This is a continuation of a previously submitted story of pure fantasy, and I'd suggest best read after the previous chapter/story. Again, my initial comments from that story still apply, but thank you for reading and thanks for the lovely comments of support and encouragement.
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The final bell sounded on Tuesday afternoon and jolted her into action. Today she was quicker than usual to pack, and moved as rapidly as she felt she could without giving her history teacher any reason to make any more complaints. Thursday seemed like such a long time ago, but then memories flooded back with an intensity that still shocked her, and yet here she was again heading off to his office as arranged, albeit at a much quicker pace this time.
Last Thursday she'd arrived home late, barely moments before her parents had from their work, relieved to avoid the awkward explanations, made some excuse and hid in her room. She'd stood and looked at the woman staring back in the mirror, rather than the girl that had left that morning and replayed her visit to his study realising a line had been crossed, even though she'd lost her virginity a year earlier in a rather unsatisfying fumble with a then boyfriend. she'd quickly undressed from her school uniform and with the door locked, she'd stood naked and turned to inspect her sore tushy in the full-length mirror.
She'd surprised herself at how the general redness had faded quickly, but she'd run her fingers over the tramlines that his cane had left, and which were raised and red still, and there were a few other marks that she'd presumed were from the tawse he'd used. Even running her panties down had smarted, and she really didn't want to try sitting. But even as she ran her hands over the marks the ache and warmth returned and she knelt leant over her bed and screwed her eyes tight shut, desperate to summon back the hot excitement of her earlier experience. Her fingers sneaked down between her legs and dipped into her aching wet gash and she rode the heady mixture of the recent history along with her own wicked imagination of him slipping his cock inside her to drive her to a crescendo, and even as she shuddered through her first crashing orgasm, stifling her moans, burying her head into her duvet, she reached for her wooden hairbrush and clumsily spanked herself. The nerves firing on her already sore bottom produced a second orgasm that left her breathless and unable to move until the aftershocks finally subsided.
She'd showered as gently as she could, and had somehow dressed and sat gingerly for dinner, & made it through the evening. School the next day had been difficult, with strange looks from her friends partly due to a more appropriate uniform, but also as she'd struggled to sit. But she'd surprised herself at her own fortitude, and at first merely accepted but then later owned her soreness and the marks. To her they were valuable currency and also proof of concept.
Over the next few days whenever she closed her eyes in her private moments, the hot memories broke over her like a wave on the beach, and then her own imagination jumped right on in there with crazy piquant ideas from the depths of some of her most private fantasies and she found herself tumbling around inside the jumbled mix of hot reality and hotter fantasy, and she'd feasted till she'd come shuddering to her self-induced orgasm.
She felt her breath hitch and her face flush as she recalled her parting comment, and then she'd feel the warmth spread and her labia slip and she'd clench her sex up tight to make it worse, thinking again of the punishment apparatus and being bent over it helplessly as the cane scourged her bottom again and again, excited to know she'd take it all and more.
Monday the nerves returned a little, she flushed as she saw him at a distance, and couldn't suppress the tiniest of shudders at the thought of her fast-approaching appointment. And now Tuesday was here, and here she was again on her way to his office once again with the twisted knots in her tummy and the excited warmth seeping through to her sex, not helped by the purposeful stride of the rapid walk, and the bitter sweet anguish that thrilled her so.
Her footsteps on the tiled floor echoed along the approach to his office, and she turned the left corner into the blind return that contained only the door to his office, plus a bench seat, which she realised this time she'd have to use since the red light above the door indicated he was otherwise engaged.
She sighed at the inconvenience of the delay, wondering how long she might have to wait, and sat on the slatted bench with the tumbling of her own tummy causing her to clench her sex and feeling the warmth of her wet labia contract, knowing her panties were quite damp. Closing her eyes, she forced herself to breathe more deeply trying to calm herself, struggling with the contradicting emotions of thrill and dread that seemed to smash themselves together somewhere in her core.
For the thousandth time since she'd somehow found the brazen courage on her last visit to ask him to fuck her, tied to the punishment stand that had both fascinated and scared her, she'd cycled through a strange and uplifting sense of achievement, partially tempered by the fear of what he might do in reprisal, but with the excitement of recalling the astonished and shocked look on his face further exacerbated by the sudden hungry and predatorial look that flashed into his dark eyes. The line had already been crossed and no matter how inappropriate it might seem to others, it felt so right and so good to her, and she was sure that dangerous flash of something dark and primal she'd captured in his eyes for the briefest of moments, telegraphed his desire loud and clear.
But the sickness she felt sat waiting to enter was still difficult, and she realised again that while she thought she had the measure of him, she was still about to voluntarily enter a room that contained a potentially dangerous animal that she could not control, and yet she had this weird feeling of being content.
A click of the lock at the door snapped her back to here and now of the corridor and she watched as the large oak door opened a few inches and a hand reached around to open it fully. She recognised the girl that the open door revealed as a fellow senior student, and for the briefest of moments their eyes met with an embarrassed look before the eye contact broke.
The other girl seemed flushed and more than a little embarrassed to be witnessed leaving his office, and Hayley couldn't help but wonder what she may have gone through, somewhat piqued at the thought that his attention was shared, a small stab of jealousy pricking at her for the briefest moments until the buzzer announced the green light above his door.
She stood, dropped her arms to her side, took a deep breath, willed her tumbling stomach to steady, and forced her feet to move, and lifted her right hand to knock the door, heard his voice call "Come", and twisted the door knob, pushing hard against the solid wood, somehow finding her voice to say "Good afternoon Sir!"
He was perched on the edge of his desk, arms crossed in front of him, a quizzical smile framed his dark eyes but which did nothing to dull her feeling that the wicked flash of his eyes saw everything. On the desk she spotted a small paddle presumably used on the girl she'd just witnessed leaving his office, and again she felt a jealous pang which she hoped he couldn't see.
"Good afternoon Hayley. And how are we today? It's nice of you to be on time, and wearing something more appropriate, although still not quite strictly to the required skirt length I see" but the smile that accompanied the comment seemed to imply approval rather than being critical.
