Lucy's Predicament
Copyright© 2025 by Edward Pembroke
Chapter 24
Coming of Age Sex Story: Chapter 24 - Lucy is a shy, awkward and innocent red headed schoolgirl, struggling to deal with school bullies, puberty and becoming the prey of predatory perverts. This is a tale of evil, a dark story, please do not read expecting a light hearted story.
Caution: This Coming of Age Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/ft ft/ft Fa/ft ft Mult Teenagers Blackmail Coercion NonConsensual Rape Reluctant Lesbian BiSexual Heterosexual School Niece Aunt FemaleDom Sadistic Spanking Analingus Oral Sex Squirting Voyeurism Teacher/Student
Lucy and Naomi sat side by side for the next few hours, the other girls whispering and shooting them confused, amused glances. Neither spoke to each other.
“Oi, Lucy,” Beri sneered. “You didn’t finish the job. Go on, smash that rat face in.”
Jackie leaned forward, her voice dripping with malice. “Yeah, look at her, Naomi the fucking Paki. Skanky little bitch. Bet she tastes like sewer water ... maybe she’s already given Lucy AIDS.”
Lucy ignored them, the sharp sting of Naomi’s bite still pulsing in her shoulder. Naomi sat rigid beside her, her mind racing with dread: What the hell was going to happen in detention?
“So, children,” Ms. Trunchbull chided as the girls stood in her office, “what a pickle you’ve gotten yourselves into.” She tapped her fingers against her desk, her eyes flicking over the phone in her hand. “I’ve been reviewing these messages from this Edward Pembroke. A most unsavory gentleman, I must say. Not the sort young ladies should associate with.”
She paused, her gaze lingering on Lucy. “And these photos ... these videos.” A slow, mocking smile spread across her face. “Really, Lucy, you look like you’re enjoying yourself in some of them.”
“Ms. Trunchbull, I didn’t—he forced me!” Lucy whimpered.
“Hmm,” Ms. Trunchbull hummed, standing up to circle both girls. “Was he forcing you to play with yourself? Or to stick that lollipop in your vagina in your own bedroom while sniffing your poor mother’s dirty panties?” She clucked her tongue. “I wonder what your long-suffering mother would say if she saw her darling girl fingering herself like a common whore.”
Lucy’s face burned. “Ms. Trunchbull, I...”
“And you, Miss Mansouri,” she turned sharply to Naomi. “Goodness me, Did you put that hairbrush back clean after you stuck it up your bottom?” She leaned in, her breath hot. “And you took this gentleman’s penis so far into your mouth, I thought your throat must be bottomless.” She straightened, her smile turning icy. “Not so innocent after all, are you? I’m sure your father would be appalled to know his daughter shoves household items up her bottom for the entertainment of low-class gentlemen like Mr. Pembroke.”
Naomi’s stomach heaved. Was she going to call her father?
“Now ... it seems you two young ladies have become quite ... entangled, haven’t you?” Ms Trunchbull fingered under Lucy’s chin, then went to Naomi, and ran a finger along her lips. “One might even say one of you betrayed the other.” She turned her head, her eyes narrowing on Lucy. “Naomi, I think your little friend here has been a very wicked girl. Lucy, don’t you think you owe Naomi an apology?”
Lucy’s face crumpled, tears spilling down her cheeks in hot, shameful streaks. “I’m sorry,” she sobbed, her voice breaking. “Ms. Trunchbull, please—please help us.”
The headmistress let out a low, mocking laugh. “Help you? Why should I help two dirty girls who’ve dragged themselves, and this school, into disrepute? Two little wenches who can’t keep their fingers out of their own naughty parts, who spread their legs for any man with a camera? “She clucked her tongue, shaking her head in exaggerated disappointment. “Tut, tut. And to think I provided both of you with lessons in how to deport yourselves as decent young ladies, and you behave like this.”
“Please” cried Naomi. “Please Ms Trunchbull...”
Neither girl had the courage to say out loud that the headmistress had defiled each of them in much the same way.
Ms. Trunchbull stood between them, dwarfing the two girls, their heads barely reaching her shoulders. She turned and hoisted herself onto the edge of her desk. The pink fabric of her dress rode up, exposing the expanse of her stockinged thighs. Her bare arms, thick and toned, spilled from the too-tight sleeves, while her grey hair hung freely, parted down the middle.
“Well,” she drawled, “I suppose I do feel some ... obligation—however distasteful—to offer a few words of wisdom to girls who’ve fallen so very low.”
Her thighs parted, and both girls could see that where her stockings reached to, and the white flesh of her inner thighs beyond, meeting at the gusset of black knickers under her dress.
“Lucy,” Ms. Trunchbull said, her tone suddenly sharp, “apologize to Naomi.”
Desperate to comply, Lucy turned to Naomi, her eyes brimming with tears. “Naomi, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for...”
Ms. Trunchbull cut through her with a raised hand. “Naomi, do you wish to accept her apology?”
Naomi hesitated, her mind racing. “Yes, Miss,” she whispered. “Please ... can you help us?”
Ms. Trunchbull’s lips curled into a slow, predatory smile. “Seal it with a kiss, then, Lucy, Kiss Naomi.”
Lucy’s breath hitched as she turned toward Naomi, their faces inches apart. Naomi’s dark eyelashes fluttered, was that defiance or panic? Lucy leaned in, her lips grazing the corner of Naomi’s mouth in a half-kiss that tasted like salt and strawberry chapstick.
Christ alive, even your apologies are pathetic, Lucy. Properly this time.”
Naomi reached out and took Lucy’s fingers into her hands, as their foreheads bumped. Lucy looked into the pools of black eyes, and pressed forward. Their mouths crashed together, lips chewing each other, before Naomi pushed her tongue into Lucy’s mouth.
Ms. Trunchbull’s fingers fidgeted beneath the fabric of her dress, one hand kneading the soft flesh of her own cleavage, her thumb and forefinger tweaking her nipple through the thin material. The other hand slid beneath the hem, disappearing into the black lace of her knickers, her breath quickening as she watched them with hooded, hungry eyes.
“It’s nice to have friends, isn’t it? Now, Lucy, don’t just kiss your new friend on the lips her face is only the beginning. What about her other lips, hmm? Show me how sorry you really are.”
Lucy’s gaze locked onto Naomi’s, and in that silent exchange, they both understood. They’d done this before, with Ms Trunchbull. And if Ms. Trunchbull couldn’t, or wouldn’t, help them, they’d be forced to do it again on camera with Ed Pembroke.
Lucy sank to her knees. Her fingers brushed against Naomi’s knees, then slid upward, pushing the green pleated skirt higher, higher, until the crisp white fabric of Naomi’s knickers was exposed. Lucy pressed her face into Naomi’s crotch, the insides of her bronzed thighs pressing into her cheeks, her nose pushing through the cotton gusset.
“Eat” commanded Ms Trunchbull. Lucy obeyed, her tongue lapping at the cotton gusset, wetting then soaking it, so that she could feel and taste the slim little labia underneath.
Ms. Trunchbull withdrew her hands from beneath her dress. She stepped behind Lucy, who remained on her knees in front of Naomi, then turned and spread her legs wide. With a deliberate, almost leisurely motion, she lowered herself, the damp warmth of her crotch pressing firmly against the top of Lucy’s bowed head. She leaned forward, bending over in front of Naomi.
“Zip down my dress, Naomi,” she ordered.
Naomi was quivering with pleasure as Lucy ate her out through her knickers. Her fingers fumbled with the zipper of Ms. Trunchbull’s dress, before finally catching it and tugging it down. The fabric parted, revealing the headmistress’s toned, muscular back.
“My bra too,” Ms. Trunchbull ordered.
Naomi hesitated. She had only ever dealt with the simple elasticated bras fit for her own flat chest. It took a few minutes to undo the complicated clasp and finally free the older woman’s heavy breasts.
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