From Bars and Stripes, Phoebe is caned by Miss Hardacre.
“Morning!” Emily trilled brightly, standing framed in the doorway.
“Oh Gawd it can’t be,” Phoebe complained, sitting up and rubbing sleep from her eyes.
Gail had gone through things like this at some corporate retreats. One bright spark in management had thought a military boot camp style week would be a good team bonding exercise. Apparently being told that you could sleep until eight, but then being woken at five and made go on a two mile jog was all part of the fun, so as soon as Emily’s morning greeting hit the air she was rolling out of bed and heading for the showers.
“Someone knows how to obey orders,” Emily observed as Gail went past her with a towel. “You could follow her example,” she told Phoebe, planting a smack on the petite blonde’s derriere to speed her on her way.
Not particularly fortified by a breakfast of porridge, cold toast and weak tepid coffee, Gail sat nervously in the headmistresses outer office, under the eagle eyed supervision of the mannish Mrs Gainsville, who was Elspeth Hardacre’s personal assistant and secretary when school was in at Wellborne.
Gail’s mood was not helped by the sounds emanating from the headmistresses study. The loud thwack of the cane connecting solidly with Phoebe’s bent over bottom and the girl’s answering howls. Gail jumped each time she heard the whistling length of wood impact and winced as Phoebe wailed her displeasure with it.
“You won’t be getting that, dear,” Mrs Gainsville told Gail, seeing the woman’s reaction.
“Oh no, not unless you do something to deserve it, even then it will probably only be a smackbottom. Yours is just an introductory interview. Young Miss Smythe-Jones was a very naughty girl, light fingers, you know. She’s lucky it’s only the cane, I would have birched her if it were up to me.“
Gail looked at the woman incredulously and shuddered.
The door to the office opened and Phoebe stumbled out. The pretty little blonde’s eyes were red rimmed and swollen, she had obviously been crying, and her hands were clasped over the seat of her school dress.
“Oh Smythe-Jones,” a soft, cultured but firm voice said from the room’s interior, and a hand emerged, dangling a Wellborne blazer from it. “You don’t want to forget this young lady. If you arrive at assembly incompletely attired one of the prefects will be forced to add a few swipes with the slipper to those cane stripes I’ve so carefully placed on your rump.”
“Thank you Miss Hardacre,” Phoebe mumbled, accepting the blazer, she was about to hurry from the room, when Mrs Gainsville stopped her.
“You’re forgetting something young lady,” she said sharply, holding out a large book.
Phoebe’s outward rush halted and she stared at the book.
“The Punishment Ledger,” Mrs Gainsville told the freshly caned girl. “You need to sign it.”
Phoebe took the pen the woman was offering her, and scrawled her signature in the ledger, muttering something that sounded like, “I hope you choke on it!”
“You can go in, dear,” the older woman told Gail as Phoebe walked stiffly from the room, still shrugging her blazer on.
Gail went hesitantly into the office, mindful of the violence that had recently visited on her new friend. She looked around her. The office was very old fashioned. Bookcase lined walls, a large window that overlooked Wellborne’s playing fields. Miss Hardacre’s desk dominated the room. It was a large heavy affair made of a highly polished dark wood. A crook handled cane lay across it, and the sight of it made Gail shiver involuntarily. In her mind’s eye she could see Phoebe’s small, firm round bottom bent over the desk with the cane whistling through the air to add another vivid red stripe to the collection that already adorned that pretty bare posterior.
Elspeth Hardacre, a tall handsome woman, dressed severely and soberly, her luxurious mane of long white hair framing her strong face, swept around the desk, collected the cane and stowed it in a cupboard on one wall. Gail didn’t get a good look before the woman shut the door, but what she glimpsed was an entire array of the implements. She fervently prayed she wouldn’t do anything to land her here in the same position as poor Phoebe.
The headmistress looked the blonde career woman up and down and said, “The uniform fits well and suits you. As you couldn’t do a proper fitting I was concerned.”
She sat behind the desk and continued to hold Gail’s gaze. The woman was very compelling and more than a little frightening.
“Please sit,” she invited Gail, gesturing at a chair in front of her desk.
With a sigh of relief Gail sank into the offered seat. She really had been concerned that she was going to be spanked for arriving at the school later than everyone else, especially after how Phoebe was dealt with concerning an incident that happened before she was even enrolled as a Wellborne student.
The headmistress was studying a document in front of her that Gail recognised with a shock as being her application to enroll.
“You’ve done well Miss Hetherington,” Elspeth Hardacre complimented her new pupil.
“Thank you ma’am. It’s Mrs actually.”
“I beg your pardon?” the severe headmistress asked, her piercing blue eyes fixing Gail.
“Ummm…Hetherington is my married name, ma’am. I’m a Mrs, not a Miss,” Gail clarified.
“Did you actually read ANY of the literature we sent you, young lady?” Miss Hardacre asked sternly.
“Ssome of it,” Gail stammered. “I…was working on a big project for work, and ttime was at a premium…ma’am.”
Miss Hardacre sighed, “I don’t like excuses, my girl. If you HAD read the booklet you would know that all students are referred to as Miss, not Mrs regardless of marital status. I also do not appreciate being corrected by a student, do you understand me, MISS Hetherington?”
“Yes ma’am,” Gail gulped, looking down at the tops of her shiny black leather school shoes. This was very different to the last time she had been in a headmistress’ office. That had been in her final year of school and she’d been there to receive an award for academic excellence. This time she was essentially being told off.
“In addition to any after class work your teachers may set for you Miss Hetherington I am giving you some homework. You will read the Wellborne brochure cover to cover and I will test you tomorrow. I would advise you to study hard, because I guarantee that you will not like my response to errors.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Gail nodded, hoping she had actually remembered to pack the literature. She had intended to look through it on the train on the journey here, but she had gotten caught up in responding to last minute emails from work regarding the project she was managing.
“I’m hoping you will be a good influence on Miss Smythe-Jones and Miss Masters minor. Miss Smythe-Jones needs an older role model and the younger Miss Masters shows promise, but could also do with someone to look up to. You’ll be a good ‘big sister’ for both girls.”
Gail liked the idea of that. She had always tried to fill that role for the new girls at school. It was one of the reasons she had been made a prefect, it was also why she’d turned down the position of head girl when it had been offered to her. In her experience the younger students tended to be a bit overawed by the head girl and it made it that much harder to connect with them. Prefects commanded respect, but the girls still felt they could be friends with them.
“I’m afraid that due to your late arrival,” Miss Hardacre said ominously and Gail tensed. Was this when she’d be asked to bend over the desk, have her skirt lifted and panties lowered for a taste of one of the canes in the cupboard? “You’ll have to miss your first lesson.”
“My first lesson, ma’am? May I ask why?”
“I do understand you’re eager to start classes,” the white haired woman smiled thinly. “However we need to let Matron have a look at you. You appear to be in good health, but all the girls have to be looked over by Matron just to make sure. She’s expecting you after assembly. Speaking of if we don’t leave immediately we’re going to be late for, and I can’t have that, can I? Wouldn’t do to be tardy for the opening assembly. Welcome to Wellborne Miss Hetherington. I am sure you’re going to be a credit to the school.”
Feeling rather numb Gail took the offered hand and shook it loosely. Why on earth did the school’s Matron have to look her over. She had never had this happen before. Even in her first year the school accepted that she was a healthy girl and the only time she saw Matron was if she was actually sick. Gail had also visited her doctor as a precaution prior to coming to Wellborne and been given a clean bill of health. This seemed like a bit of overkill to her, but she didn’t dare say so to Miss Hardacre.
Gail made assembly with minutes to spare. The prefect on door duty at the hall, wagged her finger sternly at the blonde executive and she felt her bottom tingle at the look and the wagging finger.
During assembly Gail got the chance to see some of the other student body. The ages seemed to range from early 20’s to early 50’s. Phoebe was one of the youngest and Gail could swear one of the ladies was old enough to be her mother. Despite their ages all the women were in school uniform and Gail was taken right back to her own much missed school days. As Mrs Hardacre addressed them she fondly remembered all the assemblies she had attended and reflected on how much this was like one of them. This was the sort of feeling she had been looking for when she enrolled at Wellborne.
“Where are you going?” Annabelle asked as Gail peeled off towards the infirmary on the way out.
“I have to see Matron,” Gail answered.
Phoebe made a face and Annabelle’s face lost a shade of colour before she said cheerfully, “Good luck.”
As Gail made her way to the infirmary she pondered her roommate’s last words to her. What did good luck mean? Why did a trip to the Matron need her wished good luck?
Gail knocked quickly and nervously on the door marked Matron and heard an older voice answer, “Yes, enter.”
Gail opened the door and entered quickly, closing it quietly behind her.
The matron looked up from her desk. Gail could see an older lady, probably in her mid 50’s, soft grey hair done in an old fashioned style, she was sturdy, but not fat, and the badge pinned to her starched white uniform said Matron Sterncastle.
Gail held out the slip of paper and stammered, “Mrs Hardacre said I was to see you, ma’am.”
Matron Sterncastle took the paper and glanced at it. “Oh yes, of course you’re the Hetherington girl.”
Gail didn’t really like being referred to as ‘the Hetherington girl’, but she had asked for the complete school experience and this no nonsense nurse was very much that.
“Well, we don’t have too long, young lady, you’re already missing class,” the nurse said brusquely. “Strip and hop up on the bed.”
“I beg your pardon?” a shocked Gail asked.
“Down to your bra and knickers, please girl.”
Gail felt like protesting, but one look at the Matron’s unsmiling face told her that would not be a wise course of action, so she quickly removed her dress, and hung it up, then slipped off her shoes and stockings.
The Matron looked her up and down and said, “At least you’re wearing sensible underthings. Regulation. I had a girl in here yesterday who was wearing a racy scarlet ensemble. She wasn’t laughing when I turned her bottom the same colour as those entirely unsuitable panties she had on.”
Gail felt her face heating up and was glad that she had her back to the woman as she was getting onto the bed.
Matron Sterncastle checked Gail’s reflexes and breathing, she got her to say ahhh and looked into her mouth using a tongue depressor, she also looked into the woman’s ears. Nothing really bothered Gail until the order to, “Bend over and lower your knickers, please Gail.”
Gail could not quite believe what she was hearing. “Ummm…my panties, ma’am. Why?”
The nurse’s brows drew together in a frown. “I do not have to explain myself to you, young lady. I can see you’re used to a much laxer discipline than we have here at Wellborne if you’re cheeking me already.”
‘Cheeking?’ Gail thought. How could asking a totally innocent question when being asked to do something daft be considered cheeking?
“If you must know curious little girl,” the Matron continued. “It is so that I can take your temperature.”
‘Oh she could not possibly mean that!’ Gail thought in alarm. She had not had her temperature taken like that since she was a child and she had thought it was embarrassing even then. “Ma’am, I’m quite well,” she started. “I had a check up before…”
The nurse’s harsh voice cut across her protests, “I never heard the like! I will decide who is and who isn’t well, young lady!”
Gail’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water.
“Now you can do as you are told, and I can take that temperature between a pair of cool white cheeks, or you can keep arguing and I can take it between a set of hot rosy ones. The decision is entirely yours, miss. I’m going to take your temperature either way and I am going to do it the proper old fashioned way.”
Gail looked at the broad starched lap and at the woman’s hard hand, which was also quite wide. There was also a little wooden paddle on her desk. Last night and this morning had let her know exactly what use that paddle would be put to, if it were to be used at all. She could see Phoebe’s tear stained face in her mind. She gulped, turned her back to Matron Sterncastle, bent over the bed and slowly pulled her underpants down over her bottom and halfway down her legs.
“That’s a clever girl,” the matron cooed.
Gail could hear the woman bustling about behind her and then she heard Matron Sterncastle say gently, “Spread your cheeks a little please dear, so we can pop Mr Thermometer in there.”
Blushing at the baby talk, Gail opened her legs and felt her buttocks open. She gasped as she felt the cold lubricated bulb of the thermometer enter her rectum. “Don’t clench,” the nurse cautioned. “Just hold it there until I get a reading.”
Her cheeks flaming, and desperately hoping no one would enter, Gail stood there, the thermometer dangling from her bare backside. “I had to spank that silly roommate of yours,” Matron Sterncastle said casually.
“Phoebe?” Gail asked, it could not have been Annabelle.
“Miss Smythe-Jones,” the Matron said using Phoebe’s surname.
Phoebe is really racking up the spankings, Gail thought as the Matron removed the thermometer, took a reading and then told Gail that she could pull her panties back up and dress again.
After the intensely embarrassing physical examination the rest of the day passed in a blur for Gail. It was filled with classes, getting to know classmates, teachers, the layout of the school and trying to put herself back into the groove of being an eager student keen to learn. Then there were the rules. Gail supposed that her old school had had as many rules as Wellborne and she’d simply forgotten them, but she doubted it. The other thing that was different was how infractions, ANY infraction, of the rules was dealt with. It seemed that no slip-ups were tolerated and the prefects were on the spot with their slippers to ensure that this was the case.
Those slippers were given a work out on that first day, it seemed that they were cracking across tender buttocks and thighs every minute of the day. The prefects, and Emily as head girl, all had their own personal slippers, which they carried with them at all times, and they were not afraid to use them. Emily was particularly quick with hers. There was one older prefect called Marie, she was in fact a grandmother with grandchildren who were already at a boarding school. Gail liked her, in fact most of the other students did, she was rather like a mother figure to many of them, she spanked about as often as the other prefects, but she generally accompanied it with some sensible advice about how to avoid a similar punishment in the future and a cuddle with some kind words. She used her hand more often than the slipper too.