The Apprentice

The Apprentice 8

By Terence

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This work is intended for ADULTS ONLY. It may contain depictions of sexual activity involving minors. If you are not of a legal age in your locality to view such material or if such material does not appeal to you, do not read further, and do not save this story.
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Chapter 8

St Cuthbert’s Punishment Ceremony

The girls arrived in a mini-van later that morning. I was supposed to welcome them to St Cuthbert’s along with Sue. Sue told them to get a shower in the gym showers and then get into fresh school uniforms. I then had to take them, through the theatre (which I, too, saw for the first time and which was certainly impressive in size), to a utility room behind the stage. Here, I had to give them a copy of the ‘programme’ each. I still remember the look on Nicole’s face as she was scanning the pages of the programme … but then the door fell shut and I locked it, leaving them by themselves for the next few hours. I had to get into a suit (provided by the school, and a bad fit), and then met up with Sue to go and see Dr Gove who was in the theatre overlooking the preparations. The student orchestra was rehearsing in what I could not believe was an actual orchestra pit, you know, like you get in opera houses. This was a seriously well-funded school!

Dr Gove was walking up and down the auditorium, checking that all was clean and orderly while wincing whenever the orchestra produced another dissonance that Elgar surely could not have intended. I felt sorry for the girls - surely, being beaten in front of a theatre full of adolescent and pre-pubescent males was bad enough - why did they also have to be subjected to the torture of this alleged music?

“I think we’re going to put on a decent show,” Dr Gove said, more to Sue than to me. “Having young Tom here do his first punishment ceremony adds a certain spice to the whole affair. Is the nurse ready for after? Yes? That’s good. Well, it’s all arranged then. Doors open in fifteen minutes … break a leg, everyone!”

As he walked off, I lingered for a while with Sue.

“I’ve been wondering, is what we are doing here legal?”

“Well,” she said with a grin, “corporal punishment is certainly allowed in private schools such as this one - it was only banned in state schools. Our schools’ joint legal department takes the view that, as long as parental consent is given when the student is enrolled, we are safe as far as the law is concerned. Nevertheless …” She hesitated. “Let’s just say that we don’t like journalists around here, and any that appear quickly disappear again …”

“You mean, they are killed?”

She laughed out loud. “No, of course not, this is not the Mob! But they are certainly encouraged not to print their stories. The schools have a special fund to buy stories on us only to bury them … the Heads take the view that the disciplinary regime is what makes our schools attractive to the sort of parents whose children we want here …”

As we were chatting, the doors opened and school-uniformed boys in their hundreds streamed in, trying to get to the best seats. The first two rows, however, were marked ‘reserved’. I found out later that night that the school invited alumni to attend these ceremonies in return for a donation, the expectation being that this be no less than £10,000. I was beginning to understand why the school had no financial problems …

The orchestra was, as far as I could tell, now playing Gilbert and Sullivan selections … I’m not a fan, normally, but that day I felt sorry for poor old Gilbert and Sullivan …

As the orchestra shrieked to a close, Dr Gove walked onto the stage, holding a microphone.

“Welcome to the first punishment ceremony of this academic year. As you all know, the schools in our network assist each other in discipline matters. Today it is our turn to assist our sister school, Chatterley Hall. Three of their students will tonight be subjected to well-deserved discipline and punishment, administered by our own disciplinarian, Miss Lockwood, alongside Chatterley’s newly qualified discipline officer, Mr Danvers. However, we are a community, and we all help each other in all things. For this reason, some of you will also be expected to help and assist in tonight’s ceremony. I will explain how this will happen at the appropriate juncture in the proceedings. First of all, let me introduce Mr Danvers who, though no older than some of you, has already finished school and has now started his first job as the in-house disciplinarian at Chatterley Hall. Sue shoved me onto the stage and I stumbled out, to a spattering of applause. I suddenly had this picture in my head, replacing Dr Gove with Kermit the frog introducing a new act, wiggling frantically while shouting ‘applause, applause!’ I shook my head to get rid of the image.

“So, Mr Danvers, you must be a bit of a child prodigy to have finished school while so young?”

Trick question. I had left after my O-levels, not having been good enough academically to allow me to stay on to attempt my A-levels, which would have opened the door to university and the professional world. But I just grunted affirmatively.

“How long have you been at Chatterley?”

“I started my apprenticeship just over a week ago.”

“Wow, and you are already in sole charge?”

“Well, let’s say that things did not happen as everybody expected, including myself.”

“And how many punishments have you administered so far?”

“Hmm, I have lost count. Certainly more than thirty, though. And I’ve been trained by Mr Furzton and now Miss Lockwood.”

“That sounds great. Well, good luck for your first punishment ceremony!”

Again, the Kermit impression as I left the stage.

“Now, what we are looking for are four strong lads from the upper sixth to basically be our stage hands tonight. We will need to move punishment frames onto and off the stage, secure the girls to it using leather cuffs, sometimes, if necessary, using force, and generally be helpful round the stage. Who would like to volunteer?”

Quite a few hands went up and Dr Gove selected four young men that had clearly worked out or rowed or something - their sinews were as iron bands if you know what I mean, and I would rather not encounter any of them in a dark alley …

The orchestra was now playing the introduction to the National Anthem, and as they massacred John Bull’s tune, Sue shoved me towards the utility room to get Anna. I got underway as the whole school broke into discordant song …

I unlocked the door and looked in. The girls were sitting in different corners, sullenly.

“Anna, it’s your turn. Please follow me!”

Anna sighed and got up. She followed me onto the stage and I told her where to stand - right centre stage, next to Dr Gove.

‘God save the Queen’ over, everyone apart from Dr Gove, the four helpers and Anna sat down.

“Let me introduce Anna Shylock. She is fifteen years of age and in Chatterley Hall’s Lower Fifth. She is weak academically and gets punished for that reason on a regular basis. However, she has never been punished during a punishment ceremony until now. She was asked to witness the punishment of one of her fellow students, Miss Culwether, whom we shall meet later on. When Miss Culwether went on to make outrageous allegations against the discipline officer in question, Miss Shylock backed her up. It was later shown that both students’ testimony was false, warranting their appearance here. Still, out of the three she is the least blameworthy and the sentence of the Panel was a mere 20 cane strokes followed by 20 whip lashes. I have decided that the cane will be applied to her panties, her skirt being lifted for this purpose …”

The audience groaned, having expected full nudity …

“… followed by 20 whiplashes on her bare back. I have asked her to take off her top facing the auditorium.”

Finally there was applause and cheering!

“I will now hand over to Miss Lockwood and her helpers!”

Two of the helpers were carrying a heavy stool onto the stage. When Anna failed to move toward it, the other two helpers stepped behind her and escorted her to the stool, pushing her upper body over it so that her waist came to be supported by it. Sue now lifted her skirt, revealing a pair of regulation white cotton panties. She raised the rather heavy number 4 cane and struck, using her usual, forceful technique. This immediately elicited a scream from Anna, drowned out by the cheering crowd. Sue waited for the tell-tale red line to form on those portions of Anna’s behind that were not covered by her panties before she struck a second time. By the time she was done, the skin around Anna’s panties was red with purple welts. Sue was the right woman for the job.

Now I was up. My heart was beating hard in my chest. Stage fright or excitement? Stage fright, I think. As I walked onto the stage, I caught the disapproving glances of some of the old men in the front row, the paying alumni. Two helpers were now righting Anna up and put her centre stage. She knew that she was now expected to take off her blouse and bra, but clearly could not bring herself to do this in front of all those leering eyes. Dr Gove coughed suggestively. She moved her left hand to her top button and froze.

“This disobedience calls for an escalation of five additional lashes”, commented Dr Gove from off-stage. “Will Miss Shylock please disrobe!”

Anna was still frozen.

Two helpers now moved behind her. At that threat, she started to unbutton her blouse and was soon just dressed in her skirt and bra. When she stopped again, Dr Gove ordered the helpers to take it off her by force, and they did, two holding her while a third slipped off her bra. They then secured her hands to cuffs that were dangling from the ceiling.

Dr Gove now gave voice again, struggling to make himself heard over all the cheering:

“This repeated disobedience calls for another escalation. There are two options that I am going to put to the vote: 1. Miss Shylock is stripped completely and then given 25 lashes on her back while facing the auditorium; 2. Miss Shylock is given ten additional lashes on her breasts. Show of hands for option 1, please!” ]

Anna was not exactly a looker, but these boys did not really get to see many girls naked (until very recently, I had been in exactly their position and knew what it was like). I was therefore expecting option 1 to win. I was surprised when hardly any hands went up to see Anna totally naked. Option 2 won hands down.

Dr Gove came over to where Sue and I were seated at the edge of the stage. “As young Tom isn’t qualified to whip her breasts, he’ll start on her back and Miss Lockwood will take over, ok?”

“Ok”, we both agreed.

And so, I had to ‘step up’. I grabbed the whip and stepped onto the stage. Anna was facing the auditorium, so everyone could see her breasts, but for the punishment she was supposed to be facing the other way. I was not sure how to bring this about. I need not have worried, however. The sophisticated stage equipment actually lifted her physically off her feet, turned the ropes around but then left her dangling, her feet just off the stage boards. She now presented me her white, somewhat pimply, back. I thought back to my lessons two days previously, pulled back and let her have it across her back. A loud ‘crack’ filled the auditorium. I glanced over at Sue. She was smiling broadly. Though I could not see it, Anna certainly wasn’t. She was screaming. And although some of my lashes did not land as successfully as that first one, she did not really stop until I had landed the twenty-fifth with another loud ‘crack’, followed by thunderous applause.

I stepped back into the shadows, watching, fascinated, how the ropes again did their magic and turned her body around, so that her breasts were now facing the audience again. I handed the whip to Sue who stepped onto the stage in hushed silence. Anna was by now sobbing and crying uncontrollably. Sue’s face was set hard. She took aim, raised the whip and pulled it through both of Anna’s breasts. An angry red line formed immediately. The next lash followed, and the next. Ten in all. Sue stepped back into the shadows, but the crying Anna was left to hang, facing the audience, her breasts covered in thin red lines.

And then, horror of horrors, the orchestra began to ‘play’ again! An ‘Enigma’ if ever there was one, why such a well-funded school had such an awful orchestra!

As the scraping finally came to an end, the ropes finally came down and were taken off Anna’s wrists. She was then not led off-stage, as she might have hoped, but downstage where, I only noticed now, there were six leather cuffs attached to the wall. Two of them secured her up against the wall, arms up as if she was holding them up. Her breasts and even the fine red lines on them were clearly visible to anyone in the auditorium.

The boys in the audience began chatting among themselves as nothing more appeared to be happening. Everybody was waiting for the next girl to be brought in. Then it occurred to me that the reason why this wasn’t happening was that I was the one who was supposed to fetch her! As I raced towards the utility room I actually tripped and fell, hurting my knee quite a bit, and causing great hilarity in the audience.

I quickly unlocked the door and called Nicole out. Head bowed, she followed me onto the stage.

Now Nicole was a beauty. Still is, as a matter of fact. But a picture of unblemished, innocent youth back then. The auditorium fell silent. The moment was somewhat ruined by Dr Gove’s misguided attempt at humour:

“Welcome, Miss Bielefeld, welcome! Or should I say ‘Willkommen’, as they say in your home country? Don’t be afraid - this is going to hurt me more than it’s going to hurt you! Only kidding, of course, it’s not going to hurt me at all and you quite a lot!”

A few toadies laughed, but other than that, the joke, such as it was, fell flat.

“Ok, be that as it may. We must get on. Gentlemen, this is Nicole Bielefeld. She has repeatedly got into trouble at Chatterley, collecting so many escalations as to make a Disciplinary Hearing inevitable. At the same time, she was deceitful and disrespectful to Mr Danvers on his first or second day in his new position. So she thoroughly deserves the punishment that is going to be visited upon her. Miss Bielefeld, please move into the auditorium and pick one young man who will accompany you onto the stage to take off your blazer!”

This was a bit silly. Only a few hands went up, and rather than point at someone, poor Nicole had to walk through the rows and take the relevant boy by the hand, asking him politely to come to the stage with her to take off her blazer!

But then things got more interesting, of course. She lost her blouse next, and had to walk quite a long way through the quite narrow rows of seats to pick the boy she had chosen to take off her skirt. When she had lost her bra, someone tripped her up as she was making her way through the row, and she fell across the boys’ legs (and groping hands). But then, finally, she was naked. She got to take off her own socks.

“Please now turn away from the audience and bend down, grabbing your ankles!”, Dr Gove ordered. “Your bottom does indeed look rather tender. Probably best to avoid option 1, involving 50 whacks with the paddle onto that very tender, or should I say tenderised, ha ha, flesh?”

Not only were the red and purple welts, inflicted by me, of course, very visible, her position also meant that both her holes were visible to the audience.

“Please remain in that position while we hear the first speech in favour of each option!”, ordered Dr Gove. Who would like to go first for option 1?

A pimply youth in the fourth row raised his hand and was chosen to speak.

“I say that Option 1 is by far the most painful, particularly given the state of her bottom. I have an almost scientific interest in what that bottom is going to look like after whacks with a paddle! Wow! And cane strokes on palms, soles and thighs must be exquisitely painful … She clearly deserves punishment, and this would be it. Particularly if the whole thing is rounded up by an astonishing 70 whiplashes with the BULLWHIP! Please, gentlemen, I urge you to vote ‘Option 1’!!’

A smattering of applause.

A tall, thin boy aged at least 17 got up to speak in favour of option 2:

“I hear what my colleague is saying and agree that those buttocks need to be punished - however, I am also interested to see those breasts whipped. And I agree that palms, soles and thighs need to be caned, too!”

Not very convincing, I thought. The third option had lots of potential advocates, and Dr Gove had to pick one, a rather overweight boy, maybe 15, with glasses:

“Option 3 is simply the most elegant. And it is fair: the bottom has had enough. It’s the turn of the other body parts!”

“Ok”, said Dr Gove. “That’s round one done. Miss Bielefeld can now get up and stand on the edge of the stage, hands by her sides, please.”

Nicole, relieved, got up, but quickly realised that standing on the edge of the stage was not ideal, either, from her point of view. There she was, small, on her own, naked. Her small breasts, her flat stomach, the reddish-blonde hair covering her sex - all in the glare of the 1200 male eyes in the auditorium.

“Round 2”, announced Dr Gove. “Who would like to speak for Option 1? No takers?”

Finally, a 16 year old blonde boy got up.

“I support Option 1 because I want to see the bullwhip at work! And because the paddle on that bruised bottom will hurt like hell!”

“Ok”, said Dr Gove. “Option 2?” But nobody seemed to want to speak for it.

“How about Option 3?”

Many hands went up. He picked a smallish boy with glasses. His voice had not broken, but he said, confidently:

“Her little bummy’s had enough, it’s time to strike some other bits;
Her little cunny might be tough, let’s also have her boobs some licks!”

I did not think this was exactly poetry, but it pleased the crowd. Nobody else came forward to speak, Option 3 won (it wasn’t even close) and Dr Gove had no choice but select the boy with classes, David Green, as his name turned out to be, as the best orator (while admonishing him for using bad language).

As David was getting out of his seat and climbed, broadly smiling, onto the stage, two helpers had guided Nicole to the centre of the stage and cuffed her to the ropes suspended from the ceiling. Like Anna before her, she was pulled up by her arms until she was herself suspended from the ceiling, with her big toes only just able to touch the stage boards.

Sue was giving young David some advice on how to use the whip just off-stage, and this caused some delay, while Nicole was hanging by her hands.

After a few minutes he stepped out to applause, looking rather less confident than before. I knew why - whips are tricky things!

It turned out that David’s trepidations had been warranted - his attempt at whipping Nicole’s back was a disaster. When he did connect, he did so with so little force that it would not have hurt at all. There was just one lash that cracked, and a red line immediately showed on Nicole’s back.

I was hoping to do better, to show him how it was done, so when my turn came I was somewhat disappointed that Sue took David backstage for some more practice. My own training had been useful - from first to last lash did I make the whip crack and the student scream. At each scream, the crowd cheered. At the end, there were 26 regularly spaced lines on her back. A job well done, and I even got applause from the audience. It felt good.

I knew I wasn’t going to administer any more of Nicole’s whipping - I wasn’t ‘qualified’ to whip breasts or vulvas (and yet David was allowed to whip her there, so much for logic) - so I now relaxed somewhat into the role of a spectator. The rope pulley system in the theatre was so sophisticated (remember this was the mid-80s) that it was able to lift her up and turn her around without even un-cuffing her. She was now facing the audience, and they could again enjoy her full frontal nudity. Tears were still rolling down her cheeks, but she had recovered her composure somewhat.

Again, the delay was rather long, and this time not caused by me: David was still having his whipping lesson off-stage. After about another five minutes he finally appeared, looking even more scared than before. Hell, he looked more scared than Nicole!

Nervously, he raised the whip. Nicole shut her eyes. His arm came down, there was a loud crack, Nicole screamed. He had hit her squarely across both breasts, just above the areolae. The crowd cheered. A lucky hit? No - as it turned out, Sue was an even better teacher than I had thought, or he was a quick study - the next lash was just as loud, and now lines were beginning to appear across her breasts. He did not let up, whipping her in regular, well-paced intervals. The boys were now counting, drowning out Nicole’s screams …

When Sue took over, I had the distinct feeling she was going easy on Nicole … she certainly did not hit any harder than David had done, but I guess that was hard enough. Nicole’s breasts were just a sea of red stripes at the end.

I was expecting Nicole to be put on a punishment horse for the next part of the punishment. But apparently the rope pulley system was up to this challenge, too: Two more ropes descended from he ceiling above the stage, and these were attached to Nicole’s ankles with leather ropes (they were definitely leather, with traditional buckles and holes - I don’t think velcro had even been invented then). She was now effectively suspended from the ceiling, being held in mid air by four ropes attached to her wrists and ankles. Her upper body was slightly higher, so that her red breasts were still visible to all. But now the ropes holding her ankles were moving apart, spreading her legs. Through her pubic hair, her slit was becoming visible, and yet the ropes kept moving, splitting her legs impossibly far. She was clearly already in some discomfort, and the humiliation was extreme, as her bottom hole was also becoming visible now. The crowd were mesmerised.

And up stepped their hero, young David, clasping the whip with new-found confidence. Nicole’s vulva presented a clear target, and he wasn’t going to miss. Dr Gove announced, by way of a reminder, that David would now administer the first 25 of 50 lashes onto Nicole’s ‘sex’, and then he began. CRACK! Nicole screamed. “ONE!”, the unforgiving, pitiless chorus of the boys. CRACK! Another scream, drowned out by the crowd’s “TWO!”

23 lashes later, David proudly stepped down. Dr Gove stepped onto the stage and had a close look at Nicole’s crotch - whether for his own edification or out of real concern for her welfare, we will never know - but then gave the go-ahead to Sue, who was, again, rather gentle on Nicole.

When it was over, Dr Gove told Nicole to sit downstage, next to where Anna was already standing, half-clad, and that, after the ceremony, she was obliged to open her legs for anyone who asked so that they could inspect the effect of the whip on her labia.

And then, horror! The sound of a tuning orchestra as Nicole limped downstage. We were about to be treated to ‘Land of Hope and Glory’!

At least I could go and get Emily and lead her onto the stage. She threw concerned glances to the half-naked Anna and the naked, and clearly bruised, Nicole. Then she stood in her blue school blazer and prim blouse and shirt at the edge of the stage, waiting for the inevitable, all the while having to listen to the discordant scrapings and pipings of the so-called ‘orchestra’.

Then it was over.

“Welcome, Miss Culwether, to this ceremony. Let me introduce you to the pupils of our school. Miss Culwether was being punished by the previous disciplinarian at Chatterley and thereafter made unfounded allegations of having been sexually abused. That is a very serious offence, as you will all agree. The punishment will fit the crime, focusing on her sexual organs and seeking to humiliate her as much as possible.”

He looked, feigning surprise, at Emily who was still standing at the edge of the stage, auburn hair, red lips, slim body and all.

“Why are you still dressed? Clearly, the instruction was that you get undressed as soon as the music stopped …?”

She looked surprised. “Sorry, I thought while you were talking …”

“Don’t think! Get undressed! I will have to add an escalation to your punishment, I’m afraid.”

Given that the punishments planned were already beyond horrible, Emily lost it at this point, screaming at him:

“Sorry, I will not participate in your sex and sadism show! This is so beyond the pale! No way am I going to be a victim here!”

She turned and ran off the stage but had not realised that the (only) door was guarded by two helpers, who grabbed her and, following Dr Gove’s frantic gestures, dragged her back onto the stage, where they were joined by their other two colleagues. She was still kicking, scratching and biting, but the helpers were getting her under control between the four of them, holding on to a leg or arm each.

“I am afraid we will have to forcibly undress her,” Dr Gove said to Sue and me. “Can you get the punishment frame onto the stage - probably best to secure her to this asap.”

I was going to ask why we couldn’t just use the ropes we had used for Nicole, but he was gone, directing the helpers in their efforts to undress her. Sue and I went into a room backstage and wheeled the heavy punishment frame onto the stage. Dark oak, padded with red leather, this was the Chesterfield among punishment frames. The four boys had her down to her underwear now, but she was still resisting fiercely. They finally slammed her across the frame, and put a leather strap across her midriff. One of the helpers had in the meantime taken off her bra, but her breasts weren’t visible from the audience as they were pressed against the leather of the punishment horse.

Dr Gove instructed the boys to leave her underpants on for now, while everyone was catching their breath, and came over to Sue and me for a quick consultation. He was fuming with rage.

“Never in my 30 years of teaching has anything like this happened to me. We need to react. This cannot be allowed to stand. Any suggestions?”

I preserved a dignified silence, but fortunately Sue was full of ideas.

“Well, the original plan, with her picking boys to punish her, seems moot. So we’ll need something in place of the humiliation that that would have involved. But we’ll have to add escalations, too.”

“You are right,”, said Dr Gove, “we’ll do that. But she will also have to attend another Disciplinary Panel which will review the full facts and impose an additional, independent punishment. So what do you suggest for now?”

“How about after each punishment, now given in full by one of us, we select a volunteer who will spank her with his hand. That will not only be humiliating, but straight after a paddling, caning or whipping very painful. Say half the number of whacks again?”

“Good thinking”, Dr Gove said. “And I’ll lift the injunction on touching after the ceremony in her case. They can all touch her to their hearts’ content …”

I felt compelled to get involved: “We don’t want a riot. I suggest we do this row by row, or even half row by half row.”

“Good point, Tom. That’s the way we’ll do it.”

He walked onto the stage and explained the new programme to the many boys and few men. It met with universal approval - with the exception of Emily, one assumes. Dr Gove invited one of the men in the front row to take off Emily’s panties - her legs were still free, and she managed to kick the man in the shoulder as he was trying to slide them off her. He seemed quite badly hurt.

Dr Gove lost it at this point: “Ok, young lady, that’s it. I will personally give evidence to the Disciplinary Panel and convince them of the harshest possible penalty!’

Her legs were now secured to the frame, she was pretty much immobile. I realised that it was now my job to paddle her ten times. The first time I used the paddle on a non-dummy and it had to be in front of an audience of 400 people!

She tried hard to keep her composure, but the last three whacks (I put my weight into them) got her to make some grunting noises, but no screams.

When I was done, Dr Gove announced that only students who had never received discipline at the school need raise their hands to volunteer to spank Emily’s bottom. As a result, mostly very young boys raised their hands. The one Dr Gove selected was around 12, thin, blond. His classmates were laughing their heads off as he clowned his way onto the stage and tapped the sixteen year old’s bottom five times. It was a big joke to him.

Then I was up again, with the number 4 cane. She quickly lost her composure and was screaming her head off. The paddle had given her bottom a nice purple colour, but now the cane added angry red welts. I was quite out of breath when the 40 strokes were done.

Dr Gove stepped onto the stage: “Now, the next volunteer should not have had any grade worse than B in the past 12 months, and be at least 14 years old.”

There were a fairly large number of hands going up. Clearly a school with high academic standards. Or lots of liars …
“Ok, let’s narrow it down further. Please lower your hand if the grade on your last test was a B rather than an A”.

Still, more than 20 hands remained up.

“Lower your hand if you have been sent to see Miss Lockwood in the past year.”

Only five hands remained up, and Dr Gove made his choice from among them. The boy he chose was roughly my age, and he came to the stage looking solemn. He took up his position and started slapping Emily’s bottom, alternating cheeks, steadily and regularly, twenty times. She was still at first, but started moaning half way through.

Next, logistical problems had to be faced. All seven of us, that is, Sue, myself, Dr Gove and the four helpers untied her, turned her around (Sue let go to adjust the frame), laid her back on the frame on her back and secured her again. She was again doing everything she could to resist, but to no avail. The back panel of the frame could be adjusted so that she was seated, facing the auditorium. Her breasts were easily accessible to the whip, which Sue now grabbed.

However, Dr Gove stopped her.

“I have just thought of another escalation, given she resisted again. Instead of the whip, use the number 2 cane!”

Sue thought this was a great idea. Emily disagreed. She was screaming blue murder in protest. But to no avail. Sue raised the cane and struck her across both breasts. Again. And again. The crowd cheered and counted. After 30 strokes, Emily’s breasts were blue and she was in tears.

Dr Gove asked the four remaining volunteers from the last round to raise their hands again.

“Lads, can you agree among yourselves who would like to slap her breasts and who would prefer her sex?”

As it happened, two preferred the former, two the latter.

“Marvellous. So the two breast men get to slap one breast each, 15 times. Come on up.”

So they each took position to Emily’s right and left, and then took turns slapping her breasts. She was now crying continuously.

The frame was then adjusted: the backrest was tilted back, so that Emily was lying down. Her legs were then secured behind her head, so that she was presenting her open vulva to the auditorium in the most obscene way possible. Sue stepped forward, holding the no 2 whip. As she was walking onto the stage, Dr Gove took the no 2 whip from her and replaced it with the no 4 - quite a heavy whip - and winked at her.

The auditorium was now deadly quiet. Just the low sobbing of the naked girl strapped to a punishment frame with her legs spread was audible.

Sue raised the whip over her head. Someone shouted: “Let her have it good!”. There was some laughter, some shushing. Like a tennis-player disturbed by someone in the crowd as she was about to serve, Sue lowered the whip again and cast a disapproving glance into the heckler’s direction.

The room quietened down again. Again, she raised her whip. Emily had her eyes closed. Sue kept her arm open for what seemed like an eternity. Then she brought it down. The tail of the whip connected with Emily’s most tender flesh with a loud CRACK. Emily, now wide-eyed in horror, screamed. The auditorium erupted in cheers, catcalls and applause.

Sue was patient. She had time. She waited for the din to subside, and even for Emily’s screaming to turn into quiet sobbing again. Only then, at least a minute later, did she strike a second time. Again, a heartrending scream from Emily, not quite as loud a reaction as before from the audience, which also got quiet again sooner. So the intervals between strikes got shorter, but Sue always waited at least 10 seconds before she struck again. As the strokes accumulated, it was clear that they were having an effect on Emily’s labia, they got red and became swollen. After 30 lashes they were red and purple and clearly not in a good state at all.

Sue joined me next to the stage again and Dr Gove invited the two boys who had ‘volunteered’ to help punish Emily to come up onto the stage. They seemed rather scared by her lacerated genital flesh, and caressed her more than they slapped her. Still, she screamed every time their hands made contact with her crotch area.

Afterwards, as the orchestra was again playing Gilbert & Sullivan selections, Dr Gove and the four helpers wheeled the frame to the back wall of the stage. A rope was then put around a metre away from the girls.

Dr Gove then addressed the audience one last time:

“The official part of our ceremony is now concluded. All three Chatterley students will be available for closer visual inspection for the next 30 minutes. If you would like to touch Miss Culwether, please remain or return to your seat. In 30 minutes, the rope will be removed and we will call you five at a time by row number.”

Dr Gove then told the helpers to organise things while he asked us to accompany him to his office for a debriefing.

“Thank you very much, you too. I think it would be great to have disciplinarians from other schools attend these ceremonies in future … it adds a bit of variety and injects new ideas. I am going to suggest this at the next meeting of our schools’ heads. I thought it worked really well having Mr Danvers there. I shall now write to Mrs Cruickshank explaining what happened and asking for another DP for Miss Culwether, given her outrageous behaviour. It was a pleasure to meet you, young Tom, I hope to see you again soon. It is too late for you to return to Chatterley - we will arrange for a car to take you back tomorrow morning, say at 7:30? So that you’re in time for work?”

I agreed, and Sue and I left the presence. I was seriously horny and was looking for a nice wank back in my luxurious suite.

Sue looked at her watch. “I think I’ll sleep in school, too. Missed the last bus home. Care to join me for a drink?”

I had watched Hollywood movies as much as the next person. I knew what this meant! She was turned on, too, and wanted sex! So I eagerly agreed and followed her to her room. I should have said ‘rooms’, for there were several. I did not see why she would ever want to go home. If the guest room I was staying in was luxurious, this was five times better.

“Wine, beer, gin, whisky? Oh, hang on, you’re only 16, I forgot …”

“A beer will be fine, thanks”.

She poured me one, with a wink.

I winked back and more or less quaffed the glass in one. Thirsty work, caning and whipping girls.

“So, did you enjoy today? Or did you think we went a bit far?”, she asked.

“Well, this certainly went further than I have ever gone, or have seen Mr Furzton go.”, I replied. “I must admit that it was a massive turn-on.”

I moved a bit closer to her on the sofa. I was really hoping she, as the more experienced of us, would make the first move.
“So how did you land this gig?”, she asked me. “It’s a sort of unusual career choice …”

“Well, my dad was very secretive about it. Said he had arranged an apprenticeship for me, to learn a proper trade … I thought I was going to be the caretaker’s apprentice or something. I never dreamt it was going to be this …”

“Interesting sense of humour, your dad.”

“And how did you get into this line of work?”, I asked her back.

“Oh, I applied. I have always been a bit kinky, if you know what I mean, and when I saw the advert, I applied. There was an interview, and then I was apprenticed to my predecessor, Mrs Stern. Nomen est omen!”

The Latin was lost on me, and it showed on my face.

“'The name tells you about the person’, would be a loose translation.”

“Ha, that’s true for your name, too! Lockwood! Ha, ha!”

She did not seem to find this funny.

“Hmm. I hadn’t thought of that. I guess you’re right. Ha ha.”

“I wouldn’t mind you locking my wood. You’re seriously hot, you know.”

She suddenly went very cold and hostile.

“This is very disappointing. I thought we could keep this professional. You are sixteen, for god’s sake. Please leave. And leave the beer here. Big mistake, alcohol and little boys.”

I was mortified. I got up and stormed out. She’d ruined everything. Even the wank I’d so been looking forward to. I had found out the hard way what they mean by the phrase ‘blue balls’. Or so I thought.

(End of File)