Miss Bradbury

Mavis Bradbury stood at the window of her ground floor study in the old school building.

It had been a trying morning. First there had been a problem with the school boiler, an antiquated and temperamental brute that only seemed to respond to the ministrations of Mr Hargreaves, the odd-job man, who happened to be away that day. Eventually his sidekick, the repellent Timms, had been able to fix the problem and supplies of hot water were restored but not before much dissatisfaction had been expressed by some of the senior girls.

Then Miss Bradbury had been obliged to listen to a long and involved tirade from the Bursar, Mr Pring, who objected to what he regarded as the unmethodical approach of his sworn enemy, Miss MacIntosh the school secretary, toward the ordering of text books.

Mr Pring was in his late sixties and Miss MacIntosh well over seventy.

Finally, a telephone call from a parent with some trifling complaint about her daughter’s treatment at the hands of Matron had nearly caused Miss Bradbury to lose her temper and it was only with a great effort that she restrained herself from slamming down the receiver.

Now she was gazing out over the cloisters and attempting to regain her composure. As she did so she spotted an unusual movement and saw a girl pop out from behind one of the pillars. What attracted Miss Bradbury’s attention was something indefinably furtive about the girl’s movements. She now recognized her as Sally Dawson, a sixth former who should have been out on the hockey field practising for the inter-house hockey competition.

Miss Bradbury nipped smartly out of her study, down the passage and out into the quadrangle where she was just in time to see Sally disappear, like the white rabbit in Alice in Wonderland, through the archway that led to Swinburne House.

As she slipped in through the front entrance of her house Sally Dawson thought she had been rather clever to bunk off hockey practice. She carried a satchel over her shoulder so that, if she was spotted, it would look as though she had left something behind. Girls were not allowed into their dormitories during the day but the tiny, three-bed dorm that she shared with Helen Williams and Lucy Small was right at the top of the house and on the far side of the linen room so she knew nobody would be likely to come up there. Having climbed the three flights of stairs she tiptoed through the deserted linen room, quietly opened the door of her dorm and, after closing it behind her, flopped onto her bed in triumph.

Her heart was beating fast and she was already feeling a little moist between the legs; partly because of the excitement of breaking school rules and partly at the thought of what she was about to do.

She opened her satchel and removed two objects. One was a framed photograph and the other was a little silver vibrator. She had cut the photograph out of a magazine. It was an advertisement for jeans and showed a very handsome young man stripped to the waist and with the top button of his jeans undone so that the waistband of his underpants just showed. Sally found the rippling muscles of his torso and the prominent bulge at the front of his jeans very arousing, as no doubt the advertiser had intended. She and Lucy had acquired the vibrator during the school holidays. The advertisement had said that it was intended for massaging the neck and shoulders to relieve rheumatism but Lucy and Sally had heard that some women had found a very different and altogether more pleasurable use for such devices.

Sally was wearing school uniform: white blouse, grey pleated skirt and black lisle stockings. She now sat on the floor of the dormitory with her back against the bed and the framed picture propped up on the floor in front of her. She eagerly pulled her skirt up to her waist, revealing her stocking tops, suspenders and white nylon knickers. Senior girls were allowed to wear these when they reached the sixth form, in place of the standard dark blue cotton ones

She spread her knees and picked up the vibrator.

Holding it very close to, but not quite touching, her clitoris she revelled in the anticipation of pleasure to come before, very slowly and gently, pressing the tip firmly against her knickers and feeling a surge of pleasure suffuse her whole abdomen. The thin material of her knickers seemed to enhance and spread the tingling sensation.

Pausing for a moment she unbuttoned her blouse and, slipping her arms behind her back, undid the catch of her bra. Quickly reapplying the vibrator to the, by now very wet, gusset of her knickers she used her other hand to tease one of her nipples so that it became fully erect and added to the intense pleasure that the vibrator was already generating.

As she felt herself nearing orgasm she slipped the implement inside her knickers and inserted the quivering shaft into her tight, compliant quim.

So immersed was she in her own world of carnal pleasure that she did not hear the door open. Miss Bradbury stood for a moment taking in the scene and, at the very moment of climax, Sally became aware of her. Her cry of pleasure merged into a scream of horror. She swiftly withdraw the vibrator but could not prevent the whole lower part of her body jerking in a series of involuntary, orgasmic spasms.

“And what precisely do you think you are doing?” The question was, of course, superfluous but it was the quiet tone in which it was spoken that sent a shiver of fear through Sally. Miss Bradbury was famous for her outbursts of rage but it was when she was, as now, ice cool and white with anger that she was at her most dangerous.

After a long pause Miss Bradbury held out her hand and snapped, “give me that … that thing.” With shaking hands Sally handed her the little silver object, still buzzing incongruously

“And the picture!”

Sally handed it over as Miss Bradbury fumbled with the switch on the implement and finally succeeded in quieting it.

“You will report to me in my study in half an hour’s time.”

With that Miss Bradbury turned on her heel, leaving Sally in a sweating panic of fear and humiliation.

Sally was glad that most of the girls were on the sports field which meant that her visit to Miss Bradbury’s room might not become general knowledge, or at least not yet. She knew she was in for a very serious punishment but she still hoped that she might be able to keep it quiet from the rest of the school.

She grabbed a clean pair of white knickers from her shelf in the linen room, took off the damp ones and stuffed them into her bedside locker. Girls were forbidden to help themselves to items from the linen room – it was the housekeeper, Mrs Ryland’s, job to lay them out each morning – but in view of the trouble she was in Sally wasn’t prepared to worry about that. She slipped on the clean pair and made her way down to the cloisters where she spent a miserable twenty minutes pretending to read the notices on the various notice boards whilst she contemplated what awful punishment Miss Bradbury would impose. She was pretty sure it would be twelve strokes of the senior cane; the maximum allowed.

With her heart racing Sally made her way to Miss Bradbury’s room and, full of trepidation, knocked on the door. There was a long pause – a common tactic of the headmistress’s – before the peremptory “come in.” Sally entered.

Miss Bradbury was sitting at her desk with her spectacles on the tip of her nose, writing in a large book. After what seemed an eternity she carefully put the top on her fountain pen and laid it on the desk. After another long pause she pushed up her glasses, looked intently at Sally and said, “I am very disappointed in you, Dawson.” The use of surname was a really bad sign; Miss Bradbury usually called her “Sally”.

“Yes Miss Bradbury.”

“I assume you do not deny that you were indulging in self-abuse when I found you just now?”

Sally blushed bright red, “No Miss Bradbury.”

“So, not only did you absent yourself from hockey practice without permission but you did so in order to masturbate, a most disgusting and perverted practice that even the lowliest shop girl would be ashamed of. What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I was desperate for relief Miss Bradbury.”

“Desperate for relief!” Sally thought Miss Bradbury was going to explode. “Desperate for relief! Now just you listen to me my girl. Your parents have sent you here to Saint Olive”s – at considerable expense incidentally – so that you may be taught to behave like a lady. You come from an aristocratic family and you will yourself one day become part of the aristocracy. When you marry, and not before, it will be necessary for you enter into sexual relations with your husband so that you may bear children and continue your line. Unfortunately, sexual intercourse is necessary if one is to procreate. It can, I believe even be pleasurable, at least for a man, but no lady should even think about it until her wedding day and only then as a matter of duty. By telling me that you were “desperate for relief” you demonstrate that you have the morals and self-control of a common slut! The fact that you have clearly gone to the trouble of obtaining this ‘implement'” – Miss Bradbury enunciated the word with the utmost distaste, picking up the item in question between finger and thumb as she did so and allowing it to dangle for a moment before dropping it – “only indicates that you have descended to a level of depravity that I would not have thought possible for a pupil of this school.”

Even in her misery Sally felt that Miss Bradbury was overdoing it. After all, this was 1953 and the newspapers often carried reports about members of the aristocracy, even female members of it, who seemed really quite keen on sexual intercourse. She had on one occasion inadvertently heard her parents making love and to judge by the unrestrained moans of pleasure her mother seemed definitely to have been enjoying it.

“I have no alternative,” Miss Bradbury continued, “but to ensure that you are punished with maximum severity both to ensure that you do not even think of repeating the offence and also to demonstrate to the rest of the school what lies in store for them should they too consider indulging in the wicked vice of masturbation. You will receive twelve strokes of the senior cane in front of the entire sixth form. They will be delivered by Mr Timms.”

Sally gasped in horror. She had expected twelve strokes but she had not expected them to be in public; she could only remember one previous occasion when a girl had been punished in this way. But the worst thing, the thing that made all other aspects of her punishment pale into insignificance, was that she was to be caned by Timms! The odd job man was, in her view, almost sub human but he was also very strongly built. She had sometimes seen him stripped to the waist as he shovelled coke from the large pile outside the boiler house. He seemed to sense that the glistening sweat exaggerated the contours of his rippling muscles and he would often leer at the girls as they walked past. To have to expose herself to the tender mercies of such a creature was unthinkable.

“Please, Miss Bradbury,” she pleaded, “please don’t let Timms cane me.”

“There are no female staff members whom I consider strong enough to punish you as you deserve. You would normally be caned on the bare but in this case you may, of course, wear a pair of knickers.”

Sally could hardly believe her ears. She had assumed that she would at least be allowed to wear a skirt but it seemed that despite her strict sense of propriety Miss Bradbury was to allow Timms to see her in her knickers. She shuddered at the thought. But further remonstrance was impossible as Miss Bradbury cut off all her protestations.

“You will now go and wait in your dormitory.” She snapped, “you will stay there until this evening when I shall send for you. Your punishment will not be pleasant. It will be both painful and humiliating, as it is intended to be. I suggest that while you are waiting you contemplate the wickedness of your actions and resolve never to indulge in such unhealthy activity again. Ever!

***

Of course it is impossible in a girls’ school for anything to remain unknown for long and within the hour the news had spread like wildfire and the whole school was alight with a sense of dread tempered by excitement:

“Sally Dawson’s been caught wanking.”

“She’s to get the cane.”

“In public!”

“Somebody told me Timms is going to do it. Timms!”

“Gosh, the poor girl!”

“I think she deserves it, she’s always been a bit stuck up.”

“You’ve never liked her.”

And so on.

At evening roll call Sally’s name was tactfully omitted and afterwards Miss Bradbury spoke to the assembled school:

“I am sorry to have to tell you that a member of the sixth form has committed a very serious breach of the school rules and is to be punished this evening. I am not prepared to go into detail but the prefects will be able to explain to you what is meant by “self-abuse”. You will be able hear punishment taking place. You may find this upsetting, in which case I urge you to remind yourselves that this is what will happen to you should you be tempted to indulge in such a sinful practice.

Now, all of you except sixth formers and members of the Long Dorm will file out in an orderly fashion and get ready for bed.”

When the younger girls had filed out in awed silence Miss Bradbury addressed the remainder.

“You senior girls will remain dressed and proceed to the Long Dorm, where you will wait for me.”

***

Sally had spent a miserable couple of hours in her own small dormitory. She had tried to read but could think of nothing but the horrors to come. Eventually she heard footsteps approaching and two girls entered without knocking. One was Susan Francis, the Head Girl. She was a rather unattractive, but very clever girl with mousy hair, little wire-rimmed glasses and fat legs. The other was Fiona Plessington who was the reverse: slim, blonde and one of the prettiest girls in the school. She nursed a deep hatred for Sally, whom she felt had ousted her in the affections of Miss Scobie, the dashing games mistress. It was a cause of great pleasure to her that she had been made a prefect whilst Sally had not and she was keen to rub this in whenever possible.

Fiona was in a high state of glee as she entered the room.

“Well, well! Miss Clever Clogs has finally been caught out has she? Caught having a wank eh?

And a public flogging, oh dear! Of course you know that they want to frighten the little girls by making them listen to you screaming? Of course Timms is an absolute animal so it’s probably best to make plenty of noise right from the beginning, then he might go easy on you.”

Fiona was really enjoying herself but Susan Francis interrupted her and, addressing Sally said, “take off your skirt and knickers Dawson.”

“But I’m to be allowed to keep my knickers on,” spluttered Sally.

“You are to be allowed to wear knickers but not your own. We’ve brought a special pair for you.” So saying she held out a pair of white panties.

Very reluctantly Sally removed her skirt, slipped off her own knickers and took the proffered pair.

“But these are much too small!”

Fiona giggled. “Not too small. I”m sure you can get into them alright, but they’ll certainly be very tight. Of course,” she added, “I think that’s the idea.”

Sally realised that it was useless to protest and, very conscious of two pairs of eyes watching her, wiggled into the garment. The material was quite stretchy so she got them on easily enough but she was conscious of the fact that they were tightly stretched and the outline of her buttocks must be clearly visible.

“Lovely,” said Fiona and pulled up the waistband to tauten the material even more then ran her hand across the smooth surface of Sally’s bottom. She even, to Sally’s immense disgust, allowed her fingers to trail teasingly up the front. Susan Francis noticed this and rapidly put a stop to Fiona’s taunting enjoyment of the situation.

“Come on! Miss Bradbury will be ready for us downstairs.”

Standing on either side of her Susan and Fiona led Sally downstairs to the Long Dorm. As the name suggested this was a long, narrow room with a door at each end and about ten beds ranged along each wall. It was intended for older girls and was located centrally in the building. The doors at each end led to various junior dormitories. Sally noticed that these doors had been left open and she knew that all the doors of the junior dorms would also be ajar so that the inmates would be able to hear the proceedings quite clearly.

When the three girls entered they saw that the occupants of the Long Dorm were all fully dressed and standing by their beds. In the centre of the room was a long, narrow bench at the corners of which stood four hefty sixth-formers, all members of the school hockey team. Matron, in uniform, was standing nearby and Miss Bradbury was seated at one end of the room with a group of prefects and sixth-formers standing behind her. But it was the sight of Timms which caused Sally to gasp with horror. He was wearing a pair of track suit bottoms and a singlet which left his powerful forearms and biceps bare. In his hands he held the senior cane ¬- a three-foot rattan brute – which he was flexing whilst watching Sally lasciviously. Clearly he was relishing the task ahead.

“On the bench please Sally,” rapped out Miss Bradbury, although Sally couldn’t help noticing that she had reverted to the use of her Christian name. Reluctantly she lowered herself face-down onto the bench, very conscious of the fact that her blouse did not even reach her waist. She felt four pairs of hands firmly grasp her wrists and ankles. There was a long silence and then Sally heard the squeak of Miss Bradbury’s shoes as she walked very slowly across the room. Miss Bradbury slipped her fingers inside the waistband of Sally’s knickers drawing them a little tighter into her crotch and then smoothing them with the palm of her hand. Once she was satisfied the silence was again broken by the sound of her footsteps as she returned to her chair.

“Very well Mr Timms, you may begin.”

Timms contemplated the tightly-knickered bottom with satisfaction. He was going to enjoy this. He laid the cane on Sally’s tense buttocks, slowly drew it upwards and then whipped it violently downwards. There was a loud swish followed by a smack as the cane hit the tightly stretched nylon but Sally only let out a grunt. To her surprise the stroke had hardly hurt at all. She awaited the next but it did not come. About twenty seconds elapsed before she began to feel a searing pain in her nether regions and it was at this moment that the second stroke fell. She let out a gasp of disbelief as the third stroke fell intensifying the pain and she realized that her agony was being orchestrated by Miss Bradbury who, with refined sadism, was instructing Timms exactly when to apply each stroke.

Sally had vowed that she would not give Fiona the satisfaction of hearing her scream but any such resolve was forgotten as the fourth stroke fell and she broke completely, letting out a howl of pain.

Apart from Fiona Plessington nobody was enjoying the spectacle of Sally’s punishment, except perhaps Miss Bradbury, although her features remained stern and expressionless. All the other girls, even the sixth-formers, watched the proceedings with varying degrees of horror and in the junior dormitories the younger girls quaked in the darkness as they listened to Sally’s pitiful sobbing punctuated by her increasingly hysterical screams.

Even Timms, who was well aware of the disdain in which he was held by the girls and had initially enjoyed the sight of the “stuck-up little bitch” writhing in her knickers, felt that the punishment had gone far enough after six strokes. Matron too attempted to intercede but was overruled by Miss Bradbury.