Spanking On The Last Day Of School: Teacher Spanks Student
Summary:
On the last day of school, Miriam goes too far with her teacher, Mr. Brandt. He takes her into an empty staff room, pulls her over his knee, and pulls down her panties. Then he spanks her bare bottom.
Teacher Leads Student Into Locked Staff Room
The sun blazed through the open window, and the air in the classroom was heavy. Everyone was whispering, laughing, signing each other’s memory books. I came late – not by accident, but because I wanted to. Ten minutes after the bell, I stood in the doorway, sunglasses on, gum in my mouth, bag hanging loosely from my shoulder.
Mr. Brandt, who was standing at the desk, looked up instantly. His gaze locked on me. The room fell quieter.
“Miss Meier.” His voice was deep, clipped. “Wait outside.”
I shrugged, dropped my bag, and stepped out. Inside, I already felt that restless tingle I didn’t want to admit. He hated it when someone broke the rules. And today I wanted to see just how far I could go.
Two minutes later, he came out. The door closed behind him, his footsteps were firm.
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“Come with me.” No explanation, no softening in his tone.
I followed him down the hallway to the small staff room at the back. Door shut, key turned. The room was cool, yellowed walls, an old desk in the center.
Teacher Pulls Student Firmly Over His Knee
“It was just the last day, Mr. Brandt…”
“Shut your mouth.” He dragged a chair into the middle of the room, sat down. “You’re going to learn there are limits.”
I blinked. “You’re serious?”
“Yes.” His grip on my wrist was firm. “Come here.”
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Before I knew it, he’d turned me around, and the next moment I was lying facedown across his thighs. My heart was pounding.
My skirt slid up to the top of my hips, and I felt the cool air on my skin. His left hand was heavy between my shoulder blades, holding me down.
Smack. The first swat landed hard and dry. I jerked, breath catching in my throat.
The second came right after, on the other side. He didn’t speak, and that silence made every swat hit harder.
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Teacher Pulls Schoolgirl’s Panties Down To Her Knees
After the fourth, I began to twist, shifting my hips away – but he countered with a small movement of his thigh to keep me in place.
“Stay still.” Deep, curt.
I felt my skirt riding higher. Then his fingers caught the waistband of my panties.
“Mr. Brandt… please…”
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The fabric was already sliding down, slowly over my bottom, then quickly to my knees. Now I was bare across his lap, my face burning with shame.
The next swat made me flinch. My skin was already warm, and now it burned instantly.
Smack. Smack. He spanked evenly, alternating left and right, sometimes landing lower so the sting wrapped over my upper thighs.
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Student Squirms And Kicks Under Hard Spanking
I kicked reflexively, my feet tapping the floor, toes curling. Every time I tried to close my legs, his knee pressed between them to keep me open.
My breathing sped up. My skin throbbed hot, and at the same time, my stomach tightened – not just from the pain.
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Between swats, his hand would rest briefly on my bottom, firm, as if checking how hot my skin had become. That short, heavy weight made me squirm even more, even though I didn’t want to.
“Stop wriggling.” No rise in his voice, but the tone made me obey.
I tried to hold still, but the next swat landed deep, and an involuntary “Ah!” slipped out. I bit my lip.
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Teacher Releases Humiliated Student After Long Punishment
He kept spanking. I lost count – all I knew was that my skin now burned so hot I thought it must be glowing. Every swat sent a jolt through me, made me flinch, and yet… made me want something I didn’t dare name.
A particularly hard swat landed twice on the same spot, and I whimpered softly.
“Not done yet.”
He held me more firmly, his forearm pressing me down across my back so I couldn’t squirm. Now he took his time, spanking slower but harder, each movement of his hand placed with precision.
I could feel my body reacting: my muscles tightening without my consent, my hips lifting slightly with each swat as if offering themselves. That made it worse, because I knew he could feel it.
The mix of burning heat, his firm grip, and the complete helplessness emptied my head. All that remained was the feel of his hand, the sting in my skin, and the sound echoing loud in the quiet room.
At last, he stopped. His hand stayed on my bottom, warm, heavy, almost possessive.
“Get up.”
I pulled my panties up first, then my skirt. My legs felt unsteady, and every step stretched the hot skin.
He was already on his feet, unlocking the door. No glance, no comment, as if the matter were finished.
I walked out, down the hall, and felt every inch of fabric on my skin. It was humiliating, it was degrading – and yet I knew I’d carry the memory of it for a long, long time.
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