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  1. Getting Carly Ready for Her First Date
  2. Getting a Detention in the Nude

Getting a Detention in the Nude

Categories Fantasy, First Time, Humiliation, Male / Female

Authror: stifflittlepoints

Published: 07 June 2018

  • Font:

Five more minutes and school would be over for the day. Emma stared out of the window and watched the rain cascading across the playground. She liked her new private school, but the teachers were very strict, and you had to follow closely a Student Code of Conduct. English was her favorite subject and Mr. Johnson was her favorite teacher but the day was nearly over and she'd lost interest in the intricacies of Othello's love life. She was planning her evening and her plans didn't include Shakespeare.

It had been a week since she'd heard from Jennifer, and Elyse seemed to be busy every evening. They'd planned to meet tomorrow but she couldn't wait till then. She'd have to phone and find out how Jennifer's interviews had gone. The strident voice of her English teacher jerked her back to reality.

"Emma! You're not paying attention. I don't think your work is good enough that you can afford to ignore the lesson. See me in my study after school. Perhaps you'll be able to concentrate better in your own time."

At that moment the final bell rang and Emma cursed her bad timing. Another minute or two and she would have been going home and now her plans for the evening were ruined. She hoped that Mr. Johnson wouldn't keep her behind for long - she was having enough problems with her step-father without having to tell him that she'd been assigned a detention.

She wondered if she'd get away with saying that she'd had to shelter from the rain. The weather had been fine and dry when she left home that morning and she hadn't bothered with a coat. She looked out at water streaming down the windows and realized that her step-father would never believe her because it looked as if she was going to get wet anyway.

Mr. Johnson's study was on the other side of the school and she was going to have to walk or run across the playground in the rain to get there. She waited at her desk till the other pupils had left, in the hope that the down pour would stop but she was out of luck again. Five paces into the playground and the rain began to beat down with renewed ferocity as though it had only been waiting for her to step outside.

She arrived at her teacher's study soaked and shivering. Her long blonde hair hung in lank tendrils about her face and her blouse and skirt were sticking to her slim body like a second skin.

Her teacher had managed to stay dry somehow (secret passageway under the building?), which added to Emma 's misery as she stood before him with her drenched clothes dripping water onto the carpet. He took a towel from his desk and casually tossed it to her.

"You're soaked through. You'd better get those wet clothes off."

Emma looked quizzically at her teacher.

"Sir?"

"What's the matter? Do you want to catch your death a cold?"

The youngster looked bewildered.

"No, sir, but I've got nothing to change into."

"Put the towel around you until your clothes are dry and hurry it up, you're dripping water everywhere."

"I can't undress in front of you. I'd rather go home and change."

Her teacher sighed impatiently.

"I'm sure you would, but in case you've forgotten, you're been assigned a detention."

Emma hadn't forgotten. She was still wondering how to tell her parents about it. She shivered - as much from nervousness as the cold.

"I could do the detention tomorrow sir. It's not my fault that I'm all wet."

"It's your fault that you're in detention. Anyway . . . tomorrow is inconvenient for me. It has to be this evening. Now get out of those wet clothes and put the towel round you. I'll light the fire and you can sit by it to keep warm while your things dry."

Emma 's heart raced as she realized that her teacher was serious. He actually expected her to undress with him in the room. The youngster felt torn between the discipline that said she must obey her teacher and her instinct to preserve her modesty. He obviously meant what he said, but she couldn't take her clothes off in front of him.

"Is there somewhere that I could change, sir?"

He gave her a withering glance, "What's wrong with here?"

"I could go to the bathroom and change," she suggested desperately.

"And run back here with just a towel around you? I don't think so."

The trembling youngster made a final plea.

"Please, sir, could you leave the room while I undress?"

"Are you suggesting that I'd want to look at your body child? That's a very serious accusation."

"No, sir, I don't think that. It's just that I'm embarrassed."

"Don't be silly, I'm not even looking at you. Now, do as I tell you unless you want detention for the rest of the term."

Emma 's green eyes widened as she stared back at him in astonishment. Then she remembered - Mr. Johnson had kept Jennifer in detention for weeks on end. He obviously meant what he said. Her voice sounded more defiant than she felt.

"You can't keep me in for not undressing, sir."

Her teacher picked up a thin cane from the desk top and flexed it casually.

"I can keep you in for disobeying me and I can do even worse for insolence."

He slapped the cane into the palm of his hand with a loud crack and turned away to study the book shelves as though the matter was closed. Emma felt a cold chill of fear at the casual threat of violence. The frightened youngster hesitated for a moment. There was no telling how real her teacher's threat was but she decided that it would be safer to obey him than to risk the alternative.

His back was to her as he bent to light the gas fire and he showed no sign of turning round. Emma Lucy hurriedly stripped off her skirt and blouse and grabbed the towel. She struggled to cover herself, but what he had given her was only somewhat bigger than a hand towel. It was obviously too small to conceal her bust and her thighs at the same time.

While her teacher hung her clothes over a chair, she looked around for something larger to cover herself but there was nothing in the room. The young girl stood self-consciously for several minutes and began to fidget nervously as her teacher fussed with her wet clothes. He smoothed and flattened each garment as he spread it over the chair. There was only a skirt and blouse but he seemed to be taking his time over the job.

"Don't you wear pants Emma?"

"Yes, sir, of course I do."

"And a bra?"

"Yes, sir?"

"They don't seem to be here. Are you still wearing them?"

"Y-yes, of course I am, sir."

"Take them off. You can't sit around in wet clothes."

Emma trembled violently. She already felt naked and vulnerable without her skirt or blouse. Surely he didn't expect her to take her bra and panties off as well. He raised his head and stared at her with an air of expectation.

"I don't need to take them off, sir. I'm sure they'll dry all right while I'm wearing them."

"No they won't Emma. Please stop behaving like a silly child and take them off."

Emma set her mouth obstinately and pulled the scrap of towel more tightly round her shivering frame. She had no intention of stripping naked in front of anybody and she was ready to argue the point.

Her teacher crossed the room purposefully and for a moment Emma panicked as she thought that he intended to strip her himself. She clutched the towel more tightly and backed away but her teacher went straight to his desk and picked up the cane.

Emma 's eye's opened wide in horrified amazement as he gripped the end of the cane and flexed it experimentally. It took several seconds for the young girl to appreciate the real enormity of her situation.

Her teacher obviously intended to threaten her with a beating unless she took everything off. He surely couldn't be serious. The anxious youngster decided to call his bluff. He could say what he liked but she was not going to take her bra and pants off. She wished that she had gone home to get dry instead of meekly doing as he had ordered, but it was too late now. She stood in silent defiance and waited for him to back down.

Her teacher was equally silent. His face was grim and his lips set tightly as he silently raised the cane. Emma still did not believe that he would really strike her until she heard the whistle of the thin cane and felt the stinging lash as it smacked her bare thigh. She screamed in pain and surprise but the cane was already lashing out at her other leg. The blow landed and she squealed again. A thin red stripe appeared on the fleshy top of each leg and she desperately hopped backwards to avoid the next blow.

"You can't do this. It's not allowed, I'll report you to the authorities."

She heard the swish of the cane before it landed. This time on both legs, just below her buttocks and this time the burning pain brought tears to her eyes. She wondered if her teacher had used his cane on Elyse. She'd had plenty of detentions but she'd never mentioned being caned. Now that Emma thought about it, she realized that Jennifer had never really discussed her detentions at all. Was this the reason for her secrecy? Had Mr. Johnson done the same things to her?

"You're in no position to tell me what I can do Emma, and it will be your word against mine if you report it. The marks will have faded before you get home. Now get those wet things off before I give you a real caning."

The tearful youngster was too frightened to reply. She was sure that if she said anything at all, he would hit her again. Hot salt tears streamed down her cheeks as she turned her back on her teacher and removed her bra. She dropped it to the floor and struggled to peel off her wet panties with one hand while she clutched the towel around her with the other.

Her teacher picked up the flimsy garments in silence and sat down at his desk. To Emma 's surprise, he ignored her but instead studied the flimsy damp scraps of material in his hand. She waited silently, expecting him to hang her underwear with the rest of her clothes but he appeared to be absorbed in his thoughts. It was as if he had forgotten she was in the room.

The tension was unbearable - half of her hoped that he would continue to ignore her but the other half wanted the ordeal to be over as quickly as possible. Too embarrassed to speak, she coughed nervously. He looked up and stared at her as if he was surprised to find a near naked girl in the room.

"Yes? What is it?"

She pointed to her underwear.

"My things - aren't you going to hang them up to dry . . . sir?"

He looked down at his hand

"Ah yes, sit down then Emma."

He indicated an old armchair opposite his desk and, still struggling to preserve her modesty, Emma sank into it. The sagging springs gave no support to her weight and she slumped into an almost horizontal position that allowed her teacher to see to the top of her legs and beyond.

She hastily crossed her legs and frowned in bewilderment. He'd said that he wasn't interested in her body but his gaze was focused intently between her bare thighs. She noticed that he was still holding her panties and bra, turning them in his hand and manipulating them between his fingers. He seemed especially interested in her small bra, and momentarily put a couple of fingers into the cup and gently poked where her nipples recently had resided.

Her legs still smarted but the pain was fading away and a warm pulse was spreading through her thighs.

The bizarre situation was more frightening and confusing because it was so unexpected. She had always liked her English teacher - in fact, like most of the girls in her year, she'd fantasized about him. Her fantasies had never included pain and humiliation. They had mostly been romantic situations based on what she'd read in magazines. This was real and she was no longer sure that she even liked her teacher. She had always been a good student and had thought that Mr. Johnson liked her, but now everything seemed to have turned upside down. He'd beaten her and forced her to undress. Now she was alone and naked in his office and he was in complete control of her fate. She chided herself for letting her imagination get the better of her.

So he'd hit her. Plenty of pupils got caned didn't they? Not many of them sat in their teacher's study without their clothes on though. To be fair, it wasn't his fault that she'd gotten wet. Maybe he really was thinking of her welfare when he insisted that she strip totally. Of course there was no more to it than that. He was her teacher and, even if he was quite good looking, he was almost old enough to be her father. As if he would be interested in a sixteen-year-old girl who had next to no experience with boys let alone men.

She fretted nervously as her teacher continued to stare silently at her semi-naked legs. It was becoming more difficult to convince herself that he had no interest in her body. He shifted his gaze to where the inadequate towel barely covered her firm breasts and cleared his throat.

"I'm sorry if I hurt you Emma, but you must see that I can't allow a student to defy me."

"Yes, sir," she said sullenly.

"I don't expect you to like me much at the moment, but I'm as upset as you are about it."

Emma doubted that,, but decided to say nothing. Her thighs were still throbbing with . . . what?. . . It wasn't pain now. It was a pulsing warm glow that made her think about Mike her boyfriend for some reason.

"If you're wondering why I kept you behind Emma, it's because your work has been slipping, and I want to know why."

"There's no reason, Sir. I didn't realize that I was behind."

The teacher got up and paced slowly around her chair.

"Is something worrying you? Boyfriend troubles perhaps?"

"I haven't got time to think about boys. My step-father says there's plenty of time for that after my exams."

"And what do you say?"

"I suppose he's right. My school work should come first."

"That's true but all work and no play sounds unhealthy to me. You're sixteen now aren't you?"

"Yes sir."

“Most girls of your age think about boys and sex all the time and I doubt whether you're any different . . . especially if you haven't got a boyfriend. No wonder your work is slipping."

"I don't think about it at all," she lied and hoped that he couldn't see her flush as she said it.

"What? When there's a dozen boys from St. Marks hanging about by the school gates every afternoon. Are you expecting me to believe that you can walk past those boys and not even think about sex for a moment?"

"It's embarrassing walking past them, sir. They call out after us and say the most obscene things."

He smiled understandingly, "I know, I have to chase them away most days. A few of them are quite persistent almost like dogs waiting for a bitch in heat."

Emma blushed to roots of her blonde hair this time. Despite the crudity of her teacher's words, she knew exactly what a bitch in heat felt like. The boy’s remarks were crude and obscene and she always pretended to ignore them but she couldn't ignore the thrill of excitement that their words ignited in her. She'd seen her teacher talking to the boys, Mike among them, and threatening to see their headmaster if they came back. His threats never stopped the hard core of the dedicated studs - ones like Mike.

"It's quite natural to think about sex at your age you know. You're an attractive young girl Emma - haven't you ever been out with a boy?"

Emma blushed at the direct question and fidgeted uneasily under her teacher's gaze. He was definitely staring at her breasts, and she was very conscious that her nipples were still hard from the cold rain. She was sure that he could see them jut out through the towel. Why was he so interested in her sex life, or lack of it, anyway? It was true, she certainly did think about boys a lot, and her lack of practical experience didn't stop her from thinking and wondering about sex - especially after her recent date with Mike. She wasn't about to admit that to her teacher though.

"I'm not really interested in boys, sir."

The teacher continued to circle her chair and Emma was forced to swivel back and forth to keep him in sight. The movement of her body made it difficult to keep the towel in position and it constantly slipped, exposing teasing glimpses of her naked torso.

He shook his head in disbelief, "Don't you like boys Emma?"

"Of course I do. I mean yes, sir. At least I suppose I do, but they don't seem to like me much."

"Why not? You've got a bright personality and you're certainly pretty enough."

Emma flushed self-consciously. She wasn't used to personal compliments from older men, especially teachers, and she wasn't sure what she should say. She decided to ignore the compliment.

"I suppose they prefer girls who let them. . . . You know . . . ."

The teacher stopped pacing and stood directly in front of the confused youngster.

"Let them what? What are you talking about?"

"Well, kissing and touching and things like that, sir."

"Your English is certainly slipping if you can't explain better than that. What do you mean by 'things like that?'"

Emma blushed with embarrassment. How could she explain the clumsy fumbling of vulgar schoolboys when she barely understood it herself? The whole subject was embarrassing and why would her teacher want to know anyway? He wasn't interested in her problems. He'd just hit her hadn't he? "I'd really rather not talk about it, sir."

His hand moved towards her face. Emma flinched, but he put his finger gently under her chin and tilted her head up till her eyes met his. She was surprised to see concern in his face.

"I'm not going to hurt you Emma. I wouldn't bother talking to you about this if I didn't care about you."

Emma felt suddenly guilty. Her step-father didn't care about her, except to touch her when her mum wasn't around. Her mum didn't care that much either or she'd never have married the perverted pig. Her teacher was the only adult who had taken an interest in her problems. Maybe he really did care about her. The trouble was that her step- father's behavior had made her suspicious of all men. Maybe her teacher was different. Maybe Jennifer had been wrong about him after all.

"It's a bit embarrassing talking to you about it, sir."

"There's no need to feel embarrassed with me Emma. Remember, I'm a teacher - I've heard it all in my time."

"Yes, sir but... well you're a man and..."

"And a man couldn't possibly understand a young girl's feelings - is that it?"

Emma nodded silently.

"I do understand how you feel, Emma - how confusing the whole business can be at times. I can also understand if you don't want to talk about it. You don't have to if you feel that you can't trust me."

"But I do, sir," Emma blurted impulsively. "I do trust you, sir."

Her teacher smiled encouragingly. "I want you to understand that nothing that you tell me will ever be repeated outside of this room."

Emma nodded.

"I can understand that boys who are too forward might worry you, especially if you don't like them kissing or touching you."

"I didn't mean that I don't like boys, sir," she said, suddenly anxious that her teacher might think that there was something wrong with her.

"I'm glad to hear it," he smiled. "What a waste of a very pretty girl that would be."

Emma blushed and felt a strange warmth trickle through her belly at her teacher's compliment.

"You must have been out with a few boys for them to find out that you aren't that sort of girl, Emma."

Emma thought back to the only boy she had been out with. The date had been a total disaster except that, whenever she thought about it now, a strange tingling feeling crept through her thighs and tummy. She felt her nipples tighten and harden as the memory crystalized in her mind.

Elyse and Jennifer had been right about Mike. He'd spent half the evening clumsily trying to get his hand inside her blouse and the other half trying to get his hand into her panties. He'd almost succeeded too - and what was worse, she had wanted him to succeed, except that each time he'd touched her, she'd been reminded of her step-father. How was she supposed to tell Mr. Johnson that? She hesitated but she knew that she didn't dare say anything about her step-father."

"How many boys have you been out with, Emma?"

Lucy squirmed uncomfortably and kept silent. She didn't want to discuss Mike with him - he'd think that she was just another bitch in heat. Besides, she hadn't even told Elyse or Jennifer yet about her date with Mike.

Her teacher persisted. "So many? Have you lost count, Emma?"

"No sir," she said, outraged at the suggestion. "Only one, sir."

"I see, and this one, he tried to touch you..."

"No, sir, I wouldn't allow that."

"I can't believe that, Emma. He must have tried, a pretty girl like you."

She blushed, "Yes, sir. He did try."

"I'm sure he did," said her teacher sympathetically. "Where did he touch you Emma?"

The sudden change in tone caught Emma by surprise. The words escaped quickly out of her mouth before she could stop them.

"On my bust, sir," she muttered, still conscious of her hardened nipples chafing against the rough towel.

"Breasts, Emma - the word is breast. I thought you liked English."

"Yes, sir I do. It's my favorite subject."

Her teacher smiled cynically.

"I wouldn't expect you to tell your English teacher that you hated English. So he touched your breast did he?"

Emma blushed crimson. Her teacher was still holding her underwear and she was sure that he was staring at her breasts while they were discussing them. Her erect nipples refused to subside. The more her teacher talked about her breasts the harder her nipples grew. She tried desperately to change the subject

"Do you think my clothes are dry yet, sir?"

"Why? Are you feeling cold?"

"Well... yes, sir, and this towel is too small. I'd really feel better with my clothes on."

He ignored her and took a bottle from the shelf and filled two glasses.

"Here drink this, it'll warm you up a bit."

Lucy looked at the glass of amber liquid suspiciously.

"What is it, sir? It's not alcoholic is it?"

"It's medicinal. Drink it up, it won't hurt you."

He handed the glass to Emma and as she reached for it the towel slipped exposing her firm breasts to his gaze. She snatched the towel back to cover herself and almost dropped the glass. She scrambled to balance the glass and pulled the towel up too far. Her teacher was treated to an unrestricted view of her slim thighs and the barely concealed swell of her sex. He smiled tolerantly as Emma blushed in confusion.

"I can see why boys have tried to touch your breasts. They aren't very big yet but they're well shaped and they look very firm."

Emma blushed more deeply. She was confused by the constant shifting of the conversation to intimate matters that were none of his business. She gulped at her drink and almost choked as the whisky burned her throat. It tasted terrible to her untutored palate but as the alcohol warmed her stomach, the glow spread like a gentle caress into her breasts and thighs.

"It’s meant to be sipped. You really are a strange child. Don't you like compliments?"

"I don't mind compliments but it feels strange from you. I mean - what you said was very personal and you are my teacher."

"I'm also a man Emma. And I'm talking as a man who thinks that you're very attractive. Firm shapely breasts, slim waist and I can't pretend that I didn't see those long legs and lovely thighs."

Emma felt the heat of blood as it rushed to her face. She also felt something else that she couldn't define. Each time he mentioned her breasts they tingled as if in response to his attention. She was flattered by the older man's attention but she felt uneasy about the way he was talking. Surely her teacher shouldn't say things like this to her.

"You really are very beautiful Emma. I just can't understand why you're ashamed of such a perfect body."

She couldn't understand why he kept talking about her body, especially as he seemed to regard her as little more than a kid. She sipped her drink and, as the fiery spirit coursed through her veins it intensified the heated sensation in her breasts and thighs. The alcohol was also making her feel more relaxed and confident. She made up her mind that she wouldn't allow her teacher to intimidate her.

"I'm not ashamed of my body, sir, I'm just not used to discussing it with my English teacher."

"Of course you're ashamed. You say bust instead of breast and you've probably got some baby word for your vagina as well."

Emma was uncomfortably aware of the growing sensation in her breasts. Her nipples stiffened and chaffed against the rough towel as her teacher taunted her. When he mentioned her vagina she felt it trigger a warm dampness between her legs.

She bit her lower lip as she tried to hide her embarrassment behind an air of defiance.

"I'm not ashamed of anything."

"Not even boys who feel your breasts?"

"It's not my fault what boys want to do to me. I've done nothing to be ashamed of."

Emma knew it was a lie. Even now, her breasts throbbed urgently with an urgent desire to be touched and she felt her face flush hot with shame. If he would just stop talking about them she could stop thinking about them and the feeling might stop. She gulped more liquor to cover her embarrassment but it only fueled the unwanted arousal. Her nipples were aching and so hard that her teacher couldn't fail to notice their excited condition.

She was surprised when he apologized in a soft voice.

"I'm sorry if I upset you. Of course you've got nothing to be ashamed of - in fact you should be proud of your body."

He smiled reassuringly and Emma forgot her embarrassment. Maybe he wasn't such an ogre after all. He did have a nice smile when he forgot about being a teacher. It was easy to see why so many of the girls had a crush on him. If she kept him sweet, he might even let her go early. She smiled back cautiously and decided that he'd like her more if she tried to be more adult.

He must have thought that she was immature and childish to be shocked by what was evidently normal adult conversation. Whatever he said, she vowed silently to be pleasant and polite to him.

"I'm sorry too, for being over sensitive," she said impulsively.

He smiled broadly, "That's all right it was my fault for badgering you."

He paused and looked directly into the youngster's wide green eyes.

"Tell me one thing though, what word do you use for your vagina?"

Her heart jolted at the sudden switch of mood and she pressed her thighs together tightly in an attempt to stem the warm moisture that seeped from her awakened vagina. She didn't want him to see that he had shocked her but more importantly, she couldn't let him see how his words were arousing her.

"If I have to talk about it, I use the same word as you," replied the youngster trying to ignore the nervous thudding of her heart.

"Say it then, don't be embarrassed about a word."

Emma hoped that he would be satisfied if she obeyed. Uncomfortably aware of the pulsing heat and moisture between her legs, she lowered her head and mumbled the word softly.

"I didn't hear that, did you say vagina, Emma?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, done. You see it's not hard is it?"

"No, sir."

Her teacher leaned back nonchalantly and smiled encouragingly at her.

"Of course vagina is Latin - sounds very medical. I'd rather use the English slang term, wouldn't you?"

Emma must have looked as confused as she felt.

"You do know the English slang term, I assume?"

"I don't know what you mean, sir."

"The correct word is “pussy”. Do you ever say pussy?"

Emma blushed scarlet at his casual use of what she considered an obscenity.

"No, sir, I couldn't."

"Nonsense! It's only a word. Half of the population has a pussy you know. I’m sure you've got one . . . haven't you?"

Emma sat in silence. She was too embarrassed to answer him. The insistent spasms of her vaginal muscles made her only too aware that she had a pussy. She was also aware of her teacher's eyes gazing at the barely concealed junction of her thighs as if he was reassuring himself that she did indeed have a pussy.

Her pulse raced as she imagined that he might be able to see through the towel. She had the irrational idea that somehow he might detect how wet she was down there. Her pulse between her thighs seemed to throb as though it was aware of the older man's attention.

"We’ll . . . have you got a cute little pussy or not Emma? You don't seem to have a tongue."

She nodded sheepishly. “Yes, sir."

"Yes, sir what?"

"Yes, sir I have."

"Of course you've got a pussy. That's what all those boys are after. As far as they're concerned, it's the most important part of your body. The sheer number of pussy’s in this school is what keeps the boys hanging around the gates. Your pussy is the most powerful magnet in the world and you can't even say the word."

"No, sir", she mumbled sheepishly.

When he put it to her like that, it seemed petty and childish to avoid using the word.

"Have you ever said pussy . . . Emma?"

She nodded again, knowing that he would never believe her if she denied it.

"To the boy who likes to touch your breasts, I suppose."

"No, sir, I've never said that to a boy."

"Did he try to touch your pussy . . . Emma?"

Her voice was a whisper, "No, sir, I wouldn't let him."

"So he did try then. Why wouldn't you let him Emma?"

"I didn't want him to. I was frightened."

"Frightened? What of?"

"I don't know. I suppose I was afraid that he'd go too far."

Her teacher smiled sympathetically as Emma drained her glass. The alcohol was starting to affect her and she was beginning to feel a little more relaxed. His smile was encouraging and she wished that she had been more truthful. She was sure that he would have understood if she had been completely honest.

Mike had gone further than she had admitted to her teacher. She'd allowed him to fondle her small breasts through the thin material of her blouse because she didn't know how to stop him. There didn't seem to be any real harm in letting him do it and she had no idea what was normal on a first date.

The young girl had been unprepared for the feelings that his clumsy caresses would arouse in her and she had returned his kisses with enthusiasm. Her breasts ached and burned under his hands with an urgency she had never known and she had not objected when Mike moved one hand onto her knee. She knew with excited apprehension what he intended to do next.

She felt a gradual pulse build between her thighs until she was throbbing with anticipation. Mike started to slide his hand up inside her short skirt and she was suddenly damp with a lewd expectation. As his hand slid up between her smooth thighs, her legs opened instinctively to allow him access.

She was burning with curiosity and desire. She wanted to feel his touch on her, but as his fingers reached the hem of her panties, she panicked and pushed his hand away.

Mike hadn't understood her confusion and she couldn't explain it. They had argued pointlessly until he had called her a “prick teaser” and left in a sulk. He still hung around the school gates with his friends but, since that day, he'd made a point of ignoring her.

The teacher got up and refilled her glass. When he went back to his chair and sat down, Lucy shifted the minuscule towel in a futile attempt to hide her thighs from his intense stare. She was painfully aware that she had allowed herself to become as aroused by her teacher's words as she had by Mike's hands.

He leaned back nonchalantly in his chair and spoke casually.

"So if you could have been sure that he wouldn't go too far, you'd have let him touch your pussy . . . wouldn’t you?"

Emma said nothing. She had no idea how to answer. The bewildered youngster was trying to work out what the conversation was about and why her teacher was talking to her like this. He repeated the question.

"Well? Would you have let him? There's nothing to be ashamed of you know."

Emma muttered, shame-faced, "I suppose so, if it didn't go any further."

Her teacher nodded, "That's right, there's no harm in it, and it would have felt good too, wouldn't it?"

Emma didn't know if it would have felt good but she had certainly wanted it at the time. She drank some more of her drink, the taste wasn't so bad now and the warm glow sent tendrils of pleasure snaking through her body that she was beginning to enjoy. She still could not understand why her teacher wanted to know so much about her? Out of all the girls in the school, why had he picked on her? He waved his empty glass with a gentle laugh.

"You'd better pass the bottle Emma . . . before you drink it all."

Emma struggled to extricate herself from the sagging armchair. As she stood, the alcohol hit and she felt a wave of dizziness. With one hand holding the bottle and the other trying to keep the towel in position she tried to keep her balance, and failed. The bottle slipped from her grasp and as she grabbed for it, she lost her grip on the towel as it fell on the floor. For a moment she stood completely exposed before her teacher's fascinated stare. Mortified with embarrassment, she scooped up the scrap of cloth and hurriedly wrapped it around her exposed body.

"You were right Emma. You have got a cute little pussy, and a very pretty one at that. It seems a shame that you can't even say the word. It's an even bigger shame that no-one has ever touched it, or do you touch it yourself?"

Emma 's green eyes flared with indignation. Her anger was barely hidden beneath her embarrassment.

"No, sir I don't."

She put the bottle on his desk and retreated to the armchair.

"Are you in love with this boy Mike?"

"No, of course not."

"But he touched your breasts and you would have let him touch your pussy. Were you very excited Emma?"

"I don't know. I suppose so."

"But you're not in love with him. Would you let anyone touch you . . . if it felt nice then?"

"I'm not a whore, if that's what you mean."

He shook his head, "I'm sure you're not Emma. I just wondered if it would feel the same if any boy touched your pussy."

"I don't know. No-one else has tried so I've never thought about it."

"Suppose . . . I touched your pussy. Do you think it would feel good?"

Emma held her breath for a panic stricken moment. How could her teacher say things like this to her? It would have been an embarrassing suggestion if she had her clothes on but for him to propose touching her there while she was naked . . . made the fantastic idea almost possible.

Despite her shock, Emma felt the pulse in her vagina turn to an insistent throbbing. The alcohol was playing strange tricks on her mind. She imagined her teacher's fingers on her heated pussy and her body was responding to the thought. She shook her head mutely, suddenly afraid of the situation. He might be her teacher but he was acting very strangely. This was a side of him that she'd never seen nor even suspected existed.

"Well . . . what do you think?"

She couldn't admit to him that not only was she imagining what it would feel like but that she was growing excited by the thought. She lied desperately.

"You're my teacher, sir, I wouldn't even think about something like that."

Maybe he was interested in her. The idea fascinated and frightened her but mostly it excited her. She still had the image in her mind of his hand between her legs moving upwards and . . . No! He was her teacher and she was only sixteen.

She tried to change the subject, "How long is my detention, sir? I really can't be too late getting home."

He stood and crossed to where she was sitting.

"You can't go home naked and your clothes aren't dry yet. Don't you enjoy my company?"

"Yes, sir, but my parents will be worried if I'm late."

"Do you want to phone them and let them know where you are?"

"What will I tell them? I can’t say that I'm in detention, my step- father would go wild."

"Just tell them the truth, that I'm giving you extra help. In fact, it might sound better if you say that it was your idea. I'll talk to them first, if you like, so that they know it's true."

He pushed the telephone across the desk and got up to stand beside her. Emma tried to reach for the telephone and the towel slipped again. For a moment she was in a dilemma whether to drop the phone or let the towel fall. Her teacher caught the corner of the towel and held it against her shoulder. His fingertips accidentally grazed the side of her breast.

Emma trembled with the thought that it may not have been an accident at all. Her breast burned hotly where he had touched her and she suppressed a sudden urge to lean forward and press herself against his hand. Her teacher appeared not to notice the brief caress or the effect that it had on her.

"You'd better dial then, we haven't got all night, unless you can think of a very good excuse for your parents."

He laughed to let her know that it was a joke but Emma was no longer sure. She was acutely conscious of the tingling in her erect nipples and her fingers trembled as she dialed the number. Her teacher quickly explained the situation to her step-father and then handed the phone back to Emma.

She began to speak but, to her horror, her teacher suddenly let go of the towel. The scrap of cloth fell from her shoulder and, with both hands occupied, she was helpless to prevent it from slipping down to her lap. Relieved that he was behind her, and unable to see the stimulated condition of her nipples, she tried without success to juggle the towel back into place.

Her teacher murmured an apology and reached over her shoulder to recover the towel. This time there was no mistake. As he reached for the towel, his hand brushed deliberately over her naked breast. She was unable to suppress a gasp as the friction of his hand on her nipple sent a shudder of excitement through her body. She struggled to keep her voice normal as she spoke to her step-father but she knew that her teacher must be aware of the effect that his touch had on her.

She was acutely conscious of the pressure of his hands holding the towel in place on her naked shoulders. Emma felt his fingers move so imperceptibly that she couldn't be sure if she had imagined it. Then the fractional movement increased slightly until there was no doubt that her teacher was gently stroking the smooth skin of her upper arms.

Unable to protest with her step-father listening on the phone, she was forced to sit helplessly as her unscrupulous teacher took advantage of the situation. His hands moved softly on her shoulders, leaving an electric thrill in their path. The insidious caress was both soothing and stimulating and she gradually began to relax and enjoy the sensual massage, after all it was only her shoulders, there was no harm in that.

She caught her breath as his roving fingers widened their circle and slid slowly down her trembling arms. Then his hands deliberately brushed across her breasts and the youngster's heart pounded wildly as her already rigid nipples responded instantly to the gentle friction. His fingers grazed back and forth with a feather soft touch that made her nipples ache and pound with desire for more. Emma could hardly believe it was happening.

The alcohol haze and the urgent erotic pulsing of her breasts made the situation feel like a strange dream. Her step-father was in no hurry to end the conversation and her teacher was making the most of the situation.

The tantalizingly gentle stimulation was driving the young girl to distraction when suddenly both tormenting hands closed over her firm breasts. She gasped out loud at the intensity of feeling that exploded through her body. She was suddenly frightened of her own body's lack of control. She didn't want this to happen.

She desperately wanted to tell her step-father what her teacher was doing to her. She wanted to beg him to come and get her but she was terrified of his reaction. She knew that he would blame her for the situation. Every time her step-father touched her he said that it was her own fault for flaunting her body. He'd want to know what she was doing in her teacher's study without her clothes on and Emma wasn't sure how that had happened anyway.

Her teacher was not content to simply hold her, his hands stroked and squeezed and gently massaged the youngster's breasts until they throbbed with an intensity that she had never experienced before. The aching pulse was building and spreading through her trembling body. Sparks of fire ignited in her vagina and Emma felt hot wetness flood her bare thighs. Her step-father's voice was a dim blur as she fought to keep her breath steady. She was sure that her lungs would burst, when her teacher suddenly released her.

Her relief was short-lived as his invading hands glided smoothly down her ribcage to her slim waist. Emma tried to squirm away from his unwanted touch as she struggled to keep her voice normal. Her stomach muscles spasmed and she suppressed a gasp as her teacher's trailing fingertips stroked her silken belly and then moved down to her lap. He plucked the towel away and, threw it to one side as he moved round and knelt in front of her. He lowered his head and kissed each trembling knee softly.

Emma 's voice shook as she spoke to her step-father. He was chatting about nothing in particular and the terrified youngster tried to answer normally as her teacher's lips moved from her knees to kiss her thighs.

She finally managed to blurt out a weak excuse and hung up the phone but her teacher hadn't finished.

He gazed steadily into her eyes as he placed a hand on the inside of each of her knees and firmly pried her legs apart. His eyes dropped to take in the sight of Emma 's exposed pussy and he slid his hands along her soft inner thighs. The shock of his action cut through the dreamy haze of alcohol and the erotic trance evaporated.

"Please stop sir! You can't do this? You're my teacher."

"I told you that I'd teach you not to be ashamed of your body. Do you think you could say “pussy” now?" Emma ignored the question.

"You won't get away with this. I'll report you.

"I don't think so, it would be your word against mine and I just heard you tell your step-father that the extra help was your idea. I'd just say that you were trying to get revenge for your low marks in class."

"You can't do that, it’s a lie."

The teacher laughed scornfully and his fingers twitched a fraction closer to the frightened youngster's open pussy lips.

"Well if it's tell the truth time, tell me that you weren't excited when I touched your breasts."

Emma blushed scarlet and hesitated. The lie hung on her lips but she knew that her teacher had seen her excitement and felt the hard peaks of her aroused nipples. If he touched her between her legs he would know that it was wet with excitement. Panic rushed over her at the thought but at the same time her innocent pussy dilated and pulsed with the knowledge that his fingers were almost there already.

"It doesn't mean that I wanted it . . . just because you touched me. It's an automatic reaction that happens to everyone."

"But you liked it didn't you?".

"It makes no difference, I'm only sixteen and you are taking advantage of me. I want my clothes back now . . . so that I can go home."

"Your detention isn't over yet. It's not over till I say so. Now, would it feel good if I touched your pussy Emma?"

"This isn't a detention. You only kept me behind so that you could touch my naked body."

"I'm trying to help you but I think I'm wasting my time. The only thanks I've had are threats and accusations."

"Surely you don't expect me to thank you for feeling up my body.”

"Emma . . .the lesson starts here. First you will speak respectfully to me, I am your teacher. Second, you will stop making silly threats, because even if anyone believed you, your reputation would still be ruined. You would be branded a young whore who teased your teacher."

She realized that what he said was true. She could never hold her head up again if anyone knew what happened. She knew that even if she won, she would be the loser in a contest with him. The only thing she could do was appeal to his better nature.

She whispered timidly, "I'm frightened, please stop doing this to me and let me have my clothes back?"

"Not yet. I haven't finished with you yet"

"What do you mean by that?"

He placed his hands back on her bare legs and slid them almost to the top. His fingertips stopped an inch short of her naked vagina and the helpless youngster shivered as he softly stroked the sensitive skin of her inner thighs.

"I mean that I haven't finished with you. There's lots to do before you go home."

His fingers edged a fraction nearer to the heated junction of the young schoolgirl's thighs and she suddenly knew with a cold dread that her teacher was not going to be satisfied with just touching her. She was at his mercy. He could do whatever he wanted, and it was very clear what he wanted.

She wondered briefly what it would feel like to have her teacher touch there between her legs. The thought sent a tingle of anticipation rippling through her young body and fresh moisture seeped from her pussy. It glistened unmistakably and she knew that her teacher could not fail to see the signs of her arousal.

She panted fiercely and her heart pounded with excitement.

"I promise I won't tell anyone . . . if you stop."

Her teacher tore his gaze from the open lips of her vagina and stared coolly into the youngster's eyes.

"If I stop what? Just say what you don't want me to do?"

"I don't want you to do anything. I don't want you to touch me."

Her teacher shook his head and his fingers twitched as if they were impatient to reach their target.

"You have to say it Emma. Tell me not to touch your pussy and I won't."

Emma lips trembled and her voice shook as she tried to speak.

"Please don't touch my. . my. . ." Her throat refused to work. "It's no good, I can't say it."

He shook his head and his fingers twitched as if they were impatient to reach their target. He shook his head in wonder.

"Sixteen years old and you've got the prettiest little pussy I've ever seen."

Time stopped for a brief moment before she felt his hands move. When his fingertips met the plump moist lips of her open vagina, she cried out in astonishment as a quick sensational jolt shot through her nerve endings. He cupped and squeezed the slight swell of her vaginal mound gently. The pressure sent an electric thrill of unbidden pleasure through the youngster's body. Then his fingers stroked along the tight cleft of her open sex and discovered her wetness. The teacher stared into her shocked wide open eyes and smiled gently.

"Pussy, Emma. It's your pussy and it's nothing to be ashamed of. It is an excited little pussy though. Did I do that?"

He slid his finger slowly back and forth between her slippery vaginal lips as if to prove the point. A wave of pleasure rippled up to her trembling belly and spread through her body in a hot surge of urgency. Emma bit her lip to stem a gasp of pleasure. His fingers slipped smoothly along her wet pussy lips and Emma yelped with surprised pleasure.

"Oohh . . . S-s-ir. . . . Oooh."

He teased her slippery slit with slow gentle strokes that wore down the helpless youngster's resistance until she heard herself groan softly with every wave of unstoppable pleasure. There was only one thing that would make him stop and she had to do it before she lost control and started begging him not to stop.

"Please, sir, don't touch my . . . my pussy."

"Too late Emma . . . I'm already touching it, and it's so wet, you can't deny that you're loving it."

"But you have to stop - I said it. I said don't touch my pussy."

"Tell me you don't like it. Say you hate me touching your sweet little pussy."

"Uhhh! I hate you touching my pussy. I hate. . . Aahhh!"

"I don't believe you Emma. I think that you're enjoying it. Are you sure you don't want me to do this?"

He found her clitoris and concentrated his attention on the rigid little bud of sensitive flesh. Emma cried out reflexively at the exquisite sensation.

"Maybe I'm wrong. Perhaps I should stop after all," he taunted.

Emma shook her head again but now. as fresh waves of ecstasy ripped through her nerves. She hadn't wanted this but now she didn't want the amazing new feeling ever to end and her teacher knew it. As if to emphasize his victory, he withdrew his hand and watched her writhe in frustration.

The young girl was too ashamed to say the words that would encourage him to start again but her wide green eyes pleaded silently with him. He smiled in triumph as if he could read her thoughts and slowly pressed a tormenting finger into the hot well of her pussy entrance.

"Oohh ! Ooohhh !. . . Nno-oohh!"

His finger never quite entered her vagina but each time it slipped across and round the tiny entrance it drew a moan of expectation from her. When he returned his attention to the small bud of her clitoris and teased it gently, the defenseless youngster couldn't suppress the sigh of pleasure that escaped her lips. Her slender hips shuddered and bucked as her teacher's fingers manipulated her slippery clitoris and she knew that it was already too late.

"Shall I stop Emma?"

"No. . Uhhhh! Please, don't stop"

"Say it then Emma. Say please don't stop touching my pussy."

"Please don't stop. Don't stop touching my pussy."

"You really are like a bitch in heat aren't you?"

His finger paused for the briefest moment, and she moaned her disappointment.

"Please don't stop, sir."

"Aren't you Emma?"

Her hips threshed wildly seeking his hand.

"Yes, sir, I'm like a bitch in heat," she panted.

Her teacher grinned triumphantly, and gave her clitoris the lightest of caresses.

"Why do you think bitches get all hot . . . Emma?"

"I- I don't know," she murmured, unable to think of anything but what he was doing to her and that she couldn't endure it if he stopped what he was doing again.

"It's because they're ready to mate - They want to be fucked don't they Emma?"

"I. . Unghhh. . . yes, sir."

"Of course they do, and you're a bitch in heat aren't you Emma?"

She nodded soundlessly in agreement and then she heard the rasp of his zipper.

". . and you want to be fucked don't you?"

Emma's eyes snapped open and she stared at him wide eyed as he tugged, one handed at his belt buckle. Surely not that. He couldn't be serious. . . could he? She watched numb with fear as he unbuckled his belt and let his trousers fall. The young school girl stared in awe at his rigid penis as it sprang free from his pants.

In her excited state, she tried to imagine how it would feel. How big was he? Would it hurt? Would she like it?

She shook her head violently. "No - no you can't. I don't want that."

"You didn't want me to do this." His finger slid more rapidly over her.

"But you couldn't tell me not to until it was too late."

"But I said it"

"But you don't want me to stop, so you didn't mean it did you?"

His finger slid a half inch inside her and she squealed with pleasure.

"No-o, sir."

"So how can I believe you don't want me to fuck you?"

"I don't want that," she panted.

"Tell me then Emma. You managed to say “pussy” so, how about fuck? Can you say that?"

Emma shook her head. "No I can't and I won't," she gasped.

"So how will you ask me not to fuck you then?"

"What!!" Emma 's mind formed the words and her mouth opened but his fingers suddenly increased their activity on her sensitive clitoris and the words came out as a groan. Her hips joined the rhythm as she felt something building that she knew was an orgasm even though she had never experienced one before. Her fingers opened and closed clutching at thin air as the feeling grew. She moaned desperately as she tried to reach the climax that her body desired.

The young girl opened her legs wide and thrust her pelvis upwards to press her fevered pussy harder onto his hand. She wriggled her hips in an effort to maneuver his fingers inside her dripping pussy. She knew that she wouldn't stop him now if he did try to fuck her. She would open her legs for him and let him into her virgin body if that was what he wanted. If she'd been able to talk she'd have begged him to fuck her but all she could do was thrust her young hips upwards in a desperate invitation to him to do whatever he wanted with her.

Without breaking the rhythm of his tormenting hand, her teacher moved closer until he was standing over her. He watched the young girl's pretty face as, eyes tightly closed, she strained for her climax. He bent over her and kissed each nipple lightly as his fingers moved steadily in her dripping slit.

She reached up for him, for something to hold onto as the final wave of her climax approached. Her clutching fingers brushed against his open trousers and she felt the swollen hardness inside. The youngster's hand slid blindly into the opening and closed instinctively on her teacher's erect penis as she squealed with anticipation. Her back arched and she squeezed hard on her teacher's erection as she gave a final shudder and climaxed with a soft sigh.

"Ohhhh. . . Sssi-ir. . ."

Emma relaxed and waited for him to take her in his arms. The sixteen-year-old was surprised when he knelt in front of her and gently placed his hands on her knees. He smiled reassuringly at her as he pushed her trembling legs apart.

Her teacher stared directly into her eyes as he slid his zipper down with a slow deliberate motion, leaving her in no doubt that this time he intended to finish what he had started.

Her slender body shook with fear and anticipation as he slipped his hands under her knees and drew her slowly towards him. His swollen cock nudged the sensitive softness of her inner thighs as she slipped inexorably over the worn leather surface of the chair towards him.

She nervously clenched her hands into small tight fists as his throbbing cock nuzzled its heated path between her open thighs. Her breath caught in her throat and she whimpered softly, catching her lower lip between her small white teeth as the rigid organ moved slowly up between her shaking legs.

Unable to breath, she felt the pulsing heat of her teacher's cock approach her open, defenseless pussy. Then her breath escaped in an explosive gasp as she felt the lightest touch of hot flesh against her moist slit.

Her teacher tauntingly slid the slippery end of his engorged penis along her open cleft, teasing back and forth from her sensitive clitoris to barely touching her virginal opening. Lucy moaned in frustration as the sensations within her innocent young body built to even higher peaks with each lewd caress. Suddenly she wanted him inside her with a fierce longing that contradicted all of her rational thoughts.

Despite her desperate yearning for fulfilment, she froze in sudden panic when her teacher suddenly pushed the bulbous end of his swollen cock against the tiny entrance to her pussy. She whimpered in fear as the pressure on her reluctant opening gradually increased.

She felt the hard length of him seeking the entrance to her pussy - felt it pressing against the resistance of her virginal opening. He increased the pressure as he tried to enter her.

She was small and tight but he'd made her so wet and slippery that, when he flexed his hips and pushed, the pressure released with a faint pop as he slowly eased into her. She felt the bulbous tip of his penis slip easily inside her velvet soft vaginal passage. The youngster felt herself stretching to accommodate his hardness. It was mildly uncomfortable for a moment until her muscles adjusted, then the waves of pleasure returned and rocked through her slim body.

He fucked her gently without penetrating her fully until she was gasping with pleasure then he began to increase the depth of his thrusts until the swollen head of his rigid cock was embedded within her young body. She held her breath each time her tiny pussy took more of him in and still he wanted to possess more of her.

His cock advanced inch by inch, filling and stretching her young cunt and sending pulses of pleasure rocketing through every nerve in her body. With a sudden final thrust his massive erection filled and stretched her tiny cunt until he was fully inside her. He'd penetrated her fully now and she felt the thickness of his cock fill her completely. She whimpered softly as her body adjusted to the massive invasion and he paused to give her time to recover. She could feel his pulse inside her belly as his cock throbbed in eager readiness and as his lips brushed hers he whispered softly to her.

"You have the sweetest tightest little pussy, Emma”.

She sensed a change, as his cock seemed to swell and his breath grew more rapid. He was panting now and his thrusts had an increased urgency. She realized that he was about to come. She waited with passive acceptance for him to finish. He groaned her name as if he was in pain and he thrust twice more into the depths of her body before she felt the scalding rush of his sperm as it filled her womb. He continued to pump his seed deep inside her. With a final gasping moan, her teacher spent the last of his sperm into his innocent student. Emma felt surprisingly satisfied as he withdrew his shrinking organ.

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