The fourth period ended on Monday and the girls all filtered out of my room into the noisy hallways. I reached over to the shelf on my right and sipped the last of my lunch-time coffee from the plain white mug, and turned off the small cup warmer it sat on. Outside my door, the sound of clicking heels and chatting girls slowly faded until the bell rang to start the next period and the last rapid staccatos faded down the hall. As the ring of the antique bell faded, a soft knock came from my open door. I looked up to see Miss Steph framed in the heavy oak doorway.

"Good afternoon, Miss Steph."

"Good afternoon, Mr. Ammon. I'm here like you said I should be." She chewed lightly on her bottom lip and shifted ever so slightly from foot to foot, trying hard to stand still, but not quite accomplishing it.

"You may enter. When you report her each day for work you do not need permission to enter. You are expected to be here. I gestured to and antique straight-back chair against the left wall. "When you enter, if I have not told you otherwise you will sit there until I acknowledge you. Sit now."

She walked over to the chair and sat, her hands fidgeting in her lap and her head wandering as she searched for something to occupy her attention.

I took several moments to attend to little tasks at my desk, giving time for tension to build in the nervous girl. Finally, I pushed up from my chair and walked calmly across the room to stand over her. Her head bowed and her gaze flitted from my face to the fidgeting fingers in her lap.

"These are the rules; if you do nut understand any of them, ask. You will be punished if you forget them or break them; you will not be punished for asking how to follow them properly. Is that understood?" She nodded her head. "When I ask you a question, you will respond, and address me as 'sir'. Is that understood?"

"yes, sir."

"Very good. As I stated before, any time you do not have an assigned task you will sit in this chair. You will sit with your back straight, knees together, hands on your thighs, palms down, face forward, eyes ahead.

"You must be honest with me at all times. This is an absolute rule. Not only will you answer all questions truthfully, but you will volunteer any information which may impact our agreement or our relationship. You will tell me when you reach your limits of pain or of pleasure--but I will be the one who decides how far it goes. You will do whatever I command of you. If you refuse an order, you will be dismissed and may not return. If you refuse to submit to a punishment, you will be dismissed and not allowed to return.

"These rules extend beyond this period and beyond this classroom. And I may change these rules, or add new ones as I see fit. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Do you wish to leave?"

"No, sir."

"Very well. You may start by filing these papers." I gestured to a stack of copies half a foot thick. "The system should be intuitive. If you finish before the period is over, return to your chair and wait. You may begin." I turned and walked back to my desk. As I settled myself in my chair, I looked over to my student.

"And Miss Steph; when filing in he bottom drawers, you may only bend at the waist."

***

Every day she came in to work in my room. Most days I had projects for her. Other days I created work. I had her crawl on her hands and knees, adjusting the levelers on all the desks so the didn't rock. Another time I had her on a ladder, reaching high over her head to dust the cornice molding at the top of the 10' walls. It was mostly innocent tasks--I wanted to take it slowly for the time--punctuated by random questions designed to keep her on edge and get her more comfortable with being honest and open. I would ask the questions out of nowhere;

"Are you a virgin?"

"What?"

"I asked you a question. I expect an answer in reply, not another question."

"um. Yeah." she mumbled it, embarrassed.

"That is not an answer, that's a mumble."

"Yes." the word came out clearer but still quiet.

"How do you address me?"

"Sir."

"That is correct. Now answer my question properly, and with a full sentence."

She shifted nervously, then took a deep breath and shifted her gaze from her own feet to mine. "Yes, sir. I am a virgin."

"ah. Very well." I went back to my work.

***

A few days later, while she was correcting exams, I asked another.

"Miss Steph, what type of bra are you wearing?"

"Sir?" her eyes widened a bit.

"You are wearing a bra today, aren't you?"

"Y-yes, sir. It's... um.. it's just white cotton, sir."

"Plain?"

"Yes, sir."

"That is unacceptable. Your beauty should not be covered in any thing plain."

I looked into her eyes from behind my desk. "Go to the restroom and remove it."

"What?"

"That impertinence will cost you. You will leave this room now. Either return with your bra off and hand it to me or do not return at all." Biting at her bottom lip, she shuffled a bit before turning and walking toward the door. She glanced back hesitantly as she turned the handle. I raised my eyebrows in a silent, questioning 'is there a problem?' and watched her continue out into the hallway.

This was the first test I had given her. I thought she would pass it, but had no way to know for sure. As the minutes slowly passed and she didn't' return, I thought, perhaps, that she wasn't' ready. It was almost 15 minutes later that she walked slowly back into my room. In her right hand was a small, tightly wrapped bundle of fabric. She stopped several feet from my desk and said nothing.

"Come here."

She hesitated a bit, but came as commanded.

"Hand it to me."

She looked down at the fabric in her hand, as if unsure that she would be able to let go. Her arm swung up slowly, under its own command and power, and she simply continued to look at it.

"Thank you, Miss Steph. From now on, you will wear only bras which are lace. If you do not have one available, you will go with out. As the heavy weave of your shirt doesn't allow me to see what your bra looks like, I may require you to show me what you have worn. Failure to follow my instructions will result in punishment." Under the thick, crisp cotton of her uniform shirt, I could see the barest hint of her hardening nipples pushing out. "Class will start shortly. Sit in your assigned desk until then. And while you wait for class to begin, you are to write a one page description of how you feel right now. I want details; physical and emotional. I want to know how the weave of your cotton shirt feels against your nipples. I want to know how the sway with your movements. I want to know how you feel about following my orders. Is this understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"And, if I feel you are less than fully honest in your writing, you will be punished."

I had made the threat of punishment on a number of occasions, but had yet to fulfill that threat.

Thanksgiving weekend changed that.

*** In order to allow students time to go home to see their families, the Wednesday before Thanksgiving was traditionally a half day of classes. The staff, however, were still expected to be there for the entire day. In reality, most of the staff left at lunch. While this was technically a violation of their contract, the administration ignored it; mostly because the administrators never bothered to come in to work at all that day.

About a week previous to the long weekend, I mentioned to Steph that I would be working and, since I knew she would not be leaving for the weekend, I expected her to show up for her normal work time.

When that Wednesday came, those students who hadn't left earlier all vanished at the ring of the lunch bell. Over the next hour, about 90 percent of the faculty and staff did the same. The bell rang to an empty building as the 5th period--my prep period--started. Steph was not at the door.

Almost half an hour had passed when I heard sharp click of uniform heels running down the tile hallway. They slowed abruptly outside my door, and Steph peeked around the corner hesitantly. She caught my gaze and shuffled fully into the door way, her head bowed, fingers picking at the bottom of her jacket. By way of comment, I simply looked to the clock, then back at her.

"I sorry, sir. I went home and laid down on the couch and then I fell asleep, and I didn't' realize it was so late. I'm really sorry. I am." She looked up, a pitiful look on her face. "Are you mad at me?"

"No Steph. I am not mad at you." Her pose relaxed a touch as I said it, "I am disappointed in you." She flinched at the words. I knew I'd read her correctly. "I gave you a simple task: be here on time. You failed. I can not let this go."

"I'm sorry." "I'm sure you are. That does not change the fact that you failed me. Now come here and accept your punishment."

I directed her to stand at the end of my desk and remove her jacket. I placed the jacket neatly across the back of a nearby chair and turned back to the beautiful young woman.

"Raise your skirt in the back."

Her eyes widened, and her mouth opened to protest, but one look at mg face stopped her short. Her hands slowly moved back to grip the hem of her skirt and raise it.

It was the first time I had gotten a chance to see more than a stolen glimpse of her smoothly-rounded ass and softly-muscular thighs. A pair of utilitarian cotton panties hugged themselves to her.

"Miss Steph, I am severely disappointed in you. I have instructed you that only lace shall cover your beauty."

"But I thought that was for-"

"You thought that was only for your lovely breasts?" I interrupted her. "If it applies to your breasts, does it not follow that it would apply even more so to your smooth ass and sweet cunt? I expect more than blind obedience to the letter of my law. I expect you to use your brain. Now remove those."

A mixture of fear and excitement showed in her expression; excitement gained the upper hand. She hooked her thumbs into the waist of the offending panties and drew them slowly down her legs, keeping her knees locked the until the small piece of cotton lay loosely around her ankles. With almost dance-like movements, she lifted first one, then the other foot, toes pointed gracefully, from the panties. Locking her knees again, she bent at the waist once more, picked up the panties, and handed them to me. I watched the glint in her eye and the smile she was only partly successful in hiding. As I accepted the white cotton, I felt the warmth and the touch of dampness and smiled to myself.

"These will cost you another ten strokes." she simply nodded at the additional punishment.

"I have to wonder how well you have followed my previous instructions. Is your bra to my specifications?"

"yes, sir."

"Considering your other transgressions today, I don't feel that I can accept your word on that. Show me."

Her hands shook slightly as she slowly unbuttoned the crisp cotton shirt of her uniform. The stiff edges of the shirt stayed together as she proceeded downward, keeping the fabric--and flesh--beneath covered. At last, she pulled the tails from the waist band of her neat skirt and released the last button from its hole. With a deep breath, she opened the shirt front and, with a slight arch of her back, let it fall off her shoulders to catch on itself just above her elbows.

Revealed beneath was a delicate lace bra. Its crisp whiteness stood out even against the pale color of her skin. The small cups did nothing more than gently hold the breasts beneath. Her young breasts had no need for support, and she did not fall prey to the fallacy that a shape such as hers must be compressed and hefted so as to promote a lie of greater size.

"Remove your shirt. I want to look on you as I administer your punishment. Your beauty will somewhat mitigate the pain of my disappointment."

She unbuttoned the shirt cuffs and finished removing it. Holding it by the collar, she handed it to me. Her eyes were downcast, and I could see her struggle not to cover her near nakedness with her arms.

I neatly folded the shirt and placed it over the back of the same chair that held her jacket.

"Turn to face the desk."

She did as instructed, and stood facing the end of the 7-foot antique desk. It's oak top was completely clear on the half she faced. The other half, across from her, held a few minor items, as well as the 20" flat-panel monitor of the personal computer assigned to me by the school. Being a wealthy school, no expense was spared in the equipment available to the faculty. Part of the system was a high-resolution web cam. Having prepared for this a while ago, I stepped to the computer, disabled the screen saver, and engaged the video feed. Steph's face went white when she saw what I did.

"You... you can't... you're not going to... "

"Yes. I am. Do you have a problem with that, young lady?"

"But...."

"You agreed to do what I instructed. To do what I wanted. If you can't hold up your end of the agreement, I suggest you leave and do not return. Is that what you want to do?"

Her lip quivered a bit, and finally she shook her head.

"Was that an answer, Miss Steph? I did not hear you say anything."

"no, sir."

"No what, Miss Steph?"

"No, sir. I don't want to leave." Her voice was quiet and shaky.

"Good. Then I suggest you stop protesting. Now, for the record, please explain why you are being punished."

"I'm.... I'm being punished for disobeying your orders, sir."

"And what orders were those?"

"I was late to report to you today. I didn't arrive when I was supposed to. And... and I wore the wrong pant... the wrong panties."

"Correct. You will receive one stroke for every minute you were late, and an additional 5 for being late at all. You will receive 10 for wearing improper clothing, and another 5 for not promptly following my instructions. By my calculations, that comes to a total of 32 strokes. Place your hips against the edge of the desk and bend forward."

She did as I instructed, placing her arms on the desk to hold her chest up. I removed my sports coat, folded it neatly and placed it on the desk beneath her head.

"You may rest your forehead on the coat. Now, reach back and raise the hem of your skirt again. Make sure it will not fall; you will not be allowed to hold it, and if it falls, we will restart the count."

Reaching back to raise her skirt and tuck the hem into her waist band, caused all her weight to rest on her chest and forehead. Once the hem was secured to her satisfaction, I continued.

"Place your arms out to the side. You may grasp the edge of the desk if you wish." She latched onto the lip of the desktop with a firm grip, her knuckles going slightly pale at the tension. "I will administer each stroke with an open hand. You will count the strokes to me. You will say 'one, sir.' And so on. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Very well. Are you prepared?"

There was a long pause after which her head nodded curtly against the impromptu pillow. "Yes, sir."

I placed my left hand firmly in the small of her back, and let mg right lay on the smooth curve of her ass. I allowed myself a few seconds just to feel the soft body before me.

Then, without warning, I pulled my hand back and swung down on my student's exposed ass. The slap of skin against skin was loud in the empty room.

"Ow!... One, sir."

I looked to the image of the beautiful girl before me being captured on the black-framed monitor. The intricate look of pain, passion, fear, and release washing progressively across her delicate features shaped the progress for my actions; the small detail of her bottom lip, half of it caught between her teeth, set the decision.

The first strike had been somewhat hesitant, far from my hardest, yet enough to have its desired effect.

The second strike was cleaner, crisper.

"Two, sir."

My hand rose with a purpose now; swinging with a smooth, powerful sweep back behind my head, and down again to the young, white ass presented to me.

"Three, sir."

I gained a rhythm after that. My hand beating time as it beat the skin it reddened. Three times during the process, I purposely skipped a beat. I watched as Steph tensed in anticipation of the next stroke, then gasped as it came unexpectedly late.

At last, the final strike sounded in the quiet room. I let my hand rest on the hot red ass of my student. Her hands were white from gripping the side of the desk. Her bangs clung to her forehead, stuck there by a fine layer of sweat. Her breath came in deep pants, causing her chest to swell and her back to rise against my other hand. Pausing to look at the beauty of the girl beneath my hands--her submission as powerful an excitement as I have ever tasted--I caught a smell: the smell of her arousal. I moved my hand along the curve of her ass, down the back of her thigh, and then to the source of that smell. A heavy dew of her arousal coated her lips.

A decision stood before me: another line to cross. Without a second thought, I strode across that line. Better to be hung for a lion as a lamb. Meeting with only the barest of resistance, I slipped a long finger between those wet lips and pushed deep into her cunt. Watching her reaction, I drew it back out, only to add my ring finger to it as I slipped back in. I leaned over her back and whispered in her ear.

"You were very good. You submitted to your punishment properly. This is your reward."

I stroked my fingers slowly, deeply into her. The two outer fingers lay along her labia, sliding forward with each stroke, caressing her sex inside an out. A smile came to my face as I looked down at her. With a deliberate slowness, I pulled my fingers from her sex and dragged them up between the enflamed cheeks of her ass, and circled them around the tight knot of her asshole, wetting it with her oils. I slipped them into her again, stroking three times before repeating the caress up between her cheeks. I watched her face on the monitor as I did this. Her eyes clenched shut, her lower lip sucked back between her teeth.

When, at last, her ass was wet with her own oils, I again slipped my fingers into her cunt, and laid the pad of my thumb against the clenched knot of her ass. I pressed gently, pulsing against the muscle with no attempt to enter it.... yet.

"Open your eyes." My voice softly broke the silence. "Open them. I want so see your eyes when I slip into your ass."

Her eyes shot open and she stared directly into the camera, looking at it like it were a lover; a cruel, yet desperately desired lover. Knowing she couldn't see my face, I nevertheless smiled at her. That look was one of pure trust, pure submission. At this moment, she was mine. Whether I could keep her would depend on my skills and my honesty.

I pressed harder with my thumb, feeling it slip through the tight muscle and slowly into the depths of her ass. My fingers continued to stroke into her cunt, and caress along her labia. Her eyes rolled up and her mouth came open in a silent, breathless scream of passion and intensity. My hand covered her, stroked inside her ass, inside her sex. It touched her everywhere except for that one point that would take her over the edge. Her clit was beyond the reach of my fingers. They teased close to it, but never touched. I could see and feel the tension building in her. Her passive submission faded and she became an active participant. Her breath came in ragged gasps and delicate squeaks. Her hips thrust back against my hand, pushing me deeper, trying to get that one sensation, that one touch that would push her over the edge. But something held her back. Something powerful. It took me several minutes to realize what it was.

As that realization came to me, I leaned over again and held my head behind hers. "Do you want to come?" I asked quietly.

She nodded her head, but made no other answer.

"Do you want to come?" I repeated.

She nodded more distinctly but still made no reply.

I whipped my hand out of her..."I asked you a question. I expect an answer" ...and slapped her hard across her ass.

"YES!"

I slapped her ass again. "How do you address me?"

"Yes, Sir!"

"What do you want?"

Her voice dropped to a pleading whisper "I want to come. I want to come, sir."

I slipped my fingers back into her sex, my thumb into her ass, and stepped right back into rhythm. "Ask me."

Her eyes shot open to look at the monitor. My eyes hovered behind her head and she looked into their image on the vibrant screen before her.

"P...P..Please, sir. Please let me come. Pleasssssse....."

I thrust my fingers harder, deeper into her, grasping at her insides, as I gently laid my lips against the back of her neck.

"You've been a good girl. You may come.... Now!" .. And sunk my teeth into the tight muscles of her neck, tasting her sweat, feeling her heat. That pain, that final sensation, sent her to the edge. My permission tipped her over it. She came with a spastic intensity. Her entire body clenched; struggling both to escape and to sink farther into my grasp, my bite. I pulled my fingers from her sex and captured her clit beneath them. Her orgasm stepped up to a higher level. Her breath stopped, trapped in her lungs. Her entire body locked in a clench, vibrating, twitching, beyond her control. She reached a limit.

"No.. no... no more.. No more.. oh, god.. no more."

I continued. I needed to. I required her to go farther. I could take her there. I needed to take her there.

And I did.

At the instant the scream ripped from her lungs, I yanked my hands and mouth from her, leaving her bereft off all contact; hanging in the sensation unable to connect to anything.

After several seconds, the scream collapsed into a series of sobs, the sobs collapsed into deep breaths.

I stepped behind her and gently placed my hands on the sides of her chest, pulling her slowly into a standing posture. Her fingers were slow to release the desk, straining painfully to straighten out. Her legs fluttered in echoes of their previous spasms, and her knees fought to remain straight. I turned her to face me and looked into her eyes, brushing the wet hair from her face in a soft, gentle gesture.

"You have pleased me today."

A faint smile cascaded across her face.

"I do not enjoy punishing you. It hurts when you disappoint me. I do not want to punish you into submission. I want you to walk there of your own free will. Your submission pleases me. Your body pleases me. If you want to give yourself to me, you must do so honestly, and fully."

Before she could answer, I kissed her softly, letting it linger for several seconds. I pulled back with a warm smile and raised a finger, still wet with her oils, to her lips, leaving a reminder of her passion.

"You may dress and be dismissed. You are free until Monday." Still not letting her respond, I turned and sat behind my desk while she deliberately dressed and walked, weak and happy, from my room.