The Happy Headmistress By Tommy Part 1 Little could be seen of the schoolboy. He was in any case very small - being only seven years old - but besides he was bent over with his head, forearms and elbows resting on the seat of an upright chair. As he had been ordered, his legs were straight so his tiny bottom was inescapably tightly bent. Beyond his stretched white underpants, his upper body curved away unseen by Miss Hadley, seated at her desk. Of course, she knew what he looked like. Only a few minutes before she'd had him standing in front of her desk while she delivered a stern lecture that had already frightened the little boy close to tears. But then she had finished her scolding and imparted the awful information that she was going to cane him. After that, she had told him to remove his green blazer and take up his present pose. Miss Hadley stood. She was a tall, well-built woman who kept herself fit. She had played a lot of squash when younger and even now, when she was in his forties, still played tennis. She walked across the room and opened a cupboard door. She looked at the rack of canes inside and took her time selecting one - although she had known from the outset which one she would choose. John Stanton was one of the new intake to the school and as this was to be his first caning she chose the shortest, lightest cane available - though it still delivered a wicked sting. Having picked out the implement, she swung it in an arc, cutting the air to make a scary whistling sound. Little John twitched nervously at the sound. Miss Hadley was as firm a believer in psychological terror as she was in physical pain for punishing her pupils. Miss Hadley moved behind the little boy. She could imagine his mounting anxiety, his heart hammering now against his ribs in his small chest. Looking down at him from her height, she could see the back of his small white shirt, a short stretch of neck and a head of thick brown hair with its neat centre parting. She put down the cane on her desk and bent to take hold of the child's shirt. She lifted it over the small rotundity of his bottom and clear of the seat of his tight underpants. It being 1955, these decently covered all of the little boy's cheeks. But not for long! Miss Hadley took hold of the elasticated waistband and with a brisk tug slid the underpants down over the little hump of the boy's bottom and along the short stretch of plump, pale thigh to his knees. Miss Hadley smiled. The child's bare bottom looked almost absurdly small, the tiny cheeks poignantly vulnerable. Not that Miss Hadley felt any pity; she enjoyed this first baring of a new boy's bottom, this initial display of previously hidden flesh, as yet unmarked. She liked to imagine the tumult of emotions - fear and shame predominating - that churned in the child's mind as he waited in desperate dread. Most of the boys who came to Mallingbury were no strangers to physical punishment, but many had previously felt nothing worse than a parental hand spanking their bottoms, the cane being a terror not yet encountered. Miss Hadley wondered if John Stanton was one of these. His father, she remembered, was a respected local architect who could afford to send his son to this prestigious boarding school. He had readily approved the school's disciplinary system, which was, after all, not particularly unusual for the times, but that did not necessarily mean he had used an implement on his little son himself. Well, if not, it would be salutary experience for the little boy. Miss Hadley recalled herself to her duty. This agony of apprehension was part of the child's punishment, of course, but she did not like to delay too long with these ingénues. She had once had a fretful seven-year-old nervously lose control of his bladder during this anxious prelude and pee all over the lino. She had made him - still half-naked as he was - go and fetch a mop and bucket to clear up the mess. And when he had done that, she had caned him soundly, adding extra strokes for his lack of proper British pluck. But comical though the incident had been at the time, the stink of urine had lingered for weeks in his study and she had no wish to repeat the experience. She picked up the cane and measured a suitable distance by tapping the business end against the schoolboy's small buttocks. She was amused to see the tiny cheeks flinch nervously in response. She lifted the cane, waited a few fluttering heartbeats, and then with plenty of wristy energy swept it down across the schoolboy's tiny bottom. "Ow!" John squealed shrilly, and his small body jerked in reaction to the sudden pain. A thin red weal - broken by the crease of his bottom - appeared across his cheeks. Miss Hadley noted the schoolboy's response; it made it seem unlikely that he had ever been beaten seriously before. She raised the cane and swished it across the defenceless cheeks a second time. John's "Ouch!" of pain was louder and shriller and his bottom - now marked with parallel lines - squirmed. Miss Hadley waited. And then swept the cane across John's buttocks again. This time John screamed and burst into a flood of tears. Miss Hadley calmly watched this display of suffering. It was no more than she expected. Had he not been crying by now she would have felt obliged to increase the severity of the thrashing until he did. Not that she showed any particular mercy with the next cut that had him bawling even louder. Ignoring the noise, Miss Hadley methodically aimed and let fly with another whistling swish of the cane. John screamed piercingly and his tears flowed faster. Finally, Miss Hadley flicked her wrist to send the cane cracking across the very tops of John Stanton's thighs, making him screech like a banshee. Satisfied, Miss Hadley told the little boy to stand facing her, which he did shakily, snot bubbling from his tiny nose, tears streaming down his face. Automatically, his trembling hands moved to try to soothe his smarting cheeks, but at Miss Hadley's snapped command, he quickly put his palms on his head. Miss Hadley bent and lifted up the front of his shirt. Whenever she punished a boy she always liked to check his little privates, which in this case were certainly small and quite soft, dangling rather pathetically between his thighs. Poor John did not even notice this intimate examination, his attention being taken up with the searing pain in his bottom. Then, her curiosity satisfied, Miss Hadley barked an order at the little boy and he hobbled to the corner to face the wall, with his shirt still up, his underpants around his knees and his red-striped bottom on display. While John Stanton cried in the corner, Miss Hadley completed the entry in the official Punishment Book. This done, she took a fresh card from her own index system and wrote John Stanton's name at the top. She then filled in the details of his punishment, including his response. She kept this private record of all the punishments she administered. When she had finished, she filed it away in the little drawer and looked across at the still sobbing chastised child. John's bottom was so small that the six cane strokes completely covered it, the dark weals almost touching with crimson swollen flesh between. He would keep the marks for a few days. It had been a severe thrashing, right enough, but all punishments at Mallingbury were intended to be rigorous. However, none of the lines actually crossed, she noted with a sense of pride; her aim had been excellent. Frequently the strokes did overlap, sometimes by accident or unavoidably because of the large number of cuts administered to a boy's small bottom, but often the headmistress deliberately laid the strokes across each other, leaving a criss-cross pattern that would result in great pain and considerable bruising. However, she usually reserved this sort of treatment for the hardened malefactors whose parents were unlikely to object. Not that she received many complaints, she mused, still studying the reddened bum of the noisily weeping boy. Over the years, only two sets of parents had gone so far as to remove their sons from the school because of the harshness of their punishments. There had been a few more who had questioned the severity of her disciplinary policy before coming, with various degrees of reluctance, to accept it, but these were rare cases; the majority of parents either silently approved her right to discipline their sons, or, in a surprising number of cases, enthusiastically encouraged their children's' chastisement. John's crying subsided to sobs. Miss Hadley told him to pull up his underpants and rearrange his clothes. When he was decent, she gave him another stern lecture and then told him to return to his lessons. Naturally, he would have a detention after classes to make up the work he had missed. The theory was that when he returned red-eyed to his class to sit uncomfortably at his desk, the other boys would learn from his example and the standard of behaviour would therefore be improved. In fact, Miss Hadley could rely on her teachers to supply a steady stream of naughty schoolboys for punishment almost regardless of their conduct. She remembered the boys sent to her yesterday and smiled. Having handpicked most of the teaching staff herself, she had ensured that every teacher shared her own views on corporal punishment. Two of them had even been with her at training college. For a few seconds her eyes glazed over. Oh yes, Joyce and Marjorie! What ever would she do without them? There were eight classes in the school - two for each year (7+, 8+, 9+, 10+). Each had around twenty pupils, making about a hundred and sixty boys in total. She gave around four hundred punishments a term - an average of a little over two canings for each pupil - so on a typical school day she thrashed six boys. Of course, these were only middling figures - some days she caned fewer than three boys, some days more. Similarly, some boys were caned a lot more than once a term - a few had been known to be caned three or even four times in a week - and some were rarely caned at all. However, it was unknown for any boy, no matter how scholarly or well behaved, to complete his career at Mallingbury without being bent over for a thrashing at least once. Hence Miss Hadley's card index system extensively cross-referenced. She liked to have every boy's details readily available. Oh yes, their 'details'! Fortunately, that particular index system contained numbers and codes that could only be deciphered by herself, and of course, her two friends. Miss Hadley continued to work away at her desk for some time before she was interrupted by a nervous knocking at her door. "Enter!" she declaimed like the voice of doom. Miss Hadley recognised the incomer as Daniel Gardiner, a tall ten-year-old with a mop short, dark blonde hair. Daniel nervously handed over a folded sheet of paper. "Please miss, Miss Montjoy told me to give you this." Miss Hadley unfolded the note, but did not bother to read the schoolboy's offence. Daniel was a regular visitor to her study. She gave her customary lecture on discipline, but she doubted Daniel listened, he had heard it all before. He was certainly much more concerned with what he was going to get when she had finished. For the occasional culprit, the normal punishment was between four and ten strokes of the cane, depending on the gravity of the transgression, but for frequent offenders, like Daniel, a heavier ration of between eight and fifteen was customary. Today, Miss Hadley decided to give this boy a dozen strokes. "Step over by that chair," she directed when she had come to the end of her reprimand. Daniel obeyed, taking up a position still facing her by the chair over which little John had recently bent. "Take off your blazer and hang it on the back," she instructed. Daniel did so. He now stood in his grey shorts, green and gold striped tie, white shirt, grey knee-high socks and black lace up shoes. Take off your shorts," the headmistress ordered curtly. Daniel obeyed without question; he was used to this ritual. Miss Hadley looked where his thin white underpants pulled tight across his groin outlining his bulge. "Tuck your shirt up," he told him. He obeyed and she saw the small swell of his tummy up to his navel. "Now take off your underpants," she said coldly. The schoolboy's pale complexion suddenly glowed warmly with a blush of embarrassment, although he had expected nothing else. With only the merest hint of hesitation he slid the underpants down his long legs and stood first on one foot and then the other to pull them over his shoes, then he put them tidily on the seat of the chair with his shorts. His hands twitched to cover his groin, but he forced them to his sides and stood awaiting the headmistress's further instructions. Miss Hadley looked at the child. She had seen him like this many times during her time at the school as he had early on warranted a reputation with the teachers as one of the more obstinately difficult boys and was consequently never given the benefit of any doubt, but was sent immediately to her for punishment for the slightest breach of rules. He was now one of the oldest boys in the school - nearly eleven - but she was pleased to see that his groin remained as bald as it had been when she had first seen him as a little boy of seven. How many canings had she given him since then? She'd need to consult her index, but well over a hundred, she reckoned. He had grown even taller during the holidays. His legs were coltishly long and, another sign that he was growing up, his penis had lengthened and his small testicles looked decidedly heavier. Miss Hadley cleared his papers from the top of her desk and told Daniel to bend across it. While he stretched himself across the polished wood, Miss Hadley went to her cupboard to select a suitable cane. This time she made no pretence of testing different possibilities, but immediately chose the longest, swishiest, most severe weapon in her armoury. She swept it through the air next to the unfortunate boy. Whereas the cane she had used on John had whistled, this one made a deeper whooping sound as it cut the air. After a few more terrorising sweeps, she turned to her victim. "Tiptoes," she instructed succinctly. From familiarity born of long experience, Daniel went up on his toes. This had several good effects from the headmistress's point of view: it made him more uncomfortable, it raised his bottom so that it jutted out at a better angle, and it stretched the skin. She looked down at his tightly rounded buttocks. Luckily, although he was slender, Daniel had a well-developed bottom. This was a result not only of his being the best athlete in the school, but also because he had been frequently spanked with a variety of implements since early infancy. The headmistress stood a little to Daniel's right side and tapped his firmly muscled cheeks with the further length of the cane. She raised it, and with twist of the wrist swooped it down to land with a sharp crack across his bottom. The flesh dented for an instant while the cane bit before springing back into shape, a raised red weal marking the line of livid pain. Daniel gasped, but otherwise did not betray his suffering. The headmistress paused to allow the full impact to register in the child's mind and then struck again. Daniel's gasp was sharper now as a second ridge of agony was imprinted on his skin. So it went on as a third, fourth, fifth and sixth stroke cut across the child's vulnerable cheeks and new lines of torture were placed parallel with the others and Daniel's gasps became half-stifled squeals. Then, on the seventh stroke, Miss Hadley deliberately brought the cane down a slight angle so that it cruelly cut across several of the existing weals. Daniel jumped and let out was high yell as his tortured nerve endings registered the extra agony. The next stroke also made on the diagonal, Daniel's bottom jumped and jerked uncontrollably as even that stubbornly gutsy boy began to cry. The next two strokes went straight across Daniel's buttocks, but of course, these now cut across the two diagonal weals and one of them also landed right on top of an existing welt making Daniel scream loudly. The last two strokes the headmistress aimed at the schoolboys' thighs. She didn't mind leaving visible marks on this boy; it would scare some of the other pupils. After the thrashing, Daniel spent a good ten minutes crying in the corner before being allowed to dress and resume his place in class. She knew he would be badly bruised and would not sit comfortably for days. When Daniel had left her study, Miss Hadley continued with the multitude of tasks a headmistress had to fulfil, but in the middle of the afternoon there came a lightly tremulous knock on his door. "Enter!" she boomed sternly, wondering who would answer her summons. She was surprised to see it was Mark Gibson, who was not only a swot but also one of the best-behaved boys in the school. The nine-year-old stood before her desk snivelling, his brown eyes glazed with tears. " Miss Roswell told me to give you this," he sobbed, handing over a note. The headmistress scanned it rapidly. It said Mark had been talking in class and had then insolently lied. She guessed it was all a mistake. This teacher was notoriously shortsighted and quick to misunderstand any situation. But teachers had to be backed up if discipline was to be maintained and anyway she welcomed the chance to beat this paragon who had already been at the school for two years and had only received the occasional spanking. She began by giving Mark a stern scolding that alone reduced him to tears. Of course, she gave him an even angrier telling off for that. While she went through this customary procedure, at least half her mind was on what she was going to do with the boy after that. Although certainly not fat, Mark was a normally robust nine-year-old and she had no qualms about giving him a sound thrashing. When he had finished telling him off, Miss Hadley stood and went behind Mark. She reached forward, unbuttoned his blazer and slipped it from his shaking shoulders. She put it on the chair back and sat on the seat. She turned Mark around so that he faced her. She bent, untied his shoelaces and slipped his shoes from his feet. Next, she turned her attention to his tight shorts. "Oh please don't," he sobbed as his grey shorts fell to the floor, and then squealed as she slapped his leg and told him to be quiet. After that, she hooked his fingers into the waist of his thin underpants and pulled them down while he gave a long moan of mortification as he was shamefully exposed. She tucked back his white shirt so that her view should not be obscured and made a close examination of his genitalia. When Miss Hadley's curiosity regarding Mark's privates was satisfied, she stood and went to the cupboard where she kept her canes. Most of the whippy rods of rattan hung along a rail by their curly handles. They varied in length between about twenty-eight and thirty-six inches and were of differing diameters. These were the canes she mostly used, preferring to stand to deliver with the boy bent before her so that she gained the extra leverage from her height and the cane's length. But this time she decided to cane the terrified Mark across her lap and use one of the shorter, straight sticks she kept in a stand on the floor. She selected a whippy length of rattan measuring about twenty inches that would be suitably severe, but easily manageable in that position. She picked it up and returned to the shaking child. Miss Hadley sat down and pulled the wailing Mark across her knees. She knew that he would struggle violently and so she made sure to keep him close to her body so that his left hand was trapped behind it. She twisted his right arm up his back and held it there in her left hand, which also served to pin him down. His crotch pressed against her right thigh and his fat little bottom was bent across it. His legs dangled, his feet not reaching the floor - altogether, a very satisfactory position! Mark was still protesting his innocence desperately begging to be let off the caning, but she ignored his babbling and raised the cane for a hearty swipe across his squirming buttocks. He shrieked as if she had branded him with a red-hot poker, and the sudden weal that marked his cheeks certainly gave that appearance. As usual, she waited a few moments, partly to let his injured nerve endings receive the full impact of their agony and partly to heighten his anxiety, then she swept the rattan rod across his tender cheeks again. "YEEAEIOU!" Mark screamed. His hips rocked from side to side as he writhed across her and his little legs pumped the empty air as if he was trying to escape the hideous torment of his beaten bottom. It did him no good. The cane swished down and cracked across his wriggling rear making him scream again. "STOPPIT! STOPPIT! PLEEEEASE!" Mark screeched, and his struggles became even more frantic. It was just as well she had not relied on him maintaining a bent position himself, she mused, as she whacked the cane across his jumping buttocks. Unfortunately for Mark, his frenzied attempts to avoid the blow made the headmistress miss her aim slightly and the cane cut slantwise across the lower part of his bottom so that the tip bit into the top of his right thigh. That made his screech like a soul in torment - which he no doubt was, especially when Miss Hadley deliberately aimed the next stroke to run along side the last. The headmistress suddenly realised that she had not decided on how many strokes to give this little boy. In fact, she was not even sure how many she had given him already. Her eyes traced the separate weals - one, two, three, four, five. She decided to give him four for talking in class and another four for denying it: eight, which meant three more to come. Mark's ear-splitting scream made Miss Hadley's head ring as she cracked the cane across the schoolboy's sorely inflamed buttocks. He was certainly not one to suffer in silence, she thought to herself with a smile. To judge by this response, he had never been caned in his life before, which was most unusual for Mallingbury boys. No matter, Mark would have his allotted punishment regardless of any repercussions. And so, for a seventh time the cane cut across the child's striped cheeks and again he howled his torment. Miss Hadley made sure that the last stroke of Mark's punishment landed squarely across the very meatiest part of his bottom, making him shriek again. The headmistress stood the bawling boy on his feet and led him to the corner where she told him to stand still with his hands on his head. In fact, she ignored the fact that he jigged from foot in a futile attempt to ease his tortured bottom. It took much longer than was usual for Mark to calm down enough for him to be returned to his classroom. While she waited, Miss Hadley made detailed notes on what she thought might well be his only beating. As she watched the howling, wriggling schoolboy, it occurred to Miss Hadley that although she generally used this over the knee position only for boys sent by Joyce and Marjorie, it might be a humiliating arrangement for the habitual culprits like Daniel. She imagined the athletic boy's bulge pressed against her leg as he thrashed him. Yes, it could be interesting she thought. Eventually, Miss Hadley sent off the sore-bottomed schoolboy, even though he was still weeping miserably. She leaned back in her chair. She felt sorry for those unfortunate people who were not contented in their work. For herself, she was a very happy headmistress! ------------ Outside, the sound of happy children. Miss Elizabeth Hadley glanced at the time. Oh yes, Joyce would be taking some of the boys for their PE lesson now. Her eyes closed. Some people may have thought it odd that a boys school should have all female teachers, but Miss Hadley didn't agree. Things ran so much more smoothly. She heard Joyce's voice barking in the distance and smiled. They really must have a little chat later. Perhaps invite Marjorie as well. What a help they'd been over the years. They'd taken to their duties like ducks to water. With both ladies given seniority over the others, they'd been instrumental in organising all details of the day to day running of the school, from the position of the small beds in the dormitories, right down to the design of the shorts the boys wore for PE. It had been Marjorie who had insisted on the boys having monthly medicals. She had reasoned, quite properly, that with so many young boys under one roof, routine checks were important. After all, head lice could spread like wildfire. The same could be said for threadworm. It only needed one boy with dirty hands and within a few weeks, another ten boys would have their hands thrust deep between their buttocks, scratching like mad. Any embarrassment a new boy might have felt during the routine medicals soon disappeared when he saw the others being treated in the same way. Having the most private parts of his body so intimately inspected once a month soon became a normal part of school life. As Marjorie had explained, with their young bodies growing at such a fast rate, it was important to keep a constant close check on the boys' development. She had a point. Miss Hadley sighed contentedly. How many boys had been circumcised last year, thanks to the monthly checks? There were also those two boys taken immediately to the hospital with a suspected torsion of the testicles. Luckily, only one boy had required surgical intervention. Of course there were other reasons for the checks. Miss Hadley felt her cheeks redden slightly. The reasons that were never openly discussed, merely hinted at and secretly acknowledged. She wiped her forehead and shifted slightly as a familiar tingling started between her legs. A soft tap at the door. Miss Hadley's eyes widened as it opened and a mop of blond curly hair appeared, closely followed by a freckled face and the rest of the schoolboy, inching his way nervously into her presence. Timothy Shaw was ten and had so far been caned only a few times each term. Quite how he'd manage to evade a lot more, she had no idea. Rather short for his age, his tight grey shorts were stretched to the limit suggesting that the young boy in question had an appetite that was slightly too healthy for his own good. She recognised the handwriting on the letter he produced and smiled. This one was from Joyce. Muttering a silent thank you to her friend, she glanced quickly at the nervous little boy and read the letter. To any observer, such letters from Joyce and Marjorie were simple straightforward descriptions of the child's misdemeanour. To Miss Hadley, the letters contained a myriad of additional information. The phrase 'rude and inappropriate behaviour in the bathroom' was of course, a polite way of suggesting that the boy had been indulging in a spot of self abuse while taking a bath, clearly taking advantage of the fact that Joyce could not keep her eyes on twenty boys at the same time. Miss Hadley read the letter a second time and a thin smile formed on her lips. Certain keywords, the size of letters and even the presence of an exclamation mark all served to give her information no other person would dream of imparting. Quickly, she compared the new information against what was written in her index files. Yes, his behaviour during the last few monthly medicals had been most interesting! Of course, due their young age, it was quite rare for any of the boys to have any interest in sex whatsoever, and it was only in their final year that a few of the boys actually started puberty. Nevertheless, most boys did of course spend time exploring their own bodies and, as is only to be expected, some spent more time than others. Miss Hadley's zero tolerance approach to self-abuse was quite simple and heartily endorsed by the other teachers. What actually constituted self abuse was left to their discretion. She chuckled quietly as she recalled the many times she had boys sent to her by Mrs Benson, an elderly teacher close to retirement who considered even the hint of an erection as something deserving of eternal damnation. Miss Hadley had long since given up trying to explain that this did not necessarily imply impure thoughts or masturbation. Boys often had erections without even being aware of the fact. Mrs Benson obviously didn't agree and it was for this reason that at least four boys each week found themselves in her study. Of course, she simply punished each boy as if he really had been abusing himself. After all, her teachers had to be backed up if discipline was to be maintained. She put down the letter and looked at the frightened schoolboy standing in front of her desk. Timothy had been sent to her by Mrs Benson twice in the last few months. Close to tears, he shifted from foot to foot, fingers twitching as he waited for her to speak. Miss Hadley sighed and shook her head sadly. "Oh Timothy, whatever are we going to do with you?" The young boy looked down at the floor. A tear fell and splashed on the carpet. "Oh no, young man. I suggest you save the crying for later. I think you'll be doing quite a lot of it shortly!" Timothy sniffed and wiped his eyes. There was a long pause before Miss Hadley spoke. "Come here Timothy!" He stood obediently in front of her and trembled as his blazer was removed. Shoes followed. Miss Hadley had found from long experience that frightened schoolboys usually took forever to undress themselves. Much faster to do it herself. Her fingers on the waistband of his shorts, she looked him in the eyes and smiled. Timothy blushed and lifted his feet allowing her to remove them completely. He bit his lip and tried to avoid her gaze. He knew what was coming and his face grew even redder. Miss Hadley slid his thin white underpants slowly over his pert behind, down his legs and removed them. Timothy felt the cool air around his nether regions and shivered. A rather shy boy, it had taken him a long time to get used to undressing in front of ladies. The boys were closely supervised during baths and showers and it was always with his classmates around. The monthly medicals were embarrassing but carried out with an efficiency and speed that meant it was usually over in a few minutes. Of course the last medical had been more embarrassing than usual. He tried not to think about it. He wiped his eyes again and swallowed. He'd already resigned himself to his fate, and his bottom twitched as he imagined what it would feel like in a few minutes. Over the years he'd got to know Miss Hadley's canes quite well. Which one would she use today? How many strokes? As she held his shoulders he took consolation in the fact that at least the front of his shirt was hanging low enough to protect his modesty. His world started to spin. She was unbuttoning his shirt! What....? "M...miss..please..I..." He watched panic stricken as her hands moved down his front. "Miss...please.." Miss Hadley pursed her lips. "Be quiet please Timothy." She removed his shirt, pretending not to notice his red face. "Hands on your head please!" Timothy obeyed instantly. You didn't hesitate when the Headmistress told you to do something! He felt the heat from his cheeks and wished he wasn't so shy. Miss Hadley surveyed the young boy before her, now completely naked except for the small white cotton socks on his feet, contrasting well with his bright red face. "When was your last medical visit, Timothy?" she asked sharply. The boy looked confused for a few seconds. His eyes darted about, desperate to avoid looking at the headmistress. "Well?" "Er..I..I..can't remember miss." Miss Hadley shook her head. The traditional schoolboy's answer to so many questions! "It was almost a month ago Timothy. Given the circumstances, I'm going to just give you a quick check myself." She ordered the boy to remove his hands for a few seconds while she quickly looked through his hair. Good. No sign of any lice. Ears followed. Spots, rashes, signs of any injuries? There were none. Timothy swallowed and sniffed again. He knew what was coming now. Despite having undergone the procedure countless times, the feel of long bony fingers suddenly holding his testicles still made him jump. As usual, he obediently moved his legs apart and coughed, first once, then twice. He felt two fingers gently pull his foreskin back halfway over his tender glans. The reasons for this had been explained many times before and like all the other boys, he had come to accept this embarrassing intrusion into his private regions as a necessity. He knew some of the boys sent to be circumcised the year before and didn't want to join their ranks!. Normally, the teacher performing the medical would stop at this point and turn her attention to the next task, namely to check the boy's anus for signs of the small filamentous worms that could cause so much itching and associated alimentary problems. The fingers stayed and he was gently turned so that he stood sideways. A hard finger slid between his ample buttocks and he relaxed his bottom, as he had done on so many occasions before, allowing access to his tight little anus. Most of the younger boys felt no embarrassment at all at these medicals, being far more concerned with how 'ticklish' they were as the teachers' long fingers explored their nether regions. The feelings he felt as his anus was probed completely took his mind from what Miss Hadley's other hand was doing. His delicate young foreskin was being eased back, then pushed forward in a slow rhythmic manner while fingers that had previously held his vulnerable little testicles rather tightly now moved in gyrating movements around them. He came down to earth with a bump. The phone rang. "Stand as you are, please Timothy!" Miss Hadley answered the phone. Soon she was engaged in a most animated discussion with her sister, who like her, was the headmistress of another school, albeit a distinctly upper class secondary school in the Scottish highlands. After about thirty seconds, she looked up at Timothy and frowned. The boy saw the look in her eyes and understood. His cheeks now completely crimson he didn't need to look down, but could feel where her eyes were focused. If only the ground could swallow him up! Why did this have to happen now? Her voice was like ice. "In the corner Timothy. I'll deal with you in a moment." The young lad walked to the corner of the room, his stiff little manhood sticking up as if mocking all those present. Miss Hadley's conversation lasted about ten minutes. The sound of the receiver being replaced reverberated around the room. There was silence. "Come here Timothy!" She waited as the nervous and extremely ashamed boy walked to her desk, hands on head. Tired of its former glory, his manhood had returned to a quite forlorn state and looked as if it was attempting to hide itself. "Timothy, I am very disappointed in you. You're a very dirty little boy. Can you explain why you had an erection?" The sad young boy shook his head, tears running down his cheeks. "N...no miss." Miss Hadley sighed loudly. "Timothy, I have completed the medical inspection. Do you wash your hands before every meal?" A pause. Then a shaky voice. "Yes miss." "Hmm. Well, you clearly have the start of a threadworm infection, so I'll have to treat it." Timothy knew what that meant. Any evidence at all of threadworm and the boy was given three tablets to take over three days. That was the nice part. The standard treatment also consisted of a medicated cream that had to be applied to the area in question as well as internally. Timothy shivered. Back to reality. Miss Hadley went to the cupboard and opened the door, displaying her selection of cruel looking canes to the shaking schoolboy. She took her time, examining a few canes, slicing them through the air, enjoying the look of fear on Timothy's face. "Hmm, this one I think!" She took down a long thin rattan cane and bent it almost double. For a moment she chuckled. Yes, she should use a heavier cane for the boy, but this one would do the job. It would sting like hell but the pain would pass quickly. She looked at the boy out of the corner of her eyes and sighed. Yes, this one would be perfect. Returning to her desk, she saw that Timothy's face had lost most of its colour. She placed the cane on her desk and addressed the frightened boy. "You know the punishment for self-abuse Timothy. It's a most disgusting habit and I will not tolerate it. Is that understood?" A tear fell. "Y...yes miss." "I understand that his occurred yesterday evening. Did Miss Turner administer any punishment?" She had to stop herself from smiling. Joyce administer punishment? What a question! "Y....yes miss." "How were you punished?" "P..please miss, she..I mean.. Miss Turner,,, er.. I mean she spanked me miss." Miss Hadley raised her eyebrows in mock disbelief. "Spanked you? Spanked you?" Her eyes narrowed. "Your bottom doesn't look very red to me." But then, Joyce never spanked hard, did she? Oh no! Though she did take an awfully long time over it. Oh yes! Swiftly, she changed the position of the chair in front of her desk. "Bend over Timothy! Elbows on the chair, bottom up!" Resigned to his fate, hoping only that it would be over quickly and eager to hide his little boy parts from her gaze, he adopted the position -one of several - that she used when punishing naughty boys. As usual, Miss Hadley spent some time altering his position slightly, lowering his shoulders, bending his back, raising his buttocks, opening his legs... till she was satisfied. Not strictly necessary, but it all served to heighten the tension. Like all the boys, Timothy did all he could to please his headmistress, hoping, as all boys did, that the headmistress would see their efforts to please and somehow lessen the ferocity of the caning. "I said bottom up, Timothy!" She watched his buttocks jerk and stifled a laugh. "On your toes! For goodness sake Timothy, get that naughty bottom up. Higher!" The orders were given even though she knew full well that the poor lad was trying his hardest, but it did make for an entertaining sight. The cane flicked his left buttock. "More!" Timothy had his face on the cold wooden seat of the chair. How could he raise his soon to-be-thrashed bottom any higher? Suddenly bony fingers encircled his small testicles and to his horror he felt his delicate little bits being bulled back. "Bottom up!" Miss Hadley straightened and grinned. How she loved her job! From long experience, Timothy knew that the gentle tap of the cane on his quivering sweaty buttocks was the sign that it was to begin. Silence. Intake of breath. High pitched swishing sound, then... Miss Hadley watched in satisfaction as the boy's plump bottom writhed and twitched, a nasty looking red line spanning both buttocks, right in the centre. The second stroke followed very quickly. She knew from experience that the first two strokes were considered the 'first course' and merely a small precursor of things to come. The main course and dessert. As expected, the third stroke resulted in a high pitched squeal followed by loud sobbing. Good! Now they could get down to business! The next two strokes had the boy's bottom performing the most amazing gyrations and Miss Hadley stepped back one pace and bounced the tip of the cane on the palm of her hand. Tiring of the wait, she slid the cane between his legs and tapped his soft dangly bits, hanging so forlorn in full view. "Stop wriggling Timothy. That's one extra stroke. Bottom up!" The little boy stopped his strange wriggling as if electrified and thrust his throbbing posterior up as high as he could. As usual, Miss Hadley had not given any indication of how many strokes the boy was to receive. She never did. She'd given five. Why not make it eight? The tingling had increased. Yes, eight. That should do it. The next few strokes fell on the boy's upper part of his bottom. Timothy felt his face swimming in a sea of tears. How many would she give? So painful! So... Part of his brain asked why none of the strokes had landed on his upper thighs. Miss Hadley was well known for these more excruciating cuts, especially when nearing the end. Why...why.. "You may stand up Timothy." She watched him straighten his arms and slowly push himself up. His face was red and blotchy, tears mixed with snot covering his cheeks. Remembering the rules, he immediately put his hands on his head, even though his sore bottom was crying out to be rubbed. Miss Hadley wiped his face with a large piece of tissue and threw it in the bin. "Stand in the corner please Timothy." The poor lad turned and walked to the wall. She noted with satisfaction the nine red weals spanning his bottom. Of course she should have caned him more severely than this, in which case the weals would be thicker and turning a deep shade of blue by now. But no, for now this was sufficient. Timothy stood in the corner, a few tears still in his eyes, his bottom feeling as though it was next to a powerful electric heater. As the pain eased to a dull throb he wondered if perhaps, just perhaps, he'd been lucky. Normally for boys in his class, Miss Hadley picked one of the canes from the left, the thicker, less bendy sort, reserving the rest for the younger boys. With any luck, he may not have any bruises at all. And yet.... With boys being caned so frequently, it was common practice for boys to compare 'stripes' while getting changed, showering and even in the dormitories after lights out. Those with the most bruised backsides were revered and treated with some respect. He wondered what his friends would say later if all he sported were red lines. Not just the other boys. The teachers supervising them also occasionally commented on the state of their bottoms, more often than not making some remark about having got off lightly. He hoped Mrs Benson wouldn't be in charge of the bathroom later. She was never satisfied with the boys' punishments. He could already see her turning him around to examine his weals and commenting to all and sundry in that loud rasping voice of hers, how lenient the headmistress had been with him. If that were not enough, Mrs Benson would then watch him like a hawk for the next few days, eager to find any excuse for sending him again to the headmistress, or for punishing him herself. Although the headmistress was the only person authorised to cane the boys, the other teachers were permitted to spank the boys as often as they saw fit, and Mrs Benson's hand was particularly hard! "Come here Timothy." He walked over to Miss Hadley's desk, blushing as he saw where her eyes were focused. Why, oh why did his cheeks have to go so hot all the time? It wasn't fair! It was only his willy for goodness sake! But why did she have to keep looking at it? "Well Timothy, I hope you've learned your lesson. Do you think so?" He nodded, his hands still on his head. "Yes miss...thank you miss." Miss Hadley smiled and leant back, turning the cane over in her hands. "Good. Now we've dealt with that problem, we can turn our attention to the next item on the agenda, can't we? Namely, your disgraceful behaviour while I was on the phone!" Timothy's mouth felt suddenly very dry. Yes, his willy had gone stiff, but..but..it had been after she inspected him and....hadn't she punished him enough already and... and... A tear appeared and he looked at the ground. He hadn't been punished enough, that was true. Deep down, he knew it was true. Mrs Benson was sending boys to the headmistress all the time for that very same reason. But... Miss Hadley tried hard not to laugh at the look on his face . "Here Timothy, take this cane back to the cupboard please." She handed him the long thin rattan cane, the end still warm from its recent application to his soft buttocks and followed him to the far wall. Timothy's legs felt like lead. He looked down at the instrument of pain in his hands and shivered. "Put it back on the rail please, yes just there. Good." She stroked his hair and pointed at the long row of canes hanging up. "I want you to choose another cane, Timothy. Choose the cane that you think you deserve for your punishment. I want you to be honest. Which one should I use for boys who have erections? Especially boys who have erections in the presence of a lady?" She paused, an evil glint in her eye. "I'll let you into a little secret Timothy. If I think you're being totally honest, I'll give you only four strokes. Four very hard strokes at the top of your thighs! But if I think you're cheating, you'll get double the dose - and with one of the 'special' canes. So which are you going to take?" Timothy shivered. Her special canes were on the far left, reserved only for the most serious offences. He knew only one boy in his class who'd ever been on the receiving end and the bruises had taken about a month to fade. He blinked back the tears and tried to think. He had to be careful. Had to! The headmistress was clever. She'd know instantly if he was trying to trick her! Which cane? He recognised one or two that he'd got to know quite well. But he was a bit older now, so...? Swallowing hard, he pointed to one slightly thicker cane to the left. "Th...this one miss?" Tears ran down his cheeks and he clenched his buttocks as he imagined what it would feel like. Being caned on the lower part of his bottom was bad enough, but at the top of the thighs was unbelievably excruciating! He waited. Waited for the headmistress to speak. There was silence. Miss Hadley placed her hand on the scared boy's head and spoke in a low voice. "I'm very proud of you Timothy!" He looked up in surprise. "You've been very honest with me, and I appreciate that very much indeed." To his astonishment, she bent down and kissed his wet nose. "Because you've been so honest, I've decided not to cane you any more today." The elation felt in Timothy's heart made him feel light headed. He was let off! He gazed at his headmistress, a feeling of affection never felt before suddenly growing stronger. Miss Hadley shook her head. "Before you think yourself too lucky Timothy, you should understand that you'll be on probation and your punishment will still be valid for the next thirty days." She saw the look of confusion on his face and smiled. "What that means is that if you're sent to me for punishment anytime in the next month, as well as that punishment, you'll also receive the four strokes with this cane." She winked. "So I advise you to be very careful from now on!" She turned so he couldn't see her grin. She was sure he would try to behave. Try very hard in fact. But she'd see to it that Marjorie or Joyce found a reason to send him before the thirty days were up. After all, she reasoned, he'd no doubt be teased by the other boys tonight for only displaying paltry thin lines on his backside. A well thrashed bum together with a collection of dark swollen weals across the back of his upper thighs would earn him respect. Who knows? Perhaps Mrs Benson would be sending him back long before. Hmm, good idea. She must have a word with Mrs Benson later. Tell her to keep a close eye on Timothy! "Right young man, I haven't got all day, so I think we'll just finish your medical, put the cream on to stop any worm infection, and you can get back to class, okay?" She glanced at her watch. "It'll be tea-time in thirty minutes, and I'm sure you don't want to miss that!" Timothy nodded, his eyes shining, still overjoyed at not having to face another painful session, bent across the old wooden chair. Though, she'd said 'finish the medical'. Hadn't they already finished? Miss Hadley read his mind and walked over to the long sofa next to the window. "Come on then!" Timothy followed her and put his hands back on his head as ordered. He hated having the cream put on. Yes, they'd all heard the reasons, and he remembered the pictures and descriptions of threadworm infection. Small little things wriggling about inside him, coming out of his bottom and itching like crazy. Horrible! Miss Hadley put a large jar of cream next to her and removed the lid. The idea had been Marjorie's hadn't it. Or Joyce's? Never mind. Of course the cream wasn't strictly necessary. If the truth were told, threadworm in the boys was extremely rare indeed, helped no doubt by the school's strict policies on hygiene. Random spot checks kept them all on their toes. Any boy found not to have washed his hands before a meal was sent straight to her office. She chuckled at the memory of the last few miscreants she'd had to deal with. It must be awful being thrashed and hungry at the same time! The cream of course was just cheap moisturizing cream, the idea being that the cream prevented any spread of threadworm or other infestation to the boy's genitalia. In reality it was totally unnecessary. "Stand still Timothy. Oh for goodness sake, don't look so worried. What's wrong with you?" The question was rhetorical and she shook her head in exasperation. Why was he so shy? His cheeks were bright red and she hadn't even started. That was about to change. Timothy swallowed nervously and then gasped as Miss Hadley's fingers cradled his small testicles. A million nerves sent frantic signals to the boy's brain. Too young to understand, his brain tried to make sense of the mixed signals. Apprehension, fear, embarrassment, and behind them another feeling, always present but only recently growing stronger - pure and simple pleasure! "Yes, I'm sure everything is okay here" said Miss Hadley. From a distance, any observer would assume she was simply checking him for hernia or undescended testicles, a common enough problem in young boys. A slightly closer however, would reveal her fingertips running lightly over the tight skin of his scrotum, a few fingernails gently probing the sides while another teased the sensitive area between his testicles and anus. "Okay, now I just have to put a bit of cream on and..." She quickly took some of the cream in her left hand and started to spread it slowly all over his genitals. Timothy closed his eyes, his intense embarrassment tempered by the most delicious feeling of what she was doing. Yes, he'd had this done before by other teachers, but it had never felt quite so....Miss Hadley felt his small manhood start to stiffen. It was time. "I think I may as well do your bottom at the same time Timothy" she said quietly. Her left hand still holding his genitals, she gently pushed him down across her lap, positioning him so he lay further across than he would for a spanking, opening her legs slightly making room for her hand that continued to gently massage the cream into his most private area. His tight pert bottom looked so perfect! Her finger traced one of the thin weals across both buttocks. She really hadn't caned him hard enough! Never mind. That would change soon enough! "Okay, now let's put this cream on shall we? Shouldn't take long." She teased the deep cleft between his buttocks and chuckled at the way he gasped. His penis grew stiffer in her hand and she squeezed it just ever so slightly. With two fingers, she eased his soft buttocks apart and ran her index finger over his tight puckered anus. Timothy felt as if he were floating. His headmistress was putting the cream on him. It was important, wasn't it? It felt so nice. So very very nice. So... Slowly, imperceptibly, Miss Hadley started to massage the boy's penis, her hand situated where it was, providing additional stimulation to another place, somewhere much deeper between her legs. She shifted her position slightly and shuddered as the first of what she hoped would be several orgasms rippled through her body. She knew that Joyce and Marjorie often used such a position when spanking the boys and she had often suspected old Mrs Benson did much the same thing. She remembered the spanking her friends had given to all the boys in a dormitory last week. Only fair. Someone had been talking after lights-out and hadn't owned up, so Joyce and Marjorie had spanked all eight boys. She'd arrived just as her friends had finished, their heavy breathing, flushed faces and sparkling eyes telling her all she needed to know. Quite in contrast to the eight small seven year olds lying on their tummies, pillows wet with tears. Timothy was a very lucky boy indeed! Of course, if she so desired, she could always use one of the new 'stimulators' she'd bought from that seedy shop in London. She did so detest the word 'vibrator'. Hadn't Marjorie purchased a new one only a few weeks ago? Probably. Quite amazing how the latest models were made! Designed so they were easier to keep in place, they had taken her level of enjoyment while punishing boys to new heights. A second orgasm washed over her and she moaned, tightening her grip on the boy's swollen member. She pushed her finger slowly into the boy's hot little anus. Even before puberty started, she knew how sensitive boys' prostate glands were, eager even now to start producing the fluid that would nourish the sperm years in the future. This boy wasn't the first, and he certainly wouldn't be the last. Her finger found the little bump it was seeking and started to stroke it. Timothy felt stars explode in his head. A strong tingly yet delicious feeling seemed to swell inside his bottom. His willy felt like it was electrified. His mouth opened wide and he gasped and shuddered as he had his very first orgasm. As with all young boys, it was intense but short lived, and quickly replaced by a strong tickling sensation. Miss Hadley was no novice. Her body rigid once more from another orgasm, she quickly released her hold on the little boy's now incredibly sensitive sausage and continued to rub cream between his buttocks. She gave him a minute to recover, indicating the session was over with a sharp but light slap to his provocative buttocks. "There, that should be fine now. All over." She lifted him up pretending not to notice the confused look on his face or his red penis that was quickly shrinking in size. Naturally, given his age, he had not ejaculated during the orgasm, nevertheless, she was pleased to see a drop of fluid at the tip of his small penis. "Right young man, get dressed please!" She pointed to his clothes on her desk. "Quickly! You'll be late for tea, and you know what will happen if you're late don't you!" Timothy nodded. Punctuality was taken very seriously in the school and he didn't want to find himself having his pants taken down again just yet! Miss Hadley watched him hurriedly pull his clothes on and sighed contentedly. Though Timothy would be confused and totally unaware of what had really happened, he had unwittingly taken the first step in what would be for him a long journey of discovery. He had joined the ranks of a select number of boys throughout the school and slowly but surely over the next year, he would be carefully manipulated, groomed and guided to associate pain with pleasure until the two merged into one. Then a scholarship to her sister's private school deep in the countryside where he would finally emerge at the age of eighteen, not only well educated, but totally convinced of his subservience, deeply indebted to his tutors and eminently suitable as a willing and obedient husband to certain young ladies that moved in social circles quite outside the mainstream of society. He had finished dressing and looked at his headmistress, not sure what to do. "Run along Timothy. Oh, and please remember to behave. I'm sure you don't want me to have to cane your bare bottom again!" Timothy nodded. "Yes miss, thank you miss!" He trotted out of the door, pulling up his shorts, outlining to perfection his buttocks. For a second, part of him seemed to protest, a dull tingling between his legs joining in unison. Yes, he did want to be caned again. Wanted very badly in fact. Because...because... He shook his head. What...? Why had he thought that? Don't be silly! Besides, it was teatime and he was hungry! Miss Hadley sat for a few seconds, deep in thought. Then she went to her desk and picked up the phone. Her sister had recently started admitting girls into the sixth form and had suggested sending one or two over for a work placement as prospective student teachers. They really needed to chat! ------------ Okay Paul, just sit on my lap. Come on, I'll wipe your eyes for you. Better?" Marjorie Stenton patted the boy's cheek with her handkerchief and gave him a little hug. She looked round at the empty dormitory and checked the time. "Do you think he did it on purpose, or was it an accident?" The small nine year old boy sniffed and relaxed slightly. "It wasn't an accident miss. The others saw. Craig tripped me up on purpose. He's always doing things like that!" Marjorie smiled. She'd found Paul running up the stairs to his dormitory, tears streaming down his face, a red graze on his left knee. She knew Craig well. How many times had he been punished for bullying this term? "Well, I think I'll deal with master Craig later" she said quietly, licking her lips in anticipation. "I think he needs a visit to the headmistress as well, doesn't he." Paul put his head against his teacher's shoulder and buried his face in her soft blouse. "Yes miss." He thought for a second about what he'd said. It was an unwritten rule that boys never told on other boys, but Craig was horrible! Besides... Paul closed his eyes and imagined the scene in the showers. Craig would no doubt flaunt his well thrashed bottom, ensuring that everyone saw how many red stripes he had. He always did. Why was the thought so exciting? What was it about other boys having their bottoms thrashed that he liked so much. So strange! Marjorie stroked his hair and hugged him again. "Better now?" she asked in a friendly tone. Her eyes sparkled as she shifted the young boy on her lap. Most boys would have already been sent on their way, but Paul wasn't just any boy. How many others like him were in the school? Overall, about ten percent or perhaps more. She thought about Timothy, whom she'd seen leaving the headmistress's study ten minutes ago. Now he was definitely in the top ten percent! She had to have a chat with Joyce later about him. It was the small signs that nobody else noticed, yet she and her colleagues saw immediately. Boys like Paul were far too young and naïve to understand how or why but the fact remained that they were excited by corporal punishment. In Paul's case as for some of the other boys, he also exhibited signs of homosexuality - if the term could be used for one so young. "Well, just have a little rest for a minute or so" she continued, stroking his thigh. "Just wait till I see Craig. I know he should see the Headmistress, and he will see her tomorrow, but since I'm in charge of the dormitories, I have to deal with him as well. I'll make his bottom so sore when I see him!" As she knew he would, Paul seemed to freeze for a second. "Shall I spank him hard, Paul?" She placed her hand gently between his legs, slightly nudging his small penis through the thin material. "Yes miss, very hard!" "Craig's got quite a big bottom hasn't he?" She nudged his little manhood again. "Very big, miss." Paul closed his eyes and imagined Craig being held across his teacher's lap, large bottom sticking up, waiting for the spanking to begin. He shivered. What a delicious image! Marjorie felt the boy's penis slowly harden and continued to stroke his leg while continuing to tease, almost imperceptibly, the hardening member with the tip of her finger. Boys! The way their penises responded, often without the child being aware of it, had always been a source of amazement to her. How many had she brought close to orgasm without them being aware of what was happening? She kissed his forehead and laughed. "You know Paul, some boys rather like having their bottoms spanked and seeing other boys spanked as well. It makes them feel all tingly." Paul didn't react for a few seconds, then opened his eyes. "Tingly miss?" "Yes. Not all boys, but..." She squeezed his thigh. "I know lots of boys who like it. They don't usually talk about it to the other boys. They'd probably get teased. But, you know, I rather admire them for being so honest. I think it's perfectly normal for a boy to like having his bottom spanked. Don't you think so, Paul?" Too young to see any flaws in her argument, the boy nodded. "Yes miss." "Good boy. I'm so proud of you!" Marjorie nudged the boy's penis again. It was rock hard, pushing the thin material of his underpants and shorts up like a tent pole. Paul turned his head and buried his face in the softness of her ample breasts. A delicious feeling flowed through his young body. A small part of his brain asked what on earth he'd just said. It was secret! Something that he found difficult admitting even to himself. But... Like all the boys at the school, he'd found from experience - some of it very painful - that it was unwise to try and hide the truth from a teacher. Besides, Miss Stenton seemed to be pleased with him. "So Paul, here's what I'm going to do." Marjorie paused and gave the boy another squeeze. "I know you'd like to see Craig have his bottom spanked, so just before bed tonight I'm going to call him to my office and you can watch. Okay?" Paul frowned. The bedtime spankings were a common occurrence and hardly a day went by without someone arriving in the dormitory ten minutes late, rubbing their sore buttocks. Painful, yes, but nothing compared to a visit to the Headmistress. Like all the boys, he'd got so used to having his backside warmed, he accepted it without question. But allowed to watch? True, the teachers often spanked groups of boys together. Only a few weeks ago he'd found himself standing in line with two others boys in Miss Stenton's office, pyjama trousers round his ankles, waiting his turn to go over her knee. He grinned. His sore bottom had quickly been forgotten, but the water fight in the bathroom that had caused it certainly hadn't. That had been fun! But how could he watch? Craig would know who'd told on him and.... Marjorie read his mind and laughed. Paul's little manhood was now held firmly between her thumb and forefinger and she felt it soften. "No don't worry, Paul. I'll just tell Craig that another teacher saw him tripping up a boy and told me. Okay?" Paul nodded. He closed his eyes, then opened them. "But miss, if I'm there as well, won't Craig.... I mean....won't he know..I mean.." "Sshh, don't worry about that." She kissed his forehead and tickled his side lightly making him giggle. "I'll pretend that you've been naughty as well. That's why you're in my office. Okay?" She felt him relax. Her fingers had worked their magic and his rock hard penis throbbed in her hand. She shook her head. Incredible how he didn't notice! What a shame she hadn't removed his shorts first. "Of course Paul, we'll have to make sure that Craig thinks you've already been punished, won't we. How shall we do that, hmm?" Paul didn't answer at first. She repeated the question. "Miss?" "Well, you know that I always make you wait with your pyjama trousers down, and when Craig sees your bottom, he'll expect you to be punished after him. So we have to make it look like you've already had a spanking, don't we?" Paul yawned and nodded, dimly aware of the delicious tingling washing over his body. "So how can we make your bottom nice and red, Paul?" She saw him blush slightly and felt his penis jerk. "Well?" Paul bit his lip and looked at her shyly. "Er...spank it miss?" Marjorie laughed. "Okay Paul, that's a good idea. But not hard, I promise. Just enough to make it red. I think if I spank it for a longer time, but very lightly, it should make it red enough. What do you think?" Paul nodded again. Now that was a wicked idea! Craig would be completely fooled. He giggled. Miss Stenton was such a nice lady! Gosh, was that the time? Marjorie stood the boy up, trying not to look at the front of his tight shorts. The thin stretchy material was tented in a most obscene way. Hadn't it been Joyce who'd chosen the material years ago? What a genius! So thin and tight they left nothing to the imagination, yet stretchy and comfortable enough to disguise their true purpose. "Right young man, I have work to do. You seem perfectly okay now. How's your knee?" Paul bent the leg in question and touched his knee. He'd completely forgotten about it! "Okay I think... thank you miss.. er..." "Well, better get down to tea. I'll see you later. Run along!" She watched the young lad skip out of the dormitory, still blissfully unaware of what she'd done to him. Hopefully he would have lost his erection by the time he got to the hall!