The Sinclair Method (part 12)


1950 AliceOur story began here.

By the time the car pulled out of the drive Alice was ready as she had been instructed. After a long night of contemplation her mind was made up to it, she was going to be severely punished as she deserved. She had fallen short of the high standards she had set for her girls and now she too must pay the price.

The way to a girl’s soul is through her bottom, Alice thought ruefully.

She had arrived at her sanguine state of mind after a punitive ordeal that had begun with almost two and a half hours standing with her nose in the corner while the throbbing burn in her bottom halfway subsided. Halfway because after a night sleeping on her tummy it still ached somewhat and was jolly sore to the touch.

Alice had also been instructed to write out 400 times ‘well brought up young ladies who smoke will be soundly spanked on their bare bottoms.’ She had forgotten how humiliating and soul focussing such an exercise was.

“Alice, promise me you will give up smoking,” Muriel had urged her the night before when she had come to collect the set lines.

“I’ll try, I mean I will,” she had wailed, “Only…”

“Promise and know this, if you do give your word I will punish you as I have never punished anyone if you break it,” Muriel had continued sternly. “I mean it. You are my best student and one day… well, just remember we have standards girl.”

Alice knew then that she might only promise to try, but it was not her way.

“I promise,” she said earnestly. God she had missed this clarity.

“Good girl,” Muriel said eagerly, “But you know tomorrow…”

“I know,” Alice sighed, “And I know I deserve it Ma’am.”

After a fitful sleep the morning had come and so too had the true punishment. Now she was ready.

Alice took one more look in the mirror and took a deep breath. She was wearing only a tennis shirt over a brassiere and booby socks with newly whitened tennis pumps. It was a ridiculous ensemble devoid as it was of any coverage between her hips and ankles, and so very shaming.

Of course that was the point, she thought, now tugging at the front of her shirt to cover the neat dark triangle at the top of her thighs. God it had been so long since… The knock at the door was like a death knell and summoned her to her doom.


The worst part of her parade of contrition was that in the last week Alice, with Muriel’s help had finally engaged a cook. The woman had worked for Muriel’s people before and was well familiar with the Sinclair Method, but it was mortifying to Alice that a woman she hardly knew and an employee yet was about to witness part of her shame.

Still at least they had yet to engage a live in maid or a daily, both of whom would have been around at this time if they had.

Alice took a deep breath and descended the stairs to where Muriel was waiting to lead her out to the woodshed.

“Oh my, that is the sorest behind I have seen in many a year,” said the cook from somewhere behind Alice, she sounded awestruck and Alice blushed knowing that the behind in question was hers and very much on display under the hem of her shirt.

To tough it out Alice half turned and gave a shy smile.

“I had it coming Mrs Stevens,” she said and blushed a little more.

“I should hope you did,” the cook said earnestly and shook her head, “You girls, such a handful.”

Alice wanted to protest that she was the governess, but today she felt very far from it.

“Come along Alice,” Muriel chided her, “the woodshed is waiting.”

Alice responded with a long slow breath and then with a rueful pout followed Muriel out into the sunshine.


The birds tweeted incongruously while Alice gathered switches and as she laboured in the morning sunshine with an unfamiliar chill around her legs and bottom she felt a lightheaded disconnect with the world around her. It was a kind of liberation and for the first time Alice understood something of the naturist she had read about in a magazine once.

Then she saw the woodshed up ahead and the winding path that took them inexorably there.

“I was up early this morning,” Muriel told her, “To make some arrangements you understand. I wasn’t best pleased that you have neglected this important asset. I gather none of the girls except Mary have even made this trip.”

“No Ma’am,” Alice said solemnly, it was true. Had she been failing the girls then?

For a moment she was overridden with such things, a useful distraction from her impending fate, but one that did not last one step beyond the threshold.

The collecting of switches was a traditional American custom and not to observe it was something close to sacrilege, but next to what awaited her that punishment was positively gentle. For inside were three buckets, each holding half a dozen birch rods bundled as expertly as any European jailhouse. Here too at half a yard long and complete with drilled holes was a good old American paddle. Alice could only hope that the razor strop alongside it was just for future use on the girls because if they were all for her then she could kiss her bottom goodbye or at least count on eating her meals standing up for a year or two.

Alice was still blanching with shock when she saw what else had been assembled on the tool bench at the back. Next to an old Belfast enamel sink were a bucket, a funnel, a large hot water bottle and a long length of tubing. There was no doubt what they were for and her eyes were wide with apprehension.

Following her gaze Muriel nodded grimly.

“From young adulthood I was trained in such things and my mentor was rather keen on abrasives,” the older woman grimaced. “But no one can doubt their efficacy.”

“But…” Alice gaped and began shuffling nervously from foot to foot.

“Don’t worry, simple carbolic will suffice, stings a bit but quite cleansing and you do need a cleansing after putting those dirty things in your mouth,” Muriel sighed.

“My mouth,” Alice iterated.

“It’s a symbolic cleansing,” Muriel said in amusement. “The other end will serve as well.”

Alice let her mouth hang open in defeat and nodded. This was going to be worse than she thought.

She had just steeled herself for the ordeal when Muriel pulled her away and lead her to the sawhorse.

“Not so fast,” Muriel chuckled, “First we have to put those switches to work on your tender bottom so they don’t go to waste. Besides, the saw horse puts you in a good position for what comes next.”

The switch was a bitch but nothing she hadn’t encountered before and she was for once grateful for the distraction. So walking forward she bent over and lowered herself down onto the crosspiece of the horse. It was hard beneath her belly and with her head right down her bottom seemed too big and elevated.

It took a moment for Alice to get ‘comfortable’ and she had to steady herself by resting her elbows on her thighs under the crossbar of the sawhorse. She was just about to lament how self-conscious she felt when the first snick-flick of the switch descended. Like a series of electric shocks Alice jerked and squealed girlishly as Muriel expertly plied the switch across her exposed upturned bottom.

The burn was all the worse for tender bruises from the previous night’s spanking and Alice began to wonder how she had ever coped under Muriel’s tutorage.

“Oh Ma’am, omigod, jeez,” and the like spewed form her mouth as she bucked in place under the sting.

“There are four or five good switches here and it would be churlish not to give each one a dozen or two goes on target,” Muriel said casually.

In truth the Sinclair Method usually called for a lot more but Alice was beginning to suspect that the first part of her day was going to be largely symbolic to put her in her place. Some place, she thought ruefully, even this light punishment had tears pooling at her eyes and trickling down her cheeks.


Alice lay bent over and prone as she gently sobbed. The switching had well and truly rekindled the spanking of the night before and on top of that she could feel every welty line of fire as it continued to throb from the top of her cleft down to where her bottom curves met her thighs.

“That’s the way,” Muriel cooed, “Now for something interesting.”

Alice tried to look back over her shoulder as the sounds of water filling a bucket followed the scrape of metal at the sink. The metallic glug seemed to go on for ages and Muriel was actually humming to herself as she worked.

Alice always hated this kind of punishment, well hated it more than the rest anyway, but at least she consoled herself with the knowledge that this time it would be a private affair, which had not always been so during her training.

Then at last she felt the cold nozzle against her anus and her breathing became ragged with panic as she wriggled.

“I am just going to ease this in a little more, that’s it,” Muriel soothed.

Alice went wide around the eyes as she imagined she was accommodating a bull’s pizzle; a little more my… she screwed up her face and tensed up, quite literally my… the rest of the angry thought was literally washed away.

“Relax,” Muriel commanded her, “relax or I will spank you.”

The threat was enough and sudden she was open and something filled her to full. However, that was only the beginning, she realised, the real delivery was yet to come.

“Oh, oh, aaaaaah,” Alice groaned as the water poured into the funnel.

The tube was long but not long enough to delay the sudden burning flood that throbbed, pumped and moved in her innards.

“Muriel, M-m… ooh, Ma’am, that’s… that’s enough,” Alice gasped.

But Muriel continued until the carefully measured amount had been administered.

Alice responded by gripping the sawhorse and gasping herself cross-eyed as the deep filling burn began to take hold.

“Now you just stay like that a while, I’ll be back,” Muriel said wiping her hands and leaving her alone.

To Alice’s dismay the door was left wide open and she prayed no one would see her like this.


The cramps and spasmodic discomfort had made the 20 minutes of waiting for Muriel to return seem like days. Just about then she would have done absolutely anything she was told.

When finally she heard someone behind her she gave a little sob of relief.

“Now don’t you fret Miss Bowman,” Mrs Stevens said in a maternal tone.

“Mrs Stevens,” Alice gasped, “What…?”

“Hush now, Mrs Baxter sent me,” the cook said, “she’ll be along later.”

Alice wanted to crawl away and just die as Mrs Stevens helped her up. But that was only the beginning. The woman made no effort to move as Alice hopped from one foot to the other and finally dashed for the undergrowth.

“Feeling better?” Mrs Stevens asked when Alice returned.

Alice nodded, her face so red and hot she would have gratefully melted.

“Now Miss Bowman, are you ready for another?” the cook asked holding up the funnel and tube.

Alice gaped. “But…”

“Over my knee now and we’ll get started,” Mrs Stevens said, now sitting on a stool by the sink.

“If you think I am going to… why you are just staff here,” Alice snapped in a shrill voice.

“Oh dear, Mrs Baxter said you might take that attitude,” the cook sighed and as Alice watched she took up the paddle off the bench and beckoned Alice to her.

“You’re not going to…” Alice gulped, hastily looking around for an escape.

The cook shrugged and said, “Mrs Baxter said it was up you but if you didn’t cooperate she would postpone your punishment until tomorrow when Katherine was around to help. She said you would look cute standing in the corner downstairs in front of the other girls.”

“Tell me Mrs Stevens, you didn’t used to be a Sinclair girl did you?” a mortified Alice asked ruefully.

“Once a Sinclair girl always a Sinclair girl,” the cook grinned.

Alice winced and allowed herself to be tugged forward by the arm and deposited crosswise over Mrs Steven’s knee.

“Now for giving me some attitude you are going to get a nice long and good sound spanking,” the cook said cheerfully, “Hell, I have missed this.”

The word ‘this’ cumulated in the impact of a stiff paddle right where Alice sat and she shrieked. The woman was a devil, Alice thought in horror, but the spanking had begun in earnest and Mrs Steven’s wondered if they could hear the woman yelling all the way to town.

“Alright, alright, I’ll take your damn enema,” Alice wept.

“Oh I know you will, two or three before I am done,” Mrs Stevens chuckled, “But first you have that spanking coming and do please give me some attitude about it, please. It is all I ask.”

“Ooh,” Alice wailed through gritted teeth, her bottom really didn’t need the extra help, not today.

I’ll never smoke again, she promised the universe, but she knew that was the least of her sins. This was about standards, the bedrock of the Sinclair Method, and her failure to meet them.

To be continued.

2 Responses to “The Sinclair Method (part 12)”

  1. 1 paul1510

    sometimes I worry about you, you are aptly named. 😉

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