Mlle Du Pain listened closely as Dr Mercer lamented the declining standards of the youth. She herself disagreed with his observation, but his view was common amongst persons of middle age and beyond. Since she was almost a third of the physics teacher's age and only a handful of years older than the new students, Pete would probably view her as no different to the new girls. Knowing that the older man probably considered her as a brazen little French tart caused mixed emotions in the petite Gallic teacher. There was a certain amount of affront at being condescended to, but also the realisation that many of the girls Dr Mercer had trained would be far older than her by now. Only chance had made them meet as fellow teachers rather than Paris being under Pete's supervision. The unwanted image of herself bent across a desk as the powerfull man spanked her bottom and forced her to fellate him appeared in her mind.<br/><br/>Dr Mercer had finished expounding his views on the deteriorating morals of young women and Paris noticed that his gaze had fallen to her chest. She could tell without looking from the dull throbbing and the rub of silk on sensitive skin that her nipples were rock hard and pressing against her blouse. She grinned to herself, her gaze flicking swiftly to Pete's crotch and back up to meet his gaze. The man's erection was bulging the front of his trousers quite impressively. Paris felt a warm glow of mild revenge for her slapped bottom that her looks had caused the stiff cock that Pete would be forced to walk out with.<br/><br/><strong>"Oui, it must be so hard for you."</strong>Paris sympathised with a grin at her double entendre.<strong>"Hopefully the insight I bring as one who has been schooled much as we are to teach these girls will be of some help, no?"</strong><br/><br/>Paris poured herself a cup of coffee as Richard joined the conversation, displaying a more upbeat outlook on the new students and seemingly enthusiastic about his teaching role. Du Pain crossed to a comfortable lounge chair and took a seat, crossing her slender legs so that the slit in her skirt opened to reveal the lacy band of her stocking top and the taut strap of garter. She popped open her briefcase and pulled out the freshly cut birch switch. Still soft and pliable the two foot cane gleamed white with it's bark stripped off.<br/><br/><strong>"I had a walk around the school grounds yesterday evening."</strong>She informed her fellow teachers.<strong>"I found there were some tres bon stands of trees suitable for cutting switches. I believe that it is traditional to make naughty children cut the rods for their own bottoms, is it not? I think that might be an interesting tradition to honour, is there not an English saying about making a rod for your own bottom?"</strong>