Who Runs the Overton School for Girls? By Montrose The new principal thought he did until Judy set him straight Mr. Sanders sat back in his big leather chair behind his spacious mahogany desk. As an accountant, he disapproved of such opulent furnishings. But as the newly assigned Principal of the Overton School for Girls he understood the need to set a good appearance for perspective parents. They paid good money to send their little darlings to Overton. With grades ranging up to college prep, the school was an excellent way to prepare today's leading young women for the future, or so he had been reading in the school literature. His first day! His new office was a sunken affair. People coming from the main school area accessed his office through his secretary's office and then stepped into a gallery. His walls were lined with books from his lower level on up through the gallery one flight up. The room was oval with twin stairs coming down from the double doors above. Off to the side on the lower level, there was a private bathroom. He had been shocked at such trappings when he first took the job. Now he rather enjoyed the seclusion. And, it gave him the privacy needed to handle the sticky, disciplinary side of the job. Mr. Sanders gulped. He was much more at home with balancing books. Unruly girls that show disrespect for teachers was not something he ever had to deal with as an accountant. Now, well, he would just have to grow into the job. Surely the young lady hadn't actually backed Mr. Sykes, the gym teacher, into the bathroom and dunked his head in the toilet. She probably just called him a name or something. Rumors were tiresome things. And suddenly, there she was standing on the lading over his desk. Mr. Sanders looked up. Judy Macintyre smiled down at him with her hands on her hips. She was a gorgeous, athletic looking blonde girl in her last year here. Miss Hawthorn, the secretary ran in after her. "Please Miss, let me at least announce you! I'm sorry sir, she just barged past me." Judy turned and faced Miss Hawthorn, who stood a head shorter than the girl. Judy put one long-fingered hand on Miss Hawthorn's face and sent her sprawling back through the doors. Miss Hawthorn screamed and landed hard. "I'll take it from here, sister." Judy said. "Be a good girl and don't let anyone interrupt us." Then Judy closed the doors. She locked them. From below Mr. Sanders couldn't help notice that he was looking right up Judy's pleated skirt. He gulped again. My but those cheeks were nicely rounded. And such long legs, too. He forced himself to look down. "That is n-n-no way to treat your elders, uh... young lady." He managed to stammer. "Are you talking to me?" Judy asked, still standing over Mr. Sanders' desk. "Of course I am." "Then look up at me. Or are you some sniveling little shit that can't even look a girl in the eye?" "Now see here!" Mr. Sanders started. He looked up again. He gasped. Now Judy was looking down at him and he was looking up the front of her skirt. The sight of her skimpy white panties took his breath away. "Is that... is... is... that... uh... dress... of actual... that is to say... the length... is it... standard... uh..." Judy laughed. "You like it?" she asked as she flipped it up. "I had it shortened so I could catch the breeze on my ass. I like how that feels." "Dear god." Moaned Mr. Sanders. He was in over his head. He felt his cock grow hard. "Oh dear god." He moaned again. Now he couldn't even stand up without letting her know she had gotten to him in a big way. Judy walked down the steps. "You called me out of class, little man. I was having fun teasing Mr. Smyth by swinging my legs apart in front of him, so this had better be good." She reached his level and strode over. She sat on his desk and put one oxford saddle shoe up on the arm of his chair. He could actually feel the heat from her groin as it stared him in the face. It was so close. And so amazingly inviting. "So what did you want?" she purred. "What I want?" he replied in a trance, gazing at the mound hidden in her panties. "Did you call me in here just to cop a view of my snatch?" asked Judy. "Well, get an eye full." She reached down and pulled her panties to the side. Mr. Sanders was treated to a first hand view of Judy's wonderfully formed, blond tufted pie. He choked and turned deep red. He clutched his chest. Judy laughed. She let go and her panties slid back, half way. Finally anger drove Mr. Sanders to action. He stood up. "Now see here young lady! This institution has had enough of your impertinent behavior!" Judy stood up and stepped toe to toe with Mr. Sanders. "Is that so?" she said. He couldn't help notice that her ample chest pressed into his collar bones. Her chin was even with his scalp. And my, how had he missed noticing how wide her shoulders were under her white blouse. "What are you going to do, little man?" she purred down at him. "Spank me?" "That is my prerogative. The school allows it." He was sweating hard. Judy smiled. "I sure would like to see you try it." Mr. Sanders backed up a step. Judy followed. "What would it take? Hmm? What would it take to make you leap into action, little man?" In a flash, Judy struck Mr. Sanders in the face with an open hand. The slap made his glasses fly off and land in a corner. Mr. Sanders raised his hands. Judy pushed them down and slapped him twice more. He was backed all the up to the bookshelves now. "You gonna spank me now, little man?" "You damn well deserve it!" he shouted back with tears of pain in his eyes. "Well, here it is." Judy turned around and bent over. She placed her hands on his desk and spread her legs. Her short skirt rode up, exposing the bottom half of her ass cheeks. Mr. Sanders gasped. Judy rolled her eyes. "Are you just going to stand there beating off or are you gonna start spanking me?" Anger rose again. Mr. Sanders grabbed the paddle from the shelf next to him and brought it down with all his might across Judy's exposed cheeks. She yelped and jumped a bit. "Not bad, little man," she panted. "But put your back into it this time." He smacked her ass again. The wooden paddle vibrated in his hand. Her firm cheeks gleamed red. He swung again and again. Judy stood there, taking it with only a minor grunt or yelp. After about ten smacks, Mr. Sanders' arm was slacking as was his anger. "Oh for Christ's sake!" Judy snapped as she spun around. "Let me show you how that's done." Before he could even try to stop her, Judy snatched the paddle away from him. She sat down in his chair and pulled him over her lap so that he lay prone, ass up. She held him down with one arm. Try as he might, he couldn't get up. He couldn't get free. With one arm and her legs she held him captive. She spanked once him with the paddle. Mr. Sanders yelped, "Stop!" "Oh I'm just getting warmed up, sugar." It was a nightmare. By the time Judy stopped, it felt like his ass was on fire. He cried like a baby. Judy tossed the paddle into a corner. She pushed Mr. Sanders off of her lap. He fell in a wriggling pile at her feet. "Lick my shoes, little man. I think I stepped in something." She stuffed one of her oxfords in Mr. Sanders' face. "I said LICK!" She kicked his right eye. Mr. Sanders licked. As he cleaned off the bottoms of her shoes, Judy riffled through his desk. She looked through private papers. She flipped through student records. She took whatever she liked and made a mess of the rest. Eventually she got curious. "So what was it you called me in here for anyway?" "Gym teacher... Sykes..." gasped Mr. Sanders. He kept licking. He didn't want to get spanked again. "What? Just because I gave him a swirly?" Judy laughed. "Swirly's aren't so bad! Let me show you!" She hopped up and grabbed Mr. Sanders by the tie. She hauled him up to his toes and dangled him along as they headed for his private bathroom. "I used to give the old principal swirlies all the time. You'll get used to it." Without ceremony, Judy stuffed Mr. Sanders' head into the toilet bowl. "Keep it there." She warned. Mr. Sanders did as told, even though toilet water ran into his ears. Judy dropped her panties and sat on the toilet, stuffing Mr. Sanders' head deeper into the water. She peed on him. Then she flushed, still sitting on the toilet, with Mr. Sanders' head in it. She flushed again. Then she stood. "See?" she asked. "That's not so bad!" Mr. Sanders fell back sputtering and gasping for air. He was red with humiliation. "It was... terrible..." he gasped. She threw him a towel. "Would you rather go back to spankings?" "NO! PLEASE!" "Okay, then. Kiss my ass and tell me you liked the swirly." Judy turned around and crossed her arms. Mr. Sanders looked at her firm back. If he jumped up could her mash her head into the door jam? With this advantage could he overcome her and subdue her? If he did, could he take her up the ass for all she had done to him? His cock begged him to try. "I'm waiting." Said Judy. She flexed her butt cheeks at him. Every move she made showed she had the grace of a tigress. She was six feet, three inches tall and maybe 190 pounds. She was packed with energy, youth and speed. Mr. Sanders sighed. He was five feet nine inches tall and 150 pounds. He was also 48 years old and stiff in the joints. Mr. Sanders crawled to his knees and kissed Judy's sweet, round ass cheek. "Thank you for the swirly, Miss Macintyre," he said. Judy spread her cheeks. "Not like that shit-head. I want you to French-kiss my asshole. Come on. Stick it right up there." Mr. Sanders paused. Judy slapped his face. "NOW!" Mr. Sanders rammed his tongue up her butt. "Thank you, Niff Nacintywe," he slurred as he probed her anis. "Da thwirly wath wonderpul." Judy rocked her hips on his face and moaned. She liked his tongue up her butt, apparently. After some time, Judy grabbed Mr. Sanders' tie and dragged him back into his office. Mr. Sanders didn't even have time to get his feet under himself. She pulled him up and dropped him on his desk, face up. She climbed up onto his chest and pinned his arms with her knees. She slapped him in the face a few times. Not hard. Just slapping. "Please stop," he said. She slapped him again. "You got a black eye from when I kicked you. Did you know that?" she asked. She slapped him again. "Please..." She slapped him again. "Please..." Mr. Sanders tried again. She slapped him again. "Please what?" Judy asked. "Please hit you harder? Okay." She slapped him harder. Very hard. SLAP "No!" SLAP "Please!" SLAP "STOP!" SLAP "Make me, little man." SLAP SLAP SLAP SLAP SLAP SLAP Mr. Sanders began to cry. Judy sighed. "Had enough?" SLAP "Yeah," she said. "I think I've made my point." She raised her hand for another slap, but held it. Mr. Sanders winced. "Can you tell me what my point is, little man?" she asked. "That I will never again question anything you do? That I will stay out of your way?" he asked. SLAP "Nice try, and true," said Judy. "But that was not my point. No. My point is, you are my bitch." SLAP "What are you?" she asked. "I am you bitch." SLAP "LOUDER!" "I AM YOU BITCH!" SLAP "AGAIN!" "I AM YOU BITCH!" SLAP "Good boy. Good bitch." Judy slid her hair pie up onto Mr. Sanders' red, swollen face and smothered him. He tried to not struggle (like a good bitch), but survival instinct made him try. Of course it did no good. When he woke up Judy was gone, as were his pants, boxers and wallet. "Not a very good first day," he gasped as he pulled himself up from the floor. He winced. The paddle was stuck up his ass. Slowly he worked it out. Only then did he notice Miss Hawthorn standing nearby. "I brought the ointment and bandages, sir," she said. "She always had this effect on the previous principal as well." "Is that why he quit?" Mr. Sanders asked as Miss Hawthorn applied ointment to his ripped anis. "No. He quit because she told him to. Miss Macintyre said she wanted fresh meat." "Well, at this rate I won't stay fresh for long," Mr. Sanders moaned. Miss Hawthorn sat him up and handed him a pair of girl's gym shorts. "Miss Macintyre says you have to wear these for the rest of the day. She's run your suit pants up the flag pole. You're not allowed to get them down until sundown." Mr. Sanders put them on. Hey were quite short. His cock head hung out the left leg. "Does Miss Macintyre run this school, Miss Hawthorn?" asked Mr. Sanders. "Can you stop her sir?" Miss Hawthorn asked with a crooked smile. "Of course not." "Then I'm afraid she does." "Very well," Mr. Sanders sighed. "If I'm going to be someone's bitch, it might as well be to the person running the school." His penis leaped in the tight girl's gym shorts and stuck out further. Miss Hawthorn eyed it appraisingly. "I could... uh..." she licked her full lips, "see to that... swelling, too, sir... if you..." Mr. Sanders' cocked jumped and grew again at that news. "Very well," he said. He was past modesty at this point. The world had been turned on its head. Miss Hawthorn got down on her knees. She put her glasses on his desk and his cock in her mouth. She fondled his nuts with skillful fingers. Mr. Sanders petted his secretary's hair as she sucked him off. Who knew that Miss Hawthorn, with her lace collar up to her chin, gave champion quality head? Yes, this office came with some nice perks. But the one he really wanted was Judy. He crammed his bone hard into Miss Hawthorn's face. The woman seemed to have no gag reflex. Mr. Sanders hoped Judy would come visit him again soon.