Tracy Goes to the Principal's

"Come in, Mrs. Willows." I call out as I hear a knock on my office door. Glancing at my watch I see that you are late, you should have been here fifteen minutes ago if you had been following my instructions from the day before.

You enter hesitantly, looking around the office, trying to look at anything but me as I sit behind my desk. I look you over as you approach me, you are wearing an outfit very similar to the one you had on yesterday. The blazer and skirt are a few shades lighter blue and your blouse is a creamy silk. The skirt seems shorter, exposing more of your shapely legs to my view as you stand in front of me, shifting your feet like a nervous student. "Mr. Cash," you start to say, your voice soft and your eyes refusing to meet mine, "I..."

"You're late." I interrupt, "I told you to be here fifteen minutes ago, slut. I expect you to obey me." I tell you as I stand up, moving over to stand in front of you. "I thought I made that clear yesterday."

"About yesterday, Mr. Cash..." You say, raising your face to mine for the first time, your voice sounding stronger. "I... I'm going to tell the police that you... you raped me." You announce stumbling over the words even as you feel your face flush in embarrassment as you remember the events of the previous day.

"Did I now?" I chuckle, stepping close to you, my hand cupping your chin as you try to turn your face away from mine. "I fucked you, Mrs. Willows and you enjoyed it. You got off on being treated like the slut you are and now you're ashamed of it and you want me to be punished for making you realize the truth about yourself."

"That's... that's not true." You deny, the strength leaving your voice. "You... you raped me."

"Turn around, Tracy." I tell you, my hand releasing your chin to rest lightly on your shoulder.

"Please don't..." You almost beg in a small voice as you turn around, seeing yourself in the mirror, my grinning face over your right shoulder. "Please..." You gasp as my hands slide down off your shoulder, sliding across the fabric of your blazer to cup your breasts as you watch the two of us in mirror.

"Squat down, Mrs. Willows," I whisper softly in your ear as my hands slide over your stomach, unbuttoning your blazer.

"I... I can't..." You protest even as you bend down, your knees tight together as you squat down in front of me. Your hand pulls at the hem of your skirt, trying to get it down to cover your knees as you watch my face carefully.

"Very good, Tracy," I encourage you as you lower yourself to the floor, my hand sliding up your front until they are resting on your shoulders. My fingers slide through your hair, combing your thick blonde hair as my fingertips lightly caress the soft skin of your cheeks. "Very good indeed, my dear." I whisper softly as I bend down behind you, my hands gripping your blazer and pushing it down off your shoulders. You let it slide down your arms to lay on the floor behind you as I press myself close to your back, my face pressed into your hair.

You shiver slightly as you feel my breath on your neck, my nose filling with the scent of your shampoo as my arms encircle your waist, pulling you tight against me until you can feel my arousal through my pants. "You smell lovely, Mrs. Willows. Almost good enough to eat," I compliment you as my tongue stretches out to lick along the side of your neck, smiling at the memory of eating you out the previous day. The sudden blush and embarrassed expression tell me you are recounting the same thing as my hands slide over your thighs, tracing along your skirt until my palms rest on your bare knees. "Now let's see what kind of panties you're wearing today, shall we?" I ask you, my lips brushing against your earlobe as I watch your expression in the mirror. Your eyes drop to watch my hands as I slowly push your knees outward, spreading your thighs inch by slow inch, forcing your skirt to hike slowly up your legs. "What kind of panties are you wearing today, Mrs. Willows?"

"Please, no..." You start to protest, your eyes watching as your legs are inexorably spread, knowing that in a few seconds I'll be looking at your most intimate areas again. "Just cotton panties," you tell me in a rush, thinking that it'll somehow stop me, that telling me will halt the humiliating spread of your legs.

"Tell me more, Tracy." I say, smiling as my hands stop pressing on your knees, not forcing them open but holding them in position so that you can't close them either. "Tell me about your underwear, my little slut."

"I'm wearing French cut cotton panties with... with little flowers on the edges." You tell me, your voice little more then an embarrassed whisper as your cheeks flush a bright crimson color.

"Oh, sounds lovely," I reply, smiling at the pained expression in your eyes, "Let's take a look at them, shall we?" I say with a small chuckle as I spread your legs the rest of the way, your skirt hiking up over your thighs to expose the crotch of your panties to my view.

"Nooo..." You gasp out as you feel your legs forced open, your gaze unable to leave your crotch as you see the reflection of your panties become visible.

"Very cute, Tracy," I chuckle as my eyes feast on the crotch of your panties as you hang your head in shame, humiliated at not offering any resistance to my actions. "I like the little flowers, innocent and seductive at the same time. You're wearing light blue panties again, Mrs. Willows. Do you like your panties to be different colors?"

"I... I like blue. I like light blue panties." You confess to me, shuddering as you feel my hands slide down off your knees and along your thighs. "They're my favorite."

"Hmm, I can see why," I murmur softly in your ear, my hands moving up your legs until my hand rest just below your panties, the sides of my fingers brushing against the mound of your sex. "Your pussy looks so cute in your light blue panties, Mrs. Willows. Almost like it's begging to be fucked," I tell you, as my fingers slide lightly across the fabric of your panties. "Is your pussy ready to be fucked, Tracy? Does having me look at your panties get you all wet, Mrs. Willows?"

"No... please," you almost sob as you feel my finger slowly trace along the cleft of your pussy, feeling the moist warmth radiating out of your sex. "I'm... I'm not wet."

"Really, Tracy," I say, feigning shock as my fingers stretch your panties tight over your pussy, showing a dark damp spot on the light blue cotton. "Then I think you might have had an accident because you're panties are wet. If you are not aroused then you pissed yourself," I tell you, my voice filled with laughter as I feel you shudder in my arms.

"I didn't..." You stammer softly, your blue eyes filled with shame as you feel my fingers continue to stroke along your pussy, the wetness spreading, darkening the crotch of your panties.

"Only one way to find out," I tell you, my finger dipping under the elastic band of your panties, rubbing along the soft lips of your pussy quickly before I raise it up in front of you face. You try to look away as you see the moisture glistening on my fingertip as I hold it in front of your face. "It doesn't smell like you pissed your panties, Mrs. Willows." I tell you with a smile as I hold my finger to my nose, "And it definitely doesn't taste like urine." I say as I lick my finger, tasting your pussy as you tremble in shame. "I think you may actually be enjoying this," I tell you as my hand drops down your crotch again, cupping the entirety of your sex as my finger traces the cleft of your pussy.

"No, I... don't," you gasp as my fingers pull your panties aside, exposing the wet lips of your pussy to the cool air of the office. Your gaze is locked on the mirror, watching as my fingers run along the tight lips of your cunt, spreading them to expose the wet inner flesh. "Ahh," You moan as my finger traces along the soft pink flesh, lightly circling the entrance of your vagina.

"If you don't enjoy this, if you're not aroused by me molesting your married pussy then why are you so wet, Mrs. Willows?" I ask as the tip of my finger just barely enters your vagina, causing your muscles to spasm. "You're a slut, Tracy. You're my slut." I whisper softly in your ear as my finger slides further into your pussy.

"No, I'm married..." You gasp, your eyes closing slightly as my finger caresses the sensitive inner walls of your pussy. "Please, my husband..."

"Doesn't know what a hot piece of ass you are, Mrs. Willows." I interrupt, finishing the sentence in a way you never would have. "Or else he's a complete jackass. If my wife was as much of a cock hungry slut as you are, I'd never let her out of my site."

"Oh, God, I..." You pant as my finger slips out of your pussy, your eyes seeing your arousal glistening in the dim light of my office.

"Stand up, Tracy." I command you as I do the same, stepping back to lean on the edge of my desk. As you stand up on slightly unsteady legs, your skirt falls down just enough to cover your exposed pussy, leaving most of your shapely legs exposed. I stand behind you, silently admiring your body as you just stare at your reflection in the mirror ashamed and humiliated to be standing there in my power. After a few minutes of silence you turn your head to see me standing behind you, my eyes running hungrily over your slender body.

"Mr. Cash?" You ask hesitantly, your voice trembling as you brush a lock of your hair away from your face.

"Call me Sir, Tracy." I tell you, stepping up close behind you, my hands resting on your hips. "Sir or Master, Mrs. Willows, understand?"

"Yes... Sir," You reply, stammering slightly over the title.

"Very good, my little slut," I chuckle, my hand sliding up over your waist, my fingers sliding up under your arms until they are pressed into your armpits. "You'll get used to calling me Master over time." I promise as my hands raise your arms, holding them out to your side so that your wrist and elbow are level with your shoulder. My fingers trace along the length of your outstretched arms, caressing the smooth silk of your blouse until my fingers reach the collar. I start to unbutton your blouse slowly, my fingers spreading your shirt open after each button is undone, exposing the soft skin of your neck before moving down to the soft valley between your breasts.

"Does your bra match your panties today, Mrs. Willows?" I ask as I undo the button just below your heaving breasts, my fingers sliding into the gaping front of your blouse to gently caress the soft skin. "Tell me about your bra, Tracy."

"It... it matches my panties." You tell me after a brief second of reluctance, your eyes looking at my hands as they rest just below the soft globes of your breasts. "It's a powder blue half cup bra, with... with a small flower between the cups." You tell me in a rush, your face a bright red as you share the intimate details of your lingerie with me.

"Oh, that sounds just too lovely," I say, smiling at the embarrassment in your face, "I've got to see it." My fingers spread your blouse open to reveal your breasts encased in the light blue bra, the soft swells of your breasts seeming to almost overflow the half cups. "Mmm, even better then I pictured in my mind, Mrs. Willows." I murmur softly in your ear as my fingers slide down the valley between your breasts, toying with the small cloth flower nestled there. "You've got lovely breasts for a woman your age, Tracy. What cup size do you take?" I ask as my fingers slide over the rounded flesh above your bra, tracing the edge of your bra with light tickling caresses. "How big are these lovely tits of yours, Mrs. Willows?"

"Please don't, Mr... Sir." You beg, catching yourself before calling by name again. "It's embarrassing." You plead even as you arch your back slightly, forcing more of your breasts into my groping hands.

"Tell me, Tracy." I command, my fingers hooking the cups of your bra, pulling it down so that your breasts pop out. My fingers slide up to rub your nipples, the sensitive flesh hardening and becoming erect under my caresses.

"Thirty... thirty four C." You confess, almost sobbing in shame as my hands cup the mounds of your breasts, squeezing them gently.

"Look in the mirror, Mrs. Willows." I tell you needlessly, your eyes fixed on your reflection, watching my hands as they grope your heaving breasts. "Tell me what you see, Tracy. Describe your lovely tits to me." I whisper in your ear as my fingers trace light circles around your hard nipple.

"Please don't make me do this, Mas... Master." You plead as you stare at my large hands as they roughly fondle your breasts.

"Tell me, Tracy." I hiss in your ear, my fingers pinching the hard nub of your nipple hard.

"Ow!" You gasp out, squirming in my arms as you try to free your nipple from my fingers. "My breasts are..."

"Call them your tits, Mrs. Willows. Respectable women have breasts; sluts like you have tits or jugs." I instruct as I interrupt you.

"Yes, Sir." You submit your voice soft as your eyes watch my fingers slide down off your breasts to quickly undo the last few buttons of your blouse. "My tits," you stammer, blushing at the humiliating task of describing your breasts to me, "are 34 C; they are nicely rounded with only a little bit of sag."

"Very good, Mrs. Willows." I encourage you, my hands moving with your words, lifting your breasts as if to accentuate your description. "What about your nipples?"

"My nipples..." You gasp as my fingers brush over the sensitive underside of your breasts. "My nipples are large, about a quarter of an inch long when they are erect surrounded by a dark pink aureole that's about as big around as a quarter."

"Are your nipples hard right now?" I ask, my hands sliding up over your breast to rest on your shoulders as you continue to stare at your exposed bosom.

"Yes, my nipples are hard; they're sticking out from my tits as if begging to be sucked." You admit to me, your voice almost pleading for some sort of release. You are embarrassed by having to tell me the most intimate details of your body but your body is begging for some sort of sexual relief.

"Are you sexually excited by talking about your tits, Mrs. Willows?" I ask you, my hands sliding down to cup your heaving breasts, the fingers spreading wide over the soft flesh.

"No... It's embarrassing," You say, shaking your head in denial even as your eyes never leave my hands on your exposed breasts.

"I think you're lying to me, Tracy." I whisper in your ear, my hands sliding down off your breasts to caress your bare stomach. "I bet your pussy is flooded with your juices right now, aren't they? How about it, Mrs. Willows, are your panties soaking wet from your slutty pussy?" I ask you as my fingers slide over the fabric of your skirt, reaching down to grip the hem where it rests halfway down your thighs.

"No, I'm not..." You start to deny, shaking your head slightly as I lift your skirt up over your thighs, your eyes following the hem as I pull it up to reveal the crotch of your light blue panties.

"You're not what, Mrs. Willows? Wet? I think you are," I say, chuckling at the embarrassment in your eyes as I pull your skirt up over your hips to expose the entire front of your panties. "Let's find out how wet your pussy is right now, Tracy. Squat down and spread your legs like before." I instruct you.

"No, please don't make me..." You plead, your eyes flicking up from the reflection of your panties to my face, as it smiles down at you in the mirror. "Please," You repeat softly as you squat down obediently, your legs spreading wide to reveal the moisture darkened crotch of your panties.

"Hmm, well, I think I was right about your pussy being flooded, wasn't I, Tracy?" I ask in a smug tone of voice as your eyes are drawn to your exposed panties. "Tell me what you see, Mrs. Willows. Describe your panties and pussy to me."

You are silent for a few seconds, your gaze fixed on the wet spot in the center of your panties as you feel your shame at being exposed like this before me. "My panties are light blue, powder blue is the actual name." you tell me in a soft voice, your head bowing forward slightly so your long blonde hair falls in front of your face, hiding your expression from me. "They've got small flowers around the edges and... and a dark wet spot on them." You almost whisper the last part of the description to me.

"Where's the wet spot?" I ask as I bend down behind you, pulling your hair back over your ear to reveal your humiliated expression.

"Over my... pussy." You tell me, your eyes still fixed on your panty covered pussy. "The crotch of my panties is damp, the lips of my pussy visible through the fabric."

"Tell me about your pussy, Mrs. Willows. Describe your slutty cunt to me." I whisper in your ear as my hand drops down to rest on your thigh, gently massaging the soft flesh of your leg.

"It's... It has been a couple of weeks since I trimmed my pussy," You confess to me as I slide my fingers over the warm wet center of your panties. "I'm not hairy, but my pussy isn't as neat as it usually is."

"Go on, Tracy," I murmur in your ear as my finger slides back and forth along the length of your pussy, "tell me about your slutty married pussy."

"Oh god, this is so embarrassing." You gasp as your hand comes down to cover mine, pressing my finger harder against your pussy. "My outer pussy lips are thin and long and they close tightly. You need to open them totally in order to see the inner side of my pinky private area..." You tell me, your eyes watching my finger as it caresses the damp cotton of your panties, stroking your pussy through your underwear.

"Show me. Show me your tight pussy lips and your private pink area." I whisper in your ear, my hand sliding out from under yours so that your hand is resting on your pussy. "Pull your panties aside, Mrs. Willows, and show me your married pussy."

You moan softly although whether it's in embarrassment or arousal is hard to tell as your fingers pull your panties to one side, exposing the bare lips of your pussy to the mirror. Your hand cups your sex, two fingers running along either side of your tight labia as my hands push your legs wider apart. "Spread your pussy for me, Tracy." I instruct you softly, my lips brushing against your earlobe as I inhale the scent of your hair. "Show me the most private area of your body."

"Please don't humiliate me more, sir." You plead even as your long fingers slowly spread your thin labia, exposing the coral pink innards of your pussy to my hungry gaze. The pink skin of your cunt glistens with your arousal as your fingers spread it wider, the small opening of your vagina being exposed.

"You find showing your pussy to me humiliating, Mrs. Willows?" I ask in feigned shock as my hand rests on your bare thighs. "Then I want you to describe your pussy to me, tell me every intimate detail of your cunt, Tracy."

"No...please," You manage to barely gasp out, your dark blue eyes fixed on the soft pink flesh between your fingers. "I... can't." You say, your face showing your embarrassment.

"Tell me." I hiss in your ear as my hands slide down your thighs, my fingers caressing the sides of your hands as you stare at your exposed sex.

"Please...sir." You sob, your eyes never leaving your bared sex as my fingers slide down over your hand, caressing the soft juicy flesh of your pussy.

"Tell me what I'm doing to your pussy, Tracy." I breathe in your ear as my fingers slide over yours, feeling the golden band on your left hand before my finger feels the warm wet flesh of your sex.

"Your... your finger is running along the edges of my... my pussy." You say softly, your voice barely audible as you watch my fingers slide over your sex. "I... my little clit is hard when your thumb brushes against it. You're sliding your finger back and forth, teasing my... my vagina." You almost gasp, your hips bucking against my exploring hand as the sensations of pleasure run through your body.