Another erotic story from the FLOGMASTER!Copyright 1995-2009 by the Flogmaster. All Rights Reserved. Free distribution via electronic medium (i.e. the internet or electronic BBS) is permitted as long as the text is _not_ modified and this copyright is included, but _no_ other form of publication is allowed without written permission. This document _may_ contain explicit material of an ADULT nature. ***READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!*** Anything offensive is your own problem. This story is for **entertainment** purposes only, and it does _not_ necessarily represent the viewpoint of the author or the electronic source where this was obtained. All characters are *fictional* -- any resemblance to real people is purely coincidental.
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(****, fffff/f, Severe, Teen caning)
The tables are turned on Erin. (Approximately 1,722 words. Originally published 1998-02.)
Two days after our session with Miss Arler I heard that Jessie was to be taking riding lessons. Jessie didn't tell me, but when I asked her, she looked away and nodded. I knew she felt badly for me, but she could not deny her attraction to Miss Arler. On Saturday she left for her first lesson. I felt very alone.
I watched Jessie drift away from me. I felt disappointed and betrayed, but I also understood--Miss Arler was difficult to resist, especially when you were what she wanted. Knowing it would be useless to fight her, I let Jessie go. Our discipline sessions grew shorter and shorter, and even those we had seemed uncomfortable, as though we were suddenly strangers.
Without Jessie to occupy my time, I grew more and more depressed. I became even stricter with my charges, becoming the prefect from hell. I thrashed girls for the most minor of offenses, and I was never gentle or forgiving. Everyone avoided me, and I avoided anyone who didn't. I wanted to be alone. I drove people away from me.
One day I heard that there was a telephone call for me in the main hall. The girl who told me didn't know who it was, but I suspected it was my father. I was halfway down the stairs when I remembered a magazine article on trains I'd clipped to tell my Dad about, since he's a model railroad collector. I quickly ran back to my room. As I opened the door I was shocked to discover a girl inside. She had her back to me, bending low near the head of my bed.
"What's going on!" I cried, and when the girl stood I recognized her as one of the juniors under my charge. "Margot! What are you doing?" The girl had turned white and was speechless with fright, which led me to the conclusion that her actions had to be mischievous.
I pushed passed her. Hidden behind the headboard of my bed I discovered a half-full bottle of whiskey. Opening the top I sniffed. Indeed, it was alcohol. I glared at Margot.
"I don't know what this is about, Margot, but you and I are visiting the Head!"
Poor Margot looked crestfallen, but nodded sadly. Gripping her arm with one hand, and carrying the bottle in the other, we emerged from my room. Margot stiffened as others in the hallway could see us. I couldn't figure out the girl's motivation in attempting to frame me--she and I had never been seriously at odds. I had to cane her occasionally, but I caned everyone. But I didn't have time to worry myself.
"I've got to get to my phone call," I said.
"That won't be necessary," said a new voice. I turned. Coming up the hallway were several girls, all juniors in my charge. There was Sari, the tall blond who had spoken, and her friends Alice, Erica, and Monique.
"What do you mean?"
"There's no phone call. It was a ruse."
"Ah, so you were in on this?"
Sari and the others nodded, their faces grim and without remorse. This puzzled me. I decided that perhaps it would be better for me to deal with this personally, even though something as serious as alcohol possession was really in the Headmistress' jurisdiction.
"Downstairs, everyone," I announced.
The faces of the girls were hard, almost cruel in their stifled rage. But they obeyed, walking slowly ahead of me down the stairs to the boiler room. They knew without anyone spelling it out for them that this was to be a most severe caning. As a prefect, getting caught with alcohol would have gotten me a couple dozen from the Head, plus the loss of my prefectship. These girls needed to suffer.
In the boiler room I closed the door and made the girls line up before me. "What happens here will remain between us," I said. "Is that understood?"
The girls nodded, somewhat relieved that the Head was being kept out of it. They would have been in serious trouble if I'd turned them in. Not only for possession of alcohol, but for also for trying to frame me.
"I must admit, Sari, I'm both shocked and puzzled by your little plot. It's obvious you wanted to get me in trouble, but why? What have I done to any of you?"
For a long while the girls didn't speak, but only exchanged covert glances. Finally Sari spoke, brave and bold. "You want to know why we did this?" Her voice dripped with sarcasm.
"Well, it's simple. We wanted you to get the stick."
"Cause you're always giving it to us."
"That's my job. I'm a prefect."
"Yeah, but you enjoy it too much. Last week you gave six to Erica just for chewing gum!"
"And you gave me the slipper for giggling after lights out," added Monique.
"Ha!" exclaimed Alice. "I got the slipper for just having one knee sock a hair shorter than the other!"
"The point is," Sari said, glaring at her friends to calm down, "is that you use any excuse to punish us. I don't mind taking what I deserve, but lately you damn near whack us for breathing!"
"That's the slipper for swearing!" I started to say, then caught myself. Was it true? Had I turned into a tyrant? I saw dull anger and coldness on the faces of the girls. They resented me tremendously, and didn't regret their little stunt at all. No doubt they'd half expected to get caught, but just the chance of me getting caned had seemed worth the risk. They weren't cowards--their bravery was evident in the way they'd stepped in to protect Margot. With a sick heart I realized there was a great deal of truth to their words.
"You really hate me that much?" I collapsed on a bench. My mind was spinning. Though I wasn't close to any of the girls, I'd always liked to think they respected me.
The girls looked at each other, puzzled. Sari shrugged. "We just wish you'd lay off a little."
A bizarre idea came to my head. It had been a long time since my last bout with the cane. Perhaps I'd forgotten some things. I stood and fetched the senior cane from its hiding place in the corner. The girls trembled as I approached.
"Six each," I said firmly, hopping I didn't regret my decision.
Sari's mouth dropped open. Margot's brown eyes swelled. All the girls were stunned.
"Yes, ma'am," said Sari, almost eagerly, reaching for her skirt.
I shook my head. "No need for that." I handed her the cane. "You go first. I've decided you're right. I have been a bitch."
I walked to the center of the room and unhitched my skirt, letting it fall to the floor. Without pausing I pulled my panties down to my ankles and stepped out of them. Kicking them aside, I grasped my ankles and held on for dear life.
"Make them count," I muttered to Sari, who stood holding the cane like it was a snake.
For a long time no one moved, then I heard soft footsteps behind me. Sari was standing there, tears in her gentle blue eyes. She knelt low, next to my ear. "These are going to hurt," she whispered. I nodded, bracing myself.
The first strike wasn't that hard, but it was well-aimed. The next two were slightly harder, and landed right on top of the first. With a gulp I realized what Sari was doing. She gave me all six in the same spot, the last couple causing me to gasp slightly.
Margot was next. It was obvious she'd never caned a girl before. Her strokes were more enthusiasm than strength. They were a touch wild, hitting me inconsistently. A couple caught me low, across the top of my thighs, but I didn't say a word.
Finished, Margot gave the cane to Alice, another novice. The problem with the cane, however, is that even a six-year-old with a broken arm can make it hurt. Especially if your bum has already taken a dozen. Tears came to my eyes during Erica's thrashing. My bottom was beginning to feel like I'd taken a dozen from Headmistress.
Erica took the cane for her strikes. I didn't know if she'd ever had experience on that end of the stick, but she sure used her knowledge of the receiving end to give me six crackers that had me on tiptoes, sweating, and moaning. My arse was crisscrossed with painful weals.
The last was Monique. I knew from conversations with her that she'd gotten the cane at home from her father, and apparently she'd learned a lot from watching him whip her older brother. Though she was smallest of the five girls, her six were the worst. Each whippy stroke was precisely placed and well-balanced, spreading the pain across my arse in an even line. On the third blow I howled and broke down into tears. It wasn't that the pain was actually that bad--I've stood worse for Miss Arler without blinking--but I needed the release. I let my dripping tears take away my guilt. Also, I reasoned, the girls would benefit from seeing me humbled.
When it was over I stood slowly, my arse stiff and crackling, the weals throbbing. I could belittle it as much as I'd like, but it didn't change the fact that I'd be feeling these welts for a week.
Sari stepped over to me, tears gleaming in her eyes. She gave me a broad embrace, and then the others stepped forward and we did the group hug thing, everyone pounding me on the back and telling me what a good sport I was. I felt much better and wiped the tears from eyes, grinning at the girls.
"Thanks, girls," I said, fetching my clothing and putting it back on. "I guess I really deserved that."
"I take back everything bad I said or thought about you," said Margot boldly, holding out her hand to me. I shook it solemnly, and then did the same with the others.
"Good." I said. "Now there's one more thing..."
More to come next week!