Chapter 1 - Friday

 

On Friday afternoon, Florence Merryweather sat at her desk in the outer office of Headmaster Worthing's chambers and regarded the afternoon's itinerary with deep satisfaction. Being Mr Worthing's private secretary and receptionist at Longfield Senior Young Ladies Boarding Academy could often be somewhat dull but there were most definitely highlights to relieve the tedium. Best of all these highlights, as far as Florence was concerned, were those regular occasions when some wayward student of Longfield Academy was obliged to report to Mr Worthing's office on account of her misconduct. Few at the Academy had any illusions as to the consequences of a summons to Mr Worthing's office on disciplinary grounds. The miscreant would present herself in the outer office to Miss Merryweather and, after stating her business and completing some preliminary formalities, would be ushered by Florence into Mr Worthing's inner sanctum. Once within that chamber of discontent, she would, unless there were exceptional mitigating circumstances, be inevitably facing the cane. It was, for Florence, the high point of any day.

She had, over the course of her three years as Mr Worthing's secretary, seen a steady stream of woeful teenage girls pass through her office on their way to a caning. On average, between one and three girls a week could be expected to climb the stairs to Mr Worthing's chambers to be caned. Some weeks it could be more. The record in Florence's experience had been thirty eight but that had been a week when a disgraceful episode in a French lesson had resulted in Mademoiselle Renoir's entire class being called upon to answer for their misbehaviour. Such collective punishments were by no means unprecedented. Only last term, a wild late night party in one of the dormitories had seen a dozen young ladies finding themselves on the punishment roster the following day. Given the regularity with which Mr Worthing exercised his disciplinary duties, it is hard to escape the conclusion that virtually every girl in the school had, at one time or another, found herself in Mr Worthing's office for the cane. There were, it is true, a number of serial offenders who were regular visitors to the Headmaster's office but, nevertheless, it was a rare girl indeed who could boast an academic career at Longfield Academy without at least one sound caning to her name.

Florence had seen them all at one time or another and seen them in all their moods. Some had entered her office looking sulky and resentful. Florence was always pleased to see that for she knew that such an attitude infuriated Mr Worthing and invariably earned the wearer of such a demeanour some extra strokes. It was the same story with those who arrived looking cocky and defiant for Mr Worthing could be relied upon to add a few extras to wipe the smirk off their faces. Some girls tried to be brave. Admirable though that was, there were few girls who could maintain their courage when Mr Worthing picked up his cane and fewer still who could sustain such fortitude after the first couple of strokes. More often than not, girls arrived for their punishment pale and trembling with fear. It was Florence's delight to stoke the fears in such penitents and her pleasure, when the subsequent punishment more than lived up to their fears, was unbounded.

Florence loved it all. There was nothing more gratifying to her than some fair young lass on her way to a caning or anything more pleasurable than the howls and shrieks emanating from behind the door into Mr Worthing's inner office as said young lass felt the cane across her rump. So arousing was it to Florence that she liked to masturbate as she listened to the squeals of some young unfortunate under the rod. She had taken to wearing loose skirts to facilitate this; sitting at her desk to raise her skirt and slide her hand inside her knickers; the wails of anguish beyond the door music to her ears and fuelling her excitement. Then, last half term, the less than satisfactory efforts of the workmen rewiring Mr Worthing's office had unwittingly introduced a new element to her pleasure and increased Florence's gratification ten fold.

Now Florence was looking forward to the afternoon's entertainment. She had, in her in-tray, a note from one of the teachers referring a certain young Patricia Wainwright to Mr Worthing's attention. Miss Wainwright stood accused of disorderly misconduct in class, misappropriation and mistreatment of school materials, the carving of vulgar words on a school desk, impertinence and general insubordination. The referring teacher had been scathing in her criticism of Miss Wainwright's behaviour and attached a formal request that she be disciplined severely to her complaints. Florence felt a thrill of anticipation for it sounded as if Patricia Wainwright had a most salutary thrashing coming to her.

Mr Worthing normally attended to his disciplinary responsibilities after class in the afternoon and before the evening meal. Thus Patricia Wainwright was due to report for punishment at four o'clock after her last class of the day. Florence could barely compose herself in anticipation. Patricia Wainwright was one of the prettiest girls in the school; a golden haired beauty who would have turned heads anywhere. She was a soloist for the school choir as well with a voice as golden as her curly locks. Florence grinned at the thought. Young Miss Wainwright would be singing a different tune shortly! What a joy it would be to hear her howl. Florence could hardly wait.

At long last the clock on the office wall reached the hour of four. There was, however, no sign of Patricia Wainwright. The minutes crept by until, at eight minutes past the hour, there came a tentative knock on the outer door. Florence raised her voice to bid the person without to enter and the door opened to reveal, at last, the sorry figure of Miss Wainwright herself. Florence inwardly exulted at the sight of her. Patricia was pale; her face pinched with dread. She was, it was plain, under no illusions as to her fate. She looked terrified.

Careful to keep the triumph from her face, Florence greeted Patricia with a smile as she walked hesitantly up to her desk, "Yes? May I help you?" she inquired disingenuously.

Patricia swallowed a couple of times, clearly having trouble articulating, "I... I'm here to... to..." she ventured at last.

"Yes?" prompted Florence, her face a picture of helpful innocence, "You're here to what exactly?"

Patricia pulled herself together and mustered a morsel of courage, "I'm here to... to see Mr Worthing, Miss Merryweather."

Florence frowned uncertainly and feigned surprise, "Really? Er... Miss Wainwright isn't it... Patricia?"

"Y... yes Miss."

"Well Patricia I don't recall Mr Worthing mentioning your name today. Do you have an appointment?"

Patricia nodded miserably, "I... I think so Miss."

Florence feigned even greater puzzlement, "You think so? Are you not sure?"

Patricia took a deep breath and composed herself. "I... I was led to believe that he... he would be expecting me."

"I see. What was the nature of your appointment may I ask?" Florence knew full well why Patricia was there of course. She just liked to hear them say it.

Patricia quailed, "I.... I'm here for... for the cane." she murmured dismally in a barely audible voice.

"I'm sorry. I didn't quite catch that. Could you say that again?"

Patricia blushed and wrung her hands before her, "I.... I said I'm here for the cane Miss." she repeated a little louder.

"Oh!" said Florence as if understanding for the first time, "It's a disciplinary appointment is it? Did Mr Worthing command your presence or have you been referred by one of your teachers?"

"Er... by Miss Collins."

"I see. Do you have a note of referral from Miss Collins?"

Patricia shuffled her feet in discomfort, "I understood that the... that the note had already been sent to the office, Miss Merryweather."

"Oh really? I haven't seen it," Florence lied easily, "Perhaps it's been put in my in-tray. I've been that busy I've not had a chance to go through everything. Let me see if I can find it." Florence made a show of rummaging through the papers in her tray, "What time was your appointment for?"

"Er.... Four o'clock Miss."

Florence paused to look up at Patricia with another entirely insincere look of concern, "Four o'clock Patricia? You're a little late aren't you? Why, it's nearly ten past now."

"I.... I was delayed at the end of class Miss."

"I see. Well I don't know what Mr Worthing will say about it. He's a stickler for punctuality you know. He usually adds extra strokes for being late for punishment." Florence saw Patricia wince at the thought and her pleasure increased. She affected a soothing, encouraging smile, "Well don't worry. He's been very busy today so he may not even notice that you're late." He would notice of course, Florence knew. He would notice because Florence would make sure to point it out to him. Finally Florence emerged from her search bearing a piece of paper clutched between her finger tips, "Ah here it is!" She spread the paper out on her desk and perused it carefully, "It says here that you are referred for punishment for disruptive behaviour in class and for damaging school property. Is that correct Patricia?"

Patricia lowered her head sulkily, "Er.... it wasn't all my fault."

"But that is why Miss Collins has referred you is it not?"

"Y... yes. I.... I suppose so."

Florence shook her head sadly, "Oh dear. I don't wish to alarm you Patricia but I fear Mr Worthing will take a very dim view of these matters. He was saying only last week that there has been far too much of this sort of behaviour in the classroom of late and he was determined to put an end to it. Julie Carstairs was up here on Monday for just this sort of thing and I'm afraid Mr Worthing gave her a very severe caning. Let's hope he's in a rather better humour today." He wasn't, as Florence well knew. He'd been struggling with the school budget all day and would welcome the opportunity to vent his frustration on young Miss Wainwright's bottom. "Anyway," Florence continued, turning business like, "I'd best dig out your file."

She rose from her desk and walked over to the filing cabinet. Plucking Patricia's folder from the files she returned to her desk with a thoughtful look on her face, "Weren't you in here for the cane just before half term Patricia? I'm sure I seem to remember you. It was for a similar offence as well I seem to recall."

Patricia gulped, "Y... yes Miss. I... I think so."

Florence opened the file and perused it for a few moments, "Yes here it is. You received the cane for gross misconduct in class and for impertinence. Mr Haverstock referred you for punishment on that occasion. I see that you were awarded twelve strokes of the cane."

"Y... yes Miss Merryweather.

Florence pursed her lips concernedly, "Well I hate to sound all doom and gloom Patricia but I'm afraid that it's likely that you'll be facing rather a lot more than that today once Mr Worthing sees that you are a second time offender. I should imagine that he'll be very disappointed in you and inclined to teach you a stern lesson, especially since he seems to be on a crusade to stamp out misconduct in class. Julie Carstairs received two dozen strokes on Monday and that was for a first offence. I don't for a moment think he'll be as lenient with you this time."

Florence was pleased to see a shudder of dread course through the young lady facing her. Patricia seemed to grow even paler than before and clenched her thighs together so tightly that Florence half hoped that she was going to wet herself with fear. It did happen occasionally and it was always a thrill to send the miscreant into their audience with the Headmaster with wet knickers on. Mr Worthing could be relied upon to be particularly severe with any girl guilty of cowardly incontinence. Only the previous year Mr Worthing had asked Florence to rustle up one of the cleaning ladies to attend to a puddle in front of his desk that a certain Janet Richmond had been responsible for when he had announced an unusually severe sentence. She had barely been able to walk after he had finished with her and she'd hobbled out of his office, sobbing piteously and clutching her damp knickers in her hand. Florence had enjoyed that very much indeed.

Sadly however, on this occasion, Patricia seemed to have mastered her rebellious bladder. Concealing her disappointment, Florence picked up the note and Patricia's file and rose to her feet, "Well never mind Patricia. I'm sure you have a good enough excuse for your behaviour to persuade Mr Worthing to ameliorate your sentence. Anyway I'd best take these in to him and inform him that you are here and waiting to be attended to."

Leaving the quaking Patricia at her desk, Florence walked across the room to knock on the door of Mr Worthing's inner office. Upon entering the big, spacious office she found Mr Worthing sat at his desk in his shirt sleeves. It was a warm day and the big bay windows of the office acted as a sun trap. It was like a greenhouse in there and Mr Worthing had all the windows open as he laboured at his paperwork, perspiring heavily. Florence smiled inwardly at his efforts to cool the room. With the windows open the sounds of a good caning could be heard throughout most of the school especially if the recipient was loud and vociferous in their anguish. She hoped that Patricia would put on a good performance to strike fear into her listening audience.

Mr Worthing looked up from the pile of papers on his desk and ran a hand through his greying hair, "Yes Florence?" Florence smiled at him apologetically for disturbing him at his work. She was rather taken by Mr Worthing. He was a fine looking man in his mid forties; of athletic build and with a handsome chiselled face. He was also a single man; his late wife having died tragically young some four years previously. Florence had often attempted to tempt his eye: leaning over his desk to present him some papers with a low cut blouse on or bending over a little too far, in a short skirt, ostensibly to retrieve something from a low drawer. So far, however, her efforts had come to naught and he had remained entirely aloof and professional. She still had hopes however and if Mr Worthing ever wished to ravish her across his desk then he would find token resistance at best and more likely willing cooperation.

"I'm sorry to disturb you sir but I have Patricia Wainwright outside reporting for punishment."

Mr Worthing made a gesture of exasperation that boded ill for young Miss Wainwright, "Oh damn it! What's she been up to?"

"Gross misconduct and disruption in the classroom compounded with damage to school property sir. I have the letter of referral from Miss Collins here. It is extremely condemnatory I'm afraid to say sir. Miss Collins has ended her note with a formal request that Miss Wainwright receive a salutary punishment."

Mr Worthing frowned sternly, "Let's have a look at it." Florence handed over the note and waited while he perused the content. "Well that seems cut and dried," he observed at last, "It looks like she's due for a sound caning."

"Yes sir. I thought so too. I have her file here as well sir. It seems she was caned for a similar offence only last term."

"Was she by God! Let me see." Mr Worthing took the file from Florence and took a minute or two to thumb through it, "I only gave her a dozen strokes," he noted, "I must have been pressed for time. It was obviously insufficient to correct her ways."

"Apparently not sir," Florence agreed, exulting inside, "She doesn't appear to have taken the earlier lesson very seriously if I may say so sir. She was even late for her appointment sir."

"Late?"

"Yes sir. She walked in ten minutes late and with no good excuse for her tardiness."

Mr Worthing shook his head grimly, "Did she indeed? Well the little madam won't get away with it this time. I'll make sure she won't forget the hiding she has coming to her today for a long time and no error. I'll soon settle her hash for her!"

"Yes sir. Forgive me for saying so sir but I think you are quite correct. Miss Wainwright seems to have a rather cavalier attitude to a disciplinary summons if I may say so. I'm sure a good sharp lesson will do her a power of good."

"Well you may rest assured that she'll have one Florence. I'll see to it that she gets the thrashing she deserves. Would you be so good as to fetch my senior cane from the cupboard and lay it on the front of my desk. That way she'll see it when she comes in and know what's coming to her."

"Of course sir." Florence crossed the room to the tall cupboard in which Mr Worthing kept his canes. She was careful to keep the glee out of her eyes but she was rejoicing inside. Mr Worthing's "senior" cane was the longest and most feared implement in his collection; reserved for the most deserving of miscreants. It was the notorious object of dark legend at the academy; an instrument of dread to strike fear into anybody unfortunate enough to face its kiss. It was the same implement that had caused the unhappy Janet Richmond to empty the contents of her bladder into her knickers upon being sentenced to a flogging from it. With a bit of luck it might elicit the same response from Patricia's water works. Florence took the cane from the cupboard, almost trembling with excitement, and laid it carefully, in full view, on the front of Mr Worthing's desk. It would be the first thing Patricia Wainwright would see as she approached Mr Worthing's desk. That would make her quake in her socks, thought Florence happily.

"Right then," Mr Worthing said, "You'd best send her in now and I'll see to her."