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teeth.
    Hhuittt!
    “Four!”
    Not even halfway through. “Oh… oh… auuuh.”
    She stretched out, twisting up the trestle, her posteriors cringing like those of some well-whipped dog. The long penal cane was unspeakably painful, its tip digging into her right side unbearably.
    Five… six… seven… dear Christ in Heaven.
    “Aaaah…”
    Then something happened. In a cold tone the Headmistress was speaking.
    “You're letting her off too lightly, Wedell. If you don't hit harder than this, I'll have you put to the triangle. It'll be twenty, in public.”
    “Ja, Frau Direktrice. Entschul'.”
    “These last cuts over two minutes.”
    Maria listened to the metronome ticking. Her anus was burning like a brand. Her whipped seat was afire. No more, no more…
    But the next belted into her with a shock that shook the trestle and a drenching streak of agony seemed to pass right through her. Her vision fogged.
    “Much better. They should all have been like that.”
    “Haaa. uuuuu…”
    H-h-hwhttt!
    “Nine. That was too high. Take her at the top of the legs for the last.”
    Shivering as if with the ague Maria Daunitz awaited the stroke, stretching forward and, in doing so, pulling up just that part the mistress had been told to flog. The big woman took a prancy pace and wrapped the length of the rod around the base of the wealed surfaces. Maria lunged with a grunting moan, her body spasmed in a cramp, then sheer pain seemed to flood through her from insteps to eyeballs. The last three stripes had been worse than the whole of the first seven.
    Her legs were released first, and she jacked them back together, writhing. Ingeborg had instructed her in protocol. She was somehow or other supposed now to kneel and kiss the… the… and thank for punishment… with her hands by her sides… with her… but her hands had been released, her mouth, and her waist, and herself, and a voice was saying sternly, “Stand up at once. This is extremely poor comportment, Daunitz.”
    Alas, it was. Pain suffused her from tip to toe, and she realized she was rolling on her back on the floor, with her knees drawn up to her chin, and her hands grabbing and rubbing the twin coals of her arse-cheeks. Wedell was looking at her with some interest, from the distance of that endless cane, while the Head's gaze had been converted to a winking glare by the insertion, in her right eye, of a monocle. “Get up.”
    “Yes… ohoooooaaaah… Frau Direktrice.”
    “Pull yourself together and get up and thank for punishment. Cease this unnecessary exhibition at once.”
    Maria forced herself to obey. She had to drag herself to her knees. Half-blind with pain she kissed the tip of the outstretched cane, mumbled the ritual words of thanks, resumed her discarded skirt, curtseyed stiffly to the Headmistress, then stood up to attention, trembling like a jelly all over.
    “I had hoped you would do better than this, Daunitz. Do you feel well punished?”
    “Th-th-thoroughly, Headmistress.” It was something she could gasp out with complete conviction. Her buttocks felt at this moment like so much molten lead. “Thank you,” she managed to get herself to add.
    “You will not be let off so lightly next time. In fact, I shall recommend some training correction for you so that you do not behave like this again. Meanwhile, you bear Fraulein Wedell no grudge, I hope; she was merely doing her duty.”
    “None,” she breathed in reply.
    “Return to your quarters.”
    Maria Daunitz dipped another curtsey, held it, half-slipped, got up and went to the door where she appeared to wrestle with the handle for a moment — then was gone. The Headmistress was left alone with the Pflichtlehrerin of the day. For a time she gave her subordinate a long and level gaze. We-dell's bosom was heaving, her white tunic patched with sweat under the right armpit and in front, its scant skirt perching pertly oft a muscular rump behind.
    “Talking of doing your duty, you didn't let up