Corrective Measures

by Sarah Veitch

  Not that he felt he could ever fuck anyone again at the moment. Spanking a woman hard and talking her down before fucking her was much more demanding than a squeeze-one-breast-then-the-other traditional screw.

  Richard flicked down the switch that operated all three of the lounge lights as he walked into the room. Only the subdued standard lamp came on. It illuminated his wife's bared bent-over bottom. She was lying across the coffee table with her black jeans and scarlet panties at her feet. 'I was bad,' she whispered. 'I brought myself off after watching your film, so I deserve to be punished.' She looked at his large palms, then indicated the table tennis bat and wooden spoon lying at her feet.

  'That mannequin, Richard, the way you stroked its bum. I got so hot...'

  Just his luck. 'If you've already come we can take a rain check,' Richard muttered. His balls started to rise further up his body at the threat of further action. Each cell had been sated, longed for sleep.

  'Master, no,' Maris had that look in her eye that said take me, take me, take me. 'It's your duty to whip and stroke and fuck your humble slave!'

  'I could just lick your clit for a moment...' Dazed, he showed her his tongue.

  'Rich, I'm so horny, I need you inside me.'

  'Just a quick one then, dear?' Richard half-sobbed.

  'No, my Lord - let's make it an all night session,' Maris whispered, getting up and pushing him into a chair, then lying obsequiously over his lap, her buttocks twitching. 'I know the staying power you have once you get going. Let's see if I can make you come three times.'

  Rump Stake

  At last the Parent-Teacher Evening was drawing to an end. Sherilee Patterson waved farewell to yet another trio of doting mums then she started to walk towards one of the dads whom she hadn't yet spoken to. He was tall and well-muscled, dressed in a black denim jacket, red T-shirt and jeans. Black leather gloves completed the ensemble, and he held a motor bike crash helmet beneath his stout right arm.

  'I'm Sherilee Patterson, Class 5A's teacher. And you are...?' Sherilee started.

  'You don't need to know that,' the dark-eyed stranger replied.

  'A mystery man, huh?' Sherilee joked. It had been a month since she'd ditched her last lover, and her pelvis was aching with unmet need.

  'You've heard of a contract killing?' asked the man, glancing suggestively at her skirt-clad hips. 'Well I'm here to deliver a contract spanking. I've to redden your bare backside for the next two hours.'

  He'd to redden her bare backside. For a moment Sherilee forgot how to breathe, and all the oxygen seemed to rush from the spacious classroom. Dazedly she glanced at the three remaining adults in the corner. Had any of them heard what the man just said? A pulse started up in her crotch, then her nipples tingled. She felt a sense of personal shame.

  'You can't just... do that,' the twenty-eight year old got out. 'It's ridiculous.'

  The biker flexed one gloved palm then slapped it tellingly against the other. 'Ridiculous or not, I've been paid to carry out the contract,' he said.

  Sherilee turned towards the door, half expecting to see one of her fellow teachers peeking laughingly round it. She'd been cock-teasing Mike from Maths and she'd recently two-timed the Deputy Sports Master, Bryan, so both had reason to pretend she needed a punished bum.

  'Alright, the joke's over. Who set me up?' she murmured, forcing her lips to curve upwards.

  The biker stared down at her impassively. 'Darling, I sure as hell ain't Jeremy Beadle. And I don't think you'll be grinning once I start to warm your arse.'

  Again the air deserted the room. This time it was replaced by a blush which spread from Sherilee's feather-cut blonde fringe to her blouse-held mammaries. When the flush subsided, she drew herself up to her full five foot three.

  'Right, I've had enough. You're being sexist. You're being rude. You're being...' Her vocabulary failed her for a moment then she went on to make her next point. 'And if you don't leave now I'll call the other parents over, and one of them will fetch the headmaster,' she said.

  'The man who paid me mentioned that you might threaten that. He said that if you didn't go over my knee like a good girl that I was to show the headmaster some school's-out-for-summer photos,' the motor cyclist replied.

  Sherilee felt her lips slacken with shock as his words hit her. 'You're... you're bluffing. I don't believe you. You wouldn't dare.'

  In answer, the biker brought out a little black square wallet. From it he took six Polaroids. He held out photo after photo at arms length. The teacher stared at them for a frozen second then she glanced wildly around to make sure no one else had seen the tell tale snaps.

  In the first picture Sherilee was wearing her school cloak, which was open down the front. Her bare tits and shaven pubes were completely visible. The background was the huge mahogany-panelled classroom they were now standing in. The second snap showed her sitting naked on her teaching chair, her legs as far apart as nature would stretch them. She was holding a stick of chalk suggestively next to her pinkly glistening quim.

  The man seemed to know that her poor bum was in his power. 'You'll take your thrashing then, love? At the end of it, you get to tear the photos up.'

  'I don't have much bloody option,' Sherilee said. To her chagrin her vulva tingled with anticipation, and her lower belly felt the familiar spread of lust.

  The spanker waited till all of the parents had gone away before he closed the classroom door. He walked to the big teacher's chair and pulled it out to the front of the class, then sat down on it firmly. He looked over at Sherilee and expectantly patted his lap.

  'Make me,' she whispered, knowing that she couldn't go voluntarily over his knee like some spineless slave girl.

  'My boss said you'd need some taming,' the biker said. He stood up. Sherilee pretended to flee. She had to give the bastard a run for his money. This hired hand would be reporting back to one of her ex-boyfriends. She wanted her ex to know that she'd put up a bit of a fight.

  The motor cyclist caught up with her as she reached the bookcases near the door. Sherilee felt two large hands span her waist. The feeling was sex-pulsingly pleasant. Then she felt herself being turned, picked up and put over his shoulder in a fireman's lift.

  'You're a fuckin' gorilla!' she squealed, drumming her feet against his back in a gesture designed for effect rather than to cause anguish.

  'Gorilla's have powerful arms,' said the man. 'Just right for doling out a hard spanking to a naughty girl.'

  'I'm all woman!' Sherilee shot back snappishly.

  'You're all cockteaser - that's what I've been told,' the biker said.

  He put her feet on the ground, but kept his arms around her waist, holding her firmly. Then he manoeuvred her to one side of the chair, sat down and pulled her over his sturdy knees.

  'Alright, so I haven't treated some of my boyfriends well, but I've been emotionally hurt before,' Sherilee rationalised.

  'And now one of these boyfriends gets his own back when I spank your naughty bottom,' the stranger said.

  Sherilee sucked in her breath and stared down at the floorboards. She wasn't conquering this debate so she had to search for another tactic that might win him over. Now that her punishment was imminent, she felt slightly afraid. She had to appeal to his sense of humour or lust or honour. The longer he was talking, the less time he had left to spank...

  'Do I get to know who ordered the contract?' she gasped, as the biker hoisted her higher upon his lap, increasing her helplessness.

  'Not at the moment you don't,' the man demurred in an insultingly blase voice. Sherilee sensed that he was gazing down at her haunches, still encased in their close black linen skirt. 'Darlin', this'll have to come off before I can tan your backside for you,' he continued, his fingers brushing her legs at the site of the skirt hem. Sherilee whimpered with desire and degradation as he edged the linen up.

  'As we're getting so intimate, don't I get to know your name?' she murmured, twisting her head back with difficulty to look up at h
is impassive dark eyed features.

  'We're not getting intimate, Missus. I'm about to turn your flesh crimson because someone paid me to,' the biker said. Sherilee cringed at his words. New lust surged through her loins as she felt him fold her skirt hem over her back, then unclip and unroll her stockings. 'But if you want to call me something you can refer to me as Master,' he said.

  'Refer to you as wanker, you mean!' Sherilee retorted, determined not to be made easily sub. His sure fingers edged under the waistband of her panties and she didn't feel half as brave as she'd been acting. 'Couldn't I just keep my pants on for modesty?' she said.

  'Don't start playing the demi-virgin,' her self-styled Master scoffed. He started to pull down her champagne silk pants and Sherilee knew he'd show no mercy. 'I've seen the photos, remember? Half of the male teachers at this school have seen your arse!'

  But they hadn't spanked it, Sherilee thought, and she felt a queer deep thrill run through her. None of them had dared to stand up to her until now. Still, she couldn't show this go-between that the man who had paid him had won, had earned her curiosity and even a grudging respect.

  'This ex of mine must be a real coward, sending a second along,' she said, forcing a sneer into her voice.

  'Oh, he may put in an appearance to see you squirming over my lap yet,' the biker said. At the thought of an additional audience Sherilee pushed her shamed thighs together hard. 'Oh angel, this little pink button is the key to Open Sesame,' the man continued, fondling her swelling clit so that she moved her trembling legs apart.

  He pulled her pants off and threw them over his shoulder to the ground.

  'Don't you want to keep them as a souvenir?' Sherilee asked provocatively, trying to keep his attention from her newly-bared bottom.

  'No, I just want to make these naughty nates beg for mercy,' the dispassionate tyrant said.

  He started to spank her then, softly at first, but with an ever increasing harshness. It felt as if he had been practicing each whack for days. He roasted the centres of each globe. He warmed the sides. His palm licked her tender thigh backs. The heat built as he slapped her helpless naked orbs from pink to red.

  'Is that the best you can do?' Sherilee jeered, trying to appear unfazed by the growing torment.

  'No, my palm never tires,' the man said. 'I've hardly started livening these small globes yet.'

  The schoolteacher yelped as an especially well-angled spank warmed her bum's deep crevice, the heat radiating through each centimetre of blushing buttock flesh.

  'How many?' she muttered, flexing her floor-based toes and fingers as the anguish continued. 'How many hard spanks do I have to take?'

  She suspected from the movement the biker made that he was looking at his watch. 'I've been paid for two hours work. We wasted twenty minutes getting rid of the PTA crowd, which means I've got an hour and forty minutes to toast this backside and make it beg.'

  'But you can't spank me for that length of time,' Sherilee said. She'd been curious about how his palm would feel. Now she knew that it hurt like blazes. If she could slide down upon his cock, this contractual punishment would quickly end.

  'Can't spank you for a hundred minutes? Well I may stop and start for some question and answer sessions,' the seductive stranger replied, adding a few more spanks to her already sensitive areas. Then he fingered her hot sore rump until she quivered with pleasure and pain.

  'You could just enter me,' she whispered, 'and thrust as hard as you wanted. I'd tighten my muscles so sweetly on your throbbing cock.'

  'It's not part of my contract,' said the man. Sherilee tried to lift her head up in order to read his face, but the effort proved too much for her. Was he serious? Was he really turning down the offer of no-strings sex?

  'But we mustn't let this naughty bum cool down,' the man continued. To her chagrin, he started to spank her again with renewed vigour, each smack re-awakening her bottom's previous fire.

  'Ah, ow, oh!' Sherilee gasped.

  The man continued to spank her bum. He grew ever more articulate. 'I'm going to enjoy giving out the longest spanking that I've ever administered,' he said. Glad you've found job satisfaction, Sherilee thought. But she daren't say it. If she was rude he'd doubtless tan her arse even more. 'Your bum's wriggling so prettily now,' continued the man. Sherilee knew that her clit was similarly twitching. But she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing part of her was turned on.

  'I notice you squirm extra hard when I spank the crease where arse meets thigh,' the biker continued. He smacked that tender area again, and Sherilee drummed her suede-shod feet against the classroom floor. 'Not that I'm going to neglect the other bits,' her spanker warned, turning his gloved palm's attentions in the direction of her upper buttocks. He smacked the glowing flesh in the centre till she writhed and groaned.

  'Bet my ex boyfriend didn't say you could make me cry,' she muttered at last.

  'He said,' the biker murmured, punctuating each second word with an additional spank, 'that I should tan your arse till it was the colour of my T-shirt.'

  Sherilee knew that that particular garment had been the brightest red. 'And did he say,' she gasped on, brain trying hard to focus on anything other than her stinging arse, 'how you'd know when I was truly repentant, when I'd had enough?'

  'He just said,' her tormentor answered, warming her helpless furrow four times in quick succession, 'that you were good at dishing out the hurt and the ignominy, and that this thrashing was your just desserts.'

  'Used such cliches, did he?' Sherilee muttered sarcastically, then added 'Ouch, ah, sorry!' as her bare bum trembled under the force of another two punitive whacks.

  'I'm going to make these red cheeks very sorry,' the biker said. He was as good as his word. He knew how to make a girl's bare cheeks sing for their supper. Sherilee endured twenty or thirty more spanks, then submission rushed through.

  'I apologise for all the wrongs I've done,' she whispered, wriggling upon his knee. 'I won't treat my boyfriends badly again. I'll be a better person, Master. No more, I beg.'

  To her relief, the biker stayed his hand. For a few moments he squeezed her scorched rear cheeks, whilst she squirmed with hot need and humiliation. Then she felt his fingers moving to her waist. It was a moment before the teacher realised that he was helping her to leave his lap, that her ordeal was presumably over. Flush-facedly she scrabbled backwards, then squatted at his feet. She looked over at her knickers then realised that her bum was too sore to be encased it them. Knowing that her close-fitting skirt would also pain her, she left it rucked up above her waist. As long as she stayed hunkered down like this facing him, her tormentor couldn't see her bare bottom - or spank it hard.

  'Now all I've got to do is prove to your boyfriend that I carried out my orders,' the dark haired stranger said quietly.

  Sherilee felt her body still into watchfulness. 'What do you mean, exactly?'

  'Well, he'll be parked nearby by now with his mobile phone - so either I bring him in to see your bottom or I take a Polaroid he can view at home.'

  'But if you take a Polaroid,' Sherilee said slowly, 'that means there'll be another X-rated photo of me available for the world to see.'

  'Exactly, complete strangers might view snapshots of your hot bum and your pained expression. That's why I suggest that you go for the seeing-is-believing option,' the impassive spanker said.

  The teacher hesitated. 'At least this way I'll get to know who ordered my thrashing,' she murmured curiously.

  To her disappointment, the biker shook his head. 'No, you don't,' he explained. 'My client's anonymity is vital. You have to wear this.'

  As he spoke, he drew a long black scarf from his inside jacket pocket. Sherilee let it run through her curious fingers. It was an opaque linen or cotton blend. Obediently she bent her head to let the biker tie it over her eyes and knot it behind her. At least it signalled that her punishment was almost at an end. Her ex-boyfriend would view her squirming haunches then she'd get to go home where she
'd rush to her bedroom and... her mind pictured her recently-acquired vibrator and her wet loins throbbed.

  It was strange having her eyes covered with the thick dark cloth. Sherilee became more and more aware of her own tiny movements. Her mind also focused further on her relentlessly well-disciplined little bum. Was the biker still staring at her naked thighs and groin? Should she try to tempt him into bringing her to climax? And what on earth would she say when her ex-boyfriend arrived?

  The twenty-eight year old shivered with uncertainty and desire. She'd always been a bit of an exhibitionist. It was just that she'd never exhibited her chastened rear before. She listened intently to the biker's low voice on the phone. It said, 'There's a tenderised arse here for you to view, mate.' Sherilee blushed hugely and licked her lips.

  She listened as the biker set his mobile down. 'Your ex will be here in five minutes,' he explained. 'We'd better display these sore cheeks to their full advantage for him.'

  'You mean...?' Sherilee nervously shifted her position and a trickle of desire made its slow warm way down her leg.

  Then she felt the biker's hands on her wrists. 'I'm going to help you to stand, then pick you up,' he clarified before doing just that. 'Then I'll carry you over to one of the front desks and lay you across it. Just let your head and feet hang down either side like you did when you were across my lap.'

  'And if I don't?' Sherilee muttered, ashamed at the prospect of being this flagrantly displayed in front of two people.

  'If you don't I'll take some very colourful photos,' the dark-haired stranger said.

  The twenty-eight year old sparred with him verbally for a few minutes then decided to obey his commands. After all, in a moment of weakness she'd already called him Master. She shivered as she was lifted then lowered and shamefully displayed over a scratchy wooden desk.

  'Is this what you want, Master?' she added gutturally, scissoring her thighs apart to show the back entrance to her vulva.

  'No, I just want to see your well-warmed bottom, and know that you've felt contrition,' a second male voice said.