Codes: M/f, caning, school setting, BDSM, real, romantic, consensual, Real Life
Synopsis: Shannon routinely gets into trouble at school, until she finally meets her match, in the form of the school’s librarian. Her lessons eventually extend beyond those the school teaches.
Author’s notes – This story started based on a photo as a task for Qmoq. I enjoyed writing it so much that I’ve continued working on it. There are more chapters to come. I have to thank Q for being the inspiration behind Mr. Quackers.
Lessons from the Librarian
By: Shannon J. Cole
Chapter 1
I hated school. My idea of a good time is not listening to some old geezer or hag drone on and on about English or History. Yawn. Boring! It’s been even worse since I started going to an all girls’ school. There are no handsome boys to flirt with and tease. I always try to make my classes exciting. It had earned me the paddle once or twice, well okay, many times. I found the paddle to be erotic though. None of my teachers had the balls, (and I do mean balls, they were almost all women) to wield it properly.
Oh, I should tell you a bit more about myself. Hello! My name is Shannon J. Cole. Welcome to my story. What would you want to know about me that would be relevant to this story? Yes I know you can’t tell me, as the story is already written. I’m five foot five and a half, blue eyed, have long brown hair and like romantic walks on the beach. Whoops, this isn’t a personal ad. You can ignore the beach part, I prefer the mountains anyway. Oh, have I mentioned that I adore sheep? They really don’t play a major role in this tale, but for any of you crazed fan types out there wish to send tokens and fan mail, include a stuffed sheep. Please? Okay, anyway…
My childhood has very little impact upon this story, except to say that my parents were rarely around. They had little interest in me personally. Their social standing among the community was far more important. I started attending private schools at the age of seven. By the time I was eighteen I was on my eighth school, The W.C. Girls Academy.
My class was in the library. We were supposed to be doing research on Shakespeare or something. Instead I was amusing myself by drawing mustaches and beards on several of the pictures in the books. I had just finished drawing a lovely goatee on some woman’s picture when I felt a tap on my shoulder.
“Buzz off. Can’t you see I’m busy?”
I heard someone clear their throat behind me and put their hand on my shoulder, gripping it hard. My pen dropped down onto the desk and I tried to smile up at Mr. Quackers, the librarian.
Before I continue, I’ll tell you a bit more about him. He is after all, one of the main characters. Mr. Quackers was one of the few men at the school. If I had to guess, I’d say he was in his early to mid thirties. He had a mop of dark brown hair, and gorgeous brown eyes. He was regarded as one of the “easy” teachers, because he rarely raised his voice and had never been known to paddle an unruly student. Most students thought of him as an older “dorky” brother type, who only got loud when he was excitedly talking about his beloved books. His lessons frequently included boring old books and lame jokes.
Now, where was I? Oh yes, when I looked up at him, I saw something I’d never seen before, anger. He gripped my shoulder harder and I cried out. When I did, the grip loosened, but still remained. His eyes bore down into mine as he spoke, “Miss Cole, I am far too angry at you to administer any discipline at the moment. However, I want you to return here when your last class is over. Is that clear?”
My head bobbed up and down in answer, but his free hand caught my chin and held it up so that I had to look in his eyes. “I want a proper answer. Please.”
I stammered out, “Y-yes Sir.” When I had, he let go of me, picked up the book, and returned to his desk. I glanced around at the other girls, many of whom were whispering and pointing. I felt slightly embarrassed, but flashed them my “famous” grin. Leave it to me to get in trouble with the one teacher who was impossible to get in trouble with!
Through my last two classes I couldn’t erase the sight of his eyes from my mind. They were angry, quite angry, but I’d detected something else in there that I didn’t expect, sadness and disappointment. For the first time since I’d been to the school, I felt guilty about having caused trouble.
When my last class of the day ended, I grabbed my books and slowly walked over to the library. I was in no hurry to get there. As I walked, I wondered what type of punishment I would get. I highly doubted it would be the paddle. Mr. Quackers didn’t even seem like the type who would use such an implement, and considering his reputation, I wasn’t worried about getting my butt whomped. What I was worried about was seeing the disappointment. None of my other teachers ever looked at me like that when I misbehaved. They expected it.
As I entered the library, Mr. Quackers looked up from the book he was reading. He put the book down and pointed to a chair, “Sit down Miss Cole.” I quickly sat down on the chair he was pointing to.
“Now,” he walked over towards me, looming down overhead. I couldn’t help but to look down at the floor. He didn’t seem to notice my discomfort as he continued speaking, “I’ve heard about your behavior in other classes, and have always assured the other teachers that you’ve never acted out in mine. I’m extremely disappointed in your behavior.”
He paused and took a moment to look at me as I continued to stare at the floor. I was starting to wallow in self pity when I realized that I had no one to blame but myself. Mr. Quackers cleared his throat and when I looked up, pointed to a table, “I’m quite sure you’re familiar with the position I want you to assume. Panties down, skirt up, hands stretched out.”
I avoided looking at him as I got into position. Even though no one else was watching, I was embarrassed. I suppose that I can admit to you my dear readers, that because Mr. Quackers was one of the few young male teachers, he was often subject of many fantasies by the girls, me included.
When I was fully in position, Mr. Quackers went back to his desk, which was just in my line of vision if I tilted my head slightly. He picked up the book he’d been reading, a cup of tea, and to my shock, a cane. I started to move out of position when I saw the cane, but his swift, “Do NOT move!” jolted me back into place.
He sat down in a chair at the table, placed the cup of tea and cane near my head, and started reading again. I desperately wanted to beg for my punishment so that I could be on my way. What stopped me though was this; here I was, half undressed, in front of an attractive male who (I may have forgotten to mention this) that I had a crush on. Instead I lay there waiting, daydreaming.
I had run through most of my favorite daydream about him, a rather lusty fantasy about being thrown down upon a desk and ravaged, when I heard the clink of his empty teacup being placed on the saucer. He put away the book that he had been reading, and pulled the one I had defaced off the shelf. He placed the book inches away from nose and then picked up the cane.
As he moved into position, my heart was beating wildly in my chest from nerves. I’d never been caned before. I was waiting for the usual lecture but it never came. My ass exploded in pain and I screamed out. I’d never felt anything like it before in my life. It was as though a million yellow jackets had all stung me in a row. My brain wasn’t able to comprehend this fully when the second stroke landed, fresh new pain, just lower than the first.
I tried to jump up, but he was faster than I was, and his free hand pressed down upon the small of my back. I shivered slightly at his touch, but the harshness in his voice reminded me why I was there, “If you move, you will get double.” I groaned into the desk, gripping it so hard that my knuckles turned white. The next stroke was directly where the first had been. I screamed so loudly, the whole campus probably heard.
I screamed again on the fourth and fifth strokes. My world had never known so much pain. I started crying on the sixth. On stroke seven, I cried out, begging him to stop. He showed some mercy then, and paused for a moment. I tried to calm myself down, sniffling at the snot that was running down from my nose. I must have looked like a mess. I couldn’t imagine what my ass looked like.
When my hiccupping sobs had quieted, I felt my skirt tug higher and knew more was coming. I screeched on stroke eight, screamed on stroke nine, and was sobbing again on stroke ten. This was where he paused, and slid the cane along the curve of my ass. I could feel the welts as the cane moved along my skin. I heard him chuckle and say, “And one to grow on!” as the eleventh stroke, which was much harder than all the rest, impacted upon my upturned rear. I howled with pain. I wanted to jump up and snatch the cane out of his hand, but I didn’t. I slumped on the desk crying.
Mr. Quackers patted my head and walked over to his desk. He placed the cane upon a shelf behind it, picked up a jar of something, and then walked back over to where I still lay clutching the desk. I was trying to compose myself, wanting to get out of there, but waiting for permission to do so. He placed the jar on the desk somewhere near my hip.
Now, I knew he was the gentle sort of person, so the punishment I had just received surprised me, but I was even more surprised when I felt his cool hands upon my ass. I had tensed, wanting to jump up and yell at him, but his soothing voice stopped me, “Stay still Miss Cole. This balm will help to ease the pain and help you heal faster.”
I wasn’t sure if I should believe him, but his hands felt good upon my sore skin as they carefully rubbed the balm into the welts. I don’t know how long he would have stood there rubbing my ass had I not moaned in arousal. He stopped touching me when I did, “Stand up, pull up your panties and then sit down on the chair.” As I stood, he avoided my eyes, but added with a chuckle, “Sit carefully.” I would have sworn he was blushing as well.
When my clothes were back in their proper order and I had managed to sit down, sit carefully, ha ha, he pulled a book off one of the shelves and placed it in front of me. It was a book about famous soccer players and I looked up in surprise. He smiled, and I swear it was one of those “shit eating grins” and said, “There’s one more part of your punishment. You will learn how to respect books and use them properly. I want a ten page paper on the life and career of Ferenc Puskas. You will report each day after class until it is finished.”
I nodded, and caught myself mid nod, “Yes Sir Mr. Quackers.”
He smiled at me, “Good girl. Now off you go, and take a pain killer, it will help.”
I blushed and quickly got up, heading for the door. As I reached the door, he called out to me, “Oh, and one more thing Miss Cole.” I turned around, “Yes Sir?”
“From now on, your other teachers will be sending you to me for punishments.”
I turned and raced from the library. My heart was pounding. It terrified me to think about being caned again. However, I wasn’t running because of that. I was running because I didn’t want him to see how embarrassed I was. As I ran, I noticed something. My panties were soaked and my thighs were sticky with arousal. Did I mention I have a kinky streak?
