Usherettes (4)

Final instalment in the Usherettes saga, from Blushes 11

Regular readers of Blushes will already be familiar with the hapless usherettes at a local theatre in the London suburbs who find themselves on the receiving end of the theatre manager’s range of stinging implements.

Some of the girls have been caught taking their revenge on a thieving colleague — administering a sound strapping — and have been summoned for a brisk application of they know not what…

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Terri and Angela, both 18, and Samantha — Sammie to all and sundry — just 16, were understandably nervous at the prospect of being beaten by Roger, the theatre manager. If he had arrived just a few moments later at the programme room where they were giving the repellent Becky her due, they would never have been caught. As it was, there were now only a few minutes left of the show before curtain-down, and that would be closely followed by curtain-up on a considerably more dramatic performance in the programme room!

Sammie remembered that Roger had told her to bring the wooden-backed clothes brush from the cloakroom, and the girls discussed the likelihood of him using just the brush or bringing out one of his other instruments.

‘I reckon Sammie’ll get it and Ang and we’ll catch it worse as we’re older. It isn’t bloody fair,’ moaned Terri.

‘Whatever we get, it’s red bums all round, Tel, so I wouldn’t worry about it. He’s given me a couple with the cane before, but that wasn’t too bad: I had those canvas jeans on, too.’

‘Slim chance of that this time,’ mumbled Sammie disconsolately. She had never been spanked in her life, and was dreading the prospect. Her bottom felt positively huge under her long, calf-length skirt. She supposed that would have to come off.

The girls trooped up to the circle for the end of the show, opening the auditorium doors after the final curtain-call, and watching the smiling audience leave. None of the girls managed a smile, however.

As the last members of the public left, they closed the doors again and put the ‘No Entrance’ signs up. Terri and Angela trotted down to meet Sammie at the bottom of the programme room stairs, after she had collected the brush. Discreetly, she had popped it into a supermarket carrier bag. No point in advertising events.

Walking slowly up the narrow stairs, Sammie glanced up to where Angela’s plump rump undulated gently ahead of her. ‘At least you’re well-padded, Ang,’ she said.

‘That’s not going to help, you cheeky sod. It still stings.’

The trio waited outside the programme room door for Roger to come up the stairs. After about four minutes, they heard the swift, light tread of the manager’s footsteps. A moment later he appeared, key in hand, to open the door.

‘I think we’ll have you in one at a time; youngest first, oldest last. So presumably you’re first, Samantha?’ Roger asked.

‘I guess so,’ replied Sammie, stepping into the room behind the manager, carrier bag in hand.

‘What have you got in there?’ he asked.

‘The clothes brush you asked me to bring.’

‘Well, you’d better give it here, Sammie. We’ll be needing it in a minute. Just slip out of your skirt, would you, and take your tights off.’

Sammie sat down and pulled her ankle boots off before reaching under her long skirt and yanking the tights down, rolling them over her ankles and feet. Standing up, she undid the zip at the side of her skirt and let it drop to the floor, stepping to one side to pick it up and hang it carefully over the back of a chair.

‘I wouldn’t put it there. You’ll be bending over that in a moment,’ said Roger.

‘Oh, I see…’ mumbled Sammie, embarrassed, as she moved her skirt to a cupboard in the corner. Her blouse was long enough to cover most of the swell of her bottom, and Roger told her to lift it up and tuck it there.

She rolled the fabric up on itself so that it rested well above her waist, and turned to face Roger.

‘Stand up to the chair, Sammie. Now how old are you?’

‘Sixteen,’ came the whisper.

‘Ever been spanked before?’

‘Good God, no,’ Sammie said, standing now by the chair.

‘Well, get those panties down so we can rectify that, will you?’

Obediently, Sammie slipped her fingers into the waistband of her knickers and pulled them slowly down to mid-thigh. Roger stared at the most unblemished female bottom he had ever seen. The buttocks were perfectly smooth, almost alabaster in appearance, with not even a dusting of hair, the division between the cheeks a slim dark line setting off the rounded half-moons to each side.

Sammie’s pale complexion was envied by a number of the girls, but Roger was probably the first to appreciate that the same flawless skin extended to her backside as well. Sammie looked round and Roger’s gaze met hers. ‘Shall I bend over the chair?’ she asked.

‘No… no… I shall want you over my knee,’ Roger walked to the chair and sat down, gripping Samantha’s wrist as he pulled her round the other side of the chair and over his lap, a brief glimpse of her reddish bush flashing by as she turned.

Roger couldn’t wait to touch the ivory surface of the teenager’s bare cheeks, and laid the palm of his right hand round the curve of her bottom. ‘Move up a little further,’ he ordered, and felt the muscles tense under his hand as she wriggled further over his lap until her hips balanced her perfectly.

Outside the door, Terri and Angela waited anxiously for a sign of what was happening. They were rewarded with the first crisp Slapp! of Roger’s palm on Sammie’s upturned satin-smooth buttocks. He had discarded the brush in favour of closer contact with this peachy perfection.

Slappp! Slapp! Slaaappp! Roger’s hand rose and fell rhythmically, spanking each cheek alternately, the flesh turning a delicate pink and, as the punishment continued, a rosy red. Sammie was silent save for sharp intakes of breath: although Roger was spanking her hard, the effect of a hand on her bare bottom was not as bad as she had anticipated the clothes brush would be.

Roger now widened the area of his attention, taking in the lower curve and upper part of Samantha’s rear-end, the flesh absorbing each blow with a dramatic quiver. He also increased the force of the blows, and was rewarded after four swift impacts with the lowest part of each buttock with a loud groan from Sammie, followed by: ‘Jeeeesus, it stings!’

Finally, Roger decided she’d had enough, and reached down for the brush by the side of his chair. Samantha, looking back, saw the hand pick up the brush and tensed her bottom, ready.

‘Get up, girl,’ he said, ‘and bend over the back of the chair.’

Sammie struggled to her feet, her hands going round to feel the glowing damage to her behind, and shuffled round to the other side of the chair, bending over and gripping the seat tightly with both hands.

Roger stepped to her left side and applied four smarting applications of the brush, two to each buttock, before ordering the sore teenager to get dressed.

‘After you’ve got your things on, ask both the others to come in, would you?’

Sammie pulled her knickers swiftly over her bottom, and tugged her skirt on before grabbing tights and boots and almost running out of the room, her eyes filled with tears.

Terri and Angela walked in apprehensively to be greeted by Roger experimentally swishing a thin cane through the air. He put it down and selected another, rather longer, version; having satisfied himself as to its suitability, he turned to face the girls.

‘As I explained to you two misfits, I will not have this sort of behaviour — taking the law into your own hands — in my theatre. You know that Cecilia has already been punished, and I would not propose to subject her to further discomfort. But you two have not had the benefit of a thrashing, although I remember that you, Angela, were caned once before. Am I right?’

‘Yes, Roger, you gave me a couple about two months ago,’ replied Angela.

‘I’m afraid it’ll be more than a couple today, girls. Bring the table into the centre of the room, would you?’

The girls heaved the heavy wooden table from the wall into the middle and stood by it while Roger walked round, raising the cane in the air at each end. It was about seven feet long, and only three feet wide, and both Angela and Terri had guessed its purpose.

‘As you saw fit to strip Becky as well as strap her, I don’t see any reason why you should escape the humiliation you forced her to undergo. So get your clothes off, down to your bra and panties.’

At this, Terri was about to rebel: he could stuff his poxy job, she thought, but he wasn’t having her parading round stark naked before he whipped her. A glance at Angela, however, made her realise that she might as well go along with it: at least it would be quick. Angela had already peeled off her slacks and sweater, and was unbuttoning her shirt. Terri obediently started to undress.

Sixty seconds later, both girls were standing by the table in their underwear. Angela turned out to be slightly fuller in figure than Terri, her bottom straining at the thin cotton of her knickers. Terri, on the other hand, was very slim, with coltish legs and a compactly-rounded backside in brightly striped high-cut panties which barely covered her cheeks.

Roger had walked out of the programme room, but returned in time to find both girls standing waiting: ‘Bras and pants off, girls,’ he said, and Terri and Angela simultaneously reached behind them and unclipped their bras before reaching down and slipping their knickers off, kicking them over by a chair.

The dark nipples of Angela’s ample breasts contrasted with the pale delicately-formed breasts of Terri. Terri’s suntan highlighted the white flesh of her bottom as it did her chest.

‘Terri, come and bend over this end of the table,’ said Roger, pointing with the cane, ‘Angela, this end.’ The girls walked round to their appointed positions and bent right over the cool wood, their breasts brushing the surface before being squashed as Roger told them to grip the sides of the table and hold on.

He stepped up behind Angela and measured his swing to the full bare buttocks. The girls were now facing each other along the length of the table, their heads only a dozen or so inches apart, and Angela looked desperately at Terri and whispered: ‘Here goes!’ before closing her eyes tight shut.

Terri looked up and saw the cane swing down with an alarming swooshing sound to connect with a meaty Sppllatttt with its target. Angela jerked forward, her knuckles white and her eyes opened in astonishment at the sheer burning slash across her backside.

Roger had meanwhile already walked round to behind Terri, and her slim cheeks were measured with a light tap before the slender malacca wrapped itself lickety-split round the full width from hip to hip: ‘Yooowww!’ yelped Terri, her legs giving way with the force of the blow and her bottom dipping before she pulled herself up to the right position again.

The procedure of one stroke followed by a long pause while the other girl received her stroke was repeated five more times, until both sets of cheeks were bisected with six tramlines and a film of sweat had appeared on both girls’ faces, and in the division between their buttocks and at the top of their thighs.

The two teenagers lay there panting, until Roger snapped, ‘I want you both lying flat on top of the table, side by side: move!’

Angela and Terri pulled themselves onto the top and lay down, head to toe.

‘Not like that, I want you both facing the same way. Angela, get off and turn round.’

Angela slipped off the table and clambered back on alongside Terri’s naked form. Roger slapped her lightly on the bottom as he told her to move a little further forward, until both sets of buttocks were aligned perfectly. The eyes of both girls met for a moment, and their hands reached out to grip the edge of the table.

Roger had opted for his longest cane: a thin, whippy length which he had only used on one occasion. He laid it carefully across the full width of the four cheeks on the table, the muscles tensing momentarily at the touch of the wood before relaxing.

The malacca rose and fell with a high whine to land across a double width of bare female backside, biting deep into the soft flesh before springing back and leaving a livid weal of fire. Both girls jerked and gasped together: Angela, on the far side of the cane, receiving a faster impact, almost shouted: ‘Jeeezzz! Owww!’ but was cut short by the arrival of a second smarting stroke.

Both youngsters tensed their bodies for a third stroke, but it never came, as Roger replaced the cane and said quietly. ‘Well done, Angela and Terri. You can get dressed, and I’ll see you in my office in five minutes to sign that punishment form I mentioned. I hope this has demonstrated that if you don’t toe the line, it’s either ‘Out’ or ‘Ouch!’ eh?’

‘Yes, Roger,’ they chorused, slipping gingerly into their clothes.