Belinda's American Education - Corner Time - Part 2

Corner time really gives a girl a chance to think, which was precisely what Belinda was doing.  

How had it come to this?  A few scant moments before she had been Belinda Krueger, PhD student and respected associate Professor at her University.  Now she was a freshly spanked miscreant with her bare bottom on display in the principal's office at the Jameson Reformatory.

Belinda was standing in the corner with her skirt pinned up, front and back, and her panties around her knees.  "If my student's could see me now…"  Belinda shuddered at the thought.

Phhhh... Phhhh… Phhh...  In her current state of undress Belinda was acutely aware of the movements of the large stand up oscillating fan in the principal's office.  The fan blew a soft breeze across her freshly caned backside every 20 seconds a so.  The coolness made Belinda even more acutely aware of her shamefully bare bottom, which had been left on display for her educational edification and, no doubt, her principal’s amusement.

She couldn’t see him of course, but he knew he was there, shuffling papers at his desk as he ogled her.  Her pose made it all the worse.   Belinda had been ordered to bend slightly and lean forward until her nose pressed against the wall.  The pose forced her to arch her shapely bottom up and out.  

“What those leering, lazy frat boys in my class wouldn’t pay to see this view!” Belinda thought.  Belinda struggled unsuccessfully to banish the horrifying notion from her mind.

The tickling sensation from the fan was driving her quite mad, and was made all the worse by the fact that she was forbidden to rub her spanked bottom or take her hands off the top of her head.  

Belinda was free in that she wasn’t physically restrained, a fact that made her shameful posture all the more humiliating.  The threat of her principal’s wicked cane left her frozen more completely than any cement.

Oh, how Belinda despised that cane!  Belinda had fantasized about playing the part of the naughty school girl for years, and had felt a delicious tingle when the principal had removed it from the cabinet and SWISHED it through the air.  From her extensive reading on the subject, Belinda knew, or thought she knew, exactly how effective such an instrument could be in teaching a young lady a salutary moral lesson. 

 

Belinda felt a naughty thrill at the thought of holding the instrument that had been used to teach so many young women to respect their betters, and as a credentialed academic herself she felt she had every right to hold it.  Belinda was fascinated with spanking and had often fantasized about what it might be like to wield the cane…

But the principal thought better, and before long Belinda was touching the cane not with her hands but with her shamefully bared bottom.

Belinda had long advocated corporal punishment which left her in a precarious mental state.  If school punishments were always a just and wholesome correction, as Belinda had long argued, then wasn’t Belinda in fact getting precisely what she deserved?  

At the age of 25 Belinda had supposed that she was too old for such a juvenile punishment, but the principal has proven her wrong.  Was her reformatory punishment proof that she wasn’t truly the “good girl” she had always supposed, and was in fact no better than the petty trollips and guttersnipes who populated these sorts of places?

As she mulled these disturbing notions Belinda tried to relieve the burning itch by shifting her weight from foot to foot, an action which caused her bottom cheeks to wiggle provocatively.  Her little dance was rewarded with an amused chuckle from the principal, and Belinda, embarrassed, froze.

“He’s loving every minute of this!” Belinda fumed.  “He loves watching me squirm.”  Belinda, once again in Professorial mode, held fast, determined not to give the old goat the satisfaction.

Phhh…Phhh…Phhh…  The breeze blew.  Tickle, tickle.  Tickle, tickle!

Belinda had studied spanking with the cool and dispassionate eye of a seasoned academic, and she understood all too well the psychology of what was happening to her.  Like Belinda, all of the young women in this institution were over 18.  The juvenile uniform, the baring of her bottom, and now her shameful corner time were carefully designed to rob her of her adult identity and reduce her to the status of a naughty brat getting her just desserts.

When Belinda was ordered into the corner the principal reprimanded her for placing her laced fingers behind rather than atop her head, as if it made a difference.  Then he ordered to arch her bottom up “properly” and punctuated his command with a sharp slap across her bare posterior.  As intended, the Professor’s harsh, condescending tone reinforced Belinda feeling of being too stupid to even do her corner time correctly.

Yet the fact that she understood the process did not lessen its effectiveness; if anything, it simply added to her sense of helpless humiliation.  Belinda KNEW she was an accomplished and educated professional, and yet as she stood in the corner she felt her self confidence and sense of maturity ebb with each pass of the oscillating fan.

“I hope I do well in my classes.  I don’t want my teachers to paddle me!”

Belinda banished the absurd thought from her mind, and reminded herself that she was a teacher, not a reformatory delinquent, despite her present predicament.  

Phhhh... Phhhh… Phhh...    Oh, how her bottom itched!

“I hope the other girls like me.  I hope I fit in.”

Belinda struggled to regain her senses.  “I am an adult.  I don’t need to ‘fit in’ with a bunch of snotty nosed delinquents at the reformatory.  That’s what he wants me to think.  That’s why I’m doing corner time in this ridiculous uniform!”

Phhh…phhh….phhh..  Tickle, tickle.  

“It was stupid of me to ask to touch the cane!  I must learn to be more respectful of the instrument of my just correction!”

Phhh…phhh… phhh…  Tickle, tickle.  

“I should have placed my hands ON TOP of my head.  I’m such a dumb bunny!”

Belinda finally succumbed to her embarrassment and once again shifted her weight slightly in a desperate attempt to relieve the itch.  This time, her reward was the principal’s stern voice.  “Stop fidgeting, girl!"

Belinda Krueger, student of psychology, knew that the words “fidget” and “girl” had been deliberately chosen for their humiliation value, and it infuriated her.  But Belinda Krueger, reformatory delinquent, realized how easy it would be for the principal to flip her over his knee and give her a lesson in manners.  The delinquent overruled the professor as Belinda steeled herself to serve her corner time like a good girl.

Belinda’s regression into the role of a naughty teenager was cut short by the horrifying sound of a doorknob turning…

Belinda’s mind raced!  Her principal had invited her faculty advisor, Professor Winters, to visit, but Belinda was hoping that her corner time would conclude before his arrival. 

Professor Winters was sexist and old fashioned, and Belinda knew that he didn’t approve of women professors.  Despite her outstanding work, he had treated Belinda dismissively, at least until Belinda had filed a complaint with the University’s Ombudsman about his use of the condescending words “child” and “young lady” and his incessant “compliments” about her lovely face and figure. 

Professor Winters was the department chair, which made it a high risk move.  But the Ombudsman threat of an early retirement worked its magic, and the old toad had been positively deferential to Belinda every since.  

Two years later, Belinda finally felt that she had earned Professor Winters respect as an intellectual peer, and he was the last person she wanted to have see her serving her corner time.

Despite her embarrassment at her nakedness, Belinda was relieved to hear the voice of the principal’s secretary, Miss Rawlings.  “You had wanted me to lockup Miss Krueger’s things, sir?” she said, referring to the box on the principal’s desk that contained Belinda’s purse and street clothes.

 

“Actually, I’d like you to mail it away to permanent storage.”  

 “Permanent storage?” Miss Rawlings asked, surprised.  “I thought she was only going to be here for six weeks.”

 “I had thought so, too,” the principal said, his voice tinged with sadness.  “However judging from her impudence I’m not sure that six weeks will suffice.  Do you what this impudent rascal said?  She asked to play with my cane!”

 “I never!” Miss Rawlings said, shocked.  “I certainly hope you gave her what for!”

 

"See for yourself,” the principal replied.

Belinda flushed as the bovine secretary moved in for a closer look.  Belinda desperately wanted to lower her skirt and cover her bottom but dared not.  Instead, she kept her hands on top of her head, and out of the corner of her eye watched as the smug, smiling secretary relished her humiliation.  

Belinda knew Miss Rawlings type well from the University, and had pegged her the moment she had walked into the principal’s office.  A bitter old crone trapped in low paying administrative position, resentful of any younger women’s looks, ambition and success.   In her crisp and well tailored business suit it was obvious to both of them that Belinda was everything that she would never be, and the old hag resented Belinda instantly.

 

Fortunately, Professor Belinda knew how to handle her.  When given an ounce of power, the bitter shrews were more abusive, capricious, and cruel than even their harshest superiors – unless, of course, you let them know at once who was in charge.

“Young ladies waiting to see the principal sit there,” she had said when Belinda had entered, pointing to three small, hard wooden stools next to the principal’s door. 

Belinda simply ignored her and plopped herself down on the couch outside of the principal’s office, and browsed through Miss Rawlings edition of COSMOPOLITIAN. 

"I'll have a coffee with sweet and low," she had said without looking up from the magazine.

Miss Rawlings glared daggers at her, but Belinda had smiled, confident in her intellectual superiority.

Of course now the tables had turned, and Miss Rawlings was relishing every moment of Belinda’s humiliating tumble.  “My, you did teach her quite the lesson, didn’t you, sir?” Miss Rawlings said, toadying up to her boss.  “I imagine you’re not feeling so snotty now, are you missy?”

“No, ma’am” Belinda replied meekly.  Belinda despised having to kiss up to the vengeful old bitty, but she was acutely aware that the principal (and his cane) were watching…

“Poor dear!”, Miss Rawlings said, feigning sympathy. “The classroom desks have wooden seats, and you’ll be sitting on your stripes for hours.  It will be like frying your bottom on a griddle.”

“She’s been warned already not to fidget,” the principal said sternly.

“Oh, no, you mustn’t fidget,” Miss Rawlings chided.  “Fidgeting only signals your bottom is itching for more, and the teacher will take you right over his knee, in front of the whole class.  Then you’ll have something to fidget about!”

Belinda clenched her teeth as Miss Rawlings leaned in close to her face and smiled.  “Still, it’s for the best.  The cane is a harsh master, but a fool will learn from no other.”

Belinda bristled at the word “fool” but held her position as the vengeful Miss Rawlings admonished her to “be good” and then playfully patted her bare bottom before leaving to make the address label.

The casualness with which the old woman touched her backside startled Belinda, and triggered another horrifying thought.  “I wonder if she’ll have the authority to spank me, too.  I suppose she will…she is a member of the staff, and I’m a student now.”  

The thought of a session over the hateful Miss Rawling’s knee gave Belinda more to chew on as the devilish fan continued its agonizing caress.

And yet, despite it all, Belinda felt strangely… excited.  She had fantasized about school spankings for years, and now those fantasies were being realized in Technicolor.  Belinda hoped the principal didn’t notice her squeezing her thighs together…

Belinda’s thoughts shifted to her stepmother.  Against her strong objections Belinda’s lonely, widowed father had married an evil little gold-digger who, at age 22, was actually 3 years Belinda’s junior.  Belinda hated her from the start, but her normally wise and judicious father, blinded by love, had refused to listen.  

They had been married only a month, and now her father was ill.   Belinda had planned to use her free time at the reformatory to look in on him more often, but now that was impossible.  What was worse, her hated, wicked stepmother knew of her confinement, and was coming to gloat over her predicament the next day.

Belinda was extremely conscious of her stepmother’s youth and lack of education, and always made a point of talking down to her.  Belinda hoped that her street clothes would still be available, and that she could somehow persuade the principal to let her change back into her stylish attire before confronting her stepmother.

Belinda cringed at the thought of her stepmother seeing her dressed in her juvenile school uniform!  Belinda knew her stepmother would love to see her condescending stepdaughter treated like a naughty teen, and the thought of her hated stepmother’s triumph throbbed worse than even the devilish stripes on her bottom.

Belinda’s heart pounded as once again she heard the doorknob turn.

“It’s Professor Winter’s!” she thought.  “My academic advisor is here, and he’s going to see my bare bottom!”

Belinda was again strangely relieved by the sound of Miss Rawling’s voice.  “UPS man!” she said cheerfully.  “Now, let’s get this mailing label stuck on so that Miss Krueger’s nice things can be tucked away safe, sound, and well out of reach!’

Belinda wasn’t surprised at Miss Rawling’s joyous tone, but she was startled when she heard a low wolf whistle followed by a male voice exclaiming, “Well, well, well.  It looks like someone got a lesson in minding their betters!”

 

It was the UPS man!  Miss Rawlings had brought the UPS man into pick up the box containing her clothes, and he was ogling her naked bottom!

Now the full magnitude of Belinda’s predicament struck her.  Belinda had been born with the proverbial silver spoon in her mouth and was accustomed to a life of privilege and ease.  School, like everything else, was easy.  Belinda was smart, wealthy, and successful, and had naturally become accustomed to lording it over people.  Indeed, Belinda regarded the various maids and servants who waited on her hand and foot as mere accessories.

Now a common delivery man was staring at her bare backside!

“That’s one fine looking ass,” the delivery man observed, “although if those two moons belonged to me, I’d do more than just spank them!”  

Belinda clenched her teeth as the secretary, principal, and the impossibly low and vulgar delivery man shared a laugh at her expense. 

“I’ll have his job for that!” Belinda thought.  True enough, in the past Belinda had sacked people for far less.  As their laughter burned her ears, Belinda was struck by another thought.  “I don’t even know who he is.  He can see my bare bottom, but I can’t even turn around to see his face!”

Then it hit her.   She was no longer a successful heiress, associate college professor, and PhD student.  She was now just another reformatory delinquent, and the delivery man had every RIGHT to ogle her freshly spanked bottom.   After all, he was a decent and respectable member of society, and she was just another well spanked little slut. 

 

As a reformatory prisoner, Belinda owned nothing.  She had no money, no credit cards, and no identification.  She was who they said she was.   Even the humbling uniform she was wearing could be taken from her at any time.  

It was humiliating to have to show the delivery man her spanked backside, but Belinda knew she was lucky to be wearing any clothes at all.

For the first time in her life, Belinda would need to watch her step.  Everyone she met would be her superior, from her teachers to the secretaries to the janitors.  What’s worse, her panties could be lowered and her bottom could be spanked for the tiniest infraction, for the merest hint of disrespect…

Belinda watched helplessly as her clothes, money, purse, identification, and credit cards were hauled away by the smiling UPS man.  Belinda knew that box was her sole means of escape, and now it was one more cardboard box on some nameless truck destined for parts unknown…

As the fan tickled her bottom Belinda’s thoughts turned from the humiliation of her exposure to a more pressing problem.  She hadn’t used the facilities in several hours, and the pressure in her bladder was growing.

“I need to use the restroom,” Belinda squeaked.

“In this school, I am addressed as ‘sir,’ and students are required to ask permission to use the potty.  Ask again, properly.”

“Please sir, may I use the potty, please, sir?” Belinda asked meekly.

“Number one or number two?” the principal inquired.

Belinda hardly saw how it mattered, and knew the question was asked solely to embarrass her, but she was in no position to protest.  “Number one, sir” she replied, her voice barely a whisper.

“No, you may not.  You may relieve yourself when you complete your corner time.”  

“But sir…” Belinda protested.

“In this school the potty is a privilege, not a right, and girls make water when I bloody well tell them too!”  The principal thundered.  “Perhaps a trip over my knee, or a dose of the paddle, would take your mind off your privates!”

“No, sir!” Belinda said quickly.  “I’ll hold it sir.”

The principal was not without sympathy.  In fact, he empathized with Belinda’s embarrassing plight so much that he got up and used the restroom adjacent to his office, taking care to leave the door slightly ajar so that Belinda could hear the toilet flush.  Then he asked Miss Rawlings to bring him a nice big pitcher or ice tea, to sooth Belinda with the sound of the pouring water and tinkling ice.

Belinda had become so accustomed to the traffic through the principal’s office that she didn’t flinch when she heard the doorknob turn again.  However her indifference switched to panic when she heard her academic advisor’s familiar voice, “Good to see you again, Frank.  How are you today?”

Belinda’s worst fears were realized.  Professor Winters had arrived, and Belinda was still trapped in her corner!

Belinda pressed her nose tightly into the wall, hoping in vain to disappear, an action that had the unfortunate side effect of causing her bottom to arch up at a most proactive angle.

Belinda blushed crimson as the two men exchanged pleasantries and sat across from each other on the comfortable, overstuffed couches in front of the fireplace.  No doubt by coincidence the seating arrangement offered both of the old lechers a lovely view of Belinda’s deliciously bare bottom.

“Six of the best, with one for good luck!” Professor Winters chuckled, admiring his old friend’s handiwork.  “I see you haven’t lost your touch, Frank. But you should have tried the paddle!”

“Well, if we can’t keep these young scamps on their toes, then it will suffice to keep them touching them!”

Both men shared a hearty laugh at this display of scholastic wit.  And then, to Belinda’s utter shock and surprise, the conversation shifted to football!

For the next twenty minutes, as the pressure in Belinda’s bladder grew, the men jabbered about this team and the injured list as if it mattered.  Neither mentioned the half naked girl standing only a few feet away from them, although Belinda felt sure their beady eyes examining her shapely bottom.  

“They’re ignoring me on purpose,” Belinda thought.  “By talking about their inane sports they’re proving that my corner time is no big deal and that they can pull down my pants and paddle my buns whenever they fancy.  I’m just another delinquent now, and I’ll answer to the cane, and touch my toes, and do my corner time while they chat, just like all the rest.

 

Her understanding of their strategy didn’t make the psychology of her humiliation any less effective.  Belinda could actually feel her confidence and self esteem drain away as she slid helplessly into her new identity as a naughty schoolgirl.

However, as the subject returned to the more pressing topic of “correction”, Belinda realized another reason for her advisor’s seeming indifference.  “If you ask me, what the young women of today need is to have their panties taken down for a good bottom warming!” he humped.  “Speaking of which, what have you done with that little minx Belinda?  Has she arrived yet?”

“He doesn’t recognize me!”  Belinda thought.  “He doesn’t know I’m here!”  

At first, Belinda was confused.  She had seen Professor Winters several times a week, sometimes almost daily, for the last two years.  Surely he recognized her!

 

Then it hit her.  “He’s not looking at my face.  He’s looking at my bare bum.  He doesn’t recognize me because I’m not a well dressed professional, I’m an impudent school girl with her stripes on display.”

For a moment, Belinda hoped that the principal would let her maintain her facade, and let her faculty advisor continue to think that he was ogling the bare bottom of some nameless trollip.   However soon even that tiny hope was dashed.

“You’re looking at her,” the principal said proudly.  “Belinda, turn around and greet your Professor.”

Belinda hesitated for a moment.  In her present undressed state she didn’t want to “greet” anyone, least of all her faculty advisor.  But she also knew that her principal wouldn’t hesitate to discipline her in front of Professor Winters, a thought so chilling that it made Belinda almost dizzy with panic.

Belinda demurely covered her crotch, and turned to face the music.  

The enormous SMILE on Professor Winter’s face spoke volumes, but the principal seemed less pleased.  “I told you to turn around, not lower your hands, Miss Krueger.  Did the cane teach you nothing of obedience?”

Belinda desperately wanted to pull up her panties and unpin her skirt.  Her uniform, as humiliating as it was, at least offered her a semblance of dignity.  But for Belinda dignity was no longer an option.  “Obedience” was the word of the day.

Belinda placed her hands on her head, and bit her lip as her disgusting advisor leered at her, and drank in the sight of everything he had ever wished to see.

“Ah, Miss Krueger!” Professor Winters chuckled.  “I didn’t recognize you…in uniform.”

“Quite understandable,” the principal chuckled.  “If you saw the girls as I do, in the showers in the morning, crowded together under the spray, washing each other’s backs, you’d find them all but indistinguishable.  A sea of bottoms, some striped, some not, but all bare, and all itching for correction.”

The principal turned his attention to the blushing Belinda.  “You may pull up your panties and lower your skirt, Belinda.  Your corner time is complete.”

Belinda quickly complied.  She felt relieved, but defeated.  Despite her mental struggles to resist, the corner time had done its insidious work and the self assured college professor now felt every bit the penitent school girl.  Belinda could only imagine where her punishment fantasy would take her next.

As if reading his student’s mind, Professor Winters asked, “What’s next on the schedule for this little girl?”

“If you’d like to, you can take her down to the nurse.  She needs to be given her shots, and to be examined for contraband, and to make sure she doesn’t have any filthy diseases.”

“Yes, I’d enjoy supervising that,” Professor Winters said, as Belinda’s eyes grew wide as saucers!

“You may wish to take a hairbrush along, in case this impudent piece of baggage gets lippy,” the principal counseled.

“That’s quite alright, Frank,” Professor Winters chuckled.  “My hand will be more than sufficient to administer a memorable correction.  Besides, in Belinda’s case I definitely want to get a feel for the situation…”