Rosecliff, Episode 023

Britney Pearce

“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.

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.

“Ms. Rutherford?” I asked in a hushed voice.

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.”

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.

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.

Kate shrugged. “It wouldn’t be the first time Amy exaggerated, but you got admit it has credence given Ms. Rutherford’s absence.”

“She could just be running late,” I said.

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?”

I straightened in my chair, facing the front of the classroom without meeting Ms. Rutherford’s intimidating gaze. “Yes, Miss.”

“You’ve been here four years and counting, correct?” she asked.

“Yes, Miss.” I could have broken it down into hours and minutes for her, but the details seemed unimportant.

“I would think you’d have learned the rules by now,” she said.

“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.”

Ms. Rutherford rolled her eyes at me. “You were talking. The only question is who else was talking with you?”

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.

Kate cleared her throat. “It was me Ms. Rutherford. I started the conversation. Britney was only answering my question.”

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.”

Rosecliff, Episode 022

Abigail Hastings

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.

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.

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.”

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.

“Yes, Miss,” I said.

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.”

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.”

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.

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.”

The first swat was anything but light. My right butt cheek stung like mad. “One,” I said.

Amused, Ms. Chambers said, “No need to count Abigail. You’ll get whatever it takes, nothing more, nothing less.”

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.

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.

Rosecliff, Episode 021

Scarlet Watts

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.

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.

“Abigail, Scarlett,” Miss Chambers said, “thank you for coming.”

Abigail shifted her gaze to meet Miss Chambers’. “It’s always a pleasure, Miss.”

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.”

She smiled as if she heard falseness in my tone. “When girls in trouble are called in here, the experience is never pleasurable.”

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.”

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.”

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.”

“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.”

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.

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?”

“Yes, Miss,” I said.

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.”

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.

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?”

I stared at her stocking clad legs, upside down through my naked legs. Carefully controlling my breathing, I said, “Yes, Miss.”

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?”

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.”

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.

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.”

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?”

I closed my eyes. The hot pain ached for attention like an itch needing to be scratched. “Yes, Miss.”

Rosecliff, Episode 020

Margaret Lange

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.

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.

His voice was unusually deep. “Margaret Lange?”

I breathed deeply, suppressing panic. “Y-yes, Sir.”

“Welcome to our group,” he said. “I’m Mr. Boggs.” He looked around the rest of the circle. “Take your seat ladies.”

I moved forward, circling toward the front of the chair I had selected.

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.”

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.”

Several girls snickered.

Mr. Boggs said, “While that answer is truthful, it’s not exactly honest, is it Margaret?”

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.

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.”

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.”

Some of the girls nodded. A couple groaned.

Mr. Boggs said, “Go on.”

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.”

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.

Mr. Boggs said, “Thank you, Margaret. I’m sure that was very painful for you. Please sit down and join us.”

Rosecliff, Episode 019

Scarlet Watts

“Fifty-four,” I counted, struggling to keep my fingertips in contact with the tops of my toes. My naked butt burned under the clear paddle’s relentless assault. The cafeteria was silent beyond the echoing claps of my spanking and the sounds of my own sniffling. I could only see the back wall and the floor of the stage, but I could feel the gazes of the assembled girls prickling the bare flesh of my back.

Walter...Dean Rosecliff held nothing back, swinging the paddle again with the intensity of his purpose. The clap rattled in my ears. I sucked in air. My butt bounced. Hot, stinging ripples washed over my body. More tears spilled from my eyes, running down into my hairline. I just wanted the spanking to end, though I knew the discomfort would remain with me well into the night.

“Fifty-five,” I said.

He delivered the final swat. My entire body trembled in a failed effort to suppress a sob. It was humiliating to be broken down into a snotty, sobbing, red-bottomed little girl in front of so many witnesses. If not for the all-consuming fire emanating from my butt, I might have pondered the implications of being so vulnerable in front of the students. Instead, my thoughts remained singularly focused on the spanking and the related pain it caused.

“Fifty-six,” I said.

Dean Rosecliff tapped the paddle against my hot bottom with enough force that it felt like another six light swats being delivered. “Stand straight, hands on head.”

I collected strength, breathing in and out slowly.

He struck my butt with more force. “Now, Scarlet or would you like another fifty-six swats?”

I straightened and folded my hands together atop my head. Tears flowed down my cheeks as I stared out into the crowded cafeteria. The room at large seemed less interested in my presence than the previous evening. Most girls were eating the dinner, casting only sporadic glances toward the stage. The girls who were staring at me, were in fact in no better a situation than me, standing at their tables, hands on their heads and in various stages of nudity. The probably found comfort in seeing me, exposed and discipline as if I were one of them. I, however, found no comfort in the companionship, only shame. Of course, I should have at least realized that while they were being punished for misdeeds, I was only being disciplined for the purpose of an example and understanding.

It seemed much longer than the forty-five minutes it was, standing there until the end of dinner time. I watched the girls put away their plates and exit the room. When all were gone and only staff remained, cleaning, Ms. Chambers finally came to the stage. She grasped hold of my elbow and led me toward the exit, not giving me position to lower my hands.

She said, “I finished reviewing the lesson plans you submitted.”

I glanced at her as we stopped in front of the door leading outside. “And?” I asked.

She opened the door and led me out into the cold night air. My nipples hardened and goosebumps decorated my flesh. I shivered. Her hand slapped my throbbing butt.

“I expect to be addressed with respect,” Ms. Chambers said.

I rolled my eyes. The woman was an irritant. “Yes, Miss Chambers.”

She stopped walking and pivoted herself directly in front of me. “I’m the head of Tanzanite House and your direct supervisor.” She glared into my eyes. “If I need to remind you again, it will be done with a hefty strap at breakfast in front of all those girls. Am I understood or do you require a demonstration in the morning?”

Trepidation beat in my chest. I lowered my gaze. “You’re understood, Miss Chambers.”

“Good,” she said and pivoted back to my side, walking along the path toward Tanzanite House again. “I have tentatively approved your lesson plans, though I wish to discuss some of them with you in more detail.”

I nodded. “Thank you, Miss.” The formal address tasted bitter. “I can discuss them with you whenever you want.”

“Tomorrow,” she said. “after we get you trained in the use of the leather paddle and strap.”

“What time, Miss?” I asked.

“In the morning at nine,” she said.

We reached the front doors of Tanzanite House. She opened the door and led me inside. At the edge of the common room she stopped. She pointed toward the far corner, beside the television. “Like last night, you will spend the remainder of the evening in the corner, only tonight you’ll face the room.”

I stared at her.

She smiled. “I’m the head of this house and when a member of staff gets themselves in enough trouble that they must walk around campus in the buff, I find it appropriate that I add my own discipline to their punishment. Don’t you think that’s wise?”

I took a deep breath. “Yes, Miss.”

She slapped my butt a half dozen time with her hand, attracting the attention of the girls relaxing in the common room. “Off to the corner, Scarlet. And don’t let me catch you staring at the floor or the ceiling. You look at the girls in the room or I’ll consider you in need of a breakfast lesson in respect. Got it?”

“Yes, Miss,” I said and proceeded into the common room. My back pressed into the corner, I watched the girls watching me. And I blushed the whole evening.