I am never good with categories, or for that matter specific tags, it all just seems to wander off in different directions. Everything contained within these pages are works of complete fiction. The characters in this story are themselves entirely fictional. They do not exist, never have, and never will and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, whether by name or by description, is purely coincidental and unintentional.
~~oOo~~
Delta George
Angus Weston was trying too stem the tidal flow of questions, he was losing interest with the incessant questioning from the bright young students surrounding him as, in his peripheral sight, he caught sight of a vision, a vision of beauty, tall, and lithe with a fit, athletic physique, and chiselled, well defined abdominal muscles, and gracefully proportion limbs.
Her blonde hair was long and loose, with the perfect amount of wayward curls framing her face. Her eyes are bright, her full lips moist, her skin tanned and soaked with sweat from running on such a warm summer's day.
Her outfit was inappropriate, even in an all female college. It was a brief grey sports top that plunged deep to emphasise her impressive chest and slim waist; it moulded to flow over her every curve like a second skin, and a short, grey pleated skirt showing off her long, shapely legs.
She stood in the warm sunlight filtering through the large Georgian window in the oak-lined hallway.
Angus Weston knew about this vision, he had been warned by a number of governors about the Delta affect.
Angus was not a man to be intimidated, bullied or cowed, which is why, in the dying days of the failing college, the governors parachuted him into the master role; his task was to restore discipline and improve the exam results.
Angus had done his research, asked all the right discreet questions, he knew that, for Delta there were few letters from home, and no telephone calls, and there, between the lines and silences was always the suggestion of impermanence. She didn't have much in her life; she had no father, an absentee mother, and a chip on her shoulder as wide as Gloucestershire.
They said that she didn't do waiting, didn't do quiet calm, even when still, she fidgeted, bounced on the balls of her feet. She often would promise, 'I'll stay --' even as she prepared to go somewhere else. Now she was twenty feet away, over the heads of the younger girls crowding around in their uniforms and ill-fitting boaters.
He caught her eye, holding it fleetingly: he was happy to see her demure look in return, holding a little frisson of vicarious fear. Her look said, 'No problem here?' but there was no impatience in the question; nobody else was even aware of the glance.
Angus held a hand up, the gaggle of young students falling silent. "Miss George, please make your way immediately to the Masters study." Angus spoke directly, his voice carrying. He saw her incline her head, not in acceptance, or deference, but simple acknowledgement of the inevitable.
There was a collective ooh, from the gaggle as Delta George turned on her heels and headed for the study.
Once in the study, Angus took the imposing desk chair in front of the large window, and Delta stood, rocking slightly.
"I do not believe in wasting words, Miss George. Until a new, permanent Master is appointed, I have been given a specific task: turn this college around.
I have spent the last six weeks observing, questioning, and investigating so that I was able to formulate a suitable plan to present to the governors.
That plan, Miss George, was accepted by them unanimously last night, and its implementation begins today, or more specifically with you, Miss George, the college's esteemed head girl."
Angus paused, opening a drawer in his desk and extracting a buff folder, which he placed precisely front and centre on the desk.
Delta George had listened impassively to the new temporary master's ramblings, but now, for some reason, the contents of the ordinary-looking buff folder made her nervous.
"I am Miss George, a great believer that young people are innately good, but few will occasionally a second chance and firm guidance. In that folder is a detailed account and witness statements pertaining to your illicit activities, namely the supply of alcohol and cigarettes to minors. At 18, you may be over the legal age to purchase such items, but supplying such items to the other younger girls in school is illegal and breaches college regulations.
Regrettably, as head girl, you should be setting an example, and therefore, it is necessary for you to be made an example of." Angus paused again, expecting a reaction.
Delta had always been pragmatic and recognised when remaining quiet was in her interest.
"Nothing to say for yourself, Miss George?"
"No, sir, you have made up your mind."
"Yes, there are two options available to you.
The first is to involve the police, which will mean a criminal record and also result in you being dismissed from college with none of the qualifications you have been working towards.
The second is to accept corporal punishment within the terms set out under the college regulations." Angus watched her carefully.
"Corporal punishment, sir?' Delta queried.
"It means being bent over the desk and having your backside whipped; the regulations allow for a rattan cane, but I prefer a heavy leather strap called a tawse."
"Isn't that barbaric and cruel, sir?"
"No, and I have no intention of discussing semantics with you, however as this will be your first time, you can think of it as education through discipline. It will be extremely unpleasant, embarrassing, and painful, but it is over and done quickly, and justice will be seen to be done."
"Do I remain as head girl?"
"You may, although understand that as head girl, you will be subject to more rigorous scrutiny, and you may be called on to witness and be present for younger girls' discipline."
Delta thought hard about how difficult it would be; the man before her was old; he couldn't be that strong, and, in her experience, men were very inclined to treat her like a fragile princess the moment they saw slightly more of her perfect body. "I'll take the discipline, sir," Delta whispered.
"Excellent, saves me a great deal of paperwork. I am required to offer you a witness and chaperone; if you wish one, I will telephone Matron to attend.'
"No sir, I would rather keep this private."
"As you say, now before we start, are there any other crimes or misdemeanours for which our regulations require punishment?"
"Nothing, sir."
"I see. You do understand that if more offences are discovered, even in the future, you will be subject to discipline."
Delta swallowed hard. "There's nothing else, sir."
"Very well. You will bend over my desk, your hands holding the far edge, your feet together, your skirt raised, and the tawse applied over your regulation knickers.'
For the first time, Delta looked worried. She wore distinctly non-regulation knickers, but she bent over the desk as instructed and was keen to get this over with as quickly as possible.
Angus was pleased; she seemed to have accepted her fate, thereby avoiding any scandal for the college. He had chosen his time very well; her sports uniform was perfect for showing off her fantastic body. Large, high breasts with no hint of sag, a flat stomach, long, shapely legs, and the most delectable bottom he had seen in a long time. He lifted the hem of her short pleated skirt, noting the non-regulation underwear. He smiled to himself; she had already presented adequate reason for her subsequent thrashing, and he would always find regular reasons over the course of this late summer term to strap this magnificent bottom.
Her hips were well proportioned, and her bottom was as pert as a peach, each half protruding out strongly. Her skin was smooth, with a slight tan, and tautly stretched as she lay across the desk.
Angus ran the yard of heavy, supple leather through his hand as he studied the lace-covered cheeks before him.
"If you attempt to move, jump up, or otherwise protect yourself, then I shall have to start all over again; if you then attempt such a thing a second time, I will tie you down in front of the entire college at assembly and triple your punishment. Is that understood?' He announced authoritatively.
With a huge sigh of resignation, Delta whispered, "Yes, sir." She gripped the far edge of the desk as if her life depended on it.
For the first time in her young life, Delta George heard a distinctive swish of the leather through the air; it was a wicked, spiteful sound. The snap as it wrapped across her barely covered buttocks was loud and frightening.
She let out a cry of alarm just at the sound, and then her voice went up the scale in a shriek as the pain penetrated. It was awful. Much worse than she'd imagined. It felt like a red-hot pokers shearing into her flesh.
She jerked and writhed, then shuddered as she realised she didn't even know how many of such tortuous lashes she had to endure. The leather descended again, the welt an inch below the first, almost exactly in the centre of her bottom. She gritted her teeth until her jaw ached.
Every stroke landed with a resultant wail building in volume to full strength; the leather whipped in hard and accurately, and her entire bottom was an agonising, swollen mass.
The tears were running down her cheeks, pooling on the desk in front of her.
