A Dar(l)ing Brat

Rate This Story:

Another erotic story from the FLOGMASTER!

Copyright 1985-2016 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.

Purchase this story in print form!


Don't like reading on screen? This story is available in print form in Ultimate Archive: Volume 1 at the Flogmaster's Bookstore. Purchase your copy today to encourage the Flogmaster to write more cool stories.

A Dar(l)ing Brat

(****, M/ff, Intense, nc schoolgirl slippering and caning)

A schoolgirl who thinks spankings don't hurt finds out otherwise. (Approximately 1,417 words. Originally published 2003-12.)

The class had gone still at my words: "Do you wish a taste of the slipper, girl?"

Pretty Miss Darlene Mandrake stared straight in front of her and shook her head. "No, sir."

"Then why are you whispering to Miss Denise?" I said, towering over the girl. She looked so cute in her burgundy and green uniform, all prim and proper, nothing outwardly showing what a silly brat she was.

"She asked to borrow a pencil, sir. I was just responding to her."

"You couldn't just hand her a pencil or shake your head no without opening your trap?"

"I'm sorry, sir."

"Not yet, I think. Front and center." There was a collective gasp from the class and Miss Darlene went pink.

"Please, sir," she whispered desperately. Oh, she hated being spanked, this one. Delightful. No wonder I spanked her so frequently.

I didn't even bother to answer; I simply waited.

Slowly, with dignity, she rose and walked to the front of the classroom. I followed, mimicking her pace. I was in no hurry. At my nod, she fetched the slipper hanging on the hook by the door. No doubt the nearby presence of the slender cane and leather strap gave her pause.

Miss Darlene was a lovely girl, slender and innocent, yet blossoming with womanhood. Traditionally I slipper over the skirt, but I decided to make an exception this time.

"This is your fourth slippering this month, Miss Darlene," I scolded. "I think perhaps I have gone too easy on you."

"Oh, no sir!"

"Remove your skirt, please."

Miss Darlene's pale cheeks went ruby, but she knew better than to disobey. She slowly began to unwrap her skirt. At my previous school the uniforms were more flexible and a girl's skirt could be raised to expose her bottom, but here at St. Anne's, the skirts were long and conservative, and too tight to be lifted.

She didn't simply toss her skirt aside, but folded it carefully and set it on my desk. Obviously she was experienced at receiving discipline, though she abhorred the process. Her panties were technically regulation: full-cut white cotton, but I saw she'd cleverly chosen them a size or two too small, so they didn't quite cover her buttocks as intended, and they clung the cheeks tightly. Her loss, my gain.

I gripped the slipper tightly and Miss Darlene bent over and grabbed her ankles. It was a delight to spank such a well-mannered and obedient girl. The first wallop caught her plump left cheek heavily and she grunted, but didn't move. I gave her two more on her left, then three to her right. By that time she was floundering a bit, wiggling her bum and making strange guttural sounds.

I knew she figured it was over, but I wasn't at all finished. I hadn't struck her very hard, merely solidly, and I hoped she felt she was getting off easy. I repeated the dosage, three to each cheek with the same moderate force, and she was squirming nicely. Her bottom had to be nice and warm now. Time to give her some rope to hang herself with.

"Stand up," I said loudly, "I bet that has taught you a harsh lesson young lady!" Of course it had done nothing of the kind -- it was merely humiliating to the young girl to be spanked in front of her classmates -- but I had a plan.

I turned away and walked around the rest of the classroom, patting the sole of the slipper against my palm. Everyone was tense, many eyes watching me with wide, terrified eyes. Of course my eyes were on Miss Darlene, waiting for that inevitable gesture of contempt at my discipline.

She didn't disappoint me. Scarcely had by back been turned when she winked at her friend Miss Denise and gave the class her raised eyebrows, twirling her finger in the air, implying that the punishment had been nothing significant.

I whirled on her. "Miss Darlene!" I shouted. "How dare you make rude gestures!"

"Oh! No, sir, I was just scratching my nose, sir. I had an itch. Honest!"

But I was bearing down on her like a charging rhino, the ominous slipper raised. She winced and turned away, facing the front.

"In position!" I said, and bent over, offering me her delightful bum. I spanked her harder this time, six to each cheek, and then, after a pause, six more to each.

Miss Darlene was obviously in pain, eyes brimming with tears and buttocks wiggling frantically, but she said nothing.

"Put this back," I said, handing her the slipper. Relief flooded her face and she hurried to do as I commanded. I watched her round bottom bounce as she trotted to the far wall and hung up the slipper. I couldn't resist. I waited until she was back and reaching for her skirt.

"Fetch the cane."

The class was so quiet one could almost hear the beating of two dozen hearts. Miss Darlene, pale and in shock, trembled. "Oh, but sir, I..." Her voice drifted off. She knew there was nothing she could say. She solemnly turned and headed for the punishment rod, and I was treated with another sight of her wobbling bottom.

The cane is a fierce instrument, and thus I use it rarely, but Miss Darlene has felt it on several occasions from me, though up to now, always in private, after class.

When Miss Darlene was in position, I carefully helped her panties down to her knees. She was terrified and embarrassed, of course, but there was nothing she could do. I always cane on the bare buttocks: not only because I enjoy seeing the marks, but because it's safer for the participant, as it's easier to judge the severity.

Miss Darlene has a lovely rump, with two extremely round, well-defined cheeks. When she bends over, they bulge out at you almost impudently, daring you to smack them. Her bottom was a nice pink from her slippering, in ideal condition for a good thrashing.

She took the first couple of strokes very well, scarcely making a sound or moving, but after the third she audibly groaned and I could see her buttocks tensing and relaxing as she fought against the pain. She was also shifting her weight from side to side which made her ass wobble nicely.

I paused at that point to catch my breath and relax. It's always best not to rush a punishment.

I admired the beautiful weals. There were two semi-parallel red marks across middle of her butt. The first was high, across the summit of her cheeks, the second mid-way down, across the deepest bulge. The third stroke had gone slightly awry, and explained the girl's reaction. The tip of the cane had gone down, drawing a nearly vertical mark into the girl's right cheek and thigh. The tip had dug in deep, for the mark was a deep crimson, almost purple. It crossed the juncture of buttock and thigh and I knew that weal would give her difficulty sitting for days. The corresponding mark on the other side was barely visible and only a couple inches long.

I swapped sides for the next three, swinging from her right side, making sure her left cheek was as marked as her right. I attempted to duplicate the off stroke of her right cheek, but failed, merely landing a horizontal stripe across her upper thigh. It certainly hurt, however, for she yelped and raised up, thrashing her head back and forth in agony.

I made her go stand in the corner after that, with her panties down so the class could learn from her striped bottom. For good measure and for fairness, I called Miss Denise to the front and gave her six strokes to each cheek with the slipper over her skirt. She was a generally well-behaved girl who usually suffered from her association with Miss Darlene. She was a thin, almost scrawny girl who hadn't developed yet, and I didn't bother baring her bottom, but simply spanked her and sent her back to her seat.

Miss Darlene I asked to come see me after school for some "further education." You should have seen her face at those words. She mumbled a "Yes sir" as she put her skirt back on and then ran off with the other girls, anxious to escape the horrible teacher. Sometimes I just love my job a little too much!

The End

Rate This Story: