A VERY PRIVATE SCHOOL:
A Novel of Erotic Indoctrination
By Imelda Stark
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2010 Imelda Stark
ISBN: 978-0-9829073-4-4
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Imelda Stark is the nom de plume of a teacher and practitioner of psychotherapy at a major East Coast medical school (hence the need for a pseudonym). She has been exploring the psychologically complex realm of BD/SM for sixteen novels now. Imelda strives to combine the eroticism she feels around challenging things happening to willing bottoms with an exploration of how we aficionados of these painful pleasures got to be the way we are. She welcomes and will respond to email at otherself@sbcglobal.net. A complete listing of her works, all available on Kindle and other electronic media, may be found in the Afterword.
PART I: Phoebe's Initiation
Chapter 1
Phoebe sighed as she clicked open her laptop and pulled up her email. Hundreds of resumes had been out for months, and there had been precious few nibbles. Her savings were dwindling alarmingly, and the job prospects in this economy for a literature PhD were not exactly overwhelming. But she kept her hopes up and still felt a possibly misguided optimism that something would work out. The last job had been worse than a fiasco. The tall brunette had been trying to teach the classics to spoiled rich kids in a so-called progressive prep school whose primary purpose seemed to be providing expensive day care for drug-addled scions of hereditary wealth. But as usual, Phoebe's downfall arose not from her classroom work but from her ever-troublesome private life.
Who could possibly blame her for responding to the subtle romantic overtures of the handsome Chair of the faculty? And who could have imagined that he would be so indiscreet as to kiss and tell about energetically fucking her bent over the scarred oaken table in the faculty lounge after hours one sultry summer night? And worst of all, who could have predicted that the oh-so-liberal female Head of School would have been so jealous to have been displaced in the affections of her wayward lover that she would summarily dismiss her new rival? In any case, that left our heroine on the street looking desperately for work, willing to take almost anything under any circumstances to keep the rent and utilities paid.
So when an email from the Headmistress of St. Bridget's Academy for Young Women popped up in her inbox, Phoebe's heart soared. This emotion immediately became vastly more complicated when she opened the message. It read:
"Dear Dr. Slocum,
Would you be the same Phoebe Slocum who attended this very school some eighteen years ago? If so, what an amazing coincidence! I am Melanie Klein, whom you may recall as the senior girl you shared a room with your freshman year. I remember our times together quite tenderly, and hope you feel likewise. It so happens that my family stepped forward to take over the school when it came on hard times a decade ago. I stepped in as Headmistress, and am not ashamed to say that the place has been rather turned around under my administration.
I and my fellow Headmaster, Dr. Garcia, are looking for someone to take on the role of Chair of the English Department. We think your qualifications match our requirements rather well based on your resume. Please check out our website to see if our school philosophy is a match for you. If so, we would love to have you come in for interviews.
Fondly,
Melanie."
Phoebe's whole body flushed as she cast her thoughts back over time to the year in which the overwhelming Melanie Klein had dominated her young life. Melanie had indeed been a senior when the gangly freshman girl had been assigned to share a double room with the intimidating older girl. From her imposing height and robustly feminine body to her luxuriant wine-colored hair and rare violet eyes, the gorgeous older girl had been an overwhelming presence. As Phoebe soon discovered, Melanie was a bully, though one who practiced her dominance in many subtle ways. The impressionable freshman was immediately awestruck by her sophisticated new roommate.
Being sent to boarding school had been something of a relief for the coltish brunette, whose developing body had yet to grow into her five foot ten inch height. Life at home had been difficult. Phoebe's parents had been firm believers that sparing the rod spoiled the child. So from earliest memory the only child had known that the slightest failure to meet their exacting demands would inevitably result in a long painful encounter between her naked buttocks and a punishing hand at the least. As she grew older, hairbrushes, belts, wooden paddles, and bamboo switches became the weapons of choice for enforcing discipline on the trembling rear end of the generally well-behaved girl. Both parents would participate in these sessions, which were conducted on Sunday mornings after the family returned from their strict fundamentalist church services. A complete record had been kept each week of their daughter's missteps. Careful thought and conversation over Sunday lunch would be given to how many spanks from what implement would be visited upon her penitent bottom cheeks. Then after the fearful girl had cleared the table and done the dishes, the family would reconvene in the dining room for her punishment.
Her mother would always be the executioner of Phoebe's spankings. The trembling girl would be instructed to bend over the table, upon which was placed the instrument for her rear end's coming agonies. Once she was settled, her father would hold her wrists to prevent her from interfering with her punishment. His eyes would always glitter with what seemed like excitement behind his glasses as he secured her in place with his overwhelming grip. She would always plead with them at every step of her weekly ordeal. But the tearful girl's promises to try harder and be better were met with implacable intent on her parents' part. She had been bad, and was going to be punished, and that was that. Once she was bent over, Phoebe would beg not to have her skirt raised. Then she would cajole her mother not to lower her panties to her knees, where they were kept to restrain the inevitable frantic kicking of her legs during her spankings. Next the frightened girl would plead to get it with her Mother's hard hand, which was still preferable to all of the other more painful tools employed for her bottom's inevitable torment.
But all of this hue and cry made not a whit of difference for the outcome. Phoebe's trembling buttocks were in for at least a hundred spanks per cheek from whatever implement had been deemed appropriate for that week's crimes and misdemeanors. As she became older, part of the process of determining her fate included a detailed questioning during the dreaded Sunday lunch. Her mother would conduct this, and the inquisition would inevitably tend toward the sexual, focusing on nasty thoughts and self-abuse, as it was called.
Now this line of inquiry presented an impossible dilemma for the young girl. In fact, since kindergarten Phoebe had noticed that when she was in her room doing her quiet time after her spankings, a funny feeling arose between her legs. She discovered one time while lying on her stomach letting her throbbing bottom cool off that if she touched the little knob of flesh that was at the center of this fascinating throbbing sensation, a wonderful thing happened. It was like electricity seemed to gather all over her body and then shoot to where she was touching herself down there. Then she would shake and make funny little grunting sounds as waves of unbelievable pleasure went all over her body. Of course she never told anyone about this. The intelligent girl knew from hard experience that anything sahe might say having to do with 'down there' was sure to make her next week's spanking much longer and harder and with a meaner implement. Over time, Phoebe realized that she didn't need to wait until after her spanking to enjoy that sensation. By the time she reached second grade, she was happily frigging herself to at least one orgasm every night after her parents had left following their recitation of the Lord's Prayer.
But the basically well-intended girl didn't have a plan to outright lie when she was twelve and her mother asked her point blank if she was masturbating. She knew enough to hesitate, and that gave the game away. Suddenly, her weekly spankings took on a new ferocity. They were always preceded by a mortifyingly detailed questioning about her sexual thoughts and activities. She tried lying, but her mother would always sniff out her dishonesty, and her punishment would be doubled. So Phoebe just gave up and told the truth each week about her masturbatory activities. As a result, her bottom cheeks always stayed sore until Wednesday. The funny thing was, as she was masturbating, the thing she always thought about was just what happened to her on Sunday afternoons, her bottom bared and bent and belabored by her heartless unforgiving bitch of a mother.
There was one other little quirk involving Phoebe's Sunday spankings. Her bedroom was adjacent to her parents', and the intervening wall was far from soundproof. After her punishment was over, her parents would make her stand in the corner of the dining room with her inflamed bare bottom showing below her tucked up skirt while they chatted and drank a self-congratulatory glass of wine. Then she would be sent to her room for her post-punishment quiet time to think about her naughty ways. They would walk her there, both seeming flushed with some kind of excitement as they closed the door behind her. Next, as Phoebe was touching herself lying on her stomach with her bare bottom radiating heat into the air, she would hear noises from next door. First would be a rhythmic creaking, and then her mother would cry out, followed by her father. It wasn't until she told Melanie about this when she was fourteen that she realized that they had been fucking every Sunday. This was apparently their dessert after an appetizer of her naked girlish buttocks squirming under their discipline bent over the dining table.
Chapter 2
St. Bridget's Academy for Young Women was hardly an accidental choice for two parents inclined toward corporal punishment to send their (so they thought) wayward daughter. Phoebe's mother and father claimed to despair of ever correcting their sole offspring's apparently unshakable penchant for sexual self-gratification. Since their own fierce weekly depredations of her rear end had made no dent in this behavior, perhaps being sent away to a strict prep school would prove more effective, they reasoned. In an era when the mainstream of education regarded spanking to be child abuse, the school was an unashamed holdout for old-fashioned discipline of its students. Parents and the enrolled teenagers signed a letter of understanding that school rules would be enforced by spankings delivered on the spot to miscreant students by teachers or other staff. More serious or repeated infractions would be dealt with by even more severe consequences administered by the Headmaster in his office, chaperoned by the stern female Matron. What the letter did not state was that staff members were allowed complete discretion regarding how such punishments were administered.
Of course each of the martinets that were drawn to teach in such an atmosphere had her favorite choices for deliverance of painful consequences to squirming young bottoms. As well, the staff were given free reign as to exactly how girls were to be spanked. Thus each teacher developed her own methods for how miscreants would be bent over and restrained. As well the punisher could decide whether and under what circumstances the school regulation white cotton bikini panties were to be lowered or even completely removed once the uniform pleated plaid skirts were raised and pinned out of the way. This leeway extended to the dormitories, in which carefully groomed senior girls were given the role of dorm monitor. This included the right to spank any of the girls living under their authority as they deemed necessary for proper discipline of their charges.
Phoebe's parents of course informed the disapproving Headmaster and Matron during their admission interview of their daughter's penchant for sinful self-stimulation. This caused the chastened girl to blush with mortification as the four adults fixed her with their stern gazes. The Headmaster spoke: "Then perhaps we should conclude our discussion today with a demonstration spanking of our naughty Phoebe so you can see how Matron and I will be conducting our discipline of her for such a serious offense." All naturally agreed (save, of course, their intended victim). In a trice she was in her well-familiar position of being bent over (this time the Headmaster's large oaken desk) and having her wrists held (this time by the fearsome Matron). The Headmaster asked: "Is she spanked on her bare bottom?" Phoebe's mother replied; "Of course she is! I'm not in the business of punishing her clothing, but her own bare skin. Shall I take down her panties?"
The tall young brunette had started her period over two years earlier and had already grown a substantial crop of short brown pubic hair which she was mortified to have on display to these new adults. Nonetheless her skirt came up and her panties down, and her adolescent charms were on view for all to enjoy. The Headmaster and Matron quite enjoyed such circumstances. They both experienced a strong erotic delight in punishing or otherwise observing teen-age female bottoms. The one on which they now got to feast their eyes was perfectly delectable. It sported small firm round buttocks above long trim athletic thighs from Phoebe's years on the volleyball team, with a succulent young pussy peeking from within the girl's clenched cheeks. They knew from long pleasant experience, as did Phoebe's parents, that once the spanking began all thoughts of modesty would flee the frantic miscreant's mind. Then they would get to feast their eyes on as much as they wanted of the perfect young rear end bared for their tender mercies.
The Headmaster turned to his partner in such crimes. "Matron, what implement would you suggest for a chronic recalcitrant masturbator?" The tall, slender blue-eyed Germanic blonde whose hair was pulled back into a severe bun thought a moment. She replied: "Oh, something quite severe. I'd say the wooden paddle, but the small one for such a tiny rear end so you can reach every bit of it. That would leave us the switch or the riding crop to increase our severity next time if the paddle doesn't do the trick!" Phoebe's parents nodded their grim approval, and the chosen weapon was taken from a cabinet beside the desk.
The flustered teenager's heart sunk as she realized the death of all of her hopes for an end to her parents' reign of terror over her rear end. Even more appalling to the soon-to-be-punished young woman was that years of weekly spankings followed by masturbation had conditioned her to eroticize even impending painful attention to her buttocks. Phoebe was aware that the liquid evidence of this fact would be visually and olfactorially apparent to all of the adults present. She had wondered if her parents were consciously aware of her reflexive arousal around being spanked. But her instincts told her that the two new rulers of her universe were quite likely to be registering this fact. What the Headmaster and Matron would do with this knowledge was as worrisome to the restrained girl as her impending bottom pain.
Indeed, both of these experienced connoisseurs of punished teen-age bottoms were delighted to register both the glistening exudate visible through Phoebe's sparse brown pubes, as well as its delicate odor. Of course none of this awareness registered on their stern faces, just in the slight raising of an eyebrow in their exchanged glance. Girls who got turned on by having their buttocks spanked were rare and particularly precious to the two perverted leaders, who privately called them 'dirty girls'. Each could envision many complex pleasurable encounters with the lissome young woman now totally at their not-so-tender mercies.
The Headmaster turned to Phoebe's parents and spoke: "I see she's been spanked recently. I will need to know with what and how many in order to tailor her penance accordingly." That had been three days earlier and it still hurt for the teenager to sit from such a thorough chastisement of her ass cheeks. The terrified girl's mother matter-of-factly replied: "I gave her two hundred on each cheek with the hairbrush last Sunday in my final attempt to mend her slutty ways. You can ask her how successful it was. Our naughty girl has learned from hard experience that it is pointless to fib about such things." The masterful man turned to his new student and sternly inquired: "When and how often did you play with yourself since your last spanking, young lady? " Phoebe so much wanted to lie, but she knew if she did they would all know and just spank the truth out of her. She admitted: "In my room right after, and then every night since at least once."
The Headmaster sighed and said to his cohort: "Matron, what do you think such an incorrigible girl requires if we are to have any hopes of reaching her?" The tall blonde thought a moment and replied: "I think her mother knows best as to the number of spanks. The paddle is enough fiercer than a hairbrush that we have some hope of getting our message across." Her grimly satisfied coworker responded: "Very well, then it will be four hundred of my best. I doubt if she'll be able to sit comfortably until our next session a week from today." With that, Phoebe's worst spanking ever began. It was delivered in four doses of a hundred swats, fifty to each buttock in strict alternation. Their expert deliverer took meticulously sadistic pleasure in working his way systematically around the lovely young moons that danced so fetchingly to his painful tune. The last twenty of each dose were delivered to the most sensitive undercurves, focused on the tender junction between thigh, ass cheek, and pussy. Their frantic recipient howled as usual through her tears as she struggled to absorb her ordeal. But at last it was over, and then she received a surprise.
The Matron released the penitent girl's sweaty wrists while admonishing her to hold her position bent over the desk. The tall blonde retrieved two chemical ice packs from a small refrigerator beneath the cabinet that held the racked implements of punishment. Then she and the Headmaster simultaneously applied the cooling packs to the bright red quivering buttocks they had just so thoroughly toasted. She explained: "We routinely ice down our girls after such severe punishments. Our intention is to cause as much pain as possible with as little harm, and icing keeps the bruising to a minimum. Of course that also means that there is more latitude for even more harsh attention to deserving behinds if we deem it necessary."
The frantic girl was immeasurably relieved to receive this caring attention on the heels of such an overwhelming spanking. Phoebe calmed much more rapidly than usual, and lay there absorbing the cooling touch of the cold packs as the grownups casually discussed her impending education. Matron held a tissue for the girl to blow her nose, and then she was helped up and taken to stand in the corner for her customary time displaying her spanked bottom. Her parents had explained that this was their custom each Sunday at home. The Matron had replied somewhat archly: "Well, then, we should do that here while we finish discussing our new student. After all, we want her to feel as much at home as possible in her new environment."
So Phoebe's skirt was pinned up and her panties were left around her knees as she hobbled to the corner indicated by the imperious blonde. Then the punished girl, awash in even more than her usual post-spanking swelter of feelings, listened as the adults mapped out her academic course at school. Her mother of course inquired about regular disciplinary attentions. The Headmaster replied that each girl at school had a private meeting with him and the Matron each week in which all disciplinary issues were discussed and appropriate consequences were administered. Phoebe's parents seemed reassured at this since it echoed their own schedule at home.
Once the teenager's corner time was done, she was allowed to raise her panties. In spite of the icing down, this was still quite painful as she eased them over her poor inflamed buttocks. The self-satisfied grownups all stood and walked her out of the office, and to her parents' car. She was still somewhat teary as she bade them goodbye. Phoebe felt more relief than anything else to be finally not living under their dominion. Of course, this new regime that was about to take control of her life didn't exactly look any more friendly. Then after they watched the car drive off Matron escorted her to the dorm to introduce her to her new life.
Chapter 3
Phoebe's dorm room turned out to be on the second floor of the ivied building that housed half of the girls. She and the Matron hauled her suitcases up the stairs and to the white-painted door at the end of the hall. Matron knocked and a tall robust beauty with piles of wine-red hair and shocking violet eyes answered. The equally imposing new leader spoke: “Melanie, this is your new student Phoebe Slocum. She is a newly enrolled freshman, and I will leave it up to your discretion as the dorm monitor as far as whom she should room with. Phoebe, Melanie speaks with my own authority, and disobeying her carries the same consequences as defying any staff member. I’ll leave you girls to get to know each other.” With that, the fearsome Matron strode out of the room and firmly closed the door behind her.
Melanie stood and walked over to the new student and firmly took her by both shoulders with her powerful hands. She said: “You’re a lanky one, aren’t you? Let’s have you over my knee to have a look at how bad a spanking the Headmaster gave you on your intake interview.” With that, the intimidating monitor sat down on her bed with her back against the white wall and drew Phoebe onto her lap face down. She casually flipped up her skirt and pulled down her panties to reveal her still-throbbing buttocks. A low whistle escaped her lips as Melanie exclaimed: “My goodness, girl, you must have done something fearsome to warrant having your buns toasted this badly! And such perfectly lovely little bottom cheeks as well. Don’t tell me, let me guess: playing with yourself?” As she spoke, her cool hands were stroking Phoebe’s bottom cheeks, which the submissive girl confessed to herself felt very comforting. She sighed and replied: “Yes, you’re right. I wanted to lie, but I always get caught and just get worse spankings anyway.” She felt Melanie’s hands slip her panties further down and all the way off her legs, and wondered what she was up to. Soon Phoebe found out, as the monitor ordered: “Spread your legs, dear, and let’s see if my nose doesn’t deceive me.”
The coltish freshman moaned in embarrassment as she realized that her dirty secret of getting turned on by being spanked was about to be uncovered. And indeed it was, as the masterful monitor exclaimed: “Well, well! What have we here? It looks like a very excited little cunt, dripping with the evidence for that state! Hold still while I investigate.” With that, Phoebe moaned in shame as Melanie’s deft fingers parted her pussy lips to reveal my swollen clitoris and oozing vagina. Soon the new student was moaning even louder as fingers plunged gradually inside her, gathering her moisture. Then they began encircling her clitoris in a delicious massage. Within a minute the lanky body sprawled on Melanie’s lap exploded into a better orgasm than the new student had ever experienced in her short life. The dorm monitor continued stroking her new charge’s inflamed buttocks with one hand while diddling her clit until the last pleasurable spasms had subsided and the room was still.
Melanie spoke: “Well aren’t you a treasure! I believe you will be rooming with me for the year! We should have a great deal of naughty fun with each other! And I promise you that lying about masturbation will not be necessary any more, since I will take charge of meeting the needs of your responsive little pussy every day.” At that moment, this prospect sounded just fine to the already enamored new student. She almost purred as she lay depleted in her post-spanking and post-orgasmic neuronal haze, feeling as good as she could recall in her whole life.
The robustly gorgeous monitor continued her hypnotic stroking of her new protege’s naked bottom as she went on. “So, little Phoebe, let me explain how things run here at St. Bridget’s. You can consider this your own personal orientation meeting. If you’re a good girl and do what you’re told by the teachers and staff, your sweet little bottom will hardly ever get spanked in public. Bad girls get hauled up in front of the class and provide entertainment for the rest of us watching their bottom cheeks dance and their pussies wiggle. Of course, private spankings still happen at least once a week in the Headmaster’s office, and even I can’t avoid those. The Matron has also been known to take a shine to girls whose pussies get wet like yours when they get spanked. So don’t be surprised if you get called in by her for ‘Special Counseling’. That can also be quite painful, but there are rewards if you allow her to ‘comfort’ your bottom after she’s done spanking it.”
“And then there’s dorm life. I have selected you to be my own special plaything! In fact, I believe that’s what I’ll call you when we’re all alone in here! Every night after lights out, you and I are going to have our own special private time together. I promise you it will be most stimulating for you. All you have to do is exactly what I say all the time, and everything will be just wonderful between us. Do you understand, my sweet little Plaything?”
The almost hypnotized younger girl found herself intoning: “Yes, Melanie.” The tall monitor responded: “Well, aren’t you a precious one! I just know we’re going to get along wonderfully and have many exciting times together! You can count on me to show you the ropes and keep you out of trouble. Except, of course, for your weekly sessions with the Headmaster. Then you will be on your own, and I recommend telling the truth about anything he or the Matron ask. Now let’s get you unpacked and we’ll see to showing you around and making it to the dining hall in time for dinner.” Phoebe was delighted at the sisterly warmth she received from her beautiful new friend. Soon her belongings were stowed away and the tour of the stately old campus completed. They headed to the dining hall, both feeling quite hungry.
The meal was of middling quality--a cut above most institutional food but still far short of home cooking. Melanie sat next to her protege and introduced her to the other girls at their long trestle table, guiding their chatting over the unremarkable meal. Suddenly just as the tables were being cleared the Matron’s voice rang out: “Miss Albertson, you may stand!” A wail of dismay arose from a petite busty blonde seated two tables over from Phoebe. But stand the culprit did, hanging her head in horrified anticipation of what she had no doubt was about to come. The imperious blonde leader ordered: “Come to the dais and hand me your panties, young lady!” The penitent young woman wailed even louder as she realized that whatever punishment she had coming was to be delivered not only in front of the entire student body but on her bare rear end.
Phoebe was fascinated by this turn of events and looked quizzically at her monitor. Melanie explained in a careful whisper: “It looks like Jane got caught doing something bad. I’d bet it’s a room search that turned up her cigarettes, since I know she sneaks a smoke now and then to try to keep her weight down. She’s really in for it if I’m right, since Matron hates smoking with a passion.” By this time the already weeping curvaceous blonde senior had mounted the steps at the side of the dais that held the faculty tables in the dining hall. The clearly angry Matron had taken Jane by her arm and marched her to the center of the space in front of the teachers’ white cloth covered table. The terrified teenager was then turned to face her peers, as the Matron produced the damning evidence, a pack of Kools, for all to see.
The imposing leader spoke sternly: “Miss Albertson, what do you have to say about these?” The desperate girl made a poorly considered effort to protest her innocence: “I don’t know whose those are...” Her implacable inquisitor snapped: “That will be a doubling of your spanking for lying, young lady! Care to try for a redoubling? My arm is certainly up to spanking your naughty rear end in front of the student body for the entire night if need be!” Jane blushed crimson, a very charming coloration for her Nordic complexion, and muttered in a low voice: “...They’re mine, I guess...” The Matron retorted crisply: “You guess? Well perhaps an additional hundred spanks per cheek will move your guesswork toward certainty! Very well, you will receive five hundred of my best per buttock, so off with those panties and let’s get you properly restrained.”
Tears of fearful mortification were streaming down the lovely seventeen-year-old’s cherubic cheeks as she miserably skinned her panties down and off while trying to retain some shred of dignity. Melanie whispered snidely to her fascinated new roommate: “Jane can be so silly sometimes...as if we’re all not going to see everything she’s got down there wiggling like mad for the next half hour!” The regulation white cotton bikini panties were handed to the Matron, who carefully folded them into a tight wad which she inserted into Jane’s Cupid’s bow mouth. Apparently the intrigued students were not to be regaled by their evening entertainment’s unmuffled verbal responses to her impending ordeal. Then the penitent blonde was turned around and bent over the table with her lushly feminine rear end toward the audience. Her wrists were then held by the Headmaster’s powerful grip, so there was no slight hope of escape.
The Matron produced a safety pin from her skirt pocket, and then raised Jane’s uniform pleated plaid skirt. Once it was pinned out of the way, the already sobbing senior’s womanly backside was flagrantly displayed to all. Her buttocks were more lavishly fleshed than one would have expected for the slenderness of her waist and thighs. All was a pristine untanned ivory white, with a healthy shock of blonde pubic hair peeking from within the tightly clenched nether cheeks. The stern blonde domme then produced her weapon of choice for this offense. It was a brown leather hand mirror-shaped paddle with a six inch oval business end on a six inch handle. Then the Matron stepped to the left of the delectable naked rear end that was the perfect canvas on which she was going to have free reign to exercise her sadistic art for the next half hour or more, depending on how much she elected to prolong her victim's agony. She placed her left hand atop the pinned up skirt to steady her aim, and Phoebe’s first chance to witness another girl’s spanking began.
Now the reader must recall that our heroine had received at least one such spanking herself for every week of her life that she could remember. So what Jane was experiencing was deeply etched into the new student’s body and brain, and hard-wired into eroticization. Thus, Phoebe was mortified to note that her pussy flooded with telltale moisture even before Jane’s fearsome public spanking began. Her ever-vigilant monitor could hardly fail to miss the facial flush of arousal on the lovely cheeks of her new protege. Melanie took the opportunity of the room’s attention being riveted on the salacious entertainment on the dais. The older girl slipped a hand under her roommate’s skirt from the front concealed by the tablecloth and sampled the sodden state of the crotch of the new girl’s panties. Phoebe moaned in embarrassment at the revelation of her nasty secret. This emotion was accentuated as the monitor whispered in the coltish brunette’s ear: “My goodness, what have we here? A girl who gets turned on by other girls getting spanked! You and I will have to have a long chat about this later!"
The paddle began its painful progress around the fruitlessly wriggling buttocks of the penitent girl so unhappily on stage for the entertainment of her classmates. Its wielder took on her task with a vengeance. She had lost both her parents to the consequences of smoking, her father to cancer and her mother to emphysema. So the Matron had a vast reservoir of anger to tap when she took on the task of discouraging tobacco usage among her charges. The spanks came hard and heavy and at least ten a minute as their targets rapidly darkened from their original ivory to increasingly vivid shades of pink. By the time the first break arrived at one hundred swats per cheek, their recipient was frantic with the pain and genuinely contrite. The Matron took a breather and dipped a cloth napkin in ice water to cool down Jane’s inflamed buttocks. This was hardly in the service of kindness. Rather, it was to give the sadistic leader more leeway to whale away to her heart’s content without fear of too much residual bruising. Nonetheless, the punished senior felt a flood of gratitude toward her tormentress for this soothing intermission.
And so it went for five cycles. At each intermission, the frantic Jane was reminded that her travails would have been over had she been more honest and cooperative with her inquisitor, who only had the girl’s best interests at heart. By the time the final spank had fallen on the now bright crimson buttocks, Phoebe was as aroused as she had ever been in her brief life. The freshman also noted that unlike herself, there seemed to be no sign of moisture in the flagrantly displayed pussy of the punished girl. Apparently poor Jane was not one of those women for whom bottom pain was a form of lovemaking. So perhaps the chastisement might actually serve as more of a negative reinforcement than it would have for the fiercely turned on new student.
Chapter 4
The student body was dismissed once their post-prandial entertainment was complete. But before they filed out, the tear-soaked Jane was positioned in the corner next to the door through which all exited with her skirt still pinned up and her sizzling buttocks on display for all. Phoebe was surprised to see many of the girls reach out to touch the burning moons as they filed past. Melanie explained that this tradition was instituted by the Matron after public punishments. It was in order for all to benefit from the exercise by feeling how much heat would be wrung from their own rear ends should the err in the same way as the miscreant. The new student was fascinated by how hot Jane’s nether cheeks were, wondering if her own had been as toasty before being iced down after her spanking that afternoon.
Once the girls were back in their dorms, Melanie introduced Phoebe to her dorm-mates. The gangly new student was greeted with friendliness by her cohorts, an energetic band of teenagers all clearly of privileged background save for a few scholarship students. Melanie assumed her leadership role and mandated everyone to study hall until lights out three hours later. Then the monitor escorted her new roommate back to their quarters for further evaluation. Phoebe was still feeling uncomfortably aroused after having witnessed the long spanking of poor Jane in the dining hall. Naturally this state was sniffed out (perhaps even quite literally) by the predatory older girl. Once they were inside the room, Melanie closed and locked the door, remarking: "The monitor's room is the only one on each floor with a lock, so don't worry about anyone disturbing us, dear. Now I'd like to see you out of those clothes and get a look at what I have to work with here."
Phoebe sighed and retorted: "Melanie, please..." The older girl sharply replied: "If you'd like I can take you over my knee and give your very tender bottom a nice long visit with my hairbrush while you meditate on the consequences of disobeying my orders!" The younger girl immediately folded her hand as her bullying roommate had upped the ante far beyond what Phoebe felt her exquisitely tender buttocks could tolerate. So the blushing freshman unbuttoned her white cotton uniform blouse and hung it up. The pleated plaid uniform skirt was next, leaving her clad in dark knee socks and the required white cotton panties and brassiere. The socks went next, and were followed by the bra and panties, all carefully placed in the dirty clothes hamper by the well-trained freshman. At last Melanie got to see the body she would have free reign with for the remainder of the year.
The naked Phoebe was reminiscent of a Maxfield Parrish nude: long, clean limbs, small absolutely firm breasts, and a taut boyish bottom just taking on subtle hints of the curves of womanhood. Melanie sighed in pleasure at the lean perfection of her blushing new roommate. The older girl remarked: “You couldn’t be more lovely, dear! I’m going to enjoy milking every drop of sensation out of every naughty part of you every single night! Since you mended your little rebellious ways, I’ll hold off on that spanking for the time being. But I think a certain hungry little brown-furred cunt is dying for some attention, am I not right?”
The new student had never heard the C word uttered casually in her presence before. She was both stunned and a little aroused at the matter-of-fact vulgarity of her monitor’s reference to the telltale body part in question. But Phoebe found herself frozen and not sure how to answer her imperious roommate’s inquiry. Melanie gently but firmly chided her protege: “Dear Plaything, you must learn the rules or your bottom is going to be permanently too sore to sit on. Don’t imagine for a second that just because Headmaster toasted your buttocks to a turn this afternoon they will not be spanked to death if you show me any disobedience! I suggest you answer my question promptly or your already sore rear end will face the consequences of your insubordination.”
Phoebe flushed even brighter in embarrassment. But she stammered out: “Yes, Melanie, my...cunt...got very...turned on...by me seeing Jane get it just like I have so many times.” Her exultant monitor smiled brightly at her new submissive’s capitulation, and replied: “Why then, we must see to the poor hungry thing right away! Lie down on your back on my bed, and your kind mistress will show you just how we deal with ravenous pussies around here.” The lanky freshman complied, her long body almost filling the narrow single mattress from top to bottom. Her imperious roommate then went on: “Now put you feet on the floor on both sides of the bed, dear Plaything, and rest your arms at your sides and keep them there. I want your pussy and sweet little titties all opened up to me.”
The aroused freshman complied. She felt awash in the conflicting emotions of embarrassment and arousal. Her wicked monitor sensed this and capitalized on it immediately: “Oh, look, the pretty little cunt is practically dripping with pussy juice! And such precious firm little boobs! Has anyone ever made love to them, Plaything?” Phoebe answered: “No Melanie, I’ve never messed around with anyone else, but I have touched them myself when I was playing with myself after Mom and Dad spanked me, and sometimes just by themselves.” The violet-eyed beauty responded enthusiastically: “Oh, good! I’ll start with them then.”
With, that, Melanie began tenderly stroking Phoebe’s barely-B-cup mammary mounds. The monitor was delighted at their firm consistency, and at their responsiveness. The small pink nipples immediately sprung to full erection, sticking out like pencil erasers. The older girl then leaned over and took each of them successively in her mouth while toying with the other in her hand. Phoebe moaned at the unexpected surge of hormonal pleasure that shot right to her groin as her never-before-kissed nipples were gently suckled and tongued in succession. While this was going on the opposite one received its own lascivious massage between the thumb and forefinger of the experienced monitor.
This went on for perhaps ten minutes, as the new student writhed in pleasure at this unexpected lovemaking. Then things got even more interesting. Melanie sighed and repositioned herself between Phoebe’s long splayed white thighs. By this point, after having received her own fearsome spanking and then observing Jane’s equally severe one, the new student was more aroused than ever in her short life. Her liquors of arousal were literally seeping down her perineum to stain the towel that had been placed to catch just such drips. Her experienced new lover reverently parted the sparsely-furred labia before her and took a deep sniff. “You couldn’t smell more wonderfully, dear...but now your monitor must have a taste!”
With that, Phoebe’s world changed. Melanie’s knowing tongue laved the virginal pussy from bottom to top in a slow, delicious pass that ended by encircling the small erect clitoris. Its owner immediately burst into a writhing total body orgasm. Phoebe’s pleasurable paroxysms caused her whole lanky body to writhe and plunge on the bed as Melanie held her station by firmly grasping the slender hips vibrating beneath her until the spasms subsided after a minute or two.
The delighted monitor sighed: “Now wasn’t that nice, dear Plaything?” Phoebe moaned in stunned satisfaction: “Oh...my...God...Melanie, that was the most amazing thing I’ve ever felt! Thank you so much!” Her exultant lover replied: “Oh, the pleasure was all mine, dear. Well, not exactly yet, but it certainly will be, as you will see as we go along. Now I want you to just lie there while I do it again and add in some extras that I think you’ll like even more.”
The monitor was quite high herself on the power trip of showing her new submissive roommate the amazing secrets of the erotic responsiveness of her own body. So she led a little seminar of cunnilingus. First the delicious oral attentions were combined with a thorough manual massage of the new girl’s breasts. The older girl started very gently feeling the tender young mounds, and gradually increased her intensity. By the end, Melanie was pinching the excitable girl’s nipples quite fiercely as Phoebe writhed on the bed in her passion. In about ten minutes the freshman climaxed a second time, even more intensely than the first, her verbal expressions of sexual release no doubt carrying beyond the locked door.
But the imperious older girl was not yet done with her succulent new charge. The lascivious lingual massage of Phoebe’s clitoris continued, only this time Melanie’s right hand was repositioned between her roommate’s legs. Deft fingers began gently encircling the supine student’s vaginal opening, teasing the tender orifice whose exudate now soaked the towel beneath its owner’s bottom. Then first one finger made its way inside as the lanky brunette moaned at this delicious new sensation. Once it was clear that this intrusion was welcome, a second finger followed. Soon the two were busily massaging Phoebe’s G spot. And soon thereafter the overwhelmed teenager burst into her most soul-shattering climax yet. The monitor rode out her new student’s waves of pleasure one last time until all was peaceful.
The totally enamored freshman finally spoke: “My God, Melanie, that was amazing! I never knew it could be like that...Thank you so much!” The domme-in-training smiled up at her worshipful charge. She queried: “So, how would you feel about a chance to return the favor, my dear little Plaything?” The submissive girl replied enthusiastically: “I’d love to! But you’ll have to tell me what to do.” Melanie laughed as she rose up and began stripping. She replied: “Well, dear, as you may have noticed, telling people what to do comes quite naturally to me. I suspect you recall the basics of what I did, so why don’t you get a start and I’ll instruct you from there.”
Soon Phoebe was treated to the lovely sight of the monitor totally nude. While the older girl was the same height as the freshman, she probably outweighed her submissive roommate by thirty pounds, most of it muscle. The exception to this was a pair of firm C-cup breasts and a bottom even more womanly than that of the poor spanked Jane. The domme first demanded her new student pay homage to her breasts: “My adorable Plaything can start by making love to my titties with her hands and mouth. Be gentle at first, but after awhile you can get quite rough, since they like that.”
The senior got a fresh towel and replaced the sodden one that had absorbed Phoebe’s erotic secretions. Then her fulsome body was happily splayed for its desired worship. Melanie clasped her hands behind her head to raise it up so she could watch the proceedings. Then she sighed at the tentative touch of her new lover, welcoming the stroking fingers and gentle lips as they perused her firm young breasts. She instructed: “Start by touching them very lightly on the surface, avoiding the nipples ‘til later. Then once your fingertips have memorized them, you can massage more deeply while you start kissing them with just your lips. Once you have kissed and massaged everywhere but the nipples, you can kiss there too. Suck them right inside you mouth, and roll your tongue around them...Oh yes, God that’s good!”
Phoebe showed considerable aptitude for her task. Soon she had her monitor moaning and writhing in pleasure just form having her breasts worshipped. But the older girl was impatient, having been tantalized for many hours since her original masturbation of the new student on her arrival. So Melanie instructed: “Very nice work, Plaything! But now I must have that lovely face of yours between my legs, and pronto. Start by spreading my lips and just licking my slit from bottom to top with your tongue. When you get to the top, circle my clit a few times slowly, and then repeat until I give you a big surprise.”
The new student followed her instructions precisely. She was nervous about going down on the older girls for a lot of reasons. How would it taste? Would the luxuriant wine-colored pubic hairs gag her? Would she know how to speed up or slow down the way Melanie had clearly known in wringing the three best orgasms of her life out of the lanky brunette freshwoman a few minutes earlier? Well, it turned out to be much simpler that Phoebe had feared. The monitor’s taste and smell were actually quite pleasant. The imposing hairs folded neatly out of the way when the nether lips were parted. And the older girl began climaxing like a madwoman by the third pass of Phoebe’s tongue. The muscular hips bucked so strongly that the slender roommate could barely keep her mouth applied to its target through their paroxysms. And at last all was once again peaceful.
But Melanie had far more activity in mind. She commanded: “Up you go, Plaything! It’s time to teach you about the sixty-nine. So I want you to lie down on top of me face down with your head towards my feet. Your knees will go beside my head, and your mouth will be right back where it just did such a nice job. Then you are simply to do exactly the same things to my cunt that I will be doing to yours.” Phoebe complied, glad to be of service to her already hero-worshipped monitor. Also the freshman was intrigued to see if she could climax again herself. Three orgasms in a row were unprecedented for the new student, and a fourth (or more?) unimaginable.
The lissome duo settled avidly into their mutual cunnilingus. Melanie savored the descent of the gorgeous slender thighs over her face, and happily lapped and finger fucked her charge’s sweet young pussy. Phoebe returned the favor with gusto, and soon got a reward. The older girl burst into orgasm within five minutes, her spasms less intense but more prolonged than the first time. About ten minutes later, the freshman surged over her own climactic threshold, joined almost immediately by her excited partner. Their muffled cries of joy intermingled for a minute before their passion at last was spent.
The couple lay inhaling each others’ erotic effluvia, idly stroking the bottoms displayed so intimately inches away from their eyes. Melanie ventured: “You know that I will have to spank these sweet little buttocks every day, don’t you, Plaything? But I promise we will always have a nice sixty nine as soon as they are properly warmed.” Her adoring roommate simply replied: “I know you will do what is best for me, Melanie.” In that moment, she meant exactly what she said.
Chapter 5
The Headmaster and the Matron walked back to the administration building after dinner. Both were feeling more than a touch aroused after the long, delicious spanking of the luscious Jane. The Headmaster spoke: “So, Helga, it seems you have another dirty girl on your hands, judging from the amount of moisture seeping from our little Phoebe’s cunt this afternoon.” The severe blonde smiled dreamily before she responded: “Yes, Andrew, she seems like one of my special girls. I suppose you will have to leave her to me for her weekly discipline sessions.”
The tall, handsome man had very strict rules with himself regarding sex with students. He would happily deliver spankings to bare teenage bottoms from dawn to dusk, as long as his penitents truly regarded their bottoms’ fate as punishment. There was no doubt in his (or the Matron’s) mind that he found this task enormously arousing. But it crossed a line for him if the girl receiving his attentions found them to be sexual for herself. This small minority of the student body were called ‘dirty girls’ by the dominant duo who ruled the school. He was honest enough with himself that the distinction he drew was specious, but it reassured him nonetheless. So the Headmaster was limited to the staff members for his personal erotic gratification. Fortunately for him, there was no shortage of willing volunteers for any kind of sexual activity he would care to participate in. An environment with several hundred hormone saturated teenage girls and several dozen female teachers selected for their resonance to the sexiness of spanked rear ends generated carloads of unrequited female lust that he was the only male object for.
The Matron was a different story, in oh-so-many ways. She was a product of Cold War Germany, where she had been the daughter of a rather infamous erotic performer in the Berlin sex club scene. As a result, from earliest memory Helga had been exposed to outre adult sexuality as a casual part of her daily environment. She was cheerfully both multilingual and multisexual. The tall blonde enjoyed men, women, and girls, as well as dominant and submissive roles as interchangeably as the seven languages she was fluent in. Her memories were full of bizarre erotic experiences. For example, when she was thirteen her mother had arranged for her to misbehave while conducting a song-and-dance parody before a dissolute audience at an after hours club in West Berlin. Her faux-rebellion earned her an on-stage bare-bottom spanking that was widely reported to be the erotic highlight of the season. Helga rather fondly remembered her mother stroking her throbbing naked bottom over her lap as several dozen applauding adults proceeded to fall into wild erotic activities stimulated by her perfect youthful buttocks’ painful plight.
Lung cancer combined with a devil-may-care lifestyle took Helga’s mother when the daughter was eighteen years old. The orphan was taken under the wing of a high officer in the American military, and she was naturalized after immigrating to accompany her ‘uncle’ on his return home. His wife was less than thrilled with this arrangement. Soon she found herself on her own again, but this time with a rather large cash nest egg paid by her guilty patron. The resourceful girl parlayed this into admission to college under a carefully constructed new identity as a poor refugee from newly liberated East Germany. She excelled in school and eventually found herself with a doctorate in European Literature and a job as the female leader of a prestigious private school. All the while her kinky sexual side had been cultivated in the shadows. The severe Matron had kept her private proclivities skillfully hidden from those who regarded her to be just an intelligent teacher and an attractive single woman who kept to herself socially.
In that shadow realm, Helga had become known as a quintessential domme. Her slight German accent and severe Teutonic beauty only enhanced this role. By the time she enters our story, she is in her late forties and at the height of her powers. Her long, lithe, small-breasted body is still trim and taut, and she has finally found a professional venue in which her personal sexual perversions find unlimited purview. During ten years at St. Bridget’s, she has formed an unbeatable team with her old friend and oft-times lover, the Headmaster. They originally met at a BDSM club, each admiring the other’s work in publicly tormenting willing submissive women. When Andrew was offered the leadership job at the girls’ school, he called Helga immediately. Over the next few years they gradually weeded out the faculty to be replaced with hand-picked associates from their female friends in the BDSM scene.
What resulted was a carefully selected group of teachers who were truly dedicated to providing excellent education, but who also believed in the merits of corporal punishment for rebellious teenage girls. All were carefully schooled in keeping overt sex completely out of the picture in their dealings with the students. Of course, the opposite was the case between faculty members, especially regarding their way-handsome leader. So the wriggling bottoms of spanked girls were used as the appetizer, and meals were eaten only among the grownups.
But there was one exception to this rule. That involved the Matron and her dirty girls. When it reported during a spanking that the recipient had become aroused, the girl in question was referred to the salacious Helga. Her own experiences as a teenager had convinced the tall blonde that girls who naturally eroticized spanking could be seduced into her web without doing any more harm to them than had been done to her. The irony of this belief was completely lost on the Matron, though not on her co-leader of the school. But he tolerated it because she was such an able manager of her role as well as being an infinitely enjoyable object for his own dark-side passions.
Thus, it was surprising to neither of them when the Headmaster took his old friend firmly by her arm and declared: “Well, it seems that my own personal favorite dirty girl is in need of some detailed attention to her own delightful rear end, as well as several other sensitive places! Let’s adjourn to your office, Helga dear, and get you out of these clothes and into some restraints and see what we can do about your naughty enjoyment of punishing innocent teenage rear ends.” The Matron shot him a fierce look filled with complexity. On one hand, she loved it that Andrew knew her so well to see how much she needed a sexual release after such a stimulating afternoon. On the other, she was appalled at the painful times ahead for her most sensitive parts before that release would be granted. Of course, it would be that much more intense and satisfying because of the ordeal preceding it. But that was cold (actually, quite warm) comfort to the parts of her that would be made to suffer for the next hour or two.