The arrangement itself was simple enough; Monday, Wednesday and Friday. The dress a little more than simple and not readily explained away, but she managed easily enough. It wasn’t everyday that the world would see a fully-grown woman sporting a school-girl uniform and although her trench coat hid it well, there were still the perfectly polished, tell tale Mary-Jane’s to leave a hint.

She stood looking up at the row of third floor offices knowing that somewhere he was watching her. It was almost a ritual, every time since the first time she would stand in the same spot looking up, feeling for a moment like she should run and then she would exhale and force herself inside.

Opening the door to the office suites and into the ‘classroom’, it was small with one desk for the teacher and a few student desks, perfectly rowed and she smiled at the fact that nothing had changed, everything was just as she had left it the Friday before. Her chair hung upside down on her desk and after hanging her coat on the appropriate hook she pulled it down.

Before sitting she inspected her clothing and her posture; seams straight, everything aligned, crisp white panties, under symmetrical garters as she slipped into the chair, tall posture, knees together, Mary-Jane’s flat on the floor and skirt hanging over the seat at all times, the cold of the fiberglass chair shocked the skin, but the skirt was to remain un-crumpled.

She heard the sound of footsteps familiar approaching the tiny class, she sat straighter, making sure her posture wasn’t in the least slouched when he entered. She remained silent, with eyes forward, not flinching even a millimeter as he paused for a moment looking at her shoes before continuing to his desk at the front of the room.

She swallowed the smile she could feel building. This was neither the time nor the place to relish a victory. Once and only once he’d gotten to reprimand her for scuffed shoes. Once was all she needed ensuring the mistake would not happen again.

Neither knew the others real name and neither had a need to know. This was an arrangement that was first made on the internet and for them at least screen names would suffice. To him she was merely Emily and to her, he was Mr. Burrows. Student and teacher, nothing less, but they both knew they weren’t in it for the lesser, they both were in it for so much more.

Their first two meetings were nothing more than the discussion of limits, the third and every one after, each in their role with no communication between them on the off days.

His brow looked worried, almost scornful as he shuffled papers about in his briefcase. Once he paused he stood, with open book in hand, approached and dropped the book onto the desk before her.

"Six questions, five minutes, go." He returned to his seat, watching the clock on the wall.

"Christ!" she thought, math was certainly not her strong suit as a flush of dew flowed over her. She begged the gods to let her get them right, not one mistake, not this time.

"Time's up Emily bring the sheet to me."

She rose with grace the whole time begging whatever higher power was watching her to allow her the victory, but it was not to be. She held her breath as she saw red pen marking her errors. Surely she hadn’t done that poorly, surely there had been at least a slight improvement.

"Absolute garbage," He commented as he held the paper out for her to examine, "I’d have thought that you would have studied harder over the weekend Emily. This will not do." He directed her to the corner and instructed her to remain there until he returned.

She knew this routine. He would send her to the corner, leave the room and watch her through the window to make sure she didn’t try to look. Soon he would come back in and declare that he had called her parents and been given carte-blanche to rectify the situation as he saw fit
.
She could feel her insides changing, the wondering was almost always the hardest part, and what would his method be this time; an over the knee spanking, ruler, the dreaded strap? Cautiously she slipped her hand under her skirt and along the elastic leg of her panty. She knew she would be wet, but even she was surprised at exactly how wet she was. She was about to seek out her clit under the now quickly dampening white cotton when the sound of voices made her jump.

Voices. Who else was there? Perhaps a misguided deliveryman in the wrong office? She resumed her position in the corner knowing that he would be returning soon. There was no way he would let an outsider catch them at play.
The door to the room swung open and Emily heard two sets of feet coming at her. Mr. Burrows grabbed her by the arm and spun her round.

"This is the one I was telling you about. I am at a loss at what to do with her. She seems not to care about her academics and is consumed with sins of the flesh."

The other man, taller than Mr. Burrows, broader at the shoulder and thicker through, looked at her with disgust. "Is this true?"

Mr. Burrows spoke again, "There has been absolutely no improvement in her studies at all and she’s afflicted with horrible perversion."

Emily retorted quite rudely, "That is NOT true! I do study! I’m just not good at math! I’m not a pervert either!"

"You’re not?" he questioned grabbing hold of the hand that had just moments before been prodding inside her panties, pulling it up and holding it out to the other man, "tell me what you think as headmaster?"

The new man leaned in and smelled the sex on her hand, frowning at her the whole time, "And a liar too I see, bring her to the front and we’ll see about breaking at least one of her bad habits today."

Emily’s insides wretched, they hadn’t discussed allowing others into the ‘class’, they certainly hadn’t discussed others reprimanding her and at the same time she found it all intoxicating. The headmaster’s touch caused her to shudder as he pushed her to a bend over Mr. Burrows’ desk "Go round and hold her steady."

He obeyed promptly moving round and grasping Emily’s arms, pushing them down into the desk immobilizing her as the headmaster spoke again, "Now how many will be enough do you think?"

Mr. Burrows thought for a moment as he looked down at the growing more terrified by the second Emily, "Three wrong sums times four would be how many Emily?"

"Twelve Sir," She whispered out through a drying throat. She’d never received twelve of anything from Mr. Burrows and now she was about to get that from someone who didn’t know her or her tolerance level. Had Mr. Burrows told him her safe word? Would he care if she used it? Her head swooned.

"Twelve it is plus three as a deterrent to perversion, how many Emily?"

Emily gasped, "Fifteen Sir."

The headmaster broke in, "Fifteen it is then." He slid her skirt crumpling it about her waist and pulled her panties down to knees leaving her painfully exposed to him, the evidence of her anticipation glistening at him, but he never touched her. She heard the familiar clicking of a briefcase lock, unfamiliar clicking as the headmaster moved about the room, and then an eerie silence loomed on the air.

She waited for some signal, some sign, then came the sound of cutting air and before she could really equate the noise to anything familiar a seeking heat ripped through her backside. Four strokes each placed across her ass with perfect precision. She choked back tears and just as she was allowing herself to breathe another attack, this time three, none marking a spot that was already on fire.

"God no, I can’t take it! Please!" She squealed as another two hit, one repeating on the mark of the first strike, the second and upward thrust of the cane where ass met thigh. One more harder, more violent than the one’s before hit right across the center of her mound and as she gasped in air and choked back tears she had for the first time thought about wording out, but something stopped her. Was it that she didn’t want to embarrass Mr. Burrows or was it that she didn’t want to embarrass herself?

A sudden peace flowed over her as she felt her dampness trickle, another hard thwack and she pulled back a bit, Mr. Burrows grip firm and hindering her movement. Another and she was on her toes almost inviting the next strike as it fell. She could feel the welts forming on her fired skin.

"Three more," The headmaster noted before coming down twice with cat like quickness. Emily was gone, lost somewhere between her loathing the punishment and the loving the man who instituted it. Lost between the heat in her ass and the want in her sex, she succumbed as the last strike fell causing her to scream out.

The clicking of the cane being retracted did nothing to offer her solace as she lay in the exact position she was first put. Mr. Burrows knew he didn’t have to restrain her any longer.

The headmaster came round the desk unzipped his trousers and penetrated her still panting mouth. She didn’t fight him, even if she’d wanted to her strength was gone. Before too long he was filling her tiny throat with his seed and Emily on pure instinct drank it all, thanking him breathlessly as his coldly placed his cock back into his trousers, zipped them and took his leave.

Mr. Burrows came round the back of the desk to inspect the work of the headmaster and even he was a bit taken aback at the stripes forming in hues of deep red and dark blue on the backside of the girl.

Something about the sight stirred him as he traced his fingers over the stinging flesh, his prick stiffened as Emily whimpered lowly.

Much in the cold fashion of his mentor he mounted her, taking what pleasure he could from the whining she did under his weight, his thrusting brining back memory of the cane. Pulling from her he allowed his jizz to coat the now very present welts; he pulled Emily’s panties up over the mess of red lines and white goo before helping to her feet.

He aided her in getting her coat on and as he escorted her to the door flatly stated, "I trust next week there will be an improvement in your math."