The Days Of Gloria, Part 1

September 15, 1896
Sarah Waters

Mr. Bard welcomed us to class today with a ten question quiz about the Egyptian Pyramids. It was rather basic, having read chapter four in the text over the weekend, the questions were directly from the end of the review page at the end of the chapter. Personally, I felt the chapter in general spent far too much time making assumptions about the ancient culture based on modern Christian beliefs, rather than focusing on known facts and quantifiable assumptions based on more diverse theologies.

Mr. Bard walked through the room collecting our previous assignments while we completed the quiz. Behind me he stopped and spoke in a loud enough voice for everyone to hear. I think it was his intention to disrupt the class but I must say it seemed rude to me.

“Miss Hill, how many questions were at the end of chapter four?” Mr. Bard asked.

“I am uncertain, sir.” A timid voice replied.

I turned around in my chair for a moment to glimpse who he was tormenting. The young lady was familiar to me as another boarder at the Carrington’s. She shares a room two doors down from my own. I know her name is Gloria Hill and I know she despises the Carrington’s and Miss Bowen nearly as much I do although our reasons are worlds apart.

I have never spoken with her, she seems the shy and quiet type. Her casual attire was more formal and elegant than anything I have dreamed of wearing. Her long brown hair is always curled around her shoulders in defiance of modern fashion. Suffice to say I have noticed her but I doubt she has ever looked far enough beneath herself to realize I exist.

“Would it be fair to say it was more than three?” Mr. Bard asked.

“As I am uncertain to the exact quantity it would be impossible for me to say, sir.” She replied.
Her voice was meek but her words conveyed a bravery beyond her tone. The contradiction intrigued me.

“Let me assure you there were a total of fifteen questions to be answered. You have a mere three answers on this page and unless I am mistaken they are from chapter three and not chapter four.” Mr. Bard said.

The room fell silent. Mr. Bard was likely waiting for a response but I gathered as he asked no question, Miss Hill was unlikely to say anything. She proved me right.

“Nothing to say for yourself, Miss Hill?” Mr. Bard asked.

“Is there something in particular you wish me to say?” She asked.

“Perhaps you could explain why you did not complete your assignment?”

“I could but would it alter your opinion of the matter?”

“Assuming your answer goes beyond the tired permutations of canine digestion it is possible.” Mr. Bard replied.

I snorted while trying to suppress a giggle. I am of the opinion it sounded worse than a simple giggle would have but at least it managed to avoid getting me dragged into the middle of Gloria’s problems. I wonder why I was the only one who seemed to find his comment amusing.

“I found the text boring and it made me rather sleepy so I napped during the time I should have been reading and answering the chapter questions.” She said.

Bold answers and I while Mr. Bard might take them as truth for some reason they did not ring true to my ears. I realize I do not know here and therefore cannot lay any claim toward knowledge of her likes and dislikes but my observations of her seem reflective of an individual with a keen mind. The contradictions continue to build.

Mr. Bard walked to the front of the room. He stopped at his desk and lifted his grade book, perusing it for a moment. He closed it quickly and slapped it back down on his desktop creating a loud slap that made most everyone in the room jump in their seats.

“Miss Hill finds history boring and unworthy of her time. Does anyone else feel this way?” Mr. Bard said.

The class remained silent. Everyone seemed to be looking around with plenty of stares falling on Gloria. Mr. Bard’s stance told me matters were not going well for her and I think most of my classmates came to the same conclusion.

“It seems you are alone in your boredom, Miss Hill. Were this not a mandatory class I would invite you to leave. However, we do not have that prerogative. Therefore I must find a way to alleviate your boredom. Do you have any suggestions on how I might achieve that goal?” Mr. Bard said.

“No, sir.” She replied.

“I see. It seems you have been bored for some time. You have not completed a single assignment I have give to date.”

“I believe that is correct sir.” She said.

“Have you read chapter four?”

“No, sir.”

“Have you read chapter three?”

“Do you mean all of it sir?” She asked.

There were stifled giggles at her response. Mr. Bard pretended not to care. Gloria appeared contrite, her brown eyes down turned, her shoulders slumped slight, but there was evidence of smugness at the slight upturn of her lips. Was it my imagination or was she nearly smiling?
Mr. Bard sighed and shook his head.

“I had hoped not to have to do this, but you are leaving me very little choice, Miss Hill. Your behavior and apparent lack of shame is a disgrace to Primrose and your family. Stand up!”

Gloria contorted her face to mimic nervousness or was it genuine? She stood without trembling but her lower lip quivered. She looked at the floor but her back was straight and proud. I wonder what thoughts were rushing through her head.

“You will strip off, leave your things at your desk and come to the front of the room. Understood?” Mr. Bard ordered.

Gloria nodded her head slightly and her hands began the difficult task of unfastening buttons. Her hands were steady, mine would have shaken to the bone. Her face was white, I would have blushed to my toes. Something was not right here and it was not that a beautiful young lady was about to be naked and disciplined in a classroom occupied by both male and female students, although that is disturbing in itself.

It took her three minutes by my count to strip and begin her shameful walk to the front. She covered herself as best she could with arms and hands contorted to cover as much vulgar flesh as possible. She walked with confidence and surety.

Mr. Bard regarded her for a moment as she stood before him and before all of us. She did not tremble or shiver. She kept her head tilted down but her shoulders were square and her back remained straight. Her legs were shoulder’s width apart, reminding me of a soldier’s stance.

“Hands at your sides.” Mr. Bard ordered.

He reached inside his suit jacket and removed a small leather strap. I have seen several around and believe they are the implement of choice at Primrose. The supple leather makes for an excellent implement with flexible use. Its sting is no doubt fierce but the noise is muted other than the cries of the victims.

“Turn around and face the class.” Mr. Bard ordered.

Gloria obeyed and as her eyes came in contact with the boys in the front row, her cheeks colored for the first time in her ordeal. She was brave not to cry from that moment. I think I would have. She no longer looked at the floor. She stared at the boys, her eyes meeting each of theirs in turn or so it seemed from where I sat.

“Bend over. Hands on your knees.” Mr. Bard ordered.

Gloria complied. Her face grew a touch redder as she must have realized the view the boys had. Her breasts swung free and seemed to grow as they hung downward. Her nipple hardened before our eyes and with her hands at her knees there was no hiding her lack of pubic hair. I blushed for her, with her.

Mr. Bard swung the small strap with very little arm motion. I suspect the flick is worse than the slap with such an implement, but it is not a theory I am in a hurry to test. Gloria’s reaction were sufficient to assure me it was painful.

She gasped as each flick connected. They grew more intense with each successive strike until tears began to stream down her face. Once the tears came the gasps became sniffles and sobs. Mr. Bard was not in a mood to be gentle. He kept a steady rhythm of a one-two beat until he delivered a total of fifteen. Gloria was crying freely by the last.

The boys in front of me seemed to hardly breath while Gloria was bent over. The girls blushed as I did. No one said a word or made a sound. We were torn between horror and fascination. Part of me, I admit, wanted to know what it was like to be her, to be the center of everyone’s attention. Most of me was just glad it was not.

“You may stand up.” Mr. Bard said.

Gloria was flustered. Her hands started to reach to comfort her backside and then seemed to realize that was not allowed. Her legs were shaking and she seemed to be having to difficulty keeping herself standing still. I have had enough spankings to know the desire of that moment and also the shame.

“You may sit on the stool in the corner for the remainder of class and I expect you will have completed all your previous assignments as well as the current one by Wednesday’s class. Understood.”

Gloria nodded and started to walk to the corner.

“I expect an audible answer, Miss Hill.”

“Yes, sir.” She said.

Her voice was surprisingly strong.

“Good because if you do not, this lesson can be repeated.”

Gloria glanced toward the class, toward the boys I believe, her lips were upturned in what I can only describe as a rueful smile. The moment was brief and it was only a glimpse I saw but I am quite certain of what I saw.

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