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.
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SSC: Caning Night
(****, M/6f, Intense, caning)
A headmaster loves to cane schoolgirls. (Approximately 512 words. Originally published 2000-06.)
"Okay, ladies, are we all ready for our canings?"
The girls stared at him sickly, struck dumb by his joviality. The smallest one, Elly he thought her name was, looked ready to faint.
This was his favorite part, the thing he always loved. The whackings themselves were wonderful, of course. There was nothing like thrashing a bratty girl's plump bum, turning the smooth milky skin red with juicy weals. But this -- the few moments _before_ the punishment -- this was heaven.
The teacher swelled and marched around the girls like a peacock, his eyes narrowed and glaring, going from one girl to the text, each withdrawing with a shiver of terror.
There were six of them tonight. Delightful. All were dressed in their spotless white gym clothes: plain shirt, snug shorts, long socks, and leather-soled game shoes. Six juicy bums ready for whacking. Six darling faces filled with apprehension and fresh tears.
They waited in silence while he retrieved the long rattan cane. He swished it through the air and bent it, then swished it some more. He could feel the cold terror from the girls. They were in for it, and they knew it.
To keep them in suspense, he began the lecture. He pointed the tip of the cane at Mary Ann. "And what have _you_ learned about going off campus without permission, young lady?"
"It's forbidden, sir," came the frightened, squeaky response.
"And you?" The cane spun to Marla, the oldest. She gulped, pale as her outfit.
"I--I'll never do it again!"
"Of course not. None of you wish to attend another Caning Night."
There were loud cries to the affirmative, and the teacher had no doubt that all were sincere. And that was _before_ they'd tasted his rod.
He studied the girls. He must carefully pick the starter. It wouldn't do to begin with the wimpiest or the toughest, nor the prettiest. Ah! He pointed the cane at Zoe, the quiet one. She looked ready to pee in her shorts, her legs crossed. She was a "virgin," never been caned before. Always good to start with virgins. If you made them wait they lost their nerve and would panic.
Her bum was on the skinny side, narrow with no real definition to the hips. But the cheeks were plump and he was amused to note a section of her shorts had disappeared into her crack. Her backside would take the cane sweetly.
The first stroke sounded like a pistol shot in a silent library. It stunned everyone, but poor Zoe the most. She half-rose, tapdancing, her hands flashing back to her bum in desperate agony. The sounds from her throat were almost unnatural.
He'd laid on the first stroke well, full across the twin cheeks, using the tip of the rod to gain maximum leverage.
"Back in position," he said coldly, the chill in his voice thrilling him.
She had no idea the delights her agony brought him, did she. Oh well. Her loss, his gain. God he loved caning nights!