In Trouble

She came in to my office, stood in front of my desk, handed me a note, and waited.

“Mrs. Hawthorne says that you are in violation of the dress code,” I said.

“Yes, sir.”

I stood and walked around my desk. I gave her a careful look. “Your heels are high enough: I don’t need to get the ruler out. It’s clear at a glance that your kilt is short enough. That’s a standard uniform blouse. Everything is clean. Your hair is done properly.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, not quite suppressing a mischievous smile.

Then it hit me. Some of the girls, skittish about the brevity of their uniform kilts, had recently tried adding an illegal pair of bike shorts underneath. “Lift your kilt, please,” I instructed.

Her smile got even more saucy. She grabbed the hem and raised it high, revealing nothing beneath it but bare schoolgirl pussy.

It took me a moment to react, as I gazed at that beautiful flower. “What— How— Why are you not wearing panties, Miss?” I demanded.

She held her skirt high as she raised one foot to plant it on the seat of a chair; her glistening labia parted with a juicy squick. She reached down with a finger and began slowly to circle her clit. “I know I’m only a Junior,” she said in sultry tones. “But I thought being this naughty might convince you to give me a Senior girl’s punishment.”

— Frenulum