Back to school at the Kinky Club
Madame M, who, with her benevolent authority, oversees my education, had asked me to take the dictation at the Kinky Club school , under the tutelage of Miss Calamity. The objective was clear: I had to achieve a perfect score. This would be the first time I would go to the club without Madame.
I had prepared my supplies, and my schoolbag was ready… I arrived at the club quite early, well before the scheduled time of the test. I entered right after Choke and was greeted with a smile by Miss Calamity. While all I had to do was give her my locker and take out my notebook, I managed to misplace it in less than two minutes, a sign that I was more flustered than I thought… But I eventually found it and entrusted my locker to Miss.
— You have number 13, perhaps that will bring you luck…
I went downstairs and found myself in a gathering composed entirely of men, except for Choke, who was talking with DirtyVonP at the bar… I greeted everyone with a general “hello” and sat down in an armchair. I noticed that some of the men were also carrying notebooks.
A long wait ensued… I wandered around the club a bit and found it still deserted… I lingered on the spanking bench in the room adjoining the bar, thinking it was very ergonomic and perhaps a little more comfortable than the one upstairs. What followed showed me that the notion of comfort when you're on it is quite relative and depends only very secondarily on the bench itself… But I'm getting ahead of myself…
The wait
After a while, Mademoiselle finally came downstairs, but she was still frequently interrupted by the door. People kept arriving, including Daniel (who massaged her feet), and Olivia. Seeing her was a surprise, as I hadn't seen her since that very first time at the club.
Miss Kassandra had also arrived. I had been able to witness her recent demonstration of her spanking skills, and had been very impressed by her precision, power, and seemingly limitless endurance.
She greeted several men who had notebooks, and whom she knew. A vague unease began to rise within me…
At the bar, DirtyVonP suggested Choke do a little warm-up on the spanking bench (before other fun activities planned for later, when he could actually get away from the bar). I got up to go watch the show… So he spanked her for a long time, with dedication, but she seemed to find the experience far too gentle, and joked around while DirtyVonP sweated and hurt his hands…
We were joined by a few curious onlookers, then by Miss Kassandra who asked a man to stand facing the St. Andrew's cross with his trousers down. She gave him a masterful spanking, which elicited a few cries from him towards the end.
I returned to my seat in an armchair, near Mademoiselle, who was being massaged by Daniel. After a few minutes, she stood up, and with Olivia and one of the men present (the one who had just been spanked, who had briefly considered participating in the dictation , but had apparently ultimately preferred to side with the teacher), they discreetly began discussing the practical details of organizing the test… But from a distance, I didn't miss a word of their hushed conversation. I understood that the dictation would have to be done on the floor, on one's knees. "Trousers down and bare bottom!" the man insisted. How cruel children at school can be to each other… The man would have to give the instructions, examine the outfits, right down to the fingernails!
All in line!
Finally, the bell signaling the end of recess rang, and the man announced the start of the ordeal. Olivia would be the head supervisor… He invited the spectators to report any inappropriate behavior or rule violations. As I had feared, the punishments would be administered by… Miss Kassandra! I started to sweat…
Mademoiselle arranged the participants (there were six of us), standing, in three columns of two. Then, as I expected, we were made to lower our trousers and expose our buttocks.
But the class had a few troublemakers, whose indiscipline rivaled their impertinence. They seemed far more accustomed to this sort of thing than I was (which wasn't saying much), and absolutely unafraid of punishment (quite the opposite, in fact...). One of these rascals was my neighbor to the right. He refused to lower his trousers, arguing that it was very embarrassing. I naively believed him, until he finally complied under Mademoiselle's now more authoritarian orders. We then discovered, beneath those trousers, a garter belt, a pair of stockings, and lace panties... The whole scene was designed to punish him for disobedience and draw even more attention to his attire.
We then had to position ourselves on all fours, with our buttocks in the air.
And the dictation began. In addition to the precarious position, the task was complicated by the dim light. Mademoiselle dictated very quickly, and the text was difficult:
The dictation
As they followed a path at random through the forest, they came to a crossroads where the path split, like a swan's foot, into three widely spaced branches. It was in this very place that Oedipus caused his father's death.
In the middle of the crossroads stood a marble hermaphrodite, ithyphallic and naked. Rhea, who never passed by a divine image without making an offering, hung her ivy crown on the phallus, and murmured the invocation.
A mirror and a caduceus were sculpted on the base. Below, these verses were engraved in large hollow letters:
"Son of Hermes, protect solitary travelers. Son of Aphrodite, choose their bedfellows."
The test was disrupted by Olivia, who, armed with a riding crop, walked among the students, taking a perverse pleasure in distracting them. Several times, she pointed the crop directly at my anus. She also jostled me, preventing me from writing at times.
I was having a lot of trouble, especially since I couldn't hear Mademoiselle very well, as she was sitting behind us (what a view she must have had!), and she rarely repeated her sentences. In addition, there was quite a bit of noise, between the somewhat unruly students and the audience who were trying to disrupt us by making numerous comments or distorting the text. One of the students (the one behind me, I think) also spent his time throwing paper balls.
The sanctions
But the test ended, and I managed to write the last few words just before Olivia collected the papers. We then had to wait like that, bottoms in the air, while the papers were being marked. But the students who were to be punished for impertinence were called up. The one who had thrown paper balls (at least I think it was him, since we had to keep our heads on the ground) had to stand across Miss Kassandra's knees, who gave him an interminable spanking, using every trick in the book to prolong it endlessly. She made him count, but accelerated the pace so much that it was almost impossible for him to keep up. Or she would suddenly increase the force of her blows so much that he lost count for a fraction of a second, which was enough to justify starting again. The student was still a little cocky at first, but that didn't last more than 30 seconds. It quickly became clear that he wanted things to stop, and he immediately set about counting without error, hoping the spanking would end. But inevitably, Miss Kassandra made him start again. At first, she made him begin after fifteen or twenty strokes. And then further and further back. I don't remember how many sets of fifty strokes he received before she finally let him count to one hundred! The session lasted a good five minutes, at a very brisk pace, and the student was no longer proud at all when he returned to his place.
Meanwhile, at one point, I felt a touch on my lower back that I didn't immediately identify. Then, I realized that Olivia was writing something there…
When the papers were corrected, we had to put our hands behind our heads, still on our knees.
The students were chosen one after the other. Their number of mistakes was revealed, and they had to sit on Miss Kassandra's lap.
It was decided that a ratio of five strokes per fault would be applied. But here again, injustice and arbitrariness reigned, and the final number of strokes often bore little resemblance to what was "due." For example, one of the students was supposed to receive very few strokes. But since he hadn't taken the initiative to count, they piled up endlessly until he understood. My turn came. The teacher told me my number of faults: four. I had therefore failed to meet my objective, and I wasn't proud of myself…
Moreover, a little later, Mademoiselle came to see me and said:
— So, oh, what happened? What will Madam say?
— She will be disappointed, Mademoiselle, I know it
It would appear that the best student in the class made only one mistake, which seems to me to be a rather exceptional performance in this context.
O's punishment
Once my grade was announced, I got up, not without some apprehension, to go and receive my punishment, which in theory was supposed to be limited to 20 strokes.
I positioned myself across Miss Kassandra's lap, and in doing so, I exposed my backside to everyone present. The inscription on my lower back then became visible to all. Some people started laughing when they saw it, and read it aloud: "DUMP!" I admit I was expecting worse. In this case, the label wasn't undeserved, and it justified my punishment…
Until then, I had received very few spankings, but from the very first strokes, I understood that I was dealing with a very particular kind of spanking, and the heat arrived very quickly, closely followed by the burning sensation. I counted diligently, of course, trying not to offer the slightest excuse to start again, and managed to finish without incident. But the man overseeing the dictation noticed that I had forgotten to thank Miss Kassandra at the end, and decided that everything had to start again. From now on, I would not only have to count, but also say "Thank you, Madam" between each stroke. I complied flawlessly, gritting my teeth, and the second set was approved.
I was able to return to my seat, my buttocks reddened…
One of my classmates (the most mischievous one) had pulled up his trousers after his punishment, and I did the same and sat down on a pouf. Big mistake! When Mademoiselle saw me, she pointed it out, and as I tried (cowardly, I must admit) to justify myself by saying that my classmate had done the same, she asked me in a dry voice:
— Are the students giving the instructions now?
So I quickly found myself back on my knees, pants down and buttocks exposed. Waiting in this position was becoming quite trying.
Impertinent Daniel
Daniel was sitting in the same position, next to me. Looking at him, Mademoiselle ordered me to spread my thighs. I wasn't sure if this order was only for him, and in doubt, I complied as well.
She noticed that the situation seemed to excite Daniel, which upset her. She made him approach so that Miss Kassandra could see for herself what was happening.
"We need to whip this," she said.
"That might excite him even more," said Mademoiselle.
— Maybe if we played golf or marbles, that would calm him down…
Daniel smiled, not seeming to really understand what it was all about.
"On your back!" ordered Miss Kassandra. "Spread your legs!"
Daniel was still clearly delighted to be the object of attention from Mademoiselle and Miss Kassandra.
She then grabbed a riding crop and, standing next to him with her legs spread and arms outstretched, in a perfect golfer's swing, struck Daniel's balls (with measured force), who let out a small cry, both of surprise and pain.
"Don't move!" she ordered, as Daniel instinctively cowered under the impact.
She repeated her movement several times, each time eliciting a cry from Daniel. Mademoiselle was very amused by this new version of golf that she seemed to be discovering.
"He doesn't seem to be enjoying it... Perhaps he'd prefer we play marbles?" wondered Miss Kassandra.
She knelt beside Daniel and, curling her middle finger against her thumb as one does when playing marbles, flicked a testicle, which instantly provoked a louder cry than before, and frantic movements. On the other side of Daniel, Mademoiselle quickly joined her. Each played with her "marble," flicking it back and forth at a brisk pace.
"Ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch!" cried Daniel, writhing and unable to catch his breath.
The remedy, though short-lived, apparently proved effective, for Daniel was now clearly "calmed down." And Mademoiselle, satisfied with this result, sent him back to his seat.
Poetry
"And now it's time for the recitation," announced Mademoiselle. "Who has learned the poem?"
And the most disruptive student raises his hand.
He then began to recite, still mischievously, sometimes pausing to suggest he didn't know the rest of the verse, or using an ironic and playful tone. And then, in a final act of provocation, in the last line, instead of saying " fuck the sonnet, what do you think? ", he said " fuck the Mistress, what do you think? ". He was clearly demanding punishment, and as you can imagine, his wish was quickly granted, once again by the expert hand of Miss Kassandra…
I myself had made the effort to learn the poem by heart. I knew it well (and besides, I had taken advantage of the long wait before the dictation to go over it in my head several times).
But I knew that if I had to recite it in front of everyone, I would lose my composure, stumble, and be punished. And unlike my classmate, this prospect worried me. Besides, it was already late, and I didn't have much time left. So I finally decided to remain silent…
I, who naively thought I'd escape a spanking through this cowardice, was the one who did me in. For, full of generous concern, Miss Calamity and Miss Kassandra decided that, having been the most well-behaved, I deserved a well-earned reward. And Miss Calamity, with a smile, asked me to go and sit on the spanking bench, where Miss Kassandra would bestow her services upon me…
I was torn between amusement at the undeniable irony of the situation, and fear of what lay ahead.
With surprising gentleness, Miss Kassandra asked me to get into position. I told her how impressed I'd been by her performance during her demonstration at the club the previous month. And I confessed my apprehension, given my inexperience and the power of her hand. She told me she'd limit herself to about fifty strokes. And she did, with a perfect gradation of force. Things started gently (well, everything is relative, because the impacts were still firm, sharp, and quick), and ended with searing blows that made me finish the count shouting out the last few numbers. My backside was literally on fire. I realize this account will bring a smile to the faces of the regulars…
Mademoiselle was surprised by our quick return, and Miss Kassandra told her that it had been deliberately moderated.
While the shouts I heard in the distance testified to the games that were now taking place, I already had to leave, and I said goodbye to Miss Calamity and DirtyVonP.
In her great kindness, Madame M did not hold my poor performance in this first exam against me too much…
