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“This is our new disciplinarian, Miss Strict,” Frau Lotte says. “I think it would be best if you adjourned to her office forthwith, where she can explain the importance of punctuality in a way you might understand, not to mention driving at a reasonably safe speed.”
Headmistress Lotte may as well have invited Kiera to tea for all the impression that appears to make on her.
“Lovely to meet you,” Kiera says, flashing a bright, winning smile in Jane’s direction.
“Likewise. Come with me, please,” Jane says, foregoing any other pleasantries.
Kiera has the demeanor of someone who charms themselves out of trouble, and Jane has no intention of being charmed out of giving much needed discipline today.
Kiera follows Jane obediently to her office, where she stands as she is directed in front of the desk which rarely has anything on it due to the frequent need for it to be cleared.
She removes her sunglasses without being bidden and almost slides them into the neck of her dress before glancing at Jane. “Best not put them there, I suppose,” she says with the hint of a flicker of a wink. She sets them down on the side of the desk instead, along with her head scarf. She takes a moment to shake her hair out, running her fingers through it briefly to satisfy herself before giving Jane an expectant look.
This young lady has obviously been disciplined before. Clearly, she has not been disciplined effectively. Jane composes her features, endeavoring to appear properly authoritarian. She begins the session by holding out her hand.
“Keys, please, Miss Marlin.”
“Oh. I left them in the ignition,” Kiera says with a little laugh, as if she is amused by her own carelessness.
“You will retrieve them and give them to me. I do not allow those I am responsible for to drive dangerously, putting their lives and the lives of others at risk.”
“Not to worry. I’m a very good driver. I drove the Monaco rally when I was…”
“Keys, Miss Marlin. Now.”
Kiera sighs, then pulls them out of her clutch. “I forgot I had them with me,” she lies with ease.
Jane takes them and puts them on the desk. Kiera will not be getting those back for a very long time.
“Attending classes, and indeed, arriving at school on time, and at a safe speed is important,” Jane lectures briefly. “I am told you had not informed the school of your intention of late arrival, nor were you given leave to miss a week of classes. For that, you will be punished.”
“I suppose that’s fair,” Kiera says agreeably.
She has a way about her, a sort of effervescent slickness that does not allow Jane’s sternness to find purchase. She is resistant even as she is compliant.
“Bend over the desk for me, please, Miss Marlin,” Jane says, her demeanor more strict than usual, for she intends to make an impression on this young lady. The headmistress’ warning is ringing in her ears, specifically, the comment about Kiera being a challenge.
Jane has decided that it would be better if Miss Marlin were to learn today, preferably immediately, that her world here has changed. Ignoring the rules and setting her own will no longer be tolerated.
Kiera does not hesitate to obey, laying her upper body across Jane’s desk with what seems like an almost practiced grace. There is none of the blushing shame that usually accompanies the motions of a girl reluctant to be punished.
“Skirt up,” Jane orders.
Again, without so much as a blush, Kiera lifts her skirt up over her hips. She is wearing a bright red lace thong, a scandalous little number that frames her shapely and generous bottom. Her hips perform a small contortion to settle her back into position. There is an air of worldliness about her which makes Jane certain this is not the first time Kiera has invited punishment with a wiggle.
She nearly hesitates to perform the caning at all, but she knows she has committed now, and no matter how arch the girl, she trusts that the cane will do its work.
Without further preamble, Jane lays the first stroke firmly across the center of Kiera’s cheeks. A bright red stripe appears almost instantly, a satisfying punitive mark placed over creamy skin.
“Oh!” Kiera says, ostensibly to express pain, but just a second too delayed to seem genuine. She is pretending to be hurt, putting on a little performance for Jane’s benefit.
Jane gives her a second stroke, even more firmly, and quite closely below the first one. It should be enough to create a more impressive effect, but it seems to be similarly received.
“Ah!” Kiera gasps. This time, to her credit, she manages to make the sound at a more believable interval, but Jane can tell she is making surprisingly little impression on this student.
Four more strokes are given in the usual manner, and all four are taken with the same level of composure.
“Are you learning your lesson, young lady?”
