Content warnings for this story (click here for guide):
Rosaline pouted in her dressing gown as Carlson and Polly rustled with the tissue-paper bundle.
“Rats,” said Lily, “I’ve got Mr F coming in five minutes. I have to go and change. Rubes, will you help me into my get-up?”
“Aww, I was looking forward to this,” groaned Ruby. “Sure, come on. Let’s get you trussed up for the big spender.”
The pair blew Rosaline a bunch of kisses and squealed with laughter as they closed the door.
Rosaline breathed out in relief as they clattered off down the corridor. She’d been seething at the indignity of being dressed up in front of those squawking tarts. The thought of them doubling over as she was cinched and primped had been less than appealing. Thank god that tortuous corset was off. No wonder those things had died out with her grandmother. They should all have been burned, she thought.
“Right, I think we’re ready,” she heard, and spun round to Carlson and Polly had laid out a number of garments on the bed.
“Up we get, Miss Bannister,” said Carlson. “Or should I say, Little Rosy?”
“Miss Bannister will do fine,” snapped Rosaline. “You can stop calling me –
“Dear me, we’re not getting uppity again, are we?” said Carlson, with a mock-shocked expression. “That will never do, especially from such a sweet little girl.”
“I am NOT – “
“There’s always the slipper,” offered Polly.
“The what?” said Rosaline. Polly waved a red velvet example and swished it through the air with menace.
Rosaline shuddered, remembering the spanking she’d received, and wisely shut her mouth.
“Right, Little Miss,” said Carlson, “Let’s try this sweet little number on you.”
He held up a school uniform, consisting of white knickers, a pinafore dress, a white blouse with puff sleeves and a perky little beret with a pompom.
“This is ridiculous!” squealed Rosaline. “I’m far too old for a pinny!”
“That sounds like grumbling, Little Rosy… “ warned Carlson.
“Ugh! Fine!” Rosaline snatched the school uniform from him, slipped off her robe and jammed the garments onto her body. Infuriatingly, they fit her.
“Ah, I thought she would look charming as a good little schoolgirl,” said Carlson to Polly. “Would you mind braiding her hair, Polly darling?”
Polly grinned and grabbed hold of Rosaline’s hair in one hank, causing her to yelp and freeze. She plaited it quickly into two thick ropes, tying each one off with a yellow satin ribbon. The beret was placed at an angle on her head. White pelerine socks were pulled onto her kicking feet and sealed on with patent dolly shoes.
As Rosaline stood up, livid at the intrusion, Polly smiled patronisingly at her.
“Awww, Little Rosy’s all ready for her first day at school! Did you bring an apple for your teacher, Rosy?”
“You shut your idiotic mouth, you –“ Rosaline began, her face red as she stormed toward the other girl. Just in time, Carlson grabbed her by the arm, her pleated pinafore swishing as she was restrained.
“Now Rosy,” warned Carlson, suddenly seeming less like her captor and more her old headmaster. “We’ll have none of that from a little madam in school uniform.”
“In fact,” he continued, “what on earth are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be singing hymns in assembly, or playing a flower in an infant class play, or reciting the colours of the rainbow in an adorable little voice? Why, I can only assume you’re playing truant!”
“What?” Rosaline whirled round to toward him and he let go of her arms. She caught sight of herself briefly in the hated mirror and gaped at how young she looked.
“I reckon you’re right,” tutted Polly. “Terrible to see such a sweet little angel skipping off school.”
“Ought we to teach her a valuable lesson?” asked Carlson, with a serious frown on his face.
“NO!” bawled Rosaline. “You’re not spanking me again!”
“I was going to suggest writing lines,” said Carlson, “but you’re right. A good hiding might be more effective. We can’t have our good little girls turning naughty like this…”
“Yeah,” chuckled Polly. “You never know where they’ll end up – some terrible den of sin, no doubt…”
“You know, you’d have made a fabulous nun in a Catholic school, Polly, dearest,” said Carlson. “You’re just sadistic enough.”
He grabbed Rosaline smartly by the ear. She yelped and tottered along on her tiptoes, wincing as he led her toward a little table in the corner and forced her to bend over it.
“I’m afraid we don’t have a proper school desk, my dear,” he said merrily, “so we’ll have to improvise. Elbows on the desk!”
Rosaline turned back to protest, then saw him getting out a hook-handled cane. In shock, she turned round again and placed her elbows flat on the wood.
“Now then,” said Carlson. “I’ve had enough pouting from this arrogant little miss. Six of the best, I think!”
“No, please!” Rosaline whined, but Carlson was already lifting her prim little pinny and bringing her white knickers down to her knees. Her buttocks jigged in nervous anticipation.
SWACKKKK!
The cane bit like a snake. Rosaline hooted in pain.
“Count, please.”
“Unhhh, ONE!”
“’One, thank you’ would be better.”
“One, th-thank y-y-y-you… “
“…’Sir’.”
“S-Sir!”
SWACKKKK!
“NNNNNNNHHHHH!”
“I’m waiting. There be an extra one if I don’t get a nice thank-you.”
“UNGHHHH! TWO! Two, thank you… SIR!”
Polly cackled as Rosaline hopped up and down, shaking her bottom helplessly.
SUUUUUWACKKKK!
“Gahhhhhh! Th-th-three, thank you, S-Sir!”
Tears were rolling down Rosaline red face, and her nose was running like that of a snivelling toddler. Polly couldn’t help but enjoy seeing the stuck-up brat wailing and snuffling beneath Carlson’s cane, her smalls sinking down to her ankles as she wriggled.
SWACKKKK!
Rosaline leapt up, clutching her striped bottom.
“Back down, please,” said Carlson, sternly. “That’s only four. Two more to go.”
“Noooo!” wailed Rosaline.
“A good girl would take her six strokes if she’d earned them.”
“I don’t care!” sobbed Rosaline. “I’m not staying still! I won’t let you cane me any more! What will you do about that? Are you going to have her (she flicked her fingers at Polly in disgust) hold me down? Eh?”
Carlson thought for a second, tapping the cane gently against his leg.
“No,” he said, “but I’m afraid you may have given me an idea. You see, big girls who’ve done something naughty take their six strokes without complaint. A little yelping, perhaps, but no outright defiance. No, your behaviour suggests a school uniform may well be too advanced for you. I think Polly should pick out something from our array of clothes that suits your manner of… protest… “
Polly grinned and began to sort through the clothes piled on the bed.
“Where on earth did you even find these, Mr Carlson?” she chuckled. “In her size, I mean.”
“Oh, I have a very good seamstress,” he replied. “She’s outstanding at adapting patterns. Perhaps you should find two or three options. We want to make sure our little sweetheart looks her best.”
“Very well.” Polly took her time while Rosaline glared at her and nursed her throbbing behind. She went to pull up her white knickers, but Carlson stopped her.
“AH-AH! What does a good girl say?” He glanced at the cane leaning in the corner.
Rosaline rolled her eyes, blushing furiously. “Please?”
“Please what?”
“Please may I pull up my underwear?”
“That’s better. Yes, you may. I think you’ll be wearing white draws with any of our lovely outfits, so those can go back on.”
Rosaline stood up to tug the cotton over her cheeks and sat back down heavily, wincing as she was reminded of her stripes.
“Right,” said Polly eventually. “I’ve found three adorable outfits for Rosy to try. I think she’ll look darling in all of them but you can decide which she wears today, Mr C.”
“Oh Rosy,” called Carlson in a honeyed voice. “Come and see what Auntie Polly has got for you!”
Rosaline scowled, refusing to move.
“Oh, I think she’s shy,” said Carlson. “Let’s bring them across to her, shall we?”
Polly went first, revealing a sugar-pink smocked dress with a neat little collar and plump puff sleeves. It had a satin sash that tied in a bow at the back.
“How sweet!” cooed Carlson. “Let’s have Little Rosy try it on.”
Rosaline gaped. “But that looks like something a five-year-old would wear!”
“Were you wanting the rest of your cane strokes?” asked Carlson sternly. “Because if you do need caning again, another six will go on top of the two still awaiting you. That’s what big girls get. Do you want to protest that you’re a big girl or put on your nice dress for Auntie Polly?”
“Ughhh!” Rosaline knew when she was trapped. “You wretches! You beasts!” She snatched the dress from Polly and tramped off to a corner to change.
“I’d strap her hand myself,” said Polly. “Such an ungrateful little brat.”
“She’s probably just grumpy because she’s tired,” said Carlson, enjoying the way Rosaline was cringing.
Once she was dressed, Rosaline stalked back over, not saying a word. Polly burst into peals of laughter, gasping for breath..
“Oh yes!” said Carlson, grinning. “What a pretty little princess! Albeit a pouty one. Smile for Auntie Polly, Rosy!”
Rosaline refused.
“Aww, is Little Rosy a bit shy?” mocked Polly. “Here, you need the rest of it.” She handed Rosaline a pair of pink bloomers (“so you don’t flash your smalls”) and a pair of frilled ankle socks, along with a pair of babyish pink sandals.
“Nooo,” whined Rosaline. “Haven’t you beasts had enough fun with me?”
“Aww, Rosy-Posy might need a nap,” said Polly.
“I do NOT need a nap, you stupid tramp! I need my own clothes back! My respectable clothes!”
“These are very respectable,” said Polly. “My baby niece wears a little number like this to church. Not that I go myself.”
They fastened on her sandals and walked Rosaline to the mirror.
“Doesn’t she look so sweeeeet?” sang Polly, cruelly. “Little Rosy in her dainty pink dress…”
“I look ridiculous!” barked Rosaline, her cheeks turning scarlet once again.
“Well, without your hair bow, it does lack a finishing touch,” said Carlson. “I think we’ll swap the plaits for sausage curls, Polly.”
“But it barely covers these idiotic bloomers!”
“Well then, you’ll just have to play demurely with your dollies then,” said Polly. “Then you won’t have any accidents!”
“I want to take it off. Now!” said Rosaline, purple with rage.
“Certainly,” said Carlson. “But only in order to try on another.”
Rosaline paused. It surely couldn’t be worse than this hideous Easter dress…
“Fine,” she said, crossing her arms before realising how stupid she looked. The mirror showed her an overgrown brat, throwing a tantrum at her 5th birthday party.
“Anything but this,” she huffed, as Polly began to undo her buttons for her, a wicked smile on her face.