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                Heather's New School -- Part 1
                       by Weldon Vicary

"Heather, this is the third time I have to warn you. Next time I will
not warn you anymore."

Heather straighted up in her seat. Somehow she couldn't keep her
attention to the math lesson. Many of the pupils of 5B couldn't either.
Were it the november storms approaching over the ocean? Or was it
simply the pop concert coming to town. Anyway, Miss Swores had a hard
time explaining math today. Why did quadratic equations have at most
two solutions? Why not one, or three? Heather's thoughts went astray
again.

"Alright, Heather, what did I say?", Miss Swores snapped.

"Uhh", oh, why wasn't she so ad rem as Joanne? She would have given
some answer, perhaps not correct, but at least funny. But Joanne
couldn't help Heather this time, because she was trying to memorize the
lyrics of the last song of the Burning B. Convention.

"Come here!"

Now the class finally became silent. It had been in the air during
almost an hour now. Someone would have to pay up and this one was
Heather. It was unfair, wasn't it? All these girls were much longer
here on this school than she. They knew what could happen if you talked
during class or weren't paying attention. They had felt the
consequences several times, probably all of them.

But Heather also knew the consequences and she had witnessed them
several times. And her cheeky friend Joanne had been called to the
front numerous times in the two months that Heather had been at this school.

Miss Swores had moved her chair from behind her desk to the front of
the class room. She sat down and waited for Heather. Heather didn't
want to delay things. She wanted to show that she really belonged to
this class and wasn't any less than the other girls. She walked to the
side of Miss Heather and bent over her lap.

"Aren't we forgetting anything, miss Homes?"

Shit, stupid mistake. Slowly she stood up again. She took hold of the
sides of her skirt and raised them to her waist. Quickly she bent
again.

"No, miss Homes, you must have seen this many times, stand up! Raise
your skirt! Alright...and keep it there. Very well,... "

Heather was standing in front of the class, her skirt held up high,
displaying her brief white knickers and a strip of bare flesh above
them. She had seen this scene several times, now she was the main
actress. She didn't want to, but she felt that she started blushing.

"Now you may lay down, what you wanted so desparately."

Little smirks could be heard. O, they were so solidary, the girls, but
it was always better if you were safely sitting at your desk in the
classroom and it was easy to laugh from that position.

Heather bent across Miss Swores' lap and bent her knees until she lay
with her head down and her bottom up.

SLAP!

Immediately, as if she didn't want to lose any more time, Miss Swores
started the spanking.

SLAP! SLAPP!!

Heather clenched her fists. She didn't want to cry. Definitely not. Not
in front of the class.

SSLAPP!!!

A hard slap just below her knickers made her let out a small cry. Oww!
That hurt. No tears, yet. Although Miss Swores wasn't a strong woman,
she did know how to make a spanking hurt, even over knickers.

After a few other yelps from Heather she knew that she had brought the
message across. This girl would give no problems anymore, at least for
a few lessons. She didn't want to humiliate the new girl more, or hurt
her severely. Better to reserve that for later, if needed.

"Very well, stand up and go to your seat."

Quickly, Heather scrambled to her feet. The walk to her seat was
awfully long. She didn't want to show that she felt it. No bottom
rubbing, no crying. Somehow, it felt to her that the only natural
postitions of her hands were at her bottom and at her eyes, and that's
where she didn't want to let them go. With her hands straight at her
sides she walked to her seat and sat down. Ow! Did anyone see her
flinch? The little squeeze in her arm from Joanne helped a bit.

In the lesson change, she couldn't help asking her best friend: "Was I
very stupid?"

"No, not at all, silly! --Although you could see it was your first
time...

Everybody tries to hide that she feels it. I did that too. But it's
better to use your energy to handle the pain than to avoid crying."

It wasn't unreasonable, what Joanne said. How long would it take to
take it like that? For the moment she was proud that she hadn't cried
and she didn't expect to get more experience soon. She was wrong,
however...



___________________________________________________




Heather's New School -- Part 2



by Weldon Vicary


___________________________________________________


The last lesson of the day was, as always on a Tuesday, chemistry.
Usually it was a mess. Mr. Smith was young and kind, probably too kind.
And he was simply no match for some of the girls in the fifth. Heather
wasn't one of those girls, originally. She was a modest girl, sometimes
even shy, and it was not her style to profile herself in a new
environment. But things were changing. It was now almost three months
that she attended the school and she felt part of the group. The chemistry
lesson was a good opportunity to show this and she discovered that she
liked it. She had a quick mind and she liked to use it to outwit Mr.
Smith instead of memorising German words. A few other things worked
together at the cause of events in the chemistry lesson that Tuesday
afternoon. Heather's beating the same morning had felt a bit like an
initiation to her. Not in the least because it happened in front of the
whole class and some girls had asked how it felt in the break
afterwards. Furthermore, Heather didn't know about the arrangement between
the deputy principal, Mrs. Miller, and Mr. Smith. To improve the order in
his lessons, he was advised to send any girl taht caused problems to
her and she would deal with the girl quickly and effectively. No
questions, no records. The headmistress needn't to know about it and Mrs.
Miller wouldn't question Mr. Smith's decision.

It was decided that the pupils would not be informed about the
arrangement and so it came that Heather entered the class room with a
happy expectation that the last lesson of the day would mean some fun.
And she would be one of the causes of the fun!

As always, the lesson started boring. Mr. Smith had decided to give a
small paper, just as if he was hesitating to try out the arrangement in
a regular lesson at once. Although Heather had asked sharply what the
mere purpose of this paper was, at the same time questioning the purpose
of chemistry as a whole and on this school in particular, she hadn't
really challenged Mr. Smith so far. After the paper her rebellious mood
had somewhat subsided, and she decided to read a pop magazine that
Joanne had borrowed from a friend. Joanne pointed out some interesting
articles and it wasn't long before they were engaged in a vivid
discussion about the Burning B. Convention.

"Heather and Joanne! What do you think you're doing?" Finally, Mr.
Smith had spotted the girls, or perhaps decided to say something about
it. A quick excuse could have normalised things, but Heather had not
forgotten her cheeky mood.

"Joanne says that you look like the bassist of the Burning B.
Convention, but I don't agree. Perhaps the..."

Laughter overtsemde her, then the class waited for the undoubtedly
clumsy reply of Mr. Smith. This reply came as a great surprise.

"Right, Homes and Falcon, you may leave this room immediately. Report
to Mrs. Miller!"

Quickly the two girls complied. Joanne managed to slip the magazine in
her satchel before they left the classroom.

"What has come over Smithy? He never dares to do a thing when the whole
class is laughing." As soon as they were in the corridor, Heather tried
to defend her stupid remark, indirectly. Joanne quickly assured her
that she wished she had said it herself.

"Although we have probably earned a caning, you know."

Heather turned white and her stomach knotted itself up. A caning! It
sounded so scary! Her self-assurance had gone. Quickly and completely.

Joanne knocked on the door of office of the deputy principal. Heather's secret
and irrational wish that she wouldn't be there wasn't granted.

"Come in!"

The girls shuffled in.

"What brings you here, girls?"

"Mr. Smith has sent us, miss."

"Were you disturbing the lesson, hm?" She came remarkably quickly to
the point, which saved the girls a painful explanation.

"Well, we shall deal with you right here and now. Hopefully, that
learns you to behave, even in the lessons of Mr. Smith."

The two girls did notice the allusion to the order problems of the
chemistry teacher. For them, it came too late as a warning for a
stronger regime of the staff.

Mrs. Miller took something out of a drawer and looked at the girls.
They stood next to each other, hands at their sides, little vulnerable
creatures in their blouses, skirts and knee socks. Heather looked at the
floor, but Joanne saw what Mrs. Miller took in her hands. She nudged
Heather and whispered: "We don't  get the cane!"

"What did you say, Falcon? Are you referring to this?"

She held up a long plastic ruler.

"Err... yes, Miss..." Joanne thought that it couldn't harm to stress
the leniency of the deputy. "I said that it wasn't a cane."

"Indeed, it isn't. It seems that you doubt its effectiveness. Perhaps
its better to assure you of that." She rose and walked to the girl.

"Lift your skirt. High up."

Joanne complied, revealing her brief red panties. Mrs. Miller stood in
front of the embarassed girl and looked her up and down. Then she
stepped aside and swung the ruler swiftly and expertly.

SPLAT!!

It hit the front of Joanne's thighs just below her panties. Joanne
left out a loud gasp. Tears sprung in her eyes. Before she was
recovered, the ruler swung again, this time hitting her right thigh with
the tip viciously hitting the inside of her leg.

SSPlATT!!

"Oww!" Joanne cried out and stepped back, hardly keeping her balance.

"And, miss Falcon, is that better than the cane?"

"No, miss", Joanne stammered, unable to hide the tears in her voice.

Mrs. Miller, apparently satisfied with her little cruelty, now turned
to Heather.

"You. Up with your skirt. Over the desk."

The painful humiliation of her admired friend had shaken Heather. How
could she endure only one swat with that thing? There was no escape,
though. With trembling fingers she lifted her skirt, ridiculously high
after her experience that morning, and walked clumsily to Mrs. Miller's
well cleared desk. She bent over the desk and thought at Joanne. Had
Mrs. Miller humiliated her friend on purpose, just to scare her?
Somehow this thought reassured a bit. Did the woman doubt the
effectiveness of the ruler on Heather's bottom?

"Heather, this is your first time here and I will be lenient with you.
You will recieve four strokes on your knickers." Without further ado
the punishment began.

SWAT!

Heather sucked the air between her teeth, but kept silent.

SSSWAT!

"Oww" Mrs. Miller's arm made a longer swing for that one and the effect
was audible. She paused for a while and Heather realised that she was
half way now. Maybe she could endure it.

SSSWATT!

"AAAHH!!"

Heather cried out loudly and she stood half up to put her hands to her
bottom. A flick with the ruler on her hands stifled the attempt
and she fell back on the desk, painfully squeezing her breasts.

"Next time you get up, you will get an extra stroke."

SWAT!

The last one. Heather kept herself carefully bent over, not desiring
any extra attention.

"Get up and stand back."

Heather complied and turned her attention to Joanne's punishment. She
felt sorry for her friend, but the sight of her upturned bottom in the
red panties attracked her eyes like a magnet. Mrs. Miller announced the
same punishment for Joanne, showing her feeling for justness.

"Same crime, same punishment." Joanne, however, with her throbbing
thighs pressed against the desk, had another view of Mrs. Miller's
fairness. She nevertheless withstood the four strokes well. Heather,
despite herself, looked fascinated to the red stripes that appeared at
the sides of the brief knickers.

When they walked to the library to spend the rest of the lesson,
Heather had recovered enough to make a kind remark.

"What a vicious old witch to hit you so mean!" Joanne mumbled some
answer. After a while she realised that her friend had tried to be kind and
she took herself together.

"You took that well, miss Homes."

And added in her mind:

"But wait till you get it on the bare."

Heather wasn't concerned about that, at the moment. She wanted to avoid
another spanking for any price. But some little corner of her mind said
she wouldn't be able to. And an even smaller corner wanted to know how
it felt like...

(to be continued)