That evening Asuka arrived home after him. She was uncharacteristically quiet. When she’d let herself in she went to Seamus, where he was sitting on the couch. She knelt and kissed his feet. 

“I’m sorry I was late, Sensei. You should punish me later.” 

Seamus smiled. She was, of course, p[lay-acting. She hoped to be spanked, since she’d found she enjoyed that very much in its own right, and that it always led to very passionate sex. So he said, trying to sound stern, “Do you get to tell me what I should do, little seidoral?” He hadn’t called her that before. It meant she was his slave, kept for labour or for sexual purposes.

“No, sensei! No! I’m so sorry. Your seidorel would never tell you what to do. I meant, I humbly beg that you punish me.”

He grinned at her then, and just for a second she smiled back, before assuming a properly submissive posture and expression. “Come up and kiss me, little one. Just because you’re my slave doesn’t mean I can’t love you. Game-playing little seidorel.”

Asuka climbed up and then plonked herself onto his lap. She kissed his neck. “I like you calling me your seidorel. It feels … limitless. You can do whatever you like.”

“Except that your Dad would have me killed if you came to any harm.”

“Oh? Should I tell him you put welts on my bottom?”

“He knows, little one. He doesn’t count that as harm, I’m afraid. He told me he should have done it himself, but he never had the nerve. You’re too scary, little seidorel.”

 “Not too scary for you.”

“Oh, I’m brave, me.” He kissed her, his arms round her, and they didn’t move or speak for some time. At last, when he realised she was rubbing her bottom against his cock, getting him hard, he said, “I’ll show you. Fetch the cane, little seidorel. Come back with it, and no clothes. Now!”

He smacked her bottom, hard, and the room rang, not for the first time, with the sound of a male hand on delicate, girl, flesh. Asuka squealed, and scampered.

She was more solemn when she returned, naked, holding the cane before her with both hands. She looked at him. “How many strokes did you give Yua today?”

“One dozen in front of the class. One dozen in the storeroom. And I’m not sure I should let you two talk to each other about this. She’s a bad influence.”

“You spanked her, too. She said it’s the hardest spanking she’s ever had. And you made her come!”

“She made herself come. And I’m trying to think of a way of stopping that, next time. Anyway” – he took the cane from her hands and stood up – “you were late home without permission. And if you were gossiping with Yua, you definitely have no excuse. Assume the position, little bad seidorel.”

“Hai, darling Sensei.” She turned her back, and jackknifed her body down, so she was touching her toes.

Seamus caned her, starting from the crease of her buttocks and thighs, and slowly rising until her bottom was well striped. He gave her two dozen strokes, as he’d given Yua, but these were nowhere near as hard. The marks stood out now, but he expected they would be gone in a day or two.

When he’d finished her punishment he told her to stay in position, and went to the bedroom to get the lube. He lubed her little dark asshole thoroughly, and then his cock.

She moaned luxuriously as he pushed into her, taking her slowly but firmly until her heated bottom blared its warmth at his groin and lower belly. He’d come to love that heat; it was tactile proof, even when he couldn’t see his welts on her, that he’d marked her, taken her as his.

He pressed forward a little further, in that tight and slippery tube, Asuka tightening her rectal muscles on his cock. She bent even tighter, and kept her ass firmly against him. Then they started to rock together, a sensuous, unhurried fuck.

At exactly six there was a tap at their door. Asuka shouted, “Come in!”

“What the fuck?” Seamus withdrew his cock, and grabbed at his shirt to cover it.

“Please sensei, don’t stop.”

He said, “Bloody hell, Asuka.” The door opened. It was Yua.

Seamus sighed. This, he thought, is weird. He’d found that he enjoyed disciplining girls. Chiaki had taught him that. She’d begged him to assume control of her, and when he’d complied it had been overpoweringly erotic.

He didn’t think he was a sadist, because he didn’t want to hurt her. Or any girl. He wanted to give her hurt, for her pleasure, and to give her guidance, so she could relax for a while and let him lead, confident that he’d be doing it for her. 

So the thought of Yua, in the classroom’s storeroom, waiting for him to come and finish her caning, was a turn-on. Of course it was. 

Also, he liked fucking girls, or young women. And Yua had signalled in every possible way, and some he’d never have thought of himself, that she wanted him to fuck her. That, surely, he argued with himself, was a good thing. And so it was odd that he was determined that she wasn’t going to have him. 

He wondered about his motives. If he was a stickler for morality, he wouldn’t be living with Chiaki. Or tolerate her living with him. So was his determination without any moral basis? What if he simply wanted to disappoint her? Because he felt she was spoiled.

“Ah well,” he said aloud. He stood up and went to the storeroom, where temptation, intelligent, beautiful and ruthless, awaited.

Yua had prepared for his arrival, he found. She had removed her panties, which he’d taken halfway down her thighs, completely. They lay on the desk, on top of her school skirt, also removed. Yua was bent over that desk, his cane lying at her side. Her perfect little ass was bare raised, her breasts and face pressed down on to the desk’s hard wood.

Her thighs were parted, so he could consider the respective pleasures and potentials offered by her pussy and her tight little bud.

He said, “Yua, I…” He shook his head. He could see the side of her face. She had smiled. He said, “You want me to cane you and then fuck you, don’t you?”

“Hai, Sensei! Please.” She arched her bottom up just a little more. 

“Would you like it if I just caned you and didn’t fuck you?” 

The smirk was gone. “Oh no. That wouldn’t be nearly as good. That would be bad.” 

He took the cane from the desk then, and stood to her side. “Then that, my girl, is how it’s going to be.” 

And he swung the cane, hard. She knew that he was no longer fooled by the performance she’d made the first time he’d caned her. So when she yelped, surprised and stung, he took it as a compliment. And swung the cane again, aiming at the softer flesh of her lower buttocks.

She yowled, and her white socks left the floor, kicking in pain. She said, “You should do this. Beat me all the time when you fuck me, sensei.”

Seamus gave her four more strokes. She swore at each one, and offered to fuck him, and suck his cock. But each stroke branded her beautiful bottom, and he said nothing. But after the sixth stroke, Seamus said, “Get up, Yua.” 

“Hai, Sensei!” She raised herself from the desk using her hands. She turned to face him, her legs crossed, her pussy lightly, blackly furred, under the edge of her shirt. She said, “Would you like something, Sensei?” 

Seamus knew that they both knew what he’d like. He said, “Yua, you’re not wearing a bra, are you?”

She shook her head, wide-eyed. “Oh no, Sensei.”

“That’s a breach of school rules, and you know it. Take off that shirt.”

Seamus had told Yua to get up, now her caning was done. Yua stayed bent over the chair, staring up at him. He walked back to her, cane still in his hand, and smacked her bottom again. “Up, girl.”

She did not get up. She moved, slowly, voluptuously, from side to side after he’d smacked her striped bottom.

He wasn’t immune to her display, though he knew he wasn’t the only audience she was playing for.

He’d told the class to keep their eyes on their books, but he doubted if there were not a boy, or girl, in the classroom who wasn’t watching, though their heads were bent studiously down. Yua said, “I can’t get up, Sensei. I hurt too much. Could you help me?”

He said, in warning, “Yua.” But he reached down to take her by the shoulder. She grabbed his hand in both of hers, and pulled it to her face. Her mouth opened and she took his thumb, sucking, then running her tongue slowly from the tip to the flesh of his hand. He smiled, realising he had been trapped.

That action, with her mouth on his thumb, had made him a promise. A promise of great promise. There was no doubt that she would suck his cock with great enthusiasm and skill. Of course he wanted that, and at the same time he wanted her not to have whatever she wanted. Including him.

He withdrew his thumb, now wet, and pulled her up, stopping her from pressing her body against his once she was upright. 

“Stand in the corner, Yua. Hands on head, until this class is over. It seems you need another lesson.”

“Hai, sensei.” Another lesson was fine with her. She walked, skirt swishing, to the corner, and took up her position, nose in the corner. 

He hadn’t asked her to, but she lifted her skirt, to display her pantied bottom, stripes emerging from both sides of her panties. She was enacting The Schoolgirl in Disgrace.

 She was a poor English student, but she could supplement her inadequacy at that language with other kinds of communication. Snd, he knew, she usually got what she wanted.

Still, Seamus switched his attention away from her and her challenges with something like relief. He called on one of the brighter boys to explain the passage he’d just read.The boy said, “Hai, sensei. The passage I read … It was on page 148… Ah,” Seamus realised the boy hadn’t read it, and that he was embarrassed by his own reaction to Yua’s display.

Seamus stared at him, giving him long enough to wonder if he was next to go over that chair. At last he said, “Pay attention, from now on. That was a warning.” The boy swallowed, and nodded.

He heard an amused sound from Yua, behind him. He ignored it.

The rest of that day’s class was uneventful. Yua sometimes opened her legs to flash her panties and inner thighs at him, but he ignored that. If it got worse he’d deal with it.

School life travelled smoothly for a while. In the next couple of weeks he found sometimes had to repeat the lesson, with some of the rowdier boys. At least they presented him with no temptations when they presented their backsides for the cane.

But a few weeks after the first time he’d caned her, Yua brought no homework and squirmed voluptuously, standing beside his desk. Seamus said, “Well? Homework?”

“I’m sorry, sensei. I did it, so well. But on my way to school today there was a dog. It chased me and I dropped my homework. I went back later, but …”

Seamus looked up at her, in disbelief. “The dog ate your homework?”

“Hai, sensei.”

In a way he was impressed. It was a traditional Western excuse, but not a Japanese one. She must have done at least some reading in English. But he said, “A dog did not eat your homework, Yua. I warned you about stupid excuses. Fetch a chair, and bend over it. Bottom facing the class, so they can see you being punished.”

So Yua walked to her desk, still squirming with every step, knowing he couldn’t help but watch her, picked up the chair and returned. She bent tightly over the chair. As an afterthought, she lifted her skirt above her waist, so the cane would impact across neat, modest white panties. 

Seamus gave her one hard smack across that poised target with his hand. She wiggled, knowing she was a temptation. Then he walked to the hook on the wall from which the cane hung, in warning to all his students. He lifted it, walked back and stood a little to her side. He lined the cane across Yua’s bottom, then lifted it. He turned to face the class.

They gazed, unblinking, the girls mostly at him and the boys mostly at Yua’s plumply perfect bottom. He said, “Take out your book and turn to page 148. If I see anyone watching, they’ll come up and get the same.”

There was a sudden flurry, books being removed from satchels and placed open on the desk. All eyes were on page 148.

He said, “If you disrupt lessons, if you don’t do your work, if you are insolent like this silly girl, this is what you get.” And then he swung the cane down, hard across tight panties.The sound was loud enough to make several of them wince, and even Yua gave a little grunt.

She was no longer making a performance of being caned. She knew that he knew she’d been acting. Still, she squealed when she received the fourth and sixth strokes, so he knew he was reaching her.

She’d expected to take just six strokes in front of the other students, before he gave her more in the storeroom after class.

She made a sound of genuine grief when he gave her the seventh stroke and she realised he wasn’t stopping at six. After she’d taken ten strokes, with bright red cane-lines showing at the edge of the panties, he said, “That’ll do, Yua. For now. Get up.”

Yua looked at him, still bent over. Imploring. She put her skirt back into place, disappointing some of the boys and, Seamus had to admit, him too. But she did not move.