Asking For It


About once a month the school where I work has a casual clothes day. There are rules about what the students can and can’t wear. The rules are stricter for the girls than the boys but that’s the way things are. It may not be politically correct, but it is common sense.

Notwithstanding these rules, and the rather strict way the Headmistress interprets them, some of the girls always try it on. Therefore I wasn’t too surprised to see Tiara flouncing along one of the corridors in an outfit that I was pretty sure broke all the rules. What I was surprised at was that it was lunch-time and Mrs Fogarty hadn’t blasted Tiara out of her pretty little socks and sent her home to change. I wandered down to see Mrs Fogarty, not having any real inclination to stop a teenager and discuss her choice of clothing with her.

“Have you seen Tiara?” I asked Mrs Fogarty.

“I have,” she said, giving me a killing look. It had no effect. Killing looks bounce right off me.

“And?” I prompted.

Mrs Fogarty tried to stare me down but I sat patiently waiting. Eventually she sighed.

“I called her in and gently reminded her of the casual clothing guidelines. She politely pointed out that she was eighteen and quite capable of deciding if her clothes fell within the guidelines or not. The clothes she was currently wearing suited her, she said, and every item was within the guidelines. What was my objection?

I whipped out the guidelines and started checking off the items she had on. Each item is within the guidelines. She even flashed her panties and bra at me and they’re within the guidelines. Maybe just by the thickness of the material, but within the guidelines.”

Mrs Fogarty gave me what could only be described as an evil smile.

“Of course, if you have a specific objection to any item that she’s wearing I would be quite happy to hear it.”

I spread my hands rather helplessly.

“If you say that she’s within the guidelines then I suppose it’s case closed. It’s just, just. . .” My voice trailed away as I gestured rather helplessly.

“It’s just that the totality of her outfit is, in this case, less than the sum of the parts?” suggested Mrs Fogarty.

“Couldn’t put it better myself,” I agreed. “Don’t the guidelines say anything about the girls looking like cheap hookers trolling for customers?”

“Unfortunately not. Skirts must be yay long, tops can’t show this or that, breasts can’t be displayed in any manner, things like that are covered. No-one considered that you could wear the stuff we authorise and still look like Tiara.

What’s worse, she’s a classroom lawyer. If I sent her home to change just because I don’t like her outfit she’d challenge it, waving the guidelines and threatening to go to the media. You know how they’d jump on something like this if it happens to be a slow news day.”

I nodded thoughtfully.

“You have a point,” I admitted. “Still, much as I hate it, I will have a gentle word in her shell-like ear, suggesting that a small alteration to her outfit would be a good thing. I am officially telling you this so she can’t come screaming sexual harassment.”

I didn’t rush straight off to find Tiara. I just made a mental note to speak to her when we crossed paths. I casually strolled around the school grounds, my presence curbing any over rumbustious behaviour, keeping an eye out generally. I finally saw Tiara parading around. She was swinging her hips, giving her skirt a little bounce as she walked which, combined with the slight breeze meant that there was the occasional flash of panties (which was against school policy, but hard to enforce).

As Tiara waltzed along she would catch the eye of a boy here and there, giving them what could only be described as ‘I know you want me’ looks, gloating at the way eyes tracked her.

After a while I worked out where she was heading and placed myself in a position where we would cross paths.

“Morning, Tiara,” I said, acknowledging the girls with her with a general nod in their direction.

“Afternoon, sir,” she said smirking.

I let that pass. I could see she was waiting for me to make some sort of comment on her clothes. Far be it from me to disappoint her.

“Tell me, Tiara, if you saw a man dressed in a police uniform, would you assume that he’s a policeman?”

“Either that or he’s going to a costume party,” she returned.

“A reasonable point,” I agreed. “I assume that you would think the same of someone dressed as a fireman?”

She nodded agreement without speaking.

“And if someone is dressed like a cheap prostitute?”

There was a bit of muttering amongst her companions, shocked at me inference.

“How can you tell from clothes if a woman is a prostitute?” asked Tiara. “Surely that’s in her behaviour rather than her dress?”

“You could say the same about a policeman,” I pointed out. “Ah, you’re not going to a party right now, are you?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. Just curious.” I also ran my eyes over illegal bahis her as I answered, and she flushed.

“As a matter of curiosity, how are you managing to beat the boys off? I’ve noticed them watching you.”

“I can handle the boys around here,” she said scornfully. “They’re all talk, anyway.”

“Unless you run into the football team,” I mused. “Then you might have a problem.”

Tiara flushed and looked as though she’d had enough of our conversation and wanted to be on her way. I waved her past, having one last little shot as she went.

“I wouldn’t worry too much. The juries don’t go for the ‘she was asking for it’ argument anymore.”

I promptly forgot about Tiara. She was Mrs Fogarty’s problem, not mine. I went about my normal duties, schools like to keep you busy. I remembered her and her odd attire when I spotted her just after the end of school bell. She was strolling in the direction of the sports fields. I found myself moving faster than I normally do as I hurried to cut her off.

“Tiara,” I said, stepping onto the path in front of her. She had to stop. Students don’t rudely push past teachers, even if the final bell had gone.

“What?” she asked, somewhat ungraciously.

“Still confident of your ability to handle the boys?” I asked.


“Oh, it’s just that I noticed Brandon the brute, football player extraordinaire, and three of his cohorts following you. They seemed to be watching you pretty closely. However, if you’re sure that you can handle them. . .”

At that moment Brandon and his mates walked slowly past, all of then giving Tiara the once over. Rather licentious looks they gave her, too.

Tiara watched them go, looking a little shaken. She became even more shaken after a few moments.

“Oh my god. They’ve stopped. They’re waiting by those bushes up ahead.”

“Useful things bushes,” I observed. “I can remember vanishing behind some bushes with my girlfriend when I was your age. They hide a lot of misdeeds, bushes do. Well, I’d better let you get on your way. I’m sure you have an appointment that you won’t want to miss.”

I cast a significant look at the boys and then ran my eyes over Tiara, letting her see my amusement.

“Wait!” she exclaimed. “Ah, I mean, can you wait a moment. I mean, can you make the boys go away?”

“They haven’t done anything wrong,” I pointed out. “They’re just standing there talking. If I speak to them they’ll just say they’re filling in some extra time prior to starting training.”

“Um, Brandon has a bit of a reputation,” Tiara said slowly.

She was right. A rather unsavoury one. If he hadn’t been a star player he would probably have been chucked out of school by now.

“Yes, he does,” I admitted. “Still, I’m sure you can handle him and his mates. There’re only four of them.”

The poor girl looked so scared I threw her a lifeline.

“I’m going back to my office,” I told her. “If you want to, you can come and wait in my office for half an hour. Training will have started by then and the way will be clear.”

I strolled back to my office, Tiara trotting alongside, chattering nervously. Once I reached my office I pointed to a chair for her to sit on and then made a phone call.

“Coach? It’s Greg. When your training session starts could you do me a small favour? I want you to take Brandon and those three idiots who tag along with him and run them into the ground. Run them until they puke and then run them some more. You can tell them that running is a good way to clear out unsavoury thoughts.”

“Ah, they didn’t actually do anything,” I replied to the coach’s question. “It is more a case of what they intended to do if I hadn’t taken certain steps to circumvent the situation. A young lady would have been involved, albeit unwillingly. I intend to kick the young lady’s butt around the school ground for being an idiot.”

“Thank you,” I said hanging up. The coach would get a kick out of running Brandon and company ragged. Maybe they’d get the message.

“What do you mean you’re going to kick my butt around the ground?” demanded Tiara.

“In a manner of speaking,” I said sitting back and contemplating her. “Let us consider your behaviour today. You came to school dressed like a cheap tramp. I know,” I said when she tried to interrupt. “Everything you have on is within the school guidelines. You played a cheap lawyer trick by pointing that out. Strictly speaking you’re in the right. Practically speaking, you still dressed like a cheap tramp. I bet your parents didn’t see that outfit before you left.”

From the nasty look I got I’d guess I was spot on about her parents.

“I wonder how your father will react when he sees the photo I took of you flirting with the boys at lunchtime. I’d love to hear his comments.”

“You didn’t,” came the horrified shriek.

I smiled and tapped my phone.

“I haven’t sent it yet. It depends on how well we work out a solution for your misbehaviour. Continuing on with your behaviour, you illegal bahis siteleri do know the school policy on sexual harassment, don’t you? It’s not to be tolerated. The way you dressed and the way you acted today can be construed as sexual harassment. If anyone was to make an official complaint to Mrs Fogarty I think she’d be quite pleased to review it. You would probably get off with an official warning and a letter to your parents.”

Tiara was starting to look distinctly ill.

“On top of all that, you seem to have been busy all day advertising the fact that you’re sexually active, want to get laid, and might not be too discriminating. Hence Brandon and friends thinking they were on a sure thing. You do realise that if they had dragged you behind the bushes and raped you most of the school would have believed you were agreeable. Asking for it, in fact.”

“It wasn’t like that,” protested Tiara. “I was just having a bit of fun, pushing the rules and teasing the boys.”

“Maybe so, but it’s not what you meant but how other people perceive your behaviour. They’ve put their own interpretation on it, hence Brandon’s interest. We put the rules in place for your protection. You bend and break them and bad things may happen. We have to be vigilant to protect you from your own stupidity. That’s why we punish infractions. Better a controlled punishment than letting you blunder into something that could be really bad.”

“So what are you going to do? I assume that you’re not going to literally kick me around the school grounds.”

“No. No kicking. I’m just going to invite you to take of your panties and lift up your skirt.”

“What?” Have you ever heard a whispered shout? That’s what Tiara’s query was like.

“Mm. If you lift up the front of your skirt I’ll lean you back against my desk and fuck you. If you lift up the back of your skirt I’ll lean you forward over my desk and spank you. The decision will rest in your hands.”

“Oh, really? And what happens when I refuse to lift up my skirt at all?”

“I’ll know you’re a naïve little virgin who hasn’t got the faintest idea of what she was inviting. In that case I’ll pass you on to Mrs Fogarty to discuss your behaviour with your parents.”

“The hell you would. I’d tell her what you just asked me to do.”

“And wouldn’t that cause trouble. For you. You don’t really think she’d believe you, do you? Young ladies in trouble are always pulling the sexual harassment charge. A bit hard to pull it when you’re facing sexual harassment charges of your own with dozens of witnesses, like every boy in the school.”

I sat back, completely relaxed. I had no doubt about Tiara’s decision. I mean, an attractive eighteen year old student facing a nasty looking, arrogant, teacher who was nearly twice her age? She would run, not walk, to the nearest exit, and the fact that the exit was labelled Mrs Fogarty wouldn’t matter in the slightest.

You can imagine my feelings when she stood up, gave me a defiant look, and proceeded to pull down her panties, sticking them in the pocket of her dress. It was by great effort of will that I stopped my jaw from hitting the ground. She had got to be kidding me.

She had another surprise waiting for me. Instead of hitching up the front or back of her dress (I’d have guessed back – and been wrong again) she pulled it up from the sides, lifting it up and tucking it into her belt, leaving her naked from the waist down. The little tuft of curls she had, while strategically placed, hid nothing.

“I take it that this is your subtle way of telling me that you’re not a virgin,” I murmured.

Tiara was blushing, but not backing down, holding her head up to look at me and not covering herself with her hands. I got up and strolled around to her side of the desk, with her watching me the way a hawk watches a mouse. Or maybe the way the mouse watches the hawk. I couldn’t be sure.

I reached past her and dragged the chair she’d been sitting on into the middle of the room and sat down on it. Then I patted my knee, looking at her and smiling.

“What are you going to do?”

“What you’ve asked me to do. It seems that you want both the spanking and the love-making. In that case it seems to me that starting off with the spanking is probably best as that means we can finish up afterwards on a high note. How high depends on whether you’re a screamer or not.”

Tiara was blushing even more fiercely now. She suddenly seemed a lot more self-conscious and her hands finally went down to cover herself.

“You don’t seriously think I’m going to let you spank me and then, um, you know?” she said.

“So, you’re now saying that you are a virgin?” I asked with an exasperated sigh.

“What? No. I’m just saying you can’t really spank me or anything. I mean, you just can’t.”

“I can’t? I’ll tell you what. You bend over my knee with your pretty little bottom, your pretty little bare bottom, showing and we’ll see if I can or not. I’m pretty sure that I can.”

“No. I mean canlı bahis siteleri that you’re not allowed to do anything like that.”

“According to what Mrs Fogarty was saying, you’re eighteen. That means that you’re capable of consent. If you bend over my knee I’m entitled to think that you’re consenting. To the spanking, anyway.”

“But the school rules. . .” she mumbled.

“Now you’re concerned about school rules? I’m pretty sure they don’t say anything about teachers spanking naughty young ladies.”

(Not that I’d ever checked. I didn’t think I’d be checking in the future, either. Ignorance is bliss.)

“Um, I really think that maybe I should let you report me to Mrs Fogarty and take whatever she dishes out.”

“I quite understand. Just too embarrassing to have your bottom smacked, eh? Easier to cut and run.”

“It’s not that. I’m not scared of being spanked. It’s just that afterwards you might try to, um, like you said.”

“Then why don’t you just do these things one at a time. Step one is to bend over and get spanked. Step two is to tell the truth about whether you’re a virgin or not. Step three is to decide if you’re going to get thoroughly fucked or not, depending on the answer divulged in step two.”

“Do you mean that if I admit that I’m a virgin, you won’t want to, uh, initiate me?”

“That would be telling. It might mean that I’ll only take you if you’re a virgin. Your best bet is to tell the truth and decide if you want me to proceed.”

“How do I know you won’t try to force me?”

“Ah, may I point out that you’re standing there with your pretty pussy on display and purring and I haven’t even tried to stroke it. If I’m not dragging you to the floor right now and leaping upon you with lusty cries, then I’m unlikely to do it later.”

I patted my knee again.

“Come along. You might as well get the spanking over with.”

Tiara was obviously weighing the relative pros and cons of a spanking versus having to front up to Mrs Fogarty. The pros for an immediate spanking was starting to outweigh the future fearful Mrs Fogarty. She sighed and her shoulders sagged a little, then she moved towards me, resigned to having her bottom smacked.

I brought my hand down onto Tiara’s bottom – gently. More a caress than a spank. I did this a second time, my hand drifting closer to her pussy. After the third time, Tiara protested.

“Just what the hell are you doing?” she demanded.

“Spanking you,” I pointed out. “That is what you’re expecting isn’t it.”

“What sort of fucking spanking is this?” and there was a tinge of worry to her voice, possibly because my hand had accidentally caressed her pussy with the latest spank.

“Ah, a politically correct one?” I suggested. “In keeping with the latest thoughts on domestic violence one is not allowed to smack so hard that it might inflict pain. The school demands that we abide by these guidelines.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“I quite agree, but rules are rules. I can smack a little harder if that will make you happier.”

Tiara made a sound that I assumed was assent so I smacked a little harder. She still complained.

“You’re not supposed to spank me there!”

“You’ll have to forgive me if I make any little mistakes,” I told her. “I’m not used to naked young women throwing themselves at me, demanding to be spanked. I’m sure I’ll improve with practice. Ah, why can’t I spank you here? You have nice curves here and, as you can see my hand covers these curves quite nicely.”

“Take your hand away from there. I am not naked and I didn’t throw myself at you. You insisted.”

“Ah, not really. I gave you a choice and you preferred this.” I demonstrated ‘this’ with a proper spank upon her bottom. “As for the not naked part, that can be remedied. Would you like to be naked? Maybe that will encourage me to give you a proper paddling. Assuming you want one.”

From her silence I had to assume that Tiara didn’t want a proper spanking. Not that that would help her. I continued on my way with my faux spanking, taking the time to caress her bottom and her pudenda, stroking them both, stirring her to life. I could actually feel her labia swelling and parting, her inner lips peeping through.

Deciding that she was sufficiently aroused, I delivered a proper spank to her bottom, being rewarded with a startled squeal. With that starter I went ahead and delivered a firm spanking, although, I will admit, a few smarting slaps may have landed on her mound instead of her rosy cheeks.

Tiara was squirming about now, protesting, but somewhat incoherently, not quite knowing what to say. I finally brought my hand down with one last hard spank and swung her to her feet.

There were tears in her eyes but she was making a determined effort not to cry. Her eyes weren’t the only place that was unexpectedly wet. It seemed to me that if she didn’t get her panties on fairly quickly she just might start dripping onto the floor. Unless something else managed to cover her mound.

Tiara was breathing hard and not looking at me. This attitude changed when I stood up and loudly unzipped. The sound of the zip descending brought her eyes swinging around to look at my groin and then up to my face to try and read my intentions.

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