Readers,
I am always happy to be able to share a piece of spanking fiction from one of my favorite author/contributors, UK Laureate – and this time is no exception. He’s spared no detail in setting another excellent scene in ‘Fouettard’s Academy: First Day of Term’. Enjoy!
– Dana
– Dana
More from UK Laureate:
The Governess Makes a Discovery
(Be sure to click ‘Read More’ at the bottom of the visible text, to display the full story.)
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Fouettard’s Academy: (1) First Day of Term
It was the first day of term at Fouettard’s Academy. Established for almost two years, it had quickly become popular, so much so that there was competition for the six places available each term. Even the founder, Mrs Armstrong, had been surprised how many naughty boys there were out there and at the demand from wives and girlfriends who needed their husbands and boyfriends ‘re-educated’. Husbands and boyfriends? Yes, Fouettard’s was an academy for naughty adult males – “my boys” as Mrs Armstrong liked to refer to them!
Julia Armstrong had developed the Academy based on her experience of retraining her own husband, Brian, over a number of years but also, more particularly, on conversations with female friends who were full of complaints about their husbands’ behaviour but unable to change matters. Nagging, they had found, bore little fruit. What Mrs Armstrong understood was that, despite their appearance, the majority of men remain, essentially, small boys, and that the methods employed in educating and training young boys at school can also be used effectively with adult boys. Never shy to tackle challenges, Mrs Armstrong determined that if no one else would take action, she would.
She chose the name Fouettard’s, based on the French legend that St. Nicholas, patron saint of children and the origin of children leaving out stockings at Christmas in the hope of getting a present, was accompanied by a rough character named Père Fouettard, whose job was to punish children who had misbehaved during the year. Of course Père would be entirely wrong given her belief in female dominance and she considered substituting Madame, but opted for using only the surname. She thought it sounded delightfully exotic and classy.
Fouettard’s was organised on the basis of four blocks or terms of ten weeks per year, with sessions held each Saturday during term-time. Due to limitations of space, but also to the amount of time needed to work on an individual as well as group basis, only six pupils were admitted each term.
At each Saturday session the guys were required to bring with them a sealed envelope containing a report from their wife or partner about their behaviour during the previous week – or, at the start of term, on their longer-term behaviour that had caused them to be enrolled. These were handed in to Mrs Armstrong at the start of the day. During the morning the errant males were required to write their own report on their behaviour, and then, for the remainder of the day these reports were read aloud, discussed, and judged by Mrs Armstrong.
She, of course, had the female perspective, both her own and the wives’ reports, and used this information to guide the discussions and help the boys understand their failings. She also maintained a ‘demerits’ scoring system, linked to what she liked to refer to as ‘special measures’ to persuade the boys of the error of their ways. At the end of each term an assessment was made for each individual to determine whether a further period of training was required.
And so it was that on this particular first day of term, three of the pupils were new, and three were returners, one of which, Wordsworth, was back for a third term.
Having welcomed them to the Academy and collected the envelopes they had brought, Mrs Armstrong set about the introduction to their training.
“I cannot stress enough that you are here to learn. In some ways it is regrettable that there is a need for Fouettard’s Academy to exist. However, the standard of behaviour of the average male is such that, in truth, there should be more Academies like mine, more opportunities for boys like you to learn how to behave in ways that are acceptable and pleasing to women. ‘Opportunity’. That is the important word for you to remember. If I feel that you are using the opportunity given you to good advantage, you will find me positively charming. If, however, I feel that you are resistant to changing your behaviour, then you will discover just how harsh I can be in persuading you otherwise.
I do, of course, require absolute obedience to my instructions, and you will find out quickly that I do not tolerate questioning of my authority, any form of rudeness or childish stupidity, and am not impressed by the seemingly limitless pathetic excuses that you boys seem capable of inventing. And remember always that what I teach you is for your own good, to enable you to enjoy full and harmonious relationships with your wives, partners and girlfriends.”
“But just don’t tell your wife about your girlfriend,” quipped Ernie Wilde, one of the new boys. The somewhat sombre atmosphere created by Mrs Armstrong’s lecture was broken in an instant as smirks and laughter engulfed the room.
Mrs Armstrong was not amused. “Silence!” she roared. “How dare you make facetious comments, Wilde. You are clearly not taking what I say seriously. On your first day here I’m sure you wouldn’t want me to take your trousers down and spank you in front of the class, would you?”
“No, Miss” said Wilde, whose pleasure at what he regarded as a rather clever comment quickly turned to embarrassment at the thought of being treated like a small boy.
“What did you say, Wilde?”
“I said no Miss.”
“How dare you!” Mrs Armstrong thundered. When you address me you will call me Ma’am. I am not a Miss, and as you will find out, when I deal with naughty boys I am extremely accurate. I certainly do not miss. Is that not so Wordsworth?”
“Er, yes Ma’am,” agreed Wordsworth hurriedly. A truly recalcitrant boy, he had only escaped a spanking, strapping or caning on two of the twenty sessions he had attended over the previous two terms. Mrs Armstrong even wondered if he actually enjoyed being punished, but was determined to persevere.
“Oh, and by the way, Wilde, notice that I said that you will find out, not that you may. No boy at this school has yet managed to avoid my ‘special measures’, and I am totally confident that you will not be the first. Your impertinence has been noted, and I shall be keeping a very strict eye on you.”
“Nothing new there then,” Dickens, who was sitting next to Wilde, whispered under his breath. Oliver Dickens was another recidivist, back for his second term. His claim to fame, if it can be referred to thus, was that he had set a new record for the most strokes of the cane awarded to any boy in one term.
“What was that, Dickens?” asked Mrs Armstrong, whose hearing was as sharp as her tongue, and almost as sharp as her right hand. “If you have something to say, boy, say it so that we can all hear.”
“Oh I just said to Ernie that it was clear he was new here, Ma’am.” Whatever Dickens lacked in other ways was compensated by his speed of thought.
Mrs Armstrong frowned. “I’m not sure I believe you, Dickens, and in addition such comment was entirely unwarranted. I’m awarding you five demerits.”
“Yes, Ma’am, thank you Ma’am,” said Dickens, reflecting again how often he spoke without thinking, something that continued to exasperate his wife, and one of the reasons she had insisted on enrolling him at Fouettard’s in the first place.
“Which brings me nicely to the topic of our demerits system,” announced Mrs Armstrong, smiling. It was noticeable how, in an instant, her mood had changed, and her tone expressed her enthusiasm for the topic. “Of course those of you who have returned to the academy are only too aware of our system, and you will sit quietly while I explain matters to our three new boys,” she continued. “Potter, Fleming and Wilde, I advise you to listen very carefully to what I have to say.”
“I shall, of course, monitor your behaviour during the day, and any action or comment that occasions my displeasure is likely to earn you a number of demerits, or an immediate punishment. However, the main award of demerits will come from any disparity between what you report to me about your behaviour and the report I have received from your wife or partner. ‘Sins of omission’, as I like to call them, where you fail to make any mention of something included in your wife’s report, automatically earn you demerits, the number of which will be determined by how serious I regard the behaviour in question. Where you mention a wrongdoing, but have made an inappropriate or inadequate response, this will normally earn a lesser number of demerits. At the end of each Academy session I will count up your demerits total, and anyone with twenty or more will be required to stay behind for a personal interview and the application of appropriate ‘special measures’. The higher the number of demerits, the more severe those special measures will be.”
And so the morning proceeded with Mrs Armstrong explaining more of the procedures of the Academy, the boys writing their confession statements while Mrs Armstrong studied the contents of the envelopes she had collected, and the first group discussion, featuring Wilde’s confession. Along the way a number of ill-advised comments earned the perpetrators an award of demerits, but when Wilde made another wisecrack, similar to his earlier effort, Mrs Armstrong gave him a spanking in exactly the manner she had threatened earlier.
When they reassembled after lunch Mrs Armstrong said that she had an announcement to make. To ease her burden she had appointed a friend and colleague to assist at the Academy. “The aptly-named Ms Kane will be joining us in a few moments. I ought not to have to remind you, but I fear it is necessary, to treat her with the same respect that I demand of you. You will address her as Ma’am, and you will obey her instructions implicitly. Failure to do so will be dealt with severely, and believe you me, she is more than capable of doing so according to the traditions of the Academy.”
The announcement did not go down well. Additional control over their every thought, move and comment was the last thing the boys wanted, and some frowns and furtive glances were exchanged. Before they had time to contemplate further the door opened and in walked a petite and stunningly attractive short-haired brunette, classily dressed in a white shirt and tight-fitting black skirt that ended well above the knee. Several pairs of eyes almost leapt from their sockets and almost instantly a loud wolf-whistle pierced the room. Ms Kane joined Mrs Armstrong at the front of the room.
“Who was that who whistled?” Mrs Armstrong demanded angrily. “Ms Kane, I do apologise for the rudeness of these boys’ behaviour. I think you can see immediately the truth of what I told you, though this is worse than even I feared.”
Turning back to face the boys, she glared and waited. Silence reigned.
“Come along, own up. I ask you again, who whistled?” Still there was silence.
“Very well, then I have no alternative than to award the first, though I suspect not the last, class caning of the term. You boys will learn that women are to be respected, not leered at or whistled at.”
So saying she turned, walked a few steps across the room and disappeared into the room she used as her office. Moments later she returned, holding a mean-looking cane. “One more chance for the culprit to own up,” she announced, but no one did.
“Very well then. Wordsworth, you know the drill, you can be first, Out here boy, bare your bottom and bend over.”
Reluctantly, Wordsworth did as he was bidden and took his place at the front of the room. Mrs Armstrong was just about to apply the first swipe when she stopped.
“Actually I have a better idea. Ms Kane, since you were the one insulted perhaps you would like to do the honours.”
“Certainly, Mrs Armstrong; my pleasure,” said Ms Kane. The thought had already occurred to her but on her first day, and in deference to Mrs Armstrong, she had remained silent.
Mrs Armstrong handed her the cane, which Ms Kane swished through the air a couple of times as she took up her position. The other five boys watched as she landed the rattan with a meaty thwap across Wordsworth’s prominent rump. He flinched but uttered no sound. The next five strokes were delivered in similar fashion and only after the last of them, which was considerably harder, was a stifled cry audible. But then Wordsworth had a hide like leather from the numerous beatings he had taken over the past months.
Potter, one of the new boys, was next and was not so brave. “Let him have it good and hard,” Mrs Armstrong advised her new colleague; “he has already been impertinent and inattentive today, and I want him to learn how misbehaviour is dealt with here at Fouettard’s.”
In truth the first stroke was by no means excessive but it was sufficient to make Potter, who had never been caned before, utter a shrill cry and clasp his hands to his bottom.
“Move those hands immediately,” Mrs Armstrong thundered angrily. “I can see you have a lot to learn, Potter, and believe you me I intend to make sure that you learn very quickly. While you are being punished you will remain still and in position until your punishment is complete. Ms Kane, kindly start again from the beginning. Six more strokes!”
Swish! Thwap! The rattan landed with a snap and Potter again cried out, but this time he managed to stay in position. Swish! Thwap! Swish! Thwap! The strokes continued to land and very quickly some nasty red stripes appeared on Potter’s milky white and unblemished butt. By the time he’d taken all six the boy was yelling and protesting loudly and as soon as he was given permission to stand up he started hopping about as though he was walking on hot coals, even though it was his bottom on fire, not his feet.
In the next five minutes or so the remaining four boys proceeded in turn to take their allotted punishment. By chance, but unfortunately for him, Joe Austen, another of the returners, was the final boy to be punished. By now Ms Kane was, literally, in full swing. As an experienced disciplinarian it was always her practice to build to a crescendo as punishments proceeded, ensuring that the final strokes were the hardest of all. And so it was that Austen was the recipient of six firecrackers that, shall we say, made a very distinct impression, not only on his vulnerable backside but also on his guilty mind. He knew that it was he who, unable to control his lustful delight, had made the wolf-whistle. As soon as his punishment was over his guilt overwhelmed him and he turned to Ms Kane.
“Ma’am, I apologise; it was remiss of me to wolf-whistle you. I promise you it will not happen again.”
“Aha,” cried Mrs Armstrong, “the culprit confesses. The therapeutic effects of the rod are indeed a wonder, and such a boon to those of us with the responsibility for educating naughty boys. However, despite the honourable action of your confession, it is only right and proper, Austen, that your punishment is greater than your fellow students. You will have a further six. Ms Kane, kindly pass me the cane. I will administer these.”
And administer them she did, six of her very best across Austen’s already stinging rump. It was a highly contrite boy who took his place back at his desk.
Seated next to him, Wordsworth was feeling disgruntled. While the poetic justice of Austen getting extra punishment pleased him, and despite being well versed in Mrs Armstrong’s ways, he was indignant at receiving unwarranted lines himself.
.
“Yes, Wordsworth, what is it?” asked Mrs Armstrong wearily, seeing the boy with his arm aloft.
“Please, Ma’am, given that five of us have been caned without justification, surely it is only right that we are all given a pardon from a future offence that we may commit.”
Mrs Armstrong glared at him. “Don’t be ridiculous, boy. Why do you persist with your fanciful ideas? Any more smart-alec suggestions and you’ll find yourself with a very high number of demerits to add to your collection. When I want suggestions I’ll ask for them. Meanwhile, keep your ideas to yourself.”
Now Wordsworth was even more indignant and his mind continued to wander among the clouds as the lessons recommenced.
By the end of the afternoon they had worked through four of the six confession statements in detail, and the other two fleetingly. They had also listened to a lecture from Ms Kane about her experience of male shortcomings. The section on ‘the multiple uses of household implements’ was received with surprise by some and considerable apprehension by all, and the boys had been left in no doubt about her perceptiveness and her ability to deal with situations in an innovative and efficient manner.
It was almost time for the session to end. Mrs Armstrong totted up all the demerits that had been awarded during the day. Wordsworth, unsurprisingly, was top of the list with fifty-five, closely followed by Dickens with fifty. Wilde had thirty-five, which, according to Mrs Armstrong was a record total for any boy at his first session at the Academy, and “a truly disgraceful effort that will be rewarded appropriately”. Potter’s total was twenty, incurred more through naivety than wilful wrongdoing, but nonetheless just sufficient to require him to stay behind.
Only Fleming and Austen were allowed to leave immediately. As a new boy, Fleming had adopted a strategy of saying as little as possible, and was helped by the fact that there hadn’t been time to discuss his confession in any detail. Austen was still sore from the caning he had received earlier and, not desirous of further punishment, had made a super-human effort to stay in Mrs Armstrong’s good books. However, Mrs Armstrong informed the pair that they were unlikely to get off so easily the following week, and advised them to ensure that their weekly report contained the minimum misbehaviour.
After a brief consultation between the two women, it was announced that Wordsworth and Wilde would be dealt with by Mrs Armstrong, while Ms Kane would attend to Dickens and Potter. A score of fifty or above always meant a caning, as Wordsworth and Dickens knew only too well. The sentence for Wilde, whom both women had found intensely irritating, was a severe strapping, while Potter was awarded an extended spanking.
Potter’s relief that he was only to be spanked was short-lived. Perched across Ms Kane’s lap with his bottom bared, he quickly discovered that it was not the mild punishment he had thought. It was many years since he had been in a similar position, and whereas then, as far as he could remember, he had got away with no more than half a dozen blows, after two dozen Ms Kane was just getting into her stride. By the time she finished, some ten minutes later, his bottom was glowing like a furnace.
Stupidly, he then compounded the situation. Having told him to stand up, Ms Kane asked him what he had to say for himself. Instead of thanking her and apologising for his bad behaviour he simply asked if he was now allowed to leave.
“No, you may not,” she replied firmly, “not until you remember your manners and the reason why you are here.”
Potter looked at her quizzically. She remained silent, looking back at him intently and enquiringly, but the boy didn’t catch on.
“Very well, then,” she said after some twenty seconds or so, “you can go and stand in the corner and think about what is required while I attend to Mr. Dickens. And when I’ve finished caning him, if you still cannot think what to say, I shall give you a few strokes to help jog your memory.”
Potter walked away to the appointed corner, still with a puzzled look on his face but desperate to avoid another caning. His first taste of the cane a few hours earlier had hurt both his bottom and his pride, given that it wasn’t he who had wolf-whistled.
In the time it had taken for Potter to receive his spanking, Mrs Armstrong had dealt with both Wordsworth and Wilde. In accordance with her standard tariff of twelve strokes for fifty demerits plus a further stroke for every five additional demerits, Wordsworth was given thirteen strokes of the cane, each one delivered in the manner appropriate to her name. Wilde’s punishment was nine strokes of the strap, a two-tailed Lochgelly tawse that Mrs Armstrong had purchased during a visit to Scotland. However, she did not favour the normal practice of Scottish schools of years gone by, preferring instead to apply the punishment to the seat of learning. Both boys made their way home with burning backsides.
Her duties completed Mrs Armstrong went to witness Ms Kane’s progress. The sight of Dickens bent over a small vaulting horse with his bottom exposed was, of course, nothing new to her, but witnessing his punishment rather than administering it she found both interesting and enlightening. She noted with pleasure how easily Ms Kane delivered the strokes, how with apparently little effort she made the cane whistle to its target, and the highly satisfying snap as it landed. But what she noticed most of all was the sounds emitting from Dickens’s mouth. As a veteran of the cane he could bear more than most but each of Ms Kane’s strokes produced a significant “Aaagh”. How good it was to have such an accomplished colleague to assist at the Academy! She was confident that, between them, they would sort out not only the current set of boys but many more to come.
His caning completed, Dickens duly thanked Ms. Kane and apologised for his behaviour. Potter, facing the wall in the corner, had not witnessed the punishment but had heard every sound, an experience that had convinced him of the inadvisability of earning too many demerits at future sessions. He had also heard Dickens’s words to Ms. Kane, at which point light had dawned about what was expected, and when he was called to see her he immediately offered his own profuse apologies and thanked her for her attention to his needs. How grateful he was to Dickens for helping him avoid any more of that nasty cane!
“Quite a day, Dana,” Mrs Armstrong commented to her new colleague after the last two boys had left.
A quietly satisfied smile spread across Ms. Kane’s face. “Yes, Julia,” she said, “I think I’m going to enjoy working with you at the Academy.”
The end (for now) …. to be continued?
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Excellent, well crafted story. One would hope that these boys would learn their lessons but that’s very doubtful. Thank goodness these boys had the pleasure of meeting Ms. Kane. Perhaps some day this boy will cross paths with Her travels as well and learn a lesson from Her as well. Thank you.
Hi
A good story. Thanks.
I am sure you would run a very tough Academy.
Michael M
The students should consider themselves lucky that they were treated with the leniency they were. The video “Spanked in His Panties Again” is a wonderful start. Were I at that academy I’m certain my defiant taunting behavior could provoke much more severe lessons. Whether and when I will begin taking my well deserved corporeal punishment and behavioral modification is an open question.
Hello, Mistress Kane, and thank you for this most firming story of Female Superiority.
You posed the question: The end (for now) …. to be continued?
I can only say I very much hope so, Ma’am.
A weak male in need of a Lady’s care and attention.