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Part 02

Jenny 02

'Who's out this week?' called Miss Hunt, coming into the locker room.
'Anderson, still in that cast; Rogers and Schwartz, colds-- and what about
you, Jenny?' 

'I've got my period.'  Miss Hunt rolled her eyes.  We were not encouraged
to skip gym because of menstruation. I went up to her. 'It's really
heavy,' she said in a low voice. 'Oh, all right,' she said. 'But no
library pass. You can sit on the bench and watch.'
I took off my shoes and walked throught the foot-bath. The swimming
instructor was Mrs. O'Connor, a large cheerful woman who had been known to
smack a few wet bottoms as a joke or in mild reproof. 'All right,
juniors,' she yelled, and a dozen bodies hit the surface of the water. A
minute later I saw Miss Hunt standing in the door to the locker room,
looking at me.  She raised a finger and beckoned me over. 'Look, Jenny,'
she said. 'I want to show you something.'  I followed her into her office.
She pointed to her desk, where a class record-book lay open.'What do you
make of this?'  She put her fingers on a date in March: six weeks ago.
'Jenny Evans out: mp,' she read out loud.  This tells me you were out then
for your period too. Tell me: are your periods very irregular?' I thought
for a moment.  Thar wasn't my period either, of course: I never took time
out for an actual period. That must have been the time that Ellen took me
over her knee and spanked me so hard that my bottom and thighs were
bruised all over. I must have hesitated too long, because Miss Hunt said,
'Jenny, if you are not being truthful with me, I will have to take that
very seriously.'  I looked at Miss Hunt.  She was young, and very cool for
a gym teacher, we all thought: she kept her long black hair in a French
braid and wore the same type of unisex athletic clothes that we liked. Yet
I knew that she was fully capable or sending me to the Disciplinary Board:
everyone held the school's Honor Code in something like awe, and lying to
a teacher was at the top of the list of sins.
I have never been able to lie well-- one of the reasons why my bottom was
constantly at the mercy of Ellen's switches, slippers and straps. 'Okay,'
I told Miss Hunt. Report me.  I _was_ lying.'  I turned to walk out.
'Wait a minute, Jenny,' she said quickly, then added: 'I don't understand
this.  You're an athletic girl.  You like gym.  Why would you lie to get
out of it?' 

I turned back to her.  A truthful but euphemistic answer came to me. 'I
have sores.  A... a skin condition.  On my body.  It's embarrassing.'

'Have you been yo a doctor for it?'

'Well, no.'  I was not going to risk any further lying. 'But I know it's
just something chronic.  Recurring.'  I produced this technical-sounding
language with some pride. 

'This won't do at all, said Miss Hunt. You'll have to see a doctor.  And
bring me a note to prove you've done so.'  She was about to wave me off,
but she stopped.  She must have seen a look of dismay on my face. She
seemed ready to become really angry.  Desperately I blurted out: 'Look,
Miss Hunt, I'll _show_ you.' Her eyes widened for a moment but she nodded.
 I turned around and lifted my dress.

'Oh, my god, Jenny.  Who did this to you?'

'My stepmother, Ellen.'

'Good God. What had you done?'

I dropped my skirt and answered, 'I came home late on Saturday night.  I
let Ellen do it, actually.  I could complain to my father, but spankings
to other things, like grounding or taking away my allowance.'

'That's not what I'd call "spanking,"' said Miss Hunt. 'It looks more like
you've been whipped... flogged.'

'It looks worse than it is,' I said. 'She uses a bunch of little switches
and they make these bright red marks, but they don't really cut the skin.'

MIss Hunt sat down in her desk chair and swivelled around to face me.
'Come here,' she said, 'and let me look again.' I walked over, turned
around and lifted my dress. 'May I?' she asked, and I said 'Yes,' although
I wasn't sure what she was going to do. With both hands she grabben hold
of my panties and tugged them down by the waistband. As she pulled them to
my knees I shivered and felt my bottom cheeks tense: that reaction again.
I jumped a little as I felt her finger on my bottom, tracing one of the
lines left by the whipping.

'I don't know,' she murmured as if musing to herfelf. 'This looks pretty
bad.  Does it hurt a lot?'

'It's not so bad.  I mean, it's not wonderful?'

'Here, I'll give you something for it.'  Miss Hunt got up and walked over
to the first-aid cabinet on the opposite wall. She rummaged inside for a
few minutes before coming up with a small jar. 'Zinc oxide,  Do you think
this will help?'  All I knew about Zinc oxide was that lifeguards put it
on their noses. But as long as Miss Hunt was in a kind mood I was going to
jolly her along at any cost. 'I'm sure it won't do any harm,' I said.  I
expected her to give me the jar and send me out to the locker room, so it
came as a huge surprise when she sat back down in her chair, still holding
the jar, and said, 'Over here.  I'll out it on for you.'  My panties were
still down; she had never given me permission to pull them up. I lifted my
skirt again and presented her with my bare bottom. 

'This is awkward,' she said. 'Why don't you lean over the desk.  Or
better, get across my lap.'

Bending over Miss Hunt's knee felt much different than bending over
Ellen's.  When Ellen took me over her lap I felt a certain amount of
physical fear, but also the more or less reassuring certainty that I was
about to be punished in a measures, predictable way, and that I would be
forgiven and comforted afterwards. With Miss Hunt it was more like the
feeling I had when Mark Stone, an older boy, walked me home and surprised
me by putting his arms around me and kissing me. It was a slight shock of 
unexpected physical intimacy with a person I found intimidating.  I
concentrated on keeping my thighs together so that Miss Hunt would not see
more than was necessary. But the very effort made me feel odd.  It was
like that thing about trying not to think of a polar bear in a snowstorm. 
I felt afraid that I would react the way I had when Mark kissed me, and
that I would leave a wet spot on Miss Hunt's lap. Fearing things like that
makes them happen (it's like sneezing, or the hiccups.)  I don't know
whether Miss Hunt noticed or not, at least before she took the initiative
herself.  'Jenny, dear,' she said tenderly, sliding a couple of fingers
past my bottom cheeksand into my warm moist area.  'You sweet girl' I
arched my back a little to let her continue if she wanted to, but she did
not; she just stood me up and gave me a little hug.  I pulled up my
panties. Between the greasy lotion and my own dampness it was quite wet in
there, and I realized I would have even more trouble sitting for the rest
of the day.

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