1986!

From Roué 6

Janet lounged wearily against the corridor wall outside the headmaster’s study, chewing rather furtively on a piece of gum which she knew she’d better not get caught eating during lesson time. Her head was tilted to one side as she leaned with her back flat against the wall, her feet spread-eagled a couple of feet from the skirting while she counted and recounted the bricks in the opposite wall. Slouched with her bottom against the wall and her legs jutting out at an angle, her thighs were bare for at least two-thirds of their length, not counting the slits at the sides of her skirt which were slashed so far up the side-seam that it seemed highly improbable that she could avoid showing her knickers. Indeed as she moved slightly, shifting the weight of her leaning more onto one buttock than the other, the tiniest edge of white revealed itself at the apex of one of the slits. This immodest display of her underwear bothered Janet not at all, and why should it. The combination of sixties miniskirt and seventies side-slits had become the very acme of schoolgirl fashion in the mid-eighties, and Janet would have rather been dead than out of fashion.

Her face had a rather bored expression on it, quite out of place for a girl who had been sent to the Headmaster with a note from her form-mistress clutched in one hand and with the prospect before her of an interview with the Principal which might not go too well. But Janet was bored. She had been there an awfully long time, at least half-an-hour, and if she hadn’t been missing a Maths lesson by staying put she’d have given up the vigil long ago.

Footsteps sounded around the angle of the corridor. Janet shoved herself upright and swallowed the last of her chewing gum, which was a pity as it turned out to be one of the sixth-formers.

‘Hi,’ said the newcomer, ‘What are you doing here?’

‘What d’you think, stupid?’ said Janet cockily, annoyed about her chewing gum.

‘Waiting for him, are you?’ said the other girl, nodding towards the study door.

‘Yes, actually,’ said Janet, slouching again.

‘Well you might have a long wait. They’re having a staff meeting.’

‘Staff meeting? Christ — they might be ages.’

‘Probably will,’ said the sixth-former walking off down the corridor.

‘Perhaps he won’t come back at all,’ called Janet.

‘Perhaps,’ answered the departing girl. ‘See you.’

‘Yes, see you.’

The girl swung jauntily off, bouncing up some steps two at a time so that her little skirt flicked up and flashed glimpses of her school pants to anyone who might be interested.

Janet stared down at her feet, thought about Maths, pulled a face and decided she’d rather stay where she was. Anyway, she’d probably be able to talk herself out of trouble as usual. And if that didn’t work — well, there was always the alternative. A couple of dozen illicit smacks on your knickers and a promise not to tell was a small price to pay for being let off detention. Yes, that was what she would do. She didn’t want to be kept in tonight — Wednesday was disco night, and if you didn’t get the early bus all the best fellers were gone by the time you got there. Janet resumed her brick-counting with a self-satisfied grin.

----//----

Upstairs in the staff common-room the meeting looked as though it might indeed go on all afternoon. George Filbey tried to bring a little order back into the proceedings.

‘Look, would it help if I read through the letter again?’

‘No,’ said Freddie, English and Geography.

‘Can’t do any harm,’ said Miss Fowler, and she looked rather shyly around the room as if seeking support.

‘I’ll read it,’ said George. He cleared his throat unnecessarily.

‘From Executive Committee, Education Authority, and it’s dated the nineteenth of October, 1986.’

‘That’s yesterday’ said someone. ‘The post must be getting better.’

‘Quite,’ said George, ‘but let us stick to the point, shall we?’

‘Dear Mr Filbey, regarding the much vexed question of the reintroduction of corporal punishment in schools, as per the recommendation of the Minister for Education, Commons speech —, well let’s skip that bit. It also refers to Working Party Report — Green Paper — White Paper —, we know all that don’t we?’

‘This Executive Committee finds itself in agreement with proposals put forward — dah-de-dah-de-dah — will sanction the immediate reintroduction of corporal punishment in all senior schools under its control.’

‘About time too,’ said Hazel.

It’s made her day, thought George, and he looked around the table wondering for the umpteenth time how many of them had been unable to resist the temptation to smack the odd bottom all along.

‘Anyway,’ said George, ‘Let’s deal with the bit that’s causing all the problems. Umm — ah, here it is — ‘dum-de-dee — such disciplinary measures as headmasters in consultation with senior members of staff consider appropriate.’

‘Give ‘em what they’ve been asking for,’ said Hazel. ‘That’s what that means!’

‘Well there’s still this other bit — I suppose we’d better refresh our memories — provided only that the still extant statutory requirement be observed; that should caning be resorted to, no more than six strokes shall be administered at any one time. The only other relevant part is this, — no guidelines presently proposed regarding methods, mode of dress etcetera; these matters being left to the discretion of senior staff for the present. Which puts the ball pretty squarely in our court, doesn’t it?’

‘More or less,’ said Henry, ‘So we’d better get something thrashed out.’

Even the young Miss Fowler had to smile at that one.

‘Well then, as I recall the two points under discussion were these, were they not: precisely who, of the senior staff, will be entitled to punish, and um, — what restrictions are to be observed regarding — ah — modes of dress?’

George felt the sweat trickling down his neck. It was getting a bit too much for him, all this talk of ‘punishment’ and ‘modes of dress’.

‘Mr Filbey,’ said Hazel, ‘may I make a proposal?’

‘Er — certainly,’ said George.

‘I propose that you, as the Headmaster, and that I, as your deputy, should take it upon ourselves to discharge these new obligations on behalf of the rest of the staff.’ She even tacked a smile on the end of it.

George wondered how the hell she knew.

Henry looked a bit fed up about it. ‘I trust such an arrangement would not preclude the odd swipe from the rest of us, Miss Harvey?’

‘No, I don’t think so,’ George said, trying to minimise any possible opposition before it cropped up. ‘I dare say Miss Harvey meant that — er — punishments of a more — um — authoritarian nature would be our pigeon, isn’t that so Hazel?’

‘Of course,’ said Hazel. She looked to be in some danger of bursting into a grin of a Cheshire cat. She certainly wasn’t going to make any waves if she could get what she wanted without it.

A show of hands was called for. It was agreed.

‘And now, what about ‘dress’? I presume by that they mean the possible lack of it. What do you think Hazel?’

‘Er — yes, I imagine that’s what they’re talking about. Personally I don’t see any reason why we shouldn’t let the remedy fit the circumstances.’

‘How d’you mean?’ asked George, getting even hotter under the collar.

‘Well, no restrictions have been placed upon us. Therefore I think that should it be considered necessary, the punishment ought to be administered on the bare backside, don’t you?’

‘Well —’ started George, only to be interrupted by the young Miss Fowler.

‘But — surely we’re talking about punishment on the hand, aren’t we Mr Filbey?’

‘Er —’ George found himself suddenly at a loss in the face of such innocence. Hazel galloped to the rescue. He could have kissed her. Well — almost.

‘Nonsense!’ she said. ‘The backside is the place for punishment. There is absolutely no doubt about that!’

‘Then you’re saying —?’

‘I’m saying take their pants down, and let’s have no quibbles on that point!’

And after that unequivocal statement, not a quibble was heard. Hands were raised again, and not even Miss Fowler dared dissent.

They all filed out of the room, only Hazel remaining. George found himself seeing his rather domineering deputy in a much rosier light. There was one point which was bothering him though.

‘Er, Hazel,’ he said ‘there’s just one thing. How do you see the apportioning of these duties. I mean —’

‘I shall take charge of the lower school, Mr Filbey. The rest will be your problem.’

George considered it. It was a sensible arrangement, but not what he’d wanted to talk about. ‘Er — yes, OK, but what I meant was — well, since we have both boys and girls here —’

‘Indeed we have, Mr Filbey. And if I may say so, I see no reason to differentiate between them. So far as I am concerned I shall punish them all alike, as no doubt you would also wish to do.’

‘Er — yes. Yes, quite. You mean should the occasion arise, — and I dare say it will — er, then you will have no objection to punishing boys, while I —’

‘While you, of course, will occasionally find it necessary to punish some of the girls, Mr Filbey. But I don’t think two people of our experience should be over-modest. We are both perfectly mature and level-headed people, Mr Filbey. I am sure that we shall cope, despite the novelty of the situation.’

Hazel departed briskly.

‘Bless you, Miss Harvey,’ said George under his breath.

----//----

Downstairs Janet was getting restless. Leaning with her back against the wall she bumped her bottom rhythmically against it. The resilience of her firm young buttocks bouncing her back off the bricks and making the splits in her skirt gape and narrow by turns as she rocked back and forth. The edge of her white knickers appeared a fraction more with each bounce, her skirt nudging a little higher as it snagged on the rough bricks and her feet slipped gradually further forward on the shiny tiles. To relieve the monotony another girl turned up. She watched Janet with wide, anxious eyes, clutching her own note in a damp palm.

‘Hi,’ said Janet at length.’ Got any chewing gum?’

‘Er — no. I’m sorry.’

‘Oh.’ Janet bounced slowly. ‘Come to see him, have you?’

‘Yes.’ The other girl seemed quite upset about it.

‘You new here?’ asked the oscillating Janet.

‘Yes.’

‘Don’t say much, do you?’

‘Um —’

‘You scared of Old Filbey?’

‘Well, a bit —’

‘Don’t worry about him,’ said Janet, as if she knew a thing or two. ‘Just smile at him, let him have a peep at your knickers, and promise you won’t be a bad girl again. Piece of cake.’ She bounced bumptiously against her bit of wall, pleased to have someone around to lord it over. After a while the nervous newcomer had to ask.

‘Um — excuse me, but what did you mean about — showing him my knickers?’

Janet, woman-of-the-world, pouted her lips sexily and pressed her young breasts towards each other, moving her hips sensuously in a lazy bump-and-grind.

‘Old Filbey is a dirty-old-man. Give him what he wants and you can get away with murder.’

‘Oh —’ The new girl stared incredulously at Janet’s lewd movements until she went back to bumping against the wall. She tried again.

‘Er — what does he want, d’you think?’

‘Sex.’ Whispered Janet. ‘He’s a sex-maniac.’ She made big, saucer eyes. ‘Girls have gone in there and never been seen again.’

‘Oh —’ Not sure she quite believed it, the new girl was half-convinced nevertheless. ‘Do — d’you — give him what he wants?’

‘Sometimes,’ said Janet archly. ‘If I’m in the mood.’ She looked dreamily up at the ceiling and cupped her hands provocatively under her breasts.

‘Um — are you in the mood today?’ asked the nervous new girl.

Janet dropped her hands to her sides and lowered her eyelids in a superior way. ‘No,’ she said loftily. ‘Today Filbey can do his worst, I shall not surrender my body to his lust. I am not in the mood this afternoon.’

The new girl’s face took on an expression of considerable concern. She hesitated for some time, but she had to say it.

‘Do his worst, you said. Wh-what’s his ‘worst’? Will he be very angry with you? I mean — isn’t it dangerous to let a man think you will — and th-then say you won’t?’

‘I don’t care what he does,’ said Janet. ‘He can beat me, threaten me — I shall not give in. I am simply not in the mood.’

‘Oh.’ Completely taken in, the new girl bit nervously at her lip and struggled against the threat of tears while Janet resumed her bouncing, humming snatches of a current pop song with her eyes closed. She didn’t hear the Headmaster come padding quietly along the corridor in his thick-soled, ‘catch-’em-with-their-pants-down’ shoes.

Mr Filbey caught the eye of the new girl, who blinked rapidly in fright, then looked in some amusement at Janet, who was still humming quietly to herself. Janet’s skirt had ridden up again, and from the side he could see the pale peep of her knickers below the rucked-up skirt at the back, the smoothly tanned satin of her thighs slipping up into the soft and plumping swell of her buttocks.

Normally he would have been fairly excited to have found Janet waiting outside his study, she being about the most daring little prick-teaser in the school. But now, today, he was excited in a different way, for today, with the unanimous decision of the senior staff behind him, he suddenly realised that his chance to pay the little tramp back for her embarrassing understanding of his weaknesses had finally come. It was an altogether more satisfying thrill which ran through him as he watched the tempting rhythm of her body bumping against the wall.

‘Janet!’

Janet’s eyes snapped open in surprise. She straightened up, bravado severely diminished by the shock of seeing the Headmaster there.

‘Yes sir?’ she said in a fluster. Mr Filbey looked her up and down.

‘I take it you’re waiting to see me.’

‘Oh — yes sir.’ Janet handed her note over. ‘From Miss Jones sir.’

Mr Filbey didn’t read it. He raised an eyebrow at the other girl, seeing the fright in her eyes as she too handed over her note.

‘Which of you was here first?’

‘Me, sir,’ said Janet, thinking that Maths was nearly over now and that break time was imminent, though it wouldn’t have bothered her to have pushed the other girl into the queue before her if it had suited her.

Mr Filbey opened the door and ushered Janet into his study. The other girl stared at him in something like horror as he closed the door. He wondered briefly what on earth was the matter with the girl, then went over to his desk and sat down.

Janet stood in front of him looking as if she had regained some of her composure, her hips tilting as she rested one leg against the other and the slightly seductive suggestion of a smile coming to her lips. Mr Filbey looked at her with more confidence than he could usually manage and then he picked up the note which he’d tossed onto the desk.

‘Please punish this girl —’ he read, ‘she is a disruptive influence on the class, and on the boys in particular.’ Well now Janet, what have you to say to that?’

Janet fluttered her eyelashes and looked with mock embarrassment down at her feet.

‘I — I think it might be true sir. About the boys I mean sir — they just don’t seem to be able to keep their eyes off me sir — or their hands,’ she added provocatively. She folded her hands demurely in front of her. ‘But I s’pose I can’t blame them sir. I mean, I’m quite pretty really, aren’t I sir.’ She sought his eyes, teasing him unashamedly.

Mr Filbey found himself becoming drawn into her scheme. He shook himself mentally and tried to stop leering at her.

‘Yes, you’re quite pretty Janet — and pretty good at egging people on. I don’t suppose you encourage the boys by any chance?’

Janet looked as innocent as it was possible for her to look, which wasn’t altogether convincing.

‘Oh no sir, I don’t do anything sir. They just sort of — well, can’t help it sir.’

She took the hem of her little skirt and twiddled it between her fingers as if disconcerted by such a suggestion. That the lifting of the hem disclosed the plump mound in the vee of her knickers to Mr Filbey’s eyes was certainly no accident. He was about to reprimand her for her shamelessness, but she was so coquettish in her pretended naivety that he hadn’t the heart. He settled back in his chair and reminded himself that now, with the letter from the Department of Education on file, the games which he had played with tantalising little tarts like Janet; and which they, of course, had played with him; were no longer necessary. His was now the right; theirs was now the duty simply to obey. That neither Janet nor any of the girls yet knew this, was only an added spice to the fun he was going to have henceforth. He breathed a sigh which might have been contentment but which Janet thought she recognised as her cue. The hem of her skirt rose an inch or two higher as she plucked apparently abstractedly at a loose thread.

‘Sir — I know I’ve got myself into trouble again —’

‘The second time this week,’ said Mr Filbey.

‘Yes sir, I know — but, couldn’t you let me off this time sir. I mean, I just can’t get detention tonight sir — I’ve got a date actually sir, and it would be dreadful if I was kept in and missed the bus to town tonight sir.’ She looked up from her thread-picking to see how her ploy was going down. Mr Filbey’s eyes on the apex of her thighs convinced her that she was doing pretty well. She smoothed her skirt down over her hips and gazed straight into his eyes as he looked up. He cleared his throat and let her think he was playing the old game.

‘I don’t think I can let you off exactly,’ he said. ‘But if you really don’t want a detention —’ he left it unsaid.

Janet licked her lips prettily and coaxed her Headmaster none to subtly along the path she had trapped him into treading a dozen times before.

‘Couldn’t — couldn’t you give me some other punishment sir?’ She lowered her eyes coyly. ‘I mean, like before sir. Couldn’t you just — just smack me sir? You know, sir —’

‘D’you think I should?’ encouraged the Headmaster. Janet edged her weight onto one leg so that her hips tilted and one thigh thrust saucily at the side-split of her skirt.

‘Well, I know it’s against the rules sir, but — well, so long as you don’t smack me too hard sir, who’s to know? I wouldn’t tell anyone sir, honest.’ She risked a little smile. ‘I never have before sir, have I?’

Mr Filbey had to smile at her nerve. ‘You’re incorrigible, you know that don’t you?’

Janet grinned impishly. ‘You’ve said that before sir,’ she said teasingly, and then without being asked she walked seductively round the desk and stood so that her bare thigh pressed against his hand on the arm of his chair. Her skin felt warm and vibrant as he stroked up the backs of her legs and cupped the weight of a buttock in his hand.

‘D’you think I really need smacking sir?’ she wheedled. ‘D’you think I ought to get across your knees now sir, so that you can smack me?’

‘Yes, I do,’ said Mr Filbey’s husky voice, his hand patting the plumpness of the girl’s snug knickers up under her skirt.

Janet eased herself down across his lap, her weight balancing across his legs and her legs straight-out with her toes on the floor. Even without lifting her skirt the tight stretchiness of her cotton pants across the round contours of her bum were charmingly displayed. He tucked the little skirt up fastidiously, while Janet squirmed her hips in a pretence of embarrassment. She played the game to the full, enjoying her exploitation of his obvious excitement.

‘Sir — please don’t smack me too hard, sir,’ she pleaded. ‘I haven’t been a really bad girl, sir —’

His hand plopped lightly onto the cheekiness of her bottom and she wriggled lewdly, egging him on. He began to spank her lightly, first one cheek and then the other, as he’d done a number of times before. Janet’s bottom trembled under the gentle smacking and she pressed her thighs together and rolled slightly from side to side, pretending it hurt just a bit. Little by little the bare parts of her cheeks pinkened in a soft and even glow, and here and there around the tops of her thighs little blushes appeared where spanks had ventured lower down. He spanked her perhaps thirty times, then he stopped, resting his hand on her tremulous bottom and patting its softness as if in thought.

‘You know miss,’ said Mr Filbey teasingly, ‘The day is going to come when I shan’t be able to resist taking these little knickers down.’ He slipped a finger under the elastic of one leg and slid it round the curve of her cheek.

Janet didn’t speak at first, then she said quietly, ‘Well, I s’pose there wouldn’t be much I could do about that, sir.’

Across her headmaster’s knees, her eyes focused on a patch of carpet, Janet had weighed the suggestion in her mind and had concluded that, if nothing else, it would be very useful to have that kind of a secret between her and Mr Filbey. She wasn’t too sure as yet just how it might be useful, but she’d think about that later, and anyway it was rather an exciting idea. She felt her knickers being slipped carefully down over her cheeks, the air chilly on the freshly-bared skin.

‘Lift up Janet, there’s a good girl.’

She eased her weight up off his legs and his fingers slipped under her tummy and pulled at her knickers so that they slid down and clung around her thighs. She sank down onto his lap again, and then realised that he had opened the drawer of the desk.

‘Now then my girl, just let me have your hand —’ Her right hand was pulled up behind her back, ‘— and now just let me rearrange you —’ A knee slipped out from under her belly and then she felt the roughness of his tweed trousers across the backs of her thighs. She began to feel rather helpless and she didn’t think she liked it very much.

‘Sir —?’

‘Yes, I know my dear. I know,’ said Mr Filbey’s sympathetic voice. ‘It’s all going to be rather a shock for you —’ something cold and springy patted her cheeks, ‘— but never mind, you’ll soon get used to it.’

The thick wooden ruler splatted teasingly against her bared bum-cheeks.

‘Sir —?’

The first solid spank took her completely unawares. Her bottom shivered under its impact and a hot smarting feeling spread fiercely across her bottom. She reared up and tried to kick her legs but found herself held firmly in place for the next stinging spank.

‘Oow —’

‘Now, now, try to keep still Janet —.’

Whack!!

Splatt!!

‘Ooh Christ! Oow, sir —’

Mr Filbey spanked her soundly, alternating spanks between her lovely, reddening cheeks which made her bounce frantically on his lap while she struggled to kick free, though without success. She yelled, bawled, and finally blubbered, her bum twitching and jerking in an irregular way, crimson spank-marks spreading most satisfactorily across her cheeks while Mr Filbey enjoyed this first-ever opportunity to give the seductive young Janet the spanking he’d always thought she deserved.

Outside the study, hand clasped to her mouth and eyes huge with fright, the new girl listened to the sounds of Janet’s spanking and shivered with dread. For five minutes or more she listened while Janet squealed, and then there was a minute or so while Janet’s crying was overlaid by the sound of the Headmaster’s voice. At last, red-eyed and clutching at her bottom, Janet emerged from the Headmaster’s study and scampered away down the corridor. The fluttering of her skirt flashed glimpses of knickers hastily dragged up and a bottom bright red with fresh spank-marks.

In his study Mr Filbey read the second note.

Please could I borrow your Second Series Geometry book it said, and was signed by Mr Miles.

The Headmaster went to the door, which was still ajar, and beckoned the waiting girl in while he sought through his bookcase. Turning round a minute or so later he was quite astounded to find the trembling girl standing in the middle of the room in just her blouse and knickers. She stared at him as if horrified, then managed to splutter,

‘P-p-please sir — d-don’t spank me sir — I’ll do it sir. I’ll do anything sir — I’m in the mood sir, really I am sir —!’

Shaken rigid by this incredible spectacle, Mr Filbey was still standing with his mouth open as the girl began to drag her school knickers clumsily down her thighs. The knickers having dropped to her ankles, she had begun to unbutton her blouse, little bra cupped under maturing breasts, when the Deputy Head Teacher, Hazel Harvey, knocked perfunctorily at the door and breezed in.

The Headmaster could only look at his deputy with blank confusion in his face, a look which Miss Harvey understandably mistook for the guilt of a man caught red-handed in some dubious deed. To her credit she took it absolutely in her stride. Raising an eyebrow she said ‘Sorry Headmaster — I didn’t realise we’d started already,’ gave him an encouraging wink and left at once, closing the door considerately behind her.

Talking the girl back into her clothes wasn’t so easy. Every few seconds she burst into a torrent of pleas that she didn’t mind — she’d do whatever he wanted — she didn’t want to get spanked but anything else would be perfectly alright sir —!

When at last he had managed to shush the girl out of his study the Headmaster was a nervous wreck. Janet. And now this new girl —

When Hazel came back an hour later he was still sitting at his desk, completely at a loss to understand what the girl had thought she was doing. Hazel’s visit steadied him a little. After several minutes he said absently: ‘You know Miss Harvey — I’ve got a feeling that this corporal punishment business has cropped up only just in time. This school is full of sex-maniacs!’

Miss Harvey smiled politely at that, but wondered why the Headmaster should suddenly have started referring to himself in such a deprecating way. And what would he say when he found out what she had in mind for the boys!