Teaching Teachers is a fictional story, published on Amazon in eBook format.
The story revolves around Cath and Monique, two teachers at a school for recalcitrant young women needing strict and regular corporal punishment to get them back on track. Notably, hand strapping, tawsing, then being strapped down onto the punishment horse for plenty of corporal is a regular occurrence for staff, pupils and now parents alike.
Ms Smeet the headmistress, a term she liked far too much, ran her school on a policy of regular and effective corporal punishment to guide students and staff alike.
In her vast experience there was nothing like glowing red and shaking palms and a well striped set of buttocks to help a young lady along in life. And when they came back for more, and harder, she was only too happy to oblige.
It was also a role she relished and now, this night, she was inducting a group of returning alumni and new parents into her special activities.
So, what better way to demonstrate how her older “students” could benefit from a course of corporal punishment than demonstrate on two of her staff. After all, it was not as if either of them had not been in a similar position before.
A Group Session. HANDS UP!
“You first,” said Ms Smeet as she stood in front of Monique. “Get those naughty hands up in the air, just how I like them.”
Cath knelt beside Monique and knew she would be next. It would if anything be worse this way as she would have to witness Moniques punishment, Her mind would be translating that onto what Ms Smeet would give her and she would feel the fear. And she would feel that same secret thrill too which would make it all worthwhile.
Ms Smeet stood in front of Monique the naked and kneeling French teacher. With the benefit of daily and much repeated strappings, Ms Smeet flicked her heavy leather split punishment strap out and up onto Monique’s waiting left palm, supported by her right, just the way all the girls presented their hands for strapping.
Monique had been strapped by Ms Smeet many times now, but this was the first time there had been an audience watching, lined up on the side of the room. In this case it was a collection of ‘old girls’ from the school returning to observe then perhaps (re)experience the stict discipline that Ms Smeet was renowned for, and they all had experienced in the past.
Hand strapping was central to school discipline. Monique had a wonderful split strap and she used it regularly, daily, in the classes she took. It was a ritual they all followed. Girls would move out to the front of class, a hand would be raised then supported with the other hand. The hand on top would be flat, the fingers pointed to the teacher administering the strap with the whole hand exposed and waiting for the leather to descend at speed.
Now it was her turn to hold her hands up for the leather.
The benefit of supporting one hand with the other might not have been immediately seen by the casual observer, but it worked well.
The theory was that with two hands raised, pulling the top hand away from the descending strap was more difficult. If the left palm was moved, that meant the right palm received the leather. And then, if that happened, Ms Smeet would usually add extra strokes, lots of extra strokes so the lesson about not moving the hand during a strapping was well learned.
But now there was a difference. Monique was naked but for the tight leather hood and the collar.
Another difference was that Cath the senior chemistry teacher was likewise kneeling beside her, and she too was naked but for the collar and hood.
The silence in the room was total, every eye was on the three tailed leather strap laying on the waiting soft palm, the leather covering the fingers and running up to the palm.
The visiting alumni stood in their bath robes, not moving, not a word spoken, their satin hoods looking strange but keeping their wearers anonymous just as intended.
Cath knelt next to Monique and knew it would be her turn all too soon as she looked at the tawse laying on the palm.
If anything, watching Monique get the strap like this was an exquisite form of torture. But she felt it to be deeply erotic at so many levels, making her insides excited. Seeing Ms Smeet discipline Monique was a voyeurs wet dream, seeing the naked woman with the hood and collar kneeling with the extended strap laying on the palm. Waiting.
Soon it would be her own turn.
Ms Smeet pulled the strap back toward herself. If fell down off the palm, toward the floor then like a pendulum moved back behind her. With a deceptively graceful and gentle arm movement, Ms Smeet moved the strap forward and up then over her shoulder so it hung down behind her back. Moving slowly, Ms Smeet moved her left hand behind her, gripping the ends of the tails of the strap, pulling them down slightly, putting the leather under tension.
It was a tableau that Monique was mesmerized by. And all the others present too.
Ms Smeet was standing in front of her with the strap raised, the tails gripped behind her and pulled down. Just one flick of the arm down and those tails would be wrenched out of her left hand then brought down at warp speed across her palm, and it was exactly the same technique she used when she strapped girls in her class. She knew it worked so well. The action of pulling down on the tails added so much speed, so much pain to the stroke that few girls, when she strapped them, did not show a visible reaction and more than a few had tears on their cheeks after just one and usually two strokes.
After only a moment of delay as she was poised, perhaps only a few seconds when every eye was now on that punishing leather, Ms Smeet with often practiced effort brought her arm forward and down flashing the strap through the air with a swish that was terminated by the sharp ‘schwaacck’ of leather full onto palm flesh in a perfect stroke. That was then followed by the inevitable high pitched feminine gasp the stroke produced.
For a first stroke it was perfect. It was crisp, solid and delivered to the dead centre of the palm and along the fingers, and it had the required reaction.
By an effort of almost inhuman strength and backed by oft repeated acquaintance with having her hands strapped, Monique kept her hands presented.
Ms Smeet smiled, flicked the strap up onto the waiting palm with a red band down the middle of it then turned to the audience. “Doesn’t this bring back memories girls? It is just the same as you all got here isn’t it, except the kneeling and the hood make a lovely difference. The same sound, the same feeling, the same anticipation.”
Ms Smeet then pulled the strap back and repeated the stroke, slowly and carefully getting ready so that the strap drew the eyes. The audience of alumni and the victim fixated on the strap and Cath also found herself mesmerized with the knowledge it was going to be her own hands that the same strap was going to come down on, all too soon.
With her right arm raised and holding the strap high over her shoulder, her left hand behind and gripping the tails, Ms Smeet strained then brought it down for a second sharp craaack along the middle of Monique’s hand.
Again Monique gasped but by a super human effort, the palm with the red stripe down its middle was kept in position for the next stroke which was not long in coming. ‘Shhwaack’ sounded the third stroke and this time Monique gave a short high pitched squeal, the pain of the hand strapping finally getting to her.
Monique waved the hand quickly, feeling like her hand had taken an electric shock, then she summoned the willpower to present the hand again, red stripe up and supported by her right.
This time however Ms Smeet surprised them both. “Change hands girl,” she said as both Cath and Monique expected it to be the full six of the best to each hand. Clearly that was not happening this time.
Quickly Monique presented her right for the strap, it’s unblemished white palm facing upward for the punishing leather, inviting it down.
Ms Smeet took her time as she repeated the procedure for three cracking strokes. She flicked the strap up onto the palm, let it lay there for a moment then pulled it back and then flicked it over her shoulder so her left hand could reach behind and pull down on the tails. Then when the tension in the leather had built, the strap swished down on the upraised palm in a mighty crack that made Monique gasp each time and shake her hand madly on the third stroke.
Ms Smeet stood in front of Monique with her strap held between her hands, running the leather through her left hand, caressing it. She turned to the audience, “That girls was what you got when you came to my office, but now my special clients get a lot more.
“Change hands girl,” and with that Ms Smeet setup for the second set of three strokes per palm.
Cath looked at the left hand with its bright red band facing up again, facing the leather and with the strap laying on it. She knew Monique would be dreading this strapping. She’d thought, and so had Monique she was quite sure, thought it was only going to be six of the best. Clearly it was not, it was going to be a double six-er, a standard hand strapping from Ms Smeet for her older clients.
‘Shhwaaack’ sounded the strap and Monique gasped loudly, her mouth going wide, then her hand was dropped and shaken as she bent over, still kneeling, from the pain of the strap. Quickly Monique raised up again and presented the palm for the strap and again the leather visited it, firstly to lay on it, then to be raised over a shoulder and only seconds later to be brought down at speed. Again Monique gasped, loudly, and shook her hand but she quickly raised it into position.
“Yahhggg,” said Monique on the third stroke and this clearly hurt after all the others, and Monique was shaking her hand madly before she presented it again.
That was three more for a six-er to that hand, and she expected Ms Smeet to tell Monique to change hands, but the command didn’t come. Instead Ms Smeet flicked the strap up onto the decidedly read and trembling hand then gave it a further stroke, a hard one and again Monique cried out.
Ms Smeet took her time, flicking the strap up onto the waiting palm, moving the strap back and forward teasing the victim with the feeling of the punishing leather, then she brought it back, let it swing down, then up over her shoulder for the next hard stroke. This was repeated yet again and now Monique had been given a six of the very best after the three previous strokes. That made nine and she was worried, that was one hell of a strapping and she suddenly wished she’d gone first and not Monique as the anticipation was dreadful.
This time the command came, “Change hands girl,” as Ms Smeet stood running the strap through her hands with a slight smile on her face.
The left hand after the additional six strokes was bright red and shaking, then, Monique swapped it for the right. The difference was significant, the right palm had it’s red palm but it was only quite mild by comparison.
“Six,” said Ms Smeet, quietly and forcefully, as the strap lay on Monique’s waiting right palm. “It is always six,” said Ms Smeet as she flicked the strap up in the air and let it land gently on the waiting palm, “that is six to each hand for my senior girls.” Me Smeet moved the leather back and forward, then added, “At least six, that is, and in groups of six.”
Ms Smeet then pulled the strap back and repeated the procedure. Each stroke was slow, practiced and deliberate. Each cracked down crisply on the rapidly reddening palm and each brought a louder and louder gasp then a muted shriek from Monique on the sixth stroke as it clearly hurt deeply, along with a lot of urgent hand waving.
After the six, Monique knew to keep her hand presented. Dropping it away was an invitation for Ms Smeet to repeat the strapping for the disrespect shown by the girl needing to be punished. It was always up to Ms Smeet to command the hands to be raised, swapped or lowered.
Ms Smeet flicked the strap up onto Monique’s making her wonder if she was going to get more? Another three would make an even dozen, a number she’d never received in one session, one after the other. She had no doubt that Monique thought so also.
“There,” said Ms Smeet as she flicked the strap up into the air and caught it with her left hand, then she turned to the audience. “That is a six-er this time, standard fare for my senior girls.” Ms Smeet smiled at Monique, “Hands down girl.”
Ms Smeet then walked in front of herself, “Just like you shall get, girl. Hands up.”
Cath knew it was her turn now and Ms Smeet sure did have her strapping technique down pat. Suddenly her mouth went dry, her heart fluttered and it was now her turn.
She raised her left, supported it by her right and looked over her palm at Ms Smeet as she flicked the strap up and out and onto her palm. Suddenly it was very real, the feeling of the leather bringing it all home.
She was going to get her hands strapped. Hard.
She was going to be strapped by Ms Smeet in front of all these people and there was nothing she could do about it.
It would be just like how the girls felt in her class when she strapped them out the font, in front of the rest of the class. It might be less embnarrassing as she was hooded, but then again she was naked otherwise. That counted for something in the embarrassment stakes surely.
That was an excerpt from ‘Teaching Teachers – Strict School Reunion’