Join the Dots…

From Blushes 36

She shivered. It wasn’t cold but it didn’t have to be when you were standing there without your dress, or your slip. Her body bare, apart from her shoes. Her shiny, black 3-inch-heeled courts.

She took a tentative step to the banister. The large square hall below, empty now for it was Saturday afternoon. No one would be here on Saturday afternoon. No one except… she glanced round. The emptiness was eerie. She had only seen it before during the week when it was full of noisy, jostling students. But now…

Another shiver. The soft, bare undersides of her thighs trembling. The woman’s angry, frightening eyes. She could see them. ‘Do you want to be expelled, Miss? Kicked out this very afternoon? I can, you know.’

She had thought she was going to. She had been in tears. Pleading. She wasn’t listening, or didn’t seem to be. But finally Mrs Grayfield said it. ‘If I don’t kick you out, Miss, you’ll get something that will be even worse. You’ll wish I had kicked you out. You’ll be pleading to be kicked out.’

No. Nothing could be worse than that. ‘Anything!’ she begged.

Her face, the still angry eyes, had come close. ‘A strapping then, young lady. If I don’t kick you out it’ll be a strapping on your bare bottom.’

She glanced around again. Was she here yet? She had given her a key to the Medical Room. She wasn’t there when she arrived ten minutes ago but she had gone in and done what she had said. ‘If you’re not how I want you I shall kick you out anyway, Samantha. Take all your things off in the medical room and wait outside on the balcony.’ Was she really going to strap her? Her mind had difficulty in accepting the enormity of the idea, in accepting that it could really happen. The idea of being kicked out of college was real enough though. A girl had been expelled last year.

No one knew she was here and no one would come in on a Saturday afternoon. But what if someone did? The caretaker? No, he wouldn’t, the only one would be Mrs Grayfield. Being punished of course wasn’t official, it would be embarrassing for her if anyone knew so she wouldn’t want anyone to know. But being kicked out was official and above board: she could do that, she knew, if she wanted to. For what she had done. If she hadn’t been so desperate she would never have dreamt of it. She wouldn’t have dreamt of it anyway if Joanne hadn’t said it, as a joke. ‘Have a look at the papers then. They’re there in her office and that cupboard’s probably not locked at lunchtime.’

Joanne had only said it as a joke and Samantha would never have thought of it as anything else except that not having done any work she was really desperate, ready to do any desperate thing. She had been there at the cupboard. It hadn’t been locked, but Mrs Grayfield had come in. That was just her luck, to try such a thing and then be caught red-handed, because Mrs Grayfield normally never went in there at lunchtime, she knew. But when she turned… her face… her eyes wide… for a second unbelieving… and then…

She arrived as she was standing there at the bannister, the stairs creaking as she came up.

Standing close, not speaking, her eyes going over her. Samantha looked past her, not wanting to meet those eyes. They were not angry now. What were they? She was going to enjoy it probably. The way the woman looked her up and down — she was going to enjoy it.

‘Good.’ Speaking at last. ‘Here we are then, young lady. Been strapped before, have you?

Shaking her head. Feeling sick.

‘Turn round. Stand up straight. That’s it.’ Her hand sharply smacked her bare thigh at the back, stinging and making her jerk away. The contact, flesh against flesh, was an abrupt reminder of her nude state. She whimpered.

‘Spread your arms out. Along the bannister. And bend over. Get your head down.’

She did it. Her head hanging down into space. The feeling of nausea increased. Mrs Grayfield’s hand was at her bottom.

‘I’m going to make you wish you were being expelled, Miss. I’m going to make this so hot you won’t want to sit on it for a week. I’m really going to teach you a lesson.’ Two, then three strokes of a thick, painful strap, and Samantha was gulping back sobs.

There was no point pleading with her. She had agreed to this, had wanted it, rather than being kicked out, and it had to be better, anything was better than that…

‘Into the Medical Room, Samantha. We’ll have you stretched out along the bed, shall we? Bottom nice and high?’ Another sharp smack propelled the girl into the little room. The door shut, and Mrs Mayfield was there behind her. Smiling.