It's Study Time!

Downstairs, Mrs. Thorne’s bare buttocks were a furious, mottled red, criss-crossed with strap welts. And she had been ordered onto her back on the couch, holding her legs wide open, as Mr. Thorne indeed rained strokes down on what was now a puffy red pussy, swollen and sore, as he made his lesson clear.

Upstairs, Sarah tried to ignore the dreadful thwish-CRACK and a renewed, sharper cry following them at even intervals, as Dominic opened the books.

“Okay, Chapter Seven. Oh my god this stuff is boring,” he said, but he wasn’t looking at the book. He was looking at her, his gaze lazy and expectant. He shifted on the bed, and the bulge in his chinos was obvious. “Actually, I can’t concentrate with this. You’ll need to take care of it.”

The command was flat, devoid of heat. It was as if he’d asked her to fetch a pencil. Refusal would be unthinkable at this moment.

Trembling, Sarah knelt on the plush carpet, the sounds from below a distant, terrible orchestra. She fumbled with his zipper. He sighed, a sound of mild impatience, and helped himself.

Her technique was clumsy, born of terrified inexperience. He wasn’t oversized, and she took his already hard cock deep into her throat as best she’d been trained, sucking at it and fondling his heavy balls as best she could. He let her continue for a minute, his hand resting idly on her head, before he pushed her back.

“Boring,” he stated, his voice cool. “Sarah, I thought with that pretty little mouth you’d be an absolute throat goat. Fuck. You’re wasting my time and just putting your ass in serious trouble. Stand up.”

She stood, her legs weak.

“See my maple paddle there? The one with the signatures? Fetch it.”

She took it from its hook. It was heavier than it looked.

“Now, disrobe. Fold your clothes and place them on the chair. I want to see if that pussy is at least worth looking at, and maybe playing with.”

Tears blurred her vision, but she obeyed. Her navy blazer came first, followed by her skirt, then blouse. She hesitated a moment, his eyes raking over her body, clad in an elegant lace-trim brazilian panty and matching bra. Her grunted for her to continue, and she unclasped her bra, her modest bust spilling free, and perky pink nipples stiffening at the sudden exposure. Finally, with practiced intent, she slipped the panties down. She was waxed completely smooth, of course, her school’s hygiene standards did not permit her any body hair below the eyebrows. She recalled a caning her girlfriend Tess had received once for keeping a landing strip as a silent protest and shuddered. The air was cool on her skin. She stood, covering herself with her arms, the paddle held limply in one hand.

“No. Posture. Arms forward. You will hold the paddle out, presenting it to me.”

She **** her arms down, her body a map of goosebumps and shame. She held the paddle out, her arms trembling.

He didn’t take it immediately. He studied her, his earlier amusement gone, replaced by a dispassionate assessment. From below, the strapping had stopped. The house was silent, save for the low hum of the central air.

“You really just need focus, and thats what study group is all about!” he said, finally taking the paddle from her, his still-hard cock bouncing, as he took off his jeans entirely. “You were thinking about your own nervousness, or the sounds from downstairs. You were not focused on the task and its required standard. This,” he tapped the paddle lightly against her thigh, making her flinch, “is a tool for recalibration. It clears the mind. You will count. You will thank me. Afterwards, you will try again, with improved concentration. Do you understand?”

A sob hitched in her throat. She swallowed it. “Yes, Dominic.”

“Assume the position. Over the desk, present that sweet ass for me to punish properly. And remember,” he said, his voice with just a hint of malice and barely concealed delight, “it’s for your own improvement.”

She bent over the cold, polished wood, gripping the far edge, and arched her back as she’d been taught so her bottom stood up at attention. From his position, she knew, her bubblegum pussy lips and soft line of her slit was in perfect view, and she blushed a fire engine red. He tapped the paddle against her bared white ass, then hesitated, taking in the view.