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From: "Hex Decimal" <hexdecimal@hotmail.com>
Subject: {Hex} Amy's Lessons Chapt 1-4 M/g M/F MDOM
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Copyright c 1998 Hex Decimal. ALL Rights Reserved
This story may not be reproduced in any form for profit without the
written permission of the author. This story may be freely distributed
with this notice attached. The author may be contacted by sending email
to: hexdecimal@hotmail.com
This story is fiction, and should be treated as such. The following
story is for the entertainment of ADULTS ONLY, and contains descriptions
of explicit sex. If you are not an adult, or reading sex stories upset
you, do not read any further.
Story Codes: MDOM, M/g, M/F
Amy's Lessons - Chapters 1-4
Chapter One
My life ended when I turned ten. Not that I actually died, although
many times I over the last eleven years I wished I had. That is because
every thing good I had known up until I turned ten was taken from me.
What it was replaced with was the most degrading, the most humiliating,
and far worse, the most sexually pleasurable life.. as my step-father's
slave.
Let me start at the beginning. My name is Amy White, and I was about to
turn ten years old. My mother had planned a backyard party. There was
a chocolate cake covered with candles and a big container of ice cream.
I had been allowed to invite several my school mates, although only
young girls like my self. I felt momma and I were the prettiest there,
because she and I had dressed alike in pink frilly summer dresses, and
we both had big pink bows in our hair. The party started about ten that
morning, and for awhile, it was a such a happy party.
I asked several times to open the presents that my class mates had
brought, but momma insisted I wait for daddy. She kept all of us busy
playing group games like pin-the-tail on the donkey (a game I later grew
to hate for many reasons). There was even a pi¤ata, in the shape of a
donkey, that all of us took turns trying to break open while
blindfolded. When it became my turn, I gladly put on the blindfold and
then started swinging, trying to break the paper donkey open. All of us
were laughing, Then daddy came home.
Daddy came through the back gate into the yard. I was later told that
his arms were piled so high (with gifts for me) that he couldn't see
what was in front of him. As he neared the brick fireplace, one that he
himself had built before I was born, he tripped on an uneven spot in the
sidewalk and fell towards the fireplace.
I didn't actually see it happen since I was blindfolded. I heard momma
scream, and then everything got quite. I took off the blindfold and
turned around, wondering what why no one was laughing. At first, I
didn't see momma. Then, when I did, I saw in her lap she cradled
daddy's head. He had fallen and bashed his head on the corner of the
fireplace.
I will always remember that the lap of mommy's pink dress was covered in
daddy's blood. Momma was crying and talking softly to daddy, although I
couldn't make out what she was saying. I ran over to them, and in my
haste as I neared them I also tripped. I fell with my face landing on
daddy's chest. He didn't move; he didn't grunt. He just laid there.
Somehow, even at ten years old, I knew he was dead.
The two weeks following are a blur to me. It's a collage of images, of
the ambulance, the hospital, and the funeral; of family and friends
sitting in the living room or standing in the kitchen eating and
sometimes laughing. Even now, all these years later, it still seems so
unreal to me. Although momma has never spoken of daddy's death with me,
I'm sure she was feeling the same as me at the time.
Chapter Two
It was about a month after the funeral that I noticed that momma didn't
seem to be herself. She never got dressed, but instead stayed in her
blue housecoat. She had also taken to sleeping most of the time, only
getting up to go to the bathroom, or sometimes she'd find her way to the
kitchen to eat. We never talked. Mostly she just cried. It was like I
didn't exist.
I knew my way around the kitchen enough to heat up some soup, or how to
make tuna fish sandwiches, and that's what we lived on about the next
six months. I would go to school during the day, then go right home to
take care of momma. I learned to do the shopping, the laundry, and how
to write a check to pay the bills. But. like any ten year old kid, I
had hadn't learned to keep my mouth shut.
Things had been going as they were for about six months, almost at the
end of the school year, when I made my first mistake. I had been given
homework to do by my math teacher Mr. Black, but because I had stayed up
late watching TV, I didn't get the work done. I was, after all, a ten
year old kid with almost no parental control. What was worse, this was
the third time in the last two weeks that I hadn't gotten it done. Mr.
Black teacher had warned me I'd be in trouble if it happened again.
The next day, at the beginning of math class, Mr. Black went around the
room, collecting everyone's homework. Then he came to me. When I
didn't offer him my paper he asked "Your homework Miss White?" Not
knowing what to say I stammered "I. I didn't. I didn't get it done.."
With a stern voice he said. "I will see you after class!" Since math
class was my last class of the day, I knew then that I was going to miss
my bus home. It was going to be a long ride home.
Although I was in trouble with him, I sort of liked Mr. Black. He
sometimes kidded me about our last names, his being Black and mine being
White. He said that we were opposites, and that opposites attract., but
I didn't really understand what he meant.
When the end of class came, I stayed in my seat. For ten minutes Mr.
Black ignored me as he graded everyone else's papers. All I could do
was fidget and worry what kind of trouble I was now in.
As he was finishing the last paper he said "Come up here Miss White." I
timidly left my seat and approached his desk, finally ending up standing
across the desk from him. Without looking up he said sternly "Over
here." while pointing to his right side. He put the last paper on the
pile and turned to look at me. He reached out with his hand, putting it
on my waist, and pulled me closer. I was standing between his spread
legs. I was afraid to look into his eyes, which left me staring at his
lap. It seemed like something about his lap was odd. the front of his
pants were all puffed out.
Chapter 3
"Look at me!" he commanded, his voice taking on the tone that all kids
know. The tone that says "You are in big trouble with me" I didn't
want to, but I quickly brought my eyes up until I was looking into his.
I didn't like what I saw. "Explain to me why you failed to do your
homework," again his voice had that tone, "and you had better not lie to
me. Not, if you know what is good for you!" he growled.
Now I was really scared. I stammered "I. watched TV.. It got late."
That was all I was able to get out before I started crying. Mr. Black
reached out with both hands and wrapped them around me in a hug, pulling
me so that my belly covered his lap and my face lay against his chest.
"There, there Amy." He said in a much softer voice. "There is no
reason to cry." He murmured into my ear.
He kept me hugging me, holding me over his lap for a short time. I soon
realized what had made Mr. Black's lap seem all puffed out before. his
pee-pee! It seemed so huge against my belly. I tried to stand back up,
and he reluctantly let me. He looked me in the eyes and said "Now,
explain to me again, without crying, why you didn't get your home work
done." So I told him the whole story; about how mommy had taken to
sleeping all the time, about how she never seemed to get dressed any
more, and about how I had started taking care of the things like the
laundry, the cooking, and paying the bills.
With a slight smile he said "My, my. you seem to have such large
responsibilities for such a little girl" Then he pulled me forward and
hugged me again. This time, as he held me, I felt a movement under my
belly. It felt like something lightly bumping up against me.
"Everything will be ok." He said lightly into my ear.
As he was saying this, I reached my hand up in and between his body and
mine. I wondered what it was that was moving. Could it really be his
pee-pee? When my hand reached the bulge in Mr. Black's lap, I gave it a
squeeze. When I did that, I herd him let out a sigh. It was so big!
Just as I was about to give it another squeeze he quickly released me,
pushing me up until I was standing. His eyes again had that look.
"Don't you know that touching men there is bad Amy?" he barked at
me. As he said this his hand grabbed my arm, and then he pulled me down
so that I was laying across his lap. "First", he said, "I'm going to
punish you for your insolence. Then you and I are going to your house
and discuss this with your mother!" With that he flipped the back of my
dress up and exposing my white panties.
Chapter Four
Wasting no time he started slapping my behind. It hurt so bad, and all
I could do was squirm. I kept trying to bring my legs up, to help block
the blows, but my feet were up under his desk. All I ended up doing was
hurting the heels of my feet as I kicked the underside of his desk. The
kicking actually hurt worse than the spanking, so I quit and just laid
there crying.
Although I had seen it happen to other kids, I had never been spanked
before. Neither my mother nor my father had ever spanked me. Mr. Black
was doing more than reddening my bottom. he was also breaking my spirit!
Besides crying, all I could do was lay there and take it.
After about a dozen more slaps to my behind he stopped. On the last
blow he left his hand resting on my very sore bottom. This actually
felt good, as his hand absorbed some of the heat the spanking had
caused. It also seemed to take some of the sting away. I also noticed,
for the first time, that he seemed to moving me up and down across his
lap. Finally, over the sounds of my own sobbing, I heard him let out a
sigh. He left me on his lap for several moments, and then he grabbed my
arm and pushed me up until I was standing.
I stood before him, shaking and sobbing, although he hardly seemed to
notice me. His breathing seemed to be labored, and his face was
flushed. Looking down I noticed a small wet spot in the front of his
pants, and all I could think of was that Mr. Black had peed his pants.
"Amy," he said, obviously still trying to catch his breath, "let that be
a lesson to you." I was still very shaken up, and all I could do was
nod my head. "Tell me what you've learned? he asked. At first I
didn't know what he wanted me to say, and hesitated a bit before
speaking. Then, though my sobs, I blubbered "nnnot to. not to touch.
touch peoples pee-pees." "No," he replied, "the lesson you learned was
not to do it without being asked to do it."
He continued "It's a lesson I'm sure you won't forget for awhile, but
when you do I will be sure to remind you!" With that, he stood up and
said, "First, you can thank me for teaching you your lesson, and then
lets get you home." When I didn't say anything, he said "Or do you need
another lesson Miss White?", and he started to reach for my arm.
"No.. please?", I said. And then, "Thank you for teaching me my lesson
Mr. Black." I said between more sobs. With a nod of his head he took my
hand and said "Lets go.."
The ride home was, for the most part, uneventful. I finally quit crying.
I looked over at Mr. Black's lap, and noticed that it was no longer
bulging. The wet spot was all but gone. If I hadn't known where to
look I wouldn't have known it was ever there. What was not gone was the
soreness of my behind. I still felt the heat that the spanking had
generated. It was a feeling I would come to know well.
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