Lucy's Predicament
Copyright© 2025 by Edward Pembroke
Chapter 4
Coming of Age Sex Story: Chapter 4 - 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, please do not read if you are after something light and fun.
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 Heterosexual FemaleDom Sadistic Spanking Analingus Oral Sex Teacher/Student
It was Sunday. The congregation drifted into the churchyard as the bells chimed overhead. Samantha and Jack McSworley walked with an air of righteous self-satisfaction, eager to be seen by the local hoi polloi, while their red-headed daughter Lucy trailed behind them, bored stiff of church.
Samantha wore a fashionable ankle-length skirt, Jack a crisp shirt and gilet, and Lucy—much to Samantha’s dismay—had insisted on tight black leggings and a hoodie, her pert young bottom emerging underneath the baggy top which dwarfed her small frame.
At least, thought Lucy, she wasn’t at school. Church might be boring, but at least there was no terror of bullying or abuse.
“I’ll go get the car,” said Jack.
“I’ll come too, Daddy,” said Lucy.
“No, Lucy, you stay with me,” Samantha said, taking Lucy by the hand.
Lucy huffed. “It’s boring here, Mummy.”
Samantha sighed at her petulant daughter, scanning the churchyard.
“Look, there she is,” Samantha breathed, spotting a tall, rigid figure near the stone archway. “It’s headmistress Trunchbull. Now, Lucy, shoulders back. Good posture is a sign of self-respect.”
Lucy’s eyes widened. “Oh no, Mummy ... not her.”
“Why? Don’t tell me you’re in trouble.” Samantha sniffed. “You’re as quiet as a mouse. I’m sure she barely knows who you are. That’s why it’s important to introduce you to a respectable person. She might be writing you out a reference sometime.”
Lucy had considered herself lucky to keep out of her clutches over the last few days at school, and now her mother was going to introduce her to this monster?
“Mummy, can we just go home? This is embarrassing.”
Samantha shot her a look of moral disappointment. “Lucy, it is never embarrassing to show respect to the people who uphold standards. You must understand the value of duty.”
Headmistress Trunchbull stood as though carved from the stone pillars of the church, grey hair screwed into an uncompromising bun, glasses perched low, mouth fixed in its usual disapproving line.
Samantha approached with near-reverence. “Headmistress Trunchbull! A blessed Sunday to you.”
The older woman turned slowly, her gaze sharp. “Samantha McSworley. I trust you found the sermon on steadfast virtue ... illuminating.”
“Oh, immensely,” Samantha gushed. “So necessary these days. People forget how vital moral guidance is. Children especially.”
Trunchbull’s eyes flicked to Lucy, who blushed instantly. “Young Lucy. Good morning.”
Lucy swallowed hard. “Um ... good morning, Headmistress.”
The headmistress turned back to Samantha. “Virtue does not appear by accident. It is trained, sharpened, enforced. A child must learn to govern herself.”
Samantha beamed. “Precisely! The world is full of confusing ideas these days—children being told they can be anything, do anything, live without boundaries. It’s no wonder they grow up lost. Lucy needs firm guidance, not ... all this nonsense about gay this and trans that.”
Lucy wished the earth would open and swallow her whole.
Headmistress Trunchbull gave a dry, approving chuckle. “Quite. Schools must steer them away from the worst influences the world flings at them.” Lucy couldn’t help but notice the older women slowly sidle alongside her.
“That’s exactly why I wanted Lucy to meet you today,” Samantha said fervently. “She must learn the importance of right behavior, of respecting those who uphold standards. You know, ever since you taught me all those years ago, I’ve always looked up to you, Ms Trunchbull!”
“I’m flattered, Samantha,” the headmistress replied. “And you are right. Potential must be shaped with a firm hand. A very firm hand.”
Lucy had been staring at the ground, willing the interaction to end, when she felt it ... a hand! Firm and possessive, settling on her bottom. Ms Trunchbull’s fingers were tracing the curve of her backside through her tight leggings, all while Samantha remained oblivious, still ranting in front of them.
“You know those trans kids—they’re all looking to get into the girls’ changing rooms, it’s disgusting, it’s against nature! If you ask me, they’re all perverts—I don’t understand, Ms Trunchbull, whatever happened to the world we grew up in...”
Samantha droned on, unaware that the woman she so admired was running her hand over her daughter’s ass, savouring the firm young flesh beneath her fingers.
“Indeed, Samantha,” Ms Trunchbull murmured, her fingers running along the crack of Lucy’s ass, pushing against the thin fabric, and moving up to the bare small of the teenager’s back.
Lucy bolted upright, trying to control her breathing, wondering why she was desperately trying to hide from her own mother the thing which she knew the old hag should not be doing.
The older woman’s fingers traced the dimples above Lucy’s tailbone, before sliding down the smooth cleft of her bottom and slipping inside her leggings.
“ ... And would you believe it,” Samantha continued, lowering her voice as if sharing something scandalous, “the government pushing that awful ... you know ... erm ... s-e-x education...” She spelled the word out primly, her cheeks reddening. She cast a sideways glance at Lucy, who looked confused and traumatised, which she took to be an endorsement of her opinion rather than the effect of being violated in front of her.
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