For her own good

My husband and I arrived home late on a Thursday evening and this has been rather wonderful timing because we have had time to lull about at home and get over our jet lag and exhaustion. Even better, my cough is virtually gone and I feel kind of cheeky again, which means I feel like my old self. Good news, right?!

Believe it or not, I spent most of Saturday fast asleep which is some kind of miracle. But, in and out of sleep I must have been, because in my thoughts I was constantly being spanked, in one scenario or the other.

Sometimes, I was back at school. It was a very strict school (what a surprise!) and on my first day my parents and I were taken in to see the Headmaster. He wanted to confirm with my parents that they understood that he believed strongly in the benefits of the cane for his girls. My parents assured him that they were in total agreement.

Then, he wanted to check that I had not brought to his school any panties. Girls in his school, he said, were forbidden from wearing panties because they were inconvenient for Masters and gave a girl the impression that she had rights, which she did not. Again, my parents assured the Headmaster that they agreed and that no such panties were in my suitcase nor on my body. When my parents had waved us goodbye, the Headmaster escorted me back to his study to initiate me in his ways. Better, he said, to begin where he meant to end.

Whilst the idea of receiving discipline from a woman in real life holds zero appeal for me, in my dreams there is often a very strict Matron who works in conjunction with the Headmaster, and so it was yesterday. Whilst the Headmaster handled issues of a serious nature, it was Matron who dealt with minor matters, such as girls giggling in the hallway, or talking after lights out. She had one of those expensive Mason Pearson hairbrushes I saw all round Europe in pharmacies and she used it liberally. Being stout, she had no problem in taking a girl over her knee and it was her way to issue a sentence of so many minutes; say, two minutes of hard spanking with the brush for not making one's bed with the specified corners.

It didn't end there. The Headmaster had all sorts of rituals for his girls and one such ritual was a monthly enema, which he considered good for "our health", followed by an inspection of our "holes". Once a week, we were given a class on our "true purpose" and we needed to get good grades in this subject, along with all our subjects.

No girl was allowed to do poorly and when a girl received a low grade, she was given a second chance. True to form, Masters at the school dealt with poor grades in a traditional way. A girl was soundly whipped and once that was completed, she was given time to review the lesson, after which she was allowed to re-sit the test. It was with pride that Masters noted that all girls performed to a most satisfactory standard when given this personal attention. The school maintained an exemplary academic standard and as well, graduates of the school were considered to make outstanding wives. It makes sense, doesn't it?!

I was beaten consistently all Saturday - all for my own good. Such a lovely way to spend a Saturday!