Six of the Best! The Headmaster forgets, Emily makes an error, Oswald has an opportunity.

Oswald Turnbull grew up in a small country town, where he acquired only a very limited social sophistication but did well enough in the local school to win a scholarship at London University. There he acquired an only slightly expanded social sense but did well enough to gain a good degree in mathematics. Despite the fact that he was a friendly and attractive-looking young man, he had managed only a few polite dates with female students and had had no sexual activity, beyond a visit to an adult review that had left him shocked, though deeply curious. He now had a qualification for a job, but little idea of how to find one.

Teaching was the obvious answer and he was soon hired, at a third-rate private school for girls in a country backwater, by the headmaster, the Reverend Calder. It was like returning to his roots, although in a very different part of the country. Perhaps, he thought to himself, he might get to the bottom of what he really wanted to do. He had no idea of the odd ways in which such a wish might be granted.

At the school, he did rather well in unspectacular ways. He found himself by far the youngest master and, in the view of many students though entirely unknown to himself, the only one of romantic interest. Several, indeed, developed the characteristic schoolgirl crush on him. His headmaster, the Reverend Calder, observed quite different aspects and was delighted to find a young mathematics master who seemed reasonably intelligent, though clearly reserved and somewhat unworldly. Since all the other teachers were either elderly or barely competent, he was soon treating Oswald effectively as assistant headmaster.

This required little but a few administrative chores and personal discussions, until one day, in the middle of the first term in Oswald' second year, the Reverend Calder had to go to London for a conference with his bankers. He left his assistant with minimal instructions and no expectation of any unusual event.

On the long train journey to London, the Reverend Calder suddenly remembered something. One of his senior girls, Emily Forster, had been caught smoking. He had summoned her to his office and, being particularly short of time at that moment, had informed her that she would have to return to his study at 4:00 pm two days hence, when she would be punished by six-of-the-best with the cane. Unfortunately, being rather an old dodderer, he had forgotten about his trip to London, for which he was leaving the next day. It was his appointment with Emily, now the following day, that he had now remembered.

The problem had a larger context. The Reverend made modestly extensive but peculiar use of the cane. He got a distinctive thrill from seeing the bottoms of his youthful female charges bared to his gaze and he always required offending students to lower their knickers, pull up their skirts and bend over to touch their toes. He also enjoyed the ritual of swishing his cane across their exposed cheeks. But it was essentially a ritual, inflicting minimal discomfort on his pupils, and the strokes were so feeble that they left barely a pink mark. He certainly got some gratification from observing such pink lines across the young bottoms with he was so enamoured, but he would never have trusted his ailing physical ability even to try inflicting anything more severe. Thus the girls hardly minded the punishment at all, except for the embarrassment. Even this, for many of them, was hardly a serious matter. They regarded the Reverend as such a doddering old fool that exposing themselves to him seemed more of a joke than anything else, although he was known as "the Dom," for Dirty old man. Furthermore, allowing themselves to be treated this way was a sure route into his favour, and he would grant this in such forms as a secret addition to their pocket money funds, or even an unspoken understanding that they could continue to play truant so long as they expected to return to his study at intervals. The school was, as we have said, in a rural backwater and had little pretense to academic distinction. Other people, especially his staff, either did not notice or ignored such goings on among the senior girls, who were mostly over eighteen anyway.

The Reverend's first reaction, on remembering his appointment with Emily, who had visited his study before, was, "Bother! I shall have to deal with this when I return!" But then he began to turn over in his mind other notions that were equally characteristic of him. He had an utterly unjustified belief that he was an efficient and reliable administrator. The idea that Emily might think he had simply forgotten began to seem unacceptable to him. The nearer the train got to London, the more convoluted his thinking became.

He did, at least, have a notebook with addresses and telephone numbers in his baggage and so it was, when he got to his hotel, that he telephoned Oswald. Oswald was surprised to hear from his headmaster.

"Is anything wrong, sir?"

"No! Why should there be?"

"It's just that you hadn't led me to expect … "

"I simply did not have a moment to talk with you before I left for the station!"

Oswald knew this was quite untrue, but he listened politely.

"As you know, Oswald, I insist on running a very disciplined institution and I do not eschew the use of corporal punishment when it unfortunately becomes necessary!"

Oswald was indeed surprised by this remark. He was vaguely aware that the Reverend would summon girls to his study for a caning at regular intervals. But he was socially so oblivious that he had never thought about it.

"Er, why yes sir! But is this a problem?"

"No! Of course not Oswald! It is simply that I had been obliged to inform Miss Emily Forster… you certainly know her for she must be in your senior class …"

"Yes sir, indeed I know her… she is a charming young lady …"

"Yes, I agree she is a charming young lady. Unfortunately she was tempted to hide behind the chapel and smoke a cigarette. She was discovered and, as a result, I informed her that she would have to report to my study to receive six-of-the-best. I was obliged to make that appointment for her on Wednesday, which is tomorrow."

Oswald had only the faintest glimmer of where this conversation was heading. "Well, I'm sure that was very appropriate, sir … and you will attend to it when you return?"

"My boy, I shall be here! In London! You know I am a stickler for discipline, and I consider that when arrangements for disciplinary action have been made then they should be kept. I am simply requesting that you perform this duty for me."

Oswald was stunned, barely able to reply. "Er … you … er mean, sir … that you wish me to … er … administer six-of-the-best to Miss Emily?"

"Yes, of course, my boy! What do you expect? You're the assistant headmaster! What could be more appropriate!"

Oswald still did not know how to respond. "Er … yes, of course, sir! … That would be entirely appropriate … it's just, sir, that … I haven't ever done anything like that before!"

"You mean you haven't given a girl six-of-the-best?! Well, of course you haven't! I've never asked you to! But you will find, in our profession that it is a very useful, even an essential skill … and I might even call it an art! And you have to start somewhere! You are, are you not, handy with the squash racket?"

Oswald replied, as modestly as he could, that yes, he liked to play squash. In fact, it was one of his few abilities apart from maths.

"Well! Then you will doubtless manage very well - you can simply substitute a cane for your racket and a bottom for the ball!"

Oswald strongly suspected that it would be more complicated than that, but he felt obliged to demur to the Reverend's rather startling request. A sudden surge of panic emboldened him, however, and he found himself saying, "I … er … mean … sir … that I … er … don't know what you actually say to a girl when you are going to cane her, or even what you actually DO! Or even where you keep the cane!"

The Reverend paused for a few moments, as he digested the fact that indeed, there was no reason why Oswald should have any idea at all of what transpired when a girl reported to his study for a caning. In some ways he was very glad of this, but he realized that he had opened something of a Pandora's box. For a moment he was tempted to cancel his entire request, but he entertained, as we have noted, a largely unjustified view of his own reputation and was anxious not to appear mistaken. He contemplated what his practices normally were when a girl reported for punishment, and tried to review them as best he could.

" Ah … hmm … the canes are hanging in the cupboard to the left of my desk. There are three of them but they are all the same … you may use any one that you wish. It is, of course, and I'm sure there is not really any need to explain this, my firm belief that, if you are going to use a cane, then you should use it properly!"

There was a silence at the other end of the line as Oswald tried to imagine what "properly" might be. The Reverend felt obliged to continue. "That, ah … er … means that I always administer the cane across a bare bottom … otherwise, why use it?! So … er … I ask the young lady who is present for the correction of her behaviour to pull down her knickers … to her knees is sufficient … to fold her skirt up securely around her waist … it must be securely … and to bend over and touch her toes!" He felt relieved to have found his way quickly to this point. "When she is in this position … and, I must say … that they are usually capable of understanding what is required of them very well … then I think your common sense will be entirely adequate to guide you in the rest!"

Oswald, gulping air at the other end of the line, barely managed to utter sounds of assent and finally a promise to do his best.

When the telephone conversation was over, both the Reverend and Oswald were left in considerable confusion, Oswald because both the entire conversation and the headmaster's request were completely beyond anything he had expected, and the Reverend because he simply had not had the intelligence to think through how the conversation was likely to go. They both went to bed that night with troubled thoughts. The Reverend had by then decided that contacting Oswald was a dreadful mistake and he almost telephoned him again to cancel the request. But then, he thought, he would seem even more foolish. And then his worry simply increased. He really should not have mentioned the Record Book. That was quite unnecessary and Oswald would discover which girls visited his study and also that some of them did so rather often. Oh bother! It was too late to change that! And he had not even told Oswald how hard the caning should be, but he did not want to let him know that his own use of the cane was … well … so feeble, since his interests really lay somewhere else … or at least actually right there, but the cane was only an excuse. Well perhaps, he tried to reason, Oswald seemed such a mild mannered person that he wouldn't do much more than tickle Emily's bottom. And then, of course, he remembered that Emily's bottom was one his favourites and began to regret deeply having ceded it to his assistant, at least on this occasion.

Oswald, for his part, knew nothing about Emily's, or any other girl's, bottom. He was realizing, indeed, that he knew nothing about any of this.

But so it was, at about 3:30 the next afternoon that Oswald went to the headmaster's study, realizing that preparing for this event might not be so simple. He had seen Emily in class that day and she was her usual breezy, slightly cheeky self, apparently without any care in the world, certainly in regard to Oswald himself.

Once in the headmaster's study, Oswald looked around with a peculiar sense of uncertainty. He had been in this room often before, of course, but had not imagined it as a scene of punishment, even with the Reverend as the protagonist, so oblivious was he normally of such matters. But this was not normal at all, and the room looked curiously different. He tried to imagine Emily standing there, and then bending over, although this latter image was more or less beyond even his imagination. Where would she stand? In what direction should she face? He realized that he did not know about even such essential preliminaries.

Seeking a more tangible object, he went to the appropriate cupboard and opened it. There, indeed, three crook-handled canes were hanging. They were all the same length but one of them was slightly darker, with a higher degree of polish, both at the handle and for about a foot of its business end. He guessed this must be the one that the Reverend normally used and took it down, rather nervously, from its hook and began to examine it. He had once been caned, long ago as a schoolboy, and remembered it as surprisingly painful. But, even on that occasion he had not really seen the cane itself and had certainly never seen one since. The implement now in his hands was smooth and thin, and seemed surprisingly long, about 3 feet he guessed. Thinking of his squash racket, he wondered why it did not have a more substantial handle. But the crook seemed to fit quite comfortably against his wrist and his young, strong, hand had no difficulty in gripping it firmly. He waved it up and down, gingerly, and was even more surprised at its extreme flexibility. Its entire length seemed to whisk up and down for a moment before straightening and becoming motionless again. He waved it a bit more vigorously and was even more surprised when it flexed so rapidly and so sharply that it slapped against the leg of his trousers. He grasped the business end with his left hand and bent it carefully. It was extraordinarily resilient and he found he could actually bend it into a "U" without it threatening to break. Clearly it was not bamboo, as he had assumed it would be, even though its smooth length had a couple of knots. This was certainly no squash racket! He wondered what exotic kind of cane it was made from.

Then he suddenly woke up to the fact, almost unbelievable, that the purpose of this remarkable instrument was the beating of young women's bottoms. Despite the obvious reason for his visiting the Headmaster's study, this realization struck him as somehow extraordinary, and it made him look anxiously at a clock on the wall. It was 3:45. He still had 15 minutes but he still had important matters to clarify.

It was obvious that simply waving the cane to and fro was not good preparation. It was so bendy that it needed some target. He looked around and saw the roundly padded back of a couch, so he went over and tried striking it with the cane. He soon discovered the difference between a light blow, which simply made a modest "whap" and a movement that was vigorous enough to produce a "swish" through the air and a sharp "thwat" when it landed. He also noticed that this latter made some dust rise from the couch and left an impression in the material that lasted for a few seconds. To his squash player's eye and mind this seemed rather satisfactory and he repeated the experience a number of times, raising the cane well above his shoulder and swishing it rapidly down to produce the satisfying sound. He started to enjoy in its feel. Realizing, rather vaguely, that he was shortly going to be involved in some physical activity, he took off his jacket and hung it on the back of the door.

He still had not tried to plan the coming event in any detail, mainly because he still did not know what any of the details were, and his imagination was still completely failing him. The couch remained a couch and he had no way of translating it into a female bottom. Then he remembered the Reverend's remark about the record book and promptly found it on the shelf. It was surprisingly thick, with a hard, black cover. He opened it … and was immediately astounded at the large number of entries. They all had the same form, beginning with a date, continuing with a girl's name, and concluding with the unvarying words, "six-of-the-best." The Reverend was certainly a creature of habit. He turned to the most recent pages, noticing that there seemed to an entry approximately every two weeks, on the average, and soon finding Emily's name, first once, about five weeks previously, and then again, earlier than that. Well! At least she would know what to expect!

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. He looked up at the clock in a near panic. Gracious! It was 4:00! He had quite forgotten how the minutes were passing! He looked around frantically … he certainly wasn't ready, but he did not dare keep the young woman waiting after the Reverend's remarks concerning such matters. "Come in!" he called, very nervously. Nothing happened and he almost began to hope that she'd gone away. Realizing that he had not called very loudly, however, he called "Come in!" again, more loudly.

The door handle turned. The door opened, and Emily's face appeared, cheerful as when he had last seen in her in class. For a moment she stared at him, surprised. It was obvious that she was taken aback, both by the Reverend Calder's absence and Mr. Turnbull's presence, but she seemed to recover immediately recovered and an even more cheerful smile spread across her face. "Oh! Mr. Turnbull! I was expecting to see the Reverend!

"Ah .. .um … the Reverend had to be away, quite unexpectedly … and he has … ah … umm … asked me to substitute for him."

Emily seemed quite unperturbed, "Oh, that's quite alright! Really!"

Goodness, Oswald wondered to himself, quite uncertain as to what her response meant.

'Shall I come in, sir?"

"Yes, yes, of course! Please come in … and shut the door behind you! Do you know why the Reverend had asked you to come at this hour?"

"Oh yes! Of course, sir! I am to be given six-of-the-best!" Oswald was looking at her even as he tried to absorb her reply. He had been aware that Emily was an attractive young woman, but his observation of women was normally somewhat repressed. Internally, he certainly reacted to their physical attributes sexually, but consciously he tended to avoid any thoughts about such things. He had previously thought of Emily mainly as a face but now was forced to notice her figure as well. Of medium height, with a persistently cheerful face framed by short, black hair, she was well proportioned but trim. Oswald still tried to suppress repress thoughts of what this implied beneath her school blouse and skirt. She had by now closed the door behind her and was standing in front of the desk, where he was still sitting, increasingly nonplussed. She looked down at the desktop and he suddenly realized that the cane was still lying there, where he had placed it to search for the Punishment Record. He was, for some reason, embarrassed by this, but Emily apparently was not.

"Oh! I see you've got the cane out already! The Reverend always asks me to fetch it for him!"

Oswald felt even more nonplussed but realized that he had to say something.

"So you have … er … been caned before?" This despite the fact that he already knew from the record book that she had been.

"Oh yes sir! Three times!"

Goodness! One more even than he had discovered. Emily appeared to think that this required some explanation.

"It's not that I'm a really bad person! I just tend to give into temptations …and this time someone gave me a cigarette so I thought I really ought to try it! Just to be experienced, you know!"

"Ah .. umm … quite so! Well, I'm afraid it has now landed you in this rather unfortunate predicament!"

"Yes sir, I quite understand! That's quite alright!"

This was certainly the most peculiar conversation that Oswald had ever had … even more peculiar than the one with the Reverend that had led to this moment. He had to do something, but what next? "Ah … er … well, we'd better get on with this unpleasant business, hadn't we?"

"Oh, of course sir!" She did not appear to expect anything unpleasant and, indeed, seemed peculiarly content with the prospect of an activity that was threatening to send Oswald into a paroxysm of panic. He, of course, was entirely ignorant of how the Reverend managed his private interests. Emily was entirely familiar, and even happy with it. Her first visit to the Reverend's study had certainly not been planned, for she had skipped Sunday chapel quite confident that she would not be missed. She had been and it had become obvious that a visit to the Reverend's study was imminent. In a panic at that time, she had started asking other girls who she knew had been caned about what would happen. By the time the event had actually occurred she had been well informed about what to expect: the request for knickers down and skirt up, the bending over, a sense that the Reverend was most of all interested in observing her bared bottom and even her private parts. a caning that was only mildly painful, and a subsequent, mysterious boost to her pocket money account. As a young woman who was cheerfully prepared to garner benefits of modestly flirtatious behaviour, with the encouragement of some fellow students she had then fallen in with a second and specifically suggestive opportunity that had led to another visit to the Reverend's study, and then a third. She had found its surprisingly easy to position herself in ways that she knew were particularly revealing and had even felt pleased at herself when they had resulted in the headmaster's quite blatant contortions as he took advantage of these provocative offers. It did, in fact, give her sense of power since he was, in a way, quite obviously under her control. The canings were little more than a tickle and the benefits increased each time. She was perfectly happy at the prospect of her fourth visit.

When she had opened the door she had been completely surprised to see Mr. Turnbull sitting there, and had even noticed the odd fact that he was in his shirt sleeves but, being a smart young woman, adapted with barely a blink to this unexpected situation. Two factors combined in her reaction: one was that, like many of the girls, she thought Mr. Turnbull was romantically attractive and that here, quite fortuitously, was an opportunity for a private exchange, even if possibly a very peculiar one; the second was an immediate assumption, or at least a very strong hope, that the well-accepted understandings and distinctive attractions of a visit to the Reverend were still in place, but now with a much more intriguing hand holding the cane. She was, optimistically, even more cheerful and even inviting than she would have been with the Reverend.

Oswald, entirely ignorant of all of this, had picked the cane up from his desk, still with an odd sense of embarrassment, risen from his chair and walked around it towards the space where Emily was standing, frantically thinking of how to issue his next order. He realized that he didn't even know where she should stand.

Emily solved the problem for him. She moved back from the desk but remained facing it, now turning her head towards where Oswald was standing to her left. "The Reverend has me stand here … is this alright?"

"Er … yes … of course! Thank you!" Oswald suddenly realized the absurdity of these last two words, but Emily only smiled more sweetly. Oswald struggled to continue, "And … uh … will you prepare yourself please!" His ardent wish that he could rely on her experience was granted. With a more serious expression, now looking at the floor, she reached down to the hem of her skirt and then brought her hands up and under it to find the waistband of her knickers. With a slight wriggle of her hips she pulled the crumpling blue knickers down to her knees. They were the first schoolgirl knickers that Oswald had allowed himself to look at for more than a split second. But this moment did not last much longer because Emily had now pulled up the hem of her skirt and was beginning to tuck it securely into the waist. The folds of her skirt were lifted higher and higher, up her hips, even above her hips, until Oswald was at last confronted with a stretch of bare female skin, from the top of her gray socks, up past the blue knickers crumpled around her knees, up her thighs to the startlingly sudden expansion of her bottom, up over the swelling and then narrowing curves, up to Emily's s waist where the material of her skirt had somehow been almost completely tucked away. Oswald could only stare in wonderment, too embarrassed even to look away.

Even this amazing moment was fleeting, for Emily quite deliberately turned towards him and asked, "Is this alright sir? … Shall I bend over now?"

Oswald was incapable of speech for a few moments and Emily seemed happy to wait for his answer. In turning to ask him, she had also turned her hips. The result of this was that her front was now quite visible to him, her firm schoolgirl stomach with its tummy button, her thighs and, of course, between thighs and stomach that converging triangle of the female form so celebrated by Venus, and between the thighs themselves that equally celebrated narrowing V with, in this case, Emily's dark, soft pubic hair, covering the most celebrated of all aspects of female anatomy as this turned in under her body and out of sight. But what was in sight was much more than enough to paralyze Oswald for a moment for, apart, from the offerings of art, the only previous opportunity he had to observe any of this was in his single, secretive visit to an adult review during his days in London, where two naked women had stood on stage, still as statues, during part of the performance. Now it was all right in front of him, presented by this charming young lady from his maths class, with an innocent smile on her cheerful face. That this charming face was not exactly innocent became embarrassingly apparent when her eyes flickered downwards for a moment, to where Oswald realized with sudden horror that he was becoming distinctly aroused. In his horror he did not dare make any move to disguise this fact and, when Emily's eyes immediately reverted to his face, her insouciant charm apparently uninterrupted, Oswald desperately tried to convince himself that she had not seen.

Goodness! What had she said several moments ago? Oh of course! She had asked him if she should bend over. "Ah … uh … yes please!" He still could not help his absurd politeness. "Yes, will you please adopt the position that your … ah … experience has … ah … made familiar!"

Once again Emily rescued him. She turned back to face the desk, slid her feet about eighteen inches apart, and bent right over till her fingers were touching the floor. Unsuspected by Oswald, of course, she had turned her face away partly to allow him to manage the bulge in the front of his trousers that she had knowingly observed. Oswald was simply grateful for the opportunity and hurriedly made some adjustments to his crotch, desperate to make his reactions invisible. He was not entirely successful but Emily, sweetly, pretended not to notice.

But his mind continued in a whirl. Just before she had turned he had had a momentary glimpse of the light coloured carpet between her thighs. This had silhouetted her crotch, dark against the light background, and he had registered a fleeting but entirely clear outline of her sex, like a very shallow, rounded W, and a few whisps of hair. Ignorant as he was, he knew that the ultimate secret of females was hidden within some kind of a groove that ran between their thighs. The knowledge that he had glimpsed this temple of sex, even if so briefly, span in his mind.

The events, so confusing that they threatened to overwhelm him, continued. He was now confronted with Emily's bottom, bared and raised before him as the wondrously rounded summit of a body that was naked from socks to waist. He stared in wonder at its perfection, expanding in such surprising and charming rotundity from the tops of her thighs, its paired spheres swelling up on either side of the deep cleft until the cleft shallowed and disappeared into the small of her back and the smoothly rounded, pale spheres gracefully narrowed and subsided into her waist, just below where her skirt was tucked in. And Emily, her face now inverted, was still turned towards him, her expression still expectant and her eyes as cheerful as ever. "Is this right, sir?!"

"Yes, it … it … is!" stammered Oswald, managing to omit the thanks this time. His mind was cannoning frantically between two seemingly irreconcilable realities, which were nevertheless now presented to him as completely singular. One was the cheerful face of Emily in his class, and the other was her entirely naked bottom, now specifically and incontestably proffered for his attention. Even though the sight of her pubic area had shocked him, at least he had seen this aspect of female anatomy at the London review. But the show, perhaps surprisingly, had not given him any view of the female bottom and he found himself almost more taken aback by what he now saw, so close and so explicitly presented as a focus for his own activity.

He found himself thinking that Emily's bottom was one of the most entrancingly attractive sights he had ever been granted. The roundness of those two parallel spheres, a perfection of parabolas! And though he had been aroused by the sight of her pubic area, somehow he found himself becoming even more excited by what he was now staring at. With no sexual experience or education, he knew almost nothing about what was hidden between her thighs, but he certainly knew that such secrets lay within the place to which his eyes were irresistibly drawn, that confluence of curves and creases, where her cleft, the lower edge of her bottom cheeks and the junction of her legs all came together.

Emily understood well how to charm men with her bottom as well as with her face, and she sensed that she was doing very well. She knew what was going on in Mr. Turnbull's mind and she deliberately tilted her hips up a little higher, sticking her bottom out a bit further, for she had seen the foolish smile that would grow on the Reverend's face when she made presented herself in this way. Things seemed to be going well, although she realized that they were still a little precarious.

Oswald gulped several times, knowing he had to find some way out of his growing paralysis. He suddenly remembered the cane, hanging from his right hand. He forced himself to speak, "Ah, yes! Well let us begin then!" The cane had abruptly brought to his mind the very recent memory of his experiments in smiting the sofa. His psyche at once inverted itself, like Emily's face. He knew what to do and suddenly felt sure he could do it.