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From: "rache" <rache696@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Education of Samantha, The by Rachael Ross (F/f, FemDom, first, school, BDSM, caning, consensual)
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Date: Wed, 20 Sep 2006 01:10:01 -0400
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The Education of Samantha
Copyright 2006 Rachael Ross all rights reserved. Adults only
Story Codes: F/f, FemDom, first, school, BDSM, caning, consensual
Synopsis: When 14 year old Samantha proposed lowering the age of
consent to 13, she just wanted a good grade on her civics assignment;
she never dreamt that she would find herself actually experiencing the
possible results such a change would bring.

Note: There is a portion of this story in which an argument is made for
lowering the age of consent. It isn't meant to be taken seriously, or
reflect my own opinion on such things. It's the fictional homework
assignment of a fictional character in a fictional story. Don't get
too serious about these things, okay? If you're one of the readers
who have trouble separating fiction from reality, you really
shouldn't read anything I write anyway, but then my scores on SOL
would go up and I'd get a big ego and...Nevermind.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

The Education of Samantha
fiction by rache

Chapters 1 and 2

My name is Samantha, but most everyone calls me Sammie, or sometimes
just Sam. It's a boy's name, I know, but nobody ever really accused
me of being a boy, I was just teased sometimes by the kids at school.
They stopped doing that last year though, right after I turned 13 and I
had my little 'growth spurt' or whatever you want to call it. I
called it a miracle.

It was like overnight I grew from just five feet nothing to 5'4"
and all the baby fat around my tummy moved up to my boobs. Well, some
moved down to my hips too, I guess, maybe even my butt. I went from
wearing no bra to wearing a 30B cup! I had an 18 inch waist and 28 inch
hips, which seemed like totally the opposite of what they were just a
few months before. I had to buy all new clothes, which was way cool
too, and...well, you get the idea. The point is that instead of looking
like a cute little butterball, I started looking like a beautiful young
woman.

I'll admit I got a little hung up on myself. I started worrying about
how the rest of me looked, like my hair. Its auburn, mostly brown but
with a little red in it too, and I had it cut to my shoulders with a
bunch of waves permed into it. I've worn glasses since I was 7 years
old and Daddy let me get contacts, which was a big deal cause I could
get colored contacts, three for the price of two. So now instead of
boring old brown eyes, I have green sometimes, or blue, and even brown.
But instead of boring brown, these are more like hazel with flecks of
gold. So now my eyes look the way they're supposed to. Even after I
get eye surgery when I'm like 16 or 17 maybe, I'll still wear
colored contacts I think, even though I won't need them.

I turned 14 the very day school started this year and nobody teased me
about my name. I'm in the eighth grade, but I'm what they call
'accelerated' so I skip some of the regular classes and take others
that my friends don't. I've always been accelerated and I could
have skipped a grade, probably two, but I didn't really want to, and
my dad didn't make me. I have two sisters, Stacy and Darin, they were
accelerated too and now they're sophomores in college, even though
they're only 17 years old. They're twins. I don't have a twin, so
the idea of skipping grades and going to college early and being alone
just doesn't sound like fun. I'll wait for my friends, you know?

Just because I'm smart doesn't mean I'm good at everything
though. English and math I'm really good at, but some stuff, like
civics, I'm sort of bad at. Mostly because it is so boring all the
time! It's hard to concentrate when you just don't care, and I
spend most of my time in civics just writing poems and haiku, or maybe
a little story like this one about my life. I like writing stories
about myself and my family because it's like keeping a diary except
better. In a diary you're pretty much just writing to yourself, but a
story, even a true one, is meant to be shared. I want to be a famous
writer someday, or maybe an astronaut, I haven't decided yet.
Probably I'll do both and be very famous, and maybe even have my own
MTV show someday.

I need good grades if I want to be an astronaut, I know that. If I'm
just a writer it won't matter so much, but to do both I need a good
college degree and that means I need a good college, like Harvard, or
Princeton maybe. So that means I need some scholarship money, since my
dad can't afford a school like that! My sisters go to college for
free though, so why not me? I just needed really good grades, that's
all, even in 8th grade civics because who knows how far back those
college guys look when they start writing checks? I don't, and I
don't want to take any chances and end up going to a college like
Stanford or something, where all they teach is basket weaving!

"What's wrong, Punkin." Daddy asked me. He'd always called me
pumpkin, but he made it sound funny and I'd liked it when I was
little. But then I'd sort of resented it for a little while, since I
thought I'd looked like a pumpkin for a couple years. Now that I
didn't though, so I sort of liked it again.

"I have to write a paper for civics." We were eating supper, just
me and my dad. My brother, who is 15, was at basketball practice.
He'd had a growth spurt too when he was 14 and now he was almost six
feet tall and sort of clumsy. He was a good basketball player though,
when he wasn't tripping over stuff. Boys are sort of weird.

My dad shrugged, "That shouldn't be too hard. Do you want some help
with it?" He was always trying to help me with stuff, but I never
needed it, and usually ended up explaining stuff to him. Especially
physics, he was terrible at it, but he liked to try anyway.

"No, that's okay. I just have to think of a law I'd like to
change and why." I chewed my food slowly; it was dad's special tuna
casserole. He put croutons in it, that's why it's special.

"Hmmm..." he nodded. "Have you got any ideas?"

"Not yet. I was thinking about maybe 14 year olds should be able to
drive." It wasn't a very good idea, but it was something anyway.

Daddy chuckled. "I think they shouldn't give out licenses until
people are 26 at least."

"Yeah right!" I giggled a little. "That would really get Jeremy
mad." My brother was started his driver's education class and Daddy
had promised him a car for his 16th birthday. He was pretty excited
about that.

I cleaned up after supper, still wondering which law I would change and
why. Every law I could think of sounded pretty good, but I didn't
know all the laws though. I don't think anybody does, so maybe I just
needed to look for a stupid one, like one of those 'it's illegal to
spit on the sidewalk before noon on Thursdays without a state spitting
permit' or something. Whatever it was, I need it to be a good one,
because I needed to ace that assignment. My teacher, Mr. Lawson, could
be a real jerk and he wouldn't hesitate to give me a B or even a B-
if I wasn't careful. I suspected Harvard wouldn't even think about
taking someone who got a B- in civics!

*riiing*

I was in my room, surfing the internet and looking for good laws to
change, meaning bad ones, when my phone rang. My dad had told me once
that a long time ago people couldn't get online and talk on the phone
at the same time, but that seemed sort of silly to me; what good was
that? I almost wished there were a law against talking on the phone and
surfing the net simultaneously; that would have been a good one to
change. But I guess it had only been a bad idea, and someone had fixed
it. I got a cellular phone for my 14th birthday and I couldn't even
imagine not having one now, barely a few months later.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Sam, what's up?" It was my sister Darin, everybody calls
her Dare, but not because she's adventurous or anything, she isn't.
Dare is a total bookworm, way more than me, and a thousand times more
than Stacy. Darin does homework the way kids eat ice cream, as fast as
they can until they get a headache, and then they eat more. She does
homework so fast that she does Stacy's too. I wished she'd do mine.

"Hi, nothing, just doing my homework." We talked for awhile about
school and the report I was supposed to write and then about Daddy and
then about her and Stacy. Darin calls me a lot, since we didn't have
a mom or anything, and that was okay. I like my sisters.

"Here, Stacy wants to say hi." Darin finally said after our
goodbyes.

"Hi munchkin." Stacy was smiling; I could hear it over the phone.
She always smiles and people like her a lot. Especially boys. Dare
doesn't really like boys, I don't think. She had one boyfriend
once, but that was all, and she never even kissed him. If I had a
boyfriend I'd be kissing him all the time! All the boys I know are
pretty boring though, sort of stupid too. So maybe not.

"Hi Stace." We started talking about the same stuff I'd just
talked to Darin about, except Stacy had an idea for my civics
assignment. She always had ideas, but they were usually really strange
and ended up making you wonder how she ever thought they could possibly
work. But sometimes she had good ones too.

"So you need to get an A on it, huh?" She made a little sound like
she was thinking. "Hmmmm..."

"Do you know any good laws to change?" I asked her hopefully, but
if Dare couldn't think of one, then I seriously doubted Stacy would.

"Maybe." she said, "Tell me about this teacher of yours."

"Mr. Lawson?" I shrugged even though Stacy couldn't see it. "I
don't know, he's just a teacher."

"Is he young? Old? Friendly? Nice? Mean?" Stacy asked, not giving
me time to answer. "Does he ever, uh..."

"What?"

Stacy paused like she was wondering if she should say what she wanted
to, or maybe she was looking to make sure Darin couldn't hear her,
and I sensed one of her whacky ideas coming.

"Come on, what?" I asked impatiently, feeling curious now.

"Well, does he ever look at you?" Stacy had lowered her voice a
little. "You know, like...look at you?" She stressed the words like
they meant something else.

I'm not dumb; I knew what she was asking. After I turned thirteen I
noticed a lot of guys looking at me, and not just boys my age either. I
mean men who were older, like way older sometimes. It had made me a
little uncomfortable at first, but mostly because I still thought of
myself as being sort of short and round, instead of tall and curvy.
Once I got used to it I started liking it and I even went out of my way
sometimes to make sure those guys got a good look at the new me. It
wasn't hurting anything and it made me feel good about myself, so
what's wrong with that?

"Um, well, sometimes he sort of stares at me..." I admitted. "He
looks mad though if I catch him, well, not mad, just..." I had to
think about it.

"Embarrassed?" Stacy laughed, "A little guilty maybe?"

"Yeah, maybe."

"That's good then!" My sister sounded happy. "Here's what you
do then, look up this law 'Statutory Rape' and write your paper
about that."

"Statutory Rape?" I frowned a little as I wrote it down. "Why
would I want to change a law against rape?" I wondered aloud.

"It's not what you think." Stacy was giggling.

"What should I say?"

"Just read the law, the interesting parts, and you'll know what to
do." Stacy assured me. "Just don't pull a Darin, 'kay?"

A Darin was what Stacy called it if you chickened out of something. It
was a phrase that really annoyed Dare and always made me laugh.

"Okay." I said, not really sure what I was agreeing to.

"Good. If you run into trouble just give me a call, right?"

"Uh-huh." We said our goodbyes and hung up our phones and I went to
work on my paper, finding the information I needed and typing it up the
way Mr. Lawson told he us wanted it. I really did know what to do!

Pavageau, Samantha K.					23 Oct. 2006
Civics II - Mr. Lawson
Assignment 2 - C

Proposed changes to Washington State Code 17.2.1d and 23.1.1a
Statutory Rape of a Minor
By S.K. Pavageau

Under the current laws in the State of Washington any person who, for
sexual purposes, touches another person under the age of 16 may be
found guilty of Statutory Rape of a Minor. This touching is not limited
to, nor solely defined as sexual intercourse, but may include any
contact of a physical nature if such contact is determined by the state
to be willfully committed for the purpose of sexual gratification. The
accused is not entitled to claim defense on the grounds of consent or
mistake regarding the victim's age.

Washington law states that persons under the age of 16 are incapable of
providing consent. I propose that this law be changed to reflect the
increasing level of maturity not only expected of young women today,
but also evidenced by them every day. As our culture has advanced
through medicine, education, and social reform, we must be willing and
able to recognize that as individuals we too have advanced rapidly over
the last several generations. While our youth must always be protected,
it should be acknowledged that as conditions change, so too must our
perception of those conditions.

Although not physically mature, the issues of sexual and emotional
maturity are the factors with which we must be concerned. While this
law is not gender specific and applies equally to male and female, I
feel justified in proposing the age of consent be lowered to that
determined by nature itself in the form of sexual maturity,
particularly for females. By the age of thirteen most young women have
begun menstruating and are capable of ovulation; males have begun
producing sperm. Through normal and healthy physical contact there is
no danger of physical injury and in fact it is just that sort of
contact our biology and instinct require at that stage of human
development.

Emotionally, once again the conclusion must be reached that today's
youth is better educated, informed, and independent than any previous
generation, despite the fact that earlier in our nation's history it
was not uncommon for a woman of 14 or 15 to be married and raising a
family of her own. As society changed to allow greater economic
independence and improved opportunities for such things as leisure and
education, the reliance on young women to support the community was
lessened and even regarded with suspicion. We have experienced a moral
reformation over the past century, which is an unnecessary burden on
our society.

I propose lowering the age of consent to 13 years with sincere belief
that this will reduce or even eliminate many of the problems which now
face. By allowing young women to experience sexual contact, not only
with persons their own age, but most especially with men (and women)
possessing a significant advantage in terms of experience and
responsibility, we provide our young adults with the tools necessary
for more effective and efficient integration with society. Rather than
the needless fear and cultural paranoia surrounding the secretive
relationships that do currently exist between minors and adults, we
should embrace them for what they are: the opportunities to strengthen
our social bonds and end this bitter oppression which we have endured
far too long.

Thank you.

(signed) Samantha K. Pavageau
#0968117443

It took me a long time to write my report and I spent a lot of time
after that rewriting it, because I wanted to sound like I knew what I
was talking about. Big words are always good for a little extra credit
and I was hoping I used enough of them to get me a little plus sign,
you know? Like a B+ would be really good, and if I was gonna get that
anyway, then an A- would be way cool. Anyway, I figured my report would
be good enough for a B and if I'd understood Stacy and what she'd
seemed to be suggesting, then Mr. Lawson might just find it interesting
enough to give me an A. I sure hoped so! I even put my celphone number
at the bottom, underneath my signature, just in case he had any
questions about it.

It was kind of fun doing that assignment, I have to admit. It made me
feel a little funny inside, sort of warm, when I paused to think about
what I was really saying. The idea that a man could just ask me on a
date, a grown up man I mean, that seemed silly maybe, but nice too. Why
wouldn't I want a boyfriend who was a lot older than me? He'd
probably know all sorts of stuff, like how to kiss and all that. He
could show me how to be a real woman and I wouldn't have to worry
about some boy my age trying to figure it all out as we went along.
Yeah, I thought as I slipped into bed after my bath, it would
definitely be okay with me if a real man wanted to teach me about sex.

I felt like I was growing a little more, lying under my covers in my
little sleepy t-shirt. It had been big on me once, but I'd gotten a
lot taller, so now it barely covered my butt. I had a new one, but I
liked my old one, it was soft and comfortable and I rubbed the cotton
material over my breasts cause my nipples were itching. They did that
sometimes, especially if I was thinking about sex stuff. They got puffy
and hard and even felt cold sometimes, which was strange, but then
they'd get hot again too.

When I rubbed my boobs it made my sex feel good, like they were
connected somehow. I'd had my sex ed class already, in seventh grade,
so I knew about my body. Besides, I was on the internet a lot and that
taught me a whole bunch more that my teacher hadn't bothered to
mention. I found one web site once, completely by accident, I swear,
that taught girls how to masturbate. It's true! There were pictures
and everything, not drawings either, I mean photographs of pretty girls
my age, like 13 and 14, who were doing it. So I knew about my clitoris
and everything, except my clit was really tiny and it felt good, but I
wished it was a little bigger. It was like it was hiding from me
mostly.

The first time I'd had an orgasm I thought I'd broken something
down there. It sounds dumb, I know, but I really did. I thought I'd
hurt myself because it was like getting kicked in the head, sort of, if
my head had been down low in my tummy. It's hard to explain. It had
felt good though, like a good kick in the head, and that had worried me
even more. When I'd called Darin to ask her about it she'd just
handed the phone to Stacy, saying that was her department. My sister
had just laughed at me and told me to do it just like that every time,
but she was kidding because later she told me other ways to do it that
felt just a good, but different too. Stacy knows a lot about sex. She
just told me to be careful not to break my cherry, because I should
save that for a real man.

"For him?" I'd asked her, thinking she meant it was like I owed a
man a favor or something. We were sitting in my room during one of her
visits back home from college. She and Darin came home once a month or
so, sometimes more.

"No! Bonehead!" She laughed. "For you, but you need a man to
break it right, otherwise you'll always be wondering."

"Really?" I wondered.

"Yep, just ask Darin." Stacy suggested. "She broke hers with her
best friend's hairbrush."

"Huh?" I laughed because it had to be a joke, right?

"I'm not joking." Stacy grinned at me. "She got so excited it
just went *POP* right through her cherry."

"Didn't Lisa get mad?" I asked, still not entirely believing my
sister's story. Lisa was Dare's best friend and had been since the
6th grade.

Stacy laughed like she'd been waiting for me to ask. "Who do you
think was holding the hairbrush?"

"No!" I gasped. "Really?" I knew Darin was different, but I
guess that was the first time I'd really contemplated her sexuality.

"Cross my heart." Stacy told me solemnly, moving her fingers over
her breast.

"How old were they?" I wondered.

"Same as you, munchkin, thirteen." Stacy tousled my hair a little.
"So stay away from hair brushes." She grinned and wagged a finger
in my face. "And girls named Lisa!"

"Uh, okay." I'd replied and life had gone on, but I'd always
been careful with my hymen. I figured Stacy had been serious about
that. It was hard though since my cherry was right there, you know? I
couldn't hardly get the tip if my finger inside before I felt it
stretching, like a little pinch and then I'd stop, cause I didn't
want to break it by accident! That would be even worse than my best
friend using a hairbrush!

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Chapter 2 starts here =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

I turned in my report along with everyone else in my class, handing Mr.
Lawson my assignment folder and watching him closely. I really wanted
to see if he was going to look at me, because I hadn't paid all that
much attention to it before. Sure enough as he walked around the class
his eyes kept drifting over to me.

I'd worn a black skirt that day, just for him, and a tight pink
sweater that really hugged my boobs and left my belly button exposed.
The school had a dress code, so the girls had to wear a skirt or dress
anyway, but this one was sort of shorter than the 1 inch above the knee
it was suppose to be. This was more like mid-thigh, but lots of girls
broke that rule cause we were always growing, you know? And I wasn't
supposed to be showing my belly button either, but I didn't care. As
long as I avoided Ms. Collins I was okay, she was a bitch sometimes,
and she'd make a girl stay after school without a second's thought.
Especially for showing a belly button, it was like she was always
looking to see if she could spot a belly button. I didn't have her
class that day though, so I figured I'd be okay.

I'd made a real mistake not wearing my bra. That sweater felt nice
and warm, but it rubbed my nipples raw! It was like a cat was licking
my skin all day long and driving me crazy. Worst of all though, it made
my nipples hard as little pebbles and they stuck out a little so I was
always trying to cover them up somehow, but that's hard to do all the
time in school. I had a lot of people looking at me that day! Three
boys even asked me out during lunch, which was nice, but I had to say
no since my dad wasn't ever gonna let me date somebody when I was
just turned 14 years old.

I've been asked out like a hundred times I bet since I turned 13 and
finally grew up a little. Lot's of older guys too, high school and
even some college guys, but mostly boys around my age. At first I
didn't know what to say and I was scared by it. Then I started
getting used to the attention and I liked it, especially when I
realized it was the boys who were mostly nervous. I wanted to say yes,
mostly, just because I really wanted to go on a date, but I never did.
At least not until after I'd turned in my report to Mr. Lawson.

He was looking at me all through class and I was careful not to catch
him doing it. I didn't want him to get mad or embarrassed or
anything, I wanted him to look at me and think about me when he was
grading my paper. I kept my arms up, with my chin in one hand or the
other, or sometimes both, covering my breasts and my hard itchy
nipples. But sometimes I put them down too, when I knew Mr. Lawson
would get a good look and see that I wasn't wearing my bra. That pink
sweater wasn't very thick and my nipples are caramel brown and even
darker when they're hard, so I think he could see them, just a
little.

Even if he couldn't see my nipples though, he could definitely see my
panties. That skirt was short, too short for sitting normally at a
desk. I had to be careful and sit straight and cross my legs. And still
I had to pull it down once in awhile, even after all that! In Mr.
Lawson's class I didn't pay so much attention to my skirt. It was
riding high on my long legs, still tanned from the summer that had just
ended, and I didn't always have my legs crossed. A couple times I
uncrossed them and just seemed to forget that Mr. Lawson could look
right up between my thighs and see my panties, which were white as
fresh snow. I was a little moist down there too, but I'm sure Mr.
Lawson couldn't have known that. It was just a little bit, the sort
of slippery greasy feeling I get sometimes when I've been
daydreaming. I like that feeling a lot, actually, and if I get it at
home I mostly go to my room and rub my clit for awhile. Of course I
couldn't do that in school, but I wanted to.

When the bell rang I gathered my books and purse slowly, trying to be
the last one out of the room., but there were 5 or 6 guys even slower
than me for some reason, so they were following me out. I still managed
to give Mr. Lawson a friendly smile though.

"I hope you like my report, Mr. Lawson." I told him.

"I, uh, I'm sure I will, Samantha." He licked his lips and turned
his eyes away, like he was looking for something important all of a
sudden.

I spent the rest of the day talking to boys and hanging with my
friends, who thought I was crazy for dressing like I was. "You're
gonna get raped, probably." Stephanie, my best friend predicted. But
I didn't think it was that bad and I just laughed at her. I did feel
a little self-conscious though, especially when I walked past the table
where the girls I didn't like were sitting.

"What a slut." Someone said, I think it was Katie Sands, she never
liked me, especially after I got prettier than her. I just ignored
their jealous laughter though; I didn't really care what they thought
anyway.

The bad thing was that I was spending so much time trying to cover my
puffy nipples that I forgot all about my little inny belly button.

"Excuse me, Miss Pavageau, may I speak with you for a minute?" It
was Ms. Collins; I'd have recognized that voice anywhere, especially
since she was from London. I thought that must be why she acted so
strange and most of my friends agreed that England must be really
weird. She talked like she was in an old movie or something, like a
Harry Potter movie maybe.

I stood there blushing and looking down at my feet while Ms. Collins
asked me what I thought I was doing walking around school dressed like
I was going to some dance party. She wasn't very old; I mean you'd
expect an old woman to get mad about stuff like that, but not a young
woman of maybe 26 or so. She'd only been teaching a couple years and
the year before she'd just been a substitute!

She was pretty too, I thought, and so did most of the boys in school,
from what I'd heard. She was tall and had black hair, always pinned
up though, and pulled back severely from her pretty face so she looked
sort of stern. She acted like it too. Ms. Collins always wore women's
suits, grey or black usually, conservative and sort of intimidating, to
be honest, with black stockings and shiny black leather shoes. Her
blouses were always white too and the only colors she allowed herself
were blood red fingernails and lipstick, and violet eye shadow, not a
lot of it, just enough to really accent her dark blue eyes.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Collins." I said, trying to sound contrite and it
wasn't too hard to do. She frightened me a little and always made me
feel a little humiliated somehow.

"A girl like you should be properly spanked." Ms. Collins had her
hands on her hips and I knew she was staring at me, but I didn't dare
look at her face.

"Yes, Ms. Collins." I replied softly, since she seemed to be
waiting for me to say something.

"What class are you going to?" She demanded.

"Uh, Mrs. Hogan's, um, art class." I sort of looked around the
hallway under my brows and saw other kids looking at me and hurrying to
their classes before the bell rang.

"After your art class you come straight to my room. Do you understand
me young lady?" Ms. Collins' tone didn't leave me much choice.

I swallowed hard. "Yes, Ma'am."

"Very good." Ms. Collins dismissed me finally. "Run along now or
you'll be in even more trouble."

I nodded quickly and practically sprinted to my art class, slipping
inside just as the bell rang. Mrs. Hogan didn't even notice. She was
old, almost ready to retire, and was more like a grandmother than a
teacher. I took my seat and spent the next hour dreading my appointment
with Ms. Collins.

I'd only had detention with Ms. Collins once before and that had been
with 3 other girls for talking too much during class. She'd had us
working on decorating her classroom, putting up stuff on the bulletin
boards and that sort of thing. We couldn't talk while we did it,
because she was sitting at her desk working, but it wasn't hard or
anything. I wondered what she'd have me doing today; I hoped it was
quick whatever it was. I hated having to stick around school in the
afternoons.

"Miss Pavageau, how nice to see you again." Ms. Collins was
standing at the door, holding it open and her voice was a little
sarcastic, I thought.

"Uh, hi." I said, slipping past her.

"A young lady in your position doesn't say 'hi'..." Ms.
Collins corrected me, making it sound like a bad word. "She says
hello, and greets her hostess by name."

"Hello, Ms. Collins." I said quietly, blushing lightly without
really knowing why.

"Better." The woman said, closing the door finally and turning the
bolt with a loud click. I turned a little at that, surprised that
she'd lock the door. "Now, whatever shall we do with you, Miss
Pavageau?"

Ms. Collins was walking to her desk and her high heels made a clicking
sound on the hard tiled floor. I wasn't sure what I was supposed to
be doing so I just stood there, holding my books with my purse over my
shoulder, trying to hide my aching nipples and my offending belly
button.

She stopped close to her desk, a dozen feet away, turning and standing
there with her hands on her hips, her body bent just slightly so her
left hip stuck out a little more than the right and she tapped it
lightly with her long red fingernails.

"Set your things down and come over here, my dear." Ms. Collins
pointed to a spot on the floor in front of her. "Just there
please."

I put my books and my purse on one of the empty desks and moved to
stand where the woman wanted me. I felt a little defenseless without
anything to clutch to my body, so I crossed my arms briefly, but
quickly realized Ms. Collins didn't approve of that. Bad posture or
something, I thought to myself, hoping I wouldn't smile. Sometimes
when I was in trouble I got the giggles for some reason.

"You really don't know what to do with yourself, do you?" Ms.
Collins almost smiled, but not quite. She clucked her tongue softly.
"So much potential too." She sounded like she was talking more to
herself than to me, so I didn't say anything. "Put your hands
behind your back, Miss Pavageau. Higher, back straight, elbows out
please..." She commanded and I wondered if she'd been in the army
or something. "More...that's it, yes...like that, very
good...shoulders my dear..."

It took a couple minutes but I soon had my legs spread shoulder width,
with my hands flat against the small of my back, which was arched
slightly, so that my breasts were pushed outward as if I were showing
them off. It was only slightly uncomfortable, but I hoped I wouldn't
be doing this for an hour! Ms. Collins pushed and pulled me gently,
lifting my elbows slightly, pulling back on my shoulders just a little,
it was sort of nice in a way that I'm not sure I can explain. It was
like she cared about the smallest detail, that how I stood there was
somehow important to her. I don't think I'd ever experienced that
much attention from anyone before. It made me feel...special.

"Don't look down." I felt Ms. Collins' fingers under my chin,
tilting my head up. "Eye's straight, stare at the wall behind me,
Girl. You will only look at me if you are speaking to me and you will
only speak to me if I ask you a question. Do you understand?"

I glanced at her and licked my lips. "Yes Ms. Collins."

"Very good, you're learning. This afternoon, in this room, I will
address you as Girl. From now on you will address me as Mistress."
Ms. Collins was walking around me slowly. "Do you understand me,
Girl?"

"Yes, uh, Mistress." I answered not sure if I was supposed to turn
my head and look at her or not. I decided I better not.

"Yes." Ms. Collins said softly. "I believe you." It seemed like
a strange thing for her to say. "Now, I understand why you dress like
that, Girl. You want to be a proper continental slut, but we really
can't have that here, can we?"

She was standing in front of me again and I looked into her eyes for
just a second. They were so dark I thought they might be black. "N-No
Mistress." I wasn't sure what a proper continental slut was, but it
didn't sound good.

"So we need to find a suitable punishment." Ms. Collins was smiling
and I quickly focused my eyes on the far wall. "Where I come from a
slut like you would receive a good caning I should think."

Ms. Collins moved behind her desk and I heard a drawer open and a
moment later she was holding something that didn't look like much of
a cane in front of my face. It was more like a long thin piece of
bamboo, maybe two and a half feet long, I thought. It had a leather
loop attached to one end, perhaps 8 or 9 inches long altogether.

"This was a gift from my old headmaster in London. Do you like it,
Girl?" Ms. Collins held it steady for a second, but didn't give me
time to answer. "I've spent many hours using this cane on bad
little girls like you."

I felt my heart pounding a little in my chest and there was a knot
growing in my tummy as I listened to what Ms. Collins was saying. I
hadn't been spanked in years and never with a stick! She couldn't
be serious, I decided, she was just trying to frighten me. But deep
down inside she was succeeding, and beneath that I felt something else,
indistinct for the moment, but growing stronger all the same.

"Have you ever seen a bottom properly turned with a cane, Girl?"
Ms. Collins asked and continued on. "Like a whip, except better. Just
the right amount of flexibility, the correct weight and balance, it
will leave you exactly as I want you, no more and certainly no less."
She chuckled gently. "Thighs too, my darling, a small taste may be
for the best."

I didn't really understand what she meant, but I understood the
intention as she pushed the cane between my spread legs, rubbing it up
the inside of my right thigh slowly. Ms. Collins lifted my skirt with
it as she went and my skin tingled and I felt myself flushing hot when
I felt the hard shaft pressing to my sex. She pushed and pulled
slightly, working the bamboo back and forth along my covered slit. I
had goose bumps on my arms and I felt suddenly humiliated by what she
was doing.

"P-Please..." I whispered.

"Excuse me?" Ms. Collins stepped closer and lifted the cane so it
actually split the lips of my vagina slightly, wedging the cotton of my
panties between my moist folds. "I don't believe I gave you
permission to speak, did I?"

"No, Mistress." I swallowed and closed my eyes. She was sliding the
cane back and forth and it felt good for some reason, although I wished
it didn't. I was trembling slightly and my shoulders had begun to
ache. My nipples were rubbing themselves raw on my sweater with every
little breath I took. It was all threatening to overwhelm me.

"No." Ms. Collins echoed. "We'll have to punish you for that
now, won't we?"

"Y-Yes Mistress." I said weakly.

"Open your eyes!" She ordered. "Look at me." I stared into her
dark eyes and suddenly felt a searing flash of pain between my legs, on
my tender pussy, as she lowered her cane and brought it back up hard
across my sex.

"Ahhh...!!" I gasped loudly, bending my knees and bringing my hands
down as if I might protect myself somehow. It was like there was a fire
down there, burning deep and it only slowly faded to a dull throbbing
sensation.

"Hands..." Ms. Collin's tapped my wrists which were now pressed
between my thighs. "Get your hands back, Girl, or you'll get
another lick."

I had tears at the corners of my eyes and I reluctantly resumed my
position, breathing hard and trying not to cry in front of the woman.

"Good." Ms. Collins nodded approvingly. "That wasn't so bad,
was it? Just a little kiss, that's all, you won't even remember it
tomorrow." She reached down with her left hand, pressing her fingers
to my panties, low so she could feel my slit. "Why, you're all wet,
my dear!"

She giggled and my face burned with embarrassment. A tiny sob escaped
my throat and my tears were suddenly rolling down my hot cheeks. I was
wet, I knew and it was from the things she'd been saying to me, the
things she'd been doing. When she'd whipped my pussy with her cane
it had brought something more than just pain with it, there was
undeniable pleasure there as well. Somewhere inside me I'd actually
enjoyed that new experience and even longed for more, although I was
terrified to admit it, even to myself.

"Let's just take these knickers off, shall we, Girl?" Ms. Collins
asked and it took me a moment to realize what she'd said. Knickers
was a funny word, but I wasn't going to laugh.

"Y-Yes Mistress." I whispered, feeling both frightened and excited
at the idea of taking off my panties for her.

"Well, do it then. Quickly." Ms. Collins demanded and watched as I
reached under my skirt and slowly lowered my panties, bending slightly
until I could step out of them. I held them up for her with a thrilling
sense of shame that confused me.

"Very good." Ms. Collins took them from me and inspected them for a
second before looking at me. "Open your mouth, Girl."

I wasn't sure what she wanted until I opened my mouth obediently and
she pushed my own panties between my lips, wadding them into a ball as
she did so, until my mouth was full with them. I should have done
something then, refused the woman somehow, picked up my things and
left, but I didn't. I wasn't merely afraid to move, I didn't want
to. She had taken control of me somehow, like I was hypnotized or
something, under a spell maybe.

"Put your hands on my desk, Girl. Put your feet back, spread your
legs, wider...wider...there you go..." Ms. Collins had me spread as
if for a police search, tapping my thighs with her cane until I was
bent over with my legs pulled so wide that my skirt had risen in the
back far enough that I was certain Ms. Collins could see my bare butt.

My heart was pounding and I had to concentrate in order to breathe. I
was excited and scared and confused all at the same time. It seemed as
if every hair on my body were standing on end, like there was
electricity in the air and the static was tingling across my flushed
skin. I felt humiliated for letting the woman do this to me. No one had
ever seen my sex before, let alone touched me the way she had. When I
felt her fingernails dragging along the back of my left thigh I moaned
and my body shivered beneath her.

"Time for your spanking, my dear." Ms. Collins was saying.
"I'll let you decide, 5 strokes with my cane?" She lifted my
skirt, flipping it up onto the small of my back and exposing my ass
completely, and below that my pussy. "Or ten with my bare hand,
hmmm?"

I tried to speak through the gag in my mouth but it was impossible to
say anything she would understand.

"What's that, Girl?" Ms. Collins leaned closer, massaging my
smooth round butt with her hand. "The cane you say?"

"Mmmpphhh..." I shook my head, hoping she'd understand that I
didn't want her to use the cane at all.

"I see." Ms. Collins chuckled and slid her hand down to feel the
humid warmth of my sex. She cupped my vulva in her hand, squeezing my
pussy and rubbing her fingers over my small clit which had come to
burning life.

"Ten strokes with the cane it is then." She continued massaging my
cunt for a moment, ignoring my muffled protests that she'd said only
five before. "Are you ready, Girl?"

Ready or not, Ms. Collins stepped back and a moment later I felt the
first painful sing of her cane on my bare ass. It was a white hot flash
of fire that quickly spread through my body and I screamed into the
gag. Ms. Collins delivered the blows quickly, counting aloud and each
one was distinct and severe and brought me closer to total collapse. My
knees were shaking and my body shuddered with each lightning stroke.

"Shhhh..." Ms. Collins was rubbing my ass tenderly with both hands,
standing behind me as I half lay on her desk, breathing heavily through
my nose. "You're all done for today, Girl. All done..." Her voice
was soothing and so were her hands, but I could sense the welts that
were already rising from the whipping she'd given me.

Ms. Collins removed my panties from my mouth, wet with spit, and I drew
cool air deeply into my heaving lungs. My heart was still beating
wildly in my chest and my face was wet from crying. I felt exhausted
and I stood weakly as Ms. Collins turned me slowly to face her.

"You did very well, Girl." She was smiling and her tone was
pleasant, almost friendly. "One more thing you must learn and we'll
be finished for today."

"Yes Mistress?" I breathed, not knowing what she else she could
want from me.

"Kneel down." Ms. Collins told me, gently but firmly, and she
waited until I had done as she said, kneeling painfully on the floor in
front of her. "Now kiss my feet and thank me for taking you as my
slave."

I looked up at her not understanding at all. I was her slave? What did
that mean, I wondered? I wanted to ask her, but I sensed she'd have
little patience for questions right then, and I had the small fear that
it would almost certainly earn me another lick of her cane across my
pussy. I kissed the black leather toes of her shoes carefully, holding
my lips to each of them for 2 or 3 seconds and then looked up at her.

"Thank you, Mistress." I licked my lips and blinked back the tears
forming in my eyes. "For taking me as your, uh, slave." I wondered
if the words really meant anything and I decided they did, but I
wasn't sure what it was exactly. I felt like I'd just made a
promise of some sort that Ms. Collins would make certain I kept.

"You're welcome, Girl." She smiled softly. "Now you may
leave."

end chap 1&2
rache696@yahoo.com

I decided to go ahead and combine the first two chapters into one post,
largely because chapter 1 is mostly talk and chapter 2 has all the
action. I kind of like to put a little bite with my bark whenever
possible. Chapter 3 will be made available at the earliest possible
opportunity. My sincere apologies for the delay, but these things
happen. I'm just glad Sam's hymen didn't break with that thwack
she took on her sex. It was awfully tempting. -rr

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