Hardacre  Hall
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The Headmistress

by Achilles

As I stood outside the heavy wooden front door of this unfamiliar house I had a final attack of nerves and apprehension; caught halfway between retreating and advancing I paused for a moment and gathered my thoughts.

It began two weeks ago when I saw a personal ad in a magazine: "Strict Headmistress orders naughty children to her study for severe punishment." I felt that, deep down, this was one fantasy I just had to live out so I wrote to the supplied box number and awaited a response. A week later I received a phone call and a woman's voice barked down the phone at me "Report to my office next Friday, 7:00pm sharp" and then told me the address. My stomach turned as I replaced the handpiece and my buttocks trembled in response.

So, a week later I stand here at this door knowing that to raise that knocker would be a commitment and that I wouldn't leave that house without suffering. To hell with it! I knocked on the door and a voice from within shouted "ENTER!" I pushed and found that the door was already open. I entered the house and peered curiously down a long corridor and saw a door at the end that appeared to have a notice stuck to it at about chest level. I approached the door until I could read the words on the sign; "Headmistresses Study". I knocked on the door once and the same voice that had beckoned me into the house abruptly called out "Wait".

I stood outside that room for ten minutes in utter silence, trying to perceive at least a sound from within that foreboding room to no avail, when the voice finally summoned me: "ENTER!" I turned the handle, pushed the door open and walked in to the room. My first sight was a massive antique desk in front of shelves of leatherbound books and at the desk, in black flowing robes and mortarboard was a large woman; the Headmistress. Her face was stern and dark flecks of hair peeked out from beneath the mortarboard; she held her hands in front of her on the desk and then she stood up and addressed me: "You don't know how sad it makes me to have to deal with children like you. I endeavour, for my entire life, to educate children and to give them a start in life but every once in a while a child comes my way who refuses to learn; who rejects everything the teachers have to offer. I, however, have something more to offer than the teachers. The last resort. It is with regret that I find us here today under such circumstances and it is also with regret that I have to exercise this last resort. I am going to have to teach you something so that at least you won't leave this school with- out having learnt anything at all; I am going to teach you manners, respect and above all I am going to teach you to remember this day for the rest of your life. It's usually at this point that I should say 'this is going to hurt me more than it hurts you' but in this case I believe that would be a falsehood since I'm going to hurt you very much; I'm going to thrash you so hard you won't be able to sit down for a week. Before I begin the lesson do you have anything to say for yourself?"


"NO WHAT!" the Headmistress bellowed.

"No miss."

"Alright, you shall bend across the desk and grasp the far end and you shall not move until you are granted permission. You are to thank me for every single stroke you receive and when I have finished the lesson you are to request that, should you stray again, I should reiterate the lesson for you. Is that clear? Yes? Then bend over."

I approached the desk, shaking now as I realized that this woman was serious about her intent to punish me. Of course, that's why I was here but it was only until the actual moment that I really believed that it could happen. I lay my torso across the desk and held on to the far edges, my buttocks felt exposed and the material stretched tight across them offering very little protec- tion. I saw the Headmistress open a small cupboard in the corner of the room then return with a long, pale, crook handled cane in her hands. She wielded it and swung it through the air once making a loud swishing noise that sent shivers down my spine then walked behind me and I felt the cane rest gently across my back- side.

"I am going to give you 30 strokes initially," the Headmistress said "then I shall have you expose your behind and I shall complete the caning on your bare flesh. I shall not put a figure to the total number of strokes since I do not wish to find I'm ending the punishment prematurely."

The cane tapped across my backside a few times then left it for several seconds. I knew what was coming and I tensed. Nothing. I relaxed again for a second and in that second a terrible swish followed by a terrific crack filled the air and then my world fell apart. A streak of pain leapt across my rear and I held on to the desk for dear life.

"Thank you miss," I muttered between clenched teeth

Again the cane rose and fell and again I uttered my thanks. I could hear the Headmistress grunt with exertion as she beat me furiously again and again. Then the caning stopped. I waited in permission, my backside blazing with pain that coursed down 30 raised and tender weals.

"Remove your trousers," whispered the Headmistress in a barely audible yet determined voice. I paused. "I said remove them." Again, I hesitated; the pain was so bad from the caning I had just received and I knew that the bare bottom caning was the main event; what I had just experienced was simply a prelude to what was to be a true thrashing.

"REMOVE YOUR TROUSERS OR SO HELP ME I'LL BEAT THEM OFF OF YOU!" yelled the Headmistress and in anger she bought the cane crashing down across my rear again. I yelled out and jumped up, tearing my trousers and undergarments off as fast as I could. I then lay back in position, trembling with fear at what was to come. Some minutes passed and then I felt that familiar tapping again. "You needn't thank me for the strokes you are about to receive; you will need all your breath for your screams," said the Head as she raised the cane and with all her might slammed it down again across my flesh, She was right; I yelled out in agony and the second stroke fell in synchrony with my cries from the first. Again and again the rod rose and fell and my cries reduced to sobs and tears coursed down my face and into a pool that gathered then trickled off the edge of the desk. She didn't let up. The room echoed with three sounds all interlinked; the stinted grunts of exertion, the explosive shots of the cane and my anguished sobs and cries.

I don't know how long this lasted. All I remember is that it did eventually stop and I lay across that desk in silence, my voice hoarse and my eyes puffed and stinging with tears. My rear burnt and throbbed with a kind of numbness and the Headmistress sat in a chair on the other side of the room. I waited and as I did I regained more feeling in my backside. This was no good thing since the pain came ebbing back slowly but surely. I clasped my hands behind me and grasped my backside tenderly. With this the Headmistress approached me again and said sternly "You have not been granted permission to move. However, you are in no state to receive any more punishment for the time being. Instead you will report to me every day for the next week at this same time and I shall refresh your punishment with 12 strokes of the cane over your existing wounds. This will teach you respect and manners. Now, in your own time you may rise and replace your clothing then leave."

I stood slowly and with every movement my rear shrieked out another agony. I pulled my trousers up and flinched in pain; mere contact with that beaten flesh was agony. After some deliberation I managed to stretch my trousers on adequately then I thanked the Headmistress and begged her to repeat the thrashing again should I require it. She simply said "I'll see you again tomorrow". I left the study with slow, stinted movements, every step causing me pain.

I now knew what it was like to be beaten. The Headmistress and her cane had seen to that. I anticipated the following day with dread...