Chapter 14: Punishing My Lover

Friday was a slow day. I waited in vain for anyone to punish all morning. But I sat next to Dr Johnson at lunch, who informed me that he had decided to pay me a visit that evening. He had heard that I was punishing Amelie every other day and thought I would need his help. I denied this, saying that I could manage very well on my own.

“That’s what you think. Surely, Amy’s punishment yesterday was the most serious in the past two days? So you will have to replicate that. And given that she was punished by some of her classmates, and that her punishment was witnessed by her classmates, we need to find Amelie’s classmates that dislike her the most.”

OMG! This was just what I needed, an old pervert getting his second wind. How was I going to get rid of him again?

I later learned from Amelie that he actually asked her class teacher who Amelie’s intimate enemies were. And then he summoned them for Amelie’s punishment session that night. Two of them fancied themselves as the supermodels of Amelie’s class: super-thin, blonde, superficial, and prone to making cutting remarks about anyone falling short of their idea of beauty Amelie had frequently been the butt of their not very funny jokes. One of the other two once used to be Amelie’s best friend, but then another girl had joined the class and had got between them, leaving Amelie largely friendless and with bitter feeling towards her former friend. That ‘interloper’ was girl number 4.

I knew things were not going well, but when I saw the four triumphant and giggly girls outside the punishment suite I realised they were in fact going incredibly badly. Dr Johnson wasn’t far behind. He ushered the girls in. To my surprise, the execution room had now been fitted out with a row of chairs, the sort you would normally find in a theatre or cinema. There were eight in total - more than enough for the four girls and Dr Johnson. “Just ignore us”, he told me. “Until the girls are needed, that is!”. And he winked at me, the fucking arsehole!

Amelie was now at the door and I let her into the waiting room. “Dr Johnson is here to witness your punishment and...” I whispered. “I know!”, she mouthed back. “Just let it happen. You have no choice. You can make it up to me afterwards!”

“Ok. Let’s get through this.” I took a deep breath, and opened the door to the execution room.

The four girls were comfortably seated, and they had even brought a supply of popcorn and soft drinks! They expectantly looked towards the door, through which Amelie now entered the room. I had to make the best of a bad job:

“Amelie, the harshest punishment I administered in the past 48 hours occurred yesterday. Dr Johnson was keen to increase his pupil’s humiliation and invited some of her classmates to attend and witness the punishment, as well as administer parts of it themselves. He himself was also present. We are now replicating this with students from your own class. The punishments you will receive are as follows: Five paddle whacks on the bottom, twenty whiplashes with the number 3 whip on the back and then eight whiplashes (no 2) on your breasts, administered by your classmates. Please strip now and prepare for your punishment.”

Amelie slowly took off her blazer, then her skirt. She then unbuttoned her blouse, very slowly and reluctantly. The two supermodels giggled as she took off her blouse and her extra pounds became obvious. Once she was totally naked, I strapped her onto the punishment frame, adjusting it so that her legs were only slightly spread. But Dr Johnson, of course, did not let me get away with that:

“I’m sorry, Mr Danvers, but I think the frame should be adjusted the same way as it was for Amy.”

So I did, Amelie ending up with her legs obscenely spread and both her holes clearly visible, to the great hilarity of the supermodels. The other two girls also smirked. I tried to paddle her less severely than I had paddled Amy, but she still cried out after each whack. I then took hold of the number 3 whip and started on her back. The which did not crack the first three lashes, and Dr Johnson looked rather critically at me, so I started to whip her ‘properly’. She was now crying continuously.

She was now being untied by the four girls and tied to the St Andrew’s cross. The girls were arguing who was going to go first, but they settled this before I or Dr Johnson had to intervene. The supermodels were unfortunately naturals on the whip, cracking it four times and leaving angry welts. The other two girls also whipped her hard, but did not get the whip to crack so that their lashes were not as effective. Still, Amelie was sobbing by the end. She was untied, got dressed and left without looking at any of us. I felt wretched.

I was hoping that she would come to my bedroom that night, so that I could, as she had said, make it up to her. But she never came.