The New Superintendent

Kinda Continued from The New Headmaster

Superintendent Madeline Jones stepped out of the cool shower and grabbed the thick towel that that Marla had set out on her dressing table.. She patted at the goosebumps up and down her arms and across her chest. Then, working quickly, her shoulders, back and backside finally her long legs. She would probably need another shower before going into the office. Forty five minutes on the elliptical worked up too much of a sweat to be stanched with one shower. Plus, she had left Marla to her own devices since her arrival this morning and she was no doubt feeling ignored. Never mind that she was technically on the clock and getting paid for doing her job in the Superintendent’s home office, but when she calls the night before to alert Madeline that she was “backed up” and would need to come to the residence in the morning to “catch up”, there was no need to read between the lines. 

Madeline picked the short green silken robe that Marla favored and fastened it loosely with the attached belt then hung the damp towel around her neck to catch the water still dripping from her long black hair. Stepping into the hall she immediately heard the tap-tap-tapping of her laptop coming from the office beyond the bedroom door. Her living quarters were essentially the entire third floor of what once had been the Mudge Woman’s Hall where female grad students had lived. 

Now, with fewer and fewer woman opting to live on-campus most of the building was being refitted as condos. Downstairs construction noises during the day-when she was typically in her office was a small price to pay for a rent-free three bedroom on-campus apartment. 

She lingered at the open doorway to watch Marla working. Whenever she could, she stole time to watch Marla do anything. She had found her Executive Assistant  alluring when she first got to campus. Given her role and the obvious age difference, Madeline had made it her business to keep her distance from the girl to the point that she had delegated the Assistant Head Master disciplinary responsibility the first time Marla as a student had merited a caning. But only the first time. 

Marla wore the same short blonde hair that she had as a student. Parted on the left and flipped at the collarline,  tucked behind her ears. She tended to be slim-and would look eighteen well into her twenties-but carried a light contour of muscle tone that was no doubt in some emulation of her boss’ maniacal workout habits . At present she was working in her underwear, a dark sports bra and matching boy panties, while her “uniform” of khaki slacks and a light blue long sleeved oxford button-down shirt hung neatly on the back of the closet door. Long sleeves were de rigueur for Marla whose left arm was a full sleeve tattoo that ran from her shoulder down to mid forearm. Eventhough the intricate work illustrated the tale of the Buendía clan from Gabrial Garcia Marquez’ “One Hundred Years of Solitude” (Marla had one time fancied herself a World Literature aficionado) Madeline decided  at the time that her ink be concealed from the board who had approved her hiring. The other, more recent,  ink she didn’t have to work to conceal. 

Marla  definitely had Superintendent Jones in mind when she chose her second tattoo. They were not yet lovers when Marla had accepted the EA  job a few weeks after graduating. Out of what she explained to her skeptical tattoo artist was a reverence for WIlliam  Faulkner and “his” South, she had a single lush flowering kudzu vine tattooed up the back of her right thigh. With a small tic toward the middle the vine slipped into the darkness between her legs and in a last run to daylight, emerged from her lower butt crack looking like nothing so much as she was growing a purple flowering kudzu out of her butt hole. As uncomfortable as the process was, she almost couldn’t wait for her first “after-hours” meeting with her cane-happy boss. 

It didn’t take long. Less than a month into her employment with the new Superintendent, Marla had distributed a report to the board in Madeline’s name, that included incorrect cost spreadsheets that were caught in an open ZOOM meeting by the board president. He was nice enough to shrug it off once the correct spreadsheets were provided all round. Marla absorbed the blame from the board good naturedly but finished the meeting with the familiar mixed feelings of dread, embarrassment, excitement and titillation.

Being a titular adult caned by a coworker (even a superior) entailed a different dynamic than being sent to the headmaster’s office at school, where all she had to do was report, bare, bend and hang on. Marla didn’t know how it was going to happen, just that it was. She kept to her task list following a schedule with hands that intermittently  shivered and breathing that caught now and then. Her belly roiled virtually non-stop. 

Finally late in the day, the inner office door opened and Madeline stepped out. She was wearing a brightly flowered skirt that rode the top of her knees. Her sleeveless blue blouse was tucked and belted accenting her flat stomach. Marla gulped wantonly at the vision her boss presented  even before she noted the cane in her right hand. Oh, no, she thought. Not out here in my office separated from the well trafficked hallway by only a door with a pane of frosted glass. 

“Marla,” ordered Madeline using the cane as a pointer, “lock the door please and step into my office”. Relieved, Marla did as she was told and then had to slide against Madeline as her boss stayed in the doorway forcing her to squeeze by.

Marla stood facing the large desk even though Madeline stood to her left and slightly behind, delivering her lecture to the side of her neck where she could watch the fetching thump-thump of her pulse. That part of Marla’s neck was close to her favorite part of the younger woman’s body and she wondered how long it would be before she could lay her open mouth over it. The lecture itself  was almost a word-for-word repetition of what she delivered after the meeting and Marla could do nothing but wait for the end. Which finally came with a poke of the cane to her khaki-clad bottom. ‘And this,”, she said, is to acknowledge your shoddy effort and punish you for it and at the same time remind you going forward of what’s expected from you. Understand?

“Yes Ma’am”. She had always been Ma’am” when it was headmistress/student but she wasn’t sure what it would be in an office context. Since Madeline didn’t correct her, it seemed that she had chosen correctly.

“Take these down”, Madeline ordered flicking the cane at the seat of Marla’s slacks. The girl unbuckled her belt, unsnapped the button, then opened the zipper pushing them to her knees where gravity took over and pulled them into a pile around her ankles. “Oh, this is new”, she said touching the leafy vine at the back of her leg with the cane and tracing it up to where it disappeared beneath her panties. 

“Can I look?” Madeline asked.

“I wish you would.” answered Marla leaning forward, her hands on the desk. She felt Madeline’s fingers in the waistband of her panties then the scrape along her skin as she pulled them down. As Headmistress, Madeline had been very careful to follow school policy and never touch a student, skin on skin. When punished, Marla would have to remove her own underwear-nothing but cane or paddle ever touched her bottom or her legs. And she had never gone over the Headmistress’ knees; it was as if they both knew there were limits to their self-restraint. 

Madeline lay her hand on Marla’s back and pushed her lower, forcing her bottom higher as the girl’s elbows dropped to the desk and her cheek lay on the cool wood. Her mouth fell open and a small hiss escaped her lips as she felt Madeline’s fingers, opening her behind and following the vine. 

“What possessed you to…” Madeline asked as she slid a finger up the inside of Marla’s divide, then left it pressing lightly against her small puckered opening. 

“I thought you would like it”, she said, her face still on the desk. 

“You did it for me?”

“I thought it would be fun. Nobody sees my bottom more than you do.”

“Is that true?”, Madeline asked, sliding her hand to rub the girl’s smooth right cheek. “That’s a shame, this is such a beautiful little bum.”

“I love you touching it,” Marla said in almost a whisper, moving her bottom into her boss’ smoothing hand.

“I finally can”, thought Madeline, then said, “I’m afraid you’re not going to love what happens next.”

Marla had a line she had been practicing. “I’m yours’ to do with as you please.”

Madeline smiled at that, knowing she had prepared and rehearsed it. Still, it tingled her in ways words didn’t usually.

“Come on then”, she said stepping back and patting the other cheek. Let’s get this over with.”

As was expected, Marla relaxed, keeping with Madeline’s long-standing “no clenching” rule. Still, she jumped when the cane tapped her gently twice, measuring. The girl inhaled and held her breath waiting. She didn’t have to wait long, the first stroke slashed fiercely across the bottom of her bottom, bisecting the vine where it emerged from between her cheeks. The searing pain rose her onto her toes. She didn’t have time to cry out before the second stroke landed in almost the exact same place. This time she did screech and raised even higher on her toes which tightened the muscles in her bottom but no matter, Madeline slashed her again across the middle. Marla squealed and fell to the flats of her feet, her knees buckling. 

“Maddie!” She squeaked, her voice failing. “I can’t…I want to…but..”, she coughed a little sob. “It hurts so much.” with that she broke and the tears flowed. Her school canings never really Hurt, hurt. They stung but this was something different. 

Madeline placed her left hand on the small of Marla’s back in a way that was meant to be comforting. “Yes, my dear, adult caning is a little different than what you received as a student. There are real consequences in the world.” This last she delivered while sliding her fingers over the welts on her girl’s behind.  She hadn’t seen nor made her cry before and it gave her pause knowing that Marla would subject herself to anything that Madeleine deemed necessary. 

“I’m sorry”, Marla sniffed looking back over her shoulder. “I was just..surprised. I’m ready now. Strike me again.”

The Superintendent delivered two strokes to the middle of Marla’s bottom that were reminiscent in severity to what she had gotten as a schoolgirl. They stung but no more than that. The girl was so grateful she thrust her bottom further back, making the cheeks bloom leaving nothing unrevealed.  “Oh, thank you Ma’am!”, she said undulating a bit, her bottom waving like a sunflower in a light breeze. “A few more please.”

Madeline was conscious of turning the punishment over to the punished but cared not. She knew in her loins that this was never going to be a true punishment as soon as she laid her hands on the girl’s bottom. The hard strokes were an attempt to pull back control which she abandoned in a panic when Marla broke. Now the Superintendent delivered two more strokes atop the welts then two at the very bottom where bum and thighs met, then announced ”You’re finished”.

Marla stood bolt upright, fetchingly clutching and rubbing her striped bottom. Laying the cane aside, Madeline took the girl’s shoulders and turned her around to face her tear streaked face. “Move your hands”, she said with a smile as she reached behind to cup her bottom. Again she bumped her fingers over the wriggling welts. “I’m sorry Marla, I didn’t mean to hurt you. “

“That’s fine”, the girl answered, her arms wrapped around her boss. “Those last few were very nice.”

“We’ll get it right the next time.”

Marla pulled back a little and asked, “Well, can I have a kiss this time?” Madeline paused looking deeply into Marla’s damp hazel eyes and knew that though she had followed carefully the prohibition against relations between students and staff, the similar prohibition as related to administration and staff did not stand a chance. 

A Maiden’s Tail


Continued from Something in the air…)

When the class bell rang, Susanna Potts hung back and allowed the room to empty as Mrs. Knapp gathered her slides and materials from the last class of the afternoon. Neither an athlete, scholar nor trust fund darling, it was easy to understand Susanna being unnoticed as she dallied next to the windows. Even so, this was her third class with Mrs. Knapp and she felt familiar enough…but…

Mrs. Knapp had gathered her materials onto the side table and was sorting them when Susanna approached from behind and cleared her throat, startling her.

“Oh…Potts”, she said surprised. “Thought I was alone.”

“No ma’am. Just taking it in”, she patted the book in her hand. “Good lecture today.”

“Why thank you Miss!” Carol Knapp smiled widely and mock-curtsied. Medieval English literature was her passion and finding new ways to engage a widely varying and ever changing student body was her specialty.

“So Gawain was one for the ladies, was he?” asked Susanna.

“Beware of modern interpretations”, she answered. “He wasn’t a “hound” by any means. The code of chivalry wouldn’t allow that but he was one of the only knights not bound by a particular maiden-as Lancelot was by Guinevere let’s say. But he was The Maiden’s Knight-though bound to none made him bound to all. “

“And being ‘bound to all’ was he bound to spank them all? With his sword?”

“Hah!” laughed the professor. “Never the maidens-at least I’d doubt it. I’d assume the serving wenches were fair game though. The allusion had more to do with his ability to flawlessly handle the sword than the way he’d handle a maiden.”

“I…don’t get it. Why would it be especially difficult to swat a maiden on the bottom?”

“The key would be to do no permanent damage. The broadsword, Potts, is longer than…this,” she said, snatching a yardstick from the chalk shelf below the black board. “And heavier. And razor sharp along the edges down to the killing point.” She wielded the yardstick in front of herself and pretended to slash in slow motion. “It was probably easier to deal a killing blow than to lightly slap a straight sharp broadsword on rounded bottom.”

“Hmmm…Let’s see…” Susanna placed her books aside and turned her back to Mrs. Knapp. “Show me how he would.”

“Why Potts”, the woman stammered. “Your skirt would throw off the blow.”

“Not to worry”, said Susanna quickly with a fluttery laugh that trilled a little. She reached back and pulled up her skirt-sticking her round bottom, tightly swathed in white cotton, back toward her teacher. “I just want to see how it….might feel…”

“And this would be a new feeling for you would it Potts?”

“Yes, ma’am. Just curious…”

“Uh huh. Alright Potts”, said Mrs. Knapp with a half-smile. “Let’s see-here would be the flat of the sword” she pulled the yardstick back with her wrist and snapped it lightly across Susanna’s panties.

“I didn’t feel hardly anything!” the girl protested.

“Well, this is just an illustration of…”

“Maybe it’s the panties”, the girl said quickly and before the surprised Mrs. Knapp could utter a word she had caught her thumbs in the waistband and pushed her panties down to her knees.

“There!” she said. “As you said, bare bottom.” She clutched her skirt tightly and bent a little further.

“Alright Potts, I think I see now.”

“See what ma’am?” she smiled looking back over her shoulder eyes afire.

“Nothing girl-stand firm.” Susanna froze as Mrs. Knapp drew back the stick and let fly a moderate swat.

“Yeouch!” Susanna squealed.

“Exactly!” said Mrs. Knapp.

“Now with the edge”, Susanna fairly gasped holding her position.

“Now”, said Mrs. Knapp, drawing back her weapon, “If he wasn’t careful…”

She aimed the second swing for the spot just below the light pink shadow left by the first blow. The stick bit into the soft flesh and Susanna squealed again, standing bolt upright clapping both hands to her bottom.

“Owww! That stung.”

“Indeed. Now imagine such a blow struck by a strapping knight with a 5 pound broadsword. You think that might create an impression?”

“Wow, I’ll bet…..” Susanna drifted off in thought absently kneading her warmed bum.

“Here now”, Mrs. Knapp tapped her bottom with the stick before replacing it on chalk shelf. “Put that away now.”

Susanna moved slowly, as if underwater, pulling up her panties and smoothing her skirt. She was flushed with a thin sheen of perspiration on her forehead and upper lip. The fire in her eyes had banked but still shone brightly.

“You know Potts, I’m thinking. You might benefit from some private tutoring on Sir Gawain.

“You think so?”

“Mr. Knapp is at a conference this weekend, so I’m going to be in the office on Saturday morning. Would you want to stop by around eleven and we could continue the discussion?”

“That would be wonderful, Mrs. Knapp.”

“Yes, maybe. Reread the previous assignment and come with notes on the relationship of Gawain and women…”

Susanna picked up her books and hurried toward the door. Her voice was high and trilling again. “Yes, ma’am. I will be there at eleven sharp. Thank you!”

Yes, finding new ways to engage a widely varying and ever changing student body was definitely Carol Knapp’s specialty.

Something in the air…

It was a strange morning at the Academy. Fitting perhaps for late autumn when the harvest was in the air and the moon shone so brightly that folks were drawn to the out of doors at all hours, leaving them edgy but sleepy at the time during the day. No, “edgy” wasn’t quite the word but it was something. Wandering the halls one could feel it….

In the sophomore art class, Diana Fame sat in the back only half listening as Professor Halverson, using a slide presentation, discussed the flow and colors in Rubens’ “The Head of Medusa” that they were covering that week. Diana instead, sharp red pencil in hand, had moved forward in the text to the nudes and was carefully shading Rubens’s beautiful large bottoms with a pink glow-accenting some with darker red stripes bisecting the milky globes.

She watched Halverson with his laser pointer and wondered what he would do to her if he found her defacing his text? Maybe she should sign her name she thought lightly, feeling a rustle in her breast.

Upstairs, in the senior hallway, Mrs. Knapp continued her lectures on “Sir Gawain and the Green Knight.” Susanna Potts, from her seat near the windows was almost entirely disengaged, allowing her eyes to wander out to the fields and surrounding woods when Mrs. Knapp, to illustrate the good knight’s swordsmanship, said “He was so deft with his sword that he could spank a maiden with the flat of his blade and neither slice nor nick her naked bum.”

There were twitters around the room and Potts shot her eyes front hoping to see such a thing illustrated in the slides. Not to be though-only a cheeky aside from Mrs. Knapp. From her angle she could see Mrs. Knapp’s profile clearly and imagined what it would look like-the flat of a blade slapping across her doughy cheeks. The thought of such a swat on her own naked bottom flooded her with a warmth that she settled back to enjoy, eye dipping to half-mast.

Further down the hall…

“Ms. Smythe will see you now…”

Sepia Strokes Across my

From “Across My Lap” on Tumblr

(Sorry, this is a re-post. There was a glitch that had to be cleaned up in the first go-round).

Bethany glided along the walk toward the administration building. That’s how she felt-glideful-if there was such a word. If not, light and breezy would suffice. “Ooops, Sorry!” she said tripping out of the way of two freshman hustling to class. Glideful-not graceful. She smiled and regarded the youngsters in their rush-heads down, books clutched to their chests. She remembered that feeling-that fear of being late-of missing the last assignment. Happily that was behind her by a few years.

It was less than a month until final commencement and most of her tough work was finished properly and behind her. Most; not all. She was holding the final two assignments now-past deadline enough that she had to turn them into the Assistant Dean as these professors had left for the semester. Her bad luck. Had they still been on campus she could have pushed the papers over the transom, as they say, and not have to meet the new AD. She had an 8:30 meeting for which she was, of course, late.

Really, why had Dean Jackson, her mentor, professor and confidant through her four years chosen this month to start his sabbatical? He’d be back for commencement surely, but she wished she was facing him this morning rather than this new AD. And a woman at that. She hadn’t seen her around campus yet but had seen her posted greeting on the campus Intraweb.

She slipped through the administration building’s open door as someone else exited and took the wide marble steps to the second floor two at a time. She was pressing for time not wanting to be too late for Professor Major’s History of Agriculture class. God! What a bore-but electives count on the transcript too. She opened the frosted glass door that still read “Assistant Dean Phillip Jackson” and stepped inside the AD’s outer office.

Amy Prynne, the new AD’s new assistant, looked up from the computer screen as she entered. Amy was an Academy Alumnus who had worked at a few postings across campus-primarily over in finance. A small woman with a silver pixie cut, she seemed pleasant enough but Bethany had never had a conversation with her. “Good Morning”, Amy said cheerily. “Bethany? Right?”

“Oh-yes”, Bethany said, taken off guard a bit that Amy knew her name. She hesitantly reached her had across the desk which Amy rose to shake once. “Flowers”, she said. “Nice to meet you.”

“Of course”, Amy agreed. “And you…I’m Amy…”

“Yes…I’ve seen you around.”

“Of course. Yes.”

Amy sat again and continued to look up at her with a wide smile that came and went then came back again. “Oh”, she said. “We had you down for 8:30…”

“Yes…I’m sorry. I was running a little behind this morning. Is that OK?” A few uncomfortable seconds passed while Amy consulted the computer in front of her. “Shouldn’t be a big problem.” She nodded toward the inner door. “Someone jumped in before you…Shouldn’t be too long.”

Bethany became conscious of voices coming from the inner office. “Oh-alright. I kind of thought I might just be able to leave these with you.” She held out the two final papers each in its properly addressed envelope. “I’m running a little late, you see. For Professor…”

“Yes, History of Agriculture. Really-I had that one. How do you stay awake?” she asked conspiratorially with an almost-wink. “Just have a seat-AD Smythe will see you in a moment.” She turned her full attention back to the screen clearly dismissing her. Bethany withdrew the proffered papers and sat-dismissed-on the worn leather sofa where she had idled so much time waiting to see AD Jackson who had served as her advisor for the first two years on campus.

With a nervous look at the clock on the wall-no way she was going to make the bell for Ag Hist-she reached for the new copy of Academy Life on the coffee table to leaf through.

Suddenly the inner door opened at there stood Assistant Dean Gwen Smythe. She looked younger than she did in the posted Intraweb picture. There she was wearing a proper blazer and a prim turtle neck. Here she had on an oxford blue shirt open at the neck and what looked to be dark slacks. The door wasn’t open wide enough for her to be sure. Her shoulder length blonde hair cupped her face in the photo but here was pulled back in a loose pony tail. “Amy?” she said to her assistant before noticing Bethany on the sofa. “Oh hello-you are…?”

“This is Bethany Flowers.”, said Amy moving past her into the office.

“Oh, of course, Bethany.” Her face froze toward a greeting smile, “You’re a little late this morning.”

“Yes Ma’am…I’m sorry. I….”

“No matter”, the AD waved at her. She appeared ready to say something else but then settled for “I’ll be with you in a moment….” As the door closed Bethany saw another girl standing in the office. She was facing away so she couldn’t tell who it was-just a flash of tartan and a white shirt. The informal, formal uniform. Had to be a freshman.

She sunk back into the leather cushions. Something was off, she thought.  She was expecting a little “run-by-drop-off” informality but she was on everyone’s schedule it appeared. Had she been? Did she really set a time when she called? And not only on everyone’s schedule but late by everyone’s schedule. A few butterflies flittered about in her belly as a cool shadow inexplicitly fell over what had been an unseasonably and perhaps unreasonably pleasant morning.

She looked at the clock nervously then back to the magazine in her hand. She began to flip the pages when she heard it-quick and distinctive-from the inner office.

“Crack!” The sound startled her so that she dropped the magazine to the floor. “Crack!” came the second lick.

Oh dear God! She thought, jumping up. The butterflies doubled in number and size-flying through her chest now. Bethany had never been spanked at school. Not once in her four years at The Academy. She didn’t think that was so unusual. She was sure many girls got through without feeling the cane, or the paddle or even the firm hand on the backside but she didn’t know many that had her fear of it. When girls spoke of it, she left the room. The first and only time AD Jackson had mentioned corporal punishment in passing she had almost cried.

On the third swat from inside she heard a little cry and she grabbed at herself. She had to pee! She ran to the washroom behind the desk and realized that it was closer to the inner office and she could hear the sounds better from there. The fourth and fifth swats landed closer together and the answering cries got a bit louder. Then the sixth with a loud report and the poor girl on the receiving end broke into sobs. These were not the muffled swats made when a paddle hits skirts. No, this was the clear, sharp crack of wood meeting bare skin. She nervously turned on the water to muffle everything and sat on the toilet even knowing she really didn’t have to go.

Quite illogically she looked about for a window where she knew there wasn’t one. Then she thought about the door-out, make a left then out, then out back into the sunshine. More swats landed answered by cries and sobs all overlain by AD Smythe’s distinctive but indecipherable voice. Sitting there on the loo Bethany put her fingers in her ears, closed her eyes and hummed. She breathed to calm herself; tried to look at her situation rationally. Whatever was happening to that unfortunate freshman had nothing to do with her. She was weeks from graduating with honors. Just settle yourself, she thought.

After a few moments she looked up and popped her fingertips out of her ears. It had gone silent. She rose and turned off the water. The inner door-then the outer-opened then closed. She looked at her face completely flushed in the mirror and splashed a little water on her cheeks. She patted with a hand towel and stepped back into the waiting area.

Amy was back behind her desk with her wide smile. “Oh, there you are…We were afraid you’d run off!”

“No….no…I had to…”

“Of course, yes”, said Amy breezily. “Ms. Smythe will see you now.”

To be continued….

Mt. Ashby Academy-The Twins

Lifted from Pentych's awesome Tumblr Blog

Lifted from Pentych’s awesome Tumblr Blog

Fresh out of the shower and alone in the locker room, Alex Tao twisted to look over her shoulder into the mirror. She had given up ever being entirely happy with the size of her bottom but she did like it better dusted and crisscrossed with the light blue bruises that Colleen left her with weekly. A couple of the darker ones were fading to an autumnal gold color signaling the time was nearing for a fresh set. The girl had learned the art of the cane quickly and Alex, in turn, was feeling more relaxed and able to focus on the tasks of running Mt. Ashby.

She dressed slowly-leisurely-knowing that her secretary would have the office open and tea made by the time she got there fresh from her morning workout and elbow rehab. Slacks today and a white silk top under a smart navy blazer that covered the elastic brace that she still wore on her elbow. She laced up her sneakers for the brisk walk across the quad and up the steps two at a time. Her mood was bright and she wore one of those goofy “just happy” smiles people wear when they were in a good mood for no real reason. Then she opened the door to her office suite and felt the smile, along with her mood, freeze then drain away.

There, in the outer office, sat the twins, Camilla on the couch and Philip on the hard backed chair. They weren’t “twins” actually more-what used to be called in less enlightened times-Irish twins; born eleven months apart sharing the same age for a few weeks. Camilla, slouching, affected the infuriating insouciant pose that held most people, including her professors, at arm’s length. Her clothes-though the most expensive and fashionable money could buy-blue corduroys and oxford cloth striped shirt and sport coat-were intentionally oversized and thrown together to give her the look of a very expensively dressed asexual ragamuffin. Her short blond hair, cut in a boyish bob, lay just over her ears, as her bangs fell across her forehead from the side part.

Philip, making a perfunctory move to rise when she entered the room, shared his sister’s slight build but was darker, more of a sandy, straw blonde than Camilla’s lighter yellow. She had probably dyed it, of course. While she was small and pretty behind the perpetual indifferent pout, his face was more pointed and feral.

“Please, Philip, sit. No need to get up”, Alex said closing the door.

Why had she said that? Of course he should have gotten up when she, any woman, entered the room. What was it about these two than forced everyone who crossed their paths to defer to them? Was it because they were rich and that the gym annex carried their grandfather’s name? A lot of people here were rich-Ashby wasn’t for everyone. Most of the bottoms she crossed with welts were attached to walking wallets whose monthly stipend exceeded Alex’s yearly salary.

“Is Colleen, my secretary, here?”

He nodded to her office door.

Colleen was in her office looking out the window. “We have guests”, Alex sarcastically whispered.

“Sorry, yes.” Colleen turned to face her boss. “I couldn’t stay out there with them any longer. They don’t talk and when you do they look at you like you’re speaking another language. I figured I’d come in here and….file.” She shrugged.

“Why are they here? Do we have any reports on them?”

“Nothing that I know of but they brought that”, she nodded at a sealed envelope on the desk. It was addressed to “Ms. Tao” and adorned with the seal of the Chancellor’s office.

“They said Mr. Foster sent them over.”

Alex opened the envelope and read the typed notice.

“Let me be, would you?” she asked Colleen, picking up the phone. Colleen left as she dialed. “Mr. Foster, please…Thank you”

While she waiting to be transferred she read the note over again. She was to cane the twins due to their ‘recalcitrant behavior as regards their financial obligations to Mt. Ashby…’

“Foster here.” His voice was hard and deep. Probably an affectation for phone conversations to make him sound older than he was. Which was a few years younger than Alex.

“Good Morning Wallace. Alex Tao…I have the twins over here…”

“Did they give you my note?”

“Yes…it’s….I thought this was the kind of punishment you would deal with in your offices.”

“Typically yes. But I’m so close to the family in all of our….dealings and the finances. I didn’t think it was especially proper, nor that I could do-adequately-what needed to be done.”

She was silently calling “Bullshit” on that one. He didn’t want to get on the wrong side of the twins.

“I see. Any guidelines for me…given your background with them?”

“No. Use your judgement. If it was me…” And it should be thought Alex, “I’d guess twenty should be right. Ten good ones each. And I mean good ones.”

“We can handle that…”


Christ. “I mean I. I can handle that.”

“Considering the recent goings-on over in your offices I didn’t think it would be a problem.”

A chill dropped into Alex’s belly. “What goings-on would they be?” she asked?

“When you finish with the twins, come over to my office so we can discuss that, alright?”

“What did you…” she further questioned but the line was dead. He had hung up on her? What the hell?

She went into the outer office where the twins hadn’t changed their positions or postures. Colleen was busying herself with a spreadsheet on her laptop that Alex assumed was the recording of the twins’ accounts.

“You know why you are here, right?” Alex addressed them both.

Phillip leaned back in the chair. “It appears we are in some sort of arrears…”

“I should say”, said Alex. “Colleen?

“Nine months behind on payments. The sums are significant…and there has been no response to any formal or informal entreaties.”

He tossed his chin toward his sister. “She handles the disbursements. That-the money-just leaves me cold. We can go now and she will take care of it.”

“It’s my understanding that the chance to do that was extended to you many times, and it’s gone on and on. This is a significant bill that you’ve been ignoring.”

“Not ignoring really…it just…” he let his hands rise from his lap flapping his fingers…

Camilla shifted a bit and seemed to bite the inside of her cheek. Alex was already tired of this conversation. If she could have gotten them-or Camilla apparently-to pull out a checkbook and just pay the bill now she would have happily done so just to get them out of her office. But she didn’t think it was that simple. She walked into her office and out of sight but the trio left behind could hear the rattling that Colleen knew were the canes in the umbrella stand. Alex came back holding two decidedly wicked pieces of bamboo.

Philip sat bolt upright, losing the air of indifferent cool. “You are not caning me!”

“I’m afraid I am”, Alex answered. “Both of you. Those were Mr. Foster’s instructions.”

“Foster!” he snorted half under his breath. “That functionary.”

Colleen smiled into her collar behind everyone but Alex didn’t show a thing. “Be that as it may,” she said. “You are to be punished for dereliction…”

“What if we pay today?”

“That doesn’t change the last nine months.” Then, after a pause, “Can you pay today?”

He cut a quick glance at his sister who had shrunken further into her clothes and deeper into the couch. She shook her head almost imperceptibly. “Great!” Philip barked. “Great. She’s the one you should cane then. This is her doing….” He caught himself and folded slightly. “What if we refuse…”

It was simple as she laid it out. They would be expelled. With the expulsion would come an open hearing of cause, and in this case, an airing of financial dirty linen. Playing a hunch, Alex pointed out would mean that their parents would find out that they hadn’t been paying and that the money might have gone elsewhere.

Camilla spoke quietly without moving or looking up. “Can we get onto a payment plan, you think?”

Got them! Thought Alex. “Of course, I’m sure something could be worked out. That would be between you and the Chancellor though. I only have one role to play here”, she said tapping the cane almost without thinking against her own leg.

“Good”, said Phillip breathlessly. “Good-cane her then. She was the one who…”

“Oh for Christ’s sakes Phillip, would you shut up please.” She finally looked up, her cheeks flushed either in anger, frustration, embarrassment or all three. “Just shut up.” He folded back in the chair properly cowed. “What do I have to do?” Camilla looked directly at Alex, her eyes clear and fiery.

“Take off your jacket. Just leave it there. And step into my office.”

The girl had merely to straighten her arms upon rising to leave the oversized jacket behind. She slinked through the door followed by Alex and her brother who had remained in his chair until Colleen had motioned that he follow. Colleen, bringing up the rear, marveled at the girl’s outwardly calm exterior betrayed only slightly by the flush in her cheeks. Red-faced Phillip, on the other hand, seemed a nervous, fidgety wreck.

With the dynamic playing out between these two, it was a relief that Alex was apparently resuming her caning duties. Colleen was fine with the compliant students who bared and bent on demand but hadn’t been exposed to a level of tension like this. Happily it was Alex standing at her desk. “Come over here, Camilla. Stand here”, she pointed with the cane and the girl had the open view of the campus and the hills beyond in front of her. “Lower your pants.”

“Really!” said Phillip. “Is that necessa-…”

“Shut up Phillip!” his sister hissed while unbuckling her oversized belt buckle. With the weight of the belt and the size of the pants, they fell directly to the floor upon loosening. Camilla’s shirt though, untucked as it was, covered her to mid-thigh.

“Lean forward and put your hands right here”, Alex ordered tapping a spot on the desk top. As Camilla positioned herself, Alex continued. “This will have to be on the bare bottom”, she paused imperceptibly to give the brother a chance to chime in but he said nothing. “So I’ll have to do some arranging…”

With the girl bent over, Alex put the cane down and lifted her shirt tail up over her back revealing a perfectly rounded bottom peeking out from under a pair of sheer high cut panties. The panties, revealing as much cheek as they did, would offer little protection against the bamboo but rules were rules. Alex stuck her fingers into the waistband and slipped the panties down until they too fluttered into the heap at Camilla’s ankles.

Witnessing canings always made Colleen nervous-more nervous than giving them actually- so she usually brought something into the room to occupy herself. She looked up from the folder of reports when the girl’s panties came down and marveled at the rounded perfection of her pert bum. You would never know it from the baggy clothes she wore, but that was probably the point. No hiding it now though. She held her legs primly together so she showed nothing else. Colleen’s gaze settled on Phillip who had stopped his fidgeting and was seemingly mesmerized by the sight of his sister’s bare bottom. To an almost inappropriate degree. It was her imagination of course but she would almost swear she saw him lick his lips as he leaned forward slightly.

Alex began as she always did with two taps of the cane across the middle of the bottom-as much a signal to the unfortunate that she was about to start as a range finder for herself. Camilla jumped at the touch and then settled-assumedly embarrassed at the break in her cool. But Alex, as was her way, was counterintuitively gentle and understanding.

“Is this your first caning, Camilla?” she asked softly.

“Yes”, the girl answered quietly, in a small voice, all edge and attitude gone.

“OK. Relax as much as you can…pick something out of the window to concentrate on and keep your eyes there. If you feel you have to tense, tense your shoulders or grit your teeth. Make fists. It actually hurts more if you tense your bottom.” Colleen noticed the girl’s cheeks soften a bit. “You don’t have to do anything-I’m doing all the work…just maintain position and it will be over before you know it.”

There was another pat-pat-pat across the bum then Alex let fly with a strong stroke right across the middle. Camilla gasped but nothing more. One more just below the first elicited a low “MMMM!” but her posture was unchanged. The third across the crown of her bottom-right at the top of the dividing crevasse-brought a loud “OUCH!”

“You’re doing fine”, Alex coached as the three matching pink stripes practically glowed against the milky white skin. The fourth stroke landed stiffly at the bottom of the cheeks-digging deeply into the heavy flesh that settled there. Alex wasn’t being entirely truthful though. Camilla was not taking this well-it had to be tough never having been caned before then having to endure this. She sympathized, but what could be done?

“OOOWWW!” Camilla yelped and rose on her toes. Wanting to take advantage of her distracting movements, Alex delivered the fifth stroke in almost the same place. Camilla cried out again and fell back onto her heels. Phillip, in the attitude of someone watching a horror movie, leaned back covering with his legs and arms crossed his chin in his hand.

Camilla began climbing after the sixth stroke: heel-toe, heel-toe one foot, then the other, in an effort to disperse the burn that was spreading across her backside. “Ouch!” she cried and slapped the desk moving her hand for the first time. Then after the eighth she slid her hands backward and pushed her bottom out almost lewdly-again trying to gain some respite from the sting. Alex waited for a moment for her to recover and delivered strokes nine and ten hard across the middle. “OOOO!” Camilla wailed shortly and sagged a bit.

“Ten!” Phillip barked. “That’s ten. She’s done.” Alex looked away from the striped bottom that was heaving slightly as Camille’s breathing returned to normal. “Yes”, she said. “That’s ten. Now it’s your turn.”

“My…? No way! I already said that I wasn’t taking a caning…”

“Chancellor Foster’s instructions were clear. You were to get twenty strokes-between you. I had assumed it would be ten each. You’re sister has taken ten…Now it’s your ten.”

Phillip looked ready to jump out of his seat as he patted his jacket and fidgeted about as if looking for a set of keys. “Well, ah…I can’t…I can’t do that-have that…”

“I’ll take them”, Camilla said in a tiny voice. “I’ll take his strokes…If that’s OK.”

“Cammie, I…” Philip started to say.

“It’s OK I guess”, Alex interrupted him. “If that’s what you want. If that’s what you both want.” She glanced pointedly at Phillip who was looking at the floor. “Ten more then-your brother’s ten.”

Alex renewed the caning just as she had begun the first stroke. There was the tap-tap-tap in the middle of the already bruised bottom then a solid stroke right across center. Camilla slapped the desk with an open palm but said nothing. Two more hard strokes landed low-covering purple stripes that instantly widened. Colleen thought Alex was going harder on this ten to further shame Phillip who sat by miserably, no longer showing the evident prurient interest he had in his sister’s bum.

Camilla kept her silence through the rest of the caning though she did raise her right hand off the desk then into the air as if hailing a cab. She also chose to ignore Alex’s advice to not clench as her cheeks were hard and flat and the cleft between them a thin shoestring. That was when Alex’s compassion took over and she delivered the final two strokes as mere flicks across the top where there weren’t many stripes. Colleen saw that a light sheen of sweat had broken out on the part of the girl’s back visible below her shirt.

“That’s it”, said Alex stepping away. “That’s twenty.”

The girl’s bottom displayed a crisscross of pink and purple welts as she remained in position catching her breath. “Can I get up now?” She asked.

“Yes, you’re finished.”

Camilla straightened unfurling her shirt down in back covering her. She bent over awkwardly and pulled her panties up gently over her tight, hot skin. Then her pants. It was always uncomfortable watching them dress afterwards. There had been no evidence that Camilla had cried during the caning but when she turned from the window her cheeks glistened and a single tear splashed onto the punishment form that Colleen held out for her to sign.

She stood then, head down and submissive. “I can go now?” she asked taking the tissue that Colleen had held out.

“Yes, we’re done here…Just report back to Mr. Foster for the payment plan we talked about.”

With that, she slinked back out of the office with Phillip in tow, still not looking up from the floor. When the door to the outer office shut Alex asked, “They like together don’t they?”

“Yes-big, green Victorian on Center. They have the second floor. Why?”

“It’s going to be a quiet evening there I bet…” Then…”I have to go see The Chancellor.”

“What for?”

“I don’t know….probably to do with this” she hoped. She gave Colleen the cane. “Put this away will you and hold down the fort…I’ll be back soon.”