Maggie arrived at the old schoolhouse each time she volunteered as a docent at the Old Village in nearly the same frame of mind, lamenting the state of schools today. The atmosphere of this old building, relocated to this village, exuded warmth with a focus on learning. She didn’t know any better than her contemporaries about what it was really like back then, but the common perception was of a caring, maternal teacher who loved her students and wasn’t afraid to provide needed discipline when appropriate.

She went to college intending to become a high school teacher and, according to her superiors, was quite successful. She stuck with it for several years, telling herself it would get better with time; maybe she needed more experience to deal with the self-absorbed teenagers she taught. The end, for her, came during an Open House night, when quite a few parents accused her of being too hard on their precious snowflakes and suggested that the problem was her, not their entitled brats. She gave notice the next day, but agreed to stay on until they found a replacement, which thankfully didn’t take very long.

The job market was strong at the time, and she had no trouble finding a job that paid much more than teaching. She expected to miss her calling as a teacher, and the rewards of making a difference in a young person’s life, but she’d had so little of that, it wasn’t really missed – except when she walked into this old schoolhouse.

A colleague at the insurance company where she worked had told her that the Old Village was looking for volunteer docents to give presentations about various buildings and life in late 19th-century Florida. She was thrilled to find that one of the positions was in the old school building. They accepted her application on the spot, thinking she had both the teaching experience and the look that would make her a very convincing schoolmarm.

After submitting the necessary paperwork, she went immediately to the old building and smiled as she walked in. Rows of old wooden desks, with ornate cast-iron legs and the seat for one attached to the desk behind, were perfect. A blackboard and the teacher’s desk took up the front of the room, along with another small chair next to the desk, which she assumed was for when the teacher read to the class.

She’d been given a key to a desk drawer where the ‘teaching aids’ were located. She opened the drawer and took out several items that would normally sit on the teacher’s desk, but were locked away to avoid theft when the room was unattended. A plastic laminated script for what she’d be telling visitors captured her attention for several minutes. She was told she didn’t need to recite the script verbatim and could discuss the points of interest in her own way once she’d settled into the role. She was surprised to see an optional section to use if questions about school discipline arose.

She felt a slight but familiar twinge between her legs thinking about the possibility of openly discussing spanking with a group of strangers. She set it aside and went back to the drawer, only for that feeling to return even stronger as she removed a hairbrush, then a wooden school paddle, and finally a leather strap. She worried that showing these to visitors would be difficult for her, reviving long-suppressed desires to use such implements on a deserving man’s unprotected backside. Would she be able to hide such feelings when they were so strong?

She locked everything up again, but took a picture of the script with her phone so she could memorize it and practice giving the presentation, the first of which would be just over a week away.

She arrived that first Saturday afternoon with butterflies in her stomach. She would be essentially acting the part of a teacher, though a very different version from the one she’d actually lived for more than six years. Still, she was excited to return to something at least related to teaching, her first love, which had been spoiled by unruly students and absent parents.

The woman who interviewed her, Elizabeth, was there to see how she did with the first few groups of visitors and offered her compliments with a few constructive suggestions to make it more engaging. She returned for the last presentation and again congratulated Maggie on her performance.

“May I ask you a question, Elizabeth?”

“Sure! And call me Liz, okay?”

“Okay, Liz,” she started, but opened the desk drawer and removed the least menacing item: the hairbrush. “I was a little surprised to find these items in the drawer, and I noticed the optional script item regarding school discipline.”

Liz smiled and didn’t wait for an actual question to respond.

“Believe it or not, those items, as well as almost everything in this room, came with this old schoolhouse when it was relocated from a northern rural county here in Florida. They went through the same restoration process as everything else here. If it were up to me, I’d get rid of them, but the historians thought they, and the spanking chair, were part of life in schools back then and contributed to the authenticity of the exhibit. Though I’ve never heard them, I understand some visitors ask about it. I would answer any such question as simply as possible without getting into anything too descriptive.”

“This is a spanking chair? I thought it was for the teacher to sit in when reading to the class,” Maggie chuckled.

“I’m just going by what the historians said. Allegedly, it was left in full view as a constant reminder of the consequences of bad behavior. Anyway, great first day, Maggie!”

Even that seemingly harmless discussion had Maggie pressing her thighs together; the thought of sitting in that spanking chair and taking a deserving man over her knee for a good spanking was a powerful stimulant. She was glad Liz didn’t hang around any longer as she locked the drawer, gathered her personal belongings, and left for home.

All the way home, she thought of the one boyfriend she’d had who had allowed her to live out her fantasy. She remembered the exact feelings of authority and control as he stood before her, playing the role of a lover with a wandering eye. As she scolded him for his latest lewd act of staring lustfully at a scantily clad co-ed, she’d opened his pants, pulled them down, and guided him over her knee still in his underwear. The feel of her hand smacking his ass, clad in tighty-whiteys was incredible, second only to the even more arousing spanking when his bottom was bare.

By the time she got home, she was sure she was as wet as that day when, after the spanking, she’d insisted he thank her for spanking him by burying his face in her crotch. She could still picture his face, shiny wet around the mouth with the juice from her pussy, and his bright red bottom beyond, as he knelt to his task.

She knew exactly what she needed as she entered her small house. Dropping her keys and purse at the door, she headed for the second bathroom to run a bath. While the steamy water splashed into the tub, she poured herself a glass of Chardonnay, set it and her tablet on the toilet seat next to the tub, and went to her bedroom to get undressed. As she lowered her panties, she allowed herself a quick finger through her slit, confirming the abundance of her slick secretions. She gasped once and returned to the now-full bathtub.

Slipping slowly into the hot water, she let it gradually claim her whole body, and just sat for a few minutes with her eyes closed, relaxing in the soothing water. A few sips of wine helped her body and mind calm completely, and she picked up her tablet, logged into Lush Stories, and found her favorite story to read once again.

It was the ongoing tale of a woman whose husband shared her interest in spanking, each chapter describing in stimulating detail another reason for his needing the correction of his wife’s hand on his always-bare bottom. Positions, implements, and severity changed, but the end result was always the same: a satisfied husband with a battered and bruised bottom, licking and fucking an even more satisfied wife.

She imagined herself married to Evan, the naughty boyfriend she’d spanked, living the life this fictitious couple shared, inventing all sorts of scenarios that resulted in repeated spankings of his always available and deserving bottom. She pictured his red ass in her lap, and then his face between her legs as her fingers pretended to be his tongue.

“That’s it, Evan!” she said out loud. “Lick my pussy and do it right or you’ll be back over my knee for another spanking!” she shouted as she neared her climax, and “Ohhh yesss!” when it did, her body quivering in the still warm water.

Inevitably though, this fantasy always left her feeling mournful about having lost him shortly after that memorable evening. She knew it wasn’t him she missed so much as having someone to make her spanking fantasies a reality.

She’d stopped reading before the chapter where he longed for his ‘Mommy’s’ knee for the inevitable spanking. While the thought of adults engaging in spanking games was the stuff of dreams, she found the act of spanking children abhorrent. Even if it deterred bad behavior, it left the poor child bruised in a more permanent way than the physical punishment itself.

Recalling the conversation with Liz, she agreed. She’d get rid of anything related to the spanking of schoolchildren, the historian’s claims of authenticity be damned.

Jonathan had been a frequent visitor to the Old Village. Something about this time, this era, appealed to him. It was a simpler time where people worked hard to support a family, not to get the biggest house, fastest car, or latest electronic gadget. What people expected of you was simpler too; be respectful, helpful, and kind. You weren’t always looking over your shoulder, figuratively speaking, for the next person who might try to scam you in some way. It was an idealized, but common view of the ‘good old days.’

It had been a few months since he’d been to the village, but he felt a welcoming warmth as he walked among all the period-specific buildings, shaded by live oaks and long needle pine trees. The sweltering heat of summer was mostly past, and a cool breeze made the village gazebo a pleasant place to sit and ponder one’s thoughts. He felt like he belonged.

He tried to visit all the homes, businesses, and public places on each visit, but time was occasionally a factor, and while he liked all the exhibits, there was one he never missed: the schoolhouse, especially on the alternate Saturdays when docents were present in most buildings.

Over age forty, his schooling was decidedly different from current practices. The absence of the internet, social media, and mobile phones were major factors, and it too was a simpler time when those so-called advances in technology didn’t shape all interactions between students and teachers. In both years and several other ways, his experiences were far more removed from the old schoolhouse he now entered than current practices, but he still identified more with the old ways than the new.

He smiled as he walked into the familiar building, glad nothing had changed in the layout, furnishings, or exhibits. A couple of visitors were already there, waiting for the docent to begin on the half-hour. He shuffled around the single room, enjoying the familiar surroundings, when the docent turned around to address the small group.

“We’ll get started in just a minute or two,” Maggie said, checking her watch to be sure she didn’t start before the prescribed time.

Jon was instantly captivated, at first by her sweet voice, but then by her whole appearance. She was much younger than the prior docent, younger than he was as well. Her face, compared to her much older predecessor, was striking, not only in its youth, but in her beauty. She had a pretty and kind face framed by long brown hair she’d parted on the side with a clip to hold it in place. Her voice was soothing as she spoke, though he wasn’t really hearing what she was saying, so enthralled with her appearance was he.

He noticed her dress: an exotic red-and-black print with a button front and a wide black belt around her waist. It was a more modern style, but it also had elements that fit the part and period she was playing: puffy sleeves, a loose fit, and a length well below the knee. Probably not period-correct, but not obviously so.

His reverie would be briefly interrupted by laughter, hearing only part of her ‘Three R’s, reading, wRiting, and aRithmetic’ phrase meant to be a humorous recollection of the times. He watched her pace the front of the room, pointing out various teaching aids on the walls, and found that she reminded him of teachers he’d had a crush on in his youth. It wasn’t that she looked or sounded like them, but had she been a teacher of his, he knew he’d have had a crush on her too.

Maggie noticed the man, standing by himself the whole time, seemingly lost in thought while his eyes followed her around the room. He smiled pleasantly and was dressed in such a way as to seem a kind man. He remained motionless as her presentation ended, apparently unaware that everyone else had filed out of the room.

“Did you have a question, sir?” she asked, which seemed to wake him up.

“Oh. No. I was just daydreaming while listening to your pleasant voice. It was a good presentation! Thank you, Miss … um, Miss Maggie!” he finished reading her name tag and headed out the door.

Two weeks later, Maggie was back in the old schoolhouse doing her thing. She recognized that same man from the last time, back again. It seemed odd that he should return so soon. If he stayed behind again, she’d talk with him a bit more.

Jon had thought often of the pretty Maggie seemingly in her element in the schoolhouse and had planned to return as soon as he’d left last time. There was something about her that attracted him, and he hoped he could screw up the courage to ask her out for a cup of coffee or a simple meal.

This time, he listened as Maggie spoke about what it was like to be in such a school over a hundred years ago. The audience was appreciative and had more questions than usual, but one question about discipline in the school grabbed his attention. Maggie answered plainly, saying discipline was up to the teacher, confirming that a student might be spanked for disrupting the class or misbehaving in some other way.

Jon listened to the short exchange with rapt attention. Hearing pretty Maggie mention spanking so casually had him thinking differently about her. With a suppressed dream of being taken over the capable knee of one of his crushes and spanked for some perceived bad behavior, he was instantly imagining himself lying in Maggie’s lap, about to feel her punishing hand on his unprotected bottom.

Maggie’s original concern about answering such questions took on a different tone when she noticed how Jon’s eyes opened wide, and his acute attention to what was thankfully a short exchange. She didn’t think she’d revealed any of her own interest in the subject, but how would she know? She’d had very few questions about discipline in the few months she’d been at it, and they were all pretty much as simple as this was, but she wondered whether it was her or him that was hinting at a secret.

The room emptied, and Jon stayed behind, coming to the front of the room to speak to her. Was she going to find out?

“Hello again, Miss Maggie,” he started respectfully. “I don’t know if you remember me, but I was …”

“Yes, I remember you from two weeks ago. You know my name; what’s yours?”

“Jonathan, or Jon, really. I was a bit absent-minded last time, but I listened to you this time, and you did a wonderful job.”

“Well, thank you, Jon! It was pretty much the same as last time,” she said without mentioning the visitor’s question.

“You seem very comfortable in this setting,” he offered as another compliment.

“That may be because I was a teacher for over six years when I graduated from college.”

“That must be it, but it’s a very different climate today than it was then, isn’t it?”

“Very much so!” she started, and she was as surprised as he was to hear what came from her mouth next. “Today it’s the parents who would benefit from the discipline that visitor was asking about!”

Though it was something she fervently believed, she immediately regretted saying it, especially noticing Jon’s interest piqued. Feeling she’d stepped over a line, she again worried if her interest had been evident when that question came up.

“I was wondering if you’d consider having some coffee or dinner with me?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Jon. I can’t right now, but – maybe ask me again another time?” she answered without shutting the door on him, but not comfortable with accepting his invitation at this point.

“Okay. Maybe another time. Goodbye, Miss Maggie!”

“Goodbye, Jon. It was nice to meet you,” she said kindly.

Shaken a little by the exchange, Maggie took a walk around the village for five minutes until her next talk and returned to the classroom in a calmer state of mind, but by the time she was expecting her four o’clock group to arrive, she was glad the end of the day was near.

It was a larger-than-normal group, but when Jon came in again and stood to the side as he had before, she grew a little nervous. He smiled and waved in a friendly way, which only eased her nerves slightly, but her presentation went off without a hitch.

When she finished, a frail, elderly woman, with white hair and a walker, raised her hand, and Maggie smiled, wondering if it was the classroom environment that had most visitors obediently raising their hands to ask a question.

“Yes, ma’am. You have a question?”

“Yes. When I was young and got in trouble at school, my grandmother would tell me what would have happened if she had behaved as I had when she was in school. She claimed she would have been spanked by the teacher. I never quite believed her back then,” the woman said, chuckling at the memory.

“Yes, ma’am,” Maggie started, having already seen Jon’s antenna go up with the question. “We don’t really know how often that happened, but there is documentation that says it did, in fact, take place, though each teacher would have their own way of handling discipline in their class.”

“She also said the boys got it worse than the girls!” the woman added, laughing this time, and others joined in.

Seeing Jon’s riveted attention told her it was him, not her, letting inner desires show, and she decided to answer the question a bit more suggestively to see his reaction.

“It may interest you to know that the contents of this classroom came intact when they relocated this building here from a rural county in north Florida. The teacher’s and student desks, much of the teaching aids on the wall, and … the spanking chair,” she said, standing behind it with both hands on its low back. “And,” she continued as she went to open the desk drawer, “the contents of the desk.” She took each implement out singly, placing the hairbrush and paddle on the desk, and holding up the leather strap. “Does that answer your question, ma’am?” she asked.

The group laughed, and for the first time she received applause before the crowd filed out.  

Maggie expected to see Jon stay when the room emptied, but was surprised to find he must have slipped out unnoticed with the others. She wasn’t sure whether that meant anything, but noticing she had a full fifteen minutes before the next, and last, presentation of the day, she decided to use the ladies’ room now instead of when she was done.

Jon had actually snuck out before the group and was sitting in the gazebo trying to rein in his thoughts after Maggie’s response to the woman’s question had aroused him so. Twice she’d looked over at him during the exchange. He couldn’t shake the image of her sitting in that chair, about to pull him down over her knee for the spanking he felt a new desperation to receive.

When he saw Maggie leave, heading to the welcome center, he made a quick decision and practically ran the short distance back to the classroom. He looked around before entering to see if anybody appeared to be heading in his direction and went inside, approaching the spanking chair warily. He ran his hand over the seat as though it might speak to him in some way, and then, looking around again to ensure he was alone, laid himself across it. The image of lying in Maggie’s lap came as a powerful vision, keeping him in the chair longer than he intended.

Maggie got to the welcome center, noticed how busy the whole village was, and saw a line outside the restroom, so she decided she could wait. As she walked back, she thought she might see Jon still in the area. She looked quickly around again just before entering the classroom and stopped in her tracks when she saw him lying over the chair.

“Jon? What are you doing?” she asked in an authoritative tone.

“OH!” he cried, trying to get up quickly and stumbling in the process. “Oh, um, nothing!” he replied guiltily.

“Oh, I think it was more than nothing, Jon. Don’t you?” she asked as she walked up to him.

“Um. I don’t know. It was just … um, nothing,” he said, noticing her piercing brown eyes staring at him. He’d look briefly and look away, unable to maintain eye contact.

“Okay, Jon. There will be people arriving any second, so listen carefully. I want you here for this group, and I want you to stay after class when they’ve left. Do you understand?” she instructed, hoping the after class phrase was more than a subtle hint.

“Yes, Miss Maggie,” he replied with eyes cast down.

Maggie was quivering with excitement inside. She was certain she was reading the situation correctly and could already picture him lying obediently over her knee, expecting to be spanked.

“I think you know what’s going to happen then, don’t you? And it won’t be to go get a cup of coffee or dinner. Do you understand that as well?”

“Yes, Miss Maggie,” he replied, also excited beyond words.

“You’ll do exactly what I tell you?”

“Yes, Miss Maggie!” he said once more, with even more enthusiasm in his voice.

“Good boy!” she replied just as a small group of people entered the classroom.

One more couple joined them, and Maggie got started. She was surprised that her anticipation seemed to enliven her presentation rather than distract her from it. She almost wished she’d have another question about school discipline, but as she’d never even had two in the same day as she had today, she doubted she’d have a third.

Jon faded to the back of the room, not wanting anyone to notice his nervousness. She hadn’t actually said what she was going to do, so he still worried that he was misinterpreting what she was saying, something he was wont to do with women. The scene with his ex-wife played as a loop in his mind, where he’d finally summoned the courage to ask her to spank him and she’d responded by calling him a pervert and a wimp. Months later they were divorced, and he’d remained single ever since.

The last group left, leaving him alone with Miss Maggie again. He watched her, nerves about to shake him to pieces, as she pulled the long blinds down on the windows, seemingly to conceal her actions, unaware that she always did that at the end of the day. She remained silent as she went to the door, closed and bolted it, and then returned to the front of the room.

“Come here, Jonathan,” she said, adding the formality of his full name. She couldn’t keep a small smile in seeing him shuffling nervously to face her. “You’ve been naughty, haven’t you, Jon?”

“Um. Yes, Miss Maggie,” he said, with a shaky voice.

“I think you know what happens when you’re naughty, don’t you, Jonathan?”

“Y-yes, Miss Maggie.”

“Tell me what happens!” she said in a demanding voice. She’d played these scenes in her mind so many times, it felt quite natural.

“OH!” he cried at the sudden command. “They, um … they get … spanked?” he said like he was guessing.

“Are you questioning such discipline, Jonathan? Maybe you think you don’t deserve a spanking?” she asked, and when he didn’t respond, added, “Well!?”

“Oh, no! No, Miss Maggie! I do!” he replied, panicked and afraid she might not actually do it.

“You do what? I want you to tell me exactly what you think I should do about your naughty behavior!” she said, her voice rising in volume just a bit with each statement.

She sat in the small chair, and he instinctively moved to her side, his eyes opening wide when she pulled her dress up to reveal her lace-topped stockings.

“Yes, Miss Maggie. Um. I think you should … sh-should put me over your knee and … and spank me! Yeah, give me a … a spanking!” he stammered, his excitement at the prospect visible.

“Good boy,” she said as she took his wrist and guided him onto her lap. She wrapped her left arm around his waist and pulled him in tightly, while her other hand rubbed what she only now realized was a sexy example of male buttocks.

She started with a couple of firm swats, one to each cheek, more than playful, but hardly painful. Two more, a little bit harder as she gradually progressed to solid smacks to his lower cheeks. It had been a long time since the last and only time she’d done this, and though she didn’t know it was Jon’s first time, he was clearly enjoying it.

“Oh! Mmm! Yes! Oh, God! Yeah! Thank you!” he muttered under his breath, finally getting what he’d craved for so long.

“What was that, Jonathan?” she challenged.

“Oh, nothing, Miss Maggie! I’m sorry!” he cried, fearing she’d stop if she knew he was enjoying it.

“I’ve been taking it easy on you, young man. That changes now!” Maggie said, unleashing a flurry of solid spanks to alternate cheeks.

“Oh! Ow! Yes, Miss! Ow-ow-ow!” he gasped, his aural soundtrack more fitting than before.

He didn’t care that he still had his pants on. Just the feeling of lying across her stockinged thighs with her arm tightly around his waist was arousing in itself, but her hand, smacking his ass, no matter how hard, was simply incredible. He’d never felt anything like it, as he was too self-conscious to spank himself. He declared himself in love with the act, if not the woman, and wished it would never end.

Maggie, too, was enthralled. While she’d always seen it as mock punishment, she wondered whether she liked the fact that he was enjoying it too, rather than acting with fake protest or pleas for her to stop. She’d reserve judgment on that until she’d had a chance, if she had a chance, to take his pants down and make it painful.

“Alright, Jonathan. A good bit harder now!” she warned before a fast and furious round of real spanks peppered his entire bottom.

“Ow! Oh, Miss! Yes! Oh, God!” he said, reverting to showing his pleasure, the increased force still more than tolerable with the protection of his slacks.

“You can get up now, Jonathan,” she said, smiling when he stayed in place for a few seconds more, wishing it wouldn’t end, but she’d seen the shadow of someone passing by the window, and imagined they’d already stayed longer than prudence would suggest.

Jon got up clumsily, standing beside her again. “Thank you, Miss,” he said softly, being a believer in thanking his spanker, yet wishing it was a more stimulating way of showing his appreciation.

“You’re welcome, Jon,” she said as she put her hands on his hips and moved him to stand before her. “You know we can’t go any further here without almost certainly being caught in the act.”

“Yes, I understand, Miss Maggie,” he said, ready to accept that he might have to be happy with just what he’d gotten so far.

“So, what do we do now? You have a choice, Jon. I’d be happy to have dinner with you right now,” she started, loving the smile that crept over his face. “Or we can go to my house where I can take these pants down and give this naughty bottom of yours the spanking it deserves?”

--===<<<O>>>===--

So, will Jonathan end up over Maggie's knee again to experience the real thing? If you know me, you know the answer to that question! 😁 Stay tuned for the exciting and deliciously painful conclusion to their story! Ya'll know how much I appreciate 'Likes,' 'Favorites,' and comments on my stories!! ... and THANKS FOR READING!