The school project (M/F story)

One Thursday morning, our geography teacher let us know that we would be working on a project for the next few weeks. We had to pick a country and give a presentation on it to the rest of the class; history, culture, cuisine, anything we could dig up. As the class began to split into pairs, I scanned the room to see who was available. I partly wanted to work with my friend Matthew, but I had also worked quite well with Susan in the past, and I was hoping for a decent grade on the project.

 

Suddenly, Jessie walked up to me. She was a girl with some goth tendencies – she'd dyed her hair black, wore black nail polish and lipstick, and tended to wear tight shirts and short skirts. She seemed like she was trying to project an aura of dark mystery and wicked secrets, but she usually came across as rude. Though I suppose that was close enough, in her eyes.

 

She asked me if we could do the project together. I was a bit surprised, as we didn't know each other that well. I had nothing against her, mind you. She was just another person in my class. "Sure," I said.

 

"We can work on it in my flat tomorrow evening. Be there at six," she said, and walked back to her seat. A bit rude, in my opinion. What if I had plans for Friday night? I didn't, but she didn't know that. But I decided to let it go.

 

Now that I had time to think, I began to wonder if she was hoping to unload all the work on me. I'd had some project partners like that in the past, who just hope to cruise their way to a good grade on your hard work. Well, if that was her plan, she'd find opposition.

 

Jessie had a small flat on the eastern side of town. I didn't know why she didn't live with her parents and hadn't seen the point in asking. She was a year or two older than the rest of us, and the rumour was that she'd been held back a year or two, which had caused some disagreement between her and her parents, but that was just hearsay.

 

I had been slightly worried that I would be spending my evening trying to force her to do half the work, but it turned out to be even worse than I had feared. She didn't have any suggestions for which country we should use and said it was all the same for her, but she shot down every suggestion I made as 'stupid'. Nor was she willing to explain what was wrong with my choices, apart from that they were 'really dumb'.

 

We finally settled on Thailand, but when I wanted to find some sources we could use to gather information, she suggested that we should just copy the Wikipedia article. I tried to explain that we would have to do put in a bit of effort if we wanted a good grade, but she sighed and said that sounded 'really hard'. As the evening progressed, I grew more and more annoyed with her. She was rude and dismissive to everything I suggested and acted more like a pre-teen than the legal adult she was.

 

At one point, she started rooting around in her backpack for her cell phone, intending to play some mobile game, but that was actually one of the few highlights of the evening. You see, we were sitting on the couch, and she'd placed the backpack on the floor to the side. To reach it, she had to bend over the couch arm, and thanks to the fact that she was wearing an even shorter skirt than usual, I got an excellent view of her shapely backside, barely covered by a white thong. I had to admit, she had a beautiful bottom.

 

As she was bent over, poking her rear end in my direction, my palm began to itch, and I felt like giving her a hard smack. Or even more – maybe a good spanking would fix that attitude problem of hers? I'd always had a secret interest in spanking, and I had a feeling that she would greatly benefit from a helping hand in the right place.

 

I looked away, doing my best to push the thoughts to the back of my mind. It probably wouldn't be a good idea, no matter how appealing it sounded.

 

But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't rid myself of the mental image, and the thought seemed better and better for every tantrum she threw. Finally, I told her that she would have to pull herself together and agree to do half the work.

 

She folded her hands in front of her. "Or what?"

 

The sentence that had been playing at the back of my mind fought its way to the front and escaped from my lips before I could stop it: "Or I'll take you across my knee and spank your bottom!"

 

To my surprise, a triumphant look seemed to glide across her features before she glared at me again. There was a definite taunt in her eye as she sneered. "You wouldn't dare."

 

I wasn't going to let this opportunity pass me by, consequences be damned. I grabbed her arm and pulled her towards me. She protested loudly as I dragged her across my lap, but she didn't make the slightest attempt to resist, not even when my palm smacked down on her wriggling seat. She scoffed, as if trying to tell me that it didn't even hurt, so I quickly added a dozen spanks to her rear, each harder than the last.

 

"Ouch! You can't do this," she whined as she wriggled her rear invitingly.

 

"You've been an absolute brat all evening," I told her. "You're sulky and rude, and you've done nothing to help in this project we're supposed to be doing together! You deserve everything you're going to get." And I flipped up her skirt, exposing her taut cheeks to my hungry gaze.

 

As I continued to spank her, her protests soon stopped, and she seemed lost in the moment – she lifted her hips at every smack, bringing her rear up to meet my palm. I think there had been an element of punishment when it started, but if there had, it was long gone now. It was clear that she was enjoying the spanking immensely, and so was I.

 

I looked down at her thong, and wondered if she would protest if I tried to pull it down. I found her reactions very hard to predict. I decided that there was only one way to find out. As I grabbed the waistband of her thong and began to slide it down, I heard her chuckle. "You've decided to peek at the goods?"

 

"All real spankings are delivered on the bare bottom," I told her, trying my best to sound stern. "It makes the lesson stick."

 

"Oh yes, I must really learn from my punishment, right, sir?" she said.

 

Sir? I hadn't expected to hear that word from her. Had she been visiting the same sort of websites as me? I rubbed her bottom gently, listening to the soft sound of her moans before I continued to spank her. By now, her bottom had turned slightly pink.

 

By the time I stopped the spanking, her entire bottom was bright pink and looked like it would glow in the dark. As I helped her up, she looked at me with something that almost looked like respect. Or possibly admiration? In either case, I had to be mistaken. Jessie never showed respect or admiration to anyone.

 

She sat down on my lap, careful not to let the spanked flesh touch my jeans, and I held her close. She surprised me again by leaning close, kissing my lips. I kissed her back. And as she sat there in my embrace, she told me the whole story.

 

"A few weeks ago, I decided to sneak into the classroom during the lunch break. I hoped that you would have some schoolwork I could copy on your computer, but as I was looking for it, I came across a folder of stories. Sexy stories," she said, blushing. If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I'm not sure I would have thought her capable of blushing.

 

"The spanking stories I wrote," I said.

 

She nodded. "I was surprised to find stuff like that on your computer. You've always seemed so proper – a bit dull, maybe. At first, I started reading them because I was curious, but…" she licked her lips. "After a while, they seemed to fill a hunger I didn't know I had."

 

"So you decided to brat your way into a spanking?" She nodded again. "You could have just talked to me, you know. That would have been much easier."

 

"Yeah I know," she said. She gave me another kiss. "But my way's much more fun."

 

I'll freely admit that the project really wasn't the best work I've ever done. I blame the fact that I had a sexy imp at my side, wriggling her backside in my face every time she felt frisky, which led to a lot of breaks.