Alice Ch. 01

"I see. How many times?"

"I don't know, sir."

"How hard?"

"I... well it hurt a lot."

"Show me."

He caught her off guard. "S... sorry?"

"Show me where he caned you."

"I, I'd rather not, sir. It was on my bum."

"I told you to show me, Alice. You're here to learn discipline, remember?" He still sounded kind and friendly, but... she didn't want to disobey him when he spoke like that.

"I... I can't."

"Why not?"

"I'm wearing jeans, sir."

"Stand up for me." She put her juice down, and stood."Step to your left. Now, turn around." She did. "Pull your jeans down."

She turned and started "Sir, I-"

"Keep facing that way," he cut her off. "Now, take down your jeans."

She turned back to the wall, and huffed. She shut her eyes for a moment, building up the courage, then unbuttoned her jeans and pushed them down around her knees. Looking straight ahead at the wall she heard the chair creak as he rose. She lifted her eyes to the ceiling, waiting... A long, agonising moment later she felt his presence behind her. He let her hear him. She turned her eyes sideways in her head, trying to see behind herself even though she knew that was impossible. His hand touched her shoulder, and she gave a little gasp. It gripped her gently, not squeezing her but holding her. Then she felt his fingers against the skin of her bum, his thumb brushing across the faded cane stripes. Even though he was holding her, she felt transfixed.

She might have been able to squirm out of his grasp if she had tried, but she couldn't, she felt rooted to the spot by his very presence, unable to move a muscle. His hand examined her. He pulled back her knickers, exposing more of her behind for his perusal, and then let them snap back. He crossed to the other cheek and repeated the process. Then his fingers edged south, gently probing further and further down, underneath her... God, she wanted him to go further, to go that last inch and brush against her moistening pussy. Instead, he paused a moment, feeling her warmth, and then withdrew his hand. She let out the breath she had been holding in frustration. The hand left her shoulder.

"Ok. Pull your jeans up."

And then she felt stupid. Wrong, sick... confused. Hadn't he been...? Wasn't he going to...? She realised that ever since she heard him get up from his chair she had been in a very sexual place. Him touching her had been a sexual experience and she had wanted more. She hadn't thought about it consciously, but she had been expecting him to... do things to her. To fuck her. But he hadn't, and now he was telling her to put her jeans back on. Had she imagined it? Had all that sexual energy just come from her? She felt idiotic and disgusted with herself. She bent down and grabbed her jeans, and at that moment she was sure she hadn't imagined it. She still couldn't see him, but she could feel it. His eyes boring into her behind. She was suddenly very aware of how wet she was, she pictured him, staring at her pussy lips pressed up against the white fabric of her panties, admiring the damp patch he had caused. Still bent over, she edged her head to the side, not far enough to look around, but enough to indicate she was aware of him. Slowly, very slowly, she lifted her bum, arching her back for him.

"Come on, chop chop," he snapped. Had she been mistaken after all? She turned her head all the way around now, swinging her tail end out to the side slightly. She caught his eye and he looked back nonchalantly. She was very attracted to him right then. Still holding his gaze, keeping her back arched, she did her very best to seductively slide her jeans up her thighs and over her bum. Being entirely new to this, she looked rather silly, but Alice didn't know that. She stood up and zipped up her jeans. Still no reaction, he just watched her with a half smile. She turned her head back to the wall. Damn it! What was wrong? Why didn't he want her? Did he? Was this just a game? She harrumphed inside and turned to face him, smiling.

"It seems to me that your headmaster did quite a number on you for marks like that to still be visible."

"Yes, sir, he did," she replied, trying to sound as sultry as possible.

"Well I hope you're ok to sit, my dear. Are you hungry?"

"Um, I am a little."

"Good, I think we'll go out for dinner."

"Out, sir?"

"Yes, out. I know a place. I doubt you'd feel terribly comfortable in those clothes so I bought you something." He bent down and pulled a thin matte black cardboard box out from the shelf underneath the coffee table, handing it to her. He then lent over, and slit open the bow holding the lid on with a pocket knife. The top end of the handle looked like it was made out of some weird patterned metal, and the rest was a deep, luminous mother of pearl that caught her eye. The blade was slender and mirror polished. He leaned back to watch her open the package. She looked at him suspiciously, then to the package, and eased the tight fitting lid off the box. Inside was a layer of black tissue paper, which she pulled away and underneath: a dress. She took it by the straps and pulled it up to look at it. The fabric was black and silky, but not so shiny. It was simple, with a black ribbon under the bust and little in the way of decoration, but it was nicely cut at the top, and had sexy little straps. Then she noticed the shoes underneath: Also black, heels about average height with straps that went up around the ankles.

"Oh my, it's lovely, thank you... how did you...?"

"Your headmaster told me your size," he chuckled, "he knew from the label inside your skirt." She blushed deeply and tried to hide it by looking down into the dress.

"There's a bathroom just through there where you can change. I'll go upstairs and throw something on too, ok?"

"Ok." She picked up the box and carried it to the bathroom as he went back into the hall.

Closing the bathroom door behind her, she took a look around. Clean, modern but not too modern. Lots of tiles and ceramic, a couple of black and white pictures on the wall, one signed by a Frank Sinatra Jr… Was that the Frank Sinatra? she wondered. In private suddenly, she desperately wanted to touch her pussy, to get off, to cum shudderingly with her hands down her pants, leaning against the bathroom door of this total stranger. But she didn't, for two reasons. First because she didn't want to gush all over his bathroom floor, second because, taking a moment in the cool, quiet room to think straight, this whole situation was totally bizarre.

Here she had come, expecting some kind of corrective camp for unruly students, to find a man who, though apparently well off, had no discernable occupation. He hadn't introduced himself as a life coach, a counsellor or an education specialist, he was just... a man. And that was before she thought about how he had made her strip off and touched her. And now he was taking her out to dinner in a dress and shoes he'd bought for her? What the hell was this? But on the other hand, she was deeply attracted to him, and the whole thing... turned her on. As evidenced by the crotch of her panties sticking to her thoroughly soaked pussy. As creepy as it was, she liked it. She closed her eyes and imagined him, instead of taking his hand away, rubbing her cunt, ripping her knickers off and fucking her over the sofa. All at once she felt desperate for that to happen, and utterly revolted with herself. He was a complete stranger and much older, she was a virgin and a Catholic schoolgirl. Abuse was what it sounded like. She decided to just see how things went, and got changed.