Rosecliff, Episode 036

Scarlet Watts

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.

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.

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.

He asked, “Do you have plans for the evening?”

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.

A small smile crept the corners of his lips upward. “Excellent. I’m in need of your assistance.”

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?”

“You are familiar with Katherine and her current troubles?” he asked.

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.”

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.”

“I see.” Curiosity demanded I ask the obvious and I could tell he was merely waiting for the question. I asked, “Which student?”

He smiled, “It matters not. They’re all bad apples and unworthy of such risk.”

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?”

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.

Gary said, “I need you to watch over the common room tonight while I deal with a situation in the House office.”

It sounded simple enough. “I can do that.”

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.”

I smiled. An opportunity for revenge was not something I had expected so soon. “I think I can manage that.”

He nodded as we climbed the steps. “I thought you might.”

Rosecliff, Episode 035

Abigail Hastings

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.

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.

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.”

Dana offered an apologetic smile. “Sorry Miss Abigail. Gillian needed help with her grammar exercises.”

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.”

“Miss Abigail,” objected Dana.

I silenced her before she got us both in too deep. “Don’t make matters worse by fighting a mild spanking, Dana.”

She frowned at me. “Yes, Miss Abigail.”

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.

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.

“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?”

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.”

“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.

Dana shivered, but wisely kept her mouth shut.

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.

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.

LOL 7 & A Glimpse at Conflict of Interest

Year after year, Bonnie over on My Bottom Smarts, 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.

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 wonderful 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 get back together -oops- I mean, be traced back to them.

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.

Hugs,
Ashley

In other news, since I’m not actually posting a Rosecliff Episode today, I thought I’d mention a project that is nearing completion and will be available in the near future. It’s called Conflict of Interest and with the exception of Quest Five 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.

Rosecliff, Episode 034

Britney Pearce

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.

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.

She said, “You’ve been running.”

I raised an eyebrow. “I have not, Miss Carol.”

“Why else would I have had to run to catch up with you?” she asked.

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.

“I left before you,” I said.

She stared into my eyes, confident in her superiority. “Don’t get smart.”

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.

“We both know I wasn’t running.”

Miss Carol raised up on her toes, giving herself a downward vantage into my eyes. “Are you calling me a liar?”

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.

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.”

Carol stammered. “I-I-I was only trying to catch up.”

He nodded. “We’ll discuss this more fully after dinner in my office.”

She lowered her gaze, though her eyes were wide open. Her fingers twitched at her sides. “Yes, Sir.”

He pointed ahead toward Tanzanite House. “Move along. If I’m not mistaken you’re late for study time.”

“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.

Mr. Boggs turned his attention on me. “Why haven’t you reported Carol for bullying?”

“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?

“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?”

“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.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.” He lifted my chin with a finger.

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.”

He nodded, apparently pleased with my response. “I want to see you in my office after dinner as well.”

Rosecliff, Episode 033

Scarlet Watts

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.

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.

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.

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.”

Mr. Boggs pushed on the bridge of his glasses with his index finger though they were already solidly in place. “That does sound unacceptable.”

I stepped toward him. “Unacceptable? It’s either intentional or a clear sign of a learning disability. Is Lindsay Owens learning disabled?”

Mr. Boggs lips formed a thin smile. “Not that I am aware of.”

“That leaves intentional,” I said, planting my hands firmly on my hips. “Certainly you would agree that discipline is called for?”

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.”

I twisted and snapped my fingers at her. “Quiet girl. I wasn’t talking to you and I didn’t ask for your explanation.”

She wisely lowered her eyes. “Sorry, Miss.”

Mr. Boggs said, “I’ll approve a disciplinary action if that is your choice, Miss Watts.”

I looked back at him and nodded in respect. “Thank you, Mr. Boggs. I do indeed choose.”

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.

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?”

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.”

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; Miss Watts is not to be fooled with.