2 - One Week in the Hologram (commission for Milford)

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The white glare of tele-screen light reflects off Michelle's reading glasses. Her eyelids flicker as sleep takes gradual hold. As she pulls the fleece throw blanket closer around her petit frame, she shifts from one buttock to the other, biting her lip. She's still sore from earlier. She sighs, takes a long sip of herbal tea and wills herself to stay awake. Her Holodeck program is almost done. --- Michelle Yen is a slight girl with long black hair she wears in standard-issue barrets. Her eyes are emerald green, almond-shaped -- her face is very pleasing to look at, particularly when she's smiling shyly, her nose angled down, cheeks flushed. All the young men of the fleet think so. Each time she's asked for dates, she gives the same look, before politely declining. Some of the bolder crew members have asked on multiple occassions -- perhaps they just want to see that face again. As far as anyone else knows, Michelle is professional without any exception. Stunningly intelligent, innocent, and demure -- around her peers, Michelle is quiet and as deep as the vaccuum of space itself. Outside of quarterly report meetings, hardly anyone on board the //U.S.S. Capital// has heard her say more than a few words at once. If they only knew what happens in those twice weekly trips to the Ship Counsellor's quarters... [[Continue|STORY 2]]

Michelle takes off her glasses and rubs her eyes. She glances at the digital display at the top of the console: 00:45. It's after zero hour, and tomorrow she has to report to the Chief Conn Officer. She lifts her hand to the manual shut-down...but she pauses with her finger above the button. //If I worked for just one more hour...// She takes her hand away. She stretches, lifting herself on her tiptoes. Her regulation outfit has been retired for the night: she's in her off-white sleepwear, the high thread-count fabric cool against her flesh. The room is empty; no one but Michelle //ever// uses the LCAS this late. This room has a blue tile floor, and nearly every available space on the wall is occupied by a monitor of one or another complex operating system, built to communicate with passing ships or plot trajectories over light years of space. [Look at self]<self|(click-replace:?self)[She brushes her hand against the console of the central viewscreen and utters a voice command. "Viewscreen, self display mode." [[Continue|LOOKING AT HERSELF IN VIEWSCREEN]]]

There she was: completely nude and straddling S. C. Deanna Troi’s right knee, her bare torso held beneath the ship Counsellor’s arm, the twin globes of her bottom already pinkening from just a few hard //swats// with her firm hand. She feels Troi’s hand pressing against the small of her back, pinning her in position. She feels how visible everything is between the faintly glowing hemispheres of her derriere, how the conditioned air of the S.C. quarters kisses her most private places: the smooth lips of her sex, the tight asterisk between her clenching buttocks. She can feel her skin prickling when the Counsellor tells her, in a low, fierce voice, that she’s a “bad girl, a //very// bad girl.” She shuts her eyes. She braces. //SLAP!// She gasps as the sting rises in her backside, diffusing through her, making her twitch and squirm. She feels another rosey handprint blooming on her flesh as her face flushes, becoming hot and red enough to match her backside as her humiliation grows. She feels a strange, weightless sensation in her stomach, like when the ship lurches into lightspeed, and a burning at the back of her throat as though she were about to cry. But she wouldn’t be crying from just the embarrassment, or even from the pain. She’d be crying with //relief// -- the relief of finally getting something you’ve wanted for so long – your whole //life//, really – and having it be everything you’d ever hoped it would be. [[Continue|REMEMBERING THE SPANKING 2]] [[Learn more about Michelle|MICHELLE YEN]]

An image of Michelle's face fills the monitor, sleepy and with indentations from her glasses on her nose. Still pretty, though -- strikingly so. She glances up at the door of the tech bay, turns warily around, and raises the back of her sleepwear robe to show her naked bottom beneath. She looks at herself in the viewscreen over her shoulder, like a 21st century woman might find the zipper of her evening gown in a mirror. She traces her fingers along the dark crimson markings seared across her derriere. She winces, because the welts are still tender to the touch. Her backside is crisscrossed with angry scarlet lines, covering her sit-spots and reaching down to her middle thigh. She bites her lip again, as though inspecting this aftermath of a very severe spanking has somehow made her feel the sting of Ship Counsellor Troi's Mason-Pearson hairbrush once again. And then she grins. [[Think back to the spanking|REMEMBERING THE SPANKING]] [[Continue|STORY 3]]

A shiver runs down Michelle's back and down her long legs as she thinks back to her earlier spanking in the counsellor's office. It's both jarring and pleasant, like an ice bath after a long day of training. She lets the sleepwear robe drop and smooths it with a gentle touch. //If I work on this program for just one more hour,// she thinks, crossing the room to gingerly sit again in the central command seat, //I could visit Governess Troi every day...// She sighs contently to herself, pulls herself into a cross-legged position in the broad-seated command chair, and savors the warmth -- both from her freshly made coffee and her freshly-spanked seat. The quiet hum of tele-screens is soothing, and she feels sleep over-taking her. "Cadet Yen." The voice startles her out of sleep. Michelle leaps to her feet and whirls around to see Counsellor Troi at the doorway. Her heart backflips, and a pleasant rush of endorphins warms her face and the nape of her neck -- a trained response. But Troi isn't holding an implement, and as she steps forward, it's as Counsellor, not Governess. She looks at the tele-screen, eyes calm. She smiles, and the lines of her face soften. "You've been working hard." "Yes, m-" Catching herself, Michelle looks down. "Yes, Counsellor Troi." "At ease, cadet," Troi says kindly. "I didn't come to scold you for using the LCAS after hours. But now, you won't have to." Her grin widens, a glint of mischeif entering her eyes. "I had some recreational time today, so I took a look at the encoding you sent to me. I've completed your holodeck program." [[Continue|STORY 4]]

“Alright, naughty girl, enough warm-up,” Ship Counsellor Troi says, reaching over Michelle’s head for something on the nightstand. “Time for you to get your //real// punishment. We’ll start with 20 spanks with the hairbrush, see where we go from there.” Although Michelle can’t see her face from her position, she knows Troi is grinning; there’s an unmistakable smirk in her voice. “I think you //more// than deserve that. What do you think, Michelle? Do you deserve this punishment, naughty girl?” Michelle swallows hard. Her throat is dry from the anticipation – but between her slender thighs, she’s practically //soaked//. “Y-yes, Governess.” “Yes, //and//?” “...T-thank you, Governess. For the punishment I deserve.” ------- For the past 14 standard orbits -- enough stardates to fill a small log-book, which Michelle nearly has just with descriptions -- Ship Counsellor Troi has treated Michelle to one-on-one //disciplining// sessions that they disguise as a bi-weekly inventory briefing. No one on the ship suspects that Counsellor Troi has automated the inventory briefings and is, instead, spanking Cadet Yen's bottom red and raw every day with a combination of her hand, a hairbrush, and a variety of other implements she keeps in a locked cabinet beneath her desk. Each time, Counsellor Troi becomes //Governess// Troi. And she takes naughty Michelle's corrective measures //very// seriously... [[Continue|REMEMBERING THE SPANKING 3]]

For as long as Michelle can remember, she's wanted to be spanked. It goes all the way back to her schooling. Like the majority of young people in the United Federation of Planets, most of her history lessons occured in Holodeck chambers. She was particularly interested in the realistic simulations of life in the 20th and 19th century. She'll never forget the lesson on life in pre-WWII England: she hardly remembers what the purpose of the lesson itself was, though she's pretty sure it had to do with the rise of the Axis Powers. Really, though, all she remembers is when the hologram mother -- a strikingly good-looking brunette woman with a strong jaw -- threatened to give her daughter -- a blue-eyed waif with pouty lips -- a hard "slippering" for finishing the last of their sticky toffee pudding. She didn't even know what a "slippering" was at the time...but from the way the woman waggled the slipper and the way the teenager reflexively grabbed her bottom made her curious. More than curious -- //obsessed//. She //had// to know more. [[Continue|MICHELLE YEN 2]]

In the 23rd Century, corporal punishment is rare. Besides, Michelle had always been so polite and diligent in her studies that, even if she //tried// to act out, her teachers would look the other way, figuring she just needed to blow off steam. It was frustrating to no end. She //had// to know what it would feel like. Late at night, Michelle would pull down her sleepwear bottoms and crouch on the bed with her round behind in the air. She bought a pair of leather-soled plimsoll slippers -- just like in the simulation -- just so she could spank herself with them. But she could never slap //hard// enough without making too much noise and waking the other girls in her dormitory. So she started going to the sound-proofed study lounge after zero hour just to spank her own bottom to a bright and nearly-satisfactory pink. But, of course, that was never enough, either. The //pop// of the slipper against her sore haunches was like the //click// of a lock, opening the flood gates of her mind. She started to go every night. Sometimes, unable to wait for zero hour, she'd bring her studies with her and pretend to be hard at work until all of her peers had left. She became uncautious. Finally, she was caught. The Ship Counsellor of the first vessel Michelle has ever been aboard is named Deanna Troi. Michelle was in the middle of soundly spanking herself, so, //so// near to an orgasm, her bottom glowing bright scarlet beneath the fluorescents, when Deanna cleared her throat. Mortified, Michelle leap to her feet and started scrambling to pull her nightgown back on. Ship Counsellor Troi said nothing, except to order Michelle to come to her quarters the next day at 9 hundred hours. The rest, as the say, is history... [[Back to the spanking|REMEMBERING THE SPANKING 2]]

//FWACK//! Michelle gasps as the hairbrush's hard back claps against her left buttock. //FWACK! THWACK! FWACK!// As the swats continue to fall -- each one more painful than the last -- she drops her head, a sob building in her throat, and an aching building in her loins. She squirms, and Deanna twists her leg, tightening the pin. Truly helpless, Michelle grips the back of the chair until her knuckles whiten. Her backside is a red distress beacon, hot and sore as the tears rising in the back of her throat. //THWACK! FWACK! FWACK! FWACK!// Deanna finishes a series of particularly hard, clipped strokes with the hairbrush before setting it down on the nightstand beside her and taking how of Michelle's swollon buttocks, one in each hand. Michelle, for her part, winces loudy, then whimpers as Governess Deanna kneads the warm flesh with strong, firm fingers. (color:red)[Should Michelle's hairbrush spanking continue? Or should Deanna change the punishment?] [[Continue hairbrush spanking|HAIRBRUSH]] [[Finish with the nursery cane|CANING]]

"Naughty girl," she tuts. "I ought to have you spread these cheeks apart for 10 hard swats with the nursery cane. Don't you think I ought to?" Michelle chokes out a sob. "Y-yes, Governness." "Then what are you waiting for? Bring it to me." Michelle gets up shakily and walks to the desk, where a stunningly brutal array of implements are lined across the surface. A variety of rattan canes in different sizes -- some as longer than Michelle's arm, finger to shoulder -- are carefully kept in a cushioned case. She takes the smallest -- the nursery cane, the length and breath of a conductor's batton -- and brings it obediently to Deanna before bending over the chair the counsellor has just been sitting in. The chair back presses against her mid-section as she reaches back to pull apart her buttocks, revealing her tight, pink rear port. Governess Deanna shrugs her shoulders to loosen them. As she steps forward, her heels click on the bare floor between carpets. Her eyes trace the space between Michelle's reddened buttocks and thighs, noting with satisfaction the heat pouring off the cadet's once-pale bottom. She lines up the thin cane for a stroke. //FWIP!// "Gaaaah!" "Count these, Michelle. "Y-yes, miss...o-one..." "Oh, not //that// one. We're starting from the top." "Yes, miss." //THWIP!// The pain is searing, laser-like in its concentration, and Michelle cries out wildly before shouting, half out of breath, "One!" Each stinging //FWIP!// seems to bring her closer to collapse, but she bravely lockes her knees, her fingers twitching as they hold her heinie open. When, at last, Michelle has reached the last stroke, the tender flesh between her buttocks is covered with bright red lines, crossing like an elongated asterisk, blazing like hellfire. "Ten!" Gasping and sobbing, Michelle lifts one leg and crosses it over the other, falling forward over the chair and whimpering. She's always had a small bladder This has happened before. But every time, it's freshly humiliating. She feels the warm pee streaming in rivulets down her quivering legs, and at the same moment she feels her body shudder as, for the second time since she gave Deanna the rattan cane, she cums... ------- [[Continue|STORY 3]]

Troi gives Michelle's bottom a hard, firm-handed swat to make her cheeks wobble, and the cadet squeaks in pain. "Not nearly finished yet," Governess Troi declares. "Your naughty bottom is hardly sorry at this point. But it //will// be. And every time you're impolite, it will be //again.//" "Yes, miss!" Michelle manages. Her stomach sinks as she hears the counsellor taking her hairbrush off the nightstand over her head. A soft //clack//, and Michelle's fate is sealed. She clenches her eyes shut tight. //FWACK// "Oooowww!" //FWACK!// "Gahaa! I'm sorry, Governess Troi!" //FWACK!// "Aaaaiiiieeea!" She scissors her legs frantically at the knee, each new swat like a phaser blast against her tushy. As the smacks reign down in the soundproofed Counsellor's quarters, Michelle imagines herself a well-chastised girl in one of the historical holo-decks. //If I really had been impolite,// she thinks, blinking through tears, //I would NEVER be naughty again!// //FWACK!// She drops her head, wailing, tears spilling down her face. //No. I know that's not true...// Every new smack is a new burst of pain, as hot and magnificent as a sun flare. She's fully sobbing now, her bottom and thighs a bright and shiny red, darkened at the center of each cheek where the marks are forming bruises. She won't sit comfortably for days. Her sex is throbbing now, a mere hard //FWACK// away from release. But instead, she hears the hairbrush being set down. She quivers, panting hard, her insides churning. She knows what comes next... [[Finish with the nursery cane|CANING]]

Michelle's mouth falls open as Ship Counselor Troi loads the new program to the holodeck. The tele-screen shows a preview display: an overcast sky looms through a small, green-curtained window as the flickering lamplight illuminates a modest den. Speechless, Michelle turns to her superior brimming with questions. "The program was nearly ready as you sent it," Counselor Troi says. "This is your work more than mine. And don't worry: the scenario is precisely as we discussed." Michelle's eyes widen. Her heart is fluttering. She feels as though she might burst at the very idea... The scenario they settled on is Michelle's design, with some critical input from Deanna. The program will place her on Earth in 1940s England, specifically London, under the care and tutelage of a young British widow who lost her husband in the bombings. Within the program as Michelle encoded it, the wealthy widow is almost //unreasonably// strict. Michelle can expect to be thrashed for even the //smallest// infractions. And the mere thought of it makes her knees weak. "The only addition I made," Troi says, "is to add myself. Or, rather, //Governness// Troi." She grins. "My hologram version is, if I may say, a skillfully made replica." Her eyes twinkle. "And, just like the real thing, she will //not// tolerate back-talk." Michelle's privates ache. She thinks of the cane. She thinks of her own hot bottom, blistered and throbbing beneath her loose sleepwear. She blushes hotly and looks down. But Deanna takes her chin in her hand and lifts her face. "Use the holodeck all you want. But don't forget: at least twice a week, I'll be coming in to give you the real thing..." [[Continue|STORY 5]]

It's no surprise that, despite how late it is, Michelle can't seem to fall asleep after Troi leaves her with the program. She tosses and turns from side to side, unable to bear the sting of sleeping on her back, and eventually drifts away soundly on her tummy with her pillow beneath her, red bottom naked and lifted in the air. But her alarm wakes her barely an hour later. Despite her tiredness, Michelle completes her tasks quickly. Each time she passes Counsellor Troi in the corridors she looks directly at the floor, feeling heat rising in her cheeks and her ears. She works diligently, and in her meeting with the Chief Conn Officer, she's soft-spoken but highly efficient. At last, her duties completed, she goes to the holodeck. The program is designed to run in partial real-time. One hour in the holodeck may be only a minute or so in the ship. Before leaving last night, Deanna warned her not to spend more than 2 hours in the holodeck -- not because it would cause suspicion (a cadet's duties in mid-flight are minimal, and Troi could always cover for her), but because of how severe the discipline had been programmed to be. "You'll find the widow has...//personal reasons// for wanting to spank you, Michelle," she said. "Even on your best behavior, she'll find //something// to punish you for." But that's exactly what Michelle wants. So as she enters the holodeck with her heart in her throat, she sets the program time for two hours and closes her eyes. When she opens them, she'll be a Japanese orphan in World War II era Great Britain, fully at the whims of a strict widow and her household staff. It's everything she's dreamed of since she saw that historical holocast so many years ago. And yet, she has //no idea// what she's about to get herself into... #**TO BE CONTINUED...**

(set:$day=1)0600 hours, AM: the synchronized flurescents of the cabin power on, basking everything in white light. It’s zero hour on the ship, where all tasks need to be completed in te timeliest of manners. Throughout the cabin, cadets are groggily waking and shambling to their posts. Work on the U.S.S. Capital is never done. Not a problem for Michelle, though. She’s spent the entire night completing her tasks early, specifically so that she can use the holodeck program without anyone noticing she’s gone. She’s picked a Tuesday, a day when her tasks are solitary, so no team will miss her, and no supervisor will wonder where she is. For two hours, Michelle will be in the world of her and Troi’s creation. She pads, barefoot, to the unused holodeck and seals the door behind her. She’s too excited to even change out of her sleepwear – not that it matters, of course, as the program will //give// her clothes. Deanna Troi will be watching the portal, covering as Michelle enters a world that no one on the ship can ever know about. Michelle enters the circular base of the holodeck and stands at the center. In a clear voice, she instructs the holodeck program to launch. The world goes white. A whirring noise rises, deafening, blocking out the sound of the distant, monotone voice reading mission briefings over the intercom system. Michelle closes her eyes as the ship disappears, her breath caught in her throat, her heart thumping, and her pulse pounding in her ears...(set:$show_header=1) [[Continue|EXPLORE (DAY 1)]]

“Quit your gawping, child,” Governess Troi snaps. Her voice is the same as outside of the program, only this one is tinged with an accent that only seems to add venom to her vowels. “You know precisely what your punishment for oversleeping entails of, no? Don’t wait for me to instruct you.” Michelle’s mouth feels numb. She tries to speak, but not even a stammer will come out. //P-punishment?// When Michelle says nothing, the Governess raises one thin eyebrow and clucks her tongue. “Frisky today, are we?” she says in a warning tone. “The lady will hear of this, Michelle.” “I-um, I don’t –“ The Governess is on her faster than Michelle can even cry out, her ear between the Governess’s tight grip. She squeals as the hologram Troi turns her around with an easy turn of her wrist so that she’s leaning over the writing desk, pinned with her arms beneath her. //Real pain,// she thinks, gasping. The sensation of the Governess pinching her ear is //real.// She can feel the Governess’s breath against her neck. “If you won’t take the position on your own, I’ll just have to lead you to it, hm? Now, then. What have you done with your maintenance paddle?” [[Continue|OVERSLEEPING 2]]

"As a matter of fact, I //do// recall," Guinan says. She strides over to the counter as Michelle watches her, slack-jawed. "The plum pudding recipe I gave you is my grandmother's, and it requires nine plums. I //know// my manservant brought that many, because I checked myself." She leans over the bowl. "But I only see eight in here." Michelle watches, dumbfounded, as Guinan turns towards her, eyes flashing. "G-Guinan?" The words escape her before she can check herself. //WHACK!// (set:$guinan="met") Michelle gasps as the Governess suddenly boxes her ear. "What on //earth// has gotten into you, child?!" The Governess's eyes are furious and wide. Her slender face contorts with a rage Michelle has never seen on the calm ship counselor before, neither on the hologram nor in real life. "Not only do you steal from our guest, but you speak to her like she's your //playmate?!// This is //Lady Guinan// -- //Miss// to you!" Governess Troi purses her lips, not taking her eyes off Michelle as she grabs a wooden spoon from the counter. Michelle flinches, cringing and grabbing her bottom out of instinct. "Ohho," the Governess laughs. "You know quite well what happens now. Taking sweets that aren't yours //and// disrespecting an elder? We are going to teach you manners in this house, no matter if you don't sit right from now until you're thirty-five! Over that counter //now//, young lady! You are in for the punishment of your //life!//" "Just a moment, Governess." Guinan's calm, even voice cuts the sound to silence. The Governess, never one to falter, turns and lowers the spoon. "As it was my plum the girl took," Guinan says, "I would prefer it if I could give her the proper punishment. Would you be amenable to this?" [[Continue|TAKING SWEETS 1]]

(if:$answers is "incorrect")[Michelle is bent over at the waist, her dress pulled up and her panties pulled down. Her face blushes hot from the embarassment and the excitement of feeling cool air once against on her (print:$bottom) behind. "Five incorrect answers means 25 strokes with the cane," the Governess says curtly. "I trust that you have not forgotten to count since our lesson this morning?" Michelle purses her lips and nods. The caning is fierce, swift, and never-ending. Each stroke leaves Michelle gasping for breath, her throat sore from screaming, a welt rising on her backside in a criss-cross patter of fiery red. Her knees start shaking at stroke five. By stroke ten, she's grunting and moaning, kicking up her feet helplessly to shake the pain from her rump. By fifteen, tears are welling in her eyes, and by twenty, they're streaming down her face. The //fffffFWOP!// of the cane is as merciless as the Governess's stern face as Michelle's bottom takes on new and purple-y shades. The final strokes nearly knock her over. She screams bloody murder with the last one -- hiding, beneath the shrill cry, a cresting orgasm that rocks through her body as the blissful surge of pain swells once more... Afterware, Michelle takes her cornertime with her nose holding a shilling against the wall. The Governess paces behind her and reads from the lesson as Michelle, sniffling and crying, blinks back tears.(set:$soreness=$soreness+1) And then, Michelle is left on her own again. "Your studies are over for today -- go to your room and pull yourself together before dinner, child. Honestly, for a girl so lucky, you cry so //often//." With that, she leaves Michelle to furtively rub her ruby red buttocks alone.](else-if:$answers is "correct")["Over my knee, child," the Governess says. She produces a flat, well-worn slipper, and Michelle's heart soars. //Exactly like the holodeck//, she thinks, remembering back to that program so many years ago, when her obsession first took root... And it truly is //exactly// like that fateful lesson. Michelle brips tightly onto the folds of the Governess's skirts as Troi swats her bottom //hard// with the pliant slipper until she achieves a solid red coat. Every //thwokk!// is pitch-perfect, and Michelle feels the desire building inside of her as her head drops, her loins throb, and her bottom takes the punishing blows, the sharp slipper reports //thwokk!//ing in her ears. Her bottom is fully red and swollen by the time the Governess decides she's learned her lesson, and by then naughty Michelle has already reached completion twice. Cornertime takes on new dimensions of meaning as she holds a six-pence against the wall, mind empty, exhausted, her red bottom on display and her wet pussy aching.(set:$soreness=$soreness+1) And then, Michelle is left on her own again. "Your studies are over for today -- go to your room and pull yourself together before dinner, child. Honestly, for a girl so lucky, you cry so //often//." Michelle hadn't even realized she'd been crying. But now, as another wave of pain washing over her from her buttocks and thighs, she realizes she's been crying ever since her first orgasm. "We have a guest this evening, and we're preparing a nice meal" the Governess says. "In a few minutes, I'll be asking you to help me. You //will// earn your keep here -- understand?" With that, she leaves Michelle to furtively rub her ruby red buttocks alone.] [[Continue|EXPLORE (DAY 1)]]

At 10am, it's time for morning tea. (if:$day is 1)[Michelle sits down to morning tea on a sore bottom, (print:$bottom) from her morning paddling. The pain makes tears well up in her eyes. She crosses and uncrosses her legs, her mind aflutter: //Was that the hardest spanking I've ever taken? Or is it just this PLACE -- this TIME -- that makes me feel everything so much clearer?// She sips the hot tea, the warm, rising steam ticking her nose and bringing a pleasant glow to her cheeks. She shifts from one buttock to the other, wincing softly, the pain in her swollen tushy like the roaring fireplace still blazing in her mind's eye... //So,// she thinks, pressing her lips together in a wry smile and taking another small sip. //I've met the Governess. But what about the lady of the house?// Janet Winters -- a widow in middle age, still mourning the death of her husband. Michelle's adopted mother, her guardian. A firm, unyeilding believer in corporal punishmnent. Adept with a cane, even more so with a doubled belt. The hologram equivalent of every naughty child's worst nightmare. Michelle squirms just thinking about her. But she'll have to meet her sooner or later...//Maybe tomorrow...// Michelle thinks, wincing again. //I don't know how much more of the holodeck I can stand today!// //What now?// she thinks. [[End the program|STORY 8]] [[Go exploring|EXPLORE (DAY 1)]]]

At 2pm, it's time for lessons. Michelle is brought to a small study, where Governess Troi sits at a broad desk reading a book with her glasses perched at the tip of her nose. The hologram doesn't look up as she enters, but simply puts her hand flat on a stack of books and pushes it in Michelle's direction. (if:$day is 1)[Michelle takes the seat across from her and picks up her pencil. She opens the first book, a hardcover labelled "YEAR 3 MATHEMATICS: ALGERBRA 1." The pages are full of basic algerbra problems -- far below what a 16-year-old Cadet would be learning in the present year, what with accelerated learning ports and new age technologies. She scans the problems carefully and notes that she could complete all of them with ease. //But should I?// In this world, Michelle is an orphaned girl with little schooling. The program is conditioned to see her that way, with no exceptions. //If I'm suddenly a high-level maths student, I don't know how the program will react...// [[Answer all questions correctly]<correct| [Answer some incorrectly on purpose]<incorrect|]<interaction|{ }(click:?correct)[(replace:?interaction)[Michelle easily completes the two dozen problems within a few minutes, her pencil hardly lifting from the paper once. Governess Troi glances at her suspiciously as she puts her pencil down and sits back from the paper, confidently folding her arms.(set:$answers="correct") [[Continue|SPANKED FOR STUDIES]]]]{ }(click:?incorrect)[(replace:?interaction)[Michelle answers the questions carefully, pausing every so often to press her eraser against her cheek as she considers what a beginner student might mistake. She answers a few of the questions incorrectly on purpose, knowing full well the Governess is carefully watching...(set:$answers="incorrect") [[Continue|SPANKED FOR STUDIES]]]]]

Michelle whimpers as she lies down flat on her belly, burying her tear-stained face in her arms. Her black hair pools on the cool creases of the pillow and sticks to the wetness of her face. She reaches one hand back and rubs her (print:$bottom) bottom with a hiccuping sob. Even the gentle brushing of the silk nightgown against her haunches is searing pain. Heaving a sigh, she stands, pulls the nightgown over her head, and lies down again completely nude. She doesn't know if sleeping in the nude is against the rules of this household, or if the Widow will simply claim it is to give her another punishment. But //that// is a problem for tomorrow. She puts a pillow beneath her waist to keep her bottom lifted in the air. In the dark blue room, Michelle imagines her backside glowing like a beacon of scarlet light. Swallowing another sob, Michelle reaches back and traces her fingers along the curve of her well-spanked behind. The flesh is still hot to the touch, like the heat of the recently extinguished kerosene lamp at the corner of the room. She turns her head and looks out the window. The moon has risen over London, waxing and white, and the starlight bathes the town below. The pain in her tushy ebbs and flows like a receding tide. Michelle becomes lost in thought with her bright red bottom lifted in the air, the constant sting becoming a passive comfort, like watching a crackling fire. She //never// thought she would be spanked like this. Never //dreamed// she would have her fantasy so fully and totally realized. She snorts, grinning in spite of the tears. (if:$realization > 0)[[[Continue|ENDING OF DAY 1]]](else:)[[[End the program|ATTEMPT TO END PROGRAM]]]

"G-Governess Troi?" Michelle stammers. The hologram turns as she's leaning over to drain the bath water, her shirt sleeve rolled up nearly to her shoulder. "Yes?" she says. "I, um..." Michelle swallows hard. She's standing completely in the nude on a bathmat, hands over her small breasts, feeling the hardness of her nipples against her palms. Her towel is draped over her shoulders, and she hasn't even dried herself yet -- the wanting in her is so great it drowns out everything, even the chilliness of the cool air against her wet skin. She drops her eyes, unable to meet Troi's as the Governess stands to her full height. "I...I feel b-bad -- I mean, I'm sorry for what...//happened// when I was w-with Mrs. Winters a-and...I was wondering if you could...p-punish me for it?" The Governess raises her thin eyebrows and frowns -- but it isn't an unhappy expression. She actually seems surprised. Even vaguely pleased. She folds her arms over her large chest and tuts. "Punish you?" the Governess says. "There are many ways to //punish// a naughty girl. I must say I'm glad to hear you talking //sense// for once, Michelle, rather than whinging about how terribly //unfair// everything is like so many your age. But I'm afraid you'll need to be more //specific//." She tilts her head. "How shall I punish you, Michelle?" Michelle feels her throat tighten. She meets the Governess's eyes and immediately wants to turn away, but finds to her horror that she can't. Her green eyes are locked on Troi's amber ones, her frightened stare fixed on Troi's challenging gaze. "I m-meant...could you please s-spank me?" she says at last. The Governess's stern face breaks suddenly into a grin. "Why, I think we can do that, //yes//. Over my knee, naughty girl!" [[Continue|BATH BRUSH 1]]

The second that the words leave Michelle's lips, she knows she's made a terrible mistake. Time itself seems to stand still. The fire ceases crackling, as though all of the air had just left the room. Michelle's eyes widen as she realizes what she's done -- and with her bottom //fully bared//, no less! //Oh FUCK...// "Young //lady//," the Governess says in a tone like the cracking of a frozen lake. "I do believe I asked you to //count//...not to state the //obvious//." Michelle bites her lip. "Y-yes, ma'am. I-I'm sorry, m--" "Not //another word//." The Governess steps back to get a look at Michelle's face. She stares intently at Michelle's profile -- Michelle is too afraid to meet her gaze. Then she steps back towards Michelle's naked haunches, and the cadet feels her stomach do yet another forward somersault. "Well," she says simply, in a voice that is far, far too chipper. "If it's too difficult for you to count -- then we won't count. We'll just continue, until I think the point is made." She leans forward, and Michelle feels her eyes boring into her again. "Do I make myself clear, Michelle?" "Y-yes." "Good." The Governess sets the paddle against the side of the chair, and for a moment, Michelle almost thinks she might be granting mercy. Until the swats begin. The Governess warms Michelle's bottom over fully with a series of hand-spanks that ring out through the room. Each //slap// is hard and fierce enough to make Michelle wince and cry out with pain, and the speed leaves her no time to catch her breath before the next awful //phlap!// sends her bottom dancing again. Her entire backside is a deep and rosey red before long, and Michelle is grunting and gasping, wishing she could go back to the time when she would only have //twenty// spanks to worry about. But this is nothing. Once the Governess is satisfied with the even red coating of her handprints all across Michelle's bottom and thighs, she picks up the paddle again. Michelle actually gasps -- she doesn't know what she'd been hoping for, but -- //FFFFWOCK!// "Oooooooo//ooooooaaaah!//" -- //this// is not it. //FWOCK! FWACK! FWOCK!// The paddle comes down //hard// on Michelle's sore tushy, each swat devastating, jolting her forward, scooching her chair forward on the floor. After five ripping spanks, Michelle is in greater pain than she's ever felt: her backside is completely aflame, and she can already feel the deep maroon blooming on the once-pale flesh. Her spanking continues until -- as promised -- the point is //well// past made. Each crack sends Michelle's bottom roiling, her round cheeks glowing brighter as the marks blossom all up and down her thighs. Before each stroke, she clenches her buttocks together, only to fail and release them, showing a glimpse of the dark eye between, after the paddle //THWACKS// hard against her punished bottom. She fully loses count even //before// she starts to sob. By the time the spanking is finished, she's blubbering and whimpering like an infant, her knuckles white on the chair-back, her bottom crimson and magenta. "There. That will teach you that when I say to //count//, I do indeed mean to //count//. Because if //I// decide the count...woe to you!" Sniffling and hiccuping, she stands as the Governess lets her. A bubble of spit forms at her nose, and she rubs it away. The Governess tuts. "Oh, come now," she says. "Buck up, child. Your day has only just begun!"(set:$soreness=$soreness+1) [[Continue|GET DRESSED]]

Unable to hold it a moment longer, Michelle whimpers as her bladder gives way. Peeing yourself is never a very nice feeling, but as Michelle is about to learn, peeing yourself while you're //hanging upside-down naked// is exceptionally unpleasant. The force of the sudden release is so great that golden piss sprays out before showering down, reaching halfway up her bare thighs. Her warm pee runs down her midsection in thick rivulets, stinking as it traces between her breasts and up her neck. She purses her lips tightly and closes her eyes as piss rushes over her face and into her hair, dripping from her eyebrows pattering as it hits the carpeted floor. She tries to keep her mouth closed tightly -- but her hiccuping sobs have taken her breath away, and soon she needs to gasp for air again. The pee rushes into her mouth and she sputters, the taste bitter and potent. Still. The feeling of relief is //heavenly//. Orgasmic, even. The pleasure makes her thighs quiver, and fear of what the widow will say makes her buttocks clench. When, finally, the last squirts of pee are finished trailing down between her buttocks, her whole body shivers and she moans. She turns on the rope slowly until the widow comes back into view. Janet Winters is watching with a sneer. She tilts her head and folds her arms. "Are you quite done making a mess, young lady?" Michelle, panting and closing , manages to reply: "Mm-hm!"(set:$peeing=1) "Then let's continue your punishment. But don't think for a //moment//," the widow says, biting her words fiercely, "that there won't be //consequences// for that shameful little display!" [[Continue|WIDOW 2]]

Janet Winters is seated in an armchair when Michelle obeys her command to "Come in." She's writing something with a quill pen -- there's a book, maybe a journal, on her lap. When Michelle enters, she snaps the book shut and stands, looking like an annoyed schoolmarm hoping to get a lesson over and done with so she can have some //peace//. The attic is a large room, quite spacious, especially in height. The rafters are exposed, and Michelle can't help but note with some trepidation that there's a long cord hanging over the central rafter with both ends dangling to the ground. "Panties off," the widow says simply. She almost sounds //weary//. As though this were such a common routine that she feels as though she shouldn't have to remind Michelle to take off her underwear before approaching. //Then again, maybe in this virtual world it really IS routine...// Michelle peels down her panties and steps out of the legholes. Assuming that she'll need to take off her skirt as well, she begins to pull up her dress. "What are you doing?" the widow snaps. Michelle looks up blankly. "Um..." "Oh, //really//," the widow protests. "Must I tell you how to do //everything// a second time?" Michelle is speechless. She watches Janet Winters' hard face for a sign of mercy and sees none. Janet sighs. "On the //ground,// please," she says, clutching the bridge of her nose. Michelle sits on the wooden floor, and Janet comes to her. As she approaches, she grabs one end of the long rope over the rafters. "Hold still," Janet says. She grabs Michelle by her foot and wraps the rope around her ankle, once, twice, three times. She ties a hitch knot expertly and tightens it around Michelle's thin leg. And Michelle is still wondering what is going to happen next when Janet goes to the other side of the rope, takes it in both hands, and //pulls//. [[Continue|WIDOW 1]]

(if:$explore is 0)[Michelle blinks as the holodeck lights fade. She is no longer in the blue room. No longer standing on the circular base. She is somewhere else entirely. She’s holding something which, in her confusion, she drops. It clatters to the floor. She glances around to discover she’s been transported to a dimly lit room with a crackling fire to her right. Shadows cast by the various iron implements – the gently swaying stoker, the brush for ash, the tongs to lift and place logs in the brick hearth – flicker and dance across the forest-green carpet, the pattern faded by pacing and age. The windows are small, peeking out over a cobblestone road and staid buildings, the dusky sky overcast and gloomy. She can hear the sound of bustling city life drifting in, muffled by the thick drapes. A mahogany writing desk stands before the largest two windows at the far side of the room. There’s an oil lamp on a wooden nightstand table in the corner, the glass dusty. The sofa in front of the fireplace is loaded with throw pillows that seem to have not been moved in quite some time. She looks down at herself. Her sleepwear is gone. In its place, a silken nightgown sweeps across her feet and the floor. She lifts the hem of the skirt up to her navel, just to see the undergarments pinching at her thighs. The fabric is frilly and childish. Michelle has to confirm it, even though she already knows. She walks past the desk and throw open the drapes. The air is fresh and cold and full of rain, and the cars that glide along the street look like hearses. She turns and notices for the first time an antique radio in the corner. She goes to it and turns the dial with a quivering hand. The staticy voice fills the room. The accent is British, the tone clipped. //-- from the front continues to be grim. We’ve just passed the top of the hour, October 3rd, 8 AM, year-of-our-Lord 1941. The Prime Minister will speak this afternoon after meeting the Treasury Secretary regarding fabric rations. Severe austerity measures are expected to pass, as the continued attacks bring London closer to --// She turns the knob again, and the voice stops. //It worked.// Michelle’s lips part and her eyes widen as she takes in the room. //It actually worked...// There’s a knock on the door, and Michelle gasps, clutching at herself and backing up onto the desk. Her thoughts race as she struggles to grasp her situation. //What am I doing in this room?// she thinks frantically. She smooths down her nightgown. //Am—Am I in trouble? Who’s on the other side of the door?// Well before Michelle can calm herself and collect her thoughts, the door opens...and [[Ship Counselor Troi|GOVERNESS TROI]] walks in.(set:$explore=1) [[Continue|SPANKED FOR OVERSLEEPING]]]{ }(else-if:$explore is 1)[(if:$realization is 1)[Michelle's thoughts are racing. //What happened? Why can't I end the program?// She glances up to see if her Governess is watching her. //Must be something wrong with the computer relays on the ship,// she thinks.(set:$realization=2) When did she tell Troi -- the //real// Troi -- to enter the program? She can't even remember. But she tries to stay calm, tapping into her cadet training to regulate her breathing. Assess your surroundings. Consider options objectively. //Do not panic.// //Okay,// she thinks. //I'm trapped in the holodeck for now...but it's a program I designed myself! Nothing in here is going to hurt me...well, more than a spanking hurts, at least. So I've just got to keep my head and make the best of things...like I really AM in this world...// After giving herself a pep talk, she feels somewhat calmer. //This world is REAL for me, now,// she thinks wryly to herself. //And isn't that exactly what I wanted?// ]//Time to do a little exploring,// Michelle thinks. She stands, smooths her dress down over her sore bottom, and peers around the doorframe to where Governess Troi is busy folding laundry in the bedroom. She quietly creeps down the corridor, past her own room, to the loft overlooking the first floor. Michelle was able to access archival footage in putting the Widow Janet Winter’s mansion together, so most of these halls and stairways are unfamiliar to her. She roams the house in her bare feet, thrilling in the roughness of the carpet, the stillness of the air. On the first floor, she comes to another common area with a large mantel above a hearth. There’s a painting of an expressionless man in army fatigues above a short mirror with a timepiece embedded in the center. Michelle looks up at the painting with the feeling of a child looking up at her parent: it towers above her, the handsome, moustachioed man in the portrait seeming preoccupied with something far over her head, unaware of her presense. //This must be Albert Winters...// Michelle thinks to herself. Albert’s story was mainly assembled from exisiting code. A British soldier-turned-emissary to Hong Kong, Albert was one of the very first casualties when the Axis powers of Japan started invading British territories. The details of his death were still unclear. The Japanese were known, even at the time, to be particularly brutal in their treatment of Prisoners of War. In a way, Albert may have been lucky that he was killed in battle...though the still-grieving Janet Winters would never see it that way. As her eyes leave the portrait, Michelle glimpses herself in the mirror. At first, she thinks she’s conjuring the thought in her mind’s eye. Then, as she lingers on her own Japanese features, her dark hair and almond-shaped eyes, the realization strikes her like a thunderbolt. //Oh my god,// she thinks, her eyes widening. Of course! The entire reason the widow Janet Winters chose to adopt a teenager in the midst of wartime rations becomes suddenly and agonizingly clear. Michelle wasn’t adopted in spite of being Japanese – she was taken in //because// she’s Japanese. She’s a scape goat. A vessel for Janet Winters to take out all of her rage and her grief. //That’s why she wants me spanked for every little thing,// Michelle thinks, slack-jawed, ears ringing. //She’s punishing ME...// //...for what happened to HIM!//(set:$explore=2) [[Continue|STORY 9]](unless:$realization > 0)[ [[End the program|STORY 8]]]]{ }(else-if:$explore is 2)[(if:$realization is 1)[Michelle's thoughts are racing. //What happened? Why can't I end the program?// She glances up to see if her Governess is watching her. //Must be something wrong with the computer relays on the ship,// she thinks.(set:$realization=2) When did she tell Troi -- the //real// Troi -- to enter the program? She can't even remember. But she tries to stay calm, tapping into her cadet training to regulate her breathing. Assess your surroundings. Consider options objectively. //Do not panic.// //Okay,// she thinks. //I'm trapped in the holodeck for now...but it's a program I designed myself! Nothing in here is going to hurt me...well, more than a spanking hurts, at least. So I've just got to keep my head and make the best of things...like I really AM in this world...// After giving herself a pep talk, she feels somewhat calmer. //This world is REAL for me, now,// she thinks wryly to herself. //And isn't that exactly what I wanted?// ]“Make yourself useful,” the Governess says (and is ever-fond of saying). She drops a wooden cutting board on the counter before Michelle with a clatter. She bumps Michelle out of the way with her hip – easily, because the Governess towers over Michelle, even more than Deanna Troi does in real life – and demonstrates the proper technique for peeling a potato. The gray skin slides off under the Governess’ practiced thumb as though it never wanted to be a part of the potato to begin with. Then she places the peeler and a fresh potato in front of Michelle, stepping aside. “We need eight for the stew – and don’t peel them thin, either! I’ll know if my dinner tonight is watery. I’ll be in the other room folding the lady’s clothes, and //you// will be a good girl helping with dinner. Understand?” Michelle nods and takes the potato, looking at it like it’s a book written in a mysterious language. The Governess scoffs. “Don’t just //stare// at it, girl! Get to peeling!” Her dress sways as she leaves the room, shouting over her shoulder before she leaves: “And be quick about it – I haven’t much laundry to fold, and if I come back in before it’s done, I’ll light your naughty bottom like a match!” Michelle flinches as the door slams closed. Despite being from a future with vegetable-peeling technology galore, Michelle actually makes fairly quick work of the potatoes. She finds the job relaxing, in a way, even though the skin is much tougher than the Governess’s demonstration would have had her believe. She breathes a happy sigh as she sets the eighth white potato in the pot, feeling quite proud of herself. She even fills the pot with water and puts it over the flame. Out of the corner of her eye, she spies a bowl behind a canvas sack marked SUGAR: the bowl is full above the rim with plums for tonights desert. Just looking at the plums makes her mouth water. They’re so sweet and juicy she can practically taste them. Michelle can still hear the Governess bustling around the other room. Her folding is taking longer than she thought. The Governess won’t be preparing the meal, so she won’t know if one of the plums goes missing...right? [[Take one of the plums]<take| [Leave them alone]<leave|]<choice|{ }(click:?take)[(replace:?choice)[Michelle snatches the largest plum and sinks her teeth into it before her mind can disagree. Her stomach is //very// pleased with her. The plum is even more delicious than she thought it would be. She scarfs it down and wipes the juice from her face before the Governess comes to the door, hiding the pit in the folds of her dress. When the Governess sees Michelle from the doorway, her face is relaxed, expressionless. But when she turns, she sees the bowl...and her eyes narrow. Her nostrils flare. For a moment, Michelle expects the Governess to ask her if she ate the plum. The lie springs to the tip of her tongue, poised and ready. But instead, the Governess turns and says loudly out the door. "Miss Guinan! Would you come in here from a minute?" Michelle's brow furrows in confusion. When 'Miss Guinan' appears in the doorway, her jaw drops... [[Continue|MISS GUINAN]]]] { }(click:?leave)[(replace:?choice)[Michelle reaches back and touches her tender, still-warm bottom. Even beneath her frilly skirts, the slightest touch makes her wince. //I can’t risk another spanking...not now! Not for a piece of fruit!// [[Continue|EXPLORE (DAY 1)]](unless:$realization > 0)[ [[End the program|STORY 8]]]]](set:$explore=3)]{ }(else-if:$explore is 3)[(if:$realization is 1)[Michelle's thoughts are racing. //What happened? Why can't I end the program?// She glances up to see if her Governess is watching her. //Must be something wrong with the computer relays on the ship,// she thinks.(set:$realization=2) When did she tell Troi -- the //real// Troi -- to enter the program? She can't even remember. But she tries to stay calm, tapping into her cadet training to regulate her breathing. Assess your surroundings. Consider options objectively. //Do not panic.// //Okay,// she thinks. //I'm trapped in the holodeck for now...but it's a program I designed myself! Nothing in here is going to hurt me...well, more than a spanking hurts, at least. So I've just got to keep my head and make the best of things...like I really AM in this world...// After giving herself a pep talk, she feels somewhat calmer. //This world is REAL for me, now,// she thinks wryly to herself. //And isn't that exactly what I wanted?// ]Dinner in the Winters household is a chilly affair. (if:$guinan is "met")[Guinan skips the meal, claiming that her travels have made her more hungry than tired -- //She didn't seem tired when she was spanking me,// Michelle reflects bitterly. Still, she doesn't show.](else:)[Their household has a guest, Michelle learns...but the guest skips the meal because she's 'tired from a long journey'."] Michelle and Janet Winters eat alone. Michelle eats her stew silently, occasionally casting a glance at the other end of the table where Janet Winters holds a glass of red wine by the stem. She wishes she could have some – getting tipsy might help her forget the burning in her backside, if only temporarily. But she’d take a spanking from Governess Troi a //hundred// more time before trying to ask the Widow for wine. The thought of it is so ridiculous she almost laughs. //Hey, um, Janet? I know I’m young and all, but, uh, could I get a glass of your house red? Mmmm...1939 – what a vintage!// She snorts into her stew. “You //will// show decorum in my presence, child.” The Widow’s voice is like a chilled blade, numbing and cutting and //chopping// off syllables like fish heads. Michelle feels her arsehole pucker with fear as her stomach lurches. “Yes, Ma’am,” she says in a trembling voice. The Widow doesn’t reply. A few minutes later, her meal still mostly un-eaten, she stands from the table decoriously and excuses herself. As she leaves, she tosses her napkin down on the table with a flourish. Michelle is considering the cost-benefit analysis of pouring herself some wine in the Widow’s absense when Janet reappears in the threshold. “And don’t forget your maintenance this evening,” she says, looking at Michelle through her thin nostrils. Michelle’s throat tightens, and her stomach does another backflip. “We’ll meet in the attic this time, I think. A huit heures et demi.” She raises one elegant eyebrow. “...You understand?” Michelle swallows her stew, staring blankly and feeling as though she were about six inches tall. The Widow sighs. “Your French tutoring is apparently not coming along well – I’ll be sure to inform the Governess that you need a //stricter// curriculum.” She steps back from the door. “8:30pm. In the attic. Don’t be late.” And with that, she leaves. Of course, Michelle can concentrate on nothing else, even after her bowl is empty and the pudding is served. She’s only thinking of the Widow, of her raised eyebrow and the way her nostrils flare when she sighs. //And the way she’s going to spank me like there’s no tomorrow...// she thinks wryly. //What did she call it? Maintenance? What does that even MEAN?// Only one way to find out. At 8:20pm, Michelle steps back from the table as the maid comes to collect the dishes. She walks up the stairs in a trance, clenching her fists absently as she reaches the attic door...(set:$explore=4) [[Continue|SPANKED BY THE WIDOW]]]{ }(else-if:$explore is 4)[Michelle can hardly see through the tears as she’s guided by her wrist through the long corridors. Her rear end feels as though it were completely aflame, and the sound of her own hiccuping sobs can hardly rise above the ringing in her ears. Dripping tears, she’s taken by the Governess to the master bathroom adjacent to her own bedroom, where Governess Troi roughly removes her blouse and her knickers. There’s a hissing sound here, but Michelle is too preoccupied with her throbbing buttocks to identify it as she enters. It turns out to be the running of a bath. Michelle turns and sees her naked reflection in the mirror. Her small chest is heaving, her breasts pale, nipples erect. Her face is shiny with tears, and her raven hair is in a complete disarray. The Governess turns her roughly, and she manages to catch a glimpse of her (print:$bottom) bottom. Thoroughly seared from the top of her buttocks to midway down her thigh. The cane left welted stripes in criss-crosses across both cheeks. She’s never had a spanking this painful before, this utterly and completely humiliating... She instinctively covers her sex, as though she could hide how wet she is. Of course, no such modesty would ever be allowed by Governess Troi. Talking sharply about how Michelle “has been asking for a thrashing since she arrived” and needs to “have a stiff upper lip, chin up, be a good girl,” the Governess leads her to the steaming bath and pats her bottom to instruct her to get in. Even the slightest touch makes Michelle cry out in pain. She obeys, of course, and the Governess kneels beside the tub. The warm water makes Michelle bottom sting anew, and she moans miserably as the Governess lathers her with soap and ladles water over her head. At one point, the Governess instructs her to turn over and kneel on all fours, “So I can have a look at you.” Michelle does, then gasps as the Governess’s pinching fingers explore her rear and her privates, soaping her in every nook and cranny. //Oh my GOD,// Michelle thinks, horrified, as the Governess spreads her sore cheeks apart for a more thorough scrubbing. //Can this possibly get any worse?!// Her face turns a near-magenta hue, her ears reddening with the mortification, and she hangs her head, eyes closed... Until an //insane// idea grabs hold of her. A truly //mad// idea. An idea that Michelle can’t even believe she’s //having// -- even as her insides turn over and she gasps at the desire welling up inside her...//But am I REALLY that insane?! Maybe I should just go to bed....// [[Ask the Governess for a bedtime spanking|ASK FOR A SPANKING FROM TROI]] [[Go to bed|STORY 10]]]

Only, it //isn’t// Ship Counselor Troi. That is, it //looks// like her – same hard features, same straight nose and thin nostrils, same dark hair and piercingly intense stare – but it isn’t her at all. It’s a hologram, made by the computer. Troi is wearing an olive green dress and a striped cardigan. Her hair is pulled back into stern, tight curls. This isn’t Ship Counselor Troi at all. It’s... “Governess Troi, I –“ Michelle begins, gripping the desk behind her with both hands. She hadn’t expected just how //lifelike// the holodeck would be. How every sensation – down to the scrubbed wood of the writing desk and the heady scent of the Governess’ perfume – would be so perfectly rendered. In a flash, a realization strikes her that every punishment in this holodeck world will hurt just as desperately, sting just as //truly//, as her ‘punishments’ from Troi in the real world... Perhaps even //more// so. [[Continue|SPANKED FOR OVERSLEEPING]]

Michelle’s eyes widen. Her breath catches in her throat. “Aha!” the Governess declares. “You’ve dropped in here – clumsy today, are we? We know what the lady has to say about your //bumbling//. Let’s have another 5 strokes for that, then, shall we?” Michelle clenches her eyes shut. //Of course. The thing I was holding when the program began was a paddle. I’ve been sent her for a spanking –// The Governess’s voice is tight and irritated when she speaks again. “I asked you a //question//, Miss Yen. I expect you to //answer//.” “Oh! U-um...yes, ma’am?” She scoffs. “You hardly seem sure. Perhaps 10 extra strokes, then. That will wake you up this morning, will it not?” Michelle is looking over her shoulder to see the ‘maintenance paddle’ – And she immediately wishes she hadn’t. [[Look at the paddle|PADDLE]] [[Continue|OVERSLEEPING 3]]

The paddle is the largest she’s ever seen, broad enough to redden every inch of her small bottom in a single swat. It has four rows of three coin-sized holes to allow the air to pass through. The handle as is long as a cricket bat’s, and the swing guaranteed to be twice as hard. Michelle blinks as though from a trance, realizing she's been staring at the awful paddle without speaking. Swallowing hard, she forces her mind to come back to reality. [[Continue|OVERSLEEPING 3]]

“Y-yes, Governess.” Her stomach does a flip. “Better than a cup of tea for waking up naughty girls, I dare say,” the Governess intones. She takes the hem of Michelle’s nightgown. Michelle gasps as the nightgown is lifted over her pearly-white bottom, the air in the drafty room suddenly cool against her thighs. She gets up on the chair that the Governess has pulled in front of her, kneeling with he bottom out, her hands gripping the chair back. She feels the same strange thrill she gets when she's knocking on the door to Deanna Troi's quarters... //Only, that's make-believe,// she thinks. //That's just us playing a game. In this world -- this REAL world -- I'm about to get paddled for real...// She swallows hard. Nothing about this reality is virtual: every goosebump on her flesh is //really// there, and when the paddle swings through the air behind her, she feels the displaced air against her backside. "Count, please. Twenty strokes should be enough," the Governess says in a wry tone. "Unless we have any //whinging,// like the last time. Bottom out!" Michelle closes her eyes and braces. Her back is arched, and her knees are already stiff. Her thighs and rear end part in a lovely way, exposing the intimate space between her buttocks. She closes her eyes. //FFFWOCK!//(set:$soreness=$soreness+1) "Aaahaaa!" Michelle cries out like she's having an epiphany -- and in a way she is. The flat paddle connect with her round bottom with terrible force, jolting her forward and raising pink marks on her behind. [["One!"]<1| [["That //hurts!//|RUDENESS]]]<interaction|(click:?1)[(replace:?interaction)["One!" //FWOCK!// The maintenance paddle cracks against Michelle's bum a second time, sending her lurching forward, chair and all. The pain is so great that the Michelle's breath gets caught in her throat. "T-two!" This is truly a maintenance for the ages. Michelle takes swat after mighty swat from the drilled paddle, each one covering the larger portion of her backside. At first, the spanks make her go into a trance, lose her forcus. It's like she's been interrupted mid-thought: her mind goes suddenly blank, and then the pain in her seat catches her and makes her cringe. But by the 11th stroke, the paddle has won. Michelle starts crying out, shrieking, //howling//, and finally sobbing as the swats ring out through the foyer. //FWACK! FWOCK! FWACK! THWOCK!// When, at last, the final stroke arrives, Michelle is sputtering through tears. "Tw-twenty!" she exclaims. Her backside is fully swollen and sore, hot enough to match the fire at the hearth, the sound of the drilled paddle still ringing in her ears. She stands stiffly from the chair, and the Governess matter-of-factly tells her to go to her bedroom. "I'll take you there my self -- no rubbing, young lady! The soreness is part of the punishment. You're going to put on your dress and be //respectful// today, or you'll be counting twenty //more//!" [[Continue|GET DRESSED]]]]

//Falling asleep might trigger the holodeck to terminate the program,// Michelle thinks. //But then again, it might not. Brainwaves don't stop in sleep.// Placing one cool palm on her left buttock, she wonders idly whether she'll dream of her true reality or about this one... //Either way,// she thinks, //I'm not going anywhere until Deanna Troi realizes something has happened to the program. And who knows when that will be?// Time doesn't work the same way inside of the program -- it's been an entire day in here, but on the ship it may have only been a few minutes. She sniffles, wishing she hadn't covered her tracks so thoroughly before entering the holodeck. //And yet,// she thinks, smiling. She grips her left cheek firmly enough to cause a surge of pain, and gasps softly into her bedspread. //And yet...tomorrow is a new day...// The face of the Widow flashes in her mind, and the grim smile she saw before the first swing of the cane. She realizes suddenly that she's more tired than she's been in years. With her hand still resting on her (print:$bottom) bottom, Michelle Yen drifts into a deep sleep. [[Continue|STORY 11]](set:$day=2)

The Governess lowers her spoon. Michelle feels her chest constrict. //Guinan...wants to SPANK me?!// She blinks rapidly, trying to process the sudden strangeness. //No...it CAN'T be Guinan...just a hologram version of her. Still...// She winces, grimacing at the wooden spoon as it's passed from the Governess to 'Miss Guinan.' //I...I've never been spanked by anyone besides my Governe- I mean, the Ship Counselor -- before...// Governerness Troi is more than happy to hand over the spoon. If anything, she seems relieved that their guest isn't too offended by Michelle's stupidity to participate. "Of course, Miss Guinan," she says, nodding. "That's only fair." "Excelent. Thank you...you see, while I have complete confidence that Janet's household can handle the punishment of a naughty girl, I actually //like// to be a part of the...//correction.//" Guinan grins, her brilliant white teeth as straight and perfect as in the real world. "And I have my own way of doing it, if you don't mind." She turns to Michelle, who is currently bending over the counter with her palms down. "Young lady, please get up onto that wooden table there." Michelle turns. There's a simple table of scrubbed wood behind her where the servants eat. She turns back with a questioning look, but the Governess's expression is enough to take any question from her mind. She gets up on the table on all fours, turns, and sits with her feet dangling. "Good. Now lie back, and take the insides of your knees with both hands." Michelle's heart sinks. She realizes now, of course, what's about to happen. Ship Counselor Troi has spanked her this way many times -- her hologram counterpart is nodding knowingly behind Guinan, a smile on her face. //Diaper position//. Michelle swallows hard. Of all the positions to get spanked in, this one offers maybe the //least// dignity...and that's saying a lot. To be spanked this way -- by //Guinan// of all people! //Just a hologram,// Michelle tells herself as she assumes the position, pulling her legs apart and folding them towards her. Her skirt lies on the table, offering no protection to her panty-clad bottom, already (print:$bottom) from this morning. Still, she reassures herself: //Not the real Guinan...just a hologram...// But Guinan's hands feel very, very real as they caress her backside, then peel off her panties and lift them off her legs. Completely bared, Michelle feels her face redden as she swallows hard once more, and Guinan tapes her upper thigh with the spoon, lining up a swing... [[Continue|TAKING SWEETS 2]]

//CRACK!// The pain //sings// in Michelle's mind as the back of the wooden spoon catches her directly on the sit-spot of her right buttock. She grunts, eyes wide. But she hardly has time to cry out before the second //CRACK// lands on the other cheek, bringing another explosion of singing pain to her tender behind. "Gaaaaha!" "Miss Guinan, I must say," the Governess says as Guinan raises her arm for another swat. "You have an //excellent// form. And the position you've chosen is truly brilliant." //CRACK!// "Aaaaaaieeahaaa!" Michelle clenches her eyes shut, wriggling her bottom helplessly and tightening her grip on the insides of her knees. "Thank you, Troi," Guinan says, smiling. //CRACK!// Michelle's wails can hardly match the throbbing in her ears. "I like this position because of the options it gives -- see? For a really //smarting// whack, I can strike //here//," -- //FWACK!// Michelle howls, tears in her eyes, as the spoon hits her upper thigh -- "or //here//, closer to her intimate places," -- //CRACK!// This blow lands just to the left of her sex, so that Michelle can actually //feel// the vibration across the lips of her pussy and in her anus. "See? The embarrassment is almost as bad as the pain itself." //CRACK!// "Waaahaaaahaaa! I'm //sorry!// I'm //sorry!//" Guinan smirks. "Almost."(set:$soreness=$soreness+1) [[Continue|TAKING SWEETS 3]]

Swaying from the rafters, fully upside down: this is new territory even for a truly obsessed spanko like Michelle. Her skirt flops down over her midsection, revealing her (print:$bottom) bottom with a //fwoosh//. The blood rushes to her head, and she whimpers, turning helplessly. She sees her panties on the floor below her and feels the draught on her bare buttocks, a twinge of fear tightening her stomach. The rope creaks, rotating her until, craning her neck she manages to see the Mistress standing behind her. Michelle's eyes are about level with the widow's midsection. Janet Winters is no longer holding the other end of the rope: she's tied it on an eyelit that appears to have been screwed into the wall for exactly this purpose. Michelle makes a small sound in her throat as, for the second time today, she sees the implement in her punisher's hand and wishes that she hadn't. It's a rattan cane with a black handle, strong enough that it might as well be steel. As Janet swishes it fiercely through the air, it //hisses// like a viper. And it strikes like one too, which the widow is all-too-happy to demonstrate. //FFFWAT// "Gahaaa!" Michelle wails as the cane catches her bottom //hard// across both flanks. //FFFFWAT!// It curves in the air and, asit strikes her bottom, bends across her with reverberating follow through. It takes her breath away. //FWAT!// Just three swings in, Michelle feels her throat burning, tears stinging in her eyes. She's panting like she just ran a marathon, and the red stripes are rising into welts. But worst of all...(set:$soreness=$soreness+1) //FFFFWAAT!// "Aaaaaieeeeaow!" ...she //really//... //FFFWAAT!// "Waaahaa! Omigod! //Omigod!// Aahahaaaaa!" ...has to //pee!// //FFWAT!// Another stinging lick from the cane rips across her bottom, sending her spinning on her tether like a punching bag. Her skirts are bunched around her breasts now, and the widow takes them in a fist. She unclasps the buttons and lets the entire outfit drop to the floor, leaving Michelle completely naked, swaying gently, with hot red slashes across her milky white thighs and butt. //FFWAT!// "A-aaaoowww!" //FFWAT!// "M-mistress!" //FFFFWAT!// "Mistress, //please!//" She can't stand it anymore. The searing heat in her backside and the twisting of her insides is too much, and she squeals: "P-please! C-can my punishment be over?! I-I really have to pee!" She crosses her legs and makes what she hopes is a pitiful expression... But Janet Winters doesn't even look at her. "Just five more strokes," she says cooly as Michelle whimpers in pain. "You can hold it that long, can't you?" Michelle is honestly not so sure. She glances back at the cane, then up at her own wriggling feet. She closes her eyes...and she makes a choice. [[Don't hold it|PEEING]] [[Continue|WIDOW 2]]

The widow swishes the cane through the air, then turns her attention to Michelle. Sweat (if:$peed is 1)[and pee are](else:)[is] dripping from her forhead, plopping on the carpet. Michelle is turning slowly, almost as though her naked body and spanked bottom were on display. Janet Winters grips the cane, flexing it in her hands...and Michelle catches a glimpse of a smirk. //FFWACK!// "Gaaaaahaaaa!" //FFWACK!!// "Oooooowwwwwwwwwaha! It //hurts!//" //FFFFWATT!// "Waaaah!" Michelle wails with all her might, er bottom throbbing and her loins practically begging for release. All the while, her arousal has been rising steadily. Now, as she sways in the still air, her eyes roll back in her head. She pictures herself as she is at this moment: helpless, upside down, pale body exposed, raw bottom caned... //FFFWWAT!// "GAAAH!" Her eyes surge open as the cane meets her bottom, flattening a line of her rump before the ripple passes through her fleshy bottom and thighs, a welt rising immediately on the soft and tender skin. And at that moment, her legs clench. Her buttocks tense tight enough to hold a six-pence between them. Her back arches and her toes point, making small circles at the ceiling. She's cumming, and to hide it would be impossible. She moans softly at first, then gasps -- //FFWAT!// (set:$soreness=$soreness+1) The release is sweeter than she ever could have dreamed. She shrieks with pain and pleasure until her throat is sore, then numb. Her eyes roll again, and her lips part -- she's an entirely different kind of lightheaded now. Her ears fill with a rush of ocean sound and everything goes white... When it's over, she's panting, chest heaving. Janet Winters is rolling her sleeves back to their former length. She goes to the closet and returns the cane before going to the eyelit and letting Michelle's rope down slowly, until Michelle is lying naked on the floor with her (print:$bottom) bottom in the air.(if:$peeing is 1)[ "Governess Troi will have to clean you up," she snarls. "Naughty girl, you made a mess."](else:)[ Janet Winters steps behind her, as cold as her namesake, and turns with her hands behind her back. "That's enough for tonight. You'll take your bath, then it's straight to bed."] As if on cue, the doors open behind her and issue forth the governess, holding a fresh towel in one arm and a nightgown in the other. "Come now, Michelle," the Governess snaps. "You can sleep when we tuck you in, not on the floor. Come!" Still sniffling and blinking back tears, Michelle does. [[Continue|EXPLORE (DAY 1)]]

{(if:$soreness is 0)[(set:$bottom="pale")] (if:$soreness is 1)[(set:$bottom="bright pink")] (if:$soreness is 2)[(set:$bottom="rosey-red")] (if:$soreness is 3)[(set:$bottom="scarlet")] (if:$soreness is 4)[(set:$bottom="hot and welted")] (if:$soreness is 5)[(set:$bottom="dark crimson")] (if:$soreness is 6)[(set:$bottom="marked and bruised")] (if:$soreness is 7)[(set:$bottom="throbbing purple")] (if:$soreness is 8)[(set:$bottom="unimaginably sore")] (if:$soreness is 9)[(set:$bottom="un//bear//ably sore")] (if:$soreness >= 10)[(set:$bottom="searingly hot and bruised")] }(if:$diaper is "on")[(if:$diaper_timer>=5)[(replace:?exit)[Just then, Michelle feels something shift just below her tummy, and her eyes widen. //Oh...oh no,// she thinks. //Oh no, oh no, oh no...// There's a //clk// sound as the door to her room opens, and Sarah Dane enters with a calm looking smile. "S-sarah!" Michelle exclaims, forgetting her manners in her panic. "I have to...I have to g-..." Sarah tilts her head confused, and Michelle stands. She crosses her legs, feeling her stomach gurgle gently, then insistently. It came on her so suddenly, she hadn't realized that she would have to go this badly... "I have to go to the --" Her face twists, blushing more darkly than she's ever blushed before. Her ears are on fire as she helplessly closes her eyes and her stomach lurches, a slow, leaking fart escaping her clenched cheeks, and then... Sarah Dane's face changes slowly -- not to shock or surprise or even outrage, but to an expression Michelle can't quite read, certainly not when she's about to //die// from humiliation as she is now. She raises her eyebrows and lifts her chin. "Ah, I see. Good thing I'm here," she says. "Time for a change..." [[Continue|SPANKED DURING DIAPER CHANGE]]]]]

Governess Troi sits at the edge of the bathtub with effortless poise. She takes Michelle by her wrist and guides her easily over her lap, her soft wet body damperning the thick fabric of the Governess's dress. Feeling impossibly naked and incredibly small, Michelle takes hold of the tub as directed, and the Governess positions her lower half on her lap. She gasps as the Governess's fingers knead into her (print:$bottom) buttocks. Once she has Michelle at the angle she wants, the Governess raises her skirts so she can cross her own leg with Michelle's naked one, pinning her in place. "Your bottom has already had quite a day," the Governess says, admiring the hot flesh of Michelle's backside, the redness covering her sit-spots, deepening at the meeting of her thighs. "So there's no need for a warm-up." She unbuttons rolls up the sleeves of her blouse while Michelle trembles, staring at the bottom of the empty bathtub and feeling the blood rush into her face. Then she hears a sound that makes her eyes widen and her hands slip: the sound of a wooden bathbrush scraping against the floor as the Governess picks it up. "A firm hand is never enough on its own," Governess Troi says. "Although the wetness will make the sting worse -- //that's// a blessing. One last lesson, then it's time for bed. Let's not disturb the lady by making //too// much of a fuss." Michelle can hear a faint, bemused smile in Troi's voice. She lifts one bare foot, clenching her bottom together. Her legs are starting to tremble. The Governess lifts the brush, and Michelle closes her eyes. //FFFWOCK!//(set:$soreness=$soreness+1) An unbelievable, searing pain jolts through Michelle as the bath brush connects, flattening her sore bottom and bringing all new meaning to the word //sting//. She isn't sure if she screams (she does) or if, at that moment, she begins to cry (she does), but she knows for sure in that moment that something inside of her has come alive: she //wants// this spanking, more than she can ever express. And god, how good it feels to know that the Governess is going to //give// it to her! [[Continue|BATH BRUSH 2]]

Each time the bath brush lands with a heavy //splat// against her bottom or her thighs, and air raid siren sounds in Michelle's head, a throbbing pain that rises as the new marks form, crescents of dark crimson that, in the morning, will be black and blue. She can barely hear her own cries over the wailing in her mind, but she knows they're deafening because they echo in the small wash-room, nearly drowning out the Governess's sharp reminders to "Hold still!" and "Stop squirming!" //FWOCK! THWOCK! FWACK!// The sound reminds Michelle of the raquetball court in the //U.S.S. Capital's// recreation center. Although she writhes and braces between spanks, she never manages to make the Governess miss the perfect sweet spot at the center of the bouncing globes, the round and well-punished cheeks of her rear end. There's never a glancing blow, never a swat that doesn't make full, flat, flaying contact with Michelle's rear end. If she wasn't about to pass out from the pain, she'd have to be impressed. "Oaaaaaahaaaa///iiiieeeeee!//" Michelle's wail is a contiguous sound, broken only by sobs as her bottom is worked over with hard swat after hard swat, never a pause to even fully catch her breath. By the twentieth-or-so spank, she's starting to feel lightheaded, both from the blistering pain and from being out of breath. Her backside is absolute //agony//... ...and she is loving //every moment// of it. Her toes curl as another orgasm ripples through her, intensified by the roaring fire in her bancing buttocks, making her eyes cross and drawing a slow groan from her lips as salty tears trace down her face. When, at last, the Governess is satisfied, Michelle can hardly stand without her legs buckling beneath her. She glimpses her bottom in the full-length mirror: like a blood-red full moon, its glow lights the darkness of the room. The Governess smirks as Michelle hobbles to the door. "Here," the Governess says, brandishing a white nightgown at her. "Put on your nightie dearie, no walking around in the nude. Imagine if there were a bombing tonight, heaven forbid! Do you want to be running around London in the nude for everyone to see your shame?" As Michelle pulls the nightie over her head, she sniffles, blushing as she imagines the scene: everyone staring, not at the bi-planes overhead, but at the Japanese girl with a flaming-red bottom, padding naked through the cobblestone streets! Everyone in London would know she'd been spanked, and not just once either... //Although,// Michelle thinks as the Governess leads her back to her bedroom, //considering how loud my last spanking was, I'll bet my neighbors know it already...//(set:$soreness=$soreness+1) And as the door is closed behind her, a shadow of a shy smile plays across Michelle's tear-stained face. [[Continue|STORY 10]]

Even through tears, a nervous smile -- and sometimes, even, a giggle of merriment -- escapes the side of her mouth as the Governess takes her to her room. The program is //perfect.// Absolutely //flawless.// Her bottom is more sore than it's ever been, and it's barely breakfast. She disguises a grin as a worried look each time the Governess glances down at her. Breakfast, it seems, has been forgone. Apparently, instead of breakfast, Michelle will be treated to an hour of cornertime while the Governess reads in a comfortable chair by the door. Michelle interlocks her fingers, her hands on the back of her head, biting her lip. She doesn't need to look down to know how wet she is -- she's practically dripping onto the kneeler. At last, cornertime over, Michelle is told to get dressed. Privacy, apparently, is //also// forgone, because the Governess stands beside her the entire time, handing her articles of clothing. The clothing is another matter. Everything in her wardrobe appears to have been made with a much younger girl in mind: her dress is light-pink with a knee-length skirt and a frilly bow on the chest. It fits perfectly, but still, looking at herself in the mirror afterward she can't help but think that she looks somehow //smaller//... Especially when the Governess comes behind her and tells her, in a sharp, no-nonsense tone, that it's time for tea. [[Continue|STORY 7]]

The spanking continues in this way until Michelle can feel bruises forming on her hot red bottom each time the spoon's round head lands. She's crying out with every swat by the end, even when the pacing is so quick that she can hardly get a breath between howls. Guinan spanks her thoroughly, covering her entire backside and the upper half of her thighs with hard //THWACK//s until, at last, her punishment ends. But the humiliation is only partially through, because next Michelle is forced to kneel on a rice-covered stool in the corner with her skirts lifted so her bright red bottom shows as the older women sip tea and discuss everything from pudding recipes to spanking techniques. Michelle can still hear her blood pounding in her ears, even an hour after her spanking is finished... And she can still see Guinan's face. Her smirk. The flash in her eyes as she brought her hand down... "Come along, it's almost supper time," the Governess says finally. "Wash your face and change your clothes, you've got potato peels on this one. Your chamber maid will help you get yourself presentable. Then be back in the dining room in one hour -- do //not// be late! Or else we may need Miss Guinan to offer more //correction//." The women smirk at each other over their tea. Michelle rubs her bottom, still hot beneath her cool panties and skirt. //Oh, I won't,// she thinks. //Trust me...I've had all the 'correction' I can handle for now...// [[Continue|EXPLORE (DAY 1)]]

The woman in the doorway is dressed in purple fineries -- she appears even more elegant than the widow herself. She wears a dark rain-cloak and a hat with a large white feather. She looks at Michelle through her broad nose with a faint wisp of a smile curling on her cheek. The woman has a smooth, dark complexion, which would be surprising enough on its own: it's obvious the woman is a wealthy dowager, and there weren't many wealthy dowagers who were black in London in the early 20th century. But what's much more surprising is that Michelle //knows this woman//, and not because she invented her in the holodeck. She knows Miss Guinan because... //That's Guinan!// The Governess doesn't seem to notice that Michelle's jaw is on the floor (or at least she interprets her shock as something else). She places the linens carefully on the counter and says to Guinan: "Lady Guinan, do you happen to recall how many plums your manservant brought for the pudding this evening?" Guinan looks at Michelle, her expression unreadable. It's her -- no mistaking it! The same Guinan who boarded the //U.S.S. Capital// with Captain Picard. The same Guinan she saw entertaining the higher ups of the vessel with sparkling wit and specialty cocktails. //But that's impossible...// Michelle thinks. The insides of her palms are sweating. //Ship Counselor Troi must have programmed a hologram of Guinan into the holodeck as some kind of joke -- but why wouldn't she TELL me?!// There isn't much time to wonder, because Guinan begins to speak. [[Continue|SPANKED FOR TAKING SWEETS]]

(unless:$show_header is 0)[**DAY (print:$day) BOTTOM: {(if:$soreness is 0)[unspanked] (else-if:$soreness is 1)[(color:#ff6978)[(print:$bottom)]] (else-if:$soreness is 2)[(color:#ff5263)[(print:$bottom)]] (else-if:$soreness is 3)[(color:#ff2e42)[(print:$bottom)]] (else-if:$soreness is 4)[(color:#fc1c31)[(print:$bottom)]] (else-if:$soreness is 5)[(color:#de1023)[(print:$bottom)]] (else-if:$soreness is 6)[(color:#c20415)[(print:$bottom)]] (else-if:$soreness is 7)[(color:#80093d)[(print:$bottom)]] (else-if:$soreness >= 8)[(color:#a1006b)[(print:$bottom)]] }(if:$diaper is "on")[ DIAPERED]** ]

//I think I've had enough for today,// Michelle thinks, standing to rub her bottom with both hands. //The holodeck will be here tomorrow.//(set:$realization=1) So Michelle gets up, smooths her nightgown, and says the end program sequence in a clear voice: "Holodeck, terminate program 0928." The curtains ripple softly in the breeze. Somewhere out on the street, a mother calls out sharply to a child who has strayed too far from the pram. But nothing happens. Michelle looks to and fro. "Uh...Holodeck?" she says. "Terminate program 0928, please!" The light from the keroscene lamp flickers, and Michelle turns to it like a cat ready to pounce. But again, nothing happens. No pixelation. No code recognition. The environment remains as real as ever. Michelle looks down at herself and pats her thighs as though checking her pockets. She's solid. Completely so. Every bit as real as real life. And she isn't going anywhere. "Oh, //shit//," Michelle whispers softly. She turns around quickly, rubs her eyes, blinks and shakes her head. "Terminate program 0928!" she cries. "Terminate program! Terminate program! //Terminate program!//" But still, nothing happens. She remains in the hologram. //Oh, god. There must be something wrong with the computer relays on the ship,// she thinks.(set:$realization=2) When did she tell Troi -- the //real// Troi -- to enter the program? She can't even remember. But she tries to stay calm, tapping into her cadet training to regulate her breathing. Assess your surroundings. Consider options objectively. //Do not panic.// //Okay,// she thinks. //I'm trapped in the holodeck for now...but it's a program I designed myself! Nothing in here is going to hurt me...well, more than a spanking hurts, at least. So I've just got to keep my head and make the best of things...like I really AM in this world...// After giving herself a pep talk, she feels somewhat calmer. //This world is REAL for me, now,// she thinks wryly to herself. //And isn't that exactly what I wanted?// The first day of her new life in London is over...what tomorrow brings is anyone's guess! [[Continue|ENDING OF DAY 1]]

//Tall evergreens swaying on a prehistoric planet, a wilderness silent and roaring at once. A distant static noise: a waterfall, thundering. She looks down at herself, is unsurprised by her nakedness. Her long black hair tickles her bare shoulderblades, and the forest air is cool, sweet. She crouches, her hand slipping against the bark of a tree, feels the sweek release, so sweet her molars ache. She groans -- --// ==><== ----- <== Michelle blinks awake suddenly, slats of light through the curtains striking her face. //That dream//...She moans, turning over in her warm bed. //It felt so real...// Then it dawns on her, and she nearly curses aloud. //Holodeck dreams.// Sleeping in a holodeck program has certain affects on the mind that are still not fulling understood. One of the effects is extremely vivid dreams, and sometimes even sleepwalking. Michelle takes a moment to appreciate her good fortune: at least she didn't go sleepwalking around in the widow's house wearing only her nightie. The consequences for that would be... She winces. //Speaking of which...// She reaches back her lilywhite hand and cups her still-sore bottom. She stands stiffly, muttering softly to herself as she hobbles to the full-length mirror -- "Ow, ow, ow, owie, ow," -- and turns. [Look at bottom]<look|(click-replace:?look)[She lifts the skirt of her nightgown to see the damage of the previous day's spankings. The night's rest has recovered her somewhat...but not by much. Her backside is still swollen and warm to the touch.(if:$soreness<5)[ The darkest red hues have faded to rosey pink, and she's able to press her sit spots gently, watching the flesh spring back, pale where her fingers were until the blush returns.](if:$soreness>=5)[ Her bottom glows a seared scarlet with bluish, bruised crescents in places all along her sit-spots. She tries to stroke her behind and squeals, recoiling -- the pain is incredible!] She sighs, knowing that today will be even worse when she's inevitably spanked on her still-sore bottom... She lets her nightgown's skirt fall and smooths the fabric down -- very, //very// carefully. She turns, walking back to the bed, trying to reconstruct what her dream had been in her memory... And then she stops. She covers her mouth. Michelle feels her stomach drop into her bottom, and her heart does a flip in her chest. What she's looking at...//No...it CAN'T be...// At that moment, there's a faint rap on the door, and his visitor doesn't wait for a response before bursting in. It's Sarah Dane, the chambermaid. She comes in with fresh clothes in a bundle in her arms. "Well, good morning, Michelle! Didn't know you'd be up! Though, to be fair, I don't rightly know how you //slept// with your bottom so...Oh, my." She stops too, noticing the same thing at the same time. Confirming for Michelle that she isn't still in a holodeck dream, and that what she is, indeed, //actually// looking at is //actually// real. Her bedsheets are at the foot of the mattress, and there's a bright yellow stain at the center, half-hidden beneath the duvet. Cadet Michelle Yen has wet the bed.] [[Continue|SPANKED FOR BEDWETTING]]

Michelle bathes quickly, washing the evidence of her humiliating accident away with tender touches. Her bottom is fully enflamed, too sore for any sort of heat. She looks at herself in the mirror, sees her tear-stained face and mussed hair...and she can't help choke out another thick laugh. Once she's bathed, she dries off and gets changed, leaving the bathwater for Sarah to tend to, as she'd asked. //I don't want to leave Janet Winters waiting for a moment longer than I have to...// She quickly descends the stairs and joins the breakfast table. ==><== ---- <== The dining hall is silent but for the soft //clacking// of silverware. Guinan eats in smug silence, her eyes flitting between Michelle and Janet Winters’, who takes long sips of her tea and looks forlornly out the window. If the widow minds having a guest and her own adopted daughter in the room at all, she doesn’t show it. She is somehow //purposefully// alone. Michelle finds herself trying to move silently, so as not to dsturb the icey ritual. She takes small bites of her crumpet and pours her syrup like a child might pull a handfull of honey from a beehive. She makes no unnecessary moves... ...except for one, which she can’t help. She hasn’t had coffee in two holodeck mornings – and who knows how much time that is in real life? She reaches for the pot silently, lips pursed -- “Is that a beverage for a young lady where you are from, Michelle?” The voice cuts the air like a knife, making Michelle audibly wince. She brings her hands back to her lap. “N-no, ma’am.” The widow raises her eyebrows. “Then //why// were you going to have some?” “...I-I was only curious, madam. I-I’m sorry.” Michelle’s eyes stay glued to the floor. She finds herself focusing on the pattern of the carpet, the weaving decorative asps, if only to release her – just for a moment – from the awkwardness. Janet Winters lifts her tea to her lips, covering a wry frown with the rim of her cup. A few moments later she stands abruptly. “Miss Guinan, I apologize, I must take care of some household business – but we’ll meet for tea?” “Oh, yes, of course!” Guinan says. The smug smile hasn’t left her lips since their breakfast began. Now she glances over at Michelle, her dark, alien eyes twinkling a sort of twilight black. As soon as Janet Winters leaves, Guinan stands, smoothing her dress down in front of her, and comes to where Michelle is sitting at the end of the table. Michelle can hardly contain her fright and surprise. She shrugs up her shoulders as though she were expecting Guinan to box her ears -- //Although, the REAL Guinan would never do such a thing, and always DID seem to like me...// Guinan doesn’t box her ears, but she does pull something from the inside of her cloak and drop it surreptitiously in Michelle’s lap. “You can thank me later,” Guinan says with a crooked grin. “Th-thank you, miss!” Michelle blurts out stupidly before even looking at what’s in her lap. But Guinan pays no attention. She turns, skirts waving, and quickly walks away. Michelle glances back at the item in her lap, and her eyes go wide. She covers her mouth with both hands, clutching the parcel between her knees. It’s a small, silicone tube – clearly out of place in the holodeck’s recreation of the 1940s. She recognizes it immediately as a soothing lotion used for abrasions and soreness down in the medbay of the ship. She’s used it many times after her sessions with Ship Councelor Troi. //But how could the hologram version of Guinan have one of these in a holodeck recreation?!// Michelle thinks, mouth agape. //That would have had to have been programmed in, and I know for a fact I didn’t do it! Which would mean that Ship Councelor Troi did it without asking...unless...// “Michelle!” Her thoughts are interrupted by Governess Troi calling her sharply, and she nearly fumbles the tube as she slips it into her skirts. She stands hastily, and just in time. The Governess crosses the threshold like a hurricane, her back ramrod straight and her eyes alight. “What do you think you’re doing, young lady? Your mistress has excused herself, as has our house’s guest! Don’t just //sit// there like you’re made of margerine, you stupid girl! Run along and play -- don’t give me an excuse to take your knickers down, or you won’t be having them back up without a peeled ginger!” Michelle bolts upright. //P-play?// she wonders...but she doesn’t stick around to ask. The Governess shoos her out of the dining hall and into the entrance way, still reeling from the encounter with Guinan. //Guess I’ll go outside. I designed this world, after all – might as well see it!// She pushes through the front door and onto the street. [[Go outside|EXPLORE (DAY 2)]]

(if:$explore2 is 0)[The air is cold enough that Michelle draws the scratchy pea-coat tighter around her. Unfortunately, the bright pink lining and buttons do very little to lesson the childishness of her appearance. As people pass her, they smile and wave like you would at a baby being pushed in a pram -- she tries to ignore it, but it makes her cheeks flush even more than the cold air. Some people eye her suspiciously: she may be a kid, but she's still //one of them//. She puts down her head. But she can't help but look around, gaping, as she turns the corner into the bustle of the city. She steps down into the street, following behind mothers with their children in tow, well dressed gentlemen looking at the world through their nostrils, and all sorts of characters selling and buying and carrying on. The world is unbelievably realistic -- every detail is perfectly rendered, from the sound of her feet on the cobblestones to the soot on the vagabond's faces. She notices there aren't many cars on the road -- the streets are narrow, and the constant waves of pedestrians would make any driver annoyed, even in 1940. Most people are on foot, but there are a couple of horse and buggy riders -- like one, which clatters along behind her now, the driver yelling at her: "Out of the way, poppet!" She jumps to the side as the horse trots past, surprisingly quick. //I always pictured them moving slower!// But this one hastens along the cobblestones like a Rolls-Royce. She just barely manages to get over the lip of the curb in time for the horse to trundle past her. She turns around... //FWOOSH!// The carriage wheel hits a dark and muddle puddle, sending a spray of filthy water all over her! Some of the passerbys laugh, while others awe sympathetically. A kind older woman stops and turns. "Oh, what a mess, dearie!" she says. "You had better go home and change, you'll catch a frightful cough dripping about like that...where does your mother live?" Michelle's eyes go wide. She can still see the Winters' mansion from where she's standing...And she can only imagine what the widow will say when she sees what's become of her coat...(set:$explore2=1) She swallows hard, already reaching back to her (print:$bottom) bottom. The older woman, as though reading her mind, tuts softly. "Worried about a spanking, are you, dearie?" she says. "Well, you'd best have thought of that //before// you went toddling about in the streets! Come now, let's get you home..." [[Go back home|SPANKED FOR DIRTY CLOTHES]]]{ }(else-if:$explore2 is 1)[Michelle is still sniffling quietly to herself in the corner when she hears the door creak open behind her. "You can turn around now, love, I've brought you fresh clothes." It's Sarah Danes' voice. Michelle turns slowly...and immediately her jaw drops. The dress that Sarah has brought is even //more// juvenile than the one that got soaked. It's white with frills at the hem and puffed shoulders. Michelle's blush darkens -- //That skirt will barely cover my ass!// "Th-that's for me?" Michelle says reflexively. Sarah Danes scowls. "Well, //yes//, of course its for you!" She glances down at it, then smirks. "And yes, the lady knew she was adopting a young lady." She grins. "But I suppose she prefers the younger styles. Don't fret, now. It's pretty -- and it's in your size!" "But it looks..." "Listen, now," Sarah says, her face darkening. She jabs her finger at Michelle. "Are you going to put your dress on, or am I going to have to take you over my lap again?"(set:$explore2=2) [[Get dressed]<dress| [[Complain|SPANKED FOR COMPLAINING]]]<choose|(click:?dress)[(replace:?choose)[Michelle sighs deeply, but knows better than to complain. She takes the frilly dress from Sarah's hand and pads over to the mirror to change. The legholes pinch, and, as she'd feared, the skirt only barely covers her well-spanked bum. But other than that, the dress is (embarassingly) a perfect fit. At almost the exact moment Michelle has finished getting dressed, she hears her name called from the study. She casts one last forlorn glance at her reflection, her shoulders lilting as she fingers play with the lacey hem of the dress. It's Sarah Dane's voice that snaps her from reverie. "Best be off to your tutoring, young lady," she says softly. "The Governess has no patience for being late." Michelle swallows hard. //Right, then.// She hastens to the study for her day's lessons. [[Go to lessons|STORY 13]]]]]{ }(else-if:$explore2 is 2)[Michelle pads barefoot through the house. The floorboards are cold, and she prefers to walk on the rugs. Finally she comes to a corridor where she feels some warmth. She follows it into the parlor and finds Guinan, sitting with her back towards her, her legs stretched out towards the fireplace. Guinan is sipping from a Tom Collins glass: her drink is an amber color with a dark-purple cherry beneath the ice. The hearth is lit, and the fire dances. At that moment, watching Guinan look at the fire, a strange thought occurs to Michelle. More than a strange thought -- a //ridiculous// thought. An outright //insane// thought. Her brain wants to make her move her feet, to walk past Guinan before she notices her darkening the doorway. But something //else// -- something //lower//...has frozen her in place. //Am I really going to do this,// Michelle thinks. She nearly whimpers to herself, imagining the explosive pain in her bottom and flinching as the fire pops, sending out a rush of sparks. //Am I really...REALLY going to do this?...//(set:$explore2=3) [[Ask Guinan for a spanking|ASK FOR A SPANKING FROM GUINAN]] [[Continue|STORY 15]]]

"Well, now," the chambermaid says, aghast. She places one hand on her hip, the other balancing the clothes against her front. "I'd have thought you too old to be wetting the bed anymore, Miss Michelle." "I-I don't know what happened..." The shame: that all Michelle is feeling, beating against her ribcage, reverberating in her head. Burning in her face. Her throat stings, and when she blinks, a tear she didn't know was there streams down her face. She quickly brushes it away with the back of her hand. "I-I didn't mean to..." "Nobody //means// to wet the bed, Miss Michelle," Sarah says in a soft voice. Michelle looks up at her. Sarah Dane's eyes are understanding...but her mouth is set firm. "It comes from a lack of //discipline,// is what it is." "I-But, I-" Sarah Dane shakes her head, setting folded clothes aside. She tuts softly and pulls a chair against the wall towards the center of the open space. As she sits, she talks softly -- murmering, more to herself than to Michelle: "Such a naughty girl. And I just washed those sheets yesterday!" She looks up at Michelle expectantly. Michelle looks down at the petit woman, her blonde hair pulled back in a tight braid, her outfit immaculately clean. Sarah Dane isn't actually much older than Michelle -- just three, maybe four years -- but in this moment, she might as well be her mother. Sarah pats her lap expectantly once more. "I'll not be left waiting, child." When Michelle's eyes widen, the chambermaid considers for the first time that the naughty girl before her had actually //not known// what would happen next. "Over my knee for a spanking, then, Miss Michelle. Can't be having accidents every other night, can we, now? Over my lap -- and take that filthy nightgown off!!" [[[Refuse|BEDWETTING (W/GOVERNESS)]] [Be a good girl]<good|]<action|(click:?good)[(replace:?action)[Sarah Dane gives a stern nod of approval as Michelle bows her head and obediently removes her nightgown, pulling it over her head and setting it on the floor. She slides her soiled panties down her long, thin legs, wincing at their damp cling. Completely naked, she climbs over the chambermaid's knee. "Good," Sarah says. //Is she...smirking?// Michelle could swear she hears a wry smile in the chambermaid's voice as she repositions Michelle's bottom. "My, my -- someone had a hard day yesterday, hm?" She presses gently against Michelle's (print:$bottom) behind, and Michelle squeaks. "A good hand-spanking will do nicely -- old-fashioned, that." She pulls up her sleeves, and Michelle braces, clenching her buttocks together and dipping her head nearly to the floor... //FWAP!// "Owwwwwww!" The pain is //immense//. Michelle bites her lip, her smarting backside still wobbling as the chambermaid lines up another spank. //SLAP!// "Gaha! Omigosh, M-Miss Dane --" Michelle gasps. //FWAP! FWAP!// Her heinie sings with agony, her ears ringing. Her smooth thighs tingle from the excitement of being punished -- //FWAP!// -- and when she kicks, she can feel her wet she is, how the smooth lips of her sex glide against eachother like silk. //FWAP! FWAP! SLAP! PHLAP!//(set:$soreness=$soreness+1) "Owwwwww///ieeeeeeeee!//" Michelle clenches her eyes shut, her knuckles whitening as she tightens her fists. Her sore bottom bounces beneath hard, unforgiving swats; she feels tears beginning to rise, a burning in her throat, a bleariness in her vision...//FWAP! PHLAP! FWAP! FWAP!// As she begins to sob, Sarah Dane notes with satisfaction: "Seems to be getting through to you, then. Hm?" //FWAP!// "Aaaieee! Y-Yes, ma'am!" "Then what do we say?" //FWAP! FWOP!// "Aaaaahaaaaa! I'm s-s-sorry I w-wet the bed!" //FWAP! PHLAP!// "Oh, I'm sure you are. And what do you say to //me// for taking //precious time// out of my morning to //teach you a lesson?//" //FWAP! FWAP! FWAP!// Michelle's ears are roaring. Her breath comes in hiccuping gasps, her tears splashing on the hardwood floor, stringing drool when she cries out: "GGGGAAAAAAAAAAAA! TH-THANK YOU! Thankyouformyspanking!" "Anytime, my dear. Anytime..." [[Continue|STORY 12]]]]

"I-n-no!" Michelle exclaims, pulling suddenly away from the chambermaid. "I...don't want a spanking! I-I'm too old for that, anyway!" She rubs her wrist as though she'd just freed it from a manacle. "I-It was just an //accident// -- why do I have to be punished?!" Sarah Dane's face clouds. Her brow furrows, and she opens her mouth to speak. But before she can even finish a word, a voice from the hallway interrupts her. "What's this I hear?" Governess Troi enters the room, skirts swishing. She takes one look at Michelle, another look at Sarah Dane, and a final look at the soiled bedspread. She places her hands on her hips. She looks at Michelle with fire in her eyes, holding out her hand open to Sarah. "Sarah, bring me the cane. Miss Michelle wants her punishment the hard way, then I'll be the one to give it to her." She cuts another look at Sarah as the chambermaid stands. "Two canes, please. Rattan and nursery." She returns her furious gaze to Michelle. Looking at her is like trying to hold back a lava flow: the heat becomes too intense, and even with your best efforts, you've done //nothing// to stop what's coming. Michelle opens her mouth to protest...but no words come out. Governess Troi speaks in her place, pointing violently to a wooden chair at the corner of the room as Sarah places two canes in her other palm. "Bring that chair to the center of the room, take off that //filthy// nightgown, and assume the position. I'll teach //you// who's too old." She says this last bit through gritted teeth as she swings the larger cane, testing its flexibility, it's awesome strenth. This time, Michelle says nothing. She //can't// -- her voice is completely gone. However bratty she was just moments ago, the Governess has put her completely and totally in her place: she is a naughty girl who wet the bed, and now it's time for her thrashing. She no longer questions or whines or even whimpers: she only obeys. ==><== ----- <== ###//THWOCK!// Every stroke is like a thunderclap. The rattan cane //cracks// against the undercurve of her bottom, lifting and parting her buttocks with terrible grace and ease. She screams -- the pain is //searing//, and her bottom is //raw// from too many strokes for her to count. Her already sore bottom is now a blistering, scarlet red, hot and bright enough to light a room, to dry out a pan full of oil with a //sizzle//, even as her sex becomes dewey, like a rain-coated window, then dripping wet like a hungry mouth. Over her gasping and her hiccuping sobs, she manages to hear the swing of the cane and braces with a small cry. ###//FWOCK!// "AAAAAAAAIIIIIIIEEEEEHAHAAAA! WAAAAAH!" Completely out of control, Michelle cedes to her primal self. Her eyes are swimming in tears that stream down her cheeks. Her backside is a mess of pain. She has a mental image of the inside of a thunderstorm, lightning flashing and leaping between points. Her knees are shaking violently. "I'M SORRY! I'M S-SO, SO SORRY!" she wails. She doesn't hear the cane pull back. Sniffling, vision blurred, bottom surging with heat, she lifts her head. Could it possibly be over? //But I'm so close...// The thought crosses her mind like a phantom: there and gone. She needn't have worried. "Hold her bottom open, like so," the Governess instructs Sarah Dane. Sarah complies, and Michelle squeals as she feels a pressure on her right butt cheek. The chambermaid spreads her bottom, revealing her tight arsehole to the draughty room. Michelle's bottom lip wobbles. She moans softly Even after everything, having her buttocks spread apart like this makes a rush of blood go to her face. But the embarrassment is nothing compared to what happens next. With the thin nursery cane (and impeccable aim), Governess Troi gives Michelle ten stinging //whaps// against the tender flesh between her butt cheeks. By the end, her face is red not just with the humiliation, but with the effort of not shrieking a curse at the top of her lungs each time the cane strikes. Sarah Dane has to hold her in place with a firm hand against her back, just to keep her down on the chair. (set:$soreness=$soreness+2) It happens in an instant this time -- //Always different somehow//. One moment, every muscle is tense with pain. The next, she is in another dimension, her body coiling and uncoiling like a spring, cumming massively, her brain blank...and then, every muscle in her body is slack. And her spanking is over. "See to it she's cleaned up and presentable for breakfast," the Governess says sharply, wiping her cane with a piece of cloth. "We still have a guest present." Sarah Dane nods, her hand still on Michelle's back as Michelle struggles to regain her breath. Now the Governess tilts her head, speaking to Michelle in a stern, raised voice. "You //will// learn to behave, little girl. You will learn the rules of this house, and you //will// obey them. And if you do not, you will be spanked. Do I make myself clear?" Michelle cannot manage the words. She nods weakly. "M-ma'am." "You'll thank Miss Dane for your spanking this morning, even though I administered most of it," the Governess adds nonchalantly as she leaves. "And if I ever hear you tell Miss Dane you're too old for a spanking again, well..." She looks to the chambermaid, lips tight. "Well, let's just not have that happen." Michelle and the chambermaid both nod. "Yes, Ma'am," they say in unison. The Governess takes one more moment to survey the room, eyes lingering on the work she'd done on the canvas of Michelle's behind. Her lip twitches in a grin as she sees the (print:$bottom) bottom. Then she turns and is gone, leaving Sarah and Michelle alone. [[Continue|BEDWETTING AFTERMATH]]

At last, Sarah takes her hand from Michelle's back. Trembling, she rises to her feet, and the chambermaid gives her a gentle hug. Before she can stop herself, the words pour out of her, her jaw still quivering as though she'd just been let in from the cold: "Th-thank you, Miss Dane." "You're welcome, dear, you naughty girl." //The smirk. She is DEFINITELY smirking!// In the comfort of Sarah's hug, tight against her bosom, Michelle smirks too. "But don't wet the bed again, you hear? I've enough laundry to do as it is!" Sarah says, exasperated. Michelle chokes out a wet sound: part sob, part laugh. "Very well. Your clothes are here, but you'll need to wash yourself off first." she says, pointing to the fresh pile she came in with. Michelle wrinkles her nose: the clothes are simple, neat, and clean, but pastel-colored and juvenile -- better suited for a little child. //How'd they even get my size?!// She frowns, cursing Counselor Troi in her mind for her sense of humor. "I'll wash these sheets -- you scamper on off to a bath, you hear?" Sarah Dane says. "Then go quickly to breakfast -- the lady and her guest are waiting!" [[Continue|STORY 12]]

The moment she enters the house and passes the ladies in the sitting room having tea, Michelle knows //exactly// what's coming. She moves quickly, ignoring the gasps and the clatter of teacups into saucers. She even ignores the Governess's exclamation of "Why I //never//!" -- she doesn't have time to apologize. Not that it would help. Between dirtying her dress //and// tracking that dirt in the house, Michelle has never been more sure that a spanking is in her future.(set:$location=1) So she goes to her room, pulls the soothing lotion from on of the pockets, and quickly hides the bottle beneath her mattress. Just in time. The Governess is at the door an instant later, fuming from the ears. Janet and Guinan are behind her, looking at Michelle's filthiness with a mixture of horror and amazement...and also, perhaps, some interest as to what will happen next. The Governess doesn't keep them in suspense. "Take those filthy clothes of //this instant//," she utters in a low voice, "and march your naked bottom into the sitting room." She turns to the ladies. "Pardon me, ladies, but this naughty girl needs a caning that the entire neighborhood can see and hear. I'll have the maids put away tea, we can resume later." "No, no," Lady Guinan says calmly. "It's no trouble at all. We'll enjoy our tea as we watch. Won't we, Janet?" The widow comes as close to a smile as Michelle has seen so far. "Yes, Lady Guinan. Yes, we certainly will." ==><== ---- <== The governess is not prone to exaggeration, and she was not exaggerating when she claimed that this would be a caning the entire neighborhood could see and hear. Michelle is at the center of the room, bent over a stiff-backed chair, completely nude, her glowing red bottom facing an open window looking out upon the street. She grips the chair legs as instructed and tries, unsuccessfully, not to cry. ###//FWOCK!// "Gggaaaaaaaaaa//aahaaa//!" The scream //rips// from Michelle's throat as the cane lands, perfectly catching the undercurve of her bottom, reconfirming a welt, soon-to-be-a-bruise. The ladies sip their tea amiably on a sofa against the wall as Michelle broadcasts her own spanking to the entirity of London. Her legs are jelly, and tears are streaming down her cheeks as she struggles to maintain her composure... ###//THWOCK!// "OhhhhhhIIIIIIEEEEEEAHAHAAAA!" Michelle kicks up both legs and nearly falls forward, her blistered bottom at the apex of her figure, her head on the seat of the chair, knuckles white. Guinan says something to Janet and she laughs mildly. Her governess rolls up her sleeve. And Michelle, between sobs, feels a brightness inside of her, a cleanness, she has never achieved before. There is something about having been truly, //soundly// punished that, when she does cum, makes the mind-breaking orgasm all that much easier to enjoy... ==><== ---- <== //Enjoy.// Michelle can't help but wonder if the ladies //did// enjoy their tea during her thrashing. When her caning was over, snivelling and quivering, she was led back to her bedroom and instructed to wait until the chambermaid arrived with fresh clothes. She catches a glimpse of her naked self in the mirror -- upon seeing her (print:$bottom) bottom, her eyes actually //widen//.(set:$soreness=$soreness+1) "Wait here," the Governess says. "The chambermaid will be in with clean clothes soon. In the meantime, don't you even //think// a dirty thought." //Too late for that.// The Governess steps away from the door, leaving it open... And Michelle's eyes immediately go to the mattress. She didn't have much time -- maybe no time at all! But if she moves quickly, she could use that soothing cream now. [[Use the lotion|USE THE LOTION]] [[Continue|EXPLORE (DAY 2)]]

"No," Michelle says simply, stamping her foot. She crosses her arms and shakes her nose. "I'm not going to wear that. It's just not happening." Sarah Dane's jaw opens -- only for a moment. An instant of confusion, shock, maybe even some dismay. Less than a moment, really. When Sarah Dane sets her jaw and the muscle in her temple bulges, Michelle swears she can //feel// the air in the room shift. She swallows hard. It comes as no surprise to her when the chambermaid grabs her by the elbow, pulls her over her knee, and clenches her leg between her thighs, preventing escape. Before she can even utter a word of protest, she feels herself being tucked beneath Sarah's arm like a parcel. The instant that Sarah's palm claps down against her tender flesh is a burst of color and pain, followed by a multitude of swats to the same jiggling cheek, the //pop// sounds of the hand on her naked bottom drowned out by the voice shouting in her mind: //You IDIOT! You couldn't at least have let yourself get DRESSED before ANOTHER spanking?!??// The (print:$bottom) flesh of her bottom burns as Sarah turns her attention to the other hemisphere of her backside with another volley of hard //slap//s. //FWAP! WHAP! FWAP! FWAP!// "Mmmph! Owwwah! Lemme //go//!" The smacks continue to ring out, and the sting builds in her bottom. Soon, she's panting and grunting, trying (unsuccessfully) to wriggle away as Sarah delivers hard, open-handed //smacks//. The spanking brings color to both sets of cheeks, and each time Sarah hits the welts from her previous spanking, Michelle's voice jumps up an octave. //PHLWAP! FWHAP! THWAP! FWAP! FWAP!// "Oowwwieee -- OUCH! Ahaaaha!" She scissors her feet frantically, feeling her ass bounce beneath Sarah's focused wrath. The chambermaid spanks one cheek until Michelle feels as though she were fit to burst, then switches to warm the other from swollen and stinging to a blistering inferno. Michelle bites hard on her lip, clenching her eyes shut. Finally, she gasps, then begins to stammer: "M-Miss Dane -- OW! -- M-Miss, I'm //sorry!// I'm //sorrryyyyyyeeeeeeee!//" Her voice rises into a howl as the //splats// continue. Finally, they stop. "Well, now," Sarah says calmly, inspecting Michelle's (print:$bottom) behind with obvious satisfaction. "I should think you've learned your lesson by now. What do //you// think?"(set:$soreness=$soreness+1) [["Yes. Thank you, ma'am."]<done| ["Could I have some more spanks, please?"]<ask|]<choice|{ }(click:?ask)[(replace:?choice)["C-could I have some m-more spanks, please?" The words come off of Michelle's lips before she has a chance to bite them down. Sarah Dane's eyebrows leap. "I-" Michelle's face burns. "I-I mean...I think I deserve m-more...I'll learn my...//lesson// better."(set:$soreness=$soreness+1) Sarah Dane looks down blankly for a moment. Then an enormous grin cuts across her face. "Happy to oblige," she says, still smirking. "But my hand is starting to smart...Ah! This brush will do!" //THWACK!// From the first bum-flattening //smack//, Michelle can feel her loins throbbing. She grunts, biting her lip and bowing her head as though she were a champion rower, or perhaps as though she were in prayer. Her backside explodes to furious life again, stinging and smarting and aching and //hurting// in all of the wonderful ways a spanking //should//, until Michelle's grunts turn to moans turn to //shrieks// punctuated by the //CLAP! CLAP! CLAP!// of the wooden brush, like a steady applause for her as she cums, then cums again, grinding herself against Sarah's thigh, pressing her face into Sarah's side, gripping the leg of Sarah's chair as she cums and begins to cry helplessly, the pain and the heat in her rear end so astoundingly brilliant at this point that it's all she can do not to melt. "Right then, my naughty girl," Sarah says in a soft, teasing voice. "Lesson learned?" "Y-yes. Th-thank you, m-a'am." The words come out shakier than Michelle had thought them in her mind. She crosses one ankle over the other, reveling in the soft, shimmering burn in her warmed bottom. By this point, the pain goes //deep.// She sniffles, wincing to herself as she imagines even //trying// to sit. Sarah gives a satisfied nod. "Very good, then. Let's get that dress on you." Michelle sighs deeply, but knows better than to complain. She takes the frilly dress from Sarah's hand and pads over to the mirror to change. The legholes pinch, and, as she'd feared, the skirt only barely covers her well-spanked bum. But other than that, the dress is (embarassingly) a perfect fit. At almost the exact moment Michelle has finished getting dressed, she hears her name called from the study. She casts one last forlorn glance at her reflection, her shoulders lilting as she fingers play with the lacey hem of the dress. It's Sarah Dane's voice that snaps her from reverie. "Best be off to your tutoring, young lady," she says softly. "The Governess has no patience for being late." Michelle swallows hard. //Right, then.// She hastens to the study for her day's lessons. [[Go to lessons|STORY 13]]]]{ }(click:?done)[(replace:?choice)["Y-yes. Th-thank you, m-a'am." The words come out shakier than Michelle had thought them in her mind. She crosses one ankle over the other, reveling in the soft, shimmering burn in her warmed bottom. By this point, the pain goes //deep.// She sniffles, wincing to herself as she imagines even //trying// to sit. Sarah gives a satisfied nod. "Very good, then. Let's get that dress on you." Michelle sighs deeply, but knows better than to complain. She takes the frilly dress from Sarah's hand and pads over to the mirror to change. The legholes pinch, and, as she'd feared, the skirt only barely covers her well-spanked bum. But other than that, the dress is (embarassingly) a perfect fit. At almost the exact moment Michelle has finished getting dressed, she hears her name called from the study. She casts one last forlorn glance at her reflection, her shoulders lilting as she fingers play with the lacey hem of the dress. It's Sarah Dane's voice that snaps her from reverie. "Best be off to your tutoring, young lady," she says softly. "The Governess has no patience for being late." Michelle swallows hard. //Right, then.// She hastens to the study for her day's lessons. [[Go to lessons|STORY 13]]]]

Her lessons completed for the day, Michelle is allowed to return to her room. She does, mainly because she's tired of being in trouble in just about every other room! She scowls and rubs her backside beneath her frilly outfit. //This is ridiculous! So many rules in this house -- how can a girl NOT break them?// She goes to the mirror, and her face softens: for just an instant, the girl she sees in her reflection is the brat that everyone in this house has been telling her about. She bites her bottom lip, undresses, glances at her (print:$bottom) rear end in the mirror, pulls a nightgown over her naked body, and then trudges over to the bed. She collapses on her belly, groaning. That moan was built up so long she hadn't realize it had been in her. Caned, paddled, spanked -- what's a brat to do? A smirk flickers across her face, then dies like a smothered spark when she reaches back and touches her stinging rump. "Ow!" she says aloud. There isn't much she can do right now other than rest...although, there //is// some part of her that wants to go explore the house. She suddenly remembers the lotion Guinan gave her this morning -- it's still in her dirtied dress! //But should I use it right now?// What should Michelle do?(set:$location=2) [[Use the lotion|USE THE LOTION]] (if:$soreness<10)[[[Go exploring|EXPLORE (DAY 2)]] ](else:)[[[Rest|STORY 15]]]

When Michelle arrives, the Governess is standing behind a table with a pencil in one hand and the other pressed firmly to the table. As Michelle sits, she pushes a worn booklet in front of Michelle, opened to a middle page. There's a picture of a Roman centurion above a selection of questions. "Right then," Governess Troi says sharply, setting the pencil down before her with a //snap//. "No more dallying. Today we'll see what you remember about the readings from last week with a brief examination. Pass your exam, and it'll be off to dinner with us. Fail...and we'll review." As she sits back, Troi arches her eyebrow to put a finer point on the implication... As though the drilled paddle on the desk before her didn't do that well enough! Michelle swallows hard again, then glances at the exam. //Do I remember Roman history? God that was MILLENIA ago! Then again, it would have been millenia ago for this time period too, so...// She purses her lips. The exam is mostly multiple choice. Thankfully, she remembers most of the answers from her own history classes -- incredible that the Romans are still being taught! There are just five questions that give her serious pause: 1. According to tradition, when was Rome founded? [[A) 57 B.C.]<wrong1| [B) A.D. 476]<wrong2| [C) 753 B.C.]<right1|]<1|{ (click:?wrong1)[(replace:?1)[Michelle chooses A.]] (click:?wrong2)[(replace:?1)[Michelle chooses B.]] (click:?right1)[(replace:?1)[Michelle chooses C.(set:$right_answer=$right_answer+1)]] } 2. Who founded Rome? [[A) Romulus and Remus]<right2| [B) Horatius]<wrong3| [C) Spartacus]<wrong4|]<2|{ (click:?wrong3)[(replace:?2)[Michelle chooses B.]] (click:?wrong4)[(replace:?2)[Michelle chooses C.]] (click:?right2)[(replace:?2)[Michelle chooses A.(set:$right_answer=$right_answer+1)]] } 3. Which of the following invaded the Roman Empire? [[A) Gauls]<wrong5| [B) Thracian]<wrong6| [C) Visigoths]<right3|]<3|{ (click:?wrong5)[(replace:?3)[Michelle chooses A.]] (click:?wrong6)[(replace:?3)[Michelle chooses B.]] (click:?right3)[(replace:?3)[Michelle chooses C.(set:$right_answer=$right_answer+1)]] } 4. What did Britain export to the rest of the Roman Empire? [[A) Salted fish]<wrong7| [B) Metals]<right4| [C) Wine]<wrong8|]<4|{ (click:?wrong7)[(replace:?4)[Michelle chooses A.]] (click:?wrong8)[(replace:?4)[Michelle chooses C.]] (click:?right4)[(replace:?4)[Michelle chooses B.(set:$right_answer=$right_answer+1)]] } 5. Under which emperor did Christianity become the main religion of the Roman Empire? [[A) Nero]<wrong9| [B) Diocletian]<wrong10| [C) Constantine]<right5|]<5|{ (click:?wrong9)[(replace:?5)[Michelle chooses A.]] (click:?wrong10)[(replace:?5)[Michelle chooses B.]] (click:?right5)[(replace:?5)[Michelle chooses C.(set:$right_answer=$right_answer+1)]]} Michelle glances up from her paper. The Governess is reading silently, glasses at the end of her nose. There is a space of the desk cleared for Michelle's completed examination when she's ready to turn it in. [[Be graded|SPANKED FOR INCORRECT ANSWERS 1]]

Governess Troi lifts her head up as Michelle silently pushes the examination towards her. "Finished already?" she says. There's neither praise nor displeasure in her voice. She sighs. "Alright. Into the corner with you while I grade this. Michelle opens her mouth and manages, at the last second, to supress her own stupid question: //Right now?// But of course she's getting graded on the spot. How else will the Governess know her punishment? She goes to the space along the wall that the Governess gestures to and stands with her hands folded, head bowed. She chews her lip, double-guessing her answers...(unless:$right_answer is 5)[ The Governess licks one finger and flips through page after page, marking as she goes. But she isn't marking the paper itself: she's marking a separate slip on her desk. She's tallying Michelle's punishment. She seems to sense Michelle's eyes on the paper, and so she explains wryly. "Five swats for every mistake, Michelle. You ought to know this by now." "Y-yes, ma'am." A few more moments pass in heavy silence. Governess Troi nods, nods, nods...then adds to the tally. Michelle swallows hard. She closes her eyes. She finds herself saying a silent prayer. "(print:5-$right_answer) missed. That means (print:5*(5-$right_answer))." Michell could swear that a smirk flickers across Counselor Troi -- //I mean,// Governess Troi's stoic face. But it's gone as quickly as it comes. "Assume the position, girl -- hands flat on the desk, feet apart, and no back-talk!" She takes the paddle from the desk. "I think that //I// will do the honors of baring your bottom."(set:$incorrect_punishment=5*(5-$right_answer)) //Oh, gods...// [[Continue|SPANKED FOR INCORRECT ANSWERS 2]]](else:)[ After a few moments, Troi closes the booklet and doffs her glasses. She stands abruptly, and Michelle starts. "Well, you seem to absorbed the content of the last lesson. We're ready, then, to move on to a new civilization." The edges of her mouth twinge, and she adds: "Perhaps I need to make the next examination more //rigorous.// And with that, she leaves, taking the drilled oak paddle with her. Michelle heaves a sigh of relief as the door closes. //I don't know how many swats I could have taken with that thing!// Just the thought of it makes her wince softly and rub her (print:$bottom) bottom. //In the clear...for now.// [[Continue|STORY 14]]]

By the ambient light of the fireplace, Guinan's face has an alluring warmth. Her eyes, half-lidded in a droll amusement as always, shine with the aloof wisdom of a near-immortal alien being -- a detail Michelle would have thought would //not// be captured in her Hologram version. //Unless...// "Yes?" she says suddenly -- and a little impatiently. With a start, Michelle realizes that she had spoken. In the perfect stillness, she had forgotten, as Guinan watched her expectantly. Now Michelle looks down at her folded hands, lilting like an orchid beneath Guinan's stare. The alien woman's eyebrow arches. "What is it, child?" "I...at breakfast," Michelle says. "At breakfast -- you g-gave me, uh, the..." She gives up. She bites her lower lip, tucks a strand of raven-black hair behind her ear, and wipes her sweating palms on the seat of her nightie. "...Forgot to say thank you," she finally blurts out. Guinan's face lightes in the new understanding. Her lips part. "You want a punishmnet," she says. There is no question in her voice, no rising intonation. Michelle feels her breath seize, her body freezing over. She imagines, in this moment, a fuel cannister set adrift in the vacuum of space: many times, she has watched idly through the lower port windows as the ship releases various flotsam, watched the ice break across its surface, a sudden evaporation and condensation of the spent fluids inside. It tumbles off into the blackness, iced over, still. She feels as though she were outside of her own body, watching this happen to herself. Even the fire can't warm the chill of terror that freezes over her at Guinan's words. Terror...and something else. [[Continue|SPANKING FROM GUINAN]]

A glance out the window tells her it's late in the evening. The street is dark, and the lamplights are out. There's no more bustle and hum, only the forlorn sound of drunkards calling out nonsense and other people up to no good. Michelle frowns and places her hands on the windowsill, peering out. //Lady Winters didn't cane me tonight,// she thinks. //Like she did yesterday. Maybe that only happens once per week...// She grimaces. //Or every other day.// She reaches back and feels her bottom. It's (print:$bottom). She sighs. //I'll be sleeping on my tummy again tonight...// And even as she thinks it, there's a fluttering in her stomach. Not quite anxious, like the feeling she has when she's //about// to be spanked. Not quiet satisfied, like the feeling she gets when her bottom has been thoroughly worked over, her lesson thoroughly learned. No, this is a //new// feeling, an in-between feeling...She's had it ever since she realized the program wasn't working properly and she was stuck in the holodeck until Councelor Troi comes to check on her, whenever that will be. It's somewhere in between dread and lust, and it makes her whole body //throb//. It's the feeling of looking forward to tomorrow. Another day in the Holodeck over. Another day yet to come... [[Continue|ENDING OF DAY 2]]

Michelle peels off her clothes and lies in bed. She's too sore to wear her nightgown: even the soft kiss of the fabric against her backside makes her wince. She turns over, throws the sheets of her (print:$bottom) behind. She rubs herself tenderly. She's more exhausted than she realized, and from practically the second her (if:$crying is 1)[tearstained ]face hit the pillow she begins to fall asleep. All of a sudden, her dream from the night before starts to come to her in stitches. //A forest full of towering evergreens. The sound of a distant waterfall.// There's something she wants to remember about this dream -- something about the //waking// from it that's escaping her, even as her mind fumbles for it like a hand in a drawer. //A rising mist, white noise. Something building inside of her, cresting...// Before she can remember, she drifts away into a dream. [[Continue|STORY 16]](set:$day=3)

(if:$lotion is 0)[Michelle goes to the bed and lifts the mattress. She breathes a sigh of relief when she finds the lotion there -- a part of her had been expecting that the chambermaid would have searched her room for it. Or that it had all been a strange hallucination...after all, she //still// can't figure out how a medbay soothing lotion go into her simulation. //It just doesn't make sense...// She pauses a moment, then shrugs. //But you know what: I'm not complaining!// She checks that her door is closed, pulls her panties down to her ankles, and opens the tube. She squeezes a quarter sized dollop into her palm and reaches beneath her skirt with it, clapping it gently against her (print:$bottom) bottom. The cold makes her breath catch in her throat -- but the relief is better than any orgasm she could even //imagining// having. She gasps, eyelids fluttering, her fingers exploring the creases of her behind and finding the hot flesh. She squirts a second dollop for her other cheek, moaning softly as the soothing lotion does its work. //A true miracle of modern science,// she thinks, giggling to herself. //I guess there are SOME things we've improved...//(set:$soreness=$soreness-1)(set:$lotion="half") Already, some of the sting has left her bottom, and when she looks at herself in the mirror, it seems less red than before. The slick lotion makes the light reflect off her fanny, and she amuses herself by posing at different angles. Finally, she sighs and puts the lotion away, deciding it's time to go. (if:$location is 1)[[[Continue|EXPLORE (DAY 2)]]](else-if:$location is 2)[(if:$soreness<10)[[[Go exploring|EXPLORE (DAY 2)]] ](else:)[[[Rest|STORY 15]]]]](else:)[Michelle take out the bottle of lotion and finds that it's mercifully still half full. She drops her panties, squirts some out into her palm, and clasps her hand to her (print:$bottom) bottom. She shudders as the soothing lotion takes affect: a sharp, cooling sensation like chewing mint gum spreads across her heinie, taking her breath away. She squirts another dollop into her palm for the other cheek, rubbing it all along her thigh. She can feel the soreness disappating, and the rouge lightens to pink...(set:$soreness=$soreness-1) She almost laughs aloud at the relief. She lets her skirt fall and goes to take another squirt -- and suddenly stops laughing. The bottle is completely empty. She squeezes with all her might, and only manages a mocking //phbbbt// sound. She sighs again, capping the tube. //Well, that's all she wrote. Suppose I'm on my own now,// she thinks glumly. She rubs her shiney bottom, glancing at her lower half in the full length mirror. It's better than before: by no means fully healed. Her (print:$bottom) bottom has all the soothing it's going to get. //I'll just be good so I don't get any more spankings...// This time her laugh is sharp, like a hiccup. She covers her mouth and worriedly looks at her feet. (set:$lotion="empty") (if:$soreness<10)[[[Go exploring|EXPLORE (DAY 2)]] ](else:)[[[Rest|STORY 15]]]]

Michelle arches her back, her feet at shoulder-width, lifting her heinie for the drilled paddle. Already, there's a heat rising off her backside from prior spankings, and even the Governess seems impressed by the sight of her (print:$bottom) bottom. Impressed, maybe. But not merciful. (if:$incorrect_punishment > 0)[//THWACK! THWOP! THWOP! THWOP! THWACK!// Five hard spanks have Michelle squirming over the desk. Her breath becomes tight and strained: each time she exhales, she makes a loose strand of black hair flutter on her forehead. She manages to stay mostly silent, even though the throbbing in her bottom is a //symphony// of pain.(set:$soreness=$soreness+1) ]{ }(if:$incorrect_punishment > 5)[//FWOP! FWOP! THWOP! THWACK! THWACK!// "Ooooa//ha//!" Michelle wails as the last spank of the set lands, a brutal, ass-flattening stroke that she can feel in even inch of her backside, the swollen flesh tight and hot. Her resolve is starting to give way. ]{ }(if:$incorrect_punishment > 10)[//THWOCK! THWOCK! THWOCK! THWOCK! THWACK!// "Aaaaa//haaaaaawwaaaooooww//!" Michelle kicks up her foot helplessly, her beacon-red bottom shimmering the air with head. Her breath is coming come her in gasps. 15 spanks with a drilled paddle...//I'm going to fucking DIE!//(set:$soreness=$soreness+1) ]{ }(if:$incorrect_punishment > 15)[//FWOCK!// "OOOWW!" //FWACK!// "GGAAAAH!" //THWACK!// "WAAAAAAH!" //THWACK!// "OH GOD!" //FWOCK!// "AAAAEEEEIIIIII!" Michelle puts down her head and hits a note that would shatter glass -- she's honestly surprised the paddle isn't splintering from the force her Governess has put behind it. Every swat is //agony//. She clenches her eyes shut, and hot tears stream down her cheeks. ]{ }(if:$incorrect_punishment > 20)[The final five strokes are a blur in Michelle's mind. She enters a fully new frame of mind, a place of comfort and happiness, even as her mouth drools and her blubbering reaches complete incoherence. She's pretty sure that, somewhere in there, she's begging for //more// spanks. All she knows for sure is that she has never cum quite that hard in her entire life. And when it's over, her bottom could quite literally fry an egg.(set:$soreness=$soreness+1)] "Lesson over," the Governess says sharply...but not unkindly. "You took them well, Michelle," she says, smiling a little. "Go to the corner, now." The minutes of her cornertime pass slowly, but Michelle is glad for the time to reflect. It occurs to her in her meditation that she hasn't tried to leave the holodeck despite //several// spankings on an already sore bottom. //Maybe,// Michelle begins to think, //maybe I don't WANT to leave...// Her lip curls in a smile, even as she gives a wet hiccup and the Governess tells her sharply to adjust her stance. "Chest out, girl, bottom out! No slouching, come on now, keep your hands at the top of your head." Michelle grins at the blank wall before her and sniffles loudly, her face shiny with tears. //No. Maybe I DON'T want to leave at all.// [[Continue|STORY 14]]

Guinan's lips part further in a knowing grin. She nods placatingly, as though to tell her that it's alright to accept the ensuing events, like she were confidently gliding into a secured area, past the guardposts of Michelle's inhibitions. And Michelle lets her through. "Take off that nightgown, child," she says simply. "It will only get in the way. Let's have a look at your bottom. A //real// punishment is on the bare, don't you think?" She tilts her head, looking at Michelle curiously. Michelle purses her lips and nods. She lifts up the nightgown from the hem as it drifts by her feet. She lets it fall by her side, then clasps her hands over her naked body. She isn't even wearing any underwear beneath the nightie -- nakedness feels different in front of Guinan, somehow even more revealing. She feels the fire warming the pale filament hairs that stand up against her goosepimpled skin. She closes her eyes and climbs over Guinan's knees. Guinan takes her and guides her into position on her lap as easily as someone might a kitten. Michelle gasps as she feels Guinan's broad, dark hands against her bare waist, sliding down to her well-spanked haunches. "Mm," Guinan says. She strokes Michelle's (print:$bottom) bottom and Michelle feels a twinge of pain. she winces. "I know," Guinan says. "Your poor bottom. Taken quite a lot today, haven't you..." And here, Michelle can hear a grin in Guinan's voice: "...Cadet Yen?" "Wh-wha...?" //FWACK!// "OWW!" Michelle gasps as a new explosion of pain lights on her backside. Guinan's palm is tough, and she hits hard, and Michelle bottom is already blistered and bruised from two days of nearly //constant// punishment...The pain nearly makes her forget the realization. //Nearly.// "Y-you know me?" Michelle says. She kicks up one foot, but Guinan pins her down easily, administering another hard //slap// against her sore behind that brings a sudden blur of tears to her vision. "GAAHAA! I-it hurts! Wh-why do you know my name?" "For the same reason you know mine," Guinan says. simply. //FWAP!// "Aaiiiiiie//eeeee//!" Michelle kicks madly. The sting in her bottom is enough to make her ears ring, and Guinan's swats are //ruthless//. Even still, she finds herself arching her back, a naked, writhing pleasure doll, desperate for more. The pain is astounding. The longing is epic. "We've worked together," Guinan continues, "on the Starship //Capital//. I noticed you. I saw your...//evenings// with the Ship Counselor. I spoke to Troi. She told me about the holodeck program." Just then, Guinan caps off her sentence with two hard spanks, one to each buttock, and Michelle's eyes widen as rods of pain shoot through her, making her body straighten, stiff as a board. Her mind reels. //She knew? All the visits...all of my secret spankings...she knew the entire time?// Another //FWAP!// and Michelle lets loose the cry that had been caught in her throat: "Aaaahaa!" Her eyes are wide, like they're going to pop from her pretty face. Her mouth is a long, oblong //O// until she clenches her teeth. The whole time, the galaxy-famous Guinan knew she was going to the Ship Counselors to have her bottom spanked...to be caned and paddled and made to stand in the corner, all the while taking immense satisfaction, every orgasm like a relief of tension, every swat like an itch to an impossible scratch -- //FWAP!// "Oh god!" "I heard all about the strange and wonderful world you'd built for yourself. I heard all about your plan to enter it. And when I heard you were ready to take the tour, well..." //THWAP!// "Ooooo//ooo//aaaAHAHA!" "Well, I figured I just had to tag along. I didn't know we'd be staying so long. I'm sure there's some glitch in the computer relays -- technology is a fickle mistress." Guinan's smile glints by the firelight. She takes Michelle by both thighs and adjusts her position over her lap, one leg between Michelle's thighs so that she's straddling her like a rocking horse. She delivers a round of hard swats that make Michelle scream, her blistered bottom searing and her bruises aching and her insides quivering, then she strokes Michelle's buttocks from the small of her back to her tender undercurves. And then she leans forward to whisper in Michelle's ear. "//But I'm not.// And I'm //glad// you're trapped in here, you bad bad girl." //FWAP!// This time, Michelle's cry is a moan. She's getting close. "You're finally getting what you //deserve.//" And with that, she launches into a final round of spanks that have Michelle seeing stars, even as she summits the mountain of her orgasm and starts to shudder and convulse. Her backside dances and sings with pain as Guinan lets out a low chuckle, bringing her heavy hand down //hard// with swat after swat. Michelle clenches her eyes shut tight, her thighs tightly gripping Guinan's knee as she cums, the sweet relief singing in perfect harmony with the fierce, blasting spanks and the surges of violet pain. At last, Michelle is spent, her naked body quavering gently, her small breasts heaving. She rolls off Guinan, who bends forward and gives her a soft, delicate kiss on the nose. "I think it's your bedtime, child," Guinan says in her soothing voice. "There will be more games to play tomorrow." Hardly believing her eyes -- or the sensation in her throbbing behind -- Michelle swallows hard and nods. She stretches her neck to give Guinan a kiss on the cheek goodnight, which Guinan accepts with a motherly laugh before raising her glass to Michelle one last time and turning back to the fire. All the while as she dresses, all Michelle can think -- all she can //hear//, over and over, in that same purring tone Guinan used -- is about Guinan saying the words:(set:$soreness=$soreness+1) //I noticed you.// Through her tears, she smirks. //Yes, Lady Guinan.// she thinks, mounting the steps. //You certainly did...// [[Continue|STORY 15]]

This game includes adult content and should not be played by anyone under the age of 18. If you are under the age of 18, or if you are uncomfortable with written descriptions of spankings or AB/DL content, please close out of this game. All scenarios are fictional, all sexual content is consensual, and all characters depicted are 18+ years of age. If you are an adult and would like to see fetish content, enjoy the game! [[BEGIN|MW Opening]]

==><== #ONE WEEK IN THE HOLODECK by Waferborn Based on a Milford Weeks Commission [[Begin|STORY 1]] [Start from DAY 5]<day5|(click-replace:?day5)[(set:$show_header=1)(set:$day=5)(set:$soreness=2)(set:$bottom="rosey-red")(set:$enema=1) [[Wake up on the fifth day|STORY 26]]]

//Soft spray in the air, the thunder of cascading water. The smell of fir trees, the soft crush of forest detritus underfoot: leaves and evergreen needles carpeting the damp ground. Michelle has been here before. In her mind, she somehow knows she is on another planet, a planet without civilization, in a sort of precambrian stage of its evolution. She steps forward, standing on tiptoes in her bare feet. Her legs are naked, as white as driven snow. Before her, a line of trees diverges into a clearing, and through the clearing she sees it: the waterfall. Misty water drift over her in curtains as she approaches it. The sight of it takes her breath away and sends shivers through her. The mossy onyx cliff glistens wetly on either side of the rushing white spray. She cannot tilt her head high enough to see where the water begins; it is a pure white column of water, somehow explosive in its movement and awfully still at the same time. It meets the blue waters of the cove beneath it with a mighty, churning foam, but the waters farther out from the falls are calm, peaceful, and dark. She sees her face in them like one might see her face mirrored by a computer moniter while the screen is turned off. Her stomach quavers when she thinks of how deep these waters may be. Prompted by something deep in the recesses of her mind, she looks up. At the middle of the cove, just a few meters from where the falls end, she sees a woman. The woman is naked, just as Michelle is. She is facing away, and Michelle can't see her face. The curve of her back is pleasing to behold. The woman moves, but not to turn around. Michelle feels as though she is being beckoned. She obeys. She steps into the dark waters and, to her surprise, finds them to be as warm and comfortable as a bath. She sighs and takes another step, submerging herself to her knees, then to her waist. The water is so comfortable and inviting that Michelle closes her eyes, feeling as though she might drift away. She moans with delight. When she opens then, the woman in the water is turning around -- ==><== ----- <== // "-- like this, and the second time this week!" "Mm-hm. Just as I thought. You were right to call me in, Sara." Michelle blinks groggily and sees two pairs of legs at her eye level. She turns, sitting up to find Sara Dane and Governess Troi standing beside her bed, looking down on her. The chambermaid looks as though she's been giggling -- she's biting her finger in an effort to keep a straight face. The Governess, on the other hand, does not look the least bit amused. Instinctively, Michelle pulls the covers up to sheild herself. The bedspread won't move at first, and when it does it comes with resistence. It's heavy, somehow. She looks down, confused, and sees the truth. She's wet the bed a second time. Michelle looks up at the women standing over her and notes, in the Governess's hand, a rattan cane. Her arms are folded over her breasts, while Sarah Dane is chewing her fingernail a bit nervously, the faint trace of a //schradenfrude// grin at the edge of her lips. "Out of bed, young lady," the Governess says, "and take off that filthy nightgown. You've been a very bad girl indeed." [[Continue|SPANKED FOR BEDWETTING (2ND TIME)]]

Michelle feels as though her face is going to catch ablaze as she walks into the dining room with her diaper crinkling softly beneath her dress. She sits, biting her lip hard and doing her best not to make eye contact with the only other person at the table. //Guinan//. Or Lady Guinan -- only Michelle knows they're one and the same. She's watching Michelle with considerable amusement as Michelle takes her seat, the soft padding of her diaper making a telling and humiliating sound beneath her as she shifts from sore cheek to cheek. "Long morning so far?" Guinan says over the rim of her cup. She takes a sip of her milky, caramel-colored tea just as her face breaks into a smirk. Michelle's face is burning too hotly to even answer. Her ears feel like someone has set the tips of them on fire like a candle wick. She tries (and fails) to shake off the embarrassment of this morning's spanking (and...//other// events) before finally deciding the only way to get her mind off it is to have some breakfast. She isn't feeling hungry enough for the large, fluffy pancakes, but she could really use something to drink. //Maybe I can have coffee, now that Miss Winters isn't here to tell me no...// [[Coffee]<coffee| [Milk]<milk| [Nothing]<nothing|]<choose|{ }(click:?coffee)[(replace:?choose)[(set:$diaper_timer=$diaper_timer+3)//I'll put up with a lot of things...but no coffee is too much!// Michelle thinks as she pours a steaming mug of coffee for herself before treating it with two large spoonfuls of sugar. Michelle takes a bite of pancakes and washes it down with coffee, savoring its sweetness. Lady Guinan watches quietly but says nothing as Michelle drains the cup down to the grounds, a faint smile playing at her lips. Michelle mumbles a "Good morning," then excuses herself. She's worried, for a split-second, that Guinan is about to call to Janet, alerting her of Michelle's trespass with the coffee to make sure Michelle gets //another// good spanking right at the breakfast table. But Guinan says nothing, and when she is out of the dining room, Michelle sighs her relief. [[Continue|EXPLORE (DAY 3)]]]]{ }(click:?milk)[(replace:?choose)[(set:$diaper_timer=$diaper_timer+1)//Better to have milk than coffee,// Michelle thinks. She pours herself a glass of milk and drinks hungrily, wiping milk from her upper lip and pushing away from the table. //Besides,// Michelle thinks, feeling queasy, //Coffee makes me have to go to the bathroom and I'm...// She grimaces. //Not about to actually...USE th-this...// Michelle mumbles a belated "Good morning" to Guinan (who continues to watch her silently) then excuses herself. She's worried, for a split-second, that Guinan is about to call to Janet, alerting her of Michelle's trespass with the coffee to make sure Michelle gets //another// good spanking right at the breakfast table. But Guinan says nothing, and when she is out of the dining room, Michelle sighs her relief. [[Continue|EXPLORE (DAY 3)]]]]{ }(click:?nothing)[(replace:?choose)[//On second thought, I'm not thirsty,// you think. //Or hungry, really.// She pushes the plate away. Guinan speaks softly, startling her. "Not having breakfast?" she says. "N-No, Lady Guinana," Michelle stammers. "I...I'm not hungry." Guinan nods slowly, lifting her tea to her mouth. "Probably for the best." She grins, leering over the rim of her mug. "Wouldn't want you to make a mess in your diaper..." Michelle freezes, and her hands instinctively go to her bottom. "I-I..." she stutters. Then, her face blazing brightly, she mutters something excusing herself and tears out of the room. //Guinan knows I'm wearing a diaper?// she thinks, her mind racing. //Wh-how...ugh!// She curls her hands into fists, her arms rigid at her sides. //It's no humiliating -- not fair! Everyone in this freaking house...constantly seeing my sore butt and...// A sudden wave of excitement courses through her at the thought of Governess Troi changing her in front of Lady Guinan and Madam Winters. She pushes the thought out of her mind. //Guinan is the ACTUAL Guinan...she could tell other people what she sees in the holodeck! And what would the crew think?// With a pit in her stomach, Michelle leaves the dining room, feeling Guinan's eyes on her all the way... [[Continue|EXPLORE (DAY 3)]]]]

At her lessons, Michelle sniffles softly to herself as Governess Troi watches her settling in to her seat. The Governess is seated behind her desk, looking calm but poised. She watches with raised eyebrows as Michelle's fingers tremble as she opens her lesson book. "Just reading today," the Governess says finally. "And you may read to yourself. Seeing as you've already had several punishments today, we won't try you with any tests." Through tears, Michelle's face brightens in a grateful smile. "Th-thank you, Miss Troi." Governess Troi pauses, then allows herself a broad and genuine smile. "Even a naughty girl deserves a break from spankings sometimes to rest easy -- even if she isn't //sitting// too easy." She laughs easily, and Michelle, despite the pain in her bottom, finds herself laughing along. The two women smile at each other meaningfully. //Maybe Governess Troi isn't all bad,// Michelle wonders as the pretty woman's laughter fades into a peaceful smile. //I wonder if she might even feel bad for me...// [[Stay silent]<silent| [Complain]<complain|]<choose|{ }(click:?silent)[(replace:?choose)[//Better not push my luck,// Michelle thinks. She turns to her book of poems, casting on last shy smile at the Governess before her reading begins. The lesson passes without incident. After about an hour and a half, the Governess gently clear her throat, and Michelle is broken from her trance. "That's enough for today," she says softly. "We'll see how much you remember tomorrow. But now, go play outside, dear." She smiles, and there's something mischevious, even conspiratorial behind her eyes as she adds: "And be good!" [[Continue|STORY 19]]]]{ }(click:?complain)[(replace:?choose)["I really //do// need a break," Michelle says with a sigh. "My butt has basically been on fire since I got here. Mistress Winters spanks me almost every day just for //maintenance// -- not even when I've done something wrong! Like, how is //that// fair?" Suddenly, Governess Troi's face changes. Her brow darkens, and her mouth flattens into a frown. Immediately, Michelle can see she's overplayed her hand. "I-I mean, uh," she back-tracks, "I'm not saying, uh..." "Well," the Governess says, "if it's your opinion that the Mistress has been treating you //unfairly//, then its clear her strict maintenance has not been quite enough to take effect." Her voice is icy as she stands to her full, intimidating height. "I'll be sure to note that a more rigorous program is needed in order for you to learn your //lesson//." "Wh-no! I didn't mean --" The Governess holds up her hand. "It's perfectly clear what you meant, Michelle, and it's perfectly clear what you need. I won't be giving you a spanking -- your bottom has already been spanked twice today, and that //still// has not made an impression! But luckily, I have a better idea." She opens the top drawer of her desk and takes out something small, about the size of a wine cork, and the yellow color of beeswax. Michelle immediately realizes what it is, and her heart sinks. "Nooooo! P-please, Governess Troi, I'll be good -- I won't complain! P-promise!" she pleads. Already, her vision is starting to blur again from tears. The Governess shakes her head firmly and takes Michelle by her shoulder. She positions her so she's leaning over the desk, resting on her elbows, her bottom out and the book open beneath her nose. "You need something that will make a lesson //stick// -- and that's why I had the kitchen set aside some ginger carvings. Just in case exactly //this// should be necesssary!" She wets her finger with her mouth and rubs the tip. "Nooooo//oooooo!//" Michelle whines and shuffles her feet helplessly as her Governess lifts her skirts and yanks down her diaper, which falls heavily around her ankles. She clenches her sore bottom reflexively as Governess Troi takes on (print:$bottom) buttock in hand and spreads it flat to reveal the small, tender pucker between her cheeks and above the aching folds of her sex. Michelle cries out sharply when she feels the scratchy tip of the ginger -- as hard and pliant as birchwood -- pressing against her arsehole. But she knows it's no use to fight back. She clenches both fists and gasps, then squeals as the ginger is worked into her backside. Oh //god// how it burns. Every second of her figging is sheer agony. Each time she tries to clench her bottom or even shift her weight, a fresh flame is unleashed, scorching all around her most tender places and her already stinging heinie. Michelle starts to cry anew, which makes reading more than a little difficult. As the fire rises in her bum, her tears //splatter// onto the page, sometimes blotting the poem. She can't keep a single thought in her head, much less a verse of poetry, with that //thing// in her rear end. But the Governess is merciless, making her finish her entire reading through blinding tears before she finally pulls the ginger out and gives Michelle's bottom a swift pat. "Off you go now," she says, "before I change my mind and decide to spank you. //Ungrateful// girl...go play outside. And for heaven's sake," she cries after Michelle as she's leaving, clutching her bottom, "//be good!//" [[Continue|STORY 19]]]]

The door shuts heavily behind her, and Michelle steps into the sunlight. It's a fine day: the grass is wet from recent rains, but now the sun is breaking through the clouds. The yard is large, surrounded by a gray-blue fence. At the center of the yard is an oak tree with thick, hearty branches, casting shade in her direction. Michelle smooths the back of her dress down and steps off the porch. She isn't sure what to do, except that she //definitely// doesn't want to dirty her dress. The yard is muddy enough that the ground squelches beneath her feet -- what if she just //lay down// in her dress? She'd have mud all up and down her sides in an instant. She's considering the potential consequences for this when she hear's a sharp voice from the other side of the fence. "Hey!" She turns and sees a girl leaning over the fence. She's got carrot-orange hair and about a million freckles across her nose. She's squinting in the sunlight, and Michelle can tell that she's about her age. //Well, her ACTUAL age...// Maybe a year or two younger -- although, in her present state of dress, no one would be able to guess it. The girl grins at her, and there's a sarcasm in that grin that Michelle can //feel//. "You're the new girl, then?" she says. She tilts her head, shading her eyes with her hand. "I-uh, y-yeah." "How old are you?" It seemed like an affrontive question, so she gave an affrontive answer. Michelle put her hands on her hips. "How old do you //think// I am?" The girl looked Michelle up and down with a wry grin, her lips pursed. Then she dropped off the fence and disappeared. A moment later, she was at the gate. She pushed it open and leaned in the archway under the orchids. She wrinkles her nose. "Why are you wearing that?" she says. Michelle blushes, her ears as red as raspberries. She looks down at her feet. "Wh-what do you mean?" The other girl steps forward, looking suddenly emboldened. Her grin is wolfish now, and she tilts her head to the side as she walks towards Michelle. "You're too old for a dress like that," she says. Michelle turns around and goes up the steps to show her annoyance, but the girl only stops in her tracks. Her eyes get wide. "You..." She laughs sharply, then covers her mouth. Michelle looks up at her in horror. "Are you wearing a //diaper//?" "Shut up!" Michelle snaps. It's as though the girl were looking right into her mind, instead of the more likely notion that she was just glimpsing beneath the folds of her dress. "Go away!" "Oh my //goodness!// You //are!//" the girl exclaims. She doubles over in laughter, and Michelle feels her ears throbbing, her pulse pounding in her face. "Go //away!//" "Or what? You'll //wet// yourself?" Before Michelle knows it, she's launched herself at the smug girl, whose giggle hits a fever pitch as Michelle falls onto her, knocking her to the ground. Michelle's face is a bright scarlet as she tries to wrestle the girl to the ground, and her vision is blurred by her humiliated tears. For a moment, all she can hear is the sound of blood rushing to her face and the peals of the girls' laughter... ...and then. "//Michelle!// What in //heaven's name// do you think you're //doing?//" And there is the governess, standing on the porch, hands on her hips, watching the skirts of Michelle's dress flail as she tries to pin the neighbor girl to the muddy ground. "What are you //doing// to that poor girl?" The governess's lips are pursed so tightly they're whitening. "My //goodness//...young lady, you stay //right there// while I get the paddle! You're getting your punishment //now!//" [[Continue|SPANKED FOR BEING LOUD AT PLAY]]

Supper in the main room is after dark. Through the windows, Michelle can see the clear night's blackness. She eats her shepherds pie, salted by tears that run down her cheeks. Her bottom is fully aflame, and not even the cushion of her diaper can ease the pain of sitting. Sniffling and sighing and whimpering and twitching, she finishes her dinner in silence and is excused. "No desert tonight," Janet says, stating a simple fact. "You've been a very naughty girl." The words alone are nearly enough to set her off. Never have her thighs ached with a greater longing than now. She sets down her water after finishing the glass down to the clinking ice, stands with a soft, "Yes, ma'am," and leaves the dinner table, feeling everyone's eyes on her as she goes into the corridor...(set:$diaper_timer=$diaper_timer+2) [[Continue|EXPLORE (DAY 3)]]

(if:$explore3 is 0)[Michelle wanders through the house, her bare feet padding softly on the hardwood floor. There's something comforting in the sound it makes and the coolness of the smooth boards, even more so when she steps onto a thick persian rug and the sound is muted, her footfall soft and warm. For a while, walking around like this takes her mind off the singing pain in her (print:$bottom) rear end... Thinking of nothing in particular (and trying //not// to think of the diaper chaffing between her thighs), she walks into the kitchen on the first floor, where the floor is cold stone. She looks at the counter and sees a cutting board with a thick and twisted root on it, burnt orange in color, looking like the ball of a sapling tree. It's ginger -- she figures it out by the smell more than anything -- and someone has stopped in the middle of peeling it. Where it's been peeled, it's no longer gnarled and lumpy: it's smooth as an ice cube, and white. There's a sinking feeling in Michelle's stomach as she remembers a holodeck she watched (in the course of her own private studying, of course) about ['figging.']<figging|(click:?figging)[ Back when corporal punishment was the norm in households, a particularly devious method was devised for making lessons sink through to particularly naughty ones (namely farmer's wives or older farmhands) called "figging." A ginger root, once peeled, is a powerful spice. It can make your fingers burn and sting if you handle it for too long. A peeled ginger root is about the size of a thumb. So some sadistic mistress or mister came up with the idea to plug a ginger root in a sorry spankee's red bottom in the wake of a spanking. It makes cornertime practically unbearable. The spankee can't clench their buttocks together, or the ginger will burn even more in that tender place. That means they need to keep perfectly still -- which, after you've been caned or paddled to blistering, is no small feat. Besides: there's nothing quite as humiliating as having a white bulb of ginger sticking out of your bum as you think //very hard// about how you're going to start behaving...] She shudders softly, the end of it like a ripple of pleasure. She turns and ducks out of the kitchen just as she hears Miss Winters calling to her from the living room. "Michelle! Come here. And be quick about it!"(set:$diaper_timer=$diaper_timer+1)(set:$explore3=1) [[Continue|MAINTENANCE SPANKING FROM JANET]]]{ }(else-if:$explore3 is 1)[The time between being lowered down to the ground like a bucket down a well and face-planting into her bedspread seems like it's only a second passing in her mind. All she remembers is that she's sobbing and wailing the entire way, her bottom searing with stripes so bright red they'd light up a dim room. The slam of the door behind her and the Governess's stern warning to "//Now be good!//" echo in her mind as, slowly, her breathing steadies and she melts, her body limp.(set:$diaper_timer=$diaper_timer+1)(set:$explore3=2) [[[Continue|STORY 20]]]<exit|]{ }(else-if:$explore3 is 2)[There's nowhere else to go, so poor Michelle goes to her room. She faceplants onto the bed, her (print:$bottom) lifted in the air. She groans, and the groan eases out of her like it's been building up in her throat all day. Which it has. [When she lifts her face, her pillow is smeared with tears and helpless drool. The billowing fire blazing across her haunches smolders. Her diaper crinkles softly, and she clenches her eyes shut, forcing another salty tear to track down her cheek before she drifts into a heavy sleep... ==><== *** <== She wakes up to the sound of a knock at her door. The Governess enters matter-of-factly without waiting for Michelle to respond. She looks at Michelle with her hand on her hip and something in the crook of her arm. In the other hand, she's holding a stiff rattan cane that makes Michelle's lower half go numb and soft as putty. Governess Troi tuts softly to herself as she comes to the side of Michelle's bed and sets the bowl-like object down. "Naughty girl. Your poor bottom must be //frightfully// sore." Michelle only manages a soft whimper Governess Troi pats Michelle's diapered bottom gently. "I've brought something for you," she says. She motions to the bowl-like thing. "Do you know what this is?" Michelle shakes her head. "It's a chamber pot. Ladies would use them in the old days -- you squat over them. A 'squatty potty,' it's sometimes called. As our lady has noted you are not quite, shall we say, //toilet trained//, she doesn't want you using the water closet. Instead, you have your diaper." She stands, folding her arms. "But if you don't //want// to use your diaper, you may use the squatty potty. However," she says, lifting the cane, "there is a //cost// to this privilege. Each time you use the squatty potty, you earn a caning. //While// you go."(set:$diaper_timer=$diaper_timer+1) Michelle swallows hard. "So," Governess Troi says dramatically, straightening her posture. She shifts her weight to her other leg and folds her arms with the cane clutched in her hand. "Do you need to use the potty Michelle?" Michelle glances down at the ceramic chamber pot, then up at the tall, beautiful governess, then back at the floor. //Wh...what should I say?// [[Ask to use the potty|GO TO POTTY]] [[Ask for a spanking|SPANKED WITH A SLIPPER]] [[Ask to be put to bed|ENDING OF DAY 3]]]<exit|]

"I...C-Can I use the p-potty, ma'am?" Governess Troi nods, smiling. She stands and takes up a cane as Michelle pulls the diaper off her long white thighs and steps out of it, her night gown held around her waist. And so, Michelle squats over the potty, bracing and wincing. The sound of her pee hitting the bowl is sharp, a hissing stream, followed by the heavy bellow of a fart echoing around the basin. Michelle's face darkens from rosey pink to deep crimson as the cane comes down: //ffffFFFWACK!// Over and over, the Governess brings the stinging cane down on Michelle's bare buttocks until her legs tremble and she nearly falls in. At first, she manages to keep her lips pursed as the welts rise on her already (print:$bottom) bottom -- but as the stream ends, she starts to wince and cry out, then sob, holding her hand over her mouth. The Governess sets the cane aside and wipes Michelle's sore bottom. She gasps at the soft touch, standing as the Governess takes the potty and puts it by the door. She calls to Sarah Dane to come take it away, and moments later the potty is gone. Michelle stands slowly, letting her nightie fall over her fire-red bottom, striped now with fresh dark lines. She sees the Governess turning around at the door, and her stomach flutters...(set:$diaper_timer=0) [[Ask for a bedtime spanking|SPANKED WITH A SLIPPER]] [[Go to bed|ENDING OF DAY 3]]

//fffffFWACK!// The rattan cane hisses through the air before it lands on Michelle's bare backside, leaving two rising lines each time: one on each cheek. Again and again, it cuts a swinging arch and lands -- //FWACK!// -- bending and springing back off the twin orbs of her buttocks. As her caning progresses, Michelle grips the end of the small writing desk she's bent over and whimpers, then moans, then cries out as the cane strikes her already-sore bottom, now (print:$bottom), making her hindquarters dance and sting. She clenches her jaw against them pain, her eyes shut tight -- each time she opens them, her vision fills with tears. //What a way to wake up!// she thinks bitterly. //ffffffffFWACK!// "Owwwwwaaaahaa//haaaa!//!" The smarting seems to come in waves. Each one makes her loins ache to push against something. Her arousal is filling her body, over-flowing. How can something that hurts //so badly// feel so //good//? "Naughty girl -- how often will we need to teach you this?" Governess Troi says as she brings the cane down a fifteenth time. "Sarah, you take over, my arm is getting sore." She passes the cane to the chambermaid and the pain continues. They switch back at thirty so Sarah Dan can start making the bed, and the caning goes on, whistling and thwacking and crying until -- first thing in the morning -- Michelle is hiccuping and sobbing, her face wet with tears, and her bottom a deep magenta, welted and unbelievably sore...(set:$soreness=$soreness+2) [[Continue|DIAPERED]]

Michelle enters the living room with her arms folded over her lap. The lady of the house is sitting on the sofa with her legs angled towards Guinan, who has her back to Michelle as she enters. They are having a quiet conversation over cups of tea. Michelle stands in the threshold until she's noticed. "There you are," Janet Winters says, standing up. Michelle's stomach drops as she sees that her "mother" is holding a broad, supple leather belt. "Your governess told me about your diaper. I trust you can take it off yourself?" She raises one eyebrow, and Michelle nods quickly. "Take off your dress, then, too, and bend over the chair back as I've showed you." Michelle's heart flutters anxiously. If it were Governess Troi, she might ask what she'd done...but with the widow, she wouldn't dare. //She scares me even more than Troi's cane,// Michelle thinks miserably. As she bares her long pale legs and (print:$bottom) buttocks, she blinks back blurry tears. //Oh, god, I hope I can leave this diaper off...//(set:$diaper="off") Guinan and the widow watch as Michelle, bottom lip quivering, undresses and goes to the hard-backed chair at the center of the room. Completely nude, Michelle bends over the chair and sets her hands flat on the seat. When the widow stands up, a thrill of frisson erupts over her neck and between her thighs. She whimpers softly when she hears the belt buckle softly //clink//. "So," Guinan says conversationally. "You say this spanking is for...//maintenance//?" "Oh, yes," the widow says. "Every Thursday, Michelle takes 15 with the leather belt. It's a reminder, more than anything." She lifts the heavy belt and places her hand on Michelle's lower back. "I call these spankings //maintenance//. If Michelle ever forgot how the belt feels against her naughty little bottom, well, who knows what sort of mischief she'd get up to?" Janet Winters draws her arm back and snaps it forward. //FWACK!// "Ggaah!" The belt lands a stinging blow, doubled over and heavy enough to send Michelle tilting forward, legs quivering. "Isn't that right, Michelle?" Janet says. //FWACK!// "Aaaha! Y-yes, m-mother," Michelle manages. Her backside glows bright with the new stripes. "Mm," Guinan says over her tea cup. "And is this...//all// of Michelle's maintenance?" //FWACK!// Michelle cries out, kicks up her foot. Her vision becomes blurry again with tears. "Oh, heaven's no," Janet replies. "This is only the weekly belting. On Tuesdays, Michelle takes a caning." //FWACK!// "And tomorrow night, she'll have her paddling from her governess." //FWACK!// Michelle wails, shutting her eyes tight against the blazing heat in her bottom. //FWACK! FWACK! FWACK!// "Then on Sundays, after mass, Michelle chooses the implement she would like to start her week with." //FWACK!// "Usually, she picks the slipper. Silly girl." //FWACK!// //FWACK!// //FWACK!// Michelle squeals, then bites her lip, toes curling. Her mistress places a hand on her right buttock, and it feels cool against the fantastic heat in her heinie. She whinces softly as the widow kneads her bottom with strong fingers, exposing the tender flesh between her cheeks, the glistening wetness between her thighs. She moans as the hand is taken away, bracing for another hard spank. "The key to disciplining naughty girls --" //FWACK!// "-- is to never let them forget what their naughtiness brings them." //FWACK!// "Even if that means they don't sit comfortably for //days// at a time. Isn't that right, Michelle?" Being talked about like she isn't there has almost pushed Michelle to the edge of climax. Her breath comes in gasps, and her eyes roll back as she answers, "Yes, mother" before the final //THWACK// lands and she is launched into a orgasm that makes her crouch down, squealing and clutching her thighs together as it ripples through her, a beautiful release... ==><== *** <== In the wake of her maintenance spanking, Michelle sniffles quietly as her Governess puts her diaper back on. After the hard 15 swats, she doesn't even have the energy to protest. //So that was a 'maintenance' spanking, and I have another one tomorrow,// she thinks sleepily, her eyes half closing even as Governess Troi lifts her to her feet. A teary-eyed half-smile quirks at her lips, remembering the look on Guinan's face as she watched the belt come down. //Maintenance spanking...now THAT is a good idea...//(set:$diaper="on")(set:$soreness=$soreness+3) [[Continue|STORY 18]]

When the spanking is over, Michelle is allowed to stand, although her knees quiver as she does. "We've had quite enough of your night-time antics," Governess Troi says, as though wetting the bed were something Michelle had decided to do to cause mischief. Sarah Dane -- who has finished making and smoothing out the bedspread -- steps aside and covers her mouth as the governess pushes Michelle, still naked, down firmly onto her bed, then turns her over and lifts her thin legs into the air. "It's clear to me what needs to be done, and I'm sure your mother would agree." Still sniffling and biting her lip against the fresh pain of her spanking, Michelle starts to feel her lower half lifted. She's set down on something cool and soft. Michelle opens her eyes, blinking away tears, and looks down at the Governess fussing between her legs. "This will keep you from making a mess," the Governess says as her hands move with practiced grace. Michelle manages to stop crying for long enough to see clearly... ...that the Governess has wrapped a diaper around her bottom is securing it in place with a large safety pin. "N-no!" Michelle says, suddenly alert. She locks her knees, her face flushing hotter. "I-I don't need a diaper!" "Well, tell that to Miss Danes, who will be washing your dirty sheets!" the Governess says. "Now stop your wriggling before I poke you with this by mistake..." "I-I'm too old..." Michelle says weakly as the safety pin clips shut, sealing her humiliating fate. She looks down at her soft round breasts, her long flat belly, her slender legs -- and now her diaper. "Age is only a number, Michelle, but maturity and trust are //earned//," the Governess says simply. "You will wear this diaper until you've proven that you don't need it -- am I understood?" Michelle, still pouting, glowers at nothing in particular, her face blushing scarlet. But she says nothing. What could she even say that wouldn't earn her //another// spanking? "Good," Governess Troi says, the matter settled. "Now we'll get your dressed and down to breakfast -- you're already late!"(set:$diaper="on") [[Continue|STORY 17]]

The governess returns in an instant, bearing a large drilled paddle that makes Michelle's heart sink. Michelle is looking at the ground, squinting against the sunlight, when she hears the rope disturbing the air, making lazy, humming circles as Governess Troi takes it from the side of the tree. She glances up, confused to see that the strong rope she hadn't even noticed before is tied to one of the highest sturdy limbs on the oak tree. She only protests slightly -- //very// slightly -- as her Governess lifts her dress and tugs her diaper off her already sore bottom. The neighbor girl covers her mouth, giggling gleefully as her suspicion is confirmed. Michelle scowls furiously at her while Governess Troi stoops down to unlace her shoes. Or, at least, that's what Michelle //thought// she was doing. "On your bottom now, knees up," Governess Troi says sharply, lifting her dresses to give her bare bottom a clipping //slap//. Michelle moans softly but obeys, still confused. //If I'm sitting on my bottom,// she thinks as she lowers herself to the ground, //how is she going to --// At all once it seems the world is pulled out from beneath her like a carpet as Michelle is hoisted by her leg -- tied to the strong rope -- into the air. She squeals as she spins at the end of the line like a toy doll, then goes silent as the rope becomes taut and she finds herself dangling about two meters off the ground. Her black hair tumbles down in a straight line to the earth, and her dresses fall around her torso, baring her bottom and her flailing white legs. As she spins, she sees the neighbor girl, her eyes wide with amazement, frozen in a startled laugh. She hears Governess Troi talking behind her but only faintly registers what she's saying. "...going to learn some manners if it's the end of you, you hear me? Screaming and raising a ruckus like that -- you'd think we lived in a stables!" ###//THWACK!// The paddle clapping against her bottom is like a thunderclap, and Michelle's mouth drops open in sheer awe. The force of it against her buttocks -- flattening and parting them, making them dance as fresh, hellish pain arises -- is enough to swing her foward on her rope. She doesn't cry out: she's too shocked. But tears well in her eyes. ###//THWOCK!// "Aaaaa//ieeeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEE!// This time, there's no stopping the shriek as it leaves her lips, her eyes clenched tight as her bottom still wobbles from the immense impact -- a //perfect// hit on a slightly rotating target, catching her flatly on her sit spots -- squeezing out tears that fall even as the marks that //will// be bruises tomorrow rise on both cheeks... ###//THWOCK!// Never has she been in this much pain. The paddle lands with //blistering// speed, guided as though by heaven itself to strike her on the most tender and full sections of her derriere and her upper thigh. Never a glancing blow. Michelle's free leg kicks wildly in the air, contorting her bottom into different shapes, the unforgiving welts rising as fiery hot as the sun. She is lightheaded, both from the pain and from the blood rushing to her head. Her face flushes dark and uncomfortable as she shuts her eyes, tears running up and dripping off her forehead. As she spins, she sees Governess Troi looking up at her, her face a mingling of vengeful rage and satisfaction. She sees the neighbor girl, who looks as though she will be telling this story to her school friends for //weeks// to come. And then she closes her eyes again. Her mind seems to leave her body, seeing her swollen bottom and the helpless sway of her hair more than a meter off the ground... ###//FWACK!!// "//GGAAAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!//"(set:$diaper="off") (set:$diaper="on")(set:$soreness=$soreness+3) [[Continue|EXPLORE (DAY 3)]]

After days of spankings -- some of them in public -- Michelle thought that she couldn't feel //more// embarrassed in front of Sarah Dane. But she was wrong. As Sarah, cooing, lifts her legs and takes off her diaper, Michelle wants to curl up and disappear. She clenches her eyes shut and whimpers softly to herself as Sarah wipes her bottom and tosses the soiled diaper away. She takes another diaper from a hamper and tucks it beneath her. "But first, naughty girl, you're getting a spanking," Sarah Dane says softly, almost intimately.(set:$diaper_timer=0) When Sarah gives her left buttock a hard //slap//, Michelle moans. She knows she deserves it. She knows she's been a bad girl with a full "nappy" (as Sarah Dane reminds her), and she curls her toes, cranes her neck, and squirms gently as her arousal crests into an orgasm, followed by another hard //SMACK//, followed by another whimpering orgasm. Her diaper changed and her bottom spanked, Michelle is told to go to supper. Her legs are weak as she walks down the hall to the dining room, her freshly powdered legs feeling smooth as they rub together, her new diaper soft and cool on her (set:$soreness=$soreness+1)(print:$bottom) bum. [[Continue|STORY 20]]

"G-Governess Troi? Could y-you...spank me one more t-time, tonight?" Michelle's face reddens darkly and her eyes flicker up and down as she adds. "P-please?" The Governess raises her eyebrows. She looks at Michelle through her regal nose and strums her fingers against her crossed arms. "Well," she says finally. "At least you've learned how to //ask for something nicely...//"(set:$diaper="off") ==><== ---- <== //PLAP!// The sounds of her spanking come back to Michelle off the high-ceilinged walls. Each heavy //splat// of the slipper sole against her broad bottom is followed by either a grunt or a pealing cry. She balls her hands into tight fists as the slipper rings out -- three, four, five -- and her feet twist and jerk with rising urgency -- eleven, twelve, thirteen... //FWAP! THWAP! THWOP! THWAP!// "Aaahaaa! OW! Owwwww//ieeeeee//!" "Don't you start whining now, young lady," the Governess warns sternly. Michelle's bottom ripples beneath the heavy //crack// of another well placed slipper-swat, and Michelle strains not to sob. "You ought to be //grateful// you've got a house that cares enough to //correct// you." //FWAP! FWOP! THWOCK!// "Gaha! I w-won't, mistress -- //AGGAH!// -- Owww! Th-thank you!" "That's better," the Governess says, and Michelle can hear her biting back a grin. The pearly-white slipper flashes, and Michelle's (print:$bottom) buttocks bounce. Sometimes she wriggles out of place and is quickly righted, pinned down by the Governess's strong thigh over her leg. Mainly, though, she takes her spanking with her back arched, blinking away tears, her lips parted in a pained but grateful smile. The first time she cums, it surprises her -- she drops her head, brings her shoulderblades together. The second time, the Governess is striking her bottom with vicious repetition until her dark crimson cheek is surely ready to turn black and blue. This time, her toes curl, and she screams, but it comes out as a sob. The tears begin to flow. After a day of canings and spankings with audiences, there's just something so much more //intimate// about being slippered in her bedroom. As this thought occurs to Michelle, she starts to laugh: it bubbles out like a frantic, nervous giggling through her tears as the //slaps// continue to echo off the ceiling and through the house... //THWAP! WHAP! PLAP! FWAP! FWAP! FWOP! THWOCK!// ==><== ____ <== When the spanking is over, Governess Troi diapers Michelle on her bed. The only sound in the room is Michelle's own gasping breath as her nanny sets about preparing her to go to sleep. She pulls the nightgown over her head roughly and smooths it over her flat belly and the pouch of her diapered bottom. (set:$diaper="on")(set:$soreness=$soreness+2) As she leaves, the Govereness turns at the doorway. "Good night, Michelle," she says softly. Her voice has never sounded so kind... [[Go to bed|ENDING OF DAY 3]]

The night is dark and cloudy -- the moon and stars are invisible, and even the crickets seem hushed. Her window has been propped open on account of it being warm. The curtains ripple gently in the breeze. Unsurprisingly, Michelle can't sleep. She needs to //see// it... She stands, wincing, and lifts her nightgown. She tenderly slides down her diaper, realizing with a rush of embarrassment and pleasure that she'll be wearing her diaper tonight without being reminded, like a good girl. She turns, her face warm in the darkness, and looks at her bottom in the mirror. Her once-pale behind is layered with dark scarlet welts, raised where the cane landed on the center and lower halves of each cheeks. The crimson is full, uninterrupted across each buttock and all the way to her mid-thigh. Her sit-spots are dark with mottled bruises. She's amazed to see it, even though it looks like it feels. She admires her bottom for several long minutes, her mouth open, her eyes glimmering. When at last she climbs back into bed, her diaper feeling tight over her swollen tushy, she wonders if she'll have the same dream she's been having the past few days. It's the last full thought she has before drifting off to sleep. [[Continue|STORY 21]]

//Mist sparkles in the air around her like a halo as the white noise of the waterfall rushes over her mind, a delicious absense of sensation as she wades deeper into the crystal-blue waters. At this point, Michelle has been here often enough to know this is the same dream she has had every night in the holodeck, the same waterfall, the same forest of evergreens. And the same woman facing away from her, rising out of the water as she turns. The woman has cocao-brown skin and a smooth complexion. The water sloughes off the perfect curves of her waist until it's just below the level of her navel, her naked body gleaming by the light through the trees. Her eyes are narrow, and they flicker with mischief. She's young, not much older than Michelle -- maybe in her early twenties. Her hair is braided in thin, whip-like cords that fall around her bare shoulders. Her cheek dimples as she smirks. Without realizing it, Michelle is moving towards her. Drawn to her, like the center of a whirlpool. She's whimpering with need, trying to get closer. The woman grins, baring remarkably white teeth that glint in the dappled sunlight. She tilts her chin up as Michelle approaches, the points of her breasts rising, tips hard and purple-dark. Against the backdrop of the staggering waterfall, she is a magnificently feminine silhouette. Michelle reaches the woman at the center of the tide pool, but as she wades the final few feet the water is too deep for her to touch the bottom. She kicks helplessly for the silt at the bottom, bobbing and sputtering softly. The water is at her eyeline and blurs her vision of the woman, who reaches out her hand... With an effortless Grace, the woman pulls Michelle through the water towards her. Gasping, Michelle grabs hold of the woman's tall body like a shipwreck survivor clinging for the mast. She wraps her arms around the woman's waist and finds her flesh as soft and smooth and delightfully perfumed as in her imagination. She feels a pressure on her left buttock under the water and realizes that the woman is gripping her by the underside of her thigh, drawing her close. Now she's gasping and panting front the effort of clinging to the slippery woman's midsection, but then the woman's low laugh makes her ears prickle. She looks up and sees the woman stooping down to her. "Such a naughty girl," the woman purrs. Michelle gasps, swallowing water, heart racing. "Such a very naughty girl, to be so excited --" ==><== ----- <== // "-- by some naughty dream, no doubt, simply //incorrigible//," the Governess is saying as Michelle awakens with a start. "Just //look// at you! Nipples all perked up, whimpering and mewling like a feline in heat! We'll just have to wake you up with some //discipline// and a //cold bath// won't we? Come, come, girl, get up!" As the dream fades and the reality of Michelle's situation dawns, her eyes get wide. She'd been talking in her sleep! She has no idea what she said...but apparently, it was enough to merit a spanking for its indecency. //Mmmmph,// she winces, another day in the holodeck beginning. //And I was having such a NICE dream, too!// [[Continue|SPANKED FOR EXCITEMENT]]

From the darkened corridors, Michelle hears the voice again. Calling her name. Her blood runs cold. "Michelle! Come here at //once//." "Y-yes, ma'am!" Michelle replies reflexively. //But where is 'here?'// She follows the voice until she discovers that the 'here' is Janet Winters' office, a rather draughty room with a large window overlooking the courtyard and a wall lined with book shelves. The lady of the house is seated at her desk with her back to Michelle as she comes to the door frame. She turns slowly, and Michelle is relieved to see she's not holding a cane. But the feeling doesn't last long... "Come here, girl," she says sharply. Michelle practically jumps to obey. She comes to the lady's side of the desk, expecting Janet Winters to stand...but she doesn't. Instead, she tilts her head inquisitively at Michelle, one finger on her cheek. "There's been...a //rumor//," Janet Winters says dispassionately, "that you've come to //enjoy// your spankings." Michelle's stomach nearly drops out of her bum. Janet measures her silence, raising her eyebrows. "Hm," she says, cryptically. "Rumor or no, I need to check for myself. It won't do at all to have your //perversions// ruining your discipline." She straightens her back and pats her lap. "Disrobe yourself, Michelle, and then sit on me knee." When Michelle seems confused, Janet's nostrils flare, as if with wry amusement. "Ah! It seems you aren't acquainted with this...//style// of punishment. I suppose you wouldn't be, spoiled as you are. No matter. You'll be receiving tonight's spanking in the '//wheelbarrow//' position." [[Continue|WHEELBARROW SPANKED BY MISTRESS]]

Soundly disciplined, Michelle is shooed downstairs for breakfast. She comes into the dining room and sees that, once again, Guinan is the only person at the table. Guinan smirks at her, lifting her cup of tea in acknowledgement. Michelle here's the //clump// of the Governess's shoes upstairs, and her cheeks burn as she realizes that Guinan must have heard her entire spanking just now... "Good morning," Guinan purrs. "Come on, have a seat." She raises an eyebrow. "Unless that poses some kind of...problem?" Michelle grins shyly, and Guinan seems pleased. So Michelle takes the seat across from her -- only wincing slightly as she sits on her tender heinie -- and pours herself a cup of tea. "Isn't this fragrance delightful?" Guinan says. "There's nothing quite like a hot cup of tea to wake you up in the morning." Michelle gives a timid nod. She continues to tilt the kettle until Guinan reaches over the table and stays her hand. "Don't have too much -- you'll have an accident." "An acci --? Oh..." Michelle ears burn red with embarassment as Guinan's meaning dawns on her. Then, feeling a new surge of friskiness, she says: "Well, isn't that why they have me wearing a diaper?" Guinan cocks an eyebrow at her. "I-I mean...not that I...I mean..." "Oh, I take your meaning, naughty girl," Guinan says, her voice low and velvety as she smiles. "But be honest with me now: is the only reason you're wearing a diaper because 'they' made you wear it?" She uses pronounced air-quotes around the word //they//, and after asking the question, she leans back expectantly. Of course, Michelle doesn't answer. She only blushes, feeling about half her size -- even though Guinan can't possibly be more than a couple of inches taller than her, //if// that. //How does she always manage to make me feel this way?!// "You know why you wear it?" Guinan goes on. "Because it shows your //complete// submission. When you wear a diaper, you're showing that you've give up complete control to them. You are //theirs// and //their responsibility// -- inside //and// out." Michelle thinks about this for a moment. She //has// felt a particular way ever since she was first diapered...like, at the same time this freedom was //taken away//, something else was //given// to her...something hard to describe. So, instead of trying to describe it, she drinks her tea. Over the rim of the cup, she sees Guinan grinning at her. Watching closely. ==><== --- <== Guinan excuses herself after tea, leaving Michelle alone. The toll of the grandfather clock from the other room tells her that it's almost time for lessons. But the thought of going back to the Governess right now is less than pleasant: her behind is still tingling, and her face is still shiny from this morning's dried tears. //Maybe I could explore the house a little bit first. I think I'd have time//... [[Explore|EXPLORE (DAY 4)]] [[Go to lessons|STORY 23]]

(if:$late is 1)["You're late," the Governess says primly. "The lady of the house will hear of this, you can be sure of it." //I bet she will,// Michelle thinks, but doesn't dare to say... ](set:$explore=1)"Right, then," the Governess declares as Michelle enters the study. "Time for your lessons. Today we'll have an assessment, which is why, as you can see, we've brought the punishment bench in from the woodshed." She gestures to the other side of the room, and Michelle's heart just about stops. There, in front of the Governess's desk, is a medieval-looking device: it's a long, pommel-horse-like beam with two angled appendages at either side, each ending with a leather strap folded in a loop. It really //does// look as though it belongs in a woodshed -- certainly not in a comfortable study. But despite seeming out of place, it's purpose is immediately clear. Michelle is guided over the punishment bench with rough urgency. The Governess has her straddle the central beam, then her wrists are manacled in place at the end of each of the appendages and her ankles are bound to the support pole at the rear end. The bench is curved to raise her hips to make for a finer targer. And what a target she makes! "As you know, your incentive will be to avoid strokes of the cane by demonstrating your knowledge of the subject." The Governess swings a rattan cane with a heavy rush of displaced air. "One missed answer is five strokes with the cane." //Five?!!?// "The more you recall, the less sore you'll be," the Governess says. Michelle can hear her relish the words, even biting the inside of her cheek to prevent a grin. "There will be five questions -- 25 strokes of the cane would be very...unfortunate." //You THINK?// "Are you ready, Michelle?" //As I'll ever be,// poor Michelle thinks miserably, her (print:$bottom) clenching in anticipation. "Yes, mistress," she says in a soft voice. "Good. Then we'll begin." [[Continue|Q1]]

In socked feet, Michelle pads down the carpeted stairs into the living. She hears a sudden peal of laughter and stops, startled, at the threshhold. The Governess and Guinan are sitting side by side on the sofa, both women holding twinkling glasses of sherry close to their faces, casting mischevious grins at each other over the rims. The Governess has her hair down loosely...or, maybe she //hasn't// changed her hair at all, and it's just the impression of //looseness//: shoulders relaxed, smiling gaily. Guinan purses her lips to sip her sherry, then makes a satisfied noise as she's setting the glass down. When she sees Michelle, her eyebrows leap, and a gleam comes to her eye. "Ah, look who it is!" she says. Governess Troi turns, and her face registers the same surprise and gleeful excitement "Wouldn't you know it, we were //just// speaking of you." "Oh, yes," Governess Troi says. "I was just telling Guinan about the morning we had." Michelle's cheeks burn. She folds her hands together, eyes downcast. But if she seems unreceptive to their teasing, it doesn't bother them. If anything, this seems to make the women //more// interested in talking to her. Governess Troi folds her arms and leans back, surveying Michelle with a cool glare. Guinan looks expectantly between the Governess and Michelle before taking another sip of her sherry. //I don't like the way they're looking at me...// [[Continue|DOUBLE SPANKING]]

(if:$explore is 0)[//I need some fresh air,// Michelle thinks. She steps outside. It's an overcast day, but the air is crisp and clean, as though somehow fresher for being somewhat wet and dim. As the double door clatters shut behind her, she surveys the yard... ...and sees, over the fence, the red-haired girl she met yesterday, just before being hung from the tree limb and spanked. Michelle's face flushes. She looks down at her shoes, clasping her fingers together. But the red-headed girl keeps staring at her. Not in a mean way: her face doesn't have a touch of judgement on it. //Which is impressive, considering the condition she saw me in...// No, the girl only seems curious. After glancing up a few times and awkwardly meeting her eyes, the red-headed girl beckons her over. Michelle looks back at the house. She sighs. //Oh, what the hell...// She walks over the where the girl is leaning on the fence. The girl's eyes shine as Michelle steps up to her, blushing incandescently. "Oh, hello there." "H-heh. Hello." She tilts up her chin. "I'm Annabelle." Michelle looks up, surprised. The girl's freckled face is self-assured, but not smug. "I-Im' Michelle." "Quite a spanking you got yesterday," Annabelle says. Michelle looks down. Then Annabelle shrugs. "Don't worry. I still get them too." "Y-you do?" The girl grins. "But //that// one was a walloping!" Michelle opens her mouth to reply, but just then she hears a distant voice calling her from inside. Annabelle tilts her head. "You'd better go. I wouldn't want to see what your governess does if you make her wait." She grins again -- it's sharp-toothed, but still kindly. Like that of a teasing older sister. "It was nice meeting you, Michelle. I'll see you around." With that, she jumps down from the fence and disappears. "Y-you too!" Michelle calls over the fence. Then she turns to the house.(set:$late=1)(set:$explore=1) //Annabelle is right...I'd better go back in...// [[Continue|STORY 23]]]{ }(else-if:$explore is 1)[On her wall through the hall, Michelle has a terrible realization: she has to pee. //Badly//. She looks down, eyes wide with panic, at her belly and pats her diapered bottom with both hands. She winces. //I CAN'T use the diaper...// She looks around. //But...can I even get to a bathroom in time?// Her frown deepens, and she chews her finger worriedly. //Will Mistress even LET me?//(set:$explore=2) [[[Go to the bathroom|FORCED TO USE POTTY]] [Use diaper]<diaper|]<choice|(click:?diaper)[(replace:?choice)[It's no use. Michelle crosses her legs, mutters a curse beneath her breath, and, her face glowing like a hot coal, let's go. Frothy, warm urine fills the diaper almost the //second// she releases. The cloth darkens, and yellow rivulets run down her legs. Drips of it patter on the carpeted floor. Michelle covers her face, wanting nothing more than to crawl in a hole and disappear... But before she even //moves//, she needs someone to change her. Her voice is uneven, breaking at first, as she calls. "M-Miss Sarah?" she says. Then again. "//Miss Sarah?//" The moment Sarah Chamberlain comes around the corner, folding a freshly laundered hand-towel, she knows what Michelle needs. It's her face -- not the soiled diaper -- that gives it away first. "Oh //my//," Sarah says, suppressing a giggle behind her hand. "//Someone// has made a //mess!//" ==><== --- <== (display:"PUT ON DIAPER") [[Continue|STORY 24]]]]]{ }(else-if:$explore is 2)[Michelle is still lying on her bed in her room (on her tummy, of course) when she hears the door open behind her. She looks over her shoulder to see Sarah Danes entering with a freshly cleaned squatty-potty, which she lays at the foot of Michelle's bed. Michelle can't keep the sarcastic note out of her voice when she says: "//Thanks//." The young chambermaid grins. "Don't mention it." Then, she produces a small notepad from her back pocket. "Well, Michelle, you're a lucky girl today..." "I-I am?" "Of //course// you are!" Sarah replies, dropping her arms at her sides. "It's your birthday this week, after all!" Michelle's mouth drops. She'd completely forgotten that she'd programmed her birthday into the holodeck: she'd never planned to spend a full week at a time here, and so she'd figured that her in-holodeck birthday wouldn't be arriving for at least a month...//Oh, how wrong I was...// she thinks bitterly. Her forehead lines with worry when she thinks back to how the program had been set to "celebrate"...//What did I have it do?// She doesn't have to wonder long. "Let's work out how you'll take your birthday spanking, shall we?" "B-birthday spanking?" Michelle splutters. Sarah cocks her head, as though Michelle had just spoken in gibberish. "Yes, of course! It's a tradition, we do it every year!" "//Every// year?" Michelle wails. Sarah puts her hands on her hips. "What sort of birthday tradition would it be if you //didn't// do it every year?! Now," Sarah says. "What implement would you be liking for your birthday spanking? Pick your favorite!" [[Paddle]<paddle| [Hairbrush]<hairbrush| [Belt]<belt| [Slipper]<slipper| [Hand]<hand| [Cane]<cane|]<implement|{ }(click:?paddle)[(set:$implement="paddle")(replace:?implement)["Ah, the (print:$implement), good choice," Sarah says. "And, um, how many spanks will it be?" [[Give a number|NUMBER]]]]{ }(click:?hairbrush)[(set:$implement="hairbrush")(replace:?implement)["Ah, the (print:$implement), good choice," Sarah says. "And, um, how many spanks will it be?" [[Give a number|NUMBER]]]]{ }(click:?belt)[(set:$implement="belt")(replace:?implement)["Ah, the (print:$implement), good choice," Sarah says. "And, um, how many spanks will it be?" [[Give a number|NUMBER]]]]{ }(click:?slipper)[(set:$implement="slipper")(replace:?implement)["Ah, the (print:$implement), good choice," Sarah says. "And, um, how many spanks will it be?" [[Give a number|NUMBER]]]]{ }(click:?hand)[(set:$implement="hand")(replace:?implement)["Ah, the (print:$implement), good choice," Sarah says. "And, um, how many spanks will it be?" [[Give a number|NUMBER]]]]{ }(click:?cane)[(set:$implement="cane")(replace:?implement)["Ah, the (print:$implement), good choice," Sarah says. "And, um, how many spanks will it be?" [[Give a number|NUMBER]]]]]

"Yes, I was just hearing about your morning discipline, Michelle," Guinan says. "Although I didn't really need to be told, since I could hear you carrying on from downstairs!" "Oh, but you didn't see what //I// saw," the Governess says. "She was whining, sure, but the truth is that our Michelle had //mixed feelings// about her spanking this morning. You should have seen..." Here, the Governess leans over and whispers into Guinan's ear with her hand cupped around her lip. Guinan's eyebrows rise still further. Neither woman takes their eyes off Michelle the whole while. Michelle can feel her ears reddening and her nipples stiffening again... "//Well// now!" Guinan says. "If Michelle //enjoys// her punishments so much, I think we ought to give her more of them." She tilts her head. "What do //you// think, Michelle?" "I-I..."(set:$soreness=$soreness+1) "Yes, //definitely,// I agree," Governess Troi declares. She stands suddenly, setting her glass down as she does. "And I think you ought to help me, Guinan -- Michelle has taken a fancy to you, I can tell. Maybe a good spanking from Lady Guinan will sink in better, eh?" "Even better if you use my hairbrush...good that I brought it downstairs with me!" Before Michelle can even open her mouth to reply, she's being pulled to the edge of the sofa by the tittering women. She's pushed and pulled over the arm of the sofa and closes her eyes. Still on her back, she feels the women crowd around her. By the time she //does// open her mouth, it's only a gasp as her legs are lifted and her diaper is unpinned and pulled off her (print:$bottom) bottom. Her spanking is already under way. [[Continue|DOUBLE SPANKING 2]]

No sooner is Michelle out of bed and wriggled out of her diaper than Governess Troi has her flung over her lap. Troi flips up the hem of her nightgown, exposing her (print:$bottom) bottom to the cool morning air. "A sign of //moral decadence// -- moaning in your sleep like that. Have an exciting dream, did you? I'll show //you// excitement!" //PHLAP!// "Owww!" Michelle winces. Her bottom, still sore from yesterdays spankings, smarts sharply, flattened under Troi's palm. This is //quite// a wake-up call. "M-mistress, //please!// I--" //FWAP!// "Oooohhhh!" And so Michelle's morning begins: with a bang //and// a whimper. Or rather, quite of few //slaps// and a quite a //lot// of whimpering. Michelle kicks and squeals as her bottom is peppered with hard swats. When the Governess loses patience with her squirming, she pins one strong leg over the milky-white of Michelle's inner knee and strikes her bottom with resounding follow-though. //WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!// Michelle's backside jiggles and stings as the poor girl winces, gasping biting her lip, trying to hold back tears... ...and quite a few //other// emotions as well. Which, of course, the Governess does not fail to notice. Once the fresh-handprints have solidly covered her subject's round derriere, Governess Troi pauses to press two fingers between Michelle's quivering thighs. "Eep!" Michelle cries out, wide-eyed. "Just as I thought," the Governess tuts. "You're //wet.// As the Governess strokes Michelle's slippery sex, a full body shiver shakes stray black hairs into her blushing face. The Governess shakes her head, running her hand under Michelle's chest. "And see here, your nipples are still standing up! This is what moral decadence will do to you." //FWAP!// "Aaaha!" //FWAP!// "Aiiiiieeeeee!" "Even your //discipline// makes you think naughty thoughts!" She redoubles her efforts, spanking Michelle until she begins to blubber and cry. "We'll just have to //clean out// that dirty mind of yours!" //FWAP! THWAP! FWACK! FWACK! FWACK!// "I-I'm sorry, m-mistress! Ow! Ahaa! I-I'll be good!" "Oho, you'd //better// be," the Governess declares beneath her breath. "You'd //better// be..." ==><== --- <== Her morning punishment finally over, Michelle is ordered to lay down on the bed so she can be wrapped in a fresh diaper. The Governess clucks at her softly, but no more words are spoken. Michelle's tears dry as she's looking up into the Governess's blurry but beautiful face. For an instant, she sees the woman in the waterfall... But then that face is gone.(set:$soreness=$soreness+2) [[Continue|STORY 22]]

Sarah Danes sprinkle white powder on the pale insides of her legs and the (print:$bottom) flesh of her bottom before sliding her into a new cloth diaper and clipping it around the front. "There -- all ready," Sarah says. She gives Michelle a cheeky grin. "Was //that// what you were making such a fuss about? You really are such a //naughty// girl." She pats Michelle's bottom before sending her on her way. Her face hot and flushed, a cool diaper on her loins, Michelle figures she's as ready as she'll ever be to continue to face whatever the holodeck has for her next...

"Question 1: Which Greek philosopher was a student of Socrates?" [[Plato]<right| [Aristotle]<wrong|]<question|{ }(click:?right)[(replace:?question)["Very good. Next question..." [[Continue|Q2]]]]{ }(click:?wrong)[(replace:?question)["Hm. Next question..." (set:$incorrect_assessment=$incorrect_assessment+1)[[Continue|Q2]]]]

//I...I just CAN'T,// Michelle thinks, mouth twisting. She hurries out into the hall, walking on her tiptoes. If she can only make it to the washroom downstairs, she could avoid the humiliation of having her diaper changed... //Again//... She sees the washroom door and dashes for it. At the other side: relief. Sweet, blissful relief! She starts preemptively to hook her fingers under her skirt and into the hem of her diaper as she puts her shoulder against the door, sees the glimpse of tile as it opens -- "Oho, no you don't!" Governess Troi slaps her hand against the door to the washroom, slamming the door closed. The glimpse of tile disappears, and with it, all hope of avoiding her mortifying fate. Michelle feels as though she were looking up the side of a house as the Governess folds her arms, looking down on her. "I believe we have //discussed// this, Michelle," the Governess says. "The washroom is for //good girls// who don't make messes in their //beds//." She quirks her lips. "Luckily for you, your squatty potty is exactly where we left it. Michelle whimpers as she's taken by the arm and led away, casting one forlorn glance over her shoulder at the washroom door... ==><== --- <== //FWITT!// "Owwwwwww!" Michelle's naked buttocks tense and her knees shake as the nursey cane flicks across her (print:$bottom) behind. She whimpers miserably as the smell of her potty rises up to her, somehow //worse// than that of a dirty diaper, at the cost of eight freshly stinging welts on her bottom. When the Governess wipes her, her whole nude body shudders, as if from cold. She feels tears burning in the back of her throat, blurring her vision. "There," the Governess says flatly. "All done." Michelle stands, casting a look at her dress lying folded in the corner. Seeing the direction of her eyes, the Govereness tuts. "Ah ah ah. No getting dressed yet. First, Ms. Danes will powder you and put on a fresh nappie. Ms. Danes!"(set:$soreness=$soreness+2) Michelle's lip quivers as she stands, feeling as though the humiliation will never end... ==><== --- <== (display:"PUT ON DIAPER") [[Continue|STORY 24]]

What follows is the most //revealing// spanking that Michelle has ever received in her //life//.(set:$soreness=$soreness+2) The "wheelbarrow" position, it turns out, involves having your legs straddling the spanker's midsection while your face is by their feet. Not only is Michelle stripped completely naked -- so her breasts are goosepimpling in the breeze -- but Michelle can even feel the cool and draughty air on her nether regions, tickling her anus and the lips of her vulva. She flushes hotly...but this heat, she soon discovers, is nothing compared to what is in store. Lady Winters spanks her (print:$bottom) bottom with her hand -- //hard//. Hard enough that she can feel her buttocks wobbling. Hard enough that her face starts to ache from holding an expression of pain. And hard enough, of course, that her sex begins to feel moist...her nipples stiffen...her eyes water and sting... "A proper lady," Lady Winters says without emotion as she //slaps// Michelle's dancing bottom in an alternating pattern -- right cheek, right cheek, left cheek, left cheek -- "could never be anything but //humiliated// by a spanking. You understand this, Michelle?" Michelle whimpers softly. The agony in her bottom flares. "Yet, I hear you are sometimes...//aroused// when receiving punishments..." She paused to prod Michelle's tender privates with an inquisitive finger. Michelle squeaks. "Hmmmm." And then the spanking continues. Michelle's bottom aches. It swells and bounces, her asshole winking at Lady Winters as the cleft tenses and spreads, toes curling up by the lady's shoulders. Michelle closes her eyes. She pants. She cries. She clenches her fists... //SMACK! SMACK! FWACK! FWAP! FWAP! THWACK!// Before long, Michelle is //fighting// not to orgasm...//Need...to...resist!// [[Resist]<resist|(live:5s)[ She isn't sure how much more she can take...Every fresh //SPLAT// against her backside is like a wave lapping higher on a silent beach... //WHAP! WHACK! FWACK! FWACK! SMACK! THWACK!//](live:10s)[ She's biting her lip, trying to block out the world. Trying to think of anything else -- anything else besides the cresting wave, the rising tide. //WHAP! WHACK! FWACK! FWACK! SMACK! THWACK!//](live:15s)[ She feels herself at the edge of an orgasm. //Can't...scream...// //WHAP! WHACK! FWACK! FWACK! SMACK! THWACK!//](live:20s)[ The Mistress strokes her gently between smacks, now. Michelle is biting her lip so hard she nearly draws blood. "What are you feeling, then," her lady says in a low, dulcet tone. "Do you like it? When I do //this//?" //FWACK! WHAP! WHACK! FWACK! SMACK! THWACK!//](live:25s)[ [Give in]<give_in|]]<decision|{ }(click:?resist)[(replace:?decision)[Whimpering softly and squirming, Michelle manages to suppress her orgasm. Every muscle in her legs contracts sharply, and she howls like a dog: "Aaaaaw//wwwooooooooowwwwwwwwwww!//" She kicks her legs, her (print:$bottom) behind its darkest rouge yet... But at last, the spanking is done. "Well, then," Janet Winters says quietly. "That settles it..." And without another word, she makes Michelle stand, gather her clothes, and leave. [[Continue|ENDING OF DAY 4]]]](click:?give_in)[(replace:?decision)[Michelle cums. She comes hard. She comes //loudly//. She wails and moans as it washes over her, tensing her entire body, a sweet and luxurious release. She almost forgets, in the absolute bliss of her orgasm, that the lady is clutching her thighs... "Ah-ahaa-aaaa//haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaiiiiiaaaaaaaaaaaa!//" ...until, of course, the sensation has passed. Now, all Michelle feels the furious eyes of the lady upon her, the steely grip of her fingernails on her thighs. Her orgasm couldn't have been clearer if she'd been shouting the name of a lover. She's found out. No hiding it now... //Oh, god...//(set:$enema=1) "Well, then," Janet Winters says quietly. "That settles it..." And without another word, she makes Michelle stand, gather her clothes, and leave. [[Continue|ENDING OF DAY 4]]]]

(if:$enema is 1)[As Michelle leaves the lady's office, she plays back what just happened in her mind. She came -- and the lady //definitely// knew it. But...she did nothing? Perhaps spanking a spanking-addict defeats the purpose. //Or the fun...// Michelle thinks darkly. //So then...what will my punishment be?// The words Guinan gave her this morning, for some reason, seem to play themselves again in her mind. //You are //theirs// and //their responsibility// -- inside //and// out.// //How else can they show they own me? Can this really go any further?// Michelle bites her lip, gently placing one hand on her bruised and stinging bottom and nearly crying out from the pain. //Could...could I even take much more?// Apparently, that will have to wait until tomorrow, because the Governess announces from the other room that it's her bedtime and time for a bath. ]Exhausted from the day, Michelle goes to bed. More specifically, she's //put// to bed by the Governess, who gives her a few //whacks// with the bathbrush for complaining that the water was too cold, and then by Sarah Danes, who kisses her sweetly on her forehead. "You'll want to give your bum some cool air, I should think," she says, pulling off Michelle's diaper. Michelle looks at her, tearful gratitude in her eyes. The cool air is like sweet, soothing milk for her (print:$bottom) bottom. "But don't forget to put it on before you fall asleep! 4 days down...3 more until the real Troi will come to rescue her. Can she make it? ==><== #THE END (for now)

//FWACK!// "Owwwoo!" Michelle squeals as Governess Troi lands a stinging swat with Guinan's dark cherry-wood hairbrush, and a welt begins to rise on her left thigh. Guinan is holding her other leg, and Michelle cringes as she raises her many-ringed hand for a hard smack. //WHAP!// "Ngaaah!" "Look! You see what I was saying, Lady Guinan?" Troi says triumphantly, pointing to Michelle's breasts, where (to Michelle's dismay) small wet circles over her nipples have given away her arousal. She shakes her head fiercely before doubling down again: "What a //naughty//," -- //SPLAT!// -- "//naughty//" -- //THWACK!// -- "girl!" //THWACK! THWACK! FWACK!// Each //crack// of the hairbrush rings out through the room, and Michelle squeals in pain. The Governess is striking her buttock and her lower thigh from above, and the tender flesh ripples with every spank. Meanwhile, Guinan is peppering her other cheek with hard, fast slaps: //FWAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!// "Nooooooo!" "//Yes//, young lady," Governess Troi declares. "You //need// this discipline more than you even know! Here, Guinan, take your brush back and even out the girl's backside." "My pleasure." //FWOCK!// "Owwwww!" //FWACK!// "Ggggaaaaaah!" //FWAP! THWAP! THWAP! THWAP!// This continues until Michelle thinks she might wet herself. Steam is just about pouring out of her ears as her backside takes spank after spank, dancing and bouncing as she squirms uselessly. The women hold her legs tightly by the ankles, chatting casually to each other between strokes. Worse still...she's loving every //second// of it. Their attention has her sex practically //glistening//, //yearning//. Her shrieks start to have a tinge of excitement, then -- a sort of upward lilt, as though a cross between a squeal and a moan. Then Guinan tilts her leg aside, spreading her apart and gently touching her aching sex with her fingers. "I think you're right, Governess Troi. She's clearly excited..." "'Course I'm right," the Governess says, smirking. "Do you know what I heard her doing in her sleep, the little tart?" //FWACK!// "Ooooowwwwwwaaah!" //THWACK!// "Eeeeeeiaaaaaahaaahoowww!" //THWAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!// "She was //moaning.// It sounded like a right //brothel!//" "Maybe she was dreaming of //this//," Guinan says, a wolfish grin spreading slowly across her face. "Hah!" the Governess says. She tilts Michelle's leg to spread them, then gives her pussy a hard //slap// with her cupped hand. The sting is immense, the sound wet and hollow. She slaps again, and again. Michelle feels her thigh muscles quivering. "Maybe you're right. But you know, in her dream, I doubt she was getting bushwhacked like this...do you think?" "Oho, I don't know," Guinan says. She grabs a handful of Michelle's swollen arse and spreads it, then //nails// her with the wooden hairbrush, //right// on the most tender spot of all: her backdoor. "Oooooo//iiiiiiiooooooooahahahaaaaa//!" Michelle cries. "Waahaaaaaa!" She wails like a child, her hair mussed and in her face, her face and bottom both beet red, her toes clenching and shivering as Guinan and Troi take alternating swats at her anus, the insides of her thighs, and her swollen sex. She twists, turns, wails, gasps... And finally, she cums.(set:$soreness=$soreness+1) [[Continue|DOUBLE SPANKING AFTERMATH]]

In the afterglow of her earth-shattering orgasm, Michelle's chest heaves. Her tormenters seem to both know -- something in the change of pitch, the clenching of her thighs. They grin knowingly, at Michelle and then each other. Guinan strokes Michelle's face lightly, wiping away a tear. "Such a pretty girl," she says in a low voice. "Yes, but naughty," the Governess reminds her. "Oh, yes. //Very.//" Guinan agrees. ==><== ---- <== With her spanking over, the Governess puts her diaper back on. "Now, leave the adults to talk," she says...but her voice is kinder than before. Guinan and Troi sink back into the couch, picking up their sherries together as Guinan sets down the brush. Over the rush of blood still pounding in her ears and the incredible pain throbbing in her tushy, the last thing Michelle hears as she's leaving the room is the sound of their laughter. Satisfied and full. [[Continue|EXPLORE (DAY 4)]]

"Question 2: This French philosopher famously said, "Je pense, donc je suis." [[Voltaire]<wrong| [Descartes]<right|]<question|{ }(click:?right)[(replace:?question)["Good. Next question...." [[Continue|Q3]]]]{ }(click:?wrong)[(replace:?question)["Mmm. Next question." (set:$incorrect_assessment=$incorrect_assessment+1)[[Continue|Q3]]]]

"Question 3: 'Do unto others as you would have them do unto you' was originally said by..." [[Jesus of Nazareth]<wrong| [Confucious]<right|]<question|{ }(click:?right)[(replace:?question)[The Governess nods. "Next one..." [[Continue|Q4]]]]{ }(click:?wrong)[(replace:?question)[The Governess frowns. "Right, then, moving on..."(set:$incorrect_assessment=$incorrect_assessment+1) [[Continue|Q4]]]]

"Question 4: //The Art of War// was written by..." [[Sun Tzu]<right| [Cicero]<wrong|]<question|{ }(click:?right)[(replace:?question)[She dips her head affirmatively. "Next question." [[Continue|Q5]]]]{ }(click:?wrong)[(replace:?question)[She taps her pencil impatiently. "Next question."(set:$incorrect_assessment=$incorrect_assessment+1) [[Continue|Q5]]]]

"Question 5: The key figure in the Christian Reformation was..." [[Thomas of Aquinas]<wrong| [Martin Luther]<right|]<question|{ }(click:?right)[(replace:?question)[The Governess closes her test book with a //snap//. "Alright, we're done. Let's review." [[Continue|CANED FOR INCORRECT ANSWERS]]]]{ }(click:?wrong)[(replace:?question)[The Governess closes her test book with a //snap//. "Alright, we're done. Let's review."(set:$incorrect_assessment=$incorrect_assessment+1) [[Continue|CANED FOR INCORRECT ANSWERS]]]]

(unless:$incorrect_assessment is 0)["Well, Michelle," Governess Troi says with a sigh, setting her reading glasses aside. "You missed (print:$incorrect_assessment) question(if:$incorrect_assessment>1)[s]. You know what //that// means." Michelle sighs deeply. She makes a half-hearted attempt to wriggle in place on the punishment bench, knowing full well that she won't be able to move an inch. "Don't you sigh at me, young lady," Governess Troi warns. "Now, brace yourself -- you've earned (print:$incorrect_assessment*5) strokes." Biting her lip, Michelle closes her eyes and clenches her buttocks as best she can in her pinned position on the bench. Her heart is pounding with the anticipation as the Governess fetches a rattan cane from the cupboard. She isn't waiting long. (if:$incorrect_assessment > 0)[//ffffFWACK! ffffFWACK! ffffffWACK! fffFWACK! fffffWACK!//(set:$soreness=$soreness+1) The rush of the cane is like a storm-wind breaking into a thunderclap on her (print:$bottom) heinie. Five spanks make five nearly-parallel lines across her rear, fanning out slightly on her right buttock. Michelle grits her teeth against the awful pain.](if:$incorrect_assessment > 1)[ //fffffffFWACK! fFWACK! ffffffWOCK! fffFWACK! fffffWACK!//(set:$soreness=$soreness+1) Another five strokes: the sound of the cane cutting through the air is like a billowing sail. On the seventh, Michelle tries to kick up her left foot but only succeeds in making the restraint rattle. Tears pricking at the edges of her sight.](if:$incorrect_assessment > 2)[ //ffFWACK! fffffffFWOCK! ffffffWACK! fffFWACK! fffWOCK!//(set:$soreness=$soreness+1) Unbelievable stinging. Like her entire backside is one horrible welt. Michelle feels hot tears slide down both cheeks, and she hiccups softly, still biting the inside of her cheek. Only on the fifteenth stroke does she cry out: "Nggggaahaaa!"](if:$incorrect_assessment > 3)[ //ffffFWOCK! fFWACK! ffffWACK! ffffffFWOCK! fffffWACK!//(set:$soreness=$soreness+1) Now she's writhing about on the bench with every mighty //swat//, grimacing and wincing as the welts rise on her bottom, tomorrow's bruises blossoming hotly across her derriere. She drops her head. She sobs loudly. She cries out, a mournful whine: "Wwwaaaaaaaaahaaaa!" ](if:$incorrect_assessment > 4)[ //ffFWACK! ffffFWACK! ffffWACK! fffFWOCK! fffffWOCK!//(set:$soreness=$soreness+1) Michelle's last five spanks are enough to completely reduce her to a blubbering mess. The lines across her behind are dark, unforgiving red and purplish, and the pain is extraordinary. Her tears are streaming down her face as she stands, legs quaking, to thank the Governess for her disciplining.] "Th-thank you, m-mistress," Michelle says, in a daze. "Next time, //study.// Now, off with you." And with that, she's dismissed.](else:)["Well, Michelle, I must say that I'm impressed," Governess Troi says, setting the book aside. "There are times I'm not sure you're hearing a word I say. Today, though, you've done quite well. No caning today -- you may go." This is all Michelle needs to hear. She high-tails out of the study as fast as her feet can carry her. //I was guessing on half of those -- what luck!//] Michelle is released from the punishment bench, feeling as though she could be poured into a glass. She stands there, stark naked, feeling the air tickle her (print:$bottom) behind before the Governess puts her diaper back on, pulls her dress over her head, and sends her on her way with a pat on her backside. [[Continue|EXPLORE (DAY 4)]]

(set:$number_of_spanks=(prompt:"How many spanks should Michelle receive?","ENTER NUMBER"))Sarah raises her eyebrows as she jots down the number. "(print:$number_of_spanks)...well, you //are// the birthday girl --" Just then, there's a sharp cry from downstairs. Both Michelle and Sarah turn quickly to the door. "Oh, that's right!" Sarah exclaims. "The Mistress wanted to see you! I was so caught up in your birthday preparations I nearly forgot..." //You DIDN'T TELL ME?!// Michelle nearly screams. Instead, she checks her dress in the mirror to be sure she's presentable, smooths it down at the back, and rushes into the hall. [[Continue|STORY 25]]

//It's Guinan. The woman in the water -- her creamy, cocoa-brown skin and amber-tone eyes. She's younger, and some of her features have blurred...but there, beneath the swaying pines, Michelle realizes it. The dream logic is inescapably clear. Guinan is beckoning to her, holding one arm over her breasts. Michelle paddles forward, reaching the a depth where she can't quite stand. She sinks into the water, the unbelievable comfort of it making her muscles untense, and even the remnant pain in her bottom seems far away. She drifts forward, kicking her feet, no longer reaching the silt -- then Guinan gathers her into her arms. Guinan looks down and says something that, over the rush of the waterfall, Michelle cannot hear. But she somehow registers the warmth of her tone, the kindness of her smile, and she knows what happens next. She closes her eyes softly and can feel Guinan coming closer for a kiss. But as soon as their lips touch, Michelle senses something wrong. Something under the water. Her eyes open, and she sees Guinan's eyes are open too -- expectant, as though waiting for her to realize something...it's strange, but she doesn't feel afraid. Instead, she feels more relaxed than ever, as though suspended in a womb. She sighs delightedly, the warmth of the water coaxing her into it. She sinks down into Guinan's caress, her soft skin warm and welcoming. She hears Guinan's voice in her ear, but it's more distant than it should be, and louder too, like someone shouting for her to -- ==><== ----- <== // "Get //up!// Get up at //once,// you filthy girl!" Janet Winters is throwing aside her bedsheets as Michelle blinks herself furiously into reality. She hardly has time to cry out before her Mistress has rolled her over and is propping her up on her elbows and knees. "Making such hideous little sounds -- you //naughty// girl!" she exclaims. There's a vien standing out on her forehead from her rage. "We are going to teach you a proper lesson this morning, aren't we, Governess Troi?" she asks over her shoulder. The Governess nods reservedly -- a sure sign that Michelle is //truly// in for it with this punishment. (if:$enema is 1)["And since you seem to enjoy your spankings so much, we've another disciplining in mind..." [[Continue|ENEMA]]](else:)[ [[Continue|SPANKED AFTER ENEMA]]]

Michelle is powdered, diapered, and dressed more quickly than her brain can even register. Only when Sarah Danes passes her in the corridor, a pile of laundry in her arms, does her situation sink in. The maid smiles at the cadet as you would at a small child and says, "Why Missus, so pretty in pink today!" Michelle looks down. //I hadn't even realized my dress was pink//...she'd been more focused on the diaper. Then Sarah pouts exaggeratedly. "But I hear your bottom isn't so pink today, is it?" She tuts, shaking her head. "Mustn't have naughty dreams, Michelle!" Without a word, Michelle passes. At the top of the stairs, she stops. //Am I...*used* to this now?// she thinks, gripping the bannister. She's wearing a diaper and a pink dress that hardly covers the red welts on her thighs. This morning's punishment -- surely not the last of the day -- is already...//Accepted,// she thinks, realizing the word. //I've...accepted it...// She bites her lower lip. She has to keep biting to hold back a grin. ==><== ----------- <== At the breakfast table, Guinan and Janet Winters talk about "adult" things that Michelle doesn't listen to. She's not interested...and besides, she can barely concentrate with the searing pain in her bum. She mostly wishes she could have some coffee. She rubs her eyes. Only once do her ears prick up. "I think I'll take a bath tonight, again," Lady Guinan is saying. She smiles her peaceful smile. "It was so //lovely// before." Michelle could swear that Guinan's eyes are resting on her as she sips her tea. Maybe it's just in her mind. Either way, Michelle can't help but stare at Guinan, even after her gaze has past. //She's...she's *really* here...// Michelle thinks. She'd almost forgotten completely that Lady Guinan is the //actual Guinan// from the Starship Capital! She finds herself wondering at this anew: //How did she GET in here? And *why*? Is the Guinan in my dreams the real Guinan too? And --// "Michelle," Janet Winters says sharply, snapping her out of her revelry. "It is //horribly// impolite to stare." She narrows her eyes. "Are we to have another lesson again, so shortly after the last?" "N-no, mistress," Michelle squeaks. "Then excuse yourself and go play." Michelle is //more// than willing to obey. [[Continue|EXPLORE (DAY 5)]]

(if:$time < 2)[//I don't think Guinan is taking a bath yet,// Michelle thinks. //She'll probably wait until later tonight...// [[Back|EXPLORE (DAY 5)]]](else:)[(set:$bath_scene=1)Michelle goes up the stairs and down the long dark corridor, lined with sepia photographs of distant relations and some framed decorations -- medals from the Great War, paintings of nauticall landscapes -- and finally slows when she hears, from the master guest bathroom on the left wing of the house, the sound of water softly lapping at the edges of a tub. She creeps closer to the door and notices, to her surprise, that it's partially ajar. The air here is humid, and Michelle can see flickering candlelight. She hears the water slough up to the edge of the tub and she stops in her tracks. She hears a satisfied humming noise, and through the gap in the door she manages to see Guinan reclined in the tub, the lines of her face soft with pleasure, her breasts gently submerged....//Just like in my dream!// Guinan is facing a small window at the far end of the bathroom and her face is in profile. Michelle could probably lean up against the door and use the keyhole to peek in for a better look without being noticed. Her heart pounds. Her stomach is turning over, and her loins burn with lust. But...does she dare? [[Peek]<peek| [Leave]<leave|]<choice|{ }(click:?peek)[(replace:?choice)[Michelle can't help herself. She leans close against door and puts one eye to the keyhole. With her other eye closed, the image of Guinan is clear -- and precisely in time! Because, at that exact moment, Guinan gives a little sigh of contentment, leans forward in the soapy water, and pulls the drain. She sets the bath brush down on a shelf on the wall beside her, then reaches around behind herself until she finds her plush towel. Then she holds this out of the water as she stands, slowly, the water sloughing off her clean body in a shimmering cascade. Michelle's eye widens as her breasts rise out of the water, her dark purple nipples at stiff attention. Guinan's lovely gowns conceal a full-bodied hour-glass form, and her navel is pleasantly flat, fine hairs forming a soft downward slope to the dark, finely trimmed hairs of her pubis, which curl in wet ringlets around -- -- //Oh-Oh my god// -- Michelle's jaw drops open as Guinan's lower half rises over the water and the edge of the tub. Her heart begins to race, and her pupils contract. Between Guinan's toned thighs, where there ought to have been a a soft flatness and perhaps the peeking lips of her vulva, there is instead a massive cock. Nearly as large as Michelle's forearm, flaccid and uncut. A single vein wraps around the shaft like a wooden vine, and as Michelle watches, it swings like a pendulum as Guinan takes one step out of the tub. //Sh-she's...// Not exactly //male// -- there are no testicles Michelle can see. And there's nothing masculine about the wet and dripping form now standing at the side of the tub, unraveling her towel. But in Michelle's very, very limited experience with male anatomy, that //has// to be the most spectacularly huge member she's ever //seen.// Even now, as Guinan turns to face the doorway, unaware of Michelle's eyes on her, the sight of her cock pointing at her is enough to make her gasp aloud. Which is precisely when Guinan looks up. "Who's there?" Michelle feels her throat seize. She moves back from the keyhole, but her legs are frozen in place. "Is there someone there? Sarah, is that you?" The sound of wet footfalls. Michelle is sitting back on her knees, paralyzed with fright. Helpless. The door is flung open to reveal Guinan, now wrapped in her plush white towel. She looks down on Michelle, and her narrowed eyes flash. For a moment, nothing is said. The candles flicker as a cold draught passes. Michelle reaches frantically around her brain for an excuse, an apology, //something, anything!// "I-I-I..." Michelle stammers. "Yes," Guinan says at last. She straights, pulling the towel up on her breasts. Her voice is low and dangerous. "You. I suppose you got an eyeful, didn't you?" "I- Yes, but -No, I mean, I -" Guinan tuts softly, which is enough on its own to stop the fumbling words in Michelle's mouth. "Spying on your guests in the bath? What would Mrs. Winters say?" A half-smirk begins to form, her mouth twitching softly. "Perhaps we ought to handle this ourselves." Michelle swallows hard. Then, she's abruptly pulled inside by her wrist, and the door slams behind her, cutting off the sound of her scream. [[Continue|SPANKED FOR PEEKING]]]]{ }(click:?leave)[(replace:?choice)[Michelle can't imagine what Janet's punishment for spying on their guest in the bath would be, but she doesn't want to have to find out. //Not today,// she says, stepping away from the door. //Lady Guinan will have to stay in my dreams.// With that, she turns from the door and leaves. [[Continue|STORY 29]]]]]

Michelle's mind is still reeling as she makes her way back through the corridor and into the main wing of the house.(if:$guinan_relationship > 0)[//Guinan is a...a...// She's heard of it before. In some deep space constellations, people find them very desirable. //Futanari...I think that's the word...//] She absently smooths the back of her dress as she walks, lost in thought. "There you are." She's snapped out of her daydreaming by a sharp voice that could belong to no one other than Janet Winters. She approaches from the shadowy hall holding a lamp and wearing her casual, evening attire. The soft fabrics cling to her slim waist and her broad hips, her breasts are pressed together by the closing of the gown. "I've been looking for you. It's time for supper. Then, straight to bed!" ==><== *** <== When Lady Winters had said it was //time for supper//, what she had apparently meant was that it was time for Lady Winters to have supper and for Michelle to watch. She had lost her right to supper that morning, and the mistress had not forgotten. So Michelle sits with her hands folded as Lady Winters eats a sumptuous pork chop with asparagus and a glass of red wine. Her stomach growls. (if:$enema is 1)[Lady Winters sits up, dabs her lips politely, takes her wineglass, and says: "So, Michelle. Did you enjoy your enema this morning?" Michelle's eyes go wide, and had she been eating she would have choked on her food. She looks up, expecting Lady Winters to scold her for hearing things...but Janet is looking at her expectantly with one eyebrow raised. //Might as well tell the honest truth...// [[Yes]<yes| [No]<no|]<answer|(click:?yes)[(replace:?answer)["Y-yes, mistress," she says. Her mistress frowns. "Hm. Pity. I'll have to find a punishment you don't enjoy so much." She sips her wine nonchalantly, then places the glass down. "You know, it can be very hard to discipline a masochist. You know what a masochist is, dear?" "Y-yes, I--" "Someone who enjoys pain," Janet answers as though Michelle hadn't spoken. "Humiliation and pain." She takes up her glass again and looks towards the window. "I could tell, you know. As I was sticking that tube into your arse...so red from so many spankings..." She shakes her head. "I could tell how it pleased you." Michelle opens her mouth...but no words come out. "You //will// learn discipline." Now Janet speaks firmly, looking into Michelle's eyes across the table. "You //will.//" Michelle can only swallow in silence.]](click:?no)[(replace:?answer)["N-no, mistress," she says, her face burning. Janet Winters smirks as she lifts her wine glass to her lips. "Good," she says. And that is all.]]] At last, Mistress Winters pushes back her chair. "Alright -- time for your bed time. Let's go, then, come along. Your Governess will tuck you in." [[Continue|STORY 30]]

Governess Troi comes in swiftly and takes Michelle by the hand. "We'll use the squatty potty and have a bath," she says, leading Michelle through the doorway. Michelle's heart sinks. She opens her mouth to say she doesn't need to go, because after all she didn't have supper, but...at that exact moment, her stomach growls. She feels her tummy rolling, and she clenches her cheeks in alarm. //Wh-what's happening?!// she almost cries out. Then she remembers: //the coffee!// "Oooohhh," she says, hopping from foot to foot as they walk, with seemingly intentional slowness, but the stairs to her bedroom. Governess Troi looks down and raises her eyebrows. "Oh, dear," she says, biting back a smirk. "It seems you won't be making it to the potty after all." "N-no, I c-can --" Michelle's face burns hotly as her belly rumbles once more. "W-we can use the p-potty, I j-j-" She stops, standing pigeon-toed on the steps. //Oh god...oh my god this can't be --// //Pbbbbbhhhtttttttttmph// Michelle thinks she's going to pass out from the humiliation as her diaper fills and she, helpless, stands in a frozen half-crouch, ears bright red, eyes closed, blushing deeply, and cursing coffee straight to //hell//. "Oh, dear," Governess Troi says, not sounding //nearly// as sympathetic as her words imply, "seems you've had an accident, hm? Come now, let's not make a mess -- we'll get you to your room, get your changed, then have a bath..." Michelle drops her head, allowing herself to be led and trying not to smell the mess she's made, or to cry from the embarassment of it all.(if:$guinan_relationship is 1)[..when suddenly, a voice interrupts. "Actually, Governess, would you mind if //I// put our darling Michelle to bed tonight?" Guinan steps out from a doorway into the corridor, smiling demurely. For the second time in this brief span, Michelle's heart sinks. "I have some things to share with Michelle, if that's quite alright." Governess Troi seems surprised -- and, to Michelle's eye, perhaps a little disappointed -- but, a consummate professional, she would never deny a guest such a reasonable request. "Of course, Lady Guinan," she says. She passes Michelle's hand over to her. "She'll need a fresh diaper, of course, and to be changed into her pajamas. Let me know if you need anything at all." "Oh, I think we'll do just fine," Guinan says. "Just fine." [[Continue|SPANKED BY GUINAN]]](else:)[ Governess Troi sighs. "Let's get you a bath and a fresh diaper, then..." Then, gripping her wrist a little more tightly: "And don't think you're getting off without a spanking for this, naughty girl." //Oh, I didn't think I would...// [[Continue|ENDING OF DAY 5]]]

(if:$ending is "goodgirl")[Guinan takes Michelle up from the floor, cradles her, and kisses her softly on her face. She kisses beneath Michelle's eyes, kissing away her tears. Then she works her way down to her Michelle and kisses her tenderly on her lips. Michelle savors the kiss like water in the desert. She has never tasted anything so sweet. She's given a quick bath, mostly to clean up her messy bottom, before being diapered and led back to bed. Guinan cuddles her, still naked, her member at half-mast against Michelle's thighs. Despite the tear tracks on her cheeks, Michelle can't wipe the smile from her face. At last, it's time for sleep -- and it couldn't have come soon enough, because Michelle is more tired than she's ever been before. Guinan brushes her hair off her forehead and gives her another kiss before dressing and turning off the lamp by the bedside. "Good night, my good girl," she says at the doorway. "You did //so good// tonight..." But Michelle is already fast asleep.]{ }(else-if:$ending is "badgirl")[Guinan pulls Michelle roughly to the bathtub for a hard scrubbing, especially of her sensitive bottom, between her cheeks. Michelle cringes as whines at the hardness of the bathbrush bristles, which only makes Guinan scrub harder. Then Guinan puts her in a fresh diaper, but not without a last few savage swats from the belt. //ffffWACK!// "Mmmpha!" //fffffffWACK!// "Oooowwiiieeeeeeee!" "Stop your whining, you bad girl, Guinan says sharply as she fastens Michelles diaper over her (print:$bottom) behind. "Go to sleep, now -- don't let me catch you awake!" //You won't,// Michelle thinks wryly. She's never felt this tired before in her life.(set:$soreness=$soreness+1) Guinan dresses, turns out the lamp, and goes to leave. At the doorway, Guinan turns, and with a glimmer in her eye, she says, "Until tomorrow, my naughty girl. You certainly learned your lesson tonight..." But Michelle is already asleep.]

"//This// will teach you," Janet says, biting her lip in concentration as she places Michelle's hands flat on the bed in front of her. Behind her, the Governess is unraveling a long tangle of polythene tube from a red rubber bladder on a rolling stand. She tests the nozzle, holding it to the light as a wet spurt of clear water jets out. Michelle feels a droplet of the water hit her naked back: it's warm, the sort of temperature you'd take a bath in. But she can immediately tell that this water //isn't// for bathing... "A relatively new form of punishment, suggested to me by a headmistress I'm acquainted with -- stick your bottom out, like so," Lady Winters continues. "She says they've introduced it as part of their discipline programn at their Reformatory Academy and it's doing wonders already. If it can help //those// naughty girls, I should hope it can help //you//," she says. With that, she takes the nozzle from Governess Troi, who has lubricated it with a thick smear of petroleum jelly. "So it opens like this, then?" she says, pointing to the valve. "Quite right, madam. Just twist to the left." Michelle glances up at her, sees the downward tilt of her eyes, the slight smirk on her lips. She presses her face into the bedspread, whimpering softly in anticipation. "Good," the lady of the house says. Then Michelle feels her bottom being spread apart, cool air ticking her arsehole as Lady Winters uses her thumb and forefinger to part her (print:$bottom) cheeks. There's a slight pressure, followed by a startling //thwop// that might have been more in Michelle's mind than in the actual room -- it's an undeniable sound, though, the sound of the nozzle's wide nose going in, fitting securely between her buttocks. Then there's a soft vibration as the valve is turned, and warm water begins to flow into Michelle, filling her up in the most unusual way imaginable. "G-ggaaaahaaa!" Michelle can't help but squeal. She squirms as the water pushes in -- first in spurts, then in a long, uninterrupted flow. Soon, she feels full to bursting. With every slight move, she's afraid she'll let loose in a humiliating rush... "There, now," the Lady says. "That should do it. How much is that, Governess Troi?" "About half a gallon, Madam." "Lovely." She pats Michelle's bottom, and Michelle's eyes go wide in terror. "I can't change your perversions, you naughty girl," she purrs, "but I can teach you //self-control.//" The pressure is immense, and as Lady Winters removes the nozzle from her bottom with another soft //thwop//, Michelle gasps as a trickle of water escapes and trails down the inside of her leg. It seems so unfair to be punished in this way, and just for having a dream...but does she dare complain? [[Whine|SPANKED AFTER ENEMA]] [[Be good|AFTERMATH]]

(if:$enema is 1)["M-mistress," Michelle wimpers. She scissors her bare feet, and her full belly lurches. "I-I-..." Janet Winters kneels beside her, level with Michelle's eyes. Her lips are pursed, eyes glittering. "I-I can't hold it!" Michelle blurts out. She kicks out behind her like a stubborn mule. Janet raises her chin. She looks down as though she had just confirmed some suspicion: her eyes are almost...//triumphant//. Michelle knows she's in for it now -- but she simply can't help it. Another small squirt of water jets out her backside, renewing the crimson flush of humiliation in her face. "P-please!" she cries. "I-I'm sorry! I c-can't --" "Oh, I'll give you //sorry//," the mistress says through clenched teeth. ]Janet yanks open a drawer in the nightstand and snatches out a pearl-backed hairbrush, cherry-wood with dark finish. Before Michelle can even cry out, Janet has brusquely pulled her over her lap. Over Janet's knee, all of the sudden, Michelle is struck with a realization: //For the first time,// she thinks, almost in a daze, //it really feels like I'm getting a spanking from my *mother*...// She can't decide whether it's because Janet is hardly wearing more than a silk slip under a bathroom, or because she's sitting at the edge of Michelle's bed, or because she still has curlers in her hair -- //Or maybe I've just been too long in this freaking machine// -- but something about this spanking just feels...more //natural//... Until, that is, the spanking actually begins. //THWACK! FWACK! FWACK! THWOCK!// Every stinging //smack// is a thunderclap of fiery pain, flattening Michelle's buttocks and making her gasp in soundless agony. The hairbrush //erupts// against her already (print:$bottom) bottom like cannon fire, and the fusillade of reports puts a 21-gun salute to shame. Michelle is wailing before she even realizes it. She shuts her eyes tightly, tears rolling down her cheeks, feeling the patient gaze of the governess on her as her bottom dances beneath the belows: //FWOCK! FWACK! FWACK! FWACK!// Michelle grips the bedsheets. She shuts her eyes more tightly. She tries not to imagine her bright buttocks beneath the heavy wooden back of the hairbrush, dancing and jiggling helplessly against the assault. //FWOCK! FWACK! FWOCK! FWACK!// Failing in this, she wails.(set:$soreness=$soreness+2) "Waaaaaa//haaaaaaahaaaAAIIIIIIIIIIIIEEE!//"(if:$enema is 1)[ The pain is so great that she forgets, for a moment, that's she's been filled up with warm water. Then, suddenly, she remembers. The first //spurt// is like a fountain jet, almost elegant in its arc. The second is more like a spray. The relief of losing that warm water is so great that Michelle wants more, but the humiliation makes her face darken to nearly the same vermillion shade as her behind. She sobs, and another mighty //CRACK// against her left buttock sends her jolting forward, howling in pain and surprise. "Take this girl to the potty before she makes //more// of a mess," Janet Winters declares in disgust. ][[Continue|AFTERMATH]]

(if:$enema is 1)[The Governess steps in swiftly, but without a trace of hurry in her step. She lifts Michelle -- who feels the water in her tummy //swish// and //glub// -- and, with her foot, pulls the now-familiar squatty potty out from under the bed. Michelle has never been so happy to see it in her life. As she fills the pot, her tears of pain and humiliation mingle with tears of relief and satisfaction. The Governess gives her a few stern //swats// with the cane as she's releasing the last of the water -- the sounds alone are enough to make Michelle want to start crying anew, much less the new stinging welts from the rattan cane -- and the lady of the house stands, dignified, wiping her hands on the towel that is then used to wipe Michelle's raw behind. As she reaches the door, she glances back. ]At last, this morning's punishment has come to an end. Michelle can hardly even think straight -- her smarting bottom throbs mercilessly. As she stands, the Governess watches her coolly from the door. "Make sure she's diapered, Governess Troi," she says. "Only then can she join Lady Guinan and I for breakfast." "Of course, Mistress. Right away." "And Michelle," Janet adds as she's stepping through the door. "You're going to bed without supper this evening. We'll see if an empty belly helps distract your mind from these...//perverted// dreams."(if:$enema is 1)[ //Just so long as it's not full from the enema again,// Michelle thinks with a hiccuping sob. She rubs her bottom, touching gently between her cheeks. Governess Troi goes to empty her chamber pot, and Michelle sighs deeply. //The day has only just begun...//] [[Continue|STORY 27]]

Michelle hurries through the corridor with her head down, lost in thought. (if:$explore is 0)[She's thinking about Guinan...thanking about the dream she had last night. Guinan in the pool, naked, her full breasts floating, her skin as smooth as satin, the color of chocolate. Turning to face her. Each time she imagines it, a warm sensation spreads through her...//And Guinan had said she'd be taking a bath today,// Michelle thinks. She bites her bottom lip. But then, even as she's imagining it, Guinan's strong face and flashing, purple-dark eyes are replaced by the soft, pale features of the red-headed girl next door. The neighbor girl. The girl who saw her being caned, swinging from the limb of the tree. //She said...she said that she gets spanked too,// Michelle thinks. Then she rolls her eyes, wincing: //Definitely not as much as I do, though...only I get that kind of special attention...// Special attention. The phrase brings to her mind something she'd pushed away. //My birthday,// she thinks. //It's coming in two days. And Sarah Danes had said the lady of the house had big plans.// She bites her fingers nervously. //I can only imagine what sort of big plans those are...(set:$explore=1)] It's still early yet, and she has no lessons today. //I'd better keep myself busy...as long as I stay out of the Mistress' way, I'll be fine...right?// What should Michelle try to do now? (unless:$bath_scene is 1)[[[Try to find Guinan bathing|STORY 28]] ](unless:$redhead_scene is 1)[[[Go find the red-haired girl|SEE SPANKING]] ](unless:$birthday_scene is 1)[[[Ask Sarah about birthday|LEARN ABOUT B-DAY]]] (if:$explore is 1)[[Have lunch]<lunch|(click-replace:?lunch)[It's about time for some lunch, and Michelle goes to the dining room to find that the table has been set for her with sandwiches and -- //Could it be?// -- fresh coffee! She eats and drinks to her heart's delight, for once not having to worry about a sudden scolding, as the other women of the house have taken their tea elsewhere. When she's full, she leaves her plates on the table. //There are *some* advantages of this house...maid service is definitely one...// She smiles secretly to herself, wondering if she'll be "spoiled" by having her meals cooked and her room cleaned for her when she finally returns to reality. Then her mouth quirks, and she rubs her (print:$bottom) bottom: //No...not spoiled...//(set:$time=$time+1)]]

It's another sunny day. The grass is wet, and the willow in the yard drips from recent rainfall. But now the clouds are gone, and the blue sky greets Michelle with a kiss of warm wind.(set:$redhead_scene=1) She doesn't see the red-headed girl over the fence. She finds a gate at the back of the yard that creaks when she opens it. It leads to an alleyway between their houses. She follows a waist-high wall on a curved path to the back walkway leading to a pleasantly furnished porch and patio: a stone table glistening wet, a folded sun umbrella. She moves cautiously, as though her governess were about to leap out of the hedges at any moment and scold her for sneaking off... //M-maybe I should get back,// Michelle thinks, looking back towards her house. //I didn't tell anyone I was --// Just then, Michelle hears a sound that makes her ears prick up. It's a wet, heavy //thwack//, followed by a high-pitched shriek and a scolding tone that can only mean one thing. Michelle peers at the door and sees that it's actually wide open. It seems that a maid was here collecting the cushions off the patio chairs and forgot to close the door behind her. The result is that Michelle can see straight into the dimly lit living room, where a glimpse of white flesh flickers into view. Annabelle is fully naked, her hair wet, is being pulled across the living room. Despite being young, Annabelle has a fully figure: perky breasts with pink nipples, full hips, a narrow waist, and a dark trail of pubic hair between her fair thighs. //She must have just been in the bath...// -- until she was yanked out by her mother, a woman in a purple dress wearing a pearl necklace and her black hair in a tight ponytail. The red-headed girl squirms, her naked body glinting in the sunlight, as her mother, weilding a charcuterie board, pushes her down over the back of her chair and gives her chubby round bottom a hard //smack//. //CRACK!// "Owwwww//aaaahaaa!// M-mum, please!!!" "Don't you 'mum' me, young lady! I leave you with a list of chores, both today //and// yesterday, and //nothing// gets done!" Another blistering //swat// makes the poor girl wail, a red mark blossoming on her pale behind. "What were you even //doing// --" //CRACK!// "-- all of that //time?!// Who were you //with?//" //THWACK! THWACK!// "OOOOWWWWWWWWW!" Michelle sees the flash of the paddle and hears the thunderous force it the reverbrating //WHACKs//, and she can't help but wince. Her bottom seems to twinge in sympathy...and her...//elsewhere// twinges too. //S-she really knows how to give a spanking,// Michelle thinks, biting her bottom lip. //M-maybe I could...noooo...// [[Watch]<watch| [Leave]<leave|]<decide|(click:?watch)[(replace:?decide)[Michelle purses her lips and watches in silence as the red headed girls bottom changes color beneath merciless //whacks// of the paddle. First, it's a sort of rosey red -- then the marks start to welt, taking on the deep scarlet of marischino cherries, so red and sweet that Michelle can almost //taste// them. The red-head girl struggles at first, kicking and protesting as her cheeks are beaten hard enough to give Michelle a glimpse of the dark, puckered hole between. Her thighs jiggle as she stamps her feet, and her wet hair sticks to her shoulders and flails about her face. Then, as the spanking progresses into later stages, she accepts her fate: she takes //whack// after belting //whack//, and blubbers apologies between. Watching Annabelle's firm buttocks be punished makes Michelle more aroused than she'd like to admit. She even starts to squirm uncomfortably as Annabelle's mother scolds her, the red-head only replying with hiccups, gasps, and sobs. When Annabelle's punishment is finally over, her mother rubs her hand over her bright red left buttock, then, over the right. Satisfied, she pulls Annabelle away from the door. "Now then, quit your whining...you've got laundry to fold!" Michelle stands, still staring, dazed, long after they leave. Only after blinking herself out of her trance does she finally realize it's time to go home. [[Continue|EXPLORE (DAY 5)]]]](click:?leave)[(click:?decide)[Michelle turns and quietly retraces her steps to the end of the lawn. //It's the right thing to do,// she says, fighting the sense of disappointment. //I wouldn't want her spying on *my* spanking//... Then again, that hadn't stopped her that one day with the caning. She can still remember that dizzying sway from the end of the rope, her arse on //fire//, white-hot lines... She shakes her head. //The right thing to do...// [[Continue|EXPLORE (DAY 5)]]]](set:$time=$time+1)

//I need to find out what I'm in for with this "birthday" celebration,// Michelle thinks. //I'll go find Sarah Danes...//(set:$birthday_scene=1) ==><== ------ <== Sarah Danes, it turns out, is //more// that willing to talk about the celebrations. "Oh, it's going to be such //fun!// You'll be wearing the cutest little outfit -- Governess Troi picked it out for you, and your mother agrees you're going to look simply //marvelous//! I think so too, of course, and I'll be laundering it tomorrow so I can show you, maybe. Your neighbors will be invited -- that neighbor girl I've seen you chatting with? Everyone will be so pleased. We'll have cake, all sorts of things...and games, of course." She blushes without meeting Michelle's eyes, and Michelle finds herself wondering: //What *kind* of games?// But she doesn't have time to ask, because before she can, Sarah turns, talking in a quick, conspiratorial whisper. "It's up to you how the day goes, Michelle. It all comes down to what you tell your mother. Lady Winters will ask you, after you've had your morning spanking: what type of birthday do you deserve? A //good girl// birthday...or of a very //bad girl// birthday. Your party will depend on what you choose, so think it over, alright?" Michelle winces. "M-morning spanking?" "Why yes," Sarah says, smirking. "Got to start the day off right, haven't we? And it will be given by yours truly." Michelle groans. Not that the thought of a spanking from Sarah Danes is so awful on its own -- of the women in this household, her spankings are maybe the least of her worries. No, the reason Michelle is feeling a bit queasy is because Sarah specified that she'd be delivering the //morning// spanking...surely the first of many of that day. And even still, a trill of excitement courses through her as she turns from Sarah Danes and, blushing fainting, leaves the pantry. The thought of a day of attention and all that will bring from her harsh "mother," the strict Governess, and the beautiful Lady Guinan is enough to make her face hot. //Every girl looks forward to her birthday,// she thinks, almost laughing out loud. //Even me...// [[Continue|EXPLORE (DAY 5)]](set:$time=$time+1)

"So, you know my secret now?" Guinan says as she pulls Michelle to the edge of the tub. She lets the towel fall, and her naked body glimers by the candlelight. She sits at the edge of the tub, and Michelle hardly has time to grunt as she's thrown over Guinan's lap. She feels air brush her back as her dress is flipped up, then her diaper is unpinned and yanked down, dropping down her slender white legs. "I suppose you must feel very powerful, then?" She snorts as she takes the bath brush from the shelf. "Well...maybe not so much //now//." //Definitely not now,// Michelle says. The diaper falls to her ankles, shedding off of her like the husk from an ear of corn. Her bottom half is fully bared, her (print:$bottom) behind naked beneath Guinan's fingers, and she tenses her butt cheeks together, bracing as she feels the shadow of the bath brush cut across her. //FWOCK!// A sonorous, echoing blow. The acoustics in the bathroom make this first heavy smack //ring// in her ears, even as her eyes fill with tears. //FWOCK!// "Ooow!" Another smack, this to the left buttock, the hip pressed to Guinan's naked belly. Michelle clenches and squirms, but the pain is immense. Guinan pins her in place with a hand on her back. //THWOCK!// "Oooooowwaaah!" She cries out, vision bleary, kicking madly. The hard wooden back of the bath brush hasn't the slightest give or pliance to it, and se can feel every inch of it emblazoning its mark on her heinie. She can also start to feel the tube between Guinan's legs beginning to stiffen, rising, prodding her belly. Her spanking continues for what feels like an eternity of //THWOCKs!// singing off the tile, beating her welted bottom into wobbling shapes, casting shadows on the stone tiles and making her pussy throb and swell with the sheer //excitement// of it, the //thrill// of being over Guinan's lap, feeling her half-hard cock pressing against her stomach, the press of her hand on her back. //CRACK! THWACK! THWOCK!// Michelle whimpers, crying aloud, then hiccups a sob as the pain becomes too much for her to bare silently, her bottom a burning mass of hot red welts. Guinan puts down the bathbrush with a soft clatter, then says in a low voice, "I bet you're //still// curious, aren't you? Since you were so very //curious// about me...curious enough to //spy// on me while I'm in the bath..." She practically drops Michelle off her lap, then takes her roughly by her chin, turns her head to face her. Michelle spits out back hairs that are stuck to her tears and drool. She sputters, hiccuping, her flaming bottom hot against her calves as she leans back, kneeling before Guinan as though she were about to... //Oh, no...//(set:$soreness=$soreness+3) As the realization Dawns, Guinan grins down at her. With one hand still on her chin, she takes the other hand and strokes her tremendous, hard cock. "My curious cadet," she purrs. "You won't be using that mouth to tell Janet Winters about my...little secret..." //Definitely not little...// Michelle thinks, looking at the glistening tip of the porcelain hard cock before her. "But I think we can find another use for now...can't we?" Guinan gives her a Cheshire cat grin and moves her hand to the back of Michelle's head, taking a handful of black hair. //Oh GOD --// "W-wait! I --//uglcuk!//" [[Continue|BLOWJOB]]

"Soooo curious," Guinan says as Michelle chokes on her massive cock, eyes watering, mouth full of the salty taste. "Now we've got a secret together, don't we, cadet? And isn't it fun to share a secret?" "H-huck!" Michelle gasps as she's drawn off of Guinan's shaft, lips closing around the tip like a soft kiss. She looks up at Guinan with eyes full of tears -- tears of //apology//. Of //gratitude//. A strand of saliva hangs in a glistening arc between her lips and Guinan's cock. She feels Guinan pressing the back of her head again, and she obediently opens her mouth, sticking out her tongue, taking as much of Guinan as she can... She knows this is a punishment -- she can feel as much in her hindquarters, her seared (print:$bottom) tushy now resting on her splayed feet. She knows she's being disciplined for spying, warned to stay in line...and yet, Michelle can't remember any other time in her life where she felt so aroused, so full of prickling sensuality. Every touch, smell, taste is bliss, and even the sheer //girth// of the cock in her mouth makes her gush and overflow. She reaches down to touch herself, unable to resist the near-painful culmination of her lust. Guinan sees her and snatches her hand. "Oho, no you don't, naughty girl," she says. "This is for //me//." She claps Michelle's hands to the base of her cock and Michelle whimpers, her sight blurry, hot tears spilling down her cheeks, the soreness in her bottom and the aching in her loins blending into a stunning cocktail of exquisite pain. Before long, as she's working her head up and down (with Guinan's coaxing grasp to help) with her tongue and throat caressing Guinan's member tightly, Michelle feels a jolt she can't place. She looks up, drooling, at Guinan, who has dropped her head back. Guinan sighs ecstatically, but Michelle only manages a confused, "Hnnngh?" Too late, Michelle's eyes widen with recognition. She feels Guinan's cock pulse once, twice...and then her mouth begins to fill with sticky cum. Her first instinct is to pull back, but she feels Guinan's hand guiding her to stay in place, so instead she closes her eyes. Ropes and ropes of semen fill her mouth, the taste ineffable and salty. Guinan takes her cock out tenderly, and Michelle sees its already beginning to soften. Eyes burning and cheeks bulging, Michelle looks up at Guinan, who only gives her one word of advice. "Swallow." She does. The load goes down her throat slowly, and she burps softly. Guinan smiles. "Good girl." She leans forward, and with a flick of her thumb, rubs semen off the corner of Michelle's parted lips. She gives her a loving smile, then pats her cheeks. "I hope you'll keep this secret, Michelle." Michelle nods vigorously. "Good. Very good. Now...I do believe that it's //someone's// bedtime." Guinan leans forward. "Don't worry," she whispers. "After I'm dressed, I'll come and say good night."(set:$guinan_relationship=1) And with that, Michelle is excused. She takes her diaper up, smooths her dress down, and leaves, closing the door behind her, feeling Guinan's smiling eyes on her all the while... [[Continue|STORY 29]]

Michelle is guided by Guinan to the door of her bedroom, her face flush, hobbling uncomfortably. Just as Guinan puts her hand on the knob, Governess Troi calls out from behind them. "Oh, and Lady Guinan," she says, coming over with the freshly washed chamber pot outstretched. "Here's her potty if she still needs to go." Michelle whimpers. Guinan smiles. She takes the potty with one hand, the other still clamped around Michelle's wrist. She thanks Governess Troi and pulls Michelle inside. Once inside, Guinan's movements resume the same frantic energy they just had. In one fluid motion she pulls Michelle's dress over her head -- only having to tug once as the waistline caught at her breasts -- and cast it aside. She then pushes Michelle onto a leather settee in the corner, lifts her legs easily, and undoes the clip on her diaper. Michelle's eyes water as the soiled diaper is taken off her, and she isn't sure if it's the smell or the humiliation making them sting... "Such a naughty girl," Guinan says in a low voice as she carries the diaper by pinched fingers to the bathroom. She closes the door, and Michelle hears a rush of water. Guinan returns without the diaper, holding instead a hard wooden hairbrush. "Over my knee, girl. You deserve a spanking." She grins, and the wolfish look in her eyes makes Michelle's stomach sink. Michelle is briskly taken over Guinan's knees for a swift, hard spanking with the heavy back of the brush. She kicks her foot out as the first swat //splats// against her tender heinie. She throws her head back as the fourth and fifth, in rapid succession, bring a feverish heat to her hindquarters like a fanned fire. She feels tears pricking at her eyes, and she gasps as another //CRACK// sends her buttocks dancing, her knuckles whitening on the bedspread as Guinan delivers every punishing //swat// at a perfect clip, fast enough to clear every other thought besides //I'm being spanked// from Michelle's mind, and yet still slow enough for her to savor the pain. Her sex starts to feel damp, then moist enough to leave a stain on Guinan's lap. //I'm naked and I'm being spanked// //FWACK!// //I'm naked and I'm being spanked// //THWOCK!// //I'm naked, over Guinan's knee, the real Guinan// //CRACK! WHACK!// //And I'm being spanked// //FWACK! FWACK! FWACK!//(set:$soreness=$soreness+3) "Oh //god!// Oh my //gooooood!//" With either pleasure or agony, she doesn't know which, Michelle starts screaming out of time with the horrible beat against her buttocks. "I-It hurts so -- AAHHH! -- Ithurtssobadithurtssobad! P-Pleasssee! I'm sorry! I'M SOORRRYYYYEEEEHHAA!" Finally Guinan puts the brush to the side, having left purplish welts on Michelle's (print:$bottom) behind, and takes a breath -- but then she leans in to Michelle's ear and says something that makes the hair on Michelle's neck stand on end. "Oh, honey," she purrs. "Your pretty bottom doesn't even //know// 'sorry'. Not yet...but tonight, I'm going to teach you." [[Continue|FUCKED BY GUINAN]]

Double-click this passage to edit it.

Guinan stands so quickly that Michelle is practically thrown to the floor. Before she falls, though, Guinan snatches her by her wrist and pulls her close. She kisses Michelle hard, and Michelle can taste Guinan's passion, salted by her own tears...then Guinan steps back, undoes the leather belt that holds her cloak together, and disrobes. For the second time today, Michelle finds herself gaping at Guinan's massive and fully erect cock, the button-hole at the tip glistening with dew. Michelle's tear-stained eyes go wide, and she finds, dimly, the thought crossing her mind: //How did I even fit that in my mouth?// "On the bed, kneeling," Guinan snaps. She takes her cock in one hand, weilding it like a club. "Back to me," she snarls. Then she gives Michelle another wolfish grin. //Oh, fuck.// Michelle, her entire body quivering, kneels on the bed on all fours. A moment later she feels a hasty motion behind her and drops her head. Something brushes against her tender heinie, her (print:$bottom) behind glowing in the dim light. Then her head snaps up, as she feels a pressure against her backdoor. "G-gaah!" she cries out in surprise. "Oh, yes," Guinan growl, as though she were answering the question stuck in Michelle's throat: //Are you putting it in my ass?!// And so she does. With one ferocious thrust, Guinan //rams// the entire length of her cock into Michelle's messy bottom, slapping against Michelle's bright red ass with a determined grunt. "//Umph!//" "AaaaaAAAAIIIIIEEE//EEEEEEE// --" Guinan is //massive//. Michelle feels as though she were being split open, and her legs splay out, toes curled, fingers gripping the bedspread like talons as her entire ass is filled with Guinan's slippery cock, and her mind goes blank, buzzing like a stereo system abruptly unplugged. Guinan pulls back and thrusts again with practiced skill. She fucks Michelle with all of her might, slamming against her backside as though trying to hammer her into the bed, or otherwise hammer her own cock into Michelle's backdoor hard enough to become one with her forever. The shriek dies in Michelle's throat and her eyes cross. //Phapp! Phapp! Phapp! Phapp! Phapp! Phapp!// The rhythm of her fucking is like a metronome, perfect and clean. //I could listen to this noise forever//. She's drooling out the side of her mouth, she's lost in another world. //So...fucking...// She can't think of the word. She can hardly think of //any// words. Just like her spanking, the only phrases that her mind seems able to conjure up: //I'm being fucked in the ass.// Thrust. //Fucked in the butt.// Thrust. //All the way up my butt...// Thrust. //I'm being fucked in the ass.// Thrust. //Guinan is fucking me in my ass...// Never in her life has she felt so completely dominated -- so completely //owned//. She belongs to Guinan, heart and sole. //I'm hers.// Guinan has made her //hers//. Without warning, her entire body tenses, and Michelle begins to cum. She makes a strangled, gasping noise, followed by a delighted shriek as she cums a second time, her brain shattered by the pleasure, and in the afterglow her muscles are more relaxed than they've ever felt before. Her body contracts around Guinan's cock, and Guinan gives a guttural laugh. "Haah//erk!//" And then begins to cum. Michelle's eyes widen still further, and her mouth forms an //O// as rope after rope of Guinan's cum fill her up, overflowing out of her rosy red hole, spilling out and down her thigh as Guinan pulls herself out with a squelch. Her face is planted firmly in the bedsheets, her ass high in the arm, her knees bruised from the force of her fucking. She feels like a vase. Like a beautiful vase full of beautiful flowers, as her hot red bottom leaks Guinan's white cum. "Come here." Still dazed, Michelle is guided away from the bed to where Guinan placed the potty on the hardwood. She's gently but firmly pressed down so she's kneeling over it... "Empty yourself," Guinan says. Michelle hears the soft clink of the leath belt. She blinks back tears. //ffffWACK!// "Oowwwwwwwwww!" Michelle squeals as Guinan's belt comes down against both buttocks, rippling them over the potty. She whimpers, instinctively putting her hands on her head. //ffffffWACK!// "Ngggahaa!" She closes her eyes, tears spilling, and pushes hard. She hears a spurting sound. //fffffWACK!// "GgggggggggggggaiiiiiiiiiiiiiIEEEEEEEEEEE!" The wailing seems to help her push. Another spurt, an ugly noise. Michelle pants, groans, moans, and tenses...//I-it's coming --// Then, Guinan steps back, and says in a pleased undertone: "Goooood." A series of wet sounds follow as Michelle flushes out the shit and cum, globs of it that hit the potty with heavy //slaps//, and in the horrible relief of cleaning herself out, her bottom tensing and spitting, Michelle cums one final time before falling forward, her face on the floor again, her knees spread and thighs quaking, bottom in the air. She breathes like she's run a marathon. She tastes salty tears rushing down her face. Guinan's footsteps are heavy on the hardwood. She circles around in front of Michelle making her look up pathetically from the floor. "Now, Michelle, says, folding her arms. "I'm only going to ask you this once." She cocks one eyebrow down at Michelle, although all Michelle can see is Guinan's stiff cock slowly becoming flaccid, drained. "Do you want to be put to bed like a good girl...or a bad girl?" [[Good girl]<good| [Bad girl]<bad|]<choice|(click:?good)[(replace:?choice)["G-good girl..." Michelle stammers. "I'm...a g-good g-girl." Guinan looks down at her with a broad grin.(set:$ending="goodgirl") "Yes, you are," she says softly. "Yes, you are." [[Continue|ENDING OF DAY 5]]]](click:?bad)[(replace:?choice)["B-bad girl..." Michelle says uncertainly. "I'm...a g-good g-girl." Guinan looks down at her with a mischevious smirk.(set:$ending="badgirl") "Yes, you are," she says softly. "Yes, you are." [[Continue|ENDING OF DAY 5]]]]