The young girl shook her head in disbelief and fought back her tears. The tall, heavy-chested woman behind the desk in the spartanly furnished office had ordered her to remove her clothing. It was incredible!
"You have much to learn about Mt. Arcadia School, Deborah," Madame Martel said in the same stern voice. "I'm rather surprised that you've been here an entire week and are still not fully aware that corporal punishment is part of our doctrine."
"I... I heard something, but I haven't done anything!" the girl cried.
"Miss Duke reports that you've been sloppy and inattentive. That may be tolerated at other schools, but not here. You've had a week to learn the rules. Obviously, you've chosen to ignore them. You're going to be punished for that and also as a warning for the future. Now I repeat, remove your clothing! Defiance will only increase the punishment."
For the first time, Debbie was truly frightened. She was old enough to recognize the difference between a threat and a promise. She looked around at Miss Duke who stood slightly behind her. She had thought of the teacher and dorm supervisor as a plain but pretty female, somewhat demanding but not intractable. Now Miss Duke's expression was as cold and set as Madame Martel's. Slowly, she began to fumble with the buttons of her cardigan sweater. As directed, she put the garment on the desk. She unzipped her wool skirt and stepped out of it. She pulled off her loafers and removed her knee-length wool socks. All that remained were her bra and panties. She looked up again at her disciplinarians. Her eyes were brimmed with tears. "Please, please! Don't make me do this! I'll change. I'll be good, I promise!"
Her pleas fell on ears and faces of stone. She unhooked her bra. Her breasts, firm, pink nippled, and well developed for her sixteen years, fell free. At that moment she thought she had never felt so humiliated, but it was only the beginning. When she slid her panties down over her smooth legs, she became acutely aware of the awkwardness of the position and what the view must look like to Miss Duke standing behind her.
"Very well," Madame Martel said when the panties were added to the pile of clothing on the desk. The tall, hauntingly beautiful woman walked around the desk and circled the young girl. "You have an attractive body, Deborah. It shows promise. I trust that you think enough of your own attractiveness that you wouldn't want your body marked." When the girl shook her head fearfully, she continued, "Very wise of you. For that reason and because this is your first visit to me, I shall only spank you tonight." The words caused Debbie to tremble. She felt small and insignificant and utterly exposed in the presence of the two fully dressed females. No one had ever spanked her before, not even her parents. Only boys she'd dated had ever laid their hands on her bare flesh. She was suddenly chilled. She was conscious that her nipples had reacted to the cold and were taut and hard. Unconsciously, she crossed her arms to cover them.
"Put your hands down!" Madame Martel snapped. "Stand there while I look at you. That's better. Hmmm, yes, very attractive for your age. I imagine all those young men you were fucking thought so."
"What. .. what are you talking about?" Debbie was as much shocked by the coarse word as she was by the statement.
"We make it a point to know why the parents of our students send them here. We know all about your promiscuity, your whoring, if you prefer. There are no secrets between the parents and the school, or the school and the students. It makes our discipline more clear-cut in certain cases. But we'll not go into that now. You're here because of your present attitude, not your past errors. Prepare yourself for your first taste of what Mt. Arcadia School is all about. Miss Duke, bring the chair."
The teacher crossed the room and pulled forward a heavy, straight-backed chair. Madame Martel promptly sat on it, arranging her skirt so that it did not wrinkle. This caused her solid, nylon-clad thighs to be exposed to the stocking tops. The straps and clasps of a black garter belt peeked from under the skirt hem. She smoothed her stockings and said, "Bring Deborah to me, Miss Duke."
Debbie's elbow was firmly grasped and she was led to the seated woman. Still trembling fearfully, she was urged to lay herself over the exposed thighs. The skin of her breasts and her belly tingled at the touch of the nylon. She let her weight fall. She was pushed forward, pushed so that the smooth pink moon of her pert young ass rode prominently high on the madame's lap. She was ordered to grasp the lower rung of the chair, and Miss Duke was ordered to hold her ankles. She held her breath, still only half believing the nightmarish degradation.
Smack! She winced at the first stinging spank, and a cry, not of hurt but of despair, came from her lips. Smack! The second blow on the other cheek was even harder. Then came a series of well-placed, openhanded blows. The madame alternated the spanking from cheek to cheek. Now Debbie felt real pain. The spanking was becoming more intense. "Oh, God! No more, please!"
"Silence! Screaming will only get you more!"
As Debbie squirmed under the cruel slaps, she would have been even more terrified had she been able to see the hot, fanatical gleam in the madame's eyes and her twisted smile. Miss Duke, too, was a picture of perverse pleasure with her close-up view of the inflamed ass--and even more her line of sight between the back of the girl's thighs above which the anal opening puckered.
Debbie felt the heat from the blows engorge her. She was aflame with pain and anguish. She also felt another heat; the damp warmth that seemed to rise up to her belly from the madame's thighs. As she writhed under the blows, she was creating a friction with her skin and the nylon. Crazily, that sensation was pleasing. And the more numb her ass became from the spanking, the more she focused her attention on what was happening beneath her. She was positioned so that the top of her cunt, just where her fine blonde pubic hair was thickest, was pushed tightly against the thigh. If anyone had ever told her that there was anything sexual about a spanking, she would have laughed. But now she was confused. It shouldn't be happening, but... the fire from her ass had penetrated to her depths. Her clitoris ached in a different way. As she clenched her teeth and concentrated on that aspect of her torture, her love button seemed to grow. Yes, it was swollen and exposed! It was just like it was when a boy caressed her cunt without first removing her panties. The rubbing by the madame's nylons was having the very same effect. She didn't understand it, but she knew she was getting wet.
Madame Martel knew it, too. She smiled and signaled Miss Duke to pull the girl's ankles apart, spreading her upper thighs and the crevice of her ass. Then she laid her spanks down with the utmost care. Her slaps went lower and deeper to the inside of the thighs. She came closer and closer to Debbie's sex, and on certain stinging blows her fingertips actually reached the anal rosebud and the lower exposed portion of the chubby cuntlips. The girl was moaning between her teeth. She was squirming feverishly in order to push the hardened knot of her clitoris into the nylon-clad thigh. To continue much longer would cause an orgasm.
The spanker knew her art well. Indeed, the ultimate goal was to have the girl achieve sexual pleasure from punishment; but it did not suit her purposes to have it happen so quickly. Humiliation was equally important. The madame deliberately smacked Debbie's cunt.
"What! She's wet! Miss Duke, do you see that!" The tall woman pushed her hand coarsely into the folds of Debbie's cunt. "Why, the little bitch is soaking wet. We've been punishing her for her own good, and she's lying there enjoying it. Let go of her, Miss Duke. You, get on your feet."
Debbie slid off the woman's thighs, wide-eyed with fright. Her legs were weak and she staggered slightly. Her ass and thighs were aglow with pain. That wasn't the cause of her newest fear, however. AU her pain had served to do was infuriate the madame. "I... I couldn't help it!" she blurted.
"I couldn't help it," Madame Martel mocked her. "Now she lies. Miss Duke, examine her and see for yourself what this filthy child was up to. I want a witness to this."
Miss Duke, her face icily recomposed, stepped up to Debbie. "Spread your legs," she ordered. When the girl had complied, the teacher reached down and probed the girl's sex with a long, insinuating forefinger. She pushed the digit into the tender flesh to the second knuckle. The girl gasped and stiffened. Miss Duke paid no attention. She worked her finger in and out and up and down. She brought it up to the still swollen clit and pushed harshly on the tender nub. "You're absolutely right. She's sodden. She must have thought this was all a game devised for her own dirty enjoyment."
"No, please!" Debbie cried plaintively. "I didn't know what was happening. I hurt so!" Then she broke into tears before she said any more. She had never been so mortified. To be examined like a piece of meat. To have another woman's finger in her cunt. To have been battered and now scorned.
"Tell the truth, Deborah," Madame Martel demanded. "You toyed with us, didn't you? You used your punishment for your own perverse little pleasure, didn't you?"
"No, no! I don't even know what you mean!"
At that time, Miss Duke tweaked the girl's clitoris cruelly. "You don't know what this is?" she said with heavy sarcasm. "Answer the madame. The truth now."
"All right, all right! I got hot," Debbie wailed. "But I didn't know what was happening. I couldn't help myself, truly . . .you must believe me!"
Miss Duke removed her finger and stepped back from the girl. The madame, still seated, crossed her legs and ordered Debbie to come forward. The tall woman pointed to the faint, damp stains on her stockings. "You see what you've done, Deborah. You've soiled these. That was very nasty of you." The girl mumbled a feeble apology. "That's not quite enough. I want you to take these stockings and return them to me tomorrow freshly laundered. Now remove them."
Debbie was first required to remove the madame's shoes. She hadn't noticed them before, but she saw that they were black patent pumps with an extraordinarily high heel. Then she saw that the madame wasn't going to assist her in the task. The woman had pushed forward in the seat and hiked her skirt even higher. Debbie's fingers trembled as she reached for a garter clasp. She was bent over so closely that she could not help but notice that the madame wore no panties. More incredible to the young girl's mind, however, was the fact that the woman's cunt was completely shaved of all pubic hair. Thick, pale pink lips bulged out from a Venus mound of alabaster skin. Debbie had seen other girls before, in gym classes and at house parties, but the bold sight of this mature woman was a revelation. She could not understand her fascination. She hurriedly fumbled on with the removal of the stockings.
"Now you can get dressed," Madame Martel said. "When you return the stockings tomorrow, you and I will have a talk. I want to know more about this odd ability of yours to find pleasure in your punishment. And I'll want you to be completely candid with me. If not, I'll have to take you to Doctor Slade, the headmaster, who is also a psychiatrist. I'm certain it would be far less embarrassing for you to confide in me. Also, it seems we made a mistake by giving you a room to yourself. From this moment on, well put you in with an older girl, upper form, who can give you guidance. Miss Duke, I don't think Jan Carlton has a roommate. Please see that she takes charge of Deborah. Under the circumstances, I don't think tonight will be any too soon."
Debbie had her back turned as she hooked on her bra. She did not see the smirking look that passed between the two women when the name of her new roommate was mentioned.
CHAPTER TWO
"Oh, you poor kid!" Jan Carlton murmured as she saw Debbie Strathmore's angry flesh. The older girl, a vivacious green-eyed redhead of eighteen, was helping her new roommate undress. "Mad Martie really laid it on you," she said, hanging Debbie's clothes in a closet. "The first time is always the roughest."
Debbie was sobbing quietly, remembering the pain and humiliation, but she was also thankful of Jan's spontaneous kindness. "You mean it happens all the time?"
"Sure" Jan shrugged. "But you get used to it." She was tempted to add, but didn't, that you even got to like it. She continued to fuss over Debbie, her solicitousness camouflaging the deep excitement that welled up in her. They had promised her a reward and Debbie was it. Jan drank in the sight of the younger girl's lithe, shapely body aryl her blonde looks. Cute, she thought, and so tender. It was difficult to restrain herself. She wanted to take the girl into her arms and crush those pink-tipped titties into her own.
"... and I'll bring my own things up in the morning," Debbie was saying, "if I can just take a shower and borrow a pair of pajamas for tonight."
Jan shook her head. "No, listen to big sister. I should know how to take care of a spanked ass, believe me. Pull back the sheets and lie down. I have some ointment that works miracles."
When she returned from the bathroom with a jar of medicated ointment, Debbie was stretched out as directed. Jan turned off the overhead light, leaving only a bed lamp to illuminate the girl's nakedness. She sat on the edge of the bed and tentatively touched the tormented flesh.
"Please, Jan, you don't have to do this. You've been so kind. I can manage."
"Not another word. We girls have to take care of one another. You'll get your chance, you know, to do the same for me." With that, she began rubbing the ointment into the cheeks of Debbie's ass. She spread the soothing salve gently, allowing her fingertips to knead the tissue like soft caresses. "Just relax," she said quietly. "There, that feels better already, I'll bet."
Debbie murmured gratefully. Yes, it felt wonderful; the lingering pain was dissolving and being replaced by a warm tingle. Jan had marvelous hands. They were so authoritative yet so consoling. This is the third time tonight, she thought, that another female has touched my naked body. But this time it was with tenderness, and Debbie welcomed it and felt close to her new friend.
Jan spread the ointment over the roundness of the cheeks and onto the backs of the upper thighs. She fought herself to keep her hands from trembling. The lovely little cunt was nestled down there only inches away. And there was that beautiful asshole winking at her. Jan lusted after assholes. If she had learned nothing else at Mt. Arcadia School, it was that. She always thought back to the first time when Elaine--Miss Duke--suggested it. The teacher had promised that she would arrange for the madame to give Jan a special whipping if the girl were to kiss and lick her asshole prettily. Jan recalled her initial trepidation but also the delicious sense of being so grossly used. Also, how badly she wanted the madame's special treatment. It had worked out beyond her expectations.
Now she had been given a gift. She had to handle it properly or it would be taken away from her. She knew what the madame and Elaine and the others expected of her, and for that reason she controlled the temptation to plunge her face between the cheeks of Debbie's ass and burrow her tongue into the pale pink hole. Until the girl was properly prepared, the other, larger hole would have to do for a start. Jan let her fingers run up to the edge of the pubic hair that was available to her. "Oh, they spanked you there, too," she observed gently.
"It was awful," Debbie said. "They were horrible. They touched me and felt me and accused me of all sorts of things."
"You mean, your cunt got wet. No, don't be shocked. We're friends, we have to be frank with each other. What happened to you isn't unusual, I can tell you. Lots of girls react the same way to a whipping. The boys, too. They get whipped as much as we do. Some of them get hard-ons after a couple of smacks. And a good, solid thrashing makes a lot of people come. You didn't do that, did you? Come, I mean?"
"No, I... I didn't know what was happening. There was so much pain and yet I felt, you know, hot."
"Yes, I know. But don't let it scare you. Do you know that just sitting here, seeing where you've been spanked and talking about it has made me hot and wet? That's the truth. Look."
Jan turned and let the robe she was wearing fall open. She spread her legs so that Debbie, by looking over her shoulder, could see the glistening moisture in the fringe of reddish hair that surrounded the blushing flesh that surrounded Jan's clit. Debbie was startled by the sudden intimacy. She tried to stammer a reply but nothing came. For the second time in a couple of hours, she was looking close-up at another female's sex. Involuntarily, she felt herself comparing this new view to the shaven, ripe appearance of Madame Martel's. The odd sensation she had felt back in the office struck her again. She knew she was staring but she couldn't pull her eyes away.
"You see, you're not unique," Jan whispered forcefully. "Most of us girls here are the same. As I said, we help each other. There are ways."
When Jan had turned and opened her legs, she had not removed her hand from where it was resting in Debbie's crotch. She let a fingertip dally at the bottom corner of the girl's cunt. With her other hand, she touched her own sex lips. She saw the girl staring hotly as she rubbed herself. "You see how wet it is?" Her fingers were already damp and shiny. She could feel her clit rising. She moaned as she stroked it. At the same time, she was making similar movements with her own hand upon Debbie. For a minute, and it seemed far longer, neither girl spoke. Then Debbie uttered a small cry, squirmed on her belly, and spread her thighs apart to afford Jan free hand movements. It was the invitation the older girl was waiting for. "Just trust me, baby, and I'll show you how to make it all better. Turn over and let big sister show you how."
A part of Debbie's mind was numb while she heard the words and felt herself being stroked. She no longer disbelieved that anything so sexually weird could be happening to her. .Though she couldn't explain why, she knew she was going to let it happen. Despite her tender years, she already possessed a potent sexual appetite. It was that, in fact, which had caused her to be sent to Mt. Arcadia School in the first place. Rich and spoiled, she had discovered that she liked to fuck when she was twelve years old. It had never occurred to her that her parents knew or even cared of her sexual wildness. She had continued to date boys older than herself and found it exhilarating to turn them on, to have them fawning over her, to have them begging her to allow them to fuck her. She had loved both the excitement and the satisfaction of sex yet, upon reflection, it had all been as straight as an arrow.
Aside from allowing boys to eat her cunt and occasionally going down on them as a reward for a good performance, she had never indulged in anything except normal coitus. She was aware of lesbianism but was only mildly curious. She had vaguely heard of sadism and masochism, too, but those were too remote for more than a passing thought. Now she was suddenly confronted with lesbianism and she instinctively knew that the other perverseness had surfaced earlier that night. Still, if one thing had been made clear during her first week at Mt. Arcadia, it was that the boys and girls were strictly sexually segregated. If she wanted any sex at all, she was going to have to adapt herself to what was available. Jan was more than available.
"Don't be scared," Jan whispered as she crawled into the bed next to Debbie.
"I am, just a little ... I've never done this before."
The older girl shushed her and pulled her into her arms. Their lips met and they kissed gently at first, gradually opening their mouths wider and letting their tongues roam. Jan sighed as she felt the pressure of the younger girl's tits. They were both about the same size except that Jan's nipples, now hard and pointed, were thicker and longer. That slight advantage pleased the older girl. She knew from experience the exquisite pleasure she received when her breasts were being punished. She'd always thought it was largely due to her oversized nipples. It was something that her new roommate might not understand.
Jan cupped one of Debbie's breasts and broke the kiss. "Did they slap your tits?" she asked, now curious. Debbie shook her head. Jan smiled inwardly and added, "Well, sometimes they do that. It hurts, too, like mad, but after a while it's really groovy. Then afterwards, the greatest thing of all is to let one of the girls suck them. If they ever do it to you, I'll take care of them for you and you'll know what I mean. For a sample ..." Before Debbie could protest, Jan abruptly slid down and took one of the young girl's nipples between her lips. She began a strong suction along with a pulling movement. Gradually, she took more and more of the flesh into her mouth. She knew she was pleasing herself as much as, or more than, her partner. However, she didn't mind being a little greedy--especially since she wouldn't go after the girl's young, sweet asshole on the very first night.
To compensate for her own oral indulgence, Jan lavishly fingered Debbie's cunt. Every stroke into the tight, coral hole produced an increased flow of juices. She avoided the clit, sensing that it would produce an orgasm far too soon. After what she had been through earlier, the girl might have only one good pop in her, Jan thought. She wanted that to be special.
"Fingerfuck me, Debbie, please. Work my clit. I'm so hot. Please."
Not knowing what had been expected of her, Debbie had hesitated to touch Jan. Now, with this invitation, she went at it willingly. The only cunt she had ever felt was her own. She was familiar with the touch of the flesh and the texture of the inner walls. She knew all the folds, the nooks, and the crannies. Her curiosity piqued, her own cunt on fire, she reached down swiftly to make the comparison. The heat and the extreme wetness thrilled her at first, but she became quickly absorbed with the velvety softness of the flesh. It was so smooth and sleek it seemed to glide and quiver under her fingers. Then she thought she could feel the cunt lips puff and swell as she applied more pressure. It was marvelous. The excitement of it welled up in her. There was nothing "dirty" to it at all. Rather, it freaked her out. It gave her hot vibrations that caused her own cunt-flesh to pulsate. She mumbled, "Oh, beautiful! It's just beautiful. I never knew."
Then Debbie uttered a sound of surprise when she touched Jan's clitoris for the first time. She had never realized that a clit could be so big and hard. It was like a small, slick pebble high in the cleft. It almost burned at the touch. A thrill ran through her when she felt Jan shudder as the love nub was teased. How beautiful it was to please another person! All of her young sex life, she had never really thought of the other person. She had assumed that the young men that fucked her had been satisfied enough to drop their loads. The only thing that had really concerned her was the depth and intensity of her own orgasms. But now, for the first time, she could relate to another person. She instinctively knew the pleasure she was giving because she was simultaneously receiving it. She had three of Jan's long fingers plunging into her and she was wiggling wildly under the assault. "My clit," she breathed raggedly, "do mine like I'm doing yours!"
"Not with my fingers," was the reply. The older girl immediately slid further down on the bed and wedged her body between Debbie's legs. Then she pulled herself upwards and closer, resting the legs over her shoulders. She tugged on Debbie so that the girl's body was inclined and only her head and shoulders remained on the mattress. Pushing more closely, Jan took one of Debbie's hands and showed her how she could continue to fingerfuck her while she was being eaten. The moment Debbie resumed her stroking of the tremendously engorged clitoris, Jan bent her head, drew the waiting cunt to her lips, and licked hungrily.
The first touch of the tongue sinking into the moist folds triggered a violent shudder of ecstasy. Debbie moaned the undeniable pleasure. She grabbed for a breast and squeezed. She fingered and fondled--changed hands--smearing the cunt juices from one tit to another. And all the time Jan's tongue thrashed in her so wildly, it felt like a voracious animal on a rampage deep inside her. Then the older girl's lips closed over her clit and nearly caused her to have an instant convulsion. She felt the orgasm rising within her. It was as if someone were pumping up a burning balloon in her guts. "Oh, yes, yes. . . yes!!"
Jan pulled her mouth up abruptly. "Not yet!" she whispered fiercely. She wiggled out from between Debbie's legs. She was trembling with her own passion. She had gone too far to be denied her own pleasure. With Miss Duke and some of the other upper form girls, it was always she who provided the orgasms. But the others knew how to make her do it, how to make her beg for the opportunity to do it. Debbie didn't know any of that yet. And until she did, she was going to provide the pleasures that the others denied.
She moved slowly up the bed on her hands and knees. She crouched above Debbie's head. "First me, baby!" she said with surprising intensity. "Big sister comes first." She was prepared to force the girl, but she was secretly relieved when Debbie spontaneously lifted her head and began licking and sucking greedily. Jan moved closer and moaned as she fitted the girl's mouth more perfectly to her cunt. She could sense Debbie's inexperience, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was that the aching would be gone. She rocked her pelvis back and forth, putting more weight on the loving lips and tongue. She timed the movements so that the strokes would hit her clitoris. In a minute, Debbie got the idea and sucked on it ferociously. Jan shook in pleasure.
"Bite it! Use your teeth! Go on, bite it!"
Debbie responded, nibbling and gnawing. The clit felt huge between her teeth. Like a cock. She remembered a boy who had asked her to drag the edges of her teeth over his cock. She did the same to Jan's clit, and the older girl squealed in ecstasy. In what seemed like a single motion, Jan spun around on the bed so swiftly that Debbie barely lost contact with the cunt. Now Jan was in a position to use her mouth, too. And she did, with a ferocity that took Debbie's breath away. They squirmed and sucked and bit until both of them exploded with eruptive, flowing orgasms!
In her suite in the same dormitory, Miss Duke turned off the communications' receiver that, coupled with a secret microphone, had just carried the words and sounds of the sexual clash to her ears. She smiled smugly, picked up a phone, and dialed an extension number.
"Jan did quite well," she said. "I don't think we'll have much trouble with Debbie Strathmore."
Madame Martel's voice came back, "Very good. She has a lot of promise. If we can bring her along to where Jan is, it will be a complete success."
CHAPTER THREE
Bradford Hudson stood in the window of Dr. Slade's office and looked out over the campus of Mt. Arcadia School. It was a bleak view. The trees were mid-January stark and bare. The wind whipped over the remote mountain top site. Beyond the five stolid buildings that made up the campus, there was nothing but the hazy shape of other Appalachian mountains. The few rural towns that snuggled in the valleys could not be seen. It had been in one of those towns where Hudson had earlier disembarked from a bus and had been transported some thirty miles in a school station wagon by a strangely silent driver. Even the clerk in the grocery store which served as the bus depot could answer no questions about the school. He only knew that at one time it had been a Bible seminary, that it had remained closed for a long time, and that it had been reopened three years ago.
Hudson, a handsome lean young man of thirty, was confused and perplexed. He had been solicited as an English instructor. Indeed, that was his profession, but it was also a fact that he could no longer find work in his chosen career either in public or in private schools. The letter from Dr. Slade of Mt. Arcadia had been a godsend. But he could not, for the life of him, understand why the offer had been made. He knew he was on the blacklist of nearly every teacher's association in the country. Because of the scandal, he had no recommendations. The scandal, he thought bitterly ...
The scandal had arisen out of a combination of fate, stupidity, and his own twisted sexual arrogance. He remembered it all very clearly and painfully. It had happened the night the orgy was postponed. He and three senior students formed a group. There was Ellie, a leggy, vivacious blonde with the curves of a vixen. There was Maryanne, a pixie like bundle of curves and a true sexual extrovert. And Doug, a handsome young man, popular with the girls, but who possessed a wider, more secretive set of instincts. Of course it was wrong, immoral, and outrageous for a teacher to be sexually involved with students. But Hudson had never looked at it quite that way. He liked sex; he liked group sex; he liked experimentation, both heterosexual and homosexual. When Ellie first propositioned him, he jumped at the chance. When the others were brought into their trysts he felt he had found sexual nirvana. They'd had three orgies at Hudson's cabin on a lake near the town where he taught. It was the fourth that was postponed.
Ellie had called him at a local tavern where a few of the young teachers hung out after school. Her parents, due to drive that night to the university where her older brother played football, had delayed their trip until the following day. It wouldn't have mattered--he would have been satisfied with Maryanne and Doug for the night. But Ellie was persuasive.
"Brad, darling, could you all please wait until tomorrow? Oh, I know it sounds horribly selfish, but I want to be the first to have your beautiful cock."
"Yeah, that is being selfish," he had replied. "What do the others say?"
"They'll wait," Ellie insisted. "I talked to them. They promised. They want it to be all four of us like it was the other times. Please, darling, please?"
"All right, Ellie, we'll do it your way. For you."
"Thank you, darling, so much! I just couldn't bear thinking of the three of you, I just couldn't bear spending the night alone!"
He wasn't happy about the postponement. It left him with an empty Friday night. Morosely, he had gone back to the bar but the only teacher left drinking was Roger Hollis, an effete individual who, Hudson knew conclusively, was a frustrated, neurotic homosexual. Perversely, Hudson toyed with the idea of letting Hollis attempt a seduction. He was positive that he could be persuaded--hell, intimidated--to play a groveling, submissive sexual role. Just for kicks, he had thought something different. He went so far as to encourage Horns to make a pitch.
Then, out of the blue; the school librarian, Liz Carter, showed up at the bar by herself. Miss Carter, it was universally acknowledged, had the biggest set of tits in the entire town. That, plus the fact she was also a damn good-looking female, was added to the fact that Brad Hudson knew she had had her eye on him. He had never encouraged her because of the intricate involvement with his students. But in the back of his mind he had always played with the idea of seducing Liz Carter and then gradually involving her in the group. When she showed up that night, he made the snap decision to fuck her. Then he would see what developed. Since he had promised nothing to Hollis and had merely played with him, he cut the homosexual off. Hollis left the bar, angry and humiliated. Hudson had no way of knowing it, but that was the beginning of his undoing.
Hudson took Liz Carter out to dinner and dancing, then drove her to his cabin. It was he who was surprised by her eagerness. In the intimacy of their first embrace, she confessed to him that she'd had dreams and fantasies about his cock ever since she had seen the bulge in his crotch when he was playing tennis one day. And he responded by confessing to her a fantasy of his own: no woman he had ever had sex with possessed tits the size of hers; he would love to see her sucking her own nipples.
She obliged him. She pulled and tugged on the enormous mound of flesh and bent her head. Hudson knelt between her legs and helped her find her own nipple with her mouth. His erection was huge and potent as he watched. Then, as she sucked, he pushed it into her inch by inch. He plunged in and out and she gnawed from nipple to nipple. Finally, the sight of it was more than he could take. He had to do something different, something wild that sprung out of a dark place in his mind. He pulled out his prick and moved over her. She stopped sucking and pushed her breasts together to form a mound. Slowly he squeezed the slickened, glistening cock into the tight crevice. Liz Carter groaned and shoved on her breasts. He used his free hands to tweak and tug at her nipples as he rocked back and forth. Then he told her breathlessly, what he wanted to do next. For an answer, she licked her lips.
He pulled his bristling cock free, positioned it over her tits, and began jerking off. Moments later he came. Thick white globs of ejaculate spurted out and splattered over the mountainous tits. It dribbled down the sides and in between them. When he was drained, she lunged forward again and licked and slurped the stringy ejaculate off her globes and took the fat nipples in her mouth and greedily sucked off his seed. First one, then the other. And all the time Hudson masturbated, trying to add more fuel to the fire. Only a trickle oozed out of his blunt circumcision and that he reserved for Miss Carter's lips. She sucked him down the depths of her throat and kept him there until he came again.
But that was only the beginning of the evening. Hudson had no way of knowing that Ellie's parents changed their minds and decided to leave town that night after all. The three students got together and, thinking Hudson was alone, drove out to the cabin. They walked in, hot for an orgy, only to find Hudson with six inches of his prick up Miss Carter's ass.
The librarian nearly panicked in embarrassment, but Hudson held her and talked to her and explained the circumstances, trying to convince her that group sex was the greatest thing imaginable. The three students were also kind and empathetic. After she'd had a drink, she didn't see them as giggling, shuffling teenagers any longer. They praised her body and complimented her beauty. They were in awe of the magnificent proportions of her nakedness. Gradually, she was persuaded to stay. The persuasion was complete when she saw the students' young bodies. Ellie's tall and sensuous, Maryanne's small but dynamic, and Doug, not quite a man but with a man's cock. She welcomed them.
They began with Hudson eating Miss Carter's cunt and Doug licking her ass. Each of the girls fastened onto a tit. The tonguing and licking became so intense that she let go. She slipped into a state of sensuality that was like a divine revelation. Shortly, they all moved to the bed. Doug went between her legs and fucked her roundly. Hudson straddled her tits and once again pushed his cock between them. Each of the girls took advantage of Miss Carter's flashing fingers as they crouched close enough to lick her nipples. When she came, thrashing and moaning, Hudson knew that she was a confirmed member of the group.
What he did not know, however--never expected--was that Roger Hollis had come to his cabin that night, hoping crazily that Liz Carter would have excited him but left him sexually stranded. It was Hollis' irrational contention that he could provide erotic release for the young English teacher. Instead, as he hesitantly approached the cabin door, he saw the orgy that was taking place through a crack in the shutters. And what was worse than the bizarre sexual combinations involving the three students and the two teachers was the moment when Hudson and Doug put on a homosexual exhibition to the delight of the females. Hollis's mind boggled at the sight of them sucking each other off, anally fucking one another, and finally sixty-nining. In a frenzied rage and bent on revenge, he drove back to town and called the sheriff.
And that was the scandal, Hudson thought bitterly. Why then had he been called into the mountains to Mt. Arcadia School? Considering the positions that had been snatched away from him when they found out who he really was, he was a bundle of raw nerves when Dr. Slade entered the office.
The headmaster was a smallish man, round and pink with a receding hairline that gave him a professorial appearance. He shook Hudson's hand and asked him to be seated. On the desk before him was a folder. He browsed through it, frowning here and there and clucking his tongue at parts. Then, to Hudson's utter chagrin, Dr. Slade began reading aloud the eyewitness account of a deputy sheriff who had been one of those who barged in and broke up the fateful orgy at Hudson's cabin--down to the last bizarre detail!
Hudson was beyond protest. He slumped back in his chair in shock. To be blacklisted was one thing; to have a play-by-play description of the sorry incident thrown in his face was quite another. His ears burning, Hudson controlled himself until Dr. Slade was through. Trembling, he stood up. "If this is your idea of a practical joke, I'm not amused," he said through tight, grim lips. "I traveled hundreds of miles to come here ... with some hope. If you knew all about me, you could have had the decency to tell me not to come."
Dr. Slade's peal of laughter interrupted him. "Oh my!" the headmaster chuckled when he caught his breath. "You don't understand! You don't understand at all. Why, my boy, it is precisely because of your sordid record that I asked you to come. You're perfect for us. Perfect! You may consider yourself a member of our faculty as of this moment." He came briskly around the desk and led a very bewildered Bradford Hudson out of his office.
CHAPTER FOUR
Bradford Hudson was alone in his own quarters at last. If anything, he was more confused than ever as he unpacked his luggage. Following his initial meeting with Dr. Slade, he had been formally introduced to the rest of the faculty at a cocktail hour prior to dinner. He had still been numb from Dr. Slade's disclosure that his scandalous record was the foremost reason that he'd been hired. But the subject was not brought up again. Indeed, nothing that alluded to sexual behavior even entered into conversation afterward--unless one could consider the doctor's lengthy discourse over dinner on the merits of corporeal punishment in modern education.
Hudson had been asked at one point to give his own view. The others at the table seemed to be in complete agreement with the headmaster, and he had gone along. He had said that many times in public school he had wished that he'd been allowed to take a rod to a student's behind. The others seemed appreciative of his reply.
But what an odd faculty, he thought. There was Elaine Duke, who taught social science and history and also supervised the girls' dorm. Pretty in an indistinctive way, she looked to be in her early thirties. She had a soft, rounded body--the cuddly type. She wasn't his kind of woman at all. Hudson wrote her off as an academic introvert resigned to a godforsaken school in the middle of nowhere. Adele Hutton who wore the hats of school nurse, biology teacher, and girls' gym instructor was a more interesting possibility. She had the lean, tight figure of a female athlete, but the curves' were there to be seen. Hudson had known similar females who were explosive in the sex act. Then there was Warren Blake, mathematics, boys' gym, and dorm supervisor. He was too saccharine.
Immediately, Brad pegged him as a homosexual. Which probably explained, he thought, why he had ended up at Mt. Arcadia. Maybe they both had a scandal in common. And, of course, there was also Dr. Slade whom Brad discovered taught classical languages, Latin and Greek, in addition to his position as headmaster. Finally, there was the one person who truly fascinated him: the beautiful, raven-haired enigma, Madame Martel She was a statuesque Venus with a body that quickened Hudson's pulse. He could not for a second imagine what such a magnificently stunning woman was doing at a place like the isolated school. In beauty alone, she transcended the Hollywood ideal. Her casual haughtiness and sophistication befitted the upper echelon of the jet set. Yet, at lonely Mt. Arcadia, she was simply Dr. Slade's administrator, second in command. It mystified Hudson and, if he resolved nothing else during that nervous social and dinner hour, he made up his mind to satisfy his curiosity.
He finished unpacking and found the quarters adequate. It was a single, oversized room with an adjoining bath. With a double bed and dressers at one end, there was enough space left for a sitting area with sofa, desk, and bookshelves. In a small liquor cabinet, which was empty, was a note informing him that if he wished to order spirits, he should see Willis. Willis had been his driver and obviously had other household functions.
Hudson was annoyed. He wanted a drink. If he had a car--no, he'd still have to drive a helluva distance to a town. He had been forced to sell his car to support his unemployment. The thought of that caused him to realize how deeply isolated he really was. No wheels, no booze. Maybe one of the others had a cup of Scotch he could borrow. With the exception of Warren Blake and Miss Duke, who lived in the dorms, the rest had their living quarters down the hall from him on the second, the top, floor of the administration building. Perhaps even Madame Martel herself? God, how he hated that sobriquet, "Madame." It might be appropriate for Swiss finishing schools, but he couldn't shake off the American connection to commercial sex.
The phone on his desk had no outside line and a list of extension numbers was posted. He was about to dial when he was interrupted by a knock at the door. It was Dr. Slade, who beamed a smile at him and said, "Come, come, Mr. Hudson. We shall be late. Bring a coat. We're going to the boys' dormitory."
Hudson followed obediently. The wind was icy and howling as they crossed the grounds--to the square brick dorm. Slade explained nothing along the way. Inside the building, the headmaster quickly led the way down a flight of basement stairs. They passed through a warm utility room where an oil heater burned away, then through a heavy door, entered a small gymnasium. The room was equipped with exercise equipment and weights, wrestling mats, and gymnastic paraphernalia.
"The school is starved for space," Slade said. "This gym used to be a storeroom before we converted it."
Bradford Hudson hardly heard the banal words. His eyes were wide and his jaw had dropped. On a mat in the center of the room, a young boy of about sixteen stood at rigid attention. He was stark naked. Next to him, in a sweat suit, was Warren Blake holding a broad paddle similar to those used for fraternity initiations.
Blake smiled and indicated the nude boy. "This is Bruce," he explained. "Bruce has been a constant problem to us. Truly exasperating. He simply refuses to obey the rules."
"Bruce is very confused, Mr. Hudson," Slade sighed. "Yesterday we caught him sneaking out of the school laundry room after he had stolen a pair of soiled girl's panties. Well, we can't have pilfering. I postponed his punishment until today so you could see for yourself how we put into practice my theories of discipline. You may proceed, Warren. Fifteen strokes, I think."
The boy visibly trembled when he heard the word "fifteen." Yet he made no sound. Blake ordered him to turn around, bend over, and grasp the handles of the leather-covered exercise horse directly behind him. The boy obeyed immediately.
Hudson had not been able to stop staring at the boy's young, flaccid cock and his soft, adolescent body. When the punishment position was assumed, Hudson's gaze fell on the downy ass cheeks. The tremor in his loins made him instantly aware of his own bisexuality. The boy was a choice morsel, and Hudson was enthusiastic about seeing that sweet ass beaten. If anything, he would have loved to shove his own stiff erection into it. Yet, while he had those erotic thoughts, he was also frightened with the entire situation. There was so much he did not understand.
The paddle in Blake's hands whistled in a half arc and thwacked roundly on the boy's ass. The very sound made Hudson cringe. The boy, however, did not begin to wiggle or squirm until the fifth blow. On the eighth, he whimpered. By ten he was crying; and at the finish he moaned. The young ass, once so pink, was cherry red. Then Blake ordered the boy to turn around. Hudson blinked in amazement!
The expression on the boy's face was not, as he had expected, one of tortured anguish. The grimace was one of painful ecstasy. But that wasn't the source Of Hudson's incredulity. The paddling had triggered a throbbing erection! The cock that had looked so small and shriveled minutes before was now brightly swollen to a commendable five inches.
Slade and Blake both noticed Hudson's expression. "I think you're beginning to understand," the headmaster said softly. "Intriguing, isn't it? It opens up all manner of possibilities within an academic environment." He turned to the boy and ordered him to come forward. "Did you enjoy the paddle, Bruce?"
"I... I don't know. I mean, I guess so," the boy stammered.
Blake reached down and held the boy's erection between a thumb and forefinger. He gave it a couple of quick strokes and said, "Of course he did, Dr. Slade. I'm holding the proof. Now then, Bruce, what are you going to do with this?" He gave the cock a jiggle.
The boy looked up plaintively. Then he blinked and recited, as if by rote, "I have been properly punished. I want to thank you in any way you see fit."
Hudson doubted his hearing. There was no mistaking the licentious gleam in Dr. Slade's eye. There was more empirical evidence, however. The punishment had caused a stirring in Hudson's loins, and the aftermath had created an erection that was tight and gripping in his pants. He noticed, too, that Blake had a telltale protuberance under his sweatpants. Dr. Slade was even more obvious; as he stood in front of the naked boy, he was unconsciously rubbing the bulge in his crotch.
"You two may leave now," the headmaster told the two male teachers. "Bruce is going to put on his clothes and go back to my apartment with me."
Leaving the basement, Blake queried, "Why don't you join me for a drink?"
Hudson nodded without even thinking. Blake's quarters were on the first floor and quite similar to his own. The exception was that Blake had a small bar complete with miniature refrigerator.
"Do the honors, will you, please? You'll find everything there. I had the bar put in myself." He grinned wryly. "It reminds me of gay youth. Oh, Scotch for me. I'm going to get out of these gym clothes."
Hudson dug out the ice and the Scotch and quickly built two drinks. His own was better than a double. He drained off a large swallow and breathed a deep sigh. His first night at Mt. Arcadia had been a little more than unnerving. As the whisky warmed his throat, he glanced down the room at Blake. The teacher was just in the process of pulling off his sweatpants. Hudson could have averted his eyes, but he didn't. Blake still retained a formidable erection. It sprung loose, rigid and virile, as the pants came off. It was a considerable contrast to the adolescent cock he had just seen. Hudson had a great deal of pride in his own genital equipment, but he was forced to acknowledge that Blake was nearly his match. Somehow that irritated him. He was completely satisfied that Blake was a faggot of the first order and most likely found himself loath to females. Illogically, Hudson had always considered the homosexual as less endowed than straights or bisexuals such as himself. At least his own homosexual experiences had borne this out. He had even attributed a great deal of homosexual inclination among certain males as being a direct result of a small cock. Egotistically, he thought a big Cock--such as his own--gave a female ultimate pleasure whereas a penis of smaller dimensions seemed to make little difference in a male homosexual relationship. After all, the available apertures could only hold so much cock. Anything beyond that was redundant. It was a kudo to his vanity that, in this mental argument, he failed to consider the perverse pleasure he had received when reaming his own thick nine inches into the anus of another male. In any event, he felt that the size of Warren Blake's cock was excessive.
Then, while taking a second sip of his drink, he realized that not only did Blake's sex muscle seem extraordinarily large, but that it was on display. Stark naked, Blake casually came across the room and picked up his drink. His expression was totally blas�. He could have been wearing a tuxedo.
"Ahh, that's lovely," he said of the drink. "One needs to take the edge off after one of these sessions, don't you think? Of course, Slade doesn't show up very often, and I've never had to instruct in front of a new faculty member." Blake walked away from the bar and across to a sofa. He slumped into the cushions with his legs extended and cradled his glass on his chest. The huge, purple-veined cock arched up from his hairy balls like a monstrous prong. Blake seemed oblivious to the fact that it even existed. "You know what Old Slade is going to do, of course?"
Hudson had to swallow before he could say, "Yes, I think I do." He was standing just behind the edge of the small counter. He was tremendously conscious of his own erection, and he did not want Blake to see it. The sight of the fat phallus a few feet before him was causing his mind to spin. The man had to be the boldest sonofabitch he'd ever encountered. First parading, then lounging around with a gigantic hard-on. Hudson knew he had lost a strategic sexual round. Two minutes earlier he could have said, coolly and pointedly, "I think you had better put some pants on." And no doubt Blake would have smiled and apologized and complied. But now he had let it go too long and now he couldn't bring himself to say anything. He'd be damned if he would pull his eyes away and talk into his drink or stare at the ceiling. Nevertheless, the sight of the cock, the stupendous presence of it looming out so closely, was the most sexually intimidating thing he had ever seen.
"We thought you would," Blake continued, smiling. "Yes, our Dr. Slade is truly a genius. He'll have Bruce the whole night, you know. He'll fawn over him, loving him, and all the time he'll be tweaking that cute little cock and practically hypnotize him into doing. . . well, just let your fertile imagination run wild. Nothing, I repeat, nothing is impossible at Mt. Arcadia."
Hudson nodded. Mesmerized by the erection, which looked larger and larger in his psyche, he would not argue. He tried to rationally determine whether or not Blake's posture was shock treatment or a test of his perversity. He felt the guts-urge to call the game, but was checked by a deep and unknown restraint.
Blake chuckled, which made his erection bobble. "I'm sorry to say that we don't have more boys enrolled, Brad. There's only thirteen of them this term, compared with twenty-five girls. As you may have guessed, we're very selective. As far as the boys go, we don't want any jockstraps. Whatever your first impressions may be, Dr. Slade is a fantastic psychiatrist. He only accepts those students who he feels will comply to the environment we've created here. Naturally, they all come from very wealthy families. You could almost graduate a kid from college for what it costs for a year here. But to the parents, it's worth it. These are very spoiled and neurotic children. Oh, I suppose a sociologist would have a string of apologies . .. broken homes, parental neglect, overindulgence, precocity, you name it. Of course, what they need--or, I should say, needed--is solid psychological therapy. We have a seventeen-year-old boy named Tommy, for instance, whom you'll meet. His parents summer in Key West. Since he's been thirteen, he's been offering his mouth and his ass to every sailor's cock that he could solicit." Blake giggled. "He has quite an asshole! Seriously, though, we get the kids whose parents, whether they're high society or nouveau riche, are too concerned with their own image to have an embarrassment around the house. They won't send these kids to psychiatrists. They want them out of the way. They want no further trouble or embarrassments. Dr. Slade has simply capitalized on this peculiar trend. He promises the parents that their prodigies will come back very docile and very obedient. For public consumption, his motto is 'Spare the rod and spoil the child,' and legalistically speaking this is what happens. What the parents don't know is that their children are being selected with extreme care. Only one in twenty applicants ever makes it to Mt. Arcadia. Slade doesn't choose just any rich, wild kid. Unless their basic problem is psychosexual, he leaves them alone. There are no narcotic addicts here, for example, although a good number of them have experimented. Slade confines his selections strictly to those with sexual neurosis. It's limiting, I'll have to admit, but who could ask for a better job?"
Hudson drained his glass and poured another without being invited. Stark pictures and glossy images were flashing through his brain. Mt. Arcadia was the Everest of sexuality for a person like himself. It was a group-tour, package-plan, all-expenses-paid excursion to a nether land which he had frequently fantasized but never believed existed. A tightness was seizing his balls. Damn Blake, anyway. Heretofore, he had always been in relative control of any sexual situation. Now he was like a fish out of water. He couldn't pull his eyes away from Blake's hard-on. The man continued to talk casually about the school, but Hudson couldn't hear him. The drink was going down at an unwise speed. He forced himself to clench the muscles of his groin in time to hear Blake say, "... and we were all briefed on your background. It must have been quite a show you had going. I was quite interested because it was very similar to my own fall from public favor. Of course, in my case, there were no young ladies involved. What I had started was a calculus club--eight enchanting young men. Our meetings were truly a sight to behold. Here, I'll show you." He raised himself leisurely, his erection jutting up and out. He took an album from a nearby bookshelf, opened it, and set it on the bar before Hudson.
Two eight-by-ten photos stared up at him. The first was a daisy chain of anal intercourse. At the head of it, crouched Blake, sucking on the cock of the first boy in line. That boy was being fucked in the ass as were the others behind him. The second photo depicted a circle jerk. Blake and six boys, holding their own cocks or someone else's, were masturbating over another young man who lay prone before them. A couple of them had already ejaculated on their victim, and the photographer had caught Blake's load the instant he came. Aside from their young cocks and bodies, Hudson noticed the eager expressions on their faces. Even the young man who was being showered with cum seemed to be enjoying it.
"That was one of our initiations," Blake explained. "The boy had to let himself be gang-banged, too. Take it from as many as he could handle at once. Ah, yes, I often miss those days. What about you, Hudson? Did you and the boys in your group ever get together?"
Hudson nodded slowly. "There was only one boy, but we made it." Blake was standing next to him at the corner of the bar. The teacher's cock was only inches away.
Blake mused softly, "I wonder what the good doctor and Bruce are doing at this very moment? Do you suppose the boy is going down on him? That would be quite a mouthful. Slade doesn't give the impression of being very physical, but he's hung like a bull, I can tell you. Not too long, but abnormally thick."
He looked down boldly at the bulge in Hudson's pants. Casually, he reached over and ran his fingertips down the protuberance. "You're not exactly deficient yourself. I'd like to take care of that for you if I could. I don't want to offend you. I realize this place will take a little getting used to. I mean, you don't have to carry that thing back to your room and whip it off. I'd love to help you out, Brad, I really would."
Hudson thought for a moment. The only thing that had held him back so far was a sense of priority. He didn't know whether it would be smart in the overall scheme of things to start off the first evening in Mt. Arcadia with a homosexual incident. Yet it had all been set up and offered so blatantly that it was hard to see where there would be any onus attached. And it was he that didn't want to offend Blake. The man was the only other male teacher of his own age. Granted, he was as gay as they come. Still, he might offer some semblance of male companionship besides sex. Hudson made up his mind. He put his hand lightly on Blake's cock and wrapped his fingers around the rigid stem. He gave the cock a gentle pull. "I think you could say you talked me into it."
"Oh, marvelous," Blake sighed. "Young boys are beautiful, don't get me wrong. But a handsome man like yourself..." Deftly, he unzipped Hudson's fly and slipped his hand inside. When he found the throbbing organ, his eyes lit up. "My God, that's magnificent! Brad, please, get undressed. I simply have to have a very close look at that."
Hudson's ego was tickled. He allowed himself his first genuine smile since entering the room. He nodded to the request, drank a bit more Scotch, and walked into the bedroom area of the room. He took off his clothes without haste and turned to face Blake. Blake was actually trembling at the sight of Hudson's nakedness.
"That is the -most gorgeous cock I've ever seen," he said with a note of awe.
Hudson casually sipped his drink. His confidence had returned. Blake, balls and all, was no longer intimidating. He was just another faggot drooling over the sight of a hard cock. The upper hand was all his own. He decided to make Blake work for it.
He fondled his cock and said, "Sit down on the couch and I'll introduce you properly."
Blake was a bit puzzled. He complied, eager to make the acquaintance. He sat on the sofa and watched Hudson hungrily as he walked toward him. Instead of confronting him face-on, however, Hudson went behind the sofa. The back of it was just below the level of his crotch. Guiding his erection with one hand, he nuzzled it and rubbed it against Blake's ears and cheeks.
Blake was straining to get at it with his mouth. His lips were wet with saliva and his jaw was slack. Each time he would turn to lick or kiss, though, Hudson moved the hard meat just out of his reach. After but a minute, spittle was running down the corners of Blake's mouth. He was holding his own cock in a tight, squeezing grip. The veins and cords of his neck stood out as he moved his head. Hudson continued to tantalize, gradually letting the man have more and more of the fat, circumcised head.
"Lick it good for me," he said. "Get it nice and wet and slippery, because I'm going to put it up your ass."
Blake craned his head around and slobbered his tongue up and down the nine-inch length. In moments, the cock was slick and glistening.
"You do want it up your ass, don't you?" Hudson teased.
"Oh, yes, yes, anyway you want me."
"Bend over the back of the couch." Hudson came around, and Blake positioned himself by kneeling on the sofa cushions. Stepping up to him, Hudson spit on his fingers and pushed them into the anal crevice. He found the asshole hot and tight when he lubricated it. He pushed the tip of a single finger inside and jiggled it. Blake was twitching and gurgling.
"Do it! For sweet fuck's sake, use your cock! I want every beautiful inch of it."
Hudson removed his finger and leveled his burning prick at the small opening. He pressed the head to the wrinkled hole. With slow, steady pressure he pushed forward. The elastic ring of flesh gave ever so slightly. Then, with a swooshing sound of air, the heavy knob popped in and disappeared. Blake rolled his head from side to side and moaned. "It's the biggest one I've ever had! Give it to me slow, sweetie, or you'll tear me apart." Hudson's response was to take a grip on Blake's hips and plunge in another full inch on a single shove. Blake gasped but didn't protest. Another inch went in. Then another. In truth, it was all Hudson could manage. It was obvious that the young boys to whom the teacher was attracted were not overly endowed. Or, perhaps, being screwed in the ass wasn't one of Blake's foremost preferences. Certainly, it was as tight a male asshole as he'd ever tried. He'd been expecting something a little easier. His own cock ached at the strain.
"Shove back! Harder, harder!" Blake tried. He crouched deeper and pushed. He reached behind and spread the cheeks of his ass wider. But Hudson lost patience. He withdrew partway, leaving just the head of his cock buried, then he lunged savagely!
Blake screamed and tried to twist away. Hudson's hold was too tight, however, and the violent skewering had planted nearly two-thirds of the tremendous cock. With satisfaction, he thought, my God, that'll stretch it. That is one hole that will never be the same again! It would take a little time, but eventually he might be able to get all of it in. It was a thought that amused him. No one, male or female, had ever been able to take the full nine inches in the ass.
Feeling pleased, he eased off a little and rocked back and forth on his heels and fucked steadily but not harshly.
Hudson was smiling lewdly. Looking down, he could see his thick muscle distending the dark red hole that was fringed with sparse, coarse hair. It became grossly misshapen on every stroke. It thrilled him to know that, although Blake was enjoying it, there was a good deal of pain being received along with the pleasure.
"Play with my balls, " Hudson demanded. "I'm getting ready. I'm going to come up your ass!"
"No, please! In my mouth! Come off in my mouth!"
"Later maybe," he teased. He felt Blake cup his balls and squeeze them gently. "That's it. Do you feel how heavy they are? All of that's for you. For your ass!" He arched his back and pumped forcefully. The ache in his testicles was growing by the second. Then he came. At the limit of his deepest penetration, the hot thick juice spurted out with eruptive force. Instantly, his belly seemed to go hollow and his knees weakened. But he did not stop. Though his cock softened slightly, he kept stroking. He stared in fascination as some of his cum oozed back out around his cock. The sight made him potently hard once again. Now, his own ejaculate mingling with the juices of Blake's ass, he was able to fuck deeper and deeper. He was driving Blake to a feverish state of passion--exactly what he wanted.
He pulled his cock out and said, "I can come again. Like you want it, in your mouth." He walked around the couch and held his now slimy prick just inches from Blake's mouth. "Go ahead, lick it first. Get it all good and clean and then I'll come again." He moved closer. He didn't give Blake the chance to refuse the soiled, hard flesh. He cupped the back of the man's head and pulled the mouth down on his cock in a single, quickly decisive move. Blake gulped, but he had no choice but to lick and suck.
Indeed, Hudson came again. It took some time, though. His first load had been particularly heavy, yet his second was adequate. At least Blake appeared to find it acceptable. The teacher twitched and quivered all over as the ejaculation spewed into his mouth and down his throat. He sucked and slurped noisily and greedily to get every last drop of it. This time, Hudson knew he was completely drained.
While Blake licked off his chin and lips, Hudson came around and sat at the end of the couch. Satiated, he leaned back and relaxed. He squinted at Blake's erection which was as huge as ever. It had turned purple in the heat of passion. He knew he would have to do something about it. The lazy way would be to allow Blake to fuck him m the ass. He was tempted because he would demand that Blake give him a good ass-tonguing first. On the other hand, he didn't want any pain or discomfort. He had always been careful about the size of the cocks he let up his ass. As he had been observing all evening, Blake was nearly as large as he. No, he supposed the simplest thing to do would be to blow him and get it over with. He sighed to himself and moved down the couch.
He weighed the heavy balls lightly in one hand and fondled the base of the angrily flushed shaft with the other.
"Oh, yes, sweetie!" Blake urged in a whisper. "It's ready for anything you want. Oh, that's beautiful! What a lovely mouth you have! Oh God, yes! Suck it like that! Ohhh ... you're sucking so-oo hard! Please, sweetie, slow down a little ... not so fast! Please, I .. . Oh, my God, I'm going to come! It's too soon... I'm sorry ... Ohhhh!"
Hudson milked the testicles and shaft with his hands and gulped down the thick salty flood of ejaculation. It tasted good and he enjoyed it. His real enjoyment, however, came from having brought Blake off so quickly. It was a fitting climax to the sexual advantage he had been nurturing. In deference to his host's sensibilities, however, he apologized for having begun so strongly. He pleaded that he wasn't as experienced as the math teacher. He didn't know whether Blake believed him or not. And he didn't care either.
CHAPTER FIVE
Following Bradford Hudson's first two days of classes, the school population was abuzz with speculation about the character of the handsome young teacher. Boys and girls alike attempted to size him up and gauge his mettle. Not very much of the speculation concerned his ability as an English teacher.
Hudson had found that his duties were relatively simple. Since English was a required subject for all--both upper and lower forms, corresponding to the last two years of high school--Hudson met all the students in the school during the four classes he taught daily.
He had been advised by Dr. Slade to be very strict, even aloof. He had tried, but it was a bit of an effort. His classroom manner had always been casual and friendly. It had always been his way to gain the students' confidence rather than to intimidate them. As a group though, the students reflected the discipline of the school. They were a model of quiet behavior. Of course, Hudson had done some sizing up himself.
The student body was especially good-looking. Dr. Slade had selected well. The boys tended to be smallish, soft, and clean-cut in a sissified way--which was only understandable, considering their exposure to homosexuality. On the other hand, the girls were ripe and smoldering. And there were no physical misfits. Their bodies and shapes varied, of course, but not to extremes; there were no fatties and frails. Some of the older girls were anatomical knockouts with mature bodies that belied their age. The younger ones were just on the verge of developing. All in all, a delightful selection. Hudson wondered if lesbianism was as rampant as male homosexuality. It was difficult for him to judge. There were no obviously masculine types. Of the female teachers, Adele Hutton came closest. Yet it was Elaine Duke who was the dorm supervisor. And Miss Duke did not fit his image of a lesbian. No matter, he thought with a mental shrug, there was enough to go around.
Hudson had kept to himself for a couple of evenings following his initial homosexual encounter with Warren Blake. After dinner on each of the nights, the math teacher had him for a drink and, not wanting to get too deeply involved at first, Hudson had used the excuse that he had to lay out his study plans and prepare his courses. It was not a lie. In fact, he used the time for just that purpose. What he had expected, thought, was some communication from either Dr. Slade or Madame Martel. Since the headmaster had made it a point to have him witness a whipping with overt homosexual trimmings on his first night at the school, Hudson felt like he was left dangling. Someone should let him know what was expected of him. It wasn't as if he were quartered in a students' dorm. The idea that the school was rooted in sexuality and that he was being temporarily ignored--except for Blake's overtures--bothered him considerably.
On the fifth evening of his residence, he was tempted to take up Blake's invitation. To his chagrin, though, the math teacher said nothing after dinner and went off with Dr. Slade. Miss Duke and Miss Hutton shortly left the dining room, and he found himself across the table from Madame Martel. He had learned her first name and he used it.
"Britt, just what the hell is there to do around here?"
She looked at him with mild surprise, then amusement. It was the first time they had actually spoken other than to greet each other. She did not return his initial familiarity, however. "Why, Mr. Hudson, are you bored? That would be a shame. You've only been here less than a week. You should have said something to Dr. Slade or myself. I was led to believe you spent quite some time with Mr. Blake the night of your arrival. I assumed you were continuing to see him." The little smile she gave indicated that she either knew or suspected what had happened.
Hudson reddened. "I haven't been back to see him. Warren's all right, don't get me wrong. It's just that I have a wider range of interests." He looked at her directly.
She met his stare and said with extreme coolness, "Really, how interesting. You must remember to tell me all about them someday."
"I'd like to tell you tonight," Hudson said, not backing down.
She sat for a time considering him. "My, you are really very bold and forceful, aren't you? Well, Mr. Hudson, let me see. This is Friday. Fridays and Sundays are movie nights. Saturdays, in case anyone hasn't told you, we have a dance. Since these are the only functions where the boys and girls mingle, they have to be chaperoned. You'll do your stint at it, too, but tonight I happen to be on duty. I could have you in for a glass of sherry afterwards, though, I suppose. Would you like that?"
"Yes, I'd like that," Hudson said gratefully. He stood up as she rose. He watched her tall, sensuous body walk gracefully across the room and out of sight. Who gave a damn about students when a female like that was close at hand? He kicked himself mentally for not having spoken to her sooner. It made him feel rather good that she had so quickly accepted his solicitation. Could it be that she had been waiting for him to approach her? There was a whole week wasted, he thought. Well, one thing for certain, he was going to make up for the lost time. He sat dawdling over a cup of coffee until one of the help interrupted. It was Bess, the middle-aged Negro woman who served their meals.
"I'm sorry, sir, but I have to get these dishes cleared off. Mr. Willis drives us back down the mountain at seven sharp. He just don't like to wait."
"I'm sorry, Bess. I was just daydreaming." He'd been trying to imagine Britt Martel naked. It was a sweet dream.
Hudson went to the movie by himself. It was held in the small chapel building that, since the school was no longer a seminary, also doubled as auditorium. He entered late and could not find Madame Martel in the dark. Nor did he see her when the lights went on. He asked the boy who was running the projector and was informed that she had left some time earlier. Quickly he returned to the main building and went directly to her door.
To his surprise, his knock was answered by a student. He dredged for her name and came up with it: Hope Fairchild.
"Come in, Mr. Hudson. The madame's expecting you. She'll be out shortly."
The girl was extremely pretty with straight, ash-blonde hair that came nearly to her waist. She was dressed in a miniskirt that was considerably shorter than the length girls were allowed to wear to classes. Hudson also noticed that she wore dark nylons and heels--two other items that were not prescribed school wear. Then he took a closer look at her blouse. No, he wasn't seeing things. Or rather, he was. The sheer fabric was almost transparent. Hope wore no bra. And her pert, unsagging breasts were plainly visible. The nipples were darker spots against the diaphanous material.
She closed the door and indicated a sideboard. "Would you care for sherry?" she asked. He nodded, watching her carefully. There was quite a transformation from the girl who sat in one of his classes. He had guessed her age to be seventeen and, though the sexy clothes didn't exactly add years to her, they gave her an exciting veneer of sexual sophistication. He accepted the drink and complimented her appearance.
She nodded demurely. "Thank you. Is there anything else I can get you? A cigarette?"
He pulled out his own, but she insisted on lighting it. Not shabby at all, he thought. Hope would be an asset to any man's apartment. But why was she playing hostess in Madame Martel's? He glanced about. The madame's place was considerably larger than his own. It appeared to be a suite with a separate bedroom. Off an alcove, there was even a Pullman kitchen and a small settee where two or three could eat. The furnishings of the main room were of tasteful and quiet elegance. It was a Victorian style but not heavy handed. He realized it was the kind of room that suited Miss Britt Martel perfectly. Yet her young friend seemed somehow in place. He did not know how carefully the room had been decorated, however, until Madame Martel entered the room.
Hudson was not shocked, but he was a bit stunned. The madame was the positive picture of sexual dominance. From the top of her head to her toes, she created a powerful image of raw, unyielding force. More than anything else, it was the boots. They were distinctly old-fashioned Victorian: pointed toes, a spiked heel at least four inches long, and shiny black patent leather laced to her knee. Above them were sheer, black nylons. These could be seen through a wide split in her dress. The dress itself was also black, made of a clinging material that molded to her body like a second skin. The garment was high necked and long sleeved, yet it revealed everything. Every contour of her fantastic breasts and nipples were perfectly delineated. It was an awesome sight. Her flesh seemed to ripple under the material as she came forward to greet Hudson.
"Welcome, Brad. I see you've met Hope." She smiled at the girl. "I've taken Hope under my personal supervision and guidance. I'm pleased to report that she's coming along quite nicely. Don't you think so, too, Hope? Tell Mr. Hudson."
The girl stood near Hudson and cast her eyes downward. In a voice quite shy, she said, 'The madame is too kind. There is still much for me to learn. All I can do is try to be worthy of the madame's attention."
That odd little exchange over, the madame showed Hudson to the sofa. It struck him as she took his arm that, with the extreme height of her heeled boots, she was a good three inches over his height of an even six foot. It was unnerving to have such a gorgeous woman come in that large a package. They sat and Hope refilled his glass and served the madame sherry. They made idle conversation for some minutes and Hudson let his mind wander beyond their words. He noticed the casual way that Britt Martel crossed her unbelievably long legs. On " many women, such boots would have been unwieldy and awkward. For her, they almost seemed natural. Hudson was not naive, of course. He recognized the dominance ,which the boots symbolized. Also that her other choice of garments carried out the symbolism in a more subtle way. He was familiar enough with the classical vixens of literature, and he was aware that sadomasochistic games, including bizarre costumes with boots and leather, were becoming increasingly popular across the country. He had never encountered it personally, however.
Since he thought highly of his own masculine, predisposition to be the dominant sex partner, he had always doubted that he would find such a woman attractive. It bothered him no little bit, seated the length of a sofa from Britt Martel, that she was causing a perverse excitement deep within him. It was as if no one had ever bothered to tell him that the first real dominatrix he would encounter would be such a stunningly beautiful woman. Without her boots or heels or anything else, she was imposing enough to cause a bit of a tremble in any normal man. And Hudson knew well enough that his sexual appetites were not considered exactly normal.
He found himself musing over the possibility of being sexually submissive to her. It was at this point that his lack of experience concerning the more ritualistic forms of sadomasochism came to the fore. He had no idea about the extent of her perversity. While the fun of playing games with her intrigued him, he certainly wasn't the kind of man who enjoyed pain--a prerequisite, he thought, to playing the masochistic role properly.
The closest he'd ever come to the complicated crossover between sexual pain and pleasure were those times when he was the passive partner in anal intercourse. And it was also true that the more often it happened, the less was the pain and the greater the pleasure. Unless the other person's cock was of fairly large proportions, there was no discomfort at all anymore. Someone like Warren Blake, he knew, would probably take his breath away. But he thought he could handle it if he had to. Even so, that kind of pain was different than the pain he associated with a dominant female.
He had heard the stories of their predilection for whipping. It was that aspect that left him cold. And, God knows, he thought, the whole faculty, himself the only possible exception, was hung up on corporeal punishment. He was quite sure that Britt Martel was equally disposed. Then, as if in answer to his thoughts, he heard the madame asking him, "The doctor and I have been wondering, Mr. Hudson, why you haven't had to recommend a student for discipline yet."
"I haven't had a reason to," he smiled. "I've never had a better-behaved bunch of kids in a classroom before. Apparently, whatever discipline they receive elsewhere is enough to get them through English."
The madame gave him a short laugh. "Ha! Well, you'll see. They haven't tested you yet. In time you'll discover that we have a number of children who go out of their way to get punished. They become absolute little savages just to get a taste of discipline. That kind of thing can't go unchecked, of course. The discipline is utterly important, but it must be channeled so that it is at our discretion, not the student's instigation." She sipped her sherry thoughtfully while looking at Hope who sat primly and still in a nearby chair.
"Now Hope is a good case in point," the madame went on. "She adores a good whipping. Don't you, child? Answer me."
Hope nodded her head solemnly. "Yes, Madame, I do."
"There, you see. An honest answer to a question. But Hope was one of those girls who would go out of her way to invoke punishment. She'd throw childish tantrums and the like. Under my personal tutelage, though, she's changed her ways. You see, Mr. Hudson, a sound whipping can be two things. It can be punishment for a thoughtless or disobedient act, yet it can also be a reward for good behavior. Hope, with my help, has just discovered that. Tell me the truth now, child. Would you like to be whipped tonight?"
The girl raised her eyes at once. She seemed about to answer, but kept glancing hesitantly at Hudson. Finally, she stammered, "Oh, I... yes, Madame. I'd love it for you to whip me tonight. I promise to be very good. I'll do anything you want!"
The madame sat back with a thin, satisfied smile. "Now do you understand, Mr. Hudson? It's all a matter of emphasis. It takes time and effort to bring them around, but the rewards are worth it, don't you think?"
Hudson had to clear his throat before he answered yes. The scene was very similar to that which he'd observed on his first night: young Bruce submitting to Dr. Slade after the paddling. But this, Brad thought, was even more profoundly perverse. He was witnessing true subservience. The madame didn't have to actually whip the girl, only promise that she would. Hudson stirred in his chair. A strange anxiety was growing within him. A whole area of sexuality, a no-man's land, was being opened to him. He found himself being drawn further and further inside.
The madame was shrewd enough to sense it. She noted the quick, nervous sip he took of his drink and the way he tried to keep his face from betraying his excitement. Inwardly, she allowed herself a moment of smugness. There was much about these vain, handsome young men that she disliked. Especially the ones who thought their cocks were an answer to a maiden's prayer. She had little use for any of them. So little use, in fact, that it had been years since she had deigned to give a man more than the time of day, much less allow one to think that she--was a sexual possibility.
Slade was the only one who understood her, yet he would never dare mention it. When she had set Slade up as headmaster of the school, it was with the understanding that he could play his own games with the little boys and keep out of her way. She preferred her present position to that of the figurehead. Slade played his part well, and no one was any the wiser. Certainly not the handsome Mr. Hudson.
Welcome to my parlor, she thought, bemused. She wondered how long it would take her to completely twist around his sexuality. He wasn't a sexually confused adolescent. He had his deviant lusts, to be sure, but on the whole he was an aggressive, egotistical male. It would be a challenge, she thought, something to amuse her during the rather dull winter. She had been toying with the idea for some time. But the only other male around was Warren Blake, and he was perfect for the position he held. Then that previous bitch English teacher had become emotionally involved with one of the girls and had run away with her. Well, maybe it was fortunate. It had brought Hudson to her. She recognized that she had already made up her mind or else he would never be sitting on her couch. It was time to pique his curiosity.
"Would you believe," the madame asked, "that just by mentioning a whipping to Hope, that it started her body aching for it? I'll show you what I mean. Come here," she ordered the child. "Lift up your dress and show Mr. Hudson your cunt."
The girl did as she was ordered. She wore only a garter belt. The lips of her young cunt were nestled in pale, silken hair. To Hudson, it looked delicious and unspoiled. Under any other circumstances, he would have loved to slide his tongue in it. Now he tried to be nonchalant with certain clinical curiosity. "It doesn't look particularly wet," he observed.
"Oh, it is," the madame said. "Look here." She reached out and wiggled two fingers between the blushing lips. Then she deftly slid them upward and twisted them. The girl allowed the violation without a quiver; she continued to hold up her skirt and look straight ahead. When the madame removed her fingers, they were indeed wet. "There." She held out her hand to Hudson so he could better see. He nodded seriously. The madame turned back to the girl and said, "Now see what you've done. My fingers are all messy. Go on, child, clean them up."
Without lowering her skirt, the girl leaned to the upraised hand and licked the fingers that carried her own cunt juice. When the madame was satisfied with the cleansing, she said, "Well, I have promised you a whipping and you shall have it. But we have a guest this evening, and we ought to be hospitable. Why don't you show Mr. Hudson how pretty you are without your skirt and blouse?"
Hope quickly slid out of the two garments, leaving on her garter belt, stockings, and heels. She stood before them once more, all her charms exposed. Hudson acknowledged her young beauty with a broad, greedy smile. Shorn of her blouse, he could see that both nipples were bright pink and swollen--the exact rosy hue, in fact, of the lips of her cunt. She was splendidly proportioned for her weight and size, which he estimated to be a hundred pounds and no taller than five three in heels. "Lovely, just lovely," he said aloud.
"Yes, isn't she? Let our guest examine you, child. Go ahead now, Mr. Hudson, see how exquisitely smooth her skin is."
Hudson swallowed hard as the girl stepped up to him. He wanted very much to touch her all over, but he didn't want to seem too eager. He began by stroking her arms and her hips and stomach. Then he cupped her breasts and kneaded them, pulling his fingers outward to stroke the hard nipples. His cock was growing hard by the second. He made no move to a position; that made it less obvious. He continued to caress and fondle the girl, working down to her pubes and teasing the soft bush of hair.
"It's all right, you can finger her," the madame said. "Her asshole, too, if you like."
The weirdness of it all was getting to Hudson. He had diddled with young girls before, but always with the idea of turning them on. It had always been just a mere preliminary to more involved sex acts. And there was always a reciprocal excitement. Now, as he tentatively stroked Hope's cunt and wedged his finger in deeper, he was faced with a submissiveness that he did not understand. In all respect to his past experiences, he should have not been finding much pleasure in probing the sex of a girl who, though hot and damp, did not move nor protest nor encourage--only allow. Yet it was exciting.
He filled her with two fingers and inserted them fully. He stroked up and down to see if he could get a reaction. Hope remained still though and only the increased flow of her cunt juices indicated that she even felt him. Hudson frowned. He couldn't believe that he wasn't turning her on more demonstrably. It was unnerving. Beads of sweat broke out on his forehead. It was a tremendous effort to try and retain any semblance of coolness.
He turned her around and spread her legs slightly. Reaching under her, he dipped his finger in her cunt and spread her juices backward to her anus. Then he pushed a fingertip into the puckered ring. Instantly, he was surprised how easily his finger slipped in. He glanced at Britt Martel. She smiled at him but said nothing. Hope's cunt was average size for a girl her age, but her asshole was astounding. Hudson pushed in two fingers and, to his continued fascination, they fit without excessive pressure. My God, he thought, she's bigger back there than Warren Blake! He found it difficult to conceive of a young girl being looser than a practicing faggot. Deliberately, he bunched three fingers and shoved them home. Well, finally, there was the tightness. But it was an impressively thick bouquet of fingers he was using. He felt like pumping the fingers to her harshly to trigger some acknowledgement of what he was doing. But he held himself back. The anal examination was cursory. He finished by caressing the firm, rounded cheeks of her ass. Something else intrigued him at that point.
"I gather she's been whipped often, from what you said," he observed. "Yet there's not a mark on her ass. I would think otherwise."
"I'll show you. It's quite interesting," the madame offered. "Hope, thank Mr. Hudson for touching you, then go to my room and bring back a couple of your whips."
"Thank you very much, Mr. Hudson," the girl said with a surprisingly grateful note to her voice. "I enjoyed your hands and fingers. I only hope you enjoyed me." Then she was off to the bedroom.
In a moment she returned with three ugly-looking leather instruments--two whips and a broad strap. They were ugly, that is, to Hudson. The manner in which the girl carried them and presented them to the madame indicated that, to her, they were precious.
"Look here," the madame said, handing him one of the whips--a short, flexible quirt three feet long. "Notice the padding under the first layer of leather. And see that thick tip. Make no mistake about it, this is an extremely painful item, but it won't break the skin. It can damage one, naturally, if used to extreme. It will raise welts and bruise the tissue underneath. Those marks go away quickly, though. Cuts are forbidden here. We want no scars, temporary or permanent. After all, these are beautiful children, as you can see from looking at Hope. To discipline them and train them is one thing. To mark their bodies would be another--very unsatisfactory. With these specially designed whips and straps, they go unblemished yet suffer the most exquisite pain."
Once again Hudson found himself appreciating the strange thoughtfulness and thoroughness he kept encountering at Mt. Arcadia. He hefted the quirt for feel and flexed it. Yes indeed, it would most definitely be painful. He wondered when he would get the opportunity to use similar equipment. He looked at Hope's cute smooth ass and felt a tightness in his loins that was entirely new. The night he had watched Blake paddling young Bruce, he had been excited. But it had been a different kind of excitement. He hadn't mentally put himself in the place of the disciplinarian. Perhaps, he mused silently, I am moving into a very rewarding new phase of sexual experience.
"Very neat," he said, passing back the quirt. "I've never been around whips before, you know."
"So I gathered," the madame replied. "But you find them exciting, don't you?"
He shrugged, trying to be noncommittal. "Interesting."
"More than just interesting, Mr. Hudson. From the look of your pants, your cock must be near bursting."
Hudson flushed involuntarily. "Well, after all... I mean, the girl is naked .. . and I've been fingering her."
"I see. Just that." The curve of her smile mocked him. "Well, would you like to see her whipped?"
He wanted to say no to win his point, but he was too aroused. Hoarsely, he said, "I would."
"All right. Hope, tonight I am going to allow you the privilege of choosing your own painful device. Come quickly, child, what's it to be?"
The girl pondered a second. "The strap, Madame, if you please."
"Ann, an excellent choice." She flashed Hudson a superior smile. "The punishment strap is more terrible than most. They tell me it feels like hot coals across the flesh. As you can see, it isn't padded. It won't cut because the edges are well rounded. However, we will raise a few welts this night."
She cracked the two-foot long, five-inch wide strap against her boot with a sharp sound. Holding it by a braided loop handle, she swished it through the air and smacked it down on the sofa cushion between herself and Hudson. He flinched--and cursed himself for it.
The Madame appeared not to notice. She was contemplating her victim. "Will I need to restrain you, child? Or can you contain yourself? Answer me."
"I... I don't want to be tied. But with the strap, I... I don't know if I can ..."
"Get the bonds then and be quick about it."
The girl ran to the bedroom and was back in a flash with a set of leather straps with buckles. Next, she moved a heavy ottoman with ornate curved legs from in front of a chair to the center of the carpet. She set a strap by each leg and positioned herself, belly down, over the piece of furniture. It was not precisely a crouching posture. Her knees were bent awkwardly and drawn up so that her legs were spread wide apart and her ass was higher than her shoulders. Hudson had a full, unobstructed view of her ass and cunt.
The madame allowed the girl a couple of moments to anticipate the impending whipping, then leisurely arose and went to her. Hope's wrists were each strapped to an ottoman leg and two straps were used, above and below each knee, to secure her legs and retain the same grotesque position. That accomplished, the madame flashed the strap and stepped back.
"Keep a close eye on her cunt, Mr. Hudson," the madame explained. "Her cries and pleas won't be a true indication of the intense sexual experience that will occur."
Her eyes flashing, her booted feet firmly planted, the madame arched the strap through the air and struck the first blow. The resounding smack of leather against flesh jolted Hudson. Compared to a paddling, it was a frightening sound. And the girl, though she was probably desperately trying, was unable to prevent herself from crying out. The strap flew again. Again the girl cried out and started pleading with the madame to stop.
"Shut up your whimpering! You'll be begging for extra strokes before I'm through with you, you miserable little cunt!" She struck two quick blows in succession, each striking the upper thighs on the band of flesh above the girl's stocking tops.
Hudson gripped the edge of the sofa and leaned forward. The madame's sudden vehemence had surprised him. Her expression was one of utter imperialism. And Hudson peered at Hope's cunt. As had been promised, it was beginning to glisten. He grasped his cock through his trousers and squeezed to alleviate the tension that had arisen. In fascination, he watched the strap fall precisely, measured blow upon measured blow. It was apparent that the madame was a true expert. As the ass turned bright red and angry welts appeared, she laid her blows down so that no one part of the ass or upper thighs received too much punishment. And the effect was plainly obvious. As had been foretold, despite the girl's screams, the cunt juices were literally dripping out of her gaping slit.
The sound of choking sobs was loud when the madame turned away from Hope. "That will do for the moment. It'll give her something to think about." Her eyebrows went up as she noticed Hudson holding his pants. She curled her lip smugly. "Don't be embarrassed, Mr. Hudson. I'm rather glad you appreciate the view, to say nothing of the action."
"I've never seen a cunt get so wet," he admitted. "I watched it snapping and twitching. Did she have an orgasm? It was hard to tell."
"An orgasm?! Why, she had a climax on nearly every stroke. You have to appreciate the difference in sexual response between a male and a female, Mr. Hudson. She's capable of a few more, too, but not immediately." She looked at Hudson's crotch and pursed her lips. "Whereas, it appears you would be satisfied with just one, wouldn't you?"
Oh, yes--Hudson thought--with you, dear madame. He looked up at her searchingly. Her nipples had become engorged during the whipping and they poked out against the tight bodice of her dress like hard plums. How he would love to get his hands on those, push them together, even come in between them. With her, he'd settle for just that. He refrained from being presumptuous, though. This was her show. He said, "Yes, I'd love to come off. I'm open to suggestions."
"I don't think that would do," the madame said with a note of displeasure. "I wouldn't want to make a suggestion and then have you refuse it. You would have to promise to follow my instructions. I, in turn, will promise you your gratification. And you need gratification, I might add."
She was quite serious and Hudson realized it. She wasn't about to let go of the situation for a second. If he didn't agree, he would most likely be shown the door. He looked over at the bound girl and her sopping sex. He imagined that the suggestion would somehow involve her. It was a bizarre trap. A small voice told him to lightly refuse her dictate and leave with his masculinity intact. But another voice, louder and more compelling and more deeply rooted in his psyche, urged him to agree. He did so.
"Excellent, excellent," the madame smiled lewdly. "I was hoping you were the adventurous sort. For a start, you may take off your clothes. I'll be right back."
She left the room, and Hudson hurried to undress. His skin was prickly with hot flashes as he anticipated--what? It was the element of the unknown that caused the tightness in his balls. He felt his cock and found it to be as rock hard as he had ever known it. He could feel the blood pumping furiously through the length of it. He stepped closer to the girl and stared closer at her uplifted, crimson ass. All he had to do was kneel down. Either at the rear or at her head he could momentarily relieve at least some of the sexual strain. He looked over his shoulder toward the bedroom door. It was closed. Then his eyes switched back to the cunt which seemed to draw him like a beacon. He wasn't thinking clearly at all, so he acted. Quickly, he dropped to his knees. The girl was breathing rapidly and making no sound. Her long hair covered her face and he couldn't see her expression. She was probably in a daze, anyway. Swiftly, he pushed his cock into the folds of her cunt and shoved forward. She made a throat sound, but that was all. Feverishly, Hudson stroked! One, a couple, a half dozen--that was all he needed to relieve the unbearable strain. He wouldn't come, though, he would save that for the madame.
"You cocksucker! What do you think you 're doing to that girl! Get that filthy cock out of her!"
Madame Martel stood above him, hands on hips, her face a mask of fury. Hudson gulped and withdrew his cock. He hadn't even heard her come in. What a stupid, stupid trick to pull. He castigated himself. He glanced up and over his shoulder, an explanation on the tip of his tongue. "I couldn't help it..." he started to say.
The rest never came. He gawked at the sight of Britt Martel. While he had been sneaking his quick, thoughtless fuck, she had been removing her dress. All she wore, save the boots and dark nylons, was a black satin garter belt. His gaze swept upward. His tongue thickened at the sight of her hairless, thick-lipped cunt. His eyes boggled at the tits that loomed out, firm and stupendous. Oh, Jesus, he moaned inwardly, if I screwed up my chances with this magnificent creature, I'll never forgive myself.
Without warning, she slapped his face with an open hand. She silenced his protest by hissing, "Shut up, you faggot! Whatever gave a cocksucker like you the idea you could touch this girl? That asshole fucking cock isn't good enough for her! And what do I get for my troubles and hospitality? I get a sneaking, lying, ungrateful male whore! I get you!"
Hudson was crimson. His mouth worked but no words came. He was hypnotized by her furious, magnificent spread-leg presence above him. Finally, he found his voice. "I'm sorry! Please, please forgive me! I'll do anything, anything to make up for it!" The words rushed out. His blinking gaze focused on her smooth-shaven cunt. He had to have it, to kiss it, to taste it, whatever the cost. "Give me a chance to prove it to you!" he pleaded.
She walked around him, glowering down, her hands still on her hips. "Untie the girl," she ordered. Gratefully, Hudson scrambled around the ottoman and loosened the straps. Hope got to her feet slowly, numbed from the restrained position. Hudson started to get up also. "You stay where you are! You owe this child an apology, too, and not in words either. And I'm going to see that she gets it. Since you took advantage of her while she was tied down, I suggest it's only fair that you be treated likewise. You do agree, don't you?"
Numbed and churning with confusion, Hudson nodded. He paid no real heed to the possibilities of what could happen to him. He only knew that he did not want to be cast away and scorned by Britt Martel.
"Since you're built differently than Hope, however, we'll have to make an adjustment. Get on the ottoman, on your back."
Hudson obeyed, and Hope was directed to strap him down. His hands were bound underneath the flat, broad stool and his ankles were strapped in such a way that his knees were doubled and his ass protruded over the edge of the cushion. It wasn't until he was firmly secured and unable to move that he realized what an utterly exposed and helpless position he had been subjected to. His confusion and chagrin were suddenly replaced with a massive dose of fear. By bending his neck up, he could see his unprotected erection and he knew that his balls and ass were equally vulnerable.
"Don't whip me, please! Don't do that to me!" He pleaded with a tremor in his voice.
"But it's what you deserve," the madame said. "However, I'll reserve judgment on that for the time being. It may not be necessary if you do as you're told. First, there's your debt for your insidious assault on Hope. For a start then, you're going to eat the cunt you soiled. Go ahead, child, squat over his face. Mr. Hudson would be very grateful and honored if you did that. Wouldn't you, Mr. Hudson?"
Hudson realized that an answer was expected. Painfully humiliated, he said, "Yes, Hope, I would be very grateful if I could lick your beautiful cunt."
CHAPTER SIX
The cherry-red, shining eye of the young cunt slowly dropped toward his mouth. As the girl squatted, then bent her knees deeper, the folds of sex flesh stretched and parted. A scant distance above his lips, she paused. She nuzzled his nose with a puff of fair pubic hair. He extended his tongue and craned his neck upward, but she pulled back slightly and retained the tantalizing distance. By straining against his bonds and stretching his neck and tongue to the limit, he could just touch the heated, damply scented lips.
He tried to mumble with his tongue out and beg her to come closer. Yet she continued to dance over him and toy with him. For an instant, she would lower herself just enough to enable him to get a taste of her clean juices. Then she would lift up and leave his tongue waggling in the air. It was beyond a tease; it was a torture.
He wanted to please her and, in so doing, please the madame. The whole of his body ached--not only his neck and jaw but his limbs, too, as they pulled against the tight straps. And, of course, his cock. That was the greatest ache of all. He had never been tormented like this adolescent, perverted bitch was toying with him. A tight pain welled up in his throat. He suddenly felt like screaming. But instead, he moaned, a plaintive moan that echoed into the sex cavity above him. It was only then that Hope grasped his head with her hands and shoved her soaking cunt hard against his mouth.
Hudson licked and ate and sucked and groveled like he never had before. Only one imprint was burned in his brain. That was to mouth the girl with passion abnormal. His tongue was a blur, his lips a frenzy, his head a jerking, twitching thing between her flesh thighs. His face was slick and he could feel her steaming juices running down his neck and cheeks, even to his ears.
Britt Martel watched his furious cunt-licking with a triumphant leer. Yes, it had worked out far better than she had dreamed. She had not believed his stupidity. Unless, as she already partly suspected, he had fucked Hope in her absence, unconsciously wanting to be caught and grossly used as punishment. Well, that he would be. The hour was late but the night was young. She saw that his cock--huge, she had to admit--was twitching uncontrollably. That was good; it was good that he could be so virile while being humiliated. However, she didn't want him to ejaculate. Her plan was to keep his balls yearning for as long as possible. She knew the day would come, perhaps sooner than expected, when all she would have to do was kiss that erect, thick penis with the stinging tip of a whip and he would erupt like Mount Vesuvius. But that would come later. Tonight there would be no whips. Humiliation was the better start. There were many ways--one or two of which he was already ripe for. She signaled Hope.
Trembling, the girl lifted herself off Hudson's face. She had no big orgasms left in her, but the teacher's mouth had triggered so many tiny climaxes that she had lost track. God, she owed so much to the madame for allowing her this pleasure. She would even suck the man's cock if it were requested. She soon saw, though, that the madame had other ideas.
When Hope's cunt had been taken away from him, Hudson had collapsed. His head lolled back in exhaustion; his tongue and mouth were raw. He gasped and panted for breath. For a minute or so, he did not know how long, he had blacked out.
He awoke to the sharp pressure on his chest. His eyes swam in their sockets until they focused on the madame's bizarre boot planted squarely on him. His stare followed the leather up the leg. She stood near his head, one foot on the floor and the other on him. He stared past her puckered cunt and the mountainous tits to the evil grin on her face. He knew what she wanted; she was going to demand that he eat her cunt. God, he wanted to! There was nothing he craved more. But he couldn't, the girl had been too much. It was at that moment he saw the coiled quirt in her hand.
"No, no, not that!" he cried weakly. "Don't whip me ... you promised!"
"Don't be absurd," the madame sneered. "I promised nothing. Except earlier, I did promise to make you come, didn't I? All right, I think we'll attend to that."
The madame moved her booted foot up Hudson's chest. She lifted the sole and pushed the heel slightly into his chest. When he winced, she asked, "Do you like my boots?" He nodded. She jabbed the heel into him again. "Say it!"
"Yes, yes. I love your boots!"
"Good. Then you can fuck them!"
She put her foot down and stepped aside. "Hope, release Mr. Hudson."
When the straps were loose, Hudson slipped off the ottoman and onto the floor. His arms and legs were totally numb. The only part of his anatomy that had any circulation was his still-rigid, burgeoning erection. He managed to pull himself to his hands and knees, and he shook his head to ease the strain on his neck and shoulders.
"Don't get up!" the madame ordered. "You're going to be a nice stud horse. Hope, get on the horse and ride him over here . . . fast!"
Before Hudson could twitch, the girl had jumped on his back. She straddled him, pressing her still damp cunt into his skin. Her nyloned legs were around his waist and she wedged her heels up toward his groin. With one hand, she held his hair and pulled his head back. With the other, she slapped his ass a stinging blow.
"Run, horse, run!" she cried. She kept slapping his ass to urge him forward.
Finally, his numbed muscles responded. He crawled awkwardly under the weight, crawled toward the sofa where the madame sat casually smoking a cigarette and sipping more sherry.
Just as he reached her, she said, "That wasn't very good riding, child. Take the horse around the room again. If he doesn't go fast enough this time, there's a riding crop you can use to improve the performance."
Hudson lurched forward, laboring mightily, cursing Martel, the girl, himself, but nevertheless obeying and straining to obey well. He rounded the room under the stinging slaps and came to a halt breathlessly before the madame.
"Much better. This is a horse that shows promise. All right, child, you may dismount. Horses and leather go together, you know, so that's what we're going to do right now. Come closer, Mr. Hudson. That's right, on your knees. Now straighten out. Now put your hands behind your back. Hope, get the restraints and secure each of his wrists to his ankles."
The girl complied. In a minute, Hudson was bound again. This time, he was kneeling upright and facing the madame, who still lounged on the sofa.
She extended a booted foot forward and slid a sharp pointed toe underneath his balls: Hudson squirmed. She kicked her foot sharply, nearly wedging the boot toe into his asshole. "Don't move if you know what's good for you," she threatened. "And don't look so agonized. After all, you were the one who wanted this."
Hudson had no protest left. Nor would he have cared to when she extended her other booted foot and pressed the leather sole against his cock, pressing it back against his belly. God, yes! Just to have it touch something! The smooth, cool sole was like a balm to his burning prick. She moved her foot and increased the pressure. He moaned his gratification. But it was short-lived.
The madame dug the narrow, spiked heel into the base of his cock just above his balls. Hudson gasped and his eyes popped. The pain was sharp. "No, don't!" he whimpered. He might have been' pleading with a wall. She pushed the other foot up more deeply near his anus. The heel near his cock ground again. The sole flattened the penile head. The sole felt good, but the heel and toe were like sharp instruments gouging at his most sensitive flesh. Pain and relief were striking him alternately. One second she hurt him, the next she massaged him. Alternately, he would groan in pleasure or gasp from pain. And it was all happening at such a concentrated area. In a matter of minutes he was soaked with sweat. His eyes were clenched, his entire body screamed for freedom.
Suddenly, he realized that he could no longer distinguish the pain from the pleasure. They were one! His entire crotch was a fiery agony, but it. . . yes, yes, it felt good! Good!! He came A geyser of white-hot cum spurted a foot into the air. More and more gushed and spilled. Hudson sagged under the blow of pleasure from within. He swayed on his knees. All he wanted was blessed oblivion, the fadeout of ecstasy. His failing consciousness started to take him down, down, down .. .
His neck snapped violently! His eyes fluttered open, and he saw Britt Martel's cruelly distorted face close to his. She had hold of his hair and was pulling his head up. "You're not through yet, cocksucker!" she screamed shrilly. "Look at my boots!" She pushed him down so that he was staring at gobs of cum strung out on the black leather. "Lick it up!" She forced his head lower.
His mind convoluted, and he saw clearly the scene that had been played many months before--when he had splattered his ejaculation on the huge tits of Miss Carter, the librarian. And she had licked and sucked his cum. A full circle, he thought weakly. Without a whimper, he put his lips and tongue to the shiny, soiled leather and licked up his own sticky juices.
When he had cleaned the boots to her satisfaction, he was untied and ordered to dress. A black seed in his brain prompted him to plea feebly for permission to remain. The madame only laughed scornfully. "Look at you! What could you do? How could you possibly please anyone?"
"I could try," he whispered. "Do as you're told and you may get a second chance," she said haughtily. "Right now I'm going to give Hope a little whipping as the reward for being such a helpful girl this evening. Good night, Mr. Hudson. Sleep well."
He staggered down the long hall to his own quarters and fell on the bed unable to remove his clothes. He had been to hell and back. Yet, the only thought in his mind was that he had to see the madame again as soon as possible.
CHAPTER SEVEN
On Saturdays at Mt. Arcadia, the domestic staff that was driven to the school daily was considerably reduced. There were no meals served in the faculty dining room, and the teachers were expected to eat in the dormitory dining rooms. Hudson followed the custom and joined Dr. Slade and Warren Blake and the male students. Following the meal and prior to the Saturday night dance, he went to Blake's room for a drink.
"Look, old man, is something wrong?" the math teacher asked. "I thought, you know, after your first evening here that we might have a little more time together. I'll be frank with you, I miss that beautiful cock of yours."
"I'm just trying to get my bearings," Hudson said. "It's nothing personal. The other night was, well, a bit disorganized. But I enjoyed it, I enjoyed you. As I said, I'm just a bit disorientated."
"The dance usually breaks up about eleven. I was going to have one of the boys in. Of course, I'd rather see you. If you want to come by ... "
"I don't know," Hudson said honestly. He finished his drink and pulled on his overcoat. "Let me talk to you later, okay?"
They left it at that. Hudson braced himself against the cold wind and walked across the grounds. It was important to keep his options open, he thought. Yet he would make no plans that would prevent him from seeing Britt Martel. The remembrance of the previous night had haunted him all day. And to think, after what had happened, he hadn't even touched her. He wanted that so badly it was growing like a cancer in his mind. He had not seen her all day. Would she call him? Contact him? Did he dare call her? There were too many questions and too few answers.
He shivered as an icy blast of mountain wind whipped around the corner of the administration building. Then he bumped into a student. It was Hope Fairchild. The young girl recognized him and said, "Oh, good evening, Mr. Hudson. I'm sorry. I wasn't looking where I was going.'"
"Hope, how are you tonight?" He had emphasized the inquiry so it could only mean one thing.
She smiled pleasantly. "I'm fine, Mr. Hudson. Why?"
He groped for the right words. Finally, he took her arm and led her to a doorway where they were out of the wind. "What I mean is," he began slowly, "you and I were in Madame Martel's apartment last night. I mean, a lot of things happened there. What I want to know is how you are . . . how do you feel."
"Why, like I told you, Mr. Hudson, I feel fine."
He didn't know whether he was getting through or not. He tried again. "Listen, after I left last night, you stayed. Would you mind telling me what happened?"
"Oh, no," she said brightly. "The madame whipped me again, just like she promised. It was lovely."
"That's all? She just whipped you? And that was all?"
For the first time, Hope lowered her eyes in a semblance of girlish shyness. "Well, not quite. She let me kiss her all over like she does when I've been especially good. I licked and kissed her everywhere. That was lovely, too."
Hudson felt a knot of heat in his guts as he conjured up the image. So she would let the girl have her body but not him. Damn the beautiful bitch! To Hope, he said, "I guess you'll be seeing the madame tonight. . . after the dance?"
She shook her head sadly. "No, she doesn't have me in more than once a week. I wish it were more. I... I can tell you, Mr. Hudson, because Madame Martel is a friend of yours, too."
"Tell me what, Hope?"
"It's Miss Duke. I hate her. She's the one who arranges for you to visit the madame. She makes you kiss and lick her everywhere, too, especially her ass. Only with her it seems that it's like playing dirty sex. Like the kind parents and everyone always scream about. It's not beautiful like it is with the madame. I wish I didn't have to see old Duke to visit the madame."
Hudson took all that in and patted Hope's cheek. "I'll tell you what I'll do, Hope. I'll speak to the madame about it personally. Maybe we can arrange for you to bypass 'old Duke' as you call her."
The girl blinked and smiled broadly. Then she gave him a quick hug and ran off without another word. He watched her run across the grounds and join up with a group of other students who were headed toward the auditorium for the dance.
In his room, Hudson poured a drink and found the faculty extra-duty roster. The chaperones at the dance were Adele Hutton and Blake. It was a bold move he was contemplating but one that had at least a semblance of possibility. He picked up the phone and dialed the extension of Miss Duke's quarters in the girls' dorm.
"Elaine? Brad Hudson here. Are you busy right now?"
"No ... no, all the girls are at the dance. Why, what is it?"
"It's quite important, Elaine. I'd like to see you if I might? Can I come over?"
There was a note of suspicion in her okay, but Hudson didn't care. She'd find out soon enough.
The girls' dorm was a larger building than the boys'. But, apparently due to the disparity in enrollment, space was more limited. Miss Duke's room was only half the size of his own. In fact, she did not have a full bed but instead a convertible sofa that pulled into one. However, a real fireplace compensated for the size disadvantage. It was going when Hudson was invited in. Elaine Duke, dressed in slacks and sweater, took his coat and made him feel at home.
It was such a friendly fire and cozy room that Hudson was almost sorry he had to get down to realities. When she wanted to know what had prompted his visit, he began by telling her part of what Hope had said, without mentioning the girl's name.
"Correct me if I'm wrong, Elaine," he went on, "but this is the way I see it. Some of the girls serve your sexual demands and, in turn, you route the more promising ones through to the madame. I would guess that the cycle perpetrates itself. Once she's had them a couple of times or more, they desperately want to go back. In order to do that, they must come to you again. Right so far?"
Elaine Duke's eyes had narrowed and she was tightlipped. Her usual soft, pretty expression was now harsh. With an edge to her voice, she said, "You may be on very thin ice, friend. No one questions what Britt Martel does. Not even Slade. Sometimes you'd think that she ran this school instead of him. I don't know what sort of game you're up to, but you've gone this far and you'd better tell me the rest."
"Simply this," Hudson said seriously. "I have been a visitor to the madame's myself. Yes, that's right. And I want to go back. You seem to be a channel for such arrangements. All right, I'm laying it on the line. Consider me, treat me, just as you would a girl in this dorm whom you send to the madame. Whatever they do to get there, I'll do."
It took a long moment for Elaine Duke to realize what Hudson had said. Then she laughed incredulously. "Oh, shit, shit, shit! Now I've heard everything!" She leaned forward and stared at him closely. "'My God, you're serious, aren't you?"
"I've never been more serious about anything in my life."
Miss Duke got out of her chair and stood with her back to the fire. She stared at Hudson. "It never occurred to me that the madame would want a faculty member, much less a man," she mused. "Well, obviously, she has or you wouldn't be here. She certainly has a way ... I've seen enough testimony to that."
Hudson's face was strained. "I'm begging you to help me. Will you?"
"Let's say I do. There's no guarantee that it will work. You say you want to be treated like one of the girls, but you can't escape what you are. The madame may laugh at me and consider you a fool. Then where would you be?"
"Please, I want to take that chance! I'm willing to do anything."
"I wonder," Miss Duke sniffed. "I'm not like her, you know. For one thing, I don't whip anyone, if that's your hang-up. I don't have her finesse or talent or what ever it is she has. If the girls want her, they do exactly as I say when I say it. That's the way I want it... no pussyfooting around, no psychological games. If I were to take you on, that's the way it would be with you, too. Because it cuts both ways, friend. If you take a chance on getting to the madame through me, take the same chance on not getting to her if you fuck up. And another thing. I'm not very gentle. In fact, I get very dirty and nasty. You won't have any niceties to look forward to . . . except, of course, seeing the madame."
Hudson understood what she was saying. She was only a moderately attractive female to whom, in more usual circumstances, he wouldn't give a tumble. But he had crossed over the line. Nothing she could ever do to him would quench his lust for Britt Martel. He looked up at her imploringly. "Give me a chance, please."
The minutes ticked away interminably. Finally, she said, "All right, lover--strip!"
With a tremendous sigh of relief, he began to pull off his clothes. As soon as he was naked, he asked eagerly, "What do you want me to do?"
"Stick a finger up your ass," she said evenly.
"What... what?"
"You heard me. I mean now!"
He reached behind himself and parted his cheeks. He pushed a forefinger against his tight anus and shoved. Miss Duke came around to look, and he pushed it further.
"Deeper. That's better. Now wiggle it around. Okay, change hands." When he accomplished that, she grabbed the first hand and held up the finger that had been inserted. With her hand over his, she guided the finger slowly toward his mouth. There was no mistake in what she wanted him to do. With a churning stomach, he opened his mouth as she pushed the finger in and he licked it and sucked it. He fought against gagging and, after a moment, the wave of nausea passed.
"Now that's a good boy. That's a good shit-face. Just like when you ate your doo-doos when you were a kid. All right, change hands again. This time use a different finger up your ass. I'll want every finger including your thumbs in and out of your ass when I say switch." She called off the cadence until he was left with a thick thumb buried in his ass and was sucking the other. She laughed at him harshly, then asked, "Do you know how goddamn stupid you look, Hudson?" He couldn't answer, but he thought it would be all right if he nodded his head.
Before him, she removed her clothes. To his relief, her body was better than he had imagined. She was slightly overweight and her tits were round and plump, but there was no sag. Her crotch was not clean-shaven like the madame's, rather she had an abnormally huge bush of dark, pubic hair. He could not even see the outline of her cunt. It was only a moment, however, before she showed it to him. She ordered him to his knees and to take the thumb out of his mouth, but he had to keep the one in , his ass. She walked up to him and spread her legs. With her fingers, she pulled apart the heavy pubic hair and fingered herself inches from his face.
"Now get in there and get to work, friend."
For the second time in twenty-four hours, Hudson found himself frantically lashing his tongue inside the hot lips of a cunt. There was a difference, though. This time it was voluntary subjugation not a forced submission. But he couldn't have cared at all about the psychological implications of having gone that far in such a short period of time. To him, it was simply a question of doing what he had to do. His tongue was extended to the limit and he buried it as far as it would go. Elaine Duke's mature cunt also created a physical difference. It was larger and deeper than that of Hope's. More flesh to cover and a far bigger clitoris to twang with his tongue and suck and nibble with his lips. He covered and laved it all with gusto.
She stopped him short of an orgasm. "I don't usually start out that fast," she said, pulling away from him. "I was curious to know how good you were at cunt-lapping. Well, you pass, but you're a long way from getting an A. Take my advice. You'd better try harder. Now, my tits feel heavy. What does that suggest to you?"
"I'd love to suck your tits as long and as hard as you want me to."
"That's exactly what I had in mind." She sat down on a modern, armless lounge chair and leaned back. Still on his knees, Hudson was able to position himself, bend his head slightly, and find one of the hefty tits. "Lick them all over first," she directed.
Hudson twisted his head in all directions and caressed the smooth flesh with the pressure of his tongue. It was a sensual gesture that he had never been particularly fond of in the past. Sucking nipples was another matter; that was an activity he could relate to exciting a female. Merely licking titflesh, though, never seemed very meaningful for either himself or his partner. Yet now his attitude had changed as had so many other things.
He lapped the heavy but pliant mounds hungrily and lavishly. His own excitement was increased by the constant jabbing of his thumb in his asshole. The inside of his ass was actually pulsing with pleasure. In the meantime, he hadn't yet touched his fat, tingling erection. Still, he was aware that Miss Duke had pointedly ignored his cock by the absence of both word and glance. With her there had been no solicitation over his obvious arousal nor had there been any promises, however abnormal, about getting his rocks off. He knew he could not expect everything, but nevertheless it was a bitter pill to have ignored,--the rather potent monument to his masculinity. As he moved quickly around the chair to lick the underside of her other tit, he gripped his cock and gave it a couple of furious pulls. He didn't fool her for a second.
"No jerking off, goddamnit!" she cursed. "You leave that useless lump alone until I can figure out something interesting to do with it. It's too bad you can't..." a loose smile came to her face. "Maybe you can," she said softly, enjoying the fun. "But first, do my nipples. And I warn you, I like them sucked really hard."
While he skittered from one side of the chair to the other and swallowed and tugged at her thumb-thick, swollen nubs with all the suction he could muster, he pondered her last remarks. He had been wrong after all. She was going to take care of him. He was not foolish enough to believe that it would be in any normal way; he even excluded her masturbating him. He dwelled upon the possibilities until eventually she pushed him away from her nipples.
"Lie on the floor on your back," she ordered. She stood over him. With her bare foot--for Miss Duke was certainly not prone to fetish symbolism--she flicked his hard cock back and forth a couple of times. She seemed to be sizing it up.
In that position, Hudson was prepared for almost anything. Yet all his guesses were wrong. She ordered him to spread his legs widely apart. When he did this, she stepped between them, grasped his ankles, and lifted his spread-eagled legs. She lifted until they were straight up. Then she began to bend them over and push down. His ass came off the floor. His total weight was being supported by his back and shoulders and head. Then he realized what she was up to when his legs were forced down and over his head. He realized his own cock was coming closer and closer to his own mouth. It was unbelievable, yet it was happening! The strain on his body, which only an instant ago had seemed unbearable, had suddenly dissipated. Somewhere in Hudson's meandering sexology, he had heard that auto-fellatio was possible for a few people. But he had always thought of gymnasts and contortionists. It hadn't occurred to him until that very moment that an average athletic suppleness coupled with a cock better than three inches longer than normal constituted a possibility, too. But it was happening. The blunt head of his cock was only an inch or more from his mouth. Then Miss Duke gave a final heave on his legs and pinned them, widespread, to the floor above his head. He could actually extend his tongue and touch the head of his cock.
The thrill of perverseness ran through him, and a clear drop of seminal fluid oozed out of the tender, tiny hole. He licked it greedily and savored the salty taste. He teased the urethral opening with the tip of his tongue. The sensation was tingling but not nearly enough. He strained to spread his legs even farther to gain that extra inch. He croaked, "More, more!" to Miss Duke. By puckering his lips, he had touched the cockhead and his tongue was now able to reach the Tim of his circumcision.
Miss Duke evidently understood his plight. "Hang loose a second," she said with an amused lilt. She left him for a moment and returned to a position above his stretched buttocks. What she had in her hand was a bullet-shaped vibrator. She snapped it on. Hudson heard it whir. Then he felt the pulsations flipping into his asshole which gaped widely. She pushed the whole head of the battery-powered machine in. Hudson, who was already sweating and tingling, felt the new vibrations cascading through his ass and into his balls, then down his cock. Incredibly, his erection grew. His lips completely covered his bulbous cockhead. He sucked frantically. He could feel the pulsations of the electric anal dildo all the way in his own mouth. They grew stronger, too, as Miss Duke continued to shove the device deeper and deeper into his ass. Finally, he thought it was lodged in his bowels.
He sucked like he had never sucked on a cock before. He could see his balls twitching. Suddenly, Miss Duke leaned on his ass and pushed down. Hudson's neck almost snapped--but his throbbing cock plunged another inch into his mouth. That was when he came convulsively. It was like no juice he had ever swallowed! He clamped down with his lips and gulped. The thick elixir scorched his throat. The experience surpassed his wildest fantasies. But it came abruptly to an end. With the last of his own sperm drained into his own mouth, his cock shrank away from him. No amount of straining or sucking would hold it. The sex meat receded and he was left with his mouth agape, his tongue licking at nothing but air.
Miss Duke pulled his legs back and rolled him over. She did not, however, move the vibrator that was buried deep in his asshole. Now that the passion of his ejaculation was past, Hudson found the instrument to be extremely uncomfortable, even painful when he attempted to move. But that was the price he had to pay for his previous pleasure.
"It stays," Miss Duke said adamantly. "You make sure of that. It happens to be one of my favorite training aids. It enforces the students' awareness. Around here, the motto is Think asshole.' All my girls soon get to adore assholes. Clean assholes, dirty assholes, assholes that fart... in short, my asshole, depending on my mood. You of all people should know that everybody has their hang-ups. And I have mine. Oh, it's nice enough to have my cunt licked. It doesn't do a hell of a lot for me, though. I guess I was born with an asshole more sensitive than my cunt. Besides, everybody eats cunt nowadays. A died-in-the-wool faggot is the only exception. Nothing turns me on more than to have a hot tongue rimming my asshole. Naturally, I've been saving that for you until last. And I can't impress upon you enough that you had better do a very, very good job. What do you say to that?"
Hudson licked his lips. "I'm ready to lick your asshole, Miss Duke."
She snorted derisively, "You're not going to just lick it."
He found out soon enough what she meant. She crouched on the sofa bed and he knelt on the floor with his face as the level of the moons of her ass. He was forced to clench his own ass cheeks together to retain the fat vibrator that buzzed in his bowels. As she directed, he put his hands on her ass and widened the crevice to give his mouth access. He could see that the wrinkled pink hole was quite clean, but it wouldn't have mattered. The asshole represented the last hurdle in getting to Madame Martel.
He moistened his lips and bent to his task. At first he kissed and licked the entire surrounding area and the length of the crevice. Then he concentrated on flicking the rubbery nether ring with the tip of his tongue. Gradually, he worked his stiff tongue into the dark cavity and ran it round and round. Soon a strange moisture was mingling with his own saliva. Perversely, it excited him as did the musky scent. His rimming became more rapid and he sensed that he was pleasing her from the way she squirmed.
"Tongue fuck me!" Miss Duke growled. "Tongue fuck me, or I'll shit in your face!"
He responded with a rigid, probing, plunging tongue. As he darted his organ in and out of the now slippery orifice, he could feel it widening. He pulled on the sides of her ass to open it even further. Unbelievably, it was soon a large enough opening that his lips fit inside the ring. His tongue drove as deep as was humanly possible. His hands felt the flesh of her ass quiver and the sphincter of her anus clamped on his tongue as if to draw it in and hold it buried.
"Blow in it! Suck on it!" she yelled, her breath ragged.
Hudson was no longer conscious of the vibrator in his own ass. Alternately, following her directions, he blew up her rectum and sucked out the hot, fetid air. Her bowels rumbled and steamy farts thundered out at him. Suddenly, her whole body shook uncontrollably! She groaned and let loose with a tremendous blasting fart!
Hudson realized that he had just witnessed his first anal orgasm!
She sent him to the bathroom where he gratefully washed and gargled away the dark brown taste. Hudson looked in the mirror and saw the same face that greeted him every morning. Perhaps the eyes were shining with a bit more heat than usual. His journey to perversion hadn't changed his appearance. Dorian Gray was still fiction.
CHAPTER EIGHT
If Hudson's appearance had not changed, he thought bitterly after three days had passed since his visit to Elaine Duke, his psyche had certainly been altered. There had been no message, not even an acknowledgement, from Madame Martel. In the faculty dining room, he was relegated to nonexistence. She neither spoke to him nor looked at him. When her glance did happen to carry his way, it was as if he were the invisible man. Miss Duke was little better. Except for "pass the salt," she did not speak to him either. She had spoken to the madame, however. She told him that in a brief phone call the morning after he had gone to her room. Since then, there had been nothing--particularly from the source that counted.
Hudson had slipped into a state of self-castigation. He cursed himself for making an utterly sick, groveling fool of himself. He had been so sure that his visit to Miss Duke would titillate the madame's sense of dominance, but he ignored the potential humiliation that could be heaped upon him by simply ignoring his ploy. And now he had sucked and licked that woman's foul ass and had nothing to show for it. He was right back where he started: miserable and confused, and still aching for Britt Martel whom he had elevated in his mind to the high priestess of eroticism.
Tuesday night he was in his room, doing what he had been doing for the previous two nights--waiting. He made a halfhearted attempt to correct English compositions, but he couldn't concentrate. He kept staring at the telephone on his desk and hoping it would ring and even trying to rationalize making a call. None of the rationalizations bore fruit. They fell apart for a simple reason: he instinctively knew she would delay contact interminably if he began to pester her.
He gave up the paperwork and turned on the television. Mt. Arcadia, via a. huge antenna, received one weak channel from a distant city. He stared at it blankly for some time then snapped off the drivel in disgust. It was incredible how his balls could ache so and how, when he was anguishing his lust, his cock would constantly be hard. In the dark hours the night before, he had got out of bed and onto the floor and attempted to suck his own cock like he had done in the company of Miss Duke. He had strained and huffed and only managed to get his tongue on the tip of it. Without someone to help him, he realized, he would need considerable practice. So even that had been a failure. He was forced to conventionally masturbate for the first time in years. Now, nearly twenty-four hours later, he was contemplating masturbation again.
Or he was, at least, until he heard the knock on the door.
With his heart pounding, he opened the door to find a girl student standing there. Her name was Lynn Parker. Hudson tried to hide his disappointment.
"Yes, Lynn? What can I do for you?"
"May I come in, Mr. Hudson?"
He hesitated. Having a student come to his quarters was highly irregular. Still, Lynn was a very enticing young lady. She was short and slender, but nicely proportioned--very similar to Hope Fairchild. She was a blonde, too, but wore her hair in soft curls that framed her oval face, and had large brown eyes. The quick thought occurred to him that perhaps all the girls weren't strung out on lesbianism. He smiled and let the girl into his room.
Fortunately, he was wearing a loose cardigan sweater that fell below his waist. As he had opened the door, he had managed to hide his bulging erection. He asked Lynn to sit down and said, "It's always nice to see a student take an interest in her work. I take it you're having some problem in English that I might not be aware of. Well, fire away . . . I'll be glad to be of help."
"I'm not here about my schoolwork, Mr. Hudson," the girl said. He gave her a friendly, confidential smile.
"No, then what could it be, Lynn?"
"Madame Martel sent me."
The erection hidden beneath Hudson's pants and sweater twitched. He cleared his throat. "You have a message? She wants to see me?"
The girl shook her head solemnly. "No, it's something else. I think you'd better let me explain. It's kinda, well, detailed."
Warily, Hudson said, "By all means, explain."
Lynn Parker, who was dressed in school clothes and carrying a large, baggy purse, picked up the purse from where she had set it down next to her chair and began to take out articles and set them on the coffee table. First, one extra-high-heeled pump, then the other; a pair of sheer nylons; and a waist-high corset with long garter straps. She looked up to meet Hudson's wide-eyed stare and said, "I'm to wear these tonight. You're to take off all your clothes completely. Then ..." she fished back into the big purse. Her hand emerged holding a molded plastic dildo nearly the size of his own cock. Dangling from it were straps by which it obviously attached to the girl. She went on seriously, "I'm to wear this, too. There are certain things I'm to do to you and to tell you to do . . . and the madame says you'd be very cooperative. In any event, I'm to report to her everything that we do and say. Are you ready to start, Mr. Hudson? I'm rather anxious to get this over with and get back to the madame. I'm sure you can understand that. "
Hudson laughed, but it was not a characteristic laugh. It was a little hysterical and rather shrill. It startled Lynn, and he was forced to say, "No, no, it's all right. Just as the madame says, I'll be very cooperative. This is something of a surprise to me, though, you see. I'd expected the madame to, ah, well. . . never mind. Maybe I shouldn't be surprised at all."
The girl smiled understanding. She made a gesture indicating his clothes. Hudson was almost giddy as he undressed. The madame was truly an original, bless her black heart, he thought as he slipped off his pants making no effort to hide the hard cock from Lynn. Sending a young girl to humiliate him was a stroke of perverse genius. He knew that if he were in his right mind, the state of mind he'd been in even a week earlier, he would have felt anger and outrage. Now he felt nothing but twisted appreciation; for in sending the girl, she had indicated that he was not to be ignored. He stood naked in front of Lynn, his erection bristling, anxiously waiting for the sensual drama to begin.
The girl stripped with the detachment of a bored prostitute. She sat down and pulled on the dark nylons and slipped into the heels. Standing up again, she slipped the corset loosely around her and beckoned him. "You have to lace me up."
The restraining garment extended from her hip bones to a point beneath her breasts. Hudson bent in back of her and cinched up the laces, pulling them tight until she ordered him to stop. She had hooked the garters to the nylons. The corset gave her the appearance of a wasp-waisted little vixen whose tits seemed larger than they actually were. Hudson was excited by the costume. He realized it was no mean feat to make a seventeen-year-old girl, especially one with a pretty, innocent face, appear sadistic. He offered to help her with the strap-on penis, but she refused him. Indeed, she was quite competent, a fact that caused Hudson to wonder if the madame herself had her little charges wear false cocks and fuck her? The speculation gave him renewed faith. He could certainly service her needs far better than an imitation.
The plastic cock jutted out at a ferocious angle. Swinging as it did from where her young cunt would have normally been visible, little Lynn was transformed into quite an imposing creature. She swiveled her hips a couple of times, whipping the cock back and forth, to test the holding power of the straps. Satisfied, she came forward. "Get on your knees and suck it," she said flatly.
Hudson went down at once and took the cold, hard thing between his lips. It should have done absolutely nothing for him--a plastic, inanimate, insensitive thing. Yet, as he sucked, he could feel the simulated veins and ridges and circumcision of the device. As his lips and tongue slid over the molded anatomy, he could appreciate the perversity of his position. Before she called a halt to the weird cocksucking, he had managed to excite himself far in excess of what the situation warranted.
"Now bend over," Lynn said, walking around him. "Your ass is going to be fucked." She was very businesslike. There were no preliminaries. When she knelt down behind his spread cheeks, she did not caress him nor finger his anus nor wet it in any way. The only lubrication available was what he had left on the plastic from his own mouth. The girl simply positioned the blunt end of the intractable weapon tight against the crinkled aperture--and rammed it in!
"Arghh!" Hudson's cry erupted from his throat! The sudden pain hit him like a Shockwave. His asshole was ripped beyond repair--he knew it! The monstrous thing was unyielding and unbending as it pushed deeper and deeper. A human cock, he thought, even the most rigid erection, had some merciful play in it. This plastic pole had none. It was ripping out his guts! For an unnerving moment, he thought he was going to shit.
His initial outburst had caused him to cough and choke. The girl paid him no heed. When she had forced the cock into him as far as it would go, she pulled it out with agonizing slowness. Just as the corona almost cleared the sphincter, she plunged it in again full tilt. Again he cried out, yet again she repeated the process. She repeated it until he no longer yelled at each stroke. Then she reversed her rhythm. She pushed in with tantalizing deliberateness, bulldozing the rectal flesh apart. Once at full penetration, she heaved backwards and ripped the rigid rod straight out!
He gasped loudly, hardly able to believe that his asshole had not been turned inside out. But, no, she was in there again, easing deeper. This time he braced for the rapid backstroke. Yet even when it came, he felt part of his guts go with it. Though he had hardly been silent, he left any pleas to stop the anal torture bubbling in his mouth. He endured the pain of her vicious withdrawals. Next he suffered the agonies of a violent jabbing rape. It was only after what seemed an age that the girl steadied down to an easy, rhythmic fucking. With the worst of it past, the pleasurable sensations grew. A warm glow emanated from his asshole to his balls and cock. God yes! It felt wonderful!
He swayed his ass and pumped it to her movements. It had become far better than any ass-fucking he had ever had from a live cock. It further surpassed the rectal massage Miss Duke had given him with the vibrator. If this was what he had to do to please Britt Martel, it wasn't going to be as bad as he had imagined. Just as he was thinking that, the girl savagely ripped the plastic penis out, completely out. His surprise prompted a cry, but that caught in his throat. To his amazement, the final violence almost caused him to ejaculate. Instead of screaming, he sighed because the artificial prick had been taken away from him.
The next order from Lynn was, "Roll over and lie on your back." She pushed his legs apart and shoved his knees up. Kneeling between them, she had him lift his hips. Once more she put the artificial cock into his asshole. Gratefully, he accommodated her full length.
"Now you may jerk yourself off," she said. "But you must come on your belly." She commenced the fucking once again.
Hudson gripped his hard-on without hesitation. The one thing he had dreaded was having to endure the entire scene without coming. Even if he had to do it himself, there was that beautiful hard hunk sawing in and out of his ass. He stroked his cock lustily with one hand and fondled his balls with the other. His excitement mounted swiftly. The girl fell into the same tempo as his masturbatory pulling. He followed her lead then. He jerked faster and slower according to her ass-fucking strokes. Soon he was squirming, nearing ecstasy.
Abruptly, she pulled his hand away from his balls. With her own hand, she slapped them back and forth. It wasn't vicious slapping, yet it was hard and it stung. It did not deter Hudson, however. He thought of it feverishly as sweet pain, urgent and insistent. It seemed to loosen the welled-up spunk in his balls and spur it onward. With a tremendous heave, he let loose and inundated his stomach and lower chest with hot, opaque cum.
He had no sooner come out of the moment of vertigo he had felt upon ejaculation, when he realized that the masturbation had been ordered for an ultimate purpose. The girl pulled the plastic cock from his ass and, bending over him, rubbed it into his belly and coated it with his cum. Then she held out the phony, now dripping phallus, held it before his mouth, and said, "Lick it clean. The madame wanted you to have a bedtime snack."
CHAPTER NINE
The following evening, Brad Hudson heard another knock on his door. Upon opening it, he found another young girl. This time he did not display the naivet� that she had come about schoolwork. He invited her in and asked if the madame had sent her. The girl said yes. Like Lynn Parker, she wore a sprinkling of fetish attire: high heels and net opera hose that exposed the cunt and were secured at the waist by a wide leather belt. And, like the previous visitor, she had brought a strap-on, artificial penis. There was one difference, however. The latest model was obviously longer and thicker.
For the second night in a row, Hudson was the victim of the same ritual. He sucked the cock and was then brutalized anally with it. His pain and anguish were increased in ratio to the larger dimensions of the plastic phallus. Again he was required to masturbate and lick his own semen off the offending device. On Thursday night, he was prepared for the knock at the door. Only a dressing robe covered his nakedness and he no longer took care to hide the erection that had sprung up in anticipation. When he opened the door, there was not one but two young girl students. Again it was strap-on plastic cocks, but of gigantic proportions. Double pleasure and double pain: he sucked on one dildo and was reamed by the other. The girls switched back and forth, too. He was forced to endure everything twice over.
When he was finally alone after three consecutive nights of rectal rape, he examined his sorely used asshole and discovered that the elastic ring of flesh and the sphincter muscle had been stretched to a point where his thumb slid in with nary a squeeze or protest. Try as he did, he could not guess the madame's motives. If, under other circumstances, he had found himself in the grips of a dominant male homosexual, he might have been able to understand the steady preparation of his ass. But the madame had nothing to gain--or so he thought.
On Friday night, no one knocked at his door. Instead, the phone rang. It was Elaine Duke. If Hudson wanted to see the madame, he would have to pay her, Miss Duke, another visit--that very night.
He was at the girls' dorm and Miss Duke's door at the appointed hour. From behind the door, she peered out in response to his knock. When he entered and she closed it behind him, he saw that she was already naked. He also saw, to his relief, that she was not wearing a strap-on penis. At least that particular form of humiliation was over for the time being. However, although Miss Duke posed no visible threat, she was hardly cordial.
"Well, what are you waiting for?" she snapped. "Get naked! I haven't got all night."
He was unprepared for the abruptness but nonetheless pulled off his clothes hurriedly. He waited, hesitant but willing and already aroused.
"Did you miss me, Hudson?" He nodded. "What did you miss most about me?"
He said what he thought would please her most. "I missed your ass... I mean, your asshole."
"You did, did you? Tell me what you missed about it?"
"I, well... I missed how good it felt when I kissed it. I missed how tight it was around my tongue. I missed the taste and the smell of it."
"And you just can't wait to start licking it again, can you? You want to bury your head in my ass right now, don't you?"
"Yes. Yes, I do."
"Then what are you standing there for, you dumb shit! Do it!"
Hudson had expected her to order him into a position or to assume some posture herself that would make her ass available. Yet she didn't move. She simply stood in the same position a few feet from him, hands oh hips, legs spread slightly, and glowered at him. When he realized she wasn't going to move, he quickly got behind her and dropped to his knees. Not only did she remain still, she didn't bend over or spread her legs further.
Frustrated, he had to assume an awkward, half-kneeling position with his head and neck tilted up. Since her buttocks were large and weighty, he could lick the crevice of her ass but could barely get at her asshole with his tongue. He licked and jabbed away but was getting nowhere. He was thinking, and rightfully so, that she was making it too difficult. The crazy thing was that he had come to the point where he actually wanted her damn, dirty hole--and now she wouldn't give it to him. Finally, he took the liberty of imploring, "Bend over! Spread your legs! Anything!"
"Why didn't you say so?" she said disdainfully. With that, she got down on her hands and knees in front of him.
Hudson went forward on his elbows. Now it was all right; not perfect, but good enough. Her cheeks were spread and the puckered hole was clearly accessible. He nuzzled his face in the crevice and began licking. Ah, that was more like it--the surface of his tongue rasping on the crinkled structure. His eyes were closed and he had just started to push his tongue into the anal opening. She crawled forward half a foot without warning.
He almost fell on his face but caught himself. He was willing to attribute her move to a shift in position--and he was wrong. She looked back over her shoulder and yelled at him, "Come on, you shit! You either keep up or get out. . . and you know what that means! When I move, you move. But the tongue stays in the asshole!"
At once he bent his head and started licking only to have her crawl forward on knees and elbows and again made lingual contact with her ass. Then she started crawling forward steadily but slowly. It forced him to match her pace and all the while attempting to penetrate the hole which he suspected she was keeping purposely clamped. He had barely gauged the movement when she stopped abruptly His head bumped her padded cheeks and his nose, rather than his tongue, pushed the anus. He had hardly recovered when she crawled again. The next time she stopped, she farted, causing him to miss a breath and lose contact momentarily. It was maddening!
She toured the circumference of the small sitting area before the fireplace. It was a fitful journey for Hudson, littered as it was with starts and stops, breakaway dashes, false starts and false stops, and an occasional long-distance sprint. Nevertheless, at the finish, he had acquitted himself moderately well. She had stayed still long enough to enable him to provide her with an anal orgasm.
"I'd say one good turn deserves another,"
Miss Duke chuckled after the game of follow-the-asshole. "That felt good. Now we'll do something that will make you feel good."
Hudson perked up at the words. Since she had reached her desired kind of climax, her reference could only mean that she was going to find a way to get his load off. He half hoped that she would help him into a position to suck his own cock again. On the other hand, perhaps she had devised something new that would be even more exciting. He waited anxiously.
She read the look on his face, inferred its meaning, and laughed maliciously. "Did you think I meant getting you to come? Don't be more of an ignorant shit than you already are. What I meant was that I'm going to let you eat my cunt. You know I don't get that much of a bang out of. So for you, it'll be a real treat. It will, won't it?"
"Oh, yes! Yes, a great treat. Thank you!"
She stared at him with a frown. "On second thought, it would leave me hung up. Unless, of course, I could do something while you were eating me that would make up for it." Her lips curled back lewdly. "I know! I've got it! I'll piss on you while you're licking my cunt. Doesn't that sound wonderful!?"
Hudson blanched. He had heard everything. "I ...I... can't..."
The mock enthusiasm went out of Miss Duke's voice. "You not only can but you will. You just sit there and think about it while I go get a water pill."
She returned fingering herself and smiling sadistically. She also held a folded towel which she placed on the floor. "I wouldn't want to get my rug wet. So I have a little advice for you. The more piss you can drink, the less will be left to soak through the towel and possibly to the rug. I guarantee you I can piss enough to make quite a puddle. That towel is no real protection. You're the only person that can save the rug. I suggest you get ready for a long drink. Because if the rug gets wet, I'll tell the madame that you failed her. Is that understood?"
Trembling, he nodded. He got on the floor on his back, placed his head on the square of toweling, toweling that looked paper thin to him.
Miss Duke placed her feet by his shoulders and squatted directly above his head. She lowered her ass until her cunt brushed Hudson's face. "Lick it!" she demanded. He began by tonguing her uncertainly. He had no knowledge of that sort of thing. Was her bladder in some way connected with her sexual response? If he ate her strongly and vigorously, would he delay her pissing? Or the other way around? He realized he had no way of knowing how the filthy deed happened. Coin cid en tally, as he lay licking the thick lips and heavy folds of her cunt and anticipating the foul discharge, his erection shrank. His balls tightened and crinkled and his cock fell flabbily on his belly. It was the first time that had ever happened in a sexual situation.
His tongue was slurping deep in her cunt and her vaginal lips covered his own. He had been at it for at least ten minutes, he figured. As each second ticked, his dread became more imperative. Then he heard her breath quicken and saw her thighs tense. It was coming--coming!
The first spurt hit his face and splattered between his eyes! The dirty bitch had done it on purpose, his mind screamed as he struggled to clamp his mouth over the hot stream! She had twitched her cunt just as she let go. Frantically, Hudson gulped. He neither tasted nor smelled. The idea was no longer nauseous to him. It came down to a matter of survival. Drink, drink, don't spill any! It was all he could think of as he swallowed and lapped. Yet he could feel his mouth overflowing and the hot, thin liquid ran over his chin and cheeks and down his neck. He gulped more furiously.
Suddenly, as abruptly as it had started, the stream of piss was cut off. Miss Duke laughed wildly. She raised herself up off his head. When her cunt was six inches away, she let loose a spurt at him. He opened his mouth as wide as possible to catch it. Some he caught, some splashed in his face. She spurted at him again. This time he was waiting--he got all but a few drops. Then she raised herself another inch and spurted. His mouth went after the vile fluid with his lips working like a goldfish. She raised herself even higher. Ten inches. A foot. Higher. Spurt, spurt, spurt!
No matter how he thrashed his head, he continually missed. Finally, Miss Duke simply emptied her bladder and sent a last, stinging stream of piss over his face and neck. When she began to dribble, she lowered her cunt to his lips once again for him to suck up the last drops.
The sight of the soaked towel and the splattered rug nearly made Hudson cry. Tears welled up in his eyes and he turned bitterly to Miss Duke. "It wasn't my fault! You moved!"
"Of course I moved, piss face," she laughed. "That's the way the game is played. The madame would stand a yard away and expect you to get every last drop. You weren't good enough, that's all."
"It isn't fair!" Hudson blurted.
"Shut up! Who the hell do you think you are? Who needs you?"
He balked at the stinging words. The answer to her last question was obvious--no one needed him. He was the one who had the overwhelming need. He bit his tongue. He was still on his knees while protesting. Miss Duke was standing above him. He reached out impulsively and grabbed one of her legs. He clung to her, his face upward and pleading. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I argued! Please give me another chance. I beg you, one more chance!"
She pushed him away from her leg in a gesture of contempt. "One more chance!" she crowed. "You sniveling asshole! All right, I'll give you one more chance. But only one. Take it or leave it."
"You'll clean up that mess on my rug first. There are sponges and cleaner under the bathroom sink. The girls are just returning from the movies. I'm going to check on them. When I return, you better have that rug looking like it just came out of the cleaners."
Hudson scrubbed diligently in her absence, and the rug was stainless and almost rubbed dry by the time she returned. He was giving the carpet a final pat with a dry cloth when he heard the door close and turned around. To his horror, Miss Duke had brought a girl in with her. Naked and on all fours, he was paralyzed with embarrassment.
"You know Jan Carlton," Miss Duke said as if they were meeting in the hallway outside of class. The tall, full-bodied redhead simply nodded and smiled. Hudson neither spoke nor moved. He watched the two females come to the center of the room. Miss Duke had put on a robe when she left. She took it off, revealing her nakedness again, and then nodded to Jan. The girl, who was similarly dressed, shrugged off her robe and kicked off her slippers.
Hudson's cock began to stir. The contrast in bodies was spectacular. Miss Duke paled beside the green-eyed redhead. Her body was white and smooth and her long legs swept up to a beautiful vee where her cunt nestled amid auburn curls; her tits were firm and ample and possessed cherry red nipples of a startling size. Hudson could understand why such a gorgeous girl would be under the spell of the madame. But it was sheer coercion for them to play dirty little games with Miss Duke. Yet he understood how and why it happened. The woman had just pissed in his face and down his throat and he had begged to stay with her for more. Was Jan going to piss on him? He hoped so; surely she was more stimulating. His cock was once again hard just from looking at her.
Miss Duke slid her arm around the girl and fondled her ass. The girl responded by doing the same to Miss Duke. "Jan is very anal," the teacher said. "In many ways, she's more anal than I am. She loves to give as well as receive. Jan, tell him what I promised you tonight."
The girl smiled dreamily. "I'm going to lick Miss Duke's asshole . . . and she's going to let me stay all night and sleep with my face in it."
"Now tell him why I'm giving you this reward."
"Because I'm going to shit in your mouth," she said, looking directly at Hudson. "Miss Duke says you'd love to eat some shit tonight. I think that's really wild. I'm so glad I held on. There's another girl, Bessie Dunbar, and she's a shit-eating bird from way back ... I mean, she even eats her own. . . she has since she was a kid. Well, sometimes on weekends I save a little for her. But then Miss Duke came by and asked me. It's my lucky night, I guess . . . and yours, too, Mr. Hudson."
He wondered how thin or wide was the line between perversion and insanity. If Jan was perverted, then he was insane. Or was she insane and he perverted? He didn't know if there was an answer. He looked from the girl to Miss Duke. She was staring at him with cold, meaningful eyes. He understood the threat--and the promise. His last chance. He looked back at the girl and managed to get out the words, "Yes, Jan, I'd like very much for you to shit in my mouth."
Shortly, he once again found himself lying on his back, staring up at the bottom of a squatting female. It was a different view, though. Jan's bright, rosy anus was aimed directly at his mouth. Miss Duke had gotten down and adjusted the distance; she wanted him to see it coming out before he actually ate it. She's trying to trap me, he thought.. . she's betting that the sight of it will scare me and I'll turn my head. Partially, his determination to foil Miss Duke's so-called ploy lessened his aversion to the crap he was about to receive.
Above him, he heard the girl's bowels growl. She grunted, then said, "It's in there, I can feel it. It's a good hard one, too .... and they're the best kind." She continued to grunt..
Hudson was sweating as he watched the asshole clench and unclench while she strained to push out the foul substance. A moment later the puckered anus parted and stayed open. Then he saw it coming. A blackish knob poked bluntly out of the asshole. It came further and further, like a miniature chocolate prick coming backwards out of a tight cunt. Suddenly, the spell of his fascination was broken by the-realization that he wasn't just under there to watch it--he had to eat it!!
He shoved his head up and let the hot turd come in his mouth. He bit and chewed and gobbled--gulping frantically--as it came plummeting out. He gnashed his mouth against her asshole and desperately devoured the vile discharge as near to the source as he could get.
And all the time, Jan Carlton, who could feel his lips and mouth snapping and slurping at her ass, was shivering with sublime ecstasy. She strained and grunted harder than ever. She wanted him to have absolutely every drop and chunk of it--he seemed to love it so!
For his part, Hudson had to wonder where it was all coming from. Shortly, though, the question was moot. She was through with the filthy deed. His tongue cleaned what smeared and spilled shit he could. When she finally pulled away from him, his face looked like he'd been hit with a blackberry pie. He knew it wasn't fruit he'd eaten, however. Yet, at the moment, that didn't matter. What mattered was that he had done it.
Miss Duke allowed him to wash cursorily, then ordered him out. He had stumbled halfway across the cold, dark lawn when the full impact of his degradation hit him. He became violently ill. He retched and puked so long and hard that he was half frozen by the time he reached his room. There was only one comfort to the sickening affair--that he would soon see the madame.
CHAPTER TEN
Hudson's name appeared on the faculty roster as one of the two chaperones scheduled for the Saturday night dance. He was morose over the fact. He fully expected that this could be the night that the madame beckoned him, and he wanted nothing to impair the amount of time he could spend with her. As the late afternoon wore on, though, there was no word. He had a sullen dinner in the boy's dorm, oblivious to anything but the plate before him. To say he was distracted would be to stretch the definition. He was acting like a zombie with one thought in mind. After what he had sacrificed of his sexuality, she could not possibly ignore him any longer. Yet it appeared that she was doing just that.
He attended the dance in body only. He hardly saw the students gyrating and swaying to amplified rock music. At one point, though, he observed sourly that the music certainly suited a group of thirty-some sexually inverted youngsters. The two sexes really didn't have to dance with one another. Some of the more sensual displays of body English were no doubt intended to attract members of the same sex rather than the opposite. Even so, a couple of girls asked him to dance but he refused as politely as he could.
Elaine Duke was the other chaperone. After an initial strained greeting, she kept well away from him for which he was extremely grateful. He was willing enough to live with the previous night's base degradation, but he didn't want to be reminded of it. It was for that reason that he avoided Jan Carlton, too. He saw the redheaded student talking with Miss Duke and saw her glance in his direction. A moment later she was crossing the dance floor and coming his way. He knew what they were up to. The girl, who wore her sexual abnormality like it was just plain fun, was probably going to thank him or otherwise discuss the gross scene. Well, he wouldn't have it.
He left the dance floor abruptly and went to the men's room. He tried to urinate but couldn't. Holding his cock, he squeezed it and looked down at it. He had to ask himself what good it was doing him. With the exception of his first night at Mt. Arcadia, all it had meant to him was a constant discomfort and an occasional instance of indulgent self-gratification. He envied the others: Blake and Slade with their soft little boys; Duke, Hutton, and the madame with their very defiant relationships with the girls. He alone was the loser, and he could no longer begin to fathom why. Useless, utterly useless cock, he muttered to himself.
He was zipping up his pants and about to flush the urinal when he heard the giggling coming from one of the two toilet stalls. He quickly leaned down and counted four feet in one stall. The sneaky little bastards, he thought. As chaperone, he was supposed to regulate the toilet traffic. It was a firm school rule that at any coeducational activities there was to be no overt sexual contacts. This was because three times a year parents were allowed on weekends to visit. Hardly any ever showed, but it would not do for those that did to see any obvious signs of homosexuality, male or female. The parents, of course, knew all about the strong discipline and the corporal punishment, but they were ignorant of the sexual manifestations. The no-contact rule stayed in force all year long to condition the students for those special weekends.
Hudson stepped quickly and silently up to the toilet door and yanked it open. Two sixteen year-old boys, Ken and Richard, were startled. Ken was sitting on the toilet, his pants down, playing with his cock and sucking Richard's cock as the latter stood in front of him. Both of them were scared speechless. They realized that to break a rule of this magnitude would subject them not only to severe whippings but enforced isolation and suspension of all privileges.
Hudson's first impulse was to berate them and send them back to the dorm where Blake would gleefully dish out the discipline. A second thought, however, a devious one, crept into his mind. With all the weird sexuality that was rampant at the school, what the two boys were doing was relatively normal. More important, why should Blake be able to indulge his own odd pleasures at the young pair's expense? Hudson looked at them sternly but without anger.
"You're both aware of the consequences of this, aren't you?" The boys nodded solemnly. "On the other hand, I can't see that what you were doing was so terribly wrong. You just picked the wrong place. There's a possibility that I could be persuaded to give you a break."
Their faces brightened with hope. Richard stuttered, "P-p-please, sir, we'd do anything for you if you didn't report us! Wouldn't we, Ken?" The other boy bobbed his head up and down frantically.
Hudson pursed his lips to indicate he was thinking. "Hmm, maybe we could work something out. What you were doing, you know, is something I enjoy myself." Through his trousers, he casually rubbed his cock which had grown along with his idea. Both boys followed his hand with their eyes. They understood and smiled. "I understand there's a storeroom in back of the stage. You two go back to the dance, then slip off there. I'll be along in ten minutes."
Hudson was alive and alert, but he purposely acted preoccupied when he re-entered the dance. He shuffled around, much as he had earlier. Miss Duke glanced at him once but no more. He went to the refreshment booth and picked up a soft drink. He drank it stoically and wandered to the end of the room. Then he went around behind the stage. The "stage" was formerly the altar area when the auditorium had been a chapel. The storeroom in question contained piles of hymn books and religious trappings. These were only brought out on the three visitors' days. Hudson quickly let himself into the room. The boys were waiting.
"We have to be quick," Hudson said. "Let's see what I saw in that toilet." He pointed to their crotches. Immediately, both boys opened their pants and pulled out their cocks. Hudson stepped up to them and gripped each young prick firmly. "Very nice. Both of you." The cockflesh felt good in his hands. They had gone partially soft, but now he felt them grow hard and rigid in his grasp. He teased the shafts and dug in and tickled their balls. Their expressions told him how much they were enjoying it. Their pleasure, however, was secondary to his own. He let go of them and undid his belt, letting his pants and shorts fall to his knees. With satisfaction, he watched their eyes open wide at the sight of his huge erection. His cock was easily larger than both of theirs combined.
"Oh, wow!" Ken exclaimed. Richard was quick to echo the sentiment.
"There's enough here for both of you. Come on." Hudson said and waggled it temptingly. "Why don't you both take a lick at it at once?"
They knelt in front of him and crowded up to his legs. "You suck the head first, Ken. Richard, you can lick my balls and the rest of it." Richard squirmed underneath and caressed the hairy testicles with his tongue. Ken had to open his mouth extraordinarily wide just to get it over the flushed crown. Once positioned, they worked feverishly.
Hudson could not begin to tell them how exquisite it felt--nor would he under the circumstances. But he thanked fate for having dealt him the two lovely mouths that evening. Tight, burning sensations bubbled up in his crotch as the young pair licked and sucked. Damn! If there were only time, he could prolong the ecstasy for hours. He must not ignore the time--he directed the boys to switch. Ken now slithered his tongue around and under the hot shaft and kneaded his balls. Richard sucked strongly and deeply, bobbing his head back and forth and taking nearly half of the tremendous stem into his mouth.
"Who wants my cum?" Hudson asked hoarsely. They both cried out for it. "All right. You can suck in turn." He positioned them so their mouths were only inches apart. He pushed his cock first between one set of hungry, gaping lips, stroked two or three times, then switched to the second mouth without losing the rhythm.
Back and forth he went. He realized that the boys were competing with each other. It was a contest to see who could suck the hardest, who could actually trigger his ejaculation. It was tremendous! And to add to his visual excitement, he saw that the boys were jerking each other off as they knelt side by side.
He felt the old, familiar knot in his balls. He felt the pinching ache as his juice surged outward. "I'm coming!" he groaned. His cock was in Richard's mouth. The boy gave a fantastic suck and got the first spurt. Instantly, Hudson switched to Ken's frantic lips. Some of his cum splattered on their faces in the transfer, but both were oblivious to it. A burning shot for Ken--then back to Richard. More cum splattered. Ken's lips slipped and the spurting cock slithered free. Head to head, the two boys fought with their mouths to capture the slick thing that was tossing its last drops of cum. Without even thinking what he was doing, Hudson swung the heavy, wet cock back and forth, banging the lips and tongues that groped for it. His hardness had not diminished a fraction. When the boys had licked up the final seed, he looked down at their shiny, cum-splattered faces and felt like a man again for the first time in two weeks.
It was at that moment the storeroom door swung open and Hudson found himself staring into the enraged face of Dr. Slade! Hudson stood by on hollow legs while the headmaster sent the boys back to their dorm under a thunderhead of threats and curses. When they were gone, the normally twinkling, round man swung on Hudson.
"You're a blind fool and you'll pay for this!" Slade hissed. "I came over to the dance to relieve you at Madame Mattel's request. She wanted you to join her this evening. You'll join her all right, Hudson. I'm taking you over there right now. She'll hear this . .. this unbelievable story from me!"
Hudson was shivering uncontrollably as he stumbled out of the storeroom after Dr. Slade.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
"You amaze me, Bradford, you truly amaze me," Madame Martel said as she paced before him in her living room. "After all the time and effort I've expended on you. Now this bloody stupid thing tonight. You're not very bright, you know. It should have occurred to you long before you came to Mt. Arcadia that you were accident prone. I'm referring specifically to the useless thing that hangs between your legs. Both before and after your arrival here, it has given you nothing but trouble. You, of course, are too stupidly vain to see that. The joys of sensual pleasure, my foolish friend, are not found nestled in anyone's crotch. I refer to the supreme joys, naturally. The peasantry, the timid, the puritanical, common-minded riff-raff--yes, their idea of sexual ecstasy rests distinctly in their balls and clitorises. Few of them will ever have the privilege of knowing otherwise. But you, you were offered the opportunity to expand your sexual psyche to unlimited horizons. And all you have done is to persist in failing us."
Hudson sat rigidly listening to her lecture. What completely amazed and worried him was that she was very calm and rational. Dr. Slade, as he had promised, had brought him to her quarters and proceeded to relate what he had walked in on in the storeroom. The madame had listened to it all impassively. She told Slade that she would take care of it and to leave Hudson in her hands. Hudson had expected the worst as the headmaster left. But she hadn't even raised her voice.
Another , thing mystified him, too. The madame had sent for him without knowledge, of course, of the indiscretion that had been taking place. And yet she was not wearing any exotic or bizarre clothing. She was dressed in a skirt and blouse, ordinary hose and heels. She was stunning even in such casual attire, yet it was something Hudson never expected to see in her own sanctuary. Furthermore, she was calling him Bradford with a civility he had thought to be long abandoned. It added up to--no, the problem was that it didn't add up at all.
"I want you to realize how hard I've worked with you," the madame said. "I purposely arranged to have Hope Fairchild bump into you that evening and let it be known that Miss Duke served as an intermediary. You took the hint, as I intended, and you applied yourself quite well. Then I had the girls visit you during the week. Again, you acquitted yourself nicely. The same with Miss Duke that night. It was all planned, you see, even the detail of bringing down Jan Carlton at the end. She had been told early in the day to save her shit until it was needed. Now all that was done on your behalf. And how are we repaid? You intimidate two young boys into satisfying your sexual vanity."
Hudson could not think. His head ached trying to sort out her words. No matter how hard he tried, though, he could find logic in what she said. Yes, yes, he could see it. She had done it all for him. He had betrayed her. There was nothing he could say. His shame was too deep.
The madame walked to her sideboard and poured herself a sherry without offering him any. She took a sip and twirled the glass thoughtfully. "Well, Bradford, let's come to a decision about you. This last piece of news has been shattering, to say the least. I'll be frank with you. I don't think you're ready for Mt. Arcadia."
Her statement jolted him. He started to speak, but she cut him off. "Don't blame yourself entirely. After all, we investigated your background quite thoroughly. We even talked to that teacher who was involved in the sex scandal with you. A Miss Carter, I think her name was.
She was a great witness to your sexual appetite and your leanings toward more erotic expression. Naturally, we took such testimony into consideration. By the way, you may be interested to know we even offered her a job up here. Unfortunately, she's sworn never to teach again . . . and we couldn't very well explain what it would actually be like. She's a prostitute now, you know, and apparently building up quite a clientele in St. Louis. Anyway, as I was saying, it was our evaluation that you would work out here. There wasn't any real evidence, you see, of the accident prone tendency that I've been talking about. You offered promise, but promises and dreams are often meant to be unfulfilled, aren't they?"
Inexplicably and involuntarily, Hudson began to cry. Great tears ran down his cheeks and he shook in convulsions and sobs. He blubbered unintelligently. Pleading sounds came forth and his fingers groped fruitlessly to aid his meaning. It was a painful, pitiful sight, and the madame was not unmoved. She walked up to him and lifted his chin with her hand. Her expression was almost compassionate. "There, there now," she consoled him. "I didn't know you felt that deeply. Go ahead and cry. It's all right. Perhaps it's just made me see something that I might have overlooked. To see you cry like this is an indication that you've lost a good deal of your male sexual vanity. Perhaps it shows that you're willing to rid yourself of all of it."
Through his tears and sobs, Hudson managed to nod plaintively. "Pl-pl-please d-don't send me away!" he begged.
"If I agreed to let you stay, you would have to be punished quite harshly for what you've done."
"Oh, yes! Please punish me! I want you to ... I beg you to!"
"I'll have to whip you," she said. "It will be very painful."
"Yes, whip me, please! Painful, yes... I deserve it!"
"I'm gratified to hear you say that. It shows a definite loss of vanity. Very well, then, you've swayed me. I'll punish you and reconsider sending you away on one condition. You must agree that it's your cock and only your cock that's always given you trouble. You must not only agree, you must believe it. You must further avow that you will never again use it as a masculine symbol. If that ever happens, it will have to be punished severely."
"I agree ... I swear to you!" he wailed.
Her voice was suddenly in character: harsh and commanding. "Then prepare yourself for punishment. Get your clothes off and get down on all fours. When I get back I want to see at least three fingers fucking your cunt."
"My ... my c-cunt?"
"Your asshole," she sneered. "From this moment on, your asshole is going to be your cunt. Your cock no longer exists."
Hudson was indeed reaming his asshole with three fingers when she returned from the bedroom live minutes later. He looked up and felt accepted. She had changed clothes. It was by far the most bizarre, the severest costume he had ever imagined her to wear. A shudder of excitement ran through him as she stood imperiously over him. She wore the same, old-fashioned spike-heeled boots that he had seen the first time he had been humiliated by her. There were no nylons or garter belt, however. In their place, she wore a chain belt connected to another chain that ran from a point below her navel along the crease of her cunt and underneath and up the crevice of her ass and there attached to the belt chain. The most amazing aspect of the chain girdle, however, were the prominent spikes, three of them, that jutted out just over her cunt.
Her bra, if one could call it such, was also made of chains. It merely surrounded each monumental tit with a ring of links and was fastened both in the back and by a neck strap. Her entire tits remained bare except that the nipples were covered. Small metal cups, each adorned with a long, pointed spike, capped each breast. She was the ultimate picture of inviolate dominance. Any man attempting a sexual embrace with her would be mutilated.
She had brought along some implements, also. She put a heavy metal collar around Hudson's neck and snapped it shut. To its hasp, she connected a long, broad leather strap which passed under him and up between his legs. In her hand, she carried a whip with three leather thongs.
The madame slapped the center rein viciously. It snapped upward against his belly and cock and his balls. Then she lashed his ass with the thonged whip. Hudson shuddered under the sting but did not cry out.
"Move!" she ordered. "We're going to the bedroom."
A wicked slap of the rein, another vicious lash, and Hudson started forward. She whipped him at every move he made. The stinging of the slender thongs was excruciating. They struck indiscriminately. They hit his thighs and the cheeks of his ass--but they also whipped into his balls and asshole. He surged forward, but there was no escaping the blows. He headed toward the bedroom as the sharp lashes continued to rain down on him. Suddenly, the madame yanked the under-rein. His head jerked down and he tumbled forward. The whipping never ceased and he struggled to his feet and started again. At last he banged his head into the bedroom door and bumped it open. The lashing ceased. He stared uncomprehending at the awful room.
It was less of a bedroom than it was torture chamber. A massive four-poster bed dominated the room. It was, however, unlike any four-poster Hudson had ever seen. It was not ornamental and canopied. The posts were four-by-four beams that soared to the ceiling and were abutted by support and cross-beams at the ceiling. From both the beams and the posts, at odd and various positions, dangled numerous shackles and straps. The baseboard of the oversized bed was extremely high and split horizontally. It was, in effect, a set of punishment stocks that could hold two people at once. Mounted on one wall and covering an area nearly six-foot square was a board that held dozens of whips of various shapes and styles, dildos of all description, handcuffs, straps, and paraphernalia beyond Hudson's understanding. There were mirrors everywhere. An ominous-looking padded bench with pegs protruding round it stood alone beyond the bed. And the madame had not closed portions of her mirror-faced wardrobe when she had changed into her present attire. Hudson saw a mass of leather and vinyl and satin crowded on hooks above a rack of boots. In the entire room, there was only one normal item--a dressing table laden with cosmetics and feminine grooming items. It looked entirely out of place.
"Stand up, cunt!" the madame ordered. "Walk to the whips." He stood before the display of torment. "Now choose the instrument of your just punishment."
Hudson surveyed the terrible selection. He remembered that Hope Fairchild had selected the strap because she had considered it especially painful. Above all, he did not want to give the impression that he was hedging on his attitude toward punishment. "The strap, please," he said, still squirming from the initial lashing.
"So be it. Take it off its hook and put it on the bed." When he had done so, she positioned him at the side of the bed. "Spread your legs and hold up your arms!"
On the overhead beam he stood directly under, a pair of manacles hung, fastened to the wood with heavy chains. Near his feet were similar shackles. She clamped each wrist into an iron cuff. He was spread-eagled upright, unable to exercise any movement except to twist and sway. He faced the bed; his backside was completely exposed to the madame--and the strap.
"Tell me again, cunt. Tell me how you want to be punished." For emphasis, she whacked the strap across the black-satin covered bed.
"Whip me!" he groaned. "Please whip me and strap me! I need it... I deserve it!"
"Very well, you shall have it. Like ... this!"
His ass suddenly erupted in pain! The scream was out of his throat before he could even think.
"And . .. this!"
"Ahiiyee!" He twisted violently in the shackles and rattled the chains!
"Be still, you cunt... your mouth and your ass both," she spat. "This is only the beginning. Instead of pissing and moaning, your time would be better .spent learning to like it." She swung again. "Do you like it?"
He screamed! She lashed viciously. "Do you like it?"
His answer was a choked cry and a gurgle, as were his replies to the next dozen savage strokes. After each, she asked her question. Finally, his mind and senses flipped over and he mumbled, "Yes, yes, I... I like it!" And he was positive that he meant it.
The madame strolled around the bed and viewed him straight on. "Very good," she said, staring at his limp cock. "I see part of the lesson has sunk in already. You'll be a full-fledged cunt before you know it." She leisurely crawled on the bed and slithered across to him. When she knelt upright, his flaccid phallus was just below her spear-tipped, chained tits. She smiled at him seductively and cooed, "Remember how you used to love to rub your cock on big tits? Remember back in that town you came from? Miss Carter with the big tits? The first night you had her, you fucked her tits. You not only fucked them, but you came all over them and had her lick up your filthy slime, didn't you? Answer me!"
"I . . . yes, all right, I did that!"
"Don't you want to fuck my tits, cunt? Look at them! You see, they're every inch as big as hers and twice as beautiful. Go ahead, get a hard-on. Put your fat, dirty hard cock right between my tits. Or better yet, rub the nipples. Well, cunt, why do you hesitate?"
Hudson could not even keep his eyes focused on the sharp projectiles on the cups that covered her nipples. They would impale his cock like a pig on a spit. One slash and all the veins and cords would be sliced through like a straight razor cut a throat. His penis shriveled at the thought.
She laughed at the sight of the cock shrinking back into the folds of flesh "Perhaps you'll remember this when you find yourself thinking with your cock again. I, for one, would advise you simply to consider yourself the cunt that you are."
The madame took one of her beautiful tits in both hands and lifted it. Leaning down, she moved the tit to and fro, feigning and jabbing with the spear-pointed nipple.
Hudson cringed in horror. He jerked on his chains and tried to move his crotch backwards. "Good God! Don't! No!" he screamed.
She didn't laugh at him that time. She pulled away slowly. "Think about it, cunt!"
CHAPTER TWELVE
Bradford Hudson had considerable time to "think about it." The madame left him hanging in his muscle-wracking chain harness for two hours while she "entertained" an unseen girl in the parlor. She had changed from the spiked costume into a less threatening fetish. She had also left the door open a crack so that he could hear the girl being spanked on the bare ass--and hear, too, her expressive cries of pleasure.
In that time, Hudson could only agonize his painful restraint, the outer sounds, and his reflection in the mirror opposite him. It was a bizarre image if ever he had seen one: his body, stretched and spread; his eyes ringed and hollow; his complexion sallow; his cheeks gaunt; and his cock--his once, proud cock--pinched and cowering. It was a sight that would have sent most men into screaming delirium. Hudson found it perversely exciting. He could hardly wait for Britt Martel to return and whip him once more.
She fulfilled his expectations in spades. She used a long, thick whip that made terrifying whistling sounds as it slashed toward his helpless, quaking ass. At one point, she threatened to gag him if he didn't stop screaming. Somehow, he managed to stifle his anguished outbursts and, in the end, was able to tell her again that the whipping had thrilled him.
Hudson was not allowed to return to his own room that night. Released from the shackles, he was put into the stocks which were the baseboard of the bed. He knelt at the foot and placed his neck and wrists in the holes; the hinged top piece clamped him in and was padlocked. Since the holes of the stocks were just above the mattress on the bed side, he could rest his head but was still forced to retain his body in a confining kneeling and crouching position on the floor. It was made even more awkward and uncomfortable due to the rounded pole, similar to the top of a broom handle, that the madame inserted in his asshole. And, if this wasn't enough to insure a fitful rest for Hudson, she required him to lick and suck her toes while she fell asleep. Eventually, he too found sleep mainly out of exhaustion.
In the morning, he was awakened by a loud crack and a searing pain that flashed through his ass and up his spine. The first words he heard were the madame screaming, "You miserable cunt!" To his horror, he realized that he had a morning erection, a frequent occurrence of Hudson's awakenings. Before he could protest that it was a phenomenon out of his control, she yanked the pole out of his ass cruelly.
"Pull your knees back and stick your cunt in the air!" she ordered shrilly. "I can just imagine what kind of dreams you were having. Well, you won't have those kind anymore! I have a way to take care of that."
He could not see her, but he knew she was preparing to whip him. He pushed his ass up and out to gratefully receive the blows and already his erection was diminishing. It did not matter to the madame, however. He took the first vicious crack of a strap directly in the crotch. The pain was so intense that when his lips flew open, the scream caught in his throat. His dangling balls had borne the brunt of the blow. It was a pain like no other he had ever known. It was a pain so intense that his whole nervous system nearly went into shock. He could not speak or cry. He could not even move, except for the convulsive spasms that jangled him. Then the madame proceeded to strap his ass and thighs. By comparison, he felt immense relief. She stopped, some fifteen strokes later, only when his cock had shriveled to less than a third of its erect size.
The madame allowed him bathroom privileges, then ordered him to dress. "I'm sending you to Miss Hutton," she said sternly. "She's expecting you and it's all arranged. You're to do exactly as she tells you, and you're to allow her to do anything she pleases. When she's through with you, report back here immediately."
Hudson could not imagine why he was being sent to the school dispensary. If the madame had arranged for the lesbian nurse and gym teacher to use him as an object of humiliation, such as Miss Duke had, he would have thought her quarters would have been more appropriate. But he was beyond questioning anything that happened at Mt. Arcadia. He entered the dispensary and she was waiting for him, dressed in a white nurse's smock.
"Come in but don't sit down," she said and moved behind him to lock the door. "Skin down. You can hang your clothes up on that rack." There was no rancor in her voice or attitude. If anything, she seemed to be bemused but was at the same time being professional.
Hudson was in a small waiting room which also served as Miss Hutton's office. "In there," she gestured when he was naked. He walked into the dispensary room. He quickly looked for odd paraphernalia that would indicate something sexual was about to happen. There seemed to be none. The room was typically antiseptic with bottle-filled cabinets, hospital sink, sterilizer, and an examination table covered with a white sheet.
"All right, let me have a look at you," Miss Hutton said. She walked around him as he stood and began touching him. She stroked his thighs and testicles, she ran a finger quickly up the crevice of his ass. Her hand rubbed his belly and brushed the hair on his chest. Then she ran her knuckles over his cheeks and jaw. "It shouldn't be too hard. Thank God you're not an ape."
Hudson was bewildered. "I don't know what you're talking about. I don't even know why I'm here."
"Why, I'm going to shave you, that's why. Your body hair ... all of it. Then we're going to start treating you with a depilatory to prevent regrowth. The beard will be the toughest. You're going to have to be very careful about shaving for a while. The rest though, including the hair on your balls, we should be able to take care of in short order."
"I... I don't understand," he sputtered.
The nurse lifted an eyebrow and curled a lip. "Oh, you understand all right. When the madame says you're going to be a cunt, you're going to be a cunt all the way. Welcome to the club, honey. Now get on the table. We're going to have to do this in sections."
He could not believe what was happening, yet there was a certain deliciousness to it. After seeing the madame's absolutely hairless cunt, he had even wondered what it would be like to be smooth himself. It would have to be the essence of flesh to flesh. With that imagery floating in his brain, he lay back while Miss Hutton, with hot lather and towels and razor, stripped his skin from his cheeks to his toes. The most exciting part to him was when she worked on his crotch and ass. He could feel the pubic hair above his cock come off in large tufts. But up the crevices and around his balls, the razor snicked away in tiny strokes. The fringe of hair around his asshole presented the most difficulty and he was required to crouch on the table and present a fantastic spread. He knew that to certain souls it would be an exciting sight. Even Miss Hutton was not immune. After she had lathered and shaved him, she could not resist jabbing a finger up his asshole.
"Pretty tight for a cunt," she commented, "but not much of an asshole."
Hudson flushed with resentment. The dyke bitch, what did she know? He had to bite his tongue to keep from telling her to keep her fingers and her comments to herself.
When the shaving was completed, a wave of utterly new sensual pleasure swept over him. It was a narcissistic delight to be so profoundly nude. He felt himself all over with gentle caresses. He paraded in front of the mirror and struck poses.
"Okay, princess," Adele Hutton sighed, "you're not through yet." She proceeded to cover his body with a cream that had little odor but caused his skin to warm and tingle. She gave him two extra jars and explained that the depilatory had to be applied once every twenty-four hours. At week's end, he would still require another body shave. Then she produced a vial of capsules and had him take two then and said that they would help the depilatory on an internal basis. Hudson promised sincerely that he would be very diligent in following instructions. He dressed quickly, anticipating the madame's reaction to his extreme new nudity. He thanked Miss Hutton profusely.
On the way out the door, she winked at him and said, "Don't take any shit from the boys, sweetheart."
The madame was patently pleased with the results. She had Hudson parade up and down before her and go through a series of leg-lifting and bending calisthenics after which she pronounced the operation a success. Then she opened a wardrobe door that revealed a chest of drawers. From this she produced a pair of stockings and a garter belt. She tossed them to Hudson. "Your first nylons. Go on, put them on."
He was actually trembling with excitement. He pulled the sheer, clinging material over his calves and thighs. When the garter belt was in place, he stole a look in the mirror. When he held his hand over his cock and balls, he was amazed at how feminine he looked from the waist down. Next he was given a pair of high heels. The fit on his foot was perfect but he could not walk on the four-inch heel. He teetered and wavered like a drunk. He was mortified, and the madame gave no indication that she was amused. "You'll learn damn quickly," was her only comment. Next came a pair of panties, bikini style made of strong elastic fabric. When he squeezed into them, he discovered that they effectively compressed the bulge of his cock and balls so that it appeared that he had nothing more than a prominent vaginal mound.
The bra was another matter. Hudson's pectoral muscles were not soft. The madame first tried him in a tight, uplift type bra that pushed the breast into a mound, but it was not enough to satisfy her. She then equipped him with a set of falsies and a full bra shaped so that only the closest inspection would reveal the truth.
"Now you're beginning to look like a cunt," she gloated. "Get over to the dressing table and we'll finish off the rest of you."
She gave him the works: makeup base, powder, lipstick, eye shadow, and false eyelashes. She plucked his eyebrows and applied pencil. She shadowed his face and narrowed his nose and lessened the masculine line of his jaw. She applied long, false fingernails to his own. The final touch was a brunette wig fashioned in a flamboyant swirl of curls.
He could not believe it. The transformation was stupendous. He stared at the strange but familiar image in the mirror, an image with breasts and apparently no cock, and he whispered to himself, Cunt, cunt, cunt! He sorely wished that one of the madame's girls would arrive, strap on an artificial cock, and ream him until his ass exploded. Of course, the ultimate pleasure would be for the madame herself to do it. Second best to that fucking would be a nice warm session with the whip. Nothing too punishing, just enough to experience the heat in his new body and his new role.
The madame had other plans, however. She ordered Hudson back to the dressing table. He was ordered to remove the wig, the fingernails, and the eyelashes, wash off all his makeup with cold cream, and begin again by himself. It sounded relatively easy, and he went at it without hesitation. When he was through, she slapped his face. "I want you to look like a cunt, not a circus clown!" she snapped. "Now do it again."
Chagrined, he started over. Upon completion, she slapped his face again and accused him of looking like the comic impersonation of a drunken streetwalker. Before he was allowed to start the third time, she ordered him to practice walking in the high heels. And so it went for the entire afternoon, evening, and late into the night. Even at the end, she was unsatisfied. She gave him a cursory whipping with a riding crop that did not quench the bizarre yearnings of his psyche. When she sent him to his own quarters, it was with a box of silky panties of all styles.
"I never want to see or hear of another pair of men's underwear next to that filthy, useless cock."
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The month of January ended and February came and went. The feminization of Bradford Hudson proceeded unimpaired. Madame Martel had been quite secretive about this project. Though Hudson spent a portion of nearly every night in her quarters, she never again allowed him to confront any of the many girls who also visited her. Unless the madame was to utilize the bizarre bedroom, that is where Hudson would stay while any chastisement or titillation occurred in the main room. Sometimes on these occasions, he was chained and fettered, other times he would preen in his female lingerie and experiment with new makeup techniques. When the madame did bring a girl into the bedroom for harsher punishment and humiliation, she would schedule Hudson's arrival for earlier or later.
During that period, too, very little explicit sex occurred. Of course, the complete and total dominance of Hudson was grossly sexual. As to specific acts, however, there were few. There were the strappings, whippings, and spankings, frequent and regular. There was also continual tormenting and teasing of his asshole. Her subjugation of his cock was an unparalleled success. With the exception of a few unfortunate morning erections at the beginning of his training, never once had the phallus flickered. In fact, he rarely thought of it anymore except as a useless appendage that violated his female image. Hudson was given no opportunity at all to perform even the semblance of a sex act. He had never been allowed to touch the madame in any way that smacked of sexuality.
The closest he came was when he was required to help her dress and undress. That had become one of his duties, the one that was most pleasurable, in fact. He was not allowed bizarre clothing. His attire consisted of common feminine undergarments. He was not allowed to wear leather, vinyl, or rubber and certainly nothing exotic. The madame's only concession in this regard was quantities of black lingerie for him--though he frequently wore pink and white ensembles. Thus Hudson's excitement when he was ordered to lace up the madame's bizarre boots, fasten her garters, or clinch the laces of a boned corset. The boots were an extra thrill, for she frequently demanded that he lick them.
The other duties he performed willingly but with less titillation. He waited on her, of course, hand and foot as the expression goes. He served her drinks, prepared light snacks from the pullman kitchen; he dusted, swept, and cleaned. He prepared her baths--but he was never allowed to assist her in washing or drying. The school furnished domestic help for housekeeping, but the madame had always eschewed the privilege and had it done by the girls. Which was wise considering what the bedroom would have looked like to an Appalachian domestic. With Hudson ensconced, even the girls were no longer necessary. So it was that under the madame's constant demands, harsh criticisms, instant fault finding, and swift punishment, Hudson became an extremely competent maid in short order.
He was only aware of minor changes in his daily schedule. He wore panties, of course, instead of shorts but otherwise dressed as he always had. He sensed, too, that he was more remote from the students and rarely, if ever, displayed any of the humor that was once one of his classroom attributes. That was of minor importance to him, though. He did his job with moderate competence; no teacher at Mt. Arcadia was ever going to win a scholastic excellence award.
He was blind to what the students saw. To those who were observant, it was evident that he was increasingly out-camping Warren Blake. He had started to walk with smaller, mincing steps.
He was taking to striking poses. Even his voice seemed higher. Then there was that funny business about his eyebrows. The boys thought they looked darling, and the girls swore they were plucked.
Hudson would have denied that he was acting swishy in classes. On the other hand, he began to notice peculiar things about his body. Religiously, he applied his depilatory cream and had not, after three weeks, had to have his entire body shaved by Nurse Hutton. There was less trouble, too, with his beard than he had foreseen. When his feminization first started, he had to shave three times a day plus apply the depilatory lavishly. After a month, he was only required to attend his upper lip every other day. Yet none of this explained the peculiarities that developed over a period of time. For one thing, his muscle tone slipped rapidly. His face became softer as did his body skin. Most amazing of all, however, his breasts started to grow.
Madame Martel insisted that he was undergoing a physiological change that directly reflected his psychosexual change. And she stated that she was extremely pleased. In fact, she started him on a program of breast massage. She furnished him with special creams and ointments and made him attend them for prolonged periods. She also had Miss Hutton order a special prescription of supplementary vitamins to go along with the hair-control pills he already took.
Whatever the root reason, it worked. Hudson became extremely narcissistic about his breasts. The larger they grew, the more time he spent massaging and caressing them and toying with his nipples. He started having distinct sexual feelings in his nipples. When out of the supervision of the madame, he would finger his asshole and squeeze his nipples at the same time. Soon he established a definite connection in the sexual sensitivity between the two. With further experimentation, he determined that by playing with his nipples he could create a hot, tingling feeling in his ass. Conversely, by fingering his ass without touching his breasts, he caused the nipples to engorge and grow warm. It was the phenomenally swift increase in the size of his breasts that had him so completely captivated, however.
By the middle of March, Bradford Hudson was wearing a training bra. Three weeks later on an early April night, the madame called him to her apartment. When he arrived, he went directly to the bedroom and, as was the ritual, took off his male clothing and redressed. Nylons and garter belt, high heels, and ...
"That's far enough for now," the madame said. "Go put your makeup on."
He went to the dresser and expertly began applying cosmetics. He was swift and sure and his hand was steady as he worked with the various brushes and pencils. His false eyelashes went on with a flutter; the artificial fingernails were down to a science; he put his wig in place, pouffed it airily, and tilted his head to admire himself in the mirror. He could not help but lower his eyes and admire the swelling tits underneath the feminine face. They were as big as those on some of the girls in the school, he thought jealously.
"All right, get over here," the madame snapped. When he obediently presented himself, she asked, "Do your tits feel heavy?"
"Oh yes, Madame. Very heavy. Heavier than last night."
She reached out and teased the flesh with her strong fingers. In a mete moment, the nipples swelled and blushed. "Do you think they're ready to be sucked?"
"God, yes, Madame. They're aching to be sucked!"
She smiled cruelly. "Then, if they're big enough to be sucked, they're big enough to be punished. Isn't that right?"
Hudson's painted lips trembled. False eyelashes snapped in instant fear. "Oh, no!" he whined. "You can't do that. .. they're too pretty! Please don't hurt them!"
She pinched one of his nipples harshly and made him wince. She tweaked the other one and he gasped. "You fool," she hissed. "Do you think I've spent all these weeks developing these tits just so you could adore yourself in the mirror? Of course they're 'pretty,' as you say. Offhand, I can't think of a single so-called man who's got a pair as lovely. But then, you're not a man, you're a cunt. In fact you've fallen so in love with yourself of late that you're beginning to forget that you're my creation. And what I want to do with something I own, I'll damn well do! Is that perfectly clear?"
Hudson whimpered and shook his head meekly.
"Well, stop your sniveling! You'll only run your mascara."
Hudson quickly stopped and checked his reflection in the mirror. He examined his eyes to make sure his makeup was intact. The madame had taken her hands off his breasts and now she eyed them with pursed lips. A B-cup, she thought, and still growing.
"Quit looking in the mirror, goddamn it! A couple of my girls have been talking to me about you. Even without a bra and under a suit jacket, you're not fooling anyone anymore. Of course, everyone thinks you're a faggot and wearing falsies. But we have to do something about it."
To head off any drastic suggestion she might make, he quickly offered, "I can bind them and flatten them out."
"Now you can. But you still have a little growing to do. Actually, the estrogen can only do so much..."
"Es . .. estrogen! Female hormones?" His voice was high pitched and incredulous.
She stared back with equal incredulity. "Oh, my God, you didn't figure that out? You naive cunt! Of course, we've been giving you female hormones all along. What do you think you've been taking?"
"I ... I was told they were to help remove the hair."
"Certainly! That's a function of female hormones. They also raise the pitch of your voice. They also develop breasts. They also repress any feelings you have .. . here." At the latter word, she had flicked his crotch. "You haven't noticed any stirrings in those dead balls of yours, have you?"
"Only when you whip them," he confessed.
She shook her head sadly as if he were an object of abject pity. "You mean, all these symptoms didn't add up to anything with you? I don't believe I've ever seen a dumber cunt. And an English teacher yet. To hell with it, go get me a drink." She followed him out into the parlor and took a drink off the tray without looking at him. "Bradford," she mused, "we'll have to do something about that. Brad, Betty, Bess, Brenda . . . that's it! Brenda." She turned to him with a victorious smile. "Your new name is Brenda. Brenda Hudson. Miss Brenda Hudson. How do you like it, Brenda?"
He actually blushed. "I like it very much."
"I'll still call you cunt, of course, because that's what you are. But at least you should have a cunt's identity." She drank and thought. "I'll have to get used to the name myself. Let's see. Oh, I have it. Brenda, put down the tray and stick two fingers up your cunt."
Immediately, Hudson set down the tray and put his hand underneath his bikini panties. In a second, the fingers were buried in his asshole, twisting and pumping.
"Now play with your tits, Brenda."
He felt the smooth rounds of flesh and fingered the nipples that were already hard and aching. His eyes were closed and a thin mewing sound escaped from his lips as he stood spread-legged in his high heels and manipulated himself.
"All right, that's enough. Change clothes and get out of here. You've just given me a very nasty idea that you'll love. Be here tomorrow night at seven o'clock sharp."
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Hudson was at the madame's at the prescribed hour. He was anticipating the evening with mixed emotions. It had been quite a while since the madame had thought up any "nasty" amusements. Normally, he would relish anything she had in mind. Now, however, in the advent of his spectacular breast development, there was the distinct possibility that she had thought of a unique way to torment his tits. If only she would leave them alone, he thought plaintively. They more than made up for his extinct cock. And, after all, that was what she had wanted.
Another storm, warning after he had been in the apartment a few minutes was the madame's complete lack of harshness. She was as haughty as ever, but her tone of voice was considerably-less sharp than normal. From the time he arrived to the time he stripped naked and she inspected him for hair, she didn't even call him a cunt. It was "Brenda" this and "Brenda" that. It worried "Brenda."
The next inconsistency came when he inquired if he could draw her bath, a duty he usually performed prior to dressing in his feminine things.
"No, I'm already bathed and dressed, thank you," she said without further amplification.
Dressed? She was wearing a bright-red lounging outfit, a kind of hostess pantsuit with a top that opened in front and was tied with a matching sash. He checked her shoes: stylish red pumps; the heels were quite high, but the square, modern kind. None of it bore any resemblance to her fetish attire.
Since there was no bath to draw, it was time for him to dress. This was when he woke up to the fact that something was quite amiss. She laid out his garments on the bed. Patent heels, black nylons, black satin garter belt.. . good . .. wait ... He blinked at the panties. They were French black lace with a wide-open split crotch. The madame tossed out a half bra. It, too, was black and lacy. And it was the uplift kind that left the nipples and upper hemispheres of the tits completely exposed. Then the madame added two extra items, a dainty white linen apron and a black and white maid's cap. She noted the expression on his face.
"I think you've guessed it, Brenda. You're going to be a French maid this evening. I've decided it's time to show off your charms. I'm going to entertain a guest this evening. At the appropriate time I will call you, and you will come out like a perfect lady and be the perfect maid. Needless to say, I will expect a stellar performance. If you fail me, your tits will bear the full brunt of my displeasure."
She left the bedroom, firmly closing and locking the door. Damn her, Hudson cursed. He would never be able to hear a thing through that heavy, sealed oak door. His mind went wild with speculation about who the guest might be. A student? One of the faculty? In the latter case, male or female? It figured, though, that it was one of the girl students. He settled on Hope Fairchild as the most likely choice. It was she, after all, who had been present during his first visit to this infamous apartment. It was quite like the madame to show off her handiwork to the one person who could make a full comparison. Well, if that's the way it's to be, he thought cattily, I'll give Miss Fairchild something to open her eyes.
He set to dressing and making up with a passion to look his very best. Only the split French panties annoyed him. It meant that his limp cock and balls had to dangle unbound. The apron, of course, would cover them in front. But if he bent over, he was in danger of presenting an unattractive view. He reminded himself to be sure and dip gracefully when he was serving either of them. Holding his legs together and looking over his shoulder in the mirror, he could understand why the madame had chosen the panties. His ass, too, had softened. It was now rounder and fuller. The crotchless panties showed of the cheeks of the exquisite derriere.
In a light mood, he primped and preened until he realized he had been in the bedroom for a considerable length of time. He listened at the door, but it was futile. He heard nothing. He went back to the dressing table and powdered his breasts one more time. He had to admit that the little French bra did wonders for them. Pushed up and out as they were, they were of surprisingly lovely proportions. Nowhere near the glorious monuments of the madame, of course, but certainly a challenge to Miss Fairchild. He estimated that without the bra he would be as large as the girl. With it, she was certain to be jealous. He finished tweaking his nipples to give them a rosy glow just as the door opened and the madame entered.
She examined him with the critical eye of an Inspector General. "Very nice, Brenda, very nice indeed. Now you just do as I say out there and make me very proud of you. Out you go, I'll be right behind you."
Bradford fixed what he thought was his most seductive smile and glided gracefully on his heels through the doorway and into the parlor.
He was three steps into the room when he froze. His eyes saw but did not believe. Hope Fairchild was not there. The entire faculty of Mt. Arcadia School was! Drinks in hand, dressed for a party, smiling, and all staring at him. Dr. Slade, Warren Blake, Miss Duke, and Miss Hutton. Hudson was paralyzed. The madame stepped beside him and took his arm above the elbow. Forcefully but smoothly, she pulled him forward.
"Ladies and gentlemen," the madame announced triumphantly, "I want you all to meet my new maid, Brenda Hudson."
To a person, they all set down their drinks and clapped their hands.
"Bravo!" shouted the headmaster.
"He's simply too gorgeous!" tittered Blake.
"Magnificent!" Miss Duke offered.
"Beautiful. A real original!" Miss Hutton beamed.
Slowly, some of Hudson's senses returned. They continued to praise him and congratulate the madame, too. They hemmed and hawed over his tits, complimented his smooth feminine limbs, lauded his round, soft ass. Hudson, who had expected derision and mockery, warmed to the occasion. He blinked and smiled shyly. With his new husky but feminine voice, he thanked them.
The madame, however, put a quick damper on his socializing. "Brenda! See that everyone has a fresh drink. Also, there's a tray of hors d'oeuvres in the kitchen to be served. When you're through with that, you can replenish the ice bucket. And don't forget the ashtrays and the napkins."
Through long conditioning, Hudson immediately said, "Yes, Madame!" and started functioning as a maid immediately. The comments and compliments continued as he circulated about the room. Some were directed to him, which he demurely answered in keeping with his social status. Others were general. And soon the discussion between the faculty members became quite frank. Miss Hutton discussed the possibilities of female hormones. Blake wanted to know what kind of phallic virility "Brenda" retained and seemed disappointed at the answer. One of the doctor's statements caught their rapt attention.
"Since it's no longer feasible for Mr. Hudson to go on teaching," the headmaster chuckled, "that is, as a mister, the madame and. I have decided to have him continue as a female instructor. The students know about such things, and I think they'll be pleased. Many of the boys will envy him, and most of the girls will think it's delightful that he's joined them."
"Yes," the madame added. "Tonight is Brenda's debut as a female. From now on he'll live as a woman twenty-four hours a day. I've already planned his wardrobe. A slight alteration of his personal records, and Bradford will have never existed. Only Brenda."
Hudson heard all of it as he was serving drinks and snacks. He was surprised because it was news to him, but, after a moment's thought, he wasn't upset. Yes, what could be more simple than to have him change roles completely? Certainly, he'd been miserable the last several weeks, jumping back and forth from male to female.. And it was especially awkward when his breasts began to grow prominent. Indeed, a complete transformation would solve everything. He was pleased and managed to smile his appreciation to the madame.
She did not smile back. "Bring me an hor d'oeuvre, Brenda," she said coldly. She lifted an appetizer from the tray, then deliberately let it slip. Without warning, she exploded, "You clumsy cunt! Can't you hold the tray steady! Get down on the floor and clean up that mess!"
Rattled and stunned, Hudson started to bend down, then didn't know what to do with the tray. He lost all composure. The madame was screaming in his ear, "Pick it up, you dumb cunt!" Finally and awkwardly, he managed to scrape up the offensive tidbit.
The madame was on her feet. "Come here!" she ordered. "You're ruining my party! You know what I told you earlier. Now stick out your tits."
On the brink of tears, Hudson took a deep breath and pushed out his almost naked tits. The madame took a nipple in each hand and twisted viciously. "No, no!" he squealed.
Staring directly into his fluttering, damp eyes, the madame gave him a look that caused him to quake. "I give up on you," she hissed with exaggerated exasperation. "As a maid, you're a shit! You're only good for one thing." She turned to the four faculty members. "I say we all ought to take advantage of what he, she, or it is only good for. How do the rest of you feel?"
The rest of them grinned and nodded. It was Pr. Slade who actually started it. He unzipped his pants and lifted out a grotesquely fat, semi-rigid cock. "I'm partial to young boys," he said with obvious relish, "but it might be fun for a change to feel the mouth of a pretty girl."
"You heard him, cunt!" the madame told Hudson. "Get down on it!" She put a hand in the middle of his back and shoved him forward.
He fell on his knees before the pudgy schoolmaster. Whimpering, he put his ruby-tinted lips on the head of the cock and began to suck feebly. Dr. Slade grunted in disgust at the halfhearted effort and he, too, cruelly plucked at Hudson's nipples. It caused an instant reaction. Hudson's mouth flew open wider and engulfed the thick, now rigid prick. He understood only that he was a cocksucker at the madame's orders. He was confused and hurt, sorry and humiliated. One moment he had been riding the crest of admiration and now he was choking on the cock of an admirer. It made no sense, but he couldn't put it together.
One thing gradually became clear to him, however. He was enjoying the rotund, hard piece of meat in his mouth. It seemed like a lifetime ago that he had had one. After all, blowing a man was a female function. He determined that he would live up to the tradition. He licked his tongue over the club-sized head that was wedged deep in his mouth and massaged the sensitive underside of the shaft with his lower lip. His cheeks hollowed as he sucked deeply and long.
Behind him there were rustlings and murmurs. He heard the distinct sound of a zipper. Warren Blake, with a tremor in his voice, said, "Like the doctor, boys intrigue me, too. Especially soft asses. The one before me seems particularly delicate. With your permission, Madame, I think I'll have a crack at it."
"By all means," the madame said expansively. "Put the cunt in her proper place."
Hudson felt Blake kneeling behind him. First a finger squirted into his asshole impertinently. It wandered through the dark passage and Blake exclaimed, "Marvelous! Still quite tight, but I do believe I can get it all in."
The first thrust of Blake's cock caught Hudson by surprise and he twitched at the sudden entry of the blunt cap that popped through his anus explosively. A swift six inches followed. If his mouth had not been extremely full, Hudson would have sighed. It felt wonderful--big and hard and quiveringly alive. Thinking of all the artificial penises he had suffered, he realized that there was no substitute for stiff, warm meat. Blake was stroking him rudely and deep, obviously trying to hurt him. It only made Hudson glow. He wished the faggot's cock were bigger.
He rocked between them, a double receptacle. Since the doctor did not move, it was up to Hudson to provide the motion with his head and mouth. He quickly adjusted to the rhythm of Blake's ass-fucking. He went down deeply on the doctor's cock when Blake rammed his in to the hilt; and he pulled back, sucking voraciously, in time with Blake's backstroke. He knew the two men were watching the other's action and that his timing would add a vicarious kick. Indeed, it seemed to spur them along. He was sure the doctor could endure a far longer act of fellatio under other circumstances. The same was true for Blake. But with his being skewered at both ends and the movement of the trio being as one, it was not long before he felt the twitching and tremors in--his ass and throat. They were getting ready to come--and the timing was exquisite!
The headmaster came first. But no sooner was Hudson's mouth full with a voluminous gob of sweet semen than was his ass inundated with an equally potent hot load. It was magnificent! He wallowed in it! He slurped with his mouth and squished with his ass. He felt so fulfilled and so much a part of each cock that he swore the two discharges of cum had met and mingled in the middle of him and created a hot ball of ecstasy.
"Go fix your makeup, you slob!" the madame spat at him when the trio had separated. "You can't even suck a cock without messing yourself up!"
When Hudson returned a few minutes later, he could see that the party wasn't over by a long shot. Everyone except the madame was naked. Evidently, she was going to play queen mother to the group. Doctor Slade and Blake were on the floor trying to recharge their batteries. Their mouths were locked in a deep soul kiss, and they tugged and pulled in an effort to arouse each other's cocks. The madame stood behind Adele Hutton's chair and fondled the lesbian's tits. Elaine Duke sat on the sofa, holding her legs up with her hands behind her knees. The butterfly asshole was pushed out to the fore.
"Guess what I've got for you, Brenda baby?" Miss Duke said huskily. "That's right. Your favorite asshole. It's been a long time, hasn't it? That's a good girl. Come on right in."
Drawn like a magnet as he crossed the room, Hudson went directly to Miss Duke and literally dove into her ass. His tongue was licking at the crinkled button at the same moment his knees hit the floor. Oh, yes, yes! It was good to be back. He forced his tongue into the waiting anal opening and churned it like a meaty paddle. While he was licking and groveling furiously, Miss Duke squeezed forward and unhooked his half bra. His tits fell loose and free a second later. Fingers were on them, pulling and squeezing delightfully. His emotions were swamped with pleasure. If only someone would shove something, anything, up his ass!
Then, as if his mind had been read, Dr. Slade was behind him. The headmaster's abnormally thick prick battered at the asshole and rammed its way in. The insertion of the giant circumcision caused Hudson to swoon. A moment later there was another weight added to the crush behind him. Blake was now buggering the doctor, who was ass-fucking him, while he in turn ass-licked Miss Duke. All things considered, he thought bitchily, he had the better of it.
Miss Duke reached a tremendous anal orgasm, but Dr. Slade's huge plundering of his ass was just beginning to gain steam. To facilitate matters, Miss Hutton switched places with Miss Duke and offered up her cunt to Hudson's mouth.
With all the fervor and passion that he had lavished on cocks and assholes, he burrowed into the hair-fringed, pink gash. It was soaking wet with warm juices, and he licked at them like a man dying of dehydration. She, too, did marvelous things with her hands on his tits. He had everything working for him now. His ass was filled to its ultimate capacity, his tits were gnawing with excitement, and his mouth and tongue were cunt surrounded and cunt anointed.
The entire faculty had built up to a frenzy of sexual participation. Though they were homosexuals and lesbians of various deviations, they went on a binge of sexual cross-patterns. Blake fucked Miss Duke. Miss Hutton sucked off Dr. Slade. Miss Duke licked Miss Hutton's ass. Each of them did nearly everything to one another. And always participating, either orally or anally or both, was Hudson. The madame, through it all, remained aloof. The extent of her participation was a bit of manual titillation here and there to keep things going. The mark of a perfect hostess at an orgy.
At last they all slumped, spent and exhausted, Hudson included. "Spent" was relative in his case. He had reached pinnacles of excitement that had caused violent shudders and convulsions within him. His reactions could only be compared to a female orgasm. Not once in the heat of the entire evening had Hudson's cock so much as flickered toward an erection. True, his balls ached tremendously, but it had no effect on his ability to raise a hard-on. It would not be fair to say, however, that it did not bother him. In truth, there were a few times in the course of the orgy when he'd been faced with sexual situations that he could have improved upon, or contributed to, had his cock been ready. He could not see where it would have been so bad. He knew the madame was right in convincing him he had always thought with his cock and that it had always caused trouble for him. He didn't regret what she had done for him. Still, it seemed a shame to have the thing and not be able to use it at all. The orgy was proof that there were certain situations in which he wouldn't necessarily have to compromise his new femininity--after all, everyone else had compromised their perverted sexual instincts. Just as he was thinking that, his wistfulness received a sudden shock.
The faculty was having a last drink and putting on parts of their clothing. The madame rapped for attention. "Before you all go, I want you to see something and hear something, too. I'm sure you all enjoyed Brenda tonight." There was immediate acclaim. "Then, what I wanted you to hear," she went on, "is that even though Brenda will now be teaching in this school as a female, she will not have the equal status and the autonomy that all of you enjoy in the pursuit of your pleasures. Except for the time she needs for classes and schoolwork, she will remain as my personal handmaiden. That, however, doesn't mean I'm going to be using her all the time. I want you all to feel free to take her anytime I don't specifically need her and use her for whatever sexual or domestic purposes you wish."
The madame paused to let that sink in. Quickly she went to the kitchenette and returned with a wet rag. "Now, as to what I want to show you. I want you to see exactly what Brenda is, no more, no less." With a sudden move, the madame pulled off Hudson's wig. Then she roughly shoved the wet rag into his face and scrubbed off his makeup. Next she pulled off the maid's apron and demanded that he strip out of the rest of his feminine attire immediately. Bewildered, he obeyed. When he stood back up after discarding the last nylon, the madame pointed at him with a vicious sneer and said, "There! It's not a man or a woman. It's a hermaphrodite! Purposely created, I admit, but an 'it' nevertheless. A creature with a cock that won't work and tits that do. I want you to see this and understand it so that none of you will begin to think of Brenda as being in any way real. Use her, by all means, grossly or otherwise. But just remember what you've actually got." She snapped a stinging forefinger into Hudson's tit, ordering, "Get out of my sight while I say good night to my guests!"
In the bedroom, shorn of his plumage, Hudson started to cry. The last indecency was one he had never expected and it shattered him to his soul. She had changed him from a man to a woman--well, almost a woman--and if he had been helpless under her austere spell, at least he had been happy. Now she had crushed even that. He was to be a freak, neither man nor woman. He was to be an object of ridicule and insensitive sexual misuse, not just by the madame but by everyone. Through his tears, a reflection in the mirror came back blurred. He couldn't see himself as anything but an out-of-focus animal. The harder he stared at the mirror, the more contorted the image became.
Freak! Freak! Freak! He hissed audibly.
No, it couldn't end like this! He grabbed his tits and wrung them savagely! What good were they? Only something else to be used as an object of torment. He would never find the pleasure in them than he had been envisioning all these weeks that they had been budding. Now that they had bloomed, they were to be trampled upon. He pulled his hands away from the fleshy protuberances in disgust. Then he grabbed his limp, shriveled cock. Once, once long ago, it had been a source of power and pleasure to him. Then she took it away from him. He hadn't minded so long as there were other pleasures, however bizarre. Now she was destroying those. His unbridled and hypnotic passion for the madame herself was why he had endured what she had done to him. Now she was casting him adrift. He was to be anybody's dirty, casual sex toy. Nothing. Nothing left! He screamed in silent anguish.
His fists closed around the lifeless flesh of his cock. He jerked it frantically. Grow, you fucking cock! Grow, goddamnit! Get hard! But it did not. The longer and harder he jerked it and flailed it, the more it shriveled in his palm.
He fell against the mirror, panting. Now he could see himself. Everything was obscene. The tits were obscene. And the cock was obscene. But there was a time, he thought gropingly, there was a time when the cock was not obscene. Sudden strange visions and a piercing ache exploded in his brain. Like a divine revelation, he knew what to do!
A silly, insane grin spread on his face. He would fuck the madame!
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The madame entered the bedroom and only glanced at him as he leaned against a bedpost.
"Draw me a bath," she snapped. "That was what they call a rather heated performance out there." She noticed for the first time the weird gleam in his eye and the smirk. "Get that shit-eating look off your face! You look like you balled your brains out."
"I'm going to fuck you," he giggled.
She blinked at him. She didn't believe she had heard it. Then her eyes narrowed and she demanded, "What did you say to me, cunt?"
"I'm going to fuck you."
"You crazy cunt! You better get your head straight damn quick or I'll whip your tits 'til they're under your armpits!" To prove her point, she stepped up to him and swung the flat of her hand in a cruel, chastising swipe.
To her utter disbelief, he caught her wrist and sent it back viciously.
"You're mad!" she screamed, and struggled to get free. She tried to club him with her loose hand. That was when Hudson swung with his fist and caught her with a powerful right on the jaw. He had not been feminized for such a long period that his fighting instincts were too deeply buried. The madame slumped to her knees, then toppled sideways on the floor, unconscious.
When she awoke, she found herself strapped to the bed. Her hands were secured to a peg above her head and her legs were spread with an ankle lashed to each bedpost. Hudson stood beside her with an evil grin.
"You're insane! You'll pay for this! I'll. . . I'll..."
He had been holding a whip behind his back. Instantly, he struck a burning blow across her tits. "I've heard enough of your threats. You say another word and I'll whip you within an inch of your life. I'm going to fuck you. After that, you can tell me how good it was."
He crawled onto the bed between her legs. He stared at her magnificent cunt. He continued to jerk his soft cock. The cunt had been a symbol to him ever since he had first seen it. It had been his fervent hope to one day be allowed to kiss it and lick it. But she had never even allowed that. She had only flaunted it and teased him with it. He knew, though, that when his cock touched the hairless, inviolate cleft, his masculinity would be restored.
He reached out with an insinuating finger and slid it along the fat, vaginal lips. Her breath came fast and heavy. Fear? He wondered. Was it possible that no man had ever . .. ?
With a newborn perverse excitement, he pushed a finger forcibly between the cuntlips and shoved. God, it was abnormally tight and dry. He pushed again, but his finger would only go in a little over an inch. Frantically, he used two fingers!
There was no cunt! He poked and probed and didn't believe! He leaned over and pried the fat lips apart and peered inside. He did not believe it, but he was seeing it! Her entire cunt was no more than two inches deep at any point. He shook his head and looked again. There was a uterus opening but no clitoris!
Then he knew!
He jumped on her stomach and grabbed the monumental tits. They were indeed as firm as they had always appeared to him. Too firm! And because they were too firm, it explained why they were too perfect. They were pumped full of silicone!
Her eyes oozed hate. The twist of her mouth was ugly. "Now you know! Yes, I was a man once, too. Like you were. But I was really a woman . . . felt like a woman . .. had the emotions of a woman! And I had a cock I hated. Like I hate all cocks. Then I heard about the operations they were doing for people like me. I went to Europe, and they promised me that they would give me a real cunt. And they lied! It wasn't a real cunt!" She twisted her head away.
Hudson sat back between her legs, looking at what he had thought was the epitome of voluptuous beauty. Why, she was more of a freak than he was! He didn't know whether to feel sorry for himself or to be enraged, whether to cry or to laugh. He looked down at his cock. It was still wilted. He knew one thing for certain, though.. It. would never grow again at Mt. Arcadia.
Tired, but with all deliberateness, he went in the madame's bathroom and took a long, luxurious bubble bath. When he emerged, she was staring at him silently. He ignored her and went to the makeup table and proceeded to paint himself a lovely face. He donned his wig, pulled open her wardrobe, found the clothing she had been planning to present to him. It was quite feminine and very tasteful. Over his lingerie, he donned a tweed ensemble with contrasting sweater.
Then he found one of her suitcases and packed the remainder of the clothes, including some of hers since they were both six feet tall. He didn't bother with anything exotic or bizarre. He snapped the suitcase shut.
"I'm leaving right now. Where are the keys to the station wagon?"
"There's an extra set in the desk in the parlor," she said without any apparent emotion. "There's some cash there, too. Take that. It's not as much as the school owes you, but it's something. Wh-where are you going?"
"I don't know," he said honestly. "Someplace isolated in a crowd. I'll have to pass as a female for a time. It'll take a while to get the female hormones out of my system and my body back to a semblance of what it once was. You see, I've discovered that I want to shave again. I want hair on my balls. When I get all of that back, then I'll work on functioning like a man again. You see, Britt, I'm going to go to a psychiatrist and I'm going to tell him exactly what happened here at Mt. Arcadia. I'm going to tell him what I was and what I became. Not long ago, I thought I was the greatest freak of all. That's probably valid. But I was also a freak when I came here.
"Somehow and in some way, I'm going to get rid of all that. I can say one thing honestly enough. If I've been sexually fucked up, at least I haven't really hurt anybody or shattered anybody's mind and guts. That's a hell of a lot more than I can say about you and Mt. Arcadia.
"Because you see, Britt," he purposely used her first name, "because you see when I leave here... I don't know whether it will be tomorrow or a week from today . .. I'm going to blow the whistle on this place. You have no right to exist! I have no quarrel with perverts finding other perverts... or freaks like you finding someway to make it in life. But you are preying upon innocent children. These kids need psychological help, not a whip or a dildo! I won't allow you to exist!"
"Don't leave me like this," she whined. "Untie me. I won't do anything to try and stop you."
"No," he said, picking up the suitcase and moving toward the door. "Someone will find you tomorrow. Maybe seeing you like that will open their eyes, too. You know, there's really no telling how many people would truly like to leave you just the way you are. I hope they do. I rather hope that someone would have the guts to whip the crap out of you before they let you off that bed. I would do it myself now except that I'd feel like I was whipping a sick image of myself. You see, freak, I don't even hate you."
He turned out the bedroom lights before he slammed the door. If nothing else, she wouldn't be able to look into a mirror during the night and rationalize that she was a real woman.
