It was a crisp November afternoon, and the school’s first eleven hockey team had a home match. As always on these occasions, the whole school was ordered to attend to cheer on their team. Several teachers were obliged to attend to keep an eye on proceedings and I was one of them. Hockey was never my thing, although I do referee inter-house matches. From time to time my eyes would wander from the game and this time I noticed two girls furtively making their way towards the sports pavilion. Once there, they disappeared around the back. I walked down the touchline to the nearest prefect, Rosemary Burkenshaw.
“Rosemary, I’ve just seen two girls go round behind the pavilion, probably gone for a smoke,” I said. “Pop round and see what they’re up to will you please.”
“Yes Miss Fawcett. What shall I do with them?”
“Send them over to me.”
Rosemary made her way to the pavilion. Shortly afterwards I saw her coming in my direction with the two girls in tow.
“Having crafty fag were we?” I said when they arrived.
Rosemary put her hand over her mouth, presumably to stifle a laugh at the terminology that I was using. Not the sort of words that a housemistress at a posh girls boarding school would be expected to use. I was never one for keeping up appearances.
“Yes Miss Fawcett,” they replied.
“Be outside my study straight after the game. I’ve got a better way of warming you up than smoking a cigarette. I’ll take your cigarettes while you’re here.”
The two girls handed over a packet of cigarettes and then trudged off disconsolately. “Girls will be girls,” I said to Rosemary as we resumed spectating.
End of the match, and I made my way back to my room and then off to my study to warm two naughty bottoms.
“In you go,” I said as I opened the study door.
The two girls followed me in as I went straight to the cupboard where I kept my now quite extensive collection of canes. Quite how I came by so many over the years I’m not sure, some I acquired, some inherited from other teachers. Normally, for two sixteen year olds I would choose one of the thicker ones but this time I just felt like using one of swishy thin ones. I took one and turned to face the girls. “I see little point in wasting time over this. You were caught fair and square, and you know the penalty. Avril, wait outside.” I said, as I bent the cane nearly double, it was that supple. I always kept my canes supple, by standing them periodically in water.
Avril left, leaving Roberta hopping nervously from one foot to the other. I turned to her and said. “May I invite you to bend over my desk?”
“Yes Miss Fawcett,” replied Roberta, stepping forward.
I had no hesitation in hauling up her skirt and slip for maximum effect. When I was ready, I whipped the cane across her ample backside. Being a thin and whippy cane, it wrapped itself right round her bottom. She let out a loud gasp and put her hand back to rub her bottom.
“Hand away, you can save that for later,” I said.
I resumed with three good swipes across the middle of Roberta’s bottom, which brought cries of pain. The final two I aimed lower down to provide some discomfort when she tried to sit down.
I then dismissed a very tearful and hopefully contrite schoolgirl. Avril came in and was on the brink of tears when she approached my desk.
“Over you go,” I said, waving my cane in the direction of my desk. As I pulled up her skirt and slip, I could see that she was visibly shaking with fear. I felt a bit sorry for but she had broken the rules and had to take her punishment. As with Roberta, I whipped the cane four times across Avril’s bottom. Each time she stood up and grabbed her bottom. She cried after the second. The last two again were low down. I sent her away in floods of tears. I must admit I hated caning a girl like that but I had a job to do.
As if that wasn’t enough excitement for one day, I was on lights out duty that evening. This involved going round the dorms making sure everyone was bedded down and putting out the lights. It didn’t end there, because invariably girls would wait for a while and then get up to all sorts of tricks. It then involved going round again later, listening for talking or looking to see if there were any lights on. On this particular evening, I set off and did the rounds of the junior dorms. Lights out was at nine thirty. I then went back to my room and went round again at ten when seniors put their lights out. I then waited until eleven and went round again. As expected, I saw a faint light under one of the junior dorm doors. I went in to find three girls sitting on a bed, looking at a magazine with a torch. I walked up to them and held out my hand. “Give,” I said to the girl with the magazine.
She handed it over immediately.
“Is this yours?” I asked.
“Yes Miss Fawcett.”
It wasn’t the sort of magazine that I would expect young first year girls to be looking at. “You know the rules about magazines, come and see me straight after breakfast,” I said. “Now then, out of bed after lights out. Go to the end of your beds, nightie’s up.”
The three girls went to the end of their bed’s, pulled up their nighties and bent over. I took my trusty hairbrush, which always accompanied me on my rounds, out of my pocket and went to the first girl. Six firm whacks to the bare bottom was the prescribed medicine for naughty girls. After the whacks and accompanying cries of pain, the girl went and climbed into bed. I did the next two and continued on my round. Nothing else to report.
Next morning the girl knocked on my study door.
“Come in.”
The girl came up to my desk where the cane was lying ready.
“You know the rules regarding magazines don’t you Merle?”
“Yes Miss Fawcett,” she replied with head bowed.
“So what happens to naughty girls with magazines, unsuitable ones at that?”
“They get the cane,” replied Merle.
“They do, so I suggest you bend over.” I got up and walked round behind her. Then I gave her three sharp whacks and sent her on her way, furiously rubbing her bottom. I expect she would be at it again before long, but that was someone else’s problem.
“Rosemary, I’ve just seen two girls go round behind the pavilion, probably gone for a smoke,” I said. “Pop round and see what they’re up to will you please.”
“Yes Miss Fawcett. What shall I do with them?”
“Send them over to me.”
Rosemary made her way to the pavilion. Shortly afterwards I saw her coming in my direction with the two girls in tow.
“Having crafty fag were we?” I said when they arrived.
Rosemary put her hand over her mouth, presumably to stifle a laugh at the terminology that I was using. Not the sort of words that a housemistress at a posh girls boarding school would be expected to use. I was never one for keeping up appearances.
“Yes Miss Fawcett,” they replied.
“Be outside my study straight after the game. I’ve got a better way of warming you up than smoking a cigarette. I’ll take your cigarettes while you’re here.”
The two girls handed over a packet of cigarettes and then trudged off disconsolately. “Girls will be girls,” I said to Rosemary as we resumed spectating.
End of the match, and I made my way back to my room and then off to my study to warm two naughty bottoms.
“In you go,” I said as I opened the study door.
The two girls followed me in as I went straight to the cupboard where I kept my now quite extensive collection of canes. Quite how I came by so many over the years I’m not sure, some I acquired, some inherited from other teachers. Normally, for two sixteen year olds I would choose one of the thicker ones but this time I just felt like using one of swishy thin ones. I took one and turned to face the girls. “I see little point in wasting time over this. You were caught fair and square, and you know the penalty. Avril, wait outside.” I said, as I bent the cane nearly double, it was that supple. I always kept my canes supple, by standing them periodically in water.
Avril left, leaving Roberta hopping nervously from one foot to the other. I turned to her and said. “May I invite you to bend over my desk?”
“Yes Miss Fawcett,” replied Roberta, stepping forward.
I had no hesitation in hauling up her skirt and slip for maximum effect. When I was ready, I whipped the cane across her ample backside. Being a thin and whippy cane, it wrapped itself right round her bottom. She let out a loud gasp and put her hand back to rub her bottom.
“Hand away, you can save that for later,” I said.
I resumed with three good swipes across the middle of Roberta’s bottom, which brought cries of pain. The final two I aimed lower down to provide some discomfort when she tried to sit down.
I then dismissed a very tearful and hopefully contrite schoolgirl. Avril came in and was on the brink of tears when she approached my desk.
“Over you go,” I said, waving my cane in the direction of my desk. As I pulled up her skirt and slip, I could see that she was visibly shaking with fear. I felt a bit sorry for but she had broken the rules and had to take her punishment. As with Roberta, I whipped the cane four times across Avril’s bottom. Each time she stood up and grabbed her bottom. She cried after the second. The last two again were low down. I sent her away in floods of tears. I must admit I hated caning a girl like that but I had a job to do.
As if that wasn’t enough excitement for one day, I was on lights out duty that evening. This involved going round the dorms making sure everyone was bedded down and putting out the lights. It didn’t end there, because invariably girls would wait for a while and then get up to all sorts of tricks. It then involved going round again later, listening for talking or looking to see if there were any lights on. On this particular evening, I set off and did the rounds of the junior dorms. Lights out was at nine thirty. I then went back to my room and went round again at ten when seniors put their lights out. I then waited until eleven and went round again. As expected, I saw a faint light under one of the junior dorm doors. I went in to find three girls sitting on a bed, looking at a magazine with a torch. I walked up to them and held out my hand. “Give,” I said to the girl with the magazine.
She handed it over immediately.
“Is this yours?” I asked.
“Yes Miss Fawcett.”
It wasn’t the sort of magazine that I would expect young first year girls to be looking at. “You know the rules about magazines, come and see me straight after breakfast,” I said. “Now then, out of bed after lights out. Go to the end of your beds, nightie’s up.”
The three girls went to the end of their bed’s, pulled up their nighties and bent over. I took my trusty hairbrush, which always accompanied me on my rounds, out of my pocket and went to the first girl. Six firm whacks to the bare bottom was the prescribed medicine for naughty girls. After the whacks and accompanying cries of pain, the girl went and climbed into bed. I did the next two and continued on my round. Nothing else to report.
Next morning the girl knocked on my study door.
“Come in.”
The girl came up to my desk where the cane was lying ready.
“You know the rules regarding magazines don’t you Merle?”
“Yes Miss Fawcett,” she replied with head bowed.
“So what happens to naughty girls with magazines, unsuitable ones at that?”
“They get the cane,” replied Merle.
“They do, so I suggest you bend over.” I got up and walked round behind her. Then I gave her three sharp whacks and sent her on her way, furiously rubbing her bottom. I expect she would be at it again before long, but that was someone else’s problem.
Statistics: Posted by lisamum10 — Mon Jan 23, 2017 9:21 pm