Sitting at my desk, sipping my tea in silence, I went over the list of pupils that still were outside. One pupil from year 10. Two pupils from year 11. And two seniors from year 12. Two of those five, Jenny Woods from 10B and Caroline Fletcher from 12A had been caught smoking. Even if she did not know it yet this earned those two the honour of being put to the end of the line. Wilhelmsen International Institute had a strict non-smoking policy, the girls were in for exemplary and severe punishment.
Putting my cup away, I pressed the button on the intercom.
“Linde-Louise, please sent in the next one. Oh, and remember that Woods and Fletcher will be last, and come in together.”
This made Lisa Müller next, a 16 year old girl who had been sent here for tardiness and missing homework. She had been in my office before and certainly knew what to expect.
She walked in slowly, her head lowered. Her uniform looked neat. ‘Well, at least she knew how to attend a “meeting” with the headmistress’, i thought to myself.
“Well, Müller, I am not exactly pleased to see you here.” I started my sermon.
“It says here that you were late for several lessons, and that you failed to hand in your homework for the third time this week. What do you have to say for yourself?”
“I have no excuse, Miss. I just forgot to do it.”
The girl was fidgeting a little. I also noticed her clutching her left hand.
“Show me your left hand!” I ordered her. She did so. I could see the hand was reddened and a little swollen.”
“Lisa Müller, have you been punished today?” I asked sternly.
“I was late for class, after lunch break. Miss Martin gave me 5, with the ruler.”
“I see. Well, we should add that instance of tardiness to those already in the report, don’t you think?”
Müller flushed slightly. “Yes, Miss.”
“Well, then let us get it over with. Lift up your skirt and bend over the desk. I am going to give you 8 strokes with the cane. 5 for your missing homework, and 3 for your repeated tardiness.”
I watched her as she obediently grabbed her skirt and pulled it up above her waist. She then laid her chest over my desk and grabbed the far side with her hands. I picked up the junior cane and moved into position.
“Now, Müller. 8 Strokes it is. And don’t you dare to interfere in any way, or it’ll be extra strokes.”
Lisa Müller tried to take her beating with dignity. She stoically refused to make any sound after the first 4 strokes, which I placed over her knicker-clad bottom in one-centimetre intervals. Number 5 made her gasp sharply as it hit one more centimetre lower, almost there where bottom meets thigh. She knew from experience how I caned, where the next strokes would land.
Tears came with those next two strokes, which made neat double-impacts on her thighs. The last stroke had her digging her fingers in my desk, to prevent herself from jumping up and earning extra. It was made to be remembered though, as it crossed her bottom diagonally, intersecting with the rest of my handywork.
“Now, adjust your uniform and stand facing the wall. Let this be a lesson to you!”
“Yes, Miss.” She sobbed.
I made the entry into the punishment book and then asked my secretary to sent in the next one.
Michelle Smith came from the same class as Lisa Müller. It was her first visit here, but she had been punished in class on several occaissions.
“Now, Smith. I hope your uniform is correct today!” I told her as she entered the room and stood in front of my desk.
“Well, girl, is it?”
“Yes, Miss, i think so.”
“You think so? Well, lets see”
I stood up and walked around her, watching her closely. ‘Yes, today she got it right’ I thought to myself as I finished my short inspection of her uniform.
“I see it is all in order today, which at least is one thing that I find pleasing about your visit here. However, wearing correct and full uniform is a very important part of school life, so I cannot let you off too easily. And then, of course, there is the second point on your report.”
“Well, is it not true that after he reminded you that neither sneaker socks nor earrings are part of the uniform you were trying to argue with Mr. Fliegner about it?”
“Yes, i mean no, Miss. It is true.”
“I see. And did you comment on what you felt were his ‘old-fashioned values’ during that discussion?”
“Yes, I did. Look, Miss, I am really…”
“Stop it, girl. I know you probably are sorry, but you will be a lot more sorry when I am done with you.”
I picked up the junior cane and flexed it between my hands.
“Miss, please, not the cane! Please!”
“Yes, Smith, the cane. Wearing non-regulation items is a offence that alone merits punishment, but arguing with a teacher when ordered to change into correct uniform is something I take very seriously. Lift up your skirt and bend over the desk.”
“Miss, please, let me…”
“That’s two extra strokes, girl. And now bend over!”
This time, she did.
I stepped beside her and held the tip of the cane in front of her face.
“Now, Smith, you will get a total of 10 strokes. 4 for wearing non-regulation clothing, 4 for arguing with Mr. Fliegner and those two extra strokes you earned just a moment ago.”
At first, she tried to take her caning bravely. But after the second stroke she began sobbing. Then, her legs started coming up after each stroke. I told her to stop fidgeting, but after the 6th stroke, she jumped up and rubbed her bottom.
“Stop that disgusting dance right now and bend back over! Or you will get another two extra, and I will have you held down for the rest of your punishment! Is that clear?”
She fought with herself for a moment and then bent back over. She was a well-chastened girl when she was finally told to stand up. Tears were running across her cheeks as she carefully straightened her skirt. Her blonde hair was in disarray, and I could hear her sob as she put her nose to the wall like the other pupils.
Next came Peter Williams from 12A. It is a rare occaission that seniors have to report for corporal punishment, but it did happen from time to time. His infractions were those the most common for pupils his age: Misconduct and Insolence. Translated, that meant acting up in class (to impress his classmates) and backtalk.
Normally, those offences were dealt with best by the class teachers. Having to hold out your hand for the ruler in front of those you tried to impress often did a fine job. This case was different, for Peter Williams was a repeat offender. And his last prank had involved him showing of his naked behind out of a classroom window.
As a senior, he wore long trousers along his shirt and blazer. The uniform, at least, was immaculate, the school tie almost bound to perfection. In a way, he looked more like a young man, not like a schoolboy. But he was a schoolboy, and he would find out what that meant soon enough.
“Williams, I am displeased to see you here. At your age, you should know better.”
Anyone knew that Peter Williams had turned 18 a few weeks ago.
“Anyway, I have no option but to punish you severely. And, befitting your crime, i think it is appropriate to cane you not on your underpants, but on that bare part of your anatomy which you felt you had to show at the window. Don’t youn think so, too, Williams?”
“Well, at least you are old enough to know better than to argue with me. So, step out of your trousers and bend over. You should know how it i
s done from your visits back when you were a junior.”
It always looked a little strange if a boy as old as Peter Williams prepared for punishment. Physically, he really was more man than boy. However, bent over my desk in underpants and argyle socks, he did not anymore look very manly.
I slid my fingers into the waistband of his briefs and pulled them down to his thighs. Bare bottom punishments were allowed by school regulations, of course, but I seldom used them. I felt that a pair of knickers or underpants did not offer much protection from a cane or slipper, but it allowed the pupil to keep a certain modesty. In case of Williams, I decided for a bare bottom caning just because he had already lost that modesty when he showed his behind to the world.
I took the senior cane out of the cupboard and whipped it throught the air. Despite its size and thickness, it was still flexible like hell. And it stung like that, too. Peter Williams could be sure to enjoy his cane-marks for the next weeks.
“Eight of the best. You know how to take them, Williams”
And he tried to take them like a man. I had promised him eight of the best, I delivered them. Full swing, with that little flick of the wrist right before impact. He tried not to, but couldn’t keep himself from gasping loud. After the eight stroke, he was clearly in grave discomfort, you could hear he was only barely holding back tears.
As he wanted to get up i stopped him, by putting my cane to his back.
“No, Williams. I want you to serve as an example for the others. It seems to me that you wanted others to take a look at your posterior, so we will let them, don’t you agree?”
No answer was neccessary.
“Wills, Lafleur, Goodwyn, Dubois, Müller, Smith! Face my desk!”
They did so.
“Now, this is what happens to those who think their bottom is made for the public. Learn from what you see!”
The 6 pupils took a good look at what was now a very well-caned bottom. 8 swollen stripes covered it. And it felt even more painful than it looked.
“Well then, noses back to the wall. Williams, adjust your uniform and join them!”
I watched him getting his trousers on again. Surely he would try to tell his friends how bravely he took his beating. But he would have to admit then that he had to show his arse in a very undignified manner to 6 pupils from the lower years…
It was time to attend to the last two offenders today. The two girls who were caught smoking. I placed the senior cane on my desk, right beside the junior cane.
“Linde-Louise”, i called my secretary. “Sent them in!”
The two girls entered my office. Jenny Woods was 15, Caroline Fletcher was 17. She was from the same class that Peter Williams came from.
The two girls stood before me in their school uniforms. Jennys looked neat. So did Carolines, for one grave exception. The normal school skirt for senior girls was longer, reaching down well below the knees. They were allowed to opt for the shorter skirts the juniors wore, which reached the ground when they kneeled. The one Caroline wore looked shorter, which was easily to bee seen as she stood beside Jenny Woods, whose skirt was regulation length.
“Fletcher, Woods. You both know why you are here. Let me tell you I am disgusted! Smoking is one of the worst habits there is, and neither the school rules nor I myself have any tolerance for it. And you two won’t either, when I am done with you.”
They both flushed a little. Jenny Woods eyes went wide as she saw the two canes resting on my desk.
“Yes, Woods,” I said, noticing what she looked at, “you will both be caned.”
Jenny Woods had once been slippered by me when she was in year 6. Now, however, she realized she was in for a more severe punishment. But there was that other matter to attend first.
“I shall inspect your uniforms first. Stand there, hands on your heads.”
Both uniforms looked well. Jenny Woods had one of her argyles pulled up a little lower than the other. I told her so and she bend to correct it. Fletcher had the uppermost button of her blouse loosened. She also quickly corrected that. Then I came to the point of my interest.
“Now, kneel down!”
As they complied, I could easily see that Caroline Fletchers Skirt was non-regulation. Colour and general style matched, but it ended a few centimetres above the floor. Jenny Woods skirt touched the ground as it should be.
“Fletcher, is that a regulation skirt?”
“It is, Miss!”
It couldn’t be. Was she lying in my face, despite the fact that clearly her skirt was too short. Or had she… Even if Fletcher might not believe, her headmistress was a schoolgirl once, and she knew the tricks.
“You have been tucking your skirt up above your waist, have you?”
“Well, yes, Miss!”
“You know that is forbidden. Stand up and bend over! Woods, you may stand up as well!”
As Fletcher bend over my desk, I lifted her skirt up. At least, the girl had been smart enough to wear a pair of regulation knickers. I took my slipper and walked around the girl.
“Four on your knickers, Fletcher. And that is just for your skirt!”
I took aim, laying the plimsoll on the girls knicker-clad bottom. And then brought it down for four forceful whacks, two across each cheek. Each stroke was followed by a very girlish sigh, almost silent after the first, well audible after the last stroke.
“Stand up and face my desk!”
As she did so, she straightened her skirt and brought it down to regulation lenght. I had both girls stand in front of my desk while I delivered them a good talking to about the evils of smoking. Woods looked frightened, while Fletcher still tried to look innocent. It was a technique she had probably perfected over the years. With her pouty lips, blue eyes and long blonde hair she looked angelic, and it had probably helped her out of some situations in which she may have deserved punishment. I knew form a talk with her mother that her father often was persuaded not to punish his daughter just by those innocent looks she threw at him. Well, it would not work with me.
“Fletcher, your punishment will be 8 strokes with the senior cane. Lift up your skirt and get over my desk again.”
Slowly, the girl moved, then stopped.
“No, Fletcher. You won’t get out of this. Now bend over or it will be two extra strokes”
She obeyed, this time.
“Woods, for you it will be eight strokes, too. Six with the junior cane, and two with the senior. Lift your skirt and assume the position, there, at the side of your fellow smoker!”
The two girls were now bent over my desk, side by side. I gave Jenny Woods her six strokes with the junior cane first. She was crying after the third. Then Fletcher got her thrashing. Her attitude was beaten out of her apparently after the first stroke. After that, she just held on to the desk and let her tears flow. I was sure after she had taken the fourth stroke that she would not smoke again. After the full eight strokes, she was crying hard.
“I am sorry, Miss.” she said, sobbing between the words.
“Well, let that be a lesson to you!” I replied. “Now, Woods, lets find out how the senior cane becomes you!”
“Miss, please, not the senior cane. Pleeease!”
“That’s it, Woods. Two extra, with the senior cane!”
She took those last four strokes, desperately trying not to get up. When it was over, she, too, was crying hard.
“Both of you, stand facing my desk.”
“Now, this was most unpleasant. I don’t want you to see in here ever again. You now do know that smoking is not good for you, be it your lungs or bottoms. Each of you will prepare a shor
t essay on the dangers of smoking, describing your punishment. You will read it to the assembly on monday before classes. Understood?”
Adressing all pupils I continued. “I hope this has been a lesson for all of you. Now, please form a queue in front of my desk as you will each get your punishment information card that you will bring back next week, with your parents signatures.
I filled out each card and gave it to the respective pupil. Finally, the days work was almost done. I called in Linde-Louise, for there were still some things to attend to. A headmistresses work, it sometimes seems, is never done.