Harsh Discipline

The concluding part, from Uniform Girls 20, following on from Harsh Reality and The Punishment Fits the Crime.

Jenny stepped out of the bath and. wrapped the towel around her. It was coarse and rough. She dabbed her pink skin gently, thankful for the privacy that the bathtime had afforded her. She had quite expected one of those dreadful staff members to stand beside her; watching her as she bathed, his or her steady studious eyes staring at her body, particularly at her bare bottom. But they had seen her bottom on so many occasions over the past days. Like when that man had up-ended her and tanned her with his hand, just because he said she had pouted at him; and he had virtually ripped her knickers down in his haste to bare her curvy bottom-cheeks.

And then that woman had introduced her to the strap. Such an innocent-looking strip of leather, slit lengthways at one end. But lying face-down across her sofa in the woman’s private quarters, Jennifer’s bare rump took the full force of the leather, and felt those thin fingers flicking painfully into very intimate places. Her mother had been there. She had actually sat there clutching her handbag, smiling, as her daughter had been tanned. When Jennifer had been able to stand, she had turned to face her mother. She still appeared to be the very grown-up young lady that she was in her physical appearance. Her figure was firm and amply proportioned, and her mother’s eyes fluttered briefly all over her bare daughter. But a naughty little girl was also standing there in front of her mother; and in front of those wise, experienced tutors who knew how to deal with naughty children.

When she was dry, Jennifer tiptoed quietly along the corridor and back to the sanctuary of her bedroom. With the door closed, she almost felt safe. Away from those people with their canes and straps and slippers. But she knew that this time, the room would offer no safe haven. ‘Get upstairs.’ The woman had ordered. ‘Get bathed and wait in your room.’ And just as the girl had reached the door of their office, ‘And don’t bother to get dressed after your bath…’

Jennifer stood in the bedroom and twisted her head around, hoping to discover the present state of her bottom. Both her buttocks were gently pink in their complexion, as a result of the time she had spent in the warm scented water of the bath. But deeper crimson marks could just be seen, the marks of that last caning. She ran her hand over one of her buttocks, and felt the marks; and then she realised just how tenderised the bath must have made her bottom. Hurriedly, she picked up the bath-towel and wrapped it around her.

‘Don’t bother with your towel, young lady.’ The woman’s sibilant tones echoed around the room. ‘Put that towel down… now.’ The senior tutor remained in the doorway. ‘Now get on your bed. Kneel up. Put your hands on your head.’ By now, Jennifer had learnt how to obey orders. She almost ran to the bed, and climbed on top of it, kneeling as upright as she could. And then the woman’s awful questions began again. ‘Why are your nipples so erect, Jennifer?’ The question only served to send a prickle of embarrassment through the girl’s body, and she was aware that her breasts were feeling very firm, and her nipples were protruding so much further than usual. ‘Do your boyfriends like your breasts like this?’ There was a taste of real venom in the voice. ‘What do your boyfriends do with you, Jennifer?’ Are you really old enough, Jennifer?’

The woman looked her up and down archly. ‘Well, you can kneel there on your bed and think about your misdeeds.’ She smiled. ‘And when I come back, I shall probably thrash your fat little bottom.’ She turned on her heel and left Jennifer there to contemplate her fate.

At last, the woman returned. She walked slowly into the room and towards the bed. Her eyes remained cool and steady, and they studied Jennifer, still bare, and still perched upon the bedclothes. ‘Do remind me how you taunted the other girls, Jennifer? When you discovered that they were seeing boys? What did you do to them, Jennifer?’

Slowly and painfully, Jennifer answered the questions. She admitted the mental torture which she had given to the girls in her charge. The senior tutor moved even nearer. She waved the cane in the air, just a few inches from the girl’s bare flesh. ‘Did your father ever cane you, Jennifer?’ She shook her head. ‘How did your father deal with your bottom?’ The girl lowered her head. ‘He smacked my bottom and sometimes… he used his… his slipper…’

‘But you have not felt a slipper or a hand across your bare bottom recently, have you?’ Jennifer shook her head. Not until your visit here?’ The girl shook her head again. ‘So we have much to correct, haven’t we?’ The girl’s eyes were fixed upon the thin whippy cane which hovered in the air above her. Her flesh felt so soft and vulnerable, as if the bath had made her body that much more sensitive. But suddenly the woman dropped the cane and sat down on the edge of the bed. ‘Across my knee, young lady.’ She reached forward and wrapped her arm around Jennifer’s body, hauling her face-down across her lap. ‘Further forward, my dear, so that I can smack every inch of your big bottom.’ Her cold hand grasped the girl and lifted her forward over her lap until her bottom was prominently exposed and bent so vulnerably, ready for punishment. ‘I feel a good hand-smacking is so much more intimate, don’t you?’ The question was accompanied by a firm smack which caught Jennifer off guard. She gasped and jerked herself forward, but the woman’s firm hold simply held her tightly in position. ‘I am going to smack your bottom until you can’t sit down, young lady.’ It was a promise made with quiet, confident intent; and to endorse her words, the woman brought her hard palm down in a cracking impact across the girl’s other buttock. The girl received the smack with a loud ‘Oooh.’ The next smack brought forth a more urgent gasp, and within a few further seconds, the girl was yelling, pleading with the woman not to smack her any more.

But the smacks continued. Time and again, the mature, strong woman raised her hand and smacked the wobbling pinkening buttocks of the young upstart. Quite involuntarily, Jennifer began to kick out against the cool air as the smacks arrived. ‘Good,’ whispered the mistress. ‘So your bottom is beginning to hurt. I do so like to see a naughty girl begin to kick. It indicates that the smacking is at last getting through to her.’ Jennifer hardly heard the woman’s words. Her eyes were closed, her legs were waving about, threshing the air quite wildly, and she was concentrating only on how to cope with the burning rash of pain which was radiating across her bottom-cheeks. ‘Did you kick about like this when your father disciplined you?’ The woman was watching as the girl’s bottom and thighs began to buck, up and down, in the rhythm of the spanking. ‘My word. You are a naughty young lady.’ It was only too obvious from the secrets the girl was unwillingly revealing, that Jennifer was no longer a little girl. Physically at least, she was a big grown-up girl. But even big girls need their bottoms smacked. ‘Some of my colleagues feel that a hand-smacking…’ She paused in her new dissertation to apply yet another meaty slap across the girl’s cheeks. ‘…that a hand-smacking is not effective on girls above the age of… eighteen.’ Jennifer’s age was accompanied by another smack. ‘Personally… SMACK… I find a good firm hand-smacking… SMACK… very effective… SMACK… especially when applied… SMACK… to some mother’s bare delinquent… SMACK… daughter…’

Eventually, Jennifer became aware that the spanking had ceased. She lay still for a while, hardly daring to hope that it was now over. And as she turned, intending to lift herself away from the woman’s lap, she felt the firm bony hand again. ‘Stay still, young lady, and contemplate your behaviour, whilst I contemplate your bottom.’ Jennifer’s strength and will collapsed. She fell back down, draped unceremoniously across the mistress’s tweed skirts, hardly caring now that she was naked, and her bottom was stinging, and that she was still so close to this dreadful woman.

Some minutes later, the woman had patted the reddened bottom, watching the punished cheeks twitch and wobble in response to her touch. ‘Get up. Stay on the bed.’ The woman waited as the girl struggled to kneel up, and then she stood up, turning immediately to watch Jennifer. ‘Stay on your knees, but bend forward. Rest on your elbows so that your bottom is raised…’ She waited, and insisted on adjusting the girl’s position until her body was quite tautly bent, her pretty head resting low against her arms, her bottom pushed out in a provocative and totally lewd manner. ‘And now the caning, Jennifer. All over your bare bottom…’

Yet again, the evil cane was brought into action. How it whistled and sizzled through the air as it raced down to kiss the girl’s crimson cheeks. And how the girl sang in her response as she felt the cane’s kiss. ‘We have so much to put right, Jennifer.’ The cane arrived again. ‘So much to correct.’ A third stroke fell, and whipped its way across both cheeks. ‘It will take so long to put things right…’