The Visit

A story I wrote for my 360 friend Yolanda Carrington. It is fiction, I never got to meet her, but she helped me with some of the information. This story was my first commission.

Saturday, May 19th, 2007
London

(Written for Yolanda and Laura.)

Preview

“I’m sure I want to do this, she seems nice enough online.” Kirsten was sitting on the train on her way into London and to the first time meeting with her online correspondent Yolanda. The women had been posting on Yahoo 360 for four months and had arranged to meet up at Yolanda’s flat to get to know each other better and to play out some of their common stories. Kirsten was looking forward to the meeting, and all that the afternoon might entail, but she was still conscious of the uncertainty gnawing in her stomach.

“I told her our fantasies are me being spanked by someone else and you spanking me and someone else.” Yolanda was rather excited at the prospect of seeing these desires met, and was reminding Laura of why she and Kirsten had agreed to meet up in the first place. “Kirsten’s a school teacher, from Australia, and told me she is bringing a scenario she had been working on for a story she’s writing. She also said she wanted to try out some things she’s not done before, especially the leather paddle. I said we like schoolies, and office scenarios.” Yolanda had been spanked by only five other women before (and one man) and was looking forward to being asked to “bend over” by a new female voice, and whilst Laura had not played a major part in the correspondence she had readily agreed to meet Kirsten.

Arrival

The doorbell rang, the friends met with hugs and kisses, and all moved into the front room. Laura was dressed rather formally in a skirt suit, as Kirsten had instructed, and Yolanda in a school uniform. Following cups of tea and some ice-breaking conversation about preferences and postures, (Yolly and Kirsten had similar tastes, although Kirsten had never been spanked with a leather paddle and her preferred implement was her wooden hairbrush, something Yolly had confessed to not enjoying), Laura suggested getting underway.

“What is it about the leather paddle that interests you Kirsten?”

“It’s just that I’ve never received it before. The man that shares my house with me and my friend Catherine, Paul, sometimes whips me with the strap when I have been naughty, but the paddle is new.”

“And you’d like to try it out?”

“Yes please.” Kirsten could feel the knot in her guts rising again, excitement and apprehension all at once. She looked down at her shoes. All of the spanking this afternoon was to have been “fun”, and Yolanda had suggested that Laura’s fun spankings had never caused her to cry, but Yolanda had also said that she could take quite a long spanking, “my bum turns deep pink rather than red or crimson”, and Kirsten knew that she was not so resilient. Kirsten looked back up to see that Laura had the paddle in her hand and was beckoning her towards her. Yolanda had stood up and was standing beside the easy chair she had just been sitting in.

“Let’s show you how it’s done first, and then you can have a turn.” She nodded at Yolanda, who turned and bent over the arm of the chair. Laura came into position and began the demonstration.

Kirsten was pleased to see that whilst Yolanda was wincing, and moaned quietly as each smack landed upon her bottom, the paddling didn’t seem to be terribly painful, even after Laura had paused briefly to ask Yolanda to raise her skirt. Not that she was counting, but there must have been about fifteen smacks to each of Yolly’s skirt, and then panties.

“Would you like a turn now?” Laura was holding the paddle out to Kirsten. Kirsten wasn’t entirely certain whether she was supposed to take the paddle to spank Yolanda herself, or to “assume the position”, but as she walked across to the easy chair Laura deftly turned the paddle in her hand, presenting Kirsten with the handle. “Is this okay?” Laura seemed to be asking Yolanda.

“Yes, of course,” replied Yolanda, still bending over the arm of the chair.

“Now Kirsten, I’m sure you know how a paddle works,” smiled Laura, stepping back.

Yolanda was wearing a rather pretty pair of French knickers below her school uniform, which covered the entire area of her punishment. Kirsten would like to have seen the damage to Yolanda’s bottom before continuing, but that wasn’t possible. She delivered six firm smacks to the silken hemisphere in front of her, the fourth one eliciting a small “ow!” from Yolanda.

“Would you like a turn now?” The same question Laura had asked earlier, but this time there was no doubt as to what she was offering to Kirsten. She stood back to allow Yolanda to stand up, and was about to take her position across the arm of the chair when Laura suggested the back of the sofa as a better position. “It’s a little higher up, so affords a better angle for contact.” Yolanda nodded in agreement so Kirsten took up her position there. “Ready?”

The first smack was much as Kirsten should have known it was, central to her bottom, firm but not harsh, familiar (she’s been on the receiving end of several table tennis bats in the past) yet different as well. The smacks that followed forced “ouch” from Kirsten on several occasions, but were not unpleasant. Still, she could feel a tear welling in her eye, but whether that was from pain (unlikely) or from the excitement of finally being here with Yolly and Laura she wasn’t certain.

Laura asked Kirsten whether she would be willing to raise her skirt. Kirsten readily agreed, but had to stand up to do so. “You’re wearing tights?” Laura commented.

“I usually do,” Kirsten explained. “I like to be wearing tights, what with the idea that what is on display is attached to that area of private pleasure; my tights, which can be seen by the public connecting my skirt and shoes, also come up to cover my bottom”.

“And the cotton pants?”

“I don’t wear thongs, and don’t like frilly underwear under my tights.”

“Fine with me. Bend over young lady.”

Kirsten smiled; her favourite phrase as published on her 360 page: Laura had done some homework too. She bent over the back of the sofa and her spanking resumed. Whether the removal of the layer of skirt really made that much difference, or whether Laura was smacking harder, Kirsten noticed that she was beginning to hurt now, although she tried to keep that fact from the other two by biting her lip. The tears began rolling down her cheeks, (but then that was not unusual for Kirsten), and the moaning became a quiet sob. She knew she was having fun, but it was still painful.

Student Teacher

“So, Kirsten, why ‘Curtseygirl’ as a nickname?”

“Well, Laura, it is kind of cute don’t you think, but basically it’s because my name is Kirsten and it just sounds similar. When my family first took me to Australia, from New Zealand, I was six years old, and the way I was pronouncing “Kirsty” at school didn’t sound like the way the other children spoke. And I like the idea of the curtsey as a feminine form of respect since it can’t really be done effectively in trousers.”

“That makes sense,” Yolanda was sitting in the same chair she’d been spanked across, nursing another cup of tea.

Kirsten smiled back, “I used to be a bit militant about it, ‘You can’t make me bow or break: I curtsey and bend because I want to,’ but now I’m a bit more grown up.”

“And this scenario you have for us?”

“Student teacher. I have always been fascinated as a teacher with the idea of adult students. I remember seeing a sketch on TV in Australia, Benny Hill or something like that, I don’t know what. It was based in a ‘teaching hospital’, and a chief doctor was going around the wards caning the old men patients who weren’t getting better quick enough. I went up to my room and wrote a story where it was the nurses who were caned, bending over their patients’ beds if the patient’s condition wasn’t improving. It was the first story I wrote, I was about sixteen, and the first one I acted out with some friends in my first student flat. I was about twenty then, and of course I was a nurse. One of the girls in the next flat was a student nurse, so we were able to wear the real uniforms, (and not some Anne Summers latex mock up), and we used a green cane from the local garden centre; the sort you use to hold up tomatoes.”

“And cane wayward nurses,” laughed Yolanda.

“When necessary. It got me to thinking though that in such a situation the girls who get spanked are punished for something that isn’t necessarily their fault: and that a situation where a student teacher might be punished for the unruliness of her class might be a fun idea.”

The story

Laura: in the role of head teacher at a mixed comprehensive secondary school.
Yolly: as a sixth form pupil at the school
Miss Ellison (Kirsten): as a pre-service teacher at the school on her final practice placement before qualification.

“Yolanda, are you responsible for this?” Miss Ellison had had enough of 6C and was looking forward to the bell. She was not entirely certain that teaching Australian History as a unit for these sixth formers was such a good idea, but the University had disagreed and now here she was.

“Yeah, but this is boring Miss, how come we have to learn about convicts and natives, it’s all rubbish. It’s not like I’m going to smelly Australia anyway, if I want a suntan I’ll go to Ibiza.” 6C were also sick of Miss Ellison, and Yolanda in particular. She had initially welcomed the young teacher and was quite looking forward to being let off from the rigours of the Tudor Monarchs which the crusty old Mr Bates had been teaching, but then Miss Ellison had got all stressed, and that had made her cranky.

“I’ll give you another sort of tan in a minute!” Kirsten was getting frustrated now. “You know that as a VC school we are still allowed to use corporal punishment here, even though it has been banned in government schools.” It was an idle threat, Miss Ellison was actually opposed to physical punishment of children, but that Yolanda was really rather nasty and she had almost certainly been the one responsible for snapping the stick on the New South Wales state flag that had been sitting on the front desk.

“You and what army? The Rum Corps I suppose? A bit of British military discipline? 500 lashes of the cat-of-nine-tails tied to the triangle outside Macquarie Barracks?” Yolanda smirked around the class, gaining the required assents of grunts from the boys and smirks from the girls.

Kirsten smiled. “At least I know you’ve been paying attention to the subject matter.”

“Yeah, it’s okay. Kids like us being sent to the other side of the world for doing nothin’, just nicking an apple and stuff. But you’re drillin’!”

“And the flag?”

“What? Oh yes, YES IT WAS ME OKAY. What are you gonna do about it Miss, spank me?”

“Exactly. Come here.”

“You can’t!”

“What did you just call me? I’LL NOT BE SPOKEN TO LIKE THAT.”

“No Miss, I said ‘you can’t’, as in, ‘you can’t spank me’. I’m eighteen years old, and besides there’s boys here.”

“You’re a pupil in this school, a student in my class, and the rules say I can do what I need to to maintain order. Come here now.” Amazingly, Yolanda did as she was told, Kirsten wondered whether she’d been baited into doing this all along. She was not adverse to a bit of “fun spanking” herself, when she was home, in fact she’d been across her housemate Catherine’s knee just the previous night for not putting away all the washing up. Nineteen smacks with the wooden spoon: six to each of skirt and tights, and seven to her bare bottom. The last seven had been meant as chastisement and their memory was still fresh. Perhaps Yolanda was looking for a spanking. “Do you know why you’re here?”

“Yeah, you gonna cane me.” There was a glint in Yolanda’s eyes, Kirsten was sure she’d been set-up.

“Girls aren’t caned at this school. Girls are spanked. Bend over my knee young lady!” Miss Ellison decided that if Yolanda was looking for a smacked bottom she’d find one. The glint was still there as Yolanda gracefully placed herself across her teacher’s lap. Kirsten paused to look down at the upturned skirt before her, and the black nylon legs poking out beneath: she was really going to do it, really spank one of the girls in her class. She was going to spank Yolanda, and Yolanda wanted her to do it.

The first spank came as a surprise to Yolanda, she hadn’t expected it to hurt as much. What she did not know was that Miss Ellison wasn't using her hand to spank her, but was using the decorative wooden boomerang that she’d been showing to 4B in the previous lesson. Its odd shape made for quite an effective handle and paddle. Again and again it came down, Yolanda began to cry out. Was she enjoying it? She wasn’t sure, she certainly had been setting Miss Ellison up to do this to her, but was it worth the embarrassment of having the boys watch her gets her bottom smacked like a little girl? Yolanda hoped that it was.

“Return to your seat. Actually, go to the toilets and wash your face first.” Kirsten was exhausted, not by the physical effort of spanking Yolanda but by the thought that she’d actually had the courage to do it. To put the girl over her knee and smack her bottom, and to smack it quite hard, quite a few times, with a wooden stick.

Yolanda stood up a little shakily and went out to the toilets, to wash her face and to survey the damage. She had to stand on the bench to get the right angle for the mirror, but having pulled her skirt down (it was too tight to pull up) and pulling down her tights and knickers she was both chagrined and pleased to see a soft pink glow spreading across her “seat of learning.” “Oh yes,” she said to herself, “we’ll be doing this again.”

“Kirsten, it seems as though your practical teaching round is going quite well, but you are having trouble with one of the sixth form groups?” Laura had been head teacher of the school for six months now, Miss Ellison was the first pre-service teacher she had had to work with. “I believe you spanked Yolanda C today?”

“Yes Laura. I had good cause to. No I am quite pleased with the way things have been going, but I do struggle with Yolanda and her group.”

“Many teachers do. Still, I am pleased you did not shy away from corporal correction, let’s hope it was effective. It does however raise an issue: I believe you waited too long.”

“Too long?”

“You should have spanked her, and I dare suggest Melissa and Deborah, much earlier. The class is at the brink of anarchy and I am calling you to account. I’m afraid I must ask you to…” (Am I really going to do this? thought Laura. Yes, it’s what’s required by the governors, and it will be of help to Kirsten later.) “I must ask you to bend over my desk.”

“Excuse me?” Kirsten was stunned. “Are you suggesting you’re going to cane me because the students in my class are rowdy?”

“You know very well we don’t cane girls at this school. In fact the regulation doesn’t specify “girl” it specifies “female student”, and since you are a female student, albeit a university student in her twenties, you are still under my duty of care. You will be spanked, but I can hardly put you over my knee can I, so I want you to bend over the desk.” Laura had stood up and walked across to the desk as she had been speaking, and Kirsten saw for the first time the space that had been cleared of stationery on the front of the long wooden desk. Laura had the paddle in her hand, a flat wooden object with air holes cut in it which was used to punish the boys under thirteen and the girls older than thirteen. (Older boys were caned, younger girls hand-spanked.)

Kirsten considered arguing her case, she was twenty-three years old after all and far to old to be having her bottom smacked by the headmistress, (that hadn’t happened since she was fourteen). But she could see that Laura was not to be deferred from her position. “Of course.”

“Right, let’s have that skirt up then. It’s always “on the underwear” when a student comes in here for punishment, let’s not make it any different for you. “Trousers down young man, skirt up young lady, fair is fair.” An odd mix of reluctance and excitement rose in Kirsten’s stomach as she lifted the back of her skirt and bent over the desk. “Good girl, or at least you will be when I have finished with you.”

There were twelve spanks in all, each of them very much a discipline spanking, and by the end of it Kirsten was sobbing loudly. She had cried out with the first two, and final four hard smacks.

“Right, since you are a teacher I think we should make your punishment a little more severe than that given to the girls. I want you to pull down your tights and knickers for me.” Kirsten was lost in her tears and embarrassment and complied without question or comment, sobbing loudly she pulled down her tights to just above her knees and her knickers to mid thigh; their usual places when spanking at home went to “bare bottom phase”. She bent over the desk again, resting her weight on her forearms. It was a full ten seconds before the first stroke fell. The cane.

Laura had been uncertain about using the “boy” instrument, but thought that as Kirsten was a teacher there should be an ultimate sanction. What better than six of the best across a bare, just-spanked bottom? Kirsten cried out in shock, but apart from writhing sideways somewhat she did not lift from the desk. She had never been caned before and was amazed at the stinging it produced. Eight further strokes were applied, the final two cutting across the seven parallel tramlines that were forming welts on Kirsten’s pink bottom. “Thank you Miss Ellison, you may leave now and I shall expect better of 6C come Monday.” Kirsten stood and gingerly replaced her underwear and skirt. “Of course Ma’am,” replied Kirsten, “thank you Laura for taking such a keen interest in my progress.”