Miss Fenwickâs torments started hereâŠ
I was on the brink of a bone-shaking orgasm when a crisp knock on the door interrupted my fantasy of being taken roughly by my headmaster, as I relived the moments of our âdiscipliningâ session together a few days earlier.
Resentfully pulling my hands from between my thighs, I scurried to the door. Mr Chapel, the Geography teacher, was in the habit of visiting my room a few nights every week. I guessed heâd been watching me pleasure myself through one of the five cameras heâd installed in the little flat that I lived in on-site at the boarding school where we both taught, and had decided to invite himself to the party.
Throwing open the door, I was shocked to find that, instead of my portly middle-aged lover, Sebastian Wentworth awaited on the other side, his signature smirk playing around his lips.
Sebastian had been a thorn in my side ever since Iâd started my job, my first since qualifying as a teacher. The school was internationally renowned in wealthy circles for being able to correct the wayward, pampered children of the super-rich. It took only adult pupils of eighteen or older, who had never completed a formal education and the school used whatever means it deemed necessary to instil obedience and decorum.
The headmaster was a granite-faced tower of a man, looming through the corridors in his academic robes, striking fear into the hearts of all but the most irredeemable pupils.
Sebastian Wentworth was definitely one of those. His great-grandfather had made a pile in shady circumstances during the First World War. His son had compounded that wealth many times over. From what I could tell from the tabloids that breathlessly reported the Wenthworthsâ every move, Sebastianâs father seemed intent on running through the entire family fortune in his lifetime. Sebastian was a son from his fatherâs fourth marriage, he had had three stepmothers since his parents had divorced acrimoniously and was one of a dozen legitimate children, with several dozen acknowledged and unacknowledged illegitimates scattered around the globe.
Sebastian was not the first of his fatherâs children to be admitted to the school, but had proved to be the least susceptible to the establishmentâs corrective methods.
I had only been initiated into the schoolâs corporal punishment practices a month before, but I was now aware that Sebastian had been caned, buggered and degraded with seemingly no improvement in his behaviour or attitude.
He had the entitled swagger that was common amongst our students, particularly in their first days at the school. In many, it was beaten or squirmed out of them after a few discipline sessions with one of the teachers or, in the most extreme cases, with the headmaster himself.
The headmaster had recently started instructing me in both the giving and the receiving of correction. His methods involved physical, emotional and sexual punishment, all designed to reduce the recipient to a humiliated, compliant state.
I had experienced countless orgasms under his hands, the pleasure all-too-often being overwhelmed by shame as he used my body, dispensing his brand of dispassionate justice. Mr Chapel was almost always there, either filming or participating, and the headmaster had recently started to introduce other members of the faculty during the sessions.
There were few teachers that I could now look in the eye without wondering if they were reminiscing about spraying copious loads of their cum all over my bared tits and face, or remembering the sight of my shuddering body as I exploded into orgasm as they fucked me mercilessly.
Sebastian, though, appeared to be utterly impervious to all efforts to improve his behaviour and still swanned about the place as if he owned it, unaffected by any beating or humiliation.
And now he was on my doorstep, leaning casually against the door frame, grinning wickedly with his habitual arrogance.
âMiss Fenwick, how lovely to see you! To see so much of you!â
As I looked down in dismay, suddenly remembering that Iâd dashed to the door entirely naked, Sebastian took advantage of my distraction to shove hard against the door, pushing me inside and closing the door behind him, shutting us both inside the confines of my flat.
âSebastian!â I screeched, appalled.
Still steering me authoritatively, he said, âInto the bedroom, Miss Fenwick. Weâre going to have ourselves a lovely time.â
Unable to shake him off, I found myself propelled into my bedroom, where Sebastian picked me up and casually tossed me onto the bed. Whilst I scrambled to stand, he sat down heavily next to me and put a restraining hand across my naked thigh.
âStay here, Miss Fenwick. Youâre definitely going to want to see this.â
Reaching into his jacket pocket, he pulled out his phone and, deftly fingering it, proffered the screen to me.
It took me a second to register what I was looking at, but I shrieked in horror and dismay when I realised that I was filling the screen of his phone, being caned by the headmaster whilst sucking Mr Chapelâs angry cock, each of my hands filled with another prick that I was frantically stroking.
This had been Tuesday, when Mr Robinson and Mr Webb, the Maths teachers, had been recruited to assist in my training. I covered my mouth, stunned, as I watched my face and body being liberally covered in thick gouts of their hot, sticky cum as the headmaster thrashed me and my body shook as I came from the two vibrators buried deep inside my pussy and arsehole.
âQuite the show, Miss Fenwick. What a little trouper you are.â Sebastian ran his hand up my thigh as he said this, squeezing the flesh and worming his warm palm between my legs, his fingers grazing the length of my slit as I jumped beside him.
âWould you like to see more? Iâve got hours of this. You have been very busy in that study since you joined us. Such dedication to your job. Itâs really very commendable.â
As he said this, he carried on trailing his fingers along my pussy, parting my folds with his thumb and starting to rub my clit. Having just been so recently denied an orgasm by his knock at my door, I was still hopelessly wet and excited and I started to push against his thumb, barely aware of what I was doing.
âYou really are a hot little piece, arenât you, Miss Fenwick?â he said, abruptly removing his thumb as I mewled in dismay. Brushing it along my bottom lip before forcing it into my mouth, he made me suck my juices off his thumb, pushing it deeply down my throat as I gagged against his knuckle.
Still choking me with his thumb, he continued, âSo, Miss Fenwick, youâre going to show me what a good girl you can be and Iâm going to fuck you senseless and bury my load all the way inside you, just the way you like. Do we have an agreement?â
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