Lucy's Predicament
Copyright© 2025 by Edward Pembroke
Chapter 1
Coming of Age Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Lucy is a shy, awkward and innocent red headed schoolgirl, struggling to deal with school bullies, puberty and becoming the prey of evil perverts.
Caution: This Coming of Age Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including ft/ft Fa/ft Teenagers NonConsensual Rape Reluctant Lesbian FemaleDom Spanking Teacher/Student
Lucy McSworley sighed as she stood in her bedroom. At fourteen, her body was still so immature and child-like. She looked down at her body and frowned at how skinny and frail she was. Her hips, narrow, her arms willowy and slight, and she still was so short! Just five feet. When would she grow? When would she get breasts like the other girls?
She pulled her auburn hair back, checking her face for spots. Pale blue eyes stared back at her, framed by a smattering of freckles across her fair skin. Her fingers traced her pale lips, as she searched for any sign of dreaded pimples.
Her white panties, adorned with little red hearts, clung to her slim waist, as she pulled them snugly. Her nipples barely showed through the fabric of her white bra, which had little else to cover.
“Lucy! You’ll be late for school!” her mother called from downstairs.
“Sorry, Mummy!” Lucy called back, sighing with frustration. She reached for her uniform. She pulled on the green plaid skirt, buttoning it around her waist. It fell just above her knees, but she hesitated before rolling the waistband up, so the hem sat halfway up her thighs. The other girls wore theirs even higher. She hated showing so much skin, but she had to fit in. With a twirl, she checked the mirror, her cheeks flushing as she caught the shadow of the crease of her buttocks. Quickly, she tugged it down, only for it to ride back up as she moved.
Next came the white blouse, loose on her slight frame, the fabric swallowing her narrow shoulders. She buttoned it carefully, then pulled on her white socks with their frilly tops, smoothing them around her ankles. The green and black striped tie followed, knotted neatly at her collar. Finally, she slipped into her green blazer and black shoes, taking one last look in the mirror.
“Lucy! Get a move on!”
“Coming, Mummy!” Lucy called, hurrying toward the stairs.
Her parents were waiting at the bottom. As she descended, her father glanced up and caught a pleasant sight of her white panties between her legs. He knew he shouldn’t have looked but he was finding it increasingly difficult to stop admiring his daughter’s slim white legs and the forbidden treasure lying between them.
“Young lady!” her mother, Samantha, exclaimed, her hands on her hips. “That skirt is way too short! I can see your ... well, nearly everything!”
Samantha McSworley, at forty-five, had a softer figure than her daughter—curvier, fuller—but there was a part of her that admired Lucy’s youthful slimness. “You’d never have caught me wearing a skirt that short!” she laughed, though there was a hint of pride in her voice.
Lucy’s father, Jack, forced a smile, carefully keeping his eyes on his wife’s face. “Listen to your mother, Luce,” he said.
Lucy shifted uncomfortably, her fingers twisting the hem of her skirt. “Mummy, this is how the other girls wear it...”
Samantha tutted, shaking her head. “Well, I still don’t like it.”
Lucy didn’t argue. She just adjusted her blazer, her cheeks burning, and headed for the door. Another day, another battle.
--------------- A few hours later, Lucy was in French class.
It was Jackie. Tall, blonde, and effortlessly confident, she stood with her friends, her own skirt rolled up high. Lucy froze, her heart hammering against her ribs.
“Your skirt is so long,” Jackie sneered, her gaze raking over Lucy’s modest uniform. “You look like you’re trying to hide something.”
Lucy’s throat tightened. “Oh ... sorry...”
“Why are you apologizing, freak?” Jackie’s friends snickered at the skinny small redhead.
Lucy stuttered. “M-my mum doesn’t like me rolling up my skirt.”
“Aww, you a mummy’s girl, then?” Jackie’s smirk widened, and the girls behind her burst into laughter.
“Skinny little bitch,” one of them muttered under her breath.
Lucy’s fingers clenched around the fabric of her skirt, her knuckles turning white. “Y-yeah, she can be a pain,” she forced out. “I-I’m gonna roll it up now, honest...”
“Yeah, babe, whatever.” Jackie rolled her eyes, her laughter trailing behind her as she and her friends sauntered away, leaving Lucy standing there, humiliated.
---------- Lucy had to take herself off to a quiet corner of the school library to avoid having a panic attack. Why was she so nervous and pathetic in front of those bullies?
“Skinny little bitch.” The words rang in her mind. She hated school, she hated having to fit in with all these mean girls. Still, she had to get through another day. She breathed into herself, copying a technique she had seen online, and made her way to French class.
Lucy slipped into the room just as the bell rang, hoping to avoid the bitchy chattering and mockery as long as possible. She slid into her usual seat, her fingers twisting the hem of her skirt. At least there was one small relief: she wasn’t the only target.
Naomi Mansouri sat beside her, as always, their surnames, McSworley and Mansouri, had landed them next to each other in half their classes. Naomi, like Lucy, was tiny, just under five feet, her slight frame dwarfed by the oversized school blazer she always wore. Her long, wavy black hair fell like a curtain around her face, framing dark, coffee-colored skin, a sloped Persian nose, and full lips.
She was weird. Shy, intense, and prone to muttering under her breath in class. The other girls called her “creepy” or “witchy,” but Lucy had never seen her do anything but doodle in the margins of her notebook and jump at loud noises.
Lucy risked a glance at Naomi, who was already hunched over her desk, her dark lashes casting shadows on her cheeks as she scribbled something in her notebook. Lucy rarely spoke to her, she was afraid of getting targeted as a weirdo as well.
The teacher droned on while Lucy daydreamed. She looked over shyly at some of the boys, wondering idly what it would be like to be someone’s girlfriend, but it was something she barely understood. The other girls talked about sex and boyfriends and sometimes she would nod along and pretend she understood what they were talking about. Then, one of the girls would coax her into saying she had a boyfriend, or she understood what oral sex was, then they would turn on her, mocking her and calling her a slut.
The boys were stupid and dirty and annoying but at least they were not as horrible as the girls. But she wished she could just stay home and watch cartoons, even if she was now a teenager.
After class, Lucy hugged her files to her chest as she hurried toward the door. The moment the teacher was out of sight, the bigger girls would pounce, like predators singling out the weakest in the herd. She just wanted to disappear. To slip through the cracks and avoid their notice for one more day.
Then she heard it: a sharp, pained squeal. Lucy turned.
Naomi was trapped between Jackie and Beri, the Nigerian girl who towered over them both, her broad frame blocking the hallway like a wall. Jackie had a fistful of Naomi’s long black hair, yanking it back so hard the smaller girl’s eyes were squeezed shut, her hands flailing uselessly.
“Leave me alone!” Naomi moaned. Jackie kicked the back of Naomi’s leg. The smaller girl crumpled, her knees hitting the floor with a sickening thud. Her skirt rode up as she fell, exposing the white fabric of her underwear to the snickering crowd.
“What were you writing in your book, bitch?” Beri snarled, giving Naomi’s hair another vicious tug. With her free hand, she rummaged through Naomi’s bag, pulling out her notebook. “You writing about me, were you?”
“Nooo!” Naomi wailed. “I wasn’t, please, honest, please let me go!”
The other girls laughed, a cruel chorus of amusement. Students streamed past, some glancing at the scene with detached curiosity, others ignoring it entirely. Lucy hated this. She hated them. But a small, shameful part of her whispered in relief: It’s not me. It’s not me this time.
Lucy turned on her heel. Then...
“Hey, Lucy!” Jackie’s voice cut through the noise.
Lucy froze.
“Hold down this little fucker’s legs, will you?” Jackie grinned, her eyes glinting with malice. “Try and keep her still while I go through her stuff.”
Lucy’s breath hitched. “W-why me?”
“Fucking do it,” Jackie snapped, her smile vanishing. “Or are you friends with weirdo here?”
Lucy’s gaze flickered to Naomi. The smaller girl was still struggling, her legs bent at the knees, her skirt hiked up to her hips. Her dark eyes locked onto Lucy’s, wide and desperate, her lips parted in a silent plea.
“You trying to help her?” Beri sneered, tearing pages from Naomi’s notebook and scattering them like confetti. “She your girlfriend?”
Lucy swallowed hard, as the other girls laughed. She hated herself as she reached out, her fingers brushing against Naomi’s ankles. The smaller girl kicked wildly, her shoes connecting with Lucy’s wrists.
“Fucking creep,” Beri muttered, flipping through the notebook. “What the fuck is this?” She ripped another page, crumpling it in her fist before tossing it aside.
Lucy forced herself to look away from Naomi’s face, from the tears streaming down her cheeks, from the way her body shook with sobs. She focused on the floor, on the scuffed linoleum, on anything but the girl she was helping to pin down.
Then, suddenly, the pressure on Naomi’s hair released. The smaller girl collapsed backward, her head hitting the floor with a dull thud. Lucy’s breath caught as she found herself staring directly at Naomi’s crotch, her skirt still hiked up, the gusset of her white panties now inches from her face.
Before Lucy could react, a hand grabbed her by the hair, pushing her forward. She gasped as her face was shoved against Naomi’s thighs, her cheeks brushing against the smooth skin. The girl behind her pushed harder, and Lucy’s nose pressed against the fabric of Naomi’s underwear. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to push herself off the girl, aware of the revolting and humiliating scene she was now the star of.
“Hahaha, fucking lesbians!” the girls cackled, their laughter echoing down the hallway.
Then, a loud, commanding voice broke through.
“What is going on here!”
The laughter died instantly.
Ms. Trunchbull, the towering, severe headmistress, stood at the end of the hallway, her broad frame blocking the light. Her sharp eyes swept over the scene, her expression a mix of fury and disgust. The girls who had been laughing only moments before now shrank back, their smug grins vanishing.
“Sorry, miss,” Jackie said innocently, “Naomi and Lucy were fighting.”
Lucy’s stomach twisted. She was still on all fours, on top of Naomi, as the poor girl underneath desperately tried to pull her skirt over her thighs.
“You two, in my office. Now.”
Lucy’s heart pounded as she clumsily pushed herself off Naomi. She didn’t dare look at the other girl, didn’t dare meet her eyes. What could she even say? Sorry I held you down? Sorry I let them do this to you? How could she explain herself to Ms Trunchbull?
Naomi didn’t move at first. She stayed curled up on the floor, her dark hair tangled, her skirt still riding up her thighs. Lucy could see the tears glistening on her cheeks, the pages of her notebook all over the floor.
“Now,” Ms. Trunchbull barked.
Lucy went red as she got up and followed the large woman with Naomi traipsing along beside as the girls giggled behind them. Lucy couldn’t bring herself to look at Naomi. She couldn’t tell on the others, what would be the point? They’d only make her life worse. And besides, she was guilty. She had held Naomi down.
Naomi wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, her mind racing. What could she say? The bigger girls would still come for her. They always did. She hated school. Hated the way it made her feel small, powerless. But right now, she hated the redheaded girl beside her just as much, the coward who had gone along with the bullies, even when she was one of their targets too.
---------- A few minutes later, both girls stood in front of Ms. Trunchbull’s imposing desk, the headmistress looming over them like a storm. Ms. Trunchbull folded her arms, her sharp eyes flicking between them. “Well?” she demanded. “What have you got to say for yourselves?”
Im sorry miss, it wont happen again, Lucy mumbled, playing at the hem of her skirt.
Naomi said nothing, just stared at the ground.
Ms Trunchbull snorted. “You know, when I was your age, we had the cane for cheeky little troublemakers like you two.”
Lucy gulped, avoiding the teachers eyes.
“Ms Mansouri, get out, and don’t let me see you misbehave e again. McSworley you will remain.”
“Yes miss, sorry” Naomi stuttered, and shuffled out of the room.
Ms. Trunchbull’s lips curled into a disdainful smirk as she watched Naomi scurry out of the room, her head ducked low. The door clicked shut behind her, leaving Lucy standing alone in the oppressive silence of the headmistress’s office.
“Ms. McSworley,” the headmistress said, “you and I are going to have a little chat.”
Lucy felt her face burn. She could feel the heat of Ms. Trunchbull’s gaze boring into her. “Y-yes, miss,” she stammered.
Ms. Trunchbull stood up and circled the poor girl, her eyes flitting up and down her small frame. “You know, Lucy, I think you just want to keep your head down, keep out of trouble, go along with whatever the popular crowd wants, is that right? Have I judged you correctly?”
Lucy’s throat tightened. She wanted to disappear.
“You held that girl down,” Ms. Trunchbull continued, cold but measured. “Or rather, you tried to.” A faint, humorless smile touched her lips.
Lucy shivered as Ms. Trunchbull reached out, her fingers brushing against Lucy’s auburn hair. She began to toy with the red tresses, twisting them gently between her fingers. “You’re a bit of a coward, aren’t you?”
“It’s alright, child. No need to answer. Not everyone is meant to be brave, you know. Some girls are simply ... built to follow. To do as they’re told.” Her fingers lingered in Lucy’s hair for a moment longer. “And there’s no shame in that, is there? Knowing your place?”
Lucy stared fixedly at the certificates on the wall, her fingers flickering nervously at her sides. She could feel Ms Trunchbull’s heaving bosom nearly brushing against her cheek, her fingernails now lightly grazing Lucy’s scalp.
“Now, Ms. McSworley,” Ms. Trunchbull said, “let’s discuss your options.” She leaned in slightly, her breath warm against Lucy’s ear. “Do you want your parents to know how you misbehaved? How you helped bully another girl? Or would you prefer to explain to them that you simply went along with what the other girls told you to do?”