Message-ID: <20952asstr$942268201@assm.asstr-mirror.org> X-Original-Message-ID: <000501bf2a3f$772ce380$bd633ad8@kipling> From: "Jordan Shelbourne" Subject: {ASSM} {GALAGO} The Mark of Cane (Jordan Shelbourne) MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="iso-8859-1" Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit X-Priority: 3 X-MSMail-Priority: Normal X-MimeOLE: Produced By Microsoft MimeOLE V4.72.2106.4 Date: Wed, 10 Nov 1999 16:10:01 -0500 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: assm-admin THE MARK OF CANE Copyright 1999 Jordan Shelbourne For B., who inspired it and contributed to it, and for R., whose birthday made me finish it. There was nearly total silence in the classroom, the way the headmistress liked it. It wasn't total; unfortunately, the headmistress couldn't arrange for total control. Outside these walls, the world still hummed, honked, and thrummed along, and some tiny fraction of that penetrated the windows and walls. Inside these walls, there was only the scratch of pencils on paper as the students worked on their tests. She walked along the aisles, her cane an extension of her hand, swinging it almost jauntily. She didn't need the cane to walk, not at all; she needed it for discipline. In her experience, students were raw, untamed little animals at the beck and call of their nasty hormones, and they had to be curbed. Restrained. She could do it. She had gained control over her own hormones at great cost, and could help them. She would help them; she would _make_ them into something besides rutting savages. She noticed the Lampwick boy's head was at the wrong angle. He was clearly looking elsewhere than his paper; probably at that Alyssa West girl. The West girl was clearly trouble, a full-figured Lilith placed in the headmistress' classroom to test her. The boys called her "Alyssa Chest," and the headmistress knew the effects of large breasts on young boys. One might as well lay back naked As she strode across the back of the room and up to the Lampwick boy, she had to admit she might have gone easy on him in the past because deep down, she found him...attractive. Arousing. She detested herself for this; and vowed to make an example of him. So they would all know that she could not be swayed from her course. From the proper course. "Kenneth," she said, and her voice cracked the quiet like a cannon shot over water. The boy jerked his head up and she felt some twinge inside her at the sight of the clean lines of his jaw and neck and his muscular shoulders. She ignored that twinge. "Were you copying Alyssa's paper?" She did not look at him as she strode past him but continued to talk with the attitude of ingrained command. "Come over here THIS INSTANT!" Not until she heard him move did she turn to look. He was rising slowly, his pink tongue wetting his full lips, and she hardened herself to this chore. She tapped the end of the cane once against the floor and he moved more quickly, standing before her. "In this class, you do your own work, Kenneth. You do not copy someone else's work." "But m--" "--I did not ask you to speak!" She punctuated this with another rap on the floor. She looked at him silently until he became uneasy. The breathing of the students became synchronized as they waited, until they were one giant voyeuristic beast. "Drop your trousers." He opened his mouth to speak but she rapped her cane once more against the floor. Blushing, he unbuckled his trousers and they fell to the floor. He was wearing jockey shorts as so many boys did, though they flattered only a few: the tight sinewy ones like this lad. She lifted the cane and tapped him on one clothed hip. He looked at her, blushing even deeper now, and she nodded. He swallowed audibly and pushed down his briefs. His penis was a pleasant size -- and she quickly derailed that train of thought. That was not why she was doing this. "Grab your ankles," she said quietly. While he was bent over, several of the girls giggled -- until the headmistress looked at them. They quieted, well aware that they could be standing beside Kenneth. She pulled her chair from behind her desk and thought for a moment about where to set it. She wanted to make an example of him, so she set it so everyone could see the cane swatting his bottom, and so they could see the displeasure on her face. She set the chair so she was facing them, and had him bend forward. "Across my knees," she told him after she sat down. "Towards me, like that." Unfortunately, that put his face right in her crotch. If she happened to get aroused, he'd be there, inhaling the scent. That almost gave her pause...but the punishment was important, and she would be able to control herself. She must. The boy's hands were still on his ankles. His body was hot where it touched her thighs. Very hot, it seemed to her; perhaps the lad had a fever or something. She began to cane him, her arm high, each stroke hitting one buttock with a flat sound; she alternated left and right, and every stroke thrust his face into her. She could see the cheeks of his bottom grow red, to match the redness on his face. She glanced down at his face and could see the crystal glitter of tears unshed. And then: He got aroused. Even through the pain and humiliation, he got aroused. Obviously aroused. His penis stretched along his belly, a rigid rod of flesh. There were titters from the rest of the class. She scowled. How could she maintain discipline under those sorts of conditions? She murmured, "I'll have to take care of that before we can go on with the punishment. Lift up your head. Gently." She looked up at the class. "--I expect the rest of you to continue with the test!" "I'm sorry, Headmistress," the boy muttered, "you smell so wonderful." She bit her lip. Couldn't really fault him for that, could she? She lifted her skirt -- good thing she wasn't wearing panties today. She could feel his cheeks brush the tops of her stockings. Now let him nibble. And lick. And suck. Especially suck, right there, on her button. She let the feelings swirl and build inside her. She could feel her orgasm rising, but that wasn't the point of this exercise, was it? Her lip slipped from between her teeth and she inhaled deeply, smelling his clean scent, her own arousal. Well, all right, one little orgasm wouldn't hurt. The rest of the class had gone silent. He'd taken his hands off his ankles. Now he could stroke the soft tender flesh of her thighs, the sensitive skin of her perineum, the stiff lips of her cunt. Two fingers slipped inside her. So wet. So wet. She sighed for a moment, then realized that a Headmistress does not sigh. She looked around, but the class was studiously bent over their tests. One of his slick fingers played around her anus and slipped inside. She suppressed her gasp and it became a most unHeadmistress-like hiccough. He opened his mouth wide and began to fuck her with his tongue. The index finger of his other hand was busy on her button. She held her head rigid. She would not show weakness before the class. Her orgasm was a wave against her walls. She trembled, ever so slightly, and the class never knew. But she knew. And he knew; her body clutched him tightly. Her mouth wide open, she breathed deeply, as silently as she could; she could feel sweat: along her hairline, down the back of her neck, trickling from her armpits, and trickling between her breasts. When she spoke, her voice was husky. "Enough of that nonsense. Let's remove that impediment to your punishment." His murmured, "Yes, ma'am," held an undertone of sauciness. He knew; oh, yes, he knew. "Come here," she said, and she drew his body up against hers. His stiff cock poked the bunched folds of her skirt around her waist. "Not there," she said, and took hold of it. It was hot in her hands, hot and hard and smooth, and she thought it would burn her to touch it. She guided it to her entrance and said, "There. Now push." "Yes, ma'am." He was just large enough and the angle was not quite right -- it took him several thrusts and she gasped with each one. On his last thrust, his pelvis bumped her clitoris, sparking her. He began to pump. The sweet fullness of each thrust was punctuated by that clitoral spark, that electric ratchet that pulled her to orgasm again. She placed her hands on his hips so she could guide his rhythm, but they were in synchronization right now: he pushed as she pushed, striving for that release. She rather hoped he would not come too soon, because she was very close right now, too close to want to stop, too close to even want to take the saucy smile off his face. But the boy groaned and grunted and then pushed _hard_ several hard pushes too soon and she felt him tighten and swell inside her. She felt certain she could feel his hot seed inside him as he pushed again and again bringing her to the brink... And then he sagged, finished. Without a thought she smacked him smartly on one buttock. He started, rubbing against her, and she looked sternly at him. All sauciness vanished as he realized that because she was not done yet, he was not done. He swallowed then, and began to pump again, striving to keep himself hard longer, to keep himself hard long enough. She clutched his firm buttocks in her hands and used him like a giant toy. Only a few thrusts were necessary to regain lost ground, and then she was at the brink again, pulling him tighter. She was dimly aware of the wide eyes of the other students, girls and boys astounded that there could be something after he came. His cock was still large enough, hard enough, and with a soft sigh, she came again. Her knees buckled, she fell off his rapidly-softening penis, down onto her chair. There was silence in the room. She regained herself enough to snap, "What are you staring at? Don't you have tests to finish?" She felt better, then. Enjoying the warmth in her belly, she said, "And you --Alyssa! You should not have allowed him to copy your test. Detention for you." The girl jerked as if struck and then managed a demure look. "Yes, headmistress." The girl's lower lip was soft and red and wet; her eyes were dark and huge. Her manner was impudent. Kenneth managed a half-smile. She smoothed her skirt over her thighs, conscious of the wetness seeping from them, and said, "Yes?" His smile faltered. "I, uh, I'm glad my punishment is over." "You?" She snorted. "Don't be silly. You've failed the test. The rest is just details." Dejected, he pulled up his trousers and walked back to his chair. "I'll see both of you after class," she said. She was much better at hiding her delight than they were. -- If you enjoyed this work, take a moment to email the author. Your comments are their only payment. Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+ | | | | ASSM Archive site +-----------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | | --- | +--------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | This newsgroup is moderated by ASSTR, an entity supported by donations. | | If you enjoy this newsgroup, please consider making a donation to help | | Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository keep providing this free service for you.| | Donations: | \_________________________________________________________________________/