BEXHILL SCHOOL FOR GIRLS, Assembly

by Adrian Akers-Douglas

  “Well, cheers then.” She gave a glass to Dick and tapped it with her own.

  The sherry, a beverage to which they were both unused, soon started to break the ice. Miss Holloway put the stroganoff into the oven to heat up, went back into the sitting room and sat on the sofa. She hoped Dick would sit next to her, but he chose the armchair.

  “Seen anything of Annie recently?” Dick asked. Miss Holloway glanced at him anxiously to see whether he was registering any untoward interest in her friend.

  “Not for a couple of weeks. Since just before my car broke down, actually. It was so sweet of you to fix it.”

  “Oh, my pleasure. At least I got something out of my National Service. Has it been running OK since then?”

  “It gets me to school and back, which is about all it has to do. Sometimes I take it up to Surrey to see my parents, but I don’t want to stress it too much. Tell me about the army - what was it like?”

  “Boring, most of the time, but at least I learned a bit about mechanics and got to see some of Germany. We spent a few months near Hannover but I was glad when my time was up.”

  “I wish I’d had the chance to go abroad. I hardly seem to left the education system at all - straight from school to a secretarial course and then from there to Bexhill. What was Germany like and why didn’t you go into engineering afterwards?” Miss Holloway wasn’t really sure what Dick did for a living and hoped this would give him an opening.

  “Germany was OK. They were starting to work their way out of the all the destruction at the end of the war. But I didn’t want to go on fiddling about with engines and things. I didn’t like getting my hands all greasy! Anyway, a cousin of mine was just starting an import business and asked me to look around for suitable stuff in Germany - you know, everything from power tools to beer. I rather enjoyed that, so when I finished in the army, I joined him and we’ve managed to build the business up quite well. Nothing dramatic, but it’s interesting and provides a reasonable income.”

  Just then the oven bell rang.

  “Supper’s ready - I’ll dish up if you would pour the wine. The bottle’s on the sideboard there.”

  “Wine - how posh! You’ve really been extravagant. What are we eating?”

  She took the prawn cocktails out of the ‘fridge and put them on the table.

  “Oh Marlene! How did you know? My favourite starter!”

  They sat down and once again clinked glasses.

  By the time Miss Holloway served up the stroganoff and some steaming vegetables, they were on to their second glass of wine and the conversation was flowing freely.

  “So what’s it like at the school? Do you like working there?”

  “Yes, very much. They’re nice people and there’s lots of variety. Have you ever seen the place?”

  “I’ve driven past a couple of times - seen the girls running around on the playing fields. Did you go there yourself?”

  “Oh no - my parents couldn’t have afforded it. I went to the local grammar. Were you at boarding school?”

  “No - it was a day school, but a private one. I wasn’t sorry to leave. I hated getting caned.”

  Miss Holloway choked on her mouthful of stew.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Yes, of course. I’m sorry.” She took a gulp of wine.

  “I don’t suppose they smack your girls, but they were real sadists with us. I couldn’t wait to get out of the place.”

  “Well, actually they do use corporal punishment at Bexhill - quite often.”

  “Do they really? Goodness, I thought girls were spared all that.”

  Miss Holloway hadn’t expected this turn in the conversation, but now she was keen to keep it going.

  “No - they’re quite Victorian at Bexhill. If the girls step out of line, they get thrashed. Most of them seem to accept the idea and some even prefer it to detention or whatever.”

  “Surely they don’t use the cane, do they?”

  “Oh yes. The headmaster and the deputy head have canes. Of course, they use other things too, like a hairbrush or a strap, depending on how severe the offence is, and I heard they’re going to allow ordinary teachers to use a paddle in the classroom if they need to. Matron sometimes spanks them as well, so all in all I suppose most of the girls end up getting smacked at one time or another during their time at Bexhill.

  “I’m really amazed! At my school we’d have done anything to get out of a hiding - detention would have been much better.”

  “Well, at Bexhill even the Head Girl has a cane, although she’s only allowed to give six strokes. It’s a sort of ‘badge of office’.”

  “That’s extraordinary. My school would never have allowed the pupils to beat each other.”

  “With us, even the dormitory captains can use a slipper. Actually, that’s not really formally approved, but the headmaster turns a blind eye to it because it keeps the juniors in line without him having to get involved.”

  “But surely it must lead to bullying and all sorts of abuse?”

  “It doesn’t seem to. I suppose they choose the Head Girl and the dormitory captains quite carefully and anyway the staff are usually aware of what’s going on. It’s been a tradition for ages.”

  “Probably comes from those posh boys’ public schools, like Eton. But I’m glad we didn’t have the system at my place.”

  Miss Holloway divided the remainder of the stroganoff between their two plates and refilled their glasses. Whether it was the way the conversation had developed, or the wine, or simply the buzz she had felt since Wednesday’s events, whatever it was, she was starting to feel very aroused.

  “So what sort of things were you caned for?” she asked, raising an eyebrow coquettishly.

  “Oh, the usual stuff: poor performance in class, ragging about, being cheeky. The ordinary teachers could give us the strap, and they often did so. But they didn’t need much of an excuse to put us on report to see the headmaster and then we were doomed. I’m sure that old creep enjoyed whacking us.”

  “What happened when you had to see the headmaster?”

  “Well, if you really want to know, I’ll tell you, although even now it makes me quake to think about it.” He mopped up the last of the food on his plate with the remains of a bread roll and pushed his chair back.

  “We used to have a daily Assembly after lunch. The headmaster would always preside over it. At the start, he’d read out a list of any boys who were on report. That meant you had to line up outside his study after Assembly. If your name was on that list you couldn’t concentrate on anything afterwards - you were terrified, because you knew what was coming.”

  “Gosh, you poor things.”

  “Yes, but the worst bit was waiting outside the study and listening to maybe three or four people in front of you being called in and getting the cane. You could easily hear the whacks and the cries, and you knew your turn was coming. Once, when I was the last of five or six waiting to be called in, I had to rush to the toilet. Golly, even now I can still feel that dread as we waited out there!”

  “But go on - what happened when you were finally called in?” She could feel the damp beginning to form between her legs.

  “He’d be sitting behind his desk. You had to stand in front of him and he’d read out the report or tell you why you were there. He’d go on for a bit and then ask whether you had anything to say. Of course, you knew you were done for already and it wasn’t worth arguing. He’d get up and walk over to the rack on the wall where he kept his canes. The junior ones - the thinner ones - were on the lowest rungs, then the seniors, and right at the top he kept a Dragon. Do you know what a Dragon is?”

  “Yes - Mr Masterson asked me to bring one in the other day. It looked really vicious.”

  “They are, they’re denser than ordinary canes and they hurt like anything. You always hoped he’d take down a junior or a senior instead. Then he’d swipe it around a bit. It would make that awful swishing sound. I’m sure he did it deliberately, to
scare us even more. That’s why I think he was a sadist, although I didn’t know what that was at the time.”

  Miss Holloway cleared away the plates and got the ice-cream out of the ‘fridge.

  “Go on. I’m just going to warm up the sauce.”

  “How delicious! Where was I? Oh yes, ‘swish’, ‘swish’. Then he’d tell you to go over to the sofa. There’d be a hand towel across one of the arms. He’d tell you to take off your trousers and your underpants and place them on the other arm of the sofa. Then you had to kneel on the sofa, lie across the arm with the towel underneath you, and put your hands on the floor. It was really undignified, with your bottom stuck up in the air like that. Maybe the old goat was queer, too. Anyway, he’d tell you how many you were going to get. It was always at least six, but for really serious offences like smoking or drinking alcohol, it would be twelve. And then he’d start beating you - hard, but very slowly, one stroke every twenty or thirty seconds. He’d walk around the room in between. It was absolutely agonising, but you daren’t get up. If you did, he’d give you extras. Gosh, even talking about it now makes me shudder!”

  It made Miss Holloway shudder, too, but for different reasons. She poured the hot sauce over the ice cream and placed the dish in front of him. She put a slightly smaller one down for herself.

  “Poor old Dick! Did you often get caned?”

  “Lord, yes! Two or three times a term. That’s why I was so glad to leave school. But I can’t believe they treat your girls the same way?”

  “No, I don’t think Mr Masterson or Mrs Winchester is sadistic; they don’t enjoy beating the girls. They just believe that corporal punishment works. The girls have to wait in my office before they go in to see the headmaster. I feel really sorry for them - some of them are terribly nervous. He even had to call me in last week to hold down one who was struggling too much.”

  “Good heavens - that must have been awful for you!”

  For a brief moment she wondered whether to tell Dick that she’d found it turned her on. She decided against.

  “She’d been caught smoking with two others. It was the first time the wretched girl had been caned and the headmaster was trying to give her twelve strokes, but she kept on jumping up. One of the other girls was the Deputy Head’s daughter - she got it really hard, I suppose to show that there was no favouritism. I’ve often heard the sound of punishments being dished out, but I’d never actually seen it happening before.”

  “Were you ever spanked at school or at home?”

  “No, worst luck.” It just slipped out.

  “What do you mean ‘worst luck’? Would you have liked to be spanked?”

  Miss Holloway was now completely flustered and started to blush. Should she admit it? She thought Dick might find it too ‘kinky’ - he seemed a bit straight-laced.

  “Oh, I don’t know really,” she babbled, realising how odd she must be appearing. “Would you like some more desert?”

  “It was lovely, but no more for me thanks. That was a wonderful meal; you went to so much trouble.”

  “It was nothing, I’m glad you liked it. Shall we go back to the sitting room?” Rather to Miss Holloway’s relief, it seemed that the previous conversation was over. Her hormones, however, were still bubbling away like the coffee would be if she didn’t take it off the heat very quickly. She lifted the pan, its delicious aroma wafting through the flat.

  “How do like your coffee? With milk and no sugar, isn’t it?”

  “You remembered! Yes, just white thanks.” While Miss Holloway poured the liquid into two cups, Dick went into the sitting room and, to Miss Holloway’s delight, he sat on the sofa. She served the coffee, put on an Everly Brothers record, and returned to her place on the sofa. She curled her legs underneath her and wondered how to move things along from here.

  She was twenty-four years old. Looking at herself carefully in the full-length mirror in her bedroom - both naked and clothed - she considered that she was probably quite pretty. Anyway, the male teachers at the school seemed to find her so, to judge from the way some of them flirted. She’d had a few boyfriends, but they had never moved beyond the rather chaste kissing stage. She was still a virgin, but of course that was certainly not then considered the social disgrace that it would be a few years later. She was also fairly sure that she wanted Dick to initiate her into the mysteries of sex. Tonight. She put her hand on his: maybe this would get him going.

  Dick looked at her and moved his face closer to hers. She closed her eyes.

  “What scent are you wearing?” he asked. She opened her eyes.

  “Chanel No 5. Do you like it?”

  “Yes, it suits you.”

  “How?”

  “Well, it’s a little bit mysterious, like you!” He put an arm around her shoulder. OK!

  “Why am I ‘mysterious’?” she asked archly, moving closer.

  “Things you say.”

  “What sort of things? You mean like ‘worst luck’?” She was looking up into his eyes, just like she’d seen Deborah Kerr doing.

  “Oh yes - that was one of your mysterious pronouncements!” Great! He was going to ask her whether she enjoyed the idea of spanking.

  He didn’t.

  “Marlene - I must ask you something: have you got a boyfriend?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh.”

  Pause.

  “You.”

  “Oh, Marlene!” He pulled her towards him in approved ‘B-movie’ style. Their lips met. After a while, their tongues also made each other’s acquaintance. This was definitely better than chaste kisses, but there seemed to be too much light. She wondered how she could dim things down a bit.

  The Everly Brothers came to her aid.

  ‘And I didn't realize what a kiss could be...be...be...be...be...’

  “I’ll fix it.” She disentangled herself, went over to the gramophone and gave the arm a nudge.

  ‘Mmm, ya got a way about ya

  Now I can't live without ya’

  She switched out the lights. The darkness was relieved only by the dim street lighting filtering through the curtains. It took a moment for her to get used to it. When she got back to Dick, his inhibitions had gone. He stood up and threw his arms around her, pulling her tightly to him. Their lips and tongues met again. His right hand slid down her back until it was caressing her bottom, his left held the nape of her neck. He moved his mouth from hers and kissed her ears and neck, working his way around to her lifted throat. She knew then, absolutely, that this was going to be the first night of the rest of her life. She surrendered to the idea with an almost imperceptible shudder.

  He moved his left hand and started unbuttoning the front of her shirt.

  “Naughty boy!” she murmured. “No wonder you got caned!”

  “For this, it would have been worth it.” He slid her shirt off her right shoulder, put his hand under the material and fumbled behind her back for the clasp to her bra.

  “Dick,” she said, trying to see his eyes through the darkness, “shall we do this in the bedroom?”

  “Yes, let’s.”

  She released herself from him, let her shirt drop to the floor and led him down the darkened corridor to her bedroom. The curtains were still open, so the room was lit by the solitary light on the path that led behind the flats. She moved to close the curtains, but Dick put his arms around her and pulled her back.

  “No. Leave them open. I want to be able to see you.”

  “But what about the neighbours?”

  “They can’t see in, silly, but even if they could - all the better. I’d enjoy their jealousy!”

  He reached behind her and unzipped her skirt. It fell around her ankles. She stepped out of it and put her arms around his waist. He slipped his fingers into the waistband of her knickers.

  “Wait a moment.” She leaned back and picked up the long-handled hairbrush from her dressing table. “I’m being a bad girl, aren’t I? Don’t you think you should teach me a lesson?”
/>
  “What do you mean?” asked Dick, sounding puzzled.

  “Well, shouldn’t bad girls be put over someone’s knee and spanked?”

  “But of course I don’t want to spank you! I’m very glad you’re being a bad girl!”

  He wasn’t getting ‘on message’.

  “Dick, I don’t mind if you spank me - really.” She hoped she didn’t sound too desperate.

  “Of course I’m not going to spank you - I wouldn’t hurt you for anything! I like you much too much. Now come here, darling.”

  He drew her back to him. She could feel a tumescence beneath his trousers as he held her to him once again, kissing her passionately. She enjoyed the feeling of his tongue entwined with hers and the manliness of his arms around her, but she knew, absolutely, that something was missing -and she knew what that something was.

  He let go of her and started taking his own clothes off. She stood there, still clasping the hairbrush.

  “Dick - it’s my first time. You’ll be gentle, won’t you?”

  “Of course, darling. Now put the hairbrush down. You won’t be feeling that on your bottom. How silly of you to feel that you had to mortify your soul or something! But it was rather sweet, all the same!”

  Reluctantly, she laid the brush back on the glass top of the dressing table.

  “Now, come here!” He pulled her gently down on to the bed, moving the sheet and blanket aside so that they could slip underneath. She could feel his manhood hard against her groin. She knew she wanted to do this, but somehow she didn’t feel quite ready. She took a deep breath.

  “It’s OK, sweetie.” She heard the tearing of foil and then a sharp, almost pungent smell. She could feel him groping to slip on the condom. Then he rolled her over on to her back and was kissing her again, on the mouth, the neck, her throat, and lower. He ran his tongue softly around her nipples, trying to tease them into arousal. They sulked.

  His right hand caressed her leg, moved up her thigh, and cupped itself around her bottom. This was better. She wiggled gently. Then, just as she was feeling that things were moving in a more promising direction, he slipped his hand across the top of her hips and his fingers started a gentle delving. Once again, her libido threatened to take a lunch break. She sighed. Encouraged, Dick probed further. He was breathing heavily now, reaching the stage where brakes are no longer available. He pushed is way into her, there was a momentary stab of pain, and then a rhythmical movement which reminded her, for some completely inappropriate reason, of the motor of her beloved Morris Minor. These are not the sort of thoughts you are supposed to entertain in this rather special situation. The engine jerked a few times and then puttered to a stop.