Whippingham Fitness Camp part 6

I had done well with my weight loss program. I only had two more pounds to shed. There was salmon with sliced potatoes in a creamy Parmesan sauce, I felt I deserved a break. I reasoned, its Saturday, and we weren't weighted on Sunday. I didn't resist a second helping.

I could have more or less remained on track, maybe earn no more than an embarrassing bare bottom spanking, but in for a penny in for a pound. The dark chocolate mousse was devilishly tempting, and I surrendered. June watched me spooning it with saucer like eyes. On Sunday I was kinda worried about my indulgence, and ran a few extra miles on the treadmill.

Monday morning for the weighing ceremony the verdict was terrible. "April, you have regained two pounds. You are taking off your buruma, and going to cut a couple of switches."

A few girls, who had seen me with envy spooning that rich, dark, scrumptious chocolate mousse, giggled as I was taking off my buruma.

A switching was the ultimate deterrent.

With a blush, I exchanged my gym knickers for a pair of shears. With nothing more than my curls, I stepped out of the mansion to cut a couple of switches, from the well known shrub. I couldn't help feeling my cheeks burning with embarrassment when more girls teased me.

I selected my two switches, and sat on cold paving stones to clean the leaves off. With butterflies fluttering in my tummy, I reflected on the price, I was going to pay for my silly indulgence. I already felt sorry for myself.

In front of the mansion with everyone watching our coach ordered me to grab my knees, and she switched my bum and upper thighs. It was sizzling streaks of fire. "OH! AH! AIE! OUCH!"

It was even more severe than the welcome strapping I got from Miss Principal. It was searing, scorching, incandescent, with zippy sounds instead of resounding whacks. I stammered as I promised. "OH! AH! OUCH! OUCH! I am very sorry Miss. Sniff! I will be back on my diet. Sniff! I promise. Sniff!"

She gave me back my buruma, and there was no time for after spanking treatment from my friends. Next was the morning run on the beach. I ran with my streaked buns and thighs. The usual joggers were there, and they cheered.

I would never again forget my diet, even after having left Whippingham! A few days later, I had lost all of my extra weight, and I was as fit as a marathoner.

 

Epilogue

With June we retook our dance exams. The Academy's leotard couldn't hide the fading pattern of my switching. June teased. "The jury will never imagine that you were given a switching, for having stuffed your face with chocolate mousse!"

My answer to her teasing was non verbal. "Grgrgrgrgr!"

Modern dancing allows more freedom than ballet, and I had fun with the wheels and steps learned at Whippingham. I flew!

I got a 9.1 average from the judges. June got 9.2. We were congratulated by the jury for the best scores for a second chance, and offered a tall glass of champagne. We didn't have a second one!

The lady co-president the jury cheekily teased. "I have a feeling that you have been at Whippy." We both blushed crimson, but we proudly answered. "Yes Ma'am!" She smiled, and whispered. "It will be our secret!"

Later we emailed our Whippingham coaches and Miss Principal. "9.2 and 9.1, we are back on track! Thank you!"

April and June

 PS: There is for sure one Whippingham village, somewhere...

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Classroom capers

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Rubbing doesnt help much

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Whippingham Fitness Camp part 5

I had to admit that I did deserve that spanking at the hand of our nutritionist, but I wouldn't be called a chicken. I was, of course, mortified to have been punished, on the bare in front of the whole class, but it was a matter of honor. I am not a chicken! Later on, I was quite proud to have been given high five by my dorm-mates.

A few days later, we visited the boys of the local soccer team at their nearby training camp. Miss Principal announced. "You will be wearing your classroom uniform while travelling and you are to pack your sports bags."

With boys in the bargain, we didn't mind too much our shortish skirts. Our coaches handed each of us a pair of gym shorts. "We don't want the boys going gaga over your burumas."

The boys offered a warm and teasing welcome. A few girls giggled for pats on the back of their skirts, a few more slapped the enterprising hands. We changed into our sports uniforms with improved shorts. After a warming up drill, we were separated into two teams. I was happy to be in the same team as my friend June, and our dorm mates. Each team was organized by one of our coaches. A selection of boys was appointed as referees, others sat on the sidelines to enjoy the match.

Our captain was lucky to draw the first engagement, and we charged. As a forward outfielder, I had run ahead, hoping for a pass. When I got the ball, I successfully dribbled it by an opposing midfielder. The boys cheered. "Come on red head!" Next, I escaped a defender. The boys went wild. "Go for it red thighs!"

I didn't have time to blush for that comment, which was referring to Mr. Muesli having decorated my thighs for my impertinence. "Shoot it carrot head! Shoot!"

I shot, and the ball missed the goals by a mile! The boys jeered. "Spank her! On the bare! We want to see if her tuft matches her hairs!" I blushed at those comments, but I was more upset to have wasted a great opportunity.

As we were all quite fit, thanks to Whippingham's special program, it was a hard fought game. We did score one goal, but our opponents equaled that a few minutes later. Both coaches promised the belt for their team, if defeated.

In the last few minutes of the game, we were still tied, and facing an attack. As a front line player, I was in the middle of the field ready for a counter attack. I couldn't see the details, but I heard the boys chanting. "It's a goal!" I wasn't the only one to imagine the impeding sting in our tails. A few were already instinctively rubbing the seat of their shorts.

While the other team and their coach were chanting, "We are the champions!" Our coach bellowed, "You're lucky that I won't be belting your butts in front of the boys!" A number of boys overheard and teasingly protested.

Back to our locker-room our coach pulled some kind of trestle in the middle of the room. "All of you, take off your shorts and knickers and line up!"

While we were taking off our shorts and knickers before lining up, our opponents, who were peering through the opened door, cheered. "Strip your clams!"

Miss Coach added. "Six of the very best with my trusty belt!"

Our captain was first to bend over that trestle. She had to be on tip toes to grab the lower rang. She couldn't help having to part her legs to keep her balance.

"As the captain, you're getting eight!"

She got the last two across the top of her thighs. With our short uniform skirt, she will have to be very careful to hide those vivid belt marks from the boys.

"April, you're next, and you're getting seven because of that sloppy shot!"

I couldn't help offering my girly secrets for the jeering opposing team. "Spread them wide red beaver!"

I was warned, "You will remember that last one, my girl!" Having said that, she vigorously whacked my thighs. "OH! AIE! AIE! AIE!"

Then I joined the already punished line up with both hands rubbing my well toasted buns. I no longer cared to be showing my curls. 

After having changed into my uniform skirt, I tugged it as far down as it would go. As we walked out of the boys' clubhouse, I suddenly felt a cooling draft for my fiery nates. Some imp had raised my skirt, or was it the wind?

I twirled on the spot and slapped the closest boy. He protested, "Hey! Ouch! It wasn't me."

"Sorry!"

I scanned all the smiling boys and couldn't spot the culprit. From their wide grins, I could tell that they had an eyeful. I again blushed as they commented.

"That's a lovely red bum!”

“It’s quite fitting for a red head!"

I shrugged and noticed that I had slapped one of the best looking boys.

April and June

To be continued...

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An afternoon by the sea

A drawing by Mike

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Ballerina post script-um

 When I did my Ballerina story I didn't have that gif, but its never too late to do things right. 

Thanks to our friend Grumpy old fart.

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Whippingham Fitness Camp part 4

We were surprised by the classroom; it was as Victorian as the mansion. There was an old blackboard, the kind used with chalk. The school desks were antique, with inkwells, and attached bench for two. The professor, Mr Muesli, had a small, yet noticeable beer belly which was amusing for a nutritionist. His desk was atop a platform, allowing him to monitor all of us.

He told us to be seated in silence. He insisted on the words, 'in silence'. We discovered that he has a falsetto voice. We giggled the more. He smacked his desk with some short rattan stick, and we calmed down.

We explored the inkwells while he started his class, they seemed empty.

"Adult active young women, as you need an average of 2400 calories which are to be provided by a proper balance of nutrients. He pointed his stick to call Annabelle. "Young lady, please tell us the basic food groups."

She stood to answer. "First one is pizza, the second is cheese for the pizza, the third is sausage for the pizza, and the fourth is more cheese and sausages."

We roared with laughter.

His voice hissed as a rattler about to strike. "Silence! Next impertinence, it’s a bare bottom spanking in front of the whole class!"

We calmed down, and he pointed his stick at Louise, who adeptly answered. "First one is about breads, cereals, rice, pasta. Second is vegetables and fruits. Third is dairy products. Fourth for meat, fish, poultry, eggs, and nuts."

He continued. "Your diet is to be balanced between those food groups, one serving of meat, two for dairy, and three servings of?"

He had pointed is chef like baton for me. A few girls from another dorm teasingly mimicked chickens. "Cot cot cot cot!" They were obviously implying that I must be a chicken. I sprang to my feet and chimed, "Three cans of beer!" They applauded, and I took a bow.

Mr. Muesli became purple and seemed to have smoke coming out of his nose and ears. He charged between our desks, and grabbed one of my ears. "Ouch!" He pulled me by my ear, as if I was a ten-year-old Victorian schoolgirl. I didn't have much of a choice. I followed my ear.

He had me climb on his platform. With his hand not holding my ear, he pulled his chair in front of his desk. Then he sat, and pulled me over his knees. I felt a hot flush as I blushed crimson, when he raised my skirt and lowered my knickers.

Then with his short rattan stick, he spanked my bare bottom in front of the whole class. I heard giggling and was quite mortified. I couldn't blush any redder than a tomato.

My feet stomped the platform as he whacked, striped, streaked and striated my bottom with his mini cane. It was a blazing inferno. I surrendered. "Oh! Ah! Ouch! Sniff, I am sorry Sir! Sniff, very sorry! Sniff."

He helped me stand with my knickers still at half mast. He rolled my skirt above my incandescent moon before ordering. "You will be summing up on the blackboard what I have been teaching."

I started with a pyramid for the number of servings per food groups and rubbed my throbbing derriere. There was more giggling, some whispered, none too discreetly. "She's rubbing her bum!"

He swiftly turned around and twice decorated my thighs with his short rattan stick. I danced and rubbed my legs as a punished schoolgirl.

The lesson was almost over when he allowed me to pull up my knickers and adjust my skirt. Still red face, I turned around to face the classroom. It seemed like I gave the signal for June to fire a splotch of ink onto the face of a giggler.

I had a huge smile and was real proud of my friend. She was also lucky not to have been caught in the act.

April and June

To be continued...

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