You take on the role of Samantha Stone, an FBI agent going undercover to bust a smuggler masquerading as the Headmistress of the prestigious all-girls school Girls High. Your goal is to gather evidence and bring her down, ideally without drawing her attention, getting spanked, or losing yourself in your role (pick two).
This is a gamebook, i.e. a choose-your-own-adventure with some rules to make the game more interesting than a straight multiple choice. The rules for this game are heavily inspired by the Fate roleplaying system.
Note that while your character does have a goal (collecting evidence against the Headmistress), there aren't any game overs or "good" or "bad" ends. Just different endings depending on your choices. Some endings involve you catching the bad guy. Some endings involve the bad guy escaping.
To start-the game, go to the list of possible Character Builds, select a build that looks fun and go to the first start section. You will need a six-sided die, or a website that generates random numbers between 1 and 6. Random.org is always a good choice. If you want to create your own character from scratch, read on.
Your character has seven properties: Evidence, Childishness, Soreness, Skills, Aspects, and Spankens.
Evidence is a simple counter that tracks how close you are to busting the Headmistress. You'll need 30 Evidence points to arrest the Headmistress, though there are far more than that.
A measure of how deeply you've sunk into your role as a teenager. The higher this is, the easier it will be to investigate the Headmistress without arousing undue suspicion. However, slip too far, and you might find it difficult clawing your way back out:
Your childishness can't go below 1, or above 5.
Your Soreness is a simple counter that tracks how sore your bottom is:
Your Soreness goes up as you get spanked and goes down when I tell you (so be nice to me!). Sufficiently high levels of soreness may impact the game, and not in a way that your character likes.
Your soreness can't go below 1, or above 5.
You will be periodically asked to make skill checks. Skill checks look like this:
You decide to stand and fight. Roll a six-sided die and add your Athletics to the result. If the get at least a 4, you overpower the thug. Otherwise the thug overpowers you.
There are three skills:
You get 3 points to spend on your skills. I recommend two points in one skill, one point in a second skill, and zero points in the third. So you're great at one skill, good at a second, and mediocre at the third. You can of course put one point in each skill if you want an even spread, or even put all three points into a single skill if you really want to specialize.
Passing skill checks is going to be your primary source of Evidence, so a big part of the game will be picking paths that you think will allow you to do the things you're good at, and not do the things you're less good at. Maybe you shouldn't try to talk the janitor into letting you into the Headmistress' office if you have a Charm of 0.
One thing to note: 0 does not mean you're "bad" at a skill. A character with 0 athletics is still in shape (an out of shape person would have a negative athletics), a character with 0 knowledge still has at least a college degree (you are an FBI agent after all) etc. You're just not unusually skilled compared to your peers.
Spankens are tokens that you spend and accumulate when the game tells you. They are inextricably tied to Aspects. You start-the game with two Spankens.
Aspects are facets of your character. They might be a unique skill, some fact about your background, or some facet of your personality. For example, if you're a "Military Veteran" then you spent time in the military, meaning you're very good at fighting and probably know quite a bit about how the military works.
Aspects can mean both good things and bad things for your character…
In some cases, you can spend a Spanken to invoke an Aspect and automatically pass a skill check. The game will tell you when you can do this. For example,
You decide to stand and fight. If you are a Military Veteran you may spend a Spanken to overpower the thug. Otherwise, roll a six-sided die and add your Athletics to the result. If you get at least a 4, you overpower the thug. Otherwise the thug overpowers you.
In this case, if you have the Aspect Military Veteran you may reduce your Spanken count by 1, and jump right to the success path. No need for rolling!
Of course, nothing is without its downside. Sure you might be a Military Veteran but that means you've been through the ringer for your country, and don't take kindly to being talked down to.
Sometimes, the game will offer you a compel. Effectively, you can think of this as automatically failing a check. However, rather than spending a Spanken, you instead gain a Spanken. Compels allow you to fail a check now, so that you can pass a check later. Usually (ok, pretty much always), a failed check will lead to a spanking, and sometimes might lead to other bad things.
A compel will look like this:
If are an Absent Minded Genius, then you don't realize your teacher is even talking to you until it's too late. You piss her off, and gain a Spanken.
Otherwise, roll a six-sided die and add your Knowledge to it. If you get at least a 3, you answer the question correctly, otherwise you don't.
Note that compels are optional. You don't have to take every one you see. After all, even the absent minded genius will be paying attention every now and then. That being said, taking the compel is strongly recomended. Compels are your only source of Spankens, and there will be checks you'll really want to pass.
Note that your current soreness is also an Aspect, and sometimes you'll be able to invoke or be compelled by it. However, since soreness is generally a bad thing, expect there to be a lot more compels than invocations.
You may acquire additional aspects based on the decisions you make. These work just like any other aspect. The game might compel you on them, you might be able to invoke them to pass a check, etc.
The game offers six starting Aspects, and you get to pick three.
If you wish you can take a fourth Aspect, then you start without any Spankens. Taking an extra Aspect gives you more opportunities to bypass checks, but also requires you to take more compels if you want enough Spankens to do so.
You joined the military right out of high school, and spent most of your twenties bouncing all over the world. You were honorably discharged at the end of your eight year commitment, went to college and joined the FBI in your late twenties. You're highly athletic, and know how to defend yourself. However, you also carry yourself with a confidence that comes across as arrogant and snotty when seen in a teenager. You also have a lot of pride. Pride that might get you in trouble.
You're very curious and really good at being sneaky. Is there someplace you're not allowed to be? You can get in and out without anyone ever knowing. However, you got so good at sneaking because there was never a barrier you didn't want to cross, or a conversation you didn't want to listen in on.
You are incredibly intelligent, able to make connections and have incredible flashes of insight. You also tend to lose yourself in your own thoughts, and don't always pay as close attention as perhaps you should.
You are a master with computers. You can hack into anything, break almost any encryption, debug any error. However, you've spent so much time messing around with computers, you haven't bothered to do such things as polish your social skills. You're often impatient and uncomfortable with people, and often say things that you probably shouldn't.
You're a trust fund baby. You have all the money you'll ever need, and your FBI work is mostly just because you find it interesting. However, growing up you got everything you ever wanted, and that can make you rather spoiled sometimes.
You've been acting since you were a child, and it's your greatest passion. You have no problem immersing yourself completely in your character. Sometimes though, you might find yourself doing rather…unwise…things because it's "what your character would do."
Here are a few example characters to get you started. See Aspects List for an explanation of what each Aspect means, and Skills for an explanation of what each skill means.
Once you've picked a character, jump to start to begin playing.
This Sam loves all things physical, be it sports or acting. She's charming and fun, but doesn't have much patience for books.
Military Veteran, Curious Little Sneak, Method Actor
0
2
This Sam is sneaky and clever. She can get anywhere she doesn't belong, physical, cyber, or emotional.
Curious Little Sneak, Computers Not People, Method Actor
0
2
This Sam is a spoiled rotten trust fund baby. Her parents put her in a variety of physical activities, and she loves getting dirt on other people to use to her advantage. She never bothered to pay attention in school though. Why bother, when the world's already at your feet?
Curious Little Sneak, Pretty Pampered Princess, Method Actor
0
2
This Sam is a certifiable genius. She loved school growing up, loves learning, and reading. She has dazzled professors with her flashes of insight, befuddled friends with her mastery of computers and never seems confused when it comes to academic subjects. She's also a curious little thing, and it's not uncommon to see her slipping into places she shouldn't, just because she wants to see what's there. Her social skills aren't anywhere near as impressive.
Absent Minded Genius, Computers Not People, Curious Little Sneak
0
2
This Sam is a little bit lazy. She grew up wealthy and pampered, and her natural intelligence means she never had to try to excel in school. Mostly, she enjoyed hanging out with her friends, and amusing them by mimicking her teachers and other authority figures.
Absent Minded Genius, Pretty Pampered Princess, Method Actor
This Sam is balanced. She's pretty good at pretty much everything, but doesn't really excel at anything. She has an even mix of unique capabilities.
Military Veteran, Absent Minded Genius, Method Actor
2
0
This Sam is unusually talented, even by the standards of the other Sams here. She's athletic, sneaky, intelligent, and is a great actor. She has rotten luck though, and always seems to find herself in trouble…
Military Veteran, Stealthy Little Snot, Absent Minded Genius, Method Actor
0
0
Samantha "Sam" Stone jogged down the street, her skin glistening in the hot, midmorning summer sun. That's what mother always said. Women didn't sweat. They glistened. Totally.
Sam wore a sports bra underneath a white sleeveless shirt that was a little bit too short. A pair of skintight spandex shorts clung to her broad hips and large bottom.
The shorts (in theory anyway) stopped right below her bottom, leaving her thick thighs completely bare. They had ridden up a bit with all the running, flashing a hint of rolling cheek. Her bottom was quite firm and round, but no matter how hard she tried, it always seemed to have a layer of jiggly fat over her muscle, and it refused to get smaller. Based on the way her big ass jiggled and rolled with each step, it was pretty clear that she was wearing a thong underneath her shorts. Less than comfortable (and perhaps a little embarassing), but it was laundry day (for the fourth day in a row).
Her flat, firm belly peeked out from underneath the loose bottom of her shirt. While her bottom seemed impervious to exercise, her waist responded readily. Her legs were rather short and thick, though at least those seemed to be firm muscle rather than jiggly fat.
Her short legs and shorter waist meant she barely topped five foot. Toss in a cherubic, youthful face, big blue eyes and shoulder length blonde hair (currently pulled back into a ponytail), and she looked half her age. A serious problem in her profession. Nobody took teenagers seriously, even if they were in fact thirty-somethings who'd served their country at least a decade.
She rounded the corner and slowed to a stop outside the gym. The gym was a holdover from the old military base that had been decomissioned and turned into offices decades ago. She took a deep breath and put her hands on her head, pacing back and forth a bit to catch her breath. One of her office mates, a woman about Sam's age, emerged from the gym.
"Oh good, I was looking for you," she said. "The boss wants to see you."
"Sure, just let me get showered and–"
"Now."
"But I am not even remotely–"
"'Janet go find Sam. Get her up here the second you see her. The second mind, even it means she's coming up here in a towel,'" said Janet in a pitch perfect facsimile of their boss. Her eyes twinkled.
Sam's lips twisted, and her stomach clenched. She mentally paged through her work, wondering what she'd screwed up. "I appreciate it."
"No problem, now I'm off to lunch. Good luck." Janet gave a wave and walked off.
Sam sighed and self-consciously pulled her spandex shorts back down over her bottom (after doing a quick lookaround to make sure no one was watching). Figured there'd be a towel-summons on laundry day. Granted, if she'd done laundry three days ago like she should have, she wouldn't be in this mess, but come on. Endless Adventures had a new patch out, was she supposed to not play it?
Sam hustled back to the office building. She eyed the elevator for a moment. Her legs ached, but the thought of standing in close quarters with a bunch of her officemates while she was sweaty, smelly and had her ass hanging out (her shorts had ridden up yet again) did not sound appealing. Instead she ducked into the nearby bathroom, fixed her shorts and hurried into and up the adjacent stairwell.
Not quite sure why she bothered. She had barely gone two steps before she felt the spandex slide up again and expose the undercurve of her bottom to the air-conditioned office air. She sighed and hustled up the stairs.
Once at her boss' floor, she hastily fixed her shorts again and entered the main office floor. Fortunately, hers was one of the very few offices that had resisted the whole "open floor" nonsense, so everyone was enshrined in cubicles or at lunch. So nobody saw her hurrying to the boss' office in a shirt that showed off her belly if she lifted her hands above her waist, and hips-hugging shorts that had already ridden up again.
Right. Tonight was laundry, Endless Adventures or no Endless Adventures.
She knocked on her boss' door.
"If that's Sam, come in. Otherwise, I'm very busy. Schedule a meeting," said Abigail Whitehouse from the far side of the door.
Sam took a quick look over her shoulder. Crap, a couple of folks were just stepping off the elevator from lunch. No time to fix shorts, in we go!
Sam hastily pushed her way in and closed the door. "Sorry for keeping you waiting Abigail."
The office was spacious as far as beauracratic middle manager offices go (which is to say, it could fit three people without anyone having to sit on anyone else). Abigail sat behind her desk, while a woman Sam didn't recognize sat between the desk and the door. The woman turned halfways in her chair to watch Sam come in.
The woman looked to be in her mid-forties. She was a heavyset woman, broad shouldered, broad hipped and probably six feet tall if she stood. Which meant she'd tower over Sam's five foot form. It was bad enough when men towered over her, but Sam absolutely hated it when women did too.
Abigail meanwhile was in her fifties, a slender woman with her hair (impeccably dyed brown, really you'd think it was natural if you didn't know better) pulled back into a bun. She could chew iron nails when she was angry, though she was smiling now.
Which was rather odd, actually. Every other time Abigal had towel-summoned her, it was to give her a tongue lashing that would have made her mother green with envy.
The other woman smiled when she saw Sam. "My goodness, you look like you came straight from high school track practice."
"Samantha," said Abigail. Her face narrowed and her lips took on that 'nail-chewing' look. "Watch–"
"Let her be Abby." The other woman gave Sam a sympathetic look. "It's hard to be taken seriously when you look no older than the other guy's high school daughter, isn't it?"
Sam nodded.
"So I think my comment was more than a little rude," said the woman. "Sorry about that Miss Stone."
Sam shrugged.
"Though I'd caution you to watch what you say. A smart mouth has gotten many a young lady in trouble," said the woman. "My name is Vivian Vance."
"She's here with an undercover job that I think would be perfect for you," said Abigail, her smile returning.
"Most women would kill to look fifteen in their thirties," said the woman.
"Most women don't work for the FBI," said Sam. "It's hard to be taken seriously when your colleague sees his spoiled daughter everytime he looks at you."
"That's the truth," said the woman. "My name is Vivian Vance."
"She's here with an undercover job that I think would be perfect for you," said Abigail, her smile returning.
Sam sat down in the chair next to Vivian.
"You know anything about Alexa Vain?" asked Vivian.
Sam shifted uneasily, her excitement withering beneath Vivian's sharp, critical eye. "Why yes I do. A crimeboss who specializes in smuggling Black Market Bananas. A truly dastardly villain. We think she's somewhere off the east coast of Florida–"
"Not think. Know," said Vivian. "She's taken the name Agnes Arthur, and a position as the Headmistress at an all girl's school in central-eastern Florida, not far from the coast. We need to expose her, and get the kind of irrefutable evidence that even the best lawyers can't argue away. But she has an uncanny ability to know when we're closing in on her and slip away."
"Yes, I've read all the reports," said Sam. "Compiled most of them in fact."
"Good," said Vivian with a pleased smile. "It's almost a shame taking you away from analysis. They're very well done."
Sam smiled and blushed a little.
"Anyway, we need someone who can pass for a teenager, even when face to face with someone who has a lot of experience with teenagers and knows the best damned intelligence service in the world is hunting her," said Vivian.
"And you think I can do it?" asked Sam.
"That depends on your answer to one question." Vivian pinned Sam with a baleful look. "Can you become a schoolgirl? Not act like one, not look like one, become one. If you agree to this, then for at least the next year Samantha Stone will cease to exist. You will be my teenage daughter, Susannah Johnson, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. You will got to school, do homework, dress as a teen, talk as a teen, follow the same rules as a teen, care about whatever teens care about. We will be deep undercover, zero contact with Abigail or anyone else from our current lives, and always in character. Understand?"
Sam's insides twisted. That was a lot to ask, but Sam joined the FBI to go undercover, not to sit at a computer compiling intelligence reports. "I can. I do."
Vivian grinned. "Then let's get started."
Chapter 1: Sign Up
What followed were a dizzying few weeks. "Susie" was going to start at the Headmistress' school in September, and so she had a mere 2.5 months to fully immerse herself in teenage culture. She moved to Florida, and watched teenagers at the park, mall, movie theater, and anywhere else in public they hung out. She jotted down notes on their dress (rather revealing) and speech mannerisms. She watched them at the beach (very revealing, where were their parents?). She listened to this generation's crop of boy bands until she found herself dancing instead of eyerolling. She joined whatever social media was popular with kids these days.
The first week of September found Sam and Vivian in Florida, sitting in the Headmistress' office. Sam's shoulder-length blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and a pair of sunglasses sat on her head. She wore a fitted tanktop that exposed the tops of her slightly sun-kissed breasts and stopped just below her belly button, exposing a strip of skin between her shorts and shirt. A pair of skintight spandex shorts hugged her broad hips, molded to her large bottom and left her legs completely bare. She slouched in her chair, her shins braced against the Headmistress' desk. Her sandaled feet dangled while she pretended to play on her phone, occasionally grunting when Vivian or the Headmistress asked her a question. They mostly ignored her.
She studied the room over her phone. It was a pretty bogstandard Headmistress' office. A large desk with an uncomfortable office chair behind it. A fake plant in the corner. A few windows with the blinds drawn against the hot Florida sun. Two smaller chairs sitting in front of the desk. Sam suspected there was a very slight grade to the floor, allowing the Headmistress to be just a few inches taller than her visitors.
Not that the woman sitting in the uncomfortable office chair needed the help. At about 5 foot, 8 inches she was taller than average though not as tall as Vivian. She had a slender, willowy build and a narrow, severe face. She looked to be about Vivian's age, perhaps a few years older. She wore thick spectacles and her dark brown hair was cut short.
"So, umm where did you say you moved from?" asked the Headmistress, her eyes sweeping the pair suspiciously.
"Raleigh, North Carolina," said Vivian.
"I see. And you lived there long? Neither of you seem to sport the right accent," said the Headmistress.
Sam felt a jolt of adrenaline. Crap, were they going to be blown already?
"Only a few years," said Vivian. "We've moved around quite a bit."
"Yes. She must take after the father I suppose," said the Headmistress, eyeing Sam over her spectacles.
"Adopted actually," said Vivian stiffly. "Not that that's any of your business."
"I see." The Headmistress' gaze bore into Sam. "Your game boring you my dear?"
"I'm not playing a game," said Sam testily.
"No you're not. You've been studying my office, quite intently I might add, since you came in here–"
"What's this here?" asked Vivian, leaning forward and jabbing at some of the paperwork with her pen.
The Headmistress eyes flicked to the paperwork. Sam breathed a small sigh as those sharp eyes stopped pinning her. "Oh that. Permission to let us administer corporal discipline upon the buttocks when we think it appropriate. Honestly just vestigial remnants of a different time. Nobody's given permission for over a decade, and the board just hasn't gotten around to removing it yet. Feel free to just–"
"Well, I for one am a strong advocate of 'spare the rod, spoil the child,'" said Vivian, marking the document.
"What?" The Headmistress lurched forward and snatched the document to see what Vivian had written.
If you are a Pretty Pampered Princess then the thought of anyone, but especially a teacher, smacking your bottom fills you with horrified, humiliated rage. Take a Spanken, leap to your feet, and shout angrily at Vivian.
If you are a Method Actor then you can spend a Spanken and immerse yourself enough in your role as a teenager with a spank-happy mother to just blush in embarassment and stare at your feet.
Otherwise, roll a six-sided die and add your Charm. If you roll a 5 or higher, you are able to keep your reaction to an embarassed squeak. Otherwise, you lose your temper, leap to your feet, and shout angrily at Vivian
"What the fucking fuck?" Sam leapt to her feet and glared at Vivian.
"Susannah. Violet. Johnson." Vivian grabbed Sam's waist and yanked the young spy across her broad lap. Sam gasped, her nose suddenly inches from cold linoleum. Her hands snapped out to catch herself. Her short, thick legs kicked angrily, her feet dangling helplessly. Her big bottom wobbled like jello as it fell across Vivian's lap, the skintight spandex revealing every wiggle and jiggle.
Vivian's right hand clamped down on the small of Sam's back, just below where Sam's shirt had ridden up. Her hand was strong, warm and unyielding against Sam's bare skin. Her left hand swept down and flattened Sam's right cheek, sending the soft, curvy globe into a jiggling, wiggling fit. The sharp smack of hard hand on soft bottom bounced harshly off the walls. Sam squawked as a sharp sting bloomed on her bottom.
Vivian's hand swung around and splatted Sam's left cheek.
Sam bucked and kicked. "Stop it! I'm too old for a spanking!"
"Is that so?" asked Vivian, her voice pitched to carry over the sharp sound of hand on bottom. "You certainly haven't been acting like you're too old. I tell you we're meeting your Headmistress, and you dress like you're cruising for a boyfriend. You slouch in your chair and put up your legs like you're at home on the couch. You spend the whole time just playing with your phone, barely giving Ms. Grey the time of day, and then you have the gall to swear at your mother? It's a miracle Ms. Grey doesn't just expel you right here and now."
Vivian's strong hand alternated between Sam's big, bouncing buttocks, each stroke leaving a burning print on Sam's sensitive cheeks. The thin spandex proved a poor shield, and of course Sam's thong did nothing. Sam's shorts rode up, exposing a few inches of sitspot. Vivian's hand struck the exposed skin, the skin-on-skin smack much crisper than skin-on-spandex.
Sam shrieked and wiggled frantically. Apparently her spandex had been doing a better job of protecting her than she realized. "I hope she does! I don't want to go to her stupid school anyway!"
"Well, if that's the attitude you're going to take…" Vivian's fingers wiggled into the waistband of Sam's shorts and tugged them down Sam's legs and over her flailing sandals. Sam squealed as her fleshy bottom jiggled into view, the voluminous pink cheeks left completely bare by a tiny black thong almost lost between the rippling mounds.
"No, what are you doing?" wailed Sam. She blindly reached back to grab at her shorts, but Vivian caught her wrist and pinned it against the small of her back.
"Now Ms. Grey, don't be afraid to tell your teachers to paddle her bare if they need to. Sometimes it's the only way to get a lesson through her stubborn skull." Vivian's hand struck Sam's naked right cheek, sending a rippling wave across the exposed flesh.
Sam wailed. The spanking stung bad enough with her shorts up, on the bare it took on a whole new level of pain and humiliation. Vivian however showed no mercy. She struck Sam's roiling, bucking, wiggling, bobbing bottom with swift, strong smacks. Tears of pain gathered in Sam's eyes and her protests grew thick with unshed tears, before turning into pleading. Still Vivian struck Sam's blazing bottom. Tears flowed down Sam's face, and her chest shook with sobs.
Her kicking and squirming grew half-hearted, and a few stinging swats to her thighs stopped it completely.
"Nooo, mommy please I'm sorry," wailed Sam. "Please mommy stop it hurts! Mommmyyy!"
"You mean it?" asked Vivian.
"Yes mommy yes please," said Sam.
"Then stand up."
Sam clambered off Vivian's lap. She danced in place and reached back to rub her bottom.
"No rubbing," said Vivian.
Sam snatched her hands away from her stinging bottom like they'd been burned.
"Now apologize to Ms. Grey," said Vivian.
Sam turned to face Ms. Grey. "I'm sorry Ms. Grey."
"For?" asked Ms. Grey.
"For calling your school stupid," muttered Sam. Her face grew as red as her bottom.
"And?"
"Umm, for sitting rudely and ignoring you and dressing inappropriately," murmured Sam.
"Apology accepted," said Ms. Grey.
"Now, go stand in the corner until we finish up here," said Vivian. "Hands on your head."
Sam did as ordered, painfully aware that with her hands on her head, her shirt rode up past her belly button. The only scrap of clothing she wore from halfway down her back to her sandals was a thin strip of black cloth vanishing between her bright red buttocks.
Increase Sam's Soreness by 1 level, so her bottom is now Tender.
Suddenly getting her bare bottomed spanked by her colleague in front of the woman she's hoping to arrest is extremely embarassing and demeaning. Increase Sam's Childishness by 2, so she feels like an Immature Teenager.
Also, take the aspect Spanked in the Principal's Office. With all your carrying on, there's no way anyone within ten miles doesn't know what just happened…
Sam didn't know how long she stood in the corner while the adults (other adults. Other!) talked. She periodically shifted from one foot to the other, her big bottom clenching, sending faint ripples across the red, sore cheeks.
"OK, dear I think you've been there long enough," said Vivian kindly. "Pull your shorts back up and come here. We have a few things to wrap up."
Sigh in relief and do as you're told.
The Headmistress spared barely a glance for the girl, before returning to her surprised perusal. "Well. I, umm, well."
"Of course, I will leave it up to her teachers to decide how best to discipline her," said Vivian. "They know their classroom better than I do. But make sure they know they're free to paddle her bare if they think it's necessary. Few punishments are as effective as a bare bottom spanking."
Sam's blush deepened. She stared at her phone, though she didn't see anything. She couldn't believe this. Put one toe out of line (and she couldn't imagine how she was going to investigate the Headmistress without getting up to mischief), and she'd find herself upended for a spanking. Just the thought made her feel like a child.
Increase Sam's Childishness by 1. She no longer feels like a Adult but instead just a Teenager.
"Put your phone away dear." Vivian put a hand on Sam's bare thigh. "It's well past time you start-paying attention."
Sam glanced at Vivian. That tone of voice. She wouldn't… Sam saw the firm set of Vivian's expression, felt the strong, callused fingers and broad palm pressing against her leg. Oh God, she would.
She hastily put her phone away and sat up straight. She gave Vivian an anxious smile. She wouldn't really spank her would she? No, no way. They weren't actually a mother-daughter pair. They were colleagues. Adults working together…
Sam's eyes couldn't help but stray to Vivian's large palms, and long fingers, her thick arms and broad shoulders. Ooh, a spanking from her would hurt. It'd hurt like…like…like a mother!
That thought snapped Sam back into the present, made her sit up straight and really focus on what they were talking about. The last thing she wanted was to get spanked by her "mother" in front of the Headmistress!
"Right, and one last thing," said the Headmistress. "We'll have you start on Monday, but first we'll need you to take a test."
"What? A test? Of what?" asked Sam.
"Oh just some general knowledge," said the Headmistress. "We want to know where you are, so we know if you'll be advanced, regular, or remedial. If you're remedial, you'll need a tutor."
Sam gnawed nervously on a lower lip. Both advanced and remedial sounded bad. Advanced would lead to more homework, and thus less time to investigate, while remedial would lead to a bunch of tutoring sessions, which meant less time to investigate. "Am I taking this test now?"
"Oh no, we're not going to spring it on you. You'll be taking it tomorrow morning, giving you some time to brush up a bit, scrape off the summer rust you know," said the Headmistress.
Sam smiled anxiously. Yes, "summer rust" that's totally what it was. Not "I'm a functioning adult and haven't had to think about who the 18th president was in twenty years."
"We expect you here at nine o'clock sharp tomorrow morning," said the Headmistress. "Your homeroom teacher, Miss Davidson will be proctoring and scoring the assessment. Don't be late!"
Sam nodded, though she felt sick to her stomach.
"Don't worry dear, I'm sure you'll do fine," said Vivian, giving Sam a comforting pat on the leg. "If there's nothing else, we'll get going."
"Nope. Don't forget, nine o'clock tomorrow morning, and don't be late." The Headmistress gave the paperwork a meaningful tap. Sam's bottom clenched anxiously.
"Don't worry, I'll make sure she's here on time. Come along dear," said Vivian.
Chapter 2: Placement Exam
Sam sat staring sulkily out the window as they drove home. "I can't believe you gave them permission to spank me."
"You and I both know you're going to fail if I didn't," said Vivian, putting a hair extra emphasis on the word "fail."
"I might not," muttered Sam.
"Oh please. That woman could see right through you," said Vivian.
Sam gave an elaborate sigh.
"Stop bellyaching. You need to prepare for this test anyway," said Vivian. "I know you're not remedial, and I'll be very cross if you blow this off and bomb it."
"Yes mother," muttered Sam.
The two got home a few minutes later, a cozy little two bedroom home in a quiet neighborhood with a small backyard and a large live oak tree in the center bathing the space in shade.
If you've been soundly spanked, you hurry into the bathroom to take a shower.
Otherwise, you head to your room.
Sam ducked into the bathroom, stopping by her room only long enough to grab a g-string (no way was she going to let anymore than absolutely necessary touch her burning bottom) and a bunch of soft-looking pairs of sweatpants and cotton shorts. Surely one of them would be soft enough for her molten bottom!
She stripped down and got in the shower. She whimpered as the stinging water struck her tender bottom. She futzed with the showerhead a bit and eventually found a stream that was soft enough for her. She stood there for a while, just letting the water flow over her, letting her shoulders slowly ease. She figured this would be harder than anything she'd ever done, but nothing like this.
Eventually, she took a breath and turned off the shower. She dried herself off and slid on her g-string. She took a breath, and started trying on shorts and pants.
A few minutes of yelping and dancing later, she threw the last pair of sweatpants to the ground in disgust. Sure they were soft, but they were also quite close fitting (baggy was ugly, after all), and even the softest cotton was too harsh against her bare skin when it clung so tightly.
Grumbling under her breath, she pulled her bra and t-shirt back on. She scowled down at the shirt. It ended a few inches above her hips, leaving her big red bottom completely exposed.
She picked up her clothing and peaked outside. She could hear Vivian moving about in the kitchen, humming to herself. Humming to herself! After beating her colleague raw, she had the gall to happily hum!
Sam ground her teeth together. She didn't dare confront Vivian though. For one, no idea how she could do so without breaking character, and for another her bottom hurt way too much.
Sam just sighed and hurried into her room, hastily closing the door behind her.
Grab your laptop and lay facedown on the bed.
Once Sam was in her room with her laptop open, she paused and tapped her fingertips against her cheek.
If you are an Absent Minded Genius you've already completely forgotten about the exam tomorrow. Take a Spanken, and dick around.
Sam considered her options. It had been a long time since she had done anything related to schoolwork. She might be able to swing it, but then she might not, and having to spend her afterschool hours working with a tutor on crap she learned a decade ago would seriously hinder her investigation. To say nothing of what Vivian would do. Sam shuddered, and her bottom clenched.
She probably didn't want to excel either. She'd draw attention to herself (not that Vivian's decision to let the teachers spank her wasn't already going to do that), and advanced courses were a lot of work. The more homework she had, the less time she had to investigate the Headmistress.
Her best bet was probably to tip the scales somehow to increase the chances she ended up in the middle.
If you prefer Computers Not People you can hack into the school's intranet and find a copy of the test. Then you can spend some time looking up the answers and crafting a score right in the middle. Spend a Spanken, gain the Aspect Placement Test in Hand and enjoy the rest of your day
She could try waiting until dark and try sneaking into the school to find the answer key. Once there, she could probably either just try to be sneaky, or pretend to be a parent or something. Or she could just buckle down and study the old fashioned way. This was the safest, but increased the risk she'd excel. Or fail.
Sam sighed. What to do? What to do?
Sneak into the school to find the test.
Pretend to be a parent looking for information about the school, including the placement exam.
Study like a good little student.
Sam changed into a pair of black leggings and a dark shirt. She slipped on a pair of thin shoes that were really no more than slippers with a bit of tread on the bottom. She opened a secret compartment in her desk and pulled out a small bag containing burglary tools. She slipped a dark cap and bandana into the bag. Soon as it got dark, she hefted the bag over her shoulder and headed downstairs and for the door.
"Finished studying dear?" asked Vivian from the living room. Vivian had a laptop on her lap, tap-tapping away.
"Not really. Having a hard time focusing, so I'm heading to the library," said Sam.
"Is the library still open?" asked Vivian.
"They're open until 9 I think," said Sam.
"Ok. Make sure you're home by 9:30, bedtime's 10," said Vivian.
If you are a Method Actor, you can protest your bedtime (after all, what teenager has such an early bedtime?) and take a Spanken.
"Yes mom," said Sam glumly.
"Great. Have a good time," said Vivian, returning her attention to her computer.
If you are a Curious Little Sneak you can sneak around behind Vivian to see what she's doing on her laptop and take a Spanken.
Sam walked to the school (which was just a twenty minute walk on a pleasant Florida evening). She put on a dark cap and tied a bandana around her face while studying her first obstacle: a tall fence surrounding the school grounds. She pulled a length of weighted rope out of her bag and flung it over the fence. She tested it for a moment, then started scaling.
If you are a Military Veteran or Curious Little Sneak then you can spend a Spanken and have no problem scaling the fence.
Otherwise, roll a die and add your Athletics. If you roll a 4 or higher, you have no problem scaling the fence. Otherwise, you run into an unexpected complication.
Sam easily slipped over the fence, bringing her rope with her. She slipped into a copse of trees on the edge of campus, and not a moment too soon as a car pulled onto the small street leading into school. It paused a moment at the gate as the driver likely fed an ID card into it before continuing on towards the school.
Custodial staff starting their shift maybe?
Sam crept towards the school, keeping close to trees, outlying buildings, and shadows as much as possible.
Soon, she was creeping along the edge of the building, trying to decide where she would most likely find the answer key. She could check the Headmistress's office, or her homeroom teacher's classroom. She definitely knew where the Headmistress's office was, and at one point during the meeting, she recalled being shown where her homeroom was.
Sam slid along the outside of the school, occasionally peeking through windows to orient herself, until she came to the Headmistress's office. The room was empty, though the light was on and the laptop was open, suggesting that the Headmistress hadn't been gone long and may return.
Fortunately, the window was already open, letting a warm, wet breeze waft into the stuffy office, so it was an easy matter for Sam to slip in. The room hadn't changed any since she was in there a few hours ago: a desk, an office chair, two short chairs sitting in front of it, a filing cabinet, and what looked like a supply closet of some kind.
Sam went to work. She started with the filing cabinet, figuring the Headmistress was unlikely to notice if someone had tampered with that. She hadn't been looking for very long, when she heard the click of heels outside the office. Someone was rapidly approaching.
If you have Curious Little Sneak you can spend a Spanken and hide with ease. Otherwise, roll a die and add your Athletics to the result. If you get a 5 or higher, you hide with ease. Otherwise, you [#ch2-sneak-Headmistress fail][didn't quite clean up after yourself.]]
Sam pushed the cabinet closed and slipped into the closet. She pulled the door shut, until only a hairline crack could be seen, and slowed her breathing to a faint whisper.
The Headmistress entered the office. Strangely, she held a wooden flat-backed hairbrush in one hand. Sam's bottom tingled when she saw it, and she desperately prayed that she would never feel that thing.
The Headmistress tucked the brush into a drawer in her desk and spent some time, maybe twenty minutes, working on her computer. She stood up and left. Sam waited a few seconds, then sighed and stepped out. She eyed the computer for a minute.
If you are prefer Computers Not People, then you can spend a Spanken and infect the computer with some spyware on a USB stick you just happened to think to bring with you. You'll be able to keep an eye on whatever the Headmistress is up to, picking up some juicy evidence over the next few weeks. Spend a Spanken to increase your Evidence by 5.
A few more minutes of search, and Sam found the answer key. She took a few pictures with her phone, put the key back, and slipped out. You gain the aspect Placement Test in Hand and head home.
You spend a few minutes crafting answers that will put you right in the middle of the road, and then #ch2-test
Sam ducked into the closet and eased the door closed all but a hairline crack. She took a deep breath, and stilled her breathing to a whisper.
The Headmistress entered the office. Strangely, she held a wooden flat-backed hairbrush in one hand. Sam's bottom tingled when she saw it, and she desperately prayed that she would never feel that thing.
The Headmistress paused. She turned and looked at the filing cabinet. In particular the top drawer. The open top drawer.
Sam swore under her breath.
The Headmistress's eyes flicked to the closet door. In two strides she was on it. She yanked it open and found Sam standing in the closet. The Headmistress' hand snapped up and ripped away Sam's mask, quick as a striking cobra.
The Headmistress' lips turned down into a scowl, though it looked almost relieved. "Well, if it isn't little Miss Susie Johnson. Looking for the placement test I presume?"
Sam smiled anxiously. She shrank back into the closet and tried to look as small and young as possible.
The Headmistress rolled her eyes. She grabbed Sam by the ear and dragged her out into the main office. "Silly girl. The placement exam is literally just so that we know how best to help and challenge you. Cheating only hurts you."
The Headmistress pulled one of the armless chairs in front of her desk around with her foot. She sat down and pulled Sam across her lap. Sam whimpered as she went across the woman's slender lap. Her bottom jiggled underneath the skintight leggings and her thick legs kicked anxiously.
"Still, cheating is cheating, and I will not tolerate it." The Headmistress tapped the hairbrush against Sam's upthrust bottom. Faint ripples spread out across the jello-like cheeks. "I must say, shocking as it was, I was so thrilled when your mother gave us permission to paddle you. Finally a parent letting us use the tools we need to do our job."
Sam's hips squirmed anxiously. Her face turned beet rod. God, she was in her thirties, yet she was about to be spanked like an errant child. By a stranger! A criminal stranger she was trying to investigate and arrest!
The Headmistress brought the hairbrush down on Sam's right cheek with a resounding crack. The soft flesh flattened and rippled underneath the brush, the tight spandex failing to hide even the smallest ripple. Sam's eyes opened wide and a gasp burst from her lips. The Headmistress struck Sam's left cheek with another resounding crack. Sam yelped and her feet kicked up, her big bottom roiling beneath the stroke.
The Headmistress settled into a rapid rhythm, the hairbrush flashing between cheeks with a confident, practiced ease. Sam didn't go ten strokes before she was kicking, wiggling, flailing and wailing. Even through her leggings the hairbrush burned, and she couldn't even begin to imagine how it would feel on bare flesh.
"My goodness, kids these days," said the Headmistress. "When I was your age, and I was in this much trouble, I bent over and took my spanking stoically. None of this wailing and flailing that you got going on. Embarassing."
The Headmistress tugged Sam's leggings down to her thighs, bringing two cherry-red cheeks bouncing into view, the g-string all but lost amongst the generous curves.
Sam squealed and reached back for her leggings. "No, stop this is embarassing."
The Headmistress batted Sam's flailing hands away. "Child, you broke into the school so that you could cheat on a placement exam. Your mother gave us permission to paddle your bare bottom when you deserve it, and by golly you deserve it tonight."
Sam moaned and squirmed. Tears were already flowing down her face, and her bottom hurt worse than it had ever hurt in her life.
The Headmistress brought her hairbrush down on Sam's bare flesh. Sam shrieked as the heavy wood bit deeply into her soft flesh and a deep, stinging burn scalded her sensitive bum.
The Headmistress battered Sam's naked flesh buttocks with rapid, bum-wobbling blows. Sam bucked about on the Headmistress' lap. Her legs cycled madly, and she clung to the chair seat.
"Please miss I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Oww!" sobbed Sam. "Stop, it hurts!"
"Not until your lesson's been burned into your bones." The Headmistress focused on Sam's sensitive sitspots for several agonizing seconds.
"It's been burned, it's been burned!" wailed Sam, thrashing and flailing.
"I will be the judge of that." The Headmistress looped one leg over Sam's flailing thighs. She grabbed Sam by the hair and pushed her head down. She smacked Sam's blazing bottom with gusto, the brush bouncing off of Sam's flattening bottom.
Sam wailed hoarsely and slapped the tile floor. Tears flowed down her face and dampened the tile.
The Headmistress hauled Sam off of her lap. Sam danced around the room, crying and rubbing her burning bottom. The Headmistress grabbed Sam by the ear and pulled her into the corner. "Now, stand there, hands on your head and think about what you've done."
Sam did as told, shifting miserably from foot to foot, longing to rub the sting from her naked bum. She thought she heard the Headmistress leave, but she couldn't be sure over the sound of her sobs, and she didn't dare risk it.
After a few minutes the Headmistress pulled Sam out of the corner.
"Now, make yourself decent. I'm driving you home," said the Headmistress.
"I can walk," said Sam quietly.
"I'm not about to let one of my charges walk home alone in the dark at night," said the Headmistress. "Let's go."
Spanked and driven home, Sam felt like such a child. Increase your Childishness, and your Soreness by 1. Neither can go above 5.
One agonizing car ride later, Sam stood on her own porch while the Headmistress knocked on the door.
Vivian opened the door. Her eyes widened when she saw the Headmistress standing on her porch, Sam behind her staring at her shoes while her hands rubbed her voluminous bottom.
"Your daughter decided to break into the school and try to steal the placement exam," said the Headmistress.
"I see," said Vivian in a flat voice. Sam quailed before the woman's firm gaze. "Go to your room young lady. We'll discuss this later. I'm so sorry for the bother. Would you like something to drink?"
"Yes, I think I'd like that. I gave your child a sound spanking–"
"I'm glad to hear it."
"–and I would like to discuss it with you. Make sure I wasn't too severe or lenient," said the Headmistress.
Sam's face turned even redder as she hurried past them and into her room. She closed the door, pulled off her leggings and threw herself facedown onto the bed with a wail. Her bottom was hotter than a thousand suns, and her stomach roiled in anxiety as she thought about what Vivian was going to do to her.
And that wasn't all. As she lay there, it slowly dawned on her what she had done. She had been caught breaking into the office of a brutal crimelord. She started to shake as she remembered that cutting, suspicious look from earlier in the morning, how that suspicion vanished when Sam's "mother" gave permission to spank her. What would have happened if Vivian hadn't done that? If the Headmistress had still been suspicious?
Sam started to shake. She could have been shot and thrown in a bush. Tossed in the ocean with cement shoes. Kidnapped and used as a bargaining tool. If it hadn't been for Vivian, Sam would have blown the entire operation and maybe gotten herself killed. On the first night.
Sam pounded the bed as angry tears mingled with the pained ones already on her cheeks. She was a total failure, a terrible undercover agent, she couldn't–
The door opened and Vivian's broad form blocked the hallway light. Sam buried her face deeper into her pillow as hot shame raced through her. She couldn't bring herself to look at Vivian.
Vivian sat down on the bed next to Sam. Something cool and damp pressed against her scorched bottom.
"I screwed up," said Sam through her sobs. "I fucked up so bad."
"Hush." Vivian ran her hand through Sam's sweat-soaked hair. "Hush. Everything's fine. Everything's fine."
Sam just started crying harder. Vivian pulled her into her lap and rocked her gently back and forth, shushing her and patting her back.
"I love you Susie," whispered Vivian. "No matter what."
Slowly, Sam's sobs faded, and a comforting warmth spread through her body.
Vivian tucked her in, and kissed her on the forehead. "Mistakes were made, lessons learned. Tomorrow's a new day, with a fresh start.
Sam snuggled into the bed and closed her eyes, feeling warm and safe and secure for the first time since she was a young child.
Increase your Childishness by 1, and reduce your Soreness by 1.
The next morning dawned bright and hot.
Sam slid along the outside wall, counting classrooms and trying to remember where the Headmistress said her class was. Voices wafted out of a nearby window, raised in argument. She shrank back against the wall, her heart pounding against her chest. She heard a yelp, a protest, a heavy smack and a squeal. Sam hustled towards the sound, and peeked through the window.
Alexa Vain, the Headmistress, sat at the front of the room in an armless wooden chair. A round, voluptuous bottom hung off the side of her lap, the bare cheeks framed by a black garter belt and split by a red thong. A round red welt marred the smooth, pale skin of the right buttock. Headmistress Vain brought a round wooden paddle, about the same size as a ping pong paddle but much thicker, down on the peak of the left buttock hanging off her lap.
A harsh crack battered Sam's ears. She winced and her big bottom clenched, her hand snapping back to clutch the fleshy orbs. The ass draped across the Headmistress' lap roiled beneath the stroke. Long, curvy, stocking-clad legs kicked, black pumps flexing. The woman yelped and arced her back. Sam caught a glimpse of a head with long raven hair over the swell of bare buttocks.
"You can't do this," yelped a young feminine voice. "I'll tell the union! I'll go to the police!"
"Oh Miss Davidson," said Vain with a long suffering sigh. She brought the thick wooden paddle down on the woman's jiggly right cheek. The woman squealed and rocked back and forth as ripples flowed out across her squishy skin. "You and I both know you won't. Not unless you want a certain something dropped outside the precinct."
Sam pursed her cheeks. Well. That's interesting. Gain the aspect Dirt on Miss Davidson?.
Miss Davidson whined and squirmed on Vain's lap.
"Now, let's see precisely how 'ineffective and counterproductive' a paddling is, shall we?" asked Vain. She brought the paddle down on the woman's bare left buttock. Ripples spread across the jiggly orb. Miss Davidson's stocking-clad legs kicked, her heeled feet flexing in pain. She whimpered, her voice already thick with tears. Vain raised the paddle above her head and brought it down on Miss Davidson's right cheek with a sharp crack. Miss Davidson's head briefly lifted, her raven hair swinging around her.
Sam winced her way through every stroke, her big bottom clenching. She was acutely aware of the skintight leggings hugging her bare skin, the narrow elastic of her g-string running between her cheeks as images flashed through her mind of lying facedown across Vain's lap, her leggings tugged down to her knees, her bare cheeks naked and vulnerable before that wicked looking paddle…
Sam shook herself. It was fine. Everything was fine. That wasn't her in there, and if she was just a little bit patient it wouldn't be–
A particularly hard smack struck Miss Davidson's sitspot. The woman wailed and drummed her feet. Sam's jaw clenched and she winced. Her bottom tightened anxiously.
And so it went for a solid twenty minutes. Twenty minutes of the thick paddle splatting Miss Davidson's thick, jiggly bottom. Twenty minutes of Miss Davidson wailing and flailing. Twenty minutes of the harsh crack of wood on bare flesh assaulting Sam's ears.
Finally, Vain pulled Miss Davidson off her lap by her ear. "So what do you think? 'Ineffective and counterproductive?'"
Miss Davidson shook her head. Her face was marred by tears, her nose was running, and she danced from foot to foot, gingerly rubbing her bottom. "No ma'am."
"Indeed. Now, let's put you in the corner for a little bit more thinking, yes?" Vain dragged Miss Davidson towards the corner next to Miss Davidson's desk, a few feet from Sam, who ducked down. "Nose against the quarter."
"But–" said Miss Davidson. "Yes ma'am."
There was a slap. "And put your hands on your head girl."
Miss Davidson yelped.
"Good. I'll be back in twenty minutes. I wouldn't suggest leaving before then, unless you think you can get the quarter lined up just right." There was a clatter of wood on wood, likely the Headmistress putting the paddle down on the desk, followed by the slap of shoes on tiles, and the opening and closing of the door.
After that, Sam heard nothing but sobs and angry mutterings. She peeked above the windowsill. Miss Davidson stood in the corner behind her desk, her hands on her head, her glowing red bottom a perfect match for the red thong running between her cheeks, and a sharp contrast with the black garter belt framing her bottom.
Sam grimaced. Sneaking around literally behind her teacher's back did not sound like fun. She eyed the desk. She could see the placement exam sitting right there on Miss Davidson's desk, right next to the–
Sam shuddered.
Right next to the paddle. Sam licked her lips and eyed the exam. She could try to sneak in and out. Alternatively, she could try mimicking the Headmistress' walk. Let Miss Davidson think the Headmistress had come back in to get something. Or she could just give up and go home.
If you are Curious Little Sneak, then you can spend a Spanken and sneak in and snap a picture with ease. Otherwise, if you want to try to sneak in, roll a die and add your Athletics. If you get a 6 or higher, you sneak in and snap a picture with ease. Otherwise, your teacher hears you.
If you are Method Actor, then you can spend a Spanken and mimick the Headmistress' steps perfectly. Otherwise, if you want to try to mimic the Headmistress, roll a die and add your Charm. If you get a 5 or higher, you mimick the Headmistress' steps good enough. Otherwise, Miss Davidson is not fooled.
Finally, you could just go home empty handed, but without feeling the thud of that paddle.
Sam took a deep breath. She very slowly and carefully eased the window open a few more inches and slid through, silent as a shadow. She eased up next to the desk, and pulled out a tiny touchscreen camera without a speaker or any other means of providing audible feedback. She took a few pictures, carefully timing page turning with the cadence of Miss Davidson's sobs and muttering. She eased back to the window, and slipped out. She put the camera back in her back, and faded away, Placement Test in Hand.
Sam returned home about ten minutes before curfew (curfew! Ugh!). She waved to Vivian as she went upstairs. She spent some time carefully crafting answers that would get her a score a little high of middle (roughly a B), and memorizing her answers. She put on pajamas and slid into bed, a contented smile on her face. Smooth as glass.
Sam took a deep breath and slid through the window, silent as a shadow. Her broad hips scraped against the window, and she stopped, sucking in her breath. Her hands braced against the shelf running underneath the window. Her feet dangled in the air behind her, and her hips were pretty snugly wedged between the narrowly opened window and the sill. She sucked in a breath and slowly wiggled her way into the room, her eyes never leaving Miss Davidson's shifting, muttering form. She resisted the urge to breath a sigh of relief as she settled down on the floor. She eased up next to the desk, and pulled out a tiny touchscreen camera without a speaker or any other means of providing audible feedback. As she eased out the camera, her hand struck the handle of the paddle. The paddle flipped across the desk and landed on the tile with a loud clatter.
Sam's teeth clenched and she ducked behind the desk. Miss Davidson jumped. There was a jingle as the quarter struck tile. Miss Davidson swore viciously.
"Whose there? Oh. Stupid, wretched, horrid piece of crap." There was the sound of wood scraping against tile, likely as Miss Davidson picked up the paddle. The desk rattled as she slammed the paddle back on the desk. "It's a prestigious school they said. It'd be good for your career they said. What's this? Interesting…"
Take the Aspect Miss Davidson Has Your Camera.
Sam's heart stopped beating. Her hands were empty. She'd dropped her camera. Heels clacked on tile. Plastic scraped against tile. Miss Davidson's shadow moved across the linoleum. She was stepping around the desk.
Sam bolted for the window.
"Jesus!" cried Miss Davidson.
Sam leapt through the window. She sailed out into the warm, humid air, a fresh breeze promising– She jerked, and the breath whooshed out of her. Her hips were stuck in the window. Her face turned hot as a stove. Oh God, she was stuck in the window.
Sam squeaked and kicked frantically. She rocked back and forth, and she could feel the window starting to give. Just another half an inch–
She heard a sadistic laugh, and the window came down on her lower back, pinning her securely.
"Looks like our little sneak got stuck," said Miss Davidson. "You look like some kid. You trying to snitch test answers? Whatever, I don't care. You come in through the window? How long were you out there?"
Sam grunted and squirmed, trying to pull herself the rest of the way. Her arms pressed against the rough brick, while her legs windmilled, flailing around in a futile quest for purchase.
"Whatever, it doesn't matter. You saw enough." Miss Davidson yanked Sam's leggings down to her knees.
Sam squeaked as her voluminous cheeks, completely unconstrained by her tiny g-string, wobbled into view.
Miss Davidson laughed. "Those are some panties for sneaking around in. Now. I don't know who you are, and honestly I don't care. But what you saw does not leave this room. Understand?"
Something thick, cool and round rubbed circles on Sam's bare right cheek. Sam sucked in a breath. She squirmed and whimpered.
"Now, our dearly beloved Headmistress is gonna give it to me good for leaving that wretched corner." Miss Davidson's voice dripped venom. "So I think it's only fair you get a little taste of what you've put me through you snotty brat!"
The paddle pulled away from Sam's bottom. Sam sucked in a breath and squeezed her eyes shut. The paddle splatted agains Sam's soft, wobbly right cheek, and an explosion of pain consumed Sam's mind. Sam bucked. She clenched her teeth together, desperate not to howl, for fear of drawing additional attention. Her legs kicked frantically. Her hands slapped the rough brick outside, and her hips squirmed in the window.
The paddle struck her left cheek. Sam bucked, kicked and flailed. Tears gathered in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks, soaking her mask. Sam barely had time to process the latest eruption of magma across her buttocks when the paddle struck her right cheek. She clapped her hands over her mouth to contain her wail. Another blow flattened her left cheek.
Miss Davidson paddled Sam's bucking, squirming, rippling buttocks with gusto. She clearly wanted to get in as many strokes as she could before the Headmistress got back.
Slowly, ever so slowly, the window inched up as Sam's hips wiggled, thrashed and pushed against it. Using strength given by desperation, Sam braced her arms against the wall and thrust her ass up almost as if offering her bottom to the paddle. The sill inched up.
The paddle flattened Sam's bottom another dozen times before she got the window up enough to fall through. Miss Davidson yelped and grabbed Sam's pants. Sam kicked, and squirmed as her pants slid the rest of the way down her legs and got caught on her shoes. She frantically kicked her shoes off and fell into the grass.
Increase your Soreness by 2. Soreness cannot go below 1 or above 5.
The grass was harsh and brittle against her bare feet as she scrambled onto all fours. A hand reached down to grab at her, and she hunched down into a ball. The fingers brushed her cap, when there was a sharp slap, and a yelp.
"No, Agnes wait–" said Miss Davidson in a panicked squeak.
"That's Ms. Arthur to you young lady." There was a scrabble of feet, the rustle of clothing, and the harsh crack of paddle on bare flesh. "I told you to stand in the corner until I got back, not lean out the window like Juliet looking for Romeo."
"But–"
"If it isn't an apology, then I don't want to hear it," said Vain.
Sam dared to peek over the sill. Miss Davidson was in the same place she'd been when Sam got there, bent over Vain's lap, her rotund ass facing the window, kicking and bucking and wailing while the Headmistress paddled her raw.
Sam noticed her pants lying crumpled up behind the desk, positioned so that Vain couldn't see them from the door. Her camera sat on top of them. Interesting. Perhaps Miss Davidson wanted to keep Sam's existence a little secret. She probably just wanted all this to be quietly forgotten by everyone. Sam was happy to oblige her.
Sam crouched back down and checked her watch. She grimaced. If she wanted to get home by curfew, she had to go now. The last thing she needed was to show up back home after curfew and without her pants.
Sam slipped away towards the edge of campus. The muggy breeze on her bare legs and bottom, and the dry, bladelike grass stabbing her bare feet vivid reminders of just how little clothing she was wearing.
She was about halfway home when a car whipped around the corner, bathing her in headlights. Someone in the car whistled, while Sam dove into some bushes and bolted through shadowy backyards. Sam's face burned hot. Look at her! She was an FBI agent, and yet she was running through a neighborhood in nothing but a g-string and t-shirt, right after getting spanked like a child. She hadn't gotten within a hundred miles of such ridiculous antics since college.
Increase your Childishness by 1. Childishness cannot go below 1 or above 5.
Sam got home without additional mishap She slipped through the door.
"Hey Susie, how was your studying?" came Vivian's voice from the living room.
Sam froze. She stuck her head around the corner and grinned at Vivian. "It went great Mom. I think I'm ready for tomorrow."
"That's good. I'll be very disappointed if you do poorly," said Vivian. She gave Sam a stern look.
Sam swallowed, and her large, well-spanked, very bare derrier clenched. "Yes mother."
"Now, why don't you go to bed. Big day tomorrow." Vivian smiled and turned her attention back to her laptop.
Sam nodded. She backed up until she was as far away from Vivian as possible, then walked past as quickly as she dared without looking obvious. As soon as she was past she sprinted upstairs and into her room.
"Ooooh." Sam locked her door and fell on her bed, furiously rubbing her throbbing bottom. "This is gonna suck so hard."
Eventually, she plucked up the courage to put on a nightshirt (with a little bit of hopping and hissing when the light, soft material brushed her burning bottom) and crawled into bed. Mot–Vivian was right. Busy day tomorrow.
Sam slid over to a neighboring classroom. The windows were closed here, but a little bit of futzing with a few tools from her bag got one open, and she slid in. She pulled a couple of rubber-soled shoe covers out of her bag and slid them over her soft shoes. She took a few test steps, and nodded. Sounded just like flats.
She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, trying to remember what the Headmistress' steps had sounded like. Quick, short and fierce, yes that was it. This was a woman who didn't have time for lollygagging.
Sam stepped about the empty room for a bit, practicing that quick, harsh step. Satisfied, she peeked out the door, and quickly slid through the empty hallway and into Miss Davidson's room.
She took a deep breath, and walked towards the desk, her shoes ringing off the linoleum. Miss Davidson tensed, her bottom clenching anxiously. She whimpered, but didn't move.
Sam stepped up next to the desk and pulled out a small camera with a touchscreen interface and no speaker or any other form of audible feedback. She started taking pictures of the test, flipping pages with a contemptuous flick of her hand.
"Can I leave now?" asked Miss Davidson meekly.
Sam didn't answer.
"Agnes? Can I leave?" Miss Davidson pulled away from the wall, catching the quarter in her hand.
Sam hastily grabbed the paddle and brought it down on Miss Davidson's bare right cheek. Miss Davidson leapt into the air with a squeal. Sam grabbed the back of her raven hair and pushed her face into the corner, and battered the woman's voluptuous bottom with the paddle.
Miss Davidson squealed and leapt back into the corner. Samantha hastily finished taking pictures and slipped back out through the window.
Sam returned home about ten minutes before curfew (curfew! Ugh!). She waved to Vivian as she went upstairs. She spent some time carefully crafting answers that would get her a score a little high of middle (roughly a B), and memorizing her answers. She put on pajamas and slid into bed, a contented smile on her face. Smooth as glass.
Sam slid over to a neighboring classroom. The windows were closed here, but a little bit of futzing with a few tools from her bag got one open, and she slid in. She pulled a couple of rubber-soled shoe covers out of her bag and slid them over her soft shoes. She took a few test steps, and nodded. Sounded just like flats.
Sam peeked out the door, and quickly slid through the empty hallway and into Miss Davidson's room.
She took a deep breath, and walked towards the desk, her shoes ringing off the linoleum. Miss Davidson tensed, her bottom clenching anxiously.
"Whose there?" asked Miss Davidson. Her body twisted, as if she were trying to catch a glance without losing the quarter.
Sam bolted out the door, ducked back into the neighboring classroom and dove through the window. She got briefly caught in the window, but a bit of squirming got her back onto the cool, scratchy grass.
She took a deep breath and put a hand over her hammering heart. She sat there for a minute, trying to get her breath under control.
"What part of corner time don't you understand?" barked the Headmistress.
Sam's heart leapt into her throat, before she realized it was coming from her teacher's window.
"I heard someone–oww!"
Sam winced as the sharp smack of palm on bottom cut through the night air.
"It was probably just a custodian you foolish girl. Now come here."
"No Agnes wait–"
"That's Ms. Arthur to you girl!"
Miss Davidson yelped.
Sam sidled sideways and peeked over the sill.
Miss Davidson was right where she had started when Sam got there, facedown across the Headmistress' lap, her naked ass facing the window and getting vigorously flattened by the Headmistress' large paddle. Miss Davidson wailed and kicked, while blubbering apologies.
Sam slid back down and checked her watch. She grimaced. She was going to miss curfew if she waited much longer. On the other hand, if she just waited a little bit longer, surely the two would finish and leave, and she could sneak in and grab the test answers. Maybe Vivian wouldn't care? After all, Sam was preparing for the placement exam, and getting that right was very important to sliding into the school without much fanfare.
Surely, Sam wouldn't get in trouble for doing her job right? Right?
Do you decide not to risk it, and head home or wait for them to leave and grab the answers?
Sam took a deep breath and went home empty-handed. She got home at least twenty minutes before curfew.
"Hey honey," said Vivian from the living room. "How was your studying?"
"Not great," said Sam.
"Oh no, did something happen?" asked Vivian looking up from her laptop.
If Sam has the aspect Method Actor, then take a Spanken as Sam unthinkingly gets too into character, and claims she was [#ch2-sneak-go-home-distracted][distracted by boys]. Otherwise, read on.
Sam shrugged. "Not really. Just you know, it's been a long summer and I'd forgotten so much."
"Oh, yes I know it's hard. But I am confident you'll do well. You're a smart girl. Now, why don't you run on to bed. Long day tomorrow." Vivian eased back onto the couch, and turned her attention back to her laptop.
"Yes mother," said Sam. Sam walked upstairs, and went to bed, empty handed. The night had been a failure, but at least she hadn't been caught. She would just have to do the best she could on the test tomorrow.
Sam cocked her hip and played with her hair. "Weeeelll, I was working real hard, honest, but it was kinda boring and there were a couple of cute guys–"
"You spent the entire evening flirting with boys?" asked Vivian sharply.
Sam's mouth clicked shut, caught slightly off guard by Vivan's tone. "Umm, well, like not the whole evening, I mean, I don't really know when they came in, but my books were out and…"
Vivian set her laptop on the coffee table and shifted onto the center couch cushion. She gestured for Sam to approach. "Come here young lady."
Sam gnawed on her lower lip and approached. "It wasn't on purpose–yee!"
Vivian grabbed Sam's arm and hip and pulled the younger lady facedown across the couch, her big, jiggly rump centered on Vivian's meaty lap, and her shirt riding up a bit to expose a bit of lower back.
"Hey, what are you doing?" asked Sam with a hint of panic.
Vivian's right hand pressed on Sam's shoulder blades, while her left struck the swell of Sam's bottom, making the soft flesh jiggle like jello beneath the skintight leggings. Sam yelped. The only thing between her bare flesh and Vivian's palm was thin black spandex, and it was not up to the task.
"Let's get something straight," said Vivian while her large hand made Sam's big, wobbly bottom jiggle and jounce. "This is a very prestigious, and very challenging school. You do not have time to be flirting with boys when you're supposed to be studying. Understand?"
Sam drummed her feet into the couch, yelped and clutched the side of the couch. This was ridiculous! They were in the privacy of their own home, why was Vivian spanking her?
"Oww! No, stop it, stop it!" Sam shielded her bottom with her hand. Vivian caught her wrist and pinned it to the small of her back with her right hand, while her left hammered Sam's sensitive sitspots. Sam squealed and flutter-kicked. Her leggings did nothing to hide the roil and jiggle of her bottom beneath Vivian's palm. "Oww, you stupid harpy let me go!"
"And here I thought I'd raised you with some manners." Vivian sighed. She peeled Sam's leggings down to her thick thighs. Sam gasped as her bare, rotund rump bounced into the open air, her g-string swallowed by her chubby buttocks. "What's this? This is the kind of underwear you wear when you go studying?"
Sam's face turned bright red. "Panty lines look dumb."
"Well then maybe you shouldn't wear pants that show off every little dimple." Vivian's heavy palm splatted Sam's bare right cheek. Sam howled. Her leggings may not have been doing much, but it was better than getting it bare!
"What do you mean bedtime?" asked Sam.
Vivian looked up from her laptop. "You need your sleep. Hard take tests or have a good education when you're tired."
"Come on Mom, I'm way