("`-''-/").___..--''"`-._ `6_ 6 ) `-. ( ).`-.__.`) (_Y_.)' ._ ) `._ `. ``-..-' _..`--'_..-_/ /--'_.' ,' (((' (((-((('' (((( K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N _________________________________________ WARNING! This text file contains sexually explicit material. If you do not wish to read this type of literature, or you are under age Eighteen, PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!! _________________________________________ Scroll down to view text Archive name: season08.txt (ff, teens) Authors name: Linda B. (an454887@anon.penet.fi) Story title : The Passing of Seasons - Chapter 8 of 13 ------------------------------------------------------ Copyright © 1996 Linda B. - This story is written for adults and involves a consensual relationship between two older teen girls. If you are a teenager, we as adults don't think that you should read this even though you are sexually mature and probably have much more sexual desire than we do, but we are merely jealous of your sexual virility. Please leave us alone to *fantasize* about being your age once again. I'm sorry but you'll have to wait until you're at least 18 before you can have your own fantasies. Preferably you should wait until you're at least 30 or older, that way you can really have something to fantasize about: your very own teenage years! I would appreciate any *positive* feedback about this story, including your feelings as you read the story. ------------------------------------------------------ The Passing of Seasons - Chapter 8 by Linda B. (an454887@anon.penet.fi) My favorite books were romantic novels, especially those that took place in the medieval times. In them I found all the necessary ingredients for my wildest fantasies: Castles, knights in shining armor, princes to sweep me of my feet and ride off into the nearest sunset. Nothing to do but stroll around all day in fancy dresses through the flower gardens... But, there was a darker side to my fantasies too, where masked men would lock a steel collar around my neck and lead me by chains into that room. The one with a table in the middle of it. The table on which I would inevitably be strapped down and "prepared" for sex, usually by a full compliment of beautiful maidens. They would braid my hair and rub my entire naked body with perfumed oil. And then, of course, they would make sure I was *very* wet in the most important place. For this, a specially shaped "tool" was used. Not surprisingly, it vaguely resembled a full-grown penis. I would squirm to no avail when I saw it coming. This would only earn me the punishment of having my breasts put into this special bra-like contraption made of leather with holes for my nipples so they could be pulled out just to the point where it started to hurt and held there by clamps on the bra. Mom had always made me feel that touching myself was somehow wrong and that I shouldn't do it. Knowing I would feel guilty afterward was usually enough to keep me from doing it, but not then, I was getting much too hot thinking about my favorite fantasies. Fantasies that by now usually included Jennifer. Thinking about that dildo made me want to use some- thing other than my fingers this time, something stiff and long. But what was there in the house? Sure, mom probably had a dildo tucked away somewhere, and knowing her, it probably had "keep out of reach of teenagers" stamped all over it! My mind raced through the house: candles, a bar of soap, my hair brush handle, none of which sounded too appealing. Various fruits and vegetables seemed the most promising to me, but which ones? Mom would sure get suspicious if I pulled a zucchini out of the fridge for a snack. I don't even like the stupid things *cooked* for crying out loud! After deciding that a banana would probably be too soft, I settled on a carrot. The kitchen was empty and dark when I snuck in quietly, making my way over to refrigerator. Luckily, a nice selection of carrots were available for "snacking" I pondered momentarily which one would provide the most pleasure. The one with the big "S" curve was completely out of the question, as were several other smallish ones. There were two medium sized carrots that looked appetizing, both having lots of ridges. I wonder how *they* would feel, I thought. My finger tips caressed and stroked each one slowly, trying to imagine how wonderful they might be inside me. I couldn't wait to find out! Warming them up in the microwave would have been nice, but too risky. I could imagine trying to explain *that* one to my mother! Once back in my bed room, it wasn't long before I was being whisked away to the castle, where various forms of exquisite pleasure would await me. My transportation consisted of a cage on top of a wagon which was deliberately paraded through the town. No pumpkin coach for this slave girl! My nipples immediately hardened as I gently rolled them in my fingertips. Suddenly the wagon stopped and three knights rode up, their horses clad in armor. They walked over silently, then unlocked the cage. I tried to hold on as my body was pulled through the door. It didn't work. Later...I would receive a well deserved and proper punishment. But for now, it was time for the carrot. Slowly and carefully I pushed it up into my vagina. It was a little scary at first, at *very* first! I could feel each ridge of the carrot stimulating my clit as it passed by. In and out, in and out, I could feel myself being carried away. Carried away in chains. To my favorite castle, my favorite room, my favorite table. Where the knights awaited me. "Put her into the special bra for her punishment," called one of them. While I was being held, they put me into what was more like a large leather harness than a bra, complete with the same sort of nipple clamping accessories as the other one. The clamps were installed, just as I had hoped, then a leash was attached to them this time, and I was led down a long corridor. I could feel the blood rushing into my private areas, slowly writhing on my bed, working the "tool" I held in my hand. The tool that he held in his hand when I was urged through the doorway into the room. The dust from the dirt floor was suspended in the sunlight, shadowed by iron bars in the window. The dark handsome figure motioned toward the table. I knew what they wanted. I felt my weightless body being carried with the strength of several men. It felt like my whole body was rising, lifting off my bed, higher with each stroke of the carrot. I spread my legs as wide as they would go, imagining my captures in that room doing the same. Suddenly everything started expanding, all my senses, my feelings. Everything was getting bigger and bigger until it all exploded. My body jerked up and down on the bed uncontrollably. I didn't know where I was or who I was for that moment of time, that moment when time stands still for eternity. It was an incredible orgasm, one I could only imagine sharing with Jennifer. Then there was a knock on my bedroom door. It was mom, no doubt, slowly forcing the doorknob back and forth against the lock. No one else would continue for so long. So agonizingly long. "Sarah?" My voice was muffled while I quickly jerked a shirt over my head. "Yes mom." "Can I come in?" I felt like saying "no" right then, but her tone of voice had given away the suspicion. She no doubt had come to find out what was going on, although never asking me directly. Instead she kept glancing around the room, looking for clues and distracting me with things like: "Aren't you excited about the first day of school?" and "Tell me all about the books you've been reading lately." Like I was going to believe she was interested in that! Right! Little did she know, some of my favorite books and magazines were ones I had dug out of the trash or "borrowed" from her reading room. You could always tell which ones she had tried to hide. The magazine at the bottom of the stack with a woman in leather and chains on the cover, or the book on the top of the bookshelf with a title something like "Encouraging submissive behavior through bondage". Small wonder where I got some of my fantasies! Then came that dreaded question, one that I knew she would ask sooner or later. Was I "prepared" for school. After all, it was tomorrow you know. Oh, I almost forgot mom! I was so afraid of not being prepared for school that I had let it happen, as if purposely. Summoning up my courage, I spoke. "I'm as ready as I'll ever be I guess." My mother wasn't impressed. "Here Sarah, I got a few things for you." She handed me a bag with a notebook, some pens, and few other basics in it. That was more than I was going to bring. But how could I? Go to school with nothing? What was I *doing* anyway? I was obviously starting to cry, by then. Mom came over and hugged me, patting me on the back. If only she could be there to help me, if only someone. How Jenny could abandon me like this was hard to imagine. Didn't she know how hard this was? That was the only thing I could think of, riding my bicycle to school the next day. Mom had offered to let me drive her car, a Mercedes convertible. There was no way! It stood for everything I despised: Money, power, and privilege. Besides that, what would the other students think of me? They would think that I'm a stuck up, rich, bitch. That's exactly what they would think. Lots of people had bikes, judging by how full the rack was at school. There was only 2 or 3 slots left by the time I got there. I rushed in through the large double doors, knowing I was probably late already. A woman sitting behind a large table at the door asked my name, then she handed me a folder full of stuff and pointed to my homeroom down the hall. My face felt the heat of a hundred eyes bearing down on me as I opened the classroom door. Being late the first day doesn't exactly make a good impression. Just as soon as I had gotten there, we were directed to the cafeteria where tables had been set up for each of courses that were being offered. It was pretty much the same way it had been in Nebraska, so I knew the routine. There were choices for sciences, mathematics, history and foreign languages. Everything except English. That was required. On my course schedule, I found an English class had been assigned to me already. Since I had plenty of credits from my last school, I could take pretty much what I wanted. There wasn't much. "French III" was the only sure thing; I knew Jenny was taking that and luckily there was only one French teacher. After signing up for the courses, we had a couple hours before "orientation" started. Enough time to wander around and check the place out, have lunch, and hopefully bump into Jenny somewhere along the way. I hadn't said much more than "hi" to anyone when I struck out in search of my locker which ended up being right across from the office door. Suddenly I noticed how dressed-up everyone was, except for myself. It looked more like a *runway* than a hallway, each young woman making her own "fashion statement" with her own designer threads, or for some, cheap imitations. Living with my mom had given me the wisdom to know the difference. And there *I* was, dressed entirely in denim, my hair tied up and tucked under a baseball cap. As I began putting books and things away in my locker I heard a familiar voice from behind me. It was Jenny's. I was so nervous, afraid to turn around and look even when I heard her whisper "There's Sarah". What I saw when I did finally turn around shocked me. There she was, in full cheerleader get-up! First there was the pleated skirt, alternating between white and the school color, burgundy. Then came the cleavage- revealing, glitter look, sleeveless top. Rah,Rah! I had to admit that I was really jealous. After all, Jennifer was beautiful. Her hair was done up in those same delicious French braids she had worn to my house that wonderful first day. Except for a slightly dark spot under one eye, her makeup was flawless. Unlike some of the younger girls that were giggling around her. When I looked into her eyes I felt the warm emotion flowing into me like the breeze through an open summer window. "Hi Sarah!" She smiled, acting as if everything was just fine. It wasn't. My head was half turned away when I answered. "Hi Jenny." Just as she started introducing me to her friends, I heard this loud group of guys coming down the hall. Sure enough, it was Tom and his cronies! I thought I would be sick when I saw him in his football uniform. About every 2 seconds someone had to punch his shoulder and say something like "Way to go Tom" or "State champions this year". All of their laughing and joking seemed to come to an abrupt end just about the same time Tom saw Jenny talking to me. "Hey babe." Tom spoke with a ridiculous "I'm Mr. Cool" voice. Only his tag-alongs were impressed. "We have to get going, the newspaper people are here to get our pictures." Jenny rolled her eyes back, trying to ignore him. It couldn't have been easy. "Sarah, this...is..mmm..my friend Cindy." She sounded frightened, and understandably so. In that uniform Tom seemed almost as wide as he was tall. Who would say "no" to someone like that? Tom put his hand on Jenny's shoulder. It wasn't there for long before Jenny politely removed it. I heard an "ooooh!" come out from behind Tom, but you couldn't see around him to see who it was. It was as if they were saying, "You're going to let her get away with that? You? *Big Tom*? The football star?" His face looked even meaner now. "I *said*...Lets go." I just had to say something, I didn't care who the hell this guy thought he was. "Can't you take a hint Tom, she obviously doesn't want to go with you." I started regretting saying anything when I saw the look on Tom's face as he stepped through the group of girls around me. "Are you talking to me." He pointed to himself, looking around at the crowd that was gathering. He kept coming closer and closer. "Leave her alone, Tom." Jenny begged. Tom chuckled. "*Her*? The tough guy?" He wasn't the first one to suggest I was a boy so I wasn't really bothered by the comment. Where I grew up I was the only girl in the neighborhood and it took plenty of wrestling matches to prove I was just as tough as the they were. I had even taken some self- defense classes at my dad's insistence, though nothing I could really use against Tom. I wasn't about to try pulling some kind of slick jump kick on someone that was three times my size. "You've got a big mouth." He barked, pointing his finger right into my breast so hard it pushed me back. I tried not to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much that hurt. The next time his finger came at me I deflected it easily, but the space between my back and the lockers had run out. At that point the whole world starting fading in and out. I could hear Jenny telling him over and over to leave me alone. I could smell alcohol on Tom's breath as he slowly moved closer and closer. At that point I wasn't thinking anymore, my survival instincts had taken over. I drove my knee right between Tom's legs with full force making him double over right in his tracks. By then several teachers and the principal had come out of nowhere asking what had happened. Tom was kneeling on the floor by that time and I was crying my eyes out. Nobody would say anything. Twenty people standing around and no one saw anything! A big guy in sweats ran up to Tom, he must have been the coach. "What the hell's going on here? Come on big guy, are you O.K.?" Tom's head nodded "yes" but through my teary eyes I could see different story. He wasn't O.K. at all. And it wasn't long before the football coach found out what had happened and not much longer after that before he was telling the principal to suspend me. "I want her out of here." He pushed the words through a narrow slit in his clenched teeth. Then they moved the conversation into the office along with Tom, but I could still barely hear it. I recognized the principal's wimpy voice. "Oh my, I just don't know what to do." "What the hell am *I* gonna do? Huh? If Tom can't play tomorrow, we're gonna loose." Suddenly a third voice cut in, one I didn't recognize. "That's your problem. Tell your *fucking* jock here to pick on some his own size and preferably his own gender." "Now, now, John. I'm sure we can come to an agreement here without arguing." "Carey doesn't give a shit if we win or loose. He doesn't give a shit if Tom gets that scholarship to Yale." "Yale? You know John, these scholarships to big schools *do* mean a lot for our image. And you know as well as I do, that...as the principal here, I really have to support that. We really do John." "How about some *FUCKING* *ACADEMIC* scholarships for a change of pace? Can you support that?" "A scholarship's a scholarship. It's *Yale* John. Yale for crying out loud! Nobody's going to ask what *kind* of scholarship. Last year we sent one to Harvard and one to Stanford. Makes us look really good John, really does." "I'm not passing any more *fucking* *jocks* who can barely spell their own name so we look good. No more." Then I heard stomping footsteps leaving the office. I had sat there on the floor against my locker the entire time, head on my knees, still shaking. I finally looked up to see Jenny standing there by herself. We both smiled at each other, then she sat down next to me and held me. It was a scene that always seemed to repeat itself. Jenny always coming to the rescue when I was the most hurt, she always seemed to be there when I needed her most. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Please keep this story, and all erotic stories out of the hands of children. They should be outside playing in the sun, not thinking about adult situations. Do your part to make our world a little safer. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Kristen's collection - Directory 11