1/8/2024 0 Comments Panty glimpsesSalted fat on a strapped schoolgirl bottom, before the sodomy that, from the accounts she’s read, were a regular part of the pedagogical punishments of those long-gone times. Salted fat, to make the bottom burn salted fat, after the strapping, while the girl sobbed over the stool. In traditional English correction, salted fat was applied across the red scorched bottomcheeks of a schoolgirl in the final stages of punishment in the headmaster’s study. Vicks in the seat of her panties, stinging her behind. He had her change into the punishment panties early – earlier than usual – and so it’s a relief to get them down finally, for the thick coating of Vicks he smeared in the seat before having her step into them has stung her strapped behind for several hours. Keeps her eyes fixed forward as she feels him removing the panties, as she feels him spreading her legs further, exposing everything between them to the unseen eyes behind the glass. She keeps her face tilted up to the mirrored wall in front of her, her eyes towards the glass as she’s been taught, trying not to close them as she puts her hands back to her underpants, drawing them down to expose herself to the people behind the mirror at her rear. Or is it a faint cluck of disapproval at the fact that she’s been allowed to wear panties at all. The sound of a throat being cleared? Of a sigh of pleasure as her behind is revealed, the humiliation gown opened, the punishment panties pulled down and off, allowing her to separate her legs wider, spread her cheeks further, present herself with her rectum completely exposed? Her ears prick whenever he stands still for a moment, seeking to hear the hear the telltale sounds of the people behind the two-way mirrors that circle the room. Her mind tells her she’s being watched, and her senses conspire with that conclusion. But it doesn’t matter even if the viewing areas behind the four mirrored walls of punishment room she’s in are empty, her mind tells her that they’re full. She’ll never know who they are, how many have come – if indeed there are any there at all. She bends forward, staring at the glass in front of her, at the watchers she presumes are behind it. Corrective humiliation, he always calls it and its effects on her are so drastic that she shudders even when all he does is say the words. That’s why he’s invited them there, for their enjoyment and her shame. She complies, knowing that the watchers behind the mirrored wall that faces her backside are enjoying the scene, enjoying her humiliation as she bends forward, her gown opened, her behind displayed. And then, after she’s done so, after she’s felt him strip her panties off entirely, to move her hands up to spread her cheeks and reveal everything between them. Then tells her in a loud voice to reach back and pull her panties down below her buttocks. He has the humiliation gown completely opened now, and he pauses to admire the view. Who can see her there in that humiliating posture already disgraced, with the greatest part of the mortification still to come. She looks at the mirror in front of her, wondering who’s behind it, looking out at her. She looks straight ahead as he opens the gown to reveal her behind, her red strapped cheeks clenched tight underneath the sheer white punishment panties he’s exposed. Behind her, methodically opening the flaps of the humiliation gown he’s made her put on, exposing the seat of her pantied bottom to the mirrored walls of the punishment room. She lies forward over the sodomy stool, feeling its hard surface beneath her, listening to him at her rear, preparing her behind for chastisement.
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