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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)]]

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{(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:$soreness >= 8)[(set:$bottom="unimaginably sore")]}

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)]]}** ]

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//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 waterfull, 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]]]]

16 year old Michelle Yen is a closet spanko. She keeps this a deeply hidden secret from all but Ship's Counsellor Deanna Troi, who has been bringing the girl to her quarters twice a week for long, hard , severe spankings. Then the other day, with Deanna's help, Michelle wrote up a Holodeck Program that would take Counsellor Troi's place for "scratching her itch". With the agreement that Deanna would come into the Holodeck at least once a week and spank Michelle in place of the "Governess Troi" hologram that was part of the program Michelle would be using for at least 2 hours daily. The Adventure begins on the first time Michelle enters the Holodeck and initiates the program. Something goes wrong with the ship's computer relays, and thus the girl is unable to end the program after just 2 hours, and ends up spending an actual week trapped in it. The program is based in 1940's WWII era Earth, specifically England. All the men are off fighting in the war, and thus its an pure F/f setting. Michelle has set herself up as the orphaned daughter of a Japanese family that has been adopted by an extremely strict British widow. She adopted the girl just to have a scapegoat to punish for her husband's death, and the brutal bombings of England. Michelle will be regularly punished by: -Widow Janet Winters *Hologram* (whom she must always formally address as Mother at all times), -Governess Deanna Troi *Hologram* (whom is to be addressed only as Governess ) -Sarah Dane *Hologram* (The chamber maid/ladies maid that is the personal maid for Michelle), and "Old Lady Guinan" *Actual Guinan, who has slipped in as she is an avid spanko and secretly has the hots for Michelle* (Always to be respectfully called Miss) Positions include: -Over one thigh https://spankingart.org/wiki/Over-on...ouce_fille.jpg -Straddling one knee https://spankingart.org/wiki/Straddl...alteste_23.jpg -Hung by ankles from a tree limb (or rafters) https://neptsdepths.blogspot.com/201...-mandingo.html -Diaper position - Pillows under hips, ankles pulled almost to chin https://www.cloudigirl.com/diaper-po...yODAuanBn.html -Bent over back of chair. -And straddling a toddler potty while using it. Implements: Hand, leather soled plimsoll, Mason-Pearson Hairbrush, rattan canes (nursery size for use on anus and between buttocks, Senior School size for buttocks and thighs. (Paddle mentioned above), and doubled leather belt. **Also same kind of paddle in implements, large wooden with 12 holes in 4 rows of 3. She is always dressed in little girl's clothing like she is 4 or 5, and treated like a very, very bad little girl at all times. She has a weak bladder, and thus is a bed wetter, and pees herself at the drop of a hat. After 2 days of this, Mother orders her to be diaper punished from then on. This entails being diapered 24/7, and getting spankings every time she needs her diaper changed. The only way she is allowed to use the toilet during diaper punishment is to beg her Mother, or Governess Troi, or the Maid Sarah for an "Potty Spanking". This will entail her having her bottom bared, then kneeling straddling a toddler potty. She will then be spanked from the time she gets in position, while she is peeing and pooping, and whilst her bottom is wiped clean. Then re-diapered. All spankings will be very severe. Punishments are for bed wetting, peeing her panties, not having a clean room, being tardy for lessons, not having perfect scores on lessons, being too loud at play, not being perfectly polite at all times, not eating everything prepared for her at meals, getting her clothes dirty playing outdoors, and often requesting a thrashing for being a very, very bad girl who deserves it.

"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. #THE END...FOR NOW

(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]]]]

Star Trek Themed CYOS Text Adventure: 16 year old Michelle Yen is a closet spanko. She keeps this a deeply hidden secret from all but Ship's Counsellor Deanna Troi, who has been bringing the girl to her quarters twice a week for long, hard , severe spankings. Then the other day, with Deanna's help, Michelle wrote up a Holodeck Program that would take Counsellor Troi's place for "scratching her itch". With the agreement that Deanna would come into the Holodeck at least once a week and spank Michelle in place of the "Governess Troi" hologram that was part of the program Michelle would be using for at least 2 hours daily. The Adventure begins on the first time Michelle enters the Holodeck and initiates the program. Something goes wrong with the ship's computer relays, and thus the girl is unable to end the program after just 2 hours, and ends up spending an actual week trapped in it. The program is based in 1940's WWII era Earth, specifically England. All the men are off fighting in the war, and thus its an pure F/f setting. Michelle has set herself up as the orphaned daughter of a Japanese family that has been adopted by an extremely strict British widow. She adopted the girl just to have a scapegoat to punish for her husband's death, and the brutal bombings of England. Michelle will be regularly punished by Widow Janet Winters *Hologram* (whom she must always formally address as Mother at all times), Governess Deanna Troi *Hologram* (whom is to be addressed only as Governess ), Sarah Dane *Hologram* (The chamber maid/ladies maid that is the personal maid for Michelle), and "Old Lady Guinan" *Actual Guinan, who has slipped in as she is an avid spanko and secretly has the hots for Michelle* (Always to be respectfully called Miss) Positions include: Over one thigh https://spankingart.org/wiki/Over-on...ouce_fille.jpg Straddling one knee https://spankingart.org/wiki/Straddl...alteste_23.jpg Hung by ankles from a tree limb (or rafters) https://neptsdepths.blogspot.com/201...-mandingo.html **Also same kind of paddle in implements, large wooden with 12 holes in 4 rows of 3. Diaper position - Pillows under hips, ankles pulled almost to chin https://www.cloudigirl.com/diaper-po...yODAuanBn.html Bent over back of chair. And straddling a toddler potty while using it. Implements: Hand, leather soled plimsoll, Mason-Pearson Hairbrush, rattan canes (nursery size for use on anus and between buttocks, Senior School size for buttocks and thighs. (Paddle mentioned above), and doubled leather belt. She is always dressed in little girl's clothing like she is 4 or 5, and treated like a very, very bad little girl at all times. She has a weak bladder, and thus is a bed wetter, and pees herself at the drop of a hat. After 2 days of this, Mother orders her to be diaper punished from then on. This entails being diapered 24/7, and getting spankings every time she needs her diaper changed. The only way she is allowed to use the toilet during diaper punishment is to beg her Mother, or Governess Troi, or the Maid Sarah for an "Potty Spanking". This will entail her having her bottom bared, then kneeling straddling a toddler potty. She will then be spanked from the time she gets in position, while she is peeing and pooping, and whilst her bottom is wiped clean. Then re-diapered. All spankings will be very severe. Punishments are for bed wetting, peeing her panties, not having a clean room, being tardy for lessons, not having perfect scores on lessons, being too loud at play, not being perfectly polite at all times, not eating everything prepared for her at meals, getting her clothes dirty playing outdoors, and often requesting a thrashing for being a very, very bad girl who deserves it.

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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]]

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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]]

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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, AB/DL, or other fetish content, please close out of this game. All scenarios are fictional, 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|STORY 11]](set:$show_header=1)(set:$day=2)(set:$soreness=4)

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==><== #ONE WEEK IN THE HOLODECK by Waferborn Based on a Milford Weeks Commission [[Begin|STORY 1]] [Start from DAY 2]<day2|(click-replace:?day2)[(set:$show_header=1)(set:$day=2)(set:$soreness=4) [[Wake up on the second day|STORY 11]]]