Miss Birch smirked at the defiant look, patting the girl's cheek. There were plenty of cases where she might let an outburst slide, or where she would wash a mouth out but let the student spit everything out into a cloth or sink. But no, for this one case she especially wanted to make Rebecca suffer, to have the foul taste linger and the unpleasant sensation sit in her stomach. But there was yet another surprise in store for her.

"Oh, you can close your mouth now. I think soap works best when applied to both ends at the same time."

She unwrapped that one, to reveal not a square, but a slender round stick of it, like a piece of waxy chalk. And with that, she slowly stepped around behind the girl, licked one finger, and used that to work up a little moisture and foam around the tip of the stick. Once it was just barely slippery enough, she reached over, and pressed the tip of it up against her student's puckered back door.

"You will find that this is most unpleasant. Not just the stretching as I push it in, and the humiliation, but the fact that soap tends to itch and burn just a little in delicate places. And after that? That's when you realise it dries you out, so it keeps feeling mildly unpleasant."

Twisting all the time, turning it left and right, she pushed forwards, gradually working the soapstick up inside Beckie's tight rectum. Only when it was about one centimetre deep, the rest of it poking out, she placed her thumb on the end and pushed down firmly, driving it further in. Soon, it was almost entirely inside the girl.

"Right, it's nearly in. If you ask me very nice to continue caning your naughty bare bottom, I might leave it in that far so it can be pulled out after. Or I could push it all the way inside and just let it melt in you."

Beckie couldn't at first understand what the hateful headmistress was talking about, she felt the soap reach her stomach and groaned at the sensation and the taste, then as Miss Birch walked about behind her with the round stick of soap in her hand realization struck hard and Beckie eyes widened in horror. "Oh no! Not please Miss Birch don't..." But already she felt the damp end of the soap stick pressured at her asshole, it felt so immense, far too large to fit inside her little pucker?

Miss Birch described in detail what the soap would do, and all Beckie could do was moan in protest, it was the strangest, most violating sensation as the headmistress worked it around and around and gradually inward. Beckie squealed when the headmistress pushed the little cylinder home filling up and stretching her tight little rectum, and oh it did sting!

Upon hearing she might push it all the way in and let it melt there, Beckie felt hot tears of shame and frustration in her eyes yet again, she attempted to contain her composure and co-operate. "P-please Miss Birch, w-will you continue to cane my naughty bottom...I...I'm sorry for interrupting." She stifled a sob and attempted to sweeten her plea, wiggling her bottom in discomfort at the same time. "Very sorry Ma'am..."

"Hmm... very well. I won't push it all the way in. It can stay the way it is, and once the caning is complete, I will pull it out."

With that said, the headmistress gave it another little twist inside Beckie's rectum, before picking the cane up again. She gave a few swishes through the air, before lining it up for the next stroke - although she didn't even need to say that the first one didn't count. Naturally she was starting from the beginning, even without having stated how many strokes she would deliver.

"So let's get things underway. You have a proper caning to get through before we decide what happens next!"

That was the only warning - almost as soon as the words were from her mouth, she swung the cane again so that it whipped against the undercurve of her firm bottom, delivering its wicked sting straight away.

Beckie's athletic thighs were fixed in place balancing her delectable ass cheeks for full impact of the cane, the hand spanking and slippering had already pinked, and in places, reddened her backside, they were wide, round, and trembled beautifully in discomfort, but the one dark pink line the headmistress had already delivered made the rest of her bottom pale by comparison, and the one that was delivered now, on the under curve of Beckie's lovely ass left an even darker stripe, causing her to gasp and wiggled about in pain.

A third, forth, and fifth strike snicked across her backside, causing her to whimper, gasp and groan, but she held back her tongue and bit down on it when a sixth especially severe lash threatened her to release another curse! Miss Birch was masterful at punishment, Beckie had known this when she agreed to the punishment, but she was only beginning to understand what Miss Birch was also a master at humiliation, she groaned again at the sting the little soap stick caused in her rectum, and tried to stay in position as he caning continued.

This was all so terrible, but they'd barely been in the office a hour! and She hated to think about what the cruel headmistress had planned next! For now there was just the itch in her asshole, the humiliation of her position and the nasty, invading, heat-filled snipes of the cane on her backside. She squealed at another treacherous delivery and shook her head in protest.

Naturally, the rest of the caning was still delivered expertly, with each stroke measured out for maximum effect. She gave plenty of time between them, she spaced them out to cover plenty of skin, she put good strength into each one and only occasionally doubled up for that extra sting, keeping it a surprise when she did.

And each time, she would stop to poke, prod, stroke and provide commentary, constantly reminding Beckie of her predicament and not letting her drown it out and go numb. No, it was important that her discomfort be maximised all throughout the entire ordeal, nothing less would suffice.

But eventually, twelve strokes (thirteen, including the first one which drew forth the profanity) had landed, and a series of red stripes adorned Rebecca's beautiful athletic bottom. She stepped back to admire her handiwork, a smile crossing her face.

"A wonderful sight there, worthy of an artist. Nonetheless..."

First the cane was returned to its place. Then she stepped back around, plucking the end of the soap stick from the girl's bottom hole. The lather was still there, and of course some of it had already melted inside, but at least the majority was out, placed in the bin. The headmistress even showed some extra kindness there - or perhaps just additional familiarity with her student's body - by taking a wet-wipe and rubbing the whole area down, her finger separated from the girl's back door only by the thin cloth as she wiped excess soap away.

"There we go. You may now climb down and apologise to me. Incidentally, should another foul word emerge from your mouth, I will need to apply hot spices - and consider for a moment that the soap was not only used in your mouth as well, and try to imagine that sort of heat there."

Beckie blinked back the tears of anguish she had manged to hold back somewhat during the caning, her ass felt bloated, tender, heated, and this had just been a "light caning." The punishment was dreadful, but It was Miss Birch's probing hands, harsh, steely fingers, and mocking, consistently humiliating commentary that really made poor Beckie want to jump up and run away from the room, Scholarship and Education be damned! How could she suffer another seven hours like this?

She waited an eternity after the caning for Miss Birch to remove the soap pellet, and then squirmed as the cruel headmistress took a wet, and very chilly, wipe and cleaned her bottom hole with it. Upon being warned under pain of hot spices application Beckie couldn't help but whimper and sob.

Climbing carefully down off the desk, her skirt falling over her well chastised backside causing her to shiver again at the sting and the cold, Beckie decided to give the Headmistress what she wanted. Bowing her head she mumbled: "I-I'm sorry M-miss Birch for cussing, and-and for wasting your day with my punishment..." Then, really not knowing what else to say, she added lamely. "...I'll behave."

"I'm glad to hear that," Miss Birch replied with a tone as serious as that of a mortician, "for as you can see, barely half an hour has passed us by. That leaves us with so much more time to focus on punishment and correction, to change your ways, so you definitely don't want to make things harder for yourself."

Despite leaving possibilities unspoken, she closed the doors to the cupboard of implements, keeping them out of sight (if not out of mind). Of course, the clock was there to show she wasn't lying about how much time had passed by. It was only 8:34, meaning it would be several hours just to reach the morning recess most students enjoyed. Indeed, the actual first lesson had not yet begun.

"You might be happy to know that for the next part, you are not getting another spanking - indeed you are receiving a rather boring, mundane punishment instead."

With those words, Theresa placed a simple pen and a pad of lined paper on her desk.

"You will simply be sitting here and writing out I will endeavour to behave perfectly in future and engage in true sportsmanship two hundred times. At the stroke of nine, you will stop and I will look over them, and then you might get the strap: one for every line poorly-written, and two for every line unwritten. That's a little more than ten lines per minute, I'm sure you can manage that,"

And then she unveiled the one modification, the one thing that elevated it from a very difficult task to a form of torment: she pulled a stool out for Beckie to sit on. A stool that had what appeared to be a welcome mat stuck to the seat, with all those little bristles sticking up and just waiting to poke into her tender rear.

"You will of course raise your skirt first and not pull your knickers up for this. Start now."

Beckie mumbled a dazed "Y-yes Ma'am" and attempted to mount the stool gracefully. She groaned as she settled her punished ass onto the torture stool, dozens of plastic spines poked cruelly up into her backside, flesh that was still tender and striped by the cane. She felt silly sitting on it with her panties stretched around her ankles so she removed them and folded them nicely before rearranging herself on the chair. Sitting with her legs together made it awkward to reach the paper and balance correctly on the stool so she had to spread them a little, keeping her feet planted firmly on the ground, her buttocks pressing more fully into the dreadful burs, causing her to groan and wiggle in place.

Less than thirty minutes to write 200 lines? She'd have to hurry something dreadful, but two straps for every line unwritten meant she couldn't spend too much time on each line either. Worsening all this was the fat that Beckie wasn't that neat a hand writer, being a millennial who typed or texted all day, she didn't write much but her signature.

She shifted a little on the chair and whimpered when she did as it only cause the burs to scrape across her flesh all the more. She set to the task with her tongue planted firmly in her right cheek, she carefully, studiously wrote out the humiliating sentence ten times and checked the clock to see her speed. 5 whole minutes had already passed! Shifting and squirming on that wretched stool, she doubled her pace and made ten in a minute the second time, but they looked so sloppy! Were all ten of them going to translate to strappings?

Beckie began to sweat in frustration and consternation. Her third set of ten lines were more acceptable but they'd taken her another three minutes! At this rate she'd only have half of them done in time. She shifted awkwardly and bent over the desk, trying to speed the process, from this angle the burs began to press into much more than her butt flesh and soon she was whimpering as she wrote.

She was still furiously writing when Miss Birch told her to stop. Only 160 lines had been completed and she wasn't sure how many of her written ones counted. "I...I'm sorry Miss Birch, my wrist is a little sore..."

"Oh hush - just think, all the way up to nine, that time is spent not getting spanked. And you have the chance to avoid or at least reduce a further one, surely you appreciate what I'm doing for you here. Make sure you keep your feet off the floor, I don't want you alleviating the pressure."

As she spoke, Miss Birch "helped" adjust Beckie's position on the stool, reaching down and firmly grasping both cheeks before pulling to the sides. Spread in such a way, it was easier for the bristles to find purchase up in more intimate locations - though by the same token, with less pain going into already-smacked (and caned) skin. A mixed blessing, perhaps.

Over the next almost-half-hour, she mostly supervised, but also read over a couple of reports. Aside from the clock, she had an alarm set on her watch, but she paid plenty of attention to the room anyway, so was not surprised when the alarm sounded.

"Right, pen down."

And with that, she started to look over the lines, making little marks on the paper as she counted out the ones that weren't good enough.

"Well, your wrist is no longer the focus of punishment, it will feel better soon enough... of course your bottom is going to be feeling awfully sore. Well, you missed forty, so that's eighty smacks right there, but even being lenient, I can't count more than a hundred of these lines as acceptable, so that's another sixty. One hundred and forty times, the strap is going to hit your bottom. Of course..."

Even as she spoke, she fetched the leather strap - a thick length of leather that didn't look particularly flexible. It also didn't look exactly shiny and smooth like a belt, more like a rough hard piece of leather designed for wear and tear - with the tearing likely to be of Beckie's rump!

"...this is going to be on your bare bottom, naturally. Your underwear will eventually find its way back onto you, I'm sure, but not yet. But pain is not the only way to get a message across. I could halve this number, all the way down to seventy, fewer than you deserve... if you take the strapping completely in the nude. It will still just be on your bottom and thighs, I won't be whipping your back... or other options for that matter. But you'd be naked for the duration."

When Miss birch came up behind the stool and, with those hard, steely fingers of hers, took hold of Beckie's bottom cheeks and spread them, the unfortunate athlete could do little but moan "No! pleeeassseee don't...!" But naturally she was ignored, the last rest of the time spent on that blasted stool was a torture that somehow managed to sting, tickle, and punish all at the same time.

She was whimpering and wiggling as if she was sitting in an ant pile by the time Miss Birch called the time, but she didn't dare stand up lest the horrid woman order her to sit for a longer stretch! She nodded attentively as Miss Birch spoke, but her eyes grew wide upon hearing the punishment count. "N-no please!" she began before Miss Birch outlined the condition by which she could eliminate SOME of the punishment.

She told herself she was giving in, doing just what this cruel woman wanted, but the thought of taking over a hundred licks from that nasty looking strap was simply too much! She stepped quickly off the stool and let her skirt fall to the ground. She pulled her top and cardigan off in one smooth motion, and began working at her underwear. A slightly tanned, pleasantly rounded body came into view, one whose beauty was enhanced by the reddish blushes on her backside, and the red hue her eyes had taken.

"W-where should I bend over Miss?" she knelt to fold her clothes and lay her bra and underwear carefully atop the pile. Not sure if she should stop she stepped back out of her shoes and began to unroll her socks. Her hands had begun to shake, what further agony would she have to suffer? And it was barely Nine in the morning!