School Discipline (FF/m)

[suedenym]

Alan sat on the cold, hard floor of the headmistress's office, his eyes scanning the room as if searching for a hidden escape route. His heart hammered in his chest, the only sound in the otherwise eerie silence that hung heavy in the air. The stiff white shirt he wore clung to his skin, damp with fear and sweat. His black shorts had been hastily rolled up to expose his bruised legs, a testament to the struggle he'd endured. The rope bit into his flesh, his skin already reddening from the tight restraints.

The door to the office creaked open, and a shadow fell across the floor. Mrs. Thornwood, the stern headmistress of St. Sebastian's School for Troubled Youngsters, strode in, her heels clicking against the tiles. She was tall and thin, her hair pulled back into a tight bun that emphasized her sharp features and piercing eyes. In her hands, she held a leather-bound book and a quill, which she placed on the desk with a thud that seemed to echo through the room. "Alan," she began, her voice cold and unforgiving. "What do you have to say for yourself?"


“Mmmppphhhhh.” It was a rhetorical question as his socks had been removed, one was pushed into his mouth as a gag,, the other tied between his teeth around his head to,hold,yhe first in place.

Mrs. Thornwood's eyebrows knitted together, her expression a blend of anger and disappointment. She strode over to him, her skirt brushing against the nylon of her tights and bent down to look into his eyes. “I didn’t quite catch that, Alan. Perhaps you’d care to explain why you felt the need to disobey the rules, disrespect your teachers, and disrupt the entire school assembly?” she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Ignoring his muffled protests, she bent down to tickle his feet with a sadistic smile, watching as he squirmed and writhed in his binds. The sensation was almost too much for him to handle, his body trying to respond to the unwelcome touch despite the pain. She knew this was a particularly sensitive spot, one that would elicit the desired reaction without leaving visible marks. "You know I don’t tolerate this kind of behavior," she whispered, her breath hot on his cheek. "But I'll give you a chance to redeem yourself. I'll be meeting with your form teacher at break. If she assures me that you've learned your lesson, perhaps we can come to an understanding."

With that, she stood and sailed back to her desk, her eyes never leaving him as she sat down. She picked up the leather-bound book and began to flip through the pages, her eyes scanning the lines of neat, handwritten text. Alan's eyes grew wide as he realized what it was: the punishment book, a chronicle of every misdeed and the subsequent penance meted out to each student. He knew his name would be added to the long list of those who had dared to cross Mrs. Thornwood.

Alan wriggled a little in his bonds then gave up, sitting and accepting his fate. The ropes held firm, a cruel reminder of his powerlessness. The smell of leather from the book and the faint scent of ink mixed with the overpowering odor of Mrs. Thornwood's nylon-covered feet as she kicked off her heels. Her feet, unnaturally smooth, the toes painted a stark crimson. He felt a wave of nausea wash over him, not only from the smell but from the realization that she was now so casually disregarding his distress.

Mrs. Thornwood leaned back in her chair, her black nylon-covered legs crossed at the ankles. She studied him, a flicker of amusement crossing her face. "Alan," she said, her tone almost conversational, "You know what happens next. Do you have anything to say before we proceed?"

Alan's eyes watered as he stared at the floor, willing himself not to gag on the sock. The room felt smaller, the air thicker with the pungent odor of her feet. He tried to swallow, but the sock was too big, blocking his throat. He managed a small shake of his head, his eyes pleading.

Mrs. Thornwood leaned forward, her foot hovering in the air before it descended onto his face with a soft thump. The cold, damp fabric of her stocking pressed against his nose, filling his nostrils with the scent of her sweat. She placed her other stocking-clad foot on the side of his face, pushing down gently but firmly, forcing his nose into the other foot. He could feel the grip of her toes on the side of his cheek, the pressure increasing as she leaned back in her chair. "Breathe," she ordered, a hint of amusement in her voice.

Alan's breathing grew shallower, his eyes bulging as he attempted to inhale through his mouth and nose. The fabric was suffocating, the odor unbearable. He felt the warmth of his own panic rising, his body desperately fighting against the restraints. Tears streamed down his cheeks, soaking the sock that was still lodged in his mouth. His eyes darted around the room in a silent plea for mercy, but Mrs. Thornwood remained unfazed.

After what felt like an eternity, the door opened once again. Miss Chester, his form teacher, walked in, her heels clicking a softer rhythm than Mrs. Thornwood's. She was a stark contrast, her youthfulness a stark contrast to the headmistress's stern demeanor. She looked surprised to see Alan in such a state, but quickly composed herself. "Ah, I see you've already started," she said with a forced smile, setting down her own pile of papers and a cup of tea.

Miss Chester was known for her kindness and patience, but today she was as unyielding as Mrs. Thornwood. She sat in the chair, her bare legs swinging over to rest on the desk. Alan felt a flicker of hope that maybe she would be the one to end this ordeal, but instead, she reached down and yanked the gag out of his mouth. "Now, let's hear what you have to say for yourself," she said, her voice firm but not unkind.

Alan took a deep, desperate breath, the taste of his own sweat and the cotton of the sock lingering on his tongue. He tried to speak, but his voice was a hoarse whisper. "I'm sorry, Miss Chester," he croaked, his eyes pleading. "I didn't mean to cause trouble."

Miss Chester leaned down, her bare legs dangling just out of his reach. "Sorry isn't good enough, Alan," she said, her tone firm but not unkind. "You know the rules. You've been a naughty boy." With that, she swung her legs off the desk and approached him, the muscles in her calves flexing as she walked. He watched in horror as she kicked off her heels, one landing just beside his head with a clack.

She pushed the gag back into his mouth with amazingly dexterous toes before pressing her soles onto his face. Miss Chester's bare feet were surprisingly cold as they settled on his face. Her toes curled, pressing into his cheeks and nose, and he felt the calloused pads of her soles on his forehead. The smell of her feet was faintly minty, a stark contrast to Mrs. Thornwood's cloying scent. She sat down on the chair behind the desk, crossing her ankles, resting one heel on his chest. "Now, let's see if you're truly sorry," she said, her voice carrying the same authority as the headmistress's had.

Alan's nostrils were blocked, his eyes watered and his breath came in panicked gasps through his mouth, which was forced open by the pressure of Miss Chester's arches. He could feel her toes wiggling against his skin, the smoothness of her soles sliding over his face. She leaned back in the chair, balancing on her feet, her weight on his face increasing. He desperately tried to mumble an apology, but the sound was lost against the flesh of her feet.

The two women sat talking for fifteen minutes, occasionally exchanging glances as they discussed his behavior. They spoke in hushed tones, their words unintelligible to him, but their expressions were clear: they were weighing his punishment, his future at the school. Alan could feel the seconds tick by, each one heavier than the last. His nose was blocked and he couldn’t breathe properly, his cheeks were squeezed by her toes, his eyes filled with tears.

Mrs. Thornwood's voice grew sterner with every tick of the clock. "This is the third offence in one week, Miss Chester. We must be consistent."

Miss Chester nodded solemnly, her feet still resting on Alan's face. She leaned forward, her toes releasing their grip momentarily to let him breathe before pressing down again. "Indeed, Mrs. Thornwood. His behavior has been escalating. We should involve his mother."

The headmistress picked up the phone on her desk, the receiver to her ear. "Mrs. Jenkins, it's Mrs. Thornwood from St. Sebastian's. I'm afraid we have a serious situation regarding Alan. Could you come in at your earliest convenience?" The room was silent save for the distant ringing of the phone. Alan felt his heart sink, knowing that his mother's arrival would bring a whole new level of trouble.

Mrs. Jenkins arrived promptly, her eyes wide with concern as she took in the sight of her son bound and gagged on the floor, the headmistress's and his form teacher's feet on his face. "We have reached that stage then. She said, a grin forming in her face as she recalled that day almost thirty years ago when she had sat on the floor of this very office, tied up, barefoot gagged with her own socks and looked over to the now headmistress, then known as Amanda Crossley, tied up and gagged as she was, as the then headmistress called both their mothers to come in for an urgent meeting.

[Redman]

Sounds like poor Alan needs to straighten his act up.

[WhereAmI]

Great little story on how schools should be run.

Volunteers to be the next HeadMaster at the St. Sebastian's School for Troubled Youngsters and teach these young scalawags and hoodlums how to act in class and be a contributing member of Society when, and if, they ever graduate. Being his third time Alan particularly needs the attention of my feet, socks and other special methods of discipline.

[Gluba]

Please more!, he needs to be gagged with their dirty panties!

[Bondageboi]

Love the idea of being tied ip as school discipline (by older female teachers). But I think some of the comments on dirty panties have gone a little off topic!

[MommysNB]

I thoroughly enjoyed this story so far! I can't wait to read about how these ladies deal with their young charge.
Thank you for sharing.

[Boundgirl09]

I like the idea of being tied up for discipline but the attention to feet would definitely keep me well behaved.

@suedenyn

I really like the plot twist of the headteacher and Alan’s mother having been naughty schoolgirls there 30 years earlier.

[lilshinefan]

great stuff i hope there's more to come!

[suedenym]

There might be more, but remember, he is a child, there will be no pantie gags or sex in this story.

[MommysNB]

As long as he learns his lesson!