Achewood Academy

Achewood Academy By Betty Blyton ©2011 by Blushing Books® and Betty Blyton

Copyright © 2011 by Blushing Books® and Betty Blyton All rights reserved. No part of the book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. Published by Blushing Books®, a subsidiary of ABCD Graphics and Design 977 Seminole Trail #233 Charlottesville, VA 22901 The trademark Blushing Books® is registered in the US Patent and Trademark Office. Blyton, Betty Achewood Academy eBook ISBN: 978-1-60968-523-2

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Chapter One Dearest Crispin, My sister Jane is set to arrive at Achewood this term. She will be in Birch House as I was, so you shall be her House Master. We all have high hopes for Jane. She is not looking forward to attending the academy, but I hope that she comes to enjoy her time at Achewood as much as I did. Please watch over her, she is the youngest of the family and she can be difficult. She has a good heart however, and a rare mind. I am sure that with some firm guidance she will blossom into the woman we all know she can be. Fondly yours, Genevieve Whittaker (nee Munsford) “I shan't ever marry!” All around the charming room eyes widened and jaws dropped. The speaker grinned at the consternation her little statement had caused amongst her peers, a group made up of the young women sitting about on the carved wooden beds in the bare dormitory, their suitcases at the end of their beds waiting to be unpacked. Prior to the blasphemous statement, the ladies had been doing one another's hair and discussing their hopes for matches amongst the aristocracy, but they fell dumb when one young woman interrupted their conversation rather brashly with an opinion that was not just unexpected, but quite disturbing to most of the room's occupants. They stared at her, trying to work out what kind of woman would not be interested in marrying, but her appearance did not give much away in the form of clues. She was well dressed, in fact, her dress was one of the nicer ones being worn in that room. It had been made of a blue sateen edged with white lace. The bodice was well fitted and there were pearl accents cresting the shoulders, following the neckline after the new fashions. It was a dress that could have taken its wearer anywhere. As for the woman wearing the dress, she was perhaps not beautiful, but she was certainly interesting to look at. Her skin was clear, though there was a dashing of freckles across her nose, and her blue eyes were rimmed with dark lashes that made them quite intriguing. Her hair was not sleek and perfectly coiffed like that of the other women, it had been scraped back into a simple pony tail and it would have taken the very keenest of eyes to spot the smallest traces of mascara that she'd applied to satisfy the requirement that all Achewood ladies 'did their faces' each day. It was the first evening on the first day of the new intake at Achewood Academy. It was not the first day of term, because term had started a month earlier when returning students began classes. New entrants began a month later, the idea being that it was best to introduce the new ladies to their peers when school was in full swing. That way the new ladies were integrated seamlessly into the day to day goings on instead of bumbling about the place getting underfoot whilst things were being put in motion. Just that morning the new entrants had assembled outside the great iron gates of Achewood and tentatively stepped onto the hallowed grounds. It was a sunny day and they had been treated to the fine

sight of other Achewood ladies walking about the extensive manicured lawns with genteel sweeping gaits that made them seem to hover over the ground rather than walk upon it. Graduates of Achewood had earned themselves the moniker 'Angels on Earth' over the years, and as the most prestigious finishing college in the land, Achewood sought to keep its reputation. Achewood Academy had just twenty 'new girls' that term, though they were hardly girls anymore. Their ages ranged from nineteen to twenty three. The oldest of the new students at Achewood, and the woman who had boldly sworn off marriage, went by the name Jane Munsford. She did not appear well pleased to find herself at Achewood and aside from the occasional inflammatory remark, abstained from the excited chatter the other ladies in her five bed dormitory were engaging in. She had wasted no time in establishing herself as a rebel, but in some matters she had complied with expectations. Her dress met Achewood requirements with long skirts that swept the floor and a bodice that held her figure firmly. Unlike some of the other new entrants, she had not corseted herself into her dresses. Jane regarded corsets the sole terrain of the feeble minded. Jane was not feeble minded, though she had some very strange ideas. She was twenty three, the perfect age for marrying, but she had not been fibbing when she declared to the shocked women in the dormitory that she didn’t want to get married at all. No, Jane had other plans, other exciting plans. “Not get married,” young Hettie White gasped, clutching at her chest dramatically. “That’s blasphemy. To the gallows with you!” Hettie was just nineteen, a petite ice blonde beauty who could have found a match wearing a burlap sack. Achewood would almost certainly be benefiting more from having her amongst the ranks than she would benefit from being there. “It’s not blasphemy,” Ivy Gaines interjected. “It’s just weird.” Ivy was not as fortunate as Hettie. That wasn't to say she was in any way ugly. She had a perfectly serviceable face and a figure that responded well to a corset. Unfortunately she had such a prickly temperament that her face was folded up into a sneer almost constantly. At twenty two she was fast aging out of eligible marrying age. Achewood would have its work cut out with her. Jane smiled at Hettie. She didn't mind if other women wanted to get married as long as they didn't force their opinions on her. She opened her mouth, hoping to skewer Ivy with a witty riposte, but she was denied the opportunity. There was a knock at the door and one of the older students, a woman named Madeline who all the new entrants aside from Jane had held in awe since they first laid eyes on her at orientation that morning, informed them that it was almost one o'clock, and being so it was time to report to their new houses as house meetings were about to begin. Madeline would be graduating in a few short months and she was a picture of Achewood perfection. Her dark hair was pinned up in a series of swirls that were almost a work of art in themselves, and her lips were colored the perfect shade of red, not so dark as to draw too much attention away from the rest of her face, not so light as to make her look crass. She was of average height, but she appeared much taller in the three inch heels that she walked in with incredible grace. Jane privately thought she looked rather like a giraffe, but she did not share the opinion with Madeline who had a certain hard edge to her beauty that told the observer she would not be crossed lightly. Jane had been assigned to Birch House, so had Hettie as it turned out. The other girls had been split up amongst the two other houses, Oak and Rowan. Ivy was to be a Rowan girl and the remaining two

women, Rebecca and Christine would be in Oak. Each of the houses had its own color, its own code and its own common room, Madeline explained as they went downstairs, taking the large spiral staircase at the heart of the Academy. Achewood Academy was a sprawling sandstone building built on three levels. The lowest level contained the administration and schooling areas. The middle level contained boarding facilities and the dining hall. The top level was the domain of the masters, and the new entrants had already been very sternly warned off going up there without express permission. Jane and Hettie stood rather close together, taking comfort in one another as Madeline ushered them into the Birch House common room. It was already full with twenty or so other women sitting on chairs placed conference style across the room. Every single one of them turned to stare at Jane and Hettie as if they were circus curiosities. Jane did not enjoy being examined in such a fashion, but for once she was glad that she'd allowed mother to pick out her clothes. In her nice blue dress she rather looked the part of a generic new entrant. At the front of the room there was one master and one mistress. The mistress was a severe looking older woman whose make up was put on a little too thickly and had started to crack, giving her the appearance of an old porcelain doll beginning to disintegrate under the stresses of age. The master, well, the master was an entirely different proposition being a good deal younger than his female colleague and a great deal more handsome. He had dirty blonde curls that, coupled with his pale complexion, gave him a rather angelic appearance, and a wide smile that threatened to split his face in two. His nose was perhaps a little too long, but it was straight and his jaw was a strong one, full of character. Madeline was kind enough to introduce the pair to the house and save them the trouble of stammering their own names. “Master Crispin, Mistress Eldritch, these are the new girls, Jane Munsford and Hettie White.” “Welcome ladies,” Master Crispin made an expansive gesture with his hands and beamed at both Jane and Hettie as they hurriedly took seats. As the new entrants were soon to learn, Master Crispin was not the best looking of the masters, that honor went to Master Godwin, with his piercing aqua gaze and flowing dark hair. Crispin was not the youngest of the Masters either, that title belonged to Master Jakes, who was already making quite a name for himself in his mid-twenties. Master Crispin was not the most senior, or the harshest, or the smartest of the Masters, but he possessed two qualities that made him a popular talking point amongst the Achewood ladies. First there was his broad smile which was said to be bright enough to light a room. Secondly, there were the stories that he was sometimes seen carrying a thin switch. There were many rumors about Crispin and his switch. Some said that if he used it on you, you had to pull your panties down and show him your bare bottom. Others said that it hurt so much you would cry real tears after three strokes. Unbeknownst to those treading the squeaking boards of the the rumor mill, the stories about Master Crispin’s switch were mostly just that, stories. Achewood ladies were, for the most part, well behaved young women who respected the masters and mistresses and usually obeyed them without question. It was unthinkable to disobey a master or quarrel with him. So Master Crispin’s switch was more of a prop than anything else, at least until Jane Munsford turned up. Jane found the meeting very boring. She didn't know what was being discussed and she didn't much care. She sat at the back of the room with Hettie and let the droning wash over her, wishing she hadn't

been forced to go to Achewood at all. Great Aunt Mary's will had been quite specific though, Jane didn't get her inheritance money until such time as she graduated from Achewood Academy. So there she was, entirely overdressed for a Tuesday and about to spend three years of her life playing tea party with a bunch of people who took the whole thing very seriously indeed. It took an hour or so for the meeting to conclude and with every passing minute Jane became more impatient. She wanted to go back to the dormitory, dig out a book and find somewhere quiet to read until dinner time. That was her plan for surviving the years, she'd just read her life away and hope that they left her alone. When day dreaming failed to engage her she spent some of the time glancing at Master Crispin. When he spoke she was much less bored, he had a pleasant deep voice that soothed the most savage of beasts, an impatient female. She enjoyed his voice all the more when she discovered he was announcing the end of the meeting. Jane was about to head for the dormitory when one of the upper students pulled her aside. “Master Crispin will see you at three o'clock.” Jane's heart skipped a beat. Had she been that obviously not paying attention? Was she in trouble already? “Did I do something wrong?” “No,” the older woman shook her head. “You'll know if you do something wrong. This is just a meeting that Master Crispin likes to have with the new entrants.” That rather put a spanner in the works when it came to creeping off. She barely had an hour to get ready for her interview. Hettie was already rushing off upstairs, clearly she'd been summoned first. She was lucky. Jane had an hour to worry about what was going to happen next. She didn't want to be at Achewood and she didn't want to participate in its culture. She planned to do the bare minimum to get by. She would attend classes, pass exams and get the heck out of there, all the while spending as much time away from the place as possible, that was what she would do. In spite of not caring about what happened at Achewood, Jane none the less spent the hour before her meeting with Master Crispin pacing back and forth in the dormitory. She was not experienced with men, she had not been overly closely supervised as a younger woman, but her choice of companions had always been female. What would Master Crispin be like in person? Now she thought back on it, he did seem to be a rather broad and vigorous man, and she would be alone with him in his office! It was with a slow feeling of growing dread that Jane dragged herself up the stairs to the third floor and knocked tentatively on the door marked CRISPIN. “Come in, come in,” Master Crispin called cheerfully. Jane opened the door and tip toed into the office. Master Crispin was standing by the far window, his tall frame silhouetted against the glass. He turned as she came in and welcomed her with a smile. Master Crispin had curly flaxen hair and hazel green eyes that sparkled when he smiled. He was not an overly large man but he was at least six feet tall. He wore the black robes that all masters wore very well, his shoulders were broad enough that the robes draped rather than slouched off him in a manner that made them look depressed.

“And who do I have the pleasure of meeting?” Master Crispin said charmingly, asking the question as if he had not been introduced to her a couple of hours earlier. Clearly she had not made much of an impression on him. “It’s me, Jane, you wanted to see me,” Jane stammered nervously. Jane was not normally a woman given to stammering, indeed her usual demeanor was more akin to that of the proverbial bull in the china shop, but the master had her off balance already. “Ah yes, Jane, the newest member of the house, do come in and take a seat.” He gestured to a rather plush and comfortable looking arm chair. Jane took the risk of stepping into the room all the way and closing the door behind her. She sat down in the chair as primly and properly as she knew how. It was a grand attempt, but she'd never paid too much attention to what was proper and what was not and as a result her legs splayed out under her blue dress in a way that would hardly be called proper. “You look familiar,” Master Crispin said, looking at her with his head tilted as if she was a particularly interesting shrub. “Have you had an older sister come through Achewood?” “My sister Genevieve went here ages ago.” Master Crispin's eyes lit up with memory. “Ah yes, you are Genevieve's little sister. I trust she remains well?” “She's saddled with a husband and kids, if that's what you mean,” Jane replied rather sullenly. It would seem that Crispin couldn't keep her name straight in his head for two hours but he remembered Genevieve from years ago and apparently did so fondly. Even at Achewood Jane would be unable to escape her perfect older sister's shadow. Master Crispin seated himself in an adjacent chair and beamed at her with a smile so radiant it almost melted her sullen resistance. “And you, Jane. Are you enjoying your time at the Academy so far?” It was one of those soft ball questions that people ask to be polite, but Jane was either not familiar with polite social protocol or she didn't care. “Not really,” Jane confessed. “No? Why not?” Jane shrugged. She knew very well what she wanted to say. She wanted to say that she found Achewood Academy stifling and boring. She wanted to say that she had no intention whatsoever of becoming an ‘Achewood Success Story’ - one of the women who married well and gained a reputation in society for being bright, witty and charming. But none of that was acceptable to say to a master, so she said nothing at all.

“I glanced at your previous grades before you got here,” Master Crispin said. “They’re very good indeed.” “Thank you,” Jane smiled, becoming almost luminescent from the praise. Being appreciated for her mind put her at ease and stroked her ego. “You’re obviously a hard worker,” Master Crispin noted. “You should do well here.” It wasn’t the case of course, Jane was one of those lucky people who can remember almost anything as long as it is explained to them in a way that makes sense. “Most classes aren’t very hard,” she said, wishing almost immediately that she hadn’t said it. “Is that so?” Crispin chuckled. “If the classes are too easy, we can work on an extension program. We wouldn't want you getting into trouble as a result of boredom.” He flickered her a wink that bordered on the rakish and Jane heard herself emit a high pitched giggling sound. She was feeling more comfortable, and feeling more comfortable meant behaving more comfortably, which for Jane, meant shifting around in her seat and tucking her legs under her body so that her feet were no longer on the floor, but pressed against the upholstery. “Is the floor made of lava?” Master Crispin asked the question mildly. “I'm sorry?” “You seem to be eager to keep your feet off it,” he noted, raising his brow at her. “Oh,” Jane untucked her legs unwillingly. It wouldn't do to forget what Master Crispin was, a man charged with teaching the ladies in his care proper decorum and behavior. He was an educator of the mind, but he was also a trainer of the body and within the walls of Achewood Academy at least, an absolute authority. Jane's enthusiasm for the conversation dimmed considerably as she remembered those things. “How are you fitting in otherwise?” Crispin moved the conversation on seamlessly. “I don't know,” Jane mumbled. A master was hardly a confidante. Even if she'd been inclined to share with him, it would have been ill advised to do so. “Do try to speak clearly,” Master Crispin said. He was chiding her, gently, but chiding her none the less and Jane took umbrage. First the lava floor comment, now her manner of speech. She supposed he'd be putting books on her head and making her walk about the room gracefully next. “Now, what was it you wanted to say, Jane?” Prior to attending Achewood Academy, Jane had been a perfectly happy, perfectly free young woman

with plans to travel the world. If it weren't for her Great Aunt's outdated idea that all young women to undergo 'finishing' she would have been as far away from her native country as possible. She'd tried to convince herself that it wouldn't be so bad at Achewood. It had one of the best reputations in the country after all. The First Lady herself was an Achewood girl. But now she was finding that no matter how revered the institution, it was still an institution. She had hoped to skim along under the radar until graduation, but it already seemed that was not going to happen. Very well. If she was to be badgered about her behavior, she would give them something to badger her about. Jane looked at Master Crispin, met his multiflecked eyes and spoke very crisply and clearly. “I do not like it here. I have no intention of marrying and it is a waste of my time – not to mention yours.” The words left her mouth and the silence stretched out. She steeled herself for an outraged explosion from Master Crispin and a lecture about traditional values and a woman's role in the home, but none came. He simply looked at her thoughtfully and steepled his fingers in front of him, nodding to himself. “Pray tell, Ms Munsford, why do you wish to abstain from marriage?” “I have better things to do with my life.” He smiled, the skin around his eyes crinkling warmly.“Such as?” “I wish to travel,” Jane explained. “I have always wanted to visit the African continent.” “A lofty goal,” Master Crispin murmured, then nodded along as Jane explained her plan to travel from Egypt, down the Nile to deepest, darkest Africa, where she hoped to meet tribes people who had never been met before. Most of the people Jane had shared her travel plans with laughed at her or became quite angry, but Master Crispin listened quietly as she babbled on, talking about crocodiles larger than a man and pygmies who barely came up to your waist. Jane talked on and on until she quite ran out of things to say and then she stumbled verbally to a halt, suddenly realizing that she'd been rabbiting on quite animatedly for quite some time. “... so that is why I don't feel the need to be married,” she finished. “Well, that is quite well thought out,” Master Crispin said. He had gotten comfortable during the long story and he sat there with his hands laced over his stomach, one leg crossed over the other at the ankle. “So you see I feel that I have very little to gain here,” Jane explained. “One wonders why you have come then?” “Because my family believes they know what is best for me,” Jane spat scornfully. “It is clear that you are a spirited young woman, some might even say willful,” Master Crispin observed mildly. “It is more difficult to fit in if one is strongly opinionated.” “I don't care about fitting in. The others only talk about getting husbands.” “It is a fine thing to be a wife, Jane.” She gave him a dour look as she spoke dryly. “You would know, I suppose, do you have much experience as a wife?”

Her cheek elicited a frown from Master Crispin. The easy going expression faded from his eyes and was replaced with a hard look. “That kind of attitude is unacceptable. You will please refrain from such flippant remarks or I will be forced to discipline you on our very first meeting, which would be a pity.” “Fine,” Jane folded her arms over her chest and stared out the window. Master Crispin was not the fine fellow he had seemed to be at first. He might be a relatively young man compared to some of the other Masters, but he was clearly as stuffy as anyone else in the place. Crispin interrupted her inner tirade. “Tell me, Ms Munsford, were you subject to much discipline growing up?” Jane shrugged. She was the youngest of five, with three brothers and an older sister. Genevieve had been married for several years and already had two children, with a third on the way. Her oldest brother Tom was likewise attached and his wife was due to produce another child any day now. The middle brother James was due to marry in the spring and the youngest brother Nigel was courting a fine young woman the family approved of. It hadn't occurred to anyone that Jane might not dutifully follow along in the tradition, so Jane had not been subjected to any rigorous discipline. She had been left to her own devices to a large extent, by the time she was of an age to start getting into any serious trouble, Genevieve was already being courted, a process that had consumed their mother entirely. “I don't know.” “Were you ever physically chastised?” That was an odd question, Jane thought. “No,” she said carefully. “Hm,” Master Crispin said. “That might very well account for it.” “Account for what?” Master Crispin's eyes twinkled. “For your rebellion, Ms Munsford.” “I am not in rebellion,” Jane said, taking a large slice of umbrage. “I have a plan, that is all. A plan I shared with you in confidence,” she said, folding her hands in her lap and pursing her lips together in a way that might have made Master Crispin feel very small indeed, if he were the sort of man who ever felt small at all. “It is a plan that rather sets you at odds with the world as it is,” Master Crispin said. “That will make life difficult for you.” “I don't mind difficulties,” Jane declared. “It's boredom I cannot stand. The others, they cannot wait to cook and clean and bear babes,” she screwed up her face as she spoke. “A life time of laundry and they cannot wait.” “Perhaps they feel that, being Achewood girls, their station in life will not include the laundry.” “Even better,” Jane said, her lips thinning. “A life of vapid parties and drinking at ten o'clock in the morning...”

A sound interrupted her tirade before it could begin. A low, rumbling sound that seemed to be forcing itself out of a man who was very much trying to repress it. “Are you laughing at me, Master Crispin? “No, no, not at you,” he held his hand up, calling for pause as he recovered his composure. “Dear Jane, you are an idealist. We do not see many idealists here.” Jane was not sure if he was on her side or not. On the one hand, he seemed sympathetic to her views, if more than a little amused by them. On the other, he worked for the system that oppressed her. It would be foolish to trust him entirely. “Well I shall not be here forever. I would suggest that I am left to serve my time in peace and when I get out I will be free to pursue my plan.” “And how do you intend to finance these travels?” “That is my affair.” “Indeed,” Master Crispin said, glancing at his watch. “Well Jane, it was very nice to make your acquaintance.” He stood up and offered her his hand, concluding the interview in no uncertain terms. The abrupt end to their conversation caught Jane off guard somewhat. She stood and shook his hand, wondering what the point of the meeting had been. Had he simply been taking her measure? “I have no doubt we will meet again,” he said, squeezing her hand warmly. He was correct, although he could hardly have predicted the circumstances of their next meeting.

Chapter Two Dear Genevieve, I have had the pleasure of making Jane's acquaintance, and I can assure you that she made quite an impression. She certainly has a mind of her own, which I will endeavor to ensure is directed to the useful and the good during her time here at Achewood. Your friend, Crispin Jane's trepidation about attending Achewood quickly turned into outright loathing of the place and everything about it. In her first weeks she felt entirely isolated from her peers by merit of her staunch belief that a woman should provide for herself and she found the mandatory housekeeping classes that were smattered about in between academic subjects to be utterly intolerable. “Why do I need to know how to knit?” She challenged the mistress one overcast Wednesday afternoon. She was doing her best to handle the wool and the needles, but she was not naturally adept with crafts in the way that many of the other ladies were. Some of the women produced quite wonderful goods that could have been purchased at a store. Jane's efforts invariably looked like something that had been subjected to a prolonged and violent attack. She had managed half a row of stitches in the time it had taken Hettie to knit a small jumper for a teddy bear. “A woman who can clothe her family is very useful in times of need,” Mistress Eldritch replied quite sensibly. Mistress Eldritch was a tall woman with gray hair scraped back from her face and held in place with two sharp knitting needles that would probably have made quite fearsome weapons. It annoyed Jane that the reason made sense. If it had been a silly sexist reason she could have thrown down the needles in protest, but as it was she had to admit that being able to spin and knit wool would probably be very useful, even in continental Africa. There were a few spiteful giggles as she persisted at learning the skill, giggles that made her miss several stitches and transformed the scarf into a wooly colander before she had gotten to the third row. “Hey, shut up would you?” Jane glared over at the little group which was unsurprisingly led by Ivy. Since the very first day Jane and Ivy had been at loggerheads. They were forced to room together in the dormitories and though they traded beds so they could be as far away from one another as possible, they still managed to get into spats almost every night. Even the sight of Ivy's pancake face irritated Jane in ways she could not begin to describe. Ivy didn't reply, at least not to Jane, she instead leaned over to Rebecca and whispered something that made her laugh. “Bitch,” Jane muttered under her breath. “Mistress Eldritch! She said a rude word!” Ivy's hearing was better than Jane had given her credit for, but Jane wasn't concerned. Surely Mistress Eldritch wouldn't look kindly on such a juvenile attempt at tattling? “Jane Munsford! I have had enough of you creating a disturbance!” Mistress Eldritch took the opportunity to come down on Jane like a tonne of bricks. “If there is so much as a peep out of you this lesson you can excuse yourself and take a failing grade on this class.”

Jane felt her face flushing. It wasn't fair. She hadn't done anything wrong, they were just picking on her because they felt she was different. She'd never been the victim of bullying before and she didn't intend to start being one for Ivy and Mistress Eldritch. Still, she didn't want to fail, so she put her head down and focused on knitting yet another line of mostly deformed stitches. In spite of herself, she could feel a pricking at the back of her eyes as tears formed. She felt terribly alone and completely unwanted. Before she broke down in front of the class, which would have been the equivalent of slashing one's arm open and jumping into shark infested waters, Hettie reached over and squeezed Jane's arm reassuringly. Jane gave Hettie a watery smile. Hettie was a wee bit on the dim side, but she was at least a decent person, which was more than most of her cleverer counterparts could say for themselves. “Loser,” Ivy whispered whilst Mistress Eldritch's back was turned. Oh well, Jane thought to herself. In for a penny, in for a pound. If she was going to get kicked out of this class, she'd make sure it was worth it. Taking the knitting needles in one hand, pointy bits facing outwards, she cast herself across the small space that Ivy had counted on protecting her from Jane's wrath. “Help!” Ivy squealed, trying to fend Jane off as Jane advanced, waving her needles menacingly. “I'm not doing anything,” Jane declared. “I'm just going to wave these needles like this and if you get in the way, that's your problem.” She brought the needles down hard just inches from Ivy's ear with a grin that bordered on the maniacal. “This is how they solve problems in Papua New Guinea, you know,” she said quite conversationally as she took another stab at Ivy. If Ivy had any sense, she would have tried to stop Jane by perhaps taking the needles from her, or giving her a good kicking in the shins, but Ivy had no idea how to deal with a physical threat. She'd spent her life destroying others by snark. Even the most cutting remark was no match for sharp, hard needles. Ivy was quickly reduced to wailing for help and falling backwards over her own chair. Fortunately for Ivy, Mistress Eldritch had no such problems getting physical. She might not have been in the first bloom of youth, but as anyone who has been put in a position to know is well aware, women in their later years gain a hard wiry strength about them. They've survived life and children and there's not much they can't or won't tackle. Mistress Eldritch was one of these women and she took quick action, taking Jane by the scruff of her neck and pulling her away from Ivy. Jane opened her mouth to argue, but Mistress Eldritch slapped her across the cheek very hard indeed and Jane's argument turned to a squeal of pain. “That's quite enough out of you, young lady,” Mistress Eldritch declared firmly as she bodily dragged Jane out of the room. *** Delightful. That was the word Crispin used to describe Jane in his mind after their first meeting. Quite charming, though she did not seem to be aware of the fact. He understood why some of the other girls were suspicious of her, but his experience told him that there would be just as many who were drawn to what Jane was saying. That could potentially breed quite a bit of unrest in the ranks. He would have to keep an eye on her.

She was more like her older sister than she probably realized, though Genevieve had been perhaps a tad more graceful and a great deal happier to be at Achewood. He'd been a young master when Genevieve had gone through and truth be told, he'd had a crush on the older Munsford. It had never amounted to anything of course, but in her last year at Achewood Genevieve had become quite a friend of the young Master Crispin. They still corresponded by mail occasionally, though Jane seemed to be unaware of that fact. He had made a mental note to gently chide Genevieve in his next letter for failing to warn him about Jane's tendency to cause trouble. She'd mentioned that her sister would be attending Achewood, but she had certainly omitted pertinent information about the younger Munsford's temperament. He had not seen Jane herself as yet, but he received several reports from Masters and girls alike about Jane. She'd taken to declaring her intention not to marry at almost every opportunity it seemed and she was not above causing a disturbance if she didn't immediately see the point in an exercise. A sharp knock at his office door roused him from his reverie. The door opened before he could call for the knocker to enter, and he heard Mistress Eldritch lecturing some unfortunate about waiting in the hall. There was no time for pleasantries when Eldritch did step inside his office with a tale that sounded completely ridiculous. “Jane took to one of her fellow students with the pair of needles, declaring that she would skewer her like a cannibal from Papua New Guinea.” Mistress Eldritch's lips were so thin that they practically disappeared. “Then we can assume she is up on her Geography,” Crispin joked. Mistress Eldritch scowled in the way only a woman in her sixties can scowl. Her entire face was drawn into the effort, from her forehead to her chin, everything became lined and skewed. “This is unacceptable. You are her House Master. I expect you to deal with the incident.” “I can assure you that I will,” Crispin replied with his usual smoothness. Jane was called in from the hall and arrived still clutching the knitting needles in her hand. She looked rather upset. Her brow was furrowed darkly, her lower lip pressed out into a fierce pout. Her hair was mussed up around her head and there was a pink mark across her cheek. It would appear that Mistress Eldritch had slapped her at one stage or another. “Do come in Jane,” Crispin welcomed her with a warm smile. There was no point in thundering at her, it would only drive her deeper into the rebellion she was already sunk in waist deep. Fisticuffs were rare at Achewood, but they did happen on occasion. Any facility housing a hundred women was going to see conflict. The fairer sex usually preferred scandalous gossip and sniping as a means of getting at one another, but every so often a student would resort to more physical attacks, which could be very vicious indeed. Crispin had seen deep scratches inflicted by fingernails, clumps of hair pulled out, and gashes from jewelry. As far as things went, Jane looked to be in one piece, which was good news. He would not have to write to her sister and explain that she was killed in a freak knitting incident. Mistress Eldritch withdrew and left Crispin with his furious charge. “I want to leave!” Jane declared. “I have had enough of this horrible place.” “What happened?” Crispin did not tell her to calm down, for there was no better way to wind a woman

up than to tell her to calm down. “Ivy wouldn't stop whispering about me, so I jabbed her with a needle,” Jane said, giving a rather muted view of her part in the afternoon's excitement. “I see,” Crispin nodded. “And Mistress Eldritch took her side of course, because Ivy does nice knitting and Mistress Eldritch only cares about knitting and misery,” Jane continued. Crispin felt slightly sympathetic towards Jane, but standards had to be maintained. “Do you understand that shall have to punish you for this?” Jane clutched the knitting needles tighter still. “In what manner?” Her eyes darted towards the cane that hung on the wall. Crispin had never used the cane, but he found that it played a role in reminding a lady of the possible consequences of misbehavior. “I am a great believer in corporal punishment,” Crispin said. “I find it imparts the message.” Jane drew herself up to her full height and fixed him with an admirably steely gaze. “Did you know,” she said quite primly, “that a crocodile can be subdued with a good whack to the nose?” “I did not know that,” Crispin said conversationally, moving towards his desk. “I wonder what effect that treatment might have on a Master,” Jane said in a manner that strongly suggested she was not so much wondering as planning. Crispin stopped in his tracks and turned partially, looking at Jane half over his shoulder. “Was that a threat, Jane?” Jane did not reply, and so Crispin turned around fully to face his student. She had a look of great determination on her face, her jaw was set and her pretty blue eyes met his gaze without so much as a flicker. For a moment, just a moment, he felt that perhaps he might have met his match with this one. He shook the feeling off quickly, she was playing the game of dominance and doing so admirably well, but he would do it better. He did not speak, but he slipped off his robes. The robes were good for keeping up appearances, but they did tend to swish around in entirely inconvenient ways when one was dealing with an errant student. He was wearing black dress pants and a white shirt underneath the robes. He began unfastening the small gold cuff links that held the cuffs together. He placed the studs on his desk and rolled up first one sleeve, then the other. Jane watched him silently, playing the game along with him. A great many women would have filled the silence with nervous chatter, but not Jane. She was not going to beg for lenience, indeed at that point Crispin was fairly sure she did not believe that he would actually lay a finger on her. She had not been exposed to physical discipline, so she had little idea what she was facing. When he was quite prepared, his forearms bared to the elbow, he opened the desk drawer dedicated to implements of discipline and reached for a paddle. His hand hovered briefly over the oak before

moving on to a stiff leather version. Jane was a brave girl, but this was her first spanking and regardless of how badly she had behaved, he did not want her first experience over his lap to be a hellish one. Plenty of disciplinarians believe in belting the living hell out of a miscreant, but it had always been Crispin's philosophy that a spanking was effective not only because it was painful, but because the recipient submitted to the disciplinarian. Jane was showing no signs of submitting any time soon. She stood very stiffly in the middle of the room, the knitting needles still clutched in her right hand. A certain whiteness about her knuckles was the only sign that she was not entirely at ease. “You are not familiar with this method of discipline, so I will walk you through it,” Crispin said quite kindly. “You assume the position, which in this case will be over my desk.” He pointed to the wide polished wood desk. “I raise your skirts, because you won't feel a thing through them and apply this paddle to your seat.” What little color there was in Jane's face had drained away. “Master Crispin, under no circumstances will you be viewing what lies underneath my skirts,” she said with haughty determination. “I assure you, Jane, this is not done with anything but the purest disciplinary intentions.” Crispin was accustomed to maidenly embarrassment with regards to the raising of skirts. After all, a proper lady did not display herself to anyone but her husband. But discipline was a necessary evil, and those who crossed the masters soon learned that it was not their virtue they had to worry about when their skirts were raised by a master, but their behinds. “That is irrelevant,” Jane shook her head. “It will not be happening to me.” “I'm afraid it must Jane, your behavior today was very serious.” “So expel me.” A small gleam of light in her eye made Crispin wonder if this hadn't perhaps been Jane's plan all along. Was she trying to get herself ejected from Achewood Academy? “We do not expel our charges, Jane. Once you sign yourself into our care, you become our ward. We deal with you as is necessary.” Jane's expression became decidedly uncertain at that point. The session was taking a great deal longer than it needed to. Crispin was aware that many of the other masters would probably wrestle her over the desk and belabor her bottom until she promised to behave better in future, but he had a feeling that approach would not work well for Jane. She was clearly not opposed to engaging in physical altercations herself, and it was unseemly, not to mention counter productive to get into wrestling matches with his charges. So instead of forcing the situation immediately, Crispin waited, letting Jane come to terms with her situation. “I will not submit to such a barbaric practice,” Jane said, seating herself in one of the armchairs. It was a wise tactical move. If he had been thinking of pulling her forward, that task just became a great deal more difficult. The smallest smile played at Crispin's lips as he watched Jane delicately and subtly do her level best to avoid the punishment she had coming. “I assure you it is not barbaric. It is quite effective and in many cases, satisfying to the recipient.”

“Satisfying?” “Tell me Jane, how are you feeling at this moment?” “Unhappy,” Jane replied. “And what else?” He spoke gently, coaxing a deeper, more honest response out of her. She frowned, as if she didn't know why she was answering him. “Most concerned and twisted inside.” “You are nervous, perhaps? You have the uncomfortable feeling of having known that you did wrong, that you are in trouble?” A faint blush rose to Jane's cheeks. “I suppose that could be considered an accurate description.” “Once we are finished with this paddling, you will no longer feel that way. You will be entirely absolved. You may even find yourself more at peace with your situation at Achewood.” “Unless you intend to batter me about the head until my brains fall out, I doubt I will feel more at peace with Achewood,” Jane said dryly. Crispin allowed himself to laugh. “Very well, at the very least you will be absolved. Shall we get the unpleasantries out of the way?” He made a gallant gesture towards the desk, as if he were inviting Jane to partake in something a great deal more amusing than a spanking. She shook her head. “I cannot fathom doing such a thing.” “It is quite common I assure you. The fact you were spared punishment as a child is not working in your favor at the moment.” Jane looked from Crispin, to the paddle, to the desk and shook her head. “I cannot.” He did not lose his temper. He recognized that it was not simple defiance, she really was struggling with the idea of submitting to such treatment. “Perhaps it would be easier for you in a different position,” Crispin suggested. “Over my lap, for instance?” He walked over and sat in the chair beside Jane. It was devoid of arms, which made it perfect for the business of spanking. “All you need do is come here and allow me to take care of you.” Crispin's voice took on a low, dreamy quality as he extended his hand towards Jane. “Take my hand, dear girl.” Jane lifted her hand and slipped it into his. It was a small movement, but it sealed her fate. With her slim hand in his grasp, Crispin had no trouble gently easing her towards him and over his lap. She tumbled the last few inches in a whirl of skirts, but he caught her easily, her soft body finding safe harbor over his thighs. “Are you alright?” She did not reply, she nodded. “Very good,” he said. “Now I will raise your skirts and we can begin.”

He swept the heavy fabric up and over her back with practiced ease. The position was somewhat unorthodox, most of Crispin's charges were punished whilst bending over the desk or sometimes over a chair. On occasion he would have a particularly uppity madam touch her toes. The over the knee position was somewhat more intimate than any of the others, not necessarily in a sexual way, but certainly there was much more bodily contact. Crispin could feel Jane's every movement as she squirmed about, struggling to find a comfortable position. She was supporting herself with her hands on the floor, her legs outstretched, her feet off the ground by a few inches. Her bottom was positioned perfectly over Crispin's thigh, and although she wore regulation thick cotton bloomers, he could tell that she was a shapely young woman with a full bottom, the sort of bottom that is made for spanking. Her skirts cascaded up over her back, but her waist was visible, as was the sweeping curve where waist became behind. Crispin patted the rise of Jane's cheeks paternally. “There we are my dear,” he said encouragingly. “This is tolerable, is it not?” Jane made a muffled sound that could have been assent. Crispin took it as such. Jane was not the sort of woman to be shy if something was amiss. “We will begin,” he said, reaching for his trusty paddle. “With six strokes.” He placed the paddle slightly below the apex of her cheeks and took a practice swing without landing the blow. Jane was tense over his lap, so he placed his hand on her lower back to steady her and perhaps provide some comfort. The next swat was not a practice. He brought the paddle up high and swung it down with a fair amount of vigor. It contacted her buttocks with a loud slap. Jane bucked forward over his lap with a cry of surprise. Crispin knew very well that the swat was not overly painful. Her modesty and senses were protected by the thick underwear and he was not paddling her with his full strength. The second stroke followed quickly on the first and the third closely on that. Jane gasped through both of them, squirming her bottom over Crispin's lap. This was why he so rarely offered the over the knee position. A young woman in her prime squirming and gasping over his lap created distractions of a pleasant, though inappropriate kind. He felt a stirring in his loins and so applied the final three strokes with a brisk walloping action, playing the paddle over the lower part of Jane's cheeks. Jane took the paddling like a champion. She emitted a slight squeal on the final stroke, but other than that she was very composed. Crispin was well pleased and he told her as much as he helped her up from his lap, her skirts falling into place over her paddled bottom. “That was not so terrible, was it?” Crispin made for his robes before his state of arousal could be noted. He shrugged them on quickly and did not turn around until the folds of the fabric were once more covering his body. “No, it was not terrible,” Jane admitted. Her cheeks were flushed and there was a light in her eye that made Crispin smile. She had enjoyed her first spanking. A lesser disciplinarian might have considered that a failed lesson, but Crispin knew better. Jane would not balk next time she was to be spanked, and there would almost certainly be a next time. She was too contrary a young lady for there not to be. “Well I hope you have learned your lesson,” he said, injecting a little more authority into his tone. Jane smirked. She actually smirked at him, her lips curling in self satisfaction. “I have learned a lesson,” she said rather archly.

Crispin walked back towards the young lady and gently reaching out, took her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Do not make me regret having gone easy on you, Jane.” He spoke in a low rumble, an intimate tone that bordered on the inappropriate. Jane stared at him as if he'd suddenly grown an extra head. Her pupils dilated as she gawped at him and her bosom rose and fell quickly as she breathed faster with excitement. He snatched his fingers away quickly, recognizing the signs of stricken arousal in his student, but it was too late, she was looking at him with unfettered lust. She might not have known what it was. When she went away, she would perhaps think it a crush or worse still, love. But Crispin knew women well enough to read their responses and Jane's physical being responded to him with an immediate willingness that concerned him greatly. “I won't take you for granted, Master Crispin,” Jane said, bobbing into a little curtsey. “Very good,” he said gruffly. “Then you are dismissed. Run along now girl.” A pang of hurt flickered across her face. He'd chosen his words carefully, to remind her that he was the master and she was a mere girl. It was not entirely true of course, Jane was so much more than a mere girl, but she didn't need to know he viewed her that way. He watched as she gathered her skirts and rushed out of his study, but even when the door closed behind her he did not feel better. A sense of foreboding filled his body even as images of Jane's rolling red cheeks flashed through his head. Jane was not the only one who had found a new crush during the course of their meeting.

Chapter Three Dearest Crispin, I think I sense a little humor in your last letter. I do hope that Jane's 'impression', as you put it, did not result in any long term damage to staff or students. I think if there is anyone who can make Jane see sense, it is you. She has always had a tendency to run wild, but I believe that if she is shown a steady hand, she will come to her senses. You will persevere with her, won't you? She can be quite charming when she is subdued. Yours in gratitude, Genevieve Achewood Academy remained a rather miserable place for Jane, but there was a bright spot on the horizon in the form of Master Crispin. Thoughts of him filled her day and much of her nights too. It was difficult to get particularly close to him, he didn't teach any of the introductory classes, so there was but one way to get to see him – getting into trouble. Jane threw herself into her new trouble making persona with great gusto and found that being bad was much, much more enjoyable than being good. She tried all manner of pranks, stealing all the chalk in the building, short-sheeting all the beds, swapping the salt and the sugar about so that everybody screwed up their faces at tea time. Her pranks culminated in a stealth attack waged one dinner. It was the fault of the dinner ladies really, because the bread rolls were stale. If they had not been stale then Jane wouldn't have gotten the idea of slicing the bread into slices and frisbeeing it across the dining hall and into the kitchen. The first piece went almost unnoticed, but having proved the concept, Jane set about making a veritable arsenal of bread slices then unleashed them, skimming them above the heads of the dinners and making them skid into the kitchen like stale missiles. It would have been best if Master Crispin were on duty that evening but instead it was Master Jakes who stood at the front of the hall all flashing eyes and wild dark hair and demanded that the culprit step forward. Many of the ladies at the academy had crushes on Master Jakes, as the youngest of the Masters he was a very eligible match indeed. More than one young lady wheedled her way into his office after hours to ask about one thing or another and there were rumors, just rumors mind, that he took a few of them up on what they offered him. “Come forward now!” He was just shy of yelling. Being a young Master, Jakes was keen to enforce his authority and became most upset if it was flouted. Jane didn't step forward right away, even though all eyes were on her. Instead she frisbeed a slice of bread at Master Jakes' head. It missed, but the point had been made and laughter ensued as he jumped away at the last minute. “Jane Munsford!” Jakes thundered at the top of his voice. Jane was rather flattered that he knew her full

name. She'd only been at the school a month and a half and she had no classes with Jakes at all. Word of mouth must have been spreading amongst the faculty. For a moment she fantasized about a cork board in the staff room with her picture posted on it in the style of a 'Wanted' poster. “Come here this instant!” Jakes' demand cut through her pleasant little day dream. Jane flounced up from her seat and made her way through the tables. The looks she got from the other ladies were mixed. Some were giggling quite openly at her antics, others had dazed expressions as if they couldn't quite believe what they had seen, a few were indulgent and a few more were openly hostile. Jane ignored the scowls and grinned back at those who were smiling at her. She was becoming quite notorious for her deeds of derring do, and she enjoyed it. It was good practice for how people would admire her in the future when her exploits abroad reached the shores of the motherland. Jakes was waiting for her, his hands on his hips. He was quite a handsome young man, but when he looked so serious he lost much of his appeal. His lip lifted in a snarl as Jane beamed at him quite unrepentantly. “I'm going to call Master Crispin to deal with you personally.” He spoke as if it was a threat, but Jane's smile only grew wider. “Fine by me, good man,” she smirked. Jakes glowered all the more. “We will see. He is not in at the moment, he is dining in the city. He will deal with you when he returns.” Jane giggled. Jakes sounded like a flustered mother threatening a recalcitrant child with horrors that will only ensue when daddy gets home. “Well you tell him to get in touch with me,” she said, lifting her skirts and sweeping out of the dining room, her head held high. For once she rather liked the skirts, they added a dramatic swishing effect that made her exit that much more memorable. She retired to relax in the dormitory and enjoy a decent dose of adulation from Hettie, Rebecca and Christine. Ivy had spent most of her time in the other dormitories since Jane had threatened her with the knitting needles. “That was so funny when you threw the bread at Jakes, I thought he was going to burst with rage!” Rebecca laughed, putting her hand to her mouth. She was a slightly plump young lady, but Jane did not hold that against her. Rebecca and Christine had been inseparable almost since the very first day. The closeness of their friendship was so overt that it had lead to the other girls calling them 'Ristine' and Chribecca'. They went out of their way to make sure that they liked the same things and disliked the same things, so seeing Rebecca laughing sent Christine into gales of laughter too. “Oh yes! So droll!” Jane got the impression that Christine didn't really know what droll meant, but she let it go. She certainly wasn't going to start acting like a mistress herself, not now she had all the masters and mistresses on the run. A heavy knock at the dormitory door elicited shrieks of surprised from Chribecca. Only Hettie had the presence of mind to go and open the door. Jane certainly wasn't going to do it, she considered herself above such things. In her mind she had appointed herself captain of a rebel alliance. If somebody wanted to see her (she had no doubt that the door knocker knocked for her) they would have to go through the proper channels. “Oh hello Master Crispin,” Hettie said loud enough for Jane to hear. “What can I do for you?”

“Hello Hettie. Is Jane in?” Jane almost melted when she heard Crispin's deep tones. She smirked as Chribecca looked at her, their hands clapped over their mouths as they tried to remain silent. “Yes she is,” Hettie replied. “Tell her to meet me in my office would you Hettie?” “Yes Master Crispin,” Hettie said. The door closed and a moment later, Hettie popped her blonde head around the corner. “Master Crispin says...” “Yes yes, I heard him,” Jane interrupted her gleefully. “He wants to see me.” She smoothed her skirts and picked up the book she had been planning to read. She'd been falling behind on her reading lately with all the excitement, not to mention her studies. Hettie frowned a little, not out of any disapproval, but out of confusion. “Aren't you going to go?” “I'll go in a bit,” Jane said. “A lady has to know how to make an entrance.” It took Jane a full half hour to take herself up to Crispin's office. She would have made it an hour, but it was already 10:30 pm and 11:00 would have been too close to pumpkin time for her liking. She wanted to be looking fresh when he saw her, not half falling asleep with bags under her eyes. She knocked at the door once. Before her knuckles could land a second time the door was pulled open and Crispin ushered her in. He was not dressed in his usual robes, instead he was dressed in a rather spiffing three piece suit that Jane rather admired. Crispin was such a gentleman, even when he was scowling furiously. “Where have you been, young lady?” He spoke sternly. “I've been waiting quite some time to see you.” Not as long as I've been waiting to see you, Jane thought to herself. Outwardly she shrugged. “I came as soon as I could,” she lied. Crispin's expression grew even more grim. “Did you know, my girl, that I was called in from a rather pleasant evening in the city to attend to you?” “Were you on a date?” Jane asked forwardly. The idea that he might be courting someone had not occurred to her until that moment and it made her feel very uncomfortable indeed. “That is none of your concern,” Crispin said stiffly. “I should have called for you to come in your pajamas. Go down and get changed then come back up to see me.” “You want me to wear pajamas? Are we going to have a sleepover?” Master Crispin drew himself up to his full height and gave Jane a very, very hard look. “I had heard that you were getting an attitude my girl, but I did not know how bad it was. Go and get changed into

pajamas now, something with pajamas bottoms separate from the top if you can.” Jane happened to have cribbed a pair of her brother's old pajamas before she'd left for Achewood Academy, but she recoiled at the idea of Crispin seeing her in the stripy old things. “It will be decidedly in your best interests if you do as you are told this minute,” Crispin informed her. His kindly smile was only a memory to Jane. Looking at him now she saw nothing but hard lines. His mouth was pressed together quite firmly and there was a muscle in his jaw that seemed to be ticking. When he was angry he looked bigger and broader than usual, though he made no aggressive move towards her, Jane started to feel a little bit scared. She took his warning to heart and rushed downstairs to change, ignoring Hettie and Chribecca's questions. She could have chosen one of her silky nightgowns, but something about the way he'd been quite specific about what he wanted her to wear made her put on the boys' pajamas. She wasn't trying to make him mad after all, the point of all the pranks and the misbehavior was to get his attention, not make him hate her. Jane hurried back upstairs and presented herself to Crispin, who had shed his suit jacket and was in the familiar process of removing his cufflinks. He grunted when he saw what she was wearing and motioned for her to shut the door, which she did. “You're making quite a name for yourself,” he said grimly, rolling up his sleeves. “Uh huh,” Jane wasn't really listening, which was a pity because she was missing the signals that should have told her she was in really, really big trouble. Instead she was looking at his lovely forearms. He had blonde hair there too, so she could see the toned musculature quite clearly. He really was a fine specimen. She wondered what he might look like with his shirt off. “Is there a particular reason you decided to hurt bread about the dining room this evening?” She couldn't tell him the truth obviously, so she just shrugged. He looked at her steadily, leaning back against his desk, his hands grasping the edge of it on either side of his body. “I'm going to need more of an answer than that, Jane.” “I thought it was amusing to do so,” she lied. It was better than telling him the truth. “I thought you wanted to be an explorer, Ms Munsford, not a common yob.” Jane's feelings stung enough at being called a yob, let along a common one, but she was careful not to show it. “I guess I'm just filling the time in being a common yob,” she said, using the words with a venomous bite. Crispin shook his head at her and sighed. “I am disappointed in you Jane, I would have thought Genevieve's sister would have known how to conduct herself.” That got Jane's goat. She'd been compared unfavorably to Genevieve all her life and it was happening again, this time with the man she had a crush on. “Genevieve isn't perfect you know,” she said in a snarky petty tone. “But she at least tried. You are going out of your way to be trouble. Now come over here and bend over

the desk, Jane.” He stood up and moved away from the desk, giving her ample room to go over it herself. She eyed the wooden expanse with more than a little trepidation. Already this spanking didn't feel like it did last time. Last time Crispin had been patient and kind. This time he was being curt and demanding. Her feet carried her toward the desk even though she didn't want to go. Perhaps it was because this was the only way she could spend time with Crispin. Perhaps it was because she was still hoping that he would soften and be nice to her. The top of the desk was cool to the touch as she bent forward and laid her cheek on it. The position was every bit as vulnerable as she remembered it being. Behind her there was a tug at her pajama pants. Crispin pulled them down entirely, letting them pool around her feet. Fortunately for Jane, she was wearing rather thick dark panties that obscured her maidenly parts from view. “I'm going to paddle you for your behavior and then we're going to have a long talk,” Crispin said, putting his hand on her lower back to hold her in place. A long talk. That sounded nice. That sounded.... “OW!” Jane shrieked in sudden pain as a very hard paddle landed across her cheeks with much more force than she'd expected it to land. She tried to straighten up, but the moment she pushed upward, Crispin's steadying hand pressed down, holding her firmly in place. She settled for craning her neck around and saw that he was wielding not the leather paddle he'd used on her last time, but a wooden paddle with holes drilled into it with Swiss Cheese regularity. “Stay in position, girl,” Crispin ordered, bringing the paddle down again with a hefty swat that made every muscle in Jane's body go tense. Her bottom hurt. No, it didn't hurt. It ached and it blazed and the feeling only got worse when he laid yet another stroke of the paddle across her vulnerable cheeks. “That's three,” he said. “How many pieces of bread did you throw?” Jane gasped at the question. She didn't know precisely how many pieces of bread she'd thrown, but she knew it was considerably more than three. “I don't know, sir, maybe, ten or more?” She answered truthfully, her voice wavering as she fought back tears. Her bottom hurt so, so much. She wanted to get up, to get away from the pain, but she couldn't, she had to wait until Master Crispin was done with her. “Ten or more,” Crispin said heavily. “That is a great deal of wastage.” He slapped her twice more in quick succession, bringing the swat count to five, and forcing the first tears out of Jane. She couldn't help but cry. It hurt so terribly badly. “I hope you will never behave this badly again,” he said, patting the paddle against her sore cheeks. Even the light touch of the paddle made her wince, and a moment later it came down again with a sound like a thunderclap. Jane's shriek of pain echoed around the room and she renewed her struggles as yet another swat landed, and another. “Calm yourself girl!” Crispin spoke curtly, without any kind of compassion at all. “This is the punishment you earned and this is the punishment you will take.”

Jane hated him. She didn't know why she'd ever thought he was a nice man. He was cruel, cruel and twisted and... “OW GOD STOP IT,” Jane howled as the eighth swat landed across the upper rise of her bottom. “Two more,” Crispin said, rubbing his palm up and down her back once or twice in a gesture that could have been intended to comfort. Jane didn't know, all she knew was that her bottom was hurting more than it had ever hurt in her life and he intended to keep paddling her. He was a monster. The paddle cracked down once more and Jane squealed loud enough to wake the dead, drumming her feet against the carpet as she tried to escape the pain somehow. “The final one,” Crispin said, placing the paddle against her lower cheeks. “Do not ever behave so badly that I am forced to do this again, you understand me girl?” “Yesss!” Jane squealed, her eyes squeezed tight, as if not being able to see what was happening would make it hurt less. The paddle thundered down one final time. Crispin did not soften the blow, he gave it to her with full force. It caught her upper thighs and lower cheeks as it landed and Jane emitted a sound that could have carried clear across Continental Africa. It was over then. Crispin let her stand up, or rather, he removed his palm from her lower back and she popped up, her hands reaching back for her bottom as she danced with pain, rubbing furiously. “It's generally considered poor manners to rub before you are told you are allowed to, but I will grant you a pass on this occasion,” Crispin said. He'd folded his arms over his chest and he looked very pleased with himself indeed as he watched Jane whimper and sniffle as she tried to rub the pain out of her posterior. “Now we discuss what has been going on with you.” Jane was not in the mood to discuss anything. She hopped from foot to foot, biting back terrible curse words. He ignored her evident discomfort in favor of questioning her. “Are you trying to get thrown out? Is that why you are behaving so very outrageously?” “No,” Jane shook her head vehemently. As much as she'd love to be thrown out of Achewood, she didn't get her inheritance if she was expelled, and without her inheritance she'd probably have to marry someone just to get by. “Are you bored with your studies?” “Yes, but that's not why.” She was slowly able to stop dancing and could stand still and focus on the important business of rubbing instead. “Then what is it?” “I can't tell you,” Jane muttered. “I must insist that you do.” “You don't want me to, trust me.”

Master Crispin's expression softened slightly. “Jane, I am not just the Head of Birch House, I consider myself a friend of your sister and therefore, a friend of yours. Whatever it is you can tell me.” “Friends don't paddle friends.” Crispin laughed and for a moment, Jane remembered why she was crushing on him. “They do when friends are doing everything but coming to the door and asking for it.” Jane shrugged again. “I can't tell you, Crispin.” “Crispin, how very familiar of you.” She looked up, certain that he was going to be frowning at her, but he was smiling. Feeling very exposed, she crouched down and quickly pulled her pajama bottoms up. “Fine,” she said, tired of beating about the bush and getting her behind beaten as a result. “I wanted to see you.” “Wanted to see me?” Crispin's brow furrowed. “I have office hours Jane. You don't need to assault the kitchen staff with soggy bread to see me.” Rolling her eyes at his inability to understand what she meant, Jane tried one last time. “I wanted to see you in a different way.” Comprehension dawned on Crispin quite audibly. “You wanted me to spank you? Oh Jane.” Jane lowered her head, sure that there would be derision and disgust in his eyes. “I thought it was nice after last time, but it's not nice, it's not nice at all.” Tears came welling forth once more as her bottom throbbed painfully. She'd just wanted a little kind attention but instead she'd received a beating. “Oh Jane,” Crispin repeated himself. “I am sorry.” That made her raise her head. “You're sorry?” He reached out for her hands and held them in his. “I have lead you astray my girl. I have been over familiar with you.” Jane thought her heart would break. Crispin was being nice about it, but it was clear that he considered her a very silly young lady to have developed a crush on him. She tried to pull her hands away so that she could run away and weep somewhere less embarrassing, but he held her firmly. “Please don't cry Jane.” She couldn't help it. Tears were streaming down her cheeks. She was sore and embarrassed and hurt. Jane wasn't a woman easily given to crushes. Being rebuffed on her first real attempt to get a man's attention was terrible. She sobbed as Crispin drew her forward and pressed her head against his chest, taking her in a tender embrace. “Don't cry Jane,” he repeated himself, his voice rumbling through his chest. “I have made a fool of myself,” Jane cried. She hated blubbering like a baby, it was not the sort of thing intrepid explorers did, but she could not help herself. The paddling and subsequent revealing of her attraction to Crispin had been too painful to bear without tears.

“No you haven't my dear,” Crispin said, rubbing her back comfortingly with his large palm. “You have certainly been rather naughty however. Throwing bread at the Masters, why that's unheard of. Did you do that purely to get my attention, or were you practicing for repelling hostile natives in the future?” The smallest of smiles crept across Jane's lips. When Crispin was nice, he was very nice indeed. His voice was warm with humor and she found herself pressing into his body, enjoying the solid feeling of his torso. If what she was feeling through his shirt was anything to go by, she'd been quite correct in thinking that he had a very nice physique. “Hmm?” Crispin prompted her as his hand slid up to stroke her hair. “I did it mostly so I'd get in trouble,” Jane admitted, burying her head in his chest. “I wager you would not have done it if you'd known precisely what the trouble would entail,” Crispin chuckled. “I probably would have,” Jane said in a small voice. “Is that so? You'd take a beating just for a little one on one time? How very flattering.” She looked up at him, wondering if he thought her pathetic or strange, but he was smiling down at her with a light in his eyes that made her feel very warm and safe indeed. He had not said outright that he liked her too, but he was embracing her quite tightly and he held her gaze with an intensity that made her wish it was possible to melt against him and be held that way forever. “I think it is time this intrepid explorer went to bed,” he said, breaking the spell and releasing her from his arms. “You've had quite enough excitement for one day.” Jane sniffed as she moved away. She did not want to go back down to the dormitory, she wanted to stay there with him. But that was obviously not an option. With her shoulders drooping, her head down, she made her way to the door. She put her hand on the handle, but before she could open the door she felt Crispin's hands on her shoulders. “One last thing,” he said as he turned her around to face him. She looked up, wondering if there was more punishment to come, but he lowered his head and gently brushed his lips across hers in a soft kiss. “Sleep well, Jane,” he smiled and gave her a rakish wink that made her heart pound. “You too,” she said, grinning like a fool as Crispin opened the door for her and patted her paddled bottom. She made her way downstairs with a very sore rear end, but a light heart. Dear Genevieve, I can assure you that I will not be giving up on young Jane. She has certainly tried my patience at times, but as you had suggested in your earlier letters, she responds to discipline. I must confess I have become quite fond of her, which is just as well for hers is the most frequent name on my infraction sheets. Your friend, Crispin

Chapter Four “Didn't it hurt?” Hettie gasped. The ladies were all gathered around Jane's poor red bottom, gasping at the red splotches and light bruising that covered it. Jane had pulled her panties down just below her cheeks to let them see what had happened. The moment she'd returned to the dorm she'd been assailed by questions and it was much easier just to let the others see the effects of the spanking than try to explain the pain. “He did this to you over your panties?” Chribecca echoed one another. “He did it over my panties and no, it didn't really hurt. I don't feel pain,” Jane lied. She enjoyed the sounds of their admiration far too much to admit she'd bawled like a baby. “Is that why your eyes are all red,” Ivy snorted disdainfully. Jane cursed her observation skills and ignored her. Instead of replying she pulled her pants up and got into bed carefully. The pain had settled into a dull warm ache that was spreading through her lower body and with the memory of Crispin's kiss, she was feeling very nice indeed. When the lights went out, she squirmed under the covers, ostensibly trying to get comfortable, but in fact she was reaching between her legs to rub at her warm center. Crispin was amazing. His voice, his eyes, his body. She wanted more of him, she wanted him in a way she'd not wanted any man before. She ground her hips against her fingers, burying her face in her pillow to muffle her ragged breaths of pleasure. That night sleep came fast on the heels of a secret orgasm. Morning brought with it new challenges. At first Jane was excited, remembering that Master Crispin had kissed her, but by the time she was done with breakfast, she was confused. What had it meant? Had he meant it in a friendly way? Or was it his way of saying he liked her as much as she liked him? He was a master, and relationships between masters and students were strictly forbidden. She knew that because it was spelled out quite clearly in the Achewood Academy handbook. Jane's teachers were much relieved that day, for instead of causing trouble, Jane spent most of her time day dreaming about Master Crispin. The fact that she'd been paddled was hot news. Everybody had heard the rumors that you could be paddled at Achewood, but it hardly ever happened. Most of the ladies were well enough behaved that a stern talking to was all the chastisement they needed. An extraordinary story requires extraordinary proof, so Jane found herself in the bathrooms letting a steady stream of her classmates look at the damage done to her rear end. The redness had faded by morning, but there was a shadow of bruising across both her cheeks. She leaned on the counter top, her face resting on her elbows as the other ladies gaped at her bottom. “That's barbaric,” one woman whispered almost reverently. “I can't believe he did that.” “She did throw bread at Jakes,” another lady interjected. Before Jane knew where she was, her bottom was being argued over by a group of women she barely knew. It wasn't just the new intake who were mesmerized by her bottom, many of the returning students had never seen such a thing in their lives.

“Jane Munsford!” A scandalized tone got her attention and Jane straightened up and turned around as quickly as possible. Madeline, their dorm adviser, was standing just inside the bathroom doorway with an expression of utter incredulity on her beautiful face. “What on earth are you doing?” Jane tugged up her panties and let her skirts fall. “I was just showing them what happened,” she said. The room had fallen largely silent. Madeline was the closest thing Achewood Academy had to a head girl, in fact there were rumors that Madeline was going to be joining the staff when she graduated. “If you are showing it off, I think it is safe to say that it did not have the desired effect,” Madeline said dryly, crossing her arms over her chest in a very mistressey sort of way. “Master Crispin wants to see you. Perhaps he will be able to impart the lesson more strongly this time.” *** Dear Crispin, It warms mine and my mother's hearts to read of your fondness for Jane. We heartily encourage such a sentiment, for we are well aware of the challenges Jane poses to a potential suitor. Mother has despaired of Jane for such a long time, she sends word that she hopes your affections are being returned. Yours fondly, Genevieve *** Being sent to the house master's office was supposed to be a threat, but the news she was going to see Crispin again so soon made Jane beam. She made her way out of the bathroom her head held high and positively dashed up the stairs to Crispin's office where he was waiting for her. The door was slightly ajar when she arrived and she poked her head around it to see if he was in. He was. Her first impression was that he looked tired. His hair was more unruly than usual and there were dark circles under his eyes that indicated a night of poor sleep. She knocked politely, drawing his attention. “You sent for me?” “Yes yes, come in Jane,” he said, seeming to shake himself free of whatever funk had gripped him. His arms folded over his chest, Crispin looked at Jane with a bemused expression. “Tell me Madeline is incorrect and you have not been parading your rear end around the academy.” “Well not parading it, strictly,” Jane said. “But some of the ladies wanted to see.” Both of his brows rose almost to his hairline. “And you show your bottom to everyone who wants to see it?” “No, just to everyone who wants to paddle it,” Jane said rather smartly. Crispin looked at her rather severely. “Jane Munsford, you are an irrepressible brat,” he declared.

“I'm doing you a favor,” she argued. “Now they know it can happen so they will be more well behaved.” “Their behavior is not at issue here,” Crispin said. “Yours is the behavior of concern. Achewood Academy has not seen the likes of it in quite some time.” Jane's heart skipped a beat. Had she gone too far? “Does that mean I am to be expelled?” He looked at her with a heavy expression. “No, but it means you will find yourself subject to ever increasing discipline, which I fear is an end in itself for you.” “What do you mean?” “A lady who has been paddled is supposed to be contrite. She is supposed to want to behave better in the future to avoid further punishment. You, on the other hand, have paraded your punishment about the place like a badge of honor.” Jane tried hard to hide her grin, but she couldn't quite manage it. It was true, once the pain had faded somewhat all she could remember was the way it felt to be held by Master Crispin. “You can wipe that smile off your face young lady,” Crispin rapped out sternly. His chastisement had the opposite effect, Jane grinned all the more and actually starred giggling. “Oh you think this is funny, do you? I will show you funny.” Crispin took Jane by the arm and dragged her over his knee without so much as a how do you do. He tossed up her skirts and, to her total surprise, pulled her underwear down too. Jane gasped with maidenly horror realizing that he was looking at her bare bottom. “Sir! Please!” “You seem to be fond of showing people your bottom, I reasoned you would want me to see it too,” Crispin said, slapping her bare cheek with the palm of his hand. “Isn't this amusing to you, Jane?” He slapped her harder still. “Isn't this delightfully funny?” Wailing and squalling over Crispin's knee, Jane found her bottom under fire once more. Crispin did not use an implement of any kind, he simply smacked her with his palm over and over again. Jane flailed about, and more than once his hand landed uncomfortably close to her secret lady parts that were hardly a secret anymore. It was a spanking, not a paddling and though it certainly did not pack the pain of a paddling, it was far more intimate and therefore far more embarrassing for poor Jane. She felt the over the knee position quite childish, but there was nothing childish about the way she felt when Crispin's fingers slapped right across her womanhood. She could not say whether or not he was doing it on purpose or not, she was flailing about a great deal and he was not imparting discipline in his usual controlled fashion. Instead of placing each blow with care he was simply laying slap after slap in the general vicinity of her bottom. “You are an utter scoundrel, Ms Munsford,” Crispin lectured, taking a brief break to rest his arm.

“I am not,” Jane protested, squirming forward over his lap a little. “You never told me not to show anyone my bottom.” That earned her a hearty slap. “I did not think that such a thing needed to be mentioned specifically,” Crispin growled. He was doing his best to be stern, but she could sense his native good humor bubbling just below the surface. He knew it was funny, but he was doing his best to fulfill his role as master. Jane squirmed forward a little more and managed to get her hands on the ground. From there she walked forward on her hands and almost succeeded in removing her bottom from Crispin's lap before being hauled back bodily. Another stern slap burst across her cheeks, making her yelp. “Stop trying to evade your fate, Jane.” “I'm not trying to evade my fate, I'm trying to evade your hand,” Jane explained, reaching back to rub her bottom. Crispin slapped her hand away, then pinned it to the small of her back. “Whatever am I to do with you?” Jane giggled. She was rather enjoying herself in spite of the fact that her bottom was stinging. Being held over Crispin's lap, no, not held, trapped over Crispin's lap felt entirely wonderful. He was hard and unyielding and she was helpless against his will. “And still you continue to enjoy yourself,” Crispin noted, squeezing her bottom. It sounded to Jane as if he was speaking through clenched teeth, as if he were trying to contain himself. His hand continued to knead her cheek in a way that she was sure was not disciplinary. “Would that you were not a student,” he said quietly. “What would you do then?” “I would bend you over yonder desk and give you a jolly good seeing too, one you wouldn't giggle at,” he said, his voice low and rough. Jane instinctively arched her hips. He wanted her, she could feel it. She wanted him too, wanted him in a way that consumed her. If he let her go now, if he sent her back to the dormitories like just another student she was sure she would go mad. “I am a woman first,” she said softly. He laughed a harsh laugh. “Are you saying you wish for me to take you? The lady who wishes not to be married wants to be rogered in the master's study?” “You're not married either, you damnable hypocrite,” Jane replied with hasty anger. “You make a good point,” Crispin admitted, holding her as she struggled to get away from him. “Calm yourself, you're not getting away yet.” Jane laid still, breathing heavily. She would not feel shame for her desires, she refused to. “I

apologize,” Crispin said. “I did not mean to embarrass you.” He caressed her bottom gently, letting his fingers dip between her thighs. “I feel myself losing control with you and I cannot do that. It would not benefit you or I.” “Why?” Jane moaned the question, shuffling her hips back in hopes of feeling his fingers more fully. “Because you are my student and I am your master. It is strictly against policy.” “It is against policy to be fondling me now, yet the world has not ended,” Jane pointed out naughtily. “This is true, it is also against policy to do this,” Crispin growled, sliding a finger between her lips into the warm depths of her body. Jane arched her back, responding to his touch with a soft groan of arousal. She felt her muscles clenching around his finger, wanting his hardness. “Oh please Crispin,” she begged as he began to slowly thrust his finger in and out of her wanting womanhood. “Please let me be with you.” “Is that what you want Jane? Do you wish to be mine?” “Yes,” Jane moaned. His voice held a gravelly note of desire and possession. “I will not take you unless we are married.” Jane's eyes flew open wide. “Married?” “If I am to have you, I wish to have you completely.” “But...” “Do not tell me you do not wish to be married,” Crispin said roughly, thrusting a second finger inside her body. “You are far too tempting and too spirited a woman to be denied the pleasures of the marriage bed.” Rolling her hips as Crispin masturbated her, Jane was forced to admit that she could hardly fathom a life without the pleasure of a man. She could barely stand the thought of going downstairs without Crispin. How could she contemplate an entire lifetime without him? “It is not fair Master Crispin,” Jane gasped breathlessly. “You know I will have no choice but to agree to your terms if you tease me this way.” Crispin chuckled above her. “Then you can consider yourself being courted Ms Munsford, for I have many more tricks up my sleeve which you will certainly not have the fortitude to withstand.” Jane moaned, moving her hips more enthusiastically. With her skirts bunched up around her waist, her cherry red bottom very much on display as she thrust herself wantonly against Crispin's palm she looked the very picture of a fallen woman but for the light in Crispin's eyes, a light that spoke to adoration and care. It was a great risk they were taking, if anyone were to discover them Crispin would certainly lose his

position and Jane would be expelled, but as Jane writhed over her master's lap, those concerns seemed very far away indeed, especially when Crispin turned her over in his lap and sat her up so he was at liberty to kiss her deeply whilst his fingers plunged in the wet depths of her body. “You have made me a mad man,” Crispin breathed against her lips. “And you have made me a respectable woman,” Jane replied. “Not too respectable,” Crispin growled, pressing his palm against her pink button so that she moaned with pleasure. “You are still being shamelessly penetrated by your house master.” “Then you will have to punish me,” Jane said, spreading her legs so that he might press deeper inside her body with his fingers. She wished it was another part of his anatomy, but even when consumed with lust, Crispin was far too principled to break his word. She was quite certain he meant what he said about postponing their coupling until after their nuptials, though she intended to test his will on the matter often. Crispin lowered his lip to her ear, gently nibbling on the the lobe. “Oh I will punish you, naughty Jane, I will punish you a great deal. I think the next three years will see you spending many evenings atoning for your behavior in my study.” “Do you think it will take? Do you think you can break me, Crispin?” Jane teased him. “If my lady wishes to be broken, she shall be,” Crispin purred, sliding his fingers out of Jane's tight canal. “We shall see how you handle thwarted desire and delayed gratification young lady.” He chuckled as Jane mewled with disappointment and thrust her own hand down between her legs. “Uh uh,” Crispin chided, slapping her hand away lightly. “You get touched when I say you get touched, young lady.” “And I must agree to marry you before you will pleasure me? You think I will throw away a lifetime of dreams for a fleeting moment with you?” “You need not throw anything away dear girl,” Crispin informed her. “I am just as capable of travel as you are, and I have an idea of how we can fill our time during long journeys down the Nile.” He snaked his hand back down between Jane's legs and cupped her gently. “You are a passionate woman, Jane Munsford, but you are not an island. A strong woman needs a strong man.” “And you think you are that strong man?” Jane moaned softly as Crispin squeezed her womanhood possessively. “I know I am.” Sighing, Jane laid her head against his chest. “Yet you will send me back down to the dormitories to sleep along every night for the next three years.” “I will,” he said firmly. “A little education will go a long way with you my dear. I shall enjoy seeing you go about the place, knowing that you are to be mine, knowing that under your skirts you moisten for me and me alone.”

His lewd words made Jane blush and made the game of secretly being courted rather appealing indeed. Closing her eyes, she gave herself into his arms, trusting that he knew what was best. His arms folded around her, embracing her deeply as they sat together in silence, enjoying the few minutes they had to share as lovers before returning to their roles of master and student. Dear Genevieve, It pleases me to say that I have struck up a close relationship with Jane and look forward to ushering her through her years at Achewood. After a brief rocky period she has settled rather nicely and is responding well to our particular brand of discipline. I have no doubts that she will one day make a very pleasing and pliant wife. Your friend, Crispin