Janet was 43. She'd been a widow for more than two years, and for all of that time she realized how hopelessly incapable she was of controlling the misbehavior of her only child, her daughter Melanie. Janet's late husband had tried to discipline the girl, by grounding her and cutting off her allowance, but he'd had little success. And then Janet, on her own, had had no success at all.
Melanie had had brushes with the law throughout her teens over such things as shoplifting and marijuana possession, but she continued to hang out with other delinquent kids and got into trouble on a regular basis. Somehow she'd managed to avoid having a criminal record, despite showing no remorse (except briefly, in courtrooms) over her actions. She'd managed to graduate from high school, but only with the help of some generous grading by teachers who were eager to help her get on with her life somewhere else.
Melanie was now attending a private boarding college for young women. She was not there by choice.
Janet had heard about the college from a Social Worker who had been assigned by the court to help Janet deal with her daughter more effectively. The college had a reputation for its high level of discipline, which had been proven to be beneficial in 'straightening out' problem youngsters. The college even required the girls to wear uniforms - white blouses and kilted skirts in a tartan plaid - exactly as if they were still in a school for children, a requirement which had the desired humbling and humiliating effect on its students. Melanie could hardly believe it when a seamstress came to their house to take her measurements for the uniforms.
Sending Melanie to the college took a substantial bite out of the annuities which Janet's late husband had left to provide financially for his wife and daughter, but Janet felt that if it helped get Melanie's life back on track it was worth the cost.
At the end of each semester Janet received a report from the college on Melanie's performance, both academically and otherwise, both in and out of the classroom. As the months went by, Janet saw an almost unbelievable improvement in every aspect of her daughter's performance. She actually wondered if the school was being totally honest in their reports, but when Melanie was home for two weeks at Christmas she could see the amazing difference for herself.
For one thing, Melanie had become, for the first time, a polite and well-mannered young woman.
Janet could remember when Melanie showed no desire to be at home at all, except for meals and sleep when she couldn't get those elsewhere, but now she seemed genuinely happy to spend her days and evenings at home and in her mother's company. She was helpful around the house, without being ordered to be. She was affectionate, too, to a degree that Janet had once thought her daughter would never be. The warm hugs and gentle cheek kisses that Melanie showered freely on her mother almost brought tears of joy to Janet's eyes.
Janet couldn't help but wonder what there was about Melanie's college life which was having such a profound and positive impact on the girl's attitude and behavior. She hoped that Melanie would be able to tell her something about it, so she asked her daughter to tell her what her life at the college was like.
* * * * *
Melanie's first day at the college was, she thought bitterly, the worst day of her life. She and the other firstyear girls had been herded by unsympathetic upperclass girls through the tedious and stressful processes of registration, dormitory room assignments, issues of uniforms, and so on. There were lists of chores and duties the girls had to perfom, and pages and pages of rules to be read and memorized. Each senior girl carried a short rod, not unlike a bandleader's baton, and used it to whip the backsides of firstyear girls who didn't keep up the demanding pace or who showed the slightest hesitation in following instructions. Melanie had felt the sting of the rods just twice that day, but they had the desired effect and Melanie found herself trying hard to avoid further punishment. It was like Boot Camp in the military, she thought, without the fun of getting a firearm of your own.
That evening, the firstyear girls gathered in the college's gymnasium to be welcomed formally by the school's Headmistress, who spoke only briefly but who left no doubt in their minds that there was now no room for mischief or slacking in their totally controlled lives. By bedtime on that first day Melanie was exhausted and, perhaps for the first time in her life, more than a little frightened by what her mother had gotten her into.
The girls quickly settled into the college's daily routine, which was simple but allowed for no deviations. There were chores to be done in the morning, school classes through the day, quiet study time in the evening, and lights out at bedtime at ten o'clock sharp. Melanie changed her metaphor for the college from that of an army boot camp to that of a medium-security prison.
* * * * *
Melanie quickly learned how the school functioned. She learned that failure to abide by the stict rules, however minor and harmless the transgression, was never tolerated and always resulted in punishment to the offender. Most of the punishments were administered by the faculty, the class Mistresses, but some were handed out by senior girls if they were the ones offended by a girl's actions. The punishments varied in severity, but some were very severe indeed.
The faculty had their own uniform of sorts, although they had some freedom in the choice of colours in their clothing. They all wore sheer blouses, snug skirts to just below the knee, pantyhose or stockings, and modest height heels. They wore sweaters or blazers on cool or windy days, but those were removed in the classroom. Mistresses were always addressed only as 'Mistress', but their first names were used when referring to them outside of their earshot, as in Mistress Joan or Mistress Margaret.
Melanie witnessed the administration of punishment by one of the Mistresses on her very first full day of classes, when the girl who sat at the desk immediately in front of Melanie had allowed her mind to wander. The class Mistress, Mistress Caroline, caught sight of the girl looking out the window instead of at the blackboard where Mistress Caroline had been writing the highlights of today's lesson. Mistress Caroline glanced at her seating chart and found the girl's name.
"Anna!" shouted Mistress Caroline so suddenly and so loudly that all of the girls were startled. "Your attention is supposed to be on the classwork, not whatever you see in the sky out there."
She stode down the aisle between the desks and when she reached Anna she pulled the girl to her feet by a handful of her hair. Anna let out a shriek of pain and the class gasped in shocked surprise. Mistress Caroline forced the girl's head down onto the desktop, ordered her to spread her legs slightly and brace herself, and quickly gathered the girl's skirt up to the waist. The girl's plain white cotton panties were fully exposed to view, stretched tightly over her plump buttocks. Mistress Caroline drew a narrow wooden spatula from the back waistband of her skirt, put an arm around the girl's waist, holding her still and keeping her skirt up out of the way, and then gave the girl's bottom three rapid and very firm strokes with the spatula, each of which brought a groan of humiliation and pain from the girl, after which Mistress Caroline smoothed the girl's skirt back down over her bottom and ordered the girl to sit back down again.
"Say Thank you, Mistress," said Mistress Caroline, her voice quiet and controlled.
"Thank you, Mistress," answered Anna, as soon as she realized what was expected of her. Mistress Caroline tucked the spatula back into her waistband, returned to the front of the room, and went on with her lecture as if nothing out of the ordinary had just taken place.
The other girls looked at each other nervously. Anna tried to control her tears, shifting her hips from side to side to find a position where the pain in her bottom could be minimized. Her face was flushed and she was panting audibly. Mistress Caroline had made her point, and the world outside the windows no longer interested her students in the least. Melanie had seen it all, up close, and it took her several minutes to get her mind fully back to the classwork.
In bed that night, sleep would not come as Melanie replayed the incident over and over in her mind. The swift and painful punishment dealt out by Mistress Caroline had shocked her, but there were other aspects of the event that had also affected her powerfully. The look of the girl's bottom cheeks in her plain panties was strangely thrilling in itself, because it showed the girl's vulnerability and utter submission to her punisher. As the spatula had struck again and again, Melanie could almost feel the pain it was causing and wondered if she could take such punishment as bravely as Anna had.
And what was Mistress Caroline feeling, if anything? She showed no emotion, not anger or even annoyance. Melanie knew that she must have felt something, if only the satisfaction of a task well done. And what was that thing she did right at the end, when she smoothed Anna's skirt back down? Melanie could have sworn that Mistress Caroline had taken a moment longer to do that then was necessary, as if she was gently moving her hand over the lines she had just made with her spatula, almost caressingly... Now that was weird, thought Melanie. Really weird.
* * * * *
Melanie learned that the proper technique for accepting punishment was to follow the Mistress' instructions exactly, make as little noise as possible, and to thank the Mistress afterwards for the valuable corrective lesson. She also discovered that some girls got more punishments than others, almost as if the Mistresses had singled them out for special mistreatment. Some were taken by the Mistresses to the Headmistress herself, presumably for even greater punishment, and some of those who had received punishment at the hands of the Headmistress seemed to take pride in this accomplishment. Weirder and weirder, thought Melanie.
