Anything For Georgetown Part four (the spanking and tickling scene)
Monica wants to get into Georgetown. The new guidance counselor wants to help--HIS way.
“So, Monica. You’re willing to do this?”
“Well, yeah. I mean, it kind of sounds like fun in a way. The boys … well, they’re just interested in sex, and that’s pretty much it. They're all about sticking it in, and … I’ve not even had an orgasm. I don’t know if there’s something wrong with me … but …”
Houlihan chuckled. “You’re young yet. To be honest, you probably won’t reach your sexual peak until you’re forty or so.”
Monica frowned. “You’re kidding, right?”
“No. Young men are reaching it at about your age, but women have to wait a while.”
“I’m not waiting, Mr. Houlihan.” With that, she slowly took off her school uniform. She peeled down to her Victoria’s Secret push-up bra and matching panties (paid for by the private lap dances).
Standing in front of him, she purred, “punish me. Punish me now.”
Houlihan gazed at the girl before him. True, she was of legal age, but he’d heard about teacher/student affairs that had been found out, and trouble ensued. What would he do if he were found out? Where would he go? What would he do? He’d better be able to get her into Georgetown. He’d think about that later.
He opened up the drawer again and took out a white feather. He laid it on the desk beside the paddle.
“Come here. Bend over the desk.” He rolled his chair back. Monica walked around, bent over so she was half-lying on the desk, perfect bottom almost at Houlihan’s eye level. “Spread your legs,” he whispered. She did.
As delicious as she was, Houlihan didn’t want to actually touch her with his fingers or his body. If it came down to being busted, he wanted to be truthful when he said he never laid a finger on her. In a way, it was a carryover from his Catholic upbringing. He felt that if he didn’t touch himself while masturbating, it didn’t count. A ridiculous thing to think of, but he had employed all sorts of things to tease himself with and he could honestly say the only times he touched his penis was when he went to the bathroom. Nope, no hairy palms here.
“Up on your toes,” he said. Monica flexed her foot as if she were wearing high heels. He bent over and ran the feather on the underside of her right foot, slowly tracing a line up her calf. He moved the feather back down again, in a slow oval, inching higher with each rotation. “Slow enough for you?”
“Oh, yes … yes.”
“Remember, if you squirm or flinch, you get smacked.”
“I remember.” Her voice sounded far away.
He inched his way up, then suddenly moved to her left leg, with a sharp downward motion. She wasn’t expecting that, and twitched. The paddle in his left hand gave her firm buttocks a quick slap. Not hard, just enough, so that over the course of several minutes, her bottom would be tingling.
Houlihan took his time moving the feather back and forth up those long, slender legs, once alternating back and forth between the tip and the pointy quill. The sensation of her inner thighs being tickled at the same time was too much for Monica, and she squirmed. The paddle smacked again, twice.
“Bad girl, to squirm. Bad girl for being a little slut. Bad girl for picking on other girls. What do you say to that, Monica?”
“I like it. I like being a bad girl. I like picking on other girls. Boys like what I have to offer.”
“But you’re not going to offer it any more. You’re going to pay for being such a little slut. Take your panties off.”
Monica slid the panties down to her ankles and delicately stepped out of them. They were damp. Houlihan could smell her excitement before the panties came off, but he wanted to see that young ass in all its glory. And here it was: round and pink. He made more circles with the feather, sometimes random lines, and always slowly. Monica was starting to breathe heavily. “Do your little boy toys do this to you?” whispered Houlihan. “Do they spank you for being a bad girl?”
“No,” Monica whispered back.
Monica straightened and turned. Now, those luscious breasts were in his face. “Take your bra off. Raise your arms over your head.” She unhooked it from the back, and he was amazed to see when she did, the breasts didn’t move at all. They were so firm, they didn’t hang—they just hovered there. Suddenly, Houlihan was extremely jealous of all those boys. He swore he wasn’t going to touch her. But this was torture; this was his teenage dream come true, his ultimate fantasy, his everything. And he wasn’t going to touch her. He couldn’t. That way, if something went haywire with this crazy plan, he could swear he never had sex with her, never laid a finger on her.
He held the feather between his thumb and forefinger, and gently traced her nipples. She took deep breaths. He chuckled. She wouldn’t be able to stay still for long. He drew the feather between her breasts, down to her belly button, and made the feather do a slow figure eight across her flat stomach. She quivered. He then smiled, and circled the feather in her left arm pit before he sliced it down her rib cage. She shrieked. “Turn around,” he said sternly.
Houlihan smacked her bottom several times, flicking his wrist, letting the paddle do the work. He then used the feather like a paint brush, frantically drawing it across her back, her bottom, her thighs, using her body like some three dimensional canvas. She never knew where the feather would land next, and as a result of being off guard, was squirming and shrieking. He kept smacking and smacking and smacking. In the midst of this frenzy, he rolled his chair closer, and rubbed his crotch on it. He needed something, anything to rub against if only because he just couldn’t stand it anymore. It only took a few seconds before he came. He collapsed in the chair, gazing at the naked girl before him. After a few minutes, she leaned against the back of his desk.
“That was fun. Now what? Said Monica.
“Get dressed. You’ve been punished enough for one day.”
“What about my satisfaction?” she pouted a bit.
“Listen—I said I could get you into Georgetown, but that doesn’t mean you get to knock off the books. Even Georgetown isn’t stupid enough to let in a student who can’t make the grade. Keep your grades up—nothing below an A minus at the grading quarters. And I saw your PSATs. Not bad. But the better you do, the easier it will be. Georgetown gets a lot of applications from good students—and they turn away a fair amount of them. You do your part, and you’ll get your satisfaction … eventually.”
Monica stared. Then, she smiled. She got dressed, slowly.
“Remember, I meant it about behaving. If I hear of any behavior problems, or if you’re out entertaining the boys again, there will be hell to pay. Once you’re in …” he trailed off.
“Then what?” asked Monica.
“We’ll talk about that later.” Houlihan grinned. “And Monica, this is our little secret. I’ll deny anything you say, if you double-cross me. Your reputation isn’t great. Everyone knows about you. Keep your nose to the grindstone and work hard, and I’ll talk to the folks at Georgetown.”
Now fully dressed, Monica picked up her backpack. Her bottom still tingled from what had just transpired. But she still had a mixture of feelings going on. This seemed dirty, exciting, dangerous. The fact that she was getting punished in a private office at school was ten times hotter than any sexual act she’d done with any boy. Oh, they touched her in the right places, but frequently, she’d had to use a vibrator while they did it. And being the same age, or younger, they didn’t seem to have any sort of authority at all. No power.
Houlihan was good looking, and sexy and could pull a few strings for her to get her into the college of her choice. Isn’t that what life was all about? Doing favors, or things that you really didn’t want to do in order to get what you wanted? She liked having her breasts touched, and she liked doing the private dances, and of course, the money was great … but those boys couldn’t get her to Georgetown. Houlihan could. And in exchange, all she had to do was allow herself to be spanked and tickled to fulfill whatever fantasies he had. The payoff would come when she got into Georgetown.
She drove home like a bat out of hell. Still excited, she ran upstairs to her huge, pink and white bedroom, still looking very girlish, and got out a vibrator that made the little portable one she took with her on her special “dates” look like a pencil. The vibrator she used at home specifically said not to be used on small body parts. However, when she was by herself, it was the only thing that would bring her to orgasm. Sometimes, it was quick, sometimes it took forever. But after Houlihan’s punishment today, and thoughts of what the future would eventually bring, she was able to come in a couple of minutes. She liked the way she felt after an orgasm.
Suddenly feeling tired, she set her alarm for a quick nap. It was the weekend, and she looked forward to movies and shopping. She was a little upset she wouldn’t be able to do the lap dancing anymore, but the 10,000 she had stashed in her hope chest was enough for now. She rolled over in her perfumed sheets (Donna Karan’s Be Delicious) and dropped off to sleep.