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What She Needs

by Frenulum

Copyright © 2006 Frenulum. All rights reserved.

The knock on the door was tentative and faint, but because he was expecting it, it did not escape his notice. He spoke without raising his head from the paperwork that occupied him. “Come in.”

There was a pause, almost long enough that he might begin to think that he had not been heard; then the knob turned and the door opened slowly. He continued to concentrate on his work, his desk lamp casting a cone of light over the assorted files and papers. The door closed; footsteps muffled by the oriental rug came closer, and the telltale spot on the floor creaked slightly just before she reached his desk.

He looked up, then, right at her face. Their eyes did not meet, as hers were downcast.

“April,” he said. “Have you something for me?”

Her hand trembling, the girl extended an envelope. He took it from her, leaning across the desk without rising, and looked at her for a moment. She was wearing the regulation uniform: a plain, white, button-front blouse; a pleated skirt in grey wool, the hem just above her knees; white cotton anklets; plain black flats. Her chestnut hair was center parted and gathered into two long, tightly-braided pigtails. Her face was beautiful and frightened.

He took a paper knife from a tray on his desk and slit open the envelope with a practiced, economical motion. He replaced the knife, took one sheet of paper from the envelope, unfolded it, and glanced at it briefly. It was as he expected.

“April.” He said her name again, this time with a slight trace of a regretful sigh. He pushed his chair back, rose, and walked around the desk to where she stood. “Your skirt, please.”

She spoke for the first time, still looking at the floor, her voice shaky and faint. “Yes, Headmaster.”

Her fingers fumbled briefly with the hook-and-eye closure on her waistband. When she had it open, she slid the zipper down, and stepped out of the skirt. She knew better than to hesitate, or to let her natural modesty prolong the disrobing. She held the skirt out to him, and he took it from her.

“Lower your panties to your knees, April.” His voice came from behind her.

“Yes, sir.”

She hooked her thumbs into the elastic waistband of her white cotton panties and slid them quickly down to her knees, bending at the waist and then straightening up when finished. She knew to keep her hands at her sides, despite an urgent wish to cover her private regions.

“Feet well apart, now, April.”

“Yes, sir.”

She shifted her weight and spread her legs. Her panties stretched across the gap, completing the capital A of her slender legs.

He came around from behind her, and took his seat at the desk again. He opened a drawer, searched briefly, and pulled out a file. Her school records, she knew. He opened it, moved a paper or two, and began to read.

Trembling with apprehension, the girl stood in her assigned pose, half naked. Her cheeks were pink with shame and embarassment. She still had not met his eye.

He turned a page. A clock somewhere in the room ticked softly, measuring off the last seconds remaining before — before — before it would happen. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, and felt the cool moisture of tears beginning to gather.

He closed the file, leaving it on the desk, and looked at her. Straight in front of him, at the apex of her long, feminine legs, was the narrow pink slit of her sex, framed by plump lips, below the rise of her smooth, hairless mound of Venus. Above, her figure was hard to discern beneath the starched white blouse. “If only she were here,” he thought, “Naked, spread, available, tempting, beckoning, for an entirely different reason.” But he knew better than to let the fantasy linger.

He looked at her face as she looked at the floor, or perhaps at his desk — he couldn’t tell.

“April, I’m extremely disappointed to see you here again. I had a hard time believing it, but your records are quite clear. This is the third time you’ve been sent to me in this term alone. The third time!”

She did not know if an answer was expected, and kept silent.

“I’ve been searching my memory,” he continued, “And I’m unable to recall any girl in any year being sent to me even twice in a term. Usually, the discipline that we conduct in this office is quite enough to ensure that a girl will stick to the straight and narrow path for a long time. A very long time indeed.”

He paused, thinking, drumming his fingers almost silently on the desk blotter.

“What am I to do with you, April?” he asked.

“I don’t know, sir,” she answered, nearly whispering.

“Our usual methods are clearly ineffective,” he went on, perhaps having heard her, perhaps not. “You were given a student handbook when you enrolled, April. Is it safe to assume that, like every other student, you have never so much as glanced at it?”

“No, sir. I mean, yes, sir, you’re right; no, I haven’t.” She spoke not to him but to the point in space that had been her focus since she entered.

“No. On the other hand, certain bits of policy seem to have found a way into the collective minds of the student body, even though nobody reads the handbook. For example, I expect that you are acquainted with the upper limits on corporal punishment that are set by school policy.”

She did not answer. There might have been a quick shake of her head, but he could not be certain.

“You are probably aware that I am limited by our policy to no more than six strokes of the cane, or to no more than twelve strokes of the paddle; is that correct, April?”

The girl swallowed hard. “Yes, sir.” Her voice sounded to be on the verge of sobbing.

“And yet, although those are very harsh punishments, and although you are far too well acquainted with them, here you are in my office for an unprecedented third time this term.” He picked up the folded paper she had brought him, glanced at it again, and dropped it back on the desk. “And three different teachers have sent you here, so it’s not the case that you’re being singled out in any way.”

He rose, pushing his chair back, and walked around the desk and behind the girl. The taut globes of her bare bottom looked sweet and sexy and inviting. What a shame this was going to be.

He brought an armless chair into the center of the room, leaving plenty of space all around it. “Come here, April,” he called.

The girl turned and shuffled awkwardly toward the chair, trying to keep her panties from slipping farther down her long legs. He sat down on the chair as she approached. “Lie over my lap,” he instructed. She bent over, putting her hands beside his leg on the chair, and lowered herself until her body was lying on his thighs, her proud, pert buttocks bent over his right leg. He helped her to get settled, adjusting the drape and position of her legs, spreading his own legs slightly to give her more support for her upper body.

He reached down with both hands and, placing one on each of her inner thighs just inches below her pussy, urged them apart. At the contact, and at the realization that she was now fully and intimately exposed to him, her face flamed.

He was satisified with her humiliating position. He could feel her small, hard breasts against his left leg; could see her ass and her thighs and the puffy lips of her cunt, naked and on display for him. Spreading her legs had parted her labia just enough that a tiny, tantalizing glimpse was offered of the tender pink paradise within.

“April,” he said, and the frightened girl gave a start. “As I said, it seems to be part of the student body’s general knowledge that six with the cane or twelve with the paddle is the fiercest punishment this office may administer. That is true. However, I think it is not general knowledge that there is no upper limit on the number of strokes I may give with my hand.”

At that, the girl gasped, and began to struggle to rise; he quelled her efforts with a firm left arm wrapped over her back and around her right side.

“Today, April, I will spank your bare bottom with my hand. There will be no limit. There will be no reprieve. I will spank you until I believe that you will abandon the misbehaviors that have brought you to this office three times in the last three months. In a very short time you will sincerely regret that I did not give you twelve with the paddle, because this spanking is going to be unimaginably worse. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.” He could not see her face, but when she spoke he could tell it was through tears.

“Why am I spanking you, April?”

“Because I misbehave so much.”

“Answer properly.”

“Because I misbehave so much, sir.”

“Yes. April, I’m not happy to be doing this to you, but I will be happy if the rest of the year goes by and the only time I see you is in a classroom, working hard at your lessons. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” she sobbed.

He rested his right hand on her right bun; the girl jumped again at the contact. Her delicate skin was soft and the muscle beneath it was taut and firm. Again the thought flitted through his mind, unbidden and unwanted: what a terrible waste of a really fine ass.

And then he spanked her.

His right hand rose and fell, rose and fell, his palm smacking over and over and over again against the sweet springy flesh of her bottom: smack! crack! whack! smack! spank!

The girl suffered in silence for the first half-dozen swats, but she was unable to continue. A cry was torn from her, and then another, and within seconds she was sobbing loudly, anguish and shame making her cries all the more plaintive.

Swat! Smack! Whack! Spank! Crack! Swat!

He worked back and forth, concentrating sometimes on one pert cheek, sometimes on the other, sometimes centering a blow between them, catching the delicate flesh that parted her derrierre. When the globes of her ass were a uniform pink, he traveled down a bit, letting the blows fall on the tender crease between cheek and thigh, or sometimes on her upper thighs alone.

The wails intensified, and sometimes he could make out words — mostly “Please!” or something like “I’ll behave!” or “I’ll be good!” It was difficult to be sure, because her sobbing was so deep, so consuming of breath.

Spank! Crack! Whack! Smack! Spank! Swat!

He went back to her bottom, and concentrated a series of a dozen sharp swats on the apex of each globe, centered smacks that didn’t move at all, driving the pain deep into her ass. Then he broadened his attack again, making sure not to miss a spot. He watched the pink grow to rose, and then red, and then scarlet; and in time his handprints showed as pale blooms fading back to crimson.

Whhhhaaaaaaaack! Smmmaaaaaaaack! Spaaaaaaaaank!

On and on the spanking went, without a hint of a promise that it would ever end. Every blow caused her keening to mount, every swat rippled through her bum. Her cheeks would barely stop quivering from one stinging spank before the next one arrived, piling on, echoing and multiplying pain throughout her tender rump.

Smaaaaaaack!! Spaaaaaaaaank!!! Whhhaaaaaaaaaaaaack!!!!!!

Finally. Finally, after seeming ages, he could hear her weeping take on the edge of hysteria. That was the point he could not go past. He let his hand fall by his side, as he looked at the girl on his lap.

Her chest was heaving as she continued to sob, fighting for breath. Her bottom was ablaze, hot to the touch, and the deep color spread from side to side and from crown to thigh. He could see light glistening off the delicate pink of her cunt, a telltale of moisture welling up inside. Had he not punished this girl before, he would have been astonished at the sight, an unmistakable sign of sexual excitement.

He rested, waiting, patient. He was suffused with relief that the ordeal was over — he had no illusion that his part had been the harder one, but an ordeal it had been nonetheless. He was acutely conscious of the girl’s body: of the press of her breasts, of the rise and fall of her back, of the mingled scents of shampoo and soap and pussy. He looked to his right: her panties were still on, just barely, looped around her left ankle. He waited several minutes, until the girl managed to get her crying under control. Her breathing was still harsh and uneven, but relatively quiet in the still of the office.

“Would you like to get up now, April?” he asked.

“P-Please, sir.”

She tried to climb off gracefully, but was too weakened by her spanking. He helped to lift her shoulders, as she slid to her knees by his side. He stood up, gave her a hand in each hand, and helped her to her feet. He bent, hooked the vacant leg of her panties with a finger, and stretched the opening so she could find it with her right foot; then he slid her panties high enough that she could reach them without bending far. With renewed embarassment, the girl pulled her panties up and back into place, gasping as the cotton fell against her ravaged bottom.

He offered her skirt to her; she took it, settled it gingerly around her waist, and did up the fasteners.

She looked at him then, meeting his eye for the first time.

“April, I hope we’ve accomplished something today.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I hope it’s quite a long time indeed before I see you in this office.” His gaze locked into hers. Softly and lovingly he added, “In fact, I’d be more than happy if we never went through this again.”

She was equally direct. “I’ll do my very best, sir. I’ll try as hard as I possibly can.”

They shared a silent look for a moment, understanding much, not understanding all.

“What do you say, April?”

“Thank you, sir. Thank you for spanking me.”

“Very well. You are dismissed.”

The girl turned and walked slowly, painstakingly, toward the door. In a moment she was gone, the click of the latch loud in the quiet room.

He returned to the desk and sat, staring out into the empty room. The sharp ring of his hand meeting her ass, and her anguished sobs, played back through his mind. He was aware, dimly, that his right hand and arm ached. He exhaled deeply. To the empty room he said, “I just wish...”

He stood and tucked the chair back under the desk. He picked up the file folder, and put it back in the drawer where it belonged, between “Vacations” and “Visa.” He gathered up the remaining assortment of papers and dropped them into the wastebasket. He put the spanking chair back in the dining room where it belonged. He opened the living room door and headed slowly upstairs to their bedroom.

His wife was just coming out of her walk-in closet, where she had hung up the schoolgirl outfit. She was nude except for the little white anklets. The combined effect of the girlish socks, her hairless mons, and the pigtail hair style was to make her look 16, instead of 26. She had washed her face, removing the messiest signs of weeping, but her eyes were still swollen and her face had more than its usual color.

His heart swelled with love for her. His cock began to thicken, for he knew how she liked to give, as she would say, “proper thanks.”

She came into his arms. She wrapped hers around him, squeezing, her face snuggled against his chest. He kissed her head, smelling her shampoo once again.

“Are you ok, April?” he asked, with genuine concern.

She looked up at him, reached up for a kiss, answered with the soft pressure of her lips. “I’m ok,” she assured him, when the kiss ended. “My poor little bottom hurts worse than I can possibly describe, which means you did just what I asked you to.”

“I really don’t —” he began.

“I know, honey, I know. We’ve been over this and over it. I don’t have any way to make you understand. I don’t completely know myself. But it’s what I need. I know how hard it is for you, and I’m desperately, achingly grateful that you give me what I need despite all your reservations. You did the right thing, you helped me with what I need. It’s ok, honey, really, it is.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s just — I mean —”

“Shh, stop fretting.” She reached between them, and stroked his half-hard cock through the grey flannel trousers he had worn as schoolmaster. “Why don’t you let me show you how happy and grateful I am for my spanking?” She gave him a smile that managed to be girlishly pretty and heart-stoppingly seductive at the same time.

“I’m not silly enough to turn down an offer like that,” he replied.

She sank gracefully to her knees in front of him, and started working on his belt. “Why don’t you slip out of the jacket and tie?” she encouraged, and he quickly complied. She soon had him bare below the waist, and shortly after that his shirt followed the jacket and tie to a heap on the bedroom floor. “Sit,” she urged, and he sank into an armchair.

She knelt between his widespread legs and, eyes firmly on his, lifted his hardon and began to lick it. She swept its surface with her tongue and lips, slickening the tool, making it glisten, teasing with her delicate touch. She could do this forever, and knew that he could stand it for only a few minutes.

“Oh, suck it, April. Suck my cock.”

“Yes, Headmaster,” she said playfully in her schoolgirl voice. She sank his rigid cock into her mouth, more slowly than he could believe, until her lips ringed him right at the ridge of his cockhead. She played her tongue over the spongy surface, tickling his cumhole and stroking softly at the sensitive underside. She idly ran her fingers up and down his shaft, dancing more than stroking.

“Oh, that’s so good,” he moaned.

She sucked for a while, then popped his hard cock out of her mouth and resumed the lollipop treatment. “Did the role-playing help?” she asked, and then went down to give his balls some tender licking and sucking.

“Um. Uh... yes, it did, I —” It was hard for him to concentrate on his answer while her tongue swept up and down the length of his prick. “It, um, sort of... took me away from myself, I guess, to play a part like that... and... oh, that’s nice... um, I guess I felt less like I was... you know, hurting you.” He tried to be patient, and failed. “April, you’re driving me crazy, suck it now, suck me.”

With the very tip of his cock between her lips she replied, “But I like to drive you crazy!” Before he could protest she went down on him, sliding his rock-hard cock into her mouth as far as she could, her tongue sweeping its way down his shaft as it disappeared into her face. He groaned in unalloyed pleasure. She began sucking him piston-like, bobbing her head up and down his cockshaft, sinking it into her head and then coming up almost to the point of releasing it. Her tongue was never idle, and she kept her lips tight around head and shaft to stroke him as he loved.

Either he thrust toward her, or she moved too low, but at one point his cock hit the back of her throat. She gagged, her eyes widening, and she had to pull off of his cock to recover. She stroked the spit-coated rod with one hand.

“That was pretty clever,” she said, when she’d regained her composure. “That bit about the cane and the paddle, and the school rules and all. Did you think of that ahead of time?” She started sucking again, a little more carefully.

“Um, no... while I was sitting there, pretending to review your records, it kind of just occured to me.”

She popped him out once again. “I won’t ever ask for anything but your hand.”

“You could never convince me to hit you with... with a thing. It took you two years to persuade me to spank you at all.”

“I remember.” She lowered her head again to give his balls another loving wash. “Honey?”


“I’m really, really, really grateful. I want to show you how much.”

“Less talk and more blow-job would be a good start,” he said with a grin.

She gave him half a dozen good strong sucks just to placate him. “What I mean is...” Suck. Suck. Suck. Suck. “I left the pigtails in...” Suck. Suck. Suck. “For a reason.” Suck. Suck. Suck.

His sex-distracted brain took a moment to process that. She knew the instant he understood her, because his cock jumped in her mouth.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Mmmm hmmmm,” she replied, without slowing her sensual bobbing on his prick.

“Last time, you — it wasn’t comfortable.”

She pulled off him. She gave him her patented no-nonsense-I-mean-this look. “Do it. Do it to me. I want it. Fuck my face. Fuck it hard and fast and deep. C’mon, honey, fuck me in the face.”

She slipped her mouth back over his cock, feeling his heartbeat pulsing in his dick as it pressed against her tongue. She put her hands behind her back, holding one wrist in the other hand, showing him that she would submit to him without resistance.

He stood up. She rose on her knees to keep her mouth level with his prick, and captured it between her lips again. Hesitantly, he reached out, and took one braid in each hand.

He began to pump her mouth, slowly, using his grip on her hair not so much to move her head but to hold it immobile against his thrusts. He kept his eyes on hers, slowly coming to accept that the devotion in her gaze was genuine. As he ramped nearer to climax, his cockthrusts became longer, pulling out farther and ramming in deeper. Gradually, without realizing it, he began to pull her head forward and back, adding the motion of her head as a counterpoint to the pumping of his cock.

He thrust deep, hit her gag point. He saw the reaction in her throat and in her eyes, but her hands stayed clasped behind her and she made a faint “mmm hmmm” sound to encourage him. He fucked her face, thrusting his rigid pole into her mouth and against the back of her throat, gagging his beloved with every powerful plunging stroke. Saliva began to pour out of her mouth with every out-stroke, running in torrents down his shaft and dripping off his balls onto her legs where she knelt below him.

“Getting close!” he gasped.

He fucked into her mouth and throat, the tempo ever increasing. She was gagging every time, adding a “ggggk gggkkk ggkkgkk” sound to match his rhythm. She felt his hands grip harder on her braids, felt the sharp prickle at her scalp as he pulled her hair. His cock powered into her mouth and her head was yanked forward to bury it in her throat; his cock receded and her head was pushed back to bring the agile probing of her tongue directly to bear on his most sensitive spot. His prick was awash; her chin and her breasts and her legs were covered in spit.

Faster still, faster, faster, fucking her face, fucking her head, pulling on the reins of her pigtails, yanking her head back and forth, thrusting, gagging her. Fresh tears, induced by the choking sensation, ran down her cheeks. She suddenly tasted him, and knew that the semen was beginning to boil over, knew it was time.

He felt it. He speared her once more, deeply, to her absolute limit, and then backed off, holding her head completely still again and taking short, almost frantic strokes just inside her mouth, letting her lips and tongue do the final work of triggering him.

Cum boiled out of his cock and filled her mouth. She sealed her lips even tighter, and swirled her cummy tongue under his prick to coax out even more. His first hard shot fired, then the second, then a third, fire-hose blasts that she could feel splashing and splattering off her teeth, tongue, and palate. Her mouth welled full of steaming white spunk; her tongue was so coated with jizz that she felt the friction decrease between it and his cock, which still rocked in and out of her lips. The cum-coated shaft kept smearing her lips with semen, and the accumulation of it on her lips began to meander down her chin.

He continued to pump, not in spurts but in thick oozing globs of spunk, over and over, until at last he was drained and her mouth was a lake of cum. She had never taken her eyes off his, and now he watched her as she carefully and deliberately swallowed his massive cum load.

She let him slip out of her mouth. She wiped the head of his cock through the runoff on her chin, smearing it up and across her lips and back again through the ooze, using his cum like an erotic lip gloss. She opened her mouth, and strings of cum joined her upper and lower lips, only to be snapped as she sucked him in again, cleaning cum off his dickhead with her probing tongue. Backing off, she swept her tongue around her lips, collecting any dividends she could find, and swallowed the last salty drops. Then she went down on him again, being gentle, bobbing slowly and shallowly over his cock, letting him come down gradually from his climax. Her reward was one last dribble of jizz, just before she felt him finally start to soften.

He pulled out of her mouth and reached down to help her off her knees. She put her arms up and around him and embraced him again as she rose, nestling her head against his chest, enjoying the feel of his arms and his body and the still-hard cock trapped against her tummy; of his breath on the top of her head.

“That was beautiful,” he said. Then, concerned again, he added “I hope that wasn’t too rough — are you all right?”

“Mmm hmm. It was better than last time. I didn’t feel like I was gonna urp,” she answered. “One of these days maybe I’ll be able to take you all the way down.”

“You don’t have to — I’m way more than happy already.”

“Want to try, though.” She looked up at him with a sudden smile. “Hey, a girl’s gotta have a goal in life, y’know!”

“Beyond being the absolutely certifiably gold-medal A-number-one premium-edition best cocksucker on planet Earth?”

She laughed. “You think?”

“No contest.”

She turned and took a few steps away from him, toward the closet, peeling off her anklets. It was his first direct view of her bottom, and its fiery color gave him a fresh shock of concern. She dropped the socks in a hamper, came back out to their bed, and carefully lay face down on it, patting the space beside her in invitation. He joined her, lying supine beside her, and she wiggled up to snuggle against him, resting her head in the crook of his arm.

“April — are you sure you don’t want...?”

She understood. “No. I’m fine. I’ve had all the attention I want for today.”

“But — but I can tell that you get, well, wet. Aren’t you... I don’t know, frustrated? Not to have me do something for you?”

She stretched an arm across him, stroking his shoulder with her hand. “No. The spanking is... completion. It’s, I guess, a kind of climax of its own. I know I get a little juicy but... I think that’s just my pussy getting confused. Heaven knows I’m confused enough, I suppose it’s natural for my body to be.”

They were silent for a long stretch.

“Did I ever tell you,” she said, “About the first time my parents ever left me alone in the house?”

“I don’t think so,” he replied.

“I think I was twelve, maybe thirteen. Anyhow, you know what I did when I could finally be sure nobody would see me?”

“Raid the liquor cabinet?” he asked jokingly.

“Well, that’s probably a pretty typical thing, but no. I got the family dictionary, and I took it into my bedroom, and took off my clothes, and got into bed. And then I looked up ‘spank’ in the dictionary, and read it over and over while I played with myself. I had my first orgasm ever, looking up spanking in the dictionary.”

There was another long silence. She continued, “I don’t know, maybe there is something connected in me between sex and spanking. Maybe they’re... parallel or something. But... anyway, honey, that’s how long I’ve needed it. Since I was little. Thank you so much for giving me what I need, I love you I love you I love you.”

She slipped out of their embrace, crawled lower on the bed, and repositioned herself with her head between his legs.

“Got any more cum for me?” she asked, nuzzling his sticky cock with the tip of her nose.

“What’s mine is yours.”

She prided herself on the variety of her cocksucking skills, but knew that what would work best now would be a slow, simple, basic suckjob. She propped herself up on her elbows, cupped his balls in her warm hands, and took his cock into her mouth.

She moved slowly up and down the shaft, feeling it come back to full hardness inside her. She kept her tempo calm, her motions smooth, letting the slippery friction of her lips do most of the work, as her tongue provided the necessary moisture. She knew that it would take a while, so soon after his first orgasm, and brought him gradually up a gentle grade of arousal. Up, down, up, down, slow and careful, slow and gentle, slow and sensual — no tricks, no fancy tongue work, nothing startling. Slowly, slowly up the hill from rest, to arousal, to passion, to urgency, to climax. The minutes passed quietly, his hand caressing her head as her soft lips stroked his thick cock.

He came in her mouth for the second time, shuddering in release, moaning wordlessly. The hot, viscous cum flowed from his cock in half a dozen soft spurts, filling her mouth with her favorite flavor and her soul with deep satisfaction.

She waited until his body relaxed, and then let his softening prick slip from her mouth, pressing her lips together so as not to waste any of his nectar. She moved back up the bed and into his embrace once more. He lay with his eyes closed, softly stroking her hair. She kept the load of semen in her mouth, savoring its musky scent and bitter flavor, hoping it would be a while before the need to speak would require her to swallow it.

They lay entwined as the late twilight turned to full darkness, neither wanting to move. Tomorrow, she knew, the pain in her bottom would be dull and throbbing, but now it was still a crackling blaze, bright and hot and satisfying. It had been her third spanking since she had finally overcome his reluctance, and it had been the best one yet. She wondered idly if it would be satisfying to repeat the schoolgirl scene, or if they should concoct another. Maybe a secretary who makes a disastrous, costly typo? A slight smile appeared on her cum-slick lips. Well, something would occur to her.

She stirred in his arms and sighed happily. She’d had a long, hard spanking. She had a mouthful of his beautiful cum. And she had him.

She had everything she needed.

Author’s notes on What She Needs

The “headmaster spanks naughty schoolgirl” plot line is a cliché of spanking literature, so when I got the bug to write such a story I thought I’d give it a bit of a twist. In this case, of course, letting you catch on only after the spanking that all was not as it seemed.

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