... will arrive at your school on November, 21th.
We want to express our utmost gratitude to you for taking care of our daughter.


Best regards

Mr & Mrs Fenner“

With a sigh I fold the letter, put it down on the desk and lean back in my chair. Another girl arriving soon, one in a steady stream of girls who come to this school. A few are sent here by their parents because they think their daughters aren't good for anything but being married, some because they brought disgrace on their families by having an unwanted child. Most, however, are runaways sent here by the authorities.
It doesn't really matter where they come from or why they are being sent here, tho. In this institution, they're all the same: Girls who learn how to run a household and be a good wife to a husband or servant to their employer. And of course they learn the most important things a young girl needs to learn: Discipline and obediance.

Once they leave, they are perfect housewives or housemaids. The difference between those two is meaningless. Neither of the two get to choose who will be running their lives. And the job description is the same for both too: To keep the house in order and their husband/employer happy.
Sure, some of the girls being sent here by their rich parents look down on the poor souls from lower classes. Not for long, though. They are all treated the same here, and eventually all learn that they are not only treated the same, they indeed are the same.

I get up and look out of the window, savouring the beautiful view in the fading light. The mountains with the first snow, the dark forests and brown meadows, the potholed gravel road and finally the village far below in the valley. Sometimes, after a particularly heavy snowfall, we're cutoff for a whole week or more.
Besides myself there are only two other teachers here: Miss Willi, a local who runs the kitchen and teaches cooking and waiting at table. Mrs Blanc, a widow well in her fifties, teaches all the other chores: Ironing, washing, cleaning, you name it. And finally there is Peter, the janitor. Not much personnel to look after 24 pupils.

I hear the bell announcing dinner. Straightening my skirt and grabbing the cane I head down to the dining room. They all stand behind their chairs in their blouses and pleated skirts, waiting for me to inspect them. Neatly lined up in a straight line, backs straight, hands resting on the backs of their chairs, silent. Perfect.
„Hands!“ The girl I'm talking to immediately shows me her hands. I scrutinize them but she did a good job, no speck of dirt under her nails, nothing. „Good.“ She exhales, glad she's passed today.
On the next girl's blouse I spot a tiny speck of dust. „Lint! Three strokes.“ „Yes, Ma'am, i am very sorry.“ Good, at least she doesn't beg to be spared the punishment. If they fail, they should accept their punishment and learn from it, not start begging and pleading. She leans forward, bending at the waist, and pulls up her skirt. I pull down her white cotton panties and caress her firm buttocks. Then I step back and lash her three times fiercely across both buttcheeks. She clenches her teeth and sharply draws in air while tears well up in her eyes.
I raise my voice to speak to them all: „If you neglect yourself, you will neglect everything else too. Therefore negligence is not and will never be tolerated in this house.“
Nobody moves. They all have heard that a thousand times already, because it's one of the most important lessons they need to learn.
„Now enjoy your meal. Bon appetit.“ They all wait until I'm seated at the head of the table. I watch the girl I just caned sitting down carefully. Good, that will remind her for some time.