In the oven like stationary cupboard at the back of the secretaries office, the sweating caretaker stood on a small set of steps, looking through the small ventilation grille into Dr. Bonham's office. Standing there in the dark, he watched as Thomas and Watts scrambled back into their clothes. All in all it had been quite entertaining so far, Dr. Bonham had kept to his word. He had told the caretaker, when the seeds of information that he had given him were coming to fruition, that he would be allowed to watch the "reaping".
So as Thomas and Watts left the head's office, the caretaker stayed put, as as far as he was concerned this was only half time. The first half he had found most entertaining, not really that interested in seeing Thomas caned, but the look of embarrasment on the boy's face, standing there hands on head, his erect dick bobbing up and down in front of him had been priceless. Perhaps from now on the head boy won't be such the arrogant prick that he had been of late? The caning of his young lover though, what a different story all together, seeing the cane lash across her naked buttocks had been most invigourating. Shame that from his position perched so high up he could only see her buttocks, he had little doubt that from Powell's and Matron's viewpoint, they would see much more than just her naked posterior as she bent across the desk.
Still though, he could hardly have asked for the head to let him actualy into the room. So now he stood, bated breath, waiting for the twist that he was sure to come.
"Well ladies," Dr. Bonham said to Matron and Powell as the two punished lovers left the office. "I now find myself in an awkward predicament. I know for a fact Matron that you knew that there was something brewing between Thomas and Watts!"
Matron flashed Powell an acusing glare.
"No Matron, it wasn't your young friend here that informed me, you should know by now that there is very little that happens in this establishment that I'm not aware of off?"
"Yes, Dr. Bonham." Matron replied, it was true that the head always seemed one step ahead of everything that went on in the school, as if he was some sort of all knowing omniprescent being.
"So I am disappointed twofold." the head said. "Firstly that you, as a member of staff, thought it wise to keep me in the dark over matters concerning Thomas and Watts, and also to a lesser extent Powell here. Which brings me nicely to my dissapointment in Powell. The role of prefect should be looked upon as an honour, and not just the means to exact revenge upon fellow students!"
Powell stared at the floor in guilt, as the head admonished her.
"So what am I to do about it?" The head asked, leaving the question hanging in the air. No reply was forthcoming from either party, so the head continued. "My first reaction, was to dismiss you, Matron, but that would put both your husband's position and your housing in a precarious situation, through no fault of his own. So I've had to rethink slightly. Miss Powell, apart from this one bit of foolishness, you seem to be adapting to life in the school as if academia was in your blood. So you too pose a bit of a problem for me. Do either of you have any suggestion as to how I can navigate my way through this, without having to send you both packing?"
Silence enveloped the room, Palmer waited holding his breath, anxiously hoping for one of them to speak forth.
"Sir... er..." It was Powell who broke the deadlock. "could you not... er... deal with us yourself? You know... like you did with Watts?"
Matron shook her head slowly, but realised that this was what the head had been angling for all along, and that Powell had taken his bait hook, line, and sinker.
"That would indeed be an option," Dr. Bonham replied in forced mock relief at Powell's suggestion. "Only Matron does not seem to agree?"
"Dr. Bonham, you know that I, as much as any other member of staff holds the school's reputation close to my heart." Matron stated, then continued. "So if news got out that the school was... indulging in the corporal punishment of adults, the scandal would be the end of this noble establishment."
"A very good point well made, Matron, but no one would be aware of my "indulgence" as you put it, apart from us three. The secretary has gone home, and no one else will come to this part of the building during lesson times, so privacy is ensured."
Matron sighed, and nodded admitting her defeat on the matter.
"So, we are agreed then, you both take a summary caning now, and that is the end of the matter?" Dr. Bonham asked, his eyes firmly focussed on Matron.
"Yes." Matron spoke for both of them.
"Well now comes the matter of the tariff." The head said desperately trying to hide his enthusiasm. "Matron you shall be first, as I feel that you have let me down the most, after all a quick word to me the other day when you were last in here and the whole matter could have nipped in the bud there and then."
Matron nodded, remembering the look of expectation, then dissapointment that Dr. Bonham had showed when she was last in his office. She should have known then that he had somehow gleaned information from somewhere about Thomas's antic's.
"So for you it will be the same as Thomas, eight strokes. As I said it will be the same a Thomas, on the bare, so please prepare yourself."
Matron swallowed hard at the head's sentence, though she had expected that he would be wanting to bare the two of them. She had noticed the way that he always looked at her, mentally undressing her, and now here she was undressing herself for him. As her hands went to the zipper at the side of her pale blue knee length skirt, Dr. Bonham adressed Powell.
"Miss Powell, like your colleague you will recieve a slightly lesser punishment. Unlike your colleague though, you are not a silly girl who has found herself in this office through an act of stupidity. You actually engineered the situation to suit your own ends, so you will recieve the traditional six of the best!"
Powell nodded, her whole body now shaking, a mixture of excitement and fear. She glanced to her side to see Matron now standing in just her ivory blouse, white french knickers and black stockings.
"Matron, I don't believe you are quite fiinished in your preparation, are you?" Dr. Bonham chided the dark haired beauty standing before him.
Wordlessly, Matron pulled down and then removed completely the offending extra garment. Having done this, she then stood head held high, not allowing him to see the humilation that she was now feeling.
This pose of defiance, did however allow him, Powell and the now overly excited caretaker, to see her thick jet black triangle of pubic hair.
Dr. Bonham nodded in approval, a slight smile on the corner of his mouth as he motioned with his eyes to the desk.
Powell almost gasped aloud as Matron draped her upper body over the cold wooden desktop, her coltish legs and firm high naked bottom directly in front of her, then little peeking folds of her sex just visible.
Then the crack of the first cane stroke, again caught Powell of guard, causing her rather than Matron to shout out in shock.
"One thank you, Sir." Matron said, no more emotion in her voice than if she was ordering an ice cream.
"There is no need for you to count them out, Matron." Dr. Bonham informed his current victim.
"It was the tradition at my old school." She said flatly.
"Well count..." The second stroke raked across her still unmarked bottom. " away my dear."
Powell looked on as the first line started to appear, then the second line from the much harder delivered stroke raced into bloom. this time though Matron's voice had a slight quiver to it.
Powell was again locked into her own dreamworld, as she watched stroke after stroke land across Matron's naked bottom. She had noticed that by stroke seven Matron was sobbing. She had not realised though, that somehow carried along by what she was witnessing, she had at some point, loosened her own skirt and let it fall in a pool to her ankles. So now she too was standing in her stockings and knickers, awaiting her turn.
As the last stroke whistled through the air, Powell noticed something. The front of the head's trousers had now become rather tight, she could make out the shape of his erect cock. This discovery shocked her, a man of his age still, thinking about sex! Then she wondered who it was that was having this effect upon on him, which one of the three of them would he have liked to unzip his trousers behind. Then hook himself under their naked hips, impaling his engorged member deep inside them? Matron, Watts, or even herself? Perhaps it had been Thomas that had fired up his current ardour, after all you do hear of such things?
"Aaagh... EIGHT thank you, Sir!" Matron screamed out as the whistling last stroke found it's intended target.
"Matron, if you could stand by Powell please." Dr. Bonham said in a gentle whisper. "Miss Powell if you could... ah... I see you have already started to prepare yourself, must be eager my girl eh?"
"Yes, Sir." Powell replied, then immediatley realised how stupid that must have sounded. "I mean... er... to get it all over with."
"Yes well come along then. Knickers off, and over you go!" Dr. Bonham said, a hint of joviality in his voice again.
"Your loving this you old goat." Powell thought to herself as her fingers went to the elasticated waistband of her dark blue aertex knickers. Quickly she pulled them down and off, then raced over the desk.
"Yes quite an eager beaver!" Dr. Bonham said in a sing song voice. "So lets not keep the lady waiting."
Each stroke was delivered one after the other, just as Watts' final three were, not the almost leisurely pace he had taken with Matron.
Powell herself was unaware at what point the tears started to flow, but flow they did, as she lay on the table she heard the head's voice cut through the sound of her sobbing.
"Right, Miss Powell you may get dressed, and compose yourself before returning to your classes."
She struggled back to her feet, then stood facing the head, rubbing at her striped bottom, now not caring that he could see her thin covering of pubic hair.
"Thank you, Sir." She struggled out.
After about four minutes or so, both Matron and Powell were decent again, and composed enough to leave the head's office. As they left, he thought to himself. "I wonder what fun and games the summer arrivals will bring?"
In the hot little stationary cupboard the snooping caretaker thought to himself "I don't think my heart will take much more of this!"