Monday, November 19, 2012

Rosecliff, Episode 040

Margaret Lange

I’ve come to realize that life is full of choices that are simultaneously wrong and right. My father called these moments the choosing of the lesser of evils. For him it was typically about elections, selecting the politician who was the less dishonest, the one who was less bribed by the lobbied interest of the creme de la creme of society. Of course there was no true evil in those choices. The men and women who choose a life in public service may not always make the best judgments, stand behind the best policies, but I doubt any of them ever desire the annihilation of our society, of our way of life. They promote that which they believe is the best course for the future and sometimes their beliefs are right and sometimes their beliefs are wrong. That’s the truth which is too often ignored. Right and wrong are not often choices between good and evil, but rather a course followed because of what we believe.
Jocelyn believed it was wrong to withhold a meal just because someone broke a rule. I was inclined to agree, but the leadership of Rosecliff had the opposite view. What was right to us was wrong to them and viceversa. In making these kinds of choices we reveal not only what we believe, but the fiber of our character. And that’s because not everyone will stand up for what they believe. In a place like Rosecliff, I didn’t expect to find many who would have the backbone. After all, the choice which landed me within their walls was made in complete opposition of everything I believed. The fiber of my character was more flexible than I cared to admit.
Natalie, our roommate, was spanked at breakfast. Mr. Boggs did the deed with the medium lexan paddle, on the stage, in clear view of the entirety of Rosecliff’s assembled students, teachers and staff. The swats were hard. Eye-clenching. Ear-wrenching. Back-shuddering. I felt them in my bones. Natalie’s trembling voice echoed in the cafeteria as she counted the swats. I watched the event, not because I desired to increase her shame, her embarrassment, but rather because I wanted to lend her strength and courage. As it drew to an end I wondered if this was why the administration chose to so often spank in the cafeteria. Did sharing in the experience, punish us all? Did it make us more or less likely to take up that place on center-stage?
In that moment, I began to understand that the inevitability of spankings at Rosecliff was not so much a factor of the strict rules as it was a matter of my own resolve to retain something of who I was before I came through the gates. I think all the girls of Rosecliff shared in this flaw and it was only toward the end of their stay that any learned-- realized, that they no longer wanted or needed to be the person they once were.
Jocelyn saved a strip of bacon and half her biscuit, slipping it inside the front V of her jumper. The folds of fabric hid the bulge well enough that only a thorough inspection would note its presence. I tossed aside my fears of getting caught and ending up like Natalie or worse and copied my new friend. Her heart was in the right place and it was time I started making a stand for the things in which I believed.
After breakfast, we rendezvoused with Natalie in an unoccupied corner of the hallway just off the main course toward the classrooms. Natalie hugged us both before wolfing down the food. A few girls cast us curious glances at they walked by, but we were careful. Nothing was obvious and the passersby most likely thought we were consoling our roommate. And in a way, that was true. Food can be a great a comfort when you weren’t supposed to get any.
Everything went according to plan until I was sitting in Mrs. Rosecliff’s classroom and the Dean’s assistant walked in the door without so much as a knock. She whispered in Mrs. Rosecliff’s ear. They both turned and looked at me.
Mrs. Rosecliff said, “Margaret, the Dean will see you in his office immediately.”
I actually smiled. Getting caught doing what I thought was the right thing, wasn’t the worst thing that could happen. At least I had a reason and just maybe, someone might listen before bending me over for my second spanking since arriving. I rose to my feet. “Yes, Mrs. Rosecliff.”

Friday, November 16, 2012

Rosecliff, Episode 039

Britney Pearce

Mr. Boggs said, “Stand here.”
I moved to the position against the office wall, looking toward the open space. Carol stood in the open space. She had removed her uniform. It was neatly folded and sitting on top of the desk. Mr. Boggs had made her fold each piece exactly as if she were putting away her laundry and for each mistake, there have been two, she had to put the garment back on, take it off and try again. The action seemed ruthless.
He opened a cabinet behind the desk and retrieved the medium sized lexan paddle. It cast a temporary reflection of me in it as he turned it toward Carol’s backside. She couldn’t see his approach, but the shiver that ran down her spine told me she knew he was coming. He touched the clear paddle against her buttocks.
“Touch your toes,” he said.
She widened her stance an extra couple of inches and bent forward. Her butt seemed to be pushing itself higher into the air and firmer against the paddle. She closed her eyes rather than looked at me through her parted legs. I wished I had the same luxury, but Mr. Boggs had already made it clear he expected me to watch.
He looked back toward me. “Pay attention, Britney. A monitor must learn how to deliver a good spanking if she’s to gain the respect of her peers.”
“Yes, Sir,” I replied. It was probably unnecessary, but I felt certain that a single mistake in my behavior while in the office would result in me assuming the same position as Carol. I preferred watching to participating.
He raised the paddle, not so much up into the air as back away from her butt. When he swung, the paddle cut through the air with a whir and the impact echoed like a hammer driving home a nail. The flesh of butt was squished, flattened underneath the paddle. And when it pulled back, her butt bounced while the skin colored with flush of hot blood.
The strain in Carol’s voice explained how much it hurt. “One, Sir.”
He delivered another fifteen swats in the exact same manner. Carol’s breathing turned ragged and I could see tears slipping from behind her eyelids by the sixth of them. Her voice quivered and broke and she even sobbed a bit on the last two. Her butt turned darker and darker, the skin glistening under the paddle’s relentless attack. I watched it all, blinking at each impact, but reopening my eyes in an instant. It might have been fear of getting caught, but also on some level I did want Carol to learn her lesson about bullying, abusing the power of her position. Getting spanked was part of life at Rosecliff and we all accepted that, but it went down easier when we knew it was by a fair interpretation of the rules that we were being punished.
Mr. Boggs turned back toward me and motioned me forward. “It’s your turn.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Sir?”
He put the paddle in my hand and stepped away from Carol. “Aim for the center of her buttocks and swing with control, not power.”
I hefted the paddle in my hand, it’s balance felt awkward, heavy toward the tip. It took me a moment to find a comfortable grip. I aimed it against her butt and looked at Mr. Boggs. It seemed unreal that he wanted me to paddle her.
He nodded. “Give her between five and ten swats. It’s your choice.”
With Mr. Boggs choice was a pseudonym for test. If I gave her too few, he’d consider it a failure and if I gave too many he’d consider it just as bad. Finding the balance between right and wrong or in this case deserved and undeserved was the point of the exercise.
I decided on eight. It felt incredible to deliver them. The slight rattle of the paddle on impact was like a buzz of approval in my palm. Hearing Carol count and politely call me, Miss while a faint sob strained her voice felt a lot like justice. Maybe being a monitor wasn’t such a bad thing. I could make things fair, hold my peers accountable for the wrong deeds they’d done.
After the last swat, I held the paddle at my side and reached out toward her naked, quivering butt. It felt hot, not quite the same burning Carol likely felt from the inside, but warm to touch like she’d stood too close to a fire. And that was the truth in a certain light.
“Well done,” Mr. Boggs said. “Escort Carol upstairs and have her move her things into your room and your things into her former room.”
I handed the paddle back to Mr. Boggs. “Yes, Sir.” I grabbed Carol’s arm. “Come along Carol, you’ve got work to do.”

Thursday, November 15, 2012

Rosecliff, Episode 038

Margaret Lange

I sat at a small table with Jocelyn during evening free time. She had decided from the start we would be friends, I had no objection, and from that point on we were together more than we were apart. Class time accounted for the most of our separation. I was enduring the indoctrination courses, being taught the essentials of life from the ground up as if arrival at the institute had not only stripped me of my dignity but of all knowledge beyond the rudimentary skills of breathing and communication. Jocelyn had progressed beyond those core classes and was enjoying a taste of real education. One of the highly touted benefits of choosing Rosecliff was the ability to gain a college degree in a variety of fields.
Jocelyn’s most endearing quality was her simple ability to fill the silence that might otherwise drive me insane. She said, “So there we were, sitting in Mr. Gunther’s class, you know the math teacher. We’re taking Advanced Algebra, I passed it in high school, but I guess I didn’t do so well on the placement exam, but I don’t test well and maybe I was a little nervous because math like isn’t my favorite subject and while I passed it in high school, I only barely passed it so I guess it’s OK that I’ve got to take it again. But anyway so there we were, Natalie and I and like twenty other girls, most of them I’ve only seen in the cafeteria at meal times cause I don’t think they live in Tanzanite, but of course they are part of Rosecliff and must live in the other houses but I don’t know which ones cause I don’t really know them and hadn’t really paid that much attention before. I’ll have to see if I can figure it out this week during meals.”
I nodded. Stories were never straight forward from Jocelyn, but that didn’t really matter. I just liked listening to her talk. “That will give us something to do.”
“Yeah,” Jocelyn said. “Well me, because you can’t find them cause you don’t know who they are or what they look like cause you aren’t in the class, but I guess you can help me keep track as figure it out. So where was I? Oh yeah, Natalie. So like we’re sitting there in Mr. Gunther’s class and she’s like hardly sitting still. Have you ever notice Natalie can’t ever seem to sit still. It’s like she always has to be doing something with her hands or tapping her feet. Do you think it’s like a disorder or something? Maybe she needs to be medicated. I don’t know. But anyway, she like pulls out her notebook and pencil and starts doodling in it. Can you believe it? Doodling in class? Like where does she think we are, in high school? This is like well, you know the expletive, starts with an F, rhymes with mucking, Rosecliff.”
“Right,” I nodded. My gaze had left Jocelyn in favor of watching Miss Watts. Someone had apparently left the new teacher in charge for the evening and she was enjoying herself at the expense Ms. Chambers, who was definitely not enjoying anything. It still rattled me that the teachers and staff were disciplined along with the students. And Ms. Chambers was being disciplined for something. She was naked, her buttocks were a shiny red that almost looked like she’d had them oiled as well as spanked. I doubted that was the case though. Miss Watts was standing over Ms. Chambers, who was literally down on her hands and knees, scrubbing at the tile floor with a toothbrush.
It seemed Miss Watts found the manner of Ms. Chambers floor scrubbing to be insufficient to the task. She was clearly enjoying the opportunity to make Ms. Chambers repeat her work. And of course, in Rosecliff style, Miss Watts was utilizing a paddle to drive home her dissatisfaction. Three swats every time she told her to clean a spot over. I did feel sorry for Ms. Chambers, but I also recalled Ms. Chambers putting Miss Watts into embarrassing positions in the corner. Perhaps this was just a fair turn of events. I imagine my judgment on the matter fails to account for the full scope of events and choosing compassion for one over the other was probably unwise. Still, I found on a gut level I empathized with Ms. Chambers.
Jocelyn continued with her story. “Well of course, Mr. Gunther noticed. He was none too happy either. Grabbed the lexan paddle handing on the wall by the door and called Natalie right on up to the front of class. She was super nervous. I don’t blame her a bit. I’d have been scared stiff, but I wouldn’t have been doodling in the first place. I mean really, who does something that stupid in class? Natalie, of course. Not that Natalie is dumb. She’s not. I like her. She’s been a roommate since I got here and we’re friends, but still that was like really not a good idea. Anyway, Mr. Gunther stripped her right down to her socks and shoes. And I mean he seriously did it. He wouldn’t let her undress herself. He took her clothes off piece by piece and totally humiliated her, turning her every which way so he and the whole class saw everything. I was blushing for her and so was like half the class and I think I said before, most of them we don’t even know. And then he paddled her, touching toes. I think it was like twenty-two swats and she has to walk around in just socks and shoes until bedtime tomorrow. That definitely s--mucks. She’s going to get paddled at breakfast too and that means no food for her until lunch tomorrow. Do you think I should sneak her some breakfast in the morning? I know I’d like it if I was in her shoes if someone did that for me. But if I get caught it could be like really bad for me. What do you think? Should I?”
I turned my attention back to Jocelyn and shrugged. “If you think you can do it without getting both of you into more trouble, sure.”
Jocelyn smiled. “I knew I liked you.”

Wednesday, November 14, 2012

Rosecliff, Episode 037

Britney Pearce

Carol was already standing beside the door when I arrived. She had taken the time to restyle her hair into a neat ponytail and she’d smartly washed the small amount of makeup from her face. It was a perk allowed to students after their second year, but it was never really encouraged and under some circumstances, teachers would use it against you. I’d never really gone down that path, it cost money from our allowance to purchase makeup and I’d always found better uses for the funds, like trips into town.
“What,” asked Carol, “are you doing here?”
I stood against the wall beside her. “Mr. Boggs asked me here the same as you.”
“Oh,” she said.
It seemed the possibility that he might discipline us both had never crossed her thoughts before that moment. For me, it had plagued my mind the entire study period and throughout dinner. He obviously disapproved of my silence on Carol’s minor abuses of power. It was difficult to say which rule he thought I violated in that act though. In fact, lodging a complaint seemed more against the rules, in the form of resisting discipline, than keeping silent. If I’ve learned anything during my stay at Rosecliff, it’s that when someone on staff wants to discipline you, they’ll find a way.
Mr. Boggs arrived with keys in hand. He unlocked the door and motioned us inside. Behind us, he closed the door and relocked it. The lights flickered on, overhead fluorescents humming to life with dim light that gradually brightened. Carol and I stood in front of the desk, hands at our sides, backs straight.
He sat in the chair behind the desk, rustled a few papers as if the placement on the desktop was more important than the two of us standing before him. When the desk was neat and orderly, he finally looked up at us.
“Carol,” he said, “why are you here?”
She blinked at him. “You asked me to come.”
His gaze narrowed on her. “And why would I do such a thing? You’re a monitor and I am head of this house, do we not have better things to be doing with our time?”
Carol’s shoulders slumped, not to the point of drooping, but enough that she looked shorter. “I was running.”
He maintained his harsh stare into her face. “I think you continue to miss the point.”
“I don’t understand, Sir,” she said.
“Of that I’m a certain,” he said. “however, by the time you go to sleep tonight, I’m quite certain you will understand.” He turned his gaze on me. “Why are you here Britney?”
I realized the question could have multiple answers, anything from the immediate circumstances to the events that led me to be incarcerated at Rosecliff. And that realization led to another. “Because I’ve made a habit of making poor choices, Sir.”
He smiled and nodded. “Now, that’s precisely the mature sort of answer I’d expect from a pair of girls who have been here as long as you two. Between the two of you, I can safely say I know which I would choose to continue as a monitor for this house.”
It occurred to me that he might be under the mistaken impression, as many of my peers with less time at Rosecliff often were, that I was a monitor. The post was not something I had ever desired and I had in fact turned down the offer from Ms. Chambers on two previous occasions. “I’m not a monitor, Sir.”
“I’m aware of that, Britney,” he said. “As of tonight, that is going to change.” His gaze turned on Carol. “We have here a student who has abused her authority and been caught running on campus.” His gaze turned back on me. “You’re going to discipline her for that and take over her responsibilities as monitor.”
A single look into his dark eyes convinced me there was no arguing with his decision. As of that moment, I was a monitor.

Tuesday, November 13, 2012

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.”

Monday, November 12, 2012

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.

Friday, November 9, 2012

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.


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.

Thursday, November 8, 2012

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.”

Wednesday, November 7, 2012

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.

Tuesday, November 6, 2012

Rosecliff, Episode 032

Margaret Lange

Things were going pretty smooth. I had managed to avoid getting spanked since my initiation into Rosecliff and that initial spanking seemed quite unavoidable. It crossed my thoughts to suggest I hadn’t done anything to deserve it even, but of course the people running Rosecliff would not agree. In their eyes every girl who walks through their front door has done plenty to deserve a solid spanking. I bet they even consider making it a daily ritual for some of the more hardcore girls. Then again, they consider me hardcore though prior to the supposed incident that landed me here, I’d never been in any sort of legal trouble. Sometimes I think the system is designed to punish those who spend their lives living within the rules and make a single mistake more than it punishes those who break the rules every day.
So anyway, I was showered, dressed and had just finished making my bed when Miss Abigail entered. She smiled at me like we were old friends which was nice. I still felt bad about the trouble she had with the shopkeeper, Mr. Mason. She joined me beside the bed and looked at it. I shrugged. She hid her laughter behind a fake fit of coughing. I blushed.
Miss Abigail said, “That’s got to be the worst made bed I’ve ever seen. I mean I’ve seen unmade beds with less wrinkles.”
I nodded, looking at it. “My mom gave up on trying to teach me years ago.”
Miss Abigail shook her head. “That won’t do here.”
I offered her a weak smile. It wasn’t like I hadn’t known the day was coming. Everyone else made the kind of beds you could bounce quarters off of and if you threw one at mine, you’d probably lose it inside a wrinkle. And of course, life at Rosecliff was meant to include regular doses of corporal punishment. That I’d gone nearly a week without any was certainly a miracle. Unfortunately, it was a miracle soon to be corrected.
That was when Jocelyn returned from the showers, dripping wet and wearing nothing more than her towel and a pair of flip flops. “Don’t be mean, Ms. Abi. She’s still new and has lots to learn. Ain’t that right, Mags? I’ve been teaching her stuff all week, but haven’t quite made it to the bed thing yet. Pathetic I know.” She took a breath, shaking her head at the sight of my bed. Then, she whistled. “That’s the worst it has looked all week. I swear. Just don’t be mean, Ms. Abi. We’ll get her all straightened around. Promise.”
Miss Abigail rolled her eyes while her back was still turned on Jocelyn. She pivoted and sighed, planting her hands on her hips. “It’s Miss Abigail, not Abi and I don’t think I’m ever mean.”
Jocelyn smiled. She dropped her towel on the floor and started dressing. “Sorry, Miss Abigail. I like you and so I use a nickname cause I always use nicknames for folks I like. And I know you ain’t mean. If you were mean, I’d probably get spanked for just talking to you cause we all know I talk too much and say stuff I should probably never say. But anyway, like I was saying, Mags there just needs to be taught, I ain’t had the opportunity to teach her quite yet. If you gonna spank anybody over it, it should probably be me. But you ain’t mean. So you’ll let me teach her, right? Nobody got touch their toes today, right?”
Miss Abigail shook her laughing, this time without bothering to disguise it. “Alright, alright. You can teach her and I won’t punish anyone, this time.”
Jocelyn pulled her socks into place and stepped into shoes, finishing getting dressed. “You’re the best, Miss Abi.”
Miss Abigail said, “It is Miss Abigail.” She wagged a finger at the two of us. “If it looks like this tomorrow, I’ll spank you both and you know what that means for the rest of day if I do.”
Jocelyn nodded. “Yes, Miss Abigail.”
The next fifteen minutes consisted of a rapidfire instruction on how to make my bed from Jocelyn. It would have never sunk in, but she helped me do it step by step while she explained and the really amazing part was it looked good when we were done. Of course the real test will be tomorrow morning when I try to do it myself all over again. Time will tell, but I doubt my luck against spankings will hold out much longer. It just goes against the grain of a place like Rosecliff.

Monday, November 5, 2012

Rosecliff, Episode 031

Abigail Hastings

Mrs. Chambers disrobed with efficiency. Her pace lacked unnecessary pauses, her hands remained steady and certain as she folded, more neatly and quickly than I was capable, and she made no attempt to shield her privates from view. She stood next to me, hands on her head, same as me, and it seemed as if we were no different. Equals.
Dean Rosecliff pretended to remain busy with his datapad, but I caught his glances in our direction. He hummed to himself, holding device up in the viewspace between us as if it were some sort of shield. The clock ticked off seconds and the minute hand moved forward with a thunk. He liked the waiting. I could see it in his eyes, in the dispassionate passion that held sharpened his cheeks and chin into the appearance of the stern, disapproving master he wanted us to see.
The datapad slipped from his hand and clattered on the desktop. His dark eyes drank in Ms. Chambers’ nudity, unabashedly staring at her legs, vagina, and breasts. “Katherine,” he said, “for the next five days you will be disciplined. You will at no time during these five days wear any clothing, makeup or jewelry, beyond your House ring and each morning during the normal breakfast meal, you will receive a spanking with my heaviest Lexan paddle consisting of 28 swats. After the morning spanking you will remain on the stage for the entirety of the breakfast period with your spanked bottom on display to all faculty, staff and students. Further, your position as the head of Tanzanite House is suspended until the Monday following the end of this disciplinary period. Mr. Boggs will assume the responsibilities of leading Tanzanite House in the meantime and he will assign you alternate duties during the periods of your schedule typically reserved for House matters.”
I detected a sharp breath from Ms. Chambers at the mention of Mr. Boggs, but she gaze no other outward signs of her thoughts. She said, “Yes, Dean Rosecliff.”
He stood and moved to the implement cabinet. The doors squeaked open and he removed the large Lexan paddle by the handle. He closed the cabinet. His body pivoted back toward us and his gaze fixed on me. “Abigail,” he said and pointed toward the corner next to the office door, “stand over there, facing the desk. I want you to see this and know it is happening in part due to your poor behavior.”
“Yes, Sir,” I replied and walked into the corner.
“Katherine,” he said, “step forward and bend over the desk.”
She took two steps forward. Her thighs pressed against the front edge of desk. She lowered her hands from head and leaned forward at the same time, stretching her upper body over the desk. Her hands went past the far edge and gripped it fully, easily. She was tall enough that her entire upper half hung in the air above the desktop rather than resting on it.
Dean Rosecliff stepped up behind her and laid the clear paddle across her pale buttocks. The wide blade covered the majority of her butt from just above the center all the way down to the tops of her thighs. It extended past the right edge of her butt as well. He adjusted his grip and stance for comfort. His arm drew the paddle away from her butt, hovered it for two ticks of the clock and brought it crashing down on her fleshy cheeks.
“One, Sir,” said Ms. Chambers.
I watched as Dean Rosecliff pulled the paddle back and a warm pink rectangle rose to the surface of her butt, marking the impact zone. He swung again, almost casual, lazy in tempo, but the contact rattled my bones like a hammer striking concrete. Ms. Chambers winced. Her butt bounced in and out, coloring a shade darker. He hovered the paddle in the open space behind her, impatiently waiting for her count.
“Two, Sir,” she said. Her voice quivered. She was on the verge of tears and crying.
He whisked the paddle forward. I blinked at the boom. The pink grew brighter. She counted. He swung. And so it continued for 28 swats. Her butt was a trembling bright red, so hot I swear I could feel the warmth from across the room. She stood, hands back on her head, at his command. A steady stream of tears ran down her cheeks.
Dean Rosecliff turned his gaze on me. “Abigail, your discipline is concluded as of morning bell tomorrow. You will resume your duties as Monitor, but make no mistake, any more incidents of this nature and you will no longer be a Monitor. Understood?”
I nodded. “Yes, Sir.”
“Dismissed,” he said.
I turned toward the door and opened it.
He said, “Katherine, you can spend the next hour facing the wall outside my office.”
I left feeling sorry for Ms. Chambers, not to mention feeling guilty. Of course, she was probably going to use her knowledge of Sean and I against me and that didn’t seem very pleasant. I figured I had better warn him though, cause Ms. Chambers was not likely to be in a very good mood for a while and that could definitely be bad news for us.