Authors comments:
This story is based on a fantasy of mine and was my first ever attempt. I’ve started writing almost 8 years later and dearly wanted to share this.
And so it began….
I am eighteen again, with two long braids in my hair, I look like Pippy Longstocking. Looking down I’m amazing to find myself in my old school uniform. Even eight years on, school is still not a happy memory. Dread clutches at my gut, is this some weird time warp? Some horrible prank that has brought me back to this hated place and time? Walking along the sickly green hall towards the head teacher’s office – the horrid Mr Hammond, I drag my feet now, just like then. Clad again in knee-length socks and patent leather shoes with shiny buckles, my heart is racing. Damn it, sweety palms – so nervous. I smooth them on my pleated, grey skirt. Just like I remember. Going to the head teacher’s office always made me nervous.
I knock once and enter. He is waiting for me. A weightysilence falls suddenly, like a fog, there’s only he and I in this world. The sterile office with only sturdy furniture and its equally sterile occupied dressed in typical tweed – a stereotype of the head teacher’s suit. God, I loathe him! He stars at me from behind steel-rimmed glasses and gestures me to sit. Before I know it, he’s standing over me, tall, masculine and intimidating. I swallow nervously. Looking up at him as he reads out the charges. Silently I scream that it’s all untrue, but some small part of me wants to be punished … by him.
He leans closer. I can smell his fear but masked male scent. I inhale deeply, and a ticking beings down there, between my thighs. Now, the verdict. I am to receive six of the best…on my bottom. A sharp pang of excitement shots from my throat to my warming pussy. My skin tingles as he turns the lock with a heavy click and clinically selects a wooden ruler from a drawer in his desk. He looks so cold and forbidding. Not a hint of warmth on his youthful face, but he must sense my dread and my excitement. Surely he can see my arousal radiating from my now damp panties like a heat wave. I rise awkwardly and lean over the edge of his desk. The throbbing accelerates as he comes up behind me. In his clipped, dry tones, he information me he is now raising my skirt as the punishment must be administratored bare bottomed.
My mind is churning feverishly. He’ll see my wet knickers and guess immediately that I am aroused. A cool breeze on my thighs tells me its too late. A large hand on my arse chefs warms my tingling flesh for a moment, before drawing down my virginal white panties. Shame washes over me – the picture I must present. I can see clearly in my minds eye…the contrast of the white panties against my chocolate brown thighs, all framed by my pushed up skirt. Still he shows no sign of excitement, he must smell me by now! I can. I know my lower lips are damp with intimate fluid, making the short, sparse hairs glistenand my face redden with shame.
All at once, a whooshing sound is followed by a sharp, tingly sensing…it hurts for a few seconds. Then before it can fade to a warm glow, another falls…then another until my bottom radiates heat. My insides clnch. My pussy spasms, releasing a trickle of liquid. This time, he reacts. Thick fingers part my outer lips and slip into my warm slit. A thumb probes my ticking clip as a forefinger makes gentle forays into my puffy inner lips. I’m in shock for a million second, then instinctively, I push back against the invasion. Gasping and bucking, I understand on his fingers, but he continues to move them in unhurried circles. In my mind I’m begging him to go faster, harder, please!
But he continues to tease, those light unhurried strokes inflaming more than they soothed. His other hand traces the growing welts, I could swear he is awe, enthralled by the sight of my bruised bottom. A groan rumbles up from deep in my chest, the sound seems to jolt him out of his reverie. More fingers now…stretching me so well, I’m trembling as I feel those unmistakable quivers gather and grow. For a moment, I am suspended at the eye of the storm, then I exploit in a frenzy of spasms, don’t stop, yes, yes, yes…. I wake up in my own grown-up bed with my fingers buried as far as they will go, wonderful…
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