Mr Masterson stroked his long cane in anticipation as Tamara looked on anxiously. She knew what to expect and she knew it was going to hurt, her bottom tensed beneath her school skirt! At Le Blanc Maison finishing school for girls if you misbehaved there would be only one outcome, corporal punishment and if you were sent to the Headmaster, that would mean the cane! There would be no mitigating circumstances, the unfortunate girl would have to take off her knickers and bend over for however many strokes he thought she deserved. Tamara knew everything about her impending punishment even though she had never actually been caned at the school before.
Tamara was just coming up to her twentieth birthday and had been at Le Blanc since she was eighteen, the minimum entry level. This was no ordinary finishing school, this was the finishing school for young ladies wanting to attract very eligible men, and a very rich men! The fees were astronomical but the rewards were huge and most of the girls went on to live very wealthy lives with powerful businessmen able to give them everything they desired. The harsh discipline was one of the conditions and everyone accepted it although they were all free to leave at any time. As far as Tamara was concerned there would be no question of leaving the school and awaited her punishment without question.
‘You know why you are here, Tamara?’ the Headmaster enquired, still stroking the long length of slender rattan between his fingers.
‘Yes Sir,’ she acknowledged.
‘Then tell me,’ he asked impatiently.
Tamara gulped hard. ‘I was caught cheating in the Algebra exam, Sir,’ she blurted, and with a trembling voice added, ‘I have been sent to you for the cane, Sir.’ She shuffled nervously in her black flat-heeled court shoes hoping her school uniform was in perfect order. She had pulled up and straightened her seamed stockings, refastening the studs on her suspenders and her pleated bottle green school skirt was newly pressed, her matching jacket looking neat and smart. Tamara’s school tie dangled between her ample breasts over the crisp white blouse and she fingered the knot apprehensively, Mr Masterson would add extra strokes if her uniform were not up to his detailed scrutiny.
She had seen the striped bottoms of countless girls who had stood in the very same spot she now occupied, heard their stories of extra strokes for an untidy skirt or lopsided tie or even non regulation knickers. Detailed accounts of how the cane would resemble a white-hot branding iron on her bare bottom filled her mind. Yes, on her bare bottom, Mr Masterson never caned across either skirt or knickers.
He flexed his cane between his hands. ‘I am very disappointed in you Tamara. Of all the girls in this school you are the last I would have expected this from.’
And well he might! Tamara Wentwith was, after all, the school’s Head Girl. She knew she had to get top marks in that damned exam to assure her of a top graduation certificate, she also knew the only way she would get it would be to take in some notes, which she had on a small piece of paper tucked up the sleeve of her blouse. Unfortunately, the eagle eyed faculty teacher, Miss Graham spotted it and immediately hauled her unceremoniously out of the examination room. It was pure embarrassment for Tamara who had for so long been a highly respected senior pupil and the beginning of her downward spiral.
As Head Girl she was granted many special powers and privileges, including a room of her own instead of the usual dormitory bed for all the other pupils and she was allowed to wear black stockings instead of the usual white knee socks. She also attended the monthly meeting with the Headmaster and members of the governing board, and acted as class minder when a teacher was absent from the classroom for any length of time.
Tamara was also the proud possessor of the coveted Head Girl’s Strap! This short, two tongued leather tawse was for her use in controlling any unruly behavior amongst the girls when in their dormitories. Minor spats and misdemeanors were dealt with by the Head Girl in her room rather than bother the teachers or the Headmaster. She could award up to six strokes of the strap to any girl in the school but only across a clothed bottom.
Tamara had been tyrannical in her approach to discipline in the dormitories and regularly applied her strap to a girl bent over the little desk in her room. The Dormitory Monitor, one of the girls who showed leadership qualities, usually reported these girls to her and even Dormitory Monitors had bent over her desk for not keeping up her high standards. Of course in her capacity as Head Girl she had sent girls to the Headmaster for more severe punishment, they had stood right where she was standing now, waiting for the order to bare their bottoms for the swish of the cane.
The most memorable was that of Judy who was, and still is, one of the dormitory monitors, Tamara had been allowed to stay and witness her punishment of one stroke across each hand and six across her bare bottom. Judy had squealed and danced with each stroke and they were now sworn enemies.
It was within this background that she stood contritely before the Headmaster, knowing full well that she would be shown no mercy.
‘Have you considered the alternative to my punishment?’ he asked.
She nodded quickly. The alternative would be to leave the school and that could not be considered. ‘I accept your punishment, Sir,’ she acknowledged.
He continued. ‘In that case young lady, I have no alternative but to award you sixteen strokes of the cane. You will receive two on each hand and twelve on your bottom, do you understand?’
Tamara winced at her sentence and nodded once more.
‘You will also be stripped of your status as the school’s Head Girl,’ he held out his hand for the coveted gold badge in her blazer lapel.
Her fingers trembled as she removed the pin, which symbolized her authority and handed it to him.
‘When a replacement has been selected you will move into one of the dormitories.’
‘Yes, Sir,’ she stuttered, her voice quavering and barely audible.
Again he flexed the long cane between his hands and she eyed up the Headmaster, in his fifties with graying hair, dressed in a sober business suit beneath his long black gown.
‘You will remove your skirt and knickers and place them on my desk,’ he instructed.
Again this order was no surprise to her, many girls had recounted their horror at having to strip from the waist down before dancing and howling on the end of his fearsome cane. Her stomach was doing somersaults as she fingered the button on the back of her skirt then unzipping it and letting it drop from her waist before stepping out of it, folding it neatly and placing it on his desk as requested. Tamara stood briefly before him, her white cotton knickers pulled high up her waist with the blouse tucked into its elastic waistband, her black suspenders disappearing beneath them.
He tapped the cane into his other hand as a sign of his impatience and she deftly hooked her fingers into the elastic and drew her knickers down to her knees, stopping momentarily as the cool of the room engulfed her secret areas. She bent forward to pull the knickers over her shoes and again folded them and placed them on top of her skirt.
Mr Masterson eyed the disgraced Head Girl, her blouse was short cut and didn’t reach the wispy triangle, unable to conceal the beginnings of her female opening vanishing beneath the curve of her tummy. She had very shapely legs even in the clumpy school shoes and the black seamed stockings made them seem endless.
Tamara attempted to preserve her modesty by standing before him with her hands clasped in front of her in the classic naughty schoolgirl pose but his order to put her hand out thwarted that attempt and she stuck her arm out towards him with her palm upturned.
With an expert accuracy from countless canings Mr Masterson swished the rattan back over his shoulder and thwacked it hard against her small hand. Tamara squealed from both the searing pain and the shock of the sheer force of the stroke. The next stroke saw her tucking the reddened hand beneath her armpit for comfort and jigging on the spot as the heat from the cane seemed to spread through her whole body.
‘Other hand,’ he said curtly. She thrust it out and the slender rattan sliced across her slim fingers. Now both hands were concealed beneath her armpits, ‘and again.’
She stuck it out gingerly and he held it firmly before quickly whacking her palm.
‘Now bend over and touch your toes, my girl,’ he ordered.
Two days ago in her monthly meeting with the Governors and the Headmaster it would have been unthinkable that he would be punishing his Head Girl. Now she was to bend over in front of him, naked from the waist down and offer him her bared bottom. Bending forward she reached down to her toes, her long fingers just touching the gleaming tips of her shoes. Tamara felt her suspenders tighten straining against the tops of her stockings, the flimsy belts running up the sides of each of her bottom cheeks without hindering his target. She was always immaculately turned out, her attention to detail often remarked upon by the Governors, her seams were without exception, rod straight up the back of her legs and her shoes highly polished.
‘Head down and bottom up young lady,’ he demanded.
She obeyed and waited, and then she heard the ‘swish’ but was still surprised when it snaked across her bottom, both cheeks receiving an equal searing as the thin cane traced a line across its whole width. The breath sucked out of her with a long squeal and the heat radiated down to her core. Another followed quickly and seemed to land in exactly the same place as the first, two more swished across her and she was up on her feet, hands cupping her throbbing lower curves.
The heat from the cane across her hands did nothing to help quell the heat now lighting up her whole rear end and she suddenly realised what Judy and all those others had experienced. Tamara felt his cane on the middle of her back persuading her to retake her position. Slowly she bent forward and again reaching for her toes, her long blonde hair slumping over her head towards the study carpet.
Mr Masterson swished back his cane and instantly re-ignited her twin peaks, another and yet another seared her tender bottom and again she was up on her feet.
Her hands worked hard to prepare for the last five strokes. Five strokes! The prospect daunted her.
‘Touch your toes young lady,’ came the order and yet again she bent over and obeyed.
Two more swishes and that was it for Tamara, her rear end was on fire and she was back on her feet yet again, rubbing and hopping from one foot to the other. The Headmaster waited patiently for her to regain control of herself as she squirmed, gyrating her hips with both hands clamped to her scorching rear end.
‘Three more strokes to go, my girl,’ he informed her.
Tamara shook her head in despair. ‘Pl … please Sir,’ she sobbed. ‘I really don’t think I can take any more.’
Mr Masterson was obviously aware of her distress. ‘I could commute the last three strokes to six spanks with my hand,’ he offered.
Tamara shook back her blonde hair. ‘Yes please Sir,’ she accepted gratefully.
He placed the cane on his desk and half seated himself on its corner, his long black gown falling open to reveal one leg firmly grounded and the other in position to bend her over.
He beckoned her to him and she shuffled to his side, her eyes fixed downward, staring at the well-pressed crease in his expensive tailored trousers. His hand arrived at the back of her neck and forced her forward. ‘Over my knee Tamara,’ he commanded.
Tamara went over, her head sinking down by the side of his desk whilst her crimson striped bottom reared uppermost from his knee. Her suspenders must have moved a little because she felt him pluck each one out of the way of her fleshy cheeks. With his arm firmly around her waist he spanked her six times with his open hand, each smack slow and deliberate in its application covering each of her cheeks fully in turn. Tamara’s tenure as the school’s Head Girl was now in ruins, her reputation gone together with her status as a leading and exemplary pupil. She was just another recalcitrant girl sprawled across the Headmaster’s knee with her skirt and her knickers removed. He finished her spanking and tilted her back to her feet, the sound of his bare hand on her bare bottom still ringing in her ears when he began to speak.
‘You will relinquish all of your privileges as Head Girl as of now,’ he told her as she quickly looped the knickers over her shoes and pulled them up. You will vacate your room and move into a dormitory once I have selected your replacement. Is that understood?’
She stepped into her school skirt and hoisted it up to her waist, hurriedly reaching behind her to zip it up, her face flushed from having been bent over. ‘Thank you Sir,’ she acknowledged and left the room. Back in her room she lay on her bed, face down and cursed at the sheer stupidity of what she had done, wondering who might be her successor. This was the beginning of a whole new chapter in her life and she knew that corporal punishment was going to play a major role in it and there were very few girls out there whom she could call a friend. Strangely she felt the need to feel herself, not her seared bottom but between her legs!
The news couldn’t have been worse! Judy had been appointed the new Head Girl and within the hour Tamara was ushered out of her private room and deposited in the least favourite bed in her old dormitory. Samantha, a well-endowed eighteen-year-old with long blonde hair was elevated to Dormitory Monitor. Tamara suddenly had two girls superior to her, and in a position to make her life a difficult. Judy was an old enemy and would waste no time in getting even, whilst Tamara had warmed the seat of Samantha’s pyjamas on several occasions. She shuddered visibly.
Tamara was at a loss to understand how the wayward Judy had managed to get selected for such a highly responsible position. What Tamara hadn’t known was that Judy’s father was rich and a generous benefactor to the school and this was a kind of payback.
All the teachers at the school employed their own brand of corporal punishment to maintain discipline in their classrooms. Both Mr Giles and Mr Owen used the slipper whilst Miss Chalmers used the back of her old wooden hairbrush and Miss Jones a short thick strap similar to the Head Girls’.
It had been a week since her hiding from Mr Masterson and the marks on her bottom had vanished and finally, she was getting used to her new lowly status in the school. Her bed in the dormitory was harder than the one in her old private room and as she shared with eight other girls there was a lot of arguments. Samantha, her new monitor had made it perfectly clear that she was waiting for her to step out of line so she could get even with her.
In the classroom she was now seated at the back of the class whist Judy, the new Head Girl had taken her old seat at the head of the class just in front of the teacher. Judy was now wearing black stockings and Tamara in white knee socks. Mr Owen was giving his lesson on the dreaded algebra, the cause of her downward spiral.
A very tall man in his forties, Mr Owen was perhaps the most feared teacher after Mr Masterson, he kept absolute control of all the girls in his class together with his trusty old slipper known to every girl in the school as the ‘black prince’. Generations of girls had danced to the tune of the ‘black prince’ across their bare bottoms, a huge size ten jet black gym shoe with a smooth rubber sole from warming the rear ends of literally hundreds of girls. Mr Owen used it liberally and the only girl in the school protected from it was the Head Girl, and that was why Tamara had never experienced it personally!
She had witnessed countless girls bending over his desk with their pants down only inches away from her, many of them reported to him by Tamara herself, but Judy now occupied that position.
Mr Owen had to leave the class for a short time and as usual handed over to the Head Girl with the order that the class would remain in total silence until he got back. Judy left her desk and took up her place at the front, pacing up and down on the lookout for anyone talking. She knew she had power and she aimed to demonstrate it in front of her new audience. Her hair was now bunched up in a prim, school-marm bun and her bottle green blazer and pleated skirt immaculately pressed, the shiny Head Girl’s badge gleaming in her lapel. Her black stockings were pulled up tightly and shimmering on her slender legs her black court shoes polished like mirrors.
She gave Tamara a knowing smile and turned to the blackboard and chalked up ‘TW’ in the lower right corner. Tamara’s stomach churned over and the other girls in the class gave out a collective ‘oooh!’ of surprise and excitement of what was to come. Judy had effectively reported her for talking in class, and that would bring with it four of the best from the ‘back prince’ when Mr Owen returned. Every girl in the class turned to look at Tamara knowing that for the first time the snooty ex Head Girl, previously untouchable, was going over the desk for the slipper! With her knickers down!
‘I didn’t say anything,’ Tamara retorted in her defence, her face red with both embarrassment and panic. She knew her plea would be hopeless but she felt she had to try.
Another ‘oooh’ filled the room as Judy returned to the blackboard and added ‘TW’ again beneath the other one.
Tamara felt her stomach churn at the grim realisation that Judy had just doubled her punishment. This would mean eight of the best with that fearsome slipper!
‘Please Judy,’ Tamara implored risking a third notation on the blackboard. ‘You know I hadn’t spoken,’
Judy turned on her heels and was about to add her once again when she stopped, turning to face her. ‘You’re right,’ she acknowledged much to Tamara’s relief. ‘But you have spoken twice since then so I will leave it at that. Think yourself lucky it’s only eight!’ she beamed.
She attempted a last desperate silent plea for clemency from Judy, which was rejected with a withering arrogant smile from the new Head Girl. The sound of Mr Owen’s heavy footsteps in the corridor as he approached the class sealed her fate and Tamara knew the ‘black prince’ would be roasting her rear-end within minutes! Just thinking about the huge slipper made her bottom glow hot inside her cotton knickers as she shuffled nervously on the hard seat of her chair.
Mr Owen strode into the classroom, a huge presence in his grey business suit and quickly eyed the initials on the blackboard.
He looked to the Head Girl, ‘Thank you Judy,’ he said and she retook her seat. ‘TW, ah Tamara Wentwith, out to the front of the class young lady,’ he barked without any sign of emotion or surprise.
The only sound in the room was that of Tamara’s chair scraping back as she got up from behind her desk and every eye in that classroom followed her to the front where she stood with both hands clasped at front of her skirt. Mr Owen went to his desk and opened its drawer withdrawing a book and the ‘black prince’, gripping it by its heel and demonstrating its suppleness by bending it almost double between his hands. Tamara stared at it intently, she had seen it dozens of times before but this time she noticed it in much more detail. The black canvas upper-shoe was faded and ragged from years of use, its smooth shiny rubber sole looking cold and menacing between his hands.
‘Can you explain why you spoke twice during my absence?’ he asked harshly.
Tamara knew it would be hopeless to protest her innocence and besides there was a code to be followed, there was no way she would question the actions of the Head Girl in front of a teacher. ‘No, Sir,’ she replied.
‘Do you accept my punishment Tamara?’
‘Yes Sir,’ she squeaked in agreement.
‘Then please sign the book,’ which she did with a shaking hand. ‘Since you like to make a noise in my class, eight of the slipper should have you singing very loudly,’ he announced sarcastically. ‘Take down your knickers and bend over my desk,’ he ordered.
Tamara knew the drill even though it was her first time, her fingers slowly sliding up each side of her skirt to the waistband of her white cotton knickers pulling them down over her bottom to just above her knees. Hitching her skirt up around her waist she bent forward over his desk, the bared bottom of the former Head Girl causing a stir amongst the girls who had never expected to witness this event.
Mr Owen took up his position behind her and suddenly the dull ‘WHUPP! … WHUPP!’ echoed around the room as the ‘black prince’ opened the batting on her pale cheeks. First one and then the other bounced beneath the rubber sole and the heat suddenly seemed to spread across her whole bottom. ‘WHUPP! … WHUPP!’ and her first slippering was in full swing bringing her to the very tips of her toes, her long slender legs taut as she involuntarily rose to meet his slipper.
She felt as if she had sat on a hot plate as the ‘black prince’ continued to pump its heat across her proffered bottom. ‘WHUPP! … WHUPP!’ Mr Owen, with expert ease, flicked his wrist and delivered his flame accurately on the very pinnacles of her cheeks. Tamara had steeled herself to stay silent throughout her spanking but suddenly heard her own squeals as she sang in a key she had never had to sing before. Her feet had left the floor and kicked high into the air as the girls in the class watched her bottom turn from pink to crimson red. ‘WHUPP! … WHUPP!’ interrupted her shrill squeals as the slipper finally finished whacking its target.
‘You can get up now,’ Mr Owen said placing his trusty slipper back into his drawer.
Tamara stood up gingerly, her knickers sliding to her ankles and her skirt cascading back into position as she delicately cupped her roasted cheeks in her small hands. Quickly she pulled up her pants and scurried back to her desk, wincing as the hard seat pressed against her red-hot bottom. Eyes were still turned on her as she sat red-faced trying to concentrate on the lesson, convinced that her pants were actually on fire! Her first ever slippering had left her exhausted and she now knew that all those stories about Mr Owen and his ‘black prince’ were true! Some girls had spoken of being sort of aroused ‘down there’ after getting the slipper and apart from the immense heat on her bottom she did feel strangely ‘hot’ between her legs!
Samantha’s patience had obviously worn thin. For two weeks now she had taken a special interest in Tamara’s area of the dormitory, hoping to find something she could report to the new Head Girl. Tamara knew the drill and had taken particular care to ensure nothing was out of place. She didn’t want to give the ample breasted Samantha anything to use against her.
The last lesson of the day was physical education and all the girls returned to the dormitory still dressed in their gym kit. Samantha led the way and her boobs bobbed animatedly beneath her tight white T-shirt, no bra’s were allowed in PE, they all wore identical short navy pleated skirts and matching knickers, white ankle socks and black pumps. They entered the dormitory and all eyes focused on Tamara’s bed which was unmade. As she entered the room her eyes bulged out in disbelief, she had made her bed, it was the last thing she did before leaving for lessons, she was sure she had and then she remembered. Samantha had given her a task to do before she had left the room and consequently was the last to leave and in the rush to make class on time she had forgot.
Samantha was all smiles as she poked at the crumpled bed linen. ‘Come with me,’ she ordered. It was obvious where they were going, she followed Samantha out of the room and down the hall to her old room giving a short knock before entering. Judy sat at her desk still in full school uniform and the short, thick, Head Girl’s strap lay on the desk before her, the very one that once belonged to Tamara. Samantha recounted her ‘misdeed’ to the Head Girl who listened with a wry smile pinned on her face.
‘You know what this means?’ Judy began. She picked up the strap and fingered it as she sat in judgment. ‘I’m going to award you six strokes,’ she decreed. The maximum allowed under the rules, she was making sure there would be no way for Tamara to appeal. She stood in front of her with hands clasped down her front, knowing that any protest would only sweeten their revenge. She was going to feel the strap and nothing could prevent that.
Judy stood up and rounded her desk, Samantha stood to one side beaming as the new Head Girl teased the hapless girl by slapping the shiny leather into her other hand. ‘You remember strapping me and Samantha over this very desk, don’t you?’ she hissed.
Tamara nodded stiffly.
Judy tossed back her hair and swayed her hips in an arrogant swagger making her skirt sway around her legs. ‘Do you wish to appeal to the Headmaster?’
‘No Judy, I accept your authority to punish me.’
‘Then bend over my desk,’ she ordered her knickers suddenly damp.
Tamara obeyed and reached forward until her breasts flattened against the hard surface.
‘Hands on the chair,’ she added.
Tamara stretched her arms out in front of her and placed her hands on the still warm seat just vacated by Judy. She felt her tiny skirt being lifted and her gym knickers pulled up into the cleft between her cheeks exposing as much bare bottom as possible under the rules.
The strap snaked a path centrally across both cheeks and Tamara sucked in her breath in surprise at how fierce the little strap could be. The second stroke seemed to follow the exact same path and the heat doubled. The third stroke brought out her first squeal much to the delight of the two girls behind her.
‘Scorch her backside, Judy,’ Samantha exclaimed excitedly.
Judy reciprocated with a lash that seared her cheeks and brought her feet kicking off the floor. Tamara was shocked that her once trusty strap could inflict such a sting across her poor bottom, especially as it had been given by a girl no older than she was, with her equally small hand at its helm. Mr Owen himself couldn’t have applied that strap any harsher than Judy.
A fifth then a sixth stroke whipped her bared cheeks, wobbling like a jelly with her knickers pulled out of the way. Tamara relaxed a little after the last stroke but soon tensed up again as a seventh arrived. A long squeal preceded her protest at the extra stroke when yet another seared her already burning behind sending her feet into a mid-air dance for freedom. Samantha’s hand appeared on her back to hold her down as Judy whacked her with two further strokes before letting her up.
Tamara sprang to her feet and turned to the new Head Girl who stroked the wide leather between her slender fingers, her little gym skirt falling back into place over hands busy searching out relief on her bottom. Her eyes narrowed in on Judy still caressing her new strap lovingly, still surprised at how such small hands could wield the strap so effectively.
‘You gave me ten strokes,’ she complained. ‘You are only allowed to give me six.’
A conceited smile crossed Judy’s face. ‘How many strokes did you count, Samantha?’
‘Only six Judy,’ she beamed, one hand inside her T-shirt playing with those ample breasts, the other between her legs fingering her pussy through her knickers.
‘OK, to be fair I’ll let you give me four strokes as payback,’ Judy husked handing Tamara the strap then bending over her desk. Tamara was still reeling when Judy whisked up her skirt and quickly pulled down her knickers. ‘You can whip me for old times’ sake,’ she added wiggling her bare bottom in anticipation.
Samantha sounded as though she was having an orgasm as Tamara released the tensions of the last two weeks, slapping Judy’s bottom as hard as she could. Judy took the strap without a sound and pulled up her knickers, smoothing down her skirt before stepping forward to come face to face with her. Tamara could hardly believe she had strapped Judy on her bare, seeing her pouting entrance making her own tingle in a way she had never before experienced. Suddenly her lips met Judy’s, kissing passionately, hands exploring each other over their clothing then parting, stepping back from each other in shocked surprise. An open mouthed Samantha rubbed her pussy feverishly at the sight of the two girls embracing, a Cardinal sin as far as the school rules were concerned.
Judy stiffened and quickly regained control. ‘You will report to me each morning before breakfast and tidy my room,’ she declared. ‘And if I am not satisfied, you will stand for your breakfast wearing very hot knickers. Understand?’
Tamara was suitably contrite. ‘Yes Judy,’ she accepted.
As she was leaving the room Judy gave her a chilling promise. ‘Oh, and you can expect to feel the ‘black prince’ on your bottom again very soon.’
She left Judy’s room and immediately ‘came’ in her knickers.