Long haul, maximum discomfort
Posted by Abel on 08 Oct 2007 at 08:53 am | Tagged as: Perverting Reality
Anyone here ever taken one of those interminable long-haul flights to some distant land, which stop over for a couple of hours at some randomly-chosen midpoint for a change of crew? Take London to Sydney, via Bangkok, or something similar?
A conversation with a colleague who’s about to head off on some such journey inspired a naughty little fantasy. The girls of a distinguished Scottish* Academy would be heading around the world for an exchange trip to their sister school. School uniforms themselves being too impractical, the young ladies would dress identically in white polo shirts with the school crest, and navy blue tracksuits.
It would be a large group – perhaps the entire Lower Sixth would be travelling, say sixty or eighty girls. The Headmistress would travel with them, accompanied by a small number of staff trusted for their ability to maintain good order.
The young ladies would be in high spirits on the internal flight from Edinburgh to London. It would be on the first intercontinental leg of the journey that their conduct would get out of hand. Colonising an entire block of seating at the rear of the plane, they’d sneak alcoholic drinks from the trolley, clamber over chairs, the noise levels becoming intolerable to fellow passengers. The Captain would ask to “have a quiet word” with the Headmistress, as a result of the barrage of complaints.
Yet after the stopover, the young ladies’ behaviour would be immaculate for the final stretch of the trip. Silence would prevail amongst the cuddling girls, save for an occasional sniffle. Passengers would be astonished: what might have brought about the change? They’d look at the Headmistress in awe: the power of words, they’d think, amazed at the effectiveness of the scolding she must have given after leading her girls into a side room at the airport.
Few would have imagined the truth: the XH Lochgelly brought forth from her hand luggage; those tracksuit bottoms pulled down, the searing strokes across each girl’s backside (”eight, given the degree of misconduct I have just had to witness, and the shame you have brought on the school”) guaranteeing perfect conduct once they had returned, uncomfortably, to their plane seats.
* It’d have to be Scottish. A tawse fits neatly into hand luggage; canes do not.
-------Now you can buy spanking-related gifts with our original designs.
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Makes me very nostalgic for school ski trips. Though we were immaculately well behaved. Of course.
Oh, yum!
That poor Headmistress’ arm, though–it must have ached.
Yes, a yummy fantasy indeed! In fact, I substituted it for my usual fantasy and only made it though to the second girl before….
I wonder, though, how long that layover was. What do you think, Abel, would you allow about 2 minutes per backside? With a minimum of 60 girls, it would have taken the headmistress 2 hours. I do hope the reliable staff assisting on the journey were permitted to help out. Oh, but only one tawse. That poor headmistress! Hope she was ambidextrous.
Dear Abel,
Fantasy indeed! Come, come, now.
We know how polite and respectful you are, of everyone’s privacy, but to pretend this is a fantasy is going a bit far. When girls are naughty they deserve to be punished, and we shouldn’t pretend otherwise.
I was on that flight, and, if my guess is right, I was sitting in the row ahead of you. Your spanking stories entertained me wonderfully. I only wish I could have turned around and stared at Haron more. She is such a cutie—truly a delight for the eyes.
Remember me? The man the schoolgirl dumped the drink on? Well, I’ll tell you, it was at my instigation that the captain had those words with the headmistress, and it’s fortunate for those girls that the stopover was in Singapore. That’s a place that really knows how to instill manners, and those schoolgirls are the better for it.
You’re quite right that the punishment of sixty-eight girls would take significant time, but, as the captain was Malaysian, he was able to facilitate matters.
I, as an injured party, and the one to instigate redress, was invited, no, rather, forced, as a matter of judicial necessity, to testify and be present as sentences were carried out. As such, I can tell you with certainty the cause of the girl’s dramatic shift in behavior.
The judge was a stickler and brooked no truck, and those girls who had too much to drink and couldn’t control their outbursts in the judge’s chambers got the worst of it. The girls who were guilty (there were a few “good” girls who got only a warning) were sentenced to a minimum of eight of the best, and the punishments went up from there. Those who protested got four in addition, and the two who still couldn’t keep their mouths shut got four on top of that.
You’re right about the punishment having been done with a tawse. The offense was not severe enough for a caning. The judge first proscribed what was translated as a “short whip,” but the headmistress entreated leniency and the judge relented.
Still, the facility for the administration of discipline to which the girls were taken to be, as the headmistress called it, “spanked” (a euphemism if ever I heard one), was terribly frightening. And the six men assigned to administer the punishments, each with many years of experience under his belt, pardon the pun, was even more frightening, especially to a tender schoolgirl who’d never had her bottom more than slippered or hand spanked or swatted with a lightweight paddle by the headmistress.
Well, I’ll tell you, those six men and their assistants made quick work of the fifty or so girls who got it, though not very quick, especially as far as the girls were concerned. Neither the humiliation nor the suffering that comes from a good tawsing was compromised. And, they don’t administer punishment on only bare bottoms over there. The victims are made entirely naked. Every stitch comes off, which the headmistress protested until she was threatened with a tawsing herself.
The girls were put in six lines, and as each of their turns came near they were stripped by the whipmasters’ assistants. Each girl was fastened to a whipping bench, and her bottom was raised by a block of wood, wrapped in fiber, which was inserted beneath her hips. Her legs were spread. No modesty was allowed. The whipmaster stood to the side, and when she was fastened and ready he commenced to punish her.
The men were strong and hardened to their task. Their arms struck brutally and quick as bolts of lightening, and the effect was electrifying. Screams rent the air. And for each four official strokes, administered on the buttocks, a stroke was applied to the inside of each of a girl’s thighs, another reason for the spreading of legs. The shrieks, the wailing, the begging for relief, and the crying, during and afterward, were most gratifying. And for all the violence of the lashing I didn’t note a single scratch, on any girl, though redder buttocks I’ve never seen, and I’ve seen more then my share, but that’s another story.
At the end each girl was made to apologize to the captain of the plane and to me. Each apology was delightfully tearful and contrite. I liked that part especially, and, I must confess, it made me quite hard: “Hard as a rod of jade,” the pilot teased me. He had a rod of jade too, I noticed.
It’s no surprise that behavior was perfect after that, for the plane was scheduled to stop in Singapore on girls’ trip home, and the judge had friends in Sydney, or so he said.
It’s a wonder that the girls could sit at all, and, I must confess again, I couldn’t sit still either. I had to satisfy myself in the lavatory—twice—before I could settle down.
Not wanting a repeat of this on the way back, the students obtained sleeping pills and kept the chaperons sedated on the return flight.
Back at the school, the students assured the chaperons that they behaved like perfect angels while the chaperons were resting from the exertions of the trip, having learned their lesson on the way out, and omitting to tell them *which* lesson they learned.
(I know. Not in your universe. Feel free to remove. And because the last clause is somehow grammatically incorrect.)
Mark: a strong punishment for what seems minor infractions. Given the severity, I wonder what punishment is appropriate for the headmistress and her staff who were so ineffectual as leaders that they could neither prepare their students properly for the trip nor keep them under reasonable control? After all, some of the blame lies with them.[Edited by moderators]. Surely everyone who does wrong should pay.
sclurker,
I suppose you meant Matt, not Mark, or perhaps I have a guilty conscience.
You are right. I live in the US, and being unfamiliar with the system of “forms” used in parts of the UK I was under the mistaken impression that the girl’s were in the sixth semester of college and therefore approximately twenty years old. I have since educated myself (see wikipedia “sixth form”) and realize that the young women were sixteen, seventeen, or perhaps eighteen.
[Edited by moderators]. I suppose I was also misled by Abel’s own reference to a tawse. I will be more careful in the future. We must all be more careful about this issue. My apologies to all.
Sincerely,
Matt
After some careful discussion, Haron and I have edited a couple of phrases out of the last couple of comments. We don’t think Matt needs to beat himself up (!) - it’s great when people show their creative side, even if the outcome isn’t exactly to our personal taste.
We’re extremely careful not to encourage any inappropriate discussion here. In this case, we’re confident that no-one did (or intended to) write anything that it wasn’t appropriate to post. But we don’t want to leave any snippets here that might lead people to think that we or our readers condone content that would not be acceptable.
And as we’ve also said in a previous post - this blog is a sex-free zone!
Haron and Abel,
Thank you for your response and statement of your position. I enjoy your blog and I certainly enjoy springing from your posts into fantasy. The above is my second mini-story here and, occasionally, I’d like to write others without inhibition. I won’t beat myself up, but there was enough in sclurker’s comments that it gave me pause.
Respectfully to all,
Matt