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Charles watched as the young woman sobbed but obeyed. She soon had her drawers untied and after they dropped to the floor, she stepped out of them, bending to pick them up and folding them before handing them to Eleanor. Charles watched as Willamena took a deep breath before reaching for the hem of her skirts. She gave him one last look, her eyes shining with her tears, her lower lip trembling as she silently begged for mercy. Charles felt a moment’s hesitation as he saw her tear-stained face. He understood that if he were officially offered the position of headmaster, many a young woman would be making a tearful plea for forgiveness when sent to his office for corporal discipline. Charles realized that Eleanor was watching his every move. Though he vividly remembered smacking Lucille’s bottom, he knew it had gone mostly unnoticed by the girl. By the time he was done here, though, he knew that Willamena would be very aware that she had been soundly disciplined. He steeled himself to do his duty to the best of his ability.
“Skirts well up, miss,” Charles said, and then pointed at the settee with the cane. “Bend right over, elbows on the settee and lift your bottom high,” he further instructed. He didn’t realize he was holding his breath until the young woman sobbed, but bent over the settee after pulling her skirts up. Charles saw her well-rounded bottom pushed toward him. He briefly compared hers to that of Lucille’s he’d seen in a similar position when he’d witnessed the strapping given to her by her guardian. Whereas Lucille’s bottom was much smaller and heart-shaped, Willamena’s was much broader and far plumper. Charles quickly realized that just as every individual was different, he would soon have the opportunity to compare many a naked posterior if he earned the position of headmaster.
“Onto your elbows, Willamena,” Eleanor reminded her, and Charles knew she was also reminding him to make sure his instructions were always followed. Charles felt his throat tighten as he watched her lower her elbows to the settee, which both lifted her bottom and caused it to push further out into the room. He glanced at Eleanor to see her give him a nod.
Charles took a deep breath and lifted the cane. He remembered the lessons with the pillow and stepped forward to carefully measure the distance needed. As he lowered the cane to press against the offered buttocks of Baroness Johansson, he felt a calm descend over him.
“Stay in position, Willamena,” he said sternly. “Your behavior has earned you a dozen. Extra strokes will be added if you fail in your duty to submit properly to your discipline. You’ve admitted your naughtiness and it is time for your bottom to pay the price with a proper caning. Are you ready to begin, young lady?” Charles made sure he spoke in a firm, no-nonsense way. He wanted the woman to understand he was going to do exactly as her husband would wish.
Willamena gave a sob. “Yes, sir, I’m so sorry I was naughty, sir.”
Charles nodded and tapped the cane gently against her buttocks. “I know you are, but we are here to take care of that naughtiness. Relax your bottom, baroness, let your buttocks hang loose so that each stroke will do its job to teach you your proper duty,” Charles said repeating words that Eleanor had taught him in a calm yet authoritative manner. Willamena’s soft cry spoke of her embarrassment at his instruction, but he watched as the young woman softened her buttocks until they were rounded and no longer clenched.
Satisfied that he had her in the proper frame of mind for her discipline, Charles lifted the cane and placed the first stroke. As it landed across the top of the offered cheeks, Willamena moaned deeply. Charles saw that, though he’d placed the stroke where he’d intended, the weal was not immediately apparent as he knew it should have been the moment the rod cracked against her flesh. He tapped her bottom again and then lifted the cane higher over his shoulder. The second stroke cracked much louder when he remembered to flick his wrist with the blow. Willamena lifted her head and cried out loudly as the weal rose on her bottom only slightly below where the first had landed. Charles stepped a bit further away and snapped the cane forward again, this time nodding as the weal instantly bloomed on her flesh, only the divide of her buttocks disrupting the linear red line.
“Nooo!” the woman sobbed, her head arched back at the fire of the stroke. “Oh, please, sir, please, not so hard… I… I can’t bear it,” she sobbed, but remained in position.
Charles looked to Eleanor, who simply shook her head and smiled.
“You shall bear it, Willamena, and thank me for it after we are done,” Charles said, as he tapped the cane lower on her cheeks. Stroke after stroke cracked against Willamena’s bottom, forming almost a perfect pattern down the surface of her buttocks. Charles’ aim had only allowed a slight overlapping of two weals. Willamena was soon wailing, her knees bending after each stroke was given and received. Nine lines of fire decorated her rump before Charles paused and allowed the girl to compose herself before receiving further instructions.
“Naughty little girls need to have a hot bottom to remind them to be good girls. Now, bend further forward please, baroness, and push up your naughty bottom so you may accept the next strokes right on your sit-spots,” Charles ordered. Willamena sobbed hard as she bent forward, covering her face with her hands as she willingly submitted the most sensitive part of her bottom to the cane. Charles nodded, appreciating her immediate submission though he knew her bottom had to feel as if it were on fire. He was further pleased when she remembered to loosen her thoroughly wealed bottom.
“Very good, Willamena, your papa would be pleased,” Charles said before lifting the cane again.
Strokes ten and eleven cracked loudly in the room, each raising a weal along the line where her bottom met the tops of her thighs. Willamena was wailing now, her face buried in her cupped hands, her bottom wagging up and down and side to side in a futile effort to ease the burning across her cheeks. Charles stepped slightly to the side and tapped the cane on a diagonal across the weals raised on her bottom. He had learned that this was considered ‘closing the gate’ and as he gave her the last stroke, harder than any previous, the weal immediately rose across the previous weals as she shrieked from its delivery. He smiled noticing that the lines did, in fact, resemble an innocent garden gate.
“Ohhh, please… I’m so sorry, sir! Please… no more…” Willamena sobbed as her bottom bounced wildly.
Charles wasn’t even aware he’d stepped closer to her until he felt the raised lines he had painted onto her posterior. Tracing over her flesh with his fingertips, he was amazed at the heat each weal gave off and realized he could feel the ridges of each one. A delicate cough had him looking to see Eleanor shaking her head. Slightly embarrassed, he lifted his fingers from the punished posterior and stepped back.
“Willamena,” Charles said softly. “You may rise and go to the corner to consider your behavior. Keep your skirts up and your caned bottom properly displayed.” He watched as Baroness Willamena Johansson, a respected woman of upper society, slowly stood, her face tear-streaked as she kept her skirts off her well caned bottom.
“Than… thank you, sir,” she said.
“You are most welcome. You did very well in offering your bottom, little one. I am sure your husband would be proud of you for accepting your caning so well. I’m proud of you as well,” Charles said and smiled at her. She returned his smile with one of her own before walking to the corner where she buried her nose against the wall and pushed her bottom well out into the room. Charles kept her on display for a half-hour, simply watching her after he returned the cane to the urn.
Eleanor seated herself at her desk and entered the details of the session in a journal. Charles knew she would go over everything with the woman’s husband upon his return. Charles couldn’t help but hope the baron agreed that he’d done a proper job in punishing his wife. As Charles considered that, he also wondered if perhaps Willamena had simply missed her husband or perhaps it was as simple as the fact that the woman missed having her bottom tended to by her strict papa.. Regardless, her derrière now bore a dozen distinct weals with only the first less prominent than the others. It would be at least a few days before the miscreant sat without remembering this session.
For the first time since he’d opened the envelope containing the news that he was being considered for the appointment, Charles felt himself capable of handling the position of headmaster. He’d not faltered during the administration of his first caning, nor had he felt he’d been unduly harsh. His strokes had been purposeful, and without a doubt, hurt quite fiercely, yet he remained calm and concerned about the poor woman’s feelings. If the baroness’ tears were any proof, his choice of words when lecturing Willamena had been more than adequate to enforce the feeling of guilt and the need to willingly atone for her naughtiness. After the punished Baroness received Charles’ permission to remove herself from the corner, Charles handed her the discarded drawers and watched as she stepped into them, a blush upon her cheeks.
“I don’t expect you’ll forget your husband’s wishes for good behavior any time soon,” Charles said, as the woman stood after adjusting her clothing.
“No, sir, I’m sorry I was so naughty. I’m sorry you had to cane me but thank you for the lesson,” Willamena said softly, but with respect in her tone.
Charles was surprised when she unexpectedly threw her arms around him. He hugged her gently in return, knowing she was seeking a bit of comfort after her painful discipline.
“Just see to your better behavior, my dear. I’m sure your husband will have another lesson for your bottom upon his return,” Charles said, and then took her arm and led her to the door.
She turned back into the room, “Thank you, Miss Summers, I’ll try to be a better role model for my sisters,” she said.
“I’m certain you shall, my dear,” Eleanor said with a smile. “Now, hurry along, as I’m sure Nanny Bishop is waiting to put you to bed. Remember, no rubbing that aching bottom, baroness. Remind Nanny to tie your hands to the bed. I would hate to have to call you back into my office again this evening if your hands were discovered where they are not to be.”
Willamena blushed hotly, and Charles’ breath caught as the rather cryptic warning became clear with the memory of seeing a sheen on the baroness’ inner thighs as she writhed from the administration of the rattan rod.
“Yes, ma’am. I… I’ll remind Nanny Bishop, ma’am. Good night.”
Charles watched her walk down the hall, again amazed at the realization that no one would necessarily know that the baroness had just gotten her bottom caned. He closed the door and turned back to Eleanor. He was unable to hide the smile of satisfaction lighting his face. Eleanor smiled back.
