The Girls College Ch. 08

Brooke Johnson was a beautiful woman. Her face was pretty and she had long, soft blonde hair that was propped up into a very tight bun. She had large breasts, yet a thin waistline. Her firm bottom was covered by a black Ponte-knit pencil skirt that stopped just above her knees. Sheer, glossy pantyhose matched her milky skin tone and ran down to her feet, dressed in black round toe shoes with three inch platform wedge heels.

Her look was the epitome of classy, it echoed her personality perfectly. She had previously been head girl of the College, only five years ago. Brooke was well-respected among the other personnel in the school, even at her young age. Some of the personnel even feared her, knowing she was one of the strictest disciplinarians working there. Many teachers had feared her during her years as a student, there were many rumours of things that she did to teachers she fell out with, such as take the sixty year-old Miss Elizabeth Stewart across her lap and spanking her bare bottom until she cried like a little girl, or the rumours of her cruel treatment of Miss Courtney Bennett, her history teacher, whom she apparently used as a sex slave for two years after a heated argument in Miss Bennett's classroom.

Brooke was homosexual, as expected from personnel at the College, but over the school holidays her favourite hobby was to play with her twin brother. From a very young age she had been dominant over her brother, and it was encouraged heavily by her single mother. This had taught her from a young age that boys were below girls. Women were more powerful and intelligent, men were nothing but scum. She placed herself in especially high regard; she knew she was superior even to most women. There were very few ladies that she placed in higher regard than herself, one of them being Headmistress Vanessa Smith

The flat bottoms of her wedges made loud clicking sounds as she walked through the silent halls of the College, it was eight in the morning and half an hour before her first appointment of the day with the new boy in the College, Paul Edwards. She reached into her black handbag to retrieve the key to her office, which she inserted into the keyhole to unlock it. The door was pushed open and the ceiling light was flicked on before her bottom graced the soft leather of the office chair. She reached into her handbag once more, this time pulling out a yellow file.

Brooke kicked her feet up onto her desk as she opened the file to read it. Paul Edwards stood in large letters at the top of the first page, with a small picture of the boy's face below it. His fragile brown eyes and haircut reminded her of her own brother, so frail and weak. As she reached Miss Ellie Finch's page containing the boy's body measurements, she smirked to herself as she spotted the length of his penis.

She paid great attention to every little personal detail of the boy, pinpointing things that she could use to her advantage during their meeting. She took a pen from the top drawer of her desk and scribbled down a few notes.

*****

A little while passed before there was a firm knock on the door. Brooke glanced up and called the knocker in. Through the door emerged Jessica Lewis, dressed in her school uniform. Behind her was Paul Edwards, the boy whose file she had just been examining. He was fully nude and looked discouraged, his face was bright red.

"Thank you, Jessica," she said. "You can just leave him here; close the door behind you please."

"My pleasure, Miss," replied the brunette girl in the light blue dress and Mary Jane school shoes, before turning around and pulling the boy through the doorway by the shoulder, shoving him forward. She exited the room and closed the door behind her.

Paul stood in the middle of the small office now, his hands covering his bare genitals. The woman at the desk didn't look up at him; she continued to write down a few notes. She looked up at him and their eyes met. He looked a lot more like her twin brother than she initially thought. His height, body shape and face reminded her so much of him, she looked forward to the start of their session.

Still without a word Brooke got up from her comfortable leather chair and walked around the desk. She stopped when she was right in front of the boy.

"You know what to do," she said simply. He slowly crouched down and went onto his knees, bending down in front of the beautiful young woman. She looked down at him as he placed a kiss on the toes of both her shoes.

She turned around as he got up and walked back to her chair, which she sat down in and flattened her skirt under her bottom.

"You're here so that I can work out what subjects you should be taking during your stay at the college," she said. "Boys don't get to choose their subjects, I have to put you through a few tests first and then I can work out the subjects that would best suit you. These tests are rather unconventional and might be a bit taxing on your mental and physical stamina, but as long as you obey my commands and co-operate with them, which I'll make sure of, you'll have the ideal set of classes come the start of the school year."

Brooke turned a page in the file. It almost felt tense in the room; the constant silences that filled it made it feel like there was tension. She was quiet for a little while, Paul just stood there, looking at her.

"I trust you haven't had a meal since lunch yesterday, correct?" she asked him.

"Yes, Miss," he replied honestly.

"And you were thoroughly cleaned out after your meal? The matrons gave you an enema?"

"Yes, Miss," answered Paul, remembering the horrible experience he had been through the previous afternoon in the hostel's bathroom. "I had two enemas, Miss."

"Excellent," she said, raising her eyebrows, but still looking down at the file. "You had a shower this morning?"

"Yes, Miss,"

She stood up from the chair and looked at him.

"Sit down, boy," she said strictly, and watched as the boy slowly edged forward and pulled back the chair in front of her desk. "No, no, no. You don't sit on that chair with your bare bottom, take the chair in the corner, and bring it over."

Paul pushed the chair back to its original position, slowly and silently. He walked to the back corner of the room, where there was a low steel chair with a plastic seat and plastic backrest. It looked like something you would find in a primary school classroom. Nonetheless he picked it up and carried it by the flat backrest to the desk, where he placed it down next to the leather chair he had previously meant to sit on. He slowly lowered his bottom onto the seat and sat down, his shoulders barely above the top of the high desk. Miss Johnson smirked.

"That's better," she said, looking down at him from her high leather chair, like a queen on her throne looking down at one of her servants. Her hand reached for the second drawer in her desk. It was slowly slid open and she took a beige folder from it. From inside she pulled a white sheet of paper with three squares printed on it. She placed it down in front of Paul so that it was facing him. He looked down at the sheet.

On the three squares that were printed on the sheet were three different items. The first contained a wooden paddle, similar to the one that the Headmistress had used on his bottom the previous day. On the second was a brown leather strap, it was long, almost like a belt. The final square contained a shoe; it was a red flat which had clearly been worn regularly.

"Okay, Paul," started Miss Johnson. "I want you to look at these and imagine that you were bent over my knee, receiving a thorough spanking with one of them. I want you to think about it first, take as long as you want, and tell me which one you think would hurt the most. Think carefully, we have a lot of time."

He looked down at the sheet and did exactly what the woman told him. Imagining a spanking by each of the items, he placed his right index finger on the leather strap. She nodded.

"Now, which one would you choose if I let you pick the one to hit you with, dear?"

He immediately placed his finger on the shoe.

"Very good. I think I can take you to the back now, follow me," said Miss Johnson, slowly getting up from her chair as she slid the sheet back into the folder. She turned on her heels and walked to the door in the back corner of the room. Paul slowly got up from his chair and lumbered along behind her. The door was opened and she pushed it to open it.

Paul entered the dark, cold room behind her. It sent shivers down his spine as the cool air hit his naked body. The hard concrete floor was very cold against his soles. His hands were still covering his manhood. Miss Johnson flicked a switch and a light hanging from the ceiling flickered on. He looked to his left and saw a terrifying sight.

Along the wall to his left side was an intimidating wooden bench and next to it a tall wooden table. The wall that connected to this wall was a large steel board with several hooks, each one with a disciplinary instrument hanging from it. Paddles, straps, crops, whips. He gulped loudly as Brooke closed the door behind him.

"Now, sweetie, I don't want you to be too intimidated," said Miss Johnson, now stood in front of him. Her tone was falsely sweet. "I know this all looks a bit scary, and you will be put in a position of discomfort today, but it's all just to better your education at the end of the day, alright?"

He just nodded at her. His eyes were huge and he was visibly terrified. Miss Johnson just smiled at him before turning and walking to the wall of scary instruments. Below it was a small chest of drawers. She slid open the top drawer and shoved her hand inside.

"I want you to open the wardrobe to your right, sweetie," she said, taking a little silver packet from the drawer and tearing it open. Paul looked at the silver packet first before slowly turning to his right and walking to the wardrobe. His hand slowly rose to the handle, which he turned and opened the door. Inside of the wardrobe were several black bags on hangers, all seemingly containing jackets or dresses. "Open the drawer at the bottom and pick out your favourite pair for me."

His eyes wandered down and saw the drawer she was talking about. He had to bend down slightly as he opened it. Inside of the drawer were several pairs of silk girls' panties. There were many colours to choose from, and Paul stood looking at them completely motionless.

"I'd guess you're a medium if you're struggling with size," she commented from behind him, she was on the other side of the room.

He reluctantly reached forward into the drawer and took a pair of white panties from it. He checked inside the strap to make sure it was the size that Miss Johnson had said, and he sighed before lifting up his right leg to step into the panties. His other leg followed and he pulled up the underwear slowly.

The boy slowly turned around and saw Miss Johnson sitting on a wooden chair, one leg crossed over the other. She was smiling at him, almost invitingly. Her manicured fingers summoned him to her. He slowly lumbered over to her, their eyes bolted to each other's in a near painful stare. The silk panties that sat tightly against his firm bottom and wrapped around his small penis felt nice, although they were a bit tight. He hadn't worn any clothes in nearly two days; any coverage was nice, although he doubted it would last for much longer.

As he reached the woman on the other side of the room, she reached out to his silk-encased penis. She ran her manicured index finger up and down his stubby shaft that created an unimpressive tent in the thin panties. It was a pleasurable sensation, but he refused to give into it.

"Does that feel good, sweetie?" she asked before giggling sweetly, he simply nodded. Unimpressed the lady smacked his scrotum softly. It didn't hurt much, but still made Paul groan. "Speak when you're spoken to, dear."

"Yes, Miss," he stuttered, quickly regaining his posture. He continued to blankly stare over her head as she traced her nail up and down his penis.

"Very good," she cooed. "Now, I'll continue to do this as I explain what's going to be happening today since you seem to like it so much."

He gulped.

"Boys at the College aren't allowed to choose their own academic subjects, because as we all know men shouldn't be allowed to make such important decisions," she explained, matter-of-factly, her finger ever slowly exploring Paul's sex through the white silk panties.

"Unless you want absolute chaos, that is. It's much better, yet a tad more work, to let a lady do it. Now, you might object to this, which is completely understandable, since your brain is still wired to think that men are superior to women. This mentality will soon be overturned, every time you eat a meal off a lady's feet, every time the Headmistress bends you over her desk and spanks you, every time a lady makes fun of your little willy, you are put in your place and slowly your brain starts to rewire. When you leave this college in four years, you'll be the perfect man,"

"The man you will be made into might not currently be your idea of a perfect man, but soon you'll realize this idea you have of a perfect male is completely wrong. Ladies don't want big, muscular, strong men. They're not interested in men that tower over them, that take the wheel in the relationship, that treat them like an object. A real lady wants a man who they can order around, who they can take control of. They want a man that serves them, that treats them like a queen every second of every day. Women are more intelligent, more beautiful, more controlled. Everything a man can never be. So, at the end of the day, this is all for your own good. Do you understand that?"

"Yes, Miss," he answered. His tone wasn't convincing, but she didn't care.

"Each of the instructors at the College is required to have their own method of disciplining students," she started explaining once more. "There aren't any limits to what they can do to a boy for a disciplinary action, as long as they don't kill you. I will be subjecting you to a few of these methods today, and evaluating your reaction to them. You will be experiencing a lot of discomfort at times, and I want you to tell me whenever you feel like you can't take any more,"

"I'll start by having you lay across my lap and just simply spanking you with my bare palm. So, go on, assume the position."

He sighed and closed his eyes for a moment, before slowly walking to the lady's side and bending forward. She guided his body with her soft hands so that he was bent across her lap, his panty-covered bottom presented to her. Miss Johnson was surprised to see how feminine his rear end was, his bum could pass for a lady's even if it wasn't covered in thin silk panties. Her fingers quickly guided the panties down a bit, exposing his round bottom. She could feel his little willy, which was still inside of the panties, rub against her right leg.

"I will be delivering sixty strikes to your bottom with the palm of my hand," said Miss Johnson. "I will be starting less aggressively, the hits will be more spaced out and softer, and they will become more aggressive after twenty and then the most aggressive after forty. You are allowed to react just as you please, I won't mind tears or screaming. However, squirming around and covering your bum with your hands will result in more strikes."

She gave him a few seconds to relax, telling him not to tense up his bottom as she hit him. Unexpectedly, she started.

Smack! Smack! Smack!

He hissed in pain, even though she had said that she was being less aggressive, her hits were still very hard and accurate.

Smack! Smack! Smack!

His breaths became deeper as her hits rhythmically hit his bottom. She switched between his left and right buttocks with each hit, and he wasn't looking forward to the last two thirds of this exercise.

Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!

Halfway through the first set.

Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!

His rear end was starting to burn now, but she was relentless. The next ten hits were even harder, and he felt tears begin to form in the corners of his eyes. He was no stranger to being bent over the lap of a woman that was hitting him; Matron Sophia had beaten him as often as she could when he was in the orphanage. He was used to being hit with a belt though; he thought a bare hand would be child's play. Oh, how mistaken he was.

"That's twenty," announced Miss Johnson, starting to rub her palm across Paul's burning bum. He hissed at her, but tried his best not to squirm.

She restarted her assault on his buttocks with harder strikes, Paul immediately realised the difference. Halfway through the second set of twenty the tears in the corners of his eyes started to run down his soft cheeks. He groaned, his bottom felt like it was on fire now.

Smack! Smack! Smack!

She could hear him sobbing now, but she didn't stop. He'd taken it rather well so far, but he was barely past halfway. Miss Johnson was ridiculously accurate, she continued to hit the exact same spots on his buttocks as she switched between left and right with each hard slap. The loud strikes filled the room, accompanied by Paul's soft sobbing.

The last few smacks were delivered and she finished the second set of twenty. However, this time she didn't stop hitting him.

"Almost done, dear," is all she said as she continued to hit him, even harder and even faster. Her hand was hitting him more than once a second now, not to mention that the strikes were being delivered with a great force. "Deep breaths now."

Smack!

Five more, his breathing had turned into panting throughout his loud screams.

Smack!

It took a great amount of effort to stay still, he wasn't sure if he'd make it.

Smack!

Almost finished, his eyes were now filled with tears as they flowed down his round cheeks and fell onto the concrete floor.

Smack!

Just two to go, the pain was unbearable.

Smack!

A loud high-pitched scream echoed through the room, Paul couldn't take it any more.

Smack!

The last strike couldn't come any faster, and Paul continued to cry loudly as Miss Brooke smirked down at the boy's bright red buttocks that were over her lap. He screamed again as she pinched his right buttock.

"Don't make such a fuss; we're just getting started,"

"Miss, please! I can't- I can't take more!"

"Unfortunately you can't decide when we stop, Paul, that's my job,"

She forced him off her lap and he rolled off, hitting the concrete floor hard. His face was bright red and his eyes swollen from the tears that were cascading from them. He screamed again as he fell onto the ground, clutching the arm he had fallen on.

"Get up!" she commanded, and the sobbing young man reluctantly struggled to his feet. He looked at her through his tear-ridden eyes as she got up from the wooden chair and walked quickly to the wardrobe he had taken his panties from before. The doors were pulled open and she bent down to take a pair of shoes, size six red flats. She threw them at Paul, who stepped out of the way so that they didn't hit him. "Put them on."

He looked down at the shoes that had been thrown his way. They were red women's ballet flats. Tears were still slowly falling down his cheeks as he sighed and slipped his feet into the shoes. They were a very tight fit, and he looked down at his little feet that were now dressed in women's shoes. It was embarrassing to wear them, but nowhere near to the extent of wearing women's underwear.

She sat back down on the wooden chair, looking up at the boy in front of her.

"Does it humiliate you to stand in front of a beautiful woman like myself in ladies' clothing?" asked Miss Johnson, crossing her arms as she looked into the eyes of her subject.