Rosecliff, Episode 012

Margaret Lange

Ms. Watts said, “I, uh, I don’t think a demonstration is really necessary.”

Her words were obviously meant for Dean Rosecliff, but the stage microphone broadcast them for everyone to hear. A hushed silence fell over the cafeteria. Everyone stared at the stage and the relatively young teacher standing next to Dean Rosecliff. It was a captivating scene. I even momentarily forgot about the uncomfortableness of the cafeteria’s wood chair and the effect it had on my spanked bottom.

Dean Rosecliff turned from the crowd, staring at Ms. Watts. “It is quite necessary and unavoidable. If you read your contract, you should be aware that corporal punishment can and will be used whenever I feel it will benefit your performance.”

Ms. Watts took a step back from the Dean. Her legs trembled. He gripped, firmly it appeared, her arm and pulled her back. She stumbled and regained her balance. A blush colored her otherwise pale cheeks. The panic in her eyes suggested she would liked to have pulled free of his grasp and ran from the stage. Maybe it was the Dean’s air of authority, I certainly wouldn’t have fought with him, or maybe it was her own pride, but whatever it was, she didn’t resist him.

He let go of her arm and turned back to the cafeteria. “Ms. Watts believes a minor punishment should last for five days and that the girl should be nude. She believes the fourteen inch paddle is sufficient and that it should be used to deliver 48 swats each evening before dinner, after which she thinks the girl should spend the entire dinner meal in corner time.” His head swiveled in Ms. Watts’ direction. “Is that correct?”

Ms. Watts seemed to be staring at the stage beneath her feet. “Mostly.”

Dean Rosecliff raised an eyebrow. “Mostly? What part is incorrect?”

Her cheeks glowed brighter. She cleared her throat. “The number of swats was derived from doubling the age.”

The Dean nodded. “I see. Well, I believe that would up the swats to 56 for you.”

Her nod of affirmation was barely perceptible. Only a couple of hours earlier I received 25 swats with the same paddle and that was certainly more than enough. I could hardly imagine getting more than twice that, especially knowing that everyone at Rosecliff Institute was watching. I barely knew anything about Ms. Watts, we arrived at Rosecliff together, but her demeanor toward me had been far from friendly. No matter, I did not wish such a punishment on her or anyone else.

The Dean stepped back from the front edge of the stage, turning his whole body in Ms. Watts’ direction. “Scarlet,” he said, his voice emphasizing the use of her first name, “remove all your clothing and place them in a neat pile against the back wall. When you are finished you will stand front and center stage, hands on head, facing the cafeteria. I will return shortly with the paddle and I expect to find you thus or might just add a few more days. Am I understood?”

Ms. Watts face burned red. “Yes, Sir.”