The Headmaster’s Daughter

From Blushes 25

Soft moonlight bathed the gaunt oak-panelled study. It was just after midnight. She had heard the clock in the tower strike twelve as she had left her room. Samantha had crept on tiptoe along the landing, down the broad staircase and across the expansive echoing lobby. She grasped the old worn doorknob and turned it slowly. The door opened. Samantha smiled to herself. Daddy never locked the door to his study. There was really no need. None of the boys was permitted inside the old house unless accompanied by a teacher, and the building was detached from the rest of the school.

Samantha slipped inside the room and closed the door, feeling a little jumpy as the old door shut behind her with a gentle click. She felt the warmth of the thick pile carpet against her bare feet, so inviting after the cold polished stone of the hallway. Although she was wearing just a very short thin nightie, she felt very warm. On this still summer night her nervousness was making her feel that little bit too warm.

She glanced quickly about her, around the room, from the tall bay windows and the standard lamp to the old bookcase and the cabinet where she knew her father kept his canes. The long heavy desk was clear of papers and books; there was just the telephone and his writing pad and blotter. Daddy always left his study tidy at weekends, especially when he was going away. The examination papers obviously weren’t on his desk. She would have to look elsewhere.

She knelt down behind her father’s old chair and rifled quickly through a pile of loose papers. Nothing very interesting there. She crossed to the other side of the room and opened the tall cabinet; three long and extremely whippy-looking canes were stacked neatly in the corner. There was a pair of her father’s walking boots and his golf clubs, but nothing else.

Her eyes were now becoming adjusted to the moonlight. She scanned along the lines of the textbooks and files in the bookcase until she found the object of her search. Lying flat along the upper shelf were a dozen or so dark green box files, neatly stacked and clearly-labelled. In the second stack, three files down, the label on the file read Exam Papers — Current.

Samantha Hedley was of average build and height for her eighteen years, but those upper shelves were well beyond her reach. She looked about her quickly and saw an old piano stool in the bay of the window. Carrying it across to the bookcase, she stepped up onto it. Samantha stretched up to reach the high shelf and found that by standing on tiptoe she could just slip her fingers between the file she needed and the two other files above it. With the one hand she took the weight of those files whilst with the other she began to pull the third file slowly out of the stack. She worked carefully and with concentration; she did not hear the study door open slowly behind her, or the gentle rustle of movement.

Suddenly there was a blinding flash of light. In that split second the man with the camera saw the headmaster’s young daughter standing on tiptoe with her arms stretched high above her head. Her flimsy nightie had risen well above her waist, and her plump girlish bottom was clothed in nothing more than the briefest triangle of pink fabric.

Blinded by the electronic flash, Samantha stumbled off the stool, seeing only velvet blackness. All three files fell from the shelf, cascading their papers across the floor and the desk. Another blinding flash stung the room and she found herself losing her balance. She clutched the corner of her father’s solid desk for support as she stared into the darkness.

James Carter crossed to the windows and, using the pull-cord, drew the heavy velvet curtains across the entire bay. He switched on the standard lamp and began to study the two polaroid prints now developing in his hands. The girl was fighting to regain some composure. ‘I… I was just looking for a book. Thought I’d left it in here…’ She slipped down onto her hands and knees attempting to gather together the contents of the files now lying strewn across the carpet. Her panties, looking even briefer now, stretched taut across her upturned bottom. Her young breasts swung free within the short thin nightie as she reached out to collect the papers.

‘There doesn’t seem to be a book anywhere around there,’ commented Mr Carter. He paused for just a second. When next he spoke it was with the voice of authority, the commanding voice of the school’s Deputy Headmaster. It was a voice that demanded — and usually received — immediate obedience.

‘Samantha. Get up. Leave those papers exactly where they are!’ Looking white and frightened, she got to her feet. The reality of the situation was now dawning upon her.

She felt not only frightened but embarrassed too, standing there dressed in just a little ‘baby doll’ nightie set in front of this young authoritative man.

Carter crossed the room, stooped down and collected the three box files together. He looked at their spines. ‘Last year’s examination papers, and this year’s papers, which the boys will be sitting next week.’ Samantha clutched the hem of her nightie, trying to pull it down to a more modest position. She tried desperately to think of a viable explanation.

‘Don’t bother with excuses, Samantha. I know exactly what you were doing. Two boys were found with money collected from other boys this afternoon. The money was coming to you Samantha, in exchange for photocopies of these examination papers.’ She closed her eyes as her fear turned to near-panic. ‘The boys have given me the full story, Samantha, which is why I knew you’d be here tonight. I have also telephoned your father who has given me his full support and authority to deal with this matter.’

As he spoke, Carter crossed to the tall cabinet. Samantha knew he was going to collect a cane. He stroked his index finger almost casually across the three thin wands and chose the thinnest of the set. Turning to face her, he flexed it into a curve before her scared eyes.

He placed the cane, with a noisy clatter, across the headmaster’s shiny desk, then picked up the piano stool and placed it along one edge of the desk, clearing a few loose papers on the way. Samantha realised now the purpose of the stool.

‘Kneel on the stool, Samantha, and bend well over so that you are lying flat across the desk.’ She scrambled up, not daring to disobey. ‘No, put your arms out, either side of you, and hold the edges of the desk.’ She reached out and clutched the hard shiny moulding. By placing the stool so close to the desk, he had forced her to bend her body at the waist almost to a right angle, so thrusting her bottom out in a most exposed position.

Her nightie had ridden halfway up her back, and the polished mahogany felt cold against her bare tummy. Without the slightest haste, or indeed hesitation, Carter pulled the girl’s flimsy knickers down to her knees. He picked up the cane from where it had been lying beside her and stepped back, admiring the perfect curves of the bare teenage bottom awaiting punishment.

‘You move one inch, young lady, and I’ll call in two other housemasters to hold you down.’

He raised the cane and whipped it down smartly, right across the centre of the girl’s bottom-cheeks. Samantha yelled, as much in surprise as in pain and her body slid forward slightly along the polished desk-top. He let her stay in that position where he could now see dark brown curls peeping from between her legs. A band of pink and white had been drawn across the fleshiest peaks of her bottom.

He raised the cane a second time and this time whipped it down across the lower curves of her bottom, at the crease where her bottom joined her firm young thighs. This time Samantha screamed, her arms releasing their grip of the table edges in order to comfort her scorching rear.

Carter tapped her hands with the cane. ‘Put them back, Samantha.’

Her bottom-cheeks were quivering with the pain of that second stroke as Samantha stretched her arms once more and clutched the edging of the desk. She closed her eyes and waited. She heard the tell-tale whistle of the cane through the air, then the frightening crack, and a split-second later, she felt the searing pain snake once more across her cheeks.

Her bottom bucked with the impact, her legs flailing; she kicked the stool, which toppled over, leaving her dangling over the edge of the desk, her feet unable to touch the floor.

Carter dropped the cane onto the desk once again. ‘Get up on the desk,’ he barked, insinuating one hand between her legs to assist her.

Sobbing, she wriggled forward, so that she was lying the full length of the table-top. ‘Now turn over and keep holding the desk.’ In a blur of confusion and pain she rolled over and gripped the desk, her frightened eyes looking upwards towards the man, naked from her tummy to her toes.

Carter stepped to one side, retrieved the cane, and with his left hand grasped her slim ankles. He raised her legs, bending them forward in a tight arc towards her face.

Samantha sobbed helplessly; she knew he could see everything, and she was held so tightly she was totally unable to move. She watched as he raised that dreadful cane again, and she squeezed her eyes shut as it whipped down once more to bite into her pert plump bottom.

Samantha received six strokes of the cane and was told to stand, facing the bookcase, with her hands on her head. Her little knickers had fallen down her legs and from her ankles and were left lying on the floor beside the upset papers.

Just as Carter was returning the cane to its resting place alongside its companions in the tall cabinet, the study door opened. Daddy was back. He looked at the papers on the floor and then at his daughter’s rear view. ‘You’ve dealt with her, then?’

Carter nodded. ‘Six strokes, same as the boys, though they didn’t make quite such a song and dance about it as your daughter did.’

Daddy crossed to his daughter and took a closer look at her bottom peeping so immodestly from beneath the pink nightie. She turned to him. ‘I’m sorry, Daddy, honestly I am.’

‘There’s something which my daughter hasn’t been receiving for several years now, Carter. That’s probably the reason why she thought she could try this little trick.’ He picked up the piano stool and moved it into the centre of the room away from the desk. ‘It’s not something I can use on the boys, but when it comes to family discipline, I find it most effective.’

He found a set of keys in his jacket pocket, and unlocked the seat of the stool, taking out a heavy smooth-backed wooden hairbrush.

Samantha recognised it at once. ‘Oh no, Daddy, no. Please… I’ve just been caned!’

Daddy ignored her pleas, and turned instead to his deputy. ‘I would be grateful if you could do something about these papers, Jim. Just gather them together and lock them away. Miss Jones can sort them out on Monday morning.’

Without further discussion, Mr Charles Hedley grabbed his errant daughter, pulled her unceremoniously across to the stool, sat down and dragged her across his lap. He stripped her of her silly little nightie, placed his large left hand firmly across her bare shoulders, and with the hairbrush clutched tightly in his other hand, set about teaching his disobedient, deceitful, daughter a lesson she was unlikely ever to forget, and a lesson which he planned to repeat every evening for the next week.