Miss Andersen


Miss Andersen spankedHe entered the room and she buried her face in the pillow. She could not see his face anyway. She had never seen his face.

She felt his hand at her waist as he flipped up her petticoats and then drew down her bloomers to her ankles. Then she felt the tickle of the rod against her exposed flesh but as always before the first blow was struck he was gone.

Eliza Andersen awoke bathed in sweat and kicked back the bed clothes. The chill of the room was refreshing after such a hot close dream, but as always she was touched with a sense of regret of something unfulfilled.

She was now almost 37 and the dreams had been with her all her life; ever since she had left the Potsdam Ladies Academy to become a teacher.

At school the prospect of a thrashing had always terrified her. Even now she could almost feel the sweep of the rods across her bare bottom and her heart raced. It had seemed in those days that whatever she did she could not escape the summons to Frau Heidrich’s room even to the age of 21 when she had graduated.

How happy she had been to escape into her profession and become the wielder of the rod and cane rather than its recipient. Perhaps almost too happy, she mused.

The thought sent her sitting upright with a start and she glanced nervously at her reflection in bedside glass. How ridiculous, she only did what was necessary for the maintenance of order. All the same she thought of her favourite student Francine and her neat round bottom exposed to the cane.

Eliza shook herself and gazed more boldly into the glass; her clear blue eyes accused her bitterly. She was a professional and a leading light at the Lucerne Finishing School for daughters of the nobility of Europe, such introspection was beneath her.

She reached for a hairbrush and began to attack her unruly locks of non-descript dark hair, ignoring the almost invisible intruding grey streaks, deciding they were remnants of the blonde of her youth.


Eliza Andersen paused at the corner to count the crocodile of young ladies. She hated such sorties into the town and was certain that like sheep, the girls would scatter into the surrounding streets if they were not closely marshalled.

Then there were the young men who boldly loitered in shop doorways and hung on lampposts to ogle her charges or sometimes indulging in wolf-whistling.

As each girl passed she fixed them with a hard gaze least one of them return a smile or exchange an encouraging glance. There would be consequences for such behaviour.

Eliza did not see the man across the street following the scene over the top of his journal. Although it was not the silly girls of 19 and 20 that he followed, but the more sophisticated charms of Miss Andersen herself.

There is a fortress worthy of storming he thought as he stroked his broad chin in amusement.

Karl von Straus had recently left the army and now being on the retreating side of 40 he was seeking new challenges. He was not yet ready to return to the family estates of Bavaria and had come to Switzerland in search of distraction.

Eliza Andersen cut a fine figure in her smart brown waist-nipped dress and under her severe demeanour he fancied he saw something in her lively blue eyes.

“Don’t dawdle there Katherine,” Eliza barked imperious, “And Francine if I even think you are looking at that boy you will see me later.”

A pretty little blonde blushed and dipped her head at the words.

Karl smiled at her imagined fate should she incur the wrath of Miss Andersen and then his eyes strayed to the latter’s ample seat and his grin broadened. A colleague had recently pointed her out at some town function or other, although he doubted that Miss Andersen would remember. However, if he could organise things in some way it would be enough.


Francine stood before Miss Andersen wide-eyed and blinking.

“You were warned Francine,” Eliza intoned.

“Please Miss Andersen I’m ever so sorry,” Francine said wringing her hands.

Eliza sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose.

“You are always sorry Francine,” Eliza said wearily, “And now you will be sorrier still.”

Francine’s mouth became as round as her eyes and for a moment she gangled awkwardly like a rabbit about to flee and shot a glance at the door.

Eliza took up a medium length cane from her desk and pointed with purpose at the back of the chair reserved for such moments.

“You know the position now give me your derrière,” Eliza said crisply.

“Yes Ma’am,” Francine said sorrowfully as she reached under her long skirts and fumbled for her underwear.

Her bloomers fell to meet her shoes even as Francine rolled up the back hem of her skirt in tandem with her petticoats. Then with her small fists bunched over the exposed neat domes of her bottom she turned to face the chair and folded herself forward so that her behind was elevated.

Eliza’s throat became tight as the usual thrill matched her hidden shame and she contemplated the proffered behind. For a moment Eliza considered applying a dozen strokes, but the sin was a small one.

“I think eight this time,” Eliza softly breathed.

“Yes Miss Andersen,” Francine woefully acknowledged.

The first stroke sliced the air and landed with a satisfying thwack, which Francine managed in silence.

Eliza eyed the white line across pale flesh as it pinkened and delayed the next stroke as long as she dared.

Francine grunted softly at the second impact and Eliza waited until both pink lines had darkened and welted up a little. Then she added another stroke.

This time the small bottom shuddered and Francine whimpered a little, her breathing audible now.

I will have tears by seven, Eliza bet with herself in the event Francine gave a wet wail of “ooh” at six; the last two strokes extracting more fulsome cries.

Eliza would have loved to put the girl in the corner but her offence really was a trifle and some penalties needed to be held in reserve. After all she was in no doubt that Francine would be back again.


Time past as much as they ever did and Eliza continued to dream. She filled her life with days carefully shaped to hide the longing for something which she could barely acknowledge. Deportment got taught, essays got marked and bottoms got caned. The latter, the only real joy Eliza felt, although she knew not why and it troubled her far too much to consider.

Then one day she found the time to visit a coffee house in one of the better parts of town. It was in the Viennese style and was becoming quite the fashion among the well-to-do. The windows were large and grand to pour light upon tasteful furnishings and elegant waiters running hither and thither. In one corner was a brass trolley bearing gateaux and numerous confectionaries, guarded judiciously by a young lady wearing a white lacy apron.

The best thing however was the smell which pervaded all with its blend of coffee, spice and unnameable flavourings used in the preparation of the proffered delicacies.

Eliza tried to appear as cool as the cumber savouries and inclined her head modestly as she gazed around the room, but the truth was she was in a world on the very edge of her class and the experience was a treat beyond her daily means. In some ways she felt as wide-eyed and innocent as Francine about to be justly thrashed on a wet Wednesday afternoon.

She had been sitting for quite some time when she noticed a man of military bearing watching her from the other side of the salon.

At first she tried to ignore him and fixed her eyes on her gateaux plate, but once he had seen her recognition of him, he seemed all the more encouraged.

Finally a waiter appeared and offered her a slice of cherry gateaux compliments of Oberst Baron Karl von Straus.

“This is… well really not done,” Eliza spluttered, “We have not been introduced.”

The waiter bowed low and briskly crossed the room to where the man of military bearing sat. Again he bowed low and for a few moments the two men exchanged words. Then all at once the man stood and marched towards her.

He had no sooner closed on her position as he might as if she were a fortification when he stopped and bowed with a click of his heels.

“Allow me to present myself madam,” he said crisply and with a warm smile, “I am Karl von Straus, late of His Majesties Bavarian Guard.”

“Why I am… flattered, but surely a person of breeding would not… I mean to say if one of my girls were to act so forwardly I would spank her soundly.”

The words were out of her mouth beyond recall before she could stop them and she flushed.

“Madam, I merely offered you cake, surely not an act that invites such insult,” Karl frowned, “Perhaps it is you that deserves a spanking.”

“My apologies I… I… oh dear,” Eliza stuttered.

Karl did not miss the reaction and his eyes narrowed. For a moment he considered pressing home the advantage but he had yet to marshal his forces and decided to wait until he was on firmer ground. So instead he again clicked his heels and said, “Please enjoy the gateaux.”

Then to the waiter he said, “More coffee for madam and put her bill on my account.”

Then with a final bow he was gone.


Eliza was in a whirl for days afterwards. Even her dreams changed. For once the stern punisher had a face and whenever she was presented with a bottom to thrash her thoughts ran to the idea of being in the errant student’s place with the strangely fierce baron wielding the rod.

It was all she could do to wait for another day of leisure so that she could return to the coffee house in the hopes of another encounter.

So lost in her thoughts did she become that she feared that others might notice so when she was summoned to the Directress’s office she wondered if she was to be reprimanded.

The Directress, Frau Munchheimer, had a suite at the far end of the west wing, which suited her rather laissez-faire approach to running the school and was largely why Eliza was left to decide upon and administer punishments to the girls; an arrangement that suited them both.

The Directress’s quarters were at the end of a long panelled passage overlooking the orangery and with every step Eliza formulated excuses and promises regarding her inattentiveness that past week. But all too soon the heavy oak door loomed and Eliza stood before it with her mouth dry.

Time stood still at her mouse-scratch knock and as she waited all her carefully crafted arguments emptied from her mind like sands from a glass.

“Miss Andersen, please come in,” Frau Munchheimer finally called from within.

Eliza strode in with more confidence than she felt only to freeze at the sight that greeted her.

Manfully posed by the fireplace, stood Karl and he looked, for anyone who cared to see, as though he was home in his castle and totally at ease with the smiling Directress.

Eliza was about to blurt out in recognition, but Karl cut her off saying, “Is this the young lady who I have heard so much about?”

“Quite,” Frau Munchheimer beamed, “May I present Miss Eliza Andersen who is my right hand. Miss Andersen, Baron von Straus.”

Eliza swallowed back her confusion and managed to remember her curtsy.

“Delighted,” she said unevenly.

“The baron is considering making a generous donation to our little establishment, but being a military man he is concerned that our approach to discipline may be too… modern,” Frau Munchheimer continued. “I have explained that for the most part you are responsible for such matters and I have suggested that you show him around.”

“Capital idea,” Karl said enthusiastically.

“Well… yes… I would be delighted,” Eliza said quickly.


They were no sooner out of the room when Eliza rounded on him.

“How dare you come to my place of employment? Who do you think you are?” She raged in a harsh whisper.

“I am Baron von Straus and now we have been introduced,” Karl smiled, “I am here to make a financial donation. Why else?”

Eliza glared at him.

“Would you prefer that we return to Frau Munchheimer and tell her we are already acquainted and that you object to my presence?”

Eliza pursed her lips and said nothing.

“Quite so,” Karl said sharply, indicating that she should proceed with the tour. “Perhaps you should show me your study first. That is where you deal with errant young ladies is it not?”

Eliza sucked in her cheeks and brusquely walked ahead.

Once they arrived at Eliza’s room Karl once again took his ease and presented himself as if he were the host.

“Wh-what is it you wish to know?” Eliza began once she saw he was in no hurry.

“Discipline,” he said curtly, “I trust you do not trifle with lines or impositions or any such nonsense?”

“Occasionally, but…” Eliza licked her lips and thought the best way to tackle such an indelicate subject was to pick up a cane and hand it to him.

“It looks effective enough, better than a childish slipper applied to the behind anyway,” Karl said feigning interest, “How is it applied?”

“With vigour, I assure you,” Eliza said indignantly.

“I mean, to which end and so forth,” Karl grinned.

“To the place that God provided for the purposes,” Eliza blushed, “After… after suitable adjustments.”

“You mean young ladies present their behinds as God made them?” Karl suggested mischievously.

“Quite so,” Eliza shifted uneasily where she stood.

“I prefer the birch,” Karl said, giving the cane a flick through the air. “Any experience of it?”

“Eh… it is occasionally employed for… eh… that is to say… serious matters, but…”

“Your demeanour suggests more than an occasional encounter,” Karl challenged her.

Eliza blushed to her ears.

“It was much more commonly used in recent times was it not? The birch I mean,” Karl offered, “Perhaps you were on the receiving end as a girl?”

“It was not unknown,” Eliza whispered.

“Good,” Karl said with an emphatic nod, “I would see its return to supplement this device. That would be conditional on my contribution.”

“I see,” Eliza licked her lips.

“You have no objection?”

“None, I…”

Karl removed his jacket and then again took up the cane.

“What are you doing? This is most…” Eliza spluttered.

“We have unfinished business I believe,” Karl replied casually.

“W-what do you mean?”

“Tell me, what would you do if a girl was rude to her betters? Rude yet, to one who is a patron of the school?” Karl said ignoring her.

“I-I think you know,” Eliza whispered not taking her eyes from the rod in his hand.

“I think I do,” Karl agreed. “Tell me, your students are not children, they are young women, are they not?”

Eliza nodded.

“None too old for a sound thrashing?”

Eliza shook her head.

“From time to time, with Frau Munchheimer’s permission of course, I shall visit and monitor your… progress,” Karl explained. “On another occasion I will birch you soundly as you deserve. As you have agreed is appropriate. But for now this will suffice for your transgression.”

“If you think…” Eliza was wide-eyed and took a step backwards.

“I will have your bottom bare please,” Karl said firmly.

“Baron please… I… this is… this highly…” Eliza swallowed. “I will not have you exploiting my girls in this manner.”

“The girls I wish not to see,” Karl said, “That is your province. But I will have your pretty bare bottom bent over that chair.”

“You are a cad Sir and you have no right,” Eliza gasped, but her heart and mind were racing.

“Since I intend to marry you, I have every right, you insulted me,” Karl growled.

“Marry…?” Eliza gasped.

“Indeed, in pursuit of that intention I will be ruthless. So unless you wish me to take up our former acquaintanceship with the Frau Directress, I suggest you submit.”

Eliza could scarce draw breath and stood panting in the centre of the rug.

Karl loosened his cravat and flexed the cane like sword as he watched.

“Please Baron, this is too… sudden. I…”

He sighed and appeared to consider her words.

“You questioned my breeding did you not?” He said calmly.

She nodded and whispered, “I’m sorry.”

“So by your lights this is deserved?”

She nodded, adding, “But…”

“My overtures are too sudden you say, so here is my proposition,” he said sternly, “Accept your correction and I will court you formerly for a year as well as support this school. Then I will make a more… conventional proposal. If not, I will deposit 10,000 francs with Frau Munchheimer and you will never see me again.”

“Why me? I am not such a catch. Surely there are…”

“Shush,” he soothed gently, “Do not impugn my honour by impugning yours or there will be further consequences.”

Eliza considered this for a moment and then nodded.

“My lord baron I am sorry and I deserve chastisement,” Eliza muttered somewhat shyly, “If you will undertake my correction I will give you permission to call on me.”

Karl nodded then barked, “Well!?”

“Sir?” Eliza started, suddenly puzzled.

“Place your bare bottom over that chair at once,” Karl ordered.


It had been a long time since Eliza had been in the supplicant position and never had she been seen even this partially naked by a man. The idea thrilled her even as she trembled. The indignity of presenting her not inconsiderable bare bottom to him as she lay over the back of the chair was primeval. And yet the tingle she felt was more intense than that felt when she had Francine at her mercy. It was almost as if that experience was but a shadow or a foretaste of the one she now shared with Karl.

“How many strokes would you award a student for insulting a patron of the school as you did?” Karl asked pointedly.

Eliza shuddered as she felt a touch of the rattan on her chilled naked flesh.

“I will not ask you again,” Karl growled, “The next time you prevaricated you will find my response harsh I promise you.”

Eliza thought about it and realised the truth. Such a girl may expect a public birching, but at the very least she would get a sound dozen.

“Perhaps 12,” Eliza whispered, “Perhaps more.”

“I’ll take that as a guide,” Karl said sharply, “You will receive two dozen as you should have known better.”

Karl felt a pulse in his head and he had to pause to adjust his trousers before he was comfortable in a punisher’s stance. But Eliza saw none of this. Her head fizzed as she threatened to faint, whether from her inverted head, the situation or the threat of a double drubbing she knew not.

Her small hands clutched at the antimacassar lace that had fallen into the seat of the chair prior to her taking position. The soft fabric felt reassuring in her hands and for a moment it held all her attention like she had never seen it before.

Then a slice of pain crossed her exposed bottom and she lurched up bucking with an angry growl.

“No complaining now, you richly deserve this,” Karl warned.

He immediately added to the vivid rose welt cutting her cheeks and watched her buttocks churn and roll in position.

“Ah,” Eliza squealed, hating herself for carrying worse than a new girl under her first chastisement.

Karl felt the power in his hands and lined himself up rapier style to deliver three more cuts and watched her dance.

“Oh my lord,” Eliza gasped.

“Oh, I do hope you address me or I shall add strokes for blasphemy,” Karl threatened.

“Yes Sir,” Eliza lied, taking a moment to rock her hips back and forth like a dog with a bone.

Within a minute Karl had doubled her bill so that her bottom was scored red with angry lines from crown to under-bum and her breathing was heavily laboured.

Eliza was transported to the dark place she inhabited between dreams and awakening with only the burning throb sawing at her behind pinning her to reality. Then as two more strokes seared into her she heard someone close by begin to cry. A stranger to her now and someone she was leaving behind.

“You may well cry,” Karl chided her, “But to serve you well, I will pay you out with 30 at out next encounter, impeccable behaviour or no.”

“Yes Sir,” Eliza consented, but she was sobbing heavily now and cursing herself she had not the stoicism or dignity to forebear in silence.

Over the next minute Karl lay-on six further strokes as Eliza bucked and howled. She scarce had time to recover from each biting cut before its fellow sang into her.

“Have you ever been so cruel?” Karl demanded; his blood now up.

Yes, she thought, knowing it was true.

“Are you not mastered?” Karl pressed her.

“Yes,” Eliza wailed.

Karl regretted his mercy and wished he had promised more. All the same he enjoyed his power as he sliced in the final six with a fencer’s skill.

At the final cut, Eliza collapsed into the chair and bawled like her merest student, revelling in her utter surrender to the pain.

“You will furnish birch rods for our next encounter and then pray I do not use them,” Karl said, picturing judicial bundles as he spoke, although he suspected that he would have to settle for a governess birch.

Harsher measures would require more training before Eliza would submit.

The surge of power rivalled his last cavalry charge and his nostrils flared as he again adjusted his breeches.

“Will you see me again?” He finally managed to ask her.

“Yes,” she sniffed as she too adjusted her limbs lest he see her shame.


It was days later and even with careful steps Eliza’s bottom flared with every step. She took delight in the fact that she could no more sit down than fly to the moon, although she had resolved to find a coffee house with good hard chairs once it was imaginable so that she could revel in her secret discomfort in public. A curious idea, she knew, and yet it thrilled her.

Thrice she had caned girls far beyond the normal penalties without the hint of remorse only to slip away to her room to make comparisons with their marks and hers. She found her own efforts wanting; a sin she would have to report to her secret fiancé as soon as he again called upon her.

Nevertheless today was a sad day as her favourite student was graduating, her family having found her suitable husband had taken out of school.

Eliza took a hidden thrill from receiving Francine in an upright position, amused by the fact that the girl would never know that her teacher carried a healthy crop of welts where she had ambitions to one day sit again.

“Oh Miss Andersen,” Francine gushed, “I just had to say goodbye before I left.”

“Why thank you dear, that is only polite,” Eliza said pleasantly, “But I doubt much if you will miss me.”

“Oh, I did not mind that so very much,” Francine blushed, her hand stealing to her behind as she said ‘that.’ “No I had to tell you that you are my very favourite teacher and I will miss you.”

Eliza blushed.

“I might even miss ‘that’ occasionally,” Francine added shyly.

“Well perhaps your new husband will take a firm line with you,” Eliza offered, although she was still blushing. “I understand that some husbands are so inclined in such matters.”

“Oh do you really think so?” Francine said eagerly.

“I’ll tell you what, I’ll write to your man and suggest it,” Eliza teased.

“Oh would you,” Francine gushed, missing the jest.

Eliza hid her expression as she turned her gaze fell upon the new delivery of birch rods in the corner waiting to be made up. She knew for certain that the new intake of students would be in for a warm time of it. But also, she pondered, she wondered how many of those rods she would feel across her own behind.


8 Responses to “Miss Andersen”

  1. Marevelous

  2. 2 paul1510

    nicely done, though I think that the Colonel was a little harsh for a first encounter. 🙂
    Still Eliza seemed to need it.

  3. DJ –
    Beautiful. Thank you.

  4. 4 cindy


    I was leaning forward into the monitor as I read your story. Outstanding. My mouth watered as I read what you wrote. You made the words come alive.

    I can understand how Francine might miss “that” occasionally. She admitted it. And thank goodness that there are people like Eliza who derive pleasure from administering thrashings to a bare bottom.


  5. 5 DJ

    Hi All

    Thanks for the positive feedback and glad you all liked it. 🙂

  6. 6 8otb

    A great story….. the best I have read in a long time…
    Many Thanks

  7. Romantic, a bit. Nice.

    But I would have fainted. 🙂

  1. 1 Our spanking blog – Less Than Three » Wellness from the birch

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