I self-published a collection of erotic fiction focusing on the fetishes of spanking and tickling. Anything For Georgetown And Other Stories is available on Smashwords.com.
This particular story is about a teenage girl with a racy past. She comes from successful, wealthy parents, and she herself is brilliant, but she puts on strip shows for the male students of her Catholic high school. She's made thousands of dollars from this. The new guidance counselor finds out about her past, and is fascinated by this girl, but also is jealous that she
comes from well-to-do parents and seemingly has everything she needs. He had to scrape and scramble to get through
college himself. He discovers some provocative pictures of her, and calls her in for a chat. He offers to help her get into
Georgetown, the school he graduated from and the school of her dreams. However, she has to give up her strip shows, her bullying ways, and has to agree to be punished for her past, in the guidance counselor's favorite way, which involves a
white feather and a wooden paddle. She is spanked and tickled, getting pleasure out of it that she never got with the boys of St. Veronica's. But Monica is strong-willed and confident. How long will she put up with feeling used by the guidance
counselor? Even though she gets a perverse pleasure out of being spanked and tickled, will she get even with this man?
Hope you enjoy the excerpt! If you want to find out the end of the story, look for Anything For Georgetown And Other Stories on Smashwords.com.
Anything For Georgetown excerpt:
She knocked. “You wanted to see me, Mr. Houlihan?”
“Yes, Monica. Come on in. Go ahead and shut the door. I’m not keeping you from anything, am I? You’re not going to miss the bus, are you?”
“No, I drove my car to school. I have been, since I was sixteen.”
“Oh. Well, I haven’t been here very long, and I’m trying to get to know the seniors as quickly as I can; the conferences are coming up and I’m looking through everyone’s files so I’m somewhat familiar with them…”
He is good looking, she thought. Mid to early twenties, self-assured, looked you directly in the eye. He was different from the boys she played with. When she was right in front of his desk, he stood up to shake her hand. “Have a seat,” he said.
Monica sat. She hadn’t bothered to change out of her uniform today. She thought it would be inappropriate to show up at a meeting like this in sweats.
“The reason I asked you to see me is because … well, I’ve been hearing some things from some of the girls. Brenda Hartley, in particular. What has she done to you to make you pick on her?”
“That’s what this is about?” Monica couldn’t believe it.
“Well, that’s part of it,” said Houlihan. “You’re an exceptional student, but you seem to …have a bit of a behavior problem. Or maybe I should say attitude problem. Like I said, Brenda is only a part of it.” He took the packet of pictures out and handed them across the desk. “I got these anonymously. Care to explain?”
Monica looked at the familiar photos. She’d taken them herself. “I took these. I sold them. I figured, ‘hey, why not?’ I know what guys like to look at, and it’s pretty obvious I’ve got it. I’ve had to deal with this ever since I was thirteen years old. I figured I could either be mortified or proud. And I decided to be proud, and I also decided to try and use it to get what I want.”
Houlihan gazed at her. “You mean the photos. What else do you do?”
During this brief exchange, Monica could feel a kind of electricity in the air. She was very, very attracted to this man. “Have you heard that I do things?” She asked innocently.
“There was a note that came with the photos. It was an anonymous note. But it was full of information about how you …have private dance parties for boys. You do things with them.”
Monica smiled. “Really? So what kind of things do I do with boys?”
Houlihan wasn’t smiling. “What do you do with boys?”
“That’s kind of private, don’t you think?”
“Yes, but so are these pictures.”
“I sell them. Or did. I thought it would be a great money-making thing, but the guys just made copies of them. Making money off of photographs is hard, because unless you charge a bunch up front, you never see your money’s worth. People make copies on their printers at home, or they scan them in and put them on disk, then take them to the drugstore and make copies. I’m not ashamed of the photos, but I’m kinda upset that I can’t make more money with them. And yeah, I do the private dances. That’s something you need to do in person. They’ll never outsource that.”
“Is that all you do with the boys?”
Monica was amused. “Why the obsession about what I do with a bunch of high school boys? I know how to take care of myself. If a bunch of guys want to give me money to touch my breasts, who cares?”
“Are you charging them for sexual intercourse?”
“No. I know that’s illegal, although it has crossed my mind. And yeah, I’ve slept with some guys, but not for pay.”
Houlihan was starting to sweat. Here was a young, gorgeous uninhibited girl. What did she do? What did she like to do? He was treading in dangerous waters. He’d only been here a few months, and already he was being lured into temptation.
“Why?” He snapped.
“Because it’s fun,” purred Monica. “I like playing with boys. It feeds my ego. It’s pretty cool, having guys hang out with me, and buy me stuff and take me places.”
“And picking on other girls.”
“I don’t like people judging me,” Monica flared. “I roll with the punches, so to speak. Guys are going to think I’m a slut for the way I’m built, so I might as well deal with it. I like my body. I like sex. There. Am I going to hell now?”
“This school has a reputation for being very good, and we want to uphold that. You’re not helping matters any by being mean to students and flaunting your sexuality.”
“It’s a crime to be sexy? You sound like Brenda. I can’t help it if she’s ugly.”
“But you can stop your behavior.”
“And what if I don’t want to?”
Houlihan was still sweating. “I went to Georgetown, you know.”
This caught Monica off guard. “Really? That’s my top school! I so want to go there!”
Houlihan regarded Monica for a moment. “I know some people there who owe me favors. I could probably get you into the school no problem.”
“Really? Oh my God! That would be so great!”
“But—what are you willing to do for Georgetown? This harassing of another student isn’t going to help your case. And giving out lap dances for boys sounds, well …”
“Would it make you feel any better if I told you I was saving some of that money for college?”
“Your parents have good jobs. I know Georgetown is expensive … but lap dancing?”
“Sure. Why not? And maybe I’ll get a gig as a dancer to work my way through school.”
Houlihan’s forehead was starting to bead with sweat. “Do your … boys satisfy you?”
Throughout this whole conversation, Monica was wondering where this was leading. She was used to guys hitting on her. But Houlihan had that indignant, “you must behave” vibe going on…but there was something else too. The way he couldn’t keep his eyes off her. Something clicked in her mind.
“Well,” she started, slowly crossing one leg over the other, and nonchalantly sliding the short skirt even higher on her thigh, “sometimes. I mean, I have to really tell them what I want, and they think it’s weird, so we do it the usual way.”
“What way?”
“You know, guy on top. Missionary. Sometimes they touch me the way I want them to, but other times … it’s like they’re not listening.”
Houlihan shifted in his seat. He noticed his heart rate was up. “What if …” he stopped.
“What if, what?”
“What if you tell me what you want?”
“For real? I’m not telling you that.” Monica laughed, but there was a thrill of excitement inside of her.
“You want to go to Georgetown, right? I can make that happen. I can make that happen, but, you’ve got to give me something in return.” Now the bridge was crossed; now he could get into trouble. But he’d read her file; he’d read her essay on her choice of college. It was just one, unlike the other seniors who had listed their college choices with the clinical detachment of a scientist. Monica’s essay had fairly oozed with passion about Georgetown and its alumni and so forth. It was like she’d written a love letter to the school.
“What do I have to give you?”
Houlihan stared at her. “To be honest, I don’t like your attitude. I’ve met plenty of girls like you; spoiled princesses, you pick on other girls who aren’t as pretty as you are. You wrap boys around your finger for the fun of it. If you want Georgetown, you’ll get it. But you need to keep your mouth shut about it. About our deal. If you agree to be punished for your behavior, punished my way, I’ll make sure you get into Georgetown. But you have to give up the lap dances, the photos, the shenanigans with the boys.
“You can really get me into Georgetown?”
Houlihan thought about the frat initiation he’d gone through. He’d had to crawl through the legs of his frat brothers, who were all lined up, each armed with paddles. He’d had to make his way down a sidewalk on a street lined with frat houses, and crawl a block, while he crawled through each of his brother’s legs, and got a smacking from each and every one of them. The first one smacked his bottom, then ran down the street to get in line behind the last frat brother. Then the second one did the same thing, so that all the way down the damn block, he was on his knees, getting smacked. At the end of it, he’d collapsed on his belly. His bruised bottom ached for days. But what he was most ashamed (but fascinated by) was the erection he had at the end of it all. He had managed to hide it by taking off his sweater, and tying the arms so they draped in front of his crotch. That, plus he bent over, because the pain was so excruciating, he thought he’d vomit. That memory had flashed through his mind in about two seconds. Looking into Monica’s beautiful face snapped him back to attention.
“Yes. But you’ll have to be punished my way. And you’ll sign something, too. If you say one word about it, you can forget about Georgetown, and I’ll not be giving you any ringing endorsements.”
“So what’s my punishment?” Monica asked it in a flirty way. Getting it on with this guy wouldn’t be bad at all.
“Spanking. For starters. I think your actions frustrate a lot of people. I’m going to try and make you understand that.”
“Really? You’re going to spank me? Oooh, I’m so scared.”
Houlihan got up from his desk and made his way over to the ancient door. He locked it, put the chain across it. These rooms were pretty soundproof.
He went back to his desk and got out a piece of paper. He wrote up a quick contract, and handed it over to Monica. She glanced at it. “I know a few people at Georgetown who owe me favors. I got them out of some tricky situations. You are as good as in. But you still need to keep your grades up.”
Monica sighed. “You know something? I’ve always wanted the guys to do kinky stuff with me, but they never seemed interested.”
“Kinky like, how?”
“Well, I’ve always had this fantasy of being tied up and tickled.”
Houlihan’s mouth didn’t drop open. But it was like this girl had read his mind. He’d always wanted to do that to a woman, but none of the few girls he’d dated had taken him up on it. The women he’d met at some fetish sites never looked like their pictures. Why was it the ugly as sin types would do anything and the gorgeous ones wouldn’t? Easy, you dope. The uglies have to do that in order to get any sort of companionship at all. The beautiful ones, like this little bitch in front of him, could afford to be conservative and prim and proper. He took a deep breath. “How do you want to be tickled?”
Monica looked him right in the eye. “Very slowly. Very, very slowly.”
Houlihan’s sizeable penis was starting to rise. “How about if I spank you every time you flinch or squirm?”
“Every time?” Breathed Monica. “Promise?”
Houlihan slid out the bottom drawer and took out a smaller version of the paddle he’d been nailed with by the frat guys. It was Georgetown blue and white, and it was just the right thickness, just the right heft. He didn’t necessarily want to hurt her. No, it was about satisfaction for him, spanking a legitimately naughty girl. And when she said she wanted to be tickled, that was the kicker. Spanking and tickling was his big thing, thanks to a bunch of frat guys and a stripper he’d seen years ago who knew how to work a feather boa. It slid all over her skin, the tanned, taught skin of her perfect body. He’d paid for a lap dance from her, and she delicately teased his inner thighs and brushed her breasts against his face until he made a mess of his pants.
What he wouldn’t really admit is that he had hang-ups when it came to women. Being the oldest, when his second sister came along, she had health problems from an early age. That, combined with the fact that his mother lost his first sister, and was eaten up with guilt about it, spelled doom for Gabe. When the second sister came along, he was pretty much out of the picture. And her health problem, juvenile rheumatoid arthritis, meant that since her mother couldn’t cure the disease, little sis would get everything she wanted. His mother would deny him, but not her. So she got the car for her sixteenth birthday, even though he was the oldest; he’d had to walk to his part time job in high school until he had saved up for a battered sub-compact. It meant studying his head off if he wanted to get out of town to a better school. It meant taking out student loans because he didn’t get all the scholarships he needed. Oh, his parents gave him a little money, but little sis got to live at home and go to the expensive Catholic college and continue to live at home where she lived still. He felt his sister and mother had ganged up against him; he sided with dad, and until he left home, pretty much tried to make his mom and sis as miserable as possible. Tensions escalated and even though his mother was a good woman, excellent cook, and had managed to keep them afloat when his dad was laid off, the scars were there. She didn’t abuse him, no, one couldn’t say that, but there was the belief that she would have preferred the other sister to live, and have had two daughters. So, he had a certain resentment for girls like the one in front of him. Monica would get everything she wanted in life. For that alone, he hated her. That’s why his plan made sense to him, but was completely evil. He wanted to punish her. He had to punish her. Her privileged upbringing, her beauty, her intelligence. She would fucking walk right into Georgetown, while he had to beg and scrape and scramble his way there.
He would make her pay on her journey to Georgetown.
“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. There 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 about that later.
He slid the bottom left drawer of the desk open. At the bottom, underneath a pile of papers, was the smaller paddle, and beside it a blue (Georgetown blue, of course) feather. He took both of them out.
“Come here. Bend over the desk.” He rolled his chair back. Monica walked around, bent over so she was 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 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?”
“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. He couldn’t. That way, if something went haywire with this crazy plan, he could swear he never had sex with her, never laid a finger on her. He held the feather between his thumb and forefinger, and gently traced her nipples. She took deep breaths. He chuckled. She wouldn’t be able to stay still for long. He drew the feather between her breasts, down to her belly button, and made the feather do a slow figure eight across her flat stomach. She quivered. He then smiled, and circled the feather in her left arm pit before he sliced it down her rib cage. She shrieked. “Turn around,” he said sternly.
Houlihan smacked her bottom several times, flicking his wrist, letting the paddle do the work. He then used the feather like a paint brush, frantically drawing it across her back, her bottom, her thighs, using her body like some three dimensional canvas. She never knew where the feather would land next, and as a result of being off guard, was squirming and shrieking. He kept smacking and smacking and smacking. In the midst of this frenzy, he rolled his chair closer, and rubbed his crotch on it. He needed something, anything to rub against if only because he just couldn’t stand it anymore. It only took a few seconds before he came. He collapsed in the chair, gazing at the naked girl before him. After a few minutes, she leaned against the back of his desk.
“That was fun. Now what? Said Monica.
“Get dressed. You’ve been punished enough for one day.”
“What about my satisfaction?” she pouted a bit.
“Listen—I said I could get you into Georgetown, but that doesn’t mean you get to knock off the books. Even Georgetown isn’t stupid enough to let in a student who can’t make the grade. Keep your grades up—nothing below an A minus at the grading quarters. And I saw your PSATs. Not bad. But the better you do, the easier it will be. Georgetown gets a lot of applications from good students—and they turn away a fair amount of them. You do your part, and you’ll get your satisfaction … eventually.”
Monica stared. Then, she smiled. She got dressed, slowly.
“Remember, I meant it about behaving. If I hear of any behavior problems, or if you’re out entertaining the boys again, our deal is off. Once you’re in …” he trailed off.
“Then what?” asked Monica.
“We’ll talk about that later.” Houlihan grinned. “And Monica, this is our little secret. I’ll deny anything you say, if you double-cross me. Your reputation isn’t too sterling. Everyone knows about you. Keep your nose to the grindstone and work hard, and I’ll talk to the folks at Georgetown.”
Now fully dressed, Monica picked up her backpack. Her bottom still tingled from what had just transpired. But she still had a mixture of feelings going on. This seemed dirty, exciting, dangerous. The fact that she was getting punished in a private office at school was ten times hotter than any sexual act she’d done with any boy. Oh, they touched her in the right places, but frequently, she’d had to use a vibrator while they did it. And being the same age, or younger, they didn’t seem to have any sort of authority at all. No power. Houlihan was good looking, and sexy and could pull a few strings for her to get her into the college of her choice. Isn’t that what life was all about? Doing favors, or things that you really didn’t want to do in order to get what you wanted? She liked having her breasts touched, and she liked doing the private dances, and of course, the money was great … but those boys couldn’t get her to Georgetown. Houlihan could. And in exchange, all she had to do was allow herself to be spanked and tickled to fulfill whatever fantasies he had. The payoff would come when she got into Georgetown. She drove home like a bat out of hell. Still excited, she ran upstairs to her huge, pink and white bedroom, still looking very girlish, and got out a vibrator that made the little portable one she took with her on her special “dates” look like a pencil. The vibrator she used at home specifically said not to be used on small body parts. However, when she was by herself, it was the only thing that would bring her to orgasm. Sometimes, it was quick, sometimes it took forever. But after Houlihan’s punishment today, and thoughts of what the future would eventually bring, she was able to come in a couple of minutes. She liked the way she felt after an orgasm. Suddenly feeling tired, she set her alarm for a quick nap. It was the weekend, and she looked forward to movies and shopping. She was a little upset she wouldn’t be able to do the lap dancing anymore, but the $10,000 she had stashed in her hope chest was enough for now. She rolled over in her perfumed sheets (Donna Karan’s Be Delicious) and dropped off to sleep.
Like it! Then go buy it! Find Anything For Georgetown And Other Stories on Smashwords.com
This particular story is about a teenage girl with a racy past. She comes from successful, wealthy parents, and she herself is brilliant, but she puts on strip shows for the male students of her Catholic high school. She's made thousands of dollars from this. The new guidance counselor finds out about her past, and is fascinated by this girl, but also is jealous that she
comes from well-to-do parents and seemingly has everything she needs. He had to scrape and scramble to get through
college himself. He discovers some provocative pictures of her, and calls her in for a chat. He offers to help her get into
Georgetown, the school he graduated from and the school of her dreams. However, she has to give up her strip shows, her bullying ways, and has to agree to be punished for her past, in the guidance counselor's favorite way, which involves a
white feather and a wooden paddle. She is spanked and tickled, getting pleasure out of it that she never got with the boys of St. Veronica's. But Monica is strong-willed and confident. How long will she put up with feeling used by the guidance
counselor? Even though she gets a perverse pleasure out of being spanked and tickled, will she get even with this man?
Hope you enjoy the excerpt! If you want to find out the end of the story, look for Anything For Georgetown And Other Stories on Smashwords.com.
Anything For Georgetown excerpt:
She knocked. “You wanted to see me, Mr. Houlihan?”
“Yes, Monica. Come on in. Go ahead and shut the door. I’m not keeping you from anything, am I? You’re not going to miss the bus, are you?”
“No, I drove my car to school. I have been, since I was sixteen.”
“Oh. Well, I haven’t been here very long, and I’m trying to get to know the seniors as quickly as I can; the conferences are coming up and I’m looking through everyone’s files so I’m somewhat familiar with them…”
He is good looking, she thought. Mid to early twenties, self-assured, looked you directly in the eye. He was different from the boys she played with. When she was right in front of his desk, he stood up to shake her hand. “Have a seat,” he said.
Monica sat. She hadn’t bothered to change out of her uniform today. She thought it would be inappropriate to show up at a meeting like this in sweats.
“The reason I asked you to see me is because … well, I’ve been hearing some things from some of the girls. Brenda Hartley, in particular. What has she done to you to make you pick on her?”
“That’s what this is about?” Monica couldn’t believe it.
“Well, that’s part of it,” said Houlihan. “You’re an exceptional student, but you seem to …have a bit of a behavior problem. Or maybe I should say attitude problem. Like I said, Brenda is only a part of it.” He took the packet of pictures out and handed them across the desk. “I got these anonymously. Care to explain?”
Monica looked at the familiar photos. She’d taken them herself. “I took these. I sold them. I figured, ‘hey, why not?’ I know what guys like to look at, and it’s pretty obvious I’ve got it. I’ve had to deal with this ever since I was thirteen years old. I figured I could either be mortified or proud. And I decided to be proud, and I also decided to try and use it to get what I want.”
Houlihan gazed at her. “You mean the photos. What else do you do?”
During this brief exchange, Monica could feel a kind of electricity in the air. She was very, very attracted to this man. “Have you heard that I do things?” She asked innocently.
“There was a note that came with the photos. It was an anonymous note. But it was full of information about how you …have private dance parties for boys. You do things with them.”
Monica smiled. “Really? So what kind of things do I do with boys?”
Houlihan wasn’t smiling. “What do you do with boys?”
“That’s kind of private, don’t you think?”
“Yes, but so are these pictures.”
“I sell them. Or did. I thought it would be a great money-making thing, but the guys just made copies of them. Making money off of photographs is hard, because unless you charge a bunch up front, you never see your money’s worth. People make copies on their printers at home, or they scan them in and put them on disk, then take them to the drugstore and make copies. I’m not ashamed of the photos, but I’m kinda upset that I can’t make more money with them. And yeah, I do the private dances. That’s something you need to do in person. They’ll never outsource that.”
“Is that all you do with the boys?”
Monica was amused. “Why the obsession about what I do with a bunch of high school boys? I know how to take care of myself. If a bunch of guys want to give me money to touch my breasts, who cares?”
“Are you charging them for sexual intercourse?”
“No. I know that’s illegal, although it has crossed my mind. And yeah, I’ve slept with some guys, but not for pay.”
Houlihan was starting to sweat. Here was a young, gorgeous uninhibited girl. What did she do? What did she like to do? He was treading in dangerous waters. He’d only been here a few months, and already he was being lured into temptation.
“Why?” He snapped.
“Because it’s fun,” purred Monica. “I like playing with boys. It feeds my ego. It’s pretty cool, having guys hang out with me, and buy me stuff and take me places.”
“And picking on other girls.”
“I don’t like people judging me,” Monica flared. “I roll with the punches, so to speak. Guys are going to think I’m a slut for the way I’m built, so I might as well deal with it. I like my body. I like sex. There. Am I going to hell now?”
“This school has a reputation for being very good, and we want to uphold that. You’re not helping matters any by being mean to students and flaunting your sexuality.”
“It’s a crime to be sexy? You sound like Brenda. I can’t help it if she’s ugly.”
“But you can stop your behavior.”
“And what if I don’t want to?”
Houlihan was still sweating. “I went to Georgetown, you know.”
This caught Monica off guard. “Really? That’s my top school! I so want to go there!”
Houlihan regarded Monica for a moment. “I know some people there who owe me favors. I could probably get you into the school no problem.”
“Really? Oh my God! That would be so great!”
“But—what are you willing to do for Georgetown? This harassing of another student isn’t going to help your case. And giving out lap dances for boys sounds, well …”
“Would it make you feel any better if I told you I was saving some of that money for college?”
“Your parents have good jobs. I know Georgetown is expensive … but lap dancing?”
“Sure. Why not? And maybe I’ll get a gig as a dancer to work my way through school.”
Houlihan’s forehead was starting to bead with sweat. “Do your … boys satisfy you?”
Throughout this whole conversation, Monica was wondering where this was leading. She was used to guys hitting on her. But Houlihan had that indignant, “you must behave” vibe going on…but there was something else too. The way he couldn’t keep his eyes off her. Something clicked in her mind.
“Well,” she started, slowly crossing one leg over the other, and nonchalantly sliding the short skirt even higher on her thigh, “sometimes. I mean, I have to really tell them what I want, and they think it’s weird, so we do it the usual way.”
“What way?”
“You know, guy on top. Missionary. Sometimes they touch me the way I want them to, but other times … it’s like they’re not listening.”
Houlihan shifted in his seat. He noticed his heart rate was up. “What if …” he stopped.
“What if, what?”
“What if you tell me what you want?”
“For real? I’m not telling you that.” Monica laughed, but there was a thrill of excitement inside of her.
“You want to go to Georgetown, right? I can make that happen. I can make that happen, but, you’ve got to give me something in return.” Now the bridge was crossed; now he could get into trouble. But he’d read her file; he’d read her essay on her choice of college. It was just one, unlike the other seniors who had listed their college choices with the clinical detachment of a scientist. Monica’s essay had fairly oozed with passion about Georgetown and its alumni and so forth. It was like she’d written a love letter to the school.
“What do I have to give you?”
Houlihan stared at her. “To be honest, I don’t like your attitude. I’ve met plenty of girls like you; spoiled princesses, you pick on other girls who aren’t as pretty as you are. You wrap boys around your finger for the fun of it. If you want Georgetown, you’ll get it. But you need to keep your mouth shut about it. About our deal. If you agree to be punished for your behavior, punished my way, I’ll make sure you get into Georgetown. But you have to give up the lap dances, the photos, the shenanigans with the boys.
“You can really get me into Georgetown?”
Houlihan thought about the frat initiation he’d gone through. He’d had to crawl through the legs of his frat brothers, who were all lined up, each armed with paddles. He’d had to make his way down a sidewalk on a street lined with frat houses, and crawl a block, while he crawled through each of his brother’s legs, and got a smacking from each and every one of them. The first one smacked his bottom, then ran down the street to get in line behind the last frat brother. Then the second one did the same thing, so that all the way down the damn block, he was on his knees, getting smacked. At the end of it, he’d collapsed on his belly. His bruised bottom ached for days. But what he was most ashamed (but fascinated by) was the erection he had at the end of it all. He had managed to hide it by taking off his sweater, and tying the arms so they draped in front of his crotch. That, plus he bent over, because the pain was so excruciating, he thought he’d vomit. That memory had flashed through his mind in about two seconds. Looking into Monica’s beautiful face snapped him back to attention.
“Yes. But you’ll have to be punished my way. And you’ll sign something, too. If you say one word about it, you can forget about Georgetown, and I’ll not be giving you any ringing endorsements.”
“So what’s my punishment?” Monica asked it in a flirty way. Getting it on with this guy wouldn’t be bad at all.
“Spanking. For starters. I think your actions frustrate a lot of people. I’m going to try and make you understand that.”
“Really? You’re going to spank me? Oooh, I’m so scared.”
Houlihan got up from his desk and made his way over to the ancient door. He locked it, put the chain across it. These rooms were pretty soundproof.
He went back to his desk and got out a piece of paper. He wrote up a quick contract, and handed it over to Monica. She glanced at it. “I know a few people at Georgetown who owe me favors. I got them out of some tricky situations. You are as good as in. But you still need to keep your grades up.”
Monica sighed. “You know something? I’ve always wanted the guys to do kinky stuff with me, but they never seemed interested.”
“Kinky like, how?”
“Well, I’ve always had this fantasy of being tied up and tickled.”
Houlihan’s mouth didn’t drop open. But it was like this girl had read his mind. He’d always wanted to do that to a woman, but none of the few girls he’d dated had taken him up on it. The women he’d met at some fetish sites never looked like their pictures. Why was it the ugly as sin types would do anything and the gorgeous ones wouldn’t? Easy, you dope. The uglies have to do that in order to get any sort of companionship at all. The beautiful ones, like this little bitch in front of him, could afford to be conservative and prim and proper. He took a deep breath. “How do you want to be tickled?”
Monica looked him right in the eye. “Very slowly. Very, very slowly.”
Houlihan’s sizeable penis was starting to rise. “How about if I spank you every time you flinch or squirm?”
“Every time?” Breathed Monica. “Promise?”
Houlihan slid out the bottom drawer and took out a smaller version of the paddle he’d been nailed with by the frat guys. It was Georgetown blue and white, and it was just the right thickness, just the right heft. He didn’t necessarily want to hurt her. No, it was about satisfaction for him, spanking a legitimately naughty girl. And when she said she wanted to be tickled, that was the kicker. Spanking and tickling was his big thing, thanks to a bunch of frat guys and a stripper he’d seen years ago who knew how to work a feather boa. It slid all over her skin, the tanned, taught skin of her perfect body. He’d paid for a lap dance from her, and she delicately teased his inner thighs and brushed her breasts against his face until he made a mess of his pants.
What he wouldn’t really admit is that he had hang-ups when it came to women. Being the oldest, when his second sister came along, she had health problems from an early age. That, combined with the fact that his mother lost his first sister, and was eaten up with guilt about it, spelled doom for Gabe. When the second sister came along, he was pretty much out of the picture. And her health problem, juvenile rheumatoid arthritis, meant that since her mother couldn’t cure the disease, little sis would get everything she wanted. His mother would deny him, but not her. So she got the car for her sixteenth birthday, even though he was the oldest; he’d had to walk to his part time job in high school until he had saved up for a battered sub-compact. It meant studying his head off if he wanted to get out of town to a better school. It meant taking out student loans because he didn’t get all the scholarships he needed. Oh, his parents gave him a little money, but little sis got to live at home and go to the expensive Catholic college and continue to live at home where she lived still. He felt his sister and mother had ganged up against him; he sided with dad, and until he left home, pretty much tried to make his mom and sis as miserable as possible. Tensions escalated and even though his mother was a good woman, excellent cook, and had managed to keep them afloat when his dad was laid off, the scars were there. She didn’t abuse him, no, one couldn’t say that, but there was the belief that she would have preferred the other sister to live, and have had two daughters. So, he had a certain resentment for girls like the one in front of him. Monica would get everything she wanted in life. For that alone, he hated her. That’s why his plan made sense to him, but was completely evil. He wanted to punish her. He had to punish her. Her privileged upbringing, her beauty, her intelligence. She would fucking walk right into Georgetown, while he had to beg and scrape and scramble his way there.
He would make her pay on her journey to Georgetown.
“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. There 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 about that later.
He slid the bottom left drawer of the desk open. At the bottom, underneath a pile of papers, was the smaller paddle, and beside it a blue (Georgetown blue, of course) feather. He took both of them out.
“Come here. Bend over the desk.” He rolled his chair back. Monica walked around, bent over so she was 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 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?”
“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. He couldn’t. That way, if something went haywire with this crazy plan, he could swear he never had sex with her, never laid a finger on her. He held the feather between his thumb and forefinger, and gently traced her nipples. She took deep breaths. He chuckled. She wouldn’t be able to stay still for long. He drew the feather between her breasts, down to her belly button, and made the feather do a slow figure eight across her flat stomach. She quivered. He then smiled, and circled the feather in her left arm pit before he sliced it down her rib cage. She shrieked. “Turn around,” he said sternly.
Houlihan smacked her bottom several times, flicking his wrist, letting the paddle do the work. He then used the feather like a paint brush, frantically drawing it across her back, her bottom, her thighs, using her body like some three dimensional canvas. She never knew where the feather would land next, and as a result of being off guard, was squirming and shrieking. He kept smacking and smacking and smacking. In the midst of this frenzy, he rolled his chair closer, and rubbed his crotch on it. He needed something, anything to rub against if only because he just couldn’t stand it anymore. It only took a few seconds before he came. He collapsed in the chair, gazing at the naked girl before him. After a few minutes, she leaned against the back of his desk.
“That was fun. Now what? Said Monica.
“Get dressed. You’ve been punished enough for one day.”
“What about my satisfaction?” she pouted a bit.
“Listen—I said I could get you into Georgetown, but that doesn’t mean you get to knock off the books. Even Georgetown isn’t stupid enough to let in a student who can’t make the grade. Keep your grades up—nothing below an A minus at the grading quarters. And I saw your PSATs. Not bad. But the better you do, the easier it will be. Georgetown gets a lot of applications from good students—and they turn away a fair amount of them. You do your part, and you’ll get your satisfaction … eventually.”
Monica stared. Then, she smiled. She got dressed, slowly.
“Remember, I meant it about behaving. If I hear of any behavior problems, or if you’re out entertaining the boys again, our deal is off. Once you’re in …” he trailed off.
“Then what?” asked Monica.
“We’ll talk about that later.” Houlihan grinned. “And Monica, this is our little secret. I’ll deny anything you say, if you double-cross me. Your reputation isn’t too sterling. Everyone knows about you. Keep your nose to the grindstone and work hard, and I’ll talk to the folks at Georgetown.”
Now fully dressed, Monica picked up her backpack. Her bottom still tingled from what had just transpired. But she still had a mixture of feelings going on. This seemed dirty, exciting, dangerous. The fact that she was getting punished in a private office at school was ten times hotter than any sexual act she’d done with any boy. Oh, they touched her in the right places, but frequently, she’d had to use a vibrator while they did it. And being the same age, or younger, they didn’t seem to have any sort of authority at all. No power. Houlihan was good looking, and sexy and could pull a few strings for her to get her into the college of her choice. Isn’t that what life was all about? Doing favors, or things that you really didn’t want to do in order to get what you wanted? She liked having her breasts touched, and she liked doing the private dances, and of course, the money was great … but those boys couldn’t get her to Georgetown. Houlihan could. And in exchange, all she had to do was allow herself to be spanked and tickled to fulfill whatever fantasies he had. The payoff would come when she got into Georgetown. She drove home like a bat out of hell. Still excited, she ran upstairs to her huge, pink and white bedroom, still looking very girlish, and got out a vibrator that made the little portable one she took with her on her special “dates” look like a pencil. The vibrator she used at home specifically said not to be used on small body parts. However, when she was by herself, it was the only thing that would bring her to orgasm. Sometimes, it was quick, sometimes it took forever. But after Houlihan’s punishment today, and thoughts of what the future would eventually bring, she was able to come in a couple of minutes. She liked the way she felt after an orgasm. Suddenly feeling tired, she set her alarm for a quick nap. It was the weekend, and she looked forward to movies and shopping. She was a little upset she wouldn’t be able to do the lap dancing anymore, but the $10,000 she had stashed in her hope chest was enough for now. She rolled over in her perfumed sheets (Donna Karan’s Be Delicious) and dropped off to sleep.
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