From: firstname.lastname@example.org (Rosewood)
Date: Sun, 21 Jul 1996 02:03:50 UTC
Subject: EMMA AT SCHOOL Episode 7 - Paying the penalty
Neither girl said a word on the long walk back. Emma was unable to get the image of herself bent over that terrible punishment horse with her bottom bared for the cane. She couldn't control her tears which, every time she thought she had stemmed the flow, would begin to run down her cheeks again. Deborah's thoughts were, as usual, more practical:
"Have I gone too far?" she asked herself. "What if Emma tells Mr Lindon what really happened?"
The possible consequences didn't bear thinking about... and, she realised, she was perhaps even more worried of losing Emma as a friend - and lover. Despite all her bluster, she had grown very fond of the new girl. Had she finally gone over the top with this afternoon's performance?
The short walk back to school appeared to last for ever. And yet, it also seemed as if no time had passed before they found themselves facing a very angry and determined looking Mr Lindon across his desk.
"Do you have any idea," he thundered, "how much damage can be done to a school's reputation by this kind of scandalous behaviour?"
It was clearly a rhetorical question as the words kept on coming: "You have embarrassed Mr Sternly and caused him a great deal of extra work. You have also put me in a very humiliating position. This is a respected public school. Girls of fifteen do NOT play depraved sexual games with boys from local schools... with ANY boys for that matter! What on earth got into you?"
This time the housemaster paused for an answer and Deborah quickly replied: "We're both really sorry, sir, we..."
"SORRY??!" He hurled the syllables across the desk like a spear. "What good is that going to do? And what on earth are you wearing?"
Deborah realised that Mr Lindon's eye had fallen on her skirt which she hadn't dared to change in case a description of her clothing had been passed on by Mr Sternly.
"What, my skirt, sir?"
"SKIRT! You don't seriously expect me to call that... that ribbon round your waist a skirt?"
There was a long pause.
"I don't know, sir. I realise it isn't regulation."
"That has got to be the greatest understatement of the year. Take it off... now! Put it straight in the bin."
Deborah turned and unclipped the skirt, walking slowly over to the bin as she unwrapped it and stopping short at Mr Lindon's next outburst.
"And what do you call those? Don't we have regulations about underwear any more?"
Deborah realised he was talking about her panties. A lot of girls she knew wore similar skimpy panties and it was generally overlooked, yet they were undoubtedly against the rules.
"Yes, sir," she answered, turning her head.
"Very well. We'll have those in the bin as well then, please."
"Yes, sir," Deborah confirmed, peeling the tiny knickers down her legs and dropping them, with her horribly expensive mini, in the bin. Naked from the waist down now, she turned round with a heavy blush to face the housemaster. Although she had been given bare-bottomed spankings and other punishments by him on a number of occasions, she had never had to conduct a conversation with him with her pussy on display.
"Right, let's get on," Mr Lindon asserted in a business-like tone. "Firstly, I have a question for you Emma. Mr Sternly got the impression that you were not involved in this... incident... entirely of your own free will. Obviously, if this is true then I shall not punish you with anything like the severity due otherwise. Well?"
Deborah felt her heart sinking as she waited for Emma's reply. Would the nightmare never end?
"No, Mr Lindon," Emma answered quietly. "Mr Sternly was mistaken. I was just as involved as the others. I know it was wrong and I expect to be punished for it. I'm sorry, sir."
Mr Lindon's face showed the first hint of compassion of the afternoon. He looked thoughtful.
"I admire your honesty," he said at last. "It is an admirable quality. However, you clearly recognise that your honesty cannot lessen the penalty for your behaviour. I very much regret being in this position with you so new to the school, but there it is."
Then he turned back to Deborah and spoke as fiercely as ever:
"It may not appear so, but you have been very lucky today. I had to flog you only a matter of days ago and here you are before me again. If it weren't for your companion I would have no compunction at all in sending you to the headmaster to be birched. As it is, with Emma being new here, I feel I should attend to your punishments myself."
Deborah breathed a massive sigh of relief. What was to come was going to be bad, she knew, but to escape a birching so narrowly. The birch was hardly ever used any more, maybe once every two years or so. The last girl to get it was in sick bay for three days afterwards unable to get up and the marks lasted for months! "Whatever the punishment," she thought. "I can take it now."
Mr Lindon was sill speaking, and was now coming to the sentence.
"So. Both of you will receive twelve full strokes of the cane across your bare bottoms, six now... and six at call this evening."
Emma gasped out loud. A house public! She was going to be beaten in front of the whole house. Stripped naked, tied down and caned! In front of everyone - even the two boys in the house. She felt herself growing faint and reached out to the table to steady herself.
"And you, Deborah. You will have an additional punishment. What lessons do you have this afternoon?"
In the summer months, because of the late sunset, afternoon lessons didn't begin until after four and then went on until supper. This was followed by prep until nine. And then call.
"Er... maths, PE and French, sir."
"Perfect. In view of your unladylike flirtation with exhibitionism and your inability to wear the correct uniform, you will spend the afternoon and evening dressed EXACTLY as you are now. I will also request of Mr Denby that you take part in PE as normal, but nude."
Deborah had never shouted at Mr Lindon before, but this terrible statement had rendered her temporarily unable to control herself. The housemaster moved quickly and decisively. He was around the desk with strap in hand before Deborah closed her mouth and, almost before she realised what was happening, he had pulled her forwards, thrust her face down over the desk, and laid three fresh stripes across her bare cheeks.
"Don't you dare..."
Emma could see that Mr Lindon was purple in the face.
"Don't you dare shout at me you impudent tramp or I'll deliver you to the birching tower myself. Is that understood?"
"Yes, sir," Deborah whimpered.
"I'm glad to hear it," Mr Lindon said, calmer now and letting the girl stand up and rub her injured bottom. "Now, do I assume you accept the punishment I have outlined, or do you wish to take the other option?" No way was she being birched by choice! But to spend the whole afternoon naked from waist to ankle. In front of all the teachers and the other children. And to have to do PE in the nude! She hated PE anyway, and that sadistic Mr Denby. She was in no doubt that he would relish the opportunity to make this particular lesson more awful than ever!
"Very well. Let's begin. Emma, put your panties on that chair and then face the wall, holding your skirt right up around your waist. Deborah, I shall attend to you first."
Emma did as she was told silently, hearing the sound of the punishment horse being pulled out into the centre of the room but scared to look. Once her panties were off she walked slowly over to the wall, pressing her nose up against it and then lifting he skirt to her waist as she'd been told. She took one last peek at the scene behind her and saw Mr Lindon arranging her friend's body for her caning.
"That's it Emma," the housemaster said as he strapped Deborah to the horse. "Just lift your skirt a little higher for me so I can see the whole of your bottom. Very good. It looks as if you've had quite a hard spanking recently."
"Yes, sir," Emma replied.
"Well, it's a pity it wasn't enough to persuade you to stay out of trouble, isn't it?"
Mr Lindon grunted to himself. Less than two weeks here and already in to have her bare backside caned. He hoped this wasn't going to become a habit. Although.... He checked himself quickly; he backed the school's corporal punishment regime to the hilt, but in some ways his wasn't an easy job. Temptation at every corner.
He looked over to where his newest pupil was standing with her skirt hiked up round her midriff, her youthful bottom already a delightful red hue. Was it necessary to have girls who were waiting for punishment against the wall with their bottoms bared? Well, it certainly helped to focus their minds on what was to come, and it was one of the traditions of the school, but it was hard not to enjoy the sight.... And then there was the punishment horse design. Of course, positioning a girl so that her legs were spread wide apart had some very straightforward advantages: it ensured a nice wide target and it enhanced the girl's humiliation.... But, and Mr Lindon turned his head back to the girl strapped to the horse before him, it would take a very special heterosexual male not to find the sight of a teenaged girl's open pussy just a little arousing. Or even a lot... Deborah was one of those girls who oozed sexuality, and the teacher had noticed when he caned her last time that she actually became visibly wet during the preparation and administration of her punishment.
The housemaster had an erection now and turned his back on the girls to fetch the cane from his desk. He paused for a moment and then lifted the familiar rod, smiled grimly and took the five steps required to place him behind Deborah.
Emma heard very little during these few minutes and just kept her face to the wall. And waited. She pictured her lover strapped to the horse, just like the first time she'd seen her on the day she arrived at Katherine Parr. She easily conjured up a vision of Deborah's firm buttocks and her sweet sex nestling between her thighs and then, just as easily, Mr Lindon standing behind her with the cane raised. Somehow it was easy to imagine the scene when she knew if she turned around she be looking right at it. SWISHHHH! The sound seemed so familiar, even though it was only the second time she had heard it. The fizzing sound of the long flight, much longer than seemed possible, seemed to sear right through to her heart - and she still had time to remember, "This is going to happen to me!"
Emma closed her eyes tightly and heard the terrible crack as the cane bit into her friend's unprotected cheeks, leaving, she knew, a heavy red welt. Then, as Mr Lindon prepared to strike again, she began to weep. Tears streamed down her face as though she were standing out in the rain, her body heaved with her sobs. Behind her, Deborah's caning was continuing at Mr Lindon's unhurried pace. But Emma was hardly aware of it now, she was too busy anticipating her own fate.
"OK, Emma. Your turn now!"
It couldn't be, could it? Deborah's punishment was already over? Emma turned round in time to see Deborah, her bottom marked even worse than last time, climbing stiffly off the horse to make room for her. As if in a trance she walked over to it, keeping her skirt up round her waist, and knelt on the two soft green pads at the base of the horse. She didn't move for a while, still not quite believing what was happening. Mr Lindon came over and gave her something to bite on before gently easing her over the largest pad and placing her hands on the two smallest ones on the far side of the contraption. It seemed like a replay of the day's earlier events, bent over to have her bare bottom chastised, and with her sex spread open in front of a man she hardly knew.
As Mr Lindon knelt down behind her to strap her legs in place, Emma felt a surge of heat through her pussy brought about by the simple proximity of this man to her parted thighs. Amazed to find her pussy displaying such a complete lack of loyalty, she closed her eyes then, and waited.
Standing against the wall, just as Emma had earlier, was Deborah. Indeed, part of the reason for her closing her eyes was so that she didn't have to stare at her friend's bare bottom, latticed as it with the proof of her punishment. Soon her bottom would look like that!
She heard a faint whistling sound, but not the thwack of wood against skin. The moment the cane touched her bare bottom, all her senses collapsed into one sensation - pain.
It felt like fire roaring through her body. Every nerve ending set ablaze furiously by the insistent caress of the rod. She desperately wanted to scream, but the gag prevented her and it seemed as though her wail of agony was trapped inside her and screeching round her mind along with the agony of the stroke itself.
Just one. She'd had only had one stroke. She vowed never, ever to get into trouble again, forgetting that it was Deborah who had directed the incident which had led to her caning. How could she take five more, not to mention another six tonight.
Mr Lindon watched the girl's squirming with sympathy. It was always tempting to go easy on a girl receiving her first caning, yet he knew that her marks would be carefully inspected by the other pupils afterwards and that lesser marks could lead to a doubled humiliation. Not only would the girl have had to endure a still painful bare-bottom caning, but her friends would be taunting her for not having even been beaten properly.
"No," he thought," if anything, a girl's first caning should be the hardest. After all, the idea is to persuade her that she doesn't want to return for a second.
With that in mind, and noting with pride the angry welts which were rising right in the centre of each cheek, completely overshadowing the marks left by Deborah's spanking of her with the ruler, Mr Lindon raised the cane again. The second stoke was perhaps an inch and a half below the first, and this time Emma heard the awesome sound of the rattan cutting across her. Her body jolted visibly and again the impossibility of crying out made her suffering still worse.
The burning sensation didn't stop after the blow had landed, each of the two sites visited already continued to blaze - their intensity dropping only very slowly. Emma knew that she would still be feeling not just a dull glow (as she had after her recent strapping over Amanda's knee) but acute pain for a long time to come.
She recalled that until two weeks ago, she had never even been spanked before. She remembered her outrage when her father had pulled her panties down to draw her over his lap for the first time and how she had screeched as he spanked her bare bottom with his hand. That seemed like the distant past now.
She wondered how things would change at home now. She knew that, according to the school rules, her parents would have been told of this caning and tried to gauge how they might react.
"They will probably be celebrating," she thought. She remembered her father's vow to bare her bottom as often as necessary while she continued to live under his roof and speculated about the kind of punishment she might now expect at home. Once they knew more detail about the kind of chastisement employed by the school, she guessed that her father was unlikely to be satisfied with hand-spankings for all occasions. She could quite easily envisage going home at half-term (pupils were not allowed home, even for weekends, during their first term at the school) to find that he'd equipped himself with a whole range of punishment implements with which to attend to her naked backside
Mr Lindon was leaving good long gaps "for reflection" between the blows. The third stroke was more painful still, right at the top of Emma's bottom where there was less fleshy padding and the girl felt as if she were being branded with a red-hot poker rather than caned.
She looked up to see, through her tears, Deborah's bottom in front of her. Her welts had really come up now, still a fiery red but with hits of purple at the edges. That was how she must look. She shuddered.
Number five found the spot between the marks left by the first two blows. If there were a competition for caning accuracy, Mr Lindon conjectured, he might do exceedingly well. As he paused before continuing, he let his mind conjure up the delightful picture of a great sporting arena with rows and rows of punishment horses, each one with a girl and teacher standing beside it. On a signal from the judges, each teacher would pull down the girl's panties, strap her to the horse and then lift up her skirt. Then the crowd would cheer as a hundred cute young bottoms were simultaneously caned. Smiling broadly at the image, he decided to act mercifully and deliver the remaining two strokes more rapidly and bring the girl's ordeal to an end. He laid one stroke just above the crease between buttocks and legs, Emma writhing under the cane as her vulva took part of the blow between her open thighs.
Then, to complete the six, he chose the one last unmarked area, between middle and top, and caned the girl one last time with maximum force. Mr Lindon left Emma where she was for a minute or two before gently unfastening the straps binding her legs and wrists to the horse and helping her to her feet.
"Good girl," he said quietly in her ear. "You've taken your first caning very well. Keep your skirt right up please so that I can see how effective the rod has been. That's right. I just hope that it has as pronounced effect on your behaviour as it has on your bottom."
"It will," Emma snuffled. "I promise."
"I'm very glad to hear it," Mr Lindon told her. "Now I want you to go and stand next to Deborah and the two of you can spend a few minutes reflecting on your misbehaviour and the penalty for it."
Sitting back behind his desk, the housemaster found his hand straying to the front of his trousers as he surveyed his handiwork. Guiltily he stroked his hardening cock through the coarse material, his eyes roving over the girls' prettily decorated bottoms. After a minute or two, his conscience roaring at him, he stopped touching himself and spoke loudly. "Very well girls, you may go. Emma, you may dress yourself but Deborah, you are to stay as you are. I don't want to hear from anyone that you have either changed into a longer shirt or skipped lessons. Is that clear?" "Yes, sir." Deborah had indeed been planning to change her top as the one she was wearing barely came down to her navel. Now she was stuck in it and she would have no way at all of protecting her well-beaten bottom, or her young pussy, from the eyes of others.
"Right. It's time for class. You'd better get your books and be off."