by Karl Quentin
"I tell you, it's a ghost up there!" insisted Charlotte Davies. "I've been hearing it the last five nights. There's rustling behind the wall by my bed, and there's a voice whispering words that I can't quite catch, and I don't want to catch either!" She shivered. "And I've heard sounds like hooting, when I can't sleep in the middle of the night. It's up there, whatever it is, in the loft or something above our dorm. I tell you I'm frightened! I asked Mr Smith whether I could change beds, but he point-blank refused, and said he'd spank me if I started spreading silly rumours about ghosts to frighten the girls in their new dorm."
Barbara Watson sighed. "Well, the sadist is right about that anyway. There are no such things as ghosts, you daft girl. It's probably an owl up there that nests in the old wall."
"I don't agree with you there, Babs!" said Carole Gibbs. "There are ghosts all right. When I lived out at Druids Heath the house next door had poltergeists! Father O'Malley had to be called to do an exorcism. Right terrifying it were!"
"And did they have children as well?" asked Barbara. "Or were they on the housing waiting list?"
"How did you know? They were on the waiting list, yes. And they did have children! Two teenagers!"
"Mmm. It's funny how teenagers and poltergeists seem to go together," Barbara replied sarcastically.
"That's because teenagers' sexually charged auras evoke ectoplasmic matter from the 'Unseen Kingdoms' which takes form as poltergeists," interjected little Fiona Williams. Barbara rolled her eyes. "Charlotte, I'm sure you're right about this ghost. What we should do is try to contact it through a Ouija board."
"For God's sake! Where are you going to get a Ouija board from? And if you could get one, when are you going to do it? You know as well as I do that it's an automatic six for being out of bed at night. And whoever's duty dorm monitor will get it as well. Don't be so childish."
"Childish yourself, granny!" said Charlotte. "Fiona's right. But we don't need a Ouija board. All we need is a glass from the kitchen and twenty six letters. It's our duty to try to contact the ghost. The poor thing's probably stuck between the worlds, lost in the lower astral plane unable to find the spirit world. We must help it if we can."
"But...!" said Barbara in exasperation.
"I remember Derek Acorah talking about this!" said Sophie Garland excitedly. "I expect the ghost has got some unfinished business here on earth. If we can find out what it is, and make it happen, the poor ghost will be released!"
"Yeah!" added Lucy Marshall. "We can steal a glass tonight at supper. And if we each give a sheet from our exercise books we can make the letters."
"But...!"
"Better use toilet paper," said Fiona. "I don't want to get the strap for defacing school property."
"But...!"
Ruby Ngona put her hand on Barbara's shoulder. "Give it up, Barbara. They have to learn the hard way. You can't save everyone's bottom, you know. Anyway, girls and ladies, it's time for prep!"
The bulge of the water glass in Lucy's blazer pocket was unfortunately all too obvious to the duty master supervising supper. He held out his hand patiently while the flustered, busted, young black woman took the glass unwillingly out of her pocket and handed it to him with downcast eyes.
"And just what did you intend to do with this, Marshall?"
She raised her eyes to him, dark and mournful. "Sir-s-sir I-I g-get thirsty at night, sir."
"How awful for you, Marshall. Unfortunately we have certain rules in this school. No glasses in dorms because of the health and safety risk. No stealing because, well, Marshall, it's wrong. We had thought you had learned that your thieving career caused more grief than it was worth. Four o'clock report tomorrow, Marshall. Your dorm master will have a chat with you tonight. But first, Marshall, I'm going to deal with the little matter of trying to pull a fast one on me." He took out from his jacket pocket a long narrow leather strap. "Bend over this table, girl. The rest of Form 4B, watch and learn."
With a deep half-tearful sigh, Lucy spread herself out face down over the dining table, bottom perched over the edge. Unable to decline Mr Smith's invitation to watch, Barbara sighed in turn and prepared to witness yet another casual beating. Oh why were these girls so stupid! She watched the master in his brown cord jacket with the leather elbow patches hoist Lucy's pleated blue skirt and blazer tail right up over her back. Brilliant white cotton knickers seemed dazzlingly prominent against her black skin. Not for long, as the tightly filled panties were brusquely pulled down to mid thigh. The suddenly exposed buttocks trembled in anticipation of punishment.
"Two dozen. Count 'em, girls." He raised the strap over his right shoulder, the business end in his left hand, and let fly. The speeding leather whipped across the quivering rump rounds, flattening them as it swept past. Lucy yowled and leapt forwards over the table, her hips rising. "One sir!" chorused Class 4B dutifully. Barbara hated that duty more than almost anything else. It was demeaning, and reduced her to consenting to her own punishment.
"Are you not a girl, Marshall?" enquired Mr Smith, though he could see that she was, as plain as plain.
"Sir, yes sir?" she gasped, clutching the edge of the table as the stripe burned down into her cheeks.
"Then why aren't you counting as well?
"Oh! Sorry sir! One sir!"
"Too late, miss. Let's start again." The strap caught her lower down, making the fleshy lower cheeks bulge beneath its corrective impact. This time Lucy sang out the correct response; but several voices piped up: "Two sir!" Mr Smith sighed like a very forbearing man having to deal with recalcitrant idiots. "Who said two? Hands up, or I'll wallop the lot of you."
Hesitantly, three hands crept skywards; Amelia Russell, Jenny Coughlan, and Sally Palmer. A moment later Grace Sylvester's hand joined them, after she had decided that she couldn't possibly get away with it. Mr Smith gestured at the four anxious faces. "Skirts up, knickers down, and over the table next to Marshall. I can see you all need a counting lesson."
They looked at each other in glum resignation. They all knew what that meant. Soon four shamed pink bottoms, ranging from tight and trim to bulging and pitted, most bearing traces of previous chastisement, were in line next to one partly-strapped black one. Above five trembling pairs of white knee socks five trembling pairs of thighs, pink and black, supported the doomed bottoms. Around the tops of the socks four pairs of variegated cotton panties dangled in disgrace.
"OK. Are we all ready to concentrate now? Sure? Good. Then I'll go on." Once more he laid on the strap with a will, and Lucy jerked and yelped as she felt it torch her tender ripe flesh. Everyone counted two, except for Jenny, who thought that being about to be punished herself relieved her of that duty. Mr Smith took up position over her prone form.
"Are you being deliberately cheeky, Coughlan?"
"No sir!" she squeaked. "I thought - YOWWW!!!"
"Not your strongest point, is it, Coughlan, thinking?" He followed up her first lick with seven more absolute stingers, fast and snappy, without a pause. Jenny's legs jumped and stamped behind her as her bottom pulsated with punishment. When he had done he palmed it for a moment, testing its heat. "Yes, that'll do till I come back." Over the table Jenny gasped and shook, trying to regain control. The least slip and this is where you ended up, in bare-bottomed humiliation getting your poor bum tanned! Oh horrible!
Lucy gripped the table edge and looked straight ahead of her with wide eyes. Why did she have to be the one who always got caught? Oooh it was stinging so much already and he had barely begun! Was he coming back now? Listening to another girl's whacks was so upsetting, but it was still better than getting them yourself! She could feel how exposed she was behind, but that was the least of her worries.
THHWWWAAAAPPPP!!! Oooogh!!! It's like being branded! "Three sir!"
THHWWWAAAAPPPP!!! Yowwweee!!! "Four sir please!"
THHWWWAAAAPPPP!!! "Owwwchohow!!! Five sir owow!!!"
THHWWWAAAAPPPP!!! Hellfire!!! "OwOWWWW sir please sir SIX!!!" It's rolling up and down my bum like liquid fire!
THHWWWAAAAPPPP!!! Ohhhhhhhhh!!! Must hold on! "YeeeOWWW!!! Seven sir! Oh! Oh - YEEEEOWWWWWWWWOOOGH!!! Eight please sir not so hard!!!" Damn, damn, damn, that hurts so much!
THHWWWAAAAPPPP!!! "YAAAAARGHOOO!!! Nine sir, nine, oh please! It really hurts!"
THHWWWAAAAPPPP!!! "YAUOWWWWWWWAGHHH!!! Ten sir (sob) ten sir! (Gasp!)" Must twist, must turn, must hold on!
THHWWWAAAAPPPP!!! (Mind ablaze and numbed, mouth open but no sound comes out; salty tears trickle in. Then) "(sob sob sob) Oh e-e-eleven sir! Oh sir!"
THHWWWAAAAPPPP!!! Oh kick, kick, kick!!! "Twee-e-e-elve sir!"
Mr Smith contemplated his light-fingered pupil's writhing hips and bobbing head and shoulders and white-welted young buttocks with calm satisfaction. He stretched the strap tight behind his back, and went up and down on the balls of his feet. Barbara clenched her fists until they hurt with her impotent rage. He stepped to one side, aware of the tense strained silence of his audience now that their unhappy voices had finished counting. He turned to the frightened four bent and bared for a maths lesson. "So these are the girls who can't tell the difference between one and two, eh?" He hefted the strap and walloped Grace right across the centre of her up-thrust backside. She yipped and bucked. "How many's that, Sylvester?"
"Oh sir! One sir!"
"And how many's this?" THHWWWAAAAPPPP!!! THHWWWAAAAPPPP!!! The end of the strap squashed each cheek in turn.
"Ow sir ow sir! Two sir!"
"Are you sure, girl?"
"Yes sir!"
"And this?" THHWWWAAAAPPPP!!!
"Owww!!! One sir!"
"And this?" THHWWWAAAAPPPP!!! THHWWWAAAAPPPP!!!
"EEEECHH!!! Two sir (gasp)!"
"Hmm. You seem to have grasped it. Stay there and think it over while I check with the others."
And he made his way down the line of bending girls, though 'girl' was hardly an adequate description of the criminal 'grandmother' Sally Palmer. Adequate or not she had to suffer and respond like the others. Then each got a final one and two, just to ensure that they had finally learned the difference between those numbers.
"Okey dokey. Up you get. Not you, Marshall. I haven't finished with you yet. Knickers up, girls, and back in line." The four pairs of vari-coloured cotton panties whispered against skin as they were hauled shamefacedly up and snapped back over hot buttocks with oohs and ahs. Mr Smith returned to Lucy. Her striped and prominent chubs wobbled badly, a sure sign of encouraging terror. "Marshall, what's wrong with stealing?"
THHWWWAAAAPPPP!!! Agitation of smitten cheeks.
"OWWWAGH!!! THIRTEEN SIR! It's selfish and dishonest sir!"
"Correct!"
THHWWWAAAAPPPP!!! Drawing up of burning, roughly welted posterior.
"YOOOWAAGH!!! FOURTEEEEEN SIR!!! Oh please sir it's too much!"
"So why did you steal the glass, Marshall, when you knew you were doing wrong?"
THHWWWAAAAPPPP!!! Tossing and stretching of white panties between strong scissoring thighs.
"OOOOHHHHHHHH!!! AUOWWW!!! FIFTEEN SIR!!! I'm a bad girl sir (sob)"
THHWWWAAAAPPPP!!! Kicking up of school shoes over a wriggling bottom.
"That won't wash with me, Marshall. Why exactly did you steal the glass?"
"EEEEEEEYOOOWWWWWW!!! WOWW!!! WOWW!!! WOWWW!!! Oh sir, I'm sorry sir, sixteen sir, (gasp) I get thirsty at night sir (sob)."
"So you thought that justified disobedience, did you?"
THHWWWAAAAPPPP!!! Banging of hands on the table top, hands frantic to react to the scorching anguish of high speed leather against bare bottom.
"YAAAAAUUUOOOWWWWAGGHH!!! SEVENTEEN SIR!!! Oh sir, please no more! (sob gasp) No sir!"
"No? Surely you mean yes!"
THHWWWAAAAPPPP!!! Widely kicking legs beneath dark crimson cheeks expose Lucy's most intimate parts to the scrutiny of a bored teacher going through the disciplinary motions.
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