Corporal punishment
By Ernest Winchester
Copyright 2011 by Ernest Winchester
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
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There was a soft knock on the door and Mr. South looked up from the papers he was grading. “Enter,” he said, in a stern voice, for he was certain he knew who was at the door.
The door opened slowly and a young woman’s face peered around it.
“Come in Miss Winters. Close the door—and lock it.”
The young woman’s mouth looked to be forming the word, ‘Why,’ but when she caught the glare on the teacher’s face, she merely covered her mouth, turned and twisted the lock on the door handle.
“Here, in front of my desk.” He gestured.
As the woman inched toward the desk, she glanced over to the windows to note that the blinds were closed enough to prevent anyone outside from seeing in.
“Quickly! I don’t have all day.”
She moved before the desk, but couldn’t summon the courage to look up. Her hands were gripped together behind her back, the knuckles of one hand resting on the tops of her buttocks.
He, however, turned his gaze intently onto the woman’s face. Seconds passed before he finally moved, opening a desk drawer and withdrawing a plastic covered sheath of papers. “Do you know what this is?” he asked, dropping it onto the desk.
“I…I think it’s my term paper.”
“It is the paper you turned in. However, it is not yours. Don’t you think I recognized the work of former students?”
“I…I’m sorry. It’s just that…”
“You know, out in the real world, this would be called plagiarism. That’s a serious charge. Here in school it’s called cheating. Cheating is a serious offense here too, don’t you think? Certainly deserving punishment.”
Her lips moved but nothing came out. Then they began trembling.
“What size shoes do you wear?”
The young woman’s eyes finally came up to meet the teacher’s. They were full of genuine questioning. “Ah, six.” Her voice nearly broke.
Mr. South leaned over and opened the bottom drawer of his desk, taking out a pair of black high heels. “Take off your shoes and socks and see if these fit. Come to this side of my desk.”
Miss Winters complied. Stepping into the shoes, she rose four inches in height. She stood erect, though wobbled slightly.
“Walk around. Over to the window and back.”
The heels clicked on the hard floor as she strode over and returned. She felt the tension in her calves, knowing that they were exposed below the knee length hem of her skirt.
“Nice, very nice. Now walk to the back of the room and wait there.”
When she reached the back of the room, she turned to see that Mr. South had followed her. He pulled a straight-backed chair from a small table that was against the wall, then pulled the table two feet out from the wall. Turning the chair so that he was facing her when he sat, he said, “Take off your clothes.”
Her mouth fell open. “Mr. South, I don’t think…”
“You don’t think what? That you deserve punishment? Of course you do. Now take them off or I’ll cut them off!” He opened a small drawer in the table and removed a pair of scissors. “You’ll have a hell of a time going home with your clothes in shreds.”
She reluctantly reached up and began unbuttoning her blouse. With it removed and placed on the table, she reached behind her to unfasten her bra.
“No need to take off the bra. Your punishment will be concentrated below your waist.”
“Oh, no. Please Mr. South.” She paused, hoping he wasn’t serious, but when he menacingly opened and closed the scissors, she quickly removed her skirt and panties.
Standing in nothing but her bra and the high heels he had handed her, Miss Winters glanced around, not wanting to see the gleam she was certain was then in his eyes as they traveled over her body.
After many seconds of staring, Mr. South finally moved. He laid down the scissors and leaned sideways to reached into his pocket, pulling out a pair of keys on a simple spiral ring.
“I’m sure you’ve seen my display case over there.” Although he gestured to the wall behind her, she didn’t need to turn to see it. Almost every student in school knew of the display, even those who had yet to take his social studies class. The prevailing school joke was that his initials, H. S., stood for ‘hard spanking,’ for the display case contained half a dozen implements of corporal punishment. “I think we’ve established that you require punishment, but I’ll leave it up to you as to which device I will use. Now go select one.” He handed her the keys.
When she hesitated still, he took her skirt in his left hand and picked up the scissors in his right, bringing the cutting instrument toward the tartan cloth.
“No, no.” She turned and walked toward the case that was attached to the wall, head high above the floor. As she walked, she was well aware of the way the high heels were making her ass move. Once at the case, she could see his reflection in the glass front; he was staring at her, his elbow on the table, chin resting on his thumb and fingers curled over part of his mouth. A quick glance back confirmed what she thought she saw in the glass, a smile had formed on the side of his mouth that wasn’t covered by his fingers.
The display case was shallow, sticking out little more than a few inches from the wall. Two locks were located near each other in the center of the case; each would allow one side to be opened. She inserted one of the keys but before opening the door, she looked over the implements. A long, wooden paddle hung from a leather cord, and an all leather strap, hung next to it. Another leather device was to the right—it was much like the strap, only the leather was slit most of the way down its length in a way that produced three separate columns of narrow leather strips. It looked much thicker that the single strap and above it was a yellowed and slightly curled label, “Tawse.”
In the left side of the case was another wooden paddle, but this one was perforated with many holes. She wondered what kind of pattern it would make on an offender’s backside. To the far left was a thin cane, curled at the top to form what looked to be the grip of a short, but thin walking cane. ‘Rattan Cane,’ it was labeled. And between them was a plain stick, slightly bent, but showing the gnarls of its natural growth. ‘Hickory Stick,’ it was tagged.
“Come on, Miss Winters. If I have to come over there, I’ll select two and give you twice as many swats as I had planned. And believe me, I know which will deliver the greatest pain.”
She reached in and withdrew the strap, closed and locked the case.
As she walked back, she was keenly aware of Mr. South’s eyes watching her pubic bush moving with the strides of her gait. She paused a step away from him and defiantly held out the leather strap.
“Ah, the strap. Good choice. Makes a most appealing sound. Leaves some wonderful red welts too.” He hesitated, then took the leather device and the keys from her. For effect, he smacked his open palm with the strap. “Now take your clothes and put them on the student desk up there. No, the one all way to the front of the room.”
She knew he was enjoying her extra strides as she complied.
When she returned he said, “Come here, close in front of me.” His eyes slowly traveled the length of her body for long, lingering seconds before he next spoke. “Now turn sideways. Do you know why I have you wearing the high heels?”
“No. But please Mr. South…”
“Shh, this will be over soon. But I want you to think about what I’m going to do and why. The reason I want you in the heels is the way they bunch this muscle.” He reached out and cupped his hand over her calf. “And this muscle.” He ran his palm up the back of her leg until he slowly began squeezing her right ass cheek. “The strain of your muscles when you’re wearing high heels makes this one bulge out wonderfully. That will make it a much better target for the strap here.” He slid his hand over and gripped her other cheek, then cupped her ass right in the middle. Cupped it in a way that made his middle finger probe slightly between her cheeks, moving in, slowly inching into her ass very near her anus. “These are going to be burning very soon. Burning so hotly. Now move to the table. I want your thighs pressed against the edge.” He rose, but kept his hand on her ass as she took the two steps to the table and she knew that he was feeling every flex of her backside.
Mr. South moved very close, pressing his body solidly against hers. He laid the strap on the table where she could see it as he took her wrists in his hands and spread her arms out. “Now lean forward, I want your upper body flat on the table and your hands on the edges. Grip the sides. If you let go of the table as I give you the swats I will be forced to tie your wrists to the table legs. I will also give you twenty swats instead of the ten I now plan. That beautiful round ass of your can easily take ten swats. You’ll hardly notice them at all—in a week or so.” There was a sudden tone of amusement in his voice.
As she leaned forward, her ass pushed back, making tighter contact with the front of his groin. What she thought she had seen before, she was then certain she felt. His cock was pressing firmly against her buttocks. His very hard cock.
“Mr. South, please. I know you don’t want to hurt me. I know what you want. Let me please you instead.”
“Quiet.” He leaned back, picked up the strap and ran it over her ass, taking a moment to pat it lightly with the implement, making her soft flesh quiver. “It feels cold now, doesn’t it? But just wait.”
“No, no. Please! You wait. Let me show you something. All men want to see these, let me show you, let me stand up and show you, I beg you.”
“Quickly, I want to get this over with.”
She straightened and reached behind her to unhook her bra. “Look. Men love these. They are always looking at them. Here, feel them.” She took his free hand and brought it to her right breast.
“You’re not only a cheat, you’re a slut as well.”
“Yes, but I’m a good one. Let me show you.” Even as he squeezed her breast, she reached out and unbuckled his belt, opened his fly and pulled down his pants. His briefs quickly followed. “Oh yes, you want me. I knew it. You’re bigger than my boyfriend. Bigger than any man I’ve ever known.” She squatted down and took his cock in her mouth.
He stood motionless for several seconds as she bobbed up and down his cock. Then he placed the strap on the table and ran his fingers into her hair, pulling her even further down his cock. She gagged, then pushed back slightly so she could inhale.
“No! No. You’re not going to get off that easily, you bitch!” He shouted, and pulled out of her mouth, yanked her up by her arms and spun her around to shove her again over the table. Using both hands, he spread her ass cheeks as he pressed forward to ram his cock into her cunt.
She arched her back and let out a cry, then grabbed the table edges as she had been told to do, holding on as he pounded solidly into her. The table squeaked, then wobbled as the hammering continued, until he thrust three hard times, banging her solidly against the table edge, bellowing out with his release.
He pulled back, nearly tripping from his pants about his ankles, breathing so heavily that he wheezed. “Oh god!” He managed to exclaim.
Miss Winters pushed herself up from the table and turned around to face him. “You really banged me against the table, you asshole. I’m going to have a bruise from that.” She rubbed the area in question, looking down and over her large breasts.
“One of these days, I’m really going to use one of those things on you.” He said, motioning with his thumb toward his strange collection.
“In your dreams, Harold.” She encircled his neck with her arms, kissing him solidly for long seconds. When she broke the hot kiss, she said, “By the way, thanks for the new shoes. That was a nice touch. You surprised me. I almost lost my composure there.”
“You earned them. It’s always hard to think of something new.”
“Yes. Now it’s my turn for next time. I’ve got to think of some way to get even.” Then she paused before continuing. “Are you going to pick up a pizza on the way home?”
“Yeah, but I’d like to finish some of those papers first. You’re so lucky to teach six years olds—no papers to grade.”
“Yeah, well when was the last time one of your students peed his pants during recess?”
“Little Johnny?”
“Of course. Well don’t take too long. I really worked up an appetite here.” Then laughing and placing her hand along his cheek, she said, “You know we really should consider joining that community theater group. We’re pretty good actors. I understand they encourage married couples.”
“I don’t know if they’re ready for our kind of production.”
The End