Dealing with Emma & Bringing Emma in Line (AI enhanced)

An enhanced double-bill of lovely Emma Simway’s trials and tribulations from Blushes Uniform Girls 2.02.

Dealing with Emma

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…

----//----

It 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 Headmaster’s 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…

Bringing Emma in Line

Room 3 again. It is just a week after that strapping Emma had from Mr Stangate and quite a bit has happened since then. That afternoon session with the Head, and then the awful visit to Mr Vengrove. Yes but there are other things too. Things Emma doesn’t know about. Things, developments, which are the direct cause of her being here again this Tuesday afternoon after school.

With the time on the wall clock just coming up to 4.45 again.

Why has she been asked by Mr Stangate to wait after school again? He gave no reason, just said she was to be here. Emma frowns. Glancing again at the clock. The thought comes into her head: maybe she will report Mr Stangate to Mr Anlett. Complain that he is harassing her. That is a good word: Harassing. Yes. Why doesn’t she? But Emma knows there is no real chance that she will have the nerve to carry out this attractive idea. Really no chance at all. Well it would be asking for trouble, wouldn’t it.

OK. In that case maybe she’ll just leave. Give Mr Stangate what, one more minute? Two then. And then just leave. Emma recalls that she was going to do that last time. Just about to leave and then he appeared. And that is what happens now.

‘Hello Emma. Sorry to keep you waiting. If I have.’

Mr Stangate sounds very bright and breezy. And is there an extra gleam in his eye? But she hasn’t done anything. So there is nothing Mr Stangate can do to her. No more of that awful, sadistic strap. Or anything else. Emma returns Mr Stangate’s look with what she hopes is a confident gaze.

He smiles. ‘Stand up, Emma, and come here, by the board. And take your skirt off.’

Has she heard him right? Take her skirt off!! Emma stands up but is shaking her head, in disbelief.

‘No! I haven’t done anything!’

Mr Stangate is vigorously cleaning some writing off the board. He turns. ‘You haven’t done anything, Emma? But I’m not talking about anything. I just said take your skirt off. Come on. Or I’ll give you six real stingers with the cane.’

‘No!’ she squeals. ‘You can’t. Only Mr Anlett is allowed to.’

That is the well-known rule of course. Other masters can use the strap, if that is considered appropriate. But not the cane. Mr Stangate smiles that superior smile again. ‘Oh yes? Well I could always send you to Mr Anlett, couldn’t I? Say you were behaving impossibly and could he please beat the daylights out of you with his cane. How about that? Now, will you take that skirt off?’

Emma bites her lip. Could Mr Stangate be that awful? Maybe he could. And she can imagine Mr Anlett liking the idea. Making her take her skirt off and then bend over his desk. And then pulling her knickers tight up into the cleft of her bottom. Susan Hanley has had the cane from the Head and that is what he did. The thought of it makes you go all hot and cold. Emma hesitates and then her hands go reluctantly to her skirt. Undoing the waist fastener, she briskly drops the skirt and steps out of it. Leaving herself in just blouse and knickers. They are the regulation navy ones, so Mr Stangate can’t complain about that.

‘That’s a good girl. His hand lightly smacks her bottom. Then he hands her the chalk. ‘Draw me a nice big O on the board, Emma dear. O for what? Oh dear poor Emma, perhaps.’

She doesn’t know what he is on about. Mr Stangate is behaving very strangely. Emma can sense there is a sort of excitement, exhilaration. And now he has got her skirt off, for no reason whatever, that doesn’t make her feel any better. She shivers. His hand is playing about with her bottom. Concentrating, she draws a big ‘O’ on the board as requested.

‘Excellent. And now a nice I next to it. Perhaps for: I am a naughty girl and need a strapping.’

‘Look… sir…’ She has a nasty feeling now. Something is going on. Mr Stangate is going to pull some nasty trick.

He sharply smacks her bottom. ‘Do it.’ With a shaky hand Emma obeys.

‘Lovely. And now — shall we make that I into an R? Yes do that. For what? Oh, Rules and Regulations, perhaps.’

Biting her lip Emma complies. She is completely confused. Mr Stangate seems to have gone off his rocker.

‘Good. Thank you Emma.’ Another fondle at her bottom and Mr Stangate takes the chalk from her. ‘Now what have we got? OR. And if I write above it THE STRAP and below it THE CANE. THE STRAP OR THE CANE Emma? What about that? Which would you prefer?’

She shakes her head. What is going on? Mr Stangate isn’t allowed to cane her. And anyway she hasn’t done anything. To get the strap or anything else.

That sickly, gloating smile is on Mr Stangate’s face again. ‘Perhaps I should tell you something, Emma. We have a new rule or regulation. And it is especially for you. A special rule for Emma Simway. It comes from our excellent chairman of governors, no less. The new rule is that I can cane you. What do you think about that?’

Emma feels a little bit faint. What Mr Stangate has said is quite unbelievable — but it would certainly explain that funny way he has been acting. She shakes her head weakly.

‘You can’t believe it?’ He comes round behind her, gripping her upper arms. ‘Ah but that’s because you don’t realise what an important girl you are, Emma dear. And what an impressive effect you had on Mr Vengrove when you went to see him. So much so that he has devised this new ruling for you alone. Her Form Master, Mr Edward Stangate M.A., is forthwith allowed to cane her bottom, in the interests of discipline, etc., etc.’

Mr Stangate’s hands come round to cup Emma’s firm tits. ‘And of course he can squeeze her nice boobs whenever he feels like it. And other choice parts too. Unless she wants even more caning of her bottom. He didn’t actually say that, that’s my little extra.’

Emma feels like crying. She still can’t believe this. But one part of her mind can believe it. That awful Mr Vengrove…

‘No…’ she whimpers. His hands are still squeezing her tits.

Mr Stangate lets go. ‘You don’t believe me? OK I tell you what, Emma. You can go to the Head and confirm it. He will confirm it of course. And then I’ll have you back in here tomorrow afternoon, and give you the caning then. How’s that. I can wait 24 hours. Although maybe, because you have seen fit to doubt my word, we may need a few extra strokes.’

Emma stutters that yes she will go and see Mr Anlett. Surely he won’t confirm that this dreadful thing is true’? And it is truly dreadful, because Mr Stangate seems to be saying he can cane her for no reason at all, no reason other than that he wants to.

‘Good. Please do that, Emma. And I can assure you that you will be back here tomorrow. I will cane that pretty bottom tomorrow. But that is not all of course. We do need something right now. And so I propose to use my strap again. I believe you quite enjoyed it last time.’ Got you rather excited here, didn’t it!’

Emma lets out a yelp. Mr Stangate’s hand has snaked in and groped her pussy! She squirms tremblingly away. Flush-faced she does her best to ignore the grope and concentrate on what he has said. He wants to give her that bloody strap again!

No!! He can’t! She tries to tell him he can’t. Well, she hasn’t done anything. Nothing at all.

Mr Stangate says maybe she hasn’t done anything in particular. ‘But your general attitude leaves a lot to be desired, Emma. A good strapping will undoubtedly make you buck your ideas up. Yes, undoubtedly. And also, if you won’t take a strapping now, when you do have the caning, tomorrow, it will be a lot worse. A whole lot worse. Remember, Mr Vengrove has said I can cane you just as much as I think is necessary.’

She doesn’t seem to have any real choice. Except to accept a bloody strapping. Emma bites her lip, feeling sick. It is so unfair!

Mr Stangate moves in close and fondles her bum again. ‘Sensible girl, Emma. I knew you’d see reason. And then tomorrow, we’ll see. Maybe that caning doesn’t have to be so desperately hard, eh?’

He produces the strap from inside his gown and holds it up in front of Emma. Yes, like before he wants her to kiss it. She feels more like spitting on it but maybe that is not a good idea, with both the strap and the cane threatening. Once again she feels as if the tears are going to come flooding out.

Mr Stangate is round behind her again. Ready to give her the business now. He tells her to bend forward. Stretch her arms back for balance, and stick her bottom out. His left hand grabs the seat of her knickers, pulling them up, pulling the hems up into the cleft of her bottom. So that Emma’s bum is effectively bare, she might as well have her knickers off as far as the coming strapping is concerned. But her cunt is covered. Perhaps this is a revision resulting from Mr Vengrove’s interest. His stated concern for girls’ private-most parts. With her knickers still on and up, albeit pulled hard into her bottom-cleft, Emma’s cunt is protected from any careless stroke of the strap.

She lets out a staccato cry. Yes, it is her bared bottom, not her cunt. The strap has whipped devilishly in, squarely across the full meat of both cheeks. That ferocious burning sting!!

‘Keep it still,’ he orders. ‘Don’t jiggle your bum about’

THWATT…!! A second frenzied yell as it slices in again. Mr Stangate tells her to hold onto the blackboard, she is writhing her bum about too much. Emma desperately grabs it.

Another frantic cry as the strap bites again into her flesh. Then Mr Stangate comes in close in behind her. His voice in her ear:

‘Enjoying it, dear’? Getting you hotted up?’

She doesn’t answer. His hand is at her glowing bum. And then sliding between her legs. Fondling her cunt through her knickers.

‘Mmm… I do believe you’re wet.’ he murmurs. ‘It’s getting you all excited, isn’t it’?’

She gasps that it isn’t. It just bloody hurts! But his fingers are still there and what he is doing does feel a bit good, in spite of the continuing hot sting in her bottom. He soon stops it, though.

THWATTT…!!

----//----

Emma does go to see Mr Anlett the next morning, though with the thought in her head that maybe it’s not such a good idea. For one thing it seems pretty clear that Mr Vengrove must have given permission for caning, otherwise Mr Stangate wouldn’t be telling her to go ahead. Also you never feel too happy about going to see Mr Anlett, and there is now the thought of last time. When Mr Anlett did that awful ‘checking’. Quite probably he’ll want to do that again. Well it will be a good excuse, won’t it?

Still Emma does go. Thinking maybe she can at least plead with him or something. Stephen Anlett is naturally very pleased to see her. He is always pleased to have his more attractive older girls visit in his study. A little tête-à-tête with a pretty, shapely girl is always quite stimulating. There is always the thought at least of caning her, for some transgression or other. There may not be any misdemeanour that he can think of but merely musing about it with the girl there in close togetherness can be most stimulating. Frequently inducing an enjoyable tumescence. And Emma Simway is of course just about the most attractive and stimulating of the school’s current stock of girls.

Which is why Mr Vengrove has taken this interest. This very decided interest in Emma. Phoning to have quite a chat about her. Her work and prospects, etc. The Head had to admit that her prospects were not of the highest order academically, but of course experience showed that a very attractive girl such as Emma could usually be placed in a job on leaving school, even without a lot of paper qualifications. A prospective employer keen to get his hands on her if one wished to consider basic facts, although naturally one did not refer to that aspect to the girl herself or her parents, and nor did he spell that out to Mr Vengrove.

Mr Vengrove it seemed thought discipline was most important. He thought that choice Emma could be persuaded to devote more time to her work if she were disciplined more. To be specific Mr Vengrove would like to have her caned. By her Form Master, Mr Stangate, who had shown he had the right idea by strapping her. So Mr Vengrove would very much like to have Mr Stangate cane her. The Head did mention his normal ruling that only himself was allowed to cane girls, but of course given Mr Vengrove’s stated keen interest and concern he would be most happy to oblige and waive the ruling.

‘Excellent!’ was Mr Vengrove’s comment on this. ‘And of course, Anlett, you could cane her yourself as well. But maybe let Stangate first, eh. Oh and of course, I wish to see her myself. Right after each caning. To check everything is in order. I am keenly aware of my responsibilities in this.’

Mr Vengrove evidently had a thing about girls who had been caned. Rather it seemed than actually wishing to carry out the act himself. Because naturally if he had mentioned an interest in that direction the Head would have been more than happy to agree to it.

Anyway there it was. And Stephen Anlett did most certainly intend to follow the chairman of governors’ advice and cane Emma himself. Quite probably Mr Vengrove was right; more discipline would improve Emma’s performance. And so he planned to have a session with her just as soon as Mr Stangate had instigated matters. Yes, most certainly. He wasn’t going to tell Emma that just yet though. No need to alarm her.

And so Emma when she visits the Head does, unfortunately, have Mr Stangate’s words confirmed. ‘It is of course for your own good, my dear. Mr Vengrove is strongly of the opinion that more discipline would be greatly beneficial. And he will want you to go round to his house afterwards to, well, discuss things. And check that everything is OK. You should feel very grateful that he is taking this interest in you.’

Emma could say a few things but she doesn’t. She feels quite a lot like crying for one thing. She is going to be caned by Mr Stangate. And also another visit to Mr Vengrove! She can all too clearly remember the last time. Having to do that handstand, being spanked, and all the rest.

Mr Anlett puts a comforting arm round her. His other hand reaches for one of those nice big tits, to squeeze it sympathetically. He asks about Mr Stangate, and gets eventually the reluctant admission from Emma that Mr Stangate has strapped her again. Ah! Well then, he had better have a quick check, hadn’t he? See that everything is OK.

Can she slip her knickers off please?

----//----

Back in Room 3 with Mr Stangate. Standing miserably in front of him. Mr Stangate of course is not miserable, he has that rather sickening smile on his face again.

‘Well Emma. I understand you went to see the Head. And he told you…?’

She makes brief eye contact, then drops her gaze to the floor again.

‘That everything I said was perfectly correct. Right?’

Perhaps that wasn’t strictly true. Mr Anlett hadn’t actually said Mr Stangate could cane her as much as he liked. But what was the point of arguing? It would certainly only make things worse. Emma remains dumb.

‘Good. Well shall we start off with the strap again? To get your bottom toned up as it were. Yes I think so. Take your skirt off, Emma please.’

She has to bend right over again. Standing in front of the blackboard. which still displays the OR she chalked on it yesterday. Mr Stangate briskly pulls Emma’s knickers up into the cleft of her bottom. And then without delay vigorously whips the strap in. Once… twice… three times. Each one produces a desperate, gaspy squeal.

 ’Good! How was that, Emma? Feel better? Got your pulse moving a bit, did it?’ He laughs. His hand slides in between Emma’s trembly thighs to grope her pussy. ‘And your hormones too I expect!’

Mr Stangate takes his hand away and tells her to stand up straight. ‘Well I’m sure you’re as eager to get on with the real business as I am. So take your knickers off please. We’re going to do it properly.

Her knickers off!! No! But Mr Stangate insists. He says Mr Vengrove wants it done correctly.

Feeling sick Emma slides them down and off. Mr Stangate takes the knickers and places them carefully on the corner of the desk. He has the cane in his hand now. Emma, standing on shaky legs with her hands crossed in front of her cunt, doesn’t dare look at it.

‘Hands up on your head,’ he orders. ‘I know you’re not really a shy girl.’

Emma reluctantly complies. She feels completely nude, her raised arms lifting the hem of her blouse high on her waist with everything below exposed and vulnerable. Her bottom and her pussy in particular. As if sensing that vulnerable feeling Mr Stangate slides his hand out to her pussy. Gently cupping her hair-covered mound.

‘Mmm you’re such a lovely girl. Emma. But all the more reason why you need a touch of the cane now and then.’

His hand comes away. ‘OK. Now first of all I’d like you bending over the desk. Standing in front of it, and then just lower yourself. Get a good grip on the edge to keep yourself nice and still. With your knees just a little bit bent so your bottom is sticking out nicely for the cane. OK?’

Emma getting into this awful position, can feel herself sweating. She has never had the cane of course. She has been thinking about it virtually all night with scarcely a wink of sleep. Imagining it. This. Now. Mr Stangate’s hand is lightly on her back. The other one no doubt is even now swinging back the cane. Yes. Any second now…

THWACK…!!

Oh Christ! Her poor bum! The fierce red-hot sting! Her bottom writhes and rolls, with a life of its own, attempting to handle the pain.

‘Keep it still, Emma!

THWACK…!! Again. This time slicing in a few centimetres below the line of the first one. The pain is redoubled. She yells out.

THWACKK…!! And again. Emma between the yells gasping for breath now. Her hips and bottom wriggling and writhing. She can’t take it. No more!

THWACKK…!! The cane slicing zippily in yet again…

----//----

But after those four strokes Mr Stangate does stop. It is only for a breather, he tells her, the session has not yet finished. Emma can have a break, though. She can sit down at a desk. Emma doesn’t particularly want to sit down, not on her bare bottom which is still red hot from those diabolical cane strokes. But Mr Stangate insists. He rather likes the idea of her caned bottom bare on the wooden seat.

Emma sits gingerly down. Her poor bum!

‘Good. A little rest, and then we will resume with the pretty Emma in a different position. He smiles gloatingly.

‘Well, we don’t want to get bored, do we? A different position will add more interest. For both of us. You will have the cane coming in at a different angle. And I will have, well, a new viewpoint. OK.’

Emma stutters tearfully that she can’t take any more. Her bottom is already killing her.

‘Don’t exaggerate,’ Mr Stangate tells her. ‘Just a little glow to it.’ He tells her to stand up, the rest is over. When she does his bare hand slaps hard across her bum.

What is this other position, which is to prevent boredom? It is Emma lying with her thighs and belly on the desk top. Her head down under the seat’s backrest. It is an awkward and painful position. Also embarrassing because she imagines he can probably see her cunt. This is true, he can, whenever Emma’s legs slide apart even just a little. This is no doubt what Mr Stangate meant by a new viewpoint.

But shortly the cane slices in again, and drives any thought of embarrassment quite out of Emma’s head. That fierce and fiendish contact. Which feels as if it is going to cut right through her. Cut her in two…

----//----

Mr Vengrove! It is going to be the same, isn’t it? When Mr Stangate drives her round to his place later as he has been requested to. That same awful business as last time.

But it isn’t just the same. There is some of that same stuff again. A handstand for one thing without her knickers on.

‘You did it so well last time, Emma. I’d really like to see it again.’

 And he gets her over his lap and spanks her bottom too. With quite a bit of fiddling about as well.

But then this time there is something else he wants. Emma shakes her head when she realises what it is. No!

But Mr Vengrove is very keen for it. He says maybe he can arrange that she doesn’t get too much caning. Not a great deal. Whereas on the other hand she could be getting a great deal of it. Because he really does think she needs it.

Well that is a very powerful incentive, isn’t it? A very powerful argument. To do what Mr Vengrove wants.

Emma asks weakly, ‘No m…more of the cane? If I do…’

Mr Vengrove shakes his head. That is too much to concede. He knows it is more than he needs concede.

‘No, you need some, Emma. But we can cut it down. OK?’

She bites her lip. She can still feel that awful cane on her bottom. She makes a face. And then moves to get down where Mr Vengrove wants her. Kneeling between his parted thighs…