Gina receives a text

You are pleased by the girls' progress this week; if all your students were this well prepared, your job would be a lot easier! Indeed, you are about to open the tutorial up to general discussion when a melodic tone emanates from Gina's bag.

The tall blonde goes white as a sheet. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Professor! I'll put it on do-not-disturb right now."

You sigh in disappointment at her omission, but console yourself with the knowledge that you will at least enjoy disciplining the statuesque beauty.

"Stand up and take off your blouse, Gina," you say, picking up the multi-thong whip that is her fearsome implement. Not quite a cat-o'-nine-tails, nevertheless its seven braided cords promise to inflict quite spectacular agony.

Gina does as you asked, carefully folding her blouse and placing it on the table, before taking a hair grip from her bag and using it to secure her golden locks in a thick coil on top of her head. You appreciate her thoughtfulness in ensuring that you will not be hindered in your task by her hair.

"Touch the ceiling." Thanks to her six inch heels, the fresher is tall enough to press her palms firmly against the bottom of one of the beams that are a feature of the old building in which your office is located. She makes an elegant X, her hands about a yard apart, with her feet separated by a similar distance.

You step behind the miscreant, carefully measure the distance and lash hard across her back, so that the tips of the thongs scourge her flesh from shoulder to opposite hip.

Gina gasps and a shudder runs through her slender frame, but she stands firm.

A second blow adds a further half dozen livid stripes and elicits a groan of anguish. Gina is breathing hard now and when you walk around in front of her, you see that her cheeks are already slick with tears. You touch the handle of the whip to the underside of the blonde's chin and gently tilt her head back, causing her to whimper as she realizes where your next lash will strike.

The cords slash across her bare breasts, tanned the same golden hue as the rest of her skin, one even catching a large pink nipple and raising a swollen weal.

Gina shrieks in agony and sways backwards for a moment, but catches herself and arches her back once more, thrusting her shapely globes forward as if inviting further punishment.

"Quiet, girl! Have some consideration for our neighbours who are trying to work."

"I'm sorry, Professor. May I have the lash repeated so I can try again?"

Her willingness to take responsibility for her failure impresses you, but just as you are about to grant her request, you sense, rather than hear, movement behind you and turn to see Myfanwy reaching into her bag. She freezes, staring at you in apprehension.

"What's going on, Myfanwy?"

The freckled teen starts to cry as the truth tumbles out: "I'm so very, very sorry, Professor. I forgot to put my 'phone on do-not-disturb, as well."

"And you thought you'd do it now, rather than own up to your fault?"

She just nods, now weeping profusely, upset either by her behaviour or by the fact that she was caught.

"Take your top off as well. I'll deal with you later."

To her credit, Gina hasn't moved during the brief interlude and you are able to resume where you left off. The impact of whip on breast makes very little noise, but Gina stoically utters no sound at all, her mouth thrown wide in a silent scream.

You walk back around the suffering fresher as she starts to gasp for breath. Your next lash produces an "Oh!" and her limbs start to shake with the stress of maintaining her position in the face of such intense suffering. The final blow rips a path across her back, now sporting a wide swath of raw, burning flesh, striped with more than two dozen raised welts. Her firm, round boobies are similarly scourged, the nipple you struck obscenely swollen, with a white ribbon of chafing indicating the point of impact. Satisfied with your diabolical work, you order the well-chastened young woman to get dressed and then turn your attention to her tute-partner.

"Interlace your fingers and place your hands palm-up on top of your head. Sit up straight, elbows back, knees and ankles together. If you start squirming or moving around, I will not move on until you manage to regain control of yourself. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Professor," whispers the weeping girl as she adopts the position you have demanded.

You take a moment to admire the fantastic bosom jutting from Myfanwy's freckle-dusted chest, before leaning over her and applying the stiff-bristled oval wooden hairbrush which is her statutory implement, with considerable vigour. The unyielding ebony meets the side of her left breast with a pleasing slap, which sends a jolt through her torso and immediately reddens the sensitive skin. You begin working up and down over her creamy mound, taking care not to hit the same place twice until you have covered the entire tit with stinging swats, but the curvaceous teenager still reacts with increasing animation, gasps turning to whimpers, turning to whines, turning to wracking sobs. Your first circuit takes fifteen smacks and as you go around for the second time, Myfanwy is obviously having difficulty maintaining control.

*WHAP* *WHAP* *WHAP* *WHAP*

The small oval is creating purple bruises with each smack and you notice that the recipient is starting to hunch forward in a vain attempt to protect herself from the worst of the agony. Immediately, you apply the hairbrush to her large coral-pink areola which has thus far avoided your awful attentions.

"Elbows—" *WHAP* "—back—" *WHAP* "—chest—" *WHAP* "—out!" *WHAP*

The strawberry-blonde obeys at once, returning to the position you demanded of her, but as she regains control of her body, she loses control of her voice, letting out a wail that becomes a full-throated scream by the fourth blow. You respond with a flurry of rapid smacks from the rounded tip of the brush upon her stubby little nipple.

"Quiet, girl!"

Myfanwy snaps her mouth shut, cutting off her cry of anguish and sucking ragged breaths in through her teeth.

"Don't clench your teeth," you say, pausing briefly in your onslaught.

"I'm sorry, Professor," she sobs in reply, "It's so hard. I'll do better, I promise."

You resume the spanking, methodically covering her jiggling tit with purple splotches. The impacts are louder on the upper curve which is wet with the tears that have run down her chest, but the blows on the underside cause the greater reaction, her whole body jerking with every slap.

Finally you stand back and survey your handiwork. Myfanwy's left breast is at least a cup size bigger than her right, mottled between plum and aubergine, the areola already black. Looking over at Gina, you see that she is rocking backwards and forwards slowly, in obvious distress. It seems that her whip is the sort that increases in pain for some time after the initial application. Returning to Myfanwy, you advance upon the bawling girl once more, in order to administer the hairbrush to her right boob.

Already exhausted, your student is finding it increasingly difficult to remain still and submit to your chastisement. As you begin the second pass, she is mewling pitifully and starts to squirm in her seat, knees moving up and down, left and right.

"Hold—" *WHAP* "—still" *WHAP*

Myfanwy groans as her right nipple feels the consequences of her momentary loss of control, but her legs stop moving immediately, apart from the uncontrollable trembling which is now affecting her whole body.

*WHAP* *WHAP* *WHAP* *WHAP*

You continue peppering her magnificent boob with bruising swats, intent on making it as swollen and purple as its twin.

*WHAP* *WHAP* *WHAP*

Myfanwy is gasping with agony, her face almost as red as her breasts were, tears still flowing down her cheeks.

"That was the punishment for trying to hide your fault," you say. "Now you will be punished for forgetting to put your smartphone on do-not-disturb. Ten smacks, five on each breast. Count them."

Myfanwy is trying to say something, but you can't make it out through the sobbing. You ask her to repeat herself and she eventually manages to blurt out "Thank-you, Professor. Please may I have the first smack?"

You begin with the left boob again, rotating the brush so that the stiff bristles are outermost and swatting the upper outside of the maroon globe with substantial ****. The unexpected intensity of being struck with the bristles on already raw flesh is just too much. With a howl of torment, Myfanwy doubles over, wrapping her arms round her abused mounds, shoulders shaking with anguish.

"Get back up or I will double your punishment."

Another wail follows, but the chastened teen does as she is told, offering herself for your discipline once again.

"I'll repeat that," you say.

"Yes, Professor, please may I have the first one again?"

*WHAP* The repeat lands squarely on her bruised and aching nipple.

"Oh-oooh-ooo-oooh! Thank-you, Professor!" Myfanwy is shaking like a leaf, but you can't really fault her for that. She must be in terrible pain. "Please may I have the second smack?"

You oblige, this time on the inner curve of her left breast. The third and fourth follow on the lower curves, inside and out, then you swap over to her right boob and give her the same four excruciating blows. For the final two, you have something special in mind and tell your student to take hold of her nipples and pull them up to fully expose the underside of her glorious, throbbing tits.

The blonde fresher forces herself to comply and you complete her chastisement with fervour. Although you have already thoroughly spanked the bottom of her pert boobies, which have no hint of sag despite their prodigious size, drawing them taut by the nipples increases their sensitivity by a not insignificant degree and Myfanwy twists left and right as the bristles scourge her tender curves. You could insist on repeating the swats, but you feel that the hysterical teen has learned her lesson and you will never again have cause to punish her in the same way.

While you wait for Myfanwy to regain some measure of composure, you ponder how you want to be tipped. There isn't much time left in the tutorial and you don't think you have the necessary endurance to be able to take your pleasure from both the lovely ladies together, so you settle on cash. Once the girls have paid up and Myfanwy has painfully and awkwardly donned her blouse once more, you bid them farewell and fill in the computerized record while you wait for the next pair to arrive.