Chapter 56

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Another erotic story from the FLOGMASTER!

Copyright 1995-2009 by the Flogmaster. All Rights Reserved. Free distribution via electronic medium (i.e. the internet or electronic BBS) is permitted as long as the text is _not_ modified and this copyright is included, but _no_ other form of publication is allowed without written permission. This document _may_ contain explicit material of an ADULT nature. ***READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!*** Anything offensive is your own problem. This story is for **entertainment** purposes only, and it does _not_ necessarily represent the viewpoint of the author or the electronic source where this was obtained. All characters are *fictional* -- any resemblance to real people is purely coincidental.

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Erin's Adventures
Chapter 56
Back to School

(***, M/F, Severe, Caning, strapping)

Erin goes back to school and makes up for lost time. (Approximately 817 words. Originally published 1998-02.)

Swish-CRACK!

The sound was as familiar as the sharp pain that assaulted my backside. I wasn't surprised by it, but that didn't made it hurt any less. I gritted my teeth and held on for the last three strokes.

"You may rise."

I released my grip of the desk and slowly rose, my skirt tumbling down to cover my stinging rear. Blinking back the tears, I tugged my knickers back up over my buttocks and thanked the professor for his generosity.

"Don't thank me yet," he growled grimly. "You have seven more lessons to make up. I shall expect your essay on Friday morning at eight, and don't be late!"

I groaned as I hurried down the hall. It was barely noon and I'd already endured two canings. And today I still had to meet my maths and World Literature professors.

I gripped a week's worth of maths make-up assignments and rapped on the door of Professor Angler. It was his lunch hour and was eating a sandwich as I entered.

"Put it on the desk," he said, indicating my homework. "Then to the corner with you. I believe you are familiar with the position."

Unfortunately his words were accurate. In the corner I pulled down my knickers and lifted up my skirt, holding it up with both hands behind my back. My scarlet bottom, already well-striped, was on display for Professor Angler. He ignored me, however, studying my assignments as he finished his lunch.

Finally he stood, wiping his mouth with a napkin. He opened a drawer in his desk and took out a heavy leather strap. The end was split into two tails.

"Your work is improving, Erin," he said as he approached me. "Obviously you can perform well when motivated appropriately."

I nodded, shuddering. I wanted him to just get it over with, but Angler's a man obsessed with detail and not easily rushed. He toyed with me, studying the stripes on my rear for a time, and playfully flicking the tawse at my trembling bum.

"Are you ready for your punishment? Eh?"

"Y-yes, sir!"

"It's going to be a good one today, girl. A real good one. You have months of neglect to make up for."

I nodded frantically, wishing he'd hurry.

"Your bottom looks a little sore," he murmured. Then he brightened. "I shall be merciful. Only a dozen on your bottom today. Isn't that generous of me?"

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

"All right. Let's begin."

The strap began to lick at my backside. Every stroke was hard and the twin tails spread to fully cover my cheeks. The pain was staggering. It lacked the focus of the cane but more than made up for it in coverage. My entire arse seemed to burn with an angry rash. I yelped quietly at each stroke and tears dripped down my cheeks. But I knew the worse was yet to come.

When the dozen strokes had been administered, Mr Angler had me turn and stretch out my left leg, placing my foot on a chair. Then he proceeded to lash my inner thigh a half-dozen times. Every stroke had be weeping for mercy and jerking violently. It was vicious, this whipping. Not that harsh but incredibly painful. All I could think about, other than the blinding pain, was that this was only my left leg. I still had the right to go!

Fortunately for my bum, my next meeting wasn't until evening, when I had to meet one of my English professors for a dozen of the cane. It was World Literature, my worst subject, and Mr Lindsey was not impressed with my oral report. For my mistakes he added four strokes to my punishment, and when he graded my essay, he added seven more for spelling errors, and two for bad punctuation. He used his junior cane, and mostly across the backs of my thighs, but still I found it difficult to remain in position for the beating.

The atmosphere of these punishments was far different from the loving, sexual discipline of my beloved Heidi, or the erotically-charged whippings from Domingo. They were so formal and cold and relentless I found they dominated me in ways I had forgotten were possible. They made me feel as helpless as a guilty child. The actual pain was probably less than I'd experienced under Domingo or even Heidi, but the attitude was so opposite that the pain overwhelmed me, and I often broke down and wept like a baby.

Despite my despair at so many beatings, I was grateful to my teachers for allowing me to make up my neglected work. I'd missed so much during my time with Domingo that for a while it had looked like I could not graduate. Now it looked like I would, but at a price.

More to come next week!

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