The Girls of Cropton Hall

by Stanlegh Meresith

  Miss Dawson lifted the blue skirt up out of the way and placed her left hand on the small of Rachel's back. Then she lined up the butter-pat to deliver the first whack.

  As the mistress was partly facing towards the girls at their desks, only Wilson and Linton, in the back row, were able to get a clear view of proceedings (and even then only by surreptitious sideways glances) without incurring her wrath. But there was no doubt from the utter silence in the room that very few minds were focused on a perusal of Wuthering Heights at this moment. The loud CRACK of the first whack was followed by a loud gasp from Rachel and some shifting and fidgeting on a number of seats.

  Miss Dawson had aimed that first stroke slightly to the outer side of the middle of Rachel's right buttock and she lined up the second to match its predecessor on her left.

  "Eeesh!" gasped Rachel again. She bent slightly at the knees and wiggled her legs back and forth before straightening them again. Fortunately neither whack had fallen on the sit-spots Miss Markham had so efficiently targeted, but now Rachel felt the touch of the wood right on that sorest area of her right cheek and she tensed, screwing up her eyes in cowering anticipation.

  SMACK!

  The rectangle of hard wood hit home resoundingly and Rachel let rip a howl of pain: "Yeeeooow!" She half rose up, her right hand reaching for the afflicted spot. It hovered nearby for a second before she lowered it again and resumed her grip on her laces, but again her knees bent and now she wriggled her bottom furiously from side to side in an effort to ride out the hellish stinging. Tears smarted her eyes and she braced herself for the next which she deduced, correctly, would punish the same spot on her left buttock.

  She wanted to beg, she really did, though she knew she couldn't, especially not in front of her classmates. President of SWACK can't take four with a butter-pat? The Society of Knightesses would be dead in the water before it was even heard of. She gritted her teeth and took a deep breath.

  When it came, with another shudderingly loud crack, Rachel couldn't prevent herself screeching in agony even though she'd determined to bear it as quietly as she could. She swayed in her bent-over position, and tried to breathe through the searing, burning fury that engulfed her bottom.

  "You may get up now, Thomas," said Miss Dawson, standing back. She cast a glance over the rows of desks and caught one or two half-turned faces which quickly bent to their texts again.

  Rachel rose stiffly and placed a hand on each buttock, rubbing vigorously and wincing.

  "Go and sit down, and I expect fully completed notes by tomorrow, is that understood?" said Miss Dawson.

  "Yes, Miss," said Rachel in a croaky voice, which she immediately cleared. A tear had rolled down her left cheek and her left arm briefly left soothing-duty to wipe it away. Dignity was everything in this situation, she thought, especially for an important Office holder such as herself. She took a deep breath, removed her hands and glanced around anxiously, hoping no one had seen her rubbing. She then arranged her skirt and her face into as ordered a normality as she could muster and attempted to make her way very ordinarily back to her seat: but her steps were awkward and betrayed her obvious discomfort. She noted with satisfaction though the admiring look she got from Emma Wilson, whose eyes shone with a slightly fevered fascination.

  ---oOo---

  Edith Mary Bainbridge: her diary

  Monday September 13th 1953

  It's hard to believe that we're only entering the second week of term! The school has been transformed! Verily has had the most remarkable effect and has achieved it in an extraordinarily short time. The silence during assembly is typical: Clarissa's feebleness seems even more absurd when set beside the absolute command Verily manages to achieve. And she keeps us all on our toes with her new initiatives, the latest being the study card, which I think will prove very effective.

  She asked me along to discuss the Head Girl issue this afternoon. As I'd suspected she would, Bennett turned down Verily's offer - silly, foolish, girl! Such an honour, simply thrown away! Verily was quite equable about it however.

  "It was always a bit of a long shot," she said. "And even by asking I think I may have helped young Bennett to grow up a bit and reflect on her habit of kicking against the pricks as it were."

  She asked me what I thought of Pearson as an alternative, and I must say that I was immediately struck by the notion. We had considered Pearson in our discussions last term but she'd seemed too 'invisible', not assertive enough; Clarissa hardly knew her anyway. But this term, perhaps because of the incident with Monica, Pearson has gained in stature. She's certainly a responsible young woman and her friendship with Bennett may serve her, and us, well. I said as much and left Verily mulling it over.

  Meanwhile, I had to deal with that Thomas girl again. Really! She's a veritable magnet for trouble!

  I was walking past the First XI hockey team at practice with Monica. I decided to stop and watch for a minute or two - Monica is such an excellent coach to the girls and we think we've got a chance of a clean sweep this term. I'd been standing there barely a minute when Thomas, for some extraordinary reason, suddenly lost her temper completely, shouted "Bloody hell!" and whacked the ball off the field, away into the bushes. She then threw down her stick and started to march off. Monica blew her whistle furiously but the obstinate minx ignored her completely and continued to leave the pitch!

  Well! It was lucky I was there. This display of tantrum, coupled with the swearing and the inconvenience caused (Pearson had to run off and scour the bushes for the ball, delaying practice by several minutes) called for instant action. I waved to Monica to indicate I would deal with the matter, and I strode quickly to cut Thomas off at the pass, as it were. She obviously hadn't seen me watching because she was suitably horrified when I caught up with her, grasped her by the ear and marched her off to the changing-room.

  Several of the Under-16s were having their showers and changing but I thought, never mind, it might bring Thomas down a peg or two to get her just deserts in front of her juniors. Instructing her to stand in the corner opposite the door, just near the opening into the shower area where everyone would see, I also made her place her hands on her head so that nobody would be in any doubt as to what was going on. I considered handing her over to Verily but knew she was busy writing the new prospectus.

  I deliberately let Thomas wait several minutes while I engaged some of the younger girls in some friendly banter - young Wilson was there, full of excitement about the game they'd just played; she'd scored twice apparently and was very pleased with herself. I noticed Simpson too, looking over at Thomas with that mixture of curiosity and sympathy the girls often show. Strange girl though, Simpson - still can't quite fathom her.

  Eventually I made quite a show of collecting the cane from the cupboard and swishing it several times behind where Thomas was standing. I noticed her flinching and felt a twinge of pity for a moment but the image of her childish petulance on the hockey pitch - and in the First XI no less - drove all sympathy from my mind. She needed to be taught a lesson and a jolly good one at that! My only regret was that, with other girls present, it would have to be administered over her underwear. However, I made her take her skirt off completely - she'd be showering in a minute anyway - and stand back from the bench and touch her toes.

  I had to bark at some of the younger ones to go about their business as several of them dawdled nearby, and then I proceeded to give Thomas a very firm six of the best. My aim is pretty good and I managed more or less to work my way down her bottom (a very mature one for her age) laying on parallel strokes with the last two finding the lower curves that are of course somewhat more painful.

  I was surprised at her reaction: I remembered Verily saying something about Thomas being quite a tough cookie, even reminding her of herself at that age. But Thomas seemed to find even the first stroke - and it was only a junior cane - absolutely excruciating. I won't say she wasn't brave - she stayed down obediently and was clearly trying her utmost not to mak
e a fuss or cry out histrionically - but the way she gasped and groaned and wriggled herself all over the place, you'd think she'd never been caned before! Her face once I let her up was streaked with tears and really a very pathetic picture. I must say it made my heart melt and I offered some kind words and kept any further admonishment to a minimum. I left her to shower and change.

  Still puzzled after dinner, I thought I'd have a look in the punishment book and there, of course, was the answer: the foolish girl had managed to get herself whacked not only by Verily in the morning but also by Margaret before lunch. No wonder she was squirming this way and that! I felt very sorry for her and I was a little surprised she hadn't tried to tell me, but it proved the accuracy of Verily's assessment of the girl. And tough cookies tend to take their medicine, no matter what.

  ---oOo---

  At about eleven that night, Rachel lay awake in the dark, on her side, exploring her exceedingly sore bottom with her fingers whilst she made some mental calculations: using the points system she'd been working out in English (before she'd been so rudely interrupted) by her reckoning her hat-trick of punishments today meant she'd overtaken Susie. She didn't think there could be any other girls who'd got as many points and she felt a glow of pride that she was the most whacked, caned girl in the school at that moment.

  And there was another, more physical, glow gradually building as she shifted in her bed, a glow that eventually made her get up and steal, a burglar in search of love's treasure, very quietly across to Susie's bed. She edged herself in and felt immediately the warmth of Susie's body against her own. Half expecting her, Susie responded with a long, deep kiss.

  After a minute, Rachel took Susie's right hand and gently guided it down to her bottom. Susie ran her palm softly over the surface of her punished friend's cheeks before grasping the lower, fleshiest part of Rachel's right buttock and gently but firmly squeezing the sore flesh. Rachel inhaled sharply and felt her orgasm forming its tingling ranks, building like the bulbous clouds of an imminent warm tropical storm ready to burst and invade her entirely in the dark of the September night.

  19. Of Arnica, Motherlessness, Mint Sauce and Buddhism

  Rachel was just easing her knickers up over her still very sore buttocks next morning (with Alice catching a surreptitious eyeful while she tied her tie) when a hush fell on the dormitory. Rachel looked up to see Miss Dawson standing in the doorway.

  "Thomas, French, my sitting-room the moment you're dressed, please." And then she was gone, leaving Rachel with a pounding heart. 'Oh, no!' she thought, 'What have I done now?' Her eyes started to fill with tears. The thought of another whacking at this moment really scared her. For a horrible moment she wondered if the mistress somehow knew about her and Susie last night, and she immediately looked over at her beloved, who returned a half-puzzled, half-frightened gaze as she struggled to get her socks straight. Then Rachel glanced over at Atkinson, the dorm captain, for any sign that she knew what was going on. Jean was looking back at her but just shrugged her shoulders as if to say, 'Don't ask me.' Alice, of course, couldn't resist.

  "Uh oh!" she piped. "Looks like someone's in for the high jump ... yet again!"

  "Shut up, Jennings," said Jean firmly, sensing Rachel was upset. Alice pouted but kept quiet. Susan, too, had a pounding heart and her shaking hands made tying her tie so impossible she gave up and simply walked over to Rachel and stood there holding it out. Rachel sighed and gave her a look of motherly condescension before efficiently knotting and straightening it for her. They gazed into each other's eyes and Rachel saw the tears gathering in Susie too. She took a deep breath, knowing that whatever was about to happen, she needed to be brave for her friend.

  "Come in," called Miss Dawson. Rachel pushed open the door which was already ajar and Susie followed. This was the first time they'd been back in this room since the first night whacking with the butter-pat, and both girls' eyes went immediately to the lid of the piano where that painful implement had been lying that time. It wasn't there.

  "Right, girls," said their Dormitory Mistress. "I've called you in here to give you this." She held out a cardboard packet about the same size as the carton for a tube of toothpaste. On the side was written ARNICA CREAM in large brown lettering. Rachel took it, looking puzzled but very relieved.

  "Thomas, Miss Bainbridge popped in earlier to have a word. As your Dormitory Mistress, it is one of my duties to ensure that all the girls in my charge are in good health. Miss Bainbridge informed me, having checked the Punishment Book, that you had been whacked by the Headmistress yesterday morning prior to our unfortunate - but necessary - encounter in English. And, if I know Miss Markham, she didn't just give you a couple of light pats, did she?"

  "No, Miss," said Rachel, blushing and looking down.

  "Furthermore, it seems that Miss Bainbridge herself gave you six strokes of the cane in the afternoon." She paused. "Thomas, you're a very silly girl, even if you are a very brave one! Because those latter punishments took place in front of other girls, neither myself nor Miss Bainbridge could know how sore you must already have been, and yet you didn't say a word! Especially to Miss Bainbridge! Why on earth didn't you speak up, girl? We're not monsters here!"

  "I ... I didn't know it was allowed, Miss," said Rachel meekly. Miss Dawson gave her a sceptical look for a moment, before appearing to accept this explanation.

  "Very well, but in future you must inform us if you have been punished very recently, is that understood? I'm not saying you will escape further punishment but you will be given time to recover. Now, I'm afraid this arnica cream works best immediately after the hurt has occurred, and your trait- ... your bruises are now many hours old, but it will still help. So I suggest you bend over the sofa here ..." she smiled wrily, "... and let French rub some - very carefully, Susan - into the sorest areas."

  Rachel and Susan both blushed furiously at this proposal but they were so relieved that they weren't bending over the sofa for another purpose that they set about following the mistress' instruction. Rachel gave Susan the packet, lifted her skirt, gingerly lowered her knickers again and bent over the back of the sofa. Both Susan and Miss Dawson took a sharp intake of breath when they saw the purplish-red marks and the darker bruising beneath, as well as the five or six visible stripes crossing Rachel's buttocks. Miss Dawson broke the silence.

  "My, my! You are a sight, Thomas."

  Susan was struggling with the end of the cardboard package, unable to find an opening, and then she dropped it.

  "Tsk! Here, give it to me, French," said Miss Dawson. Susan bent to pick it up and handed it to her Dorm Mistress who took the package and tore the end open easily. "There." She moved away to stand in front of the fire, and watched, rather bemused.

  "Thank you, Miss," squeaked Susie, still not quite able to believe she was standing here, now, about to rub cream into the bottom of the one person in the world she loved the most.

  Both girls would later agree that this was among the more embarrassing experiences of their young lives. And both would also later confess, with much giggling, that they had found it rather arousing, despite the awkwardness of this intimacy occurring under the kindly gaze of the mistress. Rachel had had to suppress the urge to express her pleasure in a series of satisfied moans, and Susan's mind had been filled with naughty, loving things she had wanted to say as her fingers roved gently over the soft flesh of Rachel's painfully colourful bottom. But they managed to complete the application of the salve without revealing anything more than their extreme embarrassment - both had very red faces once Rachel stood and replaced her clothing - and they left Miss Dawson's sitting-room with such relief, it bordered on elation.

  "Gosh!" said Susan, as they scuttled away down the stairs. "Alice will NEVER believe this!"

  "Never mind Alice ... " replied Rachel, her hands on her bottom which felt protected by the cream but was also throbbing slightly from Susan's attentions, lovingly gentle though they'd been. "I'm not sure I believe it!"

 
; They giggled happily.

  With ten minutes till assembly, Rachel decided to tackle Susie about the project that was uppermost in her mind. They needed recruits for S.W.A.C.K and, knowing how popular Susie was with the younger girls (the eight-whack strapping by Mrs Palmer had elevated her to almost cult status in the eyes of many fourth-formers, especially those of 4A who'd heard it through the door), Rachel used this moment of closeness to urge Susie to spread the word. Rachel ran through the attractions of membership:

  "Susie, I'm working on a membership card, and I'm saving up already for prizes we can get, and I'm going to go into the village and get more cold cream. Oh, and I've got a motto. But the main thing, what I think will be the most exciting thing, is that it's secret, it's just us, it's something to belong to that only we will know about. People always want to be part of something special, so, please, Susie, do your best?" Rachel had that slightly desperate look on her face again.

  "Rache, it's all right! I'll get them to join, don't worry. I'll start with Simpson, and Wilson. Others'll follow, just you watch." Rachel was so happy to see her friend beginning to develop some enthusiasm of her own. "So, what's the motto then?" asked Susan.

  "Well, I'll need to check it with Ward first, 'cause it's in Latin and I'm not sure I've got it totally right. It goes like this: Flectata in corpora sed non in spirita."

  Susie looked none the wiser. She'd always been hopeless at Latin and was so relieved she didn't have to do it any more now she was in the sixth form. "And in good old plain English that means ...?"

  Rachel beamed. "Bent over in body but not in spirit," she said.