Read Online The Prussian Girls by P. N. Dedeaux - Free Book Online

Anna Erland, possessor by this point of a slip of paper which began “Request for permission to give the bearer six stripes…” was tensely costive, and climbed the stairs fearfully to the Matron. This good woman lost no time in bending her over and administering a rectal evacuator, of glycerine and castor oil, and long suppository slid in high. Then pigeon-toed, and plucking at her tunic in front, the girl had to stand in a line of four, “controlling” her insides for a ten-minute wait. One offender was fairly griped double, and begged to relieve herself, or else. Unfortunately the alternative, if she let fly as her inner person so demanded, would have been a really sound caning from the implacable Steinkopf. Most held out, squatting over a pan in turn and in public. Each knew, as she left, that were she to miss again that week, it would be a long-beaked clyster up her anus, compared to which the suppository would seem a Sunday-school picnic. And after this little Anna Erland draggled to her Prefect's private den, or study, having first passed by the Duty Mistress to have her chit signed.
    The Praelictor's room was sparely and simply furnished. It had, so far as the curtseying entrant was concerned, a low leather hassock, on which was a solid strap.
    “Did you get it signed, scum?”
    “Yes, Seckendorff.”
    “Good. Give it me. I'm going to give you six for an untidy bed. Feeling nice and shivery behind?”
    “Yes,” came the glum answer. “Pull up your knickers.”
    The Prefects were not allowed to beat on “the bare.”
    “They're pulled up, Seckendorff.”
    “Well, pull them up higher. If I split them I'll let you off the rest.”
    The big girl took up the strap which was about four inches wide and some two feet long; she brought it down with all her strength, and the testimonial of a puff of dust, on the leather hassock set out there. Then thoughtfully, if anything harder, she repeated the gesture. Watching, Anna Erland, aged thirteen, felt the back of her throat dry suddenly; she was nearly in tears.
    “Looking forward to it?”
    “Ner-ner-no, Seckendorff.”
    “Disgusting little scum, ask for it like the filth you are.”
    “Per-please may I have a, a… I mean six stripes,” the girl was crying steadily now, her dark hair shaking, “across my bottom, for, for leaving my bed untidy.”
    “Idiot! I want an adjective before each noun. Invent. Imagine.”
    “P-p-please may I have six stinging stripes… across my wretched bottom, for, for leaving my miserable bed untidy.”
    “Not bad. Now three adjectives, and different nouns. Come on, make it colorful. I'm waiting.” So was the swinging strap, it was plain.
    The girl bent her head-“I beg to receive six whippy licking juicy strokes of the strap across my small unworthy deserving bottom… arse… for leaving…”
    “That's enough. Lie across here.”
    Tremors shook the liquid little bottom, when the tunic had been drawn off it. It was small, indeed. The Prefect struck it mercilessly, from in front, at the girl's head, bringing the tail-end of her strap cracking into the underbottoms-three each side- and when it was over, little Anna Erland rolled on the floor in pain.
    Simultaneously, in the distant Duty Room, another sinner was feeling sorry for herself, hissing and twisting under two thoughtfully placed “hunting” flicks, both of which plucked up her butties, for having made two errors in Recitation, lines from Cicero set her the previous day.
    Promptly at eight thirty-which was to say five minutes beforehand, since everything happened “on the stroke” at the Schloss-classes started to another bell. They were naturally conducted in complete silence and total attention on the girls' part; they continued, with a short break for physical exercises, and milk, until noon. Luncheon was at one.
    These classes were not normally punctuated by punishment; the Head discouraged wasting valuable intellectual study in the infliction of bodily pain.