Eight Hours of Agony [KathyKane]
 

Disclaimer: all characters in this role play are older than eighteen, making them legally consenting adults (or rather, if they were real people they would be legally consenting adults). This will contain elements that some people may find sexual or extreme, so if you are easily offended, fuck off now before that happens. All characters, places and events are fictitious. Do not try this at home.

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Everything had been going swimmingly for Rebecca Reeves, if one would pardon the pun. Beckie was an incredibly talented swimmer at the Somerset Academy for Young Ladies - a high school so prestigious that the final exam typically consisted of one question: would you like to advance to Oxford or Cambridge? Unlike most, it continued past the typical year 12, extending for one additional year with students typically graduating at nineteen, using the extra year to grow up a little more and to learn extra material for that edge when they graduate.

The blonde, athletic girl hadn't exactly been doing poorly academically, but her true passion and talent lay in sporting, specifically in swimming. It was altogether possible she would one day compete in Olympic events, she was that good... and it showed in her attitude. Her stuck-up tendencies might have even gone unpunished in light of her successes, were it not for getting caught doing something far beyond "a little naughtiness".

The fact was, Beckie was naturally gifted, and did train hard... but that wasn't the full story. Her record was gained through performance enhancing drugs and prescription amphetamines, which would not make it past the screening process for a commercial event, but certainly flew under the radar for a school. Until she was caught: caught in the act of selling excess to other students.

Forty year old headmistress Theresa Birch sat at her desk - it was just the two of them after that encounter, the headmistress staring over her glasses at the girl. Glasses that some people suspected she wore only to complement the look - a tall lady with dark chestnut hair worn in a loose bun with a few strands and a bit of a fringe, long legs, short skirt, light stockings... she was every part the "strtict-yet-sexy, almost-an-Older-Woman, all-business (probably)" principal.

There had been a discussion of the gravity of the matter, how serious it was. How something like that was actually a legal matter, and the proper thing to do would be to report Beckie to the police, handing in the evidence. As an adult, Rebecca could possibly face prison, or end up in a reform school. She would have a criminal record, she certainly would never have a sporting career. It would be all over the tabloids.

But a second option was presented: to keep it within the school. It would be referred to merely as "a very serious offence", but without specification, and Miss Birch would deal with it herself. She made it clear that she meant a very long, thorough, painful thrashing. An entire day of punishment. In the end, Beckie chose option B - she chose to be punished by Miss Birch. She didn't know the specific details, merely that there was a lot of corporal punishment in her near future. She even signed the form prepared for her - as an adult she had to agree to what was happening of course. And with that, her secret was safe. Her future was safe. Well, her long-term future anyway.

"In that case, tomorrow you will be here and knock on my office door at eight in the morning. Even a minute late and the deal is off, we go to the police. You will be dressed in your full uniform, and in regulation underwear. You will be clean and presentable, your hair will be brushed neatly, you will have removed any lower hair you might have. Your shoes will be polished. I suggest not wearing make-up. Your punishment will begin at eight in the morning, it will finish at four in the afternoon. Only then will you be allowed to return home and we can consider the whole thing dealt with."

And that was that.

The next day, Miss Birch sat at her desk and waited. She had checked her cabinet of implements, looked over everything... she was ready. It was just a matter of waiting for her student to arrive.

Rebecca Reeves felt she had slipped into a nightmare, if she ever got wind of who snitched on her, there would be hell to pay! She truly felt the victim in this scenario. She trained hard, ALL the professional athletes experimented with enhancers, she could quit anytime she wanted to and the windfall provided by the sales she was making helped her keep up with bills and training equipment, now everything she'd worked for, everything she'd prepared for, was in danger, and it had come down to a deal with the devil, a particularly cruel and petty devil, if school gossip was to be believed, who went by the name Theresa Birch.

School rumor said corporal punishment was kept in play purely at her behest, and that she had a literal collection of punishment tools in her office, a couple of canes surely, and even things far more exotic. Corporal punishment was avoidable as a child but by the age eighteen and nineteen, it became harder to avoid if you were rebellious and trendy like Beckie was, but on the whole she'd been lucky, and shrewd. Her physical prowess and the reputation of her family spared her a lot of grief and she was an excellent liar, but now Miss Birch had her.

Prison? Expulsion? Reform School? She'd never considered these things in her future and the blonde athlete had convinced herself the old bitch was over reacting. But then, she'd had no choice but to give in to her demands. Stopping at the bathroom just down from the Principal's office area, Beckie took a second to clear her mind, and double check her appearance.

She'd cleaned and pressed her uniform, and to head off any trouble bought a brand new pair of white knickers which she took a few second to slip into while she was in the bathroom. Her black shoes were well polished, and her socks were clean and white reaching almost to her knees, from above which the pale green pleated skirt waved attractively over her lightly tanned and well toned legs.

She had a tan cardigan over her white blouse, and wore a tie matching her skirt's pattern, unable to resist a little cheekiness she'd pinned her school's gold swimming team pin to her jacket as well. She felt she was an excellent athlete, and didn't see any reason Miss Birch shouldn't be reminded.

She cleaned her face in the sink, still felt it was too pale and plain without at least some foundation or a little eye liner, and brushed her shoulder length dirty blonde hair which fell in wave about her head, yet still thin enough to be completely hidden by her swimming cap.
She already kept her legs and bush waxed and shaved but as she did the night before it felt a weirdly submissive and foreboding action, one she resented about as much as everything else.

She gazed at her own cool blue eyes in the mirror and looked herself up and down. she was tall, with a lithe build, but toned muscles and carefully measured tanning lent a healthiness to her figure, and she had perky, well rounded C-cup breasts that made her look quite curvy in her swimsuit. She double checked her backside, flipping up the skirt and making sure the new pair of panties were well placed. A bouncy, full, almost pert pair of buttocks atop long muscular thighs greeted the mirror she peered in and she wondered for the hundredth time that morning, how much of a mess they'd look by 4PM.

"It's inhumane punishment. That's what it is. So Fucking unfair!" She said this to a empty and echoey bathroom. Sighing she flipped her skirt down and arranged it, checked that she had a change of clothes in her messenger bag, and checked her watch. 7:57AM Might as well stop dallying and go face the music.

~~~~~~~

Exactly two minutes later, Beckie stood in front of Miss Birch's office door, watching her the seconds on her watch click down to the top of the hour, she resolved to knock only when it was 8AM proper. The principle had her for 8 hours, (and one kind of a principle set aside a whole day for this kind of thing anyway?) Beckie was determined she not have a second more.

Eight arrived, the school bell began to ring, and she knocked three times, quite curtly, before opening the door and stepping inside. She took a deep breath as she did so, and tried to arrange a disinterested look on her face. Her eight hours had begun.

Miss Birch kept a thin smile on her face - the girl had indeed knocked and entered at precisely eight O'clock and not a moment earlier. Not a moment later, so there was no need to change her plans and march Rebecca to the police, but still, she was certain some time had been spent standing outside, dreading what was going to happen and waiting for the minutes to tick by.

"Very good, you have followed that instruction. Now, let me examine you..."

It was almost in silence that the headmistress circled her prey, looking over her pristine uniform from every angle. She was, however, impressed that Rebecca had done as instructed so far. She noted the clean face as well.

"So far, so good. I should let you know, you will receive at least one good spanking per hour, but you can expect it to be more than that, in reality. Nonetheless I will take my time before delivering the first one. And there will be breaks... although these can be reduced or omitted if you see fit to earn yourself any penalties. But currently there are none."

Miss Birch then opened the double-doored cabinet - a cupboard, almost a wardrobe really, full of implements. The back wall had a rail from which multiple canes hung, ranging from thinner than a pencil - almost as slender as a fine paintbrush - all the way to things a little thicker than the woman's thumb. The doors, now that they were opened out, had hooks from which various straps hung: belts, tawses, razor strops and more. A collection of shoes lined the floor, and there were two bins with various handles sticking out, promising even more implements of correction.

"Anyway, we haven't finished your inspection, have we? Raise your skirt all the way up around your waist, please, front and back."

Beckie's disinterested gaze became quite concerned quite quickly. It was the principle. She was quite pretty for a being nearly (or as Beckie had heard many a bitter schoolmate whisper, over) 40 years old, and everything from her professional yet attractive wardrobe, somewhat classical demeanor and thin smile radiated control. Something Beckie hadn't felt since she'd been called up to the Birch's office about the drugs, and while she'd expected the principle to be somewhat smug, or maybe taken aback by Beckie's fortitude, all that the younger woman could see was a very professional woman working out her own sense of Justice in exactly the way she wanted.

Beckie face fell into a frown as she was inspected, the tall principle walking about her, pinching pieces of her uniform between her fingers, even at one moment Beckie was almost sure sniffing the air to make sure smelled right. And then she mentioned the penalties. Penalties! As if she hadn't already lowered herself, bowed to this devil woman's demands, and agreed to a inhuman eight hours of physical punishment, (and no doubt degradation, Beckie had heard stories that Miss Birch was never satisfied until her prey was sobbing) she would now be graded on how well she took said punishment. Beckie had just taken air into her lungs to voice a complaint, several of them perhaps, when Miss Birch opened the cabinet and Beckie started to realize the severity of the situation.

Beckie was almost positive a professional dominatrix didn't own that many spanking and punishment implements, and if one did, they almost certainty didn't look so professional, so heavy, and so, well fearsome. This wasn't a toybox of oddities, it was a well kept tool box. The smell of cleaned and polished leather was noticeable, and from what the swimmer could see from the paddles and brushes, they were all polished wood and kept in a state a baseball player would keep his lucky bat. Her planned objection died in a harsh and sudden intake of breath. Miss Birch wasn't as bad as all the stories she'd heard, she was much, much worse.

At the request to lift her skirt and continue with the inspection, Beckie could manage little more than a lame "...huh?" and it caused her to grip a fist in frustration, she had hoped not to be intimidated to be cool and indifferent. And already the Principle was making her feel quite awkward. Tearing her eyes from the cabinet and fixing her eyes on the clock on the wall, (they'd barely been here two minutes, the day was going at a glacier pace!) Beckie somewhat awkwardly gathered the front and back of her pleated skirt with her fingers, and lifted them up high exposing her brand new white panties to Miss Birch for inspection. She felt herself tremble slight as her pantied bottom was exposed to the air conditioning and stiffened her stance, she must not show fear...

Miss Birch was fairly sure Beckie was afraid of her, that the situation was causing her great nervousness. But she couldn't be absolutely certain. The girl was doing an admirable job of seeming stoic about the situation, so far. Still, there were no real words from her mouth even after that instruction, and she obeyed, revealing her pristine white knickers. The headmistress knelt in front of her, taking a careful look at them from that side first.

"Good, no colour, patterns or adornments, no silly little ribbons or the like."

She then placed her hands on the sides of Rebecca's hips and forcibly turned her around, rather than standing up, walking around to the other side and kneeling again. Once the girl's bottom was at eye level, she gave a little nod, seemingly satisfied.

"Good. I was almost expecting you would test me by having a large heart or cheeky message printed across the seat, or wear a thong-type. Glad to see there is no nonsense like that, now let's finish this inspection."

So saying, with that as the only warning, she pulled the underwear down to mid-thigh, revealing her bare, currently unmarked bottom. She then, with all the familiarity in the world, reached up and parted both cheeks, looking carefully between them. Her fingernails dug in as she squeezed the firm, muscular buttocks, but everything seemed to be to her satisfaction.

"Good, you seem quite clean. No need for a thorough check, it seems as though you have taken my instructions seriously. I'll just check that you did indeed remove that lower hair..."

She could have turned Rebecca around again. She could have stepped around. Instead, she reached her hand up, hooking her arm between the thighs and reaching under her to slide two fingers down across Rebecca's pubic mound. She trailed along her lower lips, not touching her slit, merely the vulva as she searched for stray hairs. She kept going all the way to the back, but was satisfied with the results.

"Good. Now, I think we can start with a slippering, but seeing as you have fully passed the inspection I will begin with a warm-up, and the first half of this can all be over your knickers. Don't get used to wearing them, mind you."

And with that, Miss Birch tugged the undies all the way up, so that they were slightly riding up Rebecca's crack. She gave a little tug to the sides, helping adjust them, but they were still sitting tight and leaving a little bit of lower cheek exposed.

"So, you can walk over to my desk and bend over, resting your arms and upper body on it. A warm up, then one dozen of the slipper with your underpants up, then another dozen with them down. And then we can discuss what happens next, I'll see if we can get two spankings cleared before eight thirty."

Beckie's mind fairly reeled with the possibilities she could have been faced with if she had followed her first petulant instinct and showed up in shoddy uniform, or without regulation underwear, if she didn't already keep habit of shaving downstairs, or keeping herself very well groomed for pictures, apparently penalties would have handed out like candy!

She managed a crisp: "No Ma'am, no nonsense" when Miss Birch commented on the other things she could have worn under her skirt, but gasped harshly again as without warning, her underwear was yanked down, and strong as steel well groomed fingers pressed themselves on her butt cheeks. She gasped a third time whimpered a tad as those cheeks were parted for inspection.

Beckie had a wide bottom despite her slim frame, and it had been a long time since she'd presented it for a school punishment, and she'd never had them spread for this reason, suddenly the entire punishment, inspection, and day seemed much more invasive and threatening. She bit her lip as she tried to imagine what a "thorough check" would entail, but couldn't prevent a little squeal of surprise from leaving her lips, when quite suddenly, Miss Birch's hand cupped her front and slid down her pubic mound, she felt suddenly invaded and scandalized. The Principle's fingers probed deep enough to check for hair all the way down her anatomy, leaving her at about the taint, and Beckie shuddered in earnest. She never thought she'd ever been so releaved to hear she was going to take a slippering with her underwear on.

Her underwear layer of protection was returned to her awkwardly, making her feel like a kindergartner who'd wet herself, her face was now a full blush she couldn't suppress, and with another lame. "Y-yes Ma'am." She walked over to the Principle's big desk, careful to keep her skirt pulled up. Two good spankings "cleared" before 8:30? Was she referring to the two slipperings? Would they count toward the eight "Good" ones she'd be receiving today? Miss Birch was making it very clear that it was her cooperation that was required not her understanding so she decided against asking directly, she didn't want to give the principle anymore satisfaction than she needed to.

With a heavy sigh, Beckie bent over the desk, leaning on her elbows, her panty clad bottom well proffered for her punishment she even spread her legs a little, two slipperings and a warm up over the desk meant staying in position a good long while. Questions flew around her mind, fear of the coming punishments, and a small sense of hope that maybe she'd get out of this early...maybe.

Rebecca was right to wonder - unfortunately for her, Miss Birch wasn't thinking of the slippering as being two different spankings, she simply expected to deliver that and another one all within the half hour. And on the one hand, that could be simple enough, a spanking needn't take much time, but on the other, it was amazing how they dragged out, how time could slip away.

Seeing that the skirt was still raised, and that Becky made sure to hold a good pose with her legs slightly spread, the headmistress smiled. Perfect. That toned, wide, spankable bottom was sticking out and ready, so she didn't waste time. She pressed her hand flat against it, knowing the knickers would provide little protection in reality, gave a light squeeze, a few pats, steadied herself, then drew her hand back.

The very first smack landed firmly on the left cheek, with a loud clap and a bit of a bounce. The second one landed about a second later on the right buttock, before returning to the left buttock, then right again, then bridging partly across both cheeks. All in just a few seconds. She had the ability to make the "warm-up" a several-minute roasting if she so wanted, and gave no suggestion that she didn't want to.

"I imagine by the time we get around to your public thrashings, your bottom will already be extremely red and sore. It will be quite the sight for everyone to see, I imagine!"

Even as she spoke, she kept going, landing slaps left and right, with occasional bridging ones to catch Rebecca by surprise. Every now and then she'd let a smack land fairly high where there was less padding, or low, hitting the sit-spots where the knickers provided no protection.

Beckie refused to give Birch the satisfaction of yelping or crying out over a simple hand spanking, while the sensation of the principles bare hand on her backside was quite humiliating, Beckie bit back her tongue and grit her teeth, even when the principle surprised her good, with a sound pop to the bared sit spots, or a especially stingy slap high up on her buttocks. However, as the roasting continued, Beckie couldn't help let out a moan of pain and frustration, the older woman was strong and patient, and didn't show any signs of letting up. Beckie had been punished often by her parents in a traditional manner but they'd never thought much of hand spanking once she was a teenager, and Miss Birch really knew how to hit hard and spread the warming sensation all over!

"W-wait, What? Ooh!" She couldn't help but reply to the principle's threat, and once she opened her mouth it was harder to pretend the flurry of hand spanking wasn't getting to her. "Ow! Wait, Miss Birch! You never said anything about punishing me in Public! Ow oh! OW!" planting her hands flat on the desk Beckie craned her neck about as much as she could to plead with her tormentor yet stay in position. "I never signed permission for that!" Beckie knew full well she'd signed permission for Miss Birch to do whatever she wanted, and hadn't those thief's from student council been caned publicly a few months back? Still until that moment, Beckie had entertained notions that it would be a painful but private experience, and afterward she could relate how brave she'd been to her classmates. The thought of being dragged out and shamed publicly hadn't even crossed her mind until now.

And still Miss Birch continued to rain down strike after strike on her bottom, her whole ass felt sore and prickly, and the principle was accomplishing this with just her hand, Beckie felt a surge of panic coming over her, she could handle anything Miss Birch dished out surely, though even a cursory glance at that cabinet made her worry, but taking such punishments in front of her friends and classmates? Oh surely no! She changed her tactic from bargaining to simply begging. "PLEASE Miss Birch! Punish me in here! Don't let everyone else watch! It will be humiliating! I'll do better! I won't do drugs or sell them anymore I promise!" She wasn't crying yet, but with one simple statement, Miss Birch already had her at her mercy, the calculating part of her mind knew she was losing this battle of wills spectacularly.

She tried to stay in position and remain indifferent, but as Miss Birch continued to punish her she began to fidget, to wiggle, and every now and again clench her bottom, the build up of the pain was considerable, and only now was Rebecca beginning to understand what eight hours of punishment truly meant.

"Don't be silly," she responded with several more sharp slaps, "you signed up for anything. You gave me permission to do as I please with this punishment, and I intend on taking full advantage of that. You will be spanked in front of others and you will obey me throughout or suffer very serious consequences."

Eventually, after well over a hundred smacks, the "simple warm-up" came to an end. Though she didn't say it out loud, Miss Birch had to admit her hand was actually stinging from the work-out she'd given it against Rebecca's bottom. Not that she expected sympathy from the girl, of course, she rather had her own problems to worry about. Already her bottom was looking distinctly warm and sore where it peeked out from her knickers.

"Oh look, it's nearly ten past eight already. My, doesn't time fly when you're having fun? Let's hurry on to your slippering then."

Ten minutes down, "only" 470 remaining. She picked the slipper up from inside the ominous cupboard. On the plus side, it was an actual bedroom slipper, not a gym shoe with thick rubber ridges, not a big old army boot or football boot or golf cleat - if she did have such things available, they weren't in clear sight. It looked quite old and well-used, and it was known that the slipper stung an awful lot but was "definitely not as bad as the cane", with every single person to suffer both agreeing they'd prefer the slipper. But no-one feeling it was a good thing.

"You will hold position for this."

She then took a second slipper out, placing it carefully on top of Beckie's head to balance there.

"If it falls, that smack won't count - I'll add a repeat of it at the end when your bottom is bare. So keep very very still and you will only get twenty four in total."

She then hooked her fingers under the elastic of Rebecca's undies, not at the waistband but at the sides, helping to stretch the fabric out a little more. She helped it cover a little bit more skin, instead of riding up in the crease. A very small sign of mercy. But all mercy stopped when the picked the slipper up, held it firmly, then delivered a hard wallop across both cheeks.

Beckie didn't know how to respond to the principal's guarantee that she we be punished publicly and that she'd remain cooperative as it happened. A myriad of situations and humiliating punishments began to circle around her head, and in her mind her boyfriend, fellow athletes, and enemies alike were front and center for each one. She squeaked out a pathetic "B-but you can't!" but was ignored as Miss Birch finished the hand punishment.

By the time she was done, Beckie didn't feel bruised or in agony, but she was acutely aware of her buttocks, they were very hot to the touch and felt incredibly sensitive, the rush of blood in her hindquarters she knew, would make her acutely aware of and worsen the sting of coming punishments. She practically sighed with relief when Miss Birch selected a slipper rather than a brush or paddle, but upon the placing of the second slipper on her head she moaned pitifully. Up until now she'd shaken her head, and wiggled her bottom at the spankings, having to retain perfect balance while taking a slippering? There wasn't any way she'd manage without dozens of penalty strokes!

The first horrid wallop across both cheeks caused her to yelp in pain and buck her shoulders, which dislodged the slipper. As soon as it was replaced she managed to take two strokes before dropping it again. Whimpering, Beckie did a little math in her head. "P-please Miss Birch, my balance is all off today c-could you just double the count and give me 48?" It was a ridiculous and painful sounding request, already her pantied bottom felt red hot and sore from the first strikes, but the supplication required to keep her balance made her fists shake in misplaced pride, and maybe, just maybe, if the headmistress gave her that many, they'd be gentler? after all how strong and arm could she have?