To her intense humiliation she was made to bend over one of the schooldesks to wait for her mistress. Bending, her bottom stuck up and pointing towards the door while the tutor finished grading the lessons of his pupils.

Wondering if the tutor was looking at her, bent that way, waiting for correction; or if the administration of discipline was such a common occurrence to him that he was indifferent to the sight of another female bottom about to be unveiled for the strap.

The tutor was young, in his early 50s, she thought, wrinkled a little around the eyes and with a touch of gray in his hair, but still virile, potent, and she could not look at him without blushing, even under ordinary circumstances.

And now of course the circumstances were not ordinary, to her at least.

For him they might have been, for she knew that other servants had been brought to the schoolroom for punishment, had seen various of her friends led there. Had watched them taken inside, and then, as she rushed between the kitchen and the dining room serving the courses and then as rapidly clearing them, had heard the sound of the leather strap applied to bared cheeks , had heard the cries and admonishments by the tutor to keep still, had imagined the agony of the strap across the bared bottom. An agony she had never experienced.

She knew that the tutor frequently administered correction, or assisted in its administration. She had heard other servants being disciplined. And, more than once in the course of her duties, she had seen the two young ladies of the household undergo chastisement at his hands.

She recalled that first time, when she had gone to the schoolroom at the close of lesson time, discharging her usual duty of removing the tea plates and half eaten pasties that the girls were allowed between geography and latin, the last – and most dreaded – subject of the morning.

She had passed the older girl, Christine, in the hallway, and had pushed the door to the schoolroom open without thinking, only to see the younger sister, Katie, in disgrace, bare bottomed and over the tutor’s lap as he sat on a chair he had arranged in the center of her room.

The tableau was interrupted for a moment by her presence; the 17 year old twisting her pretty head back to gaze in misery at the unexpected and unwanted witness to her bare-bottomed humiliation; the tutor too looking at her, quizzically, his expression clearly indicating that it was, after all, only a spanking – a common enough occurrence – and that she’d need pay no attention to it and get on with her duties, while he got back to his.

And what choice did she have in the matter, other than to obey? She had proceeded into the room, making several trips to remove the piles of dirty plates and half drunk cups of tea, all the while hearing Katie’s correction, hearing the tutor scolding, punctuating each comment with a loud hard smack on the poor girl’s upthrust rear end.

Although she knew she should not watch, each time she passed near the strict tutor and crying pupil she found her eyes straying to take in the scene: the young girl bent across the older man’s lap, the delicate frock hoisted, and the round young buttocks bright red, rather than the normal pearly white of the rest of the girl’s perfect skin. The buttocks martyred across his knee, two round globes of throbbing pain and the tutor’s muscular hand descending time and time again to meet them, the loud slaps of his palm against her hot sore flesh echoing through the room as the spanking proceeded.

Although she did her best to look away, she found it impossible not to witness what was occurring. And, as she saw that hand descend on the bared behind, as she saw that girl contort with pain each time the hand slapped her crimsoned bum, her own buttocks tensed and twisted as much as those of the girl being spanked over the tutor’s lap.

As she watched the young lady being punished, her buttocks tensed at the realization that the servants too were corrected, and that in other circumstances it could be she – would be she – bared and spanked over the tutor’s lap.

For months that thought had pursued her. And now, the fear had come full circle, and it was she bent over the schooldesk, waiting as the tutor finished grading the work of the two daughters of the Master.

The sounds of voices in the room died down, and she heard the scrape of the tutor’s chair, as he dragged it back, got up, and slowly walked towards her.

At that moment the door to the schoolroom opened and the mistress of the household entered, leaving the door wide behind her.

The first part of the young maid’s correction was about to begin.

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