Harsh Reality

The first of three parts, with Wendy Collings as Jennifer, from Uniform Girls 20

‘Girl!’ The tall woman spoke in clear measured tones, though the sibilance of her voice whispered in echoes around the bare gaunt room. Jennifer stood in front of her, her hands clenched behind her back, and then to her front, until she was told, quietly but firmly, to place them at her side. ‘What did you enter this establishment wearing?’

Jennifer tried to find her voice. ‘Well?’ The woman waited. ‘…jeans… and a tee-shirt… and…’ The list petered out. ‘And what else?’ Jennifer pouted, embarrassed and reluctant to talk. ‘…socks…’

The woman stepped towards her, turning her, propelling her forwards against the simple wooden table. A firm hand pressed down against the girl’s back, pushing her over and down across the table-top. ‘You were wearing knickers, weren’t you? Silly transparent flimsy knickers. They hardly covered this fat round bottom of yours.’ Jennifer felt a sharp finger prod at her bottom-flesh just below the dreadful regulation pants she had been made to wear.

The woman continued. ‘When you arrived and I had taken your… your trousers away from you, most of your bottom was bare and uncovered.’ She leaned forward slightly, lifted up one leg of the pants and tugged them upwards, exposing the roundness of one bare bottom-cheek. She slapped its wobbly expanse, firmly, the loud impact echoing around the bare walls.

‘Such attire speaks of flippancy and wantonness. But if you wish your bottom to be bared, we shall certainly oblige.’

The woman released her grip on the girl, and the pants fell back into place.

‘Stand up. Remain facing the table. I shall return to deal with you, later.’ Jennifer stood still, though her limbs were trembling. She could hear footsteps traversing the room. The door closed with a precise click. Suddenly, tears welled up in the young woman’s eyes. She reached behind her, touching the reddened patch of bottom-flesh, tugging the pants downwards slightly, trying to make them feel more comfortable.

The first hours here at the establishment had been so dreadful. Of course, most of the other students had left. For all intents and purposes the place was closed. But the very senior and most experienced members of staff had been retained. To deal with Jennifer and a few others. That’s exactly what they’d told her. ‘We are remaining here in residence, as requested, to deal with you.’ They had made her stand in the centre of the room, and then they had undressed her, insisting that she removed her tight faded blue jeans, and her tee-shirt, and then even her bra and her knickers. ‘We are very experienced at dealing with intransigent girls,’ they had warned her, as she stood there, naked.

Later, they had made her dress. ‘No brassiere,’ the woman had ordered. But they had let her slip into her tee-shirt. And then this man had produced these awful heavy pants. They reminded her, immediately, of her earliest schooldays, before the days of flimsy lightweight elasticated panties. These dreadful things were expansive, and they made her bottom look enormous.

They had made her put her hands on her head. And then this woman had produced some braces, the sort which could clip onto any sort of cloth. Firmly, they hitched up her baggy pants until they were tightly insinuated around her most intimate curves; and they were all distorted. All that they did emphasise was her bottom. Every wobbly fleshy inch of it.

Later, much later, the woman returned. She was carrying a cane. A long thin whippy cane which she swished through the air as she talked. ‘I am going to cane you, Jennifer. Right across your big bare bottom. I am going to cane you as hard as I can.’ She tapped the very end of the cane against the girl’s pants. ‘But first we shall talk a little about your appalling past behaviour.’

Jennifer noticed for the first time that someone had provided this dreadful woman with some notes about her. The woman was looking at them, reading them, reminding herself of certain details. ‘How many years ago did you leave school?’ In the heat and tension of the moment, Jennifer honestly couldn’t remember. ‘Three years ago, young lady, when you were sixteen.’ Once again, the tall woman consulted the neat typewritten notes. ‘You left school against the wishes of your family, didn’t you?’ Jennifer found herself nodding. The woman turned the notes towards the girl. ‘This is a copy of your final school report, young lady. It makes appalling reading.’ The woman began to read through a long list of comments listed by the concerned staff of Jennifer’s final school.

‘And what of the incidents not mentioned here?’ Jennifer stared back at the woman with a genuinely puzzled expression across her face. ‘We have spoken to people who knew you, Jennifer. And they have told us all about you…’

With frightened eyes, Jennifer watched the woman reach out to pick up the cane again. The girl had never seen a real cane before. And she had never felt it across her big round bottom. ‘You were a callous bully at school, weren’t you?’ It was an accusation, not a question. Jennifer tried to deny it. ‘You bullied the smaller girls, didn’t you? Laughed at them, didn’t you?’ Jennifer had never felt quite so frightened before. Of course she remembered. But now, she couldn’t explain why she’d done it.

‘So what makes you so perfect?’ The woman pressed a long hard finger into the girl’s side. The woman grasped the taut elasticated braces and pulled them back, only to release them. The elastic snapped back against Jennifer’s right breast. ‘Bullies disgust me, young lady.’

Once again the woman turned Jennifer until she was facing back towards the table. She took hold of the girl’s hands, raising them, placing them upon that silly, childish beret. ‘Keep your hands aloft.’ And then the woman unclipped those braces. ‘Yes. I am going to cane you, Jennifer. I am going to punish your bare bottom.’ Jennifer shivered as she felt the woman’s long bony fingers slip down under her pants, the knuckles pressing against her soft bottom-flesh. And then, so nonchalantly, with the experience and practice of so many years, the woman bared Jennifer’s bottom.

‘Repeat after me, young lady… my bottom is fat…’ Poor Jennifer stuttered a form of reply. ‘… And I am going to be caned…’ Jennifer’s weak voice finally faltered. For the very first time, the senior tutor almost lost her poise and her patience. ‘My God. You creatures are despicable! For all the suffering you caused, I am going to cane you!’

Without further ceremony, Jennifer was placed firmly across the cold wooden table. The woman kicked the girl’s feet apart until she was satisfied with the girl’s stance. ‘Keep your chest pressed flat against the desk, young lady.’ Jennifer obeyed, now unable to question any order or command. Her bottom protruded fully, tightly rounded, her legs parted, perfectly presented.

The cane whistled through the air and cracked emphatically right across the fullness of both buttocks. Jennifer screamed sharply and shrilly. A large cold hand prevented her from staggering to her feet. Again the cane was raised and again it sizzled through the cold air, stinging down across the upturned bottom. Jennifer’s bottom wobbled, and she squealed loudly. Two angry red tramlines snaked dramatically across the full width of the girl’s bottom.

Four more times the stick was raised. Never before had Jennifer experienced such pain and humiliation. She wriggled and kicked, and demonstrated to the older woman that she was simply a naughty girl in the guise of a grown young woman.

When finally the woman released her grip on the cane, Jennifer was sobbing.

‘Oh pull yourself together, you silly girl,’ was the only response. ‘And if you really believe you do not deserve this ‘training’ we are offering, then you are free to leave, at any time.’ The woman took hold of the sobbing girl and escorted her to the hallway, gripping her firmly by the seat of the pants, she propelled her forwards towards the main doorway.

‘You may leave… Now… If you wish…?’

But of course, Jennifer couldn’t do that. Quietly, she turned towards the staircase, and, falteringly, climbed the many steps towards the little room which was her temporary bedroom. She collapsed, face down upon the bedcovers and cried into the counterpane.

To be continued in The Punishment Fits the Crime…