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   Chapter Five

   Study Morning

   At 9 a.m.  sharp, Edward Morley, already smoking his third Capstan
cigarette of the day, turned into the corridor leading to his office.  He
was not a so-called 'morning person' so it would be fair to describe his
mood at this hour as being somewhat less then ebullient.  His bushy
eyebrows bunched over a deep frown and his sizable whiskers did much to
hide the thin, compressed line of his lips and quivering heavy jowls. 
Hands clasped behind his back, large head thrust forward of his wide
shoulders, he strode purposefully towards the start of what, he knew, would
probably be yet another long day.  To prepare for this drudgery, for
breakfast earlier, he'd spoiled himself by having an extra egg and rasher
of bacon with his toast washed down by two cups of Earl Grey tea instead of
his usual one.  Food rationing being what it was these days, he couldn't -
and didn't - treat himself often.  Now and again, though, he saw no harm in
a little self-indulgence.  After all, what was the point of being in charge
of this vast Victorian edifice known as Berkley House if one couldn't
permit oneself the odd luxury or two?  Lost in thought, it was a moment or
two before he realised there was a queue outside his office door.

   "Oh Lord," he mumbled beneath his breath, "surely not this early."

   He immediately recognised the straight back and buxom hips of the
headmistress, Mrs.  Bertram, who, arms folded across her ample bosom, stood
towering over four of the new girls like an annoyed mother hen.  The girl's
were silent, each one dressed in uniform grey skirt and cardigan over a
white blouse, heads bowed as if studying their black-buckled shoes with an
intensely focused interest one could never have hoped to extract from them
in the classroom during a History or English lesson.  Of course, Morley
thought, remembering, casting an appraising eye over the row of
nervous-looking girls, these were the delightful little creatures making a
mess in the bathrooms last evening.  He'd almost forgotten about them. 
Maybe the day held more promise than he'd at first thought.

   "Good morning to you, Mrs.  Bertram," Morley huffed, belligerently,
keeping his observations cursory, not wishing to exhibit anything other
than a passing interest in her waiting charges.  "What brings you here at
such an inconsiderate hour?"

   "Good morning, sir," Mrs.  Bertram said, her tone formal, somewhat
abrupt and business-like.  "I have brought my charges here as requested,
Mr. Morley.  You did say 9 a.m., sir."

   "Nine-o-clock?" Morley nodded, slowly rubbing his chin with a ham of a
fist, and puffing out a large cloud of aromatic cigarette smoke that hung
in the still air like a London pea-souper.  "That's correct, Mrs.  Bertram.
Thank you for being on time."

   There was a startling clarity, a certain challenging defiance, in Mrs.
Bertram's green-eyed gaze, and Morley liked that.  She had an air of
quality, of distinction about her and was indeed a handsome woman.  With
her soldier husband abroad these past five months involved in the war,
Hitler, the Nazi advances across Europe and such like, she must be feeling
more than a little lonely, more than a touch neglected, these dark and
dismal days.  Well, he could definitely put that to rights without much
trouble.  He would bet the entire contents of his stables that the
newly-married wench was gagging for some expert TLC during the long, lonely
nights of enforced abstinence and separation and would be a right royal
mount once she got going.  He would certainly like to get in her knickers,
at least once, and was determined to make a staunch effort to that end in
the not too distant future.  Patience was the key word.  Patience and
confidence.  It was all a question of timing, of catching her at precisely
the right moment.

   "Shall I escort them into your office, sir?"

   "Er, Yes.  Please do, Mrs.  Bertram.  Please do."

   Morley unlocked the door, threw it wide and, standing aside, ushered the
gathering inside.  He followed behind them, taking the opportunity to sniff
deeply the discreet scent of something summery that Mrs.  Bertram wore, the
pleasant aroma stirring sensuous thoughts, making already warm blood
distinctly warmer.  Being winter, the cavernous room was gloomy, the
furnishings austere and dreary.  The one redeeming feature amidst such a
colourless void was a blazing coal fire the caretaker had prepared earlier.


   "I assume you know why I have summoned these children here this morning,
Mrs.  Bertram?" Morley extinguished his cigarette in a large glass ashtray
on his desk.  "They were making quite a mess during ablutions last evening.
By pure chance, I happened along and caught them red-handed.  I was not
best pleased by what I witnessed."

   "Yes, sir.  So I understand." Mrs.  Bertram turned her icy gaze on the
assembled girls who, almost as one, guiltily turned their own gazes back to
the floor and their shoes.

   "It is my intention to enlighten them as to the error of their ways,"
Morley said, his voice reverberating around the silent room, carrying
within its low timbre the full weight of his authority.  "I know you have
other, more urgent, matters demanding your attention, Mrs.  Bertram, so I
suggest if I deal with the younger two quickly, you can take them with you.
The older two, of course, need to learn a degree of responsibility
befitting of their age which, as I'm sure you'll appreciate, is going to
take me a lot longer.  Wait if you wish.  I have no objections to you
remaining in attendance, but I must stress your class is, at present,
without supervision."

   "Yes, sir.  I agree with you entirely," Mrs.  Bertram nodded.  Her dark
hair shone in the firelight and Morley imagined it freed from the strict
confines of the tight bun, flowing in thick raven waves over her delectable
shoulders.  God, she was a delicious morsel to be sure.

   "I'll wait for Rebecca and Sara.  Christine and Daisy May can follow on
when you have finished with them.  They know where they are expected to
be."

   "Good," Morley nodded.  "Excellent.  Rebecca and Sara, please step
forwards."

   The two smallest girls, both about eight years-old and of similar
physical build - pleasingly chubby, to Morley - reluctantly did as
requested.  Mrs.  Bertram and Morley, grim of face, stared down at them.

   "So," Morley began.  "You girl's think it's highly amusing making a mess
of our bathrooms do you?  Rebecca?  Answer first."

   The girl did not look up but, remaining silent, had the fixed, vacant
expression of one resigned to her fate.  Her bottom lip quivered and her
hair draped her pale cheeks like a fine honey-coloured waterfall.

   "Well - what have you to say for yourself?"

   "Answer the Master!" Mrs.  Bertram said, her eyes flashing reflected
firelight.

   "I'm very sorry, sir." young Rebecca sniffed and began to cry, her small
shoulders shuddering.

   Far from amused, Mrs.  Bertram tutted.  "Stop that nonsense this minute,
Rebecca."

   "Obviously, the child has nothing of real remorse to say, Mrs. 
Bertram," Morley said, disdainfully.  He liked the way the headmistress
exerted her authority, wondered briefly how she would react as one of the
disciplined.  That would be most interesting and maybe something to find
out in due course.  Aware of the need to deal with the girls quickly,
Morley was short on patience and did not labour the effort of extracting an
explanation from either Sara or Rebecca.  Instead, he went to a glass
cabinet to the left of the window, opened it and removed a thin, bamboo
cane about three feet long.  He went back to Rebecca.

   "Right, young lady.  I want you to bend over the arm of my chair.  Do it
now, please."

   Rebecca raised big, tear-filled blue eyes to her tormentor.  Cheeks
flushed, she made to speak, but, unable to find more words, she bit her
bottom lip and swallowed back the tide of inner turmoil threatening at any
moment to overwhelm her.



   Morley pointed with the cane.  "Over the arm of the chair.  Quickly now
or, by God, you won't sit down for a week and that's a promise!"

   Meekly, sobbing freely, the trembling girl did as she was told.

   "Raise her skirt and take her knickers down please, Mrs.  Bertram."

   With a glint in his steely eyes, Morley watched eagerly as the mistress
carried out his instructions with meticulous precision.  She firmly pushed
Rebecca over the arm of the chair, raised her skirt high above the waist
and tugged the white knickers down into a tight band around the child's
shaking knees.  Most impressive, he thought, most impressive.

   "Make her bend lower," Morley said, enjoying himself now.  "I want her
buttocks higher."

   Mrs.  Bertram didn't hesitate, but roughly handled the girl's small
frame into the required position, bent from the waist low over the padded
armchair, legs straight, pale buttocks and plump little sex protruding, the
flesh invitingly curving, rounded, and taut.

   Morley drank in the sight of the girl's clean, thick-lipped slit and
bare bottom with sheer, unadulterated relish.  He felt the lusty urge to
kneel and lick it all, everything from clit to rosebud and back again. 
Blood surged to his loins, his thick cock stirring.  It was as much as he
could do to control his ever threatening erection, an event Mrs.  Bertram
would no doubt deem somewhat inappropriate and offensive at this particular
moment in time.  Or would she?

   "That's good, Mrs.  Bertram.  Thank you."

   With that, Morley stepped forward and, barely raising his arm, landed
the first stroke of the cane across the small, raised bottom with a
resounding crack.

   Rebecca yelled as the pain exloded through her quivering body.

   The other girls all began to weep, noisily and profusely.

   "Stop it," Mrs.  Bertram ordered.  "I want complete silence from all of
you or the worse your punishment will be.  Silence now!"

   Once more, the bamboo whistled through the air like an angry wasp.  The
contact sounded like a gunshot as it kissed the girl's taut, pale derrier
with a barb of instant fire.

   This second precise stroke was swiftly administered and with similar
results to the first, except this time, Rebecca screamed at the top of her
little lungs.  It was a good thing her tearstreaked face was buried in the
deep chair cushion or the whole population of the school would have heard
it - if not the entire county!  She wriggled her rounded bottom most
delightfully as the stinging welts marked the creamy, unblemished flesh. 
Morley was, of course, in heaven - or as near to it as it was possible to
get during this earthly existence.  The girl's cries were music to his
jaded ears and seeing the heat sear its course through her jiggling,
spasmodic limbs was like watching an exquisitly well-choreographed ballet.
Yes, it was a tiresome job sometimes, but then, it was his sworn duty and
had to be done as expeditiously as possible.  If it wasn't for him, then
some other poor soul would have to endure.  Why pass the buck?

   "I think four strokes should do it," Morley said, glancing at the three
other cowering little beauties.  "What do you think, Mrs.  Bertram?"

   "Y-yes.  Four...  sir," Mrs.  Bertram sounded hesitant, confused.  It
was indeed a rare thing to be asked her humble opinion by the headmaster.
She rather liked the feeling the novelty gave her.

   Morley cast an appraising glance at the mistress and could have sworn
her cheeks were flushed with, what was it...  pleasure?  Yes, he'd seen
such a response often enough to recognise it for what it really was: Mrs.
Bertram was definitely getting a little hot under her high collar.  She
was, without a shadow of doubt, turned on by the scene being enacted before
her!

   Morley thought he'd have a little fun with her.  Looking directly at the
woman, he said, "Do you think I can land the next stroke right...here, Mrs.
Bertram?"

   He placed the cane gently and deliberately across Rebecca's writhing
young bottom so it rested dead centre between the two angry, red welts he'd
already raised.



   "Mmm..." Mrs.  Bertram appeared lost for words.  Blushing deeply now,
she looked at Morley and blinked once or twice.  Then, eyes bright, she
licked her full, slightly-gaping lips and quickly swallowed.

   "Em, I would s-say...  well, y-yes.  Yes, you can, sir."

   Yet again, the cane whistled through the tense air and landed with as
satisfying a 'crack!' as any Morley had heard in his long tenure as
headmaster of Berkley.  Lord.  Sometimes, just like that, out of the blue,
the day can reveal to the unsuspecting a moment of atonishingly true,
utterly intense, perfection.  It almost made him feel undeserving - almost.


   Rebecca wriggled her red-streaked little bottom, squealed dementedly
into the chair cushion, a protracted, muffled, agonised wail that spoke of
nothing but extreme pain.

   "My word, Mrs.  Bertram, I am so accurate, don't you think?"

   "Oh, yes, sir," Mrs.  Bertram replied, seemingly slightly short of
breath.  Her eyes were riveted on the quivering, bared flesh of Rebecca's
bottom.  "So very accurate, sir."

   "One more should do it," Morley said, grinning confidently at the
feisty, but flustered, Mrs.  Bertram.



   She nodded, slowly.  "Oh...  Yes indeed, sir...  One more."

   Crack!

   Rebecca screamed mortifyingly and repeatedly stomped her little feet,
her hands involuntarily reaching around to the red-streaked hemispheres of
her tight, pert bottom.

   "Ok, you can pull her knickers up now, Mrs.  Bertram."

   The mistress bent eagerly to the task, chiding, almost yelling, at the
distressed Rebecca to cease her confounded noise and erratic pain-driven
contortions as she roughly manoeuvred the child to a standing position and
tugged her knickers into place.

   With keen interest Morley noted how Mrs.  Bertram used deft, intimate
touches to smooth the knickers to snugness around the prominent bulge of
the girl's mons and sore bottom cheeks.  Oh yes, he thought, this woman was
certainly full of secretive needs and appeared to have even murkier, more
wanton, depths than he'd ever suspected.  How interesting, and how
potentially very useful to know.  Life is so full of tantalizing little
surprises.

   Mrs.  Bertram straightened and, arm outthrust, pointed.  "Apologise to
the Master, Rebecca, then go and stand over by the door.  Dry your eyes and
wipe your nose, too."

   She turned to the remaining child.  "Sara, come here.  Bend over the
chair as Rebecca did."

   "Oh, Miss...  I don't want to, Miss...  Please, I'm...scared!" Sara
wailed, trembling with fear and apprehension.  "Please, Miss...No, don't
let him beat me!  PLEASE!"

   "Do as you are told young lady and do it now!" Mrs.  Bertram grabbed the
small, fair-haired child by one of her thin arms and dragged her to the
armchair.

   "Bend over.  Do it or I shall forcibly hold you down."

   Grinning, Morley watched Mrs.  Bertram bully the child into quiet
submission, raise her skirt and tug the tiny white knickers to her
trembling knees.  He caught a glimpse of the youngster's perfect, chubby,
unfledged sex, and felt his cock twitch in anticipation.  He glanced at the
two older girls, especially the blond one, Daisy May.  She was the tallest;
lithe, coltish, already showing slight signs of ripening womanhood.  God,
he thought, so charming, so exquisite.  He couldn't wait to get at her,
couldn't wait to administer to the furtherance of her education.

   "...ready, sir."

   "Mmm?  Sorry.  What?" Morley blinked, snapping from his reverie, his
attention brought urgently back to the minute, to the undeniably pleasant
task at hand.

   "I said young Sara is ready for her punishment, sir."

   Mrs.  Bertram frowned slightly, her cheeks flushing a deeper hue of
pink. She had one hand pressed down onto the ineffectively struggling
child's back, holding her firmly in position over the arm of the big old
chair, her bottom and sex raised to a most advantageous position.

   "That's very good, Mrs.  Bertram.  Hold her like that." Morley moved
closer, his large frame towering over the mistress.  He stared directly
into her bright gaze whilst at the same time deliberately and slowly
flexing the cane in his large hands.  The atmosphere in the room was tense
and, by the second, becoming more charged, more volatile like the air
before an electric storm.  He smiled, dreamily.  "Four again, Mrs. 
Bertram?"

   Mrs.  Bertram swallowed.  "Yes, I think so, sir," she quietly replied,
her eyes dropping shyly to the writhing girl, roaming over the creamy
curves of her raised bottom.  "I - I think four is very fitting."

   CRACK!

   Mrs.  Bertram flinched as the cane made resounding contact with the
firm, quivering flesh of the little girls bottom.  The conflagration
consumed in an instant.

   It was Sara's turn to scream and scream she did.

   Completely unaffected by the pained cries, wonderfully at ease with his
position in life and the world around him, Morley laid another stroke
immediately beside the first.  "Isn't it fascinating how her little botty
responds to the kiss of bamboo, Mrs.  Bertram?  Look at the incandescence."


   Confounded and not a little embarrassed, Mrs.  Bertram averted her face
from the searching look the headmaster gave her.  She was unsure of how she
was expected to respond to such a question.  Could he tell of her
excitement; the unexpected butterflies in her stomach; the warm dampness
between her thighs?  God, she fervently hoped not.  She would, in such a
case, be bound to resign her position as Mistress and, in these desperate
times, there was absolutely no way she could afford to do that.  Feeling
the pressure, the chaos of emotion, building inside her, she made a valient
attempt to maintain her composure.

   "Don't be shy, Mrs.  Bertram," Morley said, apparently not noticing how
flustered she was becoming.  "It's really quite all right.  Touch it.  Go
on.  Feel the heat of the flesh under your palm."



   "But...  Sir - I...  I don't think I..."

   "Don't be silly, woman.  Look."

   Morley palmed the writhing child's bare bottom, his hand so large it
practically encompassed both rounded globes entirely.  He intimately
caressed the cane-polished skin, the soft, yet, taut flesh, occasionally
allowing his index finger to trail lazily down the deep divide and over the
plump, bare sex.

   "See?  Nothing to it.  A delight to be savoured by those who appreciate
the finer things in life.  Go on.  Touch it.  I order you."

   Hesitantly, tentatively, Mrs.  Bertram reached forward.

   Morley removed his hand and allowed the mistress to replace it with her
own.  He watched her long trembling fingers tenderly brush the red welts.

   "You have to realise," he said, his mouth close to her ear, voice almost
a whisper, "they need this.  They belong to us, Mrs.  Bertram.  We own
them. You and I.  Lock, stock and barrel.  They do what we tell them to do.
In the never ending quest to teach them right from wrong; to instil in them
the historic values and honourable traditions of our nation; to educate and
help them differentiate between the bounderies of pleasure and pain, of
what should and should not be, we can do with them what we will.  Sometimes
duty calls for more; sacrifices to be made and we have to overcome our own
inhibitions, our weaknesses and shortcomings; our moral bondage and shame,
for the sake of these children.  God willing, we will survive these dark
days, but - While there's more than a fair chance we won't, we must make
the most of our allotted time here.  Discipline is imperative, yes, but
then, we must also drink at the pool of exotic pleasures as deeply and as
often as we can.  We owe it to the children and to each other."

   As he spoke, Morley had no idea whether he was making any sense or not,
nor did he care.  All he was interested in was keeping the woman distracted
enough that she continued to do what she was doing.  He avidly watched Mrs.
Bertram's hand caressing the tight, pale little rump ever more quickly, her
fingers lingering in the crease, intimately prying and prodding with
tentative touches.  Once or twice she trailed her fingertip lightly along
the girl's cunt cleft from the barely discernable clitoris to the neat
little pucker of her anus.  The girl whimpered, but had ceased yelling.

   "Feel how hot the skin is, Mrs.  Bertram?  Feel it?  That, my dear, is
another lesson learned."

   The mistress suddenly started and snatched her hand away.

   "Oh, dear.  Oh, my goodness.  Sir, I am so sorry.  I don't know what
came over me.  I...I..."

   "Relax, Mrs.  Bertram.  It's fine.  Fine." Morley held out the cane to
her.  "Two strokes left, I believe.  Would you like to administer?"

   Mrs.  Bertram stared at the offered cane like a rabbit transfixed in a
bright light.

   "Go ahead," Morley smiled.  "I know you want to.  Don't worry.  What
goes on in this study will remain in this study.  Between us.  A private
affair.  Wholly confidential."

   "Sir, I...I don't know if I..."

   "Yes, my dear, you can.  You liked touching her didn't you?  Give
yourself a treat.  Two strokes, Mrs.  Bertram."

   The mistress raised moist, wide eyes to her headmaster's.  Her full lips
were slightly slack, her breathing rushed.  Morley held her gaze for a long
moment.

   "Take it," he said, grinning broadly.  "I'll assist you."

   It was at this point little Sara whined.  "Miss, I need the toilet,
miss. Badly."

   "Quiet, girl!" Morley boomed, angrily.  Both the child and Mrs.  Bertram
jumped, the mistress clutching her hands together under her breasts, the
tension in the air dissipating somewhat.

   "Relax, Mrs.  Bertram.  Take the cane and administer.  I order you.  I
would consider it impertinent if you refused."

   How could she refuse this imperious man, this mountain of a man, who
ruled his domain with such detailed completeness; a princely thoroughness,
like no other she'd ever known?  Did she really want to refuse?  As if in a
trance, the mistress reached out and, almost without realizing it, took the
cane in her elegant hand.

   "Good," Morley smiled, once more calm, affable.  "I'll hold her in
position for you."

   Morley reached down, spread Sara's legs wider and cupped his hand fully
over her smooth, fat-lipped quim, his fingers reaching almost to her belly.
Without effort, he raised her bottom higher bringing the cute globes into
tighter relief.  "There, Mrs.  Bertram.  No finer target could you hope to
find anywhere.  Strike true and strike well."

   Wide-eyed with disbelief that this was really happening, a loose lock of
hair dangling across her slightly perspiring brow, Mrs.  Bertram stared at
the erotic offering before her.  She licked her lips, her pink tongue
rapidly flicking back and forth.  She raised the cane, hesitated a moment,
then swished it down across the taut bare cheeks.

   Crack!

   Sara yelled, clenching her buttocks with pain, her reflexes pushing her
little cunt into Morley's palm.  He gently squeezed her soft mound, but
continued to hold her in her elevated position.

   "That was delicious, Mrs.  Bertram.  Couldn't have done better myself.
Lovely.  One more."

   The mistress did not hesitate so long this time.  The cane swished down
with a satisfying crack onto the bare wriggling bottom.  Sara screamed. 
The shock of the last cut causing her to lose control of her bladder.  She
began to pee over the palm and fingers cupping her sex.

   "Ooh," she wailed.  "I can't stop it.  I can't!  I'm sorry...I'm sooo
sorry!"

   Morley gently caressed her puffy cunt as the warm pee streamed through
his fingers.  "That's all right, Sara," he assured her.  "Let it go.  Let
it go."

   Mrs.  Bertram shuddered.  She suddenly became aware of the other three
girls all watching the unfolding events with a mixture of horror and
flushed excitement.  In particular, Christine and Daisy May were especially
disturbed; Christine freely crying, and Daisy May unconsciously moving from
one foot to the other, a bunched handkerchief being feverishly worked in
her fluttering hands.

   Mrs.  Bertram self-consciously turned from the watching girls and
gingerly placed the cane on the desk.  Morley held Sara a long time,
palming her quim until the last of her pee trickled through his fingers. 
His erection was at full mast and throbbing almost painfully for relief. 
He didn't care who saw it now: Mrs.  Bertram, Christine, Daisy May, Sara or
Rebecca.  There were some things they would just have to get used to and a
stiff cock was just one of a long list.  Eventually he let go of the little
girl and proceeded to dry his hands with his own handkerchief.

   "That was splendid, Mrs.  Bertram.  You did exceptionally well this
morning and it won't be forgotten I can tell you.  You can aid Sara now and
hurry along to your classes.  I'm sorry I detained you longer than
intended."

   The mistress suddenly gaped awestruck.  My God Almighty, the man has...
has an erection!  It's...  big!  No...  it's huge!  She felt her cheeks
flame.  Then it dawned on her that her nipples were rigid and tingling
beneath her attire.  Mrs.  Bertram immediately felt a rush of blood to her
loins, thought of her long departed husband (his being the only erect penis
she had ever witnessed or experienced) and quickly averted her eyes from
the massive protrusion tenting the front of Morley's trousers.  She was at
a loss for anything to do, other than escape from the study and the
presence of this powerful, yet, deeply disturbing man.

   "Y-Yes, sir.  Thank you, sir.  Thank you."

   "No, thank you, Mrs.  Bertram.  It's been a most enlightening morning.
Most enlightening."

   Almost in a complete daze, Mrs.  Bertram gathered the two youngest
together and in minutes was on her flustered way, quietly closing the thick
study door behind her.

   Morley turned to the two remaining girls, looked at them sternly for a
moment, then said, "Right, Christine and Daisy May isn't it?  I want you
both to remove your clothes - everything.  You can leave your knickers on
for the time being.  I shall tell you when to remove them.  Quickly now. 
Move it!"



   ***