Redemption

Beth slept on her stomach that night, her mind churning with bewildering and erotic dreams. Just prior to waking up, she was dreaming she was naked against a cold, stone wall, wrists tied together and pulled above her head, her heart pounding in her ears. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him moving slowly towards her. Angry at her helpless position, she turned her head away from him and closed her eyes.

His deep voice sent heat through her center. “Open your eyes, Beth.”

Stubbornly, she ignored his request. After a tense silence, she felt his hands on her waist spinning her around to face the wall. One large hand dropped to cup her sex and pull her bottom half away from the wall, lightly lifting her to her toes. She held her breath, knowing she would feel his hard hand on her bare bottom any second, half excited, half fearful.

The slap jarred her senses and forced her to press forward into his cupped hand. His fingers curled around her, making her squirm restlessly as another wicked slap landed. He spanked her hard and fast, evidently with the intent on turning every inch of her buttocks bright red. As her skin warmed and then began to burn, she felt a wetness growing between her thighs and drip onto his fingertips. A small sob of mingled shame and pain escaped her.

The next sensation shocked her. His middle finger, large and thick, curled into her wetness and reached inside her, finding and pressing on a spot that caused her body to tighten up and hum. The jerking motion of her pelvis in reaction to the relentless spanking caused his hand and fingers to stimulate her both inside and out and as the feelings built to their peak, she tossed her head back and helplessly cried out with the strongest climax she’d ever had.

When her alarm went off, her body was still humming and covered in sweat.

Lifting her hands to her deep blush, she found herself praying her body wouldn’t be so cruel as to betray her the next time he touched her.

****************

Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday of the week flew by, each morning a study in self-control for her. She felt certain he never knew of her quick trips to the restroom throughout the day that helped relieve the sexual tension he built each morning with his brief, but thorough, punishment.

Now, Friday, she stood outside his door, searching for the nerve to knock. Hand raised in a fist, she tried to imagine what a normal spanking from him would feel like. She couldn’t imagine his hand falling any harder, and the 30 seconds was at times more than she could take. Stomach tightened in fear, she flinched when the door opened and stood frozen in his powerful gaze.

Raising his brows, he took in her pale, frightened countenance and guessed its cause. Stepping back he motioned her inside, before locking the door.

Pulling a straight backed chair from the front of his desk to the center of the room, he unbuttoned and began rolling up the sleeves to his white dress shirt, watching her dance from foot to foot, as her eyes roamed around the room, avoiding coming into contact with him.

“Are you nervous?” He politely asked.

Her eyes flew to his, round and brilliant with unshed tears.

“Yes,” she replied in a barely audible voice.

“Why?” His penetrating look seemed to bore through her eyes into her deepest thoughts.

“I .. I’m trying to imagine 15 minutes over your knee when I can barely handle 30 seconds.” Panic laced her tone.

He watched two tear drops fall to slide down her cheeks. “I never said anything about 15 minutes.”

Hopefully, she asked, “How long, then?”

“Until I decide to stop.” His bland tone bristled her nerves.

“Well, how long is that?” She frowned and stopped just short of stomping her foot.

Stepping towards her, he firmly gripped both shoulders and lowered his head to hold her gaze. “When your bottom is sore, throbbing and cherry red. When every breath you exhale comes out in a remorseful, tearful plea for me to stop. When I’m certain you’ll feel the sting until you lay down to sleep tonight, and it intrudes and colors your dreams.”

She felt the rush of color to her cheeks and dropped her eyes quickly.

“Or has it, already?” The question, posed quietly in his silky, deep-toned voice, caused her blush to deepen. When she attempted to pull away from him, he laughed softly, and tugged her over to the chair.

Sitting, he grasped her waist and forced her to fall forward across his knees.

With her hands and feet touching the floor, she felt her skirt lifted, followed by a quick tug on her panties that sent them to her knees. Somehow in this position, with her bare ass elevated, she felt more helpless than she had to date. His large hand pressing against her lower back kept her firmly in place, and she felt a sob catch in her throat before he had laid a hand on her.

Eyeing her fair skin speculatively, he began to pepper her rounded cheeks with light and stinging smacks, watching her skin tone turn slowly pink and her cries quiet down as she realized the pain was no where as bad as she’d anticipated. Minutes later, the blows began to land a little harder and quicker. Her skin – now tenderized – felt each slap magnified, and she felt the sting begin to build to a slow burn. Within moments, the pain became too much, and she squirmed desperately to avoid his hand. Aiming his hand carefully with each slap, he discovered new tender spots to attack, each connection of his hand forcing a shocked gasp and cry from her. Panic began to creep along her spine as she began to fear the spanking would never end.

“Pleeeeease … pleeeeease …. Please …… stop! STOP!” Her soft voice raised an octave and ended on a sob.

Ignoring her protests, he continued until he felt certain any further abuse would bruise her skin. Lifting her up, he turned and placed her sobbing in his arms, her cries escalating when her burning flesh rested on his strong thighs. With his arms around her, his hand gently rubbing her back, she made no effort to hold back and sobbed uncontrollably. The pain was overpowering, and merged with the feelings of remorse that rushed over her. She kept picturing her parents’ pale and terrified faces at the hospital, and the nervous way they tiptoed around her feelings afterwards. She’d done this to them. She’d caused them unbelievable mental pain.

As her cries grew stronger, he knew she was dealing with guilt up close and personal. Sometimes it took something shocking the senses to uncover the pain inside. And, from his experience, release it.

Long moments passed as he held her, rocking her like a child until her tears stopped and cries quieted. When the weight of her head against his chest became heavy, he knew she’d fallen asleep in exhaustion. Thankful for the small sofa by the window, he lifted and gently placed her to on the cushions, reaching and covering her with his jacket.

Walking to his desk, he buzzed the Administration office line. “Please inform Beth Sawyer’s first period teacher that she will be assisting the office this morning. Thank you.”

He quietly hung up the phone and sat down, tenting his fingers between his eyes to study her curled, sleeping form. Thoughts dark and forbidden brought a glint into his eyes, and sent blood rushing through his veins. There was something about her. Something challenging that brought out his baser instincts. Along with a strong urge to protect her. He hadn’t had these feelings in years. The thought kept him staring at her, lost in memory, long after the bell rang for the next class period.