Parlour punishment

Introduction:
She came in and stood before him. Her brown hair was tied back in a pony tail with an elastic band. The top buttons of her crushed white blouse were undone and the knot of her striped tie was loose and pulled down. The blouse, open again at the bottom button, hung over a short blue pleated skirt, short enough to reveal the thicker texture at the top of her stocking, but long enough to conceal the suspenders that kept them up. She looked down at him, half smiling half, he thought, sneering.
“You sent for me, sir,” she whispered.
“Yes, Lucy. You’ve been reported to me by Miss James. She says you have been taking up an ‘unsuitable seating posture’ in her English classes. She also fears you have been taking the freedom of expression we allow in this co-ed boarding school just a little too far. What do have to say for yourself?”
“Well, sir, it gets so hot in her class sometimes that I feel I have to cool down a bit by letting more air circulate round my body,” she said, her face slowly developing a wicked smile. “I sometimes have to hunch my shoulders and lean forward in my seat so my blouse opens a bit more. I guess my tits must get on display a bit.”
“Lucy, I think when you’re talking to me it’s more appropriate to say ‘breasts’. And what else?”
“Well in the same way I have to part my legs to get more air to cool my fanny,” she explained.
“Lucy, I think you can use a more appropriate word, can’t you?” he said.
“OK, sir, to cool my cunt.”
“That’s not the word I expect you to use, Lucy. I think your punishment might have to be increased.”
She smiled at the prospect.
“And what about ‘freedom of expression’, Lucy? Miss James thinks you may be leading the boys on too much. She even thinks you may have been offering sexual favours. Is this true?”
“Well,” she smiled, “I have been sucking off some of my fellow sixth formers and letting them finger my cunt, but I only fuck with my special boy friend,” she explained.
“Lucy this is terrible. What would your parents say? A special boyfriend at this school is allowed, but you’re getting a terrible reputation for being a slut. It just won’t do.”
“Are you going to punish me, sir,” she asked, licking her lips as she did so.
“You know the answer to that, Lucy. Over my knee, please.”
AS she settled over his knee, her short skirt rose to reveal her smooth thighs above her stocking tops, not as milky white as he had expected, but a light tanned colour. As he slowly pushed the skirt higher, the tan thighs contrasted excitingly with the white cotton knickers that encased the pertest arse he had encountered for a year. He feasted his eyes on those twin orbs and felt his cock rise. He pushed the skirt higher to reveal the entire knickered arse. Slowly she moved herself further over his knee, as if reading his mind, and slowly parted her legs a little.
His cock leaped as he saw the way her knickers nestled in her arse crack, emphasising the mounds. Lower down, between her slightly parted legs, her knickers were pressed tightly against her cunt, her bulbous cunt with her knickers slightly damp where they nestled against it.
She shifted her weight a little towards him, and his aroused cock pressed hard into her hip. He raised his hand and brought it down swiftly, but not too hard, against her left arse cheek. He heard a muffled whimper or sigh. He brought his hand down again, this time on the right cheek, attracting the same response. He repeated this half-a-dozen times, his cock growing ever more hard and begin to ache with desire.
He placed his hand on Lucy’s left thigh and slowly slid it upwards. As his fingers reached the fabric of her knickers, she opened her legs wider and he was able to place his hand on her cunt, rubbing it slowly with just enough pressure to feel it begin to open. The moisture on the outside grew more obvious.
He peeled her knickers over her delightful arse and slid them over her stocking tops. He gazed at these twin orbs of perfection and swallowed hard. Her slightly opened cunt glistened before his eyes, a few brown hairs visible at the side and drifting towards him and between the crack of her arse, belying her real age. He gently skid a finger in, moved it in and out, then withdrew it, held it to his nose and inhaled the aroma.
“Do you want me to show you what I do with the sixth-form boys, sir?” she whispered, rousing him from his gaze.
“Please,” he said hoarsely.
She slid from his knee, knelt before his already naked body on the edge of the bed, took his cock in her mouth and gave him the best blow job he’d had for months.
She smiled, stood, and said, “I’ll leave you to get dressed.”
On his way out he smiled and said to her, “£20 extra wasn’t it? See you again.”
He left the massage parlour and shivered as the cold December afternoon air hit him. He’d be back.

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