Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 87050 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 435(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87050 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 435(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
With that, he hooked his fingers into the waistband of the snow-white drawers and tugged them down to Lydia’s knees. I couldn’t help but gasp at the sight of her bare bottom, the pale flesh quivering slightly as Lydia shifted nervously.
Suddenly, I felt a familiar tingle between my legs—my governor activating in response to the arousal I couldn’t quite suppress. The device curbed the heat that threatened to build in my core, leaving me with a frustrating awareness of my body’s reaction without the satisfaction of full arousal.
Dr. Porter noticed my reaction and smiled knowingly. “Ah, yes, Miss Tessara. You’re experiencing the effects of your governor, aren’t you? I imagine it’s currently set to level five, which allows for some arousal but prevents you from becoming too… distracted.”
He turned his attention back to Lydia, who remained bent over the desk, her bottom bare and offered for discipline. “Now, Miss Lydia’s governor is usually set to seven, as is standard for our pupils. This allows for a higher level of arousal, which is important for their education in wifely duties. However, for the purposes of this punishment, I’m going to lower it to four.”
As he spoke, Dr. Porter retrieved a control device from his pocket. With a few taps, he adjusted Lydia’s governor. I saw the young woman’s body tense slightly, no doubt feeling the change in her body’s sensations.
“This will ensure that Miss Lydia feels the full sting of her punishment, without the cushion of pleasure that might otherwise dull the lesson,” Dr. Porter explained. “You will, I imagine, note that as we proceed, Miss Lydia will nevertheless become quite aroused.”
From a drawer in his desk, he produced a long, slender cane made, I thought, of a thin branch, or perhaps a dried reed.
Dr. Porter swished the cane through the air, the sound making me flinch. Without further preamble, he brought it down sharply across Lydia’s upturned bottom. The crack echoed through the classroom, followed immediately by Lydia’s sharp intake of breath.
“One,” Dr. Porter counted calmly. “Miss Lydia, you will count each stroke and thank me for your correction.”
“O-one, sir,” Lydia gasped out. “Thank you for my correction.”
The cane whistled through the air again, landing with precision just below the first stroke. A vivid red line bloomed across Lydia’s pale flesh.
“Two,” Dr. Porter said. “Thank me, Miss Lydia.”
“Two, sir,” Lydia repeated, her voice wavering slightly. “Thank you for my correction.”
As Dr. Porter continued to administer Lydia’s punishment, he turned his attention to me. “You see, Miss Tessara,” he explained between strokes, “Miss Lydia here is quite headstrong. She requires a firm hand to guide her toward proper behavior.”
The cane fell again, eliciting a muffled cry from Lydia. “Three, sir,” she managed. “Thank you for my correction.”
“It’s not uncommon for young ladies to arrive at our academy with willful tendencies,” Dr. Porter continued, his tone conversational despite the brutal act he was performing. “Our job is to mold them into obedient, well-mannered women who will make excellent wives and mothers.”
Another stroke landed, the sound making me wince. “Four, sir,” Lydia whimpered. “Thank you for my correction.”
As the caning progressed, I couldn’t help but notice the change in Lydia’s demeanor. Despite the obvious pain she was experiencing, just as Dr. Porter had predicted there was a flush creeping up her neck, and her breathing had become more ragged in a way that seemed unrelated to her cries of pain.
“Notice, Miss Tessara,” Dr. Porter said, pausing briefly in his ministrations, “that Miss Lydia is indeed becoming quite aroused despite the lowered setting of her governor. This is a natural and desirable response. It helps associate discipline with pleasure in the female mind.”
He resumed the caning, each stroke precise and methodical. Lydia continued to count and thank him, her voice growing increasingly breathless.
“Now, regarding our other pupil, Miss Elara,” Dr. Porter gestured to the auburn-haired girl who had remained silent throughout the proceedings, “her governor is set to seven, as I told you is standard for our students.”
My gaze drifted to Elara, the other student in the room. Her face had gone a deep shade of red, almost matching her auburn curls. Her hands, atop her desk, had clenched into tiny fists, the knuckles white. With a flip of my tummy, I realized that Elara was engaged in a struggle all too familiar to me: not to put a hand in her lap, to press against the aching bud that crowned her own needy cunny.
Another crack of the cane drew my eyes back to the mortifying, exciting spectacle of the girl bent over her headmaster’s desk with her drawers down. “Eight, sir,” Lydia gasped. “Thank you for my correction.”
“This higher setting,” Dr. Porter explained, “allows for greater arousal and sensitivity. It’s crucial for a girl’s education here at the academy, you see.”
Dr. Porter paused in his caning of Lydia, resting the implement against her reddened bottom as he turned to address me more fully. “You see, Miss Tessara,” he explained, his tone taking on a professorial air, “our pupils come to the academy not just to learn proper etiquette and household management, but in great part to welcome their future husbands’ dominant, intimate attentions.”