How many more? And then what's he going to use on my poor bottom ?

Upper image from Rearwarmer,

Lower image, source unknown

None so blind

 

'There are none so blind as those who cannot see'. Or perhaps that should be 'foresee'. I guess I should have anticipated that the new Headmistress might have a sense of humour failure when I played up to the class by asking her whether she had graduated from a Blind School.

"What do  you mean?" she asked, frowning.

"Well, you carry a white cane, don't you? Like blind people do."

There was a titter from the class, but the HM was definitely not amused.

"See me in my study afterwards. I feel that you you might benefit from a closer acquaintance with that cane."

I blushed as everyone suddenly looked at me. No-one had been caned by the new Headmistress yet and now it looked ominously as though that privilege was going to fall to me. I squirmed uncomfortably in my seat. Jackie, sitting beside me, put her hand to her mouth.

"I bet you'll fidget more than that when you come out of her study!", she whispered. It wasn't helpful.

The new Headmistress is quite pretty really: she's young, and she wears short skirts. She's also a mean hand with that cane, as I found out. It's made of glass fibre and boy, does it hurt! She gave me a lecture about respect for disadvantaged people, which made me feel bad, but not half as bad as when she told me to take my knickers down and bend over her desk. She rolled up my skirt and then she started laying them on. It seems that no-one has told her that the usual tariff is six strokes, so when I started to get up and rub my bum after six absolute corkers, she told me in a very severe voice to get back down as she hadn't finished yet! Then she delivered another six.

Let me tell anyone who's reading this: the new Headmistress canes hard. As in H.A.R.D. Avoid that white cane is my advice, or you won't be able to sit down for a week.

But that wasn't the end of it. She made me take a note home telling my parents that they ought to instil better manners in me. My dad blew his lid: he's kind of politically correct and he didn't see the funny side of my remarks either. The next thing I knew, I was over his knee. He doesn't need a cane: a lifetime in the building industry has given him hands which are hard as steel.

By the time he'd finished, he had one very sore and contrite daughter. No more jokes from me about white canes.

 

 

Next illustrated story here

If you enjoy these short stories, try Tom Simple's full-length Bexhill School books here or his spanking/adventure/romance here