The Teacher

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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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The Teacher

(****, F/M, Severe, consensual)

A widow and widower discover a new and profound friendship in a rather unusual manner. (Approximately 2,875 words. Originally published 1996-01.)

Mrs. Audrey Abrahms gave a deep sigh and collapsed into her chair. For a few minutes she did not move but lay with her head on the desk on her hands and wondered why her life was in such chaos. It helped, but only a little. When she raised her head and looked around she was still in the same dull fourth grade classroom, rows of empty desks staring threateningly at her, the far wall covered with a large hand-drawn map of the world only half-done, part of an on-going project her kids were working on.

At least the day was over. She could go home now, go home to her lonely, empty house, feed Diamonds, and watch _Jeopardy_ while she ate a nice salad. The thought of her cat perked her up momentarily but she knew with a dismal depression that he was likely to be out roaming the fields. It was fall and he was still on his summer schedule, staying out late, rarely coming home before dark. For some reason the very idea that her cat provided her with her main motivation to return home at night filled Audrey with a renewed sense of depression.

She stood up and decided to ignore the papers on her desk. She could grade them tomorrow. The kids wouldn't care. No one cared. No one even noticed, really. She could probably announce tomorrow that she was going to stop giving out grades all together and there would be little reaction from either parents or kids. Ah, life in the 90s--isn't it grand.

Audrey took her purse from the bottom drawer of her desk and checked its contents, making sure she hadn't forgot anything. She put on her coat and thought of the long walk home. Her car was in the shop again. It seemed to spend more time there than on the road, she thought with a grimace. Probably cost her another couple hundred bucks, too.

She sighed. Ever since James had passed on her life had gone down the tubes. Fifty was approaching and she had nothing to look forward to in life but feeding her cat and watching her near thirty years of dedicated teaching be washed away by MTV and video games.

A sudden rapping sound made Audrey pause, heart thumping in alarm at the unexpectedness of the knock, one arm in her coat. "Come in," she called out. The door opened and in stepped a very tall man. He was in his fifties, hair with slight flecks of gray. His jaw was hard and his eyes a pale blue that looked rather old and tired. His body was graying; the body of a man who had once been extremely physically fit, very muscular and beefy, but now was sagging and developing a pot belly. He still seemed fit, however, and healthy, and his slacks and sweater fit him neatly, but there was something about him that instantly reminded Audrey of a retired race horse left out to pasture. He looked tired.

His shy smile was rather friendly, though, and Audrey smiled back. She recognized him instantly, of course, having met him just a few weeks earlier at the parent-teacher conference. "Mr. Van Horn," she said formally, holding out her hand in greeting. "Please, come in, come in."

She was all pleasantness now, her saccharin smile making her own stomach turn. Inside she was seething. She knew what this was amount. Johnny Van Horn was in her class. Today he had gotten into a scuffle with another boy, called him rude names, and even slapped him. Mrs. Abrahms had taken immediate action, bringing Johnny to the front of the room and paddling him soundly. No doubt Mr. Van Horn was here to complain. This irritated the teacher to no end. So few parents these days knew how to discipline their children properly!

"What can I do for you, Mr. Van Horn?" she said with her most innocent expression.

"Uh, I'm sorry to bother you, Mrs. Abrahms. I see you were getting ready to leave. Is this a bad time?"

"Oh, no. I was just a little tired so I thought I'd go home early tonight. What's on your mind?" She took off the coat and placed it over the back of her chair and sat down. Mr. Van Horn sat on one of the student's desks across from her.

"Well, it's about what happened in school today, Mrs. Abrahms."

Audrey smiled at the man. "Call me Audrey. I get enough Mrs. Abrahms from my kids."

The man smiled, a shy, soft smile and his eyes shifted away as though he was embarrassed by his smiling. "All right, Mrs., er, Audrey." He took a deep breath. "You spanked my son today, Audrey. In front of the whole class."

The woman crossed her hands in front of her chest and though inwardly she seethed, she made her voice calm and firm. "Yes I did."

"Could--could you show me _exactly_ what you did?"

"Well, I made him come up here to my desk. I made him pull down his jeans so only his underwear covered him. I sat in my chair, here, and pulled him across my lap. Then I took down his underpants and paddled his bare bottom with this--" Audrey took out the small wooden paddle from the top drawer of her desk. It was thin and lightweight but gave a good sting; few of her students returned for a second helping very soon after tasting its charms.

"Ah," said Mr. Van Horn. He took the paddle in his hand and felt bolts of electricity shooting up his arm and down his spine, stopping at his butt. He closed his eyes. He could almost see Caroline now, her slim, tiny body at the top of the stairs, the wooden paddle in one hand tapping the other as she ordered him up the stairs. "Hurry up, young man! Delaying will only make it worse!"

A deep shiver passed through the big man. He opened his eyes. The teacher was looking at him with a puzzled expression and he found himself blushing, staring at the tiled floor and wondering how in the world he was going to go through with this. But when Johnny had described his spanking today--and Jim had made certain that the boy told him every detail--he knew he had to come and meet this teacher himself.

He remembered her from the conference a few weeks earlier. A widow, he knew, she was approaching fifty. Her once-blond hair was turning platinum and her body was just beginning to sag in places. She was a small woman, at least compared to himself. Her face was pleasant, especially when she smiled. Her eyes were a bright blue, alert and intelligent. She was quite vivid, filled with repressed energy and, he suspected, a deep passion which her reserved personality kept hidden.

He gave the lady his best smile. "Could you show me?"

The woman looked startled. "Show you?"

"Yes. Treat me exactly like you did my son. Spank me like you did him. I want to know exactly what you did to him."

The woman's face was swimming with emotions: fear, surprise, concern, excitement, and puzzlement. "Let me get this straight: you want me to take you across my lap and paddle you the way I did your son?"

"Yes."

"But why?"

"I need to know what he went through. How else can I judge whether or not you punished him adequately?"

"I reduced him to tears."

"Perhaps he was only pretending."

The woman shook her head proudly. "No one _pretends_ to cry at one of _my_ spankings."

The man shrugged. "I need to know. Will you do it?"

"You are a grown man. It's rather awkward."

"Just pretend I am a little boy," said the man softly, his voice low and urgent. Something clicked inside the woman and she nodded, though the logical part of her mind was telling her this did not make any sense. She ignored the alarms and pulled her chair away from her desk.

"All right, then. Come over and stand beside me." She paused then as she realized what was next. Her eyes went upward and met the man's and there were sparks of fire and she looked away, her heart thumping wildly in her chest. "This can't be happening!" she thought with real terror. "I'm too old. I'm not a silly teenager!"

But the man was already unbuttoning his pants and sliding them down. She could not help but see his white Hanes underwear out of the corner of her eye, a huge bulge at the crotch that not only astonished her but brought to life a sudden stirring between her legs. She had not felt like this in years. Her palms sweated as she licked her lips and picked up the paddle off the desk to disguise her reactions.

"Now over my lap!" she ordered sternly, wondering if he could hear it in her voice. The man obeyed immediately, carefully leaning across her lap and placing his hands on the floor on her other side. He relaxed finally, his weight pressing against her, as she could feel the odd bulk between his legs between her thighs. His large bottom was position just past her right thigh. His underpants were tight and hid little from her. Her head spun and she found it difficult to breathe. There was a pulsing between her legs and she was positive there was dampness there.

To calm herself she spoke to the man in her most formal voice. "Are you sure you want me to do this, Mr. Van Horn? Shall I give you a few swats right now just to show you what you are asking for?"

The man grunted and nodded. When he spoke his voice was sudden and explosive, as though he was in the midst of a strenuous struggle. "Yes, please!"

Without further ado the woman walloped the man's butt with the paddle as hard as she could, much harder than she had struck little Johnny. The man grunted but did not speak. She gave him another, and then another. Still no reaction. She gave him a smart series of three, and then a series of five. That started him wiggling and a slight moan came from between his clenched lips.

"Please, begin it now," he whispered urgently, and the woman understood what he meant.

"Up!" she ordered tapping his bottom with the paddle. He raised himself up slightly and she took the elastic band of his underwear in her hands and pulled downward, struggling slightly over the awkward bulge she could still feel touching her leg. She was glad she was wearing a long dress. He was definitely erect! As he settled back down she could feel his manhood pressed against her even more and she blushed furiously, glad his face was pointed toward the tiled floor and he couldn't see her.

Soon the underpants were down by his knees and Audrey saw for the first time Mr. Van Horn's naked buttocks. They were beautiful, she thought. Firm and round and smooth. They were already just a slight shade of pink in places, but now she could see she hadn't been spanking him very thoroughly--she'd missed quite a few spots.

"Are you ready for your spanking, Mr. Van Horn?"

"Please call me Jim," he grunted, and an electric pulse shot through Audrey's body, culminating in a spurt from between her legs. James had been her husband's name.

"Alright, Jim, are you ready for your spanking?"

"Yes, ma'am!"

"Good. Now this is going to go on until I see tears, Jim, real tears, not pretend ones. Do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am!"

Audrey lifted the paddle and brought it down as hard as she could. "Oooouch!" exclaimed the man with a deep expiration of breath. "That really hurt!"

"It's supposed to hurt. That's why they call it a spanking. Now keep quiet, you naughty boy!" The man closed his mouth as the paddle walloped him again and again. He wiggled and moaned and tears came to his eyes. This woman really came down hard! It took a lot to make Jim Van Horn cry but here he was already tearing and the spanking was just beginning.

As the paddle came down harder and faster and Jim felt that flowing warmth from his backside he closed his eyes and thought of Caroline, his beloved wife. Gone six years now but he still missed her. This was what he missed most--her ability to give him just what he needed when he needed it. And boy, did he need this now!

The pain flooded through him and he groaned, arching his back and thrusting his bottom upward. His cock was swollen and hard and he knew that the teacher could not help but feel it poking awkwardly into her thigh, but that humiliation seemed distant and minor. He began to cry, real man-sized tears, and watched them splash onto the floor beneath his face. He cried for Caroline, he cried for his son Johnny, and he cried for Mrs. Audrey Abrahms, a fine lady who knew how to handle a wooden paddle with astonishing fortitude. And he cried for himself, a lonely, older man, who just wanted a woman who could hug him and spank him soundly every now and then, let him know that he was loved and cherished and that nothing he did could tear them apart.

No guilt. That's what he missed most. With Caroline there had never been any guilt. Until she left, of course. He knew the cancer had not been his fault; it had absolutely nothing to do with him. But a part of him still felt responsible, and only now, years later, as he lay across the lap of this fourth grade teacher and got his bottom soundly blistered did he begin to feel that guilt go away, draining like it was suddenly unclogged and free. He wept and his body shook thunderously with his sobs.

"Oh, please!" he gasped and as he slowly began to realize his surroundings he knew that the spanking had stopped, had in fact been stopped for quite some time, and when he got awkwardly to his feet, his face red and stained with tears, his eyes met those of the teacher, and he saw that she too was crying. Without thinking his hand reached out and wiped away her tears and kissed her cheek softly. She looked up at him with real emotion on her face, her chest heaving and she shook her head as more and more tears poured down her face.

"Oh, God, please!" she moaned and dropping the paddle on the floor she covered her face with her hands. "It's been so long..."

"I know, I know," whispered the man, pulling her against his side. "For me, too. When I first saw you I thought you looked so strong, so in control. But then I saw that it was just an act--inside you were as lonely and empty as I was."

"Is this real, then?" asked the lady, her eyes bright with fear.

"It is real," he whispered.

For a long time the couple just stood there. The man's underpants and slacks were curled around his ankles, his naked bottom almost purple with blisters and welts, and she had her face buried in his belly, her arms encircling him as she sobbed openly for several minutes.

When Audrey finally came to her senses and pulled away from the man their eyes met for a second and then she caught sight of his enormous penis just inches from her face and she gasped and looked away. He hastily bent and pulled his pants up and dressed himself, wincing as his underpants brushed against his tender bottom. She giggled suddenly, and then began to laugh.

"What's so funny," he finally asked, his voice nervous. She giggled again and pointed at the lap of her dress. The man blushed with embarrassment at the white blotch of cream that marked her dress. "I'm sorry," he said quickly.

"It's a wonderful gift," she said with a touch of awe in her voice. "I never thought I'd see such a gift again."

"Oh."

Audrey's eyes lit up and she gave him a mischievous grin. "Could you give me another?" Jim's eyes went wide with surprise and pleasure. "I think that can be arranged."

Beaming, the woman stood and took up her purse and coat. "Give me a ride to my house," she said firmly, "and I'll show you how grateful a woman can be!"

So the man took her arm and together they left the building. Interestingly, anyone watching from a distance would have thought from the way they walked that they were a young couple, just married or nearly so. Her head rested against his shoulder and his arm was draped around her like a cape, hovering and protective. They appeared very peaceful and content.

Someone with sharp eyes, though, would have seen the man wince painfully when he sat himself in his car. And that person might have wondered...

The End

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