Miss Chastain’s office was a spacious room on the first floor, with windows on three sides overlooking the playing fields. The afternoon had become blisteringly hot, and she had the wooden blinds pulled down over the open windows. Four o’clock was the hour set aside for discipline, and as we waited for Rachel to arrive, the French teacher explained the school policy.
When I took the job, I knew that St Mary’s used corporal punishment, but I imagined it was something that happened very rarely. That afternoon, I realised I had been very wrong indeed.
“The board demands it and the parents pay for it,” she concluded.
“I’m not comfortable with this at all,” I said. “I won’t be doing that with my class, I can tell you that. They are eighteen years old, for heaven’s sake. They’re basically adults.”
“You must do as you see fit, Mr Johnson, but I will tell you this for free. You won’t make many friends with the other teachers if you allow discipline to lag in your class.”
There was something about Miss Chastain’s appearance that made her difficult to argue with. She was a well-preserved woman in her early forties with neat little features and blond hair pulled back in a severe bun. Every day, no matter the weather, she came to school in a navy blue suit with a tight knee-length skirt and dark stockings. Her discipline, I had learned from the other teachers, was legendary.
“Now, let me explain the procedure so that you can do it correctly.”
Before she could begin, there was a timid knock on the door.
“Come in.”
Rachel entered the room meekly, closed the door behind her, and came to stand in front of her teacher, her head bowed. Once again, I noticed her absolute obedience to Miss Chastain, so different from how she behaved around me.
“Wait over there, Rachel, while I explain things to Mr Johnson.”
“The number of strokes,” Miss Chastain went on, “is set for each offence. Check the teacher’s manual for the full list. Rachel is here for using a mobile phone in class and will receive five strokes.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Rachel flinch.
“You must explain the reason for the punishment and the number of strokes. And you must have the student’s consent. Rachel, do you understand why you are being punished?”
“Yes, Miss Chastain.”
“And do you accept your punishment?”
“Yes, Miss.”
“Very good. Get ready then.”
Rachel sat down on a chair by the door and started unlacing her trainers.
Miss Chastain continued:
“The girl should remove her outer garments, including shoes, skirt, and sweater. They get in the way. Then she must take up position over a desk or table with her elbows down.”
As she was speaking, Rachel unzipped her grey school skirt and slid it down her legs. My heart leapt, thinking I would see her nakedness, but as she stood upright and folded the skirt, I saw that she was now wearing the proper white knickers, matching her shirt and ankle socks. They were as skimpy as the blue pair had been.
With her head down, she walked over to the large oak desk at the centre of the office, and leant forward over it. The sunlight, shining through the half-closed blinds, made thin stripes on the back of her firm young legs. The outline of her pert little bottom was visible through the thin cotton fabric, and her shirt had ridden up her back as she leant forward, exposing her slim waist. I felt my cock twitch with excitement and hastily sat down on a leather couch in front of the window.
Miss Chastain now went round to the front of the desk, opened a drawer, and brought out a thin wooden paddle, about twelve inches long. She slapped it against her palm a few times as she took up position behind the defenceless, half-naked girl.
“We find a paddle more effective than a bare hand,” she said, glancing towards me with a smile.
I nodded but didn’t return her smile. Miss Chastain was enjoying this, I suddenly realised.
“Pull down your knickers Rachel,” she said, almost gently.
“Yes, Miss.”
The girl lifted her elbows off the desk again and stood upright just long enough to slip her fingers under the waistband and slide her panties down to her thighs. She leant forward, and as she did so, she glanced at me over her shoulder. I saw that she was afraid, and I gave her an encouraging smile.
Miss Chastain lifted the paddle shoulder high and brought it down sharply.
THWACK!
The force of the blow shuddered through the girl’s body and she had to grip the edge of the desk to keep her balance. There was a little whimper of pain and shock.
THWACK!!
The second blow was stronger. The muscles of Rachel’s legs tightened and the wind was knocked out of her. She cried out in pain and her elbows slipped on the desk so that she was lying chest down. Her eyes were closed by her mouth was wide open.
Miss Chastain paused before the third blow. Something was not quite right. She transferred the paddle to her other hand, then curled one finger around the elastic of Rachel’s panties and pulled them firmly down a couple more inches. She lifted the paddle for the next blow.
Brrr!!! Brrr!!!
On the desk next to Rachel’s head, the phone rang.
“Oh, what now?!” Miss Chastain exclaimed, clearly annoyed. She put the paddle down and picked up the phone.
“Yes? … Well, I’m busy with Johnson and Rachel. Can it wait until later?.... I see…”
She put down the phone and sighed, then turned to address me:
“Mrs Dulbery is having one of her crises, I’m afraid. I shall have to leave you.”
“I’ll come with you,” I said.
“No, no. It’s quite enough to waste my time without wasting yours as well. Perhaps you could finish Rachel’s punishment, though. It will be good practice for you.”
“I really can’t…”
“Nonsense. Come over here.”
As I reluctantly crossed the room, she held out the wooden paddle.
“Three to go,” she said. “And don’t go too easily on her. I know what softies you men are.”
“I really don’t know how,” I explained, taking the paddle.
“I’m sure a keen tennis player like yourself can manage a spanking, Mr Johnson. I suggest you use your forehand.”
She snorted at this remark, which I realised was meant as a joke, Miss Chastain abruptly left the room, slamming the door behind her.
Rachel had not moved during this exchange, but with Miss Chastain out of the room, I half expected her to jump up and make a run for it. To my surprise though, she remained obediently leaning over the desk. Her firm young bottom, marked by a little triangle of paler skin the shape of a bikini, now glowed with a single pink circle on each cheek.
“What are you waiting for?” she asked.
“I’ve never done this before.”
“Just do it, alright? Get it over.”
“Why do you want me to hit you?” I asked, shocked by her aggressive tone.
“Better you than her.”
“Fine,” I said. If I had my doubts before, this latest sign of Rachel’s disrespect removed them.
I lifted the paddle and brought it down.
Thwack!
It was not as hard as Miss Chastain but hard enough to make Rachel cry out. Her legs squeezed together and her buttocks clenched. Her groin thrust against the desk. When she untensed her muscles again, her panties slipped down to her ankles.
Thwack!!
Rachel groaned, and her elbows slipped sideways with the force of the blow. For a few seconds, she remained there, her head lying sideways, her eyes were closed and her mouth hung open, breathing heavily.
“Last one!” she gasped.
THWACK!!
The final blow left her panting and groaning. But my shock at Rachel’s reaction was less extreme than the shock at my own. A sense of power had surged through me. My cock was stiff in my boxers, and it was with great difficulty that I restrained myself from plunging my hand between Rachel’s legs.
She lay there for a minute, recovering, breathing heavily.
“You’ve got to do the ointment,” she said finally.
“What?”
“It’s here on the desk.”
She pointed and for the first time, I noticed, next to the neat pile of exercise books on Miss Chastain’s desk, a large tub of aloe vera gel.
“What am I supposed to do with that?”
“Just rub it in,” she said. “So there’s not any swelling.”
“You really want me to do that?”
“It’s the rules,” she said. “You have to.”
I shook my head in disbelief, but I was too aroused now for any moral scruples. I opened the tub, took a big handful of the cool jelly, and started to rub it over Rachel’s bare bottom.
To my surprise, she moaned softly with pleasure and started to rub herself against my hand.
“Thank you,” she sighed.
Closing her eyes, she lay forward peacefully on the desk and reached out a hand towards me. She wanted me to hold it. The gesture touched me and I reached out to hold her.
I took another handful of the aloe vera gel and started to massage her firm young legs, all the way down to her calves and back up, until she was shiny and wet with the jelly. As Rachel groaned again, she let go of my hand and unbuttoned a couple of buttons of her shirt.
“Don’t stop, Mr Johnson,” she whispered, slipping a hand inside her skirt.
Once again, I took a scoop of the aloe vera, and rubbed the slippery gel between her legs. With gentle fingers, I explored and probed her wetness. With each passing moment, I felt her body softening and opening.
Mad with desire now, I undid the buckle of my belt, unzipped my slacks, and let them drop to the floor.
But Rachel, sensing what was on my mind, gently prevented me.
“Not that way,” she begged.
She pushed herself away from the desk and turned to look at me. Her eyes were heavy with lust and I saw she was too horny to control herself. Then a playful smile came over her face and she gave a little laugh.
“Do you like me, Mr Johnson?”
“Rachel, of course I do.”
“Do you want to go to bed with me?”
She giggled and without warning, thrust out her hand and made a clumsy grab for my cock. Her inexperience was obvious, but she gripped me tightly through my boxers and awkwardly tried to stroke me.
I held her by the wrists and lifted her hands gently away from my cock.
“Rachel, wait…”
She smiled coquettishly and looked deeply into my eyes.
“Are you going to kiss me?”
As she said it, her fingers were undoing the last buttons on her shirt. And now she slipped from my grasp and let the garment slip to the floor.
She was naked now, all except for the little white ankle socks and her bra, pushed up over her round full breasts. And now she lifted that over her head and let it drop.
“You are perfect,” I said.
Rachel giggled with pleasure, then lifted her arms high above her head and performed a little dance.
“All for you, Mr Johnson.”
Overcome with desire now, I cradled her lovely head in my hands and showered her face and neck with kisses.
Rachel wrapped her arms around my neck then gave a little jump and wrapped her legs tightly around my waist. As we kissed, I pulled her close and felt her open damp lips sliding along the length of my cock. Reaching down, I shoved my boxers down, and slipped my penis inside her.
“Oh, Mr Johnson.”
“Oh, Rachel...”
Suddenly, the door burst open and Miss Chastain strode into the room.
Rachel screamed and dropped to the floor. I grabbed my underwear and tried desperately to cover my swollen cock.
“Holy Mary Mother of God!” said Miss Chastain.
***
Twenty minutes later…
“Fifty strokes,” said Miss Chastain. “Do you understand why you are being punished?”
“Yes, Miss.”
“And do you accept your punishment?”
“Yes, Miss.”
“Very well then. Remove your jacket, your shoes, your trousers, and your underwear. In fact, as you have a long shirt, I think we will just have you naked.”
Without a murmur, I obediently stripped off my clothes and leant over the desk.
“You really are an athlete, aren’t you, Mr Johnson,” she said, admiringly, and gave my arse a firm pinch. “Now, I hope you understand your punishment, but I don’t like to leave these things to chance. Rachel will replay your crimes during your spanking. My dear, could you assist please?”
“Yes, Miss.” Fully dressed now, Rachel came over to my right-hand side, and knelt down. She wrapped her left arm tightly around my leg, then reaching up with her other hand, curled her fingers firmly around my cock and started to stroke.
“Wank him off, Rachel.”
“Yes, Miss.”
“Is he nice and hard?”
“Yes, Miss.”
THWACK!!!
