«Frankly, Amy, I’m not sure I can overlook this.»
The shapely young girl bit her lower lip and looked at her saddle shoes. The tiled classroom floor was spotless and almost reflected her image.
«B-but… I… you know, Mr. Spencer, I…»
«I know what, Amy?»
The man, well in his forties, stood from behind the teacher’s desk and paced the room in front of the nervous teenager. He cleaned his glasses as he spoke in an exaggeratedly strong British accent.
«I have been trying to excuse this behaviour of yours for weeks. I gave you second chances, and thirds, but you brought me to the point where I can either keep covering for you with the Headmaster, or present you the consequences for misdeed.»
Amy shifted from foot to foot and gulped. «I know, sir…»
James Spencer put his glasses back on as he approached the girl. «And to be honest, Amy, I do not wish to lie anymore. You are my best pupil and I helped the best way I could. Normally, I would turn in every student who forgets manners…» he remembered Amy flirting with him time and time again, «… violates the dress code…» he remembered Amy purposefully un-button her blouse and oh-so-casually raise her pleated skirt, «… and is repeatedly late for class for God knows what reason.»
The pretty teen blushed and kept her eyes glued to the floor. There was nothing she could say. She knew all too well that such things had lasted even too long, and that Mr. Spencer had been so good to her! She could only hope he wouldn’t be too hard now.
«I’m so sorry sir… please, I’ll be more careful, and…» His eyes met hers and she looked down at such firm look. «Please, don’t punish me,» she added, with the best puppy-dog eyes she could muster.
Again James shook his head and polished his glasses. Her arguments were very convincing indeed, but he had forgotten his duties as a teacher one time too often. The St. Joseph School did not and would not understand the reasons for such a delay in changing his behaviour toward the erratic student. It was time to take a firm hand with her.
«I’m afraid I have no choice, Amy. You know I have power to administer punishment when and where I see fit. It’s the school rule.»
With that, he walked back to the desk, opened a drawer and produced a nasty-looking, worn leather slipper that was once used for gym activities but that was now uniquely devoted to spanking. Amy gasped as her eye caught it. She let out a small whimper and lowered her eyes again.
«We shall need that for the second part of your punishment. For now, please come to me,» he pulled the chair out and set it a few feet from the desk, then sat, «and lie across my knees.»
His voice was calm and firm, not brisk and yet commanding. As scared as she was, Amy had still no intention to actually escape the punishment – but even if she wanted to, there was a hint of severity in Mr. Spencer’s tone that she just could have not ignored.
So, despite her jelly legs and wobbly knees, she made her way to where he was sitting. She kept looking at her knee-high white socks and black saddle shoes, and twisting the hem of her skirt with sweaty fingers. Eventually all she saw was his broad lap: Mr. Spencer was an athletic, handsome man, and every time she had been flirting with him, she had meant every word and every move.
Amy didn’t quite believe that he would seriously spank her, though. Not like this anyway. All of the mind tricks she’d played on herself about how cool it is that there are still men who will not put up with nonsense and put a lady across their knee instead, miserably fell apart as she realised that she was that young lass about to make a step back in time to old-fashioned over-the-knee discipline. Well, even she couldn’t say it wasn’t deserved: she had been practically screaming for it for a long time now.
James welcomed Amy’s average-sized, beautiful frame across his knee. He gulped and swallowed, then took his time adjusting her body so that the bottom – protruding invitingly from beneath the mid-thigh skirt – was in the exact centre, and that arms and legs would not touch the floor. Amy’s long blonde hair brushed the ceramic tiles and she steadied herself clutching the chair rungs.
Up went her skirt, revealing her white regulation panties. James raised an eyebrow: Amy was known to wear much more daring underwear.
WHACK! Came his hand across her panty-clad rump, and «Ow!» was the girl’s immediate reaction.
He spanked slowly and methodically, delivering hard smacks that covered the whole of Amy’s backside. Soon the teenager was squirming, moving her body back and forth, right and left as her bottom stung something awful. James’s broad hand descended again and again, his fingers wrapping around Amy’s sides as he spanked. He could notice the blush beneath the cotton tissue.
«Oww!… Mr. Spencer… sir… please!» squealed Amy in response to a particularly well-aimed swat.
«I am sorry that… smack!… we had to come to this… smack!… but if it’s needed… smack!… I will do it… smack!… more and more often… smack!… until you have learned… smack!… what is proper for a girl your age… smack!… or until you cannot sit down comfortably… smack!… in my class ever again… smack!… Is that understood, young lady?»
«Aaaiiieeee!! Y-yes sir! Oww please!»
A few tears were escaping Amy’s eyes by now, and her bottom was ablaze as the crisp sound of the smacks reverberated through the deserted classroom. She couldn’t help kicking her legs, but she fought not to reach back with her hands and not to cry too much: she didn’t want him to think she was nothing but a big baby, after all.
Twenty hard swats later, James stopped. He rubbed the sore palm of his hand on his pants, even though the girl’s backside showed much more soreness. Amy was crying quietly to herself, head down and bottom still sticking out.
Taking a deep breath and steeling himself, James proceeded to bare her bottom. Down came the soft white cotton panties, past her well-formed hips and down her thighs, resting an inch below her bottom, turned inside out as in a reverse ‘V’. A few whimpers came from Amy, who was by now too embarrassed and too focused on her own thoughts to complain about her state of semi-nudity.
James paid that no attention anyway, and instead turned and retrieved the slipper. Amy gasped and squirmed when he placed it on her bare bottom, knowing full well what was coming. And she knew of all the events that had brought her in this position, but still…
«Please,» was her only feeble plea.
«I’m sorry, Amy. You know the rules, and quite frankly, I agree.»
And with that, up came the slipper and down it came with a loud CRACK! It sounded like a pistol shot, and sure didn’t feel much different on Amy’s already well-spanked posterior. The girl cocked up her head and let out a single, short shriek. Her long hair fell on the small of her back for a second, and James gently brushed it away before charging the second blow.
WHACK! The poor teenager’s reaction was almost the same, and real tears started to flow. She tried to move her scorched bottom out of harm’s way, but to no avail. Her knuckles became white from holding on to the rungs, and her nose was starting to run copiously.
But James wasn’t finished. He kept adding layer after layer of dark, blazing red to Amy’s now thoroughly punished bottom. The smacks were even slower, but the leather bit so cruelly in her flesh that she would sometimes yell and produce herself in a concert of “oww’s”, “ouches” and “noooo’s!” – all of which fell of course on deaf ears.
The slipper did its painful job for several minutes, smacking relentlessly from the top of her buttocks to the lowest parts of her sit-spots and making a very sore and sorry girl out of Amy. Her bottom soon turned into a mass of roasted flesh, also sporting the occasional little welt or bruise. Nothing that wouldn’t have gone with the night, but that would make it awfully difficult for her to sit still until then.
At long last James stopped, and set the slipper back on the table. Amy was crying freely now, after having given up most of the fight. Her legs would still kick occasionally, but without much vigour. She was a well-spanked girl if there ever was one.
«Shh, it’s okay… I have finished, Amy,» said Mr. Spencer as he patted the small of her back.
Amy was still too busy sobbing to pay much attention, but after a while his words registered and she willed herself up. Her hands flew tentatively to her bottom – she wanted to rub so bad! – but James blocked her hands in one of his and shook his head.
«No rubbing, young lady. Go stand in the corner for a few minutes, hands on your head.»
The look Amy gave him was of absolute bewilderment.
«Yes, you hear me well. Hands on your head and no rubbing. We may talk in a few minutes.»
This time she just lowered her eyes, and nodded a muffled response. Placing her hands on top of her golden hair, she slowly made her way to the corner. Once her nose was pressed into the marble white walls, James approached her from behind and made sure her skirt was raised and her panties still hugging her knees. He took a few step backs and contemplated the sight of red-bottomed, sniffling Amy.
Yes, he had said a few minutes. And yes, he was supposed to maintain a certain professionalism through it all. He should have waited, finished the scolding, give her a note ‘for Daddy to sign’ and then send her on her way before they could meet again.
But senses overcame him. Throwing the fake, plastic glasses on the floor, he strolled to the corner, turned Amy around and lifted her off the floor. He pressed her body to the wall with his. She gasped out of shock and surprise, but soon realised what was going on and smiled broadly through her tears. James kissed her hard, the salty taste of her tears on his lips. Amy kissed him back just as eagerly.
«Was it good as you thought it would be?» he said in-between shuddering breaths.
«Yes and more!» she exclaimed, panting too.
«I’m not doing this again. It hurts you.»
«You promised!» She pushed him away for a second. «I told you that I like it.»
«Yes but, if they catch us…» his hands lowered to support her still bare, flaming bottom, «… I’ll be fired and you’ll be expelled.»
«I don’t care.»
«Teachers can’t spank students… let alone have sex… I may never find another job…»
«I don’t care.»
He laughed nervously. «What do you want, then?»
«I just want you to love me.»
And love her he did, on the classroom floor, against the wall, on the desk and against the blackboard, for the rest of the afternoon, praying the janitors were home like supposed to. The fire in her bottom couldn’t equal the one in her heart. And as for him, he wished that school would be over soon so that they could be on their way to some sunny beach. They’d managed to hide something like that in a crowded school for over a month now… to pass as uncle and niece wouldn’t have been hard, would it?