The Petworthy Finishing School Ch. 02

"You are?"

"Lavinia Wordsmith of Nebraska, sir."

"I appreciate the honesty of your answer, Miss Wordsmith. It will not mitigate the fact that you are about to be punished, but it will clarify to you why. Do you think that you were going to answer that young lady when she turned to exclaim something to you?"

In truth, Mitten did but she wasn't ready to concede that point.

"I can't know that sir," she answered honestly. "If I did, I might have cautioned her to obey your instructions."

"So, you are saying that if you had answered it would have been an altruistic measure on your part?" There was a deep well of sarcasm in his voice without being cruel.

"Perhaps sir."

The man chuckled softly and turned her back to the wall, once again having her bend at the waist. Flipping the skirt up over her back, he pulled Mitten's breeches down past her bottom while relaying his final edict on her plight.

"Well then, Miss Wordsmith," he said placing his hand on the small of her bare back just above her butt crack, "you must then also, by that logic, concede that you just as easily might have disobeyed yourself. Either way, I am sure that you will be better for the punishment."

Mitten closed her eyes with a painful sigh. In her periphery she saw his hand draw back with the strap and heard it swoop through the air. The sting lashed her flesh even before the sound reached her ears. She lurched, crying out in a mix of anguish and shock. The man calmly and evenly covered her bottom with the stripes of his well- worn strap, each stroke causing Mitten to wail to such a point that by the time the tenth stroke was administered she was crying uncontrollably. Even as she sobbed and heaved after the strapping, Mitten stood trembling, her face contorted with her bawling. Still, she stood in a false dignity that was torn down by her public humiliation. The man looked at her with a level of bemusement. She had seen the other girls receiving similar chastisement and quickly grasped the etiquette of the situation.

"Thank you sir," she managed, careful not to express the indignant rage she was feeling.

"Please return to the line with your friend."

"Yes sir." Millicent watched Mitten return to take her place behind her. Inexplicably,the small girl seemed completely recovered from her own punishment and looked at her with a sense of hopefulness. Yet, Mitten was still crying without shame, though quieter than before. It was shocking how beyond the pain of the experience, the act of being spanked in front of the other girls had totally broken her down.

As girls were lining up behind her, Mitten could see other girls being pulled out of line for a variety of reasons. Each received a quiet lecture before their own bottoms were exposed and tanned fiercely. From her position in line, Mitten realized that if she did not quiet her own crying, she could pass the man again and he would feel compelled to discipline her again for her noise, a thought that stilled her spontaneously.

Eventually, the line began to move past him to where each of the girls ahead of Mitten and Millicent were instructed to begin disrobing. On either side of the lines were laundry bins on wheels. Each one was designated for a specific article of clothing. Shoes were first in one, followed by stockings, then dresses and shawls, slips, brassieres, and finally, breeches and briefs. As Mitten tentatively began to strip off her clothing, Millicent, conversely, seemed to peel her garments away with a certain amount of enthusiastic verve. When she was finally naked, barely the vision of a preteen girl, she made eye contact with her. Her look was one not of trepidation but of curiosity laced with a healthy dose of appreciation for Mitten's nearly naked form.

Now the line turned down a corridor where the entourage of nude girls were led into a room staffed with other students, in their own Petworthy uniforms. As each girl passed a station she was given a part of her new uniform, beginning with a bag to carry sundries and extras like the six pairs of thigh length white stockings, six pairs of white briefs, and six front opening brassieres. Then she was given two sets of pajamas which were warm and flannel and three thin, gauzy night gowns. At last, she was given uniforms, six in all, and the whole of the bag was now heavy with clothing. When she passed through the gauntlet of uniform acquisition, she paused where Millicent and the other girls were being instructed to dress. Gratefully, she did so with haste. She was given a moment or two to fix her hair and then dragged her bag outside into the late evening light. There she was instructed to write her name on a tag and affix it to her bag.

A young black boy, tall, long and strong came along and took the bag with a small smile which Mitten returned. She had never met a black boy in her life and had only seen photos of them. He was so dark and mysterious that she was literally taken by the sight.

After the mysterious disappearance of her clothes, she followed instructions to enter a stadium styled auditorium that buzzed with activity. There, the remainder of the student body was in the auditorium seated, curiously enough, in every other seat. As the newcomer students entered, they were instructed to find a seat and were compelled to sit among the older, more seasoned students. Mitten went about halfway down and found a seat in the middle of a row. Millicent was soon lost from sight.

Mitten sat between a tall, stoic brunette with mi-length black hair and a more squat, round girl with short, wavy strawberry blond hair and an animated face. She turned to Mitten and smiled broadly, extending her hand.

"Hi," she beamed, "I'm Constance, second year."

Mitten forced a cordial smile, her attention still buzzing over the stinging reprimand she received before.She was still was polite and extended her hand while Constance's face changed to a more comprehending one.

"I'm Lavinia Wordsmith...call me Livvy."

"You get swatted in line?" Mitten nodded and felt a blush come over her face. Constance face lightened again.

"Don't worry about it. You get used to it," Constance assured. "For the first month I was here, I couldn't do anything right. I was getting spanked twice a day it seemed. It's not personal. Actually, the teachers are really nice." Mitten nodded politely and tried to hold that thought in mind, remembering the calm way the handsome administrator strapped her in the line.

Mitten went through all of the thoughts she had entertained for the last three months. It was the pain that frightened Mitten most. Yet, she had been raised, as most conservative girls of her generation, with the delicate balance of affection and discipline. While spankings were never something she romanticized about there was always the sweet moments before and after a punishment, laying over Momma or Daddy's lap, their hand resting on their bottom or rubbing it to soothe it, speaking warmly of their love and affection; reminding her that the punishments she received from them was just another expression of their love, mandated in the Scriptures.

What troubled Mitten was how that kind of warm, tender experience which made her such a good girl, would translate in this antiseptic and public forum. She had felt deep embarrassment not only of being briefly punished in the lines, but in watching the other girls being made an example of. How could she mine the same sense of purpose from virtual strangers given the authority to touch her nakedness and discipline her bottom?

~

It took about a half hour for the remaining students to come through the lines and find a place in the auditorium which held only about 300 people. Mitten imagined that there were more students at the school and that this auditorium was too small for all of them. She would learn that there were, in fact, nearly 700 girls between the ages of 18 and 20 at Petworthy School. She wondered why the new students were mixed with this select group second year students. When the hall was filled, several administrators took the stage. On cue, the second year students rose to their feet at attention, with the new students clumsily following suit. Among the faculty was Headmistress Cashmere, looking powerful and commanding, even from a distance. She wore a similar black suit to the one she wore to Mitten's home, with a knee length skirt and matching jacket of dark navy and pinstripes. Her normally restrained hair was still back but hung down her back somewhat, which Mitten thought softened her perception of her.

"Be seated." Her command, though spoken with a normal voice, still resonated over the quiet throng of girls.

"We welcome our sisters who join us for their first year at Petworthy. I have met all of you and left no doubt in your mind that your acceptance here was contingent on the potential that we see in you. This is where you start to learn what that potential is. There is an adage that behind every great man is a great woman. There is truth in that that is both proverbial and literal. Proverbially, every man of greatness needs a woman taking his needs into account, uplifting him, serving him, espousing his greatness, helping him to fulfill his potential, take care of his sexual needs and managing his household.

"We will be teaching you the art of submission, both domestically and sexually. However, we teach it not only to know how to provide submission but how to expect it. When you are running a household, you will bringing children and servants under your submission, freeing the husband to pursue his true calling. You will be the one holding children and servants responsible. Everything we do to bring you into submission is also a lesson for how to bring others in submission to you. We are not teaching you to be wall flowers and pretty faces.

"I was a student at Petworthy. Some of you have already felt the flat of my hand on your bottom. I am sure you will agree that I am not a shrinking violet."

There was a murmuring of soft laughter at the humorous anecdote.

"You are being groomed for men of status and control in our country and around the world because the world would fall into chaos if the men were allowed to run it without the guiding, nuanced influence of a submissive woman behind him. It is the irony of history that men dominate. They dominate because we want them to and in our allowance of our submission, we hold an even greater level of control and influence on them than if we actually had them in chains. You new students will learn that in your Intimate Psychology studies.

"You will take a variety of classes here. Aside from the conventional, but highly advanced studies of literature, mathematics and the sciences, you will study submission from a personal and corporate level. You will learn about sexuality from a sociological, psychological, and physical standpoint. In your Intimate Studies you will find out what you excel at sexually, what you prefer, how to please your Master, Mistress or Husband, and how to use your sexuality as a tool for long range goal planning."

Everything that the Headmistress said made Mitten's stomach churn uncomfortably. Master? Mistress?

"Each young woman at Petworthy receives both a student mentor and a guidance counselor who will have the authority to make sure your educational and emotional progress is in line with Petworthy's guidelines and expectations for you as a student here."

Even as she heard the words she suspected that Headmistress Cashmere had just expanded the number of people who could punish her.

~

Juniper Lee Genessee from Alabama was the Resident Advisor on their floor and was at the auditorium to meet and lead them to our dormitory. She had a pronounced, slow Virginian accent that seemed to be incongruous with her, straight black hair. It also seemed unlike her large frame. She a thick, bodied girl of 19, and nearly 6 feet tall as Mitten could guess. She talked pleasantly and Mitten noticed that she was walking with a touch of a limp.

"Now, you see, everything that you do heaya is going to be scrutinized. When you are walking as we are, posture is important and noticed. Always give a respectful greeting to staff as they pass, calling 'em Miss or Suh."

As we walked the perfectly manicured grounds, Mitten noticed in the distance a student and a faculty member sitting on a bench having what seemed to be a calm, reserved private conversation. She almost began to look away when the student calmly rose and lay over the woman's lap. After a moment of walking adjacent, Mitten could see that the woman was talking very calmly and the girl seemed to be accenting without dispute. The skirt was pulled up and the shock of the white panties even at that distance away was startling.

"Eyes forward, ladies, unless you want to next on that lap," Juniper Lee said. "That's Miss Astor. She's the Dean of Student Morale and she spanks more girls than anyone here. She is the nicest woman you would ever want to meet, but she is also the strongest believer in spanking for things other than discipline. She spanks as a greeting, because she missed you, because you're doing well, because it's Tuesday...."

The girls all laughed nervously. As the sound of the laughing died, the hard smack of hand to skin flesh resonated over the courtyard followed by the girl's yelp of pain. It continued as they walked away but the scene affected Mitten in a way that she couldn't identify. All she knew was that she witnessed something that seemed so benign and almost intimate that she felt like a voyeur. As the distance grew between them as they walked, Mitten could still hear the girl who was crying fully and earnestly as Miss Astor continued her lesson on the girl's bottom.

Mitten, Millicent, and Constance all were in the same dormitory; Roosevelt Hall. The dormitories were not private in any way...much like barracks instead. Each floor was given the name of a characteristic that was desired in a girl at Petworthy, like Propriety, Submission, Honesty, and Integrity. Mitten's floor, the second story was called Charity. The beds were simple single beds on steel frames with posts at the head. On the wall of the head of each bed were leather restraints that seemed to disappear into the wall and a matching set on the posts on the head frame of the bed. Mitten suspected that it was for some form of discipline. The hall had a varnished wood floor that was uncomfortable to walk barefoot on.

The lavatory and showers, however, were a virtual panacea for Mitten. As affluent as her family was in Omaha, they didn't have any plumbing or running water. This was something she had heard about in fantastic rumor when she was in the Midwest. At the end of two rows of ten beds, the halls emptied into a single entrance to that floor's lavatory and shower house. There state of the art drawstring toilets noisily flushed the girl's urine and droppings away from them. It was a far stretch from depositing those things in the vile odor of the outhouses she was raised with. However there was no privacy stalls for the toilets or the showers. On the wall were instructions for conduct while using the lavatories or showers. Girls were not allowed to choose which toilet to use. They were to take the one that was nearest to the entrance which had no door. They were not allowed to bring or wear any clothing into the shower house. Instead, they were to retrieve a towel from the shelves in the shower house foyer, the entrance of which was adjacent the toilet house entrance from the dorm. Girls on the left side of the building could see (and occasionally smell) the toilet house and girls on the right side were able to see into the shower house.

Showers could not be taken alone but with a partner that assisted in the bathing to save hot water. If hot water was exhausted before the entire floor had bathed, the entire floor was subject to discipline. It was estimated that a pair of girls could assist each other in bathing and complete their shower in four minutes.

"There ah no rules regarding talking in the showers or even foolin' around, but the rules on time limits and hot water ah pretty strict. We all will be getting the strap for doing it. You can count on it happening at least once. Usually the lesson sticks after that. Ah recommend being naked and quick about your showers until you're sure you have it down to a science."

All of the girl's bags of clothes were being brought in by strong, black boys no older than Mitten. When she was waiting on her bunk, the boy who brought hers with longish hair. He was dressed appropriately, in a white shirt with a dark vest and matching dark pants. He was big and muscular and seemed to fully fill his shirt. She guessed that he was easily 6'1" and over 200 pounds.

"Thank you, sir," Mitten said politely as he set the bags on the bed for her to tend to. The boy smiled bright in contrast to his rich, dark sienna skin.

"Ain't no thing, ma'am; a pleasure to do it."

They're gaze lingered a moment more than was

normal and cursory and Mitten felt herself blush at the boy's attention, finding herself looking around nervously to see if anyone noticed. She watched him in her peripheral vision as she stowed her belongings in the two drawers she was given or hanging the dresses and blouses in the adjacent standing closet.

There was a map in the manual which gave explicit directions in exactly how each item should be set and look in the drawers or bureau. She set the shoes in perfect order in the bottom of the bureau and had each dress exactly one half inch apart from each other on the hangers. She lingered over the details so she could watch him continue his work hauling the girl's bags upstairs. A black girl in a more common but still acceptable dress was assisting him in his work. As she passed by, Mitten stopped her. She was, perhaps, 18 years old herself; wiry and strong, with the same skin tones.

"Excuse me, but who is that boy." The girl looked at Mitten flatly.

"That boy? He my brotha, Cornelius."

The statement hung in the air as almost a sign of ownership and the girl turned in a huff and walked away, leaving Mitten to wonder what had happened and why she had asked in the first place.