by Maggie Ryan
“No…no, Ma’am,” Willamena admitted, her eyes moving to glance at Charles. Charles saw Eleanor nod at him from where she stood next to the woman.
“Willamena,” Charles said making his voice firm. “I believe Miss Summers asked what your husband would do if he found you to be so naughty. Answer her, if you please,” Charles instructed. The woman flushed hotly as she remembered her husband’s corrections of past transgressions.
“He…he would puni…punish me, Sir,” she said very softly. Charles nodded as if expecting nothing less.
“How would he punish you, Willamena? What would he do when he discovered you continue to do the same naughty things even after several warnings?” Charles asked as he removed his jacket and placed it across the back of his chair.
“He…he would sp…spank me, Sir,” she confessed. Edward saw the girl’s eyes widen as he began to roll up the sleeves of his shirt. He knew she understood he was preparing to do exactly that. “No, please…I…I won’t do it again, please don’t do this,” Willamena said, turning back to beg Eleanor for leniency.
“You were a naughty little girl, Willamena,” Eleanor said firmly as she shook her head. “Naughty girls need to have their bare bottoms punished, don’t they, little one?” Eleanor asked using words that she knew put her students into the proper attitude for a sound spanking. “Naughty little girls, be they eighteen, twenty-five or even fifty, need to bare their bottoms and submit to discipline to help them learn to be good little girls for their husbands or Papas.”
“Please!” the young woman begged again seeing Charles moving toward the large urn. As he selected the cane he would use, she began to sob harder.
“I…I won’t be naughty again! I promise I will be a good little girl. Please, please, Ma’am, please won’t you just paddle me? Please, oh God, please don’t let him cane me!” Willamena begged. She was no longer the dignified Baroness Johansson, she was simply Willamena, a girl who had been very naughty and knew she would be punished for her choices. Eleanor guided her to the settee and turned her to face it.
“You’ve already been spanked and paddled to no avail, little one. I’m afraid we both know you’ve earned a good, sound caning, Willamena. Now, little one, remove your drawers and lift your skirts for Professor Lloyds. You need to show us how sorry you truly are by submitting yourself to your punishment. You will feel far better after you’ve paid the price for your naughtiness,” Eleanor said. Charles watched as the young woman sobbed but obeyed. She soon had her drawers dropping to the floor and stepped from them, bending to pick them up and folding them before handing them to Eleanor. Charles watched as Willamena took a deep breath before reaching for the hem of her skirts. She gave him one last look, her eyes shining with her tears, her lower lip trembling even as she silently begged for mercy. Charles felt a moment’s hesitation as he saw her tear-stained face. He understood that if he were offered the position of Headmaster, many a young woman would be making a tearful plea for forgiveness when sent to his office for corporal discipline. Charles realized that Eleanor was watching his every move. Though he vividly remembered smacking Lucille’s bottom, he knew it had gone mostly unnoticed by the girl. By the time he was done here, though, he knew that Willamena would be very aware that she had been soundly disciplined. He steeled himself to do his duty to the best of his ability.
“Skirts well up, Miss,” Charles instructed, and then pointed at the settee with the cane. “Bend right over, elbows on the settee and lift your bottom high,” he further instructed. He didn’t realize he was holding his breath until the young woman sobbed, but bent over the settee after pulling her skirts well up to expose her bottom to him. Charles saw her well-rounded bottom pushed towards him. He briefly compared hers to that of Lucille’s. Whereas Lucille’s was much smaller and heart-shaped, Willamena’s bottom was much broader and far plumper. Charles quickly realized that just as every individual was different, he would soon have the opportunity to compare many a naked posterior if he earned the position of Headmaster.
“Onto your elbows, Willamena,” Eleanor reminded her, and Charles knew she was also reminding him to make sure his instructions were always followed. Charles felt his throat tighten as he watched her lower her elbows to the settee, which both lifted her bottom and caused it to push further out into the room. He glanced at Eleanor; she gave him a nod.
Charles took a deep breath and lifted the cane. He remembered the lessons with the pillow and stepped forward to carefully measure the distance needed. As he laid the cane across the offered buttocks of Baroness Johansson, he felt a calm descend over him. “Stay in position, Willamena,” he said sternly. “Your behavior has earned you a dozen. Extra strokes will be added if you fail in your duty to submit properly to your discipline. You’ve admitted your naughtiness and it is time for your bottom to pay the price with a good, hard caning. Are you ready to begin, young lady?”
Willamena gave a sob at both his words and the firm, no-nonsense way in which they were delivered. Both his tone and his instructions reminded her of her strict husband and the need to submit swept over her. She clenched both her eyes and her bottom tightly even as she answered, “Yes, Sir, I’m so sorry I was naughty, Sir.” Charles nodded and tapped her bottom gently.
“I know you are, but we are here to take care of that naughtiness. Relax your bottom, Baroness, let your buttocks relax and hang loose so that each stroke will do its job to teach you your proper duty,” Charles said and Eleanor found herself very impressed with his calm yet authoritative manner. Willamena’s soft cry spoke of her embarrassment at his instruction, but they both watched as the young woman softened her buttocks until they were rounded and loose. It was obvious Charles had been paying very close attention during the past week.
Charles lifted the cane and placed the first stroke. As it cracked across the top of the offered cheeks, Willamena moaned deeply. Charles saw that, though the stroke had landed where intended, the wheal was not immediately apparent as he knew it should have been. He tapped her bottom again and then lifted the cane higher over his shoulder. The second stroke cracked much louder when he remembered to flick his wrist with the blow. Willamena lifted her head and cried out loudly as the wheal rose on her bottom only slightly below the first. Charles stepped a bit further away and snapped the cane forward again.
“Noooo!” the woman sobbed, her head arched back at the fire of the stroke. “Oh, please, Sir…please, not so hard…I…I can’t bear it,” she sobbed, but remained in position. Charles looked to Eleanor, who simply shook her head and smiled.
“You shall bear it, Willamena, and thank me for it after we are done,” Charles said, as he tapped the cane lower on her bottom cheeks. Stroke after stroke cracked against Willamena’s bottom, forming almost a perfect pattern down the surface of her buttocks. Charles’ aim had only allowed a slight overlapping of two wheals. Willamena was soon wailing, her knees bending after each stroke was given and received. Nine lines of fire decorated her rump before Charles paused and allowed the girl to compose herself before receiving further instructions.
“Naughty little girls need to have a hot bottom to remind them to be good girls. Now, bend further forward please, Baroness, and push up your naughty bottom so you may accept the next strokes right on your sit-spot,” Charles ordered. Willamena sobbed hard, her bottom on fire, as she bent forward, covering her face with her hands to willingly submit the most sensitive part of her bottom to the cane. Charles nodded, appreciating her immediate submission, and was further pleased when she remembered to loosen her thoroughly whealed bottom.
“Very good, Willamena, your Papa would be pleased,” Charles said before lifting the cane from the offered bottom.
Strokes ten and eleven cracked loudly in the room, each raising a wheal along the line where her bottom met the tops of her thighs. Willamena was wailing now, her face buried in her cupped hands, her bottom wagging up and down and side to side in a futile effort to ease the burning across her cheeks. Charles stepped slightly t
o the side and tapped the cane on a diagonal across the wheals raised on her bottom. He had learned that this was considered ‘closing the gate’ and as he gave her the last stroke, harder than any previous, the wheal bloomed instantly across the previous wheals as she shrieked from its fire. He smiled noticing that the lines did, in fact, resemble an innocent garden gate.
“Ohhhh, please…I’m so sorry, Sir! Please…no more…” Willamena sobbed as her bottom bounced wildly. Charles wasn’t even aware when he stepped closer to her and ran his hand across the wheals he had painted onto her posterior. He was amazed at the heat each gave off and realized he could feel the ridges of each wheal. Eleanor remained silent, allowing him to complete the session as he saw fit, though knew she would remind him that he shouldn’t physically touch the punished bottoms of his future students. For now, she understood his unconscious desire to feel the tactile evidence of his discipline.
“Willamena,” Charles said softly. “You may rise and go to the corner to consider your behavior. Keep your skirts up and your caned bottom properly displayed.” Baroness Willamena Johansson, a respected woman of upper society, slowly stood, her face tear-streaked as she kept her skirts off her well caned bottom.
“Than…thank you, Sir,” she said.
“You are most welcome. You did very well in offering your bottom, little one. I am sure your husband would be proud of you for accepting your caning so well. I’m proud of you as well,” Charles said and smiled at her. She returned his smile with one of her own before walking to the corner where she buried her nose against the wall and pushed her bottom well out into the room. Charles kept her on display for a half-hour as he simply watched her after he returned the cane to the urn. Eleanor seated herself at her desk and entered the details of the session in a journal. She would go over everything with the woman’s husband upon his return. She smiled as she made her entry. She knew the man was a strict disciplinarian and wondered if perhaps his little wife had simply missed having her bottom tended to. Regardless, her bottom now bore a dozen distinct wheals with only the first less prominent than the others. It would be at least a few days before Willamena sat without remembering this session. Eleanor knew Charles would not only be quite capable of handling the position of Headmaster, he had the proper attitude when administering a harsh caning. His strokes had been purposeful, and without a doubt, hurt quite fiercely, yet he remained calm and concerned about the poor miscreant’s feelings. His choice of words when lecturing the poor girl had been more than adequate to enforce the feeling of guilt and the need to willingly atone for her naughtiness. Eleanor knew many a young student would learn a great deal when faced with disappointing the young, attractive Headmaster of their school. Forcing a naturally kind and gentle man to assume the role necessary to attend to their naughty bottoms would assure his future students worked hard at learning to conduct themselves appropriately. Eleanor smiled; she knew young women would be quick to discuss just how effectively the new Headmaster could wield a cane. If hearing the Baroness fairly howl as the cane bit into her ample rump was any example, the entire student body would soon know it would behoove them to avoid being sent to Headmaster Lloyds’ office.
After the punished Baroness received Charles’ permission to remove herself from the corner, Charles handed her the discarded drawers and watched as she stepped into them, a blush upon her cheeks.
“I don’t expect you’ll forget your husband’s wishes for good behavior any time soon,” Charles said, as the woman stood after adjusting her clothing.
“No, Sir, I’m sorry I was so naughty. I’m sorry you had to cane me but thank you for the lesson,” Willamena said softly, but with respect in her tone. Charles was surprised when she unexpectedly threw her arms around him. He hugged her gently in return, knowing she was seeking a bit of comfort after her painful discipline.
“Just see to your better behavior, my dear. I’m sure your husband will have another lesson for your bottom upon his return,” Charles said, and then took her arm and led her to the door. He opened the door for her.
She turned back into the room, “Thank you, Miss Summers, I’ll try to be a better role model for my sisters,” she said.
“I’m sure you shall, my dear,” Eleanor said with a smile. “Now, hurry along, as I’m sure Nanny Bishop is waiting to put you to bed. Remember, no rubbing that aching bottom, Baroness. Remind Nanny to tie your hands to the bed. I would hate to have to call you back into my office again this evening if your hands were discovered where they are not to be.”
Willamena blushed hotly, understanding the unspoken warning, and trying to ignore the evidence of her arousal that was moistening her inner thighs. She nodded, “Yes, Ma’am. I…I’ll remind my nanny, Ma’am. Good night.” Charles watched her walk down the hall, again amazed at the realization that no one would necessarily know that the Baroness had just gotten her bottom caned. He closed the door and turned back to Eleanor. He was unable to hide the smile of satisfaction lighting his face. Eleanor smiled back.
******
The occupants of the parlor had been silent as Charles related his story. Even Lucas, who had no prior knowledge of the reason for the man attending Eleanor’s school, was impressed. He could easily picture the scene. He glanced at Edward and saw him smile and nod his approval.
“He did an excellent job, Edward,” Eleanor said. “I have no reason to doubt that Charles will make a fine Headmaster for the school. He not only saw to her discipline with a firm hand, she left feeling far better after paying for her naughtiness, without feeling shamed by the experience.” Edward had to admit he, too, was impressed. If Eleanor felt she could praise the Professor so highly, he believed her every word.
“I can’t thank you enough, Eleanor,” Charles said, and gave her a slight bow. “Though I now admit that young women need a firm hand, I will always believe in giving comfort after their poor little bottoms have paid the price of their naughtiness. I will do my very best to keep your high regard.” Eleanor laughed, the sound delightful in the room.
“I’m sure you shall, Charles,” she agreed and then continued, “perhaps a certain ward we both know won’t agree, but, Sir, you shall make a fine disciplinarian for any naughty bottom.” Charles smiled; Lucas frowned. Though he had already known that this man was courting Lucille, he had no knowledge that this lifestyle was totally new to him. Edward saw his friend frown and was quick to ward off any untoward statements Lucas might make.
“I’m sure the school board will agree, Charles,” Edward said. “I believe congratulations are in order, Headmaster Lloyds.”
Charles stood as Edward came forward to shake his hand. “Thank you, Edward,” Charles said. “But Sir, I must ask for your patience in informing the board.” Edward was very seldom surprised, but he was at Charles’ comment. “I feel I need to speak with Miss Furniss before I accept the position.” Lucas shook his head, wondering at the man’s indecision. What sort of man turned down an opportunity to a better life, not only for himself, but for any future wife and possible children? What did Miss Furniss have to do with a man making the best decision for his family? Edward didn’t speak for a moment, but then nodded.
“As you wish, Charles,” he conceded. “I don’t suggest you wait long, Charles. It is important that whoever takes the position do so at the earliest opportunity. The board is anxious to have the matter settled, and the man will also need time to settle into the position before the term begins.”
“I understand, Sir,” Charles said, knowing he was taking a chance on losing the position. He wanted to accept it immediately, and knew he could do a very good job with the added responsibility. However, having witnessed Lucille’s intense dislike, he found himself torn. Eleanor also wondered at his hesitancy, but didn’t speak. She stood and put her empty glass down onto the table by her chair.
“It’s getting late, Edward,” she said with a smile. “Thank you so much for a lovely evening. It was a pleasure to see you again, Lucas. Shall I be watching for your vis
it to meet my newest little ones?” Lucas smiled, took her hand and pressed a kiss against it.
“You never know, Eleanor,” he said, charmingly. “I promise to visit if for nothing else than to see you again.” If Eleanor was surprised at his words, she didn’t show it. She nodded and was soon walking with Charles towards the front door. As they all reached the door, Charles turned to Edward.
“I’d like to call on Miss Furniss tomorrow, if that meets with your approval, Edward,” he said with a quick look towards Lucas. He had determined that the man was a houseguest of Edward’s, and would be seeing a great deal more of the young woman than he. He intended to give the man a run for his money. Remembering Lucy’s response to the man, Charles smiled at the thought that she seemed barely able to stomach Edward’s friend.
“That will be fine, Charles, and I’m sure Lucille will be pleased,” Edward said. Charles shook both men’s hands and then escorted Eleanor down to the waiting carriage.
Chapter 7
Edward and Lucas settled in Edward’s study. After taking a sip of his brandy, Lucas leaned back in his chair.
“Okay, I admit it,” he said with a smile. “You can pick the best of the lot. Your girls are beautiful, though Lord knows how you managed to get Louisa to agree to wed you,” he joked.
Edward smiled knowing his friend was just plain jealous. “What can I say, her taste is impeccable,” Edward said. He then told his friend of meeting Louisa and all that had transpired to bring both girls under his roof. When he finished, Lucas sat quietly for several minutes.
“She has a fierce spirit, Edward,” he said, and saw that Edward agreed. “Despite her attire and her obvious submission to authority, I believe she is far more the hellcat than the kitten,” Lucas observed. Edward sat back in his chair, slightly surprised at how astute his friend was. He had described Lucille to perfection. Though she had come a very long way within the last few weeks, there remained a band of steel beneath her soft exterior.
