Taking The Punishment

September 1, 2007 – 10:00 am

I was very nervous as I waited outside the principal’s office.  It was like
being back in school myself.  My name is Sheila Hennessey and I was
thirty-one years old that cold November afternoon.  I’d been summoned to
school because my son, Grant, had gotten into a fight and was going to be
suspended, or possibly expelled.
 
I sat there wishing, for the ten-thousandth time, that my husband, James,
hadn’t gotten himself killed in a stupid accident while driving drunk.  I
wished I was younger and prettier and had a husband to help me.  I’d looked
at myself in the mirror before leaving the office.  I was still attractive
but I had a streak of gray in my brown hair and new lines around my eyes.
 
I was wearing a new suit with a fashionably short skirt.  I blessed my
mother’s genes for ensuring that I had the legs to wear it.  After twenty
minutes I was ushered into the principals office.  Her name was Claire
Black and she was young, not quite thirty.  She was blonde and pretty and
confident.

She went over what had happened and said she really had no choice.  Grant
had to have at least a five-day suspension.  And, she added, she was leaning
toward expulsion.  I pleaded with her to let Grant stay in school.  I
explained my situation and she listened quietly.  When I was done she shook
her head.  “I’m sorry.  I understand your situation and I’m sympathetic but
there’s nothing I can do.  Unless …..”

I smiled eagerly.  “Unless?”

She shook her head.  “No, that would never work.”

“What?  What would never work?”

We were sitting in front of her desk, she’d taken the other visitor’s chair
rather than sit behind her desk.  She put her hand on my knee and said,
“Well, if you were to volunteer to take Grant’s punishment ……”

I stared at her, mystified.  Her hand was still on my knee.  “How?  I mean
how could you suspend me?”

She squeezed my knee.  “I can’t.  But I could punish you in some other way.
A spanking, maybe.”

Her hand slid up onto my thigh.  Our eyes met and locked.  A silent
agreement was reached.  I nodded.  “I’ll do anything to keep Grant in school.
Anything.”

She smiled.  “Good.  Come with me.”  We walked out of her office and down
the hall to an unmarked door.  She opened the door and ushered me in,
locking the door behind us.  The room was small, about 10′ square.  The only
items of furniture were a straight-backed wooden chair and an old vaulting
horse.

A selection of paddles, straps, and whips hung from hooks on one wall.  Ms.
Black glanced at me and said, “Remove your clothes, Mrs. Hennessey.”  I
hesitated for a moment and then swiftly undressed, thinking to get it over
with as soon as possible.

She had me bend over the vaulting horse after gagging me with a ball gag. 
She whipped me with a leather strap after deciding that I should take twenty
hard strokes.   I was determined not to cry.  That lasted for five strokes
and then I cried like a baby.  I didn’t move because she’d start the count
over if I did.  I cried and wiggled and by the time it was over I was
sobbing like a baby.

I straightened up and rubbed my sore ass, tears streaming down my face.  I
froze when she cupped my breasts and squeezed them gently.  “Ohhh, no! 
Please!”

She ignored me.  I stood there with my hands at my sides while she fondled
me.  I was wet when she slipped one hand between my legs.  I shook my head
back and forth and whispered, “Oh, please …..”

She smiled.  “Do you want me to stop?”

I dropped my eyes to the floor and whispered, “No, damn you!”

“What do you want?  Say it or I’ll stop right now.”  Her fingers were busy
teasing my clit and it felt wonderful.

I took a deep, sobbing breath.  “I want to cum.  God help me, but I want to
cum.  I want to be touched, hugged, kissed, but most of all I want to be
used and fucked and I want to cum.”

I sobbed as she masturbated me to orgasm.  She held me while I shivered and
shook, stroking my back and buttocks.  Then she kissed me, pushing her
tongue deep into my mouth.  I pressed myself against her, rubbing my nipples
against her silk shirt.  It felt wonderful!

Later, back in her office, I blushed and nodded when she told me she be
over later that night.  She walked me out to my car and told me I was a
pretty slut.  She leaned in like she was chatting with me but what she was
really doing was rubbing my clit through my panties.  My skirt was up around
my waist.  She brought me to orgasm again and I had to sit there for a
moment before I was calm enough to drive back to the office.

It’s almost five p.m. now.  She’ll be over at ten p.m.  I can’t wait. 
She’s right about one thing.  I am a slut.

The End