by Boston Blackie
Headmaster Jones Punishes Sandrine
What A Difference A Day Makes!
College had just gotten done for the day and Sandrine walked casually down the empty corridor to the Headmaster’s office. She had recieved a note asking her to report to the Headmaster, and now she began to idly wonder what it might be all about. She assumed it would probably be some well meaning, but stuffy lecture on increasing school morale and efficiency. She hoped it wouldn’t take too long since she was in a hurry to get ready for another of her girl’s nights out down at the Barbican. She smiled to herself, thinking of what fun they would have flirting with the young men and teasing them.
Sandrine then remembered having involuntarily smiled at the new Headmaster, Stanley Jones, behind her hand when he was first introduced at a staff meeting two weeks before. He looked like such a silly old man, pudgy, thinning hair, almost 50.
She knocked at the Headmaster’s door, and heard “come” spoken from within. When she entered, Headmaster Jones rose from behind his desk, greeted her gravely and asked her to be seated.
Looking her straight in the eye, Headmaster Jones falteringly began by telling Sandrine that, unfortunately, he had to discuss some matters of great delicacy and sensitivity with her. “I’ve been looking at your file, Miss Débrouillard, and I’ve found that you have a really sterling record of performance here at the school. And that’s why its partucularly painful for me to have to discuss the following matters with you. But I know that you are basically a good girl and that you will try to make the best of trying circumstances, and will do whatever is required of you.”
Sandrine began to get increasing alarmed at the tone and direction of this talk. Her palms began to sweat and she began to wonder if she was about to be sacked, although she couldn’t think of what in world that she could have done to bring that down on her.
Headmaster Jones then continued by telling her that he had had spyware installed on all the school PC’s and that it had come to his attention that she has been using the school PC’s to exchange pornograhic and salacious emails.
“If this got out we’d have no choice but to sack you, Miss Débrouillard. You must be aware that such a dismissal can have very grave consequences on a young person’s career. Very grave, indeed.”
Sandrine was totally gobsmacked by this revelation and just sat there, staring at the Headmaster in stunned silence. At this point, the tension in the office was almost palpable, and Sandrine felt the room closing in on her and began to find it a little difficult to breath evenly.
The Headmaster, who had been watching her closely, seemed to take satisfaction in her state of alarm and terror. He allowed a cruel smirk to play about the corners of his mouth. “Of course, Miss Débrouillard, I’m quite prepared to make allowances. After all, it would be a shame to lose a teacher of your caliber and accomplishment, simply because of a fairly minor on-line indiscetion. But, on the other hand, you must appreciate my position. I can’t just overlook this misbehavior of yours. I have to think of the bad precedent, the bad example it would set for all school staff in future.”
“Fortunately,” continued the Headmaster, “I’ve had some experience with this sort of thing before and have hit upon an ideal way of smoothing things over. As you may be aware, I’m a widower, and no longer have easy access to female companionship.” At this point, he leaned back in his chair and allowed an lewd leering expression to show nakedly on his face, “so, I’ve found that the best way to resolve this and to prove your sincere penitence would be for you to provide me with some much needed sexual relief with your mouth.”
Sandrine almost fainted when she heard that, and she watched in horror and disbelief as the Headmaster, suiting his actions to his words, rose from his chair and pulled down his trowers and y-fronts, exposing a long fleshy erection. He sat back down and beckoned her to come around behind his desk and motioned for her to get down on her knees between his legs.
Sandrine moved as if in a trance, and she felt her cheeks become fiercely hot with shame and humiliation as she did as she was told and knelt between his legs. She noticed that a large bead of liquid arousal already stood out from the tip of his cock and she concluded that he must have had a strong erection for some time, probably from before she even entered the room. “Go on, dear,” he urged, “take it in your mouth, there’s a dear.” She brought her mouth closer and noticed his pudgy thighs and the gentle swell of his paunch. Her nose crinkled with distaste as she smelled his musty old-man smell which was mixed with a slight trace of piss. She took the end of his cock into her mouth and almost choked. He brought his hands down to hold her head, to keep her from withdrawing, and spoke to her in a soft soothing voice. Soon, she had almost forgotton her repugnance and was sucking away with her usual enthusiasm for the act.
As Headmaster Jones looked down at her head, with its long soft brown tresses, her lips in an oval encircling his throbbing cock, her head bobbing slowly and deliberately up and down, he began to surrender to the waves of pleasure that were carrying him away. “Oh Miss Débrouillard! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh Sandrine! Oh! May I call you Sandrine? Oh! Oh, that feels so good! Oh yes, yes, work your tongue on my shaft! Oh baby! Oh Sandrine, oh yes! Oh! Where did you learn to do that thing with your tongue on my cockhead? Oh! Yes, its exquisite! Oh! Oh, you’re tickling my balls with your fingers! Oh!”
By then, Sandrine’s initial repugnance had turned to agressive abandon. She had surrendered herself completely to performing the degrading act on the pudgy, funny smelling near-pensioner. Headmaster Jones began to feel the crisis approaching and began to whimper and moan and babbled “Oh baby! Oh, Sandrine! Oh yes! I can feel it coming on! I’m almost there! Oh you’re such a sweet girl! Such a good girl! So good and obedient! So very good to be giving me this great pleasure!”
As Headmaster Jones felt his orgasm beginning to build, he closed his hands tightly around Sandrine’s head, and held it firm, to ensure that she would unable to pull away when the spurting began. Sure enough, when he began to spurt, he heard her gasp and splutter and felt her make a desparate effort to pull her head away. He chuckled a low satisfied laugh as he grunted, held her head firmly with his cock embedded down her throat and spurted again and again down her sweet throat, all of which she was forced to swallow to keep from choking.
He finally released his vice-like grip after he felt the last dribble of his manhood ooze out of his cock and into her mouth, and his cock began to deflate. He leaned back in his chair, reached over on his desk and grabbed a handful of Kleenex, which he handed to Sandrine as she got unsteadily to her feet. “Here, wipe yourself with these,” he said, somewhat condescendingly. Sandrine took the tissues and wiped his salty cum from her lips and tried to choke back the hot tears at having been used so callously.
“You may leave now, Miss Débrouillard,” he said dismissively. “Oh, and by the way, Sandrine. You don’t mind if I call you Sandrine in private do you? Good, I though not. Anway, I was wondering if you had ever considered getting your tongue pierced? Many young women do these days, I’m told. They say it can greatly enhance the pleasure a woman can give to a man with her mouth.”
He leaned back in his chair, and then added, “Its just a thought,” at which he leaned forward again to give her a conspiratorial wink.
“Anyway,” he went on, “I feel that this meeting has been an especially productive one, and I’m convinced that we could both benefit greatly from meeting like this regularly, don’t you agree? How does once a week sound to you, Sandrine?”
Sandrine, getting ready to leave, had half turned towards the door, then looked back at the Headmaster in shock and disbelief at what she was hearing.
Chuckling at her expression of shock and surprise, the Headmaster continued, “Good, I see that we are in complete agreement. Goodbye, Sandrine, have a good evening, and we’ll look forward to doing this again next week, shall we? Good-bye.”
Sandrine, hot tears of anger and frustration welling in her eyes, stumbled out of the Headmaster’s office, down the empty corridor and out to her car in the school parking lot. She couldn’t believe how her life could have been so transformed by the occurrences of a single day. She bitterly cursed her carelessness of using the school PC for her dirty on-line amusements. She felt so discouraged and unhappy, she decided not to go out with the girls to the Barbican after all. As she started up her car she began to repeat “this can’t be happening, this can’t be happening, this can’t be happening,” over and over again.