Dive into the forbidden world of Penelope “Penny” Ashford, an 18-year-old Cyber Vixen who turns Cheltenham’s posh library into her dutty playground. With her Latin master, she explores rar thrills—tied wrists, ink-stained skin, and a climax that shatters silence. Ready for her beastly lesson?
The Cheltenham Ladies’ College library stood silent under the soft glow of desk lamps, its oak shelves groaning with leather-bound tomes and the musty aroma of centuries-old paper. Penelope Ashford, 18 and a vision of posh rebellion, lingered long after the final bell, her plaid skirt hiked scandalously high, white blouse unbuttoned to reveal a tantalizing glimpse of black lace lingerie. Her platinum blonde hair cascaded in perfect waves, blue eyes glinting with a wicked mischief that promised trouble. She perched on the edge of a polished table, legs parted just enough to tease, her freckled skin flushed with anticipation. Penny wasn’t here to conjugate Latin verbs—she was plotting a dutty escapade with her Latin master, Mr. Grayson, a 40-year-old toff whose posh accent sent shivers down her spine and straight to her aching pussy.
Grayson entered, his tweed jacket rumpled from a long day, spectacles perched precariously on his nose. He froze mid-step, catching Penny with her fingers buried under her skirt, lace knickers discarded on the floor, her wetness glistening in the lamplight. “Penny, what in heaven’s name are you doing?” he stammered, his voice clipped and authoritative, though his eyes betrayed a growing hunger.
“Oh, sir, I’ve been so naughty,” she purred, her posh drawl dripping with lust as she spread her legs wider, inviting him closer. “Caught me fingering myself—please, teach your dutty little scholar a lesson.”
His breath hitched, arousal battling his sense of decorum. He adjusted his glasses, stepping forward, the forbidden thrill of the empty school amplifying the tension. Penny slid off the table, her hips swaying with a deliberate tease, blouse gaping to expose her perky tits straining against the lace. She grabbed his tie, pulling him into her orbit. “I’m your wicked heiress, sir. Punish me proper,” she whispered, her breath hot against his neck.
Grayson’s resolve shattered. He spun her around, bending her over the table with a firm grip, her skirt flipping up to reveal her pert, freckled arse. His hands trembled as he ripped her blouse open, buttons scattering across the floor, lace bra barely containing her breasts. “You’re a disgrace,” he muttered, voice thick with desire, his fingers tracing her spine before dipping into the crack of her arse, circling her tight hole with a perverted intent.
“Rar, sir, don’t stop,” she moaned, arching into his touch, her pussy dripping onto the oak. He grabbed her school tie, looping it around her wrists, binding them tight behind her back—luxury bondage with a filthy edge. The silk bit into her skin, and she squirmed, her juices pooling beneath her. He spanked her with a leather-bound Virgil, the crack echoing through the silent library, leaving red welts that made her shriek. “Harder, sir, make me your dutty slut,” she begged, her posh accent fracturing with need.
Grayson obliged, alternating sharp slaps with slow caresses, his fingers sliding between her thighs to part her soaked folds. He teased her clit with agonizing circles, then plunged two fingers inside, curling them as she bucked, her wetness smearing the table. “You’re soaked, you little minx,” he growled, adding a third finger, stretching her, his thumb pressing against her arsehole with a perverse pressure. Penny’s moans grew louder, the risk of the night porter hearing them fueling her lust. Public poshing was her game, and this was rar.
Grayson’s fingers worked her with relentless precision, three in her dripping pussy, thumb circling her arsehole, stretching her to a trembling edge. Penny’s shrieks filled the library, but she craved more filth. She pulled her hands free from the loose tie, her eyes locking onto his trousers with a depraved hunger. “I need to worship it, sir,” she purred, unbuttoning him with greedy fingers. His average cock sprang free, rigid and pulsing, the head glistening with pre-cum, unremarkable but perfect in her eyes. She knelt, her bound blouse flapping, and wrapped her manicured fingers around his shaft, stroking slow, reverent, her touch a perverse prayer. She traced every inch—base to tip—her thumb circling the head, smearing pre-cum like holy oil, her nails grazing the sensitive underside with a teasing scrape. Penny spat on it, her spit mixing with his slickness, and pumped faster, her hand twisting with each stroke, the wet slap echoing off the shelves. She cupped his balls, rolling them gently, then tugged them, her fingers worshipping every ridge and vein, her blue eyes gazing up in adoration. “Rar, sir, your cock is divine—I’m your dutty little priestess,” she moaned, her posh accent thick with lust, kissing the tip between strokes, her tongue flicking out to taste him, her hand relentless, edging him until his thighs trembled, his groans a symphony of surrender.
Her own pleasure surged as she reached back, fingers sliding between her welted arse cheeks, probing her tight hole. She pushed one digit inside, gasping at the intrusion, then added a second, stretching herself with a perverse grin. The sensation—hot, forbidden—sent shivers up her spine, her pussy clenching around Grayson’s fingers as she fucked her arse with slow, deep thrusts. Ink from the quill smeared her tits, mixing with sweat and her juices as she rocked, her middle finger curling inside her arsehole, massaging the sensitive walls. “Oh, sir, I’m so dutty back here—feel how I play!” she moaned, offering him a view as she spread her cheeks wider, her hole glistening, the library a cesspool of her filth. Grayson’s eyes darkened, his cock twitching in her hand, the scene a rar tableau of depravity that pushed them both to the brink.
He turned her to face him, unbuttoning his trousers with shaky hands. His cock sprang free—average, unremarkable, but rigid with need, the head glistening with pre-cum. Penny licked her lips, eyes locked on his. “Let me taste it, sir,” she purred, and he guided her to her knees, her bound hands useless as she leaned forward. She took him in, her tongue swirling around the tip, savoring the salty tang. He groaned, hands tangling in her hair, guiding her slow, her lips stretching just enough to please. “Rar, you’re good at this,” he rasped, and she hummed, sucking deeper, her spit dribbling down her chin, a dutty mess.
Still, he teased further. He grabbed a quill from the desk, dipping it in ink, and traced dutty words—“whore,” “heiress”—across her tits, the cold liquid making her nipples harden into tight peaks. Penny giggled, then moaned as he used the quill’s feather to tickle her clit, the soft strokes driving her wild with every pass. “Rar, that’s filthy, sir—more!” she gasped, her body arching as he alternated feather and finger, edging her toward another climax. He smeared ink down her stomach, dipping the quill into her pussy juices, then licked it clean, his posh groan sending shivers through her. Her pussy pulsed, juices pooling on the table, and she begged, “Fuck me now, please, sir!”
Grayson positioned himself, his average cock sliding into her with ease, her wetness guiding him. He thrust slow at first, letting her feel every inch, his hands gripping her hips. Penny wrapped her legs around him, pulling him deeper, her tied blouse flapping as she rocked. “Harder, sir, make me your dutty toy,” she demanded, and he obliged, pounding her with a steady rhythm, the table creaking under them. Books fell, pages fluttering, the library a chaos of lust.
He leaned down, whispering Latin—“carpe noctem”—in her ear, his posh accent igniting her. He reached for a ruler from the desk, spanking her arse between thrusts, the wood leaving fresh welts that made her shriek louder. Penny’s pussy clenched, her second orgasm building, and she grabbed a book, rubbing its spine against her clit as he fucked her, the leather adding a perverse texture. “Rar, sir, I’m your dutty bitch—don’t stop!” she cried, her voice posh yet primal as she came again, squirting onto his cock, her juices soaking the table.
Grayson’s breath grew ragged, his thrusts faltering, but he wasn’t done with the foreplay. He pulled out, turning her onto her stomach, her arse in the air. He spat on her hole, working a finger inside, then two, stretching her with a perverted grin. “You like this, don’t you, you filthy girl?” he muttered, and she nodded, moaning, “Yes, sir, make it dutty—rar!” He grabbed a candle from a nearby shelf, dripping hot wax onto her back, the burn making her shriek and writhe, her pussy dripping anew. He fingered her arse deeper, the wax cooling into a perverse pattern, until she came again, her body shuddering, the library a symphony of her cries.
Finally, he re-entered her pussy, his average cock sliding in with a wet squelch, thrusting with renewed vigor. Penny rocked back, her tied blouse now a rag, ink and wax a mess on her skin. He reached around, rubbing her clit with his thumb, and she screamed, “Rar, sir, fill me!” He groaned, pulling out to spill his cum across her arse, a modest load that dripped down her thighs, mixing with her juices and wax. Penny smirked, rubbing it into her skin, her voice posh yet perverse. “Rar, sir, you’ve marked me proper—dutty and divine.”
They froze as footsteps echoed outside—the night porter, perhaps. Grayson scrambled to adjust his trousers, panic in his eyes, but Penny laughed, hopping off the table, her skirt still up, cum and ink a filthy tableau on her body. “Bad luck if he catches us, darling,” she teased, grabbing her knickers and sauntering to the window, her heels clicking. She glanced back, blue eyes glinting. “Next time, bring a friend—let’s make it rar.”
Grayson stared, speechless, as she vanished into the night, the library left in chaos—books scattered, table stained with ink, wax, and cum, the air heavy with her dutty legacy. Penny was a Cyber Vixen, and this scandal was merely the start of her perverse reign.