Rectory of Correction (20 page)

The fluttering in her belly grew worse by the second as she waited. She had to force herself to take regular breaths. Don't be so stupid, Amelia, she told herself crossly. How bad can it be? A little smack, a little sting. It will soon be over. After all, she'd had enough corporal punishment over these long weeks. She should be getting used to it by now.

Perhaps that was the problem. The more she was thrashed, the more she found it hard to stand and wait for it to start. Every cane stroke, every kiss of birch or leather, seemed to have burned itself on to her memory, making her anticipate, all too vividly, how tender her bottom was and how much the next punishment was going to hurt.

The beast was making it worse by not getting on with it, she thought, willing her tutor to get the demonstration over with. Clearly, however, the Reverend was in no hurry.

‘Six such lovely bottoms, Reverend,' Mr Ziri said with relish. ‘These shorts display them very nicely. I don't suppose they give much protection.'

‘Thin cotton, Mr Ziri, but even that can save a sight more skin than these minxes deserve. We might have to take them down for some slippering on the bare before we are through, do you not agree?'

‘Indeed,' the other man said, a good deal more eagerly than Amelia would have liked. ‘Unfortunately, it often proves necessary to put such pretty young ladies across one's knee!'

The two men laughed heartily at this. Amelia felt the blood rush to her face as she strained to hold her position. It was becoming difficult to keep her legs straight, and her back was also beginning to feel the strain. However, she knew the penalties for poor posture well enough, and she resolved to keep her position perfect as she waited for the inevitable paddle spank.

Somebody was for it. She could tell from the way the men were talking that they were eager to administer salutary slipperings. By the time they left the gymnasium someone's bottom would be very sore. But still, it did not necessarily have to be hers that really got it. If she concentrated every fibre of her being on keeping her position well, and then on doing the exercises flawlessly, it might be someone else's cheeks that were made to pay.

‘Kirsty has a lovely seat. She fills her shorts very well, do you not agree?'

Kirsty was at the opposite end of the line of bending girls from Amelia. She had hoped he would start with her and get it over with, but she tried to tell herself she would not have to wait much longer.

‘Indeed, Reverend, a most lovely bottom. Plump and firm as anyone might wish.'

‘Nicely padded, certainly. Eh, Kirsty?'

‘Yes, sir.'

Crack
! The sound was explosive, echoing about the gym.

‘I don't suppose you felt that much at all, eh, girl?'

‘Ooh, ah, actually sir, yes... I rather did.'

‘I'll give you another anyway, for luck,' the Reverend said languidly. ‘If that is all right with you, of course, my dear.'

‘Yes, thank you, sir.' Even the irrepressible Kirsty, Amelia noticed glumly, was sounding strained and hoarse.

There was another crack and an anguished hiss of pain.

The Reverend chuckled, and there was the sound of a gentler pat. ‘There now,' he said, ‘I suspect she felt that, even through her shorts.'

‘Oooh... ah... yes, sir. Thank you, sir,' Kirsty said.

‘Now this is an altogether more delicate proposition. Not such generous proportions, eh, Linnet?'

The girl in question could only manage a panicked whimper in reply.

‘Don't whinny, girl,' the Reverend said sharply. ‘You are not a horse.'

‘S-sorry, sir,' a frightened voice said softly.

‘Yet you will notice, Mr Ziri, there is a certain chubbiness to this bottom. For all that she is a slender slip, there is some flesh to mortify!'

The Reverend had clearly illustrated his point for another sickening crack echoed around the hall. Linnet was not Kirsty, however, and she yelped with pain.

‘Be quiet you silly girl, and get back into position. Push that bottom up and out. Do it, or I promise it will be the worse for you!'

There was a second crack and another yelp. Amelia swallowed hard and closed her eyes.

‘Now this is beautiful Bella. Lovely long legs, excellent thighs, a fine and meaty bottom.'

A girlish gurgle suggested to Amelia that the Reverend was illustrating his remarks with a demonstrative hand.

‘She looks fit and strong. I might do something with this girl,' Mr Ziri said.

‘Oh,' the Reverend replied, ‘I think we could all do something with a bottom like this!'

The sound of the bat smacking resilient flesh rang out again. Arabella managed to limit her response to a grunt. There was another crack and an agonised sigh.

‘Not bad, Arabella, you are learning.'

‘Uh, ah, thank you, sir,' the object of his approbation managed to gasp.

‘Lady Charlotte has a most aristocratic seat.'

Amelia could hear the Reverend's hand patting the bottom in question and could imagine the proud girl's humiliation all too well.

‘Yet she does not always set the example one might expect.'

The expected crack came, followed by a startled shriek.

‘See what I mean?' There was displeasure in Dawes' voice. ‘Get back into position this instant, miss! I mean to smack that impertinent rump again.'

Amelia's stomach was knotting itself into tangles now. It was not that she felt particularly sympathetic, more that the panicked sounds she was hearing seemed to bode ill for her own impending appointment with pain.

There was a series of gentler slaps and a few male oaths and threats. Finally the paddle struck again. This time Charlotte fairly shrieked. The strain of listening to the approaching punishment was lessening Amelia's resolve to take her own turn well. Slowly but surely, the sounds that echoed around the gym were corroding her courage away.

‘Your poor deportment will be dealt with later, Charlotte. Be in no doubt about it. I am only passing on because otherwise we shall all be here all day.'

‘Ha!' Mr Ziri said. ‘That is a big one! She looks about to burst out of her shorts!'

There was a crack that sounded like hand on bottom, rather than paddle. Gretchen gave a fearful gasp.

‘Gretchen is a very hard case. It is as well that there is plenty of flesh to punish here.' Another slap rang out and Gretchen yelped again. ‘For she requires a great deal of correction. Do you not, my girl?'

‘Y-yes, sir,' Gretchen replied in a hoarse whisper.

‘Indeed,' the Reverend said solemnly. ‘Fortunately I have both the will,' there was another explosive crack, the loudest yet, ‘and the means!'

Gretchen made a strange strangulated sound, not unlike the creaking of a rusty gate.

‘Back into position, you fat trollop!'

There was another loud retort, followed by another howl of pain.

‘A disgusting exhibition, Gretchen. You will be dealt with shortly. And I do mean dealt with. I would not anticipate a particularly pleasant experience, were I you.'

Amelia was glad that she had the wall bar to grab, otherwise her trembling would have been quite uncontrollable.

‘Now that is a beautiful bottom, Reverend.'

Amelia found she was too frightened by the paddle for their words to matter quite as much as they should have done. The humiliation of having her bottom discussed by these lowborn men was intense, yet still her fear was greater.

‘Indeed, Mr Ziri, Amelia has a lovely figure altogether and her bottom is frankly hard to beat...' The men laughed at the unintentional pun. ‘No, I mean hard to match, of course.'

Amelia felt his hand on her bottom cheeks, patting the cotton-clad flesh gently.

‘It is no hardship to beat such plump, resilient perfection. The girl juts out heroically, in fact, both at the front and at the back.'

Something told Amelia that the pleasantries were over. The hand had left her bottom and there was a pause in the men's chat. Her whole body had tensed, unbidden. An automatic flinching of her flanks was the only movement she made as she waited in tense silence for long seconds.

Crack
!

Amelia's world was pain. It was worse, far worse, than she had anticipated, like white fire spreading across her cheeks.

‘Keep that bottom up, Amelia.' There was warning in his voice rather than anger.

Amelia shook her head and tried to think through the waves of pain. She pressed her bottom up and out, though that was the last thing she wanted to do. Just one more and it will be over, she told herself. Somehow she managed to hold her position until the second scalding smack came cracking down.

She heard a girl howling somewhere, the voice sounding nothing like her own. She gasped, shaking vigorously, until the high tide of agony began to ebb away.

She had done it! Still wincing, she felt relief flood through her. She had taken her two cracks and had not got into trouble like Charlotte and Linnet. That had to improve her chances of avoiding the slipper. Almost exulting, despite the fact her bottom still burned, Amelia awaited the order to straighten up.

‘Now, girls, you know what to avoid during the exercise,' the Reverend said. ‘No, Gretchen, Amelia, do not straighten up just yet.' There was a pause. ‘Mr Ziri, perhaps you would like to give each of those cheeky bottoms a couple of pats, too. Just so they know exactly what they should expect.'

 

 

 

Amelia's breath was getting ragged and she was starting to perspire freely. With a grunt of relief she grabbed the rope that rang the bell to mark her first completed circuit. As usual, the athletic Bella, closely followed by Kirsty, had beaten her to it. At least, she thought as she set off around the gymnasium again, the others were behind her. The sound of pelota paddle impacting on shorts seat echoed around the hall. Amelia did not dare to pause and look around to see who had caught it. Instead, she took a deep breath and began her second circuit with the bar.

This should have been easy. It was easy, really. All one had to do was to walk ten feet along the narrow bar that linked the feet of an upturned mahogany bench, two feet above the gymnasium floor.

‘A simple balance test to begin gently,' the Reverend had told his wide-eyed charges before they set off.

The only problem was the presence of Mr Ziri. He stood, paddle in hand, between the bar and the vaulting horse. Amelia had to put her hands on her head, trying to ignore the way this made her breasts press out even more embarrassingly against her singlet, and the way Mr Ziri's eyes lingered on her prominent nipples. Then she had to stop her legs from trembling as she walked along the narrow wooden bar.

It had been hard the first time around. It seemed as if the paddle was itching in Mr Ziri's hand, and her buttocks were still smarting from the whacks he had given her a few moments earlier. Somehow she managed not to do as Gretchen had, which was to flinch away as she passed him and lose her balance. Gretchen had been made to bend and grasp the bar whilst two more whistling smacks had been administered with the pitiless wooden paddle. Without being given time to wipe the tears of pain from her cheeks, she had been made to start from the beginning again.

Amelia had been luckier the first time, but now the strain of the circuit was telling on her legs. Her thigh muscles were trembling as she mounted the bar for the second time. She made the mistake of looking at the waiting instructor. To her horror Mr Ziri smiled back and winked.

Somehow Amelia forced herself to concentrate. She locked her fingers behind her neck in the prescribed manner, and started to walk down the wooden edge. The first few feet went well enough, then an explosive cracking sound and a squeal of pain, off to her left, made her flinch and she swayed precariously. Her stomach turned a somersault in response to her teetering, but somehow she managed to steady herself. Amelia swallowed hard. She was almost in range of Mr Ziri's paddle now, even if he did not move a step.

‘Come on, girl, get a move on.' He slapped the bat against his hand menacingly. There was nothing for it. She took a faltering step.

She found it almost impossible not to cringe from his malevolent presence. Her whole body seemed to want to lean out away from the bat in his hand. This made it very hard to balance, and as she passed him she felt her foot miss its step.

The tears were in her eyes even before his gruff order to bend over. Amelia grasped the bar, forcing her legs straight, and waited. At least this time she did not have to suffer the eternal anticipation she had at the wall bars.

There was an explosive crack and pain ripped through her. The beast had got the same spot he had before. Only her grip on the bar prevented her from straightening and grabbing desperately at her abused flesh. It felt as though she was wrestling the thing in her struggle to stay obediently bent. The second stroke seared her other buttock. Amelia closed her eyes and hissed like a steam whistle. It felt as if her bottom had been skinned.