Safely hidden - or so she imagines - behind the gardener's shed in a quiet corner of the school grounds, Kerry leisurely exhales the smoke from a surreptitious cigarette. Final exams finished there's no harm in kicking back and relaxing. She's taken great pains to avoid detection, doesn't want to blot her academic record and jeopardise a promised University place.
An unexpected hand on her shoulder makes Kerry start in fright, turning quickly to discover who has tracked her down. Could be worse, is Kerry's first thought. Rather than a teacher, Kieran, the rather dishy assistant groundsman, looms over her. Kerry is far from the only female sixth former to appreciate his saturnine good looks.
"You scared me," gasps Kerry, hurriedly grinding the incriminating evidence underfoot.
"Bit pointless trying to hide it," observes Kieran, "you've been caught, young lady. We'd better go inside and have a little chat."
Kerry feels a stab of anxiety; he surely isn't intending to report this transgression? Warily she follows the dark-haired young man into the gloomy confines of his workplace.
"You're not going to..." Kerry lets the sentence hang unfinished, doing her best to project an impression of wide-eyed innocence.
"Tell on you to the teachers, should do by rights," responds Kieran laconically.
"I'm 18, legally old enough to smoke," ventures Kerry with a hint of defiance.
"Old enough for a lot of things, but still against school rules. You should know being one of the clever ones in the top set."
"How could you possibly be aware of that?" Kerry is shocked.
"By listening, weeding flowerbeds outside classroom windows I hear all sorts - quite enough to know how much trouble you could be in."
"So, you'll let me off," whispers Kerry beguilingly.
"Never said so," replies Kieran brusquely. "Might choose not to inform the headteacher, but you still deserve to be punished, smoking's a filthy habit, it's not as if your generation isn't told about the dangers."
"You're right," Kerry looks downcast, "but what do you mean, punished?"
"Properly, physically, not just for what you've done, as a future deterrent."
"What, like spank me or something? You can't be serious, no one does that anymore."
"Don't seem like you've much of a choice," says Kieran coolly, "think of the consequences if you don't agree."
Kerry does, shuddering at the prospect of her parent's reaction - "not angry, just very disappointed," followed by weeks of passive aggressive guilt-tripping, better to get this over with now.
"Alright", she agrees, "but you promise not to ever let on?"
"I'll keep my word so long as you do what you're told," he answers firmly, "start by bending over that workbench."
Hesitantly Kerry leans forward, staring fixedly ahead, weight supported on her forearms. Glossy, shoulder-length fair hair partly obscuring her pretty face, uniform blouse tight against straining breasts, skirt - far shorter than regulation length - revealing taught thighs and long straight legs; altogether enticing.
"Like this?" she enquires timidly.
"Perfect," replies Kieran rolling up his sleeves to reveal tanned forearms, "now get that skirt up, girl."
"No, you mustn't make me..."
"You agreed to this," his tone is so compelling her fingers scramble to obey, revealing an absolute peach of a bottom covered by dark tights and tiny white knickers. Kieran experiences an immediate stiffening of his manhood and momentarily can't trust himself to speak, instead placing a restraining hand on Kerry's slender waist he brings the other sharply down across those deliciously pert nether cheeks.
"Oof!" Kerry grits her teeth, scared to cry out lest someone hear and investigate. Further spanks follow, his work-calloused palm rhythmically slapping her buttocks. Kerry's feet stamp in mute protest as her poor bottom begins to sting.
He stops. She gives an audible sigh. Is that it? Wasn't too bad, bum's smarting yet Kerry is also aware of a rather more enjoyable sensation between her thighs.
