The Correction of Debbie Donovan Ch. 06-07

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Debbie watches as Miss Steeple is chastised.
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Part 3 of the 7 part series

Updated 06/08/2023
Created 02/19/2017
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RoryOmore
RoryOmore
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Chapter Six - Dorothy

I was like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz. I had been picked up by a whirlwind and dropped into a whole new land where everything was exploding with color where only hours before it had all been so drab black and white. The shower had been like a dream, misty and warm, strange and new, and... soooo... totally unexpected.

I was eager to do everything I was told, and didn't even think about objecting or feeling disgusted. I was scared and nervous, and thrown off balance by how the pleasures piled up one on another, giving me the kind of orgasms I didn't even know existed. So much happened to me on that first night, so many new and strange things, so many feeling of pleasure and pain, surprise, wonder, and fear, that afterwards I could hardly keep it all straight in my mind.

Before I knew it we were back in... my... bedroom, Miss Steeple had put on a thin negligee, while I was left naked. Then in walked another woman, and I almost died with embarrassment. I would have covered myself, but I could see Mrs Steeple looking at me over the top of her glasses, so I just stood there with my arms at my sides, blushing all over.

The woman was Mitzy, the Hammersmith's seamstress, another beautiful older woman with flawless skin and perfectly coiffed blonde air. She too had a dynamite body, more lean than Miss Steeple's, almost like a dancer's, but with large breasts swaying in the loose nightgown she was wearing. I was made to stand up on the bench thing while she went at me with a measuring tape, calling out numbers to Miss Steeple who was writing them down on a clipboard. She was very friendly, not at all stern like Miss Steeple, and she did her best to make me feel at ease. She was dressed, but since Miss Steeple was practically naked too, I started to feel a little more at ease.

She was gone in no time, and then I was told to bend over again and assume the position, and I did it, figuring that I was going to get another spanking. It seemed a little unfair to go at me again so soon, but I accepted that I had to take what I had coming to me without complaint. While I was waiting in that humiliating position, another woman came in, I didn't get a good look at her, but I could tell she was a maid by the way she talked to Miss Steeple. She placed my clothes, which must have been picked up while we were in the shower, and laid them on the bed all clean and pressed along with a package of panties.

"Well, you look no worse for the wear," Miss Steeple said. "This will be very good for you anyway."

I tried not to tense up too much, waiting for the blow, but instead of a hard hot crop across my butt, I felt Miss Steeple's fingers caressing me, applying a cool soothing lotion to the parts of my bum and upper thighs that had taken the most of the beating. I let out a grateful little sigh.

"There will be no marks, of course, and this will help to tone and soften your skin as well," she went on, firmly, almost lovingly I thought, rubbing my bum.

When she was done she took a fine lace pink baby doll from the closet and put it on me. It was very short, not even coming to the bottom of my bum, completely see-through, and like hers only had a single ribbon holding it together near the neck. She directed me to the desk and sat down on the far side; I didn't know what to do; "but my bum is bare, Ma'am, won't it get the chair dirty?" I asked shyly.

"This is your desk; sit down silly girl, we have a full staff of maids to clean up after us."

I don't remember much more, she talked about school, and stuff I would be learning, but I was pretty exhausted from my incredible evening, and soon she got me to put on my clothes and she rode with me in one of the Limo's back home.

I slept like a log that night, but all the next day at school I was nervous and fidgety, wondering almost if I had dreamed it all. After school I ran all the way to Silvermill almost expecting to be turned away at the gate, but they did let me in, and I was so happy and excited wondering if I was in for another night like the last one. Boy was I ever.

Chapter Seven - Miss Steeple

It was about seven o'clock on Tuesday evening when I stopped outside the open door of Debbie's bedroom and paused to eavesdrop. I had just returned from a very successful little raid with some of my Wardonians, and I was pretty charged up. I had dumped off my gear and jacket in the garage, but I still wore my combat boots with the tight black pants tucked into the tops. My dark grey shirt was open at the neck and a little limp with sweat.

"What was the date of D-Day?" I heard Miss Steeple say.

"Ah...I don't know ma'am," Debbie replied.

"We discussed it not more than ten minutes ago."

"But we haven't taken it at school yet," Debbie protested, sounding a bit confused.

"You will; I told you, I know all of the questions that will appear on your tests, your job is to memorize what I tell you." There was a sharp slap that sounded like a ruler hitting a desk before she continued; "You have been doing well so far, and I haven't had to chastise you, but I fear you are starting to get lazy, and I cannot have that. Now what was the date of D-Day?"

"June sixth, Nineteen-forty-four," I replied striding into the room. I wasn't likely to forget that one, it was only thirteen years ago, and I had been there.

"Mr Hammersmith, I didn't hear you; good evening Sir," Nancy said as she stood up. Debbie stood up at once as well, and had the presence of mind to stand up straight with her head lowered and her arms at her sides, as she had been taught.

Nancy prodded her with the ruler, and she looked up startled and a little fearfully; "Oh...uh...uh...Good evening master," she stammered.

She wanted to lower her eyes, but I held them with mine; "How are you tonight, Debbie?" I asked standing very close to her.

She obviously was going to need a lot of training, in fact she seemed worse off than she was last night, and I suspected that it was because last night she had nothing to lose, whereas tonight she had much to gain. She didn't know where to look now that I was so close; she tried staring straight ahead, looking right into my chest.

"Look at me, Debbie," I said firmly. "When someone is talking to you, keep looking at them until they dismiss you, or it is obvious that the conversation is over."

"Ah... uh... Yes master," he replied and looked up at me, her lower lip trembling a little in a darling manner.

I could have told her that it was all going to get easier with practice, but I didn't want to lessen her discomfort at this moment. I looked her over; she wore a cheap, badly conceived and fashioned dress of mauve checks, its color probably improved by the fact that it was very dull and faded. It had a tight, fussy round collar that had stupid little ribbons drooping down from a single decorative button at the middle of her throat. The sleeves came down to her elbows, and the skirt came almost to the floor. A very thin belt pulled in her waist in a totally artless manner. The only thing that kept it from being truly hideous was that it was too tight for her, and couldn't contain her ripe curves, especially her breasts that proclaimed her superior sexuality despite its cheap packaging. I supposed she also had ugly shoes somewhere too, but Nancy had the good sense, at least, to have her in her stocking feet.

"Her clothes have not yet arrived from the seamstress, I see," I said, stating the obvious which I knew would throw Nancy off.

"No sir," Miss Steeple replied; "some of them should arrive tomorrow." She was impeccably dressed as always. She wore an elegant brown dress the upper part of which was sheer lace that partly revealed her shoulders and bust, set off by the dark outline of her bra straps and upper portion of the cups pushing out her impressive boobs. Below that, the material became solid, was gathered artfully at her waist, above her inviting hips, and fell, full, but straight almost to the floor. She filled the garment well, but by design, not by age and outgrowth like poor Debbie. On her feet were four inch black heels.

"Well see to it, this just won't do," I replied fingering the silly little collar. "So, how are you tonight, Debbie?" I repeated.

"Uh... good master...fine...thank you."

"Learning a lot?" I stroked her flushed cheek with my fingers and then ran them down and around to the back of her neck; her trembling increased.

"Uh...yes master."

"When was VE day?"

"Uh...oh...I think..."

"We covered this," Miss Steeple hissed glaring at her.

I looked at Miss Steeple and raised a disapproving eyebrow; "Come and unzip this silly dress, Nancy," I commanded.

She quickly ran the zipper down Debbie's back to just above her butt, and I stood almost against her as I pushed it off of her shoulders and let my fingers run down to the strap of her bra. It didn't help the poor girl's concentration at all.

She made a sharp gasp, shook her head a little; "That was... Europe right...ahh...after...uh."

Nancy gave her a whack on the butt with her ruler, it startled her, but she couldn't have felt much through the thick material of her dress.

"If you don't know the answer, say so outright, don't beat around the bush and stammer like a fool. You're wasting Mr Hammersmith's time," she growled in her ear, staring at the side of her face, avoiding my eyes.

I reached down and gave Debbie's back strap a hard snap making her gasp again; a line of sweat had appeared at her hairline, she looked frightened and confused. "I suppose the lingerie hasn't arrived either," I said.

Nancy looked up at me, doing a good job of keeping her face steady, being careful, not venturing to point out that Debbie had only been measured yesterday. "No sir," she replied.

"Then you should have had her naked," I replied curtly.

"Yes Sir, my apologies," Nancy replied with a dip of her head and a lowering of her eyes that were now becoming sleepy with anticipation.

I took a step back, Debbie's head was on a swivel, trying to decide who to look at. Nancy reached out and grabbed the back of her head and held it firmly facing me, "Look at your master, you little slut, not me."

"Ah...yes..." she started to reply, but I cut her off.

"When was D-day?" I asked.

She groaned, her eyes wavered, and I think that if Miss Steeple hadn't been holding her head she might have sagged right down onto the floor; "I don't know, master," she wailed.

"I... just... told you," I said with some exasperation.

"Uhh..."

"Aren't you listening to me Debbie, don't you pay attention to what I say?" I snapped.

"Ahh...yes...no...oh master, please..."

"Lift up your dress," I ordered.

At least that was a request she could understand. She immediately took a couple of handfuls of the skirt portion at about the knees, and lifted it up until her arms were at shoulder height, exposing her legs just past her stocking tops, but not as far as her panties.

"Higher Debbie, I commanded, "raise your hands as high up as they will go, and then hold them there until tell you otherwise."

She had to wiggle a bit, but she pulled up her dress as far as she could, completely covering her face and exposing her panties, garter belt and bra. I don't think that it was the same ensemble that she was wearing the night before, but it was very similar. Her bra was white, bullet type, with the crosshair seams, but although it still had considerable padding, it had lost much of its stiffness, and actually had subsided into a more natural form, the cups were large and high causing much of her big tits to bulge out of the top with a very nice curve, and considerable cleavage which the design never intended. Her panties, of a battered white cotton were very large, completely covering all of her belly, crotch and bum, yet she had them pulled up so high that she got quite a nice framing of her pud, almost like a much more fashionable, high hip-cut pair. I don't know if this was intentional. At any rate, they were stretched tightly over her dark, unruly bush that they barely concealed. Her garter belt, also white, was very broad and worn very high on the belly, along with the panties, covering her belly button, however the curve of the straps came down to very symmetrically frame her bush in a suggestive archway. The broad straps ran down the middle of each thigh to gather up very limp, nude stockings.

I stepped close to her again and ran my fingers lightly across her belly toying with the thin waistband of her panties, and then running my palm down across the front feeling the outline of the garter belt... above... them. I slipped a couple of fingers in at the leg, brushing her bush with the back of my hand.

"What is this?" I asked.

"My panties master," came the immediately, slightly muffled reply.

"And... what... is... this?" I asked, slowly, my volume growing with each word. I withdrew my hand and tugged hard on one of the garter belt's straps.

"My garter..." she started to reply and then stopped for a couple of seconds and I heard a faint; "Oh shit."

"Language, you whore!" Nancy snapped, and I could hear the sound of the ruler striking the backs of Debbie's thighs before she stepped around in front to take a look for herself. "Oh you foolish girl, you foolish, disobedient girl," she hissed.

Debbie's dress rippled with her trembling, and I thought her knees were actually going to knock together. "Didn't Mr Hammersmith, your master... specifically... tell you to always put your panties... over top of... your garter belt?" she demanded.

"Yes mistress," she replied meekly.

I dropped a hand heavily on Miss Steeple's shoulder and squeezed; "Didn't you check her when she arrived Nancy?" I demanded in a low voice of seemly barely repressed anger.

"No sir," she replied evenly. She made no attempt to excuse or explain herself.

I grabbed the tight round collar of Miss Steeple's dress and tore it downwards popping the few small buttons, ripping the thin material down to her waist. "Get it off," I growled, "and assume the position at the desk."

"Yes Sir," she replied and stepped aside as she began unzipping the bottom portion of her dress.

"I guess no one gives a damn about how things are done around here," I snarled. "I guess no one can be bothered to obey my specific instructions." I pull my switchblade from my pocket, snapped it open and grabbed the waistband of Debbie's large panties. "Hold very still," I warned.

I cut open a slit in her cheap cotton panties, returned my knife to my pocket, and then shredded the garment with a couple of hard two handed actions. Debbie gasped and swayed, but never gave up her position, with her dress up over her face, although her arms had begun to sway a little. I slapped her inner thigh and she opened her legs so that I could pull the torn pieces from her crotch, revealing her luxuriant and very black bush.

"Now get out of that dress, and put it on the bed," I commanded.

I watched as she did what she was told, and then took her by the shoulder and moved her into position a little to the side of the desk so that she was standing about where Nancy's head lay, and then straightened her out so that I could look at her while spanking the older woman. "Arms behind your back, legs apart, a bit further, there. Head up, watch what happens to anyone whose efforts fall short in this household," I said.

I prefer to use my hands when chastising someone; I don't really want to hurt them, and feeling up their bum is the main point anyway, but in this instance I wanted to add a little drama and emphasis, so I picked up Nancy's twenty-four inch, antique ruler, and let it rest against one of her ample butt cheeks.

After a moment's pleasant anticipation I delivered a very swift blow that filled the room with a loud and satisfying "Crack!" Miss Steeple, one of corporal punishment's great practitioners and apologists, took it without flinching or making any sound at all, but young Debbie's eyes widened a little in fright. After another silent pause I laid on four more, loud, swift and sharp, alternating between her wonderful, ever so slightly, brown skinned cheeks.

In contrast to Debbie's ratty appearance, Miss Steeple wore elegant black lingerie of the finest quality. A tight, sheer half girdle, with no panties, and black seamed stockings held tautly in place by precise straps. Above that she wore a stiff bra of sheer black over a cream lacy pattern that shoved her impressive tits high and proud.

Putting the ruler back on the desk I began to stroke Miss Steeple's naughty bum, lightly tracing the curve of her outer cheek down to her inner thigh. I allowed my fingertips to brush gently against her pussy lips, running up her slit and then back up onto the mound of her cheek. She remained rock still and silent, but her pussy was wet. I left her in that humiliating position without comment, and turned my attention towards Debbie.

As she stood there, arms at her sides, legs slightly apart, head lowered, I took her roughly by the shoulders and turned her so that she faced the desk with her belly button about even, and almost touching Nancy's face as it rested on the desk. I snapped her bra strap, "Take off your brassiere and toss it," I said.

"Yes, master," she replied. There was definite fear and uncertainty in her tiny voice, but she responded immediately shrugging out of the shoulder straps, reaching behind to swiftly unclasp, and then whipped the tired garment off, and after a moment's hesitation, threw it blindly in the general direction of bed.

"Arms up behind the back of your head, like this," I pulled her arms up and placed her in a classic prisoner pose with her hands clasped behind her head. "Head up, look straight ahead, and don't move," I said.

"Yes, master."

Standing behind her I reached around and filled both of my hands with her big tits and squeezed them roughly; they were of excellent heft and pliability; just a tad smaller than I like, but with the right diet and exercise we would rectify that. She had a bumpy, excited areola and good sized, very taunt nipples which I took between my thumbs and forefingers and started to pinch; "Who am I, Debbie," I asked calmly.

"Ahhh...Mr Hammersmith..."

I increased the pressure.'

"Ohhh...ahh...my master, you are my master...Mr Hammersmith, master."

I shifted my grip a little, taking them more by the tip and pinching harder, making her gasp and start to squirm a little and breathe heavily. "And who are you?"

"I am your...slave. Your whore worthless little slut," she stammered.

I released her nipples and let my hands drop to gently stroke her belly; "all of the above, Debbie, but in the future the answer to that question will be "your little slut," I said.

"Yes master, your little slut, yes master," she replied nodding her head a little.

I pulled her a step back and moved a little to her side; placing my left hand on her hip I sent the other one deep into her vigorous, tangled, young bush. "Why are you my little slut, Debbie?" I asked in the same quiet, somewhat ominous tone.

"Uh...because I love you, master," she replied quickly.

I had been intending to grab a handful of her pubes and give them a bit of a yank, but now I simply let my strong fingers slip down through her bush to her clit. I smiled broadly, and over Debbie's shoulder I could see that even Miss Steeple registered surprise, and maybe a little relief; this was unexpectedly swift progress.

"Ahhh...very good, Debbie," I brought my left hand up to gently cup her breast while my right ground past her clit and probed the outside of her wet slit. Her belly was working involuntarily, contracting in and out and her breasts were heaving. I licked a bit of sweat from her neck, "Why do you love me, Debbie?" I asked.

Her answer came quickly and had an endearing ring of sincerity, which is always nice to hear when you have you fingers in a girl's bush.

RoryOmore
RoryOmore
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