I’m speaking at a conference in Palm Springs next week*, and (as often happens before I have a major presentation to give) I find myself rewriting my speech in my sleep. New content comes and goes; pictures of the audience flash into life; I wake up and scribble down any bright ideas.
See, it’s not just kinky stuff that fills my dreams. But last night the two merged. It was no longer a conference, but a school trip, and I was the master in charge. The group was sitting round a common room in the hostel we’d rented. (I imagine days spent walking up mountains in bracing fresh air, muddy boots left in the porch, steaming mugs of tea on our return). They were all good girls – the elite of the sixth-form; good friends.
Suddenly, the atmosphere changed. As an argument developed, one of the girls (my favourite, as it happened) raised not only her voice but her hand, slapping her adversary.
I intervened immediately, of course, before things got out of hand. She was sent from the room to wait for me outside my room; the remaining girls were lectured as to how disappointed I was in them. I made them tidy the room, wash up their mugs, and sent them early to bed.
She’d been waiting a fair while as a result before I made it to my room: her face was already tear-stained. I took her inside: her apologies were so heartfelt that scolding was barely necessary. But “you understand that I cannot let this go unpunished” made her nod, and “you realise how fighting would be dealt with were we at school” led to a murmured “I’d be caned, sir.”
“Would you rather I informed your Housemaster on our return, or dealt with this now?”
A pause, plucking up the courage. “Now, please, sir.”
No canes here, on a school trip. I pulled up an armchair, and instructed her to lower her jeans and knickers to her ankles, and bend over my knees. The spanking was hard – very hard: if a girl was to take a caning-equivalent, then each smack had to count. She wriggled, cried, subsided. Stood afterwards, as I held her and told her that it was all over and there was nothing to worry about.
* If you happen to live in Palm Springs, or San Francisco where I’m spending a few days afterwards, and fancy some kinky company, I’d love to meet you!