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Tuesday, 28 February 2017

Cane Ceremony

Story by Andrew Grantham from Janus 28
‘Well my girl,’ said Mr Sutcliffe, taking off his tasselled mortar board and laying it flat side down on the gleaming, polished surface of his huge desk. ‘You obviously expect a hiding, don’t you?’
The tall girl standing on the other side of the desk shuffled her feet uneasily on the well-worn carpet. She bit her lip before nodding and uttering a barely audible ‘Yes sir.’
Mr Sutcliffe looked closely at the girl. She was very pretty. Of course, a great many of the girls who had stood, quaking, on that same spot had been pretty. There were hundreds, if not thousands, of names in the punishment book. The distinguished-looking Headmaster prided himself that he never forgot a face — or a bottom! He knew that he could go to the punishment book, pick a name at random and picture again the girl’s rear-end.
Karen Crane’s features and rear-end were to be indelibly etched in his memory long after she had left his charge. He saw her pretty, sculpted face every day of term, but he still had to view the magnificent arse she undoubtedly possessed.
‘It’s a hiding you are going to get, young lady,’ he told her slowly, allowing his words to sink in. He sighed and continued. ‘I must say, Miss Crane, that I honestly never thought I would see you standing before me like this!’
Of course, Mr Sutcliffe was absolutely delighted that the statuesque Karen Crane had been such a naughty girl that the only possible punishment he could give her was a generous dose of the cane.
She lowered her head, a mop of thick black curls, and crossed her hands in front of her. The Headmaster looked at her hands, aware of the reaction both the girl’s proximity and his imagination was having on himself. To think that those hands had…! Phew! It was mind-blowing! If only she might…! He snapped himself out of his reverie and coughed sternly before continuing with his little lecture.
‘Your action leaves me with no alternative,’ he told her. ‘Doing what you were doing to those lads from the village gives the school a bad name. We can’t have that!’
Karen’s face reddened at the mention of what she had been caught doing. It was so unfair as well. She was the only one who was going to suffer. The lads had enjoyed it obviously. She had enjoyed herself as well, although she had only touched them with her delicate hands, giving them exquisite relief. Furthermore, her headmaster would get his enjoyment out of giving her a darned good caning!
She raised her head and wondered if she might just dare to suggest to the headmaster… But no! It took her only a couple of fleeting seconds for her to reject the idea. It was far too risky and she didn’t have the courage.
‘I trust you are sorry.’ Mr Sutcliffe’s voice broke into her little daydream.
‘Oh, I am sir,’ responded Karen eagerly, hoping that an expression of contrition would reduce the punishment old ‘Sooty’ (as Mr Sutcliffe had been called for many, many years) had in store for her.
Karen’s sorrow was over the fact that she had been caught, rather than over the fact that she had done something to bring the reputation of the school into disrepute.
Mr Sutcliffe saw right through her. He was far too experienced not to understand the workings of the teenage female mind.
‘Do you want me to bend over the desk, Mr Sutcliffe?’ asked Karen tearfully.
There were no tears of course. The girl was playing on his sympathy. But Sooty knew all the tricks and, sympathetic as he normally was, any sympathy for a girl vanished at the sight of her bottom!
‘Not just yet, Miss Crane,’ he said slowly, drumming his fingertips on the desk top. He usually called her ‘Karen’, but now that she was up for discipline, he disturbingly referred to her as ‘Miss Crane.’
‘Not just yet.’ he repeated.
Karen’s shoulders slumped. She wanted to get it over with and not have to listen to a boring, long-drawn-out lecture.
Mr Sutcliffe’s next statement came as a dreadful shock to her. ‘Your punishment will probably take place in two or three weeks’ time,’ he told her.
The dark-haired girl straightened up immediately and her jaw dropped. ‘No! That’s not on!’ she protested, her big brown eyes flashing angrily. Then she remembered she was playing at being contrite and servile and she added, ‘Sir’.
‘Why isn’t it on, young lady?’ Mr Sutcliffe wanted to know. His fingers stilled and he sat back in his seat, relishing the entertainment.
Karen knew she shouldn’t have reacted as she had. She realised she was going to receive a hiding, but it was just possible she might be able to charm old Sooty into reducing the sentence. Biting her lip and choking back a make-believe sob, she slowly shook her shoulders from side to side and looked at the grey-haired Headmaster through her lowered eyes.
Mr Sutcliffe’s pulse began to quicken. Karen Crane could certainly turn it on when she wanted to. Just supposing he were to suggest that she pretend he was one of the lads from the village! No. He couldn’t, immensely inviting though the prospect was. Even if Karen agreed, which he thought she probably would, it would be a breach of privilege and decidedly unfair on the girl. He couldn’t possibly put her in that position.
‘It’s the waiting, sir,’ she pouted. ‘It’s as bad as being caned.’
‘Actually, it isn’t,’ smiled Mr Sutcliffe grimly. ‘However, you’ll find that out yourself!’ He found he was enjoying laying it on thick. It gave him some sadistic pleasure.
‘Please sir, can I ask why I have to wait?’ Karen begged.
‘You can ask,’ chuckled the Head, ‘but I won’t tell you. All will be revealed in due course.’
With the door closed on the girl, Mr Sutcliffe permitted himself a broad smile at the prospect of all that the lovely Karen Crane would indeed reveal when the time came.
He looked at his watch. Still ten minutes before the next miscreant came knocking on the door of his study. Time to type another letter.
Turning around to the side desk where he kept his portable typewriter, he first of all looked appraisingly at the pretty actress adorning the cover of the television magazine. Then the typewriter began to clack, zip and ding.
Mr Sutcliffe was just sticking down the flap of the letter when the expected knock came at the door.
‘Come in,’ he called out and turned around to face his visitor.
Nicola James stood on the carpet before him. It was a face he knew well. Automatically, his mind matched up the bottom to the wide, blue-eyed blonde’s face whose well-brushed hair hung down past her shoulders.
Her bottom was well-fleshed and bouncy. It could certainly soak up the punishment. Nicola took the cane often, but at least she took it well. Perhaps the next time might have a better effect!
Before he admonished the blonde, Mr Sutcliffe thought again about what he intended to do. Yes. The bottoms of the Misses James and Crane would be just perfect for what he had in mind.
----//----
Deep in the heart of the Metropolitan Television Studios, Natalie Kimber’s dresser handed her an envelope. The actress’s face screwed up a little as she saw the name of her old school on the flap. ‘Another begging letter from old Sooty,’ she sighed. ‘How much is he after this time?’
Since she had zoomed very nearly to the top of her profession in a relatively short time, Natalie had received several requests for donations towards various school projects. She had always given generously. She would rather Sooty got it than the taxman, even though he had given her bottom a battering with that trusty cane of his, during her spell under his charge.
How long ago had it been? She worked it out on her fingers. Was it really so long ago? Leaning forward, she carefully surveyed her features in the mirror — the same features that adorned the colourful front page of a current, large-circulation TV magazine.
Firmly etched lines around the eyes suggested she was a little older than she seemed. High cheekbones kept her skin tight and youthful. And she knew the rest of her body was in perfect trim.
Satisfied with what she saw, she returned her attention to the letter. Her eyes narrowed in shrewd amusement as she read the contents and she asked her dresser to pass her diary.
----//----
A couple of weeks later, Natalie sat in a first class rail compartment speeding through country she had once known so well. Inside half an hour she would actually be back again in her old school for the first time since she had left there.
She opened her bag and again read through Mr Sutcliffe’s letter to her:
Dear Natalie,
I am inviting you back to St. Hilda’s for a very special occasion.
As you know, many a pupil has been treated by ‘Old Trusty’ as my cane has been affectionately known throughout the years. Sadly, it is now nearing the end of its life after warming up literally hundreds of bottoms. In fact, as I notice from the punishment book, Old Trusty has played a part in your own school life.
After performing its work on one more bottom, my once-sturdy stick will be replaced by a brand new one; which hopefully will have as long a life as Old Trusty. I thought it would be rather nice to have a little ceremony ‘laying-up’ the old cane and ‘trooping’ the new one in front of specially invited guests, yourself included.
The guests will be specially selected — from those names appearing in the punishment book.
I have set the little ceremony to take place in the School Hall on Friday, the 24th at 2pm. Please let me know if you will honour me with your presence. Luncheon will be provided prior to the ceremony.
Yours sincerely,
H.T. Sutcliffe
Headmaster
Natalie folded the letter and replaced it in the envelope. Her trim bottom squirmed on the seat as she recalled every single stroke Mr Sutcliffe had applied to her behind. The train slowed as the driver applied the brakes. Natalie gathered up her belongings, wondering just how many old girls would turn up for the event.
----//----
There was a great hubbub of noise in the packed, staff dining room. The staff, with the exception of the Head, had eaten earlier so that Mr Sutcliffe could entertain his guests prior to the commencement of the ceremony — a ceremony which only they would see.
Sooty was delighted with the response to the letters he had sent out. He looked around the room. Every single young woman present was very attractive. It was no accident of course. He had been very selective when sending out his list.
His eyes wandered from guest to guest. The hairstyles had altered since he had last seen them. In some cases a bit of weight had been put on. He remembered all their names and he visualised them minus their knickers. He also recalled their various misdemeanours.
Glenys Smith. Sneaking in after lights out. Long lean buttocks.
Jane Benson. A similar offence to the one Karen Crane was shortly going to be punished for. (’Thank God for naughty girls!’ he thought). Full, meaty globes.
Colleen Westwood. Habitually using foul language. Tight, erubescent bum cheeks.
Natalie Kimber was the centre of everyone’s attention. She had signed autographs galore since her arrival. Mr Sutcliffe looked at the successful actress. She wore a clinging silk dress whose neckline plunged provocatively to reveal a masterpiece of feminine sculpting. He wondered if the gorgeous, brown-haired girl owed any of her success to the casting couch.
‘Excuse me, sir. Can we clear away now, please?’ The voice of Nicola James broke into the lecherous thoughts beginning to take form in his mind.
He looked at her. First of all he looked mid-way between her neck and her waist. Her nipples prodded through the nylon of her white blouse. The girls were supposed to wear bras of course, but it was a rule that Mr Sutcliffe never enforced.
The blonde girl was quite calm and unruffled, considering that the time for her beating was fast approaching. The taller Karen Crane standing alongside her was visibly trembling.
‘Yes please, girls. Carry on!’ instructed Mr Sutcliffe. He had deliberately asked Nicola and Karen to wait on the guests. There were two reasons. The offenders would see that the type of punishment inflicted upon erring girls was, in the long run, beneficial to them. Each and every one of the guests had received a caning during their schooldays, yet look how they had turned out. One of them, despite her comparative youth, was indeed a famous actress. Furthermore, the girls had waited far too long for their canings to take place and their activity in the dining room for a couple of hours would help to take their minds off what was going to happen. Perhaps.
The dishes and glasses were cleared away. Mr Sutcliffe looked at his watch. He excused himself and went into the kitchen to tell the main participants in the event to make their way to the School Hall. Poor Karen dropped a dinner plate onto the floor and it broke into several pieces.
Delighted with the way things were going, Mr Sutcliffe hummed a cheery tune to himself as he went to his study to collect the two canes — Old Trusty itself and the brand new whippy wand.
His humming stopped abruptly as he surveyed the empty desk top. Both canes had gone!
Mr Sutcliffe’s mouth opened and closed like a goldfish as he looked at the barren surface. Who could have perpetrated such an outrage? The audacity of anyone to actually sneak into his study and remove his prized implements of punishment!
Then he remembered that such an occurrence had taken place once before. When was it? Suddenly he clicked his fingers, realisation dawned upon his face and he hurried outside into the corridor.
Immediately underneath a photograph of the school in Edwardian times was a radiator. Puffing and straining slightly, he reached behind it and found the two missing canes in the space between the metal and the wall.
Triumphantly clutching his precious rods, and clad in gown and mortar, he marched towards the School Hall where Nicola and Karen were waiting for him.
‘Walk on ahead of me and take your places on the stage!’ he instructed them.
The audience consisted entirely of the two dozen or so young ladies who, years earlier, had either touched their toes or bent over a chair to receive Mr Sutcliffe’s trusty cane. Punishments were normally carried out in the privacy of the study, but an exception had been made for this special occasion.
The small assembly managed, nevertheless, to make a great deal of noise with their chattering and giggling. It began to subside as the two unfortunate girls mounted the stage to play the main parts in Mr Sutcliffe’s very formal, and very painful, ceremony.
They sat facing each other at either end of the stage — a stage where some years earlier, Natalie Kimber had been a great success in a school production of St Joan.
A solitary, small-backed chair was placed towards the edge of the stage, but right in the centre. This was where the main part of the ceremony would be performed.
Mr Sutcliffe was very pleased with himself. It was nice seeing old faces again. A pity he couldn’t see their bottoms as well. But still, two lovely arses awaited his pleasure. He could hardly wait to lay the cane into Karen Crane’s posterior. It was something he had wanted to do for a long while. By the time he had warmed up on Nicola James, he would really be in the swing of things!
‘Welcome to St. Hilda’s,’ he beamed at the small assembly seated in rows at the front of the hall. He held up the old cane and made an impassioned speech, praising the effects of corporal punishment. ‘This is the last time that this particular cane will be used. It is therefore somewhat fitting that it be applied to the backside of a young lady whose bottom is no stranger to Old Trusty. Miss James will receive eight strokes.’
Here he announced her offence and then ordered the girl with the long blonde hair to take up her position.
Nicola was a little bit nervous. For one thing, she hadn’t been expecting eight strokes when ’six of the best’ was the norm. Furthermore, she didn’t like the idea of being caned in front of an audience. Still, they were all girls together. She gritted her teeth to steady her nerves.
From her vantage point, Natalie watched the proceedings. There was a trickle of excitement in her tummy and the palms of her hands were tightly clenched.
‘It takes you back a bit, doesn’t it?’ she whispered to the former pupil alongside her, who happened to be Jane Benson.
‘It certainly does,’ was the reply. ‘But I’m glad I’m not either of these two girls, thank you very much.’
By now, Nicola was bent over the chair with her hands on the seat. Her face could not be seen as it was completely hidden in the waterfall of her long, golden hair. Her skirt was to her waist and all that could be seen was a shapely pair of white-stockinged legs below a pair of white cotton panties that fairly strained with the size and weight of their contents.
Jane Benson dug Natalie in the ribs. ‘Old Sooty will have those knicks right down with one flick of his wrist,’ she whispered.
She was right. Over the years, Mr Sutcliffe had developed the knack of inserting his hand into the top of a pair of knickers, flicking his wrist and denuding the bottom.
Nicola’s panties sailed down her legs. The audience, and the Head too, were treated to the sight of the blonde’s extremely shapely bare fleshy buttocks.
Karen Crane had an excellent view of the proceedings, too. She felt sick and she cursed the boys in the village. All boys, in fact!
Almost reverently Mr Sutcliffe held up the cane. It was like an act of worship. And the high altar was the blonde’s bum!
The cane became a blur as it descended.
Whap!
It sank into the flesh. Nicola jerked but that was her only reaction.
Karen saw the red imprint on her colleague’s bottom and she tightly closed her eyes.
Natalie’s palms were sweating as she watched the assault on the blonde girl’s derriere. It wasn’t until the fifth stripe showed that there was any reaction.
Then her bum-flesh quivered. Her back arched. Her legs parted a little. A cry escaped her lips.
Sooty was pleased with both his own performance and the girl’s. Nicola was behaving very well — as indeed she always did. But he was starting to break her down however. Normally used to receiving six strokes, he reckoned the additional two would prove to be quite devastating. He would make sure they were!
Crack!
The resultant yelp would have done credit to a soprano at Covent Garden.
Mr Sutcliffe had done something he very rarely did. Normally each stroke was spaced out. Very rarely did he lay into an already established weal. But after all — it was a special occasion!
The sixth stroke into Nicola’s bouncy flesh caused her first-ever adverse reaction to any of Mr Sutcliffe’s stinging cuts. She jerked upright and her hands flew to her backside.
Mr Sutcliffe was delighted. The invited audience were highly amused. Karen Crane was horrified.
‘Over that chair, Miss James!’ rasped the Headmaster. ‘How dare you get up!’
Nicola’s face was completely invisible behind the screen of silky, golden hair but everyone knew she was crying.
Obediently, Nicola did as she was told, but she planted her feet wide apart. There were no males present, but it was rather a lewd sight.
In the audience, Colleen Westwood, a one-time user of foul language, remarked, ‘I’m glad there was no-one looking at me when I used to get the cane!’
Mr Sutcliffe said nothing. He stood behind the girl and using a foot, pushed Nicola’s shoes together to close her legs.
Natalie was thoroughly enjoying herself. It was altogether a splendid afternoon’s entertainment, well worth travelling here for. And it wasn’t even half way over yet!
Nicola flexed the muscles of her bum, anticipating the next slash of pain. It wasn’t her bum that got it, however. The cane dug into the firm flesh at the top of her thighs.
The blonde girl’s agony was acute. She screamed out at the top of her voice and stamped her feet loudly on the hollow boards of the stage.
Karen clamped her eyes shut and put her hands over her ears to blot out both the awful sight and the horrible sound.
As he took aim for his final blow to the red-striped cheeks quivering in front of him, Mr Sutcliffe thought that perhaps Nicola James might not be such a frequent visitor to his study in future.
The last stroke was aimed at a small target area on the very tender undersides of her buttocks — an area bordered by two ugly red weals. Correctly delivered, the pain would be quite horrendous as the hurt from the new thrashing impact would overflow into the throbbing hurt the red ‘tramlines’ were already giving.
Of course, the stroke was correctly delivered.
‘Oooh… aagh… aahh!’ cried out Nicola, her body jerking upright. Such was the force of her movement that her hair cascaded back over her shoulders. Her hands stuck to her bottom as though they had been magnetised.
The blonde sobbed her heart out as Mr Sutcliffe removed her hands so everybody could see the result of his handiwork. Her bottom blazed as she stood, ignominiously, in front of the assembly.
The Headmaster held up his old cane rather ruefully. It was about to snap in two after years and years of causing havoc to teenage flesh. He sighed. He had been right. Old Trusty had been good enough for only the one more dose of punishment.
Taking a last look at Nicola’s bounteous, red-striped globes, he ordered her to adjust her dress and return to her seat.
‘Oh… Ouch!’ winced Nicola as she hauled up her panties, the tight elastic digging into the red ridges as she did so. Painfully she walked to her seat and lowered herself very gently onto the hard wood. As contact was made, she winced and bit her trembling lip.
Mr Sutcliffe put down the years-old cane and picked up the shiny new one. He ‘whooshed’ it through the air several times.
Karen winced, her face deathly white under her black curly mop. She took a deep breath and rose, almost wearily, from her seat as Mr Sutcliffe crooked a beckoning finger at her. Immediately she felt nervous fear as all eyes fell upon her.
She stood, hands together and head bowed, as Mr Sutcliffe held up the new cane for all to see.
In the audience, Jane Benson murmured in a low voice, ‘God bless this cane and those whose arses are going to get stung by it!’
Mr Sutcliffe coughed and began another little discourse. ‘It is right and fitting that this brand new cane should be used first of all on a girl who has yet to receive the rod…’
‘Put a sock in it, Sooty,’ groaned Colleen Westwood. ‘Let’s see her arse wriggling! That’s what we’ve all come for!’
Mr Sutcliffe announced the tall girl’s crime and Karen blushed with shame. Nothing could possibly be more excruciatingly embarrassing than the loud announcement of her sexual misdemeanour. The effect on the audience, however, was just the opposite. Jane Benson nearly laughed out aloud. Natalie chuckled to herself. There were many comments which Mr Sutcliffe didn’t seem to hear.
‘Haven’t we all?’
‘I haven’t stopped doing it!’
‘Girls will be girls!’
Karen heard the remarks and she didn’t feel half so bad. But she still had that awful punishment to endure.
All eyes watched as Karen, feeling as if a spotlight were being shone on her, was prepared for her ordeal by cane.
Jane Benson nudged Natalie. ‘I hope it doesn’t stop her,’ she whispered. ‘I must try and have a word with her afterwards. When I’d had a whacking, I used to show off my striped arse to the village lads and they used to buy me lagers and lime all night in the pub.’
‘It’s probably Pernod and blackcurrant nowadays,’ remarked Natalie.
Up on stage, Mr Sutcliffe, revelling in his accomplished, masterful showmanship, bared Karen Crane’s bottom. His eyes soaked up the sight. And it was a truly lovely sight. She was lightly tanned all over and her colouring was in startling contrast to the snowy-whiteness of her knee-length stockings.
Karen’s thighs were long and sturdy, yet very shapely. The twin cheeks of her bottom were tight and nicely rounded. Unlike Nicola’s, they had no fat on them, but they still presented a wonderful target.
Karen Crane possessed a connoisseur’s backside. And Mr Sutcliffe was a connoisseur. His eyes fairly gleamed.
‘That girl’s got a lovely arse,’ remarked Jane Benson. All around her fully agreed.
The owner of the lovely arse was not embarrassed at showing it off — she just didn’t want to get it caned! Her whole body tensed as she waited for the first blow.
Crack!
The brand new cane bit its way into the flesh of its first-ever victim.
Karen inhaled urgently. It was bad, but it might have been worse.
She rode the second stroke quite well, choking back a cry and wriggling her behind exactly as Colleen Westwood had wanted. But she still had six of the best to come. And she knew that in this arena, Sooty would deliver only the very best.
Somewhat surprised at the way the tall girl was coping with the early part of her punishment, Mr Sutcliffe applied even more force to his third stroke.
Whap!
‘Oh… ow… oh!’ cried Karen. She raised first one foot and then the other. It seemed as if white fire was clutching at her entire bottom.
The next cut, the halfway mark in the girl’s ordeal, brought forth a resounding screech and a furious writhing of her haunches. It was as if she had sat down in a bowl of fire.
Mr Sutcliffe took aim for an unmarked area of her tight bum. Again, the cane found its mark with a whipping swish-crack!
Karen yelled out as the vicious stroke sent vibrations to every nerve and fibre of her body.
In the audience, Natalie watched impassively as stripe after stripe began to adorn the bum-cheeks of the girl on the stage. Sooty was really making her suffer. The actress could not help but wonder if he was not just a teeny bit jealous of what the pretty sixth form girl had been up to.
As the punishment neared its conclusion, Karen’s body sagged and was supported only by the back of the chair. She had tried very hard not to cry, but now the floodgates had burst and her beautiful body heaved with sobs. Several times she had been on the point of leaping up to clutch her rear, but a stern rebuke and the threat of further strokes had made her slump wearily over the chair back. Mr Sutcliffe had repeatedly pushed her legs together.
Only one stroke remained. The Headmaster was determined it would be a good one. The cane scythed through the air.
Swish! Whapp!
‘Oh… ooh… all… oo… agh!’ roared Karen. She must have leaped a foot up into the air before her feet landed on the boards of the stage. Even then she leaped around, hands holding her battered bottom and affording everyone a view of her thick pubic patch.
Mr Sutcliffe pretended not to notice, but the picture was indelibly lodged in his memory file all the same.
With Karen still hopping and sobbing, Mr Sutcliffe addressed his guests. ‘That’s the end of our little ceremony,’ he beamed at them. ‘I hope you will all agree that St. Hilda’s still upholds the old traditions. After all, the old ways are the best ways.’
He continued for some time but his audience was now rather bored. There were no more bottoms left to cane. On the stage, Nicola consoled her form-mate and carefully pulled her panties up over her ravaged arse. The special guests had been invited to attend a concert after a tour of the school and they began to drift out of the hall.
As Natalie walked through the door, a tap on her shoulder made her stop and incline her head. She felt her tummy lurch as she looked at Mr Sutcliffe. Despite his advancing years, he still posed a tall, threatening figure.
‘Would you accompany me to my study, please, Miss Kimber?’ he asked gravely.
The actress bit her lip and nodded. He had referred to her as ‘Miss Kimber’ and not as Natalie, as he had consistently called her earlier on in the day.
She meekly followed him along the oak-panelled corridor and into his study. It hadn’t changed. The place was still stark and sombre. Although spotlessly clean, the study gave the impression of never having been decorated since its first painting some hundred and twenty years previously.
Natalie was not invited to take a seat. Mr Sutcliffe kept her standing on the carpet in front of his desk. He gathered his gown about him and sat down. He placed his mortar board flat side down on the polished desk top, with the cane alongside it.
The headmaster looked at the actress who was standing on the carpet in front of him, exactly as she had done on one occasion a number of years earlier. She had been quite pretty then. Now, she was absolutely stunning.
‘I want to ask you about the missing canes, Miss Kimber,’ he announced suddenly.
Natalie shifted on her feet and wrung her hands together. ‘What missing canes, sir?’ she asked innocently.
Mr Sutcliffe leaned across the desk and recounted the story of the disappearing canes and how he had come to find them behind a radiator.
‘You are the culprit aren’t you, Miss Kimber?’ he accused sharply. Natalie took a deep breath. ‘Yes, sir,’ she admitted softly.
The wooden chair creaked as the headmaster sat back. He clasped his hands together and a slow smile spread across his face.
‘You know what the punishment is, don’t you?’
‘Yes. Mr Sutcliffe,’ she responded. ‘I’m going to get some bamboo kisses on my bottom, aren’t I?’
‘You certainly are, my dear Miss Kimber,’ said the Headmaster, trying to sound stern and at the same time rather fruitlessly attempting to conceal his mounting excitement.
Natalie’s head dropped and she swung her shoulders from side to side. ‘Will I get it on the bare?’ she asked quietly.
Mr Sutcliffe could hardly speak. ‘Oh yes,’ he managed at last. Then he stood up and slowly walked around her appraising her fine female form. Natalie submitted herself to the inspection without saying a word. Mr Sutcliffe noticed that her breathing was rather heavy and that her hands were tightly clenched. Her eyes were wide as she saw him reach across the desk for the cane. She swallowed hard.
‘You will strip off completely please, Miss Kimber!’ he ordered.
‘What!’ exclaimed Natalie. The shock on her face was very real. ‘Strip right off?’
‘That’s what I said,’ sighed Mr Sutcliffe.
‘But the rules say…’ began the protesting actress.
The imposing figure of the Headmaster loomed over her. ‘The rules, Miss Kimber,’ he told her curtly, ‘are for pupils. There is a different set of rules for former pupils.’
He did not add that he was making up such rules as he went along!
Natalie exhaled sharply, but she made no further protest. She moved her hands up her back and fumbled with her zipper as Mr Sutcliffe watched intently. The clinging dress loosened its hold on her body as the zip was lowered. Then it fell from her and she stood, clad now only in black bra, black panties, black stockings. And a black suspender belt!
A suspender belt! Sooty hadn’t expected that! Natalie forced back a grin as she watched his reaction. Her hands went behind her back again. This time to unhitch her brassiere. Off it came. The Headmaster’s eyes popped as he surveyed the jellied mounds of her breasts and her engorged, cherry-ripe nipples. What a wonderful treat. But even more was to come!
Natalie stood still for a moment before continuing, and her eyes were shining. Mr Sutcliffe’s gaze travelled from her breasts, down her dimpled tummy and came to rest on her crotch — the next part of her lovely body that had to be unveiled. The straining vee of her panties tightened into her mound, allowing some of her brown curls to escape on either side.
Still managing to look so innocent and demure, Natalie turned her back on the Headmaster. He licked his dry lips and cleared his constricted throat as he beheld the former pupil’s bottom, half of it concealed in the taut silk of her panties and half of it bulging out from the material. Then she began to lower the panties, bending over and poking out her bum as she did so.
Suddenly her magnificent mounds were bare. They were almost exactly as Mr Sutcliffe remembered them — firm and luscious. Perhaps they carried a bit more meat than they had done, but they were truly a wonderful set of bum-cheeks.
Natalie straightened up, put her hands on her hips and turned her head round to look at the Headmaster. ‘Shall I take off my belt and stockings, sir?’ she asked.
Sooty was almost speechless as the sight of the girl who was at his mercy, but he eventually managed to reply, ‘No, that will not be necessary, Miss Kimber.’
He made up his mind to break one of his own personal rules. Or rather, to make up a new rule as far as former pupils were concerned. Taking a deep breath, he walked in front of the girl. She closed her eyes, arched her back and thrust out her breasts as she awaited the Headmaster’s physical inspection.
Mr Sutcliffe clutched her breasts. They were as firm as freshly-plucked melons. Then he ran his thumbs over her already distended nipples before caressing her shoulders and waist. Her body was as smooth as satin and was scented divinely with the fragrance of a very expensive perfume. His fingers trailed across the velvety plain of her belly, but they did not probe beyond the light brown fur at the junction of her thighs.
‘Bend over please, Miss Kimber!’ he ordered her in low, throaty tones. ‘Touch your toes!’
Natalie did as she was told right away. ‘That’s a good girl,’ complimented Mr Sutcliffe. It was now the turn of her bottom to come in for his physical inspection. The satin-smooth cheeks were firm to his touch.
‘Ooh sir!’ squeaked Natalie as his fingers carelessly trailed too far down her long crease. Mr Sutcliffe duly apologised. Then smiling to himself, he pulled away one of the suspender straps leading down to her stocking top. He let it go and it smacked into the flesh of her elegant, shapely thigh.
‘We’ll begin now, Miss Kimber,’ he announced suddenly. Natalie braced herself. She saw Mr Sutcliffe’s feet shuffle as he got himself into position.
‘Oohh!’ she cried as the first stroke cut into her flesh. It had been a long time since she had experienced such stinging hurt.
The study was filled with gasps and cries as she came alive beneath Mr Sutcliffe’s instrument of correction.
‘Yeeek!’ she cried as she took the fourth swipe. Her body shuddered and her breasts swung from side to side under the impact.
Smack!
‘Yarrooh!’ Natalie’s cry was even higher pitched. That last one had been across her thigh-tops. Her veins seemed to be filled with pain instead of blood.
‘Just one more now,’ she heard the Headmaster say, his breath catching. She watched as his feet made another shuffle. Natalie clenched her red-striped bum cheeks. Her cleft narrowed into a thin line.
Whap!
‘Aye… ay… agh… ooh!’ yelled out the actress. Sooty had hit her diagonally across her behind — right across all the earlier weals.
She shot upright clutching her cheeks and began to hop around the study, first on one foot and then on the other.
Mr Sutcliffe felt very privileged. It was a performance the general public would never see from the popular actress. Her swinging breasts really were a sight to behold. He bent down and picked up her clothing. All good things had to come to an end, he supposed.
----//----
Natalie settled in her seat for the train journey back to London with her favourite CP magazine hidden away behind the covers of Cosmopolitan.
Now that the pain was gone, her bottom felt hot and heavenly. She smiled a smug smile of satisfaction to herself. It had been a good idea of hers to hide Sooty’s canes in the same place where she had hidden his precious Old Trusty some years ago. He had found it then and she knew he would do so again!
The old devil! Fancy him asking her to strip right off and then giving her a good feel into the bargain. Not that she minded that! She had a lot to thank old Sooty for. But for him she might never have discovered the delights of Corporal Punishment.

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