The Punishment Room

Some schools had a separate punishment room, and it made some people think

By Will Pearson

I was very lucky to be given a job at the nearby girls private day school as Assistant School Secretary. I had only left school myself two years previously, and it was my first full time job. I settled into the job very well.

The school was, as was typical of this time, very keen on discipline, and young ladies who strayed from the path of righteousness could expect to receive corporal punishment. One of my duties was to act as witness and assistant when the Headmaster, Mr Green, had to administer a beating to one or more of the girls.

Canings were administered in a room set aside for that purpose on the lower ground floor at the end of a long corridor. The room had no windows, and was sparsely furnished with an old school desk in the centre, a couple of tables along one wall, and a tall cupboard in the corner. It was a warm room, with a glowing light. The door was kept locked at all times. When a caning was due, it was my duty to escort the unlucky miscreant to the changing rooms, oversee her changing into her gym kit (shorts with nothing underneath) and thence to the punishment room in advance of the appointed time. There I would instruct the girl to stand by the desk in the middle of the room whilst I removed a cane from the tall cupboard and placed it on the desk. Mr Green would then arrive, order the girl to bend over the desk, stretching her shorts tightly over her buttocks, and then administer six or up to nine strokes of the cane. On rare occasions, usually in the case of repeat offenders, the girl would be ordered to remove her shorts before bending over.

Mr Green was a good looking man in his forties with a pleasant disposition, but a strong personality, and I did find myself attracted to him despite the difference in age.

I had never been caned myself, as my local school was ahead of its time in that it did not use physical correction. I did, however, find these rituals deeply fascinating, and found myself wondering what it would have been like to get the cane. In time I became fascinated by the application of corporal punishment. Indeed, my sexual fantasies had taken a somewhat disturbing turn towards being bent over the old school desk. I would sometimes think of the cane swishing down on my bare buttocks when pleasuring myself in bed. The whole thing had seemingly taken on a life of its own!

This certainly seemed to be the case one fine spring afternoon when I was alone in Mr Green’s office with him. He was reading and signing some letters I had recently typed up.

“Really, Helen,” he was saying to me. “Your punctuation leaves a lot to be desired. This one will have to be done again! I don’t know what we’re going to do with you.”

Before I even had time to think about it, the words were out of my mouth in a soft whisper. “Perhaps a visit to the Punishment Room, Sir?”

He put down the offending letter on his desk and looked up at me sharply. After a pause, he said slowly: “If you really think so, Helen, then I would have to agree with you!”

My heart was pounding and I had reddened a little by this time, realising that he must know why I was saying this, but I answered steadily enough. “Yes, I do think so Sir, I need to be taught to concentrate harder!”

“Very well, so be it,” said Mr Green, opening his desk drawer and producing the key to the Punishment Room. He held it out to me across the desk in his open palm. “You’d better go and prepare yourself Helen.”

Feeling a whole range of emotions, I put my hand out and took the key from his. It was after 4.30 and the girls had all gone home. There were not many people left in the school at this time. It had all happened so quickly I could hardly believe it! What had I let myself in for? I was now feeling a great deal of apprehension, but also an even greater buzz of excitement! This was really happening, TO ME!

I walked down the stairs to the lower ground floor and along the corridor to the end door. I inserted the key in the lock, turned it and let myself in, flicking the light switch on, then shutting the door quietly behind me. Everything was as I remembered it.

I began to think about what preparations I should make for my own punishment. I had no gym kit, and was dressed for work in my trousers and a short tailed blouse. Should I leave it all to Mr Green to decide? How did I WANT to be punished, for this was a situation I had engineered for myself?

I found myself in front of the tall cupboard, and opened the doors to reveal the array of canes. My hand went up to the far right hand cane. This was the one I had been thinking of in my fantasies. It was longer than the others, but still fearfully thin and whippy. I picked it off its hook and flexed it into a semi-circle, shivering as I felt its springiness. I turned and placed it on the old school desk to await the Headmaster.

I then walked over to the table by the wall. Decision time! I thought. And as I did, I was kicking off my shoes and lowering my trousers! ‘Oh Helen,’ I thought. ‘What are you doing?’

As I folded my trousers and put them on the table, I paused before hooking my thumbs into the waistband of my panties, lowering them below my knees and finally stepping out of them. I placed them on the table, hurrying now so I would be ready when the door opened. I had a moment of fear. Would Mr Green be appalled at what he saw? Then I thought: ‘No, he’s a man, I’m sure he won’t be!’ I stood, now naked below the waist, in front of the old desk and looked at the cane. Then I heard the door opening!

“Ah, Helen!” It was an exclamation of some surprise, but he shut the door and slid the bolt across. “I see you are all ready; good girl!” He removed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. “OK my girl,” he said gently. “Have you ever been caned before?”

“No Sir, I am a little scared, but I think I know what to expect.”

“I’m going to give you nine strokes, so please bend over the desk with your legs slightly apart.”

I did so, and felt the cane being lined up across the middle of my bare buttocks. Then, Swooosh… Crack.

At first, I felt nothing, and then the shockwave hit me. It was like a knife had cut into my flesh! I stayed in position, absorbing the pain. There was quite a long pause, during which time my whole bottom seemed to warm up.

Swishh… Crack. Stroke two landed lower down than the first. Another pause while my bottom warmed up again. I was ready for stroke three now, and pushed my buttocks out. Green seemed to notice this, and in came stroke three. Whoosh….Crack.

After stroke six, he placed the cane back on the desk in front of my eyes. “I think that will do for a first time,” he announced. “If there is a second time, we’ll go to nine.”

At that point, I was relieved, but also slightly disappointed that he didn’t seem to think I could last the distance. My bottom was on fire in a not altogether unpleasant way. Having stood up and rubbed myself, I felt a wetness between my legs.

I looked at Green and said: “I’ll take the full dose, Sir,” and with that, bent back over the desk. I took those last three, and they were real stingers, but I felt I had proved myself. I knew now that I could take it!

“Well, you’re quite a girl, Miss Wilson,” said Green with a broad smile as I gingerly walked over to the table to retrieve my clothes. “I wonder if your punctuation will improve as a result of your correction?”

He left the question hanging in the air and left the room, leaving me to get dressed, tidy up and lock up the Punishment Room, ready for the next naughty girl. I wondered who that might be, and if I myself might be tempted to prompt a further visit in that role. Somehow, I already knew that I almost certainly would!

The End


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