Amiga ISO Collection/AmigaDemoCD2.iso/ASCII/TEXTE/SEX/ADULTSHARE/H/HEADMIST.TXT

Text File | 1994-07-04 | 8.6 KB | 175 lines

                                Headmistress

Well all this talk of caning has whetted my appetite and I've
written a brief story/fantasy.  I hope someone somewhere enjoys
reading this.  I'd love to correspond with people who have simi-
lar interests to my own (basically if you like this, let's
talk!!!)

Oh, and I've given myself a silly alias; Achilles.  Don't blame
me - it's the first thing that came into my head!



           The Headmistress
            ==============

         By Achilles.


As I stood outside the heavy wooden front door of this unfamiliar
house I had a final attack of nerves and apprehension; caught
halfway between retreating and advancing I paused for a moment
and gathered my thoughts.

It began two weeks ago when I saw a personal ad in a magazine:
"Strict Headmistress orders naughty children to her study for
severe punishment."  I felt that, deep down, this was one fantasy
I just had to live out so I wrote to the supplied box number and
awaited a response.  A week later I received a phone call and a
woman's voice barked down the phone at me "Report to my office
next Friday, 7:00pm sharp" and then told me the address.  My
stomach turned as I replaced the handpiece and my buttocks trem-
bled in response.

So, a week later I stand here at this door knowing that to raise
that knocker would be a commitment and that I wouldn't leave that
house without suffering.  To hell with it!  I knocked on the door
and a voice from within shouted "ENTER!" I pushed and found that
the door was already open.  I entered the house and peered curi-
ously down a long corridor and saw a door at the end that ap-
peared to have a notice stuck to it at about chest level.  I
approached the door until I could read the words on the sign;
"Headmistresses Study".  I knocked on the door once and the same
voice that had beckoned me into the house abruptly called out
"Wait".

I stood outside that room for ten minutes in utter silence,
trying to perceive at least a sound from within that foreboding
room to no avail, when the voice finally summoned me:  "ENTER!"
I turned the handle, pushed the door open and walked in to the
room.  My first sight was a massive antique desk in front of
shelves of leatherbound books and at the desk, in black flowing
robes and mortarboard was a large woman; the Headmistress.  Her
face was stern and dark flecks of hair peeked out from beneath
the mortarboard; she held her hands in front of her on the desk
and then she stood up and addressed me:  "You don't know how sad
it makes me to have to deal with children like you.  I endeavour,
for my entire life, to educate children and to give them a start
in life but every once in a while a child comes my way who re-
fuses to learn; who rejects everything the teachers have to
offer.  I, however, have something more to offer than the teach-
ers.  The last resort.  It is with regret that I find us here
today under such circumstances and it is also with regret that I
have to exercise this last resort.  I am going to have to teach
you something so that at least you won't leave this school with-
out having learnt anything at all; I am going to teach you man-
ners, respect and above all I am going to teach you to remember
this day for the rest of your life.  It's usually at this point
that I should say 'this is going to hurt me more than it hurts
you' but in this case I believe that would be a falsehood since
I'm going to hurt you very much; I'm going to thrash you so hard
you won't be able to sit down for a week.  Before I begin the
lesson do you have anything to say for yourself?"

"No."

"NO WHAT!" the Headmistress bellowed.

"No miss."

"Alright, you shall bend across the desk and grasp the far end
and you shall not move until you are granted permission.  You are
to thank me for every single stroke you receive and when I have
finished the lesson you are to request that, should you stray
again, I should reiterate the lesson for you.  Is that clear?
Yes?  Then bend over."

I approached the desk, shaking now as I realized that this woman
was serious about her intent to punish me.  Of course, that's why
I was here but it was only until the actual moment that I really
believed that it could happen.  I lay my torso across the desk
and held on to the far edges, my buttocks felt exposed and the
material stretched tight across them offering very little protec-
tion.  I saw the Headmistress open a small cupboard in the corner
of the room then return with a long, pale, crook handled cane in
her hands.  She wielded it and swung it through the air once
making a loud swishing noise that sent shivers down my spine then
walked behind me and I felt the cane rest gently across my back-
side.

"I am going to give you 30 strokes initially," the Headmistress
said "then I shall have you expose your behind and I shall com-
plete the caning on your bare flesh.  I shall not put a figure to
the total number of strokes since I do not wish to find I'm
ending the punishment prematurely."

The cane tapped across my backside a few times then left it for
several seconds.  I knew what was coming and I tensed.  Nothing.
I relaxed again for a second and in that second a terrible swish
followed by a terrific crack filled the air and then my world
fell apart.  A streak of pain leapt across my rear and I held on
to the desk for dear life.

"Thank you miss," I muttered between clenched teeth

Again the cane rose and fell and again I uttered my thanks.  I
could hear the Headmistress grunt with exertion as he beat me
furiously again and again.  Then the caning stopped.  I waited in
permission, my backside blazing with pain that coursed down 30
raised and tender weals.

"Remove your trousers," whispered the Headmistress in a barely
audible yet determined voice.  I paused.  "I said remove them."
Again, I hesitated; the pain was so bad from the caning I had
just received and I knew that the bare bottom caning was the main
event; what I had just experienced was simply a prelude to what
was to be a true thrashing.

"REMOVE YOUR TROUSERS OR SO HELP ME I'LL BEAT THEM OFF OF YOU!"
yelled the Headmistress and in anger she bought the cane crashing
down across my rear again.  I yelled out and jumped up, tearing
my trousers and undergarments off as fast as I could.  I then lay
back in position, trembling with fear at what was to come.  Some
minutes passed and then I felt that familiar tapping again.  "You
needn't thank me for the strokes you are about to receive; you
will need all your breath for your screams," said the Head as she
raised the cane and with all her might slammed it down again
across my flesh, She was right; I yelled out in agony and the
second stroke fell in synchrony with my cries from the first.
Again and again the rod rose and fell and my cries reduced to
sobs and tears coursed down my face and into a pool that gathered
then trickled off the edge of the desk.  She didn't let up.  The
room echoed with three sounds all interlinked; the stinted grunts
of exertion, the explosive shots of the cane and my anguished
sobs and cries.  I don't know how long this lasted.  All I remem-
ber is that it did eventually stop and I lay across that desk in
silence, my voice hoarse and my eyes puffed and stinging with
tears.  My rear burnt and throbbed with a kind of numbness and
the Headmistress sat in a chair on the other side of the room.  I
waited and as I did I regained more feeling in my backside.  This
was no good thing since the pain came ebbing back slowly but
surely.  I clasped my hands behind me and grasped my backside
tenderly.  With this the Head approached me again and said stern-
ly "You have not been granted permission to move.  However, you
are in no state to receive any more punishment for the time
being.  Instead you will report to me every day for the next week
at this same time and I shall refresh your punishment with 12
strokes of the cane over your existing wounds.  This will teach
you respect and manners.  Now, in your own time you may rise and
replace your clothing then leave."

I stood slowly and with every movement my rear shrieked out
another agony.  I pulled my trousers up and flinched in pain;
mere contact with that beaten flesh was agony.  After some delib-
eration I managed to stretch my trousers on adequately then I
thanked the Headmistress and begged her to repeat the thrashing
again should I require it.  She simply said "I'll see you again
tomorrow".  I left the study with slow, stinted movements, every
step causing me pain.

I now knew what it was like to be beaten.  The Headmistress and
her cane had seen to that.  I anticipated the following day with
dread...