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“Nothing got into me. You’ve never heard me like that because you never let me argue with you,” Storm shrugs. “I’ve won almost every public speaking competition and debate I’ve ever been in since I was seven years old. But you’re alwaysbend over, stand in the corner, pick up the cigarettes I dropped.” She mimics Jane’s accent and manner of speech just closely enough not to be entirely disrespectful. “Plus, she was rude, and you know it, and I don’t care if you cane me because we both know it.”
Privately, Jane does somewhat agree, but she will do Storm no service at all if she allows her to triangulate the headmistress and disciplinarian on the first day. It is also starting to dawn on the disciplinarian that this young lady has actually been well-behaved and incredibly compliant with her compared to how she is with others. The revelation comes with a certain tingling sensation, something between pins and needles and goosebumps. As much trouble as Storm has been in so far, she has the capacity for a great deal more.
“It is not your job to monitor the behavior of the faculty.”
“Someone should, because so far, it’s…”
“Storm!” Jane says her name sternly again, silencing the argumentative young lady.
“See? Always cutting me off.”
“It’s not going to do you any harm to hold your tongue. I have methods for ensuring respectful speech.”
“Like what?” The question comes with a large side of rebellion.
“Like soaping your mouth.”
Storm snorts. “I’d never let you do that.”
“No? You’re already in the corner, you already have your hands on your head, and you have already been caned twice. What makes you think I cannot do with you as I please, young lady?”
Storm draws in a sharp breath. She is silent, but Jane can practically see theoh nothat just flashed through her mind as she realizes Jane speaks the truth.
“Will this do, Miss Strict?” The headmistress returns with a fine old brush made of a well-oiled wood. It has the surface area of a palm, thereabouts, and when Jane takes it, she feels the comfortable weight of it in her hand. It feels right. It feels proper.
“Oh, yes,” Jane says. “I think this will do nicely.”
“I look forward to seeing it in use,” Headmistress Lotte notes.
Jane glances at the headmistress. Though Storm might very well consider her the peak of maturity, the truth is Jane is not all that much older than her obstreperous charge. She has much to prove here at Birchbane, especially to the headmistress, whose relatively reserved reaction to Storm’s outburst at first seemed like shock. Now, Jane sees something else in the older woman’s steely gaze. Headmistress Lotte’s initial lack of response might be something closer to a great effort of restraint rather than disciplinary ineptitude.
The woman wants to see what Jane is capable of, and Storm, chaotic as always, has played directly into her hands. The more she tries to be independent and impressive, the more she comes across as a spoiled, if precocious and eloquent, little girl in dire need of a spanking.
Jane sits on the bed and crooks a finger at Storm.
“Come here, young lady.”
Storm drops her hands and turns around. She looks first at Jane, and then at Headmistress Lotte. “What are you still doing here?”
Jane resists the very strong urge to palm her face.
“I intend to watch my new disciplinarian in action,” the headmistress says.
“I don’t think so…”
“Storm. Come here. Now.” Jane’s tone is firm and enough to break Storm’s fixation on the headmistress.
“But…” she protests even as she approaches Jane. “She’s here.”
“Yes, you were rude to her, so you will be spanked in front of her.”
Storm rolls her eyes. “Seems…”
Jane doesn’t give Storm a chance to say what it seems like. The young lady has been mouthy enough for one day. She reaches out, takes Storm by the wrist, and tips her over her thighs. Her jeans come down immediately, and for once she is wearing bikini cut underwear which immediately rides up to provide a nicely framed canvas for Jane’s art. Jane takes a brief moment to snug the fabric a little tighter and out of the way, before starting the spanking.
The brush lands crisply against Storm’s bottom, one cheek and then the other, back and forth in a swift and intensely punishing rhythm. Almost immediately her skin flushes pink, and then red, blushing hot spots starting in discrete locations then spreading outward to create a blanket of hot crimson across her flesh.
Storm’s feet are soon drumming against the carpet as she squirms over Jane’s lap. She would certainly be on the verge of escaping if not for Jane’s arm wrapped securely around her waist. A good girl would lie nicely in place and take her spanking, but that is a long way off for this young lady.
