She was the third child and her mother, Lydia, was happy that she finally had delivered a girl.
Her sons were beautiful and well-mannered children, and they would certainly play there role,
but to continue the legacy she needed to have a daughter.
The Taylor’s were extremely rich.
Renting out farms, houses and other property turned out to be a lucrative business.
They still owned all the land in Taylorsville,
and had created contracts that were so complicated that nobody really knew what they were signing.
The only thing that the people cared for was that the rent was cheap,
and the Taylor’s took good care of their town.
Ethel grew up to be a beautiful young and smart woman,
and graduated from the Anne Taylor College in 1869 at the age of 26, after a minor setback.
At the end of her first year in college she became pregnant.
It was an accident, a pleasant one, but still it was an accident.
It happened at college, and Ethel knew exactly who the father was.
Her pregnancy was the result of a long build up, that erupted just before summer recess.
It all started in the beginning of her junior year.
One day she was called into her mother’s office.
Mr. William Wiltshire, her math teacher, sat in the corner of the room.
“Sit down my dearest.” Her mother had said.
“Mister Wiltshire has mentioned to me that you are quit disruptive during his classes.
Is that true?”
Ethel, 18 years young, was raised in a non-traditional way.
Women were supposed to find a husband, and dedicate their lives in serving their husbands.
But Ethel was a Taylor, and the Taylor’s hated this despicable system of suppression.
“I don’t think I am disruptive,” Ethel said.
She looked at Mr. Wiltshire.
William, 32 years old, was a new teacher at the Anne Taylor College.
This was his first semester and Ethel was just trying to find out what this handsome young man was made off.
It was normal for teachers to give students corporal punishments,
and students knew exactly which teacher would give what punishment.
The seasoned teachers knew that correcting Ethel was no problem,
and didn't hesitate to take her to “Mary’s room” if this was needed.
Each section of the school had its own “Mary’s room.”
An empty class, which was used to punish students if they misbehaved.
Mary Taylor, Ethel’s great-great-great grandmother, had introduced this system in 1783.
She thought that the punishment itself was punishment enough.
There was no use in humiliating students by punishing them in public.
The system worked perfectly,
and teachers only had to mention “Mary’s room” to have the students shiver in fear.
Back in those days “Mary’s room” was Mary’s office.
Mary was the only one that could give the corporal punishments,
and students were send to her office with a note saying what they had done wrong.
It was the time of increasing school rules.
Mary was strict, Mary was punctual, and Mary didn't accept any misbehavior.
“Sadistic and mean,” would have been the answer
if you would have asked one of the thousands of students she had “corrected” during her 30 year career as Principal.
“Mr. Wiltshire told me that he finds it hard to correct you,” Lydia continued.
“He is afraid that I will hold it against him if he does.”
Ethel slowly nodded and looked again at Mr. Wiltshire.
He certainly didn't look like a man who knew how to punish students.
His face was soft and gentle, almost caring.
Some of the ATC teachers had this specific look on their face.
Especially the female teachers seem to find pleasure in punishing students,
even more if they could punish her.
Ethel didn't mind, she always had loved a good spanking.
“I told Mr. Wiltshire that I expect him to punish you, if the situation requires it.
You are a Taylor, and there for an example to your fellow students.”
Lydia now turned to Mr. Wiltshire.
“Feel free to punish my daughter, or any other student, in any way you see fit.
Discipline is a good virtue and students should do as they are being told.”
She then ordered Ethel to stand up and gave Mr. Wiltshire one of her rulers.
“10 would be enough, don’t you think?”
Mr. Wiltshire blushed, took the ruler and mumbled shyly.
Ethel stretched out her arms, and turned her hands so that her palms were facing up.
“Do it!” Lydia said.
Mr. Wiltshire raised the ruler, and smacked it down on Ethel’s palms.
“1” Lydia counted, sitting behind her desk.
Ethel crunched a little, Mr. Wiltshire hit harder then she expected.
Mr. Wiltshire looked at Ethel.
She straightened her back, determined to endure this without any sign of weakness.
Ethel stared back at him, and her smile was asking if this was all that he could do.
Mr. Wiltshire was surprised.
Not a single sound came from Ethel’s lips.
Maybe he needed to hit a bit harder?
William increased the strength of his hits.
Ethel’s palms were glowing and slowly turned red.
But still she didn't crunch at all.
The only effect that his hitting had was that Ethel’s nipples erected.
Ethel noticed a subtle change.
William’s eyes seem to have started to flicker the last few hits.
Was he beginning to enjoy this?
He must be.
Ethel saw how a lump appeared in his trousers, and lumps in trousers don’t lie.
Her hands burned, but they were turning numb, so it wasn't that bad.
Most teachers would now move the ruler a bit, to make sure that students would feel every blow.
But William didn't, he kept smacking the same spot over and over again.
Ethel smiled; he will learn soon enough how to give a decent spanking.
She had that feeling again.
That special feeling in her loins that she loved so much.
That same feeling that she had when others were spanking her,
or when she would touch her vagina at night, sliding her fingers through her wet slit.
Ethel crossed her legs underneath her dress and squeezed them hard together.
Owh this felt all so wonderful.
She just wished that he would hit a bit harder… and longer.
“10” Lydia counted and stood up from her desk.
“See,” she said to Mr. Wiltshire, “that wasn't so bad was it?”
William shook his head and gave the ruler back.
Ethel looked at the lump in his trousers and noticed that it had gotten much bigger.
“You are excused my dear,” Lydia smiled to her daughter.
Ethel left and closed the door behind her.
But she didn't left right away.
She pressed her ear against the door and heard the rustling of clothes.
Her mother mumbled something, followed by Mr. Wiltshire’s moaning.
Then some more rustling, and the squeaking of her mother’s desk.
“Owh yes… yes… yes…” she heard her mother’s voice muffled through the door.
It was obvious that her mother had seen the lump as well, and acted accordingly.
Ethel shrugged and walked satisfied back to her class.
She had what she wanted, and that was good enough… for now.
Ethel had math classes three times a week.
So on one of those days she simply stopped doing her homework for Mr. Wiltshire.
This way he HAD to take her to Mary’s room, if he wanted to be taken serious as a teacher.
And so he did… he didn't have a choice.
The first week he took her there, he gave her 10 slaps with the ruler on her hands.
Ethel loved it.
She was pleased to see that Mr. Wiltshire was hitting a bit harder than he did in her mother’s office.
And at the end of the session, her nipples were as hard as a rock,
her vagina tingled and she was wet… oh so wet.
During the session she seemed to be staring at the floor.
But Ethel was paying close attention to the growing lump in his trousers.
She was still a virgin, but she and her friends did talk about sex,
One of her best friends already had sex.
She told Ethel and the other girls, how a man’s penis is small and soft
but that it can grow to a big and hard rod.
Then the man puts his hard penis inside your vagina and slides it back and forth,
until a yellowish, warm and sticky fluid shoots out of it.
Ethel was intrigued.
Every night, when she was alone in bed, she pushed a finger inside and fantasized about that story.
The feeling of something inside her was amazing,
and she would play with herself until she reached that euphoric feeling that would make her vagina soaking wet.
Imagine how it would feel if something was inside her that was much bigger than a finger.
Oh Lord, that would feel like heaven.
The second week he gave her 15 slaps, with the same result as the week before,
and the third week he increased it to 25 slaps.
“You don’t seem to learn, don’t you?” he had said after the first 15 slaps.
Ethel, standing there with burning glowing red hands, and her vagina screaming for attention shrugged.
“Math is boring.” she smiled, knowing that this would lead to more slaps.
“Boring?” Mr. Wiltshire said. “How dare you to disrespect me.
Raise your hands again.” And added 10 more slaps.
Ethel, wearing the open crotch drawers that were custom,
felt how her thighs became wet and wished he would continue to slap her.
Then things changed.
Ethel decided to raise the bar.
Not only didn't she make her homework, she also showed up 15 minutes late after recess.
“I am so sorry Mr. Wiltshire,” she smiled, “I was outside enjoying this lovely day and forgot all about school.”
William was furious.
Would this young girl ever going to respect him?
Was she really thinking that, because she was the principal’s daughter, she could get away with everything?
He grabbed her wrist and dragged her to Mary’s room.
This was going to be the last time she pulled a stunt like this.
This time he would really teach her a lesson.
Ethel’s eyes flickered while she was being dragged across the hallway, and her nipples erected.
Finally Mr. Wiltshire was manning up and taking charge.
“Here,” he said to Ethel as he patted on the empty desk in Mary’s room “bent over.”
Ethel almost moaned, knowing what he was going to do.
She laid her upper body on the desk and pushed her buttocks back.
Mary’s rooms were fully equipped with a variety of rulers, twigs, slappers, floggers, paddles and whips.
A courtesy of Mary Taylor herself, who had gathered a huge collection of whipping tools.
William, still in a rage, took a thin twig.
He knew that a thinner twig would hurt even more than a thick paddle.
And pain was needed to teach this brat some hard needed discipline.
He looked at the girl who stood there, bent over the desk, and hesitated.
Slapping her rear end was not going to work.
Victorian women wore layers of clothes which would cushion the impact.
Ethel looked over her shoulder and realized why he hesitated.
Was he going to strip the principal’s daughter half naked?
Mr. Wiltshire knew that women wore open legged pantaloons.
Lifting all of those clothes would reveal her naked buttocks,
but it would also show him her vagina, and he wasn't sure if he was supposed to see that.
Other girl’s vagina's were not a problem, but Ethel Taylor’s vagina?
The principal’s daughter’s vagina?
Ethel smiled, turned around to face him, and lifted her dress.
As fashion required in those days,
Ethel wore petticoats under her dress to accentuate the desired wasp waist.
She lifted her petticoats and showed briefly her vagina to William before she turned back,
and laid herself on the desk again.
“Well?” she said, “what are you waiting for?”
Was this girl taunting him? Challenging him?
Oh, the nerve that this girl had.
“Feel free to punish my daughter, or any other student, in any way you see fit.”
Lydia’s voice echoed in his mind.
He lifted the twig and smacked her naked bum.
Ethel moaned and crunched forward, an automatic reflex to get away from the stinging pain.
But the only thing her reflex did was pressing her vagina on the edge of the desk.
A sudden rush, caused by the stinging pain of the twig, went through her body,
a rush that wetted her vagina instantly and turned her nipples into hard lumps.
William kept on whipping her rear-end.
His eyes resting on those two beautiful shaped and smooth cheeks,
which were now slowly turning red from his twig.
He wanted to lay his hands on those cheeks, and feel the burning impact of his whipping.
But he was a teacher, an example for his students and he had to control himself.
If only his penis wouldn't have been so hard.
If only those thoughts of driving his penis between those red bums would stop.
But they didn't.
Ethel began to rock back and forth on every smack of the twig.
When William lifted the twig from her skin, she pushed backwards.
And as soon as the twig smacked down on her naked flesh, she bucked forward slamming her vagina on the edge of the table.
Oh, the pressure on her vagina was an amazing feeling.
If she angled it right, the desk would poke at that special spot just above her vagina.
She had discovered that spot months ago when she was using her fingers at night.
By accident she touched that spot which lead to an immediate explosion deep down inside her.
Now she would go to bed and totally focus on that special spot.
She used one hand to play with her slit, while the other hand was softly stroking that little spot.
She would move faster and faster until she reached that point of her inner explosion.
Her fingers were slamming inside her wet slit,
and her other hand was fiercely rubbing that spot until her body exploded and bucked up from the bed.
Mr. Wiltshire stopped after 25 hits.
The images of him fucking this beautiful young creature were blurring his mind.
God knows what would happen if he continued smacking those tempting buttocks.
“That’s enough,” he said with a husky voice.
Ethel, with bums burning like fire but still not satisfied, turned her head.
It was hard to hide her frustration,
and her brain was spinning to come up with a remark that would force him to continue.
But William had turned around to put the twig away.
He frowned; did he really saw some disappointment in the young girl’s eyes?
Disappointed of what?
That he had stopped whipping her?
No way, he must have misread her facial expression.
No girl likes to be punished, and especially not standing half naked bend over a desk.
He quickly left Mary’s room, leaving Ethel behind the desk with her dress rolled up.
Ethel raised herself, straightened her clothes and walked over to the table with all the whips, twigs and other delightful things.
She softly stroked this thing that looked like a horse tail.
It looked like a stick with a lot of little whips.
The whips were leather straps, each about 18 inches long with a little knot at the end.
There must have been at least 20 of those straps, bound together in a leather handle.
Ethel’s finger traced lovingly one of the straps till she reached the knot.
Oh this must feel amazing, she thought and kept on stroking the straps with her fingers, while she pushed her other hand under her dress.
The next week, she went a bit further.
She had woken up, and was getting ready for college.
Standing naked in front of her mirror, she thought about what to wear.
School policy required a school uniform, and women in general were supposed to dress in a certain elegant way.
She looked at the pile of clothes she had to put on.
First the open legged pantaloons, created to make it easier to go to the bathroom.
A chemise, to cover up your breasts.
A corset, to shape the waist.
A corset cover to cover the corset itself.
The Anne Taylor College forbid hoop dresses for students, which was a blessing.
Hoop skirts, with their whale bone cages, were heavy and inconvenient.
The same effect could be achieved with wearing multiple petticoats.
On top of the petticoats came the overskirt to cover it all up.
What a waste to hide your body under piles of clothes.
Suddenly she smiled; what if she would stop wearing certain pieces?
She pushed away the pantaloons and chemise.
Those items were useless, and she was not going to wear them.
Ethel took the corset, slipped into it and closed it with the hook an eye’s on the front.
It felt surprisingly pleasant and she looked at herself in the mirror.
It almost looked like that her breasts were lying on top of the corset.
They pointed, almost invitingly, straight forward.
She also shoved away the corset cover.
Her overdress was covering everything, so why did she need that?
Next problem to tackle was the amount of petticoats.
She knew girls who wore four or five, but Ethel always had stuck with three.
She put on one, the widest she could find, and was satisfied with the result.
It appeared to look like normal, but she knew better.
She finished with slipping into her overdress and was ready to go to college.
Mr. Wiltshire didn't say anything when he saw her “new” outfit.
Ethel could tell that he was surprised and that he spanked her a little bit harder and a little longer.
“It works!” Ethel smiled, folded over the table with Mr. Wiltshire behind her who just started his second row of 20 slaps, this time he used a horse crop.
Then… she spread her legs as wide as possible.
William eyes flickered.
“The little strumpet,” he thought looking at Ethel’s hairy slit from behind.
He knew, after all those weeks, that she was playing with him.
First the continuous disrespect she showed, and the talking back at him.
And now she didn't wear any undergarments and was spreading her legs for him?
This little harlot practically begged for it,
but he could play games just as good as she could, maybe even better.
She would find out how far he was willing to go.
Oh she would find out, he thought as he whipped her again with all of his strength.
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