Abraham Heights: any other Saturday


sororityMelanie Crow eased herself through the door taking small careful steps. She knew there was another girl waiting and studiously avoided any eye contact as she left. It was a cinch that this new student of Roland Archer had heard everything and if Mel’s pain wasn’t written on her face, a blush certainly was.

Charlie had indeed been listening and now sat nervously chewing on her lower lip. She had heard that Roland Archer was a spanker, but her grades were slipping and the sorority took a dim view of such things; a very dim view indeed. Compared to what they might do, what was a spanking or two to perk up her studies or so she had thought? But now she had heard Archer in action she wasn’t so sure. Surely he couldn’t be worse than Catherine Marks et al. She gulped. From what she had heard and the way the way the other girl was walking she imagined Professor Archer had some bite after all.

Melanie Crow made the front door without looking back and every step was followed by a rapt Charlie teasing her teeth in a wince with every step. So absorbed was she in Melanie’s departure that she didn’t hear the professor until he spoke.

“Charlotte Coleman I presume,” he said.

Charlie jerked in her seat and quickly stood up. She turned to confront the rather ordinary looking man in a tweed jacket without tie and a smile reminiscent of a guidance counsellor. Charlie hated such people and made to swallow. Perhaps she should offer to come back another Saturday.

“Just Charlie,” she offered carefully.

She half expected the man to insist on Charlotte, he certainly looked the conservative type and she braced herself.

“Charlie it is,” he smiled more warmly and despite herself Charlie smiled back.

“I… I have come… that is…” she began awkwardly.

“Come and have some tea,” Archer said with a wink and offered her the room beyond the door with an outstretched arm.

Charlie drew her lips into a firm line and managed a nod and then with the merest assault of butterfly wings on the lining of her stomach she ducked her head and squeezed past her new tutor desperate not to make the least physical contact.


Donna felt silly. There was no other word for it. Here she was a 28-year-old college teacher standing in a dormitory housemother’s room in just her white cotton blouse, a bra and a pair of cutie short pink socks. She eyed her denim pants and white silk panties on the chair by the door trying to find the will to snatch them up and leave. There were many better ways to be spending her Saturdays than this.

She was still working up the nerve, or pretending to, when she heard Mrs Main returning and grimacing in panic made a scurry for the corner where she was supposed to be. Donna had only just felt the cool of the plaster at her forehead where she had most exactingly order to place it when the door opened and someone entered the room behind her. Just in time she remembered to clasp her hands neatly into the small of her back.

It could be anyone for all Donna knew, she didn’t dare turn to look. You are so… she winced as she berated herself… so whipped. The heat rose in her face and for the 10,000th time she ran the options through her head.

“Ah, Dr Warren, on time and in place I see,” Mrs Main said cheerfully. “And in position number one, you remembered. Good girl.”

“Yes Ma’am,” Donna said in a voice as close to surly as she dared.

Mrs Main frowned and her eyes narrowed.

“I think we will have your hands behind your head, with the elbows touching both walls,” Mrs Main said sharply.

Donna gulped and quickly complied.

“Yes Ma’am,” she agreed in a rather more respectful tone this time.

The act of lifting her arms also raised the hem of her blouse in back and her pert dusky bottom was revealed to the housemother’s gaze. It was a satisfying enough sight, but one she had seen often. To her it only signified one more of her charges learning her place.

As for Donna, she was wondering if after a week of not putting a foot wrong she had fallen at the last hurdle. What was wrong with her, she knew Mrs Main wouldn’t tolerate the slightest rebellion. The woman had her beat; literally. She felt rather lightheaded at the prospect of a harder session with the housemother and icy finger of dread clawed at her belly at the thought of the row of enema bags and other such accoutrements she had been shown on that first Saturday. She had been told then that she would endure extra suffering once a month or so or whenever she crossed the line. Otherwise she merely faced a spanking. God let this not be one of those Saturdays, please, please, please God, she silently prayed.

Mrs Main paused for long effect and then brusquely told Donna: “As you have been in on time every night this week and have so far complied with my instructions… I think… yes, just a maintenance spanking this morning.” Although Donna did not see it the woman nodded decisively and crossed the room to her writing desk adding, “Next week or the week after we will have a more serious session to keep you on your toes. I trust you will continue to behave and not add to that. It seems to have been working so far doesn’t it? Funny what you can do with the right incentive isn’t it?”

“Yes Ma’am.” Donna’s relief was palpable and she visibly loosened in the corner.

There was a long silence then and Donna could feel the pulse hammering in her head and the hush of quiet in her ears. The sounds beyond the room were faint and surreal now, belonging as they did to another world.

Then there was a rattle and a clunk followed by the sound of a draw or cupboard being opened.

“Alright Dr Warren, please come here,” Mrs Main said sharply.

Donna stole a rueful glance over her shoulder to see the housemother sitting in her favourite armless chair, her gingham draped thighs like two unyielding logs and the English teacher gulped. Mrs Main was holding a large black wooden hairbrush and as Donna watched, the formidable woman patted her lap and sadly beckoned to her diminutive tenant.


“What made you seek out my tutoring services?” Archer asked politely as he poured some tea.

Charlie set her mouth ready to answer and then swallowed back the words. It was a tricky question.

“I am well-known for getting results, but I am rather strict. Not many girls seek me out voluntarily. Most are sponsored by their families or their sorority,” Archer smiled pleasantly while Charlie composed herself.

The girl put all her apparent attention into the tea cup and blushed.

“It is like this Professor Archer,” she began. “I mean you have it really, my sorority… well you know… I wanted to address my grades before they really got on my case.”

“That is very commendable, but it doesn’t really answer my question does it?” Archer said kindly.

“No Sir, that is… well you see I am a bit of a coward and well… with a real incentive I wouldn’t want…” Charlie sighed and hunched over into herself as she wrung her hands before continuing, “That is I thought given your reputation that… well you really have no idea how rough the girls can get,” Charlie finished in all of a rush.

“Oh I think I do, but tell me, what is my reputation exactly?” Archer ended his question with a hard stare.

“You spank girls don’t you?” Charlie mumbled.

“As does your sorority,” Archer countered, “You think I will go easier do you?”

“No Sir but…” Charlie sighed, “Why don’t you explain how this works please Sir.”

Roland Archer smiled and slowly poured more tea into his cup for dramatic effect.

“It is really quite simple. You show me your work and I point out where you are going wrong and suggest better approaches. In some cases I will set work of my own and I warn at such times I am very demanding,” he said, his voice firm and paternal now. “But there are rules and consequences. Firstly, you will never ever be late, the penalties for tardiness are cumulative I am afraid and ultimately quite effective. Secondly, you will not answer me back or argue. I won’t dwell on that; suffice to say most young women run into trouble with me on this score sooner or later. It is a sign of the times I fear.”

He watched Charlie carefully for a response but she remained dutifully silent.

“Generally girls are punished for repeat mistakes and not listening to what they are told. This is the crux of my method… that is… zero tolerance. Make a mistake and you are punished. Make the same mistake and that goes double and so on,” he explained.

Charlie let her mouth form an O as she let out a slow breath. All the while her eyes were fixed on the middle distance as if seeing something he couldn’t see.

“The sorority’s punishments are all a bit arbitrary, designed to break a girl down I suppose. I need that too but… there is a consistency in your approach,” she said ruefully. “How do you punish exactly… I mean…?” she blushed.

“That all depends on the girl. No bottom left un-reddened I am afraid,” he chuckled, “But some girls respond to a sound spanking across my knee and others need a touch of the cane or a paddle or… well we will work that out as we go on,” he said reassuringly.

“Assuming it is necessary of course,” Charlie chipped in.

“Oh it will be necessary Miss Coleman,” Archer said sharply.

“But maybe just the prospect of…” Charlie put in hopefully, but she couldn’t say the words.

“Are you arguing with me Charlie?” Archer asked, his voice as arched as his eyebrows.

“Oh no Sir,” Charlie gasped.

Archer smiled, but the steel didn’t leave his eyes. “You see how easy it is to go astray?” he said.

Charlie firmly closed her mouth and nodded.

They sat in silence for a moment with Archer noisily stirring his tea as he waited for something. He hated these gaps in the conversation but one had to give a girl time to think.

“So Charlie, do you think you want to take this forward?” he said at last.

Charlie sighed and then very shyly said, “Yes Sir.”


Donna wondered if she had ever been spanked so hard. It was almost as if every encounter with Mrs Main so far had been a practice for this. The woman had the strength of 10 men or so it seemed then, for Donna had been bucking with all her might under the onslaught but so far her bottom had not dodged one spank.

Mrs Main had opted to hold Donna’s right wrist in the small of her back while the teacher steadied herself with the left against the leg of the chair. In any case Donna’s bare bottom was elevated to good effect and only her legs were semi-free to kick and cross ankles under the relentless blast of the spanking.

The biting sting of the brush where it struck her behind had begun harsh and quickly ascended to the heights of unbearable. Not that Donna was ready to submit. Instead she clamped her jaw and hissed out intermittent groans as she tried to ride the pain.

From Mrs Main’s point of view Donna’s failure to announce the landing spanks was a show of defiance; the girl must be getting used to it, she decided. All the same there were already two dark red ovals staining the woman’s pert bottom cheeks and as the punishment progressed the tender pads of soreness spread outward to encompass ever more of Donna’s bottom.

The housemother put the brush to the woman ever harder, biting both under her curves and then along the summits before returning to undermine the sitting area. The crack of the impacts came fast and loud so that even after just five minutes Mrs Main reckoned she must have landed four or five hundred spanks.

Finally Donna broke and let go with a “uhh-oooh” before settling on a rapid pained repeat of “Christ, oh Christ.”

“I am going to give you two spankings today,” Mrs Main said angrily, “Why are you being so stubborn?”

Bitch, Donna thought, but for some reason the unspoken sentiment made her feel ashamed.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Donna tearfully admitted the unspoken insult.

“Good girl, but you’re still having the extra spanking and we are not yet done with this one,” Mrs Main said firmly.

Maybe it was this promise or maybe it was just the kind word, but Donna spluttered out a sob and the floodgates opened. After that she could no more stop bawling than get off of the housemother’s lap. Not that the spanking was done. If Mrs Main had bothered to time it she would have known that the rest of the spanking lasted another eight minutes.


The sorority house was as lively as ever when Charlie arrived back from her meeting with Professor Archer. Davina Davis was talking animatedly on the phone in the hall and didn’t even give her glance, although Charlie’s bottom clenched all the same.

This went double when she saw what was happening in the lounge.

Her friends Anna Lee and Tammy Jacob were draped over the back of a couch with their tennis skirts turned up and their panties somewhere south of their knees. Their bottoms were already a healthy shade of red but Catherine Marks standing by them with a paddle looked far from finished admonishing them.

“How dare you enter the lounge in sports attire,” Catherine berated them.

“But we are playing tennis this afternoon,” Anna wailed.

Although Charlie couldn’t see her face, she could recognise that edge of tears voice. But the familiar small domed bottom was the real give away.

“Oh I don’t think so,” Catherine countered.

By way of punctuation she swatted first Anna and then Tammy with three paddle-strokes apiece. Both girls yelped their appreciation.

“What you are going to do when I am done with you is get your noses in the corner of this room and stay there for the rest of the afternoon as an example. Don’t you girls ever read the handbook?” she brought down another mighty swat to Anna’s vulnerable bare bottom, “No,” she swatted again, “Sportswear,” and again, “in the,” once more, “Lounge.”

This process was repeated with Tammy who really gave the impacts voice.

Charlie had seen enough and wincing in sympathy carefully slipped away and made her way upstairs. When a pledge mistress was in a spanking mood one never knew what would get picked up on. Besides, she had a handbook to read.


Donna cried long and hard in Mrs Main’s arms while the older woman soothed her.

“You don’t understand any of this, do you?” the housemother cooed.

“No Ma’am,” Donna sobbed and it was true.

She knew now she could leave and tell this woman where to get off but yet… the elusive thought slipped away and Donna began bawling more heartedly for a while.

“I meant it about that other spanking,” Mrs Main sighed.

“I know,” Donna said wistfully and sniffed as she brought her tears under control.

“But that comes later,” the housemother said, resolve returning to her voice. “Now I know a young lady who has corner time to do.”

“Yes Ma’am,” Donna sniffed and got achingly to her feet.

The long walk to her angular bar-less prison was unbelievably sore-making and her still exposed bottom flared with every step. Even without another spanking Donna knew she would be lucky to sit easily all week. Just in time for another Saturday with Mrs Main. Oh joy, she thought ruefully, this town is crazy.

AB ouch

*Sorority picture courtesy of TipTopper

12 Responses to “Abraham Heights: any other Saturday”

  1. 1 vlad

    It’s always good to see another Abraham Heights post. While Donna was relieved I am a bit disappointed that she didn’t get a special session with Mrs. Main since I have been looking forward, to seeing you write about one.

  2. 2 Pat

    Another wonderful addition to the Abraham Heights saga. A nice early Christmas present, thank you.

  3. 3 Jenny

    I really like Dr. Donna story. To be honest, I really miss old Abraham Heights stories. Because it was more embarrasing for Dr.Donna.

    For example:sisters without mercy. When Dr.Donna wanted see Miss Main. ”The Latino girl made a half turn to look at Donna, no doubt surprised that a member of faculty was in the same boat. Dr Warren blushed. So far Mrs Main had been fairly discreet about the unusual set-up. God I hope they’re not students of mine; Donna was horrified at the thought.”

    Other example is from the trouble with maintenance. ”It had been the third time she had tried to see Mrs Main but each previous occasion there had been other girls or someone else passing by and Donna just knew that if she was seen going in then everyone would know why she was there. Now finally the corridor was empty and Donna could not bring herself to knock.”

    • 4 DJ

      A fan of extreme mortification eh — well sometimes we need some development and pacing – watch this space. 😉

  4. Great to see you return to this series, DJ. I hope you keep finding inspiration for it.

  5. 7 Caroline

    Excellent.. No more?

  6. 11 mountforce

    We are looking forward though …

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