Candide is a book that has been read in many languages throughout the world for well over a century. It was written by the French philosopher and literary genius Voltaire who, it is said, locked himself in a room for three days to write the book in its entirety. The tale follows the far flung adventures of a simple, naive lad named Candide, who is cast out of his quarters and his job for the sin of allowing the beautiful and experienced daughter of his employer to seduce him. He travels far and wide, in and out of the company of his old teacher, Dr. Pangloss, the beautiful seductress, and a host of minor characters. In his travels he bears witness to women joyfully coupling with apes, Popes who spread venereal disease, pirates who turn women's buttocks into flank steaks, and all manner of violence from earthquakes to shipwrecks, from murder to robbery, from kidnapping to mayhem. As we have implied from the worldwide acceptance of Candide, it is a great book, well-paced and well-written, action-packed as any half hour television show of today's times. Filled with violence and sex as it is, Candide is in the final analysis a humorous book which subtly shows that man, at his best, is happiest at home, tending his garden, innocently but firmly believing that he lives in the best of all possible worlds.
These are simple beliefs, ones which can be stated in just a few lines of prose. Those few lines would be read and forgotten, but Voltaire's Candide lives on through the ages to make its point upon countless millions of people.
Crime and Punishment is a book that is much the same. Dostayevsky stated the entire premise of the book in the three words of its title, and yet there is so very much more to the hundreds of pages of prose to more subtly make his point, to examine the true motives behind a criminal act, the real standards of its consequences.
These are works of fiction, meant to entertain as well as to enlighten. Today we read a great deal in psychology books about the reward and punishment system as used in learning institutes, penal institutes, and in everyday life. We read a great deal about it, that is, if we are psychology book fans. Most of us are not. The majority of the reading we do is for pleasure, and any small lesson we might learn from the works of fiction we peruse is some small bonus, not to be refused, nor to be forgotten, either.
This book, Teacher's Spanking Lesson, while not literarily comparable with the genius works of Voltaire or Dostayevsky, is much the same as those books, for it is an entertaining approach to the foibles and fantasies, the pleasures and pains of reward and punishment. Set in a contemporary time, and within a flawed contemporary place, its characters are equally flawed, even as you and I. Those in charge of meting out the rewards and punishments are handicapped by typical twentieth century emotional problems, and those others who are recipients of the pleasures and the deprivations that some psychologists recommend as mass therapy are indeed so strong in this story that they can accept or reject their just desserts at will. The jailors are the prisoners and the prisoners the jailors, with an intermingling of the two, compounded by those nasty little emotional problems we mentioned, that makes the entire situation appear to be totally hopeless for all involved.
Total hopelessness, violence, sex, and a doll-up of humor thrown in--what could make for a better evening's entertainment?
-The Publisher
CHAPTER ONE
"She's just not going to make it here," said Martha Wilkes, the cook at The Pines Experimental School for Boys. "I've seen her, and she's just not the type to make it with a bunch of sexy little rowdies like you two."
Martha was in her large, modern kitchen, where she prepared all the food for the twenty students inmates of school for junior high school recalcitrants, and her audience consisted of Rusty and Jimmy, the two boys who had drawn the very pleasant duty of assisting her on that day. They were both fifteen years old, the average age for boys who'd been sent to The Pines by the authorities. Martha was thirty-eight years old, a woman of medium height, with wildly curly brown hair, a good-natured smile when she chose to wear it, and a figure so bounteous that it came close to being downright fat. She had massive haunches and breasts, but her waist was relatively narrow and her legs were good. They were strong legs, just as her arms were strong, and she liked nothing better than to get those strong arms and legs around the body of a male, be he eight years old or eighty, just as long as he was old enough to have life in his prick.
She was dressed in a starched green cotton uniform with yellow collar and cuffs on its short sleeves, which was marked with perspiration stains from her efforts over the big pot of stew she was brewing. The uniform dress buttoned down the front, and the top two buttons were open, revealing a big expanse of creamy white upper bosom, slightly mottled with pink, and four inches of the deep cleft between her truly immense breasts. Rusty's and Jim's attentions centered more on this cleavage than it did on the menial tasks she'd assigned them.
She went on as she spiced the stew, saying, "No baby-faced blonde like that one is going to make it here. No, sir. She tries to look like a China doll with those big blue eyes and those rosebud lips, and you can tell she's just not tough enough to make it with a bunch of kids the likes of you. Only reason Mr. Sloane hired her was because of her looks. He'll be sorry for that. She's going to get you boys all horny, and then your principal won't know how to handle you--but I will. Get me a cigarette, Rusty. My hands are all wet. They're right in my pocket. Go on."
"Sure, Martha!" said the shorter of the two boys, the one with the carrot colored hair.
Jim, half-peeled potato in hand, came around to grin and watch while little Rusty slipped his hand inside the pocket on Martha's tight skirt and groped around for the package of cigarettes.
Martha grinned at the red-haired boy, her eyes on a level with his, and said, "What're you trying to do, Rusty? Tickle me half to death?"
"I'm just trying to find the matches," he said with an impish grin. "I'm sure sorry if it tickles you."
"Damn right it tickles me. I didn't wear no panties tonight. No bra, either. And I can really feel your little fingers squirming around down there, you devil."
Rusty continued to tickle and delve inside the pocket that was directly over the cook's left thigh. Jim came up from the other side, grinning very broadly, and said, "Is there anything I can do for you, Martha?"
"It's gettin' awful hot in here. Whew! Yeah, you could open up a couple more buttons on my dress and wipe some of the sweat off my big old boobs."
"Oh, boy!" Jim said, and grinned exultantly at Rusty as he quickly popped open the plump cook's dress to her waist.
She had lovely big breasts so firm that they pushed right out through the confines of her opened uniform right away. They were massive, bulbous breasts, as fat and round as they could be, with heavily globular undersides, enormous brownish-pink nipples, just getting erect, and upper slopes that bulged creamy and smooth. Jim's eager hands played over them while Martha stirred the stew. Her breasts were so big that they couldn't point straight ahead, but angled outward to her sides in a wall-eyed fashion. Jim hefted their considerable weight and probed their smooth softness and pulled at their generous nipples to his heart's content while Martha smiled her encouragement. On her other side, Rusty continued to play about her thighs with his busy fingers inside her pocket, while with his other hand he explored the vast bulging smoothness of her expansive bottom. Each of the boys in his excitement was pressing his hard little pecker, confined within his school uniform, against one of Martha Wilkes big thighs. She felt very good, very desirable, and she was aglow with the knowledge that it wouldn't be long until she got some nice, good sexual satisfaction from these two virile young boys, and plenty of it.
"You got to be tough to make it at The Pines, and this Carolyn whatsername just isn't that kind of a woman. Did I say woman ? She's only a girl, even if she is twenty-six, and she might have a degree from some college, but she doesn't look smart enough to wipe her own ass."
"Is she little?" Rusty asked. "Is she shorter than I am?"
"Nobody's shorter than you are. She's sort of tall, as a matter of fact. You'd just about come up to her titties, and she's got nice ones, but she probably wears cheaters. Mmmm-m-m-m. That's starting to feel good. Why don't you get your heads together, you two, and get yourself a little cream. That's it, you greedy little pigs. Milk me, milk me."
She stopped stirring the stew, looked down and smiled at the brown head and the red head hovering in front of her bulging breasts. Each of these well-trained kitchen helpers was sucking noisily on one of her nipples, and the sensations of deep pleasure rose in her mature body. She indulged herself further by setting aside her stirring spoon and reaching down to squeeze and fondle the two hard peckers at each of her flanks.
Martha Wilkes was quite adept at playing with the penises of young boys. She knew just how hard and how long to fondle their organs, knew exactly how much to excite them, and could drive them to distraction with her plump little hands and leave them just short of creaming in their jeans. She played no favorites among the score of boys at the state-run school. She had played with each and every one of their hard little peckers at one time or another and she knew the idiosyncrasies of each of them. These two boys, Rusty and Jim, were both possessed of very nice-sized peckers for their age, and it was with some difficulty that Martha prolonged this delicious playtime and refrained from getting it on all the way with them immediately.
"Suck those old titties, you greedy little mutts," she said, pulling peckers and getting wonderfully dizzy with the hot feelings rising through her plump body. "Get me all hot and bothered, you know how much I love it. Little devils, you might as well go ahead and unbutton my dress all the way, 'cause I'm just getting awful hot."
Two hands fumbled together to pop open the remaining buttons of Martha's dress as she stood before the stove with clouds of steam rising from the fragrant concoction. Her slightly protuberant belly was bared by the two sucking, nursing boys, and when her dress was opened to her loins, she shrugged and wriggled her shoulders and shucked off the uniform to stand naked before them.
Her pussy was shaven completely bare. It bulged very prominently under the softer bulge of her belly. It was a big, fat pussy, with very plump bulges at each side of the deep, long slit that disappeared down under her pubic curve. The round, full nubility of her thighs pressed those two big bulges inward, making the slit even deeper as she stood there with her two little helpers happily sucking her breasts and playing around her crotch and buttocks with their hands. They knew her too, and knew just where she liked to be touched.
She had a big bottom, with buttocks separated by the crack that made the size of her pussy crack seem dainty in comparison. She liked to be touched there.
"Let's get those peckers out," she said, pulling at the tabs of their zippers. "Jesus, you got me so hot I don't know what I'm doin'. Tongue me up, brats. Lick me and suck me good while I get those peckers out."
With eager obedience, Rusty and Jim licked all over those great big tits of hers. They were panting, wild-eyed in their excitement, hands trembling on her big, lush body while she leisurely opened their pants. She pulled down the zipper tabs, then simultaneously opened both their belts and let their jeans fall to the floor around their ankles. "Nice and hard for your favorite girl friend," she said. Now, with a naked prick in each hand, and able to rub their bare, oozing wet heads against the naked flesh of her yielding thighs, she was feeling better than ever.
"I'll tell you, I can hardly wait to get those two peckers in me," she said. "Trouble is, I just don't know which of you to take on first. I guess it'll be whoever's nicest to me," she said, and reluctantly released her hold on their pricks to put her arms about their shoulders and hug their heads and mouths closer to her throbbing, pulsing tits.
She had them half mad with excitement already, but that wasn't enough for her. She hummed a little song and jiggled and twisted her body, bouncing her big, bare tits as they licked and sucked them, quivering her ass and loins for their hotly groping hands. She guided their hot, hungry mouths to her shaven armpits, then lifted her arms above her head and closed her eyes and grinned as they Frenched her there in that sensitive area, just as she'd taught them.
She looked down at them, as they vied to be best at kissing and licking her beautiful tits and her smoothly shaven armpits. "That new teacher might be young and good-looking, but you sure as hell won't have this kind of fun with her unless you make her do it. She's one of those tight-assed college girls who doesn't know a thing about pleasuring a boy, let alone a couple of young men like you. She'll let you look at her all you want, but you can't touch, and that's okay with me. You get yourselves all hot and bothered looking at that dumb, doll-faced blonde, and then you come to momma for your fun.
"Oooooooo. You're gettin' to me. Bite 'em a little and make them stand right up and beg for more. Make me feel . . . Ouch! Rusty, you little bastard, not so hard! Just for that, Jimmy gets to do me first. Go on, Jimbo, go on and do me real good, real good. Yes, yes, yes-s-s-s-s-s."
Panting very hard, the well-trained boy began kissing lower on Martha's swaying body. Soon he was down on his knees beside her, covering her big haunch with kisses, pawing her curvaceous big bottom with one hand and fingering within the deep slit of her pussy with the other. She was already terrifically wet, and his fingers slipped and slid with ease over the little button of her clitoris, hidden deep within the steamy crack of her cunt. The crack of her ass was moist with her perspiration, and Jim used both hands to feel around both her holes as he continued to madly kiss her, in the groove of her loin, exuberant because he'd been chosen to be the first to take his pleasure with her on that day. Martha ruffled his hair and said, "Come on, honey. Love me up real nice. Show Martha how much you love her, how sexy she is, and what a good little lover she's made out of you."
She winked at Rusty, still grinding his hot prick against her thighs, and said, "Get on down there and kiss my pussy like a good boy. It's hot as melted butter and twice as sweet. Ahhh. Ahhh-h-h-h. Oh, baby, you really know how to lick off a woman." She awkwardly parted her legs and at the same time drew Rusty into a deep, open-mouthed kiss.
"Between the two of you, you're going to make me cum all over the place," she said against Rusty's eager mouth. "Jesus Christ, I just can't hardly wait for it any more," said the big, heavily panting woman, and holding Jim's head where it was with a handful of his hair, she backed up until her big bare bottom was against the maple meat-chopping block.
"Help me up here, boys," she said, and in a moment her ass was on the flat wooden surface and she could comfortably lie down.
Her legs were widely separated, one of them dangling toward the floor, and the other crooked up with her ankle hooked over the edge of the block. Still Jim was kissing her big, open, wet cunt, and she reveled in the knowledge that he'd go right on with it until she'd given him leave to stop.
"Okay, lover, sock it to me now, and Rusty, you get up here and give me something to chew on."
Face smeared with her aromatic juices, panting as if he'd just run forty laps, Jim got quickly to his feet, took his hard, stiff prick in hand and guided it right home, right up within that deep crack of her cunt and into the heat of her waiting, throbbing hole. Little Rusty was almost equally quick in jumping up on the countertop, getting down on his knees on it, and presenting his hard prick just above her smiling, sweating face. As Jim began to vigorously fuck her, Martha languidly licked her lips, pursed them, and blew her warm breath against Rusty's prick. It jerked and bounced at the contact of this warm breeze while the boy knelt there, biting his lips and clutching his thighs in his excitement.
BAM! Right away, Jimmy was cumming in her twat. It came along so fast that she almost wasn't ready for it, but then she quickly clamped down with the well-used muscles of her cunt in a rhythmic fashion which milked and sucked every last bit of loving goodness from the boy's eagerly pounding pecker. She felt very loved, very good, but she'd be feeling better still as things wore on.
"Your turn, honey," she said. "See if you can do me as nice as Jimmy did, Rusty."
The two boys quickly changed positions while Martha lay there stretching luxuriously. A moment after she'd given the command, Rusty was down on his knees on the floor, avidly licking her big twat, while Jim was up on his knees on the chopping block, his prick only half hard as she played with it with her hand and kissed it with her cushiony big lips.
"Lick me good, 'cause I'm awful hot. Lick me good and then you can fuck me good."
She giggled and said, "I wish that David Sloane could see me now. He'd probably knock you two boys on your keesters and jump me himself. He can't get enough of me. Wants to fuck and suck me all the time, fuck and suck, fuck and suck. Rusty, give it to me, just like David does, just like your snooty principal does."
She began lustily sucking on Jim's prick, while Rusty got to his feet to get his turn at her waiting, pulsing, grabbing twat. She felt glorious, all warm and buttery inside, just as if David Sloane really was fucking her. Drunk on sexual stimulation, she could almost see his handsome face before her and she forgot all about her former concern over his hiring a younger and admittedly more beautiful woman to work at the school. Though the boy on the chopping block with her was moaning at the hard sucking she was giving his sensitive cock, still she sucked on it, knowing in her heart it didn't taste as good and manly as David Sloane's, but still pretending it was his.
She felt it pulse and she took Jim's freshly hardened prick from her mouth, at the same time wrapping her strong legs around little Rusty's waist. "CUM! MAKE ME CUM!" she cried, as the prick before her started to spout, as down below Rusty filled her twat with his juice, and as she reached down and got her finger on the quick of her clit to masturbate herself.
She lay back, sighing. "Wonderful, just wonderful loving. No woman'll ever make you feel as good as I do, I don't care how good-lookin' she is. I'll be the best for you all your lives. Oh! Oh! Oh, I love you both, I love all of you brats. You make me feel so good," she said, as she licked up the cum from her lips and hugged one boy with her arms and the other with her legs, blissful, content, beautiful, the Queen of The Pines.
CHAPTER TWO
Carolyn Holm stifled a groan as she woke in her hard, cold, narrow bed, ready for her first day's work as a teacher at The Pines. There was an extra blanket in the closet of the little cabin she'd been issued, but she hadn't used it during the night; her new principal, Mr. Sloane, had offered to obtain a softer, wider bed for her, but she'd refused it; she wanted no favors, and she welcomed the spartan life she'd be living in this school which had been converted from a forestry prison camp. She had sinned and suffered for it, and she knew she had to suffer more before she could forgive herself for what she'd done at her last job.
She threw back the single cover and rose from the bed, clad from neck to toe in a shapeless flannel nightgown, unadorned by even a bit of lace on its high neck or its long sleeves. Her long blonde hair fell in soft curls well down past her shoulders, her smooth face was expressionless as she threw open the window and breathed in the chilly, pine-scented air.
Her teeth were chattering and her nipples were up hard, chafing against the soft flannel, but still she stood there, practicing deep breathing while she counted to five hundred, then turned about and touched her toes fifty times in rapid succession.
Her very shapely fanny pushed back at the flannel as her firm, pointed breasts swung downward. Her fingers touched her slightly blue toes, then reached toward the rough-sawed planks that formed her ceiling, and the process was repeated, over and over, without a single grunt, with no change in her placidly contained expression.
She went into the bathroom, a fairly commodious place, since it formerly served four hardened camp workers, and she shucked off the flannel nightie and stepped into the stall shower without so much as giving herself a glance in the mirror over the sink.
Carolyn had to clamp her jaws firmly shut to still the chattering now, for the water she used was cold, one more penance on her road to self-forgiveness. The soap that glided over her tall, flawless body was scented, a luxury she decided she'd give up as soon as this bar was gone, a luxury that was a faint reminder of her past sins at Miss Trowbridge's Young Lady's School.
Her curly blonde-furred crotch was soaped thoroughly but quickly, as were her breasts, very full and round, almost out of proportion to her long, narrow waist, but well-balanced by a bottom that was almost embarrassingly rounded and back-thrusting. Gooseflesh was all over her creamy pale skin, not unlike a million tiny breasts, and quite as sensitive. Stepping out of the shower she made the toweling as brief and vigorous as possible and was done with it before even the faintest glow of warmth could creep in on her frigid flesh.
She dressed as primly as she could, wishing she'd brought along some plain cotton underwear instead of the frilly things that Iris had talked her into buying. On top of the ruffles and laces, she donned a blue dress, a shade paler than her eyes. She'd let the hem out till it came to just above her dimpled knees, and she'd added a heavy lace bodice that covered the upper swells of her too prominent breasts and extended up to the base of her pure, white throat.
Expressionless before the mirror, she brushed out her hair into long, soft waves, then bunched it and rolled it and pinned it in a tight bun on the back of her neck. Her makeup case was there, and for a moment she toyed with the notion of applying some eye shadow and liner. That might be appreciated by the poor, isolated boys who she was to teach, even though she'd vowed to use no makeup at all for the next year.
On this matter she compromised, and put on a thin film of pink lip gloss, just to cover the blue in her soft lips. With a coat bundling her up, she left the little cottage and headed for the mess hall, hoping she'd be the first to arrive.
The mess hall was bare, stark, and the only signs of life in it were the clouds of steam rising from behind the long utensil cabinet that separated the dining area from the serving area. As she went to get her food, she heard the sound of laughter, low and throaty, and it warmed her that people had good times at The Pines.
Rounding the cabinet, Carolyn saw the camp cook, whom she'd briefly met before, horse-playing with one of the students. It looked like something a bit more than horseplay, but it ended the moment she rounded the corner and she was ashamed of herself for even thinking that anything might occur between the plump, middle-aged cook and the rosy-cheeked boy who was helping her.
Carolyn tried to be pleasant to them both as she carried a tray past the steam tables, but the cook gave her an early morning unpleasant scowl along with her oatmeal and the boy gave her an even more unpleasant leer.
Seated across the room, she knew she'd encounter a lot of those leers, for boys of his age were just beginning to notice the female of the species, and though she might be their instructress she was still a female. She knew she would have to remain entirely businesslike with the boys, playing no favorites in class, and associating only with Mr. Sloane and Mrs. Wilkes, once she'd gained their friendship and once she'd made it perfectly clear to Mr. Sloane that there could never be the slightest romantic involvement between them.
Carolyn's contract called for her to teach four subjects each day. Mr. Sloane taught the same number of classes, so that each of them had half the students in their classrooms all the time. In addition, Mr. Sloane carried out the administrative duties in his office.
Carolyn's first class was mathematics, and she was nervous as meeting time approached. She sat at her little desk at the head of the class, head down and knees primly together, for the desk was nothing more than a table and her legs could be seen by everyone in the class.
The room was warming up by the time she heard the boys filing rather noisily into the classroom, and still she didn't look up. She wanted to establish an image of the cool, unflappable, all business teacher, and then perhaps warm to them a bit once she had them in firm control. She just went through the text book, underlining salient points, controlling her own nervousness while the typical giggling and whispering went on, plus the roughhousing and running about that boys engage in. She was patient.
She waited until the boys had quieted themselves before she raised her head, thinly smiling, and introduced herself.
They were indeed a rough-looking lot. All in the same faded blue denim garb, they had the look of convicts about them as they grinned at her, trying to look lecherous, and if it hadn't been for their apple cheeks and tousled hair she'd have felt real fear clutching at her instead of the wheedling finger of apprehension that tickled in her tummy.
"The lesson today starts on page forty-six," she said, rising to turn toward the blackboard. "We are going to study short-cut means of multiplication and . . . ."
Chalk in hand, just turning to the board, she froze, for there on the big black slate was a crude but recognizable drawing of her that was of a shockingly obscene nature. It was largely a stick figure, but the out-thrusting breasts and the smartly rounded bottom were there, plus the oval of her face, the very wide eyes and the schoolmarm bun on the back of her head. She was naked. Her nipples stood out like beckoning fingers, and her pubic mound, covered with bushy hair and split with a slit, protruded forward and dripped heavily with chalked droplets. There was an idiotic smile on her pictured face and all around her were stick figures of men, boys, each of them grinning like a fool and equipped with out-landishly big genital organs, all of which were in a rigid condition, all of which pointed straight at her, spitting more droplets of filthy sexual exudations.
Her cheeks blazed hotly as she faced her grinning students and her finger trembled as she pointed behind her at the board. "Who did that? Who would do such a terrible thing?!?"
All ten hands were raised at once, and Carolyn gasped at this show of blatant defiance and whirled to erase the crude, disgusting drawing. There was no eraser to be found. She skittered up and down in front of the classroom looking for it while the boys guffawed and catcalled, compounding her acute distress.
"I'd sure like to multiply with you, teacher!"
"Show us the short-cut to your pussy!"
"I got something in my pants you can erase that with!"
"Hey, big tits, let's fuck!"
"She wears cheaters!"
"I'll bet she don't!"
"I know somebody says she does, wise guy!"
"Hey, big tits, let's fuck!"
She whirled and faced them again, fighting back the tears, trembling with rage and humiliation, and still they catcalled and insulted her. Patience, patience, she thought, for this is a part of your penance. She counted her racing heartbeats, tried to ignore her burning cheeks and cringing belly, until at last they were silent--silent but smirking.
"Wh-whoever did that, whoever hid the eraser, I want him to come up here and get rid of that awful thing. Do it now and there'll be nothing more said about it, and we can go on to the learning process that's so impo . . . ."
"FUCK YOU!"
It came from the back of the class, but she couldn't see from where. She wanted to stamp her foot and rage, she wanted to tell the little baboons exactly what she thought of them, but instead she calmly repeated her offer of amnesty, adding, "I'm going to put my head down on my desk, and when I raise it that disgusting thing is going to be gone from the blackboard. Then we'll all start to learn together."
She went to her desk and placed her head in her arms, welcoming this respite from the very verge of tears. She'd never been so mortified in her life--except for that time with Iris, of course--and it seemed almost too great a penance for the sin she'd committed.
"Okay, teacher," a subdued voice said, and she was able to raise her face with a smile on it.
"Now we'll begin," she said, and began her lecture. The classroom tittering went on, the surreptitious whisperings continued. They were all doing it so there was no one she could pick on to put an end to it. Matter of fact, it grew, and as it did Carolyn had an ominous feeling of dread. She became afraid to look behind her at the blackboard and yet she would certainly have to soon, when she began demonstrating math problems. She said a silent prayer, wishing that the board was as pure and clean as snow, though not so white, and then she turned to face it, half rising from her chair.
"Eek!" she said, and fell back, for there on the board she stood, now with a stiff penis in her mouth, another poked into her vagina, another in her rear, and one in each hand, with all of them spouting their vile sexual goo.
She couldn't help herself. Up from her seat she shot, searching frantically for an eraser that couldn't be found, while the boys so wild with their vile suggestions that at last she had to run from the room lest she burst out crying and by that show of weakness never regain control of the recalcitrant boys at The Pines.
She composed herself in the hall, difficult as that was with the memory of a mass assault of penises in her mind, and she opened the door to Mr. Sloane's classroom a crack. He was lecturing history to a bunch of very quiet boys, and he nodded at her beckoning finger.
A minute later he met her in the hall, and now her composure was all but restored. "There was an obscene picture on the blackboard," she explained to the thirty-fivish school principal, "and none of the boys would admit to drawing it. I came to you for advice, Mr. Sloane."
"And what did the picture show, Miss Holm?" he asked, hand in the small of her back making her stiffen as he ushered her into his office.
"Something vile. The subject matter is unimportant, it's the disciplining of the culprit I'm after. How should I handle a matter like this? What is the policy at The Pines?"
"Corporal punishment," he said, and from the corner of his office he picked up a large wooden paddle, large enough for the wielder of it to use both hands on its handle, with a swatting surface that was drilled with a double row of half inch holes.
"You mean you beat those boys!" She was aghast.
He smiled and said, "We administer a paddling when it's necessary. Make them work in the laundry, make them do kitchen police work or yard work, nothing does as much good as a taste of the paddle," he said, laying its swatting surface in his big hand with a light smack.
"I couldn't do that," she protested.
He shrugged. "Then you probably can't hold a job here, Miss Holm, and I happen to know how badly you need a job."
She cast down her eyes, tremulously looked up at him through her long blonde lashes. "Those charges at Miss Trowbridge's school were false, sir."
He shrugged again, swatted his palm again. "They're on the record, at least the unofficial record, and it'd be difficult for you to find other employment if you were terminated here for failing to maintain discipline."
"But I just couldn't beat those boys!"
"Nothing difficult about it. Surely you can recall how it was done to you at home, and how effective it was."
"Oh, my mother never spanked me. My father did a few times before he left home, but I was very young. I hardly remember it," she said, her hand unconsciously moving to the rounded swell of her bottom.
"A little instruction is in order then. Turn around please."
"W-What?"
"I said, turn around, please, and lift your skirt."
"Mr. Sloane, you can't be serious!"
"Of course I'm serious. A paddling loses most of its efficacy when performed through cloth."
"I simply can't believe you're serious," she said, turning slowly in spite of herself.
"I assure you I am, and I remind you that we've got classes waiting, so please be quick about it. I don't like this any more than you do, but it has to be done, you've got to learn how to manipulate the paddle efficiently but without causing any real damage to the boy's posterior. Skirt up, please."
She stood with her side to him, looking for some sort of light to show in his eyes that this was all some joke, some rowdy initiation to the rough life at The Pines. The light was not there. His eyes were somber, serious as he stood impatiently fingering the paddle. She shook her head in disbelief, but her fingers were inching up the skirt of her dress, baring her quaking thighs.
"C-Can't you just tell me how to do it, Mr. Sloane?"
He shook his head firmly. "Some things have to be demonstrated."
The bottom ruffle of her panties was exposed, and her legs were flushed as hotly as her cheeks. "You could show me through my skirt, couldn't you ?"
He sighed and said, "Miss Holm, if you can't take orders from your superior, it's plain to see why you got into that trouble at your former place of employ. I'll try to write you a decent letter of recommendation, but . . ."
"No, no! It's all right!"' she said, hiking her skirt up to her waist, bending slightly at the waist, exposing that terrifically rounded contour of her bottom, very thinly covered with the yellow, ruffled panties that Iris had presented her with in happier, completely carefree times.
"Just bend over a little more," he said, putting pressure with his hand on her back to show her the way.
She hung there holding her skirt up around her hips, biting her plump lower lip to keep from weeping, while he gave her a little lecture about corporal punishment and assisted her by elevating her skirt a little higher, until it was bunched about the small of her back.
"Hmm," he said, as he slipped his fingers within the waistband of her panties, fingering the material and making Carolyn squint her eyes shut hard to hold back the tears. "Thin material, but with all these ruffles and things on the bottom," he said, smoothing his big, rough hand over the panties' frilly decorations, "it'd be best if we took them down, Miss Holm."
"B-B-But . . . ," she said, all but blubbering as he touched her there with his hand, as he looked at her exposed bottom, all upturned, and very exposed, for the bright yellow nylon between the rows of ruffles was so thin, so sheer that it was all but transparent. Iris had often admired her bottom in these same panties. She'd admired it herself in the mirror, skirt up like this, looking back over her shoulder and smiling at the smooth curve of her hip-line, at the nubile tapering of her thighs, and at the sweetly compressed split of her buttocks, clearly visible through the stretched yellow gossamer of her panties.
He rested a heavy hand on her derriere, drummed his fingers against thinly covered trembling flesh, and said, "I am not used to having my staff argue with me. Now, are you going to take down those very pretty but highly obstructive panties or shall I?"
She gulped and swallowed, unable to get her breath in her great consternation, unable to answer him, and with a cluck of disgust and a clatter of the paddle on his desk, he was directly behind her, tugging and pulling at the tautly stretched garment, pulling her panties down over her back-thrust bottom, baring her buttocks to a man's gaze for the first time in almost ten years.
He jerked them down halfway to her knees. He had to get on his knees to do this, for her doubled over posture made the fit of the snug panties even tighter. She could feel his breath on her cringing flesh, scalding it, and for a moment she had the wild hope that he'd sexually attack her, just so she could report him and have him fired. But no, he touched her cheeks with no more than his gaze and his hot breath as he pulled her panties right on down, exposing both of her rosily-flushed buttocks, putting on display the tightly clenched split between them, even baring the golden hair that crept up from her pubic area to her anal area and, hopefully, concealed the pink, throbbing bulge of her vulval tissues. He didn't lay a hand on her--not until he was at her side again, lecturing.
"Right here," he said, and drew a line with his finger across Carolyn's buttocks, making her jump and almost scream, "is the best area for the application of the paddle. Right here." He repeated it as if she hadn't felt the awful touch of his finger the first time. "The fatty part of the buttocks is the most sensitive and most receptive paddling surface."
"I see! Yes! I understand! Just do it!"
"Lower," he said, "down here under the curve of the gluteus maximus is good too, but there's a danger of injuring the achille's tendon in the back of the thigh."
"Eek! I don't think I can stand this!"
"Of course anywhere on the pupil's bottom is fine for taking the paddle, anywhere at all," he said, and his moving hand covered every square inch of his employee's feverishly hot buttocks while she swayed there squealing, close to fainting.
"Just do it! Just do it and get it over with!" she implored, and he stopped, hand resting comfortably on her blushing naked bottom, and he spoke to her: "This, you see, my dear Miss Holm, is all a part of the proper paddling technique. The paddling itself is nothing to those boys," he said, and at last he took his hand away, allowing her to breathe, but only for an instant, as there was a swooshing sound, followed by a tremendous SWAT!
"YOW! OH! OH, MY POOR BOTTOM!" she screamed, as it truly came on fire now, scalded by the perforated paddle, but lightly reassured by his patting hand.
"You see?" he said in triumph. "The distress is magnified a great deal by the proper prelude to the paddle, especially if that prelude is given by a member of the opposite sex, so you see, my dear Carolyn, you'll have a distinct advantage over me when it comes to disciplining our boys. Have you got it all now?"
"Wait-wait-wait!" she said, as hand was removed and swooshing sound came, terminated by another great SWAT!
"EEK! EEK!"
"Hush, please, Miss Holm. That didn't hurt nearly so much as the first one; though the element of surprise was there, the suspense was gone. Now get ready for this one. No suspense, no surprise, just one healthy . . . SWATH!"
The force of it staggered her forward shrieking. He caught her arm, laughing, and drew her erect. She was snuffling and sobbing but no tears had flowed as she stood there rubbing her fiery hot bottom, feeling the circles left by the paddle, while Mr. Sloane, principal and obviously expert disciplinarian, obligingly knelt and pulled up her panties, lecturing all the while: "You see? Nothing to it. You just go back there and give those boys hell, Carolyn. I'd do it myself but it's better for you to get the first time over with, and I've got to get back to my boys. They won't confess to drawing that picture. You go back, pick out the biggest, toughest boy in the class, have him bare his butt and stand there grabbing his ankles while you lecture them all on propriety, education, anything, and then lay a few good ones on his bare ass. I guarantee you won't have any more trouble with that little pack of hyenas. Is it sore?" he asked, looking up at her with his hand up under her skirt, smoothly rubbing her hot, aching bottom.
"N-No, sir. It feels just fine," she said through trembling lips, eyes misted with tears.
"I could rub some lotion on you there if it hurts even a tiny bit, Carolyn," he suggested with a warm smile, a friendly smile.
"I hardly feel it at all," she said, smarting very sharply, even where he wasn't touching her.
With a last pat on her butt he stood up, hands clasped before him, and said, "I hope you've gained from our little . . . talk, Carolyn."
"Oh, I have! Th-Thank you, sir."
"Don't mention it, dear," he said, and gave her a tiny, fatherly peck on her plump, rosy cheek, the one on her face, the one that was only smoldering and not completely on fire.
She demurely smiled a final thank you, took the paddle and left him, and he immediately went to his desk, took out his very long, very hard cock, and rapidly masturbated to an ejaculation, near frantic to get the job done before his abnormally usual state of flaccid limpness returned. He concentrated hard on Carolyn Holm, seeing her frightened eyes and quivering lips, her out-thrust trembling bosom, visualizing that saucy, absolutely gorgeous ass that he'd turned from blushing pink to glowing scarlet, that he'd felt and touched and had come close to kissing. By thinking these thoughts, seeing these visions, he was easily able to put the rapacious Martha Wilkes completely out of his mind and enjoying the first real orgasm he'd had since coming to The Pines.
CHAPTER THREE
Carolyn stalked back down the hall, paddle swinging widely by her side, buttocks feeling positively enormous. They'd always been too big in her opinion, but now they felt gigantic. Iris had always reassured her they were just the right size, just the right shape, but if Iris could feel how big her buttocks felt now, she'd be shocked. They hurt too, but it wasn't anything like the shocked pain she'd felt during her period of disciplinary instruction. It was a smarting pain, like a very severe case of sun burn, a pain she couldn't forget about, following along behind her and making her very much aware of that big, bulging area of her body that was so thinly protected by one layer of nylon, some yellow ruffles, and a thin, blue cotton skirt. She paused outside her classroom to tenderly feel of it, to reassure herself that it hadn't truly grown in magnitude, and her gently probing hands weren't all that reassuring, her carefully exploring hand seemed to be encountering a bottom that was indeed bigger, rounder, more attracting to the male animal whom she'd avoided ever since Spike Thompson, the true shame of her life.
The boys were whooping it up inside, and they slowed down only a little when she entered the room, ostentatiously swinging the big paddle. She faced them from the front of the classroom like a Marine Drill Instructor, crossing her legs, looking grim, leaning back against her desk before she thought and flinching visibly but very briefly when the edge of it bit into her punished bottom.
She gestured with the paddle over her shoulder. "Who did that?"
Again all the hands were raised, and now Carolyn's lips twisted into a smirk, and she said, "Okay, you all get a taste of this paddle.
Who'll be first?"
The hands stayed up, the grins stayed on their monkey faces, and after a moment's pause, she cleared her throat and said, "We have more important things to do than paddling. We have learning to attend to and I simply can't take the time to punish all of you for something only one of you did. Now, which will it be?" she asked, looking around the room for the biggest boy, finding him, being taken aback by his hulking shoulders, his thick chest, and most of all by the sulking, surly grin on his slightly bearded face. Her eyes roved on, fixed on a redheaded boy with a truly ape-like grin, a little imp with mischief written all over his face.
"You." She pointed with the paddle. "What's your name?"
"You can call me Rusty, teach," he said, and basked in the others' laughter.
"Very well, Rusty," she said, easing her bottom off the desk edge with well-concealed relief. "Get up here and take the punishment for the whole class."
He rose at once and walked cockily up the aisle, tossing his head and still grinning as whistles and catcalls followed him. Up on the elevated platform where her desk stood, he looked Carolyn straight in the eye as he began to unbuckle his jeans. He had to look up for this. She realized then just how small he was, just how young and vulnerable, and her heart went out to him, though of course she couldn't show that.
"It won't be necessary to drop your p-pants," she coldly said. "Just turn around and bend over, grab your asshole and ... I mean your ankles!" she said, but it was too late, they were all laughing at her again, even the little redhaired boy who was about to be paddled.
"I won't stand for this!" she shouted, grabbed him by the hair of his head, turned him and bent him over, and applied the paddle to the seat of his pants with all her strength.
She was furious, enraged, like a thing gone mad as she whacked him over and over, putting all her weight behind each of the heavy blows. She drove him up against her desk with the blows, followed after him swinging with all her might. Her hair came out of the bun to obscure her vision, swinging wildly about her, but still she kept pouring the punishment on. When she tried to sweep her hair back out of the way, the armpit of her dress ripped, and even that didn't deter her. She connected solidly with every blow, resoundingly, and it seemed to diminish the pain in her bottom, seemed to wash away her recent humiliation with each loud SWAT of the wonderfully effective paddle.
Punishment for the boy, therapy for her discipline for the entire class. They were silent now, or at least she thought they were, for it was hard to hear anything over the sound of the paddle's hangings and her own heavy pantings. She felt a seam opening on the side of her dress and still she swung on, knowing she had to make this a good paddling, knowing it wasn't hurting him much through his pants, despite his flinching and twistings. She started to tire and renewed herself by imagining the boy was Spike Thompson, and gained such strength that she soon had him crying out for mercy. A dozen more good, hard swats and she quit, dripping with perspiration, flushed with success, dismissed him to his desk and went to take her chair, trembling with sweet exhaustion.
It hurt to sit down, but she was too happily tired to care. Her bottom felt good in comparison with the boy's. She even reveled in the warmly glowing pain there, wriggling her hot softness against the hard wooden seat as she opened the text book at random and told them to read to themselves from the page. She was in a state of blissful contentment until she recalled the drawing still on the blackboard behind her, whereupon she wearily rose, maintaining a stiff back somehow, and went to wipe it away with her sleeve.
She made the penises blur and slowly vanish, along with the hideous caricature of herself. She didn't care that her fanny was switching and jiggling with her efforts, didn't mind that it was all swollen and more protuberant than ever as she worked, for she had to get rid of that shameful drawing, had to destroy all the dirty things that were attacking her. She scrubbed and scrubbed at the board, while behind her the class buzzed with whispers, but quietly, cautiously now, undoubtedly extending their sympathy to the boy who had suffered for all of them. She was sweating harder than ever when the drawing was at last unrecognizable to her, but still she could see herself being attacked by hard penises in her mind's eye as she took her seat, stern of countenance but soft and warm of body.. If it hadn't been for the presence of the class, she felt she could sleep for a week. As it was, she had a long day ahead of her--but she didn't yet know just how long it was to be ...
CHAPTER FOUR
History, English, social studies, the familiar subjects seemed to teach themselves that day as Carolyn worked to keep up her facade of stern authoritarian. Several times, especially after lunch in the mess hall, she saw little knots of boys talking and gazing sidelong in her direction, undoubtedly spreading the word that here was a teacher to be reckoned with, her soft good looks notwithstanding. The pain left her fanny, the soreness subsided, but the feeling of its being swollen remained and was hard to conceal as she walked about, doing her duty, being polite to Mr. Sloane, to Martha Wilkes, to the boys she'd come to teach, and from whom she'd already learned.
The day went by in a hazy dream. At three o'clock, when the final bell rang, she longed to go to her cabin and sleep, wake up for a warm shower, then sleep some more. Instead, discipline was there to be maintained, penance was there to be paid, and she went to her cabin just long enough to change her clothes. Then she set off on a brisk walk through the woods.
It was beautiful. City girl though she was, Carolyn knew she'd soon come to love the pines and the clear mountain air, the scolding blue-jays and the ominous-looking mushrooms that crowded up through the carpet of pine needles. The mushrooms reminded her of penises, however, and she avoided them as she walked, straying further and further from the camp, looking for the beauty in the forest and at all times being mindful about getting lost, starving to death, being attacked and eaten by a pack of wolves and wildcats.
She was more than a mile, by her reckoning, from camp when she first heard the voracious wild animals of the seemingly friendly forest.
She couldn't tell if they were wolves or cougars, but they were there, behind her, following, slavering at the jowls for her tender flesh. She walked faster, chewing on her knuckle, looking back over her shoulder and refusing to cry now, after having made it without a tear through the long, trying day. They were behind her, ready to pull her down and devour her the moment she stopped, and so she plunged on, tripping and falling, rising and going faster, craftily planning on leading them in a circle that would lead her back to the safety of the camp.
They were, however, getting closer. She couldn't see them beyond a flash of movement through the shrubbery, but she could hear them, ever closer, almost laughing like hyenas, though she knew very well no hyenas existed in North America. They were within yards of her, still unseen, but snapping twigs in their increasingly close pursuit, and she plunged on, skirt hiked up, knees lifting high, running out of breath but still going.
A cul-de-sac stopped her. She ran right into a pocket of boulders before she could stop, and when she turned to bravely face the hungry forest animals, ready to die but certain to fight to the death with true feminine bravery, she saw her pursuers clearly for the first time, and what she saw made her break into loud, long screams of terror.
There were four of them blocking the narrow entrance of her trap, four boys wearing sneakers and cloth masks and nothing else, nothing else at all but their skins, and each of them had his penis in his hand, stroking it while they surveyed her, making her plight all the more terrible. She stopped her screaming and started toward them, determined to break through their close ranks, only to scream and fall back, sprawling on the ground, as the closest two of them took a step toward her. Backward she scrabbled over the musky earth as they came closer, taunting her, terrorizing her: "Goddamn, she'd scared shitless."
"You can see right up her skirt."
"Man, look at those tits!"
"Let's jump her, men, let's fuck her good!"
"NO! NO!" she cried, gaining her feet, gathering her torn dress about her, only to be brought up short by a huge boulder at her back. Desperate now, she plunged ahead, with no way out but through them, and it was then that they caught her and caught her good.
One of them darted forward and tripped her and she went flat on her face in the pine needles, the wind knocked out of her. Before she could even move another said, "Give it to her like she gave it to Rusty!", and POW!, POW!, POW!, three terrific swats from the paddle made her move.
Screaming, she rolled away, heedless of the hand that caught her sleeve, the other that caught her skirt, and between them ripped the dress half off her. She had only a shred of it to cling to as she crouched panting on the ground, wild-eyed, trying to cover her ridiculously frilly bra and panties, trying to cover her almost total nudity.
"I know who you all are!" she said, panting. "I recognize you all, and if you don't stop this now I'll have you all expelled and sent to . . . sent to . . ."
Her lame threat was interrupted by their raucous laughter, and they advanced on her, all of them with the penises in their hands stiff and straight, pointing at her, glaring at her with their tiny eyes that sought her out as surely as if they could see.
"YA-HOO-O-O-O-O!" The closest one threw himself at her. She rolled away screaming but he landed on top of her, his naked flesh hot and clammy against hers, his bare penis branding her flank. She was bigger than the boy, probably stronger, but in her exhaustion and in her need to avoid all contact with his organ she was giving him the advantage, so she righted herself, gave up trying to hold the remnants of her dress up around her breasts, and began to pummel him with her fists, regardless of that thing pressing so hard and hot against her side.
Another of the boys got her by the wrist. She pulled with all her might, screaming hoarsely in her frustration. But he wrenched her onto her back on the pine needles.
The other two boys had hold of her legs before she knew it and then she was spread-eagled on the ground, still struggling but gaining no ground against the combined assault.
"Get her! Hold her down!"
"Rip that brassiere off! See if she cheats, like Martha said!"
"Either way, I got first dibs on sucking on them!"
"Let's fuck her, let's just fuck hell out of her!"
Her screams did Carolyn no good, and neither did her struggles. The pine needles bit under her back and legs, but they were far kinder than the eager hands that ripped and tugged at her bra till it came loose and her utterly gorgeous perfectly formed breasts, all chaste pink and white, fell free to further inflame the four lusty boys.
"Oh, Jeezus!"
"Just look at them!"
"Look at them, hell! Feel them. Taste them!"
There was a mouth at her nipple, sucking on it, biting it, driving Carolyn to a new height of madness. As two of the boys roughly toying with her poor, cringing, sensitive breasts, two more were calling for their turn.
A calm came over Carolyn and she went as limp as she could. She could survive this ordeal, perhaps even come out on top, if only she kept her head, didn't panic, didn't drive the boys to frenzy with her resistance, and resistance did little good anyway.
"Just hurry up and get it over with," she said. "You'll all pay, of this you can rest assured."
She lay there gathering her calm and her strength while the two mouths worked on her breasts. She divorced herself from those breasts, turned them away from her body and changed them into separate entities, little animals that had somehow attached themselves to her body for the time being. Let the boys kiss and lick the things, let them suck on her nipples. She hardly felt it at all, for she was scheming, resting, ready to counterattack and free herself, or at least to see these foul boys punished.
Their masks were made of sugar sacks in which eye holes and a large mouth hole had been cut. They were tied around their necks. Get one of them off, just one, and identify that boy, thus frightening them all away and securing her freedom, and later her revenge. She could do it. All it took was cunning, daring.
"Mmm," she murmured, and began to move again, but now her movements were smooth, silky, a sensuous sort of writhing, calculated to make it appear as if she was enjoying the two sucking mouths working at her breasts, even the two little hands that poked at her opened thighs and pulled the crotchband of her sodden panties aside. "Mmmmmm," she murmured, and let herself pretend that there was warmth in the mouths, love in the hands, pleasure to be found with four masked boys deep in the forest.
"Hey, she's starting to dig it," one of them said.
"Mmmm-m-m-m. More."
"Oh, man! Oh, man, she's a hot one after all!"
The boy on her left succumbed to Carolyn's feigned excitement. He released her arm to use both his hands as well as his mouth on her tormented nipple, and Carolyn smoothly slipped her hand down, fondled his head, then took a hold on the sack and pulled it up hard.
Her only satisfaction was that she choked him for a moment. She pulled and twisted for all she was worth, getting the mask turned about so the boy couldn't see, but she didn't get it off. As she screamed and struggled, the two boys at her crotch ripped off her panties, the delicate undies Iris had given her, shredding them from her body and leaving her naked save for her shoes and socks.
"Man, she's strong!" said one.
"We got her good now. Hold her down!"
"Let's change places, you guys. We want at her tits for a while."
"Okay. Who's got the razor? Jim, do you have that razor she gave us?"
"Kill me. Cut my throat," Carolyn murmured. But the boys didn't hear her, they were too busy scrambling around on top of her, pressing their sweat-reeking bodies against hers, touching her with their hard penises and testicles.
Each of her tormentors held her down with the weight of his torso and clutched an arm or a leg in a scissors lock between his legs. Carolyn's hands and feet were in constant contact with their genitals. She kept very quiet then, utterly loath to feel them stir against her as they went about their dirty work, two of them nursing like hungry baboons, the other two using some sort of vibrator down there between her legs, on that most vulnerable, weakest, softest part of her. She laid still, divorced her entire body from her brain, and thought of pleasant things, like waving fields of daisies, like clear Mediterranean waters, like flogging the four to death with hot barbed wire. She tried harder. She could feel an insidious sort of perverse pleasure spreading outward from her captive breasts. She thought about Spike Thompson, seducing her with the aid of cheap wine and an exciting dance, hurting her with his enormous penis, then abandoning her for some cheap slut when she'd confessed her tearful love for him in public.
That worked. She escaped from that feeling of dirty pleasure at her breasts and her cunt.
At last the boys stopped. At last she had some respite from that ordeal when the buzzing stopped and one of them said, "Yeah, that looks a lot better."
"Man, it's really pretty. Not like Ma . . . not like hers at all. Look, men, it's really a pretty pussy."
Lips left her breasts and the other two boys peered down between her shamefully spread legs, and Carolyn's curiosity was such that she struggled up in her grip, just high enough to see that she'd been shaved bald, clean as a baby's bottom, with her slit and the protuberance of her clit on very clear display.
"Oh, no," she moaned, and fell back, close to tears now, but absolutely refusing to let them come.
One of them touched her there and said, "What's that?"
"It's her clit, man! Don't you know nothing?"
"Never seen one like that before. It sticks right out."
"Big deal. You've only seen one before in your life."
"Yeah, it sticks right out, just like a little tongue. Yeah-h-h-h-h-h . . . ."
"NO, DON'T DO THAT!" Carolyn screamed as, unmistakably, she felt lips encircling her clit, a tongue softly lashing its helpless tenderness. "THAT'S NOT NICE! THAT'S A SIN! THAT'S AWFUL!!!" she screamed, all her aplomb gone now, bucking like a wild horse and screaming like a banshee.
"Better quit, Eddie, she's liable to hurt herself," said a wonderful voice, and Carolyn relaxed with a sigh as the mouth left her, as the tongue licked its last. She relaxed on the pine needles, feeling them soft and smooth now, and she didn't stir when fingers replaced the tongue that had almost seduced her.
"It's gettin' late. Almost time for dinner. Let's screw her now."
"Yeah, let's dip our wicks in her before she cools off."
"Man, she's only just begun."
"You go first, Rusty."
"You just bet I will."
Rusty, Rusty, she kept saying to herself, as a lithe, wiry body clambered atop hers, already pushing with its cock. She remembered the name of Rusty from somewhere, and she had to keep it in her mind. "Uh, uh, uh," he grunted, like a pig, as he poked and shoved with his little cock, trying to get it in her, not knowing that she'd survived a prick at least three times the size of this one, a real cock, not just a little wick.
He got it in her. Short as it was, Carolyn felt it go in, felt it rasp against her tender, shaven mound and push time and again against her clitoris, so dumb and defenseless that it couldn't even hide from this unwanted, persistent friction.
She rolled her head on the needles, trying to get away from the masked face hovering by her neck. She clutched at the earth, but only got handfuls of wicks and testicles as they held her down and the one on top of her fucked her, screwed her, made her want to laugh with his puny efforts.
"I've had more than that," she muttered.
"What? What she say?"
"More than that!" she said, lifting her head with the last of her strength. She fell back, enunciating clearly, "Lots more than that, lots more."
"Urrgh! Urrrggh! U-U-U-U-RRRGH!"
"That's it, Rusty, give it to her good, but she wants more, MORE!"
"CUM IN HER TWAT, RUSTY! GIVE HER MORE!"
"MORE!" she echoed defiantly, knowing he was ejaculating, but still defying them all, heaving with her body, trying to throw him off, trying to get his damnable pubic mound off her tender clitoris.
She succeeded. He rolled off her with a sigh and she sighed too and tried to reach down and scratch at her itching clitoris, only to be reminded by a handful of cock where she was.
Another boy was on top of her right away anyway, and he did the job she'd been wanting to do. With his penis moving in and out of her permanently damaged vagina, he was giving her clitoris the scratching of its life, even bringing forth a smile from her as she lay there murmuring, "More. More, I've had lots more than that."
"Man, she can't get enough of our pricks, men! Look it her move that big beautiful ass."
"Let's let her go. She'll give us a real ride."
"We're doin' fine," said the boy on top of her, riding her hard, panting hard, scratching her itch good and hard.
He grunted along toward his climax. Carolyn could distinctly feel it coming, and then at the very brink of it he pulled his prick right out of her, hoisted himself up in the push-up position, and looked down giggling. She looked too, saw his hard prick pointing at her flushed face, saw it jerk and throb and then vigorously spew out a gusher of semen that came up and hit her right in the chin.
"YAAHHHHH! GET AWAY! BABOONS! LET ME UP! RAPE RA-A-A-A-A-APE!!!" Her screams took them aback. For a moment they almost let her go, but then they were at her again, laughing and talking, sucking at her breasts, calling them her tits, poking another prick in her vagina, in her twat, in her cunt, fucking her and screwing her, not even giving her the satisfaction of properly scratching her burning clit as she tried frantically to wipe off the scalding goo from her chin, too furious for tears now, too mad to quit struggling, no matter what satisfaction it gave them.
"Teacher's really humping now!"
"Get her while she's hot."
"Who wants seconds?"
"I haven't finished firsts yet!"
"Pull out and shoot in her face, like I did."
"I'LL KILL YOU! I'LL KILL YOU ALL! MR. SLOANE, HELP! IRIS, WHERE ARE YOU? SPIKE, SAVE ME!!!"
"Uh! Oh, God, can't quit a pussy like this! Hotter than a friggin firecracker! Uh! UH! URRRRRGGGH!"
She thought they did it to her two more times, but she didn't cry, didn't shed a single tear. She was too weary and too determined.
She just lay there and took it, succeeding in transporting herself to another world, one of beauty and peace, one where she could sleep forever, one where her body was made of warm butter and her brain was made of cotton candy.
They had to help her to her feet. She rose as if her head was in the clouds, supported by the fiendish little imps who'd almost killed her but were now being relatively kind to her, except for their vile words.
"Man, once she got going, she really came!"
"I made her cum first."
"Like hell you did! It was me, with this!" said the one boy holding her arm, and thrust his flaccid prick against her thigh, where she brushed weakly at it, as if it were a June bug.
"We gotta be back. Martha'll really be pissed if we miss dinner."
"Think she can find her own way home?"
"Are you kidding? After all the time's she's cum, she can't find her ass with both hands."
One of them swatted her ass--hard--and it roused Carolyn from her torpor, made her glare at the little rapists for a moment before she slipped back into her drugged, stumbling walk through the forest, led on by four naked dwarfs, Sleeping Beauty up on her feet and walking, somehow.
They used the paddle to wake her up and keep her going, and that almost made Carolyn cry a few times, not from the pain of it, for she was beyond physical sensation, but from the complete lack of necessity for it. She was perfectly all right, just a little sleepy and in need of a stiff drink and some directions home, where she could sleep for forty-eight hours and then spend the next forty-eight in a hot tub. She was just fine, and she tried to tell them that, but they kept paddling and leading her along. Of course she was a little dazed, but that was understandable. She was so dazed, in fact, that she didn't even realize she'd been led all the way back to camp until she was thrust through a doorway and found herself to be the focal point of more than a dozen pairs of very wide eyes as she stood naked in the mess hall at dinner time.
CHAPTER FIVE
"EEEEK EEEEEEEEEKKK!!!" Carolyn yanked and tugged at the doorknob as hard as she could while the din rose to a caterwauling, clattering riot behind her. The door yielded but did not give, being held as it was by the four boys who'd thrown her so unsuspectingly in with this horde of screaming, shouting, table-overturning monkeys at her back.
She turned and dashed toward the serving area, one hand held futilely before her heavily bobbing breasts, the other before her bald-shaven loins, still screaming, piercing the air over the shouts of the lusting, sex-mad boys. Rounding the serving partition, she collided with the bulky form of the cook, went sprawling, caught sight of her pursuers, and went scrambling on behind the safety of another female's back, while the cook held off the horde by slinging slices of bread at them and shouting, "Back, you little bastards! Get back and eat your fucking dinners!"
Carolyn dragged herself to her feet by the cook's apron, sobbing profusely but somehow unable to shed any tears, perhaps because her waterworks had been turned off for too long, perhaps because of the impassive expression on the plump, jowly face of the woman who'd saved her life.
"What the hell you runnin' around bare-assed for, blondie?" the woman asked, hoisting her easily to her feet, where Carolyn crouched and cringed, still very heedful of the clamor just yards away. "You come to dinner like that every night and every one of these boys'll get malnutrition."
"I was r-r-r-r . . ." Carolyn tried to explain. "In the forest, I thought it was wolves, and they came out from the bushes and s-s-s-sc-sc ... did awful things to me, took off my clothes and r-r-r-ra . . . They fucked me, those little baboons, they fucked me black and blue!"
The cook stepped back and surveyed her, said, "You look pink and red to me, except for all those pecker tracks on you. Little bastards, give them their head and they'll fuck all night long, or at least till it's time to eat. 'Scuse me, I gotta get dessert served up. Brown Betty tonight."
"They raped me, four of them, don't you understand!" said Carolyn, grasping the woman's thick arm, trying to turn her to face her.
She brushed Carolyn easily aside and headed back toward her kitchen, and Carolyn followed, propelled by the raucous clamorings behind the partition, drawn on in amazement by this woman's indifference. "Don't you understand, I was raped out there in the forest, at least four times! And by boys from this camp, boys who eat in this very dining room! I want you to call the police, right away, and call a doctor too!"
"It's a mess hall not a dining room, and you'll be in one helluva mess if you call the cops. Big old busty blonde like you gettin' raped by them little tads? Think they'd believe that? It'd be you to go to jail, for statutory rape. Quit hanging on me, will you? Them boys is hungry. As for callin' a doctor, you don't need one. A little fucking in the woods never hurt no woman."
"But I might be p-p-p-pregnant!"
The cook stepped back and surveyed her, looked her up and down, and made her vainly try to cover her nudity with her hands once again. The bulky woman said, "You ain't pregnant. You got all their cum on the outside of you, from the looks of it."
"EEK! Get it off! It's burning me!" Carolyn cried, slapping at her loins, her breasts, everywhere she could feel that dried crust of sexual vileness.
"Get it off yourself, I'm busy. BROWN BETTY ON THE WAY, BOYS," she yelled, and elbowed Carolyn aside.
This time Carolyn stopped her. She grabbed her arm and dug in, turned her about, and said to her weary face, "I've got to wash myself, I can't get p.g., not at the hands of those little baboons!"
"So? You got a shower at your place, don't you? Use it."
"I can't go out there naked!"
"It's the way you got here. Aw, shit. I can't stand here arguing all night. Grab a burlap sack out of that pile and get on home before you have a litter of kittens in my clean kitchen. 'Scuse me, lady."
Carolyn rushed to the pile in the corner, grabbed up a potato sack and immediately found a pair of scissors close at hand. She was busily cutting out a hole for her head when she saw on the floor some disks of sacking, just the same size as the eye and mouth holes of the sacks those boys had worn over their heads during her horrible ordeal in the forest. She proceeded to make her makeshift costume and was dressed in it when Martha Wilkes returned.
"Not bad," said the cook. "At least you got yourself a skirt of the right length now."
Carolyn confronted her coolly. "My attackers used this kitchen. I have evidence of that, and I have at least circumstantial evidence that you had some prior knowledge of it all. Now, are you going to call the police or not?"
"That's up to David," said Martha, busy again at her work, unconcerned. Obviously guilty as hell, but of exactly what and why, Carolyn had no idea. "I'll call him and tell him you want to see him, but my best advice for you, girlie, is to keep your mouth shut. It don't do no good to complain. If you don't like the situation you're in, then just move on down the road."
Carolyn slipped out the back door and into the night, and the moment she was out there it struck her that her rapists might still be on the prowl. She knew she had to be utterly silent as she glided through the gathering dusk to the safety of her cabin and she tried to keep close to the mess hall for as long as she could and out of the moonlight. The burlap sack was chafing unbearably against her bruised skin and her socks were drooping down around her ankles. She was covered with dirt, and now as she tiptoed through the shadows she fell over a trash can, sprawling forward with a loud clatter and rolling out into the moonlight.
"Keep away from me! I know you're out there," she cried, "and it won't be so easy to rape me now! Keep away, I say, keep away!" she kept calling out as she edged toward her cabin, looking all around her and going carefully.
She entered the cabin with a great sense of relief and immediately took off the burlap sack. Her skin felt scraped raw, every square inch of it, and her nerves were shot. She was in a state of shock and should have been in a hospital, but as it was, the shower was a very good second choice. She turned the water on good and warm and she soaped herself lavishly. The bathroom filled with fragrant clouds of steam as she scrubbed herself from head to toe. She washed her hair and rinsed it under the thick stream of warm, comforting water, washed all those dreadful semen stains from her body, then settled down to washing her vulval area, her vagina, and her clitoris.
Carolyn intended to do a thorough job of it. She certainly didn't want to get pregnant. She leaned back against the shower wall and directed the shower head right at her loins. The head was adjustable, so she could get one thick stream of water that thudded hard against her pubic mound. Legs apart, she soaped herself vigorously, all up and down her swollen labia, up within her poor, violated vagina, all around between her legs while she let the stream of water give her clitoris a good, hard washing. It, too, was still swollen and the steadily thrumming water hit against it directly. She helped in the process by spreading her labia wide and tilting her hips up, smiling down with satisfaction as she watched the thick stream hitting against it, washing it very very thoroughly indeed.
She lathered up a wash cloth and repeated the process, going all over everything again with the nice, rough cloth, scrubbing and scrubbing to make sure every trace of her rapists was gone, and then she rubbed in big handfuls of hot water, feeling better, cleaner all the time. Settling back against the wall, hips tilted and labia spread, she watched, smiling as the thick stream of water thrummed against her clitoris once again. She was beginning to feel a little human again, she decided, as the big waterspout beat steadily against her clitoris, well over an inch long now, and being cleaned of every trace of the four baboons who'd followed her into the forest.
Martha was right, they're bastards all of them, she thought as she watched the cleansing job. Stuck their hard little white pricks in me. Sucked on my titties like pigs. Just about smashed my clitoris flat, but it's going to be all right now, it's getting nice and fat again. And they squirted their stuff all over me, all over me! Awful stuff, awful boys, terrible ordeal. Worse than what Spike did to me, worse than Miss Trowbridge catching Iris and me modeling lingerie, but I'll survive, starting to feel better all the time. Whew! The water's so nice and warm. I'm feeling good all over. Scrub again. Real hard! Mmmm-m-m-m. Now rinse.
Oh God, my clit looks so big! Give it a good washing this time. Lay back and just feel it getting washed. Wonderful. Wonderful.
"Miss Holm, are you all right?"
"Eek!" She yipped and covered her crotch with one hand, a part of her breasts with the other. "Who is it?!? Who's out there?!? Don't come in here! I'm completely naked!"
"It's Mr. Sloane, Carolyn," he said, and she breathed a sigh of relief and opened her hand to the stream of the water again. "Martha told me what happened to you and I came right over with some medicinal brandy to see what I could do. I heard your voice. Are you alone in there? It's so steamy in here I can't see a thing."
"I guess I was talking to myself. I'm all alone. I'm still a little hysterical. It was terrible, Mr. Sloane. They even paddled me out there! Did you say you had some brandy?"
She stifled a squeal as the shower door opened and his hand, holding a glass filled nearly to the brim, appeared through the rising mists. She could see him dimly through the steam, but he obviously couldn't see her, for his expression didn't change as he stood there offering her the brandy. She took it and sipped it while he stood waiting for the glass. It warmed her going down, choked her a little with its fire, but she sipped steadily at it while continuing to smooth the rinse water over her loins.
"I want to report this to the police," she told him.
"Well talk about that in the morning. Did they paddle you severely?"
"They blistered me," she said, half turning, and rubbing her sore bottom.
"Little animals. I'll attend to that. I'm qualified in first aid. Are you feeling faint?"
"A little," she said, and handed him back the empty glass.
He turned off the water. "Best come out of there now."
"Please, Mr. Sloane!" she said, covering up again as the mists began to clear. "I can take care of myself."
He smiled a kindly smile and said, "I'm sure you can, my dear, but we can't have you fainting and knocking your head against something, now can we? Come out now, we'll dry you off, and I'll tend to your blisters while you tell me exactly what happened for my report."
He was holding up a big towel and looking away, and Carolyn timidly stepped out of the shower and into the snuggly warm folds of the terrycloth. He patted it around her shoulders and back and waist while she assured him her faintness would pass. She dried her breasts and tummy and loins while he very helpfully got to his knees and rubbed the long folds of the towel over her legs, briskly and yet tenderly, aware that she might have bruises everywhere on her fine young body. She thanked him and tucked the big towel around her torso just under her armpits, then used a smaller towel to dry her hair. She wrapped up her hair using the towel like a turban while he waited watchfully, ready to catch her if she fainted, and he steadied her by the arm as he led her into her bedroom.
"Just lie down on your bed on your stomach, Carolyn," he said. "That's right. Here. Best have a few more ounces of this brandy. Drink it slowly," he said, patting her back, holding the glass for her. She drank and smiled up at him gratefully. "Now lie flat, get comfortable, and we'll examine your injuries."
The light had been dimmed, so he had to bend close over her as he gently pulled aside the towel. She could hear his breathing, even and deep, as he gently touched the myriad little cuts and bruises that marked her back and buttocks and legs. He clucked and said, "Contusions, abrasions, and bruises, but this lotion will make them feel better. Brandy settling well in your stomach, Carolyn ?"
"Mm-hmm," she said, nodding and smiling as she felt his large, comforting hand smooth a generous amount of cooling lotion onto her back.
The lotion smelled good and felt good as he smoothed it over her relaxing shoulders, on the narrowing vee of her back, down through the long, shallow indentation of her spine. He sat on the bed beside her to do this. There was just enough room for him. His tweed-covered knee was four inches away from her nose as he worked the healing lotion in, talking to her smoothly and comfortingly, sympathizing with her for the ordeal she'd been through, assuring her that she'd be feeling just fine soon. She was feeling better already. The brandy had worked wonders toward relaxing her and his hands and the lotion were most effective in making the little pains in her back disappear.
"I'll just turn around and get your legs. Lie still, dear, don't move a muscle."
"Mm-hm-m-m-m," she murmured, as he shifted around on the bed, clucked over the little pine needle cuts on the backs of her legs, and began with the lotion there. It was good to have him there. He gave her strength. She liked his soft, warm voice, even liked the gentle rustlings of his clothes as he massaged her legs and healed them, starting at her ankles, working up over the soft bulges of her sore calves, working the lotion in behind her knees, and massaging it in very thoroughly up the swelling tapers of her thighs. All over the outsides of her hips it went, feeling almost as good as the brandy inside her. Magically, he was making the pain disappear, until his sleeve brushed against the sorest swell of her bottom and she flinched.
"Carolyn, I'm terribly sorry. Tsk. Didn't realize just how tender you are there. I'll be as gentle as I can. Be brave, dear."
She tensed as he poured the cool lotion onto her buttocks, forming discernible patterns with the creamy stuff, letting it drool down over the reddened hillocks of her posterior and into the deep crack between them. It tickled a bit, it felt good, and he was so gentle that his hands hardly hurt at all when they began working it in. She felt close to dozing, yet strangely and wonderfully awake. She knew he was making an effort to be gentle, for his hands were slightly trembling and there was a slight wavering in his voice as he spoke to her, telling her how very lovely she was, and what a terrible crime it had been for those boys to take off all her clothes and kiss her breasts and clitoris, and put their hot little cocks in her sweet little cunt and fuck her and fuck her and fuck her till they all felt good.
"Don't know how I stood it," she murmured.
"I don't either. I feel so very badly about it. Let's spread those lovely legs wider, dear. Here, I'll do it. Now I can smooth in the lotion down here in this sweet little crack of your lovely little bottom. There. Doesn't that feel good?"
"Yes. Oh, yes."
"You know, Carolyn, you really do have an exceptionally lovely posterior. If you weren't so devoted to teaching, you could model panties."
"Do you think so, Mr. Sloane?"
"Definitely. I could picture you modeling lacy little panties for that company out west that specializes in daring, wicked undergarments. And I can picture you modeling them in person, at buyer's shows and at businessmen's luncheons, walking around with nothing on but a wisp of blue satin, smiling your beautiful smile, exposing what's got to be a perfectly lovely pair of breasts, and getting paid very well for it. Yes, it's a lovely bottom."
"Nice of you to say that, but I'd rather teach!"
"Oh, of course. Here, let me get those legs a little wider apart. Mm. Even your anus is pretty. It's all pink and puckered, just like a very sweet and very special mouth, all waiting to be kissed. Does that feel good when I rub in the lotion right there?"
"Feels fine."
"Yes-s-s-s. That's right, get your legs a little wider apart and raise up that beautiful, gorgeous, lovely ass of yours just a little. Fine. Now I can rub the lotion in really well, really well, all around that precious mouth and even a little ways inside it. Oh, I'll bet that does feel nice."
"Mm-hm-m-m-m-m."
"You know, late at night like this, I'm often given to fantasy when I'm alone in my cabin. Right now I'm fantasizing. You're so lovely I can't help it. Know what I'm wondering?"
"Mm-mm."
"Given the opportunity, I'm wondering where a man would kiss you on this perfectly gorgeous body of yours. If a man were granted just one kiss, I think he might do it right here," he said, and his fantasy became so real that Carolyn entered into it, and could tell exactly what it would feel like to have a man press his warm lips against her anus and slip his tongue inside the tingling hole for a moment. It made her blush, and it made her smile. It made him sigh dreamily.
"Right here is where they raped you, eh? Legs a bit wider, dear, and hips a little higher. That's right. You can put your hands under your loins to properly elevate your lovely round ass. Is this where they put their hot cocks in you Carolyn? Did they slip them in this hole here?"
"Mm-hm."
"Tsk. Right in your vagina. Right in your love-hole. I don't think they stretched it. It's nice and tight. Wet, too. Is it sore at all?"
"Feels good."
"Yes, I'll just bet it does. I'll bet it felt good for those little baboons in the forest too, eh? That's right, help me with the massage, move your pretty hips a little, move that gorgeous ass. Keep moving, darling, while I have a look. Just bend right over here and . . . Oh, my. Oh Carolyn."
"What's the matter?"
"Lie still, dear. Nothing's wrong. It's just that I'm very pleasantly surprised to see that your sweet little cunt is even prettier than your anus. Amazing. They certainly did a fine job of shaving it. Hips up higher, honey. My, what a big clit you have! No, go right on squeezing it with your precious little fingers. You know, there isn't a man alive who wouldn't want to kiss you here. Mmmmm. Mm-m-m-m-m. Tastes beautiful. Mmm-m-m-m."
"Feels nice, real nice."
"Yeah. Yeah, it sure does," he said, breathing very deeply now almost panting, clothes rustling softly. "Rub that clit, honey, and make it feel good."
"I am. Oooo, I am."
"Yes-s-s-s. We'll both feel good together."
"Mm-hm-m-m."
"Gorgeous body."
"Nice man."
"You're feeling good all over, and so am I."
"Yes-s-s-s."
"Want some more good lotion?"
"Want your hands, too."
"Here it is, honey, nice and warm, good and thick, plenty of it, oh yeah, yeah, yeah-h-h...."
"That's it. All over my fanny, all over my gorgeous ass."
"Yes. Yes-s-s-s! Yes, wiggle it around while I squirt it all over you, while I rub it in hard and make you feel good all over, good all over! Yes! Yes! YES!"
"Yes, Mr. Sloane! That's it! Rob it in hard! Oh, it's so warm, and it smells so good!"
"So fucking good!"
"Yes, so fucking fucking fucking good!" she said, and he stayed right with her until her very relaxed body settled down into a beautiful dreamless slumber.
CHAPTER SIX
Carolyn was up and out of bed, feeling marvelous, before she even remembered her terrible ordeal of the day before, and when she did remember what all had happened to her, she went right on about her early morning routine with stoic aplomb. Standing at the window, she told herself she'd been raped, but that she wasn't the first woman it had happened to. Doing her sitting up exercises, she decided that perhaps her advisors were right, and that it would cause more harm than good to report it. In the icy shower, she remembered how very nice Mr. Sloane had been to her, though that memory was hazy, and she couldn't tell which part of it had been real and which a dream.
She dressed in her plainest panties--pink with just a touch of lace--a matching brassiere that was reassuringly constricting, and put on a bulky white angora pullover sweater and an old, voluminous black cotton skirt that came down to below her knees. In flat, sensible shoes, with her hair pulled back in a tight bun, she looked properly severe enough to confront the boys with learning while offering them nothing--not even a trace of lipstick--to tantalize their lusty little sexual appetites.
She was a little later than the day before to the mess hall, but again she was the first to arrive. Going behind the serving partition to get her food, she was shocked to see Martha Wilkes, the camp cook, with the top of her dress stripped down to her waist, and two of the school's prize baboons sucking on her enormous big breasts like a pair of greedy piglets.
Carolyn flushed scarlet but she remained expressionless as she said, "You ought to be ashamed of yourself!"
Martha Wilkes hugged the wide-eyed boys closer and said, "You ought to mind your own business."
"At least have the decency to stop!"
"Why? It's just getting good. Help yourself to the French toast, blondie, and if you don't want to get fucked again, keep out of the forest"
Carolyn ate alone, in silence, and when the first of the boys came into the mess hall, she got up and went to her classroom. There on the blackboard, with crude but disgusting clarity, was another picture of herself with the boys. Her stick figure was lying spread-eagled on the ground, shouting, "More! More!", while four masked boys stuck their pricks in her and spattered her with their loathsome juices.
She'd almost been ready for it, but not for that, "More!", business. The eraser was gone, so she went quickly to Mr. Sloane's classroom and got one, rubbed her blackboard clean, muttering, "I didn't say anything about wanting more. It was all disgusting to me, like a very bad dream. I was going to forgive and forget, but if that's how those little hoodlums are going to act, at least HI get some kind of revenge on them."
They came trooping in late, grinning lewdly and talking obscenely. She sat at her desk, knees together and hands folded, and when at last they'd taken their seats she said, "You've been wasting time and learning very little. I have a lesson schedule which I plan to adhere to. Anyone who doesn't keep up with me will fail this class and have to repeat it. There is the multiplicand and the multiplier, and . . ."
"Let's fuck!"
"Show us your tits, teacher!"
". . . in division there is the divisor and the dividend, and here we have the elements in...."
"Let's take off her pants and fuck her!"
"Do a strip for us, Carolyn!"
". . . multiplication and division. On page fifty-six in your book you will find . . ."
"Let's all eat her box for lunch!"
"Teacher, will you suck my prick?"
She slammed her hand down on the desk, then pointed at one of the boys she'd seen with the cook that morning. "You! Get up here and drop your pants, right now!"
He grinned at the rest of the class and slowly got to his feet, unbuckling his belt as he came up the aisle. He stood before her on her elevated platform, head thrown back and sneering as he dropped his pants. She planned on taking Mr. Sloane's advice with this application of corporal punishment, wielding the paddle against a naked bottom, knowing how much more it hurt, and further humiliating him before his peers before she did the job on him. But now as he dropped his pants she felt sure she recognized him as one of her assailants in the forest, and she became so flustered that her plans for humiliation went begging. She got up with the paddle, went behind him, and POW!, SWAT!, WHACK!, gave him just three swats with such force that part of her blonde curls came tumbling out of the bun on her head.
He turned to face her, rubbing his bare bottom with one hand and stroking his prick with the other, making it swell, making it stiffen, making her eyes widen, and he said, "Is that all you got for me, teach?"
"Take your seat. We must get on with the lesson."
On and on she lectured, through continuous interruptions of catcalls, controlling herself, controlling herself. She worked from the book and at the blackboard, very actively, wishing the time would pass faster, and after about an hour of this, one of her students raised his hand.
"Yes, uh, Kenny?"
"My name's Jimmy, and I've gotta take a leak bad, teacher."
The others laughed, of course, but Carolyn maintained her aplomb and said, "I'm afraid you're so far behind you'll just have to hold it, James."
"But I gotta piss," he said, rising from his seat. "Give me the key to the John, damnit."
"Come up here and get three swats for cursing in class, but you're not going to get the key to the rest room from me. You'll just have to wait until luncheon recess, and that goes for all the rest of you too."
A chorus of moans went up. Their sound was more pleasing to Carolyn than those made by the perforated paddle on the boy's bare bottom. It wasn't much of a revenge to deprive them of the right to relieve themselves, but it was something, and Carolyn appreciated it. She suppressed a smile as she saw the increasing amount of fidgeting among her students, as she saw them looking at the clock more and more. Now she wanted the time to drag for them, and it certainly did, if their grumblings were any indication. One small victory, the harbinger of many others, she thought, when at last the bell rang and they all went charging out of their seats.
Carolyn skipped lunch. She absolutely refused to sit down at a table with animals like those. Instead she strolled around the baseball diamond, walked between the playground and the edge of the forest, looking for birds in the branches and pretty flowers in the undergrowth. She wasn't hungry at all, and she felt very good, until she heard the sound of a snake in the woods.
"Psssst!"
She stopped and peered through the warm tangle of branches. Mr. Sloane had told her there were no. venomous snakes in the area, but still she was a little bit frightened and still she wanted to see it.
"Psssst!"
It couldn't be but a few yards deep in the forest, and she lifted her skirts well up over her knees and stepped over a charming little grouping of ferns to see if she could find it.
"Pssst!"
Deeper she went, pressing branches aside, still a little frightened, but enjoying that feeling too as she sought to commune with nature, all by herself in the forest.
She was four steps into a little glade, a lovely little shaded clearing in the forest with sunbeams slanting through the branches before she saw them, four of them, all naked save for their masks and shoes, and one of them twirling a lasso in the fashion of a rodeo cowboy.
"EEK! EEEEEEEK!" She turned to run, staggered sideways when her ankle twisted, and the rope fell over her head and tightened about her chest, pinioning her arms and biting deeply into her already tightly compressed breasts. "EEK! HELP! I'M BEING RAPED AGAIN!" she shouted, but the thick green foliage seemed to muffle her outcries as she was dragged back into the middle of the clearing, unable to even strike out at the boys this time.
"Tie her hands behind her back. I want to see those big old tits they were talking about last night in the barracks."
"String her up to that tree so's we can have us a good look at her."
"HELP! THEY'RE GOING TO HANG ME!"
"That's it. Hoist her arms up over her head."
"Boy, look at those legs. I been dying to feel them all day in class. They look so damned good under her desk!"
"Take her skirt right off!"
"YOU BABOONS! YOU BEASTS! YOU MONSTERS! LET ME LOOSE!"
"Christ, but she yells loud!"
"Gag her. Here, I'll pull off her pretty little pink panties and stuff them in her mouth."
"I want to stuff my cock in her mouth, man!"
"HELP! HEL-L-L-L-L-LP! THEY'RE GOING TO KILL ME! I'M BEING RA .. . MMF! MMF!"
Her panties silenced her. They were shoved in her mouth, smelling faintly of the lotion that Mr. Sloane had so lovingly applied to her ravaged vulval area the night before. She was entirely helpless with her arms stretched up over her head, entirely silenced by the silken gag in her mouth.
They stripped her naked, and they took their time about it. She was already bare from the waist down, and while one of them poked and played about her shaven loins, another roved his hands over her exposed bottom, pinching and toying with the tender flesh there, sticking his dirty fingers in between the pristine white loaves of her buttocks. Another of her assailants took off her shoes and socks, then helped the fourth while together they scissored off her pretty white angora sweater and cut away her tight brassiere so that her lovely big breasts spilled out into the sunshine, their nipples made rosy pink and bone hard from her terror.
"Damn, she's sure got 'em. They're ten times prettier than old Martha's."
"And I bet they taste ten times as good."
They'd stretched the rope so she was up on her tiptoes, and this presented her naked breasts just at the level of the boys' mouths so that they stood erect and comfortable while each of them sucked happily on a bright pink rigid nipple while he used his hands on the soft and creamy white mounds of her breasts. With her arms stretched upward like that, her breasts were understandably flattened, and this somehow made them seem more sensitive to the unwanted attentions they were getting. Carolyn could feel every little convolution of the tongues that laved over them, was aware of each small ridge of the fingers that played over her, but still she didn't weep, didn't shed a single tear.
She bore it, but it wasn't easy, for down below they were trying further to break through her icy calm. One of them was down on his knees now, using his lips on her clitoris, trying to make it swell up and sexually respond, while the other was rubbing his dirty little prick all over her bottom, pushing it in the cleft between her buttocks to touch that sweet opening there that Mr. Sloane had so enchantingly described to her.
"Nice tits. Really nice!"
"The guys who jumped her yesterday were sure telling the truth about 'em."
"Man, what a clit! Mmmmm-m-m-m-m. It sticks right out like a little finger! Mmmm-m."
"I want to fuck her in the ass. Man, what an ass! But first I want to paddle her as hard as she got me this morning."
That statement narrowed the identity of that rapist down to two, for Carolyn had only paddled two boys that morning, but the trouble was that in her state of extreme consternation and distress, she couldn't for the life of her recall who had received her corporal wrath. The boys in her classroom, it seemed, were all as faceless as this quartet of masked hoodlums in the forest. But then all thought of a later apprehension of even one of this band of rapists fled her, for the boy behind her began to paddle her soundly.
WHACK! SPLAT! SMACK! The sound of wood against the tenderest of flesh resounded through the lovely glade as he swatted her hard. The boy in front of her was still sucking and licking her clitoris, and each of the blows from behind drove her forward against his mouth with such force that it was totally impossible that her clitoris remain under control. She could feel it swelling up with each of the blows, helped along by the suction on it, until it throbbed so strongly she thought it might burst. Even after the boy behind her quit his awful punishment, her body continued to thrust back and forth, whipping like a palm tree in the wind against the three sucking mouths on nipple, nipple and clit.
"That was neat," said the one in the back. "Her ass is the color of her nipples."
"Hey, let's spank her tits! Gimmie the paddle," said one, as he smacked his lips off her nipple.
Carolyn shook her head wildly, shook her whole body in fact, but her mute protest did no good at all. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! The terribly hard paddle was forcefully swung against her tenderly soft breasts with great force and precision, while down below the boy on his knees sucked blithely away at her badly swollen clitoris and Carolyn watched in horror, ablaze with hot pain, while the perforations in the paddle left regular white disks on her poor punished breasts as they were turned crimson by the cruel paddle.
"Take the panties out of her mouth and let her breathe."
"Lower her down from that tree branch."
"Thank you, thank you, thank you," she murmured, all but swooning as pure air rushed into her lungs and her lovely naked body began to crumple to the soft floor of the forest.
"Let's take her over to that fallen tree and really give it to her good, really special."
"Please, please, please," she said, "I've had enough, I've had more than enough."
"What she say?" one asked, as she was pushed down with her soft white belly on the hard dark trunk of the fallen tree.
"She said she wanted some more," was the reply.
"No, I didn't say that," she explained, as her wrist rope was stretched forward and looped around a sapling. "I didn't say I wanted more, I said I'd had more than enough. Oh, no! Don't fuck me again, boys! I was fucked more yesterday than I ever was in my whole life!"
"More?" one of them asked, apparently the one who was pushing his stiff little cock into her very open and buttery vagina.
"Much more! Oh, much more!" she said, and he pushed it in harder, completely misconstruing her meaning. "NO, DON'T PUT THAT IN MY POOR VAGINA. PLEASE DON'T!" she shouted.
"Okay," he said, and took it out, only to begin boring it into her anus.
"NO, NOT THERE!!! NO, THAT'S THE WRONG PLACE, THE WRONG HOLE, YOU STUPID LITTLE BABOON! PUT IT IN MY VAGINA! STICK IT IN MY CUNT, YOU IDIOT!!!"
Now, thoroughly excited, the boy didn't hear. He pushed it right on in and began to work it back and forth with vigor while Carolyn squalled and squirmed, fought against the ropes and tried to kick backward at him. They had her in their total control, and all she could do was relax and enjoy the feeling of the lessening, then the vanishing pain as she was thoroughly sodomized under the spreading pines.
They all four did it to her there. Once she'd relaxed and gone stoic, she could bear it quite well, though she was unable to stop squirming because of the fiendish little itch that had been left on her clitoris by the one's lips and tongue. She was sweating and squirming, yelling and kicking, but she wasn't crying, she didn't shed a single tear throughout the ordeal of having four stiff cocks, one after the other, pushed in side her slippery, sliding asshole and rubbed all around, pulled back and forth, finally to spew a dirty load of sex juice inside her formerly virginal anus. Somehow she withstood it without shedding a tear, and she was even able to muster up a small, weary smile of triumph after they'd taken their filthy satisfaction with her and untied her and propped her back against the tree trunk.
"Man, she looks like she really dug it."
"Damn right she did. She's a hot one, a lot hotter than fat old Martha Wilkes."
"But Martha sure knows how to cook."
Carolyn just closed her eyes to them, feigning a faint, not even trying to listen when they began to buzz and giggle between themselves. Oddly enough, she did feel at peace lying there in the forest, backed up against the arboreal couch of her anal defloration, and she felt as if she might doze off and spend the afternoon in peaceful slumber, until it began to rain on her.
It was warm rain, salty rain that struck her face, and it was a rain most reminiscent of her delightful shower of the evening before that was thrumming against her crotch. She opened her legs to feel more of that, licked her lips to savor the strangely compelling flavor of the salty rain, and at last opened her sleepy eyes to gaze up at its origin, high above the tree-tops, up the heavens where clouds are born, way up there where . . .
"EEEE-E-E-EEEK!" They were urinating on her. The very concept of it was so shocking, so unbelievable, that for several moments Carolyn could only sit there and watch, with hot, shuddery waves of revulsion wracking through her naked body, while two streams of yellow arced down to splatter directly against her fearfully rigid nipples and two more converged to splash hard into her wide open slit, thudding and thrumming against her abused clitoris with steady vibrations.
"EEEEEK! EEEE-E-E-EK!" She screamed and screamed, but that was the only part of her body that was functioning properly. The rest of it was paralyzed completely, with the other exception of her eyes, wide as saucers as she watched her luscious naked body being befouled. It had to be a dream, she told herself, some insane nightmare from which she'd wake up momentarily as clean and sweet as the day she was born. But the dream didn't end. It went on and on, for the boys could seemingly pee just as long as they could fuck. Their streams of yellow diminished extremely slowly while Carolyn sat there squealing, unmoving, until the quartet were all standing around her shaking the last few drops from their nasty little organs and grinning smugly through the mouth holes of their masks, and then at last she could move.
And move she did. "EEEEEE-E-E-EEEEK! HELP ME, I'VE BEEN RAPED. EE-E-EK!" she shrieked, on her feet now and sending the boys scattering from the sheer force of her bellowings, plunging blindly about through the clearing in the forest, crashing through the trees, and bursting suddenly out into the playground area where all the rest of the students were gathered, all of them looking at her defiled nudity with large grins on their faces.
CHAPTER SEVEN
"EEEEEEEEK! HELP ME! GET AWAY, YOU!!!" She had to fight her way through them. If they'd had one spark of human decency in them they'd have tenderly carried her to a hospital bed where her body could be cleansed and healed. But these boys were such animals that they closed in and grabbed at her instead of helping her, grabbed at her naked breasts and buttocks, pinched her and even goosed her as she elbowed and fought her way through them, screaming all the way, trying to drown out their obscene catcalls.
"Let's all take her on right now!"
"Our turn comes tonight!"
"Wow, does she ever jiggle!"
"Teacher's got an ass on her like nobody's business!"
"EEEEK! EEEEEEK!" Somehow she made her way through them, somehow she escaped from the seemingly thousands of hands that clutched and grabbed everywhere at her naked, sodden body, and the moment she was free of them she took off running for the group of buildings that made up the camp in the forest. She high-stepped it. She'd been something of a minor star on the girl's track team in college, placing well and consistently in the hurdle dashes, and as tired as she was now she outdid every time she'd ever been clocked in as she moved her body across the field. The gravel under her bare feet didn't bother her and neither did the bouncings and jouncings of her breasts and buttocks. She'd quit competition in college because even the tightest brassieres and shorts could not properly restrict her most feminine parts from their quite discomforting movements while she was on the track, but now her heavily bobbing breasts and her rapidly bouncing buttocks were reminders that gave her added speed as she ran like the wind, with more than a dozen shrieking, lusting animals at her flying heels. She was going so fast she ran right past the haven of her cabin, right past the mess hall where she might have found safety behind the skirts of Martha Wilkes, and she could only slow down when she came to the cabin which served as Mr. Sloane's office and living quarters. She opened the door without breaking stride, slammed it behind her, and leaned back panting against it.
Mr. Sloane looked up from the thick steak on his desk with eyes that were very wide. "Well!" he said. "What brings you to see me on a lovely day like this, Miss Holm?"
She was too out of breath to answer. She could only stand there panting and holding her hands before her private parts, while he pushed his chair back and got up, and with his crisp white linen napkin held before him, came solicitously over to her side.
"What seems to be the trouble, dear? Have you had some more trouble with the boys? You realize, Miss Holm, that going out of your cabin in that attire simply invites trouble. You certainly worked up a sweat," he said, running his hand over her shoulder and down her arm to her hip and flank.
"Not sweating," she said, gasping. "Th-They raped me again in the forest, then wet all over me. All over me!"
His hand jerked away and he drew back. "Little jackals! They ought to be shot. Come. Let's get you cleaned up. Into the shower first thing, and then I'll hear all about it for my report. Go along through that door, Miss Holm, while I fetch you a drop of medicinal brandy."
It was four ounces more than a drop, and she needed every bit of it. She drank it down while standing under the warm water of Mr. Sloane's shower, while he stood by, nodding and smiling his encouragement, giving her strength with his very presence.
"Pissed on you, did they?" he said. "Tsk, tsk, tsk. Took you into the forest and raped you and then pissed all over that lovely body. What a sacrilege against beauty. Did they piss on those lovely breasts of yours, Carolyn?"
She nodded, biting her lip, looking down at her lovely, thrusting breasts, relieved to see them still glowing pinkly, unstained, with the nipples still as firm as they could be. "Here too," she said, parting her legs, spreading the swollen lips of her vulva with her fingers to make sure there were no stains there.
"Best wash that pretty little pussy really well," he said, and reaching through the water, he showed her exactly how, cupping his hand about her shaven pudendum to catch the cleansing water and rubbing it in deeply and extensively to wash away every trace of the boys' urine from her tender, private, pink tissues. His smile grew warmer as she thrust her hips forward, so that his shirtsleeve wouldn't be wet from the water.
"Fanny, too?" he gently asked.
She nodded abashedly, looking up at him through her long wet lashes.
"Turn around, darling," he said, with a last patting rinse on her pubes, "and I'll help you wash there. That's right. Just bend over nicely and spread those lovely white asscheeks of yours so I can see up there and get this nice warm water all up against that pretty little mouth that's so cunningly hidden up there."
"D-Did it leave any stains, any marks?" she anxiously asked.
He gave her a thorough examination with his hands and said, "It looks just fine. Just as pretty as a picture, all rosy and pink as can be, dear."
"Oh, I'm so relieved," she said, wilting a bit, having to hang onto the soap dish as her knees went weak under her. "I probably shouldn't tell you this, but . . . Oh, I'm so ashamed!"
"What, dear? You can tell your principal anything. Remember the pal part of principal and tell me all about it. What was it? Did they paddle you again? Yes, I can see the marks. Poor thing, it must hurt a great deal, but we know how to take care of that, don't we? What a shame! To paddle a bottom as beautiful as that is a mortal sin. Tsk, I want to kiss it and make it well, but that wouldn't be a very mature thing to do now, would it?"
"I guess not," she said, waggling and working her bottom a bit under his soothing, moving hands as she remained under the water, bent double at the waist with her back to the shower door.
"Is that what they did to you, dear? Did they paddle you again, honey?"
She nodded. "Yes, and not just on my bottom, but that. . . back there . . . that place you thought was so pretty . . . that was where they raped me this time," she said, her voice fading to a shamed little whisper as she completed her confession.
"Where, here?!?" he said, placing the ball of his finger right where those four vile penises had entered Carolyn's body.
Again she nodded, too close to tears to speak.
"Well, we'll see to that right away. First a little first aid, then a more thorough examination and treatment later. The most important thing about first aid is cleanliness," he said, touching her hand as he picked up the soap and began to lather up her protruding bottom and the curvaceous crack between her buttocks. "Germs are everywhere, you know, and we've got to get rid of every last one of them. Hold still, dear, don't squirm and fidget around so, and I'll just get you nice and clean while I make my first inspection. In we go, that's right. Okay, now you can wiggle it a little if that helps you feel better."
His finger, it seemed, was every bit as large as the penises that had entered her anus, but unlike the penises, the helping digit of his hand caused Carolyn no distress at all. She could even smile again as he slipped in and out of her with it, all smoothly done with the help of the lubricating and cleansing qualities of the soap. He felt all around in there while she swayed forward and back with the movements of his hand, while she heard but hardly listened to his soothing words.
"It feels fine. I doubt if there's any damage, but we'll see about that later. Good and tight. No pain at all, is there? Sweet little mouth, all puckered up as if it's sucking my fingers. Let's see if we can get a third one in there. Here we go, easy does it, oh, yes, you've got a nice soft asshole that'll stretch right out and take almost anything. Mmmmm. Ohhhhh. Bet that feels good, eh? Bet you could spend the whole afternoon getting fingerfucked in the ass, you gorgeous blonde hunk of hot meat."
"Mm-hm-m-m-m," she said, smiling and nodding, moving her tormented bottom about in a most luxurious fashion, much of her terrible ordeal gone, flitting out of her memory.
"Whew!" he said, slipping his fingers out of her, and eliciting a tiny mewl of protest from her as he did. "That's about enough showering, honey pie. There's an energy crisis going on, and we've got a water shortage too. Come out of there, little girl, and we'll dry you off and put you in my nice soft bed and make you feel good all over."
He did most of the drying off. Carolyn felt so weak and dreamy that it was all she could do to dry her hair while he rubbed her body with a thick Turkish towel. It was so wonderful to be waited on in the aftermath of the brutal treatment she'd received that Carolyn felt like a queen, especially when he was kneeling at her feet, blotting her crotch good and dry, pressing warm kisses against her there and telling her in reassuring tones that there was nothing at all wrong with being possessed of a shaven cunt. It was all a very welcome respite from the awful rigors of her experience in the forest, until he rose to rub her breasts dry. "Ouch!"
He grinned, misunderstanding, and said, "Are those lovely big knockers of yours that sensitive, baby?"
"It's what I was going to tell you before, Mr. Sloane. Th-they paddled me there, too," she said, looking down, still not quite believing that her breasts could retain their upstanding shape after the paddling they'd received.
He was appalled. "What?!? Those jackals, those baboons, those hounds of Satan, they used your paddle on these beautiful breasts, on these luscious round orbs, on these great big heavenly boobies that any man in his right mind would give his left arm to just look at?!? Carolyn, I can't believe it!"
"It's true," she said, blinking back tears. "See the marks it left?" she asked, lifting her breasts, cupping them in her hands and moving them about, showing him the dim circles left by the holes in the paddle.
"I do believe you're right," he said, tenderly touching the circles with his fingertips, touching them with his lips in the softest, most gentle way. "Tsk. Still terribly sensitive from the way you jump. You're a very brave young woman, my dear. Come to my bedroom and I'll make your pretty titties all well. That's the girl. Go through here. This way, and we'll take your medicine, too. In we go. Just lie down, sweets."
She arranged herself on the bed while he smiled and nodded and sampled the brandy from the neck of the bottle before filling a glass for her. He held the glass while she sat up and drank from it, then murmured her thanks and lay back on the broad, wide bed. She watched while he rolled up his sleeves, much in the fashion of the physicians she'd seen on television, and came to sit by her side with his bottle of lotion.
He said, "Just put your arms up over your pretty head, dear. That's right, be comfy. I'll pour a little lotion on your poor sore breasts and work it in so well that soon you won't even know anything naughty's happened to you. Yes."
She watched while he poured it on, laughed when he joked that it reminded him of a pair of strawberry sundaes being topped with marshmallow sauce. She watched while his good, gentle hands smoothed it all over her slightly flattened but nevertheless very upright breasts, paying special attention to the nipples, but not in any way neglecting the creamy mounds supporting them. And listened, smiling, while he talked to her warm and soft and low: "Yes, you've lovely breasts, dear, just lovely. I told you you could be a panty model? You could be a brassiere model too, with lovely big breasts like those. But it'd be a shame to cover up a pair of big titties like those with a bra. I'd rather see you working as a topless waitress or as a stripper or a showgirl in Las Vegas, though of course you'd never even consider that; there's no challenge involved in that sort of work."
"Of course," she said, stretching and moving more comfortably on Mr. Sloane's bed while he massaged her tender breasts with his healing lotion.
"Of course you wouldn't consider it," he agreed, "but it would make a lot of men happy, make them forget about their cares if they could feast their tired eyes on this lovely big pair of knockers that I'm touching. Boobies like that aren't to be seen every day, no indeed. They're so big and round, and still so firm. These nipples stick right up, perfectly pink, wonderfully hard and yet totally soft, and they fit right between a man's fingers. You see?"
"Mm-hm. They sure do, Mr. Sloane," she said, as he moved his fingers as if trying to draw her nipples to an even more prominent pair of points.
"You know what the men at a topless place would all want to do if they saw your pretty titties all naked like this?"
"What, Mr. Sloane."
"This," he told her, and bent low over her to place his pursed lips first on one nipple, then on the other. He did this slowly, leisurely, smiling up at her with his eyes as he very gently showed her how a real man would treat her breasts. When he winked at her she couldn't help but smile and wink back, imagining herself a wicked Las Vegas showgirl, and hugging his head harder against her bosom to add to the illusion. His hair was attractively tousled and his eyes were shining brightly when she released him and he sat up again, cheeks flushed, breathing deep and strong. His hands went back to work right away, and his voice was more resonant as he spoke: "Yeah, you've got a great set, baby. Any man would like to fall asleep every night with one of those in his mouth. Women pay surgeons thousands of bucks for silicone titties like that. Honest to God, Carolyn, you've got better tits than Marilyn Monroe had or Racquel Welch or any of them! What's wrong?"
A tiny frown had knit her clear brow. She stirred uncomfortably as his hands stopped moving and she said, "I hate that word. It's so vulgar."
"What word?"
"You know."
"No, I don't. Tell me. Say it."
"Well . . . tits," she said, and had to look away, blushing furiously.
He turned her head to face him, looked deep into her eyes with a very serious expression on his face, and said, "There's nothing in the world wrong with that word. It's used in the animal world all the time, but spelled differently. Teats. T-e-a-t-s. Tits. We're animals, Carolyn, and you have tits, so let's face it, let's not beat about the bush. Now, what are these?" he asked, firmly cupping her breasts in both hands. "Say it, dear."
"Ti ... oh, I hate to. Tits. There. Now are you satisfied?"
He shook his head. "You'll have to do better than that if you're the educated, broad-minded woman I think you are. Now I want you to put your hands on them along with mine and tell me exactly what we're doing."
She sighed and placed her hands on her breasts. They were large enough to accommodate two pairs of hands. She said, "We're feeling my t-tits, making them feel better. Okay?"
"No, don't take your hands away. What did I do just a second ago that all men would like to do?"
"You kissed my tits. You sucked my nipples and kissed my tits, Mr. Sloane."
"Fine. Now take a good look at them and tell me what you see, how they look to a man."
"Mr. Sloane, do I have to?"
"You do," he said, his voice as firm as his hands.
"Well, I guess you could say I have pretty tits."
"Carolyn! You've a much better vocabulary than that!"
"Okay, they're gorgeous big tits, perfectly lovely knockers with nipples like Parisian rosebuds and mounds as white as snow."
"Good! Good! Go on!"
"Not many women have tits as good as mine. My tits stick right out through a sweater and they stand right up without any help from a bra. I've got tits that'd knock a man's eye out, tits that'd stop traffic, tits that feel even bigger than they really are when I've got a man's hot hungry mouth on them, sucking their nipples and licking them and kissing them all over while we both feel them up good and play with them and squeeze, and Mr. Sloane, you really know how to suck my tits!
"Oh, that feels good!" she said, writhing un-inhibitedly on the bed, while he smacked and sucked on them. "Feels so fucking good when you suck my big old tits and make the nipples hard like velvet covered balls in your mouth and whip them with your tongue and even bite them a little. Fuck, it even felt good when those little jackals pissed on my tits, my tits, my gorgeous big tits, my perfect big lovely tits," she fervently said, rolling about on the bed while Mr. Sloane sucked avidly on her nipple and she milked her tit to a bigger point for him, while with the other hand she rubbed hard at her marvelously burning clit, all thrust forward through the smoothly shaven lips of her cunt, big and fat as the fingers that pulled on it.
He licked his big tongue over the crested point and rolled her over on her belly, saying, "That's it, you prim prude nymphomaniac schoolteacher, you gorgeous hot whore, just keep on finger-fucking yourself and cumming while I take out my big hot cock and stick it right up your asshole. Lift your hips, damnit! Let me French you there first! Mmm. Mmm! MMMM!"
"Stick that hot tongue up my ass and make it feel good, you horny bastard," she said, waving her butt in the air, knees wide apart, cunt getting her entire hand wet as she pawed at her bursting clit and shoved two fingers in her hole. "Get my hot asshole all wet and steamy with your tongue and then shove your cock in it and cum with me before I go out of my mind!"
"Here it comes, baby. You feel it?"
"Oh, God! Feel it all the way up to my tits! Shove it in! Stick it in! I want that hot cock in my asshole. Oh, give it to me. More! MORE! LOTS MORE!!!"
Cheek and tits mashed flat against the bed, ass as high as it would go, she rocked back and forth with his deep, strong thrusts, moaning and mewling and laughing, while he dug his strong fingers into her soft hips and shoved his cock in her butt with such force that his big, heavy balls slapped up against her hand that was pulling on her clit. Up on his knees, he was grunting like an animal, snarling with each of his plunges into her body.
"CUM! CUM, DAMN YOU!" she squalled, cunt juice dripping down her thighs, making the room reek of pussy, and then a great cataclysm of an orgasm broke over her as she felt his fingers tighten even more, felt his pistoning cock swell rhythmically and squirt hotly in her.
"EEEK! EEK! I LOVE IT! I LOVE TO CUM AND CUM AND CUM-M-M-M WITH YOU! I LOVE YOU!!!"
"AND I LOVE YOU, YOU HOT WHORE! UR-R-R-R-R-RGH! SHOOTING A GALLON IN YOU! FUCK YOU FOREVER! CUM!!! CUM HARDER, CAROLYN!!!"
"EEEK! EEEEK AAOOO! AAAOOoo . . ."
She passed out from the intensity of it. She fainted dead away as the peak of sensation passed and she slipped forward and was flat on her belly, unconscious, when he withdrew his cock from her, all glistening and gooey with cum. She didn't stir when he washed her with a cloth, only smiled and murmured when he kissed her, and he dressed and allowed her to sleep for ten minutes before he woke her up.
"Feeling better, Carolyn?"
"What? Yes. Yes, much, thank you. Your massage was so nice that I must have fallen asleep. What time is it?"
He looked at his wrist watch. "Time for us to get back for the afternoon's lessons. Think you're up to it?"
"Of course I am." She sat up, drawing the bedspread chastely around herself. "I'm a professional teacher and there are students out there in bad need of an education. But I do need some clothes."
He laughed. "You certainly do, my dear. Wait here, rest a bit longer, and I'll dash over to your cabin and bring back whatever you'd like."
"Just about everything I have was sent to the laundry. If you wouldn't mind, just bring back the bundle and I'll be fine."
"Glad to," he said, and gave her a fatherly peck on the lips.
"You've been so very kind, Mr. Sloane, so understanding," she said, and kissed him back.
"All a part of my duties as an administrator," he told her, and slipped the tip of his tongue between her lips.
"When it comes to you, pal is certainly a part of the word, principal," she said, opening her kiss-bruised lips widely, and swirling deep in his mouth with her tongue.
"If you have any further trouble at all, come straight to me," he told her, and slipped the coverlet out of her hand for another tonguing kiss on her nipple.
"You can rest assured I'll do that," she said, smiling and pushing her gorgeous big tit against his kind face. "I really can't tell you how much I appreciate all you've done for me today, Mr. Sloane."
He rose licking his lips, pecked her again, and said, "Believe me, the pleasure was mine. Carolyn?"
"Yes?" she said as he stood up, and she leaned forward, the bedspread slipping out of her hand. "Yes, Mr. Sloane?"
"I think you should call me David, at least when we're alone."
"David," she said, and kissed his hand. "Such a nice name."
He took his hand from hers and zipped up his fly. "And Carolyn?"
"Yes, David? Yes?" she beamed up at him.
"If you'd like, you can finish my steak out there. Martha's always bringing them to me and I get a little tired, of them three times a day."
CHAPTER EIGHT
Sitting at his desk, wrapped in his robe, eating the remnants of his steak, Carolyn hadn't a thought in her head. It wasn't until he opened the door, bundle of laundry in hand, that it all came flooding back to her, making her feel all warm and wonderful, suffusing her cheeks with a girlish blush.
He said, "Here are your things, Miss Holm."
The flush left her cheeks. Her mind became very confused, and her face went pale as she stammered, "Th-thank you, D-D-D- ... Mr. Sloane."
He checked his watch. "You have three minutes till class starts. Please try to make it on time."
"Yes, sir. I'll be on time," she said, getting up at once, lowering her head so he couldn't see the tears shining in her eyes, though there was no need for that gesture as he'd already closed the door and left her alone.
Three minutes to go. She quickly tore off the brown paper from her bundle of clean clothes and rummaged through them for one of the four pairs of panties she'd sent in for washing. They were all there, but each of them had had the crotch cut out of them by one of the cruel boys who worked in the laundry. Close to panic, she sought for a brassiere, and found that those too had been mutilated by a scissors, for there were no ends to the conical cups. Grimly, however, she donned panties and bra of pale blue, trimmed with lacy edges, though the frilly lingerie gave no protection at all to the most modest portions of her anatomy. Her nipples stood out like beacons, and her entire vulval area was fully exposed to the warm mountain air. She shook her head in disgust, covered her face in embarrassment, then in renewed panic pawed through her outer garments that had been so trustfully given over to the diabolical hands of some juvenile jackal who worked in the laundry.
Sure enough, the first dress she pulled out--one of her favorites--had been cut from bodice to waist and from hemline to waistband on both sides. It might be repaired, but certainly not in less than three minutes. A blouse had had large holes cut in it where her partially exposed breasts would show through and a skirt had the entire seat of it snipped away. With growing haste, Carolyn quickly went through the rest of the stack until she found a charming little summery yellow dress that was perfectly intact. She put it on as quickly as she could, ripping several inches of side seam in the process, for whoever had gotten his hands on the pretty little cotton garment had apparently boiled it in water, for it was shrunken several very vital sizes.
It was so tight she could barely get into it. It was the tightest thing she'd ever worn. It fit her closer than a second skin, and when she'd at last succeeded in getting the zipper zipped, she couldn't even get a deep breath for fear it would burst. In Mr. Sloane's mirror she saw that her buttocks were outlined in shocking clarity, as if she was a prostitute advertising her wares rather than a hard-working and dedicated schoolteacher.
The upper mounds of her breasts swelled out alarmingly over the square cut bodice of the little dress, and her nipples--not covered at all by her bra, and rigid in her panic--pushed forth at the thin fabric to show themselves in very clear bas relief. The skirt came up to just an inch or two below the big round swells of her buttocks, and each time she tried to pull it down in the back, it rose in the front to a point where her crotchless panties were in danger of being seen.
She couldn't possibly wear it, but when she tried to remove it, the strained zipper wouldn't function, and her efforts succeeded only in opening up the seam under her other arm, so that her ribcage was exposed on both sides. She was biting her lip and wringing her hands when the bell rang to summon the boys from their games and her from her luncheon period. She steeled herself, back rigid, and taking very small steps lest she rupture the dress farther, walked toward her classroom in her bare feet.
Carolyn was greeted by a chorus of whistles, wolf calls and words as she entered her classroom. As compacted as her figure was, her breasts and bottom jiggled tightly, and she felt more exposed than when she'd been racing naked across the field before the same eyes that were devouring her now. Cheeks flushed but head held high, she made her way to her desk, and felt another inch of seam open up when she lifted her foot in stepping up to her little platform. There was no way in the world she could sit down without her dress bursting like a balloon full of water, and so she picked up her history text and held it open before her placid but red face, and patiently waited for the insults to stop.
"Let's see you touch your toes now, teacher!"
"Man, look at her nipples sticking out, hard as rocks!"
"Let's see you squat down and take a leak, Miss Holm!"
"Hey, how about letting me suck your pussy some more?"
"I'd sure like to paddle her now!"
"What about it? Can I suck your pussy again?"
Eventually even jackals such as those grew weary of bating her, and Carolyn said, "Please open your books to page one-twenty-four while I read to you: The armament at the onset of the Civil War was relatively crude and unrefined. Both the Union and the Confederate troops were equipped with very few rifled weapons, and as a result the accuracy of the balls they fired . . ."
"You fire my balls, teacher!"
"Hey, let me kiss your box! Please!"
". . . left a great deal to be desired. Of necessity, this was quickly corrected and considerable improvements were made on the firearms and artillery used by both sides. Whereas at Fort Sumpter, cannonballs and musket balls were sent off with little hope of striking their targets, by the time of the Battle of the Wilderness the breech-loading. . . ."
"I'd like to load your breeches, baby!"
"She's got an asshole that's tighter than my hand!"
". . . rifle had been issued to the Federal forces and at least twenty percent of the Rebel troops had rifled firearms in their possession when they entered the thick forest for the bloody, week-long battle."
So it went for the afternoon. Carolyn had to stand erect before her demeaningly raucous charges while she read from the text book after text book, scarcely daring to move, growing faint and summoning up energies to go on from she knew not where. Her notion of depriving them the use of the rest room was gone, but only one boy asked to leave the room. When he did, she told him to take the key off the hook on the side of her desk and went on reading. The others, if they had to go at all, just held it, unwilling to ease any part of the burden of all those hot little eyes on her immodestly clad body.
Somehow she got through the afternoon without fainting, helped by the awful knowledge of what they'd do to her if she fell down in a swoon. Somehow she made it without taking that one deep breath that would show them her nipples and her crotch, inflaming them to the point where they'd all jump her at once and she'd have to somehow take ten hard cocks in her body, all at the same time. And somehow she made them all leave after she'd dismissed them, so she could sag against her desk and feel a seam give a bit more and not even care about it. She turned to go, to retreat in dignity, and saw the drawing she'd missed on the blackboard when she'd so distractedly entered the room.
It was her again, shouting, "More! More!", as four penises sprayed water on her smiling face and jutting breasts and outlandishly big buttocks. "Filthy little fucking bastards," she muttered, and carefully got down off her platform and walked with baby steps back to the sweet sanctity of her cabin.
As soon as she'd closed the door behind her she stretched very expansively, and the dress came apart at every seam. She picked off the shreds of it, took it completely off without even opening the zipper, pulled off her ruined lingerie and headed for the shower. She bathed quickly, efficiently, washing away the feeling of all those eyes on her naked flesh, using lots of soap and even more elbow grease until she was clean, clean, clean, and very very tired. She dried off perfunctorily and went yawning to the old chest of drawers that had been issued to her, climbed into a long black nightie that had been a gift from Iris, and got into bed and fell fast asleep.
It was well after dark when Carolyn awakened, hungry but entirely rested. She rose from her bed and turned on every light in the little house, for she knew that light staves off the attack of wild animals in the forest, and city girl that she was, she didn't know what sort of beasts roamed the night in these parts, but she was sure they were out there. She drew down the shades, too, for it certainly would do to have one of the boys seeing her in her nightie and trying to climb through her window.
It was truly a lovely nightie, representative of her friend Iris' good taste. Black, its satin ruffled hem just kissed the floor around Carolyn's bare feet, and it had matching satin ruffles around the plunging bodice of it and down across the very low back. It was sleeveless and it was so thin that it could clearly be seen through, but the night was nice and warm, and Carolyn was entirely comfortable wearing the long nightie, slit up its sides and further ruffled to a point very close to her hip.
Its gossamer folds swept about her as she moved about her little house in search of a bite to eat. She was thinking pleasant thoughts, picturing Iris lounging on the bed, watching her every movement through curling cigar smoke, and showing off a bit for her imaginary guest. There wasn't a bite of food to be found, however, and it was much too late for dinner at the mess hall, and so Carolyn's search was in vain, until she came across a bottle of gin in the bottom of her suitcase. There was no ice to be had of course, but she pretended she was mixing a pitcher of martinis as she poured out four ounces in an old jelly jar, held it out in question to the empty bed, then shrugged and smiled and drank it down. It warmed her further, and the hunger pangs stopped before it had all reached her glowing stomach.
"It's a lovely night, Iris," she said. "Here, I'll pull up the shades, throw open this window, and together we can look up at the stars. It's glorious up here in the mountains. I'm so glad you took me here, my darling. Come put your lovely arms around me and . . .
"Oh, how foolish," she said. "Iris is long gone, a dark dead part of my past, and here I am exiled to live in the middle of a pack of jackals, all because of her. Well, forgive and forget, and above all, make the best of things."
The window was open, the night was warm and clear, so Carolyn stood there and took the deep breathing exercises she'd missed that morning. She filled her healthy young lungs over and over, enjoying the soft kiss of the whispering nylon against her nipples and tummy and buttocks, refusing to think of how her body had been so cruelly abused by her students. She did think about David Sloane, a wonderful man, a mesmerizing man, who did things to her either in her dreams or in reality that she'd never thought she'd permit any man to do. She thought about him and she thought about a more tranquil existence for herself as she turned an about face and began touching her toes before the low-silled window.
She was breathless and glowing and happy when she'd finished her exercises. She let her laughter tinkle out through the night and said, "Who needs dinner? I've got everything I need right here in my snuggly little nest in the forest."
She went to where she'd left the bottle and poured out four more ounces of gin, opened her front door and strolled out onto the little veranda there. "Perfectly glorious night," she said, sipping and leaning out over the rough-hewn railing, "but we need a little music."
Inside was her transistor radio. She brought it out on the porch with her, tuned it to a station that had dance music with a heavy beat, and did a few turns and swirls on her front porch, glass in hand as her partner, humming along with the lively tune. The next tune was livelier still. She set down her glass on the arm of the porch chair, hiked up her nightie to her hips, and rocked on out with the music, throwing back her lovely blonde head and laughing, wholly exhilarated with the night and the gin and the music, not caring at all if there was a pack of bears out there in the darkness.
"Catch me and eat me if you can, you naughty things, you mean old bears," she called out, laughing and turning her back on them and the dimly lighted buildings beyond, hiking her skirts up higher and waggling her panty-model's fanny at them.
Again the music changed, this time to a gutsily romantic tune sung by a deep-throated contralto torch singer, and Carolyn hung on the upright post, hugging it pressing her cheek against it while she gazed up at the moon, as full as her bosom, as round as her bottom.
"Oh, David," she murmured, pushing her soft pube against the hard wood, "your cock's so big tonight, and I need it so bad, so very bad that I . . .
"Oh, crap," she said, and flounced over to the chair, knocked back the rest of the gin, and flopped down in it, legs wide apart and hands dangling over the arms. "I don't need asshole David, I don't need cigar-chewing Iris, I don't need anybody but good old me. Fuck the world, and FUCK EVERY ONE OF YOU BABOONS OUT THERE IN THE BARRACKS WHO TOOK OFF MY CLOTHES AND RAPED ME!"
She settled back feeling much much better, but still not good enough. In strange country, surrounded by terror and confusion, Carolyn set about to escape, at least for a little while.
Up came her nightie. She bunched the diaphanous folds of it in her lap, slouched lower on the cushions of the chair, and began pulling and rubbing at her clitoris. She sat there with her legs far apart, a twisted grin on her face, watching every movement of her fingers by the light that glowed out from her cabin, while she made herself feel good, while she let herself know for sure she was a self-subsistent woman.
"You don't need cocks or tongues or anything, baby, not when you've got these fingers. You're beautiful, you know that? I like you shaved. More to see. You're so damned pretty I can hardly blame them for wanting to stick their cocks and their tongues in you. Old asshole down there, you must be just as pretty, too. Shame I can't see you. I'll go get a mirror in a minute, but first take care of you, baby-doll, oh yessss, oh yes-s-s-s-s.
"Uh, uh, uh, uh! Fuck that finger, baby. Here's two of them, just have a ball. FUCK THEM, DAMNIT, GET YOUR ASS IN GEAR! Oooo-o-o-o-o! Ooo baby, that's it. Jesus, don't you look good when you're fuckin' something, anything, but 'specially these good ol' fingers.
"Fuck those fingers, clitty-poo, jam yourself right in there between 'em. Oh baby, does that ever feel good. Cum-cum-cum! Oh, yes, cum, cum, CUM! Uh! Uh! Oh God, I love it, love sex without pain, without hassle, without anybody but good old me! Uff! Uff! FUCK AND CUM! FUCK AND CUM! OOOO! OOooooooo! OOOooo-o-o-o-o. . . "
She lay back in the chair, panting and exhausted, knowing she'd had enough but unwilling to call it quits. Her tits were there, her lovely tits, rising and falling with her deep breathing, neglected while she'd been trying to please her pussy. She grinned as she slipped her hands inside the bodice of her nightie, squeezed them and pulled the nipples, watching through slitted eyes and pretending they were someone else's hands doing that to her. Whose? David's? Iris's? Spike's? No, not even the thought of him could bring the response Carolyn wanted.
She was getting discouraged, but she'd be damned if she'd quit, not with the night still young and the moon still full, the music still beating and her heart still pumping. But working at her cunt didn't seem to be the answer, either, for her clit lay sleeping, not raising its pretty pink nose even at the most intimate of touches from her fingers.
"I need another ounce or two of gin, that's my problem," she said, and rising from the chair, she smoothed the folds of her nightie down around her pale white body in lady-like fashion and went back inside her house.
It was filled with boys. There must have been at least a dozen of them there, on her bed, in her chairs, standing up, all looking at her and smiling. They were as naked--no more so--than before, for now in addition to their hard pricks staring at her, she could see their grinning faces, for not a one of them had a mask on.
CHAPTER NINE
Carolyn couldn't let out with so much as a yip before a hand was clamped over her mouth from behind by one of them. The two she knew as Rusty and Jimmy came quickly forward to grasp her arms, preventing her from hitting a single one of them, and she was dragged to the center of her room where they all converged on her at once to paw over her body through the ridiculously thin folds of the single garment that so inadequately covered her twisting, writhing body.
"Get that thing off of her," said Ronnie. "Now, she looks really, sexy in it, man," said Sandy.
"We want her naked!" Rusty insisted.
"Well, don't tear it off her!" protested Ken.
They eased it off her shoulders, slithered it down her body, and all she could do was roll her eyes helplessly, searching for aid that would never come. Their hands were all over her. Anyplace they wanted to touch her naked body was available to them, and everyplace they touched they left a warmly glowing mark. Up between her legs the hands went, and all over her quivering breasts and squirming buttocks, all up and down her arms and legs, on her throat and on her face, on her back and inside those two orifices of her body that had already been violated by eight of the boys in the room.
Her legs began to collapse and they had to hold her up, then half carry her to her bed, where they sat her down. The one behind her, Bob, let go of her mouth, and she sat there panting while Earl and Pete held her upright by her arms and Mike and Roy held her knees apart "I want to have me a blow job!" said Rusty. "Me too!" Jim enthused, and both of them jumped at her with their hard pricks at the ready, pushing them against her face, making her twist her head about, lips tightly compressed, blinded by the rubbery soft heads of the pair of pricks trying to get inside her mouth.
"Mmmf! Mmmf! No, don't d...."
The moment her lips parted to shout, they were inside her mouth, both of them, pushing past her lips and teeth, filling her mouth with hard male flesh, making it impossible for her to take a breath. She fought against them, quite helplessly, but was unable to even turn away when her hair was grabbed and her head held. Through eyes brimming with tears she saw the hairy bases of the two things that were trying to choke her, saw the thick white columns that terminated inside her mouth, saw Rusty's little hand frantically pumping at the shaft of his cock, saw his hips contract and heard his moans as he began to ejaculate, right inside her formerly inviolate mouth.
"Man, old Rusty's really getting off a load, and I'm about to make it too."
"Jimmy, don't drown her with it. She's got more than she can handle right now."
"Like heck. The way she's sucking, you'd think she'd never get enough."
The room fell silent, the raucous clamorings died away, and except for the sound of Carolyn's lips and tongue and gullet working, it was as quiet as could be in her little cabin in the mountains. The boys were so amazed that they released her arms, the better to come around and see the beautiful blonde young schoolteacher as she sucked two cocks at once, tears flowing down her lovely cheeks to mix and mingle with the tiny dribble of white that had overflowed from the corner of her distended lips. Her eyes were closed, her face very clear, and she looked like a Madonna as she sucked the two boys off. The moment her hands were free she leaned a bit forward and slowly stroked Jimmy's cockshaft with her left, while with her right she fondled and hefted Rusty's balls, as if to coax a little more juice out of them.
"Man, she looks like she really digs it," said Ken in awed tones.
"I guess she does!" Pete concurred.
"Out of the way, Rusty!" said Jimmy, " 'cause here I goo-o-o-o-o-o-o!"
Rusty obligingly withdrew his cock from the mouth of their seated schoolteacher. She helped him along with a little shove. Now she bent forward more, and her brows knit in concentration as she pushed Jimmy's hand aside and took a firm but delicate grip on the shaft of his cock. Her lips were all thrust forward, encircling him warmly just beneath the knob of his slender white cock, and with lips and tongue and hand urging him on, Jimmy sighed explosively and began to shoot in her mouth, and at once her expression became tranquil again, joyful and clear, as her cheeks worked rhythmically and her slender throat could be seen to contract in the same tempo as the repeated tiltings of Jimmy's hips.
The boys watched in respectful silence while she sucked him completely dry, leaving him sighing softly and grinning like a fool. Her lovely blue eyes were shining when she slipped her lips off his prick, licked them, and looked around at her little circle of students.
She laughed, wiped a droplet of cum from her chin and dabbed it away with her tongue.
"Delicious. Absolutely scrumptious. And it wasn't just because I missed my dinner tonight. Boys, why didn't you tell me how lovely your cum tastes? You know just because I'm your teacher, that doesn't mean I know everything there is to know."
Kenny shrugged and said, "How should we know? None of us have ever tasted it."
Her laughter tinkled. "Of course. How foolish of me. Who's this down here?" she asked, and lifted the little head that had been busily burrowing away between her legs. "Doug, what a help you were to me, darling." She kissed him on the lips. She tucked his head away and said, "Anyone else feel like a nice blow job? I may not be a real expert at it yet, but with your help it won't be long before. . . ."
Another cock was presented to her, and she immediately interrupted herself to take it in hand, lick her plump lips, and cover it with butterfly kisses before licking it lavishly and sucking it inside her lovely warm mouth.
"If she's not an expert now," said its owner, a great lout of a boy named Bob, the same one who'd been her gag when she'd first entered the room a few moments before, "then she sure learns fast. Wow! Oh, wow! I think the top of my head's gonna come off!!!"
He went up on his toes and began twisting like a Dervish, but Carolyn stayed with him all the way, furrowed brows smoothly clarifying as she made the good stuff flow, out through his prick and into her mouth, onto her tongue and down her greedily gulping throat.
"Nice big load," she said, and gave him a kiss on his balls and a pat on his behind before looking around for the next ready cock. There were plenty to be had. Once the ice had been broken, so to speak, all the boys wanted to take a plunge in the bottomless lake of her mouth, a lake that was by no means icy, if the testimony of the first three blowees could be relied upon. Carolyn laughed and played eeny-meeny-miney-moe with the veritable forest of young cocks being thrust at her willing mouth from every side. She teased them along, instinctively knowing they loved it and that it built up a bigger load for her new wonderful appetite, but then through this lovely array of hard young cocks she saw one boy who stood off from the others.
He was a plumpish boy, one who was in Mr. Sloane's classroom, one who stood there with his cute little tummy bulging out, his hands clasped behind his back, his chin on his chest, and his truly handsome pecker sticking right straight out at her. She beckoned him over, and the forest of pricks parted for him.
"And what might your name be?"
"Charles."
"My, this is a lovely prick you've got here. A real, man-sized cock. Would you like your new teacher to suck it off for you? Would you like to give her a load of nice cum?"
He nodded bashfully and said, "I'd sure like to give you my jizz, but I don't really go for blow jobs. What I like is a good, hard screw, Miss Holm."
"Then you shall have it by all means. How very selfish of me to forget about the very best part of sex. Doug, get up from there. Doug, you little imp, get your tongue out of my pussy so Charles can put this perfectly divine cock of his in it, right up to the hilt! Get away from there, Doug. Obey me right now, or you're going to get it in class tomorrow. Just look at him, boys! He acts as if he doesn't even hear me. What a greedy little pussy-hound!"
They finally had to drag him away from Carolyn's admittedly delicious little cunt, whereupon the beaming Charles said, "Thank you, Miss Holm. Would it be asking too much of you if you'd . . . well ... do me another little favor?"
"Anything," she said, fondling that strikingly fat cock of his, kissing it warmly, but being careful not to excite it to a premature ejaculation.
"I like dogs a lot," he said, "but even more than that, even more than anything in the whole wide world!" he said, swinging out his arms to encompass the Earth, "I like your ass! I could sit and look at it all day long, and you'd make me the happiest boy in camp if you'd let me put it in you doggy style, so's I could look down and see your great big beautiful ass while I was fucking you. Is that asking too much, Miss Holm? I promise I'd be good in class if you let me and I'll do all my homework from now on. Honest Injun, cross my heart!"
"You silly," she said, and kissed his ruddy red cockhead a final time, for the moment. "I admire how our friends in the animal world do things too, and I'd just adore getting it from you doggy style. Come along, Charles. Get up on the bed behind me, while I get up on my hands and knees. That is the way to do it, isn't it?"
They all assured her that it was, and Carolyn assumed the position. As young Charles proudly poked at her beautifully exposed twat with his nice, fat cock, she smiled back at him over her shoulder and said, "If you happen to miss in your excitement and hit the other hole a few times, think nothing of it. I won't complain a BIT!"
His entry was superb. Carolyn, in her excitement at the newly discovered joys of cock-sucking, had forgotten all about her hungry twat. Doug's cunnilingus had served only to whet its lusty appetite, but now Charles' cock was giving it the attention it truly deserved. His cock was so nice and fat that it pushed her plump pink cunt lips in along with the cock itself, and this quick and very thorough filling of Carolyn's needy little hole was so poignantly delightful that she began to weep again.
"Take it easy with your damned elephant's cock, Charles!" said Bob. "Christ sake, you're hurtin' her!"
"Not a bit of it!" she said, wiping away her tears of joy and snuffling just a bit, smiling radiantly over her shoulder at the steadily pumping boy whose charmingly bulging tummy rested so comfortably on her upturned bottom. "Charles has a perfectly delightful cock and I'm enjoying it thoroughly. Oh yes! Indeed I am!"
The lovely orgasmic shivers were rippling through her as she worked in conjunction with the boy behind her. He was positively beaming with boyish adoration for her as he knelt there with his hands and his gaze on that beautiful white rump that he so admired, pumping surely and steadily, his cock drawing out her cuntlips to their proper position and working his organ very nicely in the highly sensitive portals of Carolyn's cunt. Though his cock wasn't overly long, its substantial girth gave those portals the nice stretching they needed and simultaneously provided a fine friction that Carolyn could feel pulling and pushing at her clitoris.
"Oh! Oh, perfectly delightful!" she cried, moving smoothly and expertly, not swaying precariously back and forth on her hands and knees but instead snapping and tilting her hips up and down, providing a steady rocking motion of her pelvis which served very well to slide her vagina up and down on the moving cock of the happy boy.
BANG! BANG! BANG! The orgasms she'd felt already that evening were only preludes to these she was experiencing under the steady, faithful pumpings of this fine fat prick. She was feeling absolutely marvelous in every part of her body, and she was aglow with the knowledge that she could go on and on, feeling this exquisite pleasure for hours and hours, getting each and every one of the boys' cocks into her before she was fully satisfied.
"Oh, Miss Holm!" Charles cried, as his fingers tightened in her soft hips. "OH! OH! OH, MISS HOLM!!!"
"Yes! Yes, I'm right here, dear! I'm right with you-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-OOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!"
Their mutual orgasm was of such a cataclysmic force that several of the boys cheered, others applauded, and still more helped Charles, grinning like a Cheshire cat, down from the bed so they could take his place. Carolyn was still seeing stars from the big blast she'd received in her twat when, quite marvelously, another fully loaded and primed prick was shoved into it, permitting her orgasm to take up right where it had been left off.
It didn't matter that this boy's prick wasn't as fat as Charles'. Her lusciously overflowing cunt was as primed and loaded as the cocks were--perhaps even more so--for all it took was the slightest touch to keep her bouncing back and forth in the heavens from one orgasmic skyrocket burst to another, ricocheting about like some fiery ball in a heavenly pin-ball machine of sex and love. Her delights were boundless, nothing could make her present existence any happier--until she felt, then saw a lovely hard cock touching her cheek.
Two at once! What a sheer delight! She sucked it right in, lowering her lashes to her cheeks to shut out all the sensation she could that might be extraneous to the full flowing feelings of sexual joy that were hers, and she sucked with loving and gentle ardor until the meaty sweet cum was spurting and flowing over her cupped tongue and down her throat to further warm her belly and add to the glowing furnace of love that was blasting away in her twat.
She barely had time to lick the last drop of cum from that prick until another was presented to her, this one entering her mouth at precisely the moment another was being replaced in her cunt. She was wild with excitement. Her senses were reeling with this flood of sex pouring over her and into her. But still, through it all, she retained her reasoning powers, and now she used them to control her sweating, orgasming body. She used her instincts too, judging just how close to orgasm each of the. cocks in her were, and adjusting the movements of her hips and the pressures of her mouth accordingly, and the feeling of triumph she knew when each of the two pricks ejaculated their heavy white cum into her at exactly the same moment rivaled the double orgasm she was feeling; her cunt and the animal and her brain were going off in unison, and her heart was joining them in the knowledge of a job well planned and well executed. It was a real pleasure, this triple orgasm, but it was a structured happening, and for far too long Carolyn's life had been structured, by stern parents, by rigidly patterned school curriculum, by demanding educational administrators. She'd had enough of that for now. This was an all out gang-bang, one with no holds barred, no plans, no goals but the utmost of pleasure for everyone involved. Carolyn shut off her think-box and let it happen, let it all hang out.
"Man, look at her tits swing!"
"Look at her ass move!"
"Could I get in there and eat her box a little more?"
Doug was too late in his request, for Rusty and Jim had dived in unison under the swaying body of their kneeling schoolteacher, each to take a nipple in his lips, much in the fashion of Romulus and Remus, to suck and nurse and squeeze with their little hands. Before her Carolyn was sucking another fine cock, under her she was having her tits sucked and fondled in a most delightful and loving way, and behind her she was getting still another fucking.
She didn't know if this one was in her cunt or in her asshole, nor did she care. That whole delightful area of her body, her entire crotch and even her buttocks, had all been made as sensitive as her clitoris by the ambitious and amorous boys. Just the pair of hands on her hips were enough to keep her orgasming harder than ever before she had in her life, but in addition to those hands, she had a cock sliding in and out of her, warm loins bumping up against her ass cheeks, the two mouths on her tits, the cock in her mouth, plus Doug's mouth on her clit, for his determination matched his appetite when it came to eating pussy.
She serviced them all. She took care of each and every one of them, not just once, but several times. Before it ended, she was able to recognize most of them from behind, by the size and vigor of their cocks, by the way they grasped her hips, by the gigglings and bragging they made as they fucked her in cunt, mouth or asshole, by the taste and the quantity of their ejaculations. She emptied out the sex glands of all of them, finishing up just as a lovely, deep langor crept in on her that made her feel deliciously sleepy, more relaxed than she'd ever thought possible.
They tucked her into her bed. They formed an orderly line and kissed her a soft goodnight while she lay there with her eyes closed, her lips pursed, murmuring her farewells for the evening as she did her best to keep at least a part of her senses awake until they'd all paid their respectful homage and departed, leaving her to fall into a deep, deep, peaceful slumber.
"Miss Holm! Carolyn, wake up! Are you all right! Great gadfrey, what in the world happened to you?"
"Hmmmm?"
"You don't have to tell me; they did it again, raped you unmercifully. Oh, the vipers, the filthy swine!"
"Hmmmm? Whooozat?"
"It's Mr. Sloane, darling, it's David!" he said, shaking her, sitting her up. Her head lolled back, the covers slipped down from her softly standing breasts, and she remained limp in his trembling hands. "Great heavens, they've drugged you! But, here, I've brought some medicinal brandy. That'll bring you round, dear, so you can tell me all about it for my report."
By the time he filled the glass she was on her back again, snoring, those luscious orbs uncovered still. Again he sat her up, this time holding the glass to her faintly smiling lips, but the healing liquor could only be made to trickle over her plump pink lips to dribble down her chin and spill onto her breasts.
"You poor kid, you're really out. Still breathing, but I'd better apply mouth-to-mouth resuscitation anyway. Hmmm. Shame to let that brandy go to waste," he said, and lying her back down again, he bent and licked it up, sucked it up, kissed it up from her breasts.
She went on snoring. He shook his head, lowered the covers all the way, and made a close inspection of the body with his hands and eyes, using his lips now and then as a supplement.
"Carolyn," he moaned, "you are absolutely drenched with semen! How many of those animals did it to you this time?"
"Did what?" she asked, only after he'd repeated the question several times and shaken her hard.
"At least your eyes are open. Was it pretty rough on you, darling? Down here?" he asked, as his fingers stole down to her loins and felt all around there.
She feebly pushed his hand away and said, "Mr. Sloane, I don't know what you've come to my room for, but I know you shouldn't be doing that."
He clasped his hands before his pleading face and said, "I've come here because you were being raped again!"
"Me? Raped?" she said, sitting up and pulling the covers up to her neck. "Nonsense. You've been imagining things."
"But I heard your screams, this place is a shambles, and you're covered from head to toe with semen. Good gracious, have they raped you into a state of amnesia?"
"If I screamed," she said, "it was either because I had a nightmare or because you heard the scream of some animal in the forest. If this place isn't as tidy as it should be, may I remind you that it is my cabin, and that there is no clause in my contract pertaining to my housekeeping habits. And as for this drying fluid on my body, it is a night time beauty lotion I use for keeping my skin soft and smooth. And now if you have no more questions, you'll excuse me so I can get a bit of sleep. I have a great deal of material to cover in class tomorrow, and I want to be fully rested so I can do a good j. . . ."
"Carolyn!" he said, and threw his arms about her. "You've taken temporary leave of your senses, but I'll see you through. Here, have a drink. Come, let me help you to the shower. Then we'll come back here and I'll put the nice lotion on your body and make it all-l-l-l-l well again. Okay?"
"Sir, be good enough to leave. I don't want a drink, I don't need a shower, and I prefer the lotion I've already applied."
"Damn you!" he said. "Look at this and tell me what it is you want and need and prefer!"
With that he ripped open his pants and flopped out his penis, an organ of truly noble size, rising high from his tweeds, crested with a heavy red knob, pulsing and throbbing quite visibly.
"There it is, baby," he said with pardonable pride, "and it's all yours. You raised it from the dead, made it stand up again when that damned Martha Wilkes had it scared so bad that it was shrunk down to nothing all the time. You raised it from the dead, you saved it's life, and it's all yours now, to have and to hold, to love and to cherish, now and forever-more."
"What time is it, Mr. Sloane?"
"Huh? About eleven o'clock."
"My school day officially ends at three. It's in my contract. So if you'll excuse me I'll just go back to sleep and be ready to fulfill the terms of my contract again starting at eight o'clock in the morning."
He sat there open-mouthed while she fluffed up her pillow, lay down her lovely head on her hands, and in a few minutes, began to snore in a soft, lady-like fashion. His shoulders sagged. He was crestfallen, but his penis was not. It took him five minutes of cursing and struggling before he could get it back inside his trousers and shorts, and Carolyn was still softly snoring when he went slinking out of her cabin, across the darkened camp ground, and into the little log house that was his.
CHAPTER TEN
Carolyn awoke on time and lay in her bed, stretching and yawning, hugging and fondling herself for a long time. It was going to be another beautiful day in the mountains. The pines had an especially fragrant scent, and the birds were singing songs she'd never heard before. Making a tent of the covers, she looked down at her body and smiled, for even it looked special that day, so special that she had to at last rise and put it to use, flitting about her little house, tidying up, humming as she went.
She took her exercises at the window and spent a long time under the shower, emerging all pink and rosy and clean from the hot water and the scented soap. She was still humming as she brushed out her hair before the mirror, admiring the sheen in its long, silky waves. She applied a generous coat of rich pink lip gloss to her cushiony lips, and as an afterthought she painted a light coating of the same on her nipples, already up to a firm condition, as ready for the new day as Carolyn was herself. She extended and slightly darkened her long lashes with smoky gray make-up and accentuated the rich clear blue of her eyes with a soft, summery green that was tinged with pink. She worked on her eyebrows until she was contented with their girlish lilt, and with the slightly quizzical expression it gave to her stunningly young and lovely face. Not a hint of powder of foundation cream was needed to improve her perfect complexion. With her hair cascading down in soft fluffy curls to frame her sweetly smiling face, she presented the picture of innocence awakened and sweetness personified.
Into her living room she went to select some apparel for another school day. It was really a shame the mischievous boys had taken a scissors to so many of her things, for she had had quite an attractive wardrobe, but there were still a few items left intact, certainly enough to allow her to be totally presentable in class that day.
First she donned a pair of pink pumps with four inch heels. They bunched her calves so cunningly that she had to admire herself for a few moments, looking down past the sweet swell of her beautiful bottom, along the tapered line of her very nubile thigh, to the soft pillow of her calf muscle, just over an ankle so slim as to appear to be fragile.
Before she went any further she returned to the bathroom and applied a liberal but ladylike amount of highly exotic French perfume behind her ears, on her throat, in her armpits, under her breasts in that warm snug crease formed by her mounds and her ribcage, and all around her crotch, before and behind. Smoothing it in there, she noticed the slightest trace of stubble from new sprouts of her silky blonde pubic hair, and she stopped to take the time to lather herself from navel to ankle and carefully whisk away every tiny sprouting hair, leaving her legs as smooth as her breasts, her pussy even smoother, and back to her dressing she went, clacking along on her spiked heels, breasts and buttocks swinging and swaying merrily.
She found a skirt that was just fine, almost. It was bright red, made of some synthetic material that had managed to survive the boys' shrinking process for the most part, but still reduced in size so that it fit her very snugly indeed when she tried it on. It clung rather than squeezed, and while it showed her every curve, it was entirely comfortable against her bare skin. It clung so tightly that she knew very well that the smoothness of it would be ruined by an unsightly panty line, but that presented no problem. Its only fault was that it was far too long. Even the slight shrinking it had taken brought its hem to only six inches above Carolyn's dimpled knees, and so she took it off and patiently re-hemmed it, elevating it another four inches, and then it looked just right when she put it on and smoothed it down with her soft and lovely hands.
She had several sweaters that would go well with the red micro-skirt, but it was such a fine day that she felt it would be a shame to cover up with bulky wool. Most of the cotton blouses that she usually wore to class in the summer had been ruined, but there was one nylon blouse that she thought might do, and so she put it on, tucked in its tails, and went to survey herself critically in the mirror. It was white, with long, billowy sleeves terminating in tight cuffs with three pearl buttons on each of them. It had a high, collared neck with lapels that pointed straight down in arrows that, if extended, would touch the tips of its wearer's breasts. It had a severe, tailored look to it that Carolyn softened by opening a few more of the pearl buttons that ran down the front of it, then a few more until it was open almost to the waistband of her skirt.
She buttoned up one of them and nodded in approval, for she liked the schoolmarmish look of it, from the long sleeves to the patch pockets over each of her breasts. The blouse, she recalled, was one she'd never before worn in public. It had been a gift from that silly, romantically inclined lesbian she'd known at Miss Trowbridge's, and the Lesbian--whatever her name had been--had persuaded Carolyn to wear it only when the two of them were alone, playing childish games with each other. Her reasoning had been that it was very sheer, so sheer that it was quite transparent. It had been made for a woman who liked to show off her brassieres, something Carolyn had done many times while the leering Lesbian had laid on her bed, smoking and drinking and playing with herself.
Now the patch pockets each had a bull's eye of bright pink clearly showing through them, these on each side of the deep curved crack that was in the middle of her chest, unveiled by even the transparent white nylon. She decided that her attire might be a little bold for teaching at many schools, but that she was on such good terms with her students that what she was wearing was perfectly suitable for a day in class. She brushed out her hair again, smiling at the way her breasts bobbed and jiggled, and headed for the mess hall with a healthy appetite.
She was later than usual. The boys were already lined up at the steam table, jostling and joking and shoving, trays in hand, but a ragged cheer went up for Carolyn Holm as she entered and a place was quickly made for her at the head of the line. The shapely but overweight cook was there on the other side of the steam table, and Carolyn greeted her with a cheery, "Good morning."
"You oughta be taken out and shot for wearing somethin' like that in front of these poor boys," said Martha Wilkes, and slung scrambled eggs on Carolyn's tray with such force that a fleck of yellow spattered on her immaculate white blouse.
Carolyn looked at it and clucked in disappointment, and immediately young Rusty and Jim were there with clean handkerchiefs to dab and wipe at the blouse while Carolyn thrust out her chest to help them until not a trace of yellow could be seen.
With the cook grumbling behind her, Carolyn was escorted to the head of the farthest table by half a dozen or more of her eager students, where her tray was piled high with eggs, bacon, and buttered toast. She ate moderately, chatting with her students and those of Mr. Sloane about mundane matters--the weather, the day's lesson plan, the lively activities of the evening before. Her escort swelled to number more than a dozen by the time she finished her breakfast and went strolling off to class.
Carolyn's classroom was packed. The boys were sitting two to a desk, all freshly combed and scrubbed, all beaming at her expectantly as she sat at her desk with her chest out-thrust and her legs comfortably parted. She bade them a cheery good morning which was just as cheerily returned, opened her math book, and was just about to speak when the day's first interruption came: "Let's all cut class and fuck the teacher!"
"I'd rather eat her!!!"
She closed the book and regarded them with a baleful eye. She said, "That will be the last interruption I will tolerate in this classroom. There is a time for fucking and a time for learning, and the latter time is now upon us. And now if we may begin, I'd like some of you to work some problems on the board, to see what we've learned in the past few. . . ."
"Pssst!" The door opened a crack and Mr. Sloane's eye peered through it. He beckoned urgently, and she excused herself and stepped down from the platform and went out into the hall, followed by several whistles, which she chose to ignore.
He stood there in a slight crouch, hands clasped before him, and said, "I don't know if I'll be able to teach class today. I'm, er, a little indisposed. Do you think you could handle my students as well as yours, Carolyn?"
She patted her hair while he breathed a heavy sigh, gaze dropping down to her bosom, Adam's apple working visibly, and she said, "I don't see a reason in the world why I can't take care of every one of them, Mr. Sloane. I hope it's nothing serious bothering you."
"It's pretty serious, but. . . It's a hard problem, but perhaps between the two of us we can find a soft solution for it at luncheon break. I have some lobsters and a bottle of wine in my cabin."
"Tsk. I've already promised the boys I'd take them on a little nature study walk during lunch."
"How about dinner? Please, Carolyn. Please, Miss Holm."
"I'll look forward to it," she said, and slipped the tip of her tongue between his lips as she kissed him in parting.
He groaned and walked off holding his groin, and Carolyn returned to her desk, with every one of the boys lowering his head to his desk as she sat down and daintily parted her lovely, shaven bare legs.
She opened her book again, and again she was just about to speak when a voice cried out, "Let me kiss your box!"
Her right breast quivered angrily as her arm shot out and her finger pointed to her class. "I warned you!" she said. "Douglas, get up here and take your punishment."
He sauntered up the aisle grinning at his contemporaries, unbuckling his jeans, until Carolyn said. "There'll be no need for you to take down your trousers, Doug. I won't be using the paddle on any of you any more. Your punishment for that outburst will be to sit under my desk from now until noon, or until someone else offends badly enough to take your place."
They all started screaming at once. Pandemonium broke loose, and the air was filled with obscene and amorous suggestions, all of which Carolyn chose to ignore, while the grinning Doug dove down underneath her desk. He was met there with a finger pointing between his eyes, separating him from the luscious little shaven box that was the object of all his desires.
Carolyn said, "Turn around and face the class during your punishment period, Douglas."
Immediately the classroom became quiet, save for a few surreptitious giggles when the dejected expression on Doug's face could be seen. He sat cross-legged, miserable, while the others glared at him and silently motioned for him to move his head out of the way, and Miss Holm began to teach.
"I'd like a volunteer to go to the board and multiply eight thousand four hundred sixty seven by seven-eights. No one can do it? I see no hands raised, class. Come, come, don't you want to earn a nice grade, boys?" she asked, slipping her hand within her blouse and softly, slowly adjusting her left breast.
By the time she'd removed her hand every boy in the room had his hand up. She selected Rusty, and the boy's eagerness was apparent by the nice bulge in his pants as he went to the board, labored hard with the chalk, then smiled at her in question.
"That is correct," she said beckoning him closer, close enough so that she could slip his hand within her blouse and thus keep it occupied while she unzipped his trousers, took out his cunning little erection, and used her hands and her lips on it so adroitly that he was weaving his way back down the aisle in less than two minutes.
She licked her lips and asked for another volunteer for a difficult division problem, and again she had a whole array of hands from which to choose.
Even Doug's hand was waving in front of her desk, but she said, "Charles, your turn at the board."
He strutted up there, hitched up his trousers, and attacked the problem with determined concentration. She watched, her lovely bosom rising and falling with her sighs, her gaze directed at his loins, and when he was finished she checked her answer book and said, "That's correct! Goodie goodie for you, Charles! Come closer, dear, for your reward."
He said, "Should we do it on the floor or on the desk, Miss Holm?"
Her blue eyes blinked wide. "The floor is perfectly adequate for the kind of kisses you're going to get, dear."
He shifted his feet uncomfortably and said, "I just don't go for bj.s, Miss Holm. Can't we screw? Dog style?"
"I'm sorry," she said, her countenance growing serene and her back straightening. "It would be too distracting for the rest of the class and it would take up too much time. But here," she said, and scribbled a few words on a piece of scratch paper. "Take this note, and when you get two more like it, they'll earn you a half hour in my cabin . . . alone with me."
"Can I do another problem now?"
"Sorry, we've all got to learn something, Charles, I've got to spread it around."
So it went for the morning, and by a quarter hour before lunch, Carolyn had passed out seven chits, given thirteen blow jobs, and had turned eight of her students back to their seats with her high hopes they'd do better at their attempt to demonstrate what they'd learned. She looked at the clock and said, "We have time for one more question before the bell rings. The subject is European history and the question is this: Napoleon Bonaparte was the leader of what European country. Bob, do you know the answer?"
The big, powerful boy lumbered to his feet, grinning bashfully, and said, "France."
She said, "Sorry, Bob. Bonaparte was the emperor of England."
He frowned and looked around, the other students murmured their confusion, and Carolyn quickly said, "Oh, how stupid of me. Of course your answer was correct, Bob, and it was I who was mistaken. Tsk. I certainly deserve a punishment for that. Come to the head of the class, please."
He did as he was told, scratching his head, then frowning when she rose and handed him the paddle. "Three good swift ones," she said, "to teach me not to make mistakes, and then we'll break for lunch."
She turned her back to him, planted her high heels solidly a foot apart, and bunched up her skirt until it was gathered around her slender waist. Her large, impertinently rounded backside jiggled plumply as she bent at the waist, smiling winningly at her students. Grasping her slender ankles, her lovely blonde hair spilling down round her slightly flushed face, she said, "Begin, Bob. Nice swift ones!"
They murmured in a disquieting fashion, but Bob swung the paddle, slap, slap, slap. Carolyn remained where she was, face reddening slightly more, and sharply said, "Would you like to spend the afternoon where Doug is sitting.
W-W-W-WHACK!!! POW!! KER-SPLAT!! Carolyn's knees buckled and her heels clicked on the hardwood as she regained her balance, rubbing her glowing bottom with both hands and whistling soft and low. "Ouch!" she said, as she lowered her skirt, "Bob, you gave me such good ones that I'll not be able to wear this for at least an hour. Off it comes. Well, may as well take off my top too, and get a little sun. Anyone care to join me for a walk in the woods?" she asked, and high-heeled it toward the door, with a score of hastily stripping boys behind her, following that big red beacon of her behind.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
David Sloane's eyes were sunken and haggard, but he opened them wide when he saw the vision of loveliness who'd knocked at his cabin door. Carolyn stood smiling languidly at him, hair piled high on her head in a torrent of golden curls, the better to show off her creamy white shoulders and not distract a bit from her very artfully made-up face. She was wearing a long evening gown of deep green crushed velvet. It had a deeply plunging neckline which left no room at all for a brassiere to contain her perfectly upstanding, pointed breasts, and its back plunged down so low that an inch or two of the cleavage of her derriere was exposed. The gown was supported by a band of green velvet that went round the back of her neck, and rhinestone earrings dazzled from her little pink ears. The gown fit smoothly about her long, slender, narrow waist, swelled nicely with the sweeping contours of her hips, and was split up the middle panel to put on display a shapely leg all agleam in midnight green nylon hose, and the spike heeled green pumps that lifted her to the same height or an inch or two higher than her principal.
"Come in, Carolyn! Oh, do come in!" he said, sweeping wide the door, gesturing to her, then laying a hand on her arm.
"Sorry I'm late. I was umpiring a baseball game for the boys. My class beat yours, eleven to eight, and we're going to celebrate the victory with a little picnic in the woods on Saturday."
"My god, you're stunning, absolutely stunning," he said, staggering backward, awed, and making no attempt to conceal the outlandishly big bulge in his trousers. "I haven't seen anything like that in my life, not even on television !"
"A friend bought it for me," she said, spinning gracefully about to show him its lines, "but it's the first time I've worn it out to dinner."
"God! Stunning! I'm amazed every baboon in camp isn't on your heels."
"Ah, they're all hard at it in their barracks."
"I can imagine what it is they're at," he muttered, scratching irritably at his bulging trousers.
"Something smells good," she said. "Is dinner ready? I'm famished, and I've got some special study sessions scheduled with some of the boys this evening."
"I thought we'd have a few drinks first," he said, moving closer, cupping her breast and giving it a fond squeeze.
"I've quit drinking. Not even medicinal brandy," she said with a little laugh, as she gracefully spun away from him, in time to the music playing on his quadraphonic sound system. "I fear it's bad for one's stamina."
"But good for the old inhibitions," he said, waggling his eyebrows and bending in a courtly fashion to place a warm kiss at the base of her spine.
"What are those?" she asked, laughing gaily, and giving his trouser bulge a squeeze that made him roll his eyes back and gasp.
He threw his arms about her and said, "Carolyn, be mine! Woman, I've got to have you!"
"David!" she said, and pushed him away. "I didn't come here to wrestle, I came here to help you with your . . . indisposition, if I can."
"Oh, I'm sure you can," he said, rubbing it against her leg, panting a bit.
"We'll talk about it over dinner."
"Woman, I'm ready to m-m-m-marry you! I want you for my wife. Carolyn, I'll take you out of here. I have connections with the school board. I can see to it that we get good jobs in the city, at rich schools with high pay! All you have to do is say yes. Please!"
She placed a finger on the tip of his nose and said, "I say no. David, we hardly know each other. And besides, I have work to do here."
"I can make you happy," he said, and grabbed her hand and placed it firmly on his cock. "Hell, I have made you happy."
"And now," she said, squeezing softly, "you want me to make you happy. I will, perhaps, someday, but not tonight. Tonight I'm simply not in the mood. Can we eat dinner now?"
"No!" he said, stamping his foot, trying to get her hand back on his cock, and failing that, grabbing her strongly with a cupped hand between her legs.
"David, you're hurting me."
"I'll make it well later, after we've talked."
"About your indisposition?"
"No, about our marriage! About you and me f-f-f-fucking, damnit." He let her go and fell to his knees. "Carolyn, don't you understand? I wasn't a whole man before you came here. I was ... I was totally impotent. Oh, I was as normal as the next guy when I took this job, thinking it would do me good to sign up for a year of teaching under cultivated boys in the mountains, living a spartan life, maybe slipping into town for a quick lay now and then. But I didn't reckon with Martha Wilkes."
"Has she got something to do with your indisposition?"
"No! You do! But she . . . Oh, it's so hard to explain, so hard to talk about."
"Come sit on the couch with me, have a drink, relax, and then we'll talk about it. I'm a good listener."
He made himself a giant Manhattan, but though he took his time about measuring the ingredients, the bulge in his trousers didn't diminish by so much as a millimeter. He sat down beside her, gulped half of it down, placed his hand on her thigh, and said, "I was a normal school principal when I came here, a bachelor, getting my share of nookie from my teachers, from a student's mother now and then, from some floozie in a bar here and there, getting my share of good and bad, but having to work for it every time. As it should be," he said, and she shrugged.
"Then I came to The Pines, Martha Wilkes laid eyes on me, and life became hell. Call it love, call it lust, call it whatever you will, but she was after me the moment she saw me. Baking me pies, broiling me steaks, sending me little notes, offering to do my sewing and mending. Carolyn, she even sent me a bouquet of flowers one time!"
"So? Most men like flowers."
"A dozen long-stemmed American Beauty roses, with a note that said, Roses are red, violets are blue, let's you and me screw? Hell, it doesn't even have any meter!"
"Yes, but it rhymes."
"The point is she was pursuing me, and I'm not used to being pursued."
"David, she's not a bad-looking woman. Quite attractive in fact."
"I know that, and if she had only left me alone when I first came here, I'd probably have been banging her till you came here. Hell, I might even have married her. As it was, I found it a little exciting to be pursued by an aggressive woman at first, at first I even let her catch me a few times, but each time we were halfway into bed, my . . . my. . . ."
"Your cock got soft?"
"Exactly! And now ..." He shrugged and his face took on a most pathetic expression. ". . . now I can't get it up at all."
"What's this?" she asked with a squeeze of his bulge. "A kosher dill?"
He held her hand there and said, "No, that's all me, darling! It was soft before you got here, soft for a time after your arrival, but it got as hard and big as this that first time I . . ." He gave her a bashful grin. "You know."
"David," Carolyn said, "you're going to have to get over this. I don't love you--and I do have the boys, you know."
"I don't want to hear about that!" he interrupted, and jumped to his feet. He began to rip off his clothes, saying loudly, "You can do anything you want to with them or anybody until I win your complete love, and I guarantee I'll do it with this!" he said, and shucked off the last of his clothing to put on display a cock of truly manly proportions, at least ten inches of heavy, hard, gnarled meat that sprouted forth from a thick tangle of hair, adorned below with a pair of balls that would do justice to a prize ram. He stroked it fondly, a foot from her blinking eyes, and said, "I call it my punishment bar, and with this, my dear, I'll punish you into loving me in no t...."
A loud knock sounded at the door, immediately followed by the loudly shouting voice of Martha Wilkes. "Let me in there, David Sloane! I know you've got that whore from hell in there, and I'm here to beat her brains out with this paddle! Let me in!!!"
"She means it! She can do it!" he said. "What'll we do?"
Carolyn looked quickly around. "You delay her, I'll slip out the back door. She'll cool off by morning."
"Me? How can I delay her?"
"With your punishment bar, darling," she said, and gave it a warm kiss, sucked it in her mouth for a moment, nestled it in the velvety hollow of her throat, and drew its heavy length down until it was snuggled Intimately between her lush young breasts. He was grinning and sighing when she glided out through the kitchen door, left it open a crack, and stood quietly watching.
Still smiling and sighing, David opened the front door and Martha started to barge in, paddle at the ready, bosomy body clad in her sweat-stained kitchen uniform. "Where is she? I'll k . . . David!" she said, and dropped the paddle to grab his standing cock, throw her arm about his neck, and draw him down into a lusty, full-blown kiss. Even as Carolyn watched, David's cock sagged, wilted, and went limp in Martha's smoothly working hand.
The camp cook backed out of the kiss, shoulders sagging, and looked down at the useless thing in her hand. "I knew it was too good to last. What if I tried to blow it up?"
"Martha, no. It just won't work. We've been through all this before."
She smiled bravely and said, "Well, you can't blame a gal for tryin', 'specially when she's got her heart's desire bare-assed. Do you always open the door that way?"
"I, er, I was distracted, doing some deep thinking."
"You had that fucking no-good Holm woman in here, that's what you had. Where is she?" she asked, and stooped to pick up the paddle.
He somehow stopped her and half wrestled her over to the couch, saying, "Easy, Martha. Let's be cool. Sit down and tell me your grievance, and I'll see if we can work something out, whatever it is that's wrong."
She sat down heavily, suddenly looking pouting sad, and said, "The whole camp's going to hell in a hand basket ever since she's got here. All the boys slipped out of the barracks last night. Not a one of 'em came to visit me, and when I went lookin' for 'em, their little bunks was empty. I figured they were playin' another little prank on that blonde hussy, some other thing that'd make her see she couldn't make it here and pack it up and head on down the road, so I just went to bed and forgot about it, but this morning she comes troopin' in to the mess hall dressed like a Memphis whore, disruptin' my good breakfast and walkin' out with ever' damned one of my boys, leavin' me to do the dishes all by myself!"
"We'll get you an automatic dishwasher. We have the funds for it."
"I want my helpers, not some damned machine. David, I want you!"
He untwined her arms from about his neck and said, "Go on."
"Well, lunch was next, and none of the boys showed up for that. They was all out in the woods, fuckin' blue blazes out o' that whore!"
"You don't know that for a fact, Martha."
"I do so! Doug told me."
"Hearsay. What other grievances do you have?"
"I had to call 'em ten times for dinner. They was out playin' baseball, and there she was, right behind home plate callin' balls and strikes and passin' out kisses for home runs, and not a stitch on her!"
"Athletics are as important as academic studies, Martha."
The bulky woman began to weep, and though he tried to comfort her, her wails increased. "And now," she blubbered, "now when the boys and me should be workin' in the kitchen, I'm all alone in there, all alone!"
"Really? And where are the boys?"
"In their barracks," she wailed, "Doin' homework! Oh, boo-hoo-hoo. Ohh-h-h-boo-hoo-hoo."
He was comforting her, patting her, telling her the importance of independent study, when the kitchen door opened and there was Carolyn. She was smiling in a sultry fashion as Martha looked up, her blubbering slowing as Carolyn leaned against the door jam with one arm and with her other hand reached behind her neck to pluck at the snaps that fastened the gown she had on. Martha's sobs stopped entirely as the green velvet went rustling down to make a puddle round Carolyn's heels, revealing her luscious breasts all naked and thrusting, capped with pink tips that shone and pursed as beautifully as did her lips.
A low growl sounded in Martha's throat as Carolyn reached back again, loosed a pin, and shook out her long blonde hair in a waterfall of gleaming curls that surrounded her invitingly smiling face.
"I'll kill her," said Martha, and went for the paddle. She raised it high over her head, edge pointing downward, and was on the verge of bringing it smashing down on Carolyn's skull when the stately, voluptuous blonde pointed a long finger at the couch.
"Look," she said, and Martha's head turned, her eyes widened, for there was David Sloane, his hand circling his stiff-standing cock, gazing at Carolyn with a rapt expression on his face.
"Oh baby, oh boy!" said Martha, and the paddle went clattering to the floor.
"Shh," Carolyn suggested, "Just take off your clothes and take advantage of the situation while you can, dear."
Martha tore her uniform in removing it and she muttered curses while fumbling with the hooks of her bra. Carolyn finally had to help her with this, smiling at the man on the couch with both his hands gripping his turgid cock, while Martha stripped off her panties with no assistance.
Martha really did have a lovely body, Carolyn decided, as the camp cook tiptoed toward the transfixed man on the couch. It was a big body, olive skinned, and while all of its components were of considerable size, the sum of the parts made up for a whole that was truly a magnificent specimen of womanhood. Carolyn altered her opinion about Martha's being overweight. From the way she moved, the bulk consisted of soft muscles, with not a bit of fat.
Carolyn approached the couch just behind Martha, remaining in clear view of David at all times. "Just lie down quietly, Martha," she said, "with your lovely warm legs across David's lap."
The cook did as she was told, lovelight gleaming in the eyes that never left David's standing cock. Lustlight was gleaming in David's eyes as he gazed up at Carolyn, moving sinuously to the music, fondling her naked breasts and smiling down on him.
"Do me a favor, David?"
"Anything. Anything, Carolyn."
"Turn around and roll over and lie down. And keep watching me, darling, keep your warm, beautiful eyes on my hot, beautiful body."
"Oh, that'll be easy," he said, and Martha used her hands lightly but eagerly to position him on top of the soft cushion of her body.
"Raise your hips a bit, David," said Carolyn, and as he did, she murmured to Martha, "Are you wet? Are you ready?"
"I'm sopped!" she said, and giggled, and the spell was broken with David, he turned and looked at the woman under him and the expression on his face changed from one of radiant longing to one of crestfallen disappointment.
He began to move away from her, but she moved faster, grasping his cock before it could wilt, pulling it, then shouting triumphantly, "I got it in! It ain't all the way hard, but it's in!"
"Let's see if we can stiffen it up," said Carolyn. "David. Oh, David. See what I've got?"
She hooked her thumbs in the elastic waistband of her black satin bikini panties, and all it took was a wiggle of her hips to bring that smile back to his face. As she worked them down, he began to move, urged on by the movement of the hips under him and the hands that clutched at his buttocks. By the time the lovely clefted Y of Carolyn's loins could be seen, David was pumping hard and Martha's breathless smile was telling the world that she was at last getting what she'd wanted for so very long.
Carolyn stood there, swaying to the music, rolling her panties down her thighs, below her knees, her calves, finally stepping out of them, and still David pumped steadily, grinning broadly, sweating but never slowing. She danced for him and fondled her breasts, spread her legs and slipped a finger in her slit to put on a splendid show of the lusting female busy at masturbation, and still he pumped on, on and on, much to Martha's pure delight, but quite frustrating to Carolyn. She showed him her fanny, and the little mouth there that he'd so admired, and she was sweating a bit herself by then, but still he pumped, slower now, but still making Martha croon with delight. Slower and slower he went, visibly tiring, until at last he hung his head in weariness and spoke to Martha.
"It's no use. Can't cum, can't do it."
"Poor baby," she said, and tears spurted.
"Carolyn, we've gotta help him. Hell, you screw him. I can't stand to see him so deprived."
Carolyn firmly shook her head. "I'm committed elsewhere. David, listen to me. You can cum, I know you can now that you've overcome your inability to get a stiffie."
"Fraid not," he said, shaking his head grimly, "unless it's with you, dear."
"Have you tried masturbation?"
"What? What do you mean?"
"You know, jerking off, jacking off, beating off, whatever you call it, masturbation." He blushed and said, "Oh, I'd never do that" Both women shook their heads and exchanged a sympathetic look. Carolyn looked around the room, close to despair, but then her eyes brightened and she began to move again, more sinuously than ever, doing a solitary dance in her high heels and nothing else that was so sensuous, so moving, that even Martha couldn't take her eyes off the statuesque blonde with the very mobile body and strikingly beautiful face.
David began to move again, and Martha smiled and hugged him, but still neither of them missed a movement of Carolyn's dance. They saw her and they didn't see her. They saw her form, but they didn't see what she was doing, not even when she straightened up from a crouch with the paddle in her hands and danced closer still to the couch.
WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!
The paddle's sound was awfully loud in the cabin, and it made David Sloane move his hips awfully hard under its rain of heavy blows.
SPLAT! WHACK! SWAT!
He was plunging ahead like a fury, trying to back off, only to meet another swinging slap from the paddle in Carolyn's hands.
SWAT! POW! SMACK!
Martha was screaming and David was shouting, and both were plunging and bucking like things gone mad on the rocking, swaying couch, and still Carolyn swung the paddle, looking for that final blow that would make everything all right, and when it came, she dropped the paddle and jumped for joy, reveling in the jubilant orgasmic cries emanating from the couch.
"THIS IS IT! THE BIG ONE!" Martha shrieked.
"CUMMING!" David cried exultantly. "CUMMING, AND I LOVE IT!"
"WHOOPEE! YIPPEE! OH! OH! OH!"
"YOW! URRRRRRGGGH! LOVE IT, JUST LOVE IT!!!"
"LOVE YOU, DAVID SLOANE! I . . . LOVE . . . YOOOUUUU!"
"YES, MARTHA, YES!!! AND I . . . URRRGGGH . . . LOVE . . . NNNNGGGG . . . YOU!!!"
"I'll leave your children alone," Carolyn softly said, as she demurely eased herself out of the cabin, "for I have children of my own to tend to, with little problems of their own, problems that only I can properly see to."
