SSC	A Chance Meeting	Adult

'Hullo.' 

That's how it had started.  A friendly hullo in a busy
bar.  Miss Johnson, the Deputy Head of year at my old
school, and responsible for discipline. I had finished
there five years ago now.

'Hullo' I replied. Miss Johnson isn't it?'

'David, you remember me. Please, call me Jane.'

Jane sat down.  She was extremely attractive, and easy
to talk to.  A far cry from those days back at school.
Although only 15 years older than her students, she
was feared at the time.  She took discipline very
seriously and caned several students every week.

We had a lovely chat though, and several drinks, and
then she asked me back to her place.  Why not, I
thought.  What's 15 years age difference now?  

Jane made coffee.  She snuggled up to me on the sofa
and we talked for ages.  

The conversation turned to my last day at school. 
There had been a big rumpus when six students had
trashed a car, but only five were caught. She had
given each of them six strokes of the cane.  

I went quiet because I knew that I was the sixth.  

She turned to me and said 'Cat got your tongue?'

I giggled.  She said, also laughing, 'I always knew it
was you, but no one would give me your name.  You got
away with it. I seem to recall you never did get the
cane from me, did you?' 

'No' I said.

I was feeling so relaxed, what with her soft body next
to me, 

'Didn't you ever wonder what it was like to be caned
by me?' she asked.

'Sometimes'. I lied.

She kissed me on the lips.

She lent in close and asked 'What about I cane you
now, and then who knows about that?' she said lightly
fingering the bulge in my trousers

She was just so sexy.

It must have been the drink, but I asked 'How many
strokes would I get first?'

She thought for a moment and said 'Oh, I will decide
when I am caning you.'

'Well, erm' I said a bit anxiously.

'Fine' she said, and sat up straight.

I can't lose her now.  'No, really, do it, please, I
deserve it.'

She kissed me again, and then got up.

'Right. Take your trousers down and bend over that
stool, whilst I get my cane. Oh, and let's get kinky.
I'll tie your hands to the stool.'

There I was, bent over the stool, bare bottom arched
high, unable to move, but certain that after a couple
of strokes we would make passionate love.  

She came back in. She had put on her school gown. Her
mood had changed.  She was now the strict School
Mistress of old.

She said sternly, 'I have waited five years to catch
up with you.  That was my brand new car. This is going
to hurt. A lot. And sex afterwards, no chance.'

I was sobering up fast.  What a teaser. What a cow.  

SWISH. Oooowwwww.