The Dominant Male

down, bare bum in the air.
    ‘Twelve, and count, “One Sir, thank you Sir,” and so on, understand?’
    ‘Yes, Sir.’
    Slap!
    It burned across her bottom, but without diminishing her excitement.
    ‘One Sir, thank you Sir,’ she found it was really quite humiliating, and also very exciting, to have to be so obedient verbally. But she really wanted to please, despite the hurt.
    Each stroke was harder than the one before. Each time it was a little harder to get the words out, without the pain showing too much, until, ‘Twelve Sir, thank you Sir.’
    ‘What do you say now?’ He held the strap in front of him.
    ‘Thank you for my punishment, Sir,’ and knelt and kissed the strap.
    ‘The cane now, I think.’
    ‘Whatever you say, Sir.’
    To her surprise his man brought over a very light cane. Then she remembered, with trepidation. She’d promised she’d not do it in class, but …
    He motioned her back down.
    ‘Twelve, but this time, just count the hard ones, “One, Sir”, “Two, Sir”…’
    The feeling of impending doom intensified. She thought she knew what was going to come. She was. Damn all she could do about it, too.
    ‘Yes Sir.’
    He positioned her carefully, lined himself up and began, with light tapping strokes.
    She found the muscles between her legs tensing in a most interesting way: then he threw in a hard one, that had those muscles relax and tense again.
    ‘One, Sir.’
    More rapid strokes, another hard one.
    ‘Two, Sir.’
    She felt the orgasm building inside her.
    ‘Three, Sir.’
    ‘Four, Sir.’
    ‘Five, Sir.’
    It happened on the sixth stroke.
    Instead of counting, she came with a ferocity she’d never before experienced and just began giggling, uncontrollably.
    ‘Control yourself, girl!’
    She did her best. She noticed people were beginning to stare.
    ‘Six, Sir.’
    This time he teased her with light strokes, for much longer than usual, then predictably on the next hard stroke, she came and came again, giggling loudly and manically, collapsing onto the floor as her knees buckled, her cheeks at both ends bright red, and the whole room went silent and stared.
    ‘Timothy!’ from across the room.
    Louise came steaming over.
    ‘Enough!’
    ‘Get up, go upstairs, sort yourself out and come down in your other uniform,’ to Wendy.
    Wendy scurried out of the room. She splashed her face with cold water in the ladies, then her bum, blew her nose and used the loo. She fetched her handbag and used tissues and cleaner to scrub every last trace of make-up off her face.
    ‘The other uniform?’ She must mean the uniform that she’d worn to school for a laugh. But how did she know?
    Once again she realised that things were going on behind her back, she’d been set up and it was probably going to happen again. Worse things happen at sea , she thought to herself, as mother used to say .
    She peeled off the uniform. The knickers were soaked between her legs, and she used the dry bits to mop up some more, and stripped off the rest and put it back in the bag.
    She put on the drab, white Y-fronts, boy’s grey shirt and tie, grey shorts, knee length grey turnover-top socks and black, lace-up shoes. Her breasts strained under the shirt.
    One last splash of cold water on her face in the ladies, and she felt ready to take whatever came, so set off down the stairs.
    Louise was waiting at the foot of the stairs.
    ‘Stand still!’
    She pinned a HEAD BOY badge onto her shirt.
    ‘The new Head Boy, Bill Black, will now see any naughty boys needing punishment.’ She announced to the room.
    ‘You’re first, Stephen,’ grabbing him by the ear.
    ‘Come with me, Stephen,’ she heard herself saying, and led him over to a convenient seat by the other ear. I could get used to this , she thought.
    She patted her lap.
    ‘Over you go!’
    She then demonstrated that she knew how to spank properly. Steven was in his forties, an office worker she guessed, an indifferent spanker she’d remembered, but he was reacting with much more enthusiasm to being spanked.
    There were several men watching. They didn’t really form a queue, but she found that once she finished with one, she had a steady supply of men to spank, strap and cane.
    She’d wished the earth would have swallowed her up, just before going upstairs, but she gradually recovered her confidence and composure, with each man, or ‘boy’ (as she found it easier to think of them), she dealt with.
    One of those volunteers to be spanked was