The truant, her housemaster and the headmaster‏

A lovely little spontaneous scene with EJ and HH over the new year…

He was in his study; she and I arrived. We hadn’t specifically planned anything, but I immediately became her housemaster; she’d been caught playing truant for a third time. When I’d caned her the previous time, I’d told her that any repetition would result in a trip to the headmaster.

He was most concerned, clearly, and handed me a heavy cane. He asked me to punish her over her jeans, and I made her bend across the desk and hold the far edges. Six strokes: any kicking or flinching would mean I’d start again.

They were hard: perhaps not so hard as the embarrassment of being watched as she was being beaten. As I measured for the final stroke, she complained that she’d already had six; both the headmaster and I confirmed she’d only had five. I determined that I needed to start again, to teach her to count to six.

Once I was done, it was the headmaster’s turn to speak to her and then make her bend over – only, to her shame, his six were to be on the bare. She unbuttoned and dropped her jeans, taking them down to her knees on his instruction, then – shamefacedly – lowered her knickers.

After two strokes, she kicked. The headmaster reminded her of what I’d told her, and began his tally again. She counted through the strokes bravely – the final one across the crease cutting home hardest of all. And then it was done, and she was made to adjust her clothing and leave…

…or stay for hugs, and have her bottom inspected. A dozen sentenced strokes that had turned into nineteen in practice turned out – despite the majority having been over trousers – to have been administered in a small area: she’d evidently been very brave. Nice to bring 2012 to a close with such a nice scene on the final afternoon; here’s to more in the year ahead.