A Room with a View
This is a work of fiction suggested by real events.
At 18 I had two close encounters with the cane; both of them in my last term of Sixth Form College. I was generally a good girl and had for the most part escaped any run-ins with either Mrs B the head of year or the deputy head who handled discipline. But during my last days things were to go rather awry.
My first encounter was a close call. I had recently acquired a boyfriend, always a distraction at that age and as a result had overslept causing me to miss a mock exam. Mrs B who would usually have handled it was preoccupied with the rest of the exam preparations and I was referred to the Deputy Head.
Although I was certain I would get no more than a bollocking and perhaps a detention, my tummy did flip-flops all the way up the usually forbidden main staircase and all the way to the waiting area outside the DH’s office.
It was one of those early summer days when everything was fresh and the sun poured through big old windows setting the dark wooden floors to glow in a taunting way that served to emphasise that there was definitely somewhere you would rather be.
Outside I could even hear of kids calling out as they played football, or my game back then, netball. I was rather keen and not to mention good at it.
So I arrived at the DH’s room rather in a funk. Well-founded in my view as no sooner had I got there I saw another girl already waiting. About my age, she looked as white as a sheet and totally fixated on chewing her nails.
Just then the door opened and a furious looking DH strode out of his office to glare at us both. He was a big man with wild unkempt hair and given to wearing tweed. He looked terrifying.
“Who are you?” he barked at me.
I told him, adding that Mrs B had sent me.
“Ah yes, the skiver,” he drawled, “Skipped out on the mocks wasn’t it?”
“Just one sir,” I blurted, “And I only overslept, I didn’t mean to.” I probably sounded a bit whiney.
He grunted and turned to the other girl. I don’t remember her name now, but he seemed very familiar with it and judging from the reluctantly way she stood up and followed him into his room I guessed she was just as acquainted with him.
Now although he closed the door behind him as he followed her in, it swung open a bit and he didn’t seem to notice. So hoping for some clue to my fate I sat on the corner seat where from that position I could hear and see somewhat into the room.
“This is the third time this term,” he scolded the girl before launching into her complete verbal destruction.
I don’t exactly recall her crimes now, but there were a lot I think. He terrified the life out of me anyway, so you can image how she was feeling. Then he said something like, “Okay girl, you know the drill.”
As I watched she turned around and lifted up her skirt. Then he moved behind her and yanked her knickers up tight so that her bum was just about bare. I hadn’t seen the stick at that point and just gaped.
It all happened so fast. First there was swishing sound as he lined up the cane noisily and then he brought down across her bottom really hard. A white line appeared on her pale exposed bottom and she jerked, but that was all. Then he caned her several times more at about four second intervals. I forgot to count, but there may have been six or eight strokes. By the last two or three she made moaning grunt sounds and had trouble holding position.
Her bum was amazing. The white lines quickly turned pink and kind of stood up in little long bumps. Then it was over and she stood up and dropped her skirt.
She was crying when she came out and hurried past me without looking my way. Then it was my turn and I thought I was going to be sick.
As I entered the cane was still on the desk and the DH had a face like thunder. I barely heard a word he said as I got my bollocking and it wasn’t until he set me an imposition and told me to get out that I realised that my bottom was safe. For the rest of the day I felt as if I had fallen from a great height and was still falling.
*
Later the following term discipline all got a bit lax with the usual demob happy soon-to-be-ex-students getting into various unsavoury hi-jinks. I guess I got carried away.
A group of us girls dared each other to remove our kickers and tease the boys with them. Of course we had on long skirts, not like today and carried along with the mood was like being drunk. Some of the girls did a moony into a classroom, although I wasn’t up for that and if my knickers hadn’t of been snatched and thrown over a fence I would have put them back on.
To make up for cowardice and lack of adventure I took a dare to burst into a classroom and shout ‘you mugs are all slaves to the system.’
Unfortunately what I took to be a normal class of one of the lower years turned out to be an exam in progress.
As I sat outside the Deputy Head’s office my stomach was in knots and all I could think about was my last near-miss with the cane. Surely I reasoned I was beyond such things, but even I felt I had gone too far.
Worse still I had been apprehended straightway and had not had chance to sort out my underwear deficit. I mean what could I say that wasn’t going to make the situation worse? I had never been so self-conscious.
This time there was no one waiting and the DH came from up the hall as if called away from something important and breezed past me. At his door he yelled, “come along we haven’t all day,” my only signal that I should follow him into his office.
He smiled sternly over the rim of his glasses as he suggested I was too old for such pranks. Then he said he understood about it being the end of my school days and said that he remembered his. He even asked what I was going to do next and what college I was going on to.
I was more than a little self-conscious knowing I had no knickers on and was disproportionately embarrassed. But for a while it didn’t seem so bad. It wasn’t until I relaxed a bit that he got a little fierce and pointed out how thoughtless I had been. I wholeheartedly agreed and blushed to my ears. But nevertheless I thought I had dodged a bullet again. After all I was 18 now and about to leave.
Then he said, “You seem to have a bit of a track record around messing up exams don’t you?”
I was about to protest, but I remembered why I had been to see him before.
“Yes Sir,” I said in a miserable voice.
“As you recall I let you see the consequence of such behaviour last time. It seems that you didn’t take the hint,” he said in a casual semi-breezy semi-stern way.
It was then that I began to suspect my fate and wasn’t entirely surprised when he said, “I think you know the drill don’t you?”
I felt as if the floor had come up to meet me and I entertained the idea of faking a faint.
“Bend over girl and lift up your skirt,” he snapped.
I couldn’t get the words out and he was truly terrifying so when he barked out the order again I just jumped to it.
“Good God,” he gasped, “More bloody pranks.”
“Yes Sir, sorry Sir,” I squeaked and made to rise. I could have died.
Then he said, “Stay where you are. Don’t think I haven’t seen it all before.”
I heard him pick up the cane. I heard it rattle on his desk. But I was still mortified and more concerned about showing the man my bare bum than anything else.
“You will take three extras for this little display and any fuss and I’ll double it,” he barked.
The swishy crack seemed to come from a long way away but the line of fire across my bare bottom was indescribable. I jerked upright and grabbed at my bum. I remember thinking I shouldn’t let my skirt drop.
“Down,” he bellowed, caning me again hard as I obeyed.
I sucked air in and out as I made little blowing sounds, this as two lines of burning pain sawed into my backside. I felt hot tears brimming behind my eyes and it was almost impossible to stay bent over.
I think maybe the caning took less than a minute but to me each stroke was spaced out by an age. By five or six (one’s ability to count is compromised I promise you) I was crying openly and my bottom felt like I had sat on a grill.
At one point I thought it would never end and panicked as I remember what he had threatened about doubling it. But after what I later counted as nine the punishment was over.
He let me sob it out for a minute or two and then he offered me a hanky before shaking my hand.
“Thank you Sir, sorry Sir,” I said. It was the way in those days, but I don’t remember I how I knew that.
Later I inspected the nine hard dark reddish-purple lines that stood out in ridges on my bottom. I was absolute riveted by the sight and feel of them. It was three days before I could sit easy again and they took about 10 days to go completely. For the last five of those they were just yellow-brown streaks that ached when I prodded them.
I was actually disappointed when they finally faded and have been fascinated by corporal punishment and spankings ever since. I think if I hadn’t left that term I would have been back somehow.
Filed under: DJB stories, education, M/F, real life, spanking stories | 7 Comments
Tags: can't sit down, caning, college, school punishment, spanking adult daughters, the cane
-
Spanking, spanking stories and spanking articles for adults
This blog is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented here are intended for adults. Nothing here should be interpreted as advocating any non-consensual spanking activity or the spanking of minors.
All characters appearing in short stories on this blog are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
This blog aims to explore themes of erotic discipline, female submission and spanking. It features stories, anecdotes and observations by DJB and others.
Spanking Stories
More Books...
Top Posts
Recent Comments
- Tony L on This sporting life, let the games begin
- Tony L on Sorority snippets
- Tony on A New Season of the Pledge
- Tony L on A New Season of the Pledge
- Tony L on Community
Blogroll
- Abigail Armani
- Acknowledging Imperfection
- ADDS (domestic spanking)
- All Things Spanking
- Anarie Brady
- Annex
- Au Fils des Jours
- BDSM Checklist
- Behind the barred window
- British Spanking Mags
- Cherry Red Report
- Chicago Spanking Review
- Chloe Carpenter
- Chris Chross Spankologist
- CLASS Ireland
- Contemporary Life
- Devlin O'Neil
- Domestic Submission
- English Headmaster
- Erica Scott
- Eris Martinet
- Grumpy Old Fart
- Hermonie's Heart
- Italian Spanking Art
- James Stephenson
- Library of Spanking Fiction
- Little Red School House
- Loki Renard
- London Alternative Market
- LSF Blog
- LSF Publications
- Megan Michaels
- Minelle's Breath
- Musings on…
- My Bottom Smarts
- Natasha Knight
- Nik Zula Spanking Art
- Oaks and Pines
- Our Bottoms Burn
- Pandora Blake
- Raven Red
- Red Bottomed Harlot
- Richard Windsor
- Ronnie Soul
- Sams Diaries
- Scarlet's Real Magic
- Smiles and Spanks
- Someone's Going to Get It
- Somtimes a girl II
- Spank Oz
- Spank Statement
- Spanking Blogg
- Spanking Bloggers Network
- Spanking Emporium
- Spanking Magazine Stories
- Spanking Muse
- Spanking Starlets
- Spanking Toons
- The Spanking Blog
- The Spanking Blog weblog
- Vanilla Spanking
- Wolfie Toons
The Professionals
Categories
- Abaconti (6)
- Abraham Heights (19)
- Ad Astra (10)
- Angela (34)
- art (167)
- articles (292)
- Blog of the Week (65)
- books (4)
- Bottom (6)
- Cade County (4)
- censorship (7)
- corner time (34)
- crime (1)
- Crimson and Black (3)
- discussion (119)
- DJB Corner (14)
- DJB stories (729)
- domestic (329)
- Dotes (24)
- education (86)
- Erin Investigates (4)
- Essays (6)
- Event (2)
- F/F (195)
- history (366)
- humour (41)
- Indigo Sigh (71)
- institutional (60)
- judicial (60)
- Justice Adjustment (4)
- letters (15)
- M/F (477)
- machine (3)
- magical realism (8)
- military (34)
- movies (68)
- other worldly (71)
- Perils of Paula (13)
- poll (3)
- publications (1)
- Raw (5)
- real life (493)
- Religion (35)
- retro (164)
- review (18)
- Romance (68)
- sci-fi (104)
- sci-fi and fantasy (50)
- sex (11)
- sorority (68)
- spanking (464)
- spanking stories (740)
- sport (13)
- steampunk (10)
- supernatural (24)
- The Academy (2)
- The Story of S (3)
- Theatre (1)
- Tip Top (70)
- TV (37)
- Uncategorized (28)
- vampire (3)
- vintage (253)
- waffle (103)
- web round-up (566)
- Weekly Round-up (276)
- western (51)
- wolf (38)
- workplace (117)
Archive
- September 2020
- August 2020
- July 2020
- June 2020
- May 2020
- April 2020
- March 2020
- February 2020
- January 2020
- December 2019
- November 2019
- October 2019
- September 2019
- August 2019
- July 2019
- June 2019
- May 2019
- April 2019
- March 2019
- February 2019
- January 2019
- December 2018
- November 2018
- October 2018
- September 2018
- August 2018
- June 2016
- May 2016
- April 2016
- March 2016
- February 2016
- January 2016
- December 2015
- November 2015
- October 2015
- September 2015
- August 2015
- July 2015
- June 2015
- May 2015
- April 2015
- March 2015
- February 2015
- January 2015
- December 2014
- November 2014
- October 2014
- September 2014
- August 2014
- July 2014
- June 2014
- May 2014
- April 2014
- March 2014
- February 2014
- January 2014
- December 2013
- November 2013
- October 2013
- September 2013
- August 2013
- July 2013
- June 2013
- May 2013
- April 2013
- March 2013
- February 2013
- January 2013
- December 2012
- November 2012
- October 2012
- September 2012
- August 2012
- July 2012
- June 2012
- May 2012
- April 2012
- March 2012
- February 2012
- January 2012
- December 2011
- November 2011
- October 2011
- September 2011
- August 2011
- July 2011
- June 2011
- May 2011
- April 2011
- March 2011
- February 2011
- January 2011
- December 2010
- November 2010
- October 2010
- September 2010
- August 2010
- July 2010
- June 2010
- May 2010
- April 2010
- March 2010
- February 2010
- January 2010
- December 2009
- November 2009
- October 2009
- September 2009
- August 2009
Great, great, great…
Thanks Veronica 🙂
Wonderful story, DJ. I understand what she means. He turned her on to corporal punishment. She would have done whatever it took to receive the cane again and again had this incident occurred earlier in her academic career.
Steady on girl – this is England we are talking about. She would have done everything she could to avoid it while thinking of nothing else and secretly hoping she would fail.
An excellent school story, DJ. Far more credible than most, I like it when the recipient is turned on by the caning and it certainly left one disappointed there weren’t any more experiences.
As I say inspired by a very short but true story.
The bare bottoms were an embellishment – but the description was lifted from the view in the mirror after. 😉
Abaconti: Future Imperfect is also based on a real situation and there is far less embellishment there believe it or not. Sometimes truth is stranger than fiction eh.
Your writing is lean and muscular