Cane and Consequence (Part 3 of 4)

20Dec12

paddled and spanked

Our story began here.

The first half-an-hour facing the wall had been a blur for Catherine. She had been too busy crying and processing the total humiliation of taking an over the knee spanking from Jeanette. Then as she came to her senses she became aware of the mundane, such as the draft on her legs and exposed bottom and the sound of other girls going about their business all around her.

Thankfully none had yet passed by, but she couldn’t be certain no one had seen her as she had as yet not dared to look around.

To her left was the window but a glance in that direction reassured her that anyone looking in would only see her top half, although it would be pretty obvious that she was in disgrace from her odd stance.

To her right was the main corridor for her floor, but it was a good 30 feet along and someone could pass by and not notice her. Risking a glance to look for witnesses, she then grabbed at her bottom and tested it with her fingers. The flesh was hot and felt hard to her touch. She managed to make it sting a little by pressing it with her fingers and after one more quick look down the hall she tried to look down over her shoulder at the polished red on her behind.

“This is stupid,” she groaned and she eyed the door and the refuge of her room beyond it.

What had Jeanette Barry said? She would find out if she did not do as she was told, but how? Would someone dob her in? It angered her that she had suddenly become to cowardly to put it to the test, but she wasn’t ready for another spanking or worse just then.

Catherine was still debating with herself when someone came around the corner and up the hall. Catherine wanted to melt into the floor.

“You Catherine Overton?” the girl asked.

Catherine’s face flooded red, but she managed to nod.

“Ms Barry says you can tidy your room now,” the girl said in a somewhat surly manner as if she was too busy for this chore.

“Thanks,” Catherine’s voice was tight and kept her face buried into the wall.

“Oh and Ms Barry says… eh, what was it? Oh yes. You are to go back to where you are standing once you are done. Remind you that is; yes that’s it. You already knew I guess. God I had to do that before. It’s a bitch ain’t it?” The girl snorted.

“Yes,” Catherine cringed and wished the girl would go away. She was far too embarrassed to move until she had gone.

Once she was alone Catherine could not get back into her room quick enough. For a moment she considered getting dressed, but then decided it was a risk with no gain. Nevertheless she felt foolish and self-conscious as she put her clothes and various detritus into draws and cupboards so that she could dust.

The biggest problem was that she had to hoover and the vacuum cleaner, if she remembered correctly, was down the hall in a broom closet.

She pondered the shame of fetching it as she was and found herself blushing heroically even though she was on her own.

“Damn,” she growled and then went to the door as she was.

Peeking out and seeing no one she made a dash down the hall and all the way along the passage to the closet. For a moment she wondered if she had to get a key from someone and her embarrassed-visage found a whole new shade that set her heart pounding. But the door was open and the vacuum was easy enough to retrieve. So easy in fact that she couldn’t help giggling as she dashed back to her room towing the cleaner behind her.

*

Despite her most thorough efforts, all too soon her room was immaculate and Catherine had to once again face the prospect of standing with her bare bottom displayed in the hall outside. Then she remembered the hoover and cursed.

“Oh well,” she said with a shrug.

This time she strolled along the corridor to the closet and took the trouble to put it away tidily, almost daring someone to come along.

This time someone obliged. Two women emerged from the fire doors by the stairs and went passed with barely a glance. Catherine decided that ducking into the closet would look too foolish, so she hovered in the half open door and tried to look busy. Then as a parting shot one of them said, “Ooh, I bet you felt that.” And then they were gone.

“No big deal I suppose,” Catherine sighed.

She remembered her games mistress when confronted with shy girls in the showers at school.

“All girls together,” she would sing out. It was true, Catherine realised.

Nevertheless, Catherine suddenly felt self-conscious again and hurried back to take her place facing outside her room. That burglary prank of Rupert’s really wasn’t that much fun, she thought idly as she touched the wall with her nose.

*

It took an age for Jeanette to come back and when she did, she ignored Catherine altogether. Instead she just breezed into the room and spent several minutes inspecting it. Finally she emerged and said, “Adequate I suppose.”

“Thank you Ma’am,” Catherine said shyly.

“Don’t you see, you could have just done what you were told before without all the unpleasantness,” Jeanette observed.

“Yes Ma’am,” Catherine sighed. It was true.

“Now we have one more chore,” Jeanette said. “Fetch the paddle and hand it to me. Then, let us see if you remember the position I told you to adopt from before.”

Catherine baulked. She had been praying that her punishment would be over, but she decided that she now knew better than to argue. Instead she said, “Yes Ma’am.”

The paddle was cool and stiff to her touch and it didn’t come off the hook easily and Catherine had to wrestle with it. Finally it came away and she could feel its weight in her hands.

Jeanette made her hold it for a long 30 seconds or so before taking the offered paddle and then she gave the girl a hard stare until Catherine bowed her head and turned to face the bed.

Catherine felt tears pricking at her eyes and she blushed again. The bed was set before her in an accusation and she was overwhelmed with a feeling that was somewhere between that of a condemned woman and her shame the day she wet herself during a school nativity play. Then nodding in acceptance, she stepped forward and clambered onto the mattress. It sank beneath her knees and for a moment she felt unstable as if she might topple off.

“Head down with your elbows level with the bed,” Jeanette said.

Catherine obeyed so that now her bare bottom was elevated and pointing obscenely at the ceiling. Then the room fell quiet and all that could be heard was the two women breathing.

Then Jeanette said, “When I tell you to adopt the position, you will do so at once. Do you understand?”

“Yes Ma’am.” Catherine’s voice was strained.

“Any further resistance from you and I will require this submission once a month as training; or maybe even once a week. Do you understand me? It can happen.”

Catherine looked back and gaped, but quickly looked away.

Luckily Jeanette did not demand an answer and the first blow of the paddle came as a hard sting.

“Yah,” Catherine yelped.

Jeanette spanked her again.

“Oh Jesus,” Catherine wailed.

“It is harder this time isn’t it? The thing about Hardham is that it can always get worse,” Jeanette explained.

The third swat was enough to set Catherine to boil over with tears and yelling at each impact.

The spanking was hard but it did not last as long as before and after 15 swats Jeanette returned the paddle to the hook on the door.

“We are done for now. What you get next depends on you,” Jeanette said with a shrug.

“Yes Ma’am,” Catherine moaned.

Once Jeanette was gone Catherine settled down for some serious bawling until she was thoroughly cried-out.

*

The next morning Catherine was astonished at the condition of her bottom and turned every which way in front of the mirror for a better look. Unlike Melanie, she found that although she could certainly feel it where she sat, sitting down was more than possible, which got her thinking about how very much worse the cane might be.

Also, even though she could die of blushing as she remembered every nuance of her humiliation: the vigil facing the wall, her public exposure and finally the spanking from Jeanette with her bare bottom sticking up in the air; she felt a strange comfortable tingle somewhere inside. It reminded her of the one time she had been scolded by daddy and of an imposition she had been given at school by a teacher she had had a crush on. What was wrong with her?

She pressed at her sore bottom with her fingers with the compulsion of a child pressing on a gap in a tooth with her tongue. It was the same compulsion she had when reliving her shame.

Later that day, she took an odd pleasure from showing Melanie her bottom and comparing notes on her spanking. She even felt ‘a warm fuzzy feeling’ at the embarrassment of talking about it and wondered if this was what having a sister was like.

“Looks like you had a good work out,” Melanie chuckled, “But it’s not so bad. It’s better than a session with old Alexander. In fact after a good spanking I feel all soft and kind of forgiven, don’t you?”

This last comment hit a nerve and Catherine hastily covered up and changed the subject.

“So what about these courses then? Anything I should know?” she said quickly.

*

As the weeks followed Catherine’s work schedule was not too odious and the MBA she had taken a shine to was fully accredited and genuinely interesting.  She wanted to knuckle down, but the same rebellious streak that had got her into to trouble to begin with burned within her and as much as she was settling in, she also hated toeing the line like a good little girl.

To satisfy her sense of self she tried to show small hints of resistance, but sabotaging her course was too much like ‘cutting her nose to spite her face’ and any hint of displeasure from Jeanette had her hurrying to obey as her bottom itched.

Finally, she heard from Melanie that sometimes girls crept out and went to the pub or to meet boys. Neither appealed to her and anyway Melanie refused point blank to ride shotgun. However, it did occur to Catherine that she could slip away to make a forbidden phone call home.

As it was her bi-weekly call home was recorded and could usually be overheard. If she could just talk to daddy uninterrupted then she might get a few extras in the post or find out if he could pull any strings to get her out.

Getting out of the grounds was risibly simple and within half an hour she was in a phone box outside a shop. Across the road was a pub with half a dozen young men sitting on motorbikes outside.

“Daddy?” she said once the phone stopped ringing, “Daddy, are you there?”

There was a long silence and then a woman spoke, “Is that Catherine? I thought… well your father is away on business.”

Catherine recognised her father’s housekeeper.

“Can I take a message?” The woman asked.

Catherine suddenly realised what a pointless errand she had been on. Her father had already done all he could and wouldn’t be best pleased that she had skipped out and jeopardised her position.

“No, no it is alright. Tell him… tell him I’m okay.” Catherine put the phone down.

The walk back to Hardham took longer than she remembered and she was almost glad to see the place as she slipped back in behind the kitchen block.

As she reached the corridor leading to her room it suddenly felt like home and she smiled.

“Maybe I should have gone to the pub while I was out,” she said aloud as she stepped into her room.

“Maybe you should have,” Jeanette said.

Catherine gasped and looked in horror at the house mother sitting on her bed.

“I was…”

“Mr Alexander will see you tomorrow,” Jeanette growled.

To be continued.



5 Responses to “Cane and Consequence (Part 3 of 4)”

  1. I’ve been following along…
    Looking forward to the next installment!
    MrBB

  2. 2 darwinian

    Oh dear, that’s going to be a long wait, and a most uncomfortable ending guaranteed, and I’m sure you have a twist or two for your readers. But all good things must come to an end. And it’s the final part, a shame as it could run and run…….thanks for another good well written read.

  3. 3 Saram

    My heart sank right along with Catherine’s-lol

  4. 4 paul1510

    Damian,
    my comment as I reached the end was, ‘oh dear.’ 🙂
    Paul.

  5. 5 jeff

    This is great stuff! Very well written.


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