Leonie Juchster went about her
kitchen tirelessly. She must have his tea ready before he came
home, or he would be uncontrollable. Sonja had failed another
mathematics test. The last time Allan had been furious, he
expected nothing less than perfection from their daughter. She
was supposed to be the shining success of the Juchster family, so
Allan himself could gain greatness through association as the one
and only father of Sonja Juchster.
But who wanted to be the father
of a dolt who could not even pass the simplest tests in
Over the last twenty-five
years, Leonie had often considered leaving her tyrannical
husband. Yet how could she? Even if Leonie could have
supported herself upon the deserted wife's pension, there was
still Sonja to think of. Leonie could not leave Sonja alone
with Allan, and no one could support a school age child on the
pension. Leonie herself had only year nine education and no
special training, so was virtually unemployable. Even prior to
1970, when the depression had begun.
* * *
"Alphonse ... Allan," Leonie
hurried to correct herself. It was more than a decade ago her
husband had anglicised his name, yet Leonie still could not help
thinking of him as Alphonse. "You are very early tonight.
Your tea will not be ready for at least another hour."
"Tea is not important," said
Juchster, dashing Leonie's hopes. "We have more important
"Important matters?" said
Leonie, feigning ignorance.
"Sonja's test," said Juchster.
"Apparently she has not done very well, or else she would have
been fawning all over me."
Leonie hummed and hawed for
another ten minutes, before conceding that Sonja was forced to
front up to her father with her test paper, which was brightly
marked in red with a large E+.
"At least I got a plus, for
good endeavour," said Sonja, grasping at any straw.
"What is the point of good
endeavour, when you're only endeavouring to be an idiot?"
demanded her father. "Good endeavour won't get you very far, if
you graduate onto the dole. You'll wind up like those
disgusting parasites that I see every day at my work.
good endeavour toward getting relief, and no inclination to ever
got up off their backsides and try to make something of their
"Yes, daddy," she conceded,
head hung in shame.
"How long is it since you have
been punished?" Juchster asked.
"Five days, daddy," answered
"Five days should have been
long enough for it to sink in," said Juchster.
"Then you mean?"
"Yes, the brush," said
Juchster. He took a large key ring from his pocket, and handed
the ring to Sonja. "You know where it is."
As Sonja strode smartly out of
the room, Allan Juchster carried a wooden chair from the kitchen,
into the centre of the dining room.
The kitchen and dining areas
were really one large room, which could be split into two by
pulling open a large concertina door. Leonie stepped through
into the kitchen area to tend to the saucepans upon the
Allan Juchster sat up straight
upon the chair as his daughter returned. Sonja placed a large
hairbrush upon the dining room table, within easy reach of her
father's right hand. Then, giving a sigh, Sonja allowed herself
to be drawn to her father and positioned over his lap.
Juchster raised his daughter's
skirt to reveal her taut buttocks out-lined beneath skimpy blue
"Please father," begged Sonja.
"May I keep my pants on?"
"To begin with," conceded her
father, adjusting her panties to get them properly into
Juchster stopped for a second
to admire the striking contrast between the navy blue of Sonja's
panties and the soft pink of her flesh. A strawberry blonde,
Sonja had skin so pink that she always looked as though she had
just stepped from a bath of scolding water.
Sonja squirmed upon her
father's lap, feeling his firm erection pushing up against her,
and wondered when he would stop teasing her and begin the
Finally Juchster was ready to
begin. His right hand administered firm spanks to first her
right buttock, then her left. At the first impact, Sonja began
to wriggle against her father's legs. Juchster's left hand
pushed firmly into the small of Sonja's back, holding her hard in
place. Despite her struggles, the smacks rang out sharply,
intermingled with her squeals as her backside flamed a deeper
pink, then red, and tears dampened her eyes. Juchster
administered the discipline ruthlessly for five minutes, before
deciding it was time for a change.
"Oh no!" gasped Sonja, as her
father tore her panties from her body to throw the torn rags into
a corner of the room. Whatever scant protection they had
afforded was now gone.
"I think that you had better
count the strokes for a while, Sonja," said her father in an even
"W...one!" sobbed Sonja as the
spanking recommenced. "T ... two, t ... three! ... Oh father!"
Sonja knew better than to plead; yet she could not keep quiet as
the stinging punishment continued.
The full hillocks of Sonja's
buttocks flattened like pancakes, beneath the onslaught of her
father's hand, then rebounded in time for the next snack. Sonja
gasped out, "S-seven," her lower lip ground against her teeth.
Her bottom bucked in an involuntary motion, flexed from the pain
ignited within the soft flesh as her hips tossed and rolled about
against her father's lap.
Finally, after much sobbing and
gasping, bucking and squirming against her father, Sonja counted
out, "T...twenty-one," and felt an immense rush of blood to her
buttocks as her father's hand halted.
"I ... is that all?" asked,
"Hardly," said Juchster, and
Sonja's heart missed a beat. "We have only just started.
There is no need for you to count from now on."
Juchster reached for the
hairbrush and said, "I have had to discipline you twice in one
week. And I will discipline you twice a day, every day, if need
be. 'Spare the rod and spoil the child' might be considered a
cliché these days. But there is a lot of truth in many old
sayings." So saying Juchster raised the hairbrush and began to
administer a volley of thirty or forty hard spanks in rapid
succession upon the already much abused buttocks of his teenage
Eventually Juchster was
satisfied and lowered his knees to allow Sonja to collapse,
sobbing, onto the floor.
Despite her distraught state,
Sonja knew that she had been quite lucky this time; the spanking
had lasted for less than fifteen minutes. Sometimes it
continued for over an hour.
"Sonja will go without her tea
tonight," said Juchster in a calm voice.
"Daddy, no!" said Sonja.
Squatting on her haunches, she rubbed tentatively at her
throbbing backside with one hand.
"Please, Alphonse, not that!"
plead Leonie, reverting to her husband's German name.
"Would you like to join her?"
Juchster demanded of his wife.
Taking hold of Sonja's right
hand, Juchster half dragged, half carried his sobbing daughter
out of the dining room.
Leonie felt so helpless as she
watched after them. She sighed with frustration, and then went
over to the kitchen to begin preparing the tea.
* * *
Allan Juchster had set the
alarm clock to wake him at four that morning. He was not due at
work until 9.00
AM, however, he had
some unfinished business to take care of at home
Juchster donned his dressing
gown and slippers, and then walked into the corridor and down to
the washhouse at the end of the hall. In one corner of the
washhouse was what appeared to be a double-door linen closet,
however, when opened it revealed a wooden ladder leading to the
Juchster reached into a pocket
of the dressing gown, took out a small key chain and unlocked the
double-doors. He switched on the light to the cellar, then
descended the ladder and used a second key to unlock a door at
the bottom of the ladder, then stepped inside the brightly
illuminated cellar. At first glance the cellar looked like a
cross between a gymnasium and a tool room. Along one wall was a
cabinet housing a large assortment of nails, screws, ropes and
tacks. Beside the cabinet, was a tool board containing a wide
range of pincers and pliers, saws, and metal chains. Along
another wall stood a vaulting horse, and two adjustable benches
of the type used in gymnasiums to do sit-ups upon. In one
corner of the room stood a dressing table, upon which was a wide
assortment of hairbrushes, metal combs, and small bottles of what
could have been perfumes and other make-up. Against another
wall stood a large double-door cabinet. Through the glass doors
of the cabinet could be seen a large collection of canes, wooden
and metal rulers, from thirty centimetres through to one metre,
riding crops, leather straps, wooden pallets -- which looked like
brushes without bristles, many of them covered with metal studs
-- and neck ties. Large wooden girders cries-crossed the
ceiling; like in a television country-and-western show caricature
of the ceiling of a barn.
In the centre of the cellar,
connected to the floor and to one of the girders, stood
Juchster's pride and joy. At a distance it looked like a large
bench drill. But in reality it was an array of pulleys, pipes
and wires, which allowed a metal hook to be raised or lowered
between the floor and the ceiling two and a half metres apart.
The hook could also be moved along a metal rail connected to one
of the girders. Had it been under copyright Juchster could have
made a fortune selling the device as a multipurpose work tool.
Instead he chose to keep the contraption to himself.
Well, not quite to himself, for
upon the hook was suspended Sonja. She had been suspended since
five-thirty the evening before. Her wrists were manacled to a
metal bar that was connected to the hook; her legs were
spread-eagled by a second bar, and were manacled to the floor.
She was blind folded, and a rubber ball, on a leather strap,
stoppered her mouth. She was naked and the heads of drawing
pins protruded from her thighs, buttocks and nipples.
"I hope that you have at last
learnt your lesson," said Juchster. "It seems that no matter
how often you are punished, the lesson does not sink in.
However, I will not shirk my responsibilities as a
So saying, Juchster thrust his
right hand up between Sonja's legs, forcing two fingers deep into
her vagina. Sonja gasped, beneath the rubber ball, at the
intrusion, but did not bleed, as it was not the first time that
her father had violated her sex with either his fingers or penis,
or even metallic or plastic objects.
Juchster moved his loft hand to
Sonja's right breast, and squeezed the nipple cruelly, forcing
the drawing pin to fall to the floor. Sonja bucked and
shuddered screamed silently and almost choked upon the rubber
ball that bobbed in and out of her mouth.
Leaving Sonja to shudder in the
middle of the room, Juchster moved over to the cabinet in the
corner and extracted a cane, which he slashed down across the top
of the vaulting horse. He shook his head and returned the cane
to the cabinet, and extracted a second cane. He repeated the
test four times before deciding upon the correct instrument to
Sonja had been listening in
terror to the sounds emanating from the corner of the room. Her
whole body already ached from having been suspended by the wrists
for ten hours. If she stretched her feet right out, she could
just touch the ground with her toes, but this was too strenuous,
so she had allowed her aching wrists to take the burden of her
weight. Moving around behind Sonja, her father said, "Good
girls don't need punishment. Remember that in
"They might not need it, but
they often get it," thought Sonja. She remembered all the times
that she had been punished for nothing at all, all of the
lashings and the incestuous rapes.
"Perhaps fifty will do this
time," said Allan Juchster ruminatively as he brought the cane
down upon his daughter for the first time.
Sonja spasmed, screamed beneath
the rubber ball as the cane landed across her shoulder blades,
then again as the second lash landed upon the small of her back,
and the third across her thighs -- Juchster liked to criss-cross
Sonja's entire body, to ensure the maximum sensation.
Her shoulders, back and thighs
turned a deeper pink, then red, as Juchster laid into his teenage
daughter with the cane. After the first twenty lashes the cane
began to move closer and closer to Sonja's taut buttocks.
Strokes landed immediately above the rise of her backside, then
on the tender flesh at the very top of her thighs. Juchster was
tempted to give her one hard lash vertically upwards between her
legs, but he was afraid that it might do permanent damage, which
could not easily be explained away to prying school doctors.
The thirtieth lash landed hard across both quivering buttocks.
Causing Sonja to yelp beneath the rubber ball, and to gyrate even
harder as she twisted every which way in a futile effort to
escape the cane.
Juchster decided to concentrate
the remaining punishment upon her buttocks. Sonja spasmed and
called silently for help that was not forthcoming. She writhed
and jerked at each blow as her young backside began to glow a
deeper and deeper red, and her faultlessly smooth flesh began to
become criss-crossed with tracks left by the cane.
The sight of the overlapping
tracks drove Juchster to a wilder and wilder abandon, until he
began to twist his whole body around in a 180 degree arc to
deliver each blow with the maximum possible amount of
Eventually Juchster finished
administering the punishment, and threw the cane into a corner of
the room. Sonja sobbed, partly in relief that the caning was
over, and partly from fear of what was still to come.
Sonja heard her father moving
around behind her, and expected him to walk around to fuck her as
he had done many times before after a session of punishment.
Instead he placed his hands upon her naked shoulders, and,
spreading his fingers, moved his palms slowly down her spine,
causing Sonja to twitch from the agony of the pressure upon her
red, raw flesh. Eventually Juchster's hands swept together into
the hollow at the base of her spine. Stooping, he placed his
hands upon her ankles, and then slowly moved his palm up her
legs, curving his hands around into the soft flesh of her inner
thighs. He moved one hand up between her legs to cup the mound
of her sex, then eased one finger tauntingly along the outer
lips, slowly forcing the slit open wide enough to insert the tip
of the fingers. "Why doesn't he just get it over with, and fuck
me?" thought Sonja.
But Juchster had other plans
this time. He pressed his hands hard against her round buttocks
and lightly gripped the soft flesh, then pinched down hard for a
few moments. Prying the taut mounds apart with his fingers, he
roughly shoved the pointer of his right hand straight up Sonja's
anus. She bucked wildly beneath the brutal assault and thought,
"Not that! He can't be planning to?" But even while she was
trying to convince herself that it could not be happening,
Juchster spread her buttocks wide apart, and speared forward with
his penis, impaling her brutally.
Sonja shrieked under the rubber
ball and tried to pull her body away from her father, however, he
reached around to clutch her sex roughly with his left hand, and
one of her small breasts with his right hand to hold her still
while he began to fuck her backside mercilessly, grunting and
puffing like a rutting pig.
The excitement of administering
the caning combined with the incredible tightness of his
daughter's rectum to bring Juchster to a climax in only a couple
of minutes. He lay against her, recovering his breath, for a
few moments, then unchained Sonja's ankles and wrists, to allow
her to collapse in a heap on the concrete floor.
"You have been hurt enough this
time, so that perhaps at last you will learn your lesson," he
said. "I shall tell your mother to ring your school to say that
you are sick today."
Sonja removed the blindfold
from her eyes, blinking beneath the harsh electric lighting, then
removed the large rubber ball from her aching jaws, and muttered,
"Yes, daddy," before sobbing aloud as her father quickly strode
out of the cellar.
She heard the door close and
lock. The lights flickered off, and she hoped that she would
not be locked away in the darkened room all days as she had been
Sonja rested for a few minutes
upon the floors slowly massaging her agonised wrists and ankles,
then began to pick up from the floor the drawing pins, which had
come free from her body during the whipping.
She took the drawing pins, and
the rubber ball over to the dressing table, where she deposited
the pins into a small jar of cleansing alcohol, then wiped the
rubber ball clean with a wet rag. "After all I'm the one who
will pick up any infections," she thought.
Feeling along the row of
bottles up the table, in the dark, she located a small bottle of
iodine. She took some cotton wool from the top drawer of the
dressing table, and began to apply the iodine to her aching
backside and thighs, as best as she could. She was unable to
reach far up her back, however, she hoped that Leonie would be
allowed into the cellar for a few minutes to apply ointment to
"I hope that I'm not keeping
you awake, Mr Smith?" said the lecturer, noticing Chris smother a
third yawn in as many moments.
"No, that's all rights," said
Chris, causing a few sniggers from students at other benches in
the small classroom.
"It's starting to look as
though I am," insisted the lecturer. He was puzzled at the
recent behaviour of Chris, who up until a few weeks ago had been
one of the best students in the class. Now Chris arrived five
or ten minutes late for every class, slept through half of the
class and yawned through the other half.
The lecturer made a mental note
to speak to Chris after class. "Probably spending too many wild
nights on the town, or burning his eyes and brain out in the
nearest video game amusement parlour," thought the
Chris continued to stifle yawns
behind the lecturer's back, as the grey-haired man returned to
his blackboard to chalk up diagrams while he lectured. At times
it seemed as though the man was talking to the blackboard itself
and not to his students. Scarecrow, as the man was known by his
students, behind his back, certainly was 'an eccentric old
bastard' as one of his students had once stated to his face.
Nearly two metres tall, with anaemic skin that seemed almost
glued to his bones, despite the fact that the man never seemed to
stop eating. Even now, as he lecturer to the blackboard, he was
stuffing himself full of cold chicken sandwiches that he had
bought at the canteen across the road from the school.
Chris wondered how Scarecrow
could make a profit teaching night school when it seemed certain
the lecturer ate at least twice as much in food as he was paid
Scarecrow began to become more
and more inarticulate as he lectured to the blackboard, and
filled his mouth at the same time, so Chris decided to study
something a bit more interesting.
Sonja Juchster sat two rows in
front of Chris, screwing her eyes into a squint, desperately
trying to make sense out of Scarecrow's lecture. Chris felt
sorry for the young girl. A day student at the tech, Sonja had
started to take extra lessons at night, toward the very end of
the year, in a last ditch bid to make up ground in her worst
subjects. But Chris did not like her chances much, with
Scarecrow's lectures to contend with.
The class was a two-hour
lesson, however, there was a ten-minute break at the end of the
first hour, as one of the students now pointed out to
"Hey Scarecrow, munchie-munchie
time," called the dark-haired boy drawing snickers from his
classmates and a scowl from the teacher.
"Very well," said Scarecrow.
"Take a ten minute break."
As the other students rushed
out of the room, anxious to grab a bite to eat before the lesson
resumed, Chris saw Sonja waiting at the front of the class, too
timid to step into the flow of people. Chris imagined that at
the cinema Sonja would be one of the few who sat through the
closing credits out of fear of being skittled in the furious
evacuation at the end of the film.
Many of the students raced out
through the front door of the school, to head toward the small
milkbar across the road, but others settled for the canteen in
the basement of the school.
* * *
The milkbar had a much wider
range than the canteen, which only sold tea, coffee and a small
selection of cakes and buns, but on the other hand the students
only had ten minutes, and crossing Ballarat Road twice could easily take up nearly five
minutes. The canteen could be reached by way of a spiral
staircase at the bottom of which there were three concrete steps,
leading up to a raised concrete walkway. Double glass doors led
from the walkway into the school book shop, while at the other
end of the walkway, three steps led down to the canteen on the
left, or a small recreation room on the right.
The hall outside the canteen
was feebly lit by a single florescent light, because of which the
area was in semi-darkness and so the students always walked at
least in pairs. Beside the recreation room was a dilapidated
staircase, which led to a storeroom above the recreation room.
School rumour had it that a teenage girl had once been dragged up
the stairs and pack-raped in the storeroom by a gang of bikers.
The rumour had never been confirmed by any teacher; however,
these days the students took no chances. Even the boys walked
to the canteen in pairs, since an alternative legend said that it
had been a young boy that had been dragged up the stairs and
sodomised by the bikers.
Sonja Juchster hesitated at the
base of the stairs. She had stopped to talk to Scarecrow about
the first hour's lecture, so she was alone. She could see the
thin line of light beneath the door of the canteen, and could
hear the sound of the laughter of the students inside the
canteen, yet Sonja hesitated to commit herself to starting the
one hundred paces from the staircase, across the dark corridor,
to the canteen at the other end. Sonja did not believe the
story of the girl, or boy, being dragged up the stairs then
raped. Not really. It was simply too much like a scene out of
Shirley Jackson's The Haunting of Hill House, or perhaps
some shambling tale penned by H.P.Lovecraft, or one of his
hundreds of emulators. But even so, Sonja decided that it
didn't pay for young girls to be too brash about walking down
dark corridors alone. Still, Sonja knew that she only had a few
minutes to go until the second hour's lecture was due to start,
so that if she did not take the gamble soon, she would hardly
have time to buy anything, let alone get it eaten, before class
restarted. And old Scarecrow was a strict enforcer of the
school ruling against students eating during class. "The
hypocrite!" thought Sonja.
Sonja was still trying to bring
herself to risk life and limb, rather than have to starve until
after class, when she felt a hand descend onto her left
Sonja. She jumped forward a step, thinking for a moment that
she was about to become the next attic gang-bang victim, and
turned as white faced as Scarecrow.
"I'm sorry," said Chris, "I
didn't mean to startle you, but you didn't answer when I spoke to
you, so I thought I had better try to get your
"That's all right, I suppose I
was silly to jump," said Sonja. "But I was lost in thought and
didn't hear you come down the stairs behind me."
"We'd better get to the canteen
if we don't want to go hungry," said Chris. "Old sour puss
would boot us out the window if he caught us trying to sneak food
Reluctantly, Sonja allowed
Chris to lead her across toward the canteen. She did not know
Chris by name, but she had seen him watching her in class, so at
least she knew that he was not the legendary Crawling Chaos from
the top of the stairs at the other end of the
* * *
"You're a day student here,
aren't you?" said Chris, stating the obvious as a means of
starting a conversation.
"Yes," said Sonja. "I'm
mainly doing night school to help out my grades in my two worst
Chris took a bite of Boston bun
and glanced around the canteen, Most of the chairs had been
stacked overturned onto the round tables, however, there were
still a few other students eating, so Chris hoped it was safe to
talk awhile longer.
"What are they?" Chris asked.
"Your worst subjects that is."
"What?" asked Chris, shouting
loud enough to cause Sonja to jump, and the other three students
to look toward him. "You have to be kidding? There are no
easier subjects than those two!"
"I know," agreed Sonja.
"That's what my chemistry and physics teachers keep telling me,
but then I guess anything is easy when you know how. My problem
is that I don't know how, when it comes to those two
"Then why are you doing the
Applied Science course?" asked Chris.
"Because I always used to be
very good at the science subjects, right up until this
"So what went wrong?" asked
Chris before popping the last of the Boston bun into his mouth.
"I was doing so well
previously, that my parents asked my teachers to allow me to skip
a grade. Unfortunately they agreed, and so I've been struggling
ever since. Even in my best subjects, English and maths, I've
dropped down to a B+."
"All the way down to a
Chris, causing Sonja to laugh. "Wow, devastation."
"Yes...But with physics and
chem. I'm struggling to even pass...I don't know, maybe it
isn't just skipping a year, maybe if I'd only done fourth form
this year, I'd still be struggling. But I'm sure that things
wouldn't be as bad as they are."
She paused for a moment, and
then said, "As it is I might have to repeat fifth form next year,
so I might just as well have done Intermediate this
"Yes," agreed Chris, "that's
the problem with some parents, they're so determined to help you,
that they end up doing everything they possibly can to hurt
"It wasn't both of my parents,
just my father," said Sonja. "And he wasn't trying to help me,
he only wanted to be able to boast that his daughter had been
smart enough to be promoted a year. Not me mind you, his
daughter, who inherited his brains, But now he's not boasting so
much, now I'm my mother's daughter who inherited her brains," she
said, almost crying. "I think he almost started to believe that
he was the A-student, so he thought I was questioning his ability
when I started to slip down a few pegs."
Sonja stared down into her
coffee cup for a few moments, then gulped down the last of the
tepid coffee. Grimacing, she crumpled the Styrofoam cup and
then under-armed it into the cigarette tray in the corner of the
room. Chris finished his own coffee, and seeing the other
students were stacking their chairs upon their table, he decided
to risk his hand.
"Perhaps I could help you out
with your problem subjects," Chris offered.
"No, I ... I couldn't impose on
you," said Sonja.
"It wouldn't be imposing. I
only do three subjects, as a night student, so I don't have much
homework," lied Chris. He wondered how he could possibly find
the time to help Sonja, if she accepted his offer. However, he
could think of nothing else to say on the spur of the moment that
might allow him to see -- and hopefully do a lot more than just
see -- Sonja on a regular basis outside school hours. Once he
was in good with her, thought Chris, if the worst came to the
worst, he could then plead difficulties with his own studies, as
a way of getting out of his promise. "And after all," he
reminded her, "physics and chemistry are my two best
"But you have a day job as
wells don't you?" asked Sonja.
"Yes," admitted Chris, trying
to think fast. "But I knock off work at 3:00 PM, so that gives
me time to get home, get my books, then get to your place before
you get home from school...."
"Oh no!" said Sonja, loud
enough to startle Chris. "It ... it couldn't be at my house.
Not at my house. My father wouldn't like me to be around a boy.
He thinks I'm still too young."
"Hey, we'd only be studying
together," said Chris. He wondered whether he had scared Sonja
off somehow, by being too obvious about what his real intentions
were. "Don't tell me she can read dirty minds?" he
"I...I know," said Sonja,
causing Chris to sigh aloud from relief. "But my father
wouldn't be able to understand that, he's a very suspicious man.
He wants to ...." She stopped, lost for words, having almost
admitted "He wants to keep me for himself." Instead she said,
"He wants to keep me a baby as long as possible, at least until
I'm fifty-five anyway."
Chris laughed, and then said,
"Yes, I think that all parents are at least a little bit like
that." Standing, Chris helped Sonja to her feet, and stacked
their chairs upon the table, then said, "Then what about studying
together at my place? I can set up my text books and things,
ready to start as soon as you get there."
"Do you still live with your
parents?" asked Sonja. She allowed Chris to place an arm around
her shoulders as they walked out into the basement.
"Yes, but they won't mind. My
dad's a little strange at times, but mostly he's all right. My
mum's very nice ... actually she's my stepmother, but if you ever
met my real mothers you'd understand why I think of Norma as my
mum," Chris said then laughed, along with Sonja. "Perhaps that
isn't very kind," he added, "but it's perfectly true."
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