Many thanks for your suggestions. I've incorporated what I can in this chapter and will use some of the other ideas in future chapters if sufficient interest exists.
*
Chloe Hunt was in trouble again at school and this time it was serious. In frustration the petite schoolteacher had inexplicably lashed out at one of her third formers and now she stood before the headmaster like one of those misbehaving tykes. Mr Mason looked exasperated. "If there's one thing you can't do these days Miss Hunt, it's striking the pupils," he sighed, as if she needed reminding.
Chloe stood shamefaced, her career in tatters, her life an abject mess. Mumbled apologies went unheeded. "Come closer, Miss Hunt."
Chloe shuffled forward. She stood face to face with Mr Mason, even though he remained seated. A towering presence in the mould of a 1950's master, he was still able to recall fondly the days when corporal punishment was encouraged. Nowadays, however, there was no excuse. Chloe knew it too, her lapse unforgivable. "It's a shame for you're a good teacher, popular with the students and the teachers.
The words cut like a scalpel. "Is there anything I can do?" she pleaded.
She knew of course that the moment the snotty nosed brat she'd backhanded squealed to his parents she was finished, but she had to cling to something. "Is there anything YOU can do, Mr Mason?" she appealed with doe eyes.
"Oh I think it's too late for that, don't you, Miss Hunt?"
Chloe's eyes filled with tears. "There must be something you can do to help me."
The wily old headmaster rubbed at his chin. "You want me to pull a few strings to get you off the hook, Miss Hunt?"
He seemed to be coming round to her way of thinking, assisted no doubt by Chloe's pretty persuasion. She had been able to twist men around her little finger from an early age. It was a blonde thing. Chloe nodded enthusiastically as he proceeded to lecture her on how he kept a tight ship at the school, how he couldn't tolerate teachers taking the law into their own hands...blah, blah, blah...
Chloe felt like she was drowning in a sea of words, not really hearing and only rousing when the tirade ended. "Sorry?" she queried, thinking she must have heard incorrectly.
"I said come and bend yourself over my knee, Miss Hunt."
Chloe's eyed bulged. He had said those words. It was unthinkable yet she found herself obeying. Mr Mason's lap was firm, ably supporting her belly, her toes stretched for support on the wooden floor, palms flat the other side. She could feel the old man's eyes boring into her body, surveying each aesthetic curve. A tiny whimper slipped from her pursed lips as she waited in anticipation.
A huge hand took hold of her thigh, sliding the tiny skirt up over the peachiest butt imaginable. Chloe shivered all over, breath held tight. Sure thumbs hooked inside the waistbands of her panties, shifting them down to rest on the backs of her knees. As she awaited her fate, Chloe wondered how many other girls had been in this position before, back in the days when such things were allowable – or more recently perhaps. Maybe this was what the old pervert had wanted all along.
She gasped as the warm air of the study brushed over the moistness of her pussy. "You know what happens to naughty little girls," mused Mr Mason.
Though it was a rhetorical question, Chloe felt compelled to answer. "Yes Sir, they get punished Sir."
She flinched as the headmaster's warm hands reached beneath to her flat stomach, elevating so that the sweet young arse plumped up. Chloe held her breath in growing anticipation, a tingle deep in her loins.
SPANK! SPANK! SPANK!
"Ow-eeeeeee," she cried, biting her bottom lip. "Ow, ow, ow."
She could picture the satisfaction on the old man's face. And feel it on hers too. For in spite of the numb discomfort in the rose-blushed cheeks, the overwhelming feeling was one of arousal. It was so intense her pussy had leaked a sticky deposit on the headmaster's grey slacks...
* * *
The pretty teacher cried out loud, jolting up in bed as the dream replayed in a mind that had become beset with kinky musings. Thighs rubbing together, her soaking wet pussy from the dream had found its way into reality, her bald lips soaked with cunt juice. "Oh my God," she whispered.
Allowing a brief moment to let her mind un-fog, she fought to disassociate dream from reality. For once, however, her dreams were less bizarre than reality, the events of the previous day reverberating in a troubled mind. Hard to believe, but this time yesterday her life had been following a normal, dare she admit boring, path. In twenty-four hours everything had been turned on its head by young blackmailer Kevin Manning.
Finally composing, she rose from the bed, immediately sensing a numb pain between her legs, courtesy of ex-boyfriend Jack's brutal assault. Tiptoeing to the bathroom she surveyed the smattering of small brown bruises that littered her inner thighs and hips. After a soothing shower, she heard the mobile phone bleep. The text message read simply: It's a hot day, dress appropriately, see you at school, K.
Riffling through the line of hanging garments Chloe searched for something suitable to please Kevin, her hand drawn magnetically to the skirt she'd last sported as a carefree teenager. Peach in colour, it was terrifyingly tiny and she shivered at the thought, wrestling with her better nature. A sheer cream blouse, almost see through, caught her attention and she wondered whether panties and bra were allowable. Locating a little frilly white set in the drawer, the teacher was prepared to face the consequences were she mistaken. Her highest heels, normally reserved for clubbing, completed the look, a look that screamed 'slut'.
The walk to school was an awkward one, not just the awkward clicky heels but on account of a belief that all eyes were on her. It ranged from the parents dropping off the really young ones at infant school, to the pubescent teens who harboured outrageous wank fantasies, to the older ones who issued lecherous grins and her fellow teachers who didn't know quite what to make of this bizarre transition from librarian to hooker.
One consolation was that her first two classes were with eleven and twelve-year olds that still regarded her as an authority figure rather than a sex object. A few gave her odd looks but she could brush it off easily. Miraculously, lunchtime came around uneventfully though she did ensure to keep an eye open for Kevin Manning.
As it transpired, he'd been sitting an exam all morning, out of harm's way. Consequently her early optimism was misplaced as the headmaster summoned her to his study after lunch. What have I done now? She thought. Oh God, he wasn't going to pull her up on these clothes, was he? Chloe trudged along to the office with the previous night's dream playing heavily on her mind. Surely he wouldn't spank her, would he?
