THE ATONEMENTS OF JOANIE: JOANIE THE CHATTERBOX

BY PENT

Part 6

This is about Joanie, twelve years old, who has atoned for the
terrible wrong that she committed many years ago - by submitting
to a series of excruciatingly painful penances . . .

Afterwards, back at school again after the Christmas break,
Joanie finds herself getting more and more deeply into trouble
and - for her own good - she has to suffer more agonizing
punishment.

I returned to Miss Potter's School for Ladies after the Christmas
break, and was startled to find the school work had become easy
-I now seemed to remember everything the first time I heard it in
class or read it from my textbooks . . . I couldn't understand
why the teachers went so slowly, and I filled the time with my
new-found pleasure of talking to whoever was next to me . . .

The teachers were forever telling me to be quiet and gave me
punishments when I didn't stop talking: detention, writing lines,
weeding the school vegetable garden . . . but really nothing
could stop my new-found excitement of enjoying the lessons and
then talking with my friends as soon as I'd understood what the
teacher was telling us, while she went on to repeat it again and
again for the slower girls . . .

About a month into the school term, though, at the end of dinner
one Friday evening, Uncle Pent told me that he wanted to talk to
me before I went to bed - First, I was to go up and start on my
week end home work - Then at 9 o'clock after having my bath, I
was to come down to see him . . .

Well! At last nine o'clock came and I went down in my nightdress,
dressingown and slippers.

Uncle Pent was sitting in one of his leather covered padded
armchairs:

"Joan (and I knew it meant trouble as soon as he called me
'Joan') Stand here, in front of me: I have had a letter from Miss
Potter, the Principal of your school."

"She tells me your work had improved out of all recognition, and
you are much quicker than you used to be in understanding what
the teachers are telling their classes . . . but she says you
start to talk to your neighbor as soon as you understand what the
teacher is explaining."

"Nothing the teachers have been able to do ever stops your
incessant chatter during class!!"

"Miss Potter asks me to punish you in any way I see fit, to stop
your talking in class . . . because you are disrupting the
lessons for the other girls, and it can not continue . . ."

"You know what she means, Joan: The parents of other girls have
been complaining that their daughters can't learn their lessons
because you are talking all the time in class . . ."

"You will have to leave Miss Potter's School for Ladies unless
you stop your chattering during lessons!"

"Tell me, Joan: Is Miss Potter right in what she says about your
talking all the time in class?"

" Uncle Pent, it's since the Christmas break -the teachers seem
to go so slow -and I've come to like the other girls so much more
. . . I can't just sit and twiddle my thumbs in class while the
teachers go over the lessons again and again . .."

"Joan, I am going to ask Miss Potter to move you into classes
where your mind will be stretched more than it is now."

"I think you could go into a more advanced French class; And I
know you are only twelve, but you could start Latin."

"I'll ask for you to do more Algebra too, so you'll be ready to
begin Calculus next year . . ."

"In fact I'll ask Miss Potter to put you into more difficult
classes for everything . . . and that'll give you more to think
about while the teachers are talking."

" But that's not all, Joan: You must learn to turn the leaves of
your book and read more about what the teacher is saying, once
you've understood what she is trying to explain."

"Because, after you atoned during the Christmas break I know your
mind feels as though it has woken up bright and fresh after a
long sleep. But if you keep talking in class . . ."

(And Uncle Pent SHOUTED):

"YOU WILL BE ASKED TO LEAVE THE SCHOOL! ! !"

"And we don't want that to happen, do we?!"

and I shouted back:

"NOOOOOOOOO ! ! ! ! !"

"Well, I'm going to do my best to help you to remember that,
Joan! I want you to go and bend over the back of that padded
leather arm chair and I am going to make your bottom so sore that
you will always remember: NOOOO talking in class!!!"

"And it's no use crying . . . go and bend over the chair!"

As I bent over the round padded leather back of the armchair I
noticed that it was the other one . . . not the chair I had bent
over for my atonement which had a bump on the back that had
pressed up into my pussy . . .

This one had an odd groove from front to back in the top of the
padded leather back: They must have made them specially that way
for Uncle Pent . . .

Penty tied my wrists and ankles to the legs of the leather arm
chair just as he had done when he and the three men had helped me
to atone . .

Then he switched off the lights in his study so the dark
oak-paneled room was lit only by the flickering flames of the
fire . . .

He briskly lifted my nightie and tucked the hem up into the neck
and arranged the mirrors just like before so I could see
everything that he was doing (and my bare white bottom bent over
the back of the leather arm chair, waiting for its punishment)
except the flames of the fire didn't give much light in the room
to see by . . .

Penty picked up a black paddle from his desk and slid it along
next to my face so I could feel and smell . . . he was going to
use black leather to hurt me.

"There, Joan, this is what I am going to use on your bare bottom!
I think you should kiss the black leather paddle before I put it
to work!"

And I gave the sinister black leather a loud kiss so he would
hear it: I didn't want to make him more annoyed with me at this
point ! ! ! !

And then Uncle Penty hit the black leather paddle: CRACKKKKKKKK !
! ! ! on the leather back of the armchair ""-

I quaked with fear at the sound . . . I could feel myself burst
out in a cold sweat of plain terror . . .

"Joan, I want you to count out loud each time the paddle hits
your bottom! One Uncle Pent . . . Two Uncle Pent . . . Three
Uncle Pent . . ."

Then he brought the black leather paddle hard on my bare bottom
and I . . . . . . . . YELLLLLLLED ! ! ! and burst into tears.

"NOOOOOOO ! ! ! Oooone Uncle Pennnnt! Choking on the words And he
waited a loooooong time """"-then . . . . . . . BAMMMMMMMMMMMM !
! ! ! again "OOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHH ! ! ! Twooooooo Uncle Pennnnnnnt
!" I just managed to get out. And so it went on . . . and it
HUUUUUUUUUUUUURT terribly every time he did it . . .

Each swipe of the black leather paddle stung awfully as it went .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .CRAKKKKKKKK on my poor tender
twelve year old bottom and I just managed to jerk out between my
sobs and tears:

"Fiiiiiive Uncle Pennnnnnt!" or whatever the count had got up to
. . . and I saw in the mirror: my bottom completely changed shape
each time Uncle Pent beat it with the paddle . . .

My firm round cheeks were mushed completely flat by the black
leather-covered paddle then they wobbled around a few times
before they got back their smooth round curves again -

More red after each BAMMMMMM on my poor poor bottom . . .

"Siiiiix Uncle Pennnnnnnt!" and each time the leather paddle went
CRACKKKKKKKKKK!!! on my poor soft twelve-year-old cheeks . . .

I gave a mix of SCREEEEEEAM and YELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL !!! and my
tears flooded down onto the seat of the leather armchair
-O-H-H-H-H-H-H! it H-U-U-U-U-U-U-U-U-U-U-U-R-T-T-T-T ! ! ! ! ! !

And each time he beat my bottom with the leather paddle Penty
shouted: "JOAN . . . YOU WILL NOT TALK IN CLASS!!

"Sevvvvvennnnnnnnnnn Uncle Pennnnnnnnt ! ! ! !

And he waited a long time after each BAMMMMMMMMMMM on my bottom -
before the next one - BAMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

I thought it would never end """"""""""""""""""""-

But at last Penty said, when I choked out:

"Thiiiiiirty Uncle Pennnnnnnnnnt!!!!"

He said:

"There!!! Will you remember now what will happen if I ever hear
again of you chattering in class?!"

"Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeees, Uncle Pennnnnntttt! I'll
rememememberrrrrrrr!!!!! Please don't spank me any moooooooore! !
! ! ! !"

"Good!! I am glad to hear it -because I hate doing this to you,
Joanie my love!" "And I don't want the spanking to hurt you any
longer than it need or for your bottom to show marks more than it
has to from this paddling."

"I am going to rub in some special cream to help take away the
pain now, and the marks . . ."

And I saw in the mirror he put the fingers of both hands into a
jar, and they came out covered with white cream . . . which he
then gently massaged into my cheeks . . . all over . . . gently
"gently "gently """pressing into my soft warm bottom and soon the
pain began to ease and melt away . . .

And it felt exciting.

And Penty's thumbs slid down and gently "gently "gently "rubbed
across my rosebud and down "down between my legs and onto my
pussy . . .

And I began again to have that strange and lovely feeling like I
did at the end of my atonement when I was sandwiched between
Penty and Sir John and their stiff things were siding in and out
between my legs . . . and I couldn't understand what was
happening to me and I got so so excited . . .

And I was getting strangely excited now all over again and it
felt woooooooooooonderful.

The fire had died down so I could not really see what Penty was
doing to me but it felt like his stiff thing was slippery and
sliding between me and the top of the leather padding right along
the groove across the top of the chair.

"Joanie my dearest I am so very sorry I had to spank you . . . I
do love you very much you know!

"And I am doing this to make sure you realize I will always love
you very very much . . . and he stiff thing slid in and out in
and out in and out rubbing against my pussy . . . while Penty's
tummy banged again and again against my sore sore bottom hurting
me terribly each time his stiff thing slid in against my clitty .
. .

But somehow the pain of his banging against my sore bottom only
made me more excited . . .

I started to wiggle my bottom up and down against Penty's stiff
thing as it rubbed against my clitty . . . until I was suddenly
out of all control. . . I couldn't stop what I did . . . I was
thumping my bottom up and down as fast as I could go as I got
more and more my excited """"-and then I suddenly spaced out with
the most wooooooonderful feeling as if I was floating away in a
gorgeous hazy cloud up into the sky . . ..

I must have passed out because the next I knew Penty was laying
me down on the cool sheets of my bed and pulled the top sheet
over me and murmured as he kissed me gently on my cheek:

"There . . . my lovely Joanie!! I had to beat you for your own
good my darling."

"But you know I truly love you most dearly!"

"I love you too, Uncle Penty ! ! !"

"Sleep very well And when you wake in the morning remember: YOU
"WILL "NOT "TALK "IN "CLASS ! ! !"

And next morning I DID remember why I had such a very sore bottom
and I remembered as it ached and hurt all that week-end and I
remembered it for all the rest of the time I was at Miss Potter's
School for Ladies ""-

Going back to school on Monday I found it was terribly sore to
sit at my desk in class . . .

I passed Miss Potter in the passage between classes and overheard
one of my teachers saying to her: " . . . really finding it very
difficult to sit in class!"

Miss Potter sent for me after lunch that Monday.

When the secretary let me in Miss Potter was standing beside her
desk with a severe-looking dress buttoned all the way up the
front.

After the door shut she walked over and turned the key ominously
. . . Then back at the window, standing behind her desk:

"Joan, your teachers tell me you appear to have a sore seat this
morning?!"

"I'm always concerned for the health of my students -come over
here to the window . . . you do have long legs for twelve years
old, don't you? . . . Now turn round and stand facing *this*
corner of my desk"

"I want you to pull down your drawers . . . and raise your kilt .
. and bend over the corner of my desk so I can see properly . .
."

"As I suspected -black and blue -that must have hurt a great deal
when it was done -the result of the letter I sent to your
guardian no doubt?!"

"We do not administer corporal punishment on the school premises
-we leave that to a student's parents or guardian -but we do need
to know when it has been carried out!"

"No! Don't move! Stick your bottom out more . . . I need a
photograph for your private file "(CLICK!)"

"So!"

"A Polaroid "so no photographic shop will see it! I am the only
person to look at a student's private file, so you have no call
to look so concerned, Joan! !"

"Now stand up and press yourself against that corner of my desk
so it holds you steady -I need another photograph of your bottom
with its bruises while your cheeks are full and round . . ."

Miss Potter's desk had a knobbly wooden carving at each of its
corners: I'd heard teachers say how dangerous they were -

"You can catch your clothes and tear them on these knobbly little
wood carvings at the corners of Miss Potter's desk!"

"The carvings are all different heights at the corners of the
desk, too so if you don't catch a pocket on one and tear it then
you rip your clothes on another one!"

But Miss Potter said they were copies of ancient misericords from
the choir seats of a monastery in Europe.

The top of each knobbly shape sloped downwards away from the
desk, towards floor and Miss Potter said they were very valuable
. . .

Well, Miss Potter was wanting me to press myself against one of
these knobbly little wooden carvings on the corner of the desk in
front of me . . . and I felt the shiny little wood carving slip
snug between my legs, and as I pressed forward the top of its
knobbly surface came right up to press against my clitty -

It felt so good . . . and I pressed harder against it . . .

(CLICK!)

"Good, Joan!"

"Now tell me something my dear . . ." and she put both her hands
flat on the cheeks of my bottom! and pressssssssssed against them
""-I gasped and winced with the pain . . while my clitty was
being pressed hard against the knobbly wood carving . . . . and
it felt lovely . . . . at the same time as my bottom was hurting
most awfully . . .

"Does it hurt you when I do that?"

"Ahhhhhhhh! Yessss!!! Miss Potter!!!!! It hurts a lot!!!"

"Well now, my dear Joan, we do not beat wayward students in this
school but when this discipline has been done at home . . . I
sometimes like to "rub it in" like thisssssssssss ! ! ! !"

And she dug her fingers deep into my cheeks and kneaded my bottom
and prodded my cheeks and probed my sore flesh as though she
wanted to hurt my bruises as much as possible . . .

Her fingernails were long and sharp and dug into me like the
talons of an eagle . . . It was agony for me and my poor bruised
bottom . . .

"OOOOOOWWWWWW! Miss Potter!!"

"Naughty girl!!" and she was rhythmically pushing me forward and
letting me go so my clitty slid back and fore against the knobbly
wood carving on her desk . . .

"Naughty girl!!"

Pressssssssssss

" OOOOOOWWWW! Miss Potter!!" and release

"Naughty girl!!

Push Poke Prod

"OOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWW!! Miss Potter!!!!" and relax

"Naughty girl!!!

Rammmmm Squish Pinch

"AAAAAAAGH! OOOOOOOOOOOOH!! Miss Potter!!! and let go.

The agony of her finger nails sinking deeeep into my poor bruised
bottom was terrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrible . . . But I was starting
to get all excited again from the little knobbly wooden carving
that rubbed hard again and again against my clitty . . .

I was getting sooooooooooooooo excited down there -but I am sure
Miss Potter never realized what she was doing to me!

I made to turn my head, but she quickly said:

"Look to your front Joan!!

Then I could only feel the fingers of one of her hands digging
into me -everywhere all over my bottom and underneath in between
my legs too as she kept like chanting:

"Naughty girl!"

"Naughty girl!"

"Naughty girl!"

"Naughty girl!" and dug her fingers into my soft warm bottom and
I shouted out every time in pain "and excitement -as the shiny
knobbly little wood carving pressed and rubbed against my clitty
. . . again again again. . . .

"OOOOOOOOOOOOHHHH!!!! Miss Potter!!"

"OOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!! Miss Potter!!!!"

And her movements got faster and faster and it hurt my bottom
dreadfully and my clitty was making me more and more excited . .

It must have been hard work for her because I heard Miss Potter
gasping for breath right in my ear then a big heaving sigh from
her and at that moment I shuddered with dizzy ecstasy as I
struggled for breath too, pressing my clitty haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaard
against the little knobbly wood carving on Miss Potter's desk.

My knees turned to jelly and I flopped forward my boobies flat
down on the desk with my bottom sticking out again stunned and
unable to move . . .

Then I faintly heard Miss Potter calling again and again while
she pinched my bottom to revive me . . .

"Now Joan stand up you can pull up your drawers again and put
your kilt down and turn round . . ."

At last I began to wake up . . .

"Joan! Do you hear me!! arrange your clothes properly and turn
around!!!"

When at last I moved and did as she said turning to face her Miss
Potter's face was bright red and her chest was heaving. I noticed
two or three of the buttons had come undone, lower down on her
dress -and I vaguely wondered about how that had happened . . .

Miss Potter composed herself a bit and began to lecture me:

"Mr. Embury is coming to discuss your work with me tomorrow, and
we may decide to make some changes in your classes, so you will
find the work more difficult and have less time to even think
about talking . . ."

"Meantime, you know what the result will be if ever you talk to
other students in class again!"

"Please do not do it!! I like you Joan and I do not want to write
letters that get you punished like this!"

"You are not to discuss with anyone what happened in here today!!
And, Joan, I very much hope I never have to write another letter
to your guardian like the one he received on Friday!"

But she had a funny look in her eyes . . . I thought she had
seemed to enjoy what she had just done to me and would really
like to do it again as soon as she could -

I had better watch out ! ! ! !

I stumbled out of Miss Potter's study not quite knowing what I
was doing and went and sat in the lavatory for a long time then
washed my face and went to my classroom and sat very quietly
"quite unlike me "until the last bell.

Penty did go and talk with Miss Potter about my classes and I was
moved into more difficult ones . . . and I had much less time to
talk in class -even if I wanted to -which I didn't . . .

But I got excited for years afterwards whenever I thought about
the punishments given me by Uncle Penty and Miss Potter and what
they had each done to me afterwards . . .

Dear darling wise Uncle Penty: he had steered me away from
disaster one more time -and set me on the right course to enjoy
my wonderful school.