Eaglehurst

By Jocelyn

Headmistress Andrea Constantine, sat primly behind her desk,  her red lips pursed. There was hardly a crease in her sombre grey dress, her black gown draped over her shoulders.  Her dress was, and looked, tailored to her slim body and enhanced the raven hair with just a trace of distinguishing grey streaks.  She tapped her gold pen irritably on the desk and gazed at the man before her.

“Quite Michael, I hear your excuses. Have you nothing else to add in mitigation?”

Michael looked forlornly at his feet.  This was bad.  “I’ve said I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.  It was just a few drinks at the pub at lunchtime to say goodbye to a mate. I just had a couple too many.”

Andrea sighed and frowned. “You see Michael, you arrived back at your science lab worse for wear and insulted Cantrell, our equestrian medal winner, when she remonstrated with you.”  She waited.

“It won’t happen again.”

“No, it won’t.” Andrea said. “You don’t really leave me with much choice Michael. You know very well that Eaglehurst is an expensive school. It is unique in that we produce results which are outstanding and nearly always above the cream of the private establishment. Like Caesar’s wife, we all must be above reproach.”  She stood, and  swung her gaze to the side of Michael.

 A few steps back, Avon stood primly in her black uniform, and white blouse and grey and black striped tie.  At eighteen Avon had reached the pinnacle of womanhood.  A wisp of her blond hair straggled to the right of her blue eyes. Her face was impassive.

 “I’m going to have to let you go Michael.”  Andrea said quietly.

“Please, could you reconsider?”  He looked anxiously to his left at Avon, and then back to Andrea.

There was a heavy pause, as Andrea and Avon exchanged looks. “Well, actually there is one alternative.”  Andrea said, almost to herself. “Avon, our head girl, brought up a good point. Our discipline methods at Eagleshurst are strict, but they work.  The boys are punished by corporal punishment and a less physical discipline is imposed on the girls. An element of humiliation is included which may be seen as bizarre in some quarters, but one can’t argue with the results. Avon has suggested that such a punishment be applied to yourself, rather than dismissal. As you are not directly teaching staff any lack of respect this would incur would not be to the detriment of the establishment.”

Michael felt a shiver of apprehension.  “I, I don’t know what my wife would say?” He said feebly.

“Let’s ask her shall we?”  Andrea said, and pressed the button on her office intercom phone.

Michael gaped as his wife entered the office.  Her eyes were menacingly dark. Wearing a halter top and blue jeans that were a little too tight for her full figure. Michael had once quipped that her backside was too big, a jest that he later regretted.  He swallowed, “Sandy?”

 “Hello Micky.”  She stood close to him, her face twisted in contempt. “Ms Constantine took the liberty of discussing the situation with me, as I would be affected.  We can’t afford for you to lose this job, so accept whatever punishment they offer. Get it?”

Michael nodded.  He turned to Andrea. “Thank you.”  He replied meekly.

“I see no reason to drag this matter out. Soonest mended, soonest forgotten.” Andrea said to Sandy, who nodded briskly. “There’s a room opposite.”   Andrea said, “take him there. He needs to strip entirely and return in say ten minutes. Another boys is due for discipline and matron is bringing him up.  Avon, select the six witnesses of your choice for the punishment. Oh, and fetch Cantrell”. 

Avon smiled, her pink tongue flicking across her full lips. “Yes, Miss Constantine.”  She said demurely,  turned and left.

Sandy looked at Michael and inclined her head towards the door and Michael obediently followed her out to the passageway.  “Ok, get your kit off.”  Sandy snapped impatiently, glancing at her watch as they entered the room opposite.

Michael slowly undressed under Sandy’s scornful gaze.  Shoes and socks, jacket, tie, shirt,  trousers and very hesitantly, his boxer shorts. Sandy’s hand streaked out and seized Michael’s testicles. 

“You stupid sod.”  She hissed and squeezed. Michael’s mouth opened in a silent scream as the pain paralysed him. 

“Please Sandy.” He cried, until she eventually released him.  “Why did you do that?” He winced, cupping his groin.

“Because I don’t want you making a fool of yourself in there. One look at those girls and their short skirts and it’s storky time. I know you! Well with a pair of aching balls that’s not so likely now is it.”  She pulled herself up to her full height, and tilted her head to one side, “come on you wanker, let’s get it over with.”  Michael followed her out. She tapped on the Headmistress’s door and they entered. 

There was quite a congregation in the office. A boy in his late teens stood, apprehensively timid, his hands by his side. Occasionally his hands  would stray towards his groin in an act of modesty but a stern mature buxom woman would scowl at him from her hatchet face, and he’d return to rigid attention.  Around the room were a scattering of young girls from around sixteen to eighteen, sniggering at the plight of the boy.

“Ah, Sandy.” Andrea stood and indicated with her outstretched hand that Michael should stand with the boy.

Michael obeyed nervously. 

Andrea strode to the middle of the room and clapped her hands.  ”Ladies.”  She cried. “You all know why we are here. To administer punishment and, as you’ll see by Michael’s presence, no one is exempt at Eaglehurst.”  She looked around. “Can we expect Cantrell, Avon?”

 “Yes miss, she was just finishing riding when I went down. She said she’d be right up.”

“So, I think we’ll start with you Peter.”  She nodded at matron.

Matron, stepped forward and grasped the lad standing next to Michael. She jerked him forward and he fell to his knees against her. Sneering, she pulled him to his feet and pushed him towards the desk, the surface of which had been totally cleared. 

Michael looked on with increasing trepidation. He was already a figure of fun to the girls and it was obvious that his wife Sandy was relishing his predicament.   Andrea strolled up to the boy’s side.  ”Now Peter, you know what you’re being punished for?”

Peter nodded, looking downwards.

”Avon, can you deal with this now.”  Andrea stepped back as Avon, took Peter by the shoulders and eased him over the desk. 

“You were found with objectionable material in your locker.”  She stated.  “Who wishes to carry out the punishment?”  She looked around. 

“Avon?”  Andrea suggested.  Avon strode to the cupboard and selected a cane.

She flexed it and pondered, eyes on Peter.

 Then, she aimed and the girls stood around in fascination.  The first cut was hard, leaving a scarlet indent. Peter yelped.   He was made to apologise to each of the girls around for disrespect to the female sex.  At each apology Avon swung the cane, until he had addressed each of the ten women present, including Sandy. Avon then led him away. 

“Sorry I’m late.”  Cantrell burst in, breathless and still in her pristine white riding kit. “Not missed anything have I?”

 “The main event is just coming up.”  Matron said and, seizing Michael by his penis, pulled him forward. Laughter erupted.  Sandy stepped to meet Cantrell, “you must be the young lady that this tub of lard offended?” Cantrell nodded cautiously, recognising Sandy. “Well, make him remember his manners in future.” She said coldly.

            “He’s all yours.” Andrea motioned to Cantrell. 

Matron pushed Michael across the desk and he leaned on his elbows, his nose inches from the polished mahogany surface.

Cantrell, her riding crop in her black gloved hands, leaned in to mutter in his ear.  “How would you like to be your wife’s gelding?”  She said. There was a ripple of amusement from those listening?  “I’ve gelded several stallions you know. All better equipped than you.” She look up at Sandy. “How would you like  your husband to be servile, a castrato?” 

Sandy grinned wolfishly. “It would serve him right, the useless tosser.”

Michael trembled and complied. Then, giving a slight squeeze, she released him and stood up with a self satisfied pout. 

She drew back her foot clad in a riding boot and mimed giving him a kick between his legs, slowly forcing up the dangling testicles. There was a ripple of approval.

“A dozen I think?”  She suggested, looking to Andrea for approval.

“Easily.”  Andrea replied. 

“Now Michael, remember I’m watching.”  Sandy called to him.

“Sandy, would you like a record?” Caroline, one of the youngest of the girls held up her portable phone.

“Would love it.”  She laughed.

Michael’s scrotum shrank with the indignity as Caroline started to film his humiliation.

Cantrell took a deep breath, then swung her crop. A bright red streak shot across Michael’s rear and he shrieked. His back arched and his eyes bulged at the sudden pain. “What do you say?”  Cantrell barked.

“I’m sorry Cantrell.” He stuttered.

“What did you call me?” Cantrell snarled, and the crop flew again. Once more Michael shrieked.   She hissed in his ear. “Miss Cantrell to you.” 

“Miss, Miss Cantrell. I’m, I, I’m so sorry. It won’t happen again.”  Tears shone in his eyes.

Cantrell eased back and gazed around at the spellbound girls. “This is how you deal with men.” She said contemptuously.  “They’re nothing but animals, so deal with them as such.”  Then she swung her crop again.  Michael groaned, and began to plead.

After the sixth stroke, Cantrell swapped to a polished leather paddle.  The effect was to sting but Michael’s buttocks were already almost numb.  At each stroke he affirmed his allegiance to Cantrell and womankind, promising anything to ease the torment.

Finally after the last stroke the matron came forward and started to rub some cream onto his soreness. Cantrell lifted his head and looked into his eyes.

“There, that wasn’t too bad was it?” She teased.  She bent over towards him and he found his eyes wandering to her tight white jodhpurs. With the ministrations of the matron, the scent of Cantrell and the closeness of the girls around him, his groin began to respond.

Avon came up to him and raised him. His growing erection bobbed comically.

“See.”  Andrea said and the girls surrounded him to view the organ on its rise to fame. “I told you, they are just animals. They can’t help themselves, pathetic. Sandy, take him away.”

Michael trailed behind Sandy, his wobbling erection a figure of fun for the women.

As they reached the door, Sandy turned. “Take a look Micky. She tilted her head and Michael turned.

The women were watching him with a feral intensity.  “Take a good look, for Andrea has said that if ever you disobey me, or need disciplining then this is where I bring you.” With that she lifted her chin and went out the door.

Michael realised that his life in servitude had just begun.

End