She always says, “Yes, Teacher”

Cara kneeling down while Daddy strokes her back

I’m giving #smutober a quick go. We’ll keep it short. Today, October 3rd, is education and teacher discipline

She was nervous as she walked down the silent hall, her Mary Janes making a clacking sound on the tile that heightened her anxiety. The closer she drew to the classroom door, the tighter her nerves became until she was trembling.

“Come in.” The voice demanded.

Taking a steadying breath, she walked into Mr. Michael’s room. He was working on the exams they’d taken earlier. The one she’d failed to prepare for and tried to ask for an extension on. The one he’d given her a hard look over and handed to her anyway. The one he’d glanced at when she handed it back in and demanded she return after classes to discuss.

She fidgeted by the door, waiting for him to acknowledge her.

“Cara, come stand beside my desk, please.”

His command made her straighten up and scurry to him. When she was close enough to touch, he lifted her test up and showed her the large F circled in the center.

”Oh. God.” She nearly sank to the ground.

There went her grade for the class. From a decent A right into the basement. She was so dead and couldn’t seem to think of a solution this late in the semester.

“Mr Michael…”

“Cara, I’m disappointed in you.”

Just hearing him say that made her feel shame to the depth of her soul. She’d always had a bit of a crush on Mr. Michael and excelled under his praise be guidance. To see the disappointment, was nearly too much.  She was usually diligent with school, but things had been tough at home of late.

“I’ve heard about things,” he continued as if hearing her thoughts. “Why didn’t you come to me before this morning? You’re an excellent student and math is your best subject. You know I could’ve helped you.”

She found herself fidgeting again. It was embarrassing to ask for help. She’d tried managing on her own and it had obviously backfired on her.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Michael.” She wanted to cry and just barely held back her tears.

“You come to me for everything, Cara. While you’re my student, I care a great deal for you. More than you know.”

There was a wealth of things she couldn’t quite understand coloring his voice.

He stood and made his way to the closet near the door. Cara watched as he removed the paddle he used to discipline disruptive students. She stepped back involuntarily when he returned to where she stood.

“Bend over my desk and lift your skirt.”

“I’m sorry,” she began in earnest. “Please, I’ll do better on the next exam.”

He reached out to place a staying hand on the back of her neck. Having him touch her, even as she still trembled with fear of the paddle, comforted her. He turned her to face him, holding her gaze.

“This,” He hefted the paddle to show her, “is to remind you not to bottle things up any longer. I’m here to help you and you must come to me. You will cry, but I think that’s what’s required right now.”

Her chin wobbled, but she felt how much he wanted to help her. The look on his face, the way he held her, communicated his care. Cara found herself nodding.

“Yes, Mr. Michael.”

She let him guide her around until she was leaning forward, his hand remained at her nape as she flipped her skirt up to show her panty-clad bottom.

“Panties down, Cara.”

Her face flamed, but she did as he asked. He moved his hand down to her shoulder and stepped to her side.

“I want you to count and I want you to think about why we’re here. I want you to remember to ask for what you need more than anything. Do you understand, Cara?”

He laid the cool paddle against her bottom, the width of which seemed to encompass so much flesh. She felt that tremble began anew and something else uncoil in her belly.

“Y-yes, Mr. Michael.”

The paddle lifted from her skin and she held her breath.

“Then let us begin.”

Cara kneeling down while Daddy strokes her back in post about called Teacher


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