Smoking

[subsoo]

The girl stared miserably through the grimy window, watching a few stragglers leaving through the school gates. She turned and slowly took her seat at the old school desk. The battered textbook on the desk held no interest for her. Suddenly the door flew open, and she jumped to her feet, standing to attention as the Headmaster entered the room. A fleeting thought that he looked quite handsome in his gown and mortarboard was soon banished by his stern expression. He stood in front of her, eyes fixed on her face until, unable to meet his stare, she dropped her gaze to the floor.
"Carol Walsh" he barked "Smoking on school premises at lunchtime. Anything to say?"
"No Sir" It came out almost as a squeak.
"Speak up girl!"
"No Sir". Only slightly louder, but he seemed to grunt then turned and opened a small cupboard on the wall and took out a yellow brown senior cane, 36 inches of well used sting.
Standing once again in front of the girl he suddenly rapped the cane down on the desktop, making her jump.
"Six strokes! Lift up your skirt, take down your underwear and bend over the front of this desk."
Taking a deep breath she slowly pulled the hem of her skirt up to her waist, turned her back on the Headmaster, as he flexed the cane, and pushed her thumbs into the waistband of her underwear.
"Quickly girl, I dont have all day!"
The knickers descended to her knees and she bent forward, reaching out her hands for the far edge of the desk, resting her head on the outstretched arms.
The room went quiet as he studied the waiting target, then the tap, tap, tap of cane on bare flesh sounded like a drumbeat as he took aim.
The SWISH-THWACK announced the arrival of the first stinging stroke across the centre of her unprotected cheeks. her head shot up, and she gasped for breath, but managed to avoid the shame of standing or putting a hand across her bottom, either of which would earn extra strokes on top of what was already a severe caning.
Slowly, remorselessly, the cane continued its journey across her bottom leaving stripes that would burn for some time. The fifth stroke landed in the crease between cheeks and thighs and was followed almost at once by the final, hardest stroke to the same place.
The girl sagged on to the desk, gasping for breath, a small tear swelling from one eye. and falling slowly down her cheek. The pain in her tortured flesh continued to burn fiercely. She thought briefly of Carol Walsh, now released from detention and on her way home with a bottom untouched by the cane.
Suddenly she felt the gentle touch of cool fingers soothing her bottom, and moments later, the sounds of a zip and clothes being freed. As she felt the gentle fingers parting her thighs she reflected that perhaps after all there were compensations to being married to a Headmaster frustrated by the caning ban recently imposed by the local education authority.


This is just a story. I make no judgement on the morals or ethics of the characters.

[lex46]

As one old enough to remember the cane in school, this was a great short story with a lovely twist at the end. Well done!

[darkenergy]

Lovely and fierce. What a dear little wife the scholgirl turns out to be, for sure. Well done!