F/M Sunday and a schoolboy caning

Our story today comes courtesy of an author named simply “Robert.” It’s a vivid account of an incident between a young man and his matron, the house tutor at an English boarding school..


William Fraser, a tall fair haired 17 year old, stood outside the wood panelled door which bore the name Miss Rosemary Green, House Tutor. William knew, as any boy at Smeldon Magna would have known, that a summons to the House Tutor’s study meant one thing and only one thing – a caned bottom! William, therefore, had plenty to think about as he waited to be called in. He tried hard not to think about what would happen to him once in the study but to no avail, William could think only of the swish of the cane followed by the vicious THWACK across his bottom guaranteed to pop his eyes out of his head. William knew that, after a brief, merciful numbness, a wicked stinging pain would well up from deep in his buttocks before, swish, WHACK, the next stroke was delivered! Poor William had good reason to believe she would give him six such strokes before his punishment was over. Six strokes taken on a tight bottom as he bent over and clasped his ankles. William was not a happy boy! He went over in his mind the chain of events which had brought him to this lonely contemplative vigil. A chain which had begun four years ago when he stood, desolate and abandoned, outside the Junior House and watched his mother, draped in furs, as she drove the Bentley down the school drive and headed for home.

Smeldon Magna was a minor Public School (i.e. a fee paying private school) of some 500 pupils. All were boarders and aged between 13 and 17 and all were boys. The school governors and senior teachers recognized the civilizing influence which women have on an otherwise exclusively male environment and, while not yet ready to embrace co-education, had taken the radical step of appointing a few woman teachers over the past 4 or 5 years. One of the first to be appointed had been Rosemary who was a year out of college and, after gaining experience in a junior school for girls, had applied to Smeldon Magna to widen her professional skills in the foreign and challenging atmosphere of a boys’ boarding establishment. Rosemary was a fast learner and, indeed, had she not been she might well have failed to survive a year as the only female member of staff. She was a kindly young woman who appreciated the difficulty some young boys encountered during their first few weeks at a strange school and made it her function to look out for and support any lads who seemed to be suffering. The house tutor, Mr. Parkinson, had asked her to take the new boys under her wing and in so doing she and William first met. She found him a nice quiet polite boy and he adored her from the start. Rosemary, in her first couple of terms, had confirmed her view that children were children, whether boys or girls, and generally they sought to please. Of course there were naughty boys, there were lazy boys, there were precocious old beyond their years boys but all in all she found them if anything somewhat easier to control than girls. Mr. Parkinson had made clear to her that, new and inexperienced though she was, she would be expected to maintain discipline in the house and, if necessary award and carry out punishment. He would not expect her to bring boys to him and, provided things were in order, he would not breathe down her neck.

William, standing waiting to be caned, remembered when Rosemary had first had occasion to discipline him! It had been a typical bit of schoolboy mischief but clearly in breach of the rules. William, and more importantly, some other boys were aware that Rosemary knew of his misconduct and therefore turning a Nelsonian blind eye was not an option. He needed punishment and she knew she had to administer it. She gave thought to the nature of his offence and the appropriate punishment and decided that, whilst not the crime of the century, it must be made clear to William and his chums that he had not got away with it. Rosemary decided, calmly and objectively, that she had little choice but to smack his bottom! It would be her first and, apart from nursery spankings, it would be his first too. It would be a significant event for both of them and one they would both remember.

It was the practice in the Junior House for the Tutor or the assistant to take evening prayers at bedtime. All the house were gathered in the Common Room, prayers were said, a hymn or two sung and announcements were made before the lads were sent, chattering like a bunch of boisterous monkeys, off to wash and get ready for bed. There was only one announcement that evening – “I want to see William Fraser in my study after prayers”. A tremor of vicarious anticipation went through the assembled boys and hungry, inquisitive eyes were turned on William who experienced a cold dread in the pit of his stomach. Rosemary, having taken the step of sending for him and knowing she had no way out, went to her study to plan the interview. She was a professional and though she would have given anything to avoid this chore she knew she could not. She looked around her little room, placed a chair in the middle of the room and, where it could not be missed, put her wooden backed Barr’s hairbrush on the seat of the chair. She sat behind her desk and prepared herself for the coming ordeal which she did not relish but which she knew she had to face. There came a timid knock at the door. “One moment, please” said Rosemary!

Young William, at 13, was still somewhat naïve and, unlike his classmates, did not automatically presume that the summons to Rosemary’s study meant a ‘beating’. His chums knew better and William was the object of undisguised interest as the boys left the common room to make their way to the changing rooms. They giggled and rubbed their bottoms theatrically as they watched him creep off towards the study. Rosemary had made the announcement in such neutral tones that he still found it difficult to believe what he now came to dread. ‘Miss’, the adorable ‘Miss’, was about to punish him! As we have seen he had, upon arrival outside the study, been bidden to wait and as he did so he became more and more convinced that it was going to be alright. He had done nothing that could persuade the gentle creature to punish him; at least he didn’t think so. Part of him didn’t think so. But part of him believed the other boys when they had told him no one went to the study at bedtime without returning with a very sore behind! “You’re for it” they had sniggered as he set off to meet his destiny. The more he waited the more of a turmoil he found himself in. That turmoil was resolved, sharply resolved, when eventually the door opened and Rosemary bade him “Come in William”.

As she held the door for him he entered the study with some foreboding. His knees nearly gave way and he noticeably wobbled as he saw, in front of him, the quite unambiguous sight of the chair and the hairbrush. Now, bless him, he knew the lads had been right when they gleefully told him “You’re for it!” William heard the door close behind him and trembled – he was for it – his lovely Miss Green was going to punish him. William stood meekly with his head bowed as Rosemary said, not unkindly, “Well now William you have got yourself into trouble, haven’t you?” “Yes, Miss” his voice was unsteady and his eyes strayed inevitably back to that chair. He was wondering not what was going to happen, that he knew, but when it was going to happen and how it would be done. Rosemary, when planning her first disciplinary spanking, had decided that what was important was that the occasion should have about it a sense of ritual. It should be an event that the culprit did not soon forget. She knew that parents could and did spank in anger, some might be appalled to think that but she knew it was true. Teachers, she felt, certain should do nothing of the sort. She had accepted when she entered the profession that from time to time it would fall to her to punish. There would be occasions of indiscipline for which no other penalty than a sore bottom would suffice. There might be recidivists who seemed unable to keep out of trouble and whose repeated misconduct led inevitably to punishment. There would be, as in the present case, boys who needed a short, sharp shock to bring them, as it were, to their senses. Rosemary liked William but recognised he was in immediate danger of falling in a pattern of naughtiness if he were not brought sharply to account. She scolded him firmly but kindly pointing out to him the error of his ways and the need for him to pull himself together. “Do you understand?” she asked “Yes, Miss” “And do you understand that you must be punished?” This latter question elicited a whispered response “Yes, Miss”. Rosemary took his arm. “Come with me, William” she said and turned towards the chair.

All Rosemary’s nervousness was now gone. She knew what she was going to do and how. She was certain that William was more nervous than she was! She sensed he would submit and take his spanking provided she did not in any way show him she was, or had been, apprehensive. Rosemary led him to the chair and, picking up the brush, seated herself. She was acutely aware of the lad watching her every move. She took a deep breath “Take down your trousers, William” she said and with some relief watched him fumble with his belt. No resistance, no protests, no pleas, William knew in his heart of hearts that this was what he deserved and that there was no one he’d rather be spanked by than Rosemary. He undid his trousers and, with a little wriggle, eased them over his hips. They fell to his ankles. He was totally reconciled to his fate. “William, I want you to place your hands on my lap, here, and bend over!” He did as he was bidden, placing his hands on her left thigh he gently lowered himself onto her soft, feminine lap. It felt, somehow, right to be there. It even seemed right when he felt Rosemary take hold of his underpants and ease them down over his bottom and onto his thighs. William looked at the carpet! Rosemary put her left hand on the bare skin of his right hip and held him there. “I shall give you 12 smacks with my hairbrush across your bottom, William, and I hope never to have to see you in this position again. Are you ready, William?” “Yes, Miss” and, do you know, he was!


Rosemary looked tenderly at the smooth cheeks of the boy’s fine, slim bottom. William rested submissively upon her right thigh, his hands holding her left. She raised her hairbrush. SMACK! With absolute confidence Rosemary delivered the very first smack of her teaching career and felt him twitch endearingly across her lap. She heard a gasp “Aaaah!” as the sting of the hairbrush made itself felt. SMACK!! Another gasp as a red blush began to manifest itself on each cheek of his bare bottom. Rosemary was satisfied she was doing this properly, giving the lad what he needed to bring him to his senses. SMACK !!! Not a brutal thrashing but a modest, controlled smacking, this was what she had decided to give the boy and the sound of the strokes, his gaps and the spreading blush told her she was doing well. SMACK !!!! Now his prostrate body tensed and jerked as he gave a little yelp of pain. SMACK!!!!! “Keep still, William!” “Yes, Miss” he croaked! SMACK !!!!!! Six, and six more to come. Rosemary, a gentle girl, felt sorry for the boy as she surveyed the now mottled cheeks of his bottom. She tried to imagine how he must be feeling and gave a little shiver of empathetic distress as she delivered number seven. SMACK ! she felt his fingers now digging into her thigh as he strained to control himself. He was hurting and so, inside, was she. SMACK, SMACK, SMACK!! William’s bottom was now very, very sore and he yelped aloud at the tenth stroke. He, wretched boy, had lost count but she, fortunately had not. SMACK! SMACK !! William lost control now and cried out in pain but it was over! He slumped across the lap of his goddess and she was content to leave him to collect himself as he lay, panting and gasping with little sobs. She could almost feel the throbbing in his bottom. She had given him a good and well deserved spanking! She had nothing to blame herself for. “When you are ready, William, you may get down!”

Later, much later, when William could hide from the prurient interest of his dormitory mates, he lay in the dark and thought about what had happened. He found himself stroking his bottom and almost relishing the warm, tingling throb. He thought back through every stage of his punishment, the scolding, that frightening instruction to take his trousers down, the feel of Miss Green’s lap as he lay there and she took his pants down! That had been deliciously scary! He had been totally hers to do with as she would and, then, those stingingly sharp smacks which had grown in intensity with each stroke. William, to his surprise, found himself fascinated by the whole thing! She had smacked his bare bottom, the sweet, beautiful Miss Green had smacked his bare bottom and he relished the memory. He found himself wondering when he would again find himself over her knee having his bare bottom smacked. . Oh, she was so wonderful, she could spank him when ever she wished! William drifted off to sleep feeling strangely fulfilled.

Rosemary had never had occasion to spank him again until now and this, William knew, was to be a caning!

Shortly after that spanking, William recalled as he stood outside her study, the paths followed by the gorgeous Miss Green and the rapidly maturing young man had diverged. He, at the end of his second term, went up to Senior School and to Brunell House. He had never again been in trouble until today he ruefully recalled. He had never forgotten his spanking over the luscious lap of the oh so nubile Miss Rosemary Green. For her part Rosemary was delighted, upon the appointment of Mr. Parkinson as Deputy Head Master, to be offered the post of Tutor of the Junior House. A well earned promotion at a very early stage in her career. Rosemary admitted to herself that she missed the charming young William, she, of course, taught him from time to time but she found herself yearning for the intimacy of their earlier relationship. She had, of course, had occasion to spank other Junior House boys and had done so with the professionalism the school, and the boys, had come to expect of her. Their spankings, she recognised, had been part of her job, not a chore, perhaps, but a duty that she would have preferred to avoid but could not. She spanked, forgave and forgot them! She did not, however, forget William or the feel of his body across her lap. Rosemary was startled to realise that she yearned for that slim, firm bottom; longed to once more to feel it bounce as his body writhed beneath her chastisement. She thought time and a cold shower might cure her but the image of a penitent William across her knee remained with her. And then, three years later, she was appointed Tutor of Brunell and in loco parentis once more to William Fraser. She was now 28 and he was 17 and nearly, but not quite, too old to have his bottom smacked!

All these memories flooded the fevered mind of Rosemary as she prepared to cane young William and that of William as he waited for her to cane him.

Rosemary got to her feet and opened the door. “Come in, William” and he entered looking around wildly for a sight of the dreaded cane! It was not evident. Rosemary closed the door and once again the sound of the latch clicking shut made him tremble. He clearly remembered the last time and, as then, he wondered feverishly how it would be done. Rosemary stood before him and gave him a considered telling off. She reminded him that he was now a senior boy and that his conduct today – and we do not need to concern ourselves with the details – ill befitted a boy of his seniority. He would be punished! “Yes, Miss” he whispered. “Come along, then” and he allowed himself to be taken to the chair over which he now knew he was to be caned. “Take down your trousers, William, and bend over holding the seat of the chair” “Yes, Miss” and, once again, she watched him prepare for punishment. He groaned, quietly but quite clearly, as his trousers settled once more around his ankles. William bent over and clutched the chair. Rosemary turned away and William watched her as she opened the door of a tall slim cabinet. He heard a strange rattling sound and, with a start, guessed was the sound of canes rattling together. His buttocks clenched!

Rosemary selected a 36″, 8 mm diameter standard school cane. A whippy rattan known to deliver a telling bite. She turned and came to him. Rosemary pulled his shirt up and, the cane brushing against him, she took his under pants in both hands and gently pulled them down off his bottom. William trembled with anticipation. “Six strokes, William” said Rosemary.


Rosemary, as we have seen, was not a dedicated disciplinarian but she firmly believed that some boys, and some girls too, deserved and benefited from a sore behind. As a student teacher she had learned about discipline and punishment, including corporal punishment, and how it should be applied. The school cane and its use had been an important topic not because the college expected its students to over-use it but because, when used, it had to be used effectively. On the bottom, never the hand, and with a maximum of six strokes ordained by law. Rosemary had studied the appropriate positioning of the culprit, she had trembled when it was pointed out that a tight bottom was essential if the sting was to be really appreciated and she learned the differing ideas about clothing. There were those who thought that trousers stretched tightly over the bottom increased the spread of the pain and others who advocated a bare bottom for its psychological impact! Girls were on no account to be caned on a full, loose skirt which would muffle the cane but rather upon their school knickers or, of course, their bare bottoms. Lastly and importantly she had learned how to aim the cane, where to stand in respect to the culprit’s bottom and how to achieve the desired occlusion of the far buttock by the nearer. Rosemary had learned all this and had practised on a dummy bottom watched by her fellow students. She had never before today had to address the cane to a real bottom. She deeply regretted that it should be William upon whose bottom she was to have her debut. Dear girl, she hoped he would forgive her.

Rosemary, desperately aware of her every move being watched by the waiting boy, took her place to his left side and adjusted her position so that his right buttock was just occluded by his left. He uttered a little moan of anticipation as she tapped his tight bottom and took her aim. Rosemary raised her cane and brought it down swish, whack across William’s bare bottom! The sensation was astonishing! First, perfectly placed across both cheeks, a wicked slashing cut which seemed near to cutting his bottom in half, William let out a startled yelp of pain, then, briefly, his bottom felt numbed until the deep penetrating pain welled up along the line of the stroke. Rosemary was astonished, but professionally pleased, at the effect of her cane on this naughty boy. She had to go on but knew that timing was the essential element in ensuring a meaningful and memorable caning.. She waited for the line of her first stroke to blanch and then turn a livid red. William bravely stayed in place but already, after only one, the sensitive girl knew he was in some considerable distress. She swallowed hard and raised the cane again. Two! Her aim, as a comparative ingenue, was nigh on perfect and her second stroke lay only centimetres away from the first, again poor William uttered a yelp and again the stripe blanched then blushed an angry red. William could not believe anything could hurt like this. William, motionless, bent forward offering his poor bottom for the third stroke was desperately aware of Rosemary, his soft and scented goddess, so close by his side. She took her aim again, raised her cane and, swish, whack she delivered her third stroke. This time the wretched boy yelled in genuine distress but bravely retained his penitent’s position. His bottom, now, was blushing red not only along the lines of the three strokes but generally around the caned area. Rosemary, unhappily, knew she was doing a good job. Gentle by nature she might be but she was a born professional determined to do well in all aspects of her chosen profession. William’s breath was now coming in rasping gulps as he struggled against the need to stand and clutch his blazing bottom. He swallowed hard and gripped the chair and waited for the divine Rosemary to deliver the fourth stroke. Swish, whack, she did and, with her new found skill, Rosemary laid it hard and straight alongside the first three. William, despite his every effort, could not stop himself from yelling out “Aaaahhh!” as her cane struck home on the already oh so tender flesh of William’s bare bottom. tumblr_o5a3n10x4r1v9q5b4o1_500He remained in place, despite his aching, stinging, throbbing bottom he remained bending over to allow her to complete the ordained six strokes. Poor Rosemary, every fibre of her being wanted to forgive him and forget the last two strokes but she knew she must not. Six strokes she had promised him and six strokes he must have. Lifting her cane again she gazed at the angry, purply-red weals and she placed the fifth diagonally across the cluster of stripes he already bore. William roared and came very close to standing up and covering his bottom but, once more, he bravely stayed put. He gulped and groaned, took a deep breath and pushed his bottom out once more. Rosemary gazed in wonder and some distaste at the havoc she had wrought on that fine bottom. She did not blame herself, of course not, she was only doing her duty and really believed that William would benefit in the long term from his thrashing. She raised her cane again and brought it down for the sixth and last stroke swish, whack! Again she laid it across the bruised and mottled stripes already discolouring William’s bottom. She turned away immediately she had seen the tortured bottom receive its final stroke but not quickly enough to fail to see the wretched boy’s body jolt with the impact. William groaned – but stayed in place. He had lost count! Rosemary replaced her cane in the cupboard and turned once more to William.

“Come here you silly, silly boy” she whispered. He stood up with some obvious difficulty. “Yes, Miss” he said and bent to recover his pants. He winced. “Come here, I’ll do that” and before they knew it he was in her arms and her gentle fingers, fingers which so recently had held that dreadful cane, were caressing his bottom. “Did I hurt you terribly?” asked Rosemary as she oh so gently eased his pants back over his bottom. The 11 years difference in their ages melted away as William, feeling strangely fulfilled, yet confused by mixed emotions, delighted in the warmth of her embrace as she held him to her. He could not forget the pain and disgrace of the sound beating he had so recently received but knew he had deserved it and somehow he relished the memory that it was she, the lovely Miss Green, who had beaten him. The young man was overwhelmed by a tender love and a deep, yearning desire. He lifted her face and she knew what he was going to do and welcomed his move.

They kissed.


2 responses to “F/M Sunday and a schoolboy caning

  1. Lovely story and I’m sure that it should be continued once William had left school and she was no longer his teacher but could till be his disciplinarian. They would both like that andf who knows where it might lead?


  2. Love the first part of this one which is highly charged for both protagonists,.and would have preferred it if he was going back for more of the same at the age of 17! The use of the cane in cp just leaves me cold.


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