The Flute Teacher and the White Cotton Panties

by Emma St Giles

  ‘Yes sir.’ I reached out to the music stand and started turning back the pages of the music book. Then I pushed it and let it drop to the floor. ‘Oh, silly me!’ I bent down to pick up the book, making sure that I was facing him. The top of my blouse fell open and I took my time, giving him plenty of opportunity to get a good look at my tits, perfectly displayed in the cups of my white lacy bra. When I got back up the look on his face told me that it had worked. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and I wondered if his cock was starting to stiffen inside his pants.

  I smiled at him and sniffed. ‘Just need to get a tissue from my bag.’ Without waiting for an answer I went to the bag, which was sitting on the floor just inside the door. Bending my knees slightly I bent over and pretended to look through it. My skirt rode up, giving him a good view of my bottom and my white cotton panties. I resisted the urge to wiggle my rear end slightly. ‘Mmm, now where are they,’ I said and bent a little lower. My skirt lifted up even higher, and my panties slid into the crack between my bottom cheeks.

  When I stood up he was looking dazed and uncomfortable. I smiled again. ‘Silly me, I must have left my packet of tissues at home. I’ll just nip to the bathroom and get one.’ I turned and skipped quickly out of the room.

  The bathroom was at the end of the corridor. Once inside, I locked the door behind me, and reached up under my skirt to pull my knickers out of my crack. Then I let out a long breath. What was I doing? I looked at myself in the mirror over the hand basin. I was eighteen years old and had finished my first year at college, but the me in the mirror, dressed in a blue checked skirt, white blouse, and wearing brown sandals and white ankle socks, could have been the me of two years ago, when Mr Conway taught me flute at school. Even my hair, which was tied back in a bunch behind my head, was the same as I’d worn it at school.

  The girl in the mirror met my stare and we stood there looking at each other for a minute. Then, the decision made, I started unbuttoning my blouse. As each button popped open, my stomach gave a little flutter of excitement and my mouth went dry at the thought of what I was about to do. I let the blouse fall to the floor and unhooked my skirt, letting it drop to make a puddle of blue around my ankles. Stepping out of it I reached behind my back and unhooked my bra. I used to be self conscious about the size of my nipples, which had seemed to me to be far too large for my breasts, but now I was rather proud of them. I shifted from side to side, admiring their pert, pink erect towers from different angles. I had already decided to keep my panties on, at least for now, but I wasn’t sure about my sandals. It was the white ankle socks that made up my mind. They just seemed to go so well with the panties, the two coming together to create just the image I wanted for my unsuspecting flute teacher. I was ready!

  I went to the door and, taking care to make no noise, I unlocked it. Outside the door, in the corridor, there was silence. I opened it a tiny amount and peered out. Nothing. The door to the music room had swung closed behind me, and now the muffled sound of a flute being played reached me. Mr Conway must have been wondering why I was taking so long. It was time to show him.

  Chapter 3 – Spanked

  I left the safety of the bathroom and walked along the corridor, wearing nothing but a pair of slightly damp, small, white cotton panties, brown sandals and white ankle socks. I stopped outside the door to the music room and rested my hand on the cold, brass doorknob. The music was louder, reminding me that he was there, just the other side of the door. I felt dizzy with excitement.

  I took a deep breath, let it out, and I turned the knob, pushed the door open and entered the room. Mr Conway was standing by his desk with his back to me, playing something light and airy—Schubert, I think. I stood there, almost naked, and for a second I considered creeping back out of the room again and going back to the bathroom to get dressed.

  And then it was too late—he stopped playing and his body froze, perhaps alerted to my presence by the scent of my female excitement. He turned around. There was a bang as his flute hit the ground, and his face froze into a startled mask. ‘What . . . Antigone . . .’

  I smiled, letting my body work its magic on him. ‘I have an apology, Mr Conway . . . Sir.’ I took a step towards him. ‘You see, the reason my playing hasn’t been very good is that I haven’t been practising.’

  He dragged his eyes away from my naked flesh. ‘Antigone. You must go and get dressed immediately.’ It sounded more like he was begging me than telling me. I had him.

  ‘All right,’ I agreed. At the same time I sank to my knees in front of him, looking up into his face. ‘But I think you need to punish me first.’

  ‘Punish you?’

  ‘Yes. For not practising. I want you to put me over your knee, and pull down my panties, and give me a good hard spanking.’ As soon as I said this, I could feel the excitement building in him. I stood up again. ‘We can pretend we’re back at school if you like.’

  I knew the exact moment that he gave in to the fantasy. His face cleared and the stammering flute teacher, confronted by a semi-naked pupil, was gone, replaced by the old Mr Conway, the disciplinarian that I’d been scared of all those years ago at school.

  He sat down on the settee and gestured to me. ‘Come over here, Antigone. Up on the settee.’ My heart fluttering, I climbed up onto the settee next to him. My knees sank into the cushion for a second, and then I lowered myself across his lap, wriggling forwards slightly to get my bottom into position. I lowered my head, breathing in the musty smell of the old furniture, and I arched my back slightly, raising my bottom up. I was ready.

  ‘You’ve been naughty, Antigone,’ he said in a firm voice. ‘For years you have not practised enough. You have turned up to lessons and expected to get away with doing just enough, but that’s not good enough any more.’

  ‘Yes sir,’ I whispered. ‘What are you going to do to me?’

  I felt his hands on my bottom, and a moment later he pulled down my panties, hooking his thumbs under the elastic of the waist and slipping them across my smooth, expectant skin. Although the room was warm, the air felt cool on my now quivering cheeks. ‘You need to learn, Antigone,’ he said. ‘So I am going to give you a very hard spanking.’

  ‘Yes sir,’ I repeated. I shut my eyes and my cheeks tensed, ready for their punishment.

  His left hand moved up into the small of my back, holding me firmly in position, and I sensed his right hand being raised up.

  CRACK! He delivered a stinging slap to my right cheek.

  ‘Ahhh!’ It hurt. I felt my mouth form into a little ‘O’ of outrage and my body jerked. It would have lifted up off the settee if he hadn’t been holding me in place. CRACK, CRACK, CRACK, CRACK, CRACK. A further five slaps were delivered to the same cheek in quick succession, each one worse than the one before. At the end my cheek felt as if it was on fire.

  ‘Please sir . . .’ I started to say.

  ‘No!’ I cried, as he delivered six more slaps, this time to the my left cheek.

  He paused. ‘Yes, your bottom’s already going nice and red, Antigone. I don’t think you’ll be sitting down very easily this evening.’

  ‘Yes sir,’ I whispered. I was sure he was right. My pert little bottom was starting to feel as if it was twice its normal size, and I could feel the heat radiating off it.

  ‘Rhythm, Antigone. It’s not just music that has rhythm.’ SLAP, SLAP—his hand delivered another two blows, first to my left cheek, then the right. I moaned and pushed against his firm left hand, which was still resting firmly on my back. My panties had worked their way down to my knees, and I felt them stretch as my legs parted slightly.

  Through the burning sting of my now well disciplined bottom, I became aware of two things—one, I could feel something hard pushing against my belly, and two, I was becoming very excited. I was sure that I would leave a damp patch on him when he eventually let me get up. ‘Rhythm,’ he repeated, and he spanked me again. And each slap made me more horny. I wriggled around some more, partly from the spanking
, but also to work on his now throbbing cock, which was pushing insistently against my stomach. And at the same time I worked my legs further apart, until I felt my moist and swollen lips open slightly.

  He gave me an extra hard slap on each cheek, which made me move around on his penis even more, and gave me the opportunity to part my legs a bit further. Then he rested his hand on the bottom cheek that was closest to him. The tips of his fingers were resting between my buttocks, at the top of the crack that led to my expectant female moistness. We stayed there for several seconds, not talking. The only sound was our laboured breathing. Me, from my spanking and my excitement, and him from having just disciplined a teenage girl wearing nothing but a pair of small, white panties, which were now down around her knees.

  It was time. ‘Please, will you touch me,’ I asked in a little voice. I moved my bottom slightly, so he would be in no doubt what I wanted. I could sense him fighting the urge. ‘Please sir,’ I repeated. ‘I am feeling so horny.’

  His hand moved, tracing the line of my bottom crack down between my thighs. I felt his fingers move gently across the smooth skin of my inner thigh, and then lightly running the length of my pussy lips. I moaned, and raised my bottom up. ‘Oh god, yes.’ The finger reached the far end of my lips and, after pausing for a moment, it moved on to lightly brush the tip of my clitoris. It was as if someone had lit a firework inside me and I gasped, pushing myself insistently against his finger.

  Now the teasing finger retraced its path back along my lips, stopping halfway. In one smooth, insistent movement he pushed his finger into me. ‘Oh Christ, yes!’ I gasped. The finger slid back out, but before I had a chance to complain he reinserted two of his fingers, sliding them in and out in a steady rhythmic beat.

  ‘More?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, more,’ I moaned. A third finger joined the other two, stretching my lips wide apart. ‘I’m going to come,’ I gasped. The fingers continued sliding in and out of me, and as my orgasm grew inside me my body started moving in time with the teasing digits.

  It didn’t take long. Within seconds I felt a huge wave of pleasure rearing up ready to engulf me. I gritted my teeth and concentrated, holding it back for as long as I could, then I let go. It was a good thing he lived on his own—the scream of pleasure I let out would have brought the entire household running. The universe shrank until it was just me and the unbearable waves of ecstasy that possessed me.

  Afterwards I lay there, across his lap, my bottom stinging and my breath coming in long gulps. Eventually I raised my head slightly and looked up at him. ‘Thank you sir,’ I said. He looked back at me. His eyes told me that he was struggling to come to terms with what he had just done. ‘It’s all right sir, I’m over eighteen, you know. We’re not at school any more.’

  I got up off his lap and slipped off my knickers. I stood in front of him, letting my naked body go to work on him again. Then I knelt down and moving his unresisting hands I undid his belt and pulled down his pants. His erection was straining against his underpants, demanding release. Without giving him time to think I pulled them down, too. His cock sprang to attention. It was long and thick, and the large, purple head was oozing slightly. I imagined his semen, desperate for release inside his body.

  I climbed back onto the settee, one leg either side of him, looking directly into his face. ‘Everything in life has a rhythm,’ I told him, and reaching down I took hold of his penis and guided it up in between my legs. ‘Rhythm,’ I repeated, and I slid all the way down onto him. He groaned, throwing his head back as if he was staring at the ceiling. This wasn’t going to take long. I started riding him, sliding up and down his shaft. As I worked on him I imagined his length glistening with my female lubrication.

  I was right, it didn’t take long. Within seconds his hands grasped my hips, pulling me down onto him until I was grinding against the base of his manhood. He let out a strangled gasp, and he climaxed, pumping waves of his hot semen deep into me.

  Afterwards, I got up and picked up my panties. As I stepped back into them, I smiled at him. ‘You know, I think I might still have my school uniform at home.’

  *****

  Later that evening, I sat at the dinner table with my parents and my little sister, Jacinta, and we talked about what we’d done that day, while we ate platefuls of my Mum’s homemade lasagne.

  ‘How was your flute lesson, Antigone?’ Mum asked.

  I felt my face redden. ‘Err, it was good Mum,’ I stammered. Luckily, Mum was too busy with her food to notice my reaction, but when I looked around, Jacinta’s green eyes were fixed on me, a thoughtful look on her face. I could feel my face getting redder at her attention and I hurriedly looked down at my plate. When I glanced up about fifteen seconds later, she was still looking at me, with a small, knowing smile playing around the corners of her mouth.

  Chapter 4 - My Sister’s Double Act Offer

  After dessert, homemade apple pie with whipped cream on the side, I excused myself and escaped to my bedroom. I shut the door, switched on the lamp on the bedside table, and opened my wardrobe door. There was a long metal rail running the length of the wardrobe, and I was confronted with multiple T-shirts, pairs of faded denims and all the other kind of clothes the normal, grungy college teenager wears. I reached along the rail to the right and slid the hangers across to the left, revealing the unworn and forgotten clothes that had accumulated at the far end. There were a few dresses, a couple of blouses and a worn sweatshirt that two summers ago had been my all time favourite top. But no school uniform. I reached across to the other side of the wardrobe and slid the clothes back the other way—more dresses, more blouses. Then I noticed a flash of light blue at the very end. I reached in and pulled out a wooden hanger. On it were a thin, blue checked, cotton skirt, and a white blouse with the badge of my old school on it. I’d found it!

  I closed the wardrobe door and laid the uniform on the bed. I imagined wearing it for Mr Conway. I pulled my top off over my head and picked up the school blouse. It had a slight, musty smell with maybe just a hint of something that reminded me of classrooms and lessons. I put it on. Lengthwise it was ok, but it was a little bit tight around the chest. When I looked in the mirror, my nipples were clearly visible, like little bullets under the thin material.

  Satisfied, I picked up the skirt and unzipped my denims—and then, without warning, the bedroom door opened and Jacinta walked in.

  Jacinta was my little sister, but in some ways, lots of ways, she felt like a big sister. She was taller than me, and she undeniably had much larger breasts. Her light, auburn hair, which was long and worn down to her shoulders, shone with conditioner and youth, framing a round, attractive face, with green eyes that seemed to see everything. Her chest was complimented by a narrow waist, long legs, and a full, well rounded female bottom. Her every movement spoke of her female sexuality. She was at the height of her attractiveness and she knew the power that she had over men.

  ‘Well, I have to admit that I never thought of that,’ she commented.

  ‘I’m just making some space in my wardrobe,’ I said. Even to me the words sounded hollow.

  ‘Of course you are,’ she agreed. She picked up the skirt. ‘Why don’t you put it on, and I’ll tell you how you look.’ I took it from her, but instead of putting it on I returned it to its hanger. Then I slipped out of the blouse, and returned them both to the rail in the wardrobe. As I walked across the room in my bra and panties I could feel her eyes appraising me. I quickly pulled on my dressing gown, hiding my body from her.

  ‘There’s no need to be shy,’ she said. ‘We’re sisters, and I always thought you’d have to like cock just as much as I do.’ I looked at her. There was less than a year between us. She was just eighteen, and I was nearly nineteen. But, despite the closeness of our ages, we had never had a conversation like this before.

  ‘He likes to spank me,’ I said, sitting down on the bed and taking care not to look at her. ‘And then we fuck, or I suck him off.’ I hadn’t planned
to tell her that, it suddenly just came out. I waited for her reaction, but it wasn’t what I’d expected.

  She sat down next to me. I could smell her perfume. ‘I think I’ve still got my uniform somewhere. Perhaps we should do a double act on him one day. Just think what the two of us together could do to him.’ She laughed. ‘He’d be spraying come everywhere.’

  A vision flashed into my mind of Jacinta sitting on Mr Conway’s face while I rode his cock. Jacinta got up from the bed. Before she left she rested a hand on my shoulder. ‘It’s all right, your secret’s safe with me . . . but the offer of the double act is still there if you decide you want to. I think it might be fun.’ The door closed behind her and I was left sitting on the bed, thinking about what had just happened.

  Chapter 5 – Femdom or Submissive?

  After our conversation that evening, Jacinta acted as if nothing had happened. And three times a week for the next three weeks I left my home and walked the fifteen minutes to Mr Conway’s house for my flute lesson. And each time I had with me, in a bag slung over my shoulder, my flute, my sheet music and my school uniform—skirt, blouse, white ankle socks, brown sandals and, most important of all, white cotton panties. In front of the mirror at home, I experimented with black and red, and lace and silk, but they just didn’t feel right.

  On arriving at the house, I would excuse myself and go to the bathroom, where I would quickly change from my normal clothes to the uniform. And as I did so, I could feel myself drifting back in time, back to the days when Mr Conway was my real teacher. I knew it was a fantasy, but it felt real to me.

  I had to admit that my flute playing was coming on. Knowing I would be spanked for any mistakes had actually made me practice more. The only problem was that Mr Conway had become more and more strict as each lesson went by. I knew that before the hour was over I was going to be over his knee, my panties pulled down and that my bottom was going to be on the receiving end of at least a dozen stinging slaps from his hand. And after I had been disciplined, I would either suck him, or ride him, until one way or the other he filled me with long, shuddering spurts of hot, salty come.