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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(***, M/f, Intense, nc caning)
A girl learns not to insult the royal family. (Approximately 505 words. Originally published 2006-07.)
Jessie hated history more than anything, at least until November 10th. That was the day of her oral presentation on the Royal Family. Mrs. Dankshire was obssessed with the Royals and thought they were wonderful. Jessie thought they were twits.
Of course she'd waited until the last minute to do her prep, and since she dreaded the topic, she didn't use dry textbooks but trashy tabloids which were wonderfully amusing. So she delivered her presentation as though the tabloid rumors were true. The class loved it, of course, laughing hysterically at the outrageous "history" but Mrs. Dankshire's ears grew more and more red.
Jessie was so flattered by the laughing peers that she failed to note her teacher's attitude and when she began a ribald story about an alleged "threesome," Mrs. Dankshire pulled the plug.
"That's enough, Jessie! What utter nonsense. How dare you mock the Royal Family! You've failed this assignment."
It was a slap in the face. Jessie burned. "No way! You can't do that. I did the assignment. Just because you don't like my opinion--"
"The assignment involved you do real research, not invent outrageous lies--"
"Every story was from a publication," countered Jessie. "I didn't make anything up!"
"Sit down. You get a zero on this assignment."
Though she didn't really care about the grade, Jessie knew she needed to pass history if she was to graduate, and the oral presentation was a third of her grade. "That's not fair!"
"You obviously have no respect for the Royal Family, so you'll just have to be content with a zero."
"Well fuck your bloody Royals!"
The moment the words were out Jessie regretted it, but it was too late. Mrs. Dankshire turned three shades of purple, then pointed to the door. "Go see Headmaster Wully and don't come back until your bottom is striped!"
Jessie made a show of storming out, but alone in the corridor, she worried. Caning was permitted by the school charter, though she'd hardly ever heard of anyone being thrashed in modern times. Could the woman have been serious?
Inside Headmaster Wully's office, she tried to explain. "The woman's just batty about the Royals," she confided. "It's not as if they're important or any--"
The look on the man's face told her she'd said the wrong thing.
"Touch your toes," he ordered, bending a long rattan rod into a U-shape.
It was a timid and much chastened Jessie who rapped on Mrs. Dankshire's door fifteen minutes later.
"Is your bottom striped?" asked the woman loudly.
Her face flushed, Jessie tearfully nodded.
Jessie couldn't have been more embarrassed. She stared at the floor as the woman lifted her skirt and pulled her knickers open in back for a peek. Satisfied by the six livid weals spanning both plump cheeks, Mrs. Dankshire gave Jessie a sharp spank and told her to return to her seat.
Thus Jessie learned that some things were even worse than history lessons. Canings, in particular.