Sunday, April 28, 2024

The Magic Mirror part 3

I eventually slept and woke up after having dreamed of my old boyfriend kissing Pop's crimson belt marks decorating my thighs. I had a look at my alarm clock. I had an hour to go, my hand wandered. I knew that it was only a dream, because I had been far too embarrassed by that punishment, and had kept tugging down my skirt. He had never kissed my thighs. Sighhhhh...
I even avoided him, and he soon dropped me. I had a great trimester with three A. Pop was so pleased! He had sent me for a week in France, and Fernand popped my cherry!
The alarm clock pulled me out of my reverie. I needed a shower. A mean little brain cell added. "You also deserve to be caned for that F!"
On the tramway to Med School, there was an older schoolgirl tugging down her uniform skirt. When she had to ring to request the next stop, she couldn't help having her miniskirt riding up while reaching for the bell's cord. That mean little brain cell again nagged. "Look! That's a cane stroke across her thighs. That's exactly what you deserve!"
At the Med School cafeteria, Lulu teased. "Better not let Pappy see that F!"
I did blush, but I gave her the same. "When was the last time that you got a good belting? You sure deserve one for having so brazenly invited those two boys to your apartment!"
She blushed and laughed, but I lost the blushing competition as she made me agree that I had enjoyed the night.
Later back home, I couldn't focus on my homework. That pesky little brain cell kept pestering. "You feel guilty, and you know that you deserve to be punished. Will you have the courage to again face the magic mirror?"
I had another poor night, till my hand wandered while I imagined myself raising my school skirt, and lowering my knickers for the cane.
Then it was Saturday, and I decided that I wouldn't chicken out. I was going to confess, and take the punishment I deserve.
I had a shower, removed all make up and braided my hair. I sure didn't want to be confused with a Med School student of twenty something dressed as a schoolgirl. That would be too embarrassing. I even cleaned the colored varnish on my nails. I was going to look like an actual schoolgirl.
On the tramway, I was soon reassured. I only drew the eyes of schoolboys.
At the costume shop, I fed £20 to the automate and confessed. "My name is Belinda, and I was a naughty girl, I had a rowdy night with a boy, and next day I got an F for a surprise quiz..." I stopped short, and my mean brain cell coaxed me. "Tell it how you were taught to keep your skirt down when with boys!" I stammered. "P... Pop...used to b... belt my thighs when..." I couldn't say more.
The automate responded. "It is your second confession Belinda. You are going to be severely punished."
I went to the assigned booth, stood in front of the tall mirror, took a deep breath, and touched it. As the mirror disappeared, the lady I knew was again standing in front of me with her cane
"I have been told that you have been a very naughty girl, Belinda. For an F, it's usually six of the best. I will again be lenient and give you only four, plus one across your thighs to teach you that a proper young lady keeps her skirt down."
I blushed, gulped, and mumbled. "I am very sorry Miss."
"You will be! Take your knickers off, open your legs and raise your skirt as you bend to grab your ankles."
I knew the drill, but I nonetheless felt my upper cheeks glowing for the shameful exhibition.
There was that hissing sound I remembered. It was immediately followed by a thwack and a fierce stripe of fire burned across my bum.
  A second later, another hissing sound followed by the same thwack, and one more blazing stripe bolted across my butt.
Two more followed, and my bottom was fiercely burning.
"Stand up, pull up your knickers, and let your skirt drop so that I know where to aim."
I stood, and very carefully pulled up my knickers over my scorched derriere before adjusting my skirt.
"I will aim exactly under your helm line so that on your way home everyone will see that you were caned like a naughty schoolgirl."
"Hands on your head!"
It sure was more severe than Pop's belt. I danced on the spot, rubbing my thighs!
"Out you go!"
I hadn't had time to recover. I was already out in the busy shopping center. I ran while rubbing my thighs and butt. I stopped running at the tramway station...
To be continued...
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