The School Grounds - Social Studies Office

[LeChatNoir]

The office of the Chair of Social Studies is located just off the main hallway of the Social Science wing of Miss Vivi’s School for Difficult Girls and Boys. Unlike many academic, and particularly high school, offices, the door is of heavy, imposing, and solid wood. Stenciled on it in clear lettering is written:

Dr. L.C. Noir, Ph.D
Chair, Social Studies Department
Office hours by appointment

Upon opening the door, the viewer sees a spacious office, half-paneled in dark wood. The walls above the wood are painted a pistachio green, nicely setting off the dark-framed diplomas hanging on them. The diplomas indicate that the bearer holds both undergraduate and graduate degrees in history and art history. Various objets d’art around the room include a pair of crossed medieval-style swords hanging behind Dr. Noir’s desk, a meter-high reproduction of the Nike of Samothrace standing on a wooden pedestal, a high-quality reproduction of the famous Théophile-Alexandre Steinlen "Le Chat Noir" fin de siècle poster, and several dolls in the kachina style of the American Southwest. In addition to the diplomas and artwork, several large, framed maps hang on the walls, depicting the state of knowledge about the world at various points in Western history.

The furniture includes the aforementioned desk - a large, heavy piece of furniture with numerous drawers and made of dark, aged wood; a leather-upholstered desk chair; two very upright wooden guest chairs; and, oddly, a brown leather sofa underneath one of the windows. Several large plants, including a ficus tree, are scattered around the office, with a few of them hanging from large hooks set in the ceiling.

 

[LeChatNoir]

Oh, but this one would be fun, indeed. She certainly has attitude, in abundance.

Dr. N led the young woman down the hall towards the main doors from the foyer into the school proper, setting a fairly brisk pace for a man just shy of six feet in height. He gave off the impression of tightly leashed energy – calm on the surface, but with the potential to explode. He led the tall young woman through the science wing, the physical education wing, the mathematics wing, and the foreign language wing, pointing out various details including the ballet room, the chemistry laboratory, the well-equipped weight room, the language lab with its computers and headsets, and finally the geography classroom with its interactive maps and charts. He spoke of each calmly, with ample detail and enough knowledge of the subject to convince Tamsin that he was a bit of a polymath.

Finally, the tour itself concluded, he ushered her into the Social Studies Office, a well-appointed chamber that seemed a bit of a refuge from the hustle and bustle of the hallways and classrooms. With the door closed, it was almost silent in the office.

Dr. N took off his blazer and hung it on a coat tree near the door, smoothing it carefully to avoid wrinkles before seating himself on the leather sofa and turning his attention back to the still-standing Miss Walker. He, rather pointedly, did not invite her to sit. “So, Tamsin, why is it that you believe that this particular…educational institution is the one that is right for you? Or is this place just another whim, to be tossed away when you tire of it? You do strike me as the sort of young woman who has little patience for most things, particularly those things for which you do not see an immediate benefit to yourself.” His nostrils flared as he caught the scent of her cigarettes, a sensation which only served to reinforce his earlier impressions.

 

[MTPersson]

During the tour, TJ arrived at a single conclusion about her guide. He held a pretty high opinion of himself. He didn't come out and say it explicitly but it was clear from the way he held himself, his arrow straight back, and his speech that he thought he was a big deal. The sort that read a book about a particular subject and instantly declared himself an expert in the field. She smirked to herself and snorted quietly as she followed him down corridor after corridor, taking in only a small amount of what he said. Instead she tried to work out how a school such as this existed. There seemed to be too many rooms for the space.Oh, well. I guess it must all fit otherwise it wouldn't be here.

TJ looked at her watch. My how time doesn't fly when you're not having fun. The tour felt like it was taking forever and she was long past paying attention to Dr. Noir. As if he was reading her mind, he stopped outside a large, heavy looking door with his name stenciled on it in clear lettering. He ushered her in and went to hang up his jacket before sitting down on a leather couch across the room from her.

Looking around the office, TJ saw a CCTV camera in one corner, its red light on indicating that it was recording. No doubt someone in the headmistress' office was watching them. Dropping her bag by the door, TJ looked up at the device a blew it, and whoever was watching, a kiss.

“So, Tamsin, why is it that you believe that this particular…educational institution is the one that is right for you? Or is this place just another whim, to be tossed away when you tire of it? You do strike me as the sort of young woman who has little patience for most things, particularly those things for which you do not see an immediate benefit to yourself.”

To begin with she ignored him, instead choosing to have a wander around his office and take a closer look at the maps and diplomas that were hanging on the opposite wall. Hey everyone, look how clever I am. I have all these certificates. Walking slowly along the wall, taking every item in, she finally answered his question.

"I got expelled from my last school and this place was local." She failed to mention that while others get expelled for smoking behind the bike sheds, she had been expelled for blowing her English teacher there instead. Turning towards him and walking towards one of the large, leather chairs, she sat down in it, wriggling around a little to make herself comfortable. She didn't ask to sit or wait to be offered the chair; she just did it.

"And from what I've seen on the tour, the rules about having sex with teachers are more relaxed here than at my previous schools"

 

[LeChatNoir]

The teacher sighed as the young woman walked around his office, clearly not answering his question. He gave her time to look around, to get some level of familiarity with her surrounds. It would make what came next easier.


"I got expelled from my last school and this place was local."


A wry nod from the man on the couch and a small wave of the printout in his hand accompanied his response.

“Yes, Tamsin, your previous school forwarded on to us that you’d been expelled, but they neglected to include a reason. Why, exactly, did they see the need to expel you? I’m vaguely familiar with your previous school, and they don’t seem like the sort of place to just toss a young woman out on her ear without some good reason.”

Dr. N watched the young woman seat herself without invitation in one of his chairs, lowering her long and graceful frame into to the welcoming leather, and proceed to make herself comfortable. There was no denying that she was attractive, but her attitude obviously needed a serious adjustment, and quickly. This was, after all, a school for Difficult Girls, and difficult girls required…corrective measures.

"And from what I've seen on the tour, the rules about having sex with teachers is more relaxed here than at my previous schools"

A slow shake of the head, coupled with a raised eyebrow, was all the outward reaction that comment elicited. Meanwhile, wheels were turning. The reason for her expulsion from her previous school was becoming clearer, and fortunately it didn’t sound like it was towards the “axe-murder” end of the spectrum.

“Oh, dear.” His voice was soft and warm, conveying more than a hint of sympathy, but with something else clearly underneath – steel. ”I begin to suspect why your previous school decided that perhaps they’d be better off without you. But I’m afraid that you have one or two things backwards regarding how this place operates.”

 

[MTPersson]

TJ had to hand it to him, when she hinted towards her past indiscretions, he barely battered an eyelid. Just shook his head slowly from side to side and raised one eyebrow, almost imperceptibly. The chair beneath her was becoming more and more uncomfortable with each passing moment. The sound of leather squeaked under her bum as she swiveled around so her legs were dangled over one of the arms and she lay her back against the other. Much more like it. If he was annoyed at her for sitting down without asking, he showed no sign of it.

He showed no sign of any emotion. The muted response her last utterance had elicited from Dr. Noir annoyed her a little. She was used to people stuttering and not knowing what to say all of a sudden. He had just digested it and moved on.

"Well, I tried to act all innocent. Oh no. It wasn't me, Mr Martin forced himself on me. Told me that he would fail me if I didn't do it." TJ put on a mock, high-pitched voice and went all doe eyed whilst reenacting the memory before snapping back out of it and reverting to her normal, rebellious tone.

"It didn't work, some bitch told them I was bragging about it. Of course, I was but she was still a bitch."

"But I’m afraid that you have one or two things backwards regarding how this place operates.”

It had all seemed pretty clear to TJ as they were walking around the school earlier. The endless tour of classroom and faculty wings. In a science lab, there was a girl writing lines with her skirt pulled pulled up over her naked ass, her teacher looking on with a cane in his hands; they had passed a young lady by the dance studio who had disheveled hair and appeared to be wearing only a jacket. The studio was a wreck as they quickly moved past it, the good doctor strangely quiet. It was clear to her exactly what kind of school this was. But we'll play his little game, though only for a while.

"Backwards, forwards. It's all a matter of where you're standing," she said, waving a hand around absent-mindedly drawing invisible doodles in the air in front of her face. "Tell me then, how does this place work?"

 

[LeChatNoir]

"Well, I tried to act all innocent. Oh no. It wasn't me, Mr Martin forced himself on me. Told me that he would fail me if I didn't do it."

"It didn't work, some bitch told them I was bragging about it. Of course, I was but she was still a bitch."

Another shake of the head, a wry smile on the teacher’s bearded face.

“And you’d worked on him for weeks to set him up, I imagine. A skirt just a little too short, a subtle shift of leg to show him just what style of underwear you’d decided to wear that morning, if any at all. A dip of the shoulders to emphasize your breasts beneath your deep-cut sweater when he walked by your desk, a flip of the hair, all of the tricks and techniques of the eighteen year-old girl who thinks that she runs the world, and that people are just her playthings.”

The smile disappeared completely.

“I hope that he at least got a good fuck out of you before he was fired and you expelled.”

“You see, Tamsin, this is where you have things backward.”

His voice dropped, to the point where she almost had to strain to hear him, even in the silence of the office.

“This is not a school where rules are more relaxed about students having sex with teachers, as you so eloquently put it. This is, rather, a school where teachers do what they have to do in order to get through to students that discipline will be obeyed. Sometimes the methods may seem,” he paused, “unorthodox, but our results are what they are.”

Dr. N slowly got to his feet, walking towards the chair where TJ sprawled unceremoniously, one leg hooked over the arm. As he reached the side of the chair nearest her head, he stopped, reached out, and took a solid hold of her long, chestnut tresses. His voice, previously long-suffering or filled with enthusiasm as he described parts of the school, now cracked sharply in the air.

“You will get up out of that chair and stand when I address you. Now.”

 

[MTPersson]

She sat there, sprawled across his chair, and listened to Dr. Noir run through a list of techniques he wouldn't have put past her to use in her seduction of her teacher.

"It was a lot easier than that, he liked my legs," she said, extending them into the air and qriggling them about a little before returnng them to their prone position. "A good wax, short skirt and a reason to sit on his desk was all I needed."

A look crossed her face as if she was trying to say 'Oh well, you gotta do what ya gotta do' and her shrugged of her shoulders emphasised the sentiment. He stopped smiling, a quick and sudden change in his demeanor as if someone had flipped a switch inside of him.

“I hope that he at least got a good fuck out of you before he was fired and you expelled.”

"Just a blowjob behind the bikesheds. We got caught, remember? Anyway, he knew what he was doing. He knew the risks."

What he said next washed over TJ as she tilted her head back and started looking at the ceiling in more detail. The inticate swirling patterns around the lighting fixtures and dark coloured oak panelling contrasted starkly; a lot more upmarket to the offices she had found herself in at her previous schools. How she wished she could have a cigarette, puff out a stream of smoke and try to waft it into a mirror of the patterns above her, the soothing nicotine filling her head. Alas, her stuff was all in her bag by the door.

Her long hair was draped over the arm behind her head and was almost brushing against the carpetted floor. Out of her peripheral vision, she saw Dr Noir stand and walk towards her until his face loomed upside down in her field of vision, obscuring her view of the patterned ceiling.

“You will get up out of that chair and stand when I address you. Now.”

His voice had changed. It had much more steel in it down and TJ found herself unable to resist his demand as he pulled her up into a standing position. It didn't hurt, his pulling roughly on her hair, but it exerted enough control over her that she couldn't remain in the position she was.

"Ah...alright, alright," was all she could manage to say, mostly out of shock at the sudden change in the atmosphere. Her long legs flapped about in empty air for a second until they found their footing and she was able to stand properly. "Fucking hell." He still held her hair and even though she stood tall in her heels, he still had a height advantage over her and TJ was forced to stand on her tippy toes.

"Do you have counsellors here, 'cause you might have some anger management issues?"

 

[LeChatNoir]

Now that’s a bit more like it, Dr. N thought, regarding the young woman on her tiptoes in front of him. She didn’t quite dangle from the hank of hair wrapped around his fist, but it was certainly keeping her uncomfortably off balance while she tried to get her feet under her and her wits about her. Some part of him wanted to laugh at her sudden predicament, but it wasn’t time for that yet. There were still lessons to be conveyed.

“Tamsin, you have had nothing but a piss-poor attitude since you walked through the front door today. You send in an application dripping with insincerity, you sneer your way through our interview, and you treat my office like it is your personal living room. I am not a child, nor am I Mr. Martin, to be so overcome by the sight of your lovely thighs that I can’t resist you.”

"Do you have counsellors here, 'cause you might have some anger management issues?"

That was the last straw. His free hand came up to capture her chin in his grip as he let go of her hair. He took a step back, his strong grip holding her in place by her chin as he regarded her up and down.

“You will go to my desk. In the third drawer from the top, on the left side, you will find a leather paddle. You will bring it to me, without saying a word.”

He released his grip on her face, folding both arms over his broad chest.

“You will then face my desk, lift your skirt, lower your tights, and bend over the desk.”

This slip of a girl thought she could come right in, show a little sex appeal, and run this place like she, no doubt, ran her previous school. If there was anything that Dr. N knew about Headmistress Vivi, he knew that she would never stand for the inmates running the asylum. He wouldn’t stand for it, either. This girl was going to learn something about discipline, if it killed her.

Watching her lithe form as she moved across the room, he rather hoped it wouldn’t kill her.

 

[MTPersson]

His large hand was around her chin, squeezing ever so slightly to let her know that as things stood he was very much in control. TJ’s mouth was clamped shut by his vice-like grip but her eyes were shooting daggers at him. She was sure that if she could have opened her mouth, she would have spat in his face. Twisting her body from side to side, she tried to squirm out of his hold but he wouldn't yield, not yet.

“You will go to my desk. In the third drawer from the top, on the left side, you will find a leather paddle. You will bring it to me, without saying a word.”

He let her go and and she dropped a few inches onto surer footing. Thick strands of chestnut hair fell over her eyes, tussled from where he had roughly pulled her up from her prone position on the chair. TJ didn’t bother pushing back off her face, instead leaving it as it was and continued to glare at him. At least she had some control back. Big mistake, gramps.

“You will then face my desk, lift your skirt, lower your tights, and bend over the desk.”

Dr. Noir crossed his arms across his chest. I bet he's practised that pose in his bathroom mirror. Look at me, the big tough teacher. She walked slowly across to his desk and stepped around it. There were four drawers on the left hand side and she reached for the top one first. If you want to know what's important to a person, always look at what they keep in their top drawer. She smirked at what she saw in there, something she could maybe use in the future, something to use against him.

She moved onto the third drawer down, the one he wanted her to open.

“Someone’s got some kinky fetishes,” she said with a cocked eyebrow before reaching into the depths of the drawer and pulling out the paddle from amongst the other paraphernalia that was in there. Stepping back around so she was on the same side of the desk as him, TJ paused and looked at him through her tangled hair. She tossed the paddle onto the chair next to him; the chair she had been sat in. Turning around, she put her hands on top of the desk, palms down, and spoke to the window.

“If you want my skirt around my hips and my tights around my ankles, you're going to have to do it yourself.”

 

[LeChatNoir]

Oh, this girl was a bit of a hellcat. He half-expected her to start hissing and scratching, but none of that was in evidence just yet, just the look of death that she shot him from under those chestnut tresses. If that passion could just be channeled, she would make an excellent student, and be a real credit to the school. Now, then, the real work would begin.

Sharp eyes watched the girl move to his desk, half appreciating the way that her body moved across his floor and half calculating angles and approaches and danger. Tamsin J. Walker looked as though she could pose a real problem, and therefore she bore proper watching. He observed open his top drawer, but merely watched and said nothing, not overly concerned about whatever she might find in it. To leave something truly dangerous around in this school required either a desire to be found out, or a complete and total fool. Dr. N was neither.

“If you want my skirt around my hips and my tights around my ankles, you're going to have to do it yourself.”

While Dr. N could think of any number of very pleasing reasons to have Tamsin bent over his desk with her skirt hiked up and her tights pulled down, he strongly suspected that she had failed to grasp the true reason he was ordering her to do that at this particular moment.

“My dear Tamsin, you do, indeed, have what looks to be a lovely rear. However, if you think that my motivation is just to see it, there are easier ways. You are wearing a pair of patterned tights, and who knows what all else underneath. If you would like to have that pattern semi-permanently imprinted into your ass after I’m through with you, then by all means, keep your tights exactly where they are. If you’d rather not go through the rest of your week looking like you sat on a waffle iron, you might do better to remove them.”

One hand closed over the handle of the paddle, and the silence was broken by a solid thwack as he slapped it against the palm of his other hand, testing the weight – a completely unnecessary test, since he’d had that paddle long enough that he could have told anyone who asked its weight fairly close to exactly. Despite its age, it had maintained a pleasing degree of stiffness, and delivered quite a smack when utilized with a full swing.

 

[MTPersson]

“My dear Tamsin, you do, indeed, have what looks to be a lovely rear. However, if you think that my motivation is just to see it, there are easier ways. You are wearing a pair of patterned tights, and who knows what all else underneath. If you would like to have that pattern semi-permanently imprinted into your ass after I’m through with you, then by all means, keep your tights exactly where they are. If you’d rather not go through the rest of your week looking like you sat on a waffle iron, you might do better to remove them.”

TJ thought about this for a moment. She had no doubt that Dr. Noir could wield the paddle with strength enough to leave marks that wouldn't fade for a week even without her patterned tights. As for her underwear leaving an imprint, well, that wasn't going to be an issue.

Giving into orders like this was how it started. She knew how the game worked. Start of with small, innocuous requests. Maybe make them seem like compliance is in their best interest before gradually ramping up the intensity of the demands until before they know it BANG and they'll do anything you say.

TJ was nobody's slave.

She heard a loud thwack from behind her. Probably trying to intimidate me. Staying standing as she was, casually leaning against his desk, she wriggled her hips a little causing her skirt to wavefront. Side to side. Not too much but enough to send a clear message; a teasing message.

“I think I'm fine as I am.”

 

[LeChatNoir]

“I think I'm fine as I am.”

Never let it be said that Dr. N did not appreciate a challenge. Nodding thoughtfully, he stepped within arm’s reach and raised the leather paddle, making sure that the young student bent over his desk caught an eyeful of it.

“Fair enough, Tamsin. I expect you to take this like an obedient student – you do understand the concept, I hope?”

To his mind, it made perfect sense. He was allowing Tamsin to keep her clothes where they were because she had actually thought about the response, rather than just making a sarcastic comment out of reflex. If she was thinking, then she could be worked with, even if she occasionally was going to make bad choices out of stubbornness. Every student made bad choices occasionally, but what was important was that there be immediate, predictable consequences for those bad choices. The severity of punishment was much less important than its predictability, or so study after study said. Dr. Noir read all the studies.

Now in position, the social studies chair looked over the young woman, taking a moment to appreciate the view. Seen from this angle, she really did present a very pleasing picture, and he began to feel a familiar tightness building in his groin. However, he reminded himself, no matter how pretty the picture, it doesn’t mean a damned thing until you hang it on the wall. This particular picture was not only not on the wall, it was still unframed, and he wasn’t even sure that it was all the way painted.

Time for a few additional strokes.

Dr. Noir had been, in his youth, a skilled racquetball player – a skill that he had been quite pleased to see translated well to the use of a paddle. Putting that skill to use, he beat Tamsin’s delightfully taut ass with firm, regular, rhythmic strokes of the leather paddle.

He didn’t beat her especially hard, certainly not as hard as he could have, but he kept up a steady rain of blows for what was very likely longer than she thought possible. All the while, his hand and arm on autopilot, he watched her face.

 

[MTPersson]

He was still hitting the paddle into the soft, fleshy tissue of his palm. Gesturing like a peacock displaying its tail. Look at me, look at my big, shiny paddle. Look at how much I polish the leather. Anyone would think he's compensating for something...or a lack of something. Dr. Noir moved slightly to one side of her waving the implement in question through her inverted line of vision.

Gesturing.

“Fair enough, Tamsin. I expect you to take this like an obedient student – you do understand the concept, I hope?”

TJ watched a cyclist through the window in front of her. They seemed to glide serenely across the grey asphalt. She had all of a sudden lost interest in the situation occurring around her in the office. Blinking, she snapped back to the room.

"You do know how to use that, don't you? I can show you if you like," she said casually as if she was offering advice on what shoes to buy or which band was the best to see live.

"It would be a disappoint if your talking-"

The first swing caught her by surprise. A strong, tingling sensation spreading quickly through her ass.

The seconds passed...

Tick, tock.

..and then came the burning white pain.

She had barely enough time to process the first spank before the second one hit. And the third then the forth. His rhythm was relentless and with every strike, TJ's body was thrust forward against the hard surface of the desk; with every strike a small yelp of pain. No, not pain. Pleasure.

She looked backed over her shoulder at him, a slight smearing of wetness around the corners of her eyes, a wicked grin on her face.

"Is that the best you got, you grey bastard?"

 

[LeChatNoir]

Dr. Noir chuckled, low and deep in his throat, as the first smack of the paddle cut off TJ’s smart-ass comment in mid-snark. Other that, he made no sound as he cracked the leather down against her rear again and again and again.

Eventually he paused for a moment to assess her situation, and decide whether to continue or not. He could see that little pricks of moisture had started in the corners of her eyes, though no tears stained her cheeks, and she certainly seemed to have lost none of her spunk. He idly wondered if other areas were becoming moist, as well.

She looked backed over her shoulder at him, a slight smearing of wetness around the corners of her eyes, a wicked grin on her face.

"Is that the best you got, you grey bastard?"

Well, then, the girl was a masochist, or at least seemed to enjoy a good, vigorous spanking. Masochists did always present an interesting challenge, but then, determining this sort of information was a valuable part of the intake interview process. Imagine if she got into the regular classes without someone knowing this vital information. Time to see what she was really made of, though.

“Why, no, Tamsin, that isn’t the best that I’ve got, and I’ll thank you not to call me a bastard. Grey I may be, or at least I may be going, but my parents were lawfully married.”

He walked over to where his jacket was hanging on the coat tree, reached inside it, and came out holding a metal ball-point pen. Returning to TJ’s side he reached out carefully and put the barrel of the pen lengthwise in her mouth, between her teeth. “Bite down, and hold that pen in your mouth. You will receive fifteen more strokes for calling me a bastard. You may whine and whimper all you like, or even laugh if you so desire, but if you open your mouth and drop that pen before I reach fifteen strokes, you’ll get another fifteen on top of that.”

She could certainly be cheeky, but what sort of self-control did she really have, or at least, what sort of self-control did she care to exercise?

 

[MTPersson]

“Why, no, Tamsin, that isn’t the best that I’ve got, and I’ll thank you not to call me a bastard. Grey I may be, or at least I may be going, but my parents were lawfully married.”

TJ bit back on a laugh that tried to escape her lips. Trust him to be a pedant on semantics. She felt him step away from her sore behind and heard him rummaging about. From the sounds of it he was on the far side of the room most likely going through his jacket pockets or her bag. God help him if he's going through my bag. I'll have to stop playing so nicely if he is.

Returning to her, Dr. Noir pushed something into her mouth. She was surprised and tried to figure out exactly what it was that he held there. It was a pen.

“Bite down, and hold that pen in your mouth. You will receive fifteen more strokes for calling me a bastard. You may whine and whimper all you like, or even laugh if you so desire, but if you open your mouth and drop that pen before I reach fifteen strokes, you’ll get another fifteen on top of that.”

TJ did as he asked. She was going to receive fifteen strokes as it was so there was no need to fight him at the moment. I'll play your game for now. Until stroke number fourteen anyway. Her teeth closed around the pen in her mouth and her eyes returned to the window in front of her as she braced herself for her fresh punishment.

No doubt it wouldn't be the last today.