Home > Discipline, Erotica, Nudity, Punishment, Spanking, Stories, Voyeurism > A Very Naughty Picture Story–first four chapters

A Very Naughty Picture Story–first four chapters

In August I published a very naughty novel that is being distributed as an e-book. As the plot is quite non-PC I’m reluctant to disclose the name of the book.

I’ll put up the first four chapters here, but before I do I’ll relate how this novel came to be.

***

I once wrote a story for TheStoryMill.com, which is no longer in operation. TheStoryMill had many sets of pictures, and approved authors could select a set and write a story to the set’s pictures. Writing a story to pictures was more difficult than I first imagined, because one had to tailor the story to the images rather than go where one wanted. Later I wrote other picture stories, and once you get the hang of it they’re lots of fun.

I picked a set with the woman shown below, and because my tale turned out to be rather charged, it was not acceptable to the site. I wrote a different story around the same pictures, and it was eventually published on The StoryMill.

Over time I gathered other pictures and rewrote my politically incorrect story, and it eventually became the first part of a three part novel.

Here is the novel’s teaser:

Years have past, and many women, young and not so young, have come within the purview of Mr. Punire’s judgment and, likely, his lash. He has been many places, seen many things, met many people, rich and poor, and developed his art. Some say he is the greatest artist of his kind, yet he is an imperfect man, a rationalizing animal like the rest of us. Be that as it may, he fights valiantly against those who pretend to do what he does yet abuse their power, and he fights valiantly against demons thrust upon him during his youth, a private hell of which we know little. His profession is to punish—he is convinced of its efficacy—yet as he administers harsh justice he tries to do much good and no permanent harm. Does he accomplish these lofty goals while employing the base methods of the profession he is compelled to practice? That, one must decide for one’s self. And why is it said he is compelled to practice his profession? To learn you must read on.

***

Chapter 1. An Unexpected Assignment

The phone rang. The duty officer answered, “Warden’s office.”

“Hi. This is Jerry Adams from The Form. Is Sal Donato still at your facility?”

“He’s in with the warden. I think he’s getting ready to leave. Would you like to talk to him?”

“Please.”

The duty officer put The Form on hold and pressed the intercom Talk button. “Jerry Adams of The Form would like to talk to Mr. Donato.”

“Put him through,” the warden said.

“Sal?”

“Jerry. Hi. I’m all done here.”

“Did you have a good day’s work?”

“Not bad. It went pretty much as expected. They’re good at keeping control here.” Sal Donato raised his eyebrows at the warden, indicating his appreciation.

“Would you have time to go over to Dominion School? They have a new principal there, a young guy by the name of Bob Haggerty. I asked around about him. He’s not well known, but he’s asking for training on disciplining junior college students.”

“Sounds like a sensible fellow. I’ve got some time I could spend with him. I have nothing on my calendar until I fly out on the twenty-fifth.”

“Do you know how to get to the school?”

“I was there once, many years ago. I’ll get directions from the warden.”

“Thanks. It saves me from sending someone from farther away. Check with me before you leave for the Far East, in case anything else comes in from that part of the world.”

“I will.”

“Have a nice trip.”

“Thanks. Bye.”

Sal Donato left Carlsen Women’s Prison and drove toward Dominion School. He wondered if there was a specific problem that needed attention or if the principal only wanted general training for future eventualities. Either case had its problems.

General training would be difficult without a student on which to put theory into practice. Sal could go over the rules that specify what is allowed under different scenarios, and he could give Bob Haggerty a copy of Procedures of The Form, but what the principal would be permitted to do would be strictly limited until he completed training using a real student as a subject.

On the other hand, if the principal had a specific student or students that needed correction, Sal was not well equipped. He was not expecting work other than at the prison, and he knew they had everything he would require. He did not bring his personal kit that included the restraints and punishment implements that he would want to be able to choose from when he was at a school. And he did not like to improvise, for he knew that the codes were in place for a reason, and as benign as any improvisation might seem there was no substitute for equipment that has been rigorous tested under controlled conditions. All he had were a few of the spank-sticks that were ubiquitous in his profession.

It was after noon when Sal checked into the hotel recommended by the warden. He called Principal Haggerty and made an appointment for 8:00 the next morning.

Chapter 2. The Infraction

“Sal Donato,” Sal said and put out his hand.

“Bob Haggerty.” Principal Haggerty put out his hand, and the men shook.

“They tell me you’re the best,” Bob said.

“I don’t know about that. There are a lot of us who are proficient, though the range of our styles would make an interesting study.”

“Don’t be modest. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“I’m glad you called. Discipline can, at its best, be an art. At its worst it can be injurious and criminal.”

“I like to do things right. I plan to be a headmaster for a long time. I’m going to invest in training, as the school board and other headmasters have suggested.”

“That’s the right attitude. What prompted you to call at this particular time?”

“I have a discipline problem that needs to be dealt with immediately. It’s a serious offense, and we both know that when a punishment quickly follows an infraction the connection between the two is demonstrated most emphatically.”

“Indeed. Is it a young man or a young woman?”

“A young woman. Does it matter if it’s a girl or a boy?”

“I’m certified to handle women and men, but I’m a female specialist.”

“Mmm.”

Sal Donato could see the glint in Haggerty’s eyes. “Let’s get something out of the way,” Sal said. “We call it lesson number one. Punishment involves humiliation. The single most effective tool of humiliation is nudity, and nudity provokes sexual feelings. You’re a man, and you have a man’s feelings. For a man to deny that punishment of a naked woman can be arousing is a lie. Don’t deny it. However! To use punishment for your own gratification, or anyone else’s, is illegal, and though I’m not much of a God fearing man, by my God it’s a sin. What you think and feel is okay, but your actions must remain proper at all times.”

“I understand.”

“Yes, I’m sure you do, to a degree, but there’s a gray area the size of the Arabian Sea, as the saying goes. It sounds better in Arabic.”

He’s listening, but I doubt he’s taking the lesson to heart, Sal thought. Sal knew it was the rare man who when given the power to strip a young woman and handle her when she is naked and then spank her, could distance himself from his own feelings and truly care for hers.

“What’s her name?” Sal asked.

“Sophia.”

“From the Greek for wisdom, of that we shall see. Let me take a look at her records, and could I trouble you for a cup of tea?”

Bob Haggerty sent his secretary for tea, and he and Sal Donato sat in the principal’s office while Sal looked over Sophia’s records. “I see she’s an athlete, a swimmer,” Sal said”

“She just joined the team, and swim meet attendance is already up because of her in a bathing suit. She’s delicious.”

“Good looking?”

“She’s very cute in a youngish kind of way. And you’re saying I’ll get to see her without her clothes on?”

“What did she do?”

“It was at the end of freshmen boy’s gym. The boys were showering after a long run. Sophia’s friend dared her to run through the shower room, and she did.”

“I’ll ask you some questions and make a tally.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s a useful technique. Many prefer it, because it attempts to be objective and therefore evenhanded. I evaluate subjectively, but it takes experience to be fair that way. To make a tally assign one point for everything bad and minus one for everything good, for example being truly repentant or trying to make a wrong, right. In a case like yours there’s controversy around scoring. How many boys were in the shower room?”

“Twenty-two are in the class, and two were absent.”

“Strictly speaking, that’s twenty infractions worth twenty points. A twenty-point punishment is very severe, and it’s not warranted. On the other hand the boys are young, and boys mature more slowly than girls. A freshman girl of eighteen is equivalent to a boy of fifteen or sixteen. We think of girls as being more vulnerable than boys, especially sexually, but young boys can just as easily be scarred by being forced to be naked in front of a woman as a girl can be scarred by being forced to be naked in front of a man. How old is Sophia?” Sal looked at her records, which were still in his hand.

“She’s in her first year,” Mr. Haggerty said.

“She just turned eighteen,” Sal said, referring to Sophia’s records. When did the infraction take place?”

“Yesterday, the eleventh.”

“Happy birthday Sophia. It looks like she gave herself a birthday present—feeling her oats, no doubt.”

“It was her birthday? What do you know?”

“So, we have an eighteen year old, not a minor, intimidating twenty naked boys who are, comparatively speaking, sixteen year olds. I’m going to give her ten points, which is serious.”

Bob Haggerty licked his lips. He had no idea what a ten-point punishment was like, but he was looking forward to finding out.

“Was she sorry for what she did?” Sal asked.

“It’s hard to tell. She said she was, but that was after I made it clear to her she was going to be punished.”

“What did you tell her was going to happen to her?”

“Nothing specific. She knows that the district allows corporal punishment—it’s in the school handbook, but the last principal didn’t believe in it. None of the kids know what my policy is going to be, and I’m sure they’re wondering. I didn’t mention corporal punishment or anything else. I want her to sweat.”

“I’ll interview her. I’d like to get her below ten points, if I can.”

“You would?”

“Yes, I would,” Sal said without further explanation. “You’re going to have to sign authority over to me for the duration of the punishment.”

“I don’t have a problem with that. Your reputation is that you are most careful.”

“And unless you just want me to punish her and be on my way you’re going to have to pay The Form for training.”

“Will this training count toward certification?”

“Yes, you’ll get two credits. One-on-one training is most effective. I’ve got a cost sheet I can give you.”

Sal Donato and Bob Haggerty passed papers. Haggerty signed up for one-on-one training and signed over responsibility for Sophia’s health and safety.

“It’s time for me to meet our lovely bathing beauty,” Sal said. “Do you have her schedule?”

Bob handed Sal Sophia’s schedule.

“She’s in… chorus,” Sal said. That’s a class that should put her in a good mood. Let’s meet her when she gets out.”

“That would be in twenty minutes, just enough time for us to enjoy our tea.”

Chapter 3. Mr. Punire Meets Sophia

They waited for Sophia outside the music studio. “That’s her,” Principal Haggerty said.

She is cute, Sal thought. Don’t get carried away.

Sophia saw Principal Haggerty and a strange man with him and blanched. She tried to pretend they weren’t there for her and walk away. Haggerty began to raise his arm to motion her over. Sal held Haggerty’s arm. “Let me do this,” he said and stepped in front of the principal. With a half dozen long strides Sal caught up with Sophia.

“Sophia Pavan,” Sal said her name quietly. Sophia stopped. Her friends backed away. Sal didn’t smile, and he ignored the other girls. He looked directly at Sophia’s eyes, opened his eyes wide, and pursed his lips slightly. His communication was a subtle combination of gestures—serious but unthreatening—as if to invite her to a meeting of the minds. “Come with me,” he commanded, but he said it gently. “I’m not going to hurt you.” At least not for the moment, he thought.

He walked side by side with Sophia, following Principal Haggerty through a doorway into the teacher’s quarters in which students were never allowed. They walked silently down a hallway and into a secondary corridor. Bob Haggerty unlocked a door, and the three of them entered a warm room filled with comfortable furniture.

Sal directed Sophia to sit. Her dress was short, and she sat straight, kept her legs closed, and put her hands on her knees. Sal directed Principal Haggerty to sit to the side, and Sal sat directly in front of Sophia. He could see she was frightened.

“My name is Mr. Punire,” he said to Sophia. “Pu‑neer´‑eh, he emphasized the correct pronunciation. Try not to be nervous. We’re just here to talk. I know that you’re aware that you are due a punishment. That won’t be today. I don’t know yet what kind of punishment you deserve. I’d like to get to know you before I decide, and you can ask me anything. I’ll answer with complete honesty, though there may be things I will politely decline to tell you.

“You came without a fuss. That is good. I respect that. I respect all young men and women if they are polite and respectful to me, and I will be polite and respectful to you. You just made a mistake—we all make mistakes. We just have to take the punishment due us and go on from there. Do you have any questions?”

Sophia looked downward and shook her head no. Then she looked up and quietly asked, “Who are you?”

“My name is Mr. Punire. You must always address me as Mr. Punire, or Sir, or Mr. Punire, Sir. If you wish to ask, ‘Who are you?’ you must say, ‘Who are you Sir?’ I take this quite seriously.”

“Yes Sir.”

“Good girl. I am called a Master of Punishment. I know that sounds scary, but if you understand what I will say to you it should give you some comfort. I am paid for my work, and I travel all around the world doing it. It is a strange profession, and you may judge me harshly for it. That is not my concern. My concern is for your welfare as it is connected to whatever punishment I decide you are to receive. And only I get to decide. Principal Haggerty is not responsible for you or in charge of you in any way until I am done. He will not be able to decide what will happen to you, and he will not be able to punish you in any way other than what I might allow. This is by law and for good reason. Punishment can be light or severe, and I know how to do it well. And by this I do not mean that I know how to hurt you. To do it well means that even if I should hurt you no permanent harm will come to you. That I promise, and a Master of Punishment, a real one, an accredited one, always keeps his word.

“Please don’t hurt me. I said I’m sorry.” Sophia looked up, imploringly, but Sal wasn’t convinced.

“Tell me about the other girl. There was another girl who put you up to this, isn’t that right?”

“What other girl?”

“You are forgetting. You must say, ‘What other girl Mr. Punire?’” Mr. Punire raised his eyebrows and waited for a response, but Sophia pretended none was due.

“Stand up,” he ordered, but he still kept his voice quiet and unthreatening. Sophia stood. She was not contrite. Her expression said, I’m getting sick of this crap.

“Lovely dress. Is that what you always wear to classes?”

“Chorus was a dress rehearsal for a play.”

“Mr. Punire, Sir,” he reminded her again, and again she did not respond.

“Stand against that wall,” Mr. Punire ordered, a sternness beginning to come into his voice.

Sophia stood against the wall. She placed her hands on her hips, defiantly.

 

Sophia thinking I'm sick of this crap

“I’ll be right back,” Mr. Punire said to Principal Haggerty. Mr. Punire left the room.

He was gone five minutes. When he came back Sophia was squatting. Her legs were no longer closed. He could see that she was making no effort to prevent Principal Haggerty from looking up her dress. Her panties were showing, and her expression was even more defiant than when Mr. Punire left.

Sophia being defiant and showing her panties

Sophia saw that Mr. Punire was holding a wooden slat almost as long as a man’s arm, as wide as two fingers, and very thin. She didn’t know it, but it was made of maple and was highly polished and waxed. Her eyes widened, and she stood quickly. She backed away. “I’m sorry Mr. Punire, Sir,” she said. Her expression was fearful. “I’ll cooperate…Sir,” she quickly added. “The other girl was Karen Kramer, but her sister, Tina, and Sue Bonnovitch were also teasing me. Lily Holloway was there too. They all made me do it.”

“Bend over the back of that big chair,” Mr. Punire said. Raise your dress, and show me your thighs.”

“Please. I’ll do whatever you say.”

“Mr. Punire, Sir.”

“Mr. Punire, Sir. I’m sorry. I keep forgetting. I’ll tell you whatever you want. Please don’t hit me, Mr. Punire.”

Mr. Punire pointed the spank-stick toward the chair. Sophia, torn between submission and defiance, went to it, leaned over the chair’s back, and lifted her dress to expose her thighs.

Mr. Punire put the slat on the seat where Sophia could look at it as he adjusted her. He moved her forward and pushed down on her back. The chair was a heavy piece of overstuffed furniture, and she was bent over its peak, balanced precariously, with her toes barely touching the floor. “Don’t move,” he said as he picked up the slat.

He stepped behind her, brought the slat back, whipped it through the air, and stopped his arm just before the stick hit Sophia. But as he stopped he flicked his wrist so that rather than slow, the stick travelled toward the girl with an extra burst of speed to which was added that of the releasing spring of the tautly bent wood. Yes, Mr. Punire was a master, and the spanking stick whipped into the backs of Sophia’s thighs with a smack that made Principal Haggerty cringe.

Sophia breath stopped, moments passed, and then Sophia shrieked in pain and frantically tried to rise, but Mr. Punire had anticipated that, had his hand on her back, and he held her down, raised his slat, and whacked her again, even harder. She kicked and squealed in pain and outrage, and she yelled out, “No! Don’t! Don’t hit me again. I’ll tell you what you want.”

“What I want…” Mr. Punire said, and he whacked her with third stroke even harder than the first two.

“Ahhhhhh,” Sophia screamed. She tried to slide off the chair and out of range of Mr. Punire’s paddle, but he had a handful of her dress that had risen to expose her panties and the flesh of her buttocks swelling beyond the margins of the minimal covering favored by young women.

“…is for you to address me as Mr. Punire.” He smacked her again, this time applying the spank-stick to her buttocks, eliciting another squeal and shriek of pain.

Principal Haggerty’s penis rose into an erection as he watched the reddening bands that marked each of Sophia’s four whippings. He longed to be wielding the spank stick slashing her girlish, yet womanly, thighs and rear end.

Mr. Punire yanked Sophia to her feet using her dress as a handle. He grabbed her arm and turned her toward him. Her hands flew to her buttocks and thighs, and she rubbed furiously, trying to lessen the sting. In front her dress just covered her pubic region. In the rear she was exposed.

“Sit down and cover yourself,” he said.

“Yes Sir,” she said. “Yes Mr. Punire, Sir,” she added. Sophia sat, but she positioned herself on the edge of her seat, and she pulled her dress down to cover her legs as modestly as her short hemline allowed. She still rubbed her thighs.

“Where were we?” Mr. Punire asked.

He saw Sophia wipe her eyes with her hand. He took a package of tissues from his pocket, opened it, handed one to her, and gave her the package.

“You were saying that the other girls made you do it.”

“They threatened to do bad things to me if I didn’t. Like hang a tampon, you know, with ketchup on it, from my backpack when I wasn’t looking. Stuff like that.”

Mr. Punire saw Principal Haggerty sit up straight at the mention of this antic. “Are they the ones who have been doing that?” he asked.

“Mm hmm,” Sophia said, nodding her head.

“There have been a number of incidents of that sort, recently, and worse,” Principal Haggerty said to Mr. Punire.

“Were you involved in these incidents, Sophia?” Mr. Punire asked.

Her mouth opened and then closed. “No,” she said. “I just watched.” Mr. Punire knew she wasn’t telling the truth, or at least not the whole truth. Lying—her score went up to eleven, make it an even dozen, Mr. Punire thought.

Principal Haggerty was thinking of the panties that barely covered Sophia’s backside and of the glimpse he’d gotten between her legs.

“You’ve been a bad girl,” Mr. Punire said to Sophia. He stood and asked Principal Haggerty to step out of the room. They talked quietly in the hallway and then came back in.

“Go back to your classes,” Mr. Punire said to Sophia. Your last class ends at ten minutes of three?

Sophia shook her head yes.

“Do you know where the detention room is?”

“We don’t use it anymore,” Principal Haggerty interrupted.

Mr. Punire looked at Sophia and raised his eyebrows. “Yes Sir. I know where it is,” Sophia said, her voice trembling.

Every student knew of the dreaded old detention room, because they had heard stories of the dreaded vice principal who ran the place before Principal Haggerty’s lenient predecessor took over and fired the man. The old vice principal was prone to whipping girls on the legs, as high up as he could get away with, but there were administrators who kept tabs on him, and he knew he could never whip a girl very far under her skirt and not get fired. Fortunately, for Sophia, he was no longer around, but Mr. Punire was, and Sophia was panicking thinking of what he might to do to her.

“After your last class I want you to be wearing the dress you have on now. You will leave your friends and go to the girl’s bathroom. You will remove your bra. Leave your panties on. Put your bra in your backpack. I want you naked from the waist up under your dress. Do you understand?”

“What are you going to do to me? You wouldn’t hit me…” Sophia put her arm across breasts.

“I’m sorry, but that is one of those questions I am not inclined to answer at this time. Make sure that you don’t even think about running away. That little spanking I gave you will be nothing compared to what I’ll do to you if you try to hide from me. Do you understand everything I have instructed you to do?”

“Yes Sir, Mr. Punire, Sir.”

Don’t tell any of your friends what you are doing or where you are going. Don’t tell them about this meeting. Don’t tell them anything, and I’m sure they’ll want to know all about it. If I find out that you talked to them about any of this, any of it, I’ll punish you severely. After you take off your bra come to the old detention room. Don’t dawdle. Have I made myself clear?”

“Yes Mr. Punire… Mr. Punire, Sir?”

“Yes Sophia?”

“You said that you weren’t going to punish me today.”

“That is correct. I’m glad you remembered. I’ll see you right after three.

Chapter 4. Sophia’s Apology

At ten after three Sophia was outside the door of the old detention room. She did not want to go in. She was very conscious of her breasts being bare beneath her dress and afraid of what Mr. Punire would do to them, but she was more afraid of what he would do if she did not go in. She turned the knob and tentatively pushed the door open. Mr. Punire was waiting for her, and took her wrist and pulled her inside.

Desks and chairs were pushed against one wall. On the opposite wall Principal Haggerty stood alongside a group of boys. “They’re all here, the twenty from the shower incident and the two who were absent,” Haggerty said,

Mr. Punire pulled Sophia to the center of the room and had her face the boys. The boys shifted nervously. Some looked serious, and others grinned foolishly.

“This is not a laughing matter,” Mr. Punire began, though none of the boys were laughing. I don’t take kindly to boys sneaking looks at girls when the girls are not properly dressed, and I frown, equally, on girls doing the same to boys. Being naked is more often than not a private affair, especially between youngsters, especially when they are of different genders, and especially when they are not invited.

“Young men, you are here so that Sophia can apologize to you. She looked at you improperly. I know that some of you didn’t have a chance to cover up when she came upon you unexpectedly, and you may have been embarrassed. I think it is only fair that to apologize, Sophia show herself naked to you.”

Sophia’s jaw dropped. No, her head was shaking. “Please Mr. Punire. That isn’t right. I don’t want to show myself to a bunch of boys. And they’re too young, Sir. You said so yourself, Sir, that it isn’t good for them, Mr. Punire, Sir.”

“I said that it might not be good for some of them to be looked at by a woman who is older than they are.” Mr. Punire turned toward the boys. “How many of you have looked at pictures of women in a state of undress?”

No one raised his hand.

“Come on, be honest, or I’ll send Sophia away, and we can forget her apology.”

A few hands rose quickly. Every other hand followed.

“How many of you have seen a real grown-up woman who is not clothed—not a woman in a picture? And you can include a sister, if you have one, or a cousin.”

Some hands went up tentatively.

“How many have seen a woman who is not your sister or cousin naked?”

One hand went up and quickly came down.

“What’s your name, Son?” Mr. Punire asked the boy.

“Beau,” he said, and he looked fiercely toward the other boys, daring them to make fun of his name as they often did. He was a big kid, tough looking and none too clean. Mr. Punire put him down as a troublemaker.

Sophia was shifting from one foot to the other and looking at the floor.

“Beau, I want you to come here and unzip Sophia’s dress.”

Sophia took a step backward. She looked at Mr. Punire. She was horrified, and she begged him, quietly: “Please, please not him Mr. Punire, Sir.” She took another step backward, and when Beau stepped forward Sophia bolted for the door. She just got the handle turned when Mr. Punire caught up with her and grabbed her arm. She turned and started hitting him with her other arm, and then she kicked him hard on his shin. She tried to get away and out the door, but Mr. Punire held her tightly, being careful to turn sideways to protect his crotch. He pulled her up close by her arm and said in a menacing voice, but quietly so only she could hear: “You’ll do what I say or I’ll strip you naked and let those boys give you a spanking that will set your ass on fire for a week. Then I’ll punish you myself. You’re in a world of trouble girl. Get a hold of yourself!”

The news that Sophia was going to have her dress unzipped was enough to cause many boys, and Haggerty, to have erections. The suggestion that Sophia might be stripped completely naked and that the boys would be able to take turns spanking her made the others have erections too. One boy ejaculated in his underwear.

Mr. Punire let go of Sophia, daring her to run, and he lifted his pant leg. He and Sophia could see a rivulet of blood welling from a bruise and dripping toward his sock. Shit, he thought. This is what happens when I’m not prepared. Usually a punishment master would have an assistant, someone who knew what he was doing, not someone like Haggerty.

Mr. Punire took Sophia’s arm and against her will dragged her back to the center of the room. “Beau, do what I told you, but don’t you dare touch her,” Mr. Punire said in a threatening voice.

Beau shuffled forward, and Mr. Punire raised Sophia’s arm and turned her sideways toward the boys. “Stop resisting,” he ordered Sophia who was still pulling back.

Beau struggled to figure out how to open her dress. He found the zipper along the side and struggled to get his fingers on its small pull.

“Open her dress,” Mr. Punire said impatiently.

Sophia pushed Beau away and opened her dress exposing her breast, her side, and the upper band of her panties. Mr. Punire ordered Beau back to the line of boys.

Sophia’s was mortified, but in no way did she want to let on how she felt. She did her best to stare at the boys, challenging them to act up. She hoped that some of them would, particularly Beau, and that Mr. Punire would punish them.

Sophia forced to strip

Mr. Punire made Sophia stay in position and display herself. He knew that if he let them the boys would stare at her all day, but his leg was hurting, and he wanted to get this over with. He turned her front on toward the boys and ordered, “Take off your dress!”

“Noooo, Please, please, Mr. Punire. Don’t make me. Pleeease.”

Mr. Punire was not in a forgiving mood. “Maybe if you hadn’t kicked me… Get it off.”

Mr. Punire was out of patience, and Sophia was holding her dress tightly to her body. Mr. Punire stepped behind her, grabbed the hem of her dress, and peeled it up, exposing her panties and then her breasts. He pulled the dress over her head and threw it far away, so it was out of reach. Sophia was separated from her dress and was dressed only in panties. Her arms quickly folded across her breasts.

“Lower your arms,” he said. “Be a queen. Keep your dignity. Show the boys you’re stronger than they are. Let them look and get it over with. Then I’ll let you get dressed.”

Sophia did the best she could. She faced the boys. She lowered her arms and let them look, though she clasped the fingers of one hand with the other and covered the junction of her legs, hoping that Mr. Punire’s would allow it. Her head tilted—it was the most she could do to hide. She looked at the boys and tried to be brave, but she wanted to die.

Not so defiant anymore

“Put your hands at your sides,” Mr. Punire ordered.

Sophia reluctantly complied, though she kept her legs tightly together.

“Open your legs,” Mr. Punire ordered.

“Please,” she pleaded. “Why do I have to?” She was on the verge of crying, and again she unconsciously moved her hands to cover between her legs.

“I don’t owe you an explanation,” Mr. Punire said angrily. “When you looked at the boys they were naked. Shall I take your panties off and then make you open you legs? That would be fair. Wouldn’t it boys?”

“Yes Mr. Punire,” the boys said in unison, many of them grinning.

“Ohhhh, Mr. Punire, Sir,” Sophia whined, but she put her hands at her sides and opened her legs quite widely, for she was very much afraid that if she didn’t Mr. Punire would run out of patience and take off her panties.

Mr. Punire looked at his watch and let the boys study her, in silence, for a full five minutes. Their gazes drifted over the swells of her pubescent breasts, her flat abdomen, and the rise of her pubic mound hidden within her panties. They paid particular attention to her breasts that were not hidden and especially to her nipples, saucy bumps that had risen uncontrollably in the cool cellar air, much to Sophia’s embarrassment, on areola that swelled as if they were little breasts of their own. Puffy nipples, boys would call them, but they weren’t cotton, they were the hormonally swollen flesh of a pubescent girl fast becoming a woman.

Most of all they studied her vulva that was clearly displayed by cloth wrapping in a cute package one could imagine holding and milking with one’s fingers. The fluff of her hair softened the depression of her crease, yet the presentation of that alluring valley in soft shadow was unmistakable. Haggerty thought he could even see the bump or her clitoral shaft peeking from between her lips, but he was not sure if it was that or a tuft of her downy adornment.

Sophia was embarrassed and humiliated, but being stripped naked and paraded in front of a group of men who remained clothed was a fantasy she had indulged in, many times. She was aroused, but her fantasy had never included being shown to classmates who would talk about her and relive her humiliation forevermore. Her face vacillated in a display of a complex set of emotions.

“Boys, do you accept Sophia’s apology?”

“Yes Mr. Punire,” they chorused.

“You boys are to leave now. Sophia, hold the door open for them as they file out. Any boy who touches Sophia, I’ll whip his penis so he won’t want to touch it for a month.”

They filed out, staring hard at Sophia as they passed but giving her a wide berth. She hung her head in shame.

“Get dressed,” Mr. Punire said after the boys left. Sophia put her dress back on. She started to zip it.

“Put your bra on,” Mr. Punire said.

Mr. Punire and Principal Haggerty watched Sophia put on her bra and zip her dress. Mr. Punire turned to the principal. “I need to spend time with Sophia alone. I need to ask her some personal questions, and she’ll be more forthcoming if her principal is not around. Would you excuse us?”

Mr. Punire knew that Principal Haggerty would not like this. Punire knew Haggerty’s feelings better than Haggerty himself. He knew that for all the principal’s noble rhetoric he thought of Sophia as a toy, which was why it was critically important for Mr. Punire to have legally established authority. Punire was aware of all the emotions surrounding his profession—his own and those of the people around him. He knew it was time to separate Sophia from emotional responses that could be harmful to her, for to punish a young woman and have her come out chastened but emotionally sound required that a bond of caring be established between her and the man who was going to teach her the lessons she would be forced to learn. That alone—developing a bond, was what made Mr. Punire the best. He was acknowledged to be the world’s greatest female disciplinary specialist, a skill inspired by the great trauma of his boyhood.

The End

The end, at least for now, and a beautiful rear end it is.

 

  1. January 31, 2011 at 3:03 pm

    My goodness Matt…you are outdoing yourself…a case of copy, paste then print and night-time reading.
    I’ll send a review when I have consumed it 🙂

  2. January 31, 2011 at 4:19 pm

    Thanks Mark. I can always count on you, but cut and paste won’t get you the pictures, so make sure you take a look at them too (duh).

  3. February 1, 2011 at 7:28 am

    Matt what an incredible read…I did after all read this with my laptop last night, pictures very much on display. I must commend you on a brilliant piece. First, using the pictures to come up with a wonderfully erotic story and second how you structured this. I love your style of writing, and envy how good you are when writing dialogue. The dialogue was so easy to read and is often a part where I struggle, but you have a wonderful skill in this. The small details make a piece so speacial you have them all. I loved the characterisation as well.
    It is wonderful how you have tapped into a fantasy of mine, when I was a boy….that during a biology lesson our teacher, who happened to be female, would actually teach us female anatomy using herself as the model for which we would all gather and get a chance to view and touch. This was a regular fantasy of mine at school and kept me hard for very long periods during my biology classes.
    Well done Matt, this certainly hit the spot in many ways and was so well crafted.
    I do hope there is much more to come, in more ways that one 🙂

    • February 1, 2011 at 9:48 am

      I went to an all boys high school, and views of girls and women during the school day were absent. I did take the New York City subway system to school, and I was always on the lookout for a peek up a short skirt of a sitting girl. I was often rewarded.

      I think it was in my third year of high school that we got a female for a math teacher, and she was young and terribly sexy. Every boy in the school (except for the gay ones who were hot for the music teacher) as well as the male teachers, administrators, and janitors masturbated over her, fantasized about her that is. God she was hot. I remember thinking: How could they have hired her? It must have been so obvious the effect she would have on us. I wonder if she knows what we think about her.

      The principal was a major lech, I imagined. He must have been thrilled to see her walk through his door. She probably wore a short skirt, a see-through shirt, and a frilly bra for her interview. The old man probably told her to give him a blow job if she wanted to get hired, but she wouldn’t. She was too young and sweet. But he hired her anyway–an investment in his future.

      I bet she had the cleanest room in the school. The janitor would spend as long as he could in her room after hours, while she was preparing the next day’s lessons.

      Then the music teacher would come in. The gay guys lusted for him, but he was straight and probably did the young teacher every afternoon, until she had to go home to her husband who didn’t much care for sex.

      My my, I do go on.

      Mark, write your fiction and write dialog into it. Imagine yourself in place of the characters, think of what you would say and write it. Throw in the occasional he said or she said, so we can keep track of who’s talking. Once you get started you’ll see it isn’t hard, and if I can be of any help I’ll be happy to comment on your work.

    • February 1, 2011 at 10:14 am

      I looked back at one of your recent posts and found that you can write dialog just fine, though if this wasn’t a blog I’d tell you to fix the capitalization, punctuation, and paragraphing. Also, the fifth word from the end, don’t, should be taken out. Also, be careful of using contractions or not. In informal speech a character is more likely to say “what’s” than “what is.” But when the narrator, who is not a character, speaks I usually avoid contractions. Also, Americans, note that in the UK single quotes are used for quoted speech. There are other differences in punctuation and use of language between American and UK speech. Here’s one of which all international writers must be aware. In the US pants are trousers but in the UK pants are panties and so are knickers, though I had one woman from the UK tell me that only schoolgirls wear knickers. Women wear panties. What do men wear? In the US men wear underpants.

      Here’s an example of your dialog:

      When I eventually turned fully around to face my ex she looked absolutely apoplectic and seethed under her breath, ‘You pervert!!!’

      Initially I was perplexed and asked what on earth she could mean—and her answer was, ‘Well, do you not know that these frozen food cabinets have glass doors which act as mirrors. I watched you looking at that girl when she passed down the aisle, You complete pervert!’

      To say she was annoyed would be an understatement. I did try to defend myself and said, ‘Okay, but please tell me what is [what’s] wrong with looking at a nice looking girl? It doesn’t mean I don’t [take out don’t] feel less for you.’

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