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A Modern Education
Rosalyn Beauchamp carefully placed one foot in front of the other as her stylish high heels clacked their way down the parquet floor. This gave her a sashaying gait that coupled with her expensive skirt suit made her feel like a model on a catwalk. Judging from the glances of the older boys and masters alike she guessed she also looked the part, and the expression that lightly touched her lips was bordering on smug. At 40 you still have it, she thought, her smile now barely contained by her full pouting lips.

To avoid meeting any male gaze she kept her eyes and nose turned upwards in a gesture of aloofness as if eye-contact might break the spell and give her away as a fraud. It was a posture that drew her glance to the high school windows that were set too far from the ground to see out of. This and the airy wide corridor added to the feeling that the school was turned inwards and remained an elite haven from the world. And so it should be, Rosalyn thought, her step-daughter's school fees certainly cost her enough.

She smelt the old wood and polish, a scent to take her back to her own school days and a building much like this one. The only difference was that her alma mater had no boys. Catherine must be having a high old time, Rosalyn thought, and that was the trouble.

She was just pondering this as she arrived at Catherine's housemaster's study door. Rosalyn's tummy did tumbles as memories came flooding back, and her bottom twitched against the fabric of her D&G pencil skirt. Unconsciously, she fussed with her auburn red hair as if to be certain that it did not reach her collar, but catching herself she pressed her tongue to her cheek and remembered her business.

The door was cold and hard to her knuckles and she still couldn't quite suppress the apprehension of old, perhaps with good reason.

She was admitted by a handsome rugger type pushing 50. His smile was genuine and for once she made an effort to remember his name, as if being bonkable rendered him more significant than being the mere guardian of Catherine's education.

Peter, she thought, her mind in a scrabble. "Mr Trent," she managed, but saying it a shade too quickly.

"Mrs Beauchamp," he said warmly as he ushered her in.

"I hope you don't mind me calling in, I know it isn't really done." She made a grimace. "But I gather our Catherine has been rather troublesome."

Peter Trent pulled a chair from the desk and gestured her to sit. His smile became relaxed and he made a dismissive gesture. "No more so than any other spirited 18-year-old about to leave us," he chuckled. "When faced with their final term these eager young people do tend to jump the gun when it comes to obeying the rules and imagine themselves immune."

Happy that she had scored a window seat in the crowded airliner, Bonnie Ballard enjoyed the view. As always, she was amazed at the immensity of Texas. No stranger to Texas, she was even familiar with her specific destination. She would be visiting the Grant ranch, owned by Joseph Grant. Joseph was a close friend of her family and had been a figure in Bonnie's life since she was a baby. But this trip would be different from her previous stays at the ranch, which essentially had been family vacations - different in a very life-changing way. The fact that this was the first time she had ever traveled alone would have been sufficient to make this trip an adventure she would remember for the rest of her life. But merely traveling alone was a small thing compared to what was about to happen to her.

Over the next two weeks, Bonnie would be visiting the Grant ranch as a prospective wife for Joseph Grant himself, a man old enough to be her father! She had been told that she must get to know Joseph's two present wives, learn to love them and to not be jealous of them. Should she marry Joseph, they would become her 'sister wives'. Also this would be her chance to get to know Joseph in a very different way than she had ever known any man before. It would be a sort of courtship, a way to determine if she and Joseph were meant for each other.

Inexperienced in matters of courtship and sexuality, Bonnie was aware that she had much to learn, and she correctly suspected that Joseph was just the man to teach her. For the last few weeks she had fantasized a lot about this trip and about Joseph. What would it be like? She had been told that she would spend much time alone with Joseph. While together, they would be doing... what? The very thought put butterflies in her stomach. And, oh yes ... before leaving she had been told one other small detail: during those two weeks she would be spanked - spanked at least twice! At that thought, Bonnie surreptitiously scrunched her young bottom in her airline seat.

To her slight discomfort, a youngish man occupied the seat next to her and wasn't quite hiding his interest. He saw a shapely young woman with long straight golden hair whom he correctly guessed to be about eighteen years old. Her face was still so fresh with youth that he didn't even notice her lack of makeup. However her modest long dress, of a traditional design, made her stand out from the crowd.

Finally he could contain himself no longer. "Um, Miss? Do you mind if I ask? Do you happen to be a Quaker?"

"No, not a Quaker. I'm from a conservative branch of the Mormon faith." She had answered politely, but slightly distantly, not encouraging further conversation. Bonnie wasn't on the market for new male companionship.

A Satisfactory Tale featuring Miss MacBride
It was all rather mysterious. A few months ago Miss MacBride had applied for the post of English mistress at a shabby but genteel boys' preparatory school. There were three other applicants, all older than she was. She had gathered that the post involved not only teaching English but a great deal of pastoral care. In effect, if selected, she would be an assistant housemistress to Mr Parry who ran one of the four houses at the school. As far as experience went she had only two years teaching at a boys' preparatory school although for a year and a half she had been engaged as a tutor for two mischievous young boys. Neither of them had been very keen on hard work to begin with but after the judicious and regular application of a light school cane to their bare bottoms they found that they possessed a great deal of enthusiasm for hard work after all. Miss MacBride was an extremely competent young woman but she felt just a little nervous as she entered the headmaster's study.

The headmaster, Mr Deverell, a short plump man with ears that stuck out at a peculiar angle, conducted the interview and she quickly formed a strong impression that he was a snob of the very worst kind. He had made an off the cuff remark about how unfortunate it was that in order to make ends meet the school had to accept boys whose fathers were in 'trade'. As if it were a disease that one caught from mixing with one's social inferiors. It had made the small fine hairs on the back of her neck stand to attention and before she could stop herself, she found herself speaking as if she were admonishing a small boy for a lapse in his table manners.

"There is nothing at all wrong with being in trade, as you call it, headmaster. My father was a bus driver for thirty-five years before he retired."

She imagined that her eyes were flashing as if she were a spirited heroine in a romantic novel. She was so unbelievably angry that she could have happily reached over and boxed his rather oversized ears. Of course the headmaster had held up his hands with a pained expression on his face. He had apologised profusely but she had known then with utter certainty that she had no chance of getting the job. So it had proved, a brief letter expressing regret that she had not gained the appointment duly arrived. Then six weeks later an urgent telephone call from the headmaster himself. Apparently, he had been very impressed with her at the interview: would she be immediately available still to take up the post as the school had been let down very badly indeed.

She couldn't help speculate about just how the school had been let down but as she had no offers of employment there was only one possible answer she could give.

Chapter 1
Tyler Hampton waited as the security guard posted at the gate to her rambling Hollywood home allowed the studio limousine to take her to the front door of the large stone house. She breathed a sigh of relief at being home after the last day of filming for her newest work. Now she was going into seclusion for two weeks for a badly needed retreat so that she could reflect on her still young career and perhaps address some unfinished business of a unique nature.

She had been a top-tier actress for some time, and had found it ironic that after she had found fame and fortune it was as difficult for her to get time away from the chaos of Hollywood as when she was a struggling unknown needing to work hard every day. The fact that she was finally going to have a clandestine vacation was almost surreal to her.

After filming the last love scene in a bedroom setting on the studio grounds, she asked that her driver leave her safely inside the stretch vehicle, hidden behind the darkened windows with the doors locked, while he went inside the fast food establishment and picked up her evening meal. As far as she was concerned, her vacation was officially on.

As she began her time off, her mind was reeling from an onslaught of emotions, excitement and anxieties. To top it all off, her libido was on a rampage. It would have been sufficient for her to simply know that she was going to have a quiet evening in seclusion to enjoy a personal marathon session of watching edits of nearly every spanking that had ever taken place in a western movie or television show.

If that had not been enough, the late afternoon love scene that concluded the filming of the R-rated suspense-filled movie had an enhanced sense of realism in comparison to others she had done. During the scene she had worn just a flesh colored thong, and her co-star was wearing a male version of the same. He also happened to be the newest cinema hunk, and during the filming of the scenes she was driven by distraction (and nearly to climax) by the fact that she was distinctly and constantly in contact with the evidence that he was also finding the action more than a little stimulating.

She had filmed several such scenes, though none quite so steamy as that one. She could certainly not quite fathom how she could experience such arousal with cameras operating and a crew present as she writhed and pressed downward on her co-star's midsection. She also knew that at least one camera was positioned behind her as she enthusiastically did so in order that some flash glimpses of her now legendary bare backside could be inserted in the final production.

She also knew that the release of the film would set off another argument in the entertainment media over whether there was a distinct difference between some R-rated films and those getting an NC-17 rating.

Curfew, Panties and Lies
The Curfew

Leaning against the front door, Ali waved a last goodbye to Alex as he pulled his little red bug out of the drive and puttered silently down the street. She loved that little car. The fact that it was smaller than most of her friends' cars only made it more endearing to her. And of course she had no car to compare it to because there was no way her parents would ever buy her one. They were so archaic.

After watching Alex completely disappearing down the block, Ali started shuffling through her purse to find her house key. Of course, as usual she found it lying at the bottom. Pulling it out, she carefully slid it into the lock, trying not to make any noise that might wake her parents or little sister. The last thing she wanted was to confront any of them.

Opening the door noiselessly, Ali stepped inside and locked it behind her. So far so good. No lights were on in the living room to indicate that anyone was still up. She knew if her parents heard her coming in they would be all over her for being past her curfew. They always were. Her parents were stricter then most parents. It seemed her friends were always able to do things she couldn't.

Tiptoeing to the staircase, she put her foot on the bottom step just as she saw a light snap on in the room behind her.

Turning her head slowly, Ali saw her father sitting in his lounge chair staring at her with a fury that only he could display.

"Crap," she muttered under her breath as she turned around.

"Young lady, do you know what time it is?" Mr. Nichols asked in a low voice.

She did know the time unfortunately. She was an hour late but it hadn't really been her fault that she was late. No one else had a twelve o'clock curfew and it was too embarrassing to make Alex bring her home before everyone else. She'd rather die first.

"I asked you a question, Alison, and I expect an answer," he snapped after several moments of silence had passed.

Swallowing hard, Ali decided to play the innocent as she choked out, "A few minutes after twelve?"

Mr. Nichols pursed his lips together tightly as he continued staring at his daughter for several long seconds.

"Try again," he snarled, finally breaking the uncomfortable silence.

"Daddy, I'm sorry I'm a little late," Ali apologized, walking slowly towards the living room. "We had to go to a later movie because the earlier one was sold out and..."

"Come in here and sit down, Alison," Mrs. Nichols interrupted.

"Momma?!" Ali cried in surprise. "I didn't know you were here too."

"You know your mother can't sleep until all you girls are in for the night," Mr. Nichols replied angrily.