Rectory of Correction by Amanita Virosa Page B

Reverend Dawes’ manhood still wedged deep inside her. Opening her eyes, the first thing she saw was the cane, lying on the coverlet. She pushed away the memory of abandoned behaviour in her crisis.
    Strong hands gripped her corseted waist and she was lifted, still impaled, and carried around to the bed. Only then did he pull her up and off him, with an audible plop. Faith found herself held out, stockinged feet some inches from the floor, before he tossed her easily on to the bed.
    â€˜Grip the bars behind you, girl, and spread them.’
    Faith did not need telling twice. On her back, she reached behind to grip the bars at the head of the brass bedstead, making sure her legs were spread wide before she dared turn to her master.
    He was naked now, washing his detumescent cock with water from a bowl. Faith watched her master’s lean body with a sort of anxious admiration. As he towelled his manhood dry it began to swell and stiffen again. He turned to her and his cock twitched in his hand as he perused her. Faith felt her whole body quiver under his gaze. She had to grip the bars tight to fight the urge to cover her exposed cunny.
    â€˜Right, you saucy little baggage,’ he growled, ‘ready to go again?’
    Â 
    â€˜Would you like some of this on yon weals, lass?’ Kirsty proffered the cold cream with a cheery smile.
    Amelia paused. The sense of relief she had felt in loosening the dreadful drawers was passing, and it occurred to her that the Scottish girl might speak to her more respectfully, but the cold cream did look inviting, and her bottom still throbbed so...
    â€˜Very well,’ she said with rather ill grace, after a moment’s hesitation, resolving that she would not put herself over Kirsty’s lap. Kirsty did not seem put out, however, but was apparently content to smooth the soothing ointment over Amelia’s welts as she stood in front of her.
    â€˜God, Bella, the man is an absolute brute. These weals are raised like burns...’
    â€˜Ow, not so rough, Charlotte, they still sting like the devil.’
    Charlotte smoothed cold cream on her friend’s martyred rump while Kirsty performed the same office for Amelia. Gretchen fiddled with her drawer laces whilst Linnet watched the others with wide eyes. Having been granted permission to unlace for ‘quiet time’ after lunch, all the girls were now naked except for their silk stockings. Only Gretchen still struggled to unfasten her drawers.
    â€˜Ach, it is a knot I cannot undo...’ she muttered as she struggled fruitlessly with the lacing. Amelia could not help but watch her with amusement. Despite her cruelly tight stays and drawers, Gretchen had eaten greedily at luncheon. Now, as she battled to remove her constrictive underclothes, her face had gone quite puce. At that moment there was a loud ripping sound and every pair of eyes in the dormitory turned her way.
    â€˜Oh no, what is...?’ Gretchen craned around to try to see the source of the sound.
    â€˜That’s torn it!’ Bella chortled.
    â€˜I wonder what the punishment is for that?’ Amelia said slyly.
    The woman’s drawers had split from top to bottom along the seam that ran between her bottom cheeks. Instantly several inches of pink flesh appeared in the gap. Gretchen felt the damage mournfully.
    â€˜You think he will punish me?’ she asked fearfully.
    â€˜Course he will, you fat trollop!’ Bella chortled.
    â€˜But yours split, too...’ Gretchen looked at the other girl, tears brimming in her pale blue eyes.
    â€˜Different,’ said Bella, getting up off Charlotte’s lap and patting her own bottom ruefully. ‘The Reverend split them with the cane. Don’t you remember? He said it was no disgrace to have one’s drawers split by the rod, but if we were to rip them through poor deportment we should expect no mercy.’
    Gretchen had finally got her lacing loosened and pulled her corset