From the Top Shelf -The Tutor, Finale

Last week, Mr. W began Eileen's third and most severe spanking. He now continues:

Her bottom was by now extremely well-marked, with hardly an inch of untouched space on that satiny skin. I am sure she must have been suffering a good deal, judging by the way her buttocks continued to contract and relax and squirm about. I wanted, however, a final time to guarantee her good will during the rest of our association together. And so I made the error of granting her this comparative reprieve.

I seated myself at one end of the chesterfield and told her that she might lay herself across my lap, retaining hold of her upturned skirt and slip. She crawled towards me with alacrity, sniffling but with a tremulous little smile on her lips, and dropped immediately into position. But she did not do this without pressing and shifting herself about as close to me as she could, and then she finally murmured, in a voice made husky by stifled sobs and tears, "That--that is ever so much better, sir. I think I can take the rest now. But please, sir, won't you tell me how many more I am to get, so I can be ready for them?"

Once again, her fortitude took me back, but I was to find that this was all part of her ingenious little game. It had the effect, naturally, of moving me to some compassion for her, as her bottom looked quite angrily hot by now and the flesh continued to tremor a good deal. So I said rather brusquely, "I shall finish in good time when I'm certain that you've had your full count, my girl. Now get yourself ready again for the rest of it."

This time, I applied the resuming spanks in diagonal fashion over the inner curves of both upreared, flaming globes, and she kicked her feet and squealed. I saw her slim little fingers twist and knot her rumpled skirt and slip, and she had pressed her face into the pillow. I applied four or five more such diagonally administered spanks, and at each her bottom jumped and twisted and she uttered sobbing cries of real pain. I concluded with a sound whack across the fullest curves of both buttocks, admonishing her that if she tried my patience any more, I should have to procure a good birch for her naughty bottom. Then I told her she might get up, but this time to pull up her panties.

Once again I helped her to rise to her feet. When her clothes were in place, she was seized by a fit of convulsive trembling, and leaned her head against my shoulder, with her hand against my chest. Then, looking up into my face, while tears ran down her flushed cheeks, she whispered huskily, "Oh, Mr. W, I'm ever so glad you punished me. I know that means you must care for me a good deal, and I've been so awfully lonesome, sir!"

I was thunderstruck at this, and made some non-committal remark or another. I decided to excuse her from the rest of the afternoon lessons, because I had some thinking to do. And that evening at dinner, I requested an audience with Eileen's mother, and tendered my resignation. I concocted a story about a cousin of mine who was seriously ill, and said I felt I had made as much progress with her daughter as I could.

Well, that's kind of a cop-out, don't you think? The young tutor could have had quite a nice relationship with his student if he'd wanted to, although I suppose eventually she would have gone off to college as planned.

So, what did you think of the way the story ended?

If you would like to reread the complete set of Tutor posts in order, they're  here, here, here and here.