School's in Session

by Various Authors

  "How can you be certain? The last time I went to your house it was under your bed."

  I blushed at the reminder. One day, I really was going to read that thing. Maybe before school started next year.

  "Now, I think you need a reminder about who's in charge here. Go stand in the corner. I want your nose against the wall and your hands behind your back."

  By now, it was a familiar order and I obeyed without objection—I knew what happened to girls who objected and I hated that wooden pointer of his entirely too much to risk it. Besides which, I was still feeling sore from last night after I'd made the mistake of talking back when he was lecturing me on safety. I'd tried to explain that it had been Julia's idea to go shopping three hours out of town without telling anyone, but somehow he hadn't found that comforting. And it wasn't my fault that my cell phone had died, but he hadn't been impressed with that, either.

  Thankfully, despite the sternness in his gaze I knew that I wasn't really in trouble—yet. Josh had asked me to role play with him, and though I'd initially thought it was a silly idea, I'd agreed. It turned out that what I had thought was silly was hot. My pulse had picked up the minute I'd walked in the room and seen him waiting for me and it hadn't slowed. Even as I stood in the corner, my tummy was twisting in delicious, anticipatory knots that left me squirming. I could feel his eyes on my back and I wondered what he thought of the outfit I'd chosen.

  "Ms. Johnson, you may come here now."

  I turned and walked toward him, trying a suitably repentant look although I couldn't quite squelch my smile. "Michelle," I reminded him.

  "Do I need to bring out the paddle?" he asked with an arched brow.

  "No, Professor."

  "That's a good girl. You know why you're here. Why don't you tell me."

  My eyes widened in surprise. We hadn't discussed a backstory. "Um…"

  "'Um' is far from an acceptable answer, Ms. Johnson."

  "Yes, Sir."

  "So what did you do to earn punishment detention?"

  "I was naughty?" I guessed.

  "Yes, and how were you naughty?"

  "Ah…"

  "That's enough. Go to the blackboard. I want you to right 'naughty girls don't get to cum' twenty times and then maybe you'll be ready to discuss what brought you here today. It's really a lovely day—such a shame you have to spend it indoors."

  "Yes, Sir," I agreed, walking to the blackboard and picking up the brand new white chalk he'd laid out for me. I began to write, my hand shaking every time I wrote the word cum. Was it a sign of things to come, or was he only teasing me?

  I'd only written twelve sentences when I felt Josh standing behind me. I began the thirteenth one when I felt him seize my wrist and press it against the blackboard. My fingers tightened around the chalk until the piece snapped in half.

  "Naughty, naughty," he tsked in my ear. "Now look what you've done. Maybe I really shouldn't let you cum."

  "No, Sir. Please, Sir," I whimpered.

  "We'll see." His other hand circled around my waist making me shiver in hopeful anticipation as he unzipped my skirt and let it puddle at my feet. The length of his hardened cock pressed against my ass, leaving no doubt as to what he wanted. "Turn around and let me look at you."

  I obeyed, flushing as his eyes drank me in hungrily. No man had ever looked at me with so much longing. When I was around Josh, I felt like the only woman in the world. I felt treasured and I had become addicted to the feeling. I'd never known anyone who could be so firm and gentle all at once and as we dated, I came to appreciate how much I needed his discipline. Though I didn't know if I'd ever admit it, I'd even come to like parts of it.

  "You look good enough to eat," he murmured huskily and my sex clenched in response. "Whatever will I do with you, my naughty girl?"

  "Fuck me, Sir."

  "Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you?"

  "Very much, Sir."

  "Hmm…" He lifted his hand to caress the curve of my face. "Over the desk."

  I hesitated for an instant, unsure what purpose I was fulfilling. Hazarding a guess, I bent over the desk, feeling the hard wood press in my tummy as I waited. I felt him move behind me, a thrill of pleasure running through me as he caressed my bottom through my panties.

  "The other way, honey," he told me, chuckling.

  My knees went weak with gratitude. No sooner had I obeyed, he was on me, lavishing me with kisses. He made a trail from my mouth down to my neck before he unbuttoned my crisp white blouse. He groaned at the sight of my breasts, but patiently continued kissing along my collarbone.

  He took a step back and admired me for a moment longer before he pushed the bra up, causing my breasts to spill from the cups. When he took a nipple in his mouth, suckling and nibbling, I had to grab on to the desk to support me as I moaned under his tender care. He went back and forth between them until they were stiff with arousal.

  When his lips kissed my bare stomach, I moaned, sure that he could smell how wet I was. Even if he did, he took his time, working his way down my sensitive bare skin until I thought I might cum with or without his help. When he finally reached my hot spot, he caressed his fingers over my pussy, making me gasp.

  "Are you ready for me, baby?"

  "I was ready hours ago."

  He arched a brow, trying to look stern even as the corners of his mouth twitched. "Stand up."

  I obeyed, only to be rewarded with a loud, hard swat to my panties.

  "For your impertinence, you'll have to wait your turn." With quick, eager fingers he unzipped his fly and his cock sprang forward to meet me, just as eager.

  I dropped to my knees instantly, parting my lips for his large shaft. I took it in my mouth, teasing the head with my tongue before moving my lips up and down. Hearing him groan in satisfaction spurred me on and I went faster and faster, pumping him with my mouth and wishing for the sweetness of his cum. I became single-minded in the task until I felt him tense. That was my sign to suck harder and as I did, his milky seed spilled into my mouth and down my throat.

  "Good girl," he grunted, his eyes closed and his head thrown back. "Such a good girl." His hand tangled in my hair and he stroked my head as he regained his composure.

  I smiled at the praise and stood up, bending over to get my skirt off the floor.

  "Leave it."

  "But—"

  "Leave it, Shelly. I'm not done with you yet. Not by a long shot."

  With firm, powerful hands, he lifted me in his arms and placed me on the desk. No sooner had my butt hit the hard wood, he pushed me until I was lying down, stroking my pussy through my panties that were soaked through. He slid the fabric aside and inserted a finger into my hot sex, making me moan and writhe as he pumped it in and out. When he added another one, teasing my sensitive nub, I thought I would scream from desire and frustration.

  It must have showed on my face, because the next thing I knew, he was sliding my panties down. "Shh. I'm going to take care of you, baby girl."

  To my surprise, when his cock pressed against my thigh he was hard once more. I was already soaked and he wasted no time in plunging into me. He pumped in and out, finding my G-spot with ease. I'd long since learned that Josh wasn't one for quick orgasms—he liked to take him time teasing and tantalizing until I was weak-kneed and weightless. This time was no exception. With each and every thrust, he pushed me higher until I thought I could see stars. When he finally brought me to orgasm, it was mind-blowing. I was laughing and crying all at once and deliriously happy as I came.

  "Josh!" I screamed as my body shuddered with release. "Oh, Josh!"

  When he pulled out, he leaned down to kiss me on the lips. "I love the way you scream my name, baby."

  I smiled, but was too busy catching my breath to answer. I could hear him zipping his fly, though he let me take my time regaining my composure. "That was…amazing," I gasped when I could speak.

  "Yes, it was."

  I let the pleasurable sensation wash over me, a smile on my face as
I enjoyed the aftereffects of our love making.

  "Shelly, get up."

  My eyes fluttered open at the urgency in his voice. "What is it? Is something wrong?"

  "Get dressed," he repeated, his tone firmer.

  I slid off the desk and reached down for my skirt. I saw Josh staring and I let my gaze follow his, letting out a little scream when I saw Janitor Lou in the doorway, staring at us with his mouth agape. If I had to guess, I'd say he'd been standing there for some time. I hurried to pull up my skirt and zip it, turning my back to the door as I put on my bra and buttoned my shirt as quickly as I could. My cheeks felt like they were on fire and I didn't know how I'd ever be able to look Janitor Lou in the eye again.

  "Kids these days," I heard him mutter to himself as he pushed his cleaning cart down the hallway.

  Dinah McLeod

  My name is Dinah. I enjoy a CDD relationship with my husband Jim and freely admit to love all things spanking--reading about it, writing about it, daydreaming about it...you get the idea! As long as I am not in trouble, that is! I hope you will enjoy my books, and feel free to let me know what you think!

  Visit her blog here:

  http://980875189741781282.weebly.com

  Don’t miss these exciting titles by Dinah McLeod and Blushing Books!

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  Love Hurts

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  How I Spank My Wife

  Love Heals

  Educating Marguerite

  By

  Kate Richards

  ©2014 by Blushing Books® and Kate Richards

  All rights reserved.

  No part of the book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  Published by Blushing Books®,

  a subsidiary of

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  is registered in the US Patent and Trademark Office.

  Richards, Kate

  Educating Marguerite

  eBook ISBN: 978-1-62750-522-2

  Cover Design by ABCD Graphics & Design

  This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults. Nothing in this book should be interpreted as Blushing Books' or the author's advocating any non-consensual spanking activity or the spanking of minors.

  Chapter One

  Marguerite Amanda Victoria Stokes shook her hand free of her father's and straightened her dress. The humiliation of being sent to some school at nineteen years old, when she'd completed her education back East, did not lessen as they approached the three story wooden structure. Unlike the civilized mellow brick and mortar of Miss Pomeroy's Finishing School in Boston, the pale pink painted boards and white gingerbread held a temporary feel.

  Her steps faltered, and Father reached for her again, but she shrugged him off and moved more quickly toward the building. Tucked into the desert hillside, the edifice looked dusty and aged, despite the fact that it had been erected within the past few years. Everything about this less than a decade-old state of Nevada already seemed old. The long, dusty summer days settled a film on the buildings and streets that the boisterous crowds of miners, mine owners and women of questionable reputation stirred as they passed, chattering and laughing.

  She'd never dreamed her father would expect her to remain in such a place. In fact, her carefully-written proposal that she finish her education with a tour of the Continent, with a suitable chaperone, of course, had passed his letter demanding her presence at his side. She'd hoped to visit Rome, Greece—places she'd studied and whose ancient languages she'd absorbed at Miss Pomeroy's side.

  A flurry of mail followed, wherein she pointed out that her chances of making a good marriage in the East would be destroyed if she moved to the West. She made sure to drop the name of a certain young man of good family who had shown interest in her, hoping Father would understand the opportunities that might be lost.

  Father replied:

  My Dearest Daughter,

  It is with great anticipation I await your arrival at my side. Your devotion to your dearly departed mother has kept us apart for too long. Finally, you are free to join me at our home in Virginia City, where we shall become reacquainted. I attribute your reluctance to come forth to melancholy at your mother's death, but what better way to mourn our mutual loss than together, under one roof? Your success at Miss Pomeroy's and your companionship while we were apart brought her great joy, and I believe we would have been reunited before long under any circumstances.

  I look forward to showing you the delights of our new state of Nevada and am sure that, in time, we will find the right man to become my son-in-law and your husband. But do not hurry to wed. We have many years to make up for, and I am not desirous to lose the pleasure of your company so soon. Do not seek to deprive your loving father of his share of his only daughter's devotion.

  My man in Boston has the funds for your travel and will contact you regarding arrangements for your journey. I had intended to send my private rail car for your comfort, but with the time taken in these discussions, that is no longer possible. Modern railroad travel is much improved and, as of this year, you will be able to ride all the way to Virginia City. Your comfort should not be compromised.

  Please do nothing to delay your departure. My solicitor, Martin Queries, has already found a buyer for the Boston house who will be taking possession at the first of the month. The new owners are just arrived from England and require furniture and other items. Our home in Virginia City is fully furnished, but if you desire to bring any furnishings or household goods for your future marital home, Martin will arrange for their transport, as well. I am, with sad but hopeful heart, your loving father,

  John Stokes

  And so events were set in motion, without her will, against her desires, and she had no choice but to pack her belongings and vacate the premises. She would stay in the wilds of Nevada only long enough to convince her father to change his mind and provide funding for her to resume her life in Massachusetts. She brought no furnishings, save her mother's beloved grand piano. And, of course, all her silver, china, glassware, crystal, and other small belongings. They were making their own way across the country, hopefully in more comfort than she had. And with less damage.

  If her father had intended to "reunite" with his family shortly, why didn't he just join her in Boston? Had he planned a visit her mother's sudden demise had cancelled?

  At the last moment, her maid, Anna, had refused to accompany her. Another offer, from Marguerite's erstwhile bosom companion, Eloise Van Dyk, had persuaded her to stay. With no time to engage another, she'd had to leave alone. And she had no doubt a lady's maid of skill would be unobtainable in her new surrounds—temporary though they might be.

  Bedraggled, the feathers on her hat drooping against her cheeks, she accepted the conductor's hand down the steep steps of the last of many trains she'd experienced in the three weeks she'd spent crossing the country. The ticket seller had assured her it would take no more than two, but flooding in two places, track problems in others, and an alarming fire, which destroyed the station and damaged the tracks in a small town somewhere in a Plains state, had cost her another eight days of delays.

  Poor food, dust, ashes in her hair, and the aroma of unwashed bodies left her desperate for a modicum of comfort and more homesick than she'd ever dreamed possible. The end of summer in these hills offered yellows, browns, and a bit of dusty green as the only view outside her dirty window. And the
beds…

  She shuddered.

  On the lines where sleeping accommodations even existed, they had been abysmal, and she could not understand the delight expressed by her fellow passengers. West of Kansas City, she would have sold her soul for any kind of a bed.

  With no maid, she had been forced to attempt to dress herself and style her hair—a dismal effort until she had been befriended by a young mail order bride on her way to Carson City. Alice's presence had been the one bright spot in her travels. For several days they had played lady's maid to one another, and her ennui had lifted a bit in her company.

  While together, she'd had the opportunity to share some of what she'd learned, like the constellations hanging over their train when they stopped for water late one night. And the names of some of the plants they rumbled past. And a few handy, naughty words in Latin and Greek.

  She'd hated parting from her new friend who was loyal, cheerful, and kind. Unlike Eloise, who'd thought nothing of absconding with her maid in her moment of most dire need.

  The orphaned Alice, happy to take a chance in the West away from the strict aunt who'd raised her, had made the difference between merely uncomfortable and unbearable.

  "Marguerite, hurry, I have to show you something."

  She looked up from her lap where she'd been attempting yet another sampler. With the long hours to pass on the trip, what else was there to do? But no matter how hard she tried, the colored silk threads knotted and snarled. Shoving her tangled bangs from her face, she lifted her gaze to see the flushed cheeks of her companion, Alice Mary Farrell.

  "What is it, Alice?" As they'd traveled west in the summertime, the humidity of the East had lessened but the increased heat more than made up for it. Every bit of her clothing clung to her and where she'd gripped the linen square, dirty smudges marred its white surface. She tossed it onto the seat next to her. "It doesn't matter. Anything would be better than pricking my finger yet again."