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.