The Headmasters’ Room’ (Part 2)
When the bell rang for the end of the morning lessons at 12.30; I was strangely disappointed at not having been called back to Mr Skinners’ office for him to finish my punishment in his study.
I ate lunch with some girlfriends then hung around the gym buildings smoking cigarettes and talking about a party that we were going to on the Saturday night.
As the bell rang for the end of lunch- break Thelma the School Secretary spotted me and called me over; “Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you everywhere. Mr Skinner is very angry with you and wants to see you immediately.”
“I’ll just go to the toilet first.” I coolly told the frumpy old cow as I nonchalantly swept past her, making my friends giggle.
“I don’t think so!” She hissed as she firmly grabbed my arm, “Get along there now!”
My feet hardly touched the ground as she marched me along the main corridor to his office.
“Wait there.” Thelma pointed to the wooden seat that I becoming used to sitting on as she knocked on the door then entered the Headmasters’ Study.
A minute later she re-opened the door and grinned at me; “In you go.”
Mr Skinner was sitting behind his large oak desk gently rocking backwards and forwards in his leather swivel chair.
“Aha…the elusive Miss Simpson,” he chuckled sarcastically, “I’m so pleased that you could find the time to see me.”
I knew better than to give him a smart answer when he was in this mood so stood in silence.
“Have you had time to reflect on your behaviour since your last visit?” He asked me.
“Yes sir.” I replied, unsure what else to say.
“I doubt that very much,” he smiled as he slipped back into his chair.
He then prattled on for ages about my behaviour and what the school expected of its pupils and how I should ‘buckle down’ and work hard as I had my A Level exams the next year etcetera, etcetera.
“So Miss Simpson,” he finally finished his sermon, “As I told you earlier in the week, there appears to only be one thing that a girl like you understands…”
With that he stood up and meticulously selected a thin bamboo rod from the box in the corner.
I was soon regretting drinking two cans of Cola at lunchtime and now had that horrible feeling when you need to pee.
“Bend over and touch your toes.” He commanded me, “Remember you will receive an extra three strokes for swearing.”
“But sir..!” I wanted to ask permission to go to the toilet first.
“SILENCE girl!” He shouted, “Bend over and touch your toes… NOW!”
“But sir…I need to…” I pleaded.
He responded by squinting his heavy eyes and glowering at me.
“Now…girl…NOW!”
Resigned to my fate, I turned away and bent forward clasping my ankles and exposing my yellow knickers to the Headmaster.
“Are you ready Miss Simpson?” Mr Skinner tormented me as the air from the cane flashed inches away from my thighs as he took aim, “then we shall begin.”
‘Swish – whack’. I flinched as the cane walloped my arse as hard as any of the earlier ones. He meant business this time.
‘Swish – whack’ the cane landed a second time; fully across both buttocks as I clenched my thighs together; desperately trying to avoid wetting myself.
“Mmmm,” I heard him sigh as I slightly wiggled my raw arse to relieve a little bit of the pain.
There was a gap in proceedings making me think that he’d finished; but I was wrong – ‘swish – WHACK!’ The bastard nearly knocked me off my feet with the third swipe of his cane. I unconsciously opened my legs as I steadied myself which made my worst fears come true. There was a sudden warm, wet feeling between my legs followed by a feeling of relief as my pee began to trickle from my bladder and ran down the inside of my long legs as I remained bent double with my arse still stinging from the three swipes of the rod.
“Oh my God!” Skinner gasped as he watched the golden liquid run onto his wooden floor. “What are you doing you dirty little girl?”
“Sir…Sir…I’m so sorry…I…I…”I whimpered as I tried to stand up but Skinner insisted that I remained bent over as the last drops of piss filled my wet cotton knickers.
His breathing was now so loud and fast I thought that he was having an asthma attack until he coughed and asked me, “Are you finished?”
“Yes sir,” I whispered with tears running down my cheeks from embarrassment and pain.
“Then I shall finish.”
I couldn’t believe he was actually going to continue caning me after watching me piss my pants.
‘Swish – crack.’ The cane made a splashing sound as it hit my soaking wet pants and it hurt even more than the last swipe.
He followed this with two more vicious swipes across my raw arse until satisfied with his handiwork he finally told me to stand up.
I was now so uncomfortable and excited my pussy felt as if it was going to boil over as my scalded inner thighs were stinging as much as my tanned arse. When I turned to face him Mr Skinner was red-faced and standing with his hands on his hips holding his cape wide open and sporting an obvious bulge in the front of his trousers.
“Well-well Miss Simpson, in all of my years as a teacher I’ve never witnessed anything quite like that.” He gasped; struggling for air, “there’s a towel in the cupboard behind you that you can dry yourself with then use it to mop your mess up with.”
I opened the small wooden door and took out a pristine white hand towel and began wiping my legs.
“No, no, no Lisa…I think that you should turn around and face me.” The Headmaster commanded.
I slowly turned and lifted the front of my short grey skirt as I began dabbing at my yellow piss soaked knickers then; carefully opening my legs wide enough so that he could see my crack which was clinging to the damp cotton gusset.
There was an eerie silence as, still with my skirt held up around my waist, I provocatively ran the towel up and down my legs until I was sure that they were both dry.
Mr Skinner was now resting against his desk with his hands stuffed deep into his trouser pockets and his eyes glued to my every move as I straightened my skirt.
“Now the floor,” he uttered hardly moving his thin lips.
I slowly dropped to my knees and spread the towel over the still warm puddle of piss which smelt sickly sweet. Never taking my eyes off his, I carefully mopped it all up with his once white towel.
His chest was heaving up and down when he finally said, “That should be enough for today…you can go now.”
“Thank you, sir.” I nodded as I stepped over the soiled towel and left his room.
My legs were weak and chaffed as I slowly walked along the main school corridor to the girls’ toilets savouring the stinging feeling in my arse and the ache in my pussy and nipples.
Once inside the toilet I carefully took my cold, wet knickers off and laid them on top of a toilet cistern as I swiftly shoved a finger inside my pulsating twat and pressed my sore arse against the cold metal door, closed my eyes and flicked my little rosebud like a mad woman as I frigged myself until I had the most glorious orgasm. When I got my breath back I flushed my stinking knickers down the toilet then washed my gash and legs until the smell of piss was pretty much gone.
I brushed my hair then made my knickerless way up the stairs to my first class of the afternoon. Just like Tuesday I struggled to concentrate as my arse was tingling nearly as much as my pussy as I re-lived my caning over and over again as the Geography teacher droned on and on.
The day was ‘topped off’ by making sure that I slowly walked upstairs in front of a group of giggling 13 year old boys on the Double- Decker school bus, making sure that they got a good look up my short skirt at my red-raw arse and who knows what else!
For a variety of reasons I didn’t get into enough trouble to be sent back to the Headmaster over the next few weeks; but still masturbated furiously every night and some mornings re-living every second of my thrashings and pissing my pants in front of him.
Then, just as we were about to break up for the Easter holidays, my whole life crashed around my feet when my parents split up and my mother took my sister and I to live 100 miles away to live with my grandparents.
Mother’s plans for me to go to University went up in smoke as I had to leave school and get a job in a shop to help pay our way.
Lisa