From: an674112@anon.penet.fi (Rosewood)
Date: Sun, 14 Jul 1996 19:15:52 UTC
Subject: EMMA AT SCHOOL Episode 5 - Meeting the locals

Emma At School 5

Meeting the locals

"How much further... where are we going?" Emma complained.

"Will you stop it!" her friend replied. Then, grinning, she added, "Or I’ll spank you!"

Emma made a face. She had agreed to allow Deborah to spank her up to four times a week for the next three months and knew that Deborah found it a great turn on - and that she enjoyed spanking her bare bottom outdoors. It was also true, of course, that Emma got amazingly turned on when her lover spanked her.

"Here!" Deborah was whispering now. "Look - through there!"

Emma followed her friend’s pointing finger through the hedge to a huge brick building. It looked, Emma thought, like a school.

"It’s a school," Deborah told her, adding: "A boys’ school."

"What!" Emma almost shrieked her response.

"Shhhh! You’ll get us caught!"

"I’m not going in there," Emma muttered, shaking her head.

"Do you know the way back?"


"Then it looks like you’re coming with me. Come on."

With that, Deborah took her friend’s hand and pulled her across the lawn and in through a small back door. Emma had to admit that Deborah seemed to know what she was doing; she obviously came here a lot.

They slipped through the corridors, avoiding meeting anyone until Deborah pulled at a study door and bundled herself and her friend inside.

"Hey! Debs!"

A tall, good-looking boy jumped to his feet and came over to kiss Deborah on the lips, Emma feeling a twinge of jealousy. He looked about seventeen. "And who’s this beauty?" he asked, Emma blushing at the flattery despite its corniness.

"This is my new best friend, Emma," Deborah said proudly.

"Good to meet you, Emma. Now..."

As the boy continued to talk, Emma looked around the room. Well-decorated, good posters, good taste in music. She had to admit to feeling quite excited being here and being in the presence of boys after several weeks locked up in an almost all-girl environment. As she gazed around, she suddenly noticed something odd under a table, although it took a few seconds for her to realise that the "something" was another boy, his face buried in a book. Emma felt annoyed that he had not even acknowledged the girls’ presence, but returned her attention to Deborah and the first boy instead.

"OK. Look, I’ve got to go and play soccer for an hour or two. Will you two hang around?"

Deborah didn’t even look to Emma for an answer.

"Of course," she said with a flashing smile.

"Great. Alright, see you later Emma. Bye."

"So what are we supposed to do for two hours while he’s away?" Emma asked. "I don’t know. Just hang out. What’s your problem?"

Emma knew that protesting her jealousy would not have any useful effect and, instead, threw herself onto a tatty, blue couch against one wall. Deborah was about to follow her when she saw a glint on the floor. Intrigued, she stooped to pick up the tiny object and then froze as a sharp voice cried out.

"Stop! Don’t move!"

It was the boy under the table and Deborah held herself deadly still, expecting news of a wasp or some other danger.

"What... what is it?" she asked under her breath.

"Oh," the boy replied calmly. "It’s the view of your knickers under your skirt!"

"You bastard!" Deborah exploded, standing up and turning on him. "What do you...."

But the boy interrupted her and something in his voice told her to stop shouting and, rather, to listen.

"I thought I said don’t move," he spat. "Now I suggest you get back into that brazen pose and wait for my next instruction."

"Why should I?" Deborah asked with a snarl.

"Because I know damn well that if I report you for being here when you’re supposed to be at school you’ll get your housemaster’s cane across that pretty bottom of yours - and, compared to that, the spanking I’m planning to give you will be fairly mild!"

Deborah stared at the boy with her mouth open. Emma felt her stomach turn over and then looked at her friend who was giving away her thoughts by inaction. It was true, of course. A caning was the minimum punishment for being caught in a boys’ school and Emma had seen the marks left by Mr Lindon’s cane on Deborah’s fair cheeks before. It was almost impossible to believe, but Emma knew that her friend was about to yield her bottom to a spanking from this precocious youth.

Slowly, Deborah turned her back on the boy and bent down once more. Her skirt was terribly short and Emma usually liked her to wear it for precisely the reason that today it had caused her trouble. She knew very well the view that the boy was getting from behind her lover - her white cotton panties, swollen by her youthful pussy, only partly covering her pale bottom cheeks.

The boy got up and walked towards the girl he was commanding. Almost nonchalantly he flipped the remains of her skirt over her back and then stroked her cotton-clad bum with his fingers.

"My name’s David, by the way," he said. Emma felt a surge of anger rising in her as Deborah held her position under the intrusive touch. "You said you’d spank her, not rub your grubby fingers all over her!" The boy swung round to face her, his expression unruffled.

"Oh," he said, his fingers moving between Deborah’s thighs now. "You can talk!"

Fixing Emma with his eyes, he slid a finger of each hand into the waistband of Deborah’s panties and slipped them down easily to her thighs before beginning to fondle her now bared buttocks once more.

"Well," he continued. "I suggest that you save your breath and get your own knickers off. ‘Cos you’re next!"

Emma blushed despite herself. "I’m not doing any such thing!" she muttered. "I’d rather get the cane."

As she spoke, she saw his fingers straying once more between Deborah’s thighs and this time they clearly found the slippery entrance to the girl’s vagina. What horrified her more than this, though, was the words Deborah spoke (with a slight gasp) as he did so.

"You wouldn’t rather get the cane," she told her friend. "And I’m not getting it to save your modesty. So you can either get undressed and let David spank you like a good little girl, or so help me I’ll gladly assist him in ripping your clothes off you by force!"

"Debbie! No! You wouldn’t! You..." Emma wept, her mind in a spin, before David silenced her with a look and a step towards her.

"You heard your friend," he said. "Now strip! Everything off!" Deborah’s short speech had punctured her fighting spirit and she realised that she would be on a one-person losing side if she tried to resist further. Tearfully and slowly, she began to undress.

"I’m glad you’ve persuaded your... friend to see sense," David said pleasantly to Deborah, making clear his understanding of the relationship between the two girls. "Now, twelve swats each with a wet flannel. Come on, girl," he said sharply to Emma. "Get them off now!"

As David walked over to the washbasin in the study and proceeded to thoroughly dampen a large, heavyweight purple flannel, Emma removed her bra to leave her sitting in nothing but her knickers. Lacking Deborah’s support, and fearing an increase in the level of her punishment, she then began to slide this last, skimpy garment from her, dropping it to the floor and sitting naked on the couch.

David turned, holding the flannel which he had rolled up loosely and looked straight at her.

"Sit on the side of the couch facing me," he demanded. "Legs wide apart." "No, I ...." Emma began, only to see David turn away from her in disgust at her continued disobedience. He didn’t look at her as he delivered the next short monologue.

"You still have a lot to learn, don’t you? Deborah, pull your panties all the way down to the floor please. Right down... good girl. Now, stand with your feet apart... wider... a little more, I want to see your sweet little cunt lips. Beautiful - just perfect. Now put your left hand between your legs and rub your clit. Yes... a bit faster... keep going. Great... I want you to keep going with your left hand... and stroke your pussy with your right hand... yes... spread your lips a bit more. Now, two fingers inside you... right up inside your cunt... further... yeah... and slide them in and our... keep going... don’t stop until you come... don’t stop...."

Emma watched, horrified and totally gripped, as her friend carried out each perverted command without protest and as she gradually became genuinely aroused. All the time that Deborah was wanking herself, Emma could see David stroking his evident hardness through his trousers. Then as Deborah’s breathing betrayed, through the signs Emma knew so well, the nearness of her orgasm, Emma turned towards her lover and watched her coming "to order" for this stranger.

David turned to Emma now.

"I don’t expect you to have the obedience of Deborah. But I do expect you to carry out simple commands!"

Looking at the floor, Emma slowly slid her feet off the side of the couch and parted her thighs, displaying her open sex to this boy she’d known for less than an hour. David smiled and thanked her politely, telling her to maintain that position while he punished Deborah. Then he moved back behind the other girl and lifted the flannel above his head.


Emma could tell by the sound of the crack of wet flannelette against bare skin that the blow was very painful. Deborah’s scream only helped to reinforce this knowledge. For the third time, Emma was made to sit and watch while her best friend was beaten, only this time she knew that when the punishment was over - she would be next.

She willed the spanking to proceed more slowly. She even, to her shame, wished for her friend to receive additional whacks - anything to defer the onset of her own chastisement any little way into the future. Yet, after twelve smart lashes had been delivered to Deborah’s upward-pointed and bare bottom, David turned once more to Emma. He didn’t speak unkindly... but then, in a position of such power, why should he bother.

"Roll over onto your tummy so that you’re bent over the side of the couch. That’s better... you’re learning."

She was learning. She was learning that in the twisted world into which her parents had thrust her, the rules of the outside world simply did not apply. She had learned the central lesson intended by her mother and father: that every action has a consequence. In the case of her new life, that every misdemeanour, however slight, resulted in her bottom being spanked.

But many other strange new dynamics were created in this world. Your best friend and lover could demand the right to punish you too. She could demand that you expose yourself to strangers - even to strange men! She could demand that you bare your bottom for their correction too. It even seemed that males in general were accorded the right, in general, to spank the bare bottom of females in general, though in this case, of course, it was blackmail that made it necessary for her and Deborah to submit. That was as far as her thoughts could wander, for they were interrupted rudely - painfully - by the first flash of the flannel across her bare buttocks.

Emma felt the heavy sting of the flannel and heard the sound of her own involuntary screech of pain almost simultaneously. The wetness of the flannel assisted it in bolstering its power and, although it lacked the blistering aftershock of Amanda’s strap, the initial touch was every bit as nasty.

"Yeeooowl!" She shrieked again as the second stroke landed, seeking out a new area to set burning. Part of the flannel’s advantage, David noticed, over other implements he’d tried was that it both covered a large area, like a hand or paddle, but yet the "tail" of the flannel delivered the concentrated force of a strap or cane

As Emma buckled under the following blows, she wondered whether David’s experience of being the spanker (for he undoubtedly did have experience!) was of punishing boys or girls. She knew he was too young to be a prefect: he was probably no older than her and that compounded the humiliation which was brought by every...



As David neared the half-way point he began to aim his blows more carefully. He swept the sixth across the crease between buttock and leg, catching Emma’s exposed vulva lightly as a happy coincidence. Then he moved down a little further to her thighs, using the "whiplash" property of the flannel to best advantage: when beating the left thigh, for instance, the tail of the flannel snakes round to lash cruelly at the inner thigh and he knew from experience how painful that could be.



It was true that David was not unfamiliar with being on the imparting end of corporal punishment, and that he had some experience of spanking girls. However, Emma’s worst imaginings - that girls at Katherine Parr were expected to bare their bottoms on demand to the boys of St Stephen’s - were wide of the mark. In fact, the staff at both schools were genuinely concerned that their punishment regimes did not contribute to sexist power dynamics and would have been greatly disturbed by the goings on in Mark’s study that afternoon.


"Arrrrh! Please stop... please... Ouuuchh!"

David’s spanking of girls happened at home where he was expected to attend to the discipline of his two younger sisters, Katy and Sophia. The girls were twins and, at thirteen, two years David’s junior. Their parents, as strong believers in corporal punishment and the need for children to respect their elders, would leave David in charge when they went out and were very happy for him to bare the girls’ bottoms for a spanking if he deemed it necessary. Which he often did. In fact, now that the girls’ bodies were developing at least as quickly, if not more rapidly, than his he was extremely careful not to allow a single misdemeanour go unpunished. There were evenings where he spent more time with a naked sister over his knee than without. But, although he relished this duty, and although he enjoyed tracking the changes in the girls’ young breasts and pussies, and although he denied them the modesty of having their bottoms bared once over his knee but rather always pulled their knickers down as they stood before him, he had never ordered them to sit or stand with their legs open or attempted to touch their maturing bodies other than to smack their bottoms soundly.

This aspect of his spanking of Deborah and Emma was new, as was his choice of position though not implement: his parents dictated that he should hand-spank his sisters while they bent over his knee and this was therefore a welcome variation



Not that he hadn’t spanked boys as well. Although he was, indeed, too young to be a prefect at St Stephen’s, David had also gone to the attached boys’ prep school and had been school captain there. Unlike the secondary school which, like Katherine Parr, allowed all senior pupils some rights to deliver punishments to the younger children, St Stephen’s Prep gave the right to spank to the school captain only - a privilege which David had made great use of. Indeed, it was during that year that he had discovered the means of chastisement he was to beneficially employing on Emma at that very moment.



And now, or course, as a junior pupil at St Stephen’s public school (in England, remember, this means a private school) David’s repertoire of spanking techniques was being rapidly swollen by being on the receiving end on a very regular basis.

David looked down at the lovely red-stained buttocks before him, the sweet virgin slit nestling delightfully between the open thighs and smiled. Just one more. He stroked the flannel smoothly over the upturned and quivering cheeks, leaving a trail of water droplets, and then lifted it one last time to lash the girl as hard as he could across her already well-punished bottom.

David smiled again as the loud cry of pain echoed around the small room, knowing that the girls’ cries sounded little different to those of young boys and would therefore not be considered remarkable by passers-by. Then he ran his hand lightly over Emma’s bare bottom and told her she could stand up and turn around.

Emma gladly did so and watched David though her tears as he walked back over to where Deborah retained her position - bent over with her thighs spread - and stood behind her. With growing disbelief, Emma watched him as he unbuttoned his trousers and tore open a small packet he had picked up from the desk. She couldn’t see his cock as he was standing behind Deborah, but Emma knew that he was fitting a condom onto his erection and simply watched and waited until David, with no further preparation, took hold of her friends hips and pushed himself inside her. She stood there, mouth open, as her lover held her position while the boy began to fuck her. She looked on with horror as Deborah started to breathe heavily and to push back on the cock filling her pussy, her eyes closed and her mind obviously oblivious to the effect the sight was having on Emma. Even worse, Emma found her own pussy moistening as she watched Deborah near her climax and then cry out as the waves of ecstasy washed over her, building up her backward thrusts again after they had subsided to meet David’s approaching orgasm. Finally, Emma allowed her hand to stray,

unseen, to her own clitoris as her friend and lover, Deborah, came again, this time more loudly and simultaneously with the boy standing behind her and fucking her. Emma’s own climax surprised her in its suddenness and intensity and she collapsed, weeping, onto the couch. David, after enjoying the sensation of feeling his erection subside inside Deborah’s pussy, withdrew and then, leaving the girl still bent over, dressed himself and left the room. Deborah stood up slowly and pulled her panties up while Emma just stared at her.

"What are you going to do?" Emma spat at last.

"What do you mean?"

"What do you think. About him?"

"What do you expect me to do?"

Emma felt tears pricking at her eyes again and was angry with herself for not repressing them. "What is wrong with you. After what he did... he raped you!"

Deborah looked as though she was going to walk out of the room. Then, suddenly, she laughed.

"Raped me?" she repeated. "I told him to fuck me to teach you a lesson you idiot. You’ve behaved like a silly bitch this afternoon - possessive and pathetic. You don’t own me!"

"To teach me a lesson?" Emma couldn’t believe that Deborah had really wanted that boy to screw her.

"And you’ll be learning another lesson when we get home," Deborah continued, straightening her skirt. "Over my knee."

"What! You don’t seriously think I’m going to...." she ran our of words and simply got up and started to collect her clothes. She hardly noticed as Deborah left the room and certainly didn’t care. She looked up with more concern however when, seconds later, she returned - this time with two boys behind her. Emma tried to cover herself, but knew that these two now had also seen her nakedness. And then she noticed for the first time the heavy wooden ruler in Deborah’s hand.

"Paul, Andy, this is my friend Emma. She’s being a naughty, stubborn girl and I’m going to need your help with her."