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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(****, M/F, Severe, Caning)
Erin meets a headmaster. (Approximately 1,917 words. Originally published 1998-02.)
My graduation caning from Heidi was extremely special. She wasn't angry like I had been when I whipped her. She was loving, far too loving, and every cruel stroke was designed to remind me of that fact.
The next day I went through the graduation ceremony in a daze. My parents were there, waving and proud as peacocks, but all I could think about was a beautiful American girl on a lonely airplane, heading for New York. Nothing else seemed real to me.
Things happened quickly after that. My graduation had been so tentative I'd made no plans like the other graduates, who all had jobs awaiting them, so I returned home with my parents. It was strange being in my old room again, being part of a family. It wasn't bad, but I realized with surprise that it felt inappropriate. I was an adult now, ready to move away and be on my own. I resolved to find something quickly.
My opportunity came scarcely a week later. I heard from a contact at the university of a small country school that was desperate for an English teacher. Though I felt woefully inadequate, I had my degree that said I was qualified to teach, and I applied immediately. A week later I found I had been accepted, sight unseen. The school was in a remote location and the position paid very little (no doubt both had been factors in the difficulty of filling the position), but I didn't care. I had money saved from Domingo's paintings -- something I'd kept from my parents -- and I didn't need much. I just wanted to get away, to be on my own, to forget Heidi, school, everything. The concept of starting over fresh, in an anonymous new place appealed to me. The quiet countryside was a delight to my soul. I'd grown weary of the rush and bustle of the big city.
I arrived in town on a Friday and spent the night in a hotel. Saturday I found a small apartment and moved in. Then I visited the school, meeting with the Assistant Headmistress, who took me on a tour of facilities. Indeed it was a small school, with only a few hundred students, but I didn't mind. The school had a summer program of about fifty students, which was why I was required immediately. My teaching duties were to begin on Monday. Fortunately, the previous teacher, Miss Wesley, a sudden stroke victim, had kept meticulous notes and lesson plans. I spent the afternoon going through her work. By the time I'd finished browsing I felt much more confident. At least I had a good starting point; I could fake my way through the rest of it.
Mrs. Dodley, the Assistant Head, popped in about four o'clock. "Oh, good, you're still here," she cried. "The Head would like to see you before you leave. His office is near the main entrance."
"I remember," I nodded. "I be there in a few minutes."
The woman smiled and left, wishing me a good weekend and hoping I would be quickly settled.
I sat and stared at the classroom after she was gone. It felt bizarre to think of it as _my_ classroom, that I was in charge. I didn't feel very different from the little schoolgirl that used to get her bum whacked in a schoolroom just like this one.
With a sigh I picked up my things and straightened my desk. I would take some of this work home with me so I could study it tomorrow and be ready for Monday. The summer program was already two weeks behind schedule because of Miss Wesley's untimely departure. I hurried to meet the Headmaster.
His office was just off the main entrance. Though the school was deserted, I felt a bizarre tremor pass through me as I knocked on the large wooden door. It felt too much like I was a naughty child, sent to the Head for punishment.
The door opened and there stood a young man in formal attire. I blinked in astonishment.
"Ah, you must be Erin O'Grady, the new English teacher. Peggy said you'd be stopping by. Please, come in."
I followed him, my head spinning. He was much younger than I had expected, perhaps in his mid-thirties. He was also extremely handsome, with dark hair and intelligent blue eyes.
"Are you getting settled okay? You have found a place to stay?"
"Uh, oh, yes, sir."
He laughed. "Call me Ron. No need to be so formal. There are no students here."
"Yes, sir," I said quickly. Hot embarrassment flooded my cheeks. "I-I mean -- "
He laughed again, a friendly, non-threatening sound. "I take you aren't used to talking with headmasters as peers?"
I shook my head miserably. I hesitated, looking around the room. "Last time I was in a room like this it was for six-of-the-best across my bare bum," I whispered, my hand retreating to rub my backside nostalgically.
The man's bright eyes narrowed suddenly. "They used the cane at your school?"
"Of course, sir."
"Good. So many schools have gone so modern.... Here at Leevey's we encourage proper discipline. I take it you'd have no problem applying the cane or the slipper to your students?"
My mouth must have gone ajar at that thought, because it had never occurred to me that I, as a teacher, would be allowed to wield the cane. "Uh, I suppose not."
He laughed. "I understand your hesitation. It's hard to know when you've only had experience from the other side. Don't worry. Just be firm and act confident and you'll hold your own."
We spoke for a while, then. The headmaster telling me about various school policies and questioning me on my education, my family, etc. I answered him as best I could, but in truth I had trouble concentrating. Every time he moved I had the wild impression he was rising to fetch a long cane with which to thrash me. Once, when he went to a cabinet for what turned out to be some employment forms for me to fill out, I actually cried out in protest and started to rise from my chair!
"What's the matter?" he asked, turning with the forms in hand.
"Oh, I, uh, nothing," I mumbled, reseating myself. "I'm just nervous, I guess."
"Nothing to be nervous about," he grinned at me. "I know how your first teaching position can feel overwhemling -- I came here straight out of school, just like you. I've been here fourteen years now. Seven years ago I was promoted to Assistant Head, and four years ago I took over from McCauley when he retired. I had business experience, you see. I teach maths when I'm not doing Head stuff."
I grinned shyly at his coy phrasings. "I was always terrible at maths," I muttered. "I suppose that's why I went into English."
We chatted pleasantly a bit more, and then, without any warning at all, Mr Morgan suddenly stood and said, "Well, shall we get your caning out of the way?"
I stared at him, flabbergasted. "You can't be serious!"
He appeared surprised. "Is something the matter?"
"But- but you can't!"
"My dear, all employees have to fill out these forms. It's the law."
Dully reality penetrated my head. "W-what?"
His hand waved the papers. "These forms. We must fill them out."
"Oh, of course."
"Are you certain you're okay?" He put down the papers and approached me, peering at my face. "You seem quite pale."
"No, I'm fine," I said hastily. "I just thought you said -- "
"Thought I said what?"
I shook my head and fell silent. I expected Mr Morgan to move on, but he didn't, waiting patiently for me to answer. As the silence grew, I knew I'd have to explain or he'd think me a total fool, if he didn't anyway.
"I thought -- ", I began, staring at the carpet as I spoke. "I thought you said you were going to cane me."
I waited for the laughter, but there was none. Slowly I looked up. The headmaster was studying me. His eyes were sharp and penetrating and I felt like he could see right through me. He knelt in front of me, his face gentle and kind.
"It's what you want, isn't it, Erin," he whispered. "You came into this room expecting a caning and I haven't given you one."
"No, that's not it at all," I wanted to say, but my mouth was dry. Instead I nodded softly.
Without a word the man turned and headed for a small closet and retrieved a long, slender cane. "Shall we?"
I moved to the desk and assumed the position. I could hardly breath. I didn't understand what was happening or why I was so overwhelmed, but the concept of getting the cane from Mr Morgan took away all my ability to think clearly. "He's going to cane me," I kept thinking. "I'm about to be caned by my new boss."
His hands lifted my skirt and folded it onto my back, tucking it into the waistband to hold it. I could not breathe.
"Yes, sir," I hissed, the intensity of my voice shocking me.
Strong masculine hands tugged at my underwear and in seconds the tiny garment was around my knees, my bottom nude and vulnerable. I could not breathe.
The first stroke was loud like a rifle shot in a small room. It flipped a switch inside me. I felt everything in me building up for a massive release. This was what I had been wanting, I realized with amazement. This was what I had been needing for a very long time.
By the third stroke the pain was flowing through my body with exquisite force, running up and down my spine and all over, wild electric impulses that had me wailing and wiggling.
I cried out on the fourth blow, a low cut across my haunches, but the massive wave of pain flooded to my front side, filling me with irrepressible desire. The fifth blow increased everything to a peak. I was ready to scream when the sixth cut arrived, sharp and cruel across the fullness of my bottom. I prayed it wouldn't be over yet -- I was so close.
Seven came, criss-crossing the other stripes, the pain agonizing and overwhemling. I trembled as my pleasure juices competed against the agony, and slowly the pleasure won. When the eighth stroke arrived I was ready -- I exploded in a deep, soulful cry and fell across the desk in a whimpering collapse, dying shudders violently shaking my body. I felt I could never move again I was so exhausted and spent. Dimly I heard Mr Morgan put away the cane, and then his hands were on my bottom, softly replacing my knickers, rubbing my bum, and pulling down my skirt.
"I think perhaps you should go now, Erin," said the Headmaster.
I nodded, gathering my things and turning to leave. I opened the door and hesitated. I turned back inside. "Sir?"
"Yes?" His face was calm and showed no sign of tremendous emotions hidden underneath.
"Thank you, sir," I whispered. "Thank you."
He smiled, a shy smile of deep pleasure. "You are welcome, Erin. I will see you on Monday."
I left quickly, then, my heart and body aching with unknown longings. But Monday wasn't far away.
More to come next week!