145 lines
9.1 KiB
Plaintext
145 lines
9.1 KiB
Plaintext
Mary stared back at the imposing nun with mixture of fear and resentment.
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"Yes, Sister. I heard you. And I am sorry." "Not quite as sorry as you
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are going to be in a moment, when I am finished with your friend Miss
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Moran!" Sister Callista turned back to Cassie, who was standing at the
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side of the chemistry teacher's desk. "Are you ready, yet, young lady?"
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she asked, striding to the blackboard. "Yes, S'ter," Cassie replied, her
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voice barely a whisper. The plump redhead stood next to the desk, one
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hand on it for support. She looked perfectly normal, her hair caught up
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in a navy blue headband and neatly brushed, her thin, navy blue serge
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jumper immaculate, the white blouse perfectly ironed, the navy kneesocks
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exactly to the bottoms of her knees,...perfectly normal until your eyes
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came to rest on the tops of her navy blue loafers. Her panties lay
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there...flopping off the sides of her shoes in a vulgar heap. Her white
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nylon half-slip was lying on Sister's desk, neatly folded. Cassie's eyes
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followed Sister Callista as she took the long pointer from the chalk tray
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and brandished it. She waved the black rubber tip under Cassie's freckled
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nose.
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"I have seen a lot of stunts in my day, Miss Moran, don't think I haven't.
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But this one takes the cake. Raspberry Fizzies in my Ehrlenmeyer flasks?
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Magnesium ribbon barbeques? Don't you realize someone might have been
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seriously burned? Don't you? Speak up!!" Cassie was paralyzed at the
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realization that this was actually going to happen. Everybody knew that
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the Senior teachers and the Principal were allowed to employ corporal
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punishment in "extreme" situations...everyone's parents had been asked to
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sign release forms. Everybody knew that it HAD happened. Every now and
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again a girl was called out of class and sent to "The Office", rejoining
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her class during the following period, usually red-faced and weepy,
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sitting gingerly. If it was one of the usual troublemakers, Janice Jacoby,
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for example, or Dottie Peters, anyone who had a few minutes to spare after
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class would crowd into the bathroom on that floor, because it was a sure
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bet that the insolent and unbowed "rocker" would be in there, panties down
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and skirt lifted, showing off her crimson bottom.
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But Mary and Cassie? They were class clowns, no doubt about it. But they
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were also good students, and good girls at heart, and no one ever *ever*
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dreamed they would be about to "get it"...and from Callista's pointer,
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worse yet. The Principal, Mother Marguerite, used a wide wooden paddle.
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It hurt like wildfire, they had heard, but nothing compared to the whippy
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sting of the long wooden pointer. Cassie started to cry.
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"I'm sorry, S'ter, I didn't think, I mean, it's last day of term, and we
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just wanted a little party, we didn't mean that anyone should get hurt, we
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didn't think..." "Exactly right, Miss Moran, you didn't think. But I have
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just the remedy for that, don't you know. Here it is, a simple formula:
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Bending a careless, disobedient girl over a desk and applying this (she
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waved the pointer) to her rear end increases the blood flow to the brain
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and helps her to THINK!!" Callista was storming around, waving the
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pointer, her long rosary clicking against her thigh with every step. Mary
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buried her face in her hands and cried along with Cassie. She had never
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been spanked at school, but she had been warned on a number of occasions
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that if she ever was, she could expect double at home. She knew there
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would be notes to take home to be signed, and she knew that there would be
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no signature on hers until mother had worn out her leather slipper on
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Mary's bottom. This was not the first time she wished she and Cassie had
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not scored high enough on Placement to be put in Callista's honors
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chemistry in their junior year.
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Damn Paula Lucas anyway. If she hadn't tried to pull her marshmallow off
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the end of the glass stirrer while the goopy, runny confection was still
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flaming, she wouldn't have burned her damn finger, and she wouldn't have
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screamed, and startled Callista into scurrying out of the supply room
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before they could hide everything. It didn't take much to find out who
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organized the Fizzies Party: Mary and Cassie had cheerfully owned up,
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figuring at most they would get a small detention. Mary shivered,
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remembering the shocked silence when Callista told them, in front of
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everyone, that they were to stay after class "to take a dozen each!"
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The nun was leaning down from her nearly six foot height, to murmur close
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to Cassie's ear. "Now, young lady, YOU are about to learn to think. Turn
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around and face the desk." Cassie started to cry audibly, but she obeyed
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right away. "Good, now smooth your uniform shirt down very tightly, pull
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it against the backs of your legs, yes, that's right, and then gather the
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sides of the skirt and pull them around toward the front. Yes, so the
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skirt is as tight and smooth as possible across your bottom, Miss Moran.
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Now bend over. No, keep your hands pulling your skirt tight. Just bend
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over from the waist and lay your head, your cheek, down on the desk.
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Correct! We see you can at least follow simple directions." Mary stared,
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horrified. With her slip off and her cotton panties down, the thin,
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tightly stretched serge would offer no protection at all from the sting of
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the pointer. Cassie's face was turned toward Mary, where she sat in the
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first row of desks, waiting her turn. Mary tried to smile at her friend,
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but knew it was a grimace instead. Cassie closed her eyes as Callista
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raised the pointer.
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HsssssssTHWICK!!!! Cassie screeched as the pointer slashed across the
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fullest part of her upturned bottom, straightening up and letting go of
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her uniform skirt to rub frantically at the worst sting she had ever felt.
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"No, S'ter, please no more!!" she sobbed, dancing from foot to foot.
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Callista had the nerve to crack a smile. "Surely you jest, Miss Moran! I
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have barely begun." She took the crying girl by the shoulder and led her
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back to the desk. She spoke quietly. "If, Miss Moran, you do not stay in
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position, and if you do not keep your hands on your skirt, I will make it
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my business to LIFT your skirt, and to ask Miss Gunderson to HOLD your
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hands, and we will start again from one...do I make myself perfectly
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clear?" Cassie sucked her breath in, as the awful thought of being
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spanked on her bare bottom by Sister Callista registered. She would never
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survive the shame of that, never. Not to mention the fact that her father
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would do it all over again, and probably on the front lawn in front of God
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and everybody. "Yes, S'ter, I'll be good, S'ter," she choked, gathering
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her skirt tightly again and bending over the desk, thrusting her stinging
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bottom up and out for her spanking.
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Mary had jumped up too at the rifle report of the first stroke, nearly
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upsetting the desk at which she sat, and crying out as if she had been
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struck. She stood now, hands pressed to her mouth, as if to stifle
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further exclamation.
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HssssssTHWICK!!! Another stroke...and, despite her best intentions, a
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repeat performance from Cassie. Mary's stomach turned as she watched her
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friend screech and rub her bottom, shaking her head and repeating "I'm
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sorry, I'm sorry, I can't..." over and over again. "Very well, you were
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warned. I don't think either one of you has the intestinal fortitude to
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take your punishment with grace and courage. So I am going to see to it
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that you at least take it with the least amount of trouble for me. Miss
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Gunderson...to the other end of the desk. NOW, please! And prepare
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yourself in the same manner as your friend. Hurry up! Panties all the way
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down, young lady!" Mary hurried, knowing delay would be disastrous. She
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stood, facing Cassie across the length of the teacher's desk, trembling.
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"Both of you, bend over. And stretch your hands out, yes, that's right,
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and clasp each other's hands tightly.
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There. I am going to lift your skirts, girls, and you will each get six
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on the bare."
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Mary and Cassie looked at each other, horrified, but trapped. Running
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away would serve no purpose but to increase the severity of their
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punishment, either at school, or at home, or--God forbid--at both places.
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They put their heads down, squeezing each other's hands, and cried. "And
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this time, if one of you breaks hold and gets out of position, BOTH of you
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will have your panties paddled at the next full school assembly.
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Understood?" This horror was too much to comprehend. It had only
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happened once in memory, and the disgraced girl had transferred away the
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very next week and had not been seen since. "Yes, S'ter," they said
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together.
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Callista took her sweet time about lifting each girl's skirt, rolling it
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carefully up onto the small of her back, exposing the full, round, firm
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bottoms of the teenagers.
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Both girls blushed and groaned in an agony of embarrassment, clenching and
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huddling their cheeks, trying to offer a smaller target. "The strokes
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will be given alternately, and remember what I said! I shall start with
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Miss Gunderson this time."
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Mary gasped and shuddered as Callista laid the cool pointer across her
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bottom, as if gauging the target. After what seemed like an hour, the nun
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split the air with her backstroke...
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