Wicked Wednesday: Do I smell like that?

So Lucy pulled her skirt up. She wasn’t wearing anything else, except a white, uniform bra. She sat on the edge of the desk. She looked at Sir, and then at me, and she opened her thighs. 

“A little bit further back, Lucy,” Sir said. “Just skootch your bottom back a bit, so Maddie’s got room to bent over and put her head between your thighs.” Lucy blushed – she was being so bold! – and moved back as she’d been told. 

“Good girl, Lucy. Maddie, you know what to do.” 

“Yes, Sir.” I stepped forward, and bent at the waist. It seemed a very formal thing to do, though I was naked and had six stripes blazing across my ass. And I was about to get six more. And another twelve if Sir could make me jump up without permission again. 

My face face pressed between Lucy’s plump thighs. She was such a sweet girl. I wasn’t into girls, but I liked her softness. As Sir liked mine.

Lucy put her hands on my head. She pressed me down so my face got closer to her pussy. 

“Lucy, you’d be safest if you pressed on her shoulders. Remember that I’ll cane you too, if she gets up. So I expect you to hold her tight. Firmly, girl.”

Lucy said, “Yes, Sir.” I felt her hands on my head one more time, pushing me lower so my cheeks pressed against the softness of her inner thighs. Her legs opened a little wider. She smelled like ice cream. Or maybe it was just that I liked the smell of ice cream. She smelled of sweat, really, and traces of piss, and something like almond. It was delicious.

Sir had taken me once already, with his mouth and his nose in my pussy, until I screamed. Did I smell like that? No wonder he liked it.

“Put your arms around her, Maddie. She’s looking after you. So hold her tight.”

“Yes, Sir.” I slipped my hands along her plump bare thighs, and clasped her bottom, one cheek in each hand. Her hands on my shoulders caressed me.

“Good girl. Good girls, both of you. Now, Maddie, be careful not to get up.” I felt the cane tap against my bottom. Once, twice. Lucy stopped carressing and pushed firmly down. I was helpless. But in such a beautiful, confusing, world.

Then the cane was gone. I braced myself.

Wicked Wednesday: Maddie earns extra strokes

So I stayed down, bent over his desk, not even wearing a wristwatch, waiting for the light touch of the cane across my bottom. There had been two taps of the cane against my bottom, to help him to aim, and that told me where Sir was going to put the next stroke. It told me where the next fiery line of pain would land.

The tap came, twice, against my lower bottom, just above the crease of my thighs. Where the skin was softest and most sensitive, and it would hurt me most when I sat down afterwards. Then the cane swept down, and the loud crack of the bamboo on my flesh, and that line of pure pain reached my brain at the same time.

I yowled, and my hands clenched and unclenched while the pain built up. I forced my body down, the desk so cold and hard under my belly and breasts.

Eventually, I could arch my bottom out and up, the way he’d told me, to present myself for his next stroke.

Lucy said, “Two, sir. And thank you for showing me what getting the cane looks like.”

I could hear the choke in her voice. She didn’t like herself for it, but watching me get humiliated and hurt was turning her on. I could have hated her for that, but I didn’t. She was obeying orders, as I was, and we can’t help what makes us aroused.

Eventually Sir said, “Good girls. Both of you. Keep that bottom up, Maddie.”

The next three strokes were delivered with the same delicious slowness and deliberation. I knew he was watching each stripe forming, and thinking about where to put the next. He was like an artist, not a disciplinarian. He was decorating me; my pain was real, but my stripes were beautiful, to him.

I felt proud, and incredibly needy. Cunt-greedy. All I wanted was for him to fill my cunt. I needed to be fucked so badly.

I wouldn’t even care, I’d decided, if Lucy watched that too. I imagined her saying, in that high, choked voice, “Good stroke, sir! And thank you for showing me what getting fucked looks like.”

I chuckled at that thought, and that sealed my fate, I think. Sir said, “Last stroke, Maddie. A nice, traditional six of the best.” 

And I spread for him, moving my feet further apart, when he tapped the cane again, still low on my bottom. I wanted him to see how greedy my cunt was. And, I suppose, Lucy. A second passed, while he held the cane above his shoulder. And then he swung it down, across my underbum, at least twice as hard as the other strokes. Then all I knew was fire and pain. 

I screamed, and my body rose from the desk. I howled and reached back to clutch my bottom. It hurt so much! I was standing up, hands across my ass for comfort and protection, while I hopped in place and swore and swore and swore. 

Sir said, “Hands away, Maddie! Put them on your head!”

When I’d obeyed – I knew I was in trouble, and I put my hands up as fast as I could – he strode forward and spanked me hard, several times, on my bottom, already sore and striped from the cane. I managed to take those in silence, though the tears of pain and shame streamed down my face. 

He turned my face towards him then, and we were close enough to kiss. I wanted to melt into his arms, but I knew I couldn’t. It wasn’t that Lucy was watching: she was already part of this strange intimacy between us. It was that I was in disgrace. 

Sir looked at Lucy then. “What do you think happens now, Lucy?”

She was so pale. She started to speak, and cut herself off. Finally she managed to say, “I– I don’t know, Sir.” 

“If you lie to me again, Lucy, you’ll get the same as Maddie. Do you understand?” 

Lucy’s little pink tongue passed around her lips. Eventually she said, “She’d get the same again, Sir.” 

“That’s right. And if she gets up again – you hear me, Maddie! – she’ll get another twelve. All right, Lucy. Maddie’s got six strokes coming. Do you want to watch her get another twelve on top of that?”

There was another silence. I watched Lucy. She was wearing only her shirt, and perhaps a bra. Her thighs and knees were trembling, and the tears in her eyes had spilled. She said, “No, Sir.”

Then another silence. Sir and I both knew Lucy was lying. Or part of her was. But Sir said, “Then you’re a kind girl, and I’m sure you’d like to held young Maddie, wouldn’t you?” 

Lucy frowned. “Yes, Sir?” 

“Good girl. I want you to pull your shirt up to your waist, and sit on the edge of my desk. Maddie’s going to put her head in your lap while I cane her. You’re going to hold her in place, Lucy, with your thighs and your hands holding her down. And if she takes her nose out of your … lap, just once, then she’ll get the extra twelve. And you’ll get them along with her. Do you understand?”

Lucy hesitated. 

 

 

Wicked Wednesday! Maddie, meet the cane!

I stepped forward, avoiding Lucy’s gaze, and bent over Sir’s desk. Lucy’s skirt lay folded on the desk beside me, where she’d taken it off to receive her spanking. I put my hands forward, and lowered the upper half of my body slowly down to the desktop. 

The desk was cold. I could feel my own goosebumps, then the cold, hard surface when my nipples touched the wood and I let myself all the way down.

I knew I was helpless now. I felt absolutely powerless. It was going to happen. 

I felt his hand pressing down on the small of my back. “Bottom up, Maddie. You know what presentation means.” So, under the force of his hand I arched my back, so that all of my body pressed tight on the desk, while my bottom jutted up. For him, and Lucy, to watch. 

“Good girl. Keep it up. Even when the cane’s hurting. You get one warning on that, Maddie, then I start issuing extra strokes.” 

There was a gasp from Lucy, a suppressed protest on my behalf. “Come here, Lucy.” I supposed she must have crossed the carpet behind me, because the next thing I heard was the the unmistakeable sound of Sir’s hand landing on Lucy’s bottom. She got a dozen, and she was wailing quietly for the last four of spanks.

He spoke quietly, so I guessed she was in his arms. “Maddie needs to learn discipline,” he said to her. “If she knows she gets extra strokes if she moves out of position, will that help her stay in position?” 

There was a silence. Lucy had to be thinking. To answer “Yes”, would be to approve of me getting extra strokes, and she didn’t want to say that. Then there was another loud smack. Lucy cried out, “Sir! Sorry, Sir! Yes, Sir, it’s kinder to warn her.” 

“Good. Now, Lucy, would you like to do Maddie a favour, while I cane her?” 

There was another silence, while Lucy considered what on earth that might mean. But finally she said, “Yes, Sir.” As I would have in her position. 

“Good girl. Sometimes when a girl is being caned, she has to count each stroke out loud, and thank me for each one. You know that, don’t you?” 

“Yes, Sir.” Her voice was breathy. I wondered, over his desk, eyes looking at at the dark teak below me, if he was doing something to her while they spoke. Or if she found the situation exciting. It was at that thought that I realised that I was getting wet. It was a turn-on, to know that watching me aroused her. And if Sir was stroking her while they talked, I wasn’t even jealous. 

“Good girl. I want you to count the strokes. In a loud, clear voice after each one. And then you can thank me for showing you what a caning looks like. Can you do that, Lucy?” 

“Yes.” She was barely whispering. “Sir.” 

“Then we begin.” And a few seconds later I felt a thin, hard pressure against the fullest part of my bottom. Then it tapped me once, and then it was gone.

I waited, wondering how much it was going to hurt. Then it landed, a straight line of fire across both cheeks of my bottom, exactly where he’d tapped me. It hurt instantly, and then a second later it hurt more than anything I’d felt before. Oh, it burned. 

I screamed, “Yaaaah!”, and my body rocked and writhed on his desk. “Oh! Ah Sir! Sir, that huuuurts!” 

A second later Lucy said, “One, Sir. Thank you for letting me watch, watch what getting caned looks like.” 

I struggled with myself. It took all of my will-power not to get up and run Though where I could have run, stark naked with a fresh cane-stripe across my ass, I’m not sure. Eventually I managed to get my bottom up, the way he’d told me, for the next stroke. 

“Good girl, Maddie. A little faster, next time. Can you manage that?” 

I thought about extra strokes. Then I thought about how much I wanted to please him. “Yes sir, I will stay in position. Or get myself back into position quickly. Sir.” 

“Good girl. But if I have to warn you again, you will get extra.” I nodded into his desk. Of course I was going to earn extra strokes. I was never going to get used to this. 

The cane returned, pressing against my bottom, just a little lower than that first stroke. Then a little tap, then the cane’s terrifying absence. I held my breath.

 

Wicked Wednesday: Maddie and the cane

So I knocked on the headmaster’s door. I didn’t have any plan what I’d say to him. But I had my too-small school uniform on, the one my mother had bought without me, and I figured he’d cane me for looking like a slut. So I wouldn’t have to say much. 

I knocked again. I heard an impact sound, one I’d learned to recognise. My heart sank. The last time I’d heard someone else being punished in his office, that boy had hurt me so badly. It wasn’t just the rape; it was everything. So I wanted to run away, but I’d knocked and I’d be caught if I tried. I was committed now. 

Then that impact sound again, and this time there was a grunt. It was a girl, her first exhalation of pain. So I relaxed a bit. There was another set of impacts, and now there were little cries of distress. They got a little louder and higher pitched with every – paddle stroke? His belt? His hand?

He was spanking her, I thought. I’d heard the impact sound of his hand, his belt, and on that boy, the cane: I’d learned a lot about how discipline sounded. I recognised this as the sound on his hand landing on bare flesh. 

I waited, and the spanking resumed, harder. The girl was crying now, wailing. He ignored her cries: his hand just kept landlng on her bottom, over and over, while she squealed and screamed. It was as though I could see her, kicking her legs, held helpless over his knee. I’d been in her place not so long ago.

At last he stopped. She kept sobbing, her bottom and thighs aching and her mind utterly shocked. And her cunt awake and wanting. Wanton. Yes, I had been there.  

I head his voice, but couldn’t hear the words. But it seemed to me it was only a couple of seconds later that the door opened. Behind him a girl, dark-haired, plump, the kind of not-too-plump plump that men always follow with their eyes, was standing with her hands on her head, her skirt off and her panties round her ankles. He said, “Ah, Maddie. I was expecting you later.” 

“I know, Sir.” I’d lost all my courage. I’d planned how sexy I was going to be, how poised, for this. Instead I was tongue-tied. I hoped the clothes spoke for me.

(This and the image above from Strict Julies Spanks: http://strictjuliespanks.blogspot.com.au/2017/01/schoolgirl-punishment-part-1.html?zx=52c775e378ada53a

He lifted my uniform at the back. I could feel the air on my bottom, and on my thighs.I  held the skit up, knowing he’d want me too. “And I told you you’re not to wear that uniform again. You disobeyed me.” 

“Yes, Sir. I’m sorry. I came to show you.” 

He looked at me. The skirt wasn’t much more than a belt (I think I’d grown a little, even since my mom had bought it), and the blouse barely held my breasts. And for a second his eyes met mine and he smiled. To let me know he knew why I was there. I felt so warm when he did that.

“Well, if you want the cane, girl, you’ve certainly come to the right place. Get in.” He pulled me into his office by my shoulder and propelled me forward. The girl and I stood facing each other. Her face was pretty, and bright red, and her eyes and cheeks were wet.

Our eyes met. We understood something about each other. 

He said, “You’re out of uniform, Maddie. As you know. So what do you do?” 

“Take it off, Sir?” 

“Everything, Maddie, before I cane you. Lucy: you’re staying. This is a strict school, but if you’re a good girl you may never knew what the cane feels like. But this girl here’s about to find out. You’re going to watch.” 

Lucy’s face was even redder than it was before. She got out, “Yes, Sir”, but her voice was choked. 

“Maddie, are you naked?” 

I’d been watching Lucy. “Sir, no, Sir. I’m sorry.” I hurried up with buttons, and pealed my shirt off, then slipped my panties down. And off. 

“That’s…” He paused, thinking. “Three extra strokes.” Lucy winced. “Bend over my desk, Maddie.” 

Wicked Wednesday: How can you beat a tattoo?

The head drove me home, but let me out a block away, so I’d look like I was walking back from my friend’s. The next day he took me to a doctor, a nice, friendly woman who took the need for pregnancy testing and STD testing, for a girl in school uniform, very much in her stride. 

Doctor, doctor, gimme the news…

He took me back to her clinic a week later, and held my hand – she took that in her stride too – while she gave me the results. And when she told us I wasn’t pregnant and hadn’t acquired any STDs I was so happy I jumped into his arms and kissed him.

That didn’t surprise her either, so I guess she knew that Conal Wright sometimes fucked his girl pupils. I didn’t think of that at the time.

I wasn’t his first schoolgirl, and I wouldn’t be the last, but he’d look after me till I left.

So he took me to his place after school, and I took off all my clothes at the door, like he’d instructed me.

Ah, that’s better!

He cuddled me on the couch, and then he took me over his knee and gave me a long, long, quite hard spanking. It was a gift, too. I needed it and I loved it, naked over his knee, ass under his nose with my thighs apart. Afterwards he stroked me, fingers inside my cunt, until I came. It felt so wonderful, and I wanted more, of course.

But he told me to come in two nights’ time: Friday night, and tell my parents I was on a school expedition. That meant I was going to stay the night! I could hardly wait. I was walking on air for the next couple of days. 

There was just one other thing. On Thursday, at my local supermarket, I saw the creep who’d raped me. He had a broken leg and two broken arms, and bruises and abrasions on his nose and cheekbones. Even so I was terrified that he’d see me. But when he did he fell back, obviously terrified, and hobbled off as fast as he could. On his crutches.

If I ever got raped again, darling, [Maddie said to me as I lay beside her, listening to her story] I’d be furious if you did something like that. It doesn’t make anything any better. And it’s just stupid macho display; it’s not for my good, but the man’s. And I hate the smarmy way men tell a woman they’ve beaten up their rapist, like they’re a cat dropping a bloody mouse onto the carpet. So don’t do that. But … the truth was, I felt good when I saw that creep. I felt so savage, and glad he’d got what he fucking well deserved.

One thing I’ll say for the Head was that he never told me about it. He’d done it, I guess, to relieve his own feelings, and maybe to put the guy out of the raping business, at least for a while. So he hadn’t pretended to me that he’d done it for me. But I was pleased he’d done it. I was pretty ruthless back then. And I never saw that creep again, either.

Anyway, on Friday morning, I got out my old school uniform. The one that was far too small. The reason he’d first punished me, it seemed an age ago. I put it in my schoolbag.

The Edinburgh Tattoo

I left early in the morning, and when I got to school I changed into the mini-me uniform in the toilets. I looked such a slut! Skirt just about up to my panties, and well, I had trouble getting the shirt buttons done up. Perfect! Then I went to see the head. He’d cane me for that, I knew. And I wanted him to cane me hard, before he fucked me.

So I knocked on his door, my heart beating a tattoo.

 

Wicked Wednesday: Maddie takes unholy orders

He smiled down at me, freshly orgasmic, freshly spanked, over his knee. I’d just asked him to fuck me, and I’d meant it. He put his hand back on my poor, sensitive bottom, and said, “No, Maddie. You know this isn’t the right night. I want it to be special for you.” 

I thought of arguing with him. But it seemed such a silly thing that I just giggled. He looked puzzled. “What, girl?” 

“I feel very special right now, sir. And I want you to… fuck me.” 

I don’t know for sure, but that may be Ornella Muti’s (Princess Aurora in Flash Whoo-ah! Gordon) daughter.

He smacked me then. I yelped. “You don’t argue with me, Maddie. Do you?” 

“No, Sir.” Then I laughed again. “You can fuck me whenever you like.” It sounded like such a strange thing to say to a man. I felt so grown-up over his knee, so forward, and so good, and so happy.

“Oh, girl, I certainly will. You don’t want to have any choice on that, do you?”

I had to think about that. Then I said, truly, “No, I don’t. That’s what ‘whenever you like’ means. Always, Sir. Not just the first time.”

He spanked me again, six smacks, not hard. They hurt me, but I knew he wanted me to feel good. I did.

 “Thank me for your spanking, Maddie.” 

“Oh, yes, Sir! Thank you for spanking me. And thank you for making me come. It was glorious. If you don’t mind me saying, Sir.” 

He rubbed me where he’d spanked. I was ready to come again. He just had to… Then it struck that he didn’t have to do anything. I was the one who had to do things. My life wasn’t going to be fair. It was just going to be hot. At last he said, “I don’t mind you saying, at all, Maddie. I’m pleased with you. In every way. You’re a good girl. A perfect girl. You can be proud of that.”  

“Sir.” I waggled my bottom at him. I hoped… Well, you know what I hoped.

He said, “But you need to get up now. Put your feet on the floor.” He helped me up, still naked. “Keep your back to the fire, girl. Hands on head.” 

I obeyed, and he disappeared for a while. He reappeared with my clothes, an iron and ironing board. “You can iron, I take it.” 

“Better than my mother, Sir.” 

He set up the board and plugged the iron. “All right. Show me.” 

I reached for my panties – they didn’t need ironing. He strode over quickly, held me, and bent me forward at the waist. His hand landed on my bottom, once, twice, then six times, then ten, and I wondered, yelping and writhing and squealing apologies, how long this spanking was going to go on for. This time he really was punishing me.

It hurt. Physically, I mean. I felt so bad for doing something that made me deserve it, too. He stopped at thirty smacks, though I didn’t stop wriggling, and hopping from foot to foot for a while afterwards. My poor little ass really hurt. I wanted to rub it better, but I knew that I did that without his permission I’d feel his belt, or worse.

 “Maddie. You will never dress yourself in my presence, without my express permission. Is that clear?” 

I felt so ashamed. I hadn’t thought. “Yes, I’m sorry, Sir. It won’t happen again.” 

“I should think not. In fact, whenever you’re here, you undress at the door. You do not have the right to wear clothes in this house, unless I tell you otherwise.” 

“Yes, Sir. I understand.” I was so sorry. 

“Now iron your skirt and your shirt. I’ll watch.” 

He was smiling again. My heart lifted, with that. I remembered the fantasy I’d had in the bath, about being Miss Sexy Girl with an iron. So I stood further from the ironing board than I usually do, so that I had to bend at the waist.

And I began, basking in his eyes. I, uh, was finding that I don’t mind the male gaze. If it’s the right male. 

While I worked, he told me he’d made a doctor’s appointment for tomorrow morning.

He’d take me. We were going to do tests for pregnancy and swabs to test for STDs. And, he said, I might need to take the morning after pill.

That could be easy, but there was also a chance it could make me feel very bad. So he’d bring me here again tomorrow, so he could look after me.

The morning after pill at didn’t sound like much fun. But I realised that he wasn’t going to fuck me till all this had been dealt with, and I was ok. That made sense. I wasn’t getting what I wanted, but he was taking care of me.  

Eventually, I finished, and uniform was all crisp and warm again. He looked at me very seriously. “You may get dressed now, Maddie.” 

When I’d finished, he held me in his arms and kissed me. I felt him getting hard again. So did he, because he suddenly stopped. “Come on, girl. I’d better take you home.”

 

 

Wicked Wednesday: Maddie over the headmaster’s knee

I was washing myself in Sir’s bath while he watched. It was an interesting experience. He said nothing, and looked into my eyes, not at my body. I felt shy at first, but less so by the time I washed my feet. Which, by the way, is about the most exposed thing to do in front of a man. By then I was enjoying myself, because he said nothing, but smiled at me. So I could flirt a little. 

But then I heard a clunk sound from somewhere in the house. The washing machine had finished and switched itself off. He said, “All right, Maddie. Time to get out.” He picked up a nice warm, fluffy towel and stood beside the bath reaching down his hand, I took his hand and stood up, and he wrapped the towel round my shoulders. “Get yourself dry, girl. And then come out, the way I told you. Stand beside the armchair, hands on head. I’ll be with you shortly.” 

And he left, I guessed to deal with my clothes and put them in the drier. I looked at myself in the mirror. I liked myself. I was clean, and pink. The boiled lobster look never goes out of style! 

I was going to have my head dangling down to the carpet soon, while he spanked me. I thought about putting my hair up. But I wasn’t sure that I could do that so that it wouldn’t fall out while I was getting my bottom warmed. Also, I guessed he wouldn’t like it much. So I plaited it. 

Out in the living room there was a big tan leather armchair with a round arm. There were other armchairs but I knew that was the one he meant.

So I stood beside it as he’d ordered. And I thought about what was coming. I’d liked being spanked by him from the very first time. It seemed so long ago, now. But I already knew, once I’d felt his hand on my bottom, that this felt incredibly right, and sexy, and good. 

This was going to be the first time he’d spanked me naked, and that felt right too. We didn’t have to pretend any more. There was the horrible thing that had happened to me, only three hours ago, but though that meant we weren’t going to fuck tonight, it wasn’t going to be long. Whenever he said, as far as I was concerned.

Then he came back. “Good girl, Maddie.” 

“Thank you, Sir.” 

“Take that towel off, then get back in position.” 

“Yes, Sir.” I only had to twitch it at my left shoulder and it fell away, at my feet. The air was warm around my body. I could feel steam rising from me. Literally, as well as metaphorically of course. He’d put the heating on. I hoped that when we fucked it would be here, and not in his office. 

Then he came close, and he put his hand on my jaw and lifted my face a little. He smiled down at me, and then kissed me. It was our first kiss, and my heart was beating so hard, and my cunt felt like it was melting. I was so turned on; I wanted him to fuck me then, so, so much.

But he smacked my bottom, not hard. Fondly. It hadn’t occured to me that you could spank a girl fondly. It seemed a nice thing to know.

He sat in that chair, holding my hand, and then he pulled me down, over his knee. There was my face, so close to the carpet, my fingertips and my toes resting on it. And my bottom up and poised for him. 

“Maddie. Why are you getting this spanking?”

I had to think. I couldn’t care less, just then, why he was going to spank me. It was so hot and warm for me that he wanted to, and that was all I knew. But I remembered. “Because I lied to you, Sir.” 

“Yes, you did, girl. But you were just being a little bit mischievous. I’d hate for you ever to lose that. Not completely, though you’ll often go too far and have to be put in your place. Won’t you?” 

I had to smile. “Yes, Sir. I expect so.” 

He put his hand on my bottom then, and squeezed me. God, it felt good. I was so wet. He said, “So. You’re getting this spanking because I think it’ll bring you back to the world. You’ll know where you are and feel better. In the familiar world. Because you know you’re going to be spanked often, don’t you, Maddie?” 

“Yes, I do do, Sir. And I know, now I’m not scared any more, that I’ll love that.” 

I heard him laugh, very quietly. “Oh, I don’t think you’ll enjoy every time, Maddie. Sometimes I’ll be setting out to punish you properly. What I think you’ll love is being a girl who has to do as she’s told, and gets punished if she doesn’t.” 

He smacked me again, and again, one on each side. He hadn’t asked me a question, but I said, “Yes, Sir.” 

“Good girl. Head down, thighs right apart.” 

I obeyed, forgetting to say yes Sir because his hand was coming down on my bottom now, over and over, warm and hard. I knew nothing except his lap, which came with a hard cock pushed against my hip, and his hand.

His hand landed on the backs of my thighs, and the sides of my bottom, and then more and more on the sit spot, where – I was starting to realise – I like it most. 

I knew I was bright red by then, and it was starting to burn, but he kept on, hurting me and comforting me at once, over and over. I lost count of how many smacks he’d given me, and I’d lost all track of time. I just knew that I wanted him to continue, because there was … something ahead for me, and his spanking me was driving me towards it. 

Eventually he relented and stroked my cunt, in amongst the smacks, and the thing I was heading for started to come at me, like a train at the other end of the tunnel. I spread my thighs as wide as I possibly could, to make him stroke my cunt more, but mostly he concentrated on the spanking, pushing me harder and harder. 

And – I don’t know. The train hit me. I came so hard over his knee, my head up and my legs in the air, one screaming girl, blissed out. Eventually I collapsed back on his knee, head down, legs limp, his hand resting on my bottom, stroking. 

His cock was so hard. Harder even than when I’d sucked him in his office. Bigger. I breathed. I wished I could look at him, but his hand held me firmly down. My body wanted him so strongly that it took me a while to realise I hadn’t actually asked. Not out loud, not in so many words. “Fuck me, Sir? Will you fuck me please, Sir?”

Note

I really wanted to do the prompt this week. It’s a good one. But the Jennifer and Maddie saga belongs to Wicked Wednesday. And I simply couldn’t fit an alien or even a visitor, let alone refugee policy, into this week’s episode. Sorry about that.

Wicked Wednesday: Maddie in the headmaster’s bath

Out of Maddie’s story: Back in the storeroom with me

Back in the storeroom beside my office, where Maddie was telling me this story, I looked over at her. We were lying side by side on a mattress that would eventually find its way to the school sickroom. Maddie wasn’t so tense in my arms now, and her eyes, staring at the ceiling, seemed more relaxed. We’d passed the hard part of her story. 

I kissed her cheek, near her nose, since that was where I could reach. She turned to face me, and we cuddled, full length, Maddie pushing a leg between mine so we were intertwined. We were in that pleasant emotional valley between affection and sex, and not inclined to make any definite swing in one direction or the other. 

I was still soft-cocked. It hadn’t been long since we’d fucked, and since then she’d told me about getting raped in the boy’s toilets at her school. That was about the most antierotic thing I’d ever heard. So there’d be no more fucking, at least not  involving penises, until I’d got that out of my head. I think Maddie was happier with comfort than with lust just at that moment too.

But affection: I guessed that was what she wanted most, and I could do that. 

I held her and said, “You’re in his bath, the lucky bastard. So then what happened?” 

Back in Maddie’s story, and in her headmaster’s bath

I put my toes in the bath. It was just short of being too hot, so it was just right. I could hear him just outside the door, picking up my clothes. I imagined him coming in, to see me, and I hurried into the bath. 

My view

It wasn’t that I didn’t want him to see me. It was that I’d seen movies where the woman lets the man into her bathroom, and she’s all covered up in soap bubbles, and all you got was the odd glimpse of golden, pink skin, and no nipples and no thighs. And I wanted him to see me like that. Looking all grand and sexy.

I didn’t want sex with him, not then. My cunt hurt, and I still felt terrible. Something that was going to be so lovely, between us, had got fucked up, and and it was my fault. I know. I’m talking about how I felt then. 

I was a little bit angry with men, too. I wasn’t angry with him, my headmaster, sir, but there was still some free-floating anger. How could this have happened? It just wasn’t fair. And it happens to girls like me, and it never happens to men like him. 

Still, though I didn’t feel like getting fucked that night, sex was still something between us and I needed to know it had survived.

His view

I still wanted him to cane me, and make me do whatever he wanted and punish me if I didn’t do it right. And I wanted him to fuck me, in all the ways a woman can be fucked, and for him to teach me everything he knew. And then I could serve him.

And I knew that was what he wanted too. So I liked that. I didn’t want it to happen that night. But I needed to know he still wanted me, and that made me feel a little flirtatious, even a little sexy. Do you see that?

I heard a washing machine going. I thought about him taking the clothes out of the drier, in an hour or so, all crumpled and needing ironing. And I thought of watching him iron my clothes, and something about that made me giggle. And then I thought about ironing my clothes in front of him. I’d have to drop the robe so he could see me lean forward. And wiggle. That, my darling, was the Kahlua talking. Or at least doing my thinking for me. 

So I poured some more water, and added more soap bubbles everywhere, so I was almost modest. Though I left a nipple poking out. I thought it looked accidental. And I called out, “Sir? Sir?

“Maddie?” He was back in the living room. And he wasn’t coming in to see me. 

So I said, “Sir, I’m feeling shaky still. Can I have … another adult drink, please?”

There was a pause. Eventually he decided he had to believe me. I was pretty sure those were the rules. So he said, “All right, Maddie. But just one. That’s it.” 

So I ran more bubbly stuff and churned it up, till I had dabs of bubble in my hair and like icecream cones on my knees, but still with one nipple peeking out. I thought if he liked me at all, he’d find that irresistible.

He came in, with another glass for me, and a glass of something clear in his other hand. And he stopped and looked down at me. All ready for him, like a sophisticated New York socialite in a movie. He saw me, a naked girl all bubbled up, looking about ten years old, I suppose, and thinking I looked thirty. He smiled. 

“Maddie. You said you were feeling shaky. I want you to look in my eyes.” 

And I did. His were kind, at that moment, but they could be hard, too. Blue eyes, he had. And the lines around them were kind. He was going to cane me and fuck me, but he cared and worried about people. And we looked at each other, on and on, for ages. 

“Were you just feeling shaky, girl, or did you just want me to come in here?”

He was still looking at me, and I was still gazing into his eyes. I couldn’t lie, and I didn’t want to. “I wanted you to come in, sir. I felt lonely. And … now I really do feel shaky.”

He smiled, and gave me the glass. I leaned forward to take it, and there were my breasts, a little soapy, but basically bare. I leaned back quickly, retreating behind the bath foam. 

“Good girls don’t tell lies.” But he didn’t seem at all angry with me. “Do you think you’ve just deserved a spanking, Maddie?” 

I didn’t have to think about that. “Yes, sir.”

“You’re right, provoking little girl. All right, that robe I gave you to wear.”

“Yes, sir?”

Doris Day hadn’t always been a virgin. She took it up later in life.

“You can carry it out of the bath, and I’ll let you wear it later. But when you’ve finished here, you’re just going to have a towel round your body, and you’ll take it off when I tell you, and put yourself over my knee.”

“Yes, sir.”  And I smiled at him. The idea that he wanted to be in charge of me made me feel so relieved. 

“Good girl. Up to a point. Now drink your drink.” 

He put the lid down and sat on the toilet, to watch me. “And clear those ridiculous soap bubbles away. Who do you think you are, Doris Day?” 

“Who?” 

“Never mind. You’ve got a lot to learn. Now wash yourself.”

So I cleared away the bubbles and obeyed. He watched, but even when I spread my thighs and washed my cunt, and scrubbed at it with the flannel, he watched my eyes. 

 

Wicked Wednesday: At home with the Headmaster

“So we stopped in a brick house, two-storied, in Remmers. That was a good neighbourhood in my town. My parents didn’t know anyone who lived there, and neither did I. He let me walk, this time, and took me up to the door, and unlocked. 

He put his hand on the small of my back to steady me. I’d started to get the shakes, from reaction. So he led me in. I looked around. I was impressed: he was rich, by my standards, and he had good taste, by my parents’. I guess almost any house owned by an adult would have impressed me, at the time. Now, looking back, I see that he really did have good taste.

One thing I remember is that he had some Renoir nudes. Just pencil drawings, and quite small. You could buy them in those days for only a few hundred dollars. He had three. He’d framed them, but they were kind of discreet, on the wall by his bedroom door. They weren’t in pride of place. He’d bought them because he liked them.

Anyway, he saw me shaking, and he came over quickly and hugged me. Just held me. Told me I was good, I’d done nothing wrong, and I had every right to be angry but I shouldn’t be ashamed. Then he held me until I settled, stopped shaking and just went limp in his arms.

He sat me down then, and got me a drink. He said I needed an adult drink. An ‘adult drink’, by the way, turned out to be Kahlua and coke. It seemed very adult to me, especially since he’d said so. But now I realise that it meant I wasn’t the first schoolgirl he taken home. 

I chugged it down while he ran a hot bath. When I was finished he went to his room and came back with a huge bathrobe. He said, “Bathtime, Maddie.”

“What do I need a bath for?” I thought he just wanted to see me naked. Though he already had, so that was nonsense, of course. But I wasn’t thinking well.

“You… I think you feel that you’ve been made dirty. You haven’t, Maddie, not at all. But I think you’d feel better if you scrubbed every last touch of that bastard off of you. So, off you go. Into the bath. Up!”

I stood up. I took the bathrobe, and walked to the bathroom door. There was hot steam rising, and it smelled of eucalyptus. It did seem good. “Thank you, sir.” 

“Just a moment, Maddie. I’m going to turn my back. But you’re to take everything off, and leave it in a little pile outside the door.” 

“But I can’t go home in different clothes!”

“You won’t. I’ll have them washed and dried. They’ll be ready in a couple of hours, no more. And you can wear the robe in the meantime.”

“But… I don’t know… Can’t I just put my clothes back on?” They did stink. I knew that. I just felt suddenly shy.

“Maddie.” I’d heard that tone from him before. “I said I won’t cane you tonight. But if you try for a spanking, you’ll get one.” I realised that a spanking was exactly what I wanted just then, so long as he made it last a long time, and stroked me, and cuddled me afterwards. I wanted that so much. But I didn’t know how to say so.

He was still using the do-as-you’re-told voice. “Leave all of your clothes on the carpet, right now. And go in and have your bath. I’m counting to five.”

He turned his back.

I fumbled with the top button on my shirt. I wondered if he’d come in. I wondered how I could make him come in. 

“One.”

I squealed, and i’d stripped before he got to four. And pulled the bathroom door almost closed once I was naked. He never had to say Five.

Maddie’s virginity: Post-mortem 2

“So he let me in. Once I was inside, I just stood there and howled. Absolutely grief-stricken. I wanted to hold onto him but I couldn’t. I felt I’d let him down so badly and it was all my fault. And I felt… unclean. He wouldn’t want to touch me, if he knew what I’d done.”

I said, “You didn’t -”

“I know. I know that now. But I’m talking about what I felt at the time. I felt so worthless. Anyway, thank god he stopped asking me what was wrong, and just held me. He told me I was a good girl and a beautiful girl, and nothing can happen that you can’t live through. And then he shut up and held me. I just bawled, big wracking sobs from all the way inside me. I dunno; it may be the worst I’ve ever felt in my life. And I felt my life was over. Hah! I must have made such a mess of his shirt.”

I held her. Maddie made light of it, but talking about it brought some of that pain back.

I said, eventually, “Well, he was right, you know. You are a good girl. And a beautiful girl.” 

“Hah. Sweet talker. Anyway, I eventually subsided, enough to tell him what had happened. I accused myself of wanting it, and it was my fault. And he should whip me. I was too worthless for him. I tried to break out of his arms. I wanted to run out of his room, and… I have no idea. Maybe go back to Plan A and jump in front of a car.

“But he didn’t let me go. And he stroked my back, without touching my ass. And brushed away my hair from my face – it was all wet! And he started to soothe me again. A vicious manboy had sone something evil, but I hadn’t done anything wrong. I was good, I was clever, I was special, I was beyond pretty. Like that. I don’t remember what he said specifically. But it was sweet, and he obviously didn’t think I was worthless or my life was over. So I couldn’t see far ahead, but I tried to think maybe he was right. 

“Anyway, he said he was going to call the police. And I refused. I refused for all the wrong reasons: shame, not understanding what rape was. I thought it had to be at gunpoint or something. So if it didn’t take two guys with guns, then it was my fault. My doing. And I didn’t want to talk about it.

“So he said at least he’d have to call my parents. And I just begged him. And… I’ve got mixed feelings now, about not wanting the police called. Because they’d have put me on trial, and so would the courts. But, you know, you have to make sure the bastard gets a record. For the sake of other women. But I wasn’t ready to carry that. Not telling my parents: I don’t think I was wrong there at all. They’d have been no help. The opposite of help.” 

Maddie had talked to me about her parents before. They’d have followed the rules punctiliously, and probably would have called the cops without Maddie’s consent. And they’d have been no emotional support at all. They meant well, and that was the best you could say for them. 

“So, he sighed, my headmaster. His name was Conal Wright, by the way. I just never thought of him as that. He was ‘Sir’ to me. Always.

“And he said to text my parents, then, and say I’d be home late. I could say I was getting extra history tuition from the headmaster, he said. So I texted and said I’d be chilling with my friend Rosemary for a while.”

When I said I’d told my parents I’d be late, he told me to sit down and wait for him. He was going to get his car, and park it just outside his office. So I wouldn’t have to walk far. And he’d take me home. To his home. And you know, I was still distraught, and I wasn’t being a hypocrite, but I liked the way he looked at me. 

So I sat down, while he left. I’d never been alone in a teacher’s office before. He’d been expecting to cane me, and the cane was still on the table. So once he was safely gone, I got out of my seat and went and picked it up. It was so hard. I imagined how it would feel it he brought it down on my hands. It was an object that only existed to hurt me. To mark my bare bottom and thighs. And maybe other places. 

“Iit’s funny, but that cane in my hands made something in me drop. I didn’t want sex just then. But I remembered what it had been like, wanting to be caned, and then wanting him to fuck me.

“And that cane made me feel like there was a sort of echo, like it was far away but coming home again, from my cunt. Anyway, I put the cane back where he’d left it. 

“I was sure he wasn’t going to cane me, or fuck me, tonight. But I didn’t want him to see I’d touched his cane. I still didn’t want him angry with me. 

“Anyway, in a few minutes I heard his car pull up, just outside. And he came back in. With a blanket, the kind you have in a first aid kit. For car crashes. Car crash: that was me!”

I hugged her, with feeling. “You’re my lovely car crash, you are.”

“You’re my cruel bastard. Master darling. Anyway, he wrapped me in the blanket. He told me there was no-one still around. And he picked my up! In his arms! And he carried me out to his car.”