Full Stretch
The fascinating thing about the two girls is that they never seem to hold a grudge after being caned! Nor do they try to talk their way out of trouble, as so many others do. They seem to understand each other, and him, very well. So well, in fact, that they each like to help him to cane the other; often volunteering hold hands or feet or shoulders, and to put each other into the most awkward positions possible! They both have this capricious little quirk of humour which makes punishing them, singly, or together, a very amusing and rewarding exercise. He rarely punishes one without the other, as they will not 'split' on each other. More often than not the culprit owns-up during her ordeal.
Mr. Hanson has learned how to deal with this, however, having found that the wrong-doer will choose to be caned last. Knowing what she has coming she'll make the most exquisite arrangements for her friend, and help as much as she can, knowing she'll have to submit herself, later...
The bell interrupts his thoughts. He stands up and dismisses the class. They leave the room looking rather subdued, very quietly for a change. He wonders if he could ban the wearing of knickers...
"A very good class, this afternoon, girls," Mr. Hanson says, as he goes into the science lab after school. "Thank you," he adds quietly, and drily.
The two girls both prefects, look at each other. Neither speaks. They stand, hands behind their backs, looking subdued already, as if they both realise now that they've done something wrong.
"Whose idea was it to take their knickers off?"
They glance at each other and shuffle feet awkwardly. Anne blushes faintly, knowing they are in trouble.
"I – um – we thought it would be better, sir." June says quietly. "You were saying the last week how some of the girls spoiled your lessons. And – and how we ought to do something about it, being prefects. We thought we'd stop them that way, so we – um..."
"I thought so!" he nods slowly. "I realise you were trying to help, but... I'd like you to show me how you did it, in case of complaints."
"Er – now?" June asks warily, seeing rough the subtlety of his ploy.
"Um-hum! Now! What happened?" he demands severely. A good act as he's sure there will be no complaints – not from these girls.
"We – um – got them as they came in. It was easy, we –"
"I can imagine!" he says severely. "Show me!"
The girls look at each other, register alarm. They hadn't expected this. Seconds, then Anne makes for the door without a word. She goes out and closes the door. June stands behind, waiting.
The door opens and Anne strolls in. June steps from behind the door puts one arm round her waist pinning her arms securely, her other hand goes over Anne's mouth and draws her head back until she stares up at the ceiling, helplessly off-balance, wide-eyed, unable to complain.
Mr. Hanson takes in Anne's out-thrust nipples, her widely-spread feet, and her small reflex struggles as June shoves her toward the nearest bench. She submits to being laid across its top reluctantly.
"Now, she grabbed their hands, so I could hold them," June says.
"Like this?" He grips Anne's slim wrists and instinctively crosses them in the small of her back. She moans nasally, trying to object.
"Yes, that's right, sir." June takes over holding the crossed wrists firmly and steps to one side. Anne lies there, head up, staring at the opposite wall, with June's hand still over her mouth. She wriggles her hips – about all she can do easily. Her hands waggle forlornly, as June says, "Then, she – um – did it, sir – took their knickers."
"I see. You make it look very easy," he considers this, with Anne trying to look over her shoulder to see what's going to happen to her.
"Perhaps, we should do it to her, do you think?" he asks blandly.
"Yes, sir!" June moves a little sideways, to give him more room. He steps up close, turns Anne's short skirt up and slips her knickers down over her soft, full cheeks, and on down to her knees. Anne raises her feet, unasked, so that he can slip her knickers off completely. He stands, trying to look severe, with the knickers dangling from one finger. Anne crosses her ankles and bends her knees, trying to hide what she is now displaying so nicely, but failing. She sighs nervously.
Mr. Hanson takes in her neat pussy and its nest of dark curly hair. He stares at June, who now has an oddly eager look, realising no doubt how Anne must feel and savouring the sexiness of this punishment session. Just as Anne herself probably is, if she would admit it.
"And now, you fix these –" he displays Anne's knickers "to the board?"
"No, sir," June says, "She did that."
"Alright, June. Let her go now."
While Anne gets to her feet, face flushed and looking ruffled and crestfallen, he considers whether she should now staple her own knickers to the top of the blackboard. In the workshop the old one has been replaced by a modern roller blackboard which runs from floor to ceiling, almost. Finally, he decides, yet – why not?
They both watch Anne climb onto a high stool, to stand on tip-toes at full stretch, while she struggles to use the stapler from his desk to fix her knickers to the top rail of the tall frame. She does this, then jumps down, blushing pinkly.
"Neither of you are going to tell me who did it – I mean whose idea it was – are you?" Again the mock-stern tone.
The girls look innocent, but don't speak. He smiles knowingly.
"Then I think this is hardly fair. I think it's June's turn to go out, now, don't you, Anne?" And Anne nods knowing this is a game neither of them have any option about playing. This isn't the first time he's had them both in here.
June gives him an up-from-under look, very eloquent, then moves to the door reluctantly without a word. She goes out and closes the door.
"June may put up rather more of a struggle than you did, Anne."
"Yes, sir," Anne agrees, and goes over to stand behind the door.
June comes in quickly, but Anne snares her easily. She gasps as she is forced down onto the bench, but makes no other cry. Again he takes the unwillingly offered wrists and crosses them. Anne takes them and shoves them so high up June's back she arches up helplessly, squirming.
Again, the sleek hips are unveiled, the attractive curves displayed, and the knickers are slipped down. And again the feet are raised unbidden, so high that he barely has to stoop to slip her knickers off.
She relaxes, knowing she has no alternative but to display her cute feminine secrets and her curly blonde nest. She adopts a charming position across the bench; slightly pigeon-toed and with knees pressed together, but this makes very little difference. She makes small sounds of mild protest.
He hands June her knickers and he watches her struggle on the tall stool as she staples them alongside Anne's, at full stretch!
"I know you won't do it again, girls, but in spite of your good intentions I'll have to punish you – agreed?" he queries mildly.
The girls nod apprehensively, unwilling to meet his eyes, showing alarm.
"Three strokes each, say?" he suggests. "Facing Mecca, though."
More slow, reluctant nods from both girls. Neither seems to relish his little whimsical suggestion about the position they will adopt.
"Good! Please yourselves who goes first. One of you bring the cane, please."
A last hesitant glance passes between the girls, then they walk to the back of the lab. There are two low benches there, legs shortened for small pupils. On the side wall is a coloured picture of a tall minaret. This may possibly be in Mecca, not that this matters a bit.
Anne pants a little, apprehensively and kneels up on the low bench, while June goes into the store-room for the cane. Mr. Hanson watches as Anne takes up the position of one who prays to Allah; kneeling, knees and feet together neatly, bottom up and head down. She crouches and wriggles to make herself as comfortable as she can, knowing she won't be comfortable for very long.
He raises her short skirt which makes her go a bit trembly.
June comes back with the cane, hiding a conspiratorial smile behind her hand at a sudden thought. Mr. Hanson walks to meet her, so that he can walk back and get a long-range view of Anne's curvy bum and shapely thighs. June whispers something to him. He nods slowly. "Good idea." He sees no reason why he shouldn't exploit the mischievous and vicarious delight these two seem always to derive from embarrassing each other. Anne looks round, no doubt wondering what the 'good idea' may be.
June goes back into the store, and comes out carrying a yard long piece of wood about two inches square. She giggles as she lays this across the backs of Anne's legs, just behind her knees, against her thighs.
"If you'll just grip that for me, please, Anne."
Anne makes a small sound of mild protest, glares sideways at June. Slowly her arms come back either side of her thighs and she grips the wood. June smiles impishly.
"Now pull on it!" he says coolly, interested to see the results.
They both watch as Anne pulls gently. The sharp edges of the wood press into her legs and unwillingly she has to raise her bum even higher! Her hands being down by her knees, now, her head and shoulders are much lower, making her look rather awkward. She mutters, "You wait!"
Mr. Hanson surveys the tense silky bum, elevated, out-thrust and ideally presented. He selects his spot and lays his cane on it across the smooth fullness of Anne's cheeks which clench instantly.
"Ready, Anne?"
"Mmm!" She squirms slowly, unable to keep still now.
He raises the cane, pauses until the quiverings stop and she relaxes slightly. Her fine curves become softer and more yielding.
'Shwitt!' and an instant white line appears across both full cheeks.
"Ah-mmmm!" she gasps, wriggling furiously, bum swinging madly...
'Shwittt!' and another thin white line is indented across the pale satiny curves an inch above the first which has now turned bright red.
Again he raises the cane as Anne squeals "Wow!". He waits, watches her second line turn sore-looking red, noticing her cheeks are flushing to a light pink now, already. He sees she is trying to tuck her dark curly nest in, arching her back since she isn't able to lower her bum.
'Shwittt!' he delivers the final stroke and creates another white line an inch below his first, demoralising her completely.
"Ah!" Anne gasps, shuddering prettily, trying to look back from the corners of her eyes which are now bright with unshed tears.
He and June exchange glances, while Anne holds her position warily, not wanting to earn more strokes by moving too soon, before she's told. Her full cheeks are now a faint pink, with three neatly parallel red lines curved across both. They switch and quiver tensely. June cannot stop herself from uttering a low, "Ooooooh!" of concern, possibly for Anne, much more likely for herself, now that it's her turn.
"Right, Anne!" Mr. Hanson sounds reluctant to release her.
"Thank you, sir." She gulps back a suggestion of a sob and discards the piece of wood that has caused her so much humiliation. She kneels up, arches her back and clutches her bum, gasping, "Oh-h-h-h!" Her face is even more flushed than her bottom. She descends from her perch, looking contrite and subdued.
"Come on, June. Your turn!" he says with some relish.
June reluctantly takes Anne's place, and adopts the position slowly. She kneels in the shallow trough down the centre of the bench, as Anne did, knees together, bottom up and head down. She stares wordlessly now, at Anne, pleading silently. Anne takes no notice at all. She picks up the piece of wood and glances at Mr. Hanson. He nods: yes. She lays the wood across the backs of June's legs without speaking, who reaches back and grips it without a word, now unable to glare at Anne.
"Would you like to raise June's skirt for me, please?"
"Oh, yes, sir." Anne smiles foxily. Now it's her turn to gloat.
Seconds, and poor June is naked to her waist, in the very undignified pose that reveals all her female secrets – or almost all. Anne smiles wickedly and whispers to Mr. Hanson briefly. He listens, nodding.
"Put your hands between your knees, please, June. Hold the wood that way, if you don't mind."
June tries to do as she's been told, but the central trough of the bench isn't wide enough. She has to kneel astride this so that she can pass her arms between her knees. This raises her bottom another few inches and leaves her displaying all her charms. Mr. Hanson can now see the soft undercurve of her stomach between her legs, and her cute pussy is completely exposed amid her fine gold pubic hair as she lays the wood over her legs. Her hands appear between her legs, palms upward. She grips the wood and pulls on it which makes her position still better, though perhaps not from her point of view, elevating her cute bum even higher! It is clear she is unhappy at the indignity of this position.
"Ready, June?" He tees-up to her flinching bum-cheeks.
She nods and 'Shwitt!'. An instant fine white line blazes across her pale cheeks, and she wails "Wheeoooo!" softly, bum-cheeks squeezing madly.
On her pale skin the line seems to turn redder, quicker, until it seems to be glowing almost. Mr. Hanson waits for her to settle down, then, 'Shwitt!' Another fine white line appears like magic below her first, which seemed a bit high to Mr. Hanson. Anne shifts from one foot to the other, knowing how June feels now; hot and humiliated, and probably a little indignant at the way she's being forced to keep her bum up high. An even worse position than she herself had to endure. She senses the hot, furious pain she'll have in her bum, now. And perhaps the odd sensual spasms in her tummy.
June's head is up, now, eyes tightly shut. She shakes her head for some reason, as if she's saying no! But she isn't, this is all she can do without earning more strokes – and she knows it!
Mr. Hanson notices her delicately displayed pussy is beginning to pout moistly; Anne notices his interest.
"Shall I clear up, sir?" she asks, a model of discretion.
"No need, thanks. Off you go, now, June won't be long."
"Right, sir." Anne grins knowingly. At least she has managed to avoid the final ignominy this time, though this has happened to her on other occasions when her lack of self-control has been noticed.
She decides to remember the idea of the piece of wood and the hands between the knees. The problem is, of course: June will remember it also. She goes to retrieve her knickers, feeling vaguely jealous that it isn't her he's keeping behind.
Mr. Hanson waits until Anne leaves, and closes the door, then he delivers his final stroke, lower still on the smooth under-curves of June's pliant bottom-cheeks at the soft spot where they would crease if they weren't so high and tight. A last sharp – 'Shwitt!' and a last soft cry, and it's all over. Or nearly all over.
By the time her last stripe has flamed up into its full rosy redness June is pouting beautifully. Her sensitive pale skin has responded to the cane and is now flushed a nice rosy pink in the area of her three bright red lines.
June keeps quite still, apart from her long slim fingers which grip the wood across the backs of her thighs nervously now. She dare not move yet, and knows it. She gasps softly, unable to prevent what is about to happen, aware that Mr. Hanson knows this very well indeed, feeling ashamed that he knows, too, that she wants him to do it to her, or at the very least that she won't tell tales afterwards. A conspiracy of silence, and she as guilty as he.
"Stay there, June. You needn't hold the wood so tightly now."
June sighs softly. Her full lower lip is between her nice teeth now, gripped firmly to prevent herself from squealing, if she can. She dare not relax her grip on the wood; knows she'll grip it much harder soon.
"I may have caned you too hard," he says, "I'll put some cream on it." He doesn't say on what.
She peaks almost at the first touch of his gentle fingers, moaning quietly. She 'comes' as discreetly as she can. A little later Mr. Hanson brings her her knickers. Suddenly overcome by shyness she takes them gratefully and scampers for the door.
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