A St Angela’s story from Roué 12
Even though the high hedges on each side gave some protection it still seemed a long chilly walk down the narrow path in the evening, especially in the autumn when somehow the hedges seemed to act as a bit of a wind tunnel and it seemed even further away from the main school buildings. The fallen leaves always swirled round your flat school shoes and on those occasions it was best to wear your school mac over your uniform despite the fact that you knew very well you wouldn’t be feeling the cold coming back later. You were expected to be there promptly ten minutes after prep finished, always in the free hour before you had to go to your dorm, and somehow the side door of the darkened pavilion was always ajar when you arrived.
It was eerie finding yourself in a dark building, so empty, just feeling your way along the corridor towards the little gleam of light that glimmered out from under the storeroom door.
They always gave you ample time to think whilst you were waiting, sometimes as long as fifteen minutes by yourself in the dimly lit storeroom, plenty of time to meditate on what might happen to you, and after your first few times you soon learned what was expected.
It seemed quite natural that the contents of your changing room locker would be on the chair waiting for you all ready. You didn’t have to look around either, the main object, the one that really mattered, would be etched on your mind for life. It was there over to one side with its rough leather top and splayed out thick wooden legs to remind you how soon your own legs would in their turn be splayed out and your bare tummy would be wriggling frenetically across the hard top. They would always set it fairly tall, high enough off the ground to keep you on tiptoe, or even to get your feet off the wooden floor, so that with your body well forward you could kick and twist without hindrance.
You always tried hard to avoid constantly thinking about ‘all that’ whilst you slipped quietly out of your school uniform and into your running vest and shorts — those ridiculously brief cotton shorts slit up the sides and so brief that the lower third of your bum was bared even when you were standing, and more to come when you bent over the horse.
Try to forget it, think about how that thin skimpy vest shows your pretty tits off — pity he’s not susceptible to pretty tits.
Quite why they made you put your socks and gym-shoes on you couldn’t imagine. The store room was none too warm in this weather, but at least they’d been kind enough to light the old heater in the far corner. It was a bit smoky but you huddled your shivering figure over it for the little warmth it gave out, knowing it wasn’t just the chill that was making you shiver.
Old Snotty wasn’t one of her favourites, thought Julie, suddenly feeling the tightening of her buttocks. All of the masters took the opportunity of chastising the young girls at the school when they got the chance, but Old Snotty needed only the flimsiest excuse to apply a gym shoe to a girl’s backside. Julie shuddered at the thought of what was in store for her as she eased her thick blue knickers down to her ankles before quickly stepping out of the unnecessary garment. She lost no time in slipping the thin tight vest over her fair hair tied back in its twin bunches, and almost as quickly she pulled the tight brief running shorts up over her pertly chubby buttocks. Might as well make the most of them before Old Snotty peels them down again she thought ruefully.
She heard his cough in the corridor and the slight pause as he locked the outer door to the pavilion, and she knew she would barely have time to prepare herself for his arrival.
With a tiny sniffly sob she ran to the horse and bounced herself up across its high leather back. Her body wriggled forward across the worn leather top until her toes were just clear of the floor mat, her legs were spread apart exactly as he liked her and she bent her knees in towards the horse to throw her rounded cheeks back into full prominence. Like all of the staff he had his little whims, and two previous painful visits to the pavilion had taught Julie the value of co-operation. There would be no complaints this evening that ‘She hadn’t stuck her bum out.’
As she lay there tense and frightened she could hear the steady advance of his footsteps down the corridor and then the squeak as the door handle turned, followed by the faint cool rush of air as the door opened and shut.
As the light switch clicked, her end of the room was suddenly illuminated brightly. Two focused spotlights like they had in the classy shop windows shining from above and behind lit up the only part of your anatomy they were really interested in, and she tried to imagine what sort of a picture Snotty was revelling in. She could tell from the sound of his puffy breaths that he was enjoying the display. She sensed his piggy little eyes gloating and his lips being moistened as he peered short-sightedly at the half-exposed buttocks, the thin shorts moulded to the chubby teenage cheeks. Her forward position over the horse would have pulled her shorts well up over the two pert mounds of her young bum so that the shorts would have risen up to make the legs cut high across her bare cheeks, with the gusset taut into the cleft that divided the two melons of her behind, the separation of her thighs, throwing the fat little sliced peach of her labia into bas-relief.
Suddenly she felt his cold sweaty hands fondle her bum where it was bare, and her thighs began to squirm at the thought of what was about to begin. She began to weep silently.
Despite her attempt to conceal her weeping from him, Old Snotty must have heard her and suddenly a front light lit up her tear-streaked face, revealed by the mirror so carefully positioned in front of the horse. Snotty really enjoyed seeing a girl cry and she noticed how much bolder his hands became with his rising excitement. Nearly all of the masters seemed to derive a good deal of pleasure from chastising their pupils, and Old Snotty in particular could hardly conceal his excitement from any girl he had to punish, and as Julie could just make out his face dimly in the mirror even though the room was fairly dark behind her, she could see his visage lit up with anticipatory lust as he continued the searching exploration of her nubile buttocks. At last he stopped, and then Old Snotty watched her face avidly as he slapped the sole of the gym-shoe across his palm a few times, noting with a curled twist of his lips how Julia’s face winced as each smack of the shoe echoed round the room and as she felt him rest the cool sole of the gym pump across the trembling lower slopes of her chubby bum she began to cry. The first smarting crack of the shoe across her bottom was delivered so hard that she nearly leapt off the horse. Somehow you could never remember just how stingy a spanking was, and she heard herself crying out her protests as he continued to whack her bum, really hard firm sharp whacks of the pump full across both cheeks, delivered as usual with just enough pause between the strokes to let the pain reach up to her brain and sink into her mounting anguish. After ten strokes or so her buttocks were rising to each whack and her thighs were twisting around on the horse.
Snotty licked his dry lips with growing pleasure as his eyes flickered from the reflection of the sobbing girl’s tear stained face in the mirror to the cherry-red tight buttocks leaping and squirming across the horse. Julie’s bottom was much too sore and stingy for her to put up more than a feeble token protest as he stripped her shorts down to just above her knees, and she soon widened her thighs as much as her lowered shorts would allow at his command, and then for the next minute or two all that could be heard from the room was the out-of-condition wheezing of the master interspersed with the gasps of the girl as she got a couple of dozen more before he dropped the slipper.
Julie’s round, sore cheeks cringed as his hands felt for her buttocks, she was terrified he would spank her some more with his bare hand as he sometimes did, particularly if he was in the mood for a revival of his flagging excitement, but with a sigh of relief she realised he was only rubbing cooling cream over the crests of her pink behind.
It wasn’t an unmixed blessing. Old Snotty rubbed hard and he liked to feel you wriggling your still sore bum and thighs in his hands, his palms were rough and the cream he used always made it hurt like hell before it soothed at all. Julie’s tears and weeping increased once more as the cream began to tingle her tender buttocks fanning the fiery red stingy sensations, she kept telling herself it was better than having him give her a hand-spanking. Nevertheless she couldn’t help crying out.
‘Oooh — aahh — nnn — please — ooh — ple — nngg — not so — hard — sir — please no more.’
Julie’s tears slowly subsided and gradually her bum’s tingle got less she felt her thighs and buttocks relax, but she began to feel uneasy at the way his hands were slipping up and down her smooth slippery thigh tops. She began to pant and gasp as his fingers parted the damp swollen lips of her labia, easing apart the peachy cleft and exploring forwards to find the cherry pink bud, insistent fingers rubbing it hard into full turgidity. She felt an overwhelming desire to pee on his hand and knew she would be smacked hard and long if she allowed herself to indulge in any such naughtiness.
Old Snotty took her up to the climax of her inevitable orgasm and watched her bucking up and down on the horse, her lissom legs squirming with her shamed excitement. He left her alone in the gym with her thoughts.
Ten minutes later Julie put out the storeroom lights and crept tearfully down the darkened corridor rubbing gently at her still-smarting bottom, knowing full well that Mr Harris would be seeing her tomorrow at eight sharp before morning assembly.