Bad boys caned together by the Prison Governess – At Home with Miss Iceni

Take them down! Bad boys caned together by the Prison Governess, with classic caning, scolding, corporal punishment.

Carlton and Fletcher have been brought into my office straight after their arrest, their feet dragging like they owned the place. Guards had hauled them here straight from trouble to see Miss Iceni, the Prison Governess with the fearsome reputation. Carlton, the hot-head, has been nabbed for starting a brawl. He seems pretty proud if himself and his ability to throw a punch. Fletcher, the sly one, has sticky fingers. If there’s one thing Miss Iceni can’t stand, it’s a thief. It shows a lack of moral fibre, and demands punishment. Both stood there as repeat offenders, eyes full of defiance.

I am Miss Iceni, the Prison Governess. My name alone makes grown men straighten up. Whispers spread through these walls about my strict ways. I run this place with an iron hand, and I brook no nonsense from new arrivals. Today, these two tested me right away. They smirked as I laid into them. Carlton had his chin high like he was above it all. Fletcher was chuckling under his breath. No hint of regret in either face. I would soon teach them a lesson they wouldn’t forget in a hurry.

In this prison, fresh intakes often get a taste of the strap first thing. It’s a thick leather belt, swung hard to knock the smugness out. Helps settle them down before the cells swallow them up. But these boys needed more. Their attitudes demanded the cane. Twelve strokes each, right on the bare skin. No mercy for cheek like theirs.

What made it sting worse for them? They’d take it side by side. Pants down, exposed to each other’s stares. Humiliation builds character faster than pain alone. I pointed to the old leather-inlaid desk, scarred from years of use. “You ned over, and you stand there, facing me,” I snapped. They hesitated, glances darting, but obeyed at last. Trousers dropped to ankles, bare bottoms presented.

I gripped the cane tight. First stroke landed on Carlton with a sharp crack. A red line bloomed across his skin. “One, thank you Miss,” he muttered through gritted teeth. Fletcher watched, face paling as he realised he’d have to watch the entire caning in anticipation of his own afterwards. Swish, crack—the cane bit deep. He yelped, “One, thank you Miss.” We went on like that. Each swing built heat, welts rising in neat rows. He squirmed, but I held steady. By the twelfth, his voice cracked on the counts. I will not have disobedience and glib attitudes in my prison. i will be respected.

After Carlton, Fletcher took his turn bent over the desk and suffered equally, 12 neat cane strokes striping his bottom. Another bad boy taught a painful lesson.

I made them stand then, trousers still low, hands on heads, in four of my desk. The room smelled of sweat and polished wood. I lectured the on they bad behaviour, eyes locking on theirs. Many lads come in cocky, like these two. I’ve seen dozens—arrogant thieves, brawlers with fire in their eyes. They all crack under my watch. Time in the cells will grind the rest away. I break them all in the end. After all, they are here to be corrected and reformed.

At last, I called the guards. “Process them. Down to the blocks.” They hobbled out, humbled for now. Bad boys learn the hard way. And Miss Iceni always wins in the end.

Brian, Jamie Fenrir, Miss Iceni

Resolution : 1920×1080
Duration : 00:13:13