Tcheser began this story, writing a one-off and posting it to the
old Strip-Searched group as "Strict High School." Then, with
permission, Father Jim picked it up and, over the course of four
months, wrote and posted a long, multi-part continuation under the
same title. In 2005, Jim gave me his approval to revise, edit, and
finish the saga. Much of what is contained in the extended story
that Jim produced has been included below, though I have taken the
liberty of developing several of the characters along somewhat
different lines than was originally intended -- as well as adding,
deleting, and re-writing as seemed best. Of course, I had the
advantage of having the whole story in front of me before I posted
any of it. The "conclusion" (so to speak), Part 7, is entirely my
own. As is my habit, the "ending" is not really the end, but, in
the Joe Doe tradition, allows for still more indignities in the
future.
The biggest problem early on was what to do about the set-up. Jim
had used Tcheser's story as his opening segment, but, when I
inquired, Tcheser declined to participate, since he "didn't approve
of the direction" that Jim had taken the story. Some set-up being
essential, however, I summarized and thoroughly re-wrote a portion
of the opening (reducing more than 13 KB to less than 3) and
labeled it "Prologue." To distinguish the current story from
either of the versions of "Strict High School" that preceded it,
I have changed the title. Nevertheless, Tcheser deserves credit
for the original idea.
******************************
HICKORY STICK HIGH
by
C. Lakewood and Tcheser
Prologue: How It Began
Alexandra Palmer was the youngest high school principal in the
county and, therefore, under close scrutiny. So, when Hickory
High began to experience record levels of rowdiness, tardiness,
absenteeism, theft, and even vandalism, she was desperate to
restore discipline, regardless of how draconian her measures had
to be.
She appointed twelve hulking seniors -- a sort of "Dirty Dozen"
-- as hall monitors, giving them white web Sam Browne belts and
the authority to patrol the halls between classes and during free
periods, guard the doors, and make students toe the line generally.
On duty, a monitor would be allowed to stop anyone and demand to
see a hall pass; no pass meant summary corporal punishment, either
by her or by the vice-principal, Richard O'Shea.
From the beginning, everything seemed to work splendidly.
Discipline was up, delinquency down, and Alex was ecstatic.
But then she herself was apprehended without a pass and
unceremoniously hauled before the bristly vice-principal.
He wouldn't hear any excuses or consider any mitigating factors.
For her first offense, she got a brief hand-spanking. But there
would be other times...many other times. She had a lot on her mind
and was often caught without a pass or late for some appointment
and marched off to O'Shea's office, where she was reprimanded and
spanked -- bare bottom and with increasing severity.
Punished as though she were a common student. Humiliating! And
with all those thugs leering.... (You could practically hear them
drool.) She'd been habitually disdainful and authoritarian, but
now continually found herself grasping the other end of the stick,
at the mercy of a chauvinist subordinate and a mob of hooligans
with badges.
She attempted to find a way out, but was thwarted at every turn.
She tried calling the whole thing off, but that proved impossible.
The monitors had begun taking their orders from O'Shea and were
totally outside her control -- as was O'Shea himself (who had
"connections"). She tried hiding in her office, but, every time
she missed being someplace she should have been, she was declared
a "truant."
She even tried playing hooky...once.
When she got to school the morning after that absence, she was
relaxed and optimistic...for a moment or two. Then she was
waylaid by the goon squad and dragged off to see O'Shea.
He scoffed at her undocumented excuse. Though she claimed to have
been sick, she could produce no note from a parent or doctor, and
so was, by definition, AWOL.
Through O'Shea's strict adherence to the letter of the rules and
liberal use of fuzzy logic, she soon found herself stark naked,
bent over, and sentenced to twenty swats with her own hardwood
paddle.
She wondered if things could possibly get any worse.
******************************
HICKORY STICK HIGH
by
C. Lakewood and Father Jim
Part 1: The Biter Bit
That first swat of the paddle stung more than Alex could have
imagined. She shrieked, bobbed up, and grabbed her smarting
backside.
Being bare from the waist down for a hand-spanking was one thing,
but she now stood totally nude, hopping from foot to foot, heedless
of the boys leering at her. Later on, she would blush hotly at any
mention of this performance, but, for now, all she was concerned
with was somehow surviving nineteen more swats without permanently
losing either her wits or her ability to sit.
(Meanwhile, the word having spread, apparently by jungle telegraph,
two more monitors drifted in to watch the show.)
O'Shea ordered her back into position. When she eventually
complied, he immediately gave her another one. Again, she
yowled and did the dance of pain. Angered by the delay, O'Shea
bent her over again, and she got three more swats in quick
succession. Once again, she lurched up, dancing and rubbing.
"This will certainly not do!" O'Shea exclaimed, "If you cannot
take your punishment like a woman, then I am forced to make you
take it like a child!"
That said, he dragged the hapless principal by the elbow over to
a chair, sat down, and pulled her across his lap, just as he had
done often enough in the last few weeks.
SMACK!
"That's ONE!" The first swat fell upon her already reddened
backside.
Alex was beside herself. One? No, he just couldn't start over!
SMACK!
"That's TWO!"
He paused and regarded the paddle with a scowl, finally flinging
it down. "This is too awkward; I can't use it properly in this
position." He gestured to one of the boys. "Peters, bring me
the old slipper that you'll find in the bottom left drawer of my
desk."
When he received the new weapon, he began laying it on with a
vengeance. He knew he couldn't swing as powerfully in this new
position, and the slipper was considerably less brutal than the
paddle, but that suited him. The spanking could be prolonged now,
to achieve an even greater psychological effect. Determined not
to let Missy Palmer off lightly, he "resumed" the count.
SMACK!
"That's ONE!"
By the fifth new swat, Alex was bawling like a naughty child. She
had suffered through many painful spankings over the last few
weeks, and had been driven to tears over and over, but this was
different. It was painful, of course, especially since the first
seven swats didn't count. But, even more, it was juvenile and
humiliating. (And she was naked!) Despite the particular
intensity of the pain and humiliation, however, she found that
this spanking was having a strange effect on her; she was
involuntarily grinding her crotch down onto O'Shea's knee.
But, at least, she just knew things couldn't get worse.
Could they?
She had been bawling and kicking like a child throughout the whole
ordeal. The way she flailed about displayed every part of her
anatomy to the spectators -- and she knew it...Alexandra Palmer,
living sex-ed class mannequin.
As if this humiliation weren't bad enough, just as O'Shea had
counted off swat number "18," there was a pro forma knock at the
door, and it swung open. Through her tears, Alex was able to make
out...oh god!...her secretary, Mrs. Hester Dobson. The woman hated
her, and, more than anyone, should be ecstatic that she was being
disciplined like a naughty child. Indeed, Mrs. Dobson's expression
was one of smug satisfaction. That "tsk-tsk" look burned Alex more
deeply than the pain of the slipper.
"So sorry to bother you, Mr. O'Shea, but the deputy superintendent
is on the phone and wishes to stop by and see Principal Palmer
this afternoon. It's almost twelve, now. Would, say, 2 o'clock
be good?"
"Yes, Mrs. Dobson, our principal should be quite ready to meet Mrs.
Lago at two. Send my regards to my uncle."
"I will, sir. And, by the way, Mr. O'Shea, I've found that the
perfect finish to the sound spanking of a miss-high-and-mighty is
some quality bare-bottomed corner time during which she can think
about the error of her ways. I'd say half an hour would do the
trick."
"Yes, so right you are, Mrs. Dobson. Thank you! Capital idea! It
surely will do Alex's humility some good if she has to show off her
rosy derrière to anyone happening by my office for the next half
hour."
Mrs. Dobson exited, and O'Shea resumed his task.
"I hate interruptions! Now, where was I? Oh, yes! SMACK!
"That's ONE!"
******************************
O'Shea had thoroughly enjoyed putting his principal through her
painful paces, but it was near lunchtime, and he was getting
hungry. He decided, therefore, to wrap things up. He clamped
his leg down across hers, pinning her in place...and then laid
on 19 more strong smacks. And it was over.
He rose and dumped Alex painfully onto the floor. She lay there,
sobbing and gently rubbing the outer edges of her punished bottom,
while he regarded the damp spot on his knee with a mixture of
amusement and distaste.
School policy dictated a thorough medical exam following any really
severe corporal punishment. And, being a stickler for procedure,
he picked up the phone and called the school nurse, Tawanda Johnson.
Nurse Johnson was somewhat miffed by the call; after all, it was
lunchtime. But her mood changed abruptly when she heard the
identity of her patient and the reason why she was needed. She
grabbed her medical bag and made her way to O'Shea's office
without delay. She was going to have quite a good time putting
Miss Prudence McPrude in her place.
Upon arriving, Tawanda, though momentarily taken aback to find the
principal weeping on the floor, wasted little time. She had two of
the boys lift Alex and hold her up for inspection. Tawanda then
squatted down to check the state of the principal's bottom and was
interested to discover that, though it was an angry, mottled red,
it had actually sustained no real damage; O'Shea was obviously a
true expert. She noted down her findings for the official school
records and then used a digital camera to snap half a dozen shots
of Alex, front and back. Though mortified, Alex was too browbeaten
to mount more than a feeble and totally ineffective protest.
And that was just the beginning.
The nurse next ordered Alex to bend at the waist and grab her
ankles. "Helped" by two of the boys, she complied. Meanwhile,
Tawanda took a moment to enjoy the view, before snapping on latex
exam gloves and greasing up the fingers of her right hand. The
exam was about to move into the next phase.
******************************
"Okay, Principal Palmer, I need you to be a good girl now. Reach
back and spread your little red caboose for me!" Alex's face
colored darker than her bottom.
"Oh, god! Not that!" Alex thought.
"Look, if you don't want to cooperate, I'm sure these boys would be
glad to lend a hand...so to speak." Alex sighed in resignation and
reluctantly reached back, grabbed her flaming butt-cheeks, and
pulled them apart for the nurse's inspection, though she was so
distraught that the boys had to hold her up. She grunted and
moaned, alternately, as Tawanda, grinning, inserted first one,
then two, then three fingers deep into her rectum.
As this indignity progressed, Alex was becoming increasingly
agitated. She rose up onto her tiptoes, whimpering. She'd
never thought of her bottom hole an erotic area, but was now
beginning to reconsider. "Oh, god!" she thought, "I've got to
stay in control. I just can't cum in front of these animals...."
Finally, Tawanda muttered ambiguously, pulled her fingers out, and
stripped off her glove. Alex's relief was short-lived, however,
for a large, cold rectal thermometer was immediately corkscrewed
into her dilated rectum.
The instrument was actually meant for livestock, and Tawanda kept
adjusting its precise placement as the minutes crawled by. Alex
felt light-headed; she began to hallucinate, imagining that this
is what it must be like being butt-fucked by some well-hung stud.
"Stay in control!" her mind was screaming. "Don't cum! Don't let
them see you cum!"
Tawanda removed the thermometer and considered it. "A little high,
but not unexpected," she chuckled. "Now, lie down on the floor, on
your back. Yes. Boys, I need you to stand in for the stirrups we
don't have. Hold her legs firmly, feet up, knees bent, legs spread
really wide. Great. Perfect."
She put on a new glove and knelt down to get a close look at Alex's
crotch. "Whee-eu! What a wet, nasty patch of hair you've got
there. Well, that'll just have to come off. I can't examine you
properly through that mess. I'll cut it as short as I can with
scissors now, Alex, and you can come by my office later so I can
shave you."
"Tawanda, please don't," Alex begged.
"Let's get the name thing straight right now," Tawanda said,
snipping away. "I call you 'Alex,' and you call me 'Nurse
Johnson' or 'ma'am.' Right?"
"Y-yes, ma'am, but...."
"No 'buts,'" Tawanda said, while merrily reducing Alex's luxurious
pubic hair to a stubble. "O-kay. NOW we can get on with it...."
She paused and considered Alex's pussy, which was drooling.
"Doesn't look like I'm gonna need no extra lube, does it, boys?
So here it comes, girl, I 'magines you more'n ready for it." (As
Tawanda's libido increased, her grammar tended to deteriorate.
Normally, she would have mitigated that, but she was having much
too good a time to bother now.)
She proceeded to torment Alex's swollen G-spot with her fingertips
and tease her clitoris with her thumb. She deliberately took her
right to the edge...and left her there...over and over. Finally,
the demands of Alex's body overcame both her mental restraints and
Tawanda's measured approach. She went rigid and began babbling as
she started cumming...and cumming...and cumming....
Her audience was fascinated to watch her spasm and twitch through
a series of forced orgasms while impaled on the nurse's fingers.
******************************
The examination being over at last, O'Shea thanked the nurse and
the boys for their help and sent them on their way. As he'd
promised, he ordered Alex to the corner, face first, nose deep.
She really didn't need to be told twice -- she welcomed the corner
as the nearest thing to a hiding place that she was likely to get
for a while. O'Shea ordered her to interlock her fingers behind
her head and keep them there -- no butt-rubbing allowed. It was
now 12:30, so she would stand there, sniffling quietly, until 1:00.
And then she would have to pull herself together for her meeting
with the deputy superintendent.
Was there any escape from this nightmare?
******************************
That half hour stretched out seemingly forever. Not only did her
bottom burn fiercely, and she was forbidden to comfort it, but no
less than 2 male teachers and 7 students -- 3 girls (who might have
had legitimate reasons) and 4 more monitors (who clearly didn't) --
saw fit to visit O'Shea's office during that half hour. It was
the second male teacher, Tom Adkins, the boys' swim coach, that
caused Alex the most consternation.
God knows the students were bad enough. At first all of them
seemingly ignored Alex and went about their business (real or
feigned) with O'Shea, but he wasn't going to have that. So,
while he busied himself signing their forms or scheduling their
whatever, he directed them to chat with their principal. And
she was forced to respond to each one, choking back a sob and
replying, "Hi, Barbara" or "Hi, Sam...." And, "Oh, yes, I
learned my lesson, thanks for asking!" Two of these students
she had personally spanked herself, so their "concern" was all
the more humiliating.
Tom Adkins' visit, though, was absolutely excruciating. She had
shot him down quite cruelly in front of the entire faculty during
the last Christmas party. He had merely asked her to end the
evening with him over coffee at a nearby bistro. Instead of
politely saying no, Alex (her natural arrogance fueled by rather
too much holiday liquor) had gone into a loud rant about macho
creeps who didn't know their place.... Tom had slunk away,
humiliated and furious.
Tawanda had immediately filled him in as to what was happening in
O'Shea's office, and he in turn had lost little time in making his
way there with a trumped-up excuse about the swim team's uniforms.
He didn't go right in, but instead lingered a while, watching Alex
through the window in the office door. He smiled to see her, bare
naked and blushing all over, with her butt, of course, a darker
crimson (making her even more attractive than usual). Because she
had been forbidden to rub herself, she was surreptitiously shifting
her weight from one foot to the other and slightly bending her
knees, in an effort to work her butt cheeks and assuage their
burning. Tom was therefore treated to the sight of those wriggling
scarlet cheeks bobbing back and forth, up and down. When he
couldn't watch any more without arousing more than just suspicion,
he went in and greeted both of his superiors cheerily.
Alex blushed three shades deeper. Of all the people to see her
this way, why him? And it turned out even worse than she'd
feared. Instead of openly gloating, he seemed to be nothing but
considerate, apologizing for the interruption, hoping that she
would feel better soon, and, finally, adding that he was sorry that
she'd needed to be punished. (Was he really trying to be kind...or
cruel, in a subtle way?) After he left, she had the awful
realization that she'd have to face ALL the faculty, sooner or
later. Her tears began to flow again.
And she had only an hour to prepare herself for the deputy
superintendent, Mrs. Lago.
******************************
HICKORY STICK HIGH
by
C. Lakewood and Father Jim
Part 2: Revelations
When the half-hour corner time was up, O'Shea ordered Alex to
dress quickly and remove herself from his office, as if she were
a mere inconvenience.
She was most happy to oblige, but found that her pantyhose, bra,
panties, and shoes had disappeared, and she hesitated, irresolute.
O'Shea barked, "Hurry up, girl.... Or do you want seconds?"
Alex, having apparently learned at least one lesson, held her
tongue and got dressed in what clothes remained to her.
(In fact, it had been during the slippering that her things had
been passed around, each boy taking a good whiff of each item
before handing it on, all to the background accompaniment of
Alex's shrieks and sobs.)
Having dressed in blouse and skirt, Alex was about to leave
the office when O'Shea stopped her by clearing his throat
theatrically. She knew what he expected and gave it to him.
From her knees, she choked out, "Th-thank you, Rick...um...Mr.
O'Shea, for p-punishing me; I-I deserved it...." With that,
she was allowed to leave.
Making her way toward her own office, she walked rather stiffly,
each step bringing new agonies to her tortured bottom. She was
also agitated to be barefoot. Without the benefit of her heels,
she was shorter than the average teenage girl, and it made her
nervous. Besides, she was sure that the entire school knew all
about her spanking and that damn "medical," and therefore she
tried hard to avoid direct eye contact with anyone. Both the
students and teachers, however, were having none of it, and each
passerby greeted the hapless principal with mock concern and a
smirk. Alex noticed a large crowd gathered at the main trophy
case, and, her natural nosiness winning out over her temporary
inclination to avoid people, she went to investigate.
There were her panties, pinned up prominently on the back wall of
the case. To make matters worse, written across the seat was:
Principal Alexandra Palmer
20 swats bare naked
for ditching school
Alex was mortified and, momentarily, stunned. Then she realized
that she was standing there, absentmindedly rubbing her bottom for
all to see. She rather lamely began acting as if she were
smoothing her skirt. When she turned to make her way to her
office, her first thought was that every eye in the hallway was
focused on her. Her second thought, which came after only a short
delay, was that she didn't have a hall pass.
Her bare feet pitty-patting on the terrazzo floor, she abandoned
her dignity completely and scurried the last twenty feet to the
relative safety of her outer office.
After pausing a moment to collect herself, she turned to Mrs.
Dobson, from whom she might get at least a modicum of sympathy,
but she was met by a smug smirk.
"D-did you see that, Hester? They...they have my-my underwear on
display!"
"Yes, I know, dear. It was my idea. I thought in keeping with
your strict new program of cracking down on truancies, it would
do the students good to have an object lesson...to see what
happens to someone who ditches -- even someone in...'authority.'
Why, is there a problem?"
Alex resented the condescending tone, but she was still too
browbeaten to object openly to that.
"Problem? They're my private things, goddamn it!"
"Well, first of all, I'd say they're not so private now. You
should have seen the crowd gathered in the boys' restroom -- the
'Principal's Panties Committee,' I think they called themselves.
I disbanded them and confiscated your panties. You should be glad
they're under lock and key. Secondly, you should clean up your
language before somebody has to wash your mouth out with soap."
"But-but...Mrs. Lago's due any time now. What if she sees?"
"I, for one, hope she does. It will do her good to learn that
corporal punishment still has its place in our schools!"
"Yes, yes, I agree, but not for school principals!"
"If a girl is going to act naughty and flout the rules, she needs a
sound spanking, principal or not! Why, you're living proof. I'll
bet you won't even think of ditching again, will you? You were
naughty; you got spanked; end of discussion!"
With that, Mrs. Dobson went back to her typing. But, as Alex just
hung her head and retreated into her office, Mrs. Dobson's smile
broadened.
"Oh, yes, there will be changes around here!"
******************************
It took Alex almost every minute of the time remaining to compose
herself and get ready for the deputy superintendent. Having fixed
her makeup and found an old but tolerable pair of shoes in her
closet, she next attempted to find a comfortable way to sit. That
proved painful and all but impossible. The bending alone was
excruciating, but resting her weight on her welted bottom,
protected only by the thin, scratchy material of her skirt, was
unbearable. She tried every permutation, but nothing worked.
She had just decided to lean pensively against the window sill when
a knock came at her door. A smirking Hester Dobson formally
announced the arrival of the deputy superintendent, Mrs. Rebecca
Lago, and ushered her in. Mrs. Lago was 40-something, a tall,
handsome, olive-skinned brunette with a hard-nosed reputation. As
they shook hands, she gave Alex a quizzical look and asked if she
were ill. But Alex explained away her red, puffy eyes by vaguely
alluding to unspecified allergies. She offered Mrs. Lago ("Oh,
please call me Rebecca") her big desk chair and begged off sitting
down herself, because she was too stiff from an over-strenuous
workout that morning. She resumed her position at the window.
Rebecca smiled at Alex, as if already familiar with her problems.
("Maybe she's even seen my goddamn panties on display," Alex
thought.)
"Ms. Palmer -- Alex -- I'm sure you are wondering about the
reason for my being here. Let me begin by stating that this
is an official visit, and that I'm here representing not only
the superintendent, but the whole board as well."
Alex was now beginning to sweat.
"Alex, I'm not sure you know that your little program to cut down
on tardiness and truancy has gotten a great deal of attention from
the board. In fact, we took a very close look at your proposals
(which your Mr. O'Shea was kind enough to hand deliver)."
(At this point, Alex was tempted to deny any knowledge of the
program, but then thought it better just to try to ride it out.)
"Now, let me say that Mr. O'Shea did a wonderful job of explaining
your program and its benefits. And he insisted that it was all
your doing, and that you were the inspiration for the program's
success. He said that, since your new measures were put into
place, tardiness has dropped by sixty percent in a little over
three weeks, and truancy is negligible. Theft and vandalism have
all but disappeared. Those things, in themselves, would be
commendable, but I also see that the grades of those boys chosen
to be hall monitors have risen a whole grade level across the
board. In one program, therefore, you have solved several of our
biggest challenges.
"I must say, however, that I, and the board, had our reservations
about the corporal punishments -- especially since they may
be...somewhat...beyond a strict interpretation of the existing
rules set forth by the board. But, considering the results, the
superintendent (for one) was very pleased. It is true, however,
that I was rather skeptical, and, when I got the news that the
entire cheerleading squad had been spanked on their bare bottoms,
I was frankly aghast!"
Now Alex was truly perplexed. When did this happen? Was it on the
day she ditched?
"And, when I found out from Mr. O'Shea that their coach, Miss
Adams, was similarly punished, I was quite in fear of a lawsuit.
Yet, I was amazed to find out that, on the contrary, all six girls
and their esteemed ex-Olympian had not only personally apologized
to the superintendent for complaining so stridently and unfairly,
but also for being in the school after hours without permission
slips, in the first place. I have to say that it did my heart good
to see our self-absorbed BRONZE medalist taken down a few pegs. I
do wish I had been there to see it. As the superintendent pointed
out, all those snotty little...um...witches...probably very much
deserved what they got."
Alex couldn't believe it. Not only did the board know of the
bare-bottom spankings, but was now also aware that they extended
to the faculty -- specifically, former Olympic medalist, Stacy
Adams, the 24-four-year-old pixie and heartthrob of the entire male
faculty and student body. So she had been spanked...spanked like a
naughty little girl...spanked, indeed, like Alex herself had been.
But, at this moment, Alex had absolutely no idea where this was
heading and was preoccupied with uncertainties. Was she going
to be reprimanded? Did O'Shea report her own trips over his
knee? Why had he presented the board with her program?
Without realizing it, she was, once again, gently rubbing her
backside.
******************************
"That having been said, Alex, the reason I am here concerns the
district's current financial crisis. Many of our important and
popular programs are in jeopardy of being cancelled -- including,
I'm afraid, one of my own favorites: the school uniform pilot
program here. Your disciplinary project (and the subsequent
spankings of Miss Adams and her girls) gave the board a wonderful
idea. Security costs us millions for the four high schools in
the district. You and your boys have rendered that expense
unnecessary, redundant. If adopted district-wide, the resulting
savings would rescue us financially, at least for another year or
so. The superintendent and the board unanimously agreed to set up
a program similar to yours in each of the three remaining high
schools. We're going to pay the young men minimum wage for any
time worked after school and get rid of all the off-duty police
and private security firms. We believe this will benefit everyone,
as well as serve to further motivate those boys chosen as hall
monitors. It is a win-win situation.
"The board has decided to name the program 'Project Palmer' in your
honor. It will go into effect in each school as the structure is
set up and the boys chosen and trained. Your school will serve as
the training center, and Mr. O'Shea has graciously agreed to help
establish programs in the other schools. Of course I know that,
with Mr. O'Shea gone so much, your workload will be increased.
But we wouldn't want to punish you for coming up with this
brilliant idea, would we? So, we've decided to appoint a temporary
assistant principal here to help you out, namely, Tom Adkins. He
came highly recommended by Mr. O'Shea and seems most anxious to
assume his new role. He has assured us that he will wield his
newfound power just as Mr. O'Shea had, without fear or favor.
I'm sure you two will get on fabulously!
"I cannot begin to tell you, Alex, just how proud we are of your
accomplishments, and, rest assured, this program will be much to
your credit, a huge boon to your future career in the district."
Alex was stunned. Speechless.
"Alex? Are you alright?"
Alex was not alright. She had created a monster, and its master
was now that damn O'Shea. And drooling Tom Adkins the new
assistant principal! Oh, god! Could things possibly get any
worse?
"Alex?"
"Oh, I'm sorry, Mrs. La- ah, Rebecca. I was just letting it all
sink in. It's so overwhelming."
"Yes, dear, I'm sure it is! The program starts officially
tomorrow. I will be by in a few days to confer with both Mr.
O'Shea and Mr. Adkins.... And, by the way, should our little
Miss Adams run into any trouble again, please make sure I'm
present for her...comeuppance. I really wouldn't want to miss
THAT."
As Rebecca Lago made her way out of the office, Alex, dazed,
collapsed into her chair. She leaped to her feet immediately,
with a shriek that both Mrs. Lago and Mrs. Dobson must have
heard, and gingerly rubbed her screaming bottom.
"Oh, god," thought Alexandra Palmer, well-spanked principal and
now poster-child for an expanding bully-boy program, "what next?"
******************************
HICKORY STICK HIGH
by
C. Lakewood and Father Jim
Part 3: Mother Dobson Speaks
It was Thursday, a week since Alex's slippering, and she was
gradually getting back to her normal self and feeling in control
again...as far as possible. Her bottom no longer ached, but her
panties were still hanging there in the trophy case for everyone
to see and snicker at. For some reason, she just couldn't bring
herself to try facing up to Mrs. Dobson and demanding the return
of the panties.
Nevertheless, with both O'Shea and the new assistant principal,
Tom Adkins, away from Hickory High for a while, Alex had managed
to go a week without even a single slip-up on a hall pass. In
fact, it seemed that Mrs. Dobson was actually watching out for
her, twice reminding her not to leave the office without a pass.
What, exactly, was the bitch's game?
It was early yet, but news of "Project Palmer" was already
filtering back. Central High had experienced a rash of
spankings in the first two days of the program -- fifteen
girls, fourteen boys, and one female art teacher who had
failed to call in sick. On day three, however, only two
boys got spanked, both just back from suspension. Lafayette
High would begin its program next week, and Polk the week
following.
This afternoon, Alex had put some reports on Mrs. Dobson's desk
and asked her to type up and process them as quickly as possible,
since they were already late. The secretary looked up with her
habitual supercilious expression and asked to meet with Alex just
after school let out.
Alex regarded Mrs. Dobson's smug expression dubiously, but agreed.
She turned to leave the office, only to be brought up short -- yet
again -- by Mrs. Dobson, waving the obligatory hall pass.
Alex took the chit and muttered, "Mmmm. Thanks for your concern."
In fact, Alex wasn't really too worried about whether she had a
pass or not. After all, with O'Shea and Adkins gone, there wasn't
any authority around to impose her own rules against her.
She was just returning to her office from inspecting the girls'
bathrooms, looking forward to reprimanding the janitorial staff,
when she noticed it -- there, in the trophy case, right next to her
panties -- a picture...a PICTURE of Alex's bare, crimson bottom.
It was one of the photographs that Tawanda had taken. There it
hung, in practically living color. Nothing was left to anyone's
imagination. Every detail was crisply shown, right down to the
natural color of her pubic hair (which the nurse had later shaved
and which was only now growing back).
Alex, with great effort of will, pulled herself together and
marched on. She burst into her outer office and shouted, "Get
it down, NOW!"
"What are you talking about, dear?"
"Oh, don't play dumb with me, Hester. I know that you're behind
this, and I want it stopped, now, or else!"
"Now hold on, Missy, don't go throwing around threats and
accusations that you might regret!"
"Regret? REGRET? MY bare ass is on display for the whole FUCKING
school to see!"
"I'm sorry, dearie. I still don't know what you're talking about,
but you had better watch how you say it!"
"My picture, they...they put my picture in the trophy case...MY
BARE ASS!"
"Oh, that! No, that was the new assistant principal's idea. He
thought it would serve as a deterrent until his return late next
week. I assured him that it was not really necessary with the hall
monitors on duty, but he insisted. It has worked, however, hasn't
it? There hasn't been anyone brought in for a spanking in days."
Alex shrugged. What could she say?
"Now, Alexandra, if you could settle down, we can get on to the
reason I asked to meet with you. I think, however, you had better
sit, at least while you still can!"
Alex breathed deeply and exhaled, trying to calm herself, and
finally sat down, trembling. What exactly did the old hag mean
by "while you still can"?
Her intuition was trying to tell her something, but, unfortunately,
she ignored it.
******************************
Alex was rather annoyed and unsettled both by the realization that
that damn picture had been on display apparently for several days
and by the calm and authoritative tone of her secretary's voice.
"Now, Alexandra, I have something to say to you, and I would ask
that you show me the courtesy to hear me out without interruption.
Afterward, we can discuss it. Understood?"
Alex was very annoyed, now, yet all she did was nod.
"As you may know, I have been secretary to the principal at this
school for going on twenty-six years -- almost as long as you've
been alive. In that time, I have served five different principals.
I began in an era when a female high school principal was unheard
of around here. But I have watched the district mature and,
eventually, eliminate the glass ceiling. I was particularly proud
of Principal Margaret Hays, who was the first female principal in
any of the district's high schools. She came to represent this
school -- and women in general -- with real charm and style.
"But she was not always like that. When she first took over, she
felt she had something to prove and worked daily to knock some
imaginary chip off of some imaginary person's shoulder. Sure,
there were those who expected her to fail (some probably even
wanted her to) but most people just wanted her to do her job and
succeed. However, she began badly. She procrastinated sending in
reports, missed deadlines, and counted on me to bail her out when
she was pressured, just like you...."
"NOW LOOK, Hester, I never...."
"Please. I asked you to wait your turn. Don't make me tell
you again, young lady! And you will call me 'Mrs. Dobson' or
'ma'am'; you can surely address me as respectfully as you do
Tawanda Johnson."
Alex was really starting to steam. What was this "young lady"
crap? And mentioning that bitch, Tawanda! She wanted to get
up and leave, but, for some reason, decided just to let the old
bat get it out of her system.
"Now, as I was saying, Mrs. Hays was not always the solid person
she came to be. She was here a total of seven years, and, believe
me, there were problems, early on. Like Margaret, you show great
potential, yet, because of your youth and immaturity, you're going
about your job with the same attitude that made the beginning years
so difficult for her. It took me some time to get up the gumption
to give her the advice that I'm going to give you today, and I
really hope that, like Margaret, you'll thank me one day."
(Alright, so the crone wants to dump a bucket of advice on me. Big
deal. I'll listen and listen, and she'll eventually shut up.)
"Okay, Mrs. Dobson, if you have words of wisdom for me, let's get
'em out while I'm still young!"
"I have warned you to be quiet until I finish. You'll regret that
last outburst later!"
That sounded like a threat, and Alex was in no mood for threats.
Last week, maybe. She was a well-paddled little girl, then, Yes,
then she could be threatened. Now, however, the bruises were
fading, and, as her ability to sit returned, so did her bravado.
Moreover, with O'Shea and company out of her hair, no one was
going to push her around, especially her own secretary.
"Look, Mrs. Dobson, I've tried to be patient and listen, but I
really don't have the time to trip down memory lane with you
concerning some old bag of bones who retired before I got out of
grade school. I appreciate the homily and all, but if I want more,
I'll ask for it. And, right now, it's thanks, but no thanks! So,
I think I'll be going...."
"You just sit your butt back down in that seat, Missy, or you'll
regret it! I won't tell you twice!"
Alex was livid! "Look, you damn pompous old battle-axe, if I
could, I'd fire you today! I don't have to put up with your
crap, and I don't fucking plan to start."
Hester Dobson didn't even bother to reply. She just grabbed Alex's
right ear and, twisting it, dragged her out of the office. A
cleaning crew was busy in the hallway, polishing the terrazzo
floor, when the office door burst open and the two women emerged.
The principal was shrieking like a scalded cat, but Mrs. Dobson
easily frog-marched her past the grinning custodians and off
toward the nearest girls' restroom.
Once she got Alex into the lavatory, she quickly quieted her by
shoving a small bar of soap into her mouth.
Alex tried to spit out the soap, already beginning to dissolve,
but, with her ear held in a vice-like grip and a hand clamped
across her mouth, there was little she could do but accept the
inevitable.
As the soap was foaming inside Alex's mouth, Mrs. Dobson
nudged open the tap on one of the sinks, filled it with
water, and forcefully dunked Alex's face into the basin
-- once...twice...thrice.
"And the next time I have to correct your potty mouth, I'll wash it
out in the potty!" she warned.
Back they then went to the office, Alex bent over, coughing and
spitting the whole way, back past the cleaning crew (who had heard
everything). Mrs. Dobson shoved Alex roughly back into her seat
and, finally, released her ear.
"Look, you little brat, you sit there and be quiet. One more
outburst and you'll be a lot sorrier than you are right now.
Got it?"
******************************
Alex sat there. She was stunned, her mouth reeked of soap, and
she still wasn't quite sure where the old bat was headed.
"You thankless little twit, don't you realize why you never got a
single complaint about your reports being tardy, even though you
often gave them to me unfinished and days late? Did you ever ask
me if I had the time to finish your work? Did you care? No, you
just waltzed out of your office, plopped the overdue reports down
on my desk, and ordered me to get them out 'pronto.'
"Through all that, did I ever complain? Did I ever let you down?
Well, Missy, it's about time you realized just how you got your
promotion to principal in the first place, and why you never got
complaints. You see, after all the years I've been in the
district, I've developed some strong friendships. There are
people who actually want to do favors for me. And others who
don't want to, but do them anyway, because I know every skeleton
in all the closets. I have, in fact been covering for you...ever
since you first started teaching. Didn't you ever question your
quick promotions, even though you were still really unproven? No,
of course not. You were too busy being full of yourself. And so
I let your own program backfire on you! Yes, I allowed it. You
needed to be brought back to earth, and your own program did it.
Those spankings you've suffered over the last few weeks certainly
brought you down, to a degree, and, like so many of your reports,
they were long overdue!"
Alex had been stunned before, but she was stupefied now.
"Alexandra, I saw great potential in you when you first started
teaching. You were in control, but also considerate. You
seemed to love the kids and apparently listened to their
concerns with an open mind. I was so impressed with you that
I recommended you for the position of principal. I forgot,
however, first, that "Power tends to corrupt," and, second,
that your immaturity would likely exacerbate the situation.
Instead of leading the school through dedication and example,
you want to rule it with an iron fist. Oh, believe me, I think
bringing back corporal punishment was a fine idea, but it should
have been left to the vice-principal. His job is to discipline;
yours is to lead. I would have hoped that someday you would leave
here respected and beloved, but the road you're on will bring you
only fear and hatred. Is that what you want?"
Alex looked up and whispered, "No...."
******************************
HICKORY STICK HIGH
by
C. Lakewood and Father Jim
Part 4: "There was an old woman...."
Her lecture concluded, Mrs. Dobson smiled thinly at Alex.
"I do not, however, mean to give you just a dressing-down. I have
a serious task to perform, and I intend on doing it now. Just as
I once did for Mrs. Hays when she was twice your age, I propose to
lend a hand, and I mean a stiff, guiding hand in your development.
This hands-on approach starts today, right here, right now! What
I am going to do is spank you...put you across my knee like the
naughty ungrateful child you are. Moreover, I plan on continuing
to spank you whenever and wherever the need arises. You are going
to accept these spankings and profit by them, or, I promise you,
your time as principal here will be short."
Alex's head was reeling. Could it all be true?
"Alright, Missy, no need to drag this out. Stand up. NOW!"
As if in a trance that she just couldn't shake, Alex stood up.
"To begin with, today, I'll allow you to stay clothed. Now, get
across my knee!"
Alex couldn't move. She wanted to run, she wanted to hide, but she
couldn't.
Mrs. Dobson sighed. Once again, she reached out, grabbed Alex's
ear, and easily pulled her down. She wasted no time in flipping
up Alex's skirt, pulling down her panties, and beginning to slap
her bare bottom with a remorseless, staccato rhythm, in a
well-conceived and well-executed pattern. And, just when Alex
was sure she could take no more, Mrs. Dobson stopped. Relieved,
Alex whimpered.
"Oh, don't get your hopes up, Missy. I spank wee babes harder
than that. That was merely a warm-up...for my arm and your
backside. Stand up and strip to your birthday suit."
When Alex had numbly complied, Mrs. Dobson reached into her desk
and produced a coil of oiled leather. "It's a Scottish tawse,"
she said. "A relatively light one, but still a very fine one,
made by Philps." It was a strip of medium-heavy scarlet cowhide
narrowed to a handle at one end and split into 3 tails at the
other. It looked solid and well-worn from years of use, and it
was. "Margaret Hays became very familiar with it, and so will
you. Bend over and wrap your arms about your knees. And don't
you dare let go...or there'll be extras...LOTS of extras."
Alex shuddered and resolved to hang on.
With purpose and conviction, Mrs. Dobson set about giving Alex
the spanking of her life. True, the slippering last week had
been horrid, but it was structureless and, essentially, without
a higher purpose. This, however, was quite different.
To begin with, despite the fearsomeness of the tawse, Mrs. Dobson
was so skilled with it that the punishment was far from brutal.
In one way, it was similar to a child's spanking, one given to
teach a naughty girl a lesson. It was painful, but scarcely
unbearable, and it made Alex feel as though she were an errant
child being corrected by a stern matron.
(Another facet -- possibly deliberate, possibly inadvertent --
was that, as the leather kissed her bottom...crisply, but rather
sensuously, too...Alex began to realize that the raging heat that
she felt was only partly pain and partly something else....)
Of course, regardless of the nuances, she wanted it all to end,
quickly. Mrs. Dobson, on the other hand, had other ideas.
Through her tears and pleading, Alex was certain that the next swat
would cripple her. But, as swat followed swat, and Alex was never
really damaged, her mind started to drift, as if to escape into its
own haven. She fantasized for a while, but then she remembered
Mrs. Dobson's homily and began to be gripped with remorse for the
way she had been acting toward everyone -- students, faculty, and
staff. She abruptly realized that she was perhaps getting merely
what she deserved, and it was this thought that caused her to
finally break down and sob like a little child. Mrs. Dobson
knew what that meant and put down the tawse. She pulled the
still-weeping principal up and held Alex's head to her bosom,
patting her head and calming her tears. "There, there, it's
over...for now!"
******************************
Eventually, the sobs dwindled to gentle sniffles. Mrs. Dobson then
guided Alex to the corner, where she was made to stand -- naked and
with her wrists crossed behind her back -- while she listened to
Mrs. Dobson outline the new rules.
Some of the rules were annoying, and some, Alex decided, might be
almost tolerable. She was not at all pleased about having to get
to work half an hour earlier each day. On the other hand, signing
a paper giving Mrs. Dobson a certain authority (to write a
parental-style excuse when Alex missed school, for example)
could prove useful. The No-Swearing clause seemed meddlesome,
but was probably for the best. The biggest bone of contention,
however, was Alex's pubic hair. Mrs. Dobson was of the belief
that only mature adult women had pubic hair, and, therefore, Alex
would have to lose hers by the following day. She was to be
clean-shaven by tomorrow, or else.
Content that she had achieved all that she could in one afternoon,
Mrs. Dobson allowed Alex to dress and fix herself up, and then the
two walked out together.
When they got to the front doors, the monitor there, one of those,
indeed, who had witnessed Alex's slippering and subsequent
humiliations, asked (with a near-smirk) for their after-hours
passes. Alex's heart almost stopped...and then went into
overdrive. But Mrs. Dobson just smiled and handed the boy
the required passes, and they went on their way.
Alex took a deep breath. With both O'Shea and Adkins gone, who
was there to fear? She laughed inwardly at her apparently needless
panic and trudged gingerly to her car, where she turned to Mrs.
Dobson and thanked her....
Hester Dobson regarded Alex's bleary look and uncoordinated
movements, and said, "Come on, dearie, leave your car, and
I'll drive you home."
Alex reluctantly accepted. On the way, Mrs. Dobson began to seem
like a different person, warm and witty, and Alex soon found
herself quite enjoying the ride.
They stopped by Mrs. Dobson's house first, and she made a quick and
wonderful dinner mainly out of leftovers -- cranberry salad, pot
roast, hash browns, asparagus, and apple brown betty. Alex dearly
appreciated the good home cooking, which she hadn't had since her
mother died.
As Mrs. Dobson dropped Alex off at her place, she again mentioned
"The New Rules" that were in effect, and Alex again promised to
"be good."
Inside, exhausted and full as a tick, Alex stripped willy-nilly,
flopped onto the bed, and immediately fell into a deep, untroubled
sleep.
******************************
When the alarm went off the next morning, Alex hit the
snooze-button and drifted back to sleep...again...and again.
When she finally awoke for good and actually looked at the
clock, she was horrified. She was so late, and, not only was
she supposed to go in half an hour sooner, but she'd been
ordered to shave, too. And she had to call a taxi.
"Oh, god, I should have left already...shaved. Shit! Oops! Good
thing Mrs. D. didn't hear that! Oh, she is going to fry my fucking
ass. But...wait a minute, what am I thinking? I'm the boss, and
she's just an employee. I don't have to take orders from her."
Of course, when she sat down to pop-tarts and orange juice, her
tender bottom screamed, "GET UP, YOU IDIOT!" and reminded her
just who was giving the orders.
She knew there was no time to shave, so she decided to wait for
lunch and get a professional waxing. If Mrs. Dobson didn't like
that answer, well, too bad!
When she finally got to school, she got a curious look from Mrs.
Dobson, but nothing more. Alex was so relieved that she decided
to skip the waxing. She'd get to it some other time.
At noon, she announced she was going out to lunch.
Mrs. Dobson shook her head. "It's unfortunate that you were late
this morning. Your car was towed; your parking place has been made
into a handicapped space. That day you were out 'sick,' the
district sent an inspector by, who determined that we were not
in compliance...one space short. So, Mr. O'Shea volunteered to
convert yours, since it was the only one actually available.
Twelve spaces are mandated to the monitors, and everyone else --
teachers and staff -- is guaranteed a space by the union
contract...which, as you know, doesn't cover principals. So,
you can't park on school grounds, and your car wouldn't last
half a day parked on the street. Taxis are too expensive to
use every day, you're not eligible to ride the school bus, and
no City Transit bus comes anywhere close. Do you have a bicycle?"
She left that question hanging in the air and went off to the
cafeteria.
Alex spent the entire noon hour, and half the afternoon besides,
on the telephone. But, in the end, she finally had to concede
that there was no way of getting her parking place back. She
was in a snit the rest of the day.
When the last bell rang, however, it was time for something
different. Mrs. Dobson made a production of locking the outer
door.
"Well, Alexandra, have you been a good girl and done what I told
you?"
Oh, no! Alex's mouth went dry, and she began to sweat, as the fear
came pounding back. She mumbled some nonsense.
"Let's inspect it, then, shall we?"
Instead of either confessing or bluffing, Alex began to undress
very slowly, as if she could postpone the inevitable. She
agonized over each button and trembled when she lowered her
skirt, but finally stood in just her panties and bra.
"Come on, this isn't the time to be shy, Missy."
Alex burst into tears. "I forgot.... I overslept! I had meant
to do it at lunch...." It all just came pouring out, not the
confession of a grown woman, but the babbling of a naughty child
who was obviously caught in a lie...and knew it. And knew the
consequences.
Stripped bare, Alex was once again dragged across her secretary's
lap and spanked remorselessly.
With her bottom screaming for comfort, Alex was put nose-first into
the corner and ordered to wait while Mrs. Dobson ran an "errand."
Half an hour later, she was back with razor and shave cream. To
Alex's horror and shame, she was dragged off to the girls' lavatory
again (naked this time), laid out onto the floor near the sinks,
and shaved clean.
When Mrs. Dobson was satisfied with the results, back they went to
the office for yet another spanking, an exceptionally fierce one
that left Alex limp.
This time, however, there was no comforting, no stroking of hair.
Alex was ordered back to the corner and given yet another Rule.
"Since your word can't be trusted, you will report to Tawanda
Johnson EVERY MORNING before school and ask her to "please,
pretty please" inspect you and, if you need it, to shave you.
Understand me?"
B-but...when she did it before, she put some goo on me afterward,
that -- oh, gah-gosh -- itched and burned, so...."
"Then this should be a salutary lesson. I'm taking your grown-up
clothes, incidentally; there are some other things on my desk."
Leaving Alex there to contemplate the cost of her disobedience,
Mrs. Dobson then went home. As she left the building, she remarked
to the hall monitor guarding the door, "I think you should check
the office. I'm sure I heard someone in there...."
Thrilled, the monitor immediately got on his walkie-talkie and
radioed to the three other goons on duty, "ATTENTION! ATTENTION!
This is Roger! Commence lockdown procedure NOW! I'm heading to
the principal's office. Over and out!"
Meanwhile, Alex stood weeping in the corner. She might have
dressed and walked away, but all she could do was stand there,
naked as the day she was born, gently rubbing herself...back
and front. Unfortunately for her, she was unaware of the forces
that were gathering outside. She was in for a long night.
******************************
HICKORY STICK HIGH
by
C. Lakewood and Father Jim
Part 5: "Intruder Alert! Intruder Alert!"
Roger Bannon, the door monitor, locked up before hurrying off to
check the office. Thus it was that, a few moments later, a pair
of visitors found themselves locked out at the front door.
They were Mrs. Lago and her school board colleague, Mrs. Beatrice
Walters. Rebecca Lago, not one to be easily put off by locked
doors, merely produced a set of master keys. Locating the proper
one, she let Mrs. Walters and herself into the building, carefully
re-locking the doors behind them.
The two had just cleared the first hallway when one of the cleaning
crew spotted them and immediately reported their presence in the
building over the walkie-talkie. The four hall monitors split up
-- Roger continuing on to the principal's office, two others going
to head off the intruders, and the last making a circuit to check
the door locks and to block any exit.
Imagine Roger's surprise, upon entering the principal's outer
office, to find a naked weeping girl standing in the corner.
Well, she looked like a girl from the waist down, especially
with her bottom scarlet (apparently from a recent thrashing).
Roger immediately assumed he had found a wayward student.
"Now, what do we have here?"
Alex was mortified. In her sobbing and self-pity, she was so
self-absorbed that she didn't hear anyone come in. With a yelp,
she pushed herself deeper into the corner, as if this would help
hide her condition: naked, shaved, and spanked.
"What are you doing here? GET OUT!" she shrilled.
"Now, look here, girl, I don't know what you're up to, but you're
gonna be real sorry you tried it on MY watch."
"Look, you idiot, I'm Miss Palmer, your principal, and what I'm
doing here is none of your business. So scat! Go! This instant!"
Roger Bannon was a tough 18-year-old, born on the unfashionable
side of town. He didn't scare easily, and the girl's show of
bravado just made him chuckle.
"Look, Miss I-wanna-play-principal, you don't give orders here.
According to my schedule, Principal Palmer should have left the
building over an hour ago, and I sure don't think she'd be running
around the office butt-naked!"
Roger was a fairly new recruit and had not been there for Alex's
big scene with O'Shea, so he hadn't seen her naked and tearful,
and, in Alex's sorry condition, with both her face and her butt
red and swollen, he wasn't quite sure that she even resembled
the principal at all.
"Besides, the principal wouldn't be here without an after-hours
pass. She'd know better'n that. So, where's your pass?"
Her embarrassment was forgotten for the moment, because she
realized she was in real hot water. Mrs. Dobson had been
taking care of the required slips for the past week, and
tonight she'd left Alex completely without a pass.
She had enough presence of mind (barely) to tell the young man
that her secretary, Mrs. Dobson, was responsible for filling
out the slips. She must have simply forgotten to leave one.
But she could clear everything up right over the phone.
"Nice try, little lady, but I saw Mrs. Dobson just a few minutes
ago, and she didn't say squat about you. So, unless you want to
add lying to your list of offenses, you better come clean and tell
me what you're doing in the principal's offices, butt-naked."
Alex knew that there was no way to tell this kid the truth; it was
just too humiliating. She decided to try a different approach.
"Look, just let me get dressed, and I'll tell you everything!"
She made a move towards the neat stack of clothing on Mrs.
Dobson's desk.
"Just hold on, now! You touch any clothes before I say, and I'll
confiscate 'em, and you can march out of here naked, just like I
found you. Right?"
Alex decided things had gone far enough. The longer she stood
naked in front of this boy, the less sure she was of being able
to control the situation. She knew she had male hormones to
contend with, and she was getting very nervous.
She shrugged, "Okay, you're right, I am a student. I came in here
to complain to the principal about something, but I missed her.
Being alone here in the empty office, well, I don't know why
exactly, but I started to think about getting punished at school
and being made to stand in the corner. And, before I knew it,
here I stood, just like you found me. It was just acting out a
fantasy thing. You're right, I didn't get a pass. I'm sorry!
Look, just write me up, and I'll take a licking from O'Shea
after he returns!"
"Well, at least you're finally coming clean. It's about time.
But I don't have to write you up!"
"You don't?" Hope!
"No. If you read the program, you'd see that the monitors have the
right to (ahem!) 'STOP, SEARCH, and PUNISH any person found on
school grounds without proper written authority.... The only
exceptions involve theft, vandalism, other property damage, or
personal injury. These situations are handled on a case-by-case
basis and may require additional punishment and even criminal
prosecution if warranted.' Those are the only cases that have
to be 'written up,' girl."
Alex was both spellbound and shocked. These monitors were really
quite impressive. Roger had rattled off that information as if it
were second nature. Maybe this program did have its good side.
However, it also had its bad one, and that's what had shocked her.
She had read the official program description left her by Mrs.
Lago, but she didn't remember anything about the monitors'
discretionary punishment powers. Little did she know that O'Shea
and Rebecca Lago had collaborated on a revised version of the
prospectus -- the one that was approved by the School Board --
which was somewhat different from the sanitized version given to
Alex.
Suddenly she realized why no one had been brought in to her for
punishment lately, and how both O'Shea and Adkins could be absent
so easily. Anyone found breaking the rules had probably been
punished by a monitor, with Principal Palmer's apparent approval.
Alex felt queasy. This had become a classic case of the lunatics
running the asylum.
Roger interrupted her thoughts. "Now, Missy, seeing that you
finally cooperated, I'm going to go easy on you. I don't need
to search you, 'cause you're already undressed, and, looking
around, I can't see any signs of vandalism or theft, so I won't
need to report you. For being naked and trespassing after hours,
you should get twenty swats with one of our handy new leather
paddles for each offense, but, since I can see that you've
already had a good hiding today, I think maybe I'll give you
a break."
"Oh, please, yes! That would be great." Alex's hopes soared.
"Since I think this is your first offense, I'm going to reduce your
sentence to a sound hand-spanking across my knee, and then just ten
swats of the paddle! Sorry, it's the best I can do. After all, it
was your fantasy!"
Alex was stunned. Over the past few weeks she had been spanked in
front of several of the boys. A handful had even watched her being
examined and then finger-fucked to a huge orgasm by the school
nurse. The whole student body and the faculty had seen her panties
and a photo of her punished bottom. Now, just half an hour after
getting two sound spankings from her own secretary, a student was
proposing to put her over his knee.
Alex wasn't sure of much at this point, but she did know that her
bottom simply could not take another spanking so soon, and that
she certainly wasn't going to submit to any spanking from some
young hunk no older than her kid brother.
She began to sputter, indignantly, but Roger cut her off,
chuckling.
"That's the same thing the cheerleader coach said just before I
tanned her and her girls' little hides. You should have seen the
fuss they put up, but they all got their rear-ends skinned just
the same. The way they carried on.... I heard they even
complained to the superintendent, but changed their tune after
they met with Mr. O'Shea. Amazing how a slipper can adjust a
girl's attitude."
He shrugged.
"Now look, kid, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. You
can just put your cute self over my knee and take it like a good
little girl, or you can fight me. I'll still spank you raw, but
you'll get twenty swats besides. Now, what's it gonna be? Your
call."
She kept thinking of what it would be like to be spanked by her
younger brother. The thought revolted her...of course. And
yet.... She stood there trembling and...oh, god!...horny....
She wanted to run; she wanted to cry. She wanted to do anything
but get another spanking.
******************************
Meanwhile, two trembling, middle-aged women stood in the
vice-principal's office. Two monitors stood by, looking
quite annoyed.
"Now, let me get this straight. You let yourself in, after hours,
and without written authorization. Right? Ladies, you are in
deeeep trouble!"
******************************
Roger smiled, ambiguously. "Mr. O'Shea has a plaque on his office
wall...'Justice delayed is justice denied.' Don't remember who
said that, but it's a good motto."
He had placed Alex across his lap so adroitly that even she wasn't
sure how he'd done it. And, as promised, he quickly set about
making her regret that she had not cooperated.
He spanked with considerable skill despite his youth. Although he
had been a monitor for only a few weeks, his natural talent as a
spanker was already well-developed. In truth, he had significant
experience in spanking both young ladies and mature women.
******************************
Roger had found his niche one afternoon as he subdued the
neighborhood bully (a 5'9" 145 pound, tomboy named Max --
three years his elder) and ended her habit of tormenting
little kids. A hour later, he dealt similarly with Max's
mother.
Since then, he had corrected a succession of girlfriends --
for smoking, swearing, self-involvement, tardiness, bad
temper, or "attitude." Along the way, he also spanked
the mothers of three of these girls, for cause, with no
recriminations or pay-back.
Less than a year ago, he spanked his own mother -- for drunk
driving -- and, subsequently, for overspending and for slovenly
housekeeping.
Roger may have been something of a fascist, but he was quite a
principled one and, unless he discovered those principles being
violated, quite an amiable one.
******************************
It was also he who caught those cheerleaders after hours and
without written permission. (That they were also playing with
each other in the gang shower was almost incidental.) So he
spanked all six and, as well, a furious Miss Adams, their coach,
who walked in during the proceedings.
Livid, they complained to the superintendent, who passed the buck
to his nephew, O'Shea -- who, in turn, not only exonerated Roger,
but also imposed a brisk paddling on the seven complainants (after
hearing exactly what was going on in that shower room). They
dropped the complaint and apologized.
Then there was the less celebrated case of Mrs. Sylvia Bowen who
chose, unwisely, to take her daughter's prescription medicine --
a controlled substance -- directly to the classroom, rather than
sending it by way of the office, as required. But that arrogant,
self-absorbed woman was never one to follow the rules.
When Roger asked for her pass, she laughed, "I come and go as I
please. Now, run away, little boy, and bother someone else."
There ensued, for Mrs. Bowen, a summary strip search, a lengthy
cavity search (in which Tawanda Johnson also participated), and a
protracted spanking -- followed by a trip to the school infirmary,
where she received "treatment" from Nurse Johnson in the form of a
handful of powerful ¡Ay-chihuahua! brand suppositories (which had
her squatting over the toilet several times a day for the better
part of a week).
It was too soon yet to tell if there had been any permanent
improvement in Mrs. Bowen's personality, but she had been
keeping a low profile lately.
******************************
So it was a practiced lap that Alex now found herself across.
As she had anticipated, the reality of getting spanked by an
18-year-old boy (the age of her younger brother) was truly
humiliating. She didn't have much time to worry about that,
however. At present, about all she could do was wriggle around
under the sound spanking Roger was dishing out. Although he
spanked with a steady cadence, he varied the placing and intensity.
If she could have predicted the target or the force, she could
have braced herself for it. But each new slap was as much a
surprise as the previous ones. She was therefore always off
guard. All she could do was shriek and beg, her voice
reverberating down the hallway for the edification of the
cleaning crew.
******************************
True to his word, Roger made sure that the girl across his lap paid
for her stubbornness in spades. Alex was devastated. This man-boy
had reduced her to a sniveling child. She had wailed and begged
and even offered to do "anything...everything" he wanted in return
for leniency. Roger couldn't be bribed into neglecting his duty,
but he wasn't a eunuch, either, and he mentally filed away these
offers for future consideration. (He was between girl friends
right then.)
"Okay, kid, it's time for your paddling. Don't worry. These new
leather ones are much better than that heavy, hardwood monster they
used to have. The new ones do sting, but, if you use 'em right,
they don't bruise or blister -- just produce a beautiful overall
color. I'll call my squad and let 'em know we're on our way."
After a brief conversation on the walkie-talkie, however, he leaned
back. "We'll have to wait," he said. "They're occupied, I guess."
He smiled indulgently. "So what's your name and grade?"
"Alex Pa-...ah...A-alice P-otts. Alice Potts. I'm a senior...a
transfer."
"You look younger than that," he said, his eyes straying to her
hairless crotch.
"Alice" was not quite sure whether she should cover it up or flaunt
it. "I-I don't have a way home. After the...it, could you give me
a lift?"
He shrugged. "Maybe...." He regarded the clothing folded neatly
on top of the desk. "She certainly is tidy," he thought. "Maybe
she's not as big a flake as she seems."
After some minutes of on-again, off-again small talk, he told her
to gather up her clothes and come along to the vice-principal's
office. As she trotted barefoot down the hall, her scarlet bottom
was much admired by the cleaning people. But she was considering
the discovery she'd just made: the clothing Mrs. Dobson had left
for her was a Hickory High School uniform, but no panties were
included.
Roger noticed his two friends standing outside the girls' lavatory
and hastened over. Alex made no protest at being naked in front of
even more boys, but simply went where Roger led her. If anything,
she was abandoning her modesty and beginning to strut a bit, as
befitting a teenager who was no better than she should be. She
was careful to carry her clothing bundle just at abdomen height
-- where it wouldn't hide either her stiff nipples above or her
hairless pussy below.
Then the lavatory door opened, and Rebecca Lago and Beatrice
Walters appeared. Alex was paralyzed. She just stared back
at them, wide-eyed, certain her career was over.
But Rebecca merely said to Roger, loftily, "I see you've
apprehended another naughty girl. Well, make sure you
punish her soundly."
Then, as she passed Alex, she murmured softly, "Our secret, right?"
Alex nodded...and exhaled. The Secret would stay secret. And
"Project Palmer" would continue, a cheap enough price.
Bowing her head, Alex turned and followed Roger into the
vice-principal's office. "Alice Potts" would be the next
naughty student to get her butt polished with the paddle.
******************************
HICKORY STICK HIGH
by
C. Lakewood and Father Jim
Part 6: Becca and Bea
While Roger had been occupied with "Alice Potts" in the principal's
office, the two middle-aged women who stood in the vice-principal's
office were beginning to realize what a mistake their impromptu
visit to the school was.
Although they had identified themselves as Mrs. Lago and Mrs.
Walters of the school board, neither had any board ID to prove
it. Moreover, neither had written permission to be in the school
after hours. The two monitors had decided that, regardless of
who the women might or might not be, they were trespassing, so
it was just a matter of following prescribed procedures to the
inevitable conclusion.
Accordingly, the boys had firmly escorted the two furious and
protesting women down the hall to the vice-principal's office
and ordered them to strip. Red-faced and shaking with rage,
they flatly refused.
The two monitors, Tim and Jamal, tried to look stern and judicial.
"Now look, ladies," Tim said, "if you are who you say you are,
you prob'ly were not here to steal stuff or vandalize the place.
Soooo, you must be just testing out the new program. You made
it official policy and gotta know the regulations and the
penalties." He took down a shiny leather paddle from its
place on the office wall and flourished it. "If you want a
demonstration, that's exac'ly what you'll get. Fair warning,
ladies -- start peelin' down, or we'll just have to use a little
'persuasion.'"
These were two of the town's most prominent women. Rebecca Lago,
46 years old, but easily looking ten years younger than that, was
married to one of the wealthiest men in the state. He owned eight
automobile dealerships, all heavily advertised, and she had figured
quite prominently in his commercials for years. This television
exposure had helped her win a seat on the school board -- to which
she was twice re-elected. Her face was familiar to many, but it
wasn't her face that she was worried about now.
Her friend, Beatrice Walters, 42, was the wife of the pastor of the
largest church in the county. For her, the prospect of stripping
for two teenage boys was overshadowed by the realization that, if
news of this got out, her husband's work would be ruined. And it
would get out, unless she were very lucky...or.... She glanced
again at the quiet black hulk, Jamal, who lived just down the
street from her. She was mortified and almost in tears.
SMACK! SMACK!
The women, each caught up in her own concerns, had not noticed that
Tim had walked round behind them. Their unsuspecting bottoms had
been easy targets for a quick swat from the paddle. They both
immediately began to unbutton their blouses....
SMACK! SMACK!
"Snap it up. We don't have all day!"
Bea Walters had been spanked before, both as a child and as an
adult. During the early years of her marriage, her husband had
frequently put her across his knee and applied a belt, switch, or
slipper to the lovely backside of his sometimes petulant bride.
He was a firm believer in the adage, "Spare the rod and spoil the
child," indeed believing that it also applied to spouses who acted
like children. He was head of his house, essentially an absolute
monarch, and he never let her forget it. (The last of those
spankings, however, had occurred almost ten years ago, as the
Rev. Fenimore Walters increasingly found other matters to occupy
his time and attention.) The nudity, however, was something
outside her experience. As an adult, she had been seen unclothed
only by her husband and by her doctor -- and not very often by
either -- and, even then, had the protection of darkness or an
exam gown. Yet, here she stood, under garish fluorescent lights,
stripping off all of her clothes while being leered at by two
rowdy teenage boys (one of whom she knew).
Mrs. Lago, on the other hand, had never been spanked by either
parent. They both had generally spoiled their daughter. (She
had, of course, played around with it some in her college sorority,
but it was just that: playing.) And her husband was, if anything,
more doting than her parents had been. So that first swat was
something of a revelation.
Like Mrs. Walters, she was also bothered by the fact that she was
being forced to strip by two teenage boys, leering jock-types of
the sort she had habitually and casually shot down in school.
(She had always preferred the soft, nerdy types, high on earning
potential and low on assertiveness.) The prospect of standing
nude in front of her colleague, moreover, was no less appalling.
Mrs. Lago finally decided that she had had enough.
"Okay, boys, you've had your fun, and you've made your point.
Now, suppose we all just forget this whole thing ever happened,
before you two do something you're really going to regret."
In answer, Tim delivered another round of "encouragement."
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
"Owww, look, I just don't...eeee!"
SMACK!
"Okay, okay, stop! Please!"
Both blouses dropped noiselessly to the floor...followed closely
by the skirts.
The two women, both still quite attractive, presented a striking
contrast in style. Mrs. Lago sported a fancy bra, garter-belt,
stockings, and bikini panties -- all in black. Mrs. Walters, on
the other hand, wore a simple plain white bra, matching cotton
briefs, and unassuming panty hose. (Talking it over afterward,
the boys agreed that they looked sort of like the personifications
of Naughty and Nice.) In one respect, however, the two women were
quite alike -- both were crimson with embarrassment.
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
"Get going, ladies. All of it!"
Next, the bras came off. Each woman tried at first to shield her
breasts. But, after struggling briefly, trying to remove the
remaining lingerie one-handed and earning a few more swats, they
abandoned modesty and used both hands to finally strip to the buff
without further delay.
Then, her modesty reasserting itself, Mrs. Walters stood with one
arm covering her chest and the other coyly placed over her crotch.
Mrs. Lago, however, gave up totally and used both hands to gingerly
soothe the burning in her plump, reddened bottom.
"Ladies, it's just a matter of procedure, but we are now required
to do a search for contraband...."
Rebecca spoke up. "No! I can assure you that we don't have
anything illegal on us."
"Well, we MIGHT have gone easy on you, 'cept there is the matter of
just how you got into a locked school...."
"I have keys...in my purse. I swear! You can look; you can even
keep them, if you want. Please!"
"That may be, ma'am, but who's to say you didn't hide a copy
somewheres on your person? Nope, you're both gonna have to
bend over and spread 'em!"
Both women were appalled. This just couldn't be happening. It's
bad enough to be forced to strip naked and stand in front of boys
young enough to be your sons, but to bend over and expose parts of
themselves that only their doctors had actually seen....
Several quick swats changed their minds, of course.
The two weeping women were put through the full procedure --
bending, reaching back and spreading their butt cheeks and then
their labia, squatting, hopping, coughing....
And nothing was found.
Mrs. Lago, straightening up, frowned and asked, "Well, have you
two seen enough? Can we go now?"
Tim and Jamal chuckled.
"Now, now. You know proper procedure. We STOP! We SEARCH! We
PUNISH! He counted them off on his fingers. And we ain't even
finished with Step Two, yet. Rules are rules. I'm sure you
wouldn't want us to do it any way 'cept by the book!"
Tim took a box of latex exam gloves out of O'Shea's desk, and both
women practically swooned.
"Bend over again, ma'am. We've got to give you what they call a
'digital inspection.'" He and Jamal donned gloves and began
greasing up their fingers with a pungent-smelling goo.
"We were runnin' short of the regular lube, so Mr. O'Shea and
Coach, they decided to stretch out what we had by mixin' it with
this "Icy-Hot" kind of stuff we use for sore muscles. It's
diluted, but you WILL feel it. Now, bend and spread 'em again.
Or do you want more paddle?"
The women whimpered, but they did bend and spread -- and spent the
next few minutes moaning and wriggling on the boys' burning fingers.
Indeed, after each monitor had THOROUGHLY inspected his perp's
holes, they traded places and did it all again.
At length, Tim announced that the search phase was completed.
"Now, as for your punishment...."
The two women groaned.
******************************
"So, let's get down to business, shall we, ladies? We DO have
other duties, you know. Jam, grab that other chair there, and
bring it around here."
The two boys sat down on the chairs and beckoned the women to put
themselves into position.
"What? You've got to be kidding!" Mrs. Lago, beside herself with
both fear and frustration, had found her voice again.
"Come on, Rebecca, let's just get this over with!" Evidently, Mrs.
Walters remembered the cost of delaying a punishment and decided to
cooperate. She meekly walked over to Jamal and draped herself
across his waiting lap.
Mrs. Lago was aghast at the sight. She might accept a few swats
of a paddle, but no way was she going to take such a childish
punishment from a mere boy, regardless of what Bea Walters was
willing to do.
"I will not subject myself to any more of these indignities. I
just won't! Call the police, if you must; call O'Shea; call the
superintendent. You will not do that to me."
Seconds later, she lay screaming across the desk, her right arm
twisted up behind her. Tim used the paddle extremely well, and,
very soon, she was begging to be hand-spanked over his knee.
Though she was blubbering pleas and apologies, Tim knew that the
lesson needed to be thoroughly..."inculcated" (a vocabulary word
that he miraculously remembered)...so he applied six more swats
with gusto and then returned to his chair.
Sobbing and rubbing her bottom like a three-year-old, Rebecca
placed herself across Tim's lap.
Soon the room was filled with a cacophony of smacking and
squealing, slapping and sobbing. Tim being right-handed
and Jamal a southpaw, the two women faced in opposite
directions, so each was well-placed to watch the other.
Indeed, from the moment Rebecca was pinned to the desk and
paddled, Bea Walters found herself watching with interest...even
fascination. She herself had suffered similar punishments and
had even seen her own daughters punished across her husband's
knee, but this was Rebecca Lago who was finally getting a good
dose of what she had probably needed (and deserved) for years.
As Jamal's callous hand fell heavily and repeatedly on her own
rear end, she took some consolation (even pleasure) in watching
someone else get it, too. And the fact that it was her friend
and colleague made the sight all the sweeter.
Rebecca, however, was having other thoughts. As she writhed across
the young man's lap, she suddenly remembered that Miss Snotty Adams
had suffered a similar fate, spanked across a student's knee,
together with her entire cheerleading squad. Rebecca tried to
imagine that cute, tanned pixie, her naked fanny wobbling back
and forth, reddening.... She pictured Miss Adams in her place,
across Tim's lap, begging and crying like a child, promising to
be good, promising anything....
Suddenly, she felt...excited. She concentrated on that vision of
Miss Adams, and there were sparks.... Without realizing it, she
began to welcome the pain, thrusting her bottom upward greedily,
meeting Tim's punishing palm. SHE was no longer getting spanked.
SHE was no longer screaming in pain. It was Stacy Adams who was
experiencing the punishment -- childish, humiliating, interminable.
Each swat stoked the fire higher and hotter, and soon it flared out
of control. Moments later, the redoubtable Rebecca Lago began to
spasm in an unimaginably intense orgasm.
Tim was young, but he had been around enough to realize what was
happening. He re-doubled his efforts and succeeded in spanking
her through three more mind-numbing orgasms before he finally
paused and pushed her from his lap.
All of this had not gone unnoticed by Mrs. Walters. She, too, was
relishing the thought, the sights, and the sounds of somebody else
going through it, too -- getting spanked, writhing in pain, and
then...and then...screaming though a series of incredible orgasms.
And so Bea began to cum, as well. As Rebecca's spasms were
slowing, Bea's orgasm was building. Jamal, less urbane than Tim
(who was, after all, a wide receiver), thought maybe she was
epileptic, and stopped spanking. Bea seized his leg and dug in
her fingers, gasping, "No! Please!" Jamal, though no genius,
figured out what she meant and went back to work.
She climaxed only once more, but it was the best orgasm of her
life. Never before had a spanking given her anything other than
pain and humiliation. But now, naked and helpless and over the
knees of a neighbor boy, she felt at peace.
The two monitors looked at each other and smiled. Both women lay
quietly, Mrs. Lago on the floor, Mrs. Walters across Jamal's lap.
They were sweaty and tearful, sniffling and panting, but seemed
content and docile now, even submissive.
The calm was broken by the squawk of the walkie-talkie. "This is
Roger. I found the other intruder and will be bringing her over
to the office for her paddling."
Tim frowned into the hand-set. "Roger...uh...Roger. Give us, say,
another 20-25 minutes, okay? Out."
He looked thoughtful. "Now, ladies, it's also time for YOUR
paddling.... The normal penalty is 20 swats.... BUT, I might
be willing to forgive part of that in return for some...well,
'community service' from you both."
Through a haze of bliss, both women heard the words "paddling,"
"willing to forgive," and "community service" and looked at
each other wide-eyed, with a mixture of fright and hope.
"Anything!" they both said at the same time.
"Well, Jam-bo," Tim said, "why don't you take Mrs. Walters out
somewhere and discuss it?"
Jamal looked puzzled for a moment, but then broke into an enormous
grin. "Right on!" he exclaimed and hauled Bea out the door.
Tim leaned back in his chair and spread his legs apart, showing an
impressively bulging crotch. "So, what do you say, ma'am?"
Rebecca hesitantly knelt in front of the boy and looked up at him.
Involuntarily licking her lips, she murmured, "I-I've never, ever
done this...."
Tim smirked. "Then you're real lucky to get such a nice one your
first time out. All the girls tell me that it's 'so yummy.'"
Her bottom still throbbing, Rebecca blushed and, not unwillingly,
reached for Tim's zipper.
******************************
It was almost 15 minutes later when Jamal and Bea returned. She
was clinging to his brawny arm.
Rebecca was already in position across O'Shea's desk, her
twitching ass in the air, her asshole winking, and her pussy
peeping back between her legs, through a damp thicket of wiry
black hair. Bea joined her. Side by side, they each reached
out, grabbed the opposite side of the desk, and held on for
dear life. (Rebecca, in particular, was flushed, remembering
how she'd had to confess to Tim that, indeed, it was 'yummy.')
Tim drew himself up. "Sentence reduced to 10 swats each. That
okay with you, Jam?"
Jamal nodded gleefully. "Oh, yeah!"
Tim was no sadist. He laid on each swat just hard enough to make
sure they felt it, but not hard enough to cause further damage to
their already mottled scarlet backsides.
Rebecca was going with the flow of electricity that was already
building in her loins. At swat number seven, she began to cum
yet again. Bea followed on swat nine. By swat ten, it was
obvious that both women were spent.
They lay exhausted, side-by-side, still clutching the far side of
the desk. Their eyes were glazed, and they smiled strangely,
despite the pain that continued to throb in their scarlet bottoms.
"Ahem, ladies, it's time to go! Another monitor is on his way here
with another trespasser, so, unless you want 'em to find you both
in this, uh, condition, you should get your things together, and
we'll escort you to the ladies' room so you can fix yourselves up."
The thought of even one more person seeing their condition quickly
brought the two ladies out of their hormone-induced stupor, more or
less, and soon they were being marched down the hall to the nearest
girls' lavatory, their clothes clutched to their naked bosoms.
Several members of the cleaning staff, who had heard the goings-on
in the office, now watched the monitors and penitents parade past.
One of the older women shook her head. "Umm-umm-umm! What a
place!"
******************************
Inside the restroom, as the two were going through the painful
process of getting dressed, they were also deep in thought.
Rebecca was remembering rumors that had begun floating around the
district since "Project Palmer" had gone into effect. It was true
that, other than the one art teacher that O'Shea so thoughtfully
tattooed with a paddle, there had been no official complaints.
(Stacy Adams didn't count.) Still, there were those stories of
various "trespassers"....
She'd been certain that the story about the aerobics group was all
so much fluff. Imagine a couple of dozen women, in their 20s and
30s, leotards off, bent over and spanked by two 18-year-old
monitors. At the time, it had sounded ridiculous.
Then there was the rumor of the female judge and her feminist
discussion group. Those boys surely wouldn't spank the bare
behind of a lady judge. Would they?
Of course they would.
Well, no matter, one thing was clear. She was going to make damn
sure the program continued. She had never felt so humiliated and
out of control in her life...and she had loved it. She felt so
alive, content.
And, perhaps not surprisingly, Bea would have agreed.
When they finally interrupted their reveries and opened the
lavatory door, they abruptly came face to face with Alex Palmer,
naked as a jay. She stared back at them, wide-eyed, apparently
stunned.
Rebecca almost called her by name, but something in Alex's face
made her hesitate. Instead, she turned to Roger. "I see you've
found another naughty girl. Well, make sure you punish her
soundly." As she passed Alex, she murmured softly, almost
inaudibly, "Our secret, right?"
Alex nodded. The code of silence was ratified; nothing would be
said. By the same token, their mutual silence also guaranteed
that the program would go on, regardless of who suffered the
consequences.
Bowing her head, Alex turned and followed Roger into the
vice-principal's office. Seconds later, just as Mrs. Lago
was leaving the building, the sound of leather smacking flesh
began to echo down the hallways. Rebecca smiled.
******************************
Later that evening, Beatrice Walters, lying in bed (on her stomach)
and remembering events at the school -- and writhing slightly with
the remembering -- got a phone call.
"Hello, Bea? It's Becca. Have you recovered?"
"I-I'm beginning to.... And you?"
"Yes. It's painful, but I guess we can conclude that the monitors
are doing their jobs...this time, anyway. But...."
"But?"
"Well, one sample is meaningless, statistically. I do think
that...um...we ought to investigate further.... We can
recuperate tomorrow and Sunday. Do you have plans for Monday?"
"Oh, god, Becca! I...don't...know...."
"Jamal's going to be on duty, again...."
"Oh, god! Jamal! You know he does yard work around the
neighborhood.... He wants to h-hire me to be his ASS-sistant...."
"Assistant?"
"ASS-sistant. He insists I say it that way. He's so...so....
"Masterful?"
"Y-yes. I-I...alright."
"Good, I'll pick you up, about the same time. Um...I'll be
wearing a thong...and they'll probably expect us to be shaved....
Also, it has occurred to me that, perhaps in future, we ought to
plan on checking up on how the program is progressing at the other
schools, too. After all, it wouldn't do to let them slide by with
sub-standard enforcement...."
"Oh, Becca!" Bea shivered.
******************************
HICKORY STICK HIGH
by
C. Lakewood
Part 7: Home
When Alex finally started to dress after Roger had finished her
punishment, she did so in a haze of pain and uncertainty. But
the excruciatingly shortened skirt of her uniform, combined with
the fact that that damn Dobson had thoughtfully not given her
any panties, tended to make her think of other aspects of her
situation. Roger was going to give her a ride, but she didn't
dare direct him to her own place. That just left one
possibility....
She gave him Hester Dobson's address.
The drive to Mrs. Dobson's house was pretty much a blur, but Alex
was grateful that this long, terrible day was coming to an end.
Assuming she could snow Hester with a mixture of sweet talk and
double talk, she'd soon be home and sinking into a warm bath, and
later pigging out on pizza and Diet Dew, and, finally, crawling
into her queen-sized bed and sleeping for a day and a half.
Meanwhile, it was sort of nice to be riding along beside this
blonde hunk. Even though he was actually eight years younger
than her, he was quite manly -- and she was developing a
disturbing urge to obey him, regardless....
When they got to Mrs. Dobson's house at last, Roger insisted on
walking her to the door. And, just as they reached the porch,
her "aunt" (who had heard the car drive up) opened the door and
greeted them warmly. There were introductions, followed by jolly
"Aunt" Hester inviting Roger to stay for dinner and refusing to
take "No" for an answer.
Alex was so distracted during the meal that she ate hardly anything
(and remembered almost nothing of what she did eat). She could
hardly help noticing, however, that the other two were really
getting along famously -- almost as if each recognized in the
other a kindred spirit.
After the meal, "Aunt" Hester was solicitous. "Since there's no
school tomorrow, I was going to suggest that you two young people
should go out somewhere, but.... Are you not feeling well, dear?"
"Oh, well...just a bit 'off.' It's been a trying day."
"All the more reason why you should go out and have some fun. It's
probably just a touch of tummy trouble. I know what will fix you
right up: a nice, big enema. And then you and Roger can properly
enjoy yourselves."
So saying, she unceremoniously hauled her so-called niece upstairs
into the bathroom and ordered her to strip.
Roger lingered downstairs, thinking.
When Alex/Alice was naked, with a minimum of fuss, Hester inspected
her alleged niece's rosy butt, expressed her satisfaction, and
produced a jar of some ointment (with which she proceeded to soothe
the pain of the multiple spankings Alex had undergone that
afternoon).
Alex, who was getting woozy, was jerked back to the here and now by
Hester's dry voice.
"My nose tells me you've been enjoying yourself," she sniffed. In
the small bathroom, even Alex could smell her own musk.
"Um...we don't really need to do the enema, do we?" Alex offered.
"Oh, yes, we really do. Wait here." For the second time in a few
hours, she gathered up Alex's clothes and left.
She prepared the solution very carefully -- using Epsom salts,
liquid Ivory soap, a small amount of lemon juice, and some castor
oil. Once mixed with warm water, this solution was milky white.
She poured the contents into a red rubber 2-quart enema bag.
Roger was very interested in the process. "You don't mind if I
steal your recipe, I hope, ma'am. Mom gets an enema once a month
-- oftener if she's cranky -- and I'm always interested in
alternative formulas."
Hester absolutely beamed at him.
******************************
Back upstairs, Hester blithely hung the bag from the shower rod
while Alex watched and trembled.
"Haven't I been through enough today?" she whined.
"It's all a part of 'Tough Love,'" Hester said, softly. "And,
before you protest further, I should remind you, 'Alice,' that
the acoustics in this house are excellent. Therefore, you ought
to keep your voice down when you say anything you don't want
overheard." She put a dishwashing glove on her right hand
and picked up a tube of lubricant with her left. "Now, bend
over, dear. I must grease the way."
Alex felt totally exposed and totally helpless. She groaned,
softly, as Hester goosed her with a slippery forefinger. Then
a second finger pushed through the flinching sphincter, and
Hester spent a moment or two making sure that her patient was
properly prepared.
Then the fingers were removed, the hose was cleared of air, the
large-caliber nozzle inserted, and the clamp released. Warm
fluid began gushing into Alex's bowels, and, almost immediately,
the cramping began. Her stomach bulged.
She whimpered, then moaned, "Aah! Aaaannnggghhhh! Oooo! Please
make it stop! Please!"
"Shh!" Hester cautioned. "You will hold this for 15 minutes --
and I MEAN 'hold' it. Make a mess, and you'll be sorry. I'll
be chatting with Roger while we wait."
Alex was in agony for a few minutes, until she got the idea of
playing with herself as a distraction from her turbulent bowels.
It was a delicate thing, though. She couldn't risk being so
distracted that she'd lose control of her sphincter -- she
certainly couldn't afford to cum -- so she was forced to adopt
an on-again, off-again pace that was particularly frustrating.
"Are you alright, dear?" Hester called from downstairs.
Alex knew she had to answer. "Y-yes, ma'am...."
"Only a few minutes longer," Hester added, merrily.
Shortly afterward, Hester returned to the bathroom with another
full bag. "Plain water rinse," she noted. "Time will be up
directly; Roger will let us know."
She looked pointedly at Alex's well-fingered pussy. "Hmmmp! We'll
see about THAT later...."
Then Roger's voice interrupted. "Right! Time's up." He sounded
as though he were right outside the bathroom door.
"Ah! Good," Hester said. "I'll wait for you in the hall; the air
will be better there, I think. Expel what you've been holding and
then rinse yourself out." She flipped on the exhaust fan as she
exited.
"Oh, god!" Alex thought. "Hester and Roger -- Roger! -- are just
outside. They'll hear!" But she couldn't wait any longer. She
sat on the toilet and cringed as her bowels noisily expelled the
enema.
A couple of minutes later, there was a second spasm, and then,
trembling, she rinsed with the bag of plain water. When she
flushed this time, Hester ascertained she was finished and then
handed in some clothes -- a t-shirt mini-dress and a pair of
sandals.
Alex dressed and, as an afterthought, pulled her hair back into a
ponytail. Regarding herself in the mirror, she sighed, disgusted.
"A short, thin, clingy dress and no underwear!" she muttered.
"And I'm expected to go out on a 'date' with an 18-year-old
disciplinarian, me looking like I'm advertising -- drooling
cunt, stiff nipples, and everything."
She sheepishly rejoined the others, was admonished by Aunt Hester
to behave herself "out there," and went off with Roger,
hand-in-hand.
******************************
Alex returned around midnight, looking more than a little rumpled,
and was met just inside the front door.
"Well, young lady, did you behave yourself tonight?" Aunt Hester
growled.
Alex nodded, unconvincingly, and involuntarily licked her lips.
"Haven't you learned, Alice, that I can always tell when you're
lying? Your bare bottom will pay for that lie in a few minutes.
Now, do you want to tell me all about it, OR do you want to pay
an even stiffer price?"
"Well, I didn't have any ID, so that limited the places we could
go," Alex began. "We talked, and we danced some, and I got sweaty,
and this dam-darn dress became nearly transparent (as if it wasn't
bad enough already). So we sat in his car and drank Diet Dew
and...um...necked...."
"I imagine you did more than neck. He's a healthy young man, after
all, and you can be quite the little show-off."
"He...um...um...felt me up. He took my dress off and m-made me
take out the trash n-naked...."
"Hmmmp...trash! Did you try to resist?"
"N-no. Well, he'd already seen me naked this afternoon.... And
he's so strong and forceful and...good looking...."
"So what happened in the end?"
"I...um...I g-gave him a-a blow job...."
"I'm sure he deserved it; you have been teasing him relentlessly.
Did you do it well?"
"I think so." Alex was gaining confidence. "I haven't done
anything like that for years. But he seemed to like it very
much; he ejaculated a lot of cum. I...swallowed it all."
"And did you like doing it?"
"Yes, ma'am. His cum tastes nice."
"Did you have an orgasm?"
"Yes, ma'am. Two. He used his fingers...."
"Hmmm. It appears we have a wee problem. Now that you've serviced
him once (and on the first date, too!), he'll expect to get it
regularly...and so he should."
Alex was speechless.
"I have gone over your file carefully," Hester said, seeming to
change the subject.
("File?" Alex thought.)
"And I've done a great deal of thinking. This business with Roger
presents intriguing possibilities. Your intellectual growth in
the last dozen years seems to have far exceeded your social
development. I am now of the opinion that you will learn far
more about real life and your proper place in it through a few
months' relationship with Roger than you would in years as a
principal. So, I spent some time tonight creating a record for
'Alice Potts' in the school's data base. You're a late transfer
from out of state, will be living with your aunt, Hester Dobson,
will be formally enrolled tomorrow, and will be taking P.E., home
ec, sex ed, remedial English, and remedial math."
"But it would be impossible for me to be, simultaneously, Alice
Potts, the dimwitted student, and Alexandra Palmer, the notorious
principal...."
"You're right. So you'll just be Alice Potts for a while. I will
phone the superintendent's office tomorrow and arrange leave for
you. I don't anticipate any trouble -- you're very popular with
the board right now, and I can spin some plausible story...your
grandmother seriously ill, perhaps. Anyway, after the nurse
checks you over tomorrow, you can begin your...re-education, shall
we say. Incidentally, we will need an ally or co-conspirator in a
position of some authority at the school. For a number of reasons,
I have chosen Tawanda Johnson for that role."
"Oh, ga-gosh! Tawanda? But...."
"All part of the learning experience, dear. Now, in the morning
we'll have to go shopping for some suitable clothes (including a
regulation P.E. outfit). You'll notice a couple of changes in
your school uniform, by the way. I've shortened the skirt another
inch...."
"But it was sooo short already...."
"And now it's even shorter -- almost certainly the shortest in the
school. I've also exchanged your standard blue and gold necktie
for a red one."
Alex blinked. "Red?"
"You must have missed the e-mail. A red tie indicates an
undisciplined, 'problem student.' It was one of Mrs. Lago's
ideas. We'll talk in the morning...at length, I'm sure. But
now it's time to spank you and put you to bed...." She held
up a glistening, amber, cigar-shaped object. "And this is what
gets inserted into nasty little girls who play with themselves.
It will have completely melted by morning, and, don't worry,
the itch will have faded by evening...probably. If not, well,
I'm sure Roger can comfort you."
"Alice Potts" shivered as she thought about how different high
school was going to be this second time around.