Saturday, 23 October 2010

The Markham Girls.

'story by Lori'

"Okay, Miss Briars, I'll be there. Thank you." I placed the telephone back on the receiver and took a deep, calming breath. I really couldn't believe this was happening! I called up the stairs. "Jenny, can you come here please?"
My eighteen year old daughter Jennifer, Jenny for short, came bouncing energetically down the stairs, she'd been home for about an hour and had changed out of her uniform and into cropped jeans and a red hoodie, the height of fashion of course and she looked adorable it it. "What's up, mum?"
I couldn't help frowning at her. "I've just had a phone call from the secretary of your school." Jennifer's face immediately turned red. "It seems they think you've been involved in bullying?"
She swallowed hard and began to fidget."It wasn't me exactly."
"Uh, what's that supposed to mean?"
"Well.. some of my friends were picking on this other girl because she was wearing really awful shoes."
"And did you join in?"
"No I didn't pick on her, mum."
She looked shiftily down at the floor."Well, I suppose I did join in a little bit."
I gave her an admonishing stare."Oh Jenny, I can't believe you'd do something like that!"
"I know, I'm really sorry mum, I just sort of got caught up in it."
I shook my head. "Well as a result of you 'just getting caught up in it' I have to go and see your year head tomorrow morning and try to sort it out!"
She looked at me wide eyed. "Mr Ryan?"
"Yes, Jenny, Mr Ryan." Just saying his name sent a shiver down my spine. "And God only knows how I'm going to convince him not to punish you."
Jennifer became tearful. "I really am sorry, mum, I never meant to cause any trouble. It was Paula again, you know what she's like for stirring things up"
My heart melted, I walked over to her and wrapped my arms tightly around her. "I know, sweetie." I kissed the top of her head. "Don't worry, I'll sort it out, everything will be okay."
I watched her go back upstairs and let out a huge sigh, I had tried to sound confident and reassuring, but deep inside I was a wreck.
Jenny was a sixth former at St Catherine's girls school and sixth form college, she was a happy student who did well in her studies, and was heading towards a very bright future, so she didn't want anything affecting her school records.
The school itself was a lovely old building set in spacious grounds, and had a reputation for hard work and discipline. Despite having modern technology like computers and scanners it was still old fashioned inside, numerous antique paintings adorned the wood panelled walls, ornate lamp lit the hallways, and apart from the carpeted staff rooms and studies, and the marble floor in the entrance hall, it had wooden floors throughout. Each classroom was much smaller than at modern schools, housing no more than twenty pupils, so the teacher to pupil ratio was outstanding, this of course led to better exam results and performance. All in all it was a brilliant school, I knew this only too well, as I had also been a student there.

My mind wondered back to when I was doing my A levels, it was 1985, I was one of John Ryan's pupils and I had a terrible crush on him. I worked hard at my studies, but was always doing things to try and get his attention, unfortunately for me this was seen as bad behaviour and one day, when I pushed him too far, he sent me to see my year head Miss Cathcart, that was a painful experience in more ways than one, and the memory of it had always haunted me, but until now I'd been able to push it to the back of my mind. Suddenly I was re-living it all over again and it made me sick to my stomach.
I just wished my husband William was there to help me deal with it,but he'd passed away eighteen months ago and since then I'd had to deal with everything. My eyes filled with tears. "Oh, Bill, I really need you right now."


That evening Jenny and I carried on as usual, after she'd done her homework we had dinner, and settled down in front of the television to watch our favourite soaps, then I put on a rom-com DVD and we shared a huge bag of Maltesers. Neither of us said very much, and the chocolates lasted a lot longer than usual, but I tried not to let my anxiety about the following morning affect things for Jennifer's sake. She was my pride and joy and I'd do anything to protect her, even if it meant crawling to John Ryan, but the thought of that made my stomach do somersaults!!

Before she went to bed I asked her. "You okay honey?"
"Yeah, a bit worried I guess." she shrugged.
"Well try and get some sleep," I smoothed her hair, "I'll be coming in with you in the morning and hopefully I'll soon get it all sorted out with Mr Ryan."
"Okay, thanks, mum." she kissed me on the cheek. "Night."
"Night, sweet pea." I watched her go and hoped she would have a night full of sweet dreams, but I knew I'd be lucky to get a wink of sleep. My stomach did another somersault, so I busied myself tidying up and dusting, anything to keep my mind off tomorrow morning.

I eventually went to bed, but tossed and turned all night. Every time I closed my eyes I had visions of wooden desks and blackboards, then the image of an old fashioned room flashed before me, it was small with wooden panelling on the walls, a huge fireplace with paintings above it, red carpet on the floor, a sofa, and an old armchair. Then suddenly, I sat bolt upright as the vision of a cane rushed towards me. I could even hear the swishing sound it made and my blood ran cold. Then I realised, the room in my vision was Miss Cathcart's room, the room where I was caned!

I tried to get the memory out of my mind, I told myself that even if John Ryan used the same room it wouldn't look anything like that, but still it plagued me all night.

I got up at six am and went through my wardrobe, trying to focus on what to wear, I chose my outfit then headed into the bathroom hoping a long soak would help me relax. While the bath was filling I took off my silk pyjamas and placed them in the laundry hamper, I then chose a lavender bath creme from my collection and added it to the water, watching as the bubbles formed and swirled around. Lavender was relaxing so maybe it would help me, I certainly needed something right now. Once the bath was full I turned off the taps and slid into the water, it was heavenly as the hot soapy water rose up over me, I was enveloped in the relaxing scent and for a moment felt quite calm, then thoughts came flooding back and I began to feel anxious again. I spent about twenty minutes washing, exfoliating and where necessary shaving until I was scrubbed and preened, I then allowed myself a few moments to lay back and enjoy the warmth, but before long I was out and drying myself. I wrapped my hair in a towel, put on a robe and went down to the kitchen to make myself a much needed coffee, it wasn't long before Jenny sloped in, all bleary eyed and yawning. I went over and gave her a hug. "Did you sleep okay sweet pea?"
"Yeah, not too bad thanks. How about you?"
"Yeah slept like a log." I lied, hoping the dark circles weren't too much of a give away. "What do you fancy for breakfast?"
"Oh um, just toast please, have we got any honey?"
I smiled at her. Jenny loved honey, we always joked she was like Winnie the Pooh and we always had at least two jars in the cupboard. "When do we ever not have any honey for your breakfast?"
She smiled back. "Okay, good point." I turned to get the bread and felt arms around my waist, I turned to face my beautiful daughter and could see the worry in her eyes, I smoothed her hair. "Everything'll be okay you know."
"I know." Her eyes started to water. "I.. I love you,Mum."
I smiled and choked back the tears. "I love you too sweetheart, now sit yourself down and I'll sort out your breakfast, then we'll have to get going."
I made Jenny some toast and honey, and sat with her while she ate, all I could manage was a coffee and that was with some difficulty as my heart was in my throat. We quickly did the washing up, then headed upstairs to get dressed. After drying and fixing my hair I double checked my clothes to make sure they were spotless and perfectly pressed, then put them on. I'd chosen matching white bra and panties, one of my favourite sets with sheer material and a lace trim, then smart black trousers, a white blouse and smart black court shoes, this was finished off with some gold earrings and my black leather jacket and bag. I studied myself in the mirror and felt quite pleased with myself. I might be forty three, but I still had a good figure, and I was definitely going to make a good impression on Mr Ryan. I wanted him to know I meant business and was a woman to be taken seriously, and looking like this I didn't think I could fail. I just wished my confidence matched my outfit!
As soon as we were both ready we headed out to the car, it was a twenty minute drive to Jenny's school, but this morning it seemed like a thousand miles, I put the radio on to try and break the tension. I would normally drop her at the gate, but this morning I drove on though and up the long driveway. The school was set in pretty grounds and the flowers and trees gave a warm welcome, but this did little to lighten the mood in the car as we approached the building, I'd always thought of the school as attractive, but this morning it seemed to loom before me like a great foreboding temple of doom!
I parked the car in one of the visitors spaces and turned to look at Jenny. "You okay?"
"Uh huh." she replied. "I hope, well you know."
"Yeah, I know." I nodded. "Don't worry, I can handle Mr Ryan, you just go and see your friends and have a good day."
"Okay, mum, thanks."
"I'll pick you up usual time."
"But, what if he-?"
"We'll cross that bridge if we come to it." I interrupted. "Let's be positive!" I caressed her cheek and smiled reassuringly at her.
She smiled at me. "Right, girl power!"
I laughed. "Yes, girl power."
We both got out of the car and I gave Jenny a big hug before she dashed off to catch up with her friends, I then stared at the school before taking a deep calming breath and heading towards the entrance, but as I stepped inside more memories came flooding back, I suddenly felt like I was eighteen again.
It wasn't as though I hadn't been in the school recently, I was there quite a lot for parent teacher evenings, presentations, plays and music evenings etc, in fact I'd been coming back to this school ever since we'd enrolled Jenny when she was twelve, but after all those memories resurfaced last night it all felt so different somehow.
I walked across the marble floored hallway and knocked on the secretary's door, she soon opened it and gazed at me over the top of her spectacles. "Ohh, Mrs Markham. Do come in." she smiled.
"Thank you." I stepped inside her office. The school secretary, Miss Felicity Briars, was a kind, efficient, and well organised woman, she'd been the secretary for over thirty years so we knew each other well, I'd been to her many times when I had to hand in a sick note or permission slip. She ran the place light a well oiled ship and if there was something she didn't know about St Catherine's it wasn't worth knowing. Her office was immaculate with everything in it's proper place, though goodness knows how she could find anything as there were hundreds of lever arch files and cabinets in the room. Despite her stern looks she was a very caring and compassionate woman and hated any upset or controversy regarding the pupils, her 'little poppets' as she called them.
"Have a seat." she gestured to the chair nearest to me and I sat down. "I'm so glad you could come in at such short notice, I just hope this situation can be resolved quickly."
"Oh so do I." I frowned. "Can you tell me what happened yesterday?"
"I'm afraid I don't know any specific details other than what I told you on the phone, Mr Ryan just asked me to get in touch with you to arrange a meeting."
I sighed. "Right, I see." I gazed at the clock, it was eight forty five and my meeting was scheduled for nine. "Do I wait here then?"
"Yes dear," she smiled. "Mr Ryan will call down when he's ready to see you."
"Okay thank you." I nodded. Miss Briars was soon embroiled in more paperwork and phone calls, so I sat nervously and waited for the clock to tick around, it seemed to be hardly moving. Every time the phone rang my heart leapt out of my chest, there must have been a dozen false alarms, but eventually Miss Briars said. "Yes of course, I'll send her right up." and I knew my time had come.
"He's ready to see you know." she confirmed, "You know which room it is don't you?"
I shook my head. "I've never been to see him before so no."
"She gave me a sympathetic smile. "Its the room Miss Cathcart used to have."
A shudder went through me at the mention of her name. "Oh, well in that case I know exactly where it is!"

I left Miss Briars to her paperwork and made my way along the hall and up the sweeping wooden staircase, as I went I couldn't help thinking that all of the paintings on the wall were the same as when I was a pupil, I'd not noticed that up until now. After reaching the top of the second flight of stairs I turned right and made my way along a narrow corridor, at the far end was a solid wooden door, it seemed to be beckoning at me as I approached. The plaque on the door soon confirmed I was at the right place and I was about to knock, but my body didn't want to co-operate. I was just trying to calm myself down when the door suddenly swung open and there in front of me was the man himself. I hadn't seen him for a long time, and hadn't actually spoken to him since I was his student. I wondered if he would remember me?
He gave me a superior smile as he held out his hand. "Mrs Markham, thank you for coming, do come in."
"Thank you." I replied timidly. I shook his hand, noting how strong it felt. Then I stepped into the room and immediately felt faint with shock, it was exactly as I remembered it, every detail, the wood pannelling, the paintings on the wall, the two seater sofa and the armchair by the fireplace were all the same, it even had a red carpet although it was obviously fairly new. I gazed around in disbelief and felt a tingling in my bottom, I was totally stunned, this room hadn't altered since I'd been caned twenty five years ago.
I heard the door close behind me, then felt a hand in the small of my back which made me jump. "Please take a seat."
I sat down but was bolt upright, my heart was racing and I felt sick, but I took a deep breath and tried to hold it together. John Ryan was looking through some forms, presumably Jenny's school reports, and had a stern look on his face.
I studied him more closely, I'd had a crush on him all those years ago, and as I looked at him it was easy to see why, he was still very handsome. John Ryan was slim but muscular with strong looking arms and must have been about six foot tall. I noted his hair, it used to be much longer back then, but now it was much shorter but still jet black, his blue eyes still sparkled and his full lips looked more kissable than ever. Then I thought about what he was wearing, I'd been imagining him in a tweed suit with a loud tie, I couldn't have been more wrong as he had on black trousers and a black polo neck top, quite casual compared to what I was expecting. I was lost in thoughts and day dreams, but then he suddenly looked up at me and my heart leapt into my throat, I dreaded what he was about to say.
"Well, Mrs Markham, it seems to me that your daughter seriously lacks some discipline in her life!"
I was stunned, how cold he possibly justify saying that? "What?"
"According to these reports there have many incidents where her behaviour has been less that acceptable."
He'd got my hackles up now and all feelings of trepidation washed away, he was talking about my little girl and I wasn't about to take it lightly. "Such as when?"
"Well there was the incident yesterday when she was involved in bullying."
"Yes but-"
"And there was another incident last week when she failed to hand in an assignment on time."
"Oh now hang on a minute, she-"
"She was found to have her mobile phone switched on during a lesson."
I was still fuming from the accusations, let alone the fact he kept interrupting me. "Yes I know about that but-"
"Then there was the incident when she was late for registration."
That one took me off guard. "Late for registration?"
"Yes, Mrs Markham."
"When was this?"
He rifled through the papers. "Tuesday."
That was the day before yesterday, I wracked my brain, trying to think of what might have caused her to be late, but I came up with nothing. Suddenly timidity and fear swept through me again. "I.. I didn't know about that."
Mr Ryan raised his eyebrows. "And did you know she'd been answering back to some of her teachers?"
I swallowed hard. "No?"
"Hmmm." He sat back in his chair and pressed his fingers together, then stared at me. "Does Jennifer get any discipline at home?"
I felt totally intimidated, I shifted awkwardly in my seat and fiddled with the buttons on my jacket. "I um.. I punish her if I think it's appropriate, which isn't very often."
"And exactly what form do these punishments take, do you ever spank her?"
"No never, she either gets grounded, or I make her do extra chores. It depends what she's done. But she's usually such a good girl I don't need to punish her."
He smiled at me. "Well, it seems she's not as good a girl as you thought, doesn't it?"
I looked down at the floor, hardly knowing what to say.
"Perhaps if the circumstances allowed the same punishments as when you were a student, she'd behave better? After all, the cane certainly seemed to do you the world of good!"
I looked up at him and felt my face turn crimson, so he did remember me. I didn't know what to say, my heart began to race and my bottom was tingling.
"It must feel quite strange for you, being back in this room?"
I nodded. "Yes, it does."
"Well if I had my way Jennifer would be in here tasting the cane across her bottom too!"
My face was burning now, but I kept my composure. "I'd never agree to any such thing, not for my daughter."
He raised his eyebrows. "Under the circumstances I'd have thought it would be a much more appealing option."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, Mrs Markham, that you daughter is facing suspension."
I felt tears begin to well in my eyes and I shook my head. "No, no that can't happen, it'll ruin her chances."
"I'm not sure that there's much I can do to prevent that." He shrugged.
"But, surely you could punish her in some other way?"
"Well I was planning to give her a week of detention for being late, but after yesterday-"
"Please don't suspend her." I interrupted, "I promise I'll talk to her and make sure this doesn't happen again."
He screwed up his mouth. "And I can trust you to take her punishment into your own hands?"
"Yes of course." I nodded.
"So what do you plan to do?"
"Well, I'll ground her, and give her a good talking to, hopefully that will do the trick."
"I wish I could believe that." He leant forward and rested his elbows on he desk. "I'll forego the suspension on one condition."
"What's that?" I asked nervously.
"That you begin a regime of corporal punishments."
I shook my head. "I.. I couldn't do that."
He suddenly looked sympathetic. "Look, I know it can't have been easy for you since your husband passed away, but you really need to take control of this situation for Jennifer's sake."
"I thought I had." I became tearful and he handed me some tissues.
"She just needs some guidance and discipline to help her know her boundaries, I'm sure if you give it a try you'll find it very beneficial. Like I said it used to be very effective here before the law changed, now we have to rely on other punishments and hope the parents take matters seriously as well."
I thought about this for a while. "But, I don't even know how to, you know, spank her."
He smiled reassuringly at me. "Well there's one way of correcting that."
"I'll gladly give you a demo."
I shook my head. "No, I don't want you spanking my daughter."
"That's not what I meant."
"So what did you-?" Suddenly the penny dropped. "You mean?"
He nodded. "Yes, I mean I'll give you a spanking!"
My heart was in my throat, and it was going like a racehorse. I felt myself blush deeply and my bottom tingled, but I also had a strange tingling in my groin. "Oh I don't think-" My voice trailed off.
"Well it's up to you of course, but if you don't want Jennifer to be suspended than-"
"Okay, okay." I took a deep breath. "I'll.. I'll do it. I'll let you spank me."
There was a positive glint in his eye as he heard those words, and a strong tingling between my legs. As I watched him stand up my heart was hammering in my chest, and there were a million butterflies in my stomach. I must have been mad, but I had to do it for Jennifer.
"I think you've made a wise choice," he smiled. "after all, it'll be the best thing for your daughter, and we want her to have a prosperous future don't we?"
I nodded. "Yes..." I muttered, almost adding Sir!
Mr Ryan walked over to the sofa by the fire place and sat down, then he shifted position until he was sitting on he edge of it. "Come here please." he beckoned.
I swallowed hard then stood up, my legs were shaking and I could hardly put one foot in front of he other. I took off my jacket and draped it over the chair, then I walked over to him, but before I had a chance to think he'd grabbed my left wrist and pulled me down across his lap. I let out a gasp as I landed on his thighs, he tipped me so far forward that my face was only inches from the red carpet, and I placed my hands on the floor to steady myself.
"This is exactly how I expect you to deal with your unruly daughter!" he exclaimed, right before he landed a sharp smack across my bottom. It didn't really hurt that much, but my ego was already bruised by the indignity of it all. "You will teach her respect!" Another sharp smack. "You will make her work hard!" And another smack. "And above all you will make it clear that she will be disciplined every time she deserves it!" He then proceeded to land a fast volley of stinging smacks across my poor behind that had me squealing and squirming. By the time he stopped the carpet was a blur and I was out of breath, I lay there limp as he rubbed his hand over my bottom. "Is that understood, Elizabeth?"
He'd used my first name, suddenly I felt subservient and juvenile, I instinctively responded. "Yes, Sir."
"Good girl!" He patted my bottom. "Up you get."
I hastily scrambled to my feet, glad it was over and I could get out of here, I turned to walk away.
"Uh, just a minute, young lady, we haven't finished yet."
I turned and looked at him, wide eyed. "What... do you mean?"
"That was only the warm up."
I shook my head. "You're kidding me."
"No, I'm not!" His face confirmed he wasn't, he looked so stern I almost crumpled to my knees. I gazed down and and chewed my bottom lip. "Now, you need to realise that discipline isn't just about physical pain, humiliation is a big part of it too, to be effective the culprit must learn to obey and submit to authority. Do you understand that?"
I had to be honest. "No, not really Sir."
"Well, remember how you felt when you were caned? You were made to bend over the desk with your skirt raised."
I remembered only too well, it was embarrassing and humiliating to say the least. "Yes, I remember."
"Well that was just as much a part of your punishment as the actual caning."
I swallowed hard, knowing where this was leading.
"So I want you to take off your shoes please."
I frowned at him and slipped my shoes off.
"Now your trousers please."
I shook my head. "Oh no please, I understand what I have to do to Jennifer, you don't need to-"
"Take them off!" He demanded. "We had an agreement, I show you how to handle your daughter and she doesn't get suspended."
My instinct was to run, I'd go and find Jennifer then we'd get out of this school as quickly as possible and never come back, but I knew that wasn't going to happen.
I sighed deeply, then with shaky fingers I unzipped my trousers and slowly slipped out of them, I folded and placed them with my jacket, then turned around but couldn't look Mr Ryan in the eye. I folded my hands in front of me, wishing I'd worn more substantial panties rather than these sheer ones that left little to the imagination. My hands were placed to cover my modesty and I just hoped he'd get on with it.
"Look at me." He said a little more softly.
I eventually managed to look at him.
"That's better. Now, please take off your blouse."
I felt a shiver run though me and my face burned, he couldn't possibly be serious. "No." I replied firmly.
"I don't like having to ask twice."
"Well tough, I'm not taking my blouse off in front of you, what are you, some sort of pervert or something?"
"No, I'm a disciplinarian and this is to be done properly or not at all, now take if off."
His voice was firm but calm, but I was anything but calm and felt my legs begin to shake. It was all so surreal that I couldn't believe it was happening, but I wanted it to end so I reluctantly began to undo the buttons. I finally took off my blouse and placed it with my other things, then I turned to look at him. I tried to hold my head high but I felt so exposed wearing only my bra and panties, suddenly my breasts and labia felt huge, and I could swear my bottom was swelling to twice it's usual size, but the worse thing was the way my sex betrayed me, I didn't like it one bit, but I was getting aroused.
My heart was still racing so fast that I felt faint, Mr Ryan looked me up and down, but there was no real expression on his face, only that of a stern man.
"Turn around please."
I did as he asked, slowly, feeling extremely self conscious.
"Good, now, I'm going to put you back over my knee and spank you again, is that understood?"
I had such a strong tingling sensation in my sex at those words that I felt sure it was going to explode. John Ryan had always excited and aroused me as a teenager, but I really could have done without those feelings right now. "Yes, Sir, I understand." I muttered.
"Right then, get over my knee!"
I bent across his lap, and once I was draped there he manoeuvred me into the desired position, my face only inches away from the floor again, only this time he shifted his right leg higher so my bottom was pushed out and much more vulnerable to his firm hand. I felt so exposed and helpless, and I shuddered as I suddenly felt his hand on my bare back. He held me tightly in place and I stopped breathing, waiting for it to begin. "There are three reasons for making a naughty girl strip to her underwear." he explained calmly, "One is to cause her humiliation, another is to make the sting more effective, and the last is a practical one, if the bottom is covered the spanker can't see if they're having any effect, or indeed overdoing it and causing injury."
I had to admit there was a lot of sense in what he'd just said, but I wasn't about to tell him that!
"I hope you'll learn from this experience and take away all the lessons I've taught you today." He exclaimed, and with that he begin to soundly spank me.
The slaps alternated from one cheek to the other and back again, and then across both cheeks, but all were hard and stinging. It was unpredictable and relentless, and before long I was squirming and squealing uncontrollably. Despite my protests he continued, so I began reasoning with him, telling him I'd learnt my lesson and would do my best to deal with Jennifer, and to my surprise and relief he stopped. I took a deep breath, but then gasped as I felt him begin to unceremoniously pull my panties down.
"We'll have these out of the way!"
I reached back and cried out. "Noooo!" But within seconds my pretty, sheer panties were around my knees and I lay there, bare bottomed and stunned. I struggled to get up but he pulled me close to him and held me so tightly I felt scared of what was to come. I was right to be scared. The next few minutes were a blur, he began to soundly spank me again but this time it was on my bare bottom and thighs, it felt like I was on fire, I squealed and kicked but couldn't free myself from his vice like grip. John Ryan was roasting my poor defenceless behind and there was nothing I could do about it. Within moments he had me sobbing like a child.
I think the spanking had stopped long before I realised it, but by then I was in a dream state, I lay there, sobbing and struggling to breath, then something unexpected happened, Mr Ryan began gently caressing my bottom. He tenderly ran his hands down over each sore cheek, and then on down the backs of my thighs, it sent a shiver through me, but this time it was a pleasant one. As he brought his hands back up my thighs they slipped ever so slightly between them, I felt him brush lightly against my sex lips and arousal overwhelmed me. I could already feel the wetness and was sure it must have been evident from his viewpoint, maybe that was was why he was being so tender with me? He rubbed my back while continuing to caress my bottom, his hand slipped around and just brushed against the edge of my right breast, I felt my nipples harden at his touch and I gasped. I was actually starting to relax, enjoying the sensations that were building inside me, shamefully I wanted it to develop, I wanted him to touch me, hold me, kiss me and most of all, make love to me right there and then. I longed to feel him inside me, I began to fantasise all over again, just as I had all those years ago.
Then John Ryan broke the spell!
"Right then, Young lady, I think some corner time is in order for you!"
I felt like I'd been floored, corner time? He made me sound like an eight year old.
He patted my bottom. "Up you get." He helped me to my feet and my panties dropped down to my ankles. "Best take those off." he suggested bluntly. I stepped out of them and suddenly became aware of my nakedness, my hands flew to cover my pubis. "Hands on head please." I stared at him with a mixture of hatred and admiration, oh boy he was good at this. I reluctantly placed my hands on my head and felt completely exposed, my pubic mound almost eye level wuth him. "Thats better," he pointed to the far side of the room. "now I want you to go over to that corner and stand still, with your hands on your head, until I tell you to come out. Is that understood?"
This could not be happening to me, a forty three year old mother of one. But it was happening so I meekly obeyed. I wandered over to the corner wearing only my bra, my bottom stinging at every step, and faced the wall. My hands were resting on the top of my head and I felt totally humiliated. There was no way I'd put Jennifer through anything like this, but I wasn't about to tell John Ryan that.
I stared at the wood panelling, seeing every detail in the grain, then occasionally my eyes would flit up to look at the portrait hanging nearby, it was an old painting of a wealthy looking man, and his eyes seemed to be staring accusingly at me. I felt like I'd been standing there for hours when it had really only been a few minutes, my bottom burned and I fidgeted to try and ease it, but I could sense Mr Ryan staring at me. I didn't want any more punishment so I did my best to keep still, but this was made difficult by the fact my sex was also burning and desperately needed some attention! Oh how I longed to get out of his office and attend to my urgency.
My head buzzed and was full of thoughts and feelings.
How had all this happened?
Why had it all aroused me so much?
How much longer would he make me stand there?
Would he expect some sort of evidence that I'd chastised Jennifer?
And, more importantly, how easy would it be to persuade him to give me more lessons in the fine art of discipline?


Trapped In Time.( A Necromancers Tale )

'A story by Tomas'

As I sit, and wait, I toy with the idea of lighting the wood burner, but if They don't arrive it will be unbearably hot in the little study. So I decide just to have a little fleece hoody handy, should They arrive tonight.
It's odd, that when I bought the old vicarage, my intentions were to thoroughly modernise it.
Now though I spend most of my time, and money, trying to make this study look as old as possible. They seem to prefer it that way. So out went my stereo, and my computer station, in came an old green leather armchair, and a small a old fashioned sofa. After a great deal of rutting around in the attic space, I found some old photos of how the room used to look. I also found two old oil paintings that used to hang above the mantle, a little restoration, and they were as good as new. Hawking around flea markets, to find suitable horse brasses, inexpensive, but time consuming, all worth the effort. You see, the older this wood panelled little study looks. The longer They will stay, but when They will arrive, is another thing. Then I feel the now familiar drop in temperature, I reach for my fleece, and put it on. When I say a drop in temperature, I mean a plunge to almost sub-zero. Then I hear muffled voices coming along the landing. Then They enter, through the closed door. As always the older, austere looking lady with the carpetbag leads the way. The younger girl in tow. Where are They from? I don't know, really the question should be, when are They from? At a guess, I would say, going by their dress late Victorian, early Edwardian. The technical term for them, is an imprint haunting, a tableau that has to repeat itself for all eternity. Having changed the room however, seems to increase the tableau's length, with each little regression in time the show gets that little longer. I call them They, because I know nothing about them. The older woman, could be the vicars wife, or sister? The younger girl, dressed in black, could be a maid, or a young widow, or even a younger sister, who knows.
What I do know is what will follow, once They have arrived.
The older woman will say. "I cannot allow such lascivious behaviour in our house, a house of god!"
The younger will say. "I'm so sorry, it won't happen... it won't happen again."
To what behaviour? What They are referring to I don't know, but the outcome is always the same. The older lady sits down on the sofa, and beckons the younger forward, patting at her lap. The younger, her face already deathly pale, goes one shade whiter, as she drapes herself over the waiting knees. The older one, unbeknownst to the younger, has a little smile at her charges distress. She then lifts the young girl's skirts up high on her back. Bringing her drawers into view, as always she parts the rear flap of her drawers, to bare her little cherubic buttocks. At this point, I sometimes like to have a wander. The whole scene is akin to watching a video, over, and over again. This though is not like watching any video, no matter how HD, or 3D. This is living the moment. You see this moment, is actually living itself out in front of me. I can move around the room. They are blissfully unaware of me, no angle, no view is out of bounds. As the spanking starts, I can take my pick of vantage points. Looking into the young girls eyes, as the blows rain down upon her bared behind? Crouched down, behind her ankles, staring at her labia, as the folds of her sex do a little dance of their own to each blow? Or looking into the older woman's eyes, trying to work out what it is that drives on this pain lust? The choice is always mine, different views, but the same soundtrack, of slapping, and squeals of pain. Tonight though, I decide to relax, and sit out the hand spanking from my armchair, a nice warming tea in my hand. I watch the older woman's face, almost as flushed as the girl's poor posterior, her blue eyes sparkling at the joy of her task. I know the spanking is nearing it's close. The young girl is distressed, but not in full tearful flow. Yet. I rise up from seat, and make my way to behind the sofa, knowing what is to come next.
"Right, get up you shameless little hussy." The older woman orders. The young girl rises shakily to her feet.
"Pass me my bag." The young girl obeys, with fear in her eyes. The older woman delves into her bag, and pulls out first a leather strap, about a quarter of an inch thick. Then follows, a yellowy white tubular object, about four inches long, the sight of which causes the girl to gasp out.
"Please, Ma'am... no not that... please it's so shameful!"
"Silence. You weren't thinking of shame half an hour ago were you? Now lift your skirts, and take down your drawers." The older one orders. Reluctantly, the girl obeys, giving me a view of her lush thick black pubic triangle. "Now over the back of the sofa."
The girl moves into position, her sweet heart shaped face just inches from mine, I look deep into her hazel eyes, waiting for the older to begin her ministrations.
For weeks this had me puzzled, what was the purpose of this white object. Eventually I tracked down what it was, its was root ginger.
The young girl was going to be figged, the root ginger in her anus would make her keep her buttocks relaxed for the strapping to follow. I watch intently, as her facial expression changes. I know the older woman is first inserting one finger into the girls anus, to ease the way for the root. The girl grits her teeth, and closes her eyes, in pain, and humiliation. I look at the older woman's face, she is grinning, enjoying every moment of this. Then with the root in place, we all wait. I can see the expression on the girls face change, as the heat from her fundament starts to build. Sweat is clearly visible on her brow, I want to reach out, and touch her, to console her. I never do though, that could break the charm, so I just watch.
"Please, Ma'am... I'm truly sorry... I'll never do it again." The girl pleads, her pleas fall upon deaf ears.
The strap falls for the first time, the girls mouth opens wide, in a silent scream, her fingers dig deep into the back of the sofa. The older woman, lifts the strap back for the second blow, a look of almost orgasmic relish in her face. I hold my breath, in anticipation... then They both fade away... to nothing.
I'm in the room alone again.
I wish They would stay longer.

Unlicensed Halloween Party!

'A story by Tomas'

My role as parish warden may seem to many to be a rather boring position, an unpaid voluntary job. Running around making sure that nobody is breaking our archaic by-laws, a bit of a joke really. It does however have it's little perks, albeit ones that I prefer to keep quiet. Take for example our local pub, I was already aware that a new landlady had taken over, and that she had ideas to increase business. Nothing wrong with that, as long as she stays within the law, and of course the parish by-laws. It had been brought to my attention that she was having a Halloween fancy dress party, so of course I would have to check to make sure there was nothing amiss. On arriving at the premises I was charged a three pound entrance fee instead of two pounds for not being in fancy dress, needless to say this did not put me in the best of moods. A quick look around the room, and everything seemed to be in order, a nice buffet arranged on two trestle tables. The room decked out in predictable fake cobwebs, with glowing eyed plastic rats dotted about the place, on shelves and under tables etc. The clientele a mixture of vampires, witches, and one mummy whose costume looked particularly impractical and uncomfortable. On the whole though I must say to my disappointment, all seemed to be in order.

Then it happened, as soon as the first few bars of the Crypt Kickers Monster Mash started playing a coven of witches made their way to the dance floor. Gotcha! I thought to myself, now the fun can start. I made my way to the bar and ordered a pint of Guinness from a pretty young nun with fang marks on her neck. "I was wondering if you could tell me who the landlady is please, sister." I asked her.

"Yeah, you want Clair, she is the purple haired witch in the big black boots," she replied pointing to a witch complete with broomstick.

Clair Eno, so that is what she looks like, time to introduce myself I think. I wait for the song to finish, after all I'm in no great hurry. I sip at my pint watching her closely, a nice outfit, short little black dress, black tights and knee length black boots. As she moves under the lights, the black and purple lacy covering catches the eye and draws you to her. Very fetching indeed, a single lady as bar manager also a very unusual appointment. Two songs later she leaves the dance floor and starts to make her way to the bar, I intercept her.

"Hello, I take it you are Miss Eno?"

"Er... yes but that's a bit formal, just call me Clair." She replies with an unsure smile.

"Well you see I'm here on formal matters." I say, fishing in my wallet for the correct business card, and handing it to her.

"Thomas Harold, like Elton John?" She says grinning at me.

"Sorry I'm not with you."

"Your second name sounds like it should be your first name," she says with a teasing look in her blue eyes.

"Well that's as maybe," I say starting to get a little annoyed, "as you can see I am the parish warden, and I am here in that official capacity."

"And how can I help the parish warden?" She says, her tongue darting across her purple lips.

"I'm afraid to say that you are infringing parish by-laws," I say firmly, trying to regain the high ground. "if you had bothered to read them you would realise that."

"What... which by-law?"

"No dancing on a Sunday without express permission from the parish council." I say in triumph, as I watch a frown replace her grin.

"That can't be right, we have a dancing license." She says as if trying to convince herself as much as me.

"Yes but not for a Sunday, surely when you were given this post your employer told you to check out all the by-laws?"

"Well yes... but I don't....." Her voice trailed off in confusion.

"Have we somewhere a little less noisy, and public, to discuss the ramifications of your actions?" I ask, reeling her in.

She nods, solemn faced.

"I'll just go and tell the girls, then we can go to my living quarters."

I watch her bottom swaying as she heads to the bar, all is going to plan.

We both enter the living room of her flat, I seat myself on the sofa, she sits on an armchair opposite me, her skirt riding up as she does so. It is tights that she is wearing, my initial guess confirmed as she gives me a good view of her upper thighs, before realising and pulling her skirt back down.

"The parish council take our by-laws very seriously," I start my little speech. "we tend to look upon any breaking of the laws as a direct insult to the community. As such we always act swiftly, and we have the full backing of the local constabulary and magistrates. How do you think your employer would feel if he loses his drinks license through your ignorance?"

"But it wouldn't.... couldn't come to that!"

"Why not, can you give me any reason why it shouldn't," I watch her fumbling for an excuse, "as far as we are concerned it is no different to you serving underage drinkers."

She stares at me doe-eyed, I know it is now time to feed her the get out clause. "Of course if you were contrite, and were to assure me that no such infractions would take place again, I'm certain I can convince the parish council that the matter has been dealt with, then no further action would be needed."

"You could do that for me?" she asks, her purple finger nails scratching nervously at her knees, her voice almost breaking.

"As I said if you are contrite," I say, now to the catch, "and you are willing to accept our traditional sanction."


"Yes, as I said we are very traditional here, sometimes a good sharp shock can work wonders."

"Sharp shock, I don't follow you." The nervousness returns to her voice.

"A good firm spanking, then things need go no further."

"Spanking? You are joking." Her voice betrays the fact that she knows I'm not joking, her fingers now trail through the ringlets of her purple wig and she becomes newly aware of her fancy dress.

"Yes, it is better than the alternative surely?" I ask her.

"Well it's a bit.... harsh." Say says, but her voice and body language tell me she is now accepting her fate.

"Harsh?" I ask her.

"Yes, harsh." She confirms.

I point to my lap by the way of an invitation. Biting at her lower lip she stands and removes her pointy hat and veil. Slowly she drapes herself across my lap. First I lift back the black and purple pointed lace meshing. Then slowly ever so slowly peel her dress up uncovering her two nylon covered orbs. Then my fingers reach for the waistband of her tights.

"Please.... no. I've nothing on underneath!" She pleads.

"It makes no difference, this was always going to be a bare bottom spanking, just less clothing for me to remove." I tell her.

As I pull down her tights to the back of her knees, she lift her hips with a little sob resigned now to her humiliation. I look down at her almost creamy bottom, so pale like a porcelain statue. I start to spank her slowly, letting each little slap sink in, the sound of flesh on flesh echoing through the room. She grunts a little in discomfort, as I slowly build up the heat to her seat. Then I start the punishment for real, I increase the speed, flicking from cheek to cheek. I alternate from using my palm to using my finger tips. My palm brings a resounding slapping noise, but my fingertips bring forth a cry of shock. It doesn't take long till a mesh covered arm finds it's way back, her hand trying to protect her bottom. I pull it back high upon her shoulder, then recommence my castigation.

"Please stop... pleeeeease I've had enough... I'll read all the rules... I promise!" Clair cries out.

I continue, I know when I will need to stop. After a couple of minutes she is sobbing for real, her pale bottom now bright red, and hot to the touch, but I continue ignoring her tears and her pleas. I've now totally roasted her bottom, so I move a little lower and start at the top of her thighs.

"HARSH!!!!" She shouts out, and I stop.

"I was thinking you had forgotten the safe word." I tell her.

"No," she laughs between the tears. "I was just caught up in it all."

My fingers now trail down over her hot buns, she parts her legs to accommodate my hand as I seek out her wet slick lips.

"It's funny meeting like this," I say. "I've never employed a bar manager before just by interviewing them by emails."

"The parish council, is that all real?" she asks me between sniffs.

"Oh yes, and I'm really the warden." I tell her, my finger now stroking at her firm clitoris. "and by the way, Boxing Day is on a Sunday this year."

'Amelia's Victorian Adventure'-Part 3,Amelia pays for Emma's indiscretion

The next two days were odd to say the least for Amelia, Emma never spoke again about the spanking by the steward, or about what happened after it. Amelia was in a turmoil of feelings, some for Emma, but most of all the shame at what they had done, to her such things were just unheard of. Georgina too had picked up on the subtle change in the girl's behaviour, but couldn't quite put her finger upon it. Even after they had left the boat and headed to the hotel, she could tell there was something not quite right between the girls. The mood had somehow altered, it showed more in Amelia than in Emma. No doubt it will all come out in the wash, Georgina thought to herself, and anyway in three days time the girls will no longer be her problem. As they booked into their hotel, just off the tree lined Plaza de la Constitucion, Georgina asked Emma.

"Will you girls be room sharing again, or do you require separate rooms?"
Before Amelia could speak Emma replied. "We will room share please, aunt, we need to keep our costs down after all."
One look at Amelia's blushing face, and the fact that her niece had never giving "costs" a thought in all her life, told Georgina all she needed to know. "All right then, I'll be requiring my own suite." Georgina announced, trying her hardest not to break out in laughter at the girls. Who would have thought it, my niece and the vicars daughter! Harmless enough as she remembered being told once, 'two men is either yes or no, two women is usually maybe', but what would her sister make of it all?
As the girls settled into their room Georgina joined them, and announced, "great news ladies, we have been invited to a special dinner tonight. The both of you will be escorted by two dashing young officers of Her Majesty's Royal Navy. Whilst I will have to endure the company of a certain Mr Giles Belmont, from the Consulate, so I want you in your finest dresses."
This news set Emma off into a flurry of activity, she loved a ball, whereas Amelia was a bit all at sea by the idea. Though by the time the carriage came all three were ready, and Amelia had been caught up by Emma's enthusiasm. This enthusiasm was not to last for long, the dashing sailors had to set sail, leaving the two girls stood up and alone on a table for four.
"This is not what I had in mind," muttered Emma. "stuck here like two wallflowers. A dinner to honour a dammed Matador as well!"
"Shush!" Warned Amelia, knowing only too well how sensitive the Spanish were about bullfighting.
"I wont shush," Replied Emma, much louder than she intended. "this Paquiro is no more than a butcher that chooses to do his slaughtering in public!"
A couple of heads turned from the table in front of them, and both girls quickly averted their eyes from the enquiring looks. Amelia found herself crossing her fingers as she hoped that none of them spoke English. As the evening progressed, she realised that this was probably a vain hope. As one lady on the table kept giving them both the most unfriendly of looks. Georgina on the other hand was blissfully unaware of what was taking place across the room. Well not blissfully, as it would be hard for her to describe the laboured flirting of Mr Belmont as blissful. To her mind he was the typical faceless, and for that matter chinless bureaucrat found so often in these posts. Not at all like the rough and ready steward from the steamship. When the blond lady approached and introduced herself as Mercedes Justina Peralta, Georgina was happy for the extra company. Happy but not for long, as the blond lady asked Mr Belmont to excuse them for a few minutes, the speed at which he left the table gave Georgina slight cause to be wary of this lady.
"Madame I believe those two young ladies are with you?" she said, nodding towards the girls table, already Georgina felt the urge to strangle her niece before being told anything further.
"Yes they are," she replied, forcing a smile as she realised just who this lady was. "that is my niece and her travelling companion."
"Ah! Your niece and a servant?"
"Not so much a servant... er... but yes, an employee of sorts." Georgina struggled to find the correct way to describe Amelia's role.
"This is a rather delicate matter," the blond lady continued, "one of your charges made very insulting remarks about Francisco Montes Reina, our guest of honour. As you should know we would find it very hard to deal with a family who mock our customs."
Georgina had to think fast, if it turned out that it was Emma that had made the remarks, she could well not get her import licence, if on the other hand it was only a servant, a grovelling apology might just do it. "I am quite confident that my niece would not make any disparaging remarks, so I can only assume it was her companion. Have no fear though, I will find out, and you shall receive a full and frank apology."
"An apology from a servant girl?" The blond said with a bemused look on her face. "I was always led to understand that the British aristocracy dealt with their servants in a, should we say, harsher manner."
Georgina now decided to wing it even further. "Rest assured Senora, she will be punished."
The blond nodded slowly, then smiled and said. "Good, we shall see you both at the Casa del Almirante tomorrow at say three o'clock, she can deliver her apology and you can deliver her punishment." Without waiting for a reply she turned and left, to seek out Giles Belmont.

The return journey to the hotel was uncomfortable to say the least. No sooner had they got in the carriage than Georgina almost screamed. "Are you so stupid that you didn't have the sense to think that some Spanish people can speak English?" Emma paled but stayed quiet, knowing better than to interrupt her aunt. "You truly are the family idiot, the table next to yours was the Peralta family, the very family that I have come here to trade with. For your information Mercedes Montes Peralta was educated in England, she speaks better English than you!" Emma was now reduced to staring at the carriage floor her bottom lip quivering. "When we get back to the hotel go straight to your room, and if you have any sense keep well away from me. Amelia I need to have a little chat with you to see if I can save this situation."
Amelia nodded and said, "yes, miss Georgina, anything I can do to help I will of course do."
"You may regret saying that, Amelia." Georgina almost whispered, still glaring at her niece.
In the lounge of the hotel, Georgina ordered tea for her and Amelia, then as the waiter left them she broke the hanging cloud of silence.
"I don't need to know what remark was made. I certainly don't need to know who made it, what possessed my sister to think that Emma going on a trip across Europe would be a good idea I can't say. You do realise you are going to career from one disaster to another don't you?"
Amelia only raised her eyebrows but didn't speak.
"Well that's for you two to worry about not me. The problem I have, Amelia is this, Senora Peralta heard the remark but does not know which one of you made it. If it turns out to be my niece I will be tarred with the same brush, and any hope of making a deal will fly out of the window. On the other hand, if it turns out to be a servant that said it." Georgina saw the change in Amelia's face at the word servant. "Those were her words not mine. A frank apology... and... well a token punishment would be acceptable."
"Punishment?" Replied the now astounded Amelia.
"Yes, I can understand if you refuse, but think of it as a favour for my idiot niece, if not for her family. I would imagine a light spanking should suffice."
"Spanking?" Said Amelia thinking to herself what is it with this family.
"Yes but I assure you this was not my idea." Said Georgina, blushing slightly at this half truth.
Amelia seemed to take an age, but finally nodded. "If that is what it takes, Miss Georgina."

The next day the minutes seem to drag for Amelia, Emma was doing her best to stay in their room and well away from Georgina. Soon enough though it was time to leave for her appointment at the Casa del Almirante. Upon getting there they were shown into a large room, where sat Mercedes and to Georgina's shock Giles Belmont. Amelia looked ready to make a bolt for the door upon seeing Mr Belmont.
"Ah, Giles," Said Georgina, "I wasn't expecting to see you here today."
"I know, such a tricky thing, international relations and all that." said the odious Belmont as if he didn't want to be there.
"I take it by the fact that you are here," interrupted Mercedes addressing Amelia directly. "we can take your apology as given. Now there is only the matter of the punishment. Madame Georgina you will find this of use." Mercedes then produced a velvet drawstring bag. Georgina opened it, and pulled out a small multi strand whip with a wooden handle.
"A whip?" She said in disbelief.
"A martinet," Replied Mercedes. "commonly used in France, and sometimes here in Spain for the castigation and guidance of youths. I am sure it will be just as effective upon a servants naked behind."
Amelia shook her head, this was not at all what she was expecting.
"I was thinking more of a good spanking over her drawers." Said Georgina, as if she was in a market place and trying to barter.
"No, no, this is not a nursery punishment, this is to teach her to hold her tongue and respect our traditions." Mercedes reminded them.
"So if you could be so kind, Madame Georgina to help her strip."
"Strip?" Asked the now annoyed Georgina.
"Yes, she can show us her true humility by baring herself."
Georgina looked at Amelia who seemed to be in a state of shock. "Mr Belmont," Georgina said trying to take control of the situation. "could you be so kind to leave us for the sake of decency."
Belmont just sat there, a half smile on his face.
"I have asked Mr Belmont to join us here today, so that he can see that we only give the girl an apt and suitable punishment. He is here for the girls well being," said the now grinning Mercedes, Georgina knew she had been had by the two of them.
Georgina was on the verge of telling them both exactly where to go, and also her views on bullfighting, damn them and their Sherry licences, when Amelia spoke in an almost inaudible whisper.
"Miss Georgina, could you help me with my buttons?"
Taken aback by the request, Georgina turned to Amelia, who merely nodded her ascent. With fingers shaking in rage Georgina first unbuttoned the dress so it fell to the floor, then unlaced Amelia's stays from the back, they too joined the dress on the floor. Upon seeing Georgina start to hesitate, Mercedes again interjected.
"Please, Madame we don't have all day, shift and drawers next, or if you like Mr Belmont can assist."
Seeing Amelia shiver at that thought spurred Georgina on anew, and soon enough Amelia was naked apart from her stockings.
"How old are you girl?" Asked Mercedes.
"Nineteen, miss." Replied the dazed Amelia.
"Well, Mr Belmont I propose nineteen strokes of the martinet."
"Yes, Senora that would seem fair to me as well." said Belmont, drinking in Amelia's now bared charms.
"So be it, Madame, nineteen strokes," said Mercedes now addressing Georgina. " and please don't hold back, or I will be forced to take over. Bending across the back of that chair I think."
In silence Amelia took up her place, bending across the back of the low leather arm chair. Georgina brought the little whip across Amelia's pale buttocks, eliciting a little cry of pain or shock.
"A little harder I think, Madame." Said Mercedes.
"Yes I think so too," chirped in the increasingly annoying Belmont. "after all the girl isn't here for a tickling."
All the days frustrations came out in Georgina, without realising it she was now laying into Amelia with all the force she could muster. She was deaf to her cries of pain. She could not even see the increasing redness of the girls behind. She lost count of where she was at. She was in a rage, and poor Amelia was the floodgate for her stress. Then she heard a male voice shouting to her, drawing her back into the room, seeing the welts on Amelia's bottom for the first time she dropped the Martinet to the floor.
"Georgina, Georgina that was twenty one, you have finished her punishment!" cried out Belmont.
Georgina helped Amelia down from the chair, and looked at her tear streaked face, and whispered. "I'm so sorry."
"Mr Belmont," said Mercedes, "I think we can leave the two ladies to get ready for their journey back, the carriage will be outside in half an hour." The two of them left the room leaving the naked Amelia sobbing on Georgina's breast.
After a few minutes for her to collect herself, Georgina started to help Amelia back into her shift and dress, leaving her stay and drawers off for the sake of comfort. After doing up the buttons on the back of Amelia's dress, she turned her around to face her, looking deep into her blue eyes she said. "I hope she is really worth it."
Amelia nodded and said, "she is, miss."

Saturday, 16 October 2010

Letter to the editor!

Ref. HS paddling of trainee teachers.

I have read some previous letters on here, ref. trainee teachers who have received the paddle whilst undergoing their teaching practice. One letter relates to what she perceived as mistaken identity, even though she had broken the school rules, and seemed to think that her status as a trainee teacher would allow her to do so. The other letter, the young lady decided it was OK for her to park in a restricted area even after being warned once already about it. Personally I think both punishments were warranted, as they were both direct rule breaks, in my opinion trainee teachers are indeed students, as they are here to learn. I know many would disagree with me on this point, but as I say that is my opinion.
The real matter that I am writing about though is about trainee teachers and paddling, but not in that context.

It was decided many years ago by the schools board of directors, that to avoid any alleged sexual connotations in the paddling of students, that all punishments would be dealt with by female members of staff irrespective of the sex of the student. As the girl's track and field coach, I was asked if I would like to be one of the assigned paddlers, seeing the logic in this reasoning I agreed. Our school is not one of the paddle happy schools like some that I could mention, and corporal punishment is used as a last resort deterrent, after student counselling and other sanctions have failed. So in an average week I would only expect to see maybe seven or eight students in my office for "the board". Punishments are not decided by me, but by the student counsellors, they write out a punishment form which only tells me or any other designated paddler the amount of pops being awarded. It is felt that the actual rule break that has brought them to the office is an irrelevance for us to know. This works fine as it stops the paddler from being overly harsh, or lenient, depending on their personal views of the offence, so all paddling's are given on a level playing field so to speak.
The last two years or so though has seen a rather odd tradition arrive. It now seems to be some sort of odd tradition, for trainee teachers here on their final year of teaching practice, to request the paddle. Yes you did read that right, I get trainees of both sexes turning up at my office to actually ask for a paddling! The reasons given vary slightly, but usually work along the strand of, "I don't think it would be fair to send a student for the paddle without knowing how it felt myself."
I find this reasoning a bit baffling, and think that it could be some sort initiation that they have dreamed up, similar to Sorority and Fraternity hazings. So my own experiences would throw a shadow of doubt over the "innocence" of the girls in these letters. However last week marked a turn in events. Two trainees came into my office one male one female, and gave me the standard speech about sending students for corporal punishment. As always I sat and listened as if it was the first time I had heard such a suggestion, and told them both, "yes I am prepared to give you a taste of the paddle, but I must warn you both that these will not be token taps, but a full punishment as anything else would be of no point."
As always I received an unsure nod from both of them. I was now though in a slight predicament, as in the past I only received these requests in private, never two at a time.
Do I send one out to wait while I deal with other? Or do I allow them to watch each others punishment? Neither of these options really appealed to me, so I decided to paddle them both at the same time, my room was ample enough to have them both bend next to each other, and it was a simple case of paddling them alternatively one pop at a time. "I would like you both to bend over here, side by side, and grasp the backs of your knees." I told them. Then the turn in events took place. Whether they had been misinformed, or if this shows an upping of the ante by the trainees I don't know. The girl, ( I won't give any names to save blushes.) lifted her skirt high and started to lower her pantyhose, while the male loosened his trousers and lowered them along with his boxers. Now when I got up this morning I wasn't expecting to be seeing a twenty three year olds semi hard dick in my office this afternoon. Nor for that matter a twenty four year olds shaven snatch either. Not knowing whether to laugh, or to shout at the two of them, I decided to make this a paddling that they wouldn't forget. Normally I would dish out three hard pops, over a clothed behind, three being the minimum punishment at our school. I decided these two for their cheek would both receive the maximum eight. "Right bend over then," I said, not passing comment on their nakedness, "you will receive eight pops each, alternating between you." Both of them gasped out aloud at my announcement, but both bent over in my required position. I then set to work on the bared behinds in front of me, I pride myself on the fact that I can hand out a consistent paddling, no variance on the force used regardless of sex. By the fourth pop, the girl was sobbing, by the sixth the male to was shouting out in pain, by the end both sets of buttocks were well bruised and wishing they hadn't came in here. As they stood after I had finished, it was comical watching the girl struggle her pantyhose back up over her painful buns. The males previous tumescence had now dissipated, leaving him with a rather flaccid, unimpressive member. After pulling themselves together they both left my office.

So in future when reading these letters of mistaken identity, or the unfairness of high schools take them with a pinch of salt.

Julie Florida.
(PS I have a quite handsome trainee Phys Ed at the school at the moment, I'm just waiting for the knock on my door.)

Thursday, 14 October 2010

Letter to the editor!

Paddled For Parking
Ref the letter- 'wrongly paddled?',in my own experience as a trainee teacher, I doubt if mentioning that she was a member of staff would have saved her from being paddled.

The high school that I did my final year at treated the trainee teachers as little more than an annoyance, we had no privileges that the students didn't have, apart from access to the staff only lounge, and restrooms. The first week I was there I was warned about parking in the staff car park, which surprised me as I considered myself staff, but I was told in no uncertain terms that I wasn't. A couple of weeks later I was running late, so I parked in the forbidden staff area as it was nearer to the assembly hall. I fully intended to move my vehicle at recess. During my first class of the morning one of the students came in to see me and said. "Miss I have a note for you from the admin office, I've been told to tell you it is very urgent."
I opened the letter and it said that I had to go to see Mr Bains at 15.30.
I had been at the school long enough to learn that Mr Bains, who oddly enough was not a teacher, was in charge of dealing with school disciplinary problems. This being the deep south meant he was the allotted school paddler, even though his post was head of admin. I was puzzled as I hadn't pink slipped any students down to see him, so couldn't think why he would want to see me. As I reached his office there was a girl standing outside, no doubt in trouble for some misdemeanour, as it didn't take much to earn a paddling at this school, the girl looked rightfully worried as I said hi to her.
"I'm early," she said to me, almost in tears. "I don't have to see him till 15:40, so you can just go in he has no one in there at the moment."
I gave the girl a little smile, then knocked,and entered the room.
"Hi, Mr Bains," I said smiling at the stern looking forty year old behind the desk. "I'm Johanna Litchman, I got a note to pop in and see you."
"Pop in and see me? Yes well that's not quite how the note was meant to read, or how it was written." He said unsmiling. "You see we have a problem, you keep parking in the staff area, even though you are not yet staff."
"Well this morning..." I started to say, but was cut off by a wave of his hand.
"You have been told not to park there, have you not?"
I nodded glumly, a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach told me where this was leading.
"So you chose to ignore the rules, and park there anyway. This brings us to a problem, what to do about it, I have decided to give you an option."
I swallowed hard.
"You can take five pops with the paddle, or I can put a note on your training record,saying that Ms Litchman,had problems following the rules set by this school during her time here."
My mind was a muddle, five pops! That was a lot, but a note like that on my permanent record, I would have major problems getting a job, the wording sounded so bad.
"I'll take the pops." I replied glumly.
Mr Bains then buzzed his secretary, a girl who was most likely younger than me entered the room, as all paddling's of the opposite sex required a witness, though I would have preferred the privacy. Rules are rules though.
"Right bend over and grab your ankles," he said flatly, "no hold on, take off your shoes, those heels are too high, I don't want you twisting your ankle then suing the school board."
As I bent over, now bare footed, I was glad I was wearing slacks as it was not unheard of for girls to have to lift their skirts for a paddling. It was the shame of having to show my panties that I was thinking of, not the extra protection that the clothing gave. As my trousers were of a very thin material, and my underwear was a thong style cut, neither offering much protection.
He delivered each pop with conviction, leaving a good fifteen seconds between each one, allowing the pain to spread out from the impact area. By the third stroke I was crying.
After the final stroke I stood upright, and through the tears could see the smug look on Mr.Bains' secretary's face, obviously a girl who loved her work.
I left the room after quickly putting my shoes back on, my eyes still blurred with tears. I made my way down to the female staff restroom, not really believing what had just happened to me at the age of twenty four!

Jo Arkansas

Wednesday, 13 October 2010

'Amelia's Victorian Adventure'- Part 2,Amelia on the steam ship!

The rocking of the railway carriage, had sent all three of the young ladies off to sleep, then Amelia awakes with a start. The events of the last five weeks had invaded her dreams. She looked across at her two travelling companions, and was amazed at the strong family resemblance. She studied Emma's aunt Georgina, the younger double of her Ladyship, taller at almost six feet but the same black hair, and angular features as Lady Wallingford. Amazing really that half sisters could look so alike, and with such an age difference too as Georgina was only twenty four, but a widow also like her half sister. Both of them paying the heavy price of imperialism, a reminder that empires are built on blood. For all her lack of years though, Emma held her aunt in awe, and had told Amelia that she would be pleased when they reached Cadiz then the two of them could continue their journey unencumbered by her aunt. Amelia then looked at the sleeping Emma, the same black hair, but much softer features not unlike those of the queen in her younger, and happier days, also Emma was not as tall as her aunt, though few people were, male or female. In fact the only person taller than Georgina at Lady Wallingford's house was Harrison the butler. Amelia shakes her head, she cannot seem to get him from her mind.

She tries to close her eyes to bring back sleep, but it is no good, all that happens is the return of yesterdays events. Was Harrison merely showing her his authority, or was it meant as some sort of going away present? She felt a slight smile cross her face, accompanied by a burning blush. After her first run in with the butler, that resulted in birching and sodomy. Harrison took every opportunity to have her over his knee for the most minor of indiscretions, each spanking ending with him "fetching" her, it was getting to the point that she was almost hoping for him to find fault with her work. Then the four weeks finished, and she was officially in her post as travelling companion to the young Emma. The days of the butlers summary punishments were over, or so she thought. Emma had decided that the clothes that Amelia had brought with her in her two carpetbags were no where near fine enough for their long journey, so the two of them went off to London to get a new wardrobe for Amelia, and it was these very clothes that brought about her farewell spanking from the butler.
Amelia was showing off her new finery to Rosy, the parlour maid in the room that the two of them shared, when there was a sharp knock on the door. Rosy opened the door and in walked Mr Harrison.
"Tut-tut-tut girls," he said upon on entering the room and surveying the dress strewn beds, "what a mess, you both know that all rooms are to be kept tidy, at all times."
"Sir it was just......" Amelia started to say, only to be waved away by Harrison.
"I think you will both have to have a visit to my pantry, in say half an hour?" he said, and then gave both girls a little bow.
Both girls stared at each other open mouthed, both knew what was coming their way, it was the fact that he wanted to see them together that had them bemused. Rather than give him excuse to punish her further, Amelia quickly changed into her maids uniform for her last time.
Standing in the large main pantry room, both girls hands on their heads and red-faced, waiting as the butler bolted the outer door to save their blushes.
Returning to the room Harrison dragged the big high backed chair into the middle of the floor. "Right girls prepare yourselves." He said, almost absent-mindedly.
Both girls pulled their black skirts high up above their cream drawers, and with shaking fingers tucked them into their broad black belts. Then waited.
"Rosy first I think," the butler finally said, "over you go my girl."
Amelia was transfixed as she watched her friend bend across the butler's lap, his hands deftly opening up the drawers at the back, baring her soft chubby white cheeks.
Then the spanking started, Rosy did not hold back her cries as his hand came down. She had learnt long ago that holding back the tears only prolonged the pain, and delayed the pleasure. Harrison though had also got wise to the ways of some of the girls, crocodile tears meant nothing to him, he went by the hue of the girls buttocks, not by their cry.
Amelia stared on, trying to control her breathing, she had seen Rosy naked on many occasions, though never from an angle such as this. Never had she seen her trying to dance the sting out of her bottom as she seemed to be doing now, each shake of her legs giving Amelia an even lewder view. She knew only to well that in a few minutes time it would be her that would be affording Rosy similar entertainment. Then as the spanking subsided, Harrison pulled Rosy further over his lap, the plump pink lips of her purse now clearly on display to her.
Harrison stared straight at Amelia as he started to fetch Rosy with his fingers. "Be patient, Amy," He said. "it will be your turn soon enough."

"AMELIA! AMELIA!" A voice called out, bringing her back to wakefulness. "Are you quite all right girl?"

"Y.. yes, Miss Georgina, I'm fine." Amelia stuttered out.
"You seemed to be fitting in your sleep," said the more than puzzled lady, "you were gasping for breath."
"No, Miss I'm fine," she struggled out, her face now burning, "truly I'm fine."
Georgina gave Amelia a quizzical look, then shrugged her shoulders.
"We are almost there now," Georgina continued, "so you had better collect up our belongings, I'll get a porter when we reach the station. Then we can get a hackney to the P&O dock."
"Yes, miss." Amelia replied after the sharp reminder of her station, she too would be happy to see the back of the bossy Georgina.
Emma awoke with a yawn and a stretch as the train came to a stop at the station.
"Get a move on sleepy head," her aunt chided the still yawning girl, "we set sail in less than an hours time."

After the rush across town, and an almost scramble to get on board, the three young ladies were shown to their quarters. Amelia and Emma would be sharing a small cabin with twin beds, while Georgina had a cabin of her own. The two younger girls were happy to be free of Georgina's controlling influence, if only for their sleeping time. Then things took a turn for the better for the younger girls, Georgina was not made of sailing stock, no sooner had the ship entered the Solent than she took to her room, a victim of seasickness. Emma could not believe her luck that her aunt was lain up so quickly.
"With her out of the way we can have some fun, Amelia!" she said, the excitement making her voice quiver.
"Fun?" Asked Amelia in an unsure voice.
"Yes, fun. They have gambling tables below deck!" Emma's voice now almost breaking.
"I don't believe in gambling, it's... well it's ungodly." Said Amelia.
"Well you stay in the cabin and read your bible, I'm off to win some money." Emma said as she flounced off.
Emma did indeed win money, quite a girl with the cards and seemingly very lucky. A little too lucky as her time on the tables became a big talking point among the ships crew.
On one of her rare expeditions from her room, a rather pale faced Georgina was talking to one of the stewards.
"Some luck your niece had last night wasn't it, Miss?" Asked the jovial seaman.
"Luck? I'm sorry I'm not with you." Replied the nauseous Georgina.
"Yes at the tables," The steward replied with a broad grin. "quite a card sharp by all accounts."
"Yes indeed, a very lucky girl," she replied clicking on to what the steward meant. "it's to hope her luck does not run out." It just has, Georgina thought to her self. With anger spurring her on, making her sea sickness of secondary importance, she headed to her cabin. Quickly going through her bags she found what she needed, a bright pink silk hankie. Then a quick call to the bridge to verify the stewards statement, and to confirm a few other things. She then set about finding her niece, and Amelia.
Georgina saw her prey, sitting on the foredeck looking out to the sea, both girls the picture of health unlike herself. "Good afternoon, ladies." She said, announcing her presence and catching both girls by surprise.
"Good afternoon." They chorused back to her.
"Are you quite well now, aunt?" Asked a smiling Emma.
"On the mend my dear, on the mend. So how have you two young things been filling your time in while I have been indisposed?" Asked Georgina as she toyed idly with her handkerchief.
"Oh you know, reading, taking in the night skies, chatting about our upcoming adventure." Replied the still smiling Emma.
"Yes there is so little on these ships for young ladies like yourselves." Said Georgina, spinning her web. "For gentleman of course there is the gaming tables, even some females have been known to dabble with the cards."
"Really?" Said Emma in mock surprise, but Amelia knew deep down that the game was up.
"Yes really, as a matter of fact one young lady has had quite a run on the cards, though I think her luck may have just ran out." Georgina said, watching the smile disappear from her cherubic face. "You will both go along to your cabin, change into your nightdresses and await your punishments."
"But, aunt, Amelia had no part in this." Said Emma trying to save her companion.
"No part in stopping you!" Georgina interrupted her niece. "Amelia is supposed to be the sensible one of the two of you. The wiser and elder one, I'm going to make sure that this behaviour of yours does not recur. In future Amelia will know after today to be a more judicious influence on you."
The two girls headed back to their cabin in silence. Both girls changed into their long nightdresses, both knowing that no underwear would be needed for what was coming their way.
Emma knew too well the wrath of Georgina, and how hard a spanking she could deliver. Could deliver, that thought cheered her slightly, this would be a weak and ill Georgina giving them their chastisements.
The two girls sat in silence on their bunks, waiting.
The door opened and in walked Georgina with the steward that she had been talking to earlier, both girls gasped in horror as they saw him. "This is Robert," Said Georgina, still toying with the pink hankie. "I explained my predicament to the captain, that I had two stupid young girls in need of a good spanking, and that I was too under the weather to deliver a suitably harsh punishment. So I asked if I could borrow his fine young steward, he agreed with a certain amount of reluctance. Though I must say Robert took no persuading at all."
Georgina took in the looks on the girls faces, her spoilt niece, and her uppity companion, both already close to tears. She was going to enjoy this afternoon, and if Robert was half the man that he looked to be, this evening also. "I know that some men are sometimes, should we say, overly gentle with the fairer sex. So I brought this along," Georgina continued lifting up her hankie and giving it a little wave, "as way of a guide. He is under instruction to spank your bare bottoms till they are the colour of this silk. He is to ignore any protestations or tears till this colour is achieved."
"Aunt you cannot do this, it.. it is just not decent. What would mummy say?" Pleaded Emma already close to tears.
"I care not a jot," Replied the now angry Georgina. "I am in loco parentis, and till we reach Cadiz and part company I will decide what is decent. Robert is a married man, and no stranger to the shape of a woman. Is that not right Robert."
"That's right, ma'am." The up until now silent steward replied.
"Emma, stand over there." Georgina told her defeated a niece. "Watch carefully as the punishment you brought about lands on your companion."
As Emma moved across the cabin, Amelia sat resigned to her fate, it would seem that having a hot bottom is almost part of working for this family.
The steward sat on the bunk opposite her, a large grin on his face as he patted his lap. On jelly knees she rose from her bunk, and draped herself over his hard muscular thighs.
"Well let the dog see the rabbit." Said the steward as he leaned over to lift Amelia's nightdress.
"No, allow me." Interrupted Georgina, as she lifted the nightdress high up Amelia's back, all the time keeping eye contact with her dashing steward.
Looking down at the pale buttocks, the steward remarked. "I'm going to have my work cut out here, ma'am, she is pale like china."
"But not delicate like china," Georgina reminded him, "and I'm more than sure those big hands of yours will manage well enough."
Manage they did, his hand came down in staccato onto her pale cheeks, following no real pattern, sometimes one cheek would be treated to five or six blows in a row, then the other only one or two. Amelia bit at her lip trying to keep her cries down, not wanting anyone going past the cabin door to know what was taking place.
"So, ma'am what brings three such fine ladies to Cadiz?" Asked the steward, not breaking his onslaught on Amelia's bottom.
Georgina was almost taken aback, that he would wish to idly chat when carrying out such a task. "These two foolish girls are off on a trip of Europe. Myself, I am here on business, I have to go to Jerez to sort out some sherry import licences."
"Ah fino, I prefer a good red Rioja." He replied, giving Amelia another stinging barrage, causing her to wriggle even more on his lap.
Emma was agog watching the spanking, even though she knew she would be next she was still fascinated by her friends wriggling antics. Each flail of her legs was giving Emma a fleeting view of Amelia's coral lips. Amelia though was far from fascinated, this was much worse than any of the butler's spankings, and with no hope of the release afterwards. The heat in her bottom was so intense, with no sign of the steward letting up, the cabin floor she could see now only through a fog of tears.

"Well, ma'am I think this ones done. Well heated she is." The steward said, as if referring to a pie in the oven.
Georgina moved to his side, the fingers on her left hand trailing through his thick brown hair, as she leaned forward with the silk in her right hand, resting in on the cleft of Amelia's buttocks. "A perfect match, Robert, well done." Said Georgina as she eyed her niece. "Don't you think so Emma?"
Emma was now not so happy about the situation, the time for her turn was here.
"I SAID DON'T YOU THINK SO?" Georgina repeated.
"Y.. y.. yes, aunt, if you say so. Please, I promise I'll......" Emma stuttered out.
"Silence, girl, you know what is coming so just accept it." Georgina said cutting off any further pleading. "Amelia, get up and change places with Emma, and mark my words girl you had better keep that nightdress high up. I want to be able to see Robert's handiwork."
The tearful girl arose from the stewards lap, holding her night dress high knowing too well that her pudenda would be on display to both Georgina and the steward.
Georgina smiled looking at Amelia's lush pubic covering, that should gee Robert up a little more. By the time the steward left this cabin he would be needing release, and Georgina planned to be the one to give him it. The girls traded places. As Georgina lifted Emma's nightdress clear, the girl burst into a flood of tears before the stewards hand had even fallen onto her bottom. As Amelia's eyes started to clear, she could see Emma doing the same horizontal dance that she herself had done over the stewards lap just moments earlier.
As when watching Rosy's spanking just a few days ago she felt the same strange feeling in her stomach. The room, and no doubt the whole deck was ringing with Emma's cries, as the steward did Georgina's bidding. Bringing the colour to Emma's cheeks though was a much longer and harder job. Emma's chubby bottom was darker skinned than Amelia's and so did not colour to red quite as easily, or quickly.
Eventually Georgina was satisfied that they had a match for her silk, and Emma too was now standing, nightdress up and her black forest of pubic hair on clear display.
"Right, girls," Georgina told her two repentant charges, "you will both now go to bed, and stay there till tomorrow morning. You have both been punished like little girls, and now you are going to be treated like little girls. Robert, I believe you said that you like Rioja, by way of appreciation from the three of us I would like you to join me in my cabin a little later and we can share a bottle, if that is all right with you?"
Robert didn't have to be asked twice, and he nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, ma'am, that would be fine, fine indeed."
Robert and Georgina left the two girls, Emma still in floods of tears flopped onto her bunk.
"Please, Amelia, comfort me." She pleaded to her friend.
Amelia lay down by her friend, the smallness of the bunk forcing the two girls close together. Without thinking Amelia started to rub Emma's bottom for her.
"Thank you, Amelia, I don't really deserve your friendship, if it wasn't for my foolishness we wouldn't be in this situation."
Without thinking Amelia silenced Emma with a kiss to her lips, then another longer lingering kiss. Amelia felt Emma's hand go to her hand, she redirected it from her bottom to place it at the mouth of her sex. They continued kissing, the innocent girl of five weeks ago seemed to Amelia to have been another life, as she fetched Emma. Then as a manner of payback Emma fetched Amelia with her tongue on Amelia's rosebud clitoris.
Around the same time, in the opposite cabin, Georgina found that Roberts attentions were a more than adequate cure for sea sickness!

Sunday, 10 October 2010

'Amelia's Victorian Adventure'-Part 1,Amelia Makes A Birch Rod!

A story by Tomas.

As the carriage pulled up outside the country house high up in the Chiltern Hills, the noise of the wheels and the horses hooves, alerted Rosy that the new tweeny had arrived.
Of course it was not normal practice for a junior maid to arrive by carriage, and at the front door. This though was not a regular new staff member, the occupant of the carriage was Amelia Cranforth, highly educated daughter of a vicar from a hamlet just outside of Didcot. Amelia had just taken the post of companion to Lady Wallingford's daughter Emma, the two of them were about to embark upon the Grand Tour of Europe. Lady Wallingford though, for reasons best known to herself, decided it would be a good idea for Amelia to work at her country house for a month before embarking on the trip. "It will give you a chance to see how a grand house works," she had told Amelia. "also first hand experience of the treatment of servants." In truth Amelia had not thought this necessary, but had given into her Ladyship's wishes, she had so much wanted this post. So here she was standing at the large oak front door to the house.

The door opened, and a chubby girl around about her own age stood there. "So you finally got here, we have better things to be doing at the moment than hanging around at a maids beck and call."

Amelia was taken aback by the rude greeting from this ignorant teen, she was just about to speak, when the girl continued.

"I take it you are, Amy?"

"Amelia actually." She replied curtly.

"Actually," the girl said, mimicking Amelia's accent, "I'm called Rosemarie, but I still get called Rosy. So grab your bags, Amy, and follow me. We are room sharing."

Dumbfounded, Amy picked up her two carpet bags, and tried to keep up with the rushing maid, as she led the way. First downstairs to the kitchen, then up the steep backstairs to the attic space and the staff quarters. Finally, Amy well out of breath reached their room.

"That's your bed over there," Rosy said pointing to the bed tucked under the eaves of the roof, "your uniforms are on top of it."

Amy was struggling to catch her breath, and also take everything in.

"You'd best get changed sharpish, Mr Harrison wants to see you as soon as possible, and he is a stickler for uniforms."

Amy waited for Rosy to leave, but she just stood there waiting.

"Come along, we haven't got all day."

Amy then realised that the girl had no intention of leaving her in privacy. Looking at the clothing on the bed, she soon saw it was indeed a full uniform, right down to the underwear.

Slowly Amy started to strip off her own clothing, all the while Rosy was standing in the doorway her left foot tapping in impatience. At last Amy was down to her shift, and light blue drawers. She picked up white blouse, and was about to out it on when Rosy interjected again.

"What you doing girl? All your uniform is there, and you is supposed to wear all the uniform, nothing else, just the uniform."

Now blushing at being called a girl by someone her own age, and having to strip naked in front of this ignorant trollop, she could feel her eyes edging with tears.

"By you have some figure don't you," Rosy said as Amy finally stood naked in the cold attic room, the chill making her pink nipples grow and harden, "old Harrison will have some fun with you, there's no doubt about that. He'll soon find some reason to have you over his knee, skirts up and drawers open so he can slap those pale arse cheeks red."

"What?" Amy shouted out in anger at the girls cheek.

"This house is run as a tight ship," Rosy said grinning at Amy, "Lady Wallingford is a big believer in old fashioned discipline, and for the most part it's Mr Harrison the butler who carries it out."

Of course Amy had heard of such things, maids being spanked and caned by their employees, even mill workers feeling the strap across their backsides for slacking and lateness.

Of course it could be that the house was run on this basis, but those rules would not apply to her. The likes of little strumpets like Rosy may need to be taken in hand to keep her in check, but she knew she was a special case. Which in fact was part true, Lady Wallingford had taken her butler to one side to have a word with him, the words would have made Amy's blood freeze. "Harrison we have a miss Amelia Cranforth coming to join us, she is a well bred, and well educated daughter of the clergy," her ladyship started telling him. The butler listened intently to his beautiful, but very formidable employer. Since being widowed five years ago at the age of thirty six, her ladyship had run her houses, and businesses with a rod of iron. "as such," she continued, "the girl seems to have ideas above her station. She will be going as a lady's companion to Emma, but I don't want this nineteen year old somehow thinking that she rules the roost. I want her to learn her station, and learn it well. You, Harrison, will be her teacher, use any means that you deem fit to get the message across to her that she is an employee, and nothing more. Can I trust you on this issue?"

The butler smiled and nodded, then spoke. "A pretty thing is she Ma'am?"

"Yes I suppose some would say so, light brown hair almost blond, blue eyes, fair skinned but prone to blushing. Not that her looks should really come into it."

Though they both knew that looks did come into it. Under Harrison, the houses ran like clockwork, and her ladyship allowed him maybe a little bit to much leeway in the disciplining and treatment of staff. It was however of a mutual benefit, she got away with paying him under the odds for someone of his experience, and he got to live out his sexual fantasies.

They both knew it, though it was a tacit agreement. So Amy's fate was sealed. Unaware, Amy continued putting on her uniform with help from Rosy. She didn't like her uniform, in truth she found it all a little beneath her, but if this is what she has to do to get a chance of a lifetime job than so be it. First she put on the cream drawers, then the very short white shift, which was little more than a vest, then the calf length black woollen stockings. Soon she was in her long black skirt that finished just above the ankles, then the white blouse.

"Blues are for Sundays." Rosy had informed her.

Rosy then helped Amy tie back her hair before placing the little black cap on her head. Finally came the four and a half inch thick leather belt.

"Surely this hampers you when you are working?" Asked Amy.

"Hee-hee, a little I suppose it does, but it has it's practical purposes," Rosy replied mysteriously, "right I think you are ready to see Mr Harrison."

Amy followed Rosy back downstairs through the rabbit warren of corridors to the butlers pantry. Mr Harrison was not what Amy had been expecting, around about her fathers age fiftyish or so. Very tall, and quite broad shouldered, hair thinning and going a little grey around the temples. It was his demeanour that surprised her the most, he was very friendly, and welcoming, though he did point out that he liked to run a tight but happy ship. Amy was briefed of her duties, and also made aware that they getting the house ready for a big party at the weekend to mark the end of the London season.

The next two days went well enough for Amy, Rosy and her formed an odd friendship, and started to get on really well. The work was hard, but no harder than she was already used to, having to keep the vicarage in good order. For the butler Mr. Harrison this was proving to be frustrating on two counts. The fact that he wanted to get his hands on the pretty nineteen year old. Also the fact that her ladyship had more or less ordered him to. Mr Harrison though was many things, but he always looked upon himself as fair, and could not bring himself to punish a girl for no reason. Then on the third day things finally started to look up for him, if not for Amy.

Amy was given the task of cleaning the dining room, whilst her new friend Rosy was to do the main hallway. As always Amy attacked the job with great gusto, she found that working this way made the day's go quickly, and tired her out for the boring night times so sleep would come easy to her. After two hours of dusting and polishing, she decided the room was finished, and ready for inspection. Then she noticed it, high above the fire mantle was a little vase on a small wooden shelf. As the sunlight streamed in from the large east facing bay window, she saw it, the long gossamer strand of a spiders web. She thought to get the small stepladders from Rosy, then decided that standing on the fireplace hearth, her long cane duster would just about reach it. Standing on the hearth, almost up on points she swished at the silken thread, then the door opened catching her by surprise, she stumbled and caught the vase with her duster. She held her breath as she saw it shake, then fall crashing onto the top of the marble fireplace sending shards of china across the floor.

"Good grief girl, what on earth is going on in here?" Mr Harrison's voice boomed out, as he stood halfway through the doorway.

"It... it was an accident, sir, I slipped... the door opening took me by surprise." Amy stammered.

Quickly realising that his chance had finally come, Mr Harrison spoke. "So now it is my fault that you have broken a valuable and treasured heirloom. Is that what you are trying to tell me girl?"

Amy now close to tears was lost for words, she merely shook her head, trying to avoid eye contact with the raging butler.

Now how to play this hand wondered the butler, in normal circumstances the breaking of a worthless vase, would only earn a maid a quick skirts up over the knee spanking to teach them not to be so clumsy. Amy though was not a normal maid, and another chance to carry out her ladyship's instructions might not come again.

"This kind of thing can not go unpunished," he said watching the girl's already pale face drain of all colour, "laziness will not be tolerated in this house."

"Laziness! I'm never lazy." Replied Amy, with a ring of indignity in her voice.

"So you want to add lying to your string of offences do you?" Said the butler raising his hand to silence any further interruption. "All you needed to do was go out into the hall and borrow the steps from Rosy, but you chose the easy path. Then you show yourself to be a clumsy buffoon, and have the nerve to try to blame me. This calls for serious punishment, very serious punishment."

Now realising what the butler was leading to Amy found her voice. "If you speak to her ladyship, Mr Harrison, you will find that I am not a common maid, and not under your discipline regime."

The butler managed to stifle his smile, and in those few moments decided exactly what he had in store for this haughty little maid. "I was told by her ladyship that you were to be treated no different to the other staff in my charge. If however you wish to go and see her ladyship for yourself you are more than welcome to. You can tell her that you don't want to be punished for your indolence, and your clumsiness. Also you can then tell her that you have broken an ornament of particular sentimental value to her." He looked at the defeated girl in front of him. "If, however, you wish to get this over with this afternoon, you will clean up the mess you have made, then go out into the grounds and fashion yourself a birch rod, and report to my pantry in an hours time."

Amy stood dumbstruck, a solitary tear running down her left cheek, what could she do? "Yes, Mr Harrison." She mumbled.

No sooner had the butler left the room than Rosy burst in. "I heard it all," she said to the now crying Amy. " a birching! I can't believe he is going to give you a birching!"

Still in a daze of what had befallen her Amy could only mange to say. "I... I don't know how to make a rod, do you?"

"Well sort of, I've never made one. Worst I've had has been the strap across me arse, but I've seen them made. He likes a long one, twigs and cuttings about a yard long, well just short of a yard, fourteen or fifteen twigs should do it. Make it like a bouquet, but tightly bound with twine at one end. A birching!"

Amy stood, her hand over her mouth, shaking her head, too stunned to talk.

"Tell you what," said Rosy. "I'll finish off in here, so you can get on with it, lordy you don't want to be late."

Amy wandered around the grounds picking up sticks that she thought were suitable, only to aware that all the staff knew what, and why she was out there for. Sitting at a bench at the far end of the grand lawn she started to bind the twigs. Her mind wandered, she was not that naive to not know that the birch is always given on the bare skin. The thought of him lifting her skirts, and opening up her drawers made her feel sick. Well not sickness, more butterflies in her stomach and chest. How would he birch her? Her mind was now running away with her, would he call all the staff to the dining room to make an example of her, a public thrashing to serve as a warning to others. Her there bent across the dining table, her bare bottom there for all to see, maids, cooks, and stable boys. The butterflies flapped even more. She snapped back to reality, such things were only in the dirty books that some of the girls would sneak into school, and read by candle night late at night. It can't be that bad she thought to herself, she was no stranger when younger to her father's belt, and the mistresses cane at school. A few bound twigs would be no worse. The worst part would be having to expose her skin to him, but by all accounts he is no stranger to a girls anatomy. Standing, the rod now finished, she gave it a quick swish through the air. Unlike a cane there was no real sound, just a gentle hissing noise . No it can't be that bad she decided, heading back to the house, and the waiting Mr Harrison.

She entered the the door to the kitchen, red faced seeing the knowing grins on the two young scullery maids, as she walked past them birch in hand. She then headed down the long basement passageway to the butler's pantry. Some butler's pantries are little more than a large storage cupboard. Not Mr Harrison's though, his was a pantry fitting someone held in such high esteem by her ladyship, and her late husband before her. It was in fact four rooms, the actual pantry itself was a large room, half office, and half storeroom for some of the more expensive, and exotic herbs and spices, deemed not suitable for leaving in the kitchen. Also along the same corridor was Harrison's small cosy living room, and his bedroom, and privy. No draughty attic space, and shared bathroom for this butler. Reaching the pantry Amy tapped the door, though wishing to run in the other direction she forced herself to stay still, though could not still her trembling knees or butterflies.

"Ah Amy, early as it happens," said the beaming butler as if she was popping in for tea and cakes. "I'll just go and bolt this door, I'm sure you would prefer no one walking in on us?"

Amy could only manage a nod, as the butler walked down the passage and closed over the large oak door, effectively closing of all four rooms from intrusion. As he came back towards Amy he held out his hand, Amy shook herself back into reality as she handed him the rod. "Mmm." He said thoughtfully. "This your first rod girl."

"Y y yes... yes, sir" She struggled out.

"Well you seem to have made a fine job of it, we will find out soon enough." He said motioning the girl into the room. On entering the room he went to a large stone jar of brine, and placed the rod into the salty liquid. He always liked to use the brine jar, it had a threefold effect. It added weight to the rod, and the salt water acted as both a cleaning agent to any cuts, and also an irritant. "Well, whilst we are letting the rod soak, we may as well get you prepared." Still talking in his now annoying to Amy, jovial fashion.

Sitting on a small milking stool he motioned Amy over to his side. Amy gulped as his hands went to the hem of her skirt, even though she knew it was coming. She felt her face start to burn up as he lifted it higher, then started to tuck it into the top of her belt. "it has it's practical purposes." She remembered Rosy saying about the belt, so this is what she meant.

Soon enough her skirt was tucked all the way in, her drawers front back and sides all now on display. What happened next shocked Amy beyond words. His fingers went to the bow of her drawstring, he meant not to just open her drawers to denude her posterior, he meant to lower them completely.

"Mr Harrison... you can't... you just can't!" She cried out.

"I'm not going to run the risk of damaging her ladyships property, I'm afraid these will have to come off." And no sooner had he said it than the cream underwear was around her ankles.

Quickly her hands descended to shield her modesty.

"Hands on your head, girl, this is neither the time nor the place for coyness." he said, now a harshness to his voice as he slapped her hands and the front of her thighs.

What could she do but submit?

The view now in front of Harrison's face was very much to his liking. A lush covering of dark pubic hair, it always amazed Harrison how pubic hair is nearly always so much darker than head hair, a lack of sun he had long since decided. It was almost his favourite part of the proceedings, baring the subject, the revealing of mysteries. It always got his sap rising, and today was no different. "Right young lady we will have you across that table," he said pointing to the small roughly hewn wooden dining table. "right over, bare bottom up, and grab the far sides with your hands, tight grip mind you." Amy flinched at the reminder of her nakedness, she shuffled to the table and did his bid, grabbing the edge of the table as hard as she could. Harrison picked the rod from the stone jar, and gave it a little shake to rid it of the excess salty water. "A bakers dozen, young lady, that should rid you of your indolence."

Amy closed her eyes tight as he announced her fate, thirteen strokes! Without warning the first one fell, a gentle almost inaudible swish in the air before it made contact with her bare skin. The pain was incredible, how could something so ineffective looking be so harsh. To Amy it felt like a hundred bee stings, she felt the whole area of her bottom was on fire.

Then the second fell, as she was still adjusting to the feel of the first. The second stroke sent bits of twig flying all over the stone floor. "Ah, miss, it looks like you will have some sweeping to do when we finish here, too many old twigs by the looks of things." As always Harrison followed a distinct pattern with a birching. Not so much a pattern really, more a strategy. The first blow, medium strength, not brutal but hard enough so the girl knows what is coming her way. The second stroke, quickly after the first, and also the hardest he is going to give, hopefully as in this case to break some of the twigs. The following strokes all medium, or even light depending on the girls reactions, after all he was not a cruel man.

Few girls make it past the sixth stroke, only two have so far managed to take all thirteen before breaking down, and asking for some sort of mercy. Mercy at a price of course.

He could seem Amy was already in distress, not as hardy as some of the girls from the local farms perhaps? He would soon find out as the third stroke was always very telling. The stroke landed, and Amy could not believe the pain it generated, she screamed out in pain as the now shorter twigs found places hitherto untouched. The tips scraping into the cleft of her bottom, a couple even making contact with the folds of her virgin sex. Through watery eyes she could see her knuckles turning white, as she held on to the edge of the table.

Ten more to go, the thought was unbearable for her, but bear it she must. Harrison rotated the birch in his hands, to cut back the effect of the short twigs, only one such blow was ever really required for his purpose. The fourth blow fell.

"Please no more... please... no more." Amy called between sobs.

"Nearly at the halfway mark, girl, you are doing well." He replied knowing full well she was near her breaking point, it was all to him a well rehearsed act. At some point, he thought to himself, some girl is going to point out that thirteen has no halfway mark, but as of yet no one had. Could this be the final stroke he wondered, looking down at her red buttocks that were only a few minutes ago alabaster pale. The stroke fell.

"Please stop... I beg you anything... but not more of this?... Please?"


"Yes please stop, you are tearing me apart."

Not quite correct he thought to himself, but that must be how it would feel to her, as usual the strategy has worked. Throwing the now redundant birch to one side, he positioned himself behind the girl and nudged her legs a little wider apart. His fingers trailed down the cleft of her bottom, then under reaching at her fleshy purse.

"Mr Harrison! What are you doing?" cried out the indignant Amy, as she flew upright from the table, her rage temporarily screening out her pain.

He grabbed her quickly around the waist in case she tried to bolt for the door, nuzzling his mouth close to her ear, he whispered. "But, Amy, you said anything."

"I... I know, but I'm a good girl... I don't......." Her voice trailed of as the butterflies came back.

"A good girl?" He said, still whispering in an almost seductive tone. "Do good girls have to go into the garden to cut themselves a birch rod? Do good girls find themselves across my table, their underwear around their ankles?"

Amy felt like she was about to faint, her whole body seemed to be shaking from the inside out.

"Do good girls have to lie here, their bare bottoms waiting for the birch?" His left hand now on the bare flesh of her belly, his fingers gently, oh so gently stroking the mass of thick dark pubic hair. "But I know what you mean," he continued in the same seductive tone. "you are a maiden, and want to stay that way till your wedding night, am I right?"

Lost now for words Amy just nodded.

"Can you trust me, Amy, will you trust me, Amy?" His fingers now parting the the folds at the front of her quim, finding the little ridge of hard flesh. The same ridge of flesh that she would often awaken from her sleep to find her own fingers dallying on, her nightdress bunched up around her hips. When this happened she always felt self loathing for days after, but this was somehow different, this felt more right. "Will you trust me, Amy?" He repeated, and she nodded, the butterflies were now the size of bats. "Bend back across the table for me." He whispered.

"Wha... but.. but?" Moaned the confused girl.

"Don't worry, the birch has gone." He said to appease her.

In a daze she bent back over.

He went to one of the shelves and quickly found the jar he was looking for. Unscrewing the top off the jar he plunged his left hand deep into the olive oil. Returning to the waiting maiden, out of sight of her he lowered his britches and coated he rock hard member. His right hand went back down under her, and recommenced it's earlier ministrations. The left hand went to her buttocks and started to coat her cleft and the bud of he anus. Through the daze of mixed emotions and carnal needs, she knew what was about to happen. The girls at school had told her of such things. One day while reading Childe Harold's Pilgrimage a couple of the girls teased her about why Byron had to leave the country.

"He had been doing IT with his wife, but up her bottom!" At the time she didn't believe such a thing could happen. Now she knew different, and as Harrisons fingers worked at her she didn't care, as wave after wave of butterflies seemed to attack her. She even reached back to gingerly part her still painful cheeks, though now the pain seemed to be somehow lost in other sensations. Then his probing finger was replaced by something thicker, something more yielding yet still firm. So this was what a males member feels like she thought, as it slowly gained more ground inside her. It hurt, but in a different way, in an almost pleasant way. As his fingers continued working at her quim, she felt as if she was about to explode.

Then he started to move within her, pumping back and forth against her, his thighs banging into her bruised punished bottom. Each stroke by him forcing her sex hard against his ever busy fingers. Then all the butterflies seemed to rush in one huge wave, she closed her eyes tight, bringing her right hand around to her mouth to stifle her her cries. Cries this time not of pain, she bit down onto her index finger so as not to shout out aloud. Through the fog of her orgasmic rush she heard Harrison gasp out, then felt the hardness in her bottom start to dissipate, she knew he was spent, as she started to come down from her peak. He withdrew from her, and quickly did up his britches.

"Right, my girl," he said to the still girl across the table, "you have some sweeping to do before you go. I think though your skirt can stay up till you are finished, what say you?"

Silently Amy nodded.

Harrison sat back in his armchair watching the half naked Amy tidying up the pantry, and wondered to himself if this is what her ladyship had had in mind.