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“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 almanbahis 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 almanbahis yeni giriş 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?” almanbahis giriş “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. “Turn around.” 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.