Usherettes Regrets (2)

The second instalment, from Blushes 7

Cecilia is a drama student who works in the evenings as an usherette at the local theatre. A daydreamer and dizzy character, she loses ten pounds of programmes and takings (with a little help from a malicious colleague) and finds herself across the theatre manager’s knee with her bottom bare for a brisk application of a wooden-backed clothes brush. The alternative was the sack, so Cecilia’s happy to take a spanking. Two nights later, the second part of her punishment is due. This time, with a cane.

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As Cecilia walked into the usherettes’ room, she could see how surprised the other girls were to find her coming in to work. After losing ten pounds, they were sure she would have been dismissed. That had been Becky’s plan, and they’d all known about it. What they didn’t know was that Cecilia’s bottom would provide the evidence of why she hadn’t lost her job, though none of them would get the chance of finding out what had happened.

Roger, the theatre manager, had been chatting in corners of the pub with various male members of the acting company over the last two evenings, after the show. After spanking Cecilia on Thursday night, he couldn’t resist telling a couple of mates in the cast, who were eagerness itself when told there was further discipline in store. What they all wanted to know was how they could get to watch.

Roger wasn’t slow to realise there was a quick buck to be made at Cecilia’s expense, and by the end of Friday night he had taken £10 from eight of the cast for his very special late night cabaret. The stage was well and truly set. It would mean moving the girl’s punishment from the discreet programme room — tucked away at the top of the theatre — down to the VIP lounge on the ground floor next to his office.

The advantage of the VIP lounge was that a large two way mirror linked that room with Roger’s office. The mirror hadn’t been used for years: indeed, there were curtains covering it in the VIP lounge. But tonight they would be removed.

Cecilia went about her duties with precision: she certainly wasn’t going to be accused of being ‘slapdash’ again, and the programme money would be right every night, even if she had to keep customers waiting.

The other girls were completely thrown by Cecilia’s new attitude: thrown, and suspicious, as they just couldn’t figure it out. Cecilia hardly noticed the inquisitive glances, as her mind was taken up with what was to happen in little over half an hour’s time.

Roger had already told her to come to the VIP lounge instead of the programme room, which she didn’t understand. And she’d put on a pair of cream slacks instead of her usual skin-tight cords, as the cords had simply been a pain to get off and rubbed like crazy on her sore backside afterwards. The slacks still set off her rounded bottom to perfection, the fine lines of her bikini knickers visible under the thin material. Instead of a shirt, she wore an arran wool sweater; she hadn’t, as was her habit, bothered with a bra.

After the show, there were, the usherettes noticed, an unusual number of the cast coming round for a quick drink at the bar before taking their glasses into Roger’s office. However, having a drink with the theatre manager wasn’t such an unusual occurrence. The theatre emptied, and Roger asked one of the girls to lock up the front doors for him. Meanwhile, Cecilia was in the loo anxiously waiting for the moment when she would have to face part two of her punishment.

The last usherette left through the stage door, and the security officer locked up after her and hurried round front-of-house to Roger’s office to join the assembled audience of actors behind the mirror looking into the VIP lounge.

Roger was already there, sitting in an armchair with the canes hung casually on a wall light fitting. The remaining furniture had been cleared to the walls except for a tall padded bar stool ‘centre stage’. There was a tentative knock on the door.

‘Come in.’

Cecilia stepped into the brightly lit room, and glanced nervously at the huge mirror covering most of one wall. Her glance would have been even more nervous had she realised that the glass concealed no less than nine people who had paid to witness her thrashing. It would, without Cecilia realising it, be her first starring role!

Her eyes fell on the canes hung by the door. One slightly thicker than the other she noticed, and longer too: a real stinger. The lighter cane’s curved handle formed almost a complete loop, and the length of malacca was slightly curved. As she looked, Roger got up.

‘Before you are punished, Cecilia, I want you to sign this disclaimer which just says that you accept corporal punishment instead of dismissal.’

Cecilia walked to the desk and looked at the single typed sheet of paper. It read:

I, Cecilia Richards, hereby agree to submit to corporal punishment as determined and administered by Roger Weaver as an alternative to instant dismissal for misconduct following due warnings. I further agree to accept such punishment on my bare buttocks, using a wooden brush and malacca cane, in two separate sessions, the severity of the beating to be decided by the theatre manager.

I understand that further misconduct will result in dismissal, though the alternative of corporal punishment may be offered at the discretion of the theatre manager.

Signed Cecilia Richards.

There was a space for her to sign, and picking up the pen on the desk she scrawled a signature on the paper and added the date.

‘Thank you. Right, will you take off your sweater and trousers, Cecilia.’

‘What, you want the sweater off? It’s just that I’m not wearing a bra. Couldn’t I roll it up like I did before?’

The fact that Cecilia wasn’t wearing a bra added to the enjoyment of the crowd behind the mirror as they anticipated the fact, quite correctly, that Roger would insist on her taking the sweater off.

‘Sorry, Cecilia, but how you dress or don’t dress is of little interest. Just take the sweater and trousers off. This isn’t really a time for being coy, is it?’

With a resigned sigh, Cecilia crossed her arms and gripped the sweater in both hands, lifting it in one movement up and over her head, her breasts bouncing free as she struggled to get her hair free from the wool. Both firm, nipple-capped protuberances, now with the nipples standing erect in the cool air-conditioned atmosphere of the VIP lounge, were beautifully shaped, two perfect handfuls of flesh unrestrained from their 34C cup home. This was one time Cecilia wished she had put on a bra.

The breasts swayed gently as Cecilia bent down to flip her shoes off before she reached for the clip at her waist and undid the zip at the side of her slacks. As if she realised she were giving a performance, she turned away from the mirror and slid the pale fabric off her bottom and down her legs, finally standing naked apart from her bikini briefs in front of an admiring audience and an expectant theatre manager.

The slight tan she still retained from sunbathing in the summer months outlined her pale white breasts and the lower curve of her rump which her high-cut knickers failed to cover.

‘Fetch a cane, please,’ Roger said, risking a quick glance to the mirror as Cecilia walked to the door, her buttocks undulating in their softness. She reached for the lighter, shorter cane, in the hope that it would cut less, and Roger did not protest as she handed it to him. Her long hair in a ponytail at the back, Cecilia looked younger than her nineteen years, though the maturity of her figure had already found a number of the audience reaching furtively down to the front of their trousers to make vital adjustments.

Roger flexed the cane firmly both ways, and the girl was astonished at how pliable the instrument was. It would wrap itself round the full width of both buttocks with little trouble. Had Cecilia known that the last bottom to feel the sting of that particular cane had been Becky’s, just over a year ago, it might have provided small satisfaction, as it was Becky’s dishonesty which had caused Cecilia to be in this position in the first place. (Becky’s crime, incidentally, was to give free programmes to friends and claim they were members of the press: something which was rewarded with a crisp four strokes as she was only seventeen, administered across her knickers.)

‘Now, Cecilia, you’re going to receive eight strokes. There is a stool there for you to bend over if you wish, or you may just touch your toes in the traditional way.’

‘I don’t think I need the stool, thank you Roger,’ she whispered. ‘Where do you want me to bend down?’

The position of the stool had been carefully fixed so that it offered an unobstructed view to the assembled audience behind the mirror. Moving it to one side, Roger indicated the spot with the tip of the cane: ‘Just here. Take your knickers down, please.’

She grabbed the bottom of the knickers on each side and pulled them down to mid-thigh, revealing the two superb smooth cheeks fully-fleshed before she bent over at Roger’s command and touched her toes, her breasts swaying gently as she did so. Placed so that the audience had a three-quarter view of proceedings, it was possible to glimpse the rounded breasts hanging down, the ponytail of hair beyond them, and at the forefront the twin buttocks bared for punishment.

‘Count the strokes out as you receive them.’

‘Right.’

Swwwitt. ‘AAAhhhhh!’ Cecilia swayed forward onto her toes with the impact of the first stroke, and a vivid double line quickly sprang up across her backside, tinged red and purple with a distinct corrugation as the seconds ticked past.

‘One!’

Swwwittt. ‘Gaahh… Two!’

Swwwittt. ‘Ouch.. Ooohh… Three!’ She strove to keep position, her fingers leaving her toes momentarily and rubbing the front of her legs in an effort to alleviate the burning sensation in her bottom.

The actors behind the mirror, together with the security officer, were glued to the scene. This girl was getting a sound thrashing: some had expected a token punishment, not too hard, just enough to hurt. But Cecilia was receiving a Victorian-style lesson administered with vigour.

There was a pause as Cecilia took her position again.

Swwwittt. ‘AAhhh… God… Phheeww… Four, Roger. God, you’re laying it on. It bloody hurts.’

Four tramlines now decorated the plump behind as Roger told her: ‘You can stand up for a moment, but you are not permitted to touch your bottom.’

Cecilia shot to her feet, the tears welling up in her eyes as the smarting pain continued. She had been wrong two evenings ago. The cane hurt a great deal more than the brush. While the brush had a deep stinging sensation, the cane was like being branded with a red-hot poker. Or so it seemed.

‘Could I go over the stool, do you think, Roger?’ she asked. ‘It’s not easy holding that position.’ A short sniffle as she choked back a tear.

‘Fine. Bring me the other cane, too, will you?’

‘The other one? But you can see this one’s having the desired effect, can’t you?’

A burst of petulance was rewarded by a cold stare from Roger. ‘Fetch the other cane, or the punishment will be increased.’ Cecilia’s striped bottom jiggled as she walked over to the door, her knickers hitched up to just below her bottom. As she turned, the audience leaned forward to see the pubic bush of hair between her legs as she walked back and handed the thicker cane to Roger.

Knickers right down, then, and over the stool you go. Lie over it, and grip the rail on the far side, will you?’ Cecilia obeyed, and presented her magnificent bottom at the apex of a triangle formed by her legs on one side and arms on the other.

Roger flexed the cane, and presented it in a practice swing up over his shoulder and down to touch the corrugated bare rump.

The arm was raised again and the cane descended with a deeper Wwhhhrrpp to bite deep across the proffered cheeks.

‘Five!… Christ… Oooohhh!’

WWWaruuuppp ‘Six! Hang on. Phew… God… Ooww!’

Roger paused as Cecilia wriggled on the stool, her buttocks clenching and unclenching until they were finally still.

Wrrhhppp ‘Wow… Seven!… Ahhh.’

Cecilia’s voice rose a semi-tone with each successive stroke, the pain peaking as she anticipated the final blow. It was a long time coming, until at last: Wwhhuurrup and the malacca wrapped itself round the fleshiest part of her cheeks.

‘YYoowwch… Eight… Christ, it stings… Can I get up?… Pheww.’

‘No stay there for a moment.’ Cecilia’s hands rubbed along the bar at the base of the stool as she strove to subdue the frantic stinging in her backside. After another minute or so: ‘Right, up you get, and stand over by the mirror, hands on head. You might as well take your pants off.’

Cecilia struggled off the stool and kicked off her knickers before taking the three steps to the mirror and, facing it, placing her hands on top of her head.

The tears rolled freely down her cheeks, partly as a result of the punishment and partly as an overwhelming sense of relief swept over her that it was finished.

The audience on the other side of the glass whispered to one another: ‘Unbelievable.’ ‘It was for real.’ ‘What a bum. What tits. What willpower. She’s terrific.’

Roger walked over to Cecilia, and with an affectionate slap on her bottom, told her to turn round and face into the room, providing the audience with a view of her multicoloured bare rump, the contrast between the thicker tramlines achieved with the heavier cane being instantly distinguishable from those received from the lighter one.

‘Well done, Cecilia, all over now. You can get dressed when you like and go home.’

Roger left the room and walked round to his office to join his ‘customers’ watching Cecilia delicately pull on her knickers and slacks and replace the sweater, grimacing as she did so. Then she picked up one of the canes and flexed it experimentally between her hands, mimicked Roger: ‘Bend down and touch your toes… Count the strokes out as you receive them.’ Then she swished the cane through the air a couple of times before dropping it on the armchair and walking out. ‘Everything OK with the video, Charlie?’ Roger asked the security officer.

‘Fine, Rog, fine. That sound link Peter put in worked a treat. Caught every word. And some wonderful close-ups, too!’

The saga will continue…