The Apprentice

The Apprentice 9 and 10

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 9

Back at home...

I did not really get much sleep and had basically just passed out when I got my wake up call. No time to use the nice shower, just get dressed and into the car that took me back to Chatterley. There were two girls waiting outside my ‘office’, which was odd, but I found a note on my desk saying that quite a lot of work had accumulated while I’d been away, and that I should start with two girls before school even started … helpfully, their file entries had already been completed, I would be dealing with 15 year old Patricia (Trish - 5 paddle whacks on skirt) and 14 year old Kelly (10 swishes with the number 1 cane on hands).

I asked them into the waiting room and took Trish with me first. I knew where the paddles were kept, and since the file entry did not say what paddle, I chose the heaviest. I was in a mean mood … I asked if she wanted to be restrained … she declined.

I got her to bend over the standard stool, raised the paddle and let her have it. It almost knocked her over, stool and all, and, in order to stay upright, she got up and took a few steps back.

“You chose poorly when you asked not to be restrained. Please take off your skirt and underpants and then let me restrain you.”

“But I just …”

“No ‘buts’, you did not keep the position. That means you lose the protection of clothes. You knew this. I offered to restrain you. Do as I say or it’s a Disciplinary Panel for you. Don’t tempt me.”

The threat worked. She unbuttoned her skirt and took it off, then slid down her panties, the whole time facing away from me. I beckoned her towards the ‘special’ frame and tied her down securely. I then adjusted the frame so as to spread her legs, affording me a great view of her vulva and bottom hole. I then swung the paddle against her bottom with great force, again, and again, and again. And again, and again. I had hit her once too often, I realised.

“I was only supposed to get five …”, she complained, as I was unstrapping her.

“You are right, I miscounted. I am sorry …”

“I’m afraid sorry isn’t good enough. I’m going to report you!”

“Oh come on! Let’s just say you’ve got one whack banked up for the next time!”

“No way!”

And she grabbed her clothes and stormed out. Not a good start to the day …

With this shadow over me my heart wasn’t in it when I was punishing Kelly. I asked if she wanted it all on her non-dominant hand or five swishes on each.

“Can I decide after the first five?”, she whispered.

“Of course.” She held out her left hand and I pulled the thin cane through it five times. She gasped after each but did not cry out and asked me to continue on the same hand. I did. I didn’t miscount. She left.

I was still nervous about Trish and thought it best to pre-empt any unpleasantness by telling Mrs Lodenheim about it. She was typing in her office and I asked if I could speak with her.

“Of course, Mr Danvers. What’s the trouble?”

“Well, I miscounted when I was punishing Patricia this morning - I paddled her one too many times.”

“Oh dear. But these things happen. I’ll make a note and we’ll deduct something appropriate from her next punishment. Is that all?”

“Yes,” I sighed, relieved.

“Oh, you were worried about that? No need. Mistakes happen. Don’t give it another thought. You have quite a lot of catch-up work to do. How did you like St Cuthbert’s?”

“Impressive school. I learned a lot.”

“Yes, and I see that Emily is straight back in for a DP? Tut, tut. Dr Gove seemed very urgent about it, he’s coming over this afternoon and wants the hearing today. She must have really misbehaved …?”

“Well, she resisted and kicked an alumnus in the shoulder …”

“Oh dear, I can see where he’s coming from then. Anyway, you’d better get back. We’ve scheduled punishments during lesson time so you can work your way through the backlog. I think you’re expecting Amelie in ten minutes …”

Amelie? Seriously?

“Ok, I’d better get back then. Didn’t realise.”

I raced back to the punishment suite and had a look at the next file. It was indeed Amelie’s. She had had a failed Latin test returned on my first day away. There was an instruction that four escalations were therefore required, although the actual punishment her Latin teacher called for was just three whacks with the paddle on her skirt. She wasn’t due for another fifteen minutes (Mrs Lodenheim had got the time wrong), so I entered her into the computer.

NB: With this many visits in seven days, convening a Disciplinary Panel is strongly recommended.

If the student shows contrition and proposes a punishment that is, in the view of the disciplinarian, sufficiently severe, she may be spared a hearing on this occasion, however.

No guidance at all, in other words. I knew that I did not want Amelie before a panel. Something might slip out inadvertently and get me into trouble. So I was hoping for the best as I heard her knock on the door. I called her in. She seemed very nervous.

“Ok, Amelie, I am surprised to see you again. Sorry to have to say that you incurred your punishment at a time when it meant five slips in six days. This can be very serious. But before I decide what to do, why don’t you tell me your side of it and suggest what you think would be appropriate?”

“Ok, I know I messed up. So badly. And I know that I should be sent before a Panel. But I have heard some of what happened at St Cuthbert’s and would just die if that happened to me. So if there is any way to avoid that …”

She paused, expecting me to say something. But I stayed silent and just looked at her intently.

“Also, I have been meaning to apologise for touching you inappropriately last time I was here. It was uncalled for and wrong. You should punish me for that, on top of whatever other punishment you want to give me.”
I still stayed silent.

“I am sorry. You need me to suggest something. I have heard that some pupils get punished every other day for a period of time. Would that be possible?”

I nodded, noncommittally.

“How about I attend every other day after school and receive the most serious punishment you had to administer the two days prior?”

I just looked at her, making her even more nervous.

“Including any escalations, of course. I mean, not the most serious baseline punishment, but after escalations are added on.”

Still, I just kept looking at her.

“Of course, I’ll have to be naked for all punishments, even if that was not part of the most serious punishment.”

She saw in my face that I was getting close to agreeing, and continued: “And you would, of course, have the right to touch me wherever and however you decide appropriate, and I will do whatever you order me to do. And, to punish me for my inappropriate behaviour last time, I will be whipped twenty times on my breasts and twenty times between my legs. Ok?”

“Ok, that sounds reasonable. We’ll leave your last two suggestions off the books, as it were. But let’s write down the rest of the punishment regime and I will seek approval from the Head.” 
I paraphrased what she had suggested, leaving out the touching, breast and vulva whipping, in an entry in her file, signed it and got her to sign it, too.

“So, today will be all about you touching me without permission the last time.”

She nodded.

“Please get undressed.”

She obeyed. Her hands were shaking as she unbuttoned her school blouse. She then very quickly and matter-of-factly got out of her skirt, panties and bra, finally standing naked before me.

“Ok, before I execute the punishment I’ll test your obedience. The file is still here with me, we can still rip it up, you know. Turn around slowly on the spot.”

She did - having raised her hands above her head so as to cover no part of herself. As I was watching her, I cursed to myself that this had to happen with one of the least attractive girls that I had punished so far. If only I had Nicole or Emily at this point …

As she was facing away from me in her spin, I told her to stop and bend over, grab her bottom cheeks and pull them apart. She hesitated, but then did as I had told her. I was pleased that she clearly had great personal hygiene.

“Now sit on this seat”, I pointed at the padded stool, “and spread your legs as wide as you can.”

Again, she hesitated briefly, but then did what I had asked. Even though she had thick pubic hair, her slit was now clearly visible.

“So will you answer some questions for me?”

She nodded.
“Do you masturbate?”

She nodded, bashfully.

“How often?”

“Well, I share a room with three others, so not very often.”

“Have you heard the other girls masturbate at night?”

“Sometimes.”

“And that’s how you do it, too? On the sly?”

“Yes.”

“Show me.”

By now, the reader will have realised, I had decided that I was going to have some sort of sex with this girl, come what may. I could not take any more …

As she was awkwardly rubbing her vulva, I moved behind her and started to massage her breasts from behind. That felt so good! I was so excited, by penis was hurting in my jeans. I let go of her breasts and moved back to face her.

“I now give you express permission to touch me!”

But she just looked at me and continued touching herself.

“Open my jeans and take out my penis!”, I ordered her explicitly.

She looked at me, somewhat abashed, but then I felt her hands as they opened my belt and undid the top button. They were Levi’s 501 jeans, and had buttons all the way down. Damn! She was struggling with them, all the while rubbing the heavy fabric against my dick. Finally she had them all open, pulled them down - and I came! Into my boxers. I was mortified. She was all apologetic, said she was just so inexperienced, didn’t know what she was doing, but for me everything was ruined. This was so embarrassing! How was I going to get past this?

“No, don’t apologise, it’s my fault, I overstepped the mark. It is I who should apologise. I am sorry. Don’t worry about your punishment, just get dressed and please don’t tell anyone about this!”

“I won’t, I promise. I’ll see you in two days for my regular punishment, then. Bye.”

She grabbed her clothes and went back into the waiting room, where I assumed she got dressed.

There were three more files on my desk, three more appointments. How was I going to get through them?

Chapter 10

Recovery

I somehow got through my appointments that morning. I was all caught up by lunchtime, and there were two more (first time) visitors to take care of then. The paddle was the instrument of choice for the Chatterley teachers, usually just two or three whacks on skirts. When I was done, I received a phone call from Mrs Lodenheim asking me to join Emily’s disciplinary panel that afternoon and could I come over for a preliminary meeting (and that I shouldn’t forget the files of the girls I had seen that day).

That included, of course, Amelie’s file. I thought long and hard about it, but then included it in the bundle that I handed over to Mrs Lodenheim. The meeting consisted of two alumnae, a teacher, Mr Collins, and the Head. There were two more members of the panel to join us later, Dr Gove and Sue. I wasn’t too pleased about that, given the way she had rebuffed me the night before. In a way, I blamed her for my disaster with Amelie.

“Welcome, all”, the Head started the meeting. “I thought it was a good idea to discuss among ourselves from Chatterley before we convene the panel proper. Mrs Lodenheim will be joining us in a minute, not sure what’s keeping her. But just to explain: Dr Gove, the Head of St Cuthbert’s, has taken the extraordinary step to call for a Disciplinary Meeting on one of our pupils, Emily Culwether. She was being punished at St Cuthbert’s for making a false allegation of sexual abuse against Mr Furzton. Apparently there was some misbehaviour on her part during the ceremony - and I just thought we’d get Mr Danvers’ views on this. He was present and in fact actively involved in the ceremony.”

At this point, Mrs Lodenheim came in, carrying a file and a notepad. She joined us at the Head’s round conference table.

“So, Mr Danvers, can you tell us what happened, in general and particularly in Emily’s case?”

“Well, I thought the whole ceremony was much tougher than what I was used to, or rather getting used to, here. Particularly that punishments were administered on breasts and genitals I found surprising.”

“Well,” Mrs Cruickshank said, “I agree that these punishments are unusual, but remember that punishment ceremonies are very much the exception. It is something we only resort to in extremis. And they need to have a strong deterrent effect. So you thought that Emily’s behaviour was forgivable in the circumstances?”

“Well, she refused to take an active part in her own humiliation and severe punishment. I didn’t blame her. But Dr Gove, of course, takes a different view. I am sure he wants her back at St Cuthbert’s for round 2.”

One of the alumnae now intervened: “I would be opposed to this. As you rightly said, Mrs Cruickshank, these ceremonies are meant to be used in extremis - in other words, not every other week, or even every other day!”

Everybody made agreeing noises.

“Well, that’s very well,” said the Head. “But Dr Gove is going to be pressing us to impose a severe punishment. Any ideas, ladies? And gentleman?” she added apologetically.

There was silence. I, for one, found it deeply embarrassing to discuss punishments with a table full of (fairly) old ladies.

Then Mrs Lodenheim intervened: “If I could make an observation, or even a suggestion?”

“Of course, Mrs Lodenheim, while you’re not on the panel, your contributions are very welcome as always.”
“Well, I was perusing the files that Mr Danvers filled in this morning. One girl visited him for the fifth time in seven days, resulting in a strong recommendation to convene a panel from the computer. But he avoided this, in my view wisely, and possibly under the impression of what he saw at our sister school. He got the girl to agree to a punishment regime involving punishments after school every other day, with the punishment (always in the nude) mirroring the most severe punishment meted out during the previous two days, including escalations. We could impose a similar regime on Emily for the rest of the school year. It would mean quite a lot of extra work for Mr Danvers, of course …”

“Mr Danvers, what do you think?”, asked the Head.

“Well …” I obviously thought that the idea was great. But I did not want to appear over-eager. “Work is what I am paid for. So no objection from me.”

“Ok, then. That’s going to be our recommendation and we should be able to convince the other two. If not, we outvote them!”, said the Head with a smile. “Ok, they should be here any minute. Better not mention that we had this prior meeting, eh?”

We reconvened in a conference room and were joined by Dr Gove and Sue. Dr Gove was indeed intent on having another punishment ceremony just for Emily at St Cuthbert’s, and soon, and Sue provided all sorts of pedagogical and sociological arguments why that would be a good idea. He balked at our counter-proposal.

“You are sparing the rod and spoiling the brat”, he said, not quite as wittily as he no doubt thought that was.

“Most day-to-day punishments, even with escalations, are bound to be mild affairs … the deterrent effect is negligible. I will seriously have to think about any future co-operation with Chatterley Hall if circumstances here have changed so drastically …!”

Our Head looked concerned at this.

“Let’s think about this like adults.”, she said. “We are talking regular sessions on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. How about we focus on bottom and back on Mondays - say 20 cane strokes and 20 whiplashes - breasts and sex on Wednesdays - say 20 lashes on each, leaving the Friday for a rerun of the most severe punishment meted out all week. Would that be acceptable to you?”

Dr Gove looked doubtful. He cast me a glance. “Agreed, but on condition that Mr Danvers can, should there be any resistance or unacceptable behaviour, trigger a punishment ceremony at St Cuthbert’s for which I will design the programme in consultation with Miss Lockwood. And also that the entire panel as constituted here be present for the first three punishments.”

“Yes, that should be acceptable”, said our Head. “Mrs Lodenheim, please call in Emily.”

Emily went even paler when she heard what her fate was to be, and that the threat of another ceremony was still hanging over her.

“Do you have any questions?”, asked the Head.

“When will it start?”, she asked.

“Well, we thought next week would be best. Giving you a chance to heal. No more questions? No? Well, thanks everyone!”

The next two days were fairly light. Word about the ceremony had spread, and it had had its desired deterrent effect. However, I had been warned by the maths teacher, Mrs Darnborn, that, on Wednesday, she would be returning maths tests to the lower Fifth that had been particularly poor and told to keep myself ready. Inwardly, I was bubbling over with excitement about Emily’s punishment regime and the possibilities this opened up for me. At the same time, of course, I was seething at the embarrassment I had suffered with Amelie.

As I got back to my office, there was a gift bag dangling from the doorknob. I curiously took it inside and opened it. There was a (rather naughty Valentine’s) card inside, a book, and a small box of chocolates (Cadbury’s ‘Hearts’). The book was ‘Lieutenant Hornblower’, the second in the series of Hornblower novels I had just started. The card was unsigned, but I knew, of course, that only two people could be behind this: the sixty-three-year-old librarian (unlikely) and Amelie! I was about to throw the gift bag into the bin when I noticed that there was something else in it, something that had got wedged in at the bottom: four condom wrappers (containing condoms)!

I looked at them, mesmerised. Amelie was coming on rather strong, but I really didn’t mind! I now could not wait until the next day, when I was due to see her again for the start of our regular (punishment?) sessions …

As I was contemplating a bright future, there was a knock on the door. I quickly removed all traces of Amelie’s generosity and opened it. There were no fewer than ten girls waiting outside, bearing slips with Mrs Darnborn’s signature on it. Back to work!

(End of File)