Being teacher’s pet is one thing. Being a teacher who has a pet is quite another.
‘Pets’ can be the most ungrateful little wretches imaginable, and ingratitude from a girl who has been treated to as much special attention as Sandra had was certain to arouse a degree of vengefulness in someone as sensitive as Miss Walker. Not that she was feeling particularly hurt — she felt more ‘miffed’ than anything, because she knew that the silly girl was just being thoughtless. But even that was enough. Miss Walker’s hurt pride demanded that Sandra’s stupidity should be brought to her attention in a reasonably forceful way. And as Miss Walker mused upon the possibilities it occurred to her that it might as well be fun too.
As a result, when Sandra reported to Miss Walker’s room after school one Thursday afternoon, things did not go quite as she expected.
‘Come in!’ said Miss Walker’s unusually brusque voice, even before Sandra had knocked at the door, Miss Walker having heard the girl pounding up the stairs which led to the classroom, late as always.
Sandra came in, breathing heavily, having just run up two whole flights of stairs. Her blazer was unbuttoned and her tie was lop-sided while her satchel, which she insisted on using although at seventeen she was a bit too old for it now, was dangling from her shoulder, heavily laden and bulging open.
‘Whatever do you suppose you look like girl?’ chided Miss Walker, quite distressed to see her favourite pupil looking so scruffy. ‘You look an absolute mess!’
Sandra tugged at herself here and there, trying half-heartedly to make herself a little more presentable.
‘Sorry Miss,’ she said, ‘I was in a hurry.’
She had an irritatingly pompous way of saying things sometimes. Sandra realised that her teacher was in rather a bad mood.
‘Well I was in a bit of a rush because I’m going out —’
‘Really? Well, I’m afraid you’re going to be a little late my girl.’
Sandra groaned audibly.
Miss Walker looked up sharply from behind her desk.
‘And if I have any more of your insolence you’ll regret it my girl!’
‘Yes Miss,’ said Sandra dutifully, slouching her weight over onto one hip and standing as if it were all too boring.
‘And I would also describe that insulting posture as insolence!’
There was no doubt about it, she was definitely in a mood.
Sandra straightened herself up. Miss Walker pointed airily to an exercise book on her desk.
Another book was thrown onto the desk.
‘So is that.’
‘Yes Miss,’ said Sandra.
‘And where is your English homework?’
‘I — I didn’t do it —’
‘Didn’t do it!’ Miss Walker leaned back in her chair. ‘I am offended and even a little hurt by that, you know Sandra.’
Sandra bit her lip in embarrassment.
‘As a matter of fact, if it were anyone else but you I’d have nothing more to do with her.’
Sandra shuffled awkwardly.
‘Stand still when I’m talking to you.’
The lecture went on — and on. Sandra felt worse by the moment. She felt almost ashamed of herself. Miss Walker knew exactly what she was doing. At last she leaned forward, elbows on her desk.
‘And now I should like to know whether, should I decide to give you any more of my time out of school hours in order to help you through your exams, you will make good use of it?’
Sandra nodded dumbly.
‘Do you mean “yes”?’
‘Y — yes Miss, please.’
Miss Walker seemed to consider for a moment, then she stood up and walked out from behind her desk.
‘Then perhaps you would come with me.’
Sandra watched as her teacher walked to the door of the store-room which adjoined the classroom.
‘Well?’ said Miss Walker.
Sandra followed obediently.
Miss Walker ushered Sandra through the door then closed it behind them. The room was long and narrow, with racks for books and a tall stool in one corner.
Unsure of herself, Sandra turned to look at her teacher, not understanding what she was doing there.
‘Please remove your blazer Sandra,’ said Miss Walker.
‘P — pardon Miss?’
‘Your blazer. Take it off.’
‘Yes Miss.’ She took it off and laid it on an empty shelf.
‘And now your tights, if that’s what you’re wearing.’
‘No, I’m wearing stockings.’ She looked at her teacher with a question in her eyes.
Miss Walker didn’t bother to enlighten her pupil so Sandra had to say…
‘May I ask what —’
‘Yes you may,’ said Miss Walker. ‘It is my intention to punish you for your past thoughtlessness, in the hopes that you will mend your ways in the future.’ She looked at Sandra waiting for her to protest. ‘Any objections?’
‘No, I suppose not,’ she said, after a bit.
‘Quite, I should think not as well!’ She opened the door as if to leave. ‘I’m just going to the staff room, in case I’m wanted there, and I shall be right back. You will wait for me in here.’ The teacher stepped back into the classroom, then returned with a gym slipper, which she tossed on a shelf. She watched for Sandra’s reaction, waiting to see if she’d understand.
‘Yes Miss,’ she said, ‘I’ll wait.’
‘Good,’ said Miss Walker, and closed the door.
And now Sandra began to connect the tingle down inside her knickers less with the fact that she knew she was going to get slippered very soon than with the realisation, although she really ought to have worked it out before, she thought, that it was because she knew that Miss Walker had a crush on her, and leaving aside the schoolgirl jargon, that meant she fancied her.
By the time the teacher got back, Sandra was already in a state of considerable excitement, and she could feel the dampness between her legs penetrating through her tight knickers.
Miss Walker looked different somehow when she came back. Fresher, younger.
She stood in the doorway, looking at Sandra in an odd kind of way, and then, carefully, and rather theatrically, she came in and closed the door.
In a voice that was softer, friendlier than usual, she said, ‘I’ve locked the classroom door, just in case.’ She smiled one of her rare smiles. ‘We don’t want any unexpected visitors, do we?’ She came over to Sandra and carefully, almost gently, she straightened her tie. She looked into the girl’s face, very close to her.
‘You know what I’m going to do, don’t you?’ she said.
Sandra’s answer was almost inaudible. ‘Yes Miss, I think so.’
Miss Walker took the quietness of Sandra’s answer for nervousness and put a hand on her shoulder to reassure her.
‘Don’t worry my dear,’ she said, ‘It won’t be so bad for you really. I’m much too fond of you, you know.’
Sandra smiled a little bit, thinking that it looked like it was Miss Walker who needed reassuring rather than herself. ‘Yes Miss,’ she said, ‘then I’ll be alright, won’t I.’
Miss Walker took her hand off Sandra’s shoulder and rested it instead on her hip.
‘Very well then,’ she said, her voice soft and musical, ‘Shall We Begin?’ She reached down and eased the zip on Sandra’s skirt an inch or so.
Understanding, Sandra undid the hook and slid the zip open, then slipped out of her skirt and put it on the shelf with her blazer.
Her knickers were white cotton, but much briefer than the regulation school ones which all the girls had to wear up to the age of sixteen. The suspender belt was white also, contrasting with the black stockings.
The teacher tried not to stare, unsure of her ground still, wanting to touch, but not yet daring.
She kept her voice steady, and softly said, ‘Bend over please, Sandra.’
‘Yes Miss,’ said Sandra, unnecessarily, from force of habit. She bent down, reaching for her toes.
‘No, over my lap,’ said Miss Walker, her hand lightly, briefly, just brushing against her bottom. ‘This way would be better, I think,’ she said, ‘So that I can — um — get to you.’
So Sandra leaned forward across the shelf of her lap, her knickers pulling tight across her pert bottom, slipping down a little and exposing the dimpled beginning of the division of her buttocks.
Miss Walker pulled them up, pretending to stretch them tighter but touching and touching again, her soft fingers having a mind of their own.
And Sandra pretended, too, that she hadn’t noticed, staying still trying to supress the butterflies that were running riot in her loins, trying not to catch the hand between her thighs and keep it there as Miss Walker meticulously tidied the arrangement of Sandra’s knickers with slim, delicate fingers.
The little tremble which ran through Sandra’s thighs convinced Miss Walker that she’d better get on with it before the poor girl started to pee herself with fright, so she arranged a last little crease in the white cotton and picked up the slipper.
‘Don’t be embarrassed if you want to cry,’ said Miss Walker, ‘a young girl like you usually would you know. It won’t matter at all.’
Sandra said ‘Yes Miss — er, I mean no Miss.’
‘There’s a good girl,’ said Miss Walker, and then started to slap lightly with the supple slipper, the sound it made hardly more than a quiet patting.
She waited, watching for effects, knowing that the sheer humiliation might bring on the tears already.
But nothing happened, so she slapped again, and again, the rubber sound deadened by the thin cotton knickers.
She swung the slipper a little harder, and then a little harder still, enough to pinken the virgin paleness of the girl’s skin where the slipper overlapped the edge of her knickers.
Sandra twitched her bottom as the spanks got stingier, and her little movements puckered and pulled the cotton pants into fascinating rucks between her plump cheeks making Miss Walker start to catch her breath in short, panting gasps which would have been more appropriate coming from the girl whose bottom was smarting under the slipper.
The rosiness around the sides of Sandra’s bottom grew more interesting by the minute, and Miss Walker found the wanting to know what the rest of Sandra’s chubby bum looked like quite irresistible. But did she dare risk it?
Sandra, amazingly, had so far uttered not the slightest sound of protest. Hovering on the brink of doing something which was probably very, very foolhardy, Miss Walker gave the girl’s tempting cheeks one particularly hearty spank which made her jump forward with a plaintive little cry. For one desperate moment the teacher thought that her so-far-willing victim was about to leap to her feet and scream in protest, but incredibly she didn’t. Swerving her punished bottom from side to side Sandra stayed obediently in position on her tummy, and only the airy hiss of her breath through her teeth betrayed her acute discomfort.
Miss Walker took the plunge. As Sandra continued to wriggle her bum this way and that, Miss Walker tucked a greatly daring finger under the elastic of the girl’s pants and edged them a little way down over her bum. She waited for an outcry, but none came. Sandra’s cheeks nudged softly against the white cotton of her pants as if they too wanted to be free of their confinement. Pinkly they shone with a healthy radiance which looked quite tender in places.
With a spank here and a sharper slap there, Miss Walker slipped the white knickers down over the tremulous, gently bobbing firmness of Sandra’s bum, the rosiness seeming richer and of a deeper hue the lower down the cheeks the knickers slid. Between smacks the knickers descended to the point where the under-crease of the girl’s buttocks joined her thighs, and a shadowed nook revealed itself at the very apex of her legs. This dark and interesting little place fascinated the increasingly excited teacher as it appeared, and she tugged Sandra’s knickers down so that they were inside-out and the gusset had been pulled from within the moist nook.
Almost overcome by the wanting to touch, Miss Walker compensated for her frustration by raining a series of sharp and smarting smacks full upon the plump cheeks, which forced gasps of anguish from Sandra’s lips and made her abandon the modest way in which she had been lying over her teacher’s knees, in favour of a series of frantic wriggles and kicks which made modesty an impossibility.
Unaware of her teacher’s temptations, Sandra began to experience the first taste of sexual pleasures herself. She knew that she had been the victim of her own selfishness when she was prepared to accept the punishment which her favourite teacher considered she deserved. Sandra had to admit that she had taken Miss Walker’s obvious affections for granted and this kind of punishment would probably bring them both to their senses. So she swallowed her childlike pride and bravely suffered the spanking Miss Walker gave her.
It was only when her bottom was bared and she felt the sting of the slipper on her naked flesh, that the first sensations of pleasure were felt by the repentant pupil. The rhythmic slaps on her bobbing buttocks made her aware that her young vibrant body lay helplessly on the legs of such a powerful and appealing lady. Instead of pain, Sandra experienced a feeling of radiance and vitality.
Sandra’s bottom felt bare and beautiful, afire with the glow of the spanking, but alive with the knowledge that it was Miss Walker’s hand on the slipper that banged so heavily on her joggling buttocks. She could not have guessed that the teacher was experiencing these same moving experiences; so each tried to hide their emotions by not saying anything to each other.
Needless to say, it was Sandra who was the weaker and the combination of her wriggling, bobbing body movements together with the enjoyable groans she made, confirmed Miss Walker’s suspicions that the girl was in a state of sexual satisfaction.
This gave the teacher the confidence to undo a button of Sandra’s blouse and slip her eager hand through to the tempting little breasts swinging invitingly next to her own thigh.
‘Mmmmm,’ moaned the girl as the fingers worked their way across her tingling flesh. Miss Walker cupped the breast softly in her palm, squeezing it gently in rhythm with the steady strokes of the slipper on Sandra’s jogging bum.
Each of them encouraged the other’s advances without a word passing between them, with the slipper cracking faster and harder on the shiny, bouncing backside as their sexual climax reached its height. The final blows on Sandra’s beautiful and glowing cheeks were sharp, painful wallops, each one landing soundly in motion with her powerful jerkings and joggings. But she did not feel any pain from the slipper, just the increased sexual sensations of its rhythm in time with her own growing climax.
Finally, and without warning, Sandra burst out crying. She collapsed in a pile in front of the teacher, sobbing and wailing like a small chastised child.
‘Oh Miss, oh oh Miss, I feel so funny.’ She looked up at her teacher helplessly, longing for comfort.
Miss Walker put an arm round the girl’s shoulder, gave her a warm smile and felt satisfied that the events of that day had accomplished so many things.