As Emma walked along the street feeling self-conscious about being in her old school green and white check gingham dress, short-sleeved with a white belt, she thought back towards the conversation she had had with Mrs Mason.

Emma was twenty-three and a trainee teacher at the girls' school where Mrs Mason was the headmistress. Three days ago, Emma had her first annual review with Mrs Mason, just like all the teachers had. Everyone knew it was teacher annual review time, even the Eastern European cleaning staff, one of whom had said, "Nervous, Miss?" when Emma emerged from a toilet cubicle just before her scheduled meeting with the headmistress.

"I'm just fine, thank you," Emma had retorted, affronted that a mere cleaner should speak to her with such familiarity.

The girls were just as bad. As Emma was sitting primly on one of the chairs in the corridor outside Mrs Mason's Study, one of the lower sixth girls, passing by, remarked, "Lucky they don't cane teachers eh, Miss Tomkinson?"

Emma managed to respond, "Don't be so cheeky, Patricia, or you will be sitting here tomorrow morning!" She was pleased when Patricia realised how cheeky she had been to a teacher and scuttled off.

All in all, Emma was pleased that her review had been mainly good, although Mrs Mason had also indicated two of three areas in which there was room for improvement. Near the end of the review meeting, Mrs Mason had asked Emma, in a helpful tone, "Is there anything I can do to help you with your work here?"

As it happened, Emma had quite a crush on Mrs Mason. When at the same school a number of years earlier as a student she had friends who had been caned by Mrs Mason and who had shown off their marks in the changing rooms. Emma had been fascinated by the fierce red lines across their bottoms and how some of the girls even seemed proud of their stripes as some sort of mark of honour. One of her friends had remarked, "Better six strokes of Mrs Mason's cane than three hours of boring detention!"

Emma had often imagined herself being caned by Mrs Mason, but, as one of the better-behaved and hard-working students that had never happened. It had not stopped her from fantasising about it though, even once she had started working as a trainee teacher at the school.

In line with the school's safeguarding requirements, a witness was required to be present at canings, presumably to make sure that the caning was at a reasonable level of severity, although not overly severe. Emma had been asked several times to be the witness to girls being caned. She loved watching as the girl in question dropped her regulation school knickers to her knees, bent over Mrs Mason's desk, tucked up her grey skirt so that it rested on her lower back exposing her bottom and clasped the far side of the desk for stability. Emma loved, even more, watching as one by one the pink lines slowly began to appear and redden across the girl's pale skin as the girl gasped and sometimes sobbed.

When it was all over, Mrs Mason would say, 'That is all Patricia, or whatever the girl's name was, please rearrange your clothing and then you may go.' The girl would do as she was told and then on leaving would say, ever so politely, 'Thank you for my punishment, Miss.'

Emma had even been thinking about the canings during the review meeting, and when asked the question she replied, "I'm wondering how the girls feel when they get the cane Headmistress, and how many strokes are needed for it to be an effective punishment?" Emma blushed as she realised how personal her question was, and added, "If you d-don't m-mind me asking your opinion on the subject Headmistress? I m-mean I was a g-good girl at school and so I don't know what it's like, how much it hurts and so on."

Mrs Mason smiled both at the request and at Emma's reaction to it. She reckoned Emma hadn't properly thought things through and so, deciding to have some fun herself, replied, "You know, Emma, those are very good questions. You've seen me cane a number of girls here and I know from the punishment records that you were never caned when you were a girl at the school. You might be interested to know that I've never been caned myself because I was a good girl at school too, but from what I've observed caning affects different girls in different ways. I am sure that the firm crack of my cane on a girl's bottom is sharply painful because the girls usually gasp, but the naughtier girls try very hard to give the impression that it doesn't really hurt, while the less naughty girls seem to feel the pain and the shame more and often finish up crying. As for how many strokes, I decide that based on the girl's past punishment record and whether previous canings have produced any improvement in behaviour. Also, it's not only girls who get caned Emma, on occasion teachers have requested to be caned by me for breaches of staff rules instead of suffering a reduction in pay for example or being dismissed."

Mrs Mason smiled to herself knowing most of what she had just said was untrue, especially regarding the caning of the teachers. However, she was having fun winding Emma up.

Emma was taken aback by what Mrs Mason had just told her, and asked, "S-so who witnesses those canings, Headmistress?"

Mrs Mason replied with a straight face, "Oh, there's usually somebody appropriate around for the witnessing role. On one occasion I remember there was a policewoman visiting the school to give a talk to the girls and I asked her to be the witness. She was delighted to be asked, and after seeing the trainee teacher pulling her knickers back up while sobbing with shame remarked that she wished the police were allowed to give young criminals a good caning. Another time, I asked one of the students' mothers' who happened to be in the school to be witness to a teacher's caning and the poor teacher was doubly humiliated because she taught the lady's daughter and knew she was bound to tell her daughter about it. I've found that the shame involved in having such people witness their caning is highly effective in avoiding future breaches of staff rules by teachers."

"Gosh, I never knew about that," said Emma, looking rather alarmed.

"Probably because it doesn't happen very often," responded Mrs Mason, "but don't worry Emma, you haven't broken any staff rules as far as I'm aware, so you're not likely to face that consequence."

"Thank you, Headmistress," responded Emma, with relief.

After a few moments of silence and seeing that Emma was still deep in thought, and blushing, Mrs Mason added, "However, thinking more about your question as to how the girls 'feel,' caning is an important part of the school's disciplinary process and the better it is understood by the staff the better for the school. You are still a trainee teacher and I could, if you wish, arrange from a training point of view for you to be caned and then you could write me a report on how the experience feels and how many strokes you think are needed to be effective based on your own experience. It could be very useful research and help inform how many punishment strokes need to be used for various offences in the future. We could even share such a report with the board of governors and senior staff. What do you think?"

Emma blushed the deepest red she had ever blushed, "W-well, Headmistress, if it might be useful to the school, perhaps that might be a w-worthwhile initiative to consider, b-but who would do the caning?"

"I would be happy to help out with that," replied Mrs Mason. "What do you think if we say you come to my house on Saturday afternoon and I deal with you then, rather than cause you possible embarrassment by caning you here in my study with my PA listening in the outer office?"

Emma was thinking a thousand thoughts at the same time, but none of them said, "No." Anyway, it would tick so many boxes for her, and if Mrs Mason didn't mean it, then she would withdraw the offer in any case. So, Emma replied eagerly, "Saturday? Yes, Headmistress, I could certainly come to you then."

Mrs Mason was surprised that Emma was so positive about this idea, but, then, she was quite used to caning the girls at the school and Emma wasn't so much older as five years wasn't very much, and she also had a schoolgirl figure, except for slightly firmer breasts. So, she replied with a straight face, "Shall we say two o'clock?"

Emma swallowed with nervousness, but replied, "Yes, that works very well for me, Mrs Mason."

The meeting had ended soon afterwards and both Emma and Mrs Mason got on with their jobs. Emma couldn't stop thinking about the coming weekend though, and whenever she saw Mrs Mason her pussy pulsed on the inside, just like it did when she was getting turned on. What Emma didn't know was that Mrs Mason was fascinated by Emma's interest in getting caned and could not help wondering herself what it would be like to be caned. After all, she had caned so many girls' bottoms, it did not seem fair that she had never experienced it herself. In a moment, though, Mrs Mason pulled herself together and reminded herself that she was the headmistress and such thoughts were entirely out of the question.

When Saturday morning came Emma just couldn't settle properly and decided to mark some student papers to calm herself down. It still didn't stop her from thinking about what was going to happen in the afternoon and she knew that she needed to get into the right mindset. Of course, she didn't know whether Mrs Mason would tell her it was all just a joke, but then what if it wasn't and she really was going to cane her?

To get into the right frame of mind Emma decided she would wear her old school dress. She had worn it just a few weeks ago at a fancy-dress party and had had to let it out just a little bit, but it fitted very well. So, with her house being a fifteen-minute walk from Mrs Mason's she used that time to think of herself as a naughty schoolgirl, and even enjoyed the glances she got suggesting some of the people she passed thought she really was a schoolgirl.

As Emma walked up the path to Mrs Mason's front door she felt the same suppressed panic that the school girls would have felt when entering the outer office of Mrs Masons study. She smiled to herself as she wondered whether any of the school girls felt as equally turned on as she did, and was pretty sure that whilst most just saw it as a painful punishment, there would have been those who were as turned on as she was right then. Whether she would still be feeling turned on afterwards she would have to wait to see, all, of course, assuming that Mrs Mason would actually discipline her.

As it got closer to two o'clock Mrs Mason was wondering how the afternoon would go. She had invited Emma to her house with the promise of being caned and had already decided that she would leave it up to Emma to decide whether she wanted that to happen or not. However, still maintaining the joke, she did wear her office clothes for a school day, being a short-sleeved white blouse and dark blue skirt. She decided that her legs could stay bare because there was no reason to wear tights in the warm weather.

As Mrs Mason stood by her front window as two o'clock arrived and saw that Emma was wearing a school dress, so she knew the answer to the main question straight away.

Mrs Mason waited for Emma to ring the doorbell before opening it, and, as she stepped back, she moved into full headmistress mode and said in her stern headmistress voice, "Go through, Miss Tomkinson."

Mrs Mason's firm tone told Emma the answer to her question as to whether Mrs Mason would see this through which was that she very much would, and she was dressed and ready for it. So, whilst feeling even more tense at the prospect of being caned for the first time ever she also felt the same excitement she felt when privately and guiltily watching spanking videos on the internet, and fingering herself to tremendous orgasms as she did so. Emma was frightened of what was going to happen but still wanted it to happen and, whilst her clitoris was tingling her bottom was feeling suddenly intensely vulnerable.

Still thinking those thoughts Emma replied, "Yes, Ma'am," and then walked through into the living room, looked around, and saw that the dining area was at the far end and a chair was already turned around into the room, ready for its victim. She caught her breath though when she saw a senior hook-ended cane placed on the dining table. However, she waited in the living room area for further instructions.

As Mrs Mason came into the room, she asked, "Is that your actual school dress, Miss Tomkinson?"

Emma was pleased that Mrs Mason had noticed and replied, "Yes, Ma'am, although I have let it out slightly," she admitted, feeling as though she had to tell the truth about everything.

Mrs Mason then ordered, "Follow me, Miss Tomkinson," as she walked towards the dining area, went to the turned-around chair, and sat down. She pointed to the floor in front of her and ordered, "Stand there, girl."

Emma did still find it strange to be addressed by her surname and the more derogatory, 'girl,' but she knew it was intended to put her in her place as though she was one of the students and a disobedient one at that. She had to admit it worked and she was in the right frame of mind to go through with the punishment, and she was pleased that she had decided to wear her old school dress. Acting as obediently as she expected the students to be, she went and stood on exactly the spot that Mrs Mason had pointed to.

Mrs Mason was now well into headmistress mode and, deciding to push some more buttons, instructed, "Put your hands on your head whilst we discuss your behaviour, girl."

Emma continued to behave obediently and put her hands on her head, as instructed, with her fingers intertwined, and found she still had the feeling of arousal. The action of putting her hands on her head had the effect of causing her dress to ride up so that she was revealing more of her upper thighs than intended. As she stood there in such a naughty girl pose she was getting both excited and deeply scared at the prospect of the caning, which she knew was going to hurt but, for her, it was going to be all about whether that pain intensified her feelings of sexual arousal or whether the pain would drive away such feelings and leave her a sobbing wreck.

Mrs Mason was now sure that Emma was of the mindset to be disciplined, and she knew that her own knickers were getting damp in a way that they never did when dealing with the students. This was very different from everyday school discipline because Emma was an adult playing the role of the schoolgirl and it was more like an office affair than a teacher-student affair which was totally forbidden.

"Now Miss Tomkinson," began Mrs Mason, holding a piece of paper in her hand, "for the protection of both of us I have prepared a letter from you to me which I think it would be a good idea for you to read and sign."

Emma took the proffered letter and read it, with a slightly trembling hand.

'Dear Headmistress,

Private and Confidential

This is to confirm that in connection with developing my position as a trainee teacher at the school, I respectfully request you to give me a punishment caning on my bare bottom as if you were punishing a badly-behaved girl at school so that I can better appreciate how the school's corporal punishment system operates and how the recipients feel and react when punished. I also confirm that if you request I will write a report on my experience for the benefit of other members of the education community. As agreed, I am happy for the punishment to take place at your private residence so as to avoid the embarrassment which may arise if this punishment were to be carried out at school. To ensure maximum benefit from the experience, please cane me severely, using as many strokes as you consider appropriate and ignore any requests from me to stop or use less force.

I understand that for good order you may require my punishment to be witnessed by an appropriate third person of your choosing and that such person may assist me to prepare for and recover from the punishment.

Thank you very much Ma'am for acceding to my request.

Respectfully yours,

Emma Tomkinson'

'W-witnessed by an appropriate third person Ma'am? I thought this was to be in p-private?" stammered Emma, trembling more now.

"It's more appropriate if witnessed Miss Tomkinson, just as all punishments at school need to be witnessed," replied Mrs Mason, "and fortunately my cleaning lady, Beata, is still in the house and says she would be happy to be the witness. You know her of course, as she works at the school too."

Emma's heart sank at this news, to have her naked bottom caned in front of the school's toilet cleaner. How could that be allowed to happen? She saw her every day at school and she would be so humiliated when she saw her next. Beata would be bound to tell the other cleaners too, and they would all know, including that Emma was wearing her old school uniform. She might even tell her daughter who was at the school already.

"Oh, Beata, Headmistress, yes of course I know who she is," replied Emma, "she cleans the toilets and the corridors and so on, and she's got a daughter at the school too."

"Yes, exactly," said Mrs Mason, "and her daughter Elzbieta's a bit of a minx if you ask me. I haven't had to cane her yet, but I am sure I will have to in the future."

"But Ma'am," exclaimed Emma, "do you really think it's appropriate for a school cleaner to witness my punishment? She's a mother at the school as well, so I may find myself teaching her daughter one day ... "

"Don't give it a second thought, Miss Tomkinson," asserted Mrs Mason, "I've explained the circumstances fully to Beata that you have requested this as part of your teacher training experience, and she agreed that it seems strange that teachers can impose punishments on girls when they have no idea how such a punishment feels in real life. She told me that in Poland corporal punishment is imposed at schools much more frequently than in Britain and she says that pupil behaviour there is much better than here. She told me that when she was at school in Poland she used to be caned quite often until she learned to pull her socks up. She said that a caning is not really effective unless the girl finishes up in tears and is truly ashamed and repentant. She even canes her own daughters at home whenever they misbehave."

"Oh gosh," thought Emma to herself. It sounded like the involvement of the school cleaner could only make her punishment more painful and humiliating than it might have been and Mrs Mason's mind was obviously firmly made up. Emma also reflected that it was useful to know that Elzbieta was caned at home by her mum, and would be used to it if she ever had to be caned at school. Mrs Mason too must have picked up on this point.

"Yes, Ma'am, of course. I need to be punished just as you wish," murmured Emma in a soft and obedient voice.

"Well, I am glad that is sorted out," declared Mrs Mason. "Be aware that your caning will be more severe to remind you not to question my judgement."

"Um, yes, Ma'am, I am sorry," responded Emma.

"Oh, you will be Miss Tomkinson, be in no doubt about that," concluded Mrs Mason, as Beata magically appeared in the room, wearing the same light blue cleaning dress and apron that she wore when cleaning at the school, with yellow gloves on and holding a spray bottle of some sort of cleaning fluid.

"H-hello, Beata," blushed Emma.

"Hello, Miss Tomkinson," replied Beata politely. "Oh, you look so young in your school uniform, and it fits you so good."

"Um, I have had to let it out, just a bit," affirmed Emma.

"Well, it looks so nice anyway," continued Beata. You have such a lovely figure, Miss Tomkinson."

Emma blushed again and was wondering what to say when Mrs Mason addressed Beata, "Beata, please would you prepare Miss Tomkinson for her punishment, as we discussed."

"Prepare me?" thought Emma to herself. "What does that involve?" but, before she could think any more events began to move at a faster pace.

"Miss Tomkinson," said Beata, "Please sign the letter to Mrs Mason and then come and stand by this chair."

Emma did as she was bidden and Mrs Mason watched approvingly. Beata then produced some large safety pins from her cleaning dress pocket and told Emma, "I pin up your dress so it does not get in the way Miss, OK?"

"Um, oh yes, of course," whispered Emma, conscious that she was tensing up with nervousness, that her nipples were erect and that her pussy seemed to be on the borderline between numbed with fear and thrillingly excited.

"Your face has just turned completely red, Miss Tomkinson," observed Mrs Mason.

"Yes, Ma'am," said Emma, not knowing what else to say.

"Please put your hands on your head again to make it easier for Beata," requested Mrs Mason.

Emma did so, conscious once more that doing so caused the hem of her dress to rise up to only just below her knickers, perhaps even exposing them.

As Emma stood behind the chair which she knew she would soon be leaning over, Beata expertly pinned up her green school dress to above her waist, not just at her behind either, but all around so that Emma found herself standing, hands on her head, with her white, school-approved cotton knickers fully on display, slightly baggy in schoolgirl style, but still displaying a tell-tale cleft at the front indicative of the now-tingling pussy inside her underwear.

'Oh, it is good that you are wearing school panties too, Miss Tomkinson," exclaimed Beata.

"Yes, very good," agreed Mrs Mason. "Please face me, Miss Tomkinson, and Beata, please remove Miss Tomlinson's knickers and bring them to me."

Emma blushed even more at this new indignity as Beata grasped her knickers with one hand on each side and gently eased them down the trainee teacher's pale thighs. As she did so, Beata noticed that the knickers were distinctly damp on the inside and, as she pulled them down, a distinct strand of wetness stretched out from Emma's pussy lips and eventually was broken apart as the distance became too much for it. Mrs Mason noticed this too. When Emma had lifted her feet to allow for her knickers' complete removal, Beata handed them to Mrs Mason, not bunched up or folded but held wide open so that the headmistress could clearly see just how much wetness Emma had secreted into the cotton gusset. Beata smirked. Mrs Mason held them to her nose and breathed in the deeply powerful aroma of an excited girl.

Mrs Mason looked at Emma, hands still on her head, her green dress fully pinned up around her waist, her pubic bush now fully on show. Emma felt it was humiliating and demeaning to be undressed in this way by one of the school cleaners, but still, she was turned on because she was an adult and there was going to be a schoolgirl punishment at the end of this process. She realised straight away that Beata and Mrs Mason had seen how wet her knickers were and she blushed again a heavy red colour.

"Are you looking forward to your punishment, Miss Tomkinson?" intoned Mrs Mason as she clutched Emma's wet knickers on her cheek and near her nostrils.

"Um, yes, Ma'am, I suppose part of me must be, though I am scared too," responded Emma.

"Well, I know your front part is looking forward to it Miss Tomkinson, but your rear part probably less so," remarked Mrs Mason to the still-blushing Emma.

Mrs Mason was used to controlling naughty schoolgirls, but she had to admit to actually being excited as she anticipated one of her teachers bending over the punishment chair to be in position for punishment. With Emma, it would be different because Mrs Mason had now realised that her own knickers were every bit as damp as Emma's, and she saw this as a good omen prior to a caning for her humble teacher.

Satisfied that Emma would be perfectly obedient, Mrs Mason instructed, "Bend over the chair Tomkinson, with your bottom presented high for me and hold on to the front legs of the chair to keep your balance."

Mrs Mason noticed that Emma's legs were slightly parted, enough to show some of her bits, and enough for Mrs Mason to see that they were glistening with dampness. While Emma waited and Beata watched Emma's bottom, ready for the punishment to begin, Mrs Mason discretely felt her own nipples through her dress and bra and could tell that they were fully erect and sensitive. Mrs Mason giggled to herself realising that her own knickers and pussy lips were as damp as Emma's were. What a match, she thought to herself.

Emma was wondering what the cane might feel like and her mind instantly cleared into sharp focus when she heard the swish of the cane instantaneously followed by a loud thwack and then by intense pain cascading into her buttocks and her brain. This was certainly much more painful than she had ever expected it to be and, thinking about some of the raised welts that she had seen on videos, she knew now that worse would be coming. When the second stroke landed it hurt even more, as did the third stroke, and she realised as the fourth stroke landed that it was the multiplying intensity which made it more painful, more than the fact that the strokes were harder each time.

Mrs Mason felt freer using the cane at home than at school and, as she landed the fifth stroke and watched its red welt develop, she knew that Emma would be struggling, and even more so when she landed the sixth stroke. She noted that Beata was watching intently and approvingly as Emma tried to keep herself under control.

Emma was struggling more than she had ever expected to, even with the experience of watching those videos and, as the seventh stroke landed she yelped loudly and couldn't stop herself from standing up and rubbing her bottom, moaning with the pain as she did.

Mrs Mason was used to the girls standing up when told to stay bent over and gave the same response to Emma that she always did to the school girls, which was, "You do not do that, girl. That stroke doesn't count."

Emma gasped and with a first sob of shame realised that she had no say at all in the punishment, everything was outside her control, and she was powerless. Of course, at the same time, she loved that fact and fully accepted that Mrs Mason was the one in charge and had every say and made every decision and could not be questioned.

Mrs Mason allowed the comment to sink in and then said in the same stern tone, "So, girl, you still have a number of strokes to go. Bend over and show me your bottom."

Emma loved the way she was being dealt with so strictly. She knew that was exactly what discipline was supposed to do, and even in the middle of all this, she was hoping there would be a next time.

Mrs Mason was happy that Emma was remaining submissive as she pulled her arm back and brought the cane down for what was the repeated seventh stroke, and watched Emma's bottom cheeks surrender to the cane, heard her yelp, but smiled as she saw that she was keeping a tight hold of the seat of the chair to make sure that she didn't get up again. That was good, she told herself, and exactly the reaction she wanted from any of the girls she caned.

Emma kept a firm hold of the seat of the chair as the eighth stroke landed even though it sent the pain once again cascading around her bottom and deep into her psyche. The ninth stroke did the same, with, once again, the intensity increasing because each stroke was landing before she had recovered from the previous stroke.

The tenth stroke continued with the same pattern of intense pain and the inability to stop herself from letting out a loud gasp as she did again with the eleventh stroke, although she made sure she held on to the chair and didn't get up again.

Mrs Mason paused. Emma was relieved but wondering why she was getting a break, when she heard the headmistress ask, "Beata, would you like to give Miss Tomkinson the final ten strokes?" to which Beata smilingly replied, "Oh yes, Ma'am, I would very much like to cane this naughty teacher's bottom."

"Oh no, further humiliation." Thought a distressed Emma. How was she going to deal with seeing Beata at school every day and what about her daughter, who would be bound to know, and who would she tell? She had come to be caned by her headmistress, not by a lowly cleaner. How could she live with this shame and embarrassment?

Mrs Mason pulled up a chair and sat herself down in front of Emma who hesitantly raised her head to see what she was doing. Emma first saw Mrs Mason's knees together beneath her above-knee skirt and noticed that she could see her headmistress's lacy knickers making a triangle between her thighs, and thought to herself how inappropriate to see such a thing as a headmistress's knickers. She looked up further to see Mrs Mason looking back at her with a mixture of pleasure and concern.

"I want you to look up at me while Beata whips your behind Emma so that I can see how much pain shows in your face," explained Mrs Mason.

"Yes Ma'am," responded Emma.

A moment later Emma's head jerked up and her face contorted with sudden pain as Beata's first stroke cut deep into the trainee teacher's bottom. "Ahhhh," she screeched, realising that Beata was going to hurt her more than Mrs Mason had. She caught the headmistress's eyes, looking through into her soul, and then again Beata's cane rocked her out of her eye contact and she screamed from the agony of it. The cleaning lady's strokes were cutting across existing welts on Emma's bottom and hurting double as a result.

"Only eight strokes to go, Emma," announced Mrs Mason.

Emma noticed that the headmistress was using her first name again, and began to weep copiously at this moment of apparent kindness in the middle of her ordeal. Another stroke ripped into Emma's consciousness and she could imagine Beata smiling with satisfaction at being able to thrash one of her superiors, a real, living, crying, trainee teacher. Also, one of those women who looked down on her as she scrubbed their toilet floor on school days.

Beata thought to herself, 'Miss Tomkinson would be respecting her more from now on,' as she cracked the next stroke into Emma's ridged and colourful behind.

Tears were rolling down Emma's cheeks as she tried to look up at her lovely headmistress between the agonies being inflicted on her bottom by Beata's muscular arm, but she only saw a blur and had the utmost feeling of humiliation.

Hours later, it seemed, although it was only a minute or two, in reality, the caning ceased, after twenty-one strokes in total. Mrs Mason and Beata let Emma stay in position, exactly where she was. Emma's bottom looked shredded.

Emma wondered what was happening as the room fell silent and her sobs receded. Then, to her surprise, Emma felt wave after wave of chemicals flushing through her body one by one, like surf on a beach crashing down and then bubbling up in pools of deep foam. Her whole self was suddenly warm and it felt like she was being carried out to sea as the waves resolved themselves and drew back down the slope of the beach, gently but with an irresistible pull. 'What was this magic?' thought Emma to herself as she experienced the surges of power and pleasure which followed upon her pain and torture.

Mrs Mason watched as Emma took time to recover and as the lines across her sensual bottom deepened in colour and formed visible ridges.

Emma in her bent-over position, striped buttocks on full show, heard the headmistress saying goodbye to Beata and thanking her for her "Good work," and even saying, "I will make sure that Miss Tomkinson gives you a good tip on Monday to thank you for taking such care with her punishment."

"Thank you very much, Ma'am," Beata replied, "I am happy any time to help you with this important work."

Emma did not see this in detail from her punishment position, but coming back into the room after seeing Beata out, Mrs Mason bent forward to examine Emma's caned bottom more closely and, putting her elegant nose right close to Emma's exposed pussy and bottom hole inhaled Emma's mixture of musk and arousal deeply into her nose, and as she was aware of her headmistress's body reacting erotically and instantly to her natural scents.

Emma, recovering, thought back to how she liked to make herself come when watching caning videos and noticed that the pain from the caning, although intense, was receding and being replaced, gradually, by this new, pleasurable warmth. She wondered whether she might be able to slip away soon to Mrs Mason's bathroom and pleasure herself there ...

Mrs Mason looked down at Emma's bottom and wondered whether she thought the reality was as good as the fantasies that she clearly had. She wouldn't be surprised if that was the case because she was aware of at least two of the schoolgirls who would go to the toilets straight after being caned and hide away in a cubicle for a while, sitting on the toilet seat no doubt with their knickers down and their legs wide apart, and fingering themselves to sometimes quite noisy orgasms. She didn't actually mind that happening, because her job was to punish the girls, in the time-given way, and if the girl enjoyed it so much that she would come back for another caning and another, then so be it. In fact, Mrs Mason was recalling the two girls who did this most often, and they were actually now amongst the most hard-working of the girls and produced the best results, which seemed at first to Mrs Mason to be a bit of a mystery, but then she just told herself that if the system worked, then it worked. If a punishment brought pleasure as well as pain, well it was still a punishment.

When Mrs Mason became aware that Emma was visibly starting to recover and move her limbs, she ordered, "Okay, Emma, you can get up. Your punishment is complete."

As Emma stood up and turned to face Mrs Mason, pubic bush on display again, she couldn't stop her hands from rushing to her bottom and rubbing her warm and welted bottom cheeks, nor could she stop herself stepping from foot to foot. Her vision was still blurred from her tears, but she was pretty sure that she saw the outline of a smile on Mrs Mason's face which further relaxed her.

Mrs Mason enjoyed watching the girls instinctively rub their bottoms after being caned, which always seemed to take precedence over pulling their knickers back up. Of course, Emma didn't have her knickers on and that prompted the headmistress to ask the question, "Emma, when you handed me your knickers, they were all damp. Would they get even damper if you put them back on now?"

Emma's embarrassment was clear, but even as she continued to clutch her bottom cheeks, she replied, "Yes, Ma'am, in fact, they would become wetter than they have ever been."

Mrs Mason replied, "Well, I'm pleased you said that because I think supplementing your staff review in this way is going to teach you much more than just our usual discussion. I know you want to learn quickly, so what I will do is set you some targets. They will stretch you a bit, but I rather suspect that after a few visits back here to my house you will be doing better than trainee teachers would normally be doing."

It hadn't occurred to Emma that this really could be part of her training, but if being caned was the incentive that it now seemed to be, then so long as the targets were set at a level that she couldn't easily achieve, she would gain from such a system, and in more than one way.

Emma was just thinking about whether she might ask to go to Mrs Mason's toilet, for some 'private time', but Mrs Mason put her hand on her arm and rubbed it gently up and down, and after a few rubs when she realised that Emma wasn't going to object, she daringly placed her fingers down below, between Emma's intimate lips, felt the wetness there and asked, "So do you want to do yourself, or, as I am feeling pretty wet myself, we could help each other out."

Emma hadn't even thought of such a possibility because Mrs Mason was her boss and a headmistress. She blushed again, beautifully, and replied, "I would just love to, Ma'am, but what about when we are working together at the school?"

Mrs Mason replied, "What we do at my home stays at my home, if you are up for that?"

Emma immediately replied, "Oh gosh, that works for me as well, thank you, Ma'am."

With that, Mrs Mason held out her hand which Emma happily took and they walked together out into the hallway, up the carpeted staircase and into Mrs Mason's bedroom. Only a few moments later, on Mrs Mason's double bed, Emma found herself eagerly reaching up Mrs Mason's skirt and easing down her pretty underwear while Mrs Mason had pulled off Emma's dress rendering her naked and was now reaching behind her back inside her top to undo her bra.

Both ladies knew they were going to be on that bed for a while