Belinda's American Education - Preparation for Punishment - Part 6

[Continued from  Belinda's American Education - Part 5]

The fact that she couldn’t possibly have contraband did not deter Miss Rawlings.  Belinda sobbed openly as garment by garment she slowly surrendered her dignity again. 

“This must be difficult for you, such an educated lady,” Miss Rawlings purred, as Belinda reluctantly relinquished her clothes.  “But we have rules. You should be wearing the regulation blue blazer with the school logo on it, so even if you do make it over the wall everyone who sees you will peg you as a snotty little brat who needs a good fanny tanning!  And that, my dear, is precisely what you are going to get!”
 
Rather than allowing her to strip at the Nurse’s office, Miss Rawlings “saved time” by forcing poor Belinda to strip near the storage area where her clothes were kept.  Then Miss Rawlings took the blushing Belinda by the ear and marched her, buck naked, past numerous groups of workmen on the long trek to the nurse’s office.

A bit breezy today, isn’t it love?” one of the workers called out as the furiously blushing Belinda stumbled past.

“Covering the milk duds and cat, I see” a crude man in overalls snickered.  “But we can still see your lovely buns!”

It only got worse.  Miss Rawlings watched closely as Belinda was examined, inside and out, by the gruff nurse.  “If you give me the tank, I can delouse her outside,” Miss Rawlings suggested.  “That way, she won’t stink up your office.”

The nurse agreed, and Miss Rawlings marched Belinda out in front of the building – in full view of the men who were laying the new sidewalk!

“Please, not here,” Belinda sniveled.  “I’m sorry I was rude!  I thought…I thought I was …”

“Spread your legs,” was Miss Rawlings icy reply.

The delousing was incredibly thorough.  Miss Rawlings did her work well, and the young woman whom Miss Rawlings dumped back into class 30 minutes later appeared to be just another new arrival.  Dazed, reeking of disinfectants, Belinda, once again in uniform, stumbled to her desk, and wondered where her old identity had gone.

After dinner Miss Rawlings marched Belinda out to the birch grove to select the rods for her chastisement.  As she walked down the path Detective Duncan drove past.  Belinda waved, but Detective Duncan did not recognize her.   Why should she?  Although she was 25, Belinda bore scant resemblance to the accomplished young professional woman who had plotted strategy with her in the Headmaster’s office.  Indeed, to her great dismay Belinda knew that she was entirely indistinguishable from the other scamps and delinquents who exercised, picked weeds, mowed lawns, and decorated the landscaped of the heavily guarded reformatory grounds.

Selecting the correct birch rods was a lengthy process as Miss Rawlings was quite particular about the choosing precisely the right sticks to teach Belinda her shameful and painful lesson.

“No, no, these are too brittle.  The Headmaster will swing hard and fast, and old branches like this will snap as soon as they hit that tight bottom of yours.  You want switches that still have some sap in so they’ll bend over your rump and make your naughty little fanny wiggle and jump and dance!”

 “Oh no!  These are much two short.  With long branches the tip can pick up speed as it whistles through the air.  Remember your stepmother is going to be watching, and she’ll want to hear you yelp on every stroke!”

Belinda blanched as she imagined her stepmother watching smugly as her stripes were laid on.  Belinda knew that her Brittany would insist that punishment be exemplary and would relish the chance to see Belinda put in her place.  

Brittany, 22, was younger than Belinda and lacked her stepdaughter’s erudition and education.  Belinda regarded her as a common gold digger and enjoyed talking down to her.  The idea of Brittany watching as Belinda was punished like a naughty schoolgirl was unspeakably humiliating, but Belinda told herself that it was necessary.

Belinda was comforted by the knowledge that she was saving her father’s life and that someday, somehow, Brittany’s turn would come.  Indeed, if there were truly any “justice” in the Universe it would be Brittany’s backside would one day experience the chastisement that she had so cruelly arranged for her innocent stepdaughter.

“No, you want one with more buds and twigs.  The little twigs will cut into your bottom in the most delightfully unexpected ways, and will make each stroke a brand new day!” Miss Rawlings chuckled.  “Remember those fraternity hooligans you flunked out will be watching.  Those little buds will make you jerk your fanny up and spread your legs, so the boys can have a nice long look.”

Belinda blushed and bit her lip as she imagined the leering, sneering frat rats ogling her charms.   The hateful cretins had undressed her with their eyes all semester, and she had silently fumed as she had heard their sly whispers about her long legs and shapely bottom.  Belinda vowed to grasp the bench tightly between her bare thighs and keep her legs closed.  No matter how much the birch burned, she simply could not give them the pleasure of seeing her spread her legs like a common reformatory guttersnipe!

Belinda’s stomach turned as the grinning Miss Rawlins selected a long, thick branch bristling with buds and twigs.  Miss Rawlings ordered Belinda to cut from the trunk so that it would be as long and whippy as possible.  

Belinda shivered as she freed the perfect tool for her chastisement.  How would she ever be able to keep her legs closed with such a wicked stick slicing up her lovely bottom?  Belinda would want to maintain her dignity, but the branch would have the final say.

Belinda placed the branch in the waiting bucket of brine, mixed especially by Miss Rawlings to make the branches as flexible as possible.  “One down,” Miss Rawlings snickered, “many, many more to go!”

“What was that sugar you made me fetch when we first met?’” Miss Rawlings mused, as she SWISHED her next selection, a particularly bristly and vicious rod, through the air.  “Yes, I remember:  Sweet & Lo.  That’s how you’re stripes are going to be laid on, sweet and low, with Professor Winters, and the frat boys, and that lovely Nigel Prigs watching.  I imagine they are all going to enjoy watching you eat a nice big slice of humble pie.”  SWISH! SWISH! SWISH!  “And this is the perfect little sizzler to make sure you swallow every spec!”

Miss Rawlings made Belinda select branch after branch, determined as she was to make sure that they would never run short of fresh, snappy rods with which to punish Belinda’s naughty bottom.  To Belinda it seemed that they had collected enough sticks to chastise every delinquent in the nation, but Miss Rawlings was infatigable, and clearly loved her work.

Under Miss Rawlings’ direction, Belinda checked the progress of the soaking switches each morning.  To her alarm Belinda quickly realized that with every hour the punishment sticks were becoming ever more flexible and supple.

Belinda’s fanny cheeks involuntarily clenched as the grinning Miss Rawlings SWISHED the birch bundles through the air, baptizing Belinda with little drops of brine on every stroke.  Belinda’s heart pounded as Miss Rawlings laughed at her reaction, and predicted a wonderful ride over the bench for both Belinda and her many “admirers.”
Miss Rawlings commanded Belinda’s aid in preparing the brightly colored  “Punishment Program” that served as a guide for the evening’s “corrections.”   To her embarrassment, the guide included several choice selections from Belinda’s thesis, extolling the wonders of the punishment that Belinda was about to receive, and a biography of each of the girls being punished, including Belinda.

As her contribution to the degrading “program” Belinda was forced to write an autobiography detailing her many academic and community accomplishments.  The guide included a photograph of Belinda in her smart professional attire, accepting an award as the academic of the year.  A photograph on the opposite page contrasted the “new” Belinda:  a full-length photograph of the diffident, blushing schoolgirl in her shameful school uniform.  
Belinda knew the biography was specifically designed to rip away her last bit of dignity, the shield of her anonymity.  Courtesy of the shameful program everyone in the audience would be free to enjoy the irony of Belinda’s thesis, and revel in her humbling transformation from Professor to reformatory delinquent.

With clenched teeth Belinda wrote the absurdly cheerful “Welcome!” section of the program, the text of which framed a photograph of a smiling, uniformed Belinda:

******
Welcome, and thank you so much for coming!

My name is Belinda Krueger, and prior to my incarceration I was an Associate Professor and PhD student.  As part of my research into the effectiveness of corporal punishment I asked the Principal of Jameson to enroll me as a student so that I could gain firsthand experience to support my doctoral thesis.

In my initial dissertation I charged that the punishment of adult women was gratuitous, unnecessary.  However my research was shoddy and second hand, and it quickly became obvious that I was passing judgment on matters I could scarcely comprehend.  When I realized my folly I begged for admittance to this institution for the chance to experience first hand the benefits of the corporal punishment I had once so foolishly denounced.

During my first evening at Jameson I disgraced my proud uniform when I was caught on tape abusing myself like a randy teenager.  Through my indecent behavior I have proven myself no better than the reformatory ruffians I was sent to research.  I am grateful to the principal for providing me with the structure and discipline I need, and each of you, for taking the time to witness my wholesome, just, and edifying correction.

At Miss Rawlings’ insistence Belinda autographed each of the 250 programs personally, dotting the first “i” with a heart and the second “i” with an adorable smiley face.  250 times Belinda was forced to look at her stupid, grinning face, and imagine the amused chuckles as the men and women read about her self abuse and her humbling plea for “correction.”
 
Assuming that Belinda’s conduct was proper on the days leading up to her punishment and punishment night itself, she would be spared the shame and pain of further punishment.  Needless to say, Belinda was absurdly obedient and obsequious to Miss Rawlings, since she knew the old battleaxe desperately wanted to make Belinda dance further.

Belinda felt the injustice of her sentence keenly.  Belinda was merely trying to save her father from a desperate situation.  Everyone agreed that her so-called “escape” was in fact a commendable and selfless act designed to spare her father’s life.    Why, then, must she be punished?

Although Belinda had often fantasized about attending a punishment night, as her execution date grew nearer her trepidation grew.  Her heart would race as she thought of the crowd, and the punishment bench, and the strap whistling through the air.  Belinda would be stripped of her dignity and reduced to the status of naughty, sniveling delinquent…with her hated stepmother there to savor every moment of her fall.

Why did Belinda have to be strapped?  Perhaps if Brittany spoke with her beforehand they could secure her confession and Belinda could escape punishment.  It seemed so simple…if only she could convince the principal.  

Fortunately, the principal was willing to meet with her.  He smiled, a bit patronizingly, Belinda thought, as she presented her carefully crafted case.  When she finished her eloquent argument, the principal spoke.

“At the time of your infraction you were in fact, a reformatory student. Regardless that you were self-enrolled. The rules still apply. And although your motives were valid, the approach you took was not.”

“Besides this, there is the matter of your scandalous and flagrant self-abuse, and your repeated requests to witness a punishment night.  Professor Winters seems to feel that your interest in punishments is more than academic.  In fact, he thinks you are not a lady at all, but a nasty little scrubber who likes to read dirty stories on the web and diddle herself and play stinky-finger while she gloats over images of young women bent bare for the lash.”

“I imagine a meeting with Professor Winters will settle the dispute quickly enough.   I will take you over my knee, pull down your panties, and brighten your saucy fanny.  Then we’ll check between your legs to see if you’re the juicy slut Professor Winters thinks you are.  Of course if he is correct, I might need to revise your punishment night sentence to include a dose of the birch.”

The principal tried to sound stern, but as he watched Belinda he couldn’t help but smile.  Belinda had been the picture of confidence when she was presenting her case, but as he kicked the pegs out from under her she began biting her lip and fidgeting in front of his desk.  Before his amused eyes Professor Belinda Krueger transformed into a naughty girl caught with her hand in her panties.

“If Professor Winters suspicions are correct, then what could be more just than seeing a randy little diddler getting the very punishment she wished for others?  Our guests won’t be violating the privacy of a proper young lady wrongfully accused.  They would be gawking at the bare ass and naked quim of a randy reformatory slut, who is getting the whipping she deserves.”

The Professor tried not to smile as the stammering, blushing, fidgeting Belinda spent the next several minutes trying to convince him that no further investigation was necessary.  Indeed, much to his amusement, by the end of their meeting Belinda was practically begging the principal to let her off with “only the strap”!

Belinda thought punishment night would never come!  The preparations were endless.  She re-sewed a frayed strap on her punishment bench.  She checked the RSVP reservations.  She polished and oiled the strap and prepared the programs.

Then, before she knew it, punishment night arrived, and Belinda felt like she would do anything for one more day.

Belinda was assigned the task of greeting the guests and handing them their programs as they entered the auditorium.  It was not a task she enjoyed, because it forced her to get to know the men and women who would soon be witnessing her chastisement.  More to the point, it gave them a chance to know her.

Ethan Buckley, anxious to get a good seat, arrived early.  Although it made her nauseous to do so, Belinda dutifully smiled and launched into her carefully rehearsed spiel as he entered the theater.  “Good evening, Etha…uh…Mr. Buckley, sir,” she said, aware that her disrespectful familiarity might cost her.  “Thank you for coming to see my punishment.  Would you like a program?”  

“Yes, I would.  I can’t tell you how much I’ve been looking forward to this, Belinda. Is that pert little bottom of yours ready for the strap?”

“Yes, sir,” Belinda said, examining her shoes.  

“Good, because I’m looking forward to watching it dance.  I imagine a good fanny tanning will take some of the ginger out of you, won’t it, young lady?” he taunted.

“Yes, sir,” Belinda said. “I hope so, sir.”

“I hope so, too.  Now take me to my seat, you naughty minx.”

Belinda hated Ethan Buckley with every fiber of her being, and she wanted to beat him to death with her fists.  Instead, she flushed red as she led him to his front row seat and tried to steel herself to the reality that in a few minutes he’d be watching as the principal strapped her naked fanny.  

As Belinda walked past him to get the next guest, Ethan“accidentally” groped her bare thigh with his piggy hand.  Belinda apologized for her clumsiness and moved on.

Belinda had been instructed to greet each visitor with a smile, but she soon realized that the visitors enjoyed it more if she let her fear and embarrassment show.  As she handed the guests their programs their beady eyes would light up at the words “my” in her “Thank you for coming to see my punishment” speech.   Indeed, as they realized that they were actually speaking with the young woman whose punishment they were about to witness, their eyes would sparkle with delight.  Belinda flushed as they leisurely inspected her uniform, starting at her shoes and moving up to her twitching lower lip and panicked eyes.  

Belinda fidgeted under the guest’s merciless appraisal, but her awkward attempts to find a correct way of standing and her delightfully nervous habit of chewing her lower lip only made her more winsome.  Apparently the only thing more exciting than watching a grown woman punished like a reformatory slut was watching the same woman squirm in helpless anticipation.  

There were several more arrivals before Belinda was greeted by the next set of familiar faces:  Professor Winters accompanied by three of the fraternity hooligan’s she had flunked out of her class the previous semester.  

“Professor Krueger?  Is that really you?” one of her amazed students asked.  

“She’s not your Professor anymore, “ Professor Winters chided. “She’s a reformatory criminal about to be bent over for a sound thrashing.  I’m sure she’d prefer it if you used her first name, now, isn’t that right, Belinda?”

“Yes, sir, very much so sir,” Belinda said, wishing she could disappear.  “Would you gentlemen like a program?”  

“What I’d like is a picture of you in that cute uniform,” Bill replied, brandishing his cell phone camera.  

Professor Winters intercepted him,  “Now Bill, I warned you – no cameras or recording devices are allowed.”

Professor Winters turned to the other two frat rats.  “What about you two?  Do you have cameras?”  

“Oh no, sir!”  “Absolutely not, sir” the other two replied, in voices that reminded Belinda of Eddie Haskell.   Belinda was not convinced, but she knew that her opinion meant nothing.

“It’s a pity she’s not teaching anymore,” Bill said.  “I’d enjoy taking her class again if she wore that school uniform.”  

“Yes, I’m sure you would, but that is why it is quite impossible,” Professor Winters explained pedantically.  “You are all going to graduate this semester, which means that even if Miss Krueger does return to her teaching position you will never again take a class from her again.  This is fortunate, since after tonight it will be impossible for you to view her as anything but a randy slut in need of a good thrashing.”

“You see, Bill,” Professor Winters said, warming to the subject, “when a young woman receives a punishment a bond forms between her and her chastisers.  When you see Belinda now you don’t see a teacher but rather a naughty schoolgirl blushing at the thought of the discipline she is about to receive.  Tonight, you will watch her wiggle her fanny, and cry, and promise oh-so-sweetly to be a good little girl.  You will see her stripped naked, physically, yes, but more importantly, emotionally.  After tonight, she will have nothing to hide.”

“Well, I suppose it would be hard for us to take her seriously, after seeing her wiggle her bare butt, and all,” Bill admitted.

“It would be impossible,” Professor Winters agreed.  “Putting her in front of a classroom with students who had seen her thrashed would be preposterous, like a crown on a monkey.  Isn’t that right, Belinda?”

“Yes, sir,” Belinda said, once again unable to make eye contact.  “If you say so, sir.”

“I certainly do say so,” Professor Winters said.  “Now hurry up and take us to our seats, like a good girl, spit spat!  You certainly don’t want to keep the other guests waiting.”

Professor Winter’s punctuated his command with a well placed SWAT! across the seat of Belinda’s skirt, which literally propelled Belinda down the aisle.   Belinda’s former student’s chuckled, and it was all Belinda could do to keep from crying as she led the men to their front row seats.

It was so unfair!  Professor Winters, the old goat who had almost been forced to resign because Belinda didn’t approve of the way he looked at her, had swatted her fanny with impunity.  Indeed, if Belinda resisted, or even protested, she might find herself over his knee, or even worse, wiggling under the birch!

Belinda struggled unsuccessfully to ignore her twenty-something student’s comments about her “cute ass” and “bouncy buns” as she led them to their seats.  “I asked the principal if the boys could strap you down over the horse, Belinda” Professor Winters said, in a tone that suggested that he was discussing the honor guard at a country club picnic.  “I thought it would be fun for them, and interesting for you as well.”

Belinda thought it was horrifying, not “interesting” but judging from the bulges in the pants of her students she knew they were anxious to “help.”  “Yes, sir, if you say so sir,” Belinda said through clenched teeth, glaring back at him with undisguised hatred.

Professor Winters laughed.  “That’s the old fire.  I thought I could goad it out of you.  No man wants to spank a rag doll.  It’s more fun if I know you’re feeling the full indignity of what’s happening.”  

Belinda stormed back to the front of the auditorium with Professor Winter’s laughter burning in her ears.   

Belinda’s anger at Winters vanished as she saw the new horror that awaited her.  There, at the front of the auditorium, stood her stepmother Brittany and her former maid, Agnes.

Brittany had been chatting with Agnes as they awaited their usherette’s return, but she broke into a broad, evil grin as she spotted Belinda in her school uniform.  Belinda froze.

Brittany was wearing one of Belinda’s professional suits, her favorite suit, in fact.  It was blue worsted wool, neatly tailored and expensive, and Brittany looked fabulous in it.

Belinda’s tiny fists clenched in rage!  How dare she steal her clothes!

“How wonderful to see you, dear,” Brittany purred.  “I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of borrowing your things.  After all, you won’t be needed them, now that you’ll be in your darling school uniform… indefinitely.”

Belinda’s eyes flashed but she dared not speak.  “My, don’t you look just DARLING!” Brittany cooed, delighted at her stepdaughter’s reduction in status.  Now be a good girl, and twirl for me, so I get the full effect.”

 Belinda wanted to twirl Brittany’s neck, but as she spotted Miss Rawlings out of the corner of her eye, and remembered the waiting birch bucket, she obediently followed Brittany’s command.

Brittany laughed as Belinda turned slowly in a circle, again and again.  “That’s it, model it for me.  Sell it!  It’s delightful to see you back in school, especially since it frees up your big-girl-clothes and your money for me,” Brittany said, laughing.

Belinda stopped twirling, clenched her teeth, and began her routine.  “Good evening, Mrs. Krueger.  Good evening, Agnes.  Thank you for coming to see my punishment.  Would you both like a program?”

“We’d love one” Brittany gushed.  “Any souvenir of this night will be a cherished keepsake forever.”

At this witticism even the stoic Agnes laughed, and Belinda burned silently in their amusement.  

If it weren’t for her father, lying in his hospital bed, Belinda would have stuffed the programs into their grinning, gaping pie holes.  Instead, Belinda handed each of them their programs, then led to the two purring Cheshire cats to their seats.  “Know that I’m here for you, dear,” Brittany said, feigning maternal concern.  “Right in the front row, counting each and every stroke!”

As she stormed by, Ethan once again grabbed her thigh, and this time Belinda almost let him have it.  Only her fear of the birch switches stopped her, and Belinda dutifully apologized before returning to the front of the theater to escort the next guest.

The last few minutes were quite busy, and Belinda practically had to sprint back and forth to seat the late arrivals.  Belinda thought it was strangely fortunate, since it gave the guests less opportunity to tease, and kept her distracted from the ticking clock on the wall.

Detective Duncan was one of the last arrivals, and Belinda felt a twinge of apprehension as she wondered whether or not Sabrina had made the proper preparations to ensnare her hated stepmother in the trap.  However, Detective Duncan didn’t seem hurried or upset, and Belinda gleaned some comfort in the easy confidence of her manner.

“Good evening, Miss Duncan.  Thank you for coming to see my punishment.  Would you like a program, ma’am?”

Detective Duncan looked at her strangely, as if it were some sort of trick, and it took Belinda a moment to realize the problem.  “She doesn’t recognize me!” Belinda realized.  “She can see it’s me…but it’s not.”

Detective Duncan was astute and observant, but the nervous schoolgirl handing out programs was entirely different from the cool professional woman who had plotted strategy in the principal’s office.  Belinda watched the light clicked on behind Detective Duncan’s cool, discerning eyes.

“Oh, yes, Belinda, thank you.  That would be fine,” Sabrina said, recovering.  Detective Duncan was no longer surprised, and although she said nothing, Belinda was startled when the police detective looked her up and down just like all the rest. Was it Belinda’s imagination, or was Detective Duncan fighting to conceal a smile?

“Right this way, ma’am”, Belinda said, leading the Detective to her unobtrusive, rear aisle seat.  As Belinda scurried to seat the next guest Sabrina was greeted by none other than the principal.

“It’s good to see you, Miss Duncan,” the principal said.  “I’m glad you could make it.”

“I assume everything is in order?” the principal asked.  

Sabrina nodded.  “Good.  I’d expect nothing less from you.  We hold young women to a very high standard here.”

“I’m not a student here,” Sabrina noted wryly.

“No, you’re not,” the principal said ruefully.  “If you were, you’d be in a proper uniform, instead of that absurd pant suit.  You have a lovely figure, Miss Duncan, and it’s a pity you choose to hide it by dressing like a man.”  

“I dress for comfort,” Sabrina said.  “And I really don’t think my attire is your concern.”

“You have quite an attitude, don’t you?” the principal said, his voice tightening.  “You’re right, of course.   It’s not my concern…at least not at this point.  I’m an excellent judge of character, Miss Duncan, particularly female character.  Am I right in supposing that your interest in Miss Krueger’s punishment is…how shall I put this… more than professional?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Sabrina said, her voice betraying a nervousness that alarmed her.

The principal was not nervous at all.  “I was speaking with the Chief of Detectives yesterday, and I mentioned that we might arrange an undercover assignment for you.  I don’t believe there are any drugs in this school, but one can never be too careful.  Don’t you agree?”

“Yes, sir,” Sabrina agreed nervously.

“Quite.  I know you prefer a behind the scenes role, and have traditionally ensconced yourself in supervisory roles to avoid undercover work.  However I’d like to suggest that perhaps it is time to get you out of those turtleneck sweaters and into more appropriate attire.”

“You want me to go undercover as a teacher?” Sabrina asked, as if unable to contemplate the magnitude of what was being suggested.

“Don’t be foolish, child!” the Professor shot back.  “You’d be a student.  Your Chief thought it was a splendid idea, and got quite a chuckle out of it, particularly when I told him about the uniform.  It would show off those lovely legs of yours, would it not?  Enjoy the session, Detective.  We’ll talk again…soon.”
 
At the front of the room, Belinda was already undressing, under the watchful eye of Miss Rawlings.  Belinda started with her shoes and socks, which she realized was a mistake, because the floor of the auditorium was icy cold.  She quickly removed her blue blazer, before untying her school tie and unbuttoning her blouse.

Belinda was painfully aware of the fact that everyone was watching.  She had assumed that she would change in private, and she had been more than a little surprised when Miss Rawlings had led her to the spanking bench and curtly ordered her to “strip to your T-shirt.”  

Belinda had wanted to object, and had actually started to formulate her argument, but the cruel smile on Miss Rawling’s face reminded her of the birch rods which were soaking in the bucket of brine only a few feet away.   That, and the brown razor strap which was hanging by a hook in the wall in front of the spanking bench, convinced her that now was not a moment for objections.

Belinda undressed, ignoring the stares and mummers of admiration about her figure as she performed her slow, humiliating strip tease to order.  It was intensely embarrassing to undress in front of a room of fully clothed adults, but worse yet, it was also quite exciting.  Belinda’s exhibitionist fantasies had long been submerged beneath her “good girl” persona, but at this moment there was literally nothing left to hide.   Belinda felt a familiar tingle between her legs followed by a most unladylike wetness, and she found herself undressing more quickly so as to hide her arousal.

Belinda stood before the crowd, her head bowed.  She was now dressed in nothing but a short half shirt that left her tummy bare and her white regulation school panties.  She kept her hands folded in front of her underpants, partially out of modesty, and partially in an attempt to disguise her shameful wetness.

The principal suggested that the audience take a moment to review Belinda’s biography and dissertation.  Belinda listened to the crinkle of paper and stared down at her bare toes, which were scrunched up from the cold of the auditorium floor.  Even with her head down Belinda could hear their chuckles and sly comments.  The witnesses seemed to take particular delight in the ironic justice of a teacher who had once opposed corporal punishment being forced to bend for a humiliating, bare bottom strapping.  

“Serves her right.”

“She won’t be so snippy after they oil her bottom.”

“Yes, our insolent Missy will be singing a different tune when they snap the strap across her saucy behind!”

“Little busy-body.  I hope she gets it good.”

Belinda chewed her lip, helpless to respond, helpless to do anything but listen as the crowd reveled in her predicament.  She didn’t hear her stepmother, or her students, but she knew they were there, watching, and enjoying every moment of her humiliating tumble from Professor to delinquent.

The book review ended as it began, with the sound of the principal’s stern voice.  “Let us begin, Miss Rawlings,” he said simply.

Miss Rawlings immediately turned to Belinda.  “Panties off!” Miss Rawlings barked.

Belinda hesitated, but only for a moment.  She desperately wanted to keep her underpants on, but she knew she had no choice.

Belinda bit her lip as she nervously lowered her panties, turning slightly so the audience wouldn’t see her drying the wetness between her legs as she removed the garment.  

As she turned to surrender her underpants her bare bottom came into view for the first time, and Belinda was forced to endure the childish titters of the audience.  Bill wolf whistled, which triggered still more laughter, and even some applause.

Belinda turned back, demurely covering herself as she faced the audience, but to her surprise her three former students immediately seized her wrists.  Belinda offered no resistance as they led her to the spanking bench and ordered her over.

The bench was cooler than she had remembered it, but she was wearing fewer clothes, and was much more exposed.  Her former students made quick work of her arms and legs, and her wrists and ankles were soon strapped tightly to the bench.

“You may leave the ankle straps off, men,” the principal instructed.  “Miss Krueger is a proper lady, a woman of breeding and decorum.  I’m sure that she behave properly during her strapping, and show all these fine people something no lady would display.”

The irony of the principal’s remarks became clear as the boys stepped away and the audience was treated to site of Belinda’s pert and very sexy bottom sticking high in the air.  It was a position no “lady” would ever be in, and indeed, Belinda knew that if during her punishment she raised her hips even slightly she would be exposed in a way that she shuddered to contemplate.

Belinda was surprised as she heard Brittany’s piercing, sing-songy voice.  The bench was slightly inverted, so Belinda couldn’t see her, but what she heard galled her to the core.

“Belinda is my stepdaughter, and it grieves me to see the poor dear in such a frightful position.  I know that none of us want to see her punished, and we can only hope that she learns the lesson she needs to learn, and is as grateful to the principal for the punishment she is about to receive as I am.”

Belinda fumed as the audience applauded Brittany’s piety.  Someday soon…

Soon indeed.  Belinda’s anger turned to panic, as she felt the principal tap-tap-tap the razor strap against her scandalously raised fanny cheeks.  “Ready, Belinda?” he asked, not waiting for an  answer.  “Let us begin.”  

The principal stepped back and raised the strap high in the air…

Belinda gritted her teeth, clenched her bottom, and closed her eyes as she waited for the stroke to land...

[Read Part 7 Here]