The Waiting is the Worst — Definitely

From Blushes 14 with Lucie Martin

There was the accustomed high-pitched whistling sound as the cane blurred through the air. It bit deep into the soft, naked bottom awaiting it. For a fraction of a second, it seemed to bury itself deep. Then it arced away, leaving behind a miniature tramline of pink-red pain.

It was the first stroke of a promised twelve.

William Clifford, Senior Master at St Osith’s, contemplated the weal with mingled satisfaction and regret. Sonia Benson, who was bending over before him, fingers to toes, should have been his star pupil… a front-runner for University Honours. Instead she was graded in the lower half of the Fifth Remove. He noted that the girl had only jerked up momentarily, emitting a brief, breathless gasp, before returning to her straight-legged bending posture.

There was no doubt that the Benson family bred their girls both tough and obstinate. William Clifford recalled readily to mind Sonia’s sister, Marjorie. She had left two years before. There was another sister, too, five years gone. Jessica. Ah yes… as stubborn as they come. Intelligent and self-possessed but self-willed almost beyond belief. About the most difficult pupil he’d ever had to handle. Now he was beginning to wonder. Sonia could well be her match.

The cane blurred down again. The Senior Master was not holding back.

A louder and more breathless gasp and Sonia Benson jerked up more abruptly. A second miniature tramline joined the first, about an inch lower down a well-rounded rump.

William Clifford strolled away towards a tall, Georgian window which looked out onto a broad, undulating lawn. Dark green and close-clipped. A disciplined lawn, one might have called it… in keeping with the traditions of St Osith’s.

‘Were your parents at Prize-Giving this afternoon, Sonia?’

‘No, sir…’

‘You may stand up for the moment, girl.’ Sonia’s fingers left her toes and, as she came erect, her black, pleated gym-slip skirt fell — thus regaining her some degree of modesty. ‘Why not?’

‘They knew I wouldn’t win any prizes, sir.’

‘How did they know that, Sonia?’

‘I told them I wouldn’t, sir.’

It was sheer, blatant cheek! Uncaring. Talent deliberately wasted.

‘Sonia,’ said William Clifford. Stepping back towards the tall girl. ‘Don’t you want to be a success? An academic success? I know you have the brains for it. Like your sisters did.’

‘I want to be a success on my own terms,’ stated the girl firmly. ‘Frankly, I resent institutionalised education. What I want to do, I shall do, and do well.’

‘That is pure arrogance, Sonia.’

‘Maybe.’ A shrug of wide shoulders, a toss of a dark head.

‘Bend over again, Sonia. You have to learn!’

The girl did not protest or delay, she touched her toes in one single movement, then brought her hands back so as to pull up her short skirt. Her naked bottom seemed to thrust almost challengingly.

William Clifford accepted that challenge.

‘A-aaahhh… aaaggghhhh!’ This time he caught her on the overhang, just at the join of the thighs and, obviously, it really hurt her. She twisted and shuddered then, within moments, courageously bent over again. The Senior Master could not deny his admiration… not only for the delightful spectacle presented to him but also for the spirit shown. This 17-year-old was a true Benson.

William Clifford paused. He was never one to inflict punishment in a hurry, being aware that waiting-tension was a powerful and salutary ingredient. He noted appreciatively the convulsive clench of a pair of ample nates which had expected to receive another painful cut yet, for the moment, had not yet done so.

‘It wearies me to see talent wasted,’ he said, half to himself it seemed. Then he laid on the fourth stroke with the same venom as he had done the third.

It fell high on the buttocks, encircling and biting with a deeper hue into the right flank.

‘Aaaghhhh… ooohhhh….’

I am beginning to get through to this girl, said William Clifford to himself, yet I do not think she will break. Not completely anyway. She has a lot of guts and a hard core of Benson stubbornness.

‘You may stand up again, Sonia.’

The girl came erect once more. Her cheeks were pale and she was biting her lower lip. Yet there was no hint of tears. She will be very aware, thought William Clifford, that there were more than twice the number of strokes still to come than that she has already received. Not a happy thought.

He came close to the tall figure, slim and athletic. They were almost on the same eye-level. ‘Are you prepared to make a greater effort, Sonia?’ The young face shimmered. ‘To accept school methods… to use your undoubted talents?’

‘I… I have told you, sir. I resent institutionalised education. I prefer to educate myself in my own time and in my own way.’

‘A rebel, eh?’ William smiled coldly.

‘I wouldn’t say that… sir…’ There was an insolent tang to the “sir”.

‘If you promise me you will make a genuine effort in the coming term, I will let you off with two more strokes,’ said the Senior Master evenly. A pair of pale brown eyes regarded him steadily. Defiantly, one might have said.

‘I will do what I think is best for myself… sir…’ came the reply.

William Clifford felt a twinge of annoyance. Yet there was some feeling of compassion, too. Girls in the Benson mould were natural martyrs. ‘Bend over again, Sonia,’

Again there was neither complaint nor delay. Seemingly, the girl had hyped herself up to receive the twelve designated strokes and she was determined not to chicken out verbally or physically. Worthy but foolish.

William Clifford gave of his best, a full-blooded cut across the very centre of that splendidly-presented bum.

‘Oooww… ooowww… aaaggghhh!!’ This time, Sonia not only jerked erect more quickly, her arms and hands flew back as if to protect herself. Ah yes, said William Clifford to himself, I am getting through to her.

‘Bend over again, Sonia. At once!’

He half expected a plea… perhaps just for a pause… so that she could regain some composure. But it didn’t come. There was no more than a groan as Sonia bent in a taut curve once more.

Beautiful!

Another one across the overhang, almost overlaying the first. It produced the first shriek of pain from the girl… stalwart and stubborn as she might be. ‘Oh God… ohhh… God…’ she moaned to herself as her hands pressed to the junction of her buttocks and thighs.

She is wondering if it’s worth it, thought William Clifford, with a considerable degree of satisfaction. Just a couple of words and she could get herself let off six more strokes like that. The temptation must be strong. To be sure she would be considering it. Was he, for once, going to tame a Benson girl?

He strolled to the Georgian window again and surveyed the green sward. ‘You may stand up, Sonia,’ he said. The girl, in fact, was still half erect, hands still pressing to the cruellest of weals. Nevertheless, she was not complaining nor crying. Simply suffering stoically. Oh what a depth of pride was there! And oh how hard a taskmaster pride could be! ‘Do you want to say anything to me, Sonia?’ asked William quietly.

‘N-no… sir…’

‘Are you sure? Nothing so simple as I’ll try harder next term, sir?’

The effort of will was visible; it seemed to draw the skin taut over that young face. ‘No… sir…’

The Senior Master turned from the window and came back flexing his cane. ‘Six more like that is going to be very painful, Sonia,’ he said rather unnecessarily. The girl would know that very, very well! He watched her lower lip beginning to quiver and could see her stubborn will weakening.

‘Mr Clifford… S-Sir…’ she said in a low voice.

‘Yes?’

‘Well, sir…’ A pause. Were not those cheeks colouring? ‘My… my sisters told me…’ Another pause.

‘Told you what?’

‘That… sometimes… instead… you’d take them into another room…’

‘Did they indeed!’ William Clifford was equally indignant and delighted. So they’d let the cat out of the bag, had they? Well, it didn’t matter a damn now. Nothing could ever be proved. But the implications of that simple statement were intriguingly suggestive. Most!

‘That… that’s what they said, sir…’ Sonia Benson was now blushing hotly and she lowered her eyes.

‘So…’ said the Senior Master slowly, ‘you, young Miss, would rather go in the other room, as you put it, than receive another six of the cane. Is that it?’

A nod of that dark head. ‘Yes, sir.’

‘You’d rather do that than make a positive commitment to working harder in this establishment in the future?’

‘Yes, sir. It… it’s a matter of principle, sir.’

It is a matter of being stubbornly, bloody-Benson-minded, said William Clifford to himself. Well, there it was. If that’s the way she wanted to play it. The other two had been the same. ‘You are being very foolish, Sonia. You are only harming yourself. And I don’t mean harming yourself by getting a cane across your bottom. I am concerned with your long-term future.’

Silence. Head hanging a little. The room was very still. On the floor between them lay Sonia’s dark-blue school knickers. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Y-yes, sir…’ The young voice shook a little.

‘Very well then. You will go into the other room. Go now.’ William Clifford pointed to the green door to his left. It led into what he liked to call his ‘Inner Office’ but was, in fact, a small comfortably-furnished bedroom where he could take a nap whenever he wanted. Or where, from time to time, he could take one of his errant pupils. He watched the girl turn and walk towards the door. ‘When you are inside, Sonia, remove the rest of your clothes. All of them. I shall join you shortly.’

The door opened and closed quietly. William Clifford sat down at his desk and drummed his fingers on it. He would give her five minutes. That ought to stretch her nerves nicely.

----//----

Sonia Benson stood on the far side of the room, half turned away from him, the weals on her bottom standing out very vividly. I certainly whaled into her, he thought. He locked the door. It was a symbolic gesture rather than a precaution.

‘Turn and face me, hands at the back of your neck,’ ordered William Clifford crisply.

Shyly the girl turned, lids lowered, cheeks pink. Hmmmm not at all a bad figure, but, as yet, a little under-developed. Nice firm, round breasts, though and that fair downy triangle had been kept most neatly trimmed. She was more like Jessica than Marjorie, he reckoned.

He said nothing, simply waiting for the girl to raise her eyes.

When she finally did so, he saw the instant flash of apprehensive dread in them. He saw their direction, too. They were looking at the cane he had brought in with him. The soft mouth opened a little.

‘B-but… sir…’

‘Yes, Sonia?’

‘But, sir… my sisters said… in this room, if they took their clothes off… and… and, well you know… they didn’t g-get caned…’

‘Is that what they told you, Sonia?’

‘Yes, sir.’ Doubt and puzzlement were in those eyes now. ‘W-why… isn’t it true?’

‘Oh yes, that’s true enough, Sonia,’ said the Senior Master.

‘Well, then… sir… I mean I’ve got my clothes off…’

‘There was a provision to that, Sonia,’ he said. And you have got your clothes off because I enjoy looking at naked 17-year-olds, he thought. Apart from caning them!

‘Oh? W-what was that?’

‘It was, Sonia,’ said William Clifford evenly, ‘that they had to be 18 years old before they were permitted the alternative.’

The girl’s face fell. ‘But… but I’m nearly 18, sir,’ she protested. ‘I’m 17 and three-quarters.’

‘But you are not yet 18, Sonia. Not yet an adult. And you have to be an adult to be offered the alternative. That’s common sense.’ He coughed gently. ‘And… er… legitimate.’

The girl looked bewildered and dismayed. ‘Can’t you m-make… an exception?’ she asked in a quavering voice.

William Clifford was sorely tempted, but he shook his head. ‘I am afraid not, Sonia,’ he replied. ‘It’s a matter of principle.’ Just the phrase she had used a little earlier. ‘And you are a girl who believes in principles, is that not so?’

Whereas Sonia had been thinking she had triumphed whilst sticking to her principles (even if it did involve some sacrifice) she now saw she had lost.

She was angry as much as anything — and it showed.

‘So… what are you going to do… sir…’ Again that tang.

‘I should have thought that was obvious, Sonia. I am going to complete your caning. You are in another room and you are naked. That is the only difference. It will hurt just as much.’

‘Oh God…’ Sonia covered her breasts with one arm and placed a hand over her triangle. ‘All for nothing,’ she half moaned.

‘If, when you are 18 and I have occasion to cane you,’ went on William Clifford unctuously, ‘you may be given the option of the alternative. But not until then.’

‘It’s unfair…’

‘You can still make a promise… about your future conduct…’

‘No… no. NOOO!’ cried out the girl in fury. She had gone so far she was not going to give in now. The Benson obstinacy was going full blast. The Senior Master was glad to note it.

‘Very well, Sonia. You will now kneel on the bed and put your head down into the pillow. And I advise you to take a firm grip of that brass head-rail.’

‘It… it’s so unfair,’ wailed the girl. All the same she got up on to the bed and knelt as she had been directed.

William Clifford surveyed the curving, naked form with pleasure. ‘I want your bottom higher than that, Miss. Come on, get it right up.’ It came up slowly, curving most invitingly. ‘Now, Sonia’ he continued, ‘I am going to give you the six strokes due to you.’ He tapped the jutting bottom and liked the way it flinched. ‘After that, I am going to give you another six for trying to seduce me!’

‘Oohh… no… oo!’ Sonia’s head came off the pillow and she swung round, breasts bouncing. ‘You couldn’t… oohhh… you couldn’t!’

‘We shall see about that, my girl,’ said William Clifford grimly. ‘The key of the door is in my pocket and I don’t care if it takes all afternoon to give them to you. But, believe me, you’re going to get them!’

With a despairing cry, Sonia buried her face back in the pillow. Now, she knew she had really lost. What was more, it was going to demand all, and more, of her mulish, Benson fortitude to take what was to come.

No… I haven’t lost, she told herself, as the cane tapped again. I’ve stuck to my principles! That’s what matters! It was brave… but it was foolish. Even as the first searing stroke blazed across her upthrust buttocks, Sonia felt her resolution beginning to ebb…

After five more like that, she was pleading and begging like all the rest. Yet there were six more still to come. There was no ‘Alternative.’