Henry Ashley lit a pipe, then opened his favourite book. This was his personal record of some rather special activities at Marston’s Teacher Training College. Every entry on every page brought back memories. Of course, it was all long ago now. He’d been retired ten years, not that he felt at all old. Henry was still very fit and active.
Sometimes he wished he could share that book and also he was sorry that he had not got more photographic records. There were just a few snapshots of some of the young ladies he had been able to ‘deal’ with. Those who had got themselves into some kind of trouble; those who were prepared to go to almost any length to get a preview of an Examination Paper. As Deputy Head at Marston’s, Henry had access to such material.
Still, he couldn’t share that book any more than anyone can share such personal memories. The simple entries he had made at the time would mean very little to an outsider. To him they meant a very great deal. He riffled through the pages of that black exercise book until he came almost to its end… to the records he made just a week or so before he had to retire. They made you retire at 60 at Marston’s and most teachers were glad of that. Not Henry, though, for he reckoned he was going to lose more than he was going to gain. He was going to lose a whole way of life. One which he knew he would never be able to replace.
That’s why he treasured that book so highly.
One of the very last entries read:
‘Alice Manners sent a note to my study (or, more likely, slipped it under the door herself.) It was marked strictly personal so, naturally, I was intrigued. The girl is a pretty young thing, in her first year. From the records I had received of her training, she didn’t seem too academically bright. It was the opinion of most teachers, I gathered, that she wouldn’t last the course.
I opened the letter, finding the handwriting rather immature. It seemed to reflect the girl’s character.
One of the students, a close friend of mine, told me that under certain circumstances you were personally able to help with Exam Work.
I have formed the opinion I need all the help I can get if I am going to qualify as a Teacher and, since this is what I desire more than anything, I would like to come and discuss the matter with you.
Please leave a sealed note for me, marked Personal, on the Student’s Notice Board. Thank you.
Although I was happy to receive such a note I was a little disturbed that one of my ‘naughty’ students had obviously ‘spilled the beans’ about my activities in this area. It was always understood between students and myself that what went on behind closed doors was strictly — but most strictly — between ourselves. Lucky, I thought, that I am at the end of my career. If it had happened early on I would have been far more worried. Indeed, I might have had to abandon all such activities.
I would, I decided, find out who the ‘bean-spiller’ was and deal with her accordingly.
Typed an unsigned note to Alice Manners, as follows:
Received your missive. Am prepared to discuss how I can be of help. Come to Classroom B6 at 8pm Wednesday evening. Tell no one of this arrangement.
Didn’t want to take any chances. Certainly didn’t want the girl blabbing to her friend who had put her on to me.
Classroom B6, which I had used before, is very convenient for it is well apart from the others and is well sound-proofed. This is on account of the fact it was used, once upon a time, for students’ private music practice.
Am looking forward to Wednesday. A new girl is always something special.
Alice arrived a little late. That annoyed me; or worried me rather. For I thought she might have got scared and cried off at the last moment.
Then my heart gave a little thump as I saw the outline of her through the glass door at the end of the corridor. I had deliberately kept the classroom door open. It made no difference since the corridor was sound-proofed as well. Then in she came, looking very nervous. Very sweet, too. She was wearing singlet and shorts.
‘Good evening Alice. Been in the gym?’
‘Good evening, sir. No… hockey practice, sir.’
‘Ohh… it seems that our team needs it. I was looking through this term’s records. Not too good eh?’
‘N-no… sir…’ Her voice was soft and low.
‘You in the team, Alice?’ I had suddenly had an idea.
‘I’m captain, sir…’ She was twiddling her thumbs, obviously wishing I’d get off the subject of hockey.
‘What can I do for you, Alice?’ I asked at last.
She went a bit pink and took a deep breath. All very difficult for her. I could well understand that. ‘I’d like some help with my next exam, sir.’
‘Extra training from me, you mean?’ I enquired innocently.
‘N-not exactly, sir. My friend told me…’
At once I raised my hand. ‘May I ask, pray, who that friend was?’
She hesitated. ‘Judy… Judy Cranston, sir.’
One of them in her second year. Could even be on her last term. Yes, I’d ‘dealt’ with her several times. She’d always passed her exams well. I made a note to have her in that same classroom shortly and give her a damned good hiding for being so indiscreet.
‘What did she tell you, Alice?’
She went pinker and seemed to have difficulty in speaking. ‘That… you… that it might be possible… to… well… to see my exam paper.’ She paused, looking rather desperate. ‘Some of it anyway…’
‘Oh, she told you that, did she? And did she tell you anything else?’
Now she went from pink to scarlet and her lower lip trembled. ‘Yes… sir.’
‘That… that there w-would be… would be… a… a penalty… sir…’ Alice lowered her eyes.
‘Quite right,’ I said. ‘A young woman could expect nothing else for wanting to cheat so brazenly! Don’t you agree?’
‘I… I s-suppose so, sir.’ She was beginning to look scared. ‘It… it is true… isn’t it… sir?’ I reckon she was thinking she might have been led into a trap. So I let her wait quite a while for my answer. Softening her up, as it were.
‘Yes, it’s true, Alice,’ I said at last. She looked almost relieved. ‘I have helped a few ‘special cases’ where I think the student merited it. If, for example, I have believed she would make a good teacher ultimately, even if she lacked something academically. As in your case.’
‘Thank you, sir.’ She gave a little nervous smile at the compliment. Then she looked scared again. Having got over the first hurdle (broken the ice, as it were), she had an even bigger one to face.
‘I cane all students who wish to see their exam papers in advance,’ I stated flatly.
Alice dropped her head. ‘Yes, sir. So I was led to understand…’
‘And you are prepared to be caned for this privilege? And say nothing?’
‘That’s right, sir…’ She was trembling now, but I could see she was determined.
‘Very well then, Alice. But once you’ve made up your mind, there’s no going back.’ Then I put the little idea I had had earlier into practice. Taking the hockey records from my pocket, I went across and wrote them on the blackboard. Goals for, goals against. ‘Add those up for me, Alice,’ I said. She looked a little baffled, but did so. I wrote the totals at the bottom of each column. There were 10 goals for and 30 against. ‘What’s the difference, Alice?’
‘Well… it’s obvious, sir. 20.’
‘Precisely. An exceedingly poor record. So I intend to kill two birds with one stone this evening. To exact a penalty for your exam paper… and get you to encourage your team to play far better hockey for the rest of the term. Twenty strokes seems to fit the bill…’
‘Twenty!’ She almost shrieked it out. ‘Oh no… I couldn’t stand that! Not twenty. Let’s call it off…’ She even turned to the door.
Well, it was a bit steep. Not that I intended them to be very hard strokes. Then I had another idea. ‘Not all this evening, you silly girl,’ I said hastily. ‘Ten tonight. Then the other ten next week.’ It would be nice to have her back, in any event.
‘T-ten…’ she said nervously, considering.
‘It’s what I gave Judy,’ I said.
‘Yes… she told me.’ She talks altogether too much that young woman, I thought, I’ll really give it her. Alice was summoning her resolve. ‘Alright then… but… but not too h-hard please… I… I’m only 17…’
‘Is that all,’ I smiled. ‘I’d never have guessed.’ I took the cane off the door handle where it had been hooked. ‘Right then, Alice. Judy will doubtless have told you of the procedure?’
The girl looked flustered. ‘M-must I… really? I m-mean… these shorts are s-so thin…’ Was that, I wondered, why she had kept them on… hoping I’d let her off taking them down? How foolish?
‘Yes, you really must. A caning is only truly effective when administered on the bare bottom?’
‘B-bare bottom?’ Had she, I wondered afresh, been hoping to keep her knickers on too? No chance!
‘That’s right, Alice. Bare bottom.’ I tapped the desk top. ‘Now, up on here, Miss, and let’s get on with it. The more you dilly-dally and shilly-shally, the harder I will be on you. Come along, take your medicine like all the others have done.’
She gulped, went suddenly pale, but climbed up on to the desk. ‘Oh… this is a-awful…’ she said, almost to herself.
‘You asked for it,’ I said sharply. ‘Take down those shorts.’ I have always found it pays to be brusquely commanding in such moments (rather like a drill sergeant) for it rattles them. Rattles them into obedience.
Down came the thin shorts, to expose an even thinner pair of white briefs clinging skin-tight to a most excellently-shaped young bottom. Alice Manners certainly was a bonus in my final weeks of Deputy Headship! ‘Now the knickers.’
‘Now!’ I barked. Then I was delighted to see them pushed down as well. Shorts to her knees, knickers fractionally above. That bare bottom curved splendidly taut as she knelt, repeatedly turning her head towards towards me.
‘N-not… h-hard… please… not h-hard…’ she begged.
I said nothing, but tapped her bottom. How deliciously it quivered all over as the soft nates clenched. Then I gave her a goodish cut. Nothing too savage but not too gentle either.
‘Ooooowww… ahhhhh!’ That certainly made that young bottom bounce and twist. Had it hurt more or less than she expected? Her behind was twisting in apprehension of the second cut.
‘Keep it square,’ I said. Then round it came… and I gave it a second wristy cut.
‘0www… ohhh… nooo!’ Hands clasped at the weal. Eyes turned to me pleadingly ‘Oohhh… not so hard…’
I ignored the plea. ‘Put your hands up behind your back, Alice, and keep them there. This is by no means a severe caning. I gave it to your friend Judy far harder. Largely because she’s two years older.’
There came a little sob, but the hands went up. Numbers three and four fell in quick succession, having her yelping loudly, throwing back her head, her hindquarters jerking back and forth. I like to vary the spacing of my strokes. When they don’t know quite when they are coming, it adds considerably to the tension. Now I kept her waiting. The nates were twitching; she was breathing fast. ‘It will all be worth it, Alice,’ I said. Then I gave her two more strokes in quick succession… which had her yelping louder and clasping at her juddering bottom again.
‘I… hhhaaahhh… I… don’t think I can st-stand any more…’ she gasped out.
‘Don’t be foolish, young woman,’ I said sternly. ‘We’re halfway. You don’t want to waste all you’ve received so far, do you? Put your hands down underneath you. Down between your legs.’
‘O-oh… s-sir… sir!’ Her young eyes were glistening with tears.
‘Come, come, Alice, be brave. This is nothing compared with what some others have had!’ That was true, but did she believe me? However, she was a complete novice. I have noticed, over the years, how much more fortitude and powers of endurance a young woman displays after she has had two or three canings. Alice’s buttocks curved even more tautly as she put her arms beneath her and slid them between her thighs. Mmmm… yes… very nice!
The next five strokes took longer to give than the first five had done… for Alice was all over the place on top of that desk. Almost right off it several times, as she squirmed so violently as the cane bit into her increasingly tender flesh.
Oh how she pleaded! But, as ever, I was absolutely firm with her. Once a girl has made up her mind, she has to go through with it. That has been a cardinal rule with me throughout my career at Marston’s. Spanning twenty years, it has proved a most excellent rule!
As I laid on number ten, Alice, kicking out, twisting left and right, slumped right down on to the table. Now she was sobbing her heart out. Should I make her kneel up again? Make her curve that bottom for me? There seemed no point. She would be back next week anyway. For her second dose. So I let her lie flat down there… and gave her the last two cuts really hard.
My, how those made that bottom bounce up and down! How she yelled! Not for the first time was I grateful for the sound-proofing. I gazed down at that well striped young posterior… most glad to know that I would have it exposed again to me in one week’s time.
Sobbing and sobbing, Alice lay flat down on the desk top, her arms draped over the end, drooping to the floor. Her knickers and shorts remained down. Either she had not got the strength or the will to pull them up again. Certainly she no longer seemed to care a damn that I was gazing down upon her naked bum. The incessant pain of the weals I had just raised was doubtless a far more potent factor in her little world at that moment.
‘Back next week then, Alice, eh?’ I said. ‘For a nice long look at those papers. And something else, of course.’
She made no answer; just sobbed on and on. But I knew she would be back. They always did come back. If they wanted something badly enough, they were prepared to pay for it.
I walked from the room and down the corridor, leaving her still lying there.
I thought it best to leave her there. To recover in her own time. When she was ready, she would make her way back to her own digs. Where, I was sure, a generous application of cold cream would be made to a beautiful, burning bottom!