Olivia Gets In Trouble

Everyone in this fictional story is over 18 and consenting. Play safe, people.

*****

"I don't care if she has a lift or not! I didn't invite the bitch and I don't want her at my fucking party!" The girl's voice was harsh, with an almost hysterical edge, making some of her friends outside wince in sympathy with the target of her rage.

"Come on, Olivia," offered a placatory voice. "I know she cracked on to me, but she's hammered and it's not like I didn't turn her down."

"She can fuck off!" was the screamed reply. "The little whore came onto Sophie and Beth too! I want her out of here! Now!"

Callum backed out of the bedroom, nodding. Embarrassed to have been caught eavesdropping, the other kids on the landing dispersed into bedrooms or back down the stairs as Callum frowned at them and went to the bathroom, where Emily, the target of Olivia's anger, was slumped on the floor, head over the toilet, groaning softly to herself.

In truth, if he'd have thought he could have gotten away with it, he wouldn't have rebuffed Emily's advances on him. There were plenty of rumours around the school that she was a total slut, with lots of lads claiming to have been with her and persistent, though not admitted, stories that more than a couple of the girls had been too. Scandalously, there were even tales that she'd been with two of the teachers.

Despite, or maybe because of, the rumours, he thought she was very attractive. She was petite, maybe about 5' 3", and slender, with long, straight black hair falling almost to her waist, contrasting sharply with her milky white skin. Her pretty face often seemed to have a knowing smirk on it. From what he could tell from the revealing clothes she often wore she was nicely curved, with firm looking boobs and a surprisingly full bottom for such a small girl. All in all she looked like a slutty Snow White.

Or she did normally. Now she just looked like a drunk teenager, half passed out on a bathroom floor. She'd not actually been sick - collapsing over the loo had been a precaution. But she'd shown herself up quite enough anyway. Turning up uninvited, she dressed to get all eyes on her as a sexy schoolgirl in little white blouse that showed her black bra through it, short, pleated, red plaid skirt that was barely long enough to cover her white, cotton knickers, and white knee socks. To be fair, the party was fancy dress, but none of the other girls had come as a slut.

Emily was fully aware of how pretty she was, and usually came off as arrogant and conceited because of this. She knew that boys wanted to be with her, and had propositioned Callum quite brazenly in front of Olivia after spending an hour flirting with or insulting almost everyone at the party, whilst drinking a lot of vodka. But now she knew she'd gone too far, as she was completely drunk and felt awful. Through the vodka fog she could hear Olivia shouting. If she was sober she'd have fired right back and put the little bitch in her place, but right now Emily's wit was a bit soggy.

With a physical effort, she pushed herself onto her knees and, using her hands to brace herself against the toilet bowl, tried to stand. Dragging his gaze away from her long, shapely legs, Callum helped her stand and steady herself. He correctly interpreted the noise she made as her saying she'd be leaving now, and escorted her downstairs. She stumbled and nearly fell but he grabbed her, trying to ignore his cock which twitched as he clutched her against him.

Standing up and moving shook some of the cobwebs from Emily's mind, and by the time they reached the front door she was starting to get her imperious demeanour back.

"I'm going, now," she slurred slightly. "I've had quite enough of this feeble excuse for a party. Are you sure you want to stay here with that dull cow?"

"Don't be mean, Em. Do you want a taxi?" Callum put a hand on her shoulder to steady her, but she slapped it away.

"Fuck off, then!" she snarled, annoyed at being turned down again. "No, I don't want a taxi. I don't want anything from any of you!"

With that, she hauled the door open and stalked out into the night, slamming it hard behind her.

Almost immediately she realised that maybe a dramatic tantrum had not been a great plan. Olivia's house was a mile and a half from the village, and it was dark. Whilst the the cold slightly sobered her up, it also made her shiver and she had no jacket. She glanced briefly back at the house but no way would she give them the satisfaction of going back and asking for a taxi. Hunching her shoulders against the cold, she set off walking to the village.

Fifteen minutes later, Emily was miserable. The lane was quite well lit, but rarely travelled, and as she trudged along the cold sank into her bones. Her legs were freezing - bare from the knee to the hem of her short skirt. And her flimsy blouse offered little warmth either. She'd wrapped her arms around herself as her mind cast around for a way to blame her predicament on anyone but herself. She also really needed the loo, but there was the occasional car on this road and no way was she being spotted by a local as she had a piss in a hedge! She was just about sober enough to realise that she was still very drunk, but she had her dignity.

"For fuck's sake!" Emily hissed as she looked at her phone and saw that she still had no signal. She was cold and tired and still not at the village and her head hurt and her bladder felt like a tender, bloated ball, waves of need washing over her as it throbbed with every step. Why had she not gone to the toilet at Olivia's? Why had she behaved like a bitch, probably embarrassed herself, and ended up in this situation. Unbidden, she felt tears fill her eyes, frustrated at her own stupidity, but she blinked them away. She didn't care about those people. She knew Callum wanted her, and she could tell from the way Bath had acted all horrified that there was probably fun to be had there too.

She was almost hobbling now, slightly doubled over from her need to piss. But the village was probably only five minutes away, and she could go in the pub and then she'd have coverage to call a taxi. A look of grim determination settled on her face and she pushed on, ignoring her straining bladder.

"No chance, love, not without some ID." The bouncer was huge, stoic and blocking her entry to the pub.

"Please," Emily said, hating the begging note in her voice. "I just need the loo."

"Sure you do, and then you'll sneak to the bar and get a drink. No ID, no entry." Emily stamped her foot in frustration, tears again welling in her eyes as she realised that dressing as a schoolgirl and throwing a tantrum was not the best way to get into the pub. She was so desperate now, shifting her weight from one foot to the other and pressing her thighs together. She wanted to press her palm against her pussy, but she was conscious that she was standing in the middle of town now.

Chewing on her lower lip, the need to pee painful now, she looked frantically around the small town square for somewhere to go.

"Emily?" She whirled upon hearing her voice, and was shocked to see Mr Mulhall, her history teacher, exiting the pub. "What are you doing out here at this time? And what are you wearing?"

"I was just at a party and I need to go toilet...I mean to the toilet, and this dick," she gestured at the bouncer, "won't let me in!"

Mr Mulhall steered her slightly away from the doorway. "Well, nor should he, Emily - you're not old enough to be in the pub. And have you been drinking already?" She started to shake her head but stopped when his gaze hardened. "Don't tell me lies, Emily."

Chastened and desperate, she nodded. "It was a party, sir. Everyone was drinking. And I really need the loo!" She looked up at him and he could see her desperation etched on her face.

Nodding, he said "I can see you do, but you can't go in there. My house is nearby - you can use my bathroom and then I'll call your father. Come along."

He set off without waiting for a reply, walking briskly across the square. With a last glance at the smirking bouncer, Emily struggled to keep pace with the teacher as the pain in her bladder made it hard to walk.

Greg Mulhall was tall and slim, in good shape - he occasionally covered for the PE teachers. He'd been greying at the temples since he was a young man, but he was pleased with his robust head of hair as he was nearer 50 than 40 now. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Emily hobbling after him, walking in what looked like a pantomime of someone on the verge of disgracing themselves. The thought gave him a twinge in the back of his mind, but he ignored it. He'd heard some of the rumours about Emily, of course, but he was a professional.

Rounding a corner onto his quiet, tree-lined street, Mr Mulhall was surprised to hear music, but saw his neighbours were having a late barbecue in the garden. Must be a night for parties, he reflected as Emily caught up.

"Hey Greg, want to join us?" called his neighbour. He smiled, but shook his head, pointing at Emily.

"I would, Phil, but I found one of my students in town. She's been drinking so I brought her back so I can call her parents." The partygoers laughed, observing that they'd all been young once and chatting amongst themselves.

As this conversation went on, Emily was reaching bursting point. She was trapped between the devil and the deep blue sea - she could not embarrass herself in front of these people, who already saw her as an irresponsible, drunk schoolgirl, by asking her teacher for the toilet, like a child. But, if she didn't... Her bladder was shrieking at her, aching and swollen as she tried to stand still but couldn't, legs treading on the spot as she silently prayed for the banal chat with Mr Mulhall's neighbours to end.

In the end, Emily's pride was stronger than her bladder. She felt a sudden burst of pee leak from her, soaking the gusset of her knickers, and she gasped. That was a mistake, as the sudden noise made Mr Mulhall and the dozen people in his neighbours garden all look at her at the precise moment she lost control. After waiting for so long, her piss gushed out of her in a flood, streaming into her quickly saturated knickers and splashing down her legs, rivulets of pale yellow pee running down the inside of her legs to soak into her knee socks. Emily sobbed, humiliated, as she felt the seemingly endless torrent soaking her white knickers, wetting her cunt and bottom, her legs, her socks and running into her shoes.

Everyone stood, shocked, one lady even open-mouthed, as the pretty teen wet herself in front on them. It was a captivating sight, as Emily managed to look beautiful and heartbroken whilst dressed as a slutty schoolgirl with piss dripping down her legs into a puddle between her feet. Mr Mulhall was the first to react, grabbing Emily by the forearm and marching her towards his front door.

"Sorry, everyone," he called back to the barbecue guests. "I guess he's more drunk than I realised - I'd best get her dad here to collect her." He'd unlocked his door as he said this and, pushing Emily into the hall, he pulled the door shut behind them.

Emily had finally stopped peeing, but now instead of the liquid ball of pain in her bladder, all she could feel was shame. She'd just pissed her pants in front of a dozen adults while they stood watching her. Her knickers and socks were warm, wet and soggy and she felt terrible. She wanted someone to do what her family usually did - indulge her, tell her it wasn't her fault and that she was a special princess and make everything go away. Unfortunately, Mr Mulhall knew exactly how spoiled Emily was, and he had no intention of doing any of that.

"How dare you embarrass me like that?" He sounded furious. "I live next door to these people, and you just stand there and wet yourself! Are you a toddler? They all saw you, watched you as you just pissed yourself. You are a dirty, naughty girl, Emily. I know how you behave at school and I know that your family let you get away with it. Well, you'll not wrap me around your pretty little finger, girl." He stepped toward her, looming over her imposingly. "You need discipline!"

Emily was struggling to process what was going on. She no longer felt drunk, just horribly embarrassed and wet. And scolded. She just stood, meekly accepting the dressing down in a way she never had before. She'd always been bossy and demanding and it was true, her parents spoilt her rotten. She was a bitch at school, and a slut. And she'd always been able to get away with anything. But being told off by Mr Mulhall, standing in front of him in pissy knickers as he berated her, she had no response. It felt...proper? Her brain had picked up the word 'pretty' as that usually let her know she was in charge, but it was the last word he said that lodged in her awareness - discipline? It prompted her to utter a word that rarely passed her lips without sarcasm.

"Sorry, sir," she murmured.

"Oh, are you indeed? Sorry about what?" He harangued her without mercy. "Sorry that you were drinking underage? Sorry that you dressed like a whore? Sorry that you wet your kickers? Sorry that all my neighbours saw you doing that? Or just sorry that you got caught by someone who won't let you get away with it?"

He pulled her from the hallway into his lounge. She didn't really register any of it, just stood before him, compliant. He sat down on the sofa and regarded her.

"Now, Emily, even though you're a naughty, selfish, spoiled girl, I'm sure you understand that not everyone gets away with everything like you do?"

"I...I don't...I'm sorry, please can I go to the toilet?" was her whispered reply.

"It's a bit late for that, Emily. You already went to the toilet in your knickers. Now, I know you get away with everything, but what normally happens to schoolgirls when they're naughty? Come on, I'm sure you know!"

"Well, they get in trouble."

"Yes, and you're in trouble. What happens to a naughty schoolgirl when she's in trouble?"

Emily's mind was a whirl of ideas and feelings and she was trying to understand why she felt so submissivee and meek and unlike herself, but answered as best she could. "She'd get punished?"

Mr Mulhall smiled, wolfishly. "Yes, she'd get punished. I think we can agree that you're a very naughty schoolgirl, Emily. So how do you think you should be punished?"

Emily knew where this was going now, and knew the answer to the question - there was only one, really. She wasn't sure how she felt - embarrassed for sure, ashamed, humiliated. But she knew herself well enough to know that she was also very horny. Her pussy was not only wet with pee. As wet as her knickers were, her mouth was dry, but she croaked her answer.

"I should have my bottom spanked."

Mr Mulhall shifted uncomfortably, trying to hide his inappropriate but rock hard erection as he put on a stern expression. "That's right, Emily. You're a bad girl, and you've been very naughty and you need to be spanked."

Pulling Emily's hand, he guided her into the traditional pose, across his lap, face pressed against a cushion on the sofa, bottom raised by his knee. He flipped her skirt up, revealing the wet seat of her knickers to his openly lecherous gaze. Without preamble, he slapped her left cheek, then her right. Emily gasped and clenched her bottom in surprise. The spanks were not that hard, but she was unaccustomed to the feeling. Her bottom tingled. He spanked her again, alternating from cheek to cheek.

"You are naughty, aren't you Emily? Admit it."

"Yes, yes I am," she choked out. Four more spanks, her bottom now feeling warm and slightly tender.

"And what did you do that showed you to be naughty?"

Emily squeezed her eyes closed in shame and blushed, but replied: "I...I wet myself."

Mr Mulhall was satisfied that she was ready for what he wanted. Taking hold of the waistband, he pulled her soggy knickers down around her thighs as he said "That's right. You wet your knickers. You are a very naughty schoolgirl." With that, he started spanking her properly. One hard smack after another fell on her rapidly reddening bottom, bright handprints showing where his hand had fallen amidst the the hot, pink blotches that covered her soft, round behind. Emily cried out and sobbed and kicked her legs but made no effort to escape the punishment, laying submissively over her teacher's lap as he spanked her and spanked her and spanked her.

In the end, the spanking didn't stop because Mr Mulhall thought Emily had been punished enough, but because he couldn't control himself any longer. He stood suddenly, her body twisting off his lap to the floor, her face still pressed against the sofa as she cried tears of shame and pain. She heard him unbuckling his belt and thought for a moment that he planned to whip her with it, but then she heard his trousers fall to the carpet and knew exactly what was coming next. He grabbed her hips and pulled her into a half kneeling, half standing position on the sofa. He looked not at her bright red, recently punished bottom, but at her hot, wet cunt. His cock was as hard as at any time in his life. Images of scandal and headlines flashed briefly across his mind, but there was only one outcome here.

Forgetting about his career, he guided his cock between Emily's legs and sank into her tight pussy until his hips pressed against her sore bottom. It felt divine. She looked divine. He was fucking his slutty student after giving her a thorough spanking. He could lose his job. He felt great.

He fucked her hard and quickly, slamming in and out of her as she groaned and moaned on the sofa, arching her back and pushing back against him. Every time her teacher's cock thrust into her he rubbed against her punished bottom, sending stinging pain through her cheeks, but Emily could not recall a better fucking, and she'd had plenty. Her soggy knickers were pulled tight at her thighs as she tried to spread her legs, her toes kneading in her pissy socks as she revelled in the feeling of being fucked. she roughly squeezed her own nipples through her bra as Mr Mulhall screwed her harder and harder.

She could hear him panting, and felt him suddenly increase his pace. Pushing herself up the back of the sofa, she managed to twist as he pulled out, freeing herself from his cock. He looked surprised and momentarily disappointed, but she instantly fell to her knees and took his cock into her sweet mouth, tasting herself on it as she sucked, swirling her tongue around the head. She'd been right - he was about to cum and she had no desire to be on Teen Moms. With an intake of breath, he groaned and she felt his cock twitch. She kept sucking, bracing herself as several spurts of salty, thick cum sprayed against the roof of her mouth and filled her cheeks. She waited until he'd finished, then say back on her haunches, wincing slightly as her red bottom met her heels.

Mr Mulhall collapsed onto the sofa, hands over his face. Emily watched him for a second, and realised that he was probably realising what he'd just done. She'd been here before with Mr Billington and Miss Preston. With a slight grimace she swallowed the mouthful of his spunk and wiped her lips with her hand. It'd been quite a night. Her hands went to her cunt, and she started to rub herself, playing with her clit, pressing and fingering to a quick but powerful orgasm. She shuddered and sighed, prompting Mr Mulhall to open his eyes and look at her.

Emily smiled sweetly. "Don't worry, sir. Everything's fine. I was thinking - my parents aren't expecting me home tonight, so maybe I could sleep here. With you." Her eyes twinkled. "Although, sleeping in a teacher's bed is pretty naughty, so you might have to punish me again in the morning. What do you think?"