Her footsteps echo down the long corridor, early evening sunlight shines through windows, onto plain, stark walls. Penny, more properly Penelope, stops for a moment; a knot of anxiety twisting her stomach, apprehension lining her pretty face. Pushing back her shoulders resolutely she continues, carefully checking the small brass numbers on each classroom door.
Barely an hour ago she’d been the epitome of a carefree young woman, now her demeanour resembles that of someone on their way to the dentist, anticipating a necessary but possibly painful encounter. At last, she finds the right room, a familiar smell of polish tinged with chalk dust wrinkles her nose.
The school is cathedral-like in its size and silence, a temple of learning designed to demand the obedience and respect of its scholars. The weight of history weighs heavily here. She shrugs back her expensively cut auburn bob, smooths down the regulation dark grey skirt. Catching her reflection in the glass of a framed picture of scholars from half a century before Penny takes a deep breath and enters the classroom.
In the five years since she left the sixth form at Redbrook Grammar, Penny Adams usually tossed flyers from the Old Pupil’s Association into the bin. Continually starved of government cash the school often contacted alumni in the hope of raising funds, but Penny, with a good degree from a respected redbrick, had so far resisted these nostalgia-driven appeals.
This time the newsletter caught her attention. ‘Last Days, your final chance to say farewell to the old school…’ Penny rapidly scanned the rest of the page. `Expensive repairs required… impossible to adapt… demolish and replace … ‘ She felt a sudden pang of regret. Typical, flog off a beautiful old building for housing developers to stick rabbit hutches on, then throw up a replacement as cheaply as possible and pocket the profit.
Hence a farewell dance, which previous pupils were invited to attend wearing their old school uniforms. Penny checked her calendar. She’d nothing planned on that day, it’d be a laugh to meet up with a few old mates and as for the uniform, it was packed away in her flat somewhere…
The evening is going well, everyone entering the spirit of the event and digging out their school old attire. Fortunately for Penny, her figure has altered little in the intervening years and the regulation blouse and skirt are a perfect fit. In the cause of authenticity, Penny adheres to the privileges permitted senior pupils in her day, a little lipstick, no jewellery, and sensible flat shoes. She might easily pass as a current pupil, albeit an uncommonly shapely and pretty one.
“Ms Adams,” a pleasant male baritone shows evident pleasure at her presence, “how very nice to see you.”
“You too,” replies Penny, heart skipping a beat at the sight of Nicolas Knight. Nicknamed ‘Goodnight’ by the many teenage girls who found his self-assured manner and dark good looks much to their liking. In common with several colleagues, he’s dressed in keeping with the theme and wears his graduation gown.
Mr Knight, “Nicolas, please, we’re informal”, was a patient teacher, an old-fashioned air of confidence adding to his allure and Penny had a massive crush on him during her final year. They reminisce amiably until, abruptly, his tone of voice acquires a harder edge.
“You did very well at university, Ms Adams, especially since you got there under false pretences.”
“False pretences?” replies Penny, puzzled.
“Indeed so,” a few inches taller, Nicolas peers sternly down at his former charge. “You’ll no doubt recall the disproportionate difficulties you had with mathematics?”
“I did try,” Penny sulks petulantly, a schoolgirl again, “just couldn’t retain the basics, the mere mention of geometry was enough to make me panic.” Her implicit appeal for his sympathy falls on deaf ears.
“As, I suspect, so will what I have to say next,” he answers.
Penny looks blankly back at her former teacher, anxious and uneasy. “In order to get a university place a grade C maths pass is a minimum requirement,” he continues. “I not only taught you but also invigilated the exam, during which I observed you copying equations from a concealed scrap of paper. I informed the headmaster, of course.”
Penny’s throat is dry, voice almost gone. “I wasn’t really cheating, just couldn’t remember stuff” she whispers lamely.
“The headmaster,” recalls Knight derisively, “more concerned with exam results and league tables, persuaded me, reluctantly, to keep my counsel.”
“Then it’s all in the past,” Penny sighs with relief.
“Not at all, young lady,” responds Mr Knight crisply. “Old exam papers and invigilator’s notes are kept for ten years. Brought to the attention of your employer they might well cause some embarrassment. “However,” he adds darkly, “there’s an upside to this dilemma. I’ve been appointed headmaster of the new school.”
“You?” says Penny, incredulously.
“Don’t look so surprised, my credentials and performance were judged more than up to the task.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to be disrespectful,” she answers quickly, eyes downcast, no longer the confident young professional but a wayward pupil brought to book.
“We thus have an ideal opportunity to resolve this disgraceful matter,” announces Mr Knight. “In two days the building will be demolished, who knows what old records might fortuitously go astray?” He raises an eyebrow, significantly.
Penny forces a desperate smile. “Oh, I see.”
“I very much doubt it,” Mr Knight responds sarcastically. “But now you’re appraised of the alternative, no doubt you’ll cooperate.”
Penny is acutely aware of being in very deep trouble. “I think some form of punishment is appropriate,” he continues “A short, sharp, retributory shock.”
“Punishment?” Penny gasps. “But I’m not a pupil here.”
“I thought you were following my line of reasoning,” Mr Knight answers sharply. “Remember, I still have the proof.”
“But that’s blackmail,” she whines.
“Don’t talk rubbish, girl,” he growls. “However, if you wish to be obdurate…”
“No, no I don’t,” Penny said, backtracking quickly. “I suppose some sort of penance is no more than I deserve.”
“Excellent. We’ll use the maths room, S3, on the opposite side of the school, to avoid any inconvenient disturbance.”
“What sort of punishment had you in mind?” she enquires cautiously, barely able to believe what is unfolding.
“I propose to cane you, Miss Adams,” he states frankly.
“Cane me!” Penny is thunderstruck. “But th-that’s illegal,” she stammers.
“It’s quite rightly illegal for a teacher to strike a pupil,” Mr Knight replies reasonably. “However, as you pointed out, you’re not a pupil here, but rather an adult, entering into a voluntary arrangement.”
“I’m being coerced,” she complains miserably.
“But unable to prove such an accusation,” Knight responds. “I will expect you there in five minutes, Miss Adams.”
Inwardly shaking, Penny panics. Caned, bent over, touching her toes; he wouldn’t, surely, lift her skirt? She crimsons at the thought, yet the tremor of fear is accompanied by another unexpected feeling, arousal. No one at school or home ever laid a punitive finger upon Penny. However, a boyfriend at university did once spank her. Only playfully, of course, fired with the vigour of youth no sooner had they finished one energetic bout of sex than he’d been ready for another. Penny had pretended to demur, in truth, she was as eager as he, but why not make him wait?
During the ensuing tussle she’d found herself pinned across his knee where, despite her struggles and the initial sting, Penny was soon aware of a warm tingling sensation spreading through her loins. The impromptu spanking made her most intimate parts melt with desire in a way nothing else had, before or since. Entered from behind, grasped by the hips and shafted to a shattering orgasm, Penny subsequently tried several times to provoke a repeat performance but was out of luck. This time, Penny’s chastisement will be delivered by the embodiment of authority, not a lover. With a sigh, she slips quietly out of the hall and down the corridor to meet her fate.
The classroom is little changed; amid battered wooden furniture and institutional green paint, time has stood still. Mr Knight stands imposingly at the front of the room flexing a slender rattan cane that hypnotically attracts Penny’s eyes.
“Discovered at the back of the store cupboard,” the new Head of Redbrook swishes it loudly through the air, making Penny wince. “No doubt I’ll soon get a lively reaction out of you,” he observes wryly, walking slowly towards her. “Your punishment will be in two instalments. A dozen strokes of the cane for having the vulgarity to cheat, prior to which you’ll be thoroughly spanked.”
“Twelve strokes?” Penny repeats in a small voice, this is far worse than she’d feared.
“Indeed,” Knight confirms with unseemly relish, placing two straight-backed chairs side by side. Transfixed, like a small mammal beguiled by a snake, Penny is unable to move. Knight sits on the right-hand chair and beckons her to him. Eyes wide, moist lips slightly parted, she obeys. In one smooth move Knight pulls her across his lap. “The spanking first,” he says, “to ensure this insolent bottom is properly warmed up for its encounter with the cane.”
Toes just touching the floor, Penny’s torso rests upon the second chair. She tenses then gives an inadvertent cry as her spanking begins, Knight’s hard hand slapping down, each impact amplified by her tight skirt. After twenty or so such swats, Penny becomes painfully aware of the cumulative effect. She wriggles in protest, pussy chafing against the solid muscles of his thighs. By way of rebuke Knight pins her slender waist, ending Penny’s futile struggles.
“Hardly appropriate to complain now, Ms Adams,” he observes unsympathetically. Lifting the hem of her skirt he bunches it around her waist, feeling his loins stiffen at the sculptural perfection of Penny’s long legs, taut thighs and girlish white ankle socks. Knight’s fingertips brush across her panty-clad crotch, sending tremors of desire through her moistening sex. Penny moans rapturously at this unexpectedly gentle respite, sighing with pleasure as he slips a finger beneath her knickers to gauge her growing wetness. Gasping and squirming, dishevelled and confused, she writhes across his lap. Her bottom burns fiercely, and the void between her legs aches to be filled.
“Ooh, my poor bum is so sore,” Penny groans, “enough, please.”
“I’ll be the judge of that,” says Knight, delivering a sustained volley of slaps. Sharp bands of pain imprint themselves on the length of her thighs. Penny shrieks, then slumps across his knees, humiliated and sobbing loudly.
Sensing that, temporarily at least, Penny has reached her limit Knight tugs her knickers into her overly sensitised cleft, increasing the pressure on her now inundated pussy. Pushing the thin strip of material aside he expertly spreads her labia. She gasps at the wanton rudeness of the situation, held fast, bum smacked to a livid crimson, most private parts rudely opened for her stern tormentor’s voyeuristic pleasure. Penny groans helplessly as Knight begins to tease her clitoris.
“Oh Christ,” she whispers distractedly, “you’re going to make me come.” A finger circles her pleasure spot, another penetrates and plunders her velvet sheath, faster and faster. Simultaneously Knight resumes her spanking, and the combination of the two exquisitely conflicting sensations soon ensures Penny’s climax.
Eventually, she stands shakily, skirt around her waist, blouse buttons unable to contain her prominent breasts, the embodiment of a properly punished schoolgirl. Carefully rubbing her hot bottom, she looks pleadingly at Mr Knight.
“If you think for a moment that cute, winsome expression will earn you clemency forget it,” he growls. “Follow me.”
“Where are we going,” Penny asks in a quavering voice.
“To the gymnasium,” he replies brusquely.
In the centre of the large echoing space stands a solitary gym horse. Mr Knight waits impatiently, cane clasped behind his back.
“Knickers off and hand them over,” he snaps. Fumbling, clumsy, she complies, blushing as she doffs the skimpy material. “Sit astride the top,” he instructs. Placing both hands onto the cool leather Penny eases herself astride it, laying her torso forward, legs hanging down on each side. With a grunt of approval, Mr Knight pulls the tie from her collar and binds her wrists.
“Don’t want you struggling,” he explains before pushing the damp panties between her teeth. “Don’t want you screaming the place down, either,” he adds. “And believe me, by the time you’ve taken the first six strokes you’ll be in fine voice.” Leisurely he enjoys the view, the position lewdly opening her bottom cheeks to reveal intimate secrets.
The first stroke jolts her forward and, even as the rattan bounces back from her indented flesh a line of fire sears across her haunches. Her anguished shriek is muffled into a gurgle of distress as Penny’s bound hands struggle for grip. A second parallel stroke follows, then a third in rapid succession, scoring livid wheals of angry red fire across her gorgeous bottom. Three more merciless cuts find their target, biting harshly into her tender sit-spot. Penny lies shaking and helpless before her erstwhile teacher.
Lifting her effortlessly Mr Knight pulls the panties from Penny’s mouth and hushes an incipient wail of anguish with a finger upon her lips. Strong arms drape her, whimpering and bare-bottomed, sideways across the large bolster, buttocks supported at its highest point, toes just touching the floor.
In comparison with her previous thrashing, the final six are almost tokens, a series of skilful flicks applied to the outer flanks of her cheeks and the tops of her thighs. Peering back, she sees Mr Knight drop the cane and move his hand to the front of substantially distended trousers. He can’t be intending to… but why not? She’s in no state to stop him and, surreptitiously grinding her hips against the leather apparatus, Penny feels a shameful surge of sexual excitement.
“No, you shouldn’t…” Penny protests unconvincingly as he opens his trousers to free an impressive erection.
“I most certainly should,” Knight says, sliding his cock into her hot, wet pussy.
“Please,” she wails, “I can’t take all that!”
“Can and will,” he mocks, forcefully entering, stretching her to the limit, penetrating every centimetre of her vagina. Eyes closed in perfect bliss Penny winces as her sore buttocks meet his muscled abdomen. Masterfully fucked she surrenders to the all-consuming ecstasy of a shuddering orgasm. Holding out a few seconds longer Knight withdraws and comes copiously over her lividly marked bottom cheeks.
Later, as Mr Knight solicitously drives her home, Penny smiles impishly. “I’m sure you’ll find plenty of reasons to take this naughty girl in hand in the future, sir,” she says seductively.
“This was a one-off,” retorts Knight shortly. “You paid the price and that’s an end to it.”
“No, it isn’t,” she counters smugly. “Just think,” Penny continues, “what might happen to the career of a new headteacher if his private life were exposed to public scrutiny.”
“You wouldn’t…” he begins, suddenly pale and a good deal less confident.
“Oh yes, “Penny insists with a wicked giggle. “Believe me, sir, I really would. It looks as if I’m going to require further correction, and aftercare, in future.” Honestly, she is so bad…
