Monday, June 21, 2010

The Spanking Chronicles of Cedar Lake: A Stairwell Surprise

The blinds were closed. In the corner, the gaudy brass floor lamp was turned off. Light flickered in from the swaying gaps between the slats of the blind. It twinkled in the dresser mirror, flashing in my eyes like sparks of a painful memory. I laid on the bed, curled on my side with the plushness of my sleeping pillow pressed against my naked chest. The door shook with the rumble of a knock from the hall.
“Go away,” I said in a whisper meant for no one’s ears.
Cold fluorescent light invaded my room along with the unwelcome knocker. His rubber soled shoes squeaked against the floor. I envisioned black scuff marks on my polished floor, but the door swayed closed eliminating the light before my eyes could adjust to see the proof. He squeaked his way across the room to the window and turned the wand, flooding my brooding darkness with late afternoon sunlight. Shielding my eyes, I propped myself up on an elbow.
I said, “What do you think you are doing?”
The smirk on his face was answer enough. His invading gaze walked its way up my body from my curled toes to my propped head. My cheeks blossomed with heated embarrassment. His smile widened in response to my coloring cheeks, forcing me to look away. I held the pillow tighter and sank back down onto my bed. He pulled my desk chair to the center of the open floor and sat backwards on it, resting his chin on the back of the chair. In his hands he held a small notepad and a disposable pen with a well chewed end.
“I’m Scott Ellis, editor of the school paper,” he said.
I said, “If I didn’t already know that, I would have tossed you out the window already.”
“Then you no doubt already know why I am here and what I am doing,” he said.
“Living up to your reputation,” I said.
He ginned and said, “I prefer to think of it as doing my job.”
I said, “Call it potting soil, compost, or fertilizer, it’s still all shit to me.”
“And you’re in it up to your neck,” he said.
If only that were literally true. In such a case, Scott Ellis would have no interest in me and neither would anyone else. I could slip away into darkness to be forgotten and although the smell would be unwelcome company, it would be more welcome than Scott’s attention. It would be more tolerable than his wandering eyes and insufferable smugness. Unfortunately, the only thing up to my neck was my pillow and it fell far short of stretching down to my toes.
I said, “If your visit has a point, please get to it. If not, I’m sure you know the way out.”
“There is no call to be rude,” he said.
“And yet you entered my room without invitation,” I said.
“You invited me when you chose to break the rules,” he said.
I said, “I am being tolerant.”
He snorted and said, “You’re being dismissive and rude.”
“Because you have no respect for my privacy,” I said.
“Bad girls are not entitled to privacy, Miss Trudeau and you are a very, bad girl,” he said.
His eyes knowingly shifted from my face to the curvature of my hips and the bulge of my buttock. I shuddered as if his hand had touched the irritated skin, reawakening the sting of the Dean’s leather strap. Previously, the glowing warmth had settled to a dullness. I had drifted into the numbness of afterglow, allowing the embarrassment and discomfort to lift away from my dampened spirit. Scott’s intrusion could have come at no worse a moment, but he could not have known.
“Is it true, Miss Trudeau?” Scott asked, putting pen to notepad. “Was it you in the stairwell with Dylan O'Neil?”
Without moving, I said, “Yes.”
We, Dylan and I, had expected to be alone. It was the lunch hour and we had hung back, taking our time leaving class as the rest of our classmates sprinted for the exits. Even still, we had been cautious, entering the stairwell at different times. Dylan had even climbed higher and lower to ensure our solitude before cornering me on the second level landing.
I had giggled, my heart racing at the echo of it in the contained space. Dylan’s smile engulfed me with a recklessness I rarely indulge. His wandering hands found their way to cup my breast and buttock while his moist lips tickled my neck. I laid my hands on his stiff shoulders and nibbled at his neck until he pushed me harder into the wall. He thrust his tongue into me, greedily drinking passion and leaving me wanting more. I ran my fingers down his chest and his fingers found their way inside my blouse, teasing my nipple with a pinch. My eyes fluttered closed and neither of us noticed the echo of a slamming door.
Scott asked, “Who was it that discovered the two of you?”
“I’m sure you already know,” I said.
“I’m a journalists, I need to verify my facts,” Scott said.
Rolling my eyes, I said, “Professor Warner.”
Scott asked, “Is it true he—
“Yes,” I replied and Scott grinned with yellow feathers hanging from his sparkling teeth.
Professor Warner had been responsible for the slamming door. If we had been even fractionally aware of our surrounding, Dylan and I might have escaped, but we were too engrossed in each other. My blouse was pulled completely open and untucked from my skirt. He had slipped my bra down below my breasts, his hungry teeth nibbling on my exposed nipples. I was fumbling with the buckle on his belt and all the while, Professor Warner descended the stairs from above us. His footsteps should have rang like an alarm, but they thudded in concert with the blood rushing through my ears and the pounding in my chest.
Upon seeing us Professor Warner had asked, “What do you think you are doing?”
My eyes had flickered wide open. I was staring straight at Professor Warner and he was staring straight back. If not for Dylan between us, I would have been nakedly exposed to the Professor’s judging gaze. My hands ceased in their efforts, but Dylan continued to maul at me, licking and nibbling as if we were still alone. Trying to capture Dylan’s attention, I cleared my throat and pushed his head up and away from my bosom.
Annoyed, Dylan had said, “Relax Lilly and you, whoever you are, pecker off. This isn’t a peep show.”
Professor Warner slipped his hand inside the back of Dylan’s collar. He yanked back and Dylan went flying from me, to land face to face with the Professor. It was only then he realized we were in deep trouble. Professor Warner kept his typical stoic expression as he levied his gaze on Dylan. I frantically attempted to right my disheveled clothing and restore some sense of decency to my situation. Professor Warner would have none of it though.
“Keep them exposed Trudeau,” Professor Warner had said, shaking a finger at my breasts. “Obviously you have no problem showing them off in public so you can show them off all the way to the Dean’s office.”
I held my bra stretched in front of my breasts in protest and said, “But, Sir.”
“Would you prefer to strip completely?” Professor Warner asked.
“No, Sir,” I said.
“Then I suggest you reconsider your objection,” Professor Warner said.
Tucking my bra back beneath my breasts, I said, “Yes, Sir. Sorry, Sir.”
We had been in a building on the outskirts of the campus. The journey to the Dean’s office was a long and embarrassing one. Although we could have routed through another building, Professor Warner insured we took the path intersecting with the cafeteria and passing alongside the lake. At the lunch hour, these were the busiest places on campus. My classmates unabashedly pointed and snickered as we made our way through the crowds. I pinched myself twice, hoping I would awaken in my bed, finding the whole thing to be nothing more than a nightmare.
Scott said, “That must have been embarrassing.”
Glaring at him from behind my pillow, I said, “Like you care.”
“Oh, but I do,” Scott said, “I happen to believe the more embarrassed you are, the less likely you will be to repeat your crime.”
“Making out is not a crime,” I said.
Scott said, “Perhaps not in the world at large, but you should be aware, if not before then certainly now, it is against Cedar Lake’s rules.”
“Whatever,” I said.
“It’s not whatever,” Scott said, “It’s why you are being punished.”
“So I’ve heard,” I said.
“I don’t like your attitude,” Scott said, frowning at me. “Maybe you should stand for the remainder of this interview.”
“Excuse me?” I said, blinking at his audacity.
“You heard me, stand up,” Scott said.
I wanted to tell him where he could go. His smugness was almost to much to handle. If he was not granted the extensive powers of his editorial office, I would certainly have sent him packing. Unfortunately he has those powers, which means he can pretty much do any thing he wants and discipline girls like me are stuck complying with his every perverted and insane request. I slipped my feet off the bed and stood, holding my pillow smashed against me.
“Happy now?” I asked.
Scott shook his head and said, “Put the pillow on the bed where it belongs and place your hands behind your head.”
I took a deep breath to avoid swearing at him and tossed the pillow back onto my bed. Glaring straight into his eyes, I lifted my arms into the air and smartly folded my hands together behind my head. There was nothing I could do about the red glare emanating from my ashamed cheeks, but I was not going to make it easy for him to stare at me without knowing I was looking right back at him. Most boys would have had the good sense to look elsewhere, but not Scott, his gaze locked on my naked breasts before drifting even lower.
“Now, where were we?” Scott asked.
I said, “You were about to leave.”
Scott chuckled and said, “That’s right, I was thinking it would be fun for us to finish this in the cafeteria. Are you ready to go?”
“Just ask your questions and leave me in peace,” I said.
“What, you don’t want to have dinner with me?” Scott said. “I’m insulted.”
“Come on Scott,” I said. “Don’t be mean.”
“I’ll make a deal with you,” Scott said sporting a devious grin. “Tell me what happened inside the Dean’s office and I won’t make you sit with me.”
“Fine,” I said. “What do you want to know?”
“Well, Dylan was parked against a wall outside the Dean’s office and you were led in with Professor Warner. What happened after that?” he said.
“The Dean took out his strap,” I said, suppressing a shudder at the memory.
Scott said, “I’m sure there was something said before that.”
I shuffled on my feet, hating Scott’s wander gaze and said, “Professor Warner explained to the Dean what he saw.”
“And what did he see?” Scott asked.
“Dylan with his mouth and hands all over me and my clothing adjusted for easy access,” I said.
Scott asked, “What did the Dean have to say?”
“He wanted to know if Dylan was attacking me. I told him it was consensual,” I said.
“And then what happened?” Scott asked.
“I was lectured about the rules and why they exist,” I said.
“Naturally,” Scott said, nodding for me to continue.
I said, “The Dean ordered me to strip to my undergarments. Professor Warner objected, he felt total nudity was more appropriate given that my breasts were already exposed.”
“The Dean agreed?” Scott asked.
I nodded and said, “The Dean revised his instruction, ordering me to strip naked.”
“That’s when the strap came out,” Scott said.
“Yes,” I said. “I was instructed to touch my toes in the center of his office and he gave me 25 with the strap.”
Scott asked, “Did you stay in position for all of them?”
“I tried,” I said.
“Meaning you didn’t,” Scott said.
I nodded and said, “I jumped up twice. My butt felt like it was on fire and the Dean’s relentless in his pace. I don’t know how anyone could stay down for all that. It really hurt, bad.”
“It’s supposed to hurt,” Scott said. “Were you hopping around, holding your bottom or just jumping up and down?”
“I don’t know,” I said.
Scott smiled and said, “Show me then.”
“What?” I said, blushing to my toes at the thought of making a further fool of myself.
“We could finish this in the cafeteria, if you prefer,” Scott said.
“No,” I said and began jumping up and down.
Continuing to bounce on the balls of my feet, I grabbed my bottom and said, “Please, no more. Please Sir, I’m so sorry.”
“I’m sure the Dean appreciated your apology, but I am equally sure your punishment continued,” Scott said.
I nodded my head, still bouncing up and down. “Can I stop now?” I asked.
Scott waited an insufferable period before finally saying, “Alright, but hands back behind your head and you stay standing.”
Back in position, I said, “That was pretty much it.”
Scott asked, “What about your clothes?”
I  said, “After the 25 licks, the Dean said I had lost the privilege of my uniform for the next three days.”
Scott finished scribbling in his notepad and said, “All done. Now was that so difficult?”
I shook my head and said, “No.”
“I don’t know about you,” Scott said, “but I’m starved.”
I said, “I’m not really hungry.”
“That’s too bad. You can still keep me company though,” Scott said.
Blinking at him, I said, “But you said if I answered your questions I wouldn’t have to go to dinner with you.”
Scott grinned and said, “I said you wouldn’t have to sit with me and I meant it. You can stand just like you are right now, except right next to my table of course. Now stop pouting and come along or I’ll use your hairbrush to give you a proper reason to pout.”


♠ace of spades said...

Great story. I know I haven't commented much recently on your posts but I do keep up with them and they are always a joy to read.

Telling this story after the fact instead of live was a nice touch. I also read the Cedar Lake pdf from lulu and was very impressed. It's a great setting and I hope you continue to revisit it. Scott Ellis has become my new hero. :)

AL said...


Fantastic story, Awesome title,
These stories are coming out very well. Lilly is funny,and an all around great character. Now Scott umm I will say he does make a good opposite to Lilly.
Thanks for the story
AL :)

Karl Friedrich Gauss said...

Are you making up the school rules as you go along, or did you write them up in advance? Enquiring minds...

Certainly an engaging story. I see at this school they want to get the most social impact from each and every punishment, or at least that's how it looks.

Paul said...

Ash, always happy to read a story of yours.
Unlike Ace, I don't find Scott a hero at all, rather an anti-hero.
Wouldn't it be something if he found himself the central figure in a General Assembly and one of his past victims filling his post.
Would it stretch you to write a M/m discipline scene, or even a few F/m scenes?
Great story Ash, thank you.
Warm hugs,

Ashley J said...

Ace, It's nice to hear from you again. I didn't think you had totally disappeared. My guess was you were just busy or not inspired into commenting which both can happen. Thanks for jumping in and I'm pleased you enjoyed Cedar Lake. Scott Ellis is a great villain to me, but I'm not surprised some see him as a hero.

Al, Lilly feels a little incomplete as of this moment. I think we have another tale or two for her to tell before she's done.

Karl, I did not write a rule book, although I was tempted to do so. These stories and their setting (Cedar Lake) are well outlined in advance, meaning I know the rules and policies of Cedar Lake as if I had their handbook in my lap. Part of their style is definitely making the punishment process public, it also creating an environment where peers are as much a part of the pressure to follow the rules as the staff.

Paul, I can't say I won't ever write a M/M or F/M scene, but in most circumstances they are less appealing to me. (As a joke on a friend I actually did write a M/M scene into this story between Prof. Warner and Dylan. It was deleted from the posted version.)I might make an exception for Scott Ellis at some point down the road, but I think he has a few more days as a villainous reporter left in him.


Karl Friedrich Gauss said...

Apparently the Rev. Jim Jones used public spankings as punishment for his commune followers who got out of line. This was well before they all moved to Guyana and drank the Kool-Aid.

Of course it's hard to know how much of Jones' social experiment was his own inspiration and how much was CIA inspired.

Ashley J said...

Karl, I can't say I've heard that about Jones before. I thought his punishments were mostly sexual abuse, sodomizing men, etc.

In creating Cedar Lake and similar stories I do my best to avoid religion, mostly because it always seems to tarnish everything it touches. Religious based corporal punishment stories always feel a bit creepy to me, perhaps because real life has often been populated with zealots who claim religious ideals for every cruel thing they do.

I like to think of a story as an escape from the real world and all its troubles. Cedar Lake is meant to be a fun environment where the rules run to the extremes but the caretakers always stay on the right side of the boundaries. Of course that line between good, clean fun, and distasteful, abuse of power exists in different places for different people.