From the Top Shelf - Two

Last week we began the story "Three-Two-One" in which the heroine, Myra, must not only accept the punishment ordered by the court, but also arrange for it. He has already experienced the first of her three spankings here, and today she has two more to go, plus her two tawsings.

It was two days before Myra could pluck up courage to seek her next spanking, but she dared not wait too long. Girls who did not space out their corrections properly through the punishment period were liable to to find the last few days sheer hell. Sometimes they failed to complete the entire sentence in time - and that meant the horror of getting it all over again.

Myra went to her former headmistress. Miss Nicholls was quite used to visits from remorseful former pupils who had fallen foul of the law. She was often sympathetic when a girl had been silly rather than sinful, but those who expected leniency soon found out how mistaken they were. Miss Nicholls used a short leather strap with a smiling ruthlessness which had Myra sobbing out desperate pleas for mercy as she writhed across the ample lap.

"Please, Miss," said Myra afterwards, "shouldn't that count as a tawsing?"

Miss Nicholls shook her head. "It most certainly should NOT, young lady! You'll notice a difference when you feel a Lochgelly laid across your backside by an experienced hand. Come to think of it, I'll give you a note for my old friend Mrs Macilse. Promise you'll go to her, Myra!"

"Yes, Miss Nicholls," said Myra meekly.

For her third spanking, Myra went to Gunnar who turned her over his knee and smacked her shapely bare rear to a blazing cherry-red while Lucille, Toni and Cheryl watched. They were her dear friends and they were very fond of her, but there was a secret delight in watching her howling and kicking in tearful disgrace as her well-deserved spanking lasted a full ten minutes.

"One week gone," said Myra afterwards, " and three spankings taken. I think I'm entitled to a day to cool down!" So it was the following Monday when she arrived at the suburban house and presented the note from Miss Nicholls. The handsome, grey-haired woman read it and smiled. "It's a busy day for me. Come in, Myra, I'll attend to you as soon as I can."

There were already two girls in the room to which Mrs Macilse led her. One was tall and slim with long, glossy black hair tied in a thick plait by a red ribbon. Myra could not see her face, since she was standing in a corner with her hands on her head and her brown shift dress pinned waist high. Myra couldn't help looking at the girl's bare bottom and wished she hadn't. 'My God,' she thought, quaking, 'is that what the tawse does?'

Mrs Macilse noticed Myra's shocked glance. "Jenny's been a bad girl," she said casually. "I had to give her twelve, and, if she doesn't mend her ways she'll be back before the weekend for another dozen. When she comes out of that corner I'll send her to Dot Nicholls for a good skelping. She's only twenty but she thinks she's too old to be spanked. She'll soon find she isn't!"

"It's the shame of going across someone's knee that Jenny hates," said the other girl. "I think she'd rather be tawsed, even though it hurts more."

"I can guarantee her plenty of both," said Mrs Macilse. "Our well-connected Jenny will feel more at home with her knickers down than fully dressed by the time Dot and I have finished teaching her some manners. She'll be the best behaved girl in her social circle, believe me! Now, Angela, what did I give you last time?"

"Six," said the girl, unhappily, "but I got one on each hand as well." She was a fair-skinned, auburn-haired girl with a pert, pretty face. She looked about nineteen.

"That was probably a mistake," said Mrs Macilse. "You've got a nice, sensitive bottom and it responds beautifully to the tawse. I think I should concentrate on it, at least for the next three or four visits. Perhaps this time you should get twelve - all on your bottom."

"Oh no!" whispered Angela. "Oh please!" Her big grey eyes filled with tears.

"You'll have something to cry about in a minute," said Mrs Macilse. " Maybe twelve is too severe just yet, but you can certainly take nine. And so can you, Myra."

Myra found herself shaking. Three sound spankings inside a week had taken their toll in physical pain and demoralisation. It was hard to accept that the most severe part of her punishment was still to come. But she had no choice; each stage of her penance must be endured in turn. "I-I'm ready," she said in a shaky voice.

"Ready are you? My, you must be in a hurry." Mrs Macilse sounded amused. "You'll be begging me to stop, soon enough. You can watch Angela's leathering first and see what to expect." She pointed to the big sofa. "Over the arm, Angela, and we'll have a look at your cheeky bare bottom."

Over the arm went Angela. Her brief blue skirt was turned up and then she lifted her body a little to let Mrs Macilse pull down her knickers. Mrs Macilse ran an approving hand over the firm, round teenage rump. "It's remarkable how soon your marks fade," she said. "Not much sign of the last lot. Still, you'll soon have a fresh glowing set."

The idea of watching Angela's punishment, knowing her own would follow, did not appeal to Myra. "May I make a suggestion," she said. "Since there are two of us to be strapped, why don't you punish us both together? I could go over the other sofa arm and you could strap each of us alternately."

Mrs Macilse laughed. "Most of my visitors would rather postpone their tawsing than ask to have it sooner!" she said. "I really should keep you in suspense while you watch Angela being strapped but - all right, Myra, over you go."

Upended over the sofa arm, her head and shoulders next to Angela's from the other end, Myra felt her own skirt raised, her own bottom bared. "Let's hold on to each other," whispered Angela. "It will make it easier to bear."

Myra put her left arm across Angela's firm, warm back and felt an answering embrace. "Cuddles, eh?" said Mrs Macilse, reproachfully. "Naughty girls! I shall smack your legs!"

Myra winced as hard stinging slaps punished the backs of each thigh, heard Angela gasp as she suffered the same fate.

"And now," said Mrs Macilse, with unmistakable pleasure, " it's tawse time!"

She took the tawse from the table then walked around to stand behind Angela.

"Angela," she said. "You remember my friend, Mr Lochgelly, don't you? He wants to meet you again." There was the sound of tough leather thwacking solidly upon naked teenage buttocks and a shrill yelp from Angela. Myra lay, shaking with panic, aware that Mrs Macilse was walking round to her end of the sofa. "Mr Lochgelly," said the amused voice behind her, "loves to kiss pretty girls on the bare bottom!" Myra felt a sharp impact, and then a band of burning biting pain across the centre of her bottom. She yelled with shock, and if it had not been for Angela's firm clasp she might have jumped up.

To and fro strolled Mrs Macilse, from Angela to Myra and back again, pausing to contemplate each squirming, suffering feminine bottom before raising the tawse and delivering another scorching stroke. Myra and Angela sobbed and writhed and howled out their full-throated duet of abject misery as they endured a long, thorough, agonisingly efficient tawsing. When each had taken nine of the very best, Mrs Macilse spoke again. "And now, because you were bad girls and I had to smack your legs, you'll get a little something extra."

"Oh no!" wailed Myra

"We're so, so sorry!" blubbered Angela.

Crack! Crack! Mr Lochgelly kissed each girl once more on the tender lower curves of quivering buttocks already desperately sore and incandescently hot. Then they were allowed to rise, and this time Mrs Macilse raised no objection as they clung to each other, weeping noisily.

It's a little hard to count after reading that, but I believe there is still one tawsing to go, plus the caning.