Usherettes (3)

The third instalment, from Blushes Supplement 3

At a local theatre in the London suburbs, the manager Roger Weaver was lucky enough to have a pool of willing labour as usherettes: the students at the nearby drama school. The fact that he chose to recruit principally the girls was no accident. Not only did they work harder, as they were keen to participate in the theatre world — even as usherettes — to watch professionals perform on stage. Perhaps more importantly for Roger, it gave him the occasional opportunity to indulge his penchant for giving some of the girls’ backsides what he euphemistically called ‘a good whacking’.

In previous issues, we met Cecilia who, after losing £10 of programme money (with a little help from a dishonest colleague, Becky) was given the option of corporal punishment to avoid dismissal. Cecilia’s bare bottom was subsequently spanked with a wooden brush and in a later session, in front of a hidden invited audience, was given eight strokes with Roger’s canes.

The pain and humiliation of those two episodes made Cecilia determined to find out who had set her up, and this can only lead to 17-year-old Becky getting her come-uppance in the traditional manner!

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The marks of the caning she had received three days ago were still a vivid reminder to Cecilia as she lifted the long shirt she wore to bed and. turned round to inspect her bottom in the bedroom mirror. The purpling bruises ran the full width of her buttocks from hip to hip, the eight strokes plainly visible. Only two of them intersected other strokes: the remainder were in geometrically parallel lines reaching from just above the crease with her thighs to halfway up her bottom. The fact that Roger had concentrated the punishment on the fleshiest part of her cheeks was perhaps the only consolation. Cecilia bent over and looked back in the mirror: the sight of her unjustly caned bottom strengthened her resolve to discover who had picked up the £10 she had so carelessly dropped.

Back at the theatre that night, Cecilia was in a huddle with her two closest friends, neither of whom had been on duty when Becky had picked up the £10 note and slipped it into her change pouch. However, they’d been doing some investigating of their own, and Sammie — the youngest usherette at 16 — had let slip that Becky had bought everyone a drink in the pub over the road after the show the same night that Cecilia had been short on her programme money. And she’d paid with a stained £10 note!

‘This could be the biggest mistake that little toad made,’ said Angela to Cecilia and Terri as they discussed what they could do to trap Becky into admitting she’d stolen the money.

‘I reckon we should just confront her with it tonight,’ Terri concluded, ‘the only way is to make sure she knows that we all know she did it, and she’s not going to get away with it!’

‘You’re right, Tel: I can’t wait to get my hands on her: but what are we going to do about it? Can we afford to report her to Roger, or shall we just…?’ Angela was interrupted by Cecilia’s hissed whisper: ‘Or give her a little dose of what I got, that’s what!’

‘You’re right, Cessie, we’ll give her bum what’s for. I could get a cane from props at college, ‘cos we’ll never be able to lay our hands on Roger’s little collection. They’re always locked in that cupboard in the programme room. I know he’s got a strap in there too: Sammie saw him putting it away when she got here early for a matinee. Just as well he didn’t see her or it could have been a red bum too!’

Terri nodded slowly, and the others signalled their agreement.

After the show’s curtain was up and the girls had been back to check in their unsold programmes and money, Terri, Cecilia and Angela hung about on the stairs leading up to the programme room to wait for Becky. She wasn’t long coming. Her light steps skipped down the stairs, until she rounded the corner and was brought up with a start by the three girls blocking the way down.

‘Ah, here comes our little friend,’ said Cecilia, ‘Hello Rebecca, dear!’

Becky’s eyes widened with fear as she sensed the tone of Cecilia’s greeting. The stance of Terri and Angela gave her all the warning signs she needed to feel a rising sense of panic.

‘What do you want Cessie, I’ve got to go and see Roger. He’s expecting me…’ her voice trailed off unconvincingly.

‘I hear you were very generous in the pub last week and bought a round for everyone, Becky. That was nice of you.’ Cecilia paused. ‘But where did you get the money to pay for the round, eh?’

‘From my dad, of course, he came down on Thursday and gave me a little extra,’ blurted Becky, her voice rising in pitch as she saw she was in danger.

‘Ah yes, of course,’ continued Angela in soft tones, ‘but Cessie was unfortunate enough to lose a £10 note that night. The same night you paid for a round with a £10 note. Strange, isn’t it?’

‘Well, hardly, Ang, there’s more than one £10 note in circulation, you know,’ replied Becky, her voice calmer now as she realised they didn’t have conclusive proof.

‘But not that many £10 notes with a big green felt-tip stain on them, Rebecca,’ said Cecilia, spitting out the girl’s name, ‘and that was the same one I took from that old guy who wanted four programmes. A grubby tenner with a bloody great stain on it. Do you know what happened to me because of what you did, you little sod?’

‘No,’ came the answer, though Becky had guessed what had been the result of her theft and was getting the drift of their intention for revenge.

‘Well, Becky, I’ll tell you,’ continued Cecilia, leaning against the wall. ‘Roger was going to sack me, but he was willing to offer a way out. A rather painful one, but a way out nevertheless. Are you getting my drift?’

‘Well, I…’

‘Well, nothing. Have you ever been beaten, Becky?’

‘Beaten? What, at school? The slipper or something?’

‘Or something. Yes.’

‘Well, no, not really. I got spanked by my aunt down in Devon once. But not beaten,’ replied Becky nervously.

‘Well, I was. And it was because of you, you little cow. Roger had me over his knee for a dose of the hairbrush on the bare bum that same night. And on Saturday…’

Cecilia turned her back on Becky, and with two swift tugs pulled corduroy jeans and knickers down clear of her bottom. ‘… he gave me this!’ she lifted the uniform smock up above her waist to expose her backside.

Becky’s eyes were drawn inexorably to the bare bottom now presented to her, taking in the deep welts caused by the cane, and the purpling tramlines in all their precision.

‘Eight strokes, Becky. I had to strip and bend over for eight strokes. Bare.’ She paused, ‘Anything to say?’ as she pulled her knickers and cords back up and snapped the clip at the waist.

Becky now realised there was no way she could bluff her way out of this one. She’d really been so bloody careless.

‘I’m sorry, Cess, really, I had no idea.’

‘Then that’ll give you an idea of what’s in store for your little bum, won’t it?’ asked Angela sneeringly.

Becky gulped. She hadn’t anticipated this.

‘But you can’t… well, cane me. I’ll give you the money back Cessie, but you can’t cane me. Please.’ The pleading look in Becky’s face brought a slight smile to Cecilia’s.

‘Ah, but we can Becky. Because otherwise we’ll just tell Roger what you did.’

Becky hadn’t been totally honest when she had said that she’d only been spanked as a youngster. For it had been only last term that she’d been awarded four with Roger’s cane for handing out free programmes to friends which she then recorded as ‘press’ programmes. But that had been on her knickers, and it wasn’t too bad. Not too good either, but bearable.

Becky could now ill-afford to be exposed to Roger, for there was little doubt that she’d be out the same day — and God knows she needed the money. Being punished by the girls wasn’t such an unreasonable alternative…

‘Well, I don’t seem to have any option: what’s your plan?’ asked Becky.

‘Our plan is to give your bare backside a little artistic decoration with a cane. Tomorrow night, up in the programme room, between the matinee and evening shows. And you’d better be there,’ said Angela.

‘Does it have to be the cane?’ asked Becky. ‘It’s just that I’m doing that modern dance sequence at college this weekend, and the leotard costume is so high cut half my bum hangs out. And old Mooney won’t let any of us wear tights: I’m even going to have to shave some of my pubes so I’m decent from the front. Don’t you have something which doesn’t mark quite as much… I’ll take more whacks, but it’s the marks I’m worried about. I don’t really want the audience to see I’ve been caned…’ her voice galloped on.

‘OK, let’s give her the strap, then,’ suggested Terri, ‘That’s fair enough. But she’ll get it just as hard.’

‘Right. Programme room. Half an hour after the matinee. Be there!’ hissed Cecilia, moving to one side to let Becky down the stairs. ‘Now all we need is that strap, and a bit of rope.’

The house was only half full at the midweek matinee, and it didn’t take long for the audience to clear the building. Terri watched the theatre manager’s office until Roger left: she had already discovered that he was going shopping for an hour before he came back to prepare for the evening show.

Up in the programme room, Cecilia had rigged the ropes across the one beam which spanned the high ceiling at the top of the building. A slip loop had been tied on the ends dangling four feet off the ground. Angela had managed to open Roger’s locker without the benefit of a key, and had uncovered a selection of implements for warming backsides. The strap Sammie had earlier reported was hanging there, it’s glistening dark leather ready for action. It was a genuine Lochgelly tawse, though the girls could not know this: to them, it was a split strap with two tails 1¼ inches wide and a sufficiently generous length to wrap around any bottom.

There was a pounding on the stairs and Terri burst in through the door: ‘She’s coming, she’s coming!’ she panted. A few moments later the slow tread of Becky coming up the stairs brought a smile to the three girls. A knock at the door, hesitant then more firm, and a whispered: ‘Are you in there, Cessie?’

Cecilia opened the door to confront Sammie, the little 16-year-old who had spied on Roger: ‘I wondered if I could watch the fun — it’s going to be Rebecca, isn’t it? I hate her, she’s such a snot.’

‘No, you can’t, Sammie, get out of it,’ snapped Terri.

‘Oh, we might as well let her, Tel,’ conceded Cecilia, ‘she did tell us about the new strap.’

‘Great, I’ll just crouch down in the far corner — she won’t even see me,’ said Sammie excitedly.

The girls looked at each other. Was Becky going to show up? At that instant, there was a knock at the door, and Becky walked in: she must have crept up the stairs.

‘Well, here I am, so let’s get it over with.’

The three girls lined up in front of Rebecca.

‘We’re going to give you a strapping, Becky: two doses of eight strokes. Cessie will give you the first eight, and we’ll give you four each. OK?’

‘What, sixteen with the strap? That’s a hell of a lot!’ Becky complained.

‘Not for what you did. Now get your clothes off.’

‘All of them?’ queried Becky.

‘The lot, dear,’ confirmed Angela.

Becky stepped over to a chair and started to remove her clothes. Her denim jacket was followed by her shirt, shoes, socks, a brief struggle to remove her tight-fitting jeans, and she was standing in bra and pants. Carefully she folded the clothes and put them on the chair, before reaching behind her and unsnapping her bra, letting it fall down her arms onto the chair.

The briefest of pauses, and she thumbed down her little white panties to stand naked facing the trio of girls.

Becky was a dance student. Although she did drama as part of her course, dance was her forte. And her body reflected her training. Smoothly muscled legs, the strength hidden while she stood relaxed, led up to the flare of her hips and the twin firm mounds of her buttocks: compact fleshy power-houses which jutted provocatively. Her narrow waist, of which she was so proud, and the surprisingly — for a dancer — generous breasts took the eyes up to an attractive but not stunning face: high cheek-bones were the best feature, but the eyes were a little large and the lips a little thin. Her hair was scraped back, as is dancers style, into a ponytail which hung midway down her back.

‘What now?’ she asked.

‘Come over here, and we’ll show you,’ said Cecilia, gripping Becky’s wrist firmly and leading her to the twin ropes. She placed Becky’s left hand through the loop and pulled it tight. ‘And the other one,’ she said.

Becky obediently pushed her wrist through the loop, and it was pulled tight. Suddenly, her arms were whipped up in the air by Terri and Angela pulling on the ropes, until Becky stood on tiptoe, her supple body forming a capital ‘Y’. The girls tied off the ropes so that Becky was almost suspended.

Cecilia walked round in front of Becky, running the tawse through her hands: ‘I’ve waited a while for this, Becky, and you’re going to feel it just like I did.’

‘Please, Cess, not too hard: I didn’t mean you any harm,’ she pleaded.

‘Of course not, dear,’ sneered Cecilia, walking round behind the suspended girl to measure a wide swing with the tawse which landed with a slight slap on the bare flesh. Becky’s body curved forwards in anticipation of the first blow, her hips thrust out, her buttocks concave.

‘Just relax, Becky, let your body go,’ came the response.

The girl’s bottom became full again as it swung backwards, to be met with the first swooshing blow with the supple leather.

Sssppplllaaatt — a loud report as bare flesh and tawse made contact, the strap wrapping itself willingly across the 17-year-old bottom’s full width.

Cecilia got into her stride and swung the tawse rhythmically in wide arcs against the rapidly reddening target… Becky’s response was vocal in that the ‘Ahhhs’ of the first couple of strokes had become louder and had been joined by exclamations.

‘Bloody hellll… Owwww!’ after the fifth stroke. Six, seven, eight and Cecilia let the tawse hang by her side. ‘Half way there, Becky. It’s Angela next.’

Angela walked in front of Becky, whose face was streaked with tears, and took the strap from Cecilia. ‘Do you want a break, Becky dear?’ she asked sympathetically.

‘Oh yes, please… please, yes,’ came the desperate response.

‘Give her a minute,’ suggested Terri.

After the sixty seconds, the tawse started its downward swing again into the soft target, the fullness of the dancer’s buttocks causing the blow to seem to ripple outwards from the point of impact before the flesh sprang back for the next blow.

Angela had only administered two of her four strokes when the programme room door was flung open to reveal the theatre manager.

‘What the bloody hell is going on here?’ he shouted. ‘Who’s that hanging up there?’

‘It’s Becky, Roger, she’s the one who stole that £10 pounds I was short. It wasn’t me at all!’ Cecilia shouted back.

‘Oh, thank God,’ mumbled Becky, her body still swinging slightly on the ropes.

‘So it was Becky, was it,’ asked Roger, drinking in the sight of the stark naked teenager hanging from the beam with Angela standing by her side, tawse in hand. ‘Well, you’d better get on with it…’

Angela gaped at Roger. ‘You mean, carry on strapping her?’

‘Exactly. How many more is she due for?’ he asked.

‘Six, Rog,’ replied Cecilia. ‘She’s getting sixteen in all.’

‘Is she, by God?’ he walked over to Becky and looked closely at her naked rear. ‘Well, you’re certainly laying it on.’

Angela stepped up to her position again as Roger walked in front of Becky and looked her in the eye. The arrival of the 11^th stroke drove a suppressed groan from the girl, but she didn’t shift her eyes from Roger’s.

Angela delivered the last of her strokes and handed the tawse to Terri. Roger, meanwhile, had walked to Becky’s side to witness the effect of the punishment on her rear-end.

Terri delivered her four strokes with considerable force, displacing the flesh and forcing Becky to swing forwards, catching her on the return swing with another stinging impact. After the 16^th stroke, Terri and Angela walked over to the ropes and lowered Becky, a sobbing heap, to the floor, her naked body curled into a foetal position.

Roger’s roving eye soon spotted Sammie crouching in the corner, and he crooked his finger at her. ‘We seem to have a stowaway here, Cecilia.’

‘We let her stay, Roger.’

‘Well, that’s a pity for her, because I can’t have you girls taking action like this on your own. You should have reported Becky to me, and I would have dealt with her. Severely. So I’ll have you, Sammie, you Terri, and you Angela, up here after the show tonight to demonstrate that I won’t have this sort of thing happening in my theatre.’

‘Cecilia has already been punished, so we’ll say no more about it, and Rebecca has certainly had hers, so there’s just you three to deal with. After the show, please. Oh, and Sammie, bring the clothes brush from the cloak-room, would you?’

…to be continued.