The Adventures of Fiona McCormack
A Story by Jenny O’Brien
If Fiona had been nervous before Pippa’s punishment, she was now terrified! What if the Reverend Mother punished her like she had Pippa? How could she take it? As she walked, in a daze, towards the desk, she was relieved to see that Sister Teresa had gone back behind the desk and was waiting for her. As she bent over the desk, Sister Teresa gave her a quick, reassuring smile and held her hands out. Rather than grabbing Fiona’s wrists, as she had with Rebecca and Hannah, she held onto her hands, glancing towards the Mother Superior to check that she didn’t object.
Fiona found this surprisingly comforting, especially when, as the Reverend Mother started to pin up the hem of her gymslip, she felt Sister Teresa give her hands a friendly squeeze. Fiona fidgeted a little in an attempt to get more comfortable. The collar and cuffs of her school blouse felt tight and scratchy and when the Reverend Mother pulled her navy blue knickers up tight, she felt as though she was being split in two. She shuffled her feet nervously on the floor. Being taller than the others, with longer legs, it was difficult to find a good position. Eventually, she moved her feet back about six inches, so her tummy was flat on the desk and her legs were straight.
Fiona heard the ruler being picked up from the desk and felt it tap softly on her bottom. She was just about to gather herself, when the first stroke took her by surprise. The sound came first, with almost a delayed reaction before the pain hit her. It took her breath away for a moment, before she heard the sound of a scream, coming it seemed, from deep within her. She had expected it to hurt, but not like this! By the time she had composed herself and was waiting for the next stroke, she heard the Mother Superiors voice. “For failing to count the stroke, you shall receive the first stroke again”. Fiona’s head was spinning. How could she have forgotten? And on the very first one as well! She felt the ruler tapping lightly again, but this time on a spot which had just absorbed a full-blooded stroke. She braced herself, before the ruler crashed home once more, bringing a howl of anguish as it bit in to her sore buttocks. “One!” she shouted, not wanting her call to be missed. Once again, she felt her hand being squeezed and looked up to see Sister Teresa smiling. Weakly, she managed a smile back before the feel of the ruler, lining up the next stroke, took her mind back to the business at hand.
Following the same pattern that she had used before, the Reverend Mother aimed the next stroke higher, nearer the top of Fiona’s knickers. While the strokes on the lower, fatter part of Fiona’s buttocks had felt that they were almost slicing into her; by contrast, the one on the less padded area above was more like a blunt instrument. She cried out as before, but managed to say “Two”, without prompting. The Reverend Mother, mindful that she had an assembly to take at ten o’clock and that she still had a further six strokes to give to each girl, wasn’t wasting much time. Before Fiona had any time to think, the next stroke had already arrived, cracking viscously against the lower part of her bottom and eliciting another scream from her throat. Unlike the first scream, which was as much the product of her surprise as anything else, this was the real thing. With tears now flowing freely down her face, she sobbed “Three”, softly.
As the Reverend Mother lined up her next stroke, against the uncovered underside of Fiona’s bottom, Fiona could feel for the first time, the polished wood of the yardstick against her bare skin. She could feel her legs shaking a little and a sort of dull, empty sensation in the pit of her stomach. Her mouth was dry and she ran her tongue, nervously across her lips. Tasting the salty tears that were streaming down her face. The forth stroke, undampened by the thin covering of her knickers, sounded like an explosion to Fiona, echoing around the office and intermingled with the sound of her own crying. “Four!” she howled, desperately trying to force the burning sensation to the back of her mind.
Suddenly, to Fiona’s surprise, she heard the ruler being put back on the table. “Sister Teresa”, she heard the Mother Superior say, “Would you get a towel from my bathroom quickly please?” As Sister Teresa let go of her hands and rushed off, Fiona wondered what was going on. Then she realised. Her mind had been so concentrated on the pain from her behind; she had failed to feel the warm trickle on the inside of her legs. She was mortified! For a moment she forgot entirely about her throbbing buttocks and could only feel the embarrassing dampness on her thighs. With everybody watching! What would they all think? Fiona wanted the ground to swallow her up. When Sister Teresa returned, Fiona felt her towelling down her legs, before arranging the towel on the floor beneath her. As she came back around the desk and took Fiona’s hands once again, Fiona buried her head into the desk, avoiding any eye contact. Sister Teresa squeezed her hands again, as if to reassure her, but in her shame, Fiona kept her head down and stared at the wooden desktop.
The Mother Superior picked up the ruler and, pointedly not commenting on Fiona’s display, said “The next stroke will be number five!” Fiona no longer cared which stroke it was, she was more concerned that, when the six were completed, she would have to turn around and face her friends! The way she felt at the moment, she wouldn’t have minded if she stayed over the desk forever. Fiona was instantly shaken out of embarrassment and self-pity, by a more immediate problem, as the yardstick lashed against her, as yet untouched thighs. When watching the other girls, Fiona had been surprised that their howls had always gone up in volume, as well as an octave in pitch, as soon as the Reverend Mother had started beating their legs. Now she knew why! As she cried out in pain, stamping her legs in an effort to lessen the awful sting, she heard herself say “Five!” almost involuntarily. Temporarily at least, Fiona had forgotten all about her wetting herself and had her mind, firmly back on the merciless assault on her bottom.
The Reverend mother lined up the ruler between the marks from the previous two strokes and let fly. The ruler landed with a satisfying thwack across the top of Fiona’s striped thighs, landing just below the clearly visible damp patch on her tightly pulled up knickers. Apart from another agonised scream, the stroke also produced another small trickle of pee, running down the inside of her thighs, staining her white knee socks slightly, before running onto the towel, between her feet. As the girl cried wretchedly, pausing only to shout “Six!” The Reverend Mother, put down the ruler and picked up the punishment book. Neatly, she started to write Fiona’s entry.
It was a moment before Fiona realised that, this part at least, was now over. Sister Teresa released her grasp on Fiona’s hands and Fiona hauled herself back to her feet. As she stood up, she became very aware of the wetness in the gusset of her school knickers, pressing uncomfortably against her private areas. It no longer felt warm, but now seemed cold and clammy. She turned to face her friends, trying to avoid their eyes and begun the short, but painful walk back to her place on the bench. More than anything in the world, Fiona wanted to clasp her hands to her hot and stinging bottom, but she knew that she didn’t dare, for fear of the retribution that would surely follow. As she climbed back onto the bench, she was sure that everyone could hear the soft squelching sound that came from her sodden knickers. However red her bottom now was, Fiona’s face could match it!