The Head Girl

First part of a two part photo-story, from Roué 40

When Daphne Hobbs was appointed Headmistress of Barningham High she immediately encountered something of a problem. For a full twenty-four years prior to her being offered the post, the school — an independent, fee-paying establishment — had been run by two, now retired, spinster sisters. In their wisdom — and not without a little financial pressure, the governors had decided that one woman — providing the person concerned was suitably efficient — would be sufficient to cope with the day-to-day running of the school. So, where there had been two there was now only the one. Of course, Miss Hobbs had done her very best to convince her prospective employers at her interview that she would be able to manage and, indeed, this had proved to be the case… in all but one department.

The school’s governors were steadfast believers in the efficaciousness of corporal punishment; Barningham had employed this method of disciplining its pupils since it was founded in the late-nineteenth century. It was therefore the duty of Miss Hobbs to ensure that this tradition was preserved. That in itself was not a problem; the young woman fully approved of CP, and was indeed nothing short of delighted to be offered such an exalted position at one of the dwindling number of establishments where this form of correction was still in use.

The cause of Miss Hobbs’ predicament was that with in excess of a hundred girls on the school’s books she was, not to put too fine a point on it, somewhat hard-pushed to deal with each and every miscreant. There were, she found, simply not enough hours in the day to administer the much needed punishment to the several wrong-doers who reported to her for correction; she was not able to do justice to the authority with which the powers-that-be had entrusted her. Mindful of the possible repercussions of this inability to maintain order and discipline, Daphne Hobbs came up with a plan of action. If the Board of Governors couldn’t — or wouldn’t — employ an assistant, she would find help from the ranks of her charges.

She interviewed eight of the more senior pupils and after due consideration the post of Head Girl was offered to — and gladly accepted by — one Joanna Redstone. It was explained to the pretty, dark-haired eighteen-year-old that she would from that point on have the authority to chastise any girl whom she considered to be deserving of such treatment. Two stipulations, however, were made right from the outset; firstly, each case had to be reported to Miss Hobbs before she gave her permission for the offender to be dealt with by her ‘assistant’ and, secondly, the chastisements must only take the form of a hand-spanking on the seat of a girls’ knickers.

The young headmistress informed the governors of the situation, and they duly gave it their blessing — providing, they were at pains to point out, that she kept a weather-eye on the state of affairs.

For the first few weeks everything went swimmingly. Miss Hobbs was free to get on with her many other duties, dealing only with the more serious offenders. The petty ‘criminals’ — girls who talked in class, ran in the corridors, chewed gum, or were guilty of any of the one-hundred-and-one silly schoolgirlish offences —received a salutary spanking at the hands of the Head Girl.

It did not take long for Joanna to realise that up-for-punishment girls preferred not to have their transgressions reported to Miss Hobbs. There were two reasons for this; firstly, it simply wouldn’t look good on their record and, secondly, and more importantly, the Head might just decide to deal with the matter herself, and chastisement at the hands of the young Miss Hobbs invariably meant the strap or even the dreaded cane.

So, the vast majority of the more trivial transgressions —  and their perpetrators — went unreported. Joanna wasn’t particularly concerned about this as in virtually every case Miss Hobbs agreed with her that the girl in question deserved punishment, and delegated the task to her Head Girl. Joanna saw having to report each incident to the Headmistress as nothing more than bureaucracy; the red-tape necessary only to keep the records straight.

It had not gone unnoticed by Miss Hobbs that fewer and fewer cases were being reported to her. This, she surmised, could be attributable to one of two things; one, misbehaviour had reached an all time low and her regime was working successfully; or two, young Miss Joanna Redstone was taking the law into her own hands. If the former was the case the governors would have to be told: such a feather in her cap so early in her new job wouldn’t do her any harm at all. If, however, her Head Girl was over-stepping the bounds of her authority and dealing with the girls without her consent, well, action would indeed have to be taken.

She therefore made a mental note to get to the bottom of the situation. The idea of having a helping hand with regard to the administering of punishments had been hers, and if it got back to her employers that her Head Girl was handing out spankings willy-nilly, without her say so, the consequences could be dire. She would look into the matter just as soon as time permitted…

----//----

It was a bright early-June morning and the first lessons of the day had just begun in earnest. Joanna Redstone was doing her post-assembly patrol, ensuring that all the girls had made their way to their respective classes.

She was just passing the gymnasium when through the swing-doors burst the PT teacher, Mrs Caldwell, firmly grasping the wrist of one of her class, Gail Trotter.

‘Joanna,’ the teacher called after the Head Girl, ‘would you be kind enough to escort this wretch along to Miss Hobbs? I refuse to have her in my class!’ She landed a sharp slap to the girl’s thigh. ‘She is the most disruptive girl I have ever known!’

Joanna told the woman that of course she would take the young miscreant to see the Head, and enquired as to Gail’s offence. It transpired that, after several warnings, the girl had taken it upon herself to use the gym equipment without supervision (Mrs Caldwell had been otherwise engaged at the time — warming the bottom of one of the other girls in the changing-rooms). Apparently Gail had put to quite devasting use the gym’s medicine-ball, all but rendering unconscious a classmate.

Dressed in just her socks, white vest and navy-blue knickers, Gail was marched from the new wing, across the playground to the main building. Joanna was aware that the girl’s offence was — or at least could have been — serious and that by rights the Head should be informed. But Miss Hobbs was out at a meeting that morning and wasn’t expected back until around lunchtime. So, she thought, she would just have to deal with the matter herself. It had been a few days since the last spanking-fodder had come her way, and she was in no mood to pass up this opportunity.

Miss Hobbs’ absence was advantageous to Joanna in another way. Instead of carrying out the hiding in the cramped conditions of the stockroom — where she normally spanked the naughty girls, she could avail herself of the Headmistress’s private rooms.

When the two girls reached the door of Miss Hobbs’ quarters Joanna gave it a precautionary knock. They then entered, Gail being flung down onto the bed whilst the Head Girl sat herself down on a bedside chest of drawers. It was time for the lecture — a part of the proceedings which Joanna relished almost as much as the spanking itself.

She berated the miserable girl on the dangers of using gym equipment unsupervised and told her that Miss Hobbs would take a very serious view of her disobedience; that she might even choose to strap her… or even give her a dose of the cane.

This was all designed to instil terror in the girl and prod her into requesting a spanking at Joanna’s hands. It had the desired effect; Gail abjectly apologising for what she had done and pleading with the Head Girl not to be sent to the Head. ‘Very well,’ Joanna agreed, ‘but you must realise that the seriousness of your act forces me to deal very severely with you.’ Gail nodded dolefully. Joanna only ever spanked, so she could only assume that she’d get more spanks or harder spanks… or perhaps both…

Gail was ordered to stand and then to bend over the chest of drawers. Her navy-blue cotton knickers could hardly have been tighter, and the well-worn garment would afford the girl only a smidgen of protection from the blows that were about to follow.

Joanna shifted Gail’s position slightly and, standing to the girl’s left, she raised her arm and brought it down, her hand landing with an almighty Smackk!! which resounded about the room.

Again the arm was lifted and again it swung down, an equally ear-splitting Smackk!! ringing out. Not a sound had left Gail’s lips as yet, a fact that Joanna immediately set about remedying.

Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Four crisp, rapidly-administered spanks landed one on top of the other, bringing four separate, rising in pitch squeals from the girl.

‘Ow! Ooh! Please, Joanna…’

‘Silence, girl!’ the Head Girl boomed, ‘that’s nothing compared to what you’ve got coming to you. You could have hospitalised that girl, don’t you realise? You’re going to leave here with a very sore arse indeed, young lady.’

So saying, Joanna proceeded to smack alternately the cheeks of the diminutive, tomboyish Gail, pausing for ten seconds or so between each smarting blow. The girl wailed and pleaded and swayed her hips from side to side in a pathetically vain attempt to assuage the burning in her buttocks.

Joanna was good at her job. She had proved to be a quick learner, getting to know the most painful spots (though this she was aware of in no small measure by first-hand experience of cane and strap frequently administered by the school’s previous Head and her strict deputy). Joanna had also learned certain tactics; ploys which could be called upon to further distress the culprit. One of these — which she employed on every occasion — was the pause. The period in between each smack, she found could be used to quite beneficial effect. She would smack away at a steady rhythm, then let often as much as a minute elapse before striking the next blow. This never failed to catch the miscreant off guard; the smack, when it finally was administered, bringing a shriek of pain from its surprised and smarting recipient.

At least a minute had passed since Gail’s previous smack, and Joanna, lifting her hand high above shoulder-level, brought her palm into contact with the quivering bottom-cheeks of the anticipatory girl.

Smack!!

‘Ow!! Oh! Oh! Oh!’ Gail cried as the sudden pain coursed throughout her body. She again pleaded for leniency, saying that she had learned her lesson and wouldn’t do it again. She may as well have been speaking to herself.

‘Shut up, you snivelling little coward!’ Joanna spat, giving the beknickered rear another swipe.

Smack!!

A cry was emitted by the unfortunate Gail. ‘Please, Joanna… no more… ple…’

Smack! ‘Take that!’ Smack! ‘And that!’ Smack! ‘And that.’

Joanna stood back for a breather. It was then that her eyes caught sight of a clothes brush laying on top of a cabinet. She brushed past the bent over Gail who, believing her ordeal to be over, fell onto the bed. The Head Girl picked up the brush, feeling the smoothness of its wooden back. She turned and stepped back to face Gail.

Slapping the clothes brush into her palm, she announced much to the girl’s horror that a whacking with that implement might teach her a lesson.

‘But… but I’ve learned my lesson,’ Gail promised, ‘honest I have.’

‘I beg to differ, young lady,’ retorted Joanna. ‘A few mild smacks on the seat of your knickers?! Miss Hobbs would have given you the strap on your hands at least. She might even have given it on your bottom. You could even have had the cane. No, you young hooligan, you are to get a dose of this… Now, kneel up and stick that backside of yours well out.’ Gail didn’t move an inch. ‘This instant!’ Joanna barked.

Reluctantly the girl complied, her hands covering the Head Girl’s target area. A smart slap from Joanna’s hand to that of her victim caused the girl to uncover the seat of her tight knickers.

‘Put your hands on the bed in front of you,’ ordered the Head Girl, ‘and don’t put them in the way again… unless you want this on your knuckles.’ She slapped the clothes brush into her palm.

Suitably in position, her knicker-clad behind pointing prominently up — asking, or so it seemed to Joanna, to be dealt with, Gail awaited the first blow from this hitherto unknown implement of correction.

Standing to Gail’s right, Joanna raised her right arm, took aim, and brought the brush down with an energetic backhand swing. The back of the brush landed on the taut material of the girl’s school pants.

Whack!

‘Arghh!’

Whack!

‘Ow! P-please, Joanna…’

Whack!

‘Oh! Oh! Oh! Pleeease stop… please!’

Joanna ignored the yelps and protestations of the girl. She stood back and paused awhile. Gail was sniffing and wriggling her bottom from right to left. Joanna watched these writhings with no small amount of pleasure. She had the girl just where she wanted her. She was calling the tune. The snivelling schoolgirl had no choice other than to wait until the next one fell onto her burning backside.

Approximately a minute had elapsed before this next blow was administered — full across the very centre of both cheeks.

Whack!

Gail’s cries had now become convulsive sobs as she sniffed back the tears. The boyish Gail was one of the tougher pupils at Barningham High; her record of winning playground fights was well-known throughout the school. As Joanna had found on two previous occasions, it took a lot to reduce the girl to tears —unlike some others who bawled like a baby on receipt of a mere couple of hand-smacks. The tears, though, were on their way. Gail was trying her damnedest to stem the flow, but it was one battle she was not going to win.

Whack!

Gail’s response to this stroke was to land her in yet deeper trouble. Amid the ooh’s, arghh’s and owch’s there was heard a most unladylike expletive from the most unladylike-Gail. ‘You fucking sadistic bitch!’ she screamed at Joanna — a comment which might have had a ring of truth to it but, nonetheless, would have been better left unsaid.

‘Right,’ Joanna said, ‘you’ll pay for that, young lady’

----//----

Before continuing the punishment session, Joanna cast a glance at the clock on the wall. She was nothing short of delighted to learn that it was only twenty-past ten; that the two of them — Head Girl and hapless, naughty pupil — had been here in Miss Hobbs’ private quarters a mere half-hour. The Headmistress wasn’t due back for at least two hours, so there would be more than enough time for Gail to be attended to in just the way Joanna wished. The redoubtable eighteen-year-old hated such sessions to be rushed affairs, taking great pleasure from prolonging a girl’s ordeal as much as she could.

Gail had been instructed to get herself into position at the head of the bed, her hands gripping the headboard. This she has done — with no small measure of reluctance — and Joanna strode slowly around the bed, the clothes brush held firmly in her hands.

Having arrived at the left-hand side of Miss Hobbs’ bed, Joanna’s right foot came into contact with an object on the floor. She looked down and just peeping out from under the bed was a gym-shoe. Being fully aware that the chic headmistress wasn’t in the habit of wearing such footwear, Joanna could only guess as to the reason for its presence here in her private rooms. Whatever that reason was, the slipper had given her an idea. She still fully intended to warm young Gail’s sit-upon with further strokes from the clothes brush, but that gym-shoe would have to make an appearance at some stage in the proceedings. The waiting Gail was not aware of its existence and the Head Girl decided to keep it that way. It would be her little surprise…

The next development was to cause Gail further anxiety. At the waistband of her navy knickers were Joanna’s hands, and the garment — her ‘last line of defence’ — was definitely on its way downwards. Within seconds her bottom was bared — despite a despairing plea when they were at half-mast.

Gail had never been punished on the bare before. Her not infrequent visits to the Headmistress (usually as a result of her pugilistic pursuits in the playground) more often than not resulted in the strap on the palms. On the odd occasion that the Head did administer a chastisement to her nether regions it was always with her knickers safely in place.

Likewise, Joanna had never before bared Gail’s bottom for a spanking. Gail was fairly certain that the Head Girl was not authorised to do such a thing, it being quite possible that Miss Hobbs’ trusty ‘right-hand girl’ was guilty of an offence or two herself. Not that this could be of any help to Gail in her present plight. She could hardly report the matter to the Headmistress as, despite the fact that the horrid Joanna would doubtless be punished (something which Gail and many other pupils would rejoice in), there was the danger of Miss Hobbs deciding that — severe or not — Gail’s chastisement was unofficial and therefore did not count.

A strapping or caning from the Headmistress would, if that were the case, ensue, and there was no way the girl was going to risk that. No, she told herself, shed simply have to take whatever she had coming to her; whether it was officially permitted or not, if Joanna chose to punish her on the bare, then so be it.

The Head Girl stood eyeing the naked hindquarters of the naughty Gail. She was more than a little proud of her handiwork. The hand-spanking had brought about a blotchy, pinkish hue, whilst where the clothes brush had been applied there were deepening, dark-red areas of flesh.

Joanna made a mental note to speak to Miss Hobbs to see if she could be granted permission to attend to the pupils’ bare bottoms in future. After all, she mused, one can better judge what effect the hiding is having if one can view the results. And, should the Headmistress deny her this, she’d do it anyway, for how was the woman to know?

Although she had never before attended to any of the pupils’ uncovered bottoms, Joanna Redstone was, as it happened, familiar with such punishments. Her uncle, whom she visited at holiday time, never missed an opportunity to put his dear niece over his knee for an avuncular tanning; and more often than not he would, prior to dealing with her teenage rump, take down her knickers. She knew, then, the humiliation that this caused; the ignominy of being bare of bottom and under the gaze of someone else’s eyes. She was aware, also, of the need to keep concealed those areas a young lady must at all times hide, and knew only too well how difficult this was when ones backside is being scorched by a thorough spanking.

Apart from having her own bare bum whacked from time to time (such occasions had become less frequent recently due to her uncle’s dodgy ticker), Joanna did have one experience of administering correction to an unprotected rear-end. It was an incident she had mentioned ‘in passing’ to Miss Hobbs when being interviewed for the position of Head Girl. It had been a one-off, never to be repeated experience, but experience it was — so Joanna saw no harm in bringing it up. Of course, she had exaggerated the incident — the time when she spanked her cousin — into a tale of spankings galore; a situation that existed at home where she was entrusted with the disciplining of four cousins and her brother and sister. ‘Mummy is not a well woman,’ she had informed an impressed Miss Hobbs, ‘and with daddy away from home so much I am left to deal with any naughtiness. I think you will find, Headmistress, that I have the necessary qualifications.’ Joanna felt sure that this lie (or bending of the truth — as she chose to call it) had swung it for her. Bending of the truth, though, was in point of fact quite an understatement.

The one and only experience which gave Joanna the idea for her story had taken place just over a year previously. Her cousin Reggie — staying at her house for a week of the hols — was caught in flagrante delicto by his nosey young relative. With nothing better to do, Joanna had gone walkabout around the house. She had heard some strange sounds coming from the spare room, and when investigating this she discovered Reggie laying on the bed, naked but for his underpants around his thighs, indulging in a spot of vigorous masturbation.

Unnoticed, Joanna watched the spectacle right up to its inevitable conclusion. Then she made her presence known. Needless to say, she called young Reggie all sorts of defamatory things —the confused lad yanking up his pants and cramming his spent tool inside. Looking back, Joanna felt that she probably wouldn’t even have thought of spanking her cousin had he not put the idea into her head. Embarrassed and very, very flustered, cousin Reggie pleaded with her not to tell his parents, adding that ‘Dad’ll thrash me something terrible’ if she did. It was like a light being switched on in the girl’s brain.

She agreed not to ‘split’ on the lad, but pointed out that such disgusting behaviour could not go unpunished. She despatched him to the bathroom to clean himself up and instructed him to return to the bedroom as soon as he had done this. Naked, he shuffled back into the room, his pants held in front of him. She immediately told him to throw the garment into the wash-basket, saying that he had nothing to hide from her now; that she had seen everything he had.

Sitting at the foot of the bed, Joanna told the lad to go over her lap. Aware that were was no way out, Reggie complied, draping his naked form over his cousin’s thighs. Joanna then set to work on his backside. She took to it like a duck to water, bringing her palm down hard a couple of dozen times — till poor Reggie was squirming about and crying like a baby. She then tossed him to the floor and left, telling him what a lucky lad he was not to be reported to his parents. Unknown to Joanna, Reggie also considered himself fortunate. but not for the reason his cousin had meant. Minutes later he was back at it again — with something better than an adult magazine to bring about his climax. Though this time he made sure the door was locked…

----//----

After a few more whacks with the clothes brush, Joanna produced the gym-shoe to the horror of the sore-of-bottom Gail. ‘Please, Joanna,’ she implored, ‘please… I’ve had enough… I’ve learned my lesson… please…’ Gail even tried to wrest the slipper from the Head Girl’s grasp, but although she was a tough little fighter she had more than met her match in the dominant, powerful Joanna.

Gail was made to bend over again, her bare bottom sticking prominently up, awaiting its next assault. Joanna lifted her arms high into the air, aimed, then brought the rubber-soled implement down with great gusto.

Whhupp! — It landed across the middle of both buttocks, an exhalation of air being the girl’s response.

Whhupp! — Another one, this time slightly higher up on Gail’s behind, a barely audible squeak leaving her trembling lips.

There then followed four hard wallops — two to each cheek. By the time the last of these had landed Gail was howling for mercy. She knew — and it was not lost on Joanna — that she was near to tears for the first time. She was sniffing and whimpering, her hips swaying to and fro.

Down the slipper came again — harder than the others and lower down. This portion of Gail’s rear had not had much attention, so this stroke brought about a whole new area of hurt.

‘Please, Joanna,’ she wailed, ‘n-no more…’

‘You are to receive six more, young lady,’ Joanna coolly announced, ‘and you’ll stay still throughout. If there is any fuss whatsoever I shall add extra.’

The Head Girl always ended her punishment sessions in this way — telling the culprit how many were to come. She found it asserted her authority all the more; she called the tune; she was to be obeyed. The miscreant had no say in the matter.

Joanna had taken aim and was just about to deliver the first of the six when the door opened and in stepped Miss Hobbs.

Standing at the foot of the bed, the young woman eyed her Head Girl gravely. It took some time for the situation to sink in properly. Here was Joanna Redstone chastising one of the pupils… on the girl’s bare bottom… with a slipper… and in her own personal chambers. Incredulous, she blinked at the scene before her. She then cleared her throat and addressed the Head Girl.

‘I had suspected such things were going on behind my back, young Redstone,’ she began, ‘but I had no idea that you would dare to over-step your authority so flagrantly!’

Slipper in hand, Joanna could only stand there and accept this lecture. For her part, Gail just wanted to cover up her punished bottom. She felt distinctly silly in her on-all-fours position, her burning buttocks rudely on show.

Miss Hobbs strode purposefully around to the side of the bed at which stood her Head Girl. She bent from the waist and inspected Gail’s backside, touched the hot flesh with her fingertips, then stood upright again and looked into Joanna’s eyes.

‘Tell me, Redstone,’ she said, ‘what is this girl guilty of?’

Joanna cleared her throat. ‘She… er… she threw a medicine ball at another girl in PT… despite being warned about it by Mrs Caldwell… She nearly knocked the girl out, Miss,’ she tried to explain.

‘I see,’ replied the Headmistress, ‘and you took it upon yourself to bring her here to my private quarters and punish her, did you?’

‘Well… yes, Miss. You see, you weren’t here, and I…’

‘You decided not to wait for my return and punish the girl without my permission. This has been going on for quite some time I expect, Redstone?’

‘N-no, Miss… honest.’

Miss Hobbs turned her attention to Gail. She asked the girl if Joanna had ever dealt with her before. Gail so wanted to answer in the positive, but decided against it. ‘No, Miss,’ was her whispered reply.

The Headmistress looked again at Gail’s crimson buttocks. ‘Cover yourself up, girl,’ she ordered — the embarrassed Gail quickly pulling her knickers up over her stinging rear end.

Miss Hobbs turned again to face Joanna. ‘It seems to me, young lady,’ she said, ‘that you are guilty of a number of offences. Firstly, you have punished a girl without my consent… Secondly, you have used my private — out-of-bounds — quarters for this purpose… Thirdly, you have chosen to use a slipper on the girl when you are authorised only to use your hand… And fourthly, you administered this punishment on the girl’s bare bottom when you are expressly forbidden to do so. I, therefore, have no alternative other than to punish you severely, Redstone… You, girl… Gail Trotter, is it not?’ she asked, looking at the girl on the bed who nodded dumbly, ‘you, it appears, have been punished enough for your crime. You may run along to your lessons. As for you, my ex-Head Girl,’ she continued, now eyeing sternly the anxious Joanna, ‘you will report to my study at four-thirty this afternoon.’

Gail scurried off, sore-bottomed but overjoyed that further punishment was not to be administered. She was followed by Miss Hobbs who, upon reaching the door, turned to face the forlorn Joanna. ‘Four-thirty, young lady… and not a second later.

In next month’s Roué we continue the story. The scene shifts to the study of Miss Hobbs, and it is the turn of Joanna Redstone to receive well-deserved punishment — at the hands of the strict Headmistress. And if Joanna had thought that her misdeeds would be dealt with by way of Miss Hobbs’ strap to her hands, she had another thing coming. Barningham High’s defrocked (in more ways than one) Head Girl is taken through quite the most severe thrashing of her young life.