Taking her hands off her head, Alice moved into position, her nudity now forgotten in the face of the further humiliation that was to be inflicted on her. She leant forward, her hips touching the top of the wooden back of the chair, and waited.
Again, the dreaded stick tapped her behind, as her tormentor took careful aim. CRACK! The blow landed, straight across the centre of her buttocks, re-igniting the early fires. She bit her lip: “One, Sir, thank you sir.”
He paused, waiting, as she stared ahead. A long pause – almost as if he was going to take his time, to enjoy her discomfort. And then he whipped her again. “Aah! No… Two, sir, thank you, Sir.”
Again the pause. The rod lined up. Four gentle taps. And then back, and then down, and then the by-now-familiar anguish. Through clenched teeth: “Three, Sir, thank you, Sir.”
If anything, the next was the hardest stroke of any to date, and she cried aloud in agony, before subsiding into sobs. “Four, please, sir, no more, thank you, sir, please…”
WHACK! (Don’t flinch, don’t flinch, stay in position). “Oh God, oh no, please… six, sir thank you sir.”... CONTINUE

Not playing, this time. For real.
I ordered you over my lap. You stood still frozen to the spot, tears falling to the carpet. So I reached up - my hands around your small, pale wrists, pulling you towards me, manoeuvring you expertly over my lap.
None of the usual brattish squirming and wriggling from you last night. A very meek young lady indeed.
A few gentle spanks to start with. Warming up my hand. So that once I had slid down your pyjama bottoms, I was ready to start punishing your bare behind with all of my strength. You usually complain vehemently at those few harder smacks at the end of your usual spankings: that’s where this spanking started, and from which it become yet more intense.

I paused, allowing your sobs to subside a little, before pushing you to your feet and instructing you to remove your pyjama trousers altogether... CONTINUE

Once she was over Ellen's lap Jane assisted her mother in adjusting herself so her bottom was in the perfect position for what was to come. And it was not a long wait. The strap was raised high and came down hard. She sound of leather striking flesh echoed off the walls but Jane's response was nothing more than a quiet grunt. She stoically received a few more swats. I had the feeling she was going to try to maintain her silence as long as she could to show me how tough she was. It was a losing battle. By about the seventh or eighth swat her face was grimacing. I thought I detected a tear forming by number eleven and she gave us her first "Ouch". A few more and there was no question about the tears running down her face. This was hurting and there was no way she could deny it. She continued with that "Ouch" thing and it got louder with each impact until it changed to outright screeching. The spanking was undoubtedly getting to her now. The strap was rising and falling relentlessly in a steady rhythm. I lost count of the strokes but when Ellen finally stopped there wasn't much of the young bottom that didn't show vivid signs of the strap's effectiveness.

Poor Jane just lay there sobbing for quite a while. When she stood up I could see her fighting the temptation to rub her bottom but I assumed this was not allowed as she tightly wrung her hands in front of her and held them together to keep them away from where they most assuredly wanted to go. Apparently, time spent in the corner after a spanking was also part of their normal punishment routine as she headed there without instruction... CONTINUE