The Skybox (A DCS Story)
Disciplinary Charter
School (DCS) is a charter high school that uses a repurposed shopping mall as a
vast indoor campus and specializes in bright students with troubled backgrounds.
The school has both boarding and day students.
Because of its boarding facilities and exceptional security, the state
allows the school to accept students from reformatories. Despite the troublesome nature of its
students, the school produces excellent results through careful selection of
only the brightest and most motivated students, excellent facilities, and the
provision of the structure and discipline that these difficult students
require.
Although DCS gets excellent governmental funding, it isn’t
actually enough to meet all of the expenses of the school. It helps that some extra funding comes from
the inmate students. The state actually
pays a much higher per-diem for those
students because of their security requirements. But DCS is an expensive school to run. The mall was purchased cheaply and actually
needed little remodeling, but salaries are high, the student/staff ratio is low,
and the electronic security/surveillance system is extensive, expensive, and
uses bleeding-edge technology. Just the
energy costs to heat and cool the entire mall are astronomical.
Like many charter schools, DCS has a non-governmental source
of funds. Fortunately for Principal Sandra
Evens, fund raising drives aren’t necessary.
The school’s founder, billionaire Donald Post, is the owner of the
campus and also the school’s biggest benefactor. Mr. Post serves as the
Chairman of DCS, and is therefore Sandra’s boss.
Even more so than normal schools, there are many spaces in
DCS that are not only strictly off limits to students, but hopefully are
totally unknown to them. Examples are
the computer rooms used for school records, and for the extensive security/surveillance
system. This system is so good, that
staff can use an ipad application to pinpoint the location of any student or
staff member on the campus!
However, there is one space that is off limits to everyone
except Mr. Post himself. This is Mr.
Post’s “Skybox”. The “Skybox” is built
into the space right next to the school’s auditorium. (Naturally, the auditorium is a former
theater.) Basically a plush
apartment/office for Mr.’ Post’s exclusive use, the “Skybox” name comes from
the very special entertainment available to Mr. Post. First, there is a large bay window into the
side of the auditorium stage fitted with one-way glass. This gives Mr. Post a ringside seat for the
occasional “screenings” (spankings) that are given before the entire student
body. Although a small translucent “modesty”
screen blocks the student body’s direct view of the proceedings, the viewing
angle provided for Mr. Post is much more advantageous! Of course, “screenings” only happen
occasionally, but the security division regularly supplies Mr. Post with explicit
high-definition videos of all the school’s latest corporal punishments for his
“official review”. These he regularly enjoys
on his wide-screen TV.
Mr. Post frankly, albeit privately, admits to his Principal
that he loves watching spankings. Since
DCS virtually belongs to him, he could easily put himself in charge of
discipline, but for ethical reasons he doesn’t participate in the punishment of
DCS students. That said, he sees no
problem with enjoying them when they happen.
Also, his “ethics” only apply to students. He will happily spank willing adults! Which brings us to the lady who is presently
in his Skybox…
---------------
When Sandra read the quarterly financial report from the
accountant, she knew she was in trouble.
Unfortunately, she also knew that Mr. Post was sure to read the report;
he always did. The problem was
simple. Sandra had fallen into the habit
of approving purchase requisitions without checking their associated
sub-accounts to ensure that funds were available. With 6 months to go in the fiscal year, she
was significantly over budget. A more
immediate problem was several sub-accounts that were in the red.
With a sigh, she picked up the phone to dial Mr. Post. It would go better for her if she
confessed. They agreed to meet after school
to go over the accounts and access the damage.
It went without saying that the meeting would be on Mr. Post’s turf, the
mysterious “Skybox”.
---------------
Normally when invited for an evening at the “Skybox”, Sandra
would dress in something more casual, usually just slacks and a blouse. Today, Sandra retained her business outfit, a
suit with a tight skirt. After all, this
would be a business meeting. She did
take the trouble of showering and donning fresh undies though. Fortunately she had a private bath in her
office, and kept a few clothes for similar emergencies. As she walked up the mall towards her
meeting, her purse felt unusually heavy, a constant reminder of its “special”
contents and her dismal expectations for the evening.
They met in the food court, and shared a light supper from
the “Subway” sandwich counter.
Naturally, there were many students there also enjoying the free
fare. Pretending all was normal, they
spoke to a few of them.
From inside the campus, the “Skybox” was only reachable by passing
through the security office. Concealed
there, was an entrance to a private hallway.
The Security division controlled the door at its end of the hall, but
only Mr. Post had the key for the door at the other end. There was a surveillance camera in that
hallway, but the surveillance system ended at Mr. Post’s private door. Administratively speaking the Skybox wasn’t
part of the campus. Mr. Post also had an
external access door that led to a private garage, so he could come and go as
he pleased.
Finally alone, she found Mr. Post in a businesslike
mood. On his computer they analyzed the
accounts to access the problem. As it
turned out, several sub-accounts were in the red a total of $30,000. She had nobody to blame but herself, and she
honestly told her boss so. Budgets had
been easier for her to manage in the military because that system simply would
not allow overdrawing accounts. However,
budgeting and accounting in the non-profit world ran by completely different
rules. There was no way that Sandra
could claim ignorance, she knew the rules.
She just needed to learn to assign a higher priority to managing the
school’s budget.
Working together, they found a few accounts with extra cash,
a few thousand here, a few hundred there.
They filled out all the forms to transfer the money along with the
proper justification language, and then Mr. Post approved them on the
spot. When they were done, they were
only $15,000 in arrears. Frankly, Sandra
made good money, so she could have written a check from her own account, but
she knew that Mr. Post would never allow her to mix school funds with her own. As she had expected, he concluded their
official business by pulling a large desk ledger checkbook from a drawer and writing
a check from one of his personal accounts.
“This will clear up the deficit,” he said, “Do we have any
other business tonight?”
Sandra wasn’t one to beat around the bush. “You know there is Mr. Post! Would you like my resignation?”
His reply was adamant, “When I hired you, a retired Army
officer, to run this school, I knew I was making a risky choice. I knew you would have much to learn. But I still think it was the right
choice. You have exactly the leadership
personality this school needs. The staff
and the students worship you! Also, your
background in security issues gave the state the confidence to allow us to
house inmates. So no, I don’t want your
resignation. That said, I want you to
learn from this incident.”
She opened her purse to tuck away the check, and extracted
the heavy little Lucite paddle that she had stuffed inside. “In that case, we both know that this is
warranted”.
Gravely, he accepted the paddle. Actually, there were several perfectly good
paddles in the Skybox, but bringing her own was the perfect sign of this strong
woman’s willingness to atone for her carelessness.
“Place the chair and prepare yourself then,” he ordered in a
mild voice.
In one corner of the room was a heavy armless chair. It was a twin to the one in her own
office. She moved it into the center of
the room so that it faced Mr. Post. Removing
her suit jacket, she neatly hung it on the back of the chair. Balancing on one foot at a time, she pulled
off her shoes, then, using the DCS procedure that she knew so well, stowed them
neatly under the chair. Next she removed
her pencil skirt. She carefully folded
it, bent over, and placed it over her shoes.
Since she had no desire to draw out the procedure, her panties and
pantyhose came off together. She pulled
them apart, folded as neatly as possible, and then daintily bent to place them under
the chair.
As she bent over, her back was towards Donald. The lump in his groin betrayed Donald’s
appreciation of this intimate view of her charms.
She was under no obligation to remove her top, but she
decided to save it from wrinkling.
Again, she folded it and bent over to place it on the pile. Wearing only her lace bra, she stood proudly
and looked Mr. Post in the eye. To her
consternation, one small rogue tear betrayed this strong lady’s inner turmoil.
---------------
Sandra Evens was no stranger to either the Skybox or its
spanking chair. After he had hired her
to become the Principal of DCS, it had taken a year for her and Mr. Post to
gradually establish a spanking relationship.
Strange as it may seem, Sandra Evens and Donald Post were intimate, but
they weren’t lovers. They both knew that
their professional relationship couldn’t survive if they allowed themselves that
luxury. Further, they both greatly
believed in DCS and knew that their professional relationship was vital to its operation,
so neither made any sexual or emotional demands on the other.
Still, Donald was a man who enjoyed viewing and giving
spankings, and Sandra had learned that she needed the occasional spanking; so
the two gradually worked out a mutual accommodation that met both of their
needs. It was a classic win-win
situation.
By far, their most common spanking session was a
“stress-relief” evening for Sandra.
Sometimes Sandra would ask, but often Mr. Post would see her need and
“prescribe” a session. “Stress relief”
spankings started out with the same chair and the same undressing ritual as
tonight’s spanking, but he spanked with just his hand. He would start with spanks that were almost gentle,
but then gradually dial up the heat until she finally cried real tears. Shortly later, the spanking would end. Next, Donald would remove any of Sandra’s
remaining clothing, lay a sheet over the couch and invite her to lay face-down
for a long stress-relieving massage.
The third part of the “stress relief” routine is so intimate
that it took them a while to get sufficiently comfortable together to let it
happen. When Donald had finally finished
with her upper body muscles, he would work his way down. He would do her back, and then give her
tender bottom only a gentle massage, but then he would let his lubricated fingers
slip down between her legs. At first,
little would seem to happen, but then Sandra would gradually start to respond,
until finally her bottom was working faster than it had during the
spanking. Finally, she would pull her
knees up under her and thrust up to allow him full access. Although the bulge in his pants clearly
showed that his penis wanted the job, Donald would use only his talented
fingers to expertly bring her to a loud orgasm. Finally Sandra would collapse
down on the sheet, totally spent.
Although Sandra offered Donald similar release, he always
demurred. They might share a bottle of
wine before she left, but then they always parted without so much as a
kiss. After one of those “stress-relief”
sessions, Sandra would feel relaxed for up to three weeks. They were both convinced that the unwinding
process improved her decision-making skills.
Since her job required countless daily decisions, that was very useful.
But tonight, Sandra’s spanking would have nothing to do with
stress relief. Instead it would be
strictly for punishment. It would be a
short but vigorous session with the paddle that would leave her sore for days
to come. There would be no warm-up
spanks, no massage, and no post-spanking “fun and games.” She knew what to expect because it had
happened twice before.
---------------
Slowly, perhaps reluctantly, Donald strode to the chair and
sat. He brandished the paddle. Automatically, Sandra moved to his right
thigh. When he saw her eyes shining with
tears, he almost weakened.
“I’m sorry Donald, so sorry”
His voice was husky with emotion, “Sorry is good, but what’s
really important is that you learn your lesson.”
“From previous experience, I’m sure I’m about to receive
something very memorable,” she said with irony in her voice, “and I think
that’s entirely appropriate. Do your
worst sir.”
Without waiting to be told, she put herself across his lap,
placing her bottom in the perfect place for correction.
As always, he marveled at her bottom. It had barely enough padding to give it the
luscious shape that filled out her tight skirts so well, but that padding
concealed an athletic muscle structure developed during her military years and
honed by daily exercise. He always
wondered if that hard muscle protected her bottom, or if her lack of padding
made her bottom more vulnerable. He had
even asked her about that, but received no useful answer, since she had no
basis of comparison.
However, wonderful as it was, this was no time to ogle his
employee’s bottom. Without warning, he
raised the paddle high and started her punishment. This was to be a true punishment spanking, so
he spanked hard from the very first swat.
That first nasty swat caught her by surprise, so she let out
a tiny squeal, but then her iron will kicked in. Sandra wanted a punishment sufficient to
truly clear the air between them. She
had heard the emotion in Donald’s voice and feared weakness, so she instantly
formed a plan to bolster him.
Sandra gathered all of her mental toughness. This is the same toughness she had mustered
when she had outdid many men on the 5-mile full-pack run, the same iron will
that kept her awake and kept her entire squad safe as they tore through the
enemy over a 2-day battle. As Donald
Post punished her buttocks with that heavy little paddle Sandra did…nothing. Nothing that is, except lay there and take
her punishment quietly.
She knew that he would rise to the challenge, and that she
would eventually be forced to yield, but that was the whole point. She gritted her teeth, concentrated on
staying silent and still, and simply absorbed the punishment.
Naturally, Donald soon noticed that he wasn’t “getting
through to her” and took it as a challenge.
Grimly, he started spanking harder and faster. Still, Sandra hung on
with all of her will. By now her bottom
was bright red, her firm cheeks flattening with each spank, but then instantly
bouncing back to invite yet another blow.
Finally, in spite of herself, her lower body started to writhe. Donald immediately noticed, and knew that he
was finally having an effect. Again he
increased his efforts.
The game-winning gambit was when he shifted target to her
formerly untouched thighs and sit spots.
When the brush started tormenting tender, virgin flesh, the painful
surprise finally pushed her towards the edge.
“Oh shit!” she suddenly shrieked, “nooooo!”
From there, Sandra rapidly lost control, and Donald suddenly
became the clear winner of the challenge.
Her sobs turned to open crying, which degenerated into shrieks as
Donald’s brush continued its work. Suddenly
her legs mutinied, and started kicking and splaying as if they had a mind of
their own. This not only offered Donald
unique, kinetic glimpses of her nether female architecture, it opened up new
virgin vistas of tender flesh to spank.
Donald probably outweighed Sandra, but Sandra was definitely
the stronger of the two. That’s why her
struggles were starting to become a problem for Donald as the spanking
progressed towards its conclusion.
When she nearly fell off his lap, he stopped
momentarily. He spoke in a voice that
was firm, but not unkind, “I’ll need a bit more cooperation if we’re ever going
to get done here.”
She blubbered something contrite and apologetic. In response, he repositioned her. He bent her over his left knee, and then trapped
her two legs with his right leg. Then he
secured her right hand in the small of her back, and instructed her to grip the
chair leg with her remaining hand.
And then he lifted the paddle and started anew, only faster
and harder than before. She shrieked and
bucked. This last part of the spanking
took less than a minute. Donald wielded
the brush with a vengeance. His
intention was to mark the lady’s bottom.
Sitting would be painful for a few days.
Finally it was over. He
kept Sandra over his lap for a couple minutes to give her time to return to
sanity. As she sobbed, her shoulders
shook, but that also imparted a fetching motion to her livid bottom. Donald patted her back and spoke gently to
help her calm down, but he also snapped a few mental pictures of the scene for
later use in his personal fantasy life.
Finally, Sandra was on her feet, shedding her last few tears
and ruefully rubbing her bottom and thighs.
Donald returned to the couch so he could properly appreciate the sight of
Sandra’s reverse strip-tease. Given her
tender bottom, he wasn’t surprised to see her stuff her panties and panty-hose
into her purse along with the hated paddle.
She donned her skirt directly over her delectable female flesh. Even so, she winced as she pulled up the
tight skirt. He grinned at the irony of this military hero “going
commando”.
As usual, she disappeared into his bathroom to fix her
face. While he was waiting, Donald
picked up the phone to order a limousine to his private entrance.
Finally, Sandra emerged.
Except for her mincing walk and a bit of residual puffiness around her
eyes, she looked poised and ready for another day’s work.
She spoke first, “It hurt Donald, hurt like hell. But I deserved every spank and I thank you
for doing it. I promise you, I learned
my lesson and I’ll do a better job for you.”
It was a dangerous moment.
Had either of them made a false move, they could have ended up naked on
the carpet fucking like animals. As it
was, adult common sense prevailed, so they parted with a mere sweaty handshake.
He escorted her out his private entrance and into the
waiting limo for her solitary ride home to her apartment.
As she rode, she wondered about Donald. In many ways, his life was a cipher to
her. His arousal had been obvious. What would he do about it? Would he “take care of the problem
manually”? …Or could he pick up his
phone to summon a woman with the same ease that he had summoned her limo? She didn’t know whether to feel sorry for
Donald, or feel jealous of the lady who might reap the benefits of his
arousal.
Her car was still parked back at the school, but Donald had
thought of that. The next morning, the
limo would be waiting to bring Sandra back to her world, the school that both she
and Donald Post loved so much.
© Guyspencer 2012
posted by guy at 8:43 PM
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