The Spanking Writers

While we had Martha staying over the weekend, I wasn’t feeling great, preferred to abstain from being spanked. Luckily, this didn’t mean that I had to be excluded from any scenes.

At one point I found myself being appointed a Head Girl, and was summoned to witness the punishment of a schoolgirl called Rebecca. She had, apparently, returned from holiday late, having been let off with a warning after a similar offence the previous term.

After the girl had been duly lectured, and made to bend over the bed in her dorm, the Headmaster turned to me.

“Head girl,” he said. “Remind me what the usual punishment is for this offence.”

I had no idea, and didn’t particularly want to land Rebecca in more trouble than was fair – at the same time, I didn’t want Martha to be disappointed with not getting enough. I gave Abel an elaborate shrug. He helpfully stuck four fingers up.

“Four strokes, sir,” I said, wondering why he was going so low.

“Very well,” he said. “Since this is the second offence, and my lenience last term was obviously abused, I will double the punishment. Eight strokes.”

Ah. This explained the low number.

The poor girl was very brave. It was a hard caning: it started out simply firm, but the second half of it was truly impressive. The cane was going high up, and biting into Martha’s bottom with solid cracking sounds. I could see each pink welt form. It made quite a difference not to be worried about my own caning, recently administered or yet to come. Instead, I got the full voyeuristic pleasure from seeing a pretty girl’s bottom neatly striped.

When the caning was over, I was dismissed, while the Headmaster stayed to lecture the poor girl. When Abel reappeared in the corridor, we exchanged a grin and a high-five.

I’m sure that isn’t something Headmasters and Head Girls do, but it was pretty satisfying nonetheless.

I discovered a wonderful money-saving technique today, which I feel I must share with other gentlemen whose young ladies are prone to drift into clothes shops.

Haron and I were out strolling. We chanced upon a selection of stylish garments in a sale. She picked out two pairs of trousers to try on… then realised:.

“But I can’t go into a communal changing room like this.”

‘This‘, in case you were wondering, was with a freshly striped backside. Very freshly. Very striped.

So now you know. Whip your girl soundly before heading towards the stores, and your wallet will be as safe as can be.