William Cyr: The Headmaster

"Erica Schmidt reporting for punishment, Mr. Hopkins!" The words came out slowly and with obvious effort, and it was readily apparent that the attractive teenager who uttered them was having great difficulty retaining her composure.

Seated behind his oversize walnut desk, the Headmaster of Marshall Girl's Academy did not at first look up from the report he was reading.

The office of the chief administrative executive of the exclusive girl's school located in the north of England was quite austere and not calculated to ease the anxiety of the miscreants who were regularly required to report there for discipline. At the moment, the only relief came from a partially opened window, through which drifted a warm breeze that served as a reminder that the spring of 1939 had been one of the most pleasant in years.

"Mr. Hopkins…" The girl's words trailed off in despair. The comely eighteen-year-old knew that the wait was deliberate, and designed to increase her apprehension as well as humiliate her. Her hands clutched nervously behind her back, she could barely stand still. Her dark blue eyes constantly darted around the room, anxiously searching for that whippy, pencil-thin cane that she dreaded so much. For some reason which she did not comprehend, the hateful instrument was nowhere in sight.

Normally, it was prominently on display.

At last, Mr. Hopkins set aside the report and looked up at the obviously troubled teenager who stood in front of him. A hasty glance satisfied him that she had complied with the academy rule that required all girls to report for punishment attired in their full school uniform. This consisted of white blouse, plaid tie, pleated black gym slip held in at the waist by a red sash tied at the wearer's left, black stockings, and three-inch spike heel black patent leather pumps with straps from behind the ankle tied in a bow in front.

The schoolgirl uniform did not conceal the fact that Erica possessed a highly promising figure, buxom and shapely. Her long blonde hair, tied in two pigtails, hung nearly to her waist in back, and the juvenile style required by school rules looked quite incongruous when compared with the obvious fullness of her plump breasts, which proudly pressed outward against the jumper of her gym slip. Enhanced by her black stockings and elegant footwear, her shapely legs and highly arched feet looked absolutely stunning. Her gym slip was hemmed to end a full six inches above her knees, because the archaic and absurd school rules were designed to make the girls feel juvenile and this was supposedly accomplished by requiring them to wear styles associated with young girls.

But as Erica and numerous other girls had discovered, the absurdly short gym slips could create effects quite unintended by their sponsors. For, as the girls had learned, some to their embarrassment and others to their intense delight, the combination of short skirts, black stocking tops and milk white thighs was completely mesmerizing to the masculine eye. By flashing her white thighs, contrasting vividly with her black stocking tops and garter belt, a girl could usually get exactly what she wanted from the opposite sex.

"So we meet again, Erica!" Mr. Hopkins finally spoke. The statement had its obvious implications, and their eyes met with understanding.

"Please, Frank…" Erica spoke hastily, using a form of address that no other girl in the school would have dared employ.

The Headmaster put up his hand in a manner that indicated that such familiarity was forbidden, at least at this stage of the proceedings.

Her face hotly flushed, Erica made no further attempt to speak and lowered her eyes demurely.

Frank picked up the registration form that contained Erica's vital statistics, and read parts of it aloud: "Erica Schmidt. Born 1921.

Native of Hamburg, Germany. Father, an importer currently working in Liverpool. Speaks English and French fluently."

With a shrug, he tossed the form back on his desk. "Let's face it, Erica," he said quietly. "With the state of the world being what it is, you'll go back to Germany this summer and that will be the last we'll see of each other. So this will probably be the last time you will report to me for punishment." He hesitated slightly before pronouncing the last word, as if it were not really adequate to describe what was to transpire between them.

"Please, Frank, couldn't we just skip the punishment part of it," Erica spoke with obvious distress. "Let me… You know what I like to do for you!"

The Headmaster feigned amused indifference to the young girl's statement. "That's surprising," he remarked with the slightest tinge of sarcasm in his voice. "Particularly considering the offense for which you have been sent here!"

Erica's face colored visibly at the reference to her misdeed. Frank reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a confidential and quite detailed report from one of the instructresses regarding a Lesbian incident involving Erica and another girl. The two of them had been caught in the ultimate Lesbian embrace, which the Victorian minded authoress of the report had described in highly critical terms but with what might appear to be an unnecessary attention to detail.

"Their knickers were completely removed," Frank read aloud from the report. "Their gym slips were rolled up above the waist. They were still wearing their garter belts and stockings. The two of them were simultaneously performing a contemptible act with their mouths and tongue, in a pose that is sometimes described as the French position.

Both of them were displaying a great deal of emotion."

Erica wriggled with girlish shame as the details of her misconduct were read out.

"Erica, I must say that I'm shocked to get this type of report about you, of all people," Frank remarked as he set the report down.

"I'm not a Lesbian," Erica defended herself heatedly. "And you know it!

It's just that… around here there aren't many boys, and a girl gets … gets itchy!"

"Yes, of course," Frank replied dryly. "Your fellow miscreant has already been punished," he added. "Six of the best!"

His mind flashed back to the incident, which had occurred only an hour before. Attired in a uniform that exactly matched the one that Erica was wearing, the hapless culprit had been obliged to bend over the back of a straight chair until her rounded bottom was higher than the rest of her body. Frank prepared her himself, slowly lifting the hem of her gym slip to reveal the enticing combination of black stocking tops, white thighs, black garter belt and lush feminine bottom encased in tightly stretched black panties. He pulled the panties down all the way to her ankles, catching a brief glimpse of bright pink cuntal lips as the miserable girl attempted to hold her legs as closely together as possible, and allowing his fingers to brush momentarily against the bows of her high-heeled shoes.

The six cuts of the cane had been applied with deliberate slowness, the highly flexible cane cracking like a twig snapping each time it made contact with her tender feminine buttocks. Although the first application of the cane had produced a loud gasp, the stouthearted girl had managed to bear the correction in a relatively stoic manner. Tears were streaming down her eyes, however, when Frank personally replaced her panties for her and allowed her to depart.

"Not the cane!" Erica pleaded, her knees buckling slightly at the thought of that dreaded instrument.

"But for an offense of this type" Frank began.

"Please!" Erica interrupted with great urgency. "Please! I'll do anything you like! You can degrade me any way you like! Please, but not the cane!" Her pretty face reflected the intense anxiety that she was experiencing.