
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/3342767.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Crowley/Dean_Winchester
  Character:
      Crowley_(Supernatural), Dean_Winchester
  Additional Tags:
      Dubious_Consent, Underage_Dean, Teen_Dean, Female_Dean, High_School
      Student_Dean, principal_Crowley, Human_Crowley, Punishment, Spanking,
      Vaginal_Fingering, Multiple_Orgasms, Squirting, Forced_Orgasm,
      Overstimulation, Crying, Crying_Dean, Daddy_Kink
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-02-13 Words: 1479
****** At Wit's End ******
by creepstiel
Summary
     Deanna is no stranger to the principal's office, she's one those
     problem children, with a dead mommy and a disdain for any kind of
     authority figure. And her daddy issues. She likes to cut class, smoke
     stolen cigarettes and/or inexpertly rolled joints behind the
     vocational building, get crass with everyone, and just be general
     rebellious pain in the faculty's ass. Mr. Crowley, however, is 1000%
     done with this bullshit and takes drastic measures. Deanna
     Winchester, after all, is a drastic girl.
     So, while this may be new, it's clearly an unavoidable destiny.
Notes
     This porn exists thanks to this spnkinkmeme prompt:
      
     Deanna gets sent to the principal for some sort of infraction. He
     gives her lashes, spanking her with a paddle or a ruler. Her short
     skirt exposes her panties when she's bent over and after spanking her
     the principal notices her white panties are so wet they're
     practically see through. He rubs her through her panties until she's
     panting and pushing back against him. Optional for him to slip his
     fingers into her panties and finger her and/or push her panties to
     the side and fuck her.
     Principal can be anyone.
See the end of the work for more notes
Thwack.
Thwack.
Thwack.
In quick succession, Principal Crowley lands his weathered wooden ruler on Miss
Winchester's very perky, very naughty ass. He's actually lost count of how many
smacks he has given the poor girl, probably thirty or so. That's a rough
estimate.
You can't blame the man for getting distracted, especially with her flimsy
excuse for a skirt, a short insubstantial (read: slutty) thing that had managed
to ride up her thighs, exposing everything down there. Oh, the way that soft
white cotton stretches tight over her bum. She won't stop squirming, biting her
plump bottom lip raw. Fuck if that isn't a sight to behold. And if he isn't
mistaken, her eyes aren't the only thing getting wet.
"Now, now Deanna," he starts in a deceptively soothing tone, hushed but still
rough at the edges because that's just his nature, isn't it? He rubs his palm
across her lower back. "We're nearly finished. Just five more, you think you
can count them out for me?"
"I- I maybe..." Her voice wavers off, her breath coming out shaky and
deliciously uneven. Deanna is panting for him. "Yes."
Her bottom is smacked a few more times, hard. Crowley feels giddy just thinking
about how red her ass must be.
"One, two, thre-eee." The last word is stuttered and broken by a keening
whimper.
Her thighs are trembling, and Mr. Crowley would put his soul up for bet that
her little cunt is altogether throbbing. She is so goddamn wet, he can smell it
on her. She's positively dripping. He allows the ruler to slip out of his
grasp, lets it hit the linoleum with a satisfying clang. He gives up the
pretense of punishment now that he can see how much Deanna enjoys this. Her
cute white panties are damn near translucent by now.
Her pussy lips are swollen, he can feel as much when his wicked fingers rub
their way between her legs. She lets out a sexy little unh noise and rocks back
into his touch.
"Please."
It may be dubious but it's all the consent he needs.
She reaches down, no doubt ready to rid herself of her sticky, dampened
panties. He can see that she wants more than teasing over-the-fabric touches.
Mr. Crowley is having none of that.
"Stop that," he grits out, pinching her inner thigh. He can't wait to see how
ugly a bruise she gets; can't wait to suck on the tender, discolored flesh.
Because this can't be a one time thing. "Right now. Hands on the desk. Fist
'em."
Deanna tenses but spreads her legs wider—an easy invitation. Her pussy and
hands clench simultaneously. That's a neat trick. It earns, if not a reward, at
least some positive reinforcement.
Mr. Crowley shoves his hand into her panties, 0% finesse and 100% sloppy
eagerness in the face of things. They've got that in common.
He eases two fingers in, dragging them up and down her weeping inner walls.
Deanna, though tight, isn't exactly virgin tight. That makes it better. He
thinks innocence and uncharted territory is far overrated.
"That feel good?"
"Ugh, yes." Deanna grunts.
"How many fingers do you think have been in your cunt?"
She is wiggling and trying to fuck herself on them, but he prevents it by
moving with her. She pushes back, he pulls back.
"I don't know!" It comes out so fucking bratty, complete with a frustrated
huff.
He only smirks, amused.
"Brat," he mumbles. He gives her another warning pinch, this time on her those
sweet puffy lips. "Is that how you speak to Daddy?"
Deanna whimpers, her insides spasming around his fingers. It appears that he
hit a nerve, a delicious nerve.
"'M sorry, daddy."
He wasn't expecting her to actually enjoy that, to call him that. Daddy, of all
things. If he were a man of weaker will, the inside of his pants would be a
right creamy mess. As it stands, he has a damn impregnable will. It's strong
enough for him to feign an air of casualness anyway.
"You bet your ass you're sorry."
"Yeah, well I bet something else." Deanna squeezes her legs closed, clenches
her snatch in attempts to suck his fingers in deeper.
He really gives it to her then. He isn't going to quite call it fingerfucking,
but it's a close enough imitation. It could fool some, but he knows he's on
just the right side of gentle for it be honestly referred to as fingering. In,
out, in, out, in, out. What can he say, he has a soft spot for little Miss
Winchester. He wants to be a just a smidgeon of sweet with her. It proves
enough to get her off though, and that's the important part.
Hell, if his office hadn't been soundproofed, he would be finding himself
shortly unemployed—and in need of a lawyer—the noises and the volume on Deanna.
As her first orgasm racks her body, her toes curl and she g r o a n s. She
already starts to get the sleepy, dazed look too.
She has no idea.
"I'm not finished, sweetheart."
He plunges his fingers in deep, deeper. This is where she burns hottest. It's
the place to be if he wants his little princess thoroughly fucked. His thumb he
fervently rubs over her clit, watching her eyes quickly well over with tears.
If it wouldn't make for an awkward angle, Crowley would drape himself over the
girl just to lick those salty drops from her flushed skin. It's a hell of a
shame that he won't be tasting those today.
"What's, ah- ah- what is happening?" Her voice is higher pitched, breathless
and panicked. A darling squeak falls from her mouth.
Oh, she is a squirter.
He laughs, not unkindly, at this discovery.
His wrist is getting soaked from how badly Deanna is gushing. He's guessing no
one's ever made her squirt before or it just hasn't happened so intensely
because she seems confused. Embarrassed, even. She probably thinks she's just
wet herself.
A sob bursts up, but he just keeps adding pressure. He doesn't stop rubbing
there, rubbing her oversensitive nub, because she just keeps on keeping on. He
drags the pads of his fingers across her folds, then on her abused little
clitoris, over and over and over again—and she comes over and over and over
again.
"Daddy, daddy, daddy," she whimpers the D word repeatedly on a wet, drooling
string. "Too- it's too much. Too good, I can't- I can't..
Fuck."
"You can."
And just to prove a point, Crowley forces one last orgasm out of her.
Her legs look ready to give out, so pushes her onto his desk with a put upon
sigh. Ah, a principal's work is never done. He gives her a few minutes to get
feeling back in all the places that ought to be feeling things. Then it's
business as usual.
Well, business as will be usual soon.
"Sorry, darling. This part isn't sexy at all, but it's necessary."
He hands her a handkerchief to wipe her sensitive bits off, turning his back on
her to offer a sense of privacy. He knows he wouldn't want anyone staring at
him while he half-assedly cleans bodily fluids from his orifices. It only seems
right to let her hang onto some of her dignity. It's that whole soft spot
thing.
"Thanks," she husks the word out, voice raw.
He can hear her sit up, a telling rustling of clothes. There is a quiet
sniffling.
"I'm...uh-" a hiccup interrupts her. "I'm decent."
He scoffs.
"You're hardly decent, look at you." He tsks but refrains from any other
remarks, just fetches his overcoat from the rack.
The smile she gives him when he lays that coat over her shoulders is sort of
distracting.
"Your skirt is ruined," he says, flippant. "And you're going to need something
to cover yourself on the walk home. I'll ensure that you're excused from
classes for the remainder of the day."
All she does is look at him expectantly, he sees out of the corner of his eye.
This is it.
"And... I'll be letting your, ah, father know that you're going to be having
after school detention once a week for the foreseeable future."
"Detention?" Deanna bats her eyelashes in his direction.
"Yes, you need firm discipline, you fucking slut brat." He's getting irritated,
wants her to just leave already so he can jerk off and get on with his day. He
does have actual (legal) school-related things to do today, thank you very much
"Okay, daddy." She has to stand on tiptoes to kiss his cheek, "accidentally"
brushing a hand over his crotch in the process. "See you later!"
With that, she runs out of his office, leaving him to mutter to himself and his
dick.
"That bloody tease."
End Notes
     f u c k I can't believe I even wrote this
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