by Powerone
Michael was pleased with their request. “And, sexually?"
"Why of course, they would enjoy seeing her sexually molested. Especially, forced masturbation. And if she was a virgin in any of her holes, they would love to see her lose them to your cock. I'm sure there are ways you can make her perform for you sexually. Pain is such a motivator, especially for such impressionable girls."
"Tell the Board I'd love to bring in one of the girls to put on a show for them, put her through her paces. Thursday after class would be fine; the school would almost be empty. I haven't seen all of the equipment you speak of, but I'm sure that I can make good use of most of it. I think I would like to work on her Thursday night, but keep her bound after that for the remainder of the night. Then, she will be fresh on Friday for some further punishment. And of course she would be available to me again to take sexually. I am a big fan of anal sex and find that girls tend to really hate it the first couple of times” he chuckled. “Their screams are priceless as they feel a large cock forced up their ass for the first time."
"Do you have anyone in mind for the punishment?” Meredith's mind quickly clicked off the names of some of the girls she'd have chosen.
"I'm sure you know of Justine. I've read her file and noticed that she has had some lack of attention problems lately. She's one of the scholarship girls and we have her mother's permission for corporal punishment, though I doubt she neither told Justine nor even suspected what we might do to her daughter. I have not seen her; can you tell me what she looks like?
"A lovely girl, very quiet, no self confidence. She has average size breasts, nice full hips and such a well developed and shapely ass. She'd make a perfect candidate for punishment. And yes, she has had some problems with paying attention in class and I'm sure that I can convince one of her Professors to send her to your office for some infraction. Oh, yes, I almost forgot,” Meredith smiled, “she has this perfect set of lips. Lips that I'm sure you can put to good use. I don't think she is a virgin, but I doubt she has much experience. I'm sure she is an anal virgin, a fact that you would enjoy rectifying."
"Settled. Then it's Justine on Thursday. Make sure she's in my office by three o'clock. That will give us some time to get acquainted before I bring her to the punishment room. I think three-thirty would give me sufficient time.
* * * *
It was almost the weekend, a three-day weekend that would begin tomorrow. She didn't have any special plans; it would just be nice not to have school for three days. Justine sat in the back of the class and listened to them talk.
"Have you seen him, Ashley? He may be older, but he sure looks good to me. I'd love to feel those hands on my body,” Brandy boasted to her friend.
"I hear that he's punishing students,” Ashley added. “Someone said that he caned a girl for not paying attention in class!"
"Caned her? You mean with a cane, a real live cane like they used in England?"
"Yes. I guess he was a Headmaster in England before coming here. Rumor has it that he lost his job over a punishment he inflicted on some girl; seems he still believes in corporal punishment."
Justine leaned closer, not wanting to miss what they were saying. She had heard the same stories, wondering if they were true. While very intelligent, Justine was very meek, not wanting to offend anyone, not wanting to attract attention. She knew most of the answers that the Professors asked, but never raised her hand. Even when she was called on, her mind went blank; leading the Professors to think she didn't know it. She had high SAT tests, yet her college applications were void of extra-curricular activities or any glowing recommendations, making most colleges dismiss her. Her mother, divorced and uneducated, wasn't much help. If it weren't for a high school teacher helping her fill out the application for a scholarship to Hollister, she would probably be serving burgers at McDonald's now. She was one of the scholarship students, which Justine didn't know required that her mother signed over her permission for corporal punishment. Nor did she tell Justine of her decision, assuming it would never be an issue with her good little girl. Little did either of them know that the high school teacher was paid by Hollister to encourage Justine to apply, her background check having shown that she was very submissive and would respond well to corporal punishment.
"God, my pussy is wet just thinking about that,” Brandy responded.
"You mean you would like him to cane you?” Ashley surprised at her best friend's admission.
"No silly, but I sure would like to be draped over his lap and spanked like a naughty little girl. That would be so hot. Imagine him slipping your panties down and spanking your naked ass? God, I would cum all over him."
"You're such a slut, Brandy,” Ashley's shock apparent.
"Come on now, Ashley. I just love strong men, even older men. Boy, I'd love to see what he would do to my body. Not like those silly boys that just want to fuck me for two minutes then roll over. Tell me you wouldn't want to be taken by him!"
"Okay, yeah, maybe. But to be spanked? That turns you on? The pain?"
"If he made me cum I'd let him do anything to me. It's different when you're horny; the pain is almost as good as the pleasure."
"I guess. I do like it when boys twist my nipples. My pussy creams my panties. But he is so much older."
"Yeah, but older men really know what turns you on. They know exactly how to play your body. I bet he could keep me aroused for hours. God, I could masturbate right here thinking about it."
"You're always horny, Brandy,” Ashley laughed at her best friend.
"Tell you what, Ashley. Let's go find out if Headmaster Michael is the real deal."
"What do you mean?"
"I bet we can get Professor Doyle to send us to the Headmaster. The old fart hates me, but is always trying to look down by top. Want to see if the Headmaster will really punish us?"
"Are you kidding? Ashley looked at her strangely.
"I dare you, double dare you,” Brandy taunted her.
"OK, I'll do it. He'll probably just lecture us and make us stay after class."
"Monday, we'll do it Monday. I have a date Friday, wouldn't want to get my ass spanked and have a boy see it."
"Heh, it isn't going to happen, but I'm with you. Let's see how good Headmaster Michael really is."
Justine couldn't believe that someone would actually do a thing like that; to deliberately try to get into trouble in order to get the Headmaster to punish them.
"Justine. Justine!” Professor Ralston's voice rose.
Justine looked up, startled to hear her name being screamed out. She was so intent on listening to Ashley and Brandy that she had blocked out everything else. Her face turned red, all attention now on her as Professor Ralston screamed out her name. “Yes, Sir,” she stammered.
"I asked you a question, Justine. What are you doing? Sleeping in class?” The room broke out in laughter; Justine was embarrassed as everyone looked at her, even Ashley and Brandy.
"Sorry, Sir. What was the question?” God, no, don't ask me a question
"I have asked it twice already, Justine. Maybe Brandy knows the answer. You obviously are not paying attention.” He waited as Brandy answered the question promptly. “Very good, Brandy. See? Even Brandy knew the answer.” The Professor always put her down, even when she was correct. “Justine, see me after class!"
Professor Ralston always seemed to pick on her, Justine thought. Especially this week. It had started on Tuesday when he lectured her about being late. Hell, it was only about thirty seconds after the bell. Then yesterday he passed back the homework, a big fat C in red covered the top of hers. It wasn't as if she got all A's, but a C? She hadn't gotten one since junior high. She tried to talk to him after class, but the line to see him had been long, perhaps others received the same low grade that she had. I'll do better on the next one. I just need this long weekend to catch up.
It had been her last class before the three-day weekend, now he would delay her with a silly lecture. The room emptied
quickly, the other students eager to leave. Justine was staying on campus, most of the other students-the ones with money-went away for the long weekend, the beach, home, anywhere but here. At least she would have some peace and quiet; her roommate had left after lunch.
"I'm sorry, Professor Ralston,” she blurted out before he even looked up from his desk. “It must be the three-day weekend, my brain seems to have gone on vacation early,” she tried to make light of the issue.
"Excuse me, Justine. Were you talking to me?” Professor Ralston looked up from the pile of papers on his desk.
"Nothing, Sir. You asked to see me,” not able to repeat what she said, tongue tied again.
"Yes, Justine. The past couple of weeks, I have had to speak to you in class over numerous issues, from being late or inattentive in class to general poor academic quality. And today you seem to have been in outer space. This is not an acceptable behavior for a young lady from Hollister."
"Yes, Sir. I'll do better."
"I wish I could believe that, but I don't feel that I am reaching you. So I am sending you to see Headmaster Michael."
She looked up at him; her eyes wide open in fear. “No, please don't. I'll get better,” her big eyes begged for a second chance.
"I'm afraid that's not possible. I have already spoken to the Headmaster about your situation. He's expecting you in his office at three o'clock today. And I would make sure you are prompt, not like you are with me."
Justine looked at her watch, two forty-five. “Couldn't it wait for Monday, Sir? It's the three-day weekend."
"Would you like to tell the Headmaster that you can't find the time to meet with him and that he will have to wait until Monday? I don't know what's wrong with you, Justine, but I hope the Headmaster can instill a little discipline in you! Now get out of my sight and into the Headmaster's office before he punishes you for being late."
Justine gathered up her books and ran out of the room. Punish her? Were the rumors true? Does he physically punish girls? No one does that anymore. He is probably just going to lecture me as the last Headmaster did. And, maybe a little detention. She would be out of his office by four, looking forward to a three-day weekend of relaxing. She walked slowly, dreaded the confrontation. Justine wasn't comfortable with other people, especially authoritative ones. His office was only around the corner and she had fifteen minutes to get there.
She paused at his door, caught her breath, and smoothed her skirt down over her hips. She continued to hold her breath and knocked on the door.
"Come in,” came the booming voice behind the door.
She slowly turned the door knob; the large ornate wooden door creaked ominously as she pushed it open. Headmaster Michael was behind the desk, dressed in a white cable knit sweater, the fall weather gave a bit of a chill to the air. His sandy blond hair hung down on his forehead, a five o'clock shadow already appeared on his face. He had a rugged face, sculptured features. He looked to be in his mid-forties, hard to tell the age of older men. Brandy was right; he did have a handsome face. He had not looked up as she walked toward his desk. She glanced at the clock that ticked away on the credenza, an antique that counted time noisily. It rang once, three fifteen. Three fifteen? She looked down at her watch. It said two fifty five, not three fifteen!
She looked over at him, he stared at her.
"The same thing I noticed, Justine. You were to be here at three o'clock. Not three o’ one, or three o’ two. And definitely not three fifteen."
His face clearly displayed his anger. She stammered, “My watch says it's not even three yet."
"Are you saying my grandfather's prize clock is fast?” he shot back, his voice raised in anger.
She couldn't say anything, tongue tied, her head hung down.
"Just as I thought, Justine. No respect for authority. Sit down!"
She quickly sat down; the meeting went from bad to worse.
"Look at me when I talk to you,” his voice gruff and angry.
"Yes, Sir,” she stared into his eyes; saw the anger there.
"You seem to lack any basic discipline, Justine. The reports I've heard from some of your Professors are nothing compared to the insolence I see for myself.” He looked at the clock, almost three thirty, the Board would already be there, waiting, making sure they wouldn't miss a thing. “I think you need some lessons to help you remember. Get up and come with me. Quickly now,” not giving her a chance to even think about defying him. “Leave your books and purse here and take off your jacket, you won't need them. You can get them later when I am finished with you."
"Where are we going, Headmaster Michael?” She was afraid. Could the rumors be true?
"I haven't got time for you to question my every single move. I expect complete obedience from you. Anything else will bring about punishment. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Sir.” Headmaster Michael led her toward the door on the opposite wall, opened it and pushed her through. On the other side was a large room, dark except for a small light in the corner that barely lit the walls.
"Stand in the center of the room."
She stood, trembled in fear, the room made more ominous by its darkness, the dim bulb barely lighting strange-shaped objects covered in some thick material. She caught her reflection in the mirror on the far wall, so large it took up almost the entire area. She heard a click and then the room was bathed in the brightness of ceiling lights. Another click and a spotlight shone down on her from above. She looked up, barely making out another covered object directly over her head. Headmaster Michael moved toward her, her mouth moved, then she quickly remembered his instructions-and his threat.
"You know why you are here, Justine?” He was only inches from her, his hot breath on her face.
She didn't know whether to respond or not, fearing the threat of punishment. She thought for a moment. “To be taught a lesson,” remembering his words.
"That's the first thing you've gotten right. Let's see if you can cooperate.” He picked up the rope hanging down from the object above her, pulled on it, grabbed the heavy cloth that covered it as it slid off, letting it fall to the floor before kicking it over to the side. He saw her looking up in fright as he slowly lowered the object. He knew she wanted to say something, to protest, to ask what it was, anything but silence, but she already feared him. That was good.
She had seen something like this in the history books, during the Puritan times. It looked like a pillory: a large wooden plank with a hole in the center and two smaller ones on the sides. It was connected to the ceiling by two heavy iron chains, one on each end, the plank divided in half, one end hinged, the other had a hasp and a heavy iron lock.
Michael smiled when he saw it. It was even better than he had expected. Most pillories had the arms and neck along side each other. This one had the arm holes up higher, almost a foot higher. It was built for a female. With the arms raised higher, it left her breasts completely unprotected and a clear target. Target for a whip, a tawse or even a paddle. The person doing the whipping would be able to get a good clean swing, able to put more power behind each blow without worrying about hitting her arms instead.
Justine watched it move down from the ceiling, clanking as it moved until it was behind her back.
"Stay there!” He ordered her when she started to move out of the way.
"Please, what are you going to do?” She couldn't keep quiet any longer, fear overtaking her emotions. Most of the students had gone, she was alone with him, and no one expected her for days.
He moved close to her, his face only inches from hers. He put one hand on her hip, felt her flinch from his touch, his hand insistent, pressed deeper into her side, his large hand easily able to grip her slim waist. He moved his other hand to the back of her hair, grabbed a handful of it and yanked her head back hard. Her eyes opened wide in pain, tears formed. “Shhhh, Justine. No one can hear you in here. It's just you and me for the next two days.” He looked into her tear-stained face, her look of fear made his cock
hard. “I'm going to teach you how to obey. When I worked in England, I found that corporal punishment works exceedingly well. You know what corporal punishment is, Justine?” He smiled.
"You mean like spanking?” she sobbed.
"That's only the beginning, Justine. Only the beginning. Now raise up your hands,” he commanded her. “Now, Justine! Raise them up, now!"
He moved behind her. “Stare straight ahead at the mirror.” He opened the pillory device and let one end swing open and out of the way. He moved the other larger piece toward her, adjusting the height the closer he got to Justine. “Hold still while I get this adjusted correctly."
She watched him in the mirror, the wooden pillory moved closer and closer. Would he really put her neck and arms in it? Maybe he was just trying to scare her. Put her in and then, after a few minutes of lecturing her, would let her go. No one would actually do more than that.
Michael swung the pillory closer to her, pushed it until it hit the back of her neck, and noted with pleasure the tiny hairs on the back of her neck stood up. He gripped her waist tighter as he moved it closer, snuggled tight against the back of her neck. “Push your wrists back until they hit the wood,” he made his voice as authoritative as possible, forced her compliance, once he had her bound he would be free to explore her body at will.
She shivered in fear, the heavy wood banged against her neck, afraid of him, her wrists followed, the heavy wood massive against her tiny arms and neck. “Please don't do this to me,” she begged, tears formed in her eyes, afraid of the fate ahead of her.
He moved in front of her, pleased at how she looked. She was dressed in the school outfit; the dark blue sweater seemed to cling to her breasts. With her arms raised they pushed up higher, the tips pointed to the ceiling. Her blue plaid skirt clung to her shapely hips and molded over her tight butt, the blue knee socks highlighted the wide expanse of pink flesh between her knees and where the short skirt barely hid her treasures from his view. He swung the heavy wooden pillory in front of her, slowed down when he got close to her first wrist. “Hold still so I don't pinch your skin. This is very heavy and I don't want to hurt you with it.” He watched her freeze, her arms trembled as he touched her wrist, made sure it was in place, moved the pillory tighter, the wood now in front of her face. He raised her chin into the air. “Hold your head up,” her view cut short, the unknown terrifying to the teenager. He noticed the lining of the neck hole, hard rubber, a small inflatable bulb nearby. Not an antique invention, someone had modified it with newer technologies. Once the neck was inserted and the pillory locked, a few small pumps of the bulb would inflate the industrial strength balloon around the neck, acting both as a cushion to the sensitive throat and larynx but also allow for varying neck sizes-especially for the small female neck-able to tighten and constrict against it. If pumped up too much, it would be possible to cut off or severely limit the supply of air to the victim.