Story from Blushes 47.
Trudy In Training
Trudy was watching television. It was a video recording of the gymnastics from the Seoul Olympics. And her instructor was standing right behind her, emphasising the more subtle aspects of each girl's routine. Trudy's family fully approved. Mr Stevens was a splendid chap, always ready and willing to provide that little extra encouragement and coaching, and at no extra cost. Trudy would never be up to Olympic standard of course, but she would do quite well for herself at regional and national level. And she was certainly learning fast, at these impromptu evening sessions. The curtains were drawn. The door was locked. Just Trudy and her instructor.
Trudy was watching television. Dressed in just her tight leotard, she was bending tightly over the edge of the table, arms stretched out wide, fingers grasping the table edges, feet together and slim legs held straight, her head lifted, straining to watch the video recording. Behind her, Stevens flexed his favourite cane. He tapped it across her bottom, encouraging her to watch more closely.
'Watch the spring. Shoulders straight. Weight well forward...' A slim little girl on the screen performed a near-perfect routine. 'And watch as she lands. Down and...' CRACKKK! The thin cane whistled through the air and landed precisely across Trudy's bottom, emphasising the precision of the athlete on the screen. Trudy released a loud yell, and twisted her head towards her instructor. 'Yes, yes, please, Mr Stevens. Please...' The man shook his head at her. The girl was all promises, and no action. But he had a special tried and trusted technique for lazy young ladies. The video continued. She was encouraged to watch even more intently as she felt the quivering stick close to her bottom, touching the bare skin of her upper thighs, just waiting, hovering. 'Now watch, young lady. Watch!' She felt her bottom cheeks quiver in dread anticipation. 'Watch how she lands...' The lithe young figure on the screen performed a perfect landing. Her bare feet touched the ground. And Stevens' long thin cane found its target yet again. Another yell from young Trudy, and a frantic gyrating of her hips. 'Please, Mr Stevens. Please!' That last stroke had brought tears to her eyes. 'You were warned, Trudy. Clearly warned.' Stevens pointed towards the screen with the tip of the cane. 'Now you'll watch and take notice, young lady.'
* * *
Trudy's first meeting with Mr Stevens had taken place just over a year ago when her family moved into the district. She had changed, and had taken the opportunity to warm up on the apparatus before Stevens had arrived. In silence, he had stood by the side of the gymnasium, watching her, his face expressionless.
At last, she had scampered, bare foot, towards him, hands behind her back, smiling sweetly. 'How did I do?' she had asked, innocently. Two seconds later, Stevens had frog-marched her across the gymnasium towards his office, pushing her head-first into the small room.
'Never, never work out on the equipment without another person in attendance.' She was frightened by his obvious anger. 'You stupid foolish girl.' She blushed, and hung her head like a spoilt little schoolgirl. Their eyes met. 'Well?' He was waiting for her, and she stared back at him, puzzled. 'I'm sorry?' He walked to the end of the room, returning with a chair in his right hand. 'I want your apology for being so foolish.' A bolt of indignation ran through Trudy's head. She found herself shaking her head. 'No. No. Why should I...' In retrospect, it had been a rather silly question to ask a man such as Stevens. Trudy spent the next ten minutes, face-down and bottom-up, as her new instructor taught her a few basic facts about his methods and his expectations of her, each salient point well-emphasised by a firm slap of his palm across her bottom. Not such a cheeky, pert young lady crept out of his office later that evening, massaging her stinging bottom cheeks. 'Behave yourself, young lady, or there'll be trouble.' Those had been his parting words to her. She had blinked the tears from her eyes, and had hastened back to the changing rooms, praying that no-one else would be there. She opened the door quietly, hesitantly. And to her horror, was greeted by a friendly smile.
Sally was just coming out of the shower. Her slim healthy body was glistening as she stood, towel in hand. 'Hi! I'm Sally.' She glanced very quickly at the blushing youngster, standing in the doorway. 'Looks as though you've just had your induction course?'
Trudy turned to leave, wondering whether she could change elsewhere. 'Judging by the colour of your backside, I mean...' Trudy stopped, and turned again. The older girl was smiling. 'Don't worry. It happens to us all. Old Stevens likes to tan us all from time to time. Keeps us on our toes, if you'll excuse the pun...' It was a gesture of friendship. The door was closed, and the two girls became immediate friends. That evening, they walked part of the way home together, talking in whispers. 'If you behave yourself and work well, he won't touch you. It's just the lazy slackers that get tanned.' Sally had recounted her first interview with the dreadful man. 'He used his gym shoe. Made me take my leotard right down. Whacked my bare bottom 'til I was yelling.' Trudy's plans for the future were in the balance. Tomorrow she would resign from the club. There was no way that dreadful man would treat her like a spoilt child.
Foolishly, Trudy had left her leotard at home when she set off for the Centre the following morning, determined to throw in the towel. The others girls changed as usual, and scampered off into the gym. Trudy waited in the changing area, the exact words of her well-rehearsed speech to Mr Stevens, on her pretty lips. 'Get changed, young lady! Immediately!' Summoning every ounce of courage, the girl stood her ground and shook her head in defiance. 'No. I'm leaving.' For just a second she felt really pleased with herself, for finding the strength of will to stand up to him. And then it all wilted. 'Nonsense, you stupid child! My profession has invested good money in you! How dare you let us down! Get changed. Now!' Trudy opened her mouth to refuse, but Stevens continued. 'If you're not ready in two minutes flat, I shall apply my cane to your bottom. Your BARE bottom, after I have stripped you myself!' Deep down, Trudy knew he wasn't bluffing. That he was emphatic and forceful enough to do exactly what he wanted. He was about to strip her. She appealed to him. 'I'm sorry. I haven't got my leotard... 'cos I didn't think I'd be needing it...' He slapped her soundly across her bottom. 'Get undressed. Strip down to your knickers. And report to the gymnasium with the other girls. NOW!" Her heart in her mouth, her face crimson with embarrassment, young Trudy undressed. Quickly, she scampered across the cold floor of the gym, her young breasts bobbing as she ran, dressed in just her brief white pants. The session that followed was acutely embarrassing, as Stevens put each girl through her paces, one at a time, with the group watching and criticising each other. But strangely, the other girls seemed not to notice Trudy's near nakedness. In fact, nothing unusual occurred until the very end of the morning.
Stevens blew his whistle. The girls jumped to attention, their breasts heaving as they fought to control their breathing. He waited until they were in line, the tallest girl to the right, with the shortest on the left. 'A marginal improvement,' he told them. 'A very average performance from you all.' There was a quiver of anxiety from the line of panting girls. 'Stand one pace apart.' Each girl stepped sideways, with Trudy following their movements, stumbling slightly, until the young women were standing several feet away from each other. 'Leotards down.' A dozen tight leotards came fluttering down. Breasts large and small, firm, dainty, pink, bobbed into view, and hung free as the girls stooped, unhitching the thin garment from their ankles. Twelve healthy young girls stood silently to attention. Naked. Their hands by their sides, staring nervously at the man. He walked to the far end of the gym, returning with unquickened pace, with the cane in his hand. He stood behind them, his seasoned eyes scanning the row of bared bottoms. 'Touch your toes.' Another quiver of fearful anticipation as the twelve girls bent forward, fingers outstretched to touch bare toes, bottoms thrust out, awaiting their punishment. He caned them slowly. One at a time. Three strokes apiece. And after the strokes, each girl was told to fall out and return to the changing rooms. Eleven girls. Eleven bared bottoms. Thirty three stinging strokes of the cane. Frantic yells and crying. And then silence, as Trudy found herself the last girl to be attended to. One girl, in the large echoing gym hall. A pair of flimsy white pants lying on the wooden floor in front of her. Stevens with his quivering cane, walking behind her, considering her bottom. The new girl's bottom. The bottom he had smacked, but not yet caned. 'A very special lesson for you, young lady.' He told her to stand up. With her hands held above her head, he propelled her across the length of the gym towards the vaulting horse. 'Bend over, young lady. Make yourself comfortable. You will be here for some considerable time.'
In the early afternoon, Trudy staggered out of the changing rooms. Her new friend was waiting for her. 'Hey. How is it?' She smiled warmly as Trudy's tears cascaded down her blushing face. 'I told you to behave yourself, didn't I?' Sally put her arm around the younger girl. 'Come on. Let's go back to my place.'
Very late that evening, gentle knowing fingers were intruding into Trudy's very intimate secret place. She was lying face down on her new friend's bed. Her bottom was bare again, and Sally was tracing the angry cane-marks with soft soothing cool lotion. Many secrets were exchanged that night, as the two girls explored each other's past. A real and lasting friendship was born. And Trudy decided, after all, to continue with her training. 'It's not always that bad,' Sally whispered to her. 'Sometimes Mr Stevens does really nice things...' But that night, that first night, Sally would say no more. Trudy had many lessons to learn, and it was best that she met each lesson as it came. Just as Sally had learnt.
* * *
So Trudy continued watching television, late into the night. At some time after midnight, she was relieved of her leotard. Stevens had counted the cane-strokes already applied, the thin red tramlines clearly traced across the upturned bottom. There were many more lessons for young Trudy to learn. But she was promising material. Especially after a really sharp caning. When an insolent young madam finally stops fighting and just lies still, bottom ablaze, legs apart, acknowledging your authority. Trudy wasn't at that stage quite yet. But there was no hurry. Tonight, tomorrow night or next week. One day, she would learn her lesson. Until then, there was work to be done.
The cane whistled down yet again. Young Trudy bucked forward, bottom tightly thrusting, thighs parting, eyes closed, lips parted in a silent yell. CRACCKKK! 'We have lessons to learn, young lady...' CRACCKK! 'Lessons to learn....' CRACCKKKK!