Rosecliff, Episode 010

Abigail Hastings

“No, Sir,” I said. Sean clearly felt he had to stick with the letter of the rules because of Margaret’s presence. Sometimes I just find it too hard switching between the person I am and the person the Institute expects me to be. Naturally, the trouble comes easier. I unbuttoned my bow tie, folded the strip in thirds and laid it on the counter. A quick glance toward Margaret confirmed her attention was split between the work in front of her nose and me.

Sean removed the clear paddle from the wall, it was shaped similar to a ping-pong paddle, and tapped its flat surface on the edge of the counter. “Hurry up, you’ll be late for dinner as it is.”

There was a time when I would have been blushing up a storm and trembling at just the thought of undressing in front of an audience in a shop. Three years at Rosecliff Institute cured me of that. I stripped out of my jumper and blouse, leaving me in just undergarments and socks and shoes. After folding the jumper and blouse, I removed my bra and then my panties, adding them to the pile. Hands on head, I faced Sean though I couldn’t quite bring myself to look him in the eye.

Sean stepped out from behind the counter, paddle gripped firmly in his right hand. He pointed at my shoes. “Touch your toes.”

I leaned forward, stretched my fingertips out toward the tops of my black shoes. My curly hair flopped off my back and touched the floor. I closed my eyes, preferring not to look at the upside-down world between my legs. The cool touch of the paddle against my right butt cheek sent a shiver down my spine.

Sean swung the paddle. It struck with a loud pop that set to life a buzz of stinging tingles on my right-side buttock. The unevenness between my cheeks was quickly corrected with a second swat smacking the left-side. My entire butt stung, though not badly enough that I felt the urge to comfort it. Unfortunately, the spanking was far from over.

The paddle seemed to be bouncing from side to side, smacking my bottom with a steady, quick pace. Each swat raised the temperature and increased the stinging. It became increasingly difficult to stay in position. The urge to coddle my butt grew stronger and stronger. My body trembled with the effort required to resist my natural instincts. Somewhere near the thirtieth swat the pain overwhelmed me and tears began spilling from eyes. My breathing turned sharp and shallow.

He laid the last ten with extra force. I cried through them. My mouth hung open gasping for air and my entire focus in life became staying in position until the spanking stopped. It seemed an eternity before the last swat fell. When it did, I stayed down, fingertips pressed into the tops of my shoes, hair bouncing on the ground like a shroud around my hands and feet. My butt burned. Three years and dozens of spankings at the Institute, and still they hurt every time.

“Stand up, hands on head,” said Sean.

I followed instructions. Margaret stood at the counter staring. There were unspilled tears pooled in her eyes. Sweet girl, probably blamed herself. She would learn though. We’re all responsible for our own actions.

Sean said, “You two had best get along to the cafeteria.”

“Yes, Sir,” we both replied.

“And Abigail,” he said, “you’ll miss dinner tonight and stand in the corner instead. Understood?”

I sniffled. “Yes, Sir.”

Rosecliff, Episode 009

Margaret Lange

Mr. Mason, it felt odd calling a teenager mister, instructed Abigail to assist me in getting the uniform on right. It went much smoother with the jumper untwisted and right-side out. The bow tie, a simple ribbon of fabric matching the jumper that buttoned in a cross just in front of the neck, was the most difficult. Mostly because I had never worn anything of the like before. A glance in the wall mirror behind Mr. Mason revealed my appearance as that of a high school student at one of those uppity private institutions where everyone wore identical uniforms.

We proceeded to the front counter. Mr. Mason printed a bill for my initial purchase items and loaned me a pen so that I might write out a check paying for it all. I think I annoyed him by insisting on comparing the bill with the list of items in the white book, but he chose to move on and focus his energies on Miss Abigail.

Mr. Mason retrieved a tablet from beneath the counter and began tapping on the backlit screen. All the while, he wore a stern expression, lips puckered as if sucking on a lemon. Something about his eyes suggested he disliked what he was doing. The way he kept glancing at Miss Abigail, he was angry, but there was more to it than that. He liked her.

She stood off to my left, chewing on her lip and looking at Mr. Mason when he wasn’t looking at her. Her eyes held apology and hope. She cleared her throat, grabbing his attention. Her gaze locked on the floor in front of her feet. “I know I was wrong, but couldn’t you let it pass this time, Sir?”

He focused on the tablet. “This is your third punishment in the last 30 days. Two weeks ago you were caught daydreaming in class and two weeks before that you apparently forgot your manners at the breakfast table. Combine that with the disrespect you showed me and I think it’s pretty safe to say you aren’t exactly setting a good example.”

Her shoulders slumped. Tears welled in her eyes. “Please, Sir. It won’t happen again.”

Mr. Mason nodded. “As a result of your poor behavior of late, the computer recommends a stricter than normal punishment.”

A single tear slid down Abigail’s cheek.

He said, “For the next five days your uniform is restricted to socks and shoes, you will report to the assistant dean in the cafeteria at breakfast for 27 swats of the medium Lexan paddle or the heavy strap , and you will spend the remainder of the breakfast period in corner time. Additionally, your free time privileges are revoked and your status as a monitor is suspended pending a review by Dean Rosecliff.”

The whole thing sounded extremely harsh. Abigail had only been trying to protect me from his leering eyes. Not that he hadn’t already seen everything. Still, in a certain light she was being punished for being nice and that was wrong. But, Mr. Mason had a point as well. She had not addressed him with respect and her suggestion, that his interest in watching me dress and undress was inappropriate, whether true or not, was unwise.

Mr. Mason said, “I’m entitled to give you an equivalent spanking right now. As my most significant available is the small Lexan paddle, the program recommends I add 15 swats to the 27 making a total of 42.”

She gasped and blinked at him in disbelief.

He said, “Strip yourself down to socks and shoes. Place your neatly folded clothes in a stack on the counter and then you can stand facing me with your hands on your head. Any questions, Abigail?”

Rosecliff, Episode 008

Scarlet Watts

The girls gone from the study room, Walter turned his gaze on me. “I’m curious, how exactly would you have handled Britney had it been your choice?”

I looked at the now pushed in chair the girl had bent over. In my thoughts the punishment had been completely ineffective. The girl, Britney, would likely have left the room smiling were it not for the back of her skirt being raised. Her embarrassment would have been much more significant had her panties been missing. A little humbling embarrassment was always a good deterrent against future misdeeds, or so my uncle always claimed. I tended to agree. “Bare bottom for certain.”

“How bare?”

I glanced at him with a raised eyebrow.

He said, “Skirt up, panties down, or skirt up, panties off, or skirt and panties off or totally nude. Or some other combination of clothing alteration?”

I hesitated, thinking over the options. My uncle’s version of bare had usually meant naked below the waist and, on a couple of occasions, completely naked. The lack of tears and emotion from Britney tipped the scales in my mind. “Totally nude.”

Walter nodded. “And what implement would you choose?”

It was a less complicated choice. “A wood paddle.”

“We use Lexan.”

I nodded. It was the modern choice. “I’m sure one of those would do fine.”

“We have a fourteen-inch and an eighteen-inch, which one?” he asked.

My thoughts ran toward the eighteen-inch, but I didn’t want to seem too severe. “The fourteen would be good.”

“How many swats?”

I hesitated, too many and he’d think me a monster and too few would show me to be soft. My uncle was good at making the number of swats connect to the behavior being corrected. Fifteen minutes late and there would be fifteen swats, not acting my age and I’d get twice my age. “How old is the girl?”

“Britney Pearce, 24,” He said.

I nodded. Not pushing in one’s chair was certainly akin to not acting one’s age. “48 swats.”

He asked, “Would you send her to corner time in the cafeteria and if so, for how long and in what state of dress?”

The embarrassment would draw out emotion even if nothing else did. “Yes, I’d send her there naked and let her spend the entire meal in the corner as an example to the rest of the students.”

He nodded. “And at what point would you end her punishment and let her dress?”

My uncle’s punishments had usually ended after breakfast the following morning. One time he grounded me an entire week though. That had been embarrassing, not to mention the soreness of my bottom getting spanked every morning of that week. “Five days,” I said, “repeating the spanking and corner time each day with dinner.”

Walter said, “That sounds quite severe for not pushing her chair in.”

I nodded. “Perhaps, but I think she’d learn the lesson. I mean you’d think after four years here she’d know better than to do something like that.”

Walter nodded. “I think a personal demonstration of such a severe discipline might benefit you.”

I stared at him. Did he mean to suggest disciplining me or was the reference to another girl at Institute who was due to receive a more severe punishment? His expression failed to reveal the meaning further.

He walked toward the exit. “We should proceed to the cafeteria.”

Rosecliff, Episode 007

Abigail Hastings

It’s easy for a Monitor to slip away. The other girls are so busy trying not to be noticed they don’t notice much of anything around them either. I figured it out on my first week as a Monitor and have been taking advantage of it ever since. All I have to do is make sure no teachers are watching and have an excuse already in mind just in case someone does notice. So far, I only needed the excuse once and it worked perfectly. Monitors get the benefit of the doubt.

With everyone hustling off toward the cafeteria for dinner, I snuck away for a quick stop in the Tanzanite Shop. Sean wasn’t at the counter like usual. I moved farther into the store. It sounded quiet, deserted even, but the door would have been locked if no one was inside. Then I spotted him toward the back of the store near the fitting area. He was probably stocking a late shipment. I waved.

He smiled and winked. “Shouldn’t you be on your way to the cafeteria?”

I glanced toward the door. No one around. Still, better safe than sorry. “Study period gave me a headache. I was hoping I could get something for it, Mr. Mason.”

A brunette I had never seen before stepped out from behind the jumper racks. She was struggling with the split front trying to wear it like a pair of suspenders. Her attention was focused on Sean. “Are you sure this is my size, Sir? It doesn’t seem to fit right.”

Sean chuckled, shaking his head at her. “I don’t think size is the problem.”

I walked closer, inserting myself into her view. If I wasn’t going to get some private time with Sean at least I could still make the trip worthwhile. I smiled at her. “You must be the new girl. I’m Abigail Hastings, Tanzanite House Monitor. The rules prefer you call me Miss Abigail.”

She returned my smile and nodded. “Margaret Lange.”

I ran my fingers along the split panels of her jumper, attempting to straighten them into position. Somehow she’d managed to get the whole top part of the jumper inside out. It was impossible to fix with her wearing it. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to take it off so we can straighten it out. It’s twisted in the back making the whole top inside out.”

Her cheeks flushed pink. “I’ve never worn something like this before.”

“It’s alright, I’ll get you fixed up and escort you over to dinner so nobody harasses you for being late.” I glanced toward Sean, still standing there staring and grinning. “Don’t you have something else to do? I’m sure you’ve seen more than enough of Margaret.”

Margaret seemed unconcerned about Sean’s presence. She unfastened the jumper and slipped out of it without a second’s hesitation. The garment fell to the ground and she stepped out of it, bending down to pick it up. It only took her a moment to see the twist and correct it.

Sean said, “Aren’t you forgetting something Abigail?”

I stared at him, he was clearly enjoying the view of Margaret. Of course, I knew he saw other girls undressed, it went with the territory, but ogling one in front of me was totally unacceptable. “Have some decency,” I said, “she’s half naked.”

The grin disappeared. He said, “Apparently you need to be reminded of your place, Abigail. You may be a Monitor, but I am a member of the staff and you’re way out of line suggesting my presence here is inappropriate.” His gaze shifted briefly toward Margaret. “Pay attention Margaret, you’re about to find out what happens to girls who treat members of the staff with disrespect.”

Rosecliff, Episode 006

Scarlet Watts

“Five,” the blonde girl counted. Her voice sounded disturbingly calm considering she was bent over the back of a chair getting spanked.

Carol, the tall slender girl wielding the leather paddle, appeared insufficient to the task. She swung with considerable effort, but the paddle’s impact was continuously flat. It lacked the sharp snap I expected from leather. And the blonde’s reactions were almost nonexistent. Carol’s features expressed a degree of frustration.

I turned toward Walter, he displayed a quiet sense of satisfaction with his hands clasped behind his back. “I thought spankings were generally given on the bare bottom.”

He smiled at me. “I’ve found that by varying the state of dress the Institute can better differentiate between minor and major infractions of the rules.”

“Eight,” the blonde said. Her pale legs remained rigid while the front of her skirt swayed slightly in response to the paddle’s breeze.

I shook my head. “I’m sure failing to push her chair in was a minor infraction, but the girl seems utterly unphased.”

“Ten.” Her voice lacked strain and emotion. She might as well have been a robot.

Walter looked me over as if I were a student. “Would you prefer the girl flailing about and begging for mercy?”

“No, of course not. I just tend to think a spanking should evoke some emotion and perhaps a few tears.”

“Fourteen,” the blonde said. A faint pinkness shined through her panties. The back of her right knee wobbled briefly. She was probably just tired of holding her legs straight.

He said, “As you gain experience you’ll learn that girls have varying levels of tolerance. In this case, Britney has been at the Institute for over four years and her ability to weather chastisement with little outward emotion has developed over that tenure.”

“Eighteen,” said Britney. There might have been the slightest warble in her voice.

“Wouldn’t a heftier implement applied to her bare bottom be more effective?” I asked.

“Twenty.” Her buttocks clenched momentarily. Maybe the spanks were beginning to sting. Then again, she might simply have been stretching her muscles.

Walter smiled. “Naturally, but what would I use to increase the punishment when she does something more serious?”

“I’ve heard a caning can be quite severe.”

Britney said, “Twenty-two.” Her head dropped, mopping the seat of the chair with her long hair and her fingers let go of the edge. There were no signs of tears or excessive discomfort, merely relief that the event was over. No doubt the back of the chair pressing into her tummy hurt more than the leather slapping her panties.

“Punishment,” he said, “need not be severe to be effective.”

I watched Britney right herself and push the chair under the study desk. Carol tucked Britney’s skirt into the waistband ensuring the panties and the pink glow beneath remained visible. Walking around in such a state would no doubt be embarrassing, but I couldn’t help feeling Britney lacked remorse. If she had a bright red bottom, nakedly exposed, and tear stained cheeks, I suspect regret and remorse would have been more readily apparent.

Carol pivoted toward Walter. “Is there anything else, Sir?”

Walter shook his head. “No, you can proceed to dinner.”

Carol flashed a smile and bowed her head. “Thank you, Sir.”

She turned back toward Britney. “Gather your books and march over to the cafeteria. You’ll spend the first thirteen minutes of dinner in the corner.  Is that clear?”

“Yes, Miss Carol.” Britney lifted her materials from the floor, combined them with her things on the study desk and, followed by Carol, briskly walked from the room, her white panties still plainly displayed.