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.

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.

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.

Rosecliff, Episode 030

Scarlet Watts

“Scarlet Watts, I presume,” the man said as he entered my classroom.

My back was initially toward him, but I quickly turned. The fact that I remained completely without clothing was not entirely lost on me, but as the days have past I have become more tolerant of the situation. Attempting to hide my charms from anyone was a fruitless gesture and it would be rude not to face a person in conversation.

The man was bald and wore gold-rimmed spectacles that gave him the appearance of a numbers man. I was instantly reminded of an IRS accountant, the sort who reveled in his puny role of authority, stretching it beyond all bounds, in an effort to make those he considered more fortunate than himself squirm and sweat. The mustache hanging over his lip suggested he was a Southern man. His eyes looked me over quickly, though his gaze lingered around my pelvis before fixating on my breasts.

I walked toward him. “I am, and you are?”

His head dipped a moment and finally his eyes discovered my neck and face. “Gary Boggs, House Counsellor.”

I stopped at arms distance, mindful to keep my arms at my sides. “Are you here to discuss my feelings about being disciplined?”

He chuckled. “Actually,” he said and raised the laptop held under his left arm, “I was hoping you might be able to restore some lost files for me, but if you’d like to talk about your feelings, I’m told I’m a pretty good listener.”

I blushed, making assumptions has long been a flaw of mine. Someday I’ll learn to patiently hold my tongue and wait for people to reveal their intentions on their own. “What sort of files did you lose and how did you lose them?”

He walked to the nearest student desk and sat the computer on top. “Session notes from last month’s Sunday sessions. I’m not really sure how they got lost, they were in the proper folder yesterday, but today they are gone.” He opened the computer  and turned it on.

“Did you try searching for them?” I asked.

He chuckled harder. “If I hadn’t searched for them, how would I know they’re missing?”

I rolled my eyes. “Not the kind of searching I meant, but never mind.” I sat in student chair and began examining his directory structure and file naming habits.

He said, “I’m guessing by the way you take those spankings at dinner, you grew up getting paddled from time to time.”

I brought up the directory search and started the computer looking for his lost files. “Not so much. My Uncle was quite fond of the paddle though.”

He nodded. “And what about you? Was he fond of you?”

“Only when I did as I was told, otherwise he was just fond of that paddle,” I said.

Gary laughed. “How many times would say your Uncle spanked you?”

“Enough,” I said. His files were found, residing in a folder titled, Tanzanite House. “I found your lost files. Shall I put them in the appropriate folder for you or would you like me to show you how to do it yourself?”

He waved a dismissive hand in the air. “Go ahead and move them please. I’m sure if I have additional troubles you’ll be able to help me again.”

I dragged the files to their proper home and closed the computer. “Was there anything else?”

He shook his head and picked up his laptop. “I’m all good, thank you. However, if you’d like to talk about things, your punishments here or in the past from your Uncle, my door is always open to you.”

I watched him walk out the door. He was definitely a strange man and I seriously doubted his files had ever been lost. Like many things at Rosecliff, our encounter was likely a test. The question to which I had no definitive answer was whether or not I was passing.

Rosecliff, Episode 029

Abigail Hastings

I had known the moment was coming from the instant Sean had declared his intention to discipline me. Fore knowledge did nothing to dissuade the butterflies swarming in my midsection, nor did it ease the sweatiness of my palms while I stood outside Dean Rosecliff’s office. His secretary- ah- assistant, mostly ignored me. I’d like to think I was an unusual sight, wearing only socks and shoes, but I guess naked and mostly naked girls are a common occurrence around the Dean’s office. Fortunately, the Dean was having a busy day. Meaning he only left me waiting as long as it took for him to clear his desk of whatever issue he was dealing with prior to our scheduled appointment. Ms. Chambers escorted me inside, where I stood hands on head in front of the desk.

Dean Rosecliff remained comfortably seated behind his desk. He gestured toward an open chair to the side of his desk while looking at Ms. Chambers. “Please, make yourself comfortable.” His gaze turned toward me while Ms. Chambers settled into the chair. “I can’t say I’m surprised we’re having this conversation, but I am disappointed, Abigail.”

I looked him in the eye for sincerity’s sake and hoped he didn’t read it as defiance. “I am sorry, Sir. I could have handled the situation much better.”

He raised a furry eyebrow. “The situation? How is disrespecting a member of this institute’s staff a ‘situation’?”

The question required a delicate answer. If I said too much, Sean would face repercussions, possibly even lose his job. On the other hand, if I failed to communicate a reasonable reason for my actions, and my actions were reasonable, I would lose my position as a Monitor. Neither of those outcomes appealed to me. I said, “I only intended to assist the new girl, Margaret.”

Ms. Chambers asked, “How exactly did disrespecting Mr. Mason assist Margaret?”

I couldn’t very well tell them he was leering. The facts needed finessing if I was going to successfully minimize the repercussions. I took a deep breath. “I felt Mr. Mason was teasing Margaret. She was having difficulty getting her jumper on correctly and he was doing nothing to help. I interceded with the intention of helping her, but my words to Mr. Mason were poorly chosen and gave the false impression I was accusing him of something inappropriate.”

Dean Rosecliff said, “Mr. Mason’s job is to operate the Tanzanite House Store, not to teach young ladies how to dress.”

I nodded. “I understand that, Sir. He was in the vicinity of Margaret and watching her. I realize he had no obligation to interfere or offer assistance and it was quite unreasonable of me to criticize him.”

Ms. Chambers looked at Dean Rosecliff. “I think she has learned her lesson.”

He pursed his lips. “Abigail has a long history of disrespecting authority. I told you initially I felt she was a poor choice for Monitor and this incident has only strengthened my conviction. I believe it would be best if you replaced her with a more suitable candidate such as Britney Pearce or Amy Graham.”

Ms. Chambers shook her head. “I don’t trust Amy and Britney has refused the Monitor position on two different occasions. Whatever Abigail’s issues with authority, she has repeatedly demonstrated an interest in the well-being of the other girls. In my opinion that makes her the ideal choice for a Monitor.”

Dean Rosecliff clicked his tongue in that annoying, disapproving manner that demonstrated his own lack of respect for opinions which deviated from his own. “Have you ever considered that her concern for the other girls combined with her disrespect for authority might lead to situations where she successfully hides serious behavior issues from proper handling?”

Ms. Chambers smiled. It wasn’t the happiness sort of smile, but rather the ‘I feel sorry for you and your ignorance’ smile. “I am confident Abigail understands that avoiding responsibility for one’s actions is not in the best interests of anyone. If not, I’m quite certain she would be leveling accusations against Mr. Mason rather than apologizing for her mistake.”

The glance she sent my way as she finished her statement sent a shudder down my spine. Sean and I had always been so careful to avoid anyone suspecting our relationship. The latest discipline coming directly from him, should have dissuaded even the faintest hints of suspicion. And yet there it was, clear as daylight in her eyes. She knew and rather more astounding, she didn’t seem to care.

Dean Rosecliff leaned back in his squeaky chair. “It seems you are determined to ignore my advice on this matter.”

Ms. Chambers shook her head. “I understand your concerns. It is just my belief that both Tanzanite House and Abigail will benefit from her continued participation as a Monitor. In wielding authority responsibly, she might just learn the respect for authority you’re so concerned about.”

Dean Rosecliff inhaled deeply and leaned forward on the edge of his desk. “The decision is of course yours. However, you’ve gone against my advice twice now in regards to Abigail and as a result she has disrespected a member of the staff. Abigail has been disciplined for this, the disciplinary action ends this evening, but you, Ms. Chambers are ultimately responsible for the Monitors in your house. If you think it’s fair for her to continue as a Monitor, I think it’s only fair that you have a share in the consequences.”

Ms. Chambers jaw set and she leaned forward in her seat. “What are you suggesting?”

He smiled. “If Abigail is to continue as a Monitor, you will receive a five day discipline for disrespecting authority.”

“Disagreeing,” Ms. Chambers said, “is not disrespecting.”

He chuckled. “I never suggested it was. Reinstating Abigail as a monitor does however suggest that you think her disrespect toward Mr. Mason was either insignificant or somehow deserved.

“That’s not how I feel,” she said. “I merely believe Abigail is worth a second chance as Monitor.”

Dean Rosecliff nodded. “As part of your punishment, you will write a letter to Mr. Mason explaining as much. You can go ahead and stand up and get undressed.” He picked up his datapad and began tapping on it.