Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 57623 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 288(@200wpm)___ 230(@250wpm)___ 192(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57623 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 288(@200wpm)___ 230(@250wpm)___ 192(@300wpm)
“When I tell you to come see me, you come see me. When I tell you to stop smoking, you stop smoking, and when you have class, you attend class,” Jane lectures.
Each and every one of those words is punctuated with a hard slap to Storm’s bottom, dealt by that heavy ruler.
Storm bites her lower lip to stop herself from crying out. The striking of the ruler against her rear is no doubt audible outside the door, and she refuses to add to her humiliation by being heard crying out.
Her jeans, though worn at the seat, are still up, and this offers some protection against the veritable flurry of hard ruler blows that land across her bottom. This isn’t designed to hurt past the point of bearing. This is obviously designed to be a demonstration that she can be caught out when she least expects it. She is going to have to go back to class and sit and feel this sting and have the eyes of her classmates on her, and….
“Up,” Jane says curtly, standing back to allow Storm to rise.
When she does, her face is flushed, and her lower lip has just the slightest of quiver to it. She is working hard to hold herself together, because she will not cry here, not for anything.
Jane is as stern as ever, clearly intent on making an impression. “I will deal with you properly when you come see me at 3 pm.”
“We’re not done?”
“We are not done,” Jane confirms. “3 pm. Today. Not a minute later. No excuses. If you are late, it will be one extra stroke of the cane per minute.”
“One stroke… extra?” That word does not bode well for… anything.
“And…” Jane reaches out and pulls the half-pack of cigarettes out of Storm’s left front pocket. “No more of these.”
She opens the door to allow Storm to leave. Storm does, grabbing the books she dropped on the chair and making what starts out as a quick escape. If she had any sense at all, she’d shut up as she’s passing Jane, but pride won’t allow it. Just as she’s leaving the room, she opens her mouth again.
“They’re like, four francs. Whatever.”
“Excuse me?”
Jane pulls Storm back into the office by her collar, shutting the door carefully and quietly behind her. She fixes her rebellious charge with a stern stare and issues a thoroughly embarrassing order.
“Pull your pants and underwear down, and stand behind the chair. Now.”
Storm looks at her in horror.
“Do not keep me waiting,” Jane says in a tone that carries with it a whole world of dark potential.
Very much against her will, Storm does as she is told, glad that they’re loose and will slide down without much effort on her part. She cannot believe this is happening just because she said something about the price of cigarettes. What a tyrant this Jane is proving to be. She pretends not to care that she is bare, a pretense that quickly becomes very hard to maintain when Jane takes the ruler, and this time applies it to her bare cheeks in swift, hard rounds of four.
The warmth she had in her cheeks immediately blossoms into a roaring fire. Sucking air into her lungs in the effort to keep breathing through each and every harsh swat, she leans forward and grips the back of the chair, putting herself inadvertently into an even better position to be spanked. A good dozen strokes of the ruler land on her bare bottom before Jane stops and lectures her again.
“I understand that others in your life have tolerated argumentativeness and backtalk. I will not. When I tell you something, I want to hear, yes ma’am, understand?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Storm answers quickly, more gasping than talking as she burns with Jane’s disciplinary ire. Tyrant or not, she is clearly someone who is going to have to be contended with. Storm finds herself reconsidering many of her recent choices.
But surely it’s over now. Class has to have started, and Jane doesn’t want her missing class. Two minutes ago, Storm would have said something to that effect. Now, she doesn’t.
“You may pull your pants up,” Jane says.
Doing so hurts but is a relief. Storm wants nothing more than to escape this little office. There is so much pressure being put on her to be good here, she can barely take it.
Once she is properly dressed again, Jane drops a cigarette on the floor in front of her, and looks at Storm expectantly.
“Crush it.”
“What?”
“Crush it like you put out the one in the park.”
“Why?”
Jane’s brow rises and Storm makes the sudden connection between what she was just told about saying yes, ma’am.
“I mean okay, sure, whatever…”
“Whatever? I am going to erase that word from your vocabulary, young lady,” Jane informs her. “It is the very height of rudeness and disrespect. You do not speak that way to me. When you address me, it will be clearly and coherently, and not as a snarky little afterthought. Understand?”