The Adventures of Fiona McCormack
A Story by Jenny O’Brien
Hannah was considerably braver than her friend Rebecca, having been spanked before and realising that tears would not lessen the punishment. This time however, she approached the desk with some trepidation. She had just witnessed the severity of Rebecca’s punishment and knew that it had only been the first half! Rebecca may not have been the bravest possible victim, but there was no doubt that her howls of anguish had been for real. This was going to be painful and she just had to get through it the best she could. Trying not to make eye contact with the Mother Superior and avoiding any glances at the yardstick that was lying on the desk she immediately leant over, letting the waiting Sister Teresa grab her wrists. Hannah’s only real wish was to get through the coming ordeal without incurring any extra strokes.
The watching three schoolgirls, once again witnessed the preparation. In reality, only two of them actually saw the gymslip being pinned up and the navy blue knickers being pulled up tight and smoothed out, as Rebecca, with her eyes still full of tears, couldn’t really focus on anything. Fiona could clearly see that Hannah’s bottom was considerably less well upholstered than Rebecca’s, as were her thighs. Fiona could clearly see a muscle at the top of Hannah’s right leg twitching, almost in anticipation of what was to come. Seemingly satisfied with the preparations, the Mother Superior picked up the ruler and, resting on the target, calculated her position. Fiona watched, almost in fascination, as the muscle stopped twitching nervously and tensed up.
The ruler lifted slowly, out to its full extent, before returning with a high-pitched whistle and cutting in to the middle of Hannah’s bottom. The crack as it found its target, was greeted not with the pained howl that it elicited from Rebecca, but with more of a yelp through gritted teeth. “One” said Hannah, with as much dignity as she could muster in the circumstances. The Reverend Mother then lined up the next stroke, higher up the bottom. It was already clear to the watching Fiona that the Mother Superior was working to a set pattern. The first across the middle of the knickers, the second higher up, the third lower down. The forth stroke was to be across the part of the buttocks, uncovered by any protection, the fifth on the thighs and the sixth in between the forth and fifth, on the crease of the bottom. Fiona frantically tried to memorise the order, in the belief that knowing what was to come, would in some way mitigate the experience.
The second stroke, when it came, again brought only an agonised yelp from Hannah, as it cracked downwards against the upper part of her bottom cheeks, virtually pinning her slight frame to the edge of the desk. Sister Teresa could see the girl’s knuckles turn white, as she gripped even harder to the desk, her pretty face screwed up in pain as she muttered “two” through still gritted teeth. Her whole body was now rigid with tension, as she attempted to undergo the ordeal, without embarrassing herself in front of her friends. The burning across her backside was already almost intolerable, after only two strokes, but she was determined to hold out for as long as she could, before breaking down. Hannah suddenly became aware of her right leg shaking uncontrollably in an involuntary spasm. She concentrated hard on stopping it, even as she felt the ruler tapping lower down, against her knickers, as the Mother Superior prepared for her next stroke.
As the third stroke scythed in, Hannah felt as though she had been cut in two. The shockwaves as the heavy hardwood, impacted on the soft, receptive flesh under her thin regulation knickers, seemed to go right through her entire body. She looked up pleadingly towards Sister Teresa, who was maintaining a vice like grip around her wrists, in the hope of some comfort, but got nothing more than a concerned look in return. “Three”, she almost whispered, as soon as she had regained her wits about her. The Mother Superior was impressed by Hannah’s stoicism, but was determined that each of the girls should repent fully for their wicked act. True repentance, she knew, was not possible as long as the girls pride was still intact. It was pride that was driving Hannah to resist breaking down, so force her to break down was exactly what she must do. The Mother Superior, as she lined up the forth stroke, just below Hannah’s tightly stretched knickers, resolved to make this the stroke that would finally drive the pride and arrogance from the reluctant schoolgirl.
This time, rather than just swing the yardstick from where she was standing, the Mother Superior took a couple of small steps back, before skipping in and delivering the stroke, still with remarkable accuracy, across the unprotected underside of Hannah’s bottom. The sound of yardstick, as it met Hannah’s bare flesh for the first time, brought winces from the three watching girls and an immediate response from the unfortunate Hannah. It was as if the fight deserted her in a moment, as her hands released their grip on the far side of the desk and for the first time, the crying started and the tears started to flow. Realising what had just happened, it was clear that the last stroke had been a direct response to Hannah’s bravery, Fiona resolved that when it was her turn, she would do nothing to provoke the Mother Superior into similar actions. If she wanted tears, then as far as Fiona was concerned, she could have them!
The Mother Superior stood back, as if to admire the angry red stripe that had appeared across Hannah’s bottom and waited for a few moments. She could hear nothing but the uncontrollable sobbing from the girl who was lying across her desk. “As you have failed to count the stroke”, she said flatly, “you shall receive the forth stroke again”. Now she was satisfied. She now knew that she had won the battle of wills and from now on, Hannah’s chastisement would have the desired effect. Swinging the ruler, this time from a standing position, she delivered the stroke directly on top of the previous one, to the obvious discomfort of the defenceless Hannah. “Four”, howled the girl, no longer concerned so much with what her friends might think of her, so much as the burning pain that now became the focus of her entire world.
As the fifth stroke hit home, leaving a purple mark across the eleven year old’s slim girlish thighs, it produced, not so much a scream, as just a change in the pitch of the now constant crying. Hannah kicked her feet on the ground, in an unsuccessful attempt to reduce the sting, before remembering to cry “five”, to the satisfaction of the Reverend Mother. The stroke across the far less padded legs, introduced a whole different sort of pain to the unfortunate Hannah, somehow more intense and sharper than those across her bottom.
Hannah bit her lip and braced herself for the last stroke of this part of her punishment. Once again, she felt the flat wood of the ruler tapping against her bare skin, this time at the top of her legs, where they met her sore bottom. She felt a slight movement of air, as the ruler was pulled back, followed by the screaming sound, as it returned, only to be drowned out by her own screams. “Six!” she shouted, partly in agony, partly in relief that, this part at least was over. Her watching co-conspirators, saw a third bright red stripe appear, midway between the previous two and perfectly parallel to both. The space between the stripes, appeared to be almost exactly the width of the ruler, a point not lost on Fiona, Pippa or the now calmer Rebecca. None of the girls were in any doubt that the Reverend Mother was planning to fill in the gaps before the morning was over.
As the Mother Superior started to fill in Her entry in the punishment book, Hannah, remembering to put her hands back on her head, made her way unsteadily back to her position on the bench. As she turned to face them, the other three could see the pain etched across her tear stained face. There could be no doubt that she was already a very contrite and sorry little girl and she still had another six strokes to go!
“Pippa Harris”, said the Mother Superior, as if in a hurry to continue, “you’re next! Please prepare yourself”.