June 11, 1896
Edith Bowen

“What took you so long?” Charles asked.

I had just arrived back from retrieving a storage room key from Ms. Maple. She had taken the opportunity to scold me over Mr. Birchwood not having his own as of yet. I did my best to explain he was scheduled to receive them from the Dean in near future but Ms. Maple was less than interested in any excuses.

I soon found myself staring at my bare toes whilst my bare bottom waved in the air under the attentions of Ms. Maple’s desk ruler. Twelve strokes and three jumps in the air later I was permitted to borrow her key and right my clothing. Of course I thanked her profusely for her kindness and as soon as I was out of earshot called her every nasty name I know.

“Ms. Maple.” I answered simply, hoping he would leave it at that but knowing he would not.

“Yes? What about Ms. Maple?”

“She scolded me for not all ready having secured a personal key for you, sir.”

“I am confused.”


“Are you not my assistant, Miss Bowen?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Are you then also the assistant of Ms. Maple?”

“No, sir.”

“Then why should Ms. Maple have anything about which to scold you?”

“I am but an intern, sir. That places me at the bottom rung of just about everyone here and answerable to everyone.”

“Not as long as you are my assistant, Miss Bowen.”


“If anyone takes an issue with you, I want you to immediately refer them to me. If discipline is necessary have no doubt I will carry it out but I cannot abide my assistant being torn in a million pieces by the conflicted and confused instructions of an entire teaching staff. Am I understood?”

“Yes, sir. I am not certain anyone will accept it coming from me but I will do as you say.”

“Very good and I will deal with anyone who does not.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Now I believe we have discussed directness and the consequences for indirect responses?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Would you agree your response of simply, Ms. Maple was an indirect response to my question?”

I sighed.

“Yes, sir.”

“I think you can hand me that key, undress yourself and wait in that corner for me.” Charles pointed to the corner at the far end of the room behind the door.

“Yes, sir.” I replied and handed the key over to him.

There are eighty-seven dimples within eyesight of the corner. I know for certain because I counted them all twice while waiting for Charles to return. When he did, I dared not look away from the corner despite at first not knowing for certain it was Charles. For a man he is light-footed and quiet.

It was only when he cleared his throat I was certain it was him. I could feel him step up close behind me. His warm breath tickled the hairs on the back of my necks. I closed my eyes and leaned backward as if my body was begging for his touch. I shivered when at last his fingertips lightly stroked the skin of my buttocks.

“What did she use?” He asked softly.

He fingers traced the edges of the marks one by one. My breath became rapid. His hand suddenly slapped against my bottom and squeezed.

“What did she use?” He asked more forcefully.

“A desk ruler.” I exhaled.

“Very nice.” He said, his cheek brushing against the small of my back.

His hands massaged the enflamed flesh. He gave it occasional soft pats and squeezes as he explored every inch of my backside. I stood still and focused on controlling my erratic breath. I longed to turn around and kiss the man, but of course he would not be interested in me in that way.

“Did it hurt?” He asked.


“Did you cry?”


His cheek left my back and his hand trailed up from my bottom to my shoulder sending a shiver down my spine as he went. I could feel his breath again on my neck and suddenly he turned me around from the corner.

Instinctively I wrapped an arm over my bare breasts and draped the other to cover between my legs.

“No, no, no.” Charles clucked.

He smiled at me brushed his fingers along my cheek as if wiping away tears.

“You are embarrassed.” He said.

I nodded and looked at the ground.

“You don’t have to be. You are beautiful, Edith.”

I smiled in spite of myself. A moment of courage and I let my arms fall to my sides, exposing myself completely to his judgment.

“That is much better.” He smiled.

He placed his finger under my chin and lifted my head until our eyes met. My heart pounded, my ears pulsed with blood and I desired only to look away from his powerful gaze but I could not bring myself to even blink.

After a quiet moment of understanding, his finger left my chin and tapped my nose.

“Get dressed. I think you have had enough for one day.” He said.

I hesitated for a moment certain he must be teasing me. No teacher had ever let me off before with such a mild punishment no matter what the condition of my bottom. The look in his eyes convinced me though, he was different. Charles Birchwood actually has a heart and just maybe a soul.


Paul said...

Ashley, nice one, thank you.
Warm hugs,

Anonymous said...

A very nice post, full of feeling and erotic electricity. Thank you.
Mr R Fane.