"Very well, Miss Fairchild. But I tell you this, and you must agree, or I'll drag your pretty ass to your door and dump you there."
"Yes?" Her eyes were wide with hope.
Olaffsen brought his face to within a few inches of hers. He put his hands on her naked shoulders, taking care not to bruise. "Nothing ever happened this evening. I gave you a ride home. That's it. If you ever say otherwise, I assure you, there will be consequences. Do -- you -- understand."
"I had a headache. You gave me a ride home. That's all that happened."
"Good." He kissed the corner of her mouth. Hillary twisted, trying to kiss him, but he wouldn't let her. She pouted some more. He did what he'd been aching to do: sucked her lower lip into his mouth and chewed on it. She moaned and stirred, learning more deeply what it meant to want.
Jacob pulled away from her and started to put the car in gear.
"Just one more thing, please!"
He looked over at her. "Yes?"
"I want you to look at my legs." She lifted the hem of her dress to reveal the tops of her stockings. Lace garters made a path leading under her dress. The trail beckoned.
Jake slipped a finger into the top of one stocking. Using only that finger, he felt along the underside of the garter, lifted it, and snapped it against her leg.
"Ow!"
"That didn't hurt, and you know it."
"I still want you to find out if I'm wearing panties."
Jake arched his brows and lightly teased her inner thigh with his fingertips. She spread her legs and leaned back. He gave her leg a little smack, rubbed the nylon stocking, and pulled the car away from the curb.
"You're a slut, Miss Fairchild."
"Not yet. But you could make me one."
"When do your parents expect you home?"
She laughed. "Like I care. They're out of town," she added at his stern look.
They drove on to his house. Hillary rested her hand lightly, possessively, on his inner thigh. He didn't push her away.
Once inside his home, he led her by the hand to his den. Hillary was surprised. She'd expected to see his bedroom.
The den was not lacking in romance. Jake had only himself to spend his money on, so despite being a public school teacher, he'd managed to outfit his quarters tastefully. The desk was a huge old thing from a by-gone era; the overstuffed leather armchair looked straight out of a nineteen-forties men's club. The lamps were heavy-looking brass. Old books lined one wall from floor to ceiling.
Hillary paused. The reality of what she was doing settled like a hawk on her arm: stunning in its close-up beauty, but weightier, more dangerous perhaps, than she had fully realized.
"Second thoughts, Miss Fairchild? I can still take you home."
"No. I want to be here."
"Very well. Have a seat." He gestured to a chair at the side of his desk, and took his place in the captain's chair.
Obediently Hillary sat and faced him. She crossed her ankles and leaned forward. The tip of her tongue moistened her lips.
Olaffsen cleared his throat. He opened a file that was lying on his desk. Hillary saw her high school mugshot clipped to the inside. "Miss ... Fairchild ..." he made his words ponderous, as if delivering a warning. He looked down the column of her grades.
"Yes?"
"You've been a bad girl."
Hillary didn't know whether to laugh with delight or hang her head in shame. She hesitated.
"Answer me."
"I've been bad," she admitted. She licked her lips again and shifted in her chair.
Jake fixed her with his gaze. "You know what the punishment is for bad girls."
Hillary swallowed. "Uh, a spanking?"
"That is correct, Miss Fairchild."
For a few seconds the girl could barely breathe. Her nipples were hardening under her dress. Color bloomed in her face.
Jake held out a hand to her. She took it and stood up with him.
"Put your hands on the desk, Miss Fairchild."
She did so, trembling with fear and anticipation.
"Now step backwards. Lean forward. Stick out your ass."
Hillary nearly hyperventilated. She did as he asked. Her breasts swung down and nearly fell out of her décolletage. For the third time she licked her lips.
"Feet shoulder width apart."
The teenage girl obeyed. She had pictured passionate love-making in her teacher's bed. She had never thought of this.
Jake leaned close to her ear. "Last chance to go home, Miss Fairchild."
She shook her head.
"I didn't hear you."
"I don't want to go home." The trembling in her ribcage was beginning to ache.
"Tell me what you are."
"I'm a bad girl."
"What else?"
"I'm a, a slut." Hillary gasped out her freedom.
"What do you want, slut?" he hissed.
"Spank me, I've been bad..."
Olaffsen opened a desk drawer and withdrew a wooden paddle.
"Count aloud, Miss Fairchild."
Whack! The paddle met the velvet. Hillary groaned.
"What did you say?"
"One," she ground out.
Whack! Olaffsen spanked her a little harder.
"Two!" Sweat gathered under her breasts and armpits.
Whack! Hillary staggered and gasped; she was breathing hard. "Three..."
Olaffsen judged she was ready for a short break. He put the paddle on the desk where she could see it.
"Do you know what you've done wrong, Miss Fairchild?" He rubbed his hands over her ass, soothing her skin beneath the velvet.
"Yes," she said in a tiny voice.
"Tell me."
"I've been, flirting with you, I've been, trying, to get you, to sleep with me..." Hill was nearly in tears from the mélange of passion, pain, and fresh hot desire.
He grasped the hem of her dress and lifted it halfway up her derrière. The creamy skin was rosy as a sunrise. Hillary swayed her rear, wanting more of his touch. He laid a hand on the back of her upper thigh. His thumb just tickled the base of her cheek.
"Is this what you want, Miss Fairchild?"
"Yes, I—!" The tickle broke her ability to speak. He stroked his other hand up and down her inner thigh, commuting the short distance from the top of her stocking to a point just below the base of her body. He avoided touching her sex.
"I want you to fuck me, oh god, please fuck me."
Olaffsen shoved her dress up to her waist. "No panties. Naughty girl." He admired the twin racing stripes of the black lace garters.
He swung his cupped hand down onto her naked ass. The slap surprised her and made her jump.
"Four!" she remembered.
"Very good, Miss Fairchild." He spanked her other cheek with equal care.
"Five!"
"Tell me again what you want."
"Please, please Mr. Olaffsen, fuck me."
"Let's see if you really mean it." He probed between her legs. Hillary groaned and backed against him, desperate as a mare in heat.
"Oh yes, oh, god yes," she panted.
Olaffsen pulled his finger from her radioactive core. He licked her juices from his fingertips.
"Are you really a virgin, Miss Fairchild? Remember, I'll know," he warned.
"Yes! Please, my arms are getting tired."
Immediately Jake moved to stand beside her. He saw her biceps were trembling with exhaustion as much as arousal.
"Here," he said kindly. He rearranged her limbs so her forearms rested on the desk. "Better?"
"Yes, sir."
"Just a little longer, Miss Fairchild."
He pulled a tube of ointment from the drawer and began soothing it over the red skin. Hillary groaned. A thick white drop of liquid slid down her inner thigh. Jake scooped it up with a fingertip and savored it. He fingered her a little more. "Oh, baby," he muttered.
Then he stood behind her and unzipped his pants. Hillary's head jerked up at the sound.
"Now?" she begged.
"You've been a good girl, Miss Fairchild. Yes, now. Spread your legs a little more."
She did so. The next sound she heard was a rustling of plastic.
"Open yourself ... show me your virgin pussy, Hillary..."
Her heart raced. Fresh energy lanced through her system. With both hands she reached around to her backside and obeyed.
"Ohhhhh, ... god, you're pretty..." Olaffsen feasted on the sight of the pink flesh accented with tiny gold curls. He guided the head of his dick to her entrance.
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