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.
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.
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.
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.