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That idea she needs to dispel. Ashley nods. She understands. She understands only too well. Jarman has a brutal temper when provoked, a reputation for being vindictive.

Jarman, by you. He places his hand on her right buttock, atop the outline of a partial handprint. Not by some old fart like me.

Jarman looks her up from her rear end. Sound ricochets off the white block walls and Jarman hits her again and Ashley loses her composure.

Responsibility and moral judgment. Something you entirely lack. Her eyes are drawn down to narrow slits. He moves farther to his left and Ashley watches in apprehension over her shoulder.

Tears leak down her face. What am I doing! She thinks. How much do you intend to give me! I have to sit dow-ouwn! His breathing and heart rate are elevated and he has an erection.

It pushes out the front his trousers. Either way, sitting down will be a problem you can worry about all week, my little Jewish Princess.

So I can stay—AY out sick? He releases two more volleys on her left cheek and two more land on her right, making Ashley squeal.

Have a—Ow! His expression is serious. No more garters, no stockings, no tiny miniskirts and high heels. Ashley sniffles, rubs under her nose and across both cheeks.

God, her tail stings! Rubbing it carefully, she nods, afraid to speak lest a hiccup interrupt her words.

She always hiccups when crying. Now do me a favor and take off those ridiculous clothes. Still sniffling, Ashley releases the two catches holding the top of each nylon, removes her shoes, and slides the nylons down.

She is seriously embarrassed, if not quite humiliated. Jarman, she thought, would enjoy her this way. Ashley nods and he stands aside to let her off the desk.

Suddenly uncomfortable with her bare lower half, Ashley bends down and picks up the bag. Sitting it on the closest desk, she removes her white Nikes and white ankle socks, then hurriedly puts them on.

She does this standing, her back to Mr. Jarman, not letting him see her crotch. He lifts her by the waist onto the desktop. She squirms, uncomfortably.

Jarman leans forward. Ashley blinks again. I look like a whore? Garters and stockings are the current fad, sexy and cool.

The guys just love it. Ashley tells him so. He touches her knee. Ashley looks down her body, down her long bare legs.

Ashley says nothing. Her heart pounds her chest wall. Ashley looks down. Jarman has spread her legs enough for cool air to sneak between her open lips.

Her head swims. Her legs are opened further still. Ashley gulps loudly, emitting a sharp click from her gullet. She tries to speak but Jarman kisses her again and slips a finger between her legs, going all the way inside.

Sitting frozen, staring wide-eyed at his face, her hands clutching the edge of the desk, Ashley suddenly melts into him and his kiss. She is cross-eyed, finding it difficult to breath and blinking in confusion.

Somehow, Mr. It makes her shudder. Jarman smiles. He is the first. She nods. Virginity is—was—a distinction she alone holds amongst her friends.

No male has ever seen her bottom bare, much less put anything inside. Then she grins hugely. Jarman looks gives her a disapproving look.

Ashley pouts. At times, Ashley can be fatally seductive. Jarman indicates her backpack. And something a little more appropriate than this?

And my shorts, of course. You want me to put them on? He helps her off the desk. If someone had suggested to Ashley she might be putting her school clothes back on this evening, she would have laughed.

Now, peeking self-consciously over her shoulder, she steps into her white underwear and pulls them to her waist. Then she pulls down the miniskirt and sets it aside, and after removing her white shorts and shaking them out, steps into them.

She adjusts herself, thinking, this is so crazy! Jarman takes her hand. Jarman mouth turns up in an mischievous grin. Her tail hurts enough as it is and she tries a demure, conciliatory smile.

Jarman crooks a finger, indicates the desktop beside the one holding her backpack. She deserves to be thoroughly beaten- -she admits that—secured to a wooden stock and flailed bare-bottomed in front of the whole campus.

With news reporters in attendance. Still, she bites her thumbnail and shakes her head. She is led to the wooden desk.

Ashley places herself on the table from the hips up, bottom left in jeopardy. A hundred and eighty degree heat burns her face.

She slips both thumbs inside the waistband and slides down her shorts to just above the knee. Knowing hesitation will only make matters worse, she then removes her panties in the same way and her bottom is again gloriously bare.

Jarman laughs again. Jarman spanks her again, then a third time, then again and again and Ashley struggles to get off the table. Held her fast with a hand in the small of her back, Jarman beats her.

Jarman keeps her tight to the table. Suddenly he stops and the silence is almost deafening. Each new blow shoots off a reverberation of sound that echoes up and down the classroom, down the corridors, and all the way from one end of the building to the other.

Jarman continues her spanking and this surpasses any spanking Ashley has ever received. Possibly any five.

The pain radiates from her bottom and into her legs and back, through her internal organs. Her vagina feels it, as does her uterus, and her bowels.

Her belly cramps. She lets off a series of explosive farts, unable to hold them in and smells herself and wants to die.

Worse, though she is wailing and pleading and crying with all her might, her torment is getting worse. Jarman places each hit directly on one cheek, making sure the blow is centered, then hits the other.

Her ears ring from the impacts. He shakes his right hand. I never knew spanking could be so painful. Ashley screams, kicks her feet trying to land a blow to his groin, bounces on the table.

Jarman continues to pant. Ashley understands immediately. Jarman laughs and Ashley kicks and struggles and weeps incredibly hot tears.

Her nose pours out mucous and urine has escaped her bladder. She is wet down the inside of both thighs. Getting words through her brain is impossible.

Her whole universe has collapsed to the shape of her livid bottom. It burns like a hot plate. He wishes it were himself providing the care.

Then he gently spreads her cheeks, exposing the only part of her bottom not scarlet with pain. Her anus. Then he penetrates her, inserting his middle finger fully inside.

Ashley groans, places her forehead on the cool wood of the table and tightens her anus. It begins to gently explore.

Jarman moves behind her and Ashley hears his zipper come down. She raises her head and looks to the ceiling for guidance.

Then a thick warm mass presses against her anus and her anus gives way and she grips the side of the table and waits for what she receives next.

To her surprise, Jarman removes her shoes. Ashley groans. Ashley throws back her head, grimacing. A hot curling iron has invaded her ass.

She reaches back desperately and tries to push Jarman away, but Jarman grasps her wrists and holds her immobile. Only halfway in, blood pumps through it at incredible pressure, each heartbeat causing a corresponding thud.

She is deliciously hot and tight. He grins at her protestations. No student has ever caused more grief that Ashley Shirer.

But Jarman is not a brutal man and, in truth, his desire for Ashley is nearly as strong as his anger. He relents and lets her anus adjust. Ashley grimaces at a spasm.

She rests her head on the table. The pain, finally, is beginning to ease. Jarman, meanwhile, has dropped his underwear and pants. He raises her higher, making his penis go straight up and down.

She grips the legs of the desk so tightly her arms shake and a strong tremble racks her whole body. Her anus spasms around his cock. He has settled deeper into her now, more than half his length.

The shear power of arousal has his testicles wrapped tight to his shaft and little separates him from climax. Ashley grunts as more of her rectum is filled.

Jarman bottoms out. The taut ring of muscle grips him with feverish, almost painful intensity. His scrotum nestles against her baby soft lips.

He keeps himself still. He feels her slightly relax. She is beginning to respond to his attention. Being done up the butt was not on her agenda tonight she never even considered anal sex with Jarman , yet Jarman inside her is not all that bad.

Once you get around the pain. And despite her horrifically demeaning posture, Ashley is quite turned on. Maybe what her friend Rachel said was true: Girls are happiest when controlled and told what to do.

Her anus spasms and Ashley moans. She pushes upward, until Jarman bottoms out again, then shudders violently. Ashley scrapes hair away from her face and shudders.

Her anus, relaxing at last, grips and relaxes, sucking Jarman like a hungry mouth. Ashley moans. Hell, no! Time and time again, sex with a responsive partner was what kept cavemen coming back.

He is now pistoning up and down in her bottom with his entire length, bottoming out and then withdrawing until a mere half an inch remains.

Occasionally, he comes out entirely, leaving her open. When he reenters, the air inside becomes compressed and Ashley loudly farts.

Jarman laughs. He is arrayed over her so that every plunge fills her completely, every pull upward leaves her bottom empty and agape.

Her tail squeaks, burps and farts incessantly, making Jarman laugh harder. Ashley wants to find a deep hole and crawl in. My knees are killing me!

Jarman screws her several moments longer, then stops. He thinks for a moment, remembers Mrs. Burrows and her patchwork quilt.

Ashley remains open, her rectum a soft pink well. Jarman impulsively blows in the opening, and Ashley jerks.

Her anus is a puckered little mouth, and Jarman inserts his finger just as the little mouth sucks shut. Ashley, her rectum undergoing a massive and painful convulsion, nods.

Jarman removes his finger and before Ashley can react, she finds the finger in her mouth. From the hallway he issues another command.

All of it! Miffed and confused, Ashley looks about, her mouth open. The taste makes her gag. Opening her backpack, she removes a small packet of tissues, uses them to wipe her tongue.

She shivers again. She has yet to close her mouth. Tired of her hair hanging about, Ashley pulls it into a ball on top of her head and, retrieving an elastic band from her backpack, hastily secures it.

Her bangs fall over her forehead in total disarray. Irritated, she blows them back. She is in serious pain, both from her spanking and the brutal attack on her rectum.

The room says nothing back. First kicking out of her shorts, Ashley pulls out her pleated uniform skirt, then shakes loose the wrinkles and puts it on.

Then she raises her panties, snugging them carefully about her waist. She changes out of the white blouse and into her button down uniform shirt, carefully looping the tie around her neck and tying it, making sure it lays neatly below the collar.

As a finishing touch, she ties a ribbon around the elastic band in her hair. She waits. Throwing a small, silent fit, Ashley digs her flats and white anklets out of the bag.

This is getting ridiculous! Starting over from scratch? Then Ashley stops, realizing this is exactly right. She curses softly—Jarman is putting her through it again.

When he reenters the classroom, Jarman carries a large, patchwork quilt. His huge erection guides the way. Burrows, next door. It is pink and blue and very feminine.

Jarman laughs, smoothes the quilt and stands back. He looks at Ashley with an expectant grin. His grin widens. Ashley backs away, bumping the desk.

Jarman moves forward, trapping Ashley against the desk. His eight-inch long cock could it have grown even longer?

His hand slides inside, finds her right breast, caresses it. Ashley shivers. He tries to kiss her, but alarmed, Ashley turns away.

Taking her chin with his fingertips, Jarman gently returns her mouth, touches her lips again. The hand on her right breast is now under her brassiere and Ashley feels a warmth starting to spread between her legs.

She breathes heavily. Her brassiere is above her breasts, fingertips twirling her nipples into painful little erections.

His left hand is down the back of her panties. You understand? Jarman backs away, leaving Ashley red-faced and flustered. Her breasts are bare and so is her labia.

Ashley pushes back her bangs. Ashley watches him examine her breasts. They have large, very hard nipples, and being examined so closely makes them tingle and ache.

Ashley cannot remember ever being so hard. It makes her fidget. Jarman has donned his vest and his dark jacket.

He nods, though reluctantly. Ashley is just replacing her brassiere. It is a constant cause of worry and chagrin.

The compliment makes Ashley blush even harder. Jarman laughs and closes the top button on his coat. He smoothes the jacket while Ashley adjusts her brassiere, then redoes the buttons on her blouse.

She looks at the floor, raises her panties and lowers the back of her skirt. Even fully dressed, she feels disheveled. Her nipples protrude startlingly through the front of her blouse.

To Jarman, she is absolutely gorgeous. Ashley nods, then shakes her head. Even Laura has not tried anal sex.

Ashley shudders. Deliciously horrid, Laura said. But that was her vaginal juice, not what Jarman intended for Ashley.

Still looking at the floor, she shakes her head no. Jarman laughs and nods his head. Oh, please tell me you kidding!

Brice is one of her favorite people in the whole world. Ashley gulps. It must be true, then. What in the world has she gotten herself into?

Anal sex I mean. Jarman kisses the tip of her nose. Remember, he signed the punishment form. Jarman looks at her askance. When he last took you over his knee?

In front of your friends? She was not thirteen, but fifteen. People who never had cause to see her bare behind—especially her younger brothers, whose eyes Ashley still has a hard time meeting—watched Ashley suffer humiliation no teen should endure.

And it was not strictly for disciplinary reasons, either, that Ashley knew. Taken over the knee at fifteen is beyond the normal bounds of punishment.

In fact, she thought it was child molestation. Jarman backs away. What happens the rest of the night is between you and I, two consenting adults.

And you, by your own admission, came here of your own free will. Five minutes later, Ashley sits alone at a desk not her own desk, which is third from the front in the adjacent row , completing her English Lit homework.

She is nervous, barely able to write, much less concentrate on Alexander Dumas. She wants to go home. She wants to make love.

Mostly she thinks of Mrs. Brice and whether Jarman is telling the truth. Without realizing she intends to do this, Ashley writes down the following: I am no longer a virgin.

Rather startled, wondering why she just ruined half a page of composition, Ashley underlines the words. Then again.

On the line below, she asks: Am I happy about this? Her bowels rumble ominously, and sharp cramps and a feeling of nausea signal danger.

She shifts uncomfortably, grimaces. As horrible as this seems, she can imagine it happening. Jarman is that weird.

Can I do this? I want to run away, go home, hide in my bedroom and lock the door. But home is five hours away, and the dorm is not like home.

Jarman wants me and I led him on. Is he right? Am I secretly obsessed with Dad? Wanting him to spank me again and do those other things?

Face it Ash—you liked it. You goaded him, pushed him to the limit to see his anger, tried to make him skirt the edge.

Is that spelled correctly? A bad sin. And Dad is not a bad man. Ashley leans back, then to one side, trying to ignore the abdominal cramps.

How does anyone get used to this, she wonders, having your ass made a butter churn. Despite her pain, the image conjures a smile.

A sardonic smile. I must have looked pretty ludicrous, she imagines, ass in the air, a telephone pole pumping in and out. She feels her face warm.

Looking at the huge expanse of windows on her left, at the dark and looming building across the way, Ashley imagines someone watching.

The windows are filmed, of course, mirrored to keep out the afternoon sun. Ashley wonders if it works the same way at night.

Getting up, she crosses the short distance to the windows and places her hands against one of the panes. She peers between them.

In fact the adjacent building is not dark. The windows of the first floor classrooms are lit, and Ashley can see the a janitorial crew working inside.

She realizes she too can be seen. She pulls back in alarm, wondering just how long before dark.

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