A St Angela’s story from Roué 11
Philip Walker, Junior Maths Master, was a new appointment that term, fresh from his Oxford college where he had spent several years since graduation studying some particularly abstruse mathematical problems. A scholar, no doubt, but more experienced masters shook their heads pessimistically; fresh-faced, with an expression behind his frequently-polished glasses of being awfully keen to learn, he did unfortunately give the impression in the classroom of being somewhat at a loss, of not having quite what it took to deal with groups of girls who would be only too eager to seize on any signs of weakness. Signs notably lacking of course in any other master at St Angela’s, most of whom seemed single-mindedly dedicated to getting their pupils’ knickers down at every opportunity.
And this was the key point, for as half-term approached PW had not taken any girl’s knickers down, nor had he even required one to bend over, knickers retained, for the cane or strap. It was a most inauspicious start, noted with foreboding by his new colleagues: ‘I have to agree that it’s unusual; most unusual in fact.’ (Mr Jones), although Mr Payne, Headmaster, willing to make allowances for a new and inexperienced man was at first inclined to ascribe it to settling in, adjusting. The girls naturally also noticed this unusual behaviour: ‘I think he’s really nice and I don’t think we should try and take advantage just because he’s nice.’ (Pamela Andrews, who since the beginning of term had had her knickers taken down by every one of the masters — except PW.)
The young man himself — well, it was all new to him, that was the problem, his first teaching job and certainly a lot of it rather unexpected. It was in just his second week at St Angela’s that he got his first inkling of what tended to be normal routine at the school, and it came as an undoubted shock. He was due to see the Head, and thinking he could hear voices coming from inside the Head’s study he had bent to have a quick look through the keyhole so as to confirm it would be alright for him to enter. He gulped! Glanced quickly up and down the corridor, then went down for a second longer look. Amazing! Bent over the Head’s desk and facing directly towards the door (and PW) were two girls’ bottoms, completely nude, skirts up round waists and knickers down at mid-thigh, staring him in the face as it were. Two splendid young female rears with each, at the juncture of full cheeks and rounded thighs, clearly revealing female parts which the new master, unfamiliar with the finer details of feminine anatomy, could only goggle.
And as he gazed, awestruck, the Head, standing close at one side, reached out a hand to... (PW really couldn’t believe his eyes)... to take hold of... that part... of the girl nearest to him... stroking... his fingers, well... At that moment there was the sound of footsteps round the corner and PW quickly straightened up and in some confusion hurried away. He was sweating and his spectacles were quite misted up, for... well really... he had had rather a sheltered upbringing and this... was just too much.
But he barely had time to absorb what he’d seen before other examples of the St Angela’s regime were only too evident. The Punishment Room (2D), he saw, was an extremely active place, masters disappearing in there with girls all the time, the door locked although strictly speaking this was not allowed. And if you stood close to the door there was no doubt of what was happening: ‘Legs straight please.’... ‘Bend over further please.’... ‘Kindly keep that bottom still Miss.’... all interspersed with anguished howls of girls receiving, yet again, St Angela’s correctional treatment. And it wasn’t only Room 2D; for he also caught glimpses of girls with knickers down in classrooms being spanked or caned. He saw Mr Gray at his desk with Rosalind Bottomley after a class, apparently discussing work but with his hand up her skirt; Mr Evans magisterially fondling bottoms as he walked along a corridor; Mr Pink... well he could go on and on. And what was presumably going on behind closed doors (those without a handy keyhole) he dared not think.
Young PW, then, quickly got a pretty good idea of the way the school was run and he could see only too clearly what was expected of him. The trouble, though, was that he was a bit shy, never having had a lot to do with girls. He knew he should be doing his bit with the cane or strap but it wasn’t easy. Well, telling a pretty 18- or 19-year-old to take her knickers down and bend over a desk or chair was a bit daunting if you weren’t used to it. So he certainly couldn’t see himself starting with one of the older girls; and as for the younger ones, the Forms he saw most of, 6A and 6B — 16-year-olds mostly — well they all seemed such nice girls that it was difficult to imagine caning them either.
Yes they were all nice girls and none more so than Pauline Dawson in 6B, a sweet young thing who always sang out ‘Good morning, sir’ and ‘Good afternoon, sir’, and had even when they happened to be going in the same direction inquired if she might carry his books, sir. A charming pretty girl whose big brown eyes were almost too much for young PW: she was, he thought, the epitome of wholesome English girlhood and really he could not imagine why she was here in the first place. But then St Angela’s wasn’t really an Approved School of course and indeed quite a few of the girls were here through no shortcomings of their own — family problems for instance. Young Pauline was probably in that category.
Yes, as he continued to be preoccupied with the problem of caning, this young Miss was more and more becoming quite his favourite. Not that one should have favourites of course but he just couldn’t help it, she was such a nice friendly pretty girl. And he became even more taken with her after that time she came to class with a grazed knee, having just fallen down en route. He made her sit on the desk while he examined the injury and this position, though unplanned, was a most happy choice as it afforded him a breathtaking view of shapely rounded thighs normally concealed by her pleated skirt. And not only thighs but tight white nylon knickers with, as she opened her legs for a moment, the fleeting glimpse of taut nylon clearly outlining the cleft, the actual indentation, of a girl’s most private place.
No, there was no doubt that he was quite taken with her and so that day when he saw her waiting outside the Head’s study, well, his heart seemed to stop. For by now he knew they only went to the Head for one reason, and this was confirmed as a not very happy-looking Pauline said: ‘Late for Assembly, worse luck! I bet I’m in for it.’
He had walked on, his mind inevitably going back to those other two girls he’d seen in the Head’s study, their bottoms bared, and the Head... He thought of young Pauline in there now... and gritted his teeth... that sweet young thing. The Head... surely he wouldn’t...? He stopped, hesitating, nervously polishing his glasses... and then walked quickly, apprehensively, back. Outside the study, looking round guiltily, then his ear to the door, though half afraid of what he might hear. Yes... his face reddened and he felt himself sweating: he seemed to have arrived at just the moment when...
A girl’s voice, recognisably Pauline’s, pleading: ‘No sir. Please sir I promise I won’t again sir.’ Then the Head: ‘It won’t do I’m afraid. Take your knickers down and get in position...’ A period of awful meaningful silence and then, sending a shiver through poor PW, the unmistakeable thwack of a cane on bare flesh. ‘Ooooohhhh! Oooohh! Oh please Sir!’ Hands clenched, PW moved away as the Head’s voice: ‘Keep still please; you have five more...’
He could have looked of course — the keyhole — but he couldn’t, wouldn’t... not Pauline. He could anyway imagine it all too clearly — Pauline bent over that desk, her bottom up and bare, revealing her most intimate parts; the Head standing primly over, wielding his cane... He walked quickly away, trying not to think about it, feeling quite sick.
Still he realised, as he stopped and reflected on it, he was going to have to get used to this sort of thing; for it was very definitely part of the routine here at St Angela’s and it was no use getting upset. He thought again of Pauline, of those big brown eyes — and also of those thighs, her knickers, which he’d seen. She was now having to show a lot more to the Head of course and shamefully he felt a distinct stirring at the front of his trousers... maybe he should have had a quick look through that keyhole after all. He thought again of those other two girls, and then of Pauline...
He abruptly dropped this line of thought, though, suddenly realising that standing there musing by the front door, with girls coming in and out, he had developed a rather obvious erection. He moved circumspectly away, holding his books in front of him.
The fact was though, he told himself later in a quiet corner of the Staff Room as his mind once more reverted to his overriding problem, the fact was that he should be taking knickers down himself like all the other staff. But how was he ever to get started, that was the question; for once he’d managed it the first time he was sure it would be reasonably simple — like riding a bicycle. He searched his mind again for the hundredth time. There was just no way he could tackle one of the older girls, at least not to start with. So therefore if ever he was to get started at all it had to be one of the younger ones; there was no other answer. Right! He felt for once he was thinking more positively, perhaps inspired by the events of half an hour ago. Yes, it must therefore be someone in either 6A or B. His mind racing now... Someone quiet, submissive, a nice girl in fact...
Of course! Pauline! If he could face those big innocent eyes which seemed able to look right into him. But yes. He had the answer, a sudden inspiration. He didn’t need to actually cane or spank her, not this first time. No, the crucial first step was to get a girl’s knickers down and now Pauline had just had that awful caning from the Head (well it sounded awful) he could simply take them down to check that she was alright; to see that no harm had been done to that shapely bottom. It would undoubtedly get him started. And at the same time he would be able to look at Pauline’s... Well, he knew he needed to know about such things.
Yes he had definitely come up with a solution, no doubt about it. He reached for his glasses... polishing... He’d get her right after school this afternoon. Be waiting outside her class (he’d have to check which one) right on the dot of 4 o’clock and take her over to his rooms. She would be the first girl he’d taken there. Just give her something to drink — a Coke — and some biscuits perhaps, and then... slip them down. Marvellous! And with two days to go to half-term, just in time. He’d be able to start with a clean sheet right after the mid-term break. He would definitely use the cane from the beginning then.
And possibly... yes, very possibly he’d also start on Pauline with the cane. Well it seemed an obvious continuation of the first step. And it didn’t mean he wasn’t very fond of her, just because he was using her to get himself broken in like this. He replaced his glasses. Really he was going to have a hard time waiting for 4 o’clock.
It wasn’t quite as easy as he had imagined, due undoubtedly to his inexperience. In the first place he would have done better to get her over a chair or his desk. As it was he’d opted to take her across his lap and he hadn’t anticipated how... well, stimulating this would be. The fact was that almost immediately he developed an erection which embarrassingly just would not subside. And then he might also have done better to get her to take her own knickers down. He chose to do it himself, and with inexperience, and in his tumescent state, it was a rather fumbling performance. But he did manage it and indeed, somewhat carried away, he took them completely off which was not strictly necessary.
Yes, red-faced and perspiring, he had actually done it; he had a girl’s knickers off. Pauline, though obviously reluctant and unhappy, had nonetheless not argued, had done as she was told. And now, pushing her skirt well up round her waist, he had his first bared bottom; he could feel at last that he was a true member of the St Angela’s staff and not just some callow interloper. The Head had certainly done his stuff on her this morning though; the full pale rounded cheeks still clearly bearing his signature — six red stripes, precise and parallel, across their full undercurve. He must have really stung her...
Blinking, his gaze shifted from the striped buttocks to... there at the top of her legs, which she was keeping tightly together: a tuft of curling hair sheltering her... her thing. He had not expected his sweet young Pauline to look quite so... grown-up in that department, and he felt a little faint. His heart was pounding rather alarmingly and what was happening in his trousers did not bear thinking about. He really must try to keep calm, though, for this was what being a master at St Angela’s was all about. Yes, keep calm. Rather tentatively he put his hand on a thigh, stroking. When he was feeling somewhat more in control of himself he would push her legs apart a bit. Yes, after all it hadn’t been a bad idea to take her knickers right off.