War and Peace
Copyright 2000, 2002 by Iphigenia-at-Aulis
iphigenia-at-aulis@angelfire.com
Uh-oh... There was Ms Rankor, the dean, looking mean as ever. Why was she
coming through the girls locker room? Somebody was in trouble. Who? Please
not me.
She was looking for someone. She glanced in my direction. I cringed. But she
looked through me and continued on.
But what was that thing in her hand? Some kind of paddle? I had never seen
anything like it. Black, its handle was long, more than a cubit in length. The
rectangular business end was small, as long as my hand but narrower.
At the next row of lockers I heard her say, "Diana. There you are."
Oh no. My best friend Diana. What did Miss Rankor want with her? Should I
stay out of the way, or should I go over to her? Even though I was only wearing
a towel, and even though there was nothing specific I could do to help, I felt
that going over to her now might provide Diana with some sense of solidarity
against Ms Rankor.
I heard Ms Rankor say, "Where have you been? I've been looking everywhere for
you." That is Ms Rankor, true to form. Diana had been in gym class, exactly
where she was supposed to be. But if Ms Rankor didn't know where Diana was
supposed to be, then in her mind it was Diana's fault.
Hard and aggressive. Those are terms to describe Ms Rankor. Probably in her
late thirties, athletically built, with short-trimmed tawny hair. A drill
sergeant ...or even better, a prison warden: that should be her true calling.
As I rounded the row of lockers, a meek-looking Diana was murmuring something
inaudible. Dismayed that she had been put on the defensive about her
whereabouts, I could not keep silent. "Diana has been in gym class. That's
where she's supposed to be now."
Ms Rankor turned toward me and glared. I stopped in my tracks. But even if I
wasn't going forward, I wasn't retreating either. Not wanting to challenge Ms
Rankor further, I did not return her gaze. Instead I looked toward Diana. She
seemed to appreciate that I had come to her defense. Having been interrupted in
the process of getting dressed, she was wearing her skirt and bra.
Ms Rankor then turned again toward Diana. "I have reason to believe that you
might be carrying drugs on your person. I am going to have to search you."
That had to be a bunch of shit. I'm sure she was fabricating that as an excuse
for harassing Diana. In my opinion Ms Rankor is mentally unstable, perhaps
dangerously so. She had got it into her mind that Diana deserved to be
harassed, and was going out of her way to do so.
One reason might be that Diana has a bumper sticker on her loose leaf binder
notebook. It says "Question Authority". That's the kind of thing that might
set off Ms Rankor. Diana and I had put bumper stickers on our notebooks at the
same time a couple months ago. Mine said "Question Reality". But I took mine
off after about a month. I felt too conspicuous. I think life is safer if
you're inconspicuous.
"Place your hands on your head," Ms Rankor ordered Diana. "That's good. Now
I'm going to pat you down."
She then began running her hands over Diana's body. As a search this was
totally absurd. She was just trying to violate Diana's personal space. After
feeling over her back, sides, and midriff, she put her hands inside Diana's bra
and worked her breasts for several moments. Diana winced. I knew Ms Rankor was
pinching her. Such a foul woman.
"I believe I'll need to remove your bra in order to search you properly." Ms
Rankor then opened the clasp and slipped it off Diana.
After examining the bra carefully, Ms Rankor then took it upon herself to
re-examine Diana's breasts, clasping them firmly, as Diana squirmed. This
completed, she then loosened Diana's skirt and let it drop to the floor, and
finally pulled down her panties, leaving Diana completely naked.
"Spread your legs," ordered Ms Rankor.
With Diana's legs spread, Mr Rankor then abruptly fingered her up her tunnel.
"Ow! Damn you." Diana jerked away from her, and backing away, with voice
trembling, exclaimed, "Get away from me, you awful bitch!"
This look went into Ms Rankor's eyes. "How dare you speak to me like that."
As she eyed Diana, I spoke up, "Leave Diana alone. She's done nothing wrong.
You have no right."
"Well, Jenny," said Ms Rankor, with surprising mildness. "I've acquired a high
regard for you since our last significant interaction." She must have been
referring to the time she had me disciplined right out in front of the boys
volleyball league, an incident I have described in my previous story titled
'Arousing Courage'.
Ms Rankor continued, "Since you seem to think that I have no right, perhaps it
might be best if I assign you the task of disciplining Diana. You can be the
one who wields the paddle. Now watch closely and I'll show you how it's done."
"No! I'm not going to whack my friend with that thing."
"Jenny, I thought you had learned some respect for my disciplinary techniques."
"No matter what you do, you can't make me hit Diana. Even if you use it on me
instead, I still won't hit Diana with it."
"Well, you have a choice. Either you can give your friend six strokes. Or you
can watch me give her a dozen. Which do you prefer?"
"Oh Jenny, please!" interjected Diana.
I knew I had no choice. Reluctantly I said, "All right. ...I'll do it." I
glanced at Diana uncertainly. She looked at me gratefully.
Ms Rankor then had Diana, still completely naked, stand, legs apart on either
side of the bench, then bend over and hold the bench. Ms Rankor then proceeded
to demonstrate how it was done. She stood a bit away from Diana, and swooshed
the paddle through empty air, sort of like a baseball batter warming up, except
holding the paddle with only one hand.
All the while, at the end of the aisle, a number of other girls stood by
witnessing this spectacle. It was an odd mixture of girls I don't much like,
smirking in anticipation, and friends, watching gravely.
"Now watch as I show you how it is done."
A sharp whaaack rent the air as she brought the paddle across Diana's rear.
"Ahhhhhh! Ow... Ow!" gasped Diana, writhing with pain. Ms Rankor paused,
giving Diana a chance to steady herself. Then she whacked her a second time.
...And a third. Diana cried out with each stroke.
"You see how it is done. Quite simple really. Now it is your turn. Six swats,
good and hard."
"But you've already given her three," I protested.
"No, no. Those were only practice, to show you how it is done. Now let's get
on with this. Surely Diana wants to get this over with too."
I positioned myself beside Diana, and placed the paddle on her rear end. From
her bent-over position, she looked up at me expectantly. I hesitated for
several moments.
"Just do it," Diana murmured. "Don't keep me like this."
I brought back the paddle and slapped it lightly onto her rear. She flinched.
I hesitated, then slapped it onto her rear again. Then a third, fourth, fifth,
and sixth. Diana was taking it quite well. But I knew I wasn't hitting her
very hard.
I glanced at Ms Rankor. She was shaking her head. "When you finish practicing
getting the feel of the paddle, then you need to get on with administering
Diana's six swats. ...None of those were nearly hard enough. They don't
count."
I stared at Ms Rankor.
"Don't feign ignorance with me, Jenny. You know very well that you were barely
tapping her. Now either you administer six hard swats - hard as you can - or I
will administer one dozen so hard that Diana won't be able to sit down for a
week."
"Please, Jenny, just do what she says. Please just hit me hard," pleaded Diana.
I then positioned the paddle on her butt cheeks, brought it back, and swung
hard. Whaaack! "Oww! Oh!" she gasped. I was alarmed at how much I had hurt
her.
"Much better," said Ms Rankor. "I knew you could do it. Five more, and don't
you dare to ease the intensity."
I swung hard again. Whaaack! Right across where the butt cheeks join the
thighs. Diana cried out and brought her hand back to rub her stinging bottom.
I couldn't bear to hit her so hard. For the next one I eased up a bit. Diana
still gasped loudly.
"Oh no! That is unacceptable. Take that one over. And if you ease up like
that again, it will be two extra swats to make up for it," insisted Ms Rankor.
"Oh Jenny, please do it right," pleaded Diana.
I swung the paddle again. "Aaaaah! Ow... ooh!" Writhing, Diana swayed her
rear back and forth.
At this point I could feel my towel, the only thing I was wearing, begin to
loosen. So it wouldn't fall off, I stopped to secure it better above my
breasts. Diana took the opportunity to nurse her burning rear.
Ms Rankor said, "Jenny, I think you could do a better job with the paddle if you
didn't need to worry about your towel falling off." She snatched it quickly off
my body. I attempted to hold on to it. I didn't want her to strip me. But
suddenly I realized that Ms Rankor was powerless to humiliate me if I cared
nothing about being naked in front of her. I let go of the towel with disdain.
Now as naked as Diana, I continued my task. It was a strange feeling to swat
that wicked device against Diana's smooth rear. Underneath the abhorrence of
inflicting pain, there was a feeling of forcefulness ...perhaps even
exhilaration. I don't think I have much tendency toward sadistic
manifestations. But I remembered the time the three volleyball league guys had
whipped me. Now I had an inkling of the ecstacy they were clearly feeling when
they lashed me with a thong.
Three more hard swats on her rear. Whaaack! "Ow! Ow! Ahh..." Diana, in
anguish, swayed her rear back and forth. I hate having to confess that her
anguished undulations looked erotic to me. ...Whaaack! "Ooooooh!"
...Whaack! "Ahhhhhh! Ahh... ahh..."
The spanking completed, Diana slowly straightened, gasping with the pain, tears
running down her cheeks. She stood rubbing her reddened rear.
Ms Rankor and I traded towel for paddle. "Now Jenny, wrap that towel around
you, before someone sees you." She smirked as she glanced around at the
onlookers. Then turning to Diana, she said, "There, let that be a lesson to you.
Now put on your clothes."
"A lesson for what? Diana never did anything wrong in the first place." As
soon as I said that, I knew that in the heat of the moment I had done a really
foolish thing. Arguing with an irrational person is not going to accomplish
anything positive.
Ms Rankor glared at me. "Well, what Diana is going to learn now is that she
would be better off if she didn't pick friends who smart-mouth me." Ms Rankor
opened her belt pouch - she always seems to be wearing that thing - and groped
around for something inside it.
I wrapped my towel around me - as securely as I could. Diana meanwhile had
gingerly slipped her panties over her flushed rear, and was about to put on her
bra.
"Before you put on that bra, could you hand it to Jenny."
Diana looked quizzically at Ms Rankor, but nevertheless handed me the bra. I
had no idea what Ms Rankor was up to.
"Now Jenny, I want you to place these inside Diana's bra. Hold out your hand."
I held out my hand. Into it she placed a couple of large, prickly globe
thistles. I looked at Ms Rankor aghast.
"Now place them right in the middle of each cup. We want Diana to feel the
sensation abundantly."
I just stared at the thistles in my hand, trying to imagine what Diana would
feel having them pressed into her nipples. Was I really going to do this to
her? Should I refuse? What was the best course of action?
"Now Jenny, you act as if you've never seen thistles before. Just do as I say
and put them in Diana's bra."
I continued to hesitate. Finally I made up my mind. Not only would I refuse to
cooperate, I was going to actively resist. If she punished me, so be it.
Without a word I turned around, walked over to the trash receptacle and threw
the thistles into it. Then I just kept walking, back to my locker in the next
isle.
"Jenny! H... h... how dare you defy me!"
Without taking off my towel I quickly put on my panties. If I could just get my
clothes on, I wouldn't feel half as vulnerable. I had slipped off my towel and
was attempting to get my bra on when Ms Rankor pulled up beside me wielding that
paddle. I had a fantasy that if I could just keep from acknowledging her, she
would go away.
She gave me a quick swat on the rear. "Ow!" What a sting. Having distracted
me thus, she snatched the bra from my hand. It was no use trying to get
dressed; she had no intention of letting me. Rather I folded my arms across my
chest, and awaited my fate as impassively as I could.
Nevertheless, it was all I could do to contain my fear. I had good reason to
fear her - she had once had me whipped on the breasts. On the other hand,
having weathered that whipping, albeit with a lot of moral support (as told in
'Arousing Courage'), I had a small sense of my own strength.
"Jenny, it seems that you possess a great wish to be punished. And since I have
come to have a certain level of esteem for you, I feel obliged to honor your
wish."
"I don't have a great wish to be punished. I only wish that you would stop
punishing Diana, who has done nothing to deserve it. ...I think you're the one
with the great wish ...to inflict punishment." The boldness of my words
surprised even me as I heard them roll off my tongue.
Ms Rankor glared at me. "Your sassiness is most unseemly. I am going to need
to discipline you. ...But what to do with you, that is the question. I am
beginning to think you are incorrigible."
As she stood eyeing me for several moments, I pondered her words. To hear her
talk, you'd think I was a school troublemaker. Actually, other than having a
mild streak of nonconformity in me, I might be one of the most innocuous people
here. If I weren't such a good student, I think I'd be almost invisible to the
faculty.
"Slip off your panties and bend over and hold the bench - the same position
Diana used."
Slipping off my panties, I did as she said, and bent over, legs apart on either
side of the bench. My heart was pounding. I tried to convince myself that the
pain would come and go quickly enough, while leaving me fundamentally unharmed.
"Arch your back nicely downwards, rear up. Keep your legs straight. ...That's
good." She passed her hand over my rear and down the back of my thighs.
Stepping back, Ms Rankor brushed the paddle against my rear. As she brought it
away again, I closed my eyes. Whaaack! "Ow! Ahh... ahhhh..." Such a stinging
intensity. Writhing in aguish, I almost fell forward.
Ms Rankor paused waiting for me to compose myself. ...Whaaack! "Ooooooh!"
...Whaaack! "Oww! Oh... no... no..." Writhing, I couldn't help bringing one
hand back to rub my burning butt for a few moments. A friend who witnessed it
told me later that I was wriggling my rear, in her words, 'sexily' after each
stroke. Well maybe it's nice that she could see some allure in the situation.
I could not. I was just trying to endure the ferocious intensity of that
stinging pain.
Whaaack! "Ohhhhh!" ...Whaaack! "Ahhhhhhh! Oh god...."
"Shall I make the last one the hardest? One worth remembering?"
"No, don't... don't..." I murmured.
Whaaack! "Oooooooh! Oh... oh..." I brought my hand back to soothe the sting.
After a few moments I forced myself to straighten up, wiping the tears from my
eyes.
"You may put on your panties now."
I slowly did so, gingerly slipping them over my burning rear end. The stinging
had subsided just enough that the thought that I had survived this ordeal now
entered my mind.
"Now hand me your bra."
I gave it to her impassively. If fate had decreed that Ms Rankor wasn't
finished with me, then there was nothing I could do about it. ...She was
digging into her belt pouch again. I didn't have the energy to wonder what she
was intending now.
...Oh no, there she had more thistles. With arms folded across my chest, I
watched as she carefully stuck a pair of them inside my bra. I cradled my
nipples in my hands as I imagined those thistles pricking into them.
"There, that should be satisfactory." Ms. Rankor was smiling. "Now be a good
girl and raise your arms over your head while I help you put this on."
As the bra was the stretchy type without front or back clasp, I slipped it over
my head and into place while Ms Rankor, reaching around from behind me, kept the
thistles from being dislodged. With her hands inside my bra, her fingers
represented the last barrier between those thistles and my nipples. She took
this opportunity to gently knead my breasts with her fingers.
"Place your hands behind your head." She continued kneading my breasts. "Well
Jenny, those thistles are really pricking the backs of my fingers. I'm afraid
that I cannot continue to protect you. Soon I'll have to remove my hands. But
you keep your hands behind your head. Are you ready?"
I spoke nought, but tried to be aware of the sound of my breathing. I
recognized the anticipatory dread of the coming moment to be mere thought, not
the reality of the present moment. I had to remind myself that I actually did
not know what was to come. I actually did not know very much at all about
reality. . . . Meanwhile, Ms Rankor just kept gently kneading my breasts,
letting the moments linger.
Finally she slipped her hands out from under my bra. The pricking thistles
pressed into my nipples. I gasped. There was an initial stir of erotic
sensation, but the thistles jabbed too bitterly. Writhing, I tried to twist
away somehow to relieve that pricking torment, but there was no escape.
Realizing that there was no help for it, I tried to steady myself, still keeping
my hands behind my head, panting shallowly.
How long would I have to bear this? I did not want to beg Ms Rankor. At the
end of the row of lockers, that same bunch of girls were watching the spectacle
of my torment. Finally, mustering as much composure as I could, I asked
weakly, "May I get dressed now?"
Ms. Rankor smiled at me, and moved several steps back. "Yes Jenny, you may get
dressed. But don't remove those thistles until I tell you."
I slowly brought my arms down and reached into my locker for my blouse, and
moving stiffly, slipped it on. All motion seemed to jab the thistles into my
nipples in some new way. Still, perhaps oddly, the element of erotic
stimulation was still there. Nevertheless, I wanted those thistles off me. I
had to finish getting dressed and get away. Still under the eyes of Ms Rankor,
I then managed to get my skirt, socks, and shoes on.
I closed up my gym locker and headed toward the door. Passing along the rows of
lockers, my surroundings were swimming. Those prickly things jabbing into my
nipples. I just had to get them off.
I exited to the main corridor. The last class of the afternoon having been let
out about 15 minutes ago, the hallway was still fairly crowded with kids. Right
before me a group of about a dozen guys were talking boisterously. At this
point I didn't care who saw me, I reached into the top of my blouse, into my bra
and removed first one, then the other thistle.
Feeling as though I could breathe again, I leaned against the wall, eyes closed,
tears of relief streaming down my cheeks.
"...Are you okay?"
As I opened my eyes, several guys were crowding around me solicitously. One of
them was Mick, who has become a really dear friend since the events we shared in
the 'Arousing Courage' story. "What happened?" he asked gently, moving close.
There was a hubbub of other guys' voices. "What's that in her hand?" "It's
something I just saw her pull out from inside her blouse." "Let's see."
I opened my hand, revealing the two thistles. "Ms Rankor stuck them inside my
bra and made me wear it - after she had whacked me on the butt with this long
paddle thing."
Mick took the thistles, displaying them in his open palm. I looked in his face.
To my dismay his expression was neither of sympathy nor of indignation, but of
delighted wonder. What kind of chivalrous knight was he? His eyes sparkled as
he asked, "Pressed against your nipples?"
The other guys quickly crowded in. "Lemme see that!" Hands grabbed for them;
the thistles disappeared from Mick's open palm. There was shouting, scuffling.
"They were stuck on her nips!" "I gotta have one." "Get back, it's mine!"
"Where's the other one?" "Let go!" "Open your hand or I'll wrench it off!"
"Ow! Asshole! Take the goddamn thing." "If she ever gets one stuck in her
twat, it's mine." "Cool!"
I stood speechless, mouth agape. They had been fighting to possess the
implements of my torment. I looked at Mick. Although he hadn't participated in
the scuffle, he looked highly amused. He's supposed to be my friend. How could
he be so unsympathetic?
"God, Mick, it really hurt. Why are you being so... uh... Oh, why don't you
jab some thistles into your nipples and see how you like it."
Changing his manner, he replied, "I'm sorry, Jenny. It's really awful what Ms
Rankor did to you. I feel really bad for you." But I could still detect the
remnant of a smile on his face. Nevertheless, I allowed him to give me a hug.
Despite my misgivings about Mick's attitude, his embrace still felt warm and
protecting. As we held each other tightly, a glow bathed my world.
But then one of the guys, Josh, who is sort of a clown, piped up, "First aid,
first aid, stand clear! Gimme some room!"0
Mick released me. It looked like he was suppressing an impish grin when he
said, "Maybe we should check to make sure you're okay."
Josh added, "There's got to be at least one future doctor in the group. Come
on, don't be modest."
Then another of the guys, Brian, spoke seemingly with great sincerity, "I've
taken the Red Cross lifesaving course, so I really do know first aid. I can
help. You really ought to have your breasts looked at right now, Jenny."
I just looked at him quizzically. Then the corners of his mouth started to go
up in a mischievous grin. I couldn't believe that after the ordeal I had gone
through, all these guys could think of was trying to get me to bare my breasts
for them.
Without hiding my annoyance, I demanded, "What kind of first aid can you
possibly give me without any stuff? What are you planning to do, give me a
healing massage?"
The effect of those words was the exact opposite of what I intended. There was
a clamor of voices, "Yes! Yes! Massage your breasts." "Come on, Jenny,
please, you got to." "You'll love it." "So will we!"
There was no way I was going to get the last word in with this crew. I figured
I better just keep quiet. I looked at Mick. He suppressed the big grin on his
face, saying, "Uh... Well... Are you going to your locker? I'll walk with
you."
As we headed down the corridor toward my locker, leaving the rest of those guys
behind, I could hear them grousing about their failure. It sounded as if they
thought that if they could just come up with the right line, I would peel off my
top in front of them and submit to their feeling hands.
"Don't take it seriously, Jenny. They weren't trying to give you a hard time.
It's just, uh... you know... if it has to do with your breasts, guys are going
to get excited."
Even though I thought that he probably meant breasts in general rather than my
breasts in particular, I thought I would give him a hard time. "MY breasts?
What's so special about my breasts. Why not somebody like Hilda? Somebody
who's ...um ...like really statuesque."
Mick grimaced, shaking his head. "Her? Not my ideal, obviously." After a
moment, with a furtive smile and an oblique glance, he added, "Sometimes you
talk like you suffer from low self esteem."
I frowned at him. "Okay, so she's not your type. What's that got to do with my
self esteem? ...You're being really annoying today, you know?"
"Geez, you're taking everything I say so negatively. It wasn't supposed to be
an insult. It was supposed to be... oh, never mind." He took my hand in his as
we continued down the hall.
After a time he said, "Ms Rankor really is unfair. Please don't think I'm
unsympathetic. It's just that, well, you know, your punishment can also be
viewed, um ...like, erotically."
"Maybe to you," I said stiffly.
"Well, how about to you?"
I didn't know what to say. Right then I did not wish to admit that some facet
of my being was affected erotically. Arriving at my locker, I proceeded to
unlock it and get my books.
As I arranged my backpack, Diana appeared down the hall and came up to us. "Oh
Jenny, are you okay? I'm really sorry I didn't stay with you. I hate Ms Rankor
so bad, I just had to get away."
Hugging her I said, "I think I'm okay now. There was no reason for you to stay.
She might have made you punish me if you had. ...But are you okay? God, I
hated having to hit you with that awful thing." I couldn't admit to myself, let
alone to Diana, the mixture of feelings I had about disciplining her - the
abhorrence of suffering mingled with an exhilaration of power.
Diana replied, "I'd love to get back at her some way."
"Hmm... Trash her office?" Mick mused.
"Yeah, we could climb through the window into her office," agreed Diana.
I interjected, "I don't know. Revenge doesn't sound real wholesome to me."
"Hey, I got an idea," said Mick. "We could sprinkle a vial of butyric acid in
her office."
"Butyric acid?"
"You know. The organic acid version of butane. Mr Fieser had us sniff the
bottle with the lid still screwed on tight, and up close you could still smell
it. Like a combination of dogfart and old raunchy sweat socks. Awesomely
odoriferous!"
"Well... Trying to break into the chemistry lab store room to get it doesn't
sound feasible to me," said Diana.
"Yeah, maybe not," conceded Mick.
I then tried to return the conversation to my previous point. "Have you ever
seen that bumper sticker that says 'Don't Get Even - Get Odd'?"
"Oh, Jenny," Mick laughed. "You're already odd - and it's contagious."
By now we had walked out the front entrance of the school. There was the window
to Ms Rankor's office. ...It was open.
Like moths to a flame we gravitated toward it. ...Maybe just to check out
whether Ms Rankor was in there. ...She wasn't.
"Well?" Mick looked at us expectantly.
"It looks like our golden opportunity," said Diana, glancing around before
pushing the window further open. "The coast is clear. Want to give me a boost
so I can get in?"
"Diana, you're crazy. Don't do it." There was a knot in my stomach.
Mick locked his hands together for Diana to use as a step, and in a moment she
had slid though with an grunt.
"Well?" asked Mick, looking at me.
I was torn. The thought of climbing into Ms Rankor's office was truly
frightening to me. But there was an attraction of the intrigue of spying on the
authorities. Also, I felt like I ought to try to protect Diana from doing
anything totally crazy in there. A little reluctantly, I placed a foot into
Mick's hands, and he boosted me in.
"Ooph," as I slid though and tumbled onto the floor. I quickly got up and
looked around. I had been in this room only once before. I stared fearfully at
the inside door, as though the knob might begin to turn at any moment.
"Diana, this is really risky. Without warning Ms Rankor could come right
through that door."
"Yeah, I know. Tell Mick to go back in the hallway and guard the door."
I went to the window. Mick was about to climb in. "Mick, don't come in. You
need to go back in through the entrance and guard the door to her office.
Signal us somehow if you see her coming."
"Oh, yeah. I better do that. ...If you hear a knock on the door, that's me,
and it means get the hell out though the window as fast as you can."
When I turned around, Diana was squatting on the floor. Oh my god! She was
taking a whiz. Grinning, she said, "I'm so nervous, I can't hold it. It's my
present for Ms Rankor. Soon as I'm done, let's get out."
Stunned, I watched the puddle growing in the middle of Ms Rankor's floor. As
Diana finished up and was pulling up her panties, I heard a key in the door. A
second later, the door swung open and there was Ms Rankor, looking right at us,
paddle still in hand, a surprised expression on her face.
Seeing the wide-open window, she said, "How nice of you to come and visit me.
And so soon! I had thought you wouldn't want to see me again . . ." It was
then that she noticed the puddle in the middle of her floor. She stared at it,
then at us. I felt sick.
"Is that what I think it is?" There was an ominous tone in her voice.
Neither Diana nor I said a word. I was paralyzed.
"Well," continued Ms Rankor. "You two girls present a formidable disciplinary
challenge. It seems that our earlier encounter failed to make an impression on
you. Apparently you need something more severe."
She went to a closet and took out a thin cane that must have been as long as I
am tall. Then taking a long carrying bag full of stuff, she said, "Girls, we're
going to the gymnasium, and I'm bringing my teaching tools."
She had us lead the way out of her office. In the corridor stood Mick, looking
unhappy and apologetic. I nodded to him to try to indicate that it was okay. I
understood that Ms Rankor had caught us before he could even get to her doorway
to post a lookout. It was just bad luck. ...Or perhaps there was no luck
involved. Perhaps this was simply meant to be.
"Mick," said Ms Rankor, "I may need you to help me with these unruly girls. I'd
like you to come with us to the gymnasium."
Mick looked alarmed. But I was cheered by this development. Nothing could be
all bad if Mick was there.
We entered the gymnasium. I stopped in my tracks. There were a bunch of kids,
mostly guys, shooting baskets. Ms Rankor wasn't going to discipline us right
out in front on all these kids, was she? I turned to look at her.
"Move along, Jenny. Don't give me that pleading look. Continue to the center
of the gymnasium."
I continued into the room. Ms Rankor was going to try to humiliate us by
punishing us in front of all these students. Somehow I had to resign myself to
that. Could I convince myself that it wasn't humiliating to be punished by her
in public? ...After all, everybody hates Ms Rankor. Everybody knows she's
crazy. ...Still, I had to repress the thought that she might make us bare
ourselves out here in front of the boys.
As we arrived in the middle of the room, some of the kids had begun to take
notice of us. But I knew it would be better not to get involved in thoughts
about what they were thinking. Who knows what they were thinking. ...Maybe
they weren't thinking anything. ...In fact, maybe they didn't exist outside my
own mind. ...Maybe none of this existed outside my own mind.
"Okay now, Diana and Jenny, remove your shoes and socks."
Without bending over, I managed to push off my running shoes. Alternately
balancing on one leg, I yanked off each sock. I glanced around the room. All
activity had stopped. All eyes were fixed on us.
"Now remove your blouse and skirt."
Even though I suspected that this was coming, the words nevertheless hit with a
punch. I took a deep breath. But I didn't want to hesitate. I did not want to
give Ms Rankor the pleasure of knowing how distressing it was to have to strip,
even partially, in front of all these guys.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Diana begin to undress. At a
deliberate pace, neither hurrying nor dallying, I too unbuttoned my blouse,
slipped it off, and dropped it to the floor. I loosened my skirt, and let it
drop. I stepped out of it and pushed it away with my toe. I glanced over at
Diana. She also was down to her bra and panties.
"Very good," said Ms Rankor. She circumambulated us, eyeing our bodies. "Now
you may each remove your bra."
Oh god. How could she make us bare our breasts in front of all these guys?
Just because this had happened to me once before, as told elsewhere, didn't make
it any easier this time. I glanced around the room. But seeing all those eager
eyes fixed on us, I wished I hadn't. Better to keep the eyes down.
I knew I better get on with it, lest I reveal how distressing this was to me.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Diana had already dropped her bra on
the floor. I lifted mine, slipped it off over my head, and dropped it to the
floor.
There we were, displayed bare breasted together in front of everybody. Both of
us kept our arms at our sides. I'm not sure what was going on in Diana's mind,
but I know I had no intention of expressing weakness or shame by covering my
breasts with my arms. I stood straight.
I glanced over at Mick. He was staring at my breasts, seemingly enraptured. No
use trying to make eye contact with him.
I couldn't help glancing at the assembled crowd. So many eyes. I forced myself
to return their gaze. Some kept their eyes on Diana, some on me, others shifted
back and forth as if comparing our bodies. ...But why was I dissipating my
energy on these kind of unhelpful thoughts.
I reached out unobtrusively and touched Diana's hand. She responded by tightly
clasping mine for a brief moment. In that instant a surge of energy flowed
between us, a spirit of unity.
Ms Rankor then came around in front of me, eyeing my body. "Jenny, I see you
removed the thistles from inside your bra - without my permission."
How should I reply? I didn't want to reveal to her how tormenting it was to
have those awful thistles pressed against my nipples. But if I said nothing, I
might appear defiant. I thought I better say something. "Yes ma'am," I spoke
meekly.
"Why?"
I pondered a moment. "I thought I had been punished as much as you intended to
punish me." It seemed like as good an answer as could be found, although there
wasn't much truth in it. Those thistles had been so awful that I had to take
them out at my first opportunity, irrespective of what I thought Ms Rankor had
intended for me.
"You thought you had been punished enough?"
"Yes ma'am."
"Jenny, I know you're an intelligent girl. Don't you think that's a nonsensical
answer? If you had been punished enough, then wouldn't your behavior have
improved sufficiently that you wouldn't be here now?"
I thought to myself, maybe punishment has nothing to do with improving behavior.
Maybe punishment is done just for the sake of punishment. ...But I had no
intention of saying such a thing. I was in enough trouble. I didn't wish to
appear rebellious. I merely said, "I don't know. I'm not trying to get in an
argument."
She looked at me a bit strangely, as though she wondered what was behind my
answer. But then she shrugged and moved her eyes down my body. I resisted the
urge to cross my arms over my chest.
Ms Rankor then said, "Girls, you may now remove your panties."
Oh, what a bitch, to make us strip completely right here in front of all these
guys. I felt anger and disgust toward her. But somehow I realized that her
ability to humiliate me depended on my desire to keep myself covered. If I
severed allegiance to society's conventions, then what did it matter whether I
was naked or clothed? So what if everyone could see my bare skin? Even having
never seen me naked, they basically already knew what was under my clothes.
I glanced around the room. Everyone was watching us expectantly. Diana was
already slipping off her panties. I wondered how she was doing. It has always
seemed that she was inherently less modest than me. Perhaps this was no great
struggle for her. ...Not wishing to grant Ms Rankor the satisfaction of
realizing what torment this was for me, I slipped off my panties without further
ado.
Ms Rankor eyed us both for a few moments. Then she said, "Now place your feet
apart, and put your hands behind your head."
We did as we were told, presenting our naked bodies to the eyes of all
assembled. Moment followed moment. I closed my eyes, imaging myself alone at
the edge of a meadow, presenting my body to the cooling breeze. I imagined
butterflies fluttering about me, the sun kissing my nakedness...
Whoosh... thaaack! "Oooooh! Ow!" My butt! I spun around, instinctively
bringing my hands down to protect myself. There was Ms Rankor, wielding that
long cane. The stroke had taken me completely by surprise. Ms Rankor looked
startled by the unanticipated intensity of my reaction.
Murmuring an apology, I turned back around and resumed my position, legs apart,
hands behind my head. Waiting for the next stroke... waiting...
Whoosh ...thaaack! "Ow... Ow!" I couldn't help crying out, the sting was so
intense.
Whoosh ...thaaack! "Ahhhhhh! Oh god..." I brought my hands down to rub my
burning butt.
She moved over to Diana. Whoosh ...thaaack! "Ooh! Oh . . ." Diana gasped
loudly. . . . Whoosh ...thaaack! "Ouch! It hurts!" Then a third. Whoosh
...thaaack! "Ow! Ahhh... ahhh..." Diana was gasping, panting.
Ms Rankor came back to me. Whoosh ...thaaack! "Ahhhhhhh!" I writhed.
"Shall I increase the intensity?" she asked, pausing.
Shaking my head, I murmured plaintively, "Don't... It hurts so much."
Whoosh ...thaaack! "Ow-ow-ow!" ...And one more. Whoosh ...thaaack!
"Ahhhhhhh! Ahh... ahh..." Tears were running down my cheeks.
She moved back to Diana and delivered three more to her. Whoosh ...thaaack!
"Ow! Please!" ...Whoosh ...thaaack! "Ooooooh!" ...Whoosh ...thaaack!
"Ahhhhhhh! Please no more."
"Perhaps that's enough to get you warmed up," said Ms Rankor. "Now Mick, get a
few guys to help you bring the parallel bars out to the middle of the floor.
Jenny and Diana, you just maintain your position for now."
While Mick and some other guys went to bring the parallel bars out, Ms Rankor
started rummaging though her bag. I wondered what she had in mind for us.
Several guys took this opportunity to move in close to Diana and me, looking us
over really carefully as we stood before them hands on head, legs apart. I felt
so aggrieved, so exposed, so vulnerable.
A few of the guys were quietly commenting amongst themselves, comparing and
contrasting the merits of each of our bodies. I don't think they were trying to
be cruel. Indeed, in retrospect I realize that they considered much of what
they said to be highly complementary to both of us. Nevertheless, it seemed
really insensitive. It was awful enough to be disciplined naked in front of
them without them making comments, positive or otherwise, about our bodies.
The parallel bars now having been brought out, Ms Rankor proceeded to fasten two
metal bars, about a centimeter thick, perpendicularly across the parallel bars
using duct tape. While she was doing that, Mick came over and put his arm
around me.
"Don't be afraid," he whispered. "You've got more than enough spunk to take
whatever Ms Rankor can dish out. Just embrace it all."
With his arm reaching around my back, he gave my breast a little squeeze and
prodded the nipple. "Please Mick, not here," I whispered, squirming, hands
still on head.
"All right. Diana and Jenny, we're all set up for you. You may come over here
now," said Ms Rankor.
Dropping our hands to our sides, Diana and I approached the bars. I had no idea
what she had in mind for us, but I didn't have a good feeling about it. The
parallel bars had been lowered to their lowest setting, somewhat above crotch
height for me.
"Now each of you mount one of the metal bars. ...Yes, take a little ride on the
metal bar."
Moving between the wooden parallel bars, Diana got her leg over her metal bar,
and gingerly slid over it until she was straddling the bar. She was up on tip
toe. The bar was buried in her slit. She continued adjusting her position
trying to get more comfortable.
I looked at my bar. It was rough textured. Mick latter told me that these kind
of metal bars are used for reinforced concrete.
The major problem was that I am not as tall as Diana. While I could mount the
bar by steadying myself on the wooden parallel bars upon which each end of the
metal bar rested, once straddling it, my feet were not going to reach the floor,
even on tip toe. The bar would press into my slit with the full weight of my
body.
"It's too high," I said. There was no question in my mind. I was not mounting
that thing as it was now set up.
Ms Rankor looked at me. "Too high? Come now, Jenny. I've seen how agile you
are. You can easily mount that."
"You know my feet won't reach the floor. My entire weight will be on the bar.
That's not fair."
"Would it be more fair if I keep Diana on the bar twice as long, to make up for
the time you refuse to spend on it. Diana's going to get awfully tired trying
to support herself on tip toe."
I knew Ms Rankor had me. I was going to have to mount that thing, come what
may. Saying, "This isn't right," perhaps a bit self-righteously, I hitched my
leg over the metal bar, and with the help of the wooden parallel bars, managed
to get myself astraddle. Supporting myself with my arms, I gingerly let my slit
down onto the bar. I wondered how long I could support myself this way.
"Indeed," said Ms Rankor. "It isn't right. But I wanted to see if you would do
it anyway. ...Now Mick, why don't you roll up Jenny's clothes and shoes into a
couple of tight bundles and place one under each of her feet so that she can
support herself properly from the floor."
When Mick placed the small clothes bundles under my feet, I could just barely
transfer some weight to my feet, up on tip toe. But it felt really precarious.
I didn't want to let go of the wooden parallel bars.
"Now Diana and Jenny," said Ms Rankor, "you may now place your hands behind your
head, so that we may proceed with your punishment."
Oh god, this was going to be hard. Gradually I let the weight off my hands.
Although I was straining up on tip toe as high as I could, the bar was pressing
into my slit. Wincing with the pain, I wondered if I would get used to it, or
whether it would feel even worse as time went on.
"Now you may contemplate your position for a while. But don't worry, in due
time we will offer you ...um ...a little distraction."
So there we were, up on tip toe, with that rough metal bar pressing hard into
our slits ...which was bad enough, but why did this have to be done in front of
all these people?
The minutes ticked by sluggishly. It's hard to maintain yourself up on tip toe
indefinitely. But I'm in fairly good condition. It seemed like my legs should
be able to resist the force of gravity for a while. And after that? How was it
going to feel with that rough narrow bar pressing ever harder into my slit?
Time continued on, moment by tedious moment. How long would this go on? My
feet were beginning to quiver from the strain of staying on tip toe. The
quivering of my feet was exactly matched by the pulsing of the pressure of the
bar into my pussy.
Finally Ms Rankor spoke, "Girls, you are doing very well. I think we can offer
you a little distraction. ...Mick, I want you to take this ruler and slap
Jenny's breasts with it. Three good swats on each nipple."
Whacked on the breasts with an half-meter long ruler? Right on the bare
nipples? What kind of person would pick that as an appropriate place to spank a
girl?
Mick took up the ruler and eyed my breasts. He seemed uncertain. "Are you sure
this is really okay?"
Although he was addressing Ms Rankor, I answered, "God no, it's not okay. Not
on the nipples!"
"Jenny seems to have a problem with a loud mouth," replied Ms Rankor. "It seems
that she'd rather that I do it. Is that so, Jenny?"
"No! No, I rather have Mick do it. Go ahead, you can swat me with it, Mick.
Just do it." Hands behind head, I thrust my chest out toward him, waiting.
"I can't do this," Mick objected. "I won't do this." He eyed Ms Rankor coolly.
"Not here, like this."
What a prince! ...But what did he mean by 'not here, like this'? That he
wouldn't mind spanking my breasts in private?
Ms Rankor hesitated before replying, "Well then give me back my ruler and I'll
do it."
"I'm not doing that either," he replied, eyeing her boldly, defiantly, as he
folded his arms across his chest, gripping the ruler in his fist.
Ms Rankor frowned but did not return his gaze. Instead she fixed her
frustration on me. "Then forget about that ruler. Jenny, I'm taking my cane to
your fat little titties. When I get done, you're going to wish you had never
been born with nipples."
"Oh god, Mick. Just do what she says. I can't take a caning on the breasts.
The ruler's nothing. Please just spank me on the breasts with it." Urgently I
thrust my chest out to him. "Please!"
Hesitantly, he acquiesced. Touching the ruler to my right nipple, he gently
rubbed it back and forth. My nipple, already somewhat stiff, stiffened even
more. I closed my eyes. Then he gave me a firm tap with the ruler. As easy as
the stroke was, I still jumped. Then he gave me a second stroke, harder. And
then a third. I recoiled with each stroke.
Then he laid the ruler on my left nipple, and gave that one a firm tap. Then a
second, harder, and then a third, harder still. I opened my eyes, and breathed
freely, relieved that it was not as bad as I thought it would be. In fact, I'll
confess that the sensation was almost erotic.
Ms Rankor said, "Well Mick, I guess you can give as many warm-up taps as you
like. But eventually you're going to have to give her six good hard swats. Do
you want me to show you how it's done?"
"Oh, Mick, you know I'd rather you did it. Please just swat me hard!" Hands
still behind head, I again thrust out my breasts to the ruler.
"All right. I'll give you my best."
Smackkk! "Ow!" He paused, waiting for me to show my readiness for the next
stroke. ...Smackkk! "Oooooh!" ...Then again. Smackkk! "Ahhhhhh!" As the
ruler was lightweight softwood, it delivered a lot of sting, but not much thud.
I somehow managed to keep my hands behind my head, but I couldn't help jerking
and twisting.
Then he went after the other nipple. Smackkk! "Oooooh!" ...Smackkk! "Oh
god! My tits." ...Smackkk! "Ahhh!" Then suddenly, "Ooh!! Oh shit! Ow...
ow... ow!" As I had wrenched about, the bundle supporting my right foot had
rolled out from underneath, leaving my foot unsupported. My full weight
abruptly rammed my slit onto the bar. I quickly brought my hands down for
support.
"Oh... ow..." I moaned as Mick moved the bundle back under my foot. But I
continued supporting myself with my hands. My pussy was hurting too much to let
it back down onto the bar.
"Nice recovery, Jenny," said Ms Rankor. "Now Mick, you need to continue
swatting Jenny on the nipples until she brings her hands back behind her head."
Smackkk! ...Smackkk! ...Smackkk! This time there was little hesitation
before he lit into me. It seemed he was warming to his task. I cried out with
each stroke, but could not bring myself to let my weight back down on the bar.
Maybe it was better just to take a ruler spanking on the nipples. But how
strange to receive such a whipping from somebody you really like.
"Harder," said Ms Rankor. "You must get her to bring her hands behind her
head."
Smackkkkk! "Oooooh!" ...Smackkkkk! "Ahhhhhh!" He was swatting so hard.
My nipples were so on fire, I hardly noticed the bar press into my slit as I
brought one arm up to protect my breasts. "No more! Please no more."
He stopped hitting me. I slowly brought my hands back behind my head.
"Ah. Your pretty breasts. Why is it they seem to yearn for punishment?" He
gently stroked my breasts as he glanced toward Ms Rankor.
"Nicely done Mick. You should take it upon yourself to whip Jenny more often,"
said Ms Rankor.
I wondered if she knew that Mick and I had started going together. I had even
let him tie me up once, although that is as far as I had allowed him to take his
sadistic fantasies.
"Now you need to swat Diana's nipples," said Ms Rankor. "Six good hard ones."
Mick then positioned himself next to Diana and laid the ruler on one of her
nipples, in preparation. I hated the idea of him tending her bare breasts with
the ruler. I know it sounds crazy - even sick - but I'll be honest. I was
jealous. I didn't want him tending a naked Diana in that way, knowing how much
he was enjoying it.
Smackkk! "Ooh... ow!" ...Smackkk! "Ohhh! Please." ...Smackkk! "Ow! Not
on the tits!" I watched Diana's more ample breasts quaver with each stroke. I
wondered if mine had jiggled that much with each swat. Mick was clearly
aroused. I hated this. Crazy as it sounds, I felt that Diana was usurping
Mick's attention.
I am not an impulsive person, but this whole scene was of such dis-reality that
it seemed that my inhibitions were attenuated. Suddenly I reached over and
grabbed Mick, letting myself fall off the bar onto him. It caught him by such
surprise that he tumbled backwards onto the floor, with me on top of him.
I wrested myself into a sitting position, keeping him down by sitting across his
stomach. "Leave Diana's breasts alone," I stammered.
Recovering from the initial shock, Mick laughed, seeming delighted to have a
naked female on top of him astraddle, "Hey, whatever you say." His arms free,
he stroked my sides as I sat on him.
I tried not to think about how unglued Ms Rankor must be a this point. She
would almost certainly interpret my action as open rebellion against her
authority. I didn't look in her direction.
"Well Jenny, now your behavior has really gone off the deep end." She sounded
at lot more composed than I would have expected of her. "But how valiant of you
to want to protect Diana from Mick."
When she said that, I realized that my action, which was actually motivated by
one of the basest of emotions, jealousy, could be mistaken to have been
motivated by a noble desire to protect Diana from torment. I wondered if Ms
Rankor realized what my true motivation was. And I wondered what Diana and Mick
thought.
I couldn't tell whether Ms Rankor was being sarcastic when she continued,
"Jenny, I'm so impressed with your compassion for Diana that I am willing to
allow you to take the rest of Diana's punishment. Diana, you may get down off
the bar now."
Diana hesitated. "I don't want Jenny to take my punishment. I don't think she
deserved to be punished in the first place. It's my fault that we're here now,
not hers."
"Don't listen to Diana," I interrupted. "She's not to blame for what I just
did." As I spoke, words written by some Japanese monk silently flashed through
my mind: 'When others are wrong, I too am wrong. When I am wrong, I alone am to
blame.'
"Such devoted companions," said Ms Rankor. "What am I to do? But really,
Diana, I believe I will need you to get down off the bar to assist me with
Jenny."
Diana didn't continue to argue, but got down off the bar. She stood, gingerly
rubbing her pussy. Meanwhile I continued sitting across Mick's stomach, trying
to wrestle his tickling hands away from my breasts and armpits. I knew I was in
deep trouble with Ms Rankor, but I figured I might as well stay where I was
until she told me what she wanted me to do.
Addressing the other guys in the gym, Ms Rankor said, "Jenny is going to need to
be restrained to keep her on the bar. I want you to move the parallel bars over
under that basketball goal." She then pulled a bunch of rope out of her
carrying bag. Looking over at me she added, "Jenny, if you knew what was in
store for you, I don't think you'd be lightheartedly playing with Mick."
Maybe she would be merciful if she thought I had lost my grip on reality and
couldn't understand anything she said. Maybe I could pretend I had amnesia.
...Oh girl, get a grip. Better start acting repentant right now. Getting up
off Mick, I said, "I'm really sorry, Ms Rankor, I just sort of lost my head.
...Um ...I couldn't bear the thought of Mick whacking Diana.. ...Um
...Please understand."
I'm no good at deception. Since I felt guilty about why I wanted to keep Mick
away from a naked Diana, I don't think I came across very convincingly.
Ms Rankor just shook her head and said, "Come over here behind the basketball
goal. You'd be a lot better off just keeping quiet."
After I went over to the basketball goal, she had me hold my hands out in front
of me so that she could bind my wrists together. She wound the rope well up my
forearms. I didn't know what was coming next, but I felt less helpless having
my hands tied in front than tied behind.
A second rope was then tied to the rope between my wrists. When she tossed this
over the frame supporting the basketball backboard, I realized what was to come.
Handing the other end of the rope to some guys, she said, "Now pull on this til
you hoist her up."
The guys started to pull. I pulled back as hard as I could, trying to keep my
arms down against my chest. My fighting back definitely seemed to excite and
amuse them. They had no intention of letting me win a tug-a-war. Arms still
locked at my chest, they quickly pulled me off the floor. I knew I didn't have
the arm strength to hold myself up for long. But having now made a contest out
of this, I felt that I had to show my mettle.
The guys enthusiastically hoisted me all the way up to the metal frame
supporting the basketball backboard, but then at Ms Rankor's insistence they
lowered me part way down. It seemed pointless for me to continue straining to
clutch my arms against my chest. I was about to give it up when Ms Rankor
appeared before me wielding that long thin cane. With a nasty grin she started
swatting me on the midsection with it. Whoosh...thack! Whoosh...thack!
Whoosh...thaack!.
I can't describe how much that thing stings. I cried out with every stroke.
And I was horrified in realizing that if I gave up and let my body drop, arms
pulled over head, then she would be able to hit me on my unprotected breasts
with it. Would she be that cruel? It's bad enough used on the butt and now on
the midsection. But no one would use that on a girl's breasts, would they?
Whoosh...thaack! Whoosh...thaack! Whoosh...thaack! She continued swatting me
with it.
My arms were quivering. My breath came in gasps. It was no use. My body
dropped, arms pulled up over my head.
Ms Rankor, still grinning wickedly, placed the cane on my left nipple. "Shall
I?" she asked.
Was I going to beg? Would it serve any purpose? As she continued to tease my
nipple with the cane, I gave a single negative shake of my head, closed my eyes
and waited for that wicked sound of cane slicing air, followed by the scathing
agony of stiff rattan lashing tender flesh.
Moments past. She continued teasing my nipple with the cane. Finally,
answering her own question she said, "I think not. ...Boys, position the bar
under her. ...This way. ...Keep coming. ...There, that looks pretty good.
Now slowly let her down onto it."
The rough metal bar pressed into my slit. But still, although my feet could not
reach the floor, enough of my weight hung from my upraised arms that this was
tolerable. But I felt so vulnerable suspended that way. Anytime they felt like
it, they could let me down hard onto the bar. I looked at the guys holding the
rope. As much as they were enjoying their task, they did not seem to be
cavalier about it. It seemed that they were somewhat attentive to my welfare.
Ms Rankor then took out some dental floss. Whatever did she have in mind now?
She approached me, eyeing my nipples. This was ominous. Cutting off a
meter-long piece of the floss, she tied one end of it around the nub of my right
nipple. Then tightened it. I gasped loudly. The other end she tied around the
nub of my left nipple, and tightened. I gasped anew. It gripped so tight.
What kind of thing is this to do to a girl's nipples?
She tested the bond by giving the strand a sharp tug, yanking my nipples. I
winced, but tried to keep silent.
She then drew several meters of floss out of the container, and secured it to
the strand gripping my nipples. She then tossed the container, still attached
to the floss, over the basketball backboard support, caught it, and after
freeing the floss from the container, handed the far end to one of the guys
holding the rope.
Addressing him, she said, "Now pull on the floss. Pull her nipples up.
...Harder, pull them up good. ...That's fine."
"Oh! Ow! My nipples!" I was gasping, panting. How could such a small part of
my body put forth so much sensation?
"Now boys, slowly let her weight down on the bar ...Slowly. ...That's good."
As the bar pressed hard into my slit I pulled up as best I could with my arms.
I could pull some weight off, but not a lot. I know guys that can do like ten
pull-ups, maybe even more. I can't even do one. Most girls don't have that
kind of upper body strength. But since I was pretty sure I was going to be here
for a while, it would be futile to try to pull up harder than I could sustain.
When Ms Rankor had the guys secure the other end of the rope so that they no
longer needed to pull on it to keep me there, I knew I was in for the long haul.
The minutes ticked by so slowly. That bar was pressing really hard into my
slit. The floss was biting my nipples, yanking them up. The room was very
quiet despite the continually growing number of spectators. Occasionally I
would punctuate the silence with a ragged sigh.
For a good while I tried to distract my mind from the pain. Mentally trying to
be anywhere but where I actually was. But it didn't seem to work. It just made
me feel more and more desperate for this horrid woman to let me down off this
awful bar and release my nipples.
But what if I tried the opposite strategy? What if I focused all my attention
on the sensation of pain? Yes, I would turn and face the pain directly, not
trying to run away from it, not trying to be somewhere else. ...Not wanting to
be somewhere else. ...Not wanting, period. ...Just being where I was. Or
even more simply, just being. ...Is that the distillation of my existence,
just being?
It's strange... or maybe not so strange. As I fully entered into that pain, it
ceased to be pain. Pleasant or unpleasant were only labels that my thoughts
might attach to a sensation. They were not the sensation itself. The sensation
itself had nothing to do with thought.
Time had stopped. Silence was utter. I looked around the room. Everyone's
eyes were fixed on me. One by one I fixed on them, each of the students,
individually. Were they different from me? ...They were free. I was bound.
They had comfort. I had pain. They were clothed, shielded. I was naked,
revealed. They were secure. I was vulnerable. But were they really separate
from me? Did my mind not encompass them all?
But what about Ms Rankor, that hateful woman. I could not bring myself to look
at her. Her image was too horrid.
But why shouldn't I look her in the eye? Why shouldn't I look evil hated right
in the eye and see it for what it was? ...I directed my gaze at Ms Rankor.
She was gazing back at me. ...But what did I see in her countenance? It was
not hatred. ...I continued to look. ...What I saw in her eyes was
admiration. Where was the hatred? Was the imagined ill will merely the
reflection of my own mind? The hatred was in me, not her?
I contemplated my paradox. She had seemed the villainous oppressor, and I the
virtuous oppressed. Yet the poison abiding within my own mind had rendered me
the morally inferior...
Ms Rankor's voice broke into my consciousness. "Pull her up a bit so that she's
only just touching the bar."
As they pulled my weight off the bar, I relaxed my arms and just hung limp. Ms
Rankor then untied the floss from my nipples. Although I gasped as sensation
surged back into them, it was such a relief to have my nipples free. I breathed
deeply. Was my torment finally at an end?
Taking hold of my hips, Ms Rankor then slowly drew me back, then forward,
scraping my most sensitive areas over the rough surface of the bar. The
intensity of sensation of the bar rubbing on my inner lips and clit was
overwhelming. "Ohhhhh! Oooooh! Oh god!"
"I guess riding the bar hasn't made you numb to sensation. ...Boys, pull her
all the way up and move the bars out of the way. Jenny's taken this all so
admirably. It's time we complete her experience."
After pulling me up, they pushed the parallel bar apparatus away. Ms Rankor
then had them let me down until my toes could just touch the floor. Was she
finally going to release me? But my heart sank as I saw her take up her paddle.
"Don't worry, Jenny. Just a few more strokes."
"Oh Ms Rankor," pleaded Diana. "Please don't punish Jenny any more. She
doesn't deserve this."
Ms Rankor shook her head. "Neither of you girls understand my intentions. But
perhaps that will come with time. Then maybe you will see this in an entirely
different light. ...Now Jenny, let's see if we can mix a little pleasure into
your experience. ...Diana, I want you to kneel before Jenny and tongue her
clit." Seeing Diana's expression of distaste, she continued, "Of course, you
don't have to tongue her if you would rather have me swat her on the sex with
the paddle ...or maybe with the cane."
I looked at Diana. I certainly was not going to ask her to tongue me, but I
really didn't want Ms Rankor to swat me on the pussy with that narrow paddle,
and especially not with the cane. Diana looked at me. I knew she wouldn't
choose to let Ms Rankor swat me. I felt bad that she had to do this for my
sake, but I took a little comfort in the thought that I had just taken a shower
after gym class.
Diana then knelt in front of me. Ms Rankor had Mick hold my right thigh out as
Diana brought her face hesitantly to my muff. Her tongue caressed my outer
lips, then my inner lips and my clit. ...Oh my ...ooh! Yes! Oh yes! Never
before had I felt anything quite like this.
"Now Mick," said Ms Rankor, "I want you to start swatting Jenny on the nipples
with the ruler, just firmly enough.
Mick gave me a quick grin, murmuring, "You are the ultimate. And now we get to
take you where you want to go."
And then ...Smack! ...Smack! ...Smack! Over and over, a few on one
nipple, then a few on the other nipple, then back again. I gasped and twisted
with each stroke. And yet the sensation was undisputably arousing. Hanging
there, the combination of Diana tonguing my clit and Mick swatting my nipples
was stimulating beyond description.
Briefly glancing around at the crowd before me, I saw guys with hands inside
their pants, pumping away. Grunting bullishly. The intensity of my arousal
swelled. I wasn't going to have to cum off right in front of all these people,
was I?
Whack! "Ooooh!" Ms Rankor lit into me on the butt with that black paddle.
...Whack! "Ahhhhh!" ...Whack! "Ahhhhh!" One stroke after another. With
each stroke I cried out.
Stimulation beyond measure. Smack! Ruler to the nipples. Whack! Paddle to
the butt. ...Smack! Whack! "Oooooh!" ...Smack! Whack! "Ahhhhhh!" And
all the while that tongue, never letting up on my clit.
My arousal was surging wildly. It would not be contained. I hung by my wrists,
helpless, Ms Rankor flailing my butt, Mick spanking my nipples, Diana tonguing
my clit. Four people. One mind. No separation. Absolute unity. ...Climax!
The infrared glow of my womanhood flared to ultraviolet radiance. Its
incandescent brilliance enveloped us all. ...Igniting everything. ...Consuming
all.
