Another day at the office...(part one)

Flipping through the day’s set of detention slips, I put my feet on my desk, resting for a moment from a full day of disciplinary duties. Today was especially tiring, as I performed a routine locker check that always reveals the depth of depravity that surrounds me. That, coupled with the revelation that two teachers had been caught "talking closely" in a corner of the gymnasium, and a fight had broken out in the hallway.

It is always exasperating to have to discipline one's peers, but the teachers were quite apologetic in fear of their jobs. As they were both female, I expressed my dismay through the administration of an enthusiastic paddling, in which I implored Satan to be released from their buttocks. I then issued a warning and commanded they acknowledge their shameful act to the vicar, who has more experience in these matters than I.

The female students who had started a fight in the hallway had almost ripped each other's clothes to pieces in their passionate quarrel. The nurse had to be called, and one of the girl's skirts was completely ripped off. I ordered them all into my office, regardless of their disheveled state, and made them apologize and shake hands before I gave each of them ten swift strokes with my rattan cane. I then ordered them to leave my presence to ponder the futility of their violence, detention slips in hand. Sniffling and rubbing their rosy red hindquarters, I believe they left with a renewed sense of what it means to be a lady.

Now, finally able to rest, I glance over at my wall of implements and smile. The cane sits jauntily in it’s receptacle, almost begging to be picked up in order exert yet more of it's influence. I finger it lightly, then grab it and swipe it through the air to hear it whistle. A small giggle escapes my lips. Oh, but there is still more work to be done! I button my blouse up to the top, straighten my skirt, and fix any stray wisps of hair away from my face as I remember that Thomas, a new student, has still to walk through my door. I would politely describe him as "obedience challenged", as he has only been in my charge for two weeks, but has already been tardy three times, and has fallen asleep during his English class. Recalling these infractions, I swipe the cane three more times. Clearing my throat, I lean on my desk and call him in.

“Good afternoon, Thomas.”

“Hi, Ms. Wolfe.”

“Sit down.” I point with the cane to a small chair, which I keep across from my desk. The height of it makes him look more diminutive than a normal one might. I loom over him, a good four feet, arms folded. “Do you know why you’re here?”

“No, I have no idea.”

“Really? You’ve absolutely no notion of why you would be called down to my office.” I demand, rather than ask.

“No, ma’am.”

“Perhaps you could be induced to remember if I told you that I performed a routine locker check today.”

“No, ma’am, I have no idea how my locker contents could get me in trouble, ma’am.”

“Are you telling me that you are not aware of the contents of your own locker?”

“No, ma’am.”

My patience is wearing thin. He has been given a chance to confess, which he refuses to take. Does he really think he can get away with such insolence? I grab his jaw, perhaps a little harder than he would expect.

“Don’t play games with me, Thomas.”

He squirms, trying to break free of my grip. His eyes flash with fear. I look down at him, raising one eyebrow, and bringing my face closer to his. He is an audacious little thing, and doesn’t seem to know quite what he’s gotten himself into.

“There’s nothing bad in my locker ma’am, if there is, it was put in there by someone else, I swear, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I sense him turning scenarios and lies over in his mind, trying to decide on an alibi. I stare into his eyes. He is my prey. He swallows, and can’t hold my gaze. I know he is lying. I walk behind him, slowly, deliberately. I put both hands on his shoulders, rubbing them softly, and then taking hold of them. I whisper in his ear, “Thomas, don’t dig yourself deeper than you already have.” I make sure that my voice is as soft as my caresses, and that my lips lightly touch the lobe of his ear, almost a kiss.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Wolfe, I honestly don’t know why I’m here.”

He’s made the decision to withold information, and therefore to disrespect me. Obviously, he needs to be introduced to my special “behavioral modification techniques”. I tell him to strip.

“What?” he says.

“You heard me. Do it now.”

“This is highly unorthodox, ma’am.”

I take the herbal contraband out of my desk and hold it in front of his face. “Is that so? Would you rather I call the police? Surely they would not tolerate such substances being brought to school. In fact, I doubt they would have any reservations about recommending you to a juvenile detention center.” His face becomes more serious as he realizes the gravity of his situation. “I see that you recognize the contents. Undress. Now.” It makes me smile to watch him take his clothes off hurriedly, as if they were burning him. He undresses to reveal his deliciously lithe body, sinewy and alive with a faint, glistening glow all over him. His odor wafts toward me, and I walk around him, drinking it in. He stands with his head down.

"When I said undress, everything must come off." He looks at me pleadingly, as if to say, why? I seize the opportunity to smack his round, toned ass.

"Everything. Off. Now."


To Be Continued…