Remington Academy - Disciplinary Reforms    by  dolphininthesky

For the rest of my stories, click here /~dolphininthesky/

This is a discipline themed story about the Prefect's Board of Remington Academy who carry out the new Headmistress' sweeping reforms to improve school discipline. Elements of bondage and some relatively light pain is involved (i.e. does NOT contain torture, blood, snuff etc etc - this is a school, not a concentration camp (although students may tell you they are one and the same)).

story code: teens, bd, caning , humil, no-sex (unless you count fingering)




    When the late Lord Cunningham died, his heir, the young Lord took an interest in Remington Academy, the little-known private school which the noble and ancient family had founded nearly a hundred years ago. A banker by training, the young Lord sacked half the staff and imposed a new set of Key Performance Indicators on the new Headmistress.

The Headmistress faced two major problems. Her employer's fixation on the bottomline meant she had to raise tuition fees. But her predecessor, with his ideas of Modern Education, the Banning of Corporal Punishment and such, had created a generation of schoolchildren with high self-esteem, non-existent math, language and science skills, and wild, unruly behaviour. Remington Academy was infamous for its atrociously ill-disciplined students. It was impossible to raise tuition fees unless she first improved the image of the Academy in the eyes of society. This meant improving discipline.

Her second problem was that her employer wished not only to raise revenue, but to lower costs as well - one third of the current teaching staff was going to have to go. But the second problem confounded the first. A smaller teacher to student ratio would cause a further deterioration of discipline. Which would further tarnish the name of the Academy and possibly lead to less students or a reduction in tuition fees.

It was then, that Miss. Schaeffer made her brilliant suggestion. She proposed that the Academy bring back the abandoned notion of Prefects. The last Headmaster had scrapped the concept sometime in the seventies in the tide of Modern Education reforms. But for the Headmistress, it was the perfect idea. By appointing students to enforce school rules, she would have a cost-free method of tightening lax discipline.

Miss. Schaeffer was rewarded with the post of Discipline Mistress for coming up with the idea. She would advise the Board of Prefects, that the school established without delay. Sweeping powers were given to the Prefects. They were responsible for catching and punishing those who offended the school rules - in a nutshell, they were judge, jury and executioner. The Headmistress revised the school rules extensively with the help of her new Discipline Mistress and the Committee of prefects that headed the Board. That leadership Committee comprised of the Head Girl, the two Assistant Head Prefects, the Secretary and the various Team Leaders. Harsh regulations and even harsher penalties were imposed. It was a time when students quaked in their shoes - shoes that had to be clean, shiny and compliant with regulations under penalty of caning. Yes, corporal punishment was back too.

Discipline had definitely improved, the Headmistress, thought to herself as she looked at the satisfied faces on the teachers who had gathered for the staff meeting. They were being regaled with stories of the successes of the new Board of Prefects. They listened intently as Mrs. Thorn began recounting her story of how the new reforms had done wonders to her students.

'This happened only yesterday,' she began, 'I was teaching Shakespeare to the Year Nines of Class 2-A when I felt something hit me in the head when my back was turned. Now, that has been happening with great frequency with that particular class...'

Several other teachers nodded emphatically. They too had lately been pelted with all manner of stuff in Class 2-A when their backs were turned and many of them had been trying in vain to catch the culprit.

'I demanded to know who did it,' Mrs. Thorn continued, 'As usual, the class was quiet. But today, suddenly, the new prefects, James Beech and Cecilia White, rose up from their seats....'

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    It was not a normal English class today. The pretty schoolgirl hung from stout ropes that bound her hands and raised them high over her head. The ropes suspended her from a hook and pulley system in the classroom ceiling, newly installed to facilitate the execution of new disciplinary measures at the private boarding school that was Remington Academy. She didn't quite dangle freely from the hook; the tips of her black, regulation shoes were just barely able to touch the ground. Her plaid, pleated skirt rose up high on her stretched, young legs. And the skirt swayed as she struggled to stand on her toes so that her arms would not have to bear the full weight of her body. Her white school shirt clung to her body as she began to sweat nervously, outlining the plain white camisole, also prescribed by the regulations, underneath. Her arms and shoulders were already hurting, though not as much as her little bubble butt was going to in the next minute.

The fourteen year-old student blushed hotly as her classmates watched her suspended helplessly in front of the classroom. Mrs. Thorn, the middle-aged English teacher stood behind her table with arms folded, watching in approval as the errant student who had thrown a jellybean at her whilst her back was turned was given her due punishment. Young Angela Windleton thought Mrs. Thorn wasn't looking, but she forgot that two of her classmates had been appointed prefects only the week before.

Angela hadn't gone down easily of course. 'You can't do this!' she had protested in outrage as the two prefects, James Beech and Cecilia White marched the still struggling girl from her seat to the front of the class where her hands were bound by a rope attached to a pulley on the ceiling. She kicked and struggled as James operated the winch that slowly drew her hands over her head and finally lifted her slight body an inch off the ground.

Angela Windleton, like many of the other students, came from a fairly well to do home and was spoilt and used to having her own way. She couldn't believe what was happening to her. It was her second year at Remington Academy and all that while, she had thrown jellybeans, paper planes, spit balls and what not at her teachers whilst their backs were turned. It was impossible of course, for the angry teacher to pick out the miscreant responsible for the prank from a class of thirty grinning students afterwards. Never once had she been punished for it. But the disciplinary reforms that the new Headmistress had put into place in recent months were now in full swing. She had not accounted for that.

'There's no need to go easy on her, Miss White,' Mrs. Thorn said with a hint of a smile on her lips. The English teacher was addressing the female prefect who would administer Angela Windleton's punishment. Mrs. Thorn's long accumulated irritation was finally being assuaged today as the new prefects executed justice.

'Yes, Mrs. Thorn,' the slender, bespectacled Cecilia White said. 'If you please, James,' she said to James Beech, her fellow prefect who stood beside the tied and suspended Year 9 girl.

He nodded in reply and quickly flipped Angela's plaid skirt up at the back, exposing the creamy back of her slender thighs, and atop them, her white knickers which tightly hugged the small, clenching moons beneath. Angela hung there, her front facing the class so that only the teacher and the two prefects saw her exposure, but it was no less humiliating. She inhaled sharply as she felt the cold air hit her exposed rump. Her flush intensified and spread to her ears and neck. 'You can't do that!!!' she screeched, embarrassed and indignant. She had been given the new rulebook of course, as had all the other students. But she had laughed it off, as had many other students. It was not possible, in this day and age, to impose the harsh regulations and even harsher punishments stipulated in the new rulebook. Why, corporal punishment was almost equivalent to child abuse in the eyes of today's society!

Angela turned her eyes to the teacher, 'Mrs. Thorn, do something! You can't let them do this to me! This is .. illegal! I'll report this to the police.. to the ministry of education! My mom and dad are going to take this stupid school to court! They'll take all of you to court!!!' She shouted threats first at the teacher and then at the prefects but it fell on deaf ears as James and Cecilia impassively discharged their duty.

Well, as impassively as they could anyway. James gulped and his hand trembled ever so slightly as he held her skirt above her waist as prescribed in the chapter on Disciplinary Action in the Prefect's Manual. Newly installed, this was his first time administering the punishment and he couldn't help staring at his sweet classmate's quivering bottom. Cecilia White steadied her caning hand and took a deep breath. They had practised on mannequins during the training sessions given to new prefects, but this was her first 'live' caning.

Whhhiiiittt. The cane sang through the air before it sank into the tender, springy flesh with a soft crack. The thin cotton knickers did little to protect its mistress as the cane transferred its momentum onto the white buns, making them bounce slightly. The bouncing did not stop there, for Angela Windleton started to dance on her toes in pain, making her springy buttcheeks jiggle further in a scene that hypnotised James Beech. A strangled cry escaped the punished girl's throat as her eyes widened, tears welling up. It was surreal, impossible, she couldn't believe this was happening. The fiery pain of that burning streak on her buttocks. The helplessless as she swung on the rope that suspended her. The humiliation as her thirty classmates gawked.

Cecilia White gave a quiet, unnoticed gasp at the sight. Her breathing quickened and adrenalin surged through her. For a moment the young prefect felt the power in her cane. It was a power that came with the badge and tie that proclaimed her status as a Prefect to all and sundry. For a brief moment that seemed to stretch into eternity, she regarded her first crimson welt. It contrasted starkly with the dancing white flesh that framed it. Cecilia heard Angela Windleton's cry, followed by the gasps and faint whimpers of their watching classmates who had just witnessed their first public caning. A girl who was sitting on the front row, two feet from her punished classmate, timidly hid her face in her hands. More than one boy though, was straining to get a peek of Angela's exposed hindquarters, which, unfortunately for them, faced away from the class.

Whiiissttttt. The cane hissed again before it went crackkkk on Angela's pertness once again. Cecilia White was never popular to begin with, so she had no fear of losing her classmates' approval. She had been a studious, quiet girl who often kept to herself. But that did not mean she was mousy and timid. The Headmistress had chosen the most intelligent and disciplined students to be prefects. Such students were not necessarily the most popular. In fact, she did not want popular students on the Prefect's Board. She wanted prefects that answered to her only, who would enforce the school regulations without fear of losing their fellow student's popular vote.

'Noooo.. pleasseee.... no more.... Stop! stop!.... ' Angela cried out in anguish, her body twisting wildly as the cane bit into her tender parts again and again. Cecilia counted off the thirty strokes stipulated for the four offences of Disrupting the Class (ften strokes), Disrespect to Teachers (ten strokes), Resisting Prefects As They Discharge Their Duties (five strokes) and Bringing Food to Class (five strokes). As Cecilia continued her relentless assault, Angela began to bawl loudly as the repeated strokes cracked into her tenderised bottom, eating away all her unruliness, her stubbornness and her naughtiness. She swung wildly on the ropes, every muscle and tendon straining as she lost her footing and now hung with her weight entirely on her suspended arms. She suddenly noticed that her twisting was causing her to rotate slowly on the rope on which she was hung. This would gradually expose her naked, punished rear to her classmates - panic caught her and she started struggling and twisting even more, the tips of her shoes scrabbling at the floor, in order to try to stop her rotation. Her wildly thrashing legs and swinging body was beginning to throw off Cecilia's aim.

Craccckkk went the cane, hitting the backs of her thighs and cutting away her haughtiness and bitchiness.

Swwwwaacckkk went the slender rod, leaving another welt on the criss-cross pattern already on her buttocks, driving away all thought with the crackling pain.

Whiiiisssshhhkkkk went the flexible instrument, making Angela dance fetchingly, yipping as she struggled in her bonds. The stroke stripped her defenses, leaving her soul bare and naked. She sobbed, pleaded and begged to be let off the rest of the strokes.

'Fuucckkkk you!!!!!' Angela screamed. Cecilia paused suddenly, and consulted her little Manual before replying, 'For the offence of Using Vulgar Language, that will be.... another ten strokes.' Angela sagged, defeated. 'Noooo... pleasee..... I'm sorry Cecilia.... pleassee... no more... I can't take another ten!' she pleaded.

Swwwiiiiifftttt, the thin cane licked at her tenderness, the tip flicking momentarily into crack between her mounds. Angela screamed as the cane drove her rebelliousness and wildness far from her. By the thirtieth stroke, she just hung there limply, her body jerking from the sobs and the blows as the cane corrected her waywardness; struggling no more, the wildcat tamed.

Cecilia paused the caning and gave James a glance. He nodded in reply. It was the signal to proceed with the next step prescribed in the Manual. He stepped round to the front of the sobbing, punished girl and suddenly enfolded her in his arms. The poor girl did not know how to respond. In her fragile, crushed state, she sought out the only comfort available, that of her punisher, James. Her slender frame cleaved to his embrace as she buried her face in his neck and sobbed her heart out, her whole body heaving as she gasped.

The function of James' action was three-fold. Firstly, by holding her tightly like this he could stop her from moving about wildly so Cecilia could administer the punishment properly. The second function was to prevent the emotional scarring of students, which was not in the interests of the school. The principle was that the students should not only be punished, but also comforted during and after their punishment. The idea was inspired from the way a loving parent may punish their children and then later comfort, sooth and wipe away their tears. The third function was more psychologically subtle. By stipulating that the prefects comfort the punished students, the students would be made even more psychologically dependent on them. The dynamics of the relationship between the two groups would become somewhat akin to that of parent and child, further establishing the dominance and authority of the new group of prefects over the student body.

James mentally ticked off the steps outlined in the chapter on Student Comfort in the Prefect's Manual as he pressed Angela's sobbing head to his chest and stroked her back soothingly. 'Shhh.... don't cry. Its alright... it'll be all over soon,' he said gently in her ear. Sobs racked her lithe frame and she bawled even more loudly, as though voicing her grievances to James. But soon, his calm, gentle voice and his comforting hand that lightly stroked her back began to quiet her down. She sobbed quietly into his chest, wetting his uniform with her anguished tears. It was a strange sight, the popular, pretty and also terribly mean and snobbish girl clinging to the studious and well-behaved James, who wouldn't normally have gotten a second glance from her. But now, the first ten strokes of the cane had completely eroded all pride, arrogance and belligerence. Completely broken, she wanted to cling to him as though he was her only friend and comforter in the world. She leaned against his body, hiding her head in his chest as she sought refuge from the humiliating stares and some mean-hearted snickering her classmates gave her.

As her sobs began to subside, James looked up and nodded to Cecilia to continue. He leaned down to whisper into Angela's ear, 'Be a brave girl okay? There's just another ten to go.' Her heartbreaking sobbing increased a little at that, but she did not struggle or resist. 'That's a good girl,' James said, drying her tears with his hand. His arms remained wrapped around her, hugging her tightly. One hand continued stroking her back gently whilst the other held her skirt up to expose her knickered behind again for the rest of the punishment.

The cane resumed that horrible whistling sound it made as it flew through the air. And the dull cracks as they found their target filled the silent classroom. The students could not see the actual punishment as Angela's rear was facing the other way, and their imaginations ran wild, fueled by the sounds that they could hear.

Angela gave a muffled cry as she buried her face in James' chest. He felt the force of the cane transferred through her body. Her slender body jerked and he held her tightly to still her as she twisted her body, her rump on fire. The unavoidable rubbing of her already well-developed young body against his made the session as much a torture for him as it was for her. Although James was conscientiously following the clinical and precise instructions of the Manual, he was a teenage boy after all. And having a pretty girl like Angela rubbing into his body was having quite an effect on certain parts of his anatomy. He could feel her firm, jutting breasts pressing and rubbing insistently into him through their uniforms. Occasionally a stray wisp of her hair would tickle his neck. He could smell the fragrance of her hair, shampoo and just a hint of perfume. Perfume was forbidden of course, and he made a mental note to report it so they could conduct a spot check of Angela's belongings at her dormitory later.

Finally, justice was dispensed, and Cecilia returned the dreaded cane to its place on a hook by the teacher's desk - every classroom had its own cane. 'You will take care of Miss Windleton's injuries now?' Mrs. Thorn enquired the two prefects. 'Yes Mrs. Thorn,' they replied. It was necessary for them to inspect and care for the injuries inflicted during these disciplinary actions. Two two prefects untied Angela and excused themselves from class as they helped her limp off for her inspection.

Angela continued to cling to James as he helped her make her way through the corridors to the rooms used by the prefects for these purposes. Cecilia unlocked the door and the three of them entered. Angela was instructed to climb onto a low, knee-high, leather padded table. A little pillow at one end was where the student lay their head whilst they crouched on their hands and knees. A pillow was placed under their stomachs such that their rump was raised higher than the rest of their body for ease of inspection.

As Angela assumed that position, James sat by her head, stroking her hair and wiping her tears away with tissues. Cecilia undid the girl's skirt and slid it off, exposing her totally. Her eyes widened. Seeing Cecilia's expression, James asked, 'Is she badly hurt?'

Cecilia shook her head as she checked Angela's injuries as she had been trained to do. 'She'll have some bruising and it'll be painful to sit for a few days, but its alright. No blood drawn, her skin isn't broken. This should help...'

Angela gasped at a sudden coldness that came in contact with her fiery bottom. The soothing coolness was a cream that Cecilia was spreading over her hind cheeks, massaging it in, kneading them gently. A little cooing sound escaped Angela's throat involuntarily as she closed her eyes and bathed in the soothing sensations - Cecilia rubbing her behind tenderly, James stroking her hair, the soft padded leather beneath her body and the even softer pillow that cradled her head. The emotionally and physically drained girl unconsciously sucked her thumb as she floated in the soothing, calming sensations. Slowly, the exhausted girl drifted off into dreamland.

'Angela.... Angela?' Cecilia called out softly. The slumbering girl only answered with her deep, slow breathing.

'She's fast asleep,' James said, admiring the long lashes that covered Angela's tightly closed eyes.

Cecilia nodded. Then out of the blue, she asked him, 'You want to help with applying the cream?'

James gulped and his eye moved to where Cecilia's hands as they kneaded the soft, tender, upturned rump. 'Maybe.... it's not so ... appropriate?' he said with no conviction.

Cecilia grinned, 'You're sure? You're just helping to soothe her injuries. The Manual doesn't say it has to be a girl doing it.' Then in a softer whisper, she said, 'I thought I'd ask. You were looking at her bottom the whole time you know.'

James blushed hotly. His back had been turned to the class during Angela's caning, so no one else except Cecilia would have noticed. He made a mental note to be more careful next time.

He moved to the other end of the little padded table to sit next to Cecilia. He swallowed hard and blushed unconsciously when he saw that Cecilia had pulled down Angela's kickers until they were at her knees. She squirted a dollop of the mildly antiseptic cream on his hand and he joined her in applying it liberally to the bottom they had so freely abused a little while ago. Cecilia and James each took an ass cheek.

Her poor bum was red and swollen with multiple welts. The soreness extended all the way down to the top of her slender thighs. As James massaged the cream into Angela, he marveled at how smooth and unblemished her skin was (save for the welts they had marred it with), and how firm and perfect her butt was. Her rear was at once both firm and bouncy - under the layer of babyfat that covered her bubble butt were the toned muscles of a rising star of the Academy's netball team. James and Cecilia spoiled those pretty cheeks as they moulded and kneaded them like play dough. As they deformed the sleeping girl's tender flesh with their groping palms and gripping fingers, their actions kept pulling her cheeks apart to reveal Angela's pink, puckered nether hole. It winked at them so playfully that James could not help but let a finger 'carelessly' slip into the crack, brushing against it briefly.

He looked up at Cecilia, blushing and hoping she didn't notice it. To his surprise, Cecilia shook her head sadly and said, 'Are you so timid?' She then liberally squirted some cream right into the dusky valley between the white twin mounds and, with deliberate slowness, dragged her fingers up and down Angela's anal rosebud, spreading the cream all over it.

James nearly choked. 'Are you crazy? What if she wakes up now??' he said in a panicked whisper.

'Relax, she's totally dead to the world. What's the point of the job if we don't use the perks?' Cecilia replied with studied nonchalance. Truth be told, her heart was hammering and her finger trembled, albeit so slightly that James did not notice. Cecilia was, despite her outward calmness, as moist as James was hard. But it wasn't just Angela's lovely little body that made her so, although that did have its effect. The rush that surged through her was due mostly to the fact that the usually snobbish and haughty Angela who had snubbed her on more than one occasion before she became a prefect, was now completely under her thumb - literally, as she boldly slid her finger into the painfully tight hole with the aid of copious amounts of cream.

James gagged. Cecilia pulled her finger out again and waved it at him. Tentatively, uncertainly, James swabbed more cream onto his  index finger and slowly dipped his shaking finger into the unconscious girl's anus. Very, very slowly, he slid it in until his entire finger was inside. The dull heat, the reflexive clenching, the pulsing of her rectal walls to the rhythm of her heartbeat - James almost left a wet spot on the front of his pants. But suddenly, the canal walls tightened around him without warning and Angela stirred in her sleep. James froze and his overheated member shrank like a wet noodle. The two prefects kept perfectly silent and perfectly still for many minutes. When Angela did not move any further, he began to slowly, painstakingly pull his finger out. The little hole hugged it, reluctant to part with its new friend. As his finger came free with a soft pop, she sighed deeply and mumbled in her sleep - making their hearts beat thunderously for the second time.

Finally, they gently wiped away any excess cream on Angela's poor, raw buttocks and around the entrance to the cute, little butt hole they had abused without her knowledge. Cecilia adjusted the napping girl's knickers and put her skirt on again, smoothing it over her bum. They woke her and she rose from the padded table dazed and woozy from her little nap. None the wiser, Angela docilely followed the two back to class, where she gingerly spent the rest of the day's lessons trying her best to sit uncomfortably on the side of her bum, which the cane had left relatively unmarked.

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Mrs Thorn was just finishing her story (the bits that went on in the classroom anyway), 'And Angela has been positively angelic since then.' Mrs. Thorn beamed at her own little joke and continued, 'Why, she even greeted me politely when I met her on my way to this meeting. That would have been unheard of just last month. All the other students are so much better behaved too. It's a complete change!'

Yes, it was a complete change, the Headmistress thought happily. Things were certainly proceeding according to plan. In the months to come, they were going to put into effect more and more changes. She would save the tarnished name of the school and pull the school's finances out of the red. She had collected the reports from both teachers and prefects and had condensed then into a document that she would send to her employer for his reading pleasure. She was sure Lord Cunningham would be pleased.



Disclaimer: This story is pure fantasy and the author does not condone or promote any of the fictitious activities portrayed herein, many of which are possibly illegal and probably dangerous. No animals were harmed in the writing of this story.