A Trip to the Basement

Another erotic story from the FLOGMASTER!

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A Trip to the Basement

(***, F/ffff, Intense, nc schoolgirl caning)

A naughty schoolgirl takes her first trip to the basement where punishments are given. (Approximately 1,393 words. Originally published 2003-12.)

Monica smiled at the others as they said good night, and climbed into bed as though it was an ordinary night. But inside, her heart was thumping something awful. Her smile was as hollow as an empty box. She lay on the bed and silently waited, full of dread.

Tonight she was to go to the basement. She could scarcely believe it herself. In two years she'd somehow managed to escape the basement, but today that record was washed away in an instant. One moment she'd been giggling with Dominique, then she was standing with head bowed before the Headmistress receiving a blistering lecture on the evils of smoking. How could she have been so stupid!

The dormitory was quiet. A few girls lay reading with flashlights under the covers, but most were waiting for the final bed check before going to sleep. Monica could hardly breath. The worst was that she hadn't told anyone else what was happening. No one but Dominique, in Dorm Four, knew that she was to go to the basement tonight.

Suddenly there was a sound in the hallway and the door handle turned. Instantly, flashlights flicked off and eight girls lay still as sleeping logs. The prefect at the doorway carefully counted heads and checked her clipboard, then looked in Monica's direction.

"Monica Keel? You will get up and come with me for discipline."

There was a collective gasp from the others. Monica shivered. Her legs trembled as she put them off the bed. She got her slippers on and took up her robe. At the doorway, she paused.

"Come on, you must pick someone," encouraged the prefect.

"Must I?" moaned Monica.

"You know the rules. You must choose one of your roommates to be punished with you."

Slowly Monica looked around the room. The girls were all her loyal friends. None had ever chosen her to accompany them to the basement. Monica wished there was a way out of her horrible decision.

There was Jessie, a year younger than her, and sweet as fresh cherry pie. Donna was a bit of a gossip, but she had a heart of gold. Orlando was the oldest at seventeen, but she was a true friend and didn't mind hanging out with those younger than herself. Mandi and Wendy were the youngest and naughtiest, and they always took each other to the basement. Sheril was pretty and could be stuck up at times, but she was a good friend when things counted. Lori was Monica's best friend -- she couldn't possibly pick her.

The prefect was becoming impatient. "Come on, hurry up!"

"I-I can't decide," muttered Monica. "It's really not fair! They didn't do anything."

"You should have thought of that before you snuck a smoke behind the gym."

As Monica's eyes passed over the group again, Lori sat up in her bed. "It's okay, Mon. Pick me."

Tears came to Monica's eyes. "I can't," she moaned, but finally nodded. "Lori," she whispered.

The prefect nodded and Lori climbed out of bed and joined her friend. Monica could hardly bear to look at her.

"I can't believe you're doing this," she whispered as they went out the door and down the hall. "I'll remember it forever, I swear!"

"You'll get your chance to make it up to me," smiled Lori. "It's not my first trip downstairs."

Dominique and her friend Rachel were already waiting with the Head when Monica and Lori arrived. The prefect shut the heavy door behind them and it was just the girls and the Head in the room. The Head was a tall thin woman, pretty in a grim sort of manner, though too scrawny. In her right hand was a long brown cane with a curled handle. The sight of it made Monica freeze.

Lori pulled her forward. The four girls lined up in front of the headmistress and at her instruction, carefully removed their lower garments. Pajama bottoms and underwear were carefully placed on a bench along the far wall. Half-naked, the girls returned.

"You've already had your lectures," said the Head sternly, "so all that's left is your thrashings. I trust this will teach you to remember school rules?"

"Yes, ma'am!" cried all four girls.

"Alright, spread out, turn and face the wall. Hands out, palms flat. Lean forward, bottoms out. Legs wider, girls. Come on, I don't want to be here all night."

The position was a humiliating one. Naked from the waist down except for slippers, Monica leaned forward against the wall. She pressed her palms flat against the cold cement. Her butt stuck out obscenely behind her. She could hear the Head walking along the line and making adjustments.

The girls had to be a couple feet apart, bent just right, with feet forward so their buns hung out behind them, and legs spread wide for stability. Their heads were down low, parallel to their arms, to remind them of their lowly position.

A sharp palm caught Monica's ass down low, stinging and driving her forward. One hand thrust her head back down while another pushed the small of her back. A foot kicked her legs wider apart and a stern voice ordered her to shuffle forward another inch or so. Monica was gasping after the woman had moved on, dazed by her experience. In those few seconds she felt like she'd been sexually violated: she could still feel the woman's steel fingers against her skin.

Then there was the swishing of the cane as the Head warmed up, and Monica forgot all about feeling violated. Now she just felt terrified.

Dominique was at the far left, where the Head started. The cane rose in the air and cracked down impossibly hard across the teen's juttering cheeks. Dominique stifled a scream. Again and again the cane struck, each blow leaving a thick double-edged weal of scarlet extraction.

After eight cruel swipes, the Head moved to Rachel. She was next to Monica and every blow sent chills of horror down Monica's spine. It was over far too quickly and suddenly the Head was there, lining up the rod. There was a faint swish and then CRACK! Agony! Murder! Pain! It was the worst thing Monica had ever felt. It was like fire, like a red hot poker pressed against her skin. And she had seven more of those to go? How could she bear it?

Somehow, she did. Her buttocks were full and swollen when it was over, but somehow she'd survived. The whole right side of her body felt devastated. The tip of the cane had wrapped over her hip a few times, leaving monstrously thick weals on that side. Monica could do nothing but sob and sob.

Then she realized in horror that poor Lori was receiving the same treatment. Lori was taking it well -- better than Monica -- but it was so unfair! She had done nothing wrong. Monica saw tears flooding down her face and grimly resolved that this would be her last trip to the basement for her own cause. She'd accompany Lori on ten visits if the girl wanted her to, but she'd never again do anything to bring this kind of torture to a friend.

When the Head was finished with Lori, Monica started to rise.

"What are you doing?" whispered Lori furiously. "Get back in position!"

Hastily, Monica complied, and saw with dread and the punishment was not over! The Head was back at Dominique and lifting the cane again, but this time from the girl's right side.

Belatedly Monica remembered when she'd seen a girl's punishment marks that the weals were full across _both_ cheeks. For that to happen, the Head had to switch sides and whip from the right....

"Oh my God," she breathed, her heart fluttering with fear. Soon her left hip would match her right as the cane wrapped over that side. Monica began to cry.

"Buck up," hissed Lori. "Only eight more to go. It'll all be over in a few moments."

Monica cringed, wondering how in the world she could endure "only" eight more. But it wasn't like she had much choice. After all, this was the basement, and she'd earned her way down here.

"Never again," she vowed as the Head finished with Rachel and stepped behind Monica. "Never again."

The End