by Frank Martinet
The new girl was just darling. My jaw almost fell open when I saw her and I had to pretend I was yawning. But I couldn't take my eyes off her. She had dark hair and the cutest face, a bit round, with big brown eyes and a sexy mouth. She had a shy, demure attitude, and she wasn't tall but slightly stocky, with heavy legs and a sturdy build. She wasn't fat at all, just solid. Her breasts were a touch large for her body and no doubt contributed to her older appearance.
But it was her bum that intrigued me the most. I'll admit right up front that I'm a butt man and this was a pair for the ages! The cheeks were full and solid, with an extremely round, jutting appearance. They were a strong healthy pair, just begging for my special attention, and I knew I wouldn't be able to resist their charms for long. Poor Amelia was going to suffer for the gift of that wonderful bottom!
The moment the final bell rang the room went silent as my gaze traveled over the girls. They knew the rules: once class began it was my domain and any rule infraction would be dealt with harshly.
"Class, we have a new student with us today. I'd like everyone to welcome Amelia Brookings. Amelia, why don't you stand and introduce yourself."
I made her face the room for this pointless exercise but this was just an excuse for me to admire her from behind, of course. I loved the way the shelf of her butt held up the back of her skirt and I could hardly wait to lift the scrap of cloth and see what charms were hidden underneath.
She was nervous at having to speak and embarrassed at being singled out and my heart quivered with delight as I saw her biting her lower lip and those expressive eyes darting around the room. She was a precious one, an untapped flower. I couldn't wait to have her. Though I knew I should prolong my delight and take my time with her, I also knew that I have never been a patient man and I would not take my time. The moment I saw the faintest opportunity I would pounce.
"Uh, my name is Amelia. I'm originally from Cardiff, but my father travels a good deal. He's a business consultant and has international clients all over the world. My mom died shortly after I was born, so it's just me and him. I used to travel with him and study independently, but now that I'm eighteen, he thinks I need to prepare more for college, so he enrolled me here."
She turned her head and looked at me over one slim shoulder and my breath stopped. Oh, for a camera hidden in the frames of my glasses! It was a gorgeous pose, her eyes wide and nervous, her profile beautiful with her cute button nose and richly curved lips. Her mouth was slightly ajar and I wanted to kiss her.
Instead, I decided on the next best thing: humiliation.
I reached for a cane. I keep a number of them in my classroom as just the sight is enough to instill respect and order. This one was on my desk. It was very thin and a bit warped with age, but it was your classic crook-handled brown cane, and there was no question of its purpose. As I whipped it through the air the class as a whole gave a tiny shudder and seemed to shrink from me. Amelia gaped at me, terrified. It sent my heart thumping with pleasure.
"Amelia, are you a well-disciplined girl?"
She gulped and nodded, her lower lip trembling.
"You are familiar, I take it, with the implements of discipline, then. Such as this one."
The cane hissed through the air and took the blood from her face as it whizzed by. I arched my eyebrows, patiently waiting for a response. Receiving none, I tapped a desk in the front row and growled, "You know what this is?"
"Uh, yes sir. It's a cane, sir."
"Good. What is it for?"
Amelia swallowed hard. This was very difficult for her, I could tell, and that just made it all the better for me. "It's... it's for punishment, sir."
"How is it used?"
Now her face reddened deeply and she suddenly looked much too young for that grown-up body. "Uh, I... uh, you... you strike it. Across... a girl's... seat." She was blushing furiously and I could hardly contain my delight.
"Across the buttocks, you mean?"
She nodded, but didn't speak.
"So, this is an instrument of punishment. It is used to strike a blow across a naughty girl's backside. Would this be over her skirt?"
Now Amelia bit her lip in earnest. Though standing, she was squirming as though held, and she looked around the room desperately but saw only awed and fascinated faces and not an inkling of help or encouragement. She faltered, stammering, "I... I don't know, sir. I... I've never had the cane."
"Never had the cane!" There were a few titters at this, but nothing obvious. "Perhaps we should fix that right now."
Amelia shook her head violently and her voice screeched in protest. "Oh no, sir! I haven't done anything!"
"What does that matter? A girl's got to experience the cane sometime. Why not get it over with now, the first day? Why prolong the inevitable?"
She stared at me like I was crackers, which was probably a fair assessment. I did not care.
"Just a few strokes," I said. I held out the cane to show her its smooth, lithe shape, dangerously thin and whippy.
She shuddered, closing her eyes. Then she opened them and stared right at me. "You're joking."
I laughed. "Class, am I joking?"
There were murmurs of disagreement and shakes of the head and Amelia trembled. In a small voice she said, "I don't want the cane!"
"Of course you don't. Who would? It's bloody awful, isn't it? Hurts like the devil. But wait - you wouldn't know since you haven't had the cane before!"
She backed away from me, shaking her head, her hands traveling behind to protect her vulnerable bottom. She held the chubs tightly as though they might escape. She looked so deliciously frightened I wanted to lick her up.
I made a great show of sighing and putting down the cane. "Perhaps the rod is too severe for your first day. I could use the ruler, instead." I picked it up, eighteen inches of solid maple, and patted it against my palm.
"Please!" she babbled. "I don't want to be spanked at all! I haven't done anything!"
"I seriously doubt that. It's next to impossible for a girl your age to not deserve a spanking for something. Surely you've committed some fault today?"
"No, nothing!"
I had her now, and my grin took over my face. "If you are lying, I shall spank you soundly."
"I'm not, I swear!"
"Not one tiny thing wrong? You haven't broken a single school rule?"
"No, nothing!"
I pounced. "Ha! You are a liar! I can see from here that your uniform violates three school rules, and I suspect if I examine your bookbag I shall find more violations."
Amelia paled, shaking her head. "But... I..."
"Now you shall be spanked for uniform violations as well as lying to me about your behavior!"
"No!" She backed up another step and bumped into the wall and stopped, cornered. She stared at me, at the silent class, and then back at me. "Please! It's my first day. Surely my uniform doesn't have to be perfect on the first day! Have mercy, please."
Someone snickered and Amelia realized she was whining and she sobered a bit, standing straighter and trying to look less frightened, which just made her look all the more adorable in her abject failure toward that goal. Her bravado defiance reminded me of a clay statue - I half-expected her to crumble to pieces any second.
I put down the ruler. I did this intentionally and deliberately, just so I could see the hope fill Amelia's pretty face. She still didn't trust me, I could see. Her eyes were alert and frantic, darting every which way, desperate for any sign that would tell her what was going on.
I carefully opened the bottom drawer of my desk and removed a large leather slipper. It was well-worn from use and more than one girl in the class cringed in fear. It was supposed to be a mild punishment, but I had an evil knack for getting the most out of an implement and my girls knew it.
"Since it's your first day, I shall only spank you with my slipper." My voice dripped sarcasm as I heavily exaggerated words like 'only' and 'slipper'. Amelia was trying desperately not to cry, her eyes brimming with tears. "Front and center, over my desk!"
This last was barked out as a command, not a suggestion, and so stern was my voice that Amelia obeyed me instantly without even thinking about it. She moved forward to the desk and leaned against it and then stopped, looking at me with horror over her shoulder as I approached her from behind. She gulped and glanced toward the door, but seemed unable to run away.
"Forward, girl! Grab the other side!" I pushed her in the back and she bent, reaching out to grasp the other end of the desk with her hands and hold herself still. The action seemed to both help steady her and terrify her, for now her bottom was utterly at my mercy.
I patted the outstretched rump with the slipper and said sternly, "If you let go of the desk and stand up, even for one second, I shall use the cane."
"Oh please!"
"Do you understand?"
"Sir, I haven't done-"
"DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"
Amelia began to weep, tears trickling down her round cheeks. She nodded furiously, unable to speak. I tapped her bottom warningly and she gasped out, "Yessir!"
"What will happen if you let go of the desk and get out of position?"
The girl sobbed. "You... you'll cane me!"
"That is correct. Now, are you ready to take your slippering?"
"No!"
"No? You'd rather have the cane, then?"
"NO!"
"Which is it? The slipper or the cane?"
What a choice! Her head slumped forward in despair. In a tiny voice she said, "Slipper."
"What was that?"
"The slipper, sir!"
"Good." I stared at her for a full minute without speaking, the entire class looking at the backside that was pointing at them. Even through the pleated skirt the twin rounds were visible, the jutting shapes distorting the cloth. I could hardly wait to expose that butt but I forced myself a few more seconds of patience. Every extra second meant Amelia was in a more frazzled state and would magnify the minor punishment to come.
Satisfied, I grasped her skirt by the hem and lifted it up and onto her back. Amelia gave a strange squeal of alarm, but fortunately for her, she did not let go of the desk. Her panties were white and simply cut, but extremely tight and sheer across the fullness of her buttocks. She was well-covered - it was not a thong - but the garment left little to the imagination. She might as well have been naked. Every curve was defined, even the deep crevice between the cheeks, the taut cloth clinging to her flesh as though it were wet. I felt myself rise to the occasion and I gripped the slipper with even sterner dedication.
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