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."
