by Frank Martinet
By all outward accounts, young Mica was the epitome of the future generation. She was a hard-working, top-ranked student with high ambitions in business. She'd just landed a coveted summer internship with Hunter, Hart, and Brinckerhoff, one of the top financial firms in Newcastle, and she was enrolled Northumbria University for the fall. It didn't hurt that she was also an attractive, fit young woman, with short dark hair, an adorable round face with small upturned nose, and a wide friendly smile.
Of course, Mica hated that anyone would think that she'd used her looks to get her anywhere. She was a serious and determined young lady, destined to be a prominent leader. She tended to dress conservatively, favoring long skirts and blouses with high collars.
Most would have been shocked to learn that underneath the modest outfits the rather broad and cushiony bum that stood atop the two stocky legs was frequently crisscrossed with vivid scarlet welts from a recent caning. Was she secretly a wayward, wild child who only seemed to be respectable? What on earth would such a sweet, kind, and utterly proper young woman do to earn such treatment?
Absolutely nothing.
Mica had never been naughty in her life. She'd always been obedient and dutiful, and never followed her peers into trouble. Though she was stunning and constantly sought out by boys and men, she was careful in her relationships, prioritizing her future career over any quick fling. She was always home and in bed by ten, where she'd study until lights out promptly at eleven.
It was odd, then, that her bottom was so frequently the target of a slim rattan rod.
It had begun a year earlier, when eighteen-year-old Mica had gone to the Head to complain of a mark Mr. Pearcy had given her paper on Adam Smith. Mica had worked extremely hard on the essay and was distraught when she didn't receive a perfect grade. Mr. Hagerty had sagely listened to her tale of woe, the elderly man appearing kindly and sympathetic to her plight. But then he'd shocked her by reprimanding her for her treatment of the instructor.
"You should show Mr. Pearcy proper respect and not be so rude," he'd chided.
"But Mr. Hagerty! He's clearly incompetent. He doesn't know capitalism from a hole in the ground!"
"That's exactly what I'm talking about, Miss Merlot. You've no cause to be so impertinent. I have half a mind to give you a taste of the cane to teach you to keep a civil tongue!"
Poor Mica had never been talked to that way in her life and was stunned. "You wouldn't dare!" she gasped. "I haven't done a thing wrong. And the cane's practically been abolished, anyway."
"Not completely. I reserve it for the most recalcitrant, and your attitude is certainly making a case for its reinstatement. In fact, it's a tempting proposition."
As the old man spoke he waved a hand toward what Mica thought of as an ancient relic on the wall, a mere decoration: a lean brown rod, pencil thin, with a curved handle. The girl was astonished. She couldn't believe that such a device was still in active use. She'd never been physically punished in her life and the thought made her blush and tremble. Suddenly chastened, she gulped and stared at the carpet submissively.
"Please, Mr. Hagerty, I'm very sorry. I didn't mean to be rude."
"Perhaps not, but that's still no excuse for insulting your superior."
"I-I'll apologize to Mr. Pearcy," said Mica humbly.
"That's good, but I still wonder if a nice swishing wouldn't do you a world of good," mused the old man, to the girl's horror.
She stared at him with dark round eyes of alarm, her mouth agape. Not even realizing what she was doing, her hands sought her vulnerable backside, instinctively protecting that sensitive target. Unbeknownst to her, the image this created was so adorable it instantly inflamed the man and sealed her fate.
"You can't!" she babbled. "I haven't done anything wrong. I'll... I'll protest to the board of governors!"
Mr. Hagerty's lean face distorted into a snarl of rage. "You little snipe! The cane is just what you deserve. I shall thrash you soundly and have you dismissed from the business club."
"What? But Mr. H, that's outrageous! You can't do that!"
"Furthermore, with the disciplinary report I shall put in your file, you'll be lucky if a college in Australia admits you. Your academic career is finished, young lady. Finished!"
Mica was too astonished for words. All she could do was burst into weeping, covering her face with her hands and sobbing. Though she was a bright girl, she didn't understand anything about what was happening. The kindly headmaster's behavior was utterly baffling. He'd turned on her so suddenly she couldn't imagine what she'd done to make him treat her so, and she just wished that somehow everything could be reset and she could start over.
"Please, Mr. Hagerty," she finally said, wiping her streaming eyes. "I don't know what I've done to upset you, but I beg you not to ruin my career. Please, sir, I beg you!"
Mica saw that the old man was stiff and unbending, and in her desperation, for reasons that she didn't know, she impulsively made him an offer that he couldn't refuse.
"You can cane me, sir. I'll... I'll take your punishment and I won't say a word to the governors. But please, don't put anything in my record. Let this just be a private matter between us."
Her desperate pleading was having an effect. The old man's watery blue eyes were shining and he was nodding slowly, his lips spreading into a grin. It was then that Mica started to realize there was something creepy about the way the Headmaster was staring at her. It made her shiver and want to disappear, but she felt helpless and was too terrified to move. She could only look at her toes and silently pray.
"It will be six strokes," he said suddenly, and she felt her knees wobble and her heart lurch. But she nodded, tears glistening in her eyes. When she looked up, Mr. Hagerty had taken the cane off the wall and had it clenched in his hands. His eyes were hungry, like a wolf's. She shivered and swallowed hard, her heart racing.
Mica obediently got in position, leaning across the Headmaster's desk. She shuddered as the back of her skirt was lifted to expose her white knickers, and her face flamed hot. She suddenly had an inkling of what this was about, but that didn't help her situation. She'd agreed to this beating. She couldn't afford to upset this man who had so much power over her fate. A negative word from him would ruin her chances of higher education. She needed him on her side, perhaps even recommending her, not reporting her as troublesome.
The caning was painful, but actually not as bad as Mica had feared. She'd been terrified he'd take down her knickers, but he'd been good about that, not that they protected her much from the stingy cuts. The strokes made her gasp and wiggle, the penetrating pain profound. Yet the sting faded surprisingly quickly, and she'd mentally prepared herself for so much worse that it didn't seem so awful. It was more shameful than anything, but Mica was comforted by the fact that the chastisement would remain a secret. As long as it protected her career, she would endure anything.
Of course, once Mica had opened the door, she couldn't get it shut again. The wily headmaster pushed himself right inside and helped himself to everything. Her second caning came about a month later, when Mr. Hagerty called her to his office after school. At first he just chatted about her schoolwork and personal life and he seemed like a very nice man. But she caught the gleam in his eye and her memories of her last visit had her sitting on pins and needles.
Sure enough, after five minutes of small talk, he suddenly veered the conversation toward the cane. "Last time you were here there was a little unfortunate business with discipline. I trust you have recovered?"
"Yes sir, but I'd rather not talk about it. Let's just forget it ever happened."
"But we can't do that, my child! How would you learn? The entire point of a thrashing is to teach you. If it wasn't memorable, perhaps another dose is in order."
Mica blanched and shook her head. She stood up in alarm, inching toward the door. "That's not necessary, sir. I remember it just fine, but-" She stopped as the old man blocked her way. He locked the old-fashioned door, pocketing the key.
"Clearly your attitude still needs work, Miss Merlot."
"Please, sir!"
"Just another six, as before. A reminder, of sorts. Would that be so vile?"
Mica thought hard, quickly weighing her situation. It seemed clear to her that no matter what happened, she was going to get a beating. She had allowed it before and the man knew that, so her position was weak. He knew how desperate she was for a positive school report and he had the power to ruin her. She really had no choice. Knowing that, and Mica being eminently practical, her only move was to accept the caning and perhaps obtain something good out of it.
"No sir," she nodded. "I'll take the caning, but it mustn't go on my record."
"Of course."
"And perhaps you can help me?"
"With what?"
"With Mr. Pearcy. He's a most stubborn man, and though I've apologized to him, he doesn't like me and I don't believe he treats me fairly. He grades my work much more severely than anyone else's, and he never gives me a perfect mark even when I deserve it."
The Headmaster scratched his chin. "I could speak with him."
"Thank you, sir. I'd appreciate that."
"Of course. Not a problem. Now, about that swishing...."
Mica took her second caning with much more ease. She knew what to expect, and though it still hurt a great deal, it was bearable. Mr. Hagerty really didn't cane her viciously. He seemed far more interested in the process as a whole, and in seeing what was under Mica's skirt, than hurting her. The flicks were stingy and burned for a few agonizing seconds, and then settled into a heated throbbing. Mica didn't even cry, and Hagerty gave her eight strokes instead of six.
It did not surprise her when, a few weeks later, the headmaster stopped her in the hall and 'suggested' she pay him a visit after school. He spoke jovially as though this was nothing but a social call, but she knew better. She arrived prepared for a caning and she got one. It was only six strokes, but this time he took down her knickers. She wanted to argue, but he was so much nicer to her when she cooperated and she hated it when he was angry with her. Besides, it didn't really hurt any more on bare skin. It was more embarrassing, but the whole thing was shameful. At any rate, she was getting more accustomed to the humiliation and as long as no one else found out, she could endure it.
Soon being caned by Headmaster Hagerty was a regular event. It gradually went from every few weeks to weekly, and sometimes even more often. Mica resented it at first, but she learned that she could manipulate the man by cooperating, getting him to help her get onto the school affairs committee, bring in a better band for the school dance, get her out of boring classes, petition her teachers on her behalf, and write her letters of recommendation. The canings weren't that bad, really, not when she considered all the benefits. Her stature in school rose, as did her test scores.
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