Series

An Education ~ Part IV of IV

There’s a short swish, and the cane lands like he’s playing. It stings, but it’s only a tingle

Parts I, II and III: I’m roleplaying my husband’s schoolboy crush again, and I’ve got the uniform this time. I’ve prepped for anal, so that could be on the table. If ‘Sir’ wants to fuck me, ‘Rowan’ will take it like a man, but there’d better be a ring at the end of this.

“Sequere!” He opens the front door, looks back, notes my blank expression and takes pity. “Follow me!”

“Where are we going, Sir?”

“Quo tendimus, Rowan!”

Where the fuck is that? Some distance, obviously, because the garage is already open and he unlocks the Merc. Maybe we’re going to the airport. A holiday would be nice, we haven’t been anywhere for months. We usually go to Milan: he likes the Pinacoteca, I like the pasticcini; it’s a win-win. But while he might have sneakily picked up my passport, he definitely hasn’t packed a suitcase for me. I would have noticed that. So we’re going somewhere closer to home. A restaurant, maybe? We can’t have anal sex in a restaurant though. A handjob under the table, sure, especially if he’s just put another ring on that hand, but not anal on top of it.

The journey doesn’t feel like a good time to talk about the Rowan situation. I mean, it should be the best time, because I’m Rowan right now, but there might be lunch and an eternity ring waiting at the end, and I don’t want to mess that up. We can talk afterwards.

It takes me about ten minutes to work out where we’re going. I know these roads. I haven’t travelled this route in twenty-five years, but he takes it five, sometimes six days a week. We’re heading to his office. So it’s a nostalgia trip, back to where we started. Coming full circle, symbolically. That’s good. The canteen won’t be open on a Sunday, so lunch might be out of a vending machine, but now I’m certain there’s a ring waiting for me.

He pulls up in his parking spot, turns to me, and says, “Sequere!”

That’s what he said when we left. It means, “Follow me.” So Rowan isn’t completely useless, he has learnt some Latin.

I get out and turn to my left, heading for the offices.

He shouts, “Rowan! Sequere!”

I look round, and he’s striding towards the warehouse. I’d rather do it in his office, bent over his mahogany desk, but anal on a grubby warehouse floor could be wonderfully filthy fun. I like the idea of the lads coming in on Monday and working where we fucked, never knowing what happened over the weekend.

He opens the man door and waits for me to catch up. But as I reach him, he holds his hand up: stop!

I can see why. There’s a table set up at the back of the working area, with a cane on it, and a desk in front of it. But there are two more rows behind Rowan’s, three desks in each row. And there’s a bloke sitting at each of them. I think I recognise a couple of them: young lads — older now, but aren’t we all? — who I used to flirt with back when I was his secretary. I guess the others started working here since I quit.

I dart to the side, up against the wall, where there’s no chance of them seeing me. “We need to talk!”

He nods. “You can either accept my punishment, in front of your class, or you’ll be expelled. That means I’ll have to drive you home. We respect our pupils at this school — we don’t abandon them, even when they stop being our boys— but you’ll need to give up your uniform and your badge when you get back, of course. It will be the end of your time as a prefect. Is that what you want?”

I don’t know. Voices are one thing; eyes are another. “You’re going to cane me, on the bare, with them watching?”

“Certainly. Being embarrassed in front of one’s peers can be a powerful motivator. It fosters good discipline.”

It fosters fear, is what it fosters. But it’s a good fear, the kind that settles in the belly, burning, and works its way down to where the heat is welcome.

I trust him. I know I can stop anything we start. “Are you going to fuck me after you’ve punished me?”

He fakes an outraged gasp, badly. “That would be most inappropriate! Teachers at this school are professional… although people can get carried away. If that happens, you can complain to the Board of Governors. If you don’t enjoy it.”

“You’re seriously going to let six men watch you fuck me in the arse?”

“Where else would anyone fuck you, Rowan?”

I don’t know if I can do this. But I do know I want to, and who knows if I’ll ever get another chance for an audience. Seize the day, I guess. “Ask me, sir. After the caning, ask me if I’ve learnt my lesson. If I say no then I’m saying yes to… Just be gentle, please, if we get that far.”

“One more thing: the other boys are prone to barracking during punishments. Should I tell them to remain silent?”

Those recorded voices were exciting, but they weren’t real. He scripted them, or selected them. But six men ad libbing, without knowing what I like and what would hurt me more than the cane? Six men who can actually see the arse they’re commenting on? I don’t need to hear that. “Yes, sir. Silence, please.”

“Sequere, Rowan! Audentes fortuna iuvat.”

I follow him in, shaking as I walk to my desk. I shouldn’t be so nervous: I chose this. But we’ve explored fantasies before, and they don’t always live up to the pictures in our heads.

He doesn’t mess around with Latin conjugation this time, probably because he wants to get on to the Greek kind. As soon as I sit, he calls me out. “Rowan! Translate: Magna est vis consuetudinis.”*

If I’m going to get punished for not knowing, I might as well make it worthwhile. “I’ve got no idea, sir. Why don’t you go suck Cicero’s cock, maybe he’ll translate it for you.”

“Outrageous! Come to the front of the class!”

There’s a single wolf whistle from behind me when I stand, and he quashes it immediately. “Tacete! Silence! I don’t want to hear a peep from you boys during this punishment. Show your classmate some respect.”

It’s four steps from my desk to the teacher’s, and each one is a rung on the ladder of anxiety. When I’m in front of his table, I have to cling to the edge to stay steady. I’m about to show my arse to four strangers, and two guys who remember it smaller and in a pencil skirt. At least, I hope they remember it. Someone should.

He picks up the cane from his desk. “This punishment will be on your bare bottom.”

I drop my trousers, and he stops me immediately.

“Undress! Completely. Your behaviour has been shameful and you should be shamed.”

This is not what I imagined, but shame is what I need right now. Shame can push fear aside, and it brings its own heat. It’s a more all-encompassing heat, and it starts in my face, but it still finds its focus between my legs. If these men knew what words work for me, I’d let them do the shaming. But they don’t, so I’ll shame myself.

When I squat to unlace my shoes, he tells my I can keep my socks on. I’m grateful for that. They won’t do much to protect my modesty but on the cold, concrete floor of the warehouse my feet will appreciate them.

I kick my shoes under his table, then, with my back to the class, I unbutton my shirt. Two of these men will remember my tits — I know they’ll remember my tits — and if I keep facing the table maybe they can keep their memories.

I undo my trousers, push them down over my hips, let them puddle around my feet, and step backwards out of them.

Right. Now or never.

I take a deep breath and push my boxers down to my knees, bending at the waist. And that’s it. The die is cast. Everyone’s had an eyeful, and no one’s going to see anything more, unless… Well, I’ll worry about that if we come to it. Or he comes in it.

I shuffle forward, pants falling round my ankles, and put my palms on the table. I don’t bend far, and I keep my legs together. If the guys can see my cunt, they won’t see the arousal they saw when they were imaginary schoolboys. I am ready for this, and after a solid caning I’ll be ready for anal, but I don’t feel the same urgent need I felt last time. This is too real.

He hasn’t said how many strokes I’m getting, but it’ll probably be six. That’s a school number: six of the best. His best are hard, fast, and super painful, but I can take six.

He rests the cane against my arse and barks, “Repeat after me: Mutare!”

Okay. Usually I just get thrashed and fucked, but his school did things differently, I suppose. I’d hope so, anyway; less fucking, at least. I’m not happy with that first syllable, but I can mimic what he said. “Moo-tah-ray.”

There’s a short swish, and the cane lands like he’s playing. It stings, but it’s only a tingle, not proper pain. There might be a pink line for the lads to see, I guess, but no welt.

“Debes!”

No cow references this time. Good. “Day-bess.”

I get another stroke that’s barely punishment at all. This isn’t helping. A good flogging hurts, the pain helps turn me on, and the more turned on I am, the easier anal is. Right now, anal might hurt more than his pathetic caning.

“Have you learnt your lesson, Rowan? Have you been punished enough?”

That’s it? Two strokes? No, I have not been punished enough, not nearly enough for him to fuck me. “Yes, sir.”

“Excellent. Stand up!”

It looks like his punishment, weak as it was, still managed to foster some discipline in me, because I obey without question. As I stand, I hear chairs being pushed back; now I have questions, and my mind is coming up with all sorts of interesting answers.

“Turn around.”

I shouldn’t be shy now, not after what these men have seen, but I still put one arm across my breasts and the other over my belly before I turn… to see all six of my classmates standing with their flies open and their erections in their hands. For such a small group, there’s a real variety of cocks: short, fat, long, skinny, straight, curved, crooked, cut, uncut, and one of them is huge. I mean, scarily huge. That’s John. I wish I’d known, back when he was hitting on me in the canteen. He would have got lucky, because while I might be slightly afraid of his monster cock, the heat of that fear is skipping my stomach and going straight to where it’s useful.

My husband kisses my cheek and whispers, “Happy anniversary, darling. You’ve been doing the same old things to the same old penis for twenty-five years. Don’t you think it’s time you tried something different?”

The sly bastard. Six new cocks, and every one of them hard for me.

Six hungry pairs of eyes take in my body, in all its faded glory, and not one looks away in disgust. I let my hands fall to my sides. “Yes, sir. It’s time.”

The guys walk to the front of the class, forming a circle around me. As I kneel on Rowan’s discarded uniform and take tentative hold of John, I feel a little guilty. This is my present, and my husband’s only getting a watch.

To Be Continued… in part V of IV

• “Great is the power of habit.”

Read all of this series here…