TITLE    : The Sarah Owens Story Ch. 05
STORYID  : the-sarah-owens-story-ch-05
SUMMARY  : Sarah & her fellow cheerleaders do a trust-building exercise.
AUTHOR   : Cal Y. Pygia@lit
DATE     : 2009-12-01
CATEGORY : bdsm-stories
FLAGS    : 
TAGS     : |18-year-old|schoolgirl|cheerleader|fisting|spanking|


<i>Note: This series is based upon an idea by Sarah Owens. The characters in it are 18 years old or older.</i>



* * *



Reluctantly, Sarah had to admit, if only to herself, that, under the tutelage of Coach Bigg, the cheerleading squad had come a long way in the last couple of months. Sarah and her friends might have sore asses more often than not, either as a result of having just received a thorough caning or as because they were recovering from a sound thrashing, but, one thing was certain: their mistakes had become fewer and fewer, their athletic prowess greater and greater, and their finesse, grace, and style more and more impressive. For the first time since Coach Bigg had vowed to make them winners at this year's National High School Cheerleading Competition, Sarah and the others had begun to believe that, under Coach Bigg's direction and guidance, they really could accomplish this grand objective.



The girls had given up a lot: dating, leisure time, autonomy, even--Sarah shuddered as she remembered Principal Matthews and Coach Bigg watching as she and the other cheerleaders were fucked up the ass and cunt by the artificial penises that, at the press of a button, had risen from the spanking machine's platform. The Carousel, as the machine was known, not only revolved, offering Coach Bigg and any other spectators who might be present to watch the girls being put through their paces a view of each girl's private parts, but it also administered mild to extremely severe canings and fucked them vaginally or anally, or both vaginally and anally at the same time. In addition, each section of the platform could be rotated 180 degrees so that one girl's cunt and ass faced another girl, permitting analingus or cunnilingus at Coach Bigg's command. Sarah had had to lick Cindy Baxter's asshole, and Cindy had been made to do the same to Sarah's pussy, while both Coach Bigg and the other members of the cheerleading squad watched. Talk about humiliation! However, this incident, as mortifying as it had been at the time, had also had had a benefit, for Sarah, if not for Cindy: it had shown Sarah that she had strong, erotic feelings for members of her own sex. Since then, she'd found, she was unable to keep her eyes of the other girls, whether they were suiting up, practicing, or showering. But spanking, fucking, and oral sex were only some of the possibilities for degradation and punishment, apparently, that The Carousel provided, for Coach Bigg had intimated that the machine was capable of inflicting still other humiliating punishments upon the girls as they were positioned helplessly upon their elbows and knees, strapped in place at their leader's mercy.



Coach Bigg knew a lot about dominance and submission, as Sarah had found out when the coach had explained to her why she had signaled Sarah out for special abuse. "Because, among your peers, you are the alpha female, Owens," the coach had informed the cheerleader. "To dominate them, I have to dominate you. Moreover, I have to do so in as obvious a manner as possible; I have to rub your nose in your submissiveness, to show your friends that I'm the boss, and I have to keep on rubbing your nose in it to prove I am, and always will be, top dog." By implication, Coach Bigg's explanation seemed to imply that, were the coach to start treating Sarah the same as the other members of the squad, the coach would endanger her status as their superior. That wasn't about to happen, Sarah thought, any more than Coach Bigg was going to let them fail to compete in--and win--the Nationals this year.



Although none of the squad liked Coach Bigg, everyone respected and feared her. They were, in fact, terrified of her. Their trepidation notwithstanding, however, they also believed in her. Not one of the girls on the squad, Sarah included, doubted, even for a moment, that Coach Bigg would, in fact, see them through the Nationals as the competition's winners. All they had to do was to continue to do everything the coach demanded of them, without question or hesitation.



Today, in preparation for ultimately building a pyramid of one another's bodies, they were attempting a scorpion. They'd always been shaky at executing this stunt, and Sarah, like the other cheerleaders, was anxious about trying it again today. They knew that Coach Bigg would be watching their every move and that she wouldn't hesitate to punish even the smallest mistake. If any of them made an error, all of them would pay, and the way that they'd pay would be, as always, to be caned unmercifully by The Carousel. Maybe, in addition, they'd be double-fucked, cunt ands ass, in front of whichever audience Coach Bigg wanted to invite for the occasion, whether it was Principal Matthews again or, maybe, the dyke Dr. Fanner and her Amazonian assistant and girlfriend, Debbie Johnson. Personally, Sarah wouldn't be surprised if Coach Bigg was a butch lesbian herself and invited her femme to watch.



"All right, girls, listen up!" Coach Bigg called the squad to order. "I shouldn't have to tell you that the scorpion can be a dangerous stunt. We've worked too hard and come too far to have one of you break an arm or a leg at this late date, so pay attention, and focus on what you're doing." She paused, directing her baleful gaze at each of the squad members in turn. "I don't need to remind you what will happen if there are any screw-ups."



Sarah and the other girls gulped. Sarah could all but feel the biting sting of the cane on her bare bottom. Although she had received dozens, if not hundreds, of strokes of the supple bamboo rod during the months they'd trained under Coach Bigg's direction, Sarah, like her friends, dreaded the cruel instrument as much, if not more, than ever, and they would do anything to avoid its painful, slashing blows.



"All right, let's do this," Coach Bigg said, "and let's get it right the first time."



Sarah and Crystal Rogers were assigned to be bases; Rachelle Thomas, the lightest and lithest of the group, was delegated to the task of being the flyer. Standing on either side of, and facing, Rachelle, Sarah and Crystal stooped, Sarah presenting her left palm and Crystal her right, for Rachelle to step upon. Rachelle lifted her right leg, placing its foot on the other girls' palms, and Sarah gripped Sarah's ankle, while Crystal placed her left hand across the top of Rachelle's foot, to prevent it from rolling. As Rachelle pushed off from Sarah's and Crystal's shoulders while the bases shoved her upward, Karen Lewis, who was responsible for serving as the back spot, or back base, pushed hard against Rachelle's buttocks, assisting her in attaining upward momentum. As Rachelle rose, the girls extended their arms, and, in an instant, Rachelle was standing upon their hands, high above the other girls' heads. Reluctantly, Cindy Baxter, assigned the position of front spot, added her grip to that of Sarah's, supporting the main base's wrist.



Initially, Rachelle wobbled a bit, but the bases stabilized her, and Rachelle assumed the scorpion position, grasping the toe of her loose foot and bending her free leg upward, behind her body, bringing her toes close to the back of her head, and securing her foot in this position with her other hand, so that her figure resembled that of a scorpion's tale. The girls had succeeded in accomplishing the stunt; now, they must merely hold the position until Coach Bigg gave them the command to dismount. The feat had gone well, Sarah thought. She was glad that she'd been assigned the position of being one of the bases, rather than the flyer, because, this way, she could look up Rachelle's skirt without fear of being detected. Sure, the other girls wore the same Spankies and panties that Sarah wore under her cheerleader's skirt, but, even so, she was treated to the sight of Rachelle's well-turned thighs and to a glimpse of the flyer's firm buttocks.



The next thought Sarah had was simple: What happened?



One moment, Rachelle had been standing aloft, literally in the palms of her friends' hands; the next, she was flat on her back, on the padded practice mat. Sarah remembered Coach Bigg rushing forward, much faster than Sarah would have thought the massive woman would have been able to move, and, aided by Karen and Cindy, breaking Rachelle's fall--and Sarah was aware, also, of the terrible cramp in lower abdomen. With dread, Sarah realized that she'd ruined the stunt, because she'd experienced a painful menstrual spasm. No doubt, Coach Bigg would blame the cramp on Sarah's not having stretched enough during her warm-up exercises, although Sarah knew she had and, even she hadn't, a menstrual cramp had nothing to do with whether she'd stretched sufficiently before practice. Because of her, though, she and her fellow squad members, including even the girls who had not been involved in this particular stunt, would be taking another agonizing ride on The Carousel. The girls would probably shun her again, this time, maybe for good.



Coach Bigg's meaty hands gripped Rachelle's wrists as the bovine woman helped the cheerleader to her feet. "Are you all right?" the coach asked.



Damn! Sarah thought. The bitch actually sounded concerned, as if she cares. Maybe the coach was afraid, Sarah thought, that she'd lose one of her star cheerleaders.



Coach Bigg turned on the others who had been involved in the stunt. Although she glared at each of the bases in turn, it seemed to Sarah that the coach looked only at her. If looks could kill, Sarah thought, Sarah would be dead.



"I'm sorry, Coach," Sarah heard herself confess. "I had a cramp."



"A leg cramp?"



Sarah felt herself blush as she said, "A menstrual cramp. I moved, when the cramp hit me, and I guess I threw everyone else off balance."



"You should have told me you were on your period," Coach Bigg said, scowling.



"I'm sorry." Sarah would have mentioned her condition to the coach, since it did affect their practice, but she was afraid that, if she had, Coach Bigg would have insisted that Debbie Penn, who was the strongest of the girls on the squad, next to Sarah herself, serve as one of the bases, and, Sarah knew, Debbie was too terrified of their coach to want even to try the feat.



"Why didn't you?"



"I don't know."



"Yes, you do, Owens!" Coach Bigg snapped. "And, unless you want an extended session on The Carousel, for you and all the rest of the squad, you'll tell me."



"Coach?" Debbie spoke up.



"What is it?"



Debbie explained why Sarah had not told their trainer about her period.



"You're that afraid of me?" Coach Bigg demanded.



Debbie looked away. "Yes, ma'am. Of you, I mean, and The Carousel."



Coach Bigg looked more than angry; she looked like one of the Furies of ancient Greek mythology. All the girls averted their eyes, none wanting to see the wrath on their coach's face.



"Sarah should have trusted you to do the stunt," Coach Bigg said, "and you should have trusted yourself. If you think you're afraid of me and The Carousel, just wait until you're competing at the Nationals, and your every move is being scrutinized."



"I'm sorry," Debbie said.



"Sorry doesn't win national competitions," Coach Bigg said. She paused, looking at her squad. "Teamwork does, and the basis of teamwork isn't fear, it's trust. By rights, every one of you should be caned, and caned severely. But I have to accept some of the blame for this."



The girls hazarded a glance at the coach, not sure they'd heard her correctly. Was Coach Bigg, the Perfect and Flawless Holy One, admitting to a mistake? If so, the girls were perplexed. What had the coach done? It seemed to them that it was they--or, rather, Sarah, again, and maybe Debbie, who was at fault.



"You weren't ready for the scorpion," she said, "because you don't have the level of trust you need to be honest with one another--and with me." She paused again, seeming to deliberate, and then she announced, "This time, there will be no trip to the storeroom and no ride on The Carousel."



The girls looked relieved.



"Instead, we're going to practice a little exercise, one designed to foster trust, trust in ourselves and trust in one another."



The cheerleaders cast apprehensive glances at one another.



"Owens!" Coach Bigg barked. "Get on your hands and knees, flip up your skirt and pull down your Spankies and your panties."



Sarah started to argue, but she knew that her doing so would only ignite the coach's ire and, if she resisted the coach's instructions in any way, or even hesitated to obey, she might earn both herself and the rest of the squad a protracted ride on The Carousel, after all. Then, in addition to a severe caning, and possibly another double fuck, for everyone, she'd be ostracized by her friends for sure, probably for ever. There was no way she wanted that to happen.



She did as she was told, kneeling, flipping up her skirt, lowering her Spankies and panties, and dropping to her hands on the padded mat. She felt humiliated in the extreme, knowing all her friends' eyes were on her hairless vulva, her bald labia, her bare buttocks, and, for all she knew, her anus, if it were visible between the cheeks of her ass.



"Baxter, go to my office, and bring me the box of latex gloves on my desk. Also bring a couple of the jars of petroleum jelly in my top drawer."



Cindy sprinted away on the mission the coach had assigned her. While she was gone, Coach Bigg said, the rest of you, flip up your skirts, too, and lower your underwear. Then, assume the same position as Owens has assumed.



Without questioning the coach's orders, the rest of the cheerleaders did as they'd been instructed. When, a few minutes later, Cindy returned with the gloves, she, also, was made to assume the same position, with her skirt up and her underwear down.



Coach Bigg extracted a pair of the latex gloves from their box, and pulled them onto her forearms, tugging them snugly into place, and shoved the rubber tight between the webs of her thumbs and fingers. She took a generous amount of petroleum jelly from one of the huge jars Cindy had retrieved and daubed it between the lips of Sarah's pussy, being careful to lubricate the cheerleader's cunt with an ample amount of the slick, thick substance.



"Without changing your own positions," she told the squad, "watch and listen carefully as I demonstrate how to perform the trust-building exercise I show you, because, after my demonstration, each of you will partner with another squad member and perform the same exercise on one another."



Behind Sarah, the other girls looked uncomfortable. They shifted their gazes, gulped, and couldn't help but make quizzical faces at one another. Several of them shrugged. The coach's request for latex gloves and petroleum jelly and her insistence that they assume such a weird position, with their skirts up and their underwear down, didn't bode well, it seemed, for them.



Coach Bigg held up her right hand. "Notice how I have positioned my hand," she said, "with the fingers extended and close together, and the thumb, also extended, touching the tip of my forefinger, in a beak-like shape. This is known as the 'silent duck.' Let me see each of you replicate this shape."



The girls made the silent duck to the coach's satisfaction.



"Very good. Now, watch me carefully, and, taking turns, do to one another what I do to Owens."



Slowly, Coach Bigg slid the fingertips of her gloved hand into Sarah's pussy, the bright pink lips parting to show the watermelon-red interior of her sopping-wet cunt, and, as the duck's bill slid farther and farther into the moist, warm, well-lubricated orifice, the cheerleaders were astonished to see the entirety of the bovine coach's thick fingers plunge into Sarah's pussy. Only her hand, between the knuckles of the last knuckles of her vanished fingers and her wrist, remained outside the cheerleader's snatch. Slowly, with deliberation and care, the coach continued to press forward with her hand. Sarah grunted, adjusting her position. She spread her knees farther apart, and her buttocks divided, revealing the tiny dimple of her anus. Coach Bigg eased her hand forward, and more of it slid into the widened portal of Sarah's pussy. The outer lips--the labia majora--stretched wide, and the inner lips--the labia minora--opened, gaping, to admit still more of the coach's fist. The petroleum jelly glistened, as did the Sarah's own natural lubricating fluids.



Sarah groaned, letting her knees slip even farther apart on the mat, as the coach continued to press her fist into the cheerleader's pussy. Finally, the cheerleader's cunt had swallowed the coach's fist all the way to the wrist--and Coach Bigg's hand and wrist were at least twice the size as any of the cheerleaders'. It seemed impossible that she'd managed to insert it so far into Sarah's pussy, but she'd done so, and rather easily, at that, despite the tightness of the cheerleader's vagina. Until a week ago, when The Carousel's double-pronged dildo had fucked her (and the other girls) up both the cunt and the ass at the same time, Sarah had been a virgin. The only sex she'd had, as a God-fearing Catholic schoolgirl and a proper young lady, had been limited to masturbating one boy and giving another guy a blowjob. 



"Once the hand is fully inserted," Coach Bigg instructed her charges, "you can open the fingers, as you will find that, even with young women, such as yourselves, the vagina is very accommodating."



Slowly, but more quickly than she'd inserted her hand, the coach drew her arm back, and the teens watched her wrist, the back of her hand, and her fingers slide free of Sarah's gaping, wet pussy. "This trust-building exercise is known as fisting," the coach informed the squad. "Now, I want each of you to pair off and perform the same exercise on each other. Come on, girls! You needn't worry; there are plenty of gloves and petroleum jelly for all."



"But what about Sarah, Coach?" Cindy asked. "There are nine of us; she won't have a partner."



"Don't worry about Sarah," Coach Bigg said. "I'll make sure she's not left out."



Cindy couldn't conceal the disgust she felt at the thought that Sarah might have to fist Coach Bigg--in front of the rest of them!--as the coach had fisted her. Cindy might not like Sarah all that well, not after she'd had to lick her cunt and Sarah had licked her asshole--but not even Sarah deserved abuse of that sort, she thought.



As it turned out, though, Coach Bigg had something else in store for Sarah, just as she did for all the rest of the girls.



When the last couple had performed the trust-building exercise to Coach Bigg's satisfaction, she said, "You did well, squad, in completing the first exercise. Let's see how well you complete its counterpart."



Cindy looked at her partner, Karen Lewis. "Counterpart?"



Karen looked sick. Neither she nor Cindy had enjoyed fisting each other, and they were pretty sure that none of the other girls had liked doing so, either. None of them, Cindy believed, was interested in a "counterpart" to the so-called trust-building exercise.



"Be just as generous, if not more so, in lubricating your partner's anus as you were in lubricating her vagina," Coach Bigg advised her charges. "Don't worry about supplies; I have plenty more petroleum jelly on hand in my office, should we need it."



Having imparted these instructions to the squad, the coach demonstrated, spreading half a handful of the substance in and around Sarah's asshole as the cheerleader whimpered and moaned, trying not to wriggle or squirm. "You might want to smear some of the jelly on your glove as well," the coach added, as she covered her own with an additional amount. "Once you have thoroughly lubricated her anus, begin with the same silent duck configuration, and, carefully and slowly, giving your partner's anal sphincter time to adjust, to relax, and to open, insert your hand through her anus and into her rectum."

<hr pg="2" />The coach demonstrated, once again, on Sarah, working her hand slowly and carefully between the teen's sleek, firm buttocks and through the cheerleader's expanded asshole until she was wrist-deep inside the girl's bowels. Sarah shifted her weight, shuffling from one knee to the other, and gasped and moaned, but she didn't seem to be in any genuine distress.



A half an hour later, when each of the four couples had likewise fisted one another anally, Coach Bigg smiled at them--the first time any of them had ever seen her do such a thing--and complimented them again on their performance of the exercise. "The next time we do the scorpion, I don't think we'll have any problems, even if Sarah or one of the rest of you happens to be on her period." She surveyed each of her charges, satisfied that the girls had learned a valuable lesson about trusting both themselves and each other. "You have twenty minutes to hit the showers, ladies," she told them, "before you report back here."



The teens ran for the locker room.



"I can't believe we did what we did," Susan declared as she soaped her body, scrubbing especially vigorously at her pussy and between the cheeks of her ass. She felt corrupted, perverted, dirty.



"I can't either," Jennifer remarked. She'd been the one to fist Susan, just as Susan had inserted her hand, to the wrist, up both Susan's cunt and rectum. She shivered at the thought, scouring her pussy and asshole a second time, although she'd washed them more vigorously than ever just a few seconds ago,



"That was beyond nasty," Rachelle agreed, washing her twat and anus vigorously.



Sarah, who couldn't seem to bathe enough between either her thighs or her buttocks, shivered. "At least none of you had Coach Bigg's hand inside you, the way I did."



"I guess you're just lucky," Cindy snapped.



Sarah glared at her. Until now, Sarah had bitten her tongue at her fellow cheerleader's taunts and jibes, but Cindy's insults were wearing thinner and thinner, especially after the ordeal Sarah had just suffered at the hands--or, rather, the hand--of their coach. Maybe it had been Sarah's fault that they'd been caned the first time, but it had been Cindy's screw-up that had earned them their latest session on The Carousel, and maybe Sarah had enjoyed licking Cindy's ass, but she'd been forced to do so as much as Cindy had been compelled to lick Sarah's pussy. It wasn't fair of Cindy to blame everything on her, and Sarah had had about all she was going to take from her fellow squad member.



"Why don't you give it a rest, Cindy?" Karen suggested.



"Yeah, you've been on Sarah's case for months now," Becky agreed.



"You may have had to lick her twat," Crystal pointed out, "but Sarah got the worse of it--she had to lick your asshole."



"It's time to let bygones by bygones," Becky said.



Cindy sighed. Looking at Sarah, she said, "I'm sorry."



"That's okay," Sarah said, "but, please, let's bury the hatchet, okay?"



"Friends?" Cindy asked.



"Friends," Sarah agreed, and, naked and sudsy, their gleaming bodies running with water, the girls embraced. Cindy's naked body, wet and slippery, felt so wonderful that Sarah would have liked to hug her forever, bosom to bosom, but, after a couple of seconds, the girls parted, smiling.



"It's good to be friends again," Cindy admitted.



"Yes, it is," Sarah agreed.



"We'd better hurry," Rachelle reminded them. "We only have seven minutes left before we have to be back."



Sarah was worried about the extended time of today's practice session. She hadn't asked permission from her parents to stay longer after school today, and her father, in particular, was a stickler for punctuality; he wouldn't like it if Sarah were late coming home, especially since she hadn't called in advance to ask permission to return later than she was normally permitted to stay after school for cheerleading practice--and she couldn't very well tell her mom and dad that she couldn't call them because her coach had had her hand buried in her pussy and up her ass. If she was late, though--well, her dad, a staunch Catholic who believed that to spare the rod was to spoil the child, might not have The Carousel to assist him, but he could lay it on well enough with just a belt or a paddle or, if he were angry enough, both.



When the girls, dressed in their regular outfits, rather than their cheerleading uniforms, returned to the practice area, Coach Bigg was waiting with a tall, slender redhead beside her, whom she introduced as Marilyn Madison. Introducing the redhead to the girls, the coach informed them that Marilyn would be the newest member of the squad. "She just transferred to South Catholic High School from Fillmore, where she was a member of the varsity cheerleading squad. Fillmore's cheerleaders were the first runners-up at the Nationals last year, so we're very fortunate to have Marilyn on our team."



The other girls weren't so sure, it seemed to Coach Bigg, but what they thought or felt was immaterial. Marilyn Madison was an asset they couldn't afford to pass up. Besides, in the few minutes during which the coach had spoken to the cheerleader, she had understood that she and Marilyn were on the same wavelength when it came to ideas about training and, for that matter, boys.



"Marilyn and I agree that cheerleaders ought not to date," Coach Bigg told the squad, "so, from this moment on, I forbid any of you to go out with any boys. Judging by the blood I saw on The Carousel, that hasn't been a problem for some of you." She meant the blood that the virgins had left on the spanking machine's platform after they'd been deflowered by the double-pronged vaginal-anal phalli. Sarah and been among those who'd lost her virginity to The Carousel, and there were others, too, she knew, because Sarah had had to clean up the mess that she and the other girls had made, both the blood and the pussy juices. 



"In fact," Coach Bigg declared, "Marilyn and I think it in the best interest of the squad that each of you adopt another squad member as her lesbian girlfriend. After all, I'd be naïve to believe that you can suppress the sex instinct entirely; you'll need an acceptable, alternative outlet to boys."



Despite the girls' fear of their coach, this announcement set tongues wagging.



Coach Bigg silenced her charges. "By giving up boys in favor of one of your own as your lover, each of you will build even better rapport with one another and be even more interested in acting as a team. Sarah, your girlfriend will be Marilyn; the rest of you are free to choose as you please, but, like the Spartans of ancient Greece, each of you must choose, here and now, a lover of the same sex, from among yourselves."



As the other girls eyed one another warily, not sure whether winning even the Nationals was worth becoming lesbians, even if only for the rest of the year, Marilyn, smiling broadly, strolled through the other cheerleaders, stopped inches in front of Sarah, and planted a long, deep, open, wet kiss on the teen. Sarah's heart--and her pussy--melted at once, and she kissed her girlfriend back with every bit as much fervor as Marilyn showed her, darting her tongue into the redhead's mouth as her hands found, clutched, squeezed, and fondled Marilyn's buttocks, the same way the other girl found, clutched, squeezed and fondled her own ass. Sarah's pussy was a river which had burst a dam, and the flood of its waters surged and flowed, an unstoppable deluge of passion that wet her panties and her jeans, publicly declaring the ardor that engulfed and overwhelmed her soul.



In Marilyn's tight embrace, their tongues and arms entwined, their fingers everywhere, Sarah forgot, for the moment, the spanking that most like awaited her at home, to be delivered by hand, by paddle, or by belt--or, perhaps, by all three instruments, depending on the measure of her father's ire.

