Poor Jennifer stared at me. She had no insolence left. She didn’t want to become one of the girls who got spanked – because of the gossip more than the hurt, I guessed – but we both knew she wouldn’t dare to defy me. But she hadn’t moved. I was thinking of teaching her a lesson in obedience, using the tawse in my desk drawer, but then I realised her hesitation was more practical. She’d said she’d never been spanked before, and perhaps it was true. She didn’t know what to do.
So I patted my thigh again. “Jennifer. If you hesitate like this again, you’ll be strapped. But this time, just put your hips on my knee, and lower the upper part of your body to the floor. So you have your bottom up, and your fingers and toes touching the floor. Yes, girl, it’s awkward. It’s meant to be.”
There was a little jolt, like an electrical shock, when she leaned forward and her thighs pressed against mine. The skirt was so short there was only one layer, the wool of my suit, between our bodies. Her mouth opened. That’s when I knew, I suppose, that part of her was enjoying this. She paused, pressed against me, afraid to take the next step.
Once she’d bent over, I wouldn’t have to tell her to lift her skirt. It’d be up around her waist anyway. She knew that, too. She was blushing furiously. Apparently it was easier to flash an audience of schoolboys than to reveal herself to a single man. She was not the mini slutfest she had been pretending to be. Or not entirely.
But that was her issue. On the whole the thought of her embarrassment pleased me. I pressed one hand against her lower belly, and with the other hand on the small of her back, I pushed her downwards. She lost her balance at the last second and fell, undignified, onto my lap, bare-legged and nearly bare-bottomed, Her little scrap of white panties was as undersized as the skirt. The skirt had ridden up so that it was completely inside-out, over her hips. I folded the end and tucked it into the waist, so it wouldn’t come down to protect her.
She lay on me, still sprawled, yet come to terms with her new position. The little pussy-pouch pointed up at me, tempting me. I could make her feel much better with one stroke of my finger down that damp little gusset. But I recollected myself: all things considered, I shouldn’t do that.
I frowned. I had’t felt like this yesterday, when I’d paddled her two classmates. Not even when I’d made them lower their panties and bend over my desk so I could begin their punishment again, on bared buttocks. They’d both been very pretty girls, and they’d squealed, squirmed and coloured most beautifully. A man cannot help but notice that, and respond to it. I had. But I hadn’t felt the same lust that I did now.
Something between Jennifer and me had become personal. She may have felt that too, because she remembered herself, suddenly, and her thighs closed, pressed together. A little miss about to be punished, but determined to be prim.
Her hip touched my cock. I was half-hard. I said, “Mhmm.”
She must have known what a penis is. She was over consenting age, and I’m sure many of the boys had tried her still-preserved virginity. But that was the first time she’d touched one. She wriggled a little further away. I put my hand on her bottom, her right buttock, and squeezed lightly. To let her know she would be ok, but also for my own tactile pleasure. I’d touched her through her panties, resisting the urge to reach under them to touch bare skin, but it hardly mattered. She was soft, and rounded, and firm, as I’d hoped.
Then I smacked her where I’d squeezed. Quite hard, so she would know this was going to be serious. There would be no easing in to it. Not for Jennifer. I watched her bottom flinch and tighten under the impact, and the skin colour blossom above and below that white cotton scrap. So pinkly beautiful.
I smacked her again, on her left side, just as hard, and watched her flinch and colour again. Then I began, letting the impact points change until I’d visited every part of her bottom at least four times, while she concentrated, trying to hold her breath, and hold herself still.
Obscurely that felt like defiance, and I increased the force of the smacks. For now, she was just a girl being punished. Regardless of what other feelings I had, she need to be brought back to the ground with a thump, and I was going to do it. I owed her that. Her breathing, and her frenzied wriggling under my hand, no longer concerned about contact with my cock, showed that I was getting through.
Her bottom was warm under my hand when it landed, and sometimes I let my hand stay with her, ride while her hips rose and fell, rose and fell. She was getting quite darkly pink now, in the parts of her bottom not shielded – shielded from sight, at least – by her panties. I decided that I’d get her to bright red, and then admire the whole view. Uninterrupted by cotton. Something told me she knew that was coming. A moment of truth. Naked truth. Whether she welcomed it or dreaded it or both, she knew.
I gave her eight hard smacks, all on the same spot on her right buttock. That set her in even more frenzied motion, and I had to hold her in place with my other hand firmly on the small of her back. She was starting to wriggle more seriously now, half wanting to escape. The half of her that didn’t want to escape must be aware of the show she was giving. I repeated that unfair series of spanks on her left cheek, just so she’d know there was justice in the world. Her wriggling and her squeals, not loud but in some distress, told me that whatever other reactions she was having,she was also feeling this as punishment.
I paused for a moment, and let her catch her breath. She smelled womanly, of musky arousal. The lips, still tucked in their pouch of white cotton, would be engorged, and – since she’d been a good girl under some very recent acting out – she’d be wondering what that sensation was. She was a wanting girl, a wanton, all inchoate desire. When I took down her panties, they – and she – would be wet.
Her breath slowed, and she took her hands from the floor to hold my left leg, holding my calf through my suit, for balance. It felt like a caress.
I stroked her bottom again. I doubted that she’d remember. There was too much going on, in her body and her mind. Her skin was more than warm. She was a hot girl, with a hot ass. I didn’t see how this moment could be delayed any longer. I lifted the hem of her panties, exposing the top of her cleft.
The next time I’d punish her if she clenched. But this time I’d allow it. It did her no good, and I still admired the view.
She gasped. She’d known it was coming, and now the moment was here. I tugged the hem down till most of her bottom was glowing redly and no doubt hotly in the open air.
My voice would be hoarse, and I should take advantage of that. I growled at her. “Lift yourself, girl. Get your hips up.”