Kinky Classroom

“Turn around.”

I did.

“Take those off.” He jabbed my shalwar with his walking stick.

I did.

“Bend.”

I did.

He stood up from his seat and limped closer to me. He had recently fractured his leg in a car accident. The class had been studying the Pythagoras theorem from a substitute teacher called Ma’am Annie for the time he didn’t come to class. He was recovering, he told us the first day he got back. He hoped we had missed him, he said with a chuckle. Nervous smiles followed.

Nobody was smiling now, though. As I stood, bent and half naked, my gaping backside facing the room full of thirty four boys, the class observed pin drop silence. Ma’am Annie would’ve been surprised to see us so quiet. We were a rowdy lot.

“Do you feel sorry for what you did?” He asked as soon as he came to stood right behind me.

“Yes…sorry…” I mumbled. I wouldn’t have been able to manage a single word out of fear but we were taught to always respond as soon as a question was asked. Or it got worse.

SMACK.

I felt his cold hand turn my backside hot with a loud spank. I didn’t cry out but I was crying.

“Sorry, Sir. I won’t drop my pencil again.” I said in a steadier voice than before, bracing myself for another blow.


It didn’t come.

I was allowed to sit back in my seat 9 minutes and 43 seconds later.


“Who’s your favorite teacher?” Ma’am Annie had asked on her last day as the grade 4 math teacher in our small classroom in Chak.

The class responded instantly and in unison, “Sir Azam!”


Dominant

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