Enter the Assistant Headmistress

Claire Summers was on the shortlist for the position as assistant headmistress at Bottomsworth Academy. Now, after the new policy was in effect, Mr Robertson found himself spending more time smacking young bottoms rather than doing any actual work.

The new policies were heavily criticized in the local community, and now, once again the local town council was on the warpath. He sighed and looked out the window. Winter was approaching, mere months had passed since the rules were introduced, and whilst the “documentation folder” was growing, it would be a pity to lose the opportunity to fill it the coming years. Yet, if his experiment was to survive, he needed results, and more importantly, allies.

He stroked his beard as he was looking at the PE class on the nearby track. If he had the time, he would pull out his binoculars to capture all the pupils and how the sweat stuck to the skin, making the specially designed PE uniforms semi-translucent.

He thought about the interview. Ms Summers was not the most accomplished academic, in fact her qualifications were mediocre at best. It was her policy on corporal discipline that had landed her on the shortlist.

She explained that pain in of itself was meaningless and the lesson would be easily forgotten. No, to make a lesson stick, embarrassment and humiliation was necessary.

Her tidy and warm appearance stood in stark contrast to her words. Long blonde hair, white top, accompanied by white trousers. She could hardly be two or three years older than the pupils themselves.

When asked how she would proceed with a potential disciplinary action. She spoke clearly, and calmly with a sharp look in her eyes.

She would demand skirts to be removed, hands placed on their heads, and she would personally lower the knickers down to the knees, leaving the girl exposed from the navel and down. This little detail had several benefits she argued. For one, the girls were now acutely aware of everything they were showcasing, the contrast of being covered above the waist to nothing but her skin below made them more aware of the vulnerability and exposure they were displaying.

Secondly, it allowed her to hit those sensitive spots at the lower thighs when bent over the desk. Then in a side remark she stated that should the underwear drop to the ground, she would start the punishment over again.

In cases with several perpetrators all would be standing with their hands on their heads, skirts off, knickers half-mast observing what the other girls were showcasing and the effect the spanking had as the bottom became increasingly crimson in color.

The door to her office was to remain open after the spanking to allow anyone walking by to get a glimpse of the effect on young women’s bottoms.

She had no qualms about the documentation and photographing, on one condition, that she was allowed to keep copies for a separate folder herself.

As she spoke, her eyes seemed to drift towards the window, as if she was fantasizing about the ordeal, and the opportunity to follow through with it.

Mr Robertson was utterly impressed by the woman for her imagination, and he had a sneaky suspicion she spoke of personal experience. With that, the matter was settled and he picked up the phone. This woman would no doubt serve as a powerful ally, and perhaps in need of some special attention herself, should she step out of line…