I’m taking you back, once more to my schooldays. When I was between the ages of 17 and 18 or thereabouts, I was in what was known at my school as the sixth form. If you’ve read any other of my stories of those far off days (see for example ‘In at the deep end’), you’ll remember that I was at a single sex Grammar School and that the girls had their own school of a similar status which was known as ‘The High School’. The two schools shared some facilities but the only one I’ve told you about so far was the Swimming Pool. However, we also shared some teaching facilities, which meant that sixth form boys would attend the High School for some lessons and sixth form girls would come over to the Grammar for some of theirs.
On the particular time which forms the subject of this tale, I was attending a class at the High School during the final teaching session of the afternoon. All teachers at the High School were women just as all Grammar School teachers were men. This particular class was being taken by the Head Mistress, a short dumpy woman, probably in her early forties. I was not taking the class seriously and I have to admit that I was distracting several of the girls around me and HM asked me to stay behind after the class; not for the first time, I have to confess. She told me she was going back to her study and that she required me to come there in a quarter of an hour.
When I got there, she invited me in and immediately started to lecture me about my lack of concentration in her teaching and how disruptive I was being to my class mates of both sexes. I should pay more attention; if I didn’t want good grades and get into a good university, I shouldn’t wreck other people’s chances etc. She had told me about this before and obviously words weren’t enough so now she was going to take sterner measures.
She went to the cupboard and came back with her cane. She told me to bend over her desk which I did (being caned in those days was a regular event in everyone’s life… boys and girls). However, this particular teacher (and I forget her name) was unused to caning boys. Maybe the stroke she gave me across the seat of my trousers would have caused a girl to howl if it had been given over her skirt or knickers, but I hardly felt it. The eroticism of being caned by a woman (any woman!) had very much occurred to me. I had already had many fantasies about beating and being beaten by girls and women….. and obviously this included most of the teaching staff at the High School and certainly included the Head! If anything, I was disappointed because I was already very much aroused by the situation! (as I am now, writing about it). I waited in position for the next, but she told me that ‘She hoped that that would teach me a lesson and that I could go’.
I stood up and unfastened my belt and hooking my fingers into the waistband of my underpants and trousers together, pulled them down to my knees, and bent over the desk again. I invited her to have a proper target to aim at.
She was obviously very embarrassed and told me to cover myself immediately. My response was to shuffle over to the door with my pants round my ankles and lock it, come back to the desk and ask if I should assume the position over it again. When she seemed lost for words I asked if she’d prefer it if I went over her knee. I think it was at this point that she noticed my erection poking out under my shirt because that’s when she gasped. She called me a ‘dirty beast’ ordered me back over her desk and picking up her cane again, gave me another cut across the centre of both buttocks, harder than the first, but nothing like the stroke a Grammar School master would have given me, even with trousers and underpants in the way. I wriggled my bottom at her and gave myself a little rub and asked for another one ‘Please’ but ‘Harder’.
She gave me two more in quick succession and I could feel that she was getting the hang of it….. allowing her own feelings to take control. I’ve always (right up to the present time) thought that teachers who administer corporal punishment, do it because they personally get something out of it. I don’t believe there has ever been a teacher who has ever had to spank, strap, slipper, cane, birch, paddle (or use any other device) on an upturned bottom of either sex who has thought ‘Well just get this over and I can get on with marking those books!’ Miss (and I’ve just remembered her name) Adams (nicknamed… what else…. Fanny….. and she was a ‘Miss’… not just a courtesy title) allowed the cane to rest on my bottom just too long after that second stroke and actually rubbed it across the marks that I could feel from the strokes. I think because she was used only to caning girls, she was surprised that I wasn’t in tears by now, so she stepped back and let fly with two more and these were much harder causing me to actually flinch although it was partly because my throbbing erection crashed into the desk top on the second impact.
She ordered me to stand up and turning to face her I could see the flush on her face and listening to her tortured breathing, knew she was ‘hooked’. I asked if she wanted me over her knee and she opened her desk and took out a slipper which in my day was in common use in British schools and consisted of a well worn gymn shoe with a very thin and flexible sole. Kicking my trousers and underpants off, I climbed over her knee and accepted a dozen hard swats. At the end of this we both stood up and as the end of my cock brushed against her hand, she gasped. I moved back, allowing it to happen again and this time, a glistening drop of pre-cum caught on her knuckles. I dropped to my knees in front of her and reaching up and under her skirt, pulled her knickers down to her knees in one easy flowing motion. Her face was flushed and once more she gasped and in doing so, dropped the slipper on the floor.
I picked it up and sat on the chair so recently vacated by ‘Fanny’ Adams and reaching up pulled her over my knee. She struggled but I soon realised that this was just for the look of it; the last thing she actually wanted was for it all to stop now! She was wearing a sort of tweed skirt and black cotton knickers which were still stretched tight at knee level. I coped with her struggling with one hand holding the slipper and pressing down on the small of her back and with my free hand pulled her knickers down to her ankles and off onto the floor. She continued to struggle and kick her legs but it soon occurred to me that she was not shouting at me to stop with any real, sense of urgency. Well, to keep repeating over and over again, ‘Oh please stop this…. Please don’t spank my bottom….. Please don’t take my knickers down and spank my bare bottom……….. Please stop’ in such a quiet little voice was not the way to summon her staff to rush to the rescue. I don’t think she wanted to be rescued at all! I think that the situation she now found herself in was the sort of thing she had fantasised about for years! It wasn’t far from my own fantasies either!
I spanked her a few times across the seat of her skirt, but the thought of that mature, rounded female backside, uncovered by knickers, just under a layer of tweed and with only a second layer of tweed between this woman’s cunt and my twitching cock was too much for me and although the upward surge of tweed across the end of my prick, as I tore the garment over her back, almost made me cum there and then …..
Her bottom, plump, rounded, white with a light pink flush from the few spanks given so far, lay before me. I dropped the slipper and spanked the upward thrusting cheeks several times with the palm of my hand, not taking that palm away after impact for a few seconds each time. Her buttocks flattened each time I walloped them and shook like jelly when I lifted my hand.
She was, of course wearing nylon stockings and a suspender belt (garter belt in the US), this being in the days before tights/pantyhose and certainly before hold-ups. All women wore stockings in those days and usually coloured tan. In a work situation these would be 'seamed' and it was essential that the smart working woman kept her seams straight. Horny young men would look at a woman's seams and their eyes would follow them up under the skirt hem (in their imaginations) to hidden delights. I didn't have to use my imagination. It was there right in front of me!
One leg dropped from my lap and as I reached under her thigh to haul it back into place across my own thighs I caught sight of the glistening moisture caught in the hair between her buttocks, now opened to my gaze. I ran my fingers along her soaking bottom crack and heard her gasp at the touch. I repeated the action and felt her spasm as my cock stiffened further under her belly. She reached under me and grasped it, squeezing hard as I teased my finger tips around her, by now, gaping vagina. I gave her another dozen or so hard hand spanks over her bottom and thighs and watched her bottom cheeks part ever wider and with increasing abandon. Her vagina was by now wide open and exuding fluid which was running onto my own naked thighs. Her bottom and thighs were hot to touch and crimson in colour. My cock was fully erect, rampant and oozing pre-cum.
There was a solid looking armchair in the study and I stood up and led her over to it. I made her kneel up with one knee on each arm with her head over the bac and her bottom in the air. I climbed up behind her and slid my cock into her cunt. There was no resistance. I thrust half a dozen times into her while she reached under herself and rubbed her clitty; as she sensed my own imminent orgasm she begged me not to cum inside her and so with a great effort I pulled out and sprayed jets of thick creamy semen over her back, bottom and thighs from where it dripped down onto the seat cushion. Shortly afterwards she jerked forwards and with a long sigh and a general relaxing of tensed muscles made me realise that her own climax had also taken place.
She turned round and I could see that she was very embarrassed but I told her that she had no cause to worry and that it was something I'd wanted very much all the time I'd been attending her classes and that I still respected her as a teacher and wanted her guidance on my career. I also said that if she wanted to repeat what had happened that afternoon then I was willing if she was.
She asked what time I was expected home and then suggested she drove me home when she had tidied herself and her classroom. I agreed and waited for her in the carpark. Her house was in the same area that I lived in with my parents, although we lived further out of town. She showed me her place on the way.
I called there often over the following year before I went up to Uni.