Three girls discover their young headmistress is no easy touch

By Felicity Warren

Margaret Bull dressed carefully that Friday morning in March. As the 37-year-old youngest-ever headmistress of St Angela’s School for Girls, she wanted to look her very best that day. Instead of her usual stockings Margaret had today chosen tights, and she struggled into the tightest of her three pantie girdles. She had made that choice for two reasons. Firstly she wanted to wear her new bottle-green business suit with the pencil skirt, so suspender bumps were out of the question. Secondly, the girdle held in her stomach, made the skirt look good and always made her feel good.

She put on her favourite white silk blouse with the frilled neck, buttoned it at the cuffs and then stepped into the pencil skirt, spinning it round so the zip and button fastening were at the back. The lining of the skirt meant that she had no need of an underskirt. She completed her outfit with the bottle-green jacket that matched the skirt, and black high-heeled shoes.

Margaret checked herself in the full-length mirror, smoothing down the skirt. She looked good and, even more important, she looked strict, as befitted a headmistress. And that day she needed to look strict, because after school her cane was to get an airing.

Throughout her teaching career, Miss Bull had always seen the benefit of corporal punishment for the girls in her charge. In her very first position, a much more experienced teacher had suggested that a few smacked bottoms at the start of term would keep each class in order. And she had taken that advice to heart, buying a pair of men’s size 11 slippers, and always keeping one in the briefcase she took into each class she taught.

After six girls had received smacked bottoms in the first week of her very first term, word had soon got around that the new geography mistress was not to be trifled with
Miss Bull varied the details of the punishments she administered. Sometimes the naughty girl would be taken across Margaret’s knee, sometimes she would be required to bend over the teacher’s desk, sometimes she would simply be told to bend over in front of the class and put her hands on her knees. Maybe the girls skirts would be raised, maybe not, but what always happened was that the miscreant’s bottom received several hard smacks with Margaret’s trusty slipper.

Margaret’s career progressed rapidly. Head of department at 25, housemistress at 31 and finally headmistress at just 36. And with the head’s job came the requirement to use the cane where necessary. Despite her reputation as a classroom disciplinarian, Margaret felt the cane should only be used for the most serious misbehaviour. Three strokes were the maximum, and the punishment was always given in her study, as she resisted any temptation to mimic the ‘six of the best’ in morning assembly that the boys school in the next village was widely reported to use.

That day, Miss Bull had a serious offence to deal with. The previous evening Jane Hillman, the games mistress, had been on duty and during her rounds she discovered three girls from the upper sixth with a bottle of vodka. Miss Hillman was no slouch with the slipper herself, but drinking alcohol was very serious indeed and simply had to be reported to the headmistress.

The three girls were Janet Christie, Susan Miller and Lucinda Brown. Rather than make an announcement in morning assembly asking the girls to report to her study after school, Miss Bull decided to let the matter run a little longer. An announcement in assembly would effectively tell the whole school that the girls were in trouble, so she decided to let them stew for a few more hours.

Miss Bull still had teaching responsibilities, and at her class immediately after the morning break two girls arrived three minutes late. Mary Bunting and Christine Peters had no excuse, they had just been dawdling, so they were both ordered to bend over at the front of the class, and gather their skirts tightly round them. Three whacks each with the slipper left them with warm bottoms and difficulty in sitting still for the rest of the lesson.

Teaching commitments completed for the day, Margaret was able to devote herself to her management responsibilities, and also to prepare for the canings she would be administering later that day. She checked the files for the three girls she would be dealing with. Janet Christie had received two strokes of the cane from Margaret’s predecessor two years previously, for breaking bounds. Amazingly, Susan Miller had apparently never been caned. Margaret found this surprising because she was a very naughty girl and had had her plump bottom smacked on several occasions by a different teachers. Lucinda Brown was a new girl and seemed to be very well behaved, up to now.

School finished at 4.00 pm, so 30 minutes before that Margaret sent a message to the classes that the three girls were in telling them to report to her study immediately school had finished. This command would of course remove any faint hopes that the girls might have been harbouring that they were going to get away with their misbehaviour.
4.00 pm arrived, and a couple of minutes later Margaret heard the knock at her door. At her call of “Enter” the three shame-faded girls trooped in and stood in front of the formidable Miss Bull. They had taken care to check their uniform carefully, no white slip showing below the navy-blue pleated skirt, stockings not laddered and seams perfectly straight.

“Well, girls, what do you have to say for yourselves?”

No answer, the three simply looked at the floor.

“You were discovered drinking alcohol. At 18 you are old enough according to the law of the land, but nevertheless this is banned in school.”

Still no answer.

“You leave me with no choice other than to chastise you severely; the alternative would be expulsion and I’m sure none of you want that.”

“Miller, go to the umbrella stand by the door and fetch one of the canes.”

Susan walked across the office and seemed to be looking at the three crook-handled canes, trying to decide which one would hurt the least.

“Come along, girl, the canes are all the same. Just pick one up and bring it to me.”
Susan walked back and presented the cane to Miss Bull.

“Christie, as you have been caned in the past you can go first and show the others the procedure. Go to the desk and bend over.”

Janet positioned herself across the desk and grasped the far side. Margaret reached for the hem of Janet’s pleated skirt and folded it back, followed by the lace hem of her white underskirt, leaving her taut white knickers stretched across her bottom and white suspenders straining at her tan stocking tops. Susan and Lucinda looked on in horror.
“You two girls, turn around, face to the wall, hands on head.”

They were going to hear their friend’s punishment, but not see it.

“Three strokes, Christie, which you will take without noise or movement.”

Margaret picked up her cane, flexed it, then laid it across Janet’s bottom as she took aim.
The cane swished through the air and landed with a resounding thwack on Janet’s knickered bottom. The girl uttered a strangled scream, half-rose from the desk and then thought better of it.

Swish! Thwack! Swish! Thwack! The three strokes completed Janet’s chastisement.

“Stand up, Christie, make yourself decent and put your hands on your head.”

Janet pulled down her slip and skirt, resisted the temptation to rub her bottom, and put her hands on her head as instructed.

“Thank you, Miss Bull,” she said as tears welled up.

“Christie and Miller, change places.”

Susan walked to the desk and bent over, just like her friend had done. Numerous smacked bottoms would surely not have prepared her for what was to come.

Again, Margaret arranged the girl’s skirt and slip to leave a bottom encased in white knickers and framed by Susan’s raised skirts, taut suspenders and stocking tops.

Swish! Thwack! Swish! Thwack! Swish! Thwack! Poor Susan was in tears after the first stroke and only just managed to hold her position over the desk for the second and third.

“Stand up, Miller, make yourself decent and put your hands on your head.”

Margaret repeated the instruction she had given to the previous girl and Susan arranged her skirts and, like her friend, managed to resist the temptation to rub her freshly chastised bottom.

“Thank you, Miss Bull,” said Susan.

“Now you, Brown.”

Lucinda walked to the desk with even greater apparent trepidation than her friends, bent over and Margaret raised the girl’s skirt, bringing her knickers, suspenders and stocking tops into view.

“Brown, why are you not wearing an underskirt?”

Matron was responsible for the school’s dress code and she was most adamant that a well brought-up young lady should always wear a slip under her skirt, so that is what the school rules mandated.

“Wear…A…Slip,” said the headmistress, punctuating each word with a resounding smack on Lucinda’s bare leg above her stocking top.

“Wear…A…Slip,” again, as Lucinda’s other leg was smacked.

“Now for your caning, you disobedient girl. Think yourself lucky that you aren’t going to get extra strokes for your uniform violation.”

Swish! Thwack! Swish! Thwack!

Margaret paused before the third stroke, as she had seen a movement out of the corner of her eye. Susan Miller was rubbing her bottom, thinking she couldn’t be seen.

“Miller, what are you doing?” screamed the headmistress. “Brown, stay in position, your punishment is not yet complete.”

“Hands…On…Head,” said the headmistress, and like Lucinda before her, Susan got her legs smacked. “Hands…On…Head,” as the other leg felt Margaret’s hand.

“Now, back to you, Brown,” as Margaret picked up her cane again.

Swish! Thwack! Lucinda took her caning better than her friends, and her hands went nowhere near her bottom as she arranged her skirt.

“Thank you, Miss Bull, and I will always wear an underskirt from now on,” said Lucinda.

“Right girls, I’m sorry that the cane had to be used, but you left me with little choice. You may now go.”

Three soundly chastised girls left Miss Bull’s study. It would be a long time before any of them took a drink of vodka again.

Margaret sat at her desk, cane still in her hand. She felt so good.

The End

© Felicity Warren 2020