THE PRICE OF STARDOM

 
THE PRICE OF STARDOM

By Tcheser


“You know I have something here that would look just absolutely so sexy on you.” The man who claimed to be Sandra’s biggest fan told her. Ever since picking her up after her performance at the hotel club downstairs he had been laying it on as thick as honey. Sandra was a sucker for compliments though. Always had been.

“Let me get this straight lover-boy. You want me to wear something really sexy?” the sensuous young blonde singer asked the tall dark and handsome man. “What I’m wearing isn’t sexy enough for you?” She asked teasingly as she leaned forward towards the man sitting next to her exposing her breasts even more so in her tight low cut black dress.

“Oh, you look ravishing, my dear Sandra” The man replied quickly. “It’s just I think the outfit I have in the other room will showcase your beauty even more magnificently then your fine dress. I bought it just for you.”


“Well, if you insist” Sandra smiled and drained the last of her third glass of expensive champagne and began to stand to go change into the outfit. She loved receiving presents and often required lavish gifts of her beaus. She deserved it. She was no common girl after all. As a vocalist she always received top billing, had her own dressing room and called all the shots when it came to her performance. She was also in her sensual prime and although rather petite she had a nice figure, soft blemish free skin, a beautiful face and if she did say so herself a charming personality. She was glad she had fired that busybody manager her parents had hired back when she first started. She didn’t need a chaperone and now free of the annoying mother hen Sandra could actually have some fun.

“Would you unzip me?” she asked coquettishly as she turned around before her nearly panting admirer..

“Of course, my dear” the man stammered, putting his own glass of champagne down and rushing to unzip her. She heard his sharp intact of breath as he unzipped her and revealed her gorgeous body. She let her dress fall to the ground and stepped out of it and then turned around. She wore just her black thong panties and her matching lace bra. She had already discarded her heels. Then as the man drooled she unclasped her bra releasing her pert young breasts. She dropped the garment on the ground and then slipped her panties down her long legs and off. Now naked she walked as seductively as she could in her slightly inebriated state over to the man and tried to get him to forget this dress up nonsense.

He was adamant though. He even produced a special little surprise. He had a wig he wanted her to wear as well. He even wanted to put it on her himself and he didn’t want her to see it until it was on. Dutifully Sandra closed her eyes and waited as he produced the wig from its hiding place. Then waited as he placed it carefully upon her head making sure all her long blonde hair was tucked beneath it. Sandra wanted to see the wig then, but he playfully told her to wait a moment longer. He then ran into the other room and returned with the outfit she was to change into. The suspense was actually making her wet she found. This was so much better then the safe dates her former manager arranged for her.

“Alright, you can open your eyes now.” The man said.

Sandra did so immediately as she was quite anxious by this point to see what all the fuss was about. She was more then a little surprised with what she saw. She had expected the man to desire her to wear some skimpy little set of lingerie or some scandalously tight latex or leather. What he held before her was neither the former nor the latter. It was a terribly cutesy lacey pink little girl’s style party dress. It was flounced and held wide at the hem by what had to be a petticoat. He even held little girl style underwear and shoes for her to wear.

“I can’t wear that” Sandra said after a moment’s revulsion. “It’s too weird”

“Please, Sandra. You’ll make me so happy. I’ve dreamed of it for years.” The man pleaded and sat the garments down on the edge of the sofa for her.

“I’m sorry; you should have mentioned this earlier. I can’t do it.” Sandra admitted. “But we can still have fun, honey” she tried to placate him with her raw sexuality.

“No, you have to wear the dress… please.” He kneeled beside her and took her hand softly as he pleaded.

She almost broke at that point and gave in, but then she realized what that would mean. She would have to put on the silly clothes and from there on who knows what she would have to do with the weirdo. She had to draw the line somewhere and for her the line was right here. “No, I’m sorry, I can’t wear it.” She said firmly.

“Yes, you will” he suddenly sounded angry and stood up. “I went to a lot of trouble to be here and to get this room and to get you…. So you’ll wear it or else!”

“Or else what?” Sandra barked back. She had seen and heard enough from this psycho. She also didn’t like being threatened and bullied. So she wasn’t going to take any of his threatening crap.

“Or else…Or else…” The fanatic seemed startled she would ask and didn’t have an answer right away. His eyes darted about the room as he thought quickly. Then they settled on something and he smiled. Then as Sandra watched with horror he stalked over to the sofa they had been sitting at and picked up all her fine clothes and tossed them into the genuine wood burning fireplace.

“No! What do you think you’re doing?” she cried and rushed over to the fireplace. It was too late though the clothes had quickly caught fire and she couldn’t safely get them out. They were lost to her.

“Now you have to wear what I gave you.” The sick man smiled triumphantly.

Sandra was furious. She looked from the smiling man to the pile of clothes he had provided and back again. Then she walked slowly over to him and kicked him squarely in the groin. She hit him with all the force her petite body could muster and caught him totally by surprise. He hunched over in great pain letting out a silent scream and began to fall to the ground. Sandra felt exhilarated from this action right up until she saw the man hit his head on the hard corner of the coffee table as he slid to the ground. He ended up at her feet with blood pouring from his head. Sandra wasn’t a doctor but that didn’t look good and he wasn’t moving.

Knowing that she could be held responsible for this Sandra hurried to leave the hotel room. She found to her dismay that she couldn’t find her purse however. It was no where to be found. The weirdo must have tossed her purse in the fire along with her clothes she realized in horror. Reluctantly she left without it. She had to. She just scooped up the pile of clothes the fan had brought her from the sofa edge before she left slamming the door hard behind her.

In the hallway Sandra sobered up quickly. It was much cooler and quieter here allowing her to think more clearly. The horrifying reality of what had just happened finally dawned on her. She might be a murderer. That weird guy could be dead because of her. She could be found guilty in a court of law and sent to one of those horrible women’s prisons she saw on cable late at night. Her career would be over! All she could think to do was get the hell out of the hotel as quickly as her little legs could take her.

Waiting for the elevator was sheer torture, but they were on the fifteenth floor and Sandra didn’t want to run down all those flights of stairs. When it arrived she was happy to see it was blessedly free of other passengers. It was rather late fortunately. It was nearly eleven o’clock on a Thursday. Most people were in bed. Hopping in the elevator she hit the button for the lobby and was thrilled when the door closed and it started moving.

She was going to hit the emergency stop between floors so she could put some clothes on, but she found to her dismay that this new model elevator didn’t have such a thing. It did, but you needed a key to activate it. Cursing she hurried to dress as the ground floor grew ever closer.

She started with the ridiculous underwear the fan had provided. Big full cut white panties with rows and rows of pink lace and a white cotton half shirt with matching lace trim. They were all in children’s sizes she noted from the tags, but she found to her dismay that they fit her just fine. She put on the dress next. It was a very frilly thing. It was pink satin with very delicate white embroidery and lace trim, short puffy sleeves, and a big ornamental bow on the back. Its high collar, frilly decorations and high waist almost completely diminished her chest. The petticoat she had detected earlier turned out to be sewn to the inside of the dress. So when she put it on it billowed out at a very wide angle. No amount of encouragement from Sandra would make it settle any less buoyantly or make it any longer. It was quite short and seemed even shorter as it billowed out so. She hadn’t worn a dress like this since her aunts wedding when she was in the 6th grade. Cursing her luck she then slipped on the knee socks and the patent leather round toed pink Mary Janes that came with the outfit.

She had just about finished buckling the straps on the shoes when the elevator reached the lobby and the big brass doors opened with a chime. Sandra stepped out carefully. She peaked around to see if anyone was about. She didn’t want to be seen after all. Not like this. With just a little luck though she thought she could reach the front door without anyone noticing her. So walking as quietly as she could on the tile floor in the hard soled Mary Janes she preceded carefully toward the door. She made it about ten paces before she was confronted with her own reflection in the huge gold framed lobby mirrors.

She was momentarily stunned and paused in mid-step. She couldn’t believe the little girl in the mirror was her. She looked so different then she was used to seeing herself. So much less mature then her 22 years of age. The wig she had forgotten to remove certainly didn’t help. It was a bright red in color and set in simply juvenile curls and set off with a big pink bow. She tried to remove the damn thing, but found it wouldn’t budge. No matter how hard she pulled all she managed to do was make her scalp hurt. The goddamned freak had apparently glued the wig on! There must have been glue on it even before he put it on her head. At least for now the wig seemed like it was going to have to stay just where it was Sandra lamented. Worse still she saw that her dress was not only short, but that even standing still she couldn’t help but show off a little of her childish lace trimmed panties.

Shaking off the strange vision she once again headed toward the hotel entrance. From there she could catch a cab or if she had to she could walk home. As she passed by the front desk she was startled by the loud ding of the elevator door closing. She was so excited and nervous that she spun all the way around the see what the sound was. Cursing to herself when she saw that it was just the elevator she forgot to look where she was going and nearly collided with a tall woman in a dark pinstripe suit who was walking up to her. Of all the luck it was the concierge. She was certain the woman had seen her arrive that day and might have even been at her show earlier. She was caught it seemed.

Then she noticed the way she was looking at her. Not like an awe struck fan as she had been that afternoon or in admiration as she had been while Sandra was performing. She looked at her with concern and a bit of irritation. She didn’t recognize her Sandra realized. She still had a chance. This woman thought she was someone else. She just had to get by her and out the door.

“Excuse me” Sandra said politely as she tried to get past the woman.

The woman was having none of it though. She continued to block Sandra’s path as she looked her up and down. Without her heels the tall woman towered over Sandra. She seemed to think for a minute before speaking and choose her words carefully. When she spoke she did so slowly in soft tones like she was speaking to a child. “Pardon me, dear; I am the concierge here at the hotel, my name is Ms. Bainbridge, but you can call me Eliza. Is there anything I can help you with?”

“Ummm…” Sandra was at a loss for words. Judging by how she spoke to her the nice Ms. Bainbridge apparently thought Sandra was a child! Moreover she was probably very curious as to why Sandra was down in the lobby at such a late hour by herself.

“Are you looking for your parents?” Eliza asked in concern.

“No! What are you crazy?” Sandra suddenly replied despite herself. She wasn’t looking for her parents. She was 22 years old for god’s sake. She didn’t even need her stupid manager anymore. She gave Eliza a look that had in the past told people they had better back away because they were pissing her off. Tonight however it didn’t seem to work.

“Calm down, dear. No reason to get excited. I’m here.” Eliza said as she put her hand on Sandra’s shoulder and began to guide her over to the front desk. “Are your parents up in your room?” Eliza asked. “At least one of them should be down here with you. Its no problem of course, we’ll just give them a call-”

Sandra couldn’t believe it. Eliza thought she was a child staying at the hotel and was now trying to do her job and make sure she didn’t get hurt. She didn’t recognize her as the hotels very own headlining performer. Things were really getting ridiculous and she had had enough. She couldn’t stay here one moment longer. She twisted out of Eliza’s loose grasp and began to run up the entranceway to the exit. Eliza was too shocked to do anything at first but watch Sandra run off.

Sandra was certain she was going to make her escape this time. She could see the street and the cars whizzing by just outside the glass doors. She had almost gotten caught, but she had escaped. This was soon to be just another amusing tale for cocktail parties. Then she ran into trouble. The long entranceway hall was marble tile covered in fancy rugs. Running on the rugs Sandra made good time despite her short stature, but when her rather slick bottomed Mary Jane hit a portion of the tile floor not covered by a rug she slipped and had a good tumble. She slid to a stop on her rump not ten feet from the big revolving glass doors of the entrance. Before she could shake off her shock though a big doorman came and grabbed her.

He wasn’t rough. He was fairly gentle, but he was very strong. He picked her up like she was a doll and placed her on her feet. Then like she was a careless child he flipped her skirt which had flipped up over her back exposing her childish panties into its proper position. Sandra tried to break his grasp and continue her flight, but he was far too strong. His grip on her arm was unbreakable.

“Let go of me you big gorilla!” she shouted to no avail. He wouldn’t let go and she struggled she gasped as she remembered him as the very same doorman who had helped her from her limo earlier that day. The same doorman who had taken such a long admiring glance at her legs when she was exiting her limo that he had blushed bright red when she caught him and gave him a wink. The same doorman, but now dressed as she was had no interest in her beyond restraining her for her own safety.

Then Eliza came rushing up to entranceway. She kneeled down so she was closer to Sandra’s height to speak to her. “Please honey; don’t be difficult this is for your own good. We can’t have young children running out into the streets. You could be badly hurt.” Eliza explained gently.

“But that’s just the point! I’m not a-“ she was about to say she was really 22 years old and the famous vocalist they had contracted to perform in their very own club when she realized how humiliating it would be for them to find that out at this point. For now it seemed better to be taken for an errant child then a half drunk woman running around in children’s clothes. So instead she said “I’m not staying in your damn hotel!” and was certain that now they would have to let her go.

“She’s a real spitfire, she is” The doorman then commented as he smiled down at her crushing her hopes of a quick release. He didn’t seem to be taking what she had said as the truth though and neither did Eliza.

“She sure is, Andre” Eliza said in agreement and they shared a look that Sandra interpreted as ‘She’s more then a spitfire, she’s a spoiled little brat!’

“Listen, you fools. I’m not a-” Sandra began again but stopped as Eliza stood, motioned for Andre to bring Sandra and began to head back up the entranceway. “Hey, where are you taking me?” Sandra shouted as she was pulled along by Andre.

“Just to the office, dear. We’ll have this matter straightened out in no time.” Eliza replied.

“But I don’t want to go with you! I just want to get out of here!” Sandra shouted.

“I know, I know” Eliza replied dismissively as she led the way.

“I know I shouldn’t have been running, but I’m sorry” Sandra tried to reason with Andre or Eliza or whoever would listen. “I won’t do it again. None of this is necessary!”

“That’s very interesting” Eliza said despite the fact that it was clear she was hardly listening. Sandra didn’t like that answer of course so continued to struggle and kick at Andre for all the good it did her.

She only stopped when they walked by the bar area. There were still a fair number of men and women there having drinks and listening to a piano player. Fortunately they were distracted by what they were doing and didn’t seem to notice as Eliza led Andre and Sandra past them. Sandra almost pulled free at one point, but Andre caught her again and this time held her by the back of her frilly dress with one of his massive hands. He didn’t seem to notice, however Sandra did, that by holding her by the back of her dress as he was he was pulling her dress up leaving Sandra’s lower body exposed. If anyone cared to look they would see the entirety of her childish panties and some of her cute little belly.

Then of all things Eliza told Andre to wait a moment while she checked in the bar to see if Sandra belonged to any of the patrons. So Sandra had to stand there in her currently jumbled up juvenile attire for everyone to see. She was humiliated enough already to be seen in public dressed as she was. But to be seen being dragged along by the doorman like a naughty little girl with her dress in disarray, one knee sock crumpled and her face red from exertion was too much.

“Look at that little rapscallion” She heard someone in the bar say.

“Must have lost her mommy” she heard an elegantly dressed woman say to her date.

“Or maybe her dolly” the woman’s date joked.

“It must be past her bedtime, she looks cranky” another commented.

They all laughed and smiled at the charming scene before them not for a moment suspecting that she was a full grown woman. The women were amused because they could relate to Sandra’s problems. They wore skirts and could imagine the torment she must be going through with hers all rucked up exposing her childish panties to everyone. Even worse then that though was that charming handsome men were laughing at her as well. The women she could understand. The men however were the ones she had always been able to wrap around her little finger. The men usually adored her and did whatever she wished. Tonight though she wasn’t the sexy siren she normally was. In their eyes she was just a naughty looking little girl.

It wasn’t fair! She was a celebrity. Not a household name or anything, but at least a local celebrity. This shouldn’t be happening to her. She shouldn’t be subjected to this humiliation. She shouldn’t be restrained by these hotel nitwits. Nor should she be laughed at and ridiculed by these nobodies. She didn’t see how things could get any worse.

Then it did. The concierge she saw was handed a message from another hotel employee and after reading it came straight back over to Sandra to tell her just about the last thing she wished to hear. “Good news, honey. We found your dad and he’s on his way down to get you.”

On his way down to get her? Sandra couldn’t believe what she was hearing. What were they talking about? How could they have found her dad? They didn’t even know who she was? Then the elevator dinged and a familiar man stepped out in the lobby and turned to approach them.

It was the weirdo. Sandra’s biggest fan.

He walked slowly and had an icepack on his head but still managed to smile and act both apologetic and gracious to the hotel staff for finding his naughty daughter. “I’ll take her back upstairs now.” He told them “We need to have a long talk.” Then turning to Sandra he added slyly “Don’t we my pretty little flower?”

And Sandra understood the play he was giving her instantly. She could come clean and tell the concierge and Andre and whomever else in the bar was listening who she really was and not have to go with him. However if she did that she would be humiliated and he could probably bring her up on charges of assault or maybe even attempted murder. So her only real choice was to go with him, pretend to be his daughter and face the music as it were.

Sandra taking his hand and allowing herself to be led back to the elevator like a condemned woman was a forgone conclusion. As the doors closed and the elevator began to rise he said to her “You look lovelier then I ever imagined” and as she raised one leg to fix her fallen knee sock she thought maybe this won’t be so bad. She had always been a sucker for compliments after all. 

Teacher Spanked: A Real Life Mistaken Identity Story

Teacher Spanked: A Real Life Mistaken Identity Story


I’m a teacher in West Virginia and this past Friday I was talking to a fellow teacher about how hellish these kids are these days and how the paddle needs brought back to schools. Then she decides to share a story with me about when she first started teaching back in 1985.

She told me that she was doing her observations of her teacher one day when she got to school late. She told me that she looked very young even though she was 25 years old. She said that even at the high school level, she had the smallest breasts in the school. The teacher she was observing was absent that day and had a substitute teacher. The substitute was a really old lady who didn’t know anything about her being a college student who was working on becoming a teacher, so she chided her for coming to class late. She tried to apologize and explain, but the sub told her to be quite and take her seat. She was confused, but did as told.

Later in the day they were working on rehearsals for a drama production and my colleague just stood there watching like she was supposed to when the sub asked her why she wasn’t in her costume and just standing around. She again tried to explain who she was, but the sub cut her off and told her to put on costume on now and quit wasting time or she was going to spank her and put it on her herself. She grabbed her arm, gave her swat, and told her to scoot. My colleague went into the room, but didn’t know what to do, she said she was very confused. She finally opened the door to confront the sub, but the sub marched in, grabbed her by the arm and sat down on a nearby table and pulled my colleague over her knee and started to spank her and give her this lecture about how she came to school late, has been nothing but trouble all day, and now won’t change clothes and she was tired of it and was going to teach her an old fashion lesson. After her spanking which she said was only about 10 swats, the sub started to pull her dress over her head. Feeling confused and defeated, she didn’t put up a fight. The sub took off her dress, took off her bra and made a comment that no 25 year old has breasts like this and that there is no point to lie to adults about her age that one day she’ll mature but she must learn to respect her elders, and held the leotard type costume for her to step into and she zipped her up. She gave her another swat and sent her outside with the other students to practice.

The next day she came back to the class and was the first one there. The regular teacher came back and read the note that the sub had left and when the teacher realized it was my colleague, she apologized for not leaving a note and said she would talk to the principal about her getting spanked. My colleague who was embarrassed about it just told the teacher to drop it and that she was too embarrassed and didn’t want to think about it again. I couldn’t believe it when she told me the story Friday and just had to share about this amazing case of mistaken identity!

As always with stories such as this...

Strathmore Academy For Girls: Special Group

Strathmore Academy for Girls: Special Group
By Tcheser

They all sat near each other in Ms. Klebb’s fourth period seventh grade European history class. Two in the front row and two just behind them just as they always did, in every class they had together, which was every class. They didn’t do it because they wanted to though. They had no great desire to sit in the exact same place in every class or to be so near their teachers. The four girls were assigned seats and classes just like everyone else was. They had no choice in the matter at all.

The faculty however didn’t assign their seats randomly like they did everyone else however. No, they wanted these four girls in their “Special” program to all be grouped together so they would be easier to keep track of. The girls in the group hated it. Being grouped together like they were just made them a bigger target for ridicule and taunting.

“Janie” Ms. Klebb suddenly called out.

“Yes, Ms. Klebb”. One of the girl’s in the group stood up immediately. She looked frightened and couldn’t help but fidget as she stood there. Like all the other girl’s in the middle school she wore the strictly enforced school uniform. It consisted of a short sleeved white blouse with a blue ribbon tie at the round collar and a short blue pinafore dress. It was in fact so short that even when Janie stood completely still nearly a third of her white pantied ass was on display for the entire class to see. She wore properly fitted white knit knee socks and carefully polished t-bar mary janes on her feet. Her curly red hair was worn short and pulled back by a blue Alice band.


“When was the Magna Carta signed?” Ms. Klebb asked as she pointed to the words Magna Carta on the chalk board.

“In 1215 Maam” Janie answered as clearly as she could and then curtsied as she had been taught.

“That is correct. You may sit.” The teacher motioned with her pointer. “In 1215 the king of England… Who was king of England at this time?” She paused and looked over the class “Angie.” She called out finally to the relief of the other students.

Angie proved to be another girl in the “special” program group. She sat in front of Janie. She stood as soon as she heard her name. She was a slim Parisian who wore her hair in pigtails. One day she might be striking, but for now she was just another awkward little girl. Like all the other girls she wasn’t allowed to wear any sort of cosmetics or wear jewelry that would accentuate her natural good looks. So she looked rather pale and a bit plain. The very obvious braces and retainer she wore didn’t help much either. They slurred her speech and detracted from her beautiful smile. Unlike Janie she wore ankle socks and navy and white saddle shoes. The rest of her uniform was identical though.

“That was King John, Maam” Angie answered shyly with a curtsey.

“Yes, King John signed the Magna Carta. You may sit.” Ms. Klebb announced to a visibly relieved Angie. “Signed in 1215 the document was a concession made between King John of England and a group of barons that rebelled against the arbitrary powers of the King. What did this document do?…Becky?”

Another girl from the “special” program group stood. She was a cute little thing with her short wavy blonde hair and blue eyes. She looked very embarrassed to be standing there and took a moment to answer. When she did she blushed quite red. “It gave the barons more power, Maam?” she answered tentatively.

“No, that is incorrect, Becky.” Ms. Klebb said with a little smile. “See me after class. Now you may sit. “The charter granted rights to the citizens of England and at the same time created limitations to the Kings authority. Despite the fact that this measure, the Magna Carta was valid for only a very short time and almost immediately, King John applied to the pope in Rome to invalidate the document arguing that his promise to uphold the agreement had been extorted by force. Despite the fact that the pope agreed and nullified the Magana Carta, It has since then become an important part of British constitutional history and also a significant part in the struggle for Universal Human Rights.” She explained to the class. She then heard the school bell rang. “Okay class, see you tomorrow. Before you go hand in your assignments to Lucy”

The class then sprang into action. They grabbed their books and bags and quickly filed out of the room. As they went they handed their two page writing assignment to the fourth girl in the “special” program group. Lucy was Asian and looked every bit the repressed school girl. She collected all the papers solemnly then walked them up to Ms. Klebb’s desk. She wore round wire rimmed glasses and had a rather unfortunate blunt cut hair style that didn’t seem to suit her at all. Besides that she was easy to overlook. Ms. Klebb took the assignments without so much as a thank you and told Lucy to leave and shut the door behind her.

The only other person left in the room was Becky who still sat at her desk. She just sat there nervously staring at her desk. “Okay, Becky you know the drill” Ms. Klebb said as she finished up behind her desk and then came out in front of it.

“Yes, Maam” Becky replied as she stood and walked like a condemned woman to the front of the classroom. She then stood in front of Ms. Klebb’s desk, leaned over it face down and grabbed the other side with her hands. She was then bent over the desk with her little ass high in the air behind her.

“Good let’s begin your punishment then shall we” Ms. Klebb said as she pulled up Becky’s skirt and laid it over her back. Becky’s white cotton full cut school panties were fully exposed, but they didn’t stay up long. The teacher took them by the elastic at the top and pulled them down to her feet. “This is for not paying due attention to your History studies.” Ms. Klebb then announced before she began to bring her pointer down in long steady arcs upon Becky’s bottom. Each swat rang out loudly in the quiet room. Becky kicked her legs in agitation. She tried to stay silent, but by the 5th swat she had started to cry despite herself. Even so she received 5 more. Ms. Klebb had other things to attend to though so she stopped there. “Now study harder for next class Becky” she warned with a wagging finger “I don’t want to have to report you to the headmaster.” Becky nodded contritely and was then allowed to pull up her panties and leave the classroom.

Outside the group were all waiting for her. Becky fell into Janie’s comforting arms and started sobbing all over. Not so much from the pain but from the humiliation of it. For you see these four girls were not twelve years old anymore. The youngest among them was twenty one. They had all been brought to the school against their will and forced to reenter the 7th grade. They had been secretly and systematically stripped of their adult clothes, privileges and affectations until no one believed they were anything but what their school file said they were. Four naughty spoiled little girls in need of firm and direct discipline. They were all there for different reasons but suffered the same fate.

Janie was the first to be brought to Strathmore Academy for Girls. In the real world her name had been Janet Waylon. She had run a very profitable software company which she had started right out of college. No one thought it was going anywhere, but three years from the day the company began it landed several very profitable defense contracts and was looking to go public with a record opening pop. Her detractors said she was a perfectionist and a slave driver, but she got results. Janie’s hard work and determination were going to make her rich and she was on top of the world.

Then one of her silent partners decided one day he didn’t want a woman running the company anymore. He had a golfing buddy he thought would make a better ceo. So the next thing Janet knew she was, at her partners urging, touring an old school for sale in upstate New York as a possible new branch office space. The school was still in operation during the tour though so Janet had to sign several routine forms for insurance liability reasons. Little did she know that one of the forms gave her partner power of attorney over her and another signed her into the school as a student.

Janet didn’t know what to think when the strong male assistants of the headmaster told her to take off her expensive power suit and heels but she did so under duress. When it came to her panties and bra though she put up more of a fight. In the end though she was stripped naked, showered and given a haircut above and below, covered everywhere but her head in a stinging hair removal cream and then dressed in the schools humiliatingly childish uniform. Afterward she looked very much like a child she noticed. She had never been very tall or curvy and dressed like a school girl she realized she could easily be mistaken for one. Then she was given her introductory spanking by the headmaster which banished any notions that this was just a joke or a mistake as he explained just what was happening and how she would spend the next 6 years there being taught to be nice obedient little girl.

Lucy was the next to arrive. In many ways her story was similar. She had been a rising star in the tenuous field of acting. Rumors that she was hard to work with had made finding good roles difficult for her recently and she had become rather desperate for a good gig to put her back on top. A rival of hers however decided she would have a better shot without the lovely Lucy around and went about sabotaging her career. Thinking her rival was a friend Lucy allowed herself to be convinced that she should take a leading role in a drama set in a school. She also let herself be convinced to do some undercover research at a real school. It seemed reasonable enough at the time she often mused. The film was to take place in a very strict academic environment after all of which she knew nothing about.

Perhaps she should have seen the odd gleam in her rivals eyes as more then excitement, but she didn’t. She went along with everything that was suggested. She told only her rival where she was going and let her make most of the arrangements. She even allowed herself to be convinced to change her appearance for the project. She allowed her friend to cut her long lustrous black hair and style it into an unattractive school girl hairstyle. She surrendered her colored contacts for the awful eyeglasses she now wore and put on the school uniform of her own volition. After that all her “friend” had to do was get her to Strathmore and they took care of the rest.

After just one day pretending to be a freshmen girl getting picked on by older appearing and bigger girls and being punished for childish errors quickly put her in her place. She was ready to leave the next day and told the headmaster who she really was. A session of mouth washing was applied for her lying and a paddling for her attitude sealed her fate. No respectable actress would be brought to bawling like a baby from a little paddling now would they?

After comforting poor Becky as best they could the group moved down the hallway to the lunch room. It was their lunch period after all and they were all hungry. They all agree that the one nice thing about their stay at the school was the free food. It wasn’t that good, but they could have all they wanted. As they lined up to receive their plates though they had no way of knowing they were on a special lunch plan. It was the headmaster’s idea actually and had been kept secret from the girls.

To gain better control of the women in his “Special” program the headmaster had very unusual meals prepared for them and only them. These plate lunches were chemically engineered to provide the bare amount of nutrition the girls needed while maintaining sufficient bulk to disguise the fact. Having eaten nothing but these meals since they arrived all the women had lost substantial amounts of weight. There arms and legs were spindly, their knees knobby and they lost a great deal of strength. The food was also laced with hormones and chemicals blockers more fit for the systems of prepubescent girls then adult women. Because of this the women had experienced additional weight loss in such areas as their hips, thighs, and breasts along with a total retardation of body hair. This also resulted in altered menstrual cycles. The women were very emotional much of the time and sometimes just the littlest thing would set them to crying. The lunch ladies knew this and always had several special plates ready to give them.

Becky had been the most effected by the food. She had never been a very tall or a very developed woman. At the age of twenty one she only stood 5’1” and wore petite sizes. She never really let it bother her though. She had an angelic face, beautiful blonde hair she wore down to her ass and dressed in killer fashions that showed off what curves she did have. With a padded push up bra she felt as attractive if not more attractive then any woman she met.

Then she ran a foul of a woman she shouldn’t have. Becky had found herself smitten by the woman’s boyfriend and being a bit of a man stealer she tried to move in on him. The man’s girlfriend however wasn’t having any of it though and endeavored to take Becky out of the picture. She pretended to be beaten by Becky and even gave her some tips on how to seduce her former boyfriend. Becky ate it all up and was soon prancing around in a school uniform for him. Unfortunately this was all it took for her parents who were already a bit fed up with her behavior to sign papers to have her institutionalized for awhile. A little suggestion that Becky used drugs from the woman Becky was trying to screw to her parents and Becky ended up at Strathmore for an indefinite stay rather then the county hospital for a week or two.

 That was nearly three months ago. Without her lovely figure enhancing clothes and the drugs in the food effecting her metabolism and hormones Becky looked every bit the twelve year old schoolgirl. Her small breasts had shrunk to almost nothing, her legs were thin and unwomanly, her voice had gone up several octaves and like all of them she had lost weight. She was well beyond miserable and cried herself to sleep just about every night.

The other women in the group knew how fragile Becky was and tried to do what they could to protect her. Unfortunately they were at the mercy of the faculty and more often then not there was nothing they could do to even help themselves. They were prisoners in a facility that not only robbed them of their freedom, but of their dignity and eventually their spirit.

The last member of the group, Angie, had also required some work on the part of the school faculty. She was originally a top model from Paris before she became incarcerated at Strathmore. As Angelina Gautier she had graced the cover of every major fashion and glamour magazine in the world and dated top athletes and playboy actors. She had long frosted highlighted hair and a body that wouldn’t quit.

Eventually her success became a problem for some less then scrupulous people. She was finally kidnapped by a rival modeling agency, dressed in the school uniform and brought to Strathmore never to be seen again. Unfortunately even without makeup and dressed in the conservative school uniform Angelina was still too beautiful to make a convincing student. She stood out like a rose among weeds.

The faculty saw this and couldn’t allow such an attractive woman into their program. It would surely be too disruptive. Her addition was sure to lead to distraction and possible corruption. Ever resourceful the headmaster came up with a solution. With the rival modeling agency’s approval Angelina was drugged and taken away the first night she was there.

Shady doctors in the secret employ of the school then went to work on her. They first reduced her beautiful C cup breasts to a small AA. Then they used liposuction on her perfect bottom until it was boyishly flat. After the surgery they then dyed her stylish hair back to its brown roots and put braces on her perfect teeth. After they did all that she was still pretty, but no longer drop dead gorgeous. She had lost her figure but not her height and now looked less like a ravishing model then a gangly teenager. The loss of her perfect body and gorgeous appearance though destroyed her self confidence. She had hardly spoken since that time and would typically only answer direct questions.

After lunch the Special group had gym class in the yard. They all hated gym class to be sure but made certain to always be there on time. If they were late the gym teacher, Mr. Grant, would punish them in front of all the other girls. He was a sick and twisted bastard even considering that he was a gym teacher. So with an audible groan and along with twenty other girls they all entered the locker rooms and hurried to change for gym. Such humiliations had become their lot in life it seemed.

SPANKING THE TEACHER

SPANKING THE TEACHER
by Netsylph
(special thanks to Frankie for the great ideas)


It was a bright October day. The leaves left on the trees were full of
brilliant red and gold color. On such a lovely afternoon Ms. Amy White would
rather be doing almost anything but stay cooped up in this school. Yet here
she was. The 30 year old teacher was pretty, but her looks were more often
described as "cute," than beautiful. At 5'4" and lacking a terribly curvy
figure, she took pride in her slenderness. But she also realized her
youthful appearance made it hard for her to earn respect from others. Like
many other petite women her age, she affected a rather severe style of dress
to increase the maturity of her appearance. Her long sandy blonde hair was
always styled neatly in a bun atop her head. She wore reading glasses on the
end of her nose, although she didn't need them. She regularly wore heels to
artificially boost her height. And her conservative skirts and blouses
always seemed to make her look a bit older than her true age.

One of the few aspects she still loved about teaching was that she could
command the respect of her students. They called her "Ms. White," and could
be punished for failing to follow her strict code of classroom etiquette.
This didn't make her very well loved by them.

Judy Camden was particularly disturbed by Ms. White today. She was also the
reason Ms. White had to stay late. A student in Ms. White's English class,
she had earned herself detention by a progression of problems throughout the
term. None of the incidents in itself was terribly deserving of detention.
But Judy had a certain arrogant, manipulative manner that got under Ms.
White's skin and finally drove her to her breaking point. Today a minor
incident of talking in class had earned Judy a two hour detention.

So as this gorgeous fall afternoon turned to evening, Ms. White was now
cooped inside, sharing her student's penalty. The irony was not lost on her,
and it served to make her even more angry.

Judy was also not happy to be there. The high school junior was quite
popular and active. Her after school hours were some of her favorite for
socializing. Where Amy White was cute, Judy Camden was strikingly pretty.
She had developed into womanhood early. 5'5", long golden blonde hair and
wide blue eyes. She was an expert flirt and manipulator, and had little time
for school. She was naturally bright enough to get decent grades with little
effort anyway. And the thought that this prude of a teacher was singling her
out for detention made her inwardly fume.

Knowing she had little choice in the matter, Judy had entered Ms. White's
classroom shortly after the last class had departed. Dressed as she was in
the uniform of St. Anne's High School, she was the very image of the
innocent schoolgirl. Blue plaid skirt, white blouse, knee-high white socks
and penny-loafers, blonde hair in a ponytail tied with a white ribbon,
carrying a load of books held to her chest. She even made herself look
contrite and chastened as she entered the room, hoping her teacher would
take notice and decide to let her go. "I'm here Ms. White," she said in a
penitent tone.


Ms. White had looked up sternly, betraying not a hint of sympathy. "Close
the door, and sit in that desk, Judy" she said, pointing to the desk
directly in front of her own. With hardly more than a glance, she turned her
attention back to the papers she was grading.

So now Judy sat in the desk in an increasingly dark mood, staring icily at
the top of her teacher's head as she graded papers. Without even looking
up, Ms. White asked sharply, "Judy, don't you have some homework you should
be doing?"

Judy responded with a hint of annoyance, "No, Ms. White. I don't have any
homework today."

Ms. White grumbled inwardly, regretting that she had not given out homework
herself earlier. But she was behind in grading papers as it was. Still, when
she looked up, the sight of Judy sitting there seeming almost cocky,
casually filing her nails, made Ms. White fume. "Well stop filing your
nails. Sit there with your hands folded on your desk if you have no work to
do."

Judy caught a hint of a sneering smile from her teacher as she turned her
attention back to the papers she was grading. Grumbling silently to herself,
she put away her nail file and folded her hands on her desk. After about
five minutes of being totally ignored by her teacher, she was completely fed
up.

"Ms. White, can I go?" she asked her teacher in an annoyed tone.

Ms. White enjoyed seeing that the girl was at least feeling some discomfort
from her punishment. She decided to make her feel it even more.

"No Judy, you may not." She smiled arrogantly at the girl. "Since you find
sitting quietly so difficult, I'll give you something else to do. I want you
to take out some notebook paper and a pencil. You will write 500 lines. They
should read, 'I am a rude girl and need to learn better manners.'"

Judy flushed angrily at that. The day was beautiful, she was cooped up
inside away from her friends, and now she was supposed to give her hand a
cramp writing meaningless lines?! Something inside her snapped.

"No," she said.

The word resounded in the nearly empty room as if it had landed with a thud.
Neither of them said anything for a moment, each one seemingly stunned. When
the word finally sank in, Amy responded.

"I BEG your pardon, young lady?!" she asked, giving the student a chance to
retract it.

"I said NO," came the reply, even more loudly and distinctly than before.
Judy seemed energized by her new found resistance. She was giving Ms. White
a slightly sneering smile now. "That's an awful lot of words. No, I don't
think I will do that."

Ms. White looked coolly at the girl, through the glasses on the end of her
nose. Her response was as menacing as she could make it. "I don't care what
you THINK, you WILL write those lines!"

"Or what?!" Judy retorted, somehow finding her teacher's menacing tone easy
to ignore. "You'll give me detention?! I'm already here!" Judy now smiled
and sat back with her arms folded.

Ms. White's eyes grew wide, and her cheeks started to flush red. "Very well.
You can have an entire WEEK of detention!"

"You can make it an entire year, I don't think I'll be coming back here
tomorrow," Judy said. Her smug demeanor was infuriating Ms. White and she
loved it. "I'll stay my two hours, then I'm out of here."

Ms. White was almost too stunned by the girl's insolence to speak. All she
managed was, "Judy! Behave yourself!"

"Oh behave yourself!" Judy tossed back at her. "Stop being so uptight about
everything!"

Trying to regain control of her anger, and then her student, Judy tried to
calm herself. She stood up behind her desk and took a deep breath, before
saying in a sharp, clipped voice, "You WILL be here for the rest of the
week, and now it is one THOUSAND lines!"

"Oh why not make it a million lines? I'm not writing them." Judy replied,
completely unaffected.

"I will NOT be spoken to that way, young lady!" Ms. White said, her voice
cracking. She was looking increasingly distressed. Almost panicky, Judy
noticed.

Confidently smiling, Judy held up her pencil in a slow deliberate motion.
Ms. White's eyes were riveted to it, as if by some invisible force. With a
sharp motion, Judy snapped the pencil in two. "I will speak to you in any
way I please Ms. White."

Judy had no way of knowing that she was feeding into Ms. White's deepest
fear. That underneath her severe demeanor, Ms. White was desperately afraid
she would not be respected; that she would be taken no more seriously than a
child. It was almost a phobia in her case, and now, like a waking nightmare,
it was coming true. Stripped of the illusion of her authority, she couldn't
even get this 16 year old girl to respect her in her own classroom! She was
turning pale and starting to tremble.

All Judy knew was that she now had her hated teacher completely off-balance.
It was Judy who was running the show now. She decided she needed to keep
going before Ms. White had the chance to pull herself together.

Ms. White spoke haltingly now, "I... I will put this... on your record."

Judy laughed, and mocked, "Oh my! On my precious record? Oh no! Just what
will you put there Ms. White? That I won't write a thousand stupid lines?!"

Ms. Whites eyes widened. She was trembling more obviously now. Actually
looking afraid. She opened her mouth, but no words came out.

Judy laughed again at that, "You're quite the teacher, aren't you."

"Judy you... you listen up and behave this instant!" Ms. White said,
sounding more desperate than menacing.

Judy mimicked her in a sneering voice, "You listen up and behave this
instant!"

"That... That is enough out of you!" Ms. White said unsteadily.

"What's the matter Ms. White, don't know what to do next?" Judy teased.

"This is not a JOKE!" Ms. White cried, stomping her foot down for emphasis.

Judy stomped her foot right back. "Oh I'm so scared!" she teased.

Ms. White leaned on the desk for support now. She looked pale and
frightened. In a subdued voice, staring down at her desk, she threatened to
do worst thing she could think of, "I... I'll call your parents."

Now that was a real problem, Judy thought. Her parents would flip out if
they knew what she had done here today. But she knew from her teacher's
demeanor that she still had the upper hand. She didn't understand exactly
why her teacher was wavering like this, but she knew if she kept pushing her
this way she wouldn't have the presence of mind to even find a phone. Maybe
if she tried something even more outrageous...

"Hmm... I think I'll play with myself right in front of you. Maybe that will
relieve my boredom during this stupid detention." Judy didn't even know
where the idea had come from. She just blurted it out. But as she did she
watched the impact on her teacher and she knew it had worked.

Where Ms. White was pale before, she now turned almost white. Her eyes were
almost bulging out of her head as she looked up. "Wh.. WHAT did you say?!"

Judy spread her legs a little and teasingly began hiking up her skirt.
"Wanna watch me play with myself Ms. White?"

Ms. White's eyes were wide in a terrified look. But she seemed transfixed by
the student's hemline as it climbed higher and higher. "No!... J... Judy put
that skirt down!"

"Like this?" Judy teased, as she yanked the skirt higher, exposing her
panties.

"n.. NO!" Ms. White was almost in full panic now. "Judy stop it!"

"I think you like watching me like this, don't you Ms. White?" Judy teased
again, looking her teacher straight in the eyes as she lifted her skirt all
the way above her waist. "Why don't you do it too, Ms. White"

Ms. White closed her eyes as if she could wish this incident away. "N.. NO
Judy. I certainly will not!"

Judy loved how she could make her teacher's expressions turn from fear, to
shock, to surprise... she was making her a nervous wreck. All with a few
simple words and actions. She wondered what else she could make her do.

"Come out from behind that desk, Ms. White" Judy said, teasingly running a
finger across the front of her panties.

Ms. White's eyes opened at that. "Are.. are you telling ME what to do?"

Judy giggled and began unbuttoning her blouse. "Well you certainly aren't
very good at giving orders, now are you?"

"Judy... st.. stop undressing! this instant!" Ms. White's demands were
beginning to sound like pleas, even to her own ears.

Judy continued smiling as she gracefully slipped out of her blouse and set
in on the desk next to her.

"Stop Judy! Put your clothes back on!" Ms. White's voice was even trembling
now.

In a single graceful motion, Judy stood, unzipped her skirt and let it fall
to the floor. "You mean like this?" she asked in the same teasing tone. She
now taunted the teacher by her very boldness, stepping out of her skirt,
calmly picking it up and setting it next to her blouse. Wearing her bra,
panties, shoes and socks, she felt more in control than she had fully
clothed. And she suddenly realized why.

"You know Ms. White," she said with a smirk. "Maybe I'll report you for
trying to take advantage of me. In fact I might even scream right now and
tell them you made me take off my clothes."

"B... but I... I didn't..., " Ms. White was almost babbling now. Visions of
being fired or even arrested danced through her head. Her career would be
ruined. And no one would EVER respect a lesbian child molester. She watched
in frozen horror as Judy sauntered sexily over to the door. "P... Please,"
was all Ms. White could think to say, fully expecting the student to open
the door and scream. Knowing her career, even her life, would be ruined if
she did.

To her surprise, Judy locked the door, turned around and smiled. Without
another word she walked back to her desk, eyes glowing with a fiery purpose.

"Come out from behind the desk Ms. White, or should I say AMY!" the sound of
the scantily clad teen addressing her teacher by her first name drove
through Ms. White like a dagger.

The panic stricken teacher was almost whispering to herself as she replied,
"Ms. White. You're supposed to call me Ms. White."

"Oh dear I guess I'll have to scream after all," Judy said matter-of-factly.

"n.. NO!" cried her teacher.

"Then out from behind the desk AMY. NOW!!" Judy's voice resonated with
newfound authority, and she truly loved seeing her teacher scamper around
the desk in compliance.

Almost stumbling as she ran out from behind the desk, Ms. White was almost
beyond rational thought. All she could think of was what it would look like
if she was caught with a student in this state of undress. The door might be
locked, but the janitor had a key. "Judy, please... get dressed." There was
no force at all in her words now. It was clearly a plea.

"No Amy, I'm not getting dressed just yet. Now take off your shoes," she
ordered calmly.

"My... my shoes?" Amy was startled by the demand. She just looked at Judy as
if she didn't comprehend.

"NOW Amy! Or I'll scream," Judy said, without a hint of kidding in her
voice.

Amy almost fell, she was in such a hurry to remove her shoes. She quickly
got them off and dropped them next to her desk. Standing in her stocking
feet she was almost the same height as Judy. If anything she might be a bit
shorter. It further dug away at her sense of respect that she now had to
look slightly up at the cocky, half-nude teen.

"There! Judy, I did it. Now please get dressed." Amy almost begged.

Judy ignored her completely. "Now your blouse, please."

"M... my blouse?" Amy's mind didn't want to comprehend what she was being
asked to do. Her hands went protectively to the buttons, as if they could
hold them closed.

"Yes Amy. Take it off NOW, and put it on your desk." Judy replied calmly.

Amy started undoing her buttons, hardly even realizing she was doing it.
Judy smiled as she watched her fumble to get them undone, noticing her hands
were actually trembling. So much the better, thought Judy.

Amy now nervously played with the bottom of her blouse as she undid the last
button. Judy didn't give her time to think. "On the desk Amy!" she ordered
sharply.

Quick to respond, Amy pulled the blouse out of her skirt and slipped it over
her shoulders. She neatly set it behind her on the desk. Her tasteful cream
colored satin bra was now revealed, in obvious contrast to the innocent
white cotton of her student.

Judy's thumbs were inside her own panties now, preparing to pull them down,
as Judy turned back from the desk. "Judy no!" she cried. For some reason she
was even more panicked about the young girl pulling down her panties, than
she was from her standing in her underwear.

Judy smiled at the reaction. "Fine Amy, then take off that skirt and be
quick!" she said, leaving her hands in place, ready to yank her own panties
down without a moment's notice.

Amy's hands flew back and unzipped her skirt. She yanked it past her hips
and let it fall to the floor in no time. As she stepped out of it Judy
ordered, "Pick it up and put it with your blouse."

Amy bent over to pick up the skirt, "Please! Please Judy! Just get dressed
again!"

As she straightened with the skirt in her hand she saw Judy unhooking her
bra. "What are you staring at?! Put it on the desk I said!" she yelled.

Amy quickly set the skirt with her blouse, and turned around to see Judy
pulling her bra straps off her shoulders. She tossed her bra with her other
clothes, and covered her exposed breasts with her hands.

"Now take off those stupid pantyhose," she demanded.

"Judy please!" Amy said, trying to think of anything that would make her
stop. "This has gone far enough! Please get dressed!"

"I'm getting tired of your arguing. Do you want me to scream?" Judy said.
Outwardly, she looked like she meant it. Inwardly she knew she wouldn't ruin
this moment for the world. Here she was, wearing only her panties, socks and
shoes, ordering around a woman almost twice her age! And a teacher in her
own school no less! The thrill was unbelievable.

But all Amy thought about was someone coming to the door, seeing her student
and herself almost naked together. What would they think?! It could NOT be
explained away. "No! No please Judy! Look! I'm taking off my pantyhose now.
Please don't scream!" Amy quickly rolled the pantyhose off her legs and set
them with her blouse and skirt. Judy kicked off her own shoes and pulled off
her socks as she did.

"Very nice undies, Amy," Judy remarked, enjoying Amy's blush. "Kind of
mature, but sexy. Take them off now. The bra, then the panties."

Amy couldn't even look Judy in the eye anymore. She stared at the floor as
she quickly unhooked her bra and set it behind her. She immediately pulled
off her panties, also setting them on the desk behind her. She folded her
arms to cover her breasts, trying to preserve any sense of modesty or
dignity she could muster.

Judy looked at her humiliated teacher. Stripped of her clothing. Stripped of
her authority. She wasn't really anything special at all anymore.
Physically, she was actually slightly smaller than Judy. And now for the
real test of her newfound power.

"Amy look at me!" Judy said, causing her teacher to look up into her
student's half-mocking face. "I want you to see something fun."

With Amy looking on, Judy turned her back, playfully looking over her
shoulder. Slowly she bent over, until her bottom was sticking straight out,
and her head almost rested on her desk. She put her fingers under the
waistband of her panties and teasingly started pulling them off.

"N.. no! Please don't Judy!" Amy exclaimed. Judy simply ignored her.

Soon her panties were around her ankles. She stepped out of them and tossed
them onto the pile with the rest of her clothes. She remained in her bent
over position. Her firm young buttocks thrust out almost impudently.

"Do you think I have a cute butt, Amy?" Judy asked. She enjoyed the blush
Judy gave as she watched her over her shoulder.

"Judy.. we... we can't be naked like this.., " Amy sputtered

"Shut up and answer my question!" Judy demanded sharply. "Is this a cute
butt?" She wiggled it playfully.

"I.. I.. don't know," Amy stuttered. "I suppose.. yes... yes it is."

"Very good Amy," Judy replied. "Now watch it carefully."

Judy reached her right hand behind her, and slapped her right buttock
playfully with her hand. "Ouch!" she feigned her response. "I'm such a bad
girl, aren't I Amy."

Amy was totally flustered. Her response came out like nonsense. "I.. I
don't.. what are you?..."

Judy spanked herself playfully again. "Ouch! A bad, bad girl!" Judy gave
herself a few more playful spanks, watching her flustered teacher over her
shoulder. "And bad girls should be punished, shouldn't they Amy?"

Amy now looked on in open mouthed silence. Judy quickly grew impatient.

"Answer me Amy!" she demanded. "Shouldn't bad girls be punished?"

"y... Yes Judy," she blurted. "But.. but I... "

Judy smiled as she straightened up and picked up her pile of clothes. She
tossed them to Amy. "Glad you agree. Put these on"

Amy caught the clothes by reflex as they landed in her arms. She looked down
at them without comprehension. "But... these are... your clothes, Judy. "

"I SAID put them on!" Judy said forcefully, brushing past her teacher and
grabbing the clothes Amy had left on the desk behind her.

Judy took a few steps away and began putting on Amy's clothes. Amy still
didn't understand what was going on, but she was happy that they were
finally going to be clothed again. As she saw Judy clasp her own bra into
place, she began sliding her student's white cotton panties up her legs. The
idea that they had been worn moments ago by Judy was less distasteful too
her than her continued nudity. After she had her new bra and panties in
place, she began to balk. She looked over at Judy, already buttoning Amy's
blouse on herself.

"Judy this dress up game is... silly," she said. So as not to upset the
girl, she continued dressing herself anyway. Now she was buttoning Judy's
white uniform blouse on herself.

Judy simply ignored her, quickly finishing with her blouse, she slid the
skirt up her legs, already encased in Amy's pantyhose.

Amy stared at her for a moment as she buttoned up the uniform blouse. But
seeing she was not going to get a response, and not wanting to provoke the
girl, she simply proceeded dressing.

She slid the blue plaid skirt up her legs and secured it in place, neatly
tucking the blouse inside. With a zip and a button she finally felt dressed
again. She looked up to see Judy putting on her shoes. It was a bit of a
squeeze for her, but their feet were only a half size apart. Amy leaned over
and pulled Judy's white knee socks into place on her legs. When she
finished, she slipped on Judy's penny loafers. Half a size too big, they
slipped on easily.

She straightened again to see Judy smiling at her, arms folded across her
chest. Judy looked her over carefully.

"Yes... yes I think we're almost there, Amy" she said quizzically. She
walked a half circle around her teacher, examining her with only her eyes.
"Something is missing. Oh I know!" Judy said excitedly.

Without a word of notice, she reached over and took the reading glasses off
the end of Amy's nose. She quickly put them on herself with a smile.

"Judy! I.. I need those!" Amy exclaimed, though it wasn't true. The glasses
made her look older, so she liked them.

"What do you think Amy? Do I look like a teacher?" Judy asked with a large
smile.

Amy simply stared at her. She couldn't begin to find the words to express
herself now. She was totally confused. Not knowing what Judy was doing or
why. She saw a sixteen year old girl, wearing her own clothes and glasses.
She just wanted to go home and forget about this whole afternoon.

"Oh I know what the problem is!" Judy exclaimed, in an excited sense of
discovery. She reached up over her head and removed the ribbon holding her
hair in the ponytail. Toying with the ribbon, she walked over to Amy.

"Turn around, Amy," she demanded. Amy looked down at the ribbon, then up
into Judy's eyes, and slowly turned around.

With expert hands, Judy pulled the pins holding Amy's hair in the bun atop
her head. Judy instructed her to shake it out, which she did. Then Amy felt
Judy's hands tying her hair back up, a bit differently. When Judy was
finished she told Amy to turn back around.

Amy gasped when she saw Judy now. She had put her own hair back in a bun. A
bit sloppier than Amy's own had been, but the effect was the same. With
Amy's reading glasses on the end of her nose she looked...

"Well Amy? Do I look like a teacher?" she asked, smiling almost
triumphantly.

"y... Yes. Yes you do Judy," Amy said.. meaning it, and feeling confused.
She reached up to her own hair, and found it was tied into a ponytail with
Judy's white ribbon.

"Leave that alone Amy!" Judy ordered. Amy's hand instantly dropped to her
sides. "Now don't you look cute in that little plaid skirt."

"E... enough games. Please Judy!" Amy said sounding as helpless as she felt.

"You will call me Ms. Camden! Is that clear?" Judy said, really getting into
her new position now.

Amy continued to delight Judy by the many ways she could show surprise and
shock. She simply stood now, her open mouth emitting no sound. Amy's mind
was awash in emotion. The humiliating reality of what was going on suddenly
hit her all at once. This was no "dress up game." Her student had forced her
to trade places with her. Now Amy was expected to act as the schoolgirl, and
expected to treat her own student as her teacher!

Judy was ecstatic! Her once proud teacher now looked every bit the chastised
schoolgirl. She enjoyed the confusion and embarrassment that washed over her
face as Amy struggled with her realization. Not waiting for a response, Judy
pressed further. "Now let's see how YOU like being talked down to! You go to
that blackboard right now and start writing 'I am a bad girl who needs some
manners.'"

Her teacher looked sharply to the blackboard and then back at Judy. Her
mouth was comically still hanging open. She started to bluster, "I.. i..
CAN'T!"

"Oh yes you CAN!" Judy snapped. She walked over and grabbed Amy firmly by
the arm. With a sharp tug, she spun her around facing the blackboard. The
teacher was like putty in her hands, Judy thought. Offering no resistance at
all as Judy marched her to the blackboard.

"J... Judy please! You're hurting me!" Amy cried as Judy gripped her arm
tightly.

Placing her teacher directly in front of the blackboard, Judy stood directly
behind her and whispered sharply in her ear, "What did I tell you to call
me?"

"M.. m.. Ms. Camden!" Amy blurted out.

"You'd better remember that!" she hissed in Amy's ear before stepping back.
"Now pick up the chalk and WRITE!!"

Amy's hand trembled as she reached for the chalk. How many times had she
stood before her class writing with this very chalk on this very board. Yet
now it was totally different. All her usual confidence was gone. She felt
like she was about to cry as her shaking fingers closed around the chalk and
brought it up to the board.

Judy paced impatiently behind her teacher, pretending to be angry, but
secretly thrilled. Would she actually write those embarrassing words on her
own blackboard?! She almost couldn't believe it!

Amy set the chalk to the blackboard very slowly. She could feel the presence
of Judy (or "Ms. Camden" she reminded herself), pacing behind her. She
couldn't bring herself to write the words. The chalk just sat idly on the
board for a few tense moments.

Judy thought this might be it. Amy might regain her composure and call
Judy's bluff. She watched Amy hold the chalk to the board with a slight
sense of trepidation. Then Amy slowly turned her head back over her
shoulder. The sad face seemed near tears, and Judy knew she had won! Anyone
walking into the room now would not even question that the girl at the
chalkboard was nothing more than a naughty schoolgirl being punished. When
Judy heard the words tumble out of her teacher's mouth she knew for sure.

"M.... Ms. Camden! p...Please!" she said in a quaking voice.

Judy tried to remain stern looking, hiding the glee from her face. "Please,
what?" she snapped back.

"P... please? Let's stop now?" Real tears were welling up in her eyes as she
addressed her own student like a penitent girl.

"If you want to complain, I'll give you something to complain about!" Judy
shot back. She quickly strode over to the classroom's equipment closet.
Opening the door, she took out a solid wood yardstick. Turning to Amy with a
smile, she slapped the ruler lightly against her hand.

Amy quickly turned back to the board in a panic. The words started spilling
from the chalk she held. "I am a bad girl who needs some manners... I am a
bad girl who needs some manners... I am a bad girl who needs some
manners..."

Judy smiled approvingly, continuing to slap the ruler lightly against her
hand as she walked back behind her "student." She watched as an entire
section of the board was filled with the embarrassing words. Twenty lines so
far.

"You can fit more lines in than that, Amy," Judy observed critically. "Get
on your tiptoes as you start that next section."

"Y.. yes Ms. Camden," Amy responded meekly. She reached as high up the board
as she could, standing on her tiptoes writing the next line.

"You know, Amy," Judy remarked casually as she paced closely behind Amy. "I
think there is only one thing that will make you a better girl."

Amy continued writing, her fear of her student seeming to increase with
every word from her mouth.

"Do you know what I'm going to do now, Amy?" Judy asked. Amy could almost
hear the wide smile in her voice.

"N.. no Ms. Camden," she replied. The chalk shook in her fingers a bit as
she continued to write. (.. "I am a bad girl who needs some manners...")

Judy stopped her pacing directly behind Amy. She placed her hand on Amy's
bottom, and rubbed it for a moment through the skirt. She waited a moment
for the implication to sink in.

Amy's eyes shot open wide when she realized what Judy implied. "N... NO! Not
that! Look... I.. I'm writing my lines Ms. Camden!" Amy began writing
frantically, faster than she ever had before. ("I am a bad girl who needs
some manners.. I am a bad girl who needs some manners... I am a bad gi...")

Judy had to stifle a laugh as she saw her once feared teacher frantically
writing such an embarrassing thing, terrified of her own classroom
yardstick. She forced herself to sound serious again. "Up on your toes again
Amy.. right NOW!"

Was that a whimper she heard as her teacher stretched her legs up onto her
toes? It sure sounded like it, Judy thought. "Now lift your skirt with your
free hand Amy."

"Oh.. please Ms. Camden! I'll be good!" Amy almost squealed.

"Are you arguing with me Amy?" Judy asked, making it just as patronizing as
anything her teacher had said in the past.

"N.. No Ms. Camden," Amy replied in a tiny voice. God! She even sounds like
a kid now! Judy thought to herself. Amy's left hand shook as it found the
hem of her plaid skirt, and slowly started to lift it.

"Higher Amy!" Judy ordered impatiently.

Impatiently, Judy walked forward and whisked the skirt up herself, exposing
all of the white cotton panties her teacher now wore. Judy relished the
sight for a moment, before bringing the yardstick cracking down across her
pantied behind. CRACK!!

"OW!!" Amy gave a startled cry and pressed forward into the blackboard,
futilely attempting to avoid the yardstick's next blow.

"You're such a bad girl!" Judy taunted. "Stick that cute little bottom out
farther. RIGHT NOW!"

Amy actually started to cry, encouraging Judy further. "Come on! DO IT!!"
she yelled.

Amy stuck her bottom out, presenting her tormentor with an inviting target
for the next blow. It wasn't long in coming.

CRACK!! "Who gave you permission to stop writing?!" Judy demanded as she
brought the yardstick crashing down again across Amy's already fiery bottom.
CRACK!!

"I'm s. s.. SORRY Ms. Camden!!" Amy hurriedly resumed her writing, the
letters a bit messier now as she began to cry in earnest.

CRACK!! CRACK!! Down fell the yard stick again and again. Amy began to sob,
but dared not stop writing.

"Stop that sniveling!" Judy ordered.

"p.. p.. PLEASE Ms. Camden!... that REALLY hurts!" Amy blubbered.

"Turn around and look at me!" Judy demanded.

Amy tried to make herself stop crying, but the tears kept falling. The
embarrassment was causing them as much as any pain. Amy simply couldn't
stop them once they'd started. She turned around staring at the floor, not
able to meet Judy's eyes anymore.

"You're blubbering over just a few little smacks!" Judy said disgustedly.
"Do you know what I think?"

".. N.. no Ms. Camden," Amy replied meekly, beginning to control her
tears.

"I think you're faking it! Trying to make me feel sorry for you so I'll let
you go." Judy said, taking Amy's chin in her hand and forcing her to look up
into her eyes. The look on Amy's face was priceless, Judy thought.

"n. NO Ms. Camden! I.. I'm NOT!" she said, looking and feeling more panic
and fear.

"Do you know what I do to liars and pretenders Amy?" Judy asked.

" I'm NOT LYING Ms. Camden! I swear!" Amy exclaimed as her fear grew.

Judy set the yardstick down and pulled Amy's straight backed chair away from
her desk, into the open floor. She casually sat herself in it, looking up
only after straightening her skirt. The gaze she gave Amy was piercing and
merciless. She patted her knee.

"Get over my lap, Amy. I'm going to spank you like the bad little girl you
are!" Judy said very calmly.

Amy felt so helpless and lost. Her knees grew week at the very mention of
getting such a spanking. The intense humiliation of being dressed as her own
student, stripped of her authority, and punished had driven beyond herself
already. This pushed her even farther over the edge. She immediately started
crying again.

"M.. m....Ms. Camden PLEASE!! I.. I'm your.. your teacher.. you.. you
CAN'T!" Amy's cries alternated between meek and soft, and panicked and loud.

As her teachers fresh tears started to flow down her cheeks, Judy knew she
could easily pull the woman over her lap. But she wanted to make Amy bend
over it herself. Not even in the back of her mind could there be any doubt
that she had a choice. Judy was in charge now. Amy would bend over her lap
because she SAID Amy would bend over her lap.

"Let's go Amy," she said, her voice actually growing gentler now. "Lift your
skirt and climb over my lap. Bad girls get punished, don't they?"

As Judy's voice softened, Amy found she wanted to agree with her. Her
instinct told her to make sure she kept Judy happy. Not to risk making her
angry again. She nodded her head.

"And you were a bad girl, weren't you Amy?" Judy continued in her soft
reasonable tone.

Amy wanted to agree... but couldn't agree... she wrestled with her thoughts
as her tears continued. She started to shake her head "No." She couldn't
agree that she was a "bad girl!" She was a grown woman!

"Amy!" Judy's tone grew harder and more menacing. Almost without knowing she
was doing it, Amy began to nod her head. Yes. Yes she was a bad girl.

Judy smiled in approval. "Very good Amy. Now lift your skirt," the kind,
softer voice was back.

Amy slowly reached down and lifted her skirt, exposing white cotton panties
that weren't even her own. Yet they seemed so much more appropriate for her
now. The panties of a girl, not a woman, worn by a bawling girl in a pony
tail and plaid skirt.

Judy didn't say anything more. She simply patted her knee. Amy paused to
take one more breath, then began bending over. Her tears flowed so freely
now, but as she laid across the warm lap of her onetime student, something
felt right about her being in this position. This was who she was. Amy
White. Frightened girl. All the rest had been a show. A fraud. Her slow
realization was liberating her. Making her reaction to the situation
surprisingly genuine.

She sniffled a little as Judy gently pulled the panties down to her knees.
She knew what was coming. But she began to accept it. At least, until Judy's
hand came thundering down on her already sore bottom.

WHACK!! "You are a.., " WHACK!! "bad girl, Amy!" WHACK!! WHACK!! "And I am
going to..," WHACK!! "teach you a lesson...," WHACK!! WHACK!! "you
won't...," WHACK!! "soon forget!" WHACK!! WHACK!! WHACK!!

Over and over Judy's hand crashed down on Amy's tender bottom. At first Amy
tried to be brave. She bit her lip and tried not to cry out. But as her
tender buttocks turned deeper and deeper pink, her legs started to kick, and
she began to sob loudly.

"Stop that kicking!!" Judy ordered.

Amy tried to stop, but couldn't help it on the harder blows. She was sobbing
hard, and her tears fell in pools on the floor.

"P... P.. PLEASE m..m..Ms. C.. Camden!!" she begged through her sobs. "N..
no more!! I'll be good!"

WHACK!! WHACK!! The blows continued relentlessly as Judy continued to
lecture. "I told you...," WHACK!! SMACK!! "that you are a...," WHACK!!
SMACK!! "very, very...." WHACK!! "bad girl!" WHACK!! WHACK!! SMACK!! "And
that..." WHACK!! "bad girls..." WHACK!! WHACK!! "get punished!!" WHACK!!

Amy begged and blubbered. "I'm s..s..SORRY!! I'm.. s..s.. soooo.. SORRRY!!"

WHACK!! WHACK!! "Who is in charge of this classroom?!" Judy demanded.
WHACK!! SMACK!! "Who is the teacher here?!" SMACK!! WHACK!! WHACK!!

"y..y.. You are!!" Amy blubbered back.

SMACK!! SMACK!! "And what is my name?"

"j.. j.., " Amy began, only to feel the spankings double in speed and
strength. "MS... MS. CAMDEN!!" She shouted out.

WHACK! WHACK!! "And who is the bad girl here?"

"M..m..ME!!" Amy sobbed.

WHACK!! SMACK!! "And don't you forget it!" SMACK!!

Finally, Amy's bottom a bright shade of red, Judy stopped. She let the
sobbing teacher lie across her lap a few moments more. Judy herself was out
of breath from all the energy she'd put into the spanking. But she felt more
alive then she ever had before. Amy's sobs were muffled as she buried her
face in her hands and cried. Judy gently ran her hand across the sore bottom
of the women she had almost feared only an hour ago. She caught her own
breath and noticed how meekly Amy accepted her touch, only wincing a few
times when a particularly sore area was reached. It was an intimate moment.
Any doubt of who was in charge now had been wiped away.

Finally Judy spoke. "Up off my lap now, Amy," she said calmly.

Instantly, Amy responded. Scrambling up from Judy's lap, she reached down to
pull her panties up.

"Leave them down, Amy," Judy ordered. Amy's hands instantly retracted
without protest.

"Now march yourself over to the corner," Judy pointed to the very corner Amy
herself had used in the past to embarrass unruly students. Now, walking
awkwardly as the panties around her knees restricted her stride, she ambled
over to the corner without a word of objection. She knew from her own use of
the corner as punishment that she was to face into the corner without a
word.

"Hold that skirt UP, Amy," Judy said as Amy reached the corner. "Don't make
me get the yardstick again."

Amy quickly pulled the skirt up high, exposing her bright red buttocks. Her
sobs turned to sniffles as she stood obediently in silence.

Judy sat back in her chair, admiring her own handiwork for a while. Only
once did Amy's tired arms begin to lower her skirt, and one quick SLAP from
the yardstick had corrected that. Other than that, Judy simply picked up a
magazine and read it at her teacher's desk, leaving Amy standing in silence,
not bothering to tell her how long it might last. An entire hour went by.
Then a bit more.

Finally five o'clock rolled around. Judy set down her magazine. "Five
O'clock Amy," she said, as if it should be meaningful. "I believe YOUR
detention was to last two hours today, is that correct."

Amy was startled, being spoken to after such a long period of silence. She
cleared her throat before speaking, "y... Yes Ms. Camden."

"Well drop your skirt and pull up your panties," Judy said patronizingly.
"Hurry up, I have things to do today."

Amy scrambled to pull her panties into place and smooth down her skirt.

Judy walked up closely behind her. Amy was smart enough to realize she
hadn't actually been given permission to leave the corner yet, so stayed
where she was, still facing the corner.

"Have we learned our lesson today, Amy?" Judy asked in a tone between
concern and teasing.

"Yes, Ms. Camden," Amy replied sincerely, in a small voice.

"And do you want to have another detention with me?" Judy continued.

"No... No, Ms. Camden," Amy replied with the appropriate fear.

"Very good Amy," Judy said, as if speaking to a small girl. "Then you may
leave the corner. Gather up your things and go home now.

Amy turned, no longer crying but clearly chastened. She found that she
couldn't bring herself to look into Judy's eyes anymore. But Judy was
ignoring her anyway now as she gathered up her own things. Quickly Judy
began walking for the door.

"M.. Ms Camden?!" Amy called out in a nervous tone. "M...my clothes!"

Judy smiled confidently as she looked back at her teacher. Dressed now in
the uniform of a schoolgirl, with the addition of her nervous attitude,
blushing face and tone of voice, it now seemed impossible to think of her as
anything else. It would be a shame to break this lovely image, Judy thought.

"I think you look fine just the way you are, Amy," Judy said. "I have plenty
of uniforms at home, so you keep that one. Every time you're tempted to be a
bad girl again, maybe a look at it will remind you to behave."

"B.. But Ms. Camden... how will I.. get home?" Amy exclaimed, lip beginning
to quiver again.

"Almost everyone has gone by now, Amy," Judy explained. "And believe me, the
way you look now no one will think you're a teacher here. Just walk to your
car, explaining to anyone who asks that you were kept late for detention."

"Ms Camden!" Amy pleaded.

"Goodbye, Amy," Judy said as she turned and walked out the door.

"Th.. thank you." Amy whispered under her breath after the student had left.

THE END  

Sneaking Home: A Thanksgiving Story

Sneaking Home: A Thanksgiving Story

Sneaking Home
By Goodgulf


        "But I have to get home." Susan exclaimed.

        "But I don't have the money to lend you." Valerie answered.

        "Lend? I'm not looking for a loan." Susan replied. "I'm just asking you to pay me back the money I lent you."

        "Well I don't have that money either." Valerie said with a shake of her hair. "I don't have any money at all."

        "But you said you would pay me back." Susan whined. "You promised."

        "I know I did, but I don't have the money. I just don't."

        "But I have to get home for Thanksgiving and I don't even have enough for a bus ticket." Susan whined, sounding more like a petulant 12-year-old than the university student she was. "I can't even afford a one way ticket for six hour bus ride home."
        "Well that's good then." Valerie noted. "Because a round trip ticket costs more and if you can't afford to get back here you'd have to drop out."

        "Duh! I can get more money at home." Susan said, rolling her eyes. "But I have to get home first."

        "Well can't you get a drive from someone?" Valerie suggested.

        "Not without blowing a real creep, and I'm not doing that." Susan answered. "I mean, if I did that I might as well be selling it on the street."

        "Or working for Holly's service, not that I ever would." Valerie added quickly. "But I hear her girls make $200 a 'date'."

        "While Holly rakes in $300 for taking the phone call. Not that I've ever talked to her about that." Susan added that last bit just as quickly as Valerie had. "But you hear things, and if you're doing the work why should someone else make more. Anyway, there's no way I could set something like that up in time to make enough for a plane ticket."

        "Thought we were talking about the bus." Valerie pointed out.

        "We were, but if I was thinking of putting out it would have to be for airfare, not a drive in a heap of shit car or a ride on the bus. But since I'm not even thinking of that it's irrelevant. So how am I getting home?"

        Valerie thought for a moment, which was a novel experience for her (something that was reflected in her grades). Then she brightened.

        "Hey, I've got a great idea! And it will totally work! I saw it in this movie."

        "Which movie?" Susan asked cautiously, not wanting to risk a crazy scheme.

        "Oh, some old one. The Miner is a Major... No, there wasn't a coal mine in it, so maybe it was the Major and the Minor. It was something like that. Anyway, it was a boring old one but I was too drunk to change the channel and by the time I sobered up enough I was kind of into it."

        "You've got drinking money but nothing to pay me back with?" Susan demanded indignantly.

        "Oh, grow up. You know I never pay for my own drinks." Valerie said, adding a flip of her hair. "Anyway, there was this woman who had to get home, but didn't have the money for a train ticket."

        "Yeah? Well I've got less because I don't have enough for the bus."

        "It was an old movie. I think it's was black and white, or the colour was going out again."

        Susan nodded. The entire dorm was 'borrowing' cable from the one person who paid for it, and sometimes (when there were too many sets on) it went weird.

        "Anyway, she didn't have enough for ticket, so she pretended she was 12 and she got on for the children's price." Valerie continued.

        Susan gave her friend a hard look.

        "Do I look 12?" Susan asked rhetorically.

        "Well the one in the movie didn't really look 12 either, but she dressed young and kept chanting nursery rhymes and stuff like that. She claimed to have some sort of gland problem and that sort of thing."

        "And it worked?"

        "Of course it did, only, well, it was a movie."

        "So it wouldn't work in real life?" Susan asked.

        "Well it could." Valerie insisted. "Why not? You just get someone to buy the ticket for you and act young. And it’s not like you have a choice."

        Susan considered her options: paying for a drive home in the backseat of that creep’s car was out, and so was trying to get in contact with Holly. That left a risky plan. Susan didn't like her choice, but it was the only one she had.

        "So how do we make me look young?" Susan asked.


        Stage one, buying the ticket, worked. Valerie poised as Susan’s big sister sending her to the grandparents for the holidays. Susan felt ridiculous standing without a touch of makeup with tight undershirt flattening her breasts and her plainest T-shirt under it. Her hair was in pigtails, and Susan winced at what her hairdresser would say the next time she saw her. As for her skirt, it was way too high to wear only socks and the most boring panties she had (the ones she bought for that exercise class she had meant to go to) under it, but little girls didn’t wear stockings.

        Stage two, getting on the bus, worked just as well. Once more Valerie made a big deal about how Susan was going to visit her grandparents, completely overacting the role. Susan thought her friend's performance had jumped the shark as Valerie invented dialogue.

        "Now Sis, remember to be good or else grandpa might take you to the woodshed again. I know you think you’re too old for that, but grandpa won’t.” Valerie cautioned. "I know because when I was your age he didn't think I was too old."

        "Oh, I'm sure he won't even think of doing that." Susan replied, blushing at the way Valerie was overacting.

        "That's what I thought when I was your age. I was wrong too." Valerie smirked.

        Then Valerie was loading Susan on to the bus and giving Susan's ticket to the bored driver.

        Susan climbed aboard the bus and found a seat, and prepared herself for the most difficult part - phrase four. Susan knew it would be stretch, but she had to act like a twelve year old for the entire ride.

        One thing that neither Susan or Valerie had considered that this was no longer the 1940s. Train conductors had been conscientious employers who cared about the 'honour' of their train and defended their company from any attempt to defraud it. On the other hand, bus drivers were underpaid and didn't care about anything except getting paid for their shift. One might notice that there was an unaccompanied minor, or one might not, but they certainly didn't care if someone should be using a half price or full price ticket.

        But Susan never considered any of that. Susan had been coached by Valerie who had watched that movie again and had all sorts of antics at her fingertips. She coloured in a book, she complained loudly about little things, she kicked the seat in front of her, and generally made sure that everyone on the bus knew that she was just a kid. Susan had considered acting as a well behaved child, considered and rejected it; Susan knew that no one noticed a well behaved child and she had to be noticed as a child for the plan to work.

        And noticed she was. First by the people beside her, then by all those within four rows, and finally almost everyone on the bus knew that there was an unaccompanied kid on the bus. One who kicked seats, threw things, raced back and forth to the bathroom, and otherwise made a spectacle of herself.

        Susan thought of it as a job well done, but the rest of the riders on the bus thought of her as a real and total brat. Even the bus driver was vaguely aware of her presence.


        Near the halfway point of their six hour journey things came to a head when they stopped at a rest stop. Susan thought of it as a relief; the bus had a bathroom, but it smelled and Susan didn't want to even think of using it.

        There was a restaurant attached to the rest stop, but it was a truck stop style one rather than a fast food outlet. Looking at it, Susan wished she had more cash. She knew she might be able to afford a small fries or something at a fast food place, but had no idea how much things would cost at that roadside diner. Putting food outside of her thoughts, Susan headed to the free-standing restrooms, passing through a small anteroom on her way to the facilities.

        When she emerged from the stall Susan felt better than she had since the start of her journey, and felt better still once she washed up and splashed some water on her face.

        'I'll stretch my legs a bit until the bus is ready to go.' Susan decided. 'Maybe I'll even skip. Do 12-year-olds skip?'

        Susan headed outside, but when she reached the anteroom she found her way blocked by three bulky women. She was about to deliver her patented "You've let yourself go and I'm still in my prime" look, when she remembered that she was supposed to be too young to know about a look like that. So instead she smiled brightly and declared: "You're in my way."

        "Do you know who I am?" Snapped one of the women. "You should. You've been kicking the back of seat for the past three hours."

        "Really? You should have said something." Susan said with a smile.

        "I did." The woman snapped. "But you ignored me."

        "And I'm the woman who's had to tell her kids that they shouldn't be like you." Announced another of the women.

        "As for me, I'm your worst nightmare." The third declared.

        "You're the crazy donkey that hides in my closet?" Susan asked innocently.

        "No." The third women said firmly. "I'm the one that's sitting at the front of the bus. I'm the one that heard your sister warn you about how your grandparents will take behaviour of this type. So I'm the one that will be standing next to your side when your grandparents pick you up. And I'll be telling them all about your juvenile misbehaviour on this bus trip."

        Susan blanched. If these women waited for her grandparents to show up then they would learn that there weren't any grandparents, and then Susan might be arrested for defrauding the bus company.

        The three women smiled at Susan's discomfort.

        "That's right." Gloated the third woman. "You're going to be starting this visit with a trip to the woodshed."

        "Um, could you not do that? Please?" Susan asked with an innocent grin.

        "What, you're afraid of starting your visit on the wrong foot?" Asked the woman whose seat Susan had been kicking. She gave Susan a broad smile, and Susan winced at that smile.

        "Um, it's just... Please don't tell them?" Susan squeaked. "Please."

        "So it's like that then." Smirked the third woman.

        "Um, like what?" Susan asked.

        "You're old enough to know that if something like that happens at the start of a visit it's just going to keep on happening." The third woman informed Susan with a smile. "When something like that happens on the first day then any little misstep, the slightest bit of lip, and it's back to the woodshed with you."

        "Um, well, um, it's just, well, couldn't you just not tell them?" Susan pleaded.

        "You mean let you get away with acting that way?" Asked the woman whose seat Susan had spent hours kicking.

        "Or handle your behaviour ourselves?" Probed the woman who had been forced to caution her children not to act like Susan.

        "Um, yeah." Susan answered, agreeing with the first woman.

        The three women exchanged looks, then advanced on Susan.

        "Um, well, um..." Susan gulped. "What are you doing?"

        "What you said." Grinned the woman whose seat Susan had been kicking.

        "Handling this ourselves." Clarified the woman who had been forced to caution her own children.

        "But I meant the part about not telling my ... Let go!"

        Susan couldn't believe what was happening. Working together three of them had no problem controlling her, and soon Susan was squawking as she was held over the lap of the woman who had been forced to caution her child.

        "Stop! What are you doing?"

        "Taking you in hand." The woman said as she brought her hand down hard on the seat of Susan's skirt.

        Susan yelled for help, but no one came. The only time she had ever been in a position like this had been at a drunken party, and then it had been as a joke. Susan hadn't liked it much then and she hated it now. But now no one was listening to her when she demanded they stop. Or when she asked them to stop. Or when she pleaded them to stop.

        Susan was kicking her legs, but she wasn't crying. She wouldn't give them the satisfaction of crying.

        "This is taking too long." Complained the woman who had overheard Valerie's comments about the woodshed. "Try this. Go on, or the bus will be leaving and we'll be still be doing this."

        Susan craned her head around and caught a glimpse of hairbrush being passed over her back.

        "What the fuck are you planning to..." Susan's demand for information was cut short by the impact of the brush on her backside.

        The first whack echoed through the anteroom. Susan's shriek chased after it, and the shrieks kept coming. Then came the tears. Susan fought as long as she could, but she couldn't keep them inside forever and that awful brush found them.

        "That's better." Smirked the woman whose seat had been kicked.

        Susan hoped that those words would bring an end to things, but they didn't. That awful brush kept raising and falling. Soon tears were flowing down her face as she let go of every ounce of self control she had. Crying and kicking, she acted like the child she claimed to be.


        When the awful spanking ended, Susan kept crying. Then the bus driver was honking the horn and three women were steering Susan back to the bus.

        Susan tried to sit and forget what happened, but her bum was hurting too much.


        When the bus finally pulled to a stop, Susan was one of the last people off the bus. She gathered her luggage and headed to the bathroom to restore her mature appeared, but when she got in there she couldn't help looking at herself in the mirror. With her hair in pigtails and tears marks and snot on her face she had to admit that she looked like a little who had just gotten a hard spanking.

        Then Susan washed her face, and disappeared into a stall with her overnight bag. When she left her pigtails were gone and her clothes no longer put lie to her age. She went to the mirror and tried her best to repair her hair, but knew that her hairdresser would want to kill her for the damage she had done to it.

        Still fighting a limp, Susan went to call a friend for a ride home. As she waited for her friend to arrive, Susan made a vow to herself.

        "Next time I'll buy a return ticket and keep it safe." Susan promised himself. "I'll never try that half price ticket again. Even if I have to work for Holly to afford a ticket."