Extra Curriculum

By Andrew Grantham from Janus 160

Wendy Baker, the Principal of St Priscilla’s, surveyed the just-bared bottom of the attractive eighteen-year-old bent over in front of her.

It was a delectably full bottom, perfectly ripe for the punishment which deservedly awaited it. The vale dividing the succulently-rounded buttocks was long and deep. Excellently-sculpted thighs supported Sophie Smith’s luscious rear.

The short-haired, blonde girl’s peach-shaped sex cleft was blatantly exposed due to her feet being planted some distance apart.

Some of St Priscilla’s delinquents tried, in vain, to conceal their intimate treasure, but Sophie Smith had never attempted to do so. It was her third caning. Miss Baker; an attractive, highly-qualified, young woman wondered whether the girl would ever mend her ways. Sophie had become, very much, a disruptive influence at St Priscilla’s.

As Wendy shuffled into position behind the girl, she briefly reflected upon Sophie and her attitude. The girl did not board full-time at St Priscilla’s, returning home on a Friday afternoon after lessons had finished. She lived only about twenty miles or so away. The young Principal was of the opinion that this break was really the root cause of her bad college behaviour.

A young female like Sophie would not normally allow herself to finish her education at an establishment like St Priscilla’s. In her case, however, there was a serious financial consideration involved. The disruptive, but likeable nonetheless, eighteen-year-old stood to benefit from a Trust Fund, but only if she attained the meritorious Certificate of Leaving.

Wendy tried to put any other thoughts onto the back burner. She could not consign to that back burner the erotic pleasure she was receiving from the splendid bottom she was about to punish.

Although Wendy Baker had a regular male friend with whom she enjoyed a satisfactory sexual relationship, she also received a great deal of pleasure on the occasions when she batted for the other side. Several female members of the college staff who also had leanings that way were only too keen to try and enhance their careers by joining in sex games with the attractive and youngish Principal.

Wendy Baker would never as much suggest anything untoward with any of her charges. Once they had become well established members of the Former Scholars Association, well, that was a different matter entirely.

The bottom beckoned. Wendy placed the cane horizontally against the dead centre of the twin moons. She pressed the stick into the flesh and caused it to dent. There was a great deal of springability in Sophie’s perfect rump.

Wendy withdrew the cane from the twitching, slightly honeyed mounds and raised it to shoulder height. There was no need for her to lift the punishment implement any higher. Her perfect positioning, coupled with her athletic build always ensured that each stroke was delivered with maximum severity.

Swish!

Crack!

The impact of the thin stick onto the rounded-out bum-flesh sent visible reverberations through the teenager’s body. There was a sharp, audible intake of breath but no cry came from the back of the girl’s throat.

Wendy did not pause before preparing to deliver the next stroke. Pauses would come later as the hurt built up in Sophie’s bum-cheeks.

She swayed slowly back on the inch-high heels of her black shoes, the cane rising up in time with her movements, Wendy then swung the rattan down onto Sophie’s ripe, young bottom.

Thwack!

‘Ooh!’

The blonde student uttered a cry and her body jerked forward with the force of the cut. The expertly wielded wand embedded itself in the roundnesses for a pain-imparting second before rebounding away to drop inoffensively to Wendy’s side.

The Principal surveyed the early results of her handiwork. In the dead centre of Sophie’s nates, the first visit of the swishy cane had left its visual reminder, a reddening track across the creamy-coloured teenage flesh. Exactly half an inch below it, a parallel line now pink in shade but beginning to deepen, showed where the rattan had suddenly ended its last pain-imparting journey.

Wendy, in a majestic manner, raised the cane for the third time, took her weight on her heels and then delivered another forceful cut.

‘Yowwww!’

Sophie yelled out and began to furiously waggle her now stricken rear. The woman’s aim had been true, as it invariably was, and the thin stick had dug into the youthful flesh and then rebounded away as though it was on a spring.

Another stripe began to emerge on the moons, whose loveliness was now being steadily desecrated in the name of retribution.

Wendy paused in her punitive efforts. Anguish would be accumulating now throughout the girl’s striped nates. It would, of course, become much worse for her. The caning session was still only at the halfway stage.

The writhing slowed and it was clear that Sophie was preparing herself for the continuation of the onslaught. She braced her knees and the dividing cleft tightened to a thin line. That act alone would be quite a painful one for her bum muscles.

Wendy Baker prepared herself, too. The cane was slowly hoisted to shoulder height once more.

Swoosh!

Crack!

‘Yowwweeeeaagghh!’

The cry was a truly agonised one, its pitch higher than before. Despite Sophie’s preparation, her knees weakened and she sank halfway to her ankles, rotating her agitated bottom at the same time. The stinging cane had been delivered with great effect by the disciplinarian Principal.

Sophie, very slowly, levered herself up into the submissive position. It was not possible for her to bring her pain-filled posterior under control. Her young pussy was well open to view as it performed the circular movements, its motions being dictated by her moving behind.

The provocative sight was not lost upon Wendy Baker. Perhaps, as a fully-fledged adult, Sophie might join those former students of the college who joined in the sex, fun and games from time to time!

‘Keep still, Miss Smith!’ Wendy urged the gasping girl.

She did not want to wait for too long. The fire in Sophie’s bum needed to be kept well stoked.

The stoking of the fire recommenced, with Wendy raising up the willowy wand to shoulder height. She leaned backwards again as she did so before swaying forward to add more flames to the lacerated buttocks.

The crack of the cane on the naked flesh was loud in the study. It was followed, instantaneously, by a shrill cry as the wood burned its way into Sophie’s tramlined posterior.

The girl’s bottom began to churn desperately as if it had been switched on automatically.

Sophie’s reaction at this stage of the ordeal was exactly the same as any other punishee. Wendy wondered whether any of the recalcitrant girls thought about what they looked like back there. They had other things to worry about anyway!

The Principal paused in her punishment efforts. Sophie’s cavortings were highly provocative. After all, she was nearly nineteen years old!

The bent over girl was panting heavily now. She would have been counting the strokes; everyone counted! The next stroke would be the final one, but Sophie Smith would be well aware that it would, more than likely, be delivered with a greater ferocity than the others.

Wendy guessed what the girl would be thinking and she did not intend to disappoint her in that respect.

She tap-tapped the moving behind as she issued the command, ‘Keep it still now, Miss Smith!’

Sophie did her best. It was, though, not enough to achieve total stillness of her red-striped, hurting, bum-mounds, but it was sufficient for Wendy to begin preparations for the sixth of the best. In true St Priscilla’s tradition, the sixth would be the very best, as far as the person wielding the cane was concerned!

The stick was duly raised. There was a pause as Wendy judged the moment when Sophie’s livid nates were beginning to lose the worst of the anguish. Then, the cane described a graceful arc as it was brought down with full force to end its journey with a painful sounding thwack!

‘Yeeecchh!’

Errant St Priscilla’s scholars were allowed to rise once the end of the caning had been reached. The stricken Sophie took advantage of that act of leniency.

With her ear-piercing shriek still continuing, the beaten student shot bolt upright and frantically rubbed her suffering sit-upon. That last swipe of the wickedly thin wood had been the most severe of the set of six.

Sophie’s pleated uniform skirt had not fallen down at the back as it had been carefully pinned into place beforehand. She kept her back to Wendy as she ministered to her angry nates. Both of them knew that despite her best efforts only time would force the anguish to fade. Spending the rest of the afternoon perched on a hard wooden seat would be decidedly uncomfortable for Sophie.

Eventually, the tall blonde-haired girl moved her hands from her chastised rear and used the backs of her forefingers to smooth away the wetness from her blue eyes.

Wendy stared at the fully-exposed-again backside. It looked for all the world as though the girl had sat down on a grille.

The Principal then replaced the cane in its cupboard. It wasn’t the only one there! Then, she moved behind Sophie and undid the safety pins. The skirt dropped back into place.

‘Pull up your knickers,’ she told the girl.

With some wincing, Sophie lowered herself and hoisted up the black scrap of material from her ankles. Wendy reflected that it would not have made any difference, as far as the caning itself was concerned, if she had been allowed to retain her knickers.

‘I hope I will not have occasion to cane you again before you leave St Priscilla’s,’ she sighed.

‘No, Miss,’ responded the girl, her voice betraying the fact that she was now regaining her composure.

Sophie was duly dismissed and Wendy noted, with some satisfaction, that the disruptive student walked rather stiltedly towards the door.

----//----

Being the sound educationalist that she was, Wendy turned her thoughts towards trying to help Sophie. Her behaviour did not augur well for her future after St Priscilla’s.

She was already of the opinion that the weekends at home were undoing all the good during the week; but why? Wendy decided that she should pay a surprise visit to the Smith household. It was just after evening meal time when Wendy set out with a road map open on the front passenger seat. The journey was not a long one and she soon found the Acacia Grove she was looking for. Wendy pulled a face. The residents of the Grove preferred their properties to have names rather than numbers. Still, number two would be the first one, but on which side. She opted for the house on the right.

Wendy pinged the bell and the door was soon answered. Standing there was a woman of about her own age. She had curling blonde hair which was worn rather long.

The woman was wearing a pink housecoat and she clutched at the collar to prevent any exposure of her cleavage. Wendy could see from the bulge in the garment that the cleavage would be considerable. She was quite attractive and that caused a little fluttering in the breast of the visitor.

‘Mrs Smith?’ Wendy enquired, looking into the other woman’s big, blue eyes. They were very sensual.

Wendy put any lascivious thoughts behind her. She was here with a purpose. She was also of the opinion that Mrs Smith probably spent all day wearing her housecoat.

‘That’s right,’ was the response to the question.

‘It’s about your daughter,’ Wendy informed her.

‘Are you from the college?’ she was asked. Wendy replied that she was. ‘You’d better come in, then.’

The Principal entered the hallway. The first thing she noticed was riding kit hung on an old-fashioned clothes stand.

‘Who goes riding?’ enquired Wendy.

‘I do,’ smiled Mrs Smith. ‘Actually, I’ve not been back home very long after some hacking. That’s why I’m wearing my housecoat. I’ve just had a shower.’

‘I see.’ Wendy pursed her lips. She had been wrong about the other woman spending all her time in that piece of apparel.

They sat down opposite one another and Wendy’s pulse rate increased a little as Mrs Smith made no attempt to conceal the view of part of her thighs, thanks to the sides of her housecoat parting somewhat. The top had loosened too, causing about an inch or so of her cleavage to be revealed.

‘My name is Sally, by the way.’ Mrs Smith leaned back in her seat. ‘So what has my darling daughter been up to?’

‘I’m afraid she is a very disruptive influence,’ began Wendy. ‘Hardly a day seems to go by without her receiving punishment in some way.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ frowned Sally, fidgeting a little.

‘I have even had to resort to the use of the cane on several occasions,’ Wendy informed her.

‘Oh dear.’ Sally pulled a face. ‘She’s never told me.’

‘Discipline must begin in the home.’ Wendy was now warming to the reason for her visit. Experience had already indicated to her that Sally Smith was quite a weak woman. ‘Your daughter’s bad behaviour is really all down to you, I’m afraid.’

Mrs Smith began to squirm as she listened to the lecture from the young Principal of St Priscilla’s. As she did so, her housecoat fell apart more revealingly and she made no attempt to cover herself up. It made Wendy Baker start to feel a bit hot and bothered.

‘I suppose I ought to have chastised her,’ admitted Mrs Smith.

‘You lack discipline yourself, Sally,’ said Wendy softly. It was the first time she had referred to the woman sitting opposite her by her first name.

‘I suppose I do.’ Mrs Smith gave a bosom-heaving sigh. Wendy’s eyes narrowed. Her nostrils flared. Dare she come out with what she was thinking?

‘It’s never too late to learn.’ There! She’d said it! ‘We can begin right here and now,’ she continued. ‘Once you have been disciplined yourself, you will begin to understand what it’s all about.’

‘Are you going to give me lines, or something?’ Sally chuckled ‘My handwriting is terrible.’

‘A bit more severe than that.’ Wendy was full of confidence now. ‘I plan to smack your bottom in the good old, time honoured way to begin with.’

‘That’s a bit over the top, isn’t it?’ frowned the woman.

It was only a mild protest and not a really serious one. Wendy’s tummy was lurching at the prospect of having Sally Smith across her knee.

‘Not at all,’ retorted Wendy in a severe tone. ‘It’s something that should have happened to you a long time age, and to that daughter of yours, as well!’

‘If you think it might help.’ Sally gave a sigh.

Wendy could hardly believe it. The woman was like putty in her hands.

Sophie would obviously run rings round her.

‘Are you expecting anyone?’ enquired Wendy. Receiving a negative response, she added, ‘I suggest you lock the doors and immobilise your telephones.’ The net curtains would take care of the windows.

Sally Smith set out to do what she had been told to, whilst Wendy moved an upright dining chair into the middle of the room. She sat down on it and waited for her victim. Her heart was beating excitedly.

Rather like a chastened schoolgirl, Sally padded across the carpet on her bare feet.

‘I’m certainly not spanking you over your housecoat,’ Wendy told her brusquely.

‘No, of course not.’

Sally didn’t seem to mind in the least what was going on. It would be sheer enjoyment as far as Wendy was concerned, but it might just do the woman a lot of good and have a fall-out effect upon her daughter as well.

Sally Smith undid the loosened tie of her housecoat and pulled it apart, to reveal her full, frontal nudity.

Wendy’s nostrils flared and her heart skipped a beat at the arousing sight before her. Sally’s breasts were firm and pear-shaped with big nipples. More than an inch could be pinched around her waist, as was to be expected. Her up-top assets bounced and swayed as she shrugged out of the housecoat and let it drop to the floor.

The dark-blonde vee of her pubic hair arrowed into her groin.

Her legs were shapely and well-toned. No doubt the horse riding helped in that respect.

‘Across my lap, please, Sally.’ Wendy had to clear her throat before she managed to speak.

There was no hesitation at all on the woman’s part as she took Wendy’s hand and draped herself over the Principal’s lap. Wendy’s eyes focussed upon the wiggling bottom she was, surprisingly, being allowed to get to grips with. The orbs were rich and round. Horse riding was keeping the flesh in a youthful condition.

The swell of her pussy lips was an arousing sight, Sally making no attempt whatsoever to try and conceal that part of her.

Wendy allowed her hand to roam across the womanly nates, savouring at the same time the naked and intimate warmth of Sally Smith’s naked body.

‘Are you ready? she asked her.

‘Yes,’ was the confident response.

As Wendy lifted her hand away from the semi-globes, she observed that Sally was making no attempt at all to prepare herself for the imminent spanking. The crease had not tightened to a line and the muscles of her bum had not clenched at all.

Slap!

Wendy’s slightly cupped palm landed at speed onto the offered roundness nearest to her. The sound was satisfactory, although there was barely any movement from Sally.

The Principal of St Priscilla’s always enjoyed dishing out a good hiding. It was much more interesting than caning and she found it highly arousing. She could not, of course, spank her college charges as caning was the only form of corporal punishment allowed by the rules. There were, however, plenty of former students in her unofficial club who were keen to offer their shapely bottoms to her, followed by another part of their body.

Slap!

The twin cheek received the identical blow, again with no response from the woman on the receiving end.

Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!

Wendy delivered a flurry of blows, causing the struck globes to buck fiercely up and down. The woman’s movements in the college Principal’s own intimate area were exhilarating.

Wendy allowed her punishing palm a little rest. Sally’s hummocks were beginning to colour nicely. They carried on their movement for a little while, indicating that there was some pain in them.

It was time for that pain to be increased. Wendy applied a salvo of stinging slaps to the highly spankable bum, which had been so freely and unexpectedly made available to her.

‘Ohhl Oohh!’

Sally began to squirm and her chastiser ringed her waist to secure her. All the time the slaps rained down on the unprotected, reddening flesh, covering the entire cushioned area of the woman’s rear.

‘Owww! Owww! Owwww!’ cried Sally, twisting her head from side to side. She actually moved a hand to try to protect her battered backside but Wendy wrenched it away.

The blistering attack continued unabated with the naked female kicking her legs in response to the severe smacks being poured upon her upended rear end. That particular part of her anatomy was now bright red in colour, a startling contrast to the rest of her magnolia skin.

Her succulent pussy was now open to intermittent view and Wendy made the most of the opportunities available to her. She was aware that she was quite damp herself in that same place!

Wendy was rather surprised that Sally Smith had not pleaded with her to stop, not that she would have done so in any event. Suddenly, she had a memory recall of something she had recently seen, but which had not really registered at the time. Her eyes brightened even further and she licked her lips.

‘That’s the first part over with,’ she informed the woman ‘Get up now.’

Gasping somewhat, Sally got to her feet assisted by Wendy. In doing so her hands came into unnecessary contact with the naked breasts. There was no protest.

Leaving the other woman to soothe her rear, Wendy went out into the hall. She had remembered that there was a riding crop sticking up out of a black riding boot.

Wendy’s face was flushed with excitement when she returned to the lounge triumphantly wielding an instrument she had never previously used.

Sally’s face fell and she began to stammer. ‘I… I…’

‘Over the chair back! Hands on the seat!’ demanded Wendy, paying no heed to any possible reluctance on the part of Sally Smith. The woman meekly did as she was told.

The womanly bottom, a sparkling shade of red, was now perfectly positioned for the next stage of the parental learning curve. Wendy had intended using a hairbrush. What a find the crop was!

The Principal enjoyed the feel of the plaited leather handle in her palm. The shaft moved easily and menacingly.

In euphoria almost, Wendy tapped the gleaming, well presented and part-punished posterior with the thin, leather-coated whale-bone. It bent into an arc.

Swisshh! The sound was awesome.

Cracckkkk! The sound of abrupt contact was music to Wendy’s ears.

‘Aagghhh!’ Sally gave out an agonised shriek and made to get up.

‘Stay where you are!’ ordered Wendy curtly, reaching out to press down on the woman’s bare back.

Sally’s summits had gone into an angry action immediately the crop had dug into their flesh.

‘It hurts,’ wailed the woman.

‘It’s supposed to!’ snapped Wendy.

She had been looking forward to laying on the riding whip a dozen or so times but Sally Smith clearly would not be able to cope with anything like that many.

Another long swish heralded the arrival of the hurtful crop, this time onto cheeks which were still moving. It impacted onto the woman-flesh about one inch below the initial band of fire. The mark showed up quite clearly even against the bright redness from the earlier spanking.

‘Ayeeeaaagghh!’

‘Ayeeaagghh!’

Sally swung her head from side to side and she made lewd thrustings against the chair back. Wendy fully appreciated the suggestive movements.

With Sally Smith still humping the chair back, Wendy once more caused the supple implement to bite into the resilient, yet hurt-filled flesh.

The cry was ear-piercing and the rotations of the woman’s derriere highly provocative.

Wendy enjoyed the sight of the wildly cavorting rear. She would lash it just the one more time and then call it a day.

The tenderising crop duly impacted onto the striped and sore rotundities with the same hurtful, devastating results as before.

The college Principal returned the horse whip to the hall. When she got back. Sally was clutching her stricken posterior. There were tears in her eyes.

To her great surprise, the naked woman threw her arms around Wendy’s neck and pressed herself close to her. It wasn’t long before the Principal of St Priscilla’s was naked herself. In a flurry of arms and legs, fingers explored cavities and tongues performed what was expected of them.

Panting and perspiring, the two women began to dress and Wendy got ready to go.

‘I won’t tell Carla what happened between us, although, I certainly will chastise her from now on,’ smiled Sally.

‘Carla?’ frowned Wendy.

‘My daughter,’ laughed the woman ‘Highdown College. You haven’t forgotten, have you?’

Suddenly, Wendy felt quite giddy ‘Is this number two Acacia Grove?’ she gasped.

‘No.’ Sally shook her head. ‘This is number 38. Number two’s at the other end. Why do you ask?’