1st Period History

As tempted as she was, Abbi resisted the urge to run to her dorm room to change her offending panties. Any staff encounter between the Betty Page Building and the Anais Nin Dormitory without a hall pass would surely mean more punishment for her chastened bottom. Seeking out the Vice Principal for permission was out of the question too. Embarrassing.

Even though her trip to the nurse’s office took less than a half an hour, homeroom was empty, and the students had moved on to other classrooms for their first official period. Ms. Buchanan was still at her desk, reviewing papers.

Abbi thought when the illusion would merge with reality, when she forgot she was just one participant among many. It still felt like playtime, not that far removed from the sexy Skype sessions with her online Daddy. Ms. Buchanan seemed fully immersed and so had Nurse Polk. Abbi felt a pang of jealousy when she saw her there, marking up a planned lecture.

“Oh, Miss Abbi,” Ms. Buchanan exclaimed. “I realized after you left that I should have given you your classroom assignments for today.”

“It’s ok Ms. Buchanan,” Abbi demurred. She felt reluctant to engage. The illusion of being a schoolgirl hadn’t yet become real, but the punishment for her first infraction was.

“The Sophomores were sent to room 205, just down the hall, for History class. I can take you over there if you like.”

“Um, no Ms. Buchanan,” Abbi said. “It’s just a couple of doors down, I’m sure I can find it.”

“Ok, just don’t be afraid to ask for help,” Ms. Buchanan flashed a matronly smile. “That’s what we’re here for.”

“Yes, Ms. Buchanan,” Abbi returned the smile and felt herself relax a bit.

Abbi left the homeroom and found the door to room 205 quickly. She hesitated before entering though. She felt an absurd urge to knock, unsure of how her late entry would be taken by the teacher.

I’m gonna drive myself crazy, Abbi wondered, if I worry over every little thing I do could get me into trouble.

Abbi entered a classroom that was a vivid memory of a time she never experienced, at a college she never attended. Unlike the generic Homeroom, Room 205 was decked out with considerable detail. The personality of the history teacher shone through the decorations. From the country flags to the maps and pictures of world leaders, the hand cut letters in bright construction paper above the whiteboard, books piled on a heavy wooden desk, even a handmade sign next to the clock proclaiming “A Watched Clock Never Ticks”, it all screamed tenured history teacher.

Ms. Ford looked up in surprise from behind her lectern. Just behind her in big friendly letters on the whiteboard was her name and the class title “The History of the Kama Sutra”.

“Ah, Miss Abbi,” she said. “There you are.”

“Nurse Polk needed me in her office, for a, you know,” Abbi shut that admission down quick. Her face flushed again with the knowledge that she almost told everyone what happened in the Nurse’s Office.

“Understood. Please take a seat.”

Abbi moved to the only remaining desk, front and center. She knew all her sophomore classmates were looking at her, but she managed the trip without making eye contact. Abbi slung her backpack in the wire tray under the red plastic seat and sat.

Ms. Ford resumed her lecture. She was not tall, but her presence filled the room. She was the most striking woman Abbi had seen in a long time. The other girls in her dorm were cute, young, and girlish. Kamilla was especially gorgeous to her, but Ms. Ford was a capital-W Woman. Her height was the only thing average about her. Her bust and hips strained so hard at the fabric of her black pinstriped pantsuit, Abbi believed if she sneezed or laughed too hard, Ms. Ford would be naked in an explosion of fabric. Her fiery red hair was pulled back in a severe bun (the hairstyle of choice for all the female staff of the Academy, it seemed) and her delicate highlander features were highlighted by a small amount of expertly applied makeup.

It was hard to judge her age, but Abbi guessed Ms. Ford was maybe 40. Older people were all the time more attractive to Abbi, but Ms. Ford had her attention in a way that she had never experienced before.

Enchanted.

It took a little while for the content of Ms. Ford’s lecture to penetrate Abbi’s enchantment.

“…It’s so much more than a sex book, as you’ll find. The Kama Sutra has seven chapters filled with advice for a fulfilling love life, with sexual congress being just one aspect. Most of it would seem antiquated or backward to you reading it now, but it’s an important cultural cornerstone.”

Abbi finally looked around. The other students also sat enthralled. Kamilla sat just to Abbi’s right, and her slack expression and dilated pupils would have made her inner state obvious if anyone cared to look away from Ms. Ford.

“Does anyone know how the Western World came to know about the Kama Sutra?” Ms. Ford asked.

The boy to Abbi’s left raised his hand.

“Yes, Mr. Kyle.”

“Didn’t Richard Burton translate it and give it to his friends in Britain?”

“Richard Burton was an actor married to Liz Taylor,” Ariel interrupted. “Dummy,” she added.

“Miss Ariel, we don’t call our classmates names,” Ms. Ford admonished. “And raise your hand before talking.”

“Yes Ms. Ford,” Ariel responded, a blush already reddening her cheeks.

“Mr. Kyle is right, actually. Sir Richard Burton was a rather notorious British explorer in the 19th century who translated several works beside the Kama Sutra, 1001 Arabian Nights and the Perfumed Garden, for example. Even though Burton’s translation changed the meaning of the Kama Sutra in ways he felt would read easier to his staid Victorian audience, it was banned from printing for decades. This of course meant just about everyone read it anyway.”

The class laughed at this observation. Ms. Ford voice was authoritative but soothing, and Abbi found herself lost in the lecture and unable to look away.

After speaking on the subject for a little while longer, Ms. Ford took out a tablet from which she commanded a screen to descend from the ceiling in front of the whiteboard on one side and a projector from the other.

“Now students, before I present this slide show, I expect you to act like the mature young men and women that you are. These images may be titillating, but I would hope you treat this with the same respect you would a trip to an art museum.”

Someone muttered “Huh, titillating,” and there were a few giggles. This was sure to go well.

The lights went out and blackout curtains rolled down in front of the high frosted windows. She showed slide after slide of sex positions, starting with depictions in worn old sculptures and illustrations, some textbook vector drawings. Abbi became stimulated again, and she was sure she wasn’t alone. A few murmurs were heard, but the slideshow had their full attention.

Ms. Ford offered no commentary, only sat at her desk watching her students carefully.

Then came more modern still images, some artfully staged with sleek models, others far cruder, clippings from old porno mags and screencaps from PornTube.

“Ms. Ford? What are the people doing in these pictures?” asked Blair.

“Weren’t you listening earlier, Miss Blair? These images are depicting sexual intercourse.”

“Like, making babies?”

Everyone laughed, but Ms. Ford looked stern.

“Quiet, please,” she admonished. “Yes, Miss Blair, making babies.”

The final few images were hentai, a corner of the web Abbi had long been aware of. The images had cycled back to the beginning when Ms. Ford suggested something extraordinary.

“Would some of you like to come up front and attempt some of these positions?”

Abbi’s jaw dropped a little. Moments before entering Ms. Ford’s class she was wondering if she would ever be as immersed as the staff seemed to be. Not long into the lecture she forgot herself and her circumstances and became immersed in Ms. Ford’s expert navigation of a fascinating subject. Now she was jolted out of that again by this most curious request.

“Come on, kiddos,” she cajoled. “No one? Let’s get a couple of you up here, try an easy one.”

Abbi looked around, uncertain as anyone. Except for Kamilla.

Kamilla raised her hand and stood confidently when Ms. Ford nodded.

“Anyone want to try Deep Lotus with Miss Kamilla here?” Ms. Ford searched for interested parties. Everyone seemed to shrink in the dark, unable to match Kamilla’s boldness. “We’re not having sex here; we’re just trying out positions.”

Silence. In the manga version of this moment the ellipsis went on for several panels.

…

“Anyone?”

…

“None of your fellow students has the courage, so I will be your partner,” Ms. Ford said with a mischievous smile. “I hope that’s ok with you.”

Kamilla bounced to the front of the classroom with a girlish squeak.

“I want to try a harder one, like Wheelbarrow or Flirty Flamingo.”

“That’s the spirit!” Ms. Ford said triumphantly. “Bend over and touch your toes.”

Kamilla complied, bending forward. Ms. Ford came up behind her, grabbing Kamilla’s hips.

“Make sure your hands are firmly on the floor,” she continued. “Lift your right leg slowly. I will help you.”

Ms. Ford slid her hand down Kamilla’s leg, helping her raise it.

“Can you hook it around my hips?” she asked. “It will give you more balance and help me thrust.”

Kamilla posed, holding and being held by Ms. Ford in this unlikely gymnastic position, poised and under sensual control.

“See class?” Ms. Ford asked. “Our fearless friend here has it exactly right.” Ms. Ford began to move her hips, just little bumps at first, then rocking them both through a few rhythmic thrusts. Kamilla moaned theatrically; Ms. Ford smile hardened a little.

“Flirty Flamingo can become the Wheelbarrow by carefully bending down a little and then bringing the other leg up with you.” Ms. Ford demonstrated. The image of them in the dark, lit only by the light from projected smut cycling on the screen, teacher in professional company dress, and student in modest but somehow still revealing college uniform in this absurd position made Abbi laugh. Her body felt differently though. The wondered of getting into some equally strange position with either Ms. Ford or Kamilla or one of the Sophomore boys made her rewet her cooling panties. She felt a fresh rush of moisture there, a comical sploosh of extreme arousal.

Ms. Ford rocked Kamilla with a few more gentle thrusts before carefully letting her legs down. Kamilla stood, unable to disengage from Ms. Ford proximity. Ms. Ford held her there for a moment with a warm embrace from behind and kiss on the cheek. Abbi could almost feel the heat coming from them, a wake of sexual tension washed over her as Kamilla retook her seat.

“Who’s next?” Ms. Ford asked. A bunch of hands shot up. Abbi’s seemed to raise on its own, a tangible desire to hold and feel Ms. Ford’s body taking over.

“Mr. Martin and Miss Blair.”

“I’m only allowed to do this kind of thing with my Mommy, Ms. Ford,” Blair interjected.

“Come Miss Blair, Mr. Martin won’t hurt you. Just a bit of fun. Hands on learning!”

Blair shook her head.

“Your Mommy already signed the permission slip for this, ok?”

“Oh-kaaay,” she relented without much more of a fight.

“You can call me Marty,” the boy said as he sat on the floor next to Ms. Ford’s lectern. Marty was short but had a charming smile and boyish European features. Blair towered over him.

Ms. Ford brought a different position onto the display, something called Patty Cake. Marty laid back with a smile while Blair examined the vector drawing. She straddled him, reverse cowgirl, and started to lay forward on his legs. Marty sat up.

“If you grab her arms and lift her up a little, you will be able to penetrate her deeply,” Ms. Ford offered.

“Sorry about my hard-on, Miss Blair,” Marty said sheepishly. Blair simply turned her head to rest it on his shins and offered up her arms.

“It’s perfectly natural, Mr. Martin,” Ms. Ford interjected. Marty and Blair grasped each other’s arms in a life-saving grip. He tried pulling Blair back a few times, but it was clear the position wasn’t working for them.

“This is really awkward, Ms. Ford,” Marty said.

“The position or your erection, Mr. Martin?”

“Both,” Blair and Marty replied in unison.

“You two may return to your seats, then.”

Blair helped Marty to his feet but rebuffed his attempted hug. They returned to their desks with a sigh.

“How about Miss Ariel and Mr. Kyle?”

Kyle was tall and muscular, black hair and K-pop-quality good looks complimented Ariel’s blonde and petite bustiness nicely. Ms. Ford offered the edge of her desk for them to try several positions. Ariel ended up sitting facing Kyle, legs up on his shoulders as he grasped her hips, and they dry humped there for an uncomfortable length of time.

“That’s enough, you two,” Ms. Ford finally interrupted. They both returned to their seats, filled with frustration at the coitus interruptus.

“I’m sorry for calling you a dummy, Kyle,” Ariel stage whispered.

“It’s all good Miss Ariel,” he winked back.

“Joel and Daniel,” Ms. Ford proclaimed. “You don’t have any objection to trying Sleighride or Fortune Cookie together?”

The looked at each other across the dark room.

“Fortune Cookie sounds fun,” Daniel smirked.

The boys entwined themselves into a complicated knot on the floor that made it difficult to see who was supposed to be penetrating who. Joel looked mildly embarrassed while Daniel looked enthusiastic as they ground against each other.

“Fuck that’s hot,” Ariel swooned.

“Miss Ariel,” Ms. Ford commanded. “I’m not going to warn you again about your language.”

“Sorry Ms. Ford,” Ariel squeaked.

“Alright boys, that’s enough. I think we have time for one more couple. Miss Abbi? Everyone else has gone, so you get to pick.”

Abbi stood and looked around the darkened classroom, knowing that she really wanted Ms. Ford but was afraid to ask.

Before she could, Kamilla was already up and leading her forward.

“Can I borrow your chair, Ms. Ford?” Kamilla pointed toward a severe, high-backed wood chair sitting by itself next to the wall. Abbi stood in the projector’s light alone, with her back to the class. While Kamilla retrieved the chair.

“Nothing too complicated, Miss Kamilla,” Ms. Ford offered. “Miss Abbi looks a little overwhelmed, and it’s only the first day.”

Abbi turned toward the class smiling faintly, a little glassy eyed. Kamilla gave her a friendly push into the chair and immediately straddled her lap. Kamilla pulled Abbi to her chest and used her biceps to squeeze her tits against Abbi’s face.

“Relax girl,” Kamilla whispered. “Let’s have a little fun.” Kamilla grabbed Abbi’s hands and guided them back to her ass, rocking against her for a moment.

Kamilla was impatient though and turned around, rubbing her ass against Abbi’s lap.

“Oh yeah baby,” Kamilla moaned, leaning forward. The Academy’s short plaid skirt did little to cover the white panties framing her round ass in this position. “Hold my hips.”

Abbi complied while Kamilla lifted her legs up into a wheelbarrow position again, holding herself up to rub even more vigorously against Abbi’s legs. Somehow, Kamilla transitioned into a handstand, acrobatically rotating her legs up and around one at a time to stand up in a most unexpected way.

“Well done, Miss Kamilla,” Ms. Ford clapped. “You should return her favor, Miss Abbi.”

Abbi stood, biting her lower lip. Kamilla’s show had aroused her to the point of dumb numbness. Kamilla sat and waved her in, inviting.

“Lift your leg up on my shoulder,” Kamilla commanded. Abbi braced herself against Kamilla’s shoulder and the chairback and tried her best to match Kamilla’s flexibility. Kamilla grasped Abbi’s ass on one side and knee on the other, resting her warm cheek against the smooth ivory calf. She then arched her back and started thrusting her hips upward into Abbi’s exposed crotch.

It all came crashing down when Kamilla lifted Abbi’s skirt and slid a hand inside her panties to squeeze the firm flesh of her butt cheek.

“Miss Abbi, why are you out of uniform?” Ms. Ford’s admonition pierced the fog of arousal that had enveloped Abbi’s mind. At first, Abbi couldn’t imagine what Ms. Ford meant, then she remembered her dress code breaking but unbearably cute pink panties.

“Oh shit,” Ariel gasped.

“Miss Ariel!” Ms. Ford could really turn on the stern. The whole class felt the trouble that both girls suddenly found themselves in.

Abbi stood shocked with her hand on her mouth, tears welling up in her big blue eyes.

Kamilla grasped her hand briefly before returning to her desk, whispering “Sorry,” as she passed.

“Miss Ariel, go stand by the left side of my desk,” Ms. Ford began. “Miss Abbi, stand on the right side and face each other.”

Ms. Ford turned on the lights then moved over to a non-descript supply cabinet, one of those tall gray aluminum ones filled with paper and pencils and sticky notes and old calculators that can be found in any classroom everywhere. Those things did indeed litter the shelves of the cabinet but, hung on the inside of both doors were a number of implements that were distinct to the Spanking Academy. Riding crops, old leather belts, several thin switches, a couple of canes, several pairs of leather shackles, a long wooden paddle engraved with the phrase “Attitude Adjuster”, many different types of gags and blindfolds, a few painful looking leather instruments that Abbi did not know the name of, and an old wooden brush. The brush set off alarm bells deep in Abbi’s mind.

Abbi felt a wordless, thoughtless fear that made her shake helplessly. Her carefully memorized safe word instantly rose to the surface of the roiling anxiety in her mind, but she pushed it down. She would not be the first to use it among her classmates mere hours after starting the term. She expected some of this, looked forward to much of it, but never realized how much fear would be a factor. Her online Daddy never made her feel afraid, no matter what he insisted she do. Embarrassed maybe, horny for sure. Fear was new.

It was thrilling. Like the first drop of a tall rollercoaster, but better because it was sexual, and worse because of the real pain she would have to endure. And in public! The whole Sophomore class would be watching! Looking across the desk at Ariel while Ms. Ford decided the tools of their punishment was all she could do to keep from running away, crying.

“We’ll get through this together,” Ariel whispered.

Abbi nodded.

“Bend over and grasp each other’s hands. Don’t let go and don’t stand up until I say so.”

Ms. Ford’s amiable nature had been replaced with a commanding strictness, an intimidating severity that was only made worse by the implements of their punishment in her hands.

“Yes, Ms. Ford,” they intoned together. The heavy wood desk was smooth and solid and Abbi was thankful to have something to lean against. Taking Ariel’s small, sweaty hands into her own was another comfort.

Ms. Ford set the brush in front of Abbi, and a belt in front of Ariel.

“These are very pretty, Miss Abbi,” Ms. Ford cooed, flipping up her skirt to display the contraband underwear. “Since this is a first offence for both of you, you may choose the number of spanks and whether you must have your bottoms bared or not. Think carefully, because if you choose too light a punishment, I will start with that and add double with the tool in front of you.”

She pushed the elastic bands on either side of Abbi’s panties together, exposing her buttocks.

“Very cute,” Ms. Ford cooed. “It looks as though you have already been punished.”

“Yes, mam,” Abbi cried, hoping for a reprieve.

“Was it from Ms. Buchannan?”

“No, mam, it was Nurse Polk.”