Ruthgardt Academy

From the author:

This was a simple but interesting concept I thought of a while back and wanted to flesh out. Sorry for any mistakes: I've reviewed and edited this enough to know that I definitely missed a few. I'd love to improve my writing skills, so please give any and all criticism you feel is constructive! Thanks and enjoy!

...

"Hello, I'm told you wanted to see me?"

He stepped into her office with trepidation. It was only his second day at Ruthgardt Academy, and he'd only met the headmistress in passing. She was known to be bold, ruthless, and meticulous. Under her leadership, the academy had excelled and developed a fierce reputation. The opportunity to learn under her was what drew him here, despite the rumors and controversy surrounding the school.

"Yes, come in, take a seat. How have you been enjoying the college so far?"

He followed her instructions, sitting at one of the two armless chairs in front of her grand, wooden desk. She sat behind it in a large armchair. Her desk was as tidy as it could be for someone as busy as she was, with a few neatly placed writing instruments interwoven between three columns of paper: one sheet in the middle which he recognized as a checklist regarding his orientation, a small pile to his left he assumed were other files regarding him and his onboarding, and a frighteningly large pile to the right. The wall to the left of the desk was decorated with filing cabinets and shelves. To his right, a small bench over which hung a variety of canes. He was cautious with his reply.

"It's been wonderful. I'm very excited about my future here."

"Good. I trust everyone has done well to help you get your bearings in preparation for the coming semester?"

"Yes, of course. All of the staff and faculty have been great to meet, and very helpful."

"I'm glad to hear that," she responded. "I'll get right to the point. As part of your orientation, you will need to be evaluated and credentialed on our disciplinary practices. As headmistress, I feel it is my charge to take on this part of your orientation personally. What do you know about discipline at our college?"

"I know this school is one of the strictest around, and believes extreme rigor is the key to producing excellent alumni. Did you say that you discipline faculty?"

"Yes. You should have known this. It is in our handbook, not to mention the contract that you signed."

He did know. It was the policy that jumped out at him the most, he just couldn't believe that it was actually practiced. He had decided a while ago that dealing with this strange policy would be worth the privilege of working at such an esteemed institution, but he had still hoped not to pay that cost.

He tried to backpedal his apparent ignorance.

"Sorry, I did see that, I just didn't know it was still enforced. It seemed like one of those old statutes that lingers around but no one really brings up, y'know?" he said with a chuckle.

Her expression remained plain.

"Everything you read in our handbooks, manuals, and other documents is accurate and up-to-date. We demand quality here, and maintain it in every facet of our institution. You will be expected to do the same."

Well, at least he didn't look unprepared anymore.

She broke his silence. "This exercise should be very beneficial for you, then. We will be getting well acquainted with the discipline of faculty." He didn't like the sound of that.

She flipped through her smaller stack of papers and passed him a page. "Have you had a chance to familiarize yourself with our procedures for discipline?" She inquired.

He said that he had, proud to be able to show that he did, in fact, prepare.

"Please study these, and recount them for me."

He recounted the page:

Punishments for Class B infractions are generally administered in private offices or classrooms. Recipients should assume the following, unless otherwise specified by the punishment administrator.

1: The punishment to be administered is six strokes of the cane across the bare bottom.

2: The recipient is to clear away any obstructions to the application of discipline, including but not limited to skirts, pants, and undergarments. Unless specified, the recipient is free to remove or avoid obstructions by any method they choose. Obstructions of any kind will result in further punishment, and may result in additional measures to prevent obstructions as the administrator sees fit.

3: The recipient is to be bent at the waist and remain in position for the duration of the punishment. Failure to remain still during the punishment may result in the repetition of strokes, even if the recipient remains bowed and no obstruction is introduced by the recipient's movement.

4: The recipient must enumerate each stroke within 10 seconds of its administration or the stroke is repeated.

5: The recipient will continue to be subject to all other school rules for the duration of the punishment. The administrator is not required to provide immediate additional punishment for infractions. It is recommended not to provide additional punishment if:

A: The infraction is a necessary or reasonably foreseeable consequence of the punishment, particularly when the administrator has elected to modify the punishment procedure.

B: The administrator determines the ongoing punishment to be sufficient discipline for the infraction.

C: The infraction is Class C or above, in which case its discipline must be handled as a separate event according to the corresponding procedure.

6: The punishment is not considered completed until the administrator indicates as such. Following the punishment, the recipient must thank the administrator. Failing to do so, or doing so disingenuously, will result in repetition of at least two and at most six strokes.

7: After four or more violations of these rules, further infractions will not be immediately penalized unless so determined by the punishment administrator. Instead, the current punishment will be completed regardless of infractions, and the entire punishment will be reattempted 7 days following the initial punishment.*

8: Within 7 days following the punishment, the recipient is to provide the administrator with a report on the infraction for which they were disciplined, their strategy to ensure the incident does not reoccur, and evidence, where possible, that the execution of this strategy has been effective. Failure to complete this report to a satisfactory level will result in further discipline, with the possibility of a full repetition of the disciplinary procedure.*

* If the recipient is unable to complete the punishment successfully after two attempts, it will be escalated to Class C or modified by the administrator to ensure it is able to be completed on the third attempt.

He recounted the last words from memory, hoping to demonstrate his familiarity with the text. As he finished, she rose from her desk and stepped towards the wall displaying her canes. Her hand hesitated a moment before selecting one from the middle, gently striking it against her other palm as if to cement her decision. She turned back towards him, his heart rate spiking when her gaze found him. He saw what he suspected was a vanishingly slight smile in the corner of her mouth betraying her deliberately stoic face. Everyone enjoys messing with the new guy, maybe she just liked seeing him squirm.

"I am going to test you on these procedures. You will be expected to follow them to the letter. Would you like more time to study them, or are you prepared for your demonstration to begin?"

His stomach jumped into his throat, trying to mute him. There was no point delaying, though. He knew the procedures well. He shoved the words out: "I'm ready."

"Excellent," she replied. "Please stand."

He did as instructed, forcing his knees to behave. She walked towards him and offered him the cane, which he cautiously accepted. He had no idea what was going on. He wanted to display confidence, as though he knew exactly what was expected of him and how to deliver on it, so he fought to keep his expression from reflecting his pounding heart and racing mind.

"The floor is yours," she stated.

He was paralyzed, and wondered if she was aware of his uncertainty. Had there been a miscommunication, or was she intentionally playing with him? She had given him the cane, so now what? The only answer springing to his mind seemed too outlandish to consider. Would she think less of him now if he asked? Was she setting him up to fail? He decided that any damage to be done by asking had already been done by how long he had hesitated, and opted for validation.

Slowly, pausing at each word and hoping she would interject, he spit out the question burning in his mind. "Just to be absolutely... clear," he began. "I'm going to... demonstrate... discipline... the disciplinary practices outlined for Class B infractions..." His eyes glanced around the room as he tried to figure out how.

"...on... you?" He finally finished.

"Is there a problem?" She asked.

The silent thoughts in his head were the loudest they had ever been. It wasn't lost on him that it was the least of an answer she could have given, but he still couldn't tell if she was testing his confidence, disappointed in his lack of initiative or preparedness, or just got some sadistic pleasure out of trying to induce him towards a panic attack.

"No, I just..."

He took a deep breath, and let it out. His mind was a whirlwind, but he had to concentrate. He shoved the first step of the protocol to the forefront of his mind.

"Then..." he began with a conditional. If his assumptions were wrong, he hoped this one word would be his bulwark. "You need to prepare yourself to be disciplined." All he wanted in this moment was to avoid being wrong, when every instinct was telling him that he must be making a serious error. At the same time, forcing these words out had brought to mind what this discipline would entail, and he started to be intrigued by the possibility of being right.

She turned towards the desk. It appeared to him that she had begun to comply, but in fact she was just trying to conceal a smirk. She was feeling optimistic about the school's new hire.

"How shall I do that?" She asked in response.

Giving commands to the headmistress of the institution he had just joined, a woman to whom he had apparently given incredible authority, was daunting while feeling so completely on his own. Doubly so with the outlandish commands he was about to issue. Lacking other allies to provide support, he sought comfort in the regulations themselves, deferring to their authority and quoting their guidelines to the letter.

"Per the Class B procedure, you will clear away any obstructions to the application of discipline and bend at the waist." It flowed out of him almost robotically.

"Meaning?" She asked. She wasn't making this easy on him, that was for sure.

"Bare your bottom, and place your elbows on the desk." He heard the words exit his mouth as though someone else had spoken them.

Some part of him still felt certain that this was a miscommunication, that she would respond with disbelief and horror at his words and his time at the college would be over before it began. Instead, to his amazement, she pulled her long skirt up as she bent over the desk. He froze as he watched her reach up and lower her panties down to her thighs in front of him, the new hire she had barely just met. She then propped herself up by her elbows as instructed and awaited his next move.

He inspected this sight as he stepped into position behind and to her left. Propping her torso up had caused her back to form an alluring arch, and his eyes traced this path along her body, past her folded skirt to the rounded bottom she so compliantly presented. He focused briefly between her legs, on the shape he could only barely make out hidden behind the tops of her thighs. Most people would be thoroughly embarrassed and ashamed to ever be in her position, yet she managed to weather it with a confidence and poise he thought should be impossible. She was the one who was compromised, yet he was the one who was suffering.

He contemplated the cane in his hand. He had never used the tool before, and he had no idea how much force to apply with it. He swished it through the air, gauging its feeling. He heard her take a deep breath in response to the noise, the first sign she had shown of any nerves. The easiest road ahead would be for him to spare her, and give the lightest possible discipline to survive the situation he'd been thrust into. This was the easy road, but it was the wrong one. He would rather come across now as harsh and resolute than unsure and ineffectual. He decided his first stroke would be fierce. With a firm grip and moderate strength, he swung.

The cane hissed as it flew through the air, but fizzled out as it landed. He had lost his courage, overthinking and failing to follow through. Having started with a forceful swing, the stroke was still serviceable, but far on the low end of what he would have liked. He watched as an almost imperceptibly faint mark rose up where the cane had landed, mocking his frail courage.

He watched her for a little while, seeing if she would react or give him any instruction, but she simply waited for the next stroke. He took his time and built up courage, running through a mental checklist to ensure he got it right: end the swing stronger, be sure to follow through on the impact, aim for just below the previous spot. He was just beginning his next swing when he caught himself, stopping dead in his tracks. The checklist was missing an item.

She looked over her shoulder at him as he began to speak. "You did not count the stroke. It will be repeated." Her mouth formed a brief smile as she turned back. She hadn't meant for him to see it, but he had, and a weight lifted off his shoulders. He had made no mistake in judging his predicament. She hadn't even made a mistake in neglecting to count. She was testing him, and he was passing.

The next stroke went higher than he intended towards the top part of her bottom, nearing the upper bound of where he knew he could strike. He had started it with most of his strength, compensating in case he again faltered, but finished it strong and followed through as the cane struck. The headmistress gasped in surprise, and jolted forwards slightly, but composed herself so quickly that there was room to doubt she had reacted at all. Afterwards, she stayed perfectly still. A precise two seconds later, her voice rang out for the first time since she had placed her elbows on the hard wood beneath her. "One," she stated plainly. Shortly after, a pronounced line rose up where the cane had stricken her.

He watched entranced as the mark developed its color. Seeing it in its full terror, he had no idea how she was still so composed. Eventually, his nerves shot him back to reality. A minute after the cane had landed, he unleashed it for the third time. His mastery over it was improving, and the stroke fell precisely where he intended to place it, a few inches above the tops of her thighs. It was only slightly less strong than the previous one, but the headmistress was prepared for it this time, and did not react with the same surprise. In fact, the only indication that the stroke had affected her was that, for a few seconds after the impact, she repeatedly flexed her legs and stood slightly on her toes, as though attempting to push the stinging sensation down her body and eject it into the hard wooden floor. Though the pain did not travel, her panties did each time she brought her legs closer together, inching past her thighs to land around her ankles.

Two seconds passed, then six, then ten. At precisely twelve seconds, her voice rang out. "Two," she said, forcing a measured and even tone. He had not been explicitly counting the seconds, his mind far too preoccupied watching the newest stripe raise up from the cane while her body tensed and released. However, he was almost certain it had been more than ten seconds. Hesitantly, he called her out. "You did not count the stroke in time. It will be repeated."

She exhaled sharply, but not in displeasure or chastisement. Instead, it seemed to him preparatory, as though she was expelling her nerves and steadying herself for the next stroke. That is, if she was capable of such a thing nerves. He had ample reason to believe otherwise.

He repeated the stroke, now striking her for the fourth time. It came up only a half-inch above the previous, and again a small step down in cruelty. This was as much luck as skill, as he had meant to hit much less hard and much higher. Nevertheless, he was satisfied with the result.

She took the impact still as a statue. After, she breathed in and out deeply and purposefully, her back losing its arch slightly as her chest inflated. "Two," she said with otherworldly calmness upon exhale, only five seconds after the stroke had landed.

A short while later, he struck a fifth time, having again aimed several inches higher but this time hitting his mark exactly. The stroke was lighter still, as he had focused on accurate placement over accurate force. She responded to the stroke by lurching forwards, much more dramatically than he would have expected given her previous composure. Her skirt jostled and partially unflipped from the motion, but it did not obscure his ability to strike her. "Three," she counted.

He wondered how she was testing him. Surely, her exaggerated lurching had been an intentional move, but why? He mentally recited the handbook. Failure to remain still? Well, certainly, but was it enough? She hadn't moved during the stroke, only after, so it had not affected its harshness. She remained bowed, her hands and feet in position, and she was ready for the next stroke. Should the motion be considered an infraction? Would she have even done it if it was not meant to be one?

He decided the best course of action was to issue a warning. "You must remain still during punishment. Moving any more than that will cause the stroke to be repeated." He was her disciplinarian, but she was still his boss, and for this reason he found it vitally necessary that she understand his exact reasoning. That is, he knew that movement was forbidden, but had determined the motion had not been sufficient to form an infraction. If he had to plead his case later, he figured he could also argue it was a "

reasonably foreseeable consequence of the punishment

," even if he thought she was capable of staying absolutely still.

A sixth strike rained down. She gulped and took a deep breath, unable to fully hide her struggle now. "Four," she said sharply, not giving her voice any time to quiver. Her legs began tensing and relaxing and she rocked slightly back and forth, seemingly trying to shake off or evade the pain. In doing so, he caught glimpses between the tops of her thighs. Momentarily, he saw the light catch what appeared to be a slight glistening between her legs. He dismissed this out of hand as a trick of his mind, which must have shown him just what he wanted to see and not what was really there, his brain overpowered by other forces.

He did not know it, but by this time almost any other recipient would be teary-eyed and struggling to endure the punishment, particularly given the harshness of his strikes. This is why six was determined to be the appropriate number of strikes for a standard punishment, yet she still had at least two left.

By now, the marks from his earlier strikes had darkened further, and he began to really consider the power he was wielding. She was taking it in stride, but had he gone too far? The softer, latter strikes seemed to be a reasonable shade, and he emulated them in the next one.