Every girl in the school knew about it, even if they’d just heard the whispered rumours. They talked about it ominously, like a ghostly legend, or a terrible curse. And when it was discussed, it was only ever in hushed voices and the merest mumblings. It was the threat that hung over them all, the most feared punishment, the just deserts awaiting the perpetrators of the very naughtiest misbehaviour.
How many times had a group of friends begun to scheme some illicit hijinks, only for one of them to stop, and suddenly exclaim: “We can’t do that! We’d all do the Sit Down Dance for sure!”
There was no greater shame than to be summoned to the front of the class, having finally exhausted your teacher’s patience. And then having to stand there, head bowed, as she scribbled your name and misdemeanour onto a little red-bordered card. All while your classmates were excitedly whispering and sniggering just behind you…
“The Sit Down Dance! She’s going to do the Sit Down Dance!”
There was no greater embarrassment than pushing through the double doors of the staff wing, an area normally strictly off-limits for pupils, once the final bell of the school day had rung. Clutching your little red-bordered card to your chest, proffering it to each passing teacher, your pass to the inner sanctum, shirking with shame as they read your name and your crime, scowling disdainfully.
And there was no greater anxiety than trudging down the long corridor, past all the staff rooms and the Headmistress’ office. To shuffle inevitably towards the Punishment Room, tummy tumbling with trepidation.
The door to that notorious room was old and heavy, a dark mahogany hunk that looked incongruously out of place amidst the school’s modern decor, like a pirate ship had somehow been moored at the end of the corridor. Even just turning the ornate brass handle gave the feeling you were about to leave the modern world behind and step beyond into the captain’s cabin.
Visitors saw a small brass plaque mounted at eye-height, a few lines engraved in cursive writing for those about to enter to ponder. It was a quotation from long ago, from when school itself had still been young.
Heaven is not always angry when he strikes,
But most chastises those
Whom most he likes.
– John Pomfret
Alice could feel the dampness of her own palm as she gripped the handle, but after a moment’s hesitation, she pushed the heavy door ajar.
Yet no matter how many times Alice had visited the Punishment Room, the world beyond that antiquated door never failed to surprise her…
Next in the alphabetic retrospective of stories you might have missed is the epic four-part tale The Sit-Down Dance, its constituent parts being:
This story was an opportunity to revisit some of the characters I’d conjured into being in Punishment Panties a few years earlier, and was a world I greatly enjoyed revisiting. I’d had this story planned in my head (and sketched out in my notebook) for so long, so it was very satisfying to finally to be able to render it into written
words. 33,000 words as it turned out, the story grew in the telling.
Here’s a review that nicely captures how this story was received by many readers, judging by my inbox. And, in case you’re curious, some pictures of a naughty young lady doing The Sit-Down Dance courtesy of the lovely @asajones2.
What readers have said about this story:
“At the end of the story, I found myself grinning, curled into my
pillows, yearning to know what happens next! The vivid imagery, the wildly creative antics.,I’m finding myself a little tongued-tied at the moment, legs still
wobbly from post orgasm bliss, fingers trembling from the vigorous
rubbing they had just partaken in. I adored it. Truly!“
“I am amazed by how much Sir’s writings arouse me. So many details
in your stories seem like they have been plucked directly from my most
shameful desires. And when it came to this story there were so many of
Being summoned in front of the class to get your little red card,
everyone knowing what’s awaiting you when lessons are over. The walk to
the punishment room and having to show your little badge of shame to all
the teachers you pass. The imagery of the punishment room and the
girls’ preparation. And then the actual punishment, Sir.
It delighted me in such a wicked and shameful way! The position the
girls have to assume and the constraints to assure they retain the
proper posture. The tugging down of the panties and the inspection! The
tissue, Sir, and hav-… having your bottom wiped. The mere idea of
being sat on the potty, piddling like a little girl. Your Mistress or
Sir having to wipe you dry. How can things so debasing be at the same
time so arousing, Sir?”
What do you think?