Chapter 29

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Another erotic story from the FLOGMASTER!

Copyright 1995-2009 by the Flogmaster. All Rights Reserved. Free distribution via electronic medium (i.e. the internet or electronic BBS) is permitted as long as the text is _not_ modified and this copyright is included, but _no_ other form of publication is allowed without written permission. This document _may_ contain explicit material of an ADULT nature. ***READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!*** Anything offensive is your own problem. This story is for **entertainment** purposes only, and it does _not_ necessarily represent the viewpoint of the author or the electronic source where this was obtained. All characters are *fictional* -- any resemblance to real people is purely coincidental.

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Erin's Adventures
Chapter 29
Miss Arler Again

(****, f/f, F/f, Severe, Teen birching)

Erin is caught with switch in hand. (Approximately 2,869 words. Originally published 1998-02.)

Early in the spring of that year, my last year of school, I had an experience that changed me forever. I had changed a great deal in the last couple of years, going from a mischievous, naughty brat to a stern and serious student. My sense of humor had almost completely vanished, buried beneath my new guise as prefect and favorite of the headmistress. I had few friends, and I knew many girls actively disliked me. I was no fun, they said, and I had changed. Deep inside I knew what they said was true--I felt it myself--but I refused to acknowledge their remarks and pretended, even to myself, that everything was fine.

But inside I was wreck. I did not particularly like myself any more. I wished the other girls liked me better, and I longed for the old days, when Ariana would take me down to the boiler room and put everything into the right perspective again.

One day Jessie and I look a long walk through the countryside. We had nearly the entire day to ourselves--a reward for getting our studies done and good behavior. Jessie carried a little knapsack of sandwiches and cold bottles of gingerbeer and we picnicked on our own, way off in the woods and fields that surrounded St. Esther. After our meal, all the more delicious for being out-of-doors and after the effort of a long hike, I brought up the question of Jessie's behavior during the previous week.

"Jessie, I want you to answer me honestly: have you been a good girl this week?"

Jessie's dark eyes went wide with alarm. She licked her lips nervously, and I could almost feel the intense beating of her heart. She looked at me straight on and I knew she could not lie to me. Her head dropped and she shook her head slowly. "N-not a perfect girl, mistress," she whispered. This was secret title for me, used only when we were alone. In public she addressed me as prefect.

"What did you do wrong?" I asked.

Her face was dark and her eyes were nervous. She looked very beautiful, like a puzzled kitten: curious and wanting to be happy, but uncertain as to what was coming next.

"You-you had to discipline me several times this week," said Jessie carefully. "I'm sorry I was such trouble."

"And?"

"And my English marks were low this week. I did not take time to rewrite my essay as you told me I should."

I nodded, pleased with confession. Jessie continued. "My maths are usually weak, but this week they were terrible. I asked Sandy Dennis for help and she agreed, but only if I take three slipperings for her."

"That's fair," I said. Trading slipperings was a fairly common practice at St. Esther's--few girls had much pocket money and slipperings were frequent enough to make the trade practical. Trades only worked on slipperings from prefects, of course--teachers wouldn't have allowed the substitution. "I'm pleased you were seeking help on your own initiative, but what's wrong with that?"

Jessie bowed her head. "Nothing, mistress. Except I did not follow through on my promise. Sandy was caught fighting with Eleanor and both girls are to receive two dozen whacks on each cheek every night for a week starting last night. Sandy knew that, and that's why she wanted to trade. When I found out what kind of a slippering I would be required to take I didn't show up last night."

"So you reneged on a promise."

"Not exactly. I figured she's getting plenty more, and since I was still sore yesterday from the caning you gave me on Thursday, I figured I could wait a day or so."

"So you reneged on a promise."

Jessie's face went crimson and her mouth opened in protest. "No! Like I said, since Sandy's getting it every night what difference does it make which three I take for her?"

"Did you explain this to Sandy?"

Jessie's head dropped again. "No, mistress."

"So you just decided on your own."

"Yes, mistress."

"Very well. Anything else you've done this week?"

Jessie thought for a moment and then shook her head. "I don't think so, mistress."

I glared at Jessie. "About fifty yards behind you is a small grove of birch trees. I want you to go and fetch me two dozen switches."

The pretty teenage girl in front of me opened her mouth for a second, and then snapped it shut. Her face was pale and her eyes frightened, but she stood obediently to her feet and nodded to me. Then she ran to the birch trees and began tearing off thin branches.

I watched her, amused. This was a new experience for her, and I meant for it to be one she'd remember for a long time. Jessie was very nervous as she gathered the branches, and once I saw her quickly wipe her eye with her sleeve and suspected she was crying a little. She knew I was angry with her, and she knew that our little walk today was little more than an excuse to get away from the school so I could discipline her in private. But now that it had begun, I knew she was having second thoughts. It was one thing to talk about discipline, but quite another to actually receive it.

Jessie came back to me a subdued and trembling girl. Her eyes glistened like glowing embers as she placed the pile of branches before me. At a cold nod from me she sat and began stripping the birch switches. While she did this I took several pieces of twine from my pocket and placed them before her, and though she'd never been birched, Jessie knew what to do and quickly and efficiently bound together three stout bundles of birch rods.

"Stand up and remove your clothes," I ordered, and with little more than a pale glance in my direction, my little slave stood and began to disrobe. Since it was a free day and we were going hiking, we'd both worn slacks, loose short-sleeve blouses, and strong shoes. It did not take Jessie long to strip completely naked, and though she nervously glanced at the countryside surrounding us several times, she did not hesitate to obey me. She stood naked in front of me with her hands folded behind her neck, waiting.

I did not speak or look at her for a long time, but let her nervousness grow. Once, after ten minutes or so, she fidgeted, and I was forced to reprimand her sternly. She was terrified and remained rigid with fear after that. It was approximately a half hour later that I finally stood up and idly picked up one of the birches.

Jessie was almost relieved. I saw sweat trickling down her neck though it was not an especially warm day. I took the birch and walked around her, looking at her critically. I wanted her to feel self-conscious and naked, to feel humiliated and abased. Occasionally I took the birch and ran it across her body, caressing her with the tip. I did not strike her, but petted her. I lifted her petite breasts with it, scratched at her stiff nipples. I ran it down her belly and crotch, up along the back of her legs and rubbed her bottom with it. I massaged her back and tickled her neck and cheek with it. Jessie groaned occasionally, wincing at the touch of the switches, and closing her eyes. Many times I watched her hold her breath, afraid to breathe. I would wait until she was forced to gasp for air and then I'd move, startling her, thrusting the branches between her legs or some other unexpected place. Tears moisted her cheeks though I had yet to strike the first blow.

Finally, after an eternity of this, I began the whipping. I was not especially gentle or harsh--I was simply thorough, letting the birch do most of the work. My strokes were slow and solid and well-placed, and soon Jessie was writhing in agony, whimpering and begging me for mercy. Her backside was criss-crossed with thin red marks and I began to thrash the backs of her legs, making Jessie bend forward and present her thighs and buttocks to me.

After several dozen strokes the first birch was ruined, the branches broken and coming apart and buds fallen off. I casually and very obviously went and picked up a fresh birch, bringing new terror and tears to the wide eyes of the trembling Jessie.

The second birch I used harder, raining the blows down slightly faster, the cuts sharper and more cruel. Jessie began to cry loudly, moaning and sobbing. Her cries excited me, and I began to thrash her violently, mindlessly, my arm wild and out of control. My eyes drank in the sight of poor Jessie's punished posterior and I delighted in the scores of welts and darkening bruises appearing across the formerly snowy flesh and round bottom.

It was during this whipping that I lost all connection with Jessie. Her cries spurred me on and I flogged without feeling her pain. I was angry--livid, in fact. In truth I was angry with myself, for I had grown to hate my reputation and stick-up-the-arse manner. But at the time I could not see that. I thought I was angry at Jessie, though I did not know why. My sin was far greater than hers as I took out my anger on her backside. I blamed her for my own faults.

Jessie, to her credit, did not object to my severe discipline. She accepted it stoicly even though she had done nothing to deserve it. She accepted everything from me as though it was a caress. Even when I truly hurt her she did not protest but accepted it as her due. She was a marvelous person, far more mature than me.

Suddenly, in the midst of my passionate thrashing and Jessie's agonizing screams, I heard a voice. The voice came from nowhere and everywhere, and it was so forceful and so overwhelming I obeyed it instantly, without realizing why.

"Erin O'Grady! That's enough!"

Immediately I threw the broken and splintered birch to the ground and weakly fell to my knees, my face stinging with reproach from the God-awful negative tone of the voice. I felt as though I'd been slapped. Tears watered my eyes and in a daze I glanced up and to my astonishment saw a huge white horse standing a mere ten feet from me, with the beautiful Miss Arler astride. She was dressed as I always remember her, in tight riding pants and boots and a snow-white blouse and tan vest. In her right hand was the long leather riding crop I knew so well, and this was raised and pointed directly at my heart.

"Miss Arler!" I gasped. Behind me I sensed Jessie collapsing and turning to see who had surprised us, and I heard her bursting into painful sobbing.

"Erin O'Grady, you ought to be ashamed of yourself! What is going on here? What has this girl done to deserve this?"

"S-she... she has been disobedient," I mumbled, wondering myself.

Miss Arler swiftly and elegantly dismounted, sending chills through my body she was so graceful and beautiful. The sight of her crop made me feel weak in the belly. She walked over to were I knelt in the grass.

"Has she?" The flap of the crop touched the underside of my chin, raising my head until my eyes looked squarely into the blinding brilliance of Miss Arler's gaze.

"No, ma'am," I said softly, humbly. I was amazed at my transformation. My entire body felt powerless and numb. I was hers. Miss Arler could command me as she always had and I would obey instantly, without a thought.

"Just as I thought. You were whipping her for yourself, were you not?"

"Yes, ma'am," I breathed, impressed with the woman's perception.

"And was that fair or just?"

"No, ma'am."

"Should you be punished?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"How severely?"

"Most severely, ma'am. I deserved to be flogged."

My spirit was collapsing. I could feel it. I felt like a small child again, dominated and controlled. I was nothing, a tetse fly, a worm. This woman was a superior being to me. I did not deserve to lick the soles of her boots. Even Jessie, huddling near me, was far above me.

Without a glance at Jessie, from whom radiated astonishment and fear, I stood and began to strip. In a moment I was naked, and I crawled on my hands and knees to Miss Arler and began kissing her boots. She laughed gaily at my useless gesture.

"You think that will save you, my pretty Erin? I think not!"

Then a searing pain exploded across the cheeks of my arse. It was a hot lash from her crop, and the pain brought back memories of the countless times I had experienced discipline from her hand. My mind flashed through dozens of times of bending over during riding lessons, Ariana and the others watching, or private sessions in Miss Arler's office or home. I continued kissing the mistress' boots as the crop rained pain across my bum.

It was excruciating. I'd forgotten how stingy the crop was. It had been over a year since I'd had anything worse than the slipper. I was sorely out of practice. But Miss Arler gave no quarter. She thrashed me for what seemed like hours, weeks, months, years. I soon forgot everything: where I was, Jessie, my nudity, even the whipping. All I could think about was the hot fluids of life coursing through my body in a furious rage. I hadn't felt them in a year and now it seemed I'd surely explode.

When I was sure I'd had enough, and positive Miss Arler had to be exhausted, I saw her go and fetch the third and last bundle of birches. I gurgled out a moan of protest. Surely she didn't expect me to take a birching too! I was exhausted. There was nowhere for me to go. I had no strength left. I could take no more. Couldn't she see that?

But Miss Arler knew me better than I knew myself. She thrashed me soundly with that birch and somehow I did take it, though not quietly. I howled and screamed and finally even Jessie, still suffering from her own dose of the birch, pleaded with the riding instructor that I'd had enough.

Miss Arler relented, saying that perhaps I'd had enough "for now." She caressed young Jessie's cheek and told her she was a kind-hearted girl and deserved better than a despicable mistress like me.

"Come along," she told us. "Gather your things and follow me. Do not even think of getting dressed."

Tearfully, we grabbed our clothes and Jessie also took the empty knapsack and we followed Miss Arler as she lead her horse over the hill toward the west. Though I was in a terrible state of humiliation and agony, watching Miss Arler as she walked before us brought back so many powerful memories so intently that I could scarcely think straight. I both dreaded and looked forward to whatever was to come. She was so beautiful and graceful. I longed for my own bottom to be so shapely in a pair of tight riding pants.

Miss Arler led us to a small stream and had us bathe each other. I was not allowed to wash myself, but had to stand in the icy water while Jessie gathered cold handfuls of water and rubbed them over my blazing body. Then I did the same for her. Both of us were crying as much as laughing, for the water was so cold it numbed the flesh and felt good, but our skin was so sore touching it with anything, even water, was pure agony.

When we were clean we had to dress, and that was pure hell. Despite the shame of being naked, it was far preferable to clothes hugging the tender skin. We managed it, however, and then followed the teacher as she took us on a short cut to the stables, barely two minutes away. It was late afternoon when we arrived, and Miss Arler had me help groom her horse. When we were finished we took a ride in her car. Neither Jessie nor I even asked where we were going. Jessie, I'm sure, assumed we would be returning to the school. But I knew better. We went straight to Miss Arler's house, and from there she called the school to let them know we'd be having dinner with her and she'd bring us around late that evening. The headmistress apparently agreed, for Miss Arler put down the phone and turned to us with a large, wicked smile. She moved her favorite straight-backed armless chair to the center of the room and sat down.

"Off with those clothes, the both of you. Your discipline has yet to begin."

More to come next week!

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