by Victor Bruno
At last she put down her pencil. “A good effort from Spencer,” she said... and I almost burst into tears with relief. My heart pounded joyfully... all the more so when she turned to Paula. “And another poor one from you, young lady” she said.
I saw Paula’s hands grip the edge of her desk and she went a shade or two paler. “I... I tried very hard, Miss,” she said hoarsely. “It’s just that I find sums... and problems like that... very difficult. It... it’s different with languages... and history... and that sort of thing ...”
“I realise you find arithmetic difficult, Paula,” said Madame Maxine in her usual unruffled way. “That is why I am so intent that you make an extra effort at it. That’s the only way you’ll improve. As you must.”
“But... but... I tried so hard,” said Paula, quite pitifully. I really was enjoying this, I must confess. The tables were indeed turned.
“Not hard enough,” said Madame Maxine with finality. Paula bit her lower lip even harder. Oh God, I thought, she’s going to get it. I’m going to see that shapely bottom naked. I’m going to see Miss Haughty squirm.
Madame Maxine opened the slim black book on her desk. Her finger ran down several of the pages. “Now, Paula,” she said. “I see I began correcting your arithmetical faults with the tawse. Then the double tawse. Without any appreciable effect, it seems. So I moved on to the cane. Six of the best on two successive occasions. And the last time I added a promise, did I not?”
“Y-Yes, Miss,” Paula almost whispered. I can hardly tell you how delighted I felt at that moment. Was that too rotten? I suppose so.
“And what was that?”
“A... a d-double dose If I did not improve, Miss.” said Paula.
“Precisely,” said Madame Maxine, as cool as a cucumber. “So that means you’re going to get twelve strokes of the cane, my girl. What is more, I’m going to give them to you as hard as I know how... because I think you thoroughly deserve them. Stand up!”
Paula stood up, trembling visibly. Pleased as I was at the thought of seeing Paula expose herself, I felt a certain sudden sympathy too... knowing what she was going to have to go through. Worse for a girl than for a boy.
“Come out ...”
Paula went out, her breasts beginning to heave. I sensed that my presence made it doubly difficult for her.
“Kneel there, lift your skirt and take your knickers down,” said Madame Maxine, pointing to the curving leathern whipping block over which I had so recently been placed.
With a dry sob, Paula obeyed the order. Reluctantly but not too slowly. I gazed with joy upon her naked, white curvaceousness. Quite unmarked. Seeing the little tuft of dark down between the cleft. Seeing the strong young thighs. Seeing all she had to offer for male delight. I was utterly enraptured. The strain on my tight trousers began... and intensified with the certain knowledge that that beautiful young bottom would soon be squirming and striped with weals.
Fascinated, I watched as Madame Maxine took down a cane from its hook on the wall and flexed it with evident relish in her strong white fingers. As was so often her custom, she swished it experimentally a couple of times, and a little ripple of dread seemed to pass over Paula’s nates at the whistling sound.
“I think,” said the Governess, as she began to lightly saw the flexible rod across Paula’s already flinching bottom, “that for your own benefit, it is best you be secured. You don’t want to earn an extra six do you, my girl?”
“N-No... Miss,” said Paula fervently
“Spencer!” MY heart jumped... and I abruptly awakened from the delightful reverie of contemplating my fellow pupil’s naked charms. “Come out here!”
I left up and went out, horribly conscious of the straining bulge of my tight trousers. Surely she must see it too? If so, she made no comment, much to my relief. Though I was sure there was a glint of mocking amusement in those big dark eyes of hers.
“You will secure Paula to the whipping block, Spencer,” said Madame Maxine, “using the buckling straps. Start with the wrists.”
My heart pounded even faster, I was so near to her; I was actually going to have to touch her! “Yes, Ma’am,” I said hoarsely, trying to stop myself trembling as I went down on my knees to one side of the block.
This was, as I have said, a kind of heavy wooden bench, with a leather top, standing on four supports about eighteen inches off the ground. The pupil knelt at one end, stretching his or her torso along its length. I saw Paula’s pretty dark eyes looking at me with a blank, despairing kind of hate - her head turned to one side as I took her slim white wrist. She turned her head away as I pulled that wrist forward and began to fasten it with one of the buckling straps at the head of the block. I fastened it tight, remembering with what venom she had corded my wrists. This was indeed tit-for-tat. Then I moved round to the other side and did the same thing with her right wrist. Paula’s shoulders were heaving faster, but she was not actually crying or sobbing. She was, I thought, certainly a brave girl. Perhaps stubborn might have been a better word. I wondered how much experience she had. All the time I was conscious of Madame Maxine’s eyes upon me with the bulging evidence of my indiscretion. I was sweating, both with excitement and terror.
“Now, Spencer,” she said icily, “the waist strap ...”
This was the broader, heavier strap affixed towards the rear end of the block. I pulled it across Paula’s waist.
“Lift Paula’s skirt higher,” ordered Madame Maxine.
I did so, hand trembling, I actually touched that smooth girlish flesh where her back dipped. Oh God... the thrill! I felt her shiver. There was the whole slimness of her waist exposed. I buckled the strap, notching it into a convenient eyelet.
“Tighter,” ordered Madame. I pulled on the strap till I reached the eyelet. “More yet... “ came that cold voice. Straining, I tugged till I could get two more eyelets further on. Paula groaned breathlessly as her belly was crushed to the top of the leathern block. She was quite immobilised. There would certainly be no twisting away or over from her. I stood up.
“You have not finished yet, Spencer,” said the Governess, still flexing the cane lovingly. I was taken aback, what else was there to do? Paula was truly helpless. But Madame now handed me a tube of solid leather about two foot long and six inches in diameter. “Put that beneath Paula,” she said.
For a moment I was puzzled... then realisation came to me. It had to go beneath the girl’s flanks so that her buttocks were uplifted. I thrust it clumsily and she groaned again. I had to touch her... pull her ...feel her... as I did it. My blood was in a ferment. The shapely bottom was thrusting high when I had finished. Infinitely provocative. My heart hammered.
“Now you will secure Paula’s thighs with the straps at the base of the block,” said Madame Maxine.
For me those moments were the most exciting and terrifying at all. My head literally swam. I thought I must faint. I was so... so near her young nudity. Within inches. I could see her most intimate secrets in close up. Could have touched them... kissed them even ...if it had been permitted. Lust seared me like a flame. Forbidden lust. Frustrated lust. I heard Paula begin to sob as I fastened the second strap tight around her thigh. Helpless as she had been before, she was now even more helpless... and I knew well the awful panic-terror that inspired. At the same time, at the back of my mind, I was aware that Madame Maxine could quite easily have caned her victim with just the wrists secured. This prolonged ritual and excessive bondage was all part of the girl’s punishment. Again I stood up.
“Thank you, Spencer,” said Madame calmly. I could not squarely meet her eye and, much as I wished to, I dare not gaze on Paula’s nakedness before her. “You realise, Spencer, why Paula has been secured in this fashion?” she asked.
“T-To... t-to be punished, M-Miss... “ I stammered weakly.
“Of course, you dolt,” she snapped.
“But why precisely in this fashion?” She tapped the tip of the cane lightly on Paula’s tautly curvaceous buttocks.
“I... I... d-don’t know, Miss ...” I managed to answer. Although of course I did. “I m-mean... I think ...”
“Are you a complete imbecile, boy?” she demanded. “I will tell you, Spencer. Because this is the most salutary way of all to receive a caning.” She tapped poor Paula’s bottom again lightly with the cane. “You will observe that the flesh is as stretched as it can be.” I observed, head spinning again with all that was revealed to me. “That makes each stroke considerably more efficacious than if Paula were lying flat. Is it beyond your comprehension to understand that?”
“N-No... Miss ...” I answered. And indeed it was not. Paula’s nates were as tight as drumheads. Each stroke would indeed be a cruel agony.
“Return to your desk,” she rasped.
Almost buckling at the knees, I did so. I felt my face was as red as a beetroot. I was hot and sweating and the strain on my trousers was, it seemed, even worse. Dry in the throat, I looked at the smooth whiteness of Paula’s bottom. Twin globed moons of nakedness. Unmarked. It must, I thought suddenly, have been some time since she had been punished. That would, no doubt, make it all the worse for her.
“Very well, Paula,” said Madame Maxine, taking up her position, long limbs straddled, “since you are so weak at arithmetic, you will count the strokes as you receive them ...”
An awful groan came from her clenched teeth as the whippy cane measured and touched her flesh. I held my breath. Yes... I pitied her... yet, at the same time, I wanted to hear Miss Haughty scream with pain!
It was at that precise moment... just as Madame Maxine... was about to swing up the rod... that there came a knock on her door. She lowered the cane and a flicker of annoyance crossed her beautiful, strong features. “Yes... who is it?” she asked.
“Estelle, Ma’am,” said the maid from behind the door. “I beg pardon... but Mr. Lamont is on the phone. He says it’s urgent Ma’am... can he speak to you now, please?” It was a kind of repeat performance of the time I had been caned!
Madame Maxine’s features softened slightly. “Mr. Lamont, you say?” One hand touched the darkness of her long tresses. “Very well, Estelle... tell him I’ll be right down.” She laid the cane on the desk and smoothed her skirt... almost as if she were going to meet this Mr. Lamont rather than talk to him on the telephone. “A brief postponement, Paula,” she said. “Still... it won’t do you any harm to wait a little. All the more time to reflect on what’s coming to you when I return ...”
The thought flashed through my mind that Madame Maxine may have deliberately arranged this interruption. For I knew myself the long drawn-out anguish of waiting for a certain punishment. How immensely it added to one’s mental torment!
Madame Maxine regarded me piercingly. “You will remain at your desk, Spencer,” she said. “And, while I am out of the room, there will be complete silence. Is that fully understood?”
“Y-Yes, Miss... “ I nodded.
On those long limbs, high heels clicking, she strode to the door. It opened and closed behind her. Paula and I were alone.
***
As the minutes ticked away, I gazed avidly at all she revealed. Unabashed now that Madame was no longer present. Never before had I been able to study a girl’s secrets so closely. The desire to open my flies and relieve the awful constraint... not to mention my intense lust... was well-nigh unbearable. But, naturally, I dare make no such move. Nor dare I breathe a word, much as I, in a way, wanted to express my sympathy to this enchanting young creature.
Hypocrite!
Was I not longing to see her caned? Because I knew what it was like to be caned by Madame Maxine. And it must be worse for a tender girl. Maybe worse of all to be so immodestly exposed before a boy!
Paula’s shoulders continued to heave and the occasional sobbing groan came from her. That was the only sound in the room. The minutes seemed to stretch endlessly. When... oh when ...would Madame return? I found my ears straining for the click of her heels in the corridor. No doubt Paula’s were straining even more in view of what was coming to her! The depths of her emotional and mental torment were very understandable to me.
So it was no surprise to me to see her shoulders begin to heave even faster, and to hear her begin to sob without restraint.
***
My thoughts flitted wildly this way and that as the minutes went by.
Paula must be nearly nineteen. No longer a girl really. More like a grown-up young lady. Yet she was being treated more shamingly than far younger girls would had been. What, I wondered hotly, would it be like to touch that smoothly curving white bottom? To slide one’s hand deep into the widened cleft? To... to... actually ...
My fevered mind would not let me think further. Besides, it was too dangerous. The pressure against my tight short-trousers was incredibly painful already... and I might be driven to do something utterly stupid if I let my mind dwell too much on forbidden things.
For then, as I may have told you, apart from a quick stolen kiss or an occasional fumble, I was a complete innocent as far as girls were concerned. Mind you, they lived in my fantasy world when I took the only form of relief available to me, at night times.
Paula, her thick glossy black hair spreading to her shoulders, continued to sob. I began to feel a little sorry for her, even though my desire to see her being punished had not lessened. Her unmarked flesh indicated that she had not been punished for some time. That would not make it any easier for her to bear ...
An electric wire seemed to quiver through my vitals when, at long last, I heard the sound of Madame Maxine’s high heels on the bare boards. No doubt an even keener sensation went through Paula. Tautly drawn as it was, I noticed the so soft flesh on the inner parts of her thighs begin to quiver ever so slightly.
The door opened and closed. Our Governess was back in her study - our temporary classroom. I kept my back as straight as a ramrod, staring straight ahead. Already, without my being actively aware of it, I was beginning to accept the stricter discipline as an everyday matter. How different from my previous school days!
There was a kind of distant, brooding look in Madame Maxine’s eyes. She stood for several long moments in the centre of the room, appearing to see nothing. Then her eyes suddenly flashed hard again as she picked up the cane off her desk. It was not the rattan she had used on me, but a smooth rod of pale yellowish-colour with a hooked handle. It was probably of willow and slightly slimmer than the rattan... but not all pleasant to contemplate for all that.
“But for that little interruption, your punishment would now be over, wouldn’t it Paula?” said Madame Maxine, taking up her position again, legs fractionally astride, stretching her short black skirt. “As it is, you’ve still got it to come, eh?”
“Y-Yes, Ma’am... “ Paula’s voice was scarcely above a whisper.
One could almost feel the inner tension radiating from her. The flesh of her inner thighs was quivering once more.
Once... twice... Madame Maxine measured the girl, across the topmost part of her curving buttocks. Then the arm rose up and whiplashed down. It had all the smooth, easy timing of a professional golfer swinging a club - when the highest speed is reached at impact.
A high-pitched squealing shriek came from Paula. Scarcely surprising.
Apart from the long drawn-out wait which must have torn her nerves to shreds, there was the viciousness of the stroke itself. It was in such a fashion that she must have caned me, I thought, seeing the vivid weal growing a deeper red every instant as the blood rushed to the surface. Yet the flesh did not break. Madame Maxine was an artist in such matters, I realised. She knew just what strength to apply, just how far to go, to inflict maximum pain whilst avoiding undue damage.
Paula’s cries rose higher and higher
as her lungs sucked in air. If they had not been so tightly secured, her hindquarters would have been squirming wildly, I knew. All the same, the flesh clenched and quaked spasmodically. To be honest, I cannot say I felt sorry for her. I was simply fascinated by the spectacle.
“We are counting, are we not, Paula?” demanded Madame Maxine, in a hard voice.
“Yes... aagghh... y-yes, Ma’am,” cried out the girl hastily. “One... aggh... one ...”
Eleven to go, I thought, with a kind of sadistic relish - even though I knew that the same kind of thing could happen to me at any time. It was just that it was extra good to see such young, womanly arrogance being subdued. Oh, if only I could have unbuttoned and enjoyed the relief I found at night!
The cane rose and fell again, just as smoothly as before, cracking sharply into that white flesh about an inch below the first weal.
“Yyyaaaiiieeee!” cried Paula. And again. And again.
“I won’t warn you twice, Paula,” said Madame Maxine sternly.
“T-Two... ooo ... aaaghhh... t-two... ooo... “ gasped the girl.
“And one and two are ...?” enquired Madame Maxine.
“Th-Threee... Ma’am... “ cried Paula quickly.
Here was, I reflected, a unique way of giving an arithmetic lesson!
Unhurriedly, Madame Maxine continued to lay on the cane. The red stripes marched evenly down over the curve of Paula’s bottom, just about an inch apart. Each one produced an agonised series of shrieks from her before she could control her vocal cords sufficiently to pronounce the number of the stroke.
Then Madame Maxine would make her add the number of that stroke to the one which had just preceded it.
Thus ...