A Glutton for Punishment (FICTION)

[elsa_birch]

This is the beginning of my story about a strict girl's school where the pupils are regularly punished with butt plugs and corporal punishment. The protagonist befriends a group of girls who revel in trying to get themselves punished by daring acts of disobedience. It's a work in progress. Enjoy!

***

The school was an incredibly strict and serious place. We all wore identical uniforms that consisted of white starched shirts with a white corset over the top, a red checked ribbon tied in a small bow around our firm collar, a grey pleated skirt that reached to just above the knees, white stockings with a red bow at the top, black mary jane shoes and of course the regulation underwear. This underwear was the bane of our life. First there was an adjustable strap around the waist onto which was fastened a much thinner strap that ran between the buttocks and the crotch. This strap could also be tightened and it was required that we must have it on a previously approved setting, determined by the uniform officer, Miss Phipp. She would choose a setting according to our size, that would put us in the same amount of discomfort as each other. The idea is that it would constantly make us aware of our place and the threat of punishment for our actions. When punished for a sin, not only would we receive a spanking, we would be made to tighten our belts a certain number of notches dependant on the crime to increase the discomfort. On top of this belt contraption, we were then made to wear rubber panties - apparently for the interest of hygiene. These were horrid to wear, especially in the summer when we would become especially hot and uncomfortable down there. As well as this, we were also required to wear a plug in our anus during school hours and in meal times to aid posture and discipline. The size of these would also increase as punishment. At night our plugs would sit on our bedside table in our dorm rooms in glasses of sterilising solution like false teeth. It was a peculiar sight.

The routine of the school day was also very strict. We be woken at six by Matron ringing the massive bell that stood on a stand in the long corridor. She and the two women working under her would then patrol the dormitories and ensure everyone was out of bed. Anyone caught lying in would be hauled out and whipped with the strap that each of the women carried on their belt. Each dorm had a shower room that was shared and we would all proceed there with our towel and dressing gown and shower together after waking. The shower rooms had several showers hanging above us on the ceiling and a was completely tiled, with a plug hole in the middle. We would hang our dressing gown and towel up on the pegs and place our slippers and razors on the wooden benches below and walk into the middle where we would all stand and wash. There were no curtains and therefore absolutely no privacy. The sight of a well punished bottom was a common sight. We all used the same regulation shampoo and had the same amount of time in the shower, which would automatically turn off after ten minutes. After this, we then had another ten minutes to shave our legs, underarms and vulvas as we were required to do everyday for hygiene. We would rinse the stinging soap off in our allotted basins before drying and proceeding back to the dorm room. We would then each shed our dressing gown and stand by the side of our bed for the six thirty inspection. Matron and her cronies would come around and examine our pale, naked bodies, searching for a stray hair on our exposed vulvas or a bit of dirt behind a forgotten ear. Offending girls were given six strokes of the strap and then sent back to rectify it. If the area in question was one's private parts, more often than not, Matron would have the defendant lie on her bed facing up with her legs fully parted and would administer the strokes to the trembling genitals. You could always tell when this was the case, even from another dorm room because the screams were always twice as loud.

After the morning examination, we would lubricate our anuses with the menthol lubrication provided - a very unpleasant procedure - and insert our anal plugs. We would then dress in our uniform and go down to the breakfast hall. At the end of breakfast, announcements would be made for the day, including the names of anyone due to be punished for a significant event as well as their sentence. Often, a pupil might not be aware of her punishment until then so breakfast was a particularly tense affair.

At seven thirty, we were expected to take a brisk walk around the play area under supervision before going to lessons at eight. Lessons lasted an hour, with a half hour break at eleven and lunch at half past one followed by afternoon assembly until three. This was followed by lessons until five and then punishment hour.

Punishment hour was held before dinner so that anyone being punished would have to sit on the punishment table and eat bread and water whilst wearing the punishment uniform. This uniform consisted of a white gown that reached just to the top of the thighs, often exposing the crotch area which would be clothed only in the belt that ran between the buttocks. The back of the gown was open like a hospital gown so as to access the posterior with more ease. Often pupils were punished by senior members of staff in private. However, for particularly evil deeds, the individual might require harsher treatment and further humiliating and would instead be punished in front of the whole school during punishment hour. For such severe discipline, a whipping horse and restraints were often used and the implements were the most severe, with a wide variety usually used. Following their punishment, the unfortunate pupil was given a punishment enema (usually with ginger), the largest plug inserted into their anus and their clitoris clipped. This involved placing a wooden clip on their clitoris that they would have to keep on through out their painful dinner. They would also don the traditional dunce cap and would be seated for all to see, humiliated and sore.

After dinner, we finally were allowed some time to ourselves in our dorms. We were expected to use this time to do homework and write letters home to our families and visit any teachers with whom we had appointments. We had to be in bed by nine thirty with lights out at ten. Anyone caught out of bed would be punished by Matron.

Weekends were nearly just as tightly packed as weekdays. We rose at the same time on Saturdays and had lessons until lunchtime, after which we would take a trip somewhere educational. Occasionally we would go somewhere further afield and would leave earlier, missing the lessons but more often the not, the trips were local, dull and frequently repeated. Sundays were slightly less intense and we had no lessons but we attended church in the mornings, followed by bible study. It was sunday afternoon that we were able to receive visitors but this was rare and more often than not, we spent the time walking in the nearby woods, closely supervised by available teachers who allowed this venture out, deeming it suitably healthy and educational. Sunday evenings, however, were somewhat less relaxed. This was when we would have our weekly full examinations. After dinner, over the course of the evening, we would be called from our dorms to visit Matron. During these visits, we would be required to strip naked and lie on the examination couch and present ourselves to Matron, who would lubricate her gloved finger and delve into our most private parts in search of infection, imperfection and concealed goods. Resistance was futile and resulted in further probing and instant punishment. Even squirming could earn you a sharp pinch to the clitoris. You would then be turned over to have your temperature taken and your anal cavity searched followed by an enema. The solution was dependant on your bathroom habits, which Matron would viciously interrogate you on. Often a pupil would leave with a series of appointments with Matron over the course of the week for the administration of soap stick suppositories - an unpleasant and stingy procedure that we all dreaded. After the enema, one might be lucky and be cleaned up and sent on your way but frequently another enema was insisted upon, followed by a thick soap stick thrust into the anus to leave with. We spent sunday evening wriggling on our beds and itching under our rubber panties.

It was one of these Sunday night visits to Matron that earned me my first slot in punishment hour. In fact, it was my first visit to Matron as I had only been at the school for a week. I had been sent to the school by my father who raised my alone. Tired of spending his precious time punishing me, he decided to send me away to the strictest school in the country. He was a wealthy lawyer so the fees were easy to take care of but the time required for my discipline was eating up his time working and he finally gave in and sent me away. I had been used to the sting of the cane from my father's strong hand but I had never experienced the humiliation of enemas and anal plugging so when Matron plunged her brutal fingers into my private parts, I reacted fiercely, kicking and screaming and in the process of doing this I managed to kick her in the face. Immediately she grabbed me by my hair and dragged me, still naked from the examination couch to the headmaster's office and told him what I had done. I stood there, naked in front of the headmaster wondering what my fate would be. I tried to appear calm and complacent but I was terrified of that sentence I might receive. The headmaster cruelly decided not to tell me then and there and instead left me worrying until the next morning's breakfast where it was announced that I would receive a public beating of the utmost severity during punishment hour for kicking Matron. My stomach churned and I felt sick but I did receive some respect from the 'bad girls' of my year. To be there only a week and end up on that stage was quite an achievement I was told. This respect was probably what caused to continue my bad behaviour for although the punishments were harsh, the admiration I received for my confidence and courage made me feel special.

When punishment hour finally arrived after a gruelling day of lessons, I found myself waiting at the bottom of the stage in my punishment uniform, the belt between my legs done up so tightly that my clitoris stung terribly. I was summoned up by the Master of Punishments and with wobbling legs, I walked onto the platform. The punishment began with a paddling and I was positioned over a flogging block with my bottom in the air, facing the mesmerised audience. Each crack as the wooden paddle landed on my flesh through me forward and I let out a gasp but no more. I could bear the pain. Next, my belt was untied and they lay me out on my back and thrashed my clitoris with a strap as an assistant held back the lips of my vagina. This I was far less accustomed to and I cried as quietly as I could as my clitoris turned to fire. I was whipped with a crop over the whipping horse, many of the harsh strokes landing on my exposed genitals and on my anus. I jerked involuntarily with each stroke to these sensitive areas and sobbed. I didn't scream though. I knew I had to be strong. I was caned, paddled again, my clitoris whipped and then given a ginger enema on the platform and forced to expel it into a bucket on the stage. I burnt with humiliation but I felt strong. They plugged my anus with a ginger root and caned me again, each clench making the ginger sting my quivering anus. I was then turned over and after rubbing my vagina with ginger, they placed a wooden peg on my clitoris. It stung so much and I wriggled as they held me down. I desperately wished for it to come off but I just had to cope. Then they lubricated my anus with a strong menthol solution and I felt something cold and hard pressing against my anus. The standard plug had been enough for me but now this massive thing was trying to get in! I resisted but it was still being pushed. Finally I gave in and it slid painfully into my rectum, my anus spreading more and more. I had no idea how much more there would be to go in but it seemed there was a lot more than I was expecting. Finally it went all the way in and my anus closed around the indent. I was breathing very heavily. It was after this that I was allowed to waddle off the stage to be sent to dinner with the enormous plug in my anus and the painful clip on my clitoris.

***

The group of rebellious girls, who's respect I had earned, referred to themselves as The Pain Sluts. They strived to to rebel against authority and viewed their punishments as displays of courage and success. It was Arabella, that first approached me three days after my punishment hour flogging, though I had seen others looking over and whispering in the dinner hall prior to her visit. She crept into my dorm within minutes of lights out. I was incredibly impressed that she hadn't been spotted by matron and marvelled at her bravery.

'Elsa?'

'Yes' I whispered eagerly to the figure in the darkness, slowly making out the features of the girl I knew from my classes as the trouble maker. Unlike myself, she was very tall - almost amazonian, slim but with a broad, powerful skeleton beneath her flawless skin.

'Follow me' came the answer from the shadows.

'Where? Why?'

'No questions now. Follow me quickly - unless you want to feel Matron's strap over your pussy!' I was fearful but very intrigued. I adored mystery - it could never fail to allure me. Arabella moved towards the door and I rose quickly and followed her. She looked both ways and paused. There was the sound of a distant thrashing and she smiled. 'Well done Mary-Elle' she whispered to the empty corridor before hauling my forward and round the corner to the staircase where we ran down, stepping as lightly as possible.

At the bottom of the five flights, she she led me down a particularly dark corridor, with just one light glowing at our end. We tiptoed along until right by the end, where I realised that we were on the kitchen side of the dining hall. Not only were we out of bed, we were in a prohibited area of the school. I felt sick with fear and yet rather exhilarated.

'In here!' Arabella had led me into the kitchen! I could see the pots and pans glistening in the moonlight that shone through the large window. Arabella climbed onto the kitchen table with considerable agility and then positioned herself cross legged, her blonde hair highlighted by the silver glow. She motioned for me to join her and I clambered up, somewhat less elegantly, and I sat down facing her.

'Greetings!' she said quite majestically.

'Hello Arabella. You're in my classes. You are the one they always thrash.'

She smiled for a moment - a wide, mischievous grin with glinting eyes. 'Yes. They are always having to discipline me!' She turned her face to the window and laughed. I gazed at her, fascinated. She was quiet for a while after this and I waited for her to speak.

'So!' she said with great emphasis, 'I suppose you are wondering why you are here then?'

'Most definitely, I must say!'

'We watched you on the stage on Sunday Elsa Birch.'

'Punishment Hour.'

'Quite. We we were rather impressed by your dignity and composure. You tolerate pain admirably. And up on the platform within a week of attending Thistlewood. Impressive. We all agreed.'

'We?'

'The Pain Sluts.'

'Oh!' I was caught of guard. 'I see.'

'That's who we are. We are sluts to pain. To be punished demonstrates a rebellion against authority. It's our reward. Each searing stroke to our flesh is proof of our courage. It's like earning a medal. We seek pain and receive pleasure. The joy of knowing we are strong, we can fight against authority. We have learned to relish it.'

'Wow! I said, genuinely shocked. 'You are a strong person.'

'I am' she said, not boasting but simply stating. 'It feels wonderful!' She stood up on the table and looked up to the ceiling before turning to face away from me. She hitched up her nightdress and bent over. 'Look!' Planted firmly and tightly inside her rectum was plug nearly as large as the one I had worn to dinner. 'Matron ordered me to wear this every night this week as I sleep as punishment for catching me out of bed after lights out. It stretches me terribly and makes sleep so uncomfortable. But I earned it for my confidence to defy Matron and so I enjoy it.' She pulled her nightdress back down and resumed her seated position.

'Why do you want to talk to me though?'

'Because you are strong too. Because you understand rebellion.'

'Are you in charge Arabella?'

'We are all in charge in our own way. We all choose how we rebel. The girls just followed me because I was the strongest.'

'The girl being thrashed when we left my dorm, did you make her cause a distraction?'

'I said I would be walking the corridors at that time. I never ordered her to do anything.' Suddenly I felt bowled over by the beauty of these girl's faith in one another. It was a sisterhood.

I was silent for a moment, taking in the evenings events when the distinctive tap of footsteps along the corridor became quite clear. I took a sharp intake of breath.

'Don't worry, we can get out the window and back up to our rooms before anybody notices' said Arabella calmly. 'But then again' her eyes twinkled, 'we could make this into a little test!'

I looked at the window and then I looked at Arabella. The footsteps were louder, closer. Smiling and feeling strangely calm, I stood up up on the kitchen table and held my arms up in the air. With a laugh, Arabella joined me and we grinned at each other as the door flew open.

The woman in the doorway was Miss Winton, the housekeeper of the lower floor, though she was a stranger to me at this point. She was a tall, stocky woman of about forty, her black hair pulled tightly back into a bun and a dark red robe wrapped tightly around her.

'Come with me!' She whispered it fiercely, each syllable separate and angry. Arabella jumped off the table and a pan clattered to the floor. I followed suit but was dismayed not to create a noise. She grabbed our collars and led us to an office a few doors down, where she pushed us through the door and locked it behind her, placing the big loop of keys firmly in the pocket of her gown.

'What on earth do you think you are playing at? In the kitchen and after lights out too! The kitchen is completely off-limits to pupils! Arabella! Look at me! I will not have you wandering around in the night and taking other girls under your dark wing! I know Matron has you wearing that plug at night! You had better be wearing it young lady!' Arabella bent over ceremoniously, exposed the painful plug and giggled.

'It's a shame not to disappoint!' she said, wriggling her pale buttocks at Miss Winton. who wrinkled her nose before turned to the cupboard behind her, from which she retrieved a thick paddle with holes drilled in. She dragged Arabella over the desk by her collar, pulled her nightdress up and began paddling her with extremely fast, powerful stokes. As five minutes neared, Arabella had not cried but her breathing was deep and her fists were clenched. The plug in her anus must has been thrust in deeper with each powerful swat. Eventually it was my turn to be hauled over. The paddling was so quick that it felt out of control. I didn't have a chance to cope with one swat before another came down on my already bruised bottom. I did not cry but I felt my breathing grow far more panicked. When it finally ceased, I realised that my bottom felt like it was burning. It was inextinguishable and unbearable, and yet I felt an unbelievable strength. I laughed, elated. I was suddenly presented with the urge to do something naughty, something to earn further punishment. I glanced around the room and saw a glass on the desk.

'You'll never hurt me!' I shouted and threw it to the floor. It smashed and Mrs Winton face turned from anger to fury. Pushing my chest, she forced onto my back on the desk and as I kicked out, she fiercely paddled my genitals. I didn't cry, I inhaled and exhaled quickly, intensely. The pain was unimaginable. I felt fantastic.

The Pain Sluts met in secret every Thursday night at eleven in the stable block. This meant creeping out of the building without being spotted, each girl with a separate slot of time so as to avoid being caught. Arabella described this to me during the morning exercise period and told me she would accompany me on my first night but no other.

'If you get caught on the way to the meeting,' Arabella explained, 'your forfeit is to get yourself into enough trouble to earn a slot in punishment hour - without giving up your secrets of course! Most teachers won't think to find out anymore information if you give them something really bad to punish you for!' I was also informed that I must wear my butt plug to the meeting, a symbol of our ability to receive pain with dignity. By the time our exercise was over, I was itching for the evening to arrive.

The lessons moved slowly, the facts and figures becoming more and more tedious as the hours passed. Sitting was painful but I felt a sense of power and pride that I was unaccustomed to as I bore my pain. Dreamily I planned ideas to get me into trouble so as to impress the Pain Sluts on my first night. I was already so passionate about it. The lust for punishment was intense. I picked my history class in which to provoke discipline. Mrs Earling was small and frail and although she has a vicious temper, she lacked the strength to administer a proper flogging and instead favoured more creative methods of punishment. My bottom already had severe bruising and my genitals were red and swollen so further beating would be quite impossible to receive with dignity. However, I had watched Mrs Earling administering her unique penalties for disobedience and was quite inspired.

My act involved staring blankly at the corner of the ceiling every time she addressed me to ask a question and when this had happened for the third time she began to threaten me. Instead of stopping here, I stood up, turned around - much to the delight of the class - and asked 'Can anyone hear an annoying noise or is that just me?'

I was ordered to the front of the class where I was placed on 'The Pole.' This was a bit of wood a bit bigger than a broom handle that was mounted on a sturdy base. The idea was that the culprit sat with the top in her vagina and that it was too tall for her to stand comfortably. 'You'll stay there until the class is over Missy!' Mrs Earling screeched at me, her face red and blotchy. With a grin, I twisted around on the wooden pole and faced the rest of of the class. 'Miss Birch! The pole is not for spinning!' I laughed and began to move around in circles. I caught site of Arabella at the back of the class. She was sat with her arms folded and a beaming smile.

[kms003]

wow this is one of the best stories i ever read!!!! it's awsome... continue with this great work

[slut4use]

this is really good... got down to the details

[Dkaren]

Very good indeed. I cant help but feel envious of those chicks.

[elsa_birch]

Thank you guys! I'll post more when I've written more. I frequently read or add to it when I'm turned on!

[Xrider]

Very good !
I hope more will be coming