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Home Economics Miss Jordan had been trained as a Home Economics teacher. She watched that career crater around her as it became unfashionable to learn to cook, sew and take care of babies.

She got her masters in education and drifted into counseling, and, continuing got her PhD in Education. She was one of the first women in her school district to achieve this milestone.

Which was fortunate because, as politics went at the time, the school district was looking to promote women to leadership positions. Due to this fortunate political situation, she found herself Assistant Superintendent of Schools for Operations and Strategic Planning at a very young age, where she was noted for her old-fashioned ideas and respect for tradition.

Her family was reasonably wealthy, and, as an only child, she received a nice inheritance to go along with a hefty settlement when they died in a plane crash caused by a faulty tire on the plane they were taking for their annual trip someplace exotic in the world. The particular crash that ended their lives was in Cleveland, OH, where they were looking forward to their trip to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.

Miss Jordan was devastated, and ended up taking a leave of absence that turned into her retirement after twenty years service. Her pension was vested, but it wouldn't start until she was 55, which was, in her mind, OK, because she really didn't need it immediately and the government being the government, it wasn't going anyplace, as it might have with some private enterprise.

An inventory of her possessions included a healthy seven figure investment fund, a further substantial bank balance, her three bedroom, two bath house that she had bought on her teacher's salary when she'd first started, a sensible four door sedan and an Assistant Superintendent of Schools wardrobe. Given these resources, she spent some time thinking about what she wanted to do with the rest of her life. She was in her early forties, still attractive in a girl-next-door kind of way, but no more interested in getting married than she had been twenty years before when she had turned down the High School Basketball coach, who, to be fair, had some sort of dream of the two of them going to some rural school and becoming big fish in a little pond.

It just wasn't for her. She'd had a couple of reasonably healthy sexual relationships since then, but they wound down. Her life, in short, was at a crossroads. What did she really, really want to do? Her dream was to teach Home Economics, which she had started out to do 21 years before, but modern young women just weren't interested, and figuring out the logistics of such a thing was difficult, if not impossible.

She couldn't think of a way to do it. So she did what a school teacher ought to do, she started getting all the information she could about who was looking for an education in sewing, cooking, and the myriad of little tasks necessary for a well-run home. She exhausted the resources of the public library and turned to a new resource, the Internet, which was just opening to the public. She bought a computer and dove in.

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She started looking around, discovered Yahoo!, and was off on her journey. Surfing the Internet was interesting, it took her to many, many places. She was a little taken aback, at first, when she discovered that, amazingly, there were some people looking for housekeeping skills enthusiastically.

These were, however, gentlemen with a particular sexual perversion.

This intrigued Miss Jordan. She hadn't considered such a thing before. It sounded appealing to her, on several levels.

As most teachers, she was resolute, so studied the situation carefully. These gentlemen were not only interested in being supervised, an avocation that interested Miss Jordan anyway, but they needed and wanted all sorts of training, training that Miss Jordan was imminently qualified to provide, more qualified, in fact, than all of the current practitioners she could find.

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She considered all the ramifications. The profession, itself, still seemed enticing. The students somewhat less so; they were interested mostly in sex. But how was that different from High School students? A good teacher simply kept them focused on the goal. And, even better, discipline would not be a problem. Corporal punishment was sought after, not shunned, and, besides, simply getting rid of an uncooperative student was possible, unlike the public schools.

As was her way, she continued studying and learning as she began formulating her plans. Having decided it was both possible and desirable for her to finally be a Home Economics Teacher she only needed to plan carefully how to achieve her goal. She decided that nothing about her appearance need change, and, truth be told, little about her attitude. Like many school administrators, she had found it convenient to affect a severe, if not cold and impersonal, demeanor in dealing with her co-workers.

Once the decision was made, she started by advertising in the local underground paper, where her ad read: 'Spankings. No sex. Spankings only. Males preferred, females considered. 555-555-1212'. She rented a room in a strip shopping center that was anchored by an adult book store, a topless bar, a massage parlor and a couple of other private offices. It was furnished with a phone, a table with one drawer, and one chair.

The sign on her door read 'Consultations'. As soon as the paper came out, she started getting calls. Miss Jordan patiently explained her service to all her callers. The respondent would come to her office, drop his or her pants, bend over, grab their ankles, and Miss Jordan would spank them with a wooden paddle of the type common in public schools years before, for one half hour or until they asked her to stop.

The cost would be a certain amount, payable before dropping their trousers, in cash. The respondent would not talk, except to answer her questions with as few words as possible. All women accepted would wear trousers to the event.

If there got to be too many questions on the phone, Miss Jordan simply said she didn't think the person was right and hung up. Miss Jordan answered no questions whatever about herself, she hung up on everyone who asked. Given these restrictions, she made several appointments and the next Friday had her first 'appointment'.

He was middle-aged, overweight and a little furtive. She stood, in a suit that she had worn to work many times, and high heels with sensible makeup and hair in a bun, by the desk. He seemed confused. She pointed to the table. He reached in his pocket, pulled out the agreed sum and set it on the table. She took it, counted it, unlocked the drawer, put it in and took out a paddle with holes drilled in it, re-locked the drawer, and turned back around to her client.

He was just standing there. "Drop your trousers and your underwear to your ankles. Don't talk, do it now or get out." He hesitated a moment then unloosed his belt and let his pants drop and then dropped his underwear.

He was standing there in his coat, tie and shirt with his pants down at his shoes. "Bend over, as we discussed on the phone, now." He bent over and put his hands on his knees.

She walked up to him and pulled up his coat and shirt so his rear was exposed.

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She held out a stuffed sock and held it up to his mouth and said, "Open." The sock went in his mouth and she put the paddle gently on his buttocks. "This is going to hurt." She put her hand in the small of his back and pulled the paddle back and swung, the sound of it hitting his buttocks exploded in the quiet room. He grunted, she swung again and then said, "Good boy, I'm going to keep doing this until you say 'stop' or our half hour is up." She then started swinging in rhythm, every half second or so as his ass turned bright red.

After a few minutes he finally said, "Stop. Please Stop." She stopped immediately and went back and sat on the table with her legs crossed and watched him as he pulled his trousers back up.

When he was finished, she pushed a piece of paper to the front of the desk and a pen. "If you want spanked again, write down your name, phone number, and when approximately you'd like the next appointment." He considered this for a second and then, embarrassed, wrote his name, number and 'next week please' on the paper.

She unlocked the drawer and dropped the paper in and closed everything up. For the first time she smiled, "Very nice, Mr." and she read the name he had written on the paper, "I'll call you a day ahead of time if I decide to.

Good day." She went to the door, held it open for him and he left, not looking her in the eye. As she thought about it, she was extremely satisfied with how the whole transaction had gone. She had three more appointments that day, all of which went more or less the same, and at the end of the day, three of the four had requested a paddling again. The other had requested she stop after two strokes. She was pleased. She had expected that she would really like giving the spankings.

But that was only the first part of the plan. Unfortunately, she didn't consider any of her clients to be a candidate for Home Economics. She did this for two weeks, with a few repeats, and it was obvious to her that she could, if she wanted, do this and make a reasonable living so long as she didn't get too ambitious.

She investigated all the people who requested her to call. The ones that turned out to be legitimate businessmen she called and offered to spank them in a motel room, but explained that she would no longer maintain an office. She wound up with ten guys she spanked, one once a week, the others every two weeks or so. Once started, it was a difficult habit to completely quit cold turkey.

She started looking around. She wanted a younger male for her first actual student and she realized the people that could afford her spankings were not likely to be young. She thought she might be rationalizing it to herself, but she knew what she wanted, and a middle-aged man wasn't it. One possibility presented itself fairly quickly.

A fellow came by, young, and thin, with an easy smile she liked, who wanted to mow her lawn. She thought about it, and decided to try him out, and also to try to get to know him and find out about him. She insisted on identification that she used to investigate him on one of the many background check sites on the Internet. He was single, and lived with a couple of roommates, and originally was from a very small town.

It seemed he had just come to the city to seek his fortune, as many, many disappointed small-town high school graduates do. He turned out to be lazy and unreliable, though, so she silently rejected him after having him mow her lawn once. The next candidate that presented himself was a pizza delivery guy, who she engaged in conversation when she ordered a pizza from the local pizza parlor. She got his name, too, and investigated him. He also lived with a couple of roommates and was from a small town.

He drove a clunker, had fairly long blonde hair and a serious demeanor. He seemed to work hard. She asked him if he could help her move some furniture on a weekday, and offered to pay him a couple of bucks an hour over minimum wage, he jumped at the chance and her scheme was in motion. Now Miss Jordan had never been pregnant, and had kept herself in pretty good shape by jogging and just working and not overeating or drinking too much.

She therefore looked attractive still, in an older woman way. For the day Dave was coming over, she wore shorts, a blouse with puffed sleeves and a plunging bodice with a push-up bra, sandals and her hair up with ribbons in it. She was satisfied she looked good for any age, but especially good for her age, and especially good to a teenage boy, whose hormones were raging anyway.

Dave exchanged the furniture in the guest bedroom with the furniture in the room she called her sewing room and library. She supervised his every move and noted he snuck looks at her at every opportunity. When he had finished, she fixed them a little lunch and sodas and she made small talk about him, his life and ambitions. She wasn't particularly impressed.

She thought he probably smoked marijuana and lacked any real ambition. He essentially lived in the moment, which was good for her purposes. As advertised, he did work hard. After that day they were friends in a 'Miss Jordan and Dave' sort of way. She saw him a couple of times a month ordering pizza, and even rarely saw him around the shopping center where he worked. She always greeted him and smiled.

She hired him for little chores around the house a couple of times a month, just to accustom him to the routine. She was always dressed and made up impeccably when he encountered her. She was, of course, fully aware of the adolescent crushes young people often developed on their older teachers and determined to exploit it. Dave didn't seem to date at all and she determined to become his fantasy. In time, over sodas at her kitchen table, she prodded him with more personal questions.

He freely shared that he liked girls, but had never had a girl friend, even in High School. He attributed this to his small stature and shy manner. He, on the other hand, liked video games, which were all the rage, playing away his salary at arcades.


He didn't say anything about smoking marijuana, but, from time to time, she could smell it on him. Miss Jordan had a great, state-of-the-art, TV that was prominent in her living room. Practically everyone in the city watched the football games on Sunday.

When football season came, Dave mentioned he was going to watch the game at the arcade since the TV in their apartment was tiny. She took the opportunity to invite him over to watch it with her, which he gratefully accepted. On Sunday he came over half an hour before the game with a pizza, just like she always ordered, from his place of work and they sat down to watch the game together.

At the end of the first quarter he excused himself to go to the bathroom, where he proceeded to smoke a joint.

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The smell was overpowering but Miss Jordan acted as if nothing were amiss. Many people smoked dope, but it was illegal, and Miss Jordan didn't like the smell of it in her house. She did like how her plan was progressing. At halftime, he did the same thing. She said nothing. At the end of the third quarter, he did the same. This time Miss Jordan waited a couple of minutes and walked in on him in the bathroom with a joint fired up sitting on the toilet.

"I don't allow that in my house. Throw it in the toilet, flush it, and come back in the living room." She watched him put it in the toilet and flush it and led him to the living room. He was, of course, still stoned from his earlier joints. He figured she'd call the police and he'd go to jail if they found any on him, so he just flushed the other two joints he had before he followed her to face the music.

"Doing that in my house is putting everything I have at risk. Did you know the police could take everything if they found drugs in this house? It is really no risk at all for you, just me, and I don't appreciate it, not to speak of the noxious odor." Dave stood in the middle of the floor with the TV blaring the game, not with his full faculties trying to think of something to say other than he was sorry.

"You'll have to come tomorrow and scrub down the entire bathroom to get that smell out of it." "Yes Ma'am." "What were you thinking? I should just turn you over to the police, you betrayed my trust." "Please don't do that ma'am.

I'll come over tomorrow and make it right, or even now, if you want." "No more marijuana in this house?" "No ma'am." "Tomorrow will be fine, be here at 10. Now sit down and let's watch the rest of the game." He couldn't believe his good luck, Miss Jordan spent the last part of the game acting like nothing had occurred and treated him as usual. His mind was racing, should he just get out of town?

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No, he had no resources and he didn't feel like living in his car for a few weeks getting settled in a new place, again. She'd given him the way out, and seemed willing to let bygones be bygones.

He decided he'd dodged a bullet and determined to do better in his life. After the game, and small talk, she took him to the door with, "10 AM sharp, and don't be late." "No ma'am." The relief was palatable on his face as he walked to his car and drove away watching Miss Jordan standing in her doorway, watching him.

At 10 AM, true to his word, Dave rang the doorbell at Miss Jordan's house. She welcomed him in and took him down to the bathroom where she described what she wanted done, all the surfaces scrubbed, everything cleaned. She pointed Dave toward the cleaning supplies and, after watching him get started, left him to finish the job. Three hours of hard work left the bathroom spic and span.

Miss Jordan came and inspected it and was very complimentary. She invited Dave to join her at lunch, sandwiches, chips and iced tea, and they visited as if the work he had done was not punitive. Dave asked her what she did for a living since she seemed to be home all the time. She scratched her cheek and looked at him. "I don't stay home all the time, I have a job. Just because I'm always here when you're invited over, doesn't mean I don't have a job." "What kind of job do you have that allows you such hours?" Dave asked.

She eyed him, then, for one of the few times since he had known her, she smiled and leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand and her elbow on the table. "Why, Dave, I spank people." He looked at her shocked, "Spank people? Are you going to spank me?" tumbled out. Her smile got bigger. "Certainly not. Think for a moment, if I spanked you for smoking dope in my house, and you liked the spanking, you'd just smoke dope again in my house so I'd spank you again.

Everybody likes my spankings. We can't have that, can we?" "Liked it?" "Of course," her smile widened, "the people I spank like it, otherwise why would they pay me to do it?" "But doesn't it hurt?" "Of course, it hurts, what's the point of spanking someone if it doesn't hurt?" "They pay you?" "I'm very good at it, or so I'm told.

I swing a mean paddle." She regarded him carefully. "Why are you asking all these questions? Do you want me to spank you?" "No!" She smiled again, "Well, if you do, just remember I'm very good at it." He swallowed.

"OK." They began talking about other subjects, but Dave couldn't quit thinking about the spanking. "If I wanted you to spank me, would you?" "Certainly, I'm a professional. All you'll have to do is come up with the fee. Of course, like all professionals, I'm very expensive. Between your video games and pot in addition to your very limited income, you'd have no chance at all coming up with my fee." She raised her eyebrows and gave him a sly look.

"I'd have to pay?" His eyes almost bugged out of his head. "Of course, it wouldn't be fair to my other clients if you didn't pay, would it?" "I guess not. But I don't have any money." "Well, I suppose I could come up with some sort of arrangement, since you're interested. I tell you what, just this one time, and one time only, hand wash and dry the dishes from our lunch and the dishes I have in the sink and put them up, and I'll spank you as a sort of introductory offer." She smiled and her eyes twinkled, "What could be fairer than that?" "Nothing, I guess." "Now understand, you aren't getting spanked for smoking pot in my house, but we're trading a spanking for you doing the dishes, deal?" "Deal, I guess." "I'm really accustomed to a little more enthusiasm from my clients, are you sure you want me to spank you?" She continued smiling.

"Deal, then. I'll do your dishes." "Tell me why." She leaned closer and he could smell her perfume. He swallowed. "I'll do your dishes so you'll spank me." "OK. That's a contract, I guess. You do my dishes now, to pay for the spanking you want me to give you afterwards." "Yes, ma'am." "Look under the sink for detergent, if you have any questions how to do things, or what I want ask.

There are no dumb questions." He couldn't hide his erection as he started clearing off the table. He got the dish detergent from under the sink and started filling it with hot water. She checked the water and made it hotter. "Now put a little bleach in it to kill the germs and be careful, because I am going to inspect every dish, every piece of silverware." He followed her instructions and washed all the dishes.

She directed him to a dishtowel and he dried them, giving each item to her to inspect before putting it up where she directed.

His hard on was making it difficult to think, but he stood in front of her when he had finished. "Good, Dave, you did a good job, it's good to see you really do want to be spanked. Well I can't wait either! Now go stand in the middle of the living room, drop your trousers to the floor and bend over while I go get the paddle.

Be sure and leave me enough room to really swing it!" Her smile covered her face and her eyes danced. He did as he was instructed, and as his pants fell, she entered the room with her wooden paddle with holes in it.


She showed it to him while lightly tapping the palm of her left hand and smiling. "Now I'm going to take the briefs off your ass, because a bare-assed spanking is how it's done." She dropped the elastic of his briefs below the curve of his ass and rubbed it with her paddle. "Here, put this in your mouth" and she gave him a sock filled with some stuffing. "Bite down, the first swing is a surprise, but after that, it will get better." With that she raised her right hand and came down on his butt with a firm swing.

The sound of the paddle hitting his ass broke in the room, and he grunted and stood up a little. As he put his hands on his knees the sound of the second stroke filled the air. He gasped and bent back down. She kept smiling and delivered another blow and tears came to the corners of his eyes. He bent down in time to receive the next blow. This went on for several strokes, until he was actually sobbing. She opined, "That's good, when you cry, I know it's working and it makes you look so cute." She continued stroking as his tears became more noticeable until finally she stopped and rubbed his butt with the paddle again with a circular motion.

It was so tender he actually jumped at the gentle touch. "Good, nice and red, just like I like it. Now pull up your underwear and your pants.

It will probably be too much to expect you to sit down, so you can just leave now. And, don't worry, if you loved this as much as I think you did," and she pointed to his crotch which had an obvious wet spot, "all you have to do is ask me for another one, and I will try and work something out. You seem to really enjoy me spanking you." "Yes, Miss Jordan." They were at the door and he stumbled toward his car.

She stood in the doorway, smiling, holding the paddle behind her and waving until he drove out of sight.