Story from Fessee 10.
A Perfect Position
by Camilla Hope
IN HIS YOGA CLASSES, Hensai seldom spoke. His cane did all the talking. Long, lithe and supple, it disciplined the recalcitrant bodies of a dozen young ladies, all attempting to achieve the perfect pose.
Buttocks of all shapes and sizes reached for the sky in the 'plough' posture, spread generously in the 'cat,' wobbled enticingly in the 'golfer' and firmed out admirably in the 'pendulum'. If Hensai was amused or titillated by the sight, he gave no sign. Calmly, with a deft flick of the right wrist, born out of years of practice, he stung the backsides of those holding a position that reached short of perfection. Only a faultless asana would escape his silent, yet effective, reprimand.
Classes were held in a large studio attached to Hensai's Victorian mansion. At one end of the studio was a platform where he would demonstrate each asana for the benefit of his students. This was done slowly, deliberately and expertly, so that there could be little doubt in the minds of his acolytes as to what was expected of them. When he had finished his demonstration, the students moved slowly into position, whilst his keen, watchful eye regarded each one critically in turn. Only when the movement was complete, and each student had settled into the posture, did he step down from the platform and make his way around the immobile forms. He used his cane to correct any errors, and then metered out a single stroke with a force appropriate to the magnitude of correction needed, upon the unfortunate posterior of the miscreant.
You might be forgiven for thinking that only a very select few would have the courage to return week after week for the sting and humiliation of having their rumps publicly admonished for slackness, lack of attention or ineptitude. Not so. Hensai's classes were ever popular and always full. He never needed to advertise. Students came by recommendation, but were only accepted after an interview with the Master himself. Each prospective student was left in no doubt as to the nature and efficacy of the tuition, and signed a 'contract' accepting the terms and conditions, and an undertaking never to reveal the methods personally devised by Hensai himself. Any betrayal of this contract would result in instant dismissal from the course and a permanent ban from the 'school'.
It was only by the fortuitous emigration to New Zealand by a student that Margot was invited to join the beginner's class. Introduced by a long-standing, disciple and stalwart member of the advanced class, a few probing questions satisfied Hensai that Margot was of sufficient calibre to withstand the rigours of the strict discipline necessary for the practice of yoga.
New students were always 'worked in' lightly. As their bodies and limbs grew more supple and pliable, more was demanded of them, but for the first few weeks, all that Hensai asked was that the student worked to the best of her ability. The cane still controlled, but gently; gradually accustoming the acolyte to its encouraging 'kiss' across her rear quarters. Pain was not the purpose of Hensai. Yoga is a gentle form, and it was only when a student had reached the stage of possessing the ability to perform an asana fully correctly, yet insulted the form through laziness or inattention, that the full potential of the cane was felt.
In keeping with Hensai's insistence on discipline, all the students wore the same black leotards cut high over the hips, offering scant protection to the buttocks encased only in royal blue, footless tights. No under-wear was allowed; it marred the linear perfection of the human body, Hensai had explained patiently to those who questioned his decision.
Margot joined the class, and for several weeks worked conscientiously on all the asanas, practising daily at home, so that gradually her stiff limbs eased, her joints ceased to creak, and the relatively simple postures of the beginner's class became almost second nature. She was determined too that Hensai's cane never had cause to come into contact with her buxom rear quarters and, initially, she sensed that Hensai was well pleased with her progress.
In the changing room after each class, the other students rubbed their backsides ruefully and examined the pinkened cheeks, comparing notes and accusing Hensai of favouritism whenever one student had a noticeably redder bottom than anyone else. Margot's remained lily-white, and this came in for a certain amount of resentment as well. Disparaging remarks about cowardice came her way; how she should take greater risks and tempt providence, instead of remaining a 'goody two-shoes' and escaping penalty. It simply wasn't playing the game! Chastened, Margot promised to do worse, yet when it came to the crunch, she matched Hensai's standards of perfection, and simply could not bring herself to fall short of his requirements. Deep down too, she was scared, and knew only too well that she was putting off the evil moment; the sharp sting of Hensai's cane across her reluctant backside!
* * *
One wet and windy Friday evening, Margot arrived at the class tired after a hard week at the office. The other students were tired and fractious too, and Hensai's cane was wielded with greater abandon that evening than Margot had ever witnessed before. For the first time, she felt the cane nudge her into the correct position, and the whack across her exposed rump brought tears of mortification into her eyes and a flush to her cheek. An approving glance from the student next to her told her that at last she had been accepted as one of them, and as a slow warmth penetrated the affected area, her fear of corporal punishment diminished.
At the end of each class came a ten-minute period of deep relaxation. A tape of tidal waves ebbing and flowing onto a beach was played, encouraging each student to relax fully and completely, and to forget their problems in the outside, everyday world. As Margot sank into a wonderfully relaxed state, she became aware of a faint snoring coming from the student next to her. Someone falling asleep in Hensai's class! Surely this wasn't possible! Helen was still asleep when the relaxation period was over, and everyone had stretched their limbs back into life again, and filed out quietly into the changing room. One look at Hensai's stern face provoked no comment from the ladies as they left: they all knew that such a misdemeanour would most certainly call for an extra period of 'private tuition', of a kind reserved only for the most deserving.
Margot was halfway home when she realised that she had left her umbrella in the changing room. Although it had stopped raining, she was reluctant to leave it behind and risk losing it, so she retraced her steps back to the studio. She was surprised to find the front door still unlocked: the corridor leading to the changing room was dark, but the light shining through the half-glazed studio door enabled her to find her way. Stealthily, she crept towards the door, anxious not to be seen, and then stopped dead in her tracks.
A quick glance through the glass showed Helen completely naked, in the plough position, having her over-ripe bottom firmly dealt with by a wicked-looking paddle wielded by Hensai.
Fascinated, Margot continued to peer through the glass, keeping as much out of sight as possible. Little had she realised before how perfect the 'plough' was for such a punishment! Flat on her back, Helen's legs were raised from the waist in a shoulder stand, then passed right over the torso with her feet touching the ground some distance beyond her head. Her generous cheeks formed the apex of the triangle, right on target for chastisement. Even better, the recipient could watch the punishment being delivered! Each time the paddle descended, Helen gave a shriek before it even came into contact with her flesh. Then as it hit its mark, her shriek turned into a howl of anguish and she begged Hensai over and over again to stop. Tall and firm, he continued to belabour her quivering, reddened cheeks without mercy, each stroke in tune with a true perfectionist in the art; each wallop greeting its target accurately, so that the entire region was well and truly covered, but once only.
As a grand finale, he laid aside the paddle, picked up the cane and delivered one swift cut right across both cheeks, producing instantly a livid weal, and a heightened screech of protest from Helen.
Sensing that things were coming to an end, Margot quickly dived into the changing room, rescued her umbrella and fled from the annex as fast as she could possibly run.
For a while, it shamed her that witnessing Helen's punishment had produced an arousal more profound than she'd ever experienced before. 'Pervert', she muttered to herself as she ran most of the way home. But deep down inside she now knew just where her own fulfilment lay, and she was determined to achieve it one day very soon.
* * *
The following week before the yoga class, in spite of curiosity and questioning in the changing room, Helen gave nothing away much to everyone's disappointment. She privately planned to have the monopoly of Hensai's attention in 'private tuition' for as long as possible, and no way was she going to reveal the details to encourage the others! She hadn't reckoned on Margot though. That young lady was particularly observant in class that week. For the first time, she noticed that the other students deliberately made mistakes in order to feel the stroke of Hensai's cane. And this week, it seemed as though some of the young ladies were bending over backwards to incur Hensai's annoyance as frequently as possible. At the end of the session, the Master broke his habit of silence and gave the class a severe reprimand.
'The general standard of this class is falling, and I will not tolerate such laxity. I intend to make an example of you.' His eyes roamed severely round the room and alighted on Jane, who had already received more than here fair share of the cane during the lesson.
'Step up to the platform, Jane,' commanded Hensai in a voice of steel.
Trying to seem reluctant and apologetic, she obeyed. 'I'm sorry,' she murmured, as she approached him. 'I promise that I'll do better next week.'
'And so you shall,' replied Hensai. 'But first a reprisal is due for this week. Bend over.'
With her upturned rear end facing the class, she braced herself for the punishment due. Hensai raised his arm and delivered six sharp cuts with the cane in swift succession.
As each blow fell, Jane gasped out loud with the pain and rocked forward on her heels. She could have refused to have taken her punishment and just walked right out of the door, but that would have been too humiliating in front of a class watching with expectant desire and envy. But it was obvious too that it really hurt; quite a far cry from the relatively gentle tap they all experienced on occasion during the lesson itself.
When Hensai had finished and allowed Jane to return to her place on the floor, he demanded whether anyone else would like to step up and receive the same. No one volunteered.
'In future, poor inattentive work in class will result in my choosing one of you to be severely punished. And to ensure that standards are kept high, I shall pick the least deserving among you. You will then be individually responsible for ensuring that no one else in the class is punished for your own misdemeanours. In plain English, the more any individual tries to goad me into giving you the kind of punishment which I know full well you enjoy, the least likely it will be by my own hand. Is that quite clear?'
The class with one accord mutually nodded their assent and Hensai curtly dismissed them.
Margot was now in something of a quandary. If she kept up her struggle for perfection, so that she was admonished by the cane the least frequently in class, she knew only too well that she'd be the victim on the platform. Yet once again, she was aroused at seeing Jane get her just desserts, and part of her longed for the same expert attention.
* * *
The following week, a slightly subdued class worked its way more competently at the asanas under Hensai's watchful gaze. It was noticeable that his cane descended less frequently on upturned rumps than in previous weeks, as the entire class genuinely strived for perfection. Whether it was through an individual desire to be called to account on the platform or through a genuine collective effort not to incur Hensai's wrath, we shall never know. Then Susan, the most recent member of the class, spoilt it all. She suddenly developed a fit of the giggles, which rapidly infected everyone else. In doing a head-stand, she had fallen on top of the girl in front of her, who did the same, causing most of the row to collapse like an ungainly heap of cards.
As the class struggled to regain control, Hensai strode up onto the platform. 'Enough!' he barked. 'All stand facing me.' Promptly, the ladies obeyed. Surely now they were all going to be dismissed from the school for good!
Hensai strode over to a corner cupboard and removed a thick leather tawse. He motioned the first student in front to climb the platform. 'Spread you legs, bend over and grasp your ankles,' he commanded in a voice which brooked no disobedience. She obeyed, and three punishing thwacks were delivered right across her exposed rear quarters. Red-faced, she stepped down, and the second student took her place and received the same treatment. That week, there were ten ladies in all, and each one regretted in turn having been led astray by Susan. The latter, of course, was the only one not to be called up onto the platform. True to his word, Hensai was not going to allow the culprit to enjoy the punishment.
If they all thought that that was the end of the matter, they were quite wrong. After the relaxation session, Hensai ordered them to sit in a semi-Lotus position. His eyes then rested on Margot and her heart sank. In spite of not having tried harder than the rest, she had needed no prompting from the cane that evening, and this, she knew now, meant trouble.
Reluctantly, she stood up and walked onto the platform. They had recently mastered the 'Salutation to the Sun' series of asanas, and he made her adopt one of them as being a highly suitable position for punishment. With her feet apart, resting firmly on the ground, she had to place her hands on the floor some distance in front, so that she formed a neat triangle with the floor as base. Her tights were stretched over her generous rump, and Margot doubted very much whether they would offer any real protection at all from the beating to come. She prayed that he wasn't going to use the cane; anything but that! She had seen the effect only too well after one stroke on Helen's backside!
Her relief when Hensai picked up the tawse again was short-lived. He began systematically at the top of her left buttock and worked his way downwards, thoroughly and evenly. Each stroke kindled a painful fire that Margot, in all her wildest imagination, had never dreamed of. His precision was masterly; never covering the same spot twice, yet not missing out a single square inch. At each stroke, her bottom quivered in protest, and she used every bit of control in her possession to stop herself from yelling out in anguish. This, she was determined to take stoically. The punishment was unfair, and she was certainly not going to give the rest of the class the satisfaction of knowing that the beating was almost beyond endurance. Manfully, she took it, even suppressing a gasp when Hensai delivered a final cut neatly on her inner thighs before more gently working his way between the two moons to the right buttock. Pain and pleasure rolled into one! The arousal that Margot was experiencing was not in the least subdued by the deep, throbbing heat that began spreading across her chastised bottom in a wide, painful liquid flame, that threatened to engulf her totally. It was over at last, and Hensai helped her to stand upright. Furious, humiliated and aroused at the same time, Margot wanted to strangle him. Instead, she bowed in the prescribed manner and thanked him for her punishment. The class watched silently as she slowly and painfully made her way out to the changing room.
In spite of being the first in, she was the last one out. The girls had gathered around to admire the livid red weals, which throbbed and burned until Margot took a cold shower to calm down the affected area. By the time she had patted herself dry, the others had left, and the studio was silent. Standing naked in front of the long mirror examining the damage for herself, there was an unexpected knock on the door. Hensai opened it and walked in.
'I thought that you might need this.' In his hand he held a large jar of cream. Margot juggled with her small towel trying to cover herself from his appraising gaze.
There was a long couch at one end of the changing room. He motioned her towards it and made her lie face down.
'You bore your punishment well,' he said. 'I'm very pleased with you.' Gently, he massaged in the cool, soothing cream and gradually the burning subsided. Lulled into a pleasant calmness by Hensai's administrations, she allowed him to take her further; to transport her to heights she had never previously reached, and suddenly the punishment seemed worthwhile. No sense of injustice remained. Just a perfect, complete union between herself and Hensai, which she wished would continue for ever!