I walked down the hallway towards the study, where all discipline in the house was administered. Of course Rachel, my eldest daughter, was already stood to attention beside the door correctly attired in her uniform and standing to attention with her hands on her head waiting for me. She knew my expectations regarding punctuality, as indeed she knew my expectations on most things. At 21, she had now had enough time to learn that although I was only her step mother, I was still the authority figure of the household and had been ever since I married her father almost 2 years earlier. Rachel seemed to have eventually adapted well to my rules and regime in a way which her 19 year old younger sister, Isabelle, had not yet managed. She would be reporting to the study later on in the day - as the eldest, Rachel had the privilege of having her mandatory Sunday discipline administered first.
Without acknowledging her presence I opened the door to the study and walked through, closing it gently behind me. Rachel had to be on time but that didn't mean she couldn't be made to wait. The study was a large room which was sparsely furnished. The main item was a heavy oak desk with a matching straight backed chair behind it. The wall behind the desk had a large floor to almost ceiling window which looked out over some of the remote countryside the house was set in. I sat down behind the desk and smoothed down the black pencil skirt, complemented by a long sleeved fitted white blouse, that I habitually wore for conducting discipline sessions. I reflected on Rachel's behaviour and manners over the course of the proceeding week and had to admit she had done very little to incur additional punishment on top of her usual maintenance discipline, which I was a little disappointed about. A few minutes after I had entered the study, I called her in.
Rachel walked in at once, closed the door behind her and then came to stand in front of the desk. She resumed her attention stance - legs together, hands on her head, elbows and shoulders in line - as I studied her appearance. She was 5-6, and had dyed her hair blonde from her natural light brown. It reached well past her shoulders and she had tied it in a simple plait today. Her bright blue eyes peered straight ahead from her very attractive features which she had emphasised with discrete make up. The uniform she wore was deliberately based on the uniform she had worn to school which I knew Rachel in particular resented.
Her short sleeved fitted white blouse was incredibly tight against her very ample bust, which was made more prominent by the uplift balcony bra that was also part of her uniform regulations. But the blouse also hinted at the slimness of her waist and the flatness of her stomach as it cut inwards beneath her chest. Her black pleated skirt was not tight but was short, finishing just a third of the way down her thighs. Her legs were then bare apart from white ankle socks and black kitten heeled shoes. Her uniform was completed by the regulation underwear I knew she would be wearing which was a pair of white, figure-hugging high cut cotton knickers. I again found myself disappointed that I could find no fault with her appearance. She had ironed the blouse faultlessly, the skirt was sitting perfectly and her shoes were so well polished they gleamed.
Rules and discipline had to be enforced persistently, but also consistently. I had no reason at all to add to Rachel's discipline on the basis of her appearance, no matter how much I wanted to. Credit, as well as punishment, had to given when it was appropriate to do so.
"Excellent uniform, Rachel," I told her, "well done."
"Thank you, Mother," she replied formally.
"And a very good week from you generally," I complemented her. "No punishments and no major demerits. You have been a good girl."
Rachel smiled in response, sensing she would soon be out the study without suffering too much.
"Just one minor demerit all week in fact," I pointed out. "You accidentally left a pair of Isabelle's underwear on my laundry pile."
"My apologies Mother," Rachel replied.
Sometime ago Rachel would have tried to make an excuse, perhaps pointing out because I was only nine years older than Rachel and we all had similar figures, we all wore similar styles of clothing and underwear. But now she quite rightly just accepted the criticism and took the punishment for it without complaining. Rachel's behaviour had really improved during my time in the household.
"Thank you Rachel I will just add two strokes to your maintenance discipline this morning."
I could see she thought that an extra two on top of the mandatory six was a little harsh for such a minor error but she didn't protest and instead thanked me.
There was nothing else to say really. I told Rachel again how well she had behaved during the week and how pleased I was with her generally and then gave her the instruction to prepare to receive her discipline.
Sunday discipline and most punishments required the girls to attend in uniform for the preliminary discussion, but the discipline itself required the removal of blouse, bra and skirt. Rachel always removed her clothes primly, in contrast to Isabelle's more defiant approach. Rachel unbuttoned her blouse and slid it off her arms, before folding it neatly and placing it on a stool beside the door. She returned to stand directly in front of me and I couldn't help but admire her toned abdomen and her large breasts which her bra was struggling to contain before she reached behind herself, unhooked the bra and pulled it forwards off herself. Again I experienced a small pang of jealousy at the sight of her large, firm breasts. The last time I had measured her she had been a 32DD which was two cup sizes larger than my own. The bra was folded and placed on top of the blouse and again she returned to stand before me before undoing the clasp of her skirt and pushing it to the floor. Rachel stepped out of it, picked it up and added it to the small pile of clothes on the stool before standing before me and re-adopting her attention pose.
Now I stood from my chair behind the desk. A rack of hooks on the wall next to the desk contained a comprehensive range of discipline implements but Sunday discipline was always administered with the leather strap so I selected it without hesitation, and looped the cord which it had hung from around my wrist. I moved slowly around the desk and paused to slip my heels off so I was walking in just my stocking clad feet. Rachel had once asked why I did this and I had explained it was because balancing on heels meant I couldn't swing as hard. Rachel was a very intelligent young woman and she had immediately understood then that the administration of discipline was the most important thing to me about these sessions.
When I was beside Rachel I pointed to the desk. She moved towards it and bent herself over, making sure her palms and forearms were in contact with it and that her elbows were bent at a right angle and directly underneath her shoulders. Isabelle usually earned herself extra for not getting the position right first time even now but Rachel made no such errors.
"Widen your stance a little, please," I asked politely, but of course it was an order rather than a request.
Rachel obliged and then I pressed down lightly on the small of her back to make her arch it a little more than she was doing, pushing her bottom up and out. Her regulation underwear allowed her to retain some dignity but her firm, toned buttocks were prominently exposed. Only serious offences were punished with knickers lowered or removed and these offences were usually coupled with additional Clothing Discipline sanctions afterwards.
"Face front," I reminded Rachel and she very obediently raised her head to look forwards.
I positioned myself to the side of Rachel and placed the strap against her waiting bottom.
"Ready?" I asked.
