It could only have been about fifteen minutes, but she couldn’t check her watch as she had her hands on her head, facing the wall, outside the headmistress, Miss Brigitte’s, office. Fifteen minutes, but it felt like an eternity.
She had started out fourth in a line of miscreants, and now it was down to her. Two girls had already come and gone, dispatched from the office in varying states of distress. Now it was the turn of the third girl, Roberta Jamison, and she had been in there an age. Sissy Miranda was musing on why this might be when, suddenly, the heavy mahogany door of Miss Brigitte’s study swung open, and out stepped Roberta. ‘Your turn now,’ mumbled the girl to Sissy Miranda, ‘she wants you in straightaway.’ Sissy Miranda turned round, managing to raise a brief half-smile to her tear-stained fellow, before knocking on the dreaded door herself.
Miss Brigitte was sitting behind her desk, a fine, crook-handled cane prominently on display before her. This was a weapon Sissy Miranda had become familiar with over the past few years – that and, of course, the strap. She did not know which she hated the most, but having tasted the bite of both, she was at least prepared for their sting: Miss Brigitte couldn’t really hurt her.
‘Well Sissy Miranda, I haven’t seen you in my office for a while,’ began Miss Brigitte. Sissy Miranda remained silent.
‘I assume you have a note?’ continued Miss Brigitte.
Sissy Miranda stepped forward and held out the note she had placed in the top pocket of her blazer.
‘Cat still got you tongue I see,’ went on the Head, as she picked up her glasses and read through the missive.
Sissy Miranda said nothing.
‘Well, this sounds like a very childish offence,’ asserted Miss Brigitte at last, surveying the tall fifth-former before her.
‘Go and fetch me that chair,’ she suddenly instructed, indicating a low wooden chair near the window, ‘and put it in front of the desk.’
Sissy Miranda didn’t move.
‘Do it, right now!’ commanded the Head.
Sissy Miranda’s feet obeyed, despite her mind reeling in confusion: this was not how she took the cane, or the strap for that matter.
Miss Brigitte stood up, waited for the chair to be settled, then sat down.
‘Come here and bend over my lap.’
Again, Sissy Miranda didn’t move.
‘Come here at once,’ continued Miss Brigitte, her voice rising to a crescendo, ‘or I will spank you harder and longer.’
Spank? Sissy Miranda was horrified: she had never been spanked before; never had to lie across the lap of the head mistress – this was too much.
‘Come here!’ ordered Miss Brigitte, and this time the girl did move, approaching the Head and then lowering herself carefully over her lap as indicated.
Before she could do anything else, Miss Brigitte had pulled back her skirt, pulled down her pink frilly panties and slammed her hand down hard on her behind.
‘Ow…ouch!’ issued from Sissy Miranda’s lips in shock, as another blow, and another rained down.
‘Be quiet!’ ordered Miss Brigitte, Sissy Miranda gritting her teeth as the blows increased in intensity; ‘This is not your place to speak!’