Boarding School Slave

( 11 )


FROM THE #1 BESTSELLING EROTIC EBOOK AUTHOR Diane is a cute, naive 18-year-old nearing her graduation from the British Argonne School for Girls. When she runs afoul of the rules, the imposing dean, Emily Winters, thinks she knows just what Diane needs: a little discipline and a little training. Over the ensuing weeks, Diane finds herself drawn to the older woman and soon enters a submissive relationship. When Dean Winters needs to raise money for the school, she finds a willing participant in Diane, who is happy ...
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FROM THE #1 BESTSELLING EROTIC EBOOK AUTHOR Diane is a cute, naive 18-year-old nearing her graduation from the British Argonne School for Girls. When she runs afoul of the rules, the imposing dean, Emily Winters, thinks she knows just what Diane needs: a little discipline and a little training. Over the ensuing weeks, Diane finds herself drawn to the older woman and soon enters a submissive relationship. When Dean Winters needs to raise money for the school, she finds a willing participant in Diane, who is happy to "encourage" donors to open up their wallets.
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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9781419662942
  • Publisher: CreateSpace
  • Publication date: 1/31/2007
  • Pages: 150
  • Product dimensions: 5.25 (w) x 8.00 (h) x 0.34 (d)

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"You know the rules, Missy."

Dean of students Emily Winters called all the students at Yorkshire's Argonne School for Girls "Missy." Some of the girls said it was because she'd gone senile and couldn't remember anyone's name. But Diane Atherton knew Mrs. Winters was no fool.

The cute, brunette teenager stood before the imposing figure, her head hung low. "Yes, Mrs. Winters."

"This is your third infraction this term, you know." The tall, slender, fifty-something woman seemed to enjoy Diane's humiliation. Diane wondered if she secretly got off on it. It wouldn't surprise her. Mrs. Winters had been a fixture at the school since WWII, more than twenty years ago. Diane knew that her husband, a Royal Marine, had been killed in that war and the dean had never remarried. The dried-up old woman seemed so out-of-date in Britian's "mod" sixties.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Winters. It wasn't my fault--"

"Ahh, the bleatings of the innocent. It's always someone else's fault, isn't it? I swear, kids today can never accept blame for anything!"

"But it wasn't, Mrs. Winters. Suzanne told me--"

"That's enough." Her hand went up, silencing the eighteen-year-old girl. "I've talked to everyone involved. Don't think for a minute that you're the only one receiving punishment."

"But I was just standing there--"

"I said, that's enough!" Mrs. Winters sighed. "You're going to graduate in a couple months--is this what you've learned here? That it's okay to flout authority? I wonder what your mum would say about your behavior? She'd probably be mad at Argonne for not teaching you better."

Diane felt a tear form in the corner of one eye andcursed her luck. She had just been standing in the wrong place at the wrong time when it happened! Suzanne had told her Beatrice was playing a joke on Enid and she should come watch. She had been in the room only a few minutes, just long enough to see the bucket of feathers rain down on poor dumb Enid, when Mrs. Samuelson caught them all and sent them back to their dorm rooms.

Now, a day later, Diane had been called in to face her punishment. She'd had all night to dwell on it and dammit, it wasn't fair! Sure, she'd violated the rules twice before, but they were silly rules and she hadn't meant to anyway. These things just seemed to happen to her. She'd always been good, since she had first arrived here when she was ten. She had obeyed the rules and never gotten in serious trouble.

Only during her last year here had she strayed. Call it teenage rebellion or call it hormones. She had had a lot more trouble her final year obeying all their silly rules!

Diane's first visit to Mrs. Winters had been an eye-opening experience. She had stood in this very spot not four months ago, quaking before the imperious dean, wondering what might happen to her. In addition to being tall, Mrs. Winters had the palest blue eyes Diane had ever seen. Matched with graying hair she kept in a no-nonsense bun, the dean looked merciless. Diane thought of calling her mum, but knew she'd support the school. "Good schools aren't cheap," her mum would've told her. "Stop messing around, abide by the rules and finish your education!"

When Mrs. Winters had outlined how punishments worked at Argonne, Diane had thought she might wet her pants.

"The first infraction is five strikes with the cane, through your skirt," Mrs. Winter had said, swishing the supple cane through the air as Diane looked on, horrified. "It's really no punishment at all, merely a wakeup call. You'll bend over my desk, on your elbows, and I'll give you your punishment."

"A-are you allowed to do that?" Diane asked, thinking there must be a ban on such barbaric practices.

Mrs. Winters had pulled herself up to her full, six-foot height and laughed. "Of course we are! Your parents saw the rules when they signed up. If they didn't agree, there are far more liberal schools they could've sent you to!" She had mouthed the word "liberal" as if it had been a curse word.

She had moved closer to the quaking girl. "What you have to keep in mind is that the punishments increase if you continue to flout the rules. If I see you in here again, your next session will entail ten swats with the cane through your knickers!"

Diane had been shocked speechless. That had sounded, well, dirty. She had had no experience with sex, although her imagination had run rampant on occasions, especially after she had turned sixteen.

"And if I see you in here a third time this semester, well, I hope I don't because the punishment is fifteen swats with the cane on your bare bum!"

Oh, that was just perverse, Diane remembered thinking. Surely no one's actually been caned like that! She could have her reported, couldn't she?

But it had been true, all of it. Her parents had signed off on the rules when they had sent her here eight years ago. She had accepted her first caning and the old bird had been right, it hadn't hurt too bloody much. Her skirt had protected her from most of the sting. Still, it had been embarrassing, bent over like that while Mrs. Winters swatted her. Thank god no one else had been in the room.

The second time she'd violated the rules, Diane had been quite nervous, but had remembered how relatively easy her first session had gone, so she hadn't been too worried. But oh, how that cane had stung when only her knickers had protected her pale white bottom! Ten strokes seemed like a hundred when she had to crouch over the desk and take it, her skirt tucked up under her belt. She had started crying at stroke four and was begging by stroke seven, wiggling her bottom all around and screaming. By the time Mrs. Winters had finished, Diane had nearly passed out from the pain. Her ass had remained well-marked for a week.

What she hadn't told anyone, however, was the other feeling the switchings had given her. It wasn't something she could articulate, even to herself, but the caning had made her loins so hot she had to touch herself the moment she had gotten into the nearest WC and locked herself into a stall. Her sore bum prevented her from sitting on the toilet, so she just stood, her skirt held up and her knickers pushed down and touched the shiny button that protruded from her "naughty bits" in front. She had rubbed it just a few seconds before she achieved a shuddering climax. She had fallen against the stall wall and hoped no one had noticed.

God! That had been lovely! It certainly didn't make up for the caning, but the orgasm had been the most intense of her young life. She knew a little about such things, of course, and had managed to give herself a few orgasms at her own hand, but none had approached the power of that one.

Now, standing before Mrs. Winters for the third time, Diane both dreaded and was curious about what was to come. The pain, she knew, would be horrible. She might even pass out. But would it translate into that funny feeling that had led to a bone-jarring orgasm? She found herself growing wet at the very thought.

"Do you know, in all my years as dean, how many girls I've had in here who have faced me three times in one semester?"

"N-no, ma'am."

"Exactly nine, including you. Not too many come back after their second session."

"But Mrs. Winters, I didn't--"

"Enough! I've heard your bleatings, your excuses. You were caught and you're going to be punished." She picked up the cane.

"Please, Mrs. Winters, I can't take that many!" Not on my bare bum!

"Trust me, you'll take your punishment, one way or the other. That's the rules. Now bend over my desk."

Diane didn't know what she meant, "one way or the other." Was there an alternative? Mrs. Winters grabbed her neck when she didn't immediately obey and forced her head down on the blotter. She whimpered, but stayed in position. She felt the dean move to her ass and flip up her skirt, then tuck it into her belt. God, she was embarrassed! But her humiliation increased when the woman tugged down Diane's knickers and let them fall to the floor.

"Lift your legs and step out of them," she commanded and Diane obeyed, her mind petrified with fear.

Mrs. Winters came close to Diane's face and leaned down. "Now, you are going to scream holy murder," she whispered. "So I'm going to gag you." Before Diane could react, the dean had shoved her dirty knickers into her mouth! She tried to pull them out, but Mrs. Winters grabbed her arm. "Would you like me to tie your hands behind your back?"

Diane shook her head.

"Then leave them in. You'll need them." She moved back, out of her vision and Diane waited, her legs trembling.

The first blow caught her by surprise. Whish-slap! "Mmmpphhh!" She screamed into her gag, now grateful it was there. The pain rocketed up from her bottom to her head, then ricocheted down her legs, making them rubbery. Without even the thin protection of her knickers, the cane seemed to set her bum on fire.

The second blow came and Diane knew she'd never make it to fifteen. No way. She screamed again and started to stand up, her hands moving behind her to protect her tender ass. Instantly, Mrs. Winters was on her, grabbing her neck to force her back down, then taking a bit of cord from her pocket and tying Diane's wrists together behind her back.

"You can't protect yourself, Missy. You broke the rules and now you must pay the price. Maybe next time you'll think twice before you run roughshod over Argonne's traditions!"

Diane was shaking her head now, damning Suzanne, damning Beatrice and especially damning this horrible school. She wanted to go home. She wanted to curl up in her own bed, surrounded by her teddy bears, and go to sleep for a year.

The third blow came, arching her back up and dropping her back down on the desk, hurting her breasts. Her chin banged on the blotter, causing stars to shoot through her brain. She thought she might pass out.

It was the fourth blow that achieved that milestone. Diane felt the pain wash over her, then slumped down. She didn't remember hitting the floor.

She awoke a few minutes later and found herself cradled in Mrs. Winter's lap. She was lying on the rug in front of her desk. Her knickers were gone from her mouth. Her hands were untied.

"Oh, my, I don't think you're going to be able to take your punishment if you pass out so easily," the dean said softly, hugging her to her chest, rubbing her hands over her body. Diane, who was lying on her side, found comfort in her abuser's arms. Her ass boiled with pain, but that funny feeling had returned to her pussy. She wished the dean would touch her there, even as she was shocked by the thought.

She realized she was still naked from the waist down, although her skirt had partially flipped down to cover her. She wanted to reach underneath her skirt and touch herself, just for a second.

"Only four strokes and you pass out!" Mrs. Winters was saying. "I guess we'll have to come up with another punishment."

"Oh, please, Mrs. Winters, yes. Let's do. I can't take that any more. My bum hurts terribly!"

"Well, you're not the only one, that's to be sure," she told her. "I thought you girls were made of tougher stuff. But I guess I was wrong. Why, in my day, we'd stand there and take our fifteen whacks and not move a muscle!"

Diane couldn't believe it. "Y-you got punished?"

"Oh, yes--once. Then I learned my lesson. Never again."

"What did you do?"

"It doesn't matter. What matters is, I had to stand just where you were standing and take it. And I did." She helped Diane to her feet. Her legs were so rubbery, Diane thought she might fall down again.

"Now, you know that I owe you eleven more strokes..."

Diane gasped. "But you said there was an alternate punishment! I'll take that!"

"Very well. But you're not going to like it any better, I'm afraid."

Diane's heart thumped. "W-what is it?"

Mrs. Winters went to the drawer and pulled out a strange object. It looked like several short lengths of soft cotton rope, dyed black, all tied together at the base to make a thick handle. The ends were frayed, exposing soft strips of batting within. It didn't look like it would hurt her bottom all that much, she thought. It certainly was an improvement over the cane!

The dean held it up. "This is a pussy whip."

Diane couldn't believe her ears. She backed away. "No!"

"Now I told you that you wouldn't like it! But that's the alternative. If you'd rather I continued the caning, we'll do that."

"No! I can't!" Anything but the caning. "There must be something else!"

"Expulsion," Mrs. Winters said, holding the whip up for her to see. "That would mean your parents just wasted eight years of schooling, and all within three months of your graduation!"

Diane realized she was trapped. Finally, she nodded. "W-what do I have to do?"

"Take off your skirt. Lie back on the desk, legs up. Be careful of your bottom, dear. You'll want to get your legs up and well apart so your sore bum doesn't touch the desk."

Diane, hands shaking, let her skirt fall to the floor. She gingerly moved into position, feeling completely humiliated. This was worse than her first visit to the ob-gyn, two years ago. But at least her bottom hadn't hurt as much then.

Mrs. Winters moved in between her wide-spread legs. "Now, I'm going to start with stroke number five. I'll come at you from the left, then the right and alternate. I will also move up or down to include your inner thighs and your pretty little pussy." She briefly reached in and let her fingers just brush Diane's downy hair between her legs. The girl feared the dean might notice how wet she was.

"Although this is on a sensitive spot, it doesn't hurt as much as the cane. Because of that, you have to take all the remaining blows in a row, without breaking my rhythm, or we'll have to start over. Understand?"

"Please..." she begged. She was sure this would ruin her sensitive pussy forever.

"Do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Do you need your gag?"

"No!" The thought of those nasty knickers repelled her.

"Very well. Try not to scream."

Whack! The dean had been right, the blow didn't hurt nearly as much as the cane, Diane quickly discovered. Whack! She yelped. It stung, but in a much, well, nicer way, she thought. Whack! She felt the heat in her pussy increase. Whack! Oh, god, the heat was becoming unbearable. Whack! Yes! Again, do it again! Whack! Oh, god, oh god! Whack! Oh, no, I think I might come! Whack! No, please, not in front of the dean! Whack! Hold it, hold it! Whack!

"Aaaauugh!" Diane climaxed and rolled over to her side, shaking and crying with the power of it.

"Ohh, and we were so close," she heard the dean say. "You were just one stroke away."

Diane hardly heard her, lost as she was in an orgasm that sent her mind whirling off in several directions. When she finally regained her senses, she realized both her hands were pressed hard against her pussy. She looked over at Mrs. Winters and suddenly felt acutely embarrassed.

My god! I just climaxed in front of this dried up old dean!

"Oh, my goodness! I'm so embarrassed!" She put a hand over her eyes.

"Don't be. I've found that this reaction does happen once in a while."

"Really? Wow. It was ... amazing."

"It's supposed to be punishment," Mrs. Winters admonished.

"I'm sorry. I mean, it did hurt and all." Diane tried to sound convincing.

"You know we have to start over."

Diane looked up, something like hope in her eyes. "Yes?"

"Yes. You didn't complete your punishment." She looked at her watch. "Now, I don't have time to continue it today. But I'd like you to come by here at five p.m. the day after tomorrow, all right?"

Diane nodded, her mind awhirl. She was supposed to feel bad about not being done with her punishment, wasn't she? Yet her pussy tingled at the very thought of another session with the pussy whip.

She eased herself off the desk. She found her damp knickers and slipped them on, grimacing when they touched her sore ass. She wished she'd known about the "alternative" punishment earlier! As she pulled them into place, her eyes fell on Mrs. Winters' blotter. There, right where she had spread herself open, she had left a large wet stain from her climax. Diane turned crimson and looked away.

"Five o'clock, day after tomorrow. Don't be late," Mrs. Winters warned.

"I won't."

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