I must caution you all to watch the demonstration closely and attentively, for there will be a quiz at the end, and woe betide those who do not attain full marks.
Vicky stood up slowly. As she took a halting step towards the front, the Reverend held out a hand, almost a gesture of welcome. Unthinkingly, Vicky took it and was immediately pulled rather more forcefully to the front of the room.Is it only lunchtime? What more does this day have in store for the four students?
"A good spanking needs to be felt to be effective. Many people would argue that, for that very reason, it should always be given on the bare flesh. I do not believe that to be the case." Still holding Vicky by the wrist, he sat down. "It is quite satisfactory to spank over clothing, provided that it is not too thick or protective, of course, although I would suggest that one layer is the maximum which should be permitted. This means that decorum may be preserved if you are in a situation where that is important. Young ladies may have their skirts raised and young gentlemen may be asked to lower their trousers, without offending the requirements of modesty if members of the opposite gender are present."
Vicky was standing as far away from the Reverend as her outstretched arm would allow. Looking her in the eye as he spoke, he pulled her closer. "As we observed yesterday, Miss Plum, the ritual is important. It is now time for you to present yourself in the traditional posture to be spanked. Come along now, over my knee, if you please."
It was obvious to Ruth that Vicky was not resisting very much, but then, she supposed, it probably wouldn't have done her much good if she had. With a show of mild reluctance, Vicky allowed herself to be drawn across the Reverend's knee. He arranged her carefully. Ruth could see that the protection offered by the very thin shorts Vicky was wearing was minimal. They were very skimpily cut, stretched tightly across her full bottom, and revealed a substantial amount of thigh. Ruth felt an itch in her groin, and only just resisted the temptation to scratch. Surreptitiously glancing down, she realised that her own athletics kit was no more protective than Vicky's. The itch grew in intensity as she considered the possibilities that might lie ahead.
"Unlike the more severe types of punishment, when an implement is used, and a set number of strokes applied, I believe that a hand spanking should be given for a duration of time." Reverend Mould had one hand in the curve of Vicky's back, holding her down, the other rested flat across her upturned bottom. "Miss Jamieson," Ruth jumped in her chair at the unexpected barking of her name, "Do you have a second hand on your watch?"
"Yes, I have."
"Very well, you will perform the timing function for me, if you please."
Vicky turned her face towards Ruth, as if to implore her to make the watch run faster.
"Miss Plum, the price of your woeful lack of attention is a spanking of one minute's duration, beginning now." On the final syllable, he raised his right hand to shoulder height and brought it down with a sharp slap. Giving Vicky no time to react, he broke into a steady rhythm, covering the entire area of her plump bottom cheeks in a random pattern of slaps. Vicky's face was a picture. At first, her mouth dropped open in surprise, then she started to squeal and yelp, almost as if she was play-acting.
Ruth watched, fascinated, as the full curves, their shape undisguised by the tight shorts, jumped and quivered with each smack. It certainly did not look like play-acting on the part of Reverend Mould, however. The room continued to echo to the slap of hard hand on soft bottom, the cries becoming more strained with each slap, and by the time Ruth's watch indicated that thirty seconds had elapsed, Vicky was crying real tears.
"Stop the watch!" Reverend Mould stopped his smacking. "Now I said that it was not necessary to bare the spankee's bottom for the punishment to be effective. However, I must point out that, even preserving this degree of dignity,it is still possible to redden the flesh in a way that only direct contact can achieve. How much of our minute remains, Miss Jamieson?"
"About fifteen seconds."
"I thought it must be about that. Very well, watch closely. Start the clock!" On the word 'clock' he resumed his slaps, if anything harder than before, but now aimed at the area of Vicky's exposed upper thighs. The sound of the slaps took on a notably sharper tone as did Vicky's cries. The unfortunate young teacher took at least six open handed slaps to each leg before Ruth called 'Time'. The Reverend immediately ceased his attack.
Vicky remained prone across the Reverend's lap for several seconds. Warily, she extended a hand behind her back and rubbed her bottom. "You may get up now, Miss Plum." The Reverend's voice was quite calm; he had obviously not extended himself unduly. "We have finished this little demonstration for the moment. You may go and sit down."
Slowly, Vicky got up from her undignified position and returned to her seat, her face as red as the hand prints which coloured the backs of her legs. Ruth tried not to stare, but wondered if sitting on the hard wooden chairs was the best thing for Vicky at that moment. Vicky winced as she lowered herself on to the chair, but smiled a watery smile at the three pairs of eyes which had followed her to her seat.
For the next ten minutes, Reverend Mould conducted a monologue on the subject of spanking, interjecting sharp questions at random to ensure that his audience was attentive. Ruth was aware of Vicky, wriggling uncomfortably, alongside her. She was acutely conscious that, at some point in the day, it would be her turn to make that lonely trip to the front of the class. She had no doubt now that this was the Reverend's plan. Each of the four students was going to suffer some kind of corporal punishment. The butterflies fluttered merrily in her tummy as she anticipated, just as the Reverend had planned, the sensations of having her bottom publicly warmed in front of this group of people that she hardly knew.
As his lecture drew to a close, the Reverend looked at Amanda and beckoned her to the front. "Very well, Miss Price, a little practical test, to see how much you have absorbed. I want you to take the role of the teacher in this little exercise and pretend that Miss Plum has gravely offended you. You must demonstrate to us all the facets of administering a good thirty-second spanking. Do not be tempted to think that because this is an exercise you may be gentle with your colleague. This has to be realistic, and, if I am not convinced, then you may be sure that when your turn comes, I shall remember any poor performance."
Amanda looked from the Reverend to Vicky, unsure at first what to do. "Go on, Mandy, don't worry, it will be all right." Vicky was surprisingly encouraging, thought Ruth. Amanda stepped forward and took her place on the chair vacated by Reverend Mould, who took up a position at the back of the class.
"Victoria Plum!" Amanda Price's voice was an octave higher than usual. "I do not believe you have listened to a word that has been said this last ten minutes. Come out here at once!" Vicky entered into the spirit of things; she immediately stood up and approached the seated Mandy with her head hanging in mock shame. "I know just what to do with you to get your attention. A good spanking is what you deserve."
Pretty hammy acting, Ruth thought to herself. Then a disturbing penny dropped. They had been divided up into pairs. That could only mean that, at sometime during the day, she was going to find herself upended over Stephen's lap, or worse. She clamped her legs firmly together as she considered this new facet of her predicament. It was bad enough that the Reverend Mould was going to spank her, but he was at least, well, neutral. Stephen was a rather different proposition. Look on the bright side, she told herself, at least you get to wallop him as well.
Amanda had now draped Vicky across her knees and, for the second time that morning, the petite schoolteacher was preparing herself to receive a good spanking. She was wriggling on Amanda's lap, clearly playing to the gallery, rocking her upturned bottom in a way which Ruth thought could only be considered deliberately provocative, but she was in for a shock. Amanda's next pronouncement was, Ruth thought, a stroke of sheer brilliance.
"Since it is clear to me that you are not taking this punishment very seriously, Miss Plum," she said primly, "I believe it will concentrate your mind wonderfully when I take your shorts down!"
Ruth quickly reappraised her assessment of Amanda's character. Perhaps the girl did have some spirit after all.
"Whaaat? No, please, you can't!" Vicky's bravado left her abruptly. Amanda inserted her fingers in the waistband of her victim's shorts and looked enquiringly at the Reverend Mould. The corners of his mouth twitched into a hint of a smile and he nodded approvingly. Despite her protests, Vicky lifted her hips slightly to permit the removal of her shorts , which Amanda proceeded to roll down to the victim's knees.
Vicky was wearing a golden-coloured thong, of a similar style to the one which Ruth had donned an hour or so earlier. She might as well have been completely naked for all the protection it gave her and, again, Ruth could see that Vicky's bottom was already a ripe-tomato colour over most of its surface; evidence of the firmness of the Reverend's hand. She felt a pang of sympathy, aware that her own turn was not so far away. She could feel herself contracting, lubricating, in spite of her instinct to get up and run.
"Will you oblige with the timing please, Miss Jamieson? Thirty seconds starting....now!" Amanda began to spank, diffidently at first but rapidly gaining confidence. Vicky's squeals blended with the sharp smacks of Amanda's open palm on her buttocks. Ruth almost missed the thirty-second timing point, distracted by images of herself, bottom up across Stephen's knees, which dominated her mind.
"A passable attempt." The comment came from the Reverend Mould as Vicky, beetroot red with embarrassment, eased herself up from Amanda's lap. Her embarrassment was not eased by the display of a grinning cartoon cat which emblazoned the crotch of her thong. I wonder if she is as damp as I am, thought Ruth.
"You could have made a little more of the build-up, I think, Miss Price. But, for a first attempt, not too bad, I suppose." Amanda looked relieved. I bet that doesn't get her off the hook entirely though, Ruth commented silently to herself.
"Very well, now seems an appropriate time to break for coffee."
"Please," Vicky held up her hand, looking every inch the chastened schoolgirl. "May I have some more of that Moon Balm. I'm very sore."
"Indeed you may, Miss Plum," the Reverend appeared magnanimous, "but NOT until lunchtime. I want the sensations you are feeling now to sharpen your awareness of the rest of our session...and I think they will do so most effectively." He smiled, as sincerely as a snake charming its prey, thought Ruth. "Shall we take coffee?"
The coffee break was not a very sociable gathering. Ruth took the opportunity to visit the ladies' room as soon as the little group had made its way to the dining room where the inscrutable stewards had set out the drinks and a plate of biscuits. When she returned to the room, there was none of the usual chatter of conversation. Vicky and Amanda were whispering together in a corner, leaving Stephen to his own devices on the the other side of the room. Of the Reverend and his staff there was no sign.
Ruth poured herself a cup of black coffee and looked across at Stephen. It seemed a bit rude not to speak to him, but what do you say to someone when you know that in an hour or two you will have each beaten the tar out of each other in most embarrassing circumstances? She was just weighing up how to solve the problem when the Reverend reappeared.
He clapped his hands to gain their attention. "I hope that you have all gained a little from the first part of our role-playing exercise this morning. Now I must ask you to rejoin me in the main hall. It's time we were moving on."
As they re-entered the main hall, the Reverend pointed at the display cases of implements mounted on the walls. "So far in our studies, we have examined the importance of psychology in administering punishment and we have done a little practical work on technique, of a very mild kind. Now it is time for us to look a little more at the equipment which is available to us, some examples of which we see here."
Ruth looked at the display case in front of her. It was about four feet long by two feet high, with a glass front and a polished-wood carcass with brass fittings. She reasoned that it must be quite old; the wood had a mellowed gloss which indicated that it had been lovingly polished many times over the years. In a different context, it would have been a handsome piece of furniture. However the contents, displayed so elegantly, made the short hairs on the back of her neck stiffen.
The centrepiece of the display was a curly-handled cane, resting on two wooden pegs protruding from the back of the case. Filling the full length of the case, it was the colour of old straw, with a pronounced knot every eight inches along its length. The wood at the handle end was thicker than Ruth's index finger; it tapered down to perhaps the diameter of her little finger at the tip. It was a distinctly heavier weapon than the cane she had used on Nicky Shaw. Ruth shivered as she made the connection with the event that was the cause of her being here in the first place.
Below the cane and also mounted on strategically placed wooden pegs, were two other objects which only increased her sense of foreboding. On the left hung a tawse; not a slim strap like the one they had all experienced the previous evening but a heavy belt, fully three inches wide and a quarter of an inch thick. A half inch diameter hole had been punched in the centre of the strap. From this hole to the end, the strap had been cut in a narrow-angled V to form two separate fingers, each a formidable strap in its own right. At the other end of the shining black leather, the tawse had been narrowed to form a hand grip.
Impressive as it was, it was not the tawse which held Ruth's attention.
The third exhibit in the case was a bundle of twigs, each twig about eighteen inches long. The stems were the thickness of a pencil at the base, tapering to almost nothing at the end. They were just as they had been cut from the tree, bark and buds still intact, and bound together tightly at the base with thin wire. Incongruously, the binding had been finished off with a piece of scarlet ribbon tied in a bow. Ruth was no botanist, but she guessed that the twigs had come from a birch tree. A birch! The very name made her shiver. She had never seen a properly made up birch before, and only read about such things in history books. She tried to imagine what such a thing might feel like, applied to the tender flesh of her behind, but could not.
"I see that at least one of the exhibits has caught your eye, Miss Jamieson." The Reverend's voice was heavy with irony. "We must be sure to satisfy your curiosity later. For now I want to discuss posture and presentation. Firstly a short film."
Ruth noticed that, while they had been taking coffee, the stewards had been rearranging the furniture at the classroom end of the hall. A folding screen had been erected to one side of the room, together with the projection apparatus. The four students took their places and listened to the Reverend as he introduced his theme; the importance of presenting the recipient in the correct position, not only from the point of view of giving the executioner a clear view of his target, but also to ensure the appropriate degree of humiliation imposed on the victim.
The talk was illustrated with short snatches of film demonstrating the various postures; and lasted for nearly an hour. Ruth heard very little of it; her mind being totally dominated by the thought that, with every moment that passed, she was getting nearer to what the Reverend had in mind. She had the highest number of points awarded against her of any of the students present, and it was obvious that this would decide the severity of her fate. Miss Greeves must have known this. Ruth wondered just what her boss had experienced during her own attendance on this course. Had she been a participant or just an observer? The thought of Lilian Greeves, whom Ruth held in great respect, kicking and wriggling, her bottom uppermost across the Reverend's knee, even brought a smile to Ruth's lips.
The lecture drew to a close and Ruth wondered if this would be the moment she dreaded. Would she be called to the front? She guessed not; holding the highest points probably meant that she was going to be the finale. Confirming her guess, the Reverend called out Amanda Price's name. It would not have surprised Ruth if the thin girl had refused. She did not look as if she was enjoying the course one little bit. Ruth had to admit to herself that, even though she was dreading her own chastisement with an intensity that seemed to be burning her very soul, the sight of her fellow students receiving their various punishments was also causing her no little excitement. Amanda, on the other hand, did not seem to be able even to find that relief.
The Reverend Mould had taken the same simple wooden chair on which he had sat when spanking Vicky and placed it against the large table. "I want you to kneel on this chair, if you please, Miss Price. Miss Plum, be so good as to open the second display cabinet on the wall there, the one which so clearly fascinates Miss Jamieson, and bring me the tawse you will find there."
"Oh no!" Amanda wailed as the word 'tawse' told her just what to expect.
"Be quiet, Miss Price, and kneel on that chair - unless you want to gain extra points!" Vicky Plum seemed quite eager to comply with her instructions and, after a second's pause, Amanda Price did as she was told and got up onto the chair, remaining upright and looking over her shoulder as Vicky handed the wicked-looking strap to the Reverend. As always, the Reverend Mould was cool and formal in his explanation.
"It is sometimes felt that it is necessary for the muscles of the recipients backside to be taut in order for the punishment to be effective. This is certainly the case when administering the cane, where the desired effect is for the sensation to sink in, bruising both the muscles and the ego of the offender. However, it is not so necessary to tighten the muscles when applying the tawse, which causes a more generalised sting, as I am sure Miss Price will shortly confirm. It has been my experience that a good result can be obtained with the recipient kneeling, as Miss Price is so decoratively demonstrating."
He smiled at Amanda who did not seem to be much encouraged.
"The great advantage of this is that there is less likelihood of the offender being able to move away at an inconvenient moment. So over you go, Miss Price. Six of the best is traditional, I believe."
Giving Amanda no chance to argue, he grabbed her right wrist in a very professional-looking arm lock and doubled her over the chair back, so that her bottom was facing the class and her torso draped over the table.
It was all over in little more than a minute, but it seemed much longer to Ruth. How long poor Amanda thought she was suffering for, Ruth could only guess. The strap rose and fell six times, Ruth counting softly under her breath to time the strokes. Each impact caused a sharp report, followed by an anguished yell from Amanda, who squirmed violently, causing the chair to squeak noisily on the floor, but failing to dislodge the Reverend's iron grip.
Ruth noted that, this time, and in contrast to his spanking of Vicky, the Reverend concentrated the blows on the lower curves of Amanda's bottom, and did not work down her thighs. Each stroke of the wicked leather flattened the tightly stretched shorts before bouncing back again. Amanda's small bottom just having time to regain its natural shape before the tawse struck again. It was obvious that the heavy tawse carried quite a momentum, so Ruth did not think that Amanda was going to find that having the strokes applied one on top of the other was any more merciful than being strapped on her bare thighs.
Eventually, the Reverend handed the tawse to Vicky Plum, who had been standing patiently to one side while her partner suffered.
"You may demonstrate how much you have learned by giving her three more strokes. Make them good ones, Miss Plum, or you will find yourself changing places with Miss Price!"
"May I take her pants down? She did that to me!" Vicky enquired with malicious relish.
"I think Miss Price's lack of enthusiasm and over-loud protests during my demonstration justify that penalty. Yes, indeed you may!"
"Oh no! Oh you bitch!" Amanda exclaimed through her sobs. The Reverend had released his grip on her wrist and it was a simple matter for him to move to one side, still holding Amanda face down across the table, enabling Vicky to take up her position behind her.
Amanda let out another loud wail as Vicky pulled her shorts down to her knees, revealing a pair of lacy pink panties. Most inappropriate for athletics wear, thought Ruth. Vicky must have had the same thought for, accompanied by a gasp from the audience and a horrified howl from the humiliated victim, she proceeded to pull the flimsy panties down Amanda's thighs.
The tall girl was revealed to possess a pert bottom; the twin globes rather muscular and with a deep cleavage which, in this position, clearly displayed her puckered anal bud. Ruth winced as she saw that the Reverend's application of of the strap had left deep crimson welts covering the entire lower third of the target area. The split between the two fingers of the tawse had raised pronounced stripes against the pale background.
Amanda screamed loudly as Vicky planted her first stroke, dead centre against her victim's bare bottom. The freshly assaulted area went white for a second before returning to an even deeper shade of red.
"Try to find some new ground, a little lower, I suggest," advised the Reverend, clinically examining Amanda's ravaged rear.
Vicky promptly obliged, planting two vigorous swipes in succession across the top of Amanda's legs. The sharp whack of leather on bare flesh was quite inaudible against Amanda's shrieks, which continued for several seconds after her arm was released and Vicky had place the tawse on the table beside her.
"That seems to be an ideal point at which to stop for lunch," observed the Reverend, calmly.
About that quiz - only kidding!
The story so far: