Spilt Milk

by Sarah Steel

  'Dancing at the Carlton,' Alice replied, wholly unperturbed.

  'Dancing? The Carlton?' Matron spluttered. 'You should have your head in your books, girl—'

  'Can't make me,' Alice retorted defiantly. 'If I choose—'

  'How dare you, you little brat. "If I choose—" Let me tell you, I have seen war and it can only be waged with determination and discipline. You lack both, girl, but I am going to see to it that you change your attitude this instant. Bend over that desk.'

  Alice swallowed - a soft, gulping sound - but remained standing. Matron pounced, grappling the languid girl down across the desktop and pinning her face down by the nape of her neck.

  'Lift up your skirt. Right up, girl. Come along. I want your bottom.'

  Outraged, Alice wriggled and squealed. Matron dragged the hem of the striped uniform skirt up, revealing the bending girl's black-stockinged thighs and then her snow-white cotton panties. Exposed so suddenly, the rounded cheeks clenched in a reflex of alarm.

  'You can't—' Alice protested.

  'Oh, but I can - and I damn well will,' Matron snarled. 'Submit to my authority or leave my hospital at once.'

  Alice, who planned to make her fortune on the dowager circuit in the Shires to which her cut-glass vowels entitled her, could not risk expulsion. Calculating briskly that even her Kensington pedigree could not gloss over such disgrace, she signalled her submission and ceased writhing, surrendering to Matron's authority.

  Matron's free right hand dragged the white cotton panties from the plump cheeks, leaving them at the bending nurse's knees. Alice shivered as she felt Matron palming her bared bottom, and bit her lip. She had escaped the ministrations of the dorm at boarding school and had not had her bottom spanked since Cook had caught her guzzling glazed quail on the night of her reception for the Dutch Ambassador.

  Spank. Spank. Cook had been fierce, but Matron proved a ruthless chastiser. Spank. Spank. Sweeping her firm palm repeatedly, Matron reddened the wobbling cheeks instantly. Alice squeezed her buttocks defensively, her cleft becoming a thin crease of defiance, but Matron's searing palm sought out the outer curves of the naked bottom and blistered them unpityingly. Alice yelped, her left leg raised, her white rump treading the empty air. Spank, spank.

  'No - please—' Alice whined.

  Spank, spank. Again and yet again, Matron punished the soft cheeks harshly, eliciting a shrill squeal from the punished nurse. Hampered by her panties stretched between her knees and by the pinioning hand at the nape of her neck, Alice could not escape the scalding onslaught. Blubbing now in her pain and shame, she pressed her wet face down into the polished desktop. Spank - and then seven more severe blows in rapid succession - ensured that the creamy cheeks were now ablaze and every soft curve of the plump flesh burnt red.

  'That should suffice - for now,' Matron rasped, palming the swell of the spanked cheeks. 'Now stand up, girl,' she barked.

  Alice, tears spilling from her eyes, fumbled blindly for her panties, wincing as they returned to cup and stretch across her blistering cheeks.

  'Now get along to your room, girl, and open your books and keep your empty head in them until it is filled with enough knowledge to pass your finals.'

  After Alice had scampered out of the office, Matron bent down and picked up a stray pubic curl from the desk top - from the spot where the spanked nurse had kissed the polished wood with her exposed pubis.

  The rain was falling softly, the droplets rustling the waxy leaves of the rhododendrons. The clouds concealed the moon. At the back of the nurses' quarters - with all the curtains drawn - the darkness was intense.

  The rhododendrons rustled more vigorously as three shadowy figures, tiptoeing and giggling, threaded their way through the wet foliage. A soft click was followed instantly by a powerful torch beam. Three startled faces stared guiltily into the shaft of blinding light.

  'I thought I told you there were to be no more late nights,' Matron snarled, lowering the torch.

  Poppy and Henrietta gasped their alarm; Alice turned and plunged into the wet bushes.

  'Alice,' Matron barked out sharply. 'Come back. Come back this instant.'

  Alice obeyed, her eyes widening with fear.

  'Follow me,' Matron ordered the three shivering girls as she clicked off and pocketed her torch. 'There is no need for you to sneak in through the kitchen window like alley cats. We will use the front door.'

  Upstairs, in the communal bathroom, Matron told her captives to strip and get into tepid baths.

  'You do not deserve the luxury of hot water. A tepid bath will suffice.'

  The three girls groaned but Matron was adamant. Arms folded, she mounted guard and patrolled outside the three cubicles as her captives stripped and bathed.

  Matron strode into the first cubicle, entering without knocking.

  'I am very angry,' she told Poppy, who drew her knees up modestly to her breasts as she shivered in the lukewarm water. 'Very angry. I specifically said there were to be no more late nights. You should be at your studies. Now get out of that bath and dry yourself quickly,' Matron snapped, showing no sign of leaving the cubicle.

  Poppy hesitated, then pulled up the plug and stretched her across the rim of the tub for a large, white towel. Wrapping it around her shining nakedness, shielding her breasts and pubic nest from Matron's searching gaze, she patted herself dry.

  'Hurry up, girl,' Matron rasped, loosening the leather belt at her waist. 'It's long past eleven and I want you beaten and in bed before midnight.'

  'B-beaten?' Poppy stammered, dropping her towel in alarm.

  'You've broken the rules and your promises to me, girl. If the only way I can get you through your finals is with this—' Matron snapped the leather belt harshly '—so be it. Touch your toes. No, bend down more, girl. Get your bottom right up.'

  Poppy's pony-tail curled down over her right shoulder as she obeyed Matron's instructions. Her slender legs trembled and her plump little cheeks dimpled as they surrendered to the imminent lash.

  Matron took a pace back and raised her belt up, snapping it down across the naked buttocks of the bending girl and blistering them with a thin red weal. Poppy's tiny toes scrunched the cork tiles. Swish, crack. Poppy gasped and, stumbling forward, collided into the side of the bath tub. Steadying herself with one hand, she swept the other hand protectively against her whipped cheeks.

  'Take your hand away at once, girl. At once.'

  Whimpering, Poppy shook her head. Her pony-tail danced frantically. Reluctantly, she dropped her hand down to her thigh. 'Please - I'm sorry - Don't—'

  Swish, crack. Twice more the leather belt lashed down to bite into her softly rounded cheeks. They tightened, quivering in pain as the red lines branding the plump flesh deepened into a purplish blue.

  Matron shouldered her belt. 'Now get along to your room,' she murmured, dragging her index finger down along the cleft between the striped buttocks. 'Straight to bed, understand?'

  Poppy sniffled but managed to reply in a whisper.

  'Understand?' Matron demanded.

  'Yes, Matron,' Poppy replied, wiping her tears away with the back of her hand, then gathering up her clothes hastily and crushing them to her breast.

  'One moment,' Matron whispered fiercely. 'I happen to know that you have hardly any money at the moment. Who paid for your little excursion tonight?'

  'Alice,' Poppy murmured, trembling.

  'I see,' Matron cut in firmly. 'Off to bed with you.'

  As Poppy scuttled out of the cubicle, Matron wound her belt tightly around her right hand.

  In the adjacent cubicle, Henrietta had already dried herself and was struggling desperately into her bra and panties. Alarmed by the sounds of punishment - and suffering - quite audible through the thin partition wall, she was determined to escape Matron's wrath.

  'Take those off, Henrietta; I'm not done with you yet.'

  She turned her pale face, framed by tousled chestnut curls, to find Matron standing in the doorway, her
belt unfurling slowly from her hand.

  'But Matron, I—'

  'Disobeyed me. Bend over,' Matron commanded, tapping the edge of the bath tub with the tip of her belt. 'I am going to see to it that you qualify next month.'

  Henrietta's damp curls curtained her face as she bent down over the white porcelain tub, her hands spread wide apart to support her weight. In her confusion and fear, she had neglected to take off her bra and panties. Reaching up awkwardly at her back, she strained to undo the clasp of her bra.

  'Leave that alone,' Matron snarled. 'I will attend to you myself.'

  Her green eyes widened in fear as the bending girl pressed her thighs together in response to Matron's approach. Inching up against the pantied buttocks, Matron placed her hands dominantly down upon the wide hips, capturing and controlling the girl she was about to beat with her cruel belt.

  'Stay absolutely still,' Matron warned, as her nimble fingers undid the clasp and loosened the bra, instantly sweeping around to the bulging breasts to catch the tumbling cups. Matron's thighs scissored and trapped Henrietta's buttocks as the bra was dragged away. The bare-breasted girl hissed as Matron's fingertips briefly caressed her exposed, peaking nipples.

  Kneeling, Matron slowly palmed the panties down from the swollen cheeks. She heard the chestnut-curled girl whimper aloud as the cotton was plucked away from her deep cleft. Matron did not leave the panties at the knees but snatched them down over her victim's feet. Pausing, her grey eyes gazed steadily at the curves and shadows of the delicious bottom. The cheeks spasmed, the cleft becoming a fierce crease, as Matron's warm breath grew ever closer to the satin flesh. Matron's nostrils flared as they caught the haunting whiff of carbolic. The kneeling chastiser felt her wet labia tingle. There was nothing quite so intoxicating as the proximity of a freshly washed girl's bare bottom: a bare bottom that was poised for its impending punishment.

  'Twelve strokes,' Matron's voice - now a fierce whisper - pronounced. Rising, she picked up the belt and doubled it in her fist. Bending over her victim, she dangled the belt down before Henrietta's green eyes.

  'Twelve strokes.'

  'No - Please—'

  'You have been a wicked, wilful girl,' Matron purred, trailing the leather down Henrietta's shoulder and spine until it tapped the curve of her upturned cheeks. 'Very wicked. If you won't study for your exam as I advised, then perhaps you will learn from this painful lesson.'

  Crack. Crack. The chestnut curls flounced as the naked girl twisted and jerked in response to the searing strokes. Crack. Crack. The third and fourth slicing strokes followed almost immediately, striping the gorgeous bottom with pink kisses from the Judas hide. Crack. Crack. Grinding her feet and squealing, Henrietta took her medicine very badly. Her bottom was heavily fleshed, the cheeks full and ripely rounded, offering the leather more flesh to lash. Crack. Crack. The belt swiped down again and again, rocketing the nude into a threshing frenzy. Matron paused and shouldered her belt.

  'Spread your legs, girl,' she whispered, her tone as soft as if sharing an intimate secret. 'I want your bottom big and round for the remaining strokes.'

  Henrietta sobbed aloud and stubbornly kept her thighs welded together. Leaving her belt at her shoulder, Matron planted her hands - thumbtips touching at the nude's cleft - on the whipped cheeks, then forced the buttocks apart. Deep down in the shadowed cleft, Matron saw the pink sphincter winking wetly.

  'I told you to spread your thighs, girl.'

  Henrietta obeyed, inching her legs apart. Her cleft widened. Matron raised her left knee up and guided her nyloned shin into the shadowed divide between the whipped cheeks, grunting repeatedly with delight at the heat at her stockinged leg. A sudden thrill ravished the dominant chastiser; she taloned her hands and squeezed Henrietta's captive cheeks viciously as she felt a wet trickle from the nude's sparkling plum. It was unmistakable. Matron glanced down. Dragging her knee deliberately down between the splayed cheeks, she rasped the cleft harshly then withdrew. Yes. A wet stain on the sheen of her nylon betrayed her victim's liquid bubble of arousal. To Matron's mounting excitement, she saw that Henrietta was responding pleasurably to her pain. Something to note for future reference. Something Matron would explore, at leisure, with the girl with the chestnut curls.

  In her delicious confusion of the discovery, Matron forgot precisely how many strokes of the belt she had administered. Matron liked to be precise; discipline depended upon exactitude. She fingered the weals across the punished girl's bottom, counting silently, but the thin, red lines had merged into a broad blush of crimson suffering. Snatching her belt down from her shoulder, she swiped the swollen cheeks nine times in swift succession: Henrietta danced and squealed as the leather brought renewed flames of fierce heat to her buttocks. Lowering her belt, Matron adopted a soft tone and instructed the nude to gather up her scanties and go to her bedroom.

  Fumbling for her bra and panties - together with the rest of her scattered attire - Henrietta hugged them to her wet slit and dashed out of the communal bathroom, her loud sobs echoing down the corridor.

  In the bathroom, Matron carefully released her stocking from its suspender, peeled it down and held it aloft to inspect the ooze that had escaped from Henrietta's pouting labia. Moments later, Matron lowered the soiled stocking down to her lips.

  Six minutes later, the belt-wielding punisher strode into the third cubicle to whip Alice's bottom. Fully expecting the insolent girl to be shivering anxiously - having heard the punishments in the nearby cubicles - Matron was surprised to find Alice's cubicle empty. The predator snapped her leather belt angrily: her prey had flown.

  The door was locked. Matron tried the handle vigorously, then tapped sharply - three times - ordering Alice to open it. Her command was met with silence from beyond the locked door.

  'I know you are awake, girl. Very well,' she added as the stubborn silence lengthened, 'I will deal with you in the morning.'

  A little later, Matron approached the locked door, her brogues in her left hand, Poppy propelled by her right. Under Matron's orders, Poppy gently tried the handle and then knocked gently.

  'Alice, it's me.'

  The key turned softly, clicked, and the door inched open. Sweeping Poppy aside, Matron stormed into the bedroom. 'Back to bed, girl,' she barked, dismissing her Trojan horse brusquely. 'Now, Alice,' she murmured, 'I think it's time you and I had a little chat.'

  Startled by Matron's sudden - and totally unexpected - appearance, Alice stumbled backwards against her bed.

  Matron nodded grimly. 'That's right. On the bed. Face down and kneeling. Bottom up and hands together on the pillow where I can see them.'

  'No,' Alice, naked and shivering, hissed defiantly. She grabbed a vest and struggled into it. 'You can't—'

  'But I can and I will, my girl. You have flouted my authority and led the other girls astray.'

  'I'm going tomorrow,' Alice shouted, 'so you—'

  'Will have to punish you tonight. On the bed, now. You may go tomorrow, Alice,' Matron continued suavely, asserting her absolute authority. 'I have not quite decided whether to expel you. You are so very clearly a bad influence. The imminent need for nurses must be acknowledged, however, and so I may allow you to remain. I will punish you now and sleep on the matter.'

  Alice gasped but remained silent, not daring to argue with the dominant Matron, whose leather belt gleamed under the light bulb. Head bowed as her defiance ebbed, and fear flooded in, she tugged nervously at the hem of her stretchy vest. As she pulled it down over her proud pubic mound, the fabric moulded and pronounced the swell of her bosom above.

  'If,' Matron concluded, snapping the belt, 'I persuade myself to allow you to remain to qualify, in the national interest, it must be clearly understood that you will submit completely to my authority and strict discipline. Now get on the bed and give me your bottom.'

  Alice sat down heavily, her bare bottom dimpling the mattress. In a last-minute bid to escape her pain, she bargained frantically. 'I'll study, I promis
e. Every evening—'

  'I know you will. You can depend upon it, girl. Face down; you are to be punished.'

  The languid girl suddenly burst into action, making a spirited dash for the door. Matron easily intercepted and mastered her, dragging the wriggling girl back to her bed and forcing her face-down and positioning her for the lash.

  'I was going to use my belt,' Matron panted, breathless after the flurry of exertion. 'I see it as fitting. A symbol of my authority. But for you, girl, I think I'll need it to keep you exactly as I want you.'

  Binding Alice's wrists together with the band of leather, she dragged the kneeling girl's hips up and arranged the protesting girl's bottom, leaving the peach-cheeks poised for their pain.

  'We don't want to disturb all the others, do we?' Matron whispered. 'They have all earned a good night's sleep.' She forced a handkerchief gag into Alice's mouth. 'Now,' Matron mused aloud. 'I think we'll have need of your hairbrush.'

  Twisting her wrists in their leather bondage, Alice grunted into her gag as Matron returned from the dressing table, hairbrush in hand. Inverting the stiff bristles so that the smooth pear-wood surface addressed the upturned buttocks, the chastiser tapped the cheeks of the bound nude she proposed to chastise.

  'You enjoy so many advantages that Poppy and Henrietta do not,' Matron remarked. 'You have pedigree and privilege, Alice. When the war comes, it is to girls like you that all will turn to for leadership and discipline. Until that moment comes, I will give you all the discipline you both deserve and require.'

  The brief sermon ceased - then the pear-wood spoke. Swish, swipe. Swish, swipe. The smooth wood flattened the rounded cheeks each time it cracked down against them, eliciting smothered squeals from the kneeling nurse. Alice struggled and almost broke free, but Matron merely dragged the tight vest up over her victim's head, rendering her completely helpless. Tapping the hairbrush, bristles uppermost, into the spilling breasts, Matron ordered Alice to remain perfectly still while her bottom was being spanked. Alice clenched her cheeks as the bristles rasped her exposed nipples.