Taken by the Headmaster

I woke a full hour early for school today to give myself time to prepare.

After being summoned yesterday to the Headmasters office for violating the school's dresscode and being paddled firmly for not setting an appropriate example for my impressionable students, I'd promised to dress in a more 'respectable' fashion. However, despite, or maybe because of, the pain and humiliation of that punishment at Mr Hardwood's unforgiving hands, I craved more of his strict discipline.

So, this morning, I spent time waxing, plucking and tweezing every inch of my body to ensure that I was ready for his scrutiny. I blow-dried my long, dark hair to fall in gentle waves down my back and added a subtle hint of natural make up. Then I wriggled into my tight minidress, which I knew would sorely provoke Mr Hardwood and spur him into action. I didn't know if he would be able to maintain his icy calm or what storm he would unleash on me, but I couldn't wait to ride the hurricane of his righteous fury.

When I arrived at school, I made sure to say good morning to Mrs Peasbody, PA to the Headmaster and a terrible gossip. The scandalised way she looked me up and down ensured that the news of my dress choice would reach Mr Hardwood within moments of me leaving the Reception area. Sure enough, I had only just arrived at my classroom when my name was called over the tannoy. For the second time in two days, I was summoned to report to the Headmaster.

My heart beat wildly and already I felt butterflies of anticipation, and not a little fear, swarm in the pit of my stomach. Butterflies that started to work their way lower, the closer I came to my reckoning.

Mrs Peasbody was sitting at her desk outside Mr Hardwood's door, trying to temper the gleeful look on her face, as she buzzed through to announce, 'Ms Kissme is here to see you, Sir.'

'Send her in,' came the response, which had me swallowing as I nervously approached the door, 'And, Mrs Peasbody, cancel my appointments and arrange cover for Ms Kissme's class for the rest of the day, as she will not be returning until tomorrow.'

While processing that bit of unexpected information, I knocked timidly on the door.

'Come!'

And I very neatly did, so on edge from a night of furious masterbation and a morning of breathless anticipation, all of which had culminated in this moment.

'Shut and lock the door, Ms Kissme. I don't believe you are going to want to be disturbed.'

Mrs Peasbody's smirking face dropped when the door closed and she realised she wasn't going to witness my humiliating appointment.

Standing up, Mr Hardwood came around his desk to walk a slow circle around me, taking in my shiny black heels, my long stockinged legs and my clingy black dress that started just above mid-thigh and hugged all my curves before ending in a sweetheart neckline and three-quarter length sleeves.

In all honesty, above the waist I might have just about got away with the cut of the snug dress if it had not been for the red silky push-up bra I'd worn, which thrust my DD cups into the spotlight.

Below the waist, there was no getting away from the way the fabric lovingly clung to my generous, peachy ass, not to mention the pitifully short hemline, which I knew would give more than a hint of lacy stocking top if I were to do anything other than stand up straight.

Breathing out a heavy sigh, Mr Hardwood shook his head and sighed as he asked, 'Well, Ms Kissme. This is the second time in as many days that I have had to call you to my office for flouting the rules. What do you have to say for yourself?'

And that was the question, wasn't it. What could I say to explain myself? Yesterday was an honest mistake. I hadn't realised that the dresscode was more than just a loose guideline and I'd become lax in adhering to it. But today, with the last of the pink marks from my paddling yet to fade, I had absolutely no excuse for such a shocking wardrobe choice. I couldn't possibly tell him that I wanted to earn myself a punishment. That I wanted altogether more from him. What would he think of me?

Instead, I looked down at the shiny brown brogues in front of me and mumbled, 'I'm sorry, Mr Hardwood.'

'Eyes up! I expect you to look at me when I am addressing you, Ms Kissme,' he growled.

Reluctantly, I raised my eyes; up his smartly-trousered legs with his firm thighs outlined against the well-cut wool, past his buttoned jacket and crisply-ironed shirt, to the formidable look on his frowning face.

'I don't believe that you are sorry, Ms Kissme. But trust me when I tell you, by the time you leave my office, you will be one very sorry, very sore, little girl indeed.'

I gasped at his words, even as my pussy clenched in excitement, 'I'm not a little girl! I'm 23 years old and a respected teacher!'

'Respect is earned, Ms Kissme, and the way you have been comporting yourself in recent days shows a flagrant disregard for the rules, which are your job to uphold. It seems that in my determination to take your exemplary record into account and give you a chance to redeem yourself, I did not make the necessary impression upon you. You can be assured that I will not make the same mistake again.'

Walking back to his desk, Mr Hardwood reached again for the leather-bound book of school rules, which was today open to the correct page.

'As I warned you yesterday, the punishment for a second offense is much more severe.'

My eyes flew to the cane, mounted on the wall behind his desk and I swallowed around my suddenly dry mouth. Watching my face, he grimly continued, 'Indeed, today you will be tasting six of the best from my cane, as this is a serious offence and needs to leave a lasting impression. However, the fact that you have willfully chosen to wear such a shameless garment to a place of learning, despite my warning, means you have added extra to your chastisement.'

I blanched as the horror of his words registered. I thought I'd get more of the same, another firm paddling, maybe on my naked backside. But to know that I had earned myself a session with his cane, as well as extra discipline, was almost too terrifying to contemplate. I'd never survive it!

'Oh, please, Sir. Not the cane! I understand that I need to be punished, but please, couldn't you use the paddle instead? It really hurt and I promise it would teach me my lesson,' I begged, looking up at him beseeching.

'Oh, don't you worry, Ms Kissme, we shall certainly be using the paddle today. In fact, we shall be doubling what you received yesterday, to ensure that the message really hits home. And additionally, I shall be giving you a well-deserved over-the-knee spanking. If you choose to behave like a spoiled, attention-seeking child, then you will be treated like one.'

I could barely breathe as the horror of my sentence was declared. I would be receiving two dozen with the paddle, six with the cane and a spanking? Over his knee? In some ways, that was what I was most terrified about. I frantically searched for a way out of this situation of my own making when I realised he had continued speaking.

'Now, most people in my position would carry out this punishment in incremental steps, starting with the spanking, then working up to the paddling and finishing with the cane. I, however, do not abide by the notion of starting out easy. This is a punishment and as such it is supposed to be difficult to bear. So, for your discipline, I shall be starting with six firm strokes of the cane, then reddening your entire backside and thighs with my paddle before finishing you off with a sound spanking.'

I moaned in horror, as his lips quirked cruelly, 'And, of course, today it will be on the bare.'

My knees felt weak and I would have sunk down to the chair if it weren't for his large hand firmly grasping my upper arm and guiding me over his desk, my face in the open pages of the rule book.

'And while I am seeing to your punishment, I think it would benefit you to read the rule you keep forgetting, to see if this time it will make a more lasting impression.'

I heard a masculine intake of breath as Mr Hardwood stood back and saw what my bent position had revealed. Pushing myself up, I craned my head back to watch in horror as Mr Hardwood ran his fingertips up the top of my stockings, along my suspender clips and up the bare skin at the top of my thighs, until he finally encountered my hem, which had ridden high up over my cheeks. Cheeks which were entirely unprotected by the tiny, red lacy thong I had chosen this morning.

Grasping my hem in both hands, he quickly tugged it up to the small of my back, where it clung to my waist. With the stretchy material, there was no way that was ever going to fall back down to cover my poor, defenceless bottom.

'Inadequate though this flimsy scrap of lace is, these panties will have to go. Reach back, Ms Kissme, and tug them down to your knees, if you please. It is important that you demonstrate that you accept the need for this punishment by baring yourself willingly.'

My face was flaming. It was humiliating enough that he could probably see the dampened gusset of my lacy thong, and possibly even scent my arousal. I really didn't want to bare myself any further. Reluctantly, my hands crept back and snagged the thin lace at either side of my hips, dragging it slowly down to the tops of my thighs. Here the silk was still barely covering my excited womanhood, and I dreaded removing this final barrier and letting him see the shame of my glistening honey. I started to move my hands away but his sharp retort, 'All the way down to your knees, Ms Kissme!' had me hurrying to comply.

I squirmed in the silence that followed, knowing that Mr Hardwood was staring at my freshly-waxed pussy, pouting moistly between my trembling thighs. However, I squirmed harder as I saw him remove his jacket, unbutton his right shirt cuff and roll his sleeve up before walking behind his desk to retrieve the long, slim instrument of my torture from its mount in the wall.

'I trust that you recall the rules from yesterday, however let me repeat them now in the interests of clarity. You must stay in position at all times until I tell you to move. Breaking position with result in additional strokes. Rubbing is not allowed - you will keep your naughty fingers away from your punished bottom. Feel free to voice your discomfort, however, be aware that my Administrator and rest of the faculty and student body are just beyond that door.'

The thought of Mrs Peasbody, probably with a glass pressed to the door, hearing my punishment, made me moan in mortification.

'And so, we begin. I to my task and you to yours,' he intoned, tapping the page with the cane to indicate where I should start reading.

I took a deep breath, which turned to a gasp when I heard him swish the cane menacingly behind me as he measured his first stroke.

Pushing myself up on my forearms, I focussed on the text and read, 'Female teachers must comport themselves... Aaah!' The first stroke caught me across the fullest part of both cheeks, perfectly quartering my plump bottom with a white line that quickly turned dark red. Grasping the desk, I churned my hips as I tried to come to terms with the pain.

'I do so love to see my work painted on a blank canvass,' Mr Hardwood murmured to himself, almost reverently, 'Continue!'

'...with the decorum befitting a demure and respectable role model... Ahh, ah, ahhh!' I bent one leg then the other up, as if to belatedly sheild my smarting cheeks from the burn of the second, cruel stroke.

'Position, Ms Kissme!'

'...for the students in their care! Noo, oh, oh!' The third stroke caught me just below the other two, close to the bottom curve of my cheeks. This one hurt the most by far. I didn't know how much more I could take, and I had another three to go.

Pressing on, I decided to try to get through the rest of the rule as quickly as possible. 'No clothing should suggest impropriety... Aaagh! ...and skirts should come to no more than... Oooh!...one inch above the kneeeees! Ahh, ahh, aaahhh!'

Lying slumped across the desk, I heard Mr Hardwood stepping away to return that evil piece of wood to its mount. My tender backside felt as if it had been griddled over hot coals and I yearned to reach back and clutch the well-roasted skin, but was afraid to earn more strokes. My tears had dampened the pages of the rule book and I imagined they would dry stiff and crinkly, always falling open to that page in the future.

As Mr Hardwood returned, I felt his cool fingers tracing the thin welts that branded my throbbing butt. This caused the sharp ache to flare, but felt oddly comforting at the same time.

'Beautiful,' he murmured, 'All six exactly parallel, perpendicular to the vertical and no wrapping. You are a very lucky young lady to receive the benefit of my experience.'

I wasn't sure if this statement required a response, but eager to appease him with still more punishment to go, I quickly replied, 'Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir,' which earned me a low chuckle.

'Very good, Ms Kissme. You took the first portion of your punishment very well. I see that you are starting to understand and accept the importance of firm guidance. You may rise and rub if you require. No,' he sternly reprimanded, 'Leave your panties where they are.'

Stiffly, I pushed myself up off the desk and gingerly pressed my palms against my smarting flesh. I could feel the ridges of the welts standing up hotly against my skin and I wondered, not for the first time, if I could possibly survive the remainder of my chastisement. What was I thinking, provoking such a strong and unyielding man such as the Headmaster? I should never have taunted him so brazenly. I only had my wicked thoughts and greedy pussy to blame for my current predicament.

'That will do, Ms Kissme. I believe we have unfinished business, do we not? Back over my desk, quickly now. Remind me, what do you have in store next?' he asked darkly.

'Two... two dozen strokes with the p, paddle, Sir,' I stammered out.

'Ah, yes. Double the strokes you received yesterday, and today over welted flesh. I imagine you are regretting your clothing choice most vehemently around now, aren't you girl?' he chuckled.

'Yes, Sir! I'll never test you again. I really have learned my lesson and my bottom is so very sore already. Please can't we stop now? I'll do anything. Please, Mr Hardwood?' I cried pitifully.

'Oh, no, Ms Kissme. I am a man of my word. When I say a punishment is due, said punishment will be carried out. You do not get to mitigate your strokes just because your recalcitrant bottom is smarting. You have earned this discipline and you will stay in position to recieve the full measure of it. However, I am not without mercy, so I shall allow you a short break after the first dozen. What do say to that, my girl?'

'Thank you, Sir,' I replied miserably. What else could I say? If Mr Hardwood intended on paddling my already-aching, tender backside another twenty-four times, at least I could look forward to rubbing half way through.

I forced myself back down and firmly grasped the edge of the desk.

The first six hard paddle strokes were over the welted skin of my bottom and they stung and burned like crazy. I could not keep still as I wailed and bounced my bottom, waggling it from left to right until Mr Hardwood had to pin me down with a firm hand to the small of my back.

'Easy, girl. Settle down! We need to make sure the paddle beds those raised welts in properly. Now, you remember the drill, up on your toes for the second part of your dozen.'

When he moved the paddle to the tops of my thighs I breathed a sigh of relief as at least they were unmarked by the kiss of the cane. However, when he began again, he seemed to have redoubled his energy and the paddle smacked in to the sensitive skin of my thighs and sit spots like a swarm of hornets.

'Aargh! Oh, oh, Sir! Please! It hurts!' I wailed, trying desperately to relieve the burn without breaking position.

'Good. I'm glad to hear that I am not wasting my valuable time. Now you may have a three minute reprieve before you bend for your next dozen.'

My hands sprang back to clutch, knead and rub my sizzling butt as I staggered to my feet. My knickers had fallen to my ankles with all my squirming, and I looked to Mr Hardwood to see if he would be angry that they hadn't clung resolutely to my knees.

'You may leave your panties there. Such a dirty girl to be at school with her knickers round her ankles!'

My face was tomato red as I saw myself through his eyes. No longer a respected professional educator, but a well chastised little girl who had thoroughly been taken in hand. I felt so small and penitent and I just wanted to get the punishment over so that Mr Hardwood would no longer be disappointed in me.

Without promoting, I bent myself back over his desk. 'Please, Mr Hardwood, may I have the remaining twelve strokes?'

'Of course, Ms Kissme. I am impressed with your attitude. This is much more the level of behaviour I would expect from you,' he said with a new level of warmth and respect in his deep voice.

While he may have been impressed by my fortitude, he certainly didn't let it affect the severely of the final dozen strokes, and by the end I had collapsed, sobbing over his desk.

Once again, Mr Hardwood's big, strong hands rubbed my scarlet cheeks, offering comfort and sparkles of pain in their wake. I sighed as tense muscles started to relax and the pain started to recede.

'That's enough of that, I think. Let us not forget that you are still owed a good, hard over-the-knee spanking,' he said in a kindly voice.

As I started to protest, he shut me down firmly, 'Uh, uh, none of that. You are doing so well, let's not spoil it now. It would be a shame to add more strokes with my paddle when we are so close to the end.'

He pulled out his straight-backed, wooden desk chair and sat down, gently pulling me over his muscular thighs so that my hair brushed the floor to his left and my toes stretched out to his right.

As he laid his palm on my blistered skin I hissed in a breath, 'Hmmm, feeling that, are you Ms Kissme? Well, I expect that you will be feeling it for some time to come, which is the sign of a job well done. Well, let's get this finished then. I was planning on a hard round of fifty spanks, but you have taken your punishment well, so I've a mind to be lenient and commute your sentence to twenty-five. Would you like that, Ms Kissme?' He continued to stroke and caress my glowing orbs, which made it difficult to focus on what was being said.

'Answer me, Ms Kissme!'

'Uh, yes, Sir. Yes, please. I'd like twenty-five spanks please!' What was I saying? How could I be asking for more punishment on my exquisitely sore posterior. I was never going to be able to sit down again. I can't imagine how I was going to drive home today and here I was actively asking politely for twenty-five more spanks. I must be losing my mind.

Instead of starting the spanking, Mr Hardwood continued to stroke and caress my throbbing nether cheeks until the fiery burn turned into a hot glow and the stinging pain morphed into a prickling pleasure that worked its way down from my butt and up from my thighs to congregate in my dripping pussy.

Oh, god, it felt so good. I couldn't stop my hips from rocking and my thighs from parting to encourage Mr Hardwood's ministrations to stray to more needy areas.

I couldn't prevent a low moan from escaping, but it turned into a sharp gasp as the first of twenty-five spanks kissed my scorched skin. It stung, but immediately his hand was back, rubbing away the hurt and stirring up even more sensations as his finger tips got closer and closer to my centre with each gentle rub. I arched my back and thrust my bottom up for more; more spanks, more rubs, just...more. With the next spank, his fingers slipped between my thighs and dipped between my dewy petals. Oh, it felt so good, but not quite where I needed them.