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Wednesday, 2 May 2018

Night Swishes

A short story from Roué 30.
I looked at the cigarette stub lying on the piece of paper on the head’s desk. I looked up at him, he was eyeing me closely. His left hand was on his chin. He pointed a finger at the stub. ‘Exhibit A you could say, Lisa.’
I bowed my head then, with a last attempt at clearing my name, I said: ‘But I don’t smoke, sir — honest.’
It would have to have been old Jenks on dorm duty the previous night. Any of the other teachers would have just taken me to their room for a spanking. But no, not old Jenks. He was a vindictive sod who, alas, never allowed such incidents as smoking in the dorm to give him the opportunity to smack a pretty girl’s bottom. He just dragged me out of my bed and, stubbing out the offending cigarette, told me to follow him to the Head’s study. He carried the stubbed-out remains with him as we made our way down the long corridor. We reached the Head’s rooms and I was left outside while old Jenks went in to inform him of the incident. A few minutes passed, then both appeared. Jenks was told to return to his nocturnal duties and the Head and I carried on down the corridor to his study. He placed the stub on a piece of paper and sat down.
‘Are you, Lisa, telling me that one of my members of staff is a liar?’ He glowered at me from behind his bifocals.
‘N-no, sir,’ I stammered. ‘He was just… he… er… got it wrong — it wasn’t me.’
‘So,’ he said, ‘the assumption is that it was someone else.’
‘Er… yes, sir,’ I replied, realising that I was getting in deeper and deeper. I guessed correctly his next question.
‘Who then, Lisa, was that person?’
‘I… er… I c-can’t say, sir.’
‘Can’t or won’t? Loyalty to a chum, is it, young lady? No, I think not. You are the guilty party. Mr Jenkins was not mistaken. You smoked this disgusting object now before us. Correct, Lisa?’
I couldn’t speak. My mouth was dry and, in any case, I had no idea what to say.
‘You either own up, young lady,’ he continued, ‘or I instigate a full enquiry into the matter. Every girl in your dorm will be asked about the incident and, should no-one own up, there will then take place a mass-caning. Do you really want that, Lisa?’
I shook my head. ‘Then, come on — was it or was it not you who smoked the cigarette?’
‘It… it was me, sir,’ I croaked. ‘I’m sorry, sir.’
‘Smoking at anytime and anywhere is a heinous enough crime,’ he began his lecture, with yours truly thinking: “Just get on with it.” He went on: ‘Smoking in the dorm at night, though, is particularly evil. Just imagine the consequences had you nodded off to sleep whilst your cigarette was still alight. I can hardly bear the thought, Lisa. No,’ he said, rising from his desk, ‘there is nothing else for it than to administer a most severe caning to you, young lady — a caning that, one can only hope, will serve as a lesson to you; will make you think twice before ever lighting one of these revolting things again.’
He tossed the butt into his waste paper basket and strode off in the direction of the cupboard in the corner of the room. He had gone to that cupboard for my ‘benefit’ on only one previous occasion — although ‘only’ is not exactly the right word. Once most definitely was enough; but the fact was that most girls of my age at the school had visited him on far more occasions than that.
I couldn’t bear to look as he opened the cupboard door and extracted the cane. I heard his footsteps as he walked back over to me. I jumped in my seat on hearing his next words. ‘Up. Stand up, girl.’ I got to my feet. He was flexing the cane between his strong hands. ‘That nightdress,’ he said, pointing at my one and only garment, ‘let us have it off and on the back of the chair, shall we?’ I took hold of the hem of the knee-length nightie and lifted it up over my head. I folded it neatly and placed it where I had been told to.
I stood there in the silent room as naked as the day I was born. My hands were doing their best to cover some of my pride as the Head leered at my young form. The order came to bend over the desk. I bent, stretched out my arms in front of me as requested and gripped the far edge of the large desk. I heard him move behind me and I gritted my teeth. I heard a swish and a millisecond later felt the cane lash across my naked buttocks. I let out a howl that had the Head barking: ‘Be quiet, girl!’
I remained as quiet and as still as possible under the circumstances and took the six awful strokes. I was ordered to stand and told to put my hands on my head. He stood there in front of me, eyeing my trembling body. My breasts were heaving, my tummy too, and I was shaking something terrible. He told me to put my nightie back on and return to the dorm. I hurried out of the study and, hands rubbing bottom, made my way back to my bed.
Why, oh why did it have to be old Jenks who caught me? Why couldn’t it have been that nice, handsome Mr Long? A spanking from Mr Long, laying across his strong, manly thighs, one’s bottom bared for his attention… Mmmm — that was worth all the stinging. Why had it been old Jenkins?

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