Amy Turner knew she was in trouble as she sat, trembling, outside the Headmaster's office. She had never been summoned here before, never been in trouble before. She was the good girl, the vicar's daughter, and although she had just turned eighteen she felt just like a child again. The tone of the Headmaster's note to her own Form Master, the look on his face, the stares of her fellow pupils all had her in trepidation as she walked the long, silent corridor in fear.
She didn't know what she was supposed to have done but the way the Headmaster's fierce secretary had informed him of her arrival with a blunt, "She's here," let her know that whatever it was it must be very bad, very bad indeed, for Miss O'Hare to treat her so cruelly. The 40 year old secretary had simply sat behind her desk, returned to her paperwork and ignored Amy.
After what seemed a lifetime of standing there (as Miss O'Hare had made a point of not inviting her to sit), the door to the Headmaster's office was thrown open and Mr Gallagher suddenly appeared in front of Amy. He had always frightened her with his tall frame (at least six foot four) and now towered above her slight five feet nothing. As he came closer, his body seemed to fill the room and, when Amy eventually found the strength to lift her eyes, he glared down at her.
"You," he commanded, "In my office now!"
Amy could do nothing but obey as she took a few steps forward into what seemed like a trap. And that is exactly what it was as the Headmaster and Miss O'Hare followed her into the room -- the secretary locking the door behind them.
"What's going on?" Amy pleaded.
"You may well ask, Miss Turner. When did it become acceptable to cheat at exams in this school?" the Headmaster thundered, having walked round his huge desk and sat down behind it. Miss O'Hare, meanwhile, remained behind Amy.
The young girl didn't understand a word he had said. Yes, they had just sat their final Maths exam but Amy had always come top of her class in Maths, as in everything else. She didn't need to cheat. She knew there had obviously been some mistake and, relaxing just a little, she said so to the Headmaster.
"Is that so," he asked sarcastically. "In that case maybe you can tell me why both you and Alison White got exactly the same mark and made exactly the same mistakes?" He threw the two identical papers at the frightened girl and she tried, vainly, to catch them. As she bent down to pick them up off the floor she heard a gasp from behind and, looking round, saw Miss O'Hare appearing to look up her short skirt. Confused more than ever, she stood up and looked at the papers in her trembling hands. Sure enough, both the papers seemed to be exact copies with only the names at the top differing.
"But Alison must have copied me. She sat behind me during the exam. She must have done!" she entreated.
"Don't make it worse for yourself by trying to blame another innocent pupil. I have already spoken to Miss White (he hadn't but she was a fat, ugly girl and of no use to him). She has promised me that she would never cheat so the only other explanation is that you are the culprit. The only question now is what are we going to do about it?"
"Do?" asked Amy in total bewilderment; she couldn't understand any of this. It was all happening too fast. "What do you mean?"
"You must be punished, Miss Turner. Otherwise you will never learn the error of your ways. The only alternative to being punished by myself is for me to call your father and leave the matter to him. Would you prefer that, Miss Turner? Would you like me to call the vicarage and let your parents know that you are a cheat?"
The tears poured from Amy's downcast eyes as she imagined her father and Sunday- School teacher mum discovering that their only daughter, their pride and joy was nothing more than a common cheat. This was so unfair, she had done nothing wrong. If she ever got out of this office Alison White was going to pay.
"Please, Sir. I'll do anything. Just don't let my parent's find out. I'll accept whatever punishment you see fit to give me."
Inwardly he was smiling in delight as his plan started to come to fruition but to Amy his face never changed. He continued to glare at her from beneath his dark eyebrows and eventually leaned back in his chair.
"Very well, Miss Turner. You shall be punished and punished right now. Take off your clothes."
Amy couldn't believe what she had just heard. "What?" was all she could say in shock.
"Take off your clothes, Miss Turner, and don't make me come round this desk to do it for you or your punishment will be even more severe."
Amy stood still. She couldn't move. Neither her brain nor her arms could understand what her Headmaster was saying to her so she just stood there.
"Very well, Miss Turner, you leave me with no choice." With a nod to his secretary, he stood up and walked round the desk to his terrified pupil. Miss O'Hare suddenly was right behind Amy and she grabbed both the young girl's arms. "If you want to make this harder for yourself then so be it."
Amy shook in terror as her Headmaster grabbed both sides of her white, school blouse and ripped it apart, buttons flying across the room. She looked down in disbelief as her tiny tits were now covered only by her plain, white, cotton bra. She didn't always need one, so small were her tits, but she was glad she had worn one today. Unfortunately, it didn't offer her much protection as his big hands simply ripped it apart and she gasped in shame as the first man ever to her see her naked breasts simply leaned down and started to suck on her right nipple. His hand soon found her left one and Amy didn't know what to do, to think, to feel. No one had ever touched her like this; no-one from her small village would have dared, knowing who her father was. She knew that she should be trying to break free from Miss O'Hare. She knew that this was wrong. But why did it feel so nice?
The Headmaster swapped sides and now her left nipple was feeling his warm, wet tongue circle it as it got bigger, harder and more sensitive than she had ever known. She had only recently started to explore her own body but she was a good girl and she knew such things were sinful. But that didn't explain the feelings in her tummy at this moment; it didn't explain why she felt she had to squeeze her legs together to control what was happening between them. She could feel herself start to get light headed when she heard Miss O'Hare say, "She's ready."
The Headmaster released her nipple from his soft lips and she suddenly realised that she wanted them back. He, however, was reaching round her young waist to the back of her skirt. Undoing the button, pulling down the zip and tugging it over her hips, the skirt was on the floor before she knew what was happening. Almost in a daze, she stepped out of it as the Headmaster simply threw it aside and stood up.
Just for a moment he seemed to stop and simply stare. Amy's white, cotton knickers were now all that stood between him and his prize and he wanted to enjoy the sight. He could see tiny, black hairs curling out from each side and he knew that she had never shaved her cunt. He reached forward, cupped her pussy through her knickers and was both surprised and delighted to find a tiny wet spot on her crotch.
"So you like what I did to your nipples, Miss Turner. Perhaps you're going to enjoy your punishment after all."