Mr Wilton Sees the Light

From Blushes 26, the second part of two, continuing on from Undercover Uniform.

Poor Elaine! The pain! That cane!

Devastated! How could it be happening! To her! Spread over Mr Wilton’s desk and clutching onto the far edge for dear life. As…

‘Aaaaiiieeeehhhh!’

She had thought of it before of course. What it would be like. Picturing the others — Deborah, Suzanne, Kirsty — all with those tell-tale spangles on their knickers in gym. Noting when one spangle became two; when three became four. Imagining it: that little ceremony in Mr Wilton’s office which produced the extra spangle. Imagining it with a shiver down her spine. Because Elaine knew, girls talked, in hushed tones, but they talked. And she knew Mr Wilton’s office of course. So she could picture the scene, had pictured it. ‘Take your skirt off. Take your knickers down…’ But never ever had she thought.

Because Elaine knew she was a model student. It was only by chance that she was here at all, at St Hilary’s College which specialised in failed A-Level girls. Elaine would not have failed her A levels except that she had been ill and missed a lot of classes. But since arriving at St Hilary’s she had been an absolute model of behaviour, an excellent student and so charming and well-conducted that no one could find a word against her.

Mr Wilton of course had desired her in terms of his cane because he desired any attractive girl in that respect. It was part of his innate feeling for discipline. Elaine might have guessed that but it was generally accepted that Mr Wilton was a fair man, he wouldn’t do it for no reason. So Elaine had felt quite confident that in contrast to other unfortunate girls she, Elaine Puckwell, would never find herself in that breath-stopping situation. She had been able to view it all with a certain detached, even smug, air.

Until today. Ten minutes ago. When here in Mr Wilton’s office he had said… It was so horrendous that it was still impossible to believe it. Except that…

‘Aaaiieekkk!’

Except that it was happening all right. ‘No! Please…’ Elaine heard herself frantically gasp. To be answered by Mr Wilton’s firm, clearly excited voice:

‘Keep still, Elaine. Show me that you’re able to take it, like the other girls. You must take your punishment. We can’t have slacking.’

How could Sidney Wilton say these words? Knowing that it was quite untrue, that Elaine had not been slacking in gym at all. When he had always prided himself on never caning a girl without a proper legitimate reason? The answer was that Sidney Wilton was feeling no qualms at all: no sense of shame or guilt. Just a feeling of high exhilaration, of sublime pleasure, and also of tension gone, a cloud lifted from him. He had been agonising for so long, fighting with his conscience against the overwhelming desire to get at this delicious girl’s bottom. And now he had finally broken through all that and simply done it. The result: indescribably marvellous.

Crack!

‘Aaeeeooowwwhhh!’

He could indeed go on for ever, or at least all evening, but he stopped at six, his usual number. A girl could take six at a go without real difficulty although they were usually sure they couldn’t. He pulled Elaine up from the desk. Six nice red stripes across her lovely bottom: a sight he had at times despaired of ever seeing. Were those tears in the big blue eyes as she stood on wobbly knees, one hand on the desk for support and the other covering her privacy? Certainly the full red lips were quivering in a somewhat uncontrolled manner.

‘Stand up straight, Elaine. Hands at your sides.’

The hand in front reluctantly came away from what it was covering. The knickers of course were still down round the thighs. A heady sight.

‘All right, my dear? Still stings a bit, does it?’

A strangled sobbing sound. Actual words were not possible. The stinging pain was diabolical, scarcely bearable still, but there was also the fierce sense of injustice. She hadn’t been slacking in gym. She couldn’t believe Mr Burt had said she was. Mr Burt was always friendly to her — as indeed were all the other masters. As Mr Wilton had been in the past. Until now. For no reason…

Yes tears were now rolling down the darling cheeks.

‘Don’t take it to heart, my dear. You’ve taken your punishment and it’s over now. You can pull up your knickers and put your skirt back on.’ A last lingering look at the neat black bush, which for so long he had pictured but not seen, then Sidney Wilton went over to his cupboard. The spangle box. Counting out six.

‘You know where to sew them, of course, Elaine. You’ve seen the others. And I should like to see you in the morning, first thing. Just to, er, check everything’s all right.’

----//----

Sewing the spangles on her pink knickers up in her room after supper. One spangle on each pair, right hand lower front. Where all the other girls had spangles but Elaine had been quite confident she never would. Tears again coming to her eyes. The thought of it. And the thought especially of next gym class. When everyone would see. Elaine Puckwell had at last been caned! There would be excited whispers, and commiserations. But in fact they would all be pleased. Delighted. Elaine Puckwell brought down to earth.

She would go and see Mr Burt, that was what she would do. Challenge him to say that he really had reported her for slacking. He wouldn’t lie. And then if he said No she would go back to Mr Wilton and accuse him. Yes that was what she would do.

But even if she did that… the spangles were there on Elaine’s knickers. She had been caned.

----//----

She saw Mr Burt the next morning. After of course having to go to Mr Wilton’s office again. And submit to what she knew was his regular after-caning ritual. Take her knickers down and let him check her bottom, supposedly to confirm that all was well following the caning, but in reality, so they all said, just so he could fiddle about a bit again. And have another good look.

Elaine submitted to it all tight-lipped. She was going to see Mr Burt and then she was going to confront Mr Wilton.

James Burt was in an awkward position. As he had been when Mr Wilton had come to him and insisted on a statement that Elaine had not been working properly in gym. Clearly one could not afford to oppose the Principal’s wishes but it meant telling an outright lie about the charming and lovely girl for she always performed precisely as required. And moreover there was the reason why Mr Wilton wanted the false statement: simply so that he could cane this lovely girl. James Burt knew that. The thought produced a nasty twinge in his insides. He had been able to think of nothing else since. The thought was sickening, almost sacrilegious. But at the same time… exciting.

Yes, the thought of Sidney Wilton caning this marvellous girl had been tremendously exciting. It gave James Burt an erection. Shameful, but it did. He had thought about it many times since the Principal had forced that false statement from his lips and every time, virtually, he had got an erection. Most shameful but there it was. And here it was again now, this morning, with the sweet girl herself in his office. An enormous erection in fact, as big as any man had ever had, it felt like. It was indeed fortunate he was sitting down, behind his desk and he certainly couldn’t stand up. The thought of it: this sweet girl standing before him bending over Sidney Wilton’s desk with her skirt off and her pink knickers down. Oh dear, it was almost too much.

What she was saying of course was about that very thing. The pretty face pink with indignation and also perhaps embarrassment. Oh dear. Oh dear. What with Elaine’s hotly accusing face and his acknowledged guilt and his shameful erection as well James Burt was in something of a state. What could a man do?

Well what could he do? Shaking his head sorrowfully. ‘I didn’t actually, Elaine… Well not really… But you see, Mr Wilton… We all have to… I mean he is the Principal, isn’t he? And if he, er, wants…’ They were weaselly words. But what else?

‘You lied, didn’t you.’ Elaine’s voice trembling. Eyes blinking with threatening tears. ‘You lied. Just so that…’

James Burt stumbling to his feet, enormous erection or not. To put comforting arms round the distressed girl. And also… Oh dear!… the intimate contact. Which was almost too much. Elaine shaking her head, crying now. At the perfidiousness of men. Mr Wilton; Mr Burt. Perfidious Mr Burt was in fact surreptitiously lifting her skirt. To take hold, in a comforting way of course, of that choice bottom which had been so sorely, so unfairly, treated.

----//----

No, there was not a lot Elaine could do about it, other than accept the situation. Life was not fair: it is a lesson we all have to learn. And if Mr Wilton — and Mr Burt — didn’t want to be fair what could she do? That hateful spangle on her knickers in gym, with all the others beside themselves. ‘Oh Elaine, what was it for?’

Just managing not to cry again. Trembly-lipped, telling them the truth. ‘Bloody Burt said I was slacking when I bloody wasn’t.’

‘Oh no, Elaine, of course you weren’t.’ Chorusing sympathetic voices. When you knew they really thought: bloody marvellous.

Yes the gym class was awful, as bad in its way as the actual caning. Mr Wilton came in near the end, as was his wont, to watch. His eyes keenly on the energetic girls. But especially on Elaine and her brand new spangle.

Because what now for Sidney Wilton? He had finally done it, got past that mental block which had caused him so much anguish. Did that mean it was all over and he could forget it? No it did not. He had done it but right away he wanted to do it again. Already. There wasn’t that feeling of tension now but there was the feeling of even stronger desire for that heavenly pleasure. He had experienced it. He simply wanted more.

And he had got over that inhibition.

In fact Sidney Wilton seemed to have got over all his inhibitions. He had always caned in his office, at the college, but he had always fancied caning at his home. At the weekend, say, when his wife was out. He had thought about it but scarcely considered it seriously. There were bound to be problems — prying neighbours, for instance, immediately came to mind. But now he wondered: why not? Why should he be embarrassed by the thought of taking a girl home, say Friday evening and have her stay overnight. In that cosy little spare room. And then at his leisure deliver an invigorating caning. Well why not?

Deborah Milford: he would try it with her first. He did — and it was truly delightful. No problems: no importunate neighbours banging at the door demanding to know what he was up to. Nothing. Just the sweet girl in that cosy little room, gasping, yelping, as he used first his hand and then his trusty cane. Simply marvellous. And afterwards, when she was in the bath… More heady pleasure for Sidney Wilton. And likewise more unpleasantness for Deborah.

And Deborah’s crime, which led to her unhappy overnight stay with the Principal? Nothing really. ‘A little general slackness, I think,’ he had observed. The same as with Elaine in effect but this time not even bothering to get one of the staff to back him up. Because Sidney Wilton had quite lost his inhibitions. Well, he was the Principal, wasn’t he? And if he decided that a girl needed it, did he have to justify his action? No he didn’t. And so…

And so Elaine was shortly on an overnight stay; to get her second spangle. And not long afterwards her third. Suzanne got her seventh. Kirsty her sixth. And Jackie Cutler who was supposed to be protecting herself with those extra tuition sessions at Mr Youngley’s, found that was no longer having any effect. She was being made to go anyway. Which was bad news for Mr Youngley.

‘He’s caning me anyway,’ she dolefully informed him. ‘So I don’t want any more special tuition, what’s the point?’

Well what was the point?