Madam Vosges' Finishing School

by Victor Bruno

  Three times the stage revolved to the accompaniment of heaving moans and groans. The eyes of both girls were glazed. Each wondered why she could not die. The pain was unbelievable. Unendurable.

  Yet now it was going to increase.

  “On the six final strokes,” instructed Madame Vosges, “you will both ‘whip in,’ three strokes from each side.”

  The term ‘whip in’ implied the birch slivers would fall on a single buttock cheek in turn, the floggers ensuring that the whippy tips of the birches bit into the vulnerable, excruciatingly tender sex-flesh in the widened cleft.

  Miss Magda and Miss Bernice took up their positions. Both took careful aim.

  “Begin,” ordered Madame Vosges. Her dark eyes seemed to be glittering even more brightly.

  The birches came slashing down, each covering the left buttock cheek only, the tips curling and biting into the cleft. And finding their target.

  The sounds of agony that erupted from Virginia and Melanie can only be described as inhuman. Hoarse rattling-screaming. Their eyes no longer glazed but starting from the sockets, each mouth gaping wide, a pink tongue flickering centrally.

  After the second stroke over the right buttock cheek... and the third over the left cheek... the smelling salts were needed again.

  “Keep them under the nostrils,” ordered Madame Vosges. This was a necessary precaution for both girls would almost certainly have swept down into insensibility before the final stroke fell.

  Now everyone could see that the cleft, which had once been white was as red and lacerated as the flesh all around it.

  With the smelling salts removed, Virginia and Melanie found the temporary benison of oblivion. Low heaving groans came from them; nothing more. Apart from that there was a deathly silence in the Hall. Many of the pupils, especially newcomers, were numb with shock.

  At last, Madame Vosges broke the silence.

  “I do not think I need repeat my warning,” she said.

  Indeed she did not!

  Casually, Miss Magda and Miss Bernice tossed the birches back into the trough. Their work was done. Well done.

  “Housekeepers.” Madame Vosges summoned up the two other Housekeepers. They came, each carrying an aerosol can with her. These cans contained a saline solution and it was claimed that this cleansed and prevented infection. In fact, all it did was intensify the pain in the raw flesh!

  “Bring them round again,” ordered Madame Vosges. The smelling salts were once more administered. Virginia and Melanie came back to a world of incessant, excruciating torment, “Sprays ...” came a further order.

  The aerosols spurted out fine liquid over the buttock flesh, on the thigh tops and into the cleft. For a few seconds it felt freezing. Then the already unbelievable pain seemed to double in intensity.

  The gasping, rattling shrieks from the two near-demented girls became incessant.

  “Leave them secured for a further half hour,” said Madame Vosges. “All pupils will remain in the Hall throughout that time.” Madame Vosges rose and, without another word left the stage by the door through which she had arrived.

  “Keep them fully alert,” said Miss Magda to the Housekeepers with the smelling salts.

  “And give them another spray in a quarter of an hour,” said Miss Bernice.

  The Housekeepers acknowledged these orders in a surly fashion and the two Form Mistresses left the stage. As Miss Bernice passed along the front row, she took Lucy by the ear and hauled her up.

  “You, young Miss, are coming with me,” she said. Lucy wailed with terror but had no option but to obey.

  ***

  They entered Madame Vosges’ Study, Lucy still held by her ear. “I’ve brought young Lucy,” said Miss Bernice. “I think she deserves a really good caning.”

  “She was the look-out, wasn’t she?” said the Headmistress. “I quite agree with you, Miss Bernice.”

  “I... I... d-didn’t mean any h-harm, Madame,” wailed Lucy. “I w-was just being friendly ...”

  “Friendly?” Madame Vosges’ eyebrows went up. “You were conspiring to protect a most perverse act!”

  “I... I didn’t know wh-what... they... they were doing, Madame... I thought they were just lonely and s-sad... we’re trying to comfort each other ...” This was, in fact, the truth, but no one was likely to believe it.

  “How old are you, Lucy?”

  “S-Sixteen, Madame.” Lucy was trembling all over.

  “And you pretend to know nothing about lesbian practices?”

  “I don’t know about them ...”

  “Fiddlesticks! Why should girls want a look-out if they weren’t up to something?”

  “I... d-didn’t r-realise, Madame ...” Miss Bernice released Lucy’s ear and slapped her face.

  “Don’t make matters worse by lying,” she snapped.

  Lucy reeled back, gasping and got a second slap from Miss Magda. “Stupid child!” she rapped out. “Do you think you can fool us?”

  “As I have to go into Lyons on urgent business,” said Madame Vosges, opening her PUNISHMENT RECORD, “I would like you to deal with this matter. First Lucy will be taken to Miss Bernice’s classroom where she will be caned in front of them all. Twelve strokes. Then she will be taken to Miss Magda’s classroom and get another twelve strokes.” Lucy uttered a high-pitched wail of terror. She had not been at the School long and had only been caned twice before. Six strokes with the Number Four cane on each occasion. Both times had been well-nigh unbearable and the thought of twenty four such strokes was quite, quite horrifying. “I see you’ve been caned twice before,” said Madame Vosges, consulting her PUNISHMENT RECORD. “On each occasion a Number Four cane was used. Now you are going to feel a Number Two cane... which hurts a great deal more.” Madame Vosges opened her desk drawer and tossed a Number Two cane on the desk top. Lucy wailed more piteously and covered her face in her hands.

  “N-N-Nooo... p-p-please... eeeease... noooooooo!”

  “I must be off,” said Madame Vosges, rising. “Lucy can stand in the corner of your classroom, Miss Bernice, until the pupils return from the Hall.”

  “Very good, Madame,” said Miss Bernice happily. She was having a very good morning. First a birching, now a caning. She didn’t often get such opportunities! She seized Lucy by the ear again and hurried her to the door while Miss Magda picked the cane off the desk and followed her out.

  ***

  The wait in the corner of the classroom was a nightmare for Lucy, one which seemed never ending, yet ended all too soon when she heard the class filing back in. Her heart began to pound furiously and she felt weak at the knees. She had an urgent desire to run, to escape, but knew that would certainly make things worse. She began to cry softly. Oh what a terrible place her wicked aunt had sent her to!

  The class seated itself. No one had yet recovered from the terrible scenes in the Hall. Many could still hear the awful, repeated screams.

  “Lucy ...” said Miss Bernice. “To my desk.”

  Moving on rubbery limbs, her cheeks wet with tears, Lucy came to the desk. She felt numb with shock and dread.

  “Take your knickers right off. You’re bound to rip them otherwise. Then lift up your skirt high.” With fumbling fingers, Lucy obeyed this humiliating order. Though she was very well made for her age, her skin had a girlish look about it. A smooth softness, a creaminess. She stood, flushing, skirt up, back to the class. There was no one in that class who wasn’t sorry for this young girl.

  “Lucy is to receive twelve strokes of the Number Two cane,” announced Miss Bernice. “Then she will be taken to Miss Magda’s class where she will receive twelve more.” There were some brief gasps. “Get up on the Frame, Lucy and bend over.” Lucy looked at Miss Bernice beseechingly; a low groan came from her. “Now... AT ONCE!”

  Shudder
ing, Lucy knelt up on the step and forced herself to bend over, knowing just how she was exposing herself to the whole class. She had not yet got used to the horrifying humiliation of it. In moments her wrists were seized and locked into the handcuffs which were low down on the front of the Frame. She was helpless. A loud, tremulous cry came from her. There was nothing she could do now to escape the dreadful torment coming to her.

  Miss Bernice picked up the cane and tapped Lucy’s wincing bottom with it.

  “You deserve every one of these, my girl,” she said.

  Then, with about five second intervals between them, she began to lay the strokes across Lucy’s soft, girlish bottom. One from the left, one from the right, one from the left, one from the right... and so on. The cane bit deep into the soft flesh, springing away to leave ugly, twin-tracked purple weals.

  Lucy’s breathless shrieks and howls were ear-splitting in that small classroom... and the contortions of her hindquarters incredible to see. She squirmed constantly, like a freshly-lined eel, with her legs kicking wildly. Often she squirmed right over in her torment and, once, Miss Bernice laced the cane across the front of Lucy’s thighs.

  “That’s an extra, girl... get your backside presented,” she yelled above the din. Lucy did so, but involuntarily, in view of the agony of the weal across her thighs.

  Miss Bernice caned with ruthless force but not with a great deal of accuracy. That was impossible to obtain in view of the wild gyrations of Lucy’s bottom.

  When the twelfth stroke fell Lucy was in a state of near hysteria... and her cries continued unabated. Miss Magda unlocked the handcuffs and she came threshing down on to the floor, hands pressing urgently to her buttocks. That did not stem the pain and she continued to squirm and squirm.

  “Up!” commanded Miss Magda and, gripping Lucy by her single plait, pulled her up off the floor. Lucy screamed even more loudly. Then her arms were twisted up behind her back and Miss Magda propelled her towards the door.

  “We’re only halfway,” she said. “It’s going to hurt a lot more yet!”

  Miss Bernice opened the door and, picking up the cane, followed Miss Magda down the corridor. The Class continued to sit with backs straight, in complete silence. As they must. None could remember a morning when they had been made to witness such barbaric cruelty.

  A short while later, terrible screams could be heard. Although Miss Magda’s Class was three rooms away they were loud and clear. All knew that Lucy’s terrible caning had been resumed... and knew now just how much she must be suffering. After six or seven strokes, there was a silence. She must have fainted, they realised. She would be revived of course.

  A short while later the caning and screams began again.

  Lucy did not make a re-appearance in her Class. All realised she must be too weak; too distraught.

  Miss Bernice came back looking smugly satisfied. “I hope you all understand,” she said, “That if any of you behave in a similar fashion, that is the kind of treatment you will get.” This announcement was greeted with dread, deathly silence. “Right,” continued Miss Bernice, “let’s get down to work. Open your Algebra books at page Forty five.”

  The books opened, heads bent.

  Concentration was complete.

  ***

  It was past eleven o’clock at night when Miss Bernice slipped quietly into Miss Magda’s room. She took off her night-gown and stood naked. Then she slid into the warm double-bed, to find Miss Magda naked too.

  They kissed and caressed urgently. The events of the day had roused them more than usual. Then Miss Bernice uttered a throaty little laugh.

  “I’m glad,” she said, “we don’t get birched for playing these kind of games.”

  “Me too,” agreed Miss Magda. “Very glad indeed.”

  The two women began to rub their mounds together with passionate vigour.

  Chapter Six

  The inner door of Piet Lanners’ Amsterdam office was locked. He was seated behind his desk, wanking slowly but steadily. He had on a condom, the inside of which had been coated with cold cream. That cream was now warm and felt very pleasant.

  If he had wanted to, Piet could have had his forty-year-old secretary in, to kneel under the desk and suck him off. She was rather good at that and he paid her extra for it. However, frequently Piet enjoyed his solitary vice since, being on his own made it easier to fasten his mind on past events.

  It was a month now since he had paid a visit to Madame Vosges. After that, he had gone to the Nunnery. For the first time. Soon he would be going back there. He concentrated his mind first on his stay at Madame Vosges’ remarkable School.

  He recalled the two delicious youngsters he had watched being caned simultaneously in her Study. She had used her thickest cane and the results had been electrifying. Each girl had earned herself ten strokes but what with interfering and not getting back into position in time, each had got fifteen or sixteen strokes. My God, how those young bottoms had been made to squirm! How those youthful limbs had kicked and splayed! Unforgettable.

  Piet had to slow his hand. He did not want to bring himself off too soon. Slowly the pounding of his blood lessened.

  Then he began to think about Tricia, twenty five, she had been; a real woman. But she got the same as all the rest. Dressed like a schoolgirl, ordered to take her knickers down before a caning. With him there, she’d refused to do that, so Madame Vosges had had her stripped naked and secured over her desk. How deliciously plump she had been! It had been lovely feeling her big tits when Madame Vosges had swiftly gone out of the room. For her resistance, rudeness and rank disobedience, Tricia was to get twenty four strokes... and Piet had had the very greatest pleasure of giving her six of them. The very first caning he had handed out. What a wonderful sensation it was to cane a helpless woman’s bare bottom! Again, unforgettable.

  But even greater delights were to follow that evening. At Madame Vosges’ suggestion, he had been permitted to go along to the San. to check up on the girl. ‘she won’t give you any trouble,’ Madame had said. That was quite right. Tricia couldn’t, since her wrists and hair were corded to the head of the bed and she was gagged. Her hindquarters were invitingly uplifted on a high pillow.

  Piet had accepted that invitation with relish.

  For three minutes or so, with deliberate brutish-ness, Piet had fucked the arse off the girl. Three ecstatic minutes.

  It had been rape... pure and simple.

  He had to stop wanking again or he would have gone over the top.

  His first visit to, the Nunnery had proved quite fascinating. Like Madame Vosges’ School, the Nunnery was an enclosed, impenetrable organisation. It had originated as a Monastery of some very rare order and was set high up in the Alps and could only be entered through an underground passageway. This led into a small courtyard where supplies for the occupants were left once a month. It was in this courtyard that any visitor waited while his identity was checked up on thoroughly, before he or she was allowed into the Nunnery itself. For obvious reasons, security had to be very strict. There had never been any problems.

  The Nunnery had a far larger staff Than Madame Vosges’ School. There was an Abbot and an Abbess and, under them, a Prior and a Prioress. They had as staff six Brothers and six Sisters. And these latter had in their direct charge, the Novices. These were the girls sent to the Nunnery by Madame Vosges and they were in three grades... Junior Novice, Novice and Senior Novice.

  All this had been explained to Piet when he met the Abbot on arrival. He was a tall, rugged looking man in his early forties, tonsured in monkish style and wearing a magnificent scarlet cassock trimmed with gold. Piet was also introduced to the Abbess who was similarly garbed. She had a pale, nun-like face and wore her cowl up, Piet, however, noted the extreme hardness of her pale blue eyes.

  He ventured to enquire about Beatrix.

&n
bsp; The Abbot waved a hand airily. “I have not got all the details at this stage,” he had said, “But I do gather she is giving some trouble.” The Abbot smiled almost genially. “Mark you, Mr. Lanners, that is not at all unusual at this stage.”

  “She is in the charge of Brother Anselm and Sister Martha,” stated the Abbess. “I shall introduce them to you shortly.”

  A few financial matters were then discussed. Everything was satisfactory to both parties.

  “Have you any idea of the girl’s length of stay?” enquired the Abbot.

  “No,” replied Piet. “At the moment, it is indefinite. I may re-consider this at a later stage.”

  “Very well,” said the Abbot, nodding gravely. Piet felt vaguely intimidated by this man. And by the Abbess too. Madame Vosges rather had the same effect. “Shall we go then?” asked the Abbess, rising. It was an order rather than a suggestion. Piet stood up, shook the Abbot’s hand and followed the Abbess from the tall-ceilinged, gothic-looking Study. Though they were high in the mountains, the whole building was exceedingly well-heated, Piet noticed.

  They entered a Refectory where there stood several long tables. A few people, both men and women were seated around, all wearing purple-coloured habits of full length. “These are some of the Brothers and Sisters,” said the Abbess. There was a young woman moving around the tables, picking up cups, plates and glasses and putting them on a tray. She was wearing a simple habit of pale lemon-yellow colour but this only just reached to the tops of her thighs. Those long thighs looked beautifully smooth and soft, thought Piet.

  “And she?” he enquired.

  “She is a Novice,” replied the Abbess. “We have three grades of Novices. In the first year they are known as Junior Novices and wear white habits. This girl is in her second year and wears a yellow habit. Girls in their third year wear blue habits and are known as Senior Novices.”