The Girls of Cropton Hall

by Stanlegh Meresith

  "Miss Markham!" she called. Everyone turned in surprise, none more so than Susan.

  "Thomas?" enquired the Head. "Your name is not on the list this evening. May I ask what you are doing here?"

  Rachel's heart was pounding furiously, but she plunged on. She had to make this work.

  "Please, Miss, I must say something." She was standing before the head now, slightly out of breath, her face flushed.

  "Very well, Thomas, but this had better be extremely urgent." Miss Markham did not look pleased.

  "It is, Miss." Rachel summoned all her courage. "Miss, it's about French, Miss, and why she was late for assembly this morning." Miss Markham's eyes maintained their steady penetration of Rachel's but she said nothing, so Rachel blundered on. "Miss, it was my fault. I hid her tie, Miss, so she'd be late." There, it was said. Rachel was blushing a deep red with the blatant lie and hoped desperately that Susie wouldn't blurt out the truth. She didn't dare look at her friend at that moment in case it gave the game away.

  "I see. Well, this is a very serious matter, Thomas. You are to be commended for your eleventh hour confession, but I'm sure you realise that there will be extremely painful consequences?"

  "Yes, Miss," muttered Rachel, greatly relieved that Miss Markham had fallen for it.

  "Atkinson," said the Head, "add Thomas to the end of the list. French, you will also wait. Sit on the bench, both of you." So saying she turned and strode back into her study calling, "First girl please."

  Atkinson said, "Watson," and the fifth-former got up, straightened her skirt and entered the dreaded study. As soon as the door was closed, Susie turned to Rachel with a wide-eyed expression that said, 'Are you mad?'

  She wasn't alone.

  "Thomas," said Atkinson, whispering but clearly agitated. "You didn't hide her tie! I was there! She forgot it! What're you playing at?"

  Rachel was fortunate that she and Atkinson had always got on - she even wondered if the older girl didn't fancy her a bit. "I'm sorry, Jean," she whispered. "I know it's crazy but Susie's already had eight with the strap today, and, and, I just had to do something."

  Atkinson, it seems, was one of the few girls in the school who hadn't heard about Susan's punishment that morning - she wasn't much interested in all the excitement about spankings. She looked a bit shocked and thought for a moment.

  "All right, but I wasn't there ... in the dorm, I mean, this morning, so I didn't know. Yes?" she said quietly but forcefully.

  "Of course," said Rachel, with a grateful smile. At that moment the sound of a swish and a thwapp was heard, followed by a high-pitched yelp from behind the study door. Susan put her hand on Rachel's knee and whispered, uncertainly,

  "Thanks, Rache." Rachel turned and gave her a smile. Bates, the other fifth -former waiting, just looked at her shoes and trembled.

  After three more strokes and three increasingly desperate yelps from within, Watson appeared at the door, her cheeks streaked with tears, clutching the seat of her skirt. As she slowly walked off down the corridor, the Head's voice was heard,

  "Next girl!"

  Atkinson touched Bates on the shoulder and the slightly plump brunette stood, took a deep breath and entered the study.

  She got six with the strap by the sound of it, but only cried out on the last one. Rachel clutched Susie's hand as they heard Bates approaching the other side of the door. When she appeared, Rachel stood up and tried to prepare herself. Though she enjoyed the feelings after being whacked, the wait and the whacking itself still made her afraid, and right now her heart was racing and her stomach in knots. Susan stood too, just as Miss Markham appeared in the doorway.

  "Thank you, Atkinson. Your usual efficient self. You may go to prep now." Atkinson said, a little wearily, "Thank you, Miss," and departed.

  "So, Miss Thomas, you deliberately hid French's tie?"

  "Yes, Miss," replied Rachel, trying to look ashamed when in fact she felt proud - scared, but proud.

  "And that caused French not only to jump the last steps in her hurry and batter Mrs Palmer, earning her a severe strapping, but also to be late for assembly," she turned to Susan, "...again."

  "Yes, Miss," they both intoned simultaneously.

  "Follow me." She led the way into the study and towards her large desk. "Shut the door after you." She sat down, placed her elbows on the wooden surround to the inlaid green leather surface, and clapped her hands softly together twice. The two girls lined up facing her, heads bowed.

  "That was an extremely mean and stupid thing to do, wasn't it, Thomas?"

  "Yes, Miss," said Rachel in a tiny voice.

  "So why did you do it?"

  Rachel continued to look down at the rich burgundy carpet and muttered, "Don't know, Miss."

  "Oh, come on, Thomas, you'll have to do better than that."

  "Just for fun, Miss." Rachel wondered how thoroughly Miss Markham was going to interrogate her, and whether she'd be able to sustain her story. The Head must know they were best friends, and it seemed a very odd thing for a friend to do.

  "I'm going to cane you very hard, Thomas. And, as French here was the unfortunate victim of your stupid fun ..." she emphasised the irony of the word, "she will stay and witness you getting the eight strokes you have earned yourself."

  Rachel flinched, and Susan let out a squeak of panic and started to cry.

  "You know where the senior cane is. Fetch it now please." While Susan continued to sniffle and look absolutely wretched, a dazed Rachel walked unsteadily over to the chest of drawers to fetch the cane. Her thoughts were a scrambled muddle: eight strokes? How could she possibly bear it? On the other hand, she'd be a hero. But how was Susie going to feel? Was Miss Markham terribly disappointed in her? Had she lost that respect she thought she saw last time they were here? How was she going to survive this?

  Miss Markham stood and came round the desk to receive the cane from the trembling Rachel.

  "Remove your knickers and give them to French." With shaking hands, Rachel obeyed. As she passed the green bundle to Susie, their eyes met and she saw the agonised indecision in her lover's eyes. With her own, Rachel tried to say, 'Don't worry, it's all right. I can do this," though that wasn't at all how she felt.

  "Bend over the desk." As Rachel did so, the Headmistress gave the cane two almighty swishes through the air, not two feet away from Susan, who flinched and cowered.

  Lifting Rachel's skirt and blazer up and out of the way, Miss Markham said, "Prepare yourself, Thomas. I intend to thrash you so severely you won't sit comfortably for a fortnight." She swished the cane again viciously. Rachel was terrified now, and awed by how horrible Miss Markham was being. Miss Markham stepped back and away and measured the full length of the cane, which she held by its very end, against the centre of Rachel's buttocks. She tapped the flesh firmly a couple of times and had raised the long cane high above her right shoulder when Susan cried out,

  "No, Miss, stop! You can't, it's not true, Miss!" all in a rush.

  Miss Markham immediately lowered her arm placed the cane on the desk to Rachel's left.

  "Thank you, French," she said calmly. "I wondered when we'd stop playing this little charade. Stand up, Thomas." Rachel got up. She felt a wonderful relief for a moment, before confusion and dread set in at the implications of the discovery. She didn't blame Susie. She found herself more worried about what Miss Markham thought of her. The latter once more resumed her seat.

  "Now, girls," she said, "You don't know me very well, do you?" The two were too stunned to do more than shake their heads. "I admire your courage, Thomas, in trying to deflect French's punishment onto yourself." Rachel's heart was uplifted and she felt a warm glow of relief and pride. "And I am very relieved, French, that you too had the courage to speak up before your best friend received the hardest cane stroke of her life, which I was quite prepared to deliver. However ..." She paused and looked from one to the other. "... I am VERY disappointed that you have both lied to me. Frankly, you have insulted my intellige
nce, Thomas, by thinking for one moment that I wouldn't see through this little plan of yours." Now Rachel's heart lurched the other way. The Head leaned back in her chair and steepled her hands together, tapping the index fingers of left and right against each other.

  "You, Thomas, put yourself forward for a caning, and that is what you will receive. You lied to me and that has consequences."

  "Yes, Miss," said Rachel contritely, almost glad that she'd have a chance to redeem herself in Miss Markham's eyes.

  "French, you cannot escape the proper punishment for your misdeeds, though I recognise this little scheme was not your idea. You have been late for assembly twice this week and that means a caning for you too. Four strokes. And I'm afraid I will have to add a further two for your part in the lie. Is that understood?" Susan nodded miserably. Rachel looked very crestfallen too. "However, French, in the light of your punishment earlier today, I am willing to give you a choice. You may receive all six of your strokes now and get them over with, or you may defer four of them till Monday morning."

  Susan didn't have to think for very long. Even the prospect of two on her bruised bottom was pretty terrifying, and even though it meant an unpleasant weekend of waiting, she quickly said,

  "Monday, please, Miss."

  "Very well. You will report to me here immediately after assembly. Is that understood?" Susan nodded. The Headmistress stood. "Thomas, put your knickers back on and go and stand facing the wall by the door. French, return this cane to the drawer and bring me a junior cane." Susan handed Rachel her knickers and picked up the cane. Rachel quickly climbed into her underwear again and walked over to stand facing the wall. Miss Markham watched her go, thinking how like her mother, Patricia, she was.

  Susan stood looking down into the drawer. There were four of the smaller junior canes in total. Which one wouldn't hurt so much, she wondered? She had no idea and picked the straightest one thinking it might not be so bendy. She carried it ruefully over to the waiting Headmistress.

  "Knickers down and bend over, French." Miss Markham swished the cane lightly, getting the feel of it.

  Rachel began to turn, to check Susie was all right. As she did so, she noticed a mirror on the adjacent wall to her left. By shifting a bit to her own left, she managed to line up a view of Miss Markham's desk, and could see Susan now bending over and reaching out to grip the far edge. She saw the Headmistress look closely at Susan's bottom before she stepped back and away to line up the first stroke. Rachel's heart welled up with sorrow: No! Don't hurt Susie! Please don't! she cried inwardly. But the first stroke fell and Susan yelped and her legs flailed and she shook her tousled blond hair.

  Poor Susie, poor, darling Susie! Tears were rolling down Rachel's cheeks, obscuring her view of the next stroke, so she didn't see that it actually landed quite high up on Susan's behind, above where the strap had wreaked its painful swathes. Susan yelped again, but it was over. For now. Rachel saw her pushing herself up and wiping her eyes. She realised now that Miss Markham had in fact been quite merciful. Susie didn't appear to be too distraught: she was clutching her bum but she seemed to have stopped crying. Rachel's impression was confirmed when she heard Susan say,

  "Thank you, Miss," in a tiny voice as she pulled her knickers up.

  "Thank you, Susan," responded the Head, kindly, "and may I suggest that you avoid any trouble this weekend, because there will be no further deferment and I shall not be quite so lenient on Monday."

  "Yes, Miss. I'll ... be very careful, Miss, really I will."

  "Very well. Go and stand in Thomas' place." Susan made her way towards the wall where Rachel stood and Rachel quickly looked straight ahead.

  "Thomas, your turn," called Miss Markham. Rachel turned and made her way nervously to the desk. She felt a little frightened but also quite aroused. She hadn't tasted the junior cane, but she was confident she could bear it. Miss Markham stood impassively, swinging the cane up and down gently.

  "Knickers down and bend over." Rachel looked up at her Headmistress as she reached under her skirt to lower her panties, but Miss Markham didn't meet her gaze. Rachel bent across the desk and took a deep breath. She felt the Headmistress lift her skirt and blazer out of the way and then, again, those two taps of the cane on her bottom. She braced herself.

  "For lying to me no fewer than three times, Thomas, you will receive six strokes."

  The cane swished and sliced into Rachel's buttocks just above the middle. It stung like crazy but it didn't bite like the senior cane had. She shifted a little. The sting was entirely bearable, and after its first intensity had worn off, it even felt quite nice.

  The second one fell lower down and again it made Rachel wince but it was by no means intolerable. Two lines of stinging heat now zinged across her bum and Rachel felt even more aroused. Almost as if she sensed this, Miss Markham gave the third stroke, lower down again, considerably more power and Rachel, caught by surprise, emitted an "Oooh!" and wriggled her bottom in response.

  The fourth and fifth were equally challenging, and fell almost on top of each other, low down. Rachel gasped at each stroke and was in serious discomfort now. She was breathing heavily and the arousal had retreated. She waited apprehensively for the sixth, but Miss Markham was taking her time. Rachel had just begun to turn her head to the left to look when a cracking thwack bit into the join of buttocks and thigh, and Rachel let out a yell of real pain.

  "Yeeeoww!" Her legs flew up and she writhed over the desk. Ouch! That one had hurt!

  "Right, up you get Thomas, and don't you ever dare lie to me again," said Miss Markham firmly. Rachel eased herself up, her hands going straight to the line of that last stroke. It was still burning and throbbing.

  She looked up at her Headmistress again and this time she was met with a slightly bemused, inquisitive but penetrating look which seemed to see everything: her earlier arousal; her looking in the mirror; her enjoyment of the first two strokes ... Rachel looked down quickly and blushed. But knickers back ... ouch ... in place, she looked up again and said, "Thank you, Miss," humbly and with feeling. Miss Markham just gazed at her, with the hint of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

  "All right. Run along, the pair of you. There's prep work to be done." At which she turned and went to replace the junior cane in the middle drawer. Rachel went over and joined Susan, who had opened the door, and they left together, as they had come in. Both had stinging, throbbing backsides, but both, too, felt relieved it was over. In Susan's case, for now. Just for now.

  13. The Agony and the Ecstasy

  Edith Mary Bainbridge: her diary

  September 10th

  Just time before bed while I have my cocoa to say a bit about tonight's delightful bridge session. We gathered after dinner in Verily's study, and Verily very kindly provided a choice of liqueurs, so I had my favourite crème de menthe - two glasses! Such a treat! Unfortunately, Verily and I weren't quite on the same wavelength in our bidding, despite thinking we'd got it sorted out yesterday. Mind you, Margaret and the Countess are very canny players! They pushed us cleverly beyond our limit two or three times which cost us a lot of points above the line. In the end they won two rubbers to one and by quite a long chalk - had to hand over five shillings and sixpence! Still, it was enormous fun, and I'm so pleased to have these regular get-togethers to look forward to. We're gathering again in a fortnight.

  Margaret seemed unusually pre-occupied, though it didn't (unfortunately!) affect her play. She did, however, raise an interesting topic during the last rubber, and the ensuing discussion seemed to get her full attention for the first time during the evening. Apparently, she'd been passing the sixth formers' common room when she overheard some of the girls having a discussion about whackings. Intrigued, she'd hovered just out of sight. Margaret gathered from certain remarks that Thomas had already been showing the other girls the marks from a caning she'd had from Verily earlier. And then Atkinson had asked what all the fuss was about, why everyone was so fascinated with getting wha
cked. And Thomas (Margaret was pretty sure it was Thomas) had said it was 'kind of sexy'.

  "So, colleagues, let me ask," said Margaret, having related what she'd heard, "why should girls think of a whacking as 'sexy'?"

  "Really, Margaret," said the Countess, laughing. "Don't you know?" Margaret blushed and claimed she honestly didn't. The Countess went on,

  "It is, I believe, widely accepted, my dear friend," (the Countess often uses this phrase with those she likes) "that the bottom is an erogenous zone, and throughout history there are many, many instances of people, often religious groups, indulging in the application of anything from the hand to a whip to a person's derriere for the purposes of pleasure. Have you not heard of masochists, Margaret?"

  "Of course, Countess, they're the opposite of sadists," said Margaret, her blush even deeper by now. "They like to be hurt."

  "Exactly, my dear friend," said the Countess, "and more often than not that pain is craved in the derriere, and it gives a kind of sexual pleasure. Your sixth-former, Thomas did you say? ... probably has these feelings too, without perhaps fully understanding them. Why else would she use the word 'sexy'? It's not at all unusual, Margaret."

  "Indeed no," said Verily. "I have noticed Thomas has a touch of this inclination, and it raises the question as to whether a whacking is, then, a fitting punishment." This made us all think, and rather worried me. "However, in my view," Verily continued, "it can still act as a deterrent. And anyway, what are we to do? We cannot punish some girls this way and others not. It's best left as it is while we work to shape characters such as Thomas through our good influence and understanding. If she earns herself repeated punishments, so be it, but gradually she will grow and mature."

  As so often, Verily's wise words settled the matter to everyone's satisfaction. Margaret, I noticed, seemed much perkier thereafter. She's always been a shy woman. I hardly remember her as a student here, so retiring was she, though I do remember Mrs Hardacre talking about her fondly - and then of course she bequeathed Margaret her butter-pat. I've been pondering that - it seems an odd sort of gift - I wonder why?