“Jan, I’m home.”

“I’m in the kitchen, sir.”

“‘Sir’? Am I finally going to get the respect I deserve? ... A blouse and a plaid skirt ... and pigtails. What have we here, a schoolgirl? Anyway, come here and give me a kiss.”

“Shan’t!”

“‘Shan’t’? A British schoolgirl? And a sassy one, to boot. Come here! Now!”

“Shan’t ... Owww!”

“Oh yes, you shall. Pigtails are as useful as reins. Now, let’s get you over to the table ... Bend over.”

“No. Ow!”

“Now that you’ve nicely bent over ... say, that grip on your arm doesn’t hurt, does it?”

“Yes, it hurts.”

“‘Yes, it hurts’ who?”

“Yes, it hurts, sir.”

“That’s nice. It’s supposed to hurt. Now that you’ve nicely bent over. let’s just clear the field ... No panties.”

“Knickers.”

“That’s right. Although you’re wearing neither panties nor knickers. So, it’s equally correct to say that you lack the one as that you lack the other. Anyway, do you know what happens to sassy British schoolgirls who go out without their knickers?”

“The schoolmaster lets them off their spanking ‘cause he likes the view?”

“Wrong answer. British schoolmasters are incorruptible. (Besides most of them are queer as a three-pound note.) The sassy schoolgirl gets extra swats for being indecent. Count!”

“One ... two ... three ... Ow! Four.”

“You’re not the only one that hurt. You have more padding on your butt than I have on my palm. Anyway.”

“Five ... six ... seven ... Ouch!”

“More fingers, less palm. Let’s try that again.”

“Ow, nine.”

“Can’t be nine. We didn’t have eight.”

“You’re really getting into this! Eight ... nine ... ouch! Ten!”

“Now, is my schoolgirl in pigtails sorry that she was saucy?”

“Yes! I’m very sorry, sir. Now, may I stand up?”

“No! Now, you get your licking for dressing indecently. And, speaking of indecent, your costume isn’t your only indecency. Your little, underage, pre-adolescent, cunny is literally dripping.”

“Ooh. Do that again.”

“Here. Although, pleasant as this feels, incorruptible British schoolmasters would never rub their students like this.”

“Yesss! Thanks. And the incorruptible schoolmaster doesn’t have a hardon?”

“Not one that a decent young schoolgirl would notice.”

“Says you. When I was a schoolgirl, we noticed lots of hardons.”

“Not that a decent British schoolgirl would comment on. American schoolgirls’ giggles to the contrary notwithstanding. Besides, I was speaking of decent girls.”

“Ouch! That was sneaky. Eleven.”

“Say ‘one,’ rather. We’re beginning another punishment. For your forgoing your knickers”

“One ... two ... three ... four ... Ouch! Five.”

“Now, aren’t you sorry you forgot your knickers?”

“Really sorry! Dave, can’t we drop the game? I need you now!”

“All right. We don’t want to let all that moisture go to waste. Yes, darling.”

“Oh, that’s better. Some of those really hurt, you know.”

“They must have. I can feel heat from your butt on my leg. The rest is warm, too. Delightful.”

“You feel good, too. Yes! Like that; just like that.”

“Y’know, you do things to this blouse that real schoolgirls don’t. These handles are much better than the pigtails.”

“Your hands feel better on them, too. But move, damn you.”

“‘Damn you, sir.’ The game isn’t over yet”

“Please move, sir. I’m hot. Are you continuing my punishment?”

“Yes. Take this ... and this ... and this!”

“Yessss! Stab me. Drive yourself into me.”

“Skirt’s a real problem ... Now. Do you feel me?”

“There and inside. Yes, Dave ... Yes!”

“Oh, my darling. Oh, sweet!”

...

“Oh, Dave ... Oh ... Oh ... Ahhhh!”

“Yes, dear ... Uh ... Ugh!”

...

“I do love you, but I’m holding us both up this way.”

“Enjoy your game? Let me give you some room ... You can stand up now.”

“Not quite yet. Get me some TP, won’t you.”

...

“Here.”

“Thanks. And you talk about my moisture.”

“Call it a tribute. Is that dinner that I’ve been smelling?”

“Great thing about pot roast. You can’t really overcook it.”