tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-75186472665760100832024-03-18T17:30:41.891-07:00Imagine The StoriesAshley Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14242036743645170042noreply@blogger.comBlogger216125truetag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7518647266576010083.post-10549303727598345142023-03-16T08:47:00.000-07:002023-03-16T08:47:36.490-07:00Family Business, Part 02<p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> Haley cried and sniffled while standing naked and red bottomed in the corner. Laura ignored her daughter and focused her attention on Trevor and Eliana. “Is the apartment really that bad?”<br /><br />“I don’t mean to complain,” Eliana said. Haley’s condition in the corner was first and foremost on her mind. Still, the small apartment’s deficiencies were something she could list off in her sleep. She would have spilled them all without a second thought if not for Trevor’s sharp squeeze on her thigh beneath the table.<br /><br />He said, “The heater is on the fritz and Dan is so swamped he told us he won’t be able to give it a look until late next week.”<br /><br />Laura shifted her gaze toward Eliana. “Definitely not a place for small children then is it? Why don’t you stay with us? At least until the heater is fixed.”<br /><br />Trevor cleared his throat and shifted forward in his seat. His hand remained firm on Eliana’ s thigh. “Thanks, Mom, but we’re alright. What we need is a house of our own.”<br /><br />Chuck flashed a grin and said, “My dad is breaking ground on a new family neighborhood off the north end of the lake this spring. The first homes will be ready come the fall. If you’re in a rush, there is the old Sander’s house off Pine Rock. Nobody has lived there for years. It needs a lot of work, but it’s available right now. I can take you guys out there tomorrow if you like.”<br /><br />Paul settled back in his chair at the end of the table. “Son, there is no good reason for you and Eli to be staying in that apartment, especially with a broken heater. You’ll stay here tonight and Eli can supervise bringing all your things over tomorrow. It may not be all the privacy you want, but your health and safety are more important. And Chuck is right. Those new homes are coming and we’ll get you and Eli into the perfect one once they’re ready.”<br /><br />Trevor tightened his grip on Eliana’s thigh. “We have a lease, Dad. We’re fine where we are.”<br /><br />“Without functioning heat your lease in null, son. I’ll take care of it and the move. No more arguments, you’ll move into the guest room until we can get you into a nice home of your own.”<br /><br />Eliana was torn. The only good thing about the apartment was the separation it provided from Trevor’s family. But if a few months living with them would net a new house, it seemed a small price to pay. Her gaze turned to Haley in the corner. Then again, if living under her in-laws’ roof meant submitting to their brand of corporal punishment, she wasn’t keen on the experience. Trevor was clearly against the move. To Paul she said, “We like our independence.”<br /><br />Laura smiled and leaned closer. “Of course you do and we’re not trying to take it away. This is a temporary arrangement that will make your lives better in both the short and long term. Besides, we’ll get to know each other better in the interim.”<br /><br />Paul said, “And you’re family.”<br /><br />“Eli and I know what is best for us,” Trevor said.<br /><br />“Then it’s settled.” Laura stood. “Eli, come with me and we’ll get the guest room setup.”<br /><br />“Mom—<br /><br />“Stop being stubborn, Trevor.” Laura took Eliana by the arm and guided her out of the room. <br /><br /><br /><br />The guest room was upstairs with a small balcony overlooking the backyard. It had it’s own bathroom, a large walk-in closet and was only slightly smaller than Eliana and Trevor’s entire apartment. The sparse furnishings made it seem even larger. A king-size bed with a leather padded headboard and a sleigh shaped footboard was the central feature. On the wall opposite the foot of the bed was a matching 12 drawer dresser with dual mirrors. Light beige carpet covered the floor. The walls were painted in a creamy coffee color and accented with bright white floor and ceiling moulding.<br /><br />Laura slipped into the closet and emerged with a stack of sheets. She deposited them on the dresser and extricated the fitted sheet, tossing it onto the mattress. Eliana took the right side and together they quickly stretched and tucked the bedding into place. Laura fetched the flat sheet and said, “You’re uncomfortable staying here.”<br /><br />Eliana singled out the top corner of the sheet and pulled it toward the headboard. “We moved here to be helpful, not to be treated like a couple of kids.”<br /><br />“Then maybe you should consider acting like adults.” Laura mirrored Eliana’s efforts tugging the sheet taut.<br /><br />Eyeing her mother-in-law, Eliana said, “Excuse me?”<br /><br />“I think you very much know your comment about the apartment was both petty and inappropriate.” Laura moved to the foot and tucked the sheet beneath the mattress.<br /><br />Eliana took a breath. She couldn’t blame Laura for being a little miffed. It would have been better to have just commented on the timing not being right for having kids. But with her own parents that always led to more arguments on the subject. “You’re not wrong. I would have apologized straight away, but Trevor wanted me to drop it. We’re not ready for kids and I’m maybe a little too sensitive about being pressured on the topic.”<br /><br />Laura stepped back and appraised their progress. “One or two blankets?”<br /><br />“How cold does it get overnight?”<br /><br />“Never below 60 in the house.”<br /><br />“One should be fine.”<br /><br />Laura disappeared into closet and returned with a thick brown blanket. “I wasn’t trying to pressure you into anything you’re not ready for.”<br /><br />“Every time I talk to my mother it’s the main topic of conversation.”<br /><br />“So you were responding to your mother and not me?”<br /><br />Eliana sighed and she helped smooth the blanket in place. “I don’t know, maybe.”<br /><br />“Can we at least agree it was inappropriate?” Laura asked.<br /><br />Eliana nodded. “I am sorry.”<br /><br />“I appreciate that, but in this family we expect apologies to be more sincere.”<br /><br />Eliana blinked at her mother-in-law. Had her tone or infliction been off or was Laura trying to create a problem between them? She took a steadying breath and said, “It was sincere. I know I shouldn’t have said what I did and I am sorry about it.”<br /><br />Laura presented a gentle smile. “I’m sure you are sorry, Eli, but what I’m talking about is your apology lacks the motivation needed to keep this sort of thing from happening again.”<br /><br />“Well, I can’t promise I’ll never say the wrong thing again. That’s not practical, but I can promise I will try my best to minimize it.”<br /><br />“You’re part of our family and Paul and I have a responsibility as parents to provide correction, guidance and motivation when you need it. I’m sure that’s not what you want hear, but if you and Trevor want to lead a happy life and takeover the business, you’re going to have to embrace the values of our family and this community. Otherwise you might as well pack up your things and head out to find whatever community it is that you want to embrace.”<br /><br />Eliana stepped back. “The whole reason we moved here is because you told Trevor it was time for you to pass the reigns to him. You’ve been dragging your feet on making it official for months and now you’re going to try to blame changing your minds on me because I was a little short with you at dinner?”<br /><br />“What happened at dinner is just a symptom of the larger problem. You’re not invested. And it’s not just you, Trevor is barely any different.” Laura sat on the edge of the bed. “Our family business is crucial to this community. You don’t seem to understand what that means and Trevor has lost sight of it. We can’t put everyone’s future in the hands of two people who don’t really care about that future.”<br /><br />Eliana balled her hands into fists as she stomped around the foot of the bed to stand in front of her mother-in-law and glare into her eyes. “So, you don’t trust me. You believe I’ve corrupted your son. You disrupted our lives. Wasted our time. And you have the nerve to suggest we’re the ones that don’t give a damn about other people’s futures? Who the Hell do you think you are?”<br /><br />Laura met Eliana’s gaze with squared shoulders and a stiff back. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t you have a job before moving here?”<br /><br />“A career that I gave up to support Trevor’s desire to help his family.”<br /><br />Laura nodded. “You’re angry about what you gave up to be here. That’s not what Paul and I wanted.”<br /><br />“What did you think was going to happen?”<br /><br />“We thought you would join Trevor at the company. Learn our business and eventually run it together like Paul and I have done for the last 30 years.”<br /><br />Eliana’s brow furrowed and she shook her head. “What?”<br /><br />“We thought it was something you both wanted. Trevor is invested in your happiness more than anything else. You’re not happy and you’re not invested in being happy here. You’ve got both feet out the door and Trevor is just a half step behind you. We’re not going to stop you from leaving, but we aren’t going to put the fate of this entire community in your hands either.”<br /><br />Eliana relaxed her hands and sat on the bed beside Laura. “Trevor and I have been trying to make this work, but no one ever said there was a place for me in all of this.”<br /><br />Laura took hold of Eliana’s hand. “There is if it’s what you want. You don’t have to work at the company. There are other ways to be a part of the community, but if you aren’t a part of any of it there is nothing to motivate you and Trevor. We just need to know that you care about more than yourselves.”<br /><br />Eliana sighed. “And actions speak better than words.”<br /><br />Laura smiled. “I know you care about Trevor because you’re here with him. I want to believe you can care about our business and the people here, but I haven’t seen any indication of it. So show us what you care about and then we’ll all know whether or not bringing the two of you home was worthwhile.”<br /><br /><br /><br />Eliana and Laura returned to the dining room. Haley remained naked and red bottomed in the corner, though her sniffling had subsided. If the guys had been talking they silenced themselves before they could be heard. More likely, they’d focused on clearing away the wrapping paper and Haley’s gifts. It also appeared one of them had wiped down the table. The two women took their seats.<br /><br />“All good?” Paul asked.<br /><br />Laura smiled. “The bed is made.”<br /><br />Eliana said, “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m ready for some cake.”<br /><br />Trevor cleared his throat and reached for Eliana beneath the table.<br /><br />Paul chuckled and said, “I think you’re right. Haley, are you ready to blow out your candles?”<br /><br />Trevor relaxed and patted Eliana’s thigh.<br /><br />Haley said, “Yes, Dad.”<br /><br />“Join us,” Paul said.<br /><br />Haley turned away from the corner and tiptoed to her place at the table. It was only then Eliana noticed her sister-in-law’s chair had been withdrawn and tucked into the alcove next to the sideboard. Haley’s clothing was also gone and nowhere in sight. If Haley was the least bit concerned, she gave no outward sign of it. Under the circumstance, she was probably more concerned about the paddle still laying on the table and her undoubtedly throbbing buttocks.<br /><br />Paul retrieved a lighter from the top of the sideboard and ignited the numbered candles on the cake. At the same time, Laura fetched an actual camera and a tripod. While the flames danced atop the candles, everyone posed individually and in various groups with Haley. Laura and Paul took turns snapping the shots and then set a timer for a full group picture. Wax dribbled onto the top of the cake for the final few snaps.<br /><br />Laura led the family in a rowdy rendition of Happy Birthday. The song ended with laughter, applause. Haley leaned down and blew out her candles while Paul captured the action shot. For Eliana it was a disconcerting series of events. The pink flush brightening Haley’s cheeks and forehead reflected the obvious embarrassment—humiliation even—of the situation.<br /><br />Haley remained elevated on her tiptoes. Her hands pressed firmly to the back of her head. The stance emphasized her nakedness throughout everything. It was an obvious intentional accompaniment to the punishment evident in the glow and heat emanating from her buttocks. And yet everyone, Haley included, exuded the feelings of genuine happiness and celebratory delight. Positions reversed, Eliana would have been enraged or defiant or running away.<br /><br />Paul turned to Chuck and asked, “Would you like to help the birthday girl out and cut the cake or shall I?”<br /><br />“I’ll do it.” Chuck rocketed out of his chair and sidled himself next to Haley. He kissed her cheek and carefully lifted the 5 candle from the top. Chocolate frosting clung to the bottom. He brought it to Haley’s mouth and she licked the frosting clean while his fingers massaged her back. And then he placed it on a white paper napkin and repeated the process with the 2. He picked up the cake knife and methodically marked the top edge of the frosting with a shallow cut every 30 degrees. Only then did he carve out slices for everyone and serve them onto the decorative plates. Chuck passed the plates around with the final one resting in front of Haley. Finished, he sat down.<br /><br />Eliana hesitated expecting Haley to pick up her plate and take the first bite. That was how it always worked in her family. But Haley didn’t move from her punitive stance. Only her eyes moved toward the slice of cake.<br /><br />Laura noticed and said, “Don’t worry, someone will help Haley enjoy her birthday cake in a little bit.”<br /><br />“Oh,” Eliana said, “I’m just used to the birthday girl or boy getting the first bite.”<br /><br />Paul said, “We consider that a privilege and it’s one Haley didn’t earn this year. Hopefully, she’ll be a little more dedicated to good and responsible behavior over the coming year once her birthday punishment has concluded.”<br /><br />“I promise I got the message, Dad,” Haley said.<br /><br />Laura said, “I hope so, but your track record over the last three years isn’t encouraging.”<br /><br />Haley sighed. “You have to admit I’ve already improved a lot since the holidays.”<br /><br />“True,” Paul said, “however, a couple months of good behavior doesn’t erase everything that’s happened. We want you to believe you’re on the right track and if you are it’ll become obvious over the next year.”<br /><br />“I know and come next year, you’ll be proud of me.”<br /><br />“We’re already proud of you,” Laura said. “But you have some growing up to do and it’s our job to help correct, guide and motivate you when you need it. Right now, as unpleasant as it is, you need some of that.”<br /><br />“I assure you the loss of my clothes and the application of the paddle has provided me with an abundance of all three. Any chance you’ll turn the heat up? My rear is burning, but the rest of me is freezing.”<br /><br />Paul shook his head. “You know the rules. Besides, it wouldn’t be much of a punishment if you were comfortable, now would it?”<br /><br />Haley let out a shallow huff. “No, I guess not.”<br /><br /> Paul flashed his daughter a sympathetic smile. “At least you’re going to be well motivated.”<br /><br />All except Haley dug into their slices of cake. Eliana couldn’t help glancing at her sister-in-law from time to time. In part, she wondered how Haley managed to hold her position. Of course, with closer inspection, there was obvious strain and effort involved. Haley’s legs and arms trembled. And she swayed ever so slightly shifting her weight from left to right. There were occasional blips of vertical movement too as Haley no doubt attempted to assuage her exhausted calf muscles.<br /><br />Eliana’s also wondered what it would feel like to be in Haley’s place. Not just the physical taxation, but more the emotional state. Exposed. Humiliated. Helpless. Punished. Beyond the blushing and pursed lips, Haley didn’t reveal much of what she was feeling. Was it because Haley had grown accustomed to being in such situations or was she merely putting on a stoic face that would fall away as soon as she was secure in the privacy of her bedroom? The latter seemed more likely.<br /><br />When Chuck finished his slice of cake, he began feeding Haley hers. She bent down, keeping her head up. Chuck delivered bite after bite to her lips, slow and steady. His free hand massaged her back, occasionally dipping to her reddened buttocks.<br /><br />After Haley swallowed the last bite, Paul said, “I think it’s time to retire for the evening. Haley, you’ll clean everything up here and, when you’re finished, take the paddle back to the shed.”<br /><br />“Yes, Dad.” Haley appeared relieved as she lowered her hands and collected plates from around the table.<br /><br />Chuck stood and said, “I should be heading home.” He interrupted Haley’s work to give her a kiss and Paul walked him to the front door.<br /><br /><br /><br />Upstairs in the guest room, Trevor shut the door and sat on the bed beside Eliana. “I’m sorry about this. If you really want to leave, we’ll leave.”<br /><br />Eliana shook her head. “It’s fine. Maybe better than fine. I had an interesting talk with your mom.”<br /><br />Trevor raised an eyebrow. “Should I be worried?”<br /><br />“I don’t know.” Eliana shrugged. “What has your dad said about why he hasn’t handed over the reigns to you?”<br /><br />“Not a lot, but I’ve been getting the impression he’s afraid I’m not going to stay. The thing is, I’m not going to stay if he doesn’t start trusting me. In fact, I wanted to talk to you about this earlier. I think I need to give my parents a deadline. Make it clear they can’t just string me along.”<br /><br />“From what your mom told me tonight, I think they’d tell us to just go then.”<br /><br />Trevor cocked his head to the side. “What did she say?”<br /><br />“Your parents don’t believe we’re invested in making a life here and they won’t turn the company over to us until they’re convinced otherwise.”<br /><br />He grunted and said, “They’re not wrong, are they?”<br /><br />“Yeah, but neither are we. We have no guarantees from them and tonight is probably the most honest your mom has ever been with me. And it wasn’t pretty from either of us. I’m glad it happened in private because I think we both had some serious misunderstandings we needed to clear up.”<br /><br />“What are you thinking?” Trevor asked.<br /><br />Eliana shrugged. “Your mom made it clear they aren’t handing the company over to you. They want to hand it over to both of us, but only if we’re committed to the company and the community. So, can we trust your parents?”<br /><br />“Right.” Trevor took a deep breath. “Before we moved back here, I would have said absolutely. Now, I just don’t know. We’ve already sacrificed a lot and if we leave, it’ll have been for nothing. And it will take it us a year or two to get back to where we were. I don’t know if I’m willing to commit without some kind of certainty about our future here.”<br /><br />“I agree,” Eliana said. “I’m willing to go to work for the company, learn the ropes and whatever else we need to do to build a life here, but not without assurances that we won’t be spending the next decade or two living under your parents’ thumbs.”<br /><br />“I’m not so sure that’s a good idea. You don’t want to work for my parents.”<br /><br />She took his hand. “If I don’t, we might as well leave.”<br /><br />“We talked about this. My parents barely cut Haley any slack at the office. They won’t cut you any. I won’t put you through that.”<br /><br />“I’m not that fragile. If this is really what you want, I’ll play their game. But only if we get a formal commitment from them. They can’t expect us to be all in if they’re not willing to do the same.”<br /><br />“They might tell us to take a hike.” Trevor exhaled and shook his head.<br /><br />She shrugged and squeezed his hand. “Then we call their bluff.”<br /><br />“And if it’s not a bluff?”<br /><br />“Then we prove we’re not bluffing either. Or we cave to their demands. It depends on if this is what you want and how badly you want it. I’ll follow your lead and do what you need me to do.”<br /><br />“What about your family?” Trevor asked.<br /><br />She chuckled at him. “This morning wasn’t about my family. It was about me feeling isolated and lonely. You mom presented a pretty good solution to that.”<br /><br />“OK, let’s try to make this work. I’ll talk to my dad tomorrow about the four of us having a private meeting.”<br /><br />“I’ll get our stuff moved over here.”<br /><br />Trevor laughed.<br /><br />Eliana raised an eyebrow. “What?”<br /><br />“We don’t even have pajamas for tonight.”<br /><br />“I can think of worse things than sleeping naked with you.”<br /><br />He pulled her to him, ran his hands through her hair. She nibbled on his earlobe. He kissed her neck. She unbuttoned his shirt. He unzipped her dress. She let the dress fall to the floor and kissed his lips. He tossed his shirt across the room and finished undressing her. She unfastened his belt. He pushed her onto the bed and shimmied out of his pants and boxers. Somehow his socks were still on. She cared only enough to smile as he climbed atop her and pinned her to the bed. His lips caressed her neck, her breasts, her navel…<br /><br />Her eyes fluttered shut, she gasped and arched her back into the mattress. She bit into her lip. His tongue sent the first wave of euphoria rippling through her naked body. His hands forced her hips still. She strained against him. Two shuddered breaths later, she surrendered to him.</span></span></p>Ashley Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14242036743645170042noreply@blogger.com12Rancho Santa Margarita, CA 92688, USA33.6408255 -117.588194533.626533795100961 -117.60536063769531 33.655117204899035 -117.57102836230469tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7518647266576010083.post-49518467068629930292023-03-04T21:42:00.002-08:002023-03-04T21:43:37.419-08:00Family Business, Part 01<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs88c0nPz2w0DvPZXHeED8eBhXHiCbb0jvgKmw2NFX7ntD4mEeV3asucGh0SWj2ZkFArL5hhi0Q3eizPBqefVogXeqDCzb9XKbpNZowCzLX9mLEUF6ioQQUgfxvGnl-iyFOJe4juktyOQdtRAWYmcM4yzT8slmckV-iq_QRBQQ5C16IJxoffp0jCuO4w/s1600/Family%20Business%2001.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs88c0nPz2w0DvPZXHeED8eBhXHiCbb0jvgKmw2NFX7ntD4mEeV3asucGh0SWj2ZkFArL5hhi0Q3eizPBqefVogXeqDCzb9XKbpNZowCzLX9mLEUF6ioQQUgfxvGnl-iyFOJe4juktyOQdtRAWYmcM4yzT8slmckV-iq_QRBQQ5C16IJxoffp0jCuO4w/s320/Family%20Business%2001.png" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;">“Do we have to?” Eliana Hanson nursed her morning coffee allowing the brown ceramic mug to warm her fingers. The central heat was working overtime raising the apartment’s temperature back into the habitable range after being dormant throughout the night. At least she could no longer see her breath.<br /><br />Her husband, Trevor, joined her at their black barstool table just off the kitchen. He spread an unhealthy gob of cream cheese onto his cinnamon raisin bagel and dropped a half dozen brown sugar cubes into his travel mug coffee. “It’s Haley’s birthday, so yeah.”<br /><br />Haley was Trevor’s sister. Eliana recalled her own twenty-fifth birthday. She couldn’t imagine wanting to spend it with her parents and brothers. Instead, she’d partied half the night away with friends and the rest had been spent more intimately with Trevor, first in a hotel hot tub and then onto a plush sofa before ultimately ending in naked, euphoric exhaustion on the suite’s carpeted floor. Parents and siblings didn’t leave much room for that sort of fun.<br /><br />She set aside her mug and hugged her red winter robe tighter. “It’s really not a party? I mean doesn’t she want to celebrate with her friends?”<br /><br />Trevor chuckled. “Haley has never been much for parties. It’s just going to be dinner and dessert. Other than Chuck, it’ll just be family and that’s how she wants it. I don’t know why it bothers you.”<br /><br />Eliana sighed and shrugged. “It doesn’t really. I guess I’m just not big on feeling like we’re obligated to do all this stuff. When I agreed to move here, you promised we’d still live our own lives.”<br /><br />He pushed his half eaten bagel aside and frowned. “I don’t think of celebrating my sister’s birthday as an obligation.”<br /><br />“That’s not what I meant.”<br /><br />“Then what do you mean? I thought you liked Haley.”<br /><br />“What I’m saying is the only time we do anything social anymore it involves your family. We haven’t spent anytime with my family since our wedding.”<br /><br />“Your closest family lives fifteen hundred miles away. Mine is less than a mile. You want me to pretend it’s all equal?”<br /><br />Eliana groaned. “Just forget it. I’m wrong, you’re right, same as always.” She grabbed her mug and took a big sip that burned her tongue. It didn’t matter. Nothing she felt mattered.<br /><br />“You know what?” Trevor slid out of his chair and pressed the lid onto his travel mug. “If you don’t want to come tonight, then don’t. I’ll tell everyone you’re sick or something.”<br /><br />“You’re not getting what I’m trying to say to you and I don’t know how to make it clearer. That’s why I told you to forget it. We’ll go, make everyone happy. It’s all fine.”<br /><br />“Obviously it’s not all fine.”<br /><br />“Yeah, well it’s not going to get fixed before dinnertime either.”<br /><br />He took a deep breath and stepped back from the table. “If you’re going to be in a bad mood—<br /><br />“I’m not. I told you it’s fine.”<br /><br />“Look, it’s Haley’s birthday, don’t ruin it.”<br /><br />“Is that what you really think of me?”<br /><br />Trevor grabbed his car keys from the nearby junk counter. “I’ll be home around 5:30. If you want to go, be ready and be in a better mood. Otherwise, I’ll go by myself.”<br /><br />Eliana glared at his back as he walked to the front door. When he turned back with his hand on the knob she fluttered her eyelashes and said, “Love you.”<br /><br />“Same, Babe. See you tonight.” Shaking his head, he left and locked the door behind him.<br /><br /><br />Eliana donned her favorite sweater dress for the evening and matched it with tights and a pair of suede boots. Her husband’s family didn’t really do formal outside of weddings. Something else she missed about life before moving to Trevor’s hometown. She pushed the thoughts aside. He’d be home any minute and she didn’t want another fight. Especially since she couldn’t articulate the problem. It was real. It needed to be dealt with. But not before dinner on Haley’s birthday. Patience and a little extra time to understand what she was feeling wouldn’t hurt.<br /><br />Trevor came through the front door, punctual as always. He looked tired. His hair was windblown as if he’d drove with the windows down. He stripped off his tie and threw it on the back of the couch. It slid over and pooled onto the left cushion. “You ready to go?”<br /><br />Eliana smiled and took his hand. “Bad day?”<br /><br />“I’m beginning to think Dad is never going to trust me to run the place on my own.”<br /><br />She slipped her hand onto his back and massaged. “Probably not a good night to have this conversation.”<br /><br />He forced a chuckle and kissed her. “You’re right. But we do need to talk about all this. I didn’t move us back here to be miserable.”<br /><br />“I know and I’m really sorry about this morning. I’m not angry with you.”<br /><br />He put on a smile and said, “It’s OK. Are you ready?”<br /><br />She picked up the wrapped present for his sister from table and nodded. “I am if you are.”<br /><br /><br />Soon after Eliana and Trevor arrived, his mom, Laura, called the family to dinner. Laura had prepared a feast of beef ribs, baked beans and corn on the cob. The aroma of smoky barbecue permeated the entire house. It was self serve with Haley getting first pick on account of being her birthday. Her boyfriend, Chuck, complimented Laura on the meal following his first taste of the meat. Eliana assumed he’d have praised the culinary skills even if it had tasted of charcoal and sand. Not that it did.<br /><br />Trevor’s dad, Paul, raised his glass of beer and said, “Happy birthday to my baby girl!”<br /><br />Haley smiled and took a sip of her red wine. “I’m not a baby anymore, Dad.”<br /><br />Paul shrugged. “No need to throw a tantrum.”<br /><br />Haley shook her head and picked up the spoon beside her plate. “Would you rather I catapult some beans your way?”<br /><br />Paul laughed. “If you did that I’d have to send you for the paddle.”<br /><br />“Aren’t you going to anyway?” Haley asked with a raised eyebrow.<br /><br />Chuck shifted in his seat.<br /><br />Paul said, “I would think by now you’d know the difference between a birthday spanking and a punishment.”<br /><br />Haley set the spoon down with a short giggle. “You’re too easy to tease, Dad.”<br /><br />Paul leaned back and smiled at Haley. “Probably true, but as I recall, about a decade ago, you actually flung those beans.”<br /><br />Haley nodded. “Gotta watch that memory in your old age. It was nine years ago on my sweet sixteen.”<br /><br />Chuck blinked. “Seriously?”<br /><br />Laura said, “She did indeed.”<br /><br />Eliana leaned forward. “I can’t imagine that ended well.”<br /><br />Paul polished off another rib. “Just a spot of fun, Eli. Don’t tell me you’ve never enjoyed a good food fight?”<br /><br />Laura shook her head at the ceiling. “Only someone who has never scrubbed the stains out of laundry can call a food fight fun or good.”<br /><br />Haley laughed. “That’s not true. I helped scrub those stains out.”<br /><br />“You mean you helped smear them in better,” Trevor said.<br /><br />Haley shrugged. “Six, half dozen.”<br /><br />Laura said, “Yeah, like cleaning your room is synonymous with shoving everything under your bed or into your closet.”<br /><br />“Whatever works, right Dad?” Haley said.<br /><br />“I’ve never said anything of the sort.” Paul chomped into his corn.<br /><br />Haley said, “Agree to disagree, I guess.”<br /><br />“So you weren’t punished over it?” asked Chuck.<br /><br />Laura said, “Only if you count making her help me with the laundry as a punishment.”<br /><br />“Don’t let Mom fool you. She’s a real taskmaster when it comes to chores.” Haley eyed her mom as she sipped her wine.<br /><br />Laura shook her head.<br /><br />Paul said, “I would never punish my daughter over a joke. Even a bad one.”<br /><br />Chuck said, “I don’t think my parents would have considered me throwing food at them a joke.”<br /><br />Eliana said, “Mine would have definitely sent me to my room to think about my behavior.”<br /><br />Paul finished the last of his beer. “I’m not going to punish my kids for having fun. I’m going to laugh and have fun with them.”<br /><br />Haley said, “And that’s why we love you, Dad.”<br /><br /><br />Eliana helped Laura clear away the dinner dishes. Paul and Trevor repopulated the table with gifts. And Laura brought out a homemade chocolate birthday cake with a pair of numbered candles. Originally the candles indicated 52. Haley popped up from her seat and hunched over taking small steps and rubbing her lower back. In a creaky voice, she said, “I gotta stretch the old bones out.”<br /><br />Everyone laughed. Paul switched the candles around. “To have a baby girl that old, I’d had to have been robbing the cradle when I was still in the cradle.”<br /><br />Laura grinned. “The perfect cover for a cradle robber.”<br /><br />Haley straightened and put her hands on the back of her chair. “Please, I don’t need to picture my parents in diapers together.”<br /><br />Trevor nodded. “It’ll happen soon enough.”<br /><br />Laura laughed. “I better have a house full of grandkids before that day.”<br /><br />“Not as long as we’re still living in a crappy apartment,” Eliana said.<br /><br />The laughter faded.<br /><br />Trevor said, “I think it’s time for my baby sis to open her presents.”<br /><br />Eliana bit her lip. Apologizing seemed like it would only make things more awkward.<br /><br />Haley slipped back into her seat and picked up the biggest box. She shook it and frowned. “No rattle.”<br /><br />Chuck leaned into her. “Three guesses.”<br /><br />Haley sized up the package. “Something small wrapped in too much packaging.”<br /><br />“What makes you say that?” Chuck asked.<br /><br />“It’s about as heavy as the box should be.” Haley sat it down and carefully peeled the tape on the end.<br /><br />“You haven’t guessed yet.” Paul said.<br /><br />Haley waggled her head. “It’s jewelry.”<br /><br />Chuck exhaled. “How do you do that?”<br /><br />Haley laughed and finished unwrapping the box. A second rectangular box rested in the center of it surrounded by wads of tissue paper. She slipped the lid off the second box exposing a heart-shaped locket on a thin gold necklace. Three small diamonds were set in the face of the locket. She leaned into Chuck and kissed him. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”<br /><br />Eliana watched the couple with a smile. Chuck wasn’t her type, but he was sweet. His love for Haley was obvious. The way he looked at Haley reminded her of Trevor back in their dating days. Somewhere along the way the magic had faded. Maybe what they had now was better, but she missed that spark in her husband’s eyes whenever he looked her way. Was it wrong to want the thrill again?<br /><br />Trevor pushed their gift toward his sister. “Eli insisted on wrapping it.”<br /><br />Haley took the gift and locked eyes with Eliana. “You’d think boys would understand that unwrapping is half the fun.”<br /><br />Eliana nodded. “Trevor is still on the fence when it comes to trusting my judgment.”<br /><br />Haley sighed. “So, it’s a gift card instead of something for Chuck to unwrap later.”<br /><br />Chuck blushed.<br /><br />Eliana laughed. “I tried to tell him.”<br /><br />Haley turned to her brother. “Next year, trust your wife.” She unwrapped the small box and removed the plastic gift card. “Well, at least you let her pick the store.”<br /><br />“As long as you’re happy,” Trevor said.<br /><br />Haley got up and rounded the table. She kissed her brother’s cheek and hugged Eliana. “Thanks.”<br /><br />“Happy birthday,” Eliana said.<br /><br />Haley returned to her seat and spent the next several minutes unwrapping gifts from her parents. She guessed each item with unwavering accuracy. They’d loaded her up with a variety of new clothes and an expensive new phone. She gave her parents each a hug and a kiss with her thanks.<br /><br />Paul leaned back and asked, “Did you get everything you wanted?”<br /><br />“I can’t complain.”<br /><br />Laura said, “It’s almost time for cake then.”<br /><br />“Right,” Haley said. She chewed on her lip for a moment while staring at the table. “I suppose I should go get the paddle.”<br /><br />Paul said, “You’ve got a few things to work on for the year ahead, most notably, punctuality. If not for that, tonight really would be just a few token swats.”<br /><br />“I know.” Haley nodded. “I’ve only got myself to blame.”<br /><br />Eliana raised an eyebrow, but decided to keep her mouth shut. She wasn’t entirely up on the Hanson family traditions, but she’d never considered a birthday spanking to be more than a lighthearted joke. Between the expressions on Haley and Paul’s faces, she gathered they weren’t discussing a joke. Or maybe the somberness was part of their family joke. She wasn’t sure and didn’t want to spoil anything.<br /><br />Haley got to her feet. “Be right back.”<br /><br />“Hold up,” Laura said. “I think this lesson needs to have a clock and some urgency on it. You need to be back with paddle in less than five minutes or you’ll be getting double the swats. And before you head out to the shed for it, I want you to strip down to your birthday suit and fold all you clothes neatly onto the seat of your chair.”<br /><br />Haley gawked at her mom.<br /><br />Paul eyed his wristwatch and said, “The clock starts now.”<br /><br />Haley whirled toward her dad and seemed to realize her parents weren’t joking. Her cheeks flushed. “It’s freezing out.”<br /><br />“All the more reason to be quick,” Laura said.<br /><br />“Please,” Haley said with her big eyes focused on her dad, “I promise I won’t waste a second.”<br /><br />Paul shook his head. “You’re already wasting time. Keep it up and this punishment could follow you to office as well.”<br /><br />Haley’s jaw quivered.<br /><br />Eliana watched in a combination of shock and fascination as Haley looked from her mom to her dad and then sighed. A moment later Haley was tugging her boots off. Her jeans followed. She folded them into a square and placed them on the seat of her chair. Her shaking hands pulled her thick sweater up over her head and tugged it free of her wavy hair. It took her three attempts to fold it properly. She kept her gaze low and away from everyone else at the table. Her socks went next.<br /><br />Haley’s hand hovered with momentary indecision and then quickly moved to unlatch her bra. She hid her breasts from view as long as possible and then gave up as she laid her fold bra atop her sweater. Her fingers found the waistband of her panties and she yanked them south. It was clear there was no longer a point in stalling or trying to hide anything. Naked and red faced, Haley stood still for a moment with her hands dangling beside her legs.<br /><br />Laura huffed and her lips parted as if to say something.<br /><br />Haley jolted. She popped up on her tiptoes and raised her hands to the back of her head.<br /><br />Laura settled back in her chair.<br /><br />Paul said, “Best get moving. You’ve got less than the two minutes to get back here with the paddle.”<br /><br />Haley sucked in a deep breath, turned and darted from the room on her toes. A moment later, the back door off the kitchen rattled open and clapped shut.<br /><br />Eliana tried to ease her discomfort with the situation by shifting in her seat. It didn’t help. She wanted to ask Trevor about the situation, but feared it would spark trouble with his parents. The last thing they needed. Not to mention Trevor had good reason to still be frustrated with her, given her thoughtless response to his mom’s desire for grandkids.<br /><br />Paul focused on Trevor. “Something on your mind?”<br /><br />“I guess I was just hoping things had changed a bit more than they have.”<br />Laura said, “Haley has known for a good month that tonight was going to involve a motivational birthday spanking. She agreed it was deserved.”<br /><br />“Would her disagreeing change anything?” Trevor asked.<br /><br />Paul sighed. “It’s a parent’s job to give their kids what they need even when it’s not what they want. One day you’ll understand this.”<br /><br />Trevor grabbed Eliana’s hand under the table and squeezed. “I just hope she doesn’t catch a cold. It really is freezing out there.”<br /><br />“A couple minutes chill isn’t going to hurt her,” Laura said. “However, the paddle striking her cold butt will light a fire she won’t soon forget.”<br /><br />Chuck said, “I’m not thrilled about the situation either, Trevor, but she really does need to learn to be on time.”<br /><br />“I suppose it’s not really any of my business,” Trevor said.<br /><br />The kitchen door rattled open and slammed shut. Haley tiptoed back into the room shivering. Her skin was covered in goosebumps. She still held her hands to the back of her head with the paddle’s handle pinched between them. Her cheeks were rosier than when she’d left.<br /><br />Paul looked at his watch. “14 seconds to spare.”<br /><br />Haley’s teeth chattered.<br /><br />Paul stood and took the paddle from her. “Let’s get this over with. Touch your toes.”<br /><br />Haley didn’t hesitate. She bent forward and dropped her arms to stretch out toward her feet. The paddle crashed into her buttocks. She whimpered. Paul raised the paddle and swung it down. It impacted like thunder. Haley’s body swayed under the force. She grunted and sniffled. Paul drew the paddle back and slammed it into her buttocks.<br /><br />“Oh! Ow!” Haley stretched and wavered.<br /><br />Paul was unfazed. He delivered three more swats in quick succession.<br /><br />“Ow! Oh, it burns! Ow! Ow! Ow! Oh, please!” Haley wriggled and swayed under the onslaught.<br /><br />“It’s only going to get hotter,” Paul said. “Hopefully, you’ll learn the lesson this time.”<br /><br />Haley sniffled. “I have, I swear.”<br /><br />“Not yet,” Paul said. He delivered six more swats in the same harsh fashion. The thunderous claps echoed off the walls.<br /><br />Haley’s movements intensified as did her yelps and pleas for mercy.<br /><br />Paul ignored them. He rested the paddle against her buttocks. “What time should you arrive at work?”<br /><br />Haley choked back tears and gasped for air. “8 AM.”<br /><br />“Wrong.” Paul delivered two hard swats. “Try again.”<br /><br />“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. At least five minutes before 8.”<br /><br />“Better,” Paul said. “How long do you have for lunch?”<br /><br />She sniffled. “An hour.”<br /><br />Paul laid on two more swats. “You’re to be back at your desk within an hour. If you spend an hour away, you’ll be late. Understand?”<br /><br />Haley’s body jiggled. “Yes, Dad. I’m sorry.”<br /><br />He delivered three hard swats. “Don’t be sorry, be punctual.”<br /><br />Haley yelped and squirmed. Her voice squeaked as she said, “I will. I swear.”<br /><br />Paul raised the paddle. He brought it down six more times hard and fast. Haley gasped for air between sobs as her body roiled under the swats. Paul raised the paddle high and paused. His jawline hardened. “Last one, to think and grow on.”<br /><br />The paddle clapped against her reddened buttocks. Ripples jolted through her body. Her head jerked up. She cried out in shock and pain. Fresh tears burst from her eyes. New sobs racked her body.<br /><br />Paul lowered the paddle and said, “Up you get.”<br /><br />Haley gasped for air and sniffled a few times before raising herself upright. Her hands wriggled in the air near her waist as her legs trembled. She looked around the room, face flushed red and tears streaming down her cheeks. Her gaze lowered. “I’m sorry.”<br /><br />Paul touched the bottom of her elbow and she immediately moved her hands to the back of her head. A breath later and she was back on her tiptoes. He placed the paddle on the table next to the cake. “I think you could use a few minutes in the corner to collect your thoughts and fully appreciate the motivating power of a well-spanked butt.”<br /><br />Her lips quivered. “Y—Yes, Dad.” She tiptoed into the corner.</span><br />Ashley Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14242036743645170042noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7518647266576010083.post-17520546750055489332012-11-19T07:00:00.000-08:002012-11-19T07:00:10.900-08:00Rosecliff, Episode 040<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYq78OaQNoet09e2uILe6YBVFYwsNYtIlqU31cxmEvqjvXiJXNGVQHTQilWAG0uoJXu1R3IK-xQeI-JkBJzn824D8P6P4TVh1F3x4vzHuyR_VUIiSTaF5RPuT-2uCjmih8e8liUxC6P3xy/s1600/TRICover01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYq78OaQNoet09e2uILe6YBVFYwsNYtIlqU31cxmEvqjvXiJXNGVQHTQilWAG0uoJXu1R3IK-xQeI-JkBJzn824D8P6P4TVh1F3x4vzHuyR_VUIiSTaF5RPuT-2uCjmih8e8liUxC6P3xy/s320/TRICover01.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.16912312200292945" style="font-weight: normal;"></b><br />
<h2 dir="ltr">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.16912312200292945" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 19px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Margaret Lange</span></b></h2>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.16912312200292945" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I’ve come to realize that life is full of choices that are simultaneously wrong and right. My father called these moments the choosing of the lesser of evils. For him it was typically about elections, selecting the politician who was the less dishonest, the one who was less bribed by the lobbied interest of the creme de la creme of society. Of course there was no true evil in those choices. The men and women who choose a life in public service may not always make the best judgments, stand behind the best policies, but I doubt any of them ever desire the annihilation of our society, of our way of life. They promote that which they believe is the best course for the future and sometimes their beliefs are right and sometimes their beliefs are wrong. That’s the truth which is too often ignored. Right and wrong are not often choices between good and evil, but rather a course followed because of what we believe.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.16912312200292945" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Jocelyn believed it was wrong to withhold a meal just because someone broke a rule. I was inclined to agree, but the leadership of Rosecliff had the opposite view. What was right to us was wrong to them and viceversa. In making these kinds of choices we reveal not only what we believe, but the fiber of our character. And that’s because not everyone will stand up for what they believe. In a place like Rosecliff, I didn’t expect to find many who would have the backbone. After all, the choice which landed me within their walls was made in complete opposition of everything I believed. The fiber of my character was more flexible than I cared to admit.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.16912312200292945" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Natalie, our roommate, was spanked at breakfast. Mr. Boggs did the deed with the medium lexan paddle, on the stage, in clear view of the entirety of Rosecliff’s assembled students, teachers and staff. The swats were hard. Eye-clenching. Ear-wrenching. Back-shuddering. I felt them in my bones. Natalie’s trembling voice echoed in the cafeteria as she counted the swats. I watched the event, not because I desired to increase her shame, her embarrassment, but rather because I wanted to lend her strength and courage. As it drew to an end I wondered if this was why the administration chose to so often spank in the cafeteria. Did sharing in the experience, punish us all? Did it make us more or less likely to take up that place on center-stage?</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.16912312200292945" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">In that moment, I began to understand that the inevitability of spankings at Rosecliff was not so much a factor of the strict rules as it was a matter of my own resolve to retain something of who I was before I came through the gates. I think all the girls of Rosecliff shared in this flaw and it was only toward the end of their stay that any learned-- realized, that they no longer wanted or needed to be the person they once were.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.16912312200292945" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Jocelyn saved a strip of bacon and half her biscuit, slipping it inside the front V of her jumper. The folds of fabric hid the bulge well enough that only a thorough inspection would note its presence. I tossed aside my fears of getting caught and ending up like Natalie or worse and copied my new friend. Her heart was in the right place and it was time I started making a stand for the things in which I believed.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.16912312200292945" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">After breakfast, we rendezvoused with Natalie in an unoccupied corner of the hallway just off the main course toward the classrooms. Natalie hugged us both before wolfing down the food. A few girls cast us curious glances at they walked by, but we were careful. Nothing was obvious and the passersby most likely thought we were consoling our roommate. And in a way, that was true. Food can be a great a comfort when you weren’t supposed to get any.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.16912312200292945" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Everything went according to plan until I was sitting in Mrs. Rosecliff’s classroom and the Dean’s assistant walked in the door without so much as a knock. She whispered in Mrs. Rosecliff’s ear. They both turned and looked at me.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.16912312200292945" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Mrs. Rosecliff said, “Margaret, the Dean will see you in his office immediately.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.16912312200292945" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I actually smiled. Getting caught doing what I thought was the right thing, wasn’t the worst thing that could happen. At least I had a reason and just maybe, someone might listen before bending me over for my second spanking since arriving. I rose to my feet. “Yes, Mrs. Rosecliff.”</span></b></div>
Ashley Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14242036743645170042noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7518647266576010083.post-78596592220128151192012-11-16T07:00:00.000-08:002012-11-16T07:00:01.079-08:00Rosecliff, Episode 039<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYq78OaQNoet09e2uILe6YBVFYwsNYtIlqU31cxmEvqjvXiJXNGVQHTQilWAG0uoJXu1R3IK-xQeI-JkBJzn824D8P6P4TVh1F3x4vzHuyR_VUIiSTaF5RPuT-2uCjmih8e8liUxC6P3xy/s1600/TRICover01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYq78OaQNoet09e2uILe6YBVFYwsNYtIlqU31cxmEvqjvXiJXNGVQHTQilWAG0uoJXu1R3IK-xQeI-JkBJzn824D8P6P4TVh1F3x4vzHuyR_VUIiSTaF5RPuT-2uCjmih8e8liUxC6P3xy/s320/TRICover01.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9899491993710399" style="font-weight: normal;"></b><br />
<h2 dir="ltr">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9899491993710399" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 19px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Britney Pearce</span></b></h2>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9899491993710399" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Mr. Boggs said, “Stand here.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9899491993710399" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I moved to the position against the office wall, looking toward the open space. Carol stood in the open space. She had removed her uniform. It was neatly folded and sitting on top of the desk. Mr. Boggs had made her fold each piece exactly as if she were putting away her laundry and for each mistake, there have been two, she had to put the garment back on, take it off and try again. The action seemed ruthless.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9899491993710399" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He opened a cabinet behind the desk and retrieved the medium sized lexan paddle. It cast a temporary reflection of me in it as he turned it toward Carol’s backside. She couldn’t see his approach, but the shiver that ran down her spine told me she knew he was coming. He touched the clear paddle against her buttocks.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9899491993710399" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Touch your toes,” he said.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9899491993710399" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She widened her stance an extra couple of inches and bent forward. Her butt seemed to be pushing itself higher into the air and firmer against the paddle. She closed her eyes rather than looked at me through her parted legs. I wished I had the same luxury, but Mr. Boggs had already made it clear he expected me to watch.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9899491993710399" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He looked back toward me. “Pay attention, Britney. A monitor must learn how to deliver a good spanking if she’s to gain the respect of her peers.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9899491993710399" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Yes, Sir,” I replied. It was probably unnecessary, but I felt certain that a single mistake in my behavior while in the office would result in me assuming the same position as Carol. I preferred watching to participating.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9899491993710399" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He raised the paddle, not so much up into the air as back away from her butt. When he swung, the paddle cut through the air with a whir and the impact echoed like a hammer driving home a nail. The flesh of butt was squished, flattened underneath the paddle. And when it pulled back, her butt bounced while the skin colored with flush of hot blood.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9899491993710399" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The strain in Carol’s voice explained how much it hurt. “One, Sir.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9899491993710399" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He delivered another fifteen swats in the exact same manner. Carol’s breathing turned ragged and I could see tears slipping from behind her eyelids by the sixth of them. Her voice quivered and broke and she even sobbed a bit on the last two. Her butt turned darker and darker, the skin glistening under the paddle’s relentless attack. I watched it all, blinking at each impact, but reopening my eyes in an instant. It might have been fear of getting caught, but also on some level I did want Carol to learn her lesson about bullying, abusing the power of her position. Getting spanked was part of life at Rosecliff and we all accepted that, but it went down easier when we knew it was by a fair interpretation of the rules that we were being punished.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9899491993710399" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Mr. Boggs turned back toward me and motioned me forward. “It’s your turn.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9899491993710399" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I raised an eyebrow. “Sir?”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9899491993710399" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He put the paddle in my hand and stepped away from Carol. “Aim for the center of her buttocks and swing with control, not power.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9899491993710399" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I hefted the paddle in my hand, it’s balance felt awkward, heavy toward the tip. It took me a moment to find a comfortable grip. I aimed it against her butt and looked at Mr. Boggs. It seemed unreal that he wanted me to paddle her.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9899491993710399" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He nodded. “Give her between five and ten swats. It’s your choice.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9899491993710399" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">With Mr. Boggs choice was a pseudonym for test. If I gave her too few, he’d consider it a failure and if I gave too many he’d consider it just as bad. Finding the balance between right and wrong or in this case deserved and undeserved was the point of the exercise.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9899491993710399" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I decided on eight. It felt incredible to deliver them. The slight rattle of the paddle on impact was like a buzz of approval in my palm. Hearing Carol count and politely call me, </span><span style="font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Miss</span><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> while a faint sob strained her voice felt a lot like justice. Maybe being a monitor wasn’t such a bad thing. I could make things fair, hold my peers accountable for the wrong deeds they’d done.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9899491993710399" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">After the last swat, I held the paddle at my side and reached out toward her naked, quivering butt. It felt hot, not quite the same burning Carol likely felt from the inside, but warm to touch like she’d stood too close to a fire. And that was the truth in a certain light.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9899491993710399" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Well done,” Mr. Boggs said. “Escort Carol upstairs and have her move her things into your room and your things into her former room.”</span></b></div>
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9899491993710399" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I handed the paddle back to Mr. Boggs. “Yes, Sir.” I grabbed Carol’s arm. “Come along Carol, you’ve got work to do.”</span></b>Ashley Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14242036743645170042noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7518647266576010083.post-87029202422268417352012-11-15T07:00:00.000-08:002012-11-15T07:00:06.058-08:00Rosecliff, Episode 038<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYq78OaQNoet09e2uILe6YBVFYwsNYtIlqU31cxmEvqjvXiJXNGVQHTQilWAG0uoJXu1R3IK-xQeI-JkBJzn824D8P6P4TVh1F3x4vzHuyR_VUIiSTaF5RPuT-2uCjmih8e8liUxC6P3xy/s1600/TRICover01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYq78OaQNoet09e2uILe6YBVFYwsNYtIlqU31cxmEvqjvXiJXNGVQHTQilWAG0uoJXu1R3IK-xQeI-JkBJzn824D8P6P4TVh1F3x4vzHuyR_VUIiSTaF5RPuT-2uCjmih8e8liUxC6P3xy/s320/TRICover01.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.13058333843946457" style="font-weight: normal;"></b><br />
<h2 dir="ltr">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.13058333843946457" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 19px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Margaret Lange</span></b></h2>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.13058333843946457" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I sat at a small table with Jocelyn during evening free time. She had decided from the start we would be friends, I had no objection, and from that point on we were together more than we were apart. Class time accounted for the most of our separation. I was enduring the indoctrination courses, being taught the essentials of life from the ground up as if arrival at the institute had not only stripped me of my dignity but of all knowledge beyond the rudimentary skills of breathing and communication. Jocelyn had progressed beyond those core classes and was enjoying a taste of real education. One of the highly touted benefits of choosing Rosecliff was the ability to gain a college degree in a variety of fields.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.13058333843946457" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Jocelyn’s most endearing quality was her simple ability to fill the silence that might otherwise drive me insane. She said, “So there we were, sitting in Mr. Gunther’s class, you know the math teacher. We’re taking Advanced Algebra, I passed it in high school, but I guess I didn’t do so well on the placement exam, but I don’t test well and maybe I was a little nervous because math like isn’t my favorite subject and while I passed it in high school, I only barely passed it so I guess it’s OK that I’ve got to take it again. But anyway so there we were, Natalie and I and like twenty other girls, most of them I’ve only seen in the cafeteria at meal times cause I don’t think they live in Tanzanite, but of course they are part of Rosecliff and must live in the other houses but I don’t know which ones cause I don’t really know them and hadn’t really paid that much attention before. I’ll have to see if I can figure it out this week during meals.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.13058333843946457" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I nodded. Stories were never straight forward from Jocelyn, but that didn’t really matter. I just liked listening to her talk. “That will give us something to do.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.13058333843946457" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Yeah,” Jocelyn said. “Well me, because you can’t find them cause you don’t know who they are or what they look like cause you aren’t in the class, but I guess you can help me keep track as figure it out. So where was I? Oh yeah, Natalie. So like we’re sitting there in Mr. Gunther’s class and she’s like hardly sitting still. Have you ever notice Natalie can’t ever seem to sit still. It’s like she always has to be doing something with her hands or tapping her feet. Do you think it’s like a disorder or something? Maybe she needs to be medicated. I don’t know. But anyway, she like pulls out her notebook and pencil and starts doodling in it. Can you believe it? Doodling in class? Like where does she think we are, in high school? This is like well, you know the expletive, starts with an F, rhymes with mucking, Rosecliff.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.13058333843946457" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Right,” I nodded. My gaze had left Jocelyn in favor of watching Miss Watts. Someone had apparently left the new teacher in charge for the evening and she was enjoying herself at the expense Ms. Chambers, who was definitely not enjoying anything. It still rattled me that the teachers and staff were disciplined along with the students. And Ms. Chambers was being disciplined for something. She was naked, her buttocks were a shiny red that almost looked like she’d had them oiled as well as spanked. I doubted that was the case though. Miss Watts was standing over Ms. Chambers, who was literally down on her hands and knees, scrubbing at the tile floor with a toothbrush.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.13058333843946457" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It seemed Miss Watts found the manner of Ms. Chambers floor scrubbing to be insufficient to the task. She was clearly enjoying the opportunity to make Ms. Chambers repeat her work. And of course, in Rosecliff style, Miss Watts was utilizing a paddle to drive home her dissatisfaction. Three swats every time she told her to clean a spot over. I did feel sorry for Ms. Chambers, but I also recalled Ms. Chambers putting Miss Watts into embarrassing positions in the corner. Perhaps this was just a fair turn of events. I imagine my judgment on the matter fails to account for the full scope of events and choosing compassion for one over the other was probably unwise. Still, I found on a gut level I empathized with Ms. Chambers.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.13058333843946457" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Jocelyn continued with her story. “Well of course, Mr. Gunther noticed. He was none too happy either. Grabbed the lexan paddle handing on the wall by the door and called Natalie right on up to the front of class. She was super nervous. I don’t blame her a bit. I’d have been scared stiff, but I wouldn’t have been doodling in the first place. I mean really, who does something that stupid in class? Natalie, of course. Not that Natalie is dumb. She’s not. I like her. She’s been a roommate since I got here and we’re friends, but still that was like really not a good idea. Anyway, Mr. Gunther stripped her right down to her socks and shoes. And I mean he seriously did it. He wouldn’t let her undress herself. He took her clothes off piece by piece and totally humiliated her, turning her every which way so he and the whole class saw everything. I was blushing for her and so was like half the class and I think I said before, most of them we don’t even know. And then he paddled her, touching toes. I think it was like twenty-two swats and she has to walk around in just socks and shoes until bedtime tomorrow. That definitely s--mucks. She’s going to get paddled at breakfast too and that means no food for her until lunch tomorrow. Do you think I should sneak her some breakfast in the morning? I know I’d like it if I was in her shoes if someone did that for me. But if I get caught it could be like really bad for me. What do you think? Should I?”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.13058333843946457" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I turned my attention back to Jocelyn and shrugged. “If you think you can do it without getting both of you into more trouble, sure.”</span></b></div>
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.13058333843946457" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Jocelyn smiled. “I knew I liked you.”</span></b>Ashley Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14242036743645170042noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7518647266576010083.post-21330205304183002322012-11-14T07:00:00.000-08:002012-11-14T07:00:03.109-08:00Rosecliff, Episode 037<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYq78OaQNoet09e2uILe6YBVFYwsNYtIlqU31cxmEvqjvXiJXNGVQHTQilWAG0uoJXu1R3IK-xQeI-JkBJzn824D8P6P4TVh1F3x4vzHuyR_VUIiSTaF5RPuT-2uCjmih8e8liUxC6P3xy/s1600/TRICover01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYq78OaQNoet09e2uILe6YBVFYwsNYtIlqU31cxmEvqjvXiJXNGVQHTQilWAG0uoJXu1R3IK-xQeI-JkBJzn824D8P6P4TVh1F3x4vzHuyR_VUIiSTaF5RPuT-2uCjmih8e8liUxC6P3xy/s320/TRICover01.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7352376652415842" style="font-weight: normal;"></b><br />
<h2 dir="ltr">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7352376652415842" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 19px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Britney Pearce</span></b></h2>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7352376652415842" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Carol was already standing beside the door when I arrived. She had taken the time to restyle her hair into a neat ponytail and she’d smartly washed the small amount of makeup from her face. It was a perk allowed to students after their second year, but it was never really encouraged and under some circumstances, teachers would use it against you. I’d never really gone down that path, it cost money from our allowance to purchase makeup and I’d always found better uses for the funds, like trips into town.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7352376652415842" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“What,” asked Carol, “are you doing here?”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7352376652415842" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I stood against the wall beside her. “Mr. Boggs asked me here the same as you.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7352376652415842" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Oh,” she said.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7352376652415842" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It seemed the possibility that he might discipline us both had never crossed her thoughts before that moment. For me, it had plagued my mind the entire study period and throughout dinner. He obviously disapproved of my silence on Carol’s minor abuses of power. It was difficult to say which rule he thought I violated in that act though. In fact, lodging a complaint seemed more against the rules, in the form of resisting discipline, than keeping silent. If I’ve learned anything during my stay at Rosecliff, it’s that when someone on staff wants to discipline you, they’ll find a way.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7352376652415842" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Mr. Boggs arrived with keys in hand. He unlocked the door and motioned us inside. Behind us, he closed the door and relocked it. The lights flickered on, overhead fluorescents humming to life with dim light that gradually brightened. Carol and I stood in front of the desk, hands at our sides, backs straight.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7352376652415842" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He sat in the chair behind the desk, rustled a few papers as if the placement on the desktop was more important than the two of us standing before him. When the desk was neat and orderly, he finally looked up at us.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7352376652415842" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Carol,” he said, “why are you here?”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7352376652415842" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She blinked at him. “You asked me to come.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7352376652415842" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">His gaze narrowed on her. “And why would I do such a thing? You’re a monitor and I am head of this house, do we not have better things to be doing with our time?”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7352376652415842" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Carol’s shoulders slumped, not to the point of drooping, but enough that she looked shorter. “I was running.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7352376652415842" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He maintained his harsh stare into her face. “I think you continue to miss the point.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7352376652415842" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I don’t understand, Sir,” she said.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7352376652415842" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Of that I’m a certain,” he said. “however, by the time you go to sleep tonight, I’m quite certain you will understand.” He turned his gaze on me. “Why are you here Britney?”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7352376652415842" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I realized the question could have multiple answers, anything from the immediate circumstances to the events that led me to be incarcerated at Rosecliff. And that realization led to another. “Because I’ve made a habit of making poor choices, Sir.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7352376652415842" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He smiled and nodded. “Now, that’s precisely the mature sort of answer I’d expect from a pair of girls who have been here as long as you two. Between the two of you, I can safely say I know which I would choose to continue as a monitor for this house.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7352376652415842" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It occurred to me that he might be under the mistaken impression, as many of my peers with less time at Rosecliff often were, that I was a monitor. The post was not something I had ever desired and I had in fact turned down the offer from Ms. Chambers on two previous occasions. “I’m not a monitor, Sir.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7352376652415842" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I’m aware of that, Britney,” he said. “As of tonight, that is going to change.” His gaze turned on Carol. “We have here a student who has abused her authority and been caught running on campus.” His gaze turned back on me. “You’re going to discipline her for that and take over her responsibilities as monitor.”</span></b></div>
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7352376652415842" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">A single look into his dark eyes convinced me there was no arguing with his decision. As of that moment, I was a monitor.</span></b>Ashley Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14242036743645170042noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7518647266576010083.post-34176358322205177112012-11-13T07:00:00.000-08:002012-11-13T07:00:00.772-08:00Rosecliff, Episode 036<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYq78OaQNoet09e2uILe6YBVFYwsNYtIlqU31cxmEvqjvXiJXNGVQHTQilWAG0uoJXu1R3IK-xQeI-JkBJzn824D8P6P4TVh1F3x4vzHuyR_VUIiSTaF5RPuT-2uCjmih8e8liUxC6P3xy/s1600/TRICover01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYq78OaQNoet09e2uILe6YBVFYwsNYtIlqU31cxmEvqjvXiJXNGVQHTQilWAG0uoJXu1R3IK-xQeI-JkBJzn824D8P6P4TVh1F3x4vzHuyR_VUIiSTaF5RPuT-2uCjmih8e8liUxC6P3xy/s320/TRICover01.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9907848588190973" style="font-weight: normal;"></b><br />
<h2 dir="ltr">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9907848588190973" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 19px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Scarlet Watts</span></b></h2>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9907848588190973" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It was pleasurable to see Katherine Chambers. She stood at the table during dinner, leaning down every so often to take another bite. Her usual place at the head of the table was taken by Gary and Katherine in turn stood behind his customary chair just to the right. Having just been in the position myself, I understood the embarrassment factor quite well. Standing naked for meals in a dining hall filled with comfortably dressed coworkers and students makes a significant mental impact. Of course, there were others standing, mostly students, but against the masses, standing and eating naked is a lonely adventure.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9907848588190973" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I suspect my pleasure at the turn of events was shared by others at the table, but I rather think the intensity of mine was greater. There was the obvious factor that I had only days prior been in the precise same circumstances and that Katherine had seemed to revel in my embarrassing and painful condition. But it was deeper than that. At those times when my Uncle had disciplined me, there was never a time when I had walked into the room and found another girl standing bare bottomed in the corner. In a way, seeing Katherine, naked and red bottomed, made the world feel balanced.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9907848588190973" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">After dinner, I was walking back toward Tanzanite House, lost in my thoughts on the overall fairness of Rosecliff Institute, when Gary settled into pace beside me. His mere presence was distracting. A single glance in his direction revealed a certain deviousness at work behind his eyes. I suspect he is a master at chess, always planning out the future with dozens of favorable movement possibilities.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9907848588190973" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He asked, “Do you have plans for the evening?”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9907848588190973" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I was tempted to lie. The thought of spending an evening with him filled me with trepidation. But I was not foolish enough to believe that if he wanted something from me, I would be successful at keeping that something from him for more than a few hours, days at the most. “Nothing important,” I said.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9907848588190973" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">A small smile crept the corners of his lips upward. “Excellent. I’m in need of your assistance.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9907848588190973" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My imagination offered terrible images of what assistance he might think he required from me. I pushed the thoughts away, convincing myself that whatever I could think of would never approach the thoughts being plotted in his mind. A polite smile found its way to my lips. “What can I do?”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9907848588190973" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“You are familiar with Katherine and her current troubles?” he asked.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9907848588190973" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I knew the rumors. She had defied the Dean and was currently learning the cost of defiance. “I’ve heard it had something to do with a disagreement with Dean Rosecliff.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9907848588190973" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Gary nodded. “That is the short version. Katherine has decided to stick her neck out for a student. A poor decision, I assure you, and one you would be wise not to copy.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9907848588190973" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I see.” Curiosity demanded I ask the obvious and I could tell he was merely waiting for the question. I asked, “Which student?”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9907848588190973" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He smiled, “It matters not. They’re all bad apples and unworthy of such risk.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9907848588190973" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I suspected he was right. The students at Rosecliff were all guilty of acts which, without the charitable intervention of Rosecliff, would have landed them behind iron bars for years. These were not innocent souls in need of protection. “What would you have me do this evening?”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9907848588190973" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He nodded ahead toward Katherine. She was walking up the steps into Tanzanite House. Her red butt wagging slightly from side to side. Were it not for Gary’s presence I might have laughed.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9907848588190973" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Gary said, “I need you to watch over the common room tonight while I deal with a situation in the House office.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9907848588190973" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It sounded simple enough. “I can do that.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9907848588190973" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">His smiled widened. “See to it that Katherine remains busy and exposed to the students during the evening. I wouldn’t want her to find the night the slightest bit pleasant. She is, after all, being disciplined.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9907848588190973" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I smiled. An opportunity for revenge was not something I had expected so soon. “I think I can manage that.”</span></b></div>
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9907848588190973" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He nodded as we climbed the steps. “I thought you might.”</span></b>Ashley Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14242036743645170042noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7518647266576010083.post-65154426991431581212012-11-12T07:00:00.000-08:002012-11-12T07:00:02.946-08:00Rosecliff, Episode 035<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYq78OaQNoet09e2uILe6YBVFYwsNYtIlqU31cxmEvqjvXiJXNGVQHTQilWAG0uoJXu1R3IK-xQeI-JkBJzn824D8P6P4TVh1F3x4vzHuyR_VUIiSTaF5RPuT-2uCjmih8e8liUxC6P3xy/s1600/TRICover01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYq78OaQNoet09e2uILe6YBVFYwsNYtIlqU31cxmEvqjvXiJXNGVQHTQilWAG0uoJXu1R3IK-xQeI-JkBJzn824D8P6P4TVh1F3x4vzHuyR_VUIiSTaF5RPuT-2uCjmih8e8liUxC6P3xy/s320/TRICover01.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.8094222645740956" style="font-weight: normal;"></b><br />
<h2 dir="ltr">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.8094222645740956" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 19px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Abigail Hastings</span></b></h2>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.8094222645740956" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Being a monitor has ample benefits. Extra study time simply isn’t one of them. I hadn’t missed that part of my responsibilities while I was being punished. It’s a rare day when study period goes without having to address some issue or other with one of my fellow students. If the issue is minor enough and I’m busy enough, my typical manner is to issue a quick warning and get back to studying, but with the recent turn of events, Ms. Chambers standing up for me and Dean Rosecliff making himself clear on the lack of confidence he has in me, I felt I needed to be a little more in accordance with the expectations.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.8094222645740956" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Dana Baker and Gillian Shafer picked this unfortunate time to talk during study period. I forced myself to do the job at hand. The discipline program insisted on 18 swats with the leather paddle. It wasn’t severe, but I still felt like a bitch enforcing it over something so silly. Gillian was a new girl and Dana was her bunkmate, they were probably talking about how things work, or Dana might even have been helping with some of that early etiquette homework that most girls struggle with their first few months.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.8094222645740956" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I stood up, grabbed the paddle from beside my study desk and approached the two, looking as stern as I could muster. “Dana, Gillian, talking is not allowed during study time.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.8094222645740956" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Dana offered an apologetic smile. “Sorry Miss Abigail. Gillian needed help with her grammar exercises.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.8094222645740956" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I looked at Gillian. “In the future, you should direct such questions to Mrs. Rosecliff or ask them during free time. Study time is quiet time.” I looked at them both. “Stand up and bend over your desks.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.8094222645740956" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Miss Abigail,” objected Dana.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.8094222645740956" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I silenced her before she got us both in too deep. “Don’t make matters worse by fighting a mild spanking, Dana.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.8094222645740956" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She frowned at me. “Yes, Miss Abigail.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.8094222645740956" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">They both stood and bent over their desks. I flipped up their skirts onto their back, exposing the panties to the entire room. It seemed best to start with Gillian and get it over with so she didn’t have to wait there wondering how awful it was going to be when it was her turn. I delivered the swats sharply, alternating from cheek to cheek as she counted out each swat in a loud clear voice. At least it wasn’t so hard that she cried. I could see some redness shining through her panties after the eighteenth swat, but it wouldn’t last long. By bedtime, she’d be back to normal. Except of course, she was going to be hating me for making an issue out of something so petty. That was OK because I wasn’t liking myself too much for it either.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.8094222645740956" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I moved on to Dana. She yelped and even sniffled as I progressed the spanking at the same steady pace I’d delivered it to Gillian. I knew I wasn’t swatting any harder, but Dana was carrying on like I’d upgraded to Lexan. Her counts lacked the clear voice of Gillian’s and I knew I was in danger of losing my authority over everyone in the room if I allowed her to continue making such a ridiculous fuss. I stopped after delivering ten.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.8094222645740956" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Dana,” I said, “this overacting is absolutely ridiculous. I’m going to start this spanking over at one and if you don’t stop carrying on like a little baby, I’m going to further punish you for resisting a punishment. Is that understood?”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.8094222645740956" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Dana stopped sniffling. Apparently the thought of a long harsh punishment for resisting, was as unappealing to her as it was to me. “Fine,” she said, “but this is still ridiculous.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.8094222645740956" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I agree,” I said. I decided I needed to make a real point to the whole room. I slipped my finger into the waistband of her panties and yanked them down to her knees.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.8094222645740956" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Dana shivered, but wisely kept her mouth shut.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.8094222645740956" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I started the spanking over and turned her pink bottom to a glossy red after eighteen swats. She counted each one, loud and clear. There was no more stomping of feet or crocodile tears. It was done the way it was supposed to be done. I sent her to stand in the corner near the exit for the remainder of the study period with her skirt up and panties down. Gillian, I allowed to continue with her studies. It was clear to me, everyone in the room sensed the change. They got the message, follow the rules or I would follow the rules imposed on Monitors.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.8094222645740956" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It didn’t feel good, but I hoped in changing the tone, the girls would know it best not to test me in the coming days. Maybe we would all get more studying done. I turned to go back to my desk and that’s when I realized we were being watched. Dean Rosecliff, stood in the doorway. Our eyes met and I could still feel his disapproval of me personally, but there was a hint that my actions with Dana and Gillian actually did meet with his approval. Before I could say anything, he turned on heel and left.</span></b></div>
Ashley Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14242036743645170042noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7518647266576010083.post-3708316104022010202012-11-09T07:00:00.000-08:002012-11-09T07:00:09.410-08:00LOL 7 & A Glimpse at Conflict of Interest<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY25YsxOIMlTRBL8EqHZ4Y62liLlmeZ1wLkQ4PGYYKQj0yoixzV4_K36GSn2Nec25EY8WGFY-DGTJGhAY8uJm6LuA94Z29uf83S-302Sz3I3KZ7HdX3rTwqw_4p3wIS0qLpqzAcolmwxqu/s1600/LOL7a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY25YsxOIMlTRBL8EqHZ4Y62liLlmeZ1wLkQ4PGYYKQj0yoixzV4_K36GSn2Nec25EY8WGFY-DGTJGhAY8uJm6LuA94Z29uf83S-302Sz3I3KZ7HdX3rTwqw_4p3wIS0qLpqzAcolmwxqu/s1600/LOL7a.jpg" /></a></div>
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.31808562111109495" style="font-weight: normal;"></b><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.31808562111109495" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Year after year, Bonnie over on <a href="http://bottomsmarts.blogspot.com/">My Bottom Smarts</a>, brings us Love Our Lurkers Day. It’s a way of inviting the silent masses who read blogs to join the conversation and share their thoughts, however big or small. I think it’s a really great idea because I know there are a lot people out there who read these blogs on a regular basis, but still feel uncomfortable about leaving a comment. Sometimes all it takes is a little nudge. Of course some people have larger fears that just how their favorite blogger or other more established commenters might react. The web can be a scary place, not to mention sticky, creepy and crawly, at times and especially for those who have reason to fear they might be discovered in the real world for their predilections on the web. That’s why I’ve specifically allowed for people to comment anonymously on this blog. There is no need to enter your email address or share personal information about yourself, but you can still join in the conversation and share your likes and dislikes.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.31808562111109495" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">So, if you’re a lurker (reader) and would like to leave a comment, good, bad, heck this one special day a year we will even allow ugly comments, just so long as it’s not spam, I’m hoping you’ll take a moment and say something. Say anything. My blog has been specially trained not to bite, unless you’re a spammer. If you’re a spammer, blogger will gobble you up and I’ve got a dozen followers or so that will line up outside your house with paddles, straps and floggers. Oh, my! I am of course not serious, my name is actually Ashley, but I do wish we could track down those spammers. Really, I don’t want to buy fake American products made in China. I don’t care if they are 10% cheaper. I still don’t need them. Oh wait, this post was supposed to be about encouraging lurkers out of the shadows. The tie-in here is, wait I forgot, oh yeah, um, um, oh yeah. If I can’t figure out who the spammers are that constantly send me such </span><span style="font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">wonderful</span><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> offers for products I neither want or need, then lurkers can rest in safe anonymity leaving comments of substance that they can confidently believe will never, ever, ever, ever </span><span style="font-size: 16px; text-decoration: line-through; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">get back together</span><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> -oops- I mean, be traced back to them.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.31808562111109495" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Comment a little. Comment a lot. Say what you think. Say what believe. Just say something and join the conversation. Bloggers everywhere will thank you and appreciate you. Not that we don’t appreciate you in your silence as well. Whatever makes you comfortable, know that we know you are there and we’re glad you’re reading.</span></b><br />
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></b>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Hugs,</span></b><br />
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Ashley</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.31808562111109495" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.31808562111109495" style="font-weight: normal;"><b id="internal-source-marker_0.31808562111109495" style="font-weight: normal;"></b></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 0.0pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.31808562111109495" style="font-weight: normal;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBbzWP2-HZqsqdNbLk4NCTZDipetlnAfPw0BIYsdD6ZYbtM61U6DPlLvW2HUbePg-JGsP0gtDp-QKwlla45XHf5RKxpCHKAZYaU8Odwo-2fNpKY2Xa0uooqzMQwOVg91-c4goWTU9m0M93/s1600/Cover08.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBbzWP2-HZqsqdNbLk4NCTZDipetlnAfPw0BIYsdD6ZYbtM61U6DPlLvW2HUbePg-JGsP0gtDp-QKwlla45XHf5RKxpCHKAZYaU8Odwo-2fNpKY2Xa0uooqzMQwOVg91-c4goWTU9m0M93/s320/Cover08.jpg" width="198" /></a></b></div>
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.31808562111109495" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">In other news, since I’m not actually posting a </span><span style="font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Rosecliff Episode</span><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> today, I thought I’d mention a project that is nearing completion and will be available in the near future. It’s called </span><span style="font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Conflict of Interest</span><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> and with the exception of </span><span style="font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Quest Five</span><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> it is easily the longest spanking story I’ve written. The story is set in the future, the world is heavily controlled by corporations and those corporations have decided to make use of corporal punishment in the managing of their employees. I’d share a summary, but I’m still in the process of revision, the story is completely written, and a few things might be altered before it’s all said and done. Unfortunately, I’m not confident on a release date quite yet, my November is packed with work and I don’t expect to get truly into the revision process until early December. I’ll keep you informed on the progress though and I can promise it will be out either late this year or early next year.</span></b>Ashley Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14242036743645170042noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7518647266576010083.post-60960382212863007532012-11-08T07:00:00.000-08:002012-11-08T07:00:02.930-08:00Rosecliff, Episode 034<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYq78OaQNoet09e2uILe6YBVFYwsNYtIlqU31cxmEvqjvXiJXNGVQHTQilWAG0uoJXu1R3IK-xQeI-JkBJzn824D8P6P4TVh1F3x4vzHuyR_VUIiSTaF5RPuT-2uCjmih8e8liUxC6P3xy/s1600/TRICover01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYq78OaQNoet09e2uILe6YBVFYwsNYtIlqU31cxmEvqjvXiJXNGVQHTQilWAG0uoJXu1R3IK-xQeI-JkBJzn824D8P6P4TVh1F3x4vzHuyR_VUIiSTaF5RPuT-2uCjmih8e8liUxC6P3xy/s320/TRICover01.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9544494177680463" style="font-weight: normal;"></b><br />
<h2 dir="ltr">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9544494177680463" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 19px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Britney Pearce</span></b></h2>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9544494177680463" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I was walking toward Tanzanite House for afternoon study time. Ms. Rutherford had held me back a few minutes, discussing my degree qualifications and whether or not I intended to formalize things with an application for graduation. With less than a year of Rosecliff left ahead of me, it was among the top subjects in my thoughts most days, but decisions on the future have a scary element to them after spending so long living day by day. Ms. Rutherford was right though, it was time to start planning for a future beyond the gates of Rosecliff. Such were my thoughts as I walked along the open air path.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9544494177680463" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Miss Carol approached from behind. She was slightly winded as if she had been running. The thin sheen of sweat on her forehead just beneath her black hair only reinforced my conclusion as it was one of those days when the air carried a chill and only the hot sun in the cloudless sky kept the day from being a cold one. She slowed her pace, grasped my arm and pulled us both to a stop.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9544494177680463" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She said, “You’ve been running.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9544494177680463" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I raised an eyebrow. “I have not, Miss Carol.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9544494177680463" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Why else would I have had to run to catch up with you?” she asked.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9544494177680463" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It seemed a ridiculous question. If we walked at the same pace and I left before her, she would certainly have to increase her pace, say by running, to catch up with me. And I had left the main building before her, apparently. I possessed a written excuse from Ms. Rutherford for my late exit and it occurred to me that Miss Carol’s even later exit might not have such a valid reason. If so, she was likely looking to use me as an excuse. Wrong place, wrong time, was still seeming to be the story of my life.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9544494177680463" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I left before you,” I said.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9544494177680463" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She stared into my eyes, confident in her superiority. “Don’t get smart.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9544494177680463" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I felt like laughing. It would of course be the wrong thing to do. Running on campus came with stiff penalties and I still preferred to avoid them. It was to my benefit to cooperate with Miss Carol and offer her an opportunity that was less burdensome to me and yet still met her needs.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9544494177680463" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“We both know I wasn’t running.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9544494177680463" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Miss Carol raised up on her toes, giving herself a downward vantage into my eyes. “Are you calling me a liar?”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9544494177680463" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I shook my head, not trusting myself to find the appropriate tone to cool her blood. But we weren’t quite alone. Mr. Boggs had approached us quietly without either of us noticing. When he spoke, I nearly jumped out of my own skin and I think Miss Carol might have, if only for a second.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9544494177680463" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Mr. Boggs said, “I’m quite certain Britney would avoid saying something so inflammatory. I, however, see no reason to be so diplomatic. You, Carol, were running, not Britney.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9544494177680463" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Carol stammered. “I-I-I was only trying to catch up.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9544494177680463" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He nodded. “We’ll discuss this more fully after dinner in my office.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9544494177680463" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She lowered her gaze, though her eyes were wide open. Her fingers twitched at her sides. “Yes, Sir.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9544494177680463" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He pointed ahead toward Tanzanite House. “Move along. If I’m not mistaken you’re late for study time.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9544494177680463" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Yes, Sir,” she said and pivoted toward the house. Her quick pace away was almost a run, but I imagine she just wanted to get away from Mr. Boggs before he changed his mind and disciplined her on the spot. Personally, I was slightly disappointed he didn’t. It did seem I deserved the opportunity to watch her squirm considering she was perfectly willing to do the same to me without any proper reason.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9544494177680463" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Mr. Boggs turned his attention on me. “Why haven’t you reported Carol for bullying?”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9544494177680463" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Sir?” Did he really expect me to explain the way things worked at Rosecliff and why it was never in a girl’s best interest to tattle?</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9544494177680463" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I’ve been reviewing your record,” he said. “This is clearly not the first time Carol Sato has called you out on failings you did not commit. Why haven’t you reported this to Ms. Chambers?”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9544494177680463" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I’ve seen a lot of monitors come and go in my time here,” I said. It was easier to stare at the ground than meet his gaze. “Miss Carol is new to the post and flexing her muscle.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9544494177680463" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“That doesn’t answer my question.” He lifted my chin with a finger.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9544494177680463" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I hesitated a moment. The look in his eyes told me he wanted honesty. I gave it to him. “Discipline is part of life at Rosecliff. Sometimes it is fair, sometimes it is not. I can take it either way and complaining about it is pretty lame. We’re all here for good reason and it’s not because we’re innocent. Sir.”</span></b></div>
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9544494177680463" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He nodded, apparently pleased with my response. “I want to see you in my office after dinner as well.”</span></b>Ashley Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14242036743645170042noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7518647266576010083.post-68296655558047302222012-11-07T07:00:00.000-08:002012-11-07T07:00:11.899-08:00Rosecliff, Episode 033<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYq78OaQNoet09e2uILe6YBVFYwsNYtIlqU31cxmEvqjvXiJXNGVQHTQilWAG0uoJXu1R3IK-xQeI-JkBJzn824D8P6P4TVh1F3x4vzHuyR_VUIiSTaF5RPuT-2uCjmih8e8liUxC6P3xy/s1600/TRICover01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYq78OaQNoet09e2uILe6YBVFYwsNYtIlqU31cxmEvqjvXiJXNGVQHTQilWAG0uoJXu1R3IK-xQeI-JkBJzn824D8P6P4TVh1F3x4vzHuyR_VUIiSTaF5RPuT-2uCjmih8e8liUxC6P3xy/s320/TRICover01.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.08504152507521212" style="font-weight: normal;"></b><br />
<h2 dir="ltr">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.08504152507521212" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 19px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Scarlet Watts</span></b></h2>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.08504152507521212" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Gary- Mr. Boggs, having taken over Ms. Chambers’ leadership role for the week, seemed quite at ease standing against the wall surveying my classes. Unlike Ms. Chambers, he spent more of his time watching my students rather than me. That might have been a result of my fully clothed state or it might just be that Mr. Boggs understood the most likely problems in a classroom were going to come from the students, not the teacher.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.08504152507521212" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I gave my first quiz. It seemed appropriate. The students had spent time learning the positions of the keys on keyboards and how best to position their hands on the keyboard to take advantage of that knowledge. Of course it takes time to connect the movement of fingers with the knowledge in the brain. Some would pick it up faster than others, but my quiz wasn’t about speed. Accuracy through the slow deliberate movement of fingers over the keyboard was my goal. All I asked of my students was to type a simple sentence while wearing a blindfold. It was the same method by which I was taught.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.08504152507521212" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Most succeeded with few or no errors. And then there was Lindsay Owens. She typed not a single correct letter for the entire sentence. The pooling tears in her sad green eyes only furthered my opinion the girl did it purposefully. Undoubtedly, she looked forward to the lunch meal where she would mock me as a teacher. The red headed drama queen was testing me and she must have thought I would fail.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.08504152507521212" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I looked to Mr. Boggs beside the door, shaking my head. His approval was a necessary step in moving forward with discipline during my probationary period. Ms. Chambers would likely have turned me down, but I felt Mr. Boggs was more open-minded. I said, “She failed to type even a single letter correctly.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.08504152507521212" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Mr. Boggs pushed on the bridge of his glasses with his index finger though they were already solidly in place. “That does sound unacceptable.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.08504152507521212" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I stepped toward him. “Unacceptable? It’s either intentional or a clear sign of a learning disability. Is Lindsay Owens learning disabled?”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.08504152507521212" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Mr. Boggs lips formed a thin smile. “Not that I am aware of.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.08504152507521212" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“That leaves intentional,” I said, planting my hands firmly on my hips. “Certainly you would agree that discipline is called for?”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.08504152507521212" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Lindsay twisted around in her seat. Her milky pale complexion turning a sort of strawberry in her obvious anger at having been caught in her ploy. “It was a mistake, Miss. Honest. My fingers were in the wrong place.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.08504152507521212" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I twisted and snapped my fingers at her. “Quiet girl. I wasn’t talking to you and I didn’t ask for your explanation.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.08504152507521212" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She wisely lowered her eyes. “Sorry, Miss.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.08504152507521212" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Mr. Boggs said, “I’ll approve a disciplinary action if that is your choice, Miss Watts.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.08504152507521212" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I looked back at him and nodded in respect. “Thank you, Mr. Boggs. I do indeed choose.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.08504152507521212" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He lifted up his datapad and tapped on the screen. After my probationary period, I would get one of my own. They communicated wirelessly with the Institute’s internal network and the disciplinary program in particular. Rosecliff left nothing to chance in deciding punishments. Everything was regimented with weight being given to a student’s disciplinary history. The only problem I saw with the program was that it often erred on the side of leniency.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.08504152507521212" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Mr. Boggs said, “Her punishment will be for the remainder of the day only. She will be stripped down to bra, socks and shoes for attire. You may give her 24 spanks with either the tawse or the small Lexan paddle. Afterward, she will spend the remainder of the class period in corner time and this evening, instead of enjoying free time after dinner she will retake the exam under your supervision. Do you have any questions, Ms. Watts?”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.08504152507521212" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I shook my head. It was simple enough. I turned my attention on Lindsay. “Stand up and remove your uniform down to your bra, socks and shoes.”</span></b></div>
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.08504152507521212" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The strawberry blush on her cheeks darkened as she complied and the eyes of her classmates focused on her undressing. In a positive note, I am pleased she followed instructions without complaint or argument. I opted for the small Lexan, the feel of a solid implement in my hand is infinitely more satisfying than the wishy-washiness of most leather. Lindsay bent down, touching her toes with her legs split sufficiently to give Mr. Boggs an excellent view of her sex. I imagine he enjoyed it, though he gave no outward signs of such. The twenty-four swats I delivered to her pale buttocks, colored her a nice soft red, but they felt far too few. She was hardly colored at all when I met again in the evening for her repeat quiz. My only real satisfaction comes in knowing that the girls in my classes would spread that word; </span><span style="font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Miss Watts is not to be fooled with</span><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">.</span></b>Ashley Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14242036743645170042noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7518647266576010083.post-7605288965224773402012-11-06T07:00:00.000-08:002012-11-06T07:00:02.905-08:00Rosecliff, Episode 032<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYq78OaQNoet09e2uILe6YBVFYwsNYtIlqU31cxmEvqjvXiJXNGVQHTQilWAG0uoJXu1R3IK-xQeI-JkBJzn824D8P6P4TVh1F3x4vzHuyR_VUIiSTaF5RPuT-2uCjmih8e8liUxC6P3xy/s1600/TRICover01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYq78OaQNoet09e2uILe6YBVFYwsNYtIlqU31cxmEvqjvXiJXNGVQHTQilWAG0uoJXu1R3IK-xQeI-JkBJzn824D8P6P4TVh1F3x4vzHuyR_VUIiSTaF5RPuT-2uCjmih8e8liUxC6P3xy/s320/TRICover01.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.19555649627000093" style="font-weight: normal;"></b><br />
<h2 dir="ltr">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.19555649627000093" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 19px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Margaret Lange</span></b></h2>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.19555649627000093" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Things were going pretty smooth. I had managed to avoid getting spanked since my initiation into Rosecliff and that initial spanking seemed quite unavoidable. It crossed my thoughts to suggest I hadn’t done anything to deserve it even, but of course the people running Rosecliff would not agree. In their eyes every girl who walks through their front door has done plenty to deserve a solid spanking. I bet they even consider making it a daily ritual for some of the more hardcore girls. Then again, they consider me hardcore though prior to the supposed incident that landed me here, I’d never been in any sort of legal trouble. Sometimes I think the system is designed to punish those who spend their lives living within the rules and make a single mistake more than it punishes those who break the rules every day.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.19555649627000093" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">So anyway, I was showered, dressed and had just finished making my bed when Miss Abigail entered. She smiled at me like we were old friends which was nice. I still felt bad about the trouble she had with the shopkeeper, Mr. Mason. She joined me beside the bed and looked at it. I shrugged. She hid her laughter behind a fake fit of coughing. I blushed.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.19555649627000093" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Miss Abigail said, “That’s got to be the worst made bed I’ve ever seen. I mean I’ve seen unmade beds with less wrinkles.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.19555649627000093" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I nodded, looking at it. “My mom gave up on trying to teach me years ago.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.19555649627000093" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Miss Abigail shook her head. “That won’t do here.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.19555649627000093" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I offered her a weak smile. It wasn’t like I hadn’t known the day was coming. Everyone else made the kind of beds you could bounce quarters off of and if you threw one at mine, you’d probably lose it inside a wrinkle. And of course, life at Rosecliff was meant to include regular doses of corporal punishment. That I’d gone nearly a week without any was certainly a miracle. Unfortunately, it was a miracle soon to be corrected.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.19555649627000093" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">That was when Jocelyn returned from the showers, dripping wet and wearing nothing more than her towel and a pair of flip flops. “Don’t be mean, Ms. Abi. She’s still new and has lots to learn. Ain’t that right, Mags? I’ve been teaching her stuff all week, but haven’t quite made it to the bed thing yet. Pathetic I know.” She took a breath, shaking her head at the sight of my bed. Then, she whistled. “That’s the worst it has looked all week. I swear. Just don’t be mean, Ms. Abi. We’ll get her all straightened around. Promise.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.19555649627000093" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Miss Abigail rolled her eyes while her back was still turned on Jocelyn. She pivoted and sighed, planting her hands on her hips. “It’s Miss Abigail, not Abi and I don’t think I’m ever mean.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.19555649627000093" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Jocelyn smiled. She dropped her towel on the floor and started dressing. “Sorry, Miss Abigail. I like you and so I use a nickname cause I always use nicknames for folks I like. And I know you ain’t mean. If you were mean, I’d probably get spanked for just talking to you cause we all know I talk too much and say stuff I should probably never say. But anyway, like I was saying, Mags there just needs to be taught, I ain’t had the opportunity to teach her quite yet. If you gonna spank anybody over it, it should probably be me. But you ain’t mean. So you’ll let me teach her, right? Nobody got touch their toes today, right?”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.19555649627000093" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Miss Abigail shook her laughing, this time without bothering to disguise it. “Alright, alright. You can teach her and I won’t punish anyone, this time.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.19555649627000093" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Jocelyn pulled her socks into place and stepped into shoes, finishing getting dressed. “You’re the best, Miss Abi.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.19555649627000093" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Miss Abigail said, “It is Miss Abigail.” She wagged a finger at the two of us. “If it looks like this tomorrow, I’ll spank you both and you know what that means for the rest of day if I do.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.19555649627000093" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Jocelyn nodded. “Yes, Miss Abigail.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.19555649627000093" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The next fifteen minutes consisted of a rapidfire instruction on how to make my bed from Jocelyn. It would have never sunk in, but she helped me do it step by step while she explained and the really amazing part was it looked good when we were done. Of course the real test will be tomorrow morning when I try to do it myself all over again. Time will tell, but I doubt my luck against spankings will hold out much longer. It just goes against the grain of a place like Rosecliff.</span></b></div>
Ashley Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14242036743645170042noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7518647266576010083.post-80061362966551663932012-11-05T07:00:00.000-08:002012-11-05T07:00:12.354-08:00Rosecliff, Episode 031<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYq78OaQNoet09e2uILe6YBVFYwsNYtIlqU31cxmEvqjvXiJXNGVQHTQilWAG0uoJXu1R3IK-xQeI-JkBJzn824D8P6P4TVh1F3x4vzHuyR_VUIiSTaF5RPuT-2uCjmih8e8liUxC6P3xy/s1600/TRICover01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYq78OaQNoet09e2uILe6YBVFYwsNYtIlqU31cxmEvqjvXiJXNGVQHTQilWAG0uoJXu1R3IK-xQeI-JkBJzn824D8P6P4TVh1F3x4vzHuyR_VUIiSTaF5RPuT-2uCjmih8e8liUxC6P3xy/s320/TRICover01.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.03282478777691722" style="font-weight: normal;"></b><br />
<h2 dir="ltr">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.03282478777691722" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 19px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Abigail Hastings</span></b></h2>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.03282478777691722" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Mrs. Chambers disrobed with efficiency. Her pace lacked unnecessary pauses, her hands remained steady and certain as she folded, more neatly and quickly than I was capable, and she made no attempt to shield her privates from view. She stood next to me, hands on her head, same as me, and it seemed as if we were no different. Equals.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.03282478777691722" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Dean Rosecliff pretended to remain busy with his datapad, but I caught his glances in our direction. He hummed to himself, holding device up in the viewspace between us as if it were some sort of shield. The clock ticked off seconds and the minute hand moved forward with a thunk. He liked the waiting. I could see it in his eyes, in the dispassionate passion that held sharpened his cheeks and chin into the appearance of the stern, disapproving master he wanted us to see.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.03282478777691722" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The datapad slipped from his hand and clattered on the desktop. His dark eyes drank in Ms. Chambers’ nudity, unabashedly staring at her legs, vagina, and breasts. “Katherine,” he said, “for the next five days you will be disciplined. You will at no time during these five days wear any clothing, makeup or jewelry, beyond your House ring and each morning during the normal breakfast meal, you will receive a spanking with my heaviest Lexan paddle consisting of 28 swats. After the morning spanking you will remain on the stage for the entirety of the breakfast period with your spanked bottom on display to all faculty, staff and students. Further, your position as the head of Tanzanite House is suspended until the Monday following the end of this disciplinary period. Mr. Boggs will assume the responsibilities of leading Tanzanite House in the meantime and he will assign you alternate duties during the periods of your schedule typically reserved for House matters.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.03282478777691722" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I detected a sharp breath from Ms. Chambers at the mention of Mr. Boggs, but she gaze no other outward signs of her thoughts. She said, “Yes, Dean Rosecliff.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.03282478777691722" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He stood and moved to the implement cabinet. The doors squeaked open and he removed the large Lexan paddle by the handle. He closed the cabinet. His body pivoted back toward us and his gaze fixed on me. “Abigail,” he said and pointed toward the corner next to the office door, “stand over there, facing the desk. I want you to see this and know it is happening in part due to your poor behavior.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.03282478777691722" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Yes, Sir,” I replied and walked into the corner.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.03282478777691722" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Katherine,” he said, “step forward and bend over the desk.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.03282478777691722" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She took two steps forward. Her thighs pressed against the front edge of desk. She lowered her hands from head and leaned forward at the same time, stretching her upper body over the desk. Her hands went past the far edge and gripped it fully, easily. She was tall enough that her entire upper half hung in the air above the desktop rather than resting on it.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.03282478777691722" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Dean Rosecliff stepped up behind her and laid the clear paddle across her pale buttocks. The wide blade covered the majority of her butt from just above the center all the way down to the tops of her thighs. It extended past the right edge of her butt as well. He adjusted his grip and stance for comfort. His arm drew the paddle away from her butt, hovered it for two ticks of the clock and brought it crashing down on her fleshy cheeks.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.03282478777691722" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“One, Sir,” said Ms. Chambers.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.03282478777691722" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I watched as Dean Rosecliff pulled the paddle back and a warm pink rectangle rose to the surface of her butt, marking the impact zone. He swung again, almost casual, lazy in tempo, but the contact rattled my bones like a hammer striking concrete. Ms. Chambers winced. Her butt bounced in and out, coloring a shade darker. He hovered the paddle in the open space behind her, impatiently waiting for her count.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.03282478777691722" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Two, Sir,” she said. Her voice quivered. She was on the verge of tears and crying.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.03282478777691722" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He whisked the paddle forward. I blinked at the boom. The pink grew brighter. She counted. He swung. And so it continued for 28 swats. Her butt was a trembling bright red, so hot I swear I could feel the warmth from across the room. She stood, hands back on her head, at his command. A steady stream of tears ran down her cheeks.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.03282478777691722" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Dean Rosecliff turned his gaze on me. “Abigail, your discipline is concluded as of morning bell tomorrow. You will resume your duties as Monitor, but make no mistake, any more incidents of this nature and you will no longer be a Monitor. Understood?”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.03282478777691722" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I nodded. “Yes, Sir.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.03282478777691722" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Dismissed,” he said.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.03282478777691722" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I turned toward the door and opened it.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.03282478777691722" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He said, “Katherine, you can spend the next hour facing the wall outside my office.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.03282478777691722" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I left feeling sorry for Ms. Chambers, not to mention feeling guilty. Of course, she was probably going to use her knowledge of Sean and I against me and that didn’t seem very pleasant. I figured I had better warn him though, cause Ms. Chambers was not likely to be in a very good mood for a while and that could definitely be bad news for us.</span></b></div>
Ashley Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14242036743645170042noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7518647266576010083.post-36642489973435994322012-11-02T07:00:00.000-07:002012-11-02T07:00:10.808-07:00Rosecliff, Episode 030<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYq78OaQNoet09e2uILe6YBVFYwsNYtIlqU31cxmEvqjvXiJXNGVQHTQilWAG0uoJXu1R3IK-xQeI-JkBJzn824D8P6P4TVh1F3x4vzHuyR_VUIiSTaF5RPuT-2uCjmih8e8liUxC6P3xy/s1600/TRICover01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYq78OaQNoet09e2uILe6YBVFYwsNYtIlqU31cxmEvqjvXiJXNGVQHTQilWAG0uoJXu1R3IK-xQeI-JkBJzn824D8P6P4TVh1F3x4vzHuyR_VUIiSTaF5RPuT-2uCjmih8e8liUxC6P3xy/s320/TRICover01.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.24305835226550698" style="font-weight: normal;"></b><br />
<h2 dir="ltr">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.24305835226550698" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 19px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Scarlet Watts</span></b></h2>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.24305835226550698" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Scarlet Watts, I presume,” the man said as he entered my classroom.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.24305835226550698" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My back was initially toward him, but I quickly turned. The fact that I remained completely without clothing was not entirely lost on me, but as the days have past I have become more tolerant of the situation. Attempting to hide my charms from anyone was a fruitless gesture and it would be rude not to face a person in conversation.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.24305835226550698" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The man was bald and wore gold-rimmed spectacles that gave him the appearance of a numbers man. I was instantly reminded of an IRS accountant, the sort who reveled in his puny role of authority, stretching it beyond all bounds, in an effort to make those he considered more fortunate than himself squirm and sweat. The mustache hanging over his lip suggested he was a Southern man. His eyes looked me over quickly, though his gaze lingered around my pelvis before fixating on my breasts.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.24305835226550698" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I walked toward him. “I am, and you are?”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.24305835226550698" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">His head dipped a moment and finally his eyes discovered my neck and face. “Gary Boggs, House Counsellor.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.24305835226550698" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I stopped at arms distance, mindful to keep my arms at my sides. “Are you here to discuss my feelings about being disciplined?”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.24305835226550698" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He chuckled. “Actually,” he said and raised the laptop held under his left arm, “I was hoping you might be able to restore some lost files for me, but if you’d like to talk about your feelings, I’m told I’m a pretty good listener.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.24305835226550698" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I blushed, making assumptions has long been a flaw of mine. Someday I’ll learn to patiently hold my tongue and wait for people to reveal their intentions on their own. “What sort of files did you lose and how did you lose them?”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.24305835226550698" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He walked to the nearest student desk and sat the computer on top. “Session notes from last month’s Sunday sessions. I’m not really sure how they got lost, they were in the proper folder yesterday, but today they are gone.” He opened the computer and turned it on.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.24305835226550698" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Did you try searching for them?” I asked.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.24305835226550698" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He chuckled harder. “If I hadn’t searched for them, how would I know they’re missing?”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.24305835226550698" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I rolled my eyes. “Not the kind of searching I meant, but never mind.” I sat in student chair and began examining his directory structure and file naming habits.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.24305835226550698" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He said, “I’m guessing by the way you take those spankings at dinner, you grew up getting paddled from time to time.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.24305835226550698" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I brought up the directory search and started the computer looking for his lost files. “Not so much. My Uncle was quite fond of the paddle though.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.24305835226550698" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He nodded. “And what about you? Was he fond of you?”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.24305835226550698" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Only when I did as I was told, otherwise he was just fond of that paddle,” I said.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.24305835226550698" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Gary laughed. “How many times would say your Uncle spanked you?”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.24305835226550698" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Enough,” I said. His files were found, residing in a folder titled, </span><span style="font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Tanzanite House</span><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. “I found your lost files. Shall I put them in the appropriate folder for you or would you like me to show you how to do it yourself?”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.24305835226550698" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He waved a dismissive hand in the air. “Go ahead and move them please. I’m sure if I have additional troubles you’ll be able to help me again.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.24305835226550698" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I dragged the files to their proper home and closed the computer. “Was there anything else?”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.24305835226550698" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He shook his head and picked up his laptop. “I’m all good, thank you. However, if you’d like to talk about things, your punishments here or in the past from your Uncle, my door is always open to you.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.24305835226550698" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I watched him walk out the door. He was definitely a strange man and I seriously doubted his files had ever been lost. Like many things at Rosecliff, our encounter was likely a test. The question to which I had no definitive answer was whether or not I was passing. </span></b></div>
<div>
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.24305835226550698" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></b></div>
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.24305835226550698" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>Ashley Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14242036743645170042noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7518647266576010083.post-14449273963183963782012-11-01T07:00:00.000-07:002012-11-01T07:00:11.500-07:00Rosecliff, Episode 029<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYq78OaQNoet09e2uILe6YBVFYwsNYtIlqU31cxmEvqjvXiJXNGVQHTQilWAG0uoJXu1R3IK-xQeI-JkBJzn824D8P6P4TVh1F3x4vzHuyR_VUIiSTaF5RPuT-2uCjmih8e8liUxC6P3xy/s1600/TRICover01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYq78OaQNoet09e2uILe6YBVFYwsNYtIlqU31cxmEvqjvXiJXNGVQHTQilWAG0uoJXu1R3IK-xQeI-JkBJzn824D8P6P4TVh1F3x4vzHuyR_VUIiSTaF5RPuT-2uCjmih8e8liUxC6P3xy/s320/TRICover01.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.02496337774209678" style="font-weight: normal;"></b><br />
<h2 dir="ltr">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.02496337774209678" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 19px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Abigail Hastings</span></b></h2>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.02496337774209678" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I had known the moment was coming from the instant Sean had declared his intention to discipline me. Fore knowledge did nothing to dissuade the butterflies swarming in my midsection, nor did it ease the sweatiness of my palms while I stood outside Dean Rosecliff’s office. His secretary- ah- assistant, mostly ignored me. I’d like to think I was an unusual sight, wearing only socks and shoes, but I guess naked and mostly naked girls are a common occurrence around the Dean’s office. Fortunately, the Dean was having a busy day. Meaning he only left me waiting as long as it took for him to clear his desk of whatever issue he was dealing with prior to our scheduled appointment. Ms. Chambers escorted me inside, where I stood hands on head in front of the desk.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.02496337774209678" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Dean Rosecliff remained comfortably seated behind his desk. He gestured toward an open chair to the side of his desk while looking at Ms. Chambers. “Please, make yourself comfortable.” His gaze turned toward me while Ms. Chambers settled into the chair. “I can’t say I’m surprised we’re having this conversation, but I am disappointed, Abigail.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.02496337774209678" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I looked him in the eye for sincerity’s sake and hoped he didn’t read it as defiance. “I am sorry, Sir. I could have handled the situation much better.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.02496337774209678" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He raised a furry eyebrow. “The situation? How is disrespecting a member of this institute’s staff a ‘situation’?”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.02496337774209678" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The question required a delicate answer. If I said too much, Sean would face repercussions, possibly even lose his job. On the other hand, if I failed to communicate a reasonable reason for my actions, and my actions were reasonable, I would lose my position as a Monitor. Neither of those outcomes appealed to me. I said, “I only intended to assist the new girl, Margaret.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.02496337774209678" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Ms. Chambers asked, “How exactly did disrespecting Mr. Mason assist Margaret?”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.02496337774209678" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I couldn’t very well tell them he was leering. The facts needed finessing if I was going to successfully minimize the repercussions. I took a deep breath. “I felt Mr. Mason was teasing Margaret. She was having difficulty getting her jumper on correctly and he was doing nothing to help. I interceded with the intention of helping her, but my words to Mr. Mason were poorly chosen and gave the false impression I was accusing him of something inappropriate.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.02496337774209678" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Dean Rosecliff said, “Mr. Mason’s job is to operate the Tanzanite House Store, not to teach young ladies how to dress.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.02496337774209678" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I nodded. “I understand that, Sir. He was in the vicinity of Margaret and watching her. I realize he had no obligation to interfere or offer assistance and it was quite unreasonable of me to criticize him.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.02496337774209678" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Ms. Chambers looked at Dean Rosecliff. “I think she has learned her lesson.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.02496337774209678" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He pursed his lips. “Abigail has a long history of disrespecting authority. I told you initially I felt she was a poor choice for Monitor and this incident has only strengthened my conviction. I believe it would be best if you replaced her with a more suitable candidate such as Britney Pearce or Amy Graham.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.02496337774209678" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Ms. Chambers shook her head. “I don’t trust Amy and Britney has refused the Monitor position on two different occasions. Whatever Abigail’s issues with authority, she has repeatedly demonstrated an interest in the well-being of the other girls. In my opinion that makes her the ideal choice for a Monitor.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.02496337774209678" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Dean Rosecliff clicked his tongue in that annoying, disapproving manner that demonstrated his own lack of respect for opinions which deviated from his own. “Have you ever considered that her concern for the other girls combined with her disrespect for authority might lead to situations where she successfully hides serious behavior issues from proper handling?”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.02496337774209678" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Ms. Chambers smiled. It wasn’t the happiness sort of smile, but rather the ‘I feel sorry for you and your ignorance’ smile. “I am confident Abigail understands that avoiding responsibility for one’s actions is not in the best interests of anyone. If not, I’m quite certain she would be leveling accusations against Mr. Mason rather than apologizing for her mistake.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.02496337774209678" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The glance she sent my way as she finished her statement sent a shudder down my spine. Sean and I had always been so careful to avoid anyone suspecting our relationship. The latest discipline coming directly from him, should have dissuaded even the faintest hints of suspicion. And yet there it was, clear as daylight in her eyes. She knew and rather more astounding, she didn’t seem to care.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.02496337774209678" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Dean Rosecliff leaned back in his squeaky chair. “It seems you are determined to ignore my advice on this matter.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.02496337774209678" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Ms. Chambers shook her head. “I understand your concerns. It is just my belief that both Tanzanite House and Abigail will benefit from her continued participation as a Monitor. In wielding authority responsibly, she might just learn the respect for authority you’re so concerned about.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.02496337774209678" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Dean Rosecliff inhaled deeply and leaned forward on the edge of his desk. “The decision is of course yours. However, you’ve gone against my advice twice now in regards to Abigail and as a result she has disrespected a member of the staff. Abigail has been disciplined for this, the disciplinary action ends this evening, but you, Ms. Chambers are ultimately responsible for the Monitors in your house. If you think it’s fair for her to continue as a Monitor, I think it’s only fair that you have a share in the consequences.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.02496337774209678" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Ms. Chambers jaw set and she leaned forward in her seat. “What are you suggesting?”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.02496337774209678" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He smiled. “If Abigail is to continue as a Monitor, you will receive a five day discipline for disrespecting authority.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.02496337774209678" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Disagreeing,” Ms. Chambers said, “is not disrespecting.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.02496337774209678" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He chuckled. “I never suggested it was. Reinstating Abigail as a monitor does however suggest that you think her disrespect toward Mr. Mason was either insignificant or somehow deserved.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.02496337774209678" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“That’s not how I feel,” she said. “I merely believe Abigail is worth a second chance as Monitor.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.02496337774209678" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Dean Rosecliff nodded. “As part of your punishment, you will write a letter to Mr. Mason explaining as much. You can go ahead and stand up and get undressed.” He picked up his datapad and began tapping on it.</span></b></div>
Ashley Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14242036743645170042noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7518647266576010083.post-42730880942882272142012-10-31T07:00:00.000-07:002012-10-31T07:00:04.959-07:00Troubled Night<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"></b><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The house had been deserted for years. It was painted a bluish gray with white trim, but it was old, faded and peeling. Whatever beauty the structure once held was hidden beneath years of neglect. The grounds, an isolate bluff overlooking the ocean, had fared no better than the house. Yellow patches of grass, grayish brown dirt, leafless brittle trees were all that remained of the formerly lush surroundings. Still, there was a sense of tranquility within the old rusted gates.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Charlotte Thomson walked along the gravel drive, having left her car parked outside the gates. She pulled her sweater tight, insulating herself against the cold ocean wind. Her autumn leaf skirt whipped against her nylon clad legs. The day had begun much warmer, but with the sun dipping below the horizon, a winter chill was rising. She walked carefully up the rotted, creaking steps to the front porch of the house and knocked on the door.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The door creaked open and slammed against its stop. She stood outside the threshold and leaned her head inside. It was dark. The musty odor of dirt, dust and old mold tickled at her nose. The diminishing sunlight, shining through unshaded windows revealed hints of cobwebs covering everything from the floor to the ceiling. A sitting room off to her left sported sheet covered furnitured. The sheets were yellowed with age and covered in dust and cobwebs.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Hello,” she said. Her voice echoed throughout the house.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She turned her back on the house and leaned against the rotting railing lining the porch. Her eyes scanned the grounds. Nothing. No one. She turned back to the open door and walked inside, escaping the cold wind. At the foot of the stairs, she stopped, looked toward the top and said, “Hello.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">A gust of wind rattled the windows. The front door slammed shut. Charlotte jumped, spun toward the door. There was nothing, no one. She took a deep, calming breath. The house creaked and rattled under another gust of wind. She giggled, happy there was no one to see her fright. It was a big house, vacant, isolated, and there were dark clouds moving in from the ocean. A stormy night all alone in an old house was just the sort of thing ghost stories were made of, but ghosts were not real.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Charlotte pulled her phone out of her purse. There hadn’t been a signal at the gates, but without a landline in the house she decided to check again, not that she expected better results. The phone’s display lit. It beeped once, twice, three time. She blinked at it. Signal strength showed a full two bars. She pressed her number one speed dial and put the phone to her ear while it rang.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Hey Babe. Don’t worry, I got your costume and I’ll be home in less than ten,” said her boyfriend, Billy.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“That’s great,” she said. “Unfortunately I won’t be.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">His tone changed from cheerful to serious. “What’s wrong?”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I got a flat.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He chuckled. Disasters were always somehow funny to him. “You want me to come fix it?”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Absolutely,” she said. “How fast can you get here?”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Depends on where ‘here’ is?”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She cleared her throat. “Well yeah, that’s sort of the problem.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He sighed into the phone. “Don’t tell me you got lost again.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“OK,” she said, “but I still don’t know where I am.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Billy said, “Do you know what road you were on before you got lost?”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I think so,” she said.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Don’t keep me in suspense. Which one?”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Well it was paved and close to the ocean, kind of winding,” she said.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He chuckled again. “Should I ask which ocean?”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Charlotte shook her head at the ceiling. He wasn’t going to let her live this one down for ages. “Not unless I’ve been missing a lot longer than the couple hours it feels like.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Well that’s good news. So, you were driving along by the ocean for two hours and got a flat tire. I should be able to find you by morning or at least tomorrow night.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I’m in a big deserted house that’s sort of on a bluff overlooking the ocean,” she said.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He asked, “Does it have an address?”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Probably,” she said.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He chuckled some more. “Do you want me to guess at the numbers?”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Do you want to sleep on the couch?” she asked.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Are you going to keep me company?” he asked.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Not in your dreams,” she said.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“So you’re in a big deserted house by the ocean of a winding paved road that runs beside the ocean?” he said.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Umm, well the road here isn’t paved anymore.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He chuckled. “Did someone come by and unpave it while we’ve been talking?”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She scowled at her phone. “You must think I’m an idiot.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“No, no,” he said. “You just didn’t mention that you left the paved road.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“You didn’t give me a chance.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Well, I’m giving you the chance now,” he said.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I was driving on the road by the ocean and I turned off it on some small street that should have been heading inland, but I think it took me back toward the coast. Anyway, I turned off that street trying to get back to the main road and I ended up on this dirt and gravel road. That’s where I got the flat and when I stopped I was like right in front of these big rusting iron gates and inside the gates is the house where I am now.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“And you can’t find anything to tell you the address of the house?” he asked.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“The numbers are worn off the house, if they were ever there in the first place and the gates probably had a number on them but all it has now is a 9 or it might be a 6 that is hanging upside down.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He chuckled. “So you’re at 9 or 6 dirt gravel road by the ocean. That should be easy to find.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Stop laughing. This isn’t funny.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He chuckled harder. “What about your gps in the car?”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She rolled her eyes at the ceiling. “It stopped working after I turned off the main road. I told you that thing was a worthless piece of junk.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“What do you mean stopped working?”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“The screen went black and it kept saying ‘Off map’ over and over until I hit the thing about a dozen times.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Believe it or not,” Billy said, “that actually helps. There aren’t many places by the ocean that aren’t on the grid.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“So you’re going to come get me?” she asked.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I’m thinking about it,” he said. “Are you going to make me sleep on the couch?”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“If you don’t stop teasing me.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I think I’ll stop by the apartment first and pick up your hairbrush,” he said.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“What on Earth for?”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He chuckled. “Don’t worry, I won’t tease you with it.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Billy!”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Just relax, Babe,” he said, “I’m coming to get you. Call me if anyone shows up or if you figure out more about where you are. Otherwise, just sit tight.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The call ended. Charlotte put away her phone and scouted out the downstairs. She wandered from room to room, lifting sheets on various tables, yanking open drawers, all in search of a piece of mail or something that might give her a better idea of exactly where she was. In the end there was nothing.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She returned to the front of the house and entered the sitting room. The room had two armchairs, a sofa, three side tables and a coffee table, and a small desk against the side wall underneath a window. Charlotte carefully uncovered the sofa, folding the sheet so as to trap as much of its dust and cobwebs inside of itself. She laid the folded she aside on the coffee table.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The sofa, like the rest of the house, was old. Its fabric was silky, untorn and a muted green color somewhere in between lime and sage. The framing was a dark wood, mahogany perhaps or cherry. The dim light provided by the moon made it too difficult to tell for certain.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She sat on the sofa. It was springy and soft. She looked over its back out the front window. No signs of life. It would likely be a long while before Billy found his way to her. She kicked her heels off and put her feet up on the sofa. It took only a few moments before the temptation to lie down was too great. She rested her head on the arm and curled her toes into cushion and underneath the padded arm on the opposite end. Her eyes fluttered closed and she drifted off to sleep.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Charlotte dreamed of the house the way it should have been. Bright. Clean. Occupied. She was upstairs in a bedroom. The bed was unmade. Clothes were scattered on the floor in piles and individually. They were mostly dresses, but there were skirts and blouses, bras and panties, nylons and pantyhose, and shoes all over as well. The closet door was open, clothing blocking it from moving. Dresser drawers were in various states of openness, clothing hanging out or pinched between the drawer and the frame.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She looked in the mirror and saw herself, only younger. A teenager. The age fit. She had kept her room quite the mess in her teenage years. Her mother had often complained. The old scolding taunted in her ears. </span><span style="font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When are you going to clean your room. It looks like a tornado hit it. How do you even walk around in there?</span><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Charlotte turned toward the door. She kicked clothes out of the path and pulled the door open. The chandelier above the stairs was lit, providing light to the upstairs hallway. There was no dust or dirt or cobwebs. She looked around. The other bedroom doors were closed. She left hers open and headed down the stairs. At the bottom, she stopped.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">An authoritative masculine voice rattled her bones. “Where do you think you’re going?”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Out,” she said as if it were the most natural response in the world.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The man was tall. He wore a black wool suit with a matching vest that had a gold chain watch hanging from it. The white shirt looked like it was silk as did the strings of his untied bow tie. His black hair was trimmed neat in a timeless fashion. He moved quickly toward her, his right hand blurred through the air and slapped against her cheek in an echoing blow.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He wagged a scolding finger in front of her nose. “I won’t be having any of your sass tonight, young lady.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Charlotte coddled her stinging cheek in her hand. She stared at the man open-mouthed.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He kept wagging his finger. “Now, I asked you a question, Charlotte.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She closed her mouth, stopped holding her cheek. “I was going to see Billy.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">His hand dropped to his side. “I told you to stay away from that boy.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She stomped her foot on the floor, just like what she would have done when she was a teen. “I love him and he loves me.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“If it’s true love it will wait and if it’s not it will pass,” he said. “Right now you’ve got more important things to focus on than boys.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She folded her arms across her chest and glared up at the man. “It’s not fair.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">His face softened. He smiled. “I’m sure it seems that way right now, but someday you’ll look back on this and understand that I’m only looking out for your best interest.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She pouted at him, but there was nothing to be said. No argument was going to win anyway.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He looked up the stairs in the direction of her bedroom. “Did you clean your room today like I asked?”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She shook her head.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Why not?” he asked.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She shrugged. “I don’t know.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her with him into the sitting room. “I warned you what was going to happen if you didn’t.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She struggled fruitlessly against his hold. “I’ll do it now. I promise.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He sat in the center of the sofa, holding her next to his leg. “You’ll do it tonight alright,” he said. “Right after I’ve finished heating your buns.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“You don’t have to. I’ll do it. I’ll do it,” she pleaded.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Stop struggling,” he said. “I’m going to let go of you and you’re going to stand right where you are and strip down to your panties. If you make me get up and chase you, it will be twice as bad, understood?”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She stared down at him. There was no escaping his grasp. She looked out the window behind the sofa, but she could only see herself and the room reflected in the blackness. Her gaze returned to him. She nodded.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He kept his hold. “I want to hear you say it.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She sighed. “Yes, Sir.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He released his hold on her wrist.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The instinct to run was only barely manageable. Trepidation thudded in her chest. Her legs felt wobbly and her hands trembled. She glanced at the window again. “Can I close the curtain?”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“No,” he said. “If you want to avoid these sessions, you’ll learn to behave and do as you’re told.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Resigned to the inevitability of her situation, Charlotte unfastened her skirt and allowed it to fall to the floor. She picked it up, folded it and placed it on the coffee table. Her finger quickly unbuttoned her blouse, remembering at the last moment to undo the cuffs before pulling it off. She folded it as well and laid it on top of the skirt. Her shoes came off next, she left them on the floor next to the foot of the coffee table. She carefully rolled her stockings off her legs one at time and wadded them together, laying them on her blouse. Her fingers reached up behind her to the clasp of her bra and she looked pleadingly in the man’s direction, hoping he might allow her to keep it on. His eyes gave no reprieve. She unclasped the white garment and let it slip down her arms away from her breasts. It folded methodically in her hands and rested atop the pile of her clothes.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He picked up a small paddle that was resting on the cushion beside him. It was oval like a hairbrush without the bristles. The wood was stained dark and had a gloss to it that reflected the lamp light from the corner of the room. He patted his lap with his free hand. “You know the position,” he said.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Slow. Reluctant. She laid herself across his lap, her toes and hands resting on the floor. The touch of his hand on her naked back sent a shiver along her spine. She felt the paddle rest against the thin cotton of her white panties. It too was cold. She felt the paddle leave and an instant later it returned with a loud smack that temporarily indented her right cheek. It left behind a fierce sting. She blinked and stared at his pant leg. A simple glimpse of her freely swaying breasts sent a fresh wave of embarrassment flooding through her skin and made her face burn hot.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The feeling faded quickly, replaced by the sting of another swat from the paddle. Her left cheek bounced. The paddle smacked the right side again and returned to the left an instant later. She breathed heavily as the sting increased and made her legs jostle. The swats kept coming. She lost count. Tears stung at her eyes. Her legs kicked involuntarily. She squirmed over his lap. His free hand kept her pinned in place with ease.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Tears slipped from the corners of her eyes. She was breathless. Her butt was bouncing, breasts were swaying, legs were kicking and then the spanking stopped. The paddle rested against her bottom. It felt cool against her hot butt. Her breathing evened out and the tears stopped falling. She sniffled and wiped at her face with the back of her hand.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He tapped the paddle lightly on her panties. “Time for these to come off,” he said.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She looked up at him, over her shoulder. “Please, I’ve learned my lesson. I promise.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He delivered a rapid six swats that left her yelping. “You’re going to get just as many with them off as you get with them on. Do you want to take them off now or shall I continue a while longer?”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Charlotte pushed herself up off his lap and rose back to her feet. She wanted to stand there taking as much time away from being over his lap as she could, but she knew his patience would be strained. Her fingers found the waistband of her panties and she pulled them down her legs until they fell all the way to the floor. She folded them into a square and placed them with the rest of her clothes on the coffee table.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He patted his lap.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She bit her lip and laid herself back down. His cold hand secured her to him and the paddle resumed its smacking of her bottom. The sting doubled and redoubled. Tears spilled from her eyes again and she began yelping in an almost rhythmic response to the paddle’s loud smacks. Her butt burned like standing too close to an open fireplace. She kicked and squirmed, but as before, he held her in place.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The spanking came to an end. It took a few moments before her breathing returned to normal, before the tears stopped falling, before her legs stopped kicking. She sniffled and wiped at her face with the back of her hand. His hand remained pressed against her naked back, the paddle rested against her burning hot buttocks. She waited.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He said, “You’ve got at least a half hour before dinner. In that time you are going to go upstairs and clean your room, like you were supposed to do earlier today. If, when I come to get you for dinner, it’s not done, you’re going to spend all of dinner in the corner and afterward we will be taking a trip out to the stables. Now tell me, what happens when we take a trip to the stables?”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Her thoughts swirled around the mess in her room upstairs. Half an hour would barely make a dent in the disaster. “Please,” she said, intending to ask for more time.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He swatted her butt a dozen times with the paddle. “What happens?”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She pushed back against the sobs threatening to overrun her. “You’ll use the strap,” she said amidst sniffles.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“That’s right,” he said. He lifted her off his lap and onto her feet. “I suggest you get going.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She reached for her clothes.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He slapped her hands away. “I told you to clean your room, not to get dressed. Now get going before I put you back over my knee.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She coddled her burning butt in her hands and rushed toward the stairs. Her hands massaged at her cheeks all the way up the stairs. Inside her bedroom she closed the door and began shoveling clothes off the floor and into the hamper as fast as she could manage. She straightened the dresser and closed its drawers properly. The shoes stacked neatly inside the closet. Her ears prickled at the sound of footsteps on the stairs. The bed remained unmade. She hustled toward it. Her hands pulled at the sheets, desperate to get them into place. The door opened.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Charlotte gasped. Her eyes snapped open. She blinked and the room came slowly into focus. Sunlight shined in through the window. She sat up and realized she wasn’t in the sitting room, but rather one of the upstairs bedrooms. It looked eerily similar to the one in her dream. Her butt ached, no doubt a remnant of the spanking she dreamed. She shivered. It was cold. A glance down at herself told her why; she was naked.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She rolled off the bed onto her feet. Her butt still ached. She twisted for a glimpse and saw red. It couldn’t be. She pulled the sheet off the dresser, exposing its mirror. The reflection left no doubt. Her butt was vibrantly red with the marks of an oval paddle the size of a hairbrush. She searched the room for her clothes and came up empty. Embarrassed, she tiptoed downstairs, hoping no one would be around. Her hands did their best to cover her nakedness.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">In the sitting room, she found her clothing. It was neatly folded and piled on the coffee table. Her shoes rested on the floor at the foot of the table. It was all just like in her dream. Impossible. She dressed and heard the sound of car on the gravel outside. Billy had arrived.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She ran outside and hugged him as soon as stepped out of the car. “You’re here.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He hugged her back. “You have no idea what I went through to find you.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She kissed him. “Thank you. Let’s fix my tire so we can get out of here.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He chuckled. “Not so fast.” He pulled her hairbrush out of his jacket pocket. “Let’s go inside and take care of this.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She shook her head. “It can wait until we get home.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ve got a strap waiting for you when we get home. Now get inside or do you want me to spank your bare bottom right out here?”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Charlotte rubbed her sore butt. “Please Billy. You don’t understand.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He grabbed her wrist and pulled her toward the house. “I understand perfectly,” he said, “and in a few minutes you’re going to understand.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She followed him into the house, straight into the sitting room. He sat in the center of the sofa. She stood by his leg. He looked up at her, holding the hairbrush firmly in his hand. She undressed. He pulled her over his lap.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“You’ve already been spanked today?” he said.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I was trying to tell you,” she said.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He patted her butt with the back of the hairbrush. “Considering you broke into this house and spent the night without permission, I guess you deserved it. Hopefully the owners won’t mind me following suit.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7238450264558196" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Charlotte imagined they wouldn’t.</span></b></div>
Ashley Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14242036743645170042noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7518647266576010083.post-61920971245608257172012-10-30T07:00:00.000-07:002012-10-30T07:00:04.200-07:00Rosecliff, Episode 028<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYq78OaQNoet09e2uILe6YBVFYwsNYtIlqU31cxmEvqjvXiJXNGVQHTQilWAG0uoJXu1R3IK-xQeI-JkBJzn824D8P6P4TVh1F3x4vzHuyR_VUIiSTaF5RPuT-2uCjmih8e8liUxC6P3xy/s1600/TRICover01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYq78OaQNoet09e2uILe6YBVFYwsNYtIlqU31cxmEvqjvXiJXNGVQHTQilWAG0uoJXu1R3IK-xQeI-JkBJzn824D8P6P4TVh1F3x4vzHuyR_VUIiSTaF5RPuT-2uCjmih8e8liUxC6P3xy/s320/TRICover01.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.6661899876780808" style="font-weight: normal;"></b><br />
<h2 dir="ltr">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.6661899876780808" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 19px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Britney Pearce</span></b></h2>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.6661899876780808" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We, my roommates, Amy, Kate and Paula, and I sat together in the common room at the end of the day. The television was tuned to one of those science programs featuring ants from South America that could devour everything off a human skeleton in a matter of seconds. Of course the human skeletons remaining were living breathing people prior to the ant attack. It seemed an awful way to die and just being in the same room as the program was sure to make sleeping a bit more difficult. We did our best to ignore the grotesque programming and played our typical evening game of </span><span style="font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Spank Girl. </span><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It’s a rather simple variation of another popular word game that revolves around stick figures.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.6661899876780808" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Amy picked the words, calling them a title as our one and only hint. Every time it was my turn I guessed a wrong letter and got a little more of the girl drawn. My thoughts really weren’t on the game. I could tell Kate was more or less feeling the same way. It’s like that on days you get punished for something. Come after dinner, you don’t want to hang out in the common room. The less you’re wearing the more you want to be somewhere else and Kate and I were stripped down to panties, socks and shoes. There wasn’t much more to lose. All I really wanted to do was crawl into my bed and forget about the awful day. I guess Kate felt the same.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.6661899876780808" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Paula got annoyed with us when we lost. She’s avoided a spanking for a little bit so she’s starting to think of herself as being better than the rest of us. That happens. The next spanking is the cure, but sometimes a girl can go a while between spankings. Especially those of us that have been here a long time and more or less know how it all works. Still, the spankings always return, even when you think you’ve got yourself covered from every angle. All it takes is a Monitor, like Carol Sato, to throw a wrench (is that better called a paddle?) into things. And one spanking has a tendency to lead toward another and another.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.6661899876780808" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Paula rolled her eyes and shook her head at the ceiling. “Did you two get your brains knocked out of your heads when you got spanked this morning?”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.6661899876780808" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Kate scowled at Paula. The two of them didn’t always get along even in the best of times. “How about you strip down to your panties and we see how focused you are then?”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.6661899876780808" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Paula smiled and fluttered her eyelashes at Kate. “It’s a consequence of not behaving, Kate. No wonder you’re constantly getting in trouble if you stop focusing on what you’re doing whenever you’re a little embarrassed by your situation.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.6661899876780808" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I touched Paula’s arm, distracting her attention away from Kate. “You know it’s not that simple. I’ve been over four years and I’m still not used to walking around half naked or worse.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.6661899876780808" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Kate leaned into the table. “And today was worse cause it wasn’t even fair. I mean she was late to class and then punishes us as if we were interrupting her teaching when she wasn’t even there.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.6661899876780808" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Paula laughed. “The rules are the rules. Just cause the teacher is not there to enforce them doesn’t mean you should stop following them and it certainly doesn’t mean you should get away with breaking them.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.6661899876780808" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I shook my head. “You wouldn’t feel that way if it was your butt.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.6661899876780808" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Paula smiled. “It’s not my butt because I know better and wouldn’t have done what you two did in the first place. As far as I’m concerned, you got off light.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.6661899876780808" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Fortunately, the evening bell rang, signalling time for bed. Further conversation was only going to lead to trouble and neither Kate nor I need more trouble. Paula and Amy, well sometimes I think they could use an extra spanking or two, just to remind them they aren’t quite perfect either. If I were a monitor I could do that, but I’m not. Then again, Abigail’s status as a monitor was definitely in jeopardy after her latest stunt. Maybe I’d get the opportunity again. I could always tell Ms. Chambers I’d like the chance. Definitely something better to think about in bed than those damn ants.</span></b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.6661899876780808" style="font-weight: normal;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvclVsTjPGlt0qSWRxclB6vUAXN5p2dU-mlpeSFfnLx7hEunq3a7NM2FWG5SMNtIgp92kVTxPHkG-Tg6L8eMc-vs7oNnazqFQJcaUlPVHJClXFHZGRfE35X_H6bXgWjqHlqDZEXgKP1Z5R/s1600/SpankGirl.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvclVsTjPGlt0qSWRxclB6vUAXN5p2dU-mlpeSFfnLx7hEunq3a7NM2FWG5SMNtIgp92kVTxPHkG-Tg6L8eMc-vs7oNnazqFQJcaUlPVHJClXFHZGRfE35X_H6bXgWjqHlqDZEXgKP1Z5R/s400/SpankGirl.jpg" width="400" /></a></b></div>
<div>
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.6661899876780808" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></b></div>
Ashley Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14242036743645170042noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7518647266576010083.post-38252692798459341962012-10-29T07:00:00.000-07:002012-10-29T07:00:07.607-07:00Rosecliff, Episode 027<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYq78OaQNoet09e2uILe6YBVFYwsNYtIlqU31cxmEvqjvXiJXNGVQHTQilWAG0uoJXu1R3IK-xQeI-JkBJzn824D8P6P4TVh1F3x4vzHuyR_VUIiSTaF5RPuT-2uCjmih8e8liUxC6P3xy/s1600/TRICover01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYq78OaQNoet09e2uILe6YBVFYwsNYtIlqU31cxmEvqjvXiJXNGVQHTQilWAG0uoJXu1R3IK-xQeI-JkBJzn824D8P6P4TVh1F3x4vzHuyR_VUIiSTaF5RPuT-2uCjmih8e8liUxC6P3xy/s320/TRICover01.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9878572328016162" style="font-weight: normal;"></b><br />
<h2 dir="ltr">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9878572328016162" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 19px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Margaret Lange</span></b></h2>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9878572328016162" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The remaining girls introduced themselves without incident. There was Gillian Shafer, a 19 year old brunette who looked even younger due to her rather short stature. She, like me, was assigned to Tanzanite House. Her sentence was seven years for grand theft auto. Tamara Boles, a 25 year old, tall, average built woman with black hair and ebony skin was assigned to Citrine House. Her crime was vandalism resulting in a 3 year stay at the Institute. There was Sophia Lamar, a 22 year old, redhead with sparkling green eyes and an impressive athletic form with ample, if not abundant curvature. She was convicted of petty theft and sentenced to 2 years residing in Peridot House. Next, was an 18 year old, blonde haired, blue eyed girl of average body type, curvy and well proportioned, named Misty Hauser. She was assigned to Peridot House for a three year stint over a case of breaking and entering into the administration building of her former high school. It sounded a lot like a prank gone wrong, but apparently the school district had a zero tolerance policy and a district attorney that backed it up. Evelyn Davenport was the oldest in the room at 28. She was a fairly tall brunette with a lithe, well-toned form. Her crime was assaulting a police officer which resulted in a three year sentence with her assigned to Ruby House. Last, there was Willow Singh, a 27 year old asian woman with a gymnasts’ build. Assigned to Sapphire House, she was sentenced to two years for contempt of court.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9878572328016162" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Mrs. Rosecliff removed the two tongue tawse from its hook beside the door, grabbed Rhonda from her place in the line and dragged her to the same spot we had all introduced ourselves from, only this time Rhonda was naked save for her socks and shoes and her bare butt was facing the rest of us rather than her angry face. The tip of the tawse pointed at Rhonda’s shoes. Mrs. Rosecliff said, “Bend down and touch your toes.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9878572328016162" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Rhonda’s head turned in Mrs. Rosecliff’s direction. “And what if I don’t, Mrs. Rosecliff?”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9878572328016162" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Mrs. Rosecliff’s eyes seemed to sparkle with delight. A smile, devilish and dangerous, formed on her pink lips. “Then you’ll find out that the punishment for resisting punishment is far worse than taking what you’re due. I’ll give you to the count of three to decide which punishment you prefer. If you’re not touching your toes, things will get a lot worse for you, but it’s really your decision.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9878572328016162" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">They stared at each other. Mrs. Rosecliff’s smile seemed to grow by the second. She said, “One.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9878572328016162" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Rhonda huffed. I could see a slight frown on her face.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9878572328016162" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Two.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9878572328016162" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Rhonda faced forward and bent down, stretching her fingers out until they brushed the tops of her shoes. Her brown hair dangled on the floor and her cheeks turned rosy as she stared at the line of us girls from between her legs. I felt awkward looking back at her, especially given her exposure, naked buttocks, slightly parted, vulva protruding and of course her breasts hanging toward her neck with stiff nipples. The only way to not look was to close my eyes and something told me that closing my eyes in front of Mrs. Rosecliff could result in sharing Rhonda’s embarrassment in a much more personal and interactive manner. It was a possibility I preferred avoiding, though I realized embarrassing spankings and other punishments were a fact of life at Rosecliff.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9878572328016162" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Mrs. Rosecliff took up a proper position behind and to the side of Rhonda. She lashed the tawse down on Rhonda’s pale buttocks the promised total of 22 times, turning the fair-colored skin a bright, hot red. Each stroke was accompanied by a dullish thud and snap. Rhonda counted aloud, cried, sniffled, yelped and moaned throughout the ordeal. The last strokes were clearly the worst, aimed at the upper thighs, just beneath the buttocks. Rhonda nearly howled through them.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9878572328016162" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">After the spanking, Mrs. Rosecliff retrieved a bar of soap from her desk at the front of the room. She wet it in the classroom sink, mounted on the front wall, near the left corner of the room. Rhonda was made to face us, given the bar of soap and instructed to insert it into her own mouth, massaging it around her tongue, teeth and cheeks. White soapy drool ran from the corners of her mouth. Mrs. Rosecliff instructed her to fully insert the bar in her mouth, clamp down on it with her teeth and stand in the corner facing the classroom for the remainder of the class time. It was probably only about ten minutes, but I rather imagine it seemed an eternity to the crying Rhonda.</span></b></div>
<div>
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9878572328016162" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></b></div>
Ashley Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14242036743645170042noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7518647266576010083.post-15965131533307183352012-10-26T07:00:00.000-07:002012-10-26T07:00:06.650-07:00Rosecliff, Episode 026<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYq78OaQNoet09e2uILe6YBVFYwsNYtIlqU31cxmEvqjvXiJXNGVQHTQilWAG0uoJXu1R3IK-xQeI-JkBJzn824D8P6P4TVh1F3x4vzHuyR_VUIiSTaF5RPuT-2uCjmih8e8liUxC6P3xy/s1600/TRICover01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYq78OaQNoet09e2uILe6YBVFYwsNYtIlqU31cxmEvqjvXiJXNGVQHTQilWAG0uoJXu1R3IK-xQeI-JkBJzn824D8P6P4TVh1F3x4vzHuyR_VUIiSTaF5RPuT-2uCjmih8e8liUxC6P3xy/s320/TRICover01.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7564847604371607" style="font-weight: normal;"></b><br />
<h2 dir="ltr">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7564847604371607" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 19px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Margaret Lange</span></b></h2>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7564847604371607" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“My name is Helen Rosecliff.” The blonde woman said from the front of the small classroom. She wore her hair in a tight bun that gave her angular features a severe look. Her hand thrust into the air displaying a delicate diamond ring. “I am Walter Rosecliff’s wife which means you will address me as Mrs. Rosecliff.” She looked over the ten of us standing before her. “When you have been given information it is appropriate to acknowledge it with a polite affirmation.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7564847604371607" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I knew what she expected. Some of the others did as well, but a few of the girls seemed completely oblivious to Mrs. Rosecliff’s expectations. Those of us who knew spoke in rough unison, “Yes, Mrs. Rosecliff.” The oblivious girls followed a moment later.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7564847604371607" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Mrs. Rosecliff gave the slightest of nods. Her expression betrayed no emotion, good or bad. She looked us over for a long, silent moment. “Starting from the left, each of you will step forward and introduce yourself, your age, your house assignment, your conviction and the length of your expected stay at the Institute.” Her hand gesture made it clear she meant her left, rather than ours.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7564847604371607" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Yes, Mrs. Rosecliff,” we replied.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7564847604371607" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The first girl stepped forward. Her legs trembled and she wrung her hands together in front of her skirt. She kept her head low, staring at the floor while her blonde hair dipped in front of her face. Her voice was soft and quiet like water trickling from a faucet. “I’m Teresa Martel from Sapphire House. I’m 22 years old and I was convicted of hazing and sentenced to four years here.” She immediately walked back to her place on the wall.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7564847604371607" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Mrs. Rosecliff fixed her gaze on Teresa once she was facing forward again. “We’ll work on your speech and grammar.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7564847604371607" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Teresa lowered her head farther. “Yes, Mrs. Rosecliff.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7564847604371607" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The next girl stepped forward. She exhibited all the confidence Teresa lacked. Her brown hair was tied neatly back in a ponytail and it bounced off her back as she walked and smartly turned to face the line of us. She smiled, friendly and domineering. “Rhonda Bartley. 24. I’m assigned to Ruby House. My conviction was for perjury because my dumbass boyfriend couldn’t keep his story straight. I’ll be here for three years.” She marched back to her spot.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7564847604371607" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Mrs. Rosecliff stared stared straight into Rhonda’s brown eyes. “We do not tolerate derogatory language at the Institute.” She tapped on her tablet for a moment and then returned her stare to Rhonda. “Strip down to your socks and shoes. We’ll wash your mouth out with soap after everyone else has done their introductions and give you a 22 swat spanking. After class you’ll visit Dean Rosecliff for another mouthsoaping and spanking. I trust you’ll have learned your lesson by bedtime and will allow you to dress again tomorrow morning.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7564847604371607" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Rhonda’s expression soured. “Yes, Mrs. Rosecliff.” Her tone said the opposite, but she stripped down to her socks and shoes without another word.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7564847604371607" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">From beside Rhonda, another brunette stepped forward, similar in build to Rhonda. She appeared less confident though, her hands pressed flat against the sides of her skirt. “My name is Celeste Simons and I am 23 years old. I was assigned to Citrine House. My crime was shoplifting and I am here for the next four years.” She returned to her place in line.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7564847604371607" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Mrs. Rosecliff said. “Thank you, Celeste.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7564847604371607" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Following Celeste, a tall blonde stepped forward. Her blue eyes were watery as if she were fighting back tears. Her legs seemed to tremble and voice wavered as she spoke. “I am Misty Hauser, 18 years old. Peridot House is my current residence for the next three years because I was found guilty of breaking and entering into the administration building at my former high school.” She returned to the line.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7564847604371607" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Next, was my turn. I stepped forward and faced the line. “My name is Margaret Lange and I’m 21 years old. I am assigned to Tanzanite House. My conviction was for accessory to theft and I’ve been sentenced to five years.” I returned to my place.</span></b></div>
Ashley Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14242036743645170042noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7518647266576010083.post-91438526334571559592012-10-25T07:00:00.000-07:002012-10-25T07:00:07.691-07:00Rosecliff, Episode 025<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYq78OaQNoet09e2uILe6YBVFYwsNYtIlqU31cxmEvqjvXiJXNGVQHTQilWAG0uoJXu1R3IK-xQeI-JkBJzn824D8P6P4TVh1F3x4vzHuyR_VUIiSTaF5RPuT-2uCjmih8e8liUxC6P3xy/s1600/TRICover01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYq78OaQNoet09e2uILe6YBVFYwsNYtIlqU31cxmEvqjvXiJXNGVQHTQilWAG0uoJXu1R3IK-xQeI-JkBJzn824D8P6P4TVh1F3x4vzHuyR_VUIiSTaF5RPuT-2uCjmih8e8liUxC6P3xy/s320/TRICover01.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.4459644416347146" style="font-weight: normal;"></b><br />
<h2 dir="ltr">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.4459644416347146" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 19px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Britney Pearce</span></b></h2>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.4459644416347146" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Kate and I stood at the front of the classroom, attired in only our white panties, socks, and black Mary Janes. Ms. Rutherford laid her textbook on the podium and took the brown leather strap from its hook near the door. She looked us both over as if inspecting what little remained of our uniforms for flaws. Apparently, she found none.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.4459644416347146" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Her voice lacked compassion. “Lower your panties to your knees and touch your toes.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.4459644416347146" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Yes, Miss,” we replied and complied without hesitation. I can’t say I appreciated the upside down view of my classmates though.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.4459644416347146" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Ms. Rutherford said, “I’ll not tolerate the disruption of unsolicited speech in this classroom. Britney, as you attempted to hide Kate’s involvement and have a rather busy record of minor offenses over the last month, you’ll receive 22 strokes. Kate, in recognition of your honesty and generally clean disciplinary record, you’ll receive 18. Do you girls find that fair?”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.4459644416347146" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Did it matter?</span><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> I badly wanted to ask the question, though I knew it would only bring more trouble.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.4459644416347146" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Yes, Miss,” we replied.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.4459644416347146" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Ms. Rutherford took up position behind Kate. “Britney, you will count Kate’s strokes. Any mistake or murmuring will add strokes to your own spanking. Understood?”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.4459644416347146" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Yes, Miss,” I said.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.4459644416347146" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I listened for the contact. The strap makes little noise passing through the air. But on contact, the strap can produce a variety of sounds ranging from a dull thud to a sharp snap. The way its swung and the amount of force are significant factors as well as the quality and thickness of the leather. My time at Rosecliff had taught me that not all straps and not all strappings were equal.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.4459644416347146" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Ms. Rutherford’s efforts resulted in the sharp snap. It echoed in the room and made me and every other bystander blink. Kate inhaled a sharp, squeaky breath. I watched her body jerk and her legs wobble. Her panties slipped a little farther down her legs.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.4459644416347146" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“One,” I said.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.4459644416347146" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The strap connected again. I counted, figuring Kate would rather get the spanking over with quickly rather than having long delays between strokes. Ms. Rutherford had no problem keeping pace. I counted and listened as Kate’s breaths turned sharper. If she shed tears I could hear no signs of them. The sting of 18 with the strap would undoubtedly be faded by lunch and a mere memory by dinner. Even the 22 coming for me would be weatherable. The standard straps in the classroom weren’t meant for leaving girls dancing around the class and nursing their backsides the rest of the day. They were just attention getters and they did the job well.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.4459644416347146" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">After Kate’s 18 were finished, Ms. Rutherford moved on to me. It was Kate’s turn to count while I concentrated on staying in position and breathing through the sharp spikes of attention gathering heat and sting being imparted on my bare butt. After the first dozen, the pace increased. It seemed a mere second interval between loud snapping contacts. My butt burned from the center of the cheeks all the way down to the tops of my thighs. I couldn’t fault Ms. Rutherford’s technique. Her efforts resulted in what I would call the most significant, and painful, strapping I’d received in a classroom. Tears even stung at the corners of my eyes when Kate counted the last stroke.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.4459644416347146" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Ms. Rutherford said, “Stand up girls, hands on your heads.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.4459644416347146" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We obliged. I blinked back tears. The even lines of the strap across my butt felt as pronounced as if they were strips of tape, tugging and pulling at my skin.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.4459644416347146" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Ms. Rutherford said, “You two can stand against the wall in the hallway for the remainder of today’s class. I’ll let you know when you can pull your panties up and go to your next class. Understood?”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.4459644416347146" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Yes, Miss,” we replied.</span></b></div>
Ashley Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14242036743645170042noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7518647266576010083.post-20636314196687570132012-10-24T07:00:00.000-07:002012-10-24T07:00:03.907-07:00Rosecliff, Episode 024<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYq78OaQNoet09e2uILe6YBVFYwsNYtIlqU31cxmEvqjvXiJXNGVQHTQilWAG0uoJXu1R3IK-xQeI-JkBJzn824D8P6P4TVh1F3x4vzHuyR_VUIiSTaF5RPuT-2uCjmih8e8liUxC6P3xy/s1600/TRICover01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYq78OaQNoet09e2uILe6YBVFYwsNYtIlqU31cxmEvqjvXiJXNGVQHTQilWAG0uoJXu1R3IK-xQeI-JkBJzn824D8P6P4TVh1F3x4vzHuyR_VUIiSTaF5RPuT-2uCjmih8e8liUxC6P3xy/s320/TRICover01.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.08104552770964801" style="font-weight: normal;"></b><br />
<h2 dir="ltr">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.08104552770964801" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 19px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Scarlet Watts</span></b></h2>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.08104552770964801" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">23 girls stared at me. They sat straight-backed in their hard chairs. Their backs were turned to the computer workstations that lined the perimeter of the classroom. Ms. Chambers stood behind me against the wall, beside the door. I stood in the center of the room, exposed from all angles. My thoughts struggled to remain on topic.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.08104552770964801" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Keyboarding,” I said, feeling the intense scrutiny of a freckled redhead, Lindsay Owens, on my left staring at my sore buttocks, “or typing is one of the most fundamental skills in working with computers.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.08104552770964801" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">A snort drew my attention to the right side of the class. I could not identify the source, but I suspected the brunette, Vicki Stephens. Her gaze seemed inappropriately focused on my naked breasts. Envious, no doubt. I glared my way through the moment, until I felt control of the room was back in my hands.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.08104552770964801" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I said, “By the time you leave this class, you’ll know every key on the keyboard by memory and be able to type accurately without looking at a screen or watching your fingers. Some of you may even reach speeds of up to 90 words per minute.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.08104552770964801" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Control slipped again. Vicki’s brown eyes taunted me. Lindsay masked her amusement behind a facade of impassivity. I glanced toward the door and Ms. Chambers. She smiled. My situation pleased her. A streak of tension clenched my buttocks and reminded me of their tenderness. Ms. Chambers’ paddling, followed by Dean Rosecliff’s at dinner had ensured a restless night.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.08104552770964801" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I turned back to my class. The blonde, Cheryl Foster, sitting in the middle of the workstations along the far wall, quickly erased a smile from her lips. Her blue eyes laughed at me. The temptation to paddle every girl in the room was almost overwhelming. Ms. Chambers would never allow it. They had said nothing, broken no rules. I closed my eyes, reaching inside for control.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.08104552770964801" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The moment was teaching. Dean Rosecliff had hoped his demonstration would teach me the impact such punishments would have on the girls. It did indeed. Focusing on the tasks at hand was far more difficult than it should have been. The embarrassment, the shame, even the pain, kept returning and dominating my thoughts.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.08104552770964801" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">With my Uncle, punishments had always been the same. When it was over, I was always grateful. I learned my lessons and here I was learning that the intense methods still worked best. Less than three days into a five day punishment I was already intent on making certain the girls in my classes learned the same hard lessons I had learned. They would all be the better for it.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.08104552770964801" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Your first assignment,” I said, “is to take out your notebook and draw a picture of the keyboard on your desk,” The shuffle of girls digging for their notebooks and pencils filled the room. I smiled. “without looking at it.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.08104552770964801" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">A few gasps came from around the room.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.08104552770964801" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Be as accurate as possible,” I said. Maybe Ms. Chambers would allow me to discipline the girls whose drawings were more than 30% inaccurate.</span></b></div>
Ashley Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14242036743645170042noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7518647266576010083.post-60736228778015861162012-10-23T07:00:00.000-07:002012-10-23T07:00:02.654-07:00Rosecliff, Episode 023<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYq78OaQNoet09e2uILe6YBVFYwsNYtIlqU31cxmEvqjvXiJXNGVQHTQilWAG0uoJXu1R3IK-xQeI-JkBJzn824D8P6P4TVh1F3x4vzHuyR_VUIiSTaF5RPuT-2uCjmih8e8liUxC6P3xy/s1600/TRICover01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYq78OaQNoet09e2uILe6YBVFYwsNYtIlqU31cxmEvqjvXiJXNGVQHTQilWAG0uoJXu1R3IK-xQeI-JkBJzn824D8P6P4TVh1F3x4vzHuyR_VUIiSTaF5RPuT-2uCjmih8e8liUxC6P3xy/s320/TRICover01.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9202766909729689" style="font-weight: normal;"></b><br />
<h2 dir="ltr">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9202766909729689" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 19px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Britney Pearce</span></b></h2>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9202766909729689" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I heard she was called to the Dean’s office,” said Kate Morris. She tossed the long strands of her strawberry blonde hair over her shoulder as she leaned closer to me in her desk.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9202766909729689" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I stared at the shut classroom door for a long moment before surrendering my attention to Kate. We’d been friends and roommates since her arrival. She was one of the few girls actually older than me at the Institute, though I had a year’s seniority on her in my stay. I glanced around the classroom. Most of the girls were smart enough to use the few minutes of our teacher’s absence to read from the textbook. Kate and I had used our free period Sunday evening to read the first three chapters.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9202766909729689" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Ms. Rutherford?” I asked in a hushed voice.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9202766909729689" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Kate nodded. “Amy heard Ms. Chambers talking to Mrs. Rosecliff. Apparently, Ms. Rutherford went into town last night and didn’t come back until like 3 AM.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9202766909729689" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My thoughts immediately ran toward Paula and I Saturday afternoon in town. It sounded like Ms. Rutherford had a boy of her own. Obviously, teachers and staff have a bit more flexibility, well not physically, than the students when it comes to relationships. Still, on school nights, Sunday through Thursday, the houses are supposed to be locked down by midnight. Either Ms. Rutherford spent the night on the front steps or she snuck into the building and got caught. Regardless, it was considered out of bounds and subject to discipline from the Dean.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9202766909729689" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I glanced toward the door again. Still no sign of anyone. “Wouldn’t Ms. Chambers be here to sub if she knew Ms. Rutherford would be detained?” I asked.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9202766909729689" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Kate shrugged. “It wouldn’t be the first time Amy exaggerated, but you got admit it has credence given Ms. Rutherford’s absence.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9202766909729689" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“She could just be running late,” I said.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9202766909729689" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The click of the door closing startled me. Ms. Rutherford, leveled her brown eyes on me from the front of the room. She held the textbook under her arm. “Britney Pearce isn’t it?”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9202766909729689" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I straightened in my chair, facing the front of the classroom without meeting Ms. Rutherford’s intimidating gaze. “Yes, Miss.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9202766909729689" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“You’ve been here four years and counting, correct?” she asked.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9202766909729689" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Yes, Miss.” I could have broken it down into hours and minutes for her, but the details seemed unimportant.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9202766909729689" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I would think you’d have learned the rules by now,” she said.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9202766909729689" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Sorry, Miss,” I said, biting my lip. There was always hope to avoid discipline on the first day of a new term, but Ms. Rutherford’s reputation mostly squashed that hope. It also seemed Amy’s eavesdropping lacked any ties to reality. Ms. Rutherford wore her typical stern expression and a complete tan skirt suit, including a white blouse, nude stockings, and beige heels. Not a thread out of place, suggesting that the worst part of her morning was walking into the room and listening to one of her students casually talk about her tardiness. “I was just thinking aloud.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9202766909729689" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Ms. Rutherford rolled her eyes at me. “You were talking. The only question is who else was talking with you?”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9202766909729689" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I swallowed hard. Giving up a friend for punishment is not the sort of thing a girl does at Rosecliff. At least if she doesn’t want to spend her entire sentence being abused by the other girls. Keeping quiet didn’t always work with the teachers, but most of us figure out its better to turn ourselves in when push comes to shove than force a friend to do it.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9202766909729689" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Kate cleared her throat. “It was me Ms. Rutherford. I started the conversation. Britney was only answering my question.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.9202766909729689" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Ms. Rutherford nodded. “Thank you, Kate. I appreciate your honesty.” Her gaze shifted between us. “Strip down to your panties and come to the front of the room, girls.”</span></b></div>
Ashley Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14242036743645170042noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7518647266576010083.post-46559349451537580652012-10-22T07:00:00.000-07:002012-10-22T07:00:08.499-07:00Rosecliff, Episode 022<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYq78OaQNoet09e2uILe6YBVFYwsNYtIlqU31cxmEvqjvXiJXNGVQHTQilWAG0uoJXu1R3IK-xQeI-JkBJzn824D8P6P4TVh1F3x4vzHuyR_VUIiSTaF5RPuT-2uCjmih8e8liUxC6P3xy/s1600/TRICover01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYq78OaQNoet09e2uILe6YBVFYwsNYtIlqU31cxmEvqjvXiJXNGVQHTQilWAG0uoJXu1R3IK-xQeI-JkBJzn824D8P6P4TVh1F3x4vzHuyR_VUIiSTaF5RPuT-2uCjmih8e8liUxC6P3xy/s320/TRICover01.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.735600825631991" style="font-weight: normal;"></b><br />
<h2 dir="ltr">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.735600825631991" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 19px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Abigail Hastings</span></b></h2>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.735600825631991" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Listening to Ms. Watts get spanked behind me was more than a little nerve-racking. I’d heard the rumors of course. Ms. Chambers is said to be as hard on the staff as she is on the students. It was my first experience with direct knowledge of it though. And by the sounds of the paddle smacking Ms. Watts’ bottom, I blinked in unison with each one, I’d say she might actually be harder on the staff. Not that I want to put the theory to a test.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.735600825631991" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It took about a half hour after the last swat for Ms. Watts to stop sobbing. I spent the whole time staring at the corner. Ms. Watts spent it standing in front of the window, looking out at the girls practicing sports on the field. I was more than happy not to switch places. But once Ms. Watts settled down, things took a less beneficial turn.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.735600825631991" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Ms. Chambers called me out of the corner. “Abigail, as a monitor part of your responsibilities include assisting the staff. Today, you’re going to be doing just that. Ms. Watts here, needs to be certified in the use of the leather paddle and strap before classes begin tomorrow. She needs a bottom to practice on and given your current status, yours will do nicely.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.735600825631991" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I blinked at her in an awkward silence while Ms. Watts played with the leather paddle, smacking it against her open palm. The stern expression worn by Ms. Chambers prompted me to end the silence though I didn’t quite know what I should say. It’s not like I wanted to point out that monitor status had been suspended and I wasn’t really supposed to be helping the staff or anyone else in that capacity. I mean, yeah I wanted to point that out, but I sort of figured Ms. Chambers had already thought that little point through and I probably didn’t want to know exactly what her response would be. Not probably. I definitely didn’t want to know. The leather paddle and leather strap weren’t exactly the worst implements to serve as a training tool. Still, jumping for joy and thanking Ms. Chambers for her thoughtful inclusion of me in the education of the newest member of the Institute’s staff were not exactly the sort of response the situation inspired either. I settled on the less is more approach. Dad always said the more I opened my mouth the farther my foot went in.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.735600825631991" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Yes, Miss,” I said.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.735600825631991" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Ms. Chambers turned toward Ms. Watts. “There are a variety of positions available for use when disciplining the girls, but for now I want you to stick with the basic, touch-your-toes position. Put Abigail in position and take up a comfortable stance behind her and to the side where you can easily swing the paddle without the interference of obstacles.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.735600825631991" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Ms. Watts dipped her head to Ms. Chambers. “Yes, Miss.” She turned her gaze on me and it felt cold. “Abigail, face the window take two steps forward and bend down, touching your toes with your fingertips.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.735600825631991" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I took a deep breath. “Yes, Miss.” Fingertips on my toes, I watched Ms. Watts take up position and then be guided in closer and turned more perpendicular to my position by Ms. Chambers. It reminded me of my own training.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.735600825631991" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Ms. Chambers said, “Give her a few light swats, practicing aiming at the center of butt cheeks and alternating from left to right to ensure equal coverage across her bottom.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.735600825631991" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The first swat was anything but light. My right butt cheek stung like mad. “One,” I said.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.735600825631991" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Amused, Ms. Chambers said, “No need to count Abigail. You’ll get whatever it takes, nothing more, nothing less.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.735600825631991" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Ms. Watts kept swinging the paddle in a regular, rather fast paced rhythm. Most of my experiences with the leather paddle left me feeling rather relieved because the spankings essentially only stung and they didn’t even do that for long. Not so with Ms. Watts. She made my butt hot and stinging. I actually had tears in my eyes by the time Ms. Chambers declared Ms. Watts leather paddle certified.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.735600825631991" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Unfortunately, we still had the leather strap to go and Ms. Watts was quite adept with it too. By the time she was certified and I was allowed to go, I’m not sure which of our butts was the hotter and redder. At least I’d already my punishment spanking for the day at breakfast. Poor Ms. Watts still had a spanking coming at dinner. My butt was still pretty sore come then, but I have no doubt Ms. Watts got the worst end of the deal. I swear her butt was still pulsating and glowing when the rest of went to bed. It’s probably the first time I ever felt bad for someone who had just spanked me to tears.</span></b></div>
Ashley Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14242036743645170042noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7518647266576010083.post-24193815518715235312012-10-19T07:00:00.000-07:002012-10-19T07:00:06.424-07:00Rosecliff, Episode 021<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYq78OaQNoet09e2uILe6YBVFYwsNYtIlqU31cxmEvqjvXiJXNGVQHTQilWAG0uoJXu1R3IK-xQeI-JkBJzn824D8P6P4TVh1F3x4vzHuyR_VUIiSTaF5RPuT-2uCjmih8e8liUxC6P3xy/s1600/TRICover01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYq78OaQNoet09e2uILe6YBVFYwsNYtIlqU31cxmEvqjvXiJXNGVQHTQilWAG0uoJXu1R3IK-xQeI-JkBJzn824D8P6P4TVh1F3x4vzHuyR_VUIiSTaF5RPuT-2uCjmih8e8liUxC6P3xy/s320/TRICover01.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.3877248566132039" style="font-weight: normal;"></b><br />
<h2 dir="ltr">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.3877248566132039" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 19px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Scarlet Watts</span></b></h2>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.3877248566132039" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Katherine Chambers’s office was easily found near the front doors of Tanzanite House. I arrived at the same time as one of the girls. She was almost as naked as I, except she retained the white socks and black shoes of her uniform. I didn’t know her name, but I recognized her from the previous evening in the common room. It seemed many of the girls were quite amused with her predicament which told me she was likely not one of the more troublesome girls, despite appearances to the contrary. Then again, I reminded myself, the girls attending Rosecliff Institute were not innocents.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.3877248566132039" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Miss Chambers rose from her seat behind her desk when we entered. The door closed behind us on a spring. My nearly naked companion lowered her gaze and folded her hands together behind her back. I decided to follow suit recalling Miss Chambers’ warning about treating her with respect. My backside was sore enough.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.3877248566132039" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Abigail, Scarlett,” Miss Chambers said, “thank you for coming.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.3877248566132039" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Abigail shifted her gaze to meet Miss Chambers’. “It’s always a pleasure, Miss.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.3877248566132039" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I suspected Abigail responded in the expected manner though I could hear a hint of sarcasm hanging off the words. I felt Miss Chambers’ gaze turn toward me. I mustered all the delicate politeness I possessed and recalled the days of living under my Uncle’s watchful eye. He demanded my respect as well, though I dare say he earned it. “Thank you for the invitation, Miss Chambers. It is a pleasure to be here.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.3877248566132039" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She smiled as if she heard falseness in my tone. “When girls in trouble are called in here, the experience is never pleasurable.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.3877248566132039" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I bristled at being called a girl. The similarities between myself and Abigail were mere surface coincidences. I chose to work at Rosecliff Institute, discipline policies and all. Abigail’s attendance, like all the students at Rosecliff, was mandatory. I said, “I may be new here, Miss Chambers, but I am not a student of the Institute. I deserve as much respect as any other teacher here.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.3877248566132039" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Miss Chambers scoffed at me. “I’ll treat you as I will treat any other member of this house whose behavior has them stripped of their attire and publicly disciplined. If you have a problem with that, we can always begin this afternoon’s lesson with a trip to the Dean’s office.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.3877248566132039" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I stared into her eyes. She wasn’t bluffing. I lowered my gaze. No need to make more trouble for myself. “That won’t be necessary, Miss.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.3877248566132039" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I’ll decide what is necessary,” she said. Her attention pivoted toward Abigail. “I gave you status and privileges as a monitor of this house and you’ve shamed your house and yourself with your behavior, both of which embarrasses me.” She snapped her fingers and pointed to far end of her office. “Nose in the corner and hands on your head.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.3877248566132039" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Abigail moved quickly. She stood in the far corner of the room, hands on head and making absolutely no sounds. Her back was stiff and straight. The redness of her buttocks glowed in infinite contrast to the white walls. I imagined I would not look much different standing in the corner. It was a humbling sight.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.3877248566132039" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Miss Chambers stepped closer to me until only inches separated us. “As a teacher assigned to my house you are expected to be a shining example for the students here. If you cannot do so by excellent behavior, you will do so by displaying the results of less than excellent behavior. Have I made myself clear?”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.3877248566132039" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Yes, Miss,” I said.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.3877248566132039" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She stepped back and lifted a large, clear paddle from her desktop. It was easily three inches longer than the paddle Dean Rosecliff used on me in the cafeteria. With the blunt end she pointed toward the open space to the right of her desk. “Over there, face the window and touch your toes.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.3877248566132039" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My mouth turned dry. The thought of that paddle smacking my bottom sent shivers of fear running through my body. I walked to the indicated spot as slowly as I dared and leaned down touching my toes as she demanded. My butt still ached from the previous two evening spankings and I didn’t want to think about how much more it would ache after Miss Chambers was through. And then there was Dean Rosecliff’s spanking still to come at dinner time yet again in just a few hours time.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.3877248566132039" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Miss Chambers rested the large paddle against my buttocks. “Any week in which a teacher of this house gets herself disciplined, results in a Sunday appointment here for an additional punishment that hopefully reminds her to behave more appropriately in the future. As you will still be punished this week, you can expect a repeat of this next Sunday. Understood?”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.3877248566132039" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I stared at her stocking clad legs, upside down through my naked legs. Carefully controlling my breathing, I said, “Yes, Miss.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.3877248566132039" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Miss Chambers raised the paddle. “This past week you received 56 swats from Dean Rosecliff on two occasions bringing the total swats received in the last week to 112. You will now receive 112 from me. Stay in position and count each swat or it will be repeated. Understood?”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.3877248566132039" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Tears pooled in my eyes. I blinked them away and concentrated on keeping my breathing even and steady. My uncle had given me several spankings in a single day on many occasions, but I couldn’t recall the total ever surpassing a hundred. Rosecliff Institute wasn’t known for going easy on discipline. That’s why I chose them. I realized Miss Chambers was waiting for my response. “I understand, Miss.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.3877248566132039" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The paddle collided with my butt. White hot twinges of pain shot through my body with the ripples of the paddle’s forceful impact. I counted and the next swat landed. It seemed Miss Chambers intended my butt to burn for the remainder of the day and probably well into the next. I counted each swat through tears and sobs. The experience of my Uncle’s spankings helped me stay in position despite the overwhelming desire to leap into the air and nurse my flaming bottom in my hands. By the time the last swat fell, I had completely forgotten about Abigail and the other purpose for my visit to Miss Chambers’ office. The pain and heat emanating from my buttocks consumed all my attention.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.3877248566132039" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I stood and faced Miss Chambers on her orders, my hands atop my head and tears streaming down my cheeks. Sobbing, I begged for a little bit of mercy. “P-please, M-miss, p-please m-may I-i p-please r-rub it-it ow-out.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.3877248566132039" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She smiled, meeting my gaze easily. “No, you may not and if I catch you even starting to rub, we’ll do this all over. Understood?”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.3877248566132039" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I closed my eyes. The hot pain ached for attention like an itch needing to be scratched. “Yes, Miss.”</span></b></div>
Ashley Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14242036743645170042noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7518647266576010083.post-60498292478815930202012-10-18T07:00:00.000-07:002012-10-18T07:00:00.999-07:00Rosecliff, Episode 020<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYq78OaQNoet09e2uILe6YBVFYwsNYtIlqU31cxmEvqjvXiJXNGVQHTQilWAG0uoJXu1R3IK-xQeI-JkBJzn824D8P6P4TVh1F3x4vzHuyR_VUIiSTaF5RPuT-2uCjmih8e8liUxC6P3xy/s1600/TRICover01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYq78OaQNoet09e2uILe6YBVFYwsNYtIlqU31cxmEvqjvXiJXNGVQHTQilWAG0uoJXu1R3IK-xQeI-JkBJzn824D8P6P4TVh1F3x4vzHuyR_VUIiSTaF5RPuT-2uCjmih8e8liUxC6P3xy/s320/TRICover01.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.5080068039242178" style="font-weight: normal;"></b><br />
<h2 dir="ltr">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.5080068039242178" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 19px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Margaret Lange</span></b></h2>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.5080068039242178" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">10AM Sunday, I reported to the third floor study room across the hall from my dorm room. The desks were all pushed against the wall and chairs were collected into a circle around the center of the room. I stood behind an empty chair, like the other twenty-four girls in the room. Jocelyn had explained the process to me, in excruciating detail and at such a speed I had been forced to ask her to repeat herself on a couple of the details that sounded important.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.5080068039242178" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">A bald man in a tan suit with a white shirt and no tie entered the room and stepped into the center of the circle. The chair closest to the door had been left open for him. He pushed his round glasses into place on his nose and looked around the room while pinching his mustache. His gaze stopped on me. His hand dropped to his side and he smiled. I felt like running.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.5080068039242178" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">His voice was unusually deep. “Margaret Lange?”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.5080068039242178" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I breathed deeply, suppressing panic. “Y-yes, Sir.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.5080068039242178" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Welcome to our group,” he said. “I’m Mr. Boggs.” He looked around the rest of the circle. “Take your seat ladies.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.5080068039242178" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I moved forward, circling toward the front of the chair I had selected.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.5080068039242178" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Mr. Boggs turned sharply in my direction. “Not you, Margaret. It’s customary for the speaker in our group to stand and we’re going to start off today with you introducing yourself and telling us all why you are here.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.5080068039242178" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I grabbed hold of the back of the chair. My hands were perspiring. I stared at Mr. Boggs’ open collar. “My name is Margaret Lange and I’m here because I don’t have any choice.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.5080068039242178" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Several girls snickered.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.5080068039242178" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Mr. Boggs said, “While that answer is truthful, it’s not exactly honest, is it Margaret?”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.5080068039242178" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I bit on my lip. It wasn’t that I didn’t understand what he wanted me to say, it was simply that I had a problem saying the words. The irony, that no one else understood or believed, was that the answer he wanted contained no honesty at all.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.5080068039242178" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Mr. Boggs sat in his chair and leaned forward, staring at me with his elbows resting in his lap. “I know it’s difficult, Margaret, but you’re not alone here. All the girls in this room have made serious mistakes, just like you. Now, you can share your story with us or you can take off that uniform and bend over the back of the chair, because if you can’t admit to what you’ve done, you haven’t earned the right to wear the Institute’s uniform.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.5080068039242178" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I sighed. It was no different when the lawyers brought the paperwork on the plea deal. Nobody cared what really happened. They all wanted the story the prosecutor developed. There was no innocence, only varying degrees of guilt. Brian had died and I couldn’t remember, but the prosecutor’s story didn’t make sense. “I went out to some clubs with Brian, my boyfriend.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.5080068039242178" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Some of the girls nodded. A couple groaned.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.5080068039242178" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Mr. Boggs said, “Go on.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.5080068039242178" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I took a deep breath. It steadied my nerves. “We were drinking, more than we should have been. I blacked out and woke up jail. The police told me we robbed a liquor store and Brian killed the clerk. I resisted arrest and Brian shot a police officer. Another police officer shot and killed Brian. I’m here because I made the choice of being with Brian when he did these things.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.5080068039242178" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Tears streamed down my cheeks. It still hurt talking about it and even more to tell it like the police did, like the prosecutor did. Brian hated guns. We never went to liquor stores. The only time we drank was at clubs and that was mostly because you had to pay for them anyway just to get in the door. I had only had two drinks on the night it happened and it was the only time in my entire life I had blacked out and couldn’t remember. Something happened that night, I know it, but the story isn’t the one I told. I don’t know the truth, but I absolutely know the lie.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 40.5pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.5080068039242178" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Mr. Boggs said, “Thank you, Margaret. I’m sure that was very painful for you. Please sit down and join us.”</span></b></div>
Ashley Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14242036743645170042noreply@blogger.com7