by Rick Marlowe
Having pulled her raincoat close around herself while approaching the imposing house up the front walk from her car, once she reached the stoop, Skye paused to remove it, fold it carefully, and tuck it under one arm before ringing the door bell. She then awaited a response, standing there in pigtails, white blouse, knee socks, and a red plaid skirt that barely reached mid-thigh.
A distant voice from inside called out, "Come on in, it's unlocked."
Skye pushed open the heavy wooden door, stepping into a large foyer. A magnificent staircase arose from the slate floor, turning twice around a brass chandelier before reaching the second floor. At the far end of the foyer, a figure stood silhouetted in a doorway.
"Mr. Harper?" she inquired.
"That would be me. Hurry up, girl. I don't have all evening." He gestured for her to follow him into a room off the foyer. "Your envelope is there on the table," he said matter-of-factly as he entered what proved to be a walnut-paneled library. "Close the door."
Skye quickly checked the contents of the envelope, which she stuffed into her purse, before following his instruction and pulling the door shut.
As she trailed this Mr. Harper into the room, she sized him up - a bit over six foot, muscular, perhaps forty years old, clearly used to being in charge, and rather handsome. No, make that exceedingly handsome, with dark hair, clear blue eyes, and a strong chin.
"You'll learn to follow my commands more promptly, Miss Jones. And, you were late."
"The directions were rather confusing, I got lost."
"The correct response, young lady, would be 'I'm sorry, Sir.' You get confused easily, do you?"
"No, sir, not usually. And I am sorry."
"I don't like waiting. We'll be getting started momentarily, but first, let's have a look at you."
He took her coat and purse, which he set on the table, before circling her slowly. "Um-hm. Rather sloppy, I must say - pigtails uneven, socks uneven, shirt unpressed, tie askew. I hope you don't attend school dressed this way."
"I'm sorry, sir - I was running late."
"A re-occurring theme, it would appear. Don't worry - that's something I will deal with shortly, as well as your appearance."
Skye had been through many such scenes, but for some reason, his remarks sent a chill up her spine.
"Did you finish the assignment I gave you?"
"Er, no sir." This had seemed like an obvious way to start things off. Now, though, she wished she had brought along at least something to give him.
"It seems, Miss Jones," he began, "that I will need to show you just how serious I am about all this." He pulled a straight-back chair from along the wall into the center of the room. "You may 'assume the position' over this chair... unless, of course, you find that too confusing."
"No, sir. I can manage."
"Good. I'm glad."
As Skye bent forward over the back of the chair, standing on tip-toes to grasp hold of either side of the seat, Mr. Harper opened a cabinet to inspect an array of canes, straps and paddles within. Selecting a medium-weight cane, he whipped it through the air several times. Skye had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach - why had she agreed to as many as twelve? 'Six of the best' she had received on many occasions - but twelve? - and apparently as just a starter for the evening. Already she knew that these wouldn't be wimpy blows, more for form than substance, as with many canings she'd been given. But perhaps it would be only six, or even fewer; twelve was just the upper limit - right?
Coming up behind her, Mr. Harper raised the back hem of her skirt, which he safety-pinned to the back of her blouse. "Non-regulation underwear," he observed matter-of-factly, before looping fingers into the waistband of her skimpy bikini briefs to pull them down to her knees. As Mr. Harper stood off to one side, Skye could feel the cane tapping on her up-turned bottom. She gripped the chair more tightly.
The cane drew back and sliced through the air, landing with a sharp cr-rack! Skye suppressed a yelp. Again the cane tapped her bottom, measuring, as the intense sting from the first swipe coursed through her body. Then the cane cracked again. She winced, rising higher on her toes, though still managing to keep silent. At the third blow, however, she emitted a slight squeal.
"Those first three, Miss Jones, are the consequence of your being late. Now we'll move on to your uniform violations."
Skye gritted her teeth. She had never before broken down and cried - at least not for real - and didn't intend to lose control today, either.
The next cane-stroke fairly surprised her, landing across her upper thighs rather than her derriere, causing a quite audible yelp. Numbers five and six also found her thighs - much more sensitive than her bottom - eliciting whimpers as she writhed in place.
"You really have lovely skin, Miss Jones," he remarked admiringly. "The perfect canvas for my artwork." When she merely grunted an acknowledgement, his hand slapped down twice - hard - once on each cheek. "A 'thank you, sir' would be appropriate." Landing on her new welts, the smacks were more than a little painful.
"Thank you, sir," she replied with clenched jaw.
"That's better. Don't worry, you'll learn. Now, let's move on to your missed assignment. That, young lady, is something I find entirely unacceptable. Six strokes - a bit harder."
Six more? And harder? The previous six had already been as severe as any she had ever felt. Yes, skipping that assignment altogether had not been a good choice. She steeled herself for the inevitable.
The remaining six strokes came one by one, with a long enough gap in between every pair to allow the pain of each to be experienced fully, yet still giving enough time to anticipate the next. As the young woman's feet danced in place on tippy-toes, her panties dropped from her knees, coming to rest around one ankle. By the end, Skye was fighting - unsuccessfully - to hold back her tears. Had there been even one more, she was sure she would have been begging him to stop.
Mr. Harper examined his handiwork, running a finger along several of the welts. "I do believe I have made my point, Miss Jones, have I not?"
"Y-yes, sir," Skye replied between whimpers, still bent over the back of the chair.
"All right then, into the corner with you. I'm going to give you some time to think about this little lesson, with your naughty bare bottom on display." He helped her to her feet, then shooed her into the far corner of the room with a sharp slap to her striped rump. "Hands on your head, and no rubbing!"
Through her pain, Skye could hear him shuffling around, and then a door opening and closing, but then... silence.
Intense punishment sessions always affected her the same way. She longed to rub... and touch... down there. But she mustn't. He had said not to. Her hands did come down from the top of her head, though, caressing her ample bosom - first outside of, and then up underneath her shirt. Wearing no bra, she had easy access to her nipples. She loved the way they felt, these boobs of hers. When people had the nerve to ask if they were really her own, she would laugh and say, "Of course they're mine; I paid good money for them!" She more or less had to, she reasoned, to balance off the buttocks that protruded out the back, buttocks that had never needed any enhancement.
She needed a different sort of balancing right now - excited, erect nipples to distract her from her smarting backside. Expertly, her hands went to work. She was so into the zone that she never heard the library door open. She did, however, hear it slam shut. When she did, she jumped.
"Miss Jones - I thought I told you to keep your hands on your head. Unless I'm mistaken, those are not your head."
Quickly Skye yanked her hands out of her shirt to place them back where she had been instructed.
Mr. Harper must have crossed the room in total silence, because the next thing she knew he was whispering into her ear, "Besides, that is my job." He placed his hands on either hip, before slowly sliding then up her sides, under her shirt, and around to her breasts. He pressed tight against her from behind as he fondled her 'ladies,' teasing the already-hardened nipples with his fingers. He gave each one a hard pinch. She moaned.
"You like that, don't you, Miss Jones?"
"Mmmmm," she purred in assent.
He leaned in to give one ear a hard nip with his teeth. His thighs rubbed against her chastened rear. She suppressed a giggle, yet still smiled.
He drew his left hand free of her shirt, then entwined those fingers into her hair, in order to use this grip to yank her head backwards.
"You like it too much, you naughty girl. And that, Miss Jones, is the next thing I will deal with."
Pulling her by the hair, Mr. Harper led her over to a leather-upholstered sofa, where he upended her roughly over one padded arm. She caught a glimpse of a Lexan paddle - black, a foot-and-a-half long, two rows of holes in the blade - leaning against the sofa back, before Mr. Harper snatched it away. Coming as it was on top of the welts from the cane, this paddling was going to hurt... a lot. The woman gave token resistance as he held her in place with a hand in the small of her back.
"And now, Miss Jones, you will learn how girls who don't follow instructions, and then play with their titties, get punished."
"No, Mr. Harper, please, I'll be good. I promise."
"You'll be good all right - I'm going to make sure of it."
"Pleeeeese! Nooo!"
Her pleading, however, had no effect. He swung the paddle in a big arc, connecting with a loud whack. She shrieked. Again he swung... and again... and again... and again... maybe a dozen times in all before he paused.
"How about we check things out?" he asked to no-one in particular - Skye was too busy crying to listen. "Nice color." He pressed a hand against her buttocks. "Good heat." One hand slipped between her legs. "Very moist." Skye moaned as he fingered her down there. Then she felt him slip something inside her, something hard and round-ish. "All right - let's finish up here so that we can move on."
Before she could figure out exactly what the 'something' was, the paddle landed again on her tush - once, twice, several times more. He seemed to be aiming for first this spot, then that, until her whole backside was a pair of throbbing mounds, as her screams filled the library.
"OK, young lady, let's get you up." Taking hold of her hair once more, he urged her to her feet. "Now, you naughty girl, I have a present for you. Something special."
Not letting go of her hair, he led her around to the front of the couch, where he sat down, legs apart, before forcing her to kneel between them on the floor. He pointed to his crotch.
"Unzip."
Her eyes locked onto his for several seconds. Then slowly, her hand reached for his zipper. It wasn't easy to pull him free, because he was quite hard... and huge.
"Lick it."
Dutifully she leaned forward, tongue extended, to lick first one side of the shaft, then the other, and especially the sensitive underside and tip.
"Good girl. When you're ready, you may suck."
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