An Apology

"Well, Miss Tracy, I think that about it," said the Principal. "So once again, welcome to Lawndale. Oh, there is one last thing, and please don't take this as a criticism. You might like to consider dressing a bit more severely for the classes you take. The way you are now you could easily be mistaken for one of the students. You might like to consider that. Are there any other things you'd like more information on?"

I had to admit that the old boy probably had a point with the clothes. A couple of the older students had already assumed that I was just a new girl and not a new teacher. One of the boys had actually been hitting on me. Maybe wear my hair in a bun and put on some heavy rimmed glasses.

Anyway, what more did I need to know. I ran through the questions I'd asked, mentally checking them off. Oh, yes, that one was outstanding.

"I understand what you're saying about my clothes sir and I admit you have a point. I'll be doing something about that. There was one last point I'd like clarified. I noticed that Lawndale still uses corporal punishment. Exactly what is entailed in that?"

"Well, that is only reserved for the most recalcitrant students," said the Principal. "It's a rare occurrence. Students who are deemed to require it are sent to see Sam Ogilvie, our PE instructor. He handles the actual punishment. You might like to stop by his office before you go to the staffroom. I'm sure he can explain it a lot better than I can. You'll find his office down at the gymnastics hall. He should be available right now as I don't think he's got a current class."

So, departing the Principal's office, I headed off towards the gymnasium. Not many schools still used corporal punishment and so I thought I'd better get more details about it. I found Sam Ogilvie's office, knocked, and entered when he yelled.

My first impression was that he was a big brute, all healthy muscles and fit as can be. I supposed he had to be fit to be a PE instructor. He'd stood up when I came in and I could appreciate what was quite a hunk of male. I could see that Lawndale might have some attractions I hadn't expected.

"Mr Ogilvie?" I asked, and when he nodded I continued. "I'm Marie Tracy. I'm new here. The Principal sent me here. He said you handle all corporal punishment at Lawndale."

Before I could continue to ask exactly what it entailed, things went a little screwy. Sam muttered what sounded like "There's always one" and took a step towards me. Next thing I knew he was sitting down on the visitors chair and I was falling forward across his lap.

Would you believe the son-of-a-bitch flicked my dress up, panties down, and landed a solid spank on my bottom before I could get another word out? I squealed in shock and pain. Who wouldn't? That monster had big hands and my bottom hurt.

What was worse, he kept on spanking. He must have got in half a dozen solid spanks on my poor bare bottom before I could stop squealing and wriggling and get a coherent sentence together.

"Will you stop that, you great moron," I shrieked. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Sam paused for a moment, leaving his hand resting on my bottom, damn him.

"I'm giving you the corporal punishment the Principal sent you for," he calmly told me. "What did you think corporal punishment would be? A slap on the hand?"

"I'm a new teacher, you maniac," I snarled. "I was sent to have you explain what corporal punishment involved at Lawndale. Since you're the one who deals with it, the Principal said you'd be in the best position to explain."

"Then why didn't you say that immediately," growled Sam, "instead of starting up by saying the Principal sent you for corporal punishment? You look like one of the students. What else was I supposed to think?"

"You didn't give me chance to explain," I pointed out. "You just grabbed me and started spanking. Now would you mind letting me up?"

"Hmm. I think I would," said Sam.

I blinked. He would what?

"What?"

"I would mind letting you up. Seeing you're already bent over my knee with your bottom nice and bare, and only slightly flushed, it seems to me to be quite reasonable to finish the job. Then you'll know precisely how we handle corporal punishment at Lawndale."

He had to be fucking kidding me.

He wasn't. His hand came down hard on my bottom again, and I squealed again. And he didn't stop at just the one extra spank. He just went right ahead and spanked me, pounding my poor little tush to mush. All my squeals and wriggling and protesting were just ignored while his great ham of a hand landed on my bottom again and again.

When he finally called it a day my bottom felt well and truly blistered, and I probably had tears on my cheeks. I couldn't believe what that awful man had just done. Then he started yacking at me. He sat there, me still across his lap, his hand rubbing lightly back and forth across my bottom and decided to explain things.

"Now you know what any of the girls you send for corporal punishment will get," he said, "so think carefully before you decide to invoke it. You will note, however, that there was nothing sexual about the spanking. When I spanked you, the only part affected were your cheeks, covering this area."

I could feel him running a finger around my bottom, marking his target area. I just wanted his hand off me.

"You will find that I am very careful, when dealing with the girls, not to let my hand slip down to this area. They might get the wrong idea if I did."

I'll say. His hand slipped between my legs to mark the no-go area, and I'd just as soon he'd kept his hand off my pussy as well. And how come I'd let my legs drift apart to give him access? Careless of me. And if I tried to close them now I'd just be pressing his hand hard against me.

"Will you please move your hand away from there?" I asked with great restraint. I really wanted to scream at him to shift it.

"In a moment," Sam said affably. "I'm just finishing explaining. As you know this entire area is very sensitive, and if I accidentally spanked the girls here they could get aroused. Observe."

Before I could wonder what observe meant, Sam took his hand away from my pussy, thank you god, and then started lightly spanking it. What the hell?

I started squealing and writhing again, yelling at him to stop. It wasn't that he was hurting, the spanks being much to light for that, but it was definitely arousing and he knew it.

To my relief, he did stop, and helped me back onto my feet. I was about to reach down to pull my panties up, before trying to slap his head off, but he moved first. Not to pull my panties up, however. Not this guy. He lifted my dress up and tucked the hem into the waistband, leaving my mound on full display. The gall of the man just had no end.

I was reaching for my dress to pull it back down when Sam spoke, calmly telling me to leave my dress alone. I must have looked as incredulous as I felt, because he deigned to explain to me.

"I feel I need to apologise for my mistake," he told me. "You seemed to me to be the type of woman who would appreciate seeing the apology being made."

I wasn't left wondering what the hell he meant. Even before he finished talking he was undoing his trousers and dropping them so that his 'apology' stood out. It seemed he wanted to make a very sincere apology indeed. I couldn't believe this was happening. Men just don't do this sort of thing.

I tried to back away from him, only to find the desk behind me. Sam hooked a toe against my ankle, making me move my legs further apart. Then he was standing even closer to me and, looking down, I could see his erection staring to press against my slit.

"You can't do this," I protested, not really believing it, because it was obvious that he not only could but would.

To make me even angrier he took my hand and pressed it against him where he was pressing against me. Then he just looked at me expectantly. I looked back blankly and he just smiled and waited. He wasn't trying to force his way into me or anything. He was just standing there.

It slowly dawned on me. He wanted me to move my lips apart and let him in. He expected me to help him make his 'apology'. I was still glaring at him when I felt him sliding past my fingers and into me. Looking down I was truly aghast to see that my fingers had spread, opening my lips and giving Sam the access he wanted. I did not want this and yet I was helping him do it.

All I could do now was watch as his erection unhurriedly made its way inside me. And feel, of course. It felt just as big as it looked. It seemed Sam wanted to make a huge apology. It certainly felt that way.

Sam's erection was certainly holding my attention. I could feel it filling me, taking me over. Any incidental pain in my bottom was fading away, being replaced by this replete feeling as Sam pushed all the way home. No doubt the smarting would come back later, but how could I think about that when I was much more aware of the new sensations now taking place.

With Sam fully inside me I turned my eyes back to his face. I wanted to tell him to stop, that this was rape, that I didn't want this, but I just looked at his smiling face and didn't say a word. I just started rocking along with him as he started pumping.

Sam took his time, slowly building up his rhythm, and my body joyfully responded, forgetting his brutal assault on my bottom and just riding along with this far more pleasant assault.

We just seemed to go on and on. The spanking seemed to last for ages while it was happening, but it now seemed just a momentary thing compared to the way this gentle ravishment went on. There was no hurry. No frantic rush to completion. Just Sam slowly taking his time and letting me know why my body was created.

Sam would thrust his erection deep into me, and I could feel it filling me, mastering me, bringing me pleasure. Then it would withdraw while I clung to it, only to have it come surging back, increasing the pleasure with each thrust.

Oddly enough, Sam's erection and my mound were the only contact between us. My arms were stretched behind me, supporting my weight against the desk, while Sam's arms were resting on the desk on either side of me. He would thrust in until out loins came together, and I could feel his rough hair tickling my mons, and then he'd be gone again, only to return with another vigorous thrust.

This was, I think, the only time I'd ever made love with no additional touching. It was weird, and awfully erotic. I was breathing hard, trying not to scream as Sam drove in.

Somehow or other we had increased out tempo. Although it felt as though we were still moving slowly I found that Sam was actually banging into me hard and fast, and I was pushing back against him just as hard. I was gasping as the tension inside me tightened, feeling as though I was being drawn along a fine wire, all my nerves stretching and every little movement was plucking at them, making them sing.

Then I was singing, or screaming anyway, jamming my hand against my mouth to muffle the sound as Sam climaxed and I felt hot liquid splashing deep inside me, pushing me over the edge so all those shredded nerves twanged at once, and I screamed into my climax.

When I recovered I found that Sam was dressed and my panties and dress were in place. (That didn't mean that I didn't feel a lot of stickiness in that general area. A bathroom call was a must.)

"I hope my apology was sufficient," Sam murmured. "If not I'm always available to give another."

Yes, I'll just bet you are. I wondered how many older students had found him apologising after getting spanked. I promptly resolved never to direct any of my students to his tender mercies. He didn't have any. I just gave him a speaking look and got the hell out of there before he decided he wanted seconds.