“By
rights miss, I should let the District Commissioner deal with this,” she said,
maintaining eye contact with her employee in a way that Bee found difficult to
return. “But as you’ve agreed to take
your medicine then we can keep it between ourselves. Is that correct?”
“Yes
Mrs Jones,” Bee said quietly.
“Ladies?”
asked Mrs J, sweeping the other three with a searchlight stare. They all chimed in with a mumbled “yes Mrs Jones”.
“A good
dose of strap oil it is then,” said Mrs J, taking a tightly-coiled strap from
her cardigan pocket. With a flick of her wrist the strap uncoiled like a snake
and Bee watched with alarm noticing how heavy and supple it looked.
“Now
then,” she said, stepping up to Beryl and taking her by the arm. Bee felt the firmness of the grip and
yielded, allowing herself to be propelled to the foot of her bed.
The
metal frame formed a half-circle and Bee was positioned at its centre. Then Mrs
J’s hand was moved from her arm to the back of her head and she was pushed face
down into the quilt.
Bee
felt acutely aware of the shape and size of her bum. “Pants down to your knees,
please.”
“Really,
I don’t think that’s fair...” Bee began.
“Two
extras,” said Mrs J in a businesslike way.
Reluctantly
Bee tugged her tight knickers down, and over, her out-thrust buttocks. She had
to wriggle a little to help them along, which made her bumcheeks quiver in a
eye-catching way.
It
certainly caught the eye of each of the watching girls, Bunty, Anne and Gladys.
Four girls – all new to one another - sharing a room had to be
prepared to undress in one another’s presence.
How
they dealt with the intimacy differed. Bunty’s background was much like Bee’s
and she was used to unselfconscious nudity from years in dormitories.
At
Annie’s terraced home in Yorkshire five sisters shared a room, so little room
for shyness there. However, for Gladys, a bank manager’s daughter, sharing a
room was something of an ordeal; at her comfortable detached home in
Hertfordshire she bolted her bedroom door before changing clothes.
Over
the week each had got more comfortable with the enforced closeness of
arrangements at Bryn Farm. When they dress and undressed they did it hurriedly
to avoid baring too much flesh to either cold air or curious glances.
So,
each of the three was shocked and fascinated by Bee’s nakedness. With her head
down and legs straight her round bumcheeks were opened wide, exposing what she called her bits and bobs to view.
Gladys
felt she should look away, but couldn’t. How different Bee’s fanny looked, she thought. Gladys was a little embarrassed at the way that her own
“down there” hair was thick and dark, and was intrigued by how Bee’s fine,
light ginger curls did little to hide her new friend’s most intimate parts.
All three
witnesses held their breath as Mrs J planted her feet wide apart and rolled up
the right sleeve of her blouse. “Let this be an example to you all,” she said,
swinging the strap through the air so that it whispered like the wings of a bird.
“Beryl,
hold onto the sides and don’t let go,” Mrs J told her. “Stay in position.” With
the next swing Bee clenched her cheeks up tight hiding her bumhole for a
moment.
As she
did, Mrs J measured her distance just right and the heavy leather caught Bee’s
tensed buttocks low and hard. The girls saw Bee’s bum flatten momentarily
before the strap swang back, fast and low. Bee had just enough time to squawk
out her shock at the flash of bright pain before Mrs J followed through with
stroke number two.
Another
three strokes followed up at lightning speed and Bee’s screeches of anguish
rang into one another.
The
unwritten Bullington code stipulated that a girl took her swishing well, which
meant keeping noise to a minimum, staying in position and never, ever begging for
mercy. Bee was rather ashamed of how far below the standard she was falling.
That
she was making so much of a racket was a shocker, but Mrs J was turning out to
be a very proficient disciplinarian. Worse was the struggle she was having
maintaining position.
For a
start the bed frame was a little too high for her and the cold iron cut into
her waist. And she could only just get handholds on the sides to keep in place.
Through
watering eyes she could see her left hand locked into place, knuckles white.
She had had eleven strokes when her grip was broken and – with a howl - she
sprang upright, palms pressing to her tormented cheeks.
She
took two handfuls of burning buttock and kneaded away at them like a baker.
“Don’t
be a baby, Beryl,” said Mrs J after allowing Bee a moment’s dancing on the
spot. “Bear up, there’s a war on. Back into position or I’ll have to double
your ration.”
With
some difficulty Bee did as she was told. There was, she accepted, a war on and
meant having her backside leathered.
Back in
place, Bee’s bottom sustained a barrage of strokes at a steady pace. She clung
on and howled her way through to the last, which came in rather low across her
thighs.
Somewhere
between the second dozen and the third Bunty decided she couldn’t watch and
covered her eyes. Gladys, on the other
hand, couldn’t tear her gaze away from.
“There,
three dozen give and received,” said Mrs J, popping the strap back into her
apron pocket. “Let that be a lesson.”
She
moved closer to Bee and patted her on the shoulder before sitting on the side
of her bed. As Mrs J’s weight settled onto the mattress the bed springs
squeaked and Bee lifted her head, her mass of curls a curtain around her face.
Gently
Mrs J parted the curls so that Bee could see her. “Can we be friends again?”
Bee was
a little puzzled by the remark. Mrs J smiled at her in a way that was almost
shy and said: “Come along stand up then.”
Bee
straightened up with one hand on her smarting, striped bottom and the other
trying to tidy her hair. Watching her, Mrs J sat very upright and with her
knees pressed together.
She
smiled again, patted her lap and nodded. Bee understood and went to her
employer and, a little awkwardly, sat on her knee.
She
allowed herself to be pulled into the older woman’s arms. For a moment she
stiffened, but then relaxed into the hug, burying her face into the older
woman’s shoulder.
It felt
so good, so comforting. But at the same time she could feel how in that
position she was making an exhibition of herself, with her red-raw bum sticking
out.
I’m
certainly giving the girls something to goggle at, she thought. Her behind felt
all round and hot. It made her feel ashamed of how big her bottom was and that
it deserved to be swished hard and often.
It also
made Aunty start to get wet and tingly, which made Bee worry that Mrs J would
notice her inappropriate reaction to the situation she found herself in. As
that thought was crossing her confused mind she felt Mrs J’s hand drop from her
waist and her cool palm settled gently on one of Bee’s jutting buttocks.
Bee
shivered with the thrill of the contact and she lifted her face out of Mrs J’s
hair. She found herself looking into warm, smiling eyes.
“I
don’t want to have to do this to you again Beryl,” she said. “So you’ll try to
be a good girl, won’t you?”
“Yes,
Mrs Jones. I promise,” she said.
“Good,”
said Mrs J, then she looked to the other three. “All of you, do keep my rules
in mind, that way we’ll get along very nicely. Let me down, and there’s plenty
more of the medicine Beryl’s just taken. Understand?”
“Yes,
Mrs Jones,” they answered nervously.
“Now
then,” said Mrs J, patting Beryl smartly on the bottom. “Beryl get into your
pyjamas and into bed. You’ve all got an early morning tomorrow.”
A while back I was in the habit of posting snippets of writing on Fridays as 'Friday fiction', but it hasn't happened for a while. I thought I'd put things right with this chunk of 'Beryl gets Stuck In' which sits on my computer a third written - it's about the adventures of a Land Army volunteer called Beryl, or Bee for short.
It isn't going anywhere at the moment - it just seemed to run out of road. So, I thought at least a little of it probably deserves an audience.
While I'm here I feel I have to share yesterday's experience with you - I've had a spanking that I didn't want. Yes, our consensual spanking relationship edged a little towards non-consent and it has left me a little confused (and a little bruised too). 
