FRANCESCA by Helier (M/F, F/F semi-consensual) WARNING This story contains scenes which are clear descriptions of spanking and sexual activity. Personally I don't find them at all offensive but I'm willing to believe that some people might. Could I therefore recommend that this story is only read by adults who are entirely convinced that they can read such material with equinimity. FRANCESCA Francesca was fuming. She had never done anything like it before. Now she had been caught red-handed and by Baldy Coderill of all people. Mr Coderill was a mean little man with a Hitler moustache. He looked at girls in a way that generally gave them the shivers. Francesca knew that catching her of all people and having her completely at his mercy would be more than all his disgusting little dreams put together. Why the hell had she done it? It wasn't the most important test of the year - it wouldn't have mattered too much if she'd failed it altogether. She saw him put the papers in his drawer when he left the room. He left the drawer open slightly and she was tempted just to take a little peep. How was she to know he was going to come back in through the storeroom. Her period must be due, she thought bitterly; if she was ever going to do anything completely stupid it was always just before her period. Beyond a couple of detentions Francesca had never really been punished. She was quite proud of it. In a remarkably strict school it was almost legendary amongst the other kids. It wasn't that she was especially good - in fact everyone, including Francesca, knew perfectly well that there were times she had really deserved to be punished - it was just that somehow it happened to others and not to her. She was sensible enough not to antagonise teachers unnecessarily and she was usually pretty level-headed about the risks she did take. To be caught like this and to lose her immune status now at the age of seventeen when she was almost into her last year was galling and potentially very humiliating. And she was going to be punished - there was no doubt about that. "I am surprised and extremely disappointed to find you in this situation," said Coderill, failing completely to keep the delight out of his voice. "You of all people." The strain of trying to appear calm was making him look deranged. "Naturally there will have to be severe punishment." "Oh, yes, naturally, you creep," thought Francesca, miserably. "Yes, sir," she said, aloud. "Girls of your age are looked up to by the others; they take their example from you. And the headmistress herself, only last week, stated that attempts at cheating in tests were to be treated with the uttermost severity." "Ugh," thought Francesca, remembering a particularly tiresome assembly last Friday afternoon. "Did you not hear her say that, Girl?" "Yes, Sir, I did." "Well then you've got no excuse and you'll not be surprised by what you've got coming to you. Do you have any explanation for what you were doing in this drawer." "Well ... " Francesca hesitated, wondering if trying to explain to Baldy Coderill about irrational acts at this time of month would be counter- productive. "And please understand that feeble lying will only make your situation worse." In this at least he was right. If this escalated in any way it could lead to her being suspended or even expelled. It was better to be as straight as possible. "I cannot explain it, Sir. I was tempted to look at the test questions. I didn't mean to do it and it's not my normal ... " Baldy wasn't listening anymore. "Thank you, Francesca. That's all I need to know. So by your own admission you were cheating. Is that what you wish to say?" "I didn't mean to ..." "Well, you did," he snapped. "And now you will put out your hand. Come along, Girl, right out in front of you." Francesca watched in horrified fascination as he reached into his desk and drew out a thin whippy cane. Of course she had seen it before at other times, for other girls, but this was for her. She was really going to be caned. She felt tears of indignation rising. Why should she have to submit herself to a caning from this dispicable little shit? He was coming in his pants at the thought of it - she knew he was. She had seen how he looked at her breasts and at her legs in class. He should never have been in a school with so many girls - everyone knew it. "Your hand, Francesca. I'm waiting." He'd got her. She had played right into his grasp - she'd been so stupid. He'd probably done it deliberately - openly dropped the papers in the drawer, casually left the drawer half-open in the hope that someone ... Never in all his wildest fantasies would he have expected it to be Francesca. And now here she was with nowhere to go. If she went to the head it could get worse - much worse. Better to get it over with. Francesca took a deep breath and slowly raised her hand. What the hell would it feel like? She had no experience with this. One thing was for sure - she was not going to give him the satisfaction of seeing her break down. She would keep her cool what ever happened. He stood in front of her and placed the cane on her hand. For a moment he looked her straight in the eyes and she could feel him lapping up her discomfort. She tried to match his stare evenly but she knew she was failing. He could see the fear in her eyes and suddenly she realised she had been nervously biting her lower lip. Whap! The cane came down lengthways along her fingers and the palm of her hand. Shit. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. But she could handle it. She was sure she could handle it. She longed to clamp the hurt to her body to soothe it but instead she breathed a little deeper and just lowered it slowly. "Keep it out and flat. Thank you, Francesca." Wow. Keep it flat - just when she wanted to roll it into a little ball and stuff it into her mouth. But ok that must mean he wasn't finished with it. He wanted to give her another one on it. She just had to take it - whatever it was. The pain was impossible - it was a sharp and itchy tingling. It was hard to keep your hand out and flat when it felt like that. She had never seen any of the other girls have to do that; they always stuffed theirs straight under their arms after a caning. He would want the other one next. She knew he would and he did. He asked for it in that unpleasant drawl of his - somewhere between a funeral director and a chainsaw. She felt a little foolish standing with both hands out. She was suddenly aware that people could see in. That would be all she'd need - to have all her friends watch her get her first caning. Whap! The cane came down a second time with the same effect. The shock made her gasp but she held herself together. She even held her hands out nice and flat as he'd told her but she couldn't stop them shaking slightly. It was getting to her, the pain was getting to her. She tried to prepare herself for the certainty that he would now turn his attention back to the first hand. He turned away and left her standing there. What the hell was he waiting for? She felt stupid standing here like this. She glanced again at the window but as yet no-one was looking in. He seemed to be reading something. He was reading his diary. Why did the bastard have to pick this moment to read his diary? With a sigh he closed it and turned back to Francesca. "The second part of your punishment will have to happen somewhere more private, I'm afraid. Fortunately I don't have a lesson until three so we will go to my study where we will be less likely to be disturbed." With that he took up his cane again and moved swiftly to her side. Before the startled girl could begin to think of what his statement implied he grasped her wrist and administered not one but two sharp strokes in quick succession across her already throbbing right hand. "Ah!" She cried out in spite of herself. She hadn't expected two and they hurt. They hurt much more than the others. Before she had time to recover or even gather her breath, he had gripped her left wrist and done the same to her other hand. She let out a broken gasping cry and as soon as he released her she bent over almost double with both hands stuffed tight under her arms. For a few moments she rocked her body up and down gasping in agony then, realising that she was virtually bowing down in front of him, she turned away and with deep breaths tried to recover. She wanted to cry but bravely she fought back the tears and calmed herself down. Opening her eyes she saw what she had dreaded. There were three astonished faces at the window. They bobbed down as soon as she saw them but she could hear their running footsteps and the glee in their voices. Oh, great - so much for any hope of keeping it quiet. It would be all over the school within minutes. And the pain in her hands was just merciless. Coderill's nasal whine cut through her thoughts. "Really, Francesca, for a girl of seventeen you're making a terrible fuss of a little pain in your hands. I hope you're going to be a little more adult when we go upstairs." Suddenly what he was saying came through to her. 'Upstairs', 'more private'. He was going to spank her. That's what he was saying. He was going to spank her. She would have to bend over in front of him and lift her skirt. She felt sick at the thought; really sick. But of course he wouldn't miss the opportunity. Thank God he couldn't make her take down her panties - only female staff were allowed to do that - but still. She quickly tried to remember what panties she was wearing. They were reasonably full which was lucky but they were the shiny white satin ones with the lacy bits at the sides. She could imagine he would be jerking off for months on the sight of her bending over in those. "Turn around now and hold this." Francesca saw that he was handing her a flat wooden paddle about two feet long. She gulped when she saw it and involuntarily tightened the muscles in her bottom. She took it from him, mystified. Why was he giving it to her?" "Please follow me, Francesca," he said stepping breezily past her. "But, Sir ... " she began. "Come along, Girl. I have a couple of errands to do on the way." Shit! What a complete bastard. He was going to make her walk through the school carrying the paddle she was about to be spanked with; in front of all her friends - and everyone else. How could she possibly handle that? She would look ridiculous whatever she did. It was too cruel. It was impossible, didn't he realise? Of course he realised, the asshole, he knew exactly what he was doing to her. He wanted her really squirming and there was nothing she could do about it. Her heart sinking she followed him glumly into the corridor. She walked in silence behind him. Dressed in only a blouse and skirt she had nowhere to hide the paddle; she just had to hope. For a while they met no-one. On the stairs a couple of juniors stopped, staring open-mouthed and wide-eyed. Obviously they had heard the news and were thrilled to be in at the latest development. Francesca dropped her eyes, embarrassed by their stares and imagining how they would be peering up at her rear and giggling. She couldn't blame them. At their age she would have done the same, seeing a senior girl about to get it. Coderill motioned for her to wait for him in the corridor and he disappeared into the secretary's office. Two senior girls, Louise and Sally, approached from the end of the corridor. They were deep in conversation and Francesca was praying they either wouldn't notice what she was holding or that Coderill would return before they reached her. She knew them from the basketball team and they were not the most intelligent. They passed by, still talking, and Francesca was almost breathing a sigh of relief when suddenly Sally stopped dead and turned to Louise. "Did you see what I just saw?" They both turned back and stared at Francesca. This was the sort of thing she had been dreading. She had no idea how to handle it so she smiled brightly and attempted a silly gesture with the paddle. It was really weak and horribly embarrassing. The two girls stared at her in amazement for a moment then exploded with laughter. Just then Coderill emerged. "You two girls - less noise in the corridor." They fell silent but kept staring. Coderill turned to Francesca. "Well, come along, Girl. I haven't got all day." Francesca heard their sniggering all the way down the corridor. Around the next corner he left Francesca standing outside again while he went into the staffroom he shared with the other teachers in his section. Francesca knew that whatever pretext he was using he was going in to make sure they all knew. He would probably call it an 'unfortunate duty' he had to perform. Sure. At that moment a bell sounded and Francesca just wanted to die right there on the spot. From everywhere students emerged, hurrying past her through the corridors. All of them looked and most of them, including some that she had thought were her friends, went off giggling heartily amongst themselves. Francesca stood like a statue. Having made a complete fool of herself with Louise and Sally she was determined not to react to anyone. Strangely it seemed to work. Though they noticed and found it humorous, in general they left her alone and in spite of the humiliation she began to feel a little stronger. Gradually the crowd began to thin out as the next classes began. It didn't surprise her that Coderill didn't emerge yet - he knew when the corridor would be empty again and he didn't want to save her a moment's embarrassment. When the corridor was nearly empty and Francesca was just beginning to bring her mind around to the next ordeal which would be the paddling itself, a figure approached and then stopped hesitantly beside her. It was Jason. Her heart almost stopped beating. She wanted him. He was tall and muscled and very handsome. She had been cultivating him for weeks, along with half the girls in her year, but she felt she was making some headway. He definitely knew she liked him; she'd made damn sure of that. He was a little too full of himself sometimes but, hell, he was beautiful. "Frani." She usually hated being called Frani but for Jason ... "I just heard," he continued, then he paused and looked at her and at the paddle. "Is Coderill going to use that ... on your ass?" This was the last conversation in the world she wanted to have with Jason but she was stuck. She decided she had to be completely honest about it. After all if they were going to spend a lifetime together ... "I guess so," she said, biting her lip. He put his hands on her upper arms. His thumbs were almost touching her breasts and she could feel her heart beating like a train. He stared down at her with his soft eyes. Suddenly she realised that if the only good thing to come out of this was that sympathy tipped Jason her way it would all have been worthwhile. "Frani, listen." He was close to her now, his voice deep and urgent. "According to the rules he ought to have a witness for that." "Really?" "Well, he doesn't have to but you can ask for one." "I can?" "Yes. Listen, Frani ... get him to let it be me." "What?" "Ask him, beg him, Frani. It's a bit irregular but he'll do it if you asked him. Please, Fran." She couldn't believe she was hearing him say this to her. She couldn't believe it. And he was sweating ... yuk ... drops of his sweat were falling on her. "Get away from me!" "Please, Frani!" "No!" "Look, you're going to get it anyway but, jeez, I'd love to be there to see it. It'd be the ultimate turn-on. Anyway I told the guys ... " "You ... you creep!" She pushed him away. She wanted to scream at him but all she dared do was hiss. "You fucking creep. Piss off. I never want to hear of you again." "Right. Well, right! You're off. You're finished, Frani." He glared at her in fury. "I hope he blisters your ass." He stamped off down the corridor muttering under his breath. Francesca was devastated. This was truly the worst day of her life. She didn't know whether to explode in anger or burst into tears. How could people be so horrible? Jason, she'd really liked him. What a fool she felt now, throwing herself blindly at such a creep. Maybe she deserved to get her bottom smacked for being so stupid. But one thing was certain, she told herself: she wasn't taking anymore shit from anyone. She'd take this paddling from Coderill but she'd come out of it with her head held high and Coderill would know exactly what sort of worm she thought he was. Coderill emerged from the staffroom with the leisurely air of a man who has just eaten a very satisfying meal. "Ah, Francesca." "I'll get you, you bastard," thought Francesca. "Thank you, Mr Coderill," she said stiffly. "I am ready now." Coderill was taken aback. "Ah ... " "Your study?" "Er ... yes." Francesca stood very tall and swung the paddle up under her arm. "Thank you. Would you like to lead the way?" "Oh ... of course ... " Coderill set off but his steps seemed to have become a little shorter. Suddenly he found had difficulty finding the right way to hold his briefcase as he walked along, acutely conscious of the commanding figure Francesca was presenting behind him. He had the absurd fear that it might look to passers-by as though it were she who was going to paddle him. He was grateful to gain the safety of his study. He needed to re-assert some authority. Francesca marched in and he closed the door behind her. She stopped at his desk and stood with her back to him which he found disconcerting. It was awkward to assert authority over someones back. "Now, Francesca ..." "Is it your intention, Sir, that I should lift my skirt and bend over your desk for this paddling?" "Er ... yes, it is and ..." "In that case, Sir, and in view of the nature of the offence for which I am to be punished, may I ask what these papers are?" "Papers ... oh, nothing important, now you just ..." "Actually, Sir, they look to me like confidential report forms." "What? ... Oh, yes, they are, er ... they may be." Francesca gave him a look of such patronising contempt that he immediately scuttled to clear his desk. Francesca waited until he had nearly finished. "Thank you, Mr Coderill. That seems adequate. Now tell me are you forehand or backhand?" "Am I ... what?" "Do you paddle girls with a forehand or a backhand motion?" "I don't see ..." "I would like to position myself correctly - for your convenience and optimum performance." "Oh ... er ... um, backhand ... yes, definitely backhand." "Odd, I would have expected ... Oh, well, your business, of course." With that Francesca carefully gathered her skirt from the hem upwards and arranged herself over the desk with her skirt distributed evenly over both sides of her waist and her full round bottom straining beautifully against the satin of her panties. "Here is my bottom, Mr Coderill, please paddle it thoroughly." Francesca was doing her best to sound like one of the characters out of a Jane Austin novel. "I plan to be paddled only this one time so I certainly hope you will make it memorable. After all a lot of people are now waiting to hear about it." "Really." "Oh, yes, a real lot - and you know what they're like. I have to tell them." Suddenly Coderill noticed he was sweating rather profusely. Also the paddle seemed unusually awkward to manage and, well, the impatience of this girl for her punishment and the shininess of her underwear. It really wasn't somehow as he had imagined. He needed something ... some new impetus ... he could give her a paddling she wouldn't forget if only he could ... "Now that's all very well, my girl, but I would like to remind you of why you're here ..." "I know why I'm here, Mr Coderill, and I'm expecting a thorough paddling. Could we ...?" "Now just a ... it's only a symbolic paddling, Francesca, er ... Now look here ..." Mr Coderill was searching for inspiration. He found it and leapt into the unknown. "Now I know I can't ask you to do more than you've done in relation to your underwear but you could do so voluntarily ... that is, er, remove it ... it is very distracting and after all this is a serious matter and ... and ... don't you think you ... deserve it ." "No." "Oh, right ... good ... I thought I should ask." Mr Coderill wearily lifted the paddle. She had won and he knew it. He was deflated but determined not to feel defeated. He knew he couldn't give her the paddling he'd wanted. He could tell she wouldn't cry and dance about and squirm like he's wanted her to and he was already feeling far too silly to risk letting her think he was really trying. He give her a few little whacks and let her off - just enough to redden her thighs. Having her bent over in front of him in just her panties was half the point anyway. He'd stop worrying and just enjoy it. Just as he was about to consumate their relationship with a juicy splat of the paddle on her luscious round buttocks there was a knock at the door. It was a rather urgent knock and was a definite annoyance both to Coderill and to Francesca. An interruption was the last thing Francesca needed right now. She had by chance hit upon the right formula to get Coderill exactly where she wanted him. She had used every trick in the book and there was no way she could start again. Unless this was a total reprieve it would be nothing but trouble. "Mr Coderill." It was Miss Jamieson's voice. Francesca's heart leapt for joy. Reluctantly Coderill lowered the paddle and went to open the door. Miss Jamieson, the young gym mistress, hardly more than four or five years older than Francesca herself, came in looking thoroughly flustered. "Mr Coderill. The headmistress wishes to see you immediately." "Thank you, Miss Jamieson, as you see I am busy with a most serious matter. I will see the headmistress as soon as I am finished here." "No, now, Mr Coderill. The headmistress was very insistent on that. She is with the board of governors and it must be now." "Well, this is most ... very well, if she insists. You will come back after school, Francesca." "No, I don't think that is at all correct," put in Miss Jamieson quickly. "Francesca has been paraded round the school half the afternoon - she has a right to have her punishment finalised." "As you are aware, Miss Jamieson, Francesca has committed a most serious breach ..." "I am aware of this matter, Mr Coderill, and at the headmistress' request I will take care of it." "But it was ... I was ..." "Unless there is some reason you feel that this girl can only be dealt with by yourself ..." "It's just ..." "In which perhaps you should explain this to the headmistress." "No ... no, perhaps you should ... er, thank you." With one last melancholy look at Francesca's panties Mr Coderill took his jacket and left the room, quietly closing the door behind him. Francesca slowly turned round and leaned on the desk, letting her skirt fall back into place. For a moment the two young women just stared at each other. Francesca was almost overcome. In the whole school Miss Jamieson was her favourite person. Not only was she the most beautiful female Francesca had ever seen but she was also the most gentle teacher. Of course if anyone had been going to save her from Mr Coderill and a paddling it would have to be her. After all she had been through that afternoon Francesca loved Miss Jamieson more at that moment than she thought she could love anyone. "You've no idea ..." she said and tears filled her eyes. "I have." Miss Jamieson's voice sounded a little edgy. "We have. The head and I heard what was going on and we both agreed immediately that it was not suitable for Mr Coderill to be punishing you and especially not in the way he was doing it. Are you alright, Francesca?" "Yes, Miss." Miss Jamieson studied her closely for a moment then put out her arms. "Come here, Francesca." It was like being six years old again. Francesca ran to Miss Jamieson's arms and buried herself in the shape of the teacher's warm breasts and the fragrance of her soft woollen sweater. It didn't matter that Miss Jamieson was almost the same age as her, she just wanted to be close to this lovely girl who had saved her. "Francesca." Miss Jamieson held Francesca tight and spoke the words softly into her hair. "I take it you did what Mr Coderill said." "Yes, Miss. I don't know why I did it but ..." "I'm glad you're being honest about it." She took a deep breath and then continued. "Francesca, when you're ready, I'd like you to take down your panties for me." Francesca's mind went numb with shock. Surely Miss jamieson couldn't mean ... "But, Miss ..." "Half the school knows about it already and I'm afraid cheating is much too serious to go unpunished." "But I've already been caned - on both hands, Miss." "I know, but I'm afraid the Head feels that is not enough - not for cheating. You have to take a severe punishment." Her voice went really gentle like honey. "Please take down your panties, Francesca; right down. Then bend over and hold your ankles." Francesca stared at her in shock. Of course being female staff Miss Jamieson had the right to ask so much more than Mr Coderill. Now not only would her bottom be properly spanked after all but she would have to take her panties down for it, in front of this young teacher. After all that had happened it was too much for Francesca. She looked up at Miss Jamieson and, in spite being seventeen years old, her face crumpled and she burst into tears. Miss Jamieson cuddled her again but Francesca pulled away. She didn't want to make a fuss - it was her own fault. In spite of her tears she hurried to pull her panties down. She couldn't bring herself to lift her skirt but she bent over to hold her ankles as the young teacher had directed. "Thank you, Francesca," said Miss Jamieson, gently folding back the girl's skirt. "I'm not going to use Mr Coderill's paddle. I prefer to use a gym shoe. It will sting as much or even more but it probably won't leave your bottom as bruised. You will have ten strokes, Francesca." Suddenly, knowing what was going to happen to her made Francesca nervous. She didn't want to delay but she couldn't help it. "Please, Miss. I want to go to the toilet ... before ..." "Oh. Quickly then. There's one next door. Come straight back." Francesca pulled up her knickers and hurried next door. She was still crying but having a pee made her feel more comfortable and gave her time to settle her churning stomach. For a few moments she sat feeling the cool of the seat on her bottom cheeks and wondering gloomily how they would feel after ten strokes. Calmer she went back to Miss Jamieson. "Feel better?" the young teacher asked with a understanding smile. "Yes, Miss. Thank you, Miss." "Francesca." Miss Jamieson's voice always had a wonderful purr in it. "I want you to know I'm not just punishing you because I was told to. I want to; I really do. I know it's not in your nature to do what you did but it was a serious slip. I have to make sure that you never forget how important it is to be true to yourself and to others. Of course I could let you off lightly but if I did I'd just be letting you down. I couldn't forgive myself for that." Tears filled Francesca's eyes again and she couldn't speak. She nodded and reached under her skirt to find the elastic of her panties. She was tugging them slowly down over her bottom when suddenly, on impulse, she embraced Miss Jamieson and kissed her on the cheek. It happened so quickly that the teacher had no time to react before Francesca drew away again, pulled her knickers right down and, tucking her skirt up into her waistband, bent over and grasped her ankles. With a sigh Miss Jamieson took a shoe out of her bag and took her place alongside her student. She straightened out Francesca's skirt and tucked it further into the waistband. "Are you ready, Francesca?" "Yes, Miss." Miss Jamieson drew back the shoe and with no further preparation slapped it hard and suddenly across Francesca's bottom. "No!" Francesca gave an incredulous gasp and jumped involuntarily. She didn't want to make a fuss. She would try to behave but, ow, that hurt so much. "Ooh!" she cried as a second stroke landed and a long 'Ooouw!' with the third. Miss Jamieson wasn't giving her any time to think about it either. She just piled them on. The fourth at the top of her right thigh; the fifth the same on the left. Francesca tried desperately to stay bent over and quiet but actually she was crying out each time and twisting every which way trying to escape the stinging shoe. Whack! The sixth landed across her bottom again, right where the first two had been. In spite of all her good intentions Francesca broke down and began to cry like a baby. She hadn't wanted to but somehow she was glad she did. It felt good in some strange way to be punished by someone you felt cared and who you could feel yourself loving more every moment. She cried and screamed and tried to hold on to her ankles. She wanted her punishment but 'ooooh' it was so hard. More spanks. She had lost count and felt she was being spanked to death. The burning sting was drowning her. Her bottom had disappeared into one great sea of pain. Suddenly she felt Miss Jamieson's arms around her shoulders, raising her up. It was over and Miss Jamieson was embracing her. Her thighs were on fire, her bottom was on fire, but Miss Jamieson was holding her and she was crying and it was okay. Sure she was standing in the middle of Coderill's office with her skirt up and her pants around her ankles; sure every kid in the school knew she was up here getting it on her bare bottom; sure she was crying like a baby because of it; but at this moment she knew she was stronger than she had ever been and she was loved. Let the rats of this world - the Coderills and the Jasons and the so-called friends - wear that. Francesca was spanked and proud and she felt good.