Caroline awoke after a fitful nights sleep; she lay there for a few moments deciding. She had to decide whether to go to work or not, and if she was to go, what to wear?
Skirt or trousers, tights or stockings, flat shoes or heels. She wished now that the call centre had some form of uniform. Even just a dress code, but they haven't so she will have to decide on her own, as she was this morning alone in her flat. She had made excuses to her boyfriend to put him off coming around to her flat last night. Some nights you just need to be alone, and after yesterday's news at work, last night was one of those days. When the new company motivational plans were first put in place, she wasn't in the least bit bothered. She was one of the stars of the sales floor; her lead-to-sale conversion rate was the third highest in the call centre. Sales Planning And New Kinesis Scheme, they all laughed when they read the title of the memo.
"It's called SPANKS, and no one can understand what it means?" Caroline said to the floor manager.
"Ah, you mean the kinesis bit?" He replied with a large grin. "Kinesis is the reacting to external stimulus. You're right though, it does spell out spanks, and that is roughly what the stimulus will be... you know, to egg on the lower sellers on the sales team."
Caroline laughed at the notion of spankings for poor sales figures, not a bad idea she thought to herself though totally impractical.
As the full details of the new scheme came out it caused much consternation among the staff. Cutbacks from the parent company in Singapore were being proposed. Anyone who didn't want to take up the new contracts, and enlist to the SPANKS bonus plan could be moved out to the nonsales side of the business. In some cases, they would just let go of in new job restructuring. It was a complicated document full of "legalese", the gist of it was that the highest closers of leads got a new improved bonus. The lowest received corporal punishment in front of their peers, as a way of warning to them to buck up their ideas, and also a reminder to the others to keep on selling. Of course, if there were one hundred percent hitting of all targets, there would be no need for any corporal punishment and an enhanced group bonus would be paid to all sales staff.
All the staff took the whole thing as a joke; it could not be legal could it?
Well, with good enough lawyers, and complicated enough confidentiality waivers written into contracts almost anything is legal.
There would be no point to it would there?
The parent company had operated similar schemes in the Far East, and had proven to be a huge success in both raising sales, and improving team morale.
Would It only have an impact on the same few people each month?
Yes, that would be correct, and that was the mistake that the English office made, at least for the first six months anyway.
For Caroline the first six months were excellent, she was getting better than ever bonuses partly due to the amount of staff that left when the company brought in the SPANKS contracts.
The new team that came in were keen but inexperienced so they came nowhere near her figures. As for the CP side of the contracts, Caroline looked upon it as an entertaining diversion to bring the month to the end. It was carried out in an almost clinical way; there were three designated executors of the punishments, all female. It had been rumoured amongst the staff that the company preferred to use women in this role to avoid any form of sexual harassment charges being raised against them.
Also as the majority of the sales team were women, of the hundred, working on the sales floor only sixteen were male. The talk in the canteen was all about how did they get the training, did they have to practise on each other?
It had even been mooted that the company had hired people in for them to practise on. Either way, trained they were, and they were raring to go on the last working day of the first month.
All that day there was a palpable tension in the air, a kind of excitement at what was to come. Caroline thought this must be similar to how Rome must have felt on the first day of "The Games". Everyone was waiting for another's humiliating downfall.
Then four forty finally came along, for the first month there were two victims, both had only reached sixty percent of their target. Against all odds, it was one female, and one male. The girl Caroline did not know; she had seen her about the offices, but they had never spoken. A little bit inside Caroline was disappointed that it what not someone she knew well. Don't judge her too harshly though, because we all have that hint of schadenfreude in our personality, no matter how hard we try to hide it.
The male, now that made her smile broadly, Jack Danvers she knew only too well, Jack-the-lad as he liked to be called. Jack was the self appointed male chauvinist pig, no doubt there would be more than a few of the girls looking forward to seeing him get a whacking. Caroline made sure that she had cleared her desk early, so she could get a good front seat.
The office building had a large conference room; that had been slightly modified, a small, two foot high podium with a school type desk placed on it at the front of the room. Small rigs of lamps had been fitted onto the ceiling to flood the podium with white light. The purpose of this was twofold; it gave the audience a better view of events; it also made it hard for the victims to see their audience. The audience was seated in seven rows, arranged in a semi-circle and fanning outwards from the podium. (The following months the seats were numbered, and allocated in order of sales results, of course, Caroline still got a front seat.)
The show started; Jane Murray took to the stage and thanked everyone for being there. She praised the efforts of her sales teams; she knew they were going through tough times, money was scarce, but they had all, well almost all, pulled through. Then her mood seemed to change, as she said.
"I'm sorry to say though; we didn't hit our hundred percent target. I know there are a few people sitting in front of me now who didn't come close to it. Some who only managed sixty-five percent, it's to those people that what follows next should be taken as a firm warning of what might be to come. You people who are only sitting on sixty- five or seventy percent ratios should realise; that should things stay the same for you, while the ones around you increase their sales that it is one stroke of the paddle for each five percent under performance."
There was an audible intake of breath from the whole room, they all knew that the ones being punished had only made sixty percent. A ripple of whispers then went through the room, each whisper said, "that's eight strokes!" Jane then stepped down from the podium. Then in what could only be called a step into the over theatrical, the executor then took to the stage, complete with a white face mask, the type so common in old Venetian masked balls.
The mask was supposed to ensure her anonymity, but everyone knew it was Claire, as the other two appointed punishers were sitting amongst the audience, but it all added to the drama. It was the first time that Caroline had had a chance to see the paddle. To her mind, it looked pretty innocuous, it seemed, at first glance be constructed of transparent plastic. She was later to find that the material was Lexan.
No one in the audience was aware of the fact that a few implements had been mooted, and even tested, before this paddle was chosen as the ideal adjustment tool. In the Far East, almost without exception, the cane was the chosen method of correction. But the lawyers had decided that due to the propensity of canes breaking the skin, to avoid any lawsuits it was decided to use other methods in the Western countries. After a great deal of product testing, the three punishers decided that the Lexan paddle was the quickest, and most effective way to bring the required heat to the seat.
"Miss Maureen Corrigan, please," spoke the ridiculously masked Claire, "you shall be first."
Then the red-faced girl came out of the shadows and stepped up onto the podium. Caroline could feel her heartbeat rate rise, and her hands started to get sticky and sweaty in excitement. All the audience had been informed of what would take place, but few had believed it.
Claire approached the girl, who was now visibly shaking. This Corrigan girl towered over the five foot two Claire; she must have been approaching the six foot mark, her slim build making her seem even taller. Claire was whispering into her ear as she had to bend down to hear her instructions. The girl nodded; her face now gone from red to ashen as her visibly trembling fingers tried to undo her jeans. Again Claire whispered something, and again the girl nodded.
Claire then put down the paddle and undid Maureen's jeans for her, lowering them well past her knees. She then lifted the poor girl's t-shirt high up her back, revealing white ladybug patterned knickers. The t-shirt was then secured by tucking it into her bra strap.
Caroline swallowed hard in anticipation. Then Claire's fingers went to the waistband of Maureen's exposed underwear, the girl didn't know where to put herself, chewing on her bottom lip, staring at the ceiling. Soon enough her knickers to were around her knees, giving all in the room a perfect view of her surprisingly full pale buttocks. She quickly took her place over the desk, bent across resting on her elbows. From Caroline's prime seat, she had a view of the girl's bottom, and the hint of her underlying sex.
Claire then moved to the girls left and applied the first stroke. The paddle came down with a light popping sound, followed quickly by a scream of pain.
Claire then stood back and waited. A band of red started to emerge on the girls behind, a band of red with a couple of pale spots left by the air holes in the polycarbonate implement. Claire was in no hurry at all to finish her well practised display; she waited till Maureen's wriggling had entirely subsided before bringing down the second popping stroke. The second stroke to was also greeted with an audible shriek of pain, again Claire waited for the pain to seep through the girl's bottom before continuing.
By the fifth stroke, the room was full of the sound of the girl's sobs. Each stroke was now also eliciting a little bent over dance from Maureen as she tried to stamp the pain out from her bottom.
This lewd dance had forced her jeans and underwear down to her ankles. Also, as she wiggled and wriggled over the desk more than a peek of her dark pink labia was being afforded to all in the room.
Caroline now felt a heat growing in herself, a heat she could do nothing to quench. After landing the eighth stroke, Claire waited for the girl to calm herself, before again whispering to her victim. Claire then helped the girl to her feet and led her to the side of the desk. To all the audience's surprise she then placed her hands onto the top of her head and stood there, tearfully staring ahead into the darkness of the room. Now all the audience was given the front view of the girls, now, not so private privates.
"Jonathon Danvers, please step forward." Called out Claire.
Then on to the brightly lit podium stepped forward Jack-the-lad. Caroline smiled at Jack being given his Sunday name of Jonathon; this was the part of proceedings that she, and many others in the audience had been awaiting. Standing in the bright lights like a stunned rabbit, he didn't look half as cocky as normal. In a vain effort to speed up proceedings, he quickly undid his trousers, and pulled both them and his underwear down in one movement, and almost hurled himself over the desk.
Yes, Caroline thought as she caught a fleeting glimpse of his limp genitalia, not half so cocky as usual, she thought to herself.
Claire took up her place as before, Lexan paddle in hand, and brought it across his rather hairy arse. Unlike the earlier light popping noise, this blow gave off a solid thwack. Whether she harsher because he was male or because like almost every other female on the sales floor at some point she had received from him a remark about the size of her tits, arse or legs?
Caroline didn't know, what she did know, however, was that Claire was certainly hitting harder. As before she waited to let him savour the stroke before continuing any further. She followed the whole punishment like this, allowing each stroke to be savoured, before delivering the next one.
Caroline noticed the muscles of his hamstrings tightening and shaking as he tried to keep the position and not give away the amount of pain he was feeling.
Claire noticed his resilience, upon the sixth stroke he was still unmoved. So she changed tack a little, the seventh stroke she delivered with gusto to the top of his thighs. It worked as he called out in both pain and shock, a ripple of snigger's wafted around the audience; the eighth then fell almost straight after, giving him no time to prepare himself. Another scream of pain left his lungs. Claire then helped him to his feet, whispering her instructions to him.
Like Maureen before him, Jack moved to the side of the desk hands on the head, his eyes closed tight in pain and shame. All eyes were on his limp, tiny cock; Caroline felt a mixture of triumph and pity for him. She was one of the few people in the room to know that Jack's smallish state was mainly the result of nerves. Of course, over the next few days, as all the girls talked about Jack-the-lad being only an inch or two away from being Jane-the-girl, she did nothing to correct or enlighten them.
Jane Murray then returned to the stage and thanked the audience for their time. Wishing them all a good weekend, she reminded them to keep closing sales, or it could be them next month up there on the podium.
Then the main room light came on, and everyone filed out, leaving the half naked Jack and Maureen still standing on the podium.
Caroline thought back on the last six months, thought back on how she had enjoyed that afternoon, and all the others like them. Remembering how she used to think to herself, "I wonder how it feels up there?" In about eight hours time, she was about to find out.
Caroline knew she would have to get up and go to work, much as she would rather stay in bed and have a "duvet day". She pulled back the bed covers and padded naked along to her bathroom, the cold water of the shower waking her completely. Yes, it was not all some bad dream, she was going to have to step up onto the podium this afternoon and accept a bare bottomed paddling in front of all her workmates. Worst of all she couldn't work out why, as last month like all the prior six months, she had hit all her sales targets.
"Why did they have to change it?" she muttered to herself, as she patted her bare legs dry with a towel.
What Caroline did not know was that the whole S.P.A.N.K.S initiative had been implemented incorrectly from the start by the British office. The idea of it was to build a better team understanding and moral. In previous places where S.P.A.N.K.S had been put into place, they had all shown a marked increase in team performance, but not so in Britain.
One of the young executives from head office was flown over to see exactly what the problems in England were. At twenty-four years of age, Laila Toi was, like Caroline, a rising star in the company but at a much, much, higher level.
When Laila flew into England, Jane Murray was rather perplexed that instead of going to her hotel, she had insisted on going straight to the office and getting down to work. Not a good sign when your jet-lagged boss decides that she can't wait another day to get started. Obviously this was not just going to be a quick look around, followed by a nice dinner type of meeting.
Jane, the forty-five-year-old head of the British office was rightly worried about Ms.Toi's arrival. She had phoned her the day before, and had requested all paperwork and emails reference the S.P.A.N.K.S program to be available for her, and she made it clear that she wanted all of it. Jane met Laila at the reception area, and asked if she would like to have coffee before adjourning to her office, and which of the management team she would like to have in on the meeting.
"No. Get coffee sent to the room; I don't need to see any of your team this will be a one-on-one meeting." she replied brusquely. On getting into the office, Laila irked Jane further by taking the seat behind the desk. Jane's chair. "You have all paperwork I asked for?" demanded the small black haired girl.
Jane nodded, the rage in her growing at this fresh out of university chit of a girl, and handed her two large manila folders. One of the folders contained rather contentious photos taken at one of the punishment sessions. Taken without the girl's knowledge.
Laila put on a pair of reading glasses and started to work, silently. Jane watched as Laila seemed to read each paper a couple of times as she worked through the first file her face seemed to darken into a puzzled brood. The only thing she said, which only added to Jane's confusion was.
Then she opened the second folder, the one containing among other documentation the photos. If she had looked in a dark mood before, now she seemed to be raging. She laid back in Jane's chair, closed her eyes for about thirty seconds in deep concentration, then took three very deep breaths opened her eyes and started to speak.
"Somewhere this program has gone wrong," she said, her voice calm and even, "the idea is to form stronger teams, where the better sales staff drive along the not so good ones. The four teams compete against each other, as you would say in 'a friendly rivalry.' The losing team if they have not achieved one hundred percent of the target will risk a team member receiving corporal punishment."
Jane nodded, confident that was how she had implemented the program.
"The results are measured as a team effort; all sales are grouped together, and an average taken."
Again Jane nodded.
"The lowest scoring team, will then have a member picked from them at random. Who will be the one to as the Americans say, 'take one for the team,' irrespective of their personal sales."
Jane could feel her face flush.
"This system discourages the sales team members from sandbagging their results, by holding back leads back for the following month. It also encourages them to make every sale that they can each month. I would expect some of your top closers to be hitting one hundred and fifteen percent of their targets at least, more likely one hundred and thirty. None ever go more than one hundred and five."
Jane nodded realising her mistake.
"Take this girl, for example, she hit one hundred and three percent of her target last month. Already only a week and a half into this month she has reached forty-seven percent of her target, she is sandbagging, and she is in the bottom team. If she had hit even only an extra twenty percent, her team would have been second."
Jane looked at the sales listings and saw Caroline's name highlighted.
"Can you now understand how this system is supposed to work?"
Jane nodded and cleared her throat to speak, but was cut off as Laila continued her monologue.
"Also you seemed to have turned the punishments into some sideshow to entertain your staff. You used psychological profiling questionnaires to enlist your punishers. Do you know what happens when you do that?"
Jane shook her head.
"You end up with people with a certain mindset. Some people, both male and female have a... let's just say fascination with the giving and receiving of corporal punishment. That is why we always recommend that the senior management carries out the required chastisements. So bearing all this in mind, and the mad inclusion of photographic evidence of something that the company would like to remain 'in house'. I would recommend that you go and bring the paddle in from where ever it is kept."
"W... what... why do you need the paddle?" Jane finally managed to stutter out.
"So you can learn about corporal punishment first hand," Laila said flatly, "as from now on, if you want to keep your job. You will be the only one to administer the punishments. To give you the right motivation, and to teach you for this inept usage of a highly valued program, you will also have a taste of the punishment you will be administrating."
"You can't be serious!"
"Never more so, I suggest you give your PA an early finish as I imagine that you will want to keep this between the two of us?"
Jane rose from her seat and set off to retrieve the paddle, on her way she told Eileen, her PA to have the rest of the day off. If the walk down the corridor to get the paddle had seemed long, the walk back clutching the paddle in her hand felt longer. She couldn't believe that this was happening. In a couple of minutes time, a girl young enough to be her daughter was about to spank her bottom. She was going to have to bare her bottom, and bend over like a naughty schoolgirl while this young kid laid into her with a paddle.
When she re-entered her office, Laila had closed the blinds and was now standing in the middle of the room; her jacket removed and the sleeves on her blouse rolled up past her elbows. All sorts of things ran through Jane's mind; what knickers did she put on this morning, how is she going to explain the bruising when she gets home?
Will it hurt, but most of all why did she feel sexually excited by it?
She handed the paddle to Laila, half hoping it was all a bluff, half praying that it wasn't.
"Trousers and panties down, please." Laila said, confirming that it was no bluff.
Jane unzipped her trousers, and lowered them along with her knickers in one movement; then unbidden bent across her now cleared desk. If the idea of receiving corporal punishment excited her, the reality didn't. The first swat came down on her catching both of her bottom cheeks, but more so on the right-hand side. The initial impact stung, but not too badly. Then it seeped in; the heat seemed to spread slowly the pain gathering in intensity, and then just as it seemed to level out.
THWACK! The second blow landed. How many will there be? Jane wondered gritting her teeth, waiting for the burning to dissipate.
THWACK! Came the third.
"Good girl, Jane. You take this very well; we are halfway now."
So it will be six; Jane thought. Worse than the pain, was this slip of a thing calling her a "good girl". It was bad enough having her hitting her bare bottom, without her patronising words.
Laila then moved around to the other side of Jane for the final three strokes.
THWACK! The fourth one came down; Jane's eyes were now misting over; tears were not far away.
THWACK! The fifth landed, and Jane sobbed.
THWACK! The sixth was delivered, with added venom.
"So that is it, Jane, we expect you to implement the suitable," Laila said as the crying Jane struggled to pull up her underwear and trousers without further agitating her bruised behind. "I will be back in three months, and I expect a huge change in the sales turnover, and then perhaps the paddle will not be needed so often. For either you or your staff."
With Jane still trying to make herself, decent Laila left the office for her hotel and a well-earned sleep. Through still tear filled eyes Jane looked at last months sales figures, and at Caroline's highlighted name, her fate was now sealed.
Caroline looked at her naked reflection in the bathroom mirror. A body to be proud of she decided, not to skinny, curves in all the right places, but not running to fat. Her breasts full but not overly generous, hips wide, not quite an hourglass figure but not far off it.
Thanks to her boyfriend's liking of the natural look, she was sporting a full but unfashionable bush. She smiled, thinking to herself that the pubic hair would act as a pair of pseudo knickers, shielding her sex from view, least ways from the front anyway.
She knew only too well that once bent across the desk; she would be offering up a totally different visage. There was nothing she could do about that though. Last year the company did a sponsored obstacle course at the local pool, and Caroline felt quite comfortable changing with the other girls, all chatting together in various states of undress.
Today was going to be entirely different though. At the pool it was all girls together, today it will be just her, alone and exposed on the floodlit podium, bent over waiting for the paddle's kiss.
She shook her head slowly, still not grasping how this had come about.
"Just my luck." She muttered to herself.
Of course, luck had little to do with it. Once Jane saw the sales figures for Caroline's group and the paddling fresh in her mind, she decided that Caroline would be the first name to be "randomly" drawn.
Of course, only Jane, and Caroline's team leader knew this.
He had taken no persuading from Jane; the idea of Caroline bent over half naked in front of him quite appealed.
So that was it, her payroll number found itself magically generated from the other twenty-four of her team.
Dried off Caroline went back to her bedroom, now the big decision, what to wear.
She didn't want to look like she was sexing herself up.
Nor did she want to be onstage like a Miss Prim.
She needed to find a middle way, a plain dress, dark tights; that was easy.
The choosing of her underwear was not so simple.
Something not too sexy, but she didn't want to be standing there like Bridget Jones either.
Having finally decided, she started to get dressed, thinking all the time how Jane would later today be adjusting the clothing that she was now putting on.
Adjusting the clothing, to bare her bottom.
To bend her over the desk.
To paddle her upturned naked rear.
Caroline realised her fingers were shaking; her heartbeat rising.
A panic attack she thought to herself?
Already she was close to tears, and she hadn't even left for work.
The day at work for Caroline was a huge paradox, it seemed to both drag, and to fly by.
No-one seemed to want to engage in conversation with her, but everyone seemed to want to say
"hi how are you?"
Only to try to gauge what sort of reply they would get, to see how nervous this month's victim was.
She knew what they were doing; she had done it herself only too often; It's not gloating as such. More savouring the moment, bathing in someone else's fears and insecurities.
Today though; she was on the receiving end, and it felt so strange, she was the centre of attention, and....and to her shame she was partly enjoying it.
Well, enjoying it was hardly the right word, but she found that it made her feel somehow, special.
Still though she hoped for a poor attendance. But who was she kidding, there had never been a poor turnout since the scheme had started.
If Caroline felt like a cauldron of mixed emotions about today's coming events. Jane Murray wasn't; this afternoon had been penciled in on Jane's calendar since she received her paddling from Laila, the Malaysian martinet. Jane was well-focused on what she needed to do today, well focused and looking forward to it. Over the last three nights; she had been taken the paddle home with her, to practise on some pillows. The idea had even crossed her mind, if there had been a paddle in the house two years ago, she might still be married. If ever there was a relationship that could have done with some domestic discipline, it was that one, but it was all water under the bridge now.
Also, she had decided, for a bit of a laugh to fill out one of the discipline evaluation sheets that they had used to appoint their nominated paddlers. Not to her surprise she had scored very highly. The last six months had re-awakened long half forgotten teenage fantasies.
Yes, Jane was truly looking forward to this afternoon's punishment session, though, of course, it was never called that.
Motivational Session was the more politically correct title.
Finally, for both ladies the time arrived.
Caroline made her way to the room ten minutes before her audience would arrive, as pre-arranged with Jane.
Standing in the normally lit room behind the podium, looking at the little desk, the whole enormity of her situation hit her.
She was going to get spanked in front of her workmates.
She was most likely going to cry.
She was going to have her bare bottom and have her sex on show.
She was going to have to look these people in the eye and work with them all again next week.
Her knees started to shake; she wanted to run away, and then in walked Jane paddle in hand.
She wanted to cry already.
"OK Caroline," Jane said cheerfully. "I know you are familiar with the procedure."
Caroline nodded glumly; her throat and mouth now feeling too dry for her to speak.
"Of course you are, after all you have never missed a show." Jane said, her voice now dripping with sarcasm.
Then the double doors then flew open, and everyone started to file in, the podium floodlights came on, and the roof lights went out.
Jane took to the podium.
"As you are all aware the S.P.A.N.K.S criteria has been changed slightly to engender better team spirit, and today taking one, well actually eight for the team is Caroline, please step forward Caroline."
Somehow Caroline managed to find the strength within herself to step up on to the bright lit stage, her eyes squinting in the white light.
Prepared for any clothing eventuality, Jane stepped towards her, a roll of masking tape in her hand.
Jane slowly lifted the hem of Caroline's plain green woolen dress at the back, lifting it well clear of the top of her dark tights, and then taped it into position.
Wordlessly Jane turned Caroline around by pushing on her shoulders.
Then slowly again, ever so slowly she lifted the green dress from the front pulling it clear of her tights.
Then she taped the hem to the underside of Caroline's breasts, Jane's eyes locked unblinking on Caroline's.
Then turning her again, so Caroline was now facing her unseen audience, from behind Jane lowered Caroline's tights.
Once her dark tights were at her ankles, Jane's fingers went to the waistband of Caroline's plain mint green knickers.
Caroline struggled to catch her breath, as these too were lowered to her ankles.
Jane managed to stifle a smile as she saw the giveaway little marks on the inside of Caroline's underwear.
After what seemed like an age to Caroline, Jane finally whispered for her to bend over the desk.
With her whole body shaking in anticipation, Caroline got herself as comfortable as she could.
Then she felt the paddle nudging at the inside of her thighs, signaling for her to spread her legs a little wider.
She parted her feet as far as the bunched up clothing around her ankles would allow.
She felt a solitary tear roll down her cheek, at her shame.
Jane had already decided in her head how she was going to play this.
She wanted the maximum reaction in the minimum time, so the paddle came down hard for the first stroke fully across both cheeks.
Watching the white mark on Caroline's pale cheeks disappear, then waited for the redness to emerge, she knew now that the heat would be building.
Rather than letting it build then applying another stroke, she brought the paddle across Caroline again, but this time lower, at the underside of Caroline's bottom cheeks.
Caroline squawked out in both pain and surprise.
The third followed onto the top of the first, the fourth onto the second; Caroline was now sobbing hard at only the halfway mark.
Jane stepped back, not to give Caroline a rest, but to change sides and to let the heat build further.
Caroline was also busy trying to dance the pain out of her bottom. She was not aware of Jane moving, so the angle of the fifth stroke caught her by surprise, and no sooner than she had started to react to the new sensation when the sixth arrived at the lower part of her bottom.
Jane waited for Caroline's lurid little dance to stop, bent across the desk trammeling her feet to try and dissipate the heat, each movement bringing different views of her sex and anus to her mesmerised audience.
The final two strokes came down eliciting shrieks of pain from Caroline.
Jane bent over and whispered.
"Standup, turn around, hands on the top of your head, do not rub your arse, or we will start all over again."
Caroline struggled to her feet, the warning ringing in her ears, she turned to face her audience and placed her hands on the top of her head.
The main lights came on; her smiling workmates rose from their seats and filed out in silence.
Once the two of them were alone in the room, Jane put down the paddle and stood in front of Caroline, so close that Caroline could feel Jane's breath on her cheek.
"Next month I expect one hundred and twenty percent of the target from you."
Jane said, her left hand lazily playing with Carolines pubes.
"A bare minimum of one hundred and fifteen."
She continued, her finger now probing at Carolines crease.
"Or you will be getting a private paddling from me in my office."
Caroline pushed her hips against Jane's hand, wanting more contact.
Jane withdrew her hand.
"Now pull up your knickers and sort out your clothes."
Caroline was now on the verge of even more tears at this rejection from her boss.
"Then meet me in the car park."
Jane said stepping off the podium smiling broadly, leaving the half naked girl to try and make herself decent.
Laila, on her flight back to Singapore, realised that her uncle was right about not implementing the S.P.A.N.K.S. program in the western branches of the company.
She had allowed herself to be talked into it by Simon, one of her performance advisors. It was a decision that she was now regretting, and a decision that she knew she would be regretting even more later today.
Her uncle, the C.E.O. of the company, had requested that Laila came straight to the offices from the airport. This pattern seemed to be becoming part of her life at the moment, airport, office and then sleep. The constant travelling was starting to take it's toll on her humour, and making her fall into a deep, dark, foul mood.
Sleep on the flight had evaded her, as all she could think of was how much her department had lost face with this debacle at the British office. The consequences she tried not to think of, but the harder she tried, the more the thoughts came into her head.
She had to take action as soon as she got to the head office if she could prove to her uncle that she had things all under control, maybe he would not take matters further.
It was a slim hope, but it was her only real hope. Her uncle's concerns about the S.P.A.N.K.S. program had been threefold.
The litigious nature of the U.S.A. and British employment laws. The fear of the company being sued for either constructive dismissal or assault. Also, he had worried of the program coming under the eyes of the tabloid press, and the bad publicity that that would bring.
To Lailas' eyes though his most odd concern was that of the so called 'English vice.' How some of the Anglos, both British and American, seem to take sexual gratification from corporal punishment.
Coming from her uncle this seemed to be the most strange of his objections.
Laila knew only too well of her uncle's fascination with corporal punishment. Having been brought up by him since her early teens; she had seen and felt how her uncle ruled his household with, if not a rod of iron, certainly a rod of bamboo.
Family members and servants were all liable to summary punishments for any indiscretions. Of course in Malaysia that in itself was not that unusual, but it was her uncles keenness to administer the punishments that were unusual. So she knew that she would have to act quickly, and harshly to save herself, no matter how that effected those around her. In a way, it pained her to know that Simon would have to be the sacrificial lamb. Also, though she hated to admit it even to herself it also excited her. Maybe it was in her family genes, or perhaps she had just spent too long in her uncles presence. For whatever the reason though, the idea of dumping the blame of the whole shambles onto Simon gave her a heady rush.
Upon reaching the office block at around nine thirty, Laila went straight to her room, ignoring all the members of staff that she passed on her way. This morning was not a day for inconsequential pleasantries; this morning was a day for action, act now and perhaps save herself was her only thought.
Well, almost her only thought, Simon's coming admonishment was also figuring high in her consciousness. Laila took off her powder blue suit jacket and hung it over the back of her chair; she then went to her private bathroom at the side of her office. The bathroom was not just some pointless privilege handed out to the top executives. It served the purpose of enabling the 'top brass' of the company to work longer hours and not have to worry about personal hygiene. As always her uncle was very practical, even in the handing out of perceived perks.
Laila unbuttoned her white blouse and removed it, then set about washing her face and upper body, feeling gritty from her long journey she decides that a full body wash is in order. She locked the door from the inside, not that anyone would dare enter her bathroom but better safe than sorry.
She then stripped completely and entered her power shower, as she cleansed herself the events of the last few days come to her mind. She thought of the events in England as she soaped herself.
Thinking of Jane Murray, the middle aged office manager having to bare her bottom and bend over her own desk, to receive a paddling from a girl almost young enough to be her daughter.
Laila felt her nipples becoming harder as she soaped her breasts. She thought back to the photos too; they had both angered and excited Laila.
To be stripped and punished so publicly, exquisite she thought to herself, as she soaped her belly, then lower still. She puts the shower onto massage, takes the head in her hands and starts to rinse the soap from her body. Eyes closed; a mixture of jet-lag and feelings from her youth takes her mind drifting off to other places. Jane red-faced and shamed, unbuttoning her trousers for a paddling, her face a picture of anger. Then, she daydreamed of how Jane wouldl get her revenge on her sales team.
What was that girl's name?.... Caroline?
What will her fate be Laila wondered?
Then she heard panting; it brought her back to the room in a start. She realised the gasping was from her mouth as the pulsing columns of warm water from the shower head beat at her upper thighs and pussy. She was seconds away from orgasm as she pulled the head away from her sex.
She told herself. Stepping from the shower, she grabbed a towel and dabbed herself dry, the rough of the cloth further irritating already sensitive areas of her body.
She told her reflection in the mirror. Going to a small wardrobe where she kept emergency change of clothes, she opened the underwear drawer and picked out a pair of plain, full cut, white panties, and a white bra. She pondered the drawer a little longer, then decided against pantyhose if things went wrong today they would only be something else she would have to lower.
That thought sent a shiver through her body; it was one thing to give out humiliating corporal punishments, another thing altogether though to receive one.
She dressed quickly, trying to drive that thought from her mind if all goes well she should escape it, depending, of course, on her uncle's humour.
Now to the matter in hand, Simon as the scapegoat.
Laila picked up her phone and dialled. "Mr. Manners could you pop into my office, please, straight away if possible."
Simon Manners smiled as he placed the phone back onto its cradle, and headed towards Laila's office. Upon entering unbidden, Simon then took a seat in front of Laila's desk.
Laila arched her finely trimmed black eyebrows, for both her and her uncle the height of protocol should always be observed while at work. Simon caught the look in her eyes and smiled; the smile soon disappeared as he realised it was not being returned to him.
"Mr. Manners I have just returned from England as you know," Laila said in her most business like voice, and the puzzled Simon nodded. "things in the British outpost of our company are not good. As a matter of fact they are quite bad, it all stems from the S.P.A.N.K.S. program. As you are aware, this program being introduced to the western hemisphere of our companies was always a matter of concern to me and Mr. Toi."
Simon made to interrupt, but before he could even speak Laila held her hand up to silence him. "The program has been implemented very badly and could be the cause of concern in public relationships, possibly a disaster even. I have a meeting with Mr Toi later today to discuss how we can save the situation that you have plunged us into."
"I've plunged us into?" Asked Simon angrily, bewildered by Laila's twisting of events.
"Yes." She said, then continued. "The program has worked well in the east, but we have different viewpoints and traditions here. The program was never meant to be transferred worldwide. Until of course you really pushed for it."
You could have heard a pin drop in the room as Simon glared at Laila in disbelief.
"So I have decided that if I manage to nip this now, Mr Toi may be persuaded by the direct and swift action that I take this morning not to pursue the matter any further."
The penny now dropped with Simon, and he shook his head lost for words.
A shiver of anticipation ran down Laila's spine. He was going to go along with this; she could tell by his eyes, not happy but a sullen acceptance of the situation. Before he could argue, Laila stabbed at the intercom button on her desk. "Miss. Chandran could you bring me a cane please." Laila said to her P.A., then sat back in her chair and waited.
"Cane! Are you joking me?" Asked the indignant Simon.
Playing with the diamond solitaire on her left hand, Laila shook her head trying her hardest not to let her real feelings show.
"It has to be done; I can't think of any other course of action that may appease my... I mean Mr. Toi." She said in her saddest voice.
Then there was a sharp knock on her door, and Laila looked up to see Miss Chandran through the glass door holding a metre long bamboo cane. Laila waved her in and thanked her as she handed her the implement of correction. As Miss Chandran left the office Laila stood up and had a couple of practise swipes with the bamboo rod.
"Right, Mr. Manners, this is only a case of you putting yourself forward for the rest of the department," Laila said in a matter of factly, "in the spirit of the S.P.A.N.K.S. program. So if you could get yourself ready please."
In a daze, Simon stood up, then looked at the blinds on the glass wall of the office, and said pointing at them. "Are you going to close them... you know. before we start?"
"No, that is not in the spirit of the program."
Feeling that he was in some nightmare and about to awake, Simon started to loosen his pants, all the time shaking his head. After his trousers had been lowered to his knees, he looked imploringly at Laila.
"Boxers as well please, Mr. Manners, you know how punishments are given."
Reluctantly his fingers went to the waistband of his underwear, then they too joined his trousers at his knees. Simon was all too aware of how exposed he was to all the other staff members outside on the department's main floor. Laila could feel the heat building in her crotch though she was disappointed that Simon's cock was flaccid. She had often wondered if this sort of thing was a turn on for him, if this Englishman was a victim to the 'English vice', evidently he was not.
"Could you bend over the back of your chair, please, Mr. Manners? It will be six strokes, and they will be hard."
Laila was astounded at how easy this was turning out to be, as Simon followed her instruction. Of course, this wasn't the first time she had cause to punish a male in this way, but it was the first time with a western male. More to the point this particular western male, a little fantasy that she had harboured for some time now. Simon's bare buttocks upturned awaiting her correction, and now it was about to happen.
She took a step back and had one more practise air stroke; it amused her to watch his bottom cheeks tense at the sound of the cane. She waited. Then he relaxed his cheeks, and she struck like a Cobra. Simon called out in a mixture of shock and pain. Laila watched intensely as the mark of the rod came up on his bare bottom. Satisfied with her result, she applied the next stroke, no less hard than the first. Again he called out, this time adding a little stamping motion that forced his clothing further down his legs.
Silently Laila tapped the inside of Simon's upper thighs, for him to spread his legs further apart. As he did so his balls and the tip of his still flaccid member came into view. The third and fourth stroke she applied quickly, so that he had no time to prepare himself. He cried out in pain at the venomous strokes.
The fifth stroke she decided would be a gate stroke, crossing the previous four to form a five bar gate. She had read about this type of stroke and wanted to see it for real. She was not disappointed by the result.
The final stroke would be the one that he would feel tonight as he climbed up onto his bar stool for his post work drink. She aimed for the area where the bottom meets the tops of the thighs. Her aim was accurate; the accuracy was initially confirmed by his howl of pain, then seconded by the bright red weal appearing along the top of his thighs.
"Thank you Mr. Manners, I hope this proves to be enough to satisfy Mr.Toi."
Laila sat at her desk and wondered how she could have misjudged everything so badly. She had been sure with the things that she had seen and read in England; coupled with Simon's avid advocacy of the S.P.A.N.K.S program, that he would have found the caning to be just as exciting as she had.
She was wrong.
She was very wrong, after his caning had been completed Simon had merely re-adjusted his clothing and left her office in silence. Laila though had found the discipline to be an erotic experience far out weighing any other punishment she had either given or witnessed. She shook her head as she realised she had got yet another thing so wrong, then set about checking her emails as she waited for the inevitable call from her uncle. She did not have long to wait; his secretary rang to say he wanted to see her whole team in the conference room one at four fifteen.
The rest of Lailas' day was taken up with wondering what was going to happen that afternoon. The time came around soon enough, as Laila and the other eleven members of her team filed into the room, Laila couldn't fail to notice the yellow cane lying on the black granite conference table. Nor could she fail to see the look upon her uncles face.
"This does not look good." She thought to herself.
"Ladies, gentlemen, please be seated." Said Mr. Toi, in an unassuming, amicable manner.
They all took their seats apart from Mr. Toi, who remained standing, smiling and nodding to his assembled promotion team. Laila knew her uncle too well not to miss the steely look in his eyes; she wasn't being taken in by his affable facade.
"So," He said, still smiling, "exactly who has been involved in this 'failed program' in Britain?"
Three people held up their hands, Simon Manners, Miss. Chandran and Mrs. Teoh.
"Ah! Miss.Chandran I understand your feelings of responsibility, you being Miss. Tois' secretary, but unless you were directly involved in the decision process that led to this debacle you may lower you hand."
Miss. Chandran smiled with relief as she lowered her arm. Laila stared at the black table top evading her uncle's gaze.
"I see we have no member of the legal department here, with their hands up, did these memos write themselves?"
"Sir I... I had a little to do with drawing up the documents," said Mr. Sanjeet, the promotion teams young Indian lawyer.
"Only a little, Mr. Sanjeet?" Asked Mr. Toi. "I believe you were educated in England."
Mr. Sanjeet nodded glumly.
"So you would be very aware of the sensationalist nature of the English press, and also aware of the employment laws in that country."
"Yes, Mr. Toi, and I had huge misgivings about the program."
Laila stopped looking at the table top to glare in disbelief at Mr. Sanjeet; her uncle caught this look and smiled.
"So, Mr. Sanjeet," Mr. Toi continued in avuncular manner, "you will no doubt have voiced your opinions to the rest of the team?"
Mr. Sanjeet shook his head, and Mr. Toi tutted.
"Mr. Sanjeet and Mrs. Teoh I will see you both tomorrow morning in my office at nine o'clock sharp, and your involvement with be dealt with then. If you are not there, I will take your absence as being you handing in your notice."
They both nodded glumly, only too aware of what that meeting would bring.
"Miss. Toi," Mr. Toi said to his niece. "I noticed you never raised your hand."
Laila coughed to clear her throat then spoke. "I didn't feel the need to as I am involved in all aspects of my department's work, including staff allocation of work and team discipline. Since my return from England, a trip that I found to be very fruitful, having changed their implementation of the program. I have already dealt with our matter of staff discipline."
"The program did not warrant a change in implementation," Mr. Toi butted in, "it needs fazing out in Britain, and all plans to introduce it to other western countries need to be cancelled. Is that understood?"
Laila nodded; her eyes now watery.
"And what staff discipline are you referring to?"
"I have dealt with Mr. Manners."
Mr. Toi seemed to be visibly taken aback that this statement, almost on the verge of laughter he asked. "Really! In what way?"
"As Mr. Manners was the driving force behind the program, I caned him this morning for not looking into all aspects of the problems that a program like this could cause in his homeland."
Now in real danger of laughing, Mr.Toi said, "As I remember events, Miss. Toi, both you and Mr. Manners were keen to push this program through. Both of you chose to ignore my heartfelt objections, assuring me everything would be fine. I also recall telling you both "on your heads be it if it all goes wrong" is that not correct?"
Laila shrugged her shoulders, and lifted her palms face up in the classic Gallic gesture; she knew she was beaten. She also knew now that she was about to be beaten. It was just now a matter of whether it would be public or private.
"I would like to talk now to all the department as a whole," Mr. Toi said, "I understand that Miss. Toi, and to a certain extent Mr. Manners are both looked upon in some sort of awe by the rest of you. I wish to dispel any feelings that you may have that nepotism rules the offices of this company, only consistent results produce promotions in my regime. To reinforce this; and also to teach some rising young things that sometimes a wise old head knows what he is talking about; I plan to make their punishment, a public one. At least to you assembled in this room."
At that, Mr. Toi clicked his fingers. His secretary quickly ran around the office closing all the blinds, so that anyone, not in the office would not see the following proceedings.
Laila now felt very uncomfortable. She knew her uncle very well, and for all of her love of punishing people when the chance arose, the idea of being punished in front of her peers was bad enough. But being punished in front of her lessor's was plain awful. She now knew that that was exactly what her uncle had in mind. She and Simon were indeed going to be caned in front of her whole department.
"Miss. Toi," her uncle said still sounding amicable, "can you and Mr. Manners move to the front of the room and prepare yourselves?"
Laila stood up from her seat and walked, head held high to Mr. Tois' side. Laila knew only too well what was expected of her, and as a lead to Simon, Laila took off her jacket and placed it across the set of drawers behind them. Then she rolled up her suit skirt and tucked the hem into its waistband, revealing her white panties to her ever watchful audience.
Then in a token gesture born more from hope than from experience she said.
"Please, sir may I keep my panties up?"
In total silence, Mr. Toi shook his head.
Laila lowered her knickers to her knees, revealing her trimmed jet black bush to all in the room.
Simon looked on stunned by her display; then he too came forward like Laila before him he bared his lower body for punishment.
"In a difference to the usual protocol," Mr. Toi said, "today it will be gentlemen before ladies. Mr. Manners could you come forward and bend over, please."
As Simon moved to take his place, Mr. Toi caught sight of Simon's already latticed behind.
"Miss. Toi, how many strokes has Mr. Manners already had?" Asked Laila's uncle.
"Six, sir, six very hard ones." Replied Laila.
Mr. Toi nodded, and then said. "My intention was to give Mr. Manners eight strokes, but as he has already received six strokes, his sentence is reduced to two. Miss. Toi shall receive twelve strokes, as I see her as being the main culprit for the position that we are in at the moment."
Simon breathed a sigh of relief, and Laila gulped; the rest of the room tried to hold back their glee at the thought of the boss and her little pet getting a good caning. Mr. Toi picked up the cane and asked Simon to touch his toes. The two strokes were perfunctory, quickly laid on to his naked behind, one after the other with virtually no break between the two swishes.
But for all they were rapidly applied it made them no less painful. For an old man, he could still wield a wicked stick, and Simon was all too aware that there would be another two weal's joining the six that Laila had so over enthusiastically placed upon him. Mr. Toi motioned with his cane for Simon to stand to one side; Simon attempted to re-adjust his clothing but was met with.
"No, Mr. Manners, I see no need for you to be pulling up your clothing until your partner in ineptitude is also dealt with."
Those words stung Laila more than her uncle's cane would, or at least so she thought upon hearing them.
"Miss. Toi, please." Her uncle said, motioning to the vacated spot left by Simon.
Laila took the required position, bent forward her hands gripping hard at the back of her knees. The first stroke cut into her light brown buttocks, and she felt the tears start to rise within her, by the seventh stroke she was openly in tears, and crying for mercy from her uncle. Her uncle though was not feeling in any way merciful; all he said was.
"Let this be a lesson for all of you. No one in my business is immune from discipline should the need occur. I would advise you all that when you get home tonight, instead of watching television,"
He brought down the eighth and ninth strokes across Laila's naked behind by way of punctuation, emphasised on by her screams of pain.
"you should all thinking of a replacement bonus scheme that we can implement in Britain; that will both appease the staff and not cost the company." Strokes ten and eleven reinforced his statement, leastways Laila's cries reinforced it. Stroke twelve, like Laila with Simon, was aimed at the little crease between the bottom cheeks and the top of her thighs. Like his niece, his aim was true, as the cane lashed across her upper thighs Laila howled out in agony.
"OK, Miss. Toi you may now stand," her uncle told Laila.
As Laila struggled back into an upright position, she could see through her watery eyes that her punishment had an effect on at least one male in the room. Simon was standing with his hands on his head, and his cock pointing skywards.
"Mr. Manners," Mr. Toi said, "you may now readjust your clothing. Ladies and gentlemen, I thank you for your time, you may now leave, and I look forward to seeing you all tomorrow. Remember, Mr. Sanjeet and Mrs. Teoh I will be seeing you both at nine o'clock in the morning."
With that the room silently emptied, apart from Mr. Toi and his still half naked, sobbing niece. Once the room was empty, Mr.Toi stood behind his niece and said.
"Something for you to concentrate upon for the next twenty minutes."
Having said that he placed the cane between his niece's buttocks, and Laila gripped upon it with her bottom cheeks.
Fighting back the tears, she stood there, holding the cane in that obscene way knowing all too well the risk she ran of letting it fall to the floor. Once she had seen her uncle punish a maid in a similar manner for breaking a crystal decanter. For every time, she let the cane fall to the floor; her uncle gave the maid another cut of the cane and restarted her allocated time. Two and a half hours, the poor girl, stood there, earning herself seven extra cuts. Laila had no intention of that happening to her, so through her tears she concentrated on that cane between her cheeks like her very life depended on it.
Once her ordeal at her uncles hands was over, Laila went back to her penthouse overlooking Merlion Park, tonight though the view did not interest her. All she wanted was a long cold bath. Stripping off while the water ran, she thought of today's events and all their implications, how could she face her staff tomorrow after today's public humiliation? Then other thoughts, even worse ones ran through her head as she lowered herself into the cooling water. She heard a noise that she was dreading as she lay there in the large corner bath.
The sound of her fiance coming into the apartment, how could she explain herself?
The bathroom door opened, and he walked in, looking down at the naked girl in the water, her brown nipples peeking up from under the soapy suds, he asked.
"does it help then?" His voice was surprisingly soft and full of care.
"A little." She replied.
As her fiance stripped himself to join her, Laila looked at his naked welted buttocks. As he lowered himself into the cold soothing water, she said.
"I'm so sorry Simon."
Monday, 29 September 2014
Monday, 22 September 2014
From even a very early age Veronica "Ronnie" Monroe, was pretty much set in her idea of the way that she felt her career path would go. Much to her friend's confusion at secondary school, she had only chosen subjects that would help her along that path, her final goal was to work within the church.
She had no intention to become a nun, or even to work in the missions. She didn't think her faith was strong enough for those options, her plan was to work within the public relations of the church, perhaps even in the Vatican itself.
To that end, she studied hard in school, then upon leaving school she went to university studying journalism. Once her degree was obtained, most people in her situation would have then looked for a job. Most people though are not as single minded as Ronnie, for her that degree only marked the halfway line in her mindset.
So instead of looking for a full time job where she could put her qualifications to good use, she chose to take Italian night classes, and to enrol on another degree course, this time theology and the divinities.
Father Langlan, her tutor and college mentor, was, however, worried about his young protege. Not that her classes were sliding at all, bearing in mind her work commitments she was doing excellent on the academic front, as she had for the previous two and a half years. It was Ronnie's personal life that was becoming a cause of concern for the old priest.
To finance herself through college, the twenty four year old had had to take several part time jobs, bar and shop work for the most part. Now, however, she was working in a well known night club in the city centre. For a night club to be well known to the sixty two year old priest, meant that it had to be well known for all the wrong reasons!
Then as if a message from above, a letter arrived on Father Langlan's desk, more an invitation than a letter, once he read it he knew straight away what course of action to take, hence the presence of Ronnie in his office.
"Veronica, I have had a letter from a prestigious Christian college for girls in Texas," he said to the pretty little dark haired girl sitting in front of his desk. "It's an invitation to send a student from here across to the states for a three months. As soon as I read the letter I thought of you and I would like to know if you would like me to put your name forward?"
"Er, well father I don't know, how will this effect my research here......and....how much will it cost?"
"It would not effect your studies, if anything it may improve them, you would have more time for your college work with no night time job. As for the cost, the cost plus a living allowance is being given by the college, as a kind of bursary I suppose. To be honest I'm not sure how these large colleges over there work out their finances, but it is all in the information pack should you choose to take up the offer."
"Why me father?" Ronnie asked, somewhat wary of this strange but exciting opportunity.
"I won't beat about the bush," the priest said, then continued. "I'm a little worried about your private life, I know you need to work to finance your studies, it's just the choice of work that you have chosen. Perhaps not the grounding for someone who has ambitions to work in the Eternal City?"
Ronnie had never felt so small in all her life; she looked down at the top of the priests desk trying to avoid eye contact with him.
"I know, it's not ideal...." Ronnie said close to tears. "but it pays well for a very few hours work....and I didn't think...."
"Didn't you think anyone would know you were working in a lap dancing club?" the priest asked directly.
"Yeah....but I'm not one of the dancers you know....I work behind the bar...and the costumes are no different to being on the beach."
The old priest then struggled to get the mental image of Ronnie serving drinks in a bikini out of his mind as he tried to get the conversation back on track.
"Well if you take them up on this opportunity, you may find that it offers more structure, and discipline to your life. Also,it gives you the chance to immerse yourself in a foreign culture."
Ronnie gave a little chuckle, then said.
"Hardly really a foreign culture...in Texas! The same language, and let's face it we are inundated with USA based TV programs."
"Well TV programs aren't the same of living out the lifestyle, also the USA is a very spiritual place, at least in some places, more so than the UK." the priest said rising from his chair and heading over to the kettle in the corner of his office."Should I make a cuppa while you look at the invitation, and the college handbook?"
Ronnie didn't answer but nodded her assent. Father Langlan returned, placing the tea on the desk, as he took up his seat he watched Ronnie's face intently.
He noticed each change, each little eyebrow raise, each frown and each smile.
"So what do you think Ronnie, should I put you forward, I don't want to rush you, but time is of the essence?"
"I'm really not sure if this is for me Father." Ronnie replied; her face a mixture of disappointment and confusion, Father Langlan smiled and nodded for her to continue. "It's all the rules. They have a dress code, skirts only on campus...knee length at that? Loose blouses...cardigans....it sounds like the set of Happy Days, or Laverne and Shirley all that's missing is the poodle prints!"
Father Langlan laughed out loud and shook his head.
"The college is not Christian Fundamentalist, per se, but some of the staff and students are. The dress code reflects that; the bible teaches that the sexes should not wear each other's clothing, so the dress code is in keeping with that tenet."
Ronnie nodded, then said.
"Discipline within line with the county and state education services?"
Again the priest laughed.
"Would you expect it to be out of line with the county and state rules?"
This time it was Ronnies turn to laugh at her own silliness, it was becoming obvious that she was looking a gift horse in the mouth.
The next three weeks had been a whirl of activity, from Ronnie agreeing to take up the kind offer to arriving in Austin Texas had only taken ten days!
All paperwork and visa problems had just seemed to melt away.
The first few days at the college had her head buzzing. Even with the help of Johanna, the girl who had been assigned to her as "study buddy" and general guide, Ronnie still found the college to be an intimidating environment. The college was run at breakneck speed, no sooner did a bell ring than the girls had their books packed away and were rushing of to the next lecture or seminar. The whole bell ringing thing reminded Ronnie more of school than university, and such rushing about!
"Ronnie you really don't want to be getting any tardies!" Johanna had warned her in very serious tones, so Ronnie just tried to get herself used to the frantic movements around the campus.
Lunchtimes, however provided Ronnie with a better chance to take in the general atmosphere of the place, as Father Langlan had said,
"immerse yourself in a foreign culture."
To that end, she had taken to attending the charismatic and popular Principal Everard's early afternoon discussions on The Bible In A Modern World.
Each day he picked some part from The Book, and left it open for the students to interpret how it is still pertinent today. On the Thursday, he had chosen the twenty third psalm, and asked for any ideas, a short haired girl in glasses rose up with her hand in the air.
Principal Everard nodded for her to speak.
"I see it all the time as a reflection of a Christian family. The staff is the love of the family, pulling any wandering sheep back into the fold. The rod is the discipline, sometimes needed to keep harmony and respect within the family boundaries." she said quickly, almost as if rehearsed, then sat back down in her seat.
Principal Everard nodded thoughtfully before speaking.
"Thank you Lousie, not an unheard of analogy," he said, looking around the room catching each girl in the eye. "perhaps someone could give us an example of this in action?"
The room fell silent; Ronnie could see some of the girls fidget in embarrassment whilst others looked down upon the bare wooden flooring. Then a voice broke the silence.
"Please sir! I could share my recent experience." all heads turned to look at the tall, willowy black haired girl.
"That would be wonderful Sarah, please continue." the principal said, his voice now soft and encouraging.
"Well a few weeks ago, I took my mom's car without permission. She was out, and my friend, and I wanted to go into town for a quick bit of shopping. I figured well no one will know so no harm will be done...." Ronnie watched as the girls face reddened, and her voice started quivering slightly, as if she now regretted standing up. "well anyway, to cut a long story short it all went wrong. Mom's car is a stick shift, I spent that much time worrying about the right gear and stuff....I sort of didn't take enough care over the actual driving...I hit a corner to hard and went off the road. We weren't hurt, but I had busted the cars suspension, then along came a car from the Sheriffs Office. I knew then that I was in deep trouble...you know like we had kinda stolen the car!.
Mom and dad are both well known in the community; my dad is a lawyer, and mom is a realtor. So as a favour to my dad, the Sheriff had the car towed home as we were taken to his office...."
Ronnie could see the young woman was now on the verge of tears, when the principal spoke.
"Please Sarah, continue...it will do you good to share this with us all." he said in the same soft tone.
"Well the Sheriff rang my mom for her to come and collect the two of us. When she got us out into dads station wagon that she had been using that day...she was fuming....I don't think I've ever seen her in such a mood.
- You know what's coming to you when you get home don't you? - she asked me.
- Please mom, not with Tammy staying with us! - I pleaded.
- You should have thought of that before you stole and wrecked my car. - she told me then said.
- Tammy should think herself lucky that she is not getting the same, for her part in this. When we get in I want you straight in the corner, jeans and underwear down till your father gets home then he can deal with you, with an old-fashioned belting!-"
At this Ronnie started in shock, was this girl serious? She looked to be about twenty or so, she had to be at least nineteen to be at the college. She had said this only happened a few weeks ago!
With tears now running down her eyes, Sarah continued.
"I pleaded with mom for her to put off my punishment till Tammy went home....she couldn't be budged though. I tried then to get her to change her mind about it being on the bare...I begged to at least be allowed to keep my underpants on. Again she would have none of it.
- If ever you have deserved a bare bottom belting it has been today, so that is what you will get. Before you ask. It will be your dad giving you it! It will be in the lounge, and Tammy will see you get it so she can see what your joint stupidity has earned you! - I knew then that any further arguing was just going to make it worse for me."
"So how did you feel Sarah?" Principal Everard asked almost in a whisper.
"Ashamed of myself for causing my parents so much distress. Ashamed that I was going to be seen by my father in my nakedness. Ashamed that my friend would be witnessing my punishment. When we got home, I just did as my mom had told me. You see deep down I knew she was right. I did deserve what was coming my way.
Of course that didn't make it any easier for me as I made my way to my old punishment corner. I hadn't had to stand there for...well I'm not sure how long...a couple of years maybe.
As I pulled down my jeans and underpants, It felt really weird; Tammy had seen me naked plenty of times at the changing rooms in the gym, and also when we have been sharing my room. This somehow felt so different....so humbling. Then mom tied my T-shirt in a knot, lifting it high up my tummy and my back.
Then I heard dad come through the front door, and I just thought, well this is it!
- Sarah! - dad said as he came into the room; I turned to face him, my hands still on top of my head.....I knew that he could see...you know...everything.
- I thought these days were long gone now, hand me your belt - my hands were shaking as I bent down, and pulled my belt out of the loops on my jeans; It felt so strange handing it to him, knowing that in a few moments that I would be feeling it again, but in such a different way....I just broke down in tears.
-Thank you Sarah, now over the back of the sofa, you should still remember the position. - I rushed to get my self over the back of our leather sofa...if for nothing else, just to hide my frontal nudity. The leather was so cold on the bareness of my naked belly, but that sensation didn't last long...as dad lashed the belt across my bare behind.
I gritted my teeth not wanting to cry out in front off Tammy....of course I couldn't keep that up for long. Soon I was just hollering the house down...the belt wasn't just catching my behind...my legs were getting a good lashing, as well.
Then after what seemed like an age, I heard dad's voice through all my sobbing and sniffling.
- Right Sarah, make yourself decent. Go up to your room. Get in your PJ's and get to bed. - I can tell you I didn't have to be told twice."
"So how did you feel about being belted and put to bed early like a little child?" Principal Everard asked.
"It's odd." Sarah said, "I felt kinda good about myself; I'd done wrong...but I took my licks. I knew that my parents had punished me, not just from anger, but from love."
Ronnie was shocked as everyone else in the room, including Principal Everard, started to clap as Sarah sat back into her seat.
"What the hell was all that about?" Ronnie thought to herself.
She decided then to invite Johanna back to her room tonight for a couple of glasses of wine, perhaps she could explain it all to her.
A young woman receiving such punishment, and the seeming acquiescence of all the other girls in the room to it?
Also the archaic language, which girls these days say behind or underpants? Instead of butt or panties?
Ronnie Monroe had decided to herself that, for all of the college's many rules, most were only honoured more in the breach than in the observance. For all that no one wore trousers or jeans on campus during the week, once Saturday came around at least a third of the girls who resided in the three house blocks on campus could be seen wandering about dressed in the forbidden male attire. Also for sports, some of the girls wore the most revealing of spandex clothing leaving nothing at all to the imagination, perhaps in some kind of silent rebellion Ronnie wondered.
No one blatantly broke the smoking rule by smoking in the public areas, but it was also quite plain that many of girls did smoke in the privacy of their rooms in their three storey house blocks, and in other known but ignored areas around campus.
The house block that Ronnie had been allocated to was ran by Miss Lucy Logan, who at the age of twenty six was only two years Ronnie's senior, Ronnie felt rather foolish calling her Mother or Ma'am. That was though Miss Logan's title as she was block's housemother. She was plain looking jolly girl, about five foot five with mousy hair, who at Ronnie's first impression was just looking for an easygoing, quiet life in charge of the girls.
The blocks themselves were not like sorority houses, they were just plain and simple housing for the students. Each student had a small self contained bedroom/study area, and their own shower and bathroom facilities. Cooking and eating was in the communal area, one area for each floor, so she shared her's with eighteen other girls, all of whom were at least three years her junior.
So in this atmosphere of friendly shared living, Ronnie saw no real harm in stretching another of the campuses' many and baffling rules. She had invited Johanna around to her room for a shared bottle or two of red wine. Ronnie had noticed the odd look that Johanna had given her at such an invitation.
"You sure about this?" Johanna had asked Ronnie, "You know alcohol is really frowned on here?"
"Nah, it will be no probs, Mother Logan is cool?" Ronnie replied, smiling confidently.
"OK, it's your ass."
Johanna arrived at seven o'clock, as she lived off campus staying with her brother and her sister in law who both lived and worked in Austin. No sooner had Johanna sat down with her glass in hand, than Ronnie started to regale her with what she had heard at the lunchtime seminar. Johanna listened patiently a slight knowing smile upon her face then said.
"So you are lunching with the Everardashians now?"
"It's my pet name for the girls that hang on the Principal's every word." Johanna said now grinning broadly as she handed Ronnie a cigarette. "There are a number of girls here, that are like Everard's, not so little fan club. Deep down I think they would like to be his groupies, but of course that would never happen. So they make do with trying to get close to him, you know the sort of thing, saying what they think he would like to hear that kinda thing. That's why they would have all clapped at the end of Sarah's story, to keep in with the big guy."
"So you are saying she made it all up?"
"No! No way, it will most likely be true enough, just most people would try and keep it quiet rather than blab it all to an audience."
"It just all seems so wrong to me," Ronnie said shaking her head in disbelief, "she is young woman being stripped by her mother then beaten by her father!"
"OK, hold it! So you are saying spanking is wrong, because if you are, you will be in the minority around here, it's all spare the rod etc., and domestic discipline is pretty much condoned by the staff and students." Johanna said, and Ronnie could feel the annoyance in her voice, "Let's face it she may be twenty, but she is still living off her parents, not working or contributing to the family income. Still living at home, and behaving like a spoilt little brat, so why should age come into it?"
"It's just not decent, that's why!"
"So you think discipline should be by age, and not behaviour? Once your kids hit.....I dunno...fifteen say... they should just be able to run around unchecked?"
Ronnie sighed, not wanting to argue with her friend she decided that maybe a change of subject would be a good idea, but then thought again and said.
"So are you still spanked at home?"
"Nope!" Johanna said now laughing, "I'm not spanked at home. Oh! I love this song!" Johanna exclaimed then leant over and turned up Ronnie's CD player.
"I know it's a great album isn't it?" The words had no sooner left Ronnie's mouth than her door burst open, and Lucy Logan entered.
"Come on girls turn it down a bit people are trying to study you know." Lucy Logan said, then noticed the wine bottles on the bedside cabinet. Picking them both up she said. "This is not allowed, you both know that, especially you Johanna!"
Ronnie watched as the colour drained from Johanna's face.
"I'm sorry Ma'am....we just thought it would be OK...you know to unwind?"
Lucy glared at Johanna.
"And smoking, as well! You are both pink slipped, at least with it being Friday tomorrow you won't have long to wait. Four fifteen, at Principal Everard's office, I'll tell his secretary to expect you both, and she'll have your slips for you! Johanna I think it is time you left now."
Lucy then left the two girls, taking the wine bottles with her.
Now Ronnie was feeling all at sea, the red wine hitting her causing her face to burn up, the reference to pink slips confusing her further. She watched nonplussed as Johanna rushed to put on her coat and pick up her things to leave.
"Johanna," Ronnie said trying to glean some sense out of what had just happened, "what is she on about, pink slips?"
"It means we are going to get a paddywhacking!" Johanna said before rushing out the door.
Ronnie was tempted to go out and ask Lucy what was going on, but she was sure that it was just a wind up from Johanna, and to go and ask her housemother would just be making herself look foolish.
Rather than going out into the community area she decided to study a little. The mixture of the wine, and a niggling uncertainty about what would be happening tomorrow afternoon made all her attempts at studying a waste of time. So she settled for an early though restless night.
All day on the Friday, the nagging doubt at the back of her mind kept pushing itself to the front of her conscience. Johanna could not have meant what she said it just defied all logic. Grown women just do not get paddled at university! She needed to speak to Johanna, but Friday was the only day where none of their lectures coincided with each others.
Lessons end at four o'clock, and it came around very quickly, so soon enough Ronnie found herself walking down to the Principals office, still arguing with herself in her own head when she reached the secretary's office to the front of the principal's room.
"Hello, I'm Veronica Monroe, I have an appointment to see Principal Everard at four fifteen."
"Yip, your the Brit girl aren't you?" the secretary said her eyes twinkling and smiling rather smugly, "take one of the seats in front of his door."
She then handed Ronnie a little pink folded note and added.
"No talking till you are called in! Unless you want to be making things worse for yourself Hun?"
Ronnie walked down the thin corridor by the side of the secretary's office leading to the principal's room. A row of about nine seats ran up the right hand side of the wall, she noticed that one seat was already taken, by a black girl wearing what looked to be some sort of African traditional dress. She wore a long thick white cotton dress, and a kind of white cotton hat that covered all her hair apart from a little shock of black curls popping out at her brow.
The girl looked straight ahead, not even turning to acknowledge Ronnie's approach even when she sat down by her side, the girl continued staring at the opposite wall in deep concentration, obviously lost in her own thoughts.
Then Ronnie heard the distinctive clip-clap of female heels on the tiled floor; she turned to a girl that she recognised from yesterday's seminar, the one who had stood up and given her opinion on what the twenty third psalm meant to her. She didn't check in at the secretary's office; then Ronnie noticed that she already had a little pink folded note in her hand.
The girl looked at Ronnie, and give her a little smile and a shrug of her shoulders as she took the next seat to her. Ronnie was tempted to speak but held her tongue, as the girl leant forward and undid her shoes, took them off and pushed the beneath her seat.
Just as Ronnie was about to ask her what she was doing that for, Ronnie noticed that Johanna was now at the secretary's office at the head of the corridor.
"Hey, Johanna it's been a while for you hasn't it?" Ronnie heard the secretary say. "Usual drill nothing much has changed."
Johanna nodded glumly as she collected her pink slip, seeing that it looked like Ronnie was about to speak she raised her index finger to her lips in the international "shush" sign. Johanna also sat down and also took of her shoes and pushed them beneath her seat. This made Ronnie wonder if the principal had some rules about shoes in his office, some rule that the secretary had not informed her off? Without making it to obvious Ronnie leant forward to look at her neighbour's feet, she was wearing flat sandals, so that ruled out her new carpet theory.
Sighing in confusion, she leant back in her seat and waited.
Ronnie and her three compatriots did not have long to wait, upon hearing the principal's door open all four girls turned to see Principal's Everard's six foot three broad frame filling the doorway. As he stood there in his customary white shirt and tie, Ronnie realised that this was the first time she had seen him not wearing his suit jacket; she also took noted his Popeye like forearms evidence of his use of the college weights room.
"Only four today," he said smiling pleasantly, "might as well see you all together, it works out quicker in the long run."
Stepping back he held the door open for the girls to enter his office. After the four of them filed into his office, he closed the door behind them.
"All familiar faces I see here, apart from one, and Johanna this must be your first Friday visit this year?"
Ronnie glanced across at her friend, who did not reply but only nodded red-faced to his question.
"OK girls let's have your rap sheets," the principal said as he collected the four little pink notes, quickly unfolding and reading each one, "ah
Miss Monroe, our visitor from across the pond! I was hoping to chat with you next week, just to see how you were settling in; I wasn't expecting our meeting to be brought forward in such a way!"
Ronnie could now feel her face reddening to, as she realised that now all eyes in the room were focused upon her.
"Two here for repeated tardies, and two for smoking and drinking in the blockhouses. Well as the tardies are only one offence as such we can deal with them first," the principal said as he went to his desk and retrieved a small clear plastic paddle from his drawer, the smoking and drinking are two offences so obviously carry a double penalty. Don't worry though Miss Monroe, I operate a frequent flier discount here, one offence three pops, anything above that goes to two pops. So you and Johanna will be receiving five pops."
Ronnie was dumbstruck; she just stood opened mouthed as she stared at the paddle in his hand.
"This can't be real!" she thought to herself. They were going to be paddled; young adults treat like kids, every part of her wanted to scream out in protest. Instead though, she just stared at the paddle in the principal's hand, she had seen many paddles in the shops in Austin. She had assumed they were just talking pieces to hang on the wall; most were made of wood, many had jokey writing on them, such as "OUCH!" or "Heat For The Can". The one the principal held though seemed more business like, more clinical in it's manufacture.
"Abena, would you like to be first?" the principal asked, and the still silent black girl stepped forward.
Ronnie watched in a strangely detached way, as the girl walked to the principal's desk lifting the hem of her dress as she went. She lifted her clothing well clear of her hips, revealing her large magnificently rounded buttocks encased in a pair of pale blue full cut knickers. Ronnie swallowed hard as she noticed the contrast of colouring that her choice of underwear had made with the surrounding skin as the girl bent across the desk.
What happened next dragged Ronnie out of her semi dream like state and back into the office, Principal Everard moved behind Abena and peeled down her underwear till her panties reached her knees.
Ronnie opened her mouth about to protest at such an invasion upon the girl's modesty, when she noticed there had been no complaint, or even expression of shock from either Abena or the other two girls she decided to hold her tongue. At least for now anyway.
The principal then took up his position to the left of Abena, then without any preamble or warning brought the paddle across her naked backside.
The impact caused Abena to grunt out an almost silent "Oomph"
The next "pop" as the principal called it made Abena slightly more vocal, Ronnie, could not help but stare at the girls nakedness in a mixture of shock and fascination. She watched the result that the pops were having up her skin; both had left first, an odd paleness followed quickly by a purplish bruising.
"Last one Abena!" the principal said finally breaking his silence, the last stroke arrived after a much longer time lag than between the other two previous strokes. This final stroke elicited a cry of pain from the girl!
Ronnie rightly guessed that the principal had been waiting for the pain of the first two strokes to really seep in, before unleashing his ultimate part of her punishment.
"Sadistic bastard!" Ronnie thought to herself.
"OK, back in line Abena," he told the girl, "try to get to your classes on time from now on!"
"Yes sir," she said as she turned to face the principal, in so doing exposing her full luxuriant pubic bush to him as she struggled to pull her panties back over her now very sore butt. "I will sir, thank you."
"I do hope so Abena; this is becoming a bit of a habit," the principal said then indicating with his paddle, "Louise you are next please."
The girl from earlier today, moved towards the desk took of her glasses and carefully put them on the desk. Like Abena, she also lifted her skirt before bending forward. As before the principal lowered her panties, seemingly not to anyone's surprise, apart from for Ronnie, who still felt that she was in some dream, about to awoken at any moment.
This time though Ronnie watched more carefully, each detail registering with her.
She watched as the principal placed the first pop onto Louise's right buttock; she stared still open mouthed at the reaction that this stroke had upon her. Unlike Abena, Louise shouted out immediately; her feet trammelled on the floor as she tried to stamp out the pain.
Ronnie watched as Louise's pale pink right buttock turned crimson red.
The next stroke cause even lewder bottom wriggling from the ever louder girl. As Ronnie watched Lousie clenching and relaxing her bottom cheeks, she wondered if Louise had a lower pain thresh hold to Abena, or if it was all just for effect as she remembered Johanna's words - Deep down I think they would like to be his groupies, but of course that would never happen. So they make do with trying to get close to him, - then Ronnie remembered something else that Johanna had said when she had asked her is she was spanked - Nope! I'm not spanked at home - doubts were now appearing in Ronnie's mind, had Johanna been qualifying her statement by saying "not at Home".
Had Johanna deliberately engineered this situation, by turning up the CD player forcing Lucy's hand as she found them both rule breaking?
Louise's last call of pain as the paddle made contact for the third time broke Ronnie's mental wanderings. Ronnie watched as Louise like Abena before her, turned and made no attempt to hide her frontal nudity as she pulled her underwear back into place. Ronnie also noticed the total lack of tears for all her shouting and crying.
"Just showboating!" Ronnie thought to herself, as Louise moved back to her place in the line.
"Johanna," the principal said, "your turn now I think."
Perhaps, it was maybe now time for Ronnie to make her objections felt.
Ronnie wondered if this was really the time to speak up?
After all if Johanna had not, as she suspected, set them both up for this paddling she certainly seemed resigned to her punishment! She never made any attempt to try and plead for a reduction upon their allotted five pops of the paddle. Ronnie was also pretty sure that Johanna was indeed, or was once, one of Everardashians that she had seemed so keen to ridicule last night in Ronnie's room.
"If she wants a red arse, let her get on with it!" Ronnie thought to herself as Johanna moved to replace Lousie, over the desk.
"I must admit I'm surprised to see you in here again Johanna," the principal said as Johanna lifted her skirt before bending across his desk, "more so for such odd offences. You have both been taking advantage of Mother Logan's good nature; I know she operates quite a liberal house but even she has her limits on behaviour. Did it not cross your mind to point that out to your study buddy?"
"I'm sorry sir," Johanna said in an almost inaudible whisper, "Ronnie said it would be OK, I did try to warn her sir."
The principal nodded though he looked less than convinced as he approached the now prone girl across his desk. As before there was no complaint as he pulled down Johanna's small yellow panties. All of a sudden a thought ran through Ronnie's head as she tried to remember what underwear she was wearing, not that it mattered of course as she had no intention of going over his desk in the first place. Still though she struggled to remember as she looked at her "friend's" now naked and surprisingly chubby bottom.
This time though instead of watching the effect of the paddle on naked skin, she wanted to concentrate upon the paddler.
She wanted to work out why so many of the girls were so infatuated by him. Sure enough he was handsome in an old fashioned sort of way, tall broad shouldered, his short light brown hair greying around the temples giving him a look of distinguished maturity. Also, when he spoke there was a gentle assuring tone to his deep voice, even in these circumstances of having to inflict pain!
She stared at his face as he brought the paddle back before landing it upon Johanna's right buttock.
There was no sign of anger as he did so, no sign of any sort of sadistic lust. To Ronnie's mind he looked dispassionate; he could just as easy have been filling his car with gas, rather than spanking a naked young - and most likely virginal - girls bottom!
Ronnie realised, as the principal delivered the second stroke this time to Johanna's right cheek, all he was doing was enforcing the college's rules in an even handed manner, and working within pre set tariffs set down in those rules.
Still though it didn't make it any more right that in this day and age young women could be treated in such a debasing manner!
The third stroke that was then laid upon the middle of Johanna's behind caused a sudden call out of pain by the recipient. Ronnie could now see just how methodical the principal was in his issuing of the allotted strokes. The first two, as before were aimed at specific areas of the girls proffered bottoms, the third as earlier was laid across the centre, re-catching the already red and pre-pained parts of the bottom.
Unlike Louise, Johanna seemed to resist the temptation of over indulging in a lascivious display of bottom swaying and stamping. Ronnie could appreciate the sense in such a display if indeed, Johanna were right about the other girls intentions. What better way to flirt with someone, than to bend yourself over in front of them, allow them to denude you while you present yourself to them?
No amount of cheeky double innuendos could ever possibly trump such a physical statement as that!
"What now though." Ronnie wondered to herself; Johanna still had another two pops to go, unlike her two predecessors. For the most part her bottom, or at least the main sit upon part, was now a bright and painful looking red, where can he go from here?
Almost in answering Ronnie's unspoken question, principal Everard changed sides, two short steps, and he was now to Johanna's right hand side. To further answer Ronnie's unspoken query, he the unleashed another measured stroke upon Johanna's proffered bottom. This time,an almost upward stroke,focused upon her left flank, catching both an untreated area of flesh and overlapping onto her already red full cheek.
Now Johanna was in tears, unlike Louise's tears, her's were real.
Inevitably, the final stroke was a carbon copy but laid upon her right cheek.
Johanna was sobbing openly; all self restraint now long gone!
As Johanna stood upright, she turned her tear streaked face towards Ronnie and shook her head ruefully, Ronnie could see that if Johanna had tried to arrange this she now regretted it. Ronnie watched as Johanna struggled painfully pulling her panties back up over her punished behind.
Ronnie knew it was now time for her to say her piece and leave.
She struggled to find the correct words, she didn't want the other girls to think that she was a chicken!
Also,she didn't know what the ramifications to herself would be when she refused her allotted corporal punishment.
Sent home in disgrace, an embarrassment to Father Langlan whose trust and faith she would be breaking?
"immerse yourself in the culture","the discipline will do you good", those were more or less his words, but surely he had never meant anything even vaguely like this though?
"Miss Monroe," the principal said breaking the silence in the room, the silence apart from Johanna's gentle sobbing that is, "could you be so good as to remove your shoes please?"
"Yes, please, your heels are a little high, and we wouldn't want you to twist your ankle and to hurt yourself." the principal said in his soft calm almost hypnotic voice.
The irony of the situation seemed to be lost on everyone in the room apart from Ronnie, the fact that he was worried about her being hurt whilst holding a polycarbonate sheet that's whole design and reason for being was to cause pain seemed not to raise a single eyebrow!
The acceptance of this made Ronnie seem unsure in her own confidence in her so far unvoiced standpoint.
Perhaps after all they were right?
Maybe her actions did indeed deserve a swift and severe punishment?
In an odd, almost surreal way, she bent down and unstrapped her shoes taking each off and placing them to her rear; it still didn't mean that she was going along with this ridiculous scenario, did it?
"If you could be so kind as to lift your skirt, then put your arms upon the desk, you will find that if you leave your forearms as a resting point and then grip the far edge of the desk that it will be more comfortable for you," Principal Everard said as if he was advising of the best seat in a theatre, "then place your feet just slightly further than shoulder's width apart it will make you a little more stable."
Still in some sort of daydream Ronnie did as instructed, so far there had been no real break where she could diplomatically voice her opinion and disgust at the whole procedure.
The next thing Ronnie felt, was Principal Everard's hands going up under the fabric of her skirt, high up her back and beneath her blouse, reaching and searching for the waistband of her tights, she wished now that she had only worn ankle socks like her three predecessors, then she gulped as she felt his fingers find the elusive line between fabric and skin. His movement was deft, though not hurried, as he denuded Ronnie of both her tights and knickers in one movement. Principal Everard was only the second person in Ronnie's life to strip her in such a manner, and was the first to do it for reasons of chastisement!
Now there was no real point in a complaint, here she was stripped from the waist down bent over his desk, the time for rebellion had long gone!
Now was the time for a stiff upper lip, and a casual shrug of the shoulders after it was all finished, but having just witnessed Johanna's paddling Ronnie's eyes were already misting up.
"Miss Monroe could you arch your back a little for me please?" the principal said trying to coax Ronnie through her up and coming ordeal.
Ronnie did as asked, and no sooner had she elevated her bottom for him, she felt the first taste of lexan against her bare skin. It caught her by surprise in many ways.
Yes, it hurt, though not as bad as she thought it would, it more or less just caught her breath and stung a little!
Then she felt the heat spread out, the blade of the paddle was only maybe three to three and a half inches wide, after about fifteen seconds though her whole right buttock felt as if it was ablaze!
She knew what was to come next, but knowing about something and dealing with it are two different things, as the second stroke landed on her left buttock, as if in the form of contrition she felt the first real tear run down her cheek, which then dripped from her face onto the polished veneer of the desk.
She knew the worst was yet to come, the third overlapping stroke that would make contact in part, with both of her cheeks, she gritted her teeth in anticipation.
"Aaagh!" she called out at the paddles measured kiss.
"Your doing fine Miss Monroe," the principal said, his voice a soft whisper. "only two more and it will all be over and forgotten."
"Forgotten?" Ronnie thought to her herself, "how could this ever be forgotten?"
The fourth strike of the paddle, as it landed upon the lower under section of her toned left buttock almost caused Ronnie rise up.
"Aaagh yer twat yer!" Ronnie called out, then immediately apologised for her outburst. "I'm sorry sir!"
"Well as this your first, and I hope only Friday afternoon visit to my office I will ignore your use of profanity," the principal said, in a matter of fact way, and not in anger. "though any repetition will incur you another pop."
"Yes sir, I'm sorry sir!" Ronnie said, not believing; that here she was, a twenty four year old woman bent bare bottomed across a desk' and now apologising to the man who was methodically blistering her arse with a paddle. Surely she was going to wake up soon?
The last stroke reminded her that this was no fevered dream or fantasy!
This was a reality, and the reality was painful, the reality, that had now reduced her - like Johanna before her - into a crying sobbing wretch.
"Right Miss Monroe, we are finished here now," Principal Everard informed her in his still soft tone. "if you would like to rearrange your clothing?"
Ronnie rose slowly, the last two pops making each movement of her legs a pain filled sensation. As she stood facing the principal, rubbing vigorously at her still bare bottom, he said to all four of the girls.
"You are all free to leave now ladies, and I hope all four of you have a very pleasant weekend."
As Ronnie rushed to pull up her knickers to cover her modesty, the other girls chorused.
"Thank you sir!" and made to leave the room.
Ronnie was now panicking that she was going to be left in the office alone with Principal Everard, quickly she dragged up her tights and picked up her shoes in the hope to catch up with the others. With her face, still tear streaked, and clutching her shoes like a safety blanket in front of her, she muttered.
"Thank you sir, and I hope you have a pleasant weekend also sir." then Ronnie rushed red faced out of the office.
The Sunday morning came around, and Ronnie arose from her bed, determined that today she would go for her run. In her time here she had taken to run laps of the playing fields each day. Yesterday though she couldn't manage to because of the still lingering pain from her paddling of the previous afternoon. She was sure it was the last two pops, being brought so low were the main cause of her discomfort; making, so that each step, was a painful reminder of her indiscretions.
Deep down she knew though that even if she had been fit she wouldn't have gone out running.
As she had passed the last day and a half, almost hiding in her room, ashamed at meeting any of the other girls or Lucy Logan the house mother, knowing that they would all know what had happened to her.
Being paddled at twenty four was bad enough, but having all and sundry knowing about it made it so much worse, in some ways that shame felt worse than the pain!
As well as the pain and the shame, there was the mixed emotions that Ronnie had been struggling with.
Did she deserve it?
Was her life really missing self discipline, so much so that an imposed regime could really be of benefit to her?
Had Father Langlan had just such a scenario in his mind when he recommended her to the college?
Worst of all was a nagging little part of her mind that seemed to tell her that she had enjoyed it?
Not the actual punishment that had been awful, painful and highly embarrassing!
The aftermath, the afterglow even, she found solace in. She had broken the rules, and she had paid for it in the most basic and salutary of ways, she had found as the pain faded her mind became more focussed on the effect it had had upon her.
Also, at another more basic level it had invaded parts of her mind that she liked to keep locked away and unacknowledged even by herself. She shuddered as she dressed for her run, as that dark part of her mind came to the fore, the part of her that housed her secret submissive nature, she shook her head in an attempt to rid those thoughts.
"You didn't come here to get kinky thrills girl!" She said to herself aloud as she fastened her laces, and picked up her stopwatch and mp3 player. After one last check of the route that she had printed off from her PC, she made her way downstairs for what should be roughly an eight mile run.
After half an hour of pounding on the road, Ronnie noticed the area around her was starting to look slightly shabby. After the clipped lawns of the campus, the overgrown yards of the bungalows and trailer homes she was now passing seemed incongruous. Twice she had caught the attention of, thankfully chained up, Pit Bull Terriers, Ronnie was starting to wonder upon the wisdom of this little jaunt.
She never even noticed the green Lexus coming towards her, and was not aware of the u-turn that it had made until it pulled up along side her; it's horn blasting over the music in her earplugs.
She watched warily as the passenger side window lowered, with not a little trepidation she approached the car and looked in through the now empty window frame.
She felt her face flush in a hot rush of blood when she saw the driver.
"Miss Monroe, please hop in will you?"
"Er...Principal Everard....I'm out for a little run." Ronnie replied, as butterflies swarmed through her tummy.
"No, really Miss Monroe, get in the car, please, I can assure you that you don't want to get lost in Austin." the principal firmly insisted.
Ronnie had a quick look around, chewing on her lower lip, she could see the sense in the principal's request and reluctantly nodded and opened the door. Even with the air conditioning blasting, Ronnie could still feel the heat in her face as she remembered her meeting with the principal two days earlier, then him reminding her didn't help matters.
"It's lucky in many ways that I bumped into you today," he said pleasantly, "you really shouldn't be running around here on your own. Austin is a great city, but I'm afraid it does have quite high crime rate! Also as I said on Friday I was hoping to have a little chat with you Veronica, I can call you Veronica can't I? Or do you prefer Miss Monroe?"
"Er...yeah that's fine...or call me Ronnie everyone else does."
"No, I don't like the fashion of shortening Christian names," he said turning to Ronnie with a mischievous smile on his face, "just think, Sam and Del, or Tony and Cleo just don't have the same ring to them do they?"
"Well when you put it that way......"
"As I said I hoped to chat next week, but I'm off on a trip out of town tonight for a week, so how about a coffee and a chat now?"
"Er...yes sir....that would be nice." Ronnie replied, her voice lacking conviction.
A couple of minutes later they pulled into a Sonic drive in, before she knew it they were sitting inside the coffee shop, and she was reeling off her life story to the attentive principal. He some how seemed to have the knack of drawing information, not by constant questions, but by lingering silences and little nods.
By the time, he came back from the counter with another round of coffees she was in her life story time line of her coming out to the states. Then she reached the shock of last Friday's paddling, now though she could talk about it without blushing like a virgin bride.
"You know sir, I have a theory about the corporal punishments?" Ronnie stated in a sudden rush of caffeine induced confidence.
"Really, I love theories, please tell me more." again the mischievous grin was back upon his face.
"Well! I'm convinced that if you didn't paddle the girls, there would only be about a quarter of them there on a Friday."
Principal Everard burst out laughing at Ronnie's unfortunate wording.
"Veronica, If I didn't paddle the girls, there would be none there on a Friday!"
"Ah...I meant that it was you...you personally that makes them....I'm not sure how to put it....seek out your approval and recognition."
The principal nodded.
"You may have a bit of a point there; it is something that I have sort of suspected that some may see me as a surrogate father figure whilst they are here."
"So if you already think that, why continue....I mean it's not right...young women paddled for being late to class!"
"First of all it is their choice," the principal said patiently, "it take three tardies in one week to earn a paddling. That is being late for three lectures, or handing in three assignments late. All the student has to do to avoid a paddling, is if she knows that she is going to be late for a lecture or seminar, is to just not go at all, and then play catch up on the work."
"It's about how a student's behaviour impacts upon others if a student is late it disrupts the lecture, people traipsing in whenever they like to. Much better for the students who are there on time, for the latecomer to just go down to the library or the study hall. You are not penalised for missing lectures, as the only person you are hindering is yourself."
Ronnie nodded as she tried to work out the college's strange logic, "Take yourself and Johanna, Mother Logan was quite happily turning a blind eye to your smoking and drinking in the privacy of your own room, it was when the music started blaring that she felt the need to take action!"
Now Ronnie felt that she at least partly understood the working of the punishment system, still she didn't agree with it, but at least she understood it.
"Work being handed in late though?" she asked.
"Why should one student, have the advantage over the others of having an extended time to do her allotted work? Also, it is disrespectful to the tutors, not having work in on time, most grading is done in the tutors private time, why should a tutor have to grade work on two nights instead of one?"
Ronnie nodded, as she could see where he was coming from; it was only the method that she disagreed with.
"Anyway Veronica, as much as I have enjoyed our little chat, and I have enjoyed it. I think it is time to get you safely back to campus!"
Ronnie looked at her stopwatch; they had been in the coffee shop for over an hour, not the ten minutes or so that it had felt like. Once back in her room she thought over the principal's words, it was all about mutual respect.
The following morning, Ronnie found out in no uncertain terms that Lucy Logan held those same views, and was more than happy to enforce them herself, proving once and for all that she was not the soft touch that Ronnie had first thought.
In almost all situations where people are sharing kitchen and storage facilities conflicts can, and usually do occur, for the most part the conflicts centre around who owns what in the fridge. The campus house blocks were not immune from such arguments.
Ronnie got up and dressed at six thirty am as was her usual habit, as she headed of to the kitchen to make her breakfast she heard raised voices.
"I've had it with this that was the last of my milk!" one voice called.
"Chill out I'll buy some at lunchtime it's no big deal!" the other replied as Ronnie entered the room.
"No big deal? What am I supposed to do now?" an annoyed sounding girl, that Ronnie believed to be called Helen, asked the much taller gangly blonde that Ronnie knew as Hunter.
"Yadda-yadda-yadda, Jeez do really have to be such a tight assed dickwad all the time!" replied Hunter rather noisily, "Can't you take at least one frigging day off?"
Ronnie then felt someone firmly push her to one side, forcing herself through the doorway in front of her, that person was Lucy Logan.
"I could hear you both all the way down the hall, people are trying to sleep you know," the annoyed house mother hissed in a half whisper to the two pajama clad girls, "and I can tell you that I heard every word!"
Ronnie could see the colour drain from Hunter's angular face; she looked as if she was about to speak when Lucy Logan cut in again.
"You, I will discuss this with later," she said pointing at Helen, "Hunter though I shall deal with here and now. Bad luck for you Hunter, Principal Everard, is away this week so it will be who will be dealing with your thieving, the shouting of obscenities and, of course your blasphemy!"
"Please Ma'am....could we do this later?" Hunter pleaded, almost in tears.
Lucy Logan moved forward and grabbed the taller girls left arm and spun her around, delivering four or five surprisingly hard smacks to her pajama covered bottom as she pushed her into a corner of the large kitchen.
"Veronica could you do me a little favour, please," Lucy asked, as she stood at the sink running the hot tap into a small saucepan. "go to my room, on the back of the door there is a leather belt hanging there. If you bring me that, and also the bar of soap off my hand basin please?"
Ronnie didn't have to be told twice, she found herself strangely excited at the thought of Hunter receiving some sort of summary punishment from the House mother. She almost ran down the corridor in her enthusiasm and curious expectation; her objections to corporal punishment had, temporarily at least, seemed to have deserted her!
The belt she could understand; the significance of the soap though?
Needless to say all the commotion had brought a few more of the girls out from their respective rooms, who all then wandered down towards the kitchen area, Ronnie knew now that whatever Lucy had in store for Hunter, they would be getting quite a large audience for
"OK girls," Lucy said to the now nine or so interested observers, "Hunter here has been caught, yet again, pilfering other students belongings from the refrigerators. This time though she has compounded the incident by indulging in a raucous argument with Helen. Helen I will be dealing with later, but Hunter as a way of an example to you all, I will deal with now. Thank you Veronica." she said as Ronnie handed Lucy her requested items, "I will not have thieving, fighting, or blasphemy in my house block, so let this be a warning to you all"
Lucy then placed the soap into the half filled saucepan, then took one the high stools from the breakfast bar by the window, and placed it in the centre of the room. Doubling up the thick leather belt in her hands she then said.
"Hunter over here.....over here now!"
The poor girl slowly made her way to the chair; her eyes focussed upon the tiled floor beneath her.
"Please...." she again moaned, more in self pity than in any real hope of a postponement of her punishment.
"Never mind, please, get those pj bottoms down!" Lucy ordered, her voice emphatic and pitiless.
Slowly the girl loosened the drawstring around her waist, both prolonging and simultaneously delaying her upcoming ordeal. As she lowered her trouser bottoms, Ronnie could see that Hunter was naked beneath them, the large black triangle of her bush came into view. Ronnie heard a couple of the girls snigger, so now it was common confirmed knowledge that Hunter was not a natural blonde.
The girls hands wavered in front of her pubic region in a belated attempt to cover her modesty, but already she knew that the cat was out of the bag so to speak, in oh so many ways.
"Over the stool Hunter," Lucy said calmly, but lacking the principals quite tenderness in her voice, "I'm going to give you a belting for you
to remember, then I'm going to address that potty mouth of yours!"
The soap suddenly now made sense to Ronnie, but surely she couldn't be really planning what had sprung to Ronnie's mind?
Lucy then stood back the doubled up belt in her right hand, no sooner had Hunter got in place, her bare bottom high upon the stool's seat and her legs parted widely giving all in the room a clear view of both her anus and labia, then the belt lashed across her thin boyish bottom.
Unlike the principals slow and measured paddling, Lucy brought down an onslaught of rapid harsh belt strokes. From the very first to the last, each stroke caused a visible, and audible discomfort to Hunter. Ronnie tried in vain to count the strokes, if only just to see how many Lucy was allotting to the poor girl.
After a minute or so it became clear to Ronnie that Lucy had no set tariff in her head, she was going to continue beating the girl until she fell in total submission. It became equally clear that Hunter was trying to save face with her peers and was determined not break underneath Lucy's belt!
Ronnie looked at Lucy's stony face, and knew that there was only going to one victor in this battle of wills and that it would not be Hunter. Sure enough after what must have been three minutes or so, but seemed so much longer to Ronnie and no doubt even longer to Hunter, Hunter finally broke. Her squeaks of pain were replaced by sobbing and cries for mercy as Lucy brought the ordeal to an end.
Throwing the belt to the floor Lucy then helped Hunter back up off the stool, the poor girl had given up on any attempts at modesty. She stood facing the others in the room, her hands rubbing at her bottom whilst she hopped from one foot to the other, desperately trying to massage and dance the pain out of her buttocks.
"Now we will see to that potty mouth of yours shall we?" the sobbing Hunter shook her head hoping to change Lucy's mind.
Lucy picked up the saucepan, plunged her hand into it's warm water and started to lather up the soap. Wide eyed; Hunter stared at the soap her head still shaking, her voice though still incapable of forming real words between her sobs.
"Open wide," was the quite order from Lucy, "it's nicely lathered for you now."
To Ronnie's surprise, Hunter nodded and did as she was told.
Lucy popped the bar of soap deep into Hunter's mouth, then said.
"Hands on top of your head, and back into the corner so all the girls can see your bare bottom as an example of how I deal with thieves!"
Hunter shuffled back into place, her pj bottoms around her ankles forcing her to make little baby like toddling steps.
Hunter was made to stay there whilst all the other girls had their breakfasts. Ronnie for all that she did not agree with corporal punishment had found the whole scenario both entertaining and worryingly exciting. Even to the point that when she made her toast and honey, she took up a seat that would give her an unhindered view of Hunter as she stood in the corner. Surreptitiously she kept glancing at Hunter, checking her out as the bruising on her bottom changed colour, till her buttocks reminded Ronnie of a Starbucks blueberry cheesecake a mass of yellow and purplely blue whirls.
Hunter was still there naked from the waist down; soap still locked in her jaws as Ronnie left for her first seminar of the week; she left with a distinct spring in her step.
Over the next few weeks things changed greatly for Ronnie, firstly she started to give Housemother Logan a wide berth, she had no intention of falling foul of one her summary disciplinary punishments. Ronnie had heard one other belting taking place in Lucy Logan's room, and heard of two others though none of the girls, even the recipients, seemed to complain about her actions. So she made every attempt to stay upon the Housemother's good side, or better still to keep contact with her to the bare minimum.
Also,things had changed for Richard Everard, in all his years of teaching he had never been attracted to any of his students. Of course as a hot blooded male, there were many that he had found physically attractive, more so when they were bent bare bottomed over his desk waiting for a paddling. Nearly every occasion had fired up the expected male physical reaction, but always he had just shrugged that off as human nature, and nothing more.
Veronica Monroe though was something different.
Here was a girl, well not a girl a young mature lady, who had more than caught his eye. Her personality and self assurance was so different to his other students, maybe it was the way she had worked herself through college with a definite goal in mind? Or maybe it was the way that she was so open, blunt even, in her opinions?
Whatever it was, it was causing Ronnie to be at the forefront of Richard's mind all the time that he was away from the college.
During this week away, Richard decided on one or two things that some of the other college faculty members may find shocking. Richard had reasoned with himself that, as a guest, Ronnie was not really a college student. So in her case the usual rules of teacher/student protocol, may not necessarily apply, in perhaps taking her out to dinner, or to concerts. If anything, all he would be doing, would be expanding her appreciation of what Texas and Austin had to offer!
His other plan though he knew would raise even more eyebrows, Mrs. Latham one of the Religion In Modern Literature tutors would be retiring next year. As Veronica already had a degree in English and Journalism, and would soon be finished her Divinities degree, he saw her, probably through rose tinted glasses, as being the ideal replacement for the retiring tutor.
All the college board realised that Mrs. Latham was becoming too stuck in her ways; a little too entrenched in her ideas. Certain books were just ignored by her as being an irrelevant fiction, such as The Da Vinci Code and Labyrinth, despite their huge popularity and cultural impact.
Richard was going to argue that Veronica with her relative youth would shake up the department and bring it out from the eighties and into the second millennium.
Of course, all this rested upon his power at being able to persuade Veronica to completely change, not only her previously chosen, career path, but also the very continent in which she would live!
So upon his return to college he set about trying to woo Veronica on two levels, personal and professional.
To his surprise Ronnie was quite receptive to his advances, and even though teaching was not an option that she had ever considered she said she was flattered by the offer and would give it careful consideration.
The fact of the matter was that Ronnie had been more flattered by Richard's more personal attention than any job offers. So they fell into a dating routine of sorts, going out together on weekend nights and usually a Wednesday night also. Though they didn't actively try to keep it secret, by the same token they did not advertise the fact either.
At first Ronnie thought that maybe Richard looked upon her as a potential "easy lay", after the first three or four dates it became obvious to her that this was not the case. Richard had been the perfect gentleman on the first date, taking her to dinner then a single chaste kiss at the end of the night!
By the fourth date, they progressed to necking in his car, necking, not heavy petting that seems to be a phrase nowadays that covers a multitude of sins. Their necking consisted of kissing and cuddling, nothing more though Ronnie could feel as she held Richard against her that he was physically ready for much more!
Richard made it quite clear in a round about way that he still - despite his divorce three years ago - believed in the sanctity of marriage, and that sex was to him was part of that of that holy institution.
Ronnie for her part looked upon this as an admiral attitude, and now wished that she had stuck by her guns and not given herself so casually and had waited till her wedding night, but that was all in her past, and there was nothing she could do about now.
She often wondered was Richard hinting that if she stayed in the States that a marriage could be on the cards for them. Of course there was the age difference, it was hard to work out how old Richard was.
Facially he looked quite old, his greying hair adding to that look, but his eyes seemed so young and sparkly, and his body toned through all his gym time. He had to be at least sixteen years Ronnie's senior though, maybe even twenty; it was just something that never really came up in conversation. Richard never mentioned his age, and Ronnie thought it rather rude to ask!
Then things changed again; the ball started rolling when Richard suggested to Ronnie that rather than going out on a Wednesday night, one week, they should go out on the Thursday. One of the nightclubs on Sixth Avenue was having an acoustic Blues night/local wines promotion that he was sure that she would enjoy.
Enjoy it she did, whether it was the amount of Texan wine that she had consumed, or just the very late night that made her sleep in the next morning she was not really sure. Though her throbbing head, did give her a little clue.
Either way she was late to her first lecture by seven minutes and collected her first tardy!
Needless to say, she sped around campus the rest of the day, for all that she was looking forward to seeing Richard again, she certainly did not want it to be a Friday afternoon appointment!
The next week went without any more dramas; they went out on the Wednesday night for dinner after Ronnie had wrapped up her assignment for Mrs. Latham on Richard's computer then saving it to a USB memory stick to print off the following morning. That night followed their now well worn pattern; dinner followed by a little necking in Richard's Lexus before departing for their separate beds.
The next day Ronnie ran about like a headless chicken; she couldn't find her USB stick anywhere; she knew that she had slipped it into her jacket pocket before they had left Richard's house the previous evening. Slowly it dawned upon her that it must have fallen out of her pocket whilst they had a kiss and a cuddle in Richard's car!
She ran across campus to Richard's office, catching him just as he was coming into the building, in a state of panic she explained why she needed his car keys. She found the USB stick lying on the floor in the passenger foot well, she rushed back with Richard's keys then galloped across campus to the lecture hall, all to no avail, she was twenty minutes late by Mrs. Latham's reckoning.
So Ronnie collected a tardy, "at least last weeks have run out now" she thought to herself as she sighed in resignation at her tutor's castigation.
"of course you also get another tardy," Mrs. Latham added, with to Ronnie's mind a rather smug smile upon her face.
"Your course work was late also, so that is two tardies!"
"The reason I was late was to go back and get my course work!" not so much a lie Ronnie reasoned with herself, more a slight bending of the truth.
"Well for all I know, you could have been using the extra twenty minutes to finish off your work," the irate tutor said then added, "after a late night out perhaps?"
"Did she know?" Ronnie thought to herself, or was this just her normal picky sarcasm? Either way it was not worth arguing the toss, it wouldn't look very good her getting involved in an argument with the very woman who's post she had been offered. So Ronnie accepted the second tardy, though none to gracefully.
Ronnie knew now that she would have now have tread carefully for the rest of the day, and all day tomorrow as well to avoid the condemning third tardy.
Later that evening back in her room watching video clips on her laptop she was interrupted by a sharp knock upon her door. When Ronnie opened the door, she was met by the diminutive figure of Lucy Logan holding a clipboard.
"Sheesh girl, you must really like the old Texan with the lexan." she said as she handed Ronnie a pink slip.
"No, there has been a mistake Ma'am, this can't be for me!"
"Fraid so chick, three tardies and an appointment in the room of doom!"
"I haven't got three though....it's only two...two this morning." Ronnie said; her voice now filled with doubt.
"Sorry girlie, I don't know how it works for you Brits but over here a week has seven days," Lucy said as she handed Ronnie the dreaded paddling order.
"I thought that it worked....."
"Seven days in a week, you missed out by one day," Lucy said to remind Ronnie of how the calendar works, "you know the routine."
After Lucy had left her, Ronnie stared at the pink slip in her hands, she was right of course all three tardies had fallen within seven days.
Still though it didn't mean that she would get paddled, Richard could always intervene on her behalf, after all it was in his power to do so. He could if he wished, allow his personal feelings to intervene upon his professional ones, if he did though what would that say about him?
The next morning as Ronnie got dressed she wasn't thinking of the day at college, she was thinking of her afternoon appointment. She remembered that her for her first visit she couldn't recall what underwear she was wearing before she bent across his desk. This time she took great care in her choice, a pair of white Sloggi maxi briefs with a nice lace edging around the waistband. No tights, or ankle socks, a pair of light tan hold up stockings would provide a perfect frame as she lifted her skirt, though, of course, it would never come to that.
It was strange really, for all that the day seemed to drag; it also seemed that in no time at all she was heading towards Richard's office. At least this time she already had her pink slip, so there was no need to stop off at the secretary's office, all she had to do was walk past trying not to acknowledge their knowing smiles.
As she walked down the short narrow corridor, she noticed that there were already two girls sitting there, shoes already off and tucked beneath their chairs. Ronnie joined them in silence, sitting down and then bending forward an unloosening her shoes and also tucking her's under her seat.
As they sat there waiting another three girls arrived all in the same silence they followed Ronnie in the removal of shoes ceremony.
"Evardashians!" Ronnie thought to herself, automatically looking upon the other five girls as rivals to her for Richard's attention.
Richard's door then opened, his tall, broad figure filling the whole doorway, then his eyes locked with Ronnie's a look of confusion crossed his face, but then he seemed to catch himself and spoke.
"They say that the first shall be last," his voice still a bit uncertain. "so I think we we have you three girls in first shall we?"
Richard pointed at the three newcomers, who rose as one and followed him into his room.
Ronnie waited and listened, her eyes closed as she imagined the proceedings on the other side of the door.
She thought of one of the girls leaning forward over his desk, lifting up her skirt revealing her panties all for his delectation.
She then thought of him leaning over, his hands going to her waistband and then pulling down her panties baring her bottom and her feminine charms to his gaze as he did so.
She was jealous of the girl, which ever one of the three that it was, not jealous of the pain that she was about to receive, but jealous of that intimate touch, that intimate touch that she had been waiting for over the last few weeks.
The noise of the paddle landing, and the shriek of the girls cry in of pain made Ronnie open her eyes. Now it was time to count off the pops, it would be a minimum of nine, three for each girl unless some had drummed up extra pops for multiple pink slips.
As she listened and counted, it became obvious to Ronnie that the girls in the secretary's office would be able to hear clear each and every paddling that took place in Richard's office. She felt her cheeks redden at the idea of these young fresh out of school teens listening to her, a twenty four year old woman, having her bare bottom smacked!
Her mind then wandered further; she thought of how ironic it was to be offered a job as a tutor here one week, then be sent for a smacked bum the next week. As she tried to sort out in her mind if that was actually irony, or a paradox, she could feel an unwanted smile cross her face.
As she tried not to smile, the whole ridiculousness of her situation struck her causing her to burst out giggling. She looked at her fellow two condemned in waiting and saw the look of disgust upon their faces. She wanted to try and explain that she wasn't laughing at the paddlings taken place in the office, but she knew she couldn't break the rule of silence. So she made do by just mouthing.
"it's just I'm very nervous!" both girls merely sneered at her.
A couple of minutes after the twelfth pop echoed down the corridor; the door to the office opened and the first three girls emerged. Two very red faced one of whom had made use of Richard's complimentary paper tissues. The third girl though, a thick set Latina, had a look of sweet serenity upon her face the afterglow of a spiritual or orgasmic experience.
"Well ladies, I think it's time to see your rap sheets now." Richard said, as Ronnie and her two fellow offenders rose to their feet.
Richard slowly read the three pinks slips as the girls stood in front of his desk.
"Miss Monroe," he finally spoke, "two tardies in one class, how come?"
"Mrs. Latham decreed that as I was late so was my assignment?" Ronnie replied with an amount palpable of doubt in her voice.
"Mmmmh....an odd way to look at things," Richard said, "I suppose she is right though isn't she?"
"Strictly speaking yes." Ronnie said through gritted teeth.
"Well shall we begin...." as soon as those words left Richard's mouth, Ronnie stepped forward cutting him short.
"I was the last out of us three," she said matter of factly, "so I must be first!"
Before Richard could either agree or interject, Ronnie had lain herself over his desk and pulled up the hem of her pale blue skirt.
As his fingers went to the waistband of her knickers, she knew then that he was indeed going to paddle her. No using of his powers or influence to pardon her!
As he lowered her knickers, Ronnie parted her legs that little bit wider knowing that she would be affording him a view so far unseen by him.
Then she waited for that first pop, would he go easy on her that was still well within his power after all no one would ever know for sure.
She then felt the slap of the lexan paddle upon her rear, quickly followed by that now all to familiar build up of searing heat!
The second pop followed; it was plain now to Ronnie that she was not going to experience any favouritism from her suitor. It would have been so easy for him as well; he didn't even have to just go easy on her and make it obvious, he could have dealt with all three of them in a similar manner, and no one would then ever have suspected.
The third pop landed central across her naked bottom, now the room was being viewed by Ronnie through misty eyes as she tried in vain to hold back her tears.
As she rose up from the desk, she turned to face Richard, raising her skirt high as she pulled up her white briefs, making sure that he got a good long view of her trimmed pubic triangle before she covered herself.
Standing back in line, watching him chastise the other girls, she wondered about what had just taken place.
It would have been oh so easy for him to have excused her.
So easy for him to have paddled her lightly.
So easy for a man in his position to have used his rank to his own advantage.
So easy for any man, apart from for a man like him, a man of honour.
Ronnie had now made up her mind; she was going to stay in Austin, for better or for worse!