Rosecliff, Episode 018

Britney Pearce

Riley yanked his faded black t-shirt over his head and tossed it aside onto the floor. It was a simple, haphazard gesture done with a casualness that no longer felt familiar. Years ago, living in the safety and comfort of my parents’ home, I too had strewn my clothes across the bedroom floor without a care in the world. The sight of it, not just his toned and tan skin, but the free thoughtless action of cluttering the floor, brought a smile to my lips. Rosecliff did not allow such things.

I unfastened my bow tie and held it between my fingers over the floor before deliberately letting it go and watching it flutter delicately onto the floor at the foot of his bed. It felt wrong in all the right ways. I shrugged out of the shoulder straps of my jumper, unzipped the skirt and let it all fall to the floor. My fingers quickly unbuttoned my white blouse and I discarded it atop the bow tie.

He unbuckled his belt, popped the button on his jeans, unzipped them, pushed them down his legs and kicked them off, all the while keeping his eyes on me. I stepped out of my shoes and yanked my socks off, one at a time. He walked to me, took my shoulders gently in his hands and pressed his lips against mine. I reached for him, but he turned me away, guiding me by my shoulders. With my back to him, he brushed my hair aside, kissed my neck and slipped his fingers lower. He unfastened my bra, pushed it from my shoulders and I let it fall to the floor. His arms pulled me back into him, his bare chest pressed against my bare back. I felt his warm breath tickling my neck and ear. His hands roamed freely over my flesh, caressing, fondling. I leaned my head back onto his shoulder and kissed his jawline. He kissed my lips, grabbed me firmly and tossed me onto his bed.

I smiled up at him looming over me. Precious moments, tender moments, these were the things Rosecliff stole. And here, just months before my scheduled release, I stole a little bit back. The risk probably wasn’t worth it, but I didn’t care. Riley made me feel alive. He gave me hope for a future where no one would care that I spent five years at Rosecliff.

Riley crawled on top of me, besmearing my legs, thighs, stomach and breasts with little kisses. His weight pressed against me, pinning me to the covers. I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him down, thrusting myself upward. His stiffness pressed against me, teasing me with inconsistent pressure. He pinched my nipples with his teeth, holding me down as I moaned. I grabbed at his butt, strained my neck, pushing my head up, hungry lips seeks his. He thrust himself into me, over and over. I strained against him, warm tingles spread across my body, euphoria washed over me. He shuddered and collapsed on me, breathing heavily. I held him to me like a blanket.

I glanced at his alarm clock. Ten minutes until the rendezvous. I pushed him off me, pounded my fist on the wall at the head of his bed. “Paula, we got to go!” I rolled off the bed grabbed my clothes from the floor and pulled them on fast.

Riley sat on the edge of the bed, watching me with a bemused smile on his lips. “When will I see you again?”

“Never if I’m late,” I said.

He shook his head. “You won’t be late. Seriously, when do you get another free afternoon?”

“Two weeks, if I stay out of trouble,” I said, heading out his bedroom door.

Paula Jenkins met me at the front door of the apartment. She was still fixing her bow tie in place and her jumper’s shoulder straps still dangled from her waist. I helped her get the final touches in place. We were bunkmates and our boyfriends were roommates. It was a convenient setup, as long as we didn’t get caught.

She said, “We’ll have to run.”

I glanced at the clock. “All but the last block. We can walk the last.”

Rosecliff, Episode 017

Abigail Hastings

The shrill bellow of Mr. Oneal’s whistle captured every girl’s attention on the grass field. It was a relief for me, wearing not but white socks and athletic shoes, standing in front of the collected gathering of Tanzanite House for the morning exercise ritual. I suppose Ms. Watts felt much the same, standing on the opposite side of Mr. Oneal from me and wearing absolutely nothing. At Rosecliff, the only privacy a girl gets when naked, or nearly naked, is when something or someone else is drawing more attention. In this case, the attention was divided between Mr. Oneal and the relatively new girl, Emily Sargeant.

She arrived a little more than three months prior. 17 years old and convicted of theft. Her adjustment has been painfully slow. She considers herself a victim and has yet to accept responsibility for her situation. It’s not that unusual for new girls, I spent my first six months blaming every last one of my friends and family for my predicament. I doubt I’ll ever see any of those friends again and as for family, well I think they’ve mostly disowned me. My repeated letters of apology and admission of guilt as well acceptance of personal responsibility have all gone unanswered. But that’s the reality, apologies don’t undo the things we’ve done. Someday, Emily will understand too.

Mr. Oneal fixed his glare on her, freezing her in place only steps past the gate. “You’re late.”

She trembled. Her hands brushed at the blonde hair hanging around her shoulders. Tears glistened in her blue eyes. Her voice squeaked. “Less than a minute.”

He planted his hands on his hips. “Do you have an excuse or are you simply incapable of walking the hundred yards from Tanzanite House to the field in less than ten minutes?”

Tears bubbled out of her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

He snapped his fingers and pointed at the grass directly in front of his feet. “Get over here.” Not waiting for her to so much as blink, he turned and picked up his datapad from seat of the blue plastic chair behind him. He used his finger to punch in the relevant data while Emily slogged her way across the field. “Do you see Miss Abigail?” he snapped his fingers again and pointed at me.

Emily wiped tears from her cheeks and look in my direction. “Yes, Sir.”

He said, “You’re going to be her twin for the day. Face your housemates and strip down.”

More tears spilled and a sob racked her large chest. “Please, Sir.”

He snapped his fingers and pointed at the assemble mass of Tanzanite girls. All eyes were locked on Emily. Some found the situation amusing, others found it frightening and still others feared if they looked elsewhere they might have misfortune of joining Emily and myself in our starkly embarrassing uniform, if you can call socks and shoes a uniform. Three years had toughened my skin, but the humbling effect of being naked never quite diminished.

Emily turned toward the girls, though I doubt she really faced them. The sports bra, shorts and panties of her exercise kit were quickly yanked off and laid in a folded pile on the grass. Her crying continued to shake her entire body, wobbling her ample flesh. Naked, she stood there, shoulder slumped, head low and hair hanging in front of breasts, waiting.

Mr. Oneal unhooked the leather tawse from his belt and positioned himself to use it on Emily. “Back straight, hands on top of your head, elbows pointing left and right, feet shoulders width apart.”

“Yes, Sir.” Emily cried harder, but she obeyed his every command.

He tapped the tawse against her tense buttocks. “One way or another I’m going to whip you into shape, Emily. 24 now, you can have another 20 at lunch and skip the meal, I’m sure you can afford to, and then you will run an 8 minute mile for before dinner or you’ll receive another 20 at dinner and miss that meal as well. Is that understood, Emily?”

She sniffled loudly, attempting to hold back another wave of sobs. “Yes, Sir.”

He raised the tawse and slapped it hard across the center of her butt. Two red stripes instantly appeared. She yelped, wiggled her butt and counted the stroke aloud. He swung the tawse again, striking just below the first two stripes. Her legs kicked up like a soldier marching in place while she cried out. She counted the stroke. He brought the strap down over the original two stripes. She cried and counted. He kept swinging, alternating between middle and lower half of her butt while she kept crying, wriggling, kicking and counting. 24 strokes later, her butt glowed a hot, shiny red.

Then we all got our morning exercise.

Rosecliff, Episode 016

Margaret Lange

My first night crept slowly. In jail, I had mostly enjoyed a solitary cell where the only sound had been the slow pacing of the guard outside in the corridor. Sharing a room with five other girls was new. The breathing and snoring were not unexpected, but I had not been prepared for the youngest girl, 18 year old Emily Sargeant, to cry herself to sleep. I stopped crying myself to sleep after they told me Brian had died. In fact, that’s when I stopped sleeping.

Sunlight sprinkled in through the windows. I watched the digital clock between the two windows until the time read 06:00 and the overhead speaker crackled alive with the ear-piercing shriek of a ringing bell. Everyone sat straight up in bed, clasping their hands over their ears, everyone that is except me. I rested my head on the pillow until the speaker shut off.

The girl above me jumped down onto the floor. She rushed into the water closet, taking first turn at the toilet. The other girls formed a line. I decided to get dressed for the morning exercise, which I’d read in my booklet was unavoidable. Besides, my last drink was at dinner. It had seemed a wise idea when I figured out I was sharing one toilet in the morning with five other girls. I was dressed and tying my shoelaces, sitting on my bed, when my bunkmate re-emerged.

She slapped a hand on my shoulder. “You’re Margaret, I’m Jocelyn and we’re bunkmates. I’m guessing you either got up early or you’ve got a bladder of steel, but either way I can tell you’re smart cause you’ve already figured out what to wear. That’s the great thing about being at Rosecliff, back home I could never figure out what to wear in the morning. I’d try on like fifteen outfits everyday before I left my room. Here, it’s all decided. I’m blabbering aren’t I? I do that, just tell me to shut up if I’m going too long. So, tell me, did you really kill your boyfriend and five police officers? I mean that’s like hardcore, girl and you don’t look like a killer, but I guess that’s why they call girls like you femme fatales. Right?” She stared at me for a moment. “You aren’t deaf are you?”

I smiled at her. She reminded me of an old friend. “I wasn’t deaf, but ever since the clock struck six I’ve had this ringing in my ears.”

Jocelyn wiped the back of her hand across her brow as if wiping away sweat. “Whew. You had me worried for a minute there. Don’t mind the ringing, that is pretty much a constant around here. Most of us cover our ears when the damn thing goes off. Oops. I shouldn’t have said damn. Ms. Chambers doesn’t like swearing and she thinks damn is a swear word. I never heard of anyone thinking damn was a swear word before coming here. How about you?”

I shook my head. “How long have you been here?”

Jocelyn turned away from and opened up the bottom drawer on her chest of drawers. “Just over a year. In fact, yesterday was my one year anniversary. Somebody should have gotten me a gift. I mean I should have at least had some cake after dinner. If I wasn’t saving for one of those graphic calculators I would have, but I start trigonometry on Monday and they say I have to have one of those calculators. If you don’t have one they give you one and if you don’t have enough money in your account to pay for it, they really make you pay for it. If you know what I mean. Of course you don’t know, I mean you just got here. So what I mean is they blister your bare backside and keep on blistering it until you earn enough allowance to pay for it which for something like a graphic calculator could be a long time. I much prefer my butt blister free. Oops. There I go again. Ms. Chambers says butt is a bad word too, but I guess it’s not a bad word when she demands we bare our butts, but then double standards from adults is something I’m used to. That’s just life, eh Margaret?”

I got up and started making my bed. It was definitely going to be the hardest thing to get used to for me. Neatness was never my thing and getting sheets perfectly flat with perfect corners was something I thought only magicians and maids were capable of doing. It occurred to me that I would simply have to become one or the other. Magician sounded like the better choice cause if got good enough maybe I could just open a doorway that led me right out of the nightmare my life had become.

Jocelyn said, “Don’t bother with that now. We’ve got to get over to the field. Mr. Oneal doesn’t like girls being tardy and you don’t want to be disliked by Mr. Oneal. Besides we got plenty of time to make our beds, clean the room and even shower after exercise. If you need to use the toilet you better do it, otherwise we’d better get going. They don’t allow running around here. Well they do allow it out on the track and if you’ve been bad, Mr. Oneal will make you run in place, but that’s not what I meant. Hallway running, indoor running, you know, the kind of running your mother probably told you not to do, that’s the kind they don’t allow. You do have a mother don’t you? I read someplace that girls who kill people usually didn’t have mothers. Is that true?”

Somehow Jocelyn had managed to get completely dressed while talking a mile a minute. It was impressive. I almost laughed. The line to the bathroom was still three girls long. I didn’t have the immediate need and exercise period was only meant to last 45 minutes. The bathroom could wait. “Let’s go,” I said.

We left the room together, Jocelyn leading the way.

Rosecliff, Episode 015

Scarlet Watts

The lights dimmed. In the same moment, the entire atmosphere in the common room changed. The hushed conversations ceased, replaced by the rustling noises associated with the girls putting away their evening’s recreation. From the corner of my eye, I spied Katherine Chambers shutting off the television. Less than a minute later, the soft pitter-patter of girls ascending the stairs echoed in the emptiness of the common room. I remained, nose to the wall and hands on head, in the corner. Thinking I was finally alone, the temptation to turn from the corner grew strong, almost irresistible.

The sound of Katherine’s voice startled me. “I’m impressed,” she said, “most newbies require extra motivation to keep proper position throughout their first extended corner time.”

It was hardly my first extended period of corner time. My uncle felt a red bottom should be displayed as long as it glowed or at least until bedtime. Things weren’t always that bad, but often enough that I’d learned to keep position for as long as he demanded it. His paddle had easily persuaded me the benefits of obedience far outweighed the pangs of discomfort it might cause. I considered thanking her for the compliment, but my evening’s humiliating stand in the corner had been solely her own idea. It was dishonest to suggest I was grateful.

“Hmm, silence,” Katherine said. “Perhaps you’d like to spend the night contemplating your sore backside and the reason for it. I can make the arrangements, though I dare say most of our girls find it quite uncomfortable and chilling.” She laughed. “What do you say Scarlet, a night on the perch or would you prefer a bed?”

I stared at the corner. My uncle had sometimes gave me choices. He often liked giving me the opposite of my choice, unless of course it was the choice he wanted. It was possible Katherine shared his twisted sense of humor. However, the strict discipline was the reason I chose Rosecliff Institute in the first place. “I’d prefer a bed, but I’m well aware my preferences on the matter are irrelevant.”

“Turn around,” Katherine said. She was smiling. “You should do just fine here. Let’s get you to your apartment.” She pivoted and walked toward the door marked, Staff Only.

I followed and walked through the door as she held it open. It led into a hallway with a staircase at the far end. On either side of the walkway, spaced equidistantly along the length, were a total of six doors. The walls were painted white, the doors were painted blue. We stopped in front of the second door on the left. Black numbers identified it as 104.

Katherine unlocked the door, pushed it open and handed me the key. “Here we are.”

I stepped inside. She followed. The apartment lights were brighter than those in the hall. Directly in front of us, my luggage was stacked in a small collection at the edge of the living room. The room was furnished with a beige couch, a matching armchair with footstool, and an oval, cherry stained coffee table. I walked past the luggage and stood beside the armchair, feeling the soft, plush fabric. Looking around I noticed a furnished dining room, small kitchen and a staircase leading down. I looked at Katherine. “It’s bigger than I expected.”

She nodded. Her hand gestured toward my luggage. “Your personal things are here, but per the conditions of your current punishment you are not permitted to dress. If you feel the presence of your clothing might be too much of a temptation I can wait while you unpack and then lock your closet and drawers. When Dean Rosecliff signs off on your discipline’s completion, I will unlock them. The choice is yours, but if you are caught wearing anything, the consequences will be added to your existing punishment.”

I looked at my luggage. Unpacking was the last thing I wanted to do. “I think I can resist any temptation.”

Katherine nodded and took a single step backward, toward the door. “I realize you’re new and haven’t had a chance to fully absorb the policies here, but while you’re undergoing discipline you are expected to address your superiors in the same respectful manner as our students address us all. As I am the House Mother you should call me Miss or Ms. Chambers, as you prefer. Understood?”

I blinked at her. “Yes, Ms. Chambers.”

Rosecliff, Episode 014

Abigail Hastings

Ms. Scarlet Watts stood, hands on head, in the corner. Her bright red butt displayed the effects of Dean Rosecliff’s spanking for all the girls of Tanzanite House gathered in the common room. Ms. Chambers had turned on the television for the evening relaxation time, but I don’t think any of the girls watched it. Games, socializing, whispering about the day’s events were all far more entertaining. It’s not often for one day to see both a teacher and a monitor punished and stripped to their bare skin for days to come.

At 9:15PM, Ms. Chambers stepped in front of the television and softly rang her dainty handbell. When all the girls were silent and attentive, she stopped ringing the bell and said, “Margaret Lange, Mr. Mason has finished collecting your order and it is ready to be taken up to your room.”

Margaret had spent the entire evening standing against the wall. She nodded her head in Ms. Chambers direction and said, “Yes, Miss.”

Ms. Chambers looked to the rest of us. “Is there anyone who would like to volunteer to assist Margaret?”

An excuse to see Sean and get out of the common room early? I raised my hand without a second’s reservation. “I will, Miss.”

Ms. Chambers nodded her approval.

Margaret and I moved to the back of the common room and entered the shop. Sean waited behind his counter, smiling. He looked cute in his smugness, especially those piercing green eyes. I could melt staring into those eyes. It didn’t even bother me that he couldn’t ever seem to comb his hair. The tangled mess of blond hair was just him.

He tapped the top of the white laundry basket sitting on the counter. It was filled with most of Margaret’s supplies. “Between this and the hamper, I’ve collected all your supplies for easy transport. You just need to sign for them and take them up to your room.”

Margaret stepped up to the counter and signed his datapad with the plastic pen. “Thank you, Sir,” she said laying down the pen and taking hold of the basket. Her gaze twisted toward me, “Can you take the hamper?”

I nodded. “Easy. You’re in 310, right?”

“That’s it,” she said.

Sean looked at Margaret. “Run along up to your room, I need a moment of Abigail’s time before she leaves.”

Margaret looked hesitantly in my direction, but I gave her my best reassuring smile. She lifted the loaded laundry basket and left the shop. I watched the door close behind her.

Sean walked out from behind the counter, heading toward the back of the shop. “This way, Abi.”

I followed him to the back wall of the shop. He leaned against the wall, casually looking over my naked body. I moved closer until he held a hand up, signaling me to stop. My heart thudded. His eyes roved. He stepped forward, both hands moving toward my naked breasts. His fingertips tickled and then firmly pinched my nipples. He pulled me toward him.

“You’ve been a naughty girl,” he whispered, his sweet breath washing over my face.

I slipped my arms behind him and grasped his muscular shoulders, pulling us together. Our lips brushed, touched, kissed. All the bad things slipped away. His fingers moved from my nipples, threading their way into my hair and caressing my head. The world spun and everything the Rosecliff Institute was supposed to be faded from existence. It was only a moment, but it was a perfect moment.

He pulled his lips away. “I didn’t want to punish you.”

I smiled into his eyes and shrugged. “It’s Rosecliff, we do what we have to do.”

He nodded. “You better go. Someone will get suspicious if you’re in here too long.”

I snuck a final kiss before turning. We walked back to the front of the shop. I collected the hamper and he escorted me to the door. As I walked out, his hand slapped my tender butt, sending ripples of tingles throughout my body. Anyone who saw would call it discipline, I call it love.