Chloe Cunt was in trouble again at school and this time it was serious. In frustration the petite school teacher had inexplicably lashed out at one of her third formers and now she stood before the headmaster like one of those misbehaving tykes. Mr Handsome looked exasperated. "If there's one thing you can't do these days Miss Cunt, it's striking the pupils," he sighed, as if she needed reminding.
Chloe stood shamefaced, her career in tatters, her life an abject mess. Mumbled apologies went unheeded. "Come closer, Miss Cunt."
Chloe shuffled forward. She stood face to face with Mr Handsome, even though he remained seated. A towering presence in the mould of a 1950's master, he was still able to recall fondly the days when corporal punishment was encouraged. Nowadays, however, there was no excuse. Chloe knew it too, her lapse unforgivable. "It's a shame for you're a good teacher, popular with the students and the teachers.
The words cut like a scalpel. "Is there anything I can do?" she pleaded.
She knew of course that the moment the snotty nosed brat she'd backhanded squealed to his parents she was finished, but she had to cling to something. "Is there anything YOU can do, Mr Handsome?" she appealed with doe eyes.
"Oh I think it's too late for that, don't you, Miss Cunt?"
Chloe's eyes filled with tears. "There must be something you can do to help me."
The wily old headmaster rubbed at his chin. "You want me to pull a few strings to get you off the hook, Miss Cunt?"
He seemed to be coming round to her way of thinking, assisted no doubt by Chloe's pretty persuasion. She had been able to twist men around her little finger from an early age. It was a blonde thing. Chloe nodded enthusiastically as he proceeded to lecture her on how he kept a tight ship at the school, how he couldn't tolerate teachers taking the law into their own hands...blah, blah, blah...
Chloe felt like she was drowning in a sea of words, not really hearing and only rousing when the tirade ended. "Sorry?" she queried, thinking she must have heard incorrectly.
"I said come and bend yourself over my knee, Miss Cunt."
Chloe's eyed bulged. He had said those words. It was unthinkable yet she found herself obeying. Mr Handsome's lap was firm, ably supporting her belly, her toes stretched for support on the wooden floor, palms flat the other side. She could feel the old man's eyes boring into her body, surveying each aesthetic curve. A tiny whimper slipped from her pursed lips as she waited in anticipation.
A huge hand took hold of her thigh, sliding the tiny skirt up over the peachiest butt imaginable. Chloe shivered all over, breath held tight. Sure thumbs hooked inside the waistbands of her panties, shifting them down to rest on the backs of her knees. As she awaited her fate, Chloe wondered how many other girls had been in this position before, back in the days when such things were allowable – or more recently perhaps. Maybe this was what the old pervert had wanted all along.
She gasped as the warm air of the study brushed over the moistness of her pussy. "You know what happens to naughty little girls," mused Mr Handsome.
Though it was a rhetorical question, Chloe felt compelled to answer. "Yes Sir, they get punished Sir."
She flinched as the headmaster's warm hands reached beneath to her flat stomach, elevating so that the sweet young arse plumped up. Chloe held her breath in growing anticipation, a tingle deep in her loins.
SPANK! SPANK! SPANK!
"Ow-eeeeeee," she cried, biting her bottom lip. "Ow, ow, ow."
She could picture the satisfaction on the old man's face. And feel it on hers too. For in spite of the numb discomfort in the rose-blushed cheeks, the overwhelming feeling was one of arousal. It was so intense her pussy had leaked a sticky deposit on the headmaster's grey slacks...