girls, only they were never flogged or humiliated in the classroom, but only in this little private room. And oh, how I loved to fondle those dear, pretty little girls bottoms and cunties were I gave them the cane. I often found excuses to stick a finger into cunt or bottom as it lay across my lap, showing their forms up the better with their legs being well and neatly stockinged, and the kickings they made only added to my lusts. How I did delight to whip their little fat pussies that peeped up so well between the upturned cheeks of their smooth and velvety bottoms and fat thighs. Sometimes they would wet my dress with little jets of pee they could not control in their excitement. Each classroom had one of these special “punishment rooms” for the same purpose, and in each one was a specially constructed “whipping horse” to which culprits were tied hand and foot. Culprits were always blindfolded when went to the “horse', so they could not let an inkling of what was being done to them. I often lifted up my skirt and rub my belly up against their protruding bottoms or cunts that would bulge beneath them. When a girl was very bad, extra punishment was inflicted on her in this way. After her bottom, thighs and slits had been well thrashed, a smooth, round stick, about the thickness of a mans cock, was inserted into her bottom and worked very rapidly in and out while her cunnie got some more caning. Oh, how this treatment made them toss about, how those young, agile bottoms would bounce up and down and pound the horse. They'd cry out, “Oh-O- O-Oh, do take that thing out of my bot-t-o-m, OO!” They would then be left for half an hour in that position, with the stick still stuck in their rumps and a threat that, if, when I returned they had let the stick fall from behind they'd get more beating on them. I'd then leave them and go to the classroom and proceed with the lesson, and go back to the tortured culprits when the half hour of her punishment was up. It ever inspired me with hot passion as I'd open the door and see the first glimpse at the upturned dress of the girl, with her naked bottom still clinging to the stick in the center of it. At times, it would happen she could not hold ft and the stick would fall out, then she'd be treated to another cunt whipping. This was the regular punishment in the school, and while the other teachers did likewise, they never had mentioned or referred to it. taking things, as did the pupils, as a matter of course. Whether the other teachers got a thrill out of it or not I do not know, probably they did, who would not? Then too, the class would know the kind of punishment the culprit was undergoing, and I could see the boys surreptitiously put their hands to their pants to shift the position of their young, stiff cocks, or the girls give a sly rub to their itching bellies It was always a keen sight of pleasure to see the boy or girl emerge from the punishment room into the class room and face the penetrating glances of their mates who devoured them with curious eyes. A girl would come out with her head bent down, blushing scarlet, weeping, more from shame than pain, and, if she was strong willed, she would keep her hands down by her sides no matter how much her bottom or cunt hurt her, if not, she'd put her hands to either place and rub no matter what the class saw, and go back to her desk.
Of course, she would be joked after school by both boys and girls, who'd ask her, tauntingly, “How is your pussy now? Did you piss? How did you like the cane up your bottom? Did you drop it? I'll bet you did and got another good puss puss warming for it?” To which the girl would retort, blushing very deep and pouting as only girls can do – “No, I didn't, there, smartie. Your turn will come soon, just see.”
Some of the worse boys or girls would crowd around her and all hands would try at once to get up her clothes and feel her up, the boys would say, “Her cunt is wet, gosh I got two fingers right up it, see,” and he'd put it to his nose and smell it. – Some would succeed in inserting a finger into her tiny bottom and remark how easy it went in, saying they'd love to put their cocks in there right now, and, “Won't you let me cock your dainty bottom, Susie?” They'd tease and tease her and each other till, as they went through the woods there would be a general fucking match, changing partners. Though all belonged to well-to-do families, they all acted like other children, being roisterous, and culture did not show well in some of them, in others it did.
After about four months close observation I finally selected two I wanted to work on, but, of course, taking only one at amp; time and have him well in hand for a month then taking the other. I set out to watch them without their knowing it. I felt sure both were accustomed to jerking off, for they were bashful, retired, and very refined, so unlike the rest of the boys, and even mingling with the girls to any great extend, but they were both real boys with boys.
The first to be my victim was Harold – He has gone away long ago. He was then just twelve, large for his age, blond curly hair, pretty blue eyes, and a most sweet, angelic pretty face and form. Very mannerly and courteous, with a certain diffidence of manner toward his teacher that showed the sentiment and high regard, but he was shy, timid, not showing the usual boyish initiativeness. I knew there was but one cause for such traits in a boy with his natural endowments.
I decided he was a good subject, and I needed Mm myself, for he often set me on fire unknown to him of course, for, not being able to grasp his lessons well, and having his parents to see me about it more than once, told me not to be afraid to use the usual punishment on him and see if that would help his apathetic brain. I often had him in the whipping room, with pants down, and smacked his lovely shaped, white, smooth bottom with hand or cane, grasping his tool and smooth bags of nuts, which were large for his age, and once, whilst whipping him he spent right into my hand. I made no remark about it at the time. Reaching my conclusions about him, I set about planning. After the class was discharged one day I examined his desk for anything that might show his bend of mind. Down in a corner and carefully covered with a lot of books I found a note – “Dear Miss Mary,” Written twice nothing else, I knew the time was ripe, it remained to be done. First I determined to detain him one day after the class had gone and asked him why he sat dreaming so much, gazing into vacancy? I told him not to build air castles. He blushed a deep red, looking ever so much prettier thus, for I had my hand gently laid on his bottom, patting it in a motherly sort of way, and his pants being very thin and tight, the two pretty globes stood out plain. I saw he made a brave effort to restrain his tears I now put my arm on his shoulder and said, “I am not scolding, I just want you to pick up and study more, I think you may take this desk now in the corner and be more yourself where I can remind you and you will do more and better work, and I don't want to make you conspicuous to the rest, so they won't taunt you.”
He managed to utter “I'd like to sit there, Miss Mary.”
“Very well, then, tomorrow you ask me to when you come in, and when someone else is at the desk,” I said.
That worked out exactly right. You see, I had the desk facing the school, a closed desk at which I sat, flat top, of course, but closed around the base. At my right was a desk table with four slender legs, all open under the table, and that faced Harold's desk which was lower than where I sat by the two steps of the plat-form, so you can begin to imagine my methods.
I watched my prey closely, and caught the day for my experiment. He had been particularly dreamy, and as a result his arithmetic lesson was a bad bungle. I said to him in the class that he failed to catch the solution, and that he should remain after school when I'd go into it more carefully with him. I said this in a dignified way, but graciously, so as not to humble him before the others. I was always ready to help anyone over hard places, and I was fully appreciated by the entire class for this, so that all felt Harold could be most thankful for my pains, for I meant to make a man of him, if I could at all. I said to him, “Now, Harold, to get your mind diverted from a day of close application to study, so that you can come back to your lesson fresh, will you please take down some items I call off, putting the figures in this column?” I leaned back in my chair, put one foot on my knee- I wore no panties and having practiced well before the mirror I knew I was just right for him to see up my clothes and see my cunt, for not having much hair there – just a sort of down – he could see its shape well also my thighs and the under part of my bottom, as I set it well forward on the edge of the chair. My paper, a big sheet, was held so he did not see my face, nor could I see his eyes look up my clothes. I paused at times to let him feast his eyes on me, which I knew he must be doing. After doing all I wanted, I told him to go get a drink and then we would begin with his lesson. The water was in a cooler on the way to the boys toilet. I wore low white sneaks. As time went by and he” did not return I knew the time was ripe, and so I sneaked off to the boys toilet quietly. Sure enough, there he was utterly oblivious to everything, evidently thinking he would not be disturbed there by his teacher above all, and no one else was in the school but he and I.
There he stood his pants down to his knees, one hand on I his bottom, the other jerking violently a very nice sized boy's cock. I took the scene in well before saying in a very, very surprised tone “HAROLD!”
He stopped as if petrified. His mouth opened, his jaw dropped, he stuttered in trying to say something, blushing, he let his tears flow freely. He did not, or could not even think of pulling up his pants, or covering his cock which now became limp and hung down by his smooth balls in a thick coil, he was too dumb-founded to know what to do. I went to him, put one arm around his neck, the other I placed gently on the right cheek of his glorious bottom, and crooned to him in a motherly way, “There, there, don't cry so, tell Miss Mary all about it, and be sure, you dear boy, no one shall ever know anything about it. It is very harmful to you, and it is the chief reason for your
