If you are underage or offended by such material, or if viewing this file is illegal in your locality, then leave, close or delete this file-story now.
This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to persons living, dead or otherwise is purely coincidental. The ideas and thoughts that follow are pure fantasies. In real life, at the very least they would be unpleasant and probably illegal. Fantasies are like that; daydreams where we can contemplate and imagine the sensations without suffering or inflicting the pain, despair or humiliation.
The present day
"You're back with us now then, Mary?"
The scraping of the chairs and the general hubbub and laughter woke me and to my horror I realised that I'd slept through nearly the whole of Mr. Thornton's English lesson. Several students grinned and made remarks as they left and a little bewildered, I gathered my books. "I'm sorry Sir," I started to apologise as Mr. Thornton came over and asked, "Are you okay Mary? It's not like you, not to be alert in my lessons."
"Sorry Sir, I didn't sleep well last night. Cramps."
I nodded, yes they were part of the problem but fortunately I didn't have to explain the dreams that kept me awake as well.
"I'm sorry. But I'm glad I'm a man and don't have that problem each month. Perhaps you could see me after school today and I'll quickly go through the homework with you unless one of the others will. You're one of the better students and I doubt you'll wish to drop marks by not doing the work. It's only reading and commenting on a page in your Shakespeare book."
I thanked him, apologised again, and promised to see him at the end of the day. I certainly wouldn't miss seeing the man I had an overwhelming crush on.
Over lunch break and sitting alone to eat my sandwiches, I thought back to the previous night and the dreams I had; well not really dreams because I was awake, but vivid sexual imaginings of my relationship with Mr. Thornton - Anthony Thornton, Tony. Like some of the other fourteen-year-old girls in the class, I loved the handsome young teacher who'd joined the staff at the beginning of the term, straight from college. Being shy and less well developed in the tit department, I had to produce the best work and try to be the most helpful, for him to notice me. The strategy worked and often I stayed for a short while at the end of the lessons to put books away and I'm sure he appreciated my help. He never made a move on me though, and always treated me correctly and the nearest sexual contact came when he dropped a book from a pile he reached to place on the top shelf in the store cupboard. I picked it up from his feet and on standing again, found my face inches away from his crotch and could faintly see the outline of his prick. My mind stored that memory and recalled it many times.
Indirectly my elder brother Michael contributed to my sexual fantasies. He's six years older and left for university at the beginning of term taking with him a new MacBook laptop computer and leaving behind his 20" iMac, a far superior machine to my aging G4. I asked mother if I could have it and from the argument I overheard when she phoned him, I gathered he wasn't too happy with the idea. "Your father and I paid for that computer Michael and for the new one you have and I think you are being a little selfish to want both when Mary could make good use of it and it will save us buying her a new one." The argument went on for a while but eventually he must have agreed. I quickly found out the cause of his reluctance; he had a lot of BDSM porn stored on it. My guess is that he assumed he had password protected the files, and he had, but unfortunately for him, he only locked the security on his keychain access with his general password which I knew and from his keychain I could find all his other security passwords and change them to ones of my own. Unlike my G4, his computer had no Nanny Watch programme so I now had full Internet access including all the sites he'd bookmarked without being banned from the adult ones. Michael looked at me strangely when he came home two weekends later to collect more of his stuff and asked to use the computer to check his emails but I gave him a smug look in return because I guessed he'd unsuccessfully tried to access his porn files and realised that as I'd encrypted them, I must have seen them. He never said anything to me or to mother.
Dad often works abroad and mother doesn't get home until 5:30 and each school day during the hour-and-a-half I have at home to myself, I went through the videos and stories and learned more about sex than I did from sex-ed at school. Whilst watching and reading I masturbated and imagined myself in the role of the victim being tied up, beaten and raped. They were the genre of videos and stories that aroused me most; the 'FemDom' and those that showed women being whipped or caned until they bled, held little interest for me. I deleted them and only kept the sexually submissive/slavery ones and often at night imagined myself in the role of a slave. In real life I know I would fight against a life of suppression but fantasy is a different thing all together and played a large part in my dreams. Had it not been for the porn files exciting my imagination, my imaginary love life with Tony (in my mind I used his first name) would certainly have been a 'vanilla' one.
My heavy flow period accompanied by stomach cramps, wasn't a figment of my imagination and, although a couple of paracetamol calmed the pain, the bulky sanitary pad concentrated my feelings on that area and my thoughts turned to the forthcoming lesson with heartthrob Tony and to those stories where nudity and punishment were again used in schools and girls of my age were available for fucking. I suppose you could argue that pornography corrupted my mind but even at fourteen I knew to discriminate between reality and fantasy and it opened my mind to a variety solo sexual pleasures, pleasures my shyness precluded me from sharing with others.
"Mary Grimwade come to my desk now!" I knew the reason for the angry demand and stumbled to the front, the eyes of the class on me. "What is the meaning of this poor excuse for an essay? I never expected such slovenly work from you and I'm certain you could have done far better had you put your mind to it."
"I forgot it Sir and had to do it before school today and then mother had other chores for me."
"Don't blame your mother for your own faults girl. Your forgetfulness is perhaps something a little reminder on your backside will help to cure. Just a hand spanking this time but if that doesn't work, we'll see if a dose of the strap does. Remove your skirt and knickers and bend over the desk and let the your classmates see you suffer." I knew the procedure from having watched others receive their punishment and knew this time I would not only have a very sore arse, but everyone would see my virgin cunt and arsehole because he'd make me spread my legs very wide. Blushing, I did as he requested and waited while he donned the stiff leather punishment glove. Several teachers complained of sore hands after chastising students, and most now wore a glove to protect themselves but it meant more pain for the recipients because the teacher could hit harder and carry on for longer.
"Yeeoooww!" I yelled at the top of my voice. Wanting to make sure he understood how much he hurt me, I cried out from the first smack, a hard one to my right buttock and I knew without looking in a mirror, it would show a red hand print. Laughter from the class penetrated to my brain and I guessed they were enjoying my punishment and probably thought I deserved my comeuppance. "Do any of the boys have a hard-on like they do when some of the more attractive girls are spanked?" I wondered. A second smack to my left cheek, caused me to yell again, but that didn't deter him from continuing to paste my bum with hard blows and placing some directly on my cunt, until I sobbed hysterically.
"That will teach the snooty bitch. You gave her thirty-four Sir and warmed her arse real good," one of the other girls whom I knew fancied him, sidled up and felt the heat radiating from my tormented bottom. Sir did nothing to stop her and I wondered if she gave herself to him after school time.
"Sit down, no, don't put your skirt back on, leave your stuff where it is for now. Report to my office at end of school today for an hour's detention." As I stood up I noticed the bulge in his trousers and inwardly smiled that at least I had aroused him. I had to turn and face the class so they all saw my sparse pubic hair but with tears streaming down my face, I didn't care and hardly noticed when a boy thrust his hands between my thighs and tried to insert a finger in my cunt. Gently I lowered my tender arse on the chair and, after a sharp rebuke from Sir, quietened my crying to a low sob and tried to pay attention to his lesson.
Further humiliation followed when I collected my skirt and knickers at the end of the lesson and wasn't allowed to put them on in the room. I dashed to the unisex toilet as fast as my sore arse would let me, only to find a number of the boys and girls from the class waiting to feel and finger me. "I don't know why you made all that fuss over a hand spanking," one of the boys remarked, "You will have something to cry about when you feel the strap or worse, the cane, raise welts across both cheeks at once. That will give you cause to yell." My fear of being raped there receded when a woman teacher entered and ordered us to leave. She looked closely at my bum and asked which teacher had smacked me.
.... There is more of this story ...