The teaching of Charlotte Watkins

I had been a teacher at Norwood junior school for 2 years and still thought to myself how lucky I was to have found such an ideal school. Norwood itself was a medium sized village, almost a town in fact yet quite isolated and mainly comprising middle class folk  who were polite and friendly.

This was my first teaching post since leaving university and many of my friends who I was with there were so jealous that I had landed such an enviable position. All though the only drawback was that I rarely got to see them and beneath my rather curt and aloof exterior I was a shy person and found it hard to make new friends.

At work I always found myself  volunteering for anything that was on offer and was in truth quite grateful to spend as much time as possible at the school. I rented a nice cottage not too far away but didn’t really enjoy being on my own too much.

Over the last few months however I had discovered a new hobby, if hobby is the right word. It all  began when I took my laptop in for repair and there was a mix up and I was given someone else’s by mistake. When I switched it on the screen saver appeared and it was a picture of a young woman bare below the waist standing up against the wall with a scarlet bottom.

My eyes were transfixed on the image and at first I thought the repair shop had put this on as some kind of joke. I clicked on my documents only to find a long list of what I later found to be stories all involving the discipline and control of young and occasionally not so young women.

In spite of my initial shock I found the subject evoking a curious interest within me. It was several hours later and after reading about six long stories I went to bed. I had great difficulty in sleeping and my mind was filled with constant flash backs to events within the stories. Of course in my thoughts the young lady on the receiving end of countless spankings and such like was me. 

The next day I placed a memory stick in the laptop and downloaded all the files so I could read them at my leisure.  I thought it best not to say anything about the material and the gentleman at the shop was very apologetic about the mix-up and gave me my own laptop. Once again my evening was taken up reading more lurid tales on the subject of corporal punishment. Soon I came to the conclusion that I had  very distinct submissive side to my personality that up to now I had never been aware of.

Over the following weeks and months I began to visit sites on the internet and specially chat rooms where I would while away my evening chatting to all kinds of people who shared my new found interest. Most of the men seemed intent on pestering me to meet them and at first I had no such intention to take it any further but I had to confess the idea of visiting a stranger with the intention of having my bottom smacked gave me such a delightful torrent of pleasurable emotions.

I made a decision that in order to control what was now becoming almost an obsession I ought to act out some of my fantasies and began selecting several candidates for which to consider meeting in real life. I was determined not to rush in to anything without really making sure it was what I wanted but I had convinced myself I needed to experience the sting of a well delivered spanking.

My shortlist was down to three gentlemen all of which lived around 2 hours drive away and all appeared to be genuine and very much on the same wavelength as myself. I began to save my chats I had with them online and then go through them later to try and see any contradictions or inconsistencies with there accounts of experiences and preferences.

I was feeling very excited as well as incredibly nervous as I knew I had a firm favourite out of the three but as always seems to be the case fate or the hand of god or whatever you like to call it intervened.

It was almost the end of term and  I was sat at my desk in my classroom waiting for the last of the children to meander their  way out at the end of day.  I had reluctantly agreed to supervise  a year 6 girls hockey match and the visiting team wouldn’t be  arriving for another hour and a half. I placed my laptop on my desk and thought I might see if  “SternSteven” was online, he was the front runner and I felt so naughty doing this in my classroom.

I had just logged in to the chat room when I heard shouting and screaming form the last of the kids by the school gates and then the sound of the fire alarm. I rushed outside to see smoke coming from the boiler room and the caretaker shouting to make sure everyone was moved well out of the way and he had called the fire brigade.

The police arrived quickly and moved us all even further away and then as the alarm began to subside I realised I had left my laptop on my desk still switched on and logged in to a chat room on the topic of spanking.  In a blind  panic I almost wished the whole school would burn down and save my chance of someone discovering my dark secret.

By now the police had put blue and white tape across the gates and despite the fire having gone nowhere near my classroom they refused to let me back inside. I had no option but to go home and prayed that after some time my laptop would have switched itself off and no one would have any idea what I was doing.

That evening the headmaster telephoned me and told me the school would be open as normal and the fire was quite small and done little damage and thankfully no one was hurt. I woke early the next day and arrived about an hour before I usually did, the gates were locked and I stood nervously waiting for the caretaker to come and open them.

He was what you would call  a typical grumpy old man, he never seemed happy at his work and found the slightest thing to moan and complain about. There was something about him that made me uneasy around him and he had that look on his face which said he was undressing me with his eyes every time he spoke to me.

“Good Morning Miss Watkins” he smiled as he walked slowly towards me, he was slightly over weight and walking slowly  with his customary  lecherous gaze. “You’re here bright and early” he paused unlocking the gate. “You look a little tense Miss Watkins, I hope yesterdays commotion didn’t upset you”. he asked. The last thing on my mind was having a conversation with him and after a few brief words I rushed to my classroom to see in horror my desk was empty.

I turned to see him standing with a cigarette in his mouth, “lost something have you my dear”, I knew in an instant from the look on his face he must have found out what I had been doing. I could feel myself blush a deep red as I told him I had left my computer on my desk and without looking at him I muttered it had some important work on it and did he know where it was.

He leaned against the edge of the door with a leering smile on his face “Oh yes I saw you had left your laptop” he took a long puff on his cigarette. “I hope you don’t mind but I couldn’t help but notice you were, errrr shall we say in the middle of something”

My whole body felt like and explosion had erupted within me and I could feel tears welling up in my eyes.

His expression was that of almost pure elation as I looked over at him. After a brief silence with seemed to last forever during which  he finished smoking he cleared his throat and looked at me. “So we are quite a naughty little girl beneath our prim and proper exterior aren’t we Miss Watkins”, he waited patiently for a reply. I felt so trapped he may as well have been pointing a gun at me. The words “naughty little girl” ran through my mind again and again. I had been caught red handed with my hands in the cookie jar and far from imagining going to see some stranger for discipline I could sense that I might get what I was looking for a lot closer to home.

“You smug bastard”, I hissed at him. “Tut tut Miss Watkins I can see why you would need your bottom smacking with sort of language”. He carried on his mocking tormenting of me and left with the ultimatum that I would agree to him becoming my disciplinarian or my laptop would find its way on the headmaster desk. With notice that he would expect my answer by the end of the day he casually walked away.

To say my mind was in complete turmoil was an understatement and however I got through the rest of the day was a miracle. As much as I loathed him both as a person and as my “blackmailer” something deep within my mind began to see the attraction and an almost thrill at having to be obedient to him.

The more I considered my options the more I made my mind up  By the end of the day I was bordering on eagerness to tell him to promise not to say anything to anyone and I would let him give me my much needed discipline.

The bell went at the end of the day and I sat behind my desk fully expecting him to walk through the door. I waited for about ten minutes with no sign of him and actually felt disappointed. As I walked through the corridor on my way out I saw him with his mop bucket outside the boys toilets. He could obviously hear my footsteps as they echoed around the small space but he continued without acknowledging me.

I stopped in front of him and taking a deep breath I spoke, “Mr Finch I would be very grateful to take up your kind offer”. I sounded contrite and tried my best to hide my undercurrent of delightful excitement which accompanied my embarrassment. He replied how glad I was that I had seen sense and informed me that he expected me to visit his house on the edge of the school grounds at 8pm prompt this evening.

I then starred open mouthed at him as he continued to say that he was not doing this out of kindness and firmly believed that is should be kept on a strictly professional basis. I think he must have sensed that I did not understand what he meant, “Miss Watkins I expect you to pay me for my services”, he said. “After all I am  busy man and I have got better things to do with my time then taking your knickers down and smacking your bare bottom”.

His arrogance and his blatant contempt was almost overwhelming yet the thought of me actually having to give him money gave me yet another delicious thrill within me. I blushed and hesitated “Yes Mr Finch it is only fair I pay you for your valuable time”

He laughed and walked away reminding me not to be late.

The short walk home was filled with thoughts of what I had let myself in for and with of all people the grubby old caretaker. I was too nervous to eat when I got home and spent twice as long as normal in the shower all the time thinking in few hours Mr Flinch would be only the third man to see me in a state of nudity in my adult life. At twenty five I had been single since leaving university almost 3 years ago and before that I had only had 2 serious boyfriends.

I was in my dressing gown drying my hair thinking what on earth I ought to wear for my shameful visit. I was so looking forward to having to stand in front of him and admitting how I wanted to be treated and tried to imagine what sort of outfit he would like to see me in. Like all men I presumed he would want me to look sexy but then given the sort of absurdity of the situation I was unsure.

I decided on a plain lemon coloured summer dress which buttoned down the front and underneath a white satin bra with a lace trim and matching white knickers. I looked down at my bare legs and the found out some white hold-up stockings which I had almost forgot I even had. At  5’2’’ I was always conscious of my height  and usually wore around 2’’ heels to work but picked out a nice pair of black patent shoes with a 4’’ heel. My hair is straight and a sort of a reddish blonde colour ,which I hate when someone says is ginger and I thought it best to tie it back in a short pony-tail. I put a little make-up on and chose a subtle pink lipstick and with a look in the mirror realised there was no turning back now.

I picked up my handbag and then thought about having to give him some money so I checked my purse. I had 3 £20 notes as well as some change, I then began to think what sort of amount did he expect me to give him. The last thing I wanted was for him to ask for more than I had so I set off early to call at the cash machine and withdrew another £100.

I walked slowly to avoid arriving too early and a few minutes before 8pm I knocked on his door. I heard noises and the door swung open, he stood looking me up and down and invited me in. The house was clean and tidy which surprised me and he led me through to the lounge and asked me to take a seat. I placed my handbag on the floor at the side of the chair and pressed my knees together with my hands on my lap.

He walked over and poured himself a large whiskey and returned to sit opposite me on the sofa.

He told me he had read all of my saved chats as well as a couple of the stories I had saved and thought he had a pretty good idea what I was looking for. I found myself thanking him which made him smile as he went on to say how coincidently he did have a strong interest in the discipline of young women.

“Well Miss Watkins, come here and stand in front of me we haven’t got all night have we”. He sat up straight as I approached, “hands on your head young lady” he said in a stern voice. I complied and stood gazing at the wall behind him not able to meet his gaze. He got to his feet and with his glass in his hand he walked round me several times. “That’s a very pretty dress Miss Watkins, it would be such a pity to crease it so don’t you think we should take it off” he asked. I was too nervous to reply but managed to meekly nod my head in acceptance.

He was behind me then “SMACK” across my bottom, “when I ask you a question young lady I expect a full and polite answer” he shouted. “Oh I am sorry Mr Finch yes I agree it would be better if I took my dress off” I replied. “Good girl” he answered me and told me to fold it over the chair. The feelings I had as I unbuttoned the dress were indescribable, this was exactly what I had wanted and up to now he was talking charge of the situation magnificently.

I lay the dress over the chair and returned to stand with my hands clasped firmly on the top of my head. He lit a cigarette and continued to walk round me “I bet you don’t feel like a smart educated young woman now do you Miss Watkins”, “No Mr Finch I feel like a naughty little girl” I replied adding to my embarrassment. He put his cigarette between his lips and with both hands he reached out and took a firm hold of each of my breasts.

I closed my eyes and gasped out loud resisting the temptation to move my hands and back away from him. “Not too much up top have you Miss” he sneered and with a final jiggle he removed his hands. He looked at me and then I knew he was waiting for an answer. “No Mr Finch I don’t have a very large bust”. He nodded his head in agreement and ran his finger under my bra strap and up over my shoulder.

“I cant imagine why a little girl like you really needs a bra can you”, he looked right into my eyes, grinning with his uneven tobacco stained  teeth on show. Again he paused, obviously waiting for me to reply. “Yes, yes Mr Finch I don’t think naughty little girls should need a bra”, I responded.

He moved behind me and I felt his fingers on the fastener of my bra, he was having a little difficulty but soon it was undone. “Hands down young lady”, he instructed and he slid my bra straps over my shoulders and pulled it off my body. I replaced my hands on my head which brought a “Good girl” in response. I was now standing topless in front of a man not only old enough to be my Dad but probably old enough to be my Grandfather.

I could see out of the corner of my eye he lay my bra on top of my dress and returned to stand in front of me. He told me he was very pleased with my behaviour so far and how much he was looking forward to putting me through my paces. He then said it was a little formal to keep calling him “Mr Finch” and perhaps it would be better if I addressed him as “Sir”.

Of course I had no hesitation in agreeing with him and replied with a loud and clear “Yes Sir”. I could see him gazing at my chest and I thought to myself how he couldn’t believe his luck this was happening. How on earth would a man like him get to see a 25 year old young woman not only topless but having the ability to order her around to his hearts content.

“lovely little titties Miss Watkins” he smiled as he sat down. My nipples were poking slightly upwards and as hard as they had ever been in my whole life. “Would you like to give them a little jiggle my dear”. I was more than eager to sway my body side to side and feel my breasts move around freely. He lit another cigarette and watched me perform my dance in front of his grinning face. I could not imagine  a sight so absurd as with my hands still on top of me head I was shaking my little tits up and down and side to side so willingly.

He found my performance very amusing and was in no rush to get me to stop. It was like all my pent up frustrations and my outwardly respectable image had totally disappeared. I was behaving like a shameless little tart and loving every second of it, I was breathing heavily with the physical exertion of my lewd routine. At one point I lifted myself up to my tip-toes and using all the strength of my calf muscles made little jumping movements. This made my tits bounce up and down quickly and I looked down to see my nipples become almost a blur with the speed of how fast I was moving them.

“So Miss Watkins something tells me you like shaking your little titties for me”, he laughed. As I had become more immerged in my submissive persona I had to acknowledge my enjoyment. “Yes Sir I love having to shake my tits for you” I could only answer with such honesty.

He told me to stop and relax for a few minutes and I was grateful to get my breath back and I think my breasts too were glad to be still, apart from the fall and rise of my ribcage as I breathed. He leaned over to his ashtray and stubbed out his cigarette and with the same movement slipped his finger into the waistband at the top of my knickers. “Come and stand closer then little girl” he said as he gentle pulled me closer towards him.

He opened his knees a little and I walked between them and he closed them sort of gripping me with them. He was sat on the edge of the sofa and with a flick he let go of my knickers making the elastic snap against my skin. “I think its time we took our naughty teachers fancy knickers down” he mused. The use of the word “teacher”  brought quick flash of reality to me and the contrast between this and my so called real life was unimaginable.

The verbal element was very important to me and it was something I had talked about to people on the chat site. Mr Finch had obviously picked up on this and was playing his role to perfection. “Would you please pull my knickers down Sir”. I couldn’t comprehend a few months ago having to say such a phrase but those words had run around my mind endlessly for the last few weeks.

With slow deliberate intent he placed a hand on each of my hips, his face a matter of inches away from my waist. Taking his time he moved his hands down and took hold of my knickers sliding them down until they were in a bunch at the tops of my hold-up stockings. He leaned back slightly to admire the view “What  a lovely ginger bush you have Miss Watkins” he exclaimed.

“Oh its really strawberry blonde ….  Sir” I contradicted him. “Yes , yes of course it is” he laughed. He pinched a few hairs at the top of my mound between his fingers and tugged gently. “So our haughty little Miss Watkins doesn’t like the word ginger does she”, he asked. I was in no position to lie to him and admitted that I hated the word. He proved to be very perceptive and asked me if I was teased at school for having a ginger bush. I went on to tell him that yes a group of girls did give me the nic-name “Ginger-Minge”, which he thought was very funny.

“I was half expecting to see you shaved down here” he stated “don’t all you submissive sluts like a bald twat” he said crudely. His words cut through me like a knife and his language heightened my sense of exposure. It felt like not only was my body on display to him but he could see deep within me to see who he thought the real me was.

I explained to him that I had considered removing my pubes but I thought it was not up to me to make that decision. He looked quizzically at me and I carried on to say that I felt that my body now belonged to him and it was up to him how I should look and even how I should dress. He was absolutely delighted with my statement and announced that indeed I was right and he would have many ideas to keep me in my place and remind me just who was in charge.

After running his hands through my pubic hair for a while he opened his knees to release his grip and sat back. “Well Miss Watkins I think its time we discussed payment for my services” he announced. Oh as if the this wasn’t shaming enough to be exposed and treat like some juvenile child I had now had to give him money. I told him I had been to the bank and got some cash which made him smile.

“Why don’t you go over to your hand bag then Miss Watkins and give me what you think I deserve”, he ordered. As I walked over I could feel his eyes on my bottom as it moved from side to side with each step, my knickers staying crumpled up at the tops of my thighs. “Don’t forget how valuable my time is young lady” he said mockingly.

I bent over and took my purse out of my bag, realising for a brief moment just what a view I would be giving him as I kept my legs straight and my bare bottom up in the air. For the first time I felt anger mixed in my cauldron of emotions at having to give him money for doing something he was obviously talking so much pleasure from. As I opened my purse and looked at the folded £20 notes the anger was dissolved with a new wave of humiliation. Here I was practically naked in front of a lecherous old man who was basically my subordinate at work about to pay him smack my bottom.

I returned to stand in front of him and pulled out a bundle of notes from my purse, I held my hand out and offered him the cash. “Here you are Sir”, I could barely speak. He reached out and took the money from me.

He slowly and deliberately counted it and then I realised I had given him the wrong amount I had meant give him the £60 I already had but there he was counting 5 brand new crisp £20 notes I had got from the cash machine. He looked very smug and self satisfied, “Thank you very much Miss Watkins, I am very pleased to see that you appreciate me giving up my time for you” he smiled.

He placed the money on a table by his side and moved to the middle of the sofa, he patted his lap “Come on the lets tan your backside then” he laughed loudly. I moved to his right hand side and leaned my upper body over his knees. He took hold of my waist and pulled me further towards him, he then practically lifted my legs so they were stretched out on the sofa and my head was buried in a cushion at the side of him.

My right hand was folded behind my back and he grasped it tightly with he left hand. I was held firmly in position and for the first time began to concentrate my mind on the actual pain element of my desire. His large rough hand began to stroke and rub my bottom, alternating between gentle rubs and sharp little smacks.

I closed my eyes and thought of all the stories I had read and all the chats I had but now this was real, I was having my bare bottom smacked! He took his time and gradually the slaps became much harder and spaced further apart. I could feel my cheeks begin to sting and distinct heat building up. The rhythm was broken by a quick flurry of spanks about 20 to one bum cheek then 20 to the other. Then it was back to slow steady hard smacks which echoed round the room only this time they were accompanied by little yelps and gasps from me.

“What’s the matter Miss Watkins, don’t tell me a few smacks to your bare arse hurts does it” he mocked me. I remained silent and he spanked me much, much harder “What I have told you young lady about being polite” with that  he gave  me two really hard smacks. “Sorry Sir, yes , yes my bum stings” I gasped. “I am glad” he replied. “I don’t want you to think I haven’t earned my money” he laughed.

Oh the sarcastic bastard I thought, the spanking paused for a moment so he could pull my knickers further down. “I think we need to put some colour on the tops of your legs young lady” he added. Fearful of being smacked harder for not answering I could just mutter a quick “Thank you Sir”, before a torrent of fresh slaps brought new pain to my thighs.

The spanking continued with him changing from my bum to my thighs several times and making some smacks really cause me to howl in pain. The heat and sting was getting unbearable and I wriggled and kicked my legs as well as beginning to cry between squeals and shrieks. With a final salvo he let go of my hand and sat back. In an instant I reached down to rub my stinging cheeks as hard as I could, the heat was incredible and I felt so ashamed that I was actually crying from just a simple hand spanking.

He let me rub my bum for a minute or two before dragging my knickers down to my ankles and carefully pulling them over my shoes. He ushered me up from his lap and I found myself on my knees facing him. He lifted my chin up with his hand to look at me. Both my hands were still rubbing my sore bum cheeks, “Surely you don’t think a £100 is just going to get you a few little smacks over my knee do you” he grinned. I shook my head and blabbed like a baby, “Na, na Noo Sir”,  I sobbed.

He still had my knickers in his hand and brought them up in front of my face, “Open wide Miss Watkins” he laughed. I let my mouth fall open and he roughly pushed the material of my underwear inside my mouth. The majority of my knickers were hanging from my mouth as he held my arm and lifted me to my feet. He turned me to face a large wall mirror, “Now I wonder what your Mum and Dad would think to see you like that” he gave a loud raucous laugh. The image of my red tearstained face with my make-up smudged and my crumpled knickers hanging from my mouth was such a ridiculous sight.

He let me gaze for a few seconds at my pathetic reflection then marched me over to the corner of the room. He warned me not to move an inch and man handled my arms on to the top of my head. With a cruel squeeze of my bum he walked off to pour himself another drink and I heard the flick of his lighter as he lit yet another cigarette.