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THE ATONEMENTS OF JOANIE: JOANIE THE CHATTERBOX [ part 6 ] This is about Joanie, twelve years old, who has atoned for the terrible wrong that she committed many years ago - by submitting to a series of excruciatingly painful penances . . . Afterwards, back at school again after the Christmas break, Joanie finds herself getting more and more deeply into trouble and - for her own good - she has to suffer more agonizing punishment. I returned to Miss Potter's School for Ladies after the Christmas break, and was startled to find the school work had become easy -I now seemed to remember everything the first time I heard it in class or read it from my textbooks . . . I couldn't understand why the teachers went so slowly, and I filled the time with my new-found pleasure of talking to whoever was next to me . . . The teachers were forever telling me to be quiet and gave me punishments when I didn't stop talking: detention, writing lines, weeding the school vegetable garden . . . but really nothing could stop my new-found excitement of enjoying the lessons and then talking with my friends as soon as I'd understood what the teacher was telling us, while she went on to repeat it again and again for the slower girls . . . About a month into the school term, though, at the end of dinner one Friday evening, Uncle Pent told me that he wanted to talk to me before I went to bed - First, I was to go up and start on my week end home work - Then at 9 o'clock after having my bath, I was to come down to see him . . . Well! At last nine o'clock came and I went down in my nightdress, dressingown and slippers. Uncle Pent was sitting in one of his leather covered padded armchairs: "Joan (and I knew it meant trouble as soon as he called me 'Joan') Stand here, in front of me: I have had a letter from Miss Potter, the Principal of your school." "She tells me your work had improved out of all recognition, and you are much quicker than you used to be in understanding what the teachers are telling their classes . . . but she says you start to talk to your neighbor as soon as you understand what the teacher is explaining." "Nothing the teachers have been able to do ever stops your incessant chatter during class!!" "Miss Potter asks me to punish you in any way I see fit, to stop your talking in class . . . because you are disrupting the lessons for the other girls, and it can not continue . . ." "You know what she means, Joan: The parents of other girls have been complaining that their daughters can't learn their lessons because you are talking all the time in class . . ." "You will have to leave Miss Potter's School for Ladies unless you stop your chattering during lessons!" "Tell me, Joan: Is Miss Potter right in what she says about your talking all the time in class?" " Uncle Pent, it's since the Christmas break -the teachers seem to go so slow -and I've come to like the other girls so much more . . . I can't just sit and twiddle my thumbs in class while the teachers go over the lessons again and again . .." "Joan, I am going to ask Miss Potter to move you into classes where your mind will be stretched more than it is now." "I think you could go into a more advanced French class; And I know you are only twelve, but you could start Latin." "I'll ask for you to do more Algebra too, so you'll be ready to begin Calculus next year . . ." "In fact I'll ask Miss Potter to put you into more difficult classes for everything . . . and that'll give you more to think about while the teachers are talking." " But that's not all, Joan: You must learn to turn the leaves of your book and read more about what the teacher is saying, once you've understood what she is trying to explain." "Because, after you atoned during the Christmas break I know your mind feels as though it has woken up bright and fresh after a long sleep. But if you keep talking in class . . ." (And Uncle Pent SHOUTED): "YOU WILL BE ASKED TO LEAVE THE SCHOOL! ! !" "And we don't want that to happen, do we?!" and I shouted back: "NOOOOOOOOO ! ! ! ! !" "Well, I'm going to do my best to help you to remember that, Joan! I want you to go and bend over the back of that padded leather arm chair and I am going to make your bottom so sore that you will always remember: NOOOO talking in class!!!" "And it's no use crying . . . go and bend over the chair!" As I bent over the round padded leather back of the armchair I noticed that it was the other one . . . not the chair I had bent over for my atonement which had a bump on the back that had pressed up into my pussy . . . This one had an odd groove from front to back in the top of the padded leather back: They must have made them specially that way for Uncle Pent . . . Penty tied my wrists and ankles to the legs of the leather arm chair just as he had done when he and the three men had helped me to atone . . Then he switched off the lights in his study so the dark oak-paneled room was lit only by the flickering flames of the fire . . . He briskly lifted my nightie and tucked the hem up into the neck and arranged the mirrors just like before so I could see everything that he was doing (and my bare white bottom bent over the back of the leather arm chair, waiting for its punishment) except the flames of the fire didn't give much light in the room to see by . . . Penty picked up a black paddle from his desk and slid it along next to my face so I could feel and smell . . . he was going to use black leather to hurt me. "There, Joan, this is what I am going to use on your bare bottom! I think you should kiss the black leather paddle before I put it to work!" And I gave the sinister black leather a loud kiss so he would hear it: I didn't want to make him more annoyed with me at this point ! ! ! ! And then Uncle Penty hit the black leather paddle: CRACKKKKKKKK ! ! ! ! on the leather back of the armchair ""- I quaked with fear at the sound . . . I could feel myself burst out in a cold sweat of plain terror . . . "Joan, I want you to count out loud each time the paddle hits your bottom! One Uncle Pent . . . Two Uncle Pent . . . Three Uncle Pent . . ." Then he brought the black leather paddle hard on my bare bottom and I . . . . . . . . YELLLLLLLED ! ! ! and burst into tears "NOOOOOOO ! ! ! Oooone Uncle Pennnnt! Choking on the words And he waited a loooooong time """"-then . . . . . . . BAMMMMMMMMMMMM ! ! ! ! again "OOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHH ! ! ! Twooooooo Uncle Pennnnnnnt !" I just managed to get out And so it went on . . . and it HUUUUUUUUUUUUURT terribly every time he did it . . . Each swipe of the black leather paddle stung awfully as it went . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .CRAKKKKKKKK on my poor tender twelve year old bottom and I just managed to jerk out between my sobs and tears: "Fiiiiiive Uncle Pennnnnnt!" or whatever the count had got up to . . . and I saw in the mirror: my bottom completely changed shape each time Uncle Pent beat it with the paddle . . . My firm round cheeks were mushed completely flat by the black leather-covered paddle then they wobbled around a few times before they got back their smooth round curves again - More red after each BAMMMMMM on my poor poor bottom . . . "Siiiiix Uncle Pennnnnnnt!" and each time the leather paddle went CRACKKKKKKKKKK!!! on my poor soft twelve-year-old cheeks . . . I gave a mix of SCREEEEEEAM and YELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL !!! and my tears flooded down onto the seat of the leather armchair -O-H-H-H-H-H-H! it H-U-U-U-U-U-U-U-U-U-U-U-R-T-T-T-T ! ! ! ! ! ! And each time he beat my bottom with the leather paddle Penty shouted: "JOAN . . . YOU WILL NOT TALK IN CLASS!! "Sevvvvvennnnnnnnnnn Uncle Pennnnnnnnt ! ! ! ! And he waited a long time after each BAMMMMMMMMMMM on my bottom -before the next one - BAMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM I thought it would never end """"""""""""""""""""- But at last Penty said, when I choked out: "Thiiiiiirty Uncle Pennnnnnnnnnt!!!!" He said: "There!!! Will you remember now what will happen if I ever hear again of you chattering in class?!" "Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeees, Uncle Pennnnnntttt! I'll rememememberrrrrrrr!!!!! Please don't spank me any moooooooore! ! ! ! ! !" "Good!! I am glad to hear it -because I hate doing this to you, Joanie my love!" "And I don't want the spanking to hurt you any longer than it need or for your bottom to show marks more than it has to from this paddling." "I am going to rub in some special cream to help take away the pain now, and the marks . . ." And I saw in the mirror he put the fingers of both hands into a jar, and they came out covered with white cream . . . which he then gently massaged into my cheeks . . . all over . . . gently "gently "gently """pressing into my soft warm bottom and soon the pain began to ease and melt away . . . And it felt exciting. And Penty's thumbs slid down and gently "gently "gently "rubbed across my rosebud and down "down between my legs and onto my pussy . . . And I began again to have that strange and lovely feeling like I did at the end of my atonement when I was sandwiched between Penty and Sir John and their stiff things were siding in and out between my legs . . . and I couldn't understand what was happening to me and I got so so excited . . . And I was getting strangely excited now all over again and it felt woooooooooooonderful. The fire had died down so I could not really see what Penty was doing to me but it felt like his stiff thing was slippery and sliding between me and the top of the leather padding right along the groove across the top of the chair "Joanie my dearest I am so very sorry I had to spank you . . . I do love you very much you know! "And I am doing this to make sure you realize I will always love you very very much . . . and he stiff thing slid in and out in and out in and out rubbing against my pussy . . . while Penty's tummy banged again and again against my sore sore bottom hurting me terribly each time his stiff thing slid in against my clitty . . . But somehow the pain of his banging against my sore bottom only made me more excited . . . I started to wiggle my bottom up and down against Penty's stiff thing as it rubbed against my clitty . . . until I was suddenly out of all control. . . I couldn't stop what I did . . . I was thumping my bottom up and down as fast as I could go as I got more and more my excited """"-and then I suddenly spaced out with the most wooooooonderful feeling as if I was floating away in a gorgeous hazy cloud up into the sky . . .. I must have passed out because the next I knew Penty was laying me down on the cool sheets of my bed and pulled the top sheet over me and murmured as he kissed me gently on my cheek: "There . . . my lovely Joanie!! I had to beat you for your own good my darling." "But you know I truly love you most dearly!" "I love you too, Uncle Penty ! ! !" "Sleep very well And when you wake in the morning remember: YOU "WILL "NOT "TALK "IN "CLASS ! ! !" And next morning I DID remember why I had such a very sore bottom and I remembered as it ached and hurt all that week-end and I remembered it for all the rest of the time I was at Miss Potter's School for Ladies ""- Going back to school on Monday I found it was terribly sore to sit at my desk in class . . . I passed Miss Potter in the passage between classes and overheard one of my teachers saying to her: " . . . really finding it very difficult to sit in class!" Miss Potter sent for me after lunch that Monday. When the secretary let me in Miss Potter was standing beside her desk with a severe-looking dress buttoned all the way up the front. After the door shut she walked over and turned the key ominously . . . Then back at the window, standing behind her desk: "Joan, your teachers tell me you appear to have a sore seat this morning?!" "I'm always concerned for the health of my students -come over here to the window . . . you do have long legs for twelve years old, don't you? . . . Now turn round and stand facing *this* corner of my desk" "I want you to pull down your drawers . . . and raise your kilt . . and bend over the corner of my desk so I can see properly . . ." "As I suspected -black and blue -that must have hurt a great deal when it was done -the result of the letter I sent to your guardian no doubt?!" "We do not administer corporal punishment on the school premises -we leave that to a student's parents or guardian -but we do need to know when it has been carried out!" "No! Don't move! Stick your bottom out more . . . I need a photograph for your private file "(CLICK!)" "So!" "A Polaroid "so no photographic shop will see it! I am the only person to look at a student's private file, so you have no call to look so concerned, Joan! !" "Now stand up and press yourself against that corner of my desk so it holds you steady -I need another photograph of your bottom with its bruises while your cheeks are full and round . . ." Miss Potter's desk had a knobbly wooden carving at each of its corners: I'd heard teachers say how dangerous they were - "You can catch your clothes and tear them on these knobbly little wood carvings at the corners of Miss Potter's desk!" "The carvings are all different heights at the corners of the desk, too so if you don't catch a pocket on one and tear it then you rip your clothes on another one!" But Miss Potter said they were copies of ancient misericords from the choir seats of a monastery in Europe. The top of each knobbly shape sloped downwards away from the desk, towards floor and Miss Potter said they were very valuable . . . Well, Miss Potter was wanting me to press myself against one of these knobbly little wooden carvings on the corner of the desk in front of me . . . and I felt the shiny little wood carving slip snug between my legs, and as I pressed forward the top of its knobbly surface came right up to press against my clitty - It felt so good . . . and I pressed harder against it . . . (CLICK!) "Good, Joan!" "Now tell me something my dear . . ." and she put both her hands flat on the cheeks of my bottom! and pressssssssssed against them ""-I gasped and winced with the pain . . while my clitty was being pressed hard against the knobbly wood carving . . . . and it felt lovely . . . . at the same time as my bottom was hurting most awfully . . . "Does it hurt you when I do that?" "Ahhhhhhhh! Yessss!!! Miss Potter!!!!! It hurts a lot!!!" "Well now, my dear Joan, we do not beat wayward students in this school but when this discipline has been done at home . . . I sometimes like to "rub it in" like thisssssssssss ! ! ! !" And she dug her fingers deep into my cheeks and kneaded my bottom and prodded my cheeks and probed my sore flesh as though she wanted to hurt my bruises as much as possible . . . Her fingernails were long and sharp and dug into me like the talons of an eagle . . . It was agony for me and my poor bruised bottom . . . "OOOOOOWWWWWW! Miss Potter!!" "Naughty girl!!" and she was rhythmically pushing me forward and letting me go so my clitty slid back and fore against the knobbly wood carving on her desk . . . "Naughty girl!!" Pressssssssssss " OOOOOOWWWW! Miss Potter!!" and release "Naughty girl!! Push Poke Prod "OOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWW!! Miss Potter!!!!" and relax "Naughty girl!!! Rammmmm Squish Pinch "AAAAAAAGH! OOOOOOOOOOOOH!! Miss Potter!!! and let go The agony of her finger nails sinking deeeep into my poor bruised bottom was terrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrible . . . But I was starting to get all excited again from the little knobbly wooden carving that rubbed hard again and again against my clitty . . . I was getting sooooooooooooooo excited down there -but I am sure Miss Potter never realized what she was doing to me! I made to turn my head, but she quickly said: "Look to your front Joan!! Then I could only feel the fingers of one of her hands digging into me -everywhere all over my bottom and underneath in between my legs too as she kept like chanting: "Naughty girl!" "Naughty girl!" "Naughty girl!" "Naughty girl!" and dug her fingers into my soft warm bottom and I shouted out every time in pain "and excitement -as the shiny knobbly little wood carving pressed and rubbed against my clitty . . . again again again. . . . "OOOOOOOOOOOOHHHH!!!! Miss Potter!!" "OOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!! Miss Potter!!!!" And her movements got faster and faster and it hurt my bottom dreadfully and my clitty was making me more and more excited . . It must have been hard work for her because I heard Miss Potter gasping for breath right in my ear then a big heaving sigh from her and at that moment I shuddered with dizzy ecstasy as I struggled for breath too, pressing my clitty haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaard against the little knobbly wood carving on Miss Potter's desk. My knees turned to jelly and I flopped forward my boobies flat down on the desk with my bottom sticking out again stunned and unable to move . . . Then I faintly heard Miss Potter calling again and again while she pinched my bottom to revive me . . . "Now Joan stand up you can pull up your drawers again and put your kilt down and turn round . . ." At last I began to wake up . . . "Joan! Do you hear me!! arrange your clothes properly and turn around!!!" When at last I moved and did as she said turning to face her Miss Potter's face was bright red and her chest was heaving. I noticed two or three of the buttons had come undone, lower down on her dress -and I vaguely wondered about how that had happened . . . Miss Potter composed herself a bit and began to lecture me: "Mr. Embury is coming to discuss your work with me tomorrow, and we may decide to make some changes in your classes, so you will find the work more difficult and have less time to even think about talking . . ." "Meantime, you know what the result will be if ever you talk to other students in class again!" "Please do not do it!! I like you Joan and I do not want to write letters that get you punished like this!" "You are not to discuss with anyone what happened in here today!! And, Joan, I very much hope I never have to write another letter to your guardian like the one he received on Friday!" But she had a funny look in her eyes . . . I thought she had seemed to enjoy what she had just done to me and would really like to do it again as soon as she could - I had better watch out ! ! ! ! I stumbled out of Miss Potter's study not quite knowing what I was doing and went and sat in the lavatory for a long time then washed my face and went to my classroom and sat very quietly "quite unlike me "until the last bell. Penty did go and talk with Miss Potter about my classes and I was moved into more difficult ones . . . and I had much less time to talk in class -even if I wanted to -which I didn't . . . But I got excited for years afterwards whenever I thought about the punishments given me by Uncle Penty and Miss Potter and what they had each done to me afterwards . . . Dear darling wise Uncle Penty: he had steered me away from disaster one more time -and set me on the right course to enjoy my wonderful school. |