Subject: EMMA AT SCHOOL Episode 12 - A Letter
From Home
From: an674112@anon.penet.fi
(Rosewood)
Date: 1996/07/25
A few days before the half term break, Emma received a letter from her sister, Kaitlin. Emma had written to her younger sibling several times since she started at Katherine Parr, often relating in tearful prose a very recent spanking, or presaging an imminent one. So far, Kaitlin had failed to write back and, although Emma could partly excuse her owing to her sister being a year younger than herself, she was pleased to finally receive a reply. She lay down on her couch and ripped the envelope open, impatiently snatching at the contents and tearing one sheet in the process. It was long, she noticed - ten, twelve pages of Kaitlin's slightly immature handwriting written in bright turquoise ink. Emma smiled as she recognised the evidence of her last birthday present to Kaitlin. The letter was short on introduction, and long on content:
"Dear Emma
"I'm really sory I haven't writin suner [note: I'll correct the spelling as I go along - Rosewood] but it's been a busy few weeks! The main news is that Daddy says I'm to start at Katherine Parr at the start of next term in September! It will be nice to be with you, but I must say I'm scared about getting smacked all the time. And by people I don't even know!
"Anyway, that's the other thing that's different around here now. Daddy started spanking me a few days after you went. First he said it was for proper discipline, then later he said it was so I would be prepared when I got to my new school. He said your housemaster has been telling him how well behaved you are now and how your work is much, much better as well and he thinks it's because you're punished for everything you do wrong. Daddy even uses a.... [the next few words had been heavily crossed out and were illegible] But I'll start at the beginning.
"The first time was the Thursday after you went to school. It wasn't a big deal - I was just home late in the evening on a school night. Not really late - about half nine and I was supposed to be in by half eight. I'd only been to Franny's house, I wasn't really out. Anyway, Mum was at one of her meetings and Daddy gave me this long lecture about why it was important to follow rules and then he asked did I know what happened to girls at your new school if they broke the rules. I'd got a letter from you that morning telling me about seeing your roommate get caned so I said yes they were spanked, or caned or whatever. Well young lady, he said in his serious voice, from now on that is what is going to happen to you! He told me to have a shower and get ready for bed and to wait in his bedroom.
"So I had a shower and put on my PJs. I remember shaking and wondering whether he'd spank my bare bottom and how much it would hurt. Anyway, he came into his bedroom and told me to stand in front of him while he sat on the bed. Then he took my PJs off. I mean top AND bottom so I was completely naked. I felt really embarrassed standing in front of him with my tits and my pussy bare but I didn't say anything cos I thought that would make it worse.
"He said spankings for minor offences would happen in his bedroom at bedtime like this - always in the nude - and that he'd show me later what would happen if I was really naughty. Then he made me bend over his knee and he pulled me about a bit so I was lying just how he wanted me and then he started. I know the cane must be a hundred times worse, but I tell you Emma it was SO painful. He smacked me again and again and again, going on all the time about how there were going to be some changes around here and how his daughters were going to learn to behave like ladies or else and about working hard at school and everything. And all the time he kept on spanking my bare bottom as if he was using all his strength. I wasn't just crying, I was screaming for him to stop, promising to be good and do what I was told and work hard at school - anything to stop him. But he just carried on until he decided I'd had enough. Or maybe his arm just got tired.
"Anyway, I could hardly move and Daddy had to pick me up and carry me to my room and put me to bed and I was just crying all the time and saying sorry over and over again and promising to be good and Daddy was stroking my hair and kissing me and saying it would be alright but that every time I disappointed him, I'd pay for it with a bare-bottomed spanking!
"That carried on for the first week or so. I really did try to keep out of trouble and managed to avoid the pain and humiliation of being stripped and spanked on most days, although I guess there were about four more over the next fortnight. What I didn't particularly try to change was my schoolwork. After all, if the teacher sends a letter home it just goes in the bin, right? Well, wrong in this case. Or, rather, they (there was a whole series about some stupid history project) did go in the bin, but Ms Blanchard, the new history teacher, actually called dad in! She went on and on about how I didn't put any effort into my work, etc. etc. You know the stuff. And how my holiday homework was two weeks overdue. Well, Daddy didn't even know I had holiday homework - normally you can get away with it - and he was furious. I couldn't believe it. He actually asked Ms Blanchard what she thought about corporal punishment!
"The stupid old cow said she was in favour of it - how students were never late with their work in the old days when she was allowed to use the strap on them. Daddy asked her what her method had been and she said that she taught in a private girls' school where the girls were strapped on the bare bottom! It was like a red rag to a bull. Daddy asked her if she still kept her strap and she said she did and got it out. A fucking huge leather thing, split at one end. It was from Scotland and it's called a tawse or something. Anyway, Daddy asked if the classroom door locked and, when Ms Blanchard said it did, he whispered something in her ear. I saw her eyes glance over towards me and noticed the edges of her mouth turning up into a conspiratorial smile. Then she walked over to the classroom door and slipped a key in the lock, turning it briskly, before spinning round and saying to me: Your daddy has asked me to show him how I reminded girls to do their homework in the old days! I looked round at him and begged him no, but he simply sat down at a desk and waited.
"If I have to repeat any of my instructions, I shall increase your punishment by three strokes each time. At the moment, you are to receive ten. Stand in front of my desk and bend down over it! I knew it was useless - there was no way out. I walked up to the desk and I remember crying so much my tears were falling to the floor in tiny splashes. Then I leant down over it and held on tight to the far end while Ms Blanchard walked around to stand behind me. She lifted my skirt up first, right up onto my back. Then she went for my panties. Of course, I knew it was going to be on the bare bum, but I couldn't help myself - I jumped up and shouted NO! really loudly. Ms Blanchard didn't flinch. She just said: That's thirteen now and I began to cry even harder. But I still turned round and bent over again. I felt her lift my skirt up again and then felt her warm fingers catching the elastic of my knickers and drawing those down close to my knees so that my bare bottom was sticking out at both Ms Blanchard and Daddy.
"I'd like you to bite on this, she told me, walking round and shoving a hanky between my teeth. Then she picked up the strap and disappeared behind me. I closed my eyes and waited for what seemed like ages. Then there was a faint swishing sound that grew in a whirling crescendo and ended in a loud crack. For a moment I didn't realise that I'd been hit - I was so focused on the terrifying noise of the strap's flight through the air. Then, a split second after the impact, the pain came. I can't describe it. Actually, I don't have to do I because I think that's what Amanda used on you isn't it. But I think you said she's only allowed to give nine strokes. Well I got thirteen. No, fourteen because I tried to get up after the third and Ms Blanchard added another. It was simply the worst pain I'd ever experienced, flashing through my whole body after each stroke. I really don't know how I survived. When she'd finished, she pulled out my gag and asked: Am I going to get your project in by Monday then? I just about managed to whisper a 'yes'. Then Daddy told her that if I was badly behaved or produced poor work, she had his express permission - in fact she had his instruction - to keep me behind after school and apply the strap to my bare bottom to which Ms Blanchard responded with a grateful smile.
"If I'd thought that was it, though, I'd have been wrong. When we got home, Daddy took me into the sitting room where Mummy was writing and gave me a long lecture about school and the importance of education. Then he said to Mummy that there was no choice but to send me to Katherine Parr too where they'd see to my discipline properly. He said he didn't want me to change schools so close to the end of the year and that in the meantime he would have to see to it that I was made aware of what was acceptable and what was not. Clearly spanking your bare bottom with my hand is not sufficiently severe chastisement, he said. I wailed that he'd said how much my behaviour was improving, but he just said not enough. He made me turn round, lift up my skirt and pull my panties down so he could see my bottom. Well, he decided, I think you have been properly punished this afternoon for once so I shan't inflict any more on you. However, we will establish our routine now.
"In future, if you are to be punished I shall either tell you to go to my room which will mean a spanking with my hand which you've already experienced, or I shall ask you to prepare for a beating. If I say that, this is what you will do. Firstly you go and shower and leave your clothes upstairs (thank God for central heating!) and then you fetch your mother's large wooden hairbrush and my razor strop and bring them down here. I asked did he mean naked and he said yes. Then he said I had to place the hairbrush and the razor strop on the piano, pull the piano stool out into the middle of the room and then kneel in front of the stool with my knees apart. He said he would then select which implement he was going to use (the hairbrush is supposed to represent the paddle and the strop the tawse I think) and tell me how many strokes I was going to get. Then I'd have to bend over the piano stool, keeping my knees apart, until my hands were flat on the floor on the other side. As I said, he lectured me, I'm not going to punish you again tonight, but I would like you to run through that routine for me. Prepare for a beating please!
"Weeping all the time (I seem to spend loads of my time crying at the moment!) I had my shower and then came back downstairs with the hairbrush and the razor strop which I put on the piano before kneeling in front of the piano stool. Daddy said: And the position please, and I pulled myself up so I was bent right over. My face was bright red because with my knees apart I knew that Mummy and Daddy would be able to see my pussy as well as my bottom, but I didn't have the courage to ask Daddy if I could keep my knees together. Also, you mustn't tell anyone this, but when I ...
Again here a line and a half of writing were carefully scribbled out, but Emma knew instinctively what her sister had written. That when she exposed herself in that way she had felt a damp tingling between her legs which had shamed her far more than the simple fact of her pussy pouting nakedly from the inverted "V" of her parted thighs. That she had felt a sudden desperate urge to slip her hand beneath her proffered form to find the magic place which cried out for her touch. That all sorts of dark, forbidden images had poured into her head making her fearful of closing her eyes lest in the darkness she should conjure up not her own, but her father's gentle fingers easing her apart and slipping gently in.
The familiar, taboo fantasies began to take hold of Emma now as her vision blurred and she stopped reading, a dark force pulling her hand down beneath her skirt and then up between her open thighs. As she stroked herself slowly, she recalled the many times she had lain awake in bed wondering how her father would choose to discipline her once she was at home again. She imagined him slipping her clothing from her as she stood before him in her parents' bedroom, pulling her bra forwards to release her well-developed breasts and sliding her panties down to the floor to bare her sex. She replayed the multitude of positions she had visualised; over his knee, of course, but also bending down to touch her toes, pushed down over the dresser or the bed, prepared for the hairbrush in front of an open fire, on leaning against the wall or the dining table - in each scenario her bottom turned up naked ready to be punished and her thighs spread wide to leave her young and lustful pussy brazenly exhibited. She pictured herself lying on her back on the big double bed as her father lifted her feet and pushed them back, way back until her ankles almost touched her ears and she was displayed in the most exotic way. She watched him in her mind's eye as he raised his hand to strike and then, instead, dipped his head slowly towards her wetness.
"God, no... no... NO... Ooooh!!" Emma screeched, jumping up and blinking in the cold fluorescent light. As she had been lying there, her fingers had made their way carefully into her panties and then inside her warmth and now, as she sat on the side of the couch her face burned with the realisation of what she had done - she had actually come while fantasising about her father going down on her. Her breath was coming in short, irregular spasms and she looked around the room as if searching for a way to absolve herself. After a few seconds, she got up and walked quickly across the study, opening the door and marching along the familiar corridors until she reached Richard's study.
She knocked, but didn't wait for the call. She just walked straight in. Richard was sitting in his usual chair, chatting in a relaxed manner to another boy she didn't recognise. She allowed herself the freedom briefly to wonder whether he was lover or friend, gay or straight. But she didn't need to know in order to make her request.
"Richard... I... I've done something really bad... something I feel really terrible about... I can't tell you what it is... I just can't... but will you..." she looked briefly towards the other occupant of the room. "Will you punish me... you know, spank me... hard?"
"Very hard?" he asked.
That was one of the things she loved about him. Most people would have started to ask all sorts of questions - Richard just got down to the point. She nodded.
"Very well. Ask Tommy to prepare you, please."
Emma turned to the other boy who, from this command, she guessed was straight (possibly one of those boys whom Richard seemed always to be hopelessly chasing) and said in a steady voice, "Would you take off my skirt and panties please?"
"No!" This was Richard again. "Everything, please. If it's serious?"
Emma nodded again and repeated, "Everything."
Emma decided that while Tommy looked excited and nervous enough about the prospect of stripping her for him not to be a Katherine Parr pupil (and anyway, there were so few boys that she knew most of them by name), he looked sufficiently unshocked for her to be certain that Richard had told him something of the school's disciplinary codes. And he was nice looking enough. Emma wondered briefly if Richard would still have given him this task had he not been.
He had nice hands, she thought as they began to unbutton her crisp white blouse, his fingers nimble and quick. Emma watched his eyes as he moved the cotton away from her bra. They were deep blue and filled with concentration and she lost herself in them for a moment until the accidental brushing of the back of his hand against her bare nipple announced to her that her bra too had been removed and that she now stood naked from the waist up.
"Sorry," the boy said, and he bent down, without any great urgency or furtiveness to kiss the teat he had grazed. Emma wondered if this was some sort of test, finding out what liberties he could take with her. She didn't know whether Richard had seen and wondered if she ought really to protest, yet her pussy was still wet from before and she found her mouth reluctant to open.
"Sit down," the boy said. There was a new authority in his voice and Emma obeyed him as she would Richard, Deborah or Amanda, smiling as he knelt before her and first slipped off her shoes and socks and then kissed her feet tenderly.
Tommy told her to stand again and she closed her eyes as she did so to find that her father's face reappeared at once, poised as before above her quivering sex. This time, feeling the strength lent by the coming act of contrition, she kept her eyes closed and, as Tommy's fingers slipped lightly up the backs of her legs, she allowed her imagination to continue until her father's warm tongue found the sensitive folds of her sex.
Tommy's hands had not stopped at her skirt but had continued their upward journey and were now running gingerly over her buttocks. Finding no impedance they moved round to the front of Emma's panties and began a fingertip exploration of her mound, skimming the cotton coated sponginess of her pubic hair and then moving inward further and gently stroking her clitoris. Still Emma allowed herself to pretend that it was her father's tongue moving sensuously along her slit and she groaned loudly as Tommy once more bent his mouth to her breasts, this time sucking and licking at them more fervently.
Emma only opened her eyes when, after a short while, Tommy reluctantly left the warm moistness between the girl's thighs and unfastened her skirt, dropping it briskly to the floor. Looking her in the eyes this time, he passed his hand between her legs once again, this time his fingers edging beneath the thin cotton covering to move along her slippery crevice while Emma gasped at the sensation. Having been thus touched so intimately by the stranger, Emma then stood still while the boy completed his task and carefully pulled her panties down.
Tommy had no intention of stopping his play there though. Emma knew Richard was standing somewhere behind her as the boy who had just stripped her now slipped his left hand between her legs and lifted her right knee quickly up and sideways, pulling her closer as he did so. She Richard's view as, having so effectively opened her up, Tommy ran his free hand over her tits, down over her tummy and between her legs, entering her easily with two fingers. She wondered how he would react to the sight of her pussy being filled up with his friend's digits as she rocked and moaned gently under his insistent touch. Then, very suddenly, she felt her climax nearing and once more the ghost of her father haunted her, fingering her pussy tenderly as she lay bent over his knee and swiftly taking her to the peak of pleasure.
At the girl's coming, Tommy slowly withdrew his hand and lowered her lofted leg to the floor.
"Now, you had better go to Richard and accept your spanking," he told her.
"Yes," she thought, having mentally seduced her own father. "I've taken my pleasure, but not without just consequence. Surely God can't hold that against me."
And when she turned, Richard was waiting for her, sitting on his favourite chair and patting his lap.