Guest post: Miss Hasler's extraordinary initiation, by tales of naughtiness

One of my favourite story blogs, for the all-too-brief year it was active, was the wonderful tales of naughtiness. Great writing and such hot fantasies; just my cup of tea. So imagine my delight when I received an email from that blog’s author with a scene starring Miss Hasler, the young and beautiful (:P) English teacher!

Hint: I was bouncingly happy.

I am equally happy to say that I have been given permission to share this lovely piece of writing with you all, and it is with pride that I do so below. (Pride and a fair amount of humility, actually, as I was given a hundred lines to write and made to sit in the naughty chair for ten BORING minutes before I could do so). I hope that the little introduction that follows does your story justice, Sir...

*****

Miss Hasler may be in charge in her classroom (more or less), but she is just a junior teacher at her school. Diligent and modest, she did not expect to attract the attention of the school’s more senior staff. Imagine her surprise, then, at finding a note left in her mailbox, cryptically signed ‘The League of Extraordinary Teachers’:

Attn Ms Hasler

We are a group of experienced, dedicated teachers. As a young and new teacher at our prestigious school, we take particular interest in your progress and the progress of your students. As you know, we adhere to the strictest standards of conduct and excellence here, and expect the best of both our students and our faculty.

Your performance so far has been satisfactory, but we believe there is room for improvement – and perhaps even an opportunity for you to join our group, if you can prove yourself. We are aware of the most recent test you administered to your class and its results. We would like to discuss these results and demonstrate some methods for achieving even better results from your students. And yes, this will include corporal discipline.

We cannot compel your compliance, legally, but we trust you will recognize the value in having a circle of senior teachers mentoring you through the early days of your (hopefully long and prosperous) career. If you are willing to submit to us, we will make you a better teacher – if you are not, then there will be no hard feelings.

We will wait in room 17 for ten minutes after the final bell. You will not receive another invitation.

The strange message occupied Miss Hasler’s thoughts that whole afternoon. A few minutes after the final bell had sounded and her class had made their noisy way out of her classroom, she took the little note out of her desk drawer and read it over once more. Curious, and more than a little afraid, she left her room and made her way down the corridor...

*****

Room 17 had clearly been rearranged during the final class period. Miss Hasler could not recall whose room this was, nor, in fact, ever seeing it in use. The layout of the classroom was certainly unconventional. At the front of the class was a wooden table, with a single wooden chair on either side of it. Behind that was a semi-circle of desks and chairs. All the desks were empty, and the table had only a thin cane and a thick ruler on it.

“Shut the door,” came a gruff voice from the back of the room. Penelope turned with a start to see Mr. Jordan, a middle-aged teacher, still well-respected and surprisingly fit, standing in the back of the classroom. Behind him was a door that led from the classroom to an office, and as Penelope shut the door she had come in from, a procession of teachers followed Mr. Jordan into the room. She was silent, and so were they, but where she was unsure and nervous, they seemed confident and almost indifferent. The teachers all sat at the desks except for Mr. Jordan, who went to the front of the room and stood behind the table.

“Sit.” He motioned at the chair on the other side, and Miss Hasler made her way over, doing as she was told. She smoothed her skirt underneath her as she took her seat. She found herself looking up at Mr. Jordan, dressed in a formal suit and tie with broad shoulders – his presence was imposing, and his demeanor seemed as hard as the chair that her rump was on. Confusion and curiosity gave way to second-guessing.

The older teacher sat down across from her, his hands clasped in front of him. “By coming here, you have signaled your willingness to submit to our organization in order to become a better, more disciplined teacher. I am going to lay out some simple rules now, and you will state your acceptance of them. The group behind you will serve as your witnesses. You may choose to refuse these rules and leave, but we both know you won’t do that. After you have officially accepted the rules, you will be inducted into the League as a probationary member. The induction process involves disciplining you as if you were a very naughty young pupil. Only after you have acceded to such a process can you be trusted to discipline your students with a high degree of rigor.”

Penelope held her breath, not daring to speak and not knowing what to say in any case. Mr. Jordan halted his rapid cadence only long enough to verify that she was not, indeed, leaving.

“Good, then let’s begin. One: you will obey senior members of the League entirely with regard to academic and scholastic matters. Two: you will never allow a student to fail through lack of discipline. Three: you will submit to scheduled and unscheduled performance reviews in front of a committee of senior League members, and any discipline that may result from these reviews. Four: you will submit to any and all discipline imposed upon you by the League in a way becoming of a growing member of our organization – that is to say, with respect, acceptance, and swift obedience. Do you accept these rules?”

Penelope could only squeak out a small “Yes.”

Mr. Jordan stood and walked around the table, saying only “Good.” With her still seated, he pulled her backwards several feet, and then turned her around to see the ring of teachers she was now in the middle of. “Stand up,” he told her, in a voice that had only the tiniest sliver of patience. She obeyed, and he immediately sat down, taking her arm and standing her to his side. Her feet shuffled nervously as he held her forearm tight. “You must accept the entire discipline process in order to become a probationary member. If you cannot do so, then your invitation will be rescinded, and will not be reconsidered.” She started to nod her understanding, but found herself being dragged across his lap before she could even raise her head.

“Penny, you need to understand exactly what happens to naughty students,” Mr. Jordan began as he rolled up his sleeves and lifted Miss Hasler’s skirt, revealing her panties for all her colleagues to see. His hand landed on her bottom with a loud thud, flattening her adult cheeks repeatedly until she was gasping and squealing like a naughty little girl. “Students who are disobedient or misbehave will be dealt with strictly, young lady,” he scolded as he continued to punish her bottom. Smack, smack, smack, smack, rang out in the classroom, and soon the dignified teacher had disappeared, replaced by a red-bottomed and red-faced little girl drumming her feet on the floor.

“And students that can’t show respect for their teacher or their peers, they need to be punished strictly as well.” Penny felt his finger inside the waist of her panties, and whimpered as her naughty rear end was put on display, but she knew better than to try and fight. Her panties were lowered to her knees, leaving her no modesty as the spanking resumed and she, quite against her will, kicked her legs into the air. Soon her bottom and thighs were red as a cherry, and finally the spanking ceased.

But the reprieve was short-lived, as Penny found herself on her feet, her skirt being tucked into the waist and her panties falling to her ankles. Mr. Jordan stood and retrieved the ruler from the table. “Now, Penny, you will learn what happens to naughty children who disrupt class. Hold out your hands, palms up.”

Penny desperately wanted to rub her bottom, but she obeyed, aware of how exposed she was. She couldn’t even shut her legs completely after the attention her inner thighs had received. So, it was a very chastised and sorry Penny who stretched out her arms and exposed her palms for penance. Mr. Jordan took hold of one wrist at a time and snapped the ruler down hard, ten stinging smacks on each palm, leaving them both red and hot.

Mr. Jordan set down the ruler and led Penelope towards the table. “Now, for the final lesson. Sometimes, little girl, students simply refuse to mind their manners or follow authority. There is only one remedy in these cases.” Penny whimpered as he picked up the cane and swished it through the air.

“Please...” she pleaded.

Mr. Jordan put a firm hand on her back. “Oh, naughty little Penny, you’ve gotten yourself in this far, it’s much too late to back out now.” And with that, he pushed Penny down over the table, her bare bottom once again the central focus of the room. Her panties were still around her ankles and her skirt still tucked in, which somehow made her feel even smaller than if they were just removed.

“I’m sorry...” she offered, hoping for some, any, leniency. She was ignored, though, and soon the cane bit into her butt. “Count your strokes, Miss Hasler, and say thank you.”

Penny cried out, shaking her backside with no dignity, but managed to say “One, thank you!” between gasping breaths. Her caning continued like this, with the next stroke just a little below the first, thin parallel lines of dark angry red contrasting against her already blushing bottom. The fifth stroke landed just between her thighs and bottom, and poor little Penny howled, her punished hands clutching hard at the opposite side of the table as her legs kicked and stamped.

After some time, she heard “We’re waiting. I don’t like to wait, and I like repeating myself even less, young lady.” Penny blurted out, “Five, thank you!”

“And the last one...” Penny squeezed her eyes shut and gripped the table as hard as she could. The cane exploded across the tops of her thighs and again she howled, squirming wildly as the cane was set down. Penny was only vaguely aware of her surroundings as she was stood up, and then made to sit in the chair, once again at the table. She winced and squirmed as her punished bottom made contact with the unforgiving wood, but no one offered any sympathy. A sheet of paper was sat in front of her along with a pen. Finally, her panties were laid down across the table – they had apparently gotten kicked off during her caning. Penny realized she should be embarrassed, but was simply too sore to care.

Mr. Jordan leaned across the table, his face in hers, and his hands on top of hers. “Naughty little children have to have privileges taken away and be made to earn them back. You, little Penny, are going to have to earn back your panties. You are going to write a hundred times, ‘I will be a good teacher.’ You will number each line, and if you make a mistake then you will start over. You will not leave here, nor will you get your panties back, until you have completed this task.”

Mr. Jordan stood upright, his eyes never leaving hers. “Begin.”