I lift her uniform, tug down her knickers, and slap her bare arse—this time, she must feel my ire at being late again.

“Is that the best you can do?” she taunts, looking back at me with doe-like eyes. I pick up the cane and raise my hand higher. She squeals as the cane swishes and strikes her flesh—red welts marking her pale skin.

“Harder. I deserve it.”

WHACK!

Then I slip my fingers between her wet folds.

“Deeper,” she moans.

“Wicked girl. See that you’re not late again.”

“Thank you, Matron,” she says with a staged grin.