Red Notice Ch. 18

Sat at my desk, golden sunbeams growing hot on my face, my rear burning under my jeans, all I knew was panic. Cherry had a red notice -- and Ellsworth would supervise her punishment. That meant there was no way out -- no version of events in which I could avoid brutalising my friend. We'd only just met and now I'd be doing to her what had just been done to me. Undressing her. Bending her over. Punishing her. It was unthinkable -- but it would happen.

All my thoughts now went towards finding some escape -- a route I could lay by which Cherry wouldn't have to come here. I picked up my phone and, thumb dawdling over the keyboard, ruminated on a solution. I had to warn her -- even tell her not to come at all -- but what consequences awaited her if I did? As I pondered, anxiety swelling inside me, my hand still occasionally going to my clothed chest as if I were still stripped and on show, Cherry texted me first.

"Hey!" I stared at it, waiting for more. "Bet youve seen huh?"

"Yeah, I have," I replied, sighing.

"Picked a good time to mouth off in my seminar lol," she wrote.

"How come?"

"Well you go easy on everyone right? And even if you didn't its me. You wouldnt ACTUALLY do any of that stuff to me right?" I should have done it -- warned her. I should have told her not to come, to avoid the whole thing, but somehow I was sure Ellsworth would know it was my idea. It didn't bear thinking of what punishment would come my way -- even if I were sacked, she wouldn't leave it at that. Something terrible would come my way -- mental images swirled of me naked in front of the whole student body, in some medieval assembly, bound and caned as Ellsworth sent me off with one last, proper punishment. And as for Cherry, well, Ellsworth would only make things worse for her, too. I felt completely hopeless. I couldn't even warn her what to expect, for she might not turn up, and where did that leave me? An appalling ambush was in store for Cherry and I couldn't bear the thought.

"Yeah of course," I replied, before turning off my phone, sitting back, and putting my hands over my face. The tears hadn't come when I was being stripped and brutalised. They were coming now.

For a long time I sat there, still trying to materialise some escape route in my head, and still coming up short, as Cherry and I texted back and forth about unimportant things and her obliviousness became more tragic with each passing second. Only when there came a fresh knock at the door was I roused back to the room.

"Hello?" I squeaked, and the door opened, slowly, as if it itself was cautious. Its opening unveiled a student, pushing with one hand, who stared at me as they appeared. In my turmoil, I'd managed to forget all about the other red notice, the one before Cherry. Her auburn hair was bushy and short and messy, like a bird's nest, and her cheeks were plastered with what I at first thought were freckles but were in fact salmon-coloured pimples. She wore an autumn-coloured wool jumper and dark, high-waisted jeans, the ankles flared to accommodate brown walking boots with laces as thick as planks.

"Hi," she mumbled in a crisp Westcountry accent. "Uh, I'm..." She paused, like she's forgotten her own name. "Jo. I've got an appointment? I think." She had a shy, uncomfortable countenance, in appearance and attitude giving off the vibe of a village librarian, with a glumness which dominated her timid, mousy face.

"Right, yes, sorry," I said, quickly, glancing back at the Excel sheet. "Jo Rankin?" She nodded.

"I guess I don't contribute enough in lectures." She sighed and looked away.

"I didn't know that was punishable," I said, sympathetically.

"Me either." I sensed that, were I just another student, she'd still be equally as shy.

"Do you know how this works?" She looked back at me.

"Well... I heard you used to, like, do corporal punishment?" Her face tensed as if she feared she was giving me ideas just by saying it. "But you don't anymore. So do I just..." She looked around the room for some clue.

"I still do that," I said, my mouth going dry again, and Jo's lips parted a little, surprise and nerves bursting onto her pimpled face. I'd have to start with her, I'd realised, not with Cherry -- the multi-limbed machine of punishment had to be fired up again now. And, besides, with Ellsworth supervising the next one, I supposed I needed to get some practice in.

"Oh," Jo mumbled. "Okay." She didn't know what else to say -- her feet shuffled on the floor.

"Sorry."

"Well..." Again, she paused. "Well, how come everyone says you don't do it, anymore?"

"Cause I didn't," I said. "For a day. Now it's back to normal."

"That's not fair," she said, quietly, a tremble perceivable in her frail looking hands. "My friend came here and said you didn't do anything. You can't do it to me."

"What do you think it is," I asked, always curious to know how the events in this room were perceived from the outside.

"Like..." She sniffed. "Spanking. Like it said on the website."

"That's right." She closed her eyes.

"But it's embarrassing."

"That's kind of the point." Bit mean, Kelly. Jo's cheeks seemed to be getting pinker.

"And you definitely have to do it?" she asked. " There's not something else? Like, you could just slap my hands with a ruler or something."

"No, I can't," I replied. "Sorry but it's the rules. I'm in a lot of trouble for not doing it properly yesterday. I can't keep not doing it."

"You could!" she insisted. "Just for me."

"I'm sorry, but no." Had I ever said 'no' as often to people before I took this job?

"Well... " Jo swallowed. "Okay, well, how does it go?"

"How do you think it goes?"

"I don't know," she replied, blankly, though I didn't believe her -- I sensed that she was trying to avoid saying anything for fear that saying it would make it come true.

" Okay," I said, standing. I expected her to take a step back, but she didn't. "Well, for a start, take down your jeans." Jo stared at me.

"You're serious?"

"Yeah," I said, blandly. She looked down at her clothes.

"I... oh, God, alright, fine, hang on." With reluctance -- a feeling I now had fresh empathy for -- her hands went under her jumper to unbutton her jeans, then hook ed in her thumbs and tugged them down her soft, milky thighs. They were tight enough to resist her efforts, somewhat, and h er jumper's hem was low enough to hide her underwear. She stood with hands still clutching her jeans as they came halfway to her knees, bent over and looking up at me.

"Is this okay?" she mumbled. It wasn't, really. I wanted her naked -- in fact, I needed her naked, if I was to have any hope of getting through the ordeal which was approaching with Cherry. But I knew I couldn't make her do it. Where was that feeling? That ferocity which had come over me when Zara was here? I needed the demon -- and I'd need it even more at twelve. Come to me, demon, I said. Take me. Swallow me whole.

"All the way down," I said, trying to channel Ellsworth, somehow, knowing I'd need to when it was Cherry stood there.

"But why," Jo whined. "This isn't fair."

"Do as you're told," I said, surprising myself. Was that it? The demon? Or was it just me?

"Okay, okay," Jo mumbled, pushing her jeans down to her knees, then to her ankles, where they stayed in a pile. She stared at them for a moment, almost longingly, her hands now gripping her jumper to keep its hem at her thighs, her bare legs pale and a little pudgy, her hips broad and knees pushed together, before looking back up at me with glistening eyes. "What now?"

"Bend over and touch your toes."

"But..." Her outraged eyes were red from tears. "I don't think I can."

"Anyone under forty-five can touch her toes." I don't think I exuded Ellsworth's authority at all with that -- but I was trying.

"What then?" she almost whimpered. It was funny to think that, in a different time, Jo and I could easily have been friends. She reminded me of me. "Not my pants, right?"

"I'll decide once you've touched your toes."

"But I can't," she insisted, tearfully, and the hint of a sob in her voice broke me out of my spell. "I'm not flexible enough. Please, I-"

"Okay, okay," I said, quickly, my merciless streak fading away to my intense frustration, "you don't have to. Just hold your ankles or something. Okay?"

"Okay," Jo mumbled. "Okay." Slowly, she reached down and took hold of her shins, trying to reach her ankles but unable to. It would have been far too cruel to point out this failure to follow my instructions, as Ellsworth might, and probably would, have done. Having bent over, her jumper was pulled up over her butt, and as she stood there trying to keep her balance and suppress her dim sobs, I moved to stand behind her. Jo quivered, as I admired her pale bottom -- her briefs, white with a bright pink waistband and dotted with equally pink lovehearts, were tight as she bent over, her butt plump and equally tight, a couple of pimples on a cheek.

"Please don't pull down my pants," Jo whimpered. "I don't deserve it. I just-" I pulled them down. Somehow, it felt so easy. Jo's words turned to a mewl of protest, high-pitched and pathetic, but she didn't try to stop me as I slipped my fingers under the waistband and peeled them down. They were tight enough to stay at her thighs where I left them -- I stared now at Jo's bared rear, soft and pretty, breaking out into goosebumps.

"Okay," I mumbled.

"Stop looking," she whined at the floor, but I didn't -- bent over, even with her thighs pressed together I could see everything. Between her cheeks, which spread slightly, her alluring little butthole (it was either that or 'starfish'); I'd never seen one before, not even my own, and I was quite intrigued. I started to understand why men took such an interest. Further down, between her thighs, I could see her vulnerable girlhood -- her pink, plump lips were slick and unevenly shaved, with thin wisps of light hair here and there. Was this what Ellsworth had seen?! I'd never be able to look her in the eye again.

"Now then," I said, quietly, my groin tight and sensing I was ruining my underwear as I stood there. "Tell me what's about to happen."

"I'm gonna get spanked for no good reason," Jo sobbed back.

"I guess so," I sighed in reply, putting a hand on her back. She whimpered, again, at the touch, before I began. This time, I didn't alternate cheeks, but focused on the closer one -- Jo's butt was soft enough to elicit decent slaps, and she yelped in surprise at the first, falling forward and steadying herself with hands on the floor rather than her shins.

"Ow!" she wailed, as I continued, "okay, okay!" I ignored her and kept slapping, her bottom firm as she tensed, her nearer cheek turning a pink to match her pretty little girlhood. Jo's whines, high-pitched and desperate, turned to sobs and shrieks as I continued, powering through my own painful hand. I needed to get that demon out of me. I needed it in control. Choking when it was Cherry in this position was unthinkable -- I had to do as Ellsworth said and be merciless, as she insisted I wanted to be.

So I continued, until my hand couldn't take it anymore, and the both of us were there panting -- Jo more than me -- as I kept my hand on her back in some vain effort to prevent her standing. If she tried, she could have, but she didn't try.

"Are we done?" she finally said, barely audible through tears, and I sensed that she didn't think we were.

"Uh..." I remembered what Ellsworth had done. "I think five more and then we'll be done." Jo just groaned -- then, I surprised both her and myself as I went behind her, to face her butt, and lowered myself down.

"What're you doing?!" she demanded, as I put one hand on her pink cheek and, digging in my thumb, spread her open. With five well-placed slaps, I struck her inner cheek, her butthole and damp vulva spread and exposed. Jo yelped and cried at each strike, humiliated and on display, before I stopped and rose again.

"There," I said. "Now we're done."

Slowly, Jo stretched to her feet, her face red and tears streaming down her cheeks before, to my abject surprise, she grabbed me with both hands and wrapped her arms around me. Her face fell into my shoulder and she cried openly, stood there with jeans at her ankles and underwear around her thighs, and after a moment's hesitation I returned her squeeze and held her under her arms as tightly as I could. No matter that her jumper seemed tailor-made to be as itchy as possible.

"Are you okay?" I whispered, and I felt her nod as she kept whimpering into my shoulder.

"I'm sorry," she sobbed, "I'm not normally like this, I..." She trailed away, going back to her cries.

"I'm sorry, too," I said, so quiet I wasn't sure she'd hear it even with my lips at her ear.

"I get it," she murmured, her hands slipping away from me. "It's your job." She reached down and navigated her underwear back up, then bent over to pull up her jeans. I stood watching as she buttoned them up again, then looked back at me with her wet eyes.

"So, you're definitely okay?" I asked, awkwardly, and she nodded again, wiping her face with a sleeve.

"It wasn't..." She took a breath. "It wasn't so bad. I guess."

"That's good!" I said, trying to be bright about it all.

"Nobody's ever, you know... seen me like that, before."

"You're not the first," I lied.

"And you did, like, you know, see, didn't you?" she asked, meekly. "Like, inside me?"

"A little." I swallowed. "I'm sorry but punishments have to live up to the name around here."

"I know, I know," she sighed. She then shook her hands, almost giggling, and I supposed the post-spanking euphoria was taking her. " Do I need to, you know, sign anything, or anything?"

"No," I said, shaking my head. "No, you can just go."

"Okay, cool." Her hands rubbed self-consciously at her bottom -- she winced. "How long'll it hurt for?"

"Well, mine still hurts," I said. And then I froze. Jo stared at me.

"Yours?"

"I..." I closed my eyes in annoyance with myself. " My boss spanked me earlier. Remember how I said I'm in a lot of trouble? "

"Seriously?" Jo asked, and previously invisible laugh-lines reopened as, for the first time, she smiled.

"Yeah, and trust me -- you're lucky it was me doing it to you and not her."

"Why, what did she do?"

"The same thing I did. Except I was naked." Jo's mouth fell open.

"So I kinda got away with it, anyway," she said, almost laughed.

"From a certain point of view," I giggled. I was so glad she wouldn't be leaving the room crying -- but, then, the dread came barre l ling upon me that Cherry might have to be. Maybe this just wasn't the practice I needed. Maybe I'd never be able to prepare for what would come.

"Okay, well, I should go now, I guess," said Jo, making for the door, still rubbing her plump bottom. As she opened the door, I called after her:

"Why're you so okay with me about it, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Well, you obviously don't like doing it either," Jo replied, looking back at me with a hand on her rear. " So it's hard to take it personally." And then she was gone.