Dealing with Emma

A photo-story from Blushes Uniform Girls 2.02. It’s the first of a two-parter featuring one of the prettiest girls to appear in Blushes and the story features the usual Blushes staple of a girl unfairly abused by the men in power around her.

She glances up at the wall clock. The second hand is climbing, it is just coming up to quarter to five. Mr Stangate will be here at any moment. Emma’s bottom gives a little quiver. Sitting at the desk she is conscious of her tight navy knickers, taut to her round bottom, and the hard wooden seat underneath. The desk in the centre of the front row. Immediately in front of the blackboard, which still displays the cause of her being here. The chalked contours of a promontory. Which when asked she had said she thought was someone’s foot. Well it seemed funny at the time, everyone had laughed.  Except Mr Stangate. And Mr Stangate could have the last laugh of course. Having her in here after school…

Emma bites her lip. Her ripe bottom twitching again. It doesn’t seem such a funny joke now, all alone in this sodding classroom when she could be walking home, with Angela and Susan. And Paul. Don’t think about Paul, she doesn’t want to get excited. Not if Mr Stangate is going to…

She shivers again. Is he going to do…  any of that? It could be lines. Writing lines. Awful, but not in the same class as the other. Making her take her knickers down. Is he going to do that? Well he did before. That time, a month ago, when she was cheeky. She should have learnt her lesson. Angela says Mr Stangate fancies her. Giggling. ‘He fancies your bottom, Emma!’

Biting that full lower lip again. Feeling the hard narrow seat under her bottom and the backs of her thighs. In her short pleated grey skirt the tops of her under-thighs, the top inch or so of bare flesh directly below her knickers, are in direct contact with the hard wood. It is the same all day of course when you are wearing a very short skirt, but somehow now, with what she is waiting for, she is extra conscious of it. A whole lot more conscious of it. The reason is that she knows Mr Stangate isn’t going to be interested in making her do lines or anything. No, it is going to be that part of her in unpleasant contact with the desk’s narrow wooden seat. Emma’s shivery, sensitive bottom. Which Angela, giggling, says Mr Stangate fancies. He will make her take her knickers down…

----//----

lt is 4:45 but Edward Stangate is not in a great hurry. It is no bad thing to keep a girl waiting. Waiting for it. There is time to mark one more book. If he can concentrate and not think of the waiting Emma. In Room 3 along at the end of the corridor. Room 3 is a spare classroom, not currently in use and is a convenient place to park a girl if you want to be undisturbed with her.

Yes, succulent Emma Simway with the bright brown eyes and ripe bee-stung lips. Ripe in other places too; those full, firm tits in her tight white school blouse, and her hips and bottom. Angela Manding is quite correct of course in her assessment of Mr Stangate. Girls’ bottoms do have a powerful attraction for him and Emma’s is just about the most attractive of the lot. Full and firm, tick-tocking under that short skirt when you walk behind her… It is Emma’s bottom which is most likely to deflect his mind from the exercise book in front of him. The thought of it, quivering a little under that abbreviated uniform skirt. In the regulation tight navy knickers which the Head stipulates as part of school uniform. Some of the bigger girls of course, Emma’s age, do see fit, for their own or their boyfriends pleasure, to wear something different, something more racy, but it is strictly against regulations. Could Emma have by any chance, today?

Edward Stangate forces his mind with difficulty back onto the pupil’s laboured efforts. Get through it quickly, he really doesn’t want to wait much longer. He can feel a certain tingling. And indeed a certain incipient tumescence…

----//----

It is 4.50 when the door abruptly opens. She gives a little start. A slightly dreamy feeling has been building up, while the minutes have slowly circled round, that maybe for some reason he is not coming. The thought has come that maybe she can wait a little longer and then sneak out. Out of this claustrophobic room, and out of school. With her knickers still in place. Her bottom unpunished. The thought rising up in her, like intoxicating champagne bubbles. But now dashed, by this familiar, scary sight. Mr Stangate’s tall figure, made even taller by his long black gown. That familiar face with the glasses and trimmed beard. 

He produces a benign smile. ‘Ah Emma. I’m not late l hope. I would not wish to keep such a pretty girl waiting. Such a witty girl too, eh, with her little jokes!’

Emma mumbles something. She is still coming down from the exhilarating belief that Mr Stangate wasn’t coming. Coming down with a thud. Beneath the desk top her legs are trembling. Legs that are bare from mid-thigh down to the white ankle socks which she is wearing with shiny black high heels. The Head permits a girl in the Sixth Form to wear high heels, as long as she is not on report or anything. But now, cornered by Mr Stangate, Emma would much prefer to be wearing something less distinctive. Ordinary flat heels. And definitely not such a short skirt. Although if he is going to do it, what she thinks he is going to do, it doesn’t really matter if her skirt is short or long.

He comes to stand close by the side of her. ‘No more witty jokes then, Emma? Well would our witty girl please stand up?’

She stumbles to her feet, pushing up the hinged seat of the desk as she does so. Mr Stangate has moved back a step. His hand grips her arm, to pull her out into the narrow aisle between the lines of desks. He moves in close behind her. ‘Stand up straight then. Shoulders back.’  Hands grip her upper arms, pulling them back. She gives a little whimper. Standing now with her quite big tits thrust out in the white cotton blouse, ripe fruit on either side of the striped school tie.

‘That’s more like it. Good posture, Emma. And stick those nice big things out, eh?’

He is very close behind, his voice in her ear, and his hands now slide round. To lightly cup under her tits. She whimpers again. He is not supposed to do that of course. Touch you. Feel you up. But he would only deny it if you complained. Susan Hanley complained about Mr Finfield touching her and merely got a caning from the Head. Mr Finfield persuaded him she was just troublemaking.

The hands come away. And one hand is then there, at Emma’s bottom. Just lightly touching.

‘So Emma dear. We must have something for our little witticism, mustn’t we? Our rather disruptive little jest. I could say lines but that would be boring for you and boring for me. Whereas if l were to say take your knickers down, that wouldn’t be boring for either of us. Would it?’

Mr Stangate moved back a few inches to give himself room. One hand then lifting her short skirt. Allowing the other to get at her bottom in just her knickers. Finger and thumb give the flesh on the underside of the right cheek a sharp pinch.

A staccato yelp.

‘Would it, Emma’

 Finger and thumb deliver another  painful pinch. This time she manages a squealed ‘No!’ There is no point trying to argue, or plead. He is going to do it. She knew he was going to do it.

A fondle this time at her trembling bum. ‘Get up on the desk then. Kneeling on the seat. And bending right over.’

With her bottom still smarting from those two pinches Emma does what she has to do. It’s the same as last time. She puts the seat back down  and gets up on it. Her shins painfully on the unyielding wood with her feet in the high heels through the space at the back. Then leaning forward to grip the far edge of the desk top and lie her upper body across it. She can feel Mr Stangate immediately flipping her pleated skirt up over her back. His hand lightly smacks her tightly knickered bottom.

‘Stick it out then, Emma. Out and up.’

Groaning, she complies.

‘That’s better. Mmm. Well, at least we’re wearing regulation knickers. Lucky for you, eh? Because I’m sure you don’t always.’

Emma stammers that she does, although she doesn’t always of course.  Sometimes it is something more fancy. But that is risky. Non-regulation knickers can get you sent to the Head. And then it can be a caning.

Mr Stangate says serenely, ‘Don’t tell lies, Emma.’ His hand softly smacks her bottom again. Then both hands move up to the knickers’ elastic waistband. Fingers and thumbs fastidiously proceed to slide her knickers down. Right down to bare the silky-fleshed globe of her bottom. Mr Stangate gives a little cough. His hand pats the nude flesh. It is not only Emma’s bottom which is now displayed. In her bending position with her hips elevated as instructed,  there is her cunt too. The folds of the outer lips between the ripely curving bottom-cheeks. That little cough again. Edward Stangate can’t stop his hand going there. To lightly cup Emma’s exposed sex. One fingertip gently inserts itself between those inviting looking lips. The bending girl whimpers.

‘You’re getting to be a big girl,’ he tells her softly. The finger slides further in. ‘Quite a mature young woman.’  Sliding smoothly out and then in again. ‘But you have to behave like one, and not make silly jokes in class. Mmm?’ He finally withdraws his finger. His hand caresses her cunt. Emma whimpers again. She can feel she has become wet. Her flesh tingling. And with this incipient arousal, when shortly he  does what he is going to do it is going to feel a lot worse.

Mr Stangate removes his hand. There is of course business to attend to. Emma’s bottom, not her cunt.

He moves round in front of her. From his pocket or somewhere he has produced his strap. That wicked length of heavy double leather, stitched at the handle and again at the end. He holds it up. She doesn’t want to look at it, or at Mr Stangate for that matter.

‘Are we ready then. Emma? Feeling nice and brave. A big girl.’

She meets his eye and quickly looks away. She can feel her eyes moistening, like her cunt. She wants to say: Go on, play with me as much as you want. Just don’t give me that bloody strap. But she knows he is going to do it. He wants to do it. The pleasure of having her rolling and writhing over the desk. And yelling out. Because Mr Stangate doesn’t really want her to be brave. He wants her to be crying. The tears flooding out. And they are there already, threatening. She takes a deep breath, furiously blinking. He smiles. Holding the strap out to her. ‘Give it a little kiss then. Before it kisses your bottom.’

More blinking. He has got her all emotional alright. Emma can already feel the sickening sting of that bloody strap. She wants to refuse this silly game but can’t. Letting her ripe lips touch the leather.

He laughs. ‘A nice big sexy kiss…’

And then moves round behind her again. To commence the business. ‘Keep it still then, Emma. Can you do that? This lovely bottom nice and still. Because if there’s too much rolling around I shall have to give you repeat strokes. You know that.’

She waits, heart thudding. Remembering all too clearly what it was like last time. The worst thing she has ever experienced, that is what it was like. Possibly the cane is worse than the strap, girls who have had both say that, but Emma has never had to go to the Head for a caning so she doesn’t know. She doesn’t want to know. She would rather not know about the strap either but unfortunately she does. That time before. And now…

It whips stunningly in, transversely across both flinching nates. A devastating kiss to the bare flesh. She has been expecting it but it is a bombshell nonetheless, the shock shooting Emma’s mouth open, expelling her held breath in a frantic yell. She forces herself to hang onto the desk edge. While her bottom jerks, writhes. Well, it is impossible to keep it still, regardless of Mr Stangate’s warning.

The strap whips in again. And again. Emma yelling. Her bottom rolling and writhing as she tries to cope with the strap’s hot sting. No, she is definitely not keeping it still but Edward Stangate is not too surprised, or concerned. The yells, those frantic writhings, are after all a clear sign that the strap is doing its job. That darling Emma is feeling it. Although nonetheless he will give her a few extra ones.

----//----

The next afternoon, right after the lunch break. Emma is told the Head wants to see her. Oh Christ! This tends to be the usual reaction, you assume you are in some trouble or other. Mr Anlett of course is supposedly the only one allowed to cane girls and there is always that little thought in your head when you  knock on his door. That perhaps you have done something, even though you might not be able to think of it for the moment, that Mr Anlett considers deserving of a caning. Actually the Head, who is fortyish, and in appearance a bit like Mr Stangate without the beard, can be quite pleasant. But even when he is… you can still have that thought of the cane in the back of your mind.

There doesn’t seem to be any suggestion of the cane on this occasion. But nevertheless, as it turns out, it is not exactly an enjoyable visit. Mr Anlett has called her in to see him about the strapping she had yesterday from Mr Stangate. It seems there is a new ruling, from the chairman of the governors. There is a new chairman this year, a Mr Vengrove. And Mr Vengrove wishes to see girls who have been caned or strapped.

‘He considers it is part of the job. To ensure no undue… ah violence… has been perpetrated. To confirm for himself that a girl hasn’t received any possible injury.’ The Head smiled. ‘Not that there is likely to be of course. Not at all. A normal strapping, or a caning, will never cause any injury. Indeed I believe some girls can find such attentions stimulatory.’

Emma cannot believe the possibility of a caning ever being stimulatory, but of course doesn’t say so. Standing in front of Mr Anlett’s desk, she is trying to take in what he has said about Mr Vengrove. It is the first time she has heard any mention of it.

‘So he’d like you to go round to his home after school this afternoon, Emma. It’ll be no problem I’m sure. It will be nice for you to meet Mr Vengrove. But anyway with that in mind, I thought it would be a good idea if I also checked. To be on the safe side.’

Mr Anlett was getting up from behind his desk. Emma could feel herself flushing. He wanted her to take her knickers off, and then bend over his desk. He was going over to the door. Locking it… 

She tries to protest. Pleading that it isn’t necessary. Not at all. Well it felt pretty devastating at the time (Emma doesn’t say that to Mr Anlett) but you do soon recover. But the Head smilingly dismisses her objections. He agrees with what she is saying, and of course Mr Stangate would only strap a girl very gently (Emma feels like protesting vehemently about that!). But it is simply a routine matter. This new ruling from the chairman. So will Emma please take her knickers off.

Fortunately she is wearing the regulation ones. There was the temptation this morning to put on a rather more saucy pair, to help her forget yesterday’s session with Mr Stangate and also because she is seeing boyfriend Paul after school. Or rather was, because now it seems she has to go round to Mr Vengrove’s house…

Emma unhappily slides her knickers down and steps out of them. Mr Anlett pushes her down over the front of his desk. Then pulls her skirt right up, over her back. There is no sign of maltreatment. Emma’s ripe bottom, the firm cheeks trembling slightly, is pristine and uninjured. This is of course as expected, Stephen Anlett only wished to cover himself as he stated. Yes, but as well as that it was an excellent opportunity to get Emma to take her knickers down. Because she is such a lovely girl, with that lovely, quite womanly shape. Yes, an opportunity to make her take her knickers downs and get his hand on her bare bottom. Which he now does. 

‘Everything seems alright.’ he says. Is his voice shaking slightly? With emotion. Excitement. His hand is gently fondling.

‘The strap didn’t… get in here..?’ His hand has slid in underneath, and is pushing between Emma’s upper thighs. It is at her cunt in fact.

‘I know Mr Stangate would be very careful…’

‘No..!’  Emma half gasps. ‘No… it didn’t…’ But Mr Anlett doesn’t want to stop of course. Not now his fingers are right there.

‘We must always be especially careful of a girl’s private-most parts,’  he murmurs. His trembling fingers are parting the outer lips. 

----//----

After school the Head drives Emma over to Mr Vengrove’s place, a substantial house with a large garden on the edge of town. Mr Vengrove will drive her home when he has finished with her. Parking his car in the driveway Mr Anlett helps himself to a squeeze of Emma’s thigh. He is feeling a little emotional, remembering with great pleasure his own examination of the lovely girl earlier in the afternoon, and with the knowledge that Mr Vengrove now intends to enjoy something very similar. Stephen Anlett is thinking that he will have to find another excuse to have her in his office in the near future. It would be very nice of course to find an excuse to cane her…

Emma naturally is unaware of these stirring thoughts buzzing around in the Headmasters head. She too can remember what he did earlier, though, and all too vividly. And from what she can make out she is going to get more of the same, or similar, from the chairman of the governors. It is not at all a nice prospect. 

Mr Anlett tells Emma not to be nervous, and to be on her very best behaviour because she is in effect representing the school. And of course to do exactly what Mr Vengrove wants. Emma naturally is nervous. Is Mr Anlett nervous too? He doesn’t really know what Mr Vengrove wants, not in any detail, and if there is any problem no doubt it would be thrown back at him. At Mr Vengrove’s front door, after ringing the bell, the Head slides his hand up the front of Emma’s skirt, to squeeze her pussy. Is this nervousness? Or maybe simply that he can’t resist it?

Opening the door, Mr Vengrove says, ‘Ah,  lovely to see you, my dear.’ He confirms that he will drive Emma home, so the Head can depart. The chairman of governors is somewhat older than Mr Anlett and Mr Stangate, with smooth grey hair and grey eyes that have gone keenly over his pretty young visitor. Emma is led in, and is briefly greeted by Mrs Vengrove too, but then that lady discreetly disappears. Emma is conducted through into Mr Vengrove’s study. He offers her a drink: sherry, lemonade, orange juice? She wonders if maybe Mr Anlett would not approve of the sherry, but politely asks for that anyway.

And then Mr Vengrove is keen to get on with the main purpose of the visit. He wants to know about the strapping in other words. He wants to have the details. How exactly Mr Stangate went about it. Sitting in one of his big leather armchairs and nervously taking sips of her drink, Emma has to give a full account. Well pretty full, she doesn’t go into details about what Mr Stangate’s fingers did to her pussy.

Mr Vengrove says, ‘As long as there were no after effects. That is what I need to be happy about. No injuries. If a strapping is administered properly, with due care and attention, it does no harm. Indeed it can be very beneficial. A caning too. No harm if properly carried out. Don’t you agree, Emma?’

Emma says, ‘Er, yes sir…’ Not really  agreeing that a strapping can he good for you, and certainly not the cane. But she has to agree. Agree with everything Mr Vengrove said. Mr Vengrove, sitting opposite is looking with considerable interest at her knees and thighs. A substantial part of the latter is on display of course when seated in her short uniform skirt. Mr Anlett, when she anxiously asked him, said he didn’t really know, but yes, Mr Vengrove might well have in mind taking her knickers down. She takes a somewhat unguarded gulp of her drink, which causes her to cough.

Mr Vengrove gets up. He says she should take her cardigan off. It’s warm, isn’t it? Emma says yes. It is warm in this quite small room which is his study. She stands up, Mr Vengrove wants to get a better view of her tits, that is really why he wants her cardigan off. He tells her to stand up straight. Pull her shoulders back. Stick her tits out in other words.

Emma does have nice big ones of course, for 17. Mr Stangate likes them, and other masters do as well. Also her boyfriend Paul of course, he is very keen on Emma’s nice thrusting tits. 

‘You’ve a very lovely figure,’ Mr Vengrove murmurs. Moving round behind her and then his hands come round. To gently cup her tits in the white blouse. She has just a light bra underneath, for reasons of modesty rather than for any need of support. Mr Vengrove squeezes them softly.

‘I expect you have a boyfriend?’ his muted voice queries. Emma says a nervous yes. 

‘And doing it yet? Intercourse?’

She shakes her head. ‘Very good,’ Mr Vengrove approves. ‘A girl shouldn’t be in any hurry. Concentrate on her studies.’ He gives her tits another squeeze and then lets go. 

‘Anyway I suppose we should get on with our business. Can you take your knickers off. So I can do my little check.’

There it is! She knew it. Emma feels a flutter of panic. What is Mr Vengrove going to want when he  has her knickers off? Well it could be anything. And whatever it is she must meekly comply with according to Mr Anlett. She wants to say she can’t take her knickers off, but she can’t say that either of course. 

With Mr Vengrove standing close in front of her Emma reaches up under her short skirt. She can feel her face flushing. This is the second time today of course. The navy knickers sliding down her shapely bare legs. Then first one and then the other of her high-heeled shoes uncertainly lifted. Finally passing the flimsy garment into Mr Vengrove’s waiting hand.

With the knickers thrust in his pocket, he straightaway has his hand up Emma’s brief skirt, at her bare bottom. Fondling the warm and sumptuous cheeks. 

‘Yes, certainly a lovely figure, Emma.’ There seems to be an extra eager edge to his voice now, ‘Fit and shapely I should say. Do you do any sport?’

Emma, feeling herself trembling, mentions tennis. Mr Vengrove murmurs approval. His hand is very busy behind her. Then: ‘I know. Why don’t you do a handstand for me. Just to show what a fit and athletic girl you are!’

Emma can’t believe it. A handstand! And of course she has no knickers on. Well, probably that is the object of the exercise. No!

‘No, please…’ Emma begs. She pleads that she doesn’t even think she can do a handstand. But Mr Vengrove is sure she can. Anyway she can certainly try. Yes, right here on the carpet in the centre of the room. He will hold her legs to steady her… 

Somehow Emma manages to do the handstand. With Mr Vengrove’s help of course. Oh yes, he is a big help. Grabbing first one leg and then the other as they swing up. And pulling her up into a more or less vertical position. Her skirt has naturally swung down. Stayed down, in respect of gravity, but swung right up in respect of its now upside-down wearer. And of course there is nothing underneath the skirt except Emma herself. Mr Vengrove is holding her legs from behind. He lets them slither open.

----//----

It wasn’t very nice. Not nice at all. Emma’s face is bright scarlet when once again she is standing on her feet rather than her hands, and that glowing colour is not all due to having been upside-down. She tries not to think about it. As for Mr Vengrove, considerably aroused by that thrilling episode, he is very keen to move on to yet more exciting ideas which are bombing around in his head. First of all there is this minute and detailed examination of Emma’s rear, the stated objective of her visit. And then he rather thinks he might like to give her a spanking himself. A bare bottom spanking over his lap. As an aid to this disciplinary business which is so beneficial if carried out in the proper manner…

To be continued…