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Julia’s Proposal
Story from Roué 20 by Barry Roberts
Leonard Dawson put the register away in the top drawer of his desk, returned his pen to the inside pocket of his jacket and looked up over the top of his glasses at the girl sitting at her desk in the second row, the only girl left in the classroom — all the others having departed for their first lesson of the day. The time had come for him to embark on the first phase of his plan. He cleared his throat and spoke.
‘I suppose you are aware of what you are in for?’
‘Yes, sir,’ she said miserably.
‘What is that?’
‘I’ll have to report to the Headmistress, sir.’
‘And?’
‘She’ll give me the cane, sir.’
‘Anything else, Julia?’
‘I, er, don’t think so, sir.’
He had guessed correctly — she had forgotten.
‘Don’t you recall the Headmistress’ speech to the school on the opening day of term?’
‘No, sir, I mean… I don’t know, sir.’
He rose, strolled to the window and, after a brief glimpse out at the playground below, turned to face the girl again.
‘Any girl sent to me for a caning,’ he quoted, ‘will face the additional punishment of…’
‘Oh gosh,’ she exclaimed. The penny had at last dropped.
‘Oh gosh, indeed,’ he said.
‘What have I done, sir? I completely forgot. What have I let myself in for?’
‘What you have let yourself in for is, as you well know, a thrashing from Mrs Archer and the loss of the privilege of going on the trip to Paris at Easter.’
‘Oh, sir,’ she said, ‘I’d forgotten all about that. Will she go through with it do you think, sir?’
‘Undoubtedly, Julia. You know Mrs Archer — true to her word. Any girl that gets sent to her for the cane, she said — and truancy is most definitely a caning offence.’
She gazed around the room. She had realised from the moment that Mr Dawson discovered her out of school the previous afternoon that she would be in for the cane — she had cried herself to sleep at the prospect of that the night before — but having to miss out on the trip to Paris, well, that was something that she hadn’t envisaged.
—-//—-
Leonard Dawson had been in his position as Maths teacher at the school for almost three years. Working in a school for young ladies aged between 15 and 18 had its frustrations for a man in his late-thirties, but having to teach at such an establishment that employed corporal punishment which could only be administered by the Headmistress, was bordering on the unbearable. For nearly three years he had heard stories from his fellow teachers of girls getting the cane. He had himself sent girls off to Mrs Archer to be punished, he had even heard girls talking about their canings to each other — ‘I bet I got it harder than you.’ ‘You must be joking — I got eight strokes.’ ‘Yes, well I got it on the bare — you were allowed to keep your knickers on.’ And so on. He was convinced that, before very long, he’d end up at the funny farm. He just had to chastise one of these girls himself, and he was fully aware that 17-year-old Julia Thompson was his big chance.
‘I suppose you have to send me to the Head, don’t you, sir?’
‘What are you suggesting, young lady?’
‘Well, I thought that if you dealt with me yourself, you know, if you punished me, well, I could still go on the trip.’
He walked over to the girl and stood over her. Speaking in the sternest tone he could, he said, ‘You are suggesting that I keep from Mrs Archer your act of gross misbehaviour? Is that correct?’
‘Well, yes sir.’
‘Do you realise that should she learn of this shameful attempt at avoiding your just punishment she would probably double the dose? You’d certainly get it on the bare — are you aware of just how irate she would be if she found out?’
‘Yes, sir,’ she said softly, bowing her head in disgrace. Now more than ever before he found Julia erotic.
‘Do you know what I am going to do, Julia?’
‘No, sir. Please don’t tell her what I said, sir.’
‘I’m not, Julia. Instead, I’m going to give you a sound spanking myself.’
She looked up at him, incredulous.
‘I know it’s not officially allowed, but I am so annoyed at you for asking me to do something that would pervert the course of justice, that a good hiding from me would, I think, be a more-than-appropriate punishment.’
‘And I’ll still have to go to the Head for the cane and miss out on the trip, sir?’
‘Yes, you most certainly will, young lady. You should be grateful that I’m not going to report your despicable proposal to her. Now, stand up and follow me!’
Tears welling in her eyes, she rose and walked behind him to the projection room at the far end of the classroom. They entered and he locked the door behind them. He pulled a chair into the centre of the little room and, sitting on it, called her to him. She stood nervously at his right side, and then ever so slowly bent forward until she was lying over his lap. Taking hold of the hem of her skirt, he folded the back of the garment nearly up to her shoulders. Her white cotton school knickers snuggled around a large, though not fat, bottom. His fingers hovered over the seat of these knickers, positively itching at the thought of inserting themselves into the waistband and pulling them down to reveal what, he felt sure, would be a beautiful schoolgirl behind. Controlling himself, he thought better of it. He’d take this girl’s knickers down eventually, he felt certain — but not today. He allowed himself one last lingering look at the knicker-covered bottom before raising his right hand, taking aim and bringing it down onto the delightful target.
Smack! ‘Oww!’ — Smack! Smack! Smack! ‘Oww, sir!’ — Smack! Smack! His hand rained down mercilessly onto the whole area covered by the knickers. He concentrated more on the lowest part of her cheeks — the chubbiest, most inviting portion of her bottom. After about two minutes, when he allowed her to get to her feet, she was crying quite openly and her tears dripped off her cheeks onto the floor. Her hands went to her burning bottom, inserting themselves into her knickers to soothe the pain that she was feeling and affording the person who had caused that pain a brief glimpse of the upper part of her bare behind.
She smoothed down her skirt and, before leaving, was told not to mention what had happened to anyone.
‘Apart from the fact that I’ll get into trouble,’ he said, ‘the whole story will have to come out and you will doubtless get an extra caning from Mrs Archer.’
She went on her way relieved at least by her form master’s promise that he wouldn’t be reporting the matter of her truancy until the following day, to allow her enough time to get over the spanking that she had just endured.
—-//—-
The next day dawned and, as on the previous day, Leonard Dawson found himself facing Julia Thompson. Phase two was about to be launched.
‘I have given the matter of your punishment a good deal of thought, Julia,’ he began. ‘And I have to say that for you to have to forgo the pleasures of the school trip to Paris as well as receive a thrashing from Mrs Archer is, I admit, a rather severe penance for your sins. But, that is where the problem lies. You most definitely deserve a thrashing — I think you would agree with me there — but if I send you to the Headmistress, you will have the cane plus lose out on the trip. It seems, Julia, that you can’t have one without the other.’
Julia was deep in thought. Mr Dawson’s statement was so full of ‘ifs’ and ‘buts’ that there just had to be a chance of coming to a compromise.
‘What if…’
‘What if — what, Julia?’
‘Well, I was thinking — if you think that it would be unfair for me to miss the trip to France — you could, er…’
‘I could — what, Julia?’
‘Well, you could give me the cane, sir, instead of Mrs Archer and I would still get to go on the school trip.’
Well, he’d done it. He didn’t even have to suggest it himself. She had made the suggestion and now all he had to do was go along with it.
He thought long and hard about Julia’s proposal — or, at least, gave the impression of giving it deep thought. At length, standing up and walking to where she was sitting, he informed her that he was willing to do as she requested.
‘Oh, thank you, sir!’
‘I’d save your thanks until you’ve had your punishment if I were you, Julia. I don’t know how severely Mrs Archer lays her cane on, but I can assure you I’m no stranger to administering canings, from my days at a Boys’ Grammar School where I once taught. And when I cane I do so with some severity, so although you’ll be going on the Paris trip after all, the thrashing you’ll
receive will be a very painful one indeed.’
Then he told Julia that because of the school’s rules about corporal punishment, he wouldn’t be able to administer her caning on the premises.
‘You will, therefore, visit me at my house tonight at eight o’clock. Tell your parents that I’ve kindly agreed to assist you with some awkward homework that I’ve set you,’ he said.
—-//—-
As soon as he arrived home that evening, Leonard Dawson went to his wardrobe and extracted the cane that he had purloined from Mrs Archer’s study some three months earlier in the unfortunately vain hope that a young lady he was dating at the time would consent to receiving a few light strokes as a prelude to their lovemaking. Not only did she find the idea of someone wanting to beat her with a cane repulsive, and therefore refused to have anything to do with such a notion, but she also went on to brand him as a sadistic beast and left, never to return. So the prelude to the lovemaking that he had been hoping she would agree to had gone by the board, as indeed had the lovemaking itself. That had been a frustrating evening for Leonard Dawson and it had only served to exacerbate still further the frustrations he experienced in his employment.
He looked at the cane lovingly. Tonight would be more successful and, even though sexual intercourse was of course out of the question, the three feet of pencil-thin bamboo that he was swishing through the air would, at last, get some use.
Eight o’clock seemed like a lifetime away as he sat eating his dinner and he cursed himself for arranging the session for as late as he had. But eventually the appointed time arrived, heralded by a ring of the doorbell.
He took Julia’s coat and scarf and led her into the lounge. He noticed that his precocious little minx had applied perfume to her person. Her attire, also, belied the fact that she was a mere schoolgirl, giving her the appearance of a very grown-up young lady. It would be easy, he felt, for him to forget that their relationship was one of teacher and pupil but, he told himself, however difficult it might prove to be to keep things strictly on that basis, it must be done, he had to restrain himself.
He went into the kitchen and prepared some tea and biscuits, looking at his guest through the serving hatch. Was this really the Julia Thompson from his form? The white school blouse, tie, navy-blue skirt and knee-length socks had been cast aside to make way for a mid-thigh length, ultra-tight black dress, and nylon encased her long, shapely legs.
Tea and biscuits over, he moved the cups and plates out of the way. He stood over her, unable to stop himself staring at the tops of her young breasts which were showing due to the girl having left undone the first three buttons on her dress.
His admiring glance didn’t go unnoticed and Julia gave him a cheeky little grin. A very different atmosphere to that of the classroom sprang into being between them, and composing himself, Mr Dawson decided that before anything untoward occurred, he should set out clearly the reason for this girl’s presence in his home. He had placed the cane in the top drawer of the sideboard and now, taking his eyes away from Julia’s heaving breasts, he strode over to fetch the implement. The sight of it caused Julia to adopt a terrified open-mouthed appearance. The cane swished through the air a couple of times, and Julia winced at the sound.
‘Stand up,’ came the order. ‘I can hardly get at your bottom when you are sitting down, now can I?’
‘No, sir,’ Julia mumbled, getting to her feet and smoothing down her dress.
‘Now, that dress,’ he stressed. ‘Rather tight, isn’t it? I think you’d have some difficulty in getting it up over your hips, wouldn’t you?’
‘Er, yes, sir, I suppose I would.’
‘Um, well, as we don’t want it getting in the way at all, I think we’ll have it off altogether.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Leonard Dawson was feeling thrilled. But he deliberately gruffed, ‘Well, come on then Julia. We haven’t got all night. I want to get this over with as much as you do.’
‘Er… there’s something I ought to tell you, sir.’
‘Out with it, girl!’
‘I’m not wearing a, er, a bra, sir.’
So the nipples that were showing through her tight dress weren’t cosseted in a thin bra after all. How positively wonderful, he thought.
He gave her a stern, disapproving look, giving a lie to his feeling of delight that this pupil of his had turned out to be a liberated young woman.
‘Well,’ he said, ‘the dress will have to come off. You’ve chosen not to wear a bra — that’s your look-out. Now, come on, get that dress off!’
‘Yes, sir,’ Julia said softly. She turned her back towards him and started unbuttoning the garment. Hesitantly as she did it, it was still the work of a few seconds. She pushed it off her shoulders and, with some difficulty, down over her hips to her feet, stepped out of it and placed it on a chair-back. Delight followed delight for Leonard Dawson as he discovered that Julia had decided to wear stockings as opposed to ghastly tights. They were skin-coloured, held up by black suspenders attached to a frilly black suspender belt. The bottom that was flanked by the suspenders was delightful in tight, lace-edged, semi-transparent knickers.
She stood awaiting the next instruction, still with her back to him, her arms folded around her breasts.
‘Over here,’ he said, and she turned and walked towards him, holding a breast in each hand.
‘Hands on head!’
‘Sorry, sir?’
‘Hands on your head, young lady!’
Slowly she obeyed, displaying her firm, fairly large breasts, the nipples of which had become erect and pointed upwards. He flexed the cane between his clammy hands and she looked at it in awe of its suppleness. Her form master couldn’t think of anything he’d rather have in his hands than her young heaving breasts… except perhaps the cane. He cleared his throat, did the best he could to compose himself, and spoke.
‘We’ve wasted enough time, Julia. Let us get on with your punishment, shall we?’
‘If we have to, sir,’ she answered very nervously.
‘Oh yes, we have to alright, young lady.’
He went to a large easy chair and patted the top of its back-rest.
‘Bend over here, Julia,’ he told her, and the girl walked over to the chair with her hands still on her head. She stood at the appointed spot and was ordered to remove her hands and get over the back of the chair. Meekly, she obeyed.
The knickers stretched tightly across her bottom, clearly defining its shape. Holding the cane in his left hand, he slipped his right into the waistband of the knickers and, very deliberately, pulled them down over her young bottom until they reached the tops of her stockings.
With the stockings, suspenders and suspender belt framing her rear-end, Julia’s bottom didn’t seem to her form master to be the bottom of a schoolgirl. It appeared full and very much the bottom of a young woman. But, he reminded himself, it was the bottom of a schoolgirl — and a naughty schoolgirl, at that!
He stood to her left side and gripped the cane tightly in his right hand.
‘How many strokes would Mrs Archer give you for playing truant, Julia — be honest, now.’
‘Um… six probably, sir — maybe less,’ her voice came from the seat of the chair.
‘Well,’ he said, ‘I’m going to give you eight — eight of the very best — and, believe me, you’ll feel them for some time after, reminding you never to play truant again.’
Her bottom contorted at his words. The cane was laid on her sit-upon, and then moved away as her teacher took aim.
Thwack! — it landed on its target. Julia gave out a stifled gasp as the searing pain surged through her.
Thwack! — the second stroke landed, higher than the first. Julia emitted a soft moan.
Thwack! — number three made contact, right across the fullest part of her bottom. She bit her lip and remained silent.
Thwack! — the next stroke fell almost exactly where an earlier one had made contact. Julia couldn’t contain herself and screamed out loud.
Thwack! — the fifth stroke lashed across Julia’s bare, burning bottom. The tears started to flow.
Thwack! — again the wickedly lithe cane wrapped its length around the unprotected backside.
Thwack! — the penultimate stroke landed across the centremost part of the girl’s behind. She was sobbing convulsively now. The cane was raised higher than it had been before and, after a pause of some ten seconds, was brought down onto the lower portion of Julia’s cheeks with far more severity. She cried out in agony and remained in her bent-over position for a full minute before straightening herself up and moving her hands to her thoroughly chastised bottom, feeling the weals that were forming.
Leonard Dawson stood, cane in hand, admiring his handiwork. Bet old Mrs Archer can’t hand out a thrashing like that he mused.
The girl was told to dress and, after a visit to the lavatory, she left.
—-//—-
Easter came and with it the school’s trip to Paris. Leonard Dawson was one of the three teachers selected to go on the trip as supervisors.
He sat facing his class on the morning of the departure.
‘Now, girls,’ he said, ‘I have to inform you that the Headmistress has stated that any girl who plays up on the trip will have to be reported to her on our return and that any such visit to her study will result in the guilty girl or girls getting the cane, is that clear?’
Later, Leonard Dawson sat in his seat in the coach taking them to the Hoverport.
‘Excuse me, sir.’ It was Julia Thompson.
‘Yes, Julia — what is it?’
‘It’s just that… well, if I am naughty on the trip, you don’t have to report it to Mrs Archer, do you?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, you can always cane me yourself, can’t you? I mean, I know you cane harder than Mrs Archer but…’
‘But what, Julia?’
‘Well, put it this way — I’d much rather have to show my bum off to you than to that dried-up old bag.’
‘The way I see it, Julia,’ he said, taken aback, ‘all you have to do is behave — then there won’t be any need for anyone to give you a caning, will there?’
Julia looked around her to make sure that no-one was within earshot. Then, lowering her voice to almost a whisper, she said: ‘That’s perfectly true, sir, but I’ve got this strange feeling that I’m not going to be able to avoid getting into trouble. Isn’t that just terrible, sir?’
