Read Online BEXHILL SCHOOL FOR GIRLS, Assembly by Adrian Akers-Douglas - Free Book Online Page A

jeans. She stood and half turned,
examining her bottom. The jeans had been an expensive buy, but
worth it for the way they clung to her cheeks. If anything needed
some improvement, she thought, it was her bum: it was definitely on
the small side, which meant that jeans and trousers had to be of
high quality if they weren’t to look baggy on her.
    She sat down
again and continued the evaluation. She touched her breasts: they
were firm and developing nicely. Her face was pretty, she thought,
even though - like her bottom - it could be described as petite . To try to disguise this, she wore her auburn hair
full and long. Her hair was really good: glossy and shining with
health. She rewarded it by picking up her hairbrush and sweeping it
through the locks, teasing out the few knots. With a sudden
insight, she pulled the brush from her hair. It had quite a long
handle and the bristles were attached to a heavy, oval wooden head.
It looked, she realised, a lot like ‘Stinger’.
    ‘Stinger’ was
the hairbrush which the headmaster at Bexhill resorted to when
scoldings had either fallen on deaf ears or when the offence
merited the immediate use of physical correction short of a caning.
Mr Masterson and his Deputy, Mrs Winchester, used the hairbrush
mainly for first offences committed by junior girls. It was often
their introduction to the school’s corporal punishment repertoire.
Mrs Winchester’s brush, a little lighter and so less formidable
than Stinger, was known as ‘Tingle’.
    Now, as Anna
looked at the brush in her hands, she recalled the ambivalent
emotions she had felt when Mr Masterson had been obliged to spank
her with Stinger at the beginning of her first year at the
school.
    The term had
been less than a month old when she and a friend had been caught
whispering together and sharing a stick of chewing gum during the
Sunday chapel service. A teacher, whom they hadn’t noticed in the
pew behind them, tapped them both on their shoulders and whispered
that they were ‘on report’. Their stomachs somersaulted and they
paid little attention to the rest of the service, and - most
unwisely - none at all to the headmaster’s sermon. The teacher was
as good as his word, and shortly after lunch both girls were
summoned to see Mr Masterson. He looked grim as they stood before
the desk in his study, their hands clasped behind their backs,
fingers twirling nervously.
    Mr Masterson
pointed out that whispering in church constituted some form of
blasphemy, whilst chewing gum in the holy precincts ensured an
express route to Hell.
    “And what,” he
had asked, “did you girls learn from my sermon?” He waited in vain
for an answer, because neither Anna nor Jenny had the slightest
idea what he’d been warbling about. This inattention to his
finely-crafted words proved to be the straw that broke the camel’s
back. He reached down to a drawer on the right-hand side of his
desk. Both Anna and Jenny knew the consequences of such a move and
their eyes widened. Sure enough, the headmaster opened the drawer
and extracted from it the legendary Stinger. He laid the hairbrush
on his desk. It looked bigger, heavier, and altogether more
sinister than the girls had imagined.
    “Right. I think
this is the first time either of you have been spanked since you
came to the school?”
    Anna managed a
muted “Yes, sir,” while Jenny just nodded, transfixed by the sight
of Stinger. The headmaster stood up and walked around the desk.
    “I want you to
stand here,” he said, pulling Anna gently towards him so that there
was a yard or so between her and her partner in sacrilege.
    “Good. Now both
of you bend over and grasp your ankles.”
    The girls
exchanged frightened glances and did as they were told.
    Mr Masterson
moved behind Anna, lifted up her dark blue Sunday skirt, and folded
the hem securely inside the waistband. The white shirt-tail thus
revealed he arranged on top of her lower back. He took a step
across the room and did the same