Sarah stood in front of the mirror, her heart pounding—both fear and anticipation in her stomach.
At just over 5’, while not as tall as she would like to be her slim, petite body was one she was proud of. She would have liked bigger boobs, but was hoping they would still fill out a little more over the next couple of years and even so, on her holiday in Spain last year she was not short of attention from boys. Her school skirt was on the floor, and she was turned sideways, her blouse pulled up so she could see white cotton of her knickers, pulled tight across the cheeks of her bottom.
A bottom that she knew, by tomorrow morning, would be causing her pain, marked with the stripes of a caning – the first she’d ever known. She ran her fingers gently over the material, wondering how different it would feel this time tomorrow. Would it really hurt as much as they said it would? Her stomach clenched again at the thought; the picture in her mind as she bent over the desk, offering herself – willingly – for pain to be inflicted across her presently pristine, smooth bottom.
At eighteen years old, and now in upper sixth - Sarah thought her uniform days had been over. Until she had failed her basic maths for the third time in a row…..
A Month Earlier
Sarah has always known she couldn’t go to Uni without at least basic maths (even though she was studying art in sixth form) and so after her latest attempt ended in failure (mostly because she hated maths and just couldn’t be bothered to revise) her parents had found her a private tutor with a reputation second to none; he’d never had a student fail.
When she’d met her new tutor for the first time, he wasn’t at all what she expected; instead of some sixty-year-old retired ex-teacher, he was just twenty-seven - an accountant in a local firm offering additional maths tuition to earn some extra income. She’d actually found him pretty attractive if she was honest, but realistically “way out of her league” for anything more and besides, part of the deal was that although it was a private tuition, she had to carry on wearing her old school uniform (no longer required in Sixth form) to remind her that with Maths, she was yet to make the grade. But it also left her looking hardly glamorous, and certainly not the way she’d dress for a night out with her mates to go “on the pull!”
The one thing she did find strange on her first lesson was that he wore a full masters’ gown, and insisted she sat in the middle of the room at a traditional school desk – all very formal. It wasn’t until her first end-of-week test that she found out that his methods were "traditional" in more ways than just the dress code. She’d rushed the test, made several silly mistakes, ending up with just 34%. As he handed back her test, he looked at her sternly.
“You remember the tutor agreement you signed when we began, don’t you Sarah?
“Umm, yeah?” she mumbled, not sure where this was going.
“But did you read it?”
“Well, mostly, I guess?” she said. (In reality she’d skimmed over the first page which was all about payment, turning up on time, books she had to buy etc and ignored the rest.)
“So you’re aware what happens if you failed the tests.”
Sarah started to panic.
“Uh – no – what do you mean?"
“The consequences part. The part where you physically receive punishment if you fail to achieve what you came here to do.”
“Wh- what??” Sarah was confused. “Do my parents know about this?
“Of course they do – your parents know my methods and agree with them – they think it’s the only way you’re going to finally understand what it takes to get you maths test passed. Nevertheless, you're an adult and you're here of your own free will, so if you want to quit, that’s up to you - but as it also says in the agreement, your parents will still have to pay the course fees in full whether you stay or not. And besides - without your Maths, you won’t get to Uni – something I thought you really wanted?”
“I DO want to go to Uni, but what, you’re going to like, actually smack me or something?” she said incredulously.
“To start with. And then we move to more persuasive methods if that’s what it takes. So right now, I want you to stand up, remove your skirt and bend over that desk.”
Sarah was stunned. Was she really going to have to do this? She’d never been physically punished in her life, and the thought was both frightening as well as shameful – but she couldn’t help but realise it was also giving her a physical reaction she’d wouldn’t have expected – she could feel a tingle between her legs, and a sense of sexual tension in the room. She’d seen ‘Shades of Grey” a few months back with a couple of friends and while in truth it had excited her as a fantasy, she’d never thought about it as something she would do for real!
Feeling like she had little choice, and almost in a dream, she slowly stood up, released the button on her dress and let it fall to the floor. She moved it sideways with her foot, and reluctantly leant forward and put her hands on the desk.
“I said bend over, not lean on the desk for a rest. I want you bent RIGHT OVER the desk, grabbing the rail below.”
He’d almost shouted, and, startled, she draped her body over the desk, her breasts pressing against the hard surface as she reached for the rail at the front. Since she wasn’t that tall, she found she had to raise up on her toes to reach far enough to grasp the rail.
“Spread your feet – I want them either side of the legs of the desk,” he said firmly.
She moved her feet apart, and as she did so realised her pubic area was now resting on the edge of the desk, her white school pants stretched across her behind. She felt a slight chill between her legs as she suddenly realised the gusset of her knickers was actually slightly damp, her heart pounding as she waited to see what was to follow. Que? How could this possibly be making her feel sexy, bending over a desk and about to receive painful hand slaps across her fully exposed behind? It was confusing, but she couldn’t help but realise it was also very real, as she felt the dampness between her legs soaking into the gusset of her pants, stretched between her thighs
SLAP! Suddenly she felt his hand against her left buttock, and a stinging pain soaked through her behind. SLAP, SLAP – more strikes, and more stinging sensations as he worked his way around her now reddening behind. For what seemed ages, his hand rained down against her buttocks and she started to squirm against the desk in a futile attempt to escape the pain - before suddenly it stopped.
She heard him walk around the desk, and looked up to see him stood barely two feet in front of her – and his crotch, directly in front of her eyes. Her brain suddenly flashed images of what might be hidden there and the pain turned to a sudden rush of sexual tension as she pressed her own crotch against the desk, the stinging pain mingling with the dampness and aching between her legs.
For over a minute, there was silence, save for her panting breaths as she tried to absorb the pain in her backside and the confusion in her brain, all the while staring at his crotch just inches from her face.
“Stand up, put on your skirt and put your books away,” he said, breaking the silence. “Go home, get your books out and maybe this week you’ll put in more effort – if not, you know what will happen next week.”
Red-faced, Sarah pulled herself upright and tugged her skirt back up her legs trying to cover the shameful dampness between her legs.
“Thank you, sir – I will do my best,” she mumbled and stumbled out of the house.
As she walked home, she was confused. On the one hand, her bottom really stung, and she felt so ashamed of being smacked like some little girl – but yet the sexual feeling it had given her just wouldn’t leave. She rushed up the stairs as soon as she got home, lay on the bed and slowly moved her hand up her thigh, moving the skirt aside. She stroked herself through the wet dampness of her crotch, and almost gasped at the feeling that rushed through her body. Desperately she pushed the crotch of her knickers aside and thrust her fingers inside her, stroking, sliding in the wetness as she found the nub she was looking for and within seconds her body jerked and strained as she experienced the strongest orgasm she’d ever known.
As the endorphins soothed her sore behind and the calm feeling flooded through her, she realised that although she needed to pass her maths, and although the spanking had certainly been painful, these new maths lessons were undoubtably going to have a pleasurable side to them that she’d ever expected….
To be continued….
