Mrs. Patterson's Punishment

When Mrs. Patterson entered the Punishment Room she could see that her male colleagues were comfortably seated, and waiting with pleasant anticipation. She also noticed a student from one of her classes named Julie, standing mutely next to the flogging block holding a bowl, with a towel draped over her right forearm. She was also stark naked. Her small, perky breasts had prominent, protruding nipples. The slit on her vulva was partially concealed by a small tuft of black pubic hair.

Mrs. Patterson guessed that the girl had already been punished for a severity two level offense. At the Clairmont School For Girls there are four levels of offense. A level one offense is something like talking out of turn in class, whispering during daily chapel services, or getting a failing grade on a test or assignment. A level two offense might be tardiness, the use of obscene or profane language, what is considered to be insolent, or sexually provocative behavior, or failing an entire course. A level three offense could be cheating, bullying, or sexual activity short of intercourse. A level four offense is loss of virginity.

Only virgins are admitted to the Clairmont School For Girls. The Headmaster verifies this quality in the first step of the admission policy. The applicant is told to remove her panties and to lie on a cushioned platform built especially for this purpose. Under the watchful eyes of the girl’s parents, the Headmaster lifts up the girl’s dress, and tells the girl to spread her thighs. Then he separates the lips of her vulva and labia with his fingers, and sees if she has an intact maidenhead. If she does not, the admission process is over. Fortunately, most of the applicants are virgins. At this point, the school photographer takes several photographs of the intact maidenhead for the school records. The photographer is the envy of his friends, and acknowledges that this is the most enjoyable part of his job. The Headmaster periodically retests the girls, once they are admitted, in the presence of the school chaplain and one of the school nurses.

Punishment for the first three levels of offense is carried out in the comparative privacy of the Punishment Room. For a severity one level offense, the offender is required to remove her panties, and to lie on the headmaster’s lap. He lifts up her dress and spanks her twenty times with his bare hand in the presence of a school nurse. For a severity two level offense, the offender is required to remove all of her clothes, and to lie on the headmaster’s lap. He then spanks her thirty times with his paddle in the presence of a school nurse. For a severity three level offense, the offender is required to remove all of her clothes, and kneel at the flogging block. Her wrists are locked to two poles sticking out of the floor. In the presence of the male faculty members, the chaplain, and a school nurse the offender is then caned forty times with a narrow, flexible, four foot long wooden cane. At one time failing a course was a level three offense, but this gave the male teachers an incentive to fail their more attractive students.

Severity four level offenses are punished in the assembly room in front of the entire student body, the faculty, the custodial staff, and the girl’s parents. The offender, of course, is completely naked, and tied down. Fifty strokes of the rod are delivered. Then the girl is expelled from the Clairmont School For Girls. The reason is clearly explained. It goes into the girl’s permanent record.

The Headmaster usually enjoys administering corporeal punishment, and admits to friends it is his second most pleasant professional duty after verifying the girls’ virginity. Nevertheless, he dislikes the need to punish a girl for a severity four level offense. The Headmaster is like a father to the students at the Clairmont School For Girls. Like a good father, he wants his girls to remain virgins. He enjoys being surrounded by their beautiful and innocent pulchritude on a daily basis. Fortunately, level four offenses rarely occur. This is because the girls benefit from a very protective environment.

The present Headmaster has served at his position for six years, after teaching at the Clairmont School For Girls for two decades. The previous Headmaster had been found guilty of seducing a girl at the school. She was punished for a severity four level offense. He was fired. His reputation and career were ruined. Shortly after leaving the school in disgrace he was murdered. The case has never been solved.

Because the Clairmont School For Girls has an excellent academic reputation, and because parents know it is a place where their daughters will not be tainted, competition to get into the Clairmont School For Girls is very keen. Out of ten applicants, only one is admitted into the school, even though the Headmaster has examined the other nine.

The catalogue for the Clairmont School For Girls begins with: “The Clairmont School For Girls is an exclusive girls’ finishing school with an excellent academic reputation. At the Clairmont School For Girls innocent young girls become scholarly young women. The Clairmont School For Girls has a deeply religious atmosphere and a high moral tone that is preserved by strict discipline. At the Clairmont School For Girls we believe that the old ways are the best ways.”

Nearly all of the faculty members at the Clairmont School For Girls are women. These are subject to the same regulations, and punishments as the students. For the male faculty members the regulations are more lenient, although they are not permitted to become sexually involved with any of the girls. The example of the previous headmaster is sufficient to keep them from being lead into temptation. Nevertheless, they are compensated with the privilege of witnessing punishments for severity three level offenses.

It was ten thirty, Saturday morning. Mrs. Patterson was reporting to the Punishment Room to receive correction for a severity three level offense. No, her offense was not sexual. Mrs. Patterson was very proper, very married, and would never think of such a thing. Although Mrs. Patterson had never been called up for punishment before, she knew the procedure. First, she was to remove her clothes and put them in a closet built for that purpose. Then she was to stand in front of her friends and colleagues and explain why it was necessary that she be punished.

When Mrs. Patterson stepped into the Punishment Room she noticed that one of the faculty members, Mr. Evans, was recording her entry with a camcorder. “Is that really necessary?” she asked the Headmaster.

“Mrs. Patterson,” the Headmaster began, “I have always believed that punishment is more effective when it combines pain with humiliation. That is why your male colleagues are here assembled. When I told Mr. Davis last Tuesday that you were going to be punished for a severity three offense today he enthusiastically canceled plans to take a short vacation this weekend. He said that this would be quite a bit more enjoyable, and that he has waited for this ever since you began teaching here. I intend for quite a few people to watch the recording of this. I am sure the custodial staff will enjoy it. Quite a few people at my county club have already voiced an interest. If the reception is really positive, I might even post this on the internet.

Mrs. Patterson took a slow, deep breath that said, “There is nothing that can be done.” Then she walked over to the closet, and hesitantly removed her clothes. When she stood in front of her friends and colleagues she kept her hands in front of her husband’s private reserve.

“No one is going to rape you, Mrs. Patterson,” the Headmaster said sternly. Put your hands by your side.” Resigned to endure whatever she had to, Mrs. Patterson moved her hands to her hips, revealing her beautiful, smoothly shaven vulva.

Mr. Evans whistled. “I think I’m going to ask my wife to start shaving,” he said.

Mrs. Patterson was a shapely, pretty woman in her thirties. Her breasts were full and firm. Her nipples were the same delightful shade of pink as her lips. Her belly was soft, but flat. The loveliness of her genital region has already been described. Her hips were well rounded. She had slender, athletic thighs. “Mrs. Patterson,” the Headmaster began sternly, “Explain to the teachers, the chaplain, and the nurse why it is necessary that you be punished today.”

Mrs. Patterson stood naked before the ogling eyes of the men and the lens of the camcorder, and said with quiet dignity: “Last Tuesday morning I learned that my son had been in an automobile accident, and was in the hospital. I was too distraught to think clearly, and left immediately to see how he was.”

“Mrs. Patterson,” the Headmaster began. “If you had told me about your son’s problem it would have delayed you by only a few minutes. I would have substituted for you myself if necessary. By leaving your students without supervision, you let them down. What you did caused me and the rest of the school a great deal of trouble.”

“I’m aware of that, Headmaster,” Mrs. Patterson said with a subdued tone of voice. “I am grateful that you have not fired me.”

“I have no intention of firing you, Mrs. Patterson,” the Headmaster replied, reassuringly. “You are an excellent teacher. Everyone likes you. Nevertheless, you must be punished in this way. You agree, don’t you?”

“Yes, I certainly do.”

“At first I thought of this as a severity two level offense. Then I decided that in order for you to receive the most benefit from this process, it would be necessary for your punishment to be more painful and humiliating. Besides, I wanted to give your colleagues and me a real treat. This will be painful for you, Mrs. Patterson. We will enjoy it immensely.”

“I’m glad you will enjoy it.”

“That is why I told Julie to come here this morning to receive punishment for a severity two level offence. Her offense was committed Wednesday when she behaved in ways that Mr. Evans considered to be sexually provocative. Mr. Evans suggested that instead of punishing her that afternoon it would be a better idea to paddle her this morning as an agreeable preliminary for the main event, which is to be your caning. I enthusiastically agreed. Your friends and colleagues have already enjoyed watching a naked, fifteen year old virgin receive what you may be certain was a very severe paddling. Go and get my rod.”

When Mrs. Patterson walked over to the shelf to pick up the rod, Mr. Davis said, “She looks good from behind, too. I sure am glad that I cancelled my travel plans.”

Mrs. Patterson walked back to the Headmaster, kissed the rod, according to the procedure, and handed it to him. “Thank you,” the Headmaster said. “Now walk over to the flogging block, so I can fasten the handcuffs. The flogging block had two steps, and was placed in front of two poles that jutted up from the floor. Each pole had a handcuff attached to it. Mrs. Patterson kneeled on the flogging block, pushing her beautiful bottom in the direction of the seated men, and grabbing each of the poles.

After laying the rod on an empty chair, the Headmaster walked over to the flogging block, adjusted the position of Mrs. Patterson’s hands, and locked each of them in the handcuffs. He paused for a moment, running his right hand over the smooth skin of her bottom. “You certainly do have a beautiful backside, Mrs. Patterson. I hope your husband took time to admire it this morning, because it will not look this good for awhile.”

“Thank you, Headmaster, he did,” Mrs. Patterson said, meekly.

“What you are about to experience will be the most painful event in your life,” the Headmaster warned. “But I won’t leave scars. I never do. It would be a sin to disfigure something as beautiful as this,” he said giving the right cheek of her backside an affectionate pat.

The Headmaster picked up his rod, positioned himself to begin the caning, and gently stroked the rod up and down Mrs. Patterson’s bottom, knowing that the anticipation would make her even more fearful.

“Look out, Mrs. Patterson, it’s coming,” Mr. Evans taunted. “You won’t get off this time.”

“You may think you’re brave,” Mr. Davis added, “but the first stroke will make you writhe!”

The Headmaster made a long, hard circular motion with the rod. It whistled through the air, and landed firmly on Mrs. Patterson’s beautiful, naked bottom with a loud smack. “Oh!” she cried in pain.

“That certainly got her attention,” Mr. Evans chuckled. “You’ve only got thirty-nine more to go, Mrs. Patterson. Don’t spare her, sir,” he encouraged the Headmaster, “Let her know who is master.”

Smack! The rod spoke again. “Well hit, sir,” Mr. Davis said. “Put power into it!”

The Headmaster delivered his strokes slowly, deliberately, and powerfully, making them as painful as he could. He was enjoying himself enormously, and wanted this to last as long as possible. He knew that the anticipation of a stroke was often as painful as the stroke itself. Smack! Long pause. Smack! Long pause. Smack!

“Please, Headmaster,” Mrs. Patterson pleaded, “I can’t bear this.”

“Oh, but you will bear this, Mrs. Patterson. I am just warming up. The hardest strokes are yet to come!” Smack!

“Notice how each time he strikes her, she shakes her bottom,” Mr. Evans told the other men, “It’s like she’s trying to shake off the pain. But it doesn’t work, does it Mrs. Patterson?”

Mrs. Patterson resolved not to say anything more, and bear her pain in silence. The only sound was the impact of the punishing rod, striking again and again.

Mr. Evans, holding the camcorder, walked in front of Mrs. Patterson, in order to photograph her face and breasts. “Every time she gets hit her breasts shake in the most delightful manner,” he told the other men. “She is trying not to cry, but tears are streaming down her eyes! I am sure glad I brought this camcorder.”

“You bet,” Mr. Davis said. That was a capital idea.”

After delivering twenty strokes, the Headmaster stopped. Mrs. Patterson hoped that he had decided to end her caning, but the worst was yet to come. The Headmaster was breathing deeply, and rubbing his right arm. “I might be getting a little old for this,” he complained, although the look of enjoyment and satisfaction on his face belied his words. “I have already given twenty strokes of the rod to Mrs. Patterson’s beautiful, bare, derriere. All of us like Mrs. Patterson,” he said with the kindly, paternalistic tone of voice he was known for. “Each of us wants her to benefit as much as possible from this disciplinary session. It is very important that she learns to obey. There are three teachers here and the chaplain. I would like for each of you gentlemen to help by contributing five strokes each. Make the strokes painful. Mrs. Patterson will not benefit from leniency, I assure you. In order to encourage you, I propose a contest. The man who makes her cry the most will get a free lunch at the Franklin Ale House.”

“That’s an excellent idea, Headmaster,” Mr. Richardson said, rising from his chair. “I think I should go first. I’m her best friend here. She established a special bond with me by visiting my daughter when she was at the hospital.”

The Headmaster said, “Mrs. Patterson has gone out of her way to help each of us. She is a very sweet and wonderful woman. That is why we all want her to benefit from this experience. And that is why it is necessary for each of you to deliver five of the most powerful strokes you can.”

When the Headmaster gave Mr. Richardson the rod, he held it with appreciation, feeling its weight and balance. “Mrs. Patterson, you know this is for your own good, don’t you?” Mr. Richardson asked.

“Just get it over with,” Mrs. Patterson responded.

After Mr. Richardson delivered three hard, well-aimed strokes, Mr. Davis said, “Look. He keeps hitting the same welt. Let’s see if he can make it bleed.”

With the fifth stroke the welt became a long, bleeding cut. “Oh!” Mrs. Patterson cried in agony.

“Well done!” Mr. Davis said. “You get the first point.”

“Her caning is slightly half over,” Mr. Richardson said. As it continues it ought to become easier for you men to get a response to her. Here, Mr. Davis, you can go next.”

“Let’s see what I can do,” Mr. Davis said eagerly. Then he delivered his five strokes without a response. “So far, the score is one, zero,” he said with resignation.

Mr. Evans got up, and after giving the camcorder to Mr. Richardson, took the rod, saying, “I’m going to aim for her vagina. That should be more sensitive.” He was right. Mrs. Patterson cried three times. “The score goes up,” he said proudly before retrieving the camcorder.

Only the Chaplain was left. “I’m an avid tennis player, and collegiate shot put champion,” he said proudly. “If anyone can win this contest it should be me. Before beginning, however, I would like to say a prayer for Mrs. Patterson. All of the men looked down and closed their eyes as the Chaplain said: “We commend to thy fatherly care thy servant Mrs. Patterson. In her suffering she resembles the early Christian martyrs. We pray that she will benefit from this corrective session, and that she will daily increase in all of the qualities that make her dear to us.” When the Chaplain said, “Amen,” the other men did also.

The Chaplain took the rod, and waved it through the air. By now Mrs. Patterson’s once beautiful bottom was a mass of red welts and cuts. “You only have five more strokes to go, Mrs. Patterson. How do you feel?”

“I feel like I’m dying. Please don’t hit hard.”

"My child, I have the ability and the desire to hit you harder than anyone else. The Headmaster told us you will not benefit from leniency, and I certainly agree. I only wish I could give you twenty strokes!”

The Chaplain swung the rod several times like a baseball player to warm up. Then the rod whistled through the air, making the loudest smack yet. “Please!” Mrs. Patterson cried in pain.

“One for the Chaplain!” the Headmaster said with approval.

There was another loud smack. “Please have mercy!” Mrs. Patterson cried.

“Two for the Chaplain!”

“I am merciful,” Mrs. Patterson,” the chaplain said with a comforting tone of voice. “I am also just. You have three more strokes to go. I intend to enjoy them.”

There was another loud smack, followed by another cry, and the encouragement of “Three for the Chaplain!”

“I’m already tied with Mr. Evans,” the chaplain said proudly, “Let’s see if I can win decisively.”

“Since I’ve already lost,” Mr. Davis said, “I’m cheering for you, Chaplain. Make the last two strokes count.”

The Chaplain waited for two minutes, watching Mrs. Patterson become more fearful. Then the rod whistled through the air, making the hardest impact of the entire flogging session. “Stop, please!” Mrs. Patterson pleaded.

“Well hit, Chaplain,” Mr. Davis said with excitement.

“Four for the Chaplain!” the Headmaster added.

“One more stroke, Chaplain,” Mr. Davis encouraged. “Let’s see if you can make it five.”

The Chaplain winked and smiled at the men before delivering a truly explosive stroke. “I’m dying!” Mrs. Patterson cried.

“Well hit again! Did you see the blood spin?” chortled Mr. Davis.

“Five for the Chaplain.”

There was a loud round of applause. The Headmaster said, “Well done, Chaplain. Never before has a free lunch been so well earned.”

“I only wish I had more strokes,” the Chaplain told the Headmaster. “This is even more enjoyable than watching you verify the girls’ virginity.”

“We enjoyed it with you,” the Headmaster said. “You did a truly excellent job. I’m certainly glad all of this was recorded by the camcorder. I can’t wait to show this at the country club.” When the Headmaster walked over to Mrs. Patterson, she cringed, as though expecting to be hit again. “It’s over Mrs. Patterson. You gave each of us a very enjoyable Saturday morning. We’re going to the Franklin Ale House to talk about it, although we will be talking about this for a long time, and watching it again on tape. I think it would be a good idea for prospective male teachers to watch the tape over a few drinks. It will let them know what they have to look forward to.”

Turning to the men, the Headmaster said, “The drinks are on me, although everyone but the Chaplain will have to pay for his lunch.”

“Splendid sir,” Mr. Davis said.

The Headmaster turned again to Mrs. Patterson, and dipped his hand into the bowel that was held by Julie. “This is Bactine, Mrs. Patterson” he said, with a soothing, fatherly tone of voice. “It will not only prevent infection, it will reduce the pain.” After rubbing the medicine on Mrs. Patterson’s bleeding and swollen backside, the Headmaster asked, “Does this feel better, Mrs. Patterson?”

“Yes, it does, Headmaster,” Mrs. Patterson said, “Thank you so much.”

“We would like to invite you to go to the Franklin Ale House with us, but it will be awhile before you feel comfortable sitting down again. You need to go to the infirmary to begin the healing process. There will be no scars. There never are.”

“I’m so glad,” Mrs. Patterson said.

After wiping his hands with the towel held by Julie, and releasing Mrs. Patterson’s wrists from the handcuffs, the Headmaster held her gently, pressing her breasts into his chest. Mrs. Patterson began to weep loudly. “This hurts so much, and I am so embarrassed.”

“You did very well. All of us are proud of you,” the Headmaster said, kissing her on the cheek. Then he lead her by the hand to where the men were sitting, making sure that the camcorder captured her beautiful, naked body, and her tear streaked face completely. “The Chaplain gave this event a perfect ending, but I think this is the real star of the show. Mrs. Patterson took her punishment bravely, after agreeing that it was necessary that she be punished like this. She also gave each of a great deal of pleasure. She hurts now, but years from now I’m sure that she will look back on this, and be glad it happened.”

“You helped, sir, by letting each of us deliver five strokes,” Mr. Richardson said.

“I think all of us have done our parts in making this an event to remember,” the Headmaster said. “I would like to add that earlier this morning I called the hospital where Mrs. Patterson’s son is. He is making an excellent recovery, and will be home before Mrs. Patterson gets out of the infirmary. I’m sure that’s a relief to each of us. Now let’s go to the Franklin Ale House for a real celebration.”

THE END