Bad Girl

She stood with head bowed in front of the Headmaster's desk, flanked by the head girl and her crony of a deputy. Her heart was pounding and she was very scared indeed.

Anya had only been at this institution for a short time, but already she was finding that the discipline was like no other she had come across. She had heard of canings, and rumours of more, -whole areas of the school were out of bounds, and no one seemed prepared to tell her anything, except to mutter, "Don't ask!" - but she hadn't believed them.

And breaking curfew and school bounds to meet her boyfriend last night hadn't worried her either, - she was nearly 19 after all, far from being a child, and curfews did NOT apply to her! - But the sickness in the pit of her stomach told its own tale, she was worried now.

She wondered vaguely how she had come to be in this situation, standing scared before a teacher. She had never been scared of them before.

The truth of the matter was that she had already been expelled from one school in her youth, and no college or university was prepared to accept her, so this was her last chance to gain any sort of qualifications.

She had done nothing useful for the last 2 years, and was in danger of drifting into the pattern that was all around her.

Young mothers with prams full of snotty nosed brats, pimply youths for husbands, no hope, and content to take handouts and sit watching TV, bemoaning their lot, convinced that the world owed them a living.

The final straw came when Anya was caught handling stolen property. Although the police decided not to press charges, her aunt had been furious, and issued an ultimatum.

Either Anya would agree to going to her old college and gain some qualifications, or she would wipe her hands of her totally. She would have no roof over her head any longer, and no money. The thought of being homeless scared her, and she agreed. A visit to a solicitor was arranged, and Anya found herself signing a contract to that effect, stating she was going of her own free will, and would consent to being taught in "Whatever subjects and manner the school saw fit", words which seemed innocuous at the time.

Her aunt, who had also been the one who had raised her, had been head girl here in her youth, and had obviously used what influence she had to get Anya accepted, although she was far older than was usual for a new girl. Being a modern day equivalent of a finishing school though, meant that she would not be the oldest by any means. Several girls – young women really – remained until their early 20's.

There were provisos of course. It had been decided that she should have no contact with her home, including her aunt and her friends, for the whole of the first year. All part of 'breaking the cycle of inappropriate behaviour' as she was continually hearing from her aunt.

Anya wasn't much bothered by this at first, as her friends had been for the most part quite dim, content to get drunk and hang around the shops or games arcades. She had soon tired of the tedium of being with them and doing nothing.

So not being allowed contact with them was no great hardship.

And her aunt was an odd woman, whom Anya felt no great affection for, so would hardly miss. But the curfews, and the curtailment of any outside interests, they had sat hard with her. As had the wearing of a uniform. At 18 she considered herself above such schoolgirl nonsense. However, the removal of her own clothes upon arrival left her little choice. It was the uniform, or nakedness. She had allowed herself a small smile, imagining the shock on her teacher's faces should she choose the latter! However, having met them, she was now no longer sure that her antics would provoke the shock she'd first imagined. The tutors here were probably used to such tactics and would insist upon her completing her lessons in the nude. Not such a pleasant thought after all.

But she contrived to make her contempt of the uniform obvious. Her white shirt was often unbuttoned with her tie askew and she managed to hitch her skirt higher than it should be. She had been allowed to keep her own underwear, but her vividly coloured and saucy push-up bras obviously hadn't been designed with white shirts in mind, and further accentuated her often-sluttish appearance.

She wasn't a stupid girl, or a particularly bad one, and certainly not a promiscuous one, she was just headstrong, and saw no reason to do anything other than what she wanted to do. Of course, she admitted to herself reluctantly, if she HAD followed the rules and behaved as was required, she would not be in this predicament now.

The Headmaster was a slim man, quiet spoken, fairly short, certainly not imposing in any way to the casual glance. But when you were being addressed directly by him, and he was staring straight into your eyes.... then you felt the true measure of the man. He was not to be ignored or treated flippantly. You gave him respect if you knew what was good for you. She studied him from beneath her lowered lashes as he sat there, steepling his fingers and smiling a little cruel-looking smile...

"If you wish to act like a cheap tramp we can arrange something I'm sure" he sneered, bringing a flush to her cheeks and a retort to her lips

"I am NOT a tramp, how DARE you talk to me like that!" she felt anger vie with the fear and her head snapped up and she stepped forward, only to be instantly grabbed by Tweedledum and Tweedledee.

"Oh I dare because I am Master here, and my word is law. Something you have yet to learn I see. No matter, we have plenty of time to teach you that lesson. As for calling you a tramp..."

he raised his eyebrows and leaned forward in his chair, putting his hands on the desk as if preparing to pounce,

"What would YOU call a girl who slips out in the night to see a boy? Who sits in a car with him and lets him touch her, and do disgusting things to her? Who spreads her legs and lets him have his fill? Hardly romance is it? More like business! Did he pay you?"

He sat back, calmly watching as the blood flow to her face confirmed his original thoughts - this one was going to be such fun to play with! Oozing bravado on the surface, an adult in body, but still a little girl within. His cock lurched within his trousers as his imagination fell to the preliminary planning of her lessons - and they would be such a joy to teach!

He studied her as she stood there stuttering her denials, incoherent and incandescent with outrage and shock.

He gestured at the two girls guarding her, and they grabbed her, slamming her forward over the desk and with one deft movement they had her arms pinned up behind her back and her skirt up, exposing the plain white pants that encompassed her soft, plump cheeks.

She was gasping now, unable to wriggle without causing herself a world of pain from her pinned arms, and she was clearly terrified. The throbbing in his pants would need attention soon. He would make this first part of her punishment brief and memorably painful.

Standing he turned to the rack behind him, and selected his cane. It was some 3 feet in length, and quite flexible, as he demonstrated to the distraught girl, swishing it menacingly through the air in her line of vision. Moving around to stand behind her, another nod had his lieutenants repositioning themselves, and her. One took the Headmasters seat, and taking Anya's wrists she pulled her arms across the desk, preventing her from standing. The other remained at her side, her hip pressed against Anya's waist, allowing no sidestepping, and keeping her skirt clear of that exposed bottom.

The pain of the first stroke was such that she was unable to breathe until the 4th was already falling. Then with a gasp that tore at her throat she filled her lungs and screamed her agony aloud.

The two holding her smiled at each other, enjoying her squirming and her pain. The Master paused, allowing her to sag a little, in her mistaken belief that the punishment was ended.

With his quiet voiced he suggested to her that she confess to her sins, make it easy on herself and tell them of her wanton behaviour of the previous night, whilst knowing full well that nothing had happened, as she had been under close observation the whole time.

The girl holding her skirt stroked her hair, over and over, as she sobbed and gulped that there was nothing to tell.

"Liar" he snapped as he raised the cane again, bringing it down with force against her quivering globes that were showing the red wheals even through her knickers.

"Slut" he hissed, and "Dirty little tart", amongst others, as he beat her repeatedly, accompanying each blow with an expletive, the accusations making her cry harder, and plead even more desperately for him to believe her.

When finally she ceased to beg, and just wailed, a wordless cry from deep within her little world of pain, he stopped.

The girls fell to stroking her hair again, and her arms and shoulders, and the one by her side lifted her head and kissed her cheeks and then her lips, licking away her tears. She was so distressed that she accepted their ministrations quietly, even gratefully, snatching at the only crumb of tenderness she had been offered since entering the Headmasters office.

"Now," came his voice, startling her from her daze of misery and confusion, "All you need do is thank me for showing you the error of your ways and we are done here"

It sounded as if he were smiling, and when she raised her head to look around at him, indeed he was. In disbelief she looked at the two girls holding her, they too were smiling, and the one who had kissed her nodded, saying, "It's simple. Thank the Master nicely for helping you to be a good girl."

She dipped her head and kissed her again, warm full lips pressing against hers, and Anya felt the tip of a tongue licking at her mouth, lightly, teasingly. She opened her mouth to protest and it was inside her, exploring her, probing and tasting. With a gasp and a wrench borne of instinct not reasoning, she pulled away, and was rewarded by a vicious slap across her face, and her head was slammed back onto the table, a hand bunched up into her hair held it pressed there, while the whipping recommenced. It took 6 more blows, 6 more strokes of the cane that sent fire through her veins and turned her bowels to water before she managed to scream her gratitude to the headmaster. Barely able to voice the words, she cried her compliance, and the blows ceased.

She stayed there, bent over the desk, exhausted and humiliated, and through the buzzing in her ears she heard the headmaster directing her to be taken to see the doctor. She wondered how she was going to manage to walk, and what the doctor would say when she saw the state of her. She hoped that she would report the Headmaster for his cruelty. She hoped wrong.

The two girls took her arms, and helping her upright, they turned her to face him. He raised her chin, and she averted her eyes from his gaze, fearful of what response she might provoke if she stared back at him. He chuckled.

"Very good. I thought you might be a slow learner, but maybe not. We'll see. "

As they turned to go, he raised his voice.

"Sophie, I think Claire can manage on her own. Anya will be a good girl for her, won't you Anya?"

"Yes Sir" she whispered, hobbling as quickly as she was able, desperate to leave the room and get away from this madman.

As the door closed behind them, Anya just caught a glimpse of the girl, kneeling in front of the teacher as if she was about to say her prayers. She wondered what exactly it was she was praying for.