Subject: EMMA AT SCHOOL Episode 14 - Going
Home
From: an674112@anon.penet.fi
(Rosewood)
Date: Sun, 21 Jul 1996 03:25:43 UTC
Emma and Deborah have found a new lover in Angie, but now it's Saturday morning and half-term has arrived. Emma hasn't seen her family for six weeks and is looking forward to her father's arrival with both excitement and apprehension....
"Daddy!"
Emma ran from the door as soon as the blue Escort drew up and the driver stepped nimbly out. Without checking her speed she threw herself into her father's open arms and held on as he swung her round. She kissed him twice and began to speak quickly:
"Oh, I've missed you all so much! Daddy, it's so good to see you again, it's seemed like such a long time!"
"Yes, it has for us too sweetheart," Mr Denning replied with a smile. "Come on, get in. Let's get on."
As the car swung with a elongated crunch out of the gravel driveway, Emma's father spoke again.
"So. How's school?"
"It's OK... no, it's great dad. I'm really enjoying myself!"
"I'm glad to hear it. What are the attractions?"
"It's loads of things. There's lots of activities outside class... and not having so many boys makes such a difference!"
"Like what?"
"Well, at my old school, the teachers spent so much time dealing with boys mucking about, they hardly had any time for teaching."
"I see. And what kind of... er, impact... has the change in discipline had on you?"
Emma didn't reply for a moment.
"Well, I think it's made me behave better."
"Just think?"
"No, it has."
"That's certainly what your housemaster says. And your work has apparently improved too? How do they manage to get your homework in on time?"
"Well, if you don't hand stuff in you get punished... right in front of the rest of the class."
"How?"
"You get the paddle."
"On the bare bottom?"
"No, through your knickers with your skirt up. Teachers aren't allowed to pull your knickers down in the classroom. But it still works."
"I can imagine." Then his voice became more serious. "I also hear from your housemaster that he had cause to give you the cane." Emma was silent again.
"Well?"
"It wasn't really my fault... I was..."
"Your housemaster," Mr Denning intervened, "told me that you had accepted your guilt."
"Yes," Emma agreed quietly.
"So when you say it wasn't your fault, is that the truth? Or are you lying to me?"
"It wasn't a lie..."
"So it was the truth?"
"Er... no."
"It must be one or the other, mustn't it?"
"I suppose."
"So, which was it?"
"A lie."
"Is lying something that escapes punishment at school?" her father asked.
"No."
"Then it won't escape punishment at home either. I hope that's clear."
"Yes, daddy."
"I understand your caning was on the bare bottom?"
"Yes."
"How many?"
"Twelve."
"And I don't suppose you'll be queuing up for another of those?"
"No."
"Good."
There were no more words for a few minutes until Mr Denning turned the car off the road at an unmarked driveway.
"Where are we going?" Emma asked.
"I thought it might be nice to stop for some lunch. Your mum and Kaitlin aren't going to be home until later this afternoon."
The car made its way along the driveway and past a gateway where Mr Denning showed a pass to a uniformed gate man.
"Is this a really posh place?" Emma asked, a little excited by the apparent exclusivity of the place.
"Not particularly posh. It's just a private club. I understand that they do an excellent vegetarian canneloni, though."
Emma smiled, pleased that her father had remembered her favourite dish. Having parked, father and daughter got out and made their way into the club which was almost empty with fewer than a dozen people eating or drinking. Whatever her father had said, it seemed posh to Emma, expensively decorated and staffed by uniformed waiters and waitresses.
While they ate, Emma told her father about her first half term, steering clear of punishment details except when he asked about them, and naturally avoiding talk of Deborah and Richard. When Mr Denning actually asked about who she was fagging for, she prayed that her blush wasn't noticeable as she explained that she was serving a boy and that he had the right to spank her - although only through her panties, of course.
"I'm not sure I approve of that," Mr Denning said with a frown. "I'm tempted to speak to your housemaster about having you changed so you're fagging for another girl."
"No, please don't. It would be really embarrassing. Richard is really nice. He'd never take advantage of me."
"Well," her father still looked unhappy. "Just make sure you tell me at once if he does."
"I will daddy, really."
"Very well. Now, about your lying to me. Go over to reception and ask if they can supply a strap for me to punish you with."
"What?"
"You heard me. Now do as you're told or you will make things worse for yourself."
"Daddy, please!"
Mr Denning looked his daughter sternly in the eye and said slowly, "Now you have made things worse. I strongly suggest that you do as I've asked!"
Tearfully, Emma rose from her seat and began to walk across to the club's reception desk. The reason for the club being private was now all too obvious and she was now extremely grateful that there were not more people around. The only question remaining in her mind was whether her father would take her to a private room to spank her, or whether it was permitted for him to punish her in the dining room.
"Yes, miss."
The attractive young woman behind the bar smiled at her and, as Emma took in her revealing outfit and short skirt, she suddenly realised what the penalty would be for making a mistake in her job and smiled back wanly.
"My daddy wants to know if you can supply him with a strap," she explained with a shaky voice.
"Of course. Is it for you?" the receptionist inquired. Emma simply nodded and the young woman knelt down behind the desk for a few moments and then stood up again holding three leather straps.
"What's it for?" she asked kindly.
"Er... well... he's going..." Emma began to stammer before the woman cut her off with a gentle chuckle.
"No, I didn't mean that," she smiled. "I meant what's the punishment for?"
"Oh!" Emma smiled back, relieved to have her confusion dispelled. "For lying."
The woman nodded and lad the straps out on the desk. "Choose one," she invited.
Emma picked up each one in turn. They were of similar, if not identical, weight, length, width and thickness and differed only in design. Each one was beautifully cut and decorated with patterns, flowers, or leaf designs. "They're beautiful," she murmured. "Are they really expensive?"
"I think so. They're hand made. Two hundred pounds each or something." The young woman lowered her voice. "But it doesn't make much difference when it's landing across your bum," she said, speaking from obvious experience. Emma pointed to the flowery one.
"Fine," the receptionist said. "A waiter will bring it over."
"I can't just sneak back over with it?"
"No chance," the young woman smiled. Then, seeing Emma's troubled face, "Don't worry. You'll get used to it here."
Emma made her way back over to where her father was sitting and explained what had happened.
"That's OK," her father told her. "No. Don't sit down. Lift up the front of your skirt, please."
"Oh, God," Emma thought as, hearing the command, the familiar creeping wetness grew between her thighs. She couldn't count the number of times she had replayed the last spanking her father had given her, or rehearsed the next one she would get, as she lay in bed at night. However hard she tried, she always failed to keep her hand from moving to her clitoris when she thought of her father's hands stripping her and now, as she lifted her skirt to expose her panties to him, her pussy flooded in the same way.
I+
To her father's eyes, the sight was astonishing. Tights were forbidden at Katherine Parr as they hindered access to a girl's bottom and Emma was therefore wearing stockings and a suspender belt. And within the black silk frame provided by these, were her brief white panties, surrounded by her pale and youthful flesh, and swelling alluringly.
For a moment, Mr Denning saw not his fifteen year old daughter waiting to be disciplined for her naughtiness, but a seductive teenager bursting with sexuality. He struggled for a moment to resolve that contradiction but then, finding it impossible, he simply reached out to take hold of Emma's panties and slowly drew them down. As Emma's feathery triangle of hair was exposed Mr Denning found he was holding his breath and he paused for a moment before continuing and lowering her knickers further to reveal the faint ruddy-pink hint of sex between her thighs.
He couldn't draw his eyes away from this picture of womanhood as he pulled her panties further down and only snapped his gaze away once they lay on the floor around her feet. His voice choked as he spoke again.
I
"Pick your panties up, put them on the table and then listen to me." Dropping her skirt back in place, Emma picked up her knickers, blushing as she felt the dampness - her dampness - in the cotton, and placed them on the pristine pink tablecloth. She knew that every eye in the room was on her and saw the waiter approaching with a silver tray on which lay threateningly the strap she had picked out. She watched as her father lifted the strap from its place and then laid it down on top of her panties before turning to her again.
"I told you that you'd made things worse by your disobedience, didn't I?" "Yes, daddy," she confirmed.
"Very well. Your lying has earned you twelve strokes with the strap. But before I strap you, you will choose one of the members in this room and ask them, very politely, to take you across their knee and spank your bare bottom soundly."
Emma only got as far as opening her mouth to protest before her father pre-empted her:
"There will be no debate about this. You will learn to do as you're told." Tears streaming down her face now, Emma turned away from her father and began to walk, not even looking where she was going at first. She almost walked straight to the door and out, but pulled herself back before she did. She had brought the extra humiliation upon herself be being disobedient. It was true that when her housemaster told her to do something, she did it at once. She was going to have to learn to obey her father in the same way.
She looked around the room again. Sitting at a table near the window on her own was a red-haired woman in her mid-thirties with a sharp suit and a kind face. Emma walked over to her, drying her eyes on the back of her hand and lifting her head high. Out of sight, behind her, her father watched with a smile of satisfaction and approval.
"Excuse me, madame," she articulated in a clear voice.
"Yes, young lady," came the reply. "What can I do for you?"
"I've been disobedient towards my father and I'm asking you if you would be prepared to discipline me for it."
"I see," the woman put down her book and looked up at the teenager standing by her table. "Do you not think that it would be more appropriate for your father to punish you for your disobedience?"
"Ordinarily, yes," Emma conceded. "However, I'm already to receive a strapping from him for lying. I didn't obey him when he told me to ask for a strap from reception so I think that's why he considers a... more public spanking appropriate."
"I understand. Are there any specific requirements?"
"Daddy just said a sound spanking on my bare bottom. Er... over your knee."
"Very well. My name is Ms Stanley, by the way. Come round here." The woman moved her chair back from the table and, as the other members looked on with interest, she patted her lap and took hold of Emma's hand, drawing her down over her knee.
As the red-haired woman lifted Emma's skirt up to bare her bottom, she looked over a the man from whose table Emma had come and nodded her head a fraction towards him. The man smiled and raised his glass to her and the woman couldn't help wondering what it would be like to give herself up to his strong arms in the same way that his daughter was now giving herself up to her.
She looked down. Exposed and expectant lay Emma's naked bottom, pale and unblemished, and waiting for her attention. She lifted her hand and began the spanking.
My most public spanking to date Emma thought as her first tears were drawn by Ms Stanley's professional slaps. Even the house public wasn't really public: it was completely predictable who would be there. Here though, any member of the club who happened to be in on that day would be able to watch her being spanked. And later on, of course, strapped too! She wondered whether her father would ever take the risk of spanking her in a truly public place like a library, or on a train, or in the street. She had, of course, fantasised about such events, yet the reality even of this semi-public spanking was intensely humiliating. She had seen several men get up and walk over to the window table to get a better look as Ms Stanley had put her over her knee. These men, who could be anyone, were now watching her bare bottom being spanked again and again by a woman whom Emma had never seen before in her life.
After a short while, Emma's thoughts were forced out of her mind by the sharp repeated pain of the woman's spanking of her. She was howling in the way she often did and kicking her feet fiercely under the force of the blows when the woman stopped and spoke to her:
"Young lady," she said in a stern voice. "If you not stop your kicking and twisting at once, I shall be forced to send for the strap myself. Or worse. Kindly keep still.
Emma kept still as the woman recommenced her solid spanking. "Or worse. What could that mean," Emma wondered. It could just be that they carry more severe implements than the straps; it was certain, she thought for example, that they must have canes here too. But somehow that wasn't what she had inferred from the woman's statement. It was not something worse than the strap, she felt sure, but something worse than sending for it. She knew that it was not a puzzle to which she wanted to know the answer. At least not yet. And, instead, Emma stopped kicking her legs and merely took the bare bottomed spanking which she knew she deserved for disobeying her father. "I'll try to do what I'm told, daddy. Honest," she whimpered as Ms Stanley finished off her preliminary spanking.
Afterwards she stood before the woman and thanked her for her attention. "You are welcome," the red haired woman replied. Then she added, "And if I happen to see you being badly behaved while you're here, or especially if I see you being disobedient, I shall call you over and your bare bottom shall feel my hand again. Is that understood?"
"Yes, Ms Stanley," Emma replied. So here too, as at school, the circle of people allowed to discipline me will swell with time, Emma thought.
The woman who had caused the painful throbbing in her behind now sent Emma back over to where her father sat, the strap now curled, cat-like, in his lap. As she got closer, she began to notice other differences. The pale pink cloth which had covered the table during their meal had been cleared away with the plates and dishes leaving the table-top a naked and polished oak. The room was no longer almost empty; there were now a large number of people sitting down or milling around and talking. Among them, Emma spotted a few girls of about her age and one or two boys, and she noticed with increased disquiet that one or two of the other teenagers were dabbing with handkerchiefs at tearful eyes. Amongst the adults too, she realised as she got closer to her waiting father, were a few women (although no men that she could see) who's faces also betrayed the experience of recent pain. And the great majority of all these people seemed to be moving in to form an audience around Emma's father.
Emma tried to ignore them.
"Daddy," she said quietly. "I've had my spanking. I'm sorry I was disobedient."
"So am I," Mr Denning replied. "Although I imagine that you are sorrier. I hope I've made it clear that further refusals to carry out my instructions will lead to you being similarly sorry?"
"Yes, daddy."
"Good. Now come here."
Emma stood in front of her father, despite her best intentions fully aware of the many eyes turned upon her, and closed her eyes as his hands found the clasp of her skirt and quickly unfastened it, the garment falling easily to the floor in consequence around her feet.
Everyone could see her, Emma couldn't help but appreciate. It might be her reddened bottom or her youthful pussy depending on their position, but she was on display now and any further attempt to disregard the presence of the interested observers was pointless. It took a considerable effort to avoid meeting their eyes.
Her father stood up and took her hand. He stood her on one side of the table and, for the first time, Emma noticed the velcro cuffs attached to the far side which had previously been obscured by the tablecloth. Emma's father dropped to his knee.
"Give me your foot, sweetheart," he told her. Emma looked down as her father guided her leg into place and found that each table leg was also fitted with a velcro cuff. As the table legs were almost three feet apart, Emma realised that this would have a very noticeable effect on the final view afforded to the onlookers if both were used.
"And the other." She tried not to ponder on the sight from behind as she allowed herself to be thus opened up, but closed her eyes once more and tried in vain to imagine that she and her father were alone.
"Please bend down over the table," he instructed her next. Emma did so, her wrists lying obediently beside the cuffs, and Mr Denning meticulously secured her hands in place. She had seen other girls in similar positions to this too many times to be unsure of her exposure. On that first day at Katherine Parr when she had seen Deborah bound to the punishment horse in Mr Lindon's office, she had been horrified as well as exhilarated by the way her posture spread her delicious pussy beneath her proffered buttocks. Here, she knew, her legs had been parted still further; and she could feel the coolness of the air as it gently caressed her open sex.
Emma's face burned and she waited for the bite of the strap to drive her humiliation from her mind.
When it came, the leather wrested a piercing scream from her on its very first cut. Mr Denning had only spanked his oldest daughter once, and that was with his hand, and was thus unable accurately to assess her reaction to the strap. His younger daughter, Kaitlin, he was more used to punishing, but he was aware that in the public arena which he and Emma now occupied he was using substantially more force than he had ever done on Kaitlin. Her screech of pain cut through to his heart and he held the strap high and still for a few moments, listening to his daughter's weeping.
Mr Denning struggled to take control of the situation. His daughter had been throwing her life away until she started at her new school. The harsh discipline code there had been a fundamental axis of her changed behaviour and demeanour - Emma had admitted that herself - and it was up to him alone to ensure that his daughter's attitude to discipline at home replicated her improved attitude at school.
WHACK! "Nooooooohhh!"
Tears formed in Mr Denning's eyes as his daughter's anguished voice echoed around the small room. Could it be right to hurt her this much? "But what about school!" he told himself forcefully. She has been caned on the bare bottom once there already and the pain of that must have been greater than her current trauma.
THWACK! "Oooooooowwwwww!"
The fact was that Emma responded well to stern chastisement. The pain of the beating was not the issue, the issue was the consequent improvement in behaviour. Gritting his teeth a little, he lifted the strap once again and cut a long arc through the still air which swished in anticipation of the subsequent crack of leather against bare skin - and the accompanying female yelp.
If her own father was not prepared to deal out the same level of punishment as her school housemaster, how could he expect to win her respect.
CRACKK! "Yooooooeeeeooo!"
Spare the rod and spoil the child.
FWACK! "Arrrrgggh!"
Mr Denning found the beating easier as it progressed. He shouldn't be surprised at his anxiety at inflicting pain on his own daughter, but neither should he shrink from it when necessary. CRACK! Apart from the one previous hand-spanking he had delivered to her, this was her first punishment from her father. It must set the right tone. CRACK! If he failed to guide his daughter from her wayward path to the "straight and narrow", he would look back on his failure to discipline her properly as the cause. CRACK! And so might Emma. CRACK! He had met a number of young ladies of Emma's age who were subject to similar regimes and found them all polite and attentive to their parents and their lessons. CRACK! She might be in pain now, but this punishment would serve, in the long run, only to strengthen her. He lifted his arm for one final blow.
THWACK! "Arrhhhhhhh! Daddddyyyyy!"
It was over. Dazed, Mr Denning unfastened his daughter's wrists and ankles and helped her to stand, still naked from the waist down but hardly noticing the fact. Emma was turned round to face the people who had watched over her thrashing and then felt her father leaving her side. A tall man in dark robes among those watching spoke to her in a deep growl of a voice.
"Young lady. I recognise that you are experiencing some pain, yet I have to ask you some questions. Please tell me when you feel ready." Emma dried her eyes on the back of her sleeve and tried to look unruffled.
"I am ready now," she told the man.
"Good. My name is Mr Stern - not my real name, you understand?"
"Yes," Emma confirmed. She remembered reading the "Story of O" which Deborah had lent to her in bed at night and was reminded of the fictional Roissy.
"Has your master told you anything about the club?"
For a moment Emma couldn't decipher his words, until she realised that her father was, to this man, also her master.
"No," she answered.
"Good. It is important that you answer my questions without discussion with your master. Do you understand?"
"Yes," she agreed.
"The club's name is ‘Bottom's Up' for reasons which I feel sure I do not need to explain to you. Your master is a full member of the club, and as such has the right to bring guests to the club once only. You may, therefore, not return here as the guest of your master. Do your follow me so far?"
"Yes."
"However, you may join the club yourself. You are unlikely to be able to afford the full membership fee, but you may become an associate member for free. This will give you the right to attend the club and use the facilities for free, including free meals and drinks. Among the facilities you have not seen is a swimming pool, sauna and massage room. You will be entitled to use any of these.
"You will also be entitled to bring guests, although you may only bring one guest each time you come and no guest may return as your guest on a second occasion. There are, of course, one or two differences between full and associate membership apart from the fees."
"Of course," Emma repeated quietly.
"Full members of the club may wish to punish you. This will usually take the form of a spanking upon your bare bottom in a private room. If a full member wishes to punish you more severely, or wishes to carry out that punishment in public, they will need to be able to prove misbehaviour of some sort on your part. If you agree that their punishment is justified, you may decided simply to accept the punishment stipulated. If not, you may appeal. In the event that you lose your appeal, the appeals panel will consent to the full member concerned punishing you in the manner they originally demanded. In addition, the panel will order that you be given fifteen strokes of the cane in public.
"Those are the membership rules in brief. Do you have any questions?"
"No," Emma said, her pussy pulsing with unexpected heat. Did her father realise that this offer was going to be put to her? What would he think of her if she accepted? Or did he want her to accept? She recalled his nervousness that a boy at school was permitted to spank her through some clothing (even if the reality was somewhat different), yet if she accepted associate membership of Bottom's Up she would be consenting to bare bottomed spankings from any member.
"I must ask you to make up your mind within the next two minutes - or to leave at once," the man with the gravelly voice told her firmly. Emma knew that she didn't need two minutes.
"My answer," she said in a confident voice, "is yes. I wish to become an associate member of Bottom's Up."
Emma couldn't see her father, who was behind her, and wondered what the expression on his face would tell.
"Lena! Yaluda!" The growl-voiced man spoke sharply to two of the girls of Emma's age. "Strip her and bring her to the Members Hall!"