The Cane Mutiny - a new story!

Well, it's been quite a while since I did this, but I have a new story for you; freshly written and never before published.

I saw a reference to the Caine Mutiny, Herman Wouk's splendid World War Two novel, filmed with Humphrey Bogart, and I just thought, well, that would make for a good spanking story title.

Three hours at the keyboard and the following emerged.

I hope that you enjoy it; I admit that writing it was a pleasure, so there may be more to come soon.

The Cane Mutiny

Waiting was always the worst thing about a visit to the Headmaster's Study; well, at least until he passed sentence on you for your sins.

Thea, Laurel and Sara sat on the hard, wood seated chairs in his reception area, trying to imagine a positive outcome for the forthcoming interview. The three Sixth Form girls had been overheard rubbishing Miss Haverlock, the Economics teacher, and they all knew that the Head took a very dim view on a lack of respect towards any member of his staff.

The fact that they had a plan did nothing to lift the mists of terror that swam around them. No plan ever survived contact with the enemy.

As they had arrived they had witnessed a reluctant Fifth Year being lead into the Study; she walked with head down, and dragged her feet at every step, as she followed Miss Bates, the Head's secretary, into the room.

Miss Bates swiftly exited, and, bidding the three girls sit, she herself sank into the much more comfortable looking chair that dominated the area behind her desk. She was smartly dressed, and confident, and, of course, she was not due to have an extremely uncomfortable interview with the Head.

“Right” she said, consulting briefly a diary that lay open upon her desk. “You three are next. Shouldn't be too long, I would think.”

Thea felt inclined to inform her that a wait of several hours would have been fine with them, but good sense prevailed.

The door to the Study was a sturdy affair of well varnished oak, the product of an earlier time when costs were not so closely watched. Even so, occasional murmurs did escape it's grasp, and the girls could tell that the earlier meeting was going as they expected.

The girl who had been so unwilling to enter the Study had been Nyssa, a frequent troublemaker in the Fifth, and this would not be her first exposure to the Head's less than tender mercies.

Mr Queen, the long established Head of St Jospeh's, rarely prolonged disciplinary discussions. He recited the details of the crime, asked the girl before him is she had anything to say, and then pronounced sentence. He was a firm believer in the benefits of corporal punishment, so this would usually be a dose of either slipper or cane.

The girl would bend, skirt raised, and the appropriate prescription administered with little further ceremony. At the cessation of celebrations the punished pupil would be promptly ejected, to rub her sore posterior in the corridor, often accompanying the action with a little dance.

The Head had a heavy hand and laid on firmly; on occasion he would take a junior girl over his knee and administer her punishment in the form of a spanking from his large and very stiff hand, and this was known to hurt almost as much as a slippering.

“Bend over.” These words emerged clearly from beyond the wooden guardian, and the three waiting supplicants imagined Nyssa placing her body against the edge of his shiny old desk, and laying herself across it.

The sharpness of the swish of a well aimed cane came quite clearly, as did the answering schoolgirl squeal. A few seconds pause, doubtless whilst the Head took further aim, and the sequence was repeated.

In all the sound of 6 firm whacks, and 6 increasingly uncomfortable cries, were heard. Within a matter of minutes Nyssa emerged, tears rolling down her cheeks, and hands clutching frantically at her seat.

“Ooh” she sobbed “He's in fine form today!” Her tears overtook her, and, still rubbing at her chastised rear, she minced her way down the corridor, desperately trying not to let her buttocks touch each other.

“Won't be long now girls.” Miss Bates piped up helpfully. “Just take a minute to write up the Punishment Book.”

Thea gulped. She was having second thoughts about this whole idea. In fact she was some way past second thoughts, having been tossing the idea back and forth within her head ever since the summons to visit the Head had been received.

She had talked it over with Laurel and Sara, and, whilst none of them had much confidence in Thea's plan, they didn't think that it would make matters worse. It was worth a shot, at least.

Mr Queen's head emerged from behind the door to his Study, quite round and surprisingly jolly, unencumbered by much in the way of hair, and with large piercingly blue eyes.

His look grew harder as he regarded them. Perhaps he was already deciding on their painful future.

“Right. You Three. Get in here.”

He disappeared back into the warmth of his room, and the three girls rose to follow him. They passed beyond the safe haven of his reception area, into his rather comfortable looking study, and Miss Bates promptly closed the door behind them.

The study was well appointed, with thick ruby red carpet and leather settees lying along each wall. At one end, nearest the door, was a roaring log fire, which served to keep at bay the Winter chill that ruled outside, and also to cast rather threatening shadows.

At the far end of the room was his old ship's desk, imposing and clearly of some age, but varnished to a glittering sheen. In front of it were arrayed three chairs, similar to the ones that the girls had occupied in his reception area, and behind it was a lovely leather chair that rose above and enfolded him.

Mr Queen sat, and nodded the three girls towards the wooden chairs. He glanced at a note before him in the desk, and folding his hands together before him, he leaned against the desk.

“This, I must say, is rather disappointing. Three of my senior girls, all prefects, I think? Yes, that's so, and all eighteen years old, but all caught gossiping about one of their teachers. Behind her back.”

He fixed them with his steely glare.

“I assume that you know how seriously I feel about a lack of respect, from any of my girls.” This was clearly not a question that he expected them to answer. “When it is more mature young ladies, I can only consider the matter to be far more serious.

“You are supposed to set a positive example for your peers, and for the younger girls, and if I do not punish you most severely I will be setting a poor example that only compounds your own.

“Well, do any of you have anything to say?”

To Mr Queen's mind this too was obviously rhetorical. There could be no disputing their guilt, and no explanation could command clemency. He intended to make an example of them, and, mentally, he was already choosing the cane that he would use to reinforce the lesson.

Thea coughed nervously. This had been her idea, and she had been nominated as the group's spokesperson. She hoped that her voice wouldn't tremble, and that her throat would not close and hide the words away forever.

She took the deepest breath that she could, and let it sigh out from between her lips. She felt a hand pat her back, and squinting sideways she realised that Sara had offered a gesture of support.

Thea nodded to herself, and pushed forward to the very edge of her seat.

“Actually Mr Queen, I would like to say something. On behalf of all of us.”

The Head sat back, a puzzled expression on his face. This was unusual, to say the least. Occasionally a junior girl might try to excuse her crime, but no one who had been at the school for any time laboured under the misapprehension that they could escape their fate at this late juncture.

Mr Queen cleared his throat, and thought about this. Clearly he had to hear the girl out. He was, however, offended that she should seek to evade her well deserved punishment.

He rubbed his hand over his mouth; the roughness of newly grown bristles reminded him that it was late afternoon, and he had other things to do once this task had been completed.

“Well, go on then. Let's get this over with.” Thea felt a little intimidated by the negative energy that he exuded. This was going to be an uphill struggle!

“Firstly, I would just like to apologise on behalf of all of us. And we'd like to apologise face to face to Miss Haverlock too. We were out of order, and you are right to be angry at us.

“What we said was inappropriate for any pupil here, and, as you said, as senior girls we are supposed to set a good example. We let you and the school down. We are genuinely sorry.”

The Head's voice rumbled. “Well, that's a nice apology. And I appreciate it, as, I'm sure, will Miss Haverlock. It does not, however, make me any the less willing to punish you.”

“No.” said Thea, her voice stronger as she went on. “We never supposed that it would. And, of course, we admit that we deserve to be punished. An example must be set.”

Mr Queen tilted his head to the left, and regarded the tall, dark haired girl who sat before him. Initially she had seemed shrunken, but now she was upright, even leaning towards him as she stated her case. He sensed that he was no longer entirely in control of this meeting.

“May I ask? You intend to cane us?”

“Yes of course I do.” Mr Queen snapped. Perhaps they were just wasting his time for some stupid reason. “I always take disrespect seriously, and, as you acknowledge, an example must be set.” He felt mildly pleased with himself; parroting back Thea's words seemed almost poetic.

“It's just that, you see, we feel that caning three senior girls, three actual adults, sets a bad example.”

“Ah, you do? I see. What do you suggest then? I can't imagine that you would be more inclined to take a long slippering instead. As responsible adults.”

“Well, we strongly feel that corporal punishment is inappropriate for everyone, but, in particular, us. We're grown women; making us bend over and lifting our skirts for you to whack a stick against our bottoms is, well, just wrong. It's humiliating; you shouldn't be doing it.”

Mr Queen sighed tiredly. So, it was another cane mutiny. Every year or two, some girl decided that she was too old to be caned.

It was his job to teach them that they were wrong.

“Let me ask you something, Thea. Uh, you other ladies can answer this as well, if you like. Actually it's a series of questions.

“First of all, did you know that what you were doing was wrong?”

The three girls looked at each other. They had no choice; they had already admitted this. Facing the Head they nodded in unison.

“Good, good. I admire your honesty. If not your good sense. Now, second question; did you realise that you would be punished if you were caught?”

Once more the three girls thought about this, but could see no way out. They all nodded again.

“Right. One more routine question and then we'll get to the heart of matters. So, you were all aware that this school employs corporal punishment for all serious offences?”

The three girls were in their seventh year at St Joseph's. All had, on one or more occasion, been placed over their Housemistress's knee, or bent over for her slipper. Both Sara and Thea had actually been caned by the Head as Fifth Years when they were caught out of bounds one Saturday evening.

It would have been impossible to deny that they were aware of the consequences of getting caught. Like nodding dogs on a bumpy road they signalled their assent.

“Fine. Oh, one more routine one, I think? You did realise how seriously I view disrespect for my staff? You haven't just learned of it in this office today?”

There was no need for consultation. The three nodded once again.

“Right. Good. Here's a question that you might want to think about for a moment. I assume that you all know of other girls who have been caned, or slippered, or spanked?” The little group nodded yet again; surely this wasn't the difficult question? “Well then, did you ever feel an urge to protest the use of corporal punishment in their cases?”

Thea pursed her mouth. Glancing to her right she could see Laurel biting her lower lip, and from her left came the sound of Sara shuffling uncomfortably in her seat.

It was a good question, and the answer was apparent.

Thea spoke up, although her spirits were plunging. Her confidence in her plan, which was never exactly high, was spiralling into the dust.

“Ah but, they weren't senior girls, were they? Caning kids is different; we're adults now.”

Mr Queen had been prepared for this objection; it was not an unusual thought, although, to his mind, it lacked merit.

“Well, there are two things about that. The first is that, despite being legally adults, whilst you remain at this school we remain technically in loco parentis, and as you choose to stay you also choose to be treated as our other pupils are.

“But more directly relevant to this discussion is this; you know Felicity Steel, and Lyla Brin? You do, yes? Both 18 years old, both girls that you know, and both girls that I had to cane last week.

“I can't recall receiving you protesting delegation then. Or a signed statement of disapproval. A petition even. Could it be that your objection to the cane is unique to yourselves?”

Thea began to splutter a defence, but nothing other than odd words emerged. The Head had seen to the heart of the matter.

He let them sit for a moment in silence, and watched with approval as their cheeks flushed with embarrassment at their transparency.

Mr Queen sighed, with just a hint of satisfaction. Although he had cause to use it fairly frequently, he did not actually enjoy punishing his girls, as a rule. Of course, rules are made to be broken, and in this case he believed that administering effective discipline might actually make his heart beat a little lighter.

He stood, and looked down at the broken students before him. Leaning forward he placed his hands flat on the desk, and fixed them with a glare.

“You will not be surprised to learn that I intend to cane each of you. Six with the senior cane. This was to be your punishment before your rather spurious and self serving display. And of course details will be placed on the School Notice Board, as a lesson to others.

“I think that your attempts to escape a just punishment merit a further sanction. In fact, I think that they effectively were an additional show of disrespect to Miss Haverlock. In view of this, you will return here tomorrow afternoon, and offer your apologies to her face, as you proposed.

“After which, she will adminster a dozen slaps with the heaviest plimsoll I can find. Just to make the punishment a little more personal. Any objections?”

The girls certainly did object; when overheard they had been discussing Miss Haverlock's physique, and how it rather resembled a bull elephant. Or a boy elephant, as Thea had quipped, giggling at her cleverness.

The damage that Miss Haverlock would do to bottoms already suffering the after effects of Mr Queen's cane did not bare thinking about. They did not, however, have a compelling argument to make.

The Head observed the ashen faces of the girl with a little sadistic pleasure. He had genuinely been offended by their words, and a chance to include Miss Haverlock in their punishment suited him very well.

He strolled across to the cupboard that stood in the corner behind his desk, and opened it to reveal a selection of canes dangling from a rail, hanging by their crooks. He considered them for a moment, and then selected one. He pointed it towards the ceiling, in a type of salute, and then thrashed it through the air.

It was around three feet long, and horrifyingly thick to the eyes of the three girls. When swished it barely bent. Mr Queen turned to look, once more, at his prospective victims, and he was very pleased to see how little they were looking forward to their coming ordeal.

“Right then, stand up. Sara and Laurel; take the chairs and stack them over there.” He pointed to a bare section of wall, just beyond the sofa to his right. “Then sit over there while I deal with Thea.”

Turning to the ringleader, he pointed at his desk with the tip of the cane.

“No point in prolonging matters, is there? Bend flat over the edge of my desk please, and raise your skirt.”

Thea did as he bid, flipping the pleated uniform skirt up to her waist. She had prepared for this outcome by wearing the thickest cotton knickers that she owned, but leaning in place the cool draft as the Head passed behind her showed just how little protection they would provide.

Mr Queen stood to her left, the cane in his right hand. He placed the bamboo stick against the point at which Thea's cheeks poked out most prominently, and paused a moment.

With gentle flicks of his wrist he tapped the cane on it's target, like a golfer addressing the ball with his driver. Breathing in he withdrew the cane; as his breath whooshed out the cane whacked down, landing exactly were it had lain.

Having little flexibility it pounded into the two mounds of flesh, bruising the area around it's arrival point. Thea gurgled; words were well beyond her. The single stroke hurt more than six strokes had before.

The Head placed the cane against Thea's bottom once again, an inch lower than previously. He paused once more, to ensure that the sting of the first stroke had been absorbed, before deftly adding the second.

Thea offered a stifled squeal. It was prevented from being a full blown squeal by the force with which her lips had been pursed together as the cane fell.

Mr Queen observed the results of his work; two parallel lines that glowed an aching red, peeping beyond the edges of Thea's regulation Winter underwear. Aiming slightly above the first stroke he promptly despatched a third.

Tears rolled uncontrolled down Thea's face, and she sobbed against the desktop. She felt drained by the punishment, as though she would never move again. The fourth whack descending against her bottom changed her mind about that, as she jolted against the desk, and tried vainly to crawl across it.

Mr Queen watched as Thea's outstretched hands made claws that tried to haul her away. He placed a steadying hand against the small of her back and, not unkindly, he offered “Just two left.”

Not giving the sobbing young woman any more chance to think about it, the fifth stroke fell. Thea still had the energy to scream, although her head remained resting on the wooden surface.

Mr Queen studied her bottom one final time. Usually he gave the final stroke a little extra vim, to drive home the point, but he felt that such an action would be gratuitous in this instance. In truth he rather regretted using such a heavy cane, but he clearly couldn't treat the other two girls any differently than he had Thea.

Straightening his posture Mr Queen raised the cane again, and drove home the final punishing blow, going rather more easily on the howling girl than he had previously.

He became aware of a noise behind him, and turned to see both Sara and Laurel sobbing themselves. How much, he wondered, was that for their friend, and how much in fear for their own soon to be stinging bottoms?

Moving closer he reached out and flipped Thea's skirt back over her throbbing bottom. Then he took her shaking shoulders and, almost tenderly, helped her to stand.

Wordlessly he guided her over to the settee where her friends were waiting; he took a large soft cushion and placed it on one of the seats, before lowering Thea on to it. She winced as her bottom took the weight of her body, but otherwise she just continued to cry, now silently.

Mr Queen turned to Sara, and gestured that she should stand.

“Your turn, young lady.”

Sara shook her head, not so much in refusal but more to clear some of the tears from her eye. She knew that there was no point in trying to avoid her fate, and, almost automatically, she walked slowly and steadily towards the desk.

Mr Queen repeated the ritual; gestured to her position, told her to bend, and waited whilst she raised her skirt. Reluctantly he noted that she had not thought to wear her thickest underpants; perhaps she had more confidence in the argument that they had suggested.

Whatever the reason, he decided to go a little easier on the remaining two girls; after all Thea had clearly been the impetus behind the tiny rebellion, and she deserved a slightly greater punishment.

Despite this undertaking, each slashing blow of the cane provoked a howl and further tears from the shaking girl, as she rocked from side to side in response to her punishment. Each time a brief steadying hand on her back stilled her frame, to allow for the next whack.

Very soon Sara's immediate ordeal was over, and she too was escorted to a well cushioned seat. Mr Queen was pleased to note that Thea's tears had subsided into a mere trickle, and she was breathing steadily. That was what people always forgot; the pain of the cane was instant, and awful, but soon faded to a bruised ache that was unpleasant, but could be borne.

He was quite impressed to see that, in comforting her friend, Laurel had forgotten to continue her own crying, and she rose of her own accord, stepping towards the desk without being told to.

Laurel was a tall girl, leggy and impressively slim, so lying across the desk she could actually grip the far side. The lifting of her skirt revealed knickers that would not usually be considered regulation, high cut on her thighs and rather silky, but the Head did not intend to make an issue of it.

He dealt with her precisely as he had Sara, and, despite her bravery, she too was in gales of tears once he had finished. He placed her on the sofa, and told the girls they could have ten minutes to recover themselves before they had to leave.

Unusually he decided on a little lecture before they left.

“Well, I'm sure that was a most unpleasant ordeal for each of you. And equally, I'm sure that you each know that you only have yourselves to blame.

“Girls who do not misbehave do not find themselves lying across my desk, and they do not suffer what I am sure are extremely sore bottoms.

“I was very disappointed in your initial lack of respect, and your ludicrous attempt to argue that you should not be caned only annoyed me further. I am sure that you would not advise anyone else to try a similar approach to my disciplinary methods.

“Still, one of the benefits of corporal punishment is that, once it has been handed out, we can put the issues that occasioned it behind us. In this spirit I will suspend the slippering from Miss Haverlock that I proposed, although make no mistake; I will certainly revisit the issue if I hear of even the smallest hint of disrespect from you. To anyone.”

The girls looked up as one, their spirits rather buoyed by this act of mercy to such an extent that, briefly, they forgot the pain that still radiated out from their wounded buttocks.

Seeing that, for now at least, the tears of the three young ladies had ceased, he bade them stand. Telling them finally that he did not expect to see them in his study again, he ushered them out into reception, where Miss Bates was waiting.

She noticed how subdued the girls were, and how stiffly they were walking. She also noted their tear stained faces, and quickly passed them moistened tissues, so that they could tidy up their faces.

Judging that she had done enough, Miss Bates strolled into the study, to check if the Head needed anything further from her.

The chastened trio trudged down the corridor, barely speaking. Each of them still wanted to clutch their thoroughly caned bottoms, but felt that it would be too undignified to do so, in view of anyone that they might pass.

By unspoken agreement they headed straight for the small room that they shared, to examine each other's battle wounds. This was clearly an encounter that they had lost, in the war between educator and student.

And, for now at least, the Cane Mutiny was no more.

The End.

And that's our story folks I hope that you enjoyed it, at least a little. Next time I'll try for something a little bit more lighthearted. Perhaps.

Best wishes

Tim

All pictures have been proudly borrowed from the Institute of Discipline, purely because they tend to make my favourite school girl caning videos (other spanking video producers are available). Check them out though - these shots are just a taste of what they offer.