A Note to His Teacher

A Note to His Teacher

By Cynthia Blaine

This story includes caning as well as masturbation. If this offends you, please read no further. All characters are 18 or over.

My mother grimaced when she reviewed my 12th grade report card. I was a senior in high school and already had turned 18 over the summer. I had a mix of grades on the report card: 2 A's, 1 B, 1D, and yes, 1 F. The F was in English, and it was from a new teacher this year, Miss Kayden, who was very attractive--blonde and shapely, probably in her late 20s--but also very strict. Miss Kayden watched us like a hawk when she was presenting material.

Any time she saw someone not paying attention, for any reason, she made a mark in her grade book. On my report card, she had written: "Jack is obviously bright, but he doesn't pay attention in class. When I am speaking, I see him looking at others or in a book. He has done acceptably on tests but has failed because of his tendency to avoid listening to me."

My mother looked at me and asked, "Why can't you focus on her? I gather she's nice to look at, so what's the problem?"

I replied that I guess I had screwed up. I apologized and said I would pay attention from now on. I wasn't going to tell mom that Miss Kayden was failing me because she kept catching me trying to look up her skirt as well as some of the girls' skirts.

"I'm going to write your teacher a note," my mother then declared. "She needs to know that I've spoken to you about this." The next morning, she handed me an envelope--it was pink, like her stationery--and told me to give this to Miss Kayden, without opening it.

I wondered what she said but didn't dare try to open the envelope, mainly because Miss Kayden would obviously see that I had done that, and I'd then be in real trouble.

The pink envelope bothered me a lot but when I went to English class, I handed Miss Kayden the envelope and said, "This is a note from my mother, Miss." She took it from me without saying anything.

At the end of class, she called me up to her desk. "Do you have lunch now, or another class?" she asked. I told her that I had lunch.

"Then stay here," she said. "I need to speak with you." When everyone else had left the classroom, I sat down at a desk facing her.

"Jack," Miss Kaden now began, "your mother has sent me a very interesting note. She clearly is an astute lady and I respect what she has written. She knows that our school district has reinstated corporal punishment, and a number of teachers have paddles, as I'm sure you're aware. Your mother suggests that I discipline you for your lack of attention which resulted in your getting a failing grade. As a teacher here, I have wide discretion in how I punish you.

"Have you ever been paddled by a teacher?" she asked.

I answered that I had not been paddled.

"Well," she said, "your mother just happens to have the same view of this as I do. I'd very much like to meet her. But she has suggested that I punish you in front of the class and has given her consent to whatever kind of punishment, whatever implement, I might decide to use. You do know that some teachers do this after school, but others do it in class. My tendency is to carry out such punishment in class, so the others will recognize what they might receive if they misbehave."

"Are you going to paddle me in front of the class then, Miss?" I asked, fearing the answer.

"Yes, I am going to punish you in front of the class," she replied, with a slight smile. I could see that she loved the idea of applying her paddle to my bottom.

"There's one more thing, though," she added. "When I punish you in front of the class, your trousers and underpants will be taken down and you will be caned on your bare bottom. I imagine you have never been caned before?"

"No," I said, suddenly being very unhappy and scared with the direction this conversation had taken.

"You will feel a very stinging sensation for some time after you receive a caning," she advised me. "I think it will correct your attitude and you will focus on listening in class and not allowing your eyes and mind to wander. In particular, Jack, you will stop trying to look up my skirt or any other skirts in the class."

She then concluded by saying that I would be caned tomorrow in class.

"I guess there's nothing I could do to make up for what I've done," I asked. "I really am sorry for not paying attention and will not do that ever again."

"I appreciate your regret," she answered, "but I've decided that you need to receive a dose of the cane to make sure you remember what you are promising. By the way, I suspect you don't know that your mother suggested that I use my cane. She wrote to me that being caned when she was in school did wonders for focusing her attention on school. I haven't yet caned anyone this year, or since I've been in this school, but I have a lot of experience with it in the places I've previously taught.

"I intend to write to your mother and would like you to sit there while I do that and I'll give you a return note for her," Miss Kaden said.

I just sat at the desk and nodded that I would wait.

She sat down at her desk and took out some crisp white stationery and began to write with her fountain pen. Although she was only in her 20's, I concluded that she liked being a traditional old-fashioned teacher, one who enjoyed applying her cane to the bare bottoms of pupils who got out of line as she saw it.

She finished the note, inserted it in the envelope, sealed the envelope, and handed it to me. It had my mother's name written on the front in a very well-handwritten script.

I thanked her for the note and took it before I left the room as quickly as I could.

When I got home, I didn't waste any time handing the note to my mother. She gave it a look and then opened it.

"I'll read what she says to you, so you know what she has told me about you," she said. "She writes: 'Dear Mrs. Landon: I very much appreciate your taking the time to write to me about Jack's behavior. I was so pleased that you suggested that I use the cane to discipline him and that I plan to do just that in tomorrow's class. It is my view too that the cane is most effective in correcting pupils who do not pay attention in class. You should know, of course, that when Jack's gaze wanders, he also tries to look up my skirt and those of the girls in the class. In return for your taking the time to write to me, I will seriously consider revising Jack's grade upward should he participate in class and stop looking up skirts, as I expect he will in the next few weeks. Sincerely yours, Lauren Kaden"

"I've never caned you, Jack," my mother said coolly, "but this young woman will definitely show you what it is like. I predict you will not like it, but you have gotten yourself into this pickle so I hope you will do what she says so she will remove that nasty F from your report card. I think this is just the thing to get your attention. Don't even think about taking a sick day tomorrow. And wear clean underwear. By the way, why are you looking up skirts? Women and girls find that very offensive and I'm not surprised Miss Kayden is punishing you for that. Cut it out right now. You have girlfriends, for crying out loud. Do they let you look up their skirts? OK, you don't have to answer that. But don't do it in school."

Her telling me what Miss Kaden had written made me feel that it would be good to get that F changed but that I was going to have a really bad time tomorrow. The worst part was something I only learned about much later, after I had grown up, that I was fixated on the upcoming caning--I couldn't think of anything else--and I was thinking about how many strokes I would get, and get this, I worried about how the kids in the class would react if I cried or screamed. I figured this was going to hurt like hell.

I had been spanked, usually by my mother, and it hurt enough that I did what I could do avoid getting into trouble, at least the kind of trouble that would earn me a spanking from my mother. My brother and sister still got spanked, too, and my mother didn't let up on any of us.

The next day arrived: Miss Kaden's class was again the last one before lunch. When I got there and sat down at my desk, about halfway back down the center of the room, Miss Kaden started speaking.

"Today, we're going to begin with something that seems to have to occur here every so often. Jack has failed to pay attention in class, received a failing grade in this class, and will now be disciplined for his misbehavior. His mother has been advised that this is happening, and she has consented entirely to my disciplining him," she said coolly.

Then she waved her finger at me to come up to the front. Kids had not been punished this way all that often at our school. I had seen a boy paddled once on his bare bottom and a girl who was very brazen in her behavior had been punished with the paddle on her panties. The cane was definitely something new--at least for me. I had a sinking feeling that Miss Kaden had caned pupils before--if not here then at her previous schools. I was a little pleased, however, that she didn't mention what obviously had pissed her off: my trying to look up her skirt. I just had to find out what kind of panties she had on.

"Take down your trousers, Jack, and then your underpants," she ordered in a very calm voice that brooked no opposition and I did exactly what she said. I heard a little giggling as my bare bum was visible now. She walked me around to place my arms across her desk and told me to hold on to the other side and not let go. "If you let go or move, the stroke will not count. If you do it again, I will go back and start at the beginning." Definitely that got me to focus on holding on for all I was worth.

Now I was positioned with my bottom prominently bare and directly in sight of the whole class. I figured that since she made me keep my legs well apart, they could probably see my junk up front through them. I was aware of the cool air on my bared bottom and also the eyes of all the pupils focused on it, especially the girls.

Miss Kaden took a crook-handled cane from the sideboard where it had been. She swished it in the air a few times which made me take in my breath and be all the more concerned with how I was going to feel in a few seconds.

Then she stood behind me to one side, drew back the cane (not that I could see that) and suddenly struck me across my bottom with it. It hurt when it hit me, but a few seconds later, the sting really hurt. She waited a bit, maybe thirty seconds but it seemed forever, and then struck again. This time I couldn't help crying out because it really hurt, and the worst thing was that it didn't stop hurting.

I didn't know how many strokes she was going to give me. I just concentrated on holding on to the other side of her desk. She snapped the cane again and each time, it seemed she aimed slightly below the previous cane stroke. I screamed this time, and she still waited another thirty seconds and again hit me hard with the cane, a bit below the last stroke. Then she gave me another strong stroke right away and I almost let go out of surprise.

I figured she was trying to trick me. I had to cry out, but I made sure to keep holding on. It turned out that the next stroke was the sixth stroke. It was a really hard one and went right down the middle, crossing a few of the earlier ones. I had an incredible strain trying to hold on, but I did, even though I screamed bloody murder this time.

"You took six of the best rather well, Jack," Miss Kaden said, sounding like she was impressed with my fortitude. "You may pull up your underpants and your trousers and return to your seat."

Easier said than done. I did what she said but when I sat down, I was in a world of hurt. But I realized that I now had to pay close attention to whatever she said in class, although it felt horrible sitting there. Miss Kaden began discussing some book we were reading, it was "A Tale of Two Cities," I remember.

Then she said that the important thing for us to know about this book was that Dickens had shown us how bad the poor people had it in pre-Revolutionary France, but that what came with Revolution was bad, too. You know, Madame Defarge knitting while people were executed and all that.

After she had been speaking, she asked if there were any questions. One girl who usually sucked up asked her if the author, Dickens, had actually seen any of this happen. Miss Kaden thought for a moment and then suddenly looked at me and asked if I knew the answer to Kate's question.

I had heard what Kate had asked and knew that Dickens lived like in the middle of the 19th century. The French Revolution occurred in the last 18th century. I took a chance and said, "Miss, he lived somewhat later than when the French Revolution had happened, so I suppose he had heard and read a lot about it, but it was over before he was alive."

Miss Kaden smiled and said, "Excellent, Jack. I see that you have been paying attention despite your being disciplined. Very good. And Kate, you have been the first to benefit from Jack's refocusing on what is discussed in this class, aided perhaps by his being disciplined today."

The class proceeded and I was quite happy with what had happened after my painful and shameful caning by Miss Kaden on my bared bottom. At the bell, we stood to file out and Miss Kaden smiled at me. She told me she was very pleased with my improved attitude and that I should stop by at the end of the day because she would have a note to deliver to my mother.

As I then walked out of the room, a very attractive girl in our class, Beverly, spoke to me in a kind way. She told me that she was very impressed by my ability to respond to class questions and that she would like to study with me some time. I told her with a grin that I'd be delighted to take her up on that offer. She laughed and said she wouldn't embarrass me by telling me how cute she thought my bottom looked with the red stripes inflicted by Miss Kaden.

I mildly responded that I hoped there wouldn't be much need to fret about my bottom once I found it comfortable to sit on it again. I added that I'd hope to hear from her as to when we might study together.

At the end of the day, I returned to Miss Kaden's classroom. She had another gleaming white envelope which no doubt contained, on her personal stationery, a note to my mother.

"I suspect your mother will be pleased at my note," she said in a warm tone. "I hope this does mean that my correction has accomplished what I intended to happen when I decided to cane you, Jack. You will indeed find it uncomfortable to sit for a few days but your change in attitude has been remarkable and I intend to do everything I can to encourage it."

She stood up and locked the classroom door. "Now don't be upset but I do want you to take down your trousers and underpants now, not for punishment, but so I can apply some soothing cream to those stripes on your bottom," she said warmly. "So, get across my lap for this, and no, I'm not going to spank you!" she laughed.

I did what she said to do and did not feel terribly self-conscious about displaying my bottom, red stripes and all, to her. In fact, it felt really nice to be across her skirted lap. She took out a jar of some kind of cream and used her fingertips to massage my bottom softly. After the initial shock when she touched my stripes, it started to feel good, and I was indeed embarrassed because I could not keep myself from being aroused enough to have an erection.

I was mature for my age, since as an 18-year-old boy, I sported a full growth of pubic hair around my penis. Miss Kaden apparently took notice of my excited state. I realized that her skirt had ridden up a bit, not enough to expose her panties, but my hard-on was pressing into her thigh. So, I was most pleasantly surprised when she put some more cream on her fingertips and proceeded to rub it up and down my hard shaft.

I was not at all ready for a girl, and here a woman no less, and a very attractive one at that, to give me what I was just learning to call a hand job. Then, the fact that she was my English teacher who had caned me that very morning, did make me react by becoming that much more excited and yes, I spurted into her warm hand. I was lucky it went into her hand and not on her skirt, which was a nice navy cotton one and stylishly short. She merely smiled, picked up a tissue, and rubbed the cum off her dainty white hand. She gave me one more rub and teased me, no less, by running her nail up my now not-so-hard penis.

Then she suggested I pull up my undershorts and trousers, gave me a kiss on my forehead, and told me to give the note she handed to me to my mother. When I got home, I did give my mom the note. She asked me how the day had gone. I told her that Miss Kaden gave me a very hard caning on my bare bottom but that she invited me back at the end of the day so that she could apply cream to the red stripes she had inflicted on my bottom cheeks. I decided not to mention her massaging of my member or her mentioning about my trying to peek up her skirt.

My mom opened the note and said, "You did well, Jack. I'm sorry you had to be caned, but it sounds like Miss Kaden is now quite impressed by your behavior. By the way, she tells me in the note that she will revise your previous grade of F to a B-plus."

I received a kiss on my cheek from my mom, who told me she really was sorry that I had those nasty stripes on my behind. She made me take down my pants yet again so she could look at them. I think she noticed my nice-sized penis and ball sac: she smiled and said she liked the look of "my equipment" and that I would likely become quite popular when the girls got to know about my physical attainment. I thought about that study date that Bev had promised me. Then she dismissed me and said my father would be pleased.

Finally, she gave me a stern look and said she would really make me sorry if I got into any more trouble for looking up skirts. "If you're so interested in panties, you know, I can have you wearing them all the time," she threatened. "And I'll have your sister supervising your wearing them, too."

That was really scary, because Jan is a couple of years younger than I am and would get an unholy delight in making me wear her panties.

Now I'm worried that if I get into trouble, my parents are likely to cane me, in addition to putting me in panties. My mom has been the one who has spanked me as I grew up. Nevertheless, I haven't been spanked, much less caned, for quite some time, for years. I don't want to be caned again anytime soon, by Miss Kaden, other teachers, or my mom.

Yet I can't get one thing out of my mind: I keep conjuring up an image of the lovely Miss Kaden lifting her skirt and lowering what I imagine to be fancy panties to expose her gorgeous bottom. In my dreams, I find myself hoping to be asked by her to apply her own whippy cane to her bare bottom.