Ashley, Masturbating
**This story is a continuation of "Ashley, Spanked Briefly", which I recommend reading first**
***
It's been a while since Charles Anderson, a professor at a renowned academia, spanked his student, Ashley Bouchard, during recess in an attempt at shocking the girl with hands-on methods of discipline, once all the verbal and written reprimands failed to have any effect. Little did he know his treatment affected the poor girl in more ways than he could imagine...
***
The moment Ashley returned to the classroom, she just sat down silently at her desk, trying not to look at anyone. Her face was still burning with shame and guilt; no less guilty thrill was still burning in her loins. On her buttcocks a hot, stinging feeling remained; now, as she was forced to sit on the very source of her shame, amongst her unaware colleagues, the girl couldn't focus on anything other than how her body reacted. They knew Anderson asked her to stay for recess, but could they tell, just by looking at her...?
The bell rang, another class began. The pain became more sour, somewhat dull; her unrelieved arousal rendered her privates numb but still swollen. The state she was in, Ashley deemed insane - how could all those weird feelings remain for so long? Something was still calling all the girl's attention to the unwarranted, hot, sticky pulsation between her legs she kept crossed under her desk. Why was she still horny?
Ashley remained horny even after the pause started and she could finally keep her sore butt off the chair. Standing by the window, shyly, away from her classmates, Ashley's mind kept wandering off to the rhythm of the strikes Mr Anderson landed on her ass. She felt so helpless and vulnerable back then, really wanting the man to let her go -- now she felt utterly perverted, grounded in reality of being still at school and still a student of a man who witnessed her moan and squirm to the punishment he was right to give her.
She enjoyed the way Anderson made her feel: just a little brat, at his mercy, hot and bothered, craving his dick but too ashamed to say anything other than "I'm sorry, sir". Oh, she deserved the trashing he gave her so well. She might be wrong in seeing it that way, but she couldn't help or deny the way it made her feel. But what was she supposed to do about it now, other than dying from shame and never coming to school again?
Soon the pause was over and Ashley had to sit on her very sorry ass yet again, trying not to raise any suspicion. Getting in trouble with any other teacher was the last thing she wanted. Waves of shame and guilty arousal washed over her interchangeably during those agonizing forty-five minutes. She survived somehow. Finally, she was free to go.
Sore and soaking wet, Ashley entered the bathrooms, completely empty at such a late hour. Standing in a stall, she reached under the folds of her skirt, closed her eyes and rubbed through the soft cloth of her panties, too ashamed to outwardly masturbate.
To masturbate at school. To masturbate after having her ass thoroughly spanked, crying like a little girl. Crying like a little girl while laying across a man's legs, having her wet panties pulled down to receive even more pain and humiliation.
Pain and humiliation that turned her on so, so much she could barely take it. Yielding under the man's hand, protesting only the mounting pain but nothing else. Pretending it's the pain that bothered her the most. A dirty little liar, little brat. She shaved her pussy clean the day before as if she knew what would happen and hoped for far more. A dirty little slut. Turned on by all the wrong things, playing a saint, touching herself at school like a pervert. If only Mr Anderson knew...
Ashley felt her legs shaking. Never before had her arousal grow so quickly from such velvet touches. The girl withdrew her hand when she was dangerously close to having an orgasm. Despite bold mind, she was too ashamed and stressed to climax in public -- she didn't deserve it anyway.
***
It took about a week of cooling down for Ashley to dare typing "schoolgirl spanking" into a search bar on the porn sites she frequented. It's not like she never looked up perverted themes like this before; it just felt so weird now, after her fantasies came back to bite her in the ass, figuratively and literally.
Did she sound so indecent like the girls in the videos, too? Could Mr Anderson see her pussy from behind, even though she kept her legs closed? Did he like what he was seeing? Could her moans, maybe, even if just a little bit, wake some arousal in him? Just like his strength and ruthlessness tugged at her strings despite her will...
Ashley kept playing the situation over again in her head. Every time the memory overlapped with a daydream, getting spicier in details, each richer in action and subtext: Ashley Bouchard, a model student, turning out to be a total disgrace to the school's name. Suspended, whispered about. Spanked repeatedly to tears in secret. Deceived into sucking a cock to avoid punishment. Seduced into total submission. Molested, finally violated on a teacher's desk. Orgasming against her will.
There she was, on her bed, half-dressed in her school uniform, mewling into her pillow, riding another one, sometimes gasping with fingers inside her pussy, sometimes edging herself into quiet, quivering orgasm.
Her imagination was powerful enough, but Ashley still enjoyed watching a girl flail helplessly in a man's lap. One thing disheartened her, though: rarely, if ever, those videos ended in... more. How could those men just send the girls away? Let them stand in the corner with their asses sore and in the open, and then just let them leave? Wasn't it cruel? Wasn't it... strange? How could a man not be turned on by this so badly he just couldn't help himself? Those poor girls...!
Ashley had to reconcile with the fact she was such a huge pervert that even porn wasn't there to fulfil her dirty fantasies. She simply had to suffer her fate.
When a video like this ended, Ashley usually imagined the girl - or herself - being told to stay in place. Be quiet, don't move. Then, being entered from behind against the desk she was spanked on. Wriggling and sobbing to no end, finally filled up how she secretly craved it. Sometimes it was violent and forceful, fueled by lust and anger. Sometimes it was just training in obedience and service.
The days passed by -- although quiet and well-behaved at school, Ashley was consumed with self-reflection.
There was that one boy who asked her out before. She grew so horny recently and very curious about manhood. Yet, was it fair to date him? She wasn't concerned about the guy guy, though -- how could she date anyone if the one who she kept dreaming about was Mr Anderson?
She was attracted to this man ever since she started high school. She started as a secret admirer, always prepared, staring intently, taking in every word and every gesture. He had no interest in his students, seemingly, always keeping distance, despite terse words of price and encouragement he delivered. Her unrequited desire rendered Ashley bitter and annoyed over the years, as she had to face him twice a week.
She knew he could never date her. Even if it was only for sex, if she tried her hardest to seduce him, it just wouldn't happen. She heard he was divorced. There was no way a man of his age and wisdom could be into her: a self-centered girl with a baby face, someone he got paid to teach things so obvious to him.
With the end of the school year she was probably never going to see him again -- that would be the end.
Fantasizing about her teacher, Ashley used to be shy even in her own head. She thought that once she imagined a scene too sexually explicit, she wouldn't be able to scramble it away from her mind anymore. Recently, she freed herself from such doubts.
Even in her fantasy world, Ashley wanted the blame to be on the guy. It was a man in power, who was the one to force himself on a smaller, shy female. Ashley always liked the imagery. Yet, she had a hard time imagining Anderson being violent in any way -- demanding, yes, but not violent. Therefore Ashley had to imagine herself -- seductive, provocative, with cleavage and short skirts, and him -- staring, wanting to touch her, to fuck her, but trying to fight it for professional reasons. And somehow -- as she feared -- those frequent fantasies made Ashley behave bolder in real life.
She managed, at least, to get his attention. She managed to make him mad, and it amounted to something. The image of him grew fuller. Now she could imagine him being forceful in a variety of ways. Now she knew how it felt to be exposed by him and knew how his hands felt on her body.
However, it was still difficult to imagine a dick inside of her. She craved to know how it would feel to be entered, filled up, fucked, pounded. She expected it to hurt, and even if it would pose an obstacle, she didn't mind. She wanted a man -- the man -- to make her cry; she wanted to plead and resist, even if just a little. The idea ripened inside her virgin mind and how her primal desires formed couldn't be helped anymore.
Her life would be easier, Ashley thought, if she could get a dildo and prepare for the things never to come as she imagined: both to appease her thirst and to make her pussy fit for a pounding, if she ever was to get one. However, the circumstances of an eighteen year old living with her parents in a small house, with no income of her own, rendered it practically impossible.
***
Ashley's only fully private time was when her parents worked night shifts, but it didn't happen very often. So when an opportunity presented itself with a certain date, Ashley decided to use it to the fullest.
On her way home, she bought a condom and a cucumber of good length and reasonable girth, in the state of being a little too ripe for an average customer to pay it any mind, but perfect for her desperate needs.
Once home, she didn't take her school attire off fully: she only put her jacket away. She washed the cucumber in hot water, kneading it. She took it upstairs and put the condom on it, putting it away for nowthen sat straight on her desk's chair. Phone in her hands, Ashley started to search for something to set her into a proper mood.
First video: a girl's ass sticking out, her cheeks peeking from under her skirt, all while she lays across a man's lap on the bed. Long hair covers her face and the man is out of the view. He starts spanking the girl and her skirt rides up her back. She sighs a little but takes it well; it's a deliberate punishment. Ashley couldn't wait to see the girl losing it, but sat through the whole progression without skipping. The girl's ass reddens up and Ashley hears first whimpers; after a cut the man rolls her panties out of the way, her ass pink all around. Once he hits -- and damn, he hits hard -- the girl squeals and starts to fidget in her position. Ashley started to feel tingling between her legs. The girl gasps for air, the man's hand makes her poor, sore asscheeks bounce. He makes her apologise while she sobs, then sends her away.
Second video, after some searching around: a girl taken from behind in a -- probably -- public bathroom. Her blouse is rolled above her tits, her pants are down. Both faces out of the frame, no talking: just the sounds and the motions. The guy holds up her leg and enters her. He starts fucking her slowly; soon his full lenght is going in and out; Ashley watched the motion, hypnotized. The girl has a hard time keeping it quiet and calm, but her body is secured tight in place for the guy who slams into her. He makes those grinding, long moves that make Ashley feel wet, ready and curious. The guy cums inside his girl and the video ends with cutting off.
Ashley exhaled. She felt quite ashamed of what she was going to do; since she could remember, masturbating with a cucumber was a running joke for all her classmates growing up. And there she was, about to do it.
***
The girl closed the curtains in her room; the only source of light was a small lamp in the corner. She unbuttoned her shirt and tossed it onto the bed, then removed her bra. Her pleated school skirt and white socks stayed on. Leaning on her desk, she slid down her underwear, then sat further back. It felt awkward -- but that's what she imagined while planning all of this. She drew one leg up and opened wide.
Here it goes.
Ashley fingered herself before many times, it couldn't be much of a hussle. It was exciting -- something new and somewhat shameful. With her spit, she moistened the cucumber's head, then teased herself up and down, up and down. Nothing too pleasurable, but the girl could feel the yearning growing in her clit. Once she knew where to aim to get it inside, she closed her eyes and pushed.
The head was wide and hard; it needs a little adjustment and a little extra stir. She breathed in and out, shakily, pushing some more. Her insides felt already full, even though she managed to take maybe two inches in. The way her pussy stretched around something going in felt weird but rewarding. From above she could see her clit peeking out; oh, she was not going to touch it. Slowly, her hand started to move the cucumber in and out.
It felt good -- and better with every quicker thrust.
Her left hand gripped the edge of the desk. Breathing through an opened mouth, Ashley threw her head back and let her imagination run the show.
His cock felt so hard inside her, moving so fast. He paid no attention to her needy clit. That's how hard and greedy she made him. She knows he's going to fuck her for hours until she's a mess, driven by sweet revenge -- or until someone walks in. He didn't spank, although he threatened to do so. But she was a good girl this time, willing to obey. Willing to do anything to avoid a spanking. She begged him not to do it. Then he looked at her with gracious pity and reached under her skirt, yanking her underwear down. She was already wet when he sat her up on his desk and opened her legs for good access. She looked down, with fear in her eyes, at his hands opening the flyer of his trousers and the shaft that sprung from his boxers. She was so wet when he aimed his cock at her pussy. "You wanted it all along," he said, pushing into her and immidiately starting to fuck her. He ordered her to keep quiet, but how could she?
In the real world, Ashley simply rammed the cucumber into her pussy until her muscles trembled as she moaned guttural, lusty sounds. Her climax was close. If she was to rub her clit, she knew she was going to burst and collapse. She rode the cucumber, rocking her hips. How more convenient it would be, if it was someone else fucking into her! But she wasn't giving up. Fighting for air, she pushed up from the inside, giving her clit the best without touching it. A few times she convulsed, almost there, fucking herself hastily, stopping while holding her breath: every time she was almost, almost, ALMOST there.
It was torture -- and Ashley loved every minute of it.
"Please, please, please..." she moaned to herself, or whatever power was responsible for giving her an orgasm. The power didn't listen to her pleas, however. As she was growing tired, Ashley decided to put one finger above her clit and push down gently, only as much as it was necessary. It didn't take much pressure or time to send Ashley into a fit of desperate cries, following a shiver and an intense squeeze her pussy gave the delightfully hard object inside her.
***
Coming down from cloud nine, Ashley climbed down from her desk. She removed her skirt and tossed it away, now only wearing her socks. She moved onto her bed, where she lay amidst scrambled pieces of her clothing and pillows. What an orgasm! She should treat herself one like this more often. Even though she could feel her insides burning a little now, it was totally worth it.
Ashley reached for her phone and lazily scrolled through her porn feed: it was either girls getting fucked or spanked. Idly she skipped from video to video until she could feel arousal growing in her again.
This time she made it quick, with a hand between her tights, rubbing her clit relentlessly until she came. Then, without stopping -- although at first it felt somewhat unpleasant and with her privates so weary already, a little painful -- she rubbed with her whole palm until she came again.
After three orgasms in total and two in a row, Ashley couldn't quiet her breathing. Instinctively, she wanted to have another one -- and another, and another. Her body gave up, though, and the girl fell into a nap, from which she woke up sobered up, although sweaty, with her privates still throbbing with a strange, numb sensation.
It was night time already; she must have slept for approximately two hours.
With mind still hazy, Ashley reached for her improvised toy. Her hands felt her naked body up. Horny was all what she was. Hungry, yet tired. Sensitive and perverted, craving pain and torment. One hand teased her opening to make it wet again, the other teased her nipple. Ashley licked the tip of the cucumber and pressed it down. Her clit hurt when touched directly; the toy slipped lower and Ashley pushed it inside again.
This time she met more resistance; her body didn't seem as willing and needy as before. Ashley indulged in playing with the circumstances -- with two inches filling her from the inside, she rubbed her stretched clit gently in slow intervals, prodding, playing with pain, until her imagination flourished again. It wasn't any kind of scenario -- rather pure yearning for sensations and movements. She pushed the cucumber further, slowly but surely, grunting loudly and whining as she forced herself to take an imaginary dick. It didn't grant her pussy so much pleasure as before, yet Ashley enjoyed pushing the edge of discomfort, focusing on how deep her toy went and how insanely full it made her feel.
If only she had a vibrator that she could put against her clit now... or rather, if someone could fill her up with his dick, restrain her, then put a vibe against her; she would squirm against the man forcing her to stay on his dick until he could feel her pussy squeeze an orgasm out of him.
"Oh, it hurts..." Ashley mumbled to herself and to this both imaginary and real torment. "Ugh..."
Her hips rocked chaotically as she struggled to cum in unfamiliar situation. It felt good and horrible at the same time. She felt full and almost fed up, not really close to a climax but rather close to crying. Was she drawing herself crazy? Perhaps, but she couldn't stop. Louder and louder, Ashley cried, moaned and groaned, thrashing around on her bed.
"It hurts so bad..." she mused softly, her hips in the air, "please, I can't cum anymore...!"
Eventually, she had to stop. Her hands grew so tired. The cucumber slipped out of her; Ashley laid down on her side, panting, regaining composure. She just needed someone to fuck her like this. Was it so much to ask?
She stood up, all wobbly and dazed. It felt funny to walk; in a way she felt still full, yet frustrated. She dressed herself and walked down to throw the evidence of her crime into the trash bin outside.
Her parents would be home soon. It was better to just take a shower and go to sleep.
And when Ashley stood in the shower, hot water hitting her skin, she didn't think much. Except, maybe, she thought that Mr Anderson had all the reasons to belt her ass now. And even if he didn't know that, she had to get him to do it somehow."
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