It was afternoon maths again. Mrs Charlton looked stunning as usual. She was wearing a tight fitting skirt suit, in what looked like a woollen black and white check. The coarse fabric contrasted wonderfully with the sheer gossamer sheen of her flesh coloured nylons and black patent leather high heels.

To my surprise and disappointment, a new girl, Laura, had started sitting next to me in the front of class, at the double desks. To be honest, she was rather plain, and a little overweight. I had hardly looked at or talked to her at all.

As I stared at our beautiful teacher and ignoring Laura, I carefully began my usual habit of rubbing myself through my trousers; remembering the delicious wanking sessions I had enjoyed at home, with the discarded pantyhose I had ‘rescued’ from Mrs C’s bathroom.

Half way through the lesson, as Mrs C was standing close to our desk, I felt a warm soft hand on my thigh. Laura was gently stroking my upper thigh!

I was in a state of shock, and it must be said, a little excited at this turn of events.

It only lasted for a minute though, and nothing was said at the end of the lesson.

Two days later, I arrived at Mrs C’s home for another maths coaching session. I was relieved that no mention was made of her discarded pantyhose and made a special effort to concentrate on the algebra she was explaining.

Nevertheless, sitting next to such a mature goddess did not make it easy. Although she was wearing one of her more ‘homely’ outfits, her face was fully made up and her lips a deep pink and almost liquid in appearance. I couldn’t bring myself to meet her lovely penetrating eyes for fear that she would read my shameful, perverted thoughts.

Before leaving, I once again excused myself and made my way to her bathroom.

On this occasion, the laundry basket was full and over flowing. Nervously, I looked inside. Lots of her husband’s clothing was mixed with hers. Frantically, I delved to the depths of the basket, until my fingers touched on silk and lace. Gently, I extracted no less than three pairs of feminine underwear. Quickly and recklessly, I decided; taking a pair of her used panties in sexy shimmering silver grey satin and folded them inside my trouser pocket. I simply couldn’t help myself. She had forced me to do this!

That night, alone in my room, I savoured the delicious texture and scent of Mrs Charlton’s luxury underwear. I was in awe at the sensual feel of the slippery satin and spent some time sniffing and licking the lightly stained gusset. Wrapping her panties around my erection, I slowly jerked myself to a juddering orgasm; soiling her private intimate feminine garment with my filthy sperm.

Now spent and flushed, I began to contemplate the efficient consequences of my actions that day. How stupid had I been? Whilst she might not notice a missing pair of discarded, damaged pantyhose, surely Mrs C would miss such expensive, lavish panties? I began to worry; hardly sleeping at all, as I tried to think what might happen at our next tutorial…..

“Is there anything you would like to tell me Peter?”

It was my next maths tutorial at Mrs C’s home. As usual, I was sitting next to her on the sofa, with text books open on a small table in front of us. She was wearing tight black leather trousers, Stiletto heals and a white, ruffled chiffon blouse.

Blushing slightly, I replied: “Err, no, Miss, I don’t think so”

“Its just that, after our last session, I discovered that a very expensive pain of my knickers was missing……from the laundry basket in my bathroom”

Oh god, she knew! My face turned beetroot.

“Do you know anything about my knickers, Peter?”

I couldn’t speak and looked down, shamefaced.

“I think I will have to discuss this matter with your father……..unless…..”

“No, please Miss, I’m so sorry. I just couldn’t help myself”

“Why did you take them Peter? What exactly have you been doing with them?”

“You are so beautiful Miss. I can’t stop thinking about you. I love you Miss”

“You haven’t answered my question Peter. Do I need to telephone your father?”

“It was a chance to have something of yours Miss. Something personal. Something sexy that I could touch and kiss”

” That’s not all though is it, Peter? You’ve been masturbating with them, haven’t you? Do you really think that I don’t know what boys and men for that matter, get up to, given half a chance?”

My heart is now pounding. These revelations are almost too much to bear. I begin to cry. I manage to stutter a pathetic reply:

“Yes Miss. Sorry Miss”

“This is very serious Peter. If I am not to inform your parents or the school, I can see no other alternative. I will have to take it upon myself, to punish you in some way. A way to correct your disgusting behaviour. Do you agree?”

“Oh yes Miss. Thank you Miss”

“Very well. Go to my desk and you will find a ruler. Bring it to me”

Sheepishly, I did as I was told and handed the wooden ruler to Mrs Charlton.

“Sit down next to me and hold out your right hand. Your wanking hand Peter”

Shaking slightly, I extended my right arm, with the palm uppermost.

“No, I think we’ll have your hand palm down, first. You need to remember the pain, Peter!”

I turned my hand, exposing my vulnerable knuckles.

“Do not move your hand or flinch Peter. You deserve this. It will hurt a lot, but that is what happens to dirty thieving boys”

With that she brought the ruler smacking down hard across my knuckles.

I screamed in agony. Never have I felt such intense pain. I started to rub my fingers with my left hand.

“I told you to keep your hand in position! Hold it up by gripping your wrist with your other hand. Now!”

Somehow, I did as instructed. Tears forming again as I looked into her lovely cruel green eyes.

Smack! Down came the ruler for a second time. I screamed in pain but somehow managed to maintain my posture.

After four more stinging blows, Mrs C allowed me a few moments to rub my poor fingers which were quickly becoming bruised.

“Now, hold out your palm for me Peter. These will be a little harder, I’m afraid…..”

She proceeded to bring the ruler down at full force, six times on my upturned hand.

I was weeping uncontrollably at the end. Trying everything to ease the incredible pain in my fingers. Mrs C watched me in silence for a while, then instructed me to return the instrument of my punishment to her desk.

Amazingly, she then continued with our tutorial, as though nothing had occurred!

Before I left however, she had a few further personal instructions:

“You will return my panties at our next session Peter. Please make sure they are thoroughly laundered. Oh, and by the way, you may keep the pantyhose that you stole from my waste basket……..

………Yes, I knew about that too, you naughty boy!”