School Discipline
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It was so unfair! It didn't matter what Winona did, it could never be 
right. And she tried so hard. But whatever she did was judged to be 
wrong. Her parents thought so. Her teachers thought so. Her 
headmistress thought so. Her fellow school pupils all agreed. And her 
bum always had to suffer as a result. 
      It was a rare day that Winona didn't get a spanking. And 
usually not just a spanking, but also a caning or a paddling. And every 
night when she went to bed, her arse was red, often raw and on 
occasion striped by welts from the teachers' or the headmistress' cane. 
It was rare that Winona could sleep comfortably on her back. And 
usually there was a further spanking, usually with a hair-brush, 
administered before going to bed, after her mother had inspected the 
proof etched on her arse of her naughtiness, tardiness, slovenliness, 
inattentiveness and inability to gain good grades,. And sometimes on 
occasion, her mother would slide a brush handle into Winona's anus to 
encourage her to further reflect on the error of her ways.
      Of course, Winona was far from the only girl at school to be 
treated so sternly. Discipline was taken very seriously at St. Charity's 
Church School for Girls. From the moment of coming to school in the 
morning, where a girl might be disciplined for late arrival, to the time 
of departure, a pupil could expect chastisement for the infringement of 
any one of the many codes of conduct enforced by the school. This 
was a school where standards of good behaviour were set at a very 
high level. The most likely cause for punishment was to contravene the 
school's strict dress code. The skirt had to be the right length: not too 
short and not too long. The hair had to be regulation length and plaited 
in the required style. There was no licence for colourful ribbons, short 
socks, gaudy buckles, immodesty, scruffiness or bad posture. 
Punctuality was rigorously enforced. Poor performance was also 
sufficient cause for punishment. And woe betide a girl who chatted in 
class, showed insufficient respect to teachers and other staff, who 
behaved during school hours in a way that reflected poorly on the 
school's reputation, or contravened any of the more important school 
regulations for which a dozen of the best was quite simply not good 
enough.
      Punishment, however dealt, was administered publicly and 
harshly according to the degree of severity. And every day those 
reprobates whose behaviour most warranted it-generally the three or 
four whose sins were deemed most worthy of punishment-received 
additional public chastisement from the headmistress' cane at 
assembly in front of the entire school. And to protect the school 
uniforms, especially the knickers, it was mandatory that the 
punishment was administered on the pupil's bare bottom which would 
bear witness of any other punishment received earlier that week or 
during the weekend.
      It was impossible for a schoolgirl to conceal the evidence of 
her punishment. During the calling of the register, each girl was 
required to turn her back to the wall with the dress hitched up and the 
knickers pulled down. And when her name was called out, the girl 
would not only acknowledge her name when called by the teacher but 
give an account of the punishments she'd received since last time 
she'd answered the register. The teacher could easily determine from 
the redness, rawness and the number of raised welts across the 
buttocks whether the pupil was telling the truth. Frequently the teacher 
would add a couple of extra slaps of her own to the bums of those 
pupils who'd shown themselves deserving of punishment, which 
would cause especial pain for those who'd already suffered the most. 
      This was how Winona could be sure that the pain and 
humiliation she suffered at school and at home was shared by almost 
all the other girls in her class and, given that there was nothing 
exceptional about her class, by all pupils at St. Charity's. It might 
perhaps be true that Winona had more welts and bruises than most 
other girls and it wasn't simply because she had more tender skin. She 
was so careless in her appearance, so often late to class, so often 
tempted by small acts of mischief and, worst of all, plainly not one of 
the most academically gifted in her class. But there were other girls 
whose arses betrayed that they'd also been subject to treatment just as 
severe, just as there were some girls who miraculously managed to 
escape any punishment at all. These star pupils excelled at sport, shone 
at study, were prim and proper in their appearance, were never tempted 
to misbehave in any way, and were never less than punctual. And of all 
these pupils the one who excelled the most was Chrysanthemum 
White.
      She was a pupil who every morning when she tugged down her 
knickers and pulled up her skirt revealed a bottom wholly untarnished 
by punishment. Chrysanthemum's bum was white, perfectly formed, 
unscarred and unblemished. In short, it was the envy of every other 
girl, especially the ones who knew only too well the perpetual 
discomfort of trying to sit on the hard wooden seats with a bum that 
never had time to heal from one spanking or caning to the next. 
      Just what was the secret of Chrysanthemum's success? How 
did she manage to navigate each day's worth of possible rule 
infringements that tripped up the more unwary such as Winona? 
      Of course, those who most often caught the attention of the 
teachers most assiduously seeking out a pupil to admonish and thereby 
maintain a deserved reputation for uncompromising strictness were 
most likely to be those girls for which there was prior form. And in 
this regard, Winona was a pupil with a long and persistent record for 
misconduct and misbehaviour, whereas Chrysanthemum had no such 
history of any kind whatsoever.
      It was on a Thursday and after a particularly punishing 
Wednesday that Winona was once again summoned up onto the school 
stage to be one of those the headmistress had chosen to make an 
example of. Her name was announced by the Senior Prefect for Form 
6A for having repeatedly and without sufficient remorse offended 
against several approved rules of good conduct. 
      "It is inconceivable," Jenny Carruthers said portentously, "that 
Winona Churchill should ever set a good example to others unless her 
bad behaviour is firmly addressed."
      Winona had dreaded this for so long. It had been several weeks 
now since her last public chastisement at assembly in front of the 
entire school. And it was so unfair! She'd been late for school on the 
Wednesday as a result of a caning on the Tuesday. She'd got little 
sleep as a result of the stinging pain across her buttocks that her father 
had made no better by the additional vigorous application of his 
slipper. And the rest of the day got no better. After a brisk spanking by 
Miss Vangotha for lateness, she received another during bottom 
inspection for allowing a sock to slip down to her ankle. She was 
assured that this spanking which left her bottom red, hot and stinging 
was administered for her own good. Mrs Pitcher insisted that in some 
mysterious way the punishment that continued for nearly ten minutes 
hurt her more than it hurt Winona; which seemed entirely unlikely. It 
wasn't Mrs Pitcher's bum that was now blushing red and radiating 
enough heat to poach an egg, 
      Winona's misery mounted as Wednesday continued. She was 
caned by the Deputy Headmistress for being in the corridor when she 
should have been in class: a crime that earned her the standard dozen 
of the best (made a baker's dozen by Winona's neglect to say "Thank 
you" between the tenth and eleventh stroke). This sin was the result of 
her spending longer than she should have in the lavatory following her 
earlier spanking. Then Winona earned a brisk two-minute spanking 
from Mrs Balham for restlessness in class as she wriggled around on 
her seat to avoid putting pressure on her swelling welts. There was also 
a very peremptory half-dozen strokes of the cane that Miss Smith 
administered in Physical Education for Winona's slowness and lack of 
attention.
      And finally, when it seemed that no more punishment could be 
possible, Winona was dealt another dozen strokes of the cane on her 
injured buttocks by the headmistress for having gained less than 60% 
on the weekly Latin comprehension test along with five other similarly 
challenged students. 
      "I do hope this is the last lesson you will need to learn on this 
matter," said the headmistress on that occasion, although as became 
apparent the following day this was quite clearly not going to be the 
case. 
      It didn't come as a total shock to Winona for her to be singled 
out for punishment at the school assembly, even though she'd made 
every effort to ensure that she didn't arrive late that morning. In fact 
she'd arrived some fifteen minutes early. And this was despite a very 
severe beating from her mother the night before in which the over-used 
hair-brush broke and a new one had to be found to continue the 
beating.
      "It doesn't surprise me at all to see you in this position once 
again," said the headmistress to Winona as she roughly tugged her 
knickers down, hoisted her skirt up and stood her in front of the trestle 
that had been set up on the school stage. "You will say 'Thank you 
Miss' after each of the next dozen strokes of my cane. If at any time 
you neglect to do so, I shall commence again from the beginning. Do 
you understand me, Miss Churchill?"
      "Yes, Miss," said Winona not sufficiently audibly.
      "Excuse me, Miss Churchill. What did you say?"
      "Yes, Miss," said Winona somewhat louder and bolder.
      "And do you understand why you must be punished?"
      "Yes Miss."
      "Tell the assembly the reasons, Miss Churchill. And please 
speak loudly."
      Winona turned around to look at the other pupils ahead of her: 
hundreds of school-girls who felt both sympathy for her plight and fear 
that they might find themselves in the same situation. Her skirt at the 
front covered her crotch though from behind it was hiked up and her 
welted black and blue arse faced the headmistress and the senior staff 
behind. In a line beside her were three other girls also waiting to be 
punished: their hands clasped behind their necks, skirts up, knickers 
half-way between the knees and thighs, and bare arses on display.
      "I have been late to school. I have been careless in my 
appearance. I was lax at P. E. I should have been more attentive to my 
teachers."
      "And...?" said the headmistress.
      "Yes Miss?" Winona asked.
      "Your Latin marks," the headmistress reminded her.
      "I failed to achieve the required marks in Latin 
Comprehension."
      "Very good, Miss Churchill," said the headmistress. "Please 
assume the position."
      "Yes, Miss," said Winona obediently as she bent over the 
trestle, her arse in all its bruised ugliness on full display to all the other 
pupils.
      "I hope you will learn by this lesson never to misbehave 
again," said the headmistress as she lovingly stroked Winona's 
battered bottom. 
      And then followed stroke after stroke for an unbearable twenty-
five strokes in all brought about by Winona neglecting to say 'Thank 
you' between the tenth and eleventh strokes in the first administration 
and between the fourth and fifth strokes in the second. When it had at 
last come to an end, she said a final "Thank you" to the headmistress 
and presented the cane to the next reprobate pupil. She returned to her 
place at the back of the school stage and silently sobbed as waves of 
pain from her ravaged arse pulsed through her body. She knew from 
experience that these welts would last for many more days and that 
there would be a distinct imprint in her flesh that would ensure that 
this most certainly would be something that she'd remember for a very 
long time.
      "If only you girls would learn your lesson then this wouldn't be 
necessary," said the headmistress in a manner that suggested she truly 
regretted having to administer such strict correction. Winona wasn't so 
sure about this. It often seemed to her that the headmistress, like so 
many other teachers, took rather more pleasure than was strictly 
necessary from dealing out such chastisement. And she wondered (as 
she so often did) whether the punishment wasn't several times more 
severe than the supposed crime.
      And as always, Winona envied most those girls like 
Chrysanthemum whose bottoms remained forever spotless. 
      And it was later that day in column with the rest of her class 
that she marched together silently side-by-side with Chrysanthemum 
on the way to the school playing fields for a game of hockey, each girl 
dressed identically and carrying a hockey stick. Just as they were very 
nearly through the padlocked gate, the teacher, Miss Jacobson, who 
was known for being somewhat scatty, stopped in her tracks and 
appeared quite distressed.
      "My goodness!" she said in alarm. "I've forgotten the key to 
the playing field." She addressed the Senior Prefect. "Please keep the 
girls in order, Miss Carruthers, while I return to school to fetch the 
keys."
      "Excuse me, Miss," asked Amanda, who was Miss Jacobson's 
favourite pupil. "Are we allowed to talk to one another in your 
absence?"
      "Talk to each other?" wondered a flustered Miss Jacobson, 
who was no doubt concerned whether her forgetfulness might earn her 
a fine from the headmistress (usually administered as a voluntary 
donation to a charity). "I don't see why not. But only to the girl 
standing next to you and only in whispers. We don't want the general 
public to hear you gossiping."
      And with that, Miss Jacobson rushed off, while Jenny 
Carruthers, as was her character, ensured that any conversation 
between the waiting girls was no louder than a whisper despite there 
being no member of the general public anywhere in sight.
      "So, Winona, how are you feeling after your punishment?" 
Chrysanthemum asked in a kindly solicitous voice. "I hope it's doesn't 
hurt too much."
      Winona was startled to be addressed. She and Chrysanthemum 
had never spoken before. "It stings but it'll get better," she said, 
speaking with the wisdom of experience.
      "It must be terrible for you to be caned so often," said 
Chrysanthemum.
      "It hurts so much!" Winona admitted.
      "Do you always cry when you're beaten?"
      "I try not to, but I can't help it. Especially when my bottom is 
already sore."
      "I feel so sorry for you," said Chrysanthemum.
      Winona snivelled. "I wish I were like you," she confessed.
      Chrysanthemum seemed quite startled. "Why do you say that?"
      "You never get punished."
      "That's because I don't break any of the rules."
      "And your bottom is never spanked, caned or paddled," said 
Winona. "I wish mine was as pure and welt-free. You bum isn't even 
blush red like you get from a spanking."
      "My parents have never spanked me," said Chrysanthemum. "I 
suppose they've never had cause to."
      "I wish I had a bottom like yours."
      "You are fascinated by bottoms," remarked Chrysanthemum 
with a strange smile on her face.
      Winona nodded. Although it had never crossed her mind 
before, Chrysanthemum was right. But who wouldn't be when her 
bottom had been spanked and beaten so many times. It wasn't her fault 
that her life had become so much bottom-fixated. 
      "Would you like to see my bottom?" asked Chrysanthemum.
      This was a strange remark, but perhaps not so peculiar given 
that after a caning or a spanking, Winona had often compared bottoms 
with other girls who'd been punished. And the bottoms she'd sniffed, 
stroked and kissed were black and blue, sometimes red and welted, 
with signs of earlier beating being overlaid by the fresh scars of more 
recent punishment. It was comforting in a way to be able to compare 
her own bottom with those of her fellows. It made her feel that she was 
part of a community who shared equally in the injustice of an overly 
strict regime of corporal punishment where the only licence seemed to 
be in the teachers' imagination in identifying instances of misconduct.
      But she had never seen close before a bottom as pristinely pure 
as Chrysanthemum's, so without really thinking Winona nodded her 
head again.
      "Tomorrow lunchtime at a quarter to one in the girls' toilets on 
the top floor of Block 25," said Chrysanthemum as if this were the 
most natural thing in the world. "Don't be late."
      And after that Chrysanthemum turned her face away from 
Winona's and looked straight ahead, while Miss Jacobson scurried 
back from the school with the key to the playing field padlock.
      Winona wondered all afternoon and the following morning 
about what this rendezvous in the toilets with Chrysanthemum might 
mean. What she hoped above all was that Chrysanthemum was in a 
curious way reaching out to her. It was Winona's opportunity to make 
friends with a girl who never got punished. And she hoped that by 
doing so, she might in some way learn those habits by which she could 
avoid being spanked or caned. Perhaps she would even learn how to 
study more productively and assiduously. Wouldn't it be wonderful if 
she too could average 90% in Latin Comprehension? Wouldn't it make 
her parents proud of her if her school report was speckled with the 
letters A and A+, rather than C, C+ and D? Then no more hair-brush 
spanking. No more visits to the headmistress' study. No more caning 
in front of the entire school assembly.
      And after a while, her bottom would lose that disfigured, 
blotchy appearance that made her feel so mortified during the daily 
bottom inspection and she would have a bottom as smooth and pretty 
as Chrysanthemum's. But so distracted was she by thoughts of her 
rendezvous with the star pupil that she earned three slaps on the palm 
of each hand during Poetry Appreciation and six slaps on the bottom 
from Sister Wendy during Religious Studies. But at least that was 
better than two dozen strokes of the cane in front of the whole school.
      And so, despite her unarticulated reservations about keeping 
the appointment and inculcated into punctuality as all pupils at St 
Chastity's were, Winona arrived at exactly 12:45 at the girls' toilets 
that Chrysanthemum had specified. She gingerly pushed open the door 
to see whether there was any other girl there. It was unlikely, of 
course. Chrysanthemum had chosen the toilets well. Even though they 
were open to all girls, they were only ever used by those who ever had 
a need to be on the top floor of Block 25 which was mostly reserved 
for unpopular subjects like Mechanics and Geometry. 
      "Hello!" said Winona nervously. "Is there anyone here?"
      "Are you by yourself?" Chrysanthemum asked. She was inside 
one of the toilet cubicles to which there was of course no door as such 
privacy only encouraged sinful habits and naughtiness.
      "Yes," said Winona as she strode over to the cubicle. 
      Chrysanthemum was sitting on the toilet seat in a prim and 
proper manner with her hands clasped over the lap of her skirt.
      "So you want to see my bottom," she said in a matter-of-fact 
way.
      "Erm..." said Winona for which this was by no means the only 
reason she wanted to meet Chrysanthemum. In fact it was the least of 
her reasons. What she most wanted was to become more closely 
acquainted with her fellow pupil. She'd already fantasised about being 
able to visit Chrysanthemum at home and to meet her mother and 
father. Wouldn't it be something to meet parents who didn't regularly 
spank their daughter? And perhaps, if all went well, she and 
Chrysanthemum could study together and perhaps even be privileged a 
sleep-over. And her ambition was that soon she would be one of those 
girls whose backside was a good example to all during the regular 
morning bottom inspection.
      "Well, here it is," said Chrysanthemum, as she stood up, turned 
around, hitched up her skirt and pulled down her knickers. 
      And what a bottom it was too. White, pale, unmarked, firm and 
tempting.
      "Do you want to kiss it?" asked Chrysanthemum.
      "Can I?"
      "It's what you want, isn't it?"
      "Yes," said Winona hesitantly, still not really believing in what 
was happening.
      She knelt down behind Chrysanthemum in the cubicle with the 
pristine bottom in front of her. It smelt just as pure and unsullied as it 
appeared to be. There was a small wobble in the buttocks that was 
delicious to her eyes and so tempting for her lips. So very different 
from the bottoms she'd seen before at such close quarters. And even if 
her friends' bottoms hadn't been the victim of so much maltreatment, 
they would never have had the perfect proportions of 
Chrysanthemum's bum.
      Winona put her nose to the proffered cheeks and skimmed it 
over the barely visible hairs of the cheeks and between them. And this 
being what was so clearly expected of her, she tenderly pressed her 
lips to first one and then the other cheek.
      "Your bottom is so beautiful!" Winona exclaimed.
      "Which won't be the case with yours, young lady," said the 
stern voice behind her of the deputy headmistress. 
      Winona stood up abruptly, while Chrysanthemum in no hurry 
and with no sign of alarm pulled up her knickers and smoothed down 
her skirt.
      "Miss," said Winona automatically.
      "I was told that you were misbehaving in this disgusting 
manner, Miss Churchill," said the deputy headmistress. "And now 
thanks to Miss White, we know for sure. I hope this shameless show of 
depravity has not harmed you in any way, Miss White?"
      "It has been a very painful experience for me," 
Chrysanthemum admitted.
      "Not as painful as it will be for Miss Churchill here," said the 
deputy headmistress as she grabbed Winona by the ear to drag her to 
the headmistress' study.
      And as a weeping, humiliated Winona was pulled along, 
suffering the jeers of her fellow pupils, she knew for sure that for as 
long as she remained a pupil at St Charity's she would never have a 
bottom as pure, pristine and pretty as did Chrysanthemum.