Sentenced to a Punishment Examination

by Carole Archer

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Epilogue

  More Stormy Night Books by Carole Archer

  Carole Archer Links

  Sentenced to a Punishment Examination

  By

  Carole Archer

  Copyright © 2017 by Stormy Night Publications and Carole Archer

  Copyright © 2017 by Stormy Night Publications and Carole Archer

  All rights reserved. No part of this 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 Stormy Night Publications and Design, LLC.

  www.StormyNightPublications.com

  Archer, Carole

  Sentenced to a Punishment Examination

  Cover Design by Korey Mae Johnson

  Images by Period Images and 123RF/skdesign

  This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults.

  Chapter One

  “Go on, Meg, I dare you,” challenged Megan’s best friend, Cindy, as the other six girls in the room chanted, “Do it! Do it! Do it!”

  Megan grinned, her green eyes sparkling. The group had been out on the town, celebrating their recent success in the end-of-term exams. Fuelled by too much alcohol, they had returned to campus, gathering together in Megan and Cindy’s room to play truth or dare.

  Megan had been given a forfeit—to egg their campus doctor’s windows—because she had refused to answer Cindy’s question, “Do you have the hots for Dr. Wilkie?” She had been too embarrassed to acknowledge her crush on the handsome older man, so had opted for a dare.

  “Okay,” Megan agreed. “I’m game. I’ll do it.” The other girls squealed with delight and Louise rushed across to the fridge, returning with an egg in each hand. “Here, you’ll need these,” she said, watching as Megan rolled her hair up into a bun and pulled a cap onto her head. Next she kicked off her red high heels and pulled on her trainers. “He won’t recognise you anyway,” Louise said, handing the eggs over. “There’s thousands of students on this campus, and it’s dark.” Megan nodded, but she wasn’t taking any chances.

  The giggling group stumbled from the room, down the corridor, and out into the cool night air. They headed across the campus to the staff quarters, passing the caretaker’s lodge, then the two blocks of apartments where many of the teachers lived. Finally, they reached the two detached houses at the end, facing each other.

  Megan stopped and looked anxiously toward the one on her left. The campus head, Dean Jones, lived there. He was a strict disciplinarian and would cane the girls if he caught them and probably put them in detention for a month! The lights glowed behind his living room curtains. Megan glanced toward the upper floor to make sure the grumpy old dean was not watching before turning her attention to the house opposite.

  She had been to the doctor’s home once before, for medical attention one weekend, after she had fallen and cut her leg. During college hours, students would visit him at his clinic inside the main building. She had only been there once, for an immunisation that all the girls were required to have, but she felt pretty certain he would not remember her from just those two brief encounters.

  She cast one last glance toward the dean’s home, before looking to her friends, huddled in a group several yards away from her. “Go on,” hissed Joanne, “or are you too chicken?”

  Smirking, Megan shook her head and tiptoed closer to the doctor’s house. Seeing no lights on inside, she drew her arm back and threw the first egg, aiming for the centre of the large living room window. Encouraged by her friends, she prepared to throw the second, when one of the upstairs windows suddenly swung open.

  Glancing up, she panicked when she saw the doctor leaning out. “Don’t you dare throw that,” he warned. “Stay there, young lady. I’m coming down.”

  When the window banged shut, Megan glanced across to her friends. “Run,” shouted Louise. “Come on,” yelled Cindy, “run, before he catches you.” Megan turned, intending to follow their advice. “Chuck it,” shouted Bethanie, “then run.”

  Glancing back at the front door, where the light came on in the hallway, Megan trembled with excitement. Grinning, she squealed with delight as she hurled the second egg. It splattered against the window, just as the front door was yanked open. “You little brat,” the doctor shouted, stepping outside and looking at his window. With hands on hips, he shook his head. “You can clean that mess up right now, young lady, then we’ll go and see what the dean has to say about this. If he doesn’t tan your butt good and proper, I’ll do it myself.”

  Megan’s feet seemed frozen to the spot for a moment, but as he turned away from the soiled window and stepped toward her, she lowered her head. Then Megan did the only thing she could think of—she turned and ran. Her heart was racing as she caught up with her friends, who had hurried away from the house as soon as the angry doctor opened his door.

  “Get back here or I’ll call the police,” he yelled, but the group sprinted back to their accommodation block, without looking back. No one said a word until they were safely inside Megan and Cindy’s room.

  * * *

  After revelling in the glory of carrying out her dare, Megan left her friends to go and meet her mother. She had arranged to spend the weekend with her parents and was very much looking forward to a Saturday morning shopping trip. Cindy accompanied her to the campus gates, where Megan’s mother was waiting.

  “Hi, Mrs. Miller,” Cindy said, leaning into the car.

  “Hi, Cindy, how are you?”

  “I’m fine, but while Megan’s at home being spoiled, my poor fellow students and I are going to be stuck in our rooms, with no money and no alcohol,” she said, sticking out her lower lip.

  “Don’t you get an allowance?” Megan’s mother asked, smiling.

  “Yeah, but it’s all gone.” Cindy sighed and threw her hands in the air, glancing enviously at the box of wine on the back seat of the car.

  “Go on, take it,” Mrs. Miller told the chubby, blonde-haired girl. Needing no further invitation, Cindy pulled the back door open. “All of it?” she asked hopefully, looking at the box containing six bottles of wine.

  “Yes, now scram. We’ll have to make a stop on the way home and get your dad some more,” she said to Megan, who climbed into the car beside her.

  “Thanks, Mrs. Miller. Have a great weekend.”

  “Bye, Cindy,” she said, laughing as the girl leaned against the car, balancing the box on her hip. Slamming the door, she waved and then was gone.

  “Sorry, Mum,” Megan said, rolling her eyes. “She’s terrible. She’ll scrounge from anyone.”

  Mrs. Miller smiled as she reached across and hugged her daughter. “No worries. I was a student myself, you know. A couple of my friends once knocked on the dean’s door to ask for help with a flat tyre. We knew he was having all the staff around for a party that night, so while he was fixing the car, a few of us slipped into his cottage and pinched several bottles of wine. He had so much, he wouldn’t have even realised.”

  “Mum, you’re terrible!” Megan said, laughing at her mother, whose eyes sparkled with mischief.

  “I know, but don’t tell your dad,” she said, grinning.

 
“Deal,” Megan replied, giggling as they set off home.

  She was tempted to share the details of her own prank with her mother, but decided against it. It was one thing her mother sharing her own misdeeds from thirty years earlier, before she had even met her father, but this was an entirely different matter. Her mother might tell her to own up to her wrongdoing, or worse still, inform her father.

  Feeling a little drunk, Megan rested her head against the car window, listening to the relaxation CD her mother always played when driving. The tinkling piano notes washed away her worries, and when they stopped outside the supermarket, Megan stayed in the car.

  Taking out her phone, she called Cindy. “Hey, no one’s been around to our room, have they?”

  “If you mean Dr. Wilkie or Dean Jones, the answer’s no. Chill out, Meg, no one’s coming to get you. Enjoy the weekend. I know we’re going to. By the way, the gang say to thank your mum for the wine.”

  Megan grinned as loud roars of approval came from the other girls. At this rate, she thought, they’d have none left for the weekend; it would all be gone by the end of the night. Oh, well, that wasn’t her worry, she thought, bidding her friend goodnight and putting her phone away, just as her mother returned to the car.

  “Who was that?” Mrs. Miller asked, as she loaded the box of wine into the back seat.

  “Oh, it was just Cindy, ringing to say thanks for the wine.”

  “She already said thank you.”

  “Yeah, but the others told her to ring and say thanks on their behalf, too,” Megan said.

  “Oh, that’s nice of them,” she replied, getting back into the driver’s seat. “Such a nice group of friends you have. Your father and I were concerned you might fall in with the wrong crowd, but I see we had nothing to worry about,” she added, patting her daughter’s hand, before starting the car and driving away. Megan chewed her lower lip anxiously.

  Minutes later, they pulled up outside her parents’ detached house. “Let’s get you inside before you catch a chill,” her mother said, opening the door and ushering her inside.

  “Hello, princess,” her father greeted her, enveloping her in a hug. “Congratulations on your exams. I knew you’d pass with flying colours.”

  “Thanks, Daddy.”

  “Your wine’s in the back of the car,” his wife said. “Shall I fetch it in?”

  “No, I’ll get it. Go into the kitchen,” he told them. “Our dinner’s just been delivered.”

  Megan just wanted to go to bed. She was tired, although it was just turned nine o’clock, and she felt a little dizzy from the alcohol. But she didn’t want to offend her parents, who had gone to the trouble of arranging a meal from her favourite takeaway. So she sat with them and enjoyed an Indian banquet at the kitchen table, sipping on the small glass of wine her father had given her. She smiled as she looked at the large glasses her parents were drinking from. They were like goldfish bowls in comparison, but she didn’t mind that her father still saw her as his little girl. It was quite sweet actually. And she had probably had more than enough alcohol anyway.

  “Daddy, I know it’s quite early, and I really do appreciate what you’ve done for me, but I’ve had a busy week. I’d really just like to go to bed and catch up on my sleep, if you don’t mind,” she said.

  Standing up, he ruffled her hair. “Okay, princess, you go and get your beauty sleep—not that you need any,” he added, grinning widely.

  Megan dragged herself up the stairs, washed her face and brushed her teeth, before going into her bedroom. Too tired to undress herself, she lay on the bed and curled up into a ball. Closing her eyes, she thought she heard a phone ringing. When she sat up abruptly, she realised she was mistaken. Smiling, she laid back down. She was clearly a little more worse for wear than she thought, and had started hearing things.

  A few minutes later, her door opened and footsteps moved across her room. Her eyes fluttered open and her mother looked down at her. “Goodnight,” she said, leaning forward and brushing her daughter’s hair out of her eyes. Picking up a blanket, she threw it over her. “Goodnight, Mum,” she replied, snuggling under the blanket. “I love you.” Kissing her cheek, her mother whispered, “I love you too.”

  Lying in the darkness, she waited for her father to pop in. For as long as she could remember, her parents had always kissed her goodnight. Her eyelids grew heavier. When she heard her door open again, she struggled to open her eyes. Her father’s lips pressed against her forehead. “Me and you need to have a chat, young lady,” he said, sighing as he stepped back. “Mmm,” she replied, pulling her blanket tighter around her. “It’s late now; your mother said it’ll keep until morning. I guess it will.” His tone was abrupt, but Megan didn’t notice as she slipped into a peaceful slumber, her earlier worries now a fading memory.

  Chapter Two

  “Time to get up, young lady,” Megan’s father said, shaking her roughly. “Come on, we need to be leaving soon,” he added, when she tried to pull the covers over her head.

  “What time is it?” she asked, scowling as she rubbed her eyes. She felt as if she’d barely slept.

  “It’s eight-thirty.”

  “Oh, Daddy, it’s too early. It’s the weekend. There’s no rush…”

  “Are you arguing with me?” he said, cutting her protest short. Megan shook her head, as her father maintained his grip on her arm. “I’m sorry, Daddy. I thought we’d be sleeping late, like we usually do.”

  “Yes, well, I don’t generally need to go into court on a Saturday, but today I do. You’re coming with me, so get out of bed and get dressed now.”

  “But Daddy…”

  “Megan Teresa Miller!” Her father’s voice boomed and his dark brown eyes flashed with anger, his brows arching above them. Megan sat up and swung her legs out of bed, taking heed of his warning.

  “I’m sorry, Daddy, I’m getting up.”

  “Good choice. You were perilously close to starting the day with a trip to my study,” he said, finally releasing his hold on her upper arm. “Now get ready, and be quick about it.”

  Megan shuddered. A trip to her father’s study was not good. Walking to the bathroom, still in yesterday’s clothes, she unconsciously cupped her buttocks. Dr. Wilkie’s threat to tan her backside suddenly popped into her mind. Oh, no, I hope Daddy hasn’t somehow found out, she thought. Shaking her head, she allowed herself a small smile. There was no way that had happened. Her father had simply been called into court for urgent business, as was sometimes the case. He was obviously going to drop her and her mother off in town on his way to court, before joining them later.

  A little calmer, but feeling quite fragile, she brushed her teeth. Stripping off her clothes, she wondered if she had time for a shower. That might liven her up a bit. Not daring to risk angering her father for taking too long, she made do with a quick wash at the sink.

  Wrapping a towel around her body, she dashed into her bedroom and grabbed some underwear, jeans, and a jumper. She dressed quickly, pulling on her trainers before hurrying downstairs, where her father was waiting in the hallway. He looked at his watch, then pointed toward the kitchen.

  Trembling slightly, concerned she was in trouble, she headed through the doorway. “Sit down and eat,” he told her, indicating the bowl of fruit and yogurt on the table.

  “I’m not really hungry, Daddy,” she said, trying a smile. “I’m a bit hungover, to be honest.”

  His eyebrows rose once more and Megan rushed to the breakfast bar, dropping her butt onto the stool and picking up the spoon.

  “You have a long day ahead of you,” he said, going to the cupboard and taking out a couple of soluble tablets. Dropping them into a glass, he added water and swirled it around. Megan watched him as she spooned a couple of orange segments into her mouth.

  When the tablets were dissolved, he put the glass in front of her, pressing the flat of his hand against her forehead. “Thank you, Daddy,” she said, smiling and picking up the glass. She noticed he did not
smile back. “I’m okay, Daddy, it’s just a hangover.” Taking his hand away, he moved across the kitchen and picked up his coffee. Her nose pinched between thumb and index finger, she swilled back the awful-tasting hangover cure. Sitting down opposite her, Megan’s father sipped from his mug, watching her over the rim, his brow furrowed.

  “Is Mum almost ready?” she asked, trying to lighten the mood.

  “She’s gone out,” he said abruptly.

  “Oh, is she not going shopping with me while you go to work?” she asked cheerily.

  He stared at her for a moment, irritation in his expression. “No.”

  “Oh, am I going shopping on my own or meeting Mum…” Megan stopped mid-sentence, as her father pushed back from the table and stood up. Leaning over her, his hands pressed against the table, he stared into her wide green eyes.

  “Megan Teresa Miller,” he said, eerily calm. Megan gulped, aware that was the second time in half an hour he had used her full name. Generally that preceded a serious telling-off, or worse still, a spanking. “Are you going to eat your breakfast, or do I need to put some heat in your bottom?”

  “No, Daddy,” she whispered, her cheeks flushed. Picking up her spoon, Megan shoved some grapefruit into her mouth and lowered her gaze. She continued to eat her breakfast, her heart racing as he loomed over her.

  When she was finished, Megan glanced up at him. “Put your bowl in the sink, get your coat, and meet me in the car,” he ordered, turning on his heel and leaving the house, slamming the door behind him. Swallowing nervously, Megan followed his instructions, putting on her coat, scarf, and hat. It had been a really cold winter, and if she was going shopping she needed to wrap up well. Locking the front door, she headed toward the car, where her father sat bolt upright, staring straight ahead, his gloved hands tightly gripping the steering wheel.