Rosie was leaning over her friend's desk, talking. She knew she should have been her in her seat, for the bell had already rung, but she was not worried, because she also knew there was a new teacher starting today, and new teachers are always a push-over, easy meat. When she heard the door open - several minutes after the bell had rung - she paid no attention, but carried on leaning over her friend's desk. The stupid teacher obviously couldn't even find where he was supposed to be on time. She wasn't going to hurry for him. Sensing the hushed silence, and feeling his eyes on her back, Rosie slowly swung her head round to meet his gaze. She knew that the way she was leaning made her tiny tartan skirt ride up at the back and that her tight white panties were clearly visible. She looked at the new teacher with an insolent smirk, holding his eyes for a few seconds. Even though his mouth was set in a stern line, Rosie took her time sauntering over to her own seat at the front of the class, swaying her hips lasciviously as she did so. She sat slightly slouched in her seat, her knees apart, one foot up on the bag under her desk. Rosie knew that this position offered the teacher at the front of the class a perfect view of the crotch of her panties, and as she looked him challengingly straight in the eyes, her lips curved up. She was going to make this first class of his as uncomfortable as possible. When, during the lesson, she caught him staring under her desk, she caught his eye with that same insolent smirk and, her gaze travelling down to the point of his interest, she shifted in her seat, opening her knees wider, offering him more of a view. She flicked her eyes back up to his face, noting with satisfaction that his face and neck were coloured with a deepening red. He coughed and adjusted his tie; Rosie was right - new teachers were such easy meat.
When the bell rang again to signal the end of the lesson, Mr M asked Rosie to stay behind for a few minutes. Rosie was unperturbed; she knew how to handle him. She sat looking bored, fiddling with her fingernails, until the last of the students had filed out. Mr M closed the door and stood in front of Rosie's desk, his arms folded, his expression inscrutable. ''Stand up Rosie,' he said, and Rosie, shrugging, did as she was bid. 'You know Rosie, the way you were sitting in class today was highly provocative. Your little white panties were clearly visible,' he said, quite calm now that they were alone in the classroom. Rosie pretended to be offended. 'Were you looking, sir?' she said, affecting a tone of shocked indignation. 'I think you wanted me to look, Rosie,' he answered, throroughly unruffled. 'In fact, I think you enjoy exposing yourself. Well,' he continued, 'since you are so fond of showing yourself off, I think we should have another look at those little panties of yours.' A tiny frown passed across Rosie's brow, a flicker of confusion clouded her eyes. 'Sir?' she said, uncertainly. 'Come on Rosie, you're not going to pretend you're shy all of a sudden. Lift your skirt and show me your panties.' There was something about this new teacher's manner, or maybe it was his tone. Rosie found herself complying, taking the hem of the front of her short tartan skirt in both hands and lifting it to her waist, exposing the small white cotton panties underneath. Mr M stood appraisingly her coolly; he did not move or speak, but nodded almost imperceptibly. Now it was Rosie's turn for her cheeks to flood with colour. She stood immobile with her skirt lifted as if in a trance, waiting for his next instruction. 'Now,' he said, in that same calm tone, 'I think you should show me the back of those panties, don't you?' Rosie remained silent, sensing that this was not a question that required an answer. 'Bend over my desk Rosie, and lift the back of your skirt,' he said. Rosie obediently bent over Mr M's desk, laying her cheek on the warm, smooth wood. Bringing her hands behind her, she lifted the hem of her skirt up, away from her bottom, leaving her both exposed and vulnerable. 'Hmmmm,' Mr M said, and he ran a hand over the cheeks of her bottom, causing a ripple of excitement to pass through Rosie's veins. His palm lightly tapped the underside of Rosie's full, round cheeks, and then he said, 'Rosie.' The tone of his voice made her heart jump; it was as if she knew what was coming next. 'Rosie, you have been a VERY bad girl. You've been flaunting yourself, and I think you should be punished.' Without waiting for a response, Mr M set about spanking Rosie's bottom with his large, strong hand, varying the speed and intensity of the blows, alternating between cheeks with a randomness that took Rosie's breath away. She had never been spanked before, but even as the tears slid down her face, she felt the fire blooming on the cheeks of her bottom spreading to other places too.
Finally he stopped, and Rosie lay across his desk panting, her eyes flitting around the room, looking for something solid to hold onto. Her head was swimming, her emotions confused. She felt his fingers snake between her legs to rub at the crotch of her panties, and though his fingers felt good there she felt ashamed, knowing what he would find. 'Oh dear,' he said, his voice a mixture of disappointment and reproval. Rosie could picture him shaking his head behind her back. 'These panties,' he said, as he continued to rhythmically massage her crotch, 'are awfully damp. I rather think you enjoyed your punishment, didn't you Rosie?' His mouth was close to her ear, and Rosie knew that this time he expected an answer. 'Yes sir,' she whispered. 'Tut tut,' he replied, 'you ARE a bad girl. Perhaps we should pull these panties down and spank your bare arse?' 'Yes sir,' Rosie whimpered, but she did not move. 'Well, come on then!' he ordered, 'Pull those panties down, girl!' Despite her humbled position, Rosie felt strangely humiliated at having to pull her own panties down. Keeping her face pressed to Mr M's desk, she reached behind and pulled her panties down to her knees. Using his knee, Mr M forced her legs slightly wider apart, which both exposed and slightly opened her tight, wet pussy. Both sets of Rosie's cheeks were blooming with colour. It was a sight he enjoyed very much. He would very much like to strap Rosie's bottom with his belt, but he was not sure she could take this punishment quite yet, so he commenced another series of hand spanks on her bare behind. As he spanked her, he told her why he was doing it. He told her that she was a bad girl, a cocktease, a slut. He barked out more questions that required no answers - 'You like showing yourself off, don't you?' 'You wanted to make me hard by flashing yourself at me, didn't you?' 'You deserve to be punished, don't you, you little slut?' Rosie closed her eyes and bit her lip to keep her cries from escaping; the spanks hurt her, but the humiliation was worse, and even worse than that was the shame she felt - even as the tears slid down her cheeks she could feel the betrayal of her pussy sliding down her inner thigh. This did not escape her teacher's notice when his barrage of spanks and verbal abuse finally stopped. 'Good heavens, girl,' he exclaimed, as his fingers probed her sodden cunt, 'you're dribbling half way down your legs! Hmmm....I think we should plug that up, don't you?' But before Rosie could reply, she felt the tip of his cock pressing in between her legs, forcing itself into her tight, wet opening, sliding into her up to the hilt. Mr M had his hand on the back of her head, and as he entered her fully he stroked her hair, crooning softly into her ear, 'There, that's what you wanted, isn't it?' Once again, he gave her no chance to respond. Holding her down with one hand on the back of her neck, pressing her face hard into his desk, he began to fuck her hard. Rosie's hips banged off the side of Mr M's desk; his fingers curled into her hair, pulling it at the nape. His thrusts were violent; he slammed into her again and again, and Rosie thought, 'Yes, I'm a bad girl, fuck me.'
Suddenly he withdrew, and Rosie turned her head a little to look at him questioningly. He moved around the desk, his still-hard cock in his hand. 'Clean your cunt off my cock Rosie,' he said, and Rosie thought she detected a note of disgust in his voice. Desperate to please, she opened her mouth and licked the tip of Mr M's cock, ran her tongue up and down the sides of the shaft. Mr M let out an exasperated sigh. 'Not like that,' he said, and slapped the sides of her face with his cock. Grabbing a fistful of Rosie's hair, he twisted it in his grip, making her knees buckle, forcing her down. 'Come on, you little cocksucker, you know how to do it,' he said, ramming his cock into her mouth and deep into her throat. He face-fucked her hard, making her choke and gag; then just as suddenly, he stopped. 'Now pull up your panties,' he said. Rosie was despondent; she had wanted him to cum inside her, in her pussy or in her mouth. He was right, she was a slut. Feeling saddened but thoroughly chastened, Rosie stood and pulled up her panties. Mr M pushed her backwards over his desk, hurting her back, and pushed her skirt up above her waist. Rosie gripped the sides of his desk with her hands to keep her balance. Kneeing her legs apart once more, he rubbed his cock all over the crotch of her still-damp panties, then wanked himself off, covering the thin strip of white cotton concealing her throbbing cunt with hot spurts of cum. Zipping himself up, Mr M looked Rosie staright in the eye and said, 'You will keep those cum-stained panties on for the rest of the day, to remind you what a filthy little whore you are.' Then he turned on his heel and stalked out of the classroom, and the door swung shut behind him. Left alone in the classroom, Rosie knew two things: she would keep those panties on all day, not to remind her that she was a whore, but because her favourite teacher had sprayed them with his cum. And secondly, that the next time she was in one of Mr M's classes, she was going to be very bad indeed....