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  1. Journeys Cora fidgeted in the corner, listening carefully for Silas' step on the staircase up to their room. It felt like she'd been standing here forever, certainly much longer than he usually left her here. She just wanted to get this spanking over and get on to their lovemaking. She didn't want this spanking and only grudgingly felt she deserved it. Tonight was a big date for them, one they'd looked forward to all week. They'd gone to an afternoon concert and then out for a nice dinner. She couldn't help that she was pouting. Silas was going to be going away on business for a month and she wasn't getting to go with him this time because she had several paintings she had to finish before a major art show opening. She'd tried to convince him that she could bring her art supplies along with them, but they both knew that wouldn't work. They'd tried it before and she'd gotten very little done. But she didn't want to be away from him for a month. She'd begged to be allowed to join him for a weekend and he had firmly said she could only if she'd met her goals before he left--and she hadn't. He hadn't even spanked her for that--figuring not getting the trip she wanted was consequences enough. But he did finally put his foot down during dinner and tell her she had to stop complaining about it. She should have known he was serious. When she'd started her complaints up again, he'd called for the bill, silently driven them home and sent her up to the corner to wait for him. Cora knew she was being childish on some level, but the deadlines were not easy to meet. She just wasn't as structured as Silas was. He'd been trying to help her get more organized, to meet deadlines, to do what she needed to be successful as an artist--and it had made a difference. He'd also insisted that she pull her fair share around the house and had enforced that with more than a few hard spankings. Now she squirmed again, wearing only a sheer nightshirt, with no panties as he would just remove those anyway. He didn't often believe in warm-ups. If she was being disciplined, the spanking started on her bare bottom and was delivered in a way that always got her attention. Surely he wouldn't use his belt today, she thought, not just for her bad attitude. Granted, she also hadn't done any of her chores this weekend, but he'd seemed inclined to ignore that since he was leaving in two days. Perhaps, she thought, she could try to distract him by wiggling a lot over his lap, pressing her hips against his, getting him hard so he'd want to end the spanking as fast as she did and get on to other things. There it was! He was climbing the stairs. She carefully placed her hands on her head and stood still, trying to look the very model of submissive behavior. He opened the door and said, "Cora, I want you to come downstairs." She turned her head over her shoulder and looked at him in surprise, "Downstairs, sir?" she asked, for she always added the 'sir' when they were in disciplinary mode. "You heard me, Cora. Now." he said firmly, holding the door open for her and pointing down the stairs. Her question about dressing first died on her lips, for his "now" was never to be argued with. Especially not on an evening when she was eager to get him past the point of punishing her. She turned and walked across the room, hesitating in front of him, wondering whether she should kiss him, but deciding against it when she saw his stern demeanor. There would be time enough for that soon. She walked down the steps, with him following close behind. When they got to the landing, he took her by the upper arm and led her into the living room. She started in surprise as they entered. Sitting on their couch was an older woman, her hair in a bun, wearing a knee-length gray skirt and a button-up white shirt. She pressed back against Silas, embarrassed at her half-dressed state. She turned to look at him and then started to stumble out a confused greeting when Silas spoke up. "Cora, this is Eloise. You will address her as Ms. Booth. Eloise, this is my girlfriend, whom you've heard me speak so much about." Eloise stood up, crossing the room and held her hand out to Cora, ignoring the difference in how they were dressed. Cora took her hand, shook it and said, "It-it's a pleasure, if a surprise, to meet you, um, Ms. Booth." "I have not yet told her what we have discussed," Silas said. "I thought it best she learn as it became necessary." Eloise nodded and resumed her seat on the couch. Silas escorted Cora over to an armchair and motioned for her to sit while he sat in the ladderback chair, set in the middle of the room, a chair Cora knew was there for only one reason as it usually resided in the dining room. If he had pulled it out here, he had intentions of spanking her--but would he do so with company present? "Cora, I have had a lot of concerns about leaving you while I'm on this business trip. These past few weeks you have shown an increasing need for discipline--more even than I've been able to provide. I seem to be punishing you for the same things repeatedly and you don't learn." "S-Silas, I...please, must we talk about this in front of our guest?" Cora asked, blushing furiously. "Yes, in fact, we must," he responded. "Because that is why she is here. You have agreed to submit to what discipline I think is necessary for you, correct?" "Yes, sir, I have," she answered. "Have you any second thoughts about that?" "No, sir, I know I've been struggling lately, but you have been very good for me and I know I need the discipline." "Yes, I agree that you do," he said, nodding. He then turned to Eloise "Cora doesn't like it when I spank her, but she has agreed to it willingly and without any coercion. As I've told you, I don't think now is the time, especially before she has a major professional objective to meet, that her discipline be suspended even though I must be away for the next month." "From what you have told me, I agree," Eloise responded crisply. "I have much experience with men and women like her and I know just how to take them in hand and keep them focused." Silas nodded and turned back to Cora who had a look of surprise on her face, "So, Cora, I have contracted with Ms. Booth. She is going to be staying in our guest room while I am gone. She and I have discussed a program of discipline for you--and I want you to know that I have approved everything she is going to be doing. I have let her know what is off limits, what you respond to, and what some of our disciplinary rituals have been. She has also made several good suggestions. I expect you to obey her the way you would me. Am I understood?" Cora swallowed hard. Long ago, Silas had talked to her about getting someone else to discipline her when he couldn't. She had agreed to it, but didn't think it would ever happen. She certainly wasn't expecting it today, but he was also making it clear that now was not the time for her to argue. She slowly nodded, "Yes, sir, I understand. She...er, Ms. Booth is going to spank me while you are gone?" "Yes, Cora, and likely more often than I do. She will be following up on the tasks you have agreed to do, your painting goals, and making sure you file all the paperwork you are so fond of ignoring. She also has a list of things that I have asked her to work on with you. Things I fear I have been unable to get through to you about or have been inconsistent with. I know I am sometimes slack about letting you sleep in. Eloise will not be. Nor will the dishes rot in the sink for days on end." "I...yes, sir, I understand," Cora swallowed and turned to Eloise, "Ms. Booth, I...I will try not to be difficult with you." "That is of little matter, Cora," she responded "Whether you are difficult or easy, we will work together on your goals and you will make progress or you will regret it." "Yes, ma'am," she responded. "Very good," she said. She then turned to Silas. "You told me she gave you attitude tonight." "Yes," he answered, "and specifically persisted in whining and complaining after I'd asked her to stop several times. I made it clear she would be punished for that." "We have talked about how you spank her, but I should like to see a demonstration before I begin," Eloise said. "An excellent idea," Silas said. "Cora, come here." She stood up, hesitatingly, realizing that not only was she not going to be consulted on whether she thought it was a good idea, but that she wasn't going to be able to wiggle her way out of a sound spanking, not if Silas were giving a "demonstration" of how he spanked her. She walked over to him and put her hand out to him. Silas took her by the wrist and looked sternly into her eyes, "Cora, you know better than to behave how you behaved tonight. It was supposed to be a special night for us, our last date before I leave. Eloise wasn't planning to come over until tomorrow, but when you behaved so abominably tonight, I called her and asked if she would come tonight because your spanking couldn't wait." "Please, sir, I didn't mean to spoil our evening, I'm just going to miss you so much," she said. "And you know I will miss you, Cora. I don't want to leave you, but this trip is necessary and you've known about it for a long time. It should be a chance for you to get a lot of work done while I'm gone. But missing me is not an excuse to behave poorly." "I-I understand, sir." "Yes, I know you understand how you should behave, even when you don't do it. Do you understand what the consequences are?" Cora swallowed and nodded, "Yes, sir, you spank my bare bottom until it is red and sore." "Then let's get started, my girl," he said, pulling her over his lap and arranging her so her bottom was lifted in the air. He slid her nightshirt up, and patted her bare bottom a few times. He looked over at Cora, "I firmly believe that most spankings should be delivered on the bare bottom. There are a few times I deliver a quick spanking over whatever Cora is wearing, but mostly, I spank her bare bottom." Cora glanced over at Eloise and saw her nod and take a notebook out of her purse. However, her attention was quickly brought back to her predicament as Silas delivered two hard spanks, one to each cheek. She gritted her teeth, not wanting to lose her dignity in front of the woman Silas had brought into her home. For the moment, it seemed like the wiser course, even though had she thought about it, she'd have realized her stubbornness would prolong her spanking. Silas proceeded with little regard for her efforts at dignity. He simply began spanking, one cheek after the next, back and forth, moderately hard, enough to get her attention. Maybe, she thought, he'd spare her after all. Surely he wouldn't want to humiliate her further in front of a stranger, would he? "Cora, you know you earned this," he said, pausing for a moment. "It is your behavior and your choices that get you spanked." "I didn't choose for you to spank me!" Cora objected. Silas sighed and delivered a flurry of hard blows across both cheeks, focusing on the lower part of her globes where he knew she would be most vulnerable. He continued spanking until he got a yelp out of her and then answered, "Yes, Cora, you did choose this. You chose it when you continued to show a bad attitude even after I'd warned you. You chose it when you acted in a childish manner--not at all the fine woman that you are and can be. You know this is the consequence for bad behavior." He shifted her in his lap, locking his legs around hers and then reaching for her arm and pinning her by the wrist to her back. Cora groaned inwardly. She knew what this meant. On one hand, she was grateful he didn't expect her not to reach back on her own, on the other, she hated knowing he was about to ramp up his spanking. All hope of suffering silently through the spanking abandoned her as he began to spank again, hard spanks that covered her entire bottom and soon had it glowing a rosy red. She was now crying out apologies and promising she would turn her attitude around. He ignored her and continued to spank until she went limp, the fight gone from her. He paused, rubbed and then gave two more hard spanks. "Stand up, Cora," he said, helping her to her feet. She sniffed, reaching back to rub her sore bottom. "I..I'm sorry, sir. I know I shouldn't have behaved that way. I promise I'll not complain about you going away again." Silas nodded and pointed to the corner, "Go stand there, Cora. Hands on your head." Cora's head drooped, but she obeyed, moving to the corner, putting her nose in it and placing her hands on her head. "Thank you for that demonstration," Eloise said, making a few more notes in her notebook. "She was in need of it," Silas said. "It seemed a good time for you to come over." "You also said it was her job to keep up the dishes, yes?" "Yes, we split household duties, but hers is to do the dishes right after each meal." "I noticed that when I arrived, the sink was full of dishes. Has she been punished for that?" "Well, no," Silas said. "As I mentioned, I've been slack about that. It was my last weekend at home and I was hoping I wouldn't have to spend it disciplining her." "I see." Eloise said in a tone that communicated her disagreement. "Might I make a suggestion?" "Of course," Silas said. "Since you were unable to go without disciplining her, I would recommend that issue not be allowed to go unpunished either. I would also like to ask that you allow me to punish her for it--in front of you so that she understands fully that I have your approval to discipline her." "You mean tonight?" "Yes. Immediately. Although, I think she should spend at least 10 minutes in the corner reflecting on the spanking you gave her and anticipating the one she is about to get." Silas paused and then nodded, "Very well. I really have let it go too often and it's been two days since she's done the dishes." In the corner, Cora's eyes went wide and she bit down on her lip to keep herself from objecting. Ten minutes, she thought. I have ten minutes to decide whether I'm going to let this happen or whether I'm going to tell Silas that no, this is outside my boundaries. They were still talking, but Cora could no longer focus on their words. Yes, her bottom stung from the spanking, but it was quickly fading. If they were now making love, she would barely notice it, it would just be pushing her to greater heights. Instead, she found herself feeling more vulnerable than ever. She'd had other boyfriends spank her before, but what would it be like to get spanked by this woman in front of Silas? A spanking that was purely disciplinary in nature? Would it hurt less because she was a woman and older? She blushed again as she listened to Eloise and Silas discuss her behavior and the kind of spankings they thought she should get. Silas was right, she realized. She really shouldn't go a month without discipline. Once he left, she was sure to slough off even though she had a major show opening coming up. She'd already planned to ignore most of her chores, even though it would be hellish to get back in the habit before he got home. Maybe this would be a good thing. Certainly she often shrugged off the seriousness of a spanking knowing she would get sex afterward. That would not be the case with this disciplinarian. If it got beyond what she could bear, she could always call him and tell him that she couldn't do it anymore. But...yes, she realized, she needed to try this. She'd barely come to that conclusion when she heard Eloise call her over. She turned and went to stand before the severe-looking woman, casting her eyes on the floor. "Look at me, Cora," she said. Cora raised her eyes, "Yes, Ms. Booth." "I want you to go down the hallway to the bathroom and fetch the maple hairbrush that Silas tells me he uses to spank you upon occasion. You are going to become much more familiar with it in the next few weeks. Now go." Cora quickly moved down the hallway without another word, even though she wanted to argue. She hated the hairbrush almost as much as she did getting Silas' belt. The belt hurt more, but a hairbrush spanking always lasted longer and the soreness lingered far more than the belt. She picked it up, pausing as she hefted it in her hand, lightly tapping it against her other hand as a reminder of what it felt like. She glanced up at the mirror, seeing her tear-stained face reflected in it. She shook her head, the time for all these reflections were over. Her decision was made, she was going to stick with it. She walked back out to the living room and stood before Ms. Booth. With a little more confidence in her voice she said, "I have been slacking in my duties and taking advantage of Silas' good nature. We agreed I needed discipline and I want to thank you now for giving it to me because I'm pretty sure in a few moments, I'm not going to feel like thanking you." Eloise gave a slight smile and nodded. Holding out her hand for the brush, she said, "Very well. This will be much more successful with your cooperation. Now, over my knee." Cora handed her the brush, noted the hand her disciplinarian took it in and then lay across her lap so that her dominant hand would have easy access to its target. She glanced over at Silas and the two of them made eye contact, holding it while Eloise tapped on the younger woman's bottom. "I want you to pay attention, Cora," she said. "Any time you leave the dishes in the sink for longer than 20 minutes after a meal is finished, you will be over my knee in the kitchen, your bottom bared, getting soundly spanked with either this hairbrush, my small paddle, or a wooden spoon--whatever is most convenient. You will then immediately do the dishes and when they are complete, you will go back over my knees for a hand spanking that will last however long it took you to complete the dishes in a satisfactory manner. Do you understand?" "Yes, ma'am," Cora said, her eyes going wide with concern, reinforced by the solemn nod that Silas gave. "I'll make sure I get the dishes done." Eloise pushed her night shirt up her back, making sure her bottom was once again bare and then brought the brush down on Cora's cheek with a sharp smack and said, "Yes, you will. I am sure it will not be a continued problem for long." Without further scolding, Eloise began to spank. Cora was soon gasping and squirming over her lap. While Silas was sometimes distracted by the warmth of her body or her wiggling at him, Eloise clearly was not. There was no rubbing, no pausing to caress her bottom. Instead, she brought the brush down steadily, spanking several times on one cheek and then moving to the other. "Please, ma'am," Cora finally cried out, "Please, I'm sorry, please stop." Eloise's only answer was to pick up the pace, spanking harder and faster, covering Cora's entire bottom. Cora pounded on the couch's cushions in front of her, her legs pumping frantically. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, no more, please!" Cora begged. Eloise stopped for a moment, shifting Cora in her lap and locking her legs with her own. She tapped the brush on Cora's now rosy bottom. "Yes, Cora, I'm sure you are sorry," she said. "But I am not done yet. You do not get to say when your spanking ends or how much you can take. I will decide that--your behavior will decide that. For one meal? Yes, your spanking might be done now. But you have two days worth of dishes piled up in the sink. You were purposely taking advantage. You're going to think twice about ever doing that again." With that, Eloise began to spank again, slower now, but harder, moving from cheek to cheek and up and down, paying close attention to her sensitive sit spots. Soon, Cora had tears running down her face as she promised to do better. Eloise paused for a moment, tapping the brush on Cora's thigh. "All right, Cora. We're almost done. Ten more and with each stroke you will promise to get the dishes done on time. If you do not promise in a timely or clear manner, I'll simply add smacks until you do." Eloise lifted the brush and brought it down hard on Cora's right cheek. Cora cried out in alarm, desperately trying to push her bottom down into Eloise's thigh and away from the brush. Just as she started to remember to speak up, the brush landed again and Cora realized she'd just earned an extra. "I promise I will do the dishes after each meal," she cried out, barely finishing before the hair brush cracked down again. Eloise continued to spank in a steady pace and Cora received several extra smacks before she quickly began to make her promises, one right after the other until she'd gotten it out ten times and Eloise finally stopped her barrage. Eloise unlocked her leg and helped Cora to her feet, the younger woman still shaking and distraught. There was silence in the room for a few minutes while Cora composed herself and then Silas spoke up. "I hope, my love, that it won't take too many of those before you learn...and that by the time I get home, it is no longer a problem," he said, his voice gentler than it was before. "Y-yes, sir, I promise I will do better." "Yes, so I have heard," Silas said. "On Monday, after I have left, Eloise will go over with you what you can expect while I am gone. There is something I am going to demand from you. After each of your spankings, you will sit on a hard chair in front of the desktop computer and send me an email detailing your punishment and why you received it...with the exception of any bedtime spankings you receive. Those can wait until the next morning. I will be keeping track of how many times you give Eloise cause to spank you and we will discuss it when I get home. Am I understood?" Cora's hands went back to rub her now very sore bottom, "I...yes, sir, I understand very clearly." Silas nodded, "Now, why don't you go do the dishes while Eloise and I finish a few things up. Just for this time, you won't get spanked after finishing them." Cora nodded, resisting the urge to run into Silas' arms for a comforting hug. Instead, she turned to Eloise and swallowing hard said, "I will see you Monday, ma'am. Th-thank you for your attention and I will work hard at keeping my promises." "Yes, Cora. You can expect me at 9 a.m. Please be dressed and ready for me." Cora nodded and went to the kitchen to attack the dirty dishes that had piled up. As she washed, she once again found tears trailing down her eyes. Yes, she needed the spankings and the discipline. They frightened her a little, but they were going to be good for her. She still, though, didn't want Silas to leave and didn't know how she would do without him for a month. She was just drying and putting away the last of the dishes when Silas came into the kitchen and wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, kissing her neck and pressing his body against hers. Turning, she brought her lips to his and her somewhat tentative kiss was greeted with a passionate one by him. She turned in his arms and returned his kiss, her lips parting and her tongue eagerly seeking his out. Finally they parted and he took her face in his hands, "Cora, my love, I know tonight was hard for you, but I hope you know I'm doing all this because I love and care for you and want what is best for you." "Oh, sir, I'm sorry I ruined our date night together. I'm going to try hard not to complain anymore--I'm just going to miss you so very much and I don't know what I'm going to do without you." Silas kissed her gently again and then took her by the hand and led her back to the living room. "You're braver than you give yourself credit for. You'll be busy and you'll do just fine without me. We'll keep in touch and when I get home, I'll take a long weekend off to be with you." "I would like that, Silas," she responded softly. "And for now, let's let the rest of our night be memorable to get us through the time apart," Silas said, taking her to the arm of the couch and bending her over it. He pulled her nightshirt off and began caressing her, first tenderly rubbing her still throbbing, red ass and then moving up her back and around to cup her breasts. He leaned over her and whispered in her ear, "I've wanted you so badly tonight. It was hard to commit to your discipline when all I wanted to do was bend you over like this and fuck you hard." "Oh, sir," Cora responded breathlessly, "I am yours, in every way." Silas stood up, stripping and letting his clothes fall to the floor as he eagerly spread her legs, one hand on each thigh. He squeezed and then leaned down to kiss each of her flaming ass cheeks. She moaned and he stood again, pressing his hard and eager cock against her warm, wet sex. He smiled at how eager she was for him, how ready her body was. He rubbed against her sex and then, with a strong, deep thrust, entered her. Cora cried out in delight, her senses afire as he pulled back and then thrust in again...then again, taking her hard and without hesitation. He rode her hard, hungrily, fucking her with abandon and then, slowly, catching his breath and easing into a steady, strong rhythm. She pressed back against him, flexing the walls of her sex around him, squeezing with a moan. He continued to stroke her with his hard shaft, their bodies in sync. He then reached down, placing a hand on her lower back, his thumb pressing between her cheeks, "You please me so much, my love. Your ass has taken so much punishment tonight, yet you still offer it to me." Cora shivered, every cell coming alive as his thumb pressed against me, While each stroke of his cock was sending her higher, it was his words that made her heart pound, "Oh, sir," she said. "My ass is yours--sometimes to punish, but always for your pleasure, always ready to feed your hunger." He circled her anus with his thumb, massaging, pressing as he kept a steady rhythm, stroking his hard cock deep inside her. He pressed more, his thumb forcing her open, the tip just inside as he circled and massaged, "Yes, my Cora, you are all mine, for whatever I need, and you feel so good, I need it all." Cora's breath came fast and short as he opened her. She tried to speak, but instead, let out a long, low moan. Silas joined her in a moan as he thrust his thumb inside her, deep into her ass at the same time thrusting hard, riding her with wild passion as he pushed her against the arm of the couch, fast and hard. Feeling wave after wave of sensation roll over her, Cora knew every spank she'd taken earlier had primed her for this moment. Her sex quivered around him, her ass squeezing around his thumb and she knew any moment she would be lost in that primal bliss that came from the merging of their bodies. Silas groaned, sensing the energy in her, thrusting deep and ravishing her with his passion. He kept his thumb tight in her twitching ass, wild pleasure filling his body. He leaned down and growled in her ear, "Oh my girl, let go, cum for me, I want you to." He'd barely finished speaking and she began to soar, launched into a flight of passion, of hunger and need. Trying to speak, her words were cut off in a cry as her body quaked hard, intensely. She squeezed her ass, her thighs, the walls of her sex, absorbing him, memorizing him with every quake and every shiver. Silas gave into her wild energy, responding to it with a passion of his own, surging deep inside and exploding into ecstasy, pumping, thrusting, moaning as each spasm filled her. Cora felt his heat shoot up through her and she again cried out in wordless pleasure, quaking. Together, they soared in ecstasy, lost in the wonderful sensations and release, waves of pleasure rolling over them. Silas eased his thumb out of her and held her hips, riding her with primal lust as his body was drained. Slowly, they relaxed and his tight grip eased into caresses, sliding over her body, moaning with pleasure. She closed her eyes as he pressed in, holding them together, savoring the moment and all of its sensations. He whispered to her, "Think of this, my girl, when you get lonely, think of this and how we shall do it again and again when I get home." He pulled out and then helped her to her feet, pulling her into a tight embrace. He then smiled and scooped her up in his arms, "Or, perhaps how we shall do it again in the morning. Come, my girl...we have a bed awaiting us." She wrapped her arms around him as he carried her up the stairs, her heart finally at rest. Their passion wasn't going to cool while he was gone and maybe, just maybe, she'd get a lot done in his absence. For the rest of the evening, she even forgot that she'd be getting plenty of motivation while he was gone to do just that.
  2. Hi all, obviously nobody is able to comment for everyone, but I wondered if someone is able to speculate on this subject. Is it generally more common for wives to spank their husbands or for husbands to spank their wives? Round my area, we subscribe to the idea that boys shouldn't hit girls and husbands should be willing to love their wives sacrificially (which includes taking pain to restore harmony), which means spankings tend to be F/M, but that is just us, I don't want to judge others according to our local custom and I am curious about what tends to happen with others.
  3. Despite the 27 years that separated them, the two women who stood on the immaculate burgundy carpet, flanked by parquet flooring that had enjoyed the benefit of years of meticulous attention, in the warmly and subtly-lit wood-panelled corridor at Great Kingsford College for Girls, could well have passed for sisters. The young mother's looks belied the 45 years during which she had brightened the lives of those around her, whilst her 18-year old daughter, only 6 months away from her nineteenth birthday, could easily have passed for a young woman in her mid-twenties, having inherited not only her Mother's elegance and fresh-faced good looks, but also a hint of her Father's eye-catching maturity. In many ways, however, the two women were very different in terms of their individual styles, the elder of the two still favouring nuance over bold statement in terms of her attire, whilst the younger, even in the immaculate uniform which she was wearing, officially, for the last day, managed to create an appearance of discreetly-tailored defiance, the knot in her tie being just slightly out of line and the top button on her shirt being left undone, albeit invisibly to all but the most inquisitive onlookers. Their conduct also brought them close together in terms of age, since the very low murmur of their voices in the hushed environs of the corridor was characterised by warmth, humour, excitement and, to a degree, sadness, for this was Sophia Louise's last day at school, before leaving for her gap year and before going up to Aberdeen University to read Medicine. However, the day did not simply represent a critical waymark on Sophia Louise's passage through life, but also in the lives of her mother, Eleanor, and of the school. This was, in fact, also the last day in office for the Headmaster, Mr. Alistair Mackinnon, and the caretaker, Mr. Brian Harding, both of whom had been conspicuous at the school, not only because they constituted half of the permanent male members of staff, but also on account of the respective manners in which they had served this impressive educational establishment. In educational circles, the profile of the Great Kingsford College for Girls had risen steadily, from a high starting point, over the 28 years since the arrival of Mr. Mackinnon, at the age of thirty-seven. The career of this softly-spoken native of the Isle of Skye had included a three-year appointment at a college in Seville and a two-year post at a Lyons Lycée, before taking up his appointment as Head of the Foreign Languages Department, under the eagle eye of Miss Helena Frobisher. The formidable former Headmistress had been a keen and strict disciplinarian who had produced results, both academically and socially. She had been almost universally adored and revered by pupils, governors and parents alike and there were rumours that she was blessed with a wicked sense of humour. She had also been a widely-acknowledged judge of character and this had led to the appointment of Messrs. Mackinnon and Harding to their respective posts, for she had seen qualities in these two gentlemen that she admired. Although she had been a staunch defender of a campaign to advance the status and quality of life of young women through good education and training, with nurture of individuality, Miss Frobisher had also recognised how unhealthy and unbalanced it could be to expect up to 280 girls to go about their school lives in surroundings that did not in some way reflect the gender mix in Society and which did not offer good male role models outside the immediate families of her pupils. There was also a handful of former alumnae who could testify to her devastating accuracy with the cane, an implement that had been used on extremely rare occasions and the effect of which had been to instil a sense of genuine respect amongst pupils at the school, both for discipline and for academic standards. In point of fact, the cane had never, at any time, been used as a punishment for failure to achieve academically, since Miss Frobisher had felt that this was a barbaric misuse of an effective form of disciplinary control. Such restraint had not, however, extended to the use of The Dragon, as it had been labelled in school lore, in cases where girls had been foolish enough to lapse into unjustifiable violence, abuse or flagrant breaches of standards of public behaviour. She had always been meticulous in her investigation of misdeeds warranting corporal punishment. However, once she had reached her conclusion, execution of sentence had always been a swift, painful and memorable experience that had left its imprint in several ways upon the girls who had left her Study in tears, to inspect the outcome of their encounter with her. The appointment, two years later, of Mr. Mackinnon to the post of Headmaster, following Miss Frobisher's retirement, had sent ripples through the educational establishment and had raised concerns amongst certain parents, yet such was the trust in Miss Frobisher's judgment that no one was ready to deny him the chance to prove that the decision had been wise. He had not failed. In fact, he had excelled and both academic and disciplinary standards had not only been maintained, but improved. Interestingly, this had been achieved, ultimately, without the threat of corporal punishment, which he had abolished three years into his appointment, after a long discussion with Mrs. Helen Marlow, the young Physical Education teacher whom he had appointed to the post of Deputy Headmistress. He had not, in fact, used or ordered corporal punishment to deal with any pupil. His look alone seemed sufficiently effective to convey the legendary message of his predecessor and recourse to the penultimate sanction had never been needed. The departure of Mr. Harding was also of significance to the school, since he had overseen the running of the school estate in a manner that had encouraged pupils to take an interest in such often-overlooked matters. With his impeccable manners and great depth of knowledge of both horticulture and wildlife, he had introduced many a young mind to areas of interest that might otherwise have escaped them, earning high regard from teachers, pupils and parents alike. Eleanor had particular reason to remember Mr. Harding since, when he had arrived as a fairly young and not-long-married young man, he had been at the centre of a controversy that had resulted in the one case of what ultimately transpired to be a miscarriage of justice during Miss Frobisher's headship. However, the story was not as simple as it might at first have seemed. In 1975, just a year after his appointment, Mr. Harding had been suspended from his post pending investigation of a most embarrassing incident. His rugged and youthful weather-beaten looks had earned several admiring gazes from girls at the school, particularly those on the point of departure for university, whom he had unwittingly prompted to ponder, in greater depth than was possibly healthy for them, the freedoms that lay ahead of them. Flirtatious remarks had been addressed to him, all of which he had brushed off, somewhat bashfully, with a smile and a rapid return either to a safe neutral subject or to his work. There was, however, one girl at the Great Kingsford College for Girls who had not played by the rules and who had, in fact, earned the loathing of many of her peers due to the high-handed and cavalier attitude she had adopted towards 'that gardener'. Julia Beaulieu lacked nothing in the self-confidence department and, whilst this enhanced her attractiveness to younger, less confident pupils, it had earned a healthy measure of disdain from older peers, who had come to like Mr. Harding and who appreciated his genuine and totally innocent desire to encourage them to discover the wonders of Nature that were there in their own gardens. Julia also had an unproven record as a deceitful manipulator. Circumstantial and anecdotal evidence was there in abundance, but Miss Frobisher was not the sort of woman to act on such unsubstantiated material and she had, until the final dénouement of this unfortunate episode, confined herself to reminding the arrogant girl that pupils at her school were strictly forbidden to abuse any member of her staff. Julia also engaged in a number of unapproved extra-curricular activities, including supposedly secret assignments with her boyfriend, whom she would meet amidst the cluster of outbuildings from which Mr. Harding ran his side of school life so efficiently. These, however, were a well-guarded secret and only two pupils had spotted her one lunchtime when, on the pretext of feeling slightly unwell, she had asked to be excused from the communal meal so that she could go and rest for a short while. The two pupils in question had been Patricia O'Connor, a vivacious and highly popular girl from Co. Wicklow in Ireland, and Eleanor, whom she had befriended at a very early stage during their shared school years. They had become inseparable contrasts in just about every way and they were extremely well-liked by the other girls, unlike the distant and, as it turned out, deeply unhappy Julia Beaulieu. The discovery of a pair of green knickers, matching an item missing from Julia's inventory of clothing, in the inside pocket of Mr. Harding's ex-RAF greatcoat, had shocked Polly, his wife, who had felt it her duty to bring this matter first to his attention and then to that of Miss Frobisher. The latter's reaction had, initially, been one of total bewilderment, but, anxious to satisfy the demands both of justice and of the need to maintain a good reputation, she had decided to investigate the matter herself, without recourse to outside agencies. As it turned out, this proved to have been one of the wisest moves in her long career and it spared an honest and decent family the shame of wrongful prosecution and public humiliation. Miss Frobisher resembled an 'old school' nursing sister, a professional whose ability to accumulate and sift through information from the most unlikely and, in the view of the majority of onlookers, impossible sources was legendary. These skills she applied with the utmost finesse in her investigation, during which, as a precaution, she had suspended Mr. Harding on full pay. Such was her confidence in his innocence and such were her powers of persuasion that she was able to convince Polly very quickly that the presence of young female underwear in her husband's greatcoat had been the result of schoolgirl malice, not of male perversion. It had taken the best part of three weeks for Miss Frobisher to complete her enquiries, which had culminated in the presence of a senior girl in her Study one Wednesday morning, two days before the end of term and her departure for summer holidays, before embarking upon her final year at school. She had sat at the desk, recited the facts as she had found them and then waited for Julia to explain how her underwear had found its way into the caretaker's great coat. The denials were vehement, but the weight of evidence was beginning to build against her. The spare key to the caretaker's office had been found in Julia's locker, which she could not explain and which, she claimed, had been a plant. Then there was the piece of dark green wool found on a splinter of wood close to where Mr. Harding's coat had been hanging. This matched the fabric of Julia's cardigan, a garment that featured a small damaged area close to a pocket, an area that was almost invisible and that was at exactly the height where the fragment had been found. Then there was the single sheet of paper found in Julia's locker, bearing the names of Mr. Harding and one of his junior assistants, along with imprints from what had been the page above it, revealing prose that would not find its way onto publications on the lower shelves in magazine racks. In her usual manner, Miss Frobisher had let Julia weigh up the evidence for herself. However, Julia denied any knowledge of the offence and was still protesting her innocence as she was ordered to stand in the centre of the room and bend down, holding her ankles. Knowing the consequences of the humiliation that would have resulted from failure to comply with this order, Julia had suppressed her protest at that point and had walked to the centre of the room where, as many of her peers would have felt to have been long overdue, she had heard the door lock mechanism close, the unmistakable sound of the cupboard door opening and footsteps approaching her from behind, preceding the lifting of her skirt, which had been folded over her back. She had tussled with anger and fear as the cane brushed very lightly on the seat of her knickers and then tapped out six lines with the lightest of touches. Julia had heard the legends relating to The Dragon and to the way in which it always forecast where it was planning to land. It came, therefore, as no surprise when each of the six gasp-generating impacts landed exactly at the intended spot and, with tears running freely down her cheeks, Julia had ultimately and painfully left the Study in silence and total defiance, refusing either to acknowledge her wrongdoing or to apologise. It was at this juncture that a worrying shadow of doubt had crossed Miss Frobisher's mind, as she returned The Dragon to its lair for what she had intended to be the last time in its working life. She remained intellectually convinced that justice had been done and she added her red ink entry to the slim punishment register, in which no girl's name had appeared twice, before closing the book and returning it to its locked drawer. There had been little sympathy for Julia amongst the pupils, some of whom approved openly of the punishment that had been meted out, considering that it was the least that the unpleasant girl had deserved for her treatment, not only of Mr. Harding but also of other girls at the school. Patricia and Eleanor were discreetly silent on the subject, uncharacteristically so in the case of Patricia, and it was this that caught the observant eye of Miss Frobisher, who was feeling increasingly uneasy about the entire matter, with the growing conviction that Julia Beaulieu had been 'fitted up' for the offence. Despite the fact that the Headmistress knew full well that Julia had certainly earned more than that caning by her other misdeeds, this did not sit comfortably with a woman of integrity, wedded inseparably to the notion of fair play, and she resolved to talk to Julia again after the summer holidays, once the girl had returned from a planned six-week stay in Italy with her boyfriend's family. Miss Frobisher also resolved to have all three girls, Julia, Patricia and Eleanor, in the Study and to rely on her highly individual inquisitorial technique to elicit the truth from these three young women at the start of their final year at school. The news that a passenger train in Ireland had been derailed just south of Greystones, causing multiple fatalities, brought a sense of deep shock to all the pupils at the school, but to none more than it had to Eleanor and Miss Frobisher and it was, therefore, in an atmosphere very different from that which she had intended that the Headmistress had called Eleanor and Julia to her Study to announce that she, like all the pupils, had been shocked and saddened by the untimely and tragic loss of Patricia. In the circumstances, she said, vital evidence that could possibly have shed light on the unfortunate incident involving the now-reinstated Mr. Harding was unavailable, unless, of course, either of the two girls had further light to shed on it. Both remained totally silent and Eleanor, skilled in mastering her feelings, displayed not a hint of the turmoil that had taken hold inside her. Thus it was that both girls left the Study and, ten months later, left the school for their respective university places. After a lengthy round of farewells, Mr. Mackinnon finally made his way, somewhat wearily, along the corridor to his Study, where he found Eleanor and Sophia Louise waiting, as requested, as girls would once have done, trembling, to see Miss Frobisher. He smiled warmly and ushered them inside. Once the door had been closed behind them, he showed them to the leather settee and invited them to sit down in this masculine oasis in an area dominated almost entirely by things feminine. Eleanor shivered almost imperceptibly as she adjusted her olive green silk dress and Sophia Louise felt a strange sense of unease in her Mother as she took her place alongside her. Both women allowed their gaze to wander around the room, past the door to the annex that was slightly ajar, quickly past The Dragon's lair and along the bookshelves towards the wide lattice window. Sophia Louise was reminded of her Father's magnificent Study at Pendene Manor, as was Eleanor, but not so much on account of the furnishings as for other reasons. Sophia Louise noticed how her Mother had shivered slightly as her gaze had fallen upon The Dragon's lair and, whilst Mr. Mackinnon was tidying up, having asked the ladies to wait for just a couple of moments, she whispered into Eleanor's ear, asking if everything was alright. Eleanor flushed slightly and, whilst Mr. Mackinnon's back was turned to them, whispered in reply about the legendary creature had once resided in the lair. It is a great mistake to underestimate the hearing of an experienced teacher, particularly a Headmaster groomed by no lesser a person than Miss Frobisher. Mr. Mackinnon turned round and looked at Eleanor and Sophia Louise. He smiled in a manner that was so inscrutable as almost to be sinister. Eleanor shivered again and Sophia Louise found her curiosity increasing. "So, Mrs. Penbury, you remember the legend of The Dragon, do you?" One could have been forgiven for believing that Eleanor was about to go down with a cold, such was the frequency with which she was beginning to shiver. She returned a wan smile and giggled in slight embarrassment. "But I understand that you were never acquainted with it, Mrs. Penbury", the Headmaster added. Eleanor blushed slightly and shook her head, unusually lost for words. However, even allowing for the dread that the very mention of the cane had induced amongst potential beneficiaries of its corrective power, this was not in character and Mr. Mackinnon knew this full well, having come to know Eleanor better than she realised during the shared time in which they had followed their respective paths at the school. He recalled the Valentine card that had been slid under the door to his office at the school, also the strange confession letter that had been sent to Miss Frobisher on the day of her retirement, both of which had been written in a very distinctive italic hand, with a pen of good quality fitted with an unusual nib. Mr. Mackinnon sat back in his leather armchair, his gown giving him the appearance of an American judge as he looked kindly, but quizzically towards his two guests. Suddenly, as if taken by surprise, he stood up and walked towards the lair with a purposeful stride. Eleanor was in a state of almost visible shiver by the time the door to the cupboard had been unlocked and it was only when a beautifully bound leather volume was withdrawn from it that she began to relax. She was, nonetheless, distracted, for she failed to notice that the door had not been locked again, an omission the significance of which ought not to have been overlooked. Mr. Mackinnon walked to the desk and placed the volume on the polished surface. He opened it to the flysheet and then looked over to Eleanor. "I'm sure you must realise that it's Miss Frobisher's 95th birthday in a couple of weeks' time and we decided that we wanted to present her with something very special to remind her of her time here. Since you were held by her to be an almost perfect role model, a girl for whom she had the greatest respect and admiration in the way in which you conducted yourself as a pupil, I was wondering if you would like to add your signature to the gift card please." Eleanor smiled nervously and nodded enthusiastically. She rose and walked over to the desk, where she picked up the volume of Dr. Johnson's travels in the Hebrides and examined it cursorily, but appreciatively, before putting it down again. Mr. Mackinnon offered a ballpoint pen for the signature, but Eleanor protested that such a gift had to be signed with something more elegant. She winked with a familiarity begotten of nervousness, rather than bad manners, and Sophia Louise looked on in bemusement as her Mother returned to look in her bag, where she found her treasured Parker fountain pen, given to her by her grandfather in 1971 at the start of her penultimate year at the College. Carefully, she removed the cap and, in her inimitably precise style, wrote her name in full … Eleanor Louise Waddingham … She let out a faint gasp as she realised what she had written and quickly penned in … Penbury … in brackets after the name. Eleanor's writing had always been pleasing on the eye, reflecting great care and attention, but her italic-style writing was highly distinctive and was reserved for the most special occasions. She had only used it very rarely in her lifetime, but even as she was writing her name, she saw a card and a hand-written note slide across the desk alongside the book. Without looking up, she blushed with an intensity that took Sophia Louise completely by surprise. Mr. Mackinnon, who was both something of an amateur expert in graphology and a very discerning judge of people, was not so surprised. His gaze joined that of Eleanor and of Sophia Louise, who had now joined them at the desk, as the three documents were compared. There was no mistaking that all were written in the same hand. Mr. Mackinnon smiled benignly at Eleanor and invited her to sit down again, but she felt almost unable to move as she stood, like a penitent schoolgirl, in front of the desk and looked, half open-mouthed, at the Headmaster. Mr. Mackinnon sat back in his leather armchair and gazed intently at Eleanor. "Would you prefer that Sophia Louise found other things to do while we clear the air here, Eleanor?" It had always been known at school that girls who were about to be subject to corporal punishment were addressed by their forenames, not, as customarily, by their surnames. Despite the fact that she had never been disciplined at school, the detailed reports she had heard from caned girls had left her totally familiar with the ritual and it was for this reason that, for the third time in her life, she realised that the cane was hovering metaphorically over her in a disciplinary setting. Sophia Louise grinned wickedly, wiggled her hips and said to her Mother, in a stage whisper…….. "Oooh Mum, have you been a naughty girl? Never mind, you're no stranger to the cane are you?" Sophia Louise and Eleanor blushed in harmony as the significance of what had been said sank in to Mr. Mackinnon, whose smile was only visible from the inside. As on the two previous such occasions, a sense of a longing to 'do the right thing' took over Eleanor's thoughts at that moment, bringing with it the renowned dignity and self-control that were the hallmarks of her character. She fixed Mr. Mackinnon in her gaze and adopted a posture that was both submissive and dignified. "May I speak, please, Sir?" A comforting, soft Skye accent approved her request and Eleanor embarked upon a full statement as to how, given the fact that Julia Beaulieu appeared, through lies, deceit and bullying, totally to have evaded justice and retribution for her wrongdoing, Patricia O'Connor and she had decided that something had to be done. She then went on to describe how she and Patricia had heard Julia bragging about having made love to Mr. Harding, something they knew full well to be malicious nonsense. Nonetheless, they had then acted totally irrationally and without thought of the consequences of misinterpretation. They had taken Julia's underwear, removed the label, then snagged her cardigan on a nail and torn a small piece of wool from it at just the right place so that the assumption would be made that Julia had been in the caretaker's office. They had engaged Mr. Harding's attention and whilst Patricia had sought information that kept the caretaker totally preoccupied, Eleanor had slipped the underwear into a greatcoat pocket that he rarely used and had then snagged the piece of green wool onto a splinter in a wooden upright. Eleanor had then exploited the absence of Patricia and the caretaker to remove a spare key and slip it into her pocket. After a coded silent signal to Patricia, the two girls had then left the caretaker and made their way back to Julia's locker, where they had planted the false evidence, having wiped the key with great care before doing so. It was now Sophia Louise's turn to stand, open-mouthed, as the slight tarnish appeared on her Mother's character. She giggled, partly out of nervousness and partly out of pure mischief. Eleanor was now speechless, but was totally in control of herself and, as when her husband had caned her nine years earlier for the first time, she awaited the next move passively and in silence, standing with her hands clasped behind her back. Mr. Mackinnon looked kindly but sternly at her. "I feel that we all benefit from having heard your true version of the facts, Eleanor. Thank you. Now, the matter would appear to be tied off once and for all but……." Mr. Mackinnon rose from his chair and walked towards the window. Eleanor's and Sophia Louise's gaze followed him as he took up a position overlooking the quadrangle, then turned to face them. "I know something of you, Eleanor, and that something tells me that, for the sake both of Patricia, whom you loved as a close friend, and for Julia, whom, despite what you saw as mitigating circumstances, you wronged, you are not comfortable with leaving the situation like this." Eleanor looked down at the floor for a moment, then lifted her gaze again and fixed Mr. Mackinnon attentively in it. "I was once in a similar situation with my husband, Mr. Mackinnon, and at that time, once I had acknowledged what needed to be done, I was happy to leave it to him. Now, you are in authority, so I will leave it to you, acting on behalf of Miss Frobisher, who……." Eleanor had been about to say "… obviously isn't able to see justice done …" when she heard a door creak behind her. She turned and saw a tall, elegantly-dressed elderly lady standing there. She put her hand to her mouth and gasped. "M-m-m-i-ssss F-f-f-robisher!!!!" Sophia Louise giggled uncontrollably and muttered something about how she would soon know what a sort of a pain in the arse The Dragon, still the stuff of legend at a school that had inexplicably acquired the nickname of Spankhurst College, could be and how fortunate it was that her Father wasn't there when none other than Mr. James Penbury followed Miss Frobisher into the room, adding a totally different dimension to the scene. Sophia Louise fell very quiet under her Father's stern, silent rebuke. Mr. Mackinnon took control of the scenario and looked Eleanor in the eye for a few moments, before turning his gaze to Sophia Louise and reminding her, firstly, that her parents had not paid good fees for her education only to have her acting so tactlessly and, in the circumstances, rudely. He then turned back to Eleanor and looked once again at her in the kind but authoritative manner that had an effect similar to, but by no means as intense as, that look which her beloved James was wont to give her. "Eleanor, I am not going to impose a punishment on you, since you are a married adult woman and the episode is long since ended. However, if you feel that this is necessary, then it will be done." Eleanor held her breath for a few moments as she struggled to summon up courage for what she knew she would have to endure. After a seemingly endless silence, she addressed herself calmly to Mr. Mackinnon: "I wish to close this episode of injustice in the only appropriate manner, by accepting the same punishment as was wrongly meted out to Julia Beaulieu." "Very well", replied Mr. Mackinnon, "it shall be so. However, I see an order of priority here that is different from that which existed at the time of the original punishment. You are now a married lady and your husband has the right of first choice as to who should punish you". James had said very little and had listened with his undivided attention to the discussion that had taken place. He cupped his chin in his hand for a few moments and then turned to Miss Frobisher. "I believe", he started, "that Miss Frobisher is the wronged party here, as much as Julia Beaulieu, since her good name and her reputation, not to mention her self-confidence, could have suffered as a result of Eleanor Waddingham's well-intentioned, but wrongful actions. Hers has to be the choice." James stood back and Miss Frobisher looked at the people in the Study, before announcing in soft, confident voice, in crystal-clear tones: "This is not a case of one individual against another, but of a girl who, foolishly and in a moment of silly rashness, betrayed very serious and honourable principles that are, I know, very precious to her and to her family. I believe that discipline is administered by the school and, since Mr. Mackinnon is the Headmaster who acts in the name of the Emmeline Pankhurst Sixth Form College for Girls, he is now the person who should administer the punishment. Julia Beaulieu received six strokes". James nodded discreetly to give his assent and this Mr. Mackinnon acknowledged with a brief reciprocated nod. The Headmaster then went on to ask all present, other than Eleanor and Miss Frobisher, to move to the adjoining room and close the door. This they did, promptly, and Eleanor began to tremble slightly as Miss Frobisher moved behind the desk, to where the Headmaster had been standing. Mr. Mackinnon walked back to the window, lowered the blind, then walked to the corridor exit door, which he locked. He then instructed Eleanor in a quiet, authoritative voice, to bend over the desk. As the Headmaster walked towards The Dragon's lair, Eleanor walked up to the desk, smiling weakly at Miss Frobisher. The latter had always been of the view that, once something had been decided, it should be dealt with promptly and did not, therefore, waste time on words, but held out her well-manicured hands, smiled kindly at Eleanor and briefly took hold of the younger woman's hands before releasing them to take what she knew would be a very necessary hold on the edge of the desk. Eleanor closed her eyes as she heard the cupboard door open and she was acutely conscious of the quiet footfalls of the Headmaster as he approached. She heard the unmistakable sound of the cane being placed on the desk alongside her and she shuddered instinctively as she recalled how she had looked away from the cane when James had laid it on the bed alongside her, all those years ago. Mr. Mackinnon walked behind Eleanor and looked across at Miss Frobisher, who nodded slightly before the back of Eleanor's dress was raised and the beautifully-shaped bottom, enclosed in cream-coloured slightly-elasticated full briefs, was exposed to his view. He masked his thoughts and feelings extremely well, although Miss Frobisher was able to read his mind perfectly. So perfectly in fact, that she was not in the least concerned about any hint of impropriety, for this was a man whom she knew well and whom she understood as few others did. Mr. Mackinnon walked back to the desk and picked up the cane quietly. Eleanor was aware of movement in her vicinity, but it was the soft touch of the rattan across the mid-line of the seat of her knickers that gave her the final warning of the start of the punishment she had awaited for 27 years. As on the previous such occasion, she heard the whistle of the cane, as it sliced through the air, in exquisite detail before her body tensed rigidly as the cane found its mark along the equator of her bottom. Her legs buckled slightly and she clenched and tensed her buttocks alternately in an attempt to dissipate the sharp pain. When, thirty years previously, Mr. Mackinnon had last used the cane, he had made a point of marking out the boundaries of the caned area with the first two strokes. Thus it was that the second stroke landed at the very base of the buttocks, at the edge of the knicker fabric. Eleanor let out a muted yelp as it landed and held firmly to the desk. Miss Frobisher resisted strong compassionate urges for the time being, whilst the Headmaster watched the profile of Eleanor's bottom as raised weals formed. He then proceeded to administer four final strokes with The Dragon, strokes that had a profound effect upon Eleanor as she squirmed, trying to ensure that the desire to 'see the job done properly' overruled the longing to stand up and run. Her efforts were successful, but only just! She felt her dress being lowered gently over her bottom, then vaguely heard the sound of The Dragon being returned to its final resting place, never to be used again. The sound of the lock closing floated in the pink haze of pain and relief that was filling her body and mind. Her sense of submission to what she knew to be right had the effect almost of elation and her body, as on that previous occasion, was beginning to give her tell-tale signs of her need of her husband's careful and loving attention. Carefully, she moved her hands back to her side of the desk and eased herself into a standing position, wincing as the fabric of her knickers rubbed momentarily over her weals. She had heard the door to the Annex open, but her thoughts were far away, her eyes looking mistily towards the window. She felt a tissue being pressed gently into her hand, then the comforting embrace of Miss Frobisher, who kissed her cheek softly and whispered "I'm proud of you, Eleanor. I always knew you would do the right thing." The next event in this bizarre sequence probably shook Eleanor almost as much as the caning had done, for there, alongside her husband, was not only Sophia Louise, but a tall, radiantly warm-looking woman with rich auburn hair that was just beginning to exhibit hints of grey. Eleanor's mind worked frantically to work out who she was before this woman walked over to her, embraced her with warmth and sincerity, then whispered quietly into her ear: "We both deserved it, Elle." Eleanor came quickly to her senses and looked in utter astonishment. "Julia?" The tears flowed freely as the two women embraced one another, the events of an earlier generation now finally resolved properly. Their embrace was close and any hint of former antipathy had long since vanished. When, eventually, they released one another, they looked deeply into one another's eyes, then exchanged kisses on the cheek that both came to cherish as symbols of wrongs put right. The final surprise in a day that had proved to be something of a watershed for Eleanor came when a middle-aged couple joined the other six people in the Study. Eleanor knew instantly that these were probably the people who had suffered the most harm of all and went immediately across to Polly and embraced her with both penitence and affection. She felt almost too uncomfortable to look Mr. Harding in the eye, but he smiled at her and took her hand gently, before giving a handshake that wrote the final line under the entire affair. The small group of people moved from the Study along the corridor into the quadrangle, where a warm late summer afternoon warmth embraced them. Across the quadrangle, the attention of a black and white cat perched precariously on a balustrade was temporarily distracted by the new arrivals, allowing sufficient time for a pair of plump collared doves to flap their way heavily and noisily into the sky. The cat, for which hunting such prey was a totally unnecessary luxury in dietary terms, looked dismissively at a feather floating slowly to the ground, then disappeared silently into the intricate architectural complexity of the College buildings.
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  5. Sir George Radcliffe September 1907 I have asked Jenks and Mrs Fuller to choose two of the housemaids for promotion. When Charlotte and Lucy arrive they will each require a lady’s maid. We haven’t had a lady’s maid at Winterbrook since my dear wife passed away twenty years ago. Any female guests bring their own servants; for such an intimate role it would never do to be attended by a stranger. I told them to find me two girls who were reliable, neat and who could be trusted to be discrete. A lady’s maid overhears and sees many things in the course of her duties and it is important that she knows not to gossip in the servants’ hall. They have found me two girls who have been with us a couple of years – Alice and Maria. I can’t say I have had much to do with either of them before, housemaids do not usually come to my attention unless they are especially ill-disciplined or especially pretty… However, I interviewed the two chosen girls and initially found them much to my liking. Maria is twenty-three and has been in service since she was eighteen. She is dark haired girl with a somewhat haughty expression for a maid but she answered my questions politely enough and seemed genuinely pleased to be offered the chance for promotion. Alice was similarly delighted with the opportunity to take on a more responsible role and to earn a few extra shillings in her wage packet. She is a year younger than Maria and in contrast to her counterpart has a shyer disposition and rather attractive blonde hair. I recall noticing how pretty she was when we first took her on but somehow she has escaped my attention since then. But that is how it should be, housemaids should go about their business unnoticed and un-remarked. I told them that Mrs Fuller would explain their regular duties to them but that until Miss Charlotte and Miss Lucy arrive their job would be to prepare their mistresses’ rooms. I have chosen two pleasant, adjoining rooms in the East wing of the house. Each has a separate bathroom and dressing room and both rooms afford decent views over the gardens. Neither room has seen much use over the last few years so they required a thorough spring clean and good tidy up. Normally I would leave the supervision of such a task to Mrs Fuller but seeing as Charlotte and Lucy will be members of the family it seemed right that I should personally inspect the rooms when the two new ladies maids had had a couple of days to complete the task. Consequently, this afternoon I accompanied the housekeeper and made my inspection. We went first to the blue room, which is to be Miss Charlotte’s room. It has been decided that Maria is to be Miss Charlotte’s maid so she was in attendance as I carefully examined the work that had been done. There was little with which I could find fault. The room was spotlessly clean, the linen had been properly aired and folded and all in all a very good job had been done. “Would you thank Maria Mrs Fuller?” I said to the housekeeper, “She has done an excellent job. The room is just how I hoped it would be.” I saw Mrs Fuller glance at the girl standing quietly in the corner and saw her blush with pleasure. We proceeded to the yellow room, which is to be Miss Lucy’s. Alice was waiting for us, standing demurely with her hands clasped in front of her, her eyes downcast. The lower servants know not to make eye contact and only to speak when spoken to, but it soon became obvious that the downcast expression was more than mere deference. Alice had not done a good job and she knew it. There was dust along the top of the wardrobe, the linen had a slightly damp smell about it and the yellow room did not sparkle in the way that the blue room had. I was most displeased. “Mrs Fuller, this is not good enough,” I said firmly. “This room is not ready for Miss Lucy. You will see to it that Alice is disciplined and that she is made to do the work properly, even if that means she does it on her afternoon off.” I was taken by complete surprise by what happened next. I am sure that Alice did not mean to say it out loud, but say it out loud she surely did. “Oh hell!” She said it under her breath, but in the silent room she may as well have shouted it! I have not been so shocked by a maid in a very long time. ‘Hell’ might not be the strongest of expletives but I do not expect maids to offer any sort of outburst. I turned slowly, feeling the colour coming to my face. “What did you say girl?” I demanded, my voice low and full of menace. Alice had gone very white. Her hand went up to her mouth and she stood in front of me quivering like a terrified rabbit transfixed by the twin barrels of my shotgun. “N…n…nothing sir,” she stammered. “I heard what you said girl… and it was certainly not nothing. It was a blasphemy that I am shocked to hear used in this house.” I turned to the housekeeper. “Mrs Fuller, if Alice wishes to keep her position in this household you will have her prepared and waiting in my study at ten o’clock tonight. Otherwise she may pack her things and go… without a reference!” I did not wait for a reply. Mrs Fuller knew what to do, it had been a while but she had prepared girls often enough in the past. ---------------------------- I enjoyed a leisurely dinner followed by a glass or two of port and one of my favourite Havana cigars. It was strange to think that in a few days time my meals would no longer be taken alone. I enjoy the company when Freddy is at home or when we have guests but I have got used to my solitary mealtimes, exchanging the occasional word with Jenks as he directs the serving staff, but by and large content with my own thoughts. I do hope the girls will not be giggly at the dinner table for that is something I cannot abide. Nor can I abide maids whose work is not up to standard and who cannot keep their foul mouths closed. I checked my hunter - five past ten - Alice would have been in place for over half an hour so would just about be ready. I took a last sip of port and made my way to the study. Mrs Fuller had done what I asked; Alice had been prepared and was waiting for me. She was stood in the near corner facing the wall. She was dressed solely in corset and stockings and across her bare bottom she held my favourite cane. I saw her tremble as I closed the door and went over to sit at my desk, but she knew better than to move or to turn her head. I sat down and contemplated her for a moment. She made an attractive picture. Her waist was pinched in by the tight lacing, drawing the eyes to, and accentuating the curves of her full bottom. Her skin was alabaster white and, for now, unmarked. Her fair hair hung, in a long pony-tail, down to the middle of her back. I enjoyed her for a few moments more, knowing that the wait was surely an agonising one for her. “Come here girl,” I ordered. Alice turned. She blushed as she walked towards me, ashamed of her semi-nakedness, aware that my eyes were drawn to the brief triangle of darker hair at the juncture of her thighs. I wondered how many men had seen her like that before. I do not fool myself into believing that the servants lead chaste lives and very much doubted that a pretty girl like Alice had maintained her maidenhood, but you never know, perhaps I was the first to see her womanly attractions. I stood up. “The cane,” I commanded. She passed it to me, her hand trembling. I gave it a practice swish through the air and saw her shiver. “You may count yourself very fortunate that I did not instantly dismiss you girl,” I told her sternly. “However, such conduct will not go unpunished. A dozen strokes I think.” Alice could not help but give a little gasp of horror. She looked at me with wide and frightened eyes but was wise enough not to challenge the sentence or beg for mercy. I pointed to the chair that was positioned in front of the desk. “Stand behind the chair.” Alice did as she was told, standing behind the chair and waiting for the next order. “Bend over the back of the chair and grip the chair legs at the front.” Alice took a deep breath as though she was about to dive into a lake, then bent forward over the chair back. She reached forward to take hold of the chair legs coming up onto tiptoe as she did so, the back of the chair lifting her hips and pushing her bare bottom into the air. I tapped the inside of her ankles with the tip of the cane, forcing her to part her legs. Now she was exactly as I required; bottom ready to be caned, female secrets wantonly displayed, humiliated and vulnerable. I placed the cane across the middle of her bottom. Her breathing quickened and I saw her tense. I lifted the rod high and took careful aim. I love to cane a pretty girl, and administering the first stroke is my favourite part of the process. The sting that the cane imparts is very intense, a shock even to one who is expecting it and for a girl like Alice far worse than anything they could have feared and imagined. Alice gave a sharp cry as the cane bit home. She jerked against the back of the chair and her toes scrabbled at the carpet. Where the cane had landed was a crimson stripe, livid against her white skin. There is no value in caning a girl too quickly. Each stroke should be relished, the pain should be allowed to reach its peak and then subside into a throbbing line before the next stroke is even contemplated. The girl should have plenty of time to anticipate and fear each and every biting stroke. Caning Alice took a good quarter of an hour. She was crying openly after the third stroke but that was only to be expected, it certainly elicited nothing in the way of sympathy or leniency from me. When it was over Alice remained bent over the chair crying softly, her bare bottom now very well-striped. It was an image that would remain with me for the rest of the week. Once again I regretted that Anastasia was not staying at Winterbrook that evening, for my blood was certainly up. “Stand up and put your hands on your head girl,” I told my chastised maid. Alice got to her feet. I knew she desperately wanted to rub her smarting bottom but she dared not and slowly put her hands on top of her head. “I trust you have learned your lesson girl,” I told her. “I will be keeping an eye on you from now on and if you displease me again then rest assured I will not hesitate to repeat this evening’s punishment. Do you understand me?” “Y…y…yes sir.” Alice sniffed. “You will go and stand in the corner facing the wall until Mrs Fuller comes for you. You will then clean and tidy this study. If it is not done to the highest standard then you will be caned again tomorrow night.” Alice walked slowly to the corner, wincing with each step. I left her there, confident that in the morning my study would be cleaner and tidier than it has been in a very long time. A dozen strokes of the cane is a very effective motivator in my experience!
  6. Mr Jenks September 1907 Sir George came back in an awful temper from Kingsmead yesterday. I had made the suggestion that he consider the school for Miss Charlotte and Miss Lucinda, as an alternative to hiring a governess. It would certainly save on the trouble and expense of another member of the household and would also bring the benefit that the two young ladies would not be at Winterbrook for much of the year, Kingsmead being a boarding establishment. However, it clearly didn’t suit so now I am having to go about the business of advertising for a governess. I don’t expect it will be easy to find a suitable candidate, the prospect of trying to educate two young women, who probably consider themselves too old for school would be a daunting prospect for even the most able teacher. I remember the last governess we had at Winterbrook, back in the days when Master Freddy was still at home, before he went up to Harrow. Miss Littlefield was her name and I remember her very clearly indeed. ‘Harridan’ is the word best used to describe her. She was small and fierce and very strict. Poor Master Freddy had a terrible time with her. She used to wield a fearsome hairbrush and a very wicked little cane and they were used on a very frequent basis. Undoubtedly such treatment stood Master Freddy in good stead and hardened him up for what he would be facing when he went to school, but he certainly didn’t enjoy it at the time. Miss Littlefield was in her late fifties when she finished at Winterbrook and I understand that she has now retired, more’s the pity. She’s just the sort of character we need now. I have prepared the wording for an advertisement to be placed in the pages of ‘The Lady’. Governess Required Winterbrook Hall To educate two young ladies (aged seventeen and nineteen) Applicants should be of good character, sound learning and be willing and able to administer strict discipline. Applications in writing to: Mr A Jenks Winterbrook Hall St Albans Hertfordshire Hopefully Sir George will approve and we will be able to get on with the business, but I doubt we will have anyone in place before Miss Charlotte and Miss Lucy arrive next week, these things do take time. My other task this morning was to deal with Rose, one of our kitchen maids. By rights disciplining the maids should fall to Mrs Fuller, the housekeeper, but she felt that a sterner approach was needed since she has already had occasion to punish Rose twice in the last fortnight. Mrs Fuller can be a little reluctant to administer the level of discipline that is needed for the more recalcitrant cases. I have no such qualms. Rose is eighteen, and has only been with us a few months. Nevertheless by now she should know her job and be competent in the tasks that she is given. She looked very anxious as she stood in front of my desk, twisting her fingers together and biting her lip. “Well Rose,” I said sternly “This just isn’t good enough. How many items of the best china have you managed to break in the last three weeks?” She blushed. “Four Mr Jenks,” she admitted. “And this morning it was a large soup tureen?” She nodded her head, “Yes Mr Jenks. I am sorry, it just slipped out of my hands.” “No Rose, you simply were not taking enough care. Do you know how much such an item is worth?” She shook her head, dumbly. “Believe me it would take the best part of your months wages to come close to replacing it. And if we added the cost of it to the other things you have broken you would be repaying your debts for several months to come.” Rose looked down at her shoes. She knew the truth of what I was saying. “Sir George may well be a wealthy man but he cannot afford to have his valuable possessions destroyed due to your clumsiness. You need to be taught a lesson young lady.” Rose looked up at me, her big blue eyes already swimming with tears. “I’ll give you a choice. You can have your wages docked or you can be dealt with by me, right now.” I glanced up at the leather strap that was hanging on a hook beside my desk. Rose followed my glance and blushed even more deeply. “Well girl what’s it to be?” It wasn’t really much of a choice. Rose couldn’t afford to pay for the breakages and neither could she afford to risk losing her position. “I’ll take the strap Mr Jenks,” she said quietly, shuffling her feet and looking very uncomfortable. I stood up and unhooked the implement. It’s a nicely made thing that the saddle-maker over at Harpenden made for me. It’s got quite a heft to it and imparts a fearsome sting. “Lift your skirts and bend over,” I ordered. Rose trembled. She reached down to the hem of her dress and as she bent forward lifted her skirts and petticoats up over her hips. I moved around behind her. Placing the strap on the desk for a moment I adjusted Milly’s knickers, parting the white cotton drawers to reveal her bare cheeks. I doubt that any man had seen her lovely bottom before and from the way she drew in a sharp breath as her arse was exposed I could tell that she was finding the experience mortifyingly embarrassing. “Ten strokes,” I told her. “Hold onto your ankles and don’t stand up until I tell you.” She gave a little whimper of fear as I lined up the first stroke by placing the strap across the middle of her bottom. It was more than a whimper that she gave a moment later when I brought the strap cracking down. She gave a sharp cry of pain and I watched as her fingers clenched and unclenched around her ankles as she struggled to stay down. I gave her a few moments to compose herself before delivering the second stroke, adding a second crimson stripe to the one already marked across her cheeks. Rose gasped and her shoulders heaved. I saw the first tear fall onto the floor at her feet. It was the first time I had punished her and I was pleased by how well she took it. Tears were to be expected, indeed welcomed as a sign of contrition, but she made no attempt to resist punishment nor to stand up until I gave her permission to do so. When the punishment was over I took one last look at her chastised bottom before allowing her to stand. “Very well Rose, I trust you have learned your lesson?” “Yes…Mr…Jenks…” she sniffed through her tears, “I’ll… be… a lot more careful in future.” “I trust you will be for if this happens again you will be explaining yourself to Sir George himself.” Rose visibly trembled. If Sir George disciplined her then it would be the cane and a severe caning at that. All the female staff lived in fear of the punishments that he meted out and understandably so. I wondered if he would be as strict with his new wards; I would be most surprised if he wasn’t. I let Rose go and turned again to the governess advertisement. Now, was the wording quite what I wanted?
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