The Small Back Room

From Blushes 20

‘Schafer… she’s the toughest one in the whole school. Even though she may not look it.’

‘I take your word for it, Head…’

‘She’s given endless trouble. Some of it rather subtle. Also, she certainly does not like academic work. Cheeky and rebellious when confronted with her faults.’ The Head shook his grizzled locks. ‘In the end, the Committee decided there was only one thing for it. The Small Back Room.’

Schafer nodded and smiled faintly. And briefly. ‘Age?’ he enquired.

‘That’s the problem. Why we had to act. She’s coming up to 18 now. Soon we’d have no more control.’

‘Quite so, Head,’ nodded Schafer. ‘And you have all the necessary agreements. And dispensations?’

‘Oh naturally. We wouldn’t proceed without them. In confidence, I should tell you that this course of action has been urged upon us. It is positively approved.’ The Head nodded with something like satisfaction. ‘Sometimes they truly understand,’ he said. ‘In this case it is not parents but a Guardian. Very influential, I understand. You are at liberty to proceed.’

‘Thank you, Head,’ Schafer looked momentarily solemn. ‘I shall do what I think is necessary,’ he said. ‘Correct past faults. Try and ensure a considerable improvement in future behaviour. I shall do no more than is necessary.’

‘Good… good…’ Again the grizzled head nodded. ‘We all know we can rely on you. To get results, I mean.’

‘Thank you, Head. Would you say the girl is arrogant?’

‘Mmm… yes… to some extent. More likely, I would say she is stubborn. Resents authority…’

‘Aaahh…’ Schafer drew in a deep breath. ‘That is a fault most deservedly which needs to be overcome.’ He smiled briefly again. ‘Her name?’

‘She is known as Mena. A contraction of Philomena. Her education will be in your charge for the next seven days. At the end of that time, we will assess results… and report accordingly. The Guardian will be fully informed.’

Schafer nodded with satisfaction. Everything seemed to have been well set up. Now it only remained for him to carry out his job. It was not one which was exactly displeasing to him. Often he had wondered why the Head did not carry out such duties personally. Perhaps he preferred to live vicariously. Perhaps he was frightened he might go too far. There was no question of that in Schafer’s case.

He was always fully in control.

----//----

Her brown hair was fastened in a pony-tail by a pale blue ribbon. She wore the conventional school uniform of white blouse and red tie, dark blue gymslip, calf-length white socks and low-heeled black patent shoes. Her demeanour was solemn as she stood in the Small Back Room. Quite alone. Waiting in trepidation. She had heard of the Room. There were whispers about the place, but never fully confirmed. Now she was there. Perhaps she deserved to be, she had to admit, because of late, her behaviour had been rather outrageous. Deliberately so. How she loathed the place! Still, it wouldn’t be long now. Soon it would be time for her to leave… and, in a free world, she could defy her Guardian. But not yet. Still she had to admit and endure to a ridiculous regime and the horrors of unnecessary discipline.

She must try and be patient. It would not be long now. Five bleak years had passed and soon the sun would be rising. Meanwhile, she had been consigned to that secret place. The one which was whispered about. Mena knew instinctively it had been done in order to break her rebellious spirit. She determined they would not succeed.

Nevertheless, she knew that would not be easy. In any event, her sheer isolation frightened her.

When, at long last, he finally came into the Room, his appearance startled her. He was so casually dressed; shirt, sweater and slacks, like a games’ master off duty. Mena had been expecting far more formality. In a way, it encouraged her. The man looked human and susceptible to persuasion; of one sort or another.

‘Be seated, Mena.’ His voice was relaxed, yet firm. She sat on the small wooden chair in front of the small wooden desk. Most uncomfortable. It made her feel more like 7 than 17. Almost 18. ‘You know why you are here?’

‘I…I think so…’

‘You address me as ‘sir’, Mena. It is because you have contravened the School Codes, defied our Rules. In short, you have become beyond control. Persuasion has been tried, to no avail. Now you have arrived at the ultimate in the school, where correction takes the place of persuasion. Perhaps you have heard of the Small Back Room?’

‘S-something… sir. But I did not quite understand. Believe it, either.’

‘It is, however, a reality,’ said Schafer. He liked the look of this girl. Not simply physically; she had obvious strength and character. Attributes which had led her into trouble. ‘This short, sharp course has been agreed by all concerned. Those in charge of your welfare believe it will be beneficial to you. You may not agree, but I am sure you will benefit in the long run. Do you understand a little of what I am saying?’

‘Not… n-not much sir…’

‘Basically, I am telling you, Mena, that, for the next seven days you will be working under strict disciplinary conditions. During this time, you will not just be simply rebuked for failures, you will be punished for them. Physically punished. Not to put too fine a point on it, you will be spanked.’ He paused. ‘Or caned.’ He saw the girl shudder convulsively. It was the normal first reaction. The dark brown eyes widened fearfully. The whispers of possibility which she had heard were becoming a loud chant of reality. It could not have been pleasant for her.

‘It is not right that you should do this to me.’ Her voice had a clear, bell-like tone. She showed little fear, though she must have felt it. Schafer felt a grudging admiration. This was his favourite type. He had dealt with a few like this before.

‘You are not of an age to judge what is right or wrong,’ he said. ‘You are in an age of learning to conform and behave. It may be against your nature, nevertheless you have to submit to it.’ Dark eyes looked at him sullenly. The Head had said she was stubborn; he could see it in those eyes. ‘Your lessons will be similar; it is the discipline which will be different. Rebellion will only make matters worse, Mena. Remember that.’ He saw her look even more sullen.

And inwardly rejoiced.

----//----

Within the hour, Mena was getting her first caning.

Schafer had intended to start with a spanking if there was any backsliding as far as lessons were concerned, but Mena’s maths paper was so atrocious it left him little option. Frankly, he was of the opinion that the girl had deliberately not tried. Was defying him. That, in the Small Back Room, a girl did not do — and get away with it.

‘You can behave — take your punishment, that is — or not behave, Mena,’ he stated. Always best to be firm at the outset. ‘In any event, you will get it. But, of course, if you misbehave, you will find it more unpleasant. You understand me?’

‘Yes… I understand you, sir.’ Sulky. ‘I’ll behave.’ Defiant. Well, the girl would learn. Schafer liked her attitude. Her spirit.

‘Good,’ he almost sighed. ‘Well then, Mena, you will kneel on this chair and bend over your desk. You will raise your skirt; then I shall give you six strokes of the cane.’ He saw her flinch once more. ‘I may tell you, girl, that six strokes is the minimum I give.’ He had decided, at this stage, he would allow the girl to retain her knickers. Bare bottoms would come later. He noted she looked surprisingly calm and resolute as she mounted the chair, knelt, then bent over her small school desk. He pulled up the gym slip high, around her waist, to expose a sexy little pair of briefs. White with red polka-dot spots. He had the feeling they contravened school regulations, but said nothing. Mena said nothing either; she was quite extraordinarily complaisant, torso flat down on the desk. Perhaps breathing a little faster. He sensed her defiance; sensed her almost challenging him. Well, she was that kind of girl. That was why she had been sent to the Small Back Room.

Schafer picked up the cane. It was hook-handled, of average weight. Even average could be most painful if seriously applied. He intended to go fairly easily at this early stage. If the girl did not start conforming — and improving — she would soon know what a really sound caning felt like!

‘I should hold on to the desk legs,’ advised Schafer. She did so. ‘I don’t want any interference with this caning. It could well add to it.’ She said nothing but he could hear her breathing faster. Has she ever been punished before, he wondered. He had to admit she was showing remarkable composure. Nicely rounded bottom. He looked forward to the time when he would have those knickers down. Still, one thing at a time.

Shafer laid on a good hard cut. Nothing excessive, but hard enough to hurt a lot. All he got was a taut gasp and a swift shimmying of that well-made, young bottom. He was impressed. Not only defiant, but tough.

The second. No harder. He was going to play this one straight down the middle. Not going to break her too early. No point in that; especially when you’d got a stubborn one. Again she gasped; again that bottom reacted quite enchantingly. Perhaps I ought to have had those knickers down after all, thought Schafer. Ah well, later.

Number three cracked down with a delicious sound. The gasp was louder; more high-pitched. He sensed her determination not to cry out. Not to give way. Not to submit. Ah well, all in good time. He loved them when they were like this. Determined to be defiant. The point was, they could be. But only to a certain extent. No girl could withstand the treatment he was in a position to mete out. Not in the end. It was that ultimate power that Schafer enjoyed; meanwhile he was in no hurry to use it. All he wanted to do was watch her striving to resist him. Oh so bravely!

Number four had her squirming almost off the desk; whinnying between clenched teeth. Ah yes… that one had been a little harder. But it had not, by any means, broken the girl’s resolution. Excellent. She was already proving most worthy material.

Ssswwwweeeeppppttttt! Number five covered both buttock cheeks and curled around one flank. It was a cane both long and whippy. The whinny of pain was higher… oh yes, definitely higher. The girl was having to fight. She had a lot of spirit. No doubt about that.

Deliberately, Schafer did not lay on the sixth any harder… which is quite customary, with many, when the last stroke is being applied. If anything, he was slightly gentler. In a way, it was a compliment to the girl’s fortitude.

‘You may get off the chair, Mena,’ he said, ‘and we will proceed with your lessons.’ He noted that the girl was not crying, though her eyes were moist. Nor was she sobbing though she was breathing rather fast. His admiration increased. So did his anticipation of the pleasures of the week to come. ‘Sit down, Mena.’

The girl sat back at her desk. Carefully. Another gasp came, but no more. A look of resolution and defiance remained. She thinks she is winning, reflected Schafer. Poor sweet thing; she has a lot to learn. No one, ultimately, could defy the Small Back Room. That was why it was there.

‘Are you ready to concentrate your mind on German translation?’ He was stern and uncompromising.

‘It… ahhh… it’s not my b-best subject… sir…’ came a quavering answer.

‘All the more reason for proceeding with it,’ said Schafer, with a sudden, lopsided twist to his mouth.

Deliberately, Schafer set a pretty severe test… then left the room for half an hour. There was little doubt further chastisement would be required, for he had heard from the Head the girl had not been concentrating her mind on her work for months.

When he returned, it was at once evident his surmise had been correct. The translation was only half done and there were many errors. ‘Disgraceful work for a girl of your age,’ he said severely. ‘No wonder you were sent to me here. It is obvious you have been slacking abominably.’

She was beginning to look apprehensive. Wondering how much more of the cane she could stand, he thought. But, in fact, he was not going to cane her. She was going to have the humiliation of her having to take her knickers down to have that already sore bottom well smacked. ‘It… it’s not one of my good subjects, sir,’ she said lamely.

‘Which one is, I wonder,’ he half sneered. He seated himself on top of the desk. ‘Come here,’ he ordered.

She came apprehensively… and he quickly hauled her across his thighs. ‘O-ohh… n-no-ooo… please!’ she cried, realising what was going to happen. It was the first time she had faltered and that, he well understood as he tugged down her briefs, was on account of the immodesty of what was happening. ‘No… no!’ How tightly she pressed her thighs together!

‘Since you do the work of a 12-year-old,’ said Schafer, ‘I shall treat you like one.’ Then he began to smack the girl’s tenderised bottom. Hard!

She yelled and kicked, twisted and turned, bottom bouncing up and down as one stinging slap after another descended. Yet always she managed to keep thighs well pressed together. It was surprising, he thought, she was making more fuss about this spanking than she had done about the caning. She did more than gasp and whinny. She yelped with pain. Mind you, he was really walloping her, crashing his palm down over where the weals were thickest. Yes… no doubt she was truly feeling it!

After some thirty slaps, Schafer desisted. It had been a sound spanking; the kind he usually gave. He could never see any point in administering a dozen or so slaps. They didn’t start hurting properly until after that first dozen. And the third dozen really hurt. He pushed her off and she stood snivelling by the desk.

‘Now, Mena,’ he said, wagging an admonitory finger, ‘you are going to do that exercise again. And do it a lot better!’

‘Mmmmff… mmff…’ she sobbed, head bowed. ‘But… I’m no g-good at it… sir…’

‘Too bad,’ said Schafer. Again he left the room. Though she had said she was no good at it, he reckoned that, this time, she’d make a far better fist of it.

Half an hour later, Schafer was again proved right. The work was not only not finished, but there were fewer errors too. A considerable improvement, even if not top quality work. He nodded with satisfaction. Proof once again, he said to himself, of how a tender behind can be a potent stimulus to effort. Justification yet again for using the Small Back Room.

There was, however, something which was not in order. ‘Did I tell you to pull your knickers up, Mena?’ he asked.

‘N-no… sir… I just thought…’ she began.

‘In this Room,’ he said, ‘a girl does not pull up her knickers till she is told to do so. Take them down again!’

‘Oh… sir!’ So plaintive. She was flushing.

‘Come along… do as I say!’ Hesitantly, the little briefs were pushed down again. It was a piece of humiliating discipline Schafer often employed. ‘Now we can proceed, Mena. Go to the blackboard and take a piece of chalk. You are going to have a Spelling Examination.’ He picked up the cane and showed it to her, seeing her flinch. The thought of that on an even more tender bottom must have been most unpleasant. ‘I shall be standing behind you with this in my hand,’ he said. ‘Every time you make a mistake, I shall lay it across your bare backside.’

She gasped, eyes widening. ‘E-every t-time?’ She looked terrified.

‘Every time. It’s the surest way I know of making a girl concentrate. And that, Mena, is something you have not been doing lately. Right, turn and face the blackboard.’ What a lovely colour that bottom was, he thought. Rosy all over from his slaps and decorated with horizontal stripes of a deeper hue.

First word is derogatory…’ She got it right. ‘Second word is parallel…’ The girl paused before starting. Halfway through the word her nates contracted apprehensively. Was she right or wrong? Schafer smiled faintly. She was wrong. As so many of them did, she put one L in the middle and two at the end. He gave her a wristy cut. Not too hard, but not too gentle. She squealed and dropped the chalk. Her earlier fortitude seemed to have deserted her. Defying him was losing its importance; whereas avoiding pain was gaining. He nodded in satisfaction. It was another of the lessons a girl learned in that Room. ‘Third word is punctuate…’ She got it right. And the next word. Then the next. That freshly raised stripe was obviously doing some good work in her brain cells! The sixth word, by no means easy, earned Mena a second cut. Gasping out breathlessly, she squirmed almost to her knees, but did not drop the chalk.

Unhurriedly, Schafer gave her twenty four words to spell out, gradually making them more and more difficult. In all the girl earned herself eight cuts of the cane and, towards the end, her nates were constantly contracting and quivering with dread and she was sobbing incessantly.

It had been a severe lesson, but typical of those given in the Small Back Room. At the end of it, Schafer gave the girl a good lecturing about her future work and behaviour. ‘Remember, you are going to be here for a whole week.’ That produced a flood of tears. ‘Now, he said, ‘you can stay here for another hour… and think about all that has happened. And how hard you are going to try and be a much better girl in future. Got it?’ She nodded and he thought he caught sight of just a touch of sulkiness again. Ah well, perhaps she wasn’t quite defeated yet. So much the better! Schafer turned to go. ‘Oh, by the way,’ he said casually, ‘keep your knickers down where they are…’ Then he turned and left, locking the door behind him.