She could hear the gentle breathing of the others in the dorm, signaling sleep had overtaken them. With extreme care, she rose from her bed and slipped into her favorite raincoat, buttoning it up to the neck so that-if she got caught-no one would know she was naked beneath it!
At last, she was free! No one had caught her slipping out of the dorm and into the shadows of the school grounds. Cupping a forbidden cigarette so the light wouldn't show, she waited.
Hands encircled her from behind, squeezing her breasts with an easy familiarity. Instantly her nipples hardened to taut nubs and her ass cheeks pushed back against the hard bulge in his jeans, urging him to take her right there, on the spot, standing up!
CHAPTER ONE
It was a warm, early September evening, the Friday before the opening of the fall semester at Danielson House. Already the moon's scimitared quarter was dappling the fenced-in recreational grounds with its twilight luminosity. Framing the spacious grounds was a larger quadrangle of buildings which housed the four female and three male instructors of this selective boarding school, located on the outskirts of Arton, a drowsy little town in upstate New York, not far from the Canadian border. In those buildings, too, there were quartered some fifty-six young ladies between the ages of fourteen and twenty, and forty-two boys between the ages of twelve and eighteen, together with a domestic staff which included two cooks, two laundresses, a gardener who doubled in the role of janitor, and a resident woman doctor, the ash-blonde, willowy, thirty-year-old Penelope Fielding.
Lights already blazed in most of the windows throughout the quadrangle where the young pupils were housed, for these were the main permanent boarders whose relatives found it much more convenient to dispense with their presence and thus be free to conduct their own lives as they chose.
But the lights in the private apartment of the directress herself, Helga Danielson, were extinguished, except for an indirect lamp beside her huge low bed. The muted glow from this tiny lamp sent eerie shadows over the inch-thick, black velvety carpeting, which muffled the sounds of any footsteps, over the tapestried walls garnished with several superb and original oils depicting erotic scenes. One showed a herculean Negro, his naked body gleaming with oil, gripping an African kurbash between his hands as he stared gloatingly down at a naked golden-haired young woman who crouched at his feet and, her hands gripping his sinewy ankles, was in the act of humbly kissing them. Another depicted a French can-can girl in red leather high-heeled pumps, gossamer black nylon hose, a matching black satin garter belt and huge jade earring pendants clipped to her elegant lobes, reclining upon a pile of foam-rubber cushions, her slim hands gripping her knee hollows, her knees aloft and yawned apart to permit the oral homage of an enchanting, nubile and naked young girl who could not have been more than twelve and whose flaxen hair descended to her saucily rounded bottom cheeks.
Helga Danielson, five feet nine inches in glorious Amazonian height, her honey-colored hair tumbling down over one cheek to kiss and conceal a lush round tit, wearing only elbow-length black kid gloves and knee-length matching boots with spike heels, stared benignly down at Sally Eggars, a precocious fifteen-year-old brunette whom she had summoned for punishment only half an hour before.
Sally's parents had long since divorced and left their only child with a cranky, wealthy aunt who wanted no part of her and who had been only too happy to enroll her in Danielson House six months ago.
The slim, saucy-faced teenager had already been punished twice by her instructress, Jennifer Ad-dams, the slim, supercilious thirty-year-old coppery-haired female senior of Helga Danielson's teaching staff. This time, Sally's misdemeanor had been somewhat more serious, earning her a private session with the autocratic head of the school. She had stolen her roommate's compact, and it had just been discovered this morning by one of the laundresses whose other duties included not only preparing naughty pupils for punishment but also providing maid service for all the rooms in the quadrangle.
Sally was sniffling now, and as she lay flat on her belly with her wrists tied behind her back with a length of soft felt so as not to leave unaesthetic red marks, the milky skin of her compact, boyishly oval-shaped bottom was profusely striped with the darkening red marks of a whippy little cane which lay on the floor near the bed where the directress had flung it after punishment.
Sally was not quite naked like the young girl in the picture to her own left; she wore the obligatory open-necked white silk blouse and the knee-length black silk stockings held up by old-fashioned garters which all female pupils between the ages of fourteen and sixteen had to wear as part of their school costume. After a gentle and rather caressing spanking from Helga's gloved right hand, she was now doing her very best to beg herself off a supplement of a dozen strokes from a leather strap which she had earned for impertinence while Helga was lecturing her.
Her dainty little snug nose was buried in the luxuriant dark golden muff of Helga's cunt, and her soft, trembling, excessively ripe mouth was applying feverish kisses to the shell-pink outer lips of that exquisite orifice.
"Very gently now, dear," Helga throatily murmured. Her gloved hands reached down to caress the bowed head, her fingers entwining in the thick pageboy curls of the atoning victim. "This isn't the first time you've had to beg off punishment, now, is it, sweetheart?"
"No, Miss Helga," came a faint muffled voice as Sally remained exactly in position, not daring to commit the lese-majeste of removing her mouth from her directress' cunthole.
"Then show me what you've learned from Betsy and from Miss Addams," Helga Danielson softly urged.
For at Danielson House, all pupils received an excellent education in the three R's, which included not only the usual scholastic curriculum, but what might be called Rulering, Rogering, and Rimming. Pert Sally Eggars had just experienced the first of these supplementary R's, and she was now proceeding to show her expertise in the third.
The superb Amazonian sat up now, arching up her knees and spreading them widely apart to make her teenaged charge adjust her humbled posture. With a whimper of anxiety, Sally squirmed forward a little and arched up her head so her mouth and tongue might find the tangy orifice. Helga smiled down at the charming culprit, relishing the sight of Sally's tightened neck cords and the widened, frightened eyes. A girl, she mused to herself, always got much more randy after a good spanking, and still more so with the threat of an extra dose hanging over her lovely bottom. Helga's gloved fingers tightened in the rumpled pageboy tresses as she urged, "Show me what you've learned, dear, and maybe I'll let you off the second part of your spanking. Find my button and make me come, and I won't spank that sweet bottom of yours any more tonight."
With this, the honey-haired directress tugged Sally's curls as a reminder for the still sniffling girl to demonstrate her skill at gamahuching. It was an awkward position for the teenaged brunette, especially since her wrists were tied and since she had to lift her face, thanks to Helga's change of position. But then, Helga Danielson had done it just to aggravate her adorable victim's plight and to procure for herself even more intoxicating sensations. By the time a girl finished her first year at Danielson House, she became an accomplished gammer, or, as Helga preferred for its refined and foreign-sounding values, a gougnoutteuse sans pareille.
She could see Sally's slim little fingers twisting frantically as the girl thrust her tongue against her mount and prodded for the nodule of her clit. Helga's. stifled gasp announced that Sally had found it at the very first try, and she shivered voluptuously as she shifted herself even closer to her prey, mashing her cunt right into Sally's mouth and nose while at the same time pressing her booted knees together to imprison the teenager.
"That's nice, darling, go on, but don't hurry!" she huskily drawled.
Sally needed no second encouragement. Her naked behind still throbbed disconcertingly, and there was always the reminder of a supplemental extra from the whippy cane whose acquaintance she had made a few minutes ago. Her tongue remained at the dainty bud of Helga's clit, rubbing it this way and that, then pressing it back into the protective cowl of soft pussy flesh. Helga, a dreamy expression coming over her autocratic face, shivered again, and her gloved fingers twisted even more convulsively in the girl's rumpled long pageboy curls. "That's it, dear, that's very nice! But mind you, not too fast! And I like to be kissed there too and on the insides of my thighs right near my pussy, Sally dear," she instructed the quivering captive.
Sally could scarcely breathe, and against her cheeks and neck she could feel the warm satiny pressure of Helga's bare, beautifully muscled thighs. Her neck felt stiff from the awkward up-tilting of her face, but that was a minor annoyance compared to what the resumption with that cane would bring her tender flesh. So, closing her eyes and surrendering herself, she began to apply stinging little kisses to the twitching lips of the directress' cunt, varying these with more lingering osculations along the sensitive insides of Helga's lithe, springy thighs.
Then again her tongue returned to the charge, furrowing back into the niche to find the turgifying button of the clit, and drawing delighted gasps from the honey-haired Amazon. Helga grew so excited that she released the girl's hair and cupped Sally's flushed and still tear stained cheeks in her gloved palm as she forced the girl's face as far as it could go into her ardent, wakened lovecore.
Now all that could be heard in this darkened bedroom was the moist slushing and sucking and smacking of lingual and labial salutations, mingled with the gasps and sighs and excited little moans which emanated from the headmistress.
"Yes, you sweet little bitch, hurry now, faster, dig it into me like a prick, do it!" Helga Danielson urged, her voice growing thick with lust as she felt herself near the brink of come. Nearly suffocated, but not daring to slacken now, Sally Eggars crammed her tongue as hard as she could against the stiffened love-button, forcing it this way and that, up and down, back into its protective hiding place, then letting it spring forth only to flick at it again.
With a shrill cry of ecstasy, Helga Danielson palmed the back of Sally's head and forced the girl's mouth as deeply as it could go into her cunt-hole, then sank back on the bed, her tits heaving wildly, a beatific look coming over her exotic, haughty face.
Her thighs sprawled hugely, and Sally at last dared to raise her congested face, her eyes widening with questioning fear.
"Not too bad this time, darling, though you've a great deal to learn yet," at last her formidable directress drawled, "Does your bottom still hurt?"
"Uh huh, a little," Sally blushingly admitted.
"Well, to show you that I am fair as well as just, I'm going to do you the way you did me. Roll over onto your back and just relax, dear."
Sally hastened to obey, and a moment later, moving over the half-naked teenager in reverse, Helga Danielson grasped Sally's knees with her gloved hands and lowered her mouth to brush her lips tantalizingly over the young girl's pussy, while at the same time lowering her own twitching, moistened cunt toward Sally's trembling lips. "Now then, dear," she said with a soft, sensual little laugh, "I'm going to show you how you really ought to gam, so you'll know the next time. And while I'm doing you, you can just do me again and see if you can't do a better job this time!"
On the second floor of the north building, there was another bedroom in which only an indirect table lamp was lit beside a comfortable double bed. This was the bedroom of Jasper Maxon, the debonair thirty-seven-year-old male instructor who had charge of Danielson House boys between the age of seventeen and eighteen. He was wearing only his bathrobe and sandals, and an old briar pipe was gripped between strong white teeth as he stared maliciously at a blushing and extremely embarrassed auburn-haired girl, quite plump and well developed for her sixteen years, who faced him, head bowed, fingers twisting behind her back and staring unhappily down at the thick rug.
"You know perfectly well, Rowena," Jasper Maxon smilingly remarked, "that sneaking into a boy's room is strictly forbidden. Mind you, Madame Helga has no objection to you young people learning the facts of life, but such things are done through the direct supervision of your instructors and instructresses. You understand me, I take it?"
"Y-yes sir," Rowena Davidson sighed almost inaudibly. She was wearing yellow satin pajamas, slippers, and a bathrobe belted very tightly, but it did not hide the exuberant jut of big, closely spaced round tits as well as the invitingly spacious cheeks of her really magnificent ass. Her skin was quite pale and freckled, her face was heart-shaped, and her eyes gray-green and very wide and blurred with tears now.
"I know that you are sweet on Ben Maxwell, but the proper thing to do is to apply to Madame Helga and see if she won't assign you to be his regular sweetheart. However, since you made no such application, and since I caught you just about to go into his room, you know that you are liable to punishment don't you, Rowena?"
"Y-yes sir," her voice was fainter than ever now and she still continued to stare almost desperately at the thick rug.
Jasper Maxon chuckled softly. He moved forward, cupped the girl's chin in his right palm and lifted her flushed, anguished face. "I may, however," he purred, "be inclined to spare you this evening if you will be a very good girl. Do you understand me, Rowena?"
"Ohh! Oh, s-sir!"
"No nonsense now," he said sharply. "I'm within my rights to order a good sound thrashing for that big bottom of yours, my girl. However, truthfulness may save you a good deal of discomfort. Now then, are you a virgin?"
A fiery blush suffused Rowena Davidson's cheeks, sped to her forehead and even to her throat and the lobes of her dainty ears as she closed her eyes and faintly nodded.
Jasper Maxon frowned. He had started as a teacher in a rural school in New Jersey, found himself the unexpected heir to a distant uncle's legacy, and had gone to Europe on a grand tour to drink wine and enjoy pussy. Within three years he had squandered most of his fortune, and so he had accepted the post of tutor to the family of an important French diplomat stationed in Marseilles. Unfortunately, Jasper Maxon coveted not only the sixteen-year-old daughter, but also his employer's wife, and soon both mother and daughter were jealous rivals for his virile prick. When the husband came upon Jasper giving it to his blonde wife dog fashion, Jasper managed to escape lethal retribution and spent the next six months playing the piano in a little cabaret off the Place Pigalle and doing a little soliciting for the girls who worked on their backs upstairs until he had accumulated enough money to get back to the States. Helga Danielson had met him in a bar in New York, found him amusing and quite erudite, and promptly hired him for Danielson House.
However, he had a perversion to cherry, because as a rule it was messy and the girl herself got very little pleasure out of it. Nevertheless, he saw in Rowena the potential of a very delicious mistress. Tomorrow he would talk to Madame Helga and arrange for Rowena to be allowed an occasional visit to her boyfriend, who would do the tedious chore of breaking her cherry. Tonight, meanwhile, Rowena was going to give him some pleasure to save her big and very whippable bottom.
"Very well then, Rowena," he at last decided. "I was going to give you thirty good strokes with the martinet across your bare behind...."
"Oh sir, oh please, oh I couldn't stand it, I'll do anything you want, only please don't whip me like that!" she suddenly burst out, clasping her hands in prayer and staring pathetically at him, tears running down her cheeks.
"I told you I will be lenient if you are a very good girl. I take it you don't care to taste the martinet?"
Rowena shook her head, continuing to stare at him imploringly.
"In that case, take off your bathrobe," he directed, and was instantly obeyed. "Now your pajama tops," was his next command.
"Oh ... are you ... are you going to ... fuck me, sir?" Rowena quavered.
"Just keep your mouth shut and do what you are told, or you might get the whipping after all," he said angrily. "Take off the tops, I said!"
Scarlet-faced, the submissive girl obeyed and let the pajama tops drop to the floor from nerveless fingers. Her tits were really splendid. Big and upstanding, without any need of a bra, with large aureolae the size of silver dollars, and nipples already deliciously pert and stiffened, as if ready for the fucking she had asked about. There wasn't any doubt that he wanted to get into that tight cunt of hers, but he wasn't in the mood to soil the sheets and make her unhappy and himself annoyed as well. His prick was already savagely rampant, and he now unbuttoned the bathrobe and let her see what a painful state the display of her naked tits had put him.
"Ohhh, Mr. Maxon!" was her gulped-out reaction as her tear-blurred, widened eyes spied his bulging ramrod with its lean, spearpoint-like head standing out terrifyingly from the shaft, thanks to the wide circumcisional groove which separated it.
"Get down on your knees, Rowena, cuddle my prick in your soft little hands, and start kissing it all over," he directed.
"Ohhh ... I ... I haven't ever done anything like that, not even with Bob, sir!" she groaned, unable to take her eyes off his virile weapon.
"It's that or the thirty cuts on your bare behind, Rowena, so make up your mind and do it quickly," was his irritated comment.
By this time, Rowena Davidson's face was as red as her tousled hair, as she slowly sank down on her knees, her big round tits jiggling as she did so. Awkwardly, she reached out both trembling little hands and put her palms up against the sides of his gnarled shaft. Then she stared up imploringly at him again, almost as if asking for a reprieve.
"You know what I told you to do. Or shall I have you get me the martinet and take off your pajama bottoms and bend over, Rowena?" he said coldly.
This decided the girl. With another gasp, she leaned forward and, closing her eyes, let her lips lightly brush over the taut glans of his aching prick.
"That's lovely," he gasped. "Now do it slowly, and all over, down to my balls and back to the tip. It's your only chance to save your bottom, so go ahead!"
With a choking little sob Rowena Davidson bowed her head again and began to apply tiny and evidently hesitant kisses along the pointed tip of Jasper Maxon's bulging prick. He stood with an arrogant smile on his face, studying her. It was a deliriously servile position, one which made him feel like a harem master commanding a beautiful new slave girl to do something against her will. There was a savoring pleasure to the thought that if she refused, her plump, pale, white-skinned bottom would be very neatly striped with interesting red decor. In the olden days, if Jasper Maxon had been alive as a pasha or feudal lord, he would have derived exactly the same kind of enjoyment which he was now getting from watching the smooth, deeply hollowed, pale white back of the half-naked girl kneeling before him twitch and quiver in her growing embarrassment and shame.
However, standing here in the middle of the room, pasha-like though it might be, had its disadvantages. So, after a moment or two of feeling her soft moist palms squeeze against his aching ramrod and delighting in the moist trembling pressure of her soft red lips down to about the middle of his organ, the suave black-haired instructor admonished his virginal prey, "That's enough for the moment, Rowena! Now I want you to take off your pajama bottoms and you might as well take your slippers off too. I'm going to sit on the edge of the bed and then you're going to show me how you can perform with your lips and tongue if you want to save that very tempting big behind of yours from a sound thrashing. If you're a good girl, remember, I'll recommend to Madame Helga that you be given orientation so you can lose your maidenhead in a proper and reasonably painless way and perhaps even with the young man of your choice-unless, of course, she has other plans for you. But for the time being, my dear, your only recourse out of a very difficult situation is to please me completely-do I make myself clear?"
As Rowena stumbled to her feet, her face was red as her glossy auburn hair, which she wore in a very pretty Dutch-girl bob with eyebrow-hiding bangs, a raised crown, and tiny, pointed guiches on both cheeks. Tugging at the waistband cord of the pajama pants, she stooped a little, making her round full young tits dangle enticingly before his glittering eyes, and then very hastily began to tug the yellow satin sheath down till it crumpled about her slim ankles. Scuffing off her slippers, she stepped out of the final garment and was naked as the day she was born. His eyes at once fixed on the surprisingly thick dark red fleece of her pubic hair which almost hid the lips of her soft virgin cunt. The paleness of her bare skin was even more lasciviously set off by that vivid delta, and he noted with sensual perception the soft sprigs of private hair in her visibly moist armpits-a sure sign that poor little Rowena was undergoing an emotional stress which was certain to make her all the more docile.
Meanwhile, doffing his bathrobe completely, he seated himself comfortably on the edge of the bed and accommodatingly spread his sinewy, lean, hairy thighs. His prick majestically thrust up and out, rigid and dark-veined, the lips of the meatus tightening convulsively in anticipation of the oral joy it was about to be granted from such a sweet, virginal mouth and tongue. Blinking her tear-filled eyes, Rowena Davidson now approached and again sank down on her knees before the tyrannical instructor.
However, since it was at least a week since he had a really good fucking, Jasper Maxon halted the naked teenager just as she was about to dip her head again and apply her quivering lips to his turgid maleness. "Wait a minute, my dear. I want to take a closer look at you. Stand up and keep your arms at your sides. Then when I say so, you can turn around."
"Ohh, sir, please, you don't know ... you don't know how ashamed I am ... oh this is just awful!" Rowena began to sniffle.
"What's this now, my girl? Maybe you'd rather have the thirty after all, and of course you are perfectly prepared to receive them," he pretended to threaten.
Rowena Davidson needed no further encouragement. She scrambled to her feet and stood straight as an arrow, even holding her breath, her eyes wide and desperately glowing, her arms tight along her sides as she presented him with the dazzling close-up view of her unadorned nakedness.
Then, instinctively, her blushes deepening, she suddenly clapped a trembling hand over the furry niche of her pussy, but Jasper Maxon chuckled dryly and, putting out both hands to cup her lush round naked tits, commented, "Take your hand away at once if you expect to get off punishment, young lady!"
With a flurried little sob, the auburn-haired girl obeyed, clenching her fists and screwing her eyes tightly shut as she endured his prolonged and greedy stare. She was really delicious, Jasper Maxon thought. If it weren't for her cherry, he would be inclined to fling her down on the bed and get between those white, round, succulent thighs and plunge himself to the very depths of her tight cunthole. But as a voluptuary, he was quite content to make this ritualistic ceremony as trying and humiliating for her as possible, in order to obtain every possible iota of sexual gratification from the compensatory act of Frenching which she was going to be obliged to perform upon him.
In another ten years, unless Rowena followed a strict diet and got plenty of exercise (not only the horizontal, bedroom kind), she was going to be unprepossessingly fat. But right now, there was no doubt that she was at her most fuckably enticing, ripe and satiny soft, deliciously submissive and timid, both flesh and psyche in that malleable state which is most conducive to expert male passion.
Biting her lips and turning her face away, Rowena squirmed uneasily as his long sinewy fingers caressed and tweaked the generous curves of her erratically heaving tits, his thumbs pressing the pert dark nipple buds back into their haloed centers and then capriciously letting them pop out again with greater turgidity than before-an evidence that the girl was rapidly becoming sexually aroused, whether she knew it or not. He too, like Madame Helga, understood that when a girl had been whipped or was afraid of being whipped, her latent sensuality was wakened and she was thus easily guided towards those passionate exercises which either a male initiator or female initiatress might require of her. Just an inch below and to the left of her shallow, wide navel, he observed a tiny black mole, an adorable little beauty spot which fairly demanded more than nominal attention. Perhaps, for a return bout, he would content himself with rubbing his cockhead against that adorable place so as to let Rowena comprehend what it would be like, one day soon, when her soft cunt had to become the receptacle of a man's hot, bubbling seed.
Languidly dropping one hand, he put his forefinger on the mole, while continuing to massage each of her boobs in turn with the other hand. A heartfelt little groan told him the naked teenager was finding it increasingly difficult to maintain an impassive and impervious attitude before him, since they were both naked and he was handling her satiny flesh with doubtless greater liberty than anyone had taken until this moment.
His prick was throbbing madly, but as an expert and inveterate cocksmith he knew more than most men the intense pleasure of holding himself back, of prolonging every moment of foreplay until all his mind as well as his flesh fairly shrieked for gratification. It was a kind of challenge with Jasper Maxon, to see how long he could hold out against the blandishments of the most delicious naked female pupil in Madame Helga's establishment, just as he had always prided himself on doing with all the other females whom he had most enjoyably fucked. Besides, it was as much as conferring a real erotic education on this lucky little bitch; if she had not been enrolled in this school, she would doubtless be subjected to the uncouth maulings of untutored young males who had only their lusty appetites to recommend them and absolutely no science in giving and taking pleasure. She might even have gone on to marry some Babbitt who would fuck her three nights a week, religiously on schedule, roll over and go to sleep immediately after he had had consummation. Thus in more than one sense he was definitely doing Rowena Davidson a considerable favor for which she ought to thank him rather than stand here blushing and on the verge of tears, as if she was about to endure a barbarous martyrdom.
As he continued to fondle and caress her tits and especially her stiffening nipples, Rowena's nervousness grew apace. "Ohh ... please!" she finally breathed, opening her eyes and beseeching him with their luminous green depths. At the same time, her hands clasped in an attitude of prayer. It was really a delicious gesture, one that he could especially savor because it gave him the feeling of total mastery over this naked virgin. In some ways, he lamented the fact that he had not been born centuries ago to have been the lord and master of a plentifully stocked harem so that he could attempt his many theories about fucking and other variations on the theme under countlessly different circumstances and emotional crisis. But for the moment, Rowena Davidson was going to have to do-and, judging by the now intolerable aching in his balls, she was going to have to do damn well if she wanted to save that plump white bottom of hers.
"Now turn around, put your hands on the back of your neck, tilt your head back and don't move until I tell you to," his voice had hoarsened with mounting lust.
With a little whimper, the auburn-haired teenager obeyed. Now his eyes hungrily laved the wonderfully deep hollowed back, observing how the bone ended the marvelous symmetry of the spinal column, set off the tightly spaced, upstandingly rounded ass-cheeks, and yet not so much that he could not observe the shadowy groove leading to the rosebud of her ass-hole and, below, the saucy dark red curls which fringed the pink maw of her appetizing young cunthole.
She uttered a sigh, almost of relief, because at least she was not showing him her pussy and tits and was also hiding her face from him-by now, it was a fiery red with supreme embarrassment. She had resigned herself to Frenching him when he had first told her to kneel down and kiss his cock, but this sudden reprieve and the dalliance he was demanding of her had begun to enervate her to the point of anxiety. Her only thought, of course, was to propitiate him so he would let her off any whipping, for the man was known to be much more severe with the girls than even Madame Helga. She had not yet had the privilege of a private seance with the formidable directress of this school, but some of her girlfriends had whispered of the mingled pain and pleasure which was a naughty girl's lot when she was called to the bedroom of Madame Helga.
Nevertheless, the pose she took-which thrust her round boobs out till they were as taut as marble-emphasized the superb roundness of her pale sheened ass, and Jasper Maxon reached out and exultantly let his fingers roam at will over the warm, twitching globes. Squeezing and pinching here and there, he made poor Rowena gasp and squirm in consternation at the audacity and luxurious license which he allowed himself with her virgin flesh. She had never dreamed, even in her stealthy and of course aborted meetings with Ben Maxwell that a male would take so long in coming to the point. Ben had already put his hand into her panties and tickled her pussy, and breathed into her ear that he wanted to fuck her the worst way, but of course there hadn't been time. She had brought herself to a pitch of courage tonight, right after dinner, by trying to sneak into his room (his roommate happened to be off on an excursion in New York City with an affluent uncle) so that once and for all she could find out what it really would be like to be fucked. And of course Jasper Maxon, going to his room at the time, had caught her just as she was tiptoeing into Ben's room and brought her directly to his.
"Will you hold still!" Jasper Maxon angrily snapped as Rowena squirmed away after a particularly naughty pinch of the base of her left buttock. "It seems to me, my girl, that you prefer a whipping after all."
"Oh no sir, oh no, I don't, oh please, I'll do what you want, only this is just awful!" poor Rowena groaned.
"And is this awful too?" was his sarcastic rejoinder as he adroitly slipped his left hand round to her belly, caressed it gently for a moment and then glided it down until he had palmed her hairy young cunthole. Now, his right hand patting her bottom cheeks, he inserted his left forefinger between the labia majora and began to tickle the rims of her slit.
Rowena uttered a frantic little squeal, clenching her thighs, and then committed the blunder of grabbing at his intruding hand.
"What's this now? Is that the way you show your gratitude for my letting you off the martinet, young lady?"
"Oh, I ... I didn't mean it ... honestly I didn't, Mr. Maxon. Please ... please don't whip me, it's only ... I never have ... I've never been naked like this before ... and I ... I'm ashamed...."
"But you wouldn't have been if Ben Maxwell had been doing this to you, I suppose?"
"Oh no, I mean, oh dear!" Poor Rowena broke down and, covering her face in her hands, began to sob.
Feminine tears have an exquisite effect upon a sadistic voluptuary, and Jasper Maxon was far from being really sadistic. For a moment, he almost forgot his vow of not taking her cherry, and it was only with a supreme effort of self-control that he was able to keep himself from flinging her on the bed, and getting on her and plowing deeply into that tight little pussy she was trying so ingenuously to protect.
Instead, gripping her by the waist, he turned her sideways to the left, bent her over his knee with his left arm pinning her down so her tits mashed against the edge of the bed, and then he began to apply a flurry of quick, stinging little slaps all over her upturned, plump ass-cheeks, which at once began to turn from a delicious pale white to an even more exciting rose hue.
Rowena squealed and sobbed, tried to put her hands behind her to cover up, but he quickly avoided this protective maneuver and continued to spank her until at last she abandoned herself and wailed, "Oh please don't ... ohhhooo, oh it hurts, I'll be good, I'll do anything in the world, I promise I will, oh please don't spank me any more, please sir!"
"Very well. Now suppose-and this time I meant it, Rowena-you get down on your knees and take care of me the way I want you to. The next hesitation you show will cost you not thirty but forty strokes of that martinet, and your tender bottom will feel them even more now that you've had a little warm-up," he ordered.
Her hands plunged behind her to rub and soothe her flaming bottom as she sank quickly down on her knees. This time, without any reluctance whatsoever, at his order, she opened her mouth and accepted the tip of his prick, and then closed her lips and began very noisily to suck.
Jasper Maxon, digging his fingernails into the sheets, gave her explicit orders. From time to time he made her disgorge his gleaming, throbbing ramrod, only to attack it with the tip of her tongue down towards the scrotum and back, pausing at times to lave his hairy balls with submissive fervor.
Finally he could no longer hold out, and ordered her once again, "Now open your mouth and take all you can, and get ready!"
A few moments later, with a bellow of delight, Jasper Maxon felt himself explode into the panting, choking mouth of the lovely, naked, redheaded virgin. Rowena gagged and choked, but managed with heroic effort to swallow his seed, somehow understanding that rejection of it would mean punishment.
But because Jasper Maxon was a perfectly fair-minded man, he now ordered her to he on the bed, and then he regaled her by crouching between her trembling naked thighs and gamahuching her so expertly that she arched and twisted and squealed and nearly fainted with bliss as she felt his tongue goad her clit until she was drawn to her first real come.
Much later, her face red with blushes and her eyes downcast, but with a secret little smile of pleasure on her lips, Rowena Davidson put on her pajamas, slippers and bathrobe and crept out of Jasper Maxon's room back to her own. She was, if still technically a virgin, remarkably enlightened. After he had gammed her, he had obliged her to he beside him and play with his cock till it was once again satisfactorily erect. Then, after tonguing and kissing the exquisite little mole below her navel, he had explained to her what a real fucking would be like, demonstrating by rubbing his cock against the mole till he came, while at the same time frigging her pussy and clit till she again had experienced a furiously ecstatic climax.
And as she lay in her bed reviewing what had happened to her, blushing Rowena decided that, just as soon as Ben Maxwell had clinically removed her cherry, she was going to somehow contrive to get sent back to Mr. Maxon for correction-so that he could proceed in elaborate and leisurely detail with her further sexual education.
CHAPTER TWO
Myra Castlebar began to unpack her two suitcases and transfer their contents into the drawers of the commodious mahogany dresser standing against the wall near the door of her new quarters. She had arrived at Danielson House a short hour ago and had been informed by Dan Weinbold, the surly, stolid janitor-gardener of the institution that Madame Helga would not be available until tomorrow morning. However, she had left word with all of her staff that if the new instructress should arrive she was to be shown to her room and made comfortable, and also informed that she might have her evening meal in the refectory at the end of the first floor of the main building, where all the members of the staff enjoyed their repasts.
Myra Castlebar would have liked to have seen her new employer, since she had thus far met her only via the telephone and had been promptly engaged through that medium. She was still on the emotional rebound from her most recent experience as a private tutoress for lovely Carol Bannister. She had spent the months of June, July and August at the luxurious Bannister home in Bent-ridge, a thriving little industrial town about fifty miles away from Danielson House. And if she had come to this unknown institution, it was only because the desperate need of her own financial situation together with her moral indignation over what she had discovered in her last position had driven her to seek any kind of refuge from the dissolute and lecherous man who was Carol's uncle and also the head of a plastics manufacturing company located on the edge of the town where she had worked these last three hectic months.
The new teacher was three months past her twenty-seventh birthday and still an untouched virgin. Five feet six and a half inches in height, svelte, with a sensitive oval face, her black hair neatly drawn back from her forehead and coiffed into a prim bun at the back of her poised head, she was exactly the typelikely to inflame the lusts of an experienced voluptuary, and certainly one like Murray Bannister, her former employer. Several factors, however, had contributed to keeping her virginal and delivering her as an instructress into an institution whence, if she could only have known its portents, she would have fled as from the very fiends of hell themselves.
An only child and born to a mature couple residing in Buffalo, Myra had been sheltered almost from birth. First, by a nurse who remained with her until she was five, and thereafter by a governess until she was all of eighteen. Her father, a wealthy jeweler, made frequent trips to Europe together with her mother and left her in the governess' charge. Because she was wealthy, the attractive black-haired girl was sent to private schools, concentrating on her studies and making few friends because of her bookish temperament, which left her happier when she could immerse herself in literature rather than have to participate in the gossip and boy-crazy chatter of her schoolmates.
Actually, she had been sent to a Swiss school for girls to begin her preparatory college work when her father, at the time in Paris, was very cleverly robbed by a pair of professional jewel thieves who made away with over two million dollars' worth of industrial and commercial diamonds. This loss, only partly covered by insurance, plunged Herman Castlebar into a desperate financial situation. He was not able to recoup, and being a man of integrity and honor, turned over a good part of his savings and sold most of his real estate, including the house where Myra was born, to satisfy his creditors.
A year later, despondent and ailing, he succumbed to a heart attack, and Myra's mother followed him to the grave six months after that, doubtless out of grief. But the upshot of all this was that the attractive black-haired young woman was left almost penniless, except for a small insurance policy of which she was the sole beneficiary.
Shaken by the double tragedy of her life, Myra Castlebar plunged herself even more than ever into her studies. Awarded a scholarship at a prominent Eastern girls' college, she took her degree and then two years more of study to obtain a teacher's certificate. She believed that by teaching, she could find her niche in life and also the spiritual fulfillment which her keen mind and sensitive nature so greatly craved.
Her parents had almost never discussed sex with her, and even her mother had been most evasive on the subject. Nor had the governess deemed it necessary to edify Myra as to the facts of fife. Both of them contented themselves with the old saying when the girl met Mister Right, bells would chime and happy harmony would ensue and at that time Myra would know what every girl should know.
To be sure, the lovely brunette was not ignorant of the process whereby a virgin became a fulfilled female. She had, after all, taken a biology course at the Swiss school; but more than that, she had heard sufficient gossip from her sophisticated European schoolmates to understand exactly what went on between a boy and a girl when nobody else was around to disturb them. Finally, a boisterous and very conceited blonde, Swiss skiing instructor had made a very serious pass at her, getting her to come skiing with him and stopping at a deserted cabin on a majestic slope of the Swiss alps. While there, he had tried to tug down Myra's ski pants, and she had been so shocked at his blithe and quite impersonal lustfulness that there had been absolutely no emotional preparation to make her yield to his advances, though secretly she had been almost half-curious to know just what would happen. Had he been more considerate and tender, he might possibly have succeeded.
By the time she was twenty-three and had obtained her teacher's certificate, the money from the small insurance policy had run out and Myra had to find a job. It happened to be a bad time of year for hiring teachers, and so she was obliged to become first a waitress in a little Buffalo restaurant, and then a receptionist in a small advertising agency. On both jobs, men who observed her delectable long legs, high-perched, pear-shaped tits and exquisitely sensitive features determined to find out what it would be like to get between those long sweet thighs and thrust their pricks deeply into her tight warm cunt. They, too, were as bold and abrupt and offensive as the Swiss ski instructor had been, and so Myra's instinctive fear and reluctance before the men was the more intensified.
Once again Myra tried to find a job in teaching, and at last managed to be appointed as a fourth-grade teacher in a rural school in downstate New York. There again male misfortune dogged her endeavors. The gross, widower principal of the school hired her because she was a toothsome morsel and hoped that by having given her the job, she would in due course express her gratitude by granting him fucking privileges. After about six months, during which he dropped many a bold hint, which Myra either did not comprehend or pretended to ignore, he finally asked her out to dinner. Once in his house, he began to make violent love to her, ripping her skirt as he tried to thrust his hand between her long ivory-skinned thighs. Bursting into tears and shuddering with revulsion, Myra Castle-bar extricated herself from his embrace, slapped his face and submitted her resignation.
Unhappily, his word carried a good deal more weight than hers as a novitiate teacher, and so when she reapplied to the placement agency, she found open hostility. It was at this point that she began to believe she could earn her living by teaching private pupils, and first she went to a rather genteel house in Schenectady, where for eight months she coached two boys and a girl in the rudiments of high school English and civics without any further incident
Indeed, she would have kept that job for quite some time to come if it had not been that the parents were suddenly transferred to the west coast. And then Murray Bannister engaged her to be both teacher and companion to his delicious seventeen-year-old golden-haired niece, Carol.
His older brother and sister-in-law had been killed three months previously in a plane crash, and so Carol had come to stay with him. Murray Bannister, brown-haired, stocky, bespectacled and glib of speech, a dynamic industrial executive and extremely prosperous, was a notorious pussy hound. He had never been married for the simple reason that he much preferred one-night stands, and at best, a mistress whom he kept for three or four months before seeking her replacement. There were many fish in the sea and there was no need to be faithful to just one woman, in his philosophy.
If Murray Bannister had hired Myra Castlebar, it was not only because she was attractive and desirable, but also because he believed her presence in the house would serve as a kind of chaperone which would make his intended seduction of his blonde niece all the easier.
Carol was affectionate by nature, with soft baby-pink skin, a heart-shaped face, long tumbling curls down to her shoulders, and a ripe full-busted figure that was already mouthwatering to a connoisseur of cunt. Naturally, the death of her parents made her affection for forty-two-year-old Murray Bannister all the more emotional, since he was now her only living kin. Artfully, he encouraged her caresses, and Myra Castlebar was often blushingly shocked to observe her pupil perched upon her uncle's lap in his favorite armchair, his arm slyly clenched round her waist and his right hand creeping nearer and nearer one of the big round boobs against which her tight blue woolen sweater clung like an adoring second skin. Nor did Carol seem to mind these far from avuncular attentions.
And so one night during the last week in August, Myra Castlebar found herself unable to sleep and decided to go downstairs to the refrigerator in search of a snack or a cold drink and perhaps sit up and read a book until fatigue overcame her. As she went down the hallway, she saw Murray Bannister in his bathrobe and slippers moving towards Carol's room. It was about one in the morning, and there seemed to be no reason for so late a visit. Murray Bannister had not seen the brunette tutoress, and carefully turned the knob of Carol's door, then entered. Myra, hypnotized and perhaps fascinated by what she feared, tiptoed towards the half-open door and watched with widened, incredulous eyes.
Murray Bannister had turned on the little night lamp beside his niece's bed. Carol lay on her side facing him, a dreamy smile on her rosy lips. Since the weather was extremely warm, she had unbuttoned the tops of her pajamas and the two lush globes of her tits were spectacularly exhibited. Myra waited until she saw Murray Bannister put out his hands and squeeze those juicy love-globes, and then she uttered a cry of indignation. "Mr. Bannister, how dare you do an indecent thing like that to a young girl, your very own niece?"
Murray Bannister swore an unprintable oath under his breath, turned to confront her, his eyes blazing and his face red with anger and thwarted lust. "Why, you prying bitch you! What's the matter, jealous?"
Myra Castlebar put her hand to her mouth and stifled a cry of humiliated fury at so unworthy a remark. He pursued it. "Why don't you mind your own damn business, Miss Castlebar? I don't think Carol would mind a little attention, but you, you certainly could stand some from a man. Isn't that right, Carol, honey?"
And then, to Myra's consternation, the girl had sat up, giggled, looked archly at her, and then back to her uncle as she murmured, "Oh, Unkle Murray, does she have to be here? I want you to cuddle me ... it was so nice when you were feeling up my boobs. Please send her away and let's have fun."
Bursting into tears, Myra Castlebar turned on her heel and went back to her room. The next morning, pale and shaken, she informed her employer that she could no longer stay in such an immoral house. He mocked her, drew her to tears again by reminding her that her show of outraged purity might actually be sexual jealousy, and then paid her in full. He contented himself with remarking that it might be hard for her to find another job, for he certainly did not intend to give her the best of recommendations in view of her spinsterish outlook.
But the very next afternoon, Helga Danielson telephoned the startled, black-haired young woman and offered her a temporary post through the semester at Danielson House. When Myra, thunderstruck, asked the directress how the latter had happened to hear of her, Helga Danielson quite truthfully had responded, "I know Mr. Bannister, and I am aware of some of the problems he has had with other young women whom he has engaged. I know that you have a teacher's certificate, and since you are such a nice and decent girl, you are exactly the sort I should like to have working for me."
Because she needed a job and because she had honestly begun to wonder whether Murray Bannister's scathing remark about her jealousy over his interest might not have some foundation in truth and fact, Myra Castlebar had impulsively accepted the offer on the phone. What she had no way of knowing was that dissolute Murray Bannister had made many cash contributions to Helga Danielson's school so that he might from time to time visit and enjoy some of the orgiastic goings-on. For the beautiful directress, remembering how European voluptuaries enjoyed the pleasures of the peeping Tom, had arranged some of the chambers where girls could be punished with one-way glass panels so that those seated in the adjacent room could watch the entire proceedings.
Also, Murray Bannister himself had called Helga Danielson and informed her about Myra's background, temperament and prudish sexual outlook, adding that it was his hope that, once working as an instructress at Danielson House, she might be wakened so that one day he himself could profit as her first initiator into the mysterious joys and torments of Priapus.
Penelope Fielding moaned softly and leaned back against the edge of the leather-padded examining table in the spacious examination room connected with her private office on the first floor of the second building in the stately quadrangle of Danielson House. She had been busy most of the afternoon going over the dossiers of all fifty-six female pupils and tomorrow she would examine the records of the forty-two boys enrolled in this unique institution. As resident physician to the entire school, Penelope Fielding knew a great many secrets, perhaps even more than the autocratic Amazon who ruled over this singular domain where pedagogy and precocity went hand in hand with sexual situations and topics that usually never appeared on the curriculum of any formal institution of learning.
She had taken her medical degree three years ago, and after two years as a general practitioner in a town not far from Arton, she had quite accidentally met Helga Danielson when the latter had been driving to see a friend, stopped off in the very town where Penelope was practicing and had suddenly come down with what appeared to be an attack of acute appendicitis. Helga Danielson had seen Penelope's sign in the window of her office in the very block where she had been seized with the attack, had stumbled into the reception room and been immediately examined by the auburn-haired medico. Fortunately it wasn't appendicitis, but an attack of gastritis, and so competent had the willowy female doctor been that Helga Danielson had then and there made her a financial offer which Dr. Penelope Fielding couldn't afford to turn down. Moreover, since Helga Danielson immediately discerned that Penelope's sexual interests were concentrated on her own tender sex, she foresaw that at her school there would be ample opportunity for this attractive and sensual beauty to enjoy diversions with many of the pretty pupils who were not especially fond of boys. And of course Helga Danielson expected to enjoy Penelope herself.
Almost as tall as Helga, Penelope Fielding wore her auburn hair in a mannish short cut, which left her nape bare and called attention to the strikingly exotic angularity of her features, with pronounced cheekbones and an aquiline nose whose sensuous thin wings at once declared their owner's highly nervous sensitivity.
Dr. Penelope Fielding was not a virgin, and she had actually had two years of marriage to a high school football coach who had gone at her as an Australian sheepherder might go after one of his ewes after long deprivation from pussy. Penelope could not explain how she had allowed Ralph Tor-gerson to overcome her natural indifference to men and actually wed and bed her, but once the bedding came about she knew it had been a terrible mistake. The energetic in-and-out thrusting of his heavy prick had made her wince and gasp and beg him to take it easy, but Ralph was too excited by possessing so fastidious and cultured a beauty to have any interest in self-control. Had he been more deft, tactful and aware of dalliance between man and maid, he might very well have overcome Penelope's aversion to fucking. As it was, he had only directed her more strongly towards the shadow world of Lesbos, to which she was already beginning to turn.
As staff doctor to Danielson House, it was of course necessary for Penelope Fielding to make certain all the boys and girls were in exceptionally good health. She had, like all the other instructors and instructresses, the privilege of administering corporal punishment when it was deserved. This privilege was a fringe benefit of the job, so to speak, for very often the threat of it or perhaps even the actual execution had enabled her to coax many a hesitant young teenaged virgin into learning her first real sexual lesson in the art of gratifying a mature pussy and having her own gratified in the process.
With the boys, Dr. Penelope Fielding demonstrated a cool aloofness which of course managed to excite some of the older and wiser pupils. Quite a number of them, as a matter-of-fact, were hoping that by some hook or crook they could get a private session in Dr. Fielding's examining room and coax the auburn-haired beauty into testing not only their virility but also their staying powers. Thus far, however, no boy had achieved the millennium of getting into Dr. Penelope Fielding's sheer, skin-tight white nylon panties.
At the very moment that Myra Castlebar was unpacking and taking stock of her new surroundings, Dr. Penelope Fielding, wearing only a bra under her glossy white medical uniform, was watching through half-lidded dark blue eyes as Maxine Talbot knelt, her head and shoulders concealed under the gaping, unbuttoned skirt of the uniform. Maxine had been impertinent during the examination, and so the Lesbian medico had threatened her with a sound switching. Immediately contrite and not a little afraid, the pretty brown-haired fifteen-year-old pupil had humbly apologized.
"I might let you off, Maxine," Penelope had drawled, "if you do exactly what I tell you to. Now you unbutton my skirt and then stick your head under it, take my panties down and use your lips and tongue you can just guess where. If you can't, you naughty girl, I'll have you tied down on this table with your own panties off for at least fifteen good hard cuts with a hickory switch!"
Just as she had guessed, Maxine, who had been enrolled at the school for only two months, didn't have to be told a second time what to do. What was most astounding was the enthusiastic and almost reverent way she was going about it. Her fingers had tremblingly grasped the hem of the thin nylon panties and very gently and carefully worked them down till they lay in a crumpled little pile about Penelope's slim ankles. Then as Penelope put her palms behind her and bore down on the leather padding of the table to support herself, closing her eyes and giving herself up to the sweet reverie of being gamahuched by a tyro-perhaps one of the most thrilling experiences for a sophisticated Lesbian of her nature-Maxine had immediately wound her arms around Penelope's thighs, pressed her soft, warm moist mouth right on Penelope's cunt and began to suck and kiss voraciously.
"Oh my, you surprise me, darling ... but not so fast, don't spoil it ... mmmmm ... a little more to the left ... oh yes, that's it, Maxine dear, now hold off a moment till I can get my breath. My gracious, where did you learn all that? Certainly not here?" the doctor gasped.
Without emerging her head and shoulders from under the gaping folds of the partly unbuttoned skirt, Maxine had stammered, "It was ... it was
Delia, my roommate; she showed me what girls do. Oh, gee, I didn't mean to go and snitch on her. Please, Dr. Fielding, don't tell anybody I told you that, please!"
Dr. Penelope Fielding smiled to herself. Delia Norway, a year older than Maxine, a ripely curved strawberry-blonde, had thus far resisted her suggestive approaches to putting the examining table to a more amorous use than the various colleges of medicine intended. Now that she had had this blurted-out confessional of Delia's naughtiness from Maxine herself, Dr. Penelope Fielding would be able to use it as a Damoclean sword to compel Delia to see the light of day and be less hesitant about the sweet wanton ways that a teenaged girl and a mature woman could essay in the quest for pussy-pleasure.
"I shan't snitch at all if you do just what you're told and make me come properly, you tricky little bitch," she murmured in a gently indulgent voice. "Now I want you to use your tongue. Put it out just a little and go on around and round my little spot ... oh yes, that's the way. What a darling you are, Maxine! Now a little higher, till you feel the little button there ... oh yes, how intelligent you are, to find it right away like that! Mmmmm, gently now, and keep kissing all over. Oh my, you really are a clever thing, and if you keep it up this way, I shan't switch you at all. Go on, but more slowly. And don't forget to lick my button ... oohhh! Aahhh, oh now, now, harder, dig it into me, I'm coming, I'm coming, Maxine, oh you sweet bitch you ... I'm coming!"
As the paroxysm seized the willowy, almost naked doctor, Maxine Talbot edged herself further under the yawning and bulging skirt, her hands gripping the backs of Penelope Fielding's thighs, and she suddenly felt one of the Lesbian doctor's hands feel for her neck through the thin material of the uniform and grip it so she couldn't move her face away. Penelope Fielding's body shook and vibrated until the spasm had passed, and then with a sigh of delight, she murmured, "That was a good girl. Now you may go back to your room. And do me a favor ... don't let Delia do that to you again. If she wants to know why not, just tell her that the monitors might walk in some night and find you, and you know that would mean a good sound spanking for both of you in front of the whole school. Now run along, darling."
As Maxine Talbot ducked her head out from under the skirt and got to her feet, her face scarlet and her eyes averted, Dr. Penelope Fielding smiled tenderly and put out her hand to stroke the girl's flaming cheek. She made no move to replace her panties until the door of the examining office closed. Then with a little sigh, she squatted down, hesitated in the act of replacing the panties and then decided to leave them off entirely. Walking slowly and unsteadily to a luxurious private washroom, complete with tiled bathtub, she showered, then put on a pale peach-colored slip and a light blue summer frock, cobwebby gun-metal-gray nylons held up by a wispy garter belt, and a dainty pair of blue suede pumps.
She was suddenly ravenously hungry. Gamming always did that to her, especially when it was a new girl who hadn't been tried out before. How grateful she was to dear Madam Helga, for having saved her from the rapacious world of men so she might pursue her chosen profession and delight herself from time to time with these dainty little virgin pussies. Oh yes, of course she understood that eventually they would have to lose their cherries to the boys or to the instructors, but at least she could inculcate within them a greater appreciation for the delicacies and nuances of pussy-loving. Perhaps even if they had the ill fortune to get married to uncouth, inconsiderate men later on, they would at least have learned enough from her to find sweet consolation in the arms of some divorcee or next-door neighbor's wife.
She glanced at herself in the mirror, smiled lovingly at the narcissistic image, and then hurried to the refectory.
CHAPTER THREE
During the summer, meals in the Danielson House refectory were provided cafeteria-style, and so Myra Castlebar had taken a tray, chosen a generous serving of lamb stew, filled a bowl with tossed salad and added French dressing to it, a roll and two pats of butter, and a dish of caramel custard and a cup of coffee, then walked slowly towards a table in the rear of the well-lighted, spacious school dining room. A few moments later, Dr. Penelope Fielding entered, spied the lone occupant and, taking a closer look, smiled to herself. As she went down the self-service line, white-haired, fat Mrs. Hertha Kranz, who presided as cook, bade her a respectful good evening to which she affably responded. For the Lesbian medico, salad, a roll without butter, and coffee without cream or sugar sufficed as her evening repast. Lithe and poised, she moved quickly towards the table where Myra Castlebar sat, set her tray down and cheerfully greeted the newcomer to Danielson House. "You must be our new instructress."
"I ... I suppose I am. My name's Myra Castlebar."
"Oh yes, of course! Miss Danielson told us that you would probably be here this evening. I'm Dr. Penelope Fielding, but you can call me Penny if you like. May I sit here?"
"Please do!"
"Thanks." The auburn-haired Lesbian seated herself beside Myra, critically examining the new instructress. Satisfied with what she saw, she attacked her salad voraciously, broke the roll daintily and popped a small piece into her sensuous mouth, and then casually remarked, "By the way, Miss Danielson wants you to have a physical. Just routine, of course, but why not get it over with tonight, right after supper? Then you'll be all set to take your first class Monday morning. Of course, Miss Danielson will want to see you sometime tomorrow after lunch, to tell you about your new duties."
"Why, I guess that will be all right," Myra Castlebar stammered. Glancing up, she had observed Penelope Fielding's intent look, and she couldn't help blushing.
"Good. When we've finished, then, you might as well come back to my office. How do you like Danielson House?"
"It's very lovely, from what Pve seen of it. How many pupils are there here?"
"About a hundred. Of course you'll handle the girls. We have three fellows here for the boys. Have you done much teaching?"
"Some," Myra Castlebar uneasily admitted, "but mostly I did tutoring."
"Well, that can be even more fun," the auburn-haired woman smiled knowingly.
Fifteen minutes later, more and more ill at ease, Myra Castlebar found herself at the very office where not long before Maxine Talbot had been compelled to gamahuch the stunningly handsome young woman who now casually encouraged her, "You might as well take off everything except your garter belt and stockings, Myra dear. After all, I do have to make a thorough examination. It wouldn't do to have someone here with any communicable diseases, you know. Of course I'm sure you're sound as a dollar."
"Do I ... do I have to get all naked?" Myra was flustered, and showed it by blushing more hotly than ever.
Penelope Fielding had pulled her glossy white uniform over her dress to look her role, and adjusted a pair of rubber gloves on her slim hands, then lit a cigarette.
"Good gracious, Myra, you can't be that prudish in this day and age, nobody is!" She laughed softly. "Of course you have to get naked so I can examine both front and back ... I'm sure you understand. What have you got to hide, anyhow? From what I see already, you've got a perfectly gorgeous figure. I wish I could eat the way you did tonight, but I have to watch my calories. You're the lucky kind who probably doesn't have any trouble, I'll bet."
"I ... I do keep the same weight most of the time," the black-haired young woman stammeringly admitted. Then, reluctantly, she began to draw off her dress, not seeing the sudden glint of sensual interest in Penelope Fielding's attentive eyes.
As the slip followed, Dr. Penelope Fielding's gaze grew even more intense and rapt. The warm creamy skin so generously displayed between the nylon stocking tops and the legs of Myra's modestly cut white nylon panties, as well as between the waistband and the narrow bandeau of her matching bra, had a sensual, rich, alabaster tone which thoroughly made the Lesbian's fingers itch to caress and stroke and palpate. It was, indeed, with difficulty that she restrained herself. It would never do to affront this luscious dish right from the start, she told herself. And judging from the brunette's shyness of having to undress before her, Dr. Penelope Fielding was almost willing to wager that Myra Castlebar was an untouched virgin.
"Just slip out of your panties, dear," she huskily murmured as she strove to maintain a thoroughly professional attitude and moved over to the cabinet beside the door to procure her stethoscope. Adjusting it, she walked back to the examining table and then drew a deep breath, her eyes blazing with longing. Biting her lips and extremely nervous, Myra Castlebar stood in garter-belt, bra, nylons and pumps, and one slim hand was edging very close to the surprisingly thick and very black bush of cunt hair which made her creamy white skin all the more intoxicating to the sight.
Myra's tits were high-perched, widely spaced, and exuberant in their cantaloupe-like proportions, but without excess. The aureolae were narrow but of a dark coral that was really exquisite in contrast to her white skin, and her nipples were dainty and crinkled nubs which promised an exquisite sensitivity to the touch of fingers or lips or tongue.
Her waist was slim, and the deep and very narrow niche of her navel marked the smooth flatness of her lovely belly on whose lower plane the black follicles of pussy hair began to grow most luxuriously. Indeed, the soft lips of her virgin cunt were almost entirely concealed by that fleecy adornment, and gusseted along the perineal groove almost to her voluptuous rosebud of an ass-hole.
Her bottom cheeks were upstandingly rounded and set closely together, set off all the more by the long gracefully sculptured columns of her quivering thighs. Her calves were high-set, sinuous, nervously muscled, and the practiced eye of Dr. Penelope Fielding instantly discerned the rippling tremors along Myra's calves and lower thighs as a very definite sign that the new instructress found being naked even in front of her a rather trying ordeal ... all of this augured very well for the future!
"First, I'll take some vital statistics, dear," the Lesbian murmured as she picked up a pad of paper and a ballpoint pen from the desk to one side of the cabinet and came back to the quivering, almost nude brunette. Of course she could have gotten these items at the time she procured the stethoscope, but it suited her purpose to prolong this examination so she could regale herself as long as possible with this vision of loveliness. There was no doubt about it, Myra Castlebar was one of the choicest pieces of pussy who had ever come to Danielson House ... and Dr. Penelope Fielding knew very well that so far as coming was concerned, she definitely intended to make Myra do just that as soon as it was practicable to seduce this exciting specimen.
"Now then, any childhood diseases, Myra?"
"No, just whooping cough, and I had my tonsils out when I was six," the brunette confided in a nervously unsteady voice. Standing, facing the auburn-haired medico, she was more and more distressed about having to remain unclad, and by now her hand had crept down to cover her cunt-hole, just as if she were being examined by a male doctor.
This stealthy maneuver did not go unnoticed by Dr. Penelope Fielding. "Now then, how old are you?" she pursued.
"Twenty-seven."
"Ever married or had children?"
"Oh, no!" the reply was almost explosively proffered, and Myra Castlebar's cheeks richly flamed once again.
"Step on that scale there, dear," Dr. Penelope Fielding directed, her eyes greedily observing the undulating tremors which surged through that wonderfully creamy, firm, juicily rounded behind as Myra Castlebar obediently moved forward towards the wall and stepped on the scale.
"Your weight is ideal, really it is," the perverse medico observed with a wry smile. "I really envy you that figure of yours, Myra. How did you manage to escape getting married, a dish like you?"
"I ... I never met anybody I cared for," Myra Castlebar tried to make her reply as quick and decisive as possible, for this was hardly a subject she cared to dwell upon and for very excellent reasons. But of course Dr. Penelope Fielding interpreted that reply to her own intended sensual advantage.
"I see. Well now, let me check your pulse and then your heartbeat, dear." She took hold of Myra's left wrist, closed her eyes and silently counted. "Sound as a dollar, certainly no high blood pressure here. Now then, the heart." Opening her eyes and smiling engagingly at the vividly blushing brunette, she put the stethoscope against Myra's heart, pressing firmly against the thin nylon bra-cup and mentally telling herself here was a wonderfully resilient pair of boobs just made for kissing and petting. If she had donned the rubber gloves, it was to convey a scientific and impersonal tone to this examination, which was really more for her own sensual edification (as well as that of Helga Danielson) than for the school's official dossier.
Myra sucked in her breath, pressed her hand even more tightly over her cunthole, and closed her eyes as tightly as she could. A long shiver ran through her almost naked body, and Dr. Penelope
Fielding felt her own pulses quicken to the feminine allure this sweet, mature innocent emanated. It was just too good to be true; at twenty-seven, with a shape like Myra's, it was just unthinkable that she'd never had either a good stiff cock in that furry cleft of hers or at least another girl's soft quim rubbing her back and forth to a good hot come.
"Now then, Myra, suppose you climb up on that table and get on all fours. Bend your head way down and spread your knees as far apart as you can. This is what they call the intimate part of the examination," she directed.
The leather-padded table was broad enough to permit this all-fours posture, and indeed Dr. Penelope Fielding had originally ordered an extra-wide unit just so as to be able to have the absolutely breathtaking and salacious display of the many tempting pussies and bottom holes of her female charges when it came time to examine them. To a lesser degree, the dangling balls and the stiffening cocks of the youths who, usually very embarrassed to be naked in front of a handsome young woman, afforded her erotic enjoyment, if only because for once these males were compelled to demean themselves and be inferior with her in command. It was always amusing to watch a new boy, for instance, try desperately not to get a hard-on while he was in this crouching pose on the table and especially when she was fingering his bumhole to test for piles. The face of such a novice, discovering that anal penetration stirred him to tremendous erection, always diverted Dr. Penelope Fielding, and it was in a way her revenge against the man whom she had at one time thought might be the answer to her pussy's urgent needs.
Myra Castlebar was no exception to the rule of embarrassment. Awkwardly, she got onto the table, on her knees and elbows and slowly lowered her face down to the cool surface. "Come on now, honey, you can do better than that," Dr. Penelope Fielding playfully encouraged, applying a light slap on one of those ivory bottom globes which made Myra gasp and squirm uneasily about. "I want them as far apart as you can get them, and that's an order. After all, we can't have a new instructress teaching these delicate, well-bred girls if she happens to have any female disorders, so I've got to check on you right now. That's a little better-but you can do still better than that! Come on, be a good girl, pretend you're getting ready to take on your boyfriend!"
But this suggestion had the opposite effect; with a shocked gasp, "Ohh no!" Myra Castlebar promptly clamped her legs together and looked back, her face scarlet. "I don't have a boyfriend, and I ... and I certainly wouldn't ever do this..." she stammered, her voice trailing off as she recognized the enormity of what she had just said.
But the Lesbian doctor was more and more delighted with each novel betrayal of the novitiate's total innocence. Yes, it was too good to be true, but it was true just the same. How could a young woman attain the ripe old age of twenty-seven without ever having been fucked or done a little girl fucking just to work off the itch in her pussy?
"I'm going to be very angry with you, and you're behaving like a naughty little girl. In this school, naughty little girls get spanked-and by the way, Myra, after your first week or two as a teacher, you're going to be expected to correct your naughty pupils just that way," she now advised the more and more scandalized brunette. "Come on, the sooner you spread your legs apart, the sooner I can finish the examination and you can get dressed again."
This formula worked, although it was quite obvious, judging from her frantic backward glances over her shoulder, that Myra Castlebar was mortified at the thought of exposing the most intimate nooks and crannies of her creamy, voluptuous and almost naked body.
With a matter-of-fact air, the Lesbian now applied her gloved right forefinger between the pouting pink lips of Myra Castlebar's exquisite, gaping cunthole. Myra closed her eyes, and gasped, stiffening, but the finger continued its inroads until Dr. Penelope Fielding almost giggled with excitement: sure enough, this one was definitely cherry! She could feel the membrane resisting the prodding of her fingertip, and that meant this sweet, white-skinned bitch was fair game for anyone clever enough at Danielson House to teach her the whys and wherefores of fucking. For herself, Dr. Penelope Fielding determined to be the first, even ahead of Madame Helga.
"There, that wasn't so bad, was it? Now then, dear, reach back, open up your cheeks as wide as you can for just a second. You know. I'll try to be gentle, and I'll put some Vaseline on my finger," she cooed.
Once again a flurried gasp announced that this order had drawn the young instructress towards a new emotional crisis. Twice her slim hands tremblingly moved back towards the jouncy, jutting rounds of her tensing naked ass, and twice halted. Once again Dr. Penelope applied a smart little slap, and was enchanted to see the vivid pink splotch which instantly sprang up on the flesh.
"Oh come on now, you're acting like a silly child!" she playfully scolded.
At last Myra Castlebar, closing her eyes very tightly and bowing her head down as far as she could, grabbed hold of her buttocks and pulled them widely apart, disclosing the most exquisite little rosette in the world. The lips puckered and cringed at this rude exposure even to the adoring and admiring eyes of a member of her own tender sex, and Dr. Penelope Fielding suppressed a sigh of longing as, having anointed her finger with Vaseline, she now began the anal examination.
Working the tip in very lightly, wiggling it about, then pushing forward a little, she slowly halted it, while Myra Castlebar uttered gasp upon gasp, and the muscles of her thighs and calves surged and jerked convulsively. All her sphincter tightened, giving the Lesbian medico the delicious sensation of having her finger clamped and clutched amorously, as if it were a male prick visiting that secretive crevice of what poetic writers on the topic of fucking are wont to call the temple of Sodom.
"Relax, honey, it's all over and I'm giving you a clean bill of health," she murmured in a voice that had grown more vibrant than ever with her newly aroused lust for this sweet, mature virgin. Deftly, she pulled the gloved forefinger out with a noisy "plop!" which was echoed by a faint, agonized gasp from the squirming patient. Indeed, Myra Castlebar would have given a week's pay to have been able to vanish into thin air, so mortified was she at this unexpected invasion of her virgin secrets.
"You can get down and put your clothes back on, honey." Dr. Penelope Fielding languidly moved over to her desk, sat down and began to enter some notes on the pad. It was just as well for Myra Castlebar's peace of mind that she didn't see what the medico was writing: What an absolute darling little bitch Castlebar is! She has the darlingest cunny I've ever examined, and that little lovebutton of hers is so shy and sweet, I wonder if she's even played with it with her finger. I'll admit there are times I wish I were a man, and maybe that's penis envy, but I know one thing-if I were, I wouldn't let this sweet bitch out of here until I'd hardcocked both those sweet holes of hers and stretched them just a little. I just can't let Madame Helga break her in first, I have to be the one.
After having punished and then consoled pert Sally Eggars, the directress of this unusual educational institution sent the completely submissive girl down to the refectory to bring back her supper, and then admonished Sally to have her own supper and go right back to her room and straight to bed.
Her passions momentarily appeased, the honey-haired Amazon quickly finished her frugal supper of salad and unbuttered toast and tea, and then, still naked in only her black kid gloves and matching spike-heeled boots, touched a camouflaged button in the panel of the wall to the left of her bed. Immediately, a section of the wall swung back, giving entry into a thickly carpeted narrow room which contained only a curious control board and a thirty-two-inch television set, as well as a chaise lounge and a thickly padded low foot-stool. Helga Danielson seated herself at the control board, reached over to turn on the television set, and then flicked one of the many switches before her. Immediately on the screen there came a full view of the refectory, and the dominatress smiled to herself to see the brown-haired teenager hastily eating, glancing nervously around as she did so. There was no doubt the lesson Sally had had this evening would long remain with her.
Then her gloved fingers moved to still another switch and turned this on, and still another picture came upon the huge screen. It was that of the examining room of Dr. Penelope Fielding, and it was just at the moment when Myra Castlebar was assuming the indecent and highly suggestive pose of all fours with head bowed and her bottom and pussy thrusting out to the explorations of the Lesbian medico.
Helga Danielson's large hazel eyes narrowed, and slyly she slipped her left hand down her smooth belly and thence to the golden-thatched mound of her cunt. Leaning forward on the edge of the comfortable chair in front of the control board, she drank in the scene before her, and flicked on still another switch so that the audio might gratify her as well as the visual already did. She laughed softly at Myra's ingenuous protests, and her forefinger began very delicately to rim the soft twitching pink lips of her cunt, for once again she had begun to feel randy just observing the gorgeous nakedness of her newest instructress.
She followed the examination to its very end, and when at last Myra Castlebar left the office, she turned off the set and moved over to the chaise lounge and settled herself, one boot heel on the floor, the other slowly rubbing back and forth against the thick upholstery of the chaise lounge. Once again her forefinger resumed the tickling of her cunt, as she closed her eyes and imagined Myra Castlebar in her luxurious bedroom, a helpless captive who could be taught the meaning of passion.
Then a frown came over her haughty beautiful face, remembering what Myra's destiny was to be at Danielson House. It was a pity that she hadn't found Myra herself, because then she could dictate her own terms. As it was, someone very important to the school was interested in Myra, had recommended her, and would be the one to enjoy that creamy, ripe and yet ever so lithe and vivacious body.
With a sigh, Helga Danielson reached out to the foot-stool beside her, opened a silver cigarette box and took out a long Russian cigarette. Lighting it with a gold lighter, she glanced at this costly device and smiled reminiscently. Engraved on it was the initials "D.R. to H.D." Dear, thoughtful, and oh so very virile David Ruthledge. Just looking at this farewell token from him recalled to her the eight years they had been together.
Born in Stockholm not quite forty-five years ago, Helga Danielson had come from a middle-class family, married a stalwart blonde officer in the border patrol at the age of twenty and enjoyed ten years of relatively happy domestic union. Einar had really known how to fuck a woman, and that was why the marriage had lasted as long as it had, for he had had a bad habit of drinking too much aquavit and glog and then trying to slap her around before he fucked her-something she wouldn't stand for from any man. Yet their reconciliations had been so passionate that she had forgiven him on countless occasions.
Einar had gotten himself killed in an avalanche just at the time when Helga was about to ask him for a divorce, because she had fallen in love with a sensitive young poet only twenty-four years old, a young Frenchman who was visiting Stockholm on a world tour, thanks to the vast wealth of his parents.
The honey-haired Amazon felt almost like a young girl again when she went off with Pierre Vernay on that tour, seeing all of Europe and enjoying fucking in the finest hotels of cities like Budapest, Berlin, Paris, Rome and Athens. Pierre wanted to marry her, but Helga much preferred the spice of an affair. What drew her most to Pierre was his devout way of gamming her, for he had a pointed little beard which he delighted in rubbing against her twitching cunt and especially her clit, driving her to frenzied rapture.
After a year, they parted because Pierre was called back to Paris by his parents who wanted him to marry and have an heir. Helga then set up a beauty parlor and massage shop near the North Bank in Paris, and spent several years there, enjoying switch-hitting affairs with some of her beautiful female clients as well as a number of exciting and virile males.
Her meeting with David Ruthledge came about quite by chance when she was seated next to his table at a fashionable restaurant and the waiter clumsily tipped over his glass of wine, staining her dress. David Ruthledge profusely apologized, wound up by inviting her to share dinner with him, and insisted in buying her a new dress. She discovered that he was a bachelor, just turned forty, and already the head of a fabulously prosperous New Jersey manufacturing company in the business of instrumentation as well as top-security aviation communications systems.
Of all the lovers she had ever known, David Ruthledge was the best, the most imaginative and the most able to hold back his orgasm till he had thoroughly drawn her to at least two good hot comes. And so she became his mistress, a liaison which lasted for eight exciting years.
Finally, and on the most amicable of terms, David Rutledge told her that he had decided to marry so he could have a son to carry on his business affairs. Apart from the monogrammed gold lighter, he set up a sizable trust fund for her in a New York City bank and purchased the property and the buildings of this school, which had once been operated by a seminary that had gone bankrupt. Thus it was that Danielson House came into existence, and Helga's wealthy and generous lover told her that from time to time he might visit her to see how the school was getting along. Since she knew his passion for playful spanking and bondage, she saw to it that those pupils who were entered in the institution were subjected to delicious voluptuous chastisements in order to develop their sexual potential and provide her and the instructors and instructresses she very carefully chose to have about her with the utmost sexual delights.
But for the past several years, Murray Bannister had become one of the sponsors of Danielson House, and that was how the destinies of Myra Castlebar, Murray Bannister himself, and Madame Helga had come to be interwoven in a pattern of complex carnality.
Having watched her newest instructress dress and leave Dr. Fielding's office, Helga Danielson once again felt herself in need of sweet relief from the tingling excitement concentrated in her pussy. She decided on Bettina Moulton, a tall, coppery-haired girl of seventeen, with an exquisitely wistful face and soft, hesitant voice. Bettina had been in the school two years, her dissolute uncle having left her there after her parents had divorced and then left the country, each to remarry. A bank executive was Bettina's guardian and legal administrator, and there was money enough to keep the girl in school for several more years and, after that, to give her another few years of economic freedom. Battina was not only one of the most expert gamahuchers in the entire school, she was also a decided masochist.
Picking up the intercom phone, she dialed the number of Bettina's room, which the girl occupied with a plump, good-natured, brown-haired girl of the same age. Bettina answered, and gasped with pleasure when she recognized the voice of her directress. And a few moments later, the complaisant brunette lay naked over the directress' lap for a stinging little spanking from Madame Helga's gloved hand; then, by the way of thanks for that voluptuous chastisement, she promptly and without being bidden squirmed off Madame Helga's lap, knelt down, put her head between the dominatress' thighs and began to use lips and tongue till at last her beautiful executioner was completely drained of love cream.
On the very same Friday evening which had marked Myra Castlebar's arrival at Danielson House, her most recent employer and his delectable and precocious niece were discussing her in a way that would have made her dainty ears burn. And it was probably just as well for her peace of mind that she was not present to see how Murray Bannister and Carol were making out without her-for that was exactly what they were doing.
Carol had insisted on making supper for her uncle, and, greatly amused and indulgent towards her least caprice, he had lolled back in his kitchen chair, his steely blue eyes riveted on her exceptional figure as she moved gracefully and quickly back and forth between the refrigerator, the kitchen counter and the stove. She wore her favorite tight blue woolen sweater and a pair of skin-tight jeans and loafers. The jeans shaped out the saucily rounded, upstanding cheeks of her bottom to the point of indecency, plainly outlining the widening groove which began at the lower summits and broadened lasciviously at the base. When she stooped to retrieve a dropped spoon, he could feel his prick hardening savagely, because the contouring of her behind facilitated not only dog-fashion fucking but also browning, two of his favorite fornicatory sports. Indeed, his last mistress, a pretty, freckled-faced waitress, had finally broken off with him because she didn't like some of his flights of imagine, which involved spanking her plump, pale, white-skinned bottom to a fiery red and then rudely gripping the quivering, reddened cheeks and prying them apart so he could insert his turgid prick and slowly and vigorously bugger her. Even the compensatory adjunct of frigging her dainty clit with a finger while he enjoyed the tight confines of her rectal chasm did not quite make up for the immodesty she felt and the infallible discomfort.
Murray Bannister had been furious with Myra Castlebar for breaking in on him that particular evening. He was quite certain that if such an interruption had not taken place, Carol would have put up very little protest to his sharing her bed that warm night. Indeed, after Myra's indignant return to her room, Carol had giggled and asked her uncle, "What's with her, Uncle Murray? Why is she so mad just because you want to cuddle me?"
Tonight, he vowed to himself, he was going to give her the answer and a good deal more into the bargain. If he had restrained himself the night of Myra's stormy departure, it had been only because he wanted to be completely alone with Carol to see whether her apparent acquiescence could be tested in the actual crucible of bare skin-to-bare-skin fucking. That was why this Saturday evening was momentous for him, and already he could feel every sinew and nerve in his body tensing with lustful anticipation.
"It won't be long now, Unkie!" the golden-haired girl blithely called over her shoulder as she began to fill a bowl with salad mixings.
"Now don't go to too much trouble, honey. It's a warm night and I'm not looking for a gourmet meal," he affectionately chuckled as he lit a cigarette. He had showered and put on a white linen shirt and just a pair of shorts beneath, socks and opened sandals, and he was completely at his ease.
He could feel his body radiating desire and vigor and good health, all of which would be needed for the initiation of a teenaged sexpot like his niece. Every time she bent or stooped, he felt his prick give a twinge of agony, and he was even wondering if he could go through the ritual of eating supper before making a serious pass at her.
A few minutes later, Carol proudly set before him a tureen of vegetable soup (which of course was out of a can), a generous portion of salad and a plate of crackers, as well as a glass of iced tea with half a lemon squeezed into it (this in itself was an excellent sign, because he remembered having told her how he liked his iced tea). "How's that, Unkie dear?" she giggled as she pulled back the chair opposite him and seated herself.
"It's perfect, honey. It was very thoughtful of you."
"Oh, it's nothing. One of these days I'll really learn how to cook, and you'll be proud of me, Uncle Murray. I know I didn't make the soup, but nobody could make better soup even if they spent all day long doing it, don't you think?"
"Quite right," he agreed as he dipped his soup spoon into the tureen and smacked his lips appreciatively.
"I know it must be tough for you to have to spend all summer with your old uncle," he tentatively began after he had started on the salad, "but I'm afraid this summer I can't get away from my business. But I do promise you that we'll go to New York City for Christmas and I'll take you through all the imagine shops and treat you to a really great dinner at one of those swanky restaurants to make up for it."
"That's all right, Unkie," she leaned across the table and made a saucy face at him. "I'm happy just being with you. Gosh, it's like I was grownup, all by myself with the best uncle a girl could ever have. You know something? Even when I was a little girl, I sort of went for you-maybe I oughtn't to tell you, it might go to your head."
It was all Murray Bannister could do to keep from telling her that it was going to his prick, which again had begun to ache and to remind him that he was in dire need of pussy tonight. Instead, he chuckled and replied, "It's sort of mutual, kitten. You're the sweetest niece an uncle could hope for."
"And you're sweet, too, Unkie. Oh say, I meant to ask you, where am I going to go to school this fall?"
He thought a moment before answering. In fact, he had conceived the idea of enrolling her at Danielson House so she could be close to Myra Castlebar and perhaps even help him in his ultimate plan of conquering that haughty, embattled virginal spinster. "I haven't made up my mind yet, honey," he finally declared after a generous swig of iced tea. "Maybe by next week we'll figure out something. The main thing is, you need to make more friends with people your own age and not be cooped up with a lonely old bachelor like me all the time, especially with all the work I have to do at the plant."
"I'd rather be cooped up with you than anybody else I know, Uncle Murray," Carol Bannister breathed, and her big blue eyes were soft and humid as they fixed on him in a kind of rapt expectancy.
"You're in a very flattering mood tonight, honey. Now then, what did you plan for dessert?" For the time being, he parried her rather obvious play for affection. For once he got down to brass tacks with Carol, there wasn't going to be any fooling around. Either she fucked or she didn't, and if she was only trying to tease, then her teasing days were rapidly drawing to a conclusion.
"I suppose some ice cream, Unkie. Do you really want any?" she purred. Archly, she rose from her chair and moved quickly over to him, then plumped herself down on his lap, wound both arms around his neck and pressed her warm satiny cheek against his. "Gee, I'm so glad she isn't here any more, Unkie. She was sort of cramping my style, if you know what I mean."
He put his left arm around her slim waist, and nobly held back the impulse to squeeze one of those big juicy boobs of hers. Unless his eye sight was going bad, he was almost ready to swear that his teenaged niece had forgotten to put on a bra, because the way that sweater snugged over her bombers looked very much as if that was all she had on from waist to neck.
Carol's golden hair had been braided in an extremely thick pigtail which hung down just below her shoulder blades. She had combed the hair back up from her forehead and gathered it at the back of her head, leaving her pert little ears bare and intensifying the heart-shaped ingenuousness of her face. She had an adorable Grecian nose which crinkled up whenever she smiled or made a face. Though her mouth was somewhat small, it was ripe enough to suggest passionate kisses and, still more excitingly, the ability to suck a man's prick absolutely dry.
Then his eyes widened. He couldn't make a mistake about a thing like this. His maddeningly audacious young niece was squirming her juicy bottom over his lap until she discovered the totem pole of his aching prick, almost standing upright and pressing hard against the fly of the white linen slacks. Then she pressed her cheek closer to his and then breathed, "Why, Unkie Murray, you've got a hard-on!"
Murray Bannister turned red as a beet and coughed. It appeared the roles were being reversed; he was the one doing the seducing, but this sweet little bitch-minx was taking the play away from him. And where in all creation could a sweet-faced seventeen-year-old ever learn a word like that?
"Well, you do so!" she insisted with a pouting moue of her moist red lips. And then, without more ado, she slipped a hand down between his legs while she spread her own and grasped the tip of his ramrod with thumb and forefinger through shorts and slacks till there was no mistake that she had a firm grasp on the enraged and turgid spearpoint.
"Carol-for God's sake, what are you doing?
Where did you ever learn anything like that?" he gasped.
"But, Unkie," she artfully protested in a slurred whisper as she kept applying tiny little pinches to his prickhead through the thin material covering it, "I'm not exactly a baby, you know."
"But just the same, you're only seventeen...."
"But I've only been living with you three months, Uncle Murray, and you're forgetting that I went to school where there were boys before I came here," his amazing niece volunteered, letting go of his prick and playfully squirming her resilient behind more and more suggestively over his now furiously rampant cock.
His arm tightened around her waist and this time he boldly put his right hand against her left boob and squeezed it through the sweater. Then his eyes widened: decidedly, there was nothing between that sweater and Carol's bare skin.
"You mean your folks let you go out on dates, honey?" his voice was hoarse, partly because of the thrilling elasticity of the luscious young love globe which his fingers were palpating and partly because his supposedly virginal ward and niece appeared to know a great deal more about fucking than would have normally been believed.
Carol Bannister gave a soft little laugh and snuggled closer, linking his neck with her soft arms and kissing his cheek as she confided in a husky whipser, "Now don't you get mad at me, Unkie, I just couldn't stand it. Sure I had dates, only I didn't tell Mom and Dad. They thought I was too young to go out with fellows, so I had to sneak out after school and tell them I was with a girlfriend. You aren't mad at me for that, are you? I'm awfully sorry I lied to them, but it's too late to do anything about it now, isn't it, Unkie? Only I promise, now that I'm here all alone with you, I won't ever fib to you."
"And that's where you learned that word, hard-on?" he thickly demanded as his right hand lowered to the hem of her sweater, tugged it out of the waistband of her jeans, and then disappeared under it. He shuddered. The warm, slightly moist satiny quality of her naked skin was like a dose of Spanish fly, and he had to grind his teeth to keep from losing all his jism at the thought that this golden-haired piece of tasty young cunt was going to be even easier to make than he had planned. Not only that, the way she kept wriggling that pert tail of hers back and forth over his lap indicated that she really wanted it!
"Uh huh," Carol had the good grace to blush and lower her eyes, which had, he suddenly noticed, extraordinarily long thick lashes. "It was Bruce who taught me that word. He was my best-est fellow at school back home. Mmmmmm, and could he ever love a girl up!"
"You mean you and he..." he couldn't finish as he stared almost dazedly into her wonderfully luminous blue eyes.
"Uh huh. Are you awful mad at me, Unkie?" Now her voice was propitiatory and the sweet pout of her moist red lips increased as she stared anxiously at him. "Of course, I didn't have any way of knowing I was going to come here and live with you, or I would have waited. But anyhow, you don't have to worry ... you know what I mean. Bruce and I ... well, we went all the way. But don't get excited, he used a safe. I wouldn't have let him otherwise."
For once in his sophisticated life, Murray Bannister was left speechless. His mouth gaped as he stared at his teasing, capricious niece, as if he could not comprehend what she had just told him. Then his hand boldly rose upward to cover her naked tit, the fingers spreading out over it and squeezing lovingly as he crushed his mouth on hers.
Carol Bannister whimpered with delight, and hugged him back with all her strength. She parted her lips and let his tongue explore the sweet, warm, nectared cavern of her ardent young mouth.
He could feel his niece's nipple stiffening under the gentle but insistent caresses of his palm, and the ache in his cock grew more and more unbearable. He felt exactly like a starved man led to a Lucullan banquet and yet obliged for the sake of decorum not to fall instantly upon all the viands and glut himself at one fell swoop. He was never one to care for quickies, and he wanted this first fuck with Carol to be memorable for both of them. Nevertheless, the tightened cling of her arms around his neck, the rubbing of her satiny warm cheek against his and the continued squirming of her saucy, firm behind over his lap had combined into a Tantalus which even mortal man made of the sturdiest stuff could not very much longer endure.
"Are you going to fuck me this time, Unkie, I mean really fuck me?" the amazingly precocious teenager whispered in his ear, giving him a convulsive hug with all her strength. "You don't know how much I wished you'd have done it that night she walked in on us, you just don't. Can I tell you something else, Unkie?"
"I'm just about ready for anything, baby. There's a lot to you I never suspected," he truthfully chuckled.
She giggled then, put her lips to his ear and whispered back, "When you left, I was so itchy I played with myself. I mean it, Unkie! I pretended that my finger was your cock and that I was putting it into my little pussy and I loved myself up until I just about fainted, that's how much I wanted you to fuck me that night. But you can do it now, and you're going to, aren't you?"
"Why, you little devil!" his laugh was hoarse and shaky, betraying his astonishment of Carol's entirely unpredictable knowledge of the way of a man with a maid. For a moment he wondered just how far that boyfriend Bruce had really gone and how many times, and also how it was that his brother and the latter's wife never knew what a sexpot they had on their hands. Then he forced himself to take the upper hand: "What you really need is a good sound spanking, young lady! The idea, sneaking off behind your parents' backs and letting some stupid boy who probably didn't even know how to make proper love to you be your first lover."
"Oooooh, are you going to spank me first, then, Uncle Murray? That would be fun!" Carol squealed and gave him a passionate kiss on the mouth, which made his prick very nearly burst out all its pent-up semen.
"I certainly am," he told her. Setting her on her feet, he yanked the sweater up over her head and shoulders, blindfolding her, while his eyes greedily feasted on the marvelously smooth fresh pink satin of her naked skin. Her back was beautifully hollowed, and her slim waist offset the ebullience of her hips which the jeans so starkly outlined without the slightest concealment. Then he grabbed her by the waist and flung her across his lap, clamping his right leg over her calves and curving his left arm around her naked back just above the waistband of the jeans. Carol meanwhile giggling and squealing in mock-terror, tugged at the sweater in order to free herself of it, just as he lifted his right hand and brought it down smartly on the ripest curve of her right bottom cheek.
"Ooh! My goodness, that stings!" she plaintively complained, trying to twist her bottom this way and that to evade such similar castigations.
"It's meant to," he told her as his hand visited the other cheek at its equally tempting summit. The crisp sound of each smack was thoroughly satisfying, and he could feel the resilient flesh flatten and then spring up under his chastising palm.
Carol's squeals this time were absolutely genuine, and by now she had flung the sweater to the floor and was looking back at him rather ruefully, her eyes enormously wide and humid.
"Hey, no fair so hard," she complained and put a hand behind her.
But Murray Bannister was ready for that contingency, and swiftly grabbed her wrists with his left hand as he raised his right and administered a barrage of rapidly stinging spanks all over her tossing, wriggling, jeans-snugged behind. Carol Bannister began to execute the most suggestive gyrations, her hips swinging exuberantly from side to side, up and down as if in the act of fucking. She tried to bring her free hand back over her bottom, but couldn't reach it, while he spanked her with gusto till she began to cry without faking.
When his hand was stinging, he righted her, clamped his thighs against hers so that she faced him, holding both her hands in his and devouring her heaving naked tits with blazing eyes. "That's for sneaking behind their backs," he irrelevantly explained. "And also for not having told me earlier about what a little Lolita you can really be. And now, to answer your original question, yes, Carol, I'm going to fuck you and I'm going to show you how a man who knows what he's doing can do it to give a girl pleasure. When I get through with you I promise you will forget Bruce entirely-and in fact, if I ever hear his name again in this house, you're going to get a far worse spanking, on the bare and with a hairbrush, is that understood?"
"Ohh, oh yes, Unkie!" Carol gasped, squirming uneasily because her bottom was throbbing, though in a rather stimulating way. Her tear-filled eyes stared down at his crotch, where the evidence of his lust for her was ferociously rampant. He intercepted her gaze and stood up, releasing her hands, "Now you can just march to my bedroom, young lady," he directed.
Carol wasted only a moment rubbing her bottom in a more or less cursory way, and then scampered out of the kitchen and down the hall. Removing his linen suit coat and the polo shirt he wore beneath it, he followed her, naked to the waist, pausing just before entering the bedroom to yank down the zipper of his fly and then to unbutton his shorts so his turgid prick could emerge in all its munificence. When Carol saw that, she would understand it was too late to turn back now, and heaven help her juicy bottom if she turned out to be a cock-teaser!
As he entered, he was enchanted to see that she was just in the act of tugging down her jeans, stooping over so her lush round tits dangled like ripe fruits from the vine, her face red and a little tear-stained, but her eyes shining with an unmistakable anticipation. When she straightened, and before she turned round to face him, he saw that the soft pink skin of her behind was a bright crimson, an exciting and arousing hue.
"Ohhhh, Unkie! It's so big ... it's lots bigger than Bruce's ... oh gosh, I didn't mean that, but it is!" she blurted out, then clamped a hand over her mouth and backed fearfully away towards the wall beside the bed.
"Well, this once I'll forgive you, since you meant it as a compliment," he chuckled. "Only, since this is our first time together, I'm going to have to imitate your young lover by wearing something, since I hardly want to get you pregnant. But we'll put you on the pill starting tomorrow. I want to feel my cock in that snug little warm nest of yours without anything between us, just nature," he came towards her, pulled open the drawer of the night table beside the bed, took out a package of Trojans, and fitted one while she watched with huge eyes. She made no effort to cover her pussy or her tits, so Murray Bannister perceived with a gourmet's relish the already profuse dark golden thatch of pussy-hair around the plump mound of her tasty young cunt. Her navel was quite wide and shallow, a future repository for his prick, for he meant to teach her all the infinite ways by which a man's cock could gratify a girl's desire without necessarily venturing into her cunt.
Having applied the rubber, he gave her a playful slap on her reddened bottom and nodded towards the bed. With a giggle, Carol scrambled on all fours along the wide double bed and then rolled over onto her back and held out her arms to him.
Leisurely now, knowing that no further seduction was necessary and that she wasn't a cock-teaser after all, the stocky industrialist removed his linen trousers and shorts, kicked off his sandais, and joined her on the bed. Lying on his side facing her, one arm under her shoulders and his right hand fondling one of her swelling tits, he bent his head to take the nipple of the other boob between his lips and to nuzzle it lightly with the edges of his teeth, while Carol squealed and cupped his face with her soft warm hand. She had begun to wriggle on the bed, not entirely from the warmth of her spanked bottom but from the agitation of her loins which yearned now as ardently as his cock for juncture.
"Lie back and don't wriggle like that while I get you ready, Carol," he whispered hoarsely. When she obeyed, he knelt beside her, his hands roving over her boobs and sides and hips, while he began to kiss her warm, quivering, naked flesh from the waist downwards, lingering over her navel into which he prodded the tip of his tongue until she squealed and arched and moaned in delirious anticipation and excitement.
Then, seizing her knees and pressing them back up against her panting boobs, Murray Bannister began to kiss the tasty, soft pink lips of his niece's cunthole. Carol, her eyes rolling, moaning and squirming, clawed the sheets with her fingers in her mounting excitement. With practiced expertise, her uncle left her dainty clit till the last, making the tour of the soft inviting rosebud of her pussy. Again and again he could feel the lips twitch and poutingly open to express the girl's readiness for fucking. Then and only then did he apply his mouth to the little nodule above her cunt, kissing and sucking till he could feel her clit stiffen and throb with unmistakable response. Now her moans and gasps and sobs were almost inarticulate, and his fingers had to dig into her kneehollows to keep her in position so she could be properly offered to his lingual caresses.
Carol's head began to move back and forth on the rumpled pillow. Ohh Gawd ... ohhh ... ahhhh! Unkie, oh Gawd, fuck me now, I can't stand it any more, oh please, please, put your big thing into me and fuck me hard, I have to be fucked, you're just killing me doing that! Oohhhh, you're driving me crazy, Uncle Murray, please, please!" she moaned.
He straightened, spread her legs a little more, and thus maintaining her spread open at the fork, aimed his condom-sheathed prick at the twitching, gaping crevice of her vulva. Deliberately, he touched the rims of the soft palpitating lips several times, pretending that he was going to drive in each time, and was enchanted by the way her still reddened bottom contracted and jerked and yawned, exposing the shadowy groove and the dainty rosette of her ass-hole in her frantic contortions.
Carol Bannister was in a seventh heaven of pre-coital rapture. Words poured from her trembling lips, hardly intelligible, moans and sobs and gasps and frantic entreaties, while her toes clawed the air just as her fingers scrambled at the sheets. And then, shuddering, Murray Bannister forced the tip of his prick between the lips of her cunt and inexorably foraged forward till he felt himself up to the hilt in her.
With a wild scream of ecstasy, Carol Bannister flung her legs over and around him as he sank down on her, and her arms rapidly enclosed him, her fingernails punishing his shoulders and back as their lips met in a savage, clashing kiss. Then he began to fuck with long deep thrusts, pausing a long moment after each to savor the convulsive contractions of her cuntwalls which threatened to emasculate him in their very frenzy.
It took every ounce of his self-control to keep from exploding before he had brought her to the pitch, but when they found their simultaneous crisis upon them, he cast all his reserves to the four winds of the earth and dug back and forth inside of her with pitiless fury. Carol retaliated with her teeth and fingernails, until a wild scream of clamorous bliss burst from her at the moment of achievement.
After what seemed like an eternity of aftermath, he raised his face to kiss his niece's panting, soft wet mouth, and heard her whisper huskily, "Ohh, Gawd, Unkie, that was just terrific! I'll bet that's what that huffy old Miss Castlebar needs, and what I wouldn't give to see you do it to her!"
Murray Bannister smiled to himself. His niece was even more inventive than he had imagined. It was going to be very simple to convert her not only into a passionate and imaginative mistress but also as an accomplice in the greater design of ensnaring the virtuous tutoress who regarded him as a moral pariah. For what he wanted even more than Carol was to hear Myra Castlebar cast aside all of her prudish reserve and virginal decorum and claw and pant and scratch and finally shriek when the tides of lust first began to swirl inside her sacrosanct maiden cunthole.
CHAPTER FOUR
On Saturday afternoon shortly after lunch, Helga Danielson summoned her new instructress, and also ordered the four other women teachers of her institution to be present so they might meet Myra Castlebar. There was another purpose to the interview: the blonde intended to warn the other four young women that a strictly "hands off" policy was to be maintained against the unsuspecting black-haired novice. True enough, Helga was eager to taste Myra's creamy-skinned charms, but this was mainly a business matter to which she had pledged her word, and so a certain integrity would be preserved until such time as Murray Bannister should decide to give her further instructions concerning the disposition of his recent tutoress who had become by now the primary object of his quest for the conquest of untouchable pussy. Myra was thus the virgin prize reserved at a later date for the lecherous industrialist, but Helga was quite curious as to the way in which he would go about overcoming Myra's prudish scruples. Needless to say, he had fully acquainted her with Myra's indignant behavior over the discovery of his carnal interest in his niece.
So when Myra Castlebar timidly knocked at the door of Helga's private chambers and was told to enter, she found four extremely attractive young women already there ahead of her in the elaborate living room. Slim, poised, coppery-haired Jennifer Addams was seated on the couch beside Martha Tillotson, a bespectacled, dark brown-haired and rather petite woman of twenty-seven. Jennifer had charge of the female pupils between the ages of fourteen and fifteen, while Martha taught the sixteen-year-olds, some eighteen in number.
Seated in an armchair with her handsome legs crossed and wearing calf-length white kid boots, Susan Amory smiled encouragingly at the nervous newcomer. Twenty-eight, willowy and auburn-haired, Susan Amory had charge of the seventeen and eighteen-year-olds. On a nearby hassock, her arms clasped around her dimpled knees, Dorothea Bunson eyed Myra appraisingly. Her pupils comprised the oldest girls of nineteen and twenty, though Dorothea herself was only twenty-five, buxom and a silver-blonde. She wore a blue minidress which generously revealed the splendidly ripe curves of full womanly thighs and mouthwateringly rounded calves sheathed in off-black nylons, and Myra blushed to find herself glancing at Dorothea's legs, a reaction which the silver-blonde found amusing, since she put her hands to the sides of the hassock and slyly spread her legs to show Myra even more.
"Good afternoon, Myra. I want you to meet your colleagues," Helga Danielson quickly dispensed with the introductions, and Myra stammeringly greeted each of her four female coworkers in the field of education at Danielson House.
This done, Helga resumed, "I'm going to make some changes, and let you start with the youngest girls. There are eight fourteen-year-olds, and they shouldn't be too much of a trial to you. Jennifer will be happy to concentrate her work with her fifteen-year-old group, I'm sure."
"Oh yes, indeed, Madame Helga," the coppery-haired senior of the staff knowingly smiled agreement.
"Especially Sally Eggars," the dominatress added, her eyes meeting Jennifer's in a significantly prolonged look. "I think she's going to be more diligent from now on, but I want you to take personal charge of her and give me a full report every few days ... you understand?"
"Perfectly, Madame Helga."
"Good, that's settled, then. Now Myra, we have only a few rules here, and I know that you have good credentials for teaching. However, at Danielson House, we believe in applying corporal punishment when it is called for by the misdemeanors of the pupils. For anything really serious, you will report the girl to me directly."
"You ... you mean you punish them in class?"
Myra Castlebar, her eyes widening with surprise, incredulously demanded.
"Of course, my dear. Don't tell me that you've never spanked any of your pupils as a tutoress."
"But of course I haven't!" the black-haired young woman almost indignantly responded. "I believe in reasoning with impressionable children, and if punishments are necessary, depriving them of something they want and look forward to. It seems so old-fashioned and barbaric to beat children. I don't think I could bring myself to do that., . " , "Oh come now, my dear," the Amazonian directress laughed softly, with a mocking little glance at her other four instructresses. "No one is talking of beating children, I assure you. You will find, indeed, that a good little spanking on the bare buttocks does wonders to improve the disposition as well as the physical tone of your pupils. Moreover, I have written authorizations from their parents or guardians permitting discipline when I deem it necessary. So you need have no fear of any legal or moral constraint. Of course I don't expect you to be sadistic, and you do not punish the pupils here without cause. But now since the subject seems to trouble you, let us pass to the schedule that you will have and the courses you will teach these youngest of the girls enrolled here."
"In all sincerity, Miss Danielson," Myra Castlebar broke out, clasping her hands and earnestly leaning forward to stare at the honey-haired dominatress, "I don't think I should ever be able to punish a girl. Why, at fourteen, she's almost a woman, and the humiliation...."
"Is precisely what is sometimes the most effective treatment for a self-centered and precocious child of that age." Helga Danielson finished. "I am willing to wager, Myra, when the time comes and you are really annoyed by some of the antics of your girls, you will be the first to apply the polished end of a leather sole to their bare bottoms."
"Oh, never, oh that's impossible!" Myra Castlebar gasped and blushed violently at the mere thought.
But Madame Helga artfully dropped the subject and now began to tell the brunette instructress what courses she expected her to teach her new charges. When at last the meeting was over, Myra Castlebar uneasily rose, not certain that she had made a wise decision in so impulsively accepting the job offered her over the phone without having first examined something of the background of the school and the curriculum she was expected to teach. And yet the courses were the most innocuous in the world: algebra, history, geography and English, all subjects in which she was eminently qualified.
When at last the meeting broke up, Jennifer Addams came up to Myra and confided, "I know it must all seem new and strange to you, Myra, but I do hope you'll like it here. Perhaps it would help if I told you something about the girls you are going to take charge of on Monday. After all, I had them until now and there are a few you must watch for. There is Melita Tarvish, who is inclined to whisper a good deal in class to Maria Olson-she is a freckle-faced little brown-haired minx who-likes to pretend she is much older than she is. Both the girls have already been punished by me several times, I might add, as well as by Madame Helga herself."
"But is it true? You mean ... the teachers here spank the girls?"
"Of course. And the male instructors have that privilege too if the girls commence violations of the school rules which happen to involve their boy pupils. As for the boys themselves, they are also punished the same way, as well as by Madame Helga at times when it is necessary. But I wouldn't have you think that this is a dungeon or a gloomy institution where there are beatings or anything like that. Quite the contrary. We have a lovely relationship with our pupils in the main, and most of them are extremely affectionate and well-disposed towards us." Jennifer Addams smiled to herself at these words, which hid from the astonished black-haired novice the real state of affairs. like the other instructresses, she had been briefed by Madame Helga exactly how Myra Castlebar was to be kept in the dark until the propitious moment came for her enlightenment.
"I don't know," Myra Castlebar said, doubtfully shaking her head. "As I told Madame Helga, I don't think I could ever bring myself to use physical force on any of my pupils, even if they might seem to need it. I shall certainly try to be a good teacher, because I need the job very badly. I did tutoring for private families just before I came here, you see. And of course I must get accustomed to the ways of this school. But I shall certainly try to teach my pupils all they can learn and, I hope, without having to punish any of them."
"As a matter-of-fact, Myra dear," Jennifer Addams slyly slipped her arm around Myra's supple waist, "the girl I just mentioned to you, Maria Olson, who will be your responsibility starting Monday, is on my punishment list. And since you obviously don't want to begin your work here by taking over that duty, I shall be happy to relieve you of it. Perhaps, also, you might like to watch and see how I do punish a naughty girl. I can assure you it is not at all brutal or cruel. It might be a very good lesson for you, Myra."
"I ... I don't really want to watch...."
"Oh, come on now, don't be such a straight-laced creature!" the coppery-haired instructress laughed softly. Her eyes were devouring Myra's creamy-skinned beauty, and her own innate Lesbian yearnings had already been aroused by the brunette's naivete and beauty.
At last Myra Castlebar reluctantly agreed to accompany her new friend to the latter's apartment, and once there, Jennifer Addams rang a bell to summon Mrs. Glover, a plump, gray-haired woman in her early fifties who was one of the two laundresses of the institution and doubled as matron on occasions such as this.
"Would you please bring Maria Olson to me, Mrs. Glover," Jennifer drawled. After the woman had nodded and left the apartment, Jennifer turned to the new instructress. "Just make yourself comfortable in that chair. I'm going to change and I'll be right back."
Wonderingly, Myra Castlebar seated herself in the black leather upholstered armchair and sank back at her ease, uttering a sigh which was half in relaxation and half in uneasy concern over what her new position might entail.
A few moments later there was a timid knock at the door and then it was opened by the young culprit who had been summoned by the matron. Maria Olson was surprisingly well-developed for her fourteen years, about five feet four and a half in height, with a stunningly ripe pair of closely spaced young tits which promised in about five years to require all of a size-38 bra or possibly even more. Her face was oval, petulant, and her olive skin was vividly freckled over the cheeks and the upturned nose. Her mouth was extremely ripe and small, and her light brown hair was cut in helmet style with a broad fringe along the middle of the forehead, and the curls at the sides of the cheeks came down about halfway also. She wore the obligatory white silk blouse and a black satin skirt whose hem went down only so far as her round, dimpled knees. These were sheathed in black silk hose, and her feet were fitted in black suede pumps with narrow heels nearly four inches in height. Her waist was extremely slim, and it set off the effulgence of her pertly rounded bottom and rather short but already appetizingly contoured thighs.
Perceiving Myra in the armchair and not her instructress, Maria's hazel eyes widened with a little anxiety, and she glanced nervously around. "Is ... is Miss Addams here? I'm supposed to see her," she vouchsafed in a somewhat unsteady voice.
"She'll be along very soon, so why don't you sit down there on the couch and wait for her?" Myra pleasantly responded.
"Oh no! I'd only get extra if I did that! I'm supposed to be in penitence. Please ... I didn't expect to see you here, Miss, but please don't tell her!" And with this, Maria Olson knelt down on her palms and bowed her head, facing the door through which her instructress was soon to come.
This attitude of humility and anxious submissiveness further surprised the beautiful black-haired young woman, who now began to wonder how it was that if chastisements were not really severe here, a girl like this would impose upon herself so self-effacing a posture while waiting for an ordained punishment.
When Jennifer Addams reappeared, Myra could not help uttering a stifled gasp of surprise at the costume her new friend had put on for receiving the errant pupil. The coppery-haired instructress seemed to be wearing not much more than a form-hugging bathrobe of red satin, and white calfskin boots which rose slightly above sleek knees. Myra noticed that Jennifer had combed out her coppery hair back away from her forehead and gathered it into a single plait deeply held by a silver barrette at the neck. Then her eyes fell on a gleaming black leather slioper sole, which the mature instructress gripped in her right hand.
"Maria, you know why you're here, don't you?" she at once demanded of the kneeling girl.
"Yes, Miss Addams. I'm here to be punished for naughtiness in class," Maria responded in a low voice.
"Yes, that's right. Inattention, whispering, and shirking your studies. This, by the way, is Miss Castlebar, our new instructress. Starting Monday, I'm going to take just the older girls in our class, Maria, and she will have you under her wings. That's why I want her to see how naughty girls like you are punished here at Danielson House."
"Yes, ma'am," the charming young culprit stammered, blushing violently, but keeping her head bowed and remaining kneeling on her palms. The black-haired young woman marveled at this unusual submissiveness in so young a girl. It was to be one of the many facets that would startle and confound her well before her first semester was over!
"Kiss the instrument which is going to inflict your punishment, young lady," Jennifer next commanded, extending her slim right hand and the leather sole toward the culprit's sensual young mouth. And Myra's eyes widened as she saw how Maria leaned forward to plant a quite audible kiss upon that gleaming implement.
"You may prepare yourself," was the next order as Jennifer sat on the couch. Seated opposite her, Myra could observe that the gleaming bathrobe clung to the supple thighs of the instructress, and that a black belt was tightly knotted at Jennifer's waist. Then, as the instructress slightly parted her knees, Myra's eyes widened with astonishment: she could have sworn just then that she had just caught a glimpse of the long lithe tawny-sheened insides of Jennifer's thighs and then a glint of dark red pussy-hair at the very apex between them.
Maria Olson rose, quickly unhooked her skirt and moved to one end of the couch over which she draped it. Again it was Myra's turn to gasp, because under that skirt the girl wore absolutely nothing except her stockings, which were rolled around elastic garters. She was thus naked from the waist to the middle of her thighs, and the olive smoothness of her fresh young skin was exquisitely provocative. So, too, was the quite evident thicket of dark brown pussy curls framing the exquisite pink lips of her dainty young cunt.
"Position now," Jennifer commanded, tapping her lap with the slipper sole.
"I ... I really should be going, Jennifer," Myra stammered, growing more and more ill at ease.
"Nonsense! Stay right where you are! I can assure you that Maria is not at all disconcerted by your having to watch her get her naughty bottom well-spanked. If she dares to show the slightest humiliation or annoyance at your being here, she knows perfectly well it will cost her big behind a good deal extra ... don't you love?"
"Oh yes, Miss Addams!" the half-naked teenager instantly replied as she draped herself over Jennifer's lap, stretching out entirely along the couch, and then covering her blushing face with her soft little hands as she abandoned herself.
Myra's eyes were riveted to the surprisingly plump naked bottom cheeks of the victim, contracting now in understandable anticipation of what was to follow. She could perceive the deep cleft furrow between the huddling globes and the shadowy mystery which led to Maria's twin orifices of pleasure. Very calmly, Jennifer Addams encircled the girl's slim waist with her left arm and, patting each of the bottom summits with the surface of the gleaming sole, casually remarked, "Now remember to stay in position, Maria. I am going to give you thirty-five. You are going to count each one."
"Yes, Miss Addams," the young girl's voice trembled a little, and Myra saw her body stiffen and prepare itself for the oncoming chastisement.
"Really, Miss Addams," she quavered, "I don't really want to watch ... it must be terribly embarrassing for the poor child...."
"She's hardly a child, even if she is fourteen," the coppery-haired instructress dryly interposed. "I can assure you she is very talented in things that you don't even know. Besides which, it's Madame Helga's wish that you watch the method of procedure. You know, after all, you will be expected to punish your own naughty pupils. Now then, Maria, are you quite ready?"
"Yes, ma'am," Maria's voice was faint but audible as she tightened her legs together and surrendered her voluptuous young naked bottom.
The sole slowly rose, hovered a moment in the air, and then descended like a plummet, crisply intoning a reverberating smack on the very center of the right ass-cheek. A stifled little gasp was heard and Myra watched the girl's bare bottom convulsively jerk from side to side.
"One!" Maria gasped out, still keeping her hands tightly pressed over her face.
On the olive smoothness of that delectably round globe, a bright pink splotch outlined the kiss of the sole to stand out in contrast against the unblemished satiny loveliness of the charmingly contoured girlish ass.
Jennifer Addams was in no hurry. Allowing as much as twenty seconds between spanks, she visited the delicious bare behind of the submissive young culprit with swiftly descending smacks of the leather sole which alternated on the globes. First right and then left, descending to the base and then resuming at the tops of the bottom cheeks, she imparted a vivid and uniform red coloration to the quivering, squirming hemispheres. Maria counted diligently, and was given several pauses to compose herself, after the tenth and twentieth. Not once, Myra Castlebar was thunderstruck to observe, did the girl plunge her hands back to soothe or protect her flaming naked ass, but she did swerve her hips, arched them and twisted and shook wildly in the air under several of the noisier spanks which seemed to impart considerable anguish. Also, tears and sobs and babbled promises to be a good girl from now on were mingled with her counting of the strokes as the spanking progressed.
When it was over, she lay crying unrestrainedly over the instructress' lap, and only then did Jennifer Addams remark, "Now you may rub, Maria."
The soft little hands flew back and began to rub frantically, trying to disperse the fiery glow which had suffused the palpitating ass-cheeks with a bright red hue. Also, Maria crossed and uncrossed her legs constantly during the spanking, and sometimes kicked up one leg or the other or sometimes even both, permitting Myra Castlebar to observe a salacious glimpse of her adorable pink-lipped pussy.
Then the red-haired instructress held out the sole to the girl's mouth, and Maria promptly kissed it, and then, even more to Myra's astonishment, sobbingly stammered, "Th-thank you for punishing me, ma'am, and I promise I'll be good from now on, honest I will."
"You took it very well, I'm pleased with you, Maria," Jennifer Addams' voice seemed husky now and very vibrant.
"I ... I think I really will be getting back to my room," Myra Castlebar's voice was unsteady as she forced herself to rise from the armchair. Her face was flushed and her boobs were rising and falling erratically. Although half a dozen times she had been inclined to call out and beg Jennifer to let the poor child off, secretly she had to admit to herself that she had not been able to take her eyes off that reddening, wriggling, squirming naked behind. And the characteristic crisp sounds of the spanking, of the leather sole against bare girl-flesh, had roused a singular enervation in her being. In fact, she hardly rose from the chair, and her thighs felt weak and shaky. There was a warmth, too, prickling along her inner thighs, and even her nipples had begun to tingle. She didn't understand what it all meant, but she knew she couldn't watch any more.
"Very well, if you must. Say good-night to your new teacher, Maria dear," Jennifer prompted, laying the leather sole across both flaming ass-cheeks and giving them a dainty little tap to emphasize her order.
"G-good-night, Miss Castlebar," Maria tearfully complied.
"Oh ... good-night, Maria. I'm so sorry you had to be punished. You will try to be a good girl when you're in my class, won't you?" Myra asked.
Then, biting her lips, she gave Jennifer Addams an almost imploring glance and hurried out of the latter's apartment.
Jennifer Addams laughed softly and tossed the sole to the floor. "Go lock the door, darling, then get back here quickly," she whispered.
Maria quickly slithered off her beautiful executioner's lap and hurried to bolt the door. As she returned, she was unbuttoning her blouse, and let it drop to the floor. A moment later, the bra followed it, and she was naked except for her gartered stockings, for her pumps had long since been kicked off during the energetic flurries of her lovely young legs under the duress of the spanking.
Jennifer Addams' eyes narrowed and glowed with sensual excitement. Swiftly her slim finger unknotted the belt, then unbuttoned it and let it yawn apart. Under, she was naked. The narrow dark aureolae in which pert, stiffened lovebuds grew, stood out against the tawny sheen of her panting, thrusting boobs. Little tremors raced up and down the insides of her parted thighs.
"Do me!" she hissed, and Maria promptly sank down on her knees on the floor, put her hands against Jennifer's lower thighs, and leaned forward to impart a tender solacing kiss on her executioner's eager cunthole. With a groan of delight, leaning back against the couch and closing her eyes, Jennifer Addams clenched her thighs against the flushed, tear-stained cheeks of the young penitent. She felt the girl's tongue goad and prod her, till at last it attained her clit; and then from her lips there poured a torrent of lascivious endearments. "Ahhh, that's it, you sweet little bitch! Gam me good now, or back over my lap you'll go and I'll thrash your sweet ass raw ... mmmmm, oh, Maria honey, that's so nice, rub it with your tongue a little harder and faster right there ... oh, baby, that's a good girl, oh, how sweet you are ... give it to me, give it to me hard!"
The noisy sucking and licking and slurping of the teenager's lips and tongue now mingled with Jennifer Addams' gasps and groans, till suddenly a violent spasm shook the instructress. Sprawling her thighs, she arched, her hands gripping the back of Maria's neck to force the girl into her crotch for a final penetrating love-thrust, and then she lolled, sated.
A long moment later, lying on her side with Maria facing her, her hand cupping one of the girl's boobs while her other hand gently soothed the still vividly swollen and burning naked bottom cheeks, Jennifer Addams purred, "You sweet little devil, I'm very proud of the way you acted before your new teacher. She doesn't know anything at all about things like this, darling. And you're going to have a reward. How would you like to lose your cherry to one of those nice boys in Mr. Edwards' class?"
"Mmmmmmhmmm, oh yes, Miss Jennifer!" Maria adoringly breathed.
"Very well. I'll speak to him about it one of these days. And of course I'll send you off to Dr. Penelope so you won't have any pain at all when you get your first fucking, honey girl. Only of course, you're going to be true to me first and foremost, aren't you?"
"Oh yes, Miss Jennifer, I do love you so! You know ... it was so exciting knowing that she was watching me get spanked ... and then I knew what you wanted me to do later, only I wasn't to say anything about it, was I?"
"Absolutely not, dear. That's why I told the matron to warn you to keep your naughty little mouth shut," Jennifer Addams happily murmured. "Come now, I'll give you a little treat for being such a darling. Turn around now, that's it, and put your sweet mouth up against my pussy again. Then I'll do the same for you."
And even as Myra Castlebar hurriedly undressed, pulled on her pajamas and got quickly into bed and turned out the light, hoping to find in deep sleep a forgetfulness of what she had seen, Myra Olson and Jennifer Addams were indulging themselves in a prolonged and exquisite sixty-nine.
CHAPTER FIVE
Myra Castlebar had found sleep difficult to achieve this Saturday night, even though she had taken as cold a shower as she could stand after returning from Jennifer Addams' apartment. As a matter-of-fact, she had first gotten into bed and tried to sleep only to find it impossible. That was when she had got up, impatiently removed her pajamas, taken the shower and, still shivering after she had toweled herself, put her pajamas back on, wound the covers up over her head and closed her eyes tightly as if to blot out all that she had seen. Yet her sleep was troubled, and unconsciously her soft hand wandered down along her thighs till it came to rest on the plump mound of her virgin cunthole, where even in the depths of her eventual slumber her fingers began to move about and evoke a tingling sensual awareness.
She woke about four in the morning, to find herself exhausted and, most shameful of all, the crotch of her pajama trousers moist. Blushing with horrified mortification to discover that she had reverted to a girlhood practice which she knew was absolutely indecent and disgusting, she forced herself back into sleep by reviewing in her mind the subject she was going to teach her select group of fourteen-year-old girls.
When she woke, it was nearly noon, and after she had showered again and dressed, she went to the refectory for a combination breakfast and lunch. Most of the pupils and the instructors had already eaten, but she perceived at the other end of the spacious dining room a tall, wiry, prematurely gray-haired man who was finishing a cup of coffee and enjoying a cigarette. He wore a blue polo shirt and thin slacks and sandals, and he put down his coffee cup as soon as he observed her coming towards the table with her generously laden tray. For Myra Castlebar had discovered that she was ravenously hungry, although the realization that she could be so after what she had seen last night made her more uneasy than ever. She was beginning to wonder if she had not made a mistake in accepting this post, knowing so little about the school as she did and still less about the woman everybody called Madame Helga.
"Well now, you must be the new teacher Madame Helga just hired," the man called to her. "Come over here and let me introduce myself."
Myra hesitated, then took a deep breath and slowly approached the table. But she began to blush the moment she saw his intense dark brown eyes fix on her, for the look in them and the intentness of that look conveyed a decidedly lustful admiration of her personable charms.
"Don't be frightened, I won't bite," he chuckled, patting the seat beside him as he drew out the chair with his other hand. "I'm Homer Grange. I teach the oldest boys here, you know."
"No, I ... I didn't. I ... I'm Myra Castlebar," the black-haired young instructress faltered as she seated herself and began hastily to remove her repast from the tray and shove it to the other end of the table.
"Myra. That's a very lovely name and it certainly suits you. Let's see, now, you'll probably be taking the youngest girls, the newcomers usually get saddled with them. Not that they can't be fun, mind you. Have you ever taught before?"
"Yes, and I've done some tutoring," Myra confessed as she tried to avoid his intent look and began on a piece of honeydew melon.
"Well, this is a unique school, you may depend on it, Myra ... I say, you don't mind if I call you by your first name? There are not too many of us, and it makes for a happy little family relationship to use first names around here. But of course you'll find that out for yourself," he went on garrulously.
"I ... I suppose it's all right," she murmured doubtfully. "Are most of the students already in residence here?"
"Bless you, yes. Most of them stay the year round. You see, Myra, I don't know how much Madame Helga has told you, but Danielson House is a kind of refuge for the unwanted offspring of the rich and the bored and the swingers, if you'll pardon the expression."
"Oh?" she looked up, startled.
"Of course. I'd say that everyone registered here was sent off by a relative or a parent who was breaking up a household or who didn't want the kids around so they could be free to live their own lives. They pay a stiff tuition, don't think they don't. But that way, the kids don't get into their hair. And it's not as if this were a prison or a cloister ... far from it." He chuckled, shifted his chair a little closer to her, and regarded her with an even more appraising look than ever.
"How dreadful it must be, how lonely they are ... they don't go back to their homes over the holidays, then?"
"Some of them, yes. But you mustn't feel sorry for them. As I said, they're all the offspring of the rich. Most of them will come into money when they come of age, and their lives will be nicely ordered for them. When they get out of here, they'll have had more idea of the sort of fun young people can have in the world than most of their counterparts on the outside. It's really shocking how few teenagers really have a good foundation in sexual education, you know."
The subject was hardly calculated to make Myra feel more at her ease, and she blushed and mumbled something unintelligible as she fell to her bacon and eggs and buttered whole-wheat toast.
Homer Grange crushed out his cigarette, yawned and then rose. "Well, I've got a training session in about an hour, so I might as well get ready. Probably see you around in here and then we could have another nice little chat. By the way, I'm in room 42D, in case you want to visit at night." He bent down to her and put his hand on her shoulder. "Of course, I'm not one to push myself where I'm not wanted. I suppose you do have a boyfriend or two ... I wouldn't think much of my own species if there actually wasn't a crowd of suitors claiming you, Myra girl."
Myra was blushing furiously and praying that Homer Grange would take himself elsewhere. She flinched under his touch, and stammered something about it being a very nice compliment and yes, she did have someone in whom she was interested. She was complimenting herself on having thought of a ruse which would compel Homer Grange to turn his attentions elsewhere, when she was further astounded by his sly parting shot: "Well, Madame Helga doesn't like any of the instructors, male or female, to have their sweethearts or lovers visit the school. So she does encourage, shall we say, a very warm friendship between the members of her teaching staff. What I mean is, if you feel the urge and want to visit me some night for a little fun, I should certainly do my very best to make you happy."
Her fork dropped with a clatter to her plate as Homer Grange chuckled to see the effect of this quip, and then strolled out of the refectory.
"Well, I never in all my life..." she gasped to herself, glancing feverishly around to make certain that he had left the dining room. Then, shaking her head, she finished her breakfast and went back to her room.
Homer Grange knocked on the door of Dr. Penelope Fielding's office and was admitted by the Lesbian medico herself, wearing a white linen smock and black leather knee-length boots with spike heels. "Are we all ready for the little experiment, Penny?" he chuckled.
Her aloof, exquisite face tautened with annoyance. "Quite ready," she briskly snapped. "Ralph and Amy are waiting in my office now."
"Very good. I'm anxious to get started myself. Er ... I assume you took care of Amy so there wouldn't be any problems there?"
"Naturally. It was done Friday morning, for your information, Mr. Grange."
"Oh, come on now, Penny baby, don't be standoffish with me." He winked and tried to put his arm around her waist. "You're looking somewhat peaked these days. Why don't you let me prescribe a very salutary night this next week?"
Dr. Penelope Fielding moved away, shoving his arm down with an angry gesture. "I don't care to have you call me Penny, Mr. Grange. You know perfectly well I don't like you. You're on the staff because Madame Helga approves of your methods, but that isn't to say that I share her views ... especially about your amorous proclivities. After all, aren't your satyr-like desires satisfied by Susan and Dorothea? I know they've gone to bed with you."
"Yes, they have," Homer Grange cheerfully admitted, "but if you want to know something in strict confidence, every time I make love to Susan, I think of you, Penny. Probably because both of you have auburn hair, which really works me up. And besides, in my personal opinion you've got an even nicer figure than Susan. Why don't you let me explain what I mean in detail, hm?"
"If you want to get your face slapped, Mr. Grange, just keep it up. Ralph and Amy are waiting in the examining room, I'll send them out to you. And one thing more. Amy is a very sweet girl, and although I know it has been arranged for her to be initiated I trust you'll keep that stupid boy from going at her like a bull."
"Never fear. The testing room has already been furnished for some very esoteric sex. I don't believe in crudity ... as I'll be happy to prove to you any night you say."
"Please drop the subject!" Penelope Fielding's voice was almost shrill and her lips curled with disdain and repugnance. "All I ask is that you send Amy back to me after your little experiment is over. The poor darling will need some consolation."
Homer Grange shook his head as he lit a cigarette. "What a waste! I'm sure that she'll find pleasures she hasn't even dreamed about once she's in the testing room. As for yourself. Penny, I'd be willing to bet a month's pay that if you spent just an hour with me in there, you'd get over your ice-princess act towards me."
"That's just like all men," the doctor contemptuously sneered. "All of you seem to think that all you have to do is take a woman to bed with you and you'll convert her overnight to wanting what you have between your legs. Well, that doesn't apply to me, and I'm not ashamed to tell you. After all I was once married, and I didn't much care for it. And now, so that we can end this unpleasant conversation, I'll send your subjects out to you. Remember, I want Amy back in this office the moment it's over."
With this, she turned her back on Homer Grange and went back into the examining room. With a sigh, she beckoned to a tall, sensitive-featured ash-blonde girl of seventeen and a gangling, curly brown-haired boy a year older. "It's time, Amy and Ralph. Mr. Grange will take you to the testing room."
Amy Lorton blushed vividly and hung her head, while Ralph Jenson reached for her hand and squeezed it, whispering hoarsely, "Don't be scared, Amy honey, it's going to be great. I'm crazy about you, I won't hurt you, you know I won't."
"That's enough talk, come along, you two," Homer Grange smilingly directed. He watched Amy move quickly ahead of the boy, and his eyes detailed the lithe, springy jounce of her bottom. like all the girls in the school, she wore the customary white blouse and black skirt, and the fine sheer hose elegantly sheathing her high-set, sinuous and very sleekly turned calves.
Unlocking the door of the testing room, he entered and the young couple followed, a little hesitantly. Ralph coughed and cleared his throat, looked nervously at Amy and then flushed. But his eyes widened when he saw the interior of the room. It was soundproofed and along the floor were laid thick rubber sheets, like a kind of carpeting. In the middle of this room, which was about the size of the ordinary living room, there was a long, low, backless and quite wide, black leather padded couch. A little table was near it, and on it stood a copper urn containing mineral oil. These were indeed the only furnishings-save that the ceiling was mirrored so the performers might look up and see themselves reflected in all their fornicatory antics.
It may be remarked here that a number of the wealthy patrons of Madame Helga's establishment wished their male or female teenaged wards or kin to have specific sexual experience, and so indicated as much to the Amazonian directress. In the case of Ralph, his parents were dead and a profligate uncle had inherited their lucrative importing business in New York City. Ralph himself had been brought up as an intellectual, with few friends and certainly no female acquaintances. His uncle, on the other hand, a robust and extremely pussy-conscious man in his early fifties, had no desire to have a young prig as his nephew, and so had written Madame Helga to have the boy initiated into the joys of fucking so he could accompany his uncle when they toured Europe and visited some of the most famous whorehouses in Amsterdam and along the Reeperbahn in Hamburg.
As for Amy, she too was an orphan except for a lecherous uncle who intended to make her his mistress and who rightly figured that if her virginity were already scientifically taken and she were taught the rudiments of fucking and discovered the pleasure thereform, she would lend herself far more readily to his intended attacks upon her exquisite maidenly virtue than if she had remained ignorant of the ways between a man and a maid.
Amy had first been introduced to sex through the good graces of Dr. Penelope Fielding herself, who had taken the charming ash-blonde teenager into her bed only a week ago, when it was decided to begin her "training," so she would be a consummate bed-bitch by the time of the Christmas holidays, when her uncle intended to take her to New York and stay at one of the swankiest hotels and enjoy her body as part of his Yuletide fare. It was Dr. Penelope Fielding also who had performed the painless minor operation of removing her hymen with a scalpel so that when she had her first fucking-which was now imminent-there would be no pain and only bliss when she would feel for the first time in her life the thrust of a vigorous male cock, which of course was to be Ralph's.
"Now then, both of you, strip down raw," Homer Grange instructed. "Ralph, see that urn on the table there? It's full of oil. Go over there, pour some into your hands and work it all over your body, and I mean everywhere-your cock, your bottom, your belly, your arms and legs-everywhere, understand?"
"Y-yes s-sir," the gangling youth stammered, growing red in the face, as he eyed his intended fucking partner.
Amy, very self-conscious, turned her back on Homer Grange and began to unbutton her blouse, while he lit a cigarette and watched with a mocking little smile. Personally, he would have enjoyed being the initiator himself, but Madame Helga had decreed otherwise. Of course, once a girl like Amy had been broken in and got a taste for it, there would be no problem in getting her to come to his apartment on future nights. The thought cheered him as she slowly slipped her blouse off, reached behind to unfasten the hooks and eyes of her bra and let it fall to the floor. The smooth, pale, pink-sheened texture of her naked flesh made his prick stiffen against the fly of his thin linen slacks, and it was tantalizing for him to wait until the sweet little bitch turned around so he could see everything she had. She didn't look exceptionally big in the boob department, but then, he was more of an ass and leg man anyway.
Meanwhile, Ralph had obediently taken off everything including his socks, and had filled his palms with the slippery oil and was splashing it over his belly and hips, rubbing it in vigorously, also somewhat modestly turning away from Amy so she wouldn't see that he already had a hard-on. It was commendably sized, and it began to jiggle obscenely as the youth shifted from foot to foot and then stopped to rub the oil along his sinewy, lightly-haired thighs.
Now Amy was unfastening her skirt and letting it fall around her slim ankles, and Homer Grange sucked in his breath and felt his prick ache with longing. AH she had on was the briefest pair of white nylon panties, which left bare the base of her lovely ass-cheeks. These were oval-shaped and closely spaced, with a deep and very narrow shadowy groove parting them. In order to bugger her, a man would have to yawn those juicy ovals apart to expose the dainty fissure of the brownie. And Homer Grange could imagine just how tight that backdoor entrance of hers was, just from the contouring and tightening of those velvety, smooth pink hillocks.
The black hose set into even more concupiscent relief the radiant pink satin of her naked flesh, lustfully accentuating it. Amy's legs were delightfully long, her thighs rather slender but broadening as they reached her ass. They were smoothly muscled too, denoting litheness and verve, for all her shyness.
Yes, he envied the lucky bastard. Ralph was going to be the first to put his stiff ramrod deep into that luscious, tight, young cunthole, and for a moment he was sorely tempted to wave Madame Helga's orders and substitute himself-but that very well could be calamitous, since Amy was to be summoned immediately after Dr. Penelope Fielding had interviewed her, to go to the apartment of Madame Helga herself to report on her experience. It would hardly do, therefore, for him to gain a momentary pleasure at the risk of losing a sinecure like this. Besides, he comforted himself, he could always call Christine Bernard, the delicious brown-haired bespectacled petite and plump seventeen-year-old from Susan Amory's class who had already been initiated by him several months earlier at Madame Helga's order. Christine would certainly oblige easing his tensions tonight, tensions that were already building monumentally at the very sight of Amy now beginning to wriggle out of the brief panties, stooping so her delicious oval-cheeked ass thrust provocatively out towards him.
Her back was delicately hollowed, beautifully sculptured, though her shoulders seemed a bit frail. Almost impatiently he waited for her to turn. Ralph by now had completed oiling himself, and stood with both hands trying desperately to hide his enormous hard-on, a ludicrous spectacle indeed. Hell, the young bastard looked as if he were scared to go ahead and fuck a dish like Amy! It was like throwing pearls before swine in Homer Grange's expert opinion, but there was unfortunately no help for it.
"Go sit on the edge of the couch, Ralph, and have a cigarette if you like. Here!" Homer Grange tossed the youth his pack of Pall Malls and then his lighter, forcing the young man to forget his projecting prick as he awkwardly caught both objects in turn and then hastily seated himself, hunching over so as once again to hide the protuberance of his readied cock. Of course, you couldn't fault the young bastard for showing some feeling towards a girl he was going to fuck for the first time, but just the same he ought to be more brash and poised, if he intended to take the lead as he was going to be taught to do. The last thing his uncle wanted was the sort of fellow who would lie back and let a girl get on top of him and do all the work, Homer Grange sardonically reflected.
"Are you ready now, Amy dear?" his tone was gentle and benign to the scarlet-faced, hugely embarrassed naked girl-or almost naked, for Amy still retained her pumps and stockings, which made her seem even more naked than had she been completely Eve-bare.
"Y-yes, Mr. Grange," the girl quavered as she slowly turned to face him, pressing one hand tightly over her virgin cunthole while a wave of fiery red blushes surged over her cheeks and forehead and even down to her slim throat.
She was really adorable that way. A somewhat exotic face, wistful in the small but not too ripe mouth, the dainty aquiline nose with widely flaring thin nostril-wings, and the intense narrowly spaced brown eyes surmounted by very thick, patricianly arching brows. She had dainty little ears which hugged the skull, but her face wasn't what interested Homer Grange at this moment. What delicious boobs the sweet young bitch had! Closely spaced, modestly shaped pears, uptilting a little and thrusting out their buds which were pert and crinkly amid small, coral-tinted aureolae. Her belly was flat and smooth with a wide shallow navel, but what he really wanted to see was her cunt and she was hiding it.
"Now I'm going to anoint you with the oil, my dear. Don't be afraid, and remember that I'm here purely impersonally to supervise and make certain that Ralph makes proper love to you," he said in a reassuring voice.
"I ... I know, Mr. Grange," the girl stammered faintly, her blushes deepening as she drooped her lovely head. Her ash-blonde hair was coiffed in a charming upsweep and curled off to the left side of her head, a very sophisticated do, and one which made her seem older than her seventeen years. Homer Grange went over to the urn, took hold of the handle with his right hand and poured a liberal portion into his cupped left palm, set the urn back down upon the table, and then moved towards the shivering, naked beauty.
"We'll start with your back, dear," he said gently, "because you do have to get used to being naked with your lover. Actually, you're very beautiful and desirable, and I'm sure that Ralph over there has a lump in his throat just thinking about you ... isn't that so, young man?"
"Y-yes, Mr. Grange," Ralph panted, blinking his eyes rapidly because tears of lust were beginning to sting them. Both of his hands were now clutching his prick to keep it out of sight as well as to hold back the impetus to spurt all his savings, because the sight of Amy in her black silk stockings and high heeled pumps was driving him up the wall.
Amy quickly turned her back as Homer Grange approached her. He began to lave her slim neck and then her shoulders, moving over the shoulder-blades and loving the fine texture of her smooth pink skin, the delicate modeling of her upper back and following the lovely indentation of the spine as it moved down towards the chinkbone to mark the demarcation of those delicious, jouncy ass-cheeks. It was all he could do to keep from squeezing and pinching them lewdly while he rubbed his prick against the tight furrow between them, but he forced himself to think of mathematics and plane geometry (which he taught among other subjects, to his male charges) in order to distract himself. Of course it didn't work, and he knew he was going to have to call Christine Bernard as soon as he finished with this fucking session.
"Don't be nervous, now dear, it's going to be beautiful, you watch and see," he soothed as he finished rubbing in the oil. Moving over to the table, he replenished the supply in his palm and this time he began on her bottom. Amy gasped and turned her face back over her shoulder, her eyes humid and wide, her blushes deeper than ever at this invasion of her maiden treasures. "You've a very beautiful body, it's something to be proud of, and I'm here to make sure Ralph appreciates it while at the same time giving you the utmost pleasure," he again tried to reassure the trembling naked girl.
He was careful not to stain the fine black silk stockings, and now it was time to anoint her front. "Now you can turn around, dear, and close your eyes if you wish. Just pretend I'm not here, or remember I'm a kind of chaperon," he chuckled.
"Y-yes ... s-sir," Amy's voice was fainter than ever as she forced herself to turn, though she still kept one hand protectively over her cunthole. Once again he filled his palm with oil and then returned to her. Beginning at her neck, he rubbed the oil gently into her tits, marveling at their springiness and the pouting way they thrust out their sweet buds. Once again it was all he could do to keep from kissing them and licking and sucking them-he made a mental note to instruct Ralph to be certain that he do just that to waken the sweet, naive bitch. On the other hand, after a spell with Penny Fielding, Amy ought to know something about what a girl's body was made for.
Now his fingers were palpitating her belly, and then he looked up and whispered, "Grasp the back of your neck, dear. I have to rub this in all over, you know."
With a sigh, Amy resolutely lifted her hands away from her cunt and put them to the back of her neck, closing her eyes and shivering. At the same time, however, she tightened her legs, but this did not hide the charming and surprisingly plump mound of her virgin pussy. The light brown curls framing the soft conch shell of her cunthole were silky and charmingly piquant, but they did not hide the pink labia, nor the dainty little nook sheltering her maiden clit. He wondered just how much Penny Fielding had taught the sweet bitch about her clit. That was something Ralph was going to have to understand if he meant to be a cocksmith in the best whorehouses of Europe.
He felt her tremble and heard her gasp as his fingertips very lightly worked in the oil over the lower abdomen and then the lips of her cunt themselves, ending along the inner thighs and then reaching round to rub his fingertips just into the edges of the mysterious furrow which separated her jouncy oval bottom cheeks. She could not help squirming about, and the undulating tremors of her hips and loins made his prick ache with savage fury. Christine Bernard was going to spend quite a good deal of time tonight in his apartment, or his name wasn't Homer Grange!
"There now, I think we're about ready, aren't we?" he rose and declared in a tone of false jocularity. "Now then, Amy dear, lie down on the couch with your legs just slightly parted and your arms held up to Ralph. You, Ralph, sit down on the edge beside her and kiss her a little bit and cuddle her. I mean her breasts, and don't go at her like a starving man who hasn't eaten a meal in a week, you understand me? I've already given you a few pointers on how to behave with a girl, haven't I?"
"Yes, you ... you have, Mr. Grange," Ralph croaked.
He scrambled up from the couch and moved away to let Amy recline upon it. Blushingly, with one hand covering her scarlet face, and this averted to one side with her eyes closed, the charming naked ash-blonde virgin slightly parted her trembling thighs, her free hand clenched into a desperate fist as if to protect herself at the ultimate moment of danger.
"You must relax, Amy dear. And you, Ralph, it's your duty to make her relax, and to let her understand there is nothing to fear and that it's going to be lovely and delicious for both of you," Homer Grange counseled.
He made a sign to Ralph, and the naked, gangling youth leaned towards the shivering Amy, his hands awkwardly moving towards her rapidly heaving naked boobs as he bent forward to kiss her mouth. With a little whimpering sigh, Amy accepted this, and this time raised both hands to cup his cheeks and hold onto him as for security.
"Very good!" Homer Grange's voice hoarsened with his own mounting, feverish rut, for he could sublimate it by watching these two virgins. And he envied them, damned if he didn't, because the first time a man or a girl experienced fucking was a moment that could never be equaled again in all of life. "Take it very slow and easy, Ralph. Kiss her and use your tongue, too, man! You know what I told you! And with your fingers gliding lightly over the erogenous zones. Make her proud of her body, not ashamed of it."
He watched vigilantly as the youth tried his best to hold back his own agonized impatience and kiss and fondle the shivering naked virgin. Ralph buried his face between Amy's panting tits, while his hands moved slowly down her sides to her hips, then moved under her bottom cheeks to hold her thus. Now his mouth was at her belly-button and Homer Grange again approved. "Excellent, my boy! All the way down now, and kiss that sweet pussy, and then use your tongue, there's nothing like that to ease a girl's fears the first time!"
Ralph obeyed, and Amy moaned and let her head fall back now, clutching her own swelling boobs, as the boy put his mouth against her cunthole and began to kiss it noisily, then thrust out his tongue and rimmed her.
"Stroke her thighs with your hands, too, and kiss the insides of them," Homer Grange thickly directed, and again was obeyed. He could see Ralph's bludgeon of a young prick, almost bursting with sap, upright between his lean, strong thighs, and he could understand what lustful torture this virgin male was suffering.
Now Ralph's hands were stroking the insides of Amy's squirming thighs, and his mouth was continuing to pay homage to her virgin pussy. "Up a little now, boy," Homer Grange instructed. "See that little button just above the lips? That's the clitoris, the most sensitive place of all a girl has. Wake her up that way and you'll have yourself a sweetheart for life, Ralph boy!"
"Oohhh ... mmmmm ... oohhh, oh, Ralph, it tickles so ... oohhh ... oh, what are you doing to me?" Amy suddenly squealed as her knees went up in the air and spread wide apart; then she half-sat up in her exquisite torment.
"That's the way! Now then, both of you, down on the rubber sheets. You'll find it more exciting to do it right there on the floor. And the feel of the rubber against your bare skin will excite you both," Homer Grange panted. By now his own hand was pressing his feverishly aching prick back into its moorings, because his own urge to expend his bubbling sperm required every iota of his self-control.
Ralph stumbled to his feet, reached for Amy's hand and lifted her from the couch. Then he hugged her, his hands splaying over the cheeks of her tensing naked ass, as his mouth crushed hers in a fiery kiss. "I have to fuck you now, I just have to, Amy honey. Please let me," he groaned.
"That's a hell of a way to talk to a virgin, you stupid boor," Homer Grange growled. "You're going to frighten her, showing the animal in you like that. Oh well, the harm is done already. Get her down there on the floor, but kiss that pussy of hers again and fondle her breasts a little more before you get into her. I'll supervise the two of you!"
Amy was trembling and still blushing; but this time, with less fear, she seemed to accede to her young, awkward novice-lover's petitioning. She let herself be drawn down to the rubber-sheeted floor and lay down on her back, while he crouched on all fours beside her, his hands feverishly cuddling her heaving tits while his lips paraded over them. Moving downwards, he again began to kiss her cunt, not forgetting the cowl where her dainty love-button was hidden.
Squeals and gasps announced that Amy was being wakened to the moment of her unvirgining, and then suddenly Ralph forgot his manners and, pushing the thighs rudely apart, flung himself upon her.
"No, damn it all, I told you not like that." Homer Grange angrily scolded. "Don't force yourself in, it'll chafe her. You're supposed to put it in gently, and get her acquainted with it by putting her hand on it and letting her see what's going into her. Oh well, now you've gone ahead and done it, I guess there's nothing more I can say. Just don't go off too fast, give the poor girl some pleasure at least!"
He went down on his knees beside the coupling pair, and stared hungrily at their cohesion. He could see that Ralph had already inserted half of his stiff cock between the twitching pink lips of Amy's dainty virgin slit, and that she had already locked her arms around him and put her stockinged calves over his shuddering thighs.
Their lips were meeting and her face was rapt and tense, concentrating on what was happening to her.
Then Ralph completely forgot about Homer Grange's presence. He began to fuck Amy with deep and rapid in-and-out thrusts, and the girl vibrated and writhed under him, moaning and kissing him hard, finally clenching her thighs over his bottom and digging her fingernails into his back as they both expired in paroxysm.
"Well, that'll have to do. All right, Ralph, you can go back to your room. Amy, you may dress and then go back to Dr. Fielding. I'll bid you both goodday. And I'll have something to say to you tomorrow, Ralph boy, because you just barely got a passing grade," he dismissed the teenagers.
CHAPTER SIX
As soon as Homer Grange had watched Ralph hastily dress and leave the testing room and then seen the pretty naked ash-blonde girl put on a cotton bathrobe, retrieve her discarded clothing and hurry back to Dr. Penelope Fieldings' private office, he strode back to his own apartment and, once inside, picked up the phone and rang one of the two matrons who happened to be on duty that night. "Please have Christine Bernard come to Mr. Grange's apartment at once," he ordered.
Then, pouring himself a stiff drink of whiskey from the cut-glass decanter on a sideboard, he downed it in almost a gulp, shivered, patted his belly and then grinned lewdly. Watching that randy young bastard with sweet Amy had given him an edge that, as Shakespeare had said about Ophelia in his famous drama "Hamlet," would cost Christine a good deal of groaning to take off.
About five minutes later, the attractive, seventeen-year-old, dark brown-haired pupil timidly knocked at his door and was told to enter. By that time, Homer Grange had taken off his slacks and polo shirt and clad himself in just his bathrobe and sandals, smoking a Corona cigar.
"Did you want me, Mr. Grange?" Christine timidly inquired. She was still in her school uniform of white blouse and black skirt, as the older girls were permitted an extra hour before bedtime. That was delightful so far as Homer Grange was concerned, because he was in the mood to l watch Christine undress garment by garment until all she would be wearing would be her black silk stockings and garters and her high heeled pumps, reminding him of delectable Amy who had already aroused him to fever pitch.
"This isn't your time of the month, is it, honey?" Homer Grange suddenly remembered that even teenaged girls were subject to the curse of the moon, and it was a thought which irked him just in case he should have been unlucky enough to summon shy but sexy Christine at such a time when he was most in need of a good fucking.
"Oh no, Mr. Grange!" Christine meekly lowered her lovely dark brown eyes and blushed.
"Very good. I need you now, honey. Take off your clothes very slowly. Leave on your stockings and pumps. You were a good girl the last time, and I know you're going to be again tonight so I can tell Madame Helga."
"I'll do my best to make you happy. Mr. Grange," Christine Bernard replied in a low husky voice which thrilled him inexpressibly. Swiftly her soft little fingers began to unbutton the white blouse, and she shrugged it off her dimpled rounded shoulders with a maneuver that set into wonderful relief the round, closely spaced and splendidly developed globes of her boobs, confined snugly in the caress of the white nylon bra which outlined the large buds of her nipples and the broad pink love-circles in which they centered. A moment later, the skirt had fluttered to the floor and she stepped out of it, approaching him in matching bra and panty set, the black silk stockings hugging the lush curves of her neatly rounded calves and rather plump, somewhat short thighs. Christine Bernard was about five feet two, her face heart-shaped, with an adorably dimpled chin, a ripe generous mouth, Grecian nose with widely dilated wings, and her body was that of a petite houri out of some Islamic seraglio. Her ass was really magnificent, upstandingly rounded, with a gradually widening cleft between the globes to suggest the most delicious accessibility to each of her love clefts. He could already see through the filmy panties the abundant dark brown thicket of pussy curls which hid her pouting young snatch, and her bare skin was an exciting pale white, for Christine Bernard was an excellent scholar and did not particularly care for outdoor sports. The glasses she wore made her seem more intellectual, and this contrast between the voluptuous half naked body she now exhibited and her gentle, shy demeanor heightened Homer Grange's frantic lust immeasurably.
"I presume you've been taking your pills regularly, Christine dear?" he muttered as he came slowly towards her, unbelting his bathrobe and letting his heavy prick thrust out.
"Mmmmm hmm, oh yes, sir," the bespectacled teenager whispered, her eyes widening behind her glasses at the sight of his enormous ramrod. "How do you want me tonight? Should I use my mouth or do you want to fuck me, Mr. Grange?"
"Both, so don't expect to go back to your own little room for quite some time, honey," he chuckled triumphantly. "First, let's get the bra and panties off so I can really see what you look like. You've a gorgeous figure, Christine. Just don't overeat when it comes to desserts on the menu. I know that you don't do much in the way of outdoor exercising, and it's easy for you to put on weight, with a figure like that. You're just right the way you are, remember that."
"Thank ... thank you, Mr. Grange," his young mistress blushingly stammered as she reached behind her to unhook the bra and then to grasp the waistband of her panties and roll them inside out and off and step out of them. Unlike Amy, she made no move to conceal the luxurious thicket of her cunt hair, but stood proudly, even though blushing with arms at her sides so his gleaming eyes might fully inspect her delectably mouthwatering charms.
"I've heard pretty good reports about you in glass, Christine. Miss Amory says she hasn't had to spank you in quite a long time. Let's see now, you've been here almost a year, isn't that right?"
"Yes, sir."
"What do you hear from your Uncle Harold?"
Christine Bernard had, without being ordered to do so, knelt down then crawled closer towards him. Holding aside the folds of his open bathrobe, she now charmingly advanced her rosy mouth to attack the spearpoint of his turgid prick. Before beginning, however, she lifted her lovely humid eyes up to his flushed face and stammered, "I'm going to spend the Christmas holidays with him. Madame Helga says it's quite all right."
"I'm sure it will be. And I'm sure your uncle is going to be very proud of what you've learned here at Danielson House."
"Oh yes, sir. I only hope I can please him as much as I please you," the charming, precocious teenager volunteered. "May I go ahead now and make you happy, Mr. Grange?"
"Yes. Try to make me hold off as long as I can. I'm already wild, as you can see. After the edge is off, then I can give that tight, itchy little cunt of yours the good long fucking it needs," he told her in a voice that trembled with frenzied desire.
He put his hands to her cheeks and cupped her face while Christine Bernard obediently opened her mouth and nibbled at the tip of his throbbing prick. Closing her eyes, and shivering a little at the hard rampancy of this unusually vigorous male lollipop, she gradually accepted his organ just past the deep groove and then clamped her lips over his organ and began very diligently to suck, making certain he could hear the moist, slushing noises.
Homer Grange groaned, clamping his palms harshly against Christine's moist, flushed cheeks, tilted back his head and ground his teeth together to hold back the flood of torrential jism that was bubbling up to the lips of the savagely throbbing glands.
"Slowly, baby, slowly, I don't want to go right now," he moaned.
Swiftly, Christine disgorged her charming mouth of the enormous weapon, bent to one side and began to run her pert pink tongue over the gnarled, hairy balls, flicking the scrotum and then diverting him by caressing the sensitive insides of his sturdy thighs with her delicate pink membrane. Her eyes were very wide now and quite humid, and her quickened breath made her dainty nostrils clench and dilate, for it was evident that this seemingly shy and scholastic beauty had already become converted to the pleasures of the flesh. So indeed she had, and she had a definite masochistic psyche which Homer Grange had discovered when he had been requested to initiate her at Madame Helga's order. Christine's uncle was her sole guardian, her mother having died two years earlier, and in his business endeavors he was desirous of marrying her off to the son of one of his business backers. It would cement his business alliance with a very powerful and wealthy ally and insure his own industrial success. To that end, he had enrolled the shy and reserved girl with specific instructions that she was to be taught how to please a man in bed as quickly as she could absorb both theory and practice, for he intended to marry her off when she reached her eighteenth birthday.
Christine was well aware of this, but since her only knowledge of the way of a man with a maid was theoretical, she had balked a little at being mated with one of the more advanced boys in the school. So Madame Helga had sent her to Homer Grange, who had simply taken her across his lap, first spanked her panty-sheathed behind and then, when she had begun to cry satisfactorily, he yanked her panties down and resumed on the bare ass until she finally begged him to stop and promised tearfully that she would do whatever was required of her. The fucking he had given her that night had thoroughly converted her to enjoying it, and of course the spanking had whetted both their carnal appetites.
Since then, Christine had come to his apartment at least once a week, even without being bidden, and he knew that after she had serviced him orally, she would want to be "forced" to do "naughty things," and then really unleash all of her latent young passions.
It was a program that was quite in line with his own desires this particular night. And just the same, it was all he could do to keep from making her swallow all his spunk here and now, for the touches of her tongue were maddening.
"Stop for a minute, baby," he shoved her face away, took a deep breath and then forced himself to turn away and to relight his cigar. "Let me take my bathrobe off and then I'll go over and he down on this couch and you can do me properly, honey." This done, he nodded to her to resume.
Homer Grange uttered a low groan as little Christine's soft pink tongue-tip returned now to brush against the puckering lips of his cockhead, and once again he had all he could do to hold back the viscous burst of energy in his overloaded balls. He stared avidly down at the petite ash-blonde teenager, admiring the jut of her satiny bottom and the dimpled curves of her soft shoulders. Very definitely, she was not going to get back to her room for a good long while!
What he liked best was seeing her in only her black silk stockings with elastic garters at the tops and her glasses, for it was a costume of exquisite salacity, suggestive enough in itself to give the most deflated cock a formidable erection. And evidently the once shy and bookish girl had taken greatly to the sport of making a man's hardness soften, only to make that softness hard once again in turn, for she glanced up at him in an adorable moue and blushed divinely as she paused a moment to ascertain the state of his excitement. By now he could hardly hold it back.
"You've learned a great deal, Christine," he commended her in a shuddering voice. "Go on now, but I warn you to be ready to catch it all and swallow every drop down, or else you shall have a sound spanking on that plump behind of yours!"
She shivered, and he knew once again he had excited her by appealing to the masochist in her. And this too increased his own pleasure, for he could well play sadist to her counterpart, knowing how much more passionate this would make her.
Now she began to run her soft little hands up and down his hairy legs as she tilted her head to this side and then that attacking his stiff, bulging, dark veined prick with furtive little swipes of her soft, moist, hot tongue. He dug his fingernails into his palms, drawing in his breath with labored efforts as he strove mightily to hold his jism back, but it was impossible. With an agonized cry, Homer Grange plunged his fingers into her soft curls and twisted them while at the same time bellowing, "Now, you sweet bitch, get ready to drink it down!"
Swiftly little Christine Bernard opened her mouth and sucked in the head of his ramrod, and at that very moment he felt himself shaken by a tremendous paroxysm, felt himself gush torrents of spunk into her submissive mouth.
He could hear her swallowing, and choking and gasping, but the sweet, naked teenager managed to down it all. Her face very red from the effort, she at last straightened, only to see a pearly drop glisten on the quivering lips of the meatus, and then drop to the floor.
"Ah, ha! You let that drop go, Christine, and you know what that will mean, a good sound spanking on your bare behind!" he pretended to be stern with her.
Christine gave a little squeal and cowered, clasping her hands against her swelling boobs, and looking up at him humbly, but the glistening humidity in her dilated dark brown eyes told him quite well that she secretly cherished this new role of submissive martyr to male lust and was only too anxious to have him pursue her ordeal till she in turn achieved an equally furious come.
So, leaning towards her, Homer Grange took Christine's right earlobe between his left thumb and forefinger and ordered, "Come along, you naughty girl, you're going to be punished for disobedience!"
With a frantic little squeal, the delicious, naked, bespectacled teenager rose and followed him as he led her, she stooping forward to ease the traction on her dainty earlobe in a way that made her lush young boobs jiggle and dangle in the most inviting way imaginable, over to an armchair in which he seated himself. Forcing her over his lap, he clamped his right leg over her calves, gripped both her wrists with his left hand after curtly directing her to put her hands behind her back, and ran his right palm luxuriously over the flinching cheeks of her magnificent bottom.
His limp, greased cock rubbed against her squirming belly, and he began to feel already the wakening urge to a more prolonged bout of passion with this paradoxically tempting Lolita. His right hand rose and fell, summarily flattening the right summit of her upturned naked behind, and Christine gasped faintly and glanced nervously back at him, her eyes bigger than ever behind the horn-rimmed glasses.
The resilience of her ass flesh was absolutely thrilling. He visited the other cheek now with a sharp spank at exactly the same area, amusing himself to create a pattern of pink splotches which would excite him, as well as the noise and the sound of her subsequent tears and petitions. Slowly, he spanked her wriggling bare bottom, with deliberate pauses between each spank so as to derive the utmost gratification from the feel of her belly and loins against his lap and most particularly his now hardening prick. From time to time he paused to caress the reddening hemispheres, and soon Christine was sobbing gently.
"If I let you off any more, do you think you can be a good girl and please me without more mistakes?" he now demanded as he punctuated the question with a really noisy and stinging slap, bridging the shadowy groove between her huddling bottom cheeks.
"Oww ... oh yes, Mr. Grange, I'll do just what you want, honest I will, please don't spank any more, please!" Christine sobbed as she jerked her captive wrists against the hold of his left hand.
"Well, we'll see about that. You may get off my lap now, kneel down and thank me for the spanking."
Releasing her, he watched with growing excitement as the sobbing, bespectacled girl, without even taking time off to rub her inflamed bare seat, promptly knelt down and, taking his spanking hand between both of hers, fervently kissed it and looked up at him with tear-burning eyes. "Th-thank you for spanking me, Mr. Grange, I'll be good, I'll please you, you'll see, just let me show you!" she avowed in a faint, choked voice.
"All right, then, Christine. Suppose you get up and sit astride my lap, with your back towards me. I want to feel those big firm sweet tits of yours while I fuck you," he said relishing the lewd words with a girl who, had she been clothed would never in the world have suggested the ardent, masochistic teenaged houri which Christine now was clad only in her glasses and black silk hose.
Promptly she turned around, showing him the inflamed cheeks of her plump behind against which the untouched smoothness of her upper thighs and the voluptuous caress of the black silk hose provided titillating contrast. Adroitly she straddled his thighs and, reaching behind her with one soft little hand, took hold of his once again violently rampant prick while with the thumb and forefinger of her other hand she opened the lips of her pussy to accept his vigorous offer.
"That's lovely, Christine girl!" he thickly commended as his hands grabbed her swelling, velvety boobs, the thumb pads pressing the stiffened nipples back into their love circles. Arching himself from the chair, he felt himself thrust home to the very balls inside Christine's tight cunthole. At once he could feel the spasmodic contractions of her vaginal walls, imparting a tender and passionate kiss upon the throbbing structure of his aching prick. The best part of this, however, was that now he would be able to prolong the fuck, since she had already taken off his edge by Frenching him so deliciously. With a groan of pleasure, he bent his head to apply a kiss on the smooth sculptuary of her naked back, the flesh of which was pleasantly warm and moist and itching. Christine sighed, closed her eyes and tried to straddle her thighs even more hugely so as to grant him every possible access.
"Do you feel me inside of you, honey?" he asked with a gloating joy of mastery.
"Ohh ... yes, Mr. Grange ... it's all the way inside of me ... it's so hard and hot! Ohh ... ahh ... mmmm ... oooh!" Christine Bernard panted.
"You could do a little work too, so wriggle up and down, but don't dare let my cock slip out of that sweet tight cunt of yours, Christine, or you'll get another spanking," he slyly warned, giving her nipples a sudden little pinch which drew a squeal from the naked young beauty, who glanced back over her shoulder at him. He thought to himself that Dorothy Parker had been horribly wrong when she wrote that famous couplet about men never making passes at girls who wore glasses. If she had seen Christine now, naked except for glasses and the black silk hose, perched astride his thighs, her back to him, her boobs sweet captives in his hands, his prick stuck up to the hairs inside her tender twat, the poetess would doubtlessly have revised her poem.
Christine arched herself up a little and warily slid down on his spearpoint, causing the most delightful frictional adherence between the tender membranous flesh of her cunt walls against his taut bulging organ. He could feel the quivering tremors which seethed not only through her cunt-hole but also through her ripe, satiny ass-cheeks so pleasantly warm against his naked knees from the spanking he had just inflicted. Her squirming about increased his gratification, and he urged her to continue, again warning her not to let him slip out of her love-core unless she wanted the red color of her bottom turned a far more dark and burning hue.
To feel her wiggle up and down, to feel her fingers always taking hold of his cock shaft so as to steer it along the way and to prevent its slipping out of his deliciously warm housing, was to savor the most exotic pleasures that fucking could possibly offer and no matter in what century a man was born, he assured himself. He could feel the trembling of her thighs, the surgings of the long muscles along the tender insides as, widely sprawled apart over his legs, the naked, bespectacled teenager continued to move up and down, making short maneuvers so as to prevent the calamity which would cost her bottom additional penance.
Thus the short range of her pussy friction against his cock intensified the sensation in the limited area of her movement, and so drew him closer and closer to the brink of gut fulfillment. He continued to pluck and tweak her nipples, feeling them stiffen and, when he glanced round her, observed their darkening hue as the sensitive erogenous tips were goaded by his repeated caresses. From time to time his lips pastured along her smooth bare back or shoulders or sides, tickling her and making her execute convulsive little squirming movements forward and from side to side further chafing the walls of her humid, contracting cunt against his tortured prick.
But by this time Christine had begun to feel the exquisite rasping vigor of his cock deep within her tender quim, and her breath quickened, her head tilting back a little, her eyes rolling to the whites and her delicate nostrils flaring and shrinking. Her hands rose and clenched in the air just above her panting boobs, testifying to her mounting excitement. And thus it was that his prick did slip out when, after a final wriggling dissent which made his cock once again nearly sink tc the balls inside of her, Christine felt so delicious a twinge of nearness to hot girl come that she rose up farther than she should have and so disconnected their cohesion.
"I told you not to do that, you naughty little bitch," he growled. "You know that's going to cost you. Get back here over my lap!"
"Oh don't ... oh, Mr. Grange ... I couldn't help it, honest I couldn't. I didn't mean to do it, truly I didn't! Oh, please don't spank me ... I ... I want you to fuck me instead, oh, I'm getting so close, please don't spank me now, Mr. Grange!" she sobbingly entreated.
But Homer Grange ignored her timid and tearful supplications, seizing her by the elbows and once again forcing her back over his lap. Christine Bernard burst into tears and, clasping her hands in front of her, bowed her head and closed her eyes in submission. A faint glistening sheen along her back and lower spine told him her fucking gymnastics as well as her emotional excitement had drawn perspiration from her lovely naked flesh, and he smiled greedily at this proof of his own virility and power over her. Without bothering to put his leg over hers to hold her down, he simply circled her waist with his left arm and then resumed the spanking. But this time the spanks fell quickly and briskly as well as at random all over both tossing, contracting shuddering bare bottom globes, so the fading red originally imparted was at once revived and grew even more obscenely vivid.
Christine sobbed and pleaded for mercy, but he knew he wasn't hurting her in the least. What torment she had was caused, there could be no doubt, by her nearing climax, and she was so frantic to have the spanking over and done with so she could once again feel his stiff hard prick deep inside her tender cunt drawing her over the edge of the erotic precipice to which he had brought her by his carefully calculated lovemaking.
Keeping his hand pressed against the base of her right buttock, where the last spank had fallen, and cupping the flaming, palpitating naked flesh right at that delicious curve where buttock merged with thigh, he leaned to her and hoarsely asked, "Now do you think you can be a good girl and give a man the kind of fuck he deserves, young lady?"
"Ahhhh ... oh yes, yes, please, dear Mr. Grange ... don't spank me any more. I'll be so good, I won't let it fall out of my pussy again, honest I won't ... please ... please stop now, please fuck me!"
He drew her to her feet, rose, and then with a groan of lust, sinking his fingers into the jouncy hemispheres of her well-spanked naked ass, thrust his prick savagely up to the balls inside her twitching humid cunt.
Christine squealed with joy, flung her arms round his neck and arched on tiptoe, grinding her body against him in the most wanton exhibition of desire. Her eyes were closed, and a rapt look of exquisite desire was on her flushed, tear-stained face.
Drawing himself back to the brink of her cunt, he crammed home again, warning her in advance of the vigor of his thrust by digging his fingers into the warm flesh of her bottom. Repeating this at calculated intervals, Homer Grange soon brought the lovely penitent and himself to crisis, and with a cry of exultation he felt himself gush his essence deep into Christine Bernard's quaking love canal.
He knew he was going to report to Madame Helga that Christine could be married this very night and not discredit her destined marriage bed. For his own pleasure, however, he sincerely hoped Christine's uncle would not withdraw her from the school for quite some months yet, not till he had taught her some of the other enchanting variations on the theme of fucking, which would include between her spectacular lovely boobs and the tender, plump, velvety cheeks of her voluptuous young ass.
CHAPTER SEVEN
On this Sunday before Myra Castlebar's first Monday-morning class at Danielson House, Martha Tillotson, instructress for the sixteen-year-old girls, was entertaining towheaded Carl Edwards, the stocky, dark brown-haired, thirty-four-year-old instructor of boys between the ages of twelve and fourteen at this liberal and unique institution.
Martha was paying off an obligation, since she had allowed Carl Edwards to enjoy the talented lips, tongue and pussy of one of her own special favorites, Elsie Courtney. About two weeks ago, the boys' instructor had sat down at her table in the refectory and jokingly remarked that there were times when a teacher grew tired of his task and envied his colleagues who had far more attractive and impressionable pupils. When Martha smilingly asked him what he meant by that, he had boldly countered, "I'd like to take over your class for just about an hour and have a little fun with Elsie Courtney." To this Martha had smiled and responded, "I don't see why that can't be arranged, Mr. Edwards. Only it's tit for tat, if you'll pardon the vulgar expression in the light of present-day meanings."
Since Martha Tillotson herself in some ways resembled charming Christine Bernard-except that she was ten years older and an inch and a half taller-it was understandable that Carl Edwards had enjoyed sitting next to her and staring rather greedily at her superb, widely spaced, high-perched tits. They were like young cantaloupes, and in Carl Edwards' estimation, they needed absolutely no bra to support their ardent thrust against the bodice of a summery blue, cotton frock.
like Christine, Martha wore glasses, black horn-rimmed affairs which suggested her own studious nature. However, her studies went quite beyond the classroom curriculum; Martha Tillotson had married at the age of seventeen in order to escape her strict small-town parents, and a year later discovered that her husband was a pussy hound and a gambler, which did not augur well for her economic future. She left him not quite a year later when, following the advice of a gossipy neighbor, she found him in a motel room with a henna-haired waitress who was busy giving him an expert blow job. Since this was something which Martha herself had not been able to bring herself to do even in the first honeymoon raptures with her handsome husband, she was shocked and then indignant.
Her husband filed suit for divorce and obtained it without any contest, but Martha left the small Ohio town where she was born because she did not want to have her parents say "I told you so" or face the mocking and malicious taunts of her neighbors. Going to New York, she found a job in a modeling agency and three months later became the mistress of one of New York's best commercial photographers. This liaison lasted two years, completely did away with Martha's sexual inhibitions so she found herself not only willing but also eager to French a man she cared for. Her lover, who had decided to get married to an heiress, was grateful enough to Martha for her fidelity and enthusiastic cooperation in bed to find her a job as a companion to a retired school principal who was bedridden. From this job, Martha received the inspiration to go to night school and get her credits so she could get a teaching certificate, which she did when she was twenty-five. At that time, her employer had died and she began in a rural school not far from Danielson House. Helga Danielson had met her some eighteen months ago, visited one of her classes, and made her an offer that Martha Tillotson could not afford to turn down.
At that point in her life, the bespectacled, dark brown-haired instructress much preferred the male, but thanks to Madame Helga, she was edified in the ways in which one female could console another. Thus she became an enthusiastic switch-hitter, and she had already sampled Elsie's ardent young charms before lending her pupil to the initiatory passions of Carl Edwards. Elsie herself had been longing to be fucked, and of course when a mature male instructor personally supervised this undertaking, she experienced exquisite pleasure. That same sort of pleasure was now being afforded her delectable teacher in Carl Edwards' apartment.
Martha had come to him in a green satin hostess gown and high heeled pumps, her tawny-sheened body quivering with impatience. Elsie had eagerly and very graphically related to her instructress the details of her first fucking, and these details had made Martha certain Carl Edwards would prove a highly satisfactory lover.
After he had given her a glass of sherry and they had both smoked a cigarette, while seated side by side very primly on the huge Chesterfield at the back of the living room wall, Carl Edwards had put down his glass, crushed out his cigarette, taken Martha by the shoulders and kissed her very gently on the neck. Her long dark brown hair was coiffed in a thick pageboy, giving her a very youthful and extremely feminine look. Without removing her spectacles, for he, just like Homer Grange with Christine, found the contrast of in-tellectualism and passion irresistible, he put his left hand to the back of her neck and began to caress it while his right hand rummaged for the silver zipper at the top of the hostess gown and slowly pulled it down. As the zipper descended, the folds of the gown parted and his eyes widened with delight to see the upper curves of her magnificent boobs come totally bare.
His hands moved down to her waist and he edged forward toward her, and his lips began to brush against the valley between those splendid love-globes. Martha shivered voluptuously, closing her eyes, and began to stroke the back of his head with a slim, ringless hand. Her other hand moved with purpose down to the fly of his dacron slacks, jerked it down almost impatiently and disappeared to open his shorts and draw forth the bulging structure of his cock. This she squeezed proudly in her soft palm, while his kisses grew more passionate than ever. Another yank of her zipper exposed the stunning exuberance of her cantaloupe-like tits, and Carl Edwards immediately paid homage to each rosy, well-developed nipple, sucking it, nibbling it with the rims of his teeth, and then rubbing it with the tip of his tongue.
Elsie had definitely not exaggerated about his amatory abilities, Martha Tillotson happily thought as she let him do as he would with her. The zipper moved down to the waist, and now his hands gently drew the parted hostess gown off her body, leaving her thrillingly half naked. His hands caressed the smooth, deeply hollowed estuary of her bare back, while he concentrated on each of her nipples in turn, sucking and kissing and tonguing it until he could feel it stiffen and harden and, when he at last released those palpitating lovebuds, see them darken with the erogenous blood drawn to their sensitive cores.
Carl Edwards was independently wealthy, his widower father having been an archeologist who was paid a great deal of money by several famous museums for his excavational finds. He had majored in education during his college days, visited Berlin by way of postgraduate celebration and there fallen deeply in love with a honey-haired German beauty who had turned out to be a sadistic nymph. The marriage had wound up by Carl's giving her a taste of her own medicine with her leather riding crop when he came home unexpectedly from a trip to Paris and found her training a naked bellboy with whip and boot and spur. Disillusioned, he had spent a year or two pursuing pussy throughout the European capitals, and then gone back to the United States to work as a private tutor simply to keep himself occupied.
But his natural passion for women could not take a continent life too long, and eventually he met Madame Helga and was engaged by her as an instructor for the youngest boys in her unique institution. However, what he had learned about women during his experimental period stood him in very good stead with luscious Martha, as it had indeed with the auburn-haired instructress Susan Amory and the silver-blonde Dorothea Bunson.
This was actually the first time Martha had enjoyed his fucking talents, and she resolved finally to make the most of them this Sunday evening, but she would also let Carl Edwards know that a steady liaison between them would be equally welcome.
Now he rose in order to remove his slacks and sports shirt, but Martha, with a soft sensual giggle, reached forward, gripped him by the buttocks, bobbed her lovely head and took his prick head into her soft mouth, then began artfully and expertly to suck at it and to flick the lips of the meatus with her pert pink tongue.
Groaning with pleasure, Carl Edwards plunged his fingers into her thick pageboy, drawing it up tightly and towards him so as to keep her head bowed in this exquisite pose of feminine submission to the male. Thus it was also for him a visual treat as well as one of hedonistic sensation. Also, it was a challenge to withhold the bubbling spunk with which his balls were loaded and torture himself into seeing just how long he could withstand Martha's oral blandishments.
"You darling!" he hoarsely ejaculated, "shouldn't we go to the bedroom now, wouldn't it be more comfortable for you?"
But Martha raising her limpid hazel eyes towards him, made a slight shake of her head while at the same time continuing to suck at his cockhead to indicate to him that she was quite happy as she was. In gentlemanly fashion, wanting their first union to be a total success so as to encourage her to come back for seconds, Carl Edwards allowed her to give him plenty of head. His teeth were chattering from the onus of holding back his jism as the suctioning of her red lips continued to ply him with agonizing ecstasy.
For a moment she stopped and looked up at him, smiling provocatively, her eyes shining with desire. In some ways, he reminded her of her husband, but there was the enlightened difference that here at Danielson House instructors and instructresses-just as pupils with pupils-came together out of sheer pleasure and without emotional involvement. That was Madame Helga's cardinal rule, that fucking was to be enjoyed much as dining in a fine restaurant, and the more one knew about the subject and could appreciate the nuances, the more one's sexual hunger would be fully and savoringly satisfied. In that way, there could be no possible repressions, neuroses or frustrations. To be sure, she profited financially from these unique arrangements between the conspiring kinfolk of her pupils, but she prided herself on believing that coercion was never used and repugnance was always noted and eliminated through gentle and persuasive educational means. There was no reason why education should not take place in bed just as it did in the classroom, to her way of thinking.
"Elsie was right," Martha Tillotson murmured huskily, with a glint of amusement in her lovely eyes. "You really are quite a man and very gentle and thoughtful for all your size, Carl dear. I'm glad I lent her to you, because I wanted to thank you for treating her so nicely."
"Of course," he mused, "such a thing would be possible only at this remarkable school of Madame Helga's. If Elsie had had to have her hymen pierced by what you are now so flatteringly attending, my dear Martha, I fear her experiences might not have been quite so pleasing. But of course Dr. Fielding performed the necessary operation well before Elsie's transfiguration into happy womanhood."
"Quite so. Yes, I'm very glad Madame Helga found me ... as I suppose you must be too, my dear fellow," Martha laughed softly. "And now, let's just enjoy each other because I expect you'll be able to take care of me once I've taken care of you. I want to see just how long you can hold out. It will give me a better idea of your capabilities than even little Elsie's testimony."
So saying, she again bowed her head and went back to the sucking and licking of his cockhead. Once again Carl Edwards groaned and stiffened his muscles to hold back all his passionate yearnings to give vent to the torrent of spunk which was threatening at any instant to burst its bounds and gush into Martha's soft nectared warm mouth. Her fingers now began to knead his buttocks, and this massaging had a further erotic effect on the virile instructor. His prick throbbed and vibrated and Martha could feel it communicated to her lips and tongue-for now her tongue began very nimbly and quickly to stab at the tip of his prick. His organ stood out boldly from the opened fly of his slacks, the shaft solid and thick with dark veins knotting all along the tight thin skin as evidence of his Tantalus. He could feel his balls contract and strain in the furious will to spurt, and he clenched his fists and closed his eyes and ground his teeth together to remain steadfast and self-mastered against all her wiles.
Now, opening her mouth still more, she absorbed even more of his prick, and then began noisily to slush it with her tongue while she sucked at it at the same time. Her fingers continued an even more rapid massaging of his buttocks, until Carl
Edwards felt his eyeballs ache as well as his testicles in the savage goading of all his erotic senses under this magnificent Frenching which the dark brown-haired, bespectacled instructress was inflicting on him.
Suddenly her sharp little white teeth closed for a tiny instant against his shaft, and that undid him completely. With a roar of ecstasy, he felt himself explode, and Martha gagged, then hastily managed to swallow quickly and adjust herself to the somewhat unexpected ejaculation. He felt himself drained dry as her fingers relaxed now into a gentle squeezing of his behind, while she almost thirstily drank every drop of his abundant spending.
When she straightened, her hands caressing her stiff-nippled breasts, he gasped, "That was the best I ever had in ah my life, you wonderful darling! Now I've got to do you and give you just as much pleasure. Stretch out on the couch and let me pull that damn thing off you. I want to see you naked, Martha girl, all naked!"
With an acquiescent little laugh, Martha Tillotson reclined on the couch, while he bent to her and yanked off the loosened hostess gown. His eyes burned to see the thick, dark brown triangle of pussy hair at the apex of her beautifully rounded and not too short thighs. Her belly was smooth, widely and also deeply dimpled by the exquisite navel, a jewel in the tawny-sheened flesh. He knelt down and kissed there first, letting his tongue rasp along it until Martha squealed with delight and twisted her fingers in his hair. Then his tongue moved down towards the thick mossy fleece of her cunt, avoiding to the last moment contact with the fleshy pink lips of her quim until she began to arch and squirm herself in a wanton begging for that thrilling lingual friction against the most sensitive and secretive part of her being.
When at last his tongue brushed against the lips of her palpitating vulva, Martha Tillotson could wait no longer. "Oh please, get into me right away, I want to feel you inside of me, oh please, darling!" she panted. "Is it hard again yet? If it isn't, I'll suck it for you until it is ... oh please do me, give it to me!"
Happily, Carl Edwards' vitality had renewed itself swiftly at the sight of Martha Tillotson's mouthwatering nakedness and the wanton way in which she offered herself to him. It had not yet reached full erection, but as he crouched between her thighs and thrust the tip of his spear against the pouting lips of her cunthole, he felt himself stiffening already. Thrusting gently, he entered just past the lips and halted himself, already feeling the contractions of her love canal as a sign that she was more than ready to be fucked.
"Oh that's good, oh darling, you really are wonderful, just as Elsie says!" Martha raptly gasped. She had stretched her arms behind her head and her face uptilted to the ceiling, her breasts rising and falling in an erratic rhythm, while her buttocks squirmed and wriggled on the couch as the frantic need to be thoroughly fucked and reamed seethed within her.
Gradually, as he felt his manhood assert itself to exemplary vigor as before, Carl Edwards thrust home slowly until they were hairs to hairs. Supporting himself on his fists and knees, withholding himself from mounting her in unison as yet, he stared down at her, observing the contorted beauty of her lovely, flushed face, the heaving turbulence of her boobs, and the scrabbling of her soft fingers against the edge of the couch.
Then he drew himself up almost to the brink, and Martha groaned in the sweet torment of it. "Oh please, oh hurry, fuck me, oh my God, fuck me, Carl lover!"
He tantalized for now by holding himself back, letting her twist and arch, trying desperately to draw him back inside of her. Then he made several short little jabs inside, only to draw out almost to the edge again, while she whimpered and gasped as her passions mounted ferociously. Finally she reached her arms to him, with almost tears in her eyes begging him, "Oh please, oh darling, that's enough torture, fuck me good now, fuck me until I faint!"
With an exultant cry, Carl Edwards sank down upon her, and her legs clutched nimbly over his behind as her fingernails dug into his shoulders. Their mouths crushed together, and their tongues rapiered and parried, emulating the now rapid stroking of his prick inside her moist tight quaking cunt.
Susan Amory and Dorothea Bunson were also occupied this pleasant September Sunday evening, while Myra Castlebar contented herself with reading a book on education which she had brought along after having left the employ of Murray Bannister. Willowy, auburn-haired Susan, five feet seven and one half inches tall and endowed with a svelte and really tempting figure which boasted high-set, saucily rounded bottom cheeks and long, shapely thighs, was treating herself to an exuberant fucking by one of the seventeen-year-old pupils from Homer Grange's classes. It was Wally Corcoran, a tall, pleasant-faced blonde youth who had been initiated into manhood a year ago by Homer Grange, who had supervised Wally's first fucking with a pretty sixteen-year-old redhead (since departed from the school to return to her elderly roue of an uncle who had intended to make her his mistress just as soon as she could be taught how to enjoy pleasing a man).
Wally was in his shorts while Susan wore only a peach-colored slip and sandals as she lolled at her ease on a chaise lounge. Her hands clasped at the back of her neck in a classical attitude which arched out the wonderfully appetizing round globes of small but perfectly formed breasts. Susan eyed her young lover with a kind of taunting expectation.
"I've heard that you're quite some shakes as a lover, Wally, so let's see how you take care of a grownup woman tonight," she had told him at the outset. She had made him undress down to just his shorts, and comfortably stationed herself on the chaise lounge, and then nodded to him to get started.
Wally was not exactly a callow, masturbating virgin male any longer, his experience was not only with the cute redhead but also two other girls still enrolled in Danielson House having amply edified him on how to provide pleasure to an ardent pussy. He sensed that Susan was testing him and he knew also, thanks to the particular educational methods used by Madame Helga, that his performance this evening would be reported in detail back to her as well as to Homer Grange, who was his immediate disciplinarian and mentor.
First he drew off her pumps, and reverently began to kiss the arches of her shapely feet and then the toes, flicking his tongue at these dainty digits. Susan purred with pleasure and beamed at the conscientious youth. "That's very nice, dear," she encouraged him.
To reward him, she lifted one knee so the slip fell away, and when Wally looked up for an instant, he was enraptured to see the plump, hairy mound of Susan Amory's waiting cunt, the promised land of the treasure trove which was to be his ultimate boon for gratifying the mature instructress.
His hands began to stroke and caress Susan's pale white-sheened calves, slim and sinuous, and he observed, young though he was, that the pale white skin was garnished with exquisite rosy flecks, the true sign of a genuine redhead. He observed also what he had noted before with the redhead and the two other girls, that a woman's cunt-hair is invariably darker than the hair on her head. It was very true; Susan's auburn tresses, styled in a very fashionable upsweep, were burnished and lighter than the dark, brooding red of her cunt fleece.
His left hand was on her up-arched right knee, and his right hand glided under the slip along her smooth, long, lovely thigh. Susan playfully clenched her legs together to deny him pussy, and noticed with a soft little giggle of sensual excitement the disappointed look which at once crossed Wally's handsome face.
"You're doing fine, darling, just don't rush things. My goodness, I never thought a boy your age could be so gentle and attentive," she praised him. "Just think, if you hadn't come to this school you'd probably be wrestling with some poor girl in the back of a car trying to get your hand into her panties and afraid every minute the cops would break in on your unimaginative way of making out. Don't you agree it's much nicer to be taught how to make love so that both of you could enjoy things?"
"Oh yes, Miss Amory," Wally stammered, his voice choking in his rising sexual excitement. This was, after all, the first time he was about to fuck a mature female, and he also observed that Susan had a sharp wit and keen mind which his three younger mistresses could definitely not boast of. Thus he sensed he was far more on trial than he had ever been before.
Madame Helga, moreover, had a very simple rule that went hand in hand with her original maxim that the young should be taught how to enjoy sex without fear or shame or guilt. It was, simply, if either a boy or girl, once having been discovered to have definite sexual impulses, was either too hasty in the matter or unimaginative, he or she would be denied further sexual pleasure with attractive members of the opposite sex until such time as progress in outlook and spirit could be reported. And since Wally had already developed a deep appreciation for pussy, he had no desire to have Susan Amory report back to Madame Helga and Homer Grange that he was henceforth to be fed saltpeter in his food and would have to content himself with his right hand at night in lieu of just such a tempting piece of cunt as was now posed before him.
Therefore he conquered his disappointment and manfully went back to doing his best to please the fastidious and critical Susan. His fingers caressed her toes, his mouth returned to her feet and then to her ankles and calves, till she sighed and murmured with pleasure. Gradually, she relaxed the tension of her thighs, once again arching up her knees so the slip fell rather boldly away, this time to expose her delicious cunt. But this time Wally was not tempted to a rash conquest. He pursued his methodical path of kissing and stroking, by now having reached her knees, until, shifting forward on his own, he was up beside her and could very easily bend his head and attack the sleek, pale white-skinned, rosy-flecked stretch of naked thigh immediately before him, With his left hand stroking her right hip and his right hand beginning to caress the tender insides of her left thigh, he could tell from Susan's purring sighs and little excited gasps that he was at last on the right track to pussy. And soon he was rewarded as she almost impatiently tugged her slip up to her armpits, and panted, "Oh, you young devil, give it to me now, put it into me, give me all you've got!"
With a happy cry, Wally husked off his shorts, mounted Susan Amory, and this time she did not rebuke him for his brash vigor and impetuosity. With a gurgling sigh of bliss, she wrapped her long legs over his sinewy ass, flicked her tongue deep between his panting lips, and they began to fuck.
In her apartment, silver-blonde Dorothea Bun-son was also treating herself to young male ardor. Her choice had fallen on a fourteen-year-old boy from Carl Edwards' class, Roger Turnbull. He was quite tall, black-haired, with olive skin, and his high cheekbones and dark eyes suggested a heritage of the American Indian. However, his maternal grandmother had been an Italian, tall and dark exactly like himself. He had already been introduced to fucking three months earlier, being mated with an attractive fifteen-year-old brunette from Jennifer Addams' classes.
Dorothea, of all the instructresses, had definite sadistic bent, possibly because her wealthy parents had married her off at the age of eighteen to a man in his early forties who himself had been a sadistic voluptuary and whose favorite sport was tying Dorothea spread-eagled on the bed, blindfolding her, then using a hairbrush on her spacious, resilient behind until he was ready to fuck or brown her. She had escaped, gone to court to get a settlement from her unscrupulous husband, denounced her parents for their avarice and ruthlessness, and then gone to a European college to major in education. There she had discovered the joys of Lesbos, in a torrid affair with one of the instructresses.
When she returned to the United States, she became a tutoress to a family of three boys and two girls, and, since the family was in the charge of an elderly uncle who cared very little about his young kin, she was left free to experiment with them. Before she left the job two years later, she had slept with all five and educated them into an enthusiastic appreciation of lovemaking.
Now wearing knee-length white kid boots with high heels, shoulder-length gloves of the same material, she had Roger naked across her lap while she sat in an armchair, her left arm around his waist while her right hand flicked a slim black leather riding crop over his compact, smooth naked bottom cheeks.
Dorothea had observed that spanking excited not only her but also the victim. Already, after half a dozen flicks with the crop, she had begun to feel Roger's still and very vigorous young prick rubbing against her bare thigh.
"Do you think you can be a good boy and do everything I tell you to now?" she demanded as she raised the crop and brought it down with a somewhat more solid smack over both his huddling ass-cheeks.
"Oww, oh yes, Miss Bunson!" the youth sobbingly avowed.
"All right. Suppose we try you out then. Get off my lap, get down on your knees, and I'll tell you what to do next," she directed.
As soon as he obeyed, sniffing and trying to control his tears, she pointed to her pussy with the tip of the riding crop. "Now then, young man, put your hands on my tits and touch them very gently, then bow your head down and kiss my pussy," she commanded.
As he obeyed, Dorothea Bunson squirmed in her chair and closed her eyes with a beautiful expression on her perversely lovely face. Decidedly, there was nothing in the world like Madame Helga's school!
CHAPTER EIGHT
It was the following Friday afternoon, and Myra Castlebar was ending the very first week as teacher to the fourteen-year-olds in Madame Helga's boarding school. Her class of eight girls of that age were certainly ideal so far as communication was concerned, and yet it had been one of the most frustrating weeks of her teaching career. Even though from the very first day she had forced herself to be as gracious as she possibly could be, wanting to make a friend of each of her pupils, all of them without exception seemed hostile and diffident. Worst of these offenders was Melita Tarvish, a girl whom coppery-haired Jennifer Addams had already singled out to her. Melita was quite tall for her age, with black hair styled in a very prim oval-shaped bun at the back of her head and neatly combed away to accentuate her high-arching forehead. Her face was a cameo-like oval, with dainty uptilting nose, a full, sensual mouth, slantingly set cheekbones, and her dark brown eyes were surmounted by very thin penciled brows and extremely thick black eyelashes which had absolutely no need of mascara.
There was no doubt that the girl was exceptionally precocious as regards scholastic ability, judging from some of the answers she had volunteered during the oral examinations Myra Castlebar had given her young charges through these first five days. But her attitude in delivering these answers was one of disdainful insolence, as if it bored her to have to get up and recite at all and also as if she was under the impression that anyone in the world certainly knew the answers to the questions and hence there was no need for asking them at all. Half a dozen times, Myra felt herself irritated to the point of wanting not only to rebuke the saucy minx but also to slap her patrician face.
Throughout this first week, the beautiful black-haired instructress had had the feeling that all of her pupils were warily judging her and withholding their decision as to whether she was acceptable to them, which of course was an intolerable position for any teacher to be in. Madame Helga, in a glossy black satin dress which set off her stunning Amazonian figure to breathtaking degree, had deigned to visit the classroom on Thursday afternoon, and had taken a seat at the back of the room and remained for half an hour while Myra, extremely self-conscious, had directed her eight charges through a discussion of the geography of South America. When the directress had at last risen to leave and the pupils had turned about in respectful silence to eye her, she had remarked with a pleasant smile, "That's very good, Miss Castlebar. You know your subject very well and I'm sure the girls here are going to learn a great deal from you. By the way, I'd like to see you Friday just before dinner, in my apartment. All right, girls, now you may go back to work and be sure to obey your new teacher as you would me."
But even this last admonition had hardly sufficed to curb Melita Tarvish's studied arrogance. This Friday afternoon in the very last period, Myra Castlebar had asked for a show of hands to answer a question concerning the population and principal industries of Chile, and she had chosen Hetty Dickson, a pretty though somewhat insipid honey-haired girl, rather plump and given to silly giggles whenever she was called upon to recite. Hetty rose, giggled again and then with a simpering smile began to tell what she knew about Chile. Midway through this recital, however, Melita Tarvish rose to her feet and, waving her hand, haughtily announced, "Miss Castlebar, she's got it all wrong about the population. I know."
"I'm sure you do, Melita, but Hetty is reciting now. After she's finished I'll call on you to tell us what errors she made," Myra Castlebar pleasantly responded.
"But it's silly to let her make so many mistakes and waste our time like that," Melita impatiently persisted.
"That will do, Melita!" Myra Castlebar angrily retorted, her cheeks crimsoning with annoyance at the young girl's saucy and outspoken attitude.
The black-haired, olive-skinned teenager slumped back in her seat, and gave Myra a glowering look from under thick, long, curly lashes, while her sensually ripe, rosy mouth curled in an expression of sneering disdain. That grimace did not go unnoticed by the new instructress, and for the first time in her life Myra Castlebar really considered using physical force to reprove this insubordinate girl. Yet, realizing she was still on trial, she did not wish to have to resort to physical violence in order to achieve a rapport with her pupils. Of course she could not have comprehended as yet the sexual overtones which dominated all that went on in Madame Helga's boarding school.
But the period was still to have more incidents. Fifteen minutes later, while Myra was at the blackboard writing out some facts on the population of Bolivia, Argentina and Peru, she heard whispering. Turning swiftly around, she perceived Melita in the act of leaning across the aisle to whisper animatedly with a sulky-faced, plump girl who, just like Melita herself, seemed much older than her fourteen years, Adele Marlowe.
"That will do, girls! Please pay attention!" Myra exclaimed, again indignation and annoyance showing in the swift red glow in her ivory cheeks.
Melita tossed her head and again slumped back into her seat, giving Myra a spiteful look.
"Perhaps," the new instructress coldly went on, "you two would care to tell the rest of the class what is so important that you have to interrupt by whispering. Melita, and you, Adele, stand up!"
Both girls obeyed, Adele with a groan of resignation and also suggested the utmost insolence to authority. Melita looked at her friend and giggled.
"You find it amusing do you, Melita?" Myra Castlebar pursued. "Perhaps you think that because I'm new, you can get away with anything. I am sure all of you girls know what punishments are dealt out here."
"The other teachers spank, but we all are betting that you won't," was Melita's audacious retort.
"I see. If that's the case, I can always ask your original teacher, Miss Addams, to take over for me. Actually, I wouldn't want to give myself the bother of trying to spank you," Myra Castlebar angrily retorted.
"I'll bet you can't, that's why," was Melita's taunt. The other girls looked at her, partly in admiration and party in aghast amazement that she would thus defy authority.
Myra Castlebar drew a deep breath and controlled herself only with an effort. "I am going to talk not only to Miss Addams but to Madame Helga about this, young lady," she at last declared. "Then we shall see who has the last word."
And, indeed, a few minutes later when the bell rang for the final class and the girls hurried out of the room, Myra Castlebar walked down the hall and towards the office of the Amazonian directress. She knocked at the door, was told to come in, and stood before the honey-haired Amazon's desk.
"Good afternoon, Myra dear," Helga Danielson pleasantly welcomed her. "You seem annoyed at something. Do you have something to report to me?"
"I do indeed! There is a girl in my class who is the most insolent and badly behaved child I've ever known," Myra broke out. "It's Melita Tarvish. She interrupts recitation by saying that what we are doing is stupid, she argues, she defies, and she makes herself as unpleasant as she possibly can. She even challenged my authority to punish her, so I told her I would report her both to Miss Addams and to you."
"I see. But in such cases, my dear, you have authority to spank these girls-don't you understand that? I thought I made myself very clear last week before classes began."
"Yes ... yes, but ... if you want to know the truth, Miss Danielson, I ... I've never slapped or spanked a child in my life and ... I'm not that sort of disciplinarian," Myra pleaded, feeling very much ill at ease.
"Then it is high time you took a good look at your own character and decided to comply with our regulations, Myra. You will find it much easier on yourself. I dare say that Melita-with whom I am well acquainted by the way-is simply trying to test you. If she finds that she can get away with it, that will lead to a breakdown of all discipline and it will be very dangerous, because it can spread like wildfire in the school. An example must be made, but if we punish her for you, I can assure you she won't respect you at all. No, there is only one answer: you must spank Melita yourself. But I tell you what I will do, Myra, to lend you the weight of my authority I shall have the naughty girl sent for directly and you will spank her in my presence."
"But I really..." Myra faltered.
"You will obey me if you wish to keep your position," the directress coldly interrupted. Myra flushed hotly, like a child being rebuked by her teacher, and lowered her eyes. "That's better," Madame Helga smiled knowingly. "Sit down there, and I shall show you how one does these things."
With this, she picked up the phone and dialed the number of one of the two women who served as matrons for the institution. A moment later, after hanging up, she turned to Myra and declared, "Melita will be brought here directly, and then you are going to show me that you merit my confidence and trust as my newest instructress."
Myra blushed and twisted her fingers nervously in her lap, until at last a knock on the door announced the arrival of the delinquent teenager. After Madame Helga had called "Come in," the door was opened by the portly matron, who ushered Melita Tarvish ahead of her. The black-haired teenager was quite poised and nonchalant, and faced the directress with arms at her sides and a guileful smile on her face.
"Thank you, that will be all." Madame Helga dismissed the matron. Then, regarding the impertinent teenager, she coldly declared, "Melita, Miss Castlebar has complained about your behavior in class this afternoon. She has told me what you said, and apparently, because she is so new, you thought you could go unpunished by acting the way you did. You are here now in my office, and you know I keep my word when I say a girl is going to be punished, don't you?"
"Y-yes, ma'am," Melita murmured in a very low, uneasy voice.
"Well, you are going to be punished now and by your new teacher, in front of me, Melita. You may prepare yourself."
"Please, Madame Helga, won't you do it to me yourself?" Melita pleaded.
"Of course not, you impertinent little vixen! Be careful now, or I shall ask Miss Castlebar to give you an extra dose. Now then, obey me! Prepare yourself and then go to your new teacher, kneel down and ask her very humbly to give you a good sound spanking on your naked behind!" the honey-haired Amazon directed.
Melita blushed vividly, shot Myra a brooding and defiant glance, and then began to unfasten her skirt. Letting it fall to her ankles, she stepped out of it, stooped and neatly retrieved it, draping it over the back of straight-backed chair beside the directress' desk. This done, she took hold of the waistband of her white nylon panties and began to tug them down, half-turning so as to hide her pussy from Myra's astounded eyes. In this posture, which was utterly charming, the tall, lissome young girl revealed an astonishingly voluptuous development of thighs and bottom. The cheeks of her behind were broad ovals, tightly spaced so the shadowy groove between them was almost hidden. Her thighs were long and pleasing rounded, her calves high-set, and her skin an excitingly warm olive. There was a tiny little black mole just below the base of her left bottom cheek and to the left near the edge of the upper thigh, an exquisitely provocative decor on warm, young, naked flesh. And, as with all the girls who were obliged to disrobe for punishment or fucking, the contrast of the black silk hose and the old-fashioned elastic garters around which the tops were rolled, as against the vivid and unadorned beauty of satiny naked flesh was highly suggestive and lasciviously exciting.
Even Myra Castlebar could not help blushing with embarrassment both for herself and for Melita, as the latter, leaving her panties twisted around her knees, moved quickly towards the armchair in which Madame Helga had gestured for her to sit, and, standing at Myra's right, quickly mouthed the formula of submission: "Please, ma'am would you please give me a good spanking for having been naughty?"
Myra glanced up at the girl beside her, and blushed even more furiously than ever. The descent of those panties had left Melita's virgin pussy unveiled, and already there was a surprisingly profuse amount of crisp black silky curls framing the soft pink petals of that maiden cunny. She could also see Melita's smooth belly, with a wide shallow niche as a navel; and strangely enough, Myra's
Castlebar began to feel a curiously tingling sensation between her own tensing thighs.
"Go on, Myra, take her over your lap, spank her very smartly with your hand until her big bottom is nice and red and she is crying satisfactorily," Madame Helga encouraged. "Then, for her insolence to me-since any insolence to any of my teachers is the same as to me-she shall have twenty spanks with a ruler which I shall give you."
"Oh please no, ma'am!" Melita suddenly turned round to face the directress, her eyes wide with anguished appeal.
"That will do, young lady, unless you want me to double the count. Now take position over your teacher's lap and submit yourself humbly," Madame Helga sharply commanded.
Without further ado, the half-nude teenaged girl swiftly draped herself over the astonished young woman's lap, and Myra Castlebar stared numbly down at the upturned jouncy, tightly compact ovals of that enchanting naked ass, submitted to her for manual chastisement.
Helga Danielson frowned. "Very well, Myra, put your left arm around her waist and hold her tightly so the minx can't slip off your lap. And you had better put your right leg across her calves to hold her in position. Then spank her soundly and slowly, so she can feel every single spank. That is an order!"
Now it was Myra's turn to feel chagrined and sheepish, as if she, as well as the insubordinate teenager, were to be punished. But there was no help for it. Almost helplessly, she curved her left arm round the satiny, slim waist of the docilely submissive girl, put her right leg over Melita's calves, and then drew a deep breath as her eyes continued to contemplate the fascinatingly smooth, warm olive sheened contours of those delectable, resilient and now huddling ass-cheeks.
"Ask her if she is ready, Myra," Madame Helga commanded in an imperious tone.
Myra Castlebar dutifully repeated that question, and Melita, uttering a long sigh, murmured, "Yes, ma'am, I'm ready."
"Then begin!" the directress glared at Myra.
There was no help for it. Myra Castlebar raised her right hand, hovered it a moment, then brought it down on the girl's right bottom cheek near the summit.
"Good heavens," Madame Helga laughed and shook her head, "she hardly felt that at all. It must ring out like a pistol shot. A spanking is given to put heat into a naughty bottom like Melita's, so she will repent her naughtiness. I trust I shall not have to do it for you, Myra."
This veiled warning made Myra blush even more than ever, and almost angrily she tried to take out her anger on the girl who had brought her into such an embarrassing and distressing situation. Her hand rose and fell crisply, attacking the left bottom globe, and Melita evidently felt that, judging from her startled "Ouch!" and the way her face turned back, her eyes very wide and questioning.
"That's more like it, Myra. Continue in the same way until I tell you to stop," Madame Helga directed, settling back against the luxuriously upholstered couch and adjusting the clinging folds of her black satin gown which lined her sculptural beauty. She was wearing white calfskin boots which rose above her knees and disappeared under the clinging folds of the gown.
Myra bit her lips, and, reminding herself how she had been flouted by this insolent little upstart, applied a third spank and then a fourth. Each of them was more vehement than the last, and this time Melita Tarvish kicked and squirmed and again looked back, with a little more respect in her dark brown eyes, each time uttering a stifled gasp and clenching her little fists.
The strange sensation which had pervaded Myra's loins began to intensify. And she could also feel her heart beating more quickly as her eyes stared down at the olive-sheened ass globes, twitching and huddling, the muscles tensioning and contracting vividly under the smooth satiny skin. Where her hand had struck, the bright pink outlines of her palm deepened the vivid beauty of that naked bottom, and the curious, lascivious effect of this began to waken Myra Castlebar's latent sensuality, untutored virgin though she was.
"That's very good. Only not too fast, I want Melita to feel every spank and understand why she is getting it," Madame Helga directed.
But now, singularly enough, just as she had been opposed to the very idea of corporal punishment, Myra Castlebar found herself almost eager to humble and break this naughty and insolent girl's defiant spirit. She wanted Melita to cry, and she wanted to see those lovely, warm, olive hemispheres turn a burning red of torment and discomfort. And so, unconsciously tightening the grip of her left arm, she began to apply spank after spank, though because she was inexperienced she did not alternate on the quaking bare globes or choose any pattern of punishment.
Nevertheless, Melita no longer seemed to be so contemptuous of the new teacher. Her eyes were very wide and filmed with tears now, and from time to time she glanced feverishly back, especially after a particularly hard spank which flattened the summit or the base of a luscious ass-cheek. Her gasps and groans grew louder, also, but most of all the nervous squirming and wriggling of her bare hips and loins pronounced her growing discomfort.
The honey-haired dominatress watched Myra Castlebar with half-lidded eyes, crossing her elegant long legs, and lit a cigarette. She, more than Myra, was aware what was taking place in the black-haired instructress' psyche. And when she saw Myra's lips part and moisten, saw the dilation of the young woman's delicate nostril wings, saw the increased movements of Myra's boobs, she knew this scene she had so carefully staged was having exactly the effect she had calculated: that of attuning this virgin instructress to the awareness of her own pussy's long-overdue needs.
From about the fifteenth spank on, she had had no need to counsel Myra on the procedure of subjugating a naughty, precocious teenager. Watching carefully, she observed Myra's hand rising and falling, more quickly now, and with vigorous emphasis against the now bright crimson-splotched cheeks of Melita Tarvish's upturned, squirming and swerving naked bottom!
"Oww ... oh please ... that hurts. I'm sorry ... ooh, owwww, I'll be good ... please, Miss Castlebar! I didn't mean to be rude ... oww ... boo hoo, please, not so hard ... oh please let up, please!" Melita began to blubber, and at last plunged one hand behind her in a frantic attempt to cover up her smarting ass.
"Take your hand away at once, you naughty little wretch," Madame Helga scolded. "Now then, Myra, I'm going to give you a ruler. Twenty good hard spanks. You will find that if you concentrate on the lower part of that minx's bottom, you will really make her sorry that she treated you so abusively in class. That is the tenderest part of a girl's behind, as you will find with a little more experience."
So saying, she rose from the couch, moved to a desk, opened the drawer and took out a flat foot-long ruler which she brought over to Myra, who accepted it almost mechanically and without the least hesitation. A crafty smile on the dominatress' lips indicated that she took full notice of Myra's transfiguration.
"Oh please, not the ruler now, it's so sore, it burns, it hurts, I'll be good," Melita pleaded.
But Madame Helga herself bent down and captured both Melita's wrists and held them tightly in her slim hands, then nodded to Myra. Once again readjusting and tightening the grip of her left arm around the culprit's waist, the black-haired instructress raised the ruler and brought it down with an energetic smack which bridged both ass-cheeks at the upper summits, just where the shadowy narrow groove began. A shrill squeal broke from Melita, who jerked and arched her body frantically.
"I will count for you, Myra," Madame Helga purred. "That's very good now, at last you've learned!"
When at last the twentieth spank had fallen on Melita's quaking and now flaming hindquarters, the black-haired teenager was dissolved in tears, sobbing without restraint and moving about with abandon as much as her captors' hold on her allowed.
"Get up now, and kneel down and thank Miss Castlebar for punishing you so well," the directress ordered.
Sobbing plaintively, Melita damned both hands to her flaming bottom, stumbled to her feet, then sank down and bowed her head and sobbed out the formula of penitence: "I ... I'm awfully sorry I was so naughty ... and ... and ... thank you for punishing me so good. I won't do it again," she groaned.
"Very good, Myra. You see how easy it is, after all? I don't think you'll have any more trouble in class from this one. Will she, Melita?" Madame Helga leaned down to pinch the girl's earlobe.
"Oh no, oww, Madame Helga, I'll be so good, I won't ever be naughty again, honest!" Melita wailed.
"You may go now, my dear," the directress said gently to the flushed and trembling young instructress. "I have something to say to Melita myself which I think will help you in the future. And I'm pleased to see how you took my advice, Myra. You are doing very well, and I think you have a real future at Danielson House."
"Th-thank you," Myra Castlebar faintly stammered. She rose, finding it difficult, and her body was trembling uncontrollably. She glanced almost compassionately and apologetically at the still kneeling girl, and then blurted, "I'm sorry I had to punish you so hard, Melita. Please be a good girl so I won't have to do it again." Then, aware that she had said too much, she nodded to the directress and hurried out of the room.
Madame Helga went directly to the door and bolted it. Then she approached the still throbbing and kneeling culprit, bent down and gently stroked Melita's lovely head.
"You adorable little actress, you did exactly what I wanted you to," she murmured. "For a moment there I thought I was going to have to spank you myself. But as I had hoped, dear Myra was angry with you, and once she saw that beautiful bottom of yours, she couldn't resist it, any more than I can."
Melita flung her arms around Madame Helga's thighs and pressed her scarlet, tear-stained face against the dominatress' knees. "Oh, I love you so, Madame Helga, I'd do anything for you! But she did spank awful hard; it stings, it really does!"
"I know it does, dear, and of course you deserved it. It would never do to have to admit to Myra would it, that you purposely got up in class and made all that fuss? Then she might ask questions and she might find out I put you up to it. So you had to be a martyr, but you did it beautifully. And you shall have your reward, darling. You've always wanted to be fucked, and I'm choosing a nice boy from Mr. Grange's class. I'll have the two of you together in the testing room tonight, when it's time for bed. One of the matrons will bring you down there. And now I want you to go to Dr. Fielding's office to have a little operation so you won't have any pain at all when that nice boy puts his big stiff cock into your sweet little pussy, darling."
"Oooh, Madame Helga, will you really? Are you really going to let me get fucked, honest?" Melita raised her starry eyes to the sensual face of the beautiful lady who bent down towards her and, cupping the girl's hot, wet cheeks with her soft hands, kissed Melita passionately on the mouth, darted in her tongue, and then urged the girl to rise to her feet.
Now her hands cuddled and soothed the flaming bottom, while Melita moaned and gasped with delight as she clung to her beloved dominatress. Then gradually Madame Helga led the girl, whispering to her to step out of her panties, over to the couch. Then, hoisting the long black satin gown, she exposed herself naked above her boots.
Stretching out indolently, she beckoned to the teenager, who with a little cry of joy, clambered onto the couch, bent her head between those stately thighs, and began to suck and kiss Madame Helga's cunt.
A few minutes later, the cooing and gasping young girl was ordered to move about so her own tender pussy was proffered to the knowing lips and tongue of the dominatress, and thus the two performed an exquisite act of sixty-nine, which brought both conspiring pupil and directress to a moaning and feverish girl come.
That same evening, at about ten o'clock, wearing a blue bathrobe and sandals, the charming black-haired Melita was ushered into the testing room by Homer Grange, along with the seventeen-year-old brown-haired Ken Durksen.
Under his genial and easy going direction, both blushing initiatees stripped totally naked, and then Homer Grange had Melita lie down on the rubber sheets, which covered the floor, while Ken knelt between her long slim legs and began to fondle and kiss her titties.
Melita, her eyes huge with excitement, listening to the expert counsel of Ken's male instructor, arched herself obediently as the boy adjusted his prick against her tender quim. Of her own account, she reached down one of her slim hands to take hold of his cock while with the other, at Homer Grange's order, she opened the lips of her pussy.
"Very gently now, Ken," Homer Grange eagerly advised, kneeling down and watching with blazing eyes.
"Ooh, it's so big, it won't go all the way in, I know it won't!" Melita squealed.
"Oh yes it will, dear, just take it easy. Ken, that's a tender young virgin pussy you're working on and don't forget it," Homer Grange chuckled.
Both Melita and Ken had first to anoint themselves with the oil from the urn, and their slippery naked bodies squished salaciously as Ken now edged himself slowly inch by inch into Melita's tight young cunthole.
With a squeal of delight, the naked young girl locked her bare legs over his thighs, and clawed at him while she kissed him feverishly.
Then they began to fuck, and the precocious young black-haired girl soon began out of nature's instinct to arch and swirl her hips in perfect timing to his fucking rhythm.
Of course Ken achieved orgasm long before Melita, but Homer Grange was there to make certain that the female partner had as much pleasure as the male. Thus at his order the sheepish Ken was obliged to frig Melita's dainty clit and then lick it with his tongue till at last Melita achieved a frantic spend and wailed in her delight as she flailed her long, lovely, naked legs in the air and then sprawled on the rubber sheets, a beatific smile on her lovely pert face testifying to the bliss she had earned for her conspiracy with Madame Helga in the plot to undermine virtuous Myra Castlebar's chastity.
CHAPTER NINE
On this night, which ended her first week as the newest instructress at Danielson House, Myra Castlebar once again had difficulty falling asleep. The night was cool, she had had an excellent dinner in the refectory, and Susan Amory and Martha Tillotson had come over to her table to exchange pleasant remarks and to congratulate her on her first week in her new post. By all odds, with Madame Helga's praise still rinsing in her ears after having chastised Melita Tarvish before the Amazonian dominatress, she should have been quite content with her achievements in this new job, which had come about so singularly after her unfortunate experience with Murray Bannister.
And yet the fact remained; she absolutely could not fall asleep, try as she would. Half a dozen times she shifted positions, from lying on her back to rolling onto first her right and then her left side, and each time she sat up with exasperation to find that the release of sleep would not claim her.
Finally she got out of bed and went over to the writing desk and seated herself, reached in the darkness for the little lacquered box in which she kept her cigarettes, took one and groped for the pack of matches beside it. Then, lighting the cigarette, she leaned back in the hard, straight-backed chair and thought of what she had done and what she had seen and how curiously it had affected her.
She puffed nervously at the cigarette, and then abruptly rose and went into the bathroom, flicking on the light switch. Perhaps a glass of cold water from the faucet would help. She stared in the mirror of the medicine cabinet, and her dark blue eyes intently studied her own reflection. There was a pallor to her face which seemed to make her glossy black hair even more lustrous. Why did she feel so strange? Why should it trouble her to have had her revenge on that nasty little brat, who had purposely tried to make a fool of her in class this afternoon? She had been the very one who had declared that she could never bring herself to strike a child; and yet, after her initial hesitation when Melita had draped herself over her lap with her panties down about her knees, she had actually begun to enjoy the characteristically sharp, crisp smacks of her hand on the girl's bare bottom ... and even more, the noisier and more dramatic strokes inflicted with the flat Wooden ruler Madame Helga had handed her.
Actually, after having applied those twenty last spanks, she had almost been disappointed that the punishment had been over, that she couldn't go on making that little hussy cry and beg for mercy. What was happening to her? The last two years, she had struggled so hard to make a good academic showing, forsaking the material world and the pleasures of the flesh for the more serious and purposeful goal of using her mind to help the young assimilate knowledge they could put to use as good citizens when they grew up. And yet in a single week, the most satisfactory thing that had happened to her in this new and strange school was having taken Melita Tarvish over her lap and made that saucy bottom of hers good and red and hot!
Myra was wearing blue cotton pajamas, with short sleeves and open throat. Again she stared in the mirror, and blushed because she saw she was looking at her bosom. Suddenly it seemed to her that she was conscious of her body in a way she had never been before. It must have been because of Melita's nakedness, realizing that she was a female with intimate flesh just such as that nasty little girl had had to expose for the spanking.
Her closeness to the mirror made her boobs seem even more lush and melon-like as the thin blue cotton fabric of the pajama tops clung lovingly to them, following each rhythmic breath with exquisite fidelity. Wonderingly, she lifted a hand and touched one of her boobs, and at once a prickling sensation surged through the sensitive nipple. A vivid blush suffused her cheeks and, with almost an impatient gesture, she opened the door of the medicine cabinet to take out the water glass.
As she reached for it, she saw a curious white plastic object lying beside it-something that certainly hadn't been there before. She had brought most of her own things from Murray Bannister's house when she had left him in such indignation, after discovering his vile and contemptible attempts to have sex with his own sweet niece. But this was absolutely something that didn't belong here-what was it, anyhow?
She reached for it, took it out and examined it. It was shaped like a male prick, and by some accident she touched the spring setting off the batteries ... for it was nothing more nor less than a hand-operated vibrator. The soft whirring sound made her eyebrows arch, and out of some inexplicable impulse, she touched the point of the phallic-like implement to the nipple of her left boob. The sensation which followed was devastating!
With a gasp, her cheeks turning redder than before, she glanced down at herself, and moved the vibrator here and there over the sensitive bud. A thousand little fingers seemed to tickle and caress the stiffening nugget of her lovebud, and a voluptuous shiver rippled through her svelte young body.
She moved the vibrator away, again staring in the mirror. Then she closed her eyes and the scene in Madame Helga's apartment came back to her. The saucy, tall, very pretty, black-haired girl undressing, her face sulky and clouded, and yet submissive. The humiliating removal of her panties and then the even more humiliating act of having to ask for her spanking. The positioning of the girl's body over her lap, and the feel of her arm circling the supple warm olive-sheened waist. And then, the most exquisite sensation of all, new and startling in its overtones-the impact of her palm against Melita's upturned, naked, resilient bottom cheeks.
Melita's movements during the spanking had been satisfying, indeed, and yet now that she thought about them, she realized they had been connected with the warmth and quivering pulsations in her own loins. Oh, why do I have to keep on thinking of all this?
And then, hardly realizing what she was doing, Myra Castlebar had unfastened the little tie-cord of her pajama bottoms and let them slip down to her knees, while with her right hand she moved the vibrator towards the thick black triangle of her cunt fleece. Groping with her forefinger, she found once again the secretive spring which set the vibrator into operation, and then she felt the throbbing tip, that simulacrum of the male penis, tingle and vibrate against the mound of her virgin core
"Ohhh ... ahhhh ... oh my God!" she ejaculated in a husky, strangled voice. She closed her eyes, she could not bear to stare at herself in the mirror. Moving her hand away, she felt her thighs tremble and shake, felt a molten heat rising along their columns, almost as if all her strength was being removed and she could no longer stand. And then, closing her eyes as tightly as she could, she moved the vibrator back against her cunt and let it do its work over the twitching lips which had already begun to pout and to moisten slightly, indicating the secret tumescence wakening and stirring within her most secret self. As she did so, the pictures of Melita's spanking, of Melita's obeisance and humility, came back into her mind as part of a wanton and lustful phantasmagoria she was powerless to disperse. Once again it seemed to her that she could see Melita's upturned, tightly set bottom ovals jerking and twitching and contracting under the Spat-Spat-Spat-Spat of the wooden ruler, flexible and stinging and welding to the jouncy curves of that beautiful young bottom. Once again she could hear the girl's cries and squeals, hear her tears and stammered pleas for mercy.
And then, when Melita had knelt down to thank her sobbingly for the punishment, she knew she had stared covertly at the girl's surprisingly hairy cleft, that nest of sweet young adolescent virginity which reminded her of her own, since both of them were black-haired.
The vibrator now found the tiny cowl of pussy flesh above the pouting, moistening lips. It touched the secret button of Myra Castlebar's emotions, that lodestone, her clitoris. With a sobbing groan, she staggered back until she could feel the cold porcelain wall against her bare behind, and then, covering her face with her left arm, she let the vibrator wander at will all over her cunt until a sudden spasm took possession of her ... until she slumped down on her knees, the vibrator falling with a clatter to the floor, as wave upon wave of shattering, annihilating lust fever washed over her and with it came the sweet feeling of oblivion bringing deep, restful and oh so vitally needed sleep.
The honey-haired Amazon leaned back in her swivel chair and smiled at the stocky brown-haired man standing before her in her office this cool September Sunday afternoon. "I think I can honestly tell you, Mr. Bannister," she said, choosing her words carefully, "that I have made considerable progress in getting my newest instructress to understand a little more of the world than when she came here. And of course as we both know, your rather startling tactics regarding Carol apparently so horrified her that she was willing to accept my offer with no investigation whatsoever-which is quite fortunate for you particularly."
"I understand that. The idea came to me when I saw what a silly little prude she was, Madame Helga," he retorted with a sheepish grin.
"I commend you for your quick thinking. And actually for your purpose, there is no better place than Danielson House for a young woman of Myra Castlebar's background, obvious sensitivity and refinement and total inexperience in sex to begin to become a woman. I must confess I myself am drawn to her, but knowing how you feel about her, I have told everyone on my staff she is not to be approached."
"But you did let her see what sort of discipline you maintain at this school, I assume?"
"Oh yes." The dominatress deftly fitted a cigarette into a long ivory holder, lit it with studied poise, and then regarded the industrialist. "Not only that, Mr. Bannister, she actually punished one of the pupils herself ... thou eh it required a little coaching and almost a veiled threat of being discharged or worse."
"Very good indeed! How did she take it?"
"When we had our staff meeting just before she started last Monday, Mr. Bannister, Myra was quite outspoken against what she called the barbaric custom of using corporal punishment for naughty pupils. But I watched her carefully while she spanked a pretty little minx who, needless to say, had been promised a little bonus if she showed herself to be a good actress. And towards the end of it, I may safely say that Myra Castlebar was becoming sexually excited bv the sight of that charming bare seat as it reddened under her pretty hand and then the ruler which I handed her."
"Capital!"
"Besides that," the dominatress continued, "I saw to it that a vibrator dildo was placed in the medicine cabinet of her bathroom. My belief was that when she went back to her apartment, she would be emotionally troubled by what she had been made to do against all her prior beliefs and her prudish disinclination towards any sexual manifestation whatsoever. I'm willing to wager she used that little instrument to relieve the, shall we say, physical tensions which spanking Melita must have caused her."
"But this is better than I had hoped for, Madame Helga!" he laughed.
"As I understand it, your charming niece is going to begin the term with us tomorrow."
"Yes, that's quite right. She's outside now."
"Do have her come in. Do you wish to use her in the little scheme we have of turning Myra into your sweetheart?"
"Eventually, that would be wonderful. But it needn't necessarily be Carol. What I thought was, if she could be led more and more to see some of these disciplinary scenes and then finally a little lovemaking, she would be at the point where even against her better judgment she might be physically stimulated and maybe even out of curiosity to have a little fun with one of the girls herself. Then of course this could be discovered, you would call her into your office and scold her for her lewdness and wickedness, and see to it she was condemned to punishment. When that occurs, I myself should like to administer it."
"I follow you more clearly than you think, Mr. Bannister," Helga Danielson laughed softly. "That is a classical form of entrapment, and I believe it has occurred many times not only in fiction but in real life in the private English boarding schools where very diffident and haughty young ladies whose conduct was so exemplary they were never punished were led into sinfulness just so that their virginal bottoms could be exposed for a sound spanking with sex to follow."
"Precisely. You're an amazing woman, Madame Helga. You know, if I weren't so crazy about Myra, I'd be extremely interested in you."
"That's flattering, Mr. Bannister, and I will admit I am very grateful for your financial support of my school. But you are not exactly my type. First of all, I am not masochist enough to want to be your mistress, because I like to direct and dominate, not obey and serve. No, I'm quite content with the school as it is. But I do owe you this favor for your support, and this is why it amuses me to help you with your defiant virgin spinster, if we may call her that."
"As I said, you're an amazing woman. Now I'll send Carol in."
"Would I be indiscreet if I asked whether you had accomplished your purpose once Myra left your house?" the directress asked with a wicked glint in her eyes.
"You may assume that," Murray Bannister looked self-conscious and flushed hotly as he coughed and then cleared his throat. Then, going to the door, he opened it and beckoned to his blonde niece, who came forward at once and smilingly went towards the directress.
"What a charming, lovely girl! Carol, my dear, you will be in Martha Tillotson's class. I'll have Mrs. Glover show you to your room directly, and dinner will be served in the refectory at six tonight." So saying, Madame Helga pressed a buzzer and the matron soon entered, then Carol, after kissing her uncle goodbye, went off with the portly woman.
The honey-haired Amazon, wearing her usual clinging black satin gown and on this occasion spike-heeled, knee-length, black leather boots, rose from her desk and came towards the industrialist. "I take it that since you are here, you would like to see something diverting," she said whimsically.
"Nothing would please me more, Madame Helga," the hoarseness of his voice betrayed his rising excitement.
"Well, come along then. I'll let you watch the initiation of one of our oldest girls, all of twenty, with an eighteen-year-old boy whose sophisticated and very wealthy aunt intends to make him her lover by the time he is graduated from my school."
"That will be interesting. But you wouldn't happen to have a spanking I could watch?" Murray Bannister hopefully and eagerly asked.
"Let me see ... yes, I do believe I could offer you that amusement also after the testing room. Susan Amory, you know, our tall auburn-haired instructress who has the girls of seventeen and eighteen, has had in her black books for a week or two now a certain young lady who thinks herself immune from punishment, but who was caught just the other night stealing into the bedroom of a fifteen-year-old girl. That latter naughty young lady has already been soundly spanked by Jennifer Addams, but Prudence-you will agree it is a most appropriate name-still thinks she got away with her little nocturnal rendezvous. She was forgetting my closed circuit television system."
"Oh yes! How I envy you that, Madame Helga!"
Murray Bannister chuckled with an admiring shake of his head.
"With the system, I can look in on Myra or any one of my other teachers and of course all of the pupils," the dominatress continued. "By the way, you might tell me whether you would like to have Carol find herself a boy or a girlfriend at the school."
"A girlfriend I shouldn't mind. But I'd just as soon she remains faithful to me, if you understand what I mean," he chuckled.
"I do, perfectly. Come along then." the honey-haired Amazon smiled and winked at him, "in that case I'll make Carol my own special charge."
"She couldn't get better training from anyone else, I know that. And I think you could teach her a good deal, Madame Helga," the industrialist enthusiastically agreed.
The two went down towards the testing room and Dr. Penelope Fielding's office, and the directress unlocked the door of a room directly to the right of the famous testing room. Inside was a long wide couch up against the wall connecting with the testing room. She moved to it, seated herself and reached towards the wall and touched an ingeniously camouflaged button. At once a panel swung back upon itself, and the delighted industrialist gasped with pleasure as he saw a wide, rectangular, one-way glass section revealed.
"It's like the Sphinx in Paris or the Lust Garten in Hamburg," he exclaimed.
"Just so," Madame Helga nodded. "Well, I shall leave you now, and when you have finished, come back to my office and meanwhile I will inform Susan that she is to proceed with Prudence just as soon as I learn that you are ready to watch that diverting little episode."
Murray Bannister seated himself on the low wide couch and found he had an excellent view through the one-way glass panel directly into the testing room. Then he noticed just below the panel there was a brass switch. Out of curiosity, he touched it, and discovered he had turned on the intercom audio which enabled those in ,this voyeurs' room to hear as well as see what took place in the chamber where the pupils of Madame Helga's boarding school were initiated into the tender mysteries of fucking.
Once more, Homer Grange was in charge of the initiation, and Murray Bannister's eyes widened with interest as he watched the instructor usher in a superbly beautiful chestnut-haired young woman and a tall, bespectacled youth with wavy brown hair and the face of an intellectual, his blue eyes myopic behind the glasses and his entire attitude one of extreme shyness.
"Now then, Brandon," Homer Grange affably encouraged the youth, "there's nothing to be afraid of. After all, Maxine here has been looking forward to her first lover, haven't you, my dear?"
The chestnut-haired beauty thus addressed as Maxine nodded, gave the youth a quick look and then blushed as she lowered her eyes. She was about five feet six inches in height, with an extremely slim waist set into bold relief-thanks to the clinging black skirt and the white blouse-the breathtaking amplitude of a spaciously rounded bottom whose plump, high-set cheeks were widely and deeply furrowed, as might be seen when she moved about with the skirt clinging suggestively to her posterior contours. Her bosom, by comparison, was small, yet in no way meager: the two globes were widely spaced and high-perched, gently rounded. Her face was heart-shaped, her hair was styled in a helmet coiffure to frame its loveliness and arch demureness, and her mouth was ripe and generously full, her nose straight with delicately thin, flaring wings. Her hazel eyes were closely set together, her eyebrows thick and unplucked as well as unpenciled.
"Now then, Brandon," Homer Grange went on, "take off all your clothes and then go over to that urn, put your hands in it and rub the oil all over yourself. Everywhere, young man."
"In ... in front of herT' the youth incredulously gasped, his face turning brick red.
"Of course in front of her. When you finish, she'll undress in turn. You don't imagine the two of you are going to make love with your clothes on, do you, Brandon? Whatever would your Aunt Delcy say to that?" the male instructor teased.
Since Brandon Delroy's aunt had already told him before entering him in this unique school that she wanted him to forget his studiousness and love for his own company and his books and hobbies of chess and poetry, Brandon Delroy was not entirely in the dark as to his aunt's incestuous intentions. She, a stunningly handsome woman of forty-one, her black hair cut in a mannish do, with a spectacular figure that boasted youthfully jutting pear-shaped boobs and an oval-cheeked bottom whose undulations caused many a man to experience a hard-on whenever she walked a public street in New York, had never married, but she had had many lovers. When Brandon's parents had died from the flu two years ago, she had taken charge of the introspective youth, and the idea of turning him into a capable male stud had piqued her sensual interests. As soon as she had discovered he had absolute interest in his own sex-which she had feared at the outset-she had hastily enrolled him at Danielson House and paid Madame Helga a handsome bonus to make certain that by the time he was "graduated," he would be able to satisfy the burning urges of her tight warm cunt.
As for Maxine Torrance, she had retained her virginity until just three days ago, when Dr. Penelope Fielding had removed the hymen with her scalpel. Her mother and father had often punished her for dating boys for which they had no use and for having caught her on occasion necking and petting with them. Then her father had divorced her mother in order to marry his secretary. The mother remarried three years ago, and Maxine's stepfather, who was a swinger, had secret designs on his own stepdaughter. When Maxine's mother had divorced him just six months ago, he had happily for himself discovered she had been seeing a lover in secret assignations. He had thus persuaded her to relinquish custody of luscious Maxine in return for not contesting the divorce. And then, as soon as it was practicable, he had enrolled his stepdaughter under the auspices of the honey-haired Amazon with the expressed intention of acquainting her with passion so in due time he might make her his bed bitch and very possibly even his replacement wife.
Brandon turned his back on the demure beauty and self-consciously began to undress, sometimes nervously glancing back over his shoulder to make certain she wasn't looking, while Homer Grange impatiently urged him on. When at last he was naked and had begun to rub the oil into his wiry young body, which was hairless, Homer Grange observed that nature had already had its proper effect: the youth's nudity and the presence of the desirable chestnut-haired Maxine had conspired to give him a formidable erection.
"There now, you see, Brandon?" Homer Grange joked, "it's going to be nicer than you think. Besides, you're already showing yourself to be quite the man, and I'm sure Maxine will have no reason to complain of you. Now then, my dear, if you'll just undress and if you wish, I can rub the oil into you."
"Oh no, Mr. Grange," Maxine hastily gasped, backing up a little and regarding him with widened eyes, "I ... I can do that myself. Please ... do you ... do you have to be here and watch us?"
"I'm afraid I do, my dear. Madame Helga's orders, you see. But don't worry, just think of me as a sort of clinical advisor."
Maxine bit her under lip and then began to unbutton her blouse. The naked youth sat down on the edge of the couch and put both hands over his throbbing prick, his eyes huge behind his glasses as he saw Maxine's delicious figure begin to appear unadorned. Her skirt had followed, then her bra, and now she was stooping so her gently rounded tits dangled temptingly like fruits from the vine of passion, as she pulled down the panties and stepped out of them.
"That's very good, my dear, leave the stockings and shoes on. Now if you'll oil yourself, I think we're all ready," Homer Grange genially suggested.
Murray Bannister felt his prick throbbing with excitement. He lit a cigar, and pretended it was Myra Castlebar in the testing room, stripping naked before him and perhaps with Madame Helga standing there to supervise, riding crop or martinet or a good flexible birch rod in hand. Lewd visions leaped into his brain now as he foresaw Myra in his house as his mistress and slavegirl, with his cute niece aiding him to complete Myra's subjugation. It would be a delicious three-way arrangement, a virtual harem of two mouthwatering pieces of pussy. And what amused him most was that young Carol was already an adept bed bitch, while mature Myra would be as self-conscious and embarrassed as the shyest virgin of Carol's own age despite the ten year difference.
When he saw Maxine naked except for the black silk hose and high-heeled pumps, he yanked down his zipper to free his aching, swollen prick and gently cuddled it with his palm. He envied that young bastard in there, and he would have given a good deal to have replaced Brandon Delroy at this very moment. Maxine had a devastating figure, and even more temptingly possessed a milky skin whose only blemish was in the form of an adorable oval-shaped brown birthmark just below her right hip along the outer edge. Her navel was shallow and wide, and the extremely thick fleece of dark brown hair which covered her cunthole began at the lower abdomen and gussetted her between the legs towards the anal cleft. There were also curly sprigs of private hair in her soft armpits.
He watched her greedily as she hastily rubbed the oil over her tits and bottom and upper thighs and belly, and he also saw Homer Grange's prick straining at its moorings while the instructor prepared to bring the two young people together in this "scientific" initiation of boy fucks girl, Danielson House style.
"Ah right, Maxine dear, now go over to the couch and sit down beside Brandon. Both of you, don't be in any hurry about this. You'll find that instinct is a good guide in such matters. Brandon, put your arm around her and kiss her, tell her how lovely she is-for she certainly is very, very lovely-and make her feel how grateful you are. Then we'll go on from there," Homer explained.
The naked girl moved docilely to the couch and sat beside the nervous, naked youth, who gasped and blushed. Then he very gingerly put his arm around her bare dimpled shoulders, and attempted a hesitant and almost apologetic kiss on her cheek.
"You don't have to be quite so tender, Brandon boy," Homer Grange sarcastically drawled.
Brandon, however, kept his other hand feverishly tight over his prick as if to hide it for fear of offending the naked virgin beside him. Homer Grange soon had a word about that, and with a gasp the youth finally grasped Maxine by her upper arms and kissed her frantically on the mouth. In turn, the young woman circled his neck with her arms and returned his kiss. His own shyness and the fact that he was not rough or prepossessing had done much to allay her instinctive virginal defenses. Moreover, if truth be told, Maxine was not entirely unaware of her stepfather's more than casual interest in her, and had entertained some secret girlish dreams about being fucked by him when she was alone in her bed at night. Her forefinger had acted as proxy for his mature prick. And so it was on this Sunday afternoon that she was really eager to be fucked to learn what it would be like and to conjecture what the difference would be when her handsome stepfather finally got her into bed.
A few moments later, again at Homer Grange's order, Maxine stretched herself out on the couch and the youth crouched beside her, his hands caressing her tits as his mouth merged with hers. By now, his own inhibitions had been dispersed, and Homer Grange had to caution him not to fling himself down on Maxine and rape her without proper preparation.
Murray Bannister, his breath quick and erratic, squeezing his prickhead savagely between thumb and forefinger to hold back the bubbling jet threatening to burst at any moment, followed this entire scene with absorbed delight. He swore under his breath as he saw the youth, again obedient to the instructor's suggestions, kneel between Maxine's thighs, his trembling hands gently pressing them apart so he could put his mouth to her cunt and kiss and lick and suck it tenderly. Soon the naked young woman began to groan and squirm, her head tilting back, then turning from side to side, her finger scrabbling at the couch as her body shuddered with this awakening of lust.
"All right, I think she's ready by now. Go into her gently, remember it's still tight, she's a virgin, boy," Homer Grange's voice was hoarse with his own lust now.
With a cry of joy, Brandon Delroy obeyed. He fumbled at the dainty aperture, hidden by the thick pussy curls, but now surprisingly and deliciously Maxine herself came to his aid by putting her soft fingers to her pussylips and drawing them apart to grant him access. As he sank into her, she uttered a squeal of delight, grabbed him by the earlobes, pulled his face down to hers and kissed him passionately while she arched up to receive the savage impetus of his first thrust as an edified young male.
Half an hour later, as Murray Bannister was sitting back on the couch with his eyes closed and reliving the scene he had just witnessed and heard, there was a gentle knock, at the door. He straightened, rose to his feet, hastily tugged up his zipper, and called, "Come in."
Madame Helga appeared, accompanied by a blushing and very provocative slim light brown-haired girl. "Mr. Bannister, this is Jane Starr. She's nineteen and one of Miss Bunson's best girls. As it happens, she was to be initiated today by one of Mr. Grange's boys, but unfortunately he came down with a very bad cold. I wonder if you would be kind enough to act as replacement? I'm sure that with your experience you can make Jane very happy you are replacing him."
"My God ... of course ... I never thought ... but she's beautiful!" Murray Bannister hoarsely gasped, his eyes sweeping the slim beauty who looked down at the floor and twisted her fingers together nervously against her waist.
"Then I'll leave the two of you together. Of course, you'll miss Susan Amory's punishing Prudence, but I'm sure you can see something like that some other time."
"Of course, of course, Madame Helga. Thanks ... I'm very grateful to you."
Madame Helga smiled and closed the door. Murray Bannister approached the quivering girl. She was about five feet five and a half inches in height, with supple waist, long sleek legs, and her tits were closely spaced, young melons, startlingly contrasting with the almost boyish compactness of her oval-cheeked behind.
"I'll be very nice to you, Jane. You're a darling, you're really lovely," he said thickly as he came towards her. Taking her hands, he kissed her gently on the mouth. Jane moaned and closed her eyes as she pressed herself against him. Releasing her hands, he put his own on her bottom, and gently squeezed it, his prick aching with delight to feel the saucy springiness of those tightening and tightly spaced bottom ovals.
To his delight, Jane hugged him and then gave him her mouth. What was more, a moment later he groaned with pleasure as she introduced her pert pink tongue between his lips.
"I'm so glad it's you who is going to fuck me, Mr. Bannister," she confided in a vibrant whisper as that first French kiss ended. "Ted is nice and all that, but I really want a grownup man to show me how it's done. I'm going to get married as soon as I graduate this next February, and I know my hubby will want me to be as good as he is. He's had lots of girls, and I was sort of scared I couldn't come up to his expectations. Will you show me everything, Mr. Bannister?"
"I'll try, but that's a big order, darling. Now let's see what you look like without your clothes, shall we?" Murray Bannister could hardly conceal his excitement over this unexpected good fortune. He began to unbutton Jane's blouse, while she unfastened the skirt and let it fall to her slim ankles. Almost reverently, he unhooked the bandeau of the bra and then his hands began to cup and squeeze gently the panting globes of her superb breasts. Her skin was a delicious carnation tint, that blend of pink and white which is so irresistible to the mature voluptuary and which, if he is somewhat sadistically inclined, marks exquisitely under the spanking hand or hairbrush or switch.
Soon Murray Bannister's hands were skinning Jane's panties down, then pulling her tightly up against him so she could feel the savage pulsations of his aching prick. "Put your hands down there and take it out for me, darling," he huskily muttered into her ear, then rubbed the tip of his tongue into it.
Jane squealed and squirmed, and her slim hand found his zipper, tugged it down, and drew out his bulging cock. "Oh my goodness!" she gasped, coloring hotly. "It's so awfully big ... will it really go into little me?"
"Let's find out, darling."
Lifting her in his arms, he carried her over to the couch and laid her down on it. Jane put an arm over her eyes and shiveringly waited while he stripped naked. Then, crouching between her thighs, he emulated Brandon with Maxine. But in a far more expert way, since his hands slid under Jane's saucy compact bottom cheeks and, squeezing them lasciviously, he began to eat the milky-skinned virgin.
It wasn't long before she was groaning and sobbing in her joy, expressing her pleasure at this unexpected act. "Ohh, Oh, Mr. Bannister, darling, ohh, oohhh, I didn't ever think a man would ever do anything like that ... oh, but it's so nice ... oh, please don't stop! You're driving me crazy ... oh, darling Mr. Bannister, oh please, whenever you want to fuck me, I'm ready, I'm so ready, please, lover!"
It was almost easy to forget his maturity and do what perhaps a youth like Brandon would have done, climb on her and give it to her hard. But Murray Bannister forced himself to use the utmost self-control, appreciating the delicious conquest of so tempting a virgin. So, kneeling between her legs, his hands gently squeezing her tits, he teasingly probed his cockhead against the moistening and twitching lips of her virgin cunt until at last, out of impatient desire, Jane arched to him and he could feel his cockhead slipping between the quaking lips of her love-core.
As he sank down into her, she groaned and flung her arms around him. Then he began to fuck her with long deliberate thrusts, pausing from time to time to feel the indescribably thrilling contractions of her womb walls which gripped his rampaging prick and threatened to destroy his already waning self-control.
But in reality-or at least in his mind's eye and fantasy-it was Myra Castlebar whom he was fucking even as he brought lovely naked young Jane to climax after climax, inserting his right forefinger just inside the lips of her dainty rosebud of a virgin ass-hole and wresting shrill wordless cries of frantic pleasure from the delighted young convert to this her initial adoration of stiff male cock.
CHAPTER TEN
Another full week had passed, marking the second week of black-haired Myra Castlebar's debut as instructress under the regime of Madame Helga. As yet, she had no knowledge that her former pupil Carol Bannister was now enrolled in this very school. But the honey-haired Amazonian directress, following her conspiratorial chat with Carol's lecherous and virile uncle the previous Sunday, had arranged a little tableau for Myra to come upon quite accidentally-though of course it would be no accident at ah.
Buxom silver-blonde Dorothea Bunson, in charge of the oldest girls at the school, had visited the dominatress on Friday morning to complain that one of her pupils had violated the rule against indiscriminate pairing off by having made her way late the previous evening to the room of one of Homer Grange's eighteen-year-old male pupils, Bob Salisbury. The culprit was Sally Avery, a stately, rather tall, nineteen-year-old, dark brown-haired girl who had been enrolled in the school by her fifty-year-old guardian, a banker who had been her dead father's close friend and who was lustfully enamored of the mature young brunette. Sally's mother had left her husband some five years previously to go off to Europe with a dashing Italian count, without caring that she left her daughter and husband behind her. Eventually Sally's father had obtained a divorce in a New York court on the grounds of desertion. Upon his death not quite a year ago, Sally's guardian had taken her into his Long Island home where he resided with an elderly housekeeper and two rather attractive young maids (both of whom he fucked) and had there determined to seduce her. However, at the time, SaUy seemed rather indifferent to male advances; but he discovered quite by chance she was infatuated with a handsome young senior in the college she was attending.
Shortly after her arrival at Danielson House to which she had gone with great reluctance because her secret affair had thus been broken off, her guardian had had the report from Dr. Penelope Fielding that his delightful ward was not a virgin. This made him ah the more determined to convert her to accepting him as her bed partner, and so he had given explicit instructions to Madame Helga and paid an additional fee for the special erotic training which his ward was to receive.
For the first week or two, Sally Avery had written her guardian anguished letters begging him to take her out of this dreadful place where she knew no one and where she doubted the value of any education she might receive. She wanted, she told her guardian, to find a job in New York City and earn her own living and perhaps have her own apartment. But a week or two later, she saw Bob Salisbury on his way to Homer Granger's morning class, and she very nearly called out her senior lover's name, for the resemblance was really amazing. like that young worthy who had had the prize of Sally's cherry, Bob Salisbury was tall, with curly black hair and a straight nose and firm mouth and sparkling blue eyes, yet with the physique of a football player.
A few days later, Bob and Sally met each other in the hall of one of the quadrangle buildings en-route to their respective classrooms, and this time Sally whispered a greeting and then vividly blushed. From then on, the two took every possible occasion to speak or whisper, always with the precautions that none of the teachers or the two matrons might discover what was happening. Eventually Sally made the rendezvous with the youth to come to his room and try him out in bed to see if he was the equal of the boy who had given her her first fucking and had given her a decided taste for more of the same before her guardian had ended this exciting idyll.
Dorothea Bunson had suspected that the attractive dark brown-haired Sally was getting a crush on one of the male students at Madame Helga's boarding school, and so she had already expressed her suspicions to the directress. It was a simple matter for the latter to use her closed-circuit TV system to keep tabs on Sally Avery, and Madame Helga was thus able to see for herself the stealthy entry of Sally into Bob's room and what took place thereafter. The youth undressed her, exclaiming over her charms, they clenched and fondled each other passionately as they exchanged long French kisses; then Bob pushed Sally onto the bed on her back and swiftly mounted her.
There was no danger of pregnancy at Madame Helga's boarding school; it was a very simple matter for the dominatress to have her cook drop a contraceptive pill into a coffee cup or hide it in a soup or a salad or a dish of pudding. Hence there would be no scandal as consequences from the forbidden fucking session which Bob and Sally had enjoyed all by themselves and without an authorization. So when Dorothea Bunson came in the next morning to tell her superior she had followed Sally down the hall at a distance so as not to be seen and had watched the young woman going into Bob Salisbury's room, Madame had merely laughed and said, "I saw a good deal more than that, my dear Dorothea. Very well, both of them shall be punished. But I have a little idea of how to profit from that punishment by letting our newest and very chaste young instructress watch and listen. We shall simply put her in the room adjacent to the testing room, where the punishment will take place. She will be sent there on some errand or another, but the one-way panel will be exposed and the audio system will be turned on so she cannot help seeing and hearing how you operate. I leave it to your own inventive nature, dear Dorothea, to amuse yourself with Bob and Sally. I am sure you will have your own fun out of it."
"Yes, indeed I shall," the silver-blonde instructress purred, her eyes shining with anticipation.
Myra Castlebar had finished dinner in the refectory, and was glad to escape back to her room. Both Carl Edwards and Jasper Maxon had had the effrontery to sit down on either side of her and each of them had then tried to talk her into visting their room late that night. Her cheeks scarlet, her superb boobs heaving, she unlocked the door of her room and turned the key to make certain no one could follow her. Of course she had no way of suspecting that the male instructors had done this at Madame Helga's specific orders. For by now the full-scale plan of Operation Myra was being put into action, and the process would first force her to become aware of the sexual aura which prevailed here at Danielson House, and then most particularly affect her psyche until finally her own tender virgin flesh would be exposed to its influence.
As for Carl Edwards and Jasper Maxon, after Myra had left them, both men laughingly expressed their views of the black-haired young woman's extreme prudishness, and then each regretted the fact that he would not be the one chosen to break Myra in and, in the process, pierce her vigilantly guarded cherry. "You mark my words, Jasper old boy," Carl Edwards winked at his crony, "the fellow who does get into Myra's panties is going to find he has unleashed a small volcano, unless I miss my guess. That sweet bitch is just dying to be stripped and screwed. The only trouble is, she doesn't want to admit it to herself."
"Yes, I daresay you're right, Carl." Jasper Maxon took out a cigar, drew off the cellophane wrapper, and lit it, drawing on it steadily until the glowing tip told him it was properly ignited. "She seems to be scared to death of a man, but I don't think she-likes girls either. At least, I haven't heard any rumors to support that theory."
"No, but if I know Madame Helga and I should," Carl Edwards chuckled, "some big shot behind the scenes is pulling the strings and paying a handsome price to be the puppet master so far as Myra is concerned. I certainly envy the lucky bastard, whoever he is. But all this talk has made me horny. I'll have to see if I can't get a nice weekend date with maybe Susan or Martha. I know Dorothea has other plans for tonight."
Dorothea Bunson indeed had other plans for this memorable Friday evening. Homer Grange had already told Bob Salisbury that he was to report at eight o'clock to the testing room, but without enlightening the young man as to the real reason for this assignment. Homer himself was somewhat disappointed that he hadn't been asked to supervise the double punishment of the two clandestine lovers. He was randy as ever, but he finally decided he could always have Christine Bernard back to comfort him. The thought brightened his gloomy face, and he went back to his room after an excellent dinner to smoke a cigar and to relish the moment when he would pick up the phone and ask one of the matron's to escort the demure, petite teenager to his apartment.
As for Sally Avery, she was mystified when, just before the bell rang for the final class this Friday afternoon, silver-blonde Dorothea Bunson eyed her and then, without a change of facial expression, calmly remarked before the entire class, "Sally, you are to report to the testing room at eight o'clock tonight. Be sure to be there unless you want a black mark against your record. And now, class dismissed!"
Suspecting nothing, Sally Avery had left on her blouse and skirt, since it was far too early for bed, and walked down the hallway and on to the other building where the testing room was located. She turned down the corridor, her heart almost stopped beating, for there at its end was Bob Salisbury, standing looking around and apparently most anxious and concerned, judging from the constant shiftings of his feet and the turning of his head. When he saw her come towards him, he uttered a choking cry: "You too, Sally? My gosh, they must have found out!" i
"They did indeed, young man," Dorothea Bunson sternly interrupted as she turned around the corner behind him and came towards the two blushing, sheepish offenders. Their mouths gaped when they both turned to stare at her, for the silver-blonde was clad in a one-piece clinging black kid body sheath, which covered her from the throat down to her loins, the skin-tight, supple, gleaming substance gusseting between her legs exactly like tights. She wore matching elbow-length gloves and knee-length boots, and between her gloved hands she gripped a flexible black leather riding crop with an oval-shaped flap at the end.
Without a word to either of them, apart from her perfectly timed interjection, she took a key she had in her left hand and opened the door to the testing room, then silently motioned for both Bob and Sally to enter.
Both teenagers gulped and glanced back over their shoulders at the leather-clad dominatress, for Dorothea Bunson looked far more imperious and menacing-as well as voluptuously exciting than her comparative youth might have otherwise suggested. Of medium height, with splendid, closely spaced high-perched round tits and a plump round bottom to match, she was desired by all three male instructors on Madam Helga's staff, but rarely allowed anyone of them to fuck her unless he would agree to doing it her way. That, as young Robert TurnbuU had already discovered, implied submitting to subjugation from her whip and also humbly gamming her after proclaiming her superiority to the male. Only when she had given her male partner a sound whipping and obtained ritualistic homage from him, such as licking her boots as well as her tasty cunt, would Dorothea Bunson deign to let a man's prick enter her tight, hot cunt.
The testing room had been equipped especially for this extraordinary punishment session, for this was what it was intended to be. Apart from the rubber sheets on the floor on which the naked young lovers were instructed to roll and twist in full and uninhibited lust once they had overcome their shyness during their first fucking bout, and also apart from the low wide couch at the side of the wall near the door, Dorothea Bunson had had installed a tall metal triangle, in the shape of an isosceles, with a heavy base to support the weight of both naughty culprits. There was also a low pillory, which compelled the victim to bend his or her head and extend his or her wrist into the three holes of the top yoke piece so he or she would be bowed down to about waist level, thus thrusting out the naked bottom defensely for the caresses of Dorothea Bunson's riding crop or hairbrush or gloved hand or whatever other implement she might prefer. Finally, there was a low wooden sawhorse, with buckling straps attached at both ends to bind the victim's wrists and ankles, and a broad strap around the middle of the device which went around the waist and thus to render the culprit quite immobile.
With a smile of anticipation, the perverse silver-blonde instructress locked the door behind her and then peremptorily commanded, "Now then, both of you, strip naked!"
Bob Salisbury glanced ardently at blushing dark brown-haired Sally Avery, and his heart began to beat wildly. He had been in this testing room some weeks ago to lose his male virginity, and so he naturally believed this was to be a kind of repeat performance. And since it involved the delicious girl whose tight warm cunt he had already explored without permission and found so exciting to his eager and virile young prick, he was already beginning to get a hard-on at the thought of being again tightly lodged between Sally's long sleek milky thighs.
A mocking little smile flitted over Dorothea Bunson's lips, for she, too, comprehended exactly what the youth must be thinking. Glancing at Sally and seeing how the latter was blushing and beginning rather embarrassedly to take off her blouse and skirt, the smile deepened because it was the silver-blonde's penchant to have her victims lulled into the belief that they were going to have nothing but pleasure. Her own pussy was twitching and moistening at the very thought of having both these handsome teenagers at her own lustful disposal. Oh yes, in due time they would have pleasure once they had been punished for breaking the rules of Danielson House, but most of all they would procure an intense gratification for her.
When Sally at last slid down her little panties and stepped out of them, then modestly put one hand over the extremely thick dark brown fleece of her cunt hair as she straightened, Dorothea Bunson snapped, "It's a little late for modesty, don't you think, Sally? Everybody in the school knows how you and Bob got together in Bob's room the other night."
"Oh no!" Sally groaned, clapping her other hand to her mouth and looking really scared this time.
"Oh yes, young lady," Dorothea Bunson grimly countered. "Not only that, Madame Helga saw both of you in your shameless naughtiness. It was she who decided you should both be punished. Understand, both of you, we believe in normal and healthy sexual expression at this school, but that's not to say anyone of you has the right to sneak off and experiment on your own. If either of you had had the good sense to mention to your instructor, you, Bob to Mr. Granger, and you, Sally, to me, it probably could have been arranged, because otherwise your conduct has been quite good. So you may both prepare yourselves for a very long and serious punishment. Now then, come kneel down before me, your hands clasped behind your backs."
Both naked and trembling culprits hesitantly approached and obeyed, and Dorothea Bunson's eyes blazed at the sight of Bob Salisbury's stiff bobbing prick, for the youth could not hide his excitement at seeing his beautiful sweetheart naked except for her black silk stockings and pumps.
Swiftly now the instructress blindfolded them with black cotton bandannas, knotting them tightly at the back of their heads and making certain that they could not see once the blindfolds had been applied.
"And now," Dorothea Bunson sensually purred, "suppose we put you two lovebirds in captivity." With this, she took Bob Salisbury by the hand and led him over to the triangle, then ordered him to reach his arms high over his head, warning him that the least disobedience would earn him extra punishment. Her eyes devoured his sturdy young male nakedness, and as he stood almost on tiptoe in front of the metal triangle, his stiff young prick thrust out violently. Dorothea's gloved hand slyly caressed it for a moment and as the youth groaned and momentarily lowered his hands, she snapped, "Keep your arms up where they belong, or I'll really punish you!"
He obeyed, groaning again but this time not entirely with tormented pleasure; she had pinched the sensitive tip of his cock between gloved thumb and forefinger.
"That will serve as a warning, Bob," she announced. Then, mounting a footstool which was placed beside the triangle, she proceeded to tie his wrists together with felt cord-which would leave no chafing marks-to the peak of the metal device, thus forcing him to stand on tiptoe.
Descending from the footstool, she now made his ankles fast to the widely spread legs at the base, using the same sort of soft-surfaced cord. Then, stepping back to contemplate her handy work, she smiled again with pleasure at the sight of his vigorous young naked body and the hugely turgid spear obscenely sticking out as if ready for servicing.
It would not be lovely Sally Avery whose pussy would receive the brunt of that weapon tonight, Dorothea Bunson had already decided. Now she took charge of the blindfolded girl and led her to the triangle also. However, she made Sally stand with her back to her young lover, and proceeded to tie the girl's wrists to the top of the triangle and her ankles to the widely spread base as she had done with Bob. When this was done, Sally Avery gasped and squirmed uneasily, for against the velvety, deliciously rounded cheeks of her naked ass she could feel the prodding of her lover's agitated prick-a torment for him also.
Drawing the footstool up in front of Sally, Dorothea seated herself at her leisure and reached down to the floor for a teakwood coffer. Opening it, she drew out a long white heron's feather, and she began immediately to glide it first against each of Sally's pantingly heaving tits and then descend it towards the girl's belly-button, which she rubbed delicately and lingeringly until the naked culprit began to gasp and tug at her bound wrists above her head. The girl's convulsive gyrations served to chafe Bob Salisbury's agonized prick back and forth against the shadowy furrow between her ass-cheeks, a fact of which the youth was distractedly conscious.
Indeed, he began to mumble words of apology to his young sweetheart. "Sally ... I can't help it ... I'm tied up this way ... please don't move around like that! I'll go off ... I don't want to do it ... you're so beautiful. Oh, please don't wriggle around like that, you're driving me crazy!"
But Dorothea Bunson had heard the youth's plea, and she stopped feathering the trembling, naked captive. Reaching down to the coffer again, she took out a curious little metal device and then moved between the trembling, naked young lovers. A moment later, Bob uttered a cry of pain: the silver-blonde instructress had fixed this curious metal cap right over the tip of his prick and, pressing the rims, forced it to tighten right into the sensitive circumcisional groove.
"That, I think, will keep you from embarrassing dear little Sally when she begins to rub her sweet behind against that wicked cock of yours, young man," she mockingly informed the agitated youth.
The cold metal cap nuzzled Sally's anal crack, and the blindfolded young girl instinctively arched herself forward to escape its cold and indecent pressure against her tender cleft. The pose was salacious to extreme. Sally thus thrust out in the most wanton way imaginable the thickly fleeced aperture of her soft young cunt, while her superb boobs tautened and appeared to be made of white marble, tipped with darkening coral buds amid wide, paler centers.
Resuming her seat on the footstool, Dorothea Bunson took the feather up again and began to tickle her lovely pupil. Once again the very tip of the delicate feather rasped back and forth in the girl's navel, and then abruptly swept down her lower abdomen to touch the pouting pink lips of her gaping cunt. The huge straddling of both victims' legs, due to the formation of the metal punishment triangle, thus gave Dorothea Bunson unimpaired access to the most intimate parts of their young naked bodies.
Just about the time Dorothea Bunson was completing the fettering of Sally and Bob for their erotic punishment, Myra Castlebar was startled to hear the phone ring in her room. When she answered it, it was the vibrant voice of Madame Helga. "Myra dear, I'm sorry to disturb you, but I wonder if you can do me a favor?"
"Of course, Madame Helga."
"Good! I've prepared a new rulebook about the school, and galley proofs have just come in from the printer. I'd like very much if you would take the galleys and read them carefully just to see if there are any glaring errors. Also, it will help familiarize you with the scope and aims of the school. Could you come to my apartment now and get them? I'd like you to take them to a soundproofed room where you will be quite undisturbed and where you will be able to concentrate fully."
"Why, of course, I'll come right away, Madame Helga," Myra Castlebar exclaimed.
She had worn a lovely yellow cotton print dress, for the weather continued warm and even sultry. Her charcoal-brown nylons and her matching brown suede pumps with modest two-inch heels made her exceptionally alluring. With her black hair and the soft yellow tone of the dress, her creamy skin was set into mouthwatering relief.
When she arrived at the apartment of the dominatress, the latter met her at the door, wearing a belted silver lame hostess gown, with open-toe high-heeled pumps. There emanated from her a singular and troubling aura of sensuality, but there was nothing in her radiant smile or pleasant greeting to the startled young instructress to indicate she had anything else on her mind besides the errand for which she had called Myra.
"Here is the key to Room 42D," she concluded as she handed Myra the large manila envelope containing the proofs, and a silver key. "It will be very quiet there, and I'd like you to spend at least half an hour or perhaps an hour, and then come back to my apartment and tell me what you think of my explanations. I want them to be clear enough for all the students just as well as all the teachers to understand them without any doubt."
"I'll be happy to do that for you, Madame Helga."
"You're a very sweet girl, Myra. Do you like it here?"
Myra Castlebar hesitated, frowning imperceptibly, but the astute, honey-haired Amazon discerned this momentary hesitation and marked it down for future reference. "It ... it's a very unusual place, Madame Helga. My pupils seem to be very intelligent, maybe more so than would be found in public schools, and yet they have personalities I can't quite get used to."
"I have no doubt that you are referring to Melita, that pretty little charmer whose delightful bottom you warmed last week," Helga Danielson wryly interposed.
Myra's cheeks colored hotly as she strove to change the subject: "N-no, it wasn't that, not exactly that. Although I still can't get used to the idea that pupils in the school can be subject to physical punishment like that."
"As I told you before, my dear," the dominatress patiently declared, "before any of my pupils are entered here, I see to it that I have letters of authorization from their parents or relatives who are sophisticated enough to understand that there are times when a good spanking is the very best possible and, indeed, the only proper punishment for certain occasions. But at any rate, you do like your work."
"Oh yes!"
"Yes, I have heard from several of your pupils, or at least those whom you took over from Jennifer; they like you very much. Well, I am pleased with you, Myra. Now if you will, go do that proofreading job for me and give me your very first impressions as soon as you have read enough. The rest of it can be done over the weekend, if you have nothing else pressing."
"Why, I have nothing at all to do tomorrow and Sunday, Madame Helga."
"That's right, I was forgetting, you don't have a boyfriend or sweetheart," the dominatress could not help slyly interjecting, and was rewarded by seeing Myra's cheeks burn a bright red at this highly suggestive jibe.
Somewhat in a state of confusion, though pleased her work had met with the directress' approval, Myra Castlebar bade her superior goodnight and then went down the stairs and walked into the adjoining building of the quadrangle to find the room where she would do her proofreading. Of course she had no way of knowing that it was exactly the same room in which Murray Bannister had so recently watched Brandon and Maxine being initiated into the art of fucking by Homer Granger.
She unlocked the door, closed it again, and sat down on the couch and opened the envelope to take out the galley proofs. Then, taking the first long sheet, she took a ballpoint pen out of the hip pocket of the pretty yellow cotton print dress and began to read.
A few minutes later, noiselessly, the panel slid back to reveal the one-way glass section, which had served Murray Bannister so well in his role of peeping Tom. At the same time the high-fidelity audio system connected with the adjoining room was turned on, and Myra Castlebar suddenly stopped, transfixed, her ballpoint poised above the bottom of that first sheet where she had found an error in punctuation as she heard Sally Avery suddenly squeal plaintively, "Ohhh, oh please, Miss Bunson, don't tickle me there, oh please, I can't stand it!"
For Dorothea Bunson, at her ease on the footstool which was placed in front of the blindfolded, naked and straddled culprit, had resumed the feather frigging, and the tip of the white heron's plume had begun to brush the twitching, crinkling lips of Sally's no longer virgin vulva.
Frantic with confusion and shame as well as with the myriad sensations which had begun to pervade her ardent young loins, Sally began to squirm and jerk, trying to press herself backwards away from the diabolical feather. But in so doing, of course, she forced Bob Salisbury to press his metal-capped prick suggestively and painfully against the shadowy groove which separated her milky ass-cheeks, so he was very nearly able to press himself onward into the dainty petals of her still virgin ass-hole.
Discovering this disconcerting state of affairs, Sally uttered another squeal and arched herself forward to escape the menace behind her. She was, however, between Scylla and Charybdis, for the silver-blonde dominatress intensified the stroking of those soft pink cuntlips with the edges of the downy soft feather. The evanescent caress began to send warm waves of voluptuous awakenings through Sally's nervous system, while her magnificent boobs had begun to rise and fall with an agitated turbulence that evidenced her emotional arousal.
Myra Castlebar had been sitting sideways on the comfortable couch, bent over the proofs in a studious attitude when these first lascivious sounds came to her ears. Turning her head, she uttered a strangled cry of disbelief. There, before her, as clearly as if she had been in the next room with the trio, she beheld the metal triangle with the naked youth tied to it, his wrists high above his head, his back to her, and she saw also Dorothea Bunson seated on the footstool to one side of naked Sally Avery, busily engaged in twirling the feather here and there over the girl's mossy slit. By way of capricious variation, she now lifted the feather and began to caress the inner curves of Sally's panting tits, while the young beauty, thus beleaguered, turned her blindfolded face from side to side, contorted and flushed as ah the stimuli to her most sensitive parts began to have their salacious way with her and to destroy her demure and nominally chaste nature.
"Ohhh ... please ... oh, Miss Bunson, I beg of you ... oh, don't do that! Oh, I can't stand all that awful tickling. Please, and it hurts my behind ... please, if you have to punish me, please, won't you spank me and get it over with? Oh, I beg of you ... ahhhh ... please!"
Myra Castlebar shuddered as these gasped-out, almost inarticulate words came clearly to her, and her eyes were huge and fascinatedly fixed on the scene beyond. She could see the youth's sturdy naked body, his muscles rippling and surging along back and shoulders and thighs and calves, for the traction of his wrist bonds to the metal peak of the triangle and the exaggerated straddling of his legs accentuated the discomfort of his pose, its obscenity and its extreme vulnerability to the devious and ingenious dominatory methods of Dorothea Bunson.
"So, you naughty girl, you would rather be spanked than tickled?" Dorothea gurgled, her eyes shining with perverse delight as she again lowered the feather to the gaping cunthole of the distraught milky-skinned, blindfolded culprit. "Well, Sally dear, the prime consideration of a punishment is that the naughty girl or boy enduring it not be given what she or he would much rather enjoy, so I'm afraid you'll just have to put up with being tickled until I decide otherwise."
"Ohh, lord," Sally Avery groaned, restlessly turning her flushed, tear-stained face this way and that, as she dragged helplessly at her wrist bonds.
These gyrations, of course, only served to jut out the splendid goblets of her tits and to make the muscles of her inner thighs and calves ripple and jerk with a fascinating choreography all their lascivious own. Now the feather tip delicately touched the dainty little nook above Sally's pouting lips, seeking and finding the girl's sensitive clit, and a long sobbing "Ohh, not there, oh, please not there!" broke from the victim.
The galley proofs had dropped from Myra's nerveless hand as she turned to watch this incredible orgiastic tableau before, her. Her bosom, like Sally's, had also begun to rise and fall with an erratic rhythm. Her dark blue eyes were enormously dilated because she simply could not comprehend what was taking place. It seemed cruel, and yet despite herself, she was held paralyzed as if under a hypnotic spell.
Her eyes narrowed, leaning forward intently to study the erogenous area selected for the continuation of Sally's punishment, Dorothea Bunson continued to stroke the cowl which was the clit's sweet hiding place, until at last, exacerbated and swollen by all the titillations, the dainty miniscule prick-simulacrum by which every female symbolically imitates the male, appeared, stiffened and throbbed with neural excitation.
"Ohhh ... ahhhhh ... oh, don't! Oh, I beg of you, oh please, Miss Bunson, spank me, punish me but not this, not like this! Oh, I'm so ashamed ... ooooh, ahhhh ... I can't stand it ... I just can't!" the naked girl wailed as she tried to jerk her hips from side to side to avoid the maddening friction of the feather.
And then, abruptly, Dorothea Bunson halted the sweet torment of Sally's exquisite cunthole. Bending to the teakwood coffer once again, she drew out a short-handled, oval-shaped leather paddle, very much like a ping-pong paddle, and moved behind the shuddering Bob Salisbury. Standing sideways to him at his left, she reached out with her gloved left hand to take hold of his still turgid prick, and her thumb and forefinger began to apply quick little pinches to the base of the shaft and the scrotum, while with her right hand she applied the paddle smartly to each cheek of his naked ass.
Startled gasps, then groans, then frantic wrigglings attested to Bob's discomfort from the very start. But the metal cap which clenched against the sensitive glans of his stalwart young cock continued to prod poor Sally's anal crease with more and more determined vigor, causing the naked, blindfolded culprit to lunge herself madly forward and to twist this way and that to avoid the immodest digging of that cold metal object against the puckering lips of her maiden ass-hole.
Dorothea Bunson did not spank swiftly, for each stinging and noisily administered stroke of the small, pliant leather paddle intoned crisply against the base and the summits of Bob's muscular bottom cheeks at intervals of about twenty-five seconds. The accumulative sting and smarting soon began to draw tears to his eyes, and to produce convulsive surgings and jerking of his tethered and straddled body on the triangle, ah this of course continued the assault against Sally's milky, delectably rounded bottom globes and particularly the shadowy crease which separated them and led to her second orifice of sexual pleasure.
But it was the dominatress' sly and continued pinches against his aching and frantically turgid cockshaft which most disconcerted the handsome naked youth, till in a low, almost sobbing voice he begged Dorothea Bunson to whip him as he deserved, but at least to spare him this.
"So, you don't like to have your cock played with, and I suppose that's because Sally isn't doing it," Dorothea Bunson loudly retorted, drawing a frantic gasp of shame from poor naked Sally as well as a groan of utter dismay from the crushed youth. "This is ah meant to teach you that you are not to pair off like a couple of rutting young animals just because you have the urge. Maybe the next time you'll ask permission of your instructor as I know Sally is going to ask of me-and maybe both of us will decide that the two of you need other partners, as a continued part of punishment for your naughtiness. There, your bottom is getting very red, Bob, but don't worry, your sweet little darling Sally will have her proper share before the two of you leave here, I promise you!"
Now, with a final flurry of about twelve good hard swats ah over his flaming bottom, Dorothea Bunson drew the youth to tearful, almost childish cries and sobs as he lunged and twisted madly to escape the burning sting of the leather paddle. All the while, she kept pinching his aching prick with tiny compressions of her slim gloved fingers so as to prevent his achieving the comparative release of gushing come.
Myra still sat dazed and incredulous in the watching room, her eyes glued to the glass panel before her. Her face was scarlet, her tits rose and fell with violent exuberance, and her throat was dry. She could not turn her eyes away as she watched the youth's solid, vigorous bottom cheeks turn an angry red, watched his convulsive jerking this way and that against the frame of the triangle, and heard Sally's plaintive cries as the metal cap pinched the head of his prick and so irritatingly kept prodding against her soft bottom cheeks and the even more inviting groove which separated them.
Desisting now from the spanking of the youth, Dorothea Bunson put the paddle back into the coffer and then began to untie Sally's ankles, and then her wrists. But before the naked beauty could express any thanks for this seeming release from punishment, the dominatress grasped the girl's earlobe, and, as if she were a naughty child, led her forward to the pillory, her gloved palm spanking Sally's milky round ass-cheeks smartly to encourage her to hurry forward to her next turn of torment.
A few moments later, Sally Avery found herself bent forward from the waist, her boobs dangling lasciviously, her wrists and neck captured in the yoke holds, and, worst of all, her white-skinned bottom cheeks thrust out in the most tempting pose that a flagellant could ask for.
Sally began to squirm uneasily, suspecting she was in for a sound spanking, and the contractions of her bottom muscles made these satiny hemispheres seem even more erotically active, as they would be in the act of fucking. No doubt the charming girl would have infinitely preferred that to the humiliation of a spanking, especially knowing her lover was present to observe, by ear if not by sight.
But Dorothea Bunson had other ideas. Now she deftly unlocked the metal cap which had been clinging so tenaciously to Bob Salisbury's prick, moved up to face him, and with her left hand took hold of a tiny silver zipper sewn into the crotch of her body sheath and dragged it down to expose the petulant pink lips of her cunt.
Then, moving even closer to the trembling, naked youth, she dug her gloved fingers into his scarlet bottom cheeks, while she arched herself so she could feel his still stiff cockhead prod against her quim. Bob groaned with discomfort as her gloved fingers squeezed and dug and pinched, and then he groaned even more loudly when he felt himself sucked into Dorothea Bunson's tight cunthole. With a sigh of delight, the instructress thrust herself still further forward, absorbing at least part of his ramrod along the warm, narrow channel of her cunt, and he could feel the sudden spasmodic fluttering of her cuntwalls.
"Ohh ... what is it ... is that you, Sally?" he gasped.
"No, I'm sorry to disappoint you, it's not your little sweetheart," Dorothea Bunson hissed. "Now pay attention if you don't want me to take my riding crop to that bottom of yours, young man. And kiss me and use your tongue inside my mouth. If you work me up to a nice hot come, maybe I'll let you finish this session with your sweetheart after all."
Myra's mouth dropped open as she saw and heard this wanton proposal of seduction by her academic colleague. By now, shifting on the couch as she had done, her skirt had racked up almost to the tops of her charcoal-brown stockings, and just a glimpse of the creamy skin of one lovely thigh was visible. Also, she had put her left hand over her heart, and she could feel the heaving of her tit as she watched absorbingly, still hypnotized by what was taking place in that room just beyond her.
Dorothea Bunson's mouth merged with Bob Salisbury's, while at the same time she thrust herself a last time forward, till she had taken every inch of prick the young man had to offer deep inside her torrid cunthole. With a moan of pleasure, she remained in this tight cohesion with him, her gloved fingers still kneading, pinching and prodding his inflamed bare ass.
Dutifully, the youth open his mouth and thrust his tongue between her lips. Another moan of pleasure exuded from the dominatress, and then, luxuriating in the sensation of clamping his throbbing prick along the tight canal of her pussy, she locked her arms around his waist and forced her mouth against his. His tongue thrust back and forth between her parted lips, and Dorothea Bunson exhilarated in the joy of what she whimsically liked to call "a command fucking under duress." It pleased her, also, to take her pupil's lover from the girl and let the latter be quite aware of what was taking place, for now she turned her head back over her shoulder and called out to Sally Avery, "I have to compliment you on your taste, Sally dear, Bob is really quite a man for his age! My gracious, I've got all of him inside of me. Just think, if you'd only come to me and asked permission, you might be enjoying this right now instead of your own teacher!"
"Ohhh, dear!" Sally sobbed distractedly.
Now, feeling near the pitch of passion, the instructress began to move her loins back and forth, taking the male role in this act of fucking. She hissed to Bob Salisbury, "Don't you dare let it slip out, or I'll really take the hide off you!"
Myra Castlebar did not know it, but her right hand had crept down to her gaping thighs, slid under her racked-up skirt, and now her slim fingers were touching her own pussy through the white nylon panties which snugged against her virgin cunthole.
And what she had no way of knowing was that in her office at this very moment, Madame Helga, seated before the closed-circuit TV set, was watching her newest instructress, her lips curved in a knowing smile. Decidedly, Myra Castlebar's innocence was being exquisitely corrupted to the point of weakening.
Seated on the couch near the Amazonian head of this singular boarding school, were none other than Murray Bannister and his lovely blonde niece, who now exchanged a look of conspiratorial enjoyment in having thus been able to eavesdrop on the supposedly impeccably virtuous black-haired young woman who had once been Carol's tutoress.
"Unkie Murray, do you see what that naughty Myra is doing right now?" Carol broke the rapt silence with a hurriedly whispered, giggling question.
"I do indeed, baby. And what a surprise it will be for her when she learns that both of us know about it, eh? Now keep still and let's listen. What's going on in the room just beyond is just as exciting ... may we have it again please, Madame Helga?"
"Certainly." The dominatress put her hand to the switch of the set and turned it to another channel, and once again the testing room was portrayed in graphic detail on the large wide screen. By now, Dorothea Bunson was reaching her climax, and the jerking and twisting of her hips indicated that she was accelerating the tempo of impaling herself on Bob Salisbury's tortured young prick so as to achieve this rapturous fulfillment. A hoarse cry from her announced the blissful moment, she sagged against the naked youth, clutching him tightly with her arms, her head bowed as her body shook with the tremors of a fiery come.
After a few moments, she languidly moved back, and his prick bobbed free into the air. Despite her own climax, he had not been able to achieve his own release, thanks to the ingenious device of the metal prick-cap ... for the tiny points which served as clamps into the sensitive flesh of the glans had been coated with a special drug furnished by Dr. Penelope Fielding, a kind of anesthetic which had the effect of prolonging the hard-on and providing at the same time a deterrent to hasty ejaculation. Indeed, this very drug was offered by several novelty manufacturers as a sex aid to men who were afraid of shooting off too quickly once their cocks were imbedded in the warm, tight love canals of their fucking partners.
Dorothea paused long enough to enjoy a cigarette, leaving Bob Salisbury still groaning and squirming, his cock jiggling with every maneuver he made against the triangle, while Sally Avery's anxiety and suspense continued to mount. Slowly Dorothea Bunson drew off her gloves, and then approached the naked captive. Putting her left forefinger directly against Sally's dainty clit, she began to frig the dark brown-haired young beauty, while with her right palm she regaled the tempting curves of those milky ass-cheeks which could not possibly evade this childish, humiliating and not really painful spanking.
But the frigging of Sally's clit together with the smarting warmth imparted by the instructress' palm began to create in Sally Avery's loins a frantic need for solace. "Ohhh ... ahhh ... oh, please, please, don't tickle me there! Oh, I can't stand it! I'll come ... oh, I'm going to come, I know I am ... ooooh ... ahhhhh ... ouch ... that stings, oooooh!" she wailed as her hips twisted this way and that, trying always to evade the repeated sting of Dorothea Bunson's bare palm.
A rosy glow suffused the milky-sheened hemispheres of Sally's lovely ass, and the girl's face was now equally reddened with her own blushes of shame as she understood what was happening to her. Her teeth had begun to chatter as the warm waves of lust seethed in her wakened pussy.
Then, as quickly as she had begun, Dorothea Bunson stepped back and left her pupil writhing and groaning, midway between heaven and hell, near to come and yet unable to achieve its gratification.
Sally began to whimper and to twist and squirm, as if she were begging for a stiff prick to thrust deep into her itching cunny and relieve the torments accumulating in that tight grotto. The silver-blonde moved back to her, then bent to whisper in the girl's ear. Sally uttered a stifled little cry, then nodded her head.
Quickly Dorothea Bunson unlocked the pillory, and then, once again taking charge of her pupil by the earlobe gripped firmly between right thumb and forefinger, ordered the naked Sally to kneel down. A moment later, Dorothea Bunson moved forward, pressing her loins against the girl's trembling mouth. Her pussy was exposed, thanks to the opening of the zipped cleft of the body sheath, and Sally promptly began to suck and kiss and lick her instructress' cunthole. Dorothea's hands now cupped the flushed, tear-stained cheeks of her naked pupil, her head tilting back and her eyes closing as she surrendered herself to this final goading which would plunge her over the edge of the abyss into the sweet oblivion of hot pussy come. A few moments later, her sobbing gasp of joy attested to Sally's homage.
She moved away, once again lit a cigarette, and then grinned at the teenaged couple. "Well, if you both promise never again to break our rules, I might just leave you here for a little while before you have to go back to your rooms and to bed," she blithely announced.
"Oh yes, Miss Bunson, we'll be good, we won't ever do it again, not without permission," Sally Avery exclaimed in an almost hysterical gratitude.
"I promise too, Miss Bunson," Bob Salisbury's voice was hoarse and shaking.
The instructress released the youth from the triangle, and then removed his blindfold, and then removed Sally's. She nodded encouragingly, and Bob Salisbury, with a cry of joy, sprang forward and bent to lift Sally to her feet, his hands digging into her soft, moist armpits. Their lips crushed together, and Sally gladly forced her tongue between his eagerly opened mouth. His hands now began to explore the sweet curves of her ass and thighs, while the panting, naked beauty seized his prickhead with her right thumb and forefinger and, opening the lips of her eager slit with the fingers of her other hand, introduced him well into her cleft. Then they began to fuck, murmuring endearments and inarticulate cries and gasps of pleasure as they finally achieved the reward Dorothea Bunson had promised.
And in the next room, Myra Castlebar, her eyes huge and humid, was rubbing her forefinger frantically into the soft moistening crevice of her cunt through her panties, trying swiftly to bring herself to climax as the result of the lascivious erotic sensations which watching this scene had so overwhelmingly engendered in her virginal but mature and yearning flesh.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
At the same moment Madame Helga had changed the tv channel to go back to the testing room in which Sally and Bob had finally reached the happy end of their punishment session under the aegis of Dorothea Bunson, the camouflaged wooden panel swung back into place in the adjacent room. Thus Myra's further vision into that room, where she had watched for the first time a male and a female complete the act of fucking, together with other licentious variations utterly new to her virginal experience, was terminated. And it was as if the secret hypnotic spell under which she had lingered throughout all she had just witnessed had suddenly been ended by a previously designated signal or cue, for she blinked her eyes and gasped, glanced down at her shamelessly lofted yellow cotton skirt and discovered her slim hand still pressed against her cunt. From the moisture her fingers felt, she realized with a violent blush of shame what she had been led to do. Dazedly, glancing furtively around with the fear that someone might walk in and see her in this improper condition, she looked about and saw the discarded proof sheets and the manila envelope on the floor. With a gasp, she remembered what Madame Helga had asked of her. Frantically, she stooped to retrieve the proofs and the envelope, and then began to read the sheets hastily, scanning them while the ballpoint pen was held between trembling fingers as she attempted to find errors which would add credence to what she intended to tell the dominatress-that she had done the work required.
As soon as Murray Bannister and Carol had left the dominatress' apartment, Madame Helga once again turned on the TV set to look into Myra's room, and her smile returned when she observed the ingenuous way in which the black-haired young woman was attempting to cover up her naughty indiscretion.
Then, putting a cigarette into her ivory holder, she lit it and leaned back in the swivel chair, closing her eyes and ruminating over the denouement Murray Bannister had urged her to bring about. For tonight would mark the definitive end of Myra Castlebar's maidenhood. And from all the signs she had observed of Myra's behavior under the influence of the carnal temptations she had purposely put into the young woman's pathway, she was quite sure the industrialist would achieve his long-desired goal but also that Myra Castlebar herself would accept that delicious destiny to which all of her virgin charms and especially her tender, sensitive virgin cunt were now ordained.
Half an hour later, the black-haired instructress timidly knocked at Madame Helga's door, and was told to come in. Myra had smoothed her dress and hurriedly gone back to her own apartment to wash her face and comb her hair so as to be more presentable and thus show absolutely no traces of the emotional drama that had caught her up in its voluptuous vortex.
"What did you think of the manuscript, my dear?" Madame Helga drawled, her face bland and without the least expression.
"It ... it's very comprehensive, and I'm sure all the pupils will be able to understand it," Myra nervously blurted.
"Do you find yourself in agreement with my rules, my dear? I mean, do you admit the justice of punishment for misdemeanors? Or do you still cling to your permissive notions that a teenager can be reasoned with and punished by logic rather than by an occasional sound spanking on the naked bottom?" the honey-haired Amazon pursued.
Myra's face flamed as she lowered her eyes and she tried carefully to phrase an answer that would lull Madame Helga's suspicions of what had really happened to her in that awful room. "I ... I don't think that I am so permissive as that ... I mean, it seems to me..." she floundered.
"Speak up, Myra, tell me exactly what you're trying to say!"
"I mean, it seems to me that the ... the pupils here have an extraordinary amount of freedom as it is."
"Oh you do? It's true we occasionally teach them subjects not usually found on the curriculum of a standard institution of learning," the dominatress smilingly replied. "But you will find that the instructors and the instructresses are learning in the bargain, which is a very healthy state of affairs. Now then, let us take a hypothetical case. If you were to commit an indiscretion or a misdemeanor, such as a naughty girl might, would you say you deserved to be punished?"
Myra bit her lips and thought for a moment, not certain exactly where the wily directress was leading her. Then at last she admitted, "Well, I suppose so, except that a mature person, who is teaching, isn't likely to make such mistakes."
"Then you think it is only hypothetical? In other words, you would never be so naughty as, shall we say, Melita, whom you spanked so capably on your first attempt, or again, as Sally Avery?"
Very slyly Madame Helga, after a significant pause, had flung the name of the dark brown-haired beauty whom Myra had just witnessed being first punished and then fucked as a kind of gauntlet. The ruse was enormously successful. The young woman uttered a choking gasp and turned crimson almost to her earlobes, while she stared with consternation at the mockingly smiling Amazon.
"You don't answer, Myra. But it's a perfectly simple question and I'm sure you should have an answer. Well, what do you say to it?"
"I ... I don't think any grownup person would act like an immature child," Myra Castlebar at last managed to reply in a low, trembling voice.
Madame Helga leaned back in her swivel chair, savoring the moment of confrontation to the very last. Then she drawled, "Well, since we have been speaking hypothetically till now, let's get down to specific cases. I say, Myra Castlebar, that you have been guilty of naughtiness which I might expect from someone like Melita or even Sally, but certainly not from a young woman of your age whom I engaged to have charge of my pupils."
"Ohhhh!"
"Yes, I mean exactly that." The dominatress now leaned forward, her gloved hands clasped together on the front of her desk as she stared coldly at the astounded, blushing brunette. "You have just come to me and told me that you spent all your time in that room reading this manuscript, isn't that so?"
"Why, yes, I did . .
"But you couldn't have really read very much, yet you had quite a good deal of time there. I find only one or two errors marked on the proof sheets. So in a sense you lied to me, Myra. Worst than that, you did so to hide your own naughtiness."
"I don't understand what you mean."
"Then I will tell you. During the time you were in that room, Myra, you permitted yourself the very sinful luxury of playing with yourself, of lifting your skirt and rubbing your finger between your legs."
Myra Castlebar uttered a cry of dismay and clamped her hand instantly to her mouth, taking a step backward and staring at Madame Helga as if the latter were a supernatural being.
"You needn't bother to deny it or even to admit it, my dear," the dominatress laughed softly. "You see, throughout this school there is a closed-circuit television system which enables me to look into every room in these four buildings as well as to hear what goes on in them."
"Ohhhh ... oh my God!" Myra moaned.
"Exactly. Now, following your own admission that a mature teacher who commits the naughtiness of an adolescent pupil should be punished, have you anything to say as to why I should not myself inflict a proper punishment on you for the absolutely shameless conduct of yours back in Room 42D?"
Myra Castlebar could not speak. Tears stung her eyes, and she bowed her head and covered her face with her hands, while her dimpled round shoulders shook with suppressed sobs. The enormity of what Madame Helga had just revealed to her was absolutely annihilating, and she had absolutely no defense.
"I am sure, my dear," now the dominatress' voice took a kind almost benign tone, "that you certainly would not wish to have your colleagues in the school know about your naughtiness."
"Oh no ... please, don't ... don't! I ... what do you ... what are you going to do with me?"
Myra's voice trembled and broke as she groped for words to learn her fate.
"Since this is your really first offense as my employee, I propose to punish you in complete privacy. However, you will have to agree to submit completely to all my orders."
"If ... if I must, I ... I would rather have you do that, but please tell me! I'm so ashamed! What ... what are you going to do to me?"
"I think you can guess, my dear. What did you do to Melita when she was insolent and naughty in your class? And wasn't it effective? Since that time, you have admitted her conduct has been excellent. Well then, it follows, since you are a mature and sensitive woman, the humiliating punishment given to a child will have even better effect with you, since the humiliation is certain to be more intense."
"You ... you're going to spank me?" Myra gasped, her eyes huge with disbelief.
"Of course," Madame Helga continued, "if you prefer a public punishment....."
"Oh ... oh, for heaven's sake no, Madame Helga! I ... I'll do what you want ... only please ... can we ... can we get it over with ... I'm so terribly ashamed! Oh, this is dreadful..." Myra wailed, twisting her slim fingers together in her agitation.
"Very well then. Come along, my dear. I'm going to take you into my little salon, and there you must agree to do whatever you are told, or otherwise I shall be forced to make an example of you before all the staff. Naturally, not in front of the pupils, because that would destroy your authority over them at once. But I do not think you would care to have, shall we say, Dorothea or perhaps Homer Grange watch you receive a good spanking on your bare bottom."
"Oh no! I promise ... oh don't do that to me! I ... I'll submit to anything, only not that!" Myra groaned again.
Helga Danielson rose, her black satin gown clinging to the voluptuous sculptuary of her magnificent, tall body. Beckoning to the trembling Myra Castlebar, who was at the point of tears, she compelled the young woman to follow her down the hallway of her apartment to a wide metal door, which she opened by pressing her finger to a button at one side of the door. When it slid back, Myra's tear-clouded eyes dimly made out a spacious room without any windows, with a luxurious and extremely wide low couch off to the left against the wall, several straight-backed chairs, and directly in the middle, the very same apparatus she had seen in the testing room ... a metal isosceles triangle.
Beside the triangle stood a teakwood chest, somewhat larger that the coffer from which Dorothea Bunson had taken the feather and the leather paddle. Madame Helga closed the door by touching a similar button on the inner wall, and then turned to the young woman. "Now then, Myra, you will strip naked except for your stockings and garter belt and pumps," she directed.
"Oh please ... must I?" A groan of despair from the young woman's very soul accompanied that agonized question.
"You must! It is that or a public atonement for your naughtiness, Myra."
Slowly the beautiful young woman began to obey. The yellow cotton dress was drawn over her head and dropped onto the floor from nerveless fingers.
"Now the slip, please," Madame Helga directed.
After a moment of hesitation, Myra complied, and stood in the exquisite under-outfit of matching white nylon bra and panties, with a white satin, elastic garter belt sending its two narrow tabs along each creamy thigh to hook to the tops of the unwrinkled charcoal-brown nylon hose.
"The bra and panties, now!" was the command. Myra was able to manage the bra, but when it floated to the floor and her high-perched ripe ivory tits shudderingly rose and fell to expose their unadorned loveliness to the glittering eyes of Madame Helga, the young woman uttered a cry of despairing shame and huddled her arms over them.
"Now your panties, and be quick about it," Madame Helga said sternly. "Just as with my young pupils, I shall expect the same obedience from you, Myra. Delay, argument, revolt, are invariably punished with an extra ration, you know. But I was forgetting-you certainly weren't able to read the last few proof sheets, busy as you were in that room."
This sly and suggestive quip made poor Myra's cheeks flame anew, and with a groan of despair, she at last lowered her hands and began to drag down the final veil. The thick black bush of her cunt, the creamy roundness of her virgin ass, came into view as at last the panties were about her ankles, she stepped out of them and immediately clamped one hand over her virgin cunt.
Helga Danielson had gone to the chest and opened it, taken out a black bandanna, and was now approaching. "I'm going to blindfold you, Myra."
"Oh, please don't ... I ... I'll be brave! I'll take ... I'll take what you give me. I won't resist ... but please don't do that!"
"Remember I told you, you were to obey me without question once you agreed to submit to save yourself the humiliation of a public punishment," the dominatress reminded the trembling naked young woman. "I can still call my staff to my apartment and let them watch your atonement for such a childish and naughty act which I might expect of a girl like Myra, but certainly not from a mature woman like you. Well?"
Myra bowed her head and burst into soft choking sobs as Madame Helga expertly drew the bandanna over her eyes and knotted it at the back of the young woman's head. Then, taking her by the wrist, she led her forward to the triangle, ordered her to lift her arms, and, mounting the footstool just as Dorothea Bunson had done with her two culprits, swiftly bound Myra's wrists together to the metal peak of the apparatus.
A few moments later, despite her frantic supplications to be spared this ignominious shame, Myra found her ankles spread widely apart and tied equally tight to the ends of the base of the triangle.
Thus straddled hugely and tractioned, the magnificent creamy glories of her nakedness were boldly and defenselessly laid bare.
"I will leave you to meditate for a few moments, Myra, and then I shall punish you," Madame Helga murmured. She walked silently towards the door, pushed the button which let it roll back on itself, and Murray Bannister and his golden-haired niece entered. She put a warning finger to her lips, and both of them nodded.
Then she went out into the corridor and retraced her steps back to her apartment, where at once she turned on the tv set to the channel that let her see the room in which Myra Castlebar was to endure the transfiguration into fulfilled womanhood.
Murray Bannister wore only his bathrobe over thin pajamas, and sandals, while his lovely young niece wore a pair of green silk pajamas and high-heeled pumps. He gestured to Carol, who, forcing herself not to utter a sound, tiptoed to the chest and carefully opened it. Murray stared into its contents, observing hairbrushes, straps, a three-thonged martinet, several long feathers, a leather paddle and other devices intended for the voluptuous chastisement of the female.
He pointed to one of the feather's, and Carol nodded and seized it. Moving in front of Myra, she began to tickle the young woman's bare boobs, concentrating on the nipples. Startled gasps and then anguished little sighs and sobs broke from Myra's lips as she began uneasily to twist and shift herself, believing of course that Madame Helga was humiliatingly abusing her in this suspense-ridden way before the actual infliction of the shameful but certain to be painful juvenile punishment with which she had been threatened.
Murray could no longer contain himself, and took the other feather and planted himself behind the naked young, creamy-skinned brunette. Just as Carol's feather reached Myra's navel, Murray Bannister applied his along the groove of her bottom cheeks, and the spread-eagled, tethered, naked young woman uttered a piercing cry of consternation. "Ohhh ... what are you doing to me ... oh, please ... if you must spank me, do it and end it, I beg of you! Oh, this is shameful, this is just dreadful!"
But now Carol's feather began to glide delicately up and down the insides of Myra's hugely straddled thighs, while Murray Bannister persisted in gliding the tip of the evanescent white plume along the crease which separated Myra Castlebar's voluptuous virgin ass-cheeks.
Still believing it was Madame Helga who was thus doubly attacking her, poor Myra began to jerk and throw herself against her bonds, her body straining and lunging in every possible direction. But the feathers relentlessly pursued her, till at last Carol, who had to keep a hand over her mouth to contain herself, directed her feather against the gaping lips of Myra Castlebar's virgin cunt.
At the same moment, her uncle maneuvered his feather so the tip began to rub against Myra's puckering, maiden ass-hole.
"Ahhh ... oh, God! oh, God, won't you please stop! I can't stand this ... please ... spank me, oh do it, punish me and get it over with, this is cruel to torture a woman so. How can you do this to another woman, Madame Helga?"
Carol drew up a hassock, seated herself on it, and put her slim hands to her former tutoress' naked hips. Then Carol, without warning, leaned forward and began to kiss and suck Myra Castlebar's furry cunthole.
With a squeal of indignation and shame, Myra Castlebar tried to lunge her bottom backwards, only to met by a resounding slap from Murray Bannister's right palm which flattened the summit of her right ass-cheek and drove her forward back to Carol's oral administrations.
"Oh what is this ... please don't do that to me. ... it's shameful! Stop ... I can't stand it ... please ... oh, Madame Helga, I beseech you ... don't ... ahhhhhhh..." Myra moaned almost inarticulately.
Murray Bannister paused and flung off his bathrobe, then opened the fly of his pajama pants to let his bulging prick emerge. Meanwhile, he gestured to Carol to continue the good work, and the artful teenager now thrust her pink tongue between the lips of Myra's quim and then, swirling it around and around, drew it out, only to attack Myra's pulsating tickler.
A wild, prolonged cry of anguished shame and despair broke from the naked sufferer as she threw herself about madly, till the triangle creaked its protest.
Now again Murray Bannister began to spank her bottom, alternating on the cheeks with vigorous and noisy slaps from his open palm.
But since Myra's lunges had by now become too frantic and desultory, Carol gripped her former tutoress by the hips, digging her fingertips into the soft creamy flesh, while she continued to tongue fuck Myra's sensitive and hardening clit.
Half-hysterical with shame and the secret torment which now besieged her psyche as well as her flesh, Myra Castlebar once again implored mercy, still addressing herself to the dominatress.
But Carol's tongue gouged, flattened and thrust and rimmed her stiffening clitoris, until Myra Castlebar was almost beside herself, long spasms racing along her calves and thighs, making her ass-cheeks contract and then yawn uncontrollably.
Murray had halted his spanking operation for a time to watch his young niece perform cunnilingus on this mature young woman, a sight which thrilled him inexpressibly and made his prick ready to burst with pent-up longing. As he observed Myra's convulsive wrigglings and heard her voice change into almost hysterical babbling and shrill squeals and moaning sobs, he knew his niece had drawn her almost to hot come. Making another sign, he had Carol move away, which she did with a pouting moue of disappointment. Then, standing in front of the spread-eagled, tractioned and naked young instructress, he boldly cupped her cantaloupe-like tits with both hands and greedily and lingeringly fondled and squeezed them, while he pressed his prick against the hairy slit of her virgin cunthole-for her time had come!
"Ohhh ... what are you doing! Oh, God, please, please won't you spank me and get it over with, oh, I'm just dying of shame, I can't stand this awful torture!" Myra moaned.
With another sign, he directed his niece to take both feathers and go behind the wriggling naked brunette, and Carol eagerly obeyed. A moment later, poor Myra felt the feathers rub along the groove of her ass-hole and into her armpits, so her struggles became jerky and frantic, making her thighs and loins contract and spasm in the most wanton way imaginable. All the while, Murray Bannister kept his prickhead pressed against the aperture of her virgin cunthole, till finally he felt himself edge inside.
"Now, Myra, I'm going to give you a better opinion of me," he suddenly said.
Myra Castlebar uttered a frenzied cry and with all her might tried to fling herself backwards, realizing at last what the object was that had just slipped inside the twitching lips of her vulva.
But Carol, prepared for just a contingency, applied a stinging smack with the back of a plastic hairbrush, forcing Myra to lunge forward.
Murray Bannister now, gripping her by the tits, crushed his mouth on hers and thrust himself against her cherry.
Sputtering and gasping, trying to twist her mouth free so she could cry for help, Myra found herself unable to do so. Carol increased the tempo of the spanking, applying spank upon spank all over the reddening creamy ass-cheeks, and forcing poor Myra to arch forward to escape the burning sting.
Murray Bannister held fast, unyieldingly presenting his prick, till at last Myra felt herself pierced and devirginized.
"Now that we've eliminated that obstacle, honey, let's you and I fuck!" he mouthed. "You fought me ah this time, Myra, but you've really been jealous about Carol and me because you wanted me to do this to you, admit it!"
"Oh, you horrible brute ... no I won't ... that's a he! Ahrrr ... oh, my God, who's spanking me, oh, it hurts, it hurts!"
"That happens to be Carol. But if you'll promise to be a good sweet girl, she'll use the feathers on you and work you up. You'll be surprised how passionate you're going to get before I'm finished with you, honey," Murray Bannister hoarsely declared.
Now that the momentary twinge of virginal loss had vanished, Myra Castlebar knew the loss was irrevocable. She was helpless and bound before this awful man and his impertinent young niece. But Murray put his finger to her clit and began to rub it gently, while gradually drawing in and out of her tight cunt. And when Carol resumed with both feathers, Myra Castlebar began to sob and groan, unable to hold back the frantic desires that were flooding her body ... desires which had been roused in that room where Murray himself had watched the initiation fucking of a handsome, young, teenaged couple.
At his sign, Carol stopped spanking and resumed with the feathers. Now they fleeted along the shuddering, shadowy groove between Myra's bottom cheeks, along her sides, the outer curves of her boobs, her armpits and her neck, then back along the backs of her shuddering, straddled thighs. Every nerve was flowering, and the sensation of being totally unleashed began gradually to take possession of her, destroying all will to revolt or to threaten ... leaving only the yearning to go down this pathway to its finite end and discover the new world of fucking passion.
"Ohhh ... oh, God, I'm going to faint! oh, Mr. Bannister....."
"You can call me Murray now, honey, I think we're intimate enough for that," he interrupted with a hoarse laugh of triumph. Then, his mouth taking possession of hers, his tongue drove between her lips as, one finger rimming her clit, the other hand fondling one of her heaving boobs, he began to fuck her slowly and expertly.
And finally the miracle came about. Her body, shuddering and shaking, uncontrollable spasms rippling through her, Myra Castlebar uttered a shriek of bliss as she felt herself melt with crisis, since at that very moment Murray Bannister's bubbling spunk lashed the walls of her sensitive womb....
Quite a long hour later, after Myra had been untied from the triangle and led over to a couch, where Carol lay beside her cuddling and kissing, Murray Bannister took the naked young instructress into his arms and murmured, "You still have a lot to learn, but I'm going to marry you so I can devote plenty of time to your education. And you're going to go on teaching here, because what you've learned already has made you enjoy this instead of hating my guts ... admit it, darling!"
Myra Castlebar was scarlet with blushes. Even though her face was averted, she could not help nodding. She had never known such delights. And now (the thrilling naughty thought enchanted her) she would no longer have to be afraid of expressing the needs of her lush young body, not when she had so virile and demanding a husband and so naughty and so provocative a niece.
"Oh Murray, yes, I'll marry you, but love me first," she breathed as she reached for him.
And even as his prick sank back into her eager, throbbing cunt, Myra Castlebar was planning on how she would have her own sweet revenge on naughty Carol. She and Murray would contrive to give Carol a good sound spanking and then make the naughty girl use her mouth and tongue on both of them to prepare them for their own unleashed flights of lustful bliss!
