Greta checked her watch once more. With a sigh she crossed to the large leather armchair that dominated the small study. She sat neatly down, crossing long legs as a small frown creased her pretty brow. He was late, again; But these days Hansel was always late; it was as if he enjoyed keeping her waiting.
She relaxed slightly into the chair, remembering that it had been a present from her old private Tutor. The only sign of her irritation was the soft drumming of her sharp fingernails on the worn leather arm.
Greta's mind drifted back to the extra crammer lessons she had taken whilst at college. To the time that Hansel, who was never late in those days, had been infatuated enough to follow her through the woods to her Tutors cottage.
Of course he pretended not to be following her; sometimes she could see him through the trees, sometimes not; but she was aware of his presence, felt an almost magnetic pull towards him. She hadn't wanted him to follow; her lessons were a private affair; but her own infatuation with him was too strong and she didn't have the will to send him away.
After all he was a fine looking young man, with a well built athletic body. So she had arrived at Madame's house with her face slightly flushed and her breath only just under control. She had neither acknowledged his presence nor been able to get him out of her mind; consequently she was unprepared and could not keep her thoughts on her lesson.
Madame had not been one to let such absent mindedness slip by.
"Greta!" She had said, "You are not concentrating. Why should I allow you to waste my time?"
Greta had blushed. "Madame I am sorry. Usually I have no problem paying attention but today..."
Greta had looked imploringly into her teachers green eyes, willing her to understand, unwilling to confess the source of her distraction. Her face was hot with her own confusion. Madame was only a few years older than was, surely she understood these things?
Madame, however, took her responsibilities as a tutor very seriously. "I am very disappointed Greta; Usually you are such a good student. You work hard, and despite being only sixteen..."
Greta still couldn't concentrate. 'Sixteen and never been kissed' was the only thought in her head; 'at least never kissed by Hansel'.
She looked at the floor as an image of just such a thing grew in her imagination. After a time she became aware that Madame was silent, and looked up once more.
Once she was sure that she had Greta's attention Madame spoke. "You know what this means Greta. You know that I must punish you." She paused, letting her words sink in. "Go to the chair. Bend over one arm, and hold onto the other."
Greta could hardly believe that this was happening. She understood that her agreement with the tutor allowed for this sort of discipline, but up to now it simply had not been necessary. The mere threat had been enough to ensure good results. 'This was all because of Hansel', she thought; 'because of a boy I am to be punished. It isn't fair.'
Even so, she did as she was told. Inwardly she cursed as she felt the cool leather against her thighs; cursed her short skirt. The skirt, which, if she was honest, she had worn to entice him and which now would offer her scant protection. One arm of the chair pushed against her thighs, rounding her backside.
She held onto the other as instructed, pushing her face into the chairs' seat, smelling the leather of its cover for the first time.
"It is difficult to begin with," said Madame. "You must be brave. If you are not then I shall start again."
Greta could feel her skirt being firmly raised, and so she buried her face further into the chair, feeling her own hot breath bouncing off the leather.
The first was a sharp stinging shock, quickly followed by the second, on the other cheek, which left her holding her breath. It hurt!.
She could feel the imprints left by Madame's hand as if her soft skin had been branded. She had thought that her tutor would just get straight on with it; but Madame waited until Greta was breathing again, waited until her bottom started to feel as hot as her face did. Greta was learning a lesson in more ways than one.
The sound of smacks three and four echoed around the room and Greta instinctively knew that she would never forget the very distinctiveness of the noise of palm upon posterior. Neither would she forget the sharp heat that now throbbed across her bottom.
Madame began gently to pull Greta's knickers down over her reddened buttocks. "The last two will be on the bare." It was a statement of fact and brooked no argument from the younger woman; Greta felt her flimsy underwear settle at half mast on her legs and braced herself.
Madame waited again; waited until the tension in the body of her pupil slightly dissipated. Then was the time to strike.
Number five was harder than the others and for the first time Greta began to lose control. "Aaah!" She gasped and then sucked her breath in. At the same time she was intensely aware of Madame's command to be brave, so, willing herself to be just that she lifted her reddened cheeks to meet smack number six.
Madame had paused once more and Greta became aware of the picture she must make as her thighs began to tremble with the strain of holding her position. She was brave though, and held it; and the longer she held her position the more the throbbing in her backside spread, only answered by a mysterious throbbing in her belly.
Involuntarily her thigh muscles flexed, widening her legs and without really realising what she was doing Greta pushed her pelvis against the arm of the chair.
Madame, who might have been waiting for just such a sign, brought her hand skilfully down for smack number six. It was harder than before, just on the spot where cheek became thigh and Greta was unable to stop herself crying out. As she did so her back arched and her head rose up from the seat of the chair.
Her eyes were open wide at the shock of it - and were shocked even more to see Hansel looking through the window. Pressed up against the glass his face appeared distorted by a mixture of lust and wonder. "Oh no..!" wailed the young woman.
Greta had never seen Madame move so fast.
She was out of the room and back again, dragging a complaining Hansel by the earlobe, almost before Greta had a chance to get up out of the chair and to straighten her skirt. She certainly didn't have time to do anything with her knickers which settled in a lacy pile at her feet.
Never before had she seen Madame so angry either. Her tutor was hissing her words right into the ear that she held in such an impressive grip.
"What were you doing? Creeping about outside my home..... A peeping tom, that's what you are! I shall call the police!"
"No, please, anything but that.." said Hansel. "I followed Greta, I was just waiting for her. I'm sorry that I looked in."
Madame looked across at Greta, who nodded that this was the truth. Then she turned back to the hapless Hansel. "Stalking, now is it? Then I shall definitely have to call the police."
"Please, Madame..., I really will do anything to make amends; it was just the thought of seeing Greta that caused my bad behaviour.."
