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Teacher Training
Jane's life had come full circle. She was now a fully fledged teacher at her old
school. At the comparatively young age of 23 she was one of few female teachers
in the school and by over a decade the youngest.
So few things had changed that it felt quite strange to be back, not least because
her schooldays here had been something of an ordeal. Indeed as she walked
down the corridor to meet with the Headmaster she was feeling the same
stomach churning anxiety she had as a young girl.
The school was an old fashioned institution and held on to it's archaic principles.
Despite now admitting both boys and girls it still maintained its uniform, its dusty
atmosphere and its discipline.
Walking down the long corridor the sound of Jane's steps on the stone floors
echoed loudly. She found herself tidying her appearance, adjusting her skirt,
smoothing her blouse, rather daringly she undid one of the buttons and adjusted
the open neck. As she neared the Headmasters door, recollections came flooding
back. She remembered standing outside the office waiting to be admitted to the
huge study with its roaring fire. The headmaster, resplendent in his long black
academic gown and a thin wispy cane in his hand. She tried to remember how
many times she'd been here in the past and wondered just how much the
headmaster remembered of her.
Dr. Anthony Winchester had been the principal at Oaklands School for nearly fifteen
years and if truth be known the job had got a little stale. The appearance or more
correctly the reappearance of Jane fellows had been by far the most welcome
surprise for some considerable time. She had lost none of the attractive and
charming demeanor that he remembered so well from several years ago. He
thought back fondly of the evenings he had spent with her as a student at the
school, seldom had the punishment of one of the girls excited him more before or
since. Few of the girls ever willingly submitted to what he considered their right
and proper punishments, even truer now than then. These days, more often than
not a girl had to be restrained before he could go to work with his cane across her
delicate naked bottom. That had never been the case with Jane, to this day he
could feel a stiffening in his cock as he recalled how he used to have her lift her
nightgown to reveal herself, pulled up above her soft white breasts, slim tapered
waist and rounded, gloriously shaped bottom. Her submission to the sting of his
cane, bent forward legs apart or spanked draped across his knee his hand lightly
cupping her breast were some of the most pleasurable experiences of his long
and distinguished career. Since her appointment as a junior house mistress he
had been in a state of unbearable excitement just imagining what had brought her
back.
There were very similar thoughts running through the head of Jane Fellows as she
made her way to the end of the corridor and lightly tapped on the door. She had
hated every minute of her senior years here at the school, she had worked hard,
gained good grades never stepped out of line yet it had been the lazy girls around
her who became the prefects and reaped the benefits, ordering everyone else
around, staying up late chattering when she had to be in her dorm silent. The worst
of course was that she was the one who suffered the weekly visits to the
Headmasters office, it had never seemed fair. She'd have to walk the length of the
long drafty corridors in her white cotton panties and almost transparently thin
nightdress, everyone knowing where and for what she was heading. She thought
back how rather pathetically, she obediently followed every instruction no matter
what, it was for the best she always felt, she always tried to be the archetypal good
girl. She'd lift her nightdress, choke back the tears as her panties were lowered,
bend herself forward in the most obscene posture while the Headmaster and
whoever else he'd invited looked over her most intimate areas. It often took days for
the marks to start to fade, particularly if he used the cane, tapping at her inner
thighs to spread her wider before laying stripes across her bare upturned bottom.
In her senior year she lost count of the number of times she had to make the long
walk to wait at the study door.
"Come," came the bellow from the other side of the door and for the first time in
seven years Jane turned the door handle and entered the Headmaster's study.
"Take a seat my dear, I'll not be a moment."
Jane seated herself in an old upright leather chair in front of the large desk where
the Headmaster was shuffling a few papers. The room was just as she
remembered, large and rather stuffy, a smell of old books lingering in the air. The
fire roared in the same way it had when she'd been stood for the Headmaster and
his cronies to feast their eyes, her night dress lifted high so that the heat scorched
her reddened buttocks, the orange glow of the flames dancing on her naked
breasts.
"And how are you finding things now you are on the other side?" the Headmaster
asked with jovial smile.
"Very good, fine, I mean erm ... everybody is so helpful ..."
Jane stammered her reply while the Headmaster took a moment to admire the
nervous yet strikingly attractive young woman seated before him. She wore a very
conservative skirt and a white blouse that he noted had one too many buttons
undone revealing a glimpse of the tops of her milk white breasts. Her black hair
was long and tied in a pony tail and she wore a pair a dark rimmed and rather
fetching glasses.
"Very good, I've heard excellent things. You understand it is necessary for me to
follow the progress of any new teacher particularly one with little experience and if
you don't mind me saying, and I'm sure you don't, one so young."
"Of course, of course," Jane stammered sitting forward in the chair and crossing her
legs.
"Would you care for a drink?" the Headmaster asked as he rose from his seat and
went towards the decanter of Brandy on the sideboard.
"No, no thank you."
"You don't mind if I take a nip I trust, these chilly evenings, one needs a good fire
and a drop of something to keep out the cold."
As he poured a glass for himself the Headmaster remembered the evenings when
he and his colleagues would pass the decanter around with the young Jane
Fellows displayed in front of the fire. It became something of a sport to see how
lewdly they could have her stand. Her well whipped bottom pushed out roasting in
front of the fire with her hands under her breasts lifting them for all to see. Once he
remembered, he thought it was Jane although couldn't be sure, they had her on all
fours, a glass of brandy delicately balanced on her back her breasts hanging, teats
ready to be squeezed and her legs parted, the soft folds of her most private areas
invitingly visible.
The Headmaster's reverie was broken as Jane shuffled nervously in her seat.
"You'll be wondering why our little meeting this evening I expect." He asked, He
remained stood from where he got a rather better view down the front of Jane's
blouse.
"Well I had thought ..." Jane started to reply feeling a little flustered and slightly
intimidated.
"I'll get straight to the point," the headmaster interrupted before she could continue.
"Discipline, my dear, discipline." He smiled.
Jane felt a familiar knot in her stomach.
"You see, I've taken quite a chance. Appointing you as a junior house mistress,
young as you are, inexperienced as you are and, although it shouldn't be the case,
female as you are. This is a traditional school and there are certain expectations,
first impressions are very important. You understand I'm sure."
The Headmaster stopped to refill his glass. Jane sat silently nervously twisting the
hem of her skirt.
"There are some of my colleagues, although I am not among them, who feel you
have failed to make much of a mark. It has been noted that not one student has
been disciplined in what one might regard as a suitable manner to send the
correct message to the rest of the student body. As you well know this school takes
great pride in its standards and as part of your job we expect you to uphold and
vigorously enforce those very same standards."
"WellI..."
"Let me continue." The Headmaster said firmly. "Pick a student and punish them.
Quite simple. There will always be some minor infraction, it doesn't have to be
anything serious in fact the more trivial the better, show them you mean business."
"i've always tried to be fair," Jane said faintly.
"My dear, fairness is a luxury you can ill afford. Life is not always fair and on
occasions the stronger must make an example of the weak in order to keep things
running smoothly."
There was a pause. Jane knew exactly what the Headmaster was talking about. It
was the reason that she as a model student had endured a weekly thrashing and
the humiliation that followed while others appeared to do as they wished.
A very audible swish snapped Jane out of her thoughts. The Headmaster had
picked up a cane from his desk and theatrically made several flicks of his wrist.
The sound was a trigger for a million feelings to come flooding back into Jane's
mind. Her legs felt weak and the knots in her stomach tightened.
"May I ask if it worries you?"
Jane was not quite sure what the question meant but answered.
"Yes,slightly."
"If you'll permit me to give you the benefit of my experience. The trick is to expect
compliance. Don't for a minute give them the option to refuse. We all deep down
sometimes like to do as others wish."
The Headmaster ran his eyes along the length of the cane.
"For example Miss Fellows I might ask you to stand up."
The Headmaster smiled yet fixed her with a withering stare. Jane understood and
stood.
"I see," she said. "You're right of course, I expect it takes some getting used to."
"We all need to start somewhere. Don't be intimidated. Particularly the boys, they'll
want to get the upper hand, show them you're in charge. Follow the school
procedures, that's what they are there for. Pick some quiet young chap, have him
drop his trousers and give him a few good sharp strokes. News will soon get
round."
"I see," Jane said nervously.
"Of course being a young woman can have both its advantages and problems. It's
not unknown for a young boy to get rather, how shall I put it ..."
Jane shuffled nervously, she felt uncomfortable and couldn't bring herself to look
up.
"... excited." The headmaster added. "Not always a good idea to have them over
your lap unless you want to be cleaning your skirt afterwards." He Headmaster
laughed at his own humour. "You'll get used to such things of course. You know I
think some of our female colleagues quite enjoy their work with the boys."
Jane looked up to see the Headmaster staring at her chest. She began to wish
she hadn't undone the button.
The Headmaster looked on in amusement at Jane's discomfort as she adjusted
her blouse. He started to feel he was beginning to understand his newly appointed
house mistress.
"Would you do me the favour of removing your skirt Miss Fellows?"
Jane knew even before the Headmaster had finished his question, although they
both knew it wasn't really a question, what was about to happen. She suddenly felt
sixteen once again.
"Humour me if you will Miss Fellows. Perhaps this will help you assert yourself, if
you are to get on in this school you must learn. I will say exactly what must happen
and your compliance will show your acceptance of both authority generally and the
school rules in particular, this is what you must expect of your students. Listen
carefully, do as you are told and you may just learn something very important about
the way these things are conducted."
There was a silence as the Headmaster took a sip of his Brandy and Jane slowly
unzipped her skirt and let it drop to the floor.
"Very good. For this little demonstration you may consider yourself once again the
naughty young girl called to my office. If you'd be so kind as to undo the remainder of
the buttons on your blouse I should like to see you as I most fondly remember.
You were I seem to recall a frequent visitor to this office. In fact I think I still have
some of the snapshots that Mr. Alford used to take, you'll remember him I'm sure.
No longer with us but his artistic legacy remains."
What started to unfold surprised both Jane and the Headmaster although in
slightly different ways. With each instruction Jane lost more and more of her
garments.
The clock seemed to wind back through the years as Jane fellows once again
undressed herself while the Headmaster looked on. With a tap of the cane she
undid the clasp to her bra and stood with her hands covering her pale breasts.
With another tap of the cane she lowered her panties down her slender legs.
If anything Jane looked even more ravishing than he had remembered. Her body
now that of a twenty three year old young woman was undeniably attractive, in fact
in his opinion quite perfect. Her breasts firm and heavy, her slim waist and well
rounded bottom. He wondered what had happened to her in the intervening years,
she seemed to lack a certain worldliness, she had a naivety the Headmaster
found irresistible. She stood shyly trying to cover her nakedness having removed
her clothes with barely a hint of complaint.
"You'll find that in these matters a certain routine can help." The Headmaster
tapped the cane on Jane's hands which she immediately lowered. "You see how
well people respond to the familiar." He smiled.
Like years ago Jane just did as she was told. She pulled her hands away from her
breasts so that he could look at her, she parted her legs when she felt the tap of
the cane and she obligingly bent forward and held the edge of the desk ready to
receive the cane across her bare bottom.
The Headmaster tapped her legs once more so that Jane stood with her feet well
apart, the jewel of her pussy displayed open and inviting. He tapped her shoulders
so that she lowered herself to let her magnificent breasts hang as if she were
waiting to be suckled by eager lips. He stroked the cane across her buttocks. He
was stiff with excitement.
Jane felt the cane touching her, she could feel herself tighten ready for the first
stinging blow. When it came she felt the tears start to flood out, the same tears that
she had felt as a young girl as she'd counted the strokes across her bottom
The Headmaster, rigid with pleasure, watched Jane convulse each time the cane
marked another line across her pale white skin. She cried but each time offered
herself for another stroke, lessons she'd learnt well.
Jane could feel the lines branded across her bottom each one a small submissive
token to the Headmasters authority. Between the strokes she felt his hand
between her legs. She remembered as a young girl how he had explored her to
see if she had had the audacity to enjoy herself. It was all part of the ritual that she
should allow her breasts to be squeezed, her genitals to be stroked. The very
public fondling of her private areas was almost worse than the strokes of the cane.
She could recollect the humiliation of being the show piece in front of the fire as
one man slipped his fingers into her while the others looked on enjoying their
drinks waiting for their turn to inspect the naughty little girl.
After six strokes the headmaster walked around the opposite side of the desk and
cleared away the few papers that lay on the green leather desk top. Jane knew only
too well what was to follow as he opened a desk drawer and took out a small jar.
"Over you go my dear," was all he said.
Jane stood slowly, naked apart from the glasses she still wore magnifying her tear
stained eyes. She stepped forward and and bent over the desk, her breasts
pressed onto the worn leather desktop.
"Good girl," the headmaster encouraged. "If you be so good as to open up. I must
compliment you Miss Fellows on your willingness to learn, your future at this
school looks much brighter."
Jane closed her eyes and with both hands reached back and carefully ran her
hands across her bottom, she felt the marks of the cane before she reluctantly yet
obediently pulled herself apart.
The Headmaster returned to the far side of the desk to gaze at the sight Jane
offered him. It was he thought the most suitable punishment for a naughty girl.
Jane remembered how while she stood in front of the fire the men would use an
old silver coin. The winner getting the pleasure and the privilege of completing her
punishment. It became a ritual for them to humiliate her in this manner, an
honorable school tradition they called it. The evening building up into a climax until
her bottom raw from the cane, would be filled with the sperm of the drunken
winner. A small plug would first be used to open her out. There would be laughter
and more brandy as they greased her and forced the plug into her tight anal
passage. She'd stand with the plug pushed deep in her bottom until the coin gave up
a winner with Jane as the prize.
It was a punishment reserved for the few and to this day the Headmaster couldn't
remember a girl who had been sodomized more often or by more of the honorable
masters of the school than Jane Fellows. A tradition they'd say as though it was an
honour to receive. Caned and then plugged she'd refill the brandy glasses, the
Headmaster and his cronies shamelessly groping her before her final penetrative
humiliation.
Jane had never been able to easily accept the intrusion. It had the Headmaster
remembered been both an erotic and at times a comic sight to watch the young
Jane Fellows, her naked young frame bent forward, knuckles white as she gripped
the edge of the desk, her peach of a bottom painfully speared. She'd beg for it to
stop, unaware that her plaintive moans made the act of penetrating her all the
more pleasurable. It was no different now and it took some considerable time
before the Headmaster breached the tight flower of her anus.
With his rigid cock buried deep in her bottom, tightening with each little stifled
scream Dr. Anthony Winchester could feel his inexorable mounting state of
excitement, Jane Fellows bent and obedient once more learning her lesson. He
had retrieved photographs from the bottom of an old filling cabinet a few days
before. Photographs of a young girl, rather more graphic than he remembered, at
various stages of receiving the traditional Oaklands correction. He wondered if he
still had that old silver coin. Her punishment as a schoolgirl had never been
private, the expression on her tear stained face always a focus of interest to the
select few who'd see each thrust etched across her features all eagerly awaiting
the climactic humiliation as the winner would finally empty himself inside her.
Jane felt herself pushed forcefully against the corner of the desk, she reached
back and pulled herself wider offering herself for his final desperate thrusts. The
spasm of her guts milking the seed from his urgent engorged cock. The flush of
humiliation of the naughty young girl hit her full force as she felt him discharge
himself deep inside her bowels.
It was the Headmasters turn to feel weak at the knees as he completed Jane's
lesson. From head to toe he felt the force of his eruption into her trembling
distended rectal passage, the tourniquet of her sphincter squeezing pulse after
pulse of warm white semen from his cock buried deep in her young, sublime and
obedient arse.
Jane Fellows made her way back down the long dark corridor to her modest
rooms. She wore her blouse and skirt and carried her underwear in her hand, a
dribble of the Headmaster's ejaculate running down the back of her thigh. She
would have looked a strange sight had anyone encountered her.
The Headmaster sipped another glass of Brandy. He smiled as he remembered
how they used to send Jane back to her dormitory, always without her panties, in
fact on occasions without her nightdress, bare feet on the cold stones, red stripes
on her beaten and freshly buggered bottom. Jane Fellows was he thought the
most welcome addition to the school, There were a number of staff he was sure
who'd welcome the chance to take part in a little teacher training.
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