Further Training

by Sarah Veitch

  'So get used to it,' Ms Dear replied in a slangy and unheadmistressly way.

  Mr Steen nodded his head. 'It'll make clear to you that you should appreciate what you have, Charlotte. You had a perfectly nice uniform and shouldn't have been so anxious to trade it in.'

  'Yes, sir,' she mumbled. She hated the man but felt a sense of loss when he and the headmistress walked away. Her watch showed that it was a full two hours until she could ask Christine for her clothes back. She was damned if she'd skulk around naked until then.

  Charlotte waited until the school staff were out of sight then she walked towards the tower that they'd indicated to her. To reach it, she had to cross several fruit and vegetable fields and the third such field boasted a scarecrow dressed in a scarlet coat.

  It would have to do. After checking to see that the coast was clear, Charlotte unbuttoned and untied the garment from the wooden figure. She shrugged the summer coat on and was glad to find that it was made of very light linen and stopped above her knees. The colour made her conspicuous but at least she felt less vulnerable now that she was no longer nude.

  It was time to go window shopping in the little stores - though Charlotte realised that might be the wrong term given that the stores didn't have glass. Instead they had open wooden shutters. She went back to the juice bar and peered around the open doorway, relieved to see that the men who'd mocked her had gone.

  'What can I get you?' a pleasant female voice asked and Charlotte shielded her eyes against the sun and squinted until she saw the middle aged woman emerging from the backshop.

  'Er, I'd love a mango juice but how much is it?' she asked.

  The woman looked amused. 'It's free. Everything here is free. I take it you're a new girl?'

  The British girl nodded. 'Well, new to isle two. I was on isle one before.'

  The woman picked up a flagon of juice and removed the airtight lid.

  'Well, we have the same rules as on isle one when it comes to commodities. Everyone works hard; everyone shares in the food and drink plus anything that we import via our guests from other countries.'

  'I'll drink to that,' Charlotte said with feeling, accepting a long glass from the storeowner and drinking fast.

  'Take your time,' the storeowner said. 'Here, have a seat.' She pulled out a stool from under the counter.

  'Thanks but no thanks. I've people to see,' the younger girl said.

  She left before the woman could find out that she'd lied. In truth it was ages yet till she had to see Christine but she wanted to explore the other shops and find out what she could about the isle.

  The second shop was a food shop with jars filled with unshelled peanuts and baskets overflowing with large oranges, peaches and vine tomatoes. Charlotte wandered around looking for a chocolate bar. The elderly man behind the counter smiled at her as he put unshelled walnuts and brazils into paper bags.

  'Have you any sweets?' Charlotte asked at last.

  'Sweet fruits,' the man replied.

  'No, I mean chocolate.'

  The storeowner shook his head. 'The diet here is as natural as possible.' He ducked behind the counter and produced a large carrier bag. 'Take this. It's guaranteed to raise your energy.'

  Looking inside, Charlotte could see a banana, a green and a red apple, a small pineapple, a piece of coconut and a bottle of water.

  'Gee,' she said without enthusiasm, 'thanks.'

  Aware of the man's puzzled eyes upon her back, she wandered outside and onto the next store which offered fishing gear. Another store specialised in mosquito netting, insecticides and moth balls whilst its neighbour concentrated on sun lotions, sun hats and after-sun cream. Charlotte helped herself to a bottle of each plus a sun hat and ignored the way the other female customers stared at her scarlet coat. At least they couldn't see her equally scarlet buttocks which had now begun to itch fiercely as they recovered from the cane.

  When she'd exhausted the shops, Charlotte moved on to the beginning of a small forest and sat on a sun warmed bench. Feeling slightly bored, she munched a little of the coconut and drank some of the water. She examined the pineapple, deciding that she would have it and the banana at lunchtime. She looked at the two apples, a fruit she'd always loathed, with distaste.

  She'd ditch them here. Charlotte looked around for an outdoor bin but the Training Grounds didn't seem to offer them. As she glanced about, she saw some unidentified fruit hanging from a very tall tree. Ah, there was a thought - she could use the apples to knock down the tempting cargo. With any luck they'd lodge in the branches and never be seen again.

  The twenty-something stood up, pulled back her right arm and took aim. She threw the apple as hard as she could - then heard a flapping noise and a screech followed by the fluttering arrival of a feather. Seconds later its apparent owner, a large green parrot, fell out of the tree and lay still.

  Fuck, she'd stunned - and possibly killed - this poor thing. Charlotte turned to flee just as the fruit shop owner left his shop to check out the commotion. Charlotte took a deep breath and ran as fast as she could in the direction of Christine's house. She only slowed down when she was sure that no one was chasing her and walked the rest of the way at a more measured pace. When she reached the relevant cottage she sat outside and opened the red coat to apply her new sun tan lotion then sat back and dozed fitfully in the morning warmth, occasionally nibbling at the fruit to keep hunger pangs at bay.

  At exactly midday, just as the heat was becoming unbearable and she'd moved to a facing tree to enjoy the shade, she heard Christine's window being opened from the inside and watched the curtains being pulled back. Oh good, the seamstress must be out of bed at last. Now she'd let her have brunch Charlotte thought, congratulating herself on her newfound thoughtfulness.

  Half an hour later she knocked timidly on the door. To her surprise a man of around her own age answered.

  'I've come to see Christine to get my school uniform back,' Charlotte said, realising that she sounded inane.

  'Ah, you must be the school girl she had to take the ruler to,' the man replied, grinning lasciviously. 'Unfortunately she's blotted her own copybook since then so I'm about to take her in hand.'

  Charlotte walked into the cottage and was surprised to be confronted by one of the largest bare bottoms she'd ever seen. She'd forgotten until that moment just how obese Christine was, and how unathletic. Now the seamstress was bound with several leather straps to a bolster-shaped punishment device. It resembled a slender gym horse - though it was very apparent that its rider wasn't going anywhere soon.

  'I was about to take the dressage whip to her but now that there's two of us we can use the twin paddles,' the man said. He ruffled her hair. 'I'm Mr Pickering, by the way. I oversee the bananas.'

  'Oh? I doubt if they'll give you much trouble,' Charlotte quipped.

  Mr Pickering stared at her for a moment then seemed to allow his repressed sense of humour to surface. He smiled thinly. 'Let's paddle this arse.' He delved into an open sports bag near his feet and produced what looked like ping pong bats but with a smoother surface. 'You tan her left cheek and I'll tan her right.'

  Charlotte stared at the enormous pale buttocks in front of her then weighed the heavy bat in her hands. Could she actually do this?

  'What did Christine do wrong?' she asked, stalling for time.

  'She was making an outfit for a young man, one of the miscreants, and got carried away. Let's just say that she gave him more than new trousers. She knew that she wasn't allowed to have sex with an unvasectomised male so now her backside has to pay.'

  Was her own backside in danger if she refused to help him?

  'Ready when you are, sir,' Charlotte said meekly, lining up the bat.

  'One, two, three, strike,' the man said. At the fourth beat, both bats lashed into the woman's disarmed flesh. For a second they seemed to disappear into the centre of her fleshy hemispheres and she groaned loudly and flinched. Bat-shaped red marks appeared.

  'One, two, three,
strike,' Mr Pickering repeated. Again both paddles hit home and Christine wailed and her buttocks shuddered. Charlotte concentrated on warming every centimetre of the cheek before her in accordance to Mr Pickering's rhythm.

  At first she kept count of the number of strokes that the hapless arse had received but eventually she gave up and just struck on the fourth beat when told to. She could see that Christine's bottom was now an anguished scarlet and could hear the groans and pleas for clemency that she increasingly made. Unfortunately she was sobbing so much and juddering so hard that most of her message was disembodied and they could just hear 'Please... didn't mean... no more.'

  'I don't know who complains more when they're being whipped, girls with small bottoms or girls with large bottoms,' the man said matter of factly and Charlotte pulled her red coat more firmly over her own haunches in case he decided to check them out. He looked at the reddened flesh before him. 'Another four I think then we'll have broken her. She won't interfere with a miscreant again.'

  To her surprise, Charlotte felt a low pull of disappointment in her belly. Though she'd initially balked at punishing Christine, she now found herself enjoying the older woman's helplessness. Hell, the woman had beaten her with a ruler so this was simply quid pro quo.

  Remembering what the headmaster or headmistress had said to her, she walked up to Christine's tearstained face.

  'Kiss the bat and ask nicely for the last four, dear.'

  The fat seamstress pressed her lips against the ungiving wood. 'Please... please give me the last four,' she said piteously, her glassy eyes meeting Charlotte's curious gaze.

  'Oh well, if you're sure,' Charlotte said with a low chuckle and stepped quickly back behind the older woman. She - and Mr Pickering - laid on the final quartet extra hard.

  Afterwards, as Christine lay there sobbing over the exercise horse, Charlotte asked the man if she could have her uniform back.

  'Of course. I saw it when I came in the back door and got this lazy bitch from her bed. It's laid out on the sofa in her bedroom,' the man said.

  Gratefully Charlotte found her way to the bedroom and put her uniform on. It was newly laundered and scented with fabric conditioner. There was a little satchel beside it with Charlotte embroidered on the flap. The satchel contained a handkerchief, a philosophy book and a fruit-based packed lunch and for the first time she felt guilty at having beaten the seamstress. The older woman clearly wanted to make amends.

  Carrying her satchel, she walked back into the lounge and was surprised to see that Christine and the exercise horse had disappeared. Then she noticed that the cottage door was open. Hurrying outside she found that Mr Pickering had wheeled the horse outside with its naked rider still strapped on top.

  'It's portable, see?' he said with obvious pride, snapping the wheels back inside the feet of the exercise horse. On top, Christine cried and cried. 'I thought that a public shaming was appropriate,' Mr Pickering continued gleefully.

  'Just for having sex with someone that hasn't been vasectomised?' Charlotte said confusedly.

  'It's much more complex than that. She knows that she's betrayed the island's philosophy,' the man said. He looked at her more keenly. 'You're a miscreant yourself, aren't you?'

  Charlotte bristled at the word. 'I was moved from isle one to isle two recently if that's what you mean.'

  'And put into school uniform. They only do that with the difficult boys and petulant brats,' Mr Pickering concluded. He nodded, more to himself than to Charlotte. 'Right, you'll do to put Christine through a little test, prove that she's no longer excited by the miscreants.'

  'I, er, have to get back to school,' Charlotte said nervously beginning to back away.

  'You'll do this first or I'll take your uniform away from you,' the overseer warned.

  'Yes, sir,' Charlotte muttered reluctantly. Determined to avoid further shaming, she stayed in place.

  'Start fingering her pussy,' the man said. 'If she's really a reformed character she won't get excited.'

  'Do I have to?' Charlotte muttered looking with distaste at the woman's long pinkish grey folds.

  'Either that or you take her place on the punishment horse,' the man replied, 'and we both paddle you.'

  Quickly Charlotte stepped forward and lined up her small hand with the helpless labial lips. She reached out and began to stroke them in a downwards movement, keeping her touch light but repeating it again and again.

  Soon the woman began to tense and untense her glowing cheeks. Charlotte could also see the gargantuan thighs start to tremble.

  'Oh please, no more. Oh please, I can't bear it,' the woman gasped.

  'You have to bear it for as long as I want you to. That's the nature of a test,' the overseer said.

  Determined not to annoy this man, Charlotte stroked on and on and on. Christine wailed and shuddered and promised all sorts of rewards if Charlotte would stop touching her. Enjoying her new sense of power, the younger girl made her caresses especially sweet. Soon the large woman stiffened, moaned low in her throat then went up the crescendo level with an increasingly high pitched wail. Her orgasm was so loud and so prolonged that by the time she'd descended into the 'oh, oh, oh' stage which signalled the contractions, she'd drawn a small but enthusiastic crowd.

  'You can stop playing with her now,' Mr Pickering said and Charlotte realised that she'd become so fixated on caressing the woman's tender parts that she'd forgotten the purpose of the caresses.

  She stepped back, longing to wash her fingers. The four men and two women who had assembled now watched her keenly. 'Sir, can I go?'

  The man nodded. Charlotte picked up her satchel and it reminded her of Christine. She stared at the woman's flushed face and at her even more sanguine arse. Surely they wouldn't punish it further? It must already be the hottest backside on isle two, if not the world.

  'Sir, what will happen to Christine now?'

  The man stared at the adult schoolgirl then at the seamstress. 'Oh, we'll just leave her for ten minutes in the lunchtime sun.' He strode towards the nearest cottage and brought out its occupants, calling back 'And I'll make sure she has the largest possible audience as she's so ridiculously coy about such things.'

  Walking back to school, Charlotte imagined that she could still hear the woman's pleas for mercy and feel her desperate writhings as she was pleasured by Charlotte's hand.

  Chapter Five

  Christine's aroused juices still scenting her fingers, Charlotte returned to school. She'd hoped to sneak to the canteen for a late lunch but was immediately intercepted by Amanda who looked concerned.

  'You were supposed to report to Miss Barr after breakfast, Charlotte. She's livid. She told me to find you and send you to her study immediately.'

  'What does she want?' Suddenly Charlotte remembered how she'd pushed Amanda into the piranha-infested water, after which Miss Barr had said she'd deal with her the next morning. It was now the next afternoon. 'I know I'm late,' she added slowly, 'but it's not my fault.'

  Determined not to be the fall guy, she dragged Amanda to the headmaster's office and asked for his support.

  'I'll explain to Miss Barr that you're late because we took you out of school this morning,' Mr Steen agreed smoothly. 'But you'll still be due your original punishment for pushing Amanda into the water, you silly girl.'

  'Thank you, sir,' Charlotte said, feeling relieved.

  Ten minutes later Mr Steen finished explaining everything to the gym teacher and hurried away. Charlotte faced the unsmiling muscular woman.

  'Raise your skirt and pull down your pants, girl,' she said.

  Reluctantly Charlotte did as she was told. Miss Barr took a safety pin from the pocket of her polo shirt and pinned Charlotte's skirt up around her waist.

  'Now bend over.'

  The English girl did so and heard the gym teacher's exhalation of dismay.

  'Damn, you're already striped. Why didn't you say?'

  'I thought the headmaster mentioned it when he explained my lat
eness.'

  'Did he? I've a lot on my mind just now, what with training my best athletes for the Annual Race,' Miss Barr said.

  Charlotte cheered up at this mention of the Annual Race. She'd heard enough to know that her Master on the first island of the Training Grounds would be there - and she hoped to be so impressively athletic that he'd want her back.

  'Could you train me to become one of your best athletes, Miss Barr?' she asked softly.

  'You?' Miss Barr looked nonplussed. 'No, you don't have the right build for it - or the right attitude,' she said.

  Was she too slender to be taken seriously? Surely her light weight would be an advantage in a race against heavier competitors?

  'I can run like the wind when I put my mind to it...' Charlotte began.

  But Miss Barr was shaking her head. 'Enough small talk. I already have more than enough volunteers who want to enter the race.'

  Charlotte bridled at the more masculine woman's words. 'I thought the island philosophy was about realising our true potential, Miss.'

  'Yes, and your philosophy is about getting one over on everyone else,' the sports teacher said.

  That was definitely true. Charlotte widened her eyes so that she resembled a trusting doe. Then she lied. 'No, Miss, I want to do my best for the island. I want to win.'

  Miss Barr stared at her sceptically. At last she said 'There's a freestyle section at the end which anyone can enter. You can try your hand at that.' She slapped insinuatingly at her own hard thighs. 'But for now you've endangered another pupil. You must be punished. I'll think up a prolonged torment that doesn't involve your arse.'

  She mused quietly at her desk for a moment then picked up her walkie talkie and spoke into it. When she'd finished the brief conversation she smiled smugly at Charlotte.

  'The doctor will see you now.'

  Apprehension fluttering through her belly, Charlotte followed the gym mistress along the corridor, out of the school and through the back door of the schoolyard until they came to a small white building. She kept her hands on her buttocks to shield them from the gaze of anyone who might walk past. As it was, they didn't encounter anyone - but that didn't mean there weren't pupils staring out of the windows and ogling her exposed fleshy parts.