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About Carisbrooke

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  1. Sir is waiting in the large, oak-lined library, waiting for the student to report to him, as requested. She comes in, standing in her uniform: bottle-green blazer, white blouse, school tie, grey, pleated, knee-length skirt and long grey socks. “You wanted to see me, Sir” she says. “I did, young lady, and do you know why I have summoned you here?” “No, Sir. I have no idea.” “Well, while I was re-arranging these library books that you see all around you, one fell on the floor, a copy of the Venerable Bede's Ecclesiastical History of the English People.” Sir continues, “Is that ringing any bells with you?” “No, Sir” is her reply. “Well, let me enlighten you. I picked up this precious book, an historically important book, and as I flicked through the pages, I was appalled to discover rude words written in the margins of many pages.” She shuffles a little on her feet but maintains an air of insouciance. “The handwriting is yours” Sir states. “Don't try to look all innocent, I've written ‘See me!’ on your homework enough times to recognise your handwriting at a glance.” “Oh God! I can't believe he knew it was my handwriting!” are her thoughts. “Yes, Sir. I’m sorry, Sir” are her words as she stares down uncomfortably at her feet. "I am also appalled that you know such words. Shameful." She continues to look down at the floor, Sir puts his hand under her chin and raises her head. "You will look at me when I am talking to you. Go and stand over there behind that chair." She slowly walk over to the chair, wondering what is in store for her. She has a quick glance around and cannot see the cane anywhere. “My legs are shaking but I cannot see his cane anywhere. He is well-known for the severity of his canings!” she thinks to herself. She stands behind the chair. "Bend over and place your hands flat on the seat of the chair” Sir instructs. She does so, slowly, her breath quickening and heart pounding. She feels your pleated skirt being raised up. White knickers. "Sir, I'm wearing the correct knickers, Sir" she implores, as if this might spare her from Sir’s full wrath. "Be quiet!" Sir snaps. Bent over the chair, having her skirt raised only serves to raise her fears of what Sir is planning. Sir pulls her knickers down, makes her step out of them and he tosses them onto the table in front of her. "Your knickers are irrelevant, young lady” Sir says matter-of-factly. She is trembling with the anticipation, the dread of what is about to happen. Sir is still holding the book, he spreads his palm across it and … WHACK! She feels the full force of the Venerable Bede across her bottom. The force is such that she cries out and the chair lurches forward to the extent that she has to put a hand on the table in front of her to stay upright. “Oh my God!” she thinks to herself, startled. “The force from that book pushed me forward. I almost lost my balance! Now the heat is spreading across my bum.” "Hands back on the chair, please." Sir says calmly. She does so, but Sir notices that she is gripping the edge of the seat in order to brace herself. "I believe I told you to place your hands flat on the chair." She obeys the instruction. "If you move your hands from that position on the chair then I will take my belt to you." Sir says. She anxiously looks round and see that, yes, Sir is wearing a belt. "Do you understand?" “Yes, Sir, I understand.” She composes herself for the next stroke, desperate to hold her position. The spanking resumes with slow, deliberate, firm strokes across her bottom. The Venerable Bede makes for an excellent paddle. The redness spreads across her whole bottom. She is pressing her hands hard against the chair, desperately trying not to move them as the smacks rain down ever harder faster. She is pressing so hard that her arms are beginning to ache and tremble. The pace and force are building, and she struggles to remain still as each smack lands. Eventually, a very firm stroke connects, and she crashes forward into the chair, causing it to scrape loudly across the floor. She involuntarily reaches forward with an arm to steady herself, before quickly putting her hand back on the chair. "Maybe Sir didn't see that" she hopes to herself. All goes quiet. Very slowly, and deliberately, Sir places the book down on the seat of the chair in front of her and she lets out a whimper as she hears Sir unbuckling his belt. "Now, bend over at the table" Sir instructs. Her arms are so exhausted that she flops forward onto her chest on the table and stretches out her weary arms, resigned to her fate. Sir smiles quietly to himself. "Feet apart, please." She shuffles her feet to comply with the instructions and listens to Sir slide the belt out of the loops on his trousers. “I can only imagine what this is going to do to my already tender buttocks” she thinks anxiously to herself. Sir stands to the side of her so that he can get a full swing at her burning bottom. Her rapid, shallow breathing is delights him, she sniffles a little and her logs tremble. The first strike whips across her cheeks, causing her to cry out. Sir allows the pain to flood through her body and the heat to sear into her bottom before the next lash bites into her bottom. Sir waits again, then repeats. She screws up her toes inside her shoes, trying to drive the pain out of her body and down through the floor. She gasps and winces. Sir continues to thrash her with his belt, quickening the pace so that the next belt strikes while the pain from the previous one is still building within her. Stroke after stroke of his belt lands on her poor behind. The pain increasing steadily. Her eyes are full of tears, “But I won't give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry!” she thinks grimly. She sniffs back the tears. Sir belts the same cheek repeatedly, and rapidly, and the intensity is too much for her to contain. "Oh please, Sir!!" she cries out. Sir stops and she is squirming and writhing against the desk, desperately trying to make the pain dissipate. "Good girl." Sir says softly, and he can sense her relaxing a little. "Nearly done, just the same to do on the other cheek." “Oh please sir! Not more!” she implores. Sir does the same to her other cheek and she cries out once more. As the pain washes through her, she grimaces and groans. "You may stand up now." Sir says calmly. She wearily raises herself up off the table and looks round at Sir. And it is now, as their eyes meet, that she starts to cry. "What you did was very serious.” Sir explains. “This is a very expensive book to have to replace, I was extremely angry with you." She looks at Sir with tears rolling down her face. Sir places his hands on her cheeks and wipes away the tears with his thumbs. He then sits down on the chair and beckons her to sit on his lap. “I realise that what I did was wrong, and I needed to be punished” she thinks to herself. “Sir has done that, and I will feel the effects of this afternoon’s lesson for a while yet.” She sits gingerly on his lap, as instructed. Sir leans back in the chair and she leans against him with her feet up on his thigh. Sir places one hand on her upper arm to hold her and his other hand rubs her burning bottom. Slow, soothing strokes of his hand on her glowing cheeks. "I do this to help you, to make you become a better pupil” Sir says. “You have the ability, you just need to have it channelled constructively. With Sir's guiding hand, there is no reason why you cannot spread your wings and soar." “Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.” "Good girl." “Now, it is past your home time” Sir says. “Put your knickers back on and you may go.” “Yes, Sir.” "But before you leave, could you place this back on the shelf." Sir hands her the book and she puts it back where it belongs. She then rubs her bottom as she leaves the room.
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