by Lucinda Shan
Several years ago, I was taken from an orphanage by Madame Natalina, made her ward and put to her service. She was, in many ways, a kindly woman, but was an even greater stickler for discipline than the women at the orphanage. She added the tawse and the cane to the birch as her instruments of correction, and my bottom was frequently subjected to the application of all three.
I will here give you a typical example of the kind of day on which I was severely chastised and its aftermath.
Sunday was my Mistress's favoured day for administering corporal punishment. She would announce on Saturday evening that I was to be punished on the following day. This meant that I would spend the night in abject terror, feeling my poor bottom and imagining what would soon be happening to it. I often touched myself to give myself some comfort, although this was a 'two-edged sword' as I would have to confess it to my Mistress, and receive further severe punishment as a result.
I would arise early and put on my working uniform - a blue checkered dress, black stockings, and tight white knickers - and do my household tasks, which included lighting the fire, cleaning the toilet and bathroom, dusting, and finally, after changing into my maid's uniform, making my Mistress her early morning cup of tea.
I would then repair to the kitchen to prepare breakfast. My Mistress would then appear, birch rod in hand (which I had made the previous day) and make me bend over the kitchen sink, filled with icy cold water in which I immersed my hands. She would then raise my dress, pull down my knickers and apply the rod in swingeing fashion to my bare buttocks.
The extreme contrast between the cold in my hands and the spreading warmth in my loins was a salutary experience. She would usually give me about forty strokes in several separate applications. In the meantime, I had to keep my skirt up and my knickers down so that she could see the effect of her ministrations, and so that I would be immediately available for more. It was often almost more than I could cope with, as I had to have breakfast on the table at a specified time.
Then - and this was almost the worst part - clothed in my uniform, she would take me to church where, with my burning bottom sitting on a hard pew, I would have to sing pretty little hymns and listen to long, boring sermons, all the while being very aware of the pain that was to come.
To continue my doleful story, the preparation for the inevitable was in itself a dreadful experience.
First, I had to get the place of my punishment ready. I would place three cushions - one on top of a stool placed at the end of the bed; one on the bed rail to receive my tummy and one on the bed itself to bury my face in as my Mistress could not bear to hear me howl or shed tears, both of which were always forthcoming in plenty.
Then I had to go to the cupboard and extract two rattan canes that resided there always ready for such a moment as this. One was thin and swishy, guaranteed to cut and sting like mad, the other a more serious looking implement which would transmit the most vivid welts and bruises to my soft flesh. I handled them gingerly like poisonous snakes, for their bite was venomous, and placed them on the bed. Then I took off my regulation uniform knickers and put on what my Mistress called my 'whipping drawers' - very brief - made of fine silk with just a hint of lace round the edges.
Madame liked to begin my caning with my knickers on, pulled very tight so that my bottom might very well have been bare. I am sure the knickers provided a delightful frame for her delight, for she loved the sight of my trembling and twitching buttocks as she applied the cane to them. Then, I made sure that my stockings were straight, that my skirt was well turned up and tucked up and that my appearance was tidy.
That done, I placed myself, kneeling on the cushion, over the end of the bed, making sure that my bottom was well stuck up. In this undignified position I awaited my Mistress, in the meantime contemplating my wickedness and the canes that would expiate it. She often left me in this position for some considerable time, so it was with relief that I heard her footsteps - soon it would all be over.
She would approach me, examine me closely, running her hands softly across my bottom and allowing her fingers to gently feel between my legs to see if I had been touching myself (as a way of easing the pain of the caning by bringing myself to the brink of climax).
Often I would have done so, and a little stain of wetness would show on my knickers. This would enrage her and she would pronounce that my sentence would be increased as a result (but it was worth it!). She never told me how many strokes I was to receive, but I usually had to count each one. I knew the minimum would be eighteen, often twenty-four and sometimes thirty-six, half with one cane and half with the other.
Half way through, she would lower my knickers to just below my cheeks and then continue to cane me on my bare. She caned hard, slowly, methodically and she was an expert. She never strayed outside my bottom area, which meant that many strokes landed in the same place ... and that was excruciating. Although I cried out and the tears fell copiously, I never dared to move, for she told me that I would be secured if I did. However, I could not help but have my loins working in and out and gyrating around with the onslaught of the cane. I would raise my head, which would in turn arch my back and thrust my poor bottom further up and out to meet the vicious cane.
When she was through, she would sit in a chair, and with the cane bending between her hands, would contemplate her artistry. I would be moaning and groaning and desperately wanting to rub myself and comfort myself with my fingers, but this was not allowed.
Madame would then undress, and in only her delicious silk underwear, would lie on the bed and command me to pleasure her. I knew exactly what she wanted; she had taught me well, using the rod to reinforce her lessons. If I was clumsy or displeased her, I would have to bring her the cane and she would again apply it to my already blazing bottom. When she was approaching orgasm she would at last give me permission to relieve my aching genitals.
Then with much shuddering and great cries of pleasure she would explode and spend herself in the most lascivious way. With the sight of her in such ecstasy and with the fire in my loins, I too would climax with lesser sound (so as not to disturb her), throwing my aching body around as the totality of my experience exploded within me.
My Mistress would then often sleep whilst I tidied up the room and had a good look at the damage inflicted on my buttocks. I then went and had a shower, after which I dressed again in my maid's uniform and waited to provide my Mistress with any refreshments that she might require.
I can tell you that it would be several days before my bottom returned to normal, and the marks would remain sometimes for several weeks. My Mistress had a rule (not that she always kept to it) that she would only chastise me thus when all the marks had gone, but she kept a list of my offences in a little black book in which every entry boded ill for the next time I was summoned to the cane.
When I was sixteen my Mistress informed me that she was concerned about my formal academic education which, she felt, had been sadly lacking since I left the orphanage, although she had done the best to inculcate in me a respect for authority and a sound moral sense. So, on the advice of a former well respected Principal of a Girls' Academy who was a great believer in the application of the cane, she decided to send me there.
She told me that there I would be subjected to a more rigorous disciplinary regime than she could provide, now that she was getting older and wished to spend her latter years in a more meditative lifestyle. I was not at all happy at having to return to an institution; especially I did not like the sound of a 'rigorous disciplinary regime'. I presumed that this would mean frequent and severe corporal punishment, and this assumption proved to be totally correct.
Wendy writes:
The next three years were so traumatic for Lucy that she has had some difficulty in recounting them. She has therefore confided her tale to me, her closest friend, and asked me if I would write her experiences down. So this part and most of the next are told in the third person:
Lucy was eighteen when her guardian, Mistress Natalina, decided to send her to boarding school. She had become a bit of a handful and her mistress decided that she needed firmer discipline than she was able to administer. After seeking advice from her mentor, Father Jerome, Prior of the Order of Flagellants of St. Elizabeth of Hungary, and founder of the Academy for the Advancement of Young Ladies of the same name, and of which he had been Principal. He had since retired and Mistress Anastasia had replaced him, and he had no hesitation in recommending it to Mistress Natalina as an appropriate place for Lucy to begin her formal education.
It had a reputation for its strict regime and resulting high academic standards. She was especially pleased that Mistress Anastasia was a firm believer in the use of the rod as her primary means of correction. She thought that Lucy would respond well to severe and frequent chastisement, which the Headmistress had assured her would be administered whenever it was necessary.
Lucy was not at all happy at being sent away to school and made her objections clear to her mistress in terms so impertinent that the latter was forced to administer severe punishment in the form of a full whipping using both the birch and the cane, which left poor Lucy in a state of despair and acute grief as it was a woeful farewell to her beloved mistress.
So, dressed in her new school uniform of white shirt, a short, red, plaid skirt underneath which she wore white cotton briefs which uncomfortably hugged her sore buttocks, a garter belt supporting black lisle stockings, and lastly, 'sensible' black shoes, she arrived at the grim-looking establishment which was the Academy. Her heart sank. She had heard of its fearsome reputation and with her bottom still burning from her mistress's recent ministrations, did not relish the thought of its 'rigorous disciplinary regime'.
She was greeted by the Matron, a sour looking woman who, on taking her inside her office, told her to strip immediately for inspection. Lucy reluctantly removed her clothes and stood, shivering in the cold while Matron looked her over, taking an especially long time running her hands over Lucy's bottom and then probed and prodded her between her legs.
"I see you have recently received correction - so the birch will not be a stranger to you - nor the cane by the look of it. But ..." she said, "you have good firm buttocks which no doubt will be able to take whatever punishment is meted out to you here. You also have a naughty little thing between your legs which you must never touch whilst you are here. If you are caught playing with it you will receive the harshest of punishments. Do you understand?"
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