Reforming Little Anya by Rose St. Andrews Read Free Book Online Page A

and tapped her panty-clad bottom.
    “All right, you’re going to get a little history test, Miss Holstein. For every wrong answer, you get five smacks, clear?”
    “Y-y-yes, sir,” she stammered.
    “For what speech is President Abraham Lincoln best known?”
    She smiled. That was easy. “The Gettysburg Address.”
    Jessica stiffened and jumped slightly as she saw, out of the corner of her eye, his arm start to swing. She grinned when he froze and his face went blank. Clearly he hadn’t expected her to know.
    He lowered his arm and slowly nodded. “Correct. Very good. All right, next question.”
    It continued like that: he asked questions, and she answered. It was good being a genius. It was clear that he was amazed when she gave all the right answers. Finally, he seemed satisfied, and Jessica heaved a sigh of relief. She was learning to control these people. Her relief was short-lived.
    “I must compliment you, Miss Holstein; a perfect score, you did not earn extra . But, you’re still getting the ruler for falling asleep.”
    “What? No, that’s not—ouch,” she yelped.
    She was tempted to jump to her feet and complain, maybe even slap his face, but she knew that was one sure way of earning that extra. So, she grit her teeth and waited for the first blow. She felt the tap-tap-tap of the ruler again, and clenched her glutes. Her mind tried to process what was about to happen. It was a ruler. It was small and thin; it surely couldn’t hurt very much.
    Crack! Viktor struck, and now her mind processed something else: pain.
    Holy shit, that hurt!
    In an instant, she snapped to attention, and her hand flew to her dainty right cheek, the unfortunate receiver of that first blow.
    “Ow,” she squealed. “Sir, that really stung.”
    “It’s supposed to, little girl,” he shot back. “You broke position. Do that again and you get an additional two strokes. Now, bend over,” he added, pointing at the desk with the ruler.
    Jessica groaned, but did as instructed. She held on tightly to the edge of the desk, desperate not to move again. Looking down, she saw that her fingernails were almost pure white. Then came the next stroke, and she felt a matching rectangle of pain ignite on her left cheek.
    “Eeep,” she yelped, and shut her eyes tight.
    Before she could draw another breath, the third smack landed, bridging her twin mounds, and her right leg snapped up. She was actually surprised at her body’s reaction; she almost kicked herself in the behind.
    “Anya, you settle down,” he said, again taking aim.
    She looked over her shoulder at him. “But, sir, I held position.”
    “Not entirely,” he replied, and landed another blow.
    “Ouch! Sir, please, I’ve learned my lesson.”
    “Anya, only I and Misha decide that. And remember, you keep your feet on the floor. That’s part of holding position,” he explained, and an especially firm swat struck her low on the right cheek.
    Jessica lurched forward, yet held on for dear life, and squealed. “Owwiieee! Yes, sir, yes, okay, I understand.”
    Whack! Crack! The ruler landed again and again, each smack seemed to get harder. Jessica yelped and howled, and soon she felt her eyes fill with tears.
    God, how does something so small and thin burn like the ever-loving devil?
    Forehand, backhand, Viktor swung that ruler like some sort of tennis pro, and several whacks caught her at her most tender spot: right where her thighs met her cheeks. Then it came to her. Of course he was an expert; he must have paddled the girls plenty of times. She sunk her fingernails so deep into the desk, she just about gouged claw marks into the wood. But at least she hung on. At the same time, she locked her knees and curled her toes, practically willing them to take root in the flooring. Only two parts of her body moved: her ass twitched and wiggled at each wallop, and her head snapped back as she wailed and the tears began to flow.
    “Owwwiieeee! Sir, pleaseeee, I sorryyyyyy, beee