Friday, 18 May 2012

Strict Schooling

Story from Swish Vol.7 No.4

Strict Schooling

"I will leave you to it for the first couple of weeks, then, Jeremy", Hilda said to her nephew. As she spoke she gazed proudly out of the window of her old-style detached house at a large white board which had just been erected in the front garden. The bold black letters on it, in old-fashioned script, simply read: St. Hilda's - Prop. Mrs Hilda Birch. It gave her name a saintly air, she thought.

"Thank you, yes", Jeremy answered quietly. He was a tall young man – the sort that novelists used to call 'clean of limb'. He had left university three years ago to potter around, using an inheritance from his father. Then he had visited his aunt and from there on had begun to find himself in the midst of a new life. An ex-headmistress of a girls' private school, Hilda had decided views on the disciplining of young ladies.

"It's no use dealing with girls underage, Jeremy," she had lectured him, once she had expounded her basic philosophy to him, "The girls to take in hand are those who fritter away their time at discos and such and who seem nowadays to be able to evade parental discipline – or at least to receive so little that it really has no effect on them. They have to be drilled, you know", she had said, causing Jeremy to raise his eyebrows at first, but little by little her ideas had got through to him.

When his aunt had first shown him her little collection of canes and tease-whips, he had thought them fearsome looking instruments, but the more that she explained the techniques of using them, the more he understood. In the two months that had passed since he had stayed in her house, he had begun to admire her more and more. "You will consider me old-fashioned and out-of-date, Jeremy, but believe me there are young ladies out there just crying for the sort of attention they will receive here. It's rather like being in the Forces, you know. At first you resent being given orders, but then gradually you come to see it as a way of life, and you gain a certain pride in being moulded to a set routine. There is safety in it, I suppose".

Jeremy had never heard anyone talk in that way, and he was fascinated. In her early forties, as Hilda was, she could look at times extremely grim and forbidding. In private, though, she could show a warm womanliness, and a firm, ripe figure to go with it.

"I can see that", he had said slowly in response to her remark, "But surely these canes and small whips must hurt frightfully". The remark had brought a smile to Hilda's lips as they sipped after-dinner liqueurs. At the time of this conversation, Jeremy had only been with her for a week and knew little enough. "They could – but in proper hands cruelty is not applied. The actions are DISCIPLINARY, Jeremy. I want you to keep that word constantly in mind. Other terms are sometimes used. 'Training' is one. I do not object to that. The important thing is to show a caring attitude – perhaps you might even say a motherly one. There are times when no harm is done by comforting a girl after she has received bottom-treatment".

As she had spoken, Hilda had rolled a cane in the fingers of her free hand. Her other one held her glass elegantly. Ever since she had decided to open her house as a training college for young ladies, Hilda had started carrying one about. In anticipation, Jeremy had thought, and had felt a curious mingling of thrills and apprehension in him. It was an apprehension that Hilda had known she had to allay, and she did it that night in the boldest possible way.

Jeremy gave her a cue when he replied. "Yes, I know, but the fierce stinging, surely...." Hilda had put down her glass and had said, "Jeremy – get up, please". – "Eh?", he had answered nervously. His aunt was dressed rather severely that evening. She had kept her outdoor black boots on and wore a black knee-length skirt, a crisp close-fitting white blouse, and a tie that nestled between her imposing tits. – "I said, get up, Jeremy", she had repeated and rose to stand above him. Her skirt was thin and he could see the impress of her suspender clips through it. He knew that she always wore stockings. Often enough she left her bedroom door half open and he had frequently glimpsed her drawing them up her still-shapely legs.

What had happened in the ensuing ten minutes was something that Jeremy could still hardly believe. Taking his hand, she had led him firmly into the dining room and closed the door. Then, facing him and with her breasts rising and falling visibly beneath her blouse, she had said gently, "I am going to cane you, Jeremy – or rather, I am going to give you a FEEL of the cane. After all, if you are going to wield it on the naked bottoms of our students, then you have to know what it feels like".

"Here, I say!", he had expostulated. It seemed to him that he could see her nipples through her blouse and that they had grown more prominent even as she spoke. And at the same time she had turned him about, telling him sharply to bend over the end of the long dining room table.

That he had obeyed her was itself ridiculous, but that she had then calmly unzipped and unbelted his trousers and drawn them down to his ankles, together with his underpants. – "No!", he had wanted to yell, but the firmness of her free hand in his back had held him over, not so much by force as by sheer will-power. Then, with his buttocks shamefully naked and offered, Hilda had stepped back, warning him in a clipped voice not to rise.

"But you....", Jeremy had begun to say, though in reality he had little idea as to how he were going to finish the sentence, and in any event he had no chance to. SWOOO-ISSSH! sang the cane and in the next half-second a shrill cry of utter dismay was emitted from his lips as it bit into his buttocks, causing him what he thought to be the most fearful stinging. – "Be STILL!", she had barked at him as his hips waggled and he tried to suppress further gasps. What seemed to him then an eternity passed as Hilda waited, cane-poised behind him. He could hear her speaking to him softly – hypnotically almost – but could hardly distinguish the words through the haze of redhot sensations he was experiencing.

At the second, which came a whole minute later, he had cried out almost girlishly, "Oh, NO!" and had gritted his teeth against the deeply-insurgent stinging. But then something else happened, too. His penis had begun to stir, and the thought terrified him that his aunt would see the beginning of an erection – but in the very midst of that mental and physical turmoil he had felt the cane tapping gently and rhythmically against his seared buttocks, on and on, until he thought she would never stop.

With each little bounce of the warning cane, so his prick extended itself more until to his horror and excitement it stemmed full up his belly. Then.... SWEEE-ISSSH! again, and a howl broke from him. – "NO-WOH!", he yelped, but as he did so, the cane fell at a right angle firmly across the nape of his neck, preventing him from rising immediately not by strength but by her silent determination which he could feel like a perfumed cloud over him.

His sobs resounded. – "Now rise, Jeremy", she had said calmly, though in fact it was almost the last thing that he wanted to do, with his penis thick and long and at full stretch. Haltingly he had pressed himself up, tightening his seared buttocks and screwing up his eyes – none of which appeared to impress Hilda who had placed one hand on his shoulder and turned him about to face her.

Feeling utterly stupid and yet incredibly wild with desire at the same time, his eyes narrowing as he fought against the deep stinging in his bottom, Jeremy had felt her fingers slip tenderly under his swollen balls and then glide up to ring his swollen stem.

"You see, my dear, it disturbs in more ways than one", she had murmured. No longer able to contain himself, Jeremy threw his arms about her and hugged himself to her rather than vice versa. His thrumming prick tapped against her belly through her skirt and he began to sob boyishly while her arms enfolded him.

"Were you a girl, you would not be comforted in this way after a first caning – brief as yours was. The hands may touch gently afterwards, and a soft word might be said, but that is all. A promise is held out – nothing else. The girl will be told that she will be disciplined again. That is all. The first time. As for you, my dear, you cannot help but display your manliness. That will often happen, but you must realise here and now that men have to discipline themselves, too. It is all part of it. NO, Jeremy!", she had snapped, for even as she spoke he had begun to fumble up her skirt until his stiff cock protruded between her black-stockinged thighs, just above her knees, her nylons rasping softly against his powerfully-throbbing member.

"I am sorry", Jeremy had heard himself sobbing. She moved her voluptuous body away from him as he spoke and loosed her arms. – "You forget, Jeremy, that it is a discipline. That must be inculcated first. Later, when all is firmly established, there comes mutual pleasuring. I say MUTUAL, Jeremy – not enforced. Young ladies do not display as visibly as males, of course, but close observance will often show that their nipples are erected and their pussies moist. There may also be a touch of stickiness elsewhere. Such signs are promising. The desire to yield utterly becomes so overwhelming that all inhibitions disappear. Even so, a sense of discipline still obtains, and thus the most delicious results are achieved".

Jeremy had listened to all that in a daze, and yet he had understood better than a million words could otherwise have told him. He had been told then to go to bed, and he had gone, like a stricken schoolboy, with Hilda smiling at him behind his back. The next morning she had produced the minor bombshell that her daughter, Diana, would be joining him to teach at the college – or the training institution as Hilda preferred to call it.

Diana was no softie, Jeremy had been told. "There was the case of the Peeping Tom – I will not otherwise name him, Jeremy, who liked to peek into her bedroom to see if he could see her in her undies. Diana was at the peak of her own training then, but I had taught her caution and she well understood that discipline was mutual. I had her cane him, and she enjoyed it", Hilda had said.

But now that the moment had come for Jeremy to take over, in concert with Diana who was due to arrive later in the day, he kissed his aunt a temporary farewell. For a brief moment he experienced the moist warmth and voluptuousness of her lips and the bulging of her mature tits into his chest and longed to pass his palms around her superb bottom. As ever, though, Hilda drew herself away. "Discipline, Jeremy", she murmured, and his eyes hazed. – "Yes, I know, but....", he began. Her hand waved the rest of his words away. – "Really, dear, you have not caned me yet. My own bottom has not received from you. I do not accept an intruder without that", she said, and twiddled with the front door knob, her large bottom turned provocatively to him.

His eyes, piercing her skirt, Jeremy imagined the large pale orb which her undoubtedly tight and skimpy panties netted, the halfmoons glossy, rich and full. – "Intruders?", he echoed. She smiled at him over her shoulder, easing the door open. – "A private term, Jeremy. When, years ago, I yielded completely to the cane at last, I was asked next morning by Mama whether I had also received an intruder. I knew what she meant and had to answer yes. Be good, dear. Bye-bye!"

Discipline – thought Jeremy admiringly as he watched her hips swaying in her departure. She could easily have let him fondle her lightly for a moment, but that was obviously not the way it was. Every minute he was learning....

* * *

Discipline was also the word in the mind of Tina Brown who – at the railway station three miles away from St Hilda's – was tapping her foot impatiently in waiting for a taxi. A bright red sling-bag hung over one shoulder and she had a suitcase by her side. Her blonde hair glinted in the pale sunlight. – "What a ridiculous wait", she said suddenly to the unknown girl who stood close to her and who was also obviously waiting for a lift. In a moment they were chatting, and amazed to find that they were both bound for the same place. Carole was the other girl's name.

"I didn't particularly want to come, but jobs are so hard to find right now, and I was told it would be good for me. Did you see the brochure about the place?" – "Yes", Tina said, and seemed to be struggling to find words as a cab finally drew up and both got in. "It's disciplinary – that's what it said", she remarked. – "I know – and I'm told I need it. Were you told that?", Carole asked, although she guessed the answer would be in the affirmative even as she spoke. Her tight round bottom wriggled uneasily on the seat.

"I think it's ridiculous these days", Tina said, looking out of the window at the small country town. – "Me, too. I said I wasn't coming here, but that didn't wash. I got...", Carole began and stopped suddenly. Tina turned her face sharply to her. – "You got what? You mean, you got... spanked,?", she asked so knowingly that Carole had a job to conceal a nervous grin.

"Why? Did you, too?", Carole responded. Both suddenly half laughed and then grimaced and clutched one another's hand. – "I was told it would be worse here", Tina replied obliquely. – "Yeah. Me, too", Carole said with awe, and then both fell silent. – "Oooh-wow!", Tina could still hear herself squealing as a broad, leathery palm had descended again and again on her rudely-bared bottom that very morning when she had refused to get up. If only she had known it was going to happen again, she wouldn't have worn that filmy, shorty nightie. And she never wore panties in bed, either, which had made it worse.

Carole had similar memories. Her tummy swirled a little as they got closer to St Hilda's. The same sort of feeling one had on going to the dentist. – "You'll have to obey there", she had been told. – "You'll learn", Tina had heard only five hours before when she lay sobbing with her reddened, naked bottom still showing and her long, slim legs all awry....

* * *

As for Diana, she arrived earlier than expected. So early in fact that her car passed her mother's en route and they both laughed and waved to one another. "You'll be the real boss – the Headmistress – until I get back", Diana's mother had told her before that. Catching Jeremy by surprise as she did, Diana had him running downstairs to open the front door to her. He hadn't seen her since she was a child, but now Diana was a stunner. He couldn't imagine anyone not wanting to see her in her undies. Her voice, though, could be as crisp as her mother's.

"I have a list of house rules here that I drew up, Jeremy", she said as soon as they were seated at coffee. – "Yes?", he asked tentatively. There was something in her tone that told him that he wasn't going to be in charge after all. With something of an inner quiver, he accepted that. Every time that Diana crossed and recrossed her legs he could see the darker bands at the top of her charcoal-shaded nylons.

"I will read them to you", Diana said, and began: "Rule One: Pupils – they are not allowed to call themselves students here, Jeremy – will be utterly obedient at all times; Rule Two: They will wear regulation outfits that mother has already stored upstairs. Wantonness is not permitted. High heels to be worn at all times; Rule Three: Each new girl will be disciplined once daily for her first week by a firm spanking on her naked bottom; Rule Four: For the first week of their training they will be taught to walk for an hour or so with their panties rolled down to their stocking tops. This produces a delicate, mincing step; Rule Five: On her second week, each girl will bare her bottom to the tawse; Rule Six: No girl will refuse her caning in her third week, or she will be held over, I regret that, but it may be necessary; I will apply the cane first in all instances; Rules Seven: A recalcitrant girl – a rebel, if you like – will be made to stand, knicks down and holding her skirt up, for twenty minutes; Rule Eight: Each pupil will receive her third or fourth caning stripped to self-supporting black stockings and high heels; Rule Nine: Whether she has been disciplined or not, each girl will be taught to display – this is later in the term I might say – and will permit her naked bottom to be fondled while she stands perfectly still. I may, of course, have to add a few more rules as we go along".

"Yes", Jeremy said faintly, and gazed at her in wonderment. The devil of it was, his cock was twitching again, but Diana didn't seem to notice the bulge under his flies. And then the doorbell rang.

"Ah – our first, I expect. I will let them in", Diana said brightly. Her bottom wiggled adorably as she walked. Gazing after her, Jeremy could see the tightly updrawn vee of the back of her panties through her skirt, and he rather wondered who was going to have all the fun.....

* * *

Well – YOU are, for certain. There's going to be more about St Hilda's next month!


  1. Dmitry, you are an absolute treasure to bring us all these wonderful and well-written spanking stories from the days of the classic magazines.

    It often seems to me that you are so seldom thanked for all the priapic pleasure you bring to us, and I know I am remiss at not thanking you often enough. All I can say is that I would sadly miss your blog if it were to disappear and I hope my humble offering of thanks might encourage you to bring us yet more of these impactful delights!

    With every good wish to a great guy!


  2. Thank you for the kind words! I will try and continue to delight visitors of my blog magnificent stories from the Golden era of spanking literature.

    By the way, I want to explain: I don't have Swish Vol.7 No.5 and subsequent issues, so that I can't post the other stories from the series "St Hilda". I'm sorry.

  3. I fully agree with hedgehog! When last year you stopped posting for about five months, as well as this year from February to April, I sadly missed your wonderful stories!
    So I'd like to thank you heartily too.

  4. Absolutely second all of the above Dimitry. You are a gift to us all. In the absence of more from St Hildas what Swish story is going to make my week next Friday? Miss Bentwick perhaps? Thanks again, Fox