Miss Henderson Is Punished

'Well, Miss Henderson, this is a most unsatisfactory state of affairs.'

I make the statement and look you deliberately up and down. Your shoes have heels at least an inch above the regulation maximum, your legs are sheathed in dark tights – or stockings? – your skirt barely comes to mid-thigh; I can see a darker band that might be stocking top. Your blouse is not tucked in at the waist, is unbuttoned to reveal some cleavage, and your bra is pushing your breasts up provocatively. I detect a hint of nipple; my penis begins to swell in my trousers and as my eyes travel over your lipsticked lips to meet yours, I notice you are staring at my crotch. Your hair is unbound and falls over your shoulders, half concealing one mascared eye.

I stand up. Your gaze follows my crotch. The pink tip of your tongue travels over your lips. You blush when you realise I know what you are looking at, and you lower your head. But I think you still peek from under your eyelashes at me as I walk towards you. My penis is hard now. Swollen. Straining in my shorts, making by trousers bulge very noticeably.

Close enough to smell your perfume, I stop in front of you.

'Most unsatisfactory,' I repeat. Stern. 'You are eighteen now, Miss Henderson and old enough to take full responsibility for your actions are you not?'

You mumble something apologetic.

'Speak up, girl. And say "Sir" when you address me.'

'Yes, Sir.' Your voice trembles slightly. I notice you are again staring at my crotch. At the bulge my stiff penis has made.

'You are inattentive. You fail to attend. You talk continually in your lessons. It will not do, Miss Henderson. You may think that you will escape with merely a sound tongue-lashing as under my predecessor. But I enforce a stricter discipline, Miss Henderson. You will be thrashed.'

'Sir?' You sound incredulous.

I snap my fingers and point to the desk.

'Follow.'

I lead you to my chair and sit down. I point to my lap. To my crotch where the outline of my rampant penis is clearly visible.

'Bend over my lap.'

You look stunned, Your eyes unable to tear themselves from my crotch.

'Every second wasted will be another stroke added, Miss Henderson.'

You give a little whimper and bend over my lap, not touching me, holding your body away. I tut and take hold of you, one hand under your breast – your very full breast – the other on an equally ample buttock, and I pull you down so your bent right across me, bottom highest, my hard cock pressed into you just above the junction of your thighs. You moan and grip my leg to hold yourself steady.

I spank you, bringing my hand down firmly on your arse, still holding your breast with the other. You give a little gasp and I feel you squeeze my leg. The next stroke is harder. The third brings a sharp 'ow!' bursting from those pouting lips. The fourth and fifth are greeted with little yelps. The sixth with a groan. And all the time my penis is boring against you relentlessly. I revel in the feel of your young body pressed hard against my cock.

Now I lift your skirt and you give a gasp of surprise, which quickly turn to little squeals of pain, increasing in volume with each of the twelve strokes I deliver. I'm hitting harder now, getting into my stride.

'Please Sir,' you say when the twelfth stroke has been delivered and I pause for breath. 'Please Sir, how many more?' Your voice is a pathetic whimper.

'As many as I think it will take.' I pull your knickers down midway to your knees, exposing your delightful little cunt that peeks prettily between your thighs.

'Oh no, Sir!' You wriggle but stop with another squeal as I clutch hard on your breast, digging my fingers deep. I notice your knickers are damp.

'Oh yes, Miss Henderson. Two dozen on the bare bottom will be a start.'

And I deliver the blows, making you count them, which you do half-gasping at the start, half sobbing by the end. Your arse is very rosy, very red. My penis is leaking pre-come copiously. While I am preparing for another set, I realise your hand has left my leg. Looking down I see you fingering your plump little cunt. You are moaning in quite a different way now to when I was thrashing you.

'Miss Henderson! I have never known such wantonness!'

You make a whimpering noise – a mix of fear and apology and rampant need.

I stand up and heave you across my desk so you are bend over it, arse and cunt exposed.

'Do not move!'

I undo my belt and withdraw it from the trouser-loops. The ache in my penis is so great that I undo my flies to ease it somewhat. My white boxer-briefs are wetter than your knickers were. The swollen head of my penis is clearly outlined in the damp cotton. I look at your cunt.

'Wanton girls are not merely spanked, Miss Henderson.'

I swing the belt like a whip, bringing the end down on the desk by your face with a crack. You jump and your yelp of fear makes my penis twitch.

'I think fifty from the belt might beat that sluttish streak from you, Miss Henderson.'

Again I whip it against the desk with relish.

'Oh god, Sir! Please no! Please!' you break down and begin to sob uncontrollably. 'Please, please anything but that. Any punishment, Sir. Anything! i'll be a good girl, I promise.'

'Anything, Miss Henderson.'

Your head is nodding frantically, the tears streaming in a great flood down your cheeks. I drop my shorts so my penis springs free, proud and upright, thick and long. I put the dripping head to the lips of your cunt.

'Anything, Miss Henderson?'

You are frozen now, utterly still. Only your snuffling sobs break the silence.

'Well, Miss Henderson.' I step back. 'There is always the belt.' And I raise it and bring it down on your still-rosy cheeks raising a livid weal and tearing a shriek from your lips.

'Oh, Sir! No, please, Sir. Please fuck me, Sir. Please fuck my cunt sir, my cunt is so tight and wet for you, Sir. Please. Or my arse, Sir. Anything! Please not the belt!'

So I enter you in one long violent stroke, driving deep into your cunt and I grip your hips. And you are indeed very tight and wet. You cry out as I penetrate you. But the cry is of pleasure as well as pain. I fuck you steadily. Long powerful strokes driving you forward on the desk, lifting your feet from the ground. I use my hands on your hips to pull you back onto me after every thrust. Only three strokes and I feel your cunt convulse. I keep thrusting forcing, fighting against the power of your orgasm. I fuck you harder as you thrash and moan and call out. Twenty more strokes and you come again. Harder. The power of your strong young cunt is incredible to feel. Such a strong, tight little cunt!'

I am close. I spank you again now as I thrust. Right cheek then left, matching the rhythm of my strokes.

'Yes, yes, yes!' you cry, as my spanking and thrusting become harder. 'Fuck me sir. Fuck my cunt. Punish it for making me such a dirty little slut!'

I come hard, the semen spurting deep into you. My growl of pleasure becomes a roar as you come again. I withdraw, pull you up roughly by your hair. Force you to your knees.

'A good girl, Miss Henderson, cleans up after herself.'I point at my penis dripping with my semen and your copious juices. At the puddle you have made on the desk. 'Put your tongue to some good use for a change.'

You look up at me, wide-eyed.

'Yes, Sir. I will be a good girl.'

And you begin lick my penis, slurping greedily.

'I think you may become a good girl, Miss Henderson. If under proper discipline.'

You nod, mouth full of my hard cock, and strive to be a very good girl.