The Girls of St Catherine's

The Headmaster Ritual (2)

Friday, 24 May

Portia hunted through her drawers frantically.

"Hey, have either of you taken any of my clothes?" she snapped, addressing the other two girls in her dorm. Tara and Lizzy both shook their heads as they got dressed.

"Why, what's wrong?" Tara asked, a concerned look clouding her pretty face as she brushed her hair.

"I don't seem to have any white underwear. I was sure I had loads left," Portia said, feeling herself starting to panic as she searched through her drawers.

"Don't worry about it, just put something else on, who's going to know?" Lizzy said, as she buttoned her blouse.

Portia continued to mutter angrily as the other girls finished dressing and went down to breakfast. Finally, she conceded defeat, and instead started looking for something similar to the regulation white cotton bra and knickers. There was nothing similar at all; no ivory or cream or even yellow. It was as if they had all disappeared into thin air.

She stood, hands on hips and considered her options. Maybe it didn't matter; after all it wasn't as if anyone was going to see. In the end, she figured she might as well wear her favourites, a rather sexy red bra with matching panties that her ex-boyfriend had given her last Valentine's Day.

"Maybe Lizzy was right, who's going to know?" she thought to herself as she ran down the corridor hoping to catch up with her friends at the breakfast table.

----

Wicklow was surprised to find Sadie waiting outside his classroom. She was normally one of the last to arrive but she looked up at him expectantly as he unlocked the door.

"Good morning Sadie," he said. "You're early, is there something wrong?"

"Well I know it's not right to snitch on a fellow student but what if I knew someone was violating the uniform code? Should I inform one of the teachers?"

Wicklow smiled as he opened the door and she followed him inside.

"Well I suppose if one of the girls isn't obeying the rules, it isn't fair on the rest of you. Who are we talking about here?"

"Well I really shouldn't say..." she said, coyly.

"Come on girl, don't play games. I know you. You wouldn't have said anything if you weren't serious about telling me. Who is it?"

"Well just between you and me, it's Portia, Sir."

"Portia?" he repeated looking surprised. "I saw her earlier at breakfast. I didn't notice anything odd."

"She may seem to be properly dressed on the surface but she's not fully compliant Sir, if you get my meaning," Sadie said, tapping her nose.

"Not fully compliant? Oh, I see! Portia, hmm?" Wicklow said. "Well I shall have to have a word with Portia. Thanks for letting me know. If you're right you can expect some, shall we say, sympathetic marking on your next assignment."

----

At the end of class, Wicklow sat on the edge of his desk and watched as the girls filed past.

"Can you spare me a minute, Portia?" Wicklow asked.

"Yes Sir, what is it?"

"I wonder if I could have a word with you in private," he said, in a tone that suggested it was more an order than a question.

Portia felt her heart thump as she followed Wicklow upstairs to his study.

"What's this about Sir?" she asked nervously as he opened the door and stood aside, motioning for her to enter.

"Well Portia, I think you understand the importance we place on discipline here. And I'm sure you understand that means every girl following the school rules to the letter," he said, following her in and locking the door behind them.

"Yes Sir," she said anxiously, still wondering what was going on.

"Especially the rules regarding school uniform," he continued.

In the time it took him to walk from the door to his desk, she realised what had happened. It was the oldest trick in the book. Someone had set her up; they'd hidden her underwear and snitched on her to Wicklow, who had a notorious reputation for punishment amongst the girls. Only last night, Tara had explained in explicit detail what she'd been forced to do to get a decent grade from him.

"So is there anything you'd like to tell me?" he said, leaning against his desk.

He crossed his arms and looked her up and down. She was an attractive girl in a dark, dangerous sort of way with prominent cheekbones, smoky dark grey eyes and black hair scraped back into a neat ponytail. The school gossip was that she'd been involved with Professor Carter, and he could see why Geoff had been tempted.

Portia felt him mentally undressing her; his eyes crawled up over neat black shoes, her white knee socks, her creamy thighs disappearing beneath her smart green and grey-checked skirt. Although it was knee-length, it felt a lot shorter under his intense gaze.

"I'm really not sure what you mean Sir," she replied innocently as she tugged the hem down over her knees.

"Then let me be crystal clear, girl. A little bird has told me that you're violating the uniform code. I assume you're aware that the rules specify you must only wear plain white cotton underwear."

Portia's heart sank to her patent leather shoes. Clearly, he knew. Maybe her best strategy would be to come clean. Perhaps they could come to some kind of arrangement, like she'd had with Professor Carter.

"I ran out of white bra's Sir, so I had to put something else on this morning. Sorry Sir, I didn't think it was that important."

"Not important? We have very high standards here girl. Everything's important, you can't decide which rules to follow and which to ignore."

"Yes Sir. I'm sorry Sir."

"Hmm," Wicklow said, "well as a teacher it would be negligent of me not to check. So let's see shall we?"

"Sorry Sir?"

"Come on; don't play the innocent with me. You know very well that I have the right to inspect anyone I don't think is complying with the code."

"You want me to undress here in your room?"

"Well yes, unless you want to strip outside in the corridor."

"But Sir, I can't undress here, it's not right."

"Come along girl, unbutton that blouse. Or do you want me to take this to the headmaster? We can go to his office if you like and you can undress there in front of both of us. Perhaps we could invite some of the other teachers too, hmm?"

Reluctantly, Portia began to unbutton her blouse. She took her time, her mind frantically trying to think of a way out.

"Come along girl, quickly," Wicklow said impatiently. He watched closely as she slowly fumbled with the last few buttons.

He grabbed her wrist and pulled her towards him.

"Now let's see what you wearing under there," he growled, tugging her blouse open and exposing a lacy scarlet half-cup bra clinging to her gorgeously pert breasts. A thin silver necklace with a small cross pendant bisected the cups.

Portia crossed her arms across her chest modestly.

"I really will lose my temper with you in a moment," he growled tugging her arms down to her sides, "now put your hands behind your back and keep them there."

Reluctantly, Portia obeyed him, feeling her face flush red as Wicklow's eyes devoured her semi-naked boobs.

"Well that's not a plain white cotton bra is it girl?" he said, his voice thick with both excitement and triumph.

"No Sir, sorry Sir," Portia mumbled.

Her boobs weren't overly big but they were nicely shaped and Wicklow couldn't resist sliding a hand up over the warm, smooth skin of her stomach.

"What are you doing Sir?" Portia gasped, feeling her heart flutter as he slid his hand over ribcage but it felt like her feet were glued to the floor. She watched helplessly as he cupped her right breast in his large hand.

"This bra's so skimpy you might as well have not worn it at all," he muttered, gently squeezing her warm flesh.

The material was thin and semi-transparent with little flowers sewn into the crimson lace, hardly the kind of bra a schoolgirl should be wearing even if she was nineteen. He could see the faint shadow of her nipple under the thin material and couldn't resist running his thumb over the dimpled surface.

"Please Sir, don't!" Portia mewed as he fondled her. He gently teased her nipples through the thin lace, creating little electric shocks of pleasure. Portia felt her body responding, her nipples hardening and she felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment.

"I hope you're not telling me what to do," he growled, cupping one of her boobs whilst flicking his thumb over her swelling nipple.

"Please Sir, it tickles," she whined.

"Well perhaps if you'd worn a proper school uniform bra it wouldn't 'tickle' quite so much," he said, smiling wickedly as he felt her young body responding to him.

Portia closed her eyes as Wicklow's eager hands fondled her. She hadn't been touched by a man since before the start of term. Even then, it had only been a drunken fumble at a Christmas party and now she could feel her body betraying her, surrendering to the delicious feelings caused by his experienced fingers.

She shuddered, feeling a sudden warm surge of pleasure, her legs a bit shaky now as she felt him continue to flick his thumb over her hard little nipples. The bastard was obviously enjoying himself. He took his time, sometimes stroking the slope of her boobs, sometimes cupping and squeezing them in his firm hands. Portia felt her breath coming in short gasps, her boobs swelling against the tight cups of her bra.

"Please Sir, don't," she complained as he slid the thin straps from her shoulders and gently but firmly slipped the cups over her boobs. She had small, boyish boobs that sat high on her ribcage, tilted upwards and tipped with stubby pink nipples.

"Quiet, girl," he grunted, ignoring her protests, his eyes feasting on her naked flesh.

She couldn't suppress a small whimper of pleasure as she felt his warm hands caressing her bare skin without the flimsy barrier of her brassiere. Her nipples were rock hard now; tight little bundles of almost painfully sensitive nerve endings. He smiled as he clamped his thumb and forefinger around one of them, pulling and twisting it till he extracted a little yelp of pain from her.

Portia had to bite her lip to stop herself moaning even louder as he toyed with her swollen, ultra-sensitive nipples till she shivered with repressed desire.

He leaned back and eyed her hungrily, like a cat watching a mouse.

"Now then perhaps we ought to check your knickers as well, hmm?" he said.

"What? No Sir, please don't make me!" she mewed.

"Come along girl, I need to see just how many rules you've broken before I decide on your punishment. Now lift your skirt and be quick about it."

Wicklow leant back against the desk enjoying the girl's obvious discomfort as she reluctantly inched her checked skirt over her creamy thighs revealing matching red panties stretched tightly over the gentle swell of her pubis. They weren't much more than a thong, a small crimson triangle held in place with thin strips cut high over her hips.

"Higher!" he insisted, making her lift the skirt all the way up till it was just a rumpled band of crumpled material around her stomach. Portia felt another hot flush of embarrassment as he stared at her barely covered pussy but also a sense of shameful excitement as she noticed the bulge forming in his grey flannel trousers.

"Well now girl. This isn't standard uniform either, is it?" he said as he reached out and ran a finger up over her thighs.

"I'm really sorry Sir, I'll go and change into proper underwear, okay?" she offered, crossing her legs and squeezing her thighs together as she watched him run a finger over her pale skin.

"Yes, you certainly will, but not before you've been punished."

"Please Sir, don't," she moaned as Wicklow toyed with her, his stubby fingers tracing little circles on the inside of her thighs.

"Hold still girl, I need to see if this material is just as woefully inadequate as your bra," he insisted as his fingers slipped higher.

Wicklow stared into her large, dark eyes as he slid his hand along the inside of her thighs, gently stroking the silky skin, working higher till his fingers brushed against the lace of her panties. Portia felt her knees turn to jelly, wobbling a little as his teasing fingers slowly stroked back and forth, exploring her increasingly moist lips beneath the thin lace.

"Hold still girl," he barked, "and spread your legs wider so I can examine these so-called knickers properly."

The stern tone of his voice made her jump and instinctively Portia felt unable to disobey a senior teacher. She shuffled her feet apart and soon felt his tormenting fingers sliding between her trembling thighs, running along the full length of her slit, tracing the damp contours of her pussy.

"Please Sir, this isn't right," Portia panted, feeling her juices seeping into the thin lace.

Up and down, up and down he stroked, pressing a little firmer now. Despite herself, she could feel her wet swollen lips opening up to him like an exotic flower unfurling. She shuffled her feet apart encouraging him to explore deeper.

"Do you know what men think when they see a girl wearing underwear like this?" he asked, exploring the textured dampness of her knickers; his fingers probing her juicy folds beneath.

"No Sir, please," she moaned, squirming as he stroked her warm thighs.

"Oh I think you do. They think, she's asking for it. Hmm? They think that young lady needs a good seeing to. That's what you want, isn't it?"

"No Sir! I don't know what you mean Sir," she replied breathlessly.

"Don't lie to me girl! I can feel how wet you are already," he teased and Portia groaned as he continued to explore her moist cleft with one hand whilst the other slowly slid up over her skin and fondled her naked boobs.

"Such a tiny scrap of material," he said thickly. "I think we both know what kind of girl wears knickers like this."

"Oh Sir," she moaned as his fingers firmly squeezed then cruelly twisted her achingly sensitive bud as her body trembled with arousal, her legs wobbling.

"Oh yes," he teased, "these knickers don't conform at all, I think I'll have to confiscate them."

He smiled at her devilishly as he continued to flick and tweak her nipples with one hand whilst his other stroked her pussy through her wet clingy panties. He slid a finger beneath the edge of her skimpy knickers, lightly stroking the succulent, naked folds beneath.

"Please Sir," she sobbed urgently as her legs threatened to give way. "Please, I can't take much more."

"Right girl, high time for your punishment," Wicklow said decisively, grabbing her arm and pushing her over the desk. Her legs had turned to jelly and she clung to the desk tightly, like a lifeboat in a stormy sea.

"No please Sir!" Portia cried, feeling her hamstrings stretch as he forced her over the desk, his hand firmly pushing against her back. She felt her nipples stiffen as they pressed against the cold, polished wooden surface. Twisting her head she watched as Wicklow stripped off his jacket.

"Now lift your skirt," he ordered.

"No! don't make me," she pleaded, shaking her head, her glossy hair brushing the desk's surface.

"Get on with it, before I really lose my temper!" he said threateningly.

He smiled as he watched her slowly reach back and grasp the hem.

Wicklow loosened his tie, feeling his cock nearly burst his zip as he watched her slide the tartan skirt up over her deliciously plump bottom. Portia was a keen hockey player and she had lovely, toned legs. Her panties were just a thin strip of red lace disappearing between her firm, young buttocks, clinging to her slick pussy lips.

"Now then, the school rules clearly state that I can confiscate any non-conforming items of clothing," he said thickly, his voice rasping in his throat. He slid his hands over her peachy buttocks and hooked his thumbs under the thin waistband.

"No!" she squealed, instinctively reaching back to stop him and a brief tug of war ensued, her skimpy panties a thin strip of scarlet stretched tightly between their hands.

"You're only making it worse for yourself girl," he growled, swatting her hands away before easing the damp little scrap of material over her derrière. He took his time, enjoying her helpless little sobs of protest as he slowly peeled the thin material from her damp thighs till it was around her knees.

"No please!" she begged as she felt his rough hands pushing her down against the desk. Portia sobbed with embarrassment realising he'd be able to see how aroused she was.

"Now spread your legs and arch your back girl," he said, enjoying the sight of her bare pussy peeking out from between her buttocks as she inched her legs apart, her lacy knickers tightly stretched between her knees. He felt his cock press against his trousers impatiently as if magnetically drawn to her naked thighs, and he started to unfasten them to release the pressure.

"Please don't spank me too hard," she pleaded, feeling the cool air against her moist thighs.

He laughed callously as he ran his rough hands over the smooth, flawless skin of her bottom.

"Spanking? Oh I didn't say anything about spanking you, girl," he sneered as he unzipped his flies.

"You're not going to...oh no Sir!" Portia gasped, suddenly realising what kind of punishment he had in mind.

She felt she ought to protest, though in truth she was very horny now and desperate for him to finish what he'd started. She twisted around in time to watch him tug his sturdy cock from his trousers. He was still fully dressed, looking like he'd just stepped out of the classroom. Apart, that is, from the thick, stiff cock now protruding obscenely from his smart grey suit trousers. It was big and angry-looking. He held it in one fist whilst the other pressed into the small of her back pinning her to the desk.

"I think we both know that girls as naughty as you need more than just a spanking," he growled, as he leaned over her, his lips next to her ear, his breath warm on her neck. "I think we both know what you need, girl".

"No Sir, please don't Sir, I have a boyfriend," she begged weakly, realising how pathetic it sounded as the words left her lips.

"I don't doubt that girl. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if you have several 'boyfriends'," he chuckled, making her squeal with a well-aimed slap on one of her firm, young buttocks.

Portia shuddered, her whole body wanting him now, aching for release as she felt him clutch her buttocks, spreading them apart and exposing the moist, inner folds of her pussy. She shuddered as she felt the bulbous head of his cock press firmly against her swollen lips.

Her teenage pussy was deliciously tight but she was also very wet and he was able to ease the first two inches of his fat cock into her as she groaned and gasped and shivered beneath him. He slowly pulled it out, the tip glistening with her juices before sliding it back in. God, it felt so good, pushing his stubby dick into the warm, tight, velvety wetness, pushing a little deeper each time as she sighed encouragingly.

When he was younger, Wicklow had travelled the world with the merchant navy, and had sampled most earthly pleasures but there was nothing as pleasurable, he concluded, as the embrace of the tight pussy of a nubile, young woman. He'd certainly had his share when he was younger; enthusiastic, dusky-skinned whores in Bangkok, loud black tarts in Havana and quiet, skinny white girls in Rotterdam. He'd thought that that life was over when he re-trained as a teacher but here he was, moaning happily as he clutched Portia's soft hips and smoothly eased his thick shaft into her wetness.

Beneath him, Portia slid a hand beneath her stomach and gently stroked her aching clitoris as she felt his hardness slide into her. She was desperate to cum now.

"No, please, it hurts," she gasped. And it did hurt a little but in a satisfying, fulfilling, thrilling way that made her catch her breath.