From Roué 43. This is the last ever Spankers Gallery feature.
Biology had never been one of Cindy Bracewell’s strongest subjects. Had her teacher — even every now and then — chosen to deal with the workings of the human body instead of waffling on about the wonder of frogspawn or the miracles of the kingdom of plants, she might have shown something bordering on interest. As it was, she never failed to be bored in the extreme by Mr Reed’s weekly sessions in the lab.
This particular lesson had been no exception; indeed, Cindy’s inattentiveness had caused the teacher to instruct her to report back to the laboratory at the end of the school day. This was by no means a rare event; Mr Reed quite often had the leggy, blonde-haired, blue-eyed sixth-former report to him, and these visits usually resulted in Cindy being set extra homework — such as a thousand-word essay on the reproductive system of the monitor lizard.
Cindy’s final lesson finished early, and when making her way along to the Biology lab she encountered her heart-throb of the week, Ian. The girl didn’t take much persuading when the lad suggested a bit of slap-and tickle in the stock-room.
On their way there they noticed that the Biology lab was deserted. Cindy had another twenty minutes before her appointment with Mr Reed, so the couple decided to avail themselves of the comparatively less cramped surroundings of the lab for their spot of nooky.
In their haste and eagerness to get down to things, Cindy and Ian didn’t think about checking to see if Mr Reed’s back room was empty, and set about their fun and games with great relish.
The back room was not empty; Mr Reed was busying himself with the feeding of his soon-to-be-bisected frogs and rats. He was disturbed by the sounds of feminine moans of pleasure and went to the door and peered through its little window. What met his eyes caused him to drop a jar full of his frogs’ supper. Upon hearing this noise, Ian made good his escape, leaving his partner-in-crime tangled up in her knickers.
Before Cindy could sort herself out, Mr Reed entered the lab, a cane in his left hand.
‘I suppose,’ he began, you are going to tell me that you were brushing-up on human anatomy,’ Cindy ignored this and made to pull her knickers up. ‘Stay just as you are,’ the man told her, as she planted a foot on a nearby stool, ‘I can think of no better position nor any more appropriate state of undress for a naughty schoolgirl to be in for a dose of the cane.’
‘But… but, sir… couldn’t… couldn’t you just give me an essay, sir… or lines perhaps,’ suggested the out-of-breath, blushing Cindy.
‘Lines, young lady?’ Mr Reed exclaimed, ‘why, of course. How many do you suggest?’
‘Er… um… a h-hundred, sir,’ Cindy replied, somewhat relieved.
‘No, no, no, my dear,’ was his response, ‘far too many! How about half-a-dozen?’
‘H-half-a-dozen, sir?’ said the distraught, semi-dressed girl.
‘That’s what I said. Six… Six of the best across that naughty backside of yours… Bend over that stool, young lady…’