Redemption

Beth jerked when the bell sounded, startled out of her reverie. She slowly reached to gather her purse and books. Deep in thought, she trailed behind the other students, walking the length of the hallway in a near trance. Nearing the vice-principal’s office, she took a sudden detour into the girl’s bathroom and quickly hid in one of the stalls. Resting her forehead against the cool tiled wall, she shut her eyes and sighed shakily.

Four times she’d returned to his office. Four times, she was held captive over his lap, and brought swiftly to helpless tears. The sting lasted the duration of each class, made worse by the hard chairs she’d never thought of as cruel before today.

Only the last time, the last trip, she’d felt something else. Something mingling with the pain. Surrounding it. Dulling it. She’d still cried. Still squirmed to avoid his hand – despite her promise to lie dociley across his lap. But a warmth had seeped in, a brief surge of excitement, a familiar tug. The urge to touch herself, intimately, afterwards had stunned her, causing her to spend very little time focused on the teacher or teachings in her last class of the day, and the majority of the time on dark fantasies about her punisher.

She’d die, absolutely die, if she reached orgasm over his knee. Die if he knew her body responded in such an inappropriate way.

She moved a hand slowly under her skirt and down the front of her silk panties, touching her already swollen sex. Moving her fingers quickly and lightly, she hoped - with quick release - the urge would disappear. Her left hand splayed out on the tiled wall as her hips moved rhythmically against her hand. Thinking of his dark eyes that seemed to see past her defenses, his powerful slaps that forced her to feel, his muscled thigh pressing against her intimately, she came quietly with a low moan.

When her breathing turned steady, she tidied up, and moved quickly to his office.

He was sitting on the edge of his desk, arms crossed, foot tapping, when she arrived.

“You’re late.” His deep voice and steady look sent color to her face.

“I had to run by the restroom, sir.” She lowered her eyes, terrified he would see more than she cared to share.

He remained silent while she set her belongings in a chair, and moved hesitantly to stand before him. Without a word, she hooked her thumbs around the elastic band of her panties and let them fall.

Lifting her chin with a gentle hand, he studied her briefly before murmuring, “Good girl.”

The mild praise sent an inexplicable thrill through her and she nearly smiled before she was snagged by the waist and pulled across his lap. The cool air on her naked skin reminded her all too soon of her plight.

“Count.” His flat tone nearly caused her to whimper.

“One.” The open handed blow landed firmly and loudly, causing her to flinch.

“Two.” Blood rushed immediately to the offended area, made tender by frequent abuse.

“Three.” Another stinging slap brought instant heat but, curiously, seemed less painful than before.

“Four. Five. Six.” She flinched with each blow, but somehow didn’t seem to mind. In fact …

“Seven.” His voice intoned with a heavier slap, forcing a gasp. Shutting her eyes against the sudden rush of warmth to her groin, she bit back a moan.

“Eight.” He continued at her silence, curious at the change in her response.

“Nine. Ten.” By this count last time, he’d heard her cry. She couldn’t possibly be numb. He could see her start with each smack. Perhaps he needed to increase speed. And velocity.

“Eleven!” Smack! Smack! A quick, heavy slap to each pink cheek followed by …

“Twelve!” Smack! Smack!

“Thirteen!” Smack! Smack!

The sharp, quick blows were falling without pause, peppering every inch of her exposed ass, as she turned and twisted to avoid them. Judging from the increasing sounds of dismay emitting from her, he knew he’d managed to get her complete attention. But something felt off, and softening his blows, he forgot to count as he studied her redden, rounded flesh, watched her squirming movements, and suddenly, it hit him. The musky scent of her arousal. Her movements – subtle, sensual, alluring.

Standing suddenly, he caught her around the mid-drift and twisted her to press up against him, holding her slender wrists in one hand behind her back, and tilting her head back with a handful of hair. His penetrating eyes bore into hers, taking in the drooping lids, labored breathing, flushed cheeks.

Pinned to him, forced to meet his eyes, she felt her heart beating rapidly in her chest, and thought she’d melt under his piercing gaze.

“This changes things.” He spoke slowly, softly, with a faint frown.

“What? What do you mean?” Her forced her reply through numb lips. The entire length of her body warmed at the contact of his long, lean form. Her heated ass burned slowly, a softer fire than the heat currently coursing through her veins, converging at the apex of her thighs. She fought the almost overpowering urge to rub herself against him like a cat in heat.

Leveling her with a look, he raised a brow. “You’re enjoying this.”

His words sent a flush across her cheeks as she shook her head to deny it.

Moving his lips to her ear, he murmured deeply, “I can tell.”

“No.” The word barely left her mouth when his right hand dropped to ride up her bare thigh and caress her naked, heated flesh. When he squeezed and pressed her forward to straddle his thigh, she emitted a low moan and shut her eyes.

Taking in her flushed, features, her open, inviting mouth, he smiled secretly. “Might as well get this out of the way.”

Releasing her wrists, he ran both hands under her skirt, gripped her hips and pulled her further off the ground to rock against his thigh. When her toes left the ground, she grabbed blindly for his shoulders and hung on as his hands guided her, controlled her, rocked her to her peak. His lips caught her low-throated moan as it rose to a helpless cry, and lowered her to the ground, ending the kiss, when her shudders calmed.

His hands remained cupped under her ass, and as the endorphins fled, uncomfortably reminded her of the tenderness of the skin. Squirming away from him, she dropped to the ground to retrieve her panties and hide the blush that bloomed on her face.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He quietly asked.

“Uhmm. Leaving.” She stood, silk crushed in one fist, staring at his shoes.

“We’re not finished.”

Her head snapped up and she stared at him, wide-eyed and speechless.

“My intent is that you leave me – each time – thoroughly spanked. Not thoroughly sated.”

He watched her blush deepen. Sitting on the edge of his desk once more, he stated flatly, “Let’s try this again, shall we?”

“Ohhh.” She whispered in embarrassment.

Stepping to him, she avoided his eyes as he placed her once more across his strong thigh.

Kyle looked at her rounded, flesh, his handprints recognizable but fading, and decided something brief but shocking was in order. Opening a drawer, he pulled out the light paddle reserved for recalcitrant females and lifted it.

Smack! The paddle cracked loudly, startling her. Before the sting fully formed, it landed again, forcing a cry and creating an enormous burning sensation. Six times he struck her, in quick succession, for the shock value and the pain he knew she needed. Setting down the paddle, he held her across his knee until her cries subdued, knowing the fear of another smack added to her humiliation. Knowing she needed – had specifically asked for – retribution. When he released her, she stood, eyes streaming before him, as shocked as she had been the first time he’d spanked her. She nearly forgot her orgasm. His kiss. Nearly, but not quite.

“One visit. Before your first class. Behave and you’ll only feel my hand on you. Misbehave – and by that I mean come to me even the smallest bit sexually excited – and you’ll feel this paddle. Do you understand?”

His words, his tone, but mostly his look, kept her from asking, but she thought it. Loudly.

Will you touch me again, make me come, if I misbehave? And wincing at the throbbing pain she was currently experiencing, wondered if it would be worth it.

Deciding a quick escape was her best bet, she murmured, “Yes, sir,” picked up her things and fled. She had the entire night ahead of her to analyze this. The entire night to think of him. Remember him. Fantasize about him.

She wondered if he’d think about her.