Donna Warren lay face down on her bed in a state of exhaustion. Her bottom felt like it had been reamed by a telegraph pole and the tight anal bud felt pepper-hot as it positively pulsed with pain. In fact this tender gem sat between two engorged hills of aching soreness and she felt like a tiny thing reduced to the red bottom looming up behind her.

She could still feel the tight sawing lines of two dozen cane strokes and how she had wept and begged under the onslaught. Mrs Main had been right; the thorough cleansing had been nothing to that.

Donna blushed at the thought of cleansing, never had she felt so utterly… humiliated wasn’t the word and embarrassed didn’t half cover it. Her mind seized upon the word ‘humbled’ and other words like ‘surrendered’ and… she sucked in a breath and let it out slowly. The phrase ‘carefree liberation’ popped into her head and Donna cruelly supressed it.

She felt emptied out, as if all her preconceptions of self and all her sins had been poured down a drain and she had been reformed anew. It was almost as if she were a blank slate waiting to be written upon.

Donna sniffed and wiped the dampness from her face as she flushed with shame. The walk back from Mrs Main’s room had been an ordeal in itself and the English teacher’s gait had drawn a good many smirks and stares as she had limped to her room.

It was quite possible that she would never ever sit down again, Donna thought ruefully as she shifted on the bed to try and get comfortable.

“I hate that woman, I hate her,” she cursed, slamming the mattress hard with her fist.

But her words lacked conviction or resolve and Donna knew in her heart that they were not true. But what exactly did she feel towards this woman? Nothing sexual, that was for sure, but she blushed as she replayed that thought in her mind. Her sex ached and not from any abuse by the housemother.

I need to be honest, she thought, this time more fiercely. Falling back on her academic training she turned her new life over in her mind. Okay I don’t hate Mrs Main, but what do I feel? She let her mind go blank and the words come.

Awe, respect, intimacy… the last one shocked her and she rolled it around in her head. She had never been so intimate with anyone before, was it sexual? Be honest she thought, you have a thing for spanking and always have. Living in Carlton House is a wet dream made real. She thought then about the lines of spanked girls and what she had seen; it had been better than a good lay.

Donna found a smile.

So it is not Mrs Main but the situation itself I find… she worked her mouth and dived back into her thoughts. It wasn’t that she hadn’t fantasised about being spanked but the reality was, well too real and it hurt. But that had led to other aspects. She thought about her utter surrender.

Superficially I want it, fundamentally I need it, she thought. Then she remembered a trick her father had taught her when she had been weighing up dumping a boyfriend.

“Imagine that you will never see him again,” he had said while sucking on his pipe in that wise way of his, “Perhaps, if you can bear it, think of him dead. What would you do to bring him back, can you bear life without him?”

Donna thought about Abraham Heights, Mrs Warren and all to look it squarely in that face. I must be mad, she decided, but heaven help me but I never want to leave this crazy place.

Suddenly and without warning Donna burst into tears, great buckets of them that went on and on until she was empty.

*

Roland Archer contemplated Melanie Crow’s bare bottom with an expert eye. His student was kneeling on the leather pouf with her hands on the floor. This, as ever, served to elevate her behind to full effect and roundly presented for correction.

As he took up the cane Archer noted some mottled red marks and some faint traces of bruises on the girl’s otherwise smooth flesh.

“Had a run in with your sorority sisters have you, or was it something more domestic?” he said casually, sharing his observation.

“Two tardies and a eh… smart mouth, Sir” Melanie answered confidentially.

It wasn’t that she wasn’t thoroughly embarrassed or exactly at ease with the thought of a sound thrashing from her tutor but she had signed up for it and there was no denying that today she was entirely deserving. Besides if her sister Anita found out she had reneged on her deal then there would be hell to pay. After all Anita had put her ass quite literally on the line to save Mel’s.

“I see,” Archer continued, “And the domestic situation?”

Was Professor Archer angling for something, Melanie wondered, what did he know? “Not that I know of,” she said.

It was hard to speak calmly in such a compromising position and the posture itself took some effort and that left her breathing audibly. Punishment from Archer sometimes demanded some athletic accomplishment.

Archer thought about his suspicion that his former student Anita and her younger Melanie sister were up to something. Could it be that mummy and daddy, not to mention the sorority didn’t know about Melanie’s bad grades? Not his business, was it?

“Tell me what are we in for today?” he asked changing the subject.

“Pardon, Sir,” Melanie said blinking.

“For what am I about to cane you and how many do you think you deserve?” Archer said sharply, enunciating every word.

“Oh that,” Melanie sighed and rolled her eyes.

“Yes that,” Archer rasped.

“Eh… I was late with my essay,” Melanie offered tentatively through nervous teeth.

“You were indeed and for the second time this month,” Archer said deflated. “Tell me, what does that require?”

“That I am punished, Sir,” Melanie offered meekly.

“How many strokes girl? Archer barked impatiently.

“Six,” Melanie suggested and then winced.

“Six extra for cheek you mean,” Archer chuckled.

“Ooh,” Melanie squealed, she never learned, “Perhaps 15…” she tried.

“Melanie,” he warned.

She closed her eyes and winced. Eighteen would have been nearer the mark and had she said that first he might have settled on that. But now if she offered it he might up-it some more. Did she dare ask for the 18 plus his added six or… she gulped, surely he wouldn’t make it 30? Oh Christ, if she got it wrong it could easily edge up to 36.

“T-twen-tee… four,” she said with a wince as if testing a bomb.

“Very well,” he said indulgently, “But one cheeky word or a foot out of place and I’ll add another six extras,” he told her sternly.

Melanie let her mouth hang open to aid breathing and braced herself. The cane cut her like a bitch.

“Ah,” she exclaimed.

Archer waited for the pink line to develop and puff up a little and then sliced in another. Melanie grunted angrily for this and immediately hoped that it didn’t count as attitude.

The third stroke was a little sharper and tears pricked at Melanie’s eyes.

Archer had decided on paying her out for a slow nine before having a pause. The fourth certainly made this point and Melanie rocked back as she let out a long slow hiss as she awaited the fifth. By the time he was finished this set, the second nine would be so much more effective.

Later on Melanie would do half an hour in the corner, on her own time of course, before he served up the extras in front of his next student. That would underline the need for her not to test him.

*

Fully cried-out Donna felt refreshed. One day she would write a paper on the catharsis of spanking, the thought tickled her and she found a laugh. So young lady, she told herself ruefully, you’re a girl who needs regular spanking hmm, but in the long run is Mrs Main the one to do it?

Obviously not, but on the other hand any situation like this was always going to be beyond her control, that was the nature of it. It was never going to work otherwise. So in fact she might not have a choice.

“I don’t have the courage to just surrender to it, I have to be made to give in,” she whispered earnestly.

This revelation filled her with dread. She couldn’t cope with another session like today’s, she just couldn’t. She felt a surge of panic as if she was falling, but adrenaline wasn’t the only hormone to stir her and she felt an extra throb in proximity to her tender bottom.

At the end of the semester she might need other accommodations, she knew now that any pretence of an exit before then was doomed. She knew too that she might even see out the year, assuming of course that her bottom didn’t fall off. She winced and her hand stole to her behind for a quick rub.

But what then, a lonely rental in town while she tried to make new friends, for some reason she thought of the Heavers and their current lodger? As she mused she broke off to reach for some cold cream on her bedside and grabbed a great handful.

Still face down on the bed, her buttocks slid smoothly through her hands as she massaged them. The small pain was addictive and with her fingertips and nail ends she teased the bumps and welts she found there. With more cream she extended her caress to deeper places as she moaned.

“I wonder if there are any other traditional families in town looking for a lodger?” she croaked in attempt to distract herself from what she was doing.

But as she found her wet place she thought of Paul Heaver and the spankings she had witnessed; tame compared to Mrs Main’ handling of her, perhaps almost fun.

Two freshman girls in the hallway nearby heard a guttural as if someone was trying to supress some pain. They grinned.

“Someone must be having a little talk with Mrs Main,” the blonde giggled.

“A long talk,” the brunette said ruefully, her own bottom clenching as her hands found it. Some memories were too recent to be amusing.