Matron about it later. Finally, she sent Resi off with the Book, to replace it on the lectern, and herself made for Steinkopf's much dreaded abode.
A comical sight met her eyes.
Two quite big girls, bare but for their stockings, were having a double enema. Kneeling side by side on a wide wooden bench, they had their arms secured behind them in wrist and elbow cuffs, their heads right down and buttocks thrust up. Into the amber anus of the one on the left threaded a red rubber tube which ran from a canister set on a shelf above. A second tube, of quite astonishing length, was just being inserted into the entrails of the girl on the right by the black-robed Matron, as Maria walked in to pay her respects and report on her finding.
“This I want to watch,” she said with a creamy chuckle, as the lightly greased tube slid in, to the girl's gaspingly protested oooh's and aaah's. Every now and then the Matron turned the tap of the canister briefly, to ease in the passage.
“Two notoriously costive girls,” she announced in her usual surly tone, “I mean to teach them a lesson. This is their third high colonic. Three liters of hot soaped water and turpentine. They take it together and the one who holds it shorter time gets my martinet under her with a vengeance. She also has another dose, held up by a saddle strap with a nice big dildo attached to it. There… there you go, my monkeys, swallow it all every drop, there's no way you can't, so there.”
The tap was opened and soon the bent bottoms were rippling with quivers, quick muscular contractions as the fluid seeped into them. But Maria Daunitz had really to laugh when the girls stood up after it was over, and the tubes snaked out of their bottoms. Their expressions were so woeful, she had no idea an enema could be as corrective; moreover, their bellies were distended until they seemed pregnant, their arms still fastened behind them.
They were stood in a tiled bathroom, side by side, and in a second both were writhing. They were also sweating since the injection had been hot. Truly, she had seldom seen such miserable miens as the pair clenched their legs, or paced and bent, in their efforts to retain their respective doses. But she had work to do herself and couldn't wait any longer, dearly as she would have liked to see that curious raised commode, with the sharp spikes around the seat, in urgent use. She supposed that with arms behind like this a girl had to sit down hard on it. However.
Excusing herself to the implacable Steinkopf, watching grim-faced with a martinet in one hand, she was half out the dispensary when there came a wail, a girlish cry-“Oooouuu, I can't… it's coming down!” plus the sounds of a helpless, abandoned pattering of feet, then categoric noises, in particular a high-pitched pinging-and a scream!
Maria Daunitz went on her way. Steinkopf knew how to treat them, to be sure. In the excitement of the moment she quite forgot about her mission to tell Matron of the bone.
She did not forget her tryst that afternoon, however. Gulfrida Kraus came from her hour of gym, a brisk run outside in a troop presided over by a mistress on horseback, and clouds of steam in the bathroom, looking veritably good enough to eat. So Maria Daunitz thought, sitting spraddle-legged in her chair waiting for her with cane in hand-and the white Duty knickers removed. Yes, her sex was on display and she watched the Junior's eyes to see if they should be so impertinent as to slip to that dryly muffled tuft.
But they did not. Gulfrida's hair was wetly slicked back, her whole skin had a rosy look from its rubbing in the communal bath, and her sharp chin stuck up proudly, as though to say-I'm here, let's get it over with.
Maria dawdled. She had the girl wax the cane first, then clear the room for a good run. She then bent her over a table, arms stretched out in front, legs together. With knickers down and skirt up a soft, full buttock came on display, two ripe rounds relaxed from the exercise and pinkened from their hot tubbing. This flesh would cut well to the cane — and did, fruity weals slicing across in black bands at once.
The girl took it well. Maria had got to five strokes when the door opened and Ingeborg Untermacher strode in, a pile of books under one arm.
“I'm caning a Junior,” said Maria thickly.
“So I see. And caning her well, judging from those lines. I can't see the face but that posterior looks to me like Kraus's. Is that you feeling sorry for yourself, Gulfrida?”
“Ja, Fraulein,” came the muffled reply.
“Stinging a little?”
“Ja.”
“I thought as much.”
“She has three more,” said Maria. “You're certainly cutting low. Ouch! That hurt!”
When it was over, and the gasping girl had dressed herself and left, Maria stood panting by the window; she had to hold on to something and grasped its unappealing bars. They were cold. She was afire. The view over the gaffed walls of the Schloss was of the unending tedium of a now snow-clad plain. Suddenly she was aware of her friend behind her.
“What was that mauling for?”
“Recitation. She failed completely.”
There was a pause.
“But that's a mandatory Duty, darling.”
“I know it is. But I wanted to whip her personally. In here.”
Ingeborg whistled. “Dangerous, dangerous, my dear. You know what would happen if the Head heard you were taking the law into your own hands like that?”
“Well. Who's to tell her? The girl won't. We all do it, you know that.”
There was another long pause. Maria's heavy breast rose and fell, rose and fell.
“I might, for one,” said Ingeborg softly.
Maria swung. Her already reddened face flushed further.
“You couldn't… you wouldn't… you'd never peach on me like that, Inge.”
“Why not? I'd frankly like to see you get a real hiding, Mary mine. Not a tickling like the last time, but triced to a triangle and scratched from neck to knees. Though most especially,” and she cupped Maria's mounds under the flap of tunic behind, “here.”
“You're not going to, Inge.” But she said it in an already defeated mutter.
“I'm not going to,” came the reply, catching at this tone, “if you let me give you what you gave that girl just now.” She picked up the cane and looked at it, dreamily. “Ach-come on. You're sopping, admit it. See if you can come during a beating. You'll find it… quite incredible, as a matter of fact.”
Maria Daunitz hung her head. Almost inaudibly she said, “I'll kiss… I'll lick you… off.”
“Yes, you will,” said Ingeborg Untermacher, still brightly smiling, “afterwards.”
“You're… serious, about this?”
“Never more so.”
A century seemed to pass before that aching window. Finally Maria Daunitz said glumly, “Lock that door. Oh, and Ingeborg.”
“Yes?”
“Hit… me… hard.”
“I will,” said Ingeborg, moving to the door, “and low. I know you like it there. Thanks, too, for saving me the trouble of taking down your trews.”
When she returned from the door it was to see her friend bent over as had been the Junior a moment before. This, however, was a distinctly senior sit-upon display, as she flipped the trifling skirt up the arched back. It demanded total attention and the very best in blows.
Maria received them. She took the drubbing with no more than gasps and grunts, however, though the last lashing cuts made her lift up her head. She was growing more experienced in taking, as well as giving, and what went on between the two women thereafter should not be the task of this prudish pen. Let a veil be drawn over it.
Suffice it to recount that later that evening Maria Daunitz returned to Dormitory “D” to get that stubby length of bone and show it to the Matron, or even the Head. But to her surprise it had gone. Little did she know that the mildly sculpted phallus was standing upright on the well-ordered desk of the Frau Direktrice at that moment, whither it had been brought by knowing little Resi who had seen the Duty Mistress extract and replace it, in the Dorm. Frau Grumkow decided to “sleep on” the matter, as was her wont, and slipped the glistening temptress of a gode into a drawer for the nonce.
