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   Teacher Passes the Test, Part 6 of 10, Spare the Rod and Spoil the
Teacher.

   Written by Shakespeare_I._Aint



   I was too busy, way too busy, to go and hit the Van Horn's on the
week-end.  Or one of the weekdays of the following week for that matter.  I
can only say I had more important things; more exciting business to take
care of.  Sure, I beat off every night thinking of my pretty little teacher
and the things I had made her do.  Who wouldn't?  And I know how ridiculous
it is to beat off when the real thing is hiding only two miles away.  I'm
kind of embarrassed to admit that the thought of turning that Van Horn
money into some Damien North money was more interesting than shooting semen
into an unwilling little pussy.

   Don't question it.  If you knew how I think, you wouldn't question it.

   I'm not hung up on money.  I never have been.  I never had much, and I
never needed much.  No Nike shoes, no whizbang computer, not even a
mountain bike.  Just give me clean clothes, a library, a park with a nice
bench, a bus pass and a knotty problem every now and then, and I would be
just fine.

   I wanted to create money.  Out of one loaf, two.  And deep down, I knew
what I wanted to do with my loaf.

   So, I'll only say I was maneuvering some new hardcore acquaintances into
a cocaine deal in another part of the Metro Detroit area and it took all my
time, and a lot of the Van Horn money.  Hell, I had to rent a car and a
seedy motel room and I was only fifteen.  Things like that aren't easy. 
They take time and effort.  So much effort that when I finally cleared a
block of time in the window of my mind to think about a certain little
teacher's huge-nippled titties, it was ten days later.

   It was the early part of November, on a Friday night about seven in the
evening when I crept onto the Van Horn's property.  I surveilled the home
for a half an hour.  I learned that other people really do live their lives
when I'm away.  I would have lost a bet on that one.

   My Van Horns were talking.  To each other.  In the same room.  I saw
them laughing.  And watching Wheel of Fortune.  That wasn't right.  And
since I couldn't read lips, I knocked on the front door.

   Edwin Van Horn answered, his face still wreathed in merriment that
didn't vanish upon seeing me.  This was a mystery, Shaggy.

   "Ah, Damien.  Come in, come in.  We were expecting you."

   "How's that?  I didn't even know I was coming here."

   "You weren't here the last nine nights, tonight had to be the night."

   "Is that some Zen thinking, Ed?"

   He chuckled and led me through the home to the warm family room where my
pretty little teacher sat demurely in her rocking chair, sipping her white
wine.  She smiled comfortably at me, saying nothing.  The room smelled of
sweet marijuana.  I took off my jacket and flopped down onto the sofa,
suspicious and antsy all of the sudden.  Something was wrong.  These two
people were getting along and I didn't know why.  And I was too damn tired
to figure it out.  But instead of staying one step ahead, I had fallen one
step behind.

   "Want a beer?", Ed called from the kitchen.

   "Yes, please." Please?

   Edwin Van Horn brought me a beer and sat down in a recliner next to his
wife.  He loaded the Marley pipe, sparked it up, and passed it to me.  I
inhaled and passed to Cynthia, who took it from me in a beautifully dreamy
way.

   "So where have you been, Damien?"

   "Ed...I've been busy.  Mighty busy."

   "Is that so?"

   "Yes, Ed, that is so." These people were in no hurry to sell me a vowel.


   And so we sat in quiet, smoking our dope, drinking our intoxicants.  I
waited.  Finally.  From an unexpected quarter.

   "Damien?" My teacher's lovely voice.

   I turned to her.  She was staring straight at me.

   "Damien?  How much longer does this go on?"

   "Three or four weeks, I guess.  I don't know.  Why?"

   "Oh, no reason.  Edwin and I were just talking, is all."

   It seemed no one was giving anyone any information tonight.  But I
didn't feel up to mental jousting.  Hell, I hadn't been close to solving
the puzzles I'd seen on Wheel on Fortune since I'd sat down.  Time to get
direct and see what up-front honesty was worth.

   "No, Cindy.  Tell me why do you want to know."

   "Well, it's just that this...  'situation'...  has been going on for
over a month now...  and we we're just wondering...  how does it end?"

   I moseyed on out to get a new beer, grasping for the thinking behind
their question.  Nothing found.  I reseated myself and answered.

   "I honestly don't know how or when it ends, Cindy.  It just ends in
three or four weeks.  Probably not with a bang, but with a whimper.  You
get everything back that I took.  I move on.  I gave you that promise more
than once."

   Edwin spoke up, his voice reassuring me.

   "We know you gave us your promise, Damien.  Do you keep promises?  Or
will you just lead us on?"

   I pondered that, wondering idly if I should get angry or not.  Nope. 
Not really in the mood.

   "I'll just say this.  Believe me.  My word is my bond.  Nothing means
more to me than the promises I make to myself and others.  That comes of a
lifetime of having promises broken in my face regularly.  It gives the
promises I make special meaning.  I said two months and all your stuff
back. That was a promise."

   "Damien, please," Edwin said quietly.  "We just have to know.  Because
we've been doing a lot of talking.  Cynthia and I.  About our relationship.
So you can see how the timing fits in, right?"

   Is there life after Damien North?  Eight group and foster homes, two
juvenile homes, and ten elementary and secondary schools would have the
answer to that question.  Anyway, the doors of perception were open.

   "You and Cindy are going to stay together?"

   Edwin Van Horn, short, heavy, twice-beaten guidance counselor, wouldn't
even look at me.  Cindy answered.

   "We're still talking, Damien.  But I think we will.  Your intrusion into
our lives finally brought us to the negotiating table.  We've been getting
along for the last three days.  Talking.  Making love.  It hasn't been like
this for a long time."

   I felt my hold over them weaken significantly.  They were together. 
They presented a unified front.  Edwin went for fresh beers.  I packed a
pipe and lit up.  Cindy regarded me openly, her eyes traveling down my
body. For the first time, she didn't seem to fear or loathe me.  How odd.
Edwin returned and we sat in silence, each lost in our own thoughts.  I was
wondering how I could retain control over these two.  Lacking a plan of
action for the moment, I probed the defenses.

   "Cindy, how did you like our liaison in the janitor's closet?"

   Her face flushed and she glanced at Edwin.

   "I didn't appreciate it at all.  You could have got us caught," she said
evenly.

   "Yeah, but how about tossing my salad?  And me pissing in your hair?"

   "I didn't like you pissing on me, you know that."

   "What about the other things we've done in the past month?  Anything
stand out in your memory?"

   "What do you mean, Damien?"

   "Did you have some good times?  Especially because you were being
forced? Did you get some good orgasms?  Enjoy some things you've never done
before?"

   Edwin spoke.  "Damien, one of the things we've talked about is the
influence you have had.  Before you came, Cindy had assumed...  control...
over our relationship.  And we both suffered.  Now you've got the control,
and we are free to just feel.  And now we feel things together."

   It was time for the test.

   "So, when we strap little Cindy into the cross tonight, you'll feel her
pain too Edwin?  Is that what you're saying?"

   Cindy paled.  Edwin gulped his beer furiously.  Crunch time.  And I knew
they had talked about this.

   "You want to use that thing in the basement?", my Cindy asked quietly,
her eyes searching my face.

   "Oh Yeah.  In a big way," I answered putting a little enthusiasm into my
voice.

   "What do you want to do, Damien?" she almost whispered, her eyes
frightened.

   "We--Edwin and I--are going to whip your tits.  And then your ass," I
amended.

   Cindy stared at me openmouthed.  Edwin cleared his throat uncomfortably.
I waited.

   "Damien, is that what you really want to do?", Edwin's voice cracked
with emotion at the thought of his wife's fate.

   "Tonight, it is.  I've been thinking about it for awhile now."

   "Why, Damien, why?", my little school teacher was begging.

   "Those magnificent breasts.  They are made for attention, Cindy.  You
know that.  This is just a different kind of attention.  Tonight, we'll
work out some of our angst on them.  Even you have to appreciate how
special they are.  How your life has been dictated by possession such
wonderments on your chest?  Even you must be tired of the attention they
bring.  They are why I came in the first place.  Shouldn't they be punished
Cindy?  A little whipping while we play with your pussy?"

   Cindy was a little high or I believe she would have balked.  Marijuana
makes you too mellow.  She was halfway talked in and showed only token
resistance to something that should have sent her screaming out of the
room.

   "But it will hurt."

   I answered smoothly, but firmly.  "I'll bet.  But think of the fun Edwin
and I will have.  Let us take a shot at those hooters, Cindy.  Please? 
Edwin wants to play.  You want to play, don't you Edwin?  Answer us."

   Our heads swiveled to Edwin Van Horn, who stared fixedly down, refusing
to look at us.

   "Ask him Cindy.  Ask him if he wants to put you on the cross and whip
you."

   Silence.  Then:

   "Edwin?"

   Edwin's face took on a tortured look.  He slowly raised his face to
hers, his eyes closing.  He couldn't look his pretty little schoolteacher
wife in the face.

   "Edwin?  Is that what you want to do?  Put me on the cross?  Whip me?"

   Cindy's voice clarion clear in pain of wonderment.  Exquisite.

   Our Edwin was hung motionless and silent; a guilty dog if ever there was
one.  Wanting to whip his wife's poor breasts and ass in the company of,
and at the direction of, a fifteen year old boy.  But afraid to admit it.

   "The lady asked you a question, Edwin.  Answer her," I prodded gently.

   At the brink of hopeless despair, our man came through.  Accepted the
inevitable fact of the matter.  Accepted consequence for his actions. 
Nodded his head several times.  No mistaking that.  Cindy relaxed back into
her chair.  Thinking.  And made her small decision.  As if there had been
one to make.

   "okay." Her voice small.

   Time to spring into action.

   "Edwin, we'll need you to turn up the furnace.  It'll get cold in the
basement.  We need the whip, the lotion, and some blankets.  A towel.  Come
down naked.  And get fresh beers and more wine for Cindy."

   I waited until he padded away to do my bidding.  I turned on my little
schoolteacher who was rocking gently while she studied me.  I held my hand
out to her.  A true gentleman.  Care to dance?  She took it after a moment,
and I helped her gently to her feet, in my arms; her undeniable teats
pressing against my chest.  Her pretty face pulled back to look up at me.
Such a serious little face.

   "You know you are forcing me, right?"

   "We are forcing you." A small but important point.

   "But you guys are making me do this, right?"

   "What's the difference, Cindy?"

   "It's just....  that I'm not...  volunteering...  understand?"

   "Understood." Oh yeah.  I understand perfectly.

   "So, if...  you know....  anything happens...."

   "Cindy." I put my hands under her heavy fleece sweatshirt, grasping
those brassiered great white tits.  "My goal, the point of the exercise, is
to make you do things you don't want to do.  Exclusively for my benefit. 
And to make your husband help me.  But if we can make you cum, while I'm
punishing those bad old titties well damn, that would be something wouldn't
it?"

   "Yeah, but you understand right?  That it would be like an orgasm I
wouldn't have normally.  So it's not my fault.  Right?"

   Time to stop teasing and give absolution.

   "Cindy, as long as I'm making you do these terrible things, any
stimulation that you receive can just be regarded as normal for any woman
under such trying circumstances.  I understand what you're saying.  I
understand that you don't like having your tits whipped, okay?" My hands
massaged her huge soft breasts; she allowing me to maul them to keep my
attention while she babbled.  But her point made, she slipped away, leaving
my hands empty.

   "Get downstairs," I ordered, my stomach fluttery with what we were going
to do.

   My schoolteacher headed downstairs, into the huge basement.  Straight
into Edwin's workroom.  The black wooden crucifix stood bolted to the wall
as he had left it.  And a small typing table made over into a carpeted
whipping table in the center of the room.  My Cindy paced the room
nervously.  Stoned or not, she was nervous.  I stripped quickly and sat
down in a folding chair.  My Cindy paced and stared at me.  I sensed that
she liked my body.  I do have a nice body for a fifteen year old.  Nice
abdominals; slim hips, fair-sized penis.  And the face of an angel.

   "Cindy, come here."

   Cindy stopped pacing and approached me.  Knelt down at my gesture.

   "Do you like my body, Cindy?"

   She flushed and looked down.  "You're just a kid, Damien.  A child."

   "Do you like my body?"

   My schoolteacher looked away.  I gently led her chin around to face me;
her eyes glassy, her face red.  "Well?", I demanded.

   "You have a nice body, okay?", her voice imploring.  My cock jutting
towards her face.  Her eyes drawn to it like a cobra that must be watched
every second lest it spit venom.

   "More."

   "I like your body.  It's young and tight.  Your....  thing...  sticks
straight up.  Okay?" My teacher was humiliated.  I rubbed my penis gently
over her face.  The furnace kicked on and footsteps sounded on the stair.
Edwin coming to join us.

   "Take you clothes off, Mrs.  Van Horn.  Time to get going.  How about we
show your husband that trick you learned?"

   "What trick?"

   "The one with my cock in your mouth."

   "Oh no, Damien.  No..."

   "Take your clothes off."

   "Damien, that thing you made me do..."

   "Take your clothes off."

   "I don't want...  you know...."

   "I know I told you twice now to take your clothes off.  That's what I
know.  Now do it before I get pissed."

   My pretty little schoolteacher arose.  Her face a study in desperation.
Afraid to appeal further for leniency.  Afraid she had already angered me.
She turned on me and tugged her sweatpants down, along with her white
panties.  She stepped out of the pants, leaving them in a jumble at her
feet.  Her beautiful ass a yard away from my face.  I fought an urge to
bury my face in there until I smothered.  Her hands expertly slipping the
bulky sweatshirt off and then off came that white bra, spilling those soft
white titties into the room.  The size of those breasts surprising big on
such a small frame.  The dusky pink pancake aureoles shockingly erotic.  Oh
Mama.

   Edwin hit the room and stopped at the sight of his wife stripped and
ready.  Wondering if we started without him.  Edwin dumped his load of
requested items off on the workbench, then carefully placed his eyeglasses
down.  I bounced out of my chair, thrumming with energy for the first time
that day.

   "You get everything, Ed?"

   "Yeah," Edwin replied huskily.  I told him to strip.  Cynthia and I both
watched him as he awkwardly doffed his clothes.  I can see what Cynthia
meant about my body being young and tight.  But Edward's penis was stiff as
he pulled down his underpants.  No mistaking that.  I stepped to the front
of the crucifix.

   "For my first trick I'll need a female volunteer."

   Our Cindy looked self-consciously around and then despondently raised
her hand.

   "You.  The blonde little lady with the big rack.  Huge nipples you have.
Step forward.  Don't be shy."

   Cindy padded forward, her breasts bouncing slightly as she moved.  She
joined me and I put an arm around her waist swinging her around to address
Edwin.  Or my hand started at her waist.  It slid up to cup her far breast.

   "This trick involves a huge amount of self-control.  I call it the
Disappearing Urine trick.  As my beautiful assistant kneels near the floor
drain yonder, I will endeavor to bend this seven inch flesh rod you see
before you, from it's present upright angle down to at least horizontal;
using only one hand and the power of my mind.  I will then make urine flow
out of this rod and onto my assistant's beautiful tummy and thighs.  For
the final part of the trick, my assistant will engulf this rod and the rest
of the urine will disappear down her throat.  I will admit to you that this
little lady had attempted the trick once with disastrous results.  That
makes this attempt so much more delicious, don't you think?"

   My little assistant tried to pull away from me, but I held her fast. 
Marijuana high or not, she didn't want to repeat her performance in the
janitor's closet.  When she settled down at my side I let go of her and
gave her a little nudge towards the floor drain.  She stumbled, then turned
to face me.  Edwin went back to the bench and put his glasses on.  His cock
stood out before him.

   "Do we have to do this?  Isn't that whipping thing enough?", my little
Cindy wailed.

   "Of course we don't have to do it.  We want to do it, right?  Besides,
Edwin didn't get to see us in the janitor's closet.  Let's relive a fond
memory, at least for him, if not for you.  And how is Ed going to learn to
drink if someone doesn't show him it can be done?  All right, enough talk.
Get into position."

   My little naked schoolteacher shambled ungracefully to the floor drain
and knelt down on her knees, weight back, facing me.

   "Come closer, Ed.  You don't want to miss this," I assured him.

   Edwin sidled closer to us, trying his best to appear reluctant; close
enough to see plainly the small tears in her eyes as she waited for the
deluge.  I stood to the side of my pretty little schoolteacher.

   "Watch closely Ed.  You can handle yourself if you want.  Cindy, I want
you to watch Edwin's eyes.  Don't take your eyes off his.  Understand?"

   My Cindy nodded unhappily.  Edwin planted one hand on his penis and
stroked unconsciously, waiting for the show.  I did multiplication tables
and filled my head with thoughts of running water.  Nothing happened for
the first minute.  Stage fright?  Then I felt the first drops edging their
way out of my body.  They dropped to the tile floor far short of their
intended target.  Then the reinforcements came en masse and my pale urine
flowed, crossing the distance between my body and my pretty little
schoolteacher.  I inundated her, striking her delicious stomach and thighs
with my flow.  She flinched at my warm attentions.  Careful not to spray
her breasts because of my future designs on them, I watered my teacher,
playing my small stream over the her shorn pubis at the juncture of her
thighs.  While her husband gawked at the site of a fifteen year old pissing
on his beautiful little wife as she knelt on a floor drain staring up
bravely into her loving husband's eyes.  As my pale affection slowed, a
strange thing happened.  A warm glob of semen, not my own, struck my hand.
A second jet overshot me, striking my little beauty on her tummy.  I turned
and watched Edwin Van Horn grunting and shooting his wad on his wife as she
looked up at him with an indecipherable look on her face.

   I held my hand out and brushed it up against Cindy's mouth.  She knew it
was coming and her lips closed on it, pulling her husband's errant wad off
my skin and into her mouth.  Semen in the mouth was not something she
relished; I had learned and exploited that fact early on in this
relationship.  Stepping up to my teacher as my urine dribbled off, I
watched her make another conscious decision.

   "Now for the last part of the trick.  My lovely assistant will accept
this bent rod into her mouth and the remaining urine will disappear!"

   And I stepped into my pretty teacher's face.  Her mouth opened and
accepted me as her eyes slid up my chest to my face.  I stared back down at
her pretty face.  And contracted my muscles, shooting my cleansing jets of
urine into her mouth.  And I watched her swallow and keep it down.  Her
mouth warm on my penis, which had every intention of stiffening and staying
in her mouth for awhile.  Instead, I nodded to her and backed off
reluctantly.

   "Edwin, do you have to go to the bathroom before we get started?"

   Edwin shook his head quickly.  "No...  I...  uh...  went upstairs."

   "More's the pity, Edwin.  I can't tell you how fun that was.  Anyway,
give her a big hug and then strap her to the cross."

   And my Edwin helped his tearstained little wife up, taking that
opportunity to hug her and grind his spent penis into her belly.  He then
led her to the crucifix he had built.  She took a big swallow of her wine
before he slowly took her right arm and fastened it into the velcro loop at
the arm of the cross.  Then he took her left arm and fastened that.  My
little teacher stood arms outstretched fastened to the cross.  Her huge
breasts spilling down her chest.  Edwin knelt and spread her feet about two
feet apart before securing them.  I stepped in and rubbed my penis lightly
into her belly.  My teacher's face with one last spark of hope.

   "Damien, Please.  I don't want this."

   "I do.  I've never whipped anyone.  It'll be cool."

   "We can do other things then.  Other things you've never done..."

   "No.  I better stick with this, Mrs.  Van Horn.  It'll be over in a few
minutes."

   And I grabbed my teacher's big-nippled breasts in an agony of lust.  I
squeezed them like Charmin.  I licked them, preparing them for the sting of
the whip.  I hefted and dropped those heavy tits just to watch gravity try
to pull them off this small chest.  Finally, I hauled one up to Cindy's
face and pressed the nipple against her mouth.

   "Open."

   Her mouth opened and I popped the nipple of her large breast inside.  I
watched her tongue circle the dusky aureole.  With tears in her eyes. 
Erotic indeed.  I dropped the heavy breast and stepped back.  I grabbed the
liquorice whip from the counter and made a nice preliminary swoosh in the
air.  I had everyone's attention.

   "Edwin, you get down between her legs with the vibrator.  She's going to
need all the help she can get.  Understand?"

   Edwin took off his glasses and laid them back on the workbench.  He
seemed reluctant; a slow old chunky teacher.  I considered running a
preliminary blow across his ass to get him moving.

   "I don't know, Damien..."

   "You don't know what, Ed?  You don't know why we got to keep going now
that you shot your load?  Fuck you, get down on it.  Go."

   "It's just that..." he began.

   "Stop.  Just stop, Edwin.  Here's the deal.  Take it or leave it.  You
trade places with Cynthia.  You take the whipping across your chest and
ass. I fuck you, then your wife runs that vibrator up your ass.  Do you
want to trade?"

   And my guidance counselor slipped to his knees, vibrator in hand and
hugged his little wife's hips.  And kissed the unwiped lips of her sex
before switching the powerful vibrator on and plying her with it.  Whip in
hand, I assumed a balanced position in front of my target.

   I honestly didn't know what to expect from this whipping.  I hadn't
whipped anyone before and really didn't know what would happen.  I didn't
even know why I wanted to whip Cindy's tits.  I just know that I wanted to.
And so I did.

   I brought the first stroke in from the side, a medium speed strike onto
her left breast.  My teacher gasped in sudden pain.  Her eyes locked shut
and her shoulders rounded down and in a futile attempt to protect that
wonderful chest.  Her legs stiffened and stretched upward.  My second shot
was a backhand onto her right breast.  She let out a little scream, and one
of her legs came up momentarily off the floor.  I found my rhythm and
commenced to whip my teacher's breasts with sidearm swings.  I swung hard
now, and my teacher screamed at each impact.  Her tender breasts turned
pink quickly as I whipped them.  They swung at each impact onto them, and
swung again as my poor little teacher attempted to avoid the lashes.  I
quickly found that she had started to anticipate my blows.  So I varied my
strikes.  Two hard ones on the left.  A long pause.  Another hard one on
the left.  My teacher screamed anew, high, piping screams of pain and
discomfort.  Her breasts very pink now.  But then I noticed something else.
My teacher rubbing her crotch against the vibrator her husband held to her
clitoris.  As I whipped her breasts.  I finished with a varied flurry of
fast hard swings across my body, each striking hard and quick into her
sensitive flesh, my teacher almost incoherent now with the constant impacts
on her teats.  I stopped, panting.  Almost seventy if I was any judge.  My
teacher's eyes were locked shut, tears streaming down her face.  Crying
softly, her huge chest heaving provocatively, each breast a study in
tenderness.  I wetted the index finger of my left hand and stepped to the
right side of my teacher, grinding my hard penis into the top of her hip
bone.  I reached behind her marvelous ass and dug my finger into her little
rectum.  And felt it contract in little spasms around my finger.  My poor
little teacher was coming.  I withdrew my finger, determined to make it
good for her.  I brought my whip down onto her jugs from overhead.  I
rained blows on them from on high, her screams renewed as new parts of her
breasts were introduced to the liquorice cat o' nine tails.  No blood, no
permanent marks.  But damn, I bet it stung.  And my teacher came.  Until I
could whip no more.  I stepped back, sweat on my brow, panting like a dog.
My hard-on throbbing painfully.

   Edwin Van Horn looked up from his kneeling position.  Looked at his
wife's sore dugs at the same moment her tearstained eyes opened.  Mutely,
they examined her new pink breasts together.  As man and wife they
inspected the condition of her chest dowry.  Cindy's sobs were quieter now,
and I know she was relieved to see that her flesh was intact.

   "Let her loose, Ed.  Turn her around."

   Edwin Van Horn rose stiffly to his feet and clumsily unfastened the
velcro straps that had restrained my teacher.  As soon as her hands were
free, Cindy tenderly lifted her sore breasts and cradled them, sobbing
quietly now.  Edwin shuffled his feet uncomfortably, then turned to me.

   "How about calling it a night, Damien?  Maybe you cum somehow, and we
call it a night?"

   "No."

   "Why not?  Look, Cindy's been through enough already.  She can't do much
more.  How about it?  We give her a break and go upstairs and have some
fun? The three of us, I mean," he added quickly.

   I stared at Edwin and he stared at me.  I had him.  And so I turned to
Cindy.

   "Cindy, can we continue for awhile?"

   She looked up from cradling her wonderfully tender breasts.  She said
nothing for a moment, then whispered, "go ahead."

   Edwin's jaw almost dropped to the floor.  He rushed to his shining bride
and gently hugged her, careful not to bruise the flesh of her pink hanging
grapefruits.

   "Honey, you don't want to go on, do you?"

   "let's go," Cindy stated louder and more firmly now.  Edwin was lost in
confusion.

   "Edwin, tie her to the cross.  Ass out for whipping.  And hurry up," I
added, horny as a goat.

   Edwin slowly turned his wife to the wall and secured her feet to the
bottom members, legs spread about two feet apart.  He gently pried her
hands from her bosom and replaced them into the velcro straps.  My
teacher's flawless alabaster behind was presented to our view.  I longed to
just walk up and jab my cock between those cheeks for a minute or two.  But
that would ruin the show.  I tossed the whip to Edward.  He made an
uncoordinated attempt to catch it, then bent over to pick it up off the
floor.

   "Edwin, give me forty hard ones.  Twenty across both cheeks, then
alternate strikes to each cheek.  Forty, Edwin.  I need to see that ass
jiggling in pain.  Cindy needs that, understand?"

   "No, I don't understand, Damien.  I don't understand at all," Edwin
said, irritated by his own ignorance.

   "It's simple, Edwin.  Cindy is proving something to me.  To us.  Can't
you see?"

   "No," Edwin insisted, obstinate bastard that he was.

   "Get moving on that asswhipping then, if you're going to be so blind," I
ordered.

   "Damien, I can't do this.  I..." And Edwin stopped speaking.  He was
staring in puzzlement at his wife's ass.  And he crept closer and bent
down. I followed him, cautious and curious.  And I saw what Edwin saw.  And
we were befuddled.  We were from Mars.

   A smear of darkish red blood clung to the inside of Cindy's beautiful
thighs.  What the fuck?  And finally, it hit us.

   "Cindy, you're bleeding!", Edwin squealed.  Cindy's head turned in
alarm. "You're bleeding between your legs!" Edwin made to untie her
immediately.  Cindy's head ducked down, looking down past her damaged
breasts.  And she realized what was going on.

   "Shit.  I started my period.  I need a tampon.  Let me down for a minute
guys.  I need to take care of myself."

   And Edwin was all for letting her down.  I stopped him with one word.

   "Don't."

   Edwin froze for a second.  He was still upset, almost hysterical from
his little discovery.  He whirled on me, whip in his right hand, left hand
balled into a fist, and I prepared myself for the third and final fight.  I
didn't want to fight Edwin.  I had come to admire him in a minor way.  The
guy was a survivor.  But I had to fight him again then survival would be
the only realistic goal he could aspire to.  It would be his own, personal
Armageddon.

   "We've got to let her down to take care of herself!  Don't you get it?",
he screamed, almost daring to advance on me.

   "We're not done," I said quietly.  "We started that period by whipping
her.  Isn't that kind of exciting?  Anyway, we'll be done in a little
while. Then she can get cleaned up.  She don't mind, do you, Cindy?  Can we
get going?"

   Cindy slumped down in her restraints.  Resigned.  It went against all
decency and hygiene, but she accepted it.

   "Let's get this over with," was all she said.

   Edwin stared confusedly at his little wife's pretty butt, then back at
me.  He didn't know what to say.  Or what to do.  So I told him again.

   "Edwin?  Forty across the butt?  Remember?"

   Edwin Van Horn turned to his wife's nude form.  He stared at the smear
of menstrual blood on her thighs.  A shudder ran through him.  Then he
side-armed that whip and crashed it into Cindy's right buttcheek.  She
stiffened, the muscles of her beautiful derriere bunching in pain.  She
gasped, all the air leaving her lungs.  The next stroke caught both cheeks
squarely, bouncing off her beautiful ass.  And my teacher cried out and
started to cry.  And we were off again.  He laid into her, striking her
clenched bottom remorselessly, drawing fresh cries with each stroke.  And
my pretty little teacher's wonderful butt turned pink with pain as he
worked her over.  She cried, releasing her anguish upon the room.  Her ass
gradually loosened as she couldn't hold herself taut anymore and the
strikes took on a more mellow striking sound.  It was wonderful.  It was
over too soon.  And I'm the one who stopped it when I realized that Edwin
hadn't been counting.  I stopped him after 51 strokes on that pink ass; my
teacher's soft sobs and Edwin's harsh panting the only sounds left in the
room.

   "Take her down Ed.  Put her over the little table.  Kneel down at her
head and kiss her.  Tell her what a good girl she's been."

   I was almost panting myself.  I had to get off.

   Edwin dropped the whip and stepped in quickly to release his wife from
the crucifix he had built with the torture of his little wife in mind. 
After freeing her, he held her softly, careful not to press against her
breasts.  And I felt a little bit jealous.  Not angrily jealous, just
jealous.  There had never been anyone to hold me when I was in distress;
never anyone for me to comfort, either.

   He led her slowly to the short typing table he had padded and she lay
slowly over the top, careful to allow her swollen breasts to lay down at
their own pace before lying atop them.  Edwin gently secured her legs and
hands to the four corners, exposing her reddened backside to me.  He knelt
down next to Cindy and started gently kissing her face.  Stroking her hair.
I grabbed the bottle of lubricant and lubed my penis.  Damn, that felt
good. But not as good as my teacher's ass would feel.  And so I stepped in
behind her and parted her cheeks.  She moaned in her throat and Edwin
looked up briefly in consternation, then went back to kissing our darling.
I pried her cheeks apart and viewed her beautiful light brown anus, nestled
betwixt those beautiful, tender globes.  The dark menstrual blood had dried
on her thighs and a unfamiliar smell wafted up to me.  Strange and exotic,
I knew instinctively that it was the smell of a woman in menses.  What
mysteries I had yet to learn.

   I lay my penis in the groove leading up to her brown winkie and slid
forward.  Her anus caught and held me there, and our parts struggled to
establish dominance.  My throbbing cock was most insistent, and I slipped
partially into her.  My schoolteacher gasped in discomfort, and Edwin
nuzzled her face, whispering something into her ear.  Something comforting
I hoped.  Because in the next few seconds, I backed off and reapplied
myself in her ass.  And I skewered her.  Her back rose up for a few seconds
and I rode her sweet distress.  Then she lay back down on her belly and
accepted me.  With her husband whispering sweet nothings in her ear.  A
fifteen year old lodged up her ass.

   Her guts were warm and inviting; so clasping and malleable and red as I
stroked slowly in and out.  Exquisite feeling.  And I still felt her
attempts to dislodge me.  Good for me, bad for her.

   I felt the extra warmth from her whipped cheeks on my thighs and I
pressed hard against her tender buttocks, fresh from the whipping post.

   I leaned evermore forward, putting more and more of my weight behind my
penis as I bored into my teacher-love.  Trying to bury myself into her. 
She grunted and grunted at each stroke, an unladylike sound which played
like music to my ears.  Nice to know such a small thing could cause such
sounds.  I put my full weight down and flattened her asscheeks under me. 
And I came, gushing up her ass canal.  Easily a week's worth of semen fled
me, vastly preferring the stinkhole of my love.  It was my turn to arch my
back and groan aloud.  My prostate spasmed almost painfully as I evacuated
inside my teacher.  I lay atop her wonderful ass, dully hearing her grunts
and labored breathing as the remains of my spend trickled out of me and
into her.  Finally, I laboriously dragged myself off her but still buried
to the root up her back passage.  I filed a mental picture of myself
disappearing into her.  Moving slowly back, my flaccid penis pulled out,
slimed with my cream, yet clean for having occupied such a space for such a
time.  I held my teacher's cheeks gently apart.  Cindy's breathing slowed
as she rested.  Her anus was angry and open in silent protest to my
invasion.  Like Hungary.  I saw the tailings of my semen glistening just
within.  I released her cheeks and her asshole closed slowly, hiding from
my view.  I was physically satiated for the moment.  But my mind still
raced.

   "Switch," I ordered Edwin Van Horn.

   "Switch?", he echoed, dumbly.

   "Yes.  Switch.  I go to the head.  You come to the butt.  It's your turn
up there.  I left it lubed for you.  It's nice up there--it really is." I
spoke encouragingly.

   Edwin Van Horn looked at me and then at his restrained wife uncertainly.


   "Go, Ed.  It's a free ride up the back road.  She doesn't let you up
there.  She told me."

   Edwin was a picture of nervous doubt.  He blushed like a bride.

   "Do it.  She doesn't mind.  Not after everything that's happened.  Don't
worry--you'll get your chance to make it all better.  So go."

   Poor Edwin finally rose, his knees popping from kneeling down.  He
shambled down towards the bottom of the small table.  His penis was
semi-erect already.  For my part, I walked up the other side of Cindy
towards her head.  She looked up and regarded me silently and calmly as I
stood at her face, my penis dangling languorously in front of her.  Edwin
looked at the two of us, concerned that I would demand that she take my
cock into her mouth.  Unsoiled by her but still fresh from her ass.

   "Please don't," he asked, humbly on her behalf.  Ever the gentleman.

   "I won't.  I wouldn't unless she wanted me to.  Even I've got limits," I
answered, looking at my pretty little schoolteacher's upturned face as I
spoke.  I couldn't read her expression.  I did know that it wasn't fear or
hate.  It wasn't love or devotion either.  It might had been peace.

   I knelt down at my teacher's head and watched over her left shoulder as
Edwin stepped into the batter's box between her spread legs.  Between the
red cushiony buttocks of our mutual interest.  He parted her cheeks
slightly and viewed the miasma I had left to pave the way to the core of
her gastro-intestinal tract.  And the blood of our sacrificial lamb drying
on the inside of her thighs.  His penis jutted straight and strong now,
though he lacked the gravity-defying angle of my fifteen year-old prong. 
But he was ready and he leaned forward to insert his penis into his wife's
used asshole.  She grunted just a bit as she accepted her husband into her
butt.  Her primary focus was on me.  It was highly unnerving.  I knew she
wanted to talk.  To communicate.  She was just waiting for me to initiate
conversation.  Which I dearly did not want to do.  She wanted me to whisper
to her while her husband worked himself off in her least favorite orifice.
Women use communication as their secret weapon.  They control language;
tame it and train it and shape it.  To be used when they know a man doesn't
want to talk.  A trap men only recognize after it's been sprung.  I knew I
was in trouble.  I knew I had been trapped.  And so I fought as best I
could in the words our Creator gave us.  Hoping to escape intact.

   "You having a good time?" I asked smugly, leaning in, our cheeks
brushing as I spoke into her right ear, pretending only cursory politeness.

   "I'll be okay, Damien.  Are you getting what you came for?  I did it,
didn't I?", my pretty little teacher murmured.  Implied request for
acknowledgment.

   "Yeah.  You did," I grudgingly admitted, as form dictated.

   "You liked it?"

   "Yeah.  It was great.  But we're not done, you know," I added quickly
and almost loudly; Edwin's attuned ear picking up this part of our
whispered conversation as he sawed into his wife's rear end.  He glanced
myopically at us before resuming his battering.  But, buried in her most
intimate place, he was odd-man out.  Now there's a paradox for you.

   "I know.  You'll have something else before you're done.  You are
getting predictable." my teacher's voice was chiding.  And I was alarmed,
feeling the power shift.  From the strong to the weak because the weak
proved they could take it.

   "We'll see.  We'll see when Edwin gets done.  I've got a surprise
activity for you both.  It'll be a cleansing experience," I promised
cryptically.

   "Okay," was all she said.  Totally accepting.  Unreacting.  Slightly
amusing and irritating all at the same time.  Adorable and worthy of
regard.

   "Kiss me," I challenged.

   My pretty little teacher's head cocked towards mine and we kissed.  Our
mouth's parted and my teacher's tongue slid into my mouth.  Our tongues
rubbed and mock-fought.  For almost a minute we kissed.  Right through the
moments when Edwin stiffened and leaned forward, flattening his wife's
asscheeks as he shot his wad up her ass.  We broke off our kiss.  My face
carried a look of pleasure.  My teacher's face showed the smallest trace of
a smile.  And then I realized who had been dominant in that kiss.  Her
tongue in my mouth.  The older woman schooling the inexperienced, impetuous
and over-excited youth.  She had won that round easily.  And she knew that
I knew.  Suddenly, I didn't mind losing though.

   Edwin backed off his wife and made his way over to the workbench,
seeking his glasses.  Figuring that we were done.  It was time to disabuse
him.  Somebody else had to be a victim.

   "What are you doing?"

   Edwin turned; his glasses in his hands once more.  He was confused.

   "What?"

   I said it again.  "What are you doing?  We're not done yet."

   "What do you mean, Damien?  I don't understand."

   I made an inquiry and a challenge to my little teacher, restrained over
the table, semen pooling inside her ass.

   "You got to go to the bathroom, Cindy?  You got to go right now?  Or can
you wait a few minutes?  I ask because I remember that one time where you
crab-walked out the bedroom when I was done buttfucking you.  You barely
made it to the toilet."

   Cindy looked up from the table, craning her neck to address me.

   "I'm okay.  I just need to go get a pad.  I'm bleeding pretty good."

   "Let her up, Ed."

   "That's what I was going to do, Damien," Edwin said somewhat testily. 
He went to our little schoolteacher and quickly undid the leg and arm
restraints.  He pulled her gently to her feet and hugged her softly.  Her
ass was to me and I could see a glistening between her cheeks.  I walked
over and grabbed the blanket and spread it out on the floor.  My couple of
lovebirds watched me.  A thin drip of blood crawled down Cindy's thigh.  I
grabbed the vibrator and the lubricant and knelt on the blanket.

   "C'mon you guys.  Get down on the blanket.  Edwin, we've made quite a
mess of Cindy's poor bottom and since you were the last one to use it,
you'll have to clean it.  If you want to help Cindy with her little problem
down there, that would be nice too.  Remember Edwin, you've cum twice
tonight.  Me and poor Cindy just once.  We have to catch up to you, you
horny bastard."

   Edwin looked alarmed at being ordered to eat out his soiled wife.  He
stared at her as she sat down demurely on the blanket and then laid back
slowly on her back.  Her legs spread, showing her bloody gash.  She stared
back at him, no expression on her face.  I brought the vibrator to her and
she accepted it, turning it on and placing it at her clitoris.  Edwin stood
stock-still, probably hoping that I was making an elaborate joke.

   "Let's go, Ed.  You were only too happy to ejaculate on Cindy while I
pissed on her.  Now it's your turn to do something disgusting.  Go."

   "When do you have to do something disgusting?  When is it your turn?",
Edwin demanded, sulkily.  I turned on him, smiling graciously.

   "Hey man, I'm a guest here.  Besides, you don't ask a Chef to do dishes.
Anyway, your penis is starting to jump.  Deep down, the idea of using your
tongue to clean your wife appeals to you.  Let's not even argue about that
point, okay?  If it appealed to me, I'd do it.  It appeals to you.  So you
do it.  Don't worry what I'll think of you.  It doesn't matter, so go."

   "What are you going to be doing?"

   "I've got some lotion for our little teacher's sore breasts."

   I knelt down next to my teacher's right side, my penis half-erect.  I
put some lubricant into my palm and went to town on my penis, stroking it
as only I could.  My teacher's eyes watched my penis as she vibrated
herself towards nirvana.  I leaned out over her fabulously tender pink
breasts and grabbed the near one with my left hand.  My pretty title
schoolteacher moaned.  And our Edwin, down on his knees between her spread
legs, separated her thighs with his hands and applied his face to the semen
and blood caked orifices we had adorned.  Pushing her creamy thighs back
just a bit to get at her swollen anus.  Noisily licking the blood stains
off her thighs before attacking her core.  Blood on his nose from his
excavations.  And all the while I masturbated over my teacher's breast
while squeezing the other teat to her great dismay.  Cindy moaned, her eyes
shut now, plying the vibrator on her clitoris and thrusting her pelvis
slightly while her husband cleaned our leavings from her ass and her
menstrual blood from her vagina.

   I stared at my teacher's pretty face; her eyes closed in concentration.
Her pink tits under me.  Her husband's face between her thighs.  It didn't
take long.  I erupted atop my pretty little teacher's large breasts,
shooting thin streams of semen onto her mammaries.  I pulled my aim down
and pressed myself into her right tit, gushing my load into her flesh and
swirling my ejaculate into the skin of her aureole.  What a good feeling of
release.  After I was done, I let loose of my penis and used my index
finger to spread my cream on her large soft breasts.  Her eyes opened
slightly to watch me.  I collected a glob of mucilage with my index finger
and painted her lips until she opened her mouth and allowed me to feed her
my essence.  Cindy groaned and bucked up into Edwin's face.  She was
coming. I finished spreading my come into her skin until her chest was a
glistening mess.  Cindy brought her vibrator to a halt and Edwin backed off
out from between her legs, his face bearing faint traces of pink-tinged
saliva.  He would not meet my glance, fearing that I would condemn him for
drinking out of the Red Sea.  I was too tired for any of that.  I helped
Cindy to her feet and she left immediately, grabbing her clothes as she
fled the room.  Edwin finally looked at me after wiping his face on the
towel.

   "Are we done for tonight?", he asked.

   "Yeah."

   "That was weird to say the least."

   "Yeah.  But it was worth it, wasn't it?"

   "I'm not sure how I should answer that.  We both did things we wouldn't
normally do, that's for sure."

   "Keep it up, Edwin.  You're not going to have me around much longer to
make you guys walk with me on the wild side."

   He looked at me briefly as if he wanted to say something, then thought
better of it.  Me, not being very good at after-sex repartee, gathered my
clothes and made myself ready to walk home.  I found Cindy upstairs in the
family room, dressed with keys in hand.

   "I'll give you a ride home," she offered.  My first inclination was to
decline.  But I was somewhat interested in her motives.  So I said okay.  I
climbed into the passenger side of the Expedition feeling vaguely
submissive.  My pretty little schoolteacher driving her student home.  Like
a good boy.  We hadn't even backed out of the driveway when she started.

   "Damien, Edwin and I have been talking the last few days."

   "Yeah?"

   "Yes.  For the first time in several years, Edwin and I are really
together.  After that night you surprised me after the bar, I realized what
a first class cunt I had become.  I left Edwin behind to deal with you
while I went out with my friends.  You made us both pay the price for my
mistake." She trailed off, expectantly.

   "Yes, I remember.  So?"

   "I'm going through changes right now.  I'm changing back to the woman
Edwin married.  And when I get there, we'll live happily ever after, you
better believe that." Her voice was high and tremulous, daring me to
disbelieve.

   I was getting more and more tired.  This was obviously a re-negotiation
based on a perception of a changed relationship.  I spoke up.

   "I'm your personal demon, aren't I, Cindy?"

   "Damien...," she said, alarmed.

   "And what I make you do?  It pays you back for being a bitch right? 
That's how you see it, don't you?  'I'll submit to Damien.  Punish myself
by submitting to Damien.  And when I'm good and punished, cleansed by his
wrath--when it's finally over--I go and live happily ever after with poor,
dear Edwin.  Because I've paid for my sins', right?  You'll have come
through my baptism of fire?  Do penance?"

   "See-", she started to explain.  But I had her.  First time I'd figured
anything out that night.

   "But happy as you are to be cleansed by my little activities, you still
want some basic rules.  No more fucking you in school.  No more whipping or
peeing.  Don't hit Edwin.  Shit like that.  Am I right?"

   "it's just that-" she protested.

   "I understand.  I'll tell you what.  I'll give you one thing.  As my way
of saying thanks for taking the whippings so well.  One thing.  No more
fucking in school, no more whipping, no more peeing, no more beating Edwin.
Which do you pick?  I'll grant you one demonic wish." I made my voice deep
and sepulchral and Cindy fairly shrieked at me.

   "STOP THAT!  YOU STOP SCARING ME!"

   "Okay, Cindy.  Which one thing do you pick?"

   "I want two things."

   "I want two things too, Cindy.  And if you don't give me an answer I'm
going to reach down your shirt and squeeze the two things I'm thinking
about.  Squeeze them hard.  Answer.  One thing."

   "no more school, I guess," my pretty teacher said disappointed.

   "You got it.  I won't have any sexual contact with you in school."

   "No intercourse or oral sex," my little teacher amended quickly.  "Oral
Sex is sexual contact."

   "Not according to the President.  But I promise no physical contact of
any kind."

   "Okay," my teacher agreed, semi-pleased, on the whole, to have won
something in negotiation.  It was time to settle the other unfinished
business.

   "I've learned something since this began and I've got to tell you," I
started out.

   She peered over intently at me, a somewhat dangerous habit for someone
maneuvering a four thousand pound machine.

   "What, Damien?  What have you learned?" her voice coaxing me and rife
with feminine curiosity.  A women's need to share experiences, even with a
boy.  Or maybe to gather information about my weaknesses?  Oh Delilah, just
kiss my short-haired spear before you shave me.

   "I...  like you and Edwin better now than when this started.  I used to
think...  people told me...  I lack 'empathy'.  I didn't have feelings
about other people.  But I like you guys better now," I blurted out like a
stupid child.  And watch my teacher's pretty face soften with emotion.  She
spoke; her voice giving.

   "Well...  maybe I don't believe you're actually Satan anymore, come to
ruin my life.  Maybe I see you now as a troubled kid.  With horrible ideas
about people's feelings."

   I plunged ahead, providing honesty.  Know thyself, you know.  "Cindy, I
believe that my acts against you and Edwin are a manifestation of my anger
towards my absent parents."

   Cindy's eyes snapped open in sudden understanding.  She pulled the
vehicle to the side of the road at the corner of my street and stared
openly at me.

   "Damien, do you think that's true?  Edwin and I being surrogate parents
that you're punishing for having abandoned you?  My God..." Her voice held
horror; whether for me or for my situation I was afraid to guess.  And for
probably the first time in my life, I openly feared rejection.  At the
hands of this suburban couple I practically owned, I feared to be named a
monster.

   "I think it might be true.  I don't know," I lied, to hide my shame.  I
knew.  I just needed to flee.  My little confession had stirred the pot too
much.

   "Damien, what can we do?  We have to break this cycle of hate.  It's
self-destructive.  I should have you talk to Edwin.  He's studied these
things."

   I jumped out of the vehicle, leaning back in to deliver my message.

   "Cindy, this far into the game, I feel like I should finish what I
started with you and Edwin.  I love you, even if it doesn't seem like it.
Good-night." And I ran off into the first chilly night of November.  Ran
away from emotion and the threat it presented to my once impregnable
fortress of self.

   The End of Part Seven of Teacher Passes the Test, Spare the Rod and
Spoil the Teacher.