Detention Part Two: DP The Principal Way

Poor Samantha Rone can’t catch a break. She drifts in class, earns detention, and watches the hours stretch thin as fog. At least she can hide inside her head, replaying what Miss Vespoli did to her last week: a slim plug in her ass, long fingers working her from the front, every thrust another jolt to keep her from screaming out loud. She loses herself again. This time the daydream costs her a trip to the principal’s office, where Dana DeArmond sits waiting. She knocks once, steps in, and closes the door behind her. Miss DeArmond lectures in that low velvet tone Samantha secretly adores. Detention again. Punishment. The words roll off her like warm water; all she hears is the promise of discipline. She nods, feigns compliance, then turns back down the hall, legs already weak with fatigue and want. Her eyes slide shut just before the classroom door. When they open, the room has changed. Same heavy oak desk, but now Dana and Miss Vespoli lean over it, mouths locked, skirts hiked to their waists. Neither woman looks surprised to see her. Dana straightens first, licks her lower lip, and points to the carpet between her heels. She tells Samantha she is about to learn a lesson she will feel every time she tries to nap in class again. Miss DeArmond slaps the soft inside of one thigh, then the other, forcing her stance wider. At the same time Miss Vespoli’s tongue circles each nipple, flicking until the buds are stiff and aching. Dana opens the top drawer, pulls out a thick strap-on slicked in lube, and holds it at Samantha’s lips. “Wet it,” she says. Samantha takes it deep, drool sliding down the shaft, until Dana yanks it free and positions the flared head against her cunt. One thrust and she is filled, legs shaking, the toy pounding hard enough to make her voice crack when she begs for more. Dana lifts her off the shaft, turns her around, and guides her down onto the second cock jutting from Miss Vespoli’s harness. The stretch in her ass is immediate and blinding. Samantha sits, impaled, while Miss DeArmond pushes fingers past her lips and Miss Vespoli’s hands cup her breasts. Every hole is taken, rhythm locked between two older women, pleasure burning straight up her spine. She comes hard, cunt pulsing around empty air, ass clenching on the buried shaft, a wet rush soaking Dana’s wrist. The echo of it still rings as the real bell sounds, dragging Samantha back to a desk, soaked panties, and the dangerous glint in Miss Vespoli’s eye. Maybe next time, she thinks, she’ll let the daydream last longer.