by John Savage
Angelique is going to suffer. Falsely accused of a serious assault on her stepfather, she must spend three years at reform school. But this reform school is run by a sadistic and kinky Headmaster and Headmistress, who punish the young women for the slightest infraction of the rules, and invent misdemeanors deserving of punishment when none exist. In the punishment rooms in the basement, whippings and tight, painful bondage are common, and Angelique will undoubtedly spend much of her time undergoing torment for the amusement of the two sadists. Almost as bad, or worse, is harassment by a group of tough, mean, lesbian inmates.
When there is the chance of a little gentleness and love from one of the young women, it is hardly surprising that Angelique soon finds herself attracted to the sort of relationship she would never have previously considered…
Before the light went off, the Headmistress and a guard came in. Angel was surprised to see that it was a male guard, one of the very few men on the staff.
“Stand up!” Barton ordered them. When Angel and Emily were standing by their beds, the Headmistress waved her hand towards the girls, an order to the man behind her to do as he had been instructed. He stepped forward, grinning at the two frightened girls, and produced two pairs of handcuffs that he used to secure their hands behind their backs.
With the Headmistress leading the way and the guard following, they were marched out of their room and down the corridor. The ultimate destination was the basement punishment rooms, a part of the school that neither of them had yet seen.
They stopped in a room that was bare save for a horizontal iron bar fixed between two wooden posts and a display of assorted ropes hanging from pegs on a wall.
“Unlock that one first,” she said to the guard, and Emily was freed of her handcuffs. “Fix her over the bar,” Barton said sternly. “But first, Emily, take that uniform off.”
Neither girl had changed into their nightgowns because they knew that they would not be sleeping – for a while, at least.
“Please, do I have to be naked?” Emily asked.
“Do it, or I’ll have the guard take it off.”
Emily, her nervous eyes fixed on the male guard, began unbuttoning her blouse. The guard grinned at her, undoubtedly enjoying the reluctant striptease show.
Emily turned her back to him, so he did not see her breasts. When it came to the skirt, it looked as if she would refuse. Looking back over her shoulder, she seemed about to plead with the Headmistress, but the look in that woman’s eyes deterred her. She unbuttoned the skirt and slipped it down to her ankles.
“Secure her,” Barton barked.
Eagerly, the guard stepped forward and took Emily by a bare arm to lead her over to the horizontal bar. Using his hands freely on her body, he bent her over the bar and pulled her arms down and then behind her. He locked her wrists with the handcuffs but only after having pulled them behind her legs. When he stepped back, she was held in a bent over position, her sweet little ass sticking right up and the delicate little slit just peeking through between her legs.
Barton ignored it, but she could see that the man found this exciting by the bulge in his pants. She knew if she gave him the word, he would love to shove his prick into the girl. She smiled at the thought of how frustrated he was going to be this night.
“Angel, your turn. Get out of those clothes.”
It was most unpleasant to be disrobing before a strange man, but she knew she had no choice. She removed the blouse and skirt, placing them carefully on the floor. She did not turn away from the man’s interested gaze, nor did she move to cover up her breasts or pubic bush, even though that urge was strong.
“Secure her also.”
A minute later, Angel was bending over the same bar, next to Emily and with her hands joined behind her legs. Her long black hair hung down to the floor, and she could feel the cold air of the basement raising goose bumps over her bare skin.
“You may go now,” the Headmistress said. Angel peered around her legs and saw the disappointed guard leaving.
For long seconds nothing happened. Angel was certain that the punishment would involve the whipping of their bare bottoms; this position almost demanded that. But how bad would it be? And with what would their bottoms be struck?
She looked to the other side and could see Emily. Her eyes were closed and she was trembling, partly from the cold air but mostly from fear.
She sensed that the Headmistress was directly behind her. That was confirmed when she felt hands on her wrists. The handcuffs had been snug; now they were tight. Each had been closed another click. A moment later she heard the clicks and knew that Emily’s were also tightened down as far as they would go.
Angel closed her eyes, expecting that very soon the punishment of her bare ass would begin. But nothing happened. Just as she was about to open her eyes to see what was happening, she heard the rattle of chain. A moment later there was the feeling of cold steel against her ankle. She looked down and saw another handcuff being locked around her left ankle. Its mate was attached to the other ankle. But that was not the end of the securing of Angel Brooks into a state of total helplessness. A hand came into view. It held a large padlock. She watched as the lock was placed through the single link joining her ankles and the pulled forward and placed through a ring in the floor. When it was clicked shut, her ankles were secured to the floor.
The same was done to Emily’s ankles. Angel had been wondering if she could lift one foot and bring it over her joined wrists. If she could, then she could step out of the cuffs and be free of the bar. But with her ankles both joined and locked to that ring set in the concrete floor, that possible escape route was denied her. She would stand bent over in that one spot until the Headmistress chose to release her.
The woman behind them seemed to be in no rush to begin the punishment. Angel heard her boots on the floor but did not look around to see what she was doing. The urge to speak to Emily, to offer some words of comfort and encouragement, was strong but suppressed for fear of additional punishment.
When the first stroke came, it was a surprise. Not that it was unexpected, but because it was far worse than Angel had feared. The burst of pain in her left ass cheek was a shock. Her body jerked within its bonds, snubbing her wrists and ankles. She lifted her head and cried out her pain.
A moment later Emily’s weaker cry had joined her own, and she knew that the smaller girl was now sharing the same pain and burning in her ass.
She tried to reach up with her fingers and could just touch the bottom point of the pained patch. She was just looking back to see what had cause so much pain when the second blow struck her right cheek. She could not help the jerk of her body as fresh pain burst into her. “Ohhhh…!” she wailed out. “That hurt!”
Angel turned her head just in time to see a yellowish rod striking Emily’s bottom. In a way, it was fascinating. The flesh at the point of impact indented then sprang back. Immediately it began turning red.
A rod! Some kind of wooden rod was being used to beat their bottoms. It was too thick to be a switch but still flexible. The thought came into her mind that it was a cane, a rod of willow or bamboo.
The blows came slowly, divided pretty much evenly between both cheeks. The first had been shocking in their intensity, but the later ones were worse. The abused flesh was swelling up in red lines, and, as it did, became more sensitive. The more her bottom was whipped, the more each blow hurt.
Emily was the first to scream. Angle held out longer but finally had to give voice to the terrible pain shooting into her body.
Still the beating continued. In the pause between blows, Angel wondered how many had been given her. At least two dozen, she thought. And still it continued.
When the blows finally ceased, both young women were sobbing and wetting the concrete floor with their tears. Both felt as if their asses were on fire. Both felt as if the soft skin there had become a mass of battered, bruised and swollen flesh. They were correct. The total area between the upper buttocks and the tops of their thighs was covered with angry, swollen flesh, burning ugly blacks and blues where the hardest blows had landed.
After a few minutes, Angel felt a touch on her sore ass. Fingers slowly and softly traced the welts there. So sore of the flesh, that even that light touch hurt.
“Maybe you’ll think twice before playing with each other,” came the harsh voice behind them. “If I have to punish you again, I won’t be so lenient.”
Angel felt her hair being pulled aside so the squatting Headmistress could look her in the eye. “Can you imagine how this would feel on your breasts?”
Angel did not want to.
Barton stood and placed herself behind the girls. A sudden, hard open-palmed slap from her hand on the sensitive flesh brought forth loud squeals. Then she was leaving.
“You’ll stay like this all night,” she told them from the doorway. “Pleasant dreams.”
They heard the door close and a lock clicking shut. The light went out.