Chapter 7: Training at St Cuthbert’s

If Chatterley Hall, with its spires and turrets, resembled a palace or very elaborate country house, St Cuthbert’s resembled a mix between monastery and castle. Forbidding grey walls, cobbled drives. Bars on windows. Make that a monastery that was converted into a prison by Henry VIII.

Mrs Lockwood pressed a button on her keyring and the huge gates, rather anachronistically, swung open by themselves, allowing her to drive inside. With screeching tires we came to a halt in a large courtyard. I was impressed.

If I thought the punishment suite at Chatterley was well equipped, I clearly had not seen Miss Lockwood’s dungeon. It was straight out of Ivanhoe or Robin Hood. Miss Lockwood was in a good mood.

“Welcome to my execution room! I see we have three lads to punish, then we can do some training in the afternoon. Why don’t you call in the first customer?”

I was intrigued that she called the dungeon ‘execution room’, just like I had come to call ‘my’ room at Chatterley to myself. I resolved to call it that officially from now on as I was calling in the first culprit.

In came a nervous thirteen year old boy.

“Hi, Colin”, Miss Lockwood greeted him. “This is your first visit this month, so it should be straightforward.”

He handed over his slip and she pursed her lips.

“My, my. You have been naughty. This is for thirty cane strokes with the number 2 on the bare. Please remove your trousers and underpants.”

He turned away from us, but she stopped him.

“Face us as you take them off!”

He slowly turned back towards us and undid his belt. Down came the trousers, down came the undies, revealing a hairless, diminutive little member, partially covered by his shirt.

He bent over a stool-like punishment frame and Miss Lockwood laid into him, having him screaming after two strokes. When it was done, he simply grabbed his clothes and ran out.

The next student to be punished was older, around 15.

“Hi, Dan. Good to see you again”, said Miss Lockwood, ironically. “I believe this is visit number three in the past seven school days, is that right?”

“Yes, Miss Lockwood,” he said, handing her his slip.

“Twenty on underpants with the number 3 cane. So if we add the appropriate escalation, what punishment should I inflict on you?”

“How about 35 on underpants, miss?”

“That’s off by quite a bit.” She was using the same system as we had at Chatterley, and the screen said 80 on underpants, 50 on bare, 40 fully naked. She entered 35 on underpants and the computer spat out: 70 fully naked with number 3 cane. He went pale when she read this out.

“Strip, facing us, please.”

He complied. When he was down to his underpants, it was clear that he was sporting an involuntary erection. So was I, as a matter of fact. Now I’m not gay or anything ... far from it ... but the situation excited me tremendously: the confident, young, pretty woman ordering a boy slightly younger than myself to get naked ... hot!

He was now hesitating, clearly hoping against hope that his boner would go down if he thought of loft insulation or Margaret Thatcher long enough. But no dice.

“Please carry on”, she urged him. There was nothing for it. He slid his pants down, and out sprang an impressive erection.

“Tut, tut”, she went. “I should explain for Mr Danvers’ benefit, that having an erection during punishment adds an additional escalation. Punishment is to be endured, not enjoyed. The student gets a choice, though: I will either add a minimum of 10% to his punishment, that is, in Dan’s case, 77 strokes in total. If his erection is gone then, that’s the end of the punishment. If it is not (and I get to judge this), we will continue until double his original number of strokes, 140 in his case. The alternative is he masturbates in front of us until ejaculation. That normally makes the erection go down, but in any event it will be much less enjoyable to be caned directly after orgasm.”

Dan’s face was a deep crimson at this point, but I could feel myself blushing, too. This was way more intense than I had expected. But Miss Lockwood continued:

“As you are already qualified on the no 3, I suggest that, instead of an escalation for his erection, you get to give him 30 strokes and I will take over after that. Assuming he agrees...?”. She looked at Colin, who nodded.

And so I got to cane my first boy. I did not enjoy it as much as caning a girl, but being watched (and judged) by Miss Lockwood added spice.

“Not bad, but I’ll give you a few tips”, she commented when I was done. “It’s a bit like playing tennis - raise your arm, and don’t aim for his bottom, aim for the wall on the other side of his bottom. Like this.”

And she pulled her cane ‘through’ him, I cannot really express it any better. Even though I was probably considerably stronger physically, this produced a much greater reaction from Dan and a clearer line on his bottom. While he had remained silent when I was caning him, he was now crying out at each stroke and was practically crying continuously after ten of her strokes.

Again, when it was over he left, clutching his clothes, to get dressed in the waiting room. His erection had, unsurprisingly, disappeared.

“Ok, that was that”, she rubbed her hands, “leaving plenty of time for your training. If you can use the no 3 cane, you can pretty much use all of them, so we’ll concentrate on the whip today...”

The rest of the day was instructive, interesting, useful but also exhausting. It took me ages to learn to “crack” the whip properly, and once I had managed it on one kind of whip it was quite different for a different kind. There were a number of mannequins, male and female, to practise on, and Miss Lockwood, whom I was now allowed to call Sue, really took me to task. St Cuthbert’s had the same equipment as Chatterley’s, so I got instant feedback on a computer screen on whether I had hit too hard (red), not hard enough (blue) or just right (green).

By the end of the day, I was able to pass on three out of four different whips - just the heaviest, the bull whip, I failed on. I kept hitting too hard with it, and making it crack (also required to pass) was almost impossible. But still, as Sue said, three out of four is not bad.

“How much time has been set aside for the ceremony on Wednesday?”, I asked as she was showing me to one of the guest rooms.

“It will start at 4pm and should be over by 6pm”, she answered. “But it could take longer. We are punishing three girls, after all.”

“No boys?”

“No. We rarely punish our boys in public. Serious cases are sent to Chatterley or St Claire’s to be punished in front of the young ladies. It’s a good system.”

We had now reached an oak door in what was plainly a part of the school reserved to staff - thick carpets, oil paintings on the walls, all in all very plush. She opened the door.