Erotica - Charlotte's Troubles - Chapter 1
Schooled
The headmaster sat at his desk grading papers, unaware of the presence in the room. He was more than a little absent-minded.
“Achoo!”
Even at this, he initially failed to look up. It was only when it dawned on him that class had been dismissed some fifteen minutes earlier that he decided to raise his head and investigate.
“Charlotte?”
“Yes, Sir?”
“It's after three.”
“Yes, Sir,” she agreed, offering no more.
“Did I assign you punishment? It's hardly likely, as you're the most well-behaved student I have.”
“No, Sir.”
He creased his brow and attempted to grade another paper. Charlotte, was his oldest and most voluptuous student. At the same time, she seemed to be the most innocent and naive. His mind kept returning to her, somehow both invisible and a looming presence at the same time. It was a lost cause. There was no way he could work under these conditions. None. He began to gather his work, intending to finish the rest at home by candlelight.
“Charlotte, would you like a ride? I'm afraid I have duties elsewhere.”
“Oh, yes Sir!” she said, with a surprising amount of enthusiasm.
“Very well. Come,” he said, and proffered his elbow.
She held it daintily, but with a certain amount of pressure. Harmless, he thought. Innocent. He dismissed his thoughts as pure imagination.
At the carriage, he stopped to help her aboard.
“Charlotte...”
“Yes, Sir?”
“Where do you want me to take you?”
“Wherever you want to, Sir.”
She said this without any special emphasis, as though she was referring to cleaning erasers, or emptying a wastebasket. He headed toward the farm road that led to their corner of the village, that the fresh air would bring him to his senses. When he turned to look at her, he caught her eyes upon him, and she returned to her in-depth survey of her own lap.
“Isn't the countryside beautiful in the evening, Charlotte?”
“Yes, Sir. It is,” she agreed.
“But not, I should say, as beautiful as you yourself are.”
He face flushed red.
“Thank you, Sir.”
There was something about her demeanor. All women, he knew, were respectful, polite. Even somewhat acquiescent. But that was not the feeling her got from her at all. There had to be a way to test his theorem. A safe way. He turned down a branch road that essentially led to fallow farmland.
“Charlotte, open your blouse.” he commanded her. So much for being subtle and cautious. He could scarcely believe what he had just said.
“Yes, Sir,” she said, blushing again. And then she unlaced her bodice, presenting two snowy white breasts topped with red and hardening nipples.
He momentarily dropped the reins.
“Do you find this acceptable, Sir?”
“Yes, Charlotte. Very good.”
She ducked down, very close to him, and retrieved them, resting her considerable chest on his leg as she did so.
“May I be of more service to you, Sir?”
“Woah!” he called out, stopping the horses.
“Did I say something wrong, Sir?”
He ignored her remark, and turned to face her. Maintaining eye contact, he moved his mouth to one of her nipples.
She smiled. “Thank you, Sir.”
She was so sweet. So why did he want to...hurt her? He sucked harder on her nipple, starting to maul and pinch the other in unison. Heat rose from her body in waves, warming his face. Her response was to lay her head back and emit a light moan. In fact, the more he pulled and sucked, the more blissful she seemed to grow. To test his theory, he gave her a small bite, and then took his mouth off of her.
“Charlotte?”
“Yes, Sir?” she said, not opening her eyes.
He slapped the top of her tit hard, leaving a red handprint.
“Mmmm, thank you, Sir. May I suggest the riding crop?”
Driven past the point of reason, he grabbed it from the floorboard between them and unleashed a flurry of increasingly painful blows.
She accented each with a word. “Thank. You. Sir. Harder. Please. Sir.”
Harder? He was becoming slightly frightened. This would be the end of his teaching career, to be sure. He began to worry about leaving marks on her, although she seemed utterly unconcerned with the world, other than being his pleasure at this moment in time. He placed her hand on his now hard cock through his pants.
“Charlotte, do you know what this is?”
“A reward for good girls, sir? Or perhaps a punishment for bad girls?”
“I suppose it's both. But how can one punish a bad girl?”
“By denying her, Sir.”
That was the last straw. He was convinced that she knew exactly what she was doing, and that was enough to make his lose what was left of his tattered resolve. He walked around the carriage and removed a picnic blanket from the rear storage area. On her side, he opened the door.
“Give me your hands,”
“Yes, Sir,” she said, instantly, and put them together in front of her.
He frowned, unsure of himself, at this stage. One simply didn't treat women like this. Charlotte, as if reading his mind, smiled. He removed his belt slowly, his eyes following hers. Her smiled wavered. Began to shrink.
“You, Charlotte,” he said, testing the waters. Whether his or hers, he was unsure. “Are a very bad girl.”
“Yes, Sir,” she said, closing her eyes and sobbing slightly.
He looped the leather around her wrists individually, and then both together, stopping each time to take up the slack. By the time he secured the buckle, twin trails of tears were making their way down her cheeks. He pulled her out by her wrists, after helping her turn and get her feet out. It was oddly gentlemanly. He locked gazes with her, and slowly raised her arms above her head. He moved in close to her, and she knew what was coming.
“Please, Sir... I've never...kissed.”
He pulled her arms down behind her head until she gasped. And then he kissed her, mauling her tits as he forced his tongue into her mouth. The loss of control overwhelmed her, and her body shuddered. He pulled and stretched as she adapted to his insistent kiss until she began to squirm her hips against his. Abruptly, he cut it short, leaving her chasing him with her mouth. He raised her arms back above her head.
“Turn.”
Understanding, she slowly rotated as he took in the essential beauty of her figure. But when she faced away from him, he leaned her forward, back into the carriage.
“Crawl,” he instructed, and lifted her knee onto the seat.
It was difficult, her hands being suspended so, and the belt became more than a little uncomfortable. When she had reached the opposite door, and both of her knees were on the cushion, he slipped the belt over the outside latch and let go.
“Sir...” she started to say.
Even through her cotton dress, light though it was, and her slip, it was easily the most stinging pain she had ever encountered.
“Thank you, Sir,” she said, sobbing.
He uncovered her panty-less bottom.
“Head down,” he told her.
“Yes, Sir.”
Already, she was exposing more of herself than anyone had ever seen. He sensed it as well.
“Spread,” he said, not even finishing the sentence. It was all the instruction she needed, however, and she dutifully spread her knees as far s the seat would allow.
“Yes, Sir...”
She genuinely panicked when she felt him kiss the back of her legs, and tried in vain to get away. It seemed a curious reaction.
“Please, Sir...no...”
That was a mistake. His tongue speared her clit, and he delivered a series of lashes with the riding crop, punctuating each word.
“Don't...tell...me...no.”
“Ahh! Yes, Sir. I mean, No, Sir! I mean Yes, Sir.”
She was orgasming, in complete loss of her faculties. Worse yet, he didn't stop soon enough, eliciting a secondary series of throes, and causing her to quiver and spasm. It was a glory to behold. He took out his cock, and strongly considered swiping it up and down her leaking and swollen pussy. Instead, he leaned over her, kissed her cheek, and released her.
“Thank, you, Sir...” she whispered.
“Time to go, Charlotte,” he said.
“Sir?”
“Yes?”
“May I...kneel?”
He understood and took this in in silence. Then, decisively, he spread the blanket out, leaving it folded in half, and look her by the hand.
“Charlotte?”
“Yes, Sir?”
“Kneel.”
“With pleasure, Sir,” she said.
He considered the possibility that the lack of “Yes, Sir,” was a punishable offense, and then dismissed the idea. Mere semantics. A grammatical construct. Then all thought left his mind. She began kissing his cockhead, and rubbing it on her face. Her tongue dragged up the length of his shaft from bottom to top. She popped the end of it into her mouth, and popped it back out with a cartoony sound. And she was just getting started.
But when she slid her mouth down past the middle, and kept on going, it was too much to take. By the time she had taken his head into her rather too small throat, he was coming. His hands forced her head down deeper, until her nose touched his stomach, and he began to slide in and out of her, filling her mouth and throat until what she didn't swallow ran out of her lips. When he could bear it no longer, he pulled it out, and she tickled him with her tongue as he did so. Then she looked at him, beaming, and wiped some off of her chin into her mouth.
“May I clean you, Sir?”
He would have agreed to anything, at that point.
“Yes, Charlotte. You may.”
As much as he wanted to watch her, he was spent. He leaned his head back and was lost in the bliss of the moment he had just experienced. That such pleasures even existed! Charlotte licked the rest of the cum off of him with an unhurried attitude. But his head picked back up when he felt her tongue on his balls. When she tried to go even further down, he had to stop her.
“Enough, Charlotte. Good girl.”
She made no attempt to hide her disappointment, but her reply was melodic and proper, all the same.
“Yes, Sir.”
“And see me after class tomorrow.”
###
But the next day didn't go anything as planned, seeing as how he had given little thought to the school day itself. Indeed, he had thought of nothing else. His first indication was when he came to class. Intending to pay her no notice, he placed his study materials on the desk, and noticed an apple. A particularly shriveled and worm-eaten apple, unfit for consumption. Charlotte giggled. He spared her a glance, and saw the top button of her dress was unbuttoned.
He looked away.
Throughout the day, her subdued laughter peppered the classroom, giving the room an unruly air, and raising his ire. Finally, he was forced to reprimand her.
“Charlotte, you're to stay for punishment today. Your behavior is atrocious.”
“Yes, Sir.”
She settled down a bit, and looked at her primer. But inside, she was ablaze. By the end of the day, the atmosphere was tense. In fact, her obedient silence became worrisome. He began to see her as dangerous simmering coals, innocuous in appearance, but capable of starting great fires, not given the proper attention.
At five, the room emptied, and Charlotte sat looking at him. Her gaze didn't waver, even when he gave her notice. Turning his attention back to his work, he said, “I'll deal with you shortly, Charlotte. Frankly, your behavior was deplorable.”
“Yes, Sir.” she said.
When next he looked at her, her dress was above her knees.
Already, he could take no more.
“Charlotte. Come here at once.”
His voice was curt, betraying only a hint of vexation.
“Yes, Sir.”
She rose slowly, walked over, and stood beside him. Her palms rested lightly against her thighs. It was torture, how badly she wanted to climb into his lap, to jump into his arms.
“Do you know why you're to be punished today. Charlotte?”
“Yes, Sir,” she said, offering no more than was asked of her.
“Tell me,” he said, and turned to look her in the eyes.
It was a position she found most uncomfortable.
“The...the apple.”
“Yes.”
“Unruly behavior.”
“Correct.”
She stopped, unsure if 'unruly behavior' covered her multitudinous sins.
“And...?”
“Sir?”
“Mockery...”
A small, dull panic began to encompass her. Somehow she knew this was the worst offense. Other than refusal, of course. She could never refuse him.
He plucked at the top of her dress.
“Get these out.”
“My breasts, sir?”
“Decent ladies have breasts, Charlotte. You have tits. Get your tits out.”
“Yes, Sir,” she said, and began to unlace her top. He face felt hot with the new level of arousal she was feeling.
“Do you like them, Sir?”
She shook them a bit for emphasis.
She shook them a bit for emphasis.
“Do I like what, Charlotte?” he said, unlacing his shoes.
“My, tits, Sir...” she said, trying out the new words, and daring to go farther. “My big whore tits...”
She confounded him so, he could scarcely complete the simple task of removing his shoes. He had initially worried about corrupting her. Now he was in danger of being corrupted himself, it seemed. In an effort to regain his senses, he said, “Kneel.”
Before the word was fully out of his mouth, she was on her knees, backside resting on her legs. She hiked her skirt up halfway and averted her eyes, again placing her palms against her thighs.
“Yes, Sir,” she said.
It took every bit of his restraint to not simply unfasten his pants and give her what she so obviously wanted. The day before, her every pore broadcast her utter pleasure. But when she was on her knees, her face glowed with such sublime joy that it was almost difficult to behold.
“Closer to the desk..”
She moved, and waited for further instruction.
He took the first of his shoelaces, and pulled it tight around one of her breasts, tying it roughly. It began to change from alabaster white to dark pink almost instantly, and she moaned. “Please...”
Charlotte was unsure of what she was even asking for. By the time he had tied the other, she was in her own world. Eyes closed, he mouth hung open. She drooled slightly, paying no attention to that fact whatsoever. She did peek when he stood open. She had hoped to have her mouth and throat stuffed again. It made her spasm up and down her entire body. She wondered if he understood the phenomenon. To her regret, he grabbed the pointer from the chalkboard, instead.
“Place your tits on the desk, Charlotte.”
“Yes, Sir,” she said, starting to sob. Not from the expectation of punishment, but from the belief that she had transgressed.
She raised herself above the desktop, and then settled down slowly, in order to inflict as little pain as possible on her swollen chest.
“Will you play pranks again, Charlotte?”
“No, Sir!” she said at volume.
The pointer came down across her creamy flesh, leaving dual red welts stretched across her in a perfect line.
“Please, Sir!” She was sobbing uncontrollably.
“Will you misbehave?”
“No! No, Sir! Please, Sir!”
Again, her brought the pointer down, with considerably more force this time. Tears leapt from her eyes as she wept openly. It was the third blow she feared.
“Will you mock me ever again?”
“No, Sir! I swear I won't, Sir, ever!”
He wiped her brow.
“Charlotte, you know what I must do, don't you?”
“Y-yes, Sir.”
She did. It had to be done. It was the only way she would learn. The third swat caused her to scream, and she began to leak down her thighs. He leaned over and kissed the top of her head most tenderly, and her lamentations began to quell.
“Up,” he said, swatting her bottom.
She raised only her bottom half, having never been released from her position. He raised her skirt to find only a slip, and her bare young ass. She almost tried to crawl away when she felt his fingers around her...bum. He spread it roughly with his fingers, and it burned slightly. This had never even been something she could have imagined. Most degrading of all, she knew he was looking at her. Her juices began to flow faster, and he shoved her forward across the desk, where she lay flat against it, leaving her most vulnerable areas fully exposed for his inspection.
“You're a lovely girl, Charlotte,” he said in sincerity.
“Thank you, Sir,” she said brightly, all hint of her tears gone.
Three swift strikes to her bottom with the forgotten pointer made her eyes open wide, happening so fast, she could scarcely react at all. All she could manage was a single cry loud cry before she caught herself and went silent again. He walked over to her face, and raised it to his own, kissing her lips with the perfect amount of force and gentleness.
“Don't tell me no, Charlotte.”
“No, Sir!” She said.
“Good girl.”
He pulled himself out of his trousers.
“You're to clean the blackboard.”
“Yes, Sir,” she said, eager to serve. He indicated the pail and washcloth that sat on the floor near the corner of it.
Without having been ordered, she merely looked and acknowledged. He placed her hand on his cock, where it was desperate to be, and she became instantly more contented, any possible agitation or anxiety melting away.
“You're to keep your hand there, if nothing else, at all times, unless told otherwise. Do you understand?”
“Oh, yes, Sir!” she said in earnest. To be ordered to keep contact with him at all times. Such license! Charlotte's heart could scarcely be contained.
She knew it was a small trap he had laid for her, when a moment later, he began to walk toward the board, forcing her to follow on her knees across the rough wooden floor or make the mistake of breaking contact with him. And she didn't feel she could afford any mistakes at this point.
“Stand and face the board.”
“Yes, Sir.”
She did, her hand never leaving his now swollen member. He shoved her forward roughly until her breasts were flattened against the dirty chalkboard. The white chalk showed brightly on her throbbing red tits, giving them the appearance of raspberry doughnuts covered in powdered sugar.
He placed the wet rag in her left hand, and raised it to the board above her head.
“Clean it. Now,” he said. “Left to right, top to bottom.”
She struggled to obey, leaving a clean wet surface above her as she moved, and the twin trails her chest left behind as her nippled began to be rubbed raw. When she began her third pass, she tried to lean down a bit in order to better reach.
“Kneel.”
It was her single favorite word, and she instantly dropped back onto her sore knees. He placed his cock in her mouth. Not only in her mouth, but down her throat, to the hilt. He held her head tightly with one hand, and caressed it in a tender manner with the other. Charlotte was ecstatic. Slowly, they made their way across the final pass, and she got to try many of the things she had been thinking of the night before in lieu of sleep.
When she had reached the last inch of the board, she dropped the rag on the ground. With one hand, she gripped his cock hard and stroked it furiously at her open mouth, while her other hand held him close to her. Her mouth was open wide, long hanging out, and the look in her eyes was almost crazed.
“Feed me, Sir! Please, Sir! Feed me...Master!”
Her audacity overloaded his senses, causing him to empty himself onto her broad, cupped tongue, until it held a visible pool. He wiped it across her face, and she smiled, never moving her tongue until he was done. When he had, she closed her mouth and slowly drank him down. Without being directed, she took him back into her mouth and licked the end of him with vigor, deliberately ticking him beyond belief.
“You, Charlotte,” he said, exhausted, “are a brat...”
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