Summoned by the Headmaster

'You wanted to see me, Sir?'

I shift nervously on my heels as I look at my Headmaster, Mr Hardwood, sitting behind his big, solid mahogany desk. I've always been a little in awe of him, truth be told. He's an imposing man; tall, muscular, with cool grey eyes and silver streaking his temples and neat, dark beard. He exudes a certain gravitas that you might expect of a man in such a position of power. I've always tried to work hard and do the right thing so I've never been called to his office at lunchtime before.

'Yes, Ms Kissme. You have always impressed me with your work ethic, and the commitment to the pupils in your care is evident in their outstanding progress,' he says, whilst piercing me with his unflinching gaze.

'Th.. thank you, Sir,' my shoulders relaxing slightly as I realise that he is happy with my work.

'However...'

Immediately my muscles lock back up and my skin pebbles as I chill with anxiety. I catch his gaze moving to the front of my crisp, white button up blouse where the delicate lace cups of my demi bra are barely visible beneath the cool cotton. Apparently my skin wasn't the only part of me that pebbled at his words.

'...It has come to my attention that you are in flagrant disregard of the rules. Rules which are in place for good reason and which you promised to uphold when you started working for me,' he continues sternly.

'But, but, Mr Hardwood, what do you mean? I would never break the rules!' I stammer out as my face flushes hotly.

Raising an eyebrow, he selects a heavy tome from the shelf behind his desk and leafs efficiently to a bookmark he has placed partway through, before reading, 'Female teachers must comport themselves with the decorum befitting a demure and respectable role model for the students in their care. No clothing should suggest impropriety and skirts should come to no more than one inch above the knees.'

I follow the Headmaster's slow gaze as he takes in my sheer blouse and continues down, over my hips where my snug skirt is hugging my curves, down to mid-thigh, where my barely-black sheer stockings add a sheen to my long, toned legs.

'Do you truly believe, Ms Kissme, that what you're wearing qualifies as 'demure and respectful'? And I hardly think I need to draw your attention to the length of your hem do I?' He sighs heavily, as if I have disappointed him with my wanton behaviour. I blush harder, the glow creeping down my neck, drawing his eyes to the swell of my creamy breasts.

'I'm sorry, Sir. I didn't realise I'd broken the rules. I'll go home and change immediately. Please forgive me,' I beg desperately. I can't lose this job. With rent I can barely afford now I'd be out on the streets! But part of me just can't bear to think that I've let him down, let myself down.

'Unfortunately, Ms Kissme, it's not as simple as that. Rules have been broken and consequences must be paid. Rulebreakers are always punished in my school and there can be no exceptions. I'm sure you agree that consistency is so important in disciplinary measures?' he looks down at me expectantly.

'Yes, Sir. I mean, please, Sir, please don't punish me. I promise I'll never disappoint you again,' I nearly sob with mortification.

'Nonetheless, if a rule has been broken, as day follows dawn, chastisement must surely follow. But in the interests of fairness, let's get the offending item measured. Normally I would do this on a wooden bench, but that would require us going to the gym hall in front of the students. Is that what you would like, or would you prefer I measure you here?'

The thought of my humiliation being witnessed by an audience of children is too much to bear.

'In here, Sir. Please deal with me privately,' I mumble, deeply ashamed.

'So be it. Up on my desk now,' he replies briskly, holding his hand out to help me up.

'Your, your desk, Sir?' I blink up at him, wide-eyed.

'Of course. I need a strong, flat surface for you to kneel on so that the measurement is accurate. I pride myself on being firm but fair. Quickly now, I'm a very busy man and cannot spend my whole day seeing to your discipline. '

My heart in my mouth, I take his large, warm hand and allow him to help me stand on his chair before awkwardly kneeling on his tall desk. Now my breasts are head-height and I quickly look away so I don't have to see his mouth so tantalising close to my aching buds. Thankfully, he reaches for a wooden ruler on his desk. Just seeing that unforgiving piece of polished wood in his firm hands makes my mouth go dry, but instead of flexing it menacingly, he strokes his hand down my flank, from hip to knee, ostensibly straightening my offending skirt, leaving a trail of tingling goosebumps on his wake.

My eyes lock back on his face, but he is busy pressing the ruler to my thigh as he uses his fingertip to run up my inner thigh from my knee to my hem. Shaking his head, he solemnly pronounces, 'Three inches above the knee, Ms Kissme. A shocking violation of the school's dress code. You have earned yourself a firm punishment. As a teacher I expect you to be beyond approach. How can we expect the pupils to follow the rules if those in a position of responsibility are seen to flout them? Despite your exemplary record to date, I simply cannot in all good conscious let this slide. I'm sure you agree?'

Heart pounding, I can't suppress a small moan as I nod my assent.

He holds out his hand to help me down from the desk, then gently palms my hips to turn me back towards it. Pressing one hand between my shoulder blades, he firmly bends me over his desk. 'Palms flat. I'm sure I don't have to remind you to hold position, no reaching back?' he asks, almost kindly.

My hands leave damp prints as they slide along the leather blotter on the surface of his desk, until I am finally in position. My heels push my straightened legs higher, making my plump ass strain against the fabric of my skirt. Oh, how I wish I'd followed the rules. I wouldn't be in this position now, but even if I was, another three inches might have just covered my modesty. But now my short skirt is pulled up over the upper curves of my cheeks, revealing my stocking tops and lacy suspender belt along with the lower half of my silky peach panties with, to my eternal shame, just a hint of moistness around the gusset. I hear him suck in a breath, perhaps shocked at my brazen response to his firm authority, perhaps breathing in the evidence of my shameless arousal.

'The punishment for a first offence, Ms Kissme, is a dozen firm strokes of the school paddle to be administered over clothing. In your case, you have only yourself to blame for your current state of undress. However, should the offence be repeated, the punishment will be a much harder lesson to bear,' he says darkly, looking pointedly at the cane displayed on the wall behind his desk. 'Tell me when you are ready to make your pennance.'

How could I ever be ready to ask for my punishment? But the longer I put it off, the more time I will have to spend in this horribly humiliating position. Taking a deep breath, I murmur, 'I'm, I'm ready, Sir... Oh!'

The paddle strikes my vulnerable right cheek, making a resounding crack that leaves me jumping up to rub my smarting flesh.

'Get back down immediately! How dare break position? That stroke will not count. Now we shall start again from the beginning,' Mr Hardwood growls.

It takes all of my willpower to bend myself back over his desk, and this time I reach right across and grip the edge with white knuckles, making my skirt ride up even higher.

Smack!

The paddle bites into the unmarked skin of my left cheek. Oh, it stings!

Crack!

My sore right globe gets its second dose, which makes it flare brightly with pained heat.

'Oh, Sir, please, not so hard!'

'You, Ms Kissme, are not in a position to dictate your punishment. Your job is to accept what I give you and think about being better behaved in future.'

Smack, smack!

Aargh! Two more harsh strokes, both on my smarting left cheek.

Crack, crack!

Although I knew it was coming, the two quick, hard strokes he lays down on my sore right cheek burn like I've been seared on a hot griddle.

Pausing for a moment, Mr Hardwood rubs his cool, slightly rough hand over my blistered flesh, enjoying the heat he has kindled.

'And so, we are halfway through. Up on your toes now, so I can place your final six licks on the backs of your thighs.'

Oh, the embarrassment of having to lift my glowing butt even higher to give him access to my vulnerable thighs. And the way he talks about his 'licks'... I can feel my panties clinging wetly to my swollen petals. Why am I reacting like this to his disapproving tone, to his firm discipline? I must be a very wicked young lady indeed to crave such painful discipline. What must he think of me? How will I ever look him in the eyes again?

Whack! Whack!

Mr Hardwood quickly snaps his wrist and brands my tender thighs, just below where they meet the undercurves of my cheeks.

'Oh, ow, owww, it hurts!' I wail, hips wiggling as I try to shake off the painful burn, hands still gripping the desk, afraid to let go for fear he will add to my strokes.

'Of course it hurts, Ms Kissme. That is the express purpose of a punishment. How else will you learn an important lesson about your need to submit yourself to the guidance of those in authority? Back up on your toes now, offer yourself up for the punishment you know that you so richly deserve.'

Crack! Slap! Smack! Whack!

'Aaagh! I'm sorry, I'm sorry!' I sob, collapsing over the desk, churning my legs and flexing my knees compulsively to try to shake off the unbearable sting, as the four hardest strokes sear my tender sit spots.

'You are forgiven, Ms Kissme,' he replies gruffly, seemingly not unaffected by what had just transpired between us, as he lays the now-warm paddle next to me on the desk, 'If I'm not mistaken, the lunchbell is about to ring, so now you may compose yourself and return to class. I do not expect to have to repeat this lesson,' he states grimly.

'No, Sir. Thank you for giving me another chance. I promise I won't let you down!' I mumble as I straighten my skirt, smooth down my hair and leave the office, with my hands sneaking back to clutch and rub my burning cheeks.

And later in bed, when the fiery pain has turned to a warm glow, I replay my punishment at Mr Hardwood's hand and my fingers sneak between my thighs to relieve the ache that had be plaguing me since I'd entered the office. The punishment hurt and I wanted to die of embarrassment but there was something so darkly exciting about his effortless dominance. I imagined, after the paddling, Mr Hardwood sliding my soaking panties down my legs, slipping his fingers between my thighs to pet my weeping pussy, before spreading me wide and mastering me with his unforgiving manhood. Oh, yes, how I ached for that.

So, instead of laying out my more modest clothing, I deliberately choose a clingy minidress to slip into tomorrow morning, then fall asleep dreaming of the ways in which my body will be required to pay for my insubordination during my next summons to the Headmaster's office...