Melia's Education

The HeadMaster is a dreaded man, filthy and perverted, with no morals or inhibitions to get in his way.  With countless opportunities
to sexually dominate totally obedient and submssive schoolgirls and as age creeps up with him, his perversions grow increasingly
worse, ever delving deeper into darker recesses of depravity of male sexual domination.

He implemented the new school uniform code, consisting of an ultra-short plaid skirt hemmed up high above the genital crevice
along with forbidding the schoolgirls to wear undergarments. It included a mandate for schoolgirls to be freshly clean-shaven,
enforced with frequent inspections.

As with the other girls, Melia enrolled in Our School for Girls to learn how to orally service
men to the best of her ability. She had finished the strict training regimen with the Fellatio Teachers,  working her way all the way through the Final Requirement, the ability to suck off one hundred men at the glory hole and to complete each and every one of them within
six-minutes. Taking longer than six-minutes with any one of them meant failure and a re-trial, followed by a possible spanking, caning, or strapping. After three tries at the Final Requirement comes The HeadMaster’s Evaluation.

Melia had succeeded, and now it was time for The Evaluation.
With wooden dowel rod in hand, the HeadMaster was careful to outwardly maintain a stern appearance as Melia reported to him. She stood in front of him with arms raised and hands clasped behind her head. She was well indoctrinted in the importance of maintaining this address stance until she would be instructed otherwise. If she should balk, flinch or lose her hand-clasp in any way, she would surely taste the purpling sting of his wooden rod.

The HeadMaster slowly eyed Melia from head to toe as he slapped his stick against his leg. With her arms raised, her micro-skirt rode up even higher, bringing every fold and wrinkle of her genital crevice to full view. His discerning stare lingered there, searching for any slight trace of stubble. Melia trembled slightly.

“You seem to be properly clean-shaven, Melia,” the HeadMaster began.
“But I want to take a closer look.  Present yourself over the Punishment Bench.”

“Oh, please, HeadMaster,” Melia sobbed, as she lifted her leg over the dreaded bench.
“I . . . you’re not going to cane me, are you Sir? “That depends,”  he returned as he watched
her begin to position herself over the bench.  “Right now I want you to lean forward and
hold on tightly to the sides of the bench.”

“Yes, HeadMaster,” she responded as she carefully complied.

“You know your obedience is essential, Melia,” he remarked. “Do not disappoint me.”

Without response, Melia quickly mounted the bench. Her extremely short skirt rode high up beyond the small of her waist, which began to bring her lower body to the HeadMaster’s view. She flushed at the thought of presenting herself that way to the HeadMaster. But there was more to come. Much more. They were both sure of it.

“That’s not good enough, Melia,” the HeadMaster continued.
 “I want a better presentation from you.”

Melia  raised her head incredulously, not quite knowing exactly what he wanted. She heard the
threatening taps of his stick begin once again against his side.

“I want to see, Melia. Spread your legs wide.”

So that was it, Melia thought,  silently as she spread her legs apart for him, bringing her genital
crevice into an improved view for him. She splayed and displayed for him as she was told. It
seemed as she could almost feel his eyes bearing down between her out-spread legs.

The HeadMaster silently stood behind her with his arms folded, more relishing her submissive and compliant condition, rather than taking the opportunity to examine her most private, personal and
obscene diplay her required of her.

“Melia, your pussy is not quite into my full view,” he observer dryly. “Raise your legs up high.

I want to see those lips pout open!”

“Yes, HeadMaster,”  she complied,  as she brought her legs up and out for him. Her muscles
strained and began to grew weak.

“Spread wider! That’s not wide enough!” he ordered. “I want to see deep inside of you!
SHOW ME SOME PINK!”

“Yes, HeadMaster,” Melia replied as she stretched her legs as wide as she possibly could in careful effort to provide him what he wanted. They both paused, each remaining in their respective positions in the quiet of the room. Melia began to tremble in nervous shame and humiliation of her display of immodesty to the stern, aging man.

It seemed an eternity to gwe as she maintained her silent, obedient display in the cold room. Somewhere in the building,  she began to hear muffled sounds of leather striking bare skin with accompanying sobs.

“Do you know what you are hearing?” asked the HeadMaster.

“Oh, yuh . . . yes, HeadMaster,” she stammered.

“That could be you in there, if you do not follow my every command. You know that don’t you?”

“Yes, Sir.”

 “I want you to lift your legs, and maintain position for me,” he ordered as he grabbed her ankles and  lifted them off the floor. “Lift your legs, and show me what I want to see.”

After his release of her legs, Melia’s buttocks tightened as she strained her muscles in effort to pull her legs up off the floor. She was begining to feel the pain of this position.

“Oh, please, HeadMaster!” she blurted in desperation. “Please won’t you let me suck you off?”

“All in due time, Melia,” smiled the HeadMaster. “All in due time. . .

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