Discipline for Jenni: Semester 1 at C.P. Elrod Senior High

Chapter One: Jenni

She sat nervously in the chair outside the principal’s office, the occupants hidden from view by dark blinds that rattled against the windows. She couldn’t see into the schoolmaster’s lair, but she could listen, and the sounds of someone’s pitiful cries and the sharp crack of the leather strap against soft skin seemed more concrete and real than if she had been forced to watch the regimen of corporal punishment in person. Jenni stiffened in her seat as the sound of the strap changed to a wet slap that elicited an even more fervent cry.

But she wasn’t quite sure if it was the sounds of agony, or ecstasy. 

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she gripped her bare knees and smoothed down the blue plaid of her uniform skirt. The material barely covered her upper thighs, leaving a great deal of her leg showing, and she wondered again if raising the hem had been a sound decision. Or if switching out the normal white button down blouse provided by the school for a shirt of the same cut, but not the same thickness, had been wise. She crossed her arms over her chest, wishing that the translucent material of her blouse wasn’t quite so revealing. She hadn’t realized just how bad it was until she got to school. Her lack of a bra was pointedly clear, as two raised bumps, centered over easily visible pink discs, were in immediate view of anyone looking straight at her. She kicked her feet nervously, black flats swinging while the white, elastic topped, thigh-high stockings she wore, clearly in violation of the uniform standard, clung to her legs like a second skin.

 When the door finally opened, the tear-stained cheeks of another girl appeared, eyes glazed, still struggling to catch her breath. She seemed to have trouble walking, tilting as if her balance were off as she left the principal’s office. Her uniform skirt was askew, as if it had been tucked up into her waistband and only later hastily pulled downward. A little too much was revealed and Jenni couldn’t help noticing the fact that the girl wasn’t wearing panties, or that her thighs glistened with an unusual amount of moisture. Their eyes met for a moment and Jenni saw the vapid, dazed expression and realized that whatever the other girl had endured in the form of corporal punishment, it had left her disoriented and flushed. She walked away, still twitching, then left the main office back into the corridor.  Jenni sat there, only to gulp in trepidation as the man himself appeared in the doorway.

The principal’s suit coat was missing and the sleeves of his immaculate and crisply starched white shirt were rolled up to the elbows. In one hand he held the punishment strap, absurdly flexible and darkened along the tip. Jenni could see that the end was soaked, the supple brown leather saturated with moisture. She couldn’t help but wonder exactly what was on that belt! The principal glanced down at Jenni, eyes narrowing.

“And what are you here for?” he asked darkly. Jenni stood nervously, clutching the punishment slip she’d been given, her too short skirt and gauzy blouse making it rather obvious why she had been sent to the principal’s office. She held out the paper to him and he read it quickly, and then took a step back to look at her attire. His mouth turned downward in a frown.

“That skirt is entirely inappropriate,” he confirmed, noting that on her feet, the hem barely covered her bottom. “And as for those stockings,” he lamented, shaking his head. He backed up into the office, motioning her inside. “Well, come along.”

The pffice itself was a bastion of order, the oak desk huge and well organized. A leather blotter stood in the center, while a computer rested on the credenza behind the desk. There were two chairs in front of the desk, and a small sofa was positioned against the wall. Pictures of C.P. Elrod Senior Highschool were framed and positioned in various spots around the room while a hat rack stood in one corner. 

Jenni’s heart pounded as she approached the desk, the reality of what was about to happen finally permeating into her brain. She felt herself tighten and tense, waiting, unsure of what was to happen next. 

“Stand with your hands straight down along your sides, young lady.”  

Jenni nodded and followed his directives obediently. Her fingers touched her bare thighs, just as she knew they would. She had hemmed the skirt herself, shortening its depth by a full four inches, totally in violation of the school’s dress code. Now it barely covered her bottom and she had noticed a few of the boys glancing back up at her when she had walked down the stairs. She knew they were trying to catch a glimpse of what was under her skirt. The principal shook his head, the leather strap dangling from his hand. His eyes went to her thigh high stockings and another flutter of nerves sent a wave of spasms through her.  She knew her stockings were also not allowed.  

“Stockings and skirt,” he announced.  “Arms up, hands behind your head,” he told her.  She lifted her arms, interlocking her fingers and placing her hands on the back of her neck. It seemed natural and right, even as the principal set the strap down on his desk, turning to give her a more detailed inspection. Her eyes focused on his face and when his gaze moved to her bosom, she knew that he had noticed the hard tips of her breasts pressing against the fabric of her blouse, the thin material taut. His eyes narrowed and he gave her a quizzical look.

“Are you not wearing a bra, young lady?” he asked curiously.

She shook her head, not trusting herself to speak. Her nod was affirmation enough and he extended his hand, placing it gently over her left breast, squeezing lightly through the shirt. Jenni gasped as his thumb began swirling around the tight, raised tip, teasing the sensitive nub deliciously. She closed her eyes, letting out a soft moan.

“An interesting choice,” the principal said, slowly moving his hand into the depression between her breasts. “Not wearing the appropriate underclothes is just as much a violation of the student dress code as wearing a skirt that’s too short,” he informed her. His fingers found the first button and with ample dexterity, he began unfastening the small, white circles and then opened the front of the blouse, pulling it out of her skirt.

Jenni was particularly well-endowed, lush and full. Both mounds were creamy white and capped with huge pink circles that seemed to beg for attention. Her nipples, still hard and puckered, tightened even more as they were exposed to the cool air of the principal’s office. She sucked in a breath as the excitement of her predicament overwhelmed her and she could feel the rush of wetness forming between her legs. It felt as if her breasts were wild doves straining for freedom and the moment her shirt no longer held them back, they burst forward in glorious song. 

His other hand came up, both thumbs now gently teasing the tips of her breasts. She opened her eyes, looking up at him as the pleasure practically overwhelmed her. Tingles of excitement seemed to explode in her chest, shooting straight down to her sex and she let out a desperate moan.

“Not wearing a bra has earned you an additional twenty strokes,” the principal told her. “Normally these would be delivered to your bottom, along with the ten strokes you’ve earned for each stocking, and the other twenty for the inappropriate skirt.”

She nodded. She knew that. “Yes sir,” she breathed, barely able to think through the circular caress he was giving her areolas. 

“That said, so many strokes to your buttocks could prove overwhelming. I can provide you with another option.”

She looked up into his eyes, staring in wanton lust. 

“I can give you the strokes exactly where you have earned them.”

Her breath caught in her throat. It was exactly like she’d been told. She nodded eagerly. 

“Then remove your shoes and stockings.” He let go of her breasts and stepped back.

Jenni swayed for a moment, but then kicked off her shoes. They slipped from her tiny feet and she bent down, pushing the elastic stitched top of the white hose downward. Her creamy white skin seemed to glow with perfection and she knelt down on one knee to give herself stability as she slid the stretchy material off over her red painted toenails. 

Awkwardly, she took the stocking off the other leg, then stood, holding out the material, barefoot. The principal took the stockings and shoes and set them on his desk. 

“Now, you will bend over my desk, resting your chest on the leather blotter.” He pointed down at the polished desktop. She gulped and stepped close, then bent over. She felt a swirl of air around her buttocks.

“Since I will also be giving your bottom twenty strokes, I’m going to lift your skirt and tuck it into your waistband. Then I’ll pull your panties down, just enough to expose your buttocks.”

Jenni stiffened but didn’t respond, even as the principal took hold of her skirt. She closed her eyes, knowing what he was about to say, what he was about to find, and then, what he would have to do.

“Good lord,” the principal declared. “No panties either?” He made a disappointed ticking sound with his tongue, but his hand was already on her bottom, fingers squeezing, groping. “Spread your legs wide.”

She closed her eyes. Every muscle in her body was tense and she widened her stance as much as possible, placing her feet almost to the opposite ends of the desk. Cool air flowed over her sodden slit and she let out a gasp as his fingers delved deeper, through her buttocks and then even lower. 

“Failure to wear panties has earned you an additional twenty strokes,” the principal said roughly as his hand suddenly found her sex. She gasped, wriggling as she felt him probe the dripping opening of her depths. 

“Yes…” she moaned, thrusting back against his hand. She felt a bit of him inside her, a finger up to the knuckle and she wanted, needed more. 

“You’ve already opted to receive punishment on the offending body parts. We can’t change that now.” He pushed and even more of his hand slid into her depths. She felt his fingers curling inside her and she moved one hand to her breast, fingers pinching the nipple. 

“Yes sir,” she breathed desperately, waves of acute pleasure rushing through her. He continued to touch and torment her, working her insides to a froth. Whimpering with excitement and need, she squirmed perfectly, bent over his desk, an orgasm already approaching.

Which is when he pulled his hand away.

“We will deal with the slutty stockings first. Lift your right foot,” the principal ordered, wiping Jenni’s goo across her perfectly round and exposed ass. She let out a whine of frustration, but complied immediately. She wasn’t sure what to expect as he picked up the leather strap. Then there was movement, a swish, and a harsh, stinging line of heat exploded across the arch of her foot. 

“Aaaahhhh!” She squealed, jerking her foot away and putting it down on the floor. She started to push herself up, only to find his solid, firm hand on the back of her neck, holding her down. The hand holding the strap flashed down to her bare bottom, but instead of hitting her, his fingers thrust and dug, finding her still soaked slit, pushing in. The penetration changed everything and suddenly the pain was pleasure. Except more intense. She nearly swooned. 

But it didn’t last.

“Foot up. Again,” he commanded, his voice hard and unyielding. Her pussy tightened around his fingers, but she lifted her heel once more, only to yelp as he pulled his hand out of her saturated slit and slashed down once more with the strap.

The leather snapped against Jenni’s bare foot with a vicious crack and she let out another squeal, only to gurgle in shock as the principal’s fingers once more probed the grasping petals of her sex. He moved almost completely behind her, letting go of her neck, only to change which hand was thrusting into her pussy. 

“Your right foot,” he said, the fingers of his left hand now fully inside her sex. “Lift it.”

She did, bending her knee. The lash fell again, not as hard as before, but still stinging. But this time, with his hand still curling and thrusting into her sex, she didn’t pull away or put her foot down. Another stroke fell, and then another, and the pain only made her clench more tightly around his fingers. 

“Oh… Oh yes!” She whimpered, moaning. She wriggled her bottom, thrusting back against his hand even as the leather strap continued to lick at the sole of each foot, back and forth. It didn’t matter. All she cared about was the incredible way his finger was swirling and plunging through her soaked slit. The rest of the earned blows fell until each arch was stinging, ten strokes delivered to each tender, tiny foot. 

“Now you will receive the punishment for the altered skirt,” he said simply, moving to her left and pulling his hand away from her ass. She quivered, panting as his wet fingers slid across her hip, then tugged down her skirt. It fell around her ankles and she stepped out of the fallen material. 

“Spread your legs wide,” the principal ordered. She nodded, her chest heaving with excitement. She felt his left hand on her hip and his fingers slid around the front of her body, along her bikini line, straight to the soft wetness of her flower. Jenni’s eyes closed in exquisite pleasure as she felt his fingers slide into her slit, once more entering her wetness, curling and teasing. Her head hung down, nipples still tiny, hard bumps, a testament to her arousal, her long hair hiding her face as she moaned. Then he swung his right arm hard and the leather strap flashed through the air, only to flatten against her rump. She cried out, her buttocks tightening, her body thrusting forward away from the stroke, but even as she quivered under the blow, she felt his hand cupping her sex. He plunged his finger in even deeper as she bucked and the principal pulled his arm back for another swing.

Her cry from the second stroke was louder and she felt the harsh sting, even as her sweet slit clutched and clenched on the wriggling digit exploring her depths. Another stroke, and then another, left her bucking, hips thrusting as the principal wielded discipline against her bottom with brutal efficiency. Soon she was crooning, her fingers clutching at the desk, her bare bosom pressed tightly to the leather blotter, raised up on tiptoe as heat and need seemed to blossom within her like a blaze. She arched her back, teeth clenched as the last four or five strokes moved downward to the backs of her thighs, pain confusing her as it mixed with the pleasure between her legs. None of that mattered to the principal, who knew exactly how close she was to orgasm. Again and again the leather ribbon slashed across her rear, leaving scarlet whorls against pristine snow. Near the last of them, Jenni cried out, but not in pain. She felt the pressures inside her, burning and sizzling with wanton need, approach bursting, her seams tearing. Then the principal stopped, pulling his hand away from her sodden swamp and leaving her ragged and gasping. She whimpered, her teeth clenched tight to keep from begging him to finish, to fuck her, to satisfy his every need with her body, and thus giving her what she wanted as well. 

“Stand up straight,” ordered the principal.

Slowly, still trembling, Jenni pushed herself up off the desk, breasts hanging like ripe fruit. The front of her shirt fell in front of her nipples and she quickly pushed the material back, exposing her breasts again. 

“Turn around,” the principal added.

She moved slowly, sensuously, her thighs wet and slick. The carpet was rough on the bare soles of her feet and she looked at him breathlessly, wanting him to throw her down and thrust himself into her. Her eyes widened and she gulped as he raised the strap to her breasts, only to stroke one nipple gently with the edge of the leather belt. 

“Take a full step forward, then lean backward, placing your palms on the desk.”

She complied, willingly obedient. She arched her back, lifting her chin as she tilted backward. She braced herself as he continued to tease her nipple with the leather. 

“Now spread your legs as wide as you can.”

Jenni widened her stance, her bare little feet now almost to the edges of the desk itself. She arched her back, thrusting both her breasts and her swollen, desperate little slit forward.

“For not wearing a bra, you will receive twenty strokes across your bosom,” he said simply.  He lifted the leather strap and without further words, swung it at Jenni’s chest. The flexible ribbon bit into her flesh, her full soft mounds rippling from the blow. She gasped, the sting of the stroke surprising her. A line of scarlet fire seemed to flash across both nipples, burning hotly for a moment, only to fade into a sullen, aching heat. But then he brought his hand down, touching her sex again, rubbing her clit in soft circles. Jenni mewled with need and when she thrust into his hand, he let go, shaking out the leather strap.

He hit her again, without giving her time to adjust. Her chin came up, teeth clenched as the strap walloped her, leaving a second crimson mark across her breasts. Her chest heaved, pain radiating outward and inward, leaving her gasping. She lifted one foot, struggling to stay in position as the strap struck again. The heat and pain built in her breasts and another stroke only increased those sensations. Her nipples tightened as the punishment strap continued to beat mercilessly across the front of her body until she was pushing her tits forward, as if asking for each and every stroke. The principal struck her chest again with the leather strap, turning the white creaminess of her skin into strawberry-colored swirls. He worked methodically up and down her bosom, from the steep slope to the full curve, to the underside, leaving her young flesh properly marked and excoriated. When she looked as if she might burst into tears, he stopped, once more thrusting his fingers into her sex, turning her need against her.

His hand still between her legs, he lifted her. “Up,” he said. “Onto the desk. Sit on the leather blotter.”

Jenni, her breasts hot and heavy, groaned as his finger wriggled inside her, his palm cupping her sex. He lifted, pulling her up by the pussy, and she rose on tiptoe, only to slide her bottom up onto the desktop. It stung, but the pain lessened as she lay back, lifting her feet from the floor and bending her knees. She reached forward, grabbing her thighs and she moaned as his thumb began slipping back and forth over her clit.

“You will receive twenty strokes to your sex, and hopefully this will serve as a sufficient consequence to your violation of the school rules,” the principal said. He pulled his finger out of her, wiping the now goo-covered digit on her exposed thigh. He moved to the front of the desk, near her head, only to open a drawer and extract a battery powered massager. He returned to the spot between her legs and lifted the strap. 

“Five strokes, then I’ll sensitize the spot again,” he explained. 

She quivered with expectation and spread her legs as wide apart as possible. He lifted the leather strap and brought it down right on the pulsing, sensitive nub of her sex. The sound of the soft hide biting into her slit was loud in her ears and then she felt the harsh sting explode through her loins. She yelped, kicking as the sting turned to pain, which then turned to heat. She felt a spasm ripple through her and then he hit again, in the exact same spot. Jenni squealed, unable to control herself as the principal lashed her soft and delicate sex. Three more strokes, in short order, fell between her legs, pain blossoming almost to the point where she couldn’t hold herself together. Screeching, she shuddered, eyes shut, jaw clenched.

And then the massager touched her clit. 

The pain and heat changed instantly, her confused brain trying to cope with the sudden transformation. Pure pleasure surged through her, gobbling up the agony of her punishment and morphing it into something more than either the punishment or the pleasure themselves could have given. Waves of bliss rolled up her body and her chest heaved as the pressure built within her. Soon she was close to climax, whimpering and moaning with need, her hips rolling as she thrust upward into the soft rubber bulb.

It took her a moment to realize that he’d pulled the massager away, and in fact, it wasn’t until the strap once more fell between her legs that she was even able to process what was happening. But this time the bitter sting didn’t feel quite so strong and it was still stimulating, even if her pussy was clenching hard. Her fingers dug into her thighs, shifting her grip as more blows landed, hot and heavy and hard, burning her petals and searing her sensitive nub. She threw her head back, twisting and shuddering on the desk, only for the torment to once more change as he pressed the massager back against her pussy.

Except this time, she felt his fingers enter her sex as well. 

Her eyes rolled up into the back of her head as waves of utter bliss shot through her loins. Her sex tightened, convulsing as he began jamming his hand against her cunt, the massager pressing so tight it almost was pinching her clit. Within her well his fingers curled and she almost lost her grip, feet kicking as her toes curled. 

Then, like before, just as she felt herself ready to cum, he pulled the massager away, his fingers escaping the clutching wetness of her greedy cunt. The cessation of stimulation was almost more tortuous than the way the strap fell upon her pussy, slapping the wet and mushy folds of her slit with brutal efficiency. Heat exploded within her, a fire that surged and bit and burned, and it pulled her back from the edge, but only to bank the fires and turn up the pressure. The leather strap flicked down on the folds of her sex, opening them, tugging at them, and lighting fires of agony and ecstasy along her entire sex. 

“YESS!” She cried out, eyes closed. 

The principal pressed the massager back up against her pussy, this time only touching her clit and she couldn’t hold still. She thrashed around on the top of his desk, quivering violently, overwhelmed by the short circuiting of her nervous system. Flashes of hot and cold, of light and dark, of pain and pleasure, exploded through her and she didn’t know whether she was up or down. Her body tightened, rushing toward the light at the end of the tunnel, and he pulled the shaking rubber tip away from her sex and lifted the strap.

The supple soaked leather fell, flattening her clitoris, then curling down over her sex, spreading her petals and leaving a burning flash from the apex of her sex to her perineum. She screeched, arching her back, unable to cope with the fresh agony. He hit her again, the same force impacting in the same spot, and her left leg shot out, her fingers losing her grip. He pushed her wriggling limb aside and delivered the third stroke of the series, the eighteenth to her pussy, and she screamed, her other leg shooting out. She brought her hands up to her breasts, pinching her nipples as she thrashed on the desk. He grabbed her right leg, pushing it up, then her left, bending until her knees were near her chest. Then he twisted and with two vicious, hard strokes, finished her punishment.

He stepped back and took a deep breath as Jenni cried out, quivering violently. Then she shook her head back and forth, overwhelmed.

“No! No! Please! Please!” She wailed. “Don’t stop! I need… I need!” She brought her legs up, spreading them open in desperation, her freshly beaten pussy dark pink, her clit slightly swollen, her petals raw and spread. 

The principal turned off the massager. “This is punishment,” he said darkly, starting to turn away. 

“Please!” She bawled. “Please! Please… please hit me!”

And he paused. His hand twitched.

“Please…” she whimpered. Her body quivered and her deep, chocolate brown eyes looked up at him in utter desperation. She nodded, her chin dipping, and he couldn’t help himself. Slowly, he lifted the strap, raising his hand above her sex, and brought it down. Once. Twice. A third time. She screamed, once more losing control, her feet kicking as fluids exploded from her sex. His eyes widened, surprised that it was the strap that had brought her to climax. He bit his lip as she shuddered, her body rippling with spasms and he jammed the massager against her pussy as she finished her climax. He didn’t pull the buzzing, shaking rubber bulb away from her cunt until she slumped, spent and trembling, the surge of adrenaline replaced with the sweet euphoria of sexual satisfaction. 

He turned off the massager and set it down on the desk. He ignored the naked girl, her pussy dripping cum down upon his leather blotter, and he picked up her uniform blouse and skirt, setting them neatly down next to her. Then he retrieved her stockings. He stood there, gazing at her, until she finally lifted her head, eyes still dazed and unfocused, grinning stupidly.

“Your punishment is concluded. Get dressed,” he ordered. She pushed herself upright, only to wince and groan. She looked down at her chest. None of the lines across her breasts were deep, but she could certainly see where she’d been hit. She wriggled a bit, noticing that her bottom felt almost the same. Then she put a hand down between her legs, shocked at the sensitivity of her sex. He tapped his fingers impatiently on the desk and she nodded, hopping down. She turned, picked up her skirt, and bent over, stepping into the blue plaid material. She pulled it up, covering her freshly spanked bottom, then pulled on her shirt, buttoning it up over her aching boobs. She then stood on one foot, pulling her stockings up. 

“I hope you’ve learned your lesson,” the principal said, watching as she slipped her feet into the dark pumps. “If you violate those rules again, not only will you get the same punishment, but there will be further consequences,” he explained. He pointed her toward the door and she wobbled in that direction. She drew her hand down over her face, wondering if tears had streaked her makeup. Then she licked her lips and looked up at the principal. His eyes seemed to burn with delight, with need, with desire. 

“Yes sir,” she whispered softly, passionately, longingly. “I understand.” 

“Off you go,” he ordered, only to give her a soft pat on the bottom. She grinned as he opened the door to his office. “I hope you’ve learned your lesson.”

Another school girl sat there waiting, an expectant, excited look on her face. She too was wearing the school uniform, except the skirt was too short, her blouse too tight, and the raised bumps of her nipples perfectly silhouetted. 

Jenni smiled. She’d learned her lesson all right. She knew exactly what she would wear to school the next day.