Chapter One

 

The girls sat nervously in the gymnasium, glancing at each other and wringing their hands as they waited for the new Headmistress to appear. It was the first day of the term and they knew they were in for it, after the scandal last year caused the former Headmistress to be dismissed. The board of directors of the small British boarding school had said the students were "out of control" and lacked discipline.

Sure, perhaps there had been a few incidents, such as the time when Becky had dumped oatmeal into the washing machines or when Diane had let all the air out of Mrs. Stimson's tyres in the parking lot. But it had just been some fun by a few overly mischievous girls, nothing to cause such an extreme reaction!

Abigail Harcourt shook her head. The draconian rules being imposed at the boarding school this year were really too much! The brunette eighteen-year-old had begged her parents to remove her and place her at another school for her final year, but they had been adamant.

"You girls made your beds, now you must lie in them!" her mother had said. "You'll learn a good lesson there!"

Mrs. Haversham rapped her ruler on the podium and everyone went silent. Of all the teachers, she was the most feared, because she also acted as the Headmistress's assistant. Henchwoman would be more like it. She had steel-gray hair and narrow eyes that peered at girls from behind spectacles like some kind of predatory bird. It was said she had been behind the implementation of the new rules and had helped the board select the new Headmistress. Abigail had feared she might become the new Headmistress herself and could only wonder if the one they had chosen might be worse.

"Attention. Attention. Thank you, girls. We all know what a difficult year we've had. There have been changes made, as I'm sure your parents have discussed with you. I would now like to introduce the woman who will bring order out of chaos, the new Headmistress of Oxbrook Senior School for Girls, Miss Teresa Willoughby." She stepped back as the curtain behind her parted and a tall woman strode out.

The girls gasped. She was gorgeous! Miss Willoughby couldn't have been more than forty-five because she still had the blush of youth about her, Abigail thought. She wore her long brown hair up in a bun. Below, wide-set brown eyes scanned the crowd and Abigail felt her eyes brush over hers for a moment, sending a small thrill through her. The woman's prominent cheekbones bespoke good breeding and the way she carried herself told the girls she would brook no nonsense.

Miss Willoughby nodded at the teacher and addressed the girls. "Thank you, Mrs. Haversham for that kind introduction." She paused, eyes again surveying the crowd. "Look around you - you'll notice fewer girls here this year."

The girls glanced at each other guiltily. Becky and Diane were among those who had not returned.

"This school used to host three-hundred-fifty girls, now we have fewer than three hundred," she said. "That's because many parents did not agree with our plan to install corporal punishment. The board felt it was the only way to restore a sense of decorum and honour to our school. That's also why they chose me as Headmistress."

A low murmur went through the group.

"Quiet please." She had not raised her voice, but immediately the room fell silent. "It it my hope that we shall never need to impose such punishments. But if we must, you all know that your parents have signed a letter of consent."

The girls' mouths twitched as they each remembered the arguments they had lost with their parents.

"I'm sure you remember the unfortunate incidents last year that led us to this point. Let's go forward with a new spirit this year. Concentrate on your studies and you'll be rewarded. If you want to play games, you'll find no one will be amused." She clapped her hands and everyone startled. "Now then, Mrs. Whitmire shall lead us in the school song."

Mrs. Whitmire began playing the old piano, her wavering voice carrying through the air.

The girls nervously gave their voices to the song they had memorized when they had arrived at the school as first-termers. They had all grown so much since! Abigail looked around and hardly recognized some of the developing young women that she remembered as skinny girls a short time ago. Of course, she had grown as well, shooting up two inches and developing a more shapely form in just the last year alone.

She looked over at her best friend, Bonnie Catheridge, another eighteen-year-old who had failed to convince her parents of the idiocy of these new rules. "It's 1995!" the cute brunette had told Abigail. "How can they do such things nowdays?"

The song ended and Miss Willoughby returned to the podium. "Now then, return to your classes and let's have a great year, all right?"

The girls nodded woodenly and shuffled out, whispering to each other.

"What the devil will she do to us?"

"How can they get away with it?"

"Someone should sue the bloody twat!"

Abigail corralled Bonnie and they walked down the corridor to their next class. "What do you think?"

"I don't know what to think. But I'm tempted to act up, just to show Miss Goodie-Goodie that they can't control our every thought or deed!"

"Shhh!" She looked around. "Be careful."

"That's just what I'm talking about!" Bonnie insisted. "She's only been here a day and she's already got you tip-toeing around. And this from the girl who glued Mrs. Abernathy's desk drawer shut!"

Abigail giggled. "Hush! No one knows that was me! I'd hate to run afoul of the Headmistress for something that happened last year!"

"I think there's a statute of limitations or something. Relax."

They came to their classrooms and parted, giving each other a wave and saying, "Keep your chin up!"

The classes hadn't seemed to change, Abigail noted. They were still deadly dull, with teachers lecturing in front of the blackboard and the girls dutifully copying down their words as if they were written on stone tablets.

Her mind wandered and she wondered if Bonnie was right - perhaps she had been cowed out of fear of the unknown. Surely a few swats on the arse couldn't hurt that much! She shouldn't go through the school year like a robot. She should have some fun, show those old geezers on the board that the girls weren't going to submit so easily.

When school let out and they headed back to the dorms, she caught up with Bonnie and said, "I think you may be right about the new rules."

"Of course I'm right. Look around you, they're all petrified. I'm telling you, we need to shake up the order around her or else we'll soon be chanting 'yes, mum' in our sleep."

Abigail giggled. "That's funny. Yes, mum, let me have another, mum."

"Well, we might not even get caught."

"What are you going to do?"

"I don't know yet. But it should be clever, whatever it is. I'm bored by letting the air out of tyres or gluing drawers shut. I want the girls to be impressed!"

"Count me in," Abigail said suddenly, feeling the fear and excitement shoot through her. "Got any ideas?"

"Hmm. Let me think about it."

A week went by, a week of drudgery and boredom. The girls were settling in to their classes and most all seemed fearful of breaking any rules. Bonnie and Abigail tried to foment some rebellion, but met with great reluctance.

"I don't want to face Miss Willoughby!" said Rene Dunley, a short blonde who was Abigail's roommate. The four girls - all in their final terms -- had gathered in Bonnie's room, waiting for the dinner bell. "Haven't you seen the way she looks at us? Like were bugs or something."

"Aw, she's not that bad," responded Claire, Bonnie's roommate. She was serious student, with bookish good looks and rimless glasses framed by dark red hair. "I think she's really beautiful."

"Ohhh, looks like someone has a crush on the new Headmistress!" hooted Bonnie. She tickled the girl who screamed and pulled away.

"I can't see the value of pulling pranks just for the sake of them," Rene said. "The reason we did it last year was because they were driving us crazy with all their stupid rules. Now we have those same stupid rules enforced by the cane!"

"Yeah, it sucks," agreed Bonnie. "That's why we have to show we're not afraid of them! Don't you see? They've got us scurrying around like mice, afraid of our shadows!"

"Sure," Abigail agreed. "But what are we going to do? And whatever it is, I don't want to get caught!"

"I've been thinking about that. It's actually kind of the whole point. Someone has to find out just how severe these punishments are," Bonnie said. "I mean, right now, we're acting like they'd cut off an arm or something. I'm thinking, we act up, get a few swats from a paddle or a cane and report back how it went. Then we'd at least know what we're facing."

"So are you volunteering?" Claire asked her.

Bonnie looked around. "Am I the only one brave enough?" She glanced at Abigail and the girl felt the challenge there.

"Shit, I guess I'm game," she said. "But let's not do something too crazy, okay? I don't want my arse whipped too bad!"

"Well, let's not get caught then."

"Okay."

They shook on it.

When the school assignments were given out the following week, both Bonnie and Abigail had been put on laundry duty. From there, the plot just developed on its own. Laundry duty didn't mean they had to wash towels or sheets - the staff did that. But it did mean collecting the underwear and sports outfits from the girls in their dorm, making sure they were all properly labeled and handing them over to the laundry ladies. Afterward, they'd collect the clean and pressed outfits and return them to the girls.

One of the major complaints by the girls every year centered on the "granny's knickers" they were made to wear. They were big and white and dull. They longed to slip on a pair of French lace or bikinis, but those were strictly forbidden. They couldn't even choose a different color!

So it was a simple matter for Bonnie and Abigail to obtain some red dye from one of the girls who worked in the kitchen. Abigail distracted the staff and Bonnie dumped the dye into the washing machine processing some of the girls' undergarments. They came out a delightful pink and the ladies were beside themselves, thinking they had done something wrong.

But when Bonnie and Abigail showed up to collect the laundry, they could not contain their glee and the jig was up. They were both sent down to Miss Willoughby's office for punishment.

"I'm not sure this was such a good idea any more," Abigail told her while they waited.

"We wouldn't've gotten caught if you hadn't giggled like a schoolgirl," Bonnie retorted.

"I couldn't help it! Shit, now we're in for it."

"Come on, haven't you been spanked before?"

Abigail shook her head. "Have you?"

Bonnie gave her a look. "Sure. My papa gave me a whipping a time or two."

"Ohhh." She wasn't sure what to make of that. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It just prepared me for this. It's going to be nothing, I can assure you. Don't lose your cool. Remember-"

"Keep your chin up!" they said together and laughed. Abigail felt a little better.

That attitude lasted about five minutes, until Mrs. Haversham announced she would be punished first! She gave Bonnie a beseeching look, as if she expected her to jump up and volunteer to go ahead of her. But the girl just sat there, staring straight ahead. Abigail had no choice but to go in.

Mrs. Haversham had a hand firmly on her shoulder as she led the girl to the Headmistress's office. She knocked on the door.

"Come in," she heard and opened the door and pushed Abigail through.

Miss Willoughby was seated behind her big desk, her back erect, some papers spread out before her. Her hair was up and she was dressed primly in a full-length, old-fashioned blue dress, like a character out of a Dickens' novel. She pulled off her half-spectacles and laid them carefully on the blotter. "That will be all, Mrs. Haversham."

The older woman gave a slight bow and left, closing the door behind her. Miss Willoughby ignored the girl as she collected her papers and stacked them to the side. When she turned her eyes toward Abigail and gave her a penetrating look, the girl thought she might faint or wet herself. She wished she had never agreed with Bonnie's crazy scheme.

"I suppose you and your friend just had to test us, is that it?"

"Uh, no mum," she said, blinking.

"Then how do you explain that little prank you pulled? You didn't even try to hide your involvement!"

She wanted desperately to say it was all Bonnie's idea, but she squared her shoulders and said, "We just disagreed with the new rules, mum. I guess this was our way of showing it."

"Yes, well, many girls disagree with the new rules. That's to be expected. But you are here to be shaped into upstanding young ladies, not vicious little brats who do exactly what they please!"

The words stung Abigail and she wanted to say it wasn't meant to be harmful but she kept her mouth shut. She blinked back tears. She felt ashamed that she had disappointed this beautiful woman.

"Very well. You want to test me. So be it." She stood and Abigail felt the room sway a bit. She struggled to maintain her composure. "I think ten strokes with the cane will be in order."

Ten strokes! It seemed like a lot. She couldn't imagine how much that would hurt. Abigail bit her lower lip.

Miss Willoughby approached her and led her to her desk, where a small rectangle of rug was positioned just in front. Abigail viewed it as her punishment station. She was made to stand in the middle of it, bend over and place her elbows on the top of the desk. Her legs shook and more tears fell from her eyes. The Headmistress walked a complete circle around the desk, giving the girl plenty of time to regret her decision to act up. She strode to a panel on one wall and opened it with a key. Inside, there were several medieval-looking instruments of torture: Riding crops, tawses, cat o'nine tails and canes. Abigail's jaw dropped.

Miss Willoughby selected a thin cane and whipped it through the air a few times. The girl felt her arsehole pucker. The Headmistress approached her and stood nearby, staring at her.

"You will come to regret challenging me," she told her.

"Yes, mum," she squeaked, preparing herself for the blows.

But the Headmistress did something completely unexpected - she lifted the hem of Abigail's skirt and tucked it into her belt!

"Headmistress!" she cried, shocked that her modesty would be defiled like this.

"Silence!"

Abigail felt she had lost the power of speech. She stood there, bent over, her white knickers on display, her humiliation burning her face. She lowered her head and rested it against her hands, wondering just how obscene she must look at that moment.

When Miss Willoughby's hands began tugging at the edges of her knickers, Abigail stood up and reached behind her. This was really too much!

"Back into position!" the Headmistress barked.

"But mum! My modesty!"

"You should've thought of that before you ruined the underwear of several of your classmates," she said. "A bare-bottomed spanking is a just reward."

"But Miss-!"

"If you don't hush, I'm going to increase your punishment."

Abigail's jaw clamped shut at once. She returned to her position and didn't say a word when she felt Miss Willoughby's fingers tugging her knickers down to the meat of her thighs. Her face burned bright red.

Her embarrassment wasn't over.

"Spread your legs apart."

She did, feeling light-headed. This was so wrong! She shouldn't be allowed to get away with this! She wanted to stand up and challenge this woman again but feared further punishments. Why had she gone along with Bonnie? Abigail waited, knowing the Headmistress could see her naughty bits on display. When she felt the cane tap the insides of her thighs, she spread her legs further apart until her knickers were taut across her thighs.

"But Miss-" she squeaked.

"That's two more. Would you like four more?"

She shook her head and cursed herself for speaking. Twelve strokes! She vowed to take her punishment no matter what.

Miss Willoughby stepped back and nothing happened for a long minute. Abigail wondered if she was a closet lesbian and got her jollies staring at teen-agers' quims. Suddenly, she heard the whistle of the cane through the air before it landed resoundingly on her bottom.

She shrieked and stood upright, her hands flying back to cover herself. "Yeouch!"

"I want you to count each one and say, 'Thank you, ma'am.' Is that clear?"

"Oh god..."

"Unless you'd like me to add more."

"No, mum. Uh, that's one, thank you mum."

"Good, resume the position."