by Robert Price
"Come in," a disembodied voice called imperiously after I knocked on the door of the headmistress's office.
I entered tentatively, but nothing could have prepared me for the sight that greeted me. Directly facing me was a pair of naked female buttocks draped over the back of a chair. Ms. Frobisher, the headmistress, stood beside them wielding a nasty looking tawse.
"I'm sorry, Headmistress," I stammered, as I backed out towards the door, assuming I had made a terrible mistake. "I thought you said to call in to see you at four o'clock."
"I did," Ms. Frobisher replied. "I wanted to chat about how your first day went. After all, it's a historic occasion - the first male teacher ever at St. Mary's School for Girls. Oh please, there's no need to go. As you can see I have a little matter to attend to here first, but I will be with you in a couple of minutes."
Then, turning to the girl she said, "So Adams, talking in class again?"
"I was only asking Julie what pages Ms. Blenkinsopp told us to read for homework. I couldn't hear."
"Nonsense, girl. You could easily have asked Julie after the class finished. You know you are not allowed to talk in class. It is not as if this is the first time. If my memory serves me correctly, I had to speak with you about this on no fewer than three separate occasions last term, and yet here you are again on the very first day of the new term for a further reminder. Sometimes I wonder if you enjoy being spanked."
She tapped the tawse gently on the girl's proffered bottom and then brought it down with a crack that made me jump. The girl, however, took it well, and apart from a slight wiggle of her hips remained perfectly still. Ms. Frobisher waited for the girl to breathe again before bringing that fearsome tawse down a second time, eliciting a slight gasp from the girl, but little other reaction.
I was transfixed by the scene in front of me as a second broad red band began to appear across the girl's otherwise pale backside. Ms. Frobisher proceeded to thrash the poor girl in a slow methodical manner, bringing the tawse down on her bottom with a sound that echoed round the room like a pistol shot time after time. I was torn between pity for the girl and a desire to hear her scream and beg for mercy. My stomach knotted in nervous tension as I watched Ms. Frobisher systematically set about her work. I am not sure whether I was more awed by the force with which she struck or by the relentless steady rhythm of the blows which seemed as if it would go on for ever, without any hope of respite.
The girl took her beating in stoical silence, but eventually she cracked, "Please Miss, no more," she begged. "It really hurts."
"Did I give you permission to speak? Speaking out of turn is what landed you in this predicament in the first place. It would seem that a good dose of the strap is not sufficient to get the message across, so it looks as if we need to resort to sterner measures."
With that, she put down the tawse and picked up a heavy-looking cane which she proceeded to flex and swish through the air in an ominous manner.
"Perhaps a dozen with the senior cane might make more of an impression."
"No, please..." the girl began, only to be cut short with a scathing look from the headmistress that wordlessly told her there would be worse to come if she uttered another sound. The girl's shoulders shook as she gently sobbed but she quietly resigned herself to her fate.
Ms. Frobisher tapped the cane on the girl's bottom a few times before bringing it down with a force that I thought was going to cut her in two. The noise of the impact was different, but every bit as terrifying as the tawse had been. The girl gave a scream, but somehow managed to maintain her position as a line appeared across her already scalded bottom. The nauseous feeling of fear and excitement in my stomach grew even more intense.
Ms. Frobisher clearly intended this to be a caning the girl would remember and allowed plenty of time between each stroke for the pain to register and for the dread of the following stroke to build to an apex.
I had not really looked at Ms. Frobisher before now. She had a craggy intimidating face that rarely smiled, but as I watched her put her shoulder into each stroke I noticed that for an older women she had kept herself in good shape - probably from energetically flogging hapless schoolgirls. Her buttocks stretched the material of her business suit in a most intoxicating manner on each down-stroke, whilst her tight white blouse highlighted her surprisingly slender waist. Her fulsome breasts actually 'heaved' (as in the best romantic novels), although whether this was from exertion or sadistic pleasure I wouldn't like to say. She had a fearsome beauty. With her tall erect posture she was a woman to elicit both admiration and fear in equal measure.
The twelfth stroke of the cane was a mighty one delivered with a slightly upward trajectory. It caught the underside of both cheeks and almost lifted the poor girl over the back of the chair. She struggled to regain her balance before slumping, sobbing bitterly and waiting further instruction.
"You may stand up and make yourself decent," Ms. Frobisher announced.
The girl pulled up her panties and gently eased them over her swollen and tender bottom, before brushing down her skirt. It was only when she stood up straight I recognised her as one of the girls in the senior class. Being my first day at the school, I was still putting names to faces, although in the case of Miss Adams I would now be able to put her name to more than just her face.
"I trust I will never have to speak to you again for talking in class."
"No ma'am."
"Very well, you can leave us now."
"Thank-you, ma'am."
"You look shocked, Mr. Davis," Ms. Frobisher said as soon as the girl had left. "However, there is no need to feel sorry for the girl. I have no doubt that she will be back again before the term is finished. A caning like the one Ms. Adams has just received may not be very pleasant at the time, but it will leave a most delightful glow in her bottom for hours ahead. I think we can safely assume that Ms. Adams can look forward to a very pleasurable evening. I quite envy her."
I was not too sure I understood what Ms. Frobisher was talking about, but it was obvious that in her opinion a sound thrashing was not necessarily all bad.
"St. Mary's has always subscribed to a strict disciplinary regime, as I remember all too well from my own schooldays here," she continued. "We operate a rigid zero tolerance policy here. We believe that stamping down heavily on minor infractions prevents more serious problems from developing in the future. So, as a teacher, you will be required to ensure all minor infractions are rigorously dealt with. Of course, you may not punish the girls yourself - that, needless to say, would be most inappropriate. However, I will expect you to bring all infractions to my attention for me to deal with. I generally like the teacher reporting a misdemeanour to remain present for the punishment, so that they can inform me if I am being too lenient. I assume that you would have no objection to that."
"No, Headmistress," I replied, trying not to sound too enthusiastic. Given the thrashing Ms. Adams had received, simply for talking in class, I thought the likelihood of Ms. Frobisher being too lenient was extremely unlikely.
"Of course, the same sensitivities need not apply when it comes to punishing the teachers... Oh, did I forget to mention it? All staff, myself included, are subject to the same rules as the pupils, and must also face the same consequences. However, I have noticed that some of the younger teachers are frequent re-offenders, so I suspect my arm may no longer be strong enough to make the point as forcefully as is required. I was thinking therefore that you might perhaps assist me when the situation calls for sterner measures."
Had I heard correctly? Was she inviting me to chastise the female teachers? Given the thrashing that poor Ms Adams had received, it did not seem to me that she needed much assistance. Some of the younger teachers had already caught my eye. The possibility of laying a cane or a strap across their posteriors really quickened the pulse. And then there was Ms. Frobisher herself. Should the situation arise, she obviously could not cane herself, so would I get the job? The thought of bending this imperious sadistic woman over her desk for a taste of her own medicine was enough to make my head spin with excitement.
"Of course, you will also be subject to the same rules and consequences," she added, bringing me back to earth with a bang. "So I suggest you read the school rules very carefully. I have never caned a man before - at least not on the bare. I am quite looking forward to it. It could be very interesting," she said, indicating with her eyes that she had observed the tent-pole at the front of my trousers.
Yes, life at St. Mary's promised to be very interesting.
My conversation with the headmistress was fresh in my mind as I began my second day as the first ever male teacher at St. Mary's School for Girls. Ms. Frobisher had explained even the most minor breach of the school rules was to be reported to her so that the miscreant could be firmly dealt with. Teachers were supplied with special pink forms on which they were to write a brief description of the offence. The unfortunate girl would then bring the 'pink slip' (as it was known) to Miss Bates, the headmistress's secretary, who would then organise an appointment (usually at the end of the school day). She would note the time for the appointment on the slip which the girl was required to return to the teacher.
Ms. Frobisher had also explained that teachers were expected to set an example and were therefore subject to the same rules, and punishments, as the girls. I had formed the impression that she would take special pleasure out of caning me if the opportunity arose, so I had spent most of the previous evening reading the school rules very carefully. I discovered that there was a rule for just about everything you could imagine, and that I normally broke at least two of them on a regular basis. I was obviously going to have to be very careful.
I decided to explain to each of my classes that Ms. Frobisher had ordered me to report every infraction. The girls in the younger classes were horrified to discover that I would be present if they were to be punished, especially as the punishments, even for the younger girls, were frequently applied on the bare bottom. Their behaviour consequently was as good as gold. The reaction of the senior class was somewhat different. While probably equally horrified at this prospect for themselves, they seemed to enjoy a certain frisson at the idea of one of the number being exposed in front of a male. Poor Penny Adams, who had actually experienced such a humiliation the day before, blushed silently as I fended off a barrage of questions from the others:
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