“Five,” the blonde girl counted. Her voice sounded disturbingly calm considering she was bent over the back of a chair getting spanked.
Carol, the tall slender girl wielding the leather paddle, appeared insufficient to the task. She swung with considerable effort, but the paddle’s impact was continuously flat. It lacked the sharp snap I expected from leather. And the blonde’s reactions were almost nonexistent. Carol’s features expressed a degree of frustration.
I turned toward Walter, he displayed a quiet sense of satisfaction with his hands clasped behind his back. “I thought spankings were generally given on the bare bottom.”
He smiled at me. “I’ve found that by varying the state of dress the Institute can better differentiate between minor and major infractions of the rules.”
“Eight,” the blonde said. Her pale legs remained rigid while the front of her skirt swayed slightly in response to the paddle’s breeze.
I shook my head. “I’m sure failing to push her chair in was a minor infraction, but the girl seems utterly unphased.”
“Ten.” Her voice lacked strain and emotion. She might as well have been a robot.
Walter looked me over as if I were a student. “Would you prefer the girl flailing about and begging for mercy?”
“No, of course not. I just tend to think a spanking should evoke some emotion and perhaps a few tears.”
“Fourteen,” the blonde said. A faint pinkness shined through her panties. The back of her right knee wobbled briefly. She was probably just tired of holding her legs straight.
He said, “As you gain experience you’ll learn that girls have varying levels of tolerance. In this case, Britney has been at the Institute for over four years and her ability to weather chastisement with little outward emotion has developed over that tenure.”
“Eighteen,” said Britney. There might have been the slightest warble in her voice.
“Wouldn’t a heftier implement applied to her bare bottom be more effective?” I asked.
“Twenty.” Her buttocks clenched momentarily. Maybe the spanks were beginning to sting. Then again, she might simply have been stretching her muscles.
Walter smiled. “Naturally, but what would I use to increase the punishment when she does something more serious?”
“I’ve heard a caning can be quite severe.”
Britney said, “Twenty-two.” Her head dropped, mopping the seat of the chair with her long hair and her fingers let go of the edge. There were no signs of tears or excessive discomfort, merely relief that the event was over. No doubt the back of the chair pressing into her tummy hurt more than the leather slapping her panties.
“Punishment,” he said, “need not be severe to be effective.”
I watched Britney right herself and push the chair under the study desk. Carol tucked Britney’s skirt into the waistband ensuring the panties and the pink glow beneath remained visible. Walking around in such a state would no doubt be embarrassing, but I couldn’t help feeling Britney lacked remorse. If she had a bright red bottom, nakedly exposed, and tear stained cheeks, I suspect regret and remorse would have been more readily apparent.
Carol pivoted toward Walter. “Is there anything else, Sir?”
Walter shook his head. “No, you can proceed to dinner.”
Carol flashed a smile and bowed her head. “Thank you, Sir.”
She turned back toward Britney. “Gather your books and march over to the cafeteria. You’ll spend the first thirteen minutes of dinner in the corner. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Miss Carol.” Britney lifted her materials from the floor, combined them with her things on the study desk and, followed by Carol, briskly walked from the room, her white panties still plainly displayed.