Lucy's Predicament
Copyright© 2025 by Edward Pembroke
Chapter 8
Coming of Age Sex Story: Chapter 8 - 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
Lucy’s skin prickled as fingernails dragged lightly up and down the backs of her thighs with every step she took. She was painfully aware of how exposed she was to the older woman trailing behind her.
At the top of the stairs, the landing was lined with flower arrangements. A single door stood half-open among the others.
Ms. Trunchbull’s hand slid beneath the crotch of Lucy’s panties. Her thumb pressed into the blue fabric, forcing it between the cleft of Lucy’s cheeks until the material retreated, disappearing into the crease. The rest of her fingers cupped Lucy’s vagina through the cotton.
“The open door on the left, McSworley,” Ms. Trunchbull said, her voice deceptively calm. She withdrew her hand with a squeeze before delivering a sharp swat to Lucy’s bottom. “Move along now.”
Lucy crossed the landing and glimpsed a bed. She paused, she could not do what she thought she was going to be forced to do.
“Ms. Trunchbull ... I ... sorry I don’t want to...”
“Perhaps you need the bathroom,” the headmistress interjected smoothly, her hand cupping Lucy’s bottom once more as she guided her toward another door. “Yes, through here.”
Lucy hesitated. “Oh ... erm...”
“Do you need to go?” Ms. Trunchbull asked.
Lucy swallowed. “Err—yes, Miss. I need to pee.”
“Well, here is the little girls’ room,” Ms. Trunchbull replied, stepping aside just enough to let Lucy pass.
Lucy stepped gratefully into the gleaming, sterile white of the bathroom, as she looked forward to being alone. She turned to close the door ... But Ms. Trunchbull was already there, filling the doorframe, blocking any chance of privacy.
“Don’t be shy, child. Now, why don’t you give me those knickers?”
“P-Pardon?” Lucy stammered.
Ms. Trunchbull’s lips curled into a smile. “Easier to pee without them, isn’t it?”
Lucy thought of her options. She could scream, but no one would hear, and did she want to be discovered like this? She had already let herself be molested before and was in her underwear in this old woman’s house. She felt she had no choice, and so she hooked her thumbs under the elastic waistband and peeled it down her thighs, ankles and her socking feet. She stood slowly, her face burning with humiliation, and held out the crumpled blue cloth.
Ms. Trunchbull’s eyes gleamed as they flicked to the flash of red hair between Lucy’s legs. She plucked the panties from Lucy’s hand and lifted them to her nose, inhaling deeply.
“Hmm. You showered. Not much of a scent.” She tucked the panties into her pocket, her gaze never leaving Lucy’s face. “Now, the bra.”
Lucy’s fingers fidgeted against the clasp, the stupid catch refusing to undo no matter how she twisted. Ms. Trunchbull exhaled sharply through her nose stepping forward. The older woman’s hands eclipsed Lucy’s, thick fingers making quick work of the hooks with the efficiency of someone who’d done this many times before.
The bra slid free.
Ms. Trunchbull didn’t step back. Instead, her palm pressed flat against Lucy’s sternum. Goosebumps erupted across her ribcage from both the chill and the way Ms. Trunchbull’s hands crawled over her chest until they rubbed over her small pebble like nipples and pushing up the slight swell of her breasts. She squeezed each nipple between forefinger and thumb and smiled down at the frightened girl.
“Now, you said you had to pee did you not? Why don’t you sit those sweet cheeks on the toilet seat and have a tinkle.”
Lucy shuffled backward until porcelain pressed against the backs of her knees. Ms. Trunchbull feasted her eyes on the cherry tipped nipples pointing out from her alabaster white flat breasts, and took a step closer, settling a hand on the girl’s bony shoulder before pressing her down on the toilet seat.
“Go on then,” came the murmured command, accompanied by fingers sliding through Lucy’s red hair.
Lucy squeezed her eyes shut, concentrating on the pressure in her bladder. When the first trickle came, it brought unbearable relief and horror simultaneously.
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