Back To School

It felt a bit strange walking into a school after all these years - and I was only going to deliver a parcel from our company! It was strange - all those feelings of teachers telling you what to do, the smell of school desks - all the memories came sweeping back. I was in my thirties, and here I was feeling more and more like a nine year old - a particularly timid nine year old - as I walked into the front entrance of the school. I was even expecting to see Mrs Turner, our former and forbidding head-teacher who, I think, relished the fact she could still spank pupils and shrivel them with words and even a look, although times had long moved on from those days. Even the noise of children playing, leaving school now in the late afternoon, took me back to those days when I was just a very average pupil quietly trying to survive early school days.

"Ah, Mr Barnes, Mrs Evans is expecting you - please take a seat and she will see you in a minute". The rather starchy voice of the school secretary appeared out of the glass window into the office, and an arm pointed at two wooden chairs. Evans - I noticed that name on the notice board as I came in - head teacher? I wasn't quite sure why the head teacher wanted to see me but I sat on one of the chairs to which I had been pointed.

After about ten minutes the school secretary came out of her office and ordered curtly "Follow me". I followed as she led along a corridor of the formal old-fashioned school, her shoes echoing as she clipped along, until she came to a large forbidding door. She knocked, opened the door and pointed me in, then disappeared.

"Sit down, Mr Barnes" - I glanced at the head teacher. She was perhaps 50, slim, formally dressed in white blouse and navy skirt, with shoulder length formal black hair. If she smiled she could look nice, perhaps, but it felt like smiling was very alien to her. She wasn't quite as forbidding, but she could have been the daughter of Mrs Turner, my former head-teacher, at least in her stiff and forbidding demeanour.

I sat on a chair on the opposite the desk behind which Mrs Evans sat now feeling every bit the very naughty schoolboy dragged before the head-teacher for some terrible misdemeanour like lining up crookedly, or talking in assembly.

Mrs Evans launched right in. "Thankyou for coming Mr Barnes: I have some important things to say to you which you will not like." She spoke very stiffly, almost bullyingly. I was feeling very confused and intimidated - I was only delivering three books! However, when these events are as formal as this I had long ago learnt it was worth having a recording of what may happen, so turned on the small but powerful Dictaphone I carried in my pocket.

"Mr Barnes, you are a disgrace. I am appalled by the way you have brought up your family and the attitudes you have given them. I am horrified by the way you treat your wife. I have called you here to warn you that we are very close to turning to the social services because of what you have done." I was stunned - I had no idea what this out-pouring was about, what I was being told off about.

Mrs Evans continued. It was a long lecture explaining the awful thing each of my three children had done in school, the way they treated teachers, the catalogue of every wrong-doing a child under eleven can do, and a few that an over eleven can do. She continued with a long list of the evil things my wife Sophie had accused me of, as well as several other parents in the school. I was dumbstruck - I didn't have any children, although if I did have any I hoped they would be infinitely better than the ones just described to me, and my wife wasn't called Sophie! The lecture ended up with a recap of my weaknesses, and some of the changes I should make to my attitude. And the changes demanded were radical! The speech had easily lasted twenty minutes.

At last Mrs Evans had finished. "Well, Mr Barnes, what do you have to say for yourself?" This took a bit thinking through so we sat for a long period in quiet as I collected my thoughts. In the end I decided to take the simple approach. "Mrs Evans. I don't have any children."

"What do you mean, you don't have any children? There are those three monsters you dump on us every day……" I held up my hand to stop her.

"Mrs Evans I do not have any children. I have come here to simply deliver these books from our company."

It was clear Mrs Evans was confused so I continued. "Have you got the right Mr Barnes - I'm Bill Barnes."

Suddenly the penny had dropped - there were two Mr Barnes - she wanted Darren Barnes……. "Then what are you doing here? You should have said something earlier. You will never mention this conversation again." Mrs Evans had again adopted her over-bearing tone, then pointed to the door. Her attitude had suddenly rattled me - she could have apologised, she could have been polite about it, she could have asked nicely for me to say nothing. But this over-bearing tone was not on.

After a few moments I had collected my thoughts. "Mrs Evans, I was only doing my job. I was brought here. I was regaled by your diatribe. And in the end you cannot apologise properly. I don't think that is acceptable."

"Nonsense, man." Her voice had now turned patronising, and perhaps more offensive for it. "Just run along and we will speak no more about it."

I wasn't to be moved. "Mrs Evans," I spoke in measured tones. "Sadly for you I have just recorded what has happened - I find it is a useful precaution at times like this." I showed her the mini tape-recorder. I continued "I think you will find that you have broken many parts of your code of practice. You did not check out whether I was the right person. You gave me a huge amount of confidential information. You have said things to me which were both offensive and slanderous. And now you cannot even apologise. If you had apologised I would simply have walked out. However, I think you will find there is more than enough material for instant dismissal, and certainly for your name to be spread all over the local papers, if not the national papers. It doesn't look good for you, does it?" In the space of a minute Mrs Evans had changed, crumpled from a domineering overpowering woman, into a person almost quivering with fear, her face ashen white with the horror of what had happened.

She just managed to gasp out a couple of words: "Please no…………". She suddenly looked very vulnerable in that moment, and I knew something deep had happened somewhere within her. I continued rather more gently.

"Mrs Evans. You remind me of Mrs Turner who was my head-teacher. She terrified me. She also punished us all freely and liberally and regularly. It is still something that is etched on my mind. You make me want to strike back. So I have an idea. I will walk out of this office. I will walk about a bit and return in ten minutes. You then have a choice. You can let me go to the authorities with this tape and all that entails. Or you can have a cane on the table ready for me and receive all I received from Mrs turner. The choice is yours."

With that I stood up, went outside and walked up and down the corridor a couple of times, before returning to the office door, knocking then walking inside. Mrs Evans was still sat behind the table, but on the table was a thin cane - It was a good guess that she might have one stashed somewhere. By now the bluster had gone out of her, she was tapping nervously on the desk, her eyes looking down into her lap.

I spoke much more gently to her. "This is a good choice. What's your first name, Mrs Evans?" She was called Joan.

"Okay Joan" I spoke gently to her. "I received 8 from Mrs turner in my school career, so that is how many you are going to get. And Mrs Turner used to drop our trouser and pants for a caning."

I paused as the implications of what I just said suddenly dawned and she gasped "No!"

However she did as I told her "Stand up, go around the end of the desk and bend over. Hold onto the sides and do not let go or try to move away".

I was amazed when she did - she stood up, bent over the desk, and I was suddenly aware of the nice shape of her ass. I took the sides of her skirt and lifted it above her waist, tucking it into the waist-band. Her legs were pleasantly slim, her ass as attractive as I thought it might be.

I pulled her white panties to her knees and left them there, revealing the ass with all its fullness, revealing a glimpse of pussy and pubic hair between her legs. She stood with her feet perhaps fifteen inches apart.

I spoke to her again: "Are you ready for this?"

She nodded. She may be under my control, but she was a determined lady.

I stepped back, picked up the cane and swung hard at her ass, bringing a muffled scream from her lips, a bright red mark appearing immediately across her ass. She squirmed, fighting the pain, but not standing up.

As she squirmed I swung the cane again, making a line parallel to and lower than the first. Again the muffled scream, and more squirming. I waited and let her fight the pain that would be throbbing through her ass.

Crack, crack - the third and the fourth I followed with quickly, parallel and either side of the first two. Again she screamed and squirmed against the pain. Watching her ass squirming and squeezing was incredibly erotic and had me stiff in my trousers.

I swung the cane again, this time much lower across the back of her thighs - clearly it hurt as she screamed out, and rapidly repeated it again just an inch higher. Again I waited as she fought the pain, watching the erotic sight of this head teacher squirming on the desk.

The last two I swung quickly, each one landing on the path I'd made with my first two. The pain on pain was clearly excruciating as she screamed out wriggling to fight the pain that had engulfed her ass.

After three or four minutes I asked her to stand up. She did, standing straight up by the desk. It was then I noticed something strange - her nipples were standing very hard - I could even see them through her bra and blouse. I asked her "Why are your nipples stiff?"

She didn't answer but went bright red and looked coyly down again. I guessed - I pushed her forwards over the desk again, put my fingers between he legs and felt the moisture on her pussy. The minx!

I told her to bend over the desk again, quickly undid my trousers and removed them and my pants. Then I stepped behind her, put the tip of my by now stiff cock to the lips of her pussy and pushed. She was moist - my cock slid fully in her, and I was even aware that she was pushing back onto my cock, wanting to receive it.

I rested inside her for a few moments, then slowly began to slide my cock in and out of her - it was clear she was moving in rhythm with my thrusts, and after a couple of minutes began moaning with pleasure. I sped up my thrusting and felt her body responding to mine, sliding up and down my cock, until we both reached the point and screamed out in orgasm, as her body shook and writhed in pleasure, as I filled her with my seed. I felt the muscles of her pussy rippling milking my cock dry of cum.

At last we both stopped and I slid out of her. I stood her up, although with the caning and the orgasm she was pretty wobbly. I helped her pull her panties up, I let her skirt drop down as normal. We hugged for several moments, Mrs Evans saying over and over - "That was fantastic." In the end I said I must go - which I had to.

"Please will you come and do that again for me", Joan Evans asked quietly and hopefully.

"Okay - but you must also help yourself - be fun, like people….you are a wonderful person." I spoke, dropped the cassette from the recorder on her desk then quickly left.

As I reached the foyer the school secretary - now smiling and no-where near as formidable as she was before - waved me over.

"You did a good job there" she said.

I was puzzled. "A good job?"

"Yes," she said. "Let me tell you something. Joan Evans was a wonderful person until three years ago. Then Keith her husband died and she changed - changed into that monster you met earlier. She was awful with teachers, pupils and parents. We despaired of her - and something had to be done - we had to find a way of getting her back her life as well as ours. Then I ended chatting to a woman called Judy. Your wife I believe. Do you think it was just a co-incidence that she had an appointment with Mr Barnes just when you turned up? We had to do a lot of planning……….."

"You mean I was set up?"

"Well," she smiled. "Just a little. We knew how you would react. And it was better than we could have believed."

Things were going wrong…. "What do you mean, how do you know?"

"Oh, quite simple. We had the intercom switched on. I heard everything here in the office." My face fell. "And of course, the staff in the staff room heard it all - they'd got together especially to listen……………….."

It was now my turn to be speechless. "How many………?"

"Oh, I don't know", smiled the secretary. "I reckon about thirty people heard everything that happened. But I tell you this - we are eternally grateful - I think now we have got the old Mrs Evans back - and that's all she needed and all we wanted………"