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.

Gradually my breathing returned to normal and my sobbing subsided, the sore stinging sensation in my bum eased to be replaced with a pleasant numb feeling. I began to almost feel bored if that was at all possible and was contemplating moving or rubbing my bottom or something to provoke him in to further action. Then I heard the front door handle turn and the door creek open, “Stan, has that silly bitch turned up then”. It was  a woman’s voice and despite the incredible urge to run for my dress I remained still as a statue.

Mr Finch shouted “In here Jean, she is just spending some time in the corner where she belongs”. I could hear her enter the room, “Good lord”, she exclaimed, and amid torrents of laughter from them both she continued. “Oh Stan I can see you have been enjoying yourself while I have been out”. Her voice sounded vaguely familiar and I was trying to place it when he asked where my manners were and would I turn round and say hello to his wife.

I had no idea he was even married and I turned round to be greeted by the sight of the woman who worked on the checkout in the village shop. I had exchanged a few words with her every time I went there and was well aware she knew who I was. She was stood with her hands on her hips still in her “Tesco” uniform looking me up and down with the biggest smile on her face I had ever seen.

I spluttered my knickers out of my mouth, “Hello Mrs Finch”, I could hardly speak, my mouth was dry and I was on the verge of breaking down in tears this time with the humiliation not the pain I was suffering. She bent over and picked my knickers up placing them on top of my bra, “So have been enjoying your self prancing up and down in front of my husband showing everything you have got” she sneered. With out waiting for a reply she looked over at him and asked if I had given him any money to “sort me out” as she put it.

He laughed and pointed to the table, she walked over and picked the money up and counted it before looking back at me. “Oh this is hilarious” she laughed, “You gave him £100 to slap your arse”. Again they both bellowed with laughter “She knows how valuable my time is” he chortled. “You hardly get twice that amount for a full weeks work Stan” she exclaimed. “You must have more money than sense you stuck up little bitch” she said angrily.

“You complained to the manager a few weeks ago because I gave you 50p short in your change” she said, “And now look at you, bold as brass with your little baby tits and your dirty ginger muff on show and paying all that money for the privilege”. She continued to look me up and down “You’re a disgrace to women you pathetic little slut” she hissed.

She left the room announcing she was putting the kettle on and I turned to Mr Finch and asked would he mind if I could please have a cup of coffee. He nodded and shouted through to her, “Make the tart a coffee please will you Jean” he laughed. He then told me to go through to the kitchen and on the coat rack was a wide leather belt that he thought would be fun to use on my red rump.

I was relieved to put my hands down as they were starting to get a little cramp and I walked in to the kitchen. She turned to look at me and I explained I had been sent to fetch a belt. She pointed over to the wall and sniggered “Good, I can see your going to be a very sore young lady before you go home” she remarked. I held the belt in my hands and was shocked to feel how heavy it was, it was dark brown leather about 3 inches wide and looked like it was ancient.

He smiled as I handed him the belt and he caressed it almost lovingly as I stood hands at my sides in the middle of the room. Mrs Finch returned with a cup of coffee for me “Normally I would offer a guest a seat but I don’t want a filthy tart like you making a mark on my furniture” she muttered. He laughed at her comment but told her he would keep me occupied while I had my coffee.

After taking a few sips from the hot cup he told me turn round with my bottom facing him. He dangled the belt downwards with the buckle at the bottom and placed it on edge between my bum cheeks. He told me he expected me to clench my cheeks tight in order to hold the belt and to keep it there as long as I could. Mrs Finch sat opposite me in the chair and looked with such contempt at me. At first it was not too bad to hold the belt steady and I kept taking quick sips of my coffee.

“So has it been worth £100 Charlotte” she asked obviously highly amused. I had no hesitation in admitting that it was and I further caused her to gasp with surprise and indignation as I turned to look over to her. “I would be very grateful if I could pay your husband every week to treat me like the naughty little tart I am Mrs Finch”. She almost spilled her tea she laughed so much “My god Stan you have found yourself a full time job with this dirty cow”. In my absurd position the more she insulted me the more I wanted her to.

I don’t know if my mind was clouded with the heat in my bottom and if I am honest between my legs but the idea of paying for my torment was such a huge turn on. With out thinking of the financial implications I opened my big mouth again. “I think I would benefit from this sort of treatment as often as you can spare the time Sir”. He looked pleasantly surprised, “I think it is fair I  pay you a £100 each time you have to take the trouble to show me my place Sir”.

I regretted the words as soon as I said it and realised that surely he would have done this to me for free if I hadn’t been so eager. I took the last drink of coffee and the ache in my bottom cheeks became unbearable and let the belt fall to the floor. I let out a low moan of relief and jogged up and down on the spot to get the circulation back to my bum. She walked towards me and took the cup from my hand and without any warning she slapped me hard across the face. She took hold of my left nipple and squeezed as hard as she could between her bony wrinkled fingers.

“Charlotte Watkins how dare you come in to my home and offer my husband money to flaunt your dirty little charms at him”. she yelled. I screamed in agony afraid she would tear my poor nipple right off. I begged and pleaded for her to let go and I didn’t mean to offend her and I was so sorry. She let go as quickly as she had grabbed it and just laughed. “Oh relax my dear I am just giving you what you obviously need” she laughed.

My head was spinning not only with the pain in my nipple but the sting to the side of my face where she had slapped me. Before I came to my senses Mr Finch had stood up and delivered a hard smack to my bottom.

He warned me that he would not tolerate my surly behaviour any more and what had I been told about being polite and respectful at all times. With another loud “SMACK”, he told me to thank his wife. I was sobbing as I looked at her “Th, Th, Thank you Mrs Finch for slapping my face”. she gave me a very sweet grin which was quite surreal. “And what about your sore nipple did you enjoy that” she mocked me. “Yes Mrs Finch” I lied but I knew it would amuse them both to hear me say it.

I was ushered round to the back of  a chair and my upper body pushed over it, “Come on Miss Watkins push that naughty fat bottom as high as you can” said Mr Finch. I reached up on tip-toe in an effort to get my bum as high as I could. He pressed his foot between my ankles and roughly pushed my legs apart until he was satisfied. He then went and sat down leaving me confused as to what was happening.

He asked his wife if she had a good day at work and basically they both ignored me for about 5 minutes having a mundane conversation. He then turned to look at me “Oh by the way as soon as you want the belt just ask politely” He grinned. I saw him then look at the clock “I should be quick though, my mate Harry is calling at 10 and we’re going for a pint” he laughed. She joined in “I bet the dirty cow would love to show him what she’s got”.

“Please Sir, can I have the belt on my bare bottom” I asked. They decided that I hadn’t asked  properly and told me to try again. “Please, please Sir I have been such a naughty girl and deserve a good hard thrashing across my bare arse”, I was begging by now. “What about your ginger-minge” he laughed “does that deserve a smack or two”. I gasped out loud which made them both laugh. “Yes Sir, my ginger-minge needs to be smacked as well as my bare fat arse”, I hated saying such a phrase and for a brief second I wondered what those horrid girls would think of me now if they were here to see me.

He was still unwilling to admit I had grovelled as much as I could but his wife told him not to be so mean and go and give me a good hard leathering. She smiled as I thanked her and he walked up behind me to take up his position. “CRACK”, a searing band of pain spread over my cheeks. “CRACK”, another before I had even chance to catch my breath. “CRACK”, I let out a long screech ended by another loud “CRACK”, which brought several short gasps and yelps. “CRACK”, my knuckles tightened and I pounded my fists in to the seat of the chair.

For the second time this evening I was soon bawling like a toddler as another “Crack”, brought  an intolerable sting to my bare spread bum cheeks. He laid the cool leather of the belt over the middle of my back and gently massaged my sore and tender bottom. “This brings back memories”, he said and I listened in shock as between my tears and my loud sobs he told me how he had thrashed his daughter “Louise” until she was 18 with the very same belt as I was getting. His wife interrupted and said how at least she had the decency to take it like a young lady not some stupid school girl crying and snivelling all over the place.

He spread my cheeks as far apart as he could and then with one hand cupped my pubic mound from behind. He gently patted it several times and then asked if I was ready for one last stroke of the belt right here. I was too busy crying and thinking how much it was going to hurt to speak too much but just let out a pathetic “Yes please”. He took hold of my legs and lifted me off my feet until my thighs were on the very top of the back of the chair. He pushed them wide apart and then grabbed my hands and placed them on my bruised and swollen arse cheeks. “Spread them nice and wide Miss Watkins and push your dirty red haired cunt out for the belt”.

I heard Mrs Finch laugh and with a mocking tone in her voice she said, “Take a nice deep breath Charlotte your going to need it to squeal like a little piggy”. With no time to consider anything a loud muffled “CRACK”, brought such a scream from me I thought I would be heard for miles. A searing pain flashed along the length of my gaping sex and amid all the pain the thought that he had delivered the belt with such accuracy amazed me.

I was panting for breath as much I did when I went on a ten mile run and didn’t care how much I was showing myself up I cried and cried. I could hear Mr Finch say that he hadn’t had a “Hard on” like this for years and then as casual as you like he asked his wife if she would mind if he used on “This little tart”, meaning me.

She laughed “Of course not Stan, although you ought to charge her extra for cock” I was speechless as I heard the sound of him pulling his zip down and before I could move he placed his penis up against my slit and pushed it roughly as deep as he could in one thrust. I could feel his fat stomach pressing down on my burning bum and thought how revolting this was to be fucked like some common tart. He was thrusting quickly and his breathing was louder than mine and his whole body wreaked with sweat, for the first time since I arrived I didn’t enjoy what was happening. To be honest I could hardly blame him for wanting to use me like this after how I had behaved and the things I had said but then a sudden panic ran through me.

“Please, please Sir, you can’t cum inside me I am not on the pill or anything”,  I realised he hadn’t put a condom on and was terrified he would make me pregnant. His wife laughed “Come on Stan we don’t need another baby let her get a nice creamy mouthful”. With that comment she walked up and took hold of my hair and lifted my head up “Be a good girl and don’t you dare spill a drop on my furniture” she hissed. I tried to shake my head and struggle free but she held me firm. With two last hard thrusts he withdrew himself from me and with his cock in his hand he walked up to my face.

I tried as much as I could to turn my head but again she showed no mercy and slapped me hard on the side of face. “Suck it you stupid bitch or I’ll take the belt to your tits” she let me know in no doubt she would do it and I had no choice. I starred at his hard cock as he moved closer to me, it wasn’t very long but quite thick. He pulled his foreskin down a couple of times showing me his dark purple head and then slowly entered my mouth.

I could smell his stale odour which was disgusting and didn’t dare think about his general hygiene. I could hear him begin to grunt and sensed his cock twitch a little and in a desperate attempt not to taste his cum I pushed my head down hard on his shaft to get it as deep down my throat as I could. The hot liquid hit the back of my throat hard and pumped several times making me gag and choke. He pulled out his cock to let me breath but as he did so my mouth instantly filled with his spunk still in my throat. I hadn’t managed to swallow anything and with my mouth wide open for a brief second I contemplated spitting it out. “Shut your mouth you filthy little whore” hissed his wife at me.  I knew it was no use and swallowed every last drop taking a few gulps to get it all down. He had one last indignity in store for me as he held his cock out “Lick it nice and clean Miss Watkins like a good little girl” he mocked.

I was broken of all resistance now and lapped up and down his sticky length not knowing how I had stopped myself from being sick I curled up on the floor and cried. He left the room and his wife switched on the television and completely ignored me. I heard him return in the room but I kept my eyes closed tight not wanting to look at him. “I think I’ll take £20 of my hard earned money to the pub” he laughed.

“Harry is here now” he exclaimed and with that he was gone leaving me on the floor naked with a blazing backside and a stomach full of his spunk. Slowly my sobbing eased and I began to rub my bottom, I heard Mrs Finch get up and go to a cupboard. “Come over here Charlotte dear, let me put some nice cold cream on your sore bum”, she sounded compassionate and kind. I went over and trying not to look at her I lay myself over her lap. She soothed my hot cheeks with her gentle hands and the wonderfully cold cream.

She comforted me like you would a small child and spoke softly but firmly telling me that she knew it was a sordid thing I had to do but I had brought it all on myself. I began to accept what she was saying and the cool massaging of my bum was making me highly turned on. “Yes Mrs Finch it served me right to have his cock in my mouth”, I confessed. She continued until I had thanked her for letting him fuck me and I promised I would sort myself out with some contraceptives so he could have me “bareback” when ever he wanted. I was shocked at my own words but deep down I knew I wanted it to happen and the fact that the choice was taken away from me made it all the more exciting.

I was in a half sort of daydream when she turned me round so I was face up on her lap. Her hand reached down between my legs and before I really knew what she was doing she was rubbing my wet lips. “There, there Charlotte, be a good little girl for Auntie Jean and show me how you cum”. In all my thoughts and fantasies I had never imagined laying on the knee of another woman letting her masturbate me. Her fingers knew exactly what to do and before long I was screaming again in front of her this time in ecstasy.

She helped me get dressed and even washed my face, I say get dressed but I didn’t want to put my knickers over my sore bottom and my nipple was also sore so I didn’t bother with my bra. She let me take my pony-tail out and brush my hair and she suggested I go to the pub to meet Stan and say how sorry I was for throwing a tantrum just because I had to suck his cock.

I looked at her smile and knew she understood me more than I understood myself. It would be so deliciously shaming to have to go and say that to him but I couldn’t wait to get there. I leaned over and kissed her on the cheek and blushing I whispered “Thank you Auntie Jean”.

The pub was not too far away and the cool breeze soon had me aware of how bare I was under my thin summer dress. Walking in to a pub was not something I was used to doing on my own. I had been here a few times with a few of the other teachers, I took a deep breath and walked inside. Thankfully it wasn’t too busy and I asked for a glass of white wine and lemonade at the bar.

I saw Mr finch sitting with another man and they both had there backs to me. I felt one or two people looking at me as I walked over to them. I almost stopped dead in my tracks when I overheard part of the conversation, “I’m telling you Harry, she will do anything”. I knew instantly he was talking about me and could feel myself begin to blush, “Excuse me Mr Finch can I join you” I interrupted them.

“Talk about the devil” laughed his friend making me blush even more as my fears were realised. “Yes of course you can Miss Watkins, but be a good girl and get us another 2 pints first”, he made no attempt to keep his voice down and I prayed no one had heard him refer to me as a “Good girl”. I placed my drink on the table and asked what it was they were drinking, they both replied “Best bitter” and I returned to the bar to buy it for them.

A young girl served me and laughed that it makes a change for a pretty girl to buy two old men a drink. I was quite flattered that she had described me as a “pretty girl” and had to smile to myself at what on earth would she think if she knew the situation. I put the beer on the table and took a seat opposite them both. “Here you go Mr Finch and may I call you Harry” I asked trying to sound as demure and polite as I could.

“Well, well Miss Watkins have you forgotten how to address me already”, said Mr Finch his stern voice. Harry gave a stifled laugh as I looked down “I am sorry …. Sir”. I fidgeted on my chair and Harry asked me in a sarcastic voice if I wanted a cushion. I was left in no doubt I had been their topic of conversation. Mr Finch seemed delighted with my presence as he had proof now that what he had been telling his friend was obviously true.

He complemented me on my hair now it was straight and said that it showed my colour much better, he then went on to laugh that it was not as ginger as the hair between my legs. While his friend laughed Mr Finch told me to undo another button on the front of my dress as I looked hot and flustered. With both of them waiting patiently  I took a large gulp of my drink and did as I was told. “Oh Stan this is marvellous”, exclaimed his friend. “Why stop at one button” he laughed. I had no choice but to undo another as I was instructed and looked down to see my dress was wide open to well below the level of the underneath of my breast. It was apparent I was not wearing a bra and had to tell them both that I was without my knickers as well.

I then took my opportunity to tell Mr Finch why I was here before I had to expose any more of myself. “I am sorry Sir for having a tantrum when I had to suck your cock and swallow your spunk”, I could not lift my face as I said it. “Good girl Miss Watkins” he laughed again not bothering to keep his voice down. “Good grief Stan you lucky bastard” said his friend in disbelief.

“Watch this then Harry” smiled Mr Finch “lets have some fun with our randy young bitch”. He leaned over and whispered in his ear, Harry smiled and looked at me. “Mr Finch says you like to show off your ginger hair on your cunt is that true” he asked. I was in total bewilderment that they were having this conversation with me in such a public place yet I wanted to prove to them how much of a slut I could be.

I replied that yes I did like to show myself off and asked if he would like to go outside in the car park or something so he could see. “No its private enough right hear young lady, just slip your dress up and give us a nice long look at you bare cunt” grinned Mr Finch.  I looked around in alarm and realised that in the position I was in several people could see my face but no one else could see my body.

I held the hem of my dress and sat a little more on the edge of my seat, slowly I lifted it up until it was above my hold-ups with my bare thighs on view. “Nice stockings” smiled Harry then added “Bitch” as if he was unsure he could call me that but my reply of “Thank you Sir” soon put him at ease and he knew he was in charge. Someone then stood up and walked past and although he made no reaction he must have seen me. They both laughed loudly saying my face was a picture and why didn’t I even bother to cover myself up. I told them I had not been given permission to put my dress down and I wanted to show how sorry I was for being naughty. Mr Finch again smiled and Harry took a long drink of his beer before exclaiming “this must be a dream I have never seen anything like it”.  

The man who had walked past returned to his seat and before any of them could say anything I lifted my bum off my chair so I could pull my dress up from under it in order to lift it clear of my bush. I was amazed with myself at what I was doing, sitting here with my bare vagina on full view on the orders of  man I had only just met. They both stared between my legs and Mr Finch again reminded me to be a very polite and respectful young lady.

I looked at Harry, “Thank you Sir for letting me show you my bare ginger cunt”. He smiled and added, “Well get those legs nice and wide you dirty bitch so I can have a proper look”. With  quick look round the room and no one seeming to be any the wiser at what was happening I eased my knees apart. “How would you like to get your cock in that then Harry”, laughed Mr Finch. He nodded enthusiastically and said he would like to slip it in my pretty mouth as well.

I was in such a state of arousal mixed with fear and anticipation I wanted to humiliate myself even further. “Yes Sir I would be very grateful to have your cock in my mouth”, the words sounded so loud and clear I was sure people must have heard me. Both of the men laughed and took a leisurely drink of their beer still enjoying my complete exposure and obedience.

“Get to the bar then bitch and get us another drink”, instructed Harry, I stood up letting my dress fall and regain some modesty. As I walked I realised that my buttons were still undone, my breasts were swaying from side to side with each step, only just contained in my dress. I ordered two pints and got myself a large vodka and I could see the young girl starring at my wide open dress. “Have you lost a button, do you want me to find you a safety pin” she asked. I could feel myself blushing like mad but tried to stay calm and just replied that I was feeling a little warm and as I took the drinks I heard her say in a bemused voice “Oh I see”

I noticed a few people were staring at me now and I tried not to look at anyone. Back at the table I leaned over to place the drinks down and Harry motioned for me to sit next to him. “So you like being told what to do” he asked and of course I answered “Yes Sir”. “Get your tits out then” he laughed, I pulled my dress away at the side and sat with both my breasts on show. He reached over and began to greedily squeeze and maul my bare boobs.

My nipples were throbbing and so hard as he pinched and rolled them between his fingers. He stopped and unzipped his trousers and reached over to grab my hand and push it down on to his crotch. I fumbled in his underwear and took out his semi hard cock. “That’s a good girl, give it nice wank”, he sat back as I rubbed my hand up and down feeling it get harder and harder by the second.

“What do you say to Harry Miss Watkins” interrupted Mr Finch. Still pumping his cock I looked up at him, “Thank you Sir for letting me play with your hard cock”. He leaned over to me and with a firm hand and pulled my head towards him. I realised he was going to kiss me and in spite of my panic I felt my mouth respond to his. I knew that most of the people in the pub could now see what I was doing, well at least they could see me snogging a man well over twice my age.

He kissed me hard and pushed his tongue deep inside my mouth filing me with the taste of beer and stale cigarettes. At last he stopped and I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand before drinking my vodka in one go. He pushed his cock back in to his trousers and took hold of my hand as he stood up. “Come on little bitch, time I fucked you isn’t it”, the whole pub must have heard what he said.

He held my hand tight and with my other hand trying to straighten out my dress over my breasts he literally dragged me out of the pub. I was sure everyone must have seen my tits could only pray that none of them knew I was a teacher at the local school. Once outside he led me to a dark corner of the car park and roughly pushed me over the bonnet of a car. He lifted my dress high above my back and then he held me down firmly as he thrust inside me. He was grunting and moaning as his thighs slapped against the backs of my legs. “You like this you dirty fucking bitch don’t you”, he spat at me. The next thing I knew a hand grabbed my hair and turned my head towards the sight of a man with his cock waving in front of my face.

I could see it wasn’t Mr Finch and shuddered in shame at the thought that this was the third cock in one day. I lapped and sucked at it as the man moved my head with my hair as a sort of handle. After a few minutes that seemed to last forever he filled my mouth with his creamy seed. He wiped the tip of his cock up and down my cheeks a few times leaving trails of his spunk across my face and without saying a word he walked away.

Harry meanwhile was still humping me for all he was worth and then his body became ridged and I felt his spunk shoot deep in my womb. I was unable to resist as he moved round to my face “lick it clean you stupid little tart”, he laughed. I got to my feet and smoothed the front of my dress down as he zipped himself back up. I was fastening the buttons at the top of my dress when he walked up close to me. “I have always wanted to do this” he grinned and with that he took hold of my dress and ripped it right off my body. He was laughing as he walked away with my dress in his hand and I could only stand still in shock at the thought I was naked apart from my stockings and shoes with spunk dripping from my face and fanny.