CHAPTER ONE

 

With a contented purr, young Belinda Spence sank down on to a couch. In her hands was the weekly 'consignment' from St. Justine's. Pupils' Reports and the video tapes of the week's activities. It was a moment Belinda always treasured.

Normally it was one she shared with her great-uncle Erik (or Nunky as she usually called him) but that week-end he was away on business. At least, so he said. Belinda could not have cared one way or the other ... especially as he had given her permission to look at the new tapes and study all Reports. Beyond that, he had said she could make recommendations on the Reports.

The sense of power which that gave Belinda was almost unbelievably thrilling.

It felt a warm afternoon, even though Erik Knudsen's villa was several thousand feet up in the Italian Alps. Green net curtains were drawn across a large picture window; two large overhead fans whirred softly. Belinda was virtually naked. Just a gossamer negligee of lemon-yellow hung around her ripe young body.

The girl felt remarkably randy. Partly that was due to the arrival of the 'consignment'... something which, these days, turned her on in a quite extraordinary fashion. it was a pity Erik wasn't there. Though he was in late middle-age, she still found him amazingly satisfying. As it was, she would have to make do with a vibrator.

Eagerly, Belinda opened the package containing the School Reports.

The weekly record of pain.

She went straight to the Reports for Grade II. Her step-sister Fiona's form.

Ahh ... there was Fiona's ...

Belinda read it avidly:

Name: FIONA VON BAL Age: 21 Class: II

 

COMMENTS AND CLASS PUNISHMENTS

Monday:

Untidy in appearance. THREE STROKES OF DOUBLE STRAP

Tuesday:

Three mistakes in French Prep. THREE STROKES OF DOUBLE STRAP

(Belinda noted now that Fiona had been at the School for several weeks, she rarely got the single-thonged strap. Either the double or triple was now used. Excellent!)

Wednesday:

Sixteenth in cross-country. (Handicapped). FOUR STROKES OF CROP

Thursday:

Too many mistakes in Arithmetic Test ... lack of effort, I am afraid. SIX STROKES OF DOUBLE STRAP.

In next session, too many mistakes in English Literature. Lack of effort again. SIX STROKES OF TRIPLE STRAP.

(Belinda experienced a twinge of pleasurable excitement. That should be worth watching on the video-tape!)

There were no entries against Friday. Then came a space for entries at the base of the Report.

HEADMISTRESS'S COMMENTS.

I am disturbed by this girl's behaviour on Thursday of this week. As you see, she twice displayed lack of effort (laziness, in other words) yet I caned her for this very fault some two weeks ago. The Governor's views would be welcome as to whether or not this pupil should be caned again.

Belinda felt an exquisite tingling on her nerves. Was she not 'acting Governor'? Was not the decision up to her?

Yes, of course it was!

With fingers that trembled slightly, Belinda took up a pen from a table alongside her. Then she wrote in the space provided for GOVERNOR'S COMMENTS:

 

My firm view is that this pupil should certainly be caned again. And, may I say, more severely than last time.

Signed: B.S.

P.P. Erik Knudsen.

 

It would be very nice, reflected Belinda, if Fiona could catch sight of the Report upon which she had made her personal recommendation. Oh yes ... very nice indeed!

With smug satisfaction, the vibrant, dark-haired girl settled down to study the remainder of the Reports. Maybe there would be some more canings she could recommend!

 

***

 

An hour later, Belinda was through.

It had not been a chore. Rather, a delightful pleasure. In the course of her deliberations, she had recommended two more canings. Madame Duerrisse, of course, did not have to follow such recommendations. But she usually did!

Now it was time for the week's tapes.

With an anticipatory glow, Belinda rose and went across to the projector and slotted in the first of half a dozen cassettes. Then she suddenly realised how thirsty she was and, going to a drinks trolley, found to her annoyance, that the ice-bucket was empty. Those damn Wop servants! Angrily she rang a bell.

It took a couple of minutes for a manservant to appear ... by then, Belinda was fuming.

"Don't imagine, just because the Master is away, you can get slack around here!" she bellowed at the young man who appeared. He was dark, sleek, sallow-skinned. She saw his eyes, half-startled, half-lusting upon her near nudity. it didn't worry her. To the contrary. She enjoyed taunting men.

"I ... I'm sorry, Miss ..." he stammered.

"Get some ice ... and be quick about it!"

"Yes ... Miss ... at once ... Miss .. ." The manservant hurried away. Belinda smiled to herself. The young man was quite handsome. She could not recall seeing him before. Perhaps ...

No. That wouldn't be fair to Nunky.

But would he really mind?

Probably not. He did just what he liked himself.

Belinda toyed with several ideas ... and found them all either amusing or exciting.

The manservant returned. He was obsequious. Ingratiating. All the same ... handsome and virile looking.

"Your ice, Miss," he said. The bucket clinked.

"What is your name?" demanded Belinda. Deliberately she stood legs astride, hands on hips, displaying her lovely young body. The young man, she saw, tried not to look too rapaciously upon it. But found that most difficult!

"A-Aldo ... Miss ..."

"Aldo, eh? and how old are you?"

"Twenty two, Miss ..."

"Ah ... and how long have you been here?"

"Just a just a week, Miss."

"That's why I haven't seen you. Well, Aldo, don't let me catch you being slack again, or I'll have to report you to your Master, Wouldn't like that, would you?"

"Oh no ... no ... Miss ..."

"Well, watch it. You may go now. But I might need you later."

"Th-Thank you, Miss ..."

The young man eased himself submissively out of the room ... mentally grovelling yet lusting at the same time.

Yes, thought Belinda, I may well need you later. A hot-blooded Italian lover would not come amiss after she had run through the tapes. Rather more exciting than the dildo she had originally planned!

She would see.

Yes ... she would see ...

 

***

 

Belinda sifted through the pile of cassettes until she came across the one she wished to see first ... Fiona's 'bad' day. The label read:

VT Number 2076

Class: Grade I

Thursday morning

The cassette was slipped into a projector and one whole wall of the room was filled with a picture of the label being repeated. Belinda settled herself comfortably on the sofa, tingling excitedly inside herself. Until she had started watching these tapes from St. Justine's, she had never realised just how much she could be turned on by such things. Previously she had been mildly interested in spanking and suchlike; now she had become a flagellationary addict ... sometimes being brought to the verge of orgasm without even touching herself.

Colour filled the screen. The opening shot was a close-up of the three straps which hung on the wall before the class above the Punishment or Strapping Stool, as it was alternatively known. Each strap, attached to a short wooden handle, was of rich brown leather which gleamed dully by reason of the oil which kept it supple. Each strap was 18" long and ¼" wide... the single thong being 2" wide, the double 2½" wide (and slit into two for its last six inches), the triple was 3" wide (and slit into three for its last 6".

These were the implements which stimulated a pupil at St. Justine's to make the maximum mental effort of which she was capable!

It must, thought Belinda, be exceedingly unpleasant to sit in that classroom with such an array constantly before one, knowing it was most likely you who were going to feel one or the other before long.

Most unpleasant!

The camera panned to Miss Hesther, whose red head was bowed over some exercise books she was marking.

Then to the class itself ... where twelve heads of a variety of shades were bowed over books. Here and there lips could be seen moving. Obviously they were having to learn some passage from a poem and doubtless would shortly be tested on it.

Belinda noted with interest that Fiona no longer occupied the desk directly before the Punishment Stool. She was in the one next to it, her former desk being taken by another pupil. A new one, of course.

Oh how petrified she looked! Trembling. Tears wet on her cheeks. She was a pretty thing, no more than seventeen or so, Italian-looking, with large brown eyes and black hair which hung in two pig-tails. She must have joined the class at the beginning of the week.

"Attention!"

Heads came up; all eyes wide and apprehensive.

"I have just marked the Arithmetic Test," said Miss Hesther. "Four girls have errors." A book slapped down on the desk. "Patricia ... come out here!"

A girl in the back row stood up. One of the more senior girls, she was tall and lissom, a most graceful young woman of twenty three. Her thighs looked extraordinarily long beneath the abbreviated skirt of her gym slip. Belinda was rather surprised to note that the girl was not wearing the customary black suspender belt and stockings but, instead, a pair of white calf-length stocking-socks. She could only assume Erik had issued some directive in this connection, as he was wont to do, from time to time.

There was, of course, no need to tell Patricia what to do. She went and knelt on the front ledge of the Punishment Stool. Miss Hesther stood up and took down the double strap.

"Knickers down," she said peremptorily.

Patricia pushed them down. Pale purple. The colour of 'The Knickers of the Day'. Up came the skirt. It was pinned to the collar of Patricia's blouse. She was very slim-waisted; with a delicate swell of the hips. Her buttock cheeks were rather long, as were her tapering thighs; the skin was ivory white.

A quick flash to the new girl who was looking on in horrified disbelief, biting her knuckles.

"One error, Patricia," announced Miss Hesther. "Three strokes."

It was the minimum punishment in class.

Silence. One could have heard the proverbial pin drop.

Then up went Miss Hesther's arm. Down it came in a wide,

sweeping arc.

THWACCKKK!

Both buttock cheeks getting the main brunt, the two six-inch thongs curling round the flank. A harsh intake of breath; a light brown head thrown back; those buttock cheeks squirming, now carrying a swathe of pink.

A pause.

Those buttocks tense. Quivering. Half twisting.

THWAACCCKKKK!

A little lower down those cheeks.

"Ahh ... hhhaaa ..." Not a cry but again a breathless gasp. Patricia was obviously experienced. All the same, that meaty leather made her squirm quite adequately.

Another pause.

A quick clench of the nates.

THWWAACCCKKK!

The final stroke of the three ... and lower still. Across the join of the buttock cheeks and the thigh-tops. a most sensitive spot.

"Hhhhaa ... ah ... a-ah ..." Still those breathless gasps. Patricia's bottom jerked back and forth, writhed left and right, as she absorbed the so-familiar burning pain. Familiar as it was, that never seemed to make it any the less painful!

All eyes were gazing at Patricia's pink-striped flesh. Everyone knew what she was feeling. Everyone also knew, except the new girl, that Patricia would be most thankful she had got only three.

Without comment, Miss Hesther replaced the strap and unclipped the hem of Patricia's skirt.

"Back to your place, girl," she said as she unfastened the wrists.

Patricia's hips wriggled almost seductively, it seemed, as she pulled up her tight little knickers. Then she stepped down and moved with her natural grace back to her desk. It was quite a struggle for her to get her legs under the desk-top. She was, Belinda noted, pale but dry-eyed.

"Melanie!"

A blonde girl in the second row got up and came out. She was much shorter and plumper than Patricia. Seventeen or eighteen, Belinda guessed. Puppy fat. Big breasts were straining through her see-through blouse; fat thighs wobbled. In silence the girl knelt.

"Knickers down!"

Down they went and up came the skirt. Belinda smiled. It was a most inviting young bottom. So rounded ... and so much of it!

Click went the wrist bracelets.

"Five errors ..." There was a gasp from somewhere. "Six strokes, Melanie. And, if you don't make some considerable improvement in this subject shortly, I shall send you for a caning. Understood?"

"Yes ... M-Miss ..." The soft bottom-flesh was quivering. Melanie looked up to see Miss Hesther taking down the triple strap ... and moaned.

Belinda found the punishment which followed quite enthralling. Throughout, Melanie's big bottom was a constant frenzied jelly of bouncing, juddering, quivering flesh as she swung and twisted frantically from side to side under the cruel, curling triple thongs.

But she was brave. Only breathless gasps for the first three. The last three, however, had her yelling uninhibitedly. Not surprising! for Miss Hesther deliberately laid them where the first three had fallen. It was a common ploy to break a girl who had rather more courage or greater powers of endurance than the average. The classroom was loud with Melanie's harsh sobs as she was released. No need for her to pull up her knickers. In her wild threshing, she had ripped them to pieces.

"Don't forget what I said about a caning, Melanie."

"Mmmf ... mmmmfff ... n-no ... M-Miss ... mmmfff ... mmfff ..." There was a loud gasp from Melanie as she resumed her seat. Again, everyone understood. The girl's big bottom would be a mass of flaming pain.

"Fiona!"

Belinda clasped her hands together as her step-sister stood up. Lips quivering. Teeth biting them. Knuckles white. Doubtless, as all of them did, she had hoped to escape. But she hadn't.

Up on the Punishment Stool. Kneeling. Blonde head drooping. A sob shaking the shoulders.

"Knickers down, girl!"

Down they went ... then those lovely naked hindquarters were exposed. There was little doubt, thought Belinda, that Fiona has one of the best figures in the school. Superbly proportioned. Fulsome without being too fulsome. But Belinda felt no jealousy. What was the point of having a superb figure in such a place?

You deserve everything, bitch, said Belinda to herself ... for trying to put me in that place!

Click! Now Fiona was helpless. Her shapely bottom would get whatever punishment Miss Hesther thought it deserved.

"Three errors, Fiona ..."

Ahh!

"Six strokes ..."

Belinda clapped her hands delightedly as she saw the double strap come down. She saw, too, the convulsive clenchings of dread made by Fiona's buttock cheeks as Miss Hesther took up her stance.

THWAACCKKKK!

Miss Hesther no longer employed the half sweep of her arm, as she had done during Fiona's first two weeks at St. Justine's. Now she went flat out.

"YYYYYAAAAA ... AA-AAGGHH ... AAGGH!"

No question of Fiona gasping as the leather flailed across her soft bottom. She yelled uncompromisingly with the awful pain of it. And she jerked, juddered and writhed in the same frenzied fashion that Melanie had done. Sometimes twisting half over. But it made no difference. Her helpless bottom was always quite adequately presented for Miss Hesther's attention. The Form Mistress had but to take a step forward or backward before laying a stroke across the fullness of Fiona's buttock cheeks.

The strokes were unhurried.

Fiona had plenty of time to yell and plead ... to twist and turn ... with nates contracting uncontrollably as she waited for the next swathe of fire to erupt across her flesh.

It was an enchanting spectacle.

At least, Belinda found it so. She was breathing fast, and there was a heat within her as Fiona, weeping, made her stumbling way back to her place. When she gets her next lot, Belinda told herself, I shall really have to do something about it. Six from the triple on top of what Fiona had already had would be no joke!

Finally, it was the turn of the new girl. Already weeping, she was called out. Only the direst threats made her kneel and take down her knickers.

"Two errors, Maria," said Miss Hesther. "Three strokes ..."

"No ... aaahhh ... no ... p-pleee ... eeease ..."

They were always the same at the beginning. Understandable of course. It was the single-thonged strap which came down. Maria was about to get the mildest punishment possible in St. Justine's!

Yet, from the fuss she made, one might have imagined she was getting what Fiona had just had!

Yes ... they were always the same at the beginning.