Another evening found the train waiting in the platform for its allotted time to begin its journey. The guard's whistle blowing just as the door to the final, and first class, compartment opened and in tumbled Zephyrine, literally across besuited and respectable businessmen's knees. A grey pleated skirt bottom right upon Frederick Trowse's lap. A surprise and a delight.
"Ooh, sorry," she said making to rise, but a firm hand to her back held her down. That was James Marlston sitting next and beyond Frederick Trowse.
"Just rest there and recover. Tell me Zephyrine, were you ever spanked at school?"
"Um, not for many years. We don't get spanked in the Sixth form."
The carriage gave a particular lurch as it left the platform behind, smoke billowing past the window.
"Don't you now? Are you sure? Don't you think Mr Trowse should give you just a little spank for being naughty? Should you really have been showing us all those personal things, to say nothing of asking Mr Stubbs to demonstrate male masturbation yesterday, which, I have to say, he did very well indeed! I expect you were thinking of asking for further demonstrations this very evening, weren't you? Don't you think that deserves a spanking? Well?"
"I... I suppose..."
"Trowse, lift her skirt!"
The man had been unsure the day before. Concerned at what was going on. Seeming to worry what her father might think. Despite having the schoolgirl over his lap, despite his evident delight in having her rounded, pleated skirt covered bottom right on his lap, he was hesitant. James Marlston reached out and took the hem of Zephyrine's skirt and yanked it towards him, up and over her bottom, revealing the grey, uniform knickers and delightfully smooth thighs.
Hector had half wondered whether Zephyrine might have already dispensed with them. Might have come to the compartment already unrestricted around her sex, might have found it exciting to push through the crowded station like that with the likelihood that soon fingers, male fingers, would be pushing themselves under that skirt..
"And the knickers, Trowse. Always best to spank bare bottoms, isn't it?"
"I... yes... I suppose, um, certainly!"
Hector wondered at Trowse's experience. Had he spanked Mrs Trowse regularly once upon a time? He watched Trowse's indecision and James Marlston's firmness as the second man reached again and tugged. Plump, young womanly bottom cheeks came into view, pleasingly round and with dimples above the crack. It all looked very smackable! In need of a firm hand.
"Right, Trowse. Let her have it!"
And the indecision went. Frederick Trowse's hand went up and then came down -- smack! Hector smiled under his moustache. He was sure Trowse would have felt that but in a different way to Zephyrine. She flinched away from the hand, her bottom or rather her pelvis pushing down, her delightful cheeks coming together, and it was obvious what she would be pressing against. A real push down and against the front of Frederick Trowse's obscured trousers. Like Hector, he would be erect and would feel that pressing. Indeed, the smile that came over his somewhat worried looking face betrayed what he was feeling. He spanked again. And a third time.
Spanking does make a sound. Probably not audible in the next compartment given the sound of the train rattling over points but, nonetheless, it was prudent to release the girl and let her settle on a seat rather than spank more. Probably not discernable but if the sound of firm hand on flesh did prove audible the reality of the spanking might well surprise anyone coming to see what the noise was about.
"So, Zephyrine, what would you like to do today?" asked Hector. "Are you going to get on with your homework or had you another idea?"
The girl wriggled on her seat. Was her bottom perhaps a little sore or was it an indication of sexual arousal.
"I... I liked what I saw yesterday. I wondered if I could see... that again?"
"My penis, my erection," smiled Hector in a kindly way. Zephyrine's fingers went to her lips at the words, "or so you mean another of my colleagues? Who?"
Zephyrine grinned, "All," she said, "all four, please!"
It was very much as the men had hoped the evening before -- or, at least all but Frederick Trowse.
"And who first?" grinned James Marlston almost reaching for his fly. But Zephyrine pointed to Frederick Trowse. Perhaps because she had already felt his under her.