“Admiring my canes, Ms Pearson?”

“Oh, Headmaster.” The young probationary teacher swung round, startled. “Well, they're not a common sight these days.” The object of attention was a mahogany wall-board that held three such articles in a horizontal display.

“No, indeed not. And if I dared to use one in this day and age, I'd be out on my ear. If not on a charge of assault.” He made a resigned gesture. “But take one down if you're curious. The middle would have been standard senior fare.”

It had a slightly sticky feel and she smacked the flexible length against her palm a few times. “Ooh, this is so springy, Headmaster. And it's no lightweight.”

“Prime Malay rattan. Nothing to touch the way it tends to wrap itself round the target. But it does take practice to achieve accuracy.”

She pictured herself bending over with the rod biting into her bottom and felt her scalp prickle. “It must hurt, sir. I mean really hurt.”

He chuckled. “As intended, Ms Pearson, as intended. Six strokes and the boy – or girl – would rarely be back for a repeat performance. And since we're a military school, it continued to be employed long after it was gone from the general system.”

“So you'll have used these yourself, Headmaster?”

“Only as a young man, I'm afraid. Though – and I'm not sure why – I do keep them regularly waxed and ready. But now, Ms Pearson, you must have come to see me about something else.”

She had been staring at the yellowish rod bent between her hands and came to with a start. Returning the cane hastily to its place, she picked up the sheaf of papers she'd brought. “I'm going to need some signatures, Headmaster.”

He took them and reached for his pen. “No problem. I'm hearing good reports of your work so far. And I gather you've moved into a flat in town, Ms Pearson?”

“Yes, thank you, sir. I'm sharing with a friend.”

He scribbled his name on the pages required and passed them back. “Well, I hope that means you'll be with us long term. The school could do with more young blood...”

oOo

“Wow, you were hot tonight, Jeanie.”

She turned to let Barbara snuggle in close. “So were you, girl.”

“Yeah, but you were leading the way. I was just caught up in the tide of passion...” She started to giggle and soon they were both convulsed.

“Shit, Barb, we're like a couple of schoolgirls who've just discovered sex.”

“Instead of their respectable teachers. But seriously, whatever it was got you going like that, I want some.”

Jean hesitated, then decided to confide in her lover. “Well, I had to get my HM to sign stuff today and he's got these canes mounted on the study wall.”

“Canes? Thought they disappeared in the stone age.”

“Bit more recently than that in Military Schools, apparently. Unlike your enlightened Academy. I mean they're not used, of course, but they're obviously dear to his heart. So he took one down for me and handling the thing gave me a real funny feeling. Couldn't stop thinking about what it would be like to bend over for six of the best.”

“Fucking painful, Jeanie. That's what it would be like.” She gave a little shudder.

“Sure. That's what canes are – were – for. But I'm not the only person in the world to find the idea just a teeny bit exciting, am I?

“Shit. I'm sharing my bed with a perv. Ouch!” She pulled away from the poke in her ribs then rolled back in.

“No lover, of course you're not. Can't see the appeal myself, but I do have an old mate who's in the business of catering for all sorts of tastes. And if you wanna, like, explore this weird fancy of yours, that gives me an idea...”

oOo

She pushed the door open beside the plate that read STRICTLY CONFIDENTIAL and went in. When the jangling of the bell died away a face appeared at the hatch on the right.

“You must be Jean. Come on through.” Inside was a well-fleshed woman in a black dress dripping jewelry who held out her hand. “I'm Carol. And Barbara told me something of what you're after.”

She led the way along a passage to a small room at the back. Hung with black curtains it was softly lit with a bench down one wall and a frame about waist high in the centre of the floor. On four legs braced with cross-struts it sported a domed leather top.

“Why don't you try it out for size?”

Jean quailed for a moment – talk about jumping in at the deep end – then took hold of its sides and draped herself over.

“Now I know to be authentic you should be touching your toes or grabbing your ankles –”

“Oh no, this feels perfect.” Far more than would a bending posture, the device raised the target area to a position of prominence and with a rush of excitement Jean could almost hear the swish of the instrument and the thwack of its impact.

“You certainly look as though you belong there, my girl. And please don't take offence if I say what a gorgeous bum you're showing off.” She gasped a little as the hands roamed lasciviously over her backside.

“It is only the cane that interests you, isn't it? Because if you ever want to, um, broaden the experience, it would be my pleasure to give you a good spanking. Trousers and pants down over my knee, the works.”

The enthusiasm was infectious and Jean got up laughing. “Sorry not my thing, but I will bear that in mind.”

Carol put a hand on her arm. “It's okay, really. If I got up close to you, Barbara would skin me alive.”

Back in the office, she explained the arrangement she had made. “It's only provisional, you understand. Both parties may decide that once is enough. But with any luck I think we may have a match. A good fit of expectations.”

oOo

“Mmm...he's a lucky man, you know. I mean, being into caning arses – which I'm not – he will have a real beauty to work on here.”

Face down on the bed Jean wiggled her bottom under the caressing hands. “Well, thank you. And this time tomorrow, Barb, you'll be able to inspect the damage.”

“Getting nervous? Guess you must be.”

“Sure. I mean who volunteers for what used to be a schoolboy's worst nightmare? Bending over in Headmaster's study. I must be crazy.”

“Okay, it's going to hurt. That's the point, right? But you're a big girl, you can take it. Thing is, though, you are sure of the man?”

“Carol is, and I reckon that's good enough for me. A 'professional gentleman' is all she knows of him personally. He's been there with two different women, she says, and left both very happy. It's strictly a caning, nothing more. Six strokes to the seat of my trousers, no touching, no talking. I won't see his face and he won't see mine.”

Jean turned over and sat up. “But that, Barbara, is quite enough about my arse. On your back, girl and spread. Show me that juicy cunt.”

“Ooh, dirty talk. I love it. Attagirl...”

oOo

Five minutes before the appointed hour Jean made her way down the narrow passage between the buildings and turned her key in the door at the back. Inside she went to the left and found the black-lined room with its small but sturdy punishment horse.

The lighting was soft, save for a beam that picked out the area of its surface more brightly. She smiled to herself. He would have an excellent view of his target and little else so she decided to dispense with the mask. In any case, she would surely have control enough to keep the head facing forward.

Jean took off her jacket and hung it on the back of a chair. She was clothed in a black T-shirt and the white cotton knickers that could have been worn by a schoolgirl about to undergo a formal caning. They were topped with black trousers of a stretch material that clung to the contours soon to be the focus of attention.

She lowered herself across the frame and put her hands round the bar, balls of her feet on the floor at the back. The leather top under her belly made her feel in a strange way secure. It was a position she could hold. Then there was a noise in the passage and, dry-mouthed, she tightened her grip.

Suddenly there was another presence in the room and the sound of the door closing. After a silence broken only by the thudding of her heart the rod pressed against the centre of her seat and she braced herself against the pain to come.

It was every bit as bad as she'd imagined. The impact drove her hips into the leather and an instant later a line of fire seared her buttocks. Fuck, how it burned. She writhed helplessly until the ferocious smart eased then forced herself into stillness. Get a grip, girl. You have to do better. Five more and they're not going to hurt any less.

Nor did they. But oddly, knowing how it would be enabled Jean to hold herself tight to the horse through the intense peaks of pain that followed each of those strokes.

After the last she lay drained and gasping until she heard him leave and close the door. Pushing up on to her feet she cradled her trouser seat in her hands. The cheeks beneath were hot and heavy and her fingers could trace the ridges raised by the cane. The whole behind was excruciatingly tender, but with that came a rush of elation. She had actually taken her first caning...

Back at the flat the sense of euphoria was only increased as she lay on the bed for Barbara's inspection.

“God, Jeanie, this guy is an expert. Dead straight parallels across the whole bum.”

“And he's bunched them closer lower down, you see? I'm going to be sitting very carefully for a while.”

“Well you did it, girl. Even though you are nuts. And now if you don't want some ice or lotion, I'm just going to have to kiss it better. Right?”

Jean chuckled and raised up on to all fours as her flatmate knelt at the back. “If you say so, lover.”

“Oh I do, I do. And look here, Ms Pervy, you are fucking wet...”

oOo

It took a full fortnight for the marks to fade completely, so it was three weeks before Jean found herself back in the curtain-lined room. All was as before except that there was a coat hanging behind the door and a cane lying on the bench.

She picked it up and was instantly reminded of that time in the HM's study. The feel was identical to the one she had handled there. But of course, it would be. Experts would be expected to go for the same top-quality wood. Though wasn't it a little curious that there was in both a knobbly joint near the crooked end? Fuck, here she was letting her imagination run wild when the man could be back anytime.

Hastily Jean removed her jacket uncovering a white blouse and short pleated skirt as the new choice of clothing. White pants again – keeping the fantasy schoolgirl alive – but this time she was going to make them the target. So lifting the skirt above her waist she lay across the horse and presented her knickered bottom for what was to come.

And none too soon for the door opened almost at once to admit her chastiser. He gave no indication of surprise at the sight before him and without delay she felt the rod measure a line across the stretched cotton...

oOo

During the weeks of healing Jean began to form a plan. As she saw it, the stakes needed to be raised again. For the second encounter she'd lost the trousers, so the next time she should lose the knickers. And get caned on her bare bottom.

But not just any old bare bottom. It would need to be one presented for punishment in the lewdest fashion she could devise. And that might require a little experimentation.

After what seemed an age of impatience the appointed date arrived and Jean set out ten minutes ahead of schedule. As she walked in the warm night, the air-flow around the nakedness under the short skirt made her feel deliciously naughty. A schoolgirl about to cop it yet again.

This time there were no traces of an occupant in the room and she set to work. Legs spread wide with feet on the floor pulled the whole body too far back so that little was visible between them. Feet on the back strut was rejected too because the legs were too close together.

But then she discovered that if from that position she moved the feet out to the side bars she could toe them in, wrapped round the back legs of the horse.

She'd got it. The bum was up at the apex of the body, everything between the thighs fully exposed and she had a solid grip on the frame. It was when noises off signalled the arrival of her man that Jean realised something else. All the exertions had been quite a turn-on and she was lubricating steadily. While he was caning her bottom, his principal view was going to be of her gaping wet cunt.

However, the frisson of that thought did not survive the first stroke. She'd been unsure whether the second caning was more painful than the first because she'd lost a layer of protection or because he was hitting harder. Third time round there was no doubt for the cane was lashed down with an audible grunt of effort.

Its tip bit deep into her flank and she screeched, muscles in spasm and when the white heat passed she lay gasping, close to despair. Maybe rude displays were not to his taste, or maybe they were, and he was rising to the occasion. God help her...

Perhaps he took pity, or perhaps as before the shock of the first made it worse than what followed, but she was able – somehow – to ride the impossible peaks of pain through to the last. Her body slumped over the horse, all notions of display forgotten, she was aware through the haze that he stood watching her. Then the door opened and closed and she was alone.

It took some minutes before she was collected enough to make it out of the building where her flatmate was waiting to help her the short way home. Face down on the bed, she gave herself up to the tending of the weals with Barbara's arnica cream to the accompaniment of noises of disapproval. And in a very few minutes she had slipped into a deep sleep.

In the morning, Jean submitted to a further application of the salve. “So, Barb, you were biting your tongue last night. Are you not going to give me a row at all? Tell me how stupid I was to invite a real thrashing?”

Barbara was shaking her head. “Well, you are nuts, as I've said before. And I'm sure will say again. It looked bad last night, but the cane was designed for that particular use so the arse should be able to take it. Especially one as round and well-fleshed as yours, Jeanie.”

“Are you telling me I've got a big bum, or was that intended as a compliment?”

Barbara grinned. “Both, I reckon. Just promise me you'll cool it down a bit, yeah?”

“Well, I am fucking sore, so until that passes...” She ducked away from her lover's punch with a grin.

“No, seriously, I do get the message. Every one of those six was pure hell, and I've no plans to repeat the experience. Okay? And now can we take the focus off my bum and direct it to what you're hiding between those sexy thighs. It's far too long since I had a taste of that sweet pussy...”

oOo

“Ah, Ms Pearson. Have a seat.” He gestured to the armchair by his desk.

“I won't, thank you Headmaster. I seem...to have pulled a muscle in the back at the weekend. Nothing serious, but I'd better keep upright.”

“Sorry to hear that. I hope you'll be sitting comfortably soon.” Their eyes locked and it was as if a charge of electricity passed between them. For an instant, then it was gone.

“So what can I do for you, Ms Pearson?”

“I've brought the report you wanted, sir. On the new methods of evaluation.”

“Oh yes, thank you. I look forward to reading it.”

As she turned to take her leave, something about the wall-mounting caught her eye. The centre position that held the senior cane was empty.

“Yes Ms Pearson, you've noticed. I'm afraid the end of it was starting to split. I...loaned it to a friend a couple of days ago and it must have been put to rather vigorous use. By, ah, mutual agreement, you understand.”

“I see, sir. Between consenting adults.”

“Exactly. But I have the matter in hand. A replacement is on its way.”

“I'm glad to hear it, Headmaster. I mean...I know that you value this display.” She nodded toward the clock. “Now I've some last minute preparation for my next class, so if you'll excuse me...”

“Of course. Until the next time.”

The young teacher made her way along the corridor musing. He was known to be in a good match with an attractive wife. Who could be finding, just possibly, that every third weekend they were enjoying a particularly rampant coupling. And, if so, might she ever start to wonder why?

Jean shook her head with a smile at the flight of fancy. Yet, in sex – as Carol could surely confirm – the fanciful if not downright weird was never far away. For her own part however, after the recent excesses, she would indeed present a modestly trousered bottom at the next encounter. Keep things under control. Though she could always wear just a thong underneath...