Belinda's American Education - Stepmother - Part 4

DING-DING-DING-DING!  

For a moment Belinda thought the school bell was ringing inside her head.  

Belinda groggily opened her eyes and looked out the window to her left.  Why was it still dark?

DING-DING-DING-DING!

Why were there bars on the window?

Where was she?

The clanging bell ceased.  Feminine voices - hundreds of them.  Belinda watched as the women around her roused themselves and opened the lockers at the foot of their beds.

It hadn’t been a nightmare.  Belinda Krueger, 25, heiress, doctorial student, was now a lowly prisoner at Jameson Reformatory. 

Belinda was so disoriented that she nearly fell out of the top bunk.  She stood, barefoot, and surveyed the countless girls stripping off their nightshirts and getting ready.

Ready for what?

“Your locker is at the foot of the bed,” Belinda heard a voice say.  A young woman with red hair pointed at Belinda’s locker.  “Hurry up.  We need to be on the parade grounds in 5 minutes.”

Belinda opened her footlocker.  To her surprise it contained the clothes the other women were changing into, in her size.  Belinda quickly donned the tight blue midriff baring shirt that fit her rather like a sports bra, with the words, Jameson DELINQUENT emblazed across the chest, and a pair of blue running shorts with a similar logo across the seat.  Then she put on her white athletic socks and sneakers, and joined the stream of students heading outside.

Belinda’s elegant gold watch had been seized as “contraband” during processing so she had no idea what time it was.  It was cold and dark, with a light ground fog, but Belinda warmed quickly enough as she joined the other girls racing around the outdoor track.

Belinda was in good shape and ran every day.  After her 4th lap she slowed a bit, but quickly picked up her pace when she spotted a female gym coach using a leather strap to spur the girls on ahead of her.  

Belinda couldn’t change lanes fast enough to avoid the coach, but her pace must have satisfied her as her bottom was spared.

A shrill whistle blew and the girls filed off the track and fell into staggered lines on the parade grounds.  Belinda wasn’t sure where to go but fortunately it didn’t seem to matter.  She joined the 3rd line of girls, 10th from the left, facing the main building.

Belinda looked up at the huge gothic castle.  It was still dark, but the sun was starting to rise, and Belinda could see a number of people sitting at various tables on the second floor deck.  Some spectators sipped their coffee as they watched the girls below assemble while others clustered around the delectables at the large pastry table.

It was cold outside, and Belinda could see the little twirls of steam rising out of their coffee mugs.  A cup of coffee would have been perfect, and Belinda (who hadn’t eaten since yesterday) wouldn’t have objected to a Danish either.  Belinda felt a momentary twinge of envy as her stomach growled.

Belinda’s coffee cake covet was cut short by the shrill authority of the whistle. Belinda Krueger, 3rd row, 10th delinquent from the left, joined the other girls in jumping jacks.

Belinda felt oddly disoriented.  She had expected someone to greet her in the morning; the principal, perhaps, or at least an instructor.  After all, it wasn’t like Belinda was actually an inmate.  Belinda had committed no crime, and she was there to research a paper, not serve a sentence.  

Belinda was astonished when she was swept out of her bunk and out onto the playing fields as if she were just another inmate.  Didn’t they realize who she was?

“I don’t belong here,” Belinda thought.  “Professor Winters and the principal were teasing me yesterday.  Yes, I’m technically a student, but that’s merely a matter of form, an inconsequential play of words, for insurance.  In a few minutes they’ll return my street clothes and escort me to the library to begin my research.”

The whistle blew and Belinda and the other girls switched to squats and hip thrusts.  Belinda noticed that a number of the spectators had binoculars and opera glasses, and seemed very amused at the sight of the young women performing for them.  

Belinda was not amused at all.

Belinda noticed several gym instructors inspecting the ranks, strap in hand, monitoring the girls performance.  Belinda exercised hard enough to avoid the strap, but felt surprised that the instructors passed her without notice, almost as if she were just another prisoner.

Although the girls who surrounded her were all 18 or older, their adolescent gym uniforms labeled them all, both by words and by general appearance, as reformatory delinquents.  Belinda clearly didn’t belong with them!  Was everyone blind?

The whistle blew and Belinda lay on her back and did bicycle kicks.   As she peddled in the air, Belinda looked up at the adults sipping their frappuccinos and munching on the balcony.  “I’m a college professor.  I belong up THERE,” Belinda thought.  “This is a mistake…an oversight.  Surely they must realize that…”

Belinda’s reflection on the cosmic injustice of her predicament was cut short as she caught sight of a woman on the balcony, dressed in pink.  

Pink was her stepmother’s favorite color.  

SNAP!  

Belinda was so distracted by the thought of her stepmother that one of the instructors saw fit to refocus her attention on her exercises.

“OWWW!” Belinda cried out, surprised by the shrill, whiney pitch of her voice.  

“Keep your eyes on the sky, your ass in the air, and your legs kicking,” the muscular female gym teacher snapped.  “Visitors come to the zoo to look at the animals, not the other way around!”

“The zoo?  VISITORS?” Belinda thought.  So her wicked stepmother could be here!  Belinda’s blood ran cold at the thought of the hateful snipe sitting on the balcony.  Belinda and her stepmother had crossed swords often, and Belinda had warned her father she’d do anything to get her way.  Belinda knew the vengeful shrew would relish the sight of her in the humiliating reformatory uniform, leaping about and rolling around on the cold, wet grass, as she savored her coffee and pastries.

The whistle blew and “Legs” by ZZ Top BLARED over the speakers.  Belinda looked to the balcony to see if her stepmother was there, but it took all of her focus to keep up with the unfamiliar aerobics routine.

Belinda assured herself that her stepmother be there.  The thought of having to dance for her stepmother’s entertainment was simply too galling to contemplate.

By the time the aerobics ended and Belinda looked up again the woman in pink was no longer on the balcony, and Belinda breathed a sigh of relief.  

The girls on the other side of the parade ground streamed through the doors on the left while Belinda’s group streamed through the doors on the right.  Belinda wasn’t sure why the girls were being separated but surmised the answer would be apparent soon enough.

As she followed the other girls down the long school hallway Belinda occasionally passed a window or a glass doorway.  Belinda knew that her fellow students were in their twenties or thirties, like her.  However the gym outfits did make them resemble schoolgirls, and Belinda wondered what she looked like in her school kit.

Each times she passed a piece of glass Belinda attempted to catch her reflection, but no matter how intently she stared all she saw was a stream of identically clad school girls heading down the hallway.  

She contemplated stopping, or waving at herself, but the frowning teacher who had strapped her was trailing only a few feet behind her.  Belinda certainly didn’t want to loiter or slow down the group!

Belinda streamed into the cafeteria and stood in line with her classmates for breakfast.  The oatmeal was bland but the orange was reasonably fresh and when Belinda raised her hand a matron came by and dumped some Bosco into her milk.

Although the teachers chatted the girls ate in total silence, which gave Belinda plenty of time to contemplate her meal.   Breakfast was served on an old metal pie tin but the spoon and Belinda’s drinking cup were plastic, and they made a big show of handing out the spoons, presumably so extras couldn’t be used as weapons.

Belinda’s spoon could barely break through her crusty oatmeal and was no threat to anyone.  Her classmates seemed as cowed as you would expect in an institution where the slightest infraction was rewarded with corporal punishment.  Belinda deduced the security seemed to be more about making the women FEEL like delinquents than any actual threat.

The psychology of the place was certainly working on Belinda.  She was famished, and although she felt like an extra in a Jimmy Cagney prison film she dutifully wolfed down her breakfast with the other inmates.

Belinda looked up as the principal entered.  Belinda smiled as he walked toward her table, confident that her deliverance was at hand.  

Belinda was astonished when the principal walked past without even bothering to make eye contact. Belinda was stunned; given their lengthy “conversation” the previous day she thought that he would at least nod, or acknowledge her presence in some way.

Then Belinda realized something she hadn’t before.  “He wasn’t being rude; he didn’t recognize me.  He didn’t notice me because I’m in a room with hundreds of other girls, and I look like just another reformatory delinquent.”

Belinda looked down at her distorted reflection in the tin.  “I am a prisoner.  I couldn’t see myself in the mirror because I’m the same as they are.  I’m not a hotshot college professor anymore.  I’m just another naughty schoolgirl, and if I don’t mind my betters they’ll pull down my pants and toast my buns!”

The whistle blew; breakfast was over.  Jameson’s newest delinquent stood and waited while the dangerous plastic spoons were counted and collected.

As Belinda and her classmates streamed out of the cafeteria, the doors on the other side of the vast dining hall opened and the other girls streamed in.  Belinda recognized them as the girls from the other side of the parade ground; obviously meals were staggered to accommodate the large number of students.

Belinda immediately noted two clues as to what the other half had been doing while she had been dining:  

1)  The girls were now dressed in their school uniforms
2)  Their hair was wet

Belinda felt a tiny chill as a terrifying word flashed into her mind:  SHOWERS!

Belinda was very pretty, and in excellent physical shape, but she was painfully shy.   Belinda had always despised public showers, and had selected her expensive private preparatory school in no small part based on its individual, curtained shower stalls and changing areas.

Belinda did not belong to a health club, and exercised at home, for reasons of modesty.  The thought of parading around a common locker room in front of anyone who cared to look at her shocked her.  

Belinda?  Naked?  In front of everyone?

Belinda felt queasy.   Refusal was not an option, and (as she learned to her chagrin yesterday) modesty was a luxury of her past.

Belinda allowed the crowd of girls to push her through the steel doors into the cold, institutional, concrete shower room.  As she viewed the shower area itself Belinda felt seasick:  an enormous sunken depression in the floor with a maze of steel tubes overhead to provide the rain of water.  There were some metal soap dispensers every six or eight feet, mounted into the floor, but there were no curtains and no doors.  There wasn’t even a pillar to hide behind.

“New girl!” a voice called, and Belinda turned to discover a large, beefy matron standing behind her.  “Locker 1860” she said.  “Leave your gym uniform in there.  Your school uniform is on the top shelf; you can change after you shower.”  Belinda nodded and made a mental note of the number.  

The silence rule apparently didn’t apply in the locker room and Belinda made her way through the sea of stripping, chatting, smiling students towards locker 1860.  

Belinda sat down on the bench in front of her locker and removed her shoes and socks.  The girls around her all seemed to know each other, but that was fine, because Belinda’s mind was on the horrifyingly exposed shower area and she didn’t want to make friends.

“Hi, my name is Alice!”

Belinda turned to encounter a plain looking woman with brown hair and glasses.  She smiled and held out her hand, and Belinda shook, more than a little reluctantly since Alice was already topless.

“I’d hurry if I were you,” Alice warned.  “The last one in gets the strap!”

Belinda, who could still feel the stripes from her first day’s “orientation” as she sat on the hard wooden bench, needed no further encouragement.  Fortunately the school greatly foreshortened the stripping process by giving the girls little to wear.  Belinda’s panties, shorts, and gym top were soon in the locker, and Belinda found herself moving down a crowded aisle of girls wearing only a nervous frown.

Although a few of the girls seemed blasé, Belinda and most of the other girls did their best to cover their most sensitive parts with their hands and arms.

The center aisle leading into the shower area was crowded, and the teachers at the rear of the group pressed the girls forward, packing them together.  To her dismay Belinda was soon pressing against several of her naked classmates even as she looked ahead and tried to figure out what the hold up was.

As she moved to the front of the line Belinda realized that the girls were being corralled at the entrance to the shower and released into the water five at a time by a hulking gym instructor.  

Belinda wasn’t surprised that the gym instructor was large or taciturn, or that he slapped the girls across their bare fannies to “release” them into the showers.  What shocked her was the instructor was male.

Belinda was flabbergasted at the concept of a male teacher in the locker room, but matters soon got worse.  Belinda notice three other male instructors were watching, joking, and laughing as the naked girls sprinted past them into the showers.

Belinda watched with dismay as the five jiggling bottoms ahead of her raced into the water.  Belinda could tell from the broad grins that the men were greatly enjoying the show.  A show in which Belinda was about to star!

“Next!”

The command was given, and Belinda joined her group in the race towards the water.  The blushing, barefoot Belinda tried to race across the freezing concrete floor as quickly as she could, but apparently she wasn’t quick enough, for as she passed, the male instructor gave Belinda a resounding SLAP! across her naked fanny.  

Belinda let out a comical, plaintiff yelp, like a dog whose tail had been stepped on.  Belinda heard the men laugh, which was bad, but the blow also caused her to slow her pace and turn to look at her backside, which was worse.

As she looked down at the faint crisscrossing red marks on her bottom Belinda overheard one man comment favorably on the “perfect spacing” of her lines.  His friend commented that they should “get her name, since her ass would make a perfect checkerboard for our lunchtime game.”

Belinda’s ears burned as his companion laughed in hearty agreement.  Belinda hoped the two men were kidding, but given all that she had seen she could easily imagined herself kneeling between the two men with her bottom raised for their game.  Desperate to escape their attention she scampered into the shower with the other girls.

The water was warm and relaxing, and Belinda shut her eyes and luxuriated for a moment in the first comforting physical sensation she had since she had handed over her silk lingerie the day before.  

Belinda was surrounded by dozens of other naked women, and she was acutely conscious of the male (and a few female) teachers leering at her from their various posts at the edge of the shower.  Belinda tried to turn away from them, but wherever she looked she faced a smiling audience.  

To Belinda the brightly lit shower area seemed more like a Broadway stage than a bathing area, and she nervously chewed her lip as she tried to ignore the prying eyes examining her every curve.  

"At least they're strangers," she thought.  "It would be worse to  shower in front of someone I knew!"

The soap was a coarse, grainy dry powder, with green flecks of disinfectant.  The soap burned, but Belinda dutifully lathered herself for her admirer’s amusement, clad only in soapsuds and the consolation of her anonymity.  

Soon even that tiny consolation vanished.  Behind her she heard a familiar voice, “I see it didn’t take her long to earn her stripes.  The first of many, no doubt!”

NO!!  It couldn’t be!

Belinda looked over her shoulder.  To her horror she spotted Ethan Buckley, her tubby, stuck up, insufferable would-be suitor at the edge of the shower, staring directly at her striped backside.

Ethan had asked Belinda out more times than she cared to remember.  Belinda had actually thrown champagne in his face once when his drunken octopus like advances got out of hand…

Ethan was self centered, unpleasant, and conceited, and Belinda had vowed years before she would never date him.  She had kept her word, but as Ethan ogled her shapely backside Belinda realized that he was seeing everything he wanted to see without the wasted overhead of buying her dinner.

Belinda felt as if she'd die of shame as she felt Ethan's eyes rove up and down her blushing, buck naked form.

"Get it clean, Krueger!” the matron next to Ethan barked. “Mr. Buckley would like to see you in my office after your shower.”

“Mister” indeed!  Ethan Buckley was a dirty, filthy pervert and Belinda wanted to poke out his  ogling eyes with a hot poker!

Instead Belinda finished her shower as she watched the matron lead "Mister" Ethan Buckley to her office, to await her arrival, all spic-and-span!

The disinfectant soap burned as Belinda rubbed it into all of the places a girl has to rub soap when she’s sweaty…or excited.  For despite her humiliation, or perhaps because of it, Belinda was once again aroused, and once again fiercely determined not to let anyone know her secret, particularly Ethan Buckley!

The shrill whistle blew, and Belinda quickly wrapped herself in a towel and followed the other girls towards the locker.   To her surprise, the matron who had been standing next to Buckley cut her off.  

“My office is the other way,” she said flatly.

“I have to get changed first,” Belinda said, her voice smaller and squeakier than she wished.

“No you don’t,” the matron said, grinning evilly.  “This party is come-as-you-are.”

The matron grabbed Belinda by the ear and frog marched her past the other girls and into the office where Ethan Buckley sat waiting for her.

Although Belinda’s face was contorted into a painful grimace, Ethan was all smiles as he watched Belinda enter wearing nothing more than the short, institutional green towel she had wrapped tightly around herself to cover what needed to be covered.

As soon as the butch gym instructor released her ear, Belinda turned to Ethan.

“What are YOU doing here?” Belinda spat, in a tone that was more accusation than question.

“You’re stepmother invited me,” Ethan replied cheerfully.  “Naturally, when she explained what had happened I wanted to see how you were getting on.”

“My stepmother’s HERE?” Belinda said, horrified at the thought.

“Yes, she’s upstairs.  We watched you do your calisthenics this morning,” he added, smiling broadly.

“She was here?” Belinda stuttered, appalled.  Her gold digging stepmother HAD been on the balcony after all!

“Yes, you put on quite a show for us.  Of course it pales in comparison to the show you put on just now.”

Belinda glared as Ethan looked down at her bare feet then slowly ran his eyes up, up, up her bare legs.  He stopped for a moment at the hem of the towel, which barely covered her, and continued on to the disheveled tussle of wet hair atop her head.

“You’re an asshole,” Belinda said, not bothering to conceal her disgust.

“I would have thought that those stripes would have curbed your tongue,” Ethan replied crisply.  “Not to worry; I’m sure your instructors will discipline you until you learn your place.”

“We will indeed,” the gym teacher threatened.  Belinda shuddered slightly as she noticed the teacher look first at the cabinet, which contained a veritable arsenal of straps, paddles, and canes, and then back at Belinda’s nearly naked, shivering form.

“May I get dressed now, Miss?” Belinda said, ignoring Ethan.  It was cold, and Belinda very much wanted clothes!

“No you may not,” Ethan said.  “I enjoyed examining the stripes on your bottom, but since you quite rudely kept your back to me it was impossible to tell if you washed properly.  Give me your towel.”

Belinda stared at him while her brain struggled to register his outrageous request.  Give up her towel?  Didn’t he realize that under her flimsy towel she was STARK NAKED?

“You have no right…” Belinda stammered.

"I have every right.  I am an adult male, a taxpayer, who is visiting this institution as their guest.  You, on the other hand, are a reformatory delinquent.  I wish to verify that you washed properly.  You will obey, or you will be taught respect for your betters.”

Belinda glared daggers at him, at least until the gym instructor walked across and reached for the cabinet handle…

Belinda clenched her teeth, undid her towel, and threw it at Ethan.    

Ethan smiled broadly, pleased both with what he saw and the way it was presented to him.  Belinda Krueger, the girl who he wanted for years, the girl who had thrown champagne in his face, the girl who had ridiculed and scorned him in front of everyone, was now standing before him naked as Eve.

Ethan fondled the towel as his eyes wandered freely up and down her naked form.  Delightful!  Positively delightful!

Belinda did not share Ethan’s delight.  Her stomach turned as he fondled her with his eyes, slowly examining her most intimate details.  

“This is what it’s like to be a reformatory delinquent,” Belinda thought.   “You fantasized about this for years, and now it’s happening.  To be treated like a cheap tart with no pride or dignity.  To tremble before the paddle, to be institutionalized, to be pranced around naked in front of anyone who cares to watch... even Ethan Buckley!”

At that moment, Belinda despised Ethan Buckley more than she had ever hated anyone.  But then why was the wonderful sensation between her thighs growing?

Ethan and, in her own way, Belinda, would have been pleased to let the humiliating show-and-tell last forever, but the gym teacher had another class.  

“Perhaps she should get dressed now,” she suggested, eyeing her watch.

“Quite right,” Ethan said, giving Belinda one last lingering look.  “We don’t want to keep her stepmother waiting.”

Belinda felt a sudden rush of anxiety as she remembered her hated stepmother waiting for her upstairs.  The only thing worse than having Ethan see her naked was to have her stepmother see her in her humiliating, juvenile school uniform!

“Cover yourself, you little slut,” Ethan smirked as he contemptuously tossed Belinda her towel.  “We can’t have you parading about like some half assed Lady Godiva!”

Ethan might have called Belinda “half assed,” but it was her full ass he ogled as she scurried out of the office towards her locker, wrapping herself in her towel as she went.  

Ethan smiled.  It was a lovely bottom; the stripes from her caning made it lovelier still.  Fortunately there were plenty more where those came from!

"Belinda!” Miss Rawlings purred, smiling like they were old friends.  “Go right in.  Your stepmother and your friends are waiting for you.  LOVELY people, if I do say so myself.”

Belinda’s stepmother was anything but lovely, and Miss Rawlings and Belinda both knew it.  Belinda resisted the urge to use the hole puncher on Miss Rawling’s craggily old nose and obediently knocked on the principal’s door.

“Come in,” the principal said, making it clear from his officious tone that he was ready for business.

Belinda steeled herself to the ordeal ahead and reluctantly opened the door.

At 22, Brittany wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer, but she excelled at manipulating men.  She had married Belinda’s father after a whirlwind courtship, much to Belinda’s dismay.  Brittany knew that her stepdaughter looked down on her as stupid, vain, and greedy, and she boiled at Belinda’s incessant references to her lack of education and breeding.

Brittany smiled broadly as the uniformed Belinda gently closed the door and reluctantly walked over to join the adults.  In a wonderful twist of fate, Brittany’s supercilious, know-it-all stepdaughter now looked exactly like a naughty teenager!

“How is my father?” Belinda asked anxiously.

“We’ll discuss that later,” Brittany replied dismissively.  “Come closer, child.  Let’s have a good look at you, shall we?”

Belinda was galled that her stepmother, three years her junior, had the nerve to refer to her as child, but that was the least of her worries.  Belinda’s stepmother sat on a plain wooden chair, while Ethan shared the couch with another woman, 30, plainly dressed.  

It took Belinda a moment to recognize her, since she was no longer wearing her maid’s uniform.  It was Agnes Crust, a servant whom Belinda had caught stealing, and whom Belinda’s father had fired without references.

Ethan & Agnes!  Obviously Belinda’s stepmother had defined her promise to bring Belinda’s ‘friends’ in the most ironic way imaginable, and had carefully selected the two people on earth who would most relish seeing Belinda cut down to size.
 
Belinda’s stepmother refocused Belinda’s attention by beckoning her forward with a crooked finger and a hideously broad smile.  

Belinda reluctantly presented herself to her stepmother for inspection.  Belinda was wearing the standard reformatory uniform – white socks, black shoes, white blouse, school tie, a blazer with the school’s logo, and a skirt which was (in Belinda’s opinion) much to short for her!

Belinda clenched her teeth as her smiling stepmother looked her up and down.

“My, isn’t that a lovely uniform!” her stepmother gushed, relishing every moment of her red faced stepdaughter’s humiliation.  “I’m so relieved they had the good sense to take away all of your adult things, and dress you in a manner appropriate to the way you behave.”

Agnes chortled loudly on the couch as Belinda clenched her tiny fists in frustration.  She had thought that standing naked in front Ethan Buckley was the worst humiliation possible, but standing in front of her smiling, cackling stepmother was infinitely worse!

“The last time we met, you referred to me as immature and childish.  Who’s immature now?  Which one of us looks childish?”

Belinda was too mortified to speak.  Instead, she stared at her shoes as her stepmother gloated.  “Turn around,” her stepmother said curtly.

Belinda, consumed by her new role, meekly obeyed.

“I see you’ve gotten your first set of lines,” Belinda’s stepmother said, chuckling at the red marks on the backs of Belinda’s thighs.

“The first of many, I hope,” Buckley added.

“Belinda enrolled here to learn our corporal punishment techniques,” the principal explained. “I’m sure over the next few weeks there will be ample time for personal instruction.”

“If I were in charge I’d spank her pampered ass with a hairbrush every day!” Agnes snarled.  “They certainly didn’t hesitate to use the sticks on me when I was in prison.”

Belinda was only mildly surprised to learn that her former maid had been in prison.  Apparently Agnes’s criminal activities had not been limited to stealing from her employer’s.

“What’s SHE doing here?” Belinda asked, looking at Agnes accusingly.

“Agnes rejoined our household staff after your father took ill,” Brittany explained.  “She prepares his food and administers his medicines.  And when you return, home, she’ll see to your discipline as well, my dear.”

Agnes chuckled, and Belinda felt a flush of panic.  Not at the threat of Agnes disciplining her, which was clearly absurd.  Belinda knew her beloved father would never agree to hiring a convicted criminal who had once stolen from the family, and realized that Brittany must be more in control than she had thought if she had that sort of power.

“Speaking of discipline, I had a wonderful chat with your principal about your first night here,” Brittany said.  “Did you sleep well?

“Yes,” Belinda said, tensing slightly under her stepmother’s penetrating gaze.

“And what about before you went to sleep?  Did you enjoy yourself?” her stepmother asked, sharpening her inquiry.

Belinda’s stepmother smiled as a tiny bead of nervous sweat ran down Belinda’s forehead.  Belinda was squirming now and Brittany was loving every minute of it.

“I’m quite sure I don’t know what you mean,” Belinda replied, struggling to sound nonchalant.

Agnes cut to the chase.  “They have you on the security tape, love.   No use lying about it.  You were frigging yourself, plain as day!”

“I’m only sorry she did it under the covers,” Ethan added dryly.  

“Yes, but you should have seen your face!” Agnes said, chuckling lewdly.  “Such expressions!”

Belinda stared at the adults in disbelief.  They had caught her pleasuring herself! Belinda’s heart sank as she imagined the three of them snickering as they watched her perform the most intimate and private act imaginable, laughing as her excitement built…

A rush of strange, long forgotten emotions overtook her and Belinda once again experienced the sharp pain of being a teenager.  She felt awkward, embarrassed, angry, helpless, resentful, lonely, humiliated, and a dozen other things she couldn’t even describe, and she felt them all at once.  

“The principal has agreed to leave this matter to me,” Belinda’s stepmother said, unable to suppress her glee.  “What do you think I should do about this, young lady?”

Belinda’s jaw dropped as the realization of what was about to happen hit her like the proverbial ton of bricks.  To her horror Belinda realized why her stepmother was seated in a chair apart from the others.  Brittany was going to spank her!

It couldn’t be!  Belinda turned to the princpal , but he looked back at her with his placid disapproving stare.  As she looked into his withering gaze it all made perfect sense.  In his eyes Belinda was a naughty, disobedient teen, a dirty little slut who needed a lesson in ladylike behavior over her mother’s knee.

Belinda realized there was no way out.  She was a reformatory delinquent who had broken the rules, and she must be punished.  There was nothing to discuss.

Belinda, her self-esteem in tatters, her confidence shattered, turned back and looked down helplessly at her seated, grinning stepmother.  A teen once more, Belinda felt totally under her stepmother’s thumb.

Belinda, recalling her ordeal with Professor’s Winters, knew that arguing only made it worse.  

“I should be punished,” Belinda said, her voice barely a whisper.

“Speak up, girl!” Ethan barked.  “We can’t hear you back here.”

“I SHOULD BE PUNISHED!” Belinda shouted, her voice finally giving vent to her frustration.

“Watch that tone of voice, young lady,” the principal warned.  “I’ll remind you that there’s a wooden cane in my cabinet, a cane that still demands your respect.”

Belinda flashed back to her first visit, when she had asked to touch the cane.  Belinda had felt so adult, so confident, so powerful.  Could it really have been yesterday?  It seemed like eons ago!

“I think you should put a big sign on her that reads, “Stinky Finger,” so the other girls will know what she did!” Agnes snickered.

Her stepmother’s shrill voice shocked Belinda back to the present.  “And how should dirty little girls who rub themselves where they shouldn’t be punished?” she taunted.

Belinda examined her shoes.  “They should be spanked, ma’am” she said meekly, anxious to move quickly through this particular aspect of the ritual.

“Belinda, get over my knee,” her stepmother ordered.

Belinda bit her lip, but obeyed.  A veteran since yesterday, Belinda carefully positioned herself in the optimal position for her chastisement so as to avoid the humiliation of the repositioning ceremony.

Belinda flinched as her stepmother merrily flipped up her skirt.  Belinda didn’t wait for the order to raise her hips.

Ethan let out a slow wolf whistle as Belinda’s lovely bare backside came into view.  Agnes laughed out loud.

Belinda chewed her lip and examined the carpet on the floor of the principal’s office.  What else was there to do?

There was a brief pause as the princpal walked something over. While she couldn't see, Belinda had a flash of fear as it seemed he passed something to Brittany.

"Thank you", Brittany said.

Then it started.  “Do you promise to be good?” her stepmother patronized, punctuating the question with a SPANK!

“Ouch! Yes, ma’am!” Belinda replied, loud enough for even Ethan to hear. Apparently she was right, the principal had given Brittany a hairbrush. And it stung like fire!

“Do you promise to do as your told?” SPANK!

“Yes, ma’am!”, she squirmed desperate to maintain her composure.

“Do you promise to mind your betters?”  SPANK!

“OW!  Yes!  I promise, Ma’am!”

“And to treat me with the proper respect?”  SPANK! SPANK!

“Ow!  Yes!  Always!”, Belinda was breathing heavily now. She was determined not to cry but her ass was burning and it didn't help she had gotten stripes earlier. Just those few spanks had started a fire on her behind.

“Now Belinda, I don't want to do this but we can't let you off without a real lesson.  The principal and I agreed that we should record this transgression in the form of demerits.  If, by the next punishment night, you have accumulated sufficient demerits, I will be invited back to witness your proper punishment in the gymnasium.”

“And a right proper punishment it will be!” Agnes cackled.  “You’ll be strapped down in the gym, with your bottom raised high and bare, and a whole roomful of people watching!  You’ll get a right good paddling, and your pretty little ass will dance a jig for everyone to see.”

Belinda vowed not to earn any more demerits.

“I sincerely hope that won’t be necessary,” Belinda’s stepmother said, her voice dripping with phoniness.

Then the hairbrush continued its tattoo. Despite her best attempts Belinda was quickly squirming and bucking. Her hands scrabbled helplessly on the ground as Brittany easily held Belinda over her knee. Tears were flowing and Belinda couldn't stop the sobs. Finally there was a pause.

"It seems like she's learning a lesson, don't you think?" Brittany asked as she looked around at the audience. She was enjoying every second of this as the others nodded or smirked. The principal had an approving look on his face. Brittany squeezed one of Belinda's cheeks with her hand. Just a light squeeze at first and Belinda was squirming and crying again. Brittany couldn't resist kneading a bit more. It was almost as effective as a spanking as Belinda mewed and kicked her legs at the pain.

"Do you think you've learned your lesson dear?" Brittany purred as she rested her arm.

Belinda couldn't speak at first as she was gasping and crying but she knew she better answer. "Y-y-yes," she managed to get out. "Please, I'm sorry."

"Hmmm," Brittany had a fake quizzical smile on her face as she considered things. "Well it does seem like this spanking is working." She paused dramatically and then grinned. "But I think its safer if we deal with this strictly. I am your mother after all." And with that she resumed spanking as hard as she could with the hairbrush.

By the time she finished poor Belinda had a scarlet behind and tears and snot dripping down her face. Her throat was sore from the howling. She was then allowed to stand and sent to a corner while the others congratulated Brittany on a job well done.

"Perhaps I should hire you to help with the girls," the principal joked as they all laughed.
 

Finally, Agnes and Ethan left, after securing promises to be invited back to “punishment night,” whenever it might be.

For the next 45 minutes, Belinda fumed and sulked in the corner and listened as the principal and her despised stepmother Brittany discussed her manners, friends, and most of all her “attitude.”  

Belinda ground her teeth and squirmed in helpless frustration. The pain had subsided but the humiliation of being spanked to tears over her younger stepmothers lap remained.

At the principal’s suggestion, Belinda escorted her stepmother to the front gate…or at least as close to the front gate as Belinda, as a lowly student, was allowed to venture.

“I’ll come back and see you when you have enough demerits for a proper punishment,” Belinda’s stepmother said.  “I’ll enjoy watching you ride the spanking horse.”

“You won’t get away with this,” Belinda hissed.  “When my father’s better…”

“Your father isn’t going to get better, dear; I’m going to make sure of that.  But don’t worry.  When he’s gone I’ll take the steps required to have you committed to this institution indefinitely.  Some narcotics in your flat should do the trick.  Then I’ll be able to manage your family’s fortune MY way.”

As she watched her grinning stepmother sashay through the front gate of the reformatory, Belinda realized her beloved father’s life was in danger.  

Belinda silently vowed that no matter what it took, or what was required of her, she had to escape and save her father’s life.