From Blushes Uniform Girls 7
The army staff car pulled to a halt outside the barracks, and the driver jumped out with a cloth to polish the windscreen and dust over the body work.
Rosalyn Minter had been with the army now for just under a year and was finding the companionship of her unit, and the responsibility of her job, more satisfying than anything she had tackled previously. Not that three years as a waitress on the ferries plying between Harwich and the Hook of Holland hadn’t had their fun moments: she’d had some bloody good times. But there was a certain pride in wearing a uniform of Her Majesty’s armed forces which was infinitely preferable to the long periods of boredom on the ferries.
The car, as always, was pristine — almost, it seemed, straight out of a showroom — and Rosalyn always made sure that her officers never had cause for complaint when they travelled with her. Indeed, some officers now asked for her by name as she had the ability to hold an intelligent conversation when required, but could also hold her tongue and not blab information to her colleagues.
Happy with her work, Rosalyn got back into the car and swung round the quadrangle towards the administration block where she was due to pick up Colonel Leyton. The colonel was a stickler for rules and regulations, and demanded absolute accuracy: when he asked for a car to collect him at 11am, he expected it to arrive at 11am on the dot. Not before, and certainly not after. None of the girls liked responding to a call from Colonel Leyton.
She switched the engine off, and rolled the window down. The sweltering heat made the motionless car like a small oven. Rosalyn could feel the little prickles of sweat between her shoulder blades and in the small of her back. Although she was permitted to take off her jacket — it was short-sleeve order today — she had gone one better and slipped off her stockings as well, all the better to keep cool.
No-one would notice she was sporting non-regulation bare legs, she was sure, and anyway they could hardly complain in this heatwave. She glanced at her watch. One minute to eleven.
Sixty seconds later, she saw the colonel striding down the steps of the admin block and over the gravel towards the car. She jumped out and walked round to the nearside rear door to hold it open as he got in with a curt nod. His eyes fell briefly to her legs — bare only from her shoes to below her knees, where the skirt began — but no word was said. He couldn’t have noticed.
The adjutant, Lieutenant Forbes, saluted crisply, and the colonel nodded. Rosalyn started the car, and drove smoothly off to the gates, glancing nervously in the rear-view mirror as she did so; the colonel was studying some papers in his briefcase.
If Rosalyn had been able to see that the colonel was actually engrossed in the latest issue of a well-known CP magazine, which had arrived under plain brown cover that morning marked ‘Strictly Personal’, she might have been a little more worried. As it was, she concentrated on the job in hand.
The colonel let out a grunt of delight as he turned a page and came to a colour spread of a particularly attractive school-girl who had erred sufficiently at the riding stables to warrant being bent over a pile of straw bales with her jodhpurs and pants round her knees for a sound thrashing. The marks of the riding crop on the girl’s bare buttocks showed that the implement had actually been used. How did they get these girls to pose for these photographs, he wondered?
Eventually, Rosalyn pulled up at the hotel where Colonel Leyton was due to attend a meeting. As he snapped his briefcase shut, she opened his door and he unwound himself from the seat.
‘Thank you driver,’ he intoned, ‘One hour, please.’
One hour and ten minutes later, the colonel stormed out of the building, and Rosalyn had to literally run round the car to get to the door in time.
‘I do not understand…’ began the colonel, ‘why these people cannot understand the problems we’re operating under.’ Rosalyn snapped to attention as he began speaking. It was unusual for him to utter a word, let alone an outburst like this. They must have really got his goat in there.
He stood there complaining for another minute, shuffling a sheaf of files. Inevitably, he dropped one, and Rosalyn squatted down to pick it up. His eyes followed her move.
‘What’s your name, driver?’ he demanded.
‘Minter. And how long have you been in the army, Minter?’
‘Nearly a year, sir.’
‘I see. And do you know the regulations regarding clothing?’
‘Yes, sir. It’s short-sleeve order today, sir.’
‘But short-sleeve order does not include removal of stockings or tights or whatever it is you girls wear nowadays… does it?’
‘No, sir, but…’
‘No buts, Minter. Are your legs bare, or are they not?’
‘Well yes, they are bare, sir, but…’
‘And are drivers allowed to report for duty with bare legs or not?’
‘They’re not, sir,’ Rosalyn had to agree. She’d really got herself into the frying pan now. He was bound to put her on report. Her WRAC officer was always so concerned that her girls had an unblemished record that she frequently opted for the unofficial application of a slender cane she kept in the office rather than putting her girls on official reports which made the unit look poorly run. Only major offences went through normal channels now, and all the girls accepted this. However, the army officers were not privy to this piece of information. Which was probably just as well.
The colonel huffed, accepted the file which Rosalyn handed to him, and got into the car.
‘Have you been on report before, Minter?’ he asked.
‘What, in an entire year?’
‘That’s right, sir.’
‘Well, this looks as if you’re going to break your own record. Pity really.’ He lapsed into silence.
Opening his case, he flipped the pages over to find the colour spread of the girl being whipped in the riding stables. He looked at the back of Rosalyn’s head, her hair neatly plaited and folded under her cap. That seemed a little longer than regulation, too, he thought to himself, though quite a few of the drivers now wore their hair a little longer than in years gone by.
The girl had nearly got away with it. The deep sun-tan on her legs almost disguised the fact that she was not wearing stockings. He wondered where she stripped off to sunbathe. The thought of this statuesque young lady in some skimpy bikini was suddenly more than a little interesting. Then an even more interesting thought struck him.
‘Where did you go to school, Minter?’ he asked suddenly.
‘Ummm, St Alice’s Convent in Surrey, sir,’
‘And was that a strict school?’
‘Well, not really sir, not very strict… but the nuns didn’t brook any nonsense… it was the emphasis on religion which got to me.’
‘And did the nuns ever use corporal punishment as a last resort, Minter?’ he continued.
‘Not so much as a last resort, sir.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, girls were punished pretty frequently really. So beatings weren’t a last resort, really. I suppose the birch was the last resort, sir.’
‘The birch, eh? Ever get it?’ the colonel asked.
‘Oh no, sir. I had the strap a few times, though,’ replied Rosalyn, risking a glance in the mirror. He was looking out of the window.
‘A friend of mine had the birch once, and she didn’t half complain!’
‘Why was that?’
Rosalyn couldn’t understand the officer’s interest in punishments which had happened nearly five years ago.
‘Well, it was a real birch rod — I don’t suppose you’ve seen one, sir — it’s like a bundle of thin birch twigs really, bound together at one end. And if you were naughty enough to get it, they used to make you take your knickers down. That’s what happened to my friend, anyway,’ Rosalyn concluded.
‘So punishments were given on the bottom, were they, not on the hand?’
‘Yes sir, well that’s where I got the strap, anyway,’ she grinned into the mirror, ‘but I just had to lift my skirt up. Still stung like billie-oh, though. Those nuns really laid it on, sir.’
‘I’m sure you deserved it, Minter. Take me back to the admin block will you, not to my quarters?’
‘Yes sir.’ Rosalyn wondered if she’d wittered on too much about her school experiences. Why it should be of interest to the colonel, heaven only knew.
The officer strode back into the block, and shortly the adjutant came out to the car: ‘The colonel would like to see you in his office, driver… Minter, isn’t it? I think you’re in a little hot water, my lass.’
‘Is he going to put me on report, sir?’ she asked, as they reached the adjutant’s office which led through to the colonel’s. ‘I think you’ll find the colonel’s a very fair man, Minter, for all his gruffness. But he’s also a very strict man. He applies strict rules to himself, and expects others to abide by them too.’
‘Yes, sir.’ She hadn’t a clue what he was on about, but all became crystal clear as the lieutenant went on:
‘I understand from the colonel that when you were at school you were beaten on a number of occasions for infringing the rules.’
‘Yes, but I was a teenager then: it was five years or so ago, sir,’ said Rosalyn.
‘Quite. And you’re how old now?’
‘Twenty, sir. Nearly twenty one, actually.’
‘I see. Well, the colonel feels that it would be a pity to blot your copybook at this stage. I understand you’ve not been on report since you joined us. That’s a remarkable record.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
The lieutenant went on: ‘So the colonel is willing to offer you the alternative of corporal punishment, which he will administer personally, rather than have to put you on report and it would be a bad report, believe me. Any driver reporting for duty with no stockings or tights on is asking for trouble. So it’s up to you, Minter.’
‘When you say “corporal punishment” sir, what exactly does that mean?’ Rosalyn asked.
‘Yes, but what sort of beating, sir? Do you know?’
‘Well, at your age, I should imagine it would be administered to your bare bottom, began the lieutenant.
‘Bare, sir? From the colonel? Well, that’s a bit…’
‘Oh definitely bare, Minter. And would think you’ll probably get a dose of the cane.’
‘The cane. Oh… I see, sir.’ The prospect of having her nude backside assaulted with a wooden cane was one which made Rosalyn’s mouth suddenly dry, and the thought of it being handed out by the colonel of the regiment made her heart thump even faster. There was a long silence while Rosalyn looked at the polished toes of her black shoes.
‘When would I get it, sir?’ she asked.
‘If you slip into your correct official uniform you can just go through to the colonel’s office and get it over with right now.’
Rosalyn adjusted her cap, smoothed her skirt, and knocked on the colonel’s door.
‘The adjutant said you wanted to see me, sir, she saluted.
‘Ah yes, Minter. So you’ve decided to take the sensible course have you?’ he asked.
‘Yes, sir. What do you…’ she was interrupted by the telephone jangling. The colonel picked it up and responded with a series of grunts and a final ‘thank you’ to the information which the lieutenant was passing on from the next room. So she was prepared for it to be bare arse, eh?
‘I don’t have long, Minter, so let’s get this sad little affair over with, shall we? Cap, jacket and skirt off.’
The girl was standing to attention, her body rigid with expectancy. She was almost relieved to be given the order, and quickly removed the required garments, lying them over a chair by the door. Her shirt ended just above her knickers, which were plain white nylon with a light fringing of a lace pattern along the waistband and round the legs. The material was almost translucent, her most intimate parts highlighted by the gusset, clinging, almost hugging, the clearly defined lips surrounded by dark hair.
Rosalyn was 5’5” tall and slim built. Not skinny, but svelte, her long brown legs arrowing up to the entrancing division at the apex of her thighs, the flair of her hips accentuating the narrowness of her waist, her breasts concealed beneath the crisp white shirt and regulation white bra. She stood to attention again.
‘You’d better get those silly shoes off, too,’ the colonel suggested. Rosalyn bent and flipped the shoes off and placed them carefully under the chair where her clothes lay, then stood straight again, hands by side, her palms beginning to sweat.
‘In the cupboard over there, just inside the cloakroom, you’ll find an old bamboo cane hanging up. Bring it here.’
The officer watched Rosalyn’s buttocks wobble gently as she walked right across the room to the cloakroom, the twin half-moons fleshier than he had anticipated, the soft division between them clearly visible through the thin nylon covering. He looked forward to the moment — not far hence — when he would remove that muslin garment and administer his first spanking since he had whipped that pretty little Thai girl who had been their house-servant in Bangkok nearly three years ago.
But she had been skinny in comparison to the statuesque beauty who now handed him the cane, crook handle first, her eyes downcast: ‘Is that what you’re going to use sir? I mean I’ve never had the cane or anything since I was sixteen, and I’ve never had it… bare.’
The colonel ignored Rosalyn’s nervous jibbering, and sat on the chair in front of his desk and gestured for her to lie across the desk.
‘Stand up,’ came the order.
Rosalyn struggled to her feet.
‘Take your panties down, Minter. Then you may bend over.’
‘Sorry sir. I didn’t…’ she pushed her knickers down a little.
The colonel watched her bottom tense and relax as she moved, marvelling at the smoothly unblemished cheeks with the dusting of dark hair peeking from the lower part of the dividing cleft. The flesh was white in comparison to the tanned thighs and lower back on view, the clear lines of the youngster’s bikini-bottom showing she favoured a particularly high-cut style on the hip while going for modesty in the bottom-region.
Rosalyn’s legs were straight out behind her, her arms shaking slightly as she waited for something to happen. The colonel reached out and placed his left hand firmly on her right hip at her waist, raised the cane and brought it down with a startlingly loud report on the girl’s naked right buttock. The punishment had begun.
Outside in the adjutant’s office, the lieutenant had been joined by the sergeant major, and both of them were peering through the small glass panel in the colonel’s door.
Fortunately, the colonel’s choice of desk meant he was facing away from the door. Unfortunately for the onlookers, it also meant they were denied a ringside seat for the proceedings, which were punctuated with loud ‘Ouches’ and ‘Owwoohhs’ as the springy cane splatted on her bare cheeks.
The lieutenant and sergeant major had a superb view of Rosalyn’s scissoring legs, which waved her knickers helplessly in the air when a particularly stinging spank arrived on an as yet unreddened part of her backside. At the other end the girl’s face flushed turning from side to side as the punishment progressed, the bottom lip gripped firmly by the teeth in a grimace ready for the next blow, the mouth opening for a moment to emit a loud exclamation as it arrived, then back to the grimace again.
She turned to her left and suddenly noticed the two faces peering through the window watching the cane rise and fall with an impressive Craacckk on her unprotected rear-end.
As if it wasn’t bad enough being spanked at twenty, without it turning into a bloody cabaret turn!
Finally, the colonel decided she’d had enough and ordered her to her feet. As she stood there forlornly rubbing her bottom, now glowing a deep mottled red, she was told to place her hands behind her neck and stand facing the desk until ordered to move.
The colonel picked up the ‘phone: ‘Come in for a moment.’ Hardly had he replaced the receiver than the adjutant arrived through the door, eyes bulging at the sight of the half-naked driver standing by the desk, her bottom cheeks heavy and sullen looking after their spanking.
‘Ah Lieutenant. I have just had to discipline driver Minter here, with her agreement. Would you please type up a suitable form for her to sign, and I will countersign it. And that’ll be the end of the matter. Give her one copy, and the other can go in my confidential file. No copy in her file. Understood?’
The lieutenant nodded: ‘Yes, colonel,’ his eyes still glued to the bare bottom. He couldn’t believe how deep a red it was, that must have been some spanking, around twenty whacks or more, and they were really hard ones too…
‘Thank you, lieutenant,’ the colonel said.
A few minutes later, Rosalyn, fully dressed, hair in place and cap on top, exited from the colonel’s office. She grinned, embarrassed, at the officer. I suppose you think I was a bit of a kid, making such a noise?’
‘No, I don’t think so. You had a sound spanking, and you took it very well. Sign here.’ He pushed a single typed form across the desk, Rosalyn signed it without reading it, and was handed the first carbon.
‘Ah sorry. Colonel’s got to countersign. Back in a min.’ He snatched the paper away, and was back a moment later. ‘Here you are.’
As the girl left the office, so the colonel came in.
‘Ah Derek,’ he began. ‘Good lass, that. Takes discipline well. See if you can get a birch rod made up for me, would you. Proper one, not a single rod, mind.’
‘Like they used at her convent, sir?’
‘Yes, Derek, just in case she needs a refresher course,’ he smiled.
To be continued…