The Prom

The last thing I wanted was to look drenched and scraggly for Miss Treadway, especially since I would have no way to dry my hair. Miss Treadway and Miss Larsson are very much alike. They both always look very put together; still very much athletic and intimidating for their age, much more than the other two female PE teachers, Miss Court and Mrs. McBride. As soon as I thought about Miss Treadway, I instantly felt my nipples getting hard, and I realized my hand had drifted down between my thighs, but then I remembered that I needed to stay on task.

I turned off the shower and grabbed the towel Miss Treadway left for me before heading back into the locker room. She instructed me to put on the clothes she'd left for me on the bench. As I dried myself off and took my hair down, I got a look at the solitary folded item of clothing and gasped. Jesus, did Miss Treadway really expect me to put this on? Wasn't there anything else to wear besides this?

I held in my hands that reviled familiar article of clothing worn during class: A dingy dark blue gym suit and white ankle socks. I searched around the bench, but I could only see the sneakers Miss Treadway left. There was no underwear in sight; no panties and no bra. I figured that this had to be a joke, but Miss Treadway specifically ordered me to put on only the clothes she provided from the bag. I was thinking about asking my teacher if it was okay to put on the panties I'd worn with my prom gown, but suddenly I heard that deep brusque voice followed by an ear-splitting thweeeet! From a gym whistle.

"You have about two minutes left, Ciara! Let's hustle!"

I quickly put on the gym suit along with the socks and shoes, and instantly I bristled. Without any panties on, I could feel the material from the jumper cutting hard into my crotch, reminding me how naked and vulnerable I felt. I caught sight of myself in a mirror as I made my way to the exit. Suddenly I wasn't 18 anymore. I look just like a fucking little 9th grader, I thought. But maybe that was exactly what Miss Treadway wanted tonight.

I got so nervous looking for the auxiliary gym, I ended up making a wrong turn out the door. I forgot it was one door over to my right as I exited the locker room. I tentatively opened the double doors and stepped into the brightly lit space. The recently polished wood floor shined like a lake. I was disoriented for a second or two as I squinted my eyes in an effort to become accustomed to the brightness.

In one far corner, there were a couple of stray tumbling mats unfolded next to an old wood podium which looked like it came from one of the multipurpose rooms. I wondered if the podium was left here by someone previously, or if Miss Treadway dragged it in here herself. This was all just too strange! That's when I noticed my teacher standing nearby, waiting for me. I was beginning to feel very anxious and self-conscious.

"Am I in some kind of trouble?" I asked in a shaking voice.

She pointed to a spot against the wall, coldly directing me to stand there and say nothing while she stood there, leering at me. Damn! I've never felt so uncomfortable in my life except for the hour or so I was in that church basement. It felt like I was intruding on Miss Treadway; like I was an imposition she wanted to dispatch immediately. It was so weird! She was the one who brought me here, not the other way around! What the hell was going on?

"Did I do something wrong, Carol Jean?" I asked. "Why did you bring me here?"

"You would do well to remember that right now we are in school, and at school you will call me Miss Treadway."

Miss Treadway fixed me with her steely gaze. I was cowed by her expression, made all the more severe by the heavy dark frames of her glasses.

"I'm sorry...Miss Treadway." I said softly.

"Miss Larsson informed me that you went to the prom tonight with that boy...Jason Pope. Is that right?"

"...yes."

"What happened?"

"Nothing—nothing happened!" I stammered. "Bobbie must have told him that I was wearing your necklace because he got mad and dumped me before we got to the dance!"

"And he wanted nothing else?" Miss Treadway demanded. "You just attended the dance—nothing more?"

Miss Treadway was standing very close to me now. I couldn't shake the onset of this sudden twinge of fright I was feeling. I think she knew that I was holding something back from her. She knew that I wasn't being totally truthful about what happened between me and Jason. What was she going to do?

"He...wanted me to have sex, but I told him no way! He-he called me a...Jesus freak. That's why he dumped me!"

"Do you still like boys, Ciara?" Miss Treadway asked softly. "Do you still think about them?"

"No!" I protested. "I want you!"

"But you seem to be struggling with worrying about what your friends think." She said. "God has a plan for you, but you have no faith or patience to see it through."

"It was only one date—to the prom!" I nearly shouted. "What's the big deal anyway?"

"You know...I'm not angry at all...and I'm not surprised either." Miss Treadway said. "I've known for a very long time that you are a little confused. You are such a beautiful young lady, about to go to college and become a teacher. It reminds me of when I was your age. I had some of the same doubts and desires welling up inside me. I had feelings that I didn't know quite what to do with. But God has brought us together so I can help you understand those feelings."

Oh God! I could feel Miss Treadway's strong hands caressing me, and I tried to push her away. A part of me just wanted to run away and hide, but the larger part of me knew I needed this humbling experience. I want this, I thought to myself. I deserve this!

"It was just the prom." I stammered. "I never want to see him again!"

"Just to be sure, I think that a little punishment is necessary." She said.

"Please don't punish me, Miss Treadway!" I whined.

My voice came out in a squeak, small and defeated. I felt a sudden burst of butterflies invading the pit of my stomach. Miss Treadway glared at me.

"But I must punish you, Ciara Ackerman, and I will—severely. It is God's will that I should do this."

Miss Treadway retrieved the bag she'd brought with her. She reached inside and pulled out a book which she held out to me.

"Here, young lady. Take this and bring it over to the podium near the mats."

"Yes, Miss Treadway." I said in a low, dead tone.

I felt totally dazed and defeated, like I was in a trance as I took the book from Miss Treadway and brought it over to the podium. I looked down at the book. It was a soft black leather bound bible. The pages were slightly discolored and dog-eared from so many years of constant use. Was she going to make me recite a passage from it? Was she going to force me to copy some pages? Maybe she would make me take it home and write a report for future leaders' class!

Suddenly, something sort of occurred to me: Besides the one time when I swore in her class, Miss Treadway has never really punished me before. Sure, I've been witness to dozens of punishments she's dealt to my classmates, but she has never once made me the target of her wrath. I had no idea what to expect. My mind was swimming, and I couldn't get a hold of myself.

I glanced over at Miss Treadway standing there, scowling at me. My eyes couldn't help but follow the lean, toned lines of her athletic body. I caught a glimpse of her breasts, the two very small mounds underneath her light colored golf shirt. They were maybe the size of mosquito bites, but they were plainly there. Were they both as hard as mine? I wondered.

"Now, I want you to take that bible and open it to First Corinthians, chapter 9." Miss Treadway ordered.

Her voice was a bit calmer, but still curt. I was standing there facing the podium and holding the bible in my shaking hands, trying to avert my gaze from her middle-aged, yet somewhat still boyish looking body. I flipped desperately through the pages towards the end until I found First Corinthians.

"Now, listen to me very closely, Ciara because I am only going to say this once. Are you listening, young lady?"

"Yes, Miss Treadway." I replied in a shaking voice.

I didn't even want to turn around to look at my gym teacher. My mind was ringing with fear, but not a fear of being hurt by my teacher. I just didn't know what she wanted me to do! I've never seen anything like this happen before (either during or after) gym or future leaders' class at North Haskell. But perhaps that was the point of all this. To get me out of the familiar element of gym class, of future leaders' class, of school itself where normal rules and social codes applied. Jesus, I was so lost!

"Place the bible open on the podium. I want you to place your hands flat on either side of the bible so that you are standing still with your arms stiff and straight out. Then you will read from chapter 9 verses 24 through 27. You will read only these verses, out loud, clearly so that I can plainly hear you. Do you understand?"

The sharpness of Miss Treadway's voice alerted me to the gravity of the situation I was in. I made sure that I caught every word. It wouldn't do to ask her to repeat any of it.

"Yes, Miss Treadway. I understand."

I did just as I was told. I put my hands as flat as I could on the flat part of the podium, careful to keep the bible open and level so the pages wouldn't turn by accident.

"Straighten those arms out, Miss Ackerman!"

Miss Treadway's booming voice came as a shock and I was caught off guard again.

"Gracious, your posture is shameful! Stand up straight, young lady!"

Damn! I thought I was standing straight! My back was sort of arched, and my ass was sticking kind of up and out. I felt a sudden cool breeze going up the short open legs of my jumper, reminding me that I didn't have panties on under the gym suit. I felt so exposed and naked, especially since the uniform Miss Treadway gave me felt like it was a size too large. But in spite of all of this, or maybe because of it, my body was beginning to get excited and my pussy began to feel a little squirmy. I wondered if she could tell that I was starting to get wet down there.

"Start reading, young lady." I heard Miss Treadway's terse command from behind.

"You know that while all the runners in the stadium take part in the race, the award goes to one man. In that case, run so as to win! Athletes deny themselves all sorts of things..."

"Come on, louder! Clearer!" My gym teacher demanded.

I did the best I could as I pressed on. I tried to control my breathing, but my heart was beating in my ear like it was going to explode from my chest. My nipples were so hard, I could feel them brush occasionally against the dark blue material of the gym suit.

"What I do is discipline my own body and master it, for fear that after having preached to others I myself should be rejected."

As soon as I finished reading the verses, I heard Miss Treadway's voice cut the eerie silence.

"Read it again, Ciara."

This time, my teacher's voice was a little calmer, but still deep, abrasive and curt. I read the verses again. My entire body trembled, and I felt myself sobering up very quickly at the thought of Miss Treadway's possible harsh rebuke should I refuse. Each demand, each order to repeat the verses made my pussy tingle, sending electricity up my spine. I read those verses from First Corinthians again, and again, and again. Each time I read aloud, the message became clearer to me. After the sixth time, I heard Miss Treadway's voice prickling my ear:

"Keep reading, Miss Ackerman. Memorize and regurgitate the Lord's word so that you can say just what you think others want to hear from a lazy, spoiled, sinful little brat who thinks that she is a good God-fearing girl!"

Miss Treadway's voice was much closer now, sarcastic and grim. She was standing so close to me. Her presence scared and excited me in the most exquisite way. She was standing right beside the podium now as I tried my best to avoid looking up at her.

"Read it again." She said softly, her pelvis brushed against my hip. I thought I could feel the light cotton of her golf shirt. I could smell a light spicy floral aroma mixed with chalk. It was familiar and comforting and electrifying. She was leaning over me; her breath was hot on my hair and neck, and I could smell briefly the familiar odor of stale black coffee emanating from her mouth. Her voice was lower, heavier, huskier, and strangely more commanding now. I was so freaked out by what was happening. I just kept reading, trying to avoid Miss Treadway's leering gaze.

For a moment or two, I didn't realize that my gym teacher was feeling me up. Her strong hands grasped my shoulders at first; they slid down my arms and began aimlessly roving over my breasts and stomach. I felt so helpless, powerless, stupid, and afraid. I kept reading the bible verses even though my tongue became tied a couple of times and my voice faltered. I could feel her lithe body grinding against me once or twice. I thought I was going to lose my mind!

"For being so full of sin, you have earned yourself a spanking, young lady." Miss Treadway informed me brusquely from her place behind my ass. She was standing again, no longer touching me. "I suppose your foster parent has never punished you for that willful entitled attitude of yours. Well...I am going to do what she has neglected to do...I am going to beat the fire out of you!"

I heard her moving away, and there was a quiet rustling sound echoing through the nearly empty gym. I couldn't see anything, but I guessed that Miss Treadway was retrieving something else from her bag of mysteries.

She is going to spank me! I couldn't believe this! She can't spank me—she's my teacher! But then I felt a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, and I swallowed hard. Miss Treadway brought me here to the community center after hours on purpose. She must have asked a friend of hers for the keys to get into the building; someone who was high up, who was in charge and had unfettered access. Because Miss Treadway told me once how she wanted to keep me after class so she could make love to me right there at school. But she knew that she couldn't do that. Not without risking her job, secure as it was. This was second best. She was free to play gym class with me in private this way. Everything was starting to make sense!

"I am going to teach you what happens to the sinful little slut who refuses to listen to her teacher!"

I don't quite understand what happened next, but a sort of molten fire just washed over me. I felt this crazy jumble of emotions all at once. I was angry, excited, scared...all at the same time. Before I even quite realized it, a cool gust of air brushed against me before the first blow. SLAP! By then I knew that my pussy was drenched. My breath caught in my throat. SLAP! The second slap came down, this time on my right ass cheek, and my legs began to quake. She wasn't using her hand. No, the old dyke was using something else! It felt hard and straight and somewhat small. Each blow she rained left an intense stinging packet of painful sensation.

SLAP! I gasped and moaned as I finished reading verse 27. It hurt so damn bad, I stopped reading altogether. SLAP! With every blow Miss Treadway leveled across my ass, my heart raced faster and faster. Everything felt more real, more painful than it ever felt before. SLAP! Another cruel blow rained across both ass cheeks this time. My pussy was throbbing beyond belief!

I heard Miss Treadway's masculine voice, more breathless, but still with exquisite restraint and professionalism:

"You'd like to always get your way, Ciara. Act as if you are faithful to me, tell me that you love me...but then you just had to go out to the prom with that nasty boy because you thought your friends would approve! HE DOES NOT LOVE YOU, CIARA! God has NOT given you over to some filthy boy like Jason Pope! He has given you over to ME!"

SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! Four more sharp blows rained down against my ass in different spots. My brain was soupy, and the gym actually started spinning. My mouth moved a little, but no sound came out. My eyes were losing focus. Miss Treadway really has lost her fucking mind! What was I expecting though? The whole damn school already thinks she and Miss Larsson are both nutty! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! But what good were those revelations to me now? I'm stuck here in this gym with her alone. No one was coming to my rescue.

"Let not steadfast love and faithfulness forsake you; bind them around your neck; write them in the tablet of your heart...remember that, Ciara!"

SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! My mouth was hanging open, and my eyes were as wide as saucers. I must have looked pretty shocked as I clutched the sides of the podium. But I wasn't really feeling shock. Instead, fear and desire had me in its grip. Suddenly I felt a sort of bursting inside me like a heavy juice laden peach. I could feel it dripping on the crotch of my gym suit, and it threatened to run down the insides of my thighs.

I let go of the podium for a second to adjust the dingy blue jumper lest Miss Treadway should discover evidence of my uncontained arousal. SLAP! SLAP! Another couple of blows were aimed squarely at my hands this time. Out of sheer instinct, I tried to shield myself from the blows.

"Stop it, Ciara!" Miss Treadway hissed at me. "Stop that struggling, or you're only going to get it worse!"

A couple of ragged sobs erupted from my throat as my teacher swatted me again. This time the blow was lighter, but it still stung.

"Do you know why I asked you to read that passage?" Miss Treadway asked.

"Nnooo!" I sobbed. The word caught in my throat. I sounded like a total idiot. "Look—I don't care! Stop hurting me...please!"

"God never gives us more than we can handle, young lady!" Miss Treadway said curtly. "When we are faithful in little things, God will give us more. But if we turn away from God, we are in danger of losing what we already have!"

SLAP! Another blow rained down on my already battered ass. SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!

"Owww! Knock it off, you nutty bitch!" I screamed.

I tried to use the bible to shield my ass from the next blow, but Miss Treadway yanked the book from my hand and tossed it aside. My frightened stare met hers, and I knew I was in real trouble. With that, she rained down another half-dozen more harsh blows to my ass, alternating from one cheek to the other until I was sure the skin underneath was thoroughly red and bruised.

My breaths came in quick gulps, and I could feel tears threatening to spill down my cheeks. I could tell that Miss Treadway was enjoying this. Whenever she came into my line of sight, I noticed that her nipples were slightly visible under the fabric of her shirt. When she swatted me, I saw the patches of sweat spreading in her arm pits, and her fair skin had blotches of red. I wondered if she was aware of how she looked right now, or if she even cared.

But I couldn't spend too much time thinking about that. SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! The blows came one right after another. The hard ones made me cry out and beg for her to stop. By the time she administered the final four blows, I was sobbing loudly, doing my best not to resist. I didn't want any extra swats!

At last: "Okay, I think you've had enough of that, Ciara." Miss Treadway said soothingly. "Turn around and face me."

I tentatively stood up straight and turned to face my gym teacher. The first thing that leaped out at me were her dark eyes. They were blazing, focusing intently on me behind those glasses, steely, stern, and demanding. She was panting from exertion. Her nearly flat chest heaved up and down and I took a moment to focus on the gym whistle which was hanging there in the general area where her breasts are. Now I know I could detect the sharp impression of her nipples showing through the fabric of her shirt.