Another erotic story from the FLOGMASTER!Copyright 1985-2016 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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SSC: A Minor Fault
(****, M/f, Severe, nc caning)
A school disciplinarian escalates a punishment to absurd levels. (Approximately 501 words. Originally published 2007-07.)
Mandy was two minutes late. Her heart sank. At St. Barnabus, tardiness earned you a thrashing. Reluctantly she opened the door. She ignored the silent, watching class and didn't say anything as Mrs. Nair handed her the yellow slip. Mandy headed for the detention room.
"Four strokes," she thought bitterly. "Maybe six, depending who's on duty."
Her heart plummeted when she saw it was Mr. Thrasher. "Crikey, Sara said he's the worst!"
The disciplinarian nodded grimly, setting a sinister yellow wand on the desk and taking the note from her.
"Tardiness. That's at least six, eh?" Mandy squirmed. The man continued: "Turn around, let's have a look. Big sturdy girl, you are. A mature bum like that deserves a dozen, wouldn't you say?"
"A dozen!" gasped Mandy.
"You wouldn't feel anything less. 'Sides, you must be eighteen."
"Not until next month!"
Thrasher shrugged. "Close enough. A dozen it is." He picked up the thin rod and bent it ominiously. It hissed through the air wickedly like a sword. Mandy trembled, her legs wobbly.
"Too thin, too light." Thrasher frowned. "But it'll make a good introduction. Tell you what: I'll give you a few little flicks with this and then a solid dozen with a real cane. Perhaps the governess over there."
Mandy saw the rack of horrible canes, each thicker and longer than the previous, and felt dizzy and confused. But she obediently bent into position and raised her skirt.
"Get those pants down."
"I'm paid to beat your bum, not your knickers, dear. Hurry up!"
Mandy flushed scarlet as her underwear descended, leaving her bare cheeks exposed and vulnerable for the cane.
Mr. Thrasher studied her bare bottom and clicked his tongue. "It's unfair to use the cane without a bit of warming up. What say I give you a few smacks first?"
Mandy didn't know what to say. Or rather, she did -- "No!" -- but she didn't dare. Thus she found herself gasping and hissing as the man's heavy hand slapped her bare arse rosy. After a few dozen per cheek he picked up a small wooden bat and paddled her scarlet, admonishing her for her yelps and wiggles.
"Calm down girl! This is just the warm-up."
"But it hurts!"
"Such a big girl complaining about a few smacks? Your education has been neglected. Let's make it two dozen with the cane."
"Nooo!" moaned Mandy, but her protest was lost as the razor cane quickly sliced through her bottom, leaving dozens of pencil-thin welts.
But a blaze of agony from the heavy governess rod wiped all memory of previous pain. Again and again the stick cut in. Mandy shrieked and danced wildly, earning an extra dozen for her "excessive gyrations" and "non-cooperation."
When it was over, four dozen purple weals decorated her crimson bottom. Mandy departed in a daze, a note confirming her return on Saturday for a "proper punishment."
Tears trickling forlornly, Mandy muttered, "Fuck, I was only two minutes late!"