Just a Little Peek

Sally had to touch herself. She was feeling so excited, so aroused. She just had to do it. She slowly brought her fingers to her cunnie and, in full view of the three boys, softly felt and caressed her mound, exploring the silk slope with the tips of her fingers, bringing them even to her girlish slit. She could feel her moisture working its way through the silk. She wondered if the boys could in fact see her wetness. That might be a bit too embarrassing, too naughty, but then, maybe not. She drew her fingers right along the full length of her crevice, following along from the lowest point up to the button of her clit, on which she stopped to more forcefully press and rub. She was gasping with excitement, with lust, as she played with herself right in front of the guys.

Who were now sporting quite prominent erections, wondering if perhaps they should, or could, play with themselves as well. However, to do so might be easily noticed by others within the coffee room. Sally was at least facing only them, although anyone looking back at them might wonder what that girl was doing with her skirt raised up. No, they really couldn't touch themselves so openly, so boldly. Imagine being thrown out of Starbucks for masturbating. No, no, they couldn't do that.

Chris, however, did shift an open book into his slap and tried to surreptitiously place his hand on his cock beneath the book. This did not, however, go unnoticed by Sally. In fact, the sight of Chris starting to play with himself snapped her out of her reverie. This was perhaps going a bit too far. She pulled her own hand away and let go of her skirt, letting the curtain go down on her little show. "Well, um, I better be going boys," she suddenly and inexplicably exclaimed. "It was really nice seeing you, Ronnie," she said.

Ronald was still rather dumbstruck. "It was nice seeing you, Sally," he said, with considerable honesty.

"I really do have to go," she said, as she turned around to fetch her coffee, books, and purse and quickly dash out of the coffee room. She did in fact feel a strong urge to pee, which she wondered might in fact be in large part her own sexual arousal and the wetness within her panties. She was in any case feeling quite confused and flustered. She had never imagined that she would ever do anything like that, but with each step of exposure the next step didn't seem to be that bad. Yet, she now realized what she had in fact done. She had openly played with herself, her skirt upraised, right in front of three boys. That was a terribly naughty, perhaps even dangerous, thing to do. But, it had been so much fun, so exciting. She couldn't deny how excited, how aroused, she felt.

She made a dash for the women's room.

She got into a private stall, quickly pulled down her panties, and sat down to pee and think. And, perhaps to do more.

As she wiped off the pee from her cunnie, she could still feel her excited state. Her heart was going a mile a minute. She considered masturbating herself to orgasm within the stall. She certainly did feel an urge to do that. Her button was so inflamed, her cunnie leaking so much moisture. She had never felt this excited before.

She had to do more. This was just too much fun. She kicked her panties off of her ankles and stuffed them into her purse.

She returned to the coffee room, intent on raising the stakes even higher.

But, much to her dismay, the boys were gone. "Pooh!" she exclaimed with considerable disappointment and frustration. She was planning on doing so much more with them. Perhaps even sneaking some squeezes of their erect willies. She had fantasied about sitting on their laps, letting them put their hands under her skirt, letting them touch her naked cunnie as she played with their willies, perhaps even making them cum in their pants. That would have been terribly fun, getting them so excited that they blew their stuff into their own underwear, and then having to go clean themselves up. She smiled to herself as she thought about that.

But, nothing like that was going to happen. They had apparently also left soon after she had. She figured that perhaps they had taken off to take care of themselves, just as she had felt the urge. That brought back a smile to her face, realizing that they were probably, right now, pounding on their hard penises at the memory of her lifting up her skirt. Yes, they had to be doing that, and that did make her feel better.

'Oh well,' she thought.

As she proceeded down the hallway she wondered if perhaps she should risk another trek across the promenade. That would be taking this to a much higher level: letting her skirt fly up when she wasn't even wearing any panties at all! Blood ran to her face as she imagined doing that. Wow. No girl had probably ever done that before. Her heart was pounding just at the thought of doing it. Her legs even felt a bit weak, a bit wobbly.

And then, her notepad fell from her hand. She was carrying quite a bit of stuff: the notepad, books, purse, and now coffee. That would have been very difficult to handle, along with the wind blowing her skirt. She smiled to herself at the thought of possibly even just letting the wind do its stuff, pretending to not even notice the fact that her skirt was flying, pretending that perhaps she had just forgotten to wear panties that day and didn't know that she was showing everybody her stuff.

With all this distraction in her mind she did not realize that she probably shouldn't bend over to pick up her notepad. She was now, this time unintentionally, providing quite a good show to everyone behind her. In fact, a really, really good show of her naked, white fanny, the curves of her cunnie mound pushing out in between her soft thighs, and her delicate, feminine slit that was glistening in the morning light with wet girlish dew.

"Sally Andrews!"

"What?!" Sally yelped. She looked behind her. There, standing in the hallway, was Miss Harding, along with Mr. Peters, and they, or at least she, looked very upset. Mr. Peters was actually smiling, the dirty old man. "Sally Andrews, what on earth are you doing?"

"Excuse me, Miss Harding?" she innocently replied, now getting down on a knee to pick up her notepad.

Miss Harding walked up to her, took her by the arm, and raised her up. "Don't play innocent with me, little girl. I can't imagine what you were thinking, coming to class today without wearing any panties and in such a short skirt, besides."

Her little fun didn't seem so fun anymore. She wondered if she was in fact in considerable trouble. It was actually against the law to expose yourself in public. Fears of being arrested and going to jail swept over her. "I'm sorry, Miss Harding," she sincerely exclaimed.

"I don't imagine so, Sally, but I will teach you to be sorry. If you want to show your little white fanny to everyone, then let's do just that." She took her books and coffee from her hands and laid them on the floor.

"What?!" Sally exclaimed, in confusion and fright, as Miss Harding turned her around so that her backside faced Mr. Peters and everyone else down the hall. She pushed down on her shoulder to force her to bend over from the waist, and then she lifted up her skirt so everyone could see her little pale derriere and even whiter cunnie mound.

If Miss Harding was so upset at her exposing herself, why was she now make her do just that, and even more so. But, the answer quickly came when she felt the slap of Miss Harding's hand on her naked, exposed fanny. "Yikes!" she yelped as she felt the sting of the teacher's hand.

Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!

Heads immediately turned at the sound of the public spanking, and jaws dropped at the sight of the pretty young coed bent over at the waist, skirt tossed over her back, and the little white bottom being subjected to a lengthy and loud smacking, the virginal whiteness slowly taking on a pink hue.

Blow after blow rained down upon the cute little derriere. "Miss Harding! Please! I'm so sorry!" she repeatedly yelled, imploring Miss Harding to please show some mercy, some forgiveness, but Miss Harding would not be denied. "Not in front of everyone, please, not like this, this is so embarrassing."

"I would certainly hope so, young lady," she sternly replied.

Sally's legs were dancing and jumping, and her bottom was wiggling and squirming, trying to escape from the steady rain of spanks. Her efforts to escape were to no avail, and they in fact just increased the pleasure of the growing audience with her exhibitionistic display, as she was occasionally providing quite a number of good peeks at her deliciously little cunnie, itself seeming to prancing about between her thighs. It was such a delectably attractive mound, graced with such a tender slit.

Smack! Smack! Smack!

"Oh, yes, now we are embarrassed, are we? Isn't this precisely what you wanted? Having everybody see your precious little private parts?"

Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!

"Please stop! No! Wait!"

No, this is not precisely what she wanted. This was pretty much very different. It wasn't so much the embarrassment of what she was showing everyone, it was just the way she was being treated, like she was just a little girl getting a public spanking. This had in fact once happened to her when she was a girl, dressed in this very skirt. Apparently, the full range of her experiences with this skirt were being recalled.

Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!

"Yeeeoowww!" she squealed as her bottom continued to be punished, but that did not deter Miss Harding.

Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!

Quite a few boys had gathered around, as Sally was putting on quite a show. A few of them, those directly behind her, were even entertained by occasionally peeks at her red little rose bud, which provided a nice little flower against the background of her reddened cheeks.

Miss Harding finally stopped and pulled Sally back up straight, her skirt falling back down over her bottom. Most of the audience quickly scattered. They were uncertain whether Miss Harding might turn her wrath on them, accusing them of obtaining voyeuristic pleasure at the expense of the disciplined girl. They knew Miss Harding could be quite the disciplinarian (see "Miss Harding teaches the boys a lesson"). A few, however, bravely stuck around, hoping that perhaps the show was not quite finished.

Sally stood meekly before Miss Harding, her eyes a bit misty. She was clearly feeling very chastened and remorseful. "I'm so sorry, Miss Harding. I promise I won't do it again. I do, I do promise. I won't do it again." It's embarrassing to be so contrite, so repentant, in front of your classmates, but she really didn't have any choice, unless she wanted the spanking to resume.

Miss Harding kept hold of her arm as she continued to lecture her. "Well, I imagine not. You were being a very naughty girl, Sally. I am sorry for having to spank you in front of everyone, but I believe it was for your own good."

"Oh yes, Miss Harding, I understand. I know I deserved a spanking." Her face reddened at such an admission in front of so many boys.

"Yes, well, I think you should go home right now and put on a pair of panties."

"Oh yes, absolutely, Miss Harding." She could have told Miss Harding that she did in fact already have a pair of panties in her purse, but they were far from regulation panties, and she wasn't about to get into trouble for that as well.

Miss Harding let go of her arm. "Yes, well, I have to attend a meeting with Mr. Peters now, otherwise we would speak some more about this, but I will let you go for now. And, while you're at home, I think it would be best to get into another skirt."

Sally's hands went to her bottom, which stung so terribly much. "Oh, thank you so much, Miss Harding. I will go home right away. Thank you, ma'am."

"Alright then, that's a good girl." Miss Harding turned and left. She was now in a bit of hurry herself. She was feeling quite enthusiastic about her meeting with Mr. Peters. Mr. Peters was the primary disciplinarian of the college and she considering consulting with him about this episode, perhaps even demonstrating the experience with him with the aid of his pillory, as she had so much previously enjoyed (see "The pillory").

Sally picked up her books, purse, and coffee, being careful this time to crouch down, with knees bent, and took off in the other direction.

"Wait, wait," Ronald called.

Sally turned around. It was Ronnie. He hadn't left after all. Her face flushed with embarrassment as their eyes met.

"Oh no, Ronald, you didn't just see that, did you?"

Ronald considered denying it. It was clear that she was embarrassed about it. But, he doubted that she would believe him if he lied. His voiced lowered as he confessed, "Yea, yea, I did."

Sally so much wanted to cover her face with her hands, but with all that she was holding she was unable to hide her shame. It is one thing to willfully display yourself to someone, it is something entirely different to be forced to do so against your will, and in such an infantile manner. She looked down and away from Ron. "Oh Ronnie, I'm so embarrassed."

Ron gently laid his hand on her arm. "Oh no, Sally, please, don't feel that way. You don't need to be embarrassed."

Sally looked into his eyes. "Ronald, I was spanked in front of everyone! On my bare bottom!" She quickly looked around to see if there was anyone else around that she recognized. Who else had witness this humiliation? Those who had remained behind now turned away and walked off, feeling rather self-conscious about their own voyeurism. Sally didn't recognize any of their faces. That did help; at least somewhat.

Ronald tried to reassure her. "Most everybody has been spanked before, Sally." He really didn't know if that was actually true, but it did seem like a nice thing to say.

"Yea, but not in public and not at my age."

He didn't have a compelling rejoinder to that. "Here, come on, let's get away from here."

He didn't have to provide that suggestion twice. Sally didn't want to stay there a second longer. They moved around the corner, down the stairs toward the lounges, and found a relatively secluded alcove where there were some leather benches, cushioned chairs, and couches. Ronald sat down on one of the couches.

Sally wanted to sit down beside him but, frankly, her bottom was still stinging. It would just be too uncomfortable. She instead climbed onto the couch to his right and sat down on her knees, which allowed her bottom to remain off the cushion.

Ronald asked, sympathetically, "Does it hurt, Sally?"

"Oh yes, so terribly much." She spoked very quietly, not wanting anyone sitting in the chairs or benches to hear. "I don't think I have ever been spanked so hard before."

Ron could see the discomfort in her face, as her teeth were clenched, eyes were squinting, and her brow was so furrowed. "I wish I could do something to help, Sally."

Sally bent over to place her coffee down on the floor. Ron gently placed his hand on her back to help steady her. As she leaned over, her skirt rose up, and he could see how red her bottom had become. It seemed even redder now than before, as if the blood was still flowing in to try to help ease the pain. The only part that wasn't so red was down into the crack, that sweet white crack splitting such a soft plush round apple bottom.

"Wow," he whispered, "It is really red, Sally."

"Ronnie!" she complained. She was now regretting her decision to wear such a short skirt. "You shouldn't look at it."

That was kind of an odd remark, he thought. After all, just a few minutes ago she had raised up her skirt to show him her cunnie. Although, at that time, she did have on her panties. He wondered for a moment what did in fact happen to her panties. "Sorry, Sally. It just kind of popped into view."

After carefully placing her coffee on the floor, Sally laid her books on the couch, to her right. She then sat back on her haunches. "Oh, that's okay, Ronnie. It's really my fault for wearing such a short skirt." Sally's thoughts were in fact consumed by the stinging. She briefly brought her hand back to try to rub her bottom. That did always help when she was spanked as a little girl. But, it would just be too noticeable to those sitting near them and, in fact, she would have to lift up her skit if she wanted to really sooth her bottom. She quickly pulled her hand back. "Oh my, it just stings so bad."

Ronald saw what she had wanted to do. He hesitated, knowing that this was a very risky step. But, he just couldn't sit back and ignore her discomfort and pain. He moved even closer beside her and slid his right hand along the cushions of the couch, under her skirt, and up her skirt to gently rest his hand on the smooth, round, soft, warm skin of her derriere.

"Ronnie!" Sally squealed, bringing her hand to her mouth in shock. She had never had a boy place his bare hand on her butt before. It was rather shocking, indeed.

Sally's squeal turned the heads of everyone sitting near them. Ronald froze his hand against Sally's bottom. Moving it away now would only reveal where it was. If he kept his hand still they really couldn't see where it was placed. His arm was well hid by his and Sally's bodies, and he didn't actually have to lift up her skit to get under it.

Sally, however, was quite self-conscious over the fact that everyone was now looking at them, obviously wondering what the squeal was all about. Of course, she was even more self-conscious over the fact that Ronnie had his hand on her bare bottom, but she certainly didn't want everyone around them to know about it. Thinking fast, she turned her head to Ronald and said, almost as loudly, "I never said anything like that! You know me better than that."

Ronald was at first confused by this nonsensical remark but he recovered quickly and replied, "Yeah, yeah, I know, you're right, I'm sorry," as his hand began to softly caress her smooth, soft skin.

Sally said in a more normal tone of voice, "Well, okay, it's okay. I'm sorry I got mad," her eyes widening at him, looking rather consternated as she felt his hand move across her naked derriere. She said more softly, "Ronnie, what do you think you're doing."

"Doesn't this help? My mother used to rub my bottom after I got a spanking." Actually, she was still doing that (see "Ron gets a lesson from his mother"), but he knew it was best not to tell her that.

"Well, yes, it does." She had to admit that it did actually feel rather nice. The soft, caressing touch of his hand was very soothing. She could feel the stinging slowly but surely dissipating.

Ron smiled. "It feels nice for me too." It was indeed a very cute little bottom, and one which brought considerable pleasure to fondle, caress, and explore. There is something so delicately delicious about a tender sweet behind in your hand, exploring those candy-coated curves, flirting with that inviting crack that hid such luscious treasures.

Sally sighed with relief and pleasure as she felt Ron's masculine, yet tender and affectionate hand sooth her behind. Her father had never done this when she was spanked as a little girl, and now she so wished he had, although frankly that would probably have been inappropriate, as Ron's caresses were as sexual as they were nursing. The stinging was being replaced with a warmth that was not within the cheeks of her bottom.

Sally turned her face toward Ron, feeling a little discomfitted, confused, about the fact that he was so openly fondling her bare bottom. She could feel her face getting as warm as he cunnie. "Now, don't you take advantage of this Ronald," she playfully scolded him.

"How could I do anything like that," he assertively declared, as the tips of his fingers momentarily slid down the length of the crack of her bottom.