2017/11/09

Entitlement

Esther, Erin, Adrianna, and Kylie sat side by side on the bench outside Room Six; for the most part they were absorbed in their own dread, or searching through their personal galleries of excuses and ploys, looking for some escape.

“I prob’ly shouldn’t have said ‘stupid fucking B’,” Erin said glumly. “That’s when she got the pink slip out.”

All four miscreants pondered and compared that thought. “I thought I was convincing her,” observed Kylie, “But then I said something like: my parents pay your salary and if I want an A you’ll give me an A.” She sighed. “That wasn’t exactly brilliant, was it?”

Niether Esther nor Adrianna spoke up, but their faces were similarly regretful.

Mr. Foster opened the door, and glanced out at the waiting tartlets. “Adrianna,” he said, and waited while she rose and, with halting steps, passed through the doorway. “Take your kilt off and put it…” the others heard before the door closed.

Erin, shocked, looked at her classmates. “Did he say… her kilt…”

“Yeah,” Kylie replied mournfully. “Spanking on the bare bottom. No kilt, no panties. That’s the deal.”

“It’s worse,” Esther moaned. “At least for me… see?” She held out her pink slip for inspection. “If there’s an X in this box, it means spanking. But mine is marked here instead — that’s something even worse, I don’t know what.”

Erin and Kylie examined their own punishment orders. Their hearts sank as they found them to be marked in the same way. Just at that moment, an explosive SMACK and Adrianna’s first cry of pain filtered through the closed door.

Erin paled. “I can’t take off my kilt! I’m not… I wore…” Speechless, she lifted her short uniform skirt so her friends could see: peach lace thong panties instead of the regulation cotton briefs. “I’m in so much trouble!” Tears overflowed and began to roll down her cheeks.

“Wear mine,” Esther offered, standing and tugging her own panties down her legs.

“No, mine,” said Kylie, echoing the motion. She stepped out of her plain white cotton panties. “If he takes us in order then I can change back while he’s busy with Esther.”

While they stood there, panties in hand, arguing about the best way to avoid further punishment, the door to Room Six opened and Adrianna emerged: tear stained, disheveled, half naked, with the fiery crimson lines of a vigorous strapping adorning her bottom and thighs.

Mr. Foster surveyed the scene, looking from one girl to another. He lifted the lace panties from Erin’s unresisting fingers. “Yours?”

“Yes, sir,” Erin whispered.

“I’ll have you next, then. Come in.”

The door closed behind them. Adrianna wept, face in hands, oblivious to her exposure.

A “B” is a pretty good grade, after all.

— Frenulum

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