FB-132  Teacher Loves It
[aka 'Teacher's Spanking Lesson']
(Grace Miller)


FOREWORD 

Candide is a book that has been read in many languages throughout the world 
for well over a century. It was written by the French philosopher and 
literary genius Voltaire who, it is said, locked himself in a room for three 
days to write the book in its entirety. The tale follows the far flung 
adventures of a simple, naive lad named Candide, who is cast out of his 
quarters and his job for the sin of allowing the beautiful and experienced 
daughter of his employer to seduce him. He travels far and wide, in and out 
of the company of his old teacher, Dr. Pangloss, the beautiful seductress, 
and a host of minor characters. In his travels he bears witness to women 
joyfully coupling with apes, Popes who spread venereal disease, pirates who 
turn women's buttocks into flank steaks, and all manner of violence from 
earthquakes to shipwrecks, from murder to robbery, from kidnapping to 
mayhem. As we have implied from the worldwide acceptance of Candide, it is a 
great book, well-paced and well-written, action-packed as any half hour 
television show of today's times. Filled with violence and sex as it is, 
Candide is in the final analysis a humorous book which subtly shows that 
man, at his best, is happiest at home, tending his garden, innocently but 
firmly believing that he lives in the best of all possible worlds. 

These are simple beliefs, ones which can be stated in just a few lines of 
prose. Those few lines would be read and forgotten, but Voltaire's Candide 
lives on through the ages to make its point upon countless millions of 
people. 

Crime and Punishment is a book that is much the same. Dostayevsky stated the 
entire premise of the book in the three words of its title, and yet there is 
so very much more to the hundreds of pages of prose to more subtly make his 
point, to examine the true motives behind a criminal act, the real standards 
of its consequences. 

These are works of fiction, meant to entertain as well as to enlighten. 
Today we read a great deal in psychology books about the reward and 
punishment system as used in learning institutes, penal institutes, and in 
everyday life. We read a great deal about it, that is, if we are psychology 
book fans. Most of us are not. The majority of the reading we do is for 
pleasure, and any small lesson we might learn from the works of fiction we 
peruse is some small bonus, not to be refused, nor to be forgotten, either. 

This book, Teacher's Spanking Lesson, while not literarily comparable with 
the genius works of Voltaire or Dostayevsky, is much the same as those 
books, for it is an entertaining approach to the foibles and fantasies, the 
pleasures and pains of reward and punishment. Set in a contemporary time, 
and within a flawed contemporary place, its characters are equally flawed, 
even as you and I. Those in charge of meting out the rewards and punishments 
are handicapped by typical twentieth century emotional problems, and those 
others who are recipients of the pleasures and the deprivations that some 
psychologists recommend as mass therapy are indeed so strong in this story 
that they can accept or reject their just desserts at will. The jailors are 
the prisoners and the prisoners the jailors, with an intermingling of the 
two, compounded by those nasty little emotional problems we mentioned, that 
makes the entire situation appear to be totally hopeless for all involved. 

Total hopelessness, violence, sex, and a doll-up of humor thrown in--what 
could make for a better evening's entertainment? 

-The Publisher 

 CHAPTER ONE 

"She's just not going to make it here," said Martha Wilkes, the cook at The 
Pines Experimental School for Boys. "I've seen her, and she's just not the 
type to make it with a bunch of sexy little rowdies like you two." 

Martha was in her large, modern kitchen, where she prepared all the food for 
the twenty students inmates of school for junior high school recalcitrants, 
and her audience consisted of Rusty and Jimmy, the two boys who had drawn 
the very pleasant duty of assisting her on that day. They were both fifteen 
years old, the average age for boys who'd been sent to The Pines by the 
authorities. Martha was thirty-eight years old, a woman of medium height, 
with wildly curly brown hair, a good-natured smile when she chose to wear 
it, and a figure so bounteous that it came close to being downright fat. She 
had massive haunches and breasts, but her waist was relatively narrow and 
her legs were good. They were strong legs, just as her arms were strong, and 
she liked nothing better than to get those strong arms and legs around the 
body of a male, be he eight years old or eighty, just as long as he was old 
enough to have life in his prick. 

She was dressed in a starched green cotton uniform with yellow collar and 
cuffs on its short sleeves, which was marked with perspiration stains from 
her efforts over the big pot of stew she was brewing. The uniform dress 
buttoned down the front, and the top two buttons were open, revealing a big 
expanse of creamy white upper bosom, slightly mottled with pink, and four 
inches of the deep cleft between her truly immense breasts. Rusty's and 
Jim's attentions centered more on this cleavage than it did on the menial 
tasks she'd assigned them. 

She went on as she spiced the stew, saying, "No baby-faced blonde like that 
one is going to make it here. No, sir. She tries to look like a China doll 
with those big blue eyes and those rosebud lips, and you can tell she's just 
not tough enough to make it with a bunch of kids the likes of you. Only 
reason Mr. Sloane hired her was because of her looks. He'll be sorry for 
that. She's going to get you boys all horny, and then your principal won't 
know how to handle you--but I will. Get me a cigarette, Rusty. My hands are 
all wet. They're right in my pocket. Go on." 

"Sure, Martha!" said the shorter of the two boys, the one with the carrot 
colored hair. 

Jim, half-peeled potato in hand, came around to grin and watch while little 
Rusty slipped his hand inside the pocket on Martha's tight skirt and groped 
around for the package of cigarettes. 

Martha grinned at the red-haired boy, her eyes on a level with his, and 
said, "What're you trying to do, Rusty? Tickle me half to death?" 

"I'm just trying to find the matches," he said with an impish grin. "I'm 
sure sorry if it tickles you." 

"Damn right it tickles me. I didn't wear no panties tonight. No bra, either. 
And I can really feel your little fingers squirming around down there, you 
devil." 

Rusty continued to tickle and delve inside the pocket that was directly over 
the cook's left thigh. Jim came up from the other side, grinning very 
broadly, and said, "Is there anything I can do for you, Martha?" 

"It's gettin' awful hot in here. Whew! Yeah, you could open up a couple more 
buttons on my dress and wipe some of the sweat off my big old boobs." 

"Oh, boy!" Jim said, and grinned exultantly at Rusty as he quickly popped 
open the plump cook's dress to her waist. 

She had lovely big breasts so firm that they pushed right out through the 
confines of her opened uniform right away. They were massive, bulbous 
breasts, as fat and round as they could be, with heavily globular 
undersides, enormous brownish-pink nipples, just getting erect, and upper 
slopes that bulged creamy and smooth. Jim's eager hands played over them 
while Martha stirred the stew. Her breasts were so big that they couldn't 
point straight ahead, but angled outward to her sides in a wall-eyed 
fashion. Jim hefted their considerable weight and probed their smooth 
softness and pulled at their generous nipples to his heart's content while 
Martha smiled her encouragement. On her other side, Rusty continued to play 
about her thighs with his busy fingers inside her pocket, while with his 
other hand he explored the vast bulging smoothness of her expansive bottom. 
Each of the boys in his excitement was pressing his hard little pecker, 
confined within his school uniform, against one of Martha Wilkes big thighs. 
She felt very good, very desirable, and she was aglow with the knowledge 
that it wouldn't be long until she got some nice, good sexual satisfaction 
from these two virile young boys, and plenty of it. 

"You got to be tough to make it at The Pines, and this Carolyn whatsername 
just isn't that kind of a woman. Did I say woman ? She's only a girl, even 
if she is twenty-six, and she might have a degree from some college, but she 
doesn't look smart enough to wipe her own ass." 

"Is she little?" Rusty asked. "Is she shorter than I am?" 

"Nobody's shorter than you are. She's sort of tall, as a matter of fact. 
You'd just about come up to her titties, and she's got nice ones, but she 
probably wears cheaters. Mmmm-m-m-m. That's starting to feel good. Why don't 
you get your heads together, you two, and get yourself a little cream. 
That's it, you greedy little pigs. Milk me, milk me." 

She stopped stirring the stew, looked down and smiled at the brown head and 
the red head hovering in front of her bulging breasts. Each of these 
well-trained kitchen helpers was sucking noisily on one of her nipples, and 
the sensations of deep pleasure rose in her mature body. She indulged 
herself further by setting aside her stirring spoon and reaching down to 
squeeze and fondle the two hard peckers at each of her flanks. 

Martha Wilkes was quite adept at playing with the penises of young boys. She 
knew just how hard and how long to fondle their organs, knew exactly how 
much to excite them, and could drive them to distraction with her plump 
little hands and leave them just short of creaming in their jeans. She 
played no favorites among the score of boys at the state-run school. She had 
played with each and every one of their hard little peckers at one time or 
another and she knew the idiosyncrasies of each of them. These two boys, 
Rusty and Jim, were both possessed of very nice-sized peckers for their age, 
and it was with some difficulty that Martha prolonged this delicious 
playtime and refrained from getting it on all the way with them immediately. 

"Suck those old titties, you greedy little mutts," she said, pulling peckers 
and getting wonderfully dizzy with the hot feelings rising through her plump 
body. "Get me all hot and bothered, you know how much I love it. Little 
devils, you might as well go ahead and unbutton my dress all the way, 'cause 
I'm just getting awful hot." 

Two hands fumbled together to pop open the remaining buttons of Martha's 
dress as she stood before the stove with clouds of steam rising from the 
fragrant concoction. Her slightly protuberant belly was bared by the two 
sucking, nursing boys, and when her dress was opened to her loins, she 
shrugged and wriggled her shoulders and shucked off the uniform to stand 
naked before them. 

Her pussy was shaven completely bare. It bulged very prominently under the 
softer bulge of her belly. It was a big, fat pussy, with very plump bulges 
at each side of the deep, long slit that disappeared down under her pubic 
curve. The round, full nubility of her thighs pressed those two big bulges 
inward, making the slit even deeper as she stood there with her two little 
helpers happily sucking her breasts and playing around her crotch and 
buttocks with their hands. They knew her too, and knew just where she liked 
to be touched. 

She had a big bottom, with buttocks separated by the crack that made the 
size of her pussy crack seem dainty in comparison. She liked to be touched 
there. 

"Let's get those peckers out," she said, pulling at the tabs of their 
zippers. "Jesus, you got me so hot I don't know what I'm doin'. Tongue me 
up, brats. Lick me and suck me good while I get those peckers out." 

With eager obedience, Rusty and Jim licked all over those great big tits of 
hers. They were panting, wild-eyed in their excitement, hands trembling on 
her big, lush body while she leisurely opened their pants. She pulled down 
the zipper tabs, then simultaneously opened both their belts and let their 
jeans fall to the floor around their ankles. "Nice and hard for your 
favorite girl friend," she said. Now, with a naked prick in each hand, and 
able to rub their bare, oozing wet heads against the naked flesh of her 
yielding thighs, she was feeling better than ever. 

"I'll tell you, I can hardly wait to get those two peckers in me," she said. 
"Trouble is, I just don't know which of you to take on first. I guess it'll 
be whoever's nicest to me," she said, and reluctantly released her hold on 
their pricks to put her arms about their shoulders and hug their heads and 
mouths closer to her throbbing, pulsing tits. 

She had them half mad with excitement already, but that wasn't enough for 
her. She hummed a little song and jiggled and twisted her body, bouncing her 
big, bare tits as they licked and sucked them, quivering her ass and loins 
for their hotly groping hands. She guided their hot, hungry mouths to her 
shaven armpits, then lifted her arms above her head and closed her eyes and 
grinned as they Frenched her there in that sensitive area, just as she'd 
taught them. 

She looked down at them, as they vied to be best at kissing and licking her 
beautiful tits and her smoothly shaven armpits. "That new teacher might be 
young and good-looking, but you sure as hell won't have this kind of fun 
with her unless you make her do it. She's one of those tight-assed college 
girls who doesn't know a thing about pleasuring a boy, let alone a couple of 
young men like you. She'll let you look at her all you want, but you can't 
touch, and that's okay with me. You get yourselves all hot and bothered 
looking at that dumb, doll-faced blonde, and then you come to momma for your 
fun. 

"Oooooooo. You're gettin' to me. Bite 'em a little and make them stand right 
up and beg for more. Make me feel . . . Ouch! Rusty, you little bastard, not 
so hard! Just for that, Jimmy gets to do me first. Go on, Jimbo, go on and 
do me real good, real good. Yes, yes, yes-s-s-s-s-s." 

Panting very hard, the well-trained boy began kissing lower on Martha's 
swaying body. Soon he was down on his knees beside her, covering her big 
haunch with kisses, pawing her curvaceous big bottom with one hand and 
fingering within the deep slit of her pussy with the other. She was already 
terrifically wet, and his fingers slipped and slid with ease over the little 
button of her clitoris, hidden deep within the steamy crack of her cunt. The 
crack of her ass was moist with her perspiration, and Jim used both hands to 
feel around both her holes as he continued to madly kiss her, in the groove 
of her loin, exuberant because he'd been chosen to be the first to take his 
pleasure with her on that day. Martha ruffled his hair and said, "Come on, 
honey. Love me up real nice. Show Martha how much you love her, how sexy she 
is, and what a good little lover she's made out of you." 

She winked at Rusty, still grinding his hot prick against her thighs, and 
said, "Get on down there and kiss my pussy like a good boy. It's hot as 
melted butter and twice as sweet. Ahhh. Ahhh-h-h-h. Oh, baby, you really 
know how to lick off a woman." She awkwardly parted her legs and at the same 
time drew Rusty into a deep, open-mouthed kiss. 

"Between the two of you, you're going to make me cum all over the place," 
she said against Rusty's eager mouth. "Jesus Christ, I just can't hardly 
wait for it any more," said the big, heavily panting woman, and holding 
Jim's head where it was with a handful of his hair, she backed up until her 
big bare bottom was against the maple meat-chopping block. 

"Help me up here, boys," she said, and in a moment her ass was on the flat 
wooden surface and she could comfortably lie down. 

Her legs were widely separated, one of them dangling toward the floor, and 
the other crooked up with her ankle hooked over the edge of the block. Still 
Jim was kissing her big, open, wet cunt, and she reveled in the knowledge 
that he'd go right on with it until she'd given him leave to stop. 

"Okay, lover, sock it to me now, and Rusty, you get up here and give me 
something to chew on." 

Face smeared with her aromatic juices, panting as if he'd just run forty 
laps, Jim got quickly to his feet, took his hard, stiff prick in hand and 
guided it right home, right up within that deep crack of her cunt and into 
the heat of her waiting, throbbing hole. Little Rusty was almost equally 
quick in jumping up on the countertop, getting down on his knees on it, and 
presenting his hard prick just above her smiling, sweating face. As Jim 
began to vigorously fuck her, Martha languidly licked her lips, pursed them, 
and blew her warm breath against Rusty's prick. It jerked and bounced at the 
contact of this warm breeze while the boy knelt there, biting his lips and 
clutching his thighs in his excitement. 

BAM! Right away, Jimmy was cumming in her twat. It came along so fast that 
she almost wasn't ready for it, but then she quickly clamped down with the 
well-used muscles of her cunt in a rhythmic fashion which milked and sucked 
every last bit of loving goodness from the boy's eagerly pounding pecker. 
She felt very loved, very good, but she'd be feeling better still as things 
wore on. 

"Your turn, honey," she said. "See if you can do me as nice as Jimmy did, 
Rusty." 

The two boys quickly changed positions while Martha lay there stretching 
luxuriously. A moment after she'd given the command, Rusty was down on his 
knees on the floor, avidly licking her big twat, while Jim was up on his 
knees on the chopping block, his prick only half hard as she played with it 
with her hand and kissed it with her cushiony big lips. 

"Lick me good, 'cause I'm awful hot. Lick me good and then you can fuck me 
good." 

She giggled and said, "I wish that David Sloane could see me now. He'd 
probably knock you two boys on your keesters and jump me himself. He can't 
get enough of me. Wants to fuck and suck me all the time, fuck and suck, 
fuck and suck. Rusty, give it to me, just like David does, just like your 
snooty principal does." 

She began lustily sucking on Jim's prick, while Rusty got to his feet to get 
his turn at her waiting, pulsing, grabbing twat. She felt glorious, all warm 
and buttery inside, just as if David Sloane really was fucking her. Drunk on 
sexual stimulation, she could almost see his handsome face before her and 
she forgot all about her former concern over his hiring a younger and 
admittedly more beautiful woman to work at the school. Though the boy on the 
chopping block with her was moaning at the hard sucking she was giving his 
sensitive cock, still she sucked on it, knowing in her heart it didn't taste 
as good and manly as David Sloane's, but still pretending it was his. 

She felt it pulse and she took Jim's freshly hardened prick from her mouth, 
at the same time wrapping her strong legs around little Rusty's waist. "CUM! 
MAKE ME CUM!" she cried, as the prick before her started to spout, as down 
below Rusty filled her twat with his juice, and as she reached down and got 
her finger on the quick of her clit to masturbate herself. 

She lay back, sighing. "Wonderful, just wonderful loving. No woman'll ever 
make you feel as good as I do, I don't care how good-lookin' she is. I'll be 
the best for you all your lives. Oh! Oh! Oh, I love you both, I love all of 
you brats. You make me feel so good," she said, as she licked up the cum 
from her lips and hugged one boy with her arms and the other with her legs, 
blissful, content, beautiful, the Queen of The Pines. 

CHAPTER TWO 

Carolyn Holm stifled a groan as she woke in her hard, cold, narrow bed, 
ready for her first day's work as a teacher at The Pines. There was an extra 
blanket in the closet of the little cabin she'd been issued, but she hadn't 
used it during the night; her new principal, Mr. Sloane, had offered to 
obtain a softer, wider bed for her, but she'd refused it; she wanted no 
favors, and she welcomed the spartan life she'd be living in this school 
which had been converted from a forestry prison camp. She had sinned and 
suffered for it, and she knew she had to suffer more before she could 
forgive herself for what she'd done at her last job. 

She threw back the single cover and rose from the bed, clad from neck to toe 
in a shapeless flannel nightgown, unadorned by even a bit of lace on its 
high neck or its long sleeves. Her long blonde hair fell in soft curls well 
down past her shoulders, her smooth face was expressionless as she threw 
open the window and breathed in the chilly, pine-scented air. 

Her teeth were chattering and her nipples were up hard, chafing against the 
soft flannel, but still she stood there, practicing deep breathing while she 
counted to five hundred, then turned about and touched her toes fifty times 
in rapid succession. 

Her very shapely fanny pushed back at the flannel as her firm, pointed 
breasts swung downward. Her fingers touched her slightly blue toes, then 
reached toward the rough-sawed planks that formed her ceiling, and the 
process was repeated, over and over, without a single grunt, with no change 
in her placidly contained expression. 

She went into the bathroom, a fairly commodious place, since it formerly 
served four hardened camp workers, and she shucked off the flannel nightie 
and stepped into the stall shower without so much as giving herself a glance 
in the mirror over the sink. 

Carolyn had to clamp her jaws firmly shut to still the chattering now, for 
the water she used was cold, one more penance on her road to 
self-forgiveness. The soap that glided over her tall, flawless body was 
scented, a luxury she decided she'd give up as soon as this bar was gone, a 
luxury that was a faint reminder of her past sins at Miss Trowbridge's Young 
Lady's School. 

Her curly blonde-furred crotch was soaped thoroughly but quickly, as were 
her breasts, very full and round, almost out of proportion to her long, 
narrow waist, but well-balanced by a bottom that was almost embarrassingly 
rounded and back-thrusting. Gooseflesh was all over her creamy pale skin, 
not unlike a million tiny breasts, and quite as sensitive. Stepping out of 
the shower she made the toweling as brief and vigorous as possible and was 
done with it before even the faintest glow of warmth could creep in on her 
frigid flesh. 

She dressed as primly as she could, wishing she'd brought along some plain 
cotton underwear instead of the frilly things that Iris had talked her into 
buying. On top of the ruffles and laces, she donned a blue dress, a shade 
paler than her eyes. She'd let the hem out till it came to just above her 
dimpled knees, and she'd added a heavy lace bodice that covered the upper 
swells of her too prominent breasts and extended up to the base of her pure, 
white throat. 

Expressionless before the mirror, she brushed out her hair into long, soft 
waves, then bunched it and rolled it and pinned it in a tight bun on the 
back of her neck. Her makeup case was there, and for a moment she toyed with 
the notion of applying some eye shadow and liner. That might be appreciated 
by the poor, isolated boys who she was to teach, even though she'd vowed to 
use no makeup at all for the next year. 

On this matter she compromised, and put on a thin film of pink lip gloss, 
just to cover the blue in her soft lips. With a coat bundling her up, she 
left the little cottage and headed for the mess hall, hoping she'd be the 
first to arrive. 

The mess hall was bare, stark, and the only signs of life in it were the 
clouds of steam rising from behind the long utensil cabinet that separated 
the dining area from the serving area. As she went to get her food, she 
heard the sound of laughter, low and throaty, and it warmed her that people 
had good times at The Pines. 

Rounding the cabinet, Carolyn saw the camp cook, whom she'd briefly met 
before, horse-playing with one of the students. It looked like something a 
bit more than horseplay, but it ended the moment she rounded the corner and 
she was ashamed of herself for even thinking that anything might occur 
between the plump, middle-aged cook and the rosy-cheeked boy who was helping 
her. 

Carolyn tried to be pleasant to them both as she carried a tray past the 
steam tables, but the cook gave her an early morning unpleasant scowl along 
with her oatmeal and the boy gave her an even more unpleasant leer. 

Seated across the room, she knew she'd encounter a lot of those leers, for 
boys of his age were just beginning to notice the female of the species, and 
though she might be their instructress she was still a female. She knew she 
would have to remain entirely businesslike with the boys, playing no 
favorites in class, and associating only with Mr. Sloane and Mrs. Wilkes, 
once she'd gained their friendship and once she'd made it perfectly clear to 
Mr. Sloane that there could never be the slightest romantic involvement 
between them. 

Carolyn's contract called for her to teach four subjects each day. Mr. 
Sloane taught the same number of classes, so that each of them had half the 
students in their classrooms all the time. In addition, Mr. Sloane carried 
out the administrative duties in his office. 

Carolyn's first class was mathematics, and she was nervous as meeting time 
approached. She sat at her little desk at the head of the class, head down 
and knees primly together, for the desk was nothing more than a table and 
her legs could be seen by everyone in the class. 

The room was warming up by the time she heard the boys filing rather noisily 
into the classroom, and still she didn't look up. She wanted to establish an 
image of the cool, unflappable, all business teacher, and then perhaps warm 
to them a bit once she had them in firm control. She just went through the 
text book, underlining salient points, controlling her own nervousness while 
the typical giggling and whispering went on, plus the roughhousing and 
running about that boys engage in. She was patient. 

She waited until the boys had quieted themselves before she raised her head, 
thinly smiling, and introduced herself. 

They were indeed a rough-looking lot. All in the same faded blue denim garb, 
they had the look of convicts about them as they grinned at her, trying to 
look lecherous, and if it hadn't been for their apple cheeks and tousled 
hair she'd have felt real fear clutching at her instead of the wheedling 
finger of apprehension that tickled in her tummy. 

"The lesson today starts on page forty-six," she said, rising to turn toward 
the blackboard. "We are going to study short-cut means of multiplication and 
. . . ." 

Chalk in hand, just turning to the board, she froze, for there on the big 
black slate was a crude but recognizable drawing of her that was of a 
shockingly obscene nature. It was largely a stick figure, but the 
out-thrusting breasts and the smartly rounded bottom were there, plus the 
oval of her face, the very wide eyes and the schoolmarm bun on the back of 
her head. She was naked. Her nipples stood out like beckoning fingers, and 
her pubic mound, covered with bushy hair and split with a slit, protruded 
forward and dripped heavily with chalked droplets. There was an idiotic 
smile on her pictured face and all around her were stick figures of men, 
boys, each of them grinning like a fool and equipped with out-landishly big 
genital organs, all of which were in a rigid condition, all of which pointed 
straight at her, spitting more droplets of filthy sexual exudations. 

Her cheeks blazed hotly as she faced her grinning students and her finger 
trembled as she pointed behind her at the board. "Who did that? Who would do 
such a terrible thing?!?" 

All ten hands were raised at once, and Carolyn gasped at this show of 
blatant defiance and whirled to erase the crude, disgusting drawing. There 
was no eraser to be found. She skittered up and down in front of the 
classroom looking for it while the boys guffawed and catcalled, compounding 
her acute distress. 

"I'd sure like to multiply with you, teacher!" 

"Show us the short-cut to your pussy!" 

"I got something in my pants you can erase that with!" 

"Hey, big tits, let's fuck!" 

"She wears cheaters!" 

"I'll bet she don't!" 

"I know somebody says she does, wise guy!" 

"Hey, big tits, let's fuck!" 

She whirled and faced them again, fighting back the tears, trembling with 
rage and humiliation, and still they catcalled and insulted her. Patience, 
patience, she thought, for this is a part of your penance. She counted her 
racing heartbeats, tried to ignore her burning cheeks and cringing belly, 
until at last they were silent--silent but smirking. 

"Wh-whoever did that, whoever hid the eraser, I want him to come up here and 
get rid of that awful thing. Do it now and there'll be nothing more said 
about it, and we can go on to the learning process that's so impo . . . ." 

"FUCK YOU!" 

It came from the back of the class, but she couldn't see from where. She 
wanted to stamp her foot and rage, she wanted to tell the little baboons 
exactly what she thought of them, but instead she calmly repeated her offer 
of amnesty, adding, "I'm going to put my head down on my desk, and when I 
raise it that disgusting thing is going to be gone from the blackboard. Then 
we'll all start to learn together." 

She went to her desk and placed her head in her arms, welcoming this respite 
from the very verge of tears. She'd never been so mortified in her 
life--except for that time with Iris, of course--and it seemed almost too 
great a penance for the sin she'd committed. 

"Okay, teacher," a subdued voice said, and she was able to raise her face 
with a smile on it. 

"Now we'll begin," she said, and began her lecture. The classroom tittering 
went on, the surreptitious whisperings continued. They were all doing it so 
there was no one she could pick on to put an end to it. Matter of fact, it 
grew, and as it did Carolyn had an ominous feeling of dread. She became 
afraid to look behind her at the blackboard and yet she would certainly have 
to soon, when she began demonstrating math problems. She said a silent 
prayer, wishing that the board was as pure and clean as snow, though not so 
white, and then she turned to face it, half rising from her chair. 

"Eek!" she said, and fell back, for there on the board she stood, now with a 
stiff penis in her mouth, another poked into her vagina, another in her 
rear, and one in each hand, with all of them spouting their vile sexual goo. 

She couldn't help herself. Up from her seat she shot, searching frantically 
for an eraser that couldn't be found, while the boys so wild with their vile 
suggestions that at last she had to run from the room lest she burst out 
crying and by that show of weakness never regain control of the recalcitrant 
boys at The Pines. 

She composed herself in the hall, difficult as that was with the memory of a 
mass assault of penises in her mind, and she opened the door to Mr. Sloane's 
classroom a crack. He was lecturing history to a bunch of very quiet boys, 
and he nodded at her beckoning finger. 

A minute later he met her in the hall, and now her composure was all but 
restored. "There was an obscene picture on the blackboard," she explained to 
the thirty-fivish school principal, "and none of the boys would admit to 
drawing it. I came to you for advice, Mr. Sloane." 

"And what did the picture show, Miss Holm?" he asked, hand in the small of 
her back making her stiffen as he ushered her into his office. 

"Something vile. The subject matter is unimportant, it's the disciplining of 
the culprit I'm after. How should I handle a matter like this? What is the 
policy at The Pines?" 

"Corporal punishment," he said, and from the corner of his office he picked 
up a large wooden paddle, large enough for the wielder of it to use both 
hands on its handle, with a swatting surface that was drilled with a double 
row of half inch holes. 

"You mean you beat those boys!" She was aghast. 

He smiled and said, "We administer a paddling when it's necessary. Make them 
work in the laundry, make them do kitchen police work or yard work, nothing 
does as much good as a taste of the paddle," he said, laying its swatting 
surface in his big hand with a light smack. 

"I couldn't do that," she protested. 

He shrugged. "Then you probably can't hold a job here, Miss Holm, and I 
happen to know how badly you need a job." 

She cast down her eyes, tremulously looked up at him through her long blonde 
lashes. "Those charges at Miss Trowbridge's school were false, sir." 

He shrugged again, swatted his palm again. "They're on the record, at least 
the unofficial record, and it'd be difficult for you to find other 
employment if you were terminated here for failing to maintain discipline." 

"But I just couldn't beat those boys!" 

"Nothing difficult about it. Surely you can recall how it was done to you at 
home, and how effective it was." 

"Oh, my mother never spanked me. My father did a few times before he left 
home, but I was very young. I hardly remember it," she said, her hand 
unconsciously moving to the rounded swell of her bottom. 

"A little instruction is in order then. Turn around please." 

"W-What?" 

"I said, turn around, please, and lift your skirt." 

"Mr. Sloane, you can't be serious!" 

"Of course I'm serious. A paddling loses most of its efficacy when performed 
through cloth." 

"I simply can't believe you're serious," she said, turning slowly in spite 
of herself. 

"I assure you I am, and I remind you that we've got classes waiting, so 
please be quick about it. I don't like this any more than you do, but it has 
to be done, you've got to learn how to manipulate the paddle efficiently but 
without causing any real damage to the boy's posterior. Skirt up, please." 

She stood with her side to him, looking for some sort of light to show in 
his eyes that this was all some joke, some rowdy initiation to the rough 
life at The Pines. The light was not there. His eyes were somber, serious as 
he stood impatiently fingering the paddle. She shook her head in disbelief, 
but her fingers were inching up the skirt of her dress, baring her quaking 
thighs. 

"C-Can't you just tell me how to do it, Mr. Sloane?" 

He shook his head firmly. "Some things have to be demonstrated." 

The bottom ruffle of her panties was exposed, and her legs were flushed as 
hotly as her cheeks. "You could show me through my skirt, couldn't you ?" 

He sighed and said, "Miss Holm, if you can't take orders from your superior, 
it's plain to see why you got into that trouble at your former place of 
employ. I'll try to write you a decent letter of recommendation, but . . ." 

"No, no! It's all right!"' she said, hiking her skirt up to her waist, 
bending slightly at the waist, exposing that terrifically rounded contour of 
her bottom, very thinly covered with the yellow, ruffled panties that Iris 
had presented her with in happier, completely carefree times. 

"Just bend over a little more," he said, putting pressure with his hand on 
her back to show her the way. 

She hung there holding her skirt up around her hips, biting her plump lower 
lip to keep from weeping, while he gave her a little lecture about corporal 
punishment and assisted her by elevating her skirt a little higher, until it 
was bunched about the small of her back. 

"Hmm," he said, as he slipped his fingers within the waistband of her 
panties, fingering the material and making Carolyn squint her eyes shut hard 
to hold back the tears. "Thin material, but with all these ruffles and 
things on the bottom," he said, smoothing his big, rough hand over the 
panties' frilly decorations, "it'd be best if we took them down, Miss Holm." 

"B-B-But . . . ," she said, all but blubbering as he touched her there with 
his hand, as he looked at her exposed bottom, all upturned, and very 
exposed, for the bright yellow nylon between the rows of ruffles was so 
thin, so sheer that it was all but transparent. Iris had often admired her 
bottom in these same panties. She'd admired it herself in the mirror, skirt 
up like this, looking back over her shoulder and smiling at the smooth curve 
of her hip-line, at the nubile tapering of her thighs, and at the sweetly 
compressed split of her buttocks, clearly visible through the stretched 
yellow gossamer of her panties. 

He rested a heavy hand on her derriere, drummed his fingers against thinly 
covered trembling flesh, and said, "I am not used to having my staff argue 
with me. Now, are you going to take down those very pretty but highly 
obstructive panties or shall I?" 

She gulped and swallowed, unable to get her breath in her great 
consternation, unable to answer him, and with a cluck of disgust and a 
clatter of the paddle on his desk, he was directly behind her, tugging and 
pulling at the tautly stretched garment, pulling her panties down over her 
back-thrust bottom, baring her buttocks to a man's gaze for the first time 
in almost ten years. 

He jerked them down halfway to her knees. He had to get on his knees to do 
this, for her doubled over posture made the fit of the snug panties even 
tighter. She could feel his breath on her cringing flesh, scalding it, and 
for a moment she had the wild hope that he'd sexually attack her, just so 
she could report him and have him fired. But no, he touched her cheeks with 
no more than his gaze and his hot breath as he pulled her panties right on 
down, exposing both of her rosily-flushed buttocks, putting on display the 
tightly clenched split between them, even baring the golden hair that crept 
up from her pubic area to her anal area and, hopefully, concealed the pink, 
throbbing bulge of her vulval tissues. He didn't lay a hand on her--not 
until he was at her side again, lecturing. 

"Right here," he said, and drew a line with his finger across Carolyn's 
buttocks, making her jump and almost scream, "is the best area for the 
application of the paddle. Right here." He repeated it as if she hadn't felt 
the awful touch of his finger the first time. "The fatty part of the 
buttocks is the most sensitive and most receptive paddling surface." 

"I see! Yes! I understand! Just do it!" 

"Lower," he said, "down here under the curve of the gluteus maximus is good 
too, but there's a danger of injuring the achille's tendon in the back of 
the thigh." 

"Eek! I don't think I can stand this!" 

"Of course anywhere on the pupil's bottom is fine for taking the paddle, 
anywhere at all," he said, and his moving hand covered every square inch of 
his employee's feverishly hot buttocks while she swayed there squealing, 
close to fainting. 

"Just do it! Just do it and get it over with!" she implored, and he stopped, 
hand resting comfortably on her blushing naked bottom, and he spoke to her: 
"This, you see, my dear Miss Holm, is all a part of the proper paddling 
technique. The paddling itself is nothing to those boys," he said, and at 
last he took his hand away, allowing her to breathe, but only for an 
instant, as there was a swooshing sound, followed by a tremendous SWAT! 

"YOW! OH! OH, MY POOR BOTTOM!" she screamed, as it truly came on fire now, 
scalded by the perforated paddle, but lightly reassured by his patting hand. 

"You see?" he said in triumph. "The distress is magnified a great deal by 
the proper prelude to the paddle, especially if that prelude is given by a 
member of the opposite sex, so you see, my dear Carolyn, you'll have a 
distinct advantage over me when it comes to disciplining our boys. Have you 
got it all now?" 

"Wait-wait-wait!" she said, as hand was removed and swooshing sound came, 
terminated by another great SWAT! 

"EEK! EEK!" 

"Hush, please, Miss Holm. That didn't hurt nearly so much as the first one; 
though the element of surprise was there, the suspense was gone. Now get 
ready for this one. No suspense, no surprise, just one healthy . . . SWATH!" 

The force of it staggered her forward shrieking. He caught her arm, 
laughing, and drew her erect. She was snuffling and sobbing but no tears had 
flowed as she stood there rubbing her fiery hot bottom, feeling the circles 
left by the paddle, while Mr. Sloane, principal and obviously expert 
disciplinarian, obligingly knelt and pulled up her panties, lecturing all 
the while: "You see? Nothing to it. You just go back there and give those 
boys hell, Carolyn. I'd do it myself but it's better for you to get the 
first time over with, and I've got to get back to my boys. They won't 
confess to drawing that picture. You go back, pick out the biggest, toughest 
boy in the class, have him bare his butt and stand there grabbing his ankles 
while you lecture them all on propriety, education, anything, and then lay a 
few good ones on his bare ass. I guarantee you won't have any more trouble 
with that little pack of hyenas. Is it sore?" he asked, looking up at her 
with his hand up under her skirt, smoothly rubbing her hot, aching bottom. 

"N-No, sir. It feels just fine," she said through trembling lips, eyes 
misted with tears. 

"I could rub some lotion on you there if it hurts even a tiny bit, Carolyn," 
he suggested with a warm smile, a friendly smile. 

"I hardly feel it at all," she said, smarting very sharply, even where he 
wasn't touching her. 

With a last pat on her butt he stood up, hands clasped before him, and said, 
"I hope you've gained from our little . . . talk, Carolyn." 

"Oh, I have! Th-Thank you, sir." 

"Don't mention it, dear," he said, and gave her a tiny, fatherly peck on her 
plump, rosy cheek, the one on her face, the one that was only smoldering and 
not completely on fire. 

She demurely smiled a final thank you, took the paddle and left him, and he 
immediately went to his desk, took out his very long, very hard cock, and 
rapidly masturbated to an ejaculation, near frantic to get the job done 
before his abnormally usual state of flaccid limpness returned. He 
concentrated hard on Carolyn Holm, seeing her frightened eyes and quivering 
lips, her out-thrust trembling bosom, visualizing that saucy, absolutely 
gorgeous ass that he'd turned from blushing pink to glowing scarlet, that 
he'd felt and touched and had come close to kissing. By thinking these 
thoughts, seeing these visions, he was easily able to put the rapacious 
Martha Wilkes completely out of his mind and enjoying the first real orgasm 
he'd had since coming to The Pines. 

CHAPTER THREE 

Carolyn stalked back down the hall, paddle swinging widely by her side, 
buttocks feeling positively enormous. They'd always been too big in her 
opinion, but now they felt gigantic. Iris had always reassured her they were 
just the right size, just the right shape, but if Iris could feel how big 
her buttocks felt now, she'd be shocked. They hurt too, but it wasn't 
anything like the shocked pain she'd felt during her period of disciplinary 
instruction. It was a smarting pain, like a very severe case of sun burn, a 
pain she couldn't forget about, following along behind her and making her 
very much aware of that big, bulging area of her body that was so thinly 
protected by one layer of nylon, some yellow ruffles, and a thin, blue 
cotton skirt. She paused outside her classroom to tenderly feel of it, to 
reassure herself that it hadn't truly grown in magnitude, and her gently 
probing hands weren't all that reassuring, her carefully exploring hand 
seemed to be encountering a bottom that was indeed bigger, rounder, more 
attracting to the male animal whom she'd avoided ever since Spike Thompson, 
the true shame of her life. 

The boys were whooping it up inside, and they slowed down only a little when 
she entered the room, ostentatiously swinging the big paddle. She faced them 
from the front of the classroom like a Marine Drill Instructor, crossing her 
legs, looking grim, leaning back against her desk before she thought and 
flinching visibly but very briefly when the edge of it bit into her punished 
bottom. 

She gestured with the paddle over her shoulder. "Who did that?" 

Again all the hands were raised, and now Carolyn's lips twisted into a 
smirk, and she said, "Okay, you all get a taste of this paddle. 

Who'll be first?" 

The hands stayed up, the grins stayed on their monkey faces, and after a 
moment's pause, she cleared her throat and said, "We have more important 
things to do than paddling. We have learning to attend to and I simply can't 
take the time to punish all of you for something only one of you did. Now, 
which will it be?" she asked, looking around the room for the biggest boy, 
finding him, being taken aback by his hulking shoulders, his thick chest, 
and most of all by the sulking, surly grin on his slightly bearded face. Her 
eyes roved on, fixed on a redheaded boy with a truly ape-like grin, a little 
imp with mischief written all over his face. 

"You." She pointed with the paddle. "What's your name?" 

"You can call me Rusty, teach," he said, and basked in the others' laughter. 

"Very well, Rusty," she said, easing her bottom off the desk edge with 
well-concealed relief. "Get up here and take the punishment for the whole 
class." 

He rose at once and walked cockily up the aisle, tossing his head and still 
grinning as whistles and catcalls followed him. Up on the elevated platform 
where her desk stood, he looked Carolyn straight in the eye as he began to 
unbuckle his jeans. He had to look up for this. She realized then just how 
small he was, just how young and vulnerable, and her heart went out to him, 
though of course she couldn't show that. 

"It won't be necessary to drop your p-pants," she coldly said. "Just turn 
around and bend over, grab your asshole and ... I mean your ankles!" she 
said, but it was too late, they were all laughing at her again, even the 
little redhaired boy who was about to be paddled. 

"I won't stand for this!" she shouted, grabbed him by the hair of his head, 
turned him and bent him over, and applied the paddle to the seat of his 
pants with all her strength. 

She was furious, enraged, like a thing gone mad as she whacked him over and 
over, putting all her weight behind each of the heavy blows. She drove him 
up against her desk with the blows, followed after him swinging with all her 
might. Her hair came out of the bun to obscure her vision, swinging wildly 
about her, but still she kept pouring the punishment on. When she tried to 
sweep her hair back out of the way, the armpit of her dress ripped, and even 
that didn't deter her. She connected solidly with every blow, resoundingly, 
and it seemed to diminish the pain in her bottom, seemed to wash away her 
recent humiliation with each loud SWAT of the wonderfully effective paddle. 

Punishment for the boy, therapy for her discipline for the entire class. 
They were silent now, or at least she thought they were, for it was hard to 
hear anything over the sound of the paddle's hangings and her own heavy 
pantings. She felt a seam opening on the side of her dress and still she 
swung on, knowing she had to make this a good paddling, knowing it wasn't 
hurting him much through his pants, despite his flinching and twistings. She 
started to tire and renewed herself by imagining the boy was Spike Thompson, 
and gained such strength that she soon had him crying out for mercy. A dozen 
more good, hard swats and she quit, dripping with perspiration, flushed with 
success, dismissed him to his desk and went to take her chair, trembling 
with sweet exhaustion. 

It hurt to sit down, but she was too happily tired to care. Her bottom felt 
good in comparison with the boy's. She even reveled in the warmly glowing 
pain there, wriggling her hot softness against the hard wooden seat as she 
opened the text book at random and told them to read to themselves from the 
page. She was in a state of blissful contentment until she recalled the 
drawing still on the blackboard behind her, whereupon she wearily rose, 
maintaining a stiff back somehow, and went to wipe it away with her sleeve. 

She made the penises blur and slowly vanish, along with the hideous 
caricature of herself. She didn't care that her fanny was switching and 
jiggling with her efforts, didn't mind that it was all swollen and more 
protuberant than ever as she worked, for she had to get rid of that shameful 
drawing, had to destroy all the dirty things that were attacking her. She 
scrubbed and scrubbed at the board, while behind her the class buzzed with 
whispers, but quietly, cautiously now, undoubtedly extending their sympathy 
to the boy who had suffered for all of them. She was sweating harder than 
ever when the drawing was at last unrecognizable to her, but still she could 
see herself being attacked by hard penises in her mind's eye as she took her 
seat, stern of countenance but soft and warm of body.. If it hadn't been for 
the presence of the class, she felt she could sleep for a week. As it was, 
she had a long day ahead of her--but she didn't yet know just how long it 
was to be ... 

CHAPTER FOUR 

History, English, social studies, the familiar subjects seemed to teach 
themselves that day as Carolyn worked to keep up her facade of stern 
authoritarian. Several times, especially after lunch in the mess hall, she 
saw little knots of boys talking and gazing sidelong in her direction, 
undoubtedly spreading the word that here was a teacher to be reckoned with, 
her soft good looks notwithstanding. The pain left her fanny, the soreness 
subsided, but the feeling of its being swollen remained and was hard to 
conceal as she walked about, doing her duty, being polite to Mr. Sloane, to 
Martha Wilkes, to the boys she'd come to teach, and from whom she'd already 
learned. 

The day went by in a hazy dream. At three o'clock, when the final bell rang, 
she longed to go to her cabin and sleep, wake up for a warm shower, then 
sleep some more. Instead, discipline was there to be maintained, penance was 
there to be paid, and she went to her cabin just long enough to change her 
clothes. Then she set off on a brisk walk through the woods. 

It was beautiful. City girl though she was, Carolyn knew she'd soon come to 
love the pines and the clear mountain air, the scolding blue-jays and the 
ominous-looking mushrooms that crowded up through the carpet of pine 
needles. The mushrooms reminded her of penises, however, and she avoided 
them as she walked, straying further and further from the camp, looking for 
the beauty in the forest and at all times being mindful about getting lost, 
starving to death, being attacked and eaten by a pack of wolves and 
wildcats. 

She was more than a mile, by her reckoning, from camp when she first heard 
the voracious wild animals of the seemingly friendly forest. 

She couldn't tell if they were wolves or cougars, but they were there, 
behind her, following, slavering at the jowls for her tender flesh. She 
walked faster, chewing on her knuckle, looking back over her shoulder and 
refusing to cry now, after having made it without a tear through the long, 
trying day. They were behind her, ready to pull her down and devour her the 
moment she stopped, and so she plunged on, tripping and falling, rising and 
going faster, craftily planning on leading them in a circle that would lead 
her back to the safety of the camp. 

They were, however, getting closer. She couldn't see them beyond a flash of 
movement through the shrubbery, but she could hear them, ever closer, almost 
laughing like hyenas, though she knew very well no hyenas existed in North 
America. They were within yards of her, still unseen, but snapping twigs in 
their increasingly close pursuit, and she plunged on, skirt hiked up, knees 
lifting high, running out of breath but still going. 

A cul-de-sac stopped her. She ran right into a pocket of boulders before she 
could stop, and when she turned to bravely face the hungry forest animals, 
ready to die but certain to fight to the death with true feminine bravery, 
she saw her pursuers clearly for the first time, and what she saw made her 
break into loud, long screams of terror. 

There were four of them blocking the narrow entrance of her trap, four boys 
wearing sneakers and cloth masks and nothing else, nothing else at all but 
their skins, and each of them had his penis in his hand, stroking it while 
they surveyed her, making her plight all the more terrible. She stopped her 
screaming and started toward them, determined to break through their close 
ranks, only to scream and fall back, sprawling on the ground, as the closest 
two of them took a step toward her. Backward she scrabbled over the musky 
earth as they came closer, taunting her, terrorizing her: "Goddamn, she'd 
scared shitless." 

"You can see right up her skirt." 

"Man, look at those tits!" 

"Let's jump her, men, let's fuck her good!" 

"NO! NO!" she cried, gaining her feet, gathering her torn dress about her, 
only to be brought up short by a huge boulder at her back. Desperate now, 
she plunged ahead, with no way out but through them, and it was then that 
they caught her and caught her good. 

One of them darted forward and tripped her and she went flat on her face in 
the pine needles, the wind knocked out of her. Before she could even move 
another said, "Give it to her like she gave it to Rusty!", and POW!, POW!, 
POW!, three terrific swats from the paddle made her move. 

Screaming, she rolled away, heedless of the hand that caught her sleeve, the 
other that caught her skirt, and between them ripped the dress half off her. 
She had only a shred of it to cling to as she crouched panting on the 
ground, wild-eyed, trying to cover her ridiculously frilly bra and panties, 
trying to cover her almost total nudity. 

"I know who you all are!" she said, panting. "I recognize you all, and if 
you don't stop this now I'll have you all expelled and sent to . . . sent to 
. . ." 

Her lame threat was interrupted by their raucous laughter, and they advanced 
on her, all of them with the penises in their hands stiff and straight, 
pointing at her, glaring at her with their tiny eyes that sought her out as 
surely as if they could see. 

"YA-HOO-O-O-O-O!" The closest one threw himself at her. She rolled away 
screaming but he landed on top of her, his naked flesh hot and clammy 
against hers, his bare penis branding her flank. She was bigger than the 
boy, probably stronger, but in her exhaustion and in her need to avoid all 
contact with his organ she was giving him the advantage, so she righted 
herself, gave up trying to hold the remnants of her dress up around her 
breasts, and began to pummel him with her fists, regardless of that thing 
pressing so hard and hot against her side. 

Another of the boys got her by the wrist. She pulled with all her might, 
screaming hoarsely in her frustration. But he wrenched her onto her back on 
the pine needles. 

The other two boys had hold of her legs before she knew it and then she was 
spread-eagled on the ground, still struggling but gaining no ground against 
the combined assault. 

"Get her! Hold her down!" 

"Rip that brassiere off! See if she cheats, like Martha said!" 

"Either way, I got first dibs on sucking on them!" 

"Let's fuck her, let's just fuck hell out of her!" 

Her screams did Carolyn no good, and neither did her struggles. The pine 
needles bit under her back and legs, but they were far kinder than the eager 
hands that ripped and tugged at her bra till it came loose and her utterly 
gorgeous perfectly formed breasts, all chaste pink and white, fell free to 
further inflame the four lusty boys. 

"Oh, Jeezus!" 

"Just look at them!" 

"Look at them, hell! Feel them. Taste them!" 

There was a mouth at her nipple, sucking on it, biting it, driving Carolyn 
to a new height of madness. As two of the boys roughly toying with her poor, 
cringing, sensitive breasts, two more were calling for their turn. 

A calm came over Carolyn and she went as limp as she could. She could 
survive this ordeal, perhaps even come out on top, if only she kept her 
head, didn't panic, didn't drive the boys to frenzy with her resistance, and 
resistance did little good anyway. 

"Just hurry up and get it over with," she said. "You'll all pay, of this you 
can rest assured." 

She lay there gathering her calm and her strength while the two mouths 
worked on her breasts. She divorced herself from those breasts, turned them 
away from her body and changed them into separate entities, little animals 
that had somehow attached themselves to her body for the time being. Let the 
boys kiss and lick the things, let them suck on her nipples. She hardly felt 
it at all, for she was scheming, resting, ready to counterattack and free 
herself, or at least to see these foul boys punished. 

Their masks were made of sugar sacks in which eye holes and a large mouth 
hole had been cut. They were tied around their necks. Get one of them off, 
just one, and identify that boy, thus frightening them all away and securing 
her freedom, and later her revenge. She could do it. All it took was 
cunning, daring. 

"Mmm," she murmured, and began to move again, but now her movements were 
smooth, silky, a sensuous sort of writhing, calculated to make it appear as 
if she was enjoying the two sucking mouths working at her breasts, even the 
two little hands that poked at her opened thighs and pulled the crotchband 
of her sodden panties aside. "Mmmmmm," she murmured, and let herself pretend 
that there was warmth in the mouths, love in the hands, pleasure to be found 
with four masked boys deep in the forest. 

"Hey, she's starting to dig it," one of them said. 

"Mmmm-m-m-m. More." 

"Oh, man! Oh, man, she's a hot one after all!" 

The boy on her left succumbed to Carolyn's feigned excitement. He released 
her arm to use both his hands as well as his mouth on her tormented nipple, 
and Carolyn smoothly slipped her hand down, fondled his head, then took a 
hold on the sack and pulled it up hard. 

Her only satisfaction was that she choked him for a moment. She pulled and 
twisted for all she was worth, getting the mask turned about so the boy 
couldn't see, but she didn't get it off. As she screamed and struggled, the 
two boys at her crotch ripped off her panties, the delicate undies Iris had 
given her, shredding them from her body and leaving her naked save for her 
shoes and socks. 

"Man, she's strong!" said one. 

"We got her good now. Hold her down!" 

"Let's change places, you guys. We want at her tits for a while." 

"Okay. Who's got the razor? Jim, do you have that razor she gave us?" 

"Kill me. Cut my throat," Carolyn murmured. But the boys didn't hear her, 
they were too busy scrambling around on top of her, pressing their 
sweat-reeking bodies against hers, touching her with their hard penises and 
testicles. 

Each of her tormentors held her down with the weight of his torso and 
clutched an arm or a leg in a scissors lock between his legs. Carolyn's 
hands and feet were in constant contact with their genitals. She kept very 
quiet then, utterly loath to feel them stir against her as they went about 
their dirty work, two of them nursing like hungry baboons, the other two 
using some sort of vibrator down there between her legs, on that most 
vulnerable, weakest, softest part of her. She laid still, divorced her 
entire body from her brain, and thought of pleasant things, like waving 
fields of daisies, like clear Mediterranean waters, like flogging the four 
to death with hot barbed wire. She tried harder. She could feel an insidious 
sort of perverse pleasure spreading outward from her captive breasts. She 
thought about Spike Thompson, seducing her with the aid of cheap wine and an 
exciting dance, hurting her with his enormous penis, then abandoning her for 
some cheap slut when she'd confessed her tearful love for him in public. 

That worked. She escaped from that feeling of dirty pleasure at her breasts 
and her cunt. 

At last the boys stopped. At last she had some respite from that ordeal when 
the buzzing stopped and one of them said, "Yeah, that looks a lot better." 

"Man, it's really pretty. Not like Ma . . . not like hers at all. Look, men, 
it's really a pretty pussy." 

Lips left her breasts and the other two boys peered down between her 
shamefully spread legs, and Carolyn's curiosity was such that she struggled 
up in her grip, just high enough to see that she'd been shaved bald, clean 
as a baby's bottom, with her slit and the protuberance of her clit on very 
clear display. 

"Oh, no," she moaned, and fell back, close to tears now, but absolutely 
refusing to let them come. 

One of them touched her there and said, "What's that?" 

"It's her clit, man! Don't you know nothing?" 

"Never seen one like that before. It sticks right out." 

"Big deal. You've only seen one before in your life." 

"Yeah, it sticks right out, just like a little tongue. Yeah-h-h-h-h-h . . . 
." 

"NO, DON'T DO THAT!" Carolyn screamed as, unmistakably, she felt lips 
encircling her clit, a tongue softly lashing its helpless tenderness. 
"THAT'S NOT NICE! THAT'S A SIN! THAT'S AWFUL!!!" she screamed, all her 
aplomb gone now, bucking like a wild horse and screaming like a banshee. 

"Better quit, Eddie, she's liable to hurt herself," said a wonderful voice, 
and Carolyn relaxed with a sigh as the mouth left her, as the tongue licked 
its last. She relaxed on the pine needles, feeling them soft and smooth now, 
and she didn't stir when fingers replaced the tongue that had almost seduced 
her. 

"It's gettin' late. Almost time for dinner. Let's screw her now." 

"Yeah, let's dip our wicks in her before she cools off." 

"Man, she's only just begun." 

"You go first, Rusty." 

"You just bet I will." 

Rusty, Rusty, she kept saying to herself, as a lithe, wiry body clambered 
atop hers, already pushing with its cock. She remembered the name of Rusty 
from somewhere, and she had to keep it in her mind. "Uh, uh, uh," he 
grunted, like a pig, as he poked and shoved with his little cock, trying to 
get it in her, not knowing that she'd survived a prick at least three times 
the size of this one, a real cock, not just a little wick. 

He got it in her. Short as it was, Carolyn felt it go in, felt it rasp 
against her tender, shaven mound and push time and again against her 
clitoris, so dumb and defenseless that it couldn't even hide from this 
unwanted, persistent friction. 

She rolled her head on the needles, trying to get away from the masked face 
hovering by her neck. She clutched at the earth, but only got handfuls of 
wicks and testicles as they held her down and the one on top of her fucked 
her, screwed her, made her want to laugh with his puny efforts. 

"I've had more than that," she muttered. 

"What? What she say?" 

"More than that!" she said, lifting her head with the last of her strength. 
She fell back, enunciating clearly, "Lots more than that, lots more." 

"Urrgh! Urrrggh! U-U-U-U-RRRGH!" 

"That's it, Rusty, give it to her good, but she wants more, MORE!" 

"CUM IN HER TWAT, RUSTY! GIVE HER MORE!" 

"MORE!" she echoed defiantly, knowing he was ejaculating, but still defying 
them all, heaving with her body, trying to throw him off, trying to get his 
damnable pubic mound off her tender clitoris. 

She succeeded. He rolled off her with a sigh and she sighed too and tried to 
reach down and scratch at her itching clitoris, only to be reminded by a 
handful of cock where she was. 

Another boy was on top of her right away anyway, and he did the job she'd 
been wanting to do. With his penis moving in and out of her permanently 
damaged vagina, he was giving her clitoris the scratching of its life, even 
bringing forth a smile from her as she lay there murmuring, "More. More, 
I've had lots more than that." 

"Man, she can't get enough of our pricks, men! Look it her move that big 
beautiful ass." 

"Let's let her go. She'll give us a real ride." 

"We're doin' fine," said the boy on top of her, riding her hard, panting 
hard, scratching her itch good and hard. 

He grunted along toward his climax. Carolyn could distinctly feel it coming, 
and then at the very brink of it he pulled his prick right out of her, 
hoisted himself up in the push-up position, and looked down giggling. She 
looked too, saw his hard prick pointing at her flushed face, saw it jerk and 
throb and then vigorously spew out a gusher of semen that came up and hit 
her right in the chin. 

"YAAHHHHH! GET AWAY! BABOONS! LET ME UP! RAPE RA-A-A-A-A-APE!!!" Her screams 
took them aback. For a moment they almost let her go, but then they were at 
her again, laughing and talking, sucking at her breasts, calling them her 
tits, poking another prick in her vagina, in her twat, in her cunt, fucking 
her and screwing her, not even giving her the satisfaction of properly 
scratching her burning clit as she tried frantically to wipe off the 
scalding goo from her chin, too furious for tears now, too mad to quit 
struggling, no matter what satisfaction it gave them. 

"Teacher's really humping now!" 

"Get her while she's hot." 

"Who wants seconds?" 

"I haven't finished firsts yet!" 

"Pull out and shoot in her face, like I did." 

"I'LL KILL YOU! I'LL KILL YOU ALL! MR. SLOANE, HELP! IRIS, WHERE ARE YOU? 
SPIKE, SAVE ME!!!" 

"Uh! Oh, God, can't quit a pussy like this! Hotter than a friggin 
firecracker! Uh! UH! URRRRRGGGH!" 

She thought they did it to her two more times, but she didn't cry, didn't 
shed a single tear. She was too weary and too determined. 

She just lay there and took it, succeeding in transporting herself to 
another world, one of beauty and peace, one where she could sleep forever, 
one where her body was made of warm butter and her brain was made of cotton 
candy. 

They had to help her to her feet. She rose as if her head was in the clouds, 
supported by the fiendish little imps who'd almost killed her but were now 
being relatively kind to her, except for their vile words. 

"Man, once she got going, she really came!" 

"I made her cum first." 

"Like hell you did! It was me, with this!" said the one boy holding her arm, 
and thrust his flaccid prick against her thigh, where she brushed weakly at 
it, as if it were a June bug. 

"We gotta be back. Martha'll really be pissed if we miss dinner." 

"Think she can find her own way home?" 

"Are you kidding? After all the time's she's cum, she can't find her ass 
with both hands." 

One of them swatted her ass--hard--and it roused Carolyn from her torpor, 
made her glare at the little rapists for a moment before she slipped back 
into her drugged, stumbling walk through the forest, led on by four naked 
dwarfs, Sleeping Beauty up on her feet and walking, somehow. 

They used the paddle to wake her up and keep her going, and that almost made 
Carolyn cry a few times, not from the pain of it, for she was beyond 
physical sensation, but from the complete lack of necessity for it. She was 
perfectly all right, just a little sleepy and in need of a stiff drink and 
some directions home, where she could sleep for forty-eight hours and then 
spend the next forty-eight in a hot tub. She was just fine, and she tried to 
tell them that, but they kept paddling and leading her along. Of course she 
was a little dazed, but that was understandable. She was so dazed, in fact, 
that she didn't even realize she'd been led all the way back to camp until 
she was thrust through a doorway and found herself to be the focal point of 
more than a dozen pairs of very wide eyes as she stood naked in the mess 
hall at dinner time. 

CHAPTER FIVE 

"EEEEK EEEEEEEEEKKK!!!" Carolyn yanked and tugged at the doorknob as hard as 
she could while the din rose to a caterwauling, clattering riot behind her. 
The door yielded but did not give, being held as it was by the four boys 
who'd thrown her so unsuspectingly in with this horde of screaming, 
shouting, table-overturning monkeys at her back. 

She turned and dashed toward the serving area, one hand held futilely before 
her heavily bobbing breasts, the other before her bald-shaven loins, still 
screaming, piercing the air over the shouts of the lusting, sex-mad boys. 
Rounding the serving partition, she collided with the bulky form of the 
cook, went sprawling, caught sight of her pursuers, and went scrambling on 
behind the safety of another female's back, while the cook held off the 
horde by slinging slices of bread at them and shouting, "Back, you little 
bastards! Get back and eat your fucking dinners!" 

Carolyn dragged herself to her feet by the cook's apron, sobbing profusely 
but somehow unable to shed any tears, perhaps because her waterworks had 
been turned off for too long, perhaps because of the impassive expression on 
the plump, jowly face of the woman who'd saved her life. 

"What the hell you runnin' around bare-assed for, blondie?" the woman asked, 
hoisting her easily to her feet, where Carolyn crouched and cringed, still 
very heedful of the clamor just yards away. "You come to dinner like that 
every night and every one of these boys'll get malnutrition." 

"I was r-r-r-r . . ." Carolyn tried to explain. "In the forest, I thought it 
was wolves, and they came out from the bushes and s-s-s-sc-sc ... did awful 
things to me, took off my clothes and r-r-r-ra . . . They fucked me, those 
little baboons, they fucked me black and blue!" 

The cook stepped back and surveyed her, said, "You look pink and red to me, 
except for all those pecker tracks on you. Little bastards, give them their 
head and they'll fuck all night long, or at least till it's time to eat. 
'Scuse me, I gotta get dessert served up. Brown Betty tonight." 

"They raped me, four of them, don't you understand!" said Carolyn, grasping 
the woman's thick arm, trying to turn her to face her. 

She brushed Carolyn easily aside and headed back toward her kitchen, and 
Carolyn followed, propelled by the raucous clamorings behind the partition, 
drawn on in amazement by this woman's indifference. "Don't you understand, I 
was raped out there in the forest, at least four times! And by boys from 
this camp, boys who eat in this very dining room! I want you to call the 
police, right away, and call a doctor too!" 

"It's a mess hall not a dining room, and you'll be in one helluva mess if 
you call the cops. Big old busty blonde like you gettin' raped by them 
little tads? Think they'd believe that? It'd be you to go to jail, for 
statutory rape. Quit hanging on me, will you? Them boys is hungry. As for 
callin' a doctor, you don't need one. A little fucking in the woods never 
hurt no woman." 

"But I might be p-p-p-pregnant!" 

The cook stepped back and surveyed her, looked her up and down, and made her 
vainly try to cover her nudity with her hands once again. The bulky woman 
said, "You ain't pregnant. You got all their cum on the outside of you, from 
the looks of it." 

"EEK! Get it off! It's burning me!" Carolyn cried, slapping at her loins, 
her breasts, everywhere she could feel that dried crust of sexual vileness. 

"Get it off yourself, I'm busy. BROWN BETTY ON THE WAY, BOYS," she yelled, 
and elbowed Carolyn aside. 

This time Carolyn stopped her. She grabbed her arm and dug in, turned her 
about, and said to her weary face, "I've got to wash myself, I can't get 
p.g., not at the hands of those little baboons!" 

"So? You got a shower at your place, don't you? Use it." 

"I can't go out there naked!" 

"It's the way you got here. Aw, shit. I can't stand here arguing all night. 
Grab a burlap sack out of that pile and get on home before you have a litter 
of kittens in my clean kitchen. 'Scuse me, lady." 

Carolyn rushed to the pile in the corner, grabbed up a potato sack and 
immediately found a pair of scissors close at hand. She was busily cutting 
out a hole for her head when she saw on the floor some disks of sacking, 
just the same size as the eye and mouth holes of the sacks those boys had 
worn over their heads during her horrible ordeal in the forest. She 
proceeded to make her makeshift costume and was dressed in it when Martha 
Wilkes returned. 

"Not bad," said the cook. "At least you got yourself a skirt of the right 
length now." 

Carolyn confronted her coolly. "My attackers used this kitchen. I have 
evidence of that, and I have at least circumstantial evidence that you had 
some prior knowledge of it all. Now, are you going to call the police or 
not?" 

"That's up to David," said Martha, busy again at her work, unconcerned. 
Obviously guilty as hell, but of exactly what and why, Carolyn had no idea. 
"I'll call him and tell him you want to see him, but my best advice for you, 
girlie, is to keep your mouth shut. It don't do no good to complain. If you 
don't like the situation you're in, then just move on down the road." 

Carolyn slipped out the back door and into the night, and the moment she was 
out there it struck her that her rapists might still be on the prowl. She 
knew she had to be utterly silent as she glided through the gathering dusk 
to the safety of her cabin and she tried to keep close to the mess hall for 
as long as she could and out of the moonlight. The burlap sack was chafing 
unbearably against her bruised skin and her socks were drooping down around 
her ankles. She was covered with dirt, and now as she tiptoed through the 
shadows she fell over a trash can, sprawling forward with a loud clatter and 
rolling out into the moonlight. 

"Keep away from me! I know you're out there," she cried, "and it won't be so 
easy to rape me now! Keep away, I say, keep away!" she kept calling out as 
she edged toward her cabin, looking all around her and going carefully. 

She entered the cabin with a great sense of relief and immediately took off 
the burlap sack. Her skin felt scraped raw, every square inch of it, and her 
nerves were shot. She was in a state of shock and should have been in a 
hospital, but as it was, the shower was a very good second choice. She 
turned the water on good and warm and she soaped herself lavishly. The 
bathroom filled with fragrant clouds of steam as she scrubbed herself from 
head to toe. She washed her hair and rinsed it under the thick stream of 
warm, comforting water, washed all those dreadful semen stains from her 
body, then settled down to washing her vulval area, her vagina, and her 
clitoris. 

Carolyn intended to do a thorough job of it. She certainly didn't want to 
get pregnant. She leaned back against the shower wall and directed the 
shower head right at her loins. The head was adjustable, so she could get 
one thick stream of water that thudded hard against her pubic mound. Legs 
apart, she soaped herself vigorously, all up and down her swollen labia, up 
within her poor, violated vagina, all around between her legs while she let 
the stream of water give her clitoris a good, hard washing. It, too, was 
still swollen and the steadily thrumming water hit against it directly. She 
helped in the process by spreading her labia wide and tilting her hips up, 
smiling down with satisfaction as she watched the thick stream hitting 
against it, washing it very very thoroughly indeed. 

She lathered up a wash cloth and repeated the process, going all over 
everything again with the nice, rough cloth, scrubbing and scrubbing to make 
sure every trace of her rapists was gone, and then she rubbed in big 
handfuls of hot water, feeling better, cleaner all the time. Settling back 
against the wall, hips tilted and labia spread, she watched, smiling as the 
thick stream of water thrummed against her clitoris once again. She was 
beginning to feel a little human again, she decided, as the big waterspout 
beat steadily against her clitoris, well over an inch long now, and being 
cleaned of every trace of the four baboons who'd followed her into the 
forest. 

Martha was right, they're bastards all of them, she thought as she watched 
the cleansing job. Stuck their hard little white pricks in me. Sucked on my 
titties like pigs. Just about smashed my clitoris flat, but it's going to be 
all right now, it's getting nice and fat again. And they squirted their 
stuff all over me, all over me! Awful stuff, awful boys, terrible ordeal. 
Worse than what Spike did to me, worse than Miss Trowbridge catching Iris 
and me modeling lingerie, but I'll survive, starting to feel better all the 
time. Whew! The water's so nice and warm. I'm feeling good all over. Scrub 
again. Real hard! Mmmm-m-m-m. Now rinse. 

Oh God, my clit looks so big! Give it a good washing this time. Lay back and 
just feel it getting washed. Wonderful. Wonderful. 

"Miss Holm, are you all right?" 

"Eek!" She yipped and covered her crotch with one hand, a part of her 
breasts with the other. "Who is it?!? Who's out there?!? Don't come in here! 
I'm completely naked!" 

"It's Mr. Sloane, Carolyn," he said, and she breathed a sigh of relief and 
opened her hand to the stream of the water again. "Martha told me what 
happened to you and I came right over with some medicinal brandy to see what 
I could do. I heard your voice. Are you alone in there? It's so steamy in 
here I can't see a thing." 

"I guess I was talking to myself. I'm all alone. I'm still a little 
hysterical. It was terrible, Mr. Sloane. They even paddled me out there! Did 
you say you had some brandy?" 

She stifled a squeal as the shower door opened and his hand, holding a glass 
filled nearly to the brim, appeared through the rising mists. She could see 
him dimly through the steam, but he obviously couldn't see her, for his 
expression didn't change as he stood there offering her the brandy. She took 
it and sipped it while he stood waiting for the glass. It warmed her going 
down, choked her a little with its fire, but she sipped steadily at it while 
continuing to smooth the rinse water over her loins. 

"I want to report this to the police," she told him. 

"Well talk about that in the morning. Did they paddle you severely?" 

"They blistered me," she said, half turning, and rubbing her sore bottom. 

"Little animals. I'll attend to that. I'm qualified in first aid. Are you 
feeling faint?" 

"A little," she said, and handed him back the empty glass. 

He turned off the water. "Best come out of there now." 

"Please, Mr. Sloane!" she said, covering up again as the mists began to 
clear. "I can take care of myself." 

He smiled a kindly smile and said, "I'm sure you can, my dear, but we can't 
have you fainting and knocking your head against something, now can we? Come 
out now, we'll dry you off, and I'll tend to your blisters while you tell me 
exactly what happened for my report." 

He was holding up a big towel and looking away, and Carolyn timidly stepped 
out of the shower and into the snuggly warm folds of the terrycloth. He 
patted it around her shoulders and back and waist while she assured him her 
faintness would pass. She dried her breasts and tummy and loins while he 
very helpfully got to his knees and rubbed the long folds of the towel over 
her legs, briskly and yet tenderly, aware that she might have bruises 
everywhere on her fine young body. She thanked him and tucked the big towel 
around her torso just under her armpits, then used a smaller towel to dry 
her hair. She wrapped up her hair using the towel like a turban while he 
waited watchfully, ready to catch her if she fainted, and he steadied her by 
the arm as he led her into her bedroom. 

"Just lie down on your bed on your stomach, Carolyn," he said. "That's 
right. Here. Best have a few more ounces of this brandy. Drink it slowly," 
he said, patting her back, holding the glass for her. She drank and smiled 
up at him gratefully. "Now lie flat, get comfortable, and we'll examine your 
injuries." 

The light had been dimmed, so he had to bend close over her as he gently 
pulled aside the towel. She could hear his breathing, even and deep, as he 
gently touched the myriad little cuts and bruises that marked her back and 
buttocks and legs. He clucked and said, "Contusions, abrasions, and bruises, 
but this lotion will make them feel better. Brandy settling well in your 
stomach, Carolyn ?" 

"Mm-hmm," she said, nodding and smiling as she felt his large, comforting 
hand smooth a generous amount of cooling lotion onto her back. 

The lotion smelled good and felt good as he smoothed it over her relaxing 
shoulders, on the narrowing vee of her back, down through the long, shallow 
indentation of her spine. He sat on the bed beside her to do this. There was 
just enough room for him. His tweed-covered knee was four inches away from 
her nose as he worked the healing lotion in, talking to her smoothly and 
comfortingly, sympathizing with her for the ordeal she'd been through, 
assuring her that she'd be feeling just fine soon. She was feeling better 
already. The brandy had worked wonders toward relaxing her and his hands and 
the lotion were most effective in making the little pains in her back 
disappear. 

"I'll just turn around and get your legs. Lie still, dear, don't move a 
muscle." 

"Mm-hm-m-m-m," she murmured, as he shifted around on the bed, clucked over 
the little pine needle cuts on the backs of her legs, and began with the 
lotion there. It was good to have him there. He gave her strength. She liked 
his soft, warm voice, even liked the gentle rustlings of his clothes as he 
massaged her legs and healed them, starting at her ankles, working up over 
the soft bulges of her sore calves, working the lotion in behind her knees, 
and massaging it in very thoroughly up the swelling tapers of her thighs. 
All over the outsides of her hips it went, feeling almost as good as the 
brandy inside her. Magically, he was making the pain disappear, until his 
sleeve brushed against the sorest swell of her bottom and she flinched. 

"Carolyn, I'm terribly sorry. Tsk. Didn't realize just how tender you are 
there. I'll be as gentle as I can. Be brave, dear." 

She tensed as he poured the cool lotion onto her buttocks, forming 
discernible patterns with the creamy stuff, letting it drool down over the 
reddened hillocks of her posterior and into the deep crack between them. It 
tickled a bit, it felt good, and he was so gentle that his hands hardly hurt 
at all when they began working it in. She felt close to dozing, yet 
strangely and wonderfully awake. She knew he was making an effort to be 
gentle, for his hands were slightly trembling and there was a slight 
wavering in his voice as he spoke to her, telling her how very lovely she 
was, and what a terrible crime it had been for those boys to take off all 
her clothes and kiss her breasts and clitoris, and put their hot little 
cocks in her sweet little cunt and fuck her and fuck her and fuck her till 
they all felt good. 

"Don't know how I stood it," she murmured. 

"I don't either. I feel so very badly about it. Let's spread those lovely 
legs wider, dear. Here, I'll do it. Now I can smooth in the lotion down here 
in this sweet little crack of your lovely little bottom. There. Doesn't that 
feel good?" 

"Yes. Oh, yes." 

"You know, Carolyn, you really do have an exceptionally lovely posterior. If 
you weren't so devoted to teaching, you could model panties." 

"Do you think so, Mr. Sloane?" 

"Definitely. I could picture you modeling lacy little panties for that 
company out west that specializes in daring, wicked undergarments. And I can 
picture you modeling them in person, at buyer's shows and at businessmen's 
luncheons, walking around with nothing on but a wisp of blue satin, smiling 
your beautiful smile, exposing what's got to be a perfectly lovely pair of 
breasts, and getting paid very well for it. Yes, it's a lovely bottom." 

"Nice of you to say that, but I'd rather teach!" 

"Oh, of course. Here, let me get those legs a little wider apart. Mm. Even 
your anus is pretty. It's all pink and puckered, just like a very sweet and 
very special mouth, all waiting to be kissed. Does that feel good when I rub 
in the lotion right there?" 

"Feels fine." 

"Yes-s-s-s. That's right, get your legs a little wider apart and raise up 
that beautiful, gorgeous, lovely ass of yours just a little. Fine. Now I can 
rub the lotion in really well, really well, all around that precious mouth 
and even a little ways inside it. Oh, I'll bet that does feel nice." 

"Mm-hm-m-m-m-m." 

"You know, late at night like this, I'm often given to fantasy when I'm 
alone in my cabin. Right now I'm fantasizing. You're so lovely I can't help 
it. Know what I'm wondering?" 

"Mm-mm." 

"Given the opportunity, I'm wondering where a man would kiss you on this 
perfectly gorgeous body of yours. If a man were granted just one kiss, I 
think he might do it right here," he said, and his fantasy became so real 
that Carolyn entered into it, and could tell exactly what it would feel like 
to have a man press his warm lips against her anus and slip his tongue 
inside the tingling hole for a moment. It made her blush, and it made her 
smile. It made him sigh dreamily. 

"Right here is where they raped you, eh? Legs a bit wider, dear, and hips a 
little higher. That's right. You can put your hands under your loins to 
properly elevate your lovely round ass. Is this where they put their hot 
cocks in you Carolyn? Did they slip them in this hole here?" 

"Mm-hm." 

"Tsk. Right in your vagina. Right in your love-hole. I don't think they 
stretched it. It's nice and tight. Wet, too. Is it sore at all?" 

"Feels good." 

"Yes, I'll just bet it does. I'll bet it felt good for those little baboons 
in the forest too, eh? That's right, help me with the massage, move your 
pretty hips a little, move that gorgeous ass. Keep moving, darling, while I 
have a look. Just bend right over here and . . . Oh, my. Oh Carolyn." 

"What's the matter?" 

"Lie still, dear. Nothing's wrong. It's just that I'm very pleasantly 
surprised to see that your sweet little cunt is even prettier than your 
anus. Amazing. They certainly did a fine job of shaving it. Hips up higher, 
honey. My, what a big clit you have! No, go right on squeezing it with your 
precious little fingers. You know, there isn't a man alive who wouldn't want 
to kiss you here. Mmmmm. Mm-m-m-m-m. Tastes beautiful. Mmm-m-m-m." 

"Feels nice, real nice." 

"Yeah. Yeah, it sure does," he said, breathing very deeply now almost 
panting, clothes rustling softly. "Rub that clit, honey, and make it feel 
good." 

"I am. Oooo, I am." 

"Yes-s-s-s. We'll both feel good together." 

"Mm-hm-m-m." 

"Gorgeous body." 

"Nice man." 

"You're feeling good all over, and so am I." 

"Yes-s-s-s." 

"Want some more good lotion?" 

"Want your hands, too." 

"Here it is, honey, nice and warm, good and thick, plenty of it, oh yeah, 
yeah, yeah-h-h...." 

"That's it. All over my fanny, all over my gorgeous ass." 

"Yes. Yes-s-s-s! Yes, wiggle it around while I squirt it all over you, while 
I rub it in hard and make you feel good all over, good all over! Yes! Yes! 
YES!" 

"Yes, Mr. Sloane! That's it! Rob it in hard! Oh, it's so warm, and it smells 
so good!" 

"So fucking good!" 

"Yes, so fucking fucking fucking good!" she said, and he stayed right with 
her until her very relaxed body settled down into a beautiful dreamless 
slumber. 

CHAPTER SIX 

Carolyn was up and out of bed, feeling marvelous, before she even remembered 
her terrible ordeal of the day before, and when she did remember what all 
had happened to her, she went right on about her early morning routine with 
stoic aplomb. Standing at the window, she told herself she'd been raped, but 
that she wasn't the first woman it had happened to. Doing her sitting up 
exercises, she decided that perhaps her advisors were right, and that it 
would cause more harm than good to report it. In the icy shower, she 
remembered how very nice Mr. Sloane had been to her, though that memory was 
hazy, and she couldn't tell which part of it had been real and which a 
dream. 

She dressed in her plainest panties--pink with just a touch of lace--a 
matching brassiere that was reassuringly constricting, and put on a bulky 
white angora pullover sweater and an old, voluminous black cotton skirt that 
came down to below her knees. In flat, sensible shoes, with her hair pulled 
back in a tight bun, she looked properly severe enough to confront the boys 
with learning while offering them nothing--not even a trace of lipstick--to 
tantalize their lusty little sexual appetites. 

She was a little later than the day before to the mess hall, but again she 
was the first to arrive. Going behind the serving partition to get her food, 
she was shocked to see Martha Wilkes, the camp cook, with the top of her 
dress stripped down to her waist, and two of the school's prize baboons 
sucking on her enormous big breasts like a pair of greedy piglets. 

Carolyn flushed scarlet but she remained expressionless as she said, "You 
ought to be ashamed of yourself!" 

Martha Wilkes hugged the wide-eyed boys closer and said, "You ought to mind 
your own business." 

"At least have the decency to stop!" 

"Why? It's just getting good. Help yourself to the French toast, blondie, 
and if you don't want to get fucked again, keep out of the forest" 

Carolyn ate alone, in silence, and when the first of the boys came into the 
mess hall, she got up and went to her classroom. There on the blackboard, 
with crude but disgusting clarity, was another picture of herself with the 
boys. Her stick figure was lying spread-eagled on the ground, shouting, 
"More! More!", while four masked boys stuck their pricks in her and 
spattered her with their loathsome juices. 

She'd almost been ready for it, but not for that, "More!", business. The 
eraser was gone, so she went quickly to Mr. Sloane's classroom and got one, 
rubbed her blackboard clean, muttering, "I didn't say anything about wanting 
more. It was all disgusting to me, like a very bad dream. I was going to 
forgive and forget, but if that's how those little hoodlums are going to 
act, at least HI get some kind of revenge on them." 

They came trooping in late, grinning lewdly and talking obscenely. She sat 
at her desk, knees together and hands folded, and when at last they'd taken 
their seats she said, "You've been wasting time and learning very little. I 
have a lesson schedule which I plan to adhere to. Anyone who doesn't keep up 
with me will fail this class and have to repeat it. There is the 
multiplicand and the multiplier, and . . ." 

"Let's fuck!" 

"Show us your tits, teacher!" 

". . . in division there is the divisor and the dividend, and here we have 
the elements in...." 

"Let's take off her pants and fuck her!" 

"Do a strip for us, Carolyn!" 

". . . multiplication and division. On page fifty-six in your book you will 
find . . ." 

"Let's all eat her box for lunch!" 

"Teacher, will you suck my prick?" 

She slammed her hand down on the desk, then pointed at one of the boys she'd 
seen with the cook that morning. "You! Get up here and drop your pants, 
right now!" 

He grinned at the rest of the class and slowly got to his feet, unbuckling 
his belt as he came up the aisle. He stood before her on her elevated 
platform, head thrown back and sneering as he dropped his pants. She planned 
on taking Mr. Sloane's advice with this application of corporal punishment, 
wielding the paddle against a naked bottom, knowing how much more it hurt, 
and further humiliating him before his peers before she did the job on him. 
But now as he dropped his pants she felt sure she recognized him as one of 
her assailants in the forest, and she became so flustered that her plans for 
humiliation went begging. She got up with the paddle, went behind him, and 
POW!, SWAT!, WHACK!, gave him just three swats with such force that part of 
her blonde curls came tumbling out of the bun on her head. 

He turned to face her, rubbing his bare bottom with one hand and stroking 
his prick with the other, making it swell, making it stiffen, making her 
eyes widen, and he said, "Is that all you got for me, teach?" 

"Take your seat. We must get on with the lesson." 

On and on she lectured, through continuous interruptions of catcalls, 
controlling herself, controlling herself. She worked from the book and at 
the blackboard, very actively, wishing the time would pass faster, and after 
about an hour of this, one of her students raised his hand. 

"Yes, uh, Kenny?" 

"My name's Jimmy, and I've gotta take a leak bad, teacher." 

The others laughed, of course, but Carolyn maintained her aplomb and said, 
"I'm afraid you're so far behind you'll just have to hold it, James." 

"But I gotta piss," he said, rising from his seat. "Give me the key to the 
John, damnit." 

"Come up here and get three swats for cursing in class, but you're not going 
to get the key to the rest room from me. You'll just have to wait until 
luncheon recess, and that goes for all the rest of you too." 

A chorus of moans went up. Their sound was more pleasing to Carolyn than 
those made by the perforated paddle on the boy's bare bottom. It wasn't much 
of a revenge to deprive them of the right to relieve themselves, but it was 
something, and Carolyn appreciated it. She suppressed a smile as she saw the 
increasing amount of fidgeting among her students, as she saw them looking 
at the clock more and more. Now she wanted the time to drag for them, and it 
certainly did, if their grumblings were any indication. One small victory, 
the harbinger of many others, she thought, when at last the bell rang and 
they all went charging out of their seats. 

Carolyn skipped lunch. She absolutely refused to sit down at a table with 
animals like those. Instead she strolled around the baseball diamond, walked 
between the playground and the edge of the forest, looking for birds in the 
branches and pretty flowers in the undergrowth. She wasn't hungry at all, 
and she felt very good, until she heard the sound of a snake in the woods. 

"Psssst!" 

She stopped and peered through the warm tangle of branches. Mr. Sloane had 
told her there were no. venomous snakes in the area, but still she was a 
little bit frightened and still she wanted to see it. 

"Psssst!" 

It couldn't be but a few yards deep in the forest, and she lifted her skirts 
well up over her knees and stepped over a charming little grouping of ferns 
to see if she could find it. 

"Pssst!" 

Deeper she went, pressing branches aside, still a little frightened, but 
enjoying that feeling too as she sought to commune with nature, all by 
herself in the forest. 

She was four steps into a little glade, a lovely little shaded clearing in 
the forest with sunbeams slanting through the branches before she saw them, 
four of them, all naked save for their masks and shoes, and one of them 
twirling a lasso in the fashion of a rodeo cowboy. 

"EEK! EEEEEEEK!" She turned to run, staggered sideways when her ankle 
twisted, and the rope fell over her head and tightened about her chest, 
pinioning her arms and biting deeply into her already tightly compressed 
breasts. "EEK! HELP! I'M BEING RAPED AGAIN!" she shouted, but the thick 
green foliage seemed to muffle her outcries as she was dragged back into the 
middle of the clearing, unable to even strike out at the boys this time. 

"Tie her hands behind her back. I want to see those big old tits they were 
talking about last night in the barracks." 

"String her up to that tree so's we can have us a good look at her." 

"HELP! THEY'RE GOING TO HANG ME!" 

"That's it. Hoist her arms up over her head." 

"Boy, look at those legs. I been dying to feel them all day in class. They 
look so damned good under her desk!" 

"Take her skirt right off!" 

"YOU BABOONS! YOU BEASTS! YOU MONSTERS! LET ME LOOSE!" 

"Christ, but she yells loud!" 

"Gag her. Here, I'll pull off her pretty little pink panties and stuff them 
in her mouth." 

"I want to stuff my cock in her mouth, man!" 

"HELP! HEL-L-L-L-L-LP! THEY'RE GOING TO KILL ME! I'M BEING RA .. . MMF! 
MMF!" 

Her panties silenced her. They were shoved in her mouth, smelling faintly of 
the lotion that Mr. Sloane had so lovingly applied to her ravaged vulval 
area the night before. She was entirely helpless with her arms stretched up 
over her head, entirely silenced by the silken gag in her mouth. 

They stripped her naked, and they took their time about it. She was already 
bare from the waist down, and while one of them poked and played about her 
shaven loins, another roved his hands over her exposed bottom, pinching and 
toying with the tender flesh there, sticking his dirty fingers in between 
the pristine white loaves of her buttocks. Another of her assailants took 
off her shoes and socks, then helped the fourth while together they 
scissored off her pretty white angora sweater and cut away her tight 
brassiere so that her lovely big breasts spilled out into the sunshine, 
their nipples made rosy pink and bone hard from her terror. 

"Damn, she's sure got 'em. They're ten times prettier than old Martha's." 

"And I bet they taste ten times as good." 

They'd stretched the rope so she was up on her tiptoes, and this presented 
her naked breasts just at the level of the boys' mouths so that they stood 
erect and comfortable while each of them sucked happily on a bright pink 
rigid nipple while he used his hands on the soft and creamy white mounds of 
her breasts. With her arms stretched upward like that, her breasts were 
understandably flattened, and this somehow made them seem more sensitive to 
the unwanted attentions they were getting. Carolyn could feel every little 
convolution of the tongues that laved over them, was aware of each small 
ridge of the fingers that played over her, but still she didn't weep, didn't 
shed a single tear. 

She bore it, but it wasn't easy, for down below they were trying further to 
break through her icy calm. One of them was down on his knees now, using his 
lips on her clitoris, trying to make it swell up and sexually respond, while 
the other was rubbing his dirty little prick all over her bottom, pushing it 
in the cleft between her buttocks to touch that sweet opening there that Mr. 
Sloane had so enchantingly described to her. 

"Nice tits. Really nice!" 

"The guys who jumped her yesterday were sure telling the truth about 'em." 

"Man, what a clit! Mmmmm-m-m-m-m. It sticks right out like a little finger! 
Mmmm-m." 

"I want to fuck her in the ass. Man, what an ass! But first I want to paddle 
her as hard as she got me this morning." 

That statement narrowed the identity of that rapist down to two, for Carolyn 
had only paddled two boys that morning, but the trouble was that in her 
state of extreme consternation and distress, she couldn't for the life of 
her recall who had received her corporal wrath. The boys in her classroom, 
it seemed, were all as faceless as this quartet of masked hoodlums in the 
forest. But then all thought of a later apprehension of even one of this 
band of rapists fled her, for the boy behind her began to paddle her 
soundly. 

WHACK! SPLAT! SMACK! The sound of wood against the tenderest of flesh 
resounded through the lovely glade as he swatted her hard. The boy in front 
of her was still sucking and licking her clitoris, and each of the blows 
from behind drove her forward against his mouth with such force that it was 
totally impossible that her clitoris remain under control. She could feel it 
swelling up with each of the blows, helped along by the suction on it, until 
it throbbed so strongly she thought it might burst. Even after the boy 
behind her quit his awful punishment, her body continued to thrust back and 
forth, whipping like a palm tree in the wind against the three sucking 
mouths on nipple, nipple and clit. 

"That was neat," said the one in the back. "Her ass is the color of her 
nipples." 

"Hey, let's spank her tits! Gimmie the paddle," said one, as he smacked his 
lips off her nipple. 

Carolyn shook her head wildly, shook her whole body in fact, but her mute 
protest did no good at all. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! 
The terribly hard paddle was forcefully swung against her tenderly soft 
breasts with great force and precision, while down below the boy on his 
knees sucked blithely away at her badly swollen clitoris and Carolyn watched 
in horror, ablaze with hot pain, while the perforations in the paddle left 
regular white disks on her poor punished breasts as they were turned crimson 
by the cruel paddle. 

"Take the panties out of her mouth and let her breathe." 

"Lower her down from that tree branch." 

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," she murmured, all but swooning as pure 
air rushed into her lungs and her lovely naked body began to crumple to the 
soft floor of the forest. 

"Let's take her over to that fallen tree and really give it to her good, 
really special." 

"Please, please, please," she said, "I've had enough, I've had more than 
enough." 

"What she say?" one asked, as she was pushed down with her soft white belly 
on the hard dark trunk of the fallen tree. 

"She said she wanted some more," was the reply. 

"No, I didn't say that," she explained, as her wrist rope was stretched 
forward and looped around a sapling. "I didn't say I wanted more, I said I'd 
had more than enough. Oh, no! Don't fuck me again, boys! I was fucked more 
yesterday than I ever was in my whole life!" 

"More?" one of them asked, apparently the one who was pushing his stiff 
little cock into her very open and buttery vagina. 

"Much more! Oh, much more!" she said, and he pushed it in harder, completely 
misconstruing her meaning. "NO, DON'T PUT THAT IN MY POOR VAGINA. PLEASE 
DON'T!" she shouted. 

"Okay," he said, and took it out, only to begin boring it into her anus. 

"NO, NOT THERE!!! NO, THAT'S THE WRONG PLACE, THE WRONG HOLE, YOU STUPID 
LITTLE BABOON! PUT IT IN MY VAGINA! STICK IT IN MY CUNT, YOU IDIOT!!!" 

Now, thoroughly excited, the boy didn't hear. He pushed it right on in and 
began to work it back and forth with vigor while Carolyn squalled and 
squirmed, fought against the ropes and tried to kick backward at him. They 
had her in their total control, and all she could do was relax and enjoy the 
feeling of the lessening, then the vanishing pain as she was thoroughly 
sodomized under the spreading pines. 

They all four did it to her there. Once she'd relaxed and gone stoic, she 
could bear it quite well, though she was unable to stop squirming because of 
the fiendish little itch that had been left on her clitoris by the one's 
lips and tongue. She was sweating and squirming, yelling and kicking, but 
she wasn't crying, she didn't shed a single tear throughout the ordeal of 
having four stiff cocks, one after the other, pushed in side her slippery, 
sliding asshole and rubbed all around, pulled back and forth, finally to 
spew a dirty load of sex juice inside her formerly virginal anus. Somehow 
she withstood it without shedding a tear, and she was even able to muster up 
a small, weary smile of triumph after they'd taken their filthy satisfaction 
with her and untied her and propped her back against the tree trunk. 

"Man, she looks like she really dug it." 

"Damn right she did. She's a hot one, a lot hotter than fat old Martha 
Wilkes." 

"But Martha sure knows how to cook." 

Carolyn just closed her eyes to them, feigning a faint, not even trying to 
listen when they began to buzz and giggle between themselves. Oddly enough, 
she did feel at peace lying there in the forest, backed up against the 
arboreal couch of her anal defloration, and she felt as if she might doze 
off and spend the afternoon in peaceful slumber, until it began to rain on 
her. 

It was warm rain, salty rain that struck her face, and it was a rain most 
reminiscent of her delightful shower of the evening before that was 
thrumming against her crotch. She opened her legs to feel more of that, 
licked her lips to savor the strangely compelling flavor of the salty rain, 
and at last opened her sleepy eyes to gaze up at its origin, high above the 
tree-tops, up the heavens where clouds are born, way up there where . . . 

"EEEE-E-E-EEEK!" They were urinating on her. The very concept of it was so 
shocking, so unbelievable, that for several moments Carolyn could only sit 
there and watch, with hot, shuddery waves of revulsion wracking through her 
naked body, while two streams of yellow arced down to splatter directly 
against her fearfully rigid nipples and two more converged to splash hard 
into her wide open slit, thudding and thrumming against her abused clitoris 
with steady vibrations. 

"EEEEEK! EEEE-E-E-EK!" She screamed and screamed, but that was the only part 
of her body that was functioning properly. The rest of it was paralyzed 
completely, with the other exception of her eyes, wide as saucers as she 
watched her luscious naked body being befouled. It had to be a dream, she 
told herself, some insane nightmare from which she'd wake up momentarily as 
clean and sweet as the day she was born. But the dream didn't end. It went 
on and on, for the boys could seemingly pee just as long as they could fuck. 
Their streams of yellow diminished extremely slowly while Carolyn sat there 
squealing, unmoving, until the quartet were all standing around her shaking 
the last few drops from their nasty little organs and grinning smugly 
through the mouth holes of their masks, and then at last she could move. 

And move she did. "EEEEEE-E-E-EEEEK! HELP ME, I'VE BEEN RAPED. EE-E-EK!" she 
shrieked, on her feet now and sending the boys scattering from the sheer 
force of her bellowings, plunging blindly about through the clearing in the 
forest, crashing through the trees, and bursting suddenly out into the 
playground area where all the rest of the students were gathered, all of 
them looking at her defiled nudity with large grins on their faces. 

CHAPTER SEVEN 

"EEEEEEEEK! HELP ME! GET AWAY, YOU!!!" She had to fight her way through 
them. If they'd had one spark of human decency in them they'd have tenderly 
carried her to a hospital bed where her body could be cleansed and healed. 
But these boys were such animals that they closed in and grabbed at her 
instead of helping her, grabbed at her naked breasts and buttocks, pinched 
her and even goosed her as she elbowed and fought her way through them, 
screaming all the way, trying to drown out their obscene catcalls. 

"Let's all take her on right now!" 

"Our turn comes tonight!" 

"Wow, does she ever jiggle!" 

"Teacher's got an ass on her like nobody's business!" 

"EEEEK! EEEEEEK!" Somehow she made her way through them, somehow she escaped 
from the seemingly thousands of hands that clutched and grabbed everywhere 
at her naked, sodden body, and the moment she was free of them she took off 
running for the group of buildings that made up the camp in the forest. She 
high-stepped it. She'd been something of a minor star on the girl's track 
team in college, placing well and consistently in the hurdle dashes, and as 
tired as she was now she outdid every time she'd ever been clocked in as she 
moved her body across the field. The gravel under her bare feet didn't 
bother her and neither did the bouncings and jouncings of her breasts and 
buttocks. She'd quit competition in college because even the tightest 
brassieres and shorts could not properly restrict her most feminine parts 
from their quite discomforting movements while she was on the track, but now 
her heavily bobbing breasts and her rapidly bouncing buttocks were reminders 
that gave her added speed as she ran like the wind, with more than a dozen 
shrieking, lusting animals at her flying heels. She was going so fast she 
ran right past the haven of her cabin, right past the mess hall where she 
might have found safety behind the skirts of Martha Wilkes, and she could 
only slow down when she came to the cabin which served as Mr. Sloane's 
office and living quarters. She opened the door without breaking stride, 
slammed it behind her, and leaned back panting against it. 

Mr. Sloane looked up from the thick steak on his desk with eyes that were 
very wide. "Well!" he said. "What brings you to see me on a lovely day like 
this, Miss Holm?" 

She was too out of breath to answer. She could only stand there panting and 
holding her hands before her private parts, while he pushed his chair back 
and got up, and with his crisp white linen napkin held before him, came 
solicitously over to her side. 

"What seems to be the trouble, dear? Have you had some more trouble with the 
boys? You realize, Miss Holm, that going out of your cabin in that attire 
simply invites trouble. You certainly worked up a sweat," he said, running 
his hand over her shoulder and down her arm to her hip and flank. 

"Not sweating," she said, gasping. "Th-They raped me again in the forest, 
then wet all over me. All over me!" 

His hand jerked away and he drew back. "Little jackals! They ought to be 
shot. Come. Let's get you cleaned up. Into the shower first thing, and then 
I'll hear all about it for my report. Go along through that door, Miss Holm, 
while I fetch you a drop of medicinal brandy." 

It was four ounces more than a drop, and she needed every bit of it. She 
drank it down while standing under the warm water of Mr. Sloane's shower, 
while he stood by, nodding and smiling his encouragement, giving her 
strength with his very presence. 

"Pissed on you, did they?" he said. "Tsk, tsk, tsk. Took you into the forest 
and raped you and then pissed all over that lovely body. What a sacrilege 
against beauty. Did they piss on those lovely breasts of yours, Carolyn?" 

She nodded, biting her lip, looking down at her lovely, thrusting breasts, 
relieved to see them still glowing pinkly, unstained, with the nipples still 
as firm as they could be. "Here too," she said, parting her legs, spreading 
the swollen lips of her vulva with her fingers to make sure there were no 
stains there. 

"Best wash that pretty little pussy really well," he said, and reaching 
through the water, he showed her exactly how, cupping his hand about her 
shaven pudendum to catch the cleansing water and rubbing it in deeply and 
extensively to wash away every trace of the boys' urine from her tender, 
private, pink tissues. His smile grew warmer as she thrust her hips forward, 
so that his shirtsleeve wouldn't be wet from the water. 

"Fanny, too?" he gently asked. 

She nodded abashedly, looking up at him through her long wet lashes. 

"Turn around, darling," he said, with a last patting rinse on her pubes, 
"and I'll help you wash there. That's right. Just bend over nicely and 
spread those lovely white asscheeks of yours so I can see up there and get 
this nice warm water all up against that pretty little mouth that's so 
cunningly hidden up there." 

"D-Did it leave any stains, any marks?" she anxiously asked. 

He gave her a thorough examination with his hands and said, "It looks just 
fine. Just as pretty as a picture, all rosy and pink as can be, dear." 

"Oh, I'm so relieved," she said, wilting a bit, having to hang onto the soap 
dish as her knees went weak under her. "I probably shouldn't tell you this, 
but . . . Oh, I'm so ashamed!" 

"What, dear? You can tell your principal anything. Remember the pal part of 
principal and tell me all about it. What was it? Did they paddle you again? 
Yes, I can see the marks. Poor thing, it must hurt a great deal, but we know 
how to take care of that, don't we? What a shame! To paddle a bottom as 
beautiful as that is a mortal sin. Tsk, I want to kiss it and make it well, 
but that wouldn't be a very mature thing to do now, would it?" 

"I guess not," she said, waggling and working her bottom a bit under his 
soothing, moving hands as she remained under the water, bent double at the 
waist with her back to the shower door. 

"Is that what they did to you, dear? Did they paddle you again, honey?" 

She nodded. "Yes, and not just on my bottom, but that. . . back there . . . 
that place you thought was so pretty . . . that was where they raped me this 
time," she said, her voice fading to a shamed little whisper as she 
completed her confession. 

"Where, here?!?" he said, placing the ball of his finger right where those 
four vile penises had entered Carolyn's body. 

Again she nodded, too close to tears to speak. 

"Well, we'll see to that right away. First a little first aid, then a more 
thorough examination and treatment later. The most important thing about 
first aid is cleanliness," he said, touching her hand as he picked up the 
soap and began to lather up her protruding bottom and the curvaceous crack 
between her buttocks. "Germs are everywhere, you know, and we've got to get 
rid of every last one of them. Hold still, dear, don't squirm and fidget 
around so, and I'll just get you nice and clean while I make my first 
inspection. In we go, that's right. Okay, now you can wiggle it a little if 
that helps you feel better." 

His finger, it seemed, was every bit as large as the penises that had 
entered her anus, but unlike the penises, the helping digit of his hand 
caused Carolyn no distress at all. She could even smile again as he slipped 
in and out of her with it, all smoothly done with the help of the 
lubricating and cleansing qualities of the soap. He felt all around in there 
while she swayed forward and back with the movements of his hand, while she 
heard but hardly listened to his soothing words. 

"It feels fine. I doubt if there's any damage, but we'll see about that 
later. Good and tight. No pain at all, is there? Sweet little mouth, all 
puckered up as if it's sucking my fingers. Let's see if we can get a third 
one in there. Here we go, easy does it, oh, yes, you've got a nice soft 
asshole that'll stretch right out and take almost anything. Mmmmm. Ohhhhh. 
Bet that feels good, eh? Bet you could spend the whole afternoon getting 
fingerfucked in the ass, you gorgeous blonde hunk of hot meat." 

"Mm-hm-m-m-m," she said, smiling and nodding, moving her tormented bottom 
about in a most luxurious fashion, much of her terrible ordeal gone, 
flitting out of her memory. 

"Whew!" he said, slipping his fingers out of her, and eliciting a tiny mewl 
of protest from her as he did. "That's about enough showering, honey pie. 
There's an energy crisis going on, and we've got a water shortage too. Come 
out of there, little girl, and we'll dry you off and put you in my nice soft 
bed and make you feel good all over." 

He did most of the drying off. Carolyn felt so weak and dreamy that it was 
all she could do to dry her hair while he rubbed her body with a thick 
Turkish towel. It was so wonderful to be waited on in the aftermath of the 
brutal treatment she'd received that Carolyn felt like a queen, especially 
when he was kneeling at her feet, blotting her crotch good and dry, pressing 
warm kisses against her there and telling her in reassuring tones that there 
was nothing at all wrong with being possessed of a shaven cunt. It was all a 
very welcome respite from the awful rigors of her experience in the forest, 
until he rose to rub her breasts dry. "Ouch!" 

He grinned, misunderstanding, and said, "Are those lovely big knockers of 
yours that sensitive, baby?" 

"It's what I was going to tell you before, Mr. Sloane. Th-they paddled me 
there, too," she said, looking down, still not quite believing that her 
breasts could retain their upstanding shape after the paddling they'd 
received. 

He was appalled. "What?!? Those jackals, those baboons, those hounds of 
Satan, they used your paddle on these beautiful breasts, on these luscious 
round orbs, on these great big heavenly boobies that any man in his right 
mind would give his left arm to just look at?!? Carolyn, I can't believe 
it!" 

"It's true," she said, blinking back tears. "See the marks it left?" she 
asked, lifting her breasts, cupping them in her hands and moving them about, 
showing him the dim circles left by the holes in the paddle. 

"I do believe you're right," he said, tenderly touching the circles with his 
fingertips, touching them with his lips in the softest, most gentle way. 
"Tsk. Still terribly sensitive from the way you jump. You're a very brave 
young woman, my dear. Come to my bedroom and I'll make your pretty titties 
all well. That's the girl. Go through here. This way, and we'll take your 
medicine, too. In we go. Just lie down, sweets." 

She arranged herself on the bed while he smiled and nodded and sampled the 
brandy from the neck of the bottle before filling a glass for her. He held 
the glass while she sat up and drank from it, then murmured her thanks and 
lay back on the broad, wide bed. She watched while he rolled up his sleeves, 
much in the fashion of the physicians she'd seen on television, and came to 
sit by her side with his bottle of lotion. 

He said, "Just put your arms up over your pretty head, dear. That's right, 
be comfy. I'll pour a little lotion on your poor sore breasts and work it in 
so well that soon you won't even know anything naughty's happened to you. 
Yes." 

She watched while he poured it on, laughed when he joked that it reminded 
him of a pair of strawberry sundaes being topped with marshmallow sauce. She 
watched while his good, gentle hands smoothed it all over her slightly 
flattened but nevertheless very upright breasts, paying special attention to 
the nipples, but not in any way neglecting the creamy mounds supporting 
them. And listened, smiling, while he talked to her warm and soft and low: 
"Yes, you've lovely breasts, dear, just lovely. I told you you could be a 
panty model? You could be a brassiere model too, with lovely big breasts 
like those. But it'd be a shame to cover up a pair of big titties like those 
with a bra. I'd rather see you working as a topless waitress or as a 
stripper or a showgirl in Las Vegas, though of course you'd never even 
consider that; there's no challenge involved in that sort of work." 

"Of course," she said, stretching and moving more comfortably on Mr. 
Sloane's bed while he massaged her tender breasts with his healing lotion. 

"Of course you wouldn't consider it," he agreed, "but it would make a lot of 
men happy, make them forget about their cares if they could feast their 
tired eyes on this lovely big pair of knockers that I'm touching. Boobies 
like that aren't to be seen every day, no indeed. They're so big and round, 
and still so firm. These nipples stick right up, perfectly pink, wonderfully 
hard and yet totally soft, and they fit right between a man's fingers. You 
see?" 

"Mm-hm. They sure do, Mr. Sloane," she said, as he moved his fingers as if 
trying to draw her nipples to an even more prominent pair of points. 

"You know what the men at a topless place would all want to do if they saw 
your pretty titties all naked like this?" 

"What, Mr. Sloane." 

"This," he told her, and bent low over her to place his pursed lips first on 
one nipple, then on the other. He did this slowly, leisurely, smiling up at 
her with his eyes as he very gently showed her how a real man would treat 
her breasts. When he winked at her she couldn't help but smile and wink 
back, imagining herself a wicked Las Vegas showgirl, and hugging his head 
harder against her bosom to add to the illusion. His hair was attractively 
tousled and his eyes were shining brightly when she released him and he sat 
up again, cheeks flushed, breathing deep and strong. His hands went back to 
work right away, and his voice was more resonant as he spoke: "Yeah, you've 
got a great set, baby. Any man would like to fall asleep every night with 
one of those in his mouth. Women pay surgeons thousands of bucks for 
silicone titties like that. Honest to God, Carolyn, you've got better tits 
than Marilyn Monroe had or Racquel Welch or any of them! What's wrong?" 

A tiny frown had knit her clear brow. She stirred uncomfortably as his hands 
stopped moving and she said, "I hate that word. It's so vulgar." 

"What word?" 

"You know." 

"No, I don't. Tell me. Say it." 

"Well . . . tits," she said, and had to look away, blushing furiously. 

He turned her head to face him, looked deep into her eyes with a very 
serious expression on his face, and said, "There's nothing in the world 
wrong with that word. It's used in the animal world all the time, but 
spelled differently. Teats. T-e-a-t-s. Tits. We're animals, Carolyn, and you 
have tits, so let's face it, let's not beat about the bush. Now, what are 
these?" he asked, firmly cupping her breasts in both hands. "Say it, dear." 

"Ti ... oh, I hate to. Tits. There. Now are you satisfied?" 

He shook his head. "You'll have to do better than that if you're the 
educated, broad-minded woman I think you are. Now I want you to put your 
hands on them along with mine and tell me exactly what we're doing." 

She sighed and placed her hands on her breasts. They were large enough to 
accommodate two pairs of hands. She said, "We're feeling my t-tits, making 
them feel better. Okay?" 

"No, don't take your hands away. What did I do just a second ago that all 
men would like to do?" 

"You kissed my tits. You sucked my nipples and kissed my tits, Mr. Sloane." 

"Fine. Now take a good look at them and tell me what you see, how they look 
to a man." 

"Mr. Sloane, do I have to?" 

"You do," he said, his voice as firm as his hands. 

"Well, I guess you could say I have pretty tits." 

"Carolyn! You've a much better vocabulary than that!" 

"Okay, they're gorgeous big tits, perfectly lovely knockers with nipples 
like Parisian rosebuds and mounds as white as snow." 

"Good! Good! Go on!" 

"Not many women have tits as good as mine. My tits stick right out through a 
sweater and they stand right up without any help from a bra. I've got tits 
that'd knock a man's eye out, tits that'd stop traffic, tits that feel even 
bigger than they really are when I've got a man's hot hungry mouth on them, 
sucking their nipples and licking them and kissing them all over while we 
both feel them up good and play with them and squeeze, and Mr. Sloane, you 
really know how to suck my tits! 

"Oh, that feels good!" she said, writhing un-inhibitedly on the bed, while 
he smacked and sucked on them. "Feels so fucking good when you suck my big 
old tits and make the nipples hard like velvet covered balls in your mouth 
and whip them with your tongue and even bite them a little. Fuck, it even 
felt good when those little jackals pissed on my tits, my tits, my gorgeous 
big tits, my perfect big lovely tits," she fervently said, rolling about on 
the bed while Mr. Sloane sucked avidly on her nipple and she milked her tit 
to a bigger point for him, while with the other hand she rubbed hard at her 
marvelously burning clit, all thrust forward through the smoothly shaven 
lips of her cunt, big and fat as the fingers that pulled on it. 

He licked his big tongue over the crested point and rolled her over on her 
belly, saying, "That's it, you prim prude nymphomaniac schoolteacher, you 
gorgeous hot whore, just keep on finger-fucking yourself and cumming while I 
take out my big hot cock and stick it right up your asshole. Lift your hips, 
damnit! Let me French you there first! Mmm. Mmm! MMMM!" 

"Stick that hot tongue up my ass and make it feel good, you horny bastard," 
she said, waving her butt in the air, knees wide apart, cunt getting her 
entire hand wet as she pawed at her bursting clit and shoved two fingers in 
her hole. "Get my hot asshole all wet and steamy with your tongue and then 
shove your cock in it and cum with me before I go out of my mind!" 

"Here it comes, baby. You feel it?" 

"Oh, God! Feel it all the way up to my tits! Shove it in! Stick it in! I 
want that hot cock in my asshole. Oh, give it to me. More! MORE! LOTS 
MORE!!!" 

Cheek and tits mashed flat against the bed, ass as high as it would go, she 
rocked back and forth with his deep, strong thrusts, moaning and mewling and 
laughing, while he dug his strong fingers into her soft hips and shoved his 
cock in her butt with such force that his big, heavy balls slapped up 
against her hand that was pulling on her clit. Up on his knees, he was 
grunting like an animal, snarling with each of his plunges into her body. 

"CUM! CUM, DAMN YOU!" she squalled, cunt juice dripping down her thighs, 
making the room reek of pussy, and then a great cataclysm of an orgasm broke 
over her as she felt his fingers tighten even more, felt his pistoning cock 
swell rhythmically and squirt hotly in her. 

"EEEK! EEK! I LOVE IT! I LOVE TO CUM AND CUM AND CUM-M-M-M WITH YOU! I LOVE 
YOU!!!" 

"AND I LOVE YOU, YOU HOT WHORE! UR-R-R-R-R-RGH! SHOOTING A GALLON IN YOU! 
FUCK YOU FOREVER! CUM!!! CUM HARDER, CAROLYN!!!" 

"EEEK! EEEEK AAOOO! AAAOOoo . . ." 

She passed out from the intensity of it. She fainted dead away as the peak 
of sensation passed and she slipped forward and was flat on her belly, 
unconscious, when he withdrew his cock from her, all glistening and gooey 
with cum. She didn't stir when he washed her with a cloth, only smiled and 
murmured when he kissed her, and he dressed and allowed her to sleep for ten 
minutes before he woke her up. 

"Feeling better, Carolyn?" 

"What? Yes. Yes, much, thank you. Your massage was so nice that I must have 
fallen asleep. What time is it?" 

He looked at his wrist watch. "Time for us to get back for the afternoon's 
lessons. Think you're up to it?" 

"Of course I am." She sat up, drawing the bedspread chastely around herself. 
"I'm a professional teacher and there are students out there in bad need of 
an education. But I do need some clothes." 

He laughed. "You certainly do, my dear. Wait here, rest a bit longer, and 
I'll dash over to your cabin and bring back whatever you'd like." 

"Just about everything I have was sent to the laundry. If you wouldn't mind, 
just bring back the bundle and I'll be fine." 

"Glad to," he said, and gave her a fatherly peck on the lips. 

"You've been so very kind, Mr. Sloane, so understanding," she said, and 
kissed him back. 

"All a part of my duties as an administrator," he told her, and slipped the 
tip of his tongue between her lips. 

"When it comes to you, pal is certainly a part of the word, principal," she 
said, opening her kiss-bruised lips widely, and swirling deep in his mouth 
with her tongue. 

"If you have any further trouble at all, come straight to me," he told her, 
and slipped the coverlet out of her hand for another tonguing kiss on her 
nipple. 

"You can rest assured I'll do that," she said, smiling and pushing her 
gorgeous big tit against his kind face. "I really can't tell you how much I 
appreciate all you've done for me today, Mr. Sloane." 

He rose licking his lips, pecked her again, and said, "Believe me, the 
pleasure was mine. Carolyn?" 

"Yes?" she said as he stood up, and she leaned forward, the bedspread 
slipping out of her hand. "Yes, Mr. Sloane?" 

"I think you should call me David, at least when we're alone." 

"David," she said, and kissed his hand. "Such a nice name." 

He took his hand from hers and zipped up his fly. "And Carolyn?" 

"Yes, David? Yes?" she beamed up at him. 

"If you'd like, you can finish my steak out there. Martha's always bringing 
them to me and I get a little tired, of them three times a day." 

CHAPTER EIGHT 

Sitting at his desk, wrapped in his robe, eating the remnants of his steak, 
Carolyn hadn't a thought in her head. It wasn't until he opened the door, 
bundle of laundry in hand, that it all came flooding back to her, making her 
feel all warm and wonderful, suffusing her cheeks with a girlish blush. 

He said, "Here are your things, Miss Holm." 

The flush left her cheeks. Her mind became very confused, and her face went 
pale as she stammered, "Th-thank you, D-D-D- ... Mr. Sloane." 

He checked his watch. "You have three minutes till class starts. Please try 
to make it on time." 

"Yes, sir. I'll be on time," she said, getting up at once, lowering her head 
so he couldn't see the tears shining in her eyes, though there was no need 
for that gesture as he'd already closed the door and left her alone. 

Three minutes to go. She quickly tore off the brown paper from her bundle of 
clean clothes and rummaged through them for one of the four pairs of panties 
she'd sent in for washing. They were all there, but each of them had had the 
crotch cut out of them by one of the cruel boys who worked in the laundry. 
Close to panic, she sought for a brassiere, and found that those too had 
been mutilated by a scissors, for there were no ends to the conical cups. 
Grimly, however, she donned panties and bra of pale blue, trimmed with lacy 
edges, though the frilly lingerie gave no protection at all to the most 
modest portions of her anatomy. Her nipples stood out like beacons, and her 
entire vulval area was fully exposed to the warm mountain air. She shook her 
head in disgust, covered her face in embarrassment, then in renewed panic 
pawed through her outer garments that had been so trustfully given over to 
the diabolical hands of some juvenile jackal who worked in the laundry. 

Sure enough, the first dress she pulled out--one of her favorites--had been 
cut from bodice to waist and from hemline to waistband on both sides. It 
might be repaired, but certainly not in less than three minutes. A blouse 
had had large holes cut in it where her partially exposed breasts would show 
through and a skirt had the entire seat of it snipped away. With growing 
haste, Carolyn quickly went through the rest of the stack until she found a 
charming little summery yellow dress that was perfectly intact. She put it 
on as quickly as she could, ripping several inches of side seam in the 
process, for whoever had gotten his hands on the pretty little cotton 
garment had apparently boiled it in water, for it was shrunken several very 
vital sizes. 

It was so tight she could barely get into it. It was the tightest thing 
she'd ever worn. It fit her closer than a second skin, and when she'd at 
last succeeded in getting the zipper zipped, she couldn't even get a deep 
breath for fear it would burst. In Mr. Sloane's mirror she saw that her 
buttocks were outlined in shocking clarity, as if she was a prostitute 
advertising her wares rather than a hard-working and dedicated 
schoolteacher. 

The upper mounds of her breasts swelled out alarmingly over the square cut 
bodice of the little dress, and her nipples--not covered at all by her bra, 
and rigid in her panic--pushed forth at the thin fabric to show themselves 
in very clear bas relief. The skirt came up to just an inch or two below the 
big round swells of her buttocks, and each time she tried to pull it down in 
the back, it rose in the front to a point where her crotchless panties were 
in danger of being seen. 

She couldn't possibly wear it, but when she tried to remove it, the strained 
zipper wouldn't function, and her efforts succeeded only in opening up the 
seam under her other arm, so that her ribcage was exposed on both sides. She 
was biting her lip and wringing her hands when the bell rang to summon the 
boys from their games and her from her luncheon period. She steeled herself, 
back rigid, and taking very small steps lest she rupture the dress farther, 
walked toward her classroom in her bare feet. 

Carolyn was greeted by a chorus of whistles, wolf calls and words as she 
entered her classroom. As compacted as her figure was, her breasts and 
bottom jiggled tightly, and she felt more exposed than when she'd been 
racing naked across the field before the same eyes that were devouring her 
now. Cheeks flushed but head held high, she made her way to her desk, and 
felt another inch of seam open up when she lifted her foot in stepping up to 
her little platform. There was no way in the world she could sit down 
without her dress bursting like a balloon full of water, and so she picked 
up her history text and held it open before her placid but red face, and 
patiently waited for the insults to stop. 

"Let's see you touch your toes now, teacher!" 

"Man, look at her nipples sticking out, hard as rocks!" 

"Let's see you squat down and take a leak, Miss Holm!" 

"Hey, how about letting me suck your pussy some more?" 

"I'd sure like to paddle her now!" 

"What about it? Can I suck your pussy again?" 

Eventually even jackals such as those grew weary of bating her, and Carolyn 
said, "Please open your books to page one-twenty-four while I read to you: 
The armament at the onset of the Civil War was relatively crude and 
unrefined. Both the Union and the Confederate troops were equipped with very 
few rifled weapons, and as a result the accuracy of the balls they fired . . 
." 

"You fire my balls, teacher!" 

"Hey, let me kiss your box! Please!" 

". . . left a great deal to be desired. Of necessity, this was quickly 
corrected and considerable improvements were made on the firearms and 
artillery used by both sides. Whereas at Fort Sumpter, cannonballs and 
musket balls were sent off with little hope of striking their targets, by 
the time of the Battle of the Wilderness the breech-loading. . . ." 

"I'd like to load your breeches, baby!" 

"She's got an asshole that's tighter than my hand!" 

". . . rifle had been issued to the Federal forces and at least twenty 
percent of the Rebel troops had rifled firearms in their possession when 
they entered the thick forest for the bloody, week-long battle." 

So it went for the afternoon. Carolyn had to stand erect before her 
demeaningly raucous charges while she read from the text book after text 
book, scarcely daring to move, growing faint and summoning up energies to go 
on from she knew not where. Her notion of depriving them the use of the rest 
room was gone, but only one boy asked to leave the room. When he did, she 
told him to take the key off the hook on the side of her desk and went on 
reading. The others, if they had to go at all, just held it, unwilling to 
ease any part of the burden of all those hot little eyes on her immodestly 
clad body. 

Somehow she got through the afternoon without fainting, helped by the awful 
knowledge of what they'd do to her if she fell down in a swoon. Somehow she 
made it without taking that one deep breath that would show them her nipples 
and her crotch, inflaming them to the point where they'd all jump her at 
once and she'd have to somehow take ten hard cocks in her body, all at the 
same time. And somehow she made them all leave after she'd dismissed them, 
so she could sag against her desk and feel a seam give a bit more and not 
even care about it. She turned to go, to retreat in dignity, and saw the 
drawing she'd missed on the blackboard when she'd so distractedly entered 
the room. 

It was her again, shouting, "More! More!", as four penises sprayed water on 
her smiling face and jutting breasts and outlandishly big buttocks. "Filthy 
little fucking bastards," she muttered, and carefully got down off her 
platform and walked with baby steps back to the sweet sanctity of her cabin. 

As soon as she'd closed the door behind her she stretched very expansively, 
and the dress came apart at every seam. She picked off the shreds of it, 
took it completely off without even opening the zipper, pulled off her 
ruined lingerie and headed for the shower. She bathed quickly, efficiently, 
washing away the feeling of all those eyes on her naked flesh, using lots of 
soap and even more elbow grease until she was clean, clean, clean, and very 
very tired. She dried off perfunctorily and went yawning to the old chest of 
drawers that had been issued to her, climbed into a long black nightie that 
had been a gift from Iris, and got into bed and fell fast asleep. 

It was well after dark when Carolyn awakened, hungry but entirely rested. 
She rose from her bed and turned on every light in the little house, for she 
knew that light staves off the attack of wild animals in the forest, and 
city girl that she was, she didn't know what sort of beasts roamed the night 
in these parts, but she was sure they were out there. She drew down the 
shades, too, for it certainly would do to have one of the boys seeing her in 
her nightie and trying to climb through her window. 

It was truly a lovely nightie, representative of her friend Iris' good 
taste. Black, its satin ruffled hem just kissed the floor around Carolyn's 
bare feet, and it had matching satin ruffles around the plunging bodice of 
it and down across the very low back. It was sleeveless and it was so thin 
that it could clearly be seen through, but the night was nice and warm, and 
Carolyn was entirely comfortable wearing the long nightie, slit up its sides 
and further ruffled to a point very close to her hip. 

Its gossamer folds swept about her as she moved about her little house in 
search of a bite to eat. She was thinking pleasant thoughts, picturing Iris 
lounging on the bed, watching her every movement through curling cigar 
smoke, and showing off a bit for her imaginary guest. There wasn't a bite of 
food to be found, however, and it was much too late for dinner at the mess 
hall, and so Carolyn's search was in vain, until she came across a bottle of 
gin in the bottom of her suitcase. There was no ice to be had of course, but 
she pretended she was mixing a pitcher of martinis as she poured out four 
ounces in an old jelly jar, held it out in question to the empty bed, then 
shrugged and smiled and drank it down. It warmed her further, and the hunger 
pangs stopped before it had all reached her glowing stomach. 

"It's a lovely night, Iris," she said. "Here, I'll pull up the shades, throw 
open this window, and together we can look up at the stars. It's glorious up 
here in the mountains. I'm so glad you took me here, my darling. Come put 
your lovely arms around me and . . . 

"Oh, how foolish," she said. "Iris is long gone, a dark dead part of my 
past, and here I am exiled to live in the middle of a pack of jackals, all 
because of her. Well, forgive and forget, and above all, make the best of 
things." 

The window was open, the night was warm and clear, so Carolyn stood there 
and took the deep breathing exercises she'd missed that morning. She filled 
her healthy young lungs over and over, enjoying the soft kiss of the 
whispering nylon against her nipples and tummy and buttocks, refusing to 
think of how her body had been so cruelly abused by her students. She did 
think about David Sloane, a wonderful man, a mesmerizing man, who did things 
to her either in her dreams or in reality that she'd never thought she'd 
permit any man to do. She thought about him and she thought about a more 
tranquil existence for herself as she turned an about face and began 
touching her toes before the low-silled window. 

She was breathless and glowing and happy when she'd finished her exercises. 
She let her laughter tinkle out through the night and said, "Who needs 
dinner? I've got everything I need right here in my snuggly little nest in 
the forest." 

She went to where she'd left the bottle and poured out four more ounces of 
gin, opened her front door and strolled out onto the little veranda there. 
"Perfectly glorious night," she said, sipping and leaning out over the 
rough-hewn railing, "but we need a little music." 

Inside was her transistor radio. She brought it out on the porch with her, 
tuned it to a station that had dance music with a heavy beat, and did a few 
turns and swirls on her front porch, glass in hand as her partner, humming 
along with the lively tune. The next tune was livelier still. She set down 
her glass on the arm of the porch chair, hiked up her nightie to her hips, 
and rocked on out with the music, throwing back her lovely blonde head and 
laughing, wholly exhilarated with the night and the gin and the music, not 
caring at all if there was a pack of bears out there in the darkness. 

"Catch me and eat me if you can, you naughty things, you mean old bears," 
she called out, laughing and turning her back on them and the dimly lighted 
buildings beyond, hiking her skirts up higher and waggling her panty-model's 
fanny at them. 

Again the music changed, this time to a gutsily romantic tune sung by a 
deep-throated contralto torch singer, and Carolyn hung on the upright post, 
hugging it pressing her cheek against it while she gazed up at the moon, as 
full as her bosom, as round as her bottom. 

"Oh, David," she murmured, pushing her soft pube against the hard wood, 
"your cock's so big tonight, and I need it so bad, so very bad that I . . . 

"Oh, crap," she said, and flounced over to the chair, knocked back the rest 
of the gin, and flopped down in it, legs wide apart and hands dangling over 
the arms. "I don't need asshole David, I don't need cigar-chewing Iris, I 
don't need anybody but good old me. Fuck the world, and FUCK EVERY ONE OF 
YOU BABOONS OUT THERE IN THE BARRACKS WHO TOOK OFF MY CLOTHES AND RAPED ME!" 

She settled back feeling much much better, but still not good enough. In 
strange country, surrounded by terror and confusion, Carolyn set about to 
escape, at least for a little while. 

Up came her nightie. She bunched the diaphanous folds of it in her lap, 
slouched lower on the cushions of the chair, and began pulling and rubbing 
at her clitoris. She sat there with her legs far apart, a twisted grin on 
her face, watching every movement of her fingers by the light that glowed 
out from her cabin, while she made herself feel good, while she let herself 
know for sure she was a self-subsistent woman. 

"You don't need cocks or tongues or anything, baby, not when you've got 
these fingers. You're beautiful, you know that? I like you shaved. More to 
see. You're so damned pretty I can hardly blame them for wanting to stick 
their cocks and their tongues in you. Old asshole down there, you must be 
just as pretty, too. Shame I can't see you. I'll go get a mirror in a 
minute, but first take care of you, baby-doll, oh yessss, oh yes-s-s-s-s. 

"Uh, uh, uh, uh! Fuck that finger, baby. Here's two of them, just have a 
ball. FUCK THEM, DAMNIT, GET YOUR ASS IN GEAR! Oooo-o-o-o-o! Ooo baby, 
that's it. Jesus, don't you look good when you're fuckin' something, 
anything, but 'specially these good ol' fingers. 

"Fuck those fingers, clitty-poo, jam yourself right in there between 'em. Oh 
baby, does that ever feel good. Cum-cum-cum! Oh, yes, cum, cum, CUM! Uh! Uh! 
Oh God, I love it, love sex without pain, without hassle, without anybody 
but good old me! Uff! Uff! FUCK AND CUM! FUCK AND CUM! OOOO! OOooooooo! 
OOOooo-o-o-o-o. . . " 

She lay back in the chair, panting and exhausted, knowing she'd had enough 
but unwilling to call it quits. Her tits were there, her lovely tits, rising 
and falling with her deep breathing, neglected while she'd been trying to 
please her pussy. She grinned as she slipped her hands inside the bodice of 
her nightie, squeezed them and pulled the nipples, watching through slitted 
eyes and pretending they were someone else's hands doing that to her. Whose? 
David's? Iris's? Spike's? No, not even the thought of him could bring the 
response Carolyn wanted. 

She was getting discouraged, but she'd be damned if she'd quit, not with the 
night still young and the moon still full, the music still beating and her 
heart still pumping. But working at her cunt didn't seem to be the answer, 
either, for her clit lay sleeping, not raising its pretty pink nose even at 
the most intimate of touches from her fingers. 

"I need another ounce or two of gin, that's my problem," she said, and 
rising from the chair, she smoothed the folds of her nightie down around her 
pale white body in lady-like fashion and went back inside her house. 

It was filled with boys. There must have been at least a dozen of them 
there, on her bed, in her chairs, standing up, all looking at her and 
smiling. They were as naked--no more so--than before, for now in addition to 
their hard pricks staring at her, she could see their grinning faces, for 
not a one of them had a mask on. 

CHAPTER NINE 

Carolyn couldn't let out with so much as a yip before a hand was clamped 
over her mouth from behind by one of them. The two she knew as Rusty and 
Jimmy came quickly forward to grasp her arms, preventing her from hitting a 
single one of them, and she was dragged to the center of her room where they 
all converged on her at once to paw over her body through the ridiculously 
thin folds of the single garment that so inadequately covered her twisting, 
writhing body. 

"Get that thing off of her," said Ronnie. "Now, she looks really, sexy in 
it, man," said Sandy. 

"We want her naked!" Rusty insisted. 

"Well, don't tear it off her!" protested Ken. 

They eased it off her shoulders, slithered it down her body, and all she 
could do was roll her eyes helplessly, searching for aid that would never 
come. Their hands were all over her. Anyplace they wanted to touch her naked 
body was available to them, and everyplace they touched they left a warmly 
glowing mark. Up between her legs the hands went, and all over her quivering 
breasts and squirming buttocks, all up and down her arms and legs, on her 
throat and on her face, on her back and inside those two orifices of her 
body that had already been violated by eight of the boys in the room. 

Her legs began to collapse and they had to hold her up, then half carry her 
to her bed, where they sat her down. The one behind her, Bob, let go of her 
mouth, and she sat there panting while Earl and Pete held her upright by her 
arms and Mike and Roy held her knees apart "I want to have me a blow job!" 
said Rusty. "Me too!" Jim enthused, and both of them jumped at her with 
their hard pricks at the ready, pushing them against her face, making her 
twist her head about, lips tightly compressed, blinded by the rubbery soft 
heads of the pair of pricks trying to get inside her mouth. 

"Mmmf! Mmmf! No, don't d...." 

The moment her lips parted to shout, they were inside her mouth, both of 
them, pushing past her lips and teeth, filling her mouth with hard male 
flesh, making it impossible for her to take a breath. She fought against 
them, quite helplessly, but was unable to even turn away when her hair was 
grabbed and her head held. Through eyes brimming with tears she saw the 
hairy bases of the two things that were trying to choke her, saw the thick 
white columns that terminated inside her mouth, saw Rusty's little hand 
frantically pumping at the shaft of his cock, saw his hips contract and 
heard his moans as he began to ejaculate, right inside her formerly 
inviolate mouth. 

"Mmmf! MMMMF!" 

"Man, look at her try to spit it out!" 

"WHEW! Man, I'm really . . . WHEW! . . . really cummin'!" 

"Hey, don't choke her!" 

"I'd sure like to eat her box about now." 

"Well, who's stopping you?" 

"Oh, boy! Make way!" 

"Man, old Rusty's really getting off a load, and I'm about to make it too." 

"Jimmy, don't drown her with it. She's got more than she can handle right 
now." 

"Like heck. The way she's sucking, you'd think she'd never get enough." 

The room fell silent, the raucous clamorings died away, and except for the 
sound of Carolyn's lips and tongue and gullet working, it was as quiet as 
could be in her little cabin in the mountains. The boys were so amazed that 
they released her arms, the better to come around and see the beautiful 
blonde young schoolteacher as she sucked two cocks at once, tears flowing 
down her lovely cheeks to mix and mingle with the tiny dribble of white that 
had overflowed from the corner of her distended lips. Her eyes were closed, 
her face very clear, and she looked like a Madonna as she sucked the two 
boys off. The moment her hands were free she leaned a bit forward and slowly 
stroked Jimmy's cockshaft with her left, while with her right she fondled 
and hefted Rusty's balls, as if to coax a little more juice out of them. 

"Man, she looks like she really digs it," said Ken in awed tones. 

"I guess she does!" Pete concurred. 

"Out of the way, Rusty!" said Jimmy, " 'cause here I goo-o-o-o-o-o-o!" 

Rusty obligingly withdrew his cock from the mouth of their seated 
schoolteacher. She helped him along with a little shove. Now she bent 
forward more, and her brows knit in concentration as she pushed Jimmy's hand 
aside and took a firm but delicate grip on the shaft of his cock. Her lips 
were all thrust forward, encircling him warmly just beneath the knob of his 
slender white cock, and with lips and tongue and hand urging him on, Jimmy 
sighed explosively and began to shoot in her mouth, and at once her 
expression became tranquil again, joyful and clear, as her cheeks worked 
rhythmically and her slender throat could be seen to contract in the same 
tempo as the repeated tiltings of Jimmy's hips. 

The boys watched in respectful silence while she sucked him completely dry, 
leaving him sighing softly and grinning like a fool. Her lovely blue eyes 
were shining when she slipped her lips off his prick, licked them, and 
looked around at her little circle of students. 

She laughed, wiped a droplet of cum from her chin and dabbed it away with 
her tongue. 

"Delicious. Absolutely scrumptious. And it wasn't just because I missed my 
dinner tonight. Boys, why didn't you tell me how lovely your cum tastes? You 
know just because I'm your teacher, that doesn't mean I know everything 
there is to know." 

Kenny shrugged and said, "How should we know? None of us have ever tasted 
it." 

Her laughter tinkled. "Of course. How foolish of me. Who's this down here?" 
she asked, and lifted the little head that had been busily burrowing away 
between her legs. "Doug, what a help you were to me, darling." She kissed 
him on the lips. She tucked his head away and said, "Anyone else feel like a 
nice blow job? I may not be a real expert at it yet, but with your help it 
won't be long before. . . ." 

Another cock was presented to her, and she immediately interrupted herself 
to take it in hand, lick her plump lips, and cover it with butterfly kisses 
before licking it lavishly and sucking it inside her lovely warm mouth. 

"If she's not an expert now," said its owner, a great lout of a boy named 
Bob, the same one who'd been her gag when she'd first entered the room a few 
moments before, "then she sure learns fast. Wow! Oh, wow! I think the top of 
my head's gonna come off!!!" 

He went up on his toes and began twisting like a Dervish, but Carolyn stayed 
with him all the way, furrowed brows smoothly clarifying as she made the 
good stuff flow, out through his prick and into her mouth, onto her tongue 
and down her greedily gulping throat. 

"Nice big load," she said, and gave him a kiss on his balls and a pat on his 
behind before looking around for the next ready cock. There were plenty to 
be had. Once the ice had been broken, so to speak, all the boys wanted to 
take a plunge in the bottomless lake of her mouth, a lake that was by no 
means icy, if the testimony of the first three blowees could be relied upon. 
Carolyn laughed and played eeny-meeny-miney-moe with the veritable forest of 
young cocks being thrust at her willing mouth from every side. She teased 
them along, instinctively knowing they loved it and that it built up a 
bigger load for her new wonderful appetite, but then through this lovely 
array of hard young cocks she saw one boy who stood off from the others. 

He was a plumpish boy, one who was in Mr. Sloane's classroom, one who stood 
there with his cute little tummy bulging out, his hands clasped behind his 
back, his chin on his chest, and his truly handsome pecker sticking right 
straight out at her. She beckoned him over, and the forest of pricks parted 
for him. 

"And what might your name be?" 

"Charles." 

"My, this is a lovely prick you've got here. A real, man-sized cock. Would 
you like your new teacher to suck it off for you? Would you like to give her 
a load of nice cum?" 

He nodded bashfully and said, "I'd sure like to give you my jizz, but I 
don't really go for blow jobs. What I like is a good, hard screw, Miss 
Holm." 

"Then you shall have it by all means. How very selfish of me to forget about 
the very best part of sex. Doug, get up from there. Doug, you little imp, 
get your tongue out of my pussy so Charles can put this perfectly divine 
cock of his in it, right up to the hilt! Get away from there, Doug. Obey me 
right now, or you're going to get it in class tomorrow. Just look at him, 
boys! He acts as if he doesn't even hear me. What a greedy little 
pussy-hound!" 

They finally had to drag him away from Carolyn's admittedly delicious little 
cunt, whereupon the beaming Charles said, "Thank you, Miss Holm. Would it be 
asking too much of you if you'd . . . well ... do me another little favor?" 

"Anything," she said, fondling that strikingly fat cock of his, kissing it 
warmly, but being careful not to excite it to a premature ejaculation. 

"I like dogs a lot," he said, "but even more than that, even more than 
anything in the whole wide world!" he said, swinging out his arms to 
encompass the Earth, "I like your ass! I could sit and look at it all day 
long, and you'd make me the happiest boy in camp if you'd let me put it in 
you doggy style, so's I could look down and see your great big beautiful ass 
while I was fucking you. Is that asking too much, Miss Holm? I promise I'd 
be good in class if you let me and I'll do all my homework from now on. 
Honest Injun, cross my heart!" 

"You silly," she said, and kissed his ruddy red cockhead a final time, for 
the moment. "I admire how our friends in the animal world do things too, and 
I'd just adore getting it from you doggy style. Come along, Charles. Get up 
on the bed behind me, while I get up on my hands and knees. That is the way 
to do it, isn't it?" 

They all assured her that it was, and Carolyn assumed the position. As young 
Charles proudly poked at her beautifully exposed twat with his nice, fat 
cock, she smiled back at him over her shoulder and said, "If you happen to 
miss in your excitement and hit the other hole a few times, think nothing of 
it. I won't complain a BIT!" 

His entry was superb. Carolyn, in her excitement at the newly discovered 
joys of cock-sucking, had forgotten all about her hungry twat. Doug's 
cunnilingus had served only to whet its lusty appetite, but now Charles' 
cock was giving it the attention it truly deserved. His cock was so nice and 
fat that it pushed her plump pink cunt lips in along with the cock itself, 
and this quick and very thorough filling of Carolyn's needy little hole was 
so poignantly delightful that she began to weep again. 

"Take it easy with your damned elephant's cock, Charles!" said Bob. "Christ 
sake, you're hurtin' her!" 

"Not a bit of it!" she said, wiping away her tears of joy and snuffling just 
a bit, smiling radiantly over her shoulder at the steadily pumping boy whose 
charmingly bulging tummy rested so comfortably on her upturned bottom. 
"Charles has a perfectly delightful cock and I'm enjoying it thoroughly. Oh 
yes! Indeed I am!" 

The lovely orgasmic shivers were rippling through her as she worked in 
conjunction with the boy behind her. He was positively beaming with boyish 
adoration for her as he knelt there with his hands and his gaze on that 
beautiful white rump that he so admired, pumping surely and steadily, his 
cock drawing out her cuntlips to their proper position and working his organ 
very nicely in the highly sensitive portals of Carolyn's cunt. Though his 
cock wasn't overly long, its substantial girth gave those portals the nice 
stretching they needed and simultaneously provided a fine friction that 
Carolyn could feel pulling and pushing at her clitoris. 

"Oh! Oh, perfectly delightful!" she cried, moving smoothly and expertly, not 
swaying precariously back and forth on her hands and knees but instead 
snapping and tilting her hips up and down, providing a steady rocking motion 
of her pelvis which served very well to slide her vagina up and down on the 
moving cock of the happy boy. 

BANG! BANG! BANG! The orgasms she'd felt already that evening were only 
preludes to these she was experiencing under the steady, faithful pumpings 
of this fine fat prick. She was feeling absolutely marvelous in every part 
of her body, and she was aglow with the knowledge that she could go on and 
on, feeling this exquisite pleasure for hours and hours, getting each and 
every one of the boys' cocks into her before she was fully satisfied. 

"Oh, Miss Holm!" Charles cried, as his fingers tightened in her soft hips. 
"OH! OH! OH, MISS HOLM!!!" 

"Yes! Yes, I'm right here, dear! I'm right with 
you-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-OOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!" 

Their mutual orgasm was of such a cataclysmic force that several of the boys 
cheered, others applauded, and still more helped Charles, grinning like a 
Cheshire cat, down from the bed so they could take his place. Carolyn was 
still seeing stars from the big blast she'd received in her twat when, quite 
marvelously, another fully loaded and primed prick was shoved into it, 
permitting her orgasm to take up right where it had been left off. 

It didn't matter that this boy's prick wasn't as fat as Charles'. Her 
lusciously overflowing cunt was as primed and loaded as the cocks 
were--perhaps even more so--for all it took was the slightest touch to keep 
her bouncing back and forth in the heavens from one orgasmic skyrocket burst 
to another, ricocheting about like some fiery ball in a heavenly pin-ball 
machine of sex and love. Her delights were boundless, nothing could make her 
present existence any happier--until she felt, then saw a lovely hard cock 
touching her cheek. 

Two at once! What a sheer delight! She sucked it right in, lowering her 
lashes to her cheeks to shut out all the sensation she could that might be 
extraneous to the full flowing feelings of sexual joy that were hers, and 
she sucked with loving and gentle ardor until the meaty sweet cum was 
spurting and flowing over her cupped tongue and down her throat to further 
warm her belly and add to the glowing furnace of love that was blasting away 
in her twat. 

She barely had time to lick the last drop of cum from that prick until 
another was presented to her, this one entering her mouth at precisely the 
moment another was being replaced in her cunt. She was wild with excitement. 
Her senses were reeling with this flood of sex pouring over her and into 
her. But still, through it all, she retained her reasoning powers, and now 
she used them to control her sweating, orgasming body. She used her 
instincts too, judging just how close to orgasm each of the. cocks in her 
were, and adjusting the movements of her hips and the pressures of her mouth 
accordingly, and the feeling of triumph she knew when each of the two pricks 
ejaculated their heavy white cum into her at exactly the same moment rivaled 
the double orgasm she was feeling; her cunt and the animal and her brain 
were going off in unison, and her heart was joining them in the knowledge of 
a job well planned and well executed. It was a real pleasure, this triple 
orgasm, but it was a structured happening, and for far too long Carolyn's 
life had been structured, by stern parents, by rigidly patterned school 
curriculum, by demanding educational administrators. She'd had enough of 
that for now. This was an all out gang-bang, one with no holds barred, no 
plans, no goals but the utmost of pleasure for everyone involved. Carolyn 
shut off her think-box and let it happen, let it all hang out. 

"Man, look at her tits swing!" 

"Look at her ass move!" 

"Could I get in there and eat her box a little more?" 

Doug was too late in his request, for Rusty and Jim had dived in unison 
under the swaying body of their kneeling schoolteacher, each to take a 
nipple in his lips, much in the fashion of Romulus and Remus, to suck and 
nurse and squeeze with their little hands. Before her Carolyn was sucking 
another fine cock, under her she was having her tits sucked and fondled in a 
most delightful and loving way, and behind her she was getting still another 
fucking. 

She didn't know if this one was in her cunt or in her asshole, nor did she 
care. That whole delightful area of her body, her entire crotch and even her 
buttocks, had all been made as sensitive as her clitoris by the ambitious 
and amorous boys. Just the pair of hands on her hips were enough to keep her 
orgasming harder than ever before she had in her life, but in addition to 
those hands, she had a cock sliding in and out of her, warm loins bumping up 
against her ass cheeks, the two mouths on her tits, the cock in her mouth, 
plus Doug's mouth on her clit, for his determination matched his appetite 
when it came to eating pussy. 

She serviced them all. She took care of each and every one of them, not just 
once, but several times. Before it ended, she was able to recognize most of 
them from behind, by the size and vigor of their cocks, by the way they 
grasped her hips, by the gigglings and bragging they made as they fucked her 
in cunt, mouth or asshole, by the taste and the quantity of their 
ejaculations. She emptied out the sex glands of all of them, finishing up 
just as a lovely, deep langor crept in on her that made her feel deliciously 
sleepy, more relaxed than she'd ever thought possible. 

They tucked her into her bed. They formed an orderly line and kissed her a 
soft goodnight while she lay there with her eyes closed, her lips pursed, 
murmuring her farewells for the evening as she did her best to keep at least 
a part of her senses awake until they'd all paid their respectful homage and 
departed, leaving her to fall into a deep, deep, peaceful slumber. 

"Miss Holm! Carolyn, wake up! Are you all right! Great gadfrey, what in the 
world happened to you?" 

"Hmmmm?" 

"You don't have to tell me; they did it again, raped you unmercifully. Oh, 
the vipers, the filthy swine!" 

"Hmmmm? Whooozat?" 

"It's Mr. Sloane, darling, it's David!" he said, shaking her, sitting her 
up. Her head lolled back, the covers slipped down from her softly standing 
breasts, and she remained limp in his trembling hands. "Great heavens, 
they've drugged you! But, here, I've brought some medicinal brandy. That'll 
bring you round, dear, so you can tell me all about it for my report." 

By the time he filled the glass she was on her back again, snoring, those 
luscious orbs uncovered still. Again he sat her up, this time holding the 
glass to her faintly smiling lips, but the healing liquor could only be made 
to trickle over her plump pink lips to dribble down her chin and spill onto 
her breasts. 

"You poor kid, you're really out. Still breathing, but I'd better apply 
mouth-to-mouth resuscitation anyway. Hmmm. Shame to let that brandy go to 
waste," he said, and lying her back down again, he bent and licked it up, 
sucked it up, kissed it up from her breasts. 

She went on snoring. He shook his head, lowered the covers all the way, and 
made a close inspection of the body with his hands and eyes, using his lips 
now and then as a supplement. 

"Carolyn," he moaned, "you are absolutely drenched with semen! How many of 
those animals did it to you this time?" 

"Did what?" she asked, only after he'd repeated the question several times 
and shaken her hard. 

"At least your eyes are open. Was it pretty rough on you, darling? Down 
here?" he asked, as his fingers stole down to her loins and felt all around 
there. 

She feebly pushed his hand away and said, "Mr. Sloane, I don't know what 
you've come to my room for, but I know you shouldn't be doing that." 

He clasped his hands before his pleading face and said, "I've come here 
because you were being raped again!" 

"Me? Raped?" she said, sitting up and pulling the covers up to her neck. 
"Nonsense. You've been imagining things." 

"But I heard your screams, this place is a shambles, and you're covered from 
head to toe with semen. Good gracious, have they raped you into a state of 
amnesia?" 

"If I screamed," she said, "it was either because I had a nightmare or 
because you heard the scream of some animal in the forest. If this place 
isn't as tidy as it should be, may I remind you that it is my cabin, and 
that there is no clause in my contract pertaining to my housekeeping habits. 
And as for this drying fluid on my body, it is a night time beauty lotion I 
use for keeping my skin soft and smooth. And now if you have no more 
questions, you'll excuse me so I can get a bit of sleep. I have a great deal 
of material to cover in class tomorrow, and I want to be fully rested so I 
can do a good j. . . ." 

"Carolyn!" he said, and threw his arms about her. "You've taken temporary 
leave of your senses, but I'll see you through. Here, have a drink. Come, 
let me help you to the shower. Then we'll come back here and I'll put the 
nice lotion on your body and make it all-l-l-l-l well again. Okay?" 

"Sir, be good enough to leave. I don't want a drink, I don't need a shower, 
and I prefer the lotion I've already applied." 

"Damn you!" he said. "Look at this and tell me what it is you want and need 
and prefer!" 

With that he ripped open his pants and flopped out his penis, an organ of 
truly noble size, rising high from his tweeds, crested with a heavy red 
knob, pulsing and throbbing quite visibly. 

"There it is, baby," he said with pardonable pride, "and it's all yours. You 
raised it from the dead, made it stand up again when that damned Martha 
Wilkes had it scared so bad that it was shrunk down to nothing all the time. 
You raised it from the dead, you saved it's life, and it's all yours now, to 
have and to hold, to love and to cherish, now and forever-more." 

"What time is it, Mr. Sloane?" 

"Huh? About eleven o'clock." 

"My school day officially ends at three. It's in my contract. So if you'll 
excuse me I'll just go back to sleep and be ready to fulfill the terms of my 
contract again starting at eight o'clock in the morning." 

He sat there open-mouthed while she fluffed up her pillow, lay down her 
lovely head on her hands, and in a few minutes, began to snore in a soft, 
lady-like fashion. His shoulders sagged. He was crestfallen, but his penis 
was not. It took him five minutes of cursing and struggling before he could 
get it back inside his trousers and shorts, and Carolyn was still softly 
snoring when he went slinking out of her cabin, across the darkened camp 
ground, and into the little log house that was his. 

CHAPTER TEN 

Carolyn awoke on time and lay in her bed, stretching and yawning, hugging 
and fondling herself for a long time. It was going to be another beautiful 
day in the mountains. The pines had an especially fragrant scent, and the 
birds were singing songs she'd never heard before. Making a tent of the 
covers, she looked down at her body and smiled, for even it looked special 
that day, so special that she had to at last rise and put it to use, 
flitting about her little house, tidying up, humming as she went. 

She took her exercises at the window and spent a long time under the shower, 
emerging all pink and rosy and clean from the hot water and the scented 
soap. She was still humming as she brushed out her hair before the mirror, 
admiring the sheen in its long, silky waves. She applied a generous coat of 
rich pink lip gloss to her cushiony lips, and as an afterthought she painted 
a light coating of the same on her nipples, already up to a firm condition, 
as ready for the new day as Carolyn was herself. She extended and slightly 
darkened her long lashes with smoky gray make-up and accentuated the rich 
clear blue of her eyes with a soft, summery green that was tinged with pink. 
She worked on her eyebrows until she was contented with their girlish lilt, 
and with the slightly quizzical expression it gave to her stunningly young 
and lovely face. Not a hint of powder of foundation cream was needed to 
improve her perfect complexion. With her hair cascading down in soft fluffy 
curls to frame her sweetly smiling face, she presented the picture of 
innocence awakened and sweetness personified. 

Into her living room she went to select some apparel for another school day. 
It was really a shame the mischievous boys had taken a scissors to so many 
of her things, for she had had quite an attractive wardrobe, but there were 
still a few items left intact, certainly enough to allow her to be totally 
presentable in class that day. 

First she donned a pair of pink pumps with four inch heels. They bunched her 
calves so cunningly that she had to admire herself for a few moments, 
looking down past the sweet swell of her beautiful bottom, along the tapered 
line of her very nubile thigh, to the soft pillow of her calf muscle, just 
over an ankle so slim as to appear to be fragile. 

Before she went any further she returned to the bathroom and applied a 
liberal but ladylike amount of highly exotic French perfume behind her ears, 
on her throat, in her armpits, under her breasts in that warm snug crease 
formed by her mounds and her ribcage, and all around her crotch, before and 
behind. Smoothing it in there, she noticed the slightest trace of stubble 
from new sprouts of her silky blonde pubic hair, and she stopped to take the 
time to lather herself from navel to ankle and carefully whisk away every 
tiny sprouting hair, leaving her legs as smooth as her breasts, her pussy 
even smoother, and back to her dressing she went, clacking along on her 
spiked heels, breasts and buttocks swinging and swaying merrily. 

She found a skirt that was just fine, almost. It was bright red, made of 
some synthetic material that had managed to survive the boys' shrinking 
process for the most part, but still reduced in size so that it fit her very 
snugly indeed when she tried it on. It clung rather than squeezed, and while 
it showed her every curve, it was entirely comfortable against her bare 
skin. It clung so tightly that she knew very well that the smoothness of it 
would be ruined by an unsightly panty line, but that presented no problem. 
Its only fault was that it was far too long. Even the slight shrinking it 
had taken brought its hem to only six inches above Carolyn's dimpled knees, 
and so she took it off and patiently re-hemmed it, elevating it another four 
inches, and then it looked just right when she put it on and smoothed it 
down with her soft and lovely hands. 

She had several sweaters that would go well with the red micro-skirt, but it 
was such a fine day that she felt it would be a shame to cover up with bulky 
wool. Most of the cotton blouses that she usually wore to class in the 
summer had been ruined, but there was one nylon blouse that she thought 
might do, and so she put it on, tucked in its tails, and went to survey 
herself critically in the mirror. It was white, with long, billowy sleeves 
terminating in tight cuffs with three pearl buttons on each of them. It had 
a high, collared neck with lapels that pointed straight down in arrows that, 
if extended, would touch the tips of its wearer's breasts. It had a severe, 
tailored look to it that Carolyn softened by opening a few more of the pearl 
buttons that ran down the front of it, then a few more until it was open 
almost to the waistband of her skirt. 

She buttoned up one of them and nodded in approval, for she liked the 
schoolmarmish look of it, from the long sleeves to the patch pockets over 
each of her breasts. The blouse, she recalled, was one she'd never before 
worn in public. It had been a gift from that silly, romantically inclined 
lesbian she'd known at Miss Trowbridge's, and the Lesbian--whatever her name 
had been--had persuaded Carolyn to wear it only when the two of them were 
alone, playing childish games with each other. Her reasoning had been that 
it was very sheer, so sheer that it was quite transparent. It had been made 
for a woman who liked to show off her brassieres, something Carolyn had done 
many times while the leering Lesbian had laid on her bed, smoking and 
drinking and playing with herself. 

Now the patch pockets each had a bull's eye of bright pink clearly showing 
through them, these on each side of the deep curved crack that was in the 
middle of her chest, unveiled by even the transparent white nylon. She 
decided that her attire might be a little bold for teaching at many schools, 
but that she was on such good terms with her students that what she was 
wearing was perfectly suitable for a day in class. She brushed out her hair 
again, smiling at the way her breasts bobbed and jiggled, and headed for the 
mess hall with a healthy appetite. 

She was later than usual. The boys were already lined up at the steam table, 
jostling and joking and shoving, trays in hand, but a ragged cheer went up 
for Carolyn Holm as she entered and a place was quickly made for her at the 
head of the line. The shapely but overweight cook was there on the other 
side of the steam table, and Carolyn greeted her with a cheery, "Good 
morning." 

"You oughta be taken out and shot for wearing somethin' like that in front 
of these poor boys," said Martha Wilkes, and slung scrambled eggs on 
Carolyn's tray with such force that a fleck of yellow spattered on her 
immaculate white blouse. 

Carolyn looked at it and clucked in disappointment, and immediately young 
Rusty and Jim were there with clean handkerchiefs to dab and wipe at the 
blouse while Carolyn thrust out her chest to help them until not a trace of 
yellow could be seen. 

With the cook grumbling behind her, Carolyn was escorted to the head of the 
farthest table by half a dozen or more of her eager students, where her tray 
was piled high with eggs, bacon, and buttered toast. She ate moderately, 
chatting with her students and those of Mr. Sloane about mundane 
matters--the weather, the day's lesson plan, the lively activities of the 
evening before. Her escort swelled to number more than a dozen by the time 
she finished her breakfast and went strolling off to class. 

Carolyn's classroom was packed. The boys were sitting two to a desk, all 
freshly combed and scrubbed, all beaming at her expectantly as she sat at 
her desk with her chest out-thrust and her legs comfortably parted. She bade 
them a cheery good morning which was just as cheerily returned, opened her 
math book, and was just about to speak when the day's first interruption 
came: "Let's all cut class and fuck the teacher!" 

"I'd rather eat her!!!" 

She closed the book and regarded them with a baleful eye. She said, "That 
will be the last interruption I will tolerate in this classroom. There is a 
time for fucking and a time for learning, and the latter time is now upon 
us. And now if we may begin, I'd like some of you to work some problems on 
the board, to see what we've learned in the past few. . . ." 

"Pssst!" The door opened a crack and Mr. Sloane's eye peered through it. He 
beckoned urgently, and she excused herself and stepped down from the 
platform and went out into the hall, followed by several whistles, which she 
chose to ignore. 

He stood there in a slight crouch, hands clasped before him, and said, "I 
don't know if I'll be able to teach class today. I'm, er, a little 
indisposed. Do you think you could handle my students as well as yours, 
Carolyn?" 

She patted her hair while he breathed a heavy sigh, gaze dropping down to 
her bosom, Adam's apple working visibly, and she said, "I don't see a reason 
in the world why I can't take care of every one of them, Mr. Sloane. I hope 
it's nothing serious bothering you." 

"It's pretty serious, but. . . It's a hard problem, but perhaps between the 
two of us we can find a soft solution for it at luncheon break. I have some 
lobsters and a bottle of wine in my cabin." 

"Tsk. I've already promised the boys I'd take them on a little nature study 
walk during lunch." 

"How about dinner? Please, Carolyn. Please, Miss Holm." 

"I'll look forward to it," she said, and slipped the tip of her tongue 
between his lips as she kissed him in parting. 

He groaned and walked off holding his groin, and Carolyn returned to her 
desk, with every one of the boys lowering his head to his desk as she sat 
down and daintily parted her lovely, shaven bare legs. 

She opened her book again, and again she was just about to speak when a 
voice cried out, "Let me kiss your box!" 

Her right breast quivered angrily as her arm shot out and her finger pointed 
to her class. "I warned you!" she said. "Douglas, get up here and take your 
punishment." 

He sauntered up the aisle grinning at his contemporaries, unbuckling his 
jeans, until Carolyn said. "There'll be no need for you to take down your 
trousers, Doug. I won't be using the paddle on any of you any more. Your 
punishment for that outburst will be to sit under my desk from now until 
noon, or until someone else offends badly enough to take your place." 

They all started screaming at once. Pandemonium broke loose, and the air was 
filled with obscene and amorous suggestions, all of which Carolyn chose to 
ignore, while the grinning Doug dove down underneath her desk. He was met 
there with a finger pointing between his eyes, separating him from the 
luscious little shaven box that was the object of all his desires. 

Carolyn said, "Turn around and face the class during your punishment period, 
Douglas." 

Immediately the classroom became quiet, save for a few surreptitious giggles 
when the dejected expression on Doug's face could be seen. He sat 
cross-legged, miserable, while the others glared at him and silently 
motioned for him to move his head out of the way, and Miss Holm began to 
teach. 

"I'd like a volunteer to go to the board and multiply eight thousand four 
hundred sixty seven by seven-eights. No one can do it? I see no hands 
raised, class. Come, come, don't you want to earn a nice grade, boys?" she 
asked, slipping her hand within her blouse and softly, slowly adjusting her 
left breast. 

By the time she'd removed her hand every boy in the room had his hand up. 
She selected Rusty, and the boy's eagerness was apparent by the nice bulge 
in his pants as he went to the board, labored hard with the chalk, then 
smiled at her in question. 

"That is correct," she said beckoning him closer, close enough so that she 
could slip his hand within her blouse and thus keep it occupied while she 
unzipped his trousers, took out his cunning little erection, and used her 
hands and her lips on it so adroitly that he was weaving his way back down 
the aisle in less than two minutes. 

She licked her lips and asked for another volunteer for a difficult division 
problem, and again she had a whole array of hands from which to choose. 

Even Doug's hand was waving in front of her desk, but she said, "Charles, 
your turn at the board." 

He strutted up there, hitched up his trousers, and attacked the problem with 
determined concentration. She watched, her lovely bosom rising and falling 
with her sighs, her gaze directed at his loins, and when he was finished she 
checked her answer book and said, "That's correct! Goodie goodie for you, 
Charles! Come closer, dear, for your reward." 

He said, "Should we do it on the floor or on the desk, Miss Holm?" 

Her blue eyes blinked wide. "The floor is perfectly adequate for the kind of 
kisses you're going to get, dear." 

He shifted his feet uncomfortably and said, "I just don't go for bj.s, Miss 
Holm. Can't we screw? Dog style?" 

"I'm sorry," she said, her countenance growing serene and her back 
straightening. "It would be too distracting for the rest of the class and it 
would take up too much time. But here," she said, and scribbled a few words 
on a piece of scratch paper. "Take this note, and when you get two more like 
it, they'll earn you a half hour in my cabin . . . alone with me." 

"Can I do another problem now?" 

"Sorry, we've all got to learn something, Charles, I've got to spread it 
around." 

So it went for the morning, and by a quarter hour before lunch, Carolyn had 
passed out seven chits, given thirteen blow jobs, and had turned eight of 
her students back to their seats with her high hopes they'd do better at 
their attempt to demonstrate what they'd learned. She looked at the clock 
and said, "We have time for one more question before the bell rings. The 
subject is European history and the question is this: Napoleon Bonaparte was 
the leader of what European country. Bob, do you know the answer?" 

The big, powerful boy lumbered to his feet, grinning bashfully, and said, 
"France." 

She said, "Sorry, Bob. Bonaparte was the emperor of England." 

He frowned and looked around, the other students murmured their confusion, 
and Carolyn quickly said, "Oh, how stupid of me. Of course your answer was 
correct, Bob, and it was I who was mistaken. Tsk. I certainly deserve a 
punishment for that. Come to the head of the class, please." 

He did as he was told, scratching his head, then frowning when she rose and 
handed him the paddle. "Three good swift ones," she said, "to teach me not 
to make mistakes, and then we'll break for lunch." 

She turned her back to him, planted her high heels solidly a foot apart, and 
bunched up her skirt until it was gathered around her slender waist. Her 
large, impertinently rounded backside jiggled plumply as she bent at the 
waist, smiling winningly at her students. Grasping her slender ankles, her 
lovely blonde hair spilling down round her slightly flushed face, she said, 
"Begin, Bob. Nice swift ones!" 

They murmured in a disquieting fashion, but Bob swung the paddle, slap, 
slap, slap. Carolyn remained where she was, face reddening slightly more, 
and sharply said, "Would you like to spend the afternoon where Doug is 
sitting. 

W-W-W-WHACK!!! POW!! KER-SPLAT!! Carolyn's knees buckled and her heels 
clicked on the hardwood as she regained her balance, rubbing her glowing 
bottom with both hands and whistling soft and low. "Ouch!" she said, as she 
lowered her skirt, "Bob, you gave me such good ones that I'll not be able to 
wear this for at least an hour. Off it comes. Well, may as well take off my 
top too, and get a little sun. Anyone care to join me for a walk in the 
woods?" she asked, and high-heeled it toward the door, with a score of 
hastily stripping boys behind her, following that big red beacon of her 
behind. 

CHAPTER ELEVEN 

David Sloane's eyes were sunken and haggard, but he opened them wide when he 
saw the vision of loveliness who'd knocked at his cabin door. Carolyn stood 
smiling languidly at him, hair piled high on her head in a torrent of golden 
curls, the better to show off her creamy white shoulders and not distract a 
bit from her very artfully made-up face. She was wearing a long evening gown 
of deep green crushed velvet. It had a deeply plunging neckline which left 
no room at all for a brassiere to contain her perfectly upstanding, pointed 
breasts, and its back plunged down so low that an inch or two of the 
cleavage of her derriere was exposed. The gown was supported by a band of 
green velvet that went round the back of her neck, and rhinestone earrings 
dazzled from her little pink ears. The gown fit smoothly about her long, 
slender, narrow waist, swelled nicely with the sweeping contours of her 
hips, and was split up the middle panel to put on display a shapely leg all 
agleam in midnight green nylon hose, and the spike heeled green pumps that 
lifted her to the same height or an inch or two higher than her principal. 

"Come in, Carolyn! Oh, do come in!" he said, sweeping wide the door, 
gesturing to her, then laying a hand on her arm. 

"Sorry I'm late. I was umpiring a baseball game for the boys. My class beat 
yours, eleven to eight, and we're going to celebrate the victory with a 
little picnic in the woods on Saturday." 

"My god, you're stunning, absolutely stunning," he said, staggering 
backward, awed, and making no attempt to conceal the outlandishly big bulge 
in his trousers. "I haven't seen anything like that in my life, not even on 
television !" 

"A friend bought it for me," she said, spinning gracefully about to show him 
its lines, "but it's the first time I've worn it out to dinner." 

"God! Stunning! I'm amazed every baboon in camp isn't on your heels." 

"Ah, they're all hard at it in their barracks." 

"I can imagine what it is they're at," he muttered, scratching irritably at 
his bulging trousers. 

"Something smells good," she said. "Is dinner ready? I'm famished, and I've 
got some special study sessions scheduled with some of the boys this 
evening." 

"I thought we'd have a few drinks first," he said, moving closer, cupping 
her breast and giving it a fond squeeze. 

"I've quit drinking. Not even medicinal brandy," she said with a little 
laugh, as she gracefully spun away from him, in time to the music playing on 
his quadraphonic sound system. "I fear it's bad for one's stamina." 

"But good for the old inhibitions," he said, waggling his eyebrows and 
bending in a courtly fashion to place a warm kiss at the base of her spine. 

"What are those?" she asked, laughing gaily, and giving his trouser bulge a 
squeeze that made him roll his eyes back and gasp. 

He threw his arms about her and said, "Carolyn, be mine! Woman, I've got to 
have you!" 

"David!" she said, and pushed him away. "I didn't come here to wrestle, I 
came here to help you with your . . . indisposition, if I can." 

"Oh, I'm sure you can," he said, rubbing it against her leg, panting a bit. 

"We'll talk about it over dinner." 

"Woman, I'm ready to m-m-m-marry you! I want you for my wife. Carolyn, I'll 
take you out of here. I have connections with the school board. I can see to 
it that we get good jobs in the city, at rich schools with high pay! All you 
have to do is say yes. Please!" 

She placed a finger on the tip of his nose and said, "I say no. David, we 
hardly know each other. And besides, I have work to do here." 

"I can make you happy," he said, and grabbed her hand and placed it firmly 
on his cock. "Hell, I have made you happy." 

"And now," she said, squeezing softly, "you want me to make you happy. I 
will, perhaps, someday, but not tonight. Tonight I'm simply not in the mood. 
Can we eat dinner now?" 

"No!" he said, stamping his foot, trying to get her hand back on his cock, 
and failing that, grabbing her strongly with a cupped hand between her legs. 

"David, you're hurting me." 

"I'll make it well later, after we've talked." 

"About your indisposition?" 

"No, about our marriage! About you and me f-f-f-fucking, damnit." He let her 
go and fell to his knees. "Carolyn, don't you understand? I wasn't a whole 
man before you came here. I was ... I was totally impotent. Oh, I was as 
normal as the next guy when I took this job, thinking it would do me good to 
sign up for a year of teaching under cultivated boys in the mountains, 
living a spartan life, maybe slipping into town for a quick lay now and 
then. But I didn't reckon with Martha Wilkes." 

"Has she got something to do with your indisposition?" 

"No! You do! But she . . . Oh, it's so hard to explain, so hard to talk 
about." 

"Come sit on the couch with me, have a drink, relax, and then we'll talk 
about it. I'm a good listener." 

He made himself a giant Manhattan, but though he took his time about 
measuring the ingredients, the bulge in his trousers didn't diminish by so 
much as a millimeter. He sat down beside her, gulped half of it down, placed 
his hand on her thigh, and said, "I was a normal school principal when I 
came here, a bachelor, getting my share of nookie from my teachers, from a 
student's mother now and then, from some floozie in a bar here and there, 
getting my share of good and bad, but having to work for it every time. As 
it should be," he said, and she shrugged. 

"Then I came to The Pines, Martha Wilkes laid eyes on me, and life became 
hell. Call it love, call it lust, call it whatever you will, but she was 
after me the moment she saw me. Baking me pies, broiling me steaks, sending 
me little notes, offering to do my sewing and mending. Carolyn, she even 
sent me a bouquet of flowers one time!" 

"So? Most men like flowers." 

"A dozen long-stemmed American Beauty roses, with a note that said, Roses 
are red, violets are blue, let's you and me screw? Hell, it doesn't even 
have any meter!" 

"Yes, but it rhymes." 

"The point is she was pursuing me, and I'm not used to being pursued." 

"David, she's not a bad-looking woman. Quite attractive in fact." 

"I know that, and if she had only left me alone when I first came here, I'd 
probably have been banging her till you came here. Hell, I might even have 
married her. As it was, I found it a little exciting to be pursued by an 
aggressive woman at first, at first I even let her catch me a few times, but 
each time we were halfway into bed, my . . . my. . . ." 

"Your cock got soft?" 

"Exactly! And now ..." He shrugged and his face took on a most pathetic 
expression. ". . . now I can't get it up at all." 

"What's this?" she asked with a squeeze of his bulge. "A kosher dill?" 

He held her hand there and said, "No, that's all me, darling! It was soft 
before you got here, soft for a time after your arrival, but it got as hard 
and big as this that first time I . . ." He gave her a bashful grin. "You 
know." 

"David," Carolyn said, "you're going to have to get over this. I don't love 
you--and I do have the boys, you know." 

"I don't want to hear about that!" he interrupted, and jumped to his feet. 
He began to rip off his clothes, saying loudly, "You can do anything you 
want to with them or anybody until I win your complete love, and I guarantee 
I'll do it with this!" he said, and shucked off the last of his clothing to 
put on display a cock of truly manly proportions, at least ten inches of 
heavy, hard, gnarled meat that sprouted forth from a thick tangle of hair, 
adorned below with a pair of balls that would do justice to a prize ram. He 
stroked it fondly, a foot from her blinking eyes, and said, "I call it my 
punishment bar, and with this, my dear, I'll punish you into loving me in no 
t...." 

A loud knock sounded at the door, immediately followed by the loudly 
shouting voice of Martha Wilkes. "Let me in there, David Sloane! I know 
you've got that whore from hell in there, and I'm here to beat her brains 
out with this paddle! Let me in!!!" 

"She means it! She can do it!" he said. "What'll we do?" 

Carolyn looked quickly around. "You delay her, I'll slip out the back door. 
She'll cool off by morning." 

"Me? How can I delay her?" 

"With your punishment bar, darling," she said, and gave it a warm kiss, 
sucked it in her mouth for a moment, nestled it in the velvety hollow of her 
throat, and drew its heavy length down until it was snuggled Intimately 
between her lush young breasts. He was grinning and sighing when she glided 
out through the kitchen door, left it open a crack, and stood quietly 
watching. 

Still smiling and sighing, David opened the front door and Martha started to 
barge in, paddle at the ready, bosomy body clad in her sweat-stained kitchen 
uniform. "Where is she? I'll k . . . David!" she said, and dropped the 
paddle to grab his standing cock, throw her arm about his neck, and draw him 
down into a lusty, full-blown kiss. Even as Carolyn watched, David's cock 
sagged, wilted, and went limp in Martha's smoothly working hand. 

The camp cook backed out of the kiss, shoulders sagging, and looked down at 
the useless thing in her hand. "I knew it was too good to last. What if I 
tried to blow it up?" 

"Martha, no. It just won't work. We've been through all this before." 

She smiled bravely and said, "Well, you can't blame a gal for tryin', 
'specially when she's got her heart's desire bare-assed. Do you always open 
the door that way?" 

"I, er, I was distracted, doing some deep thinking." 

"You had that fucking no-good Holm woman in here, that's what you had. Where 
is she?" she asked, and stooped to pick up the paddle. 

He somehow stopped her and half wrestled her over to the couch, saying, 
"Easy, Martha. Let's be cool. Sit down and tell me your grievance, and I'll 
see if we can work something out, whatever it is that's wrong." 

She sat down heavily, suddenly looking pouting sad, and said, "The whole 
camp's going to hell in a hand basket ever since she's got here. All the 
boys slipped out of the barracks last night. Not a one of 'em came to visit 
me, and when I went lookin' for 'em, their little bunks was empty. I figured 
they were playin' another little prank on that blonde hussy, some other 
thing that'd make her see she couldn't make it here and pack it up and head 
on down the road, so I just went to bed and forgot about it, but this 
morning she comes troopin' in to the mess hall dressed like a Memphis whore, 
disruptin' my good breakfast and walkin' out with ever' damned one of my 
boys, leavin' me to do the dishes all by myself!" 

"We'll get you an automatic dishwasher. We have the funds for it." 

"I want my helpers, not some damned machine. David, I want you!" 

He untwined her arms from about his neck and said, "Go on." 

"Well, lunch was next, and none of the boys showed up for that. They was all 
out in the woods, fuckin' blue blazes out o' that whore!" 

"You don't know that for a fact, Martha." 

"I do so! Doug told me." 

"Hearsay. What other grievances do you have?" 

"I had to call 'em ten times for dinner. They was out playin' baseball, and 
there she was, right behind home plate callin' balls and strikes and passin' 
out kisses for home runs, and not a stitch on her!" 

"Athletics are as important as academic studies, Martha." 

The bulky woman began to weep, and though he tried to comfort her, her wails 
increased. "And now," she blubbered, "now when the boys and me should be 
workin' in the kitchen, I'm all alone in there, all alone!" 

"Really? And where are the boys?" 

"In their barracks," she wailed, "Doin' homework! Oh, boo-hoo-hoo. 
Ohh-h-h-boo-hoo-hoo." 

He was comforting her, patting her, telling her the importance of 
independent study, when the kitchen door opened and there was Carolyn. She 
was smiling in a sultry fashion as Martha looked up, her blubbering slowing 
as Carolyn leaned against the door jam with one arm and with her other hand 
reached behind her neck to pluck at the snaps that fastened the gown she had 
on. Martha's sobs stopped entirely as the green velvet went rustling down to 
make a puddle round Carolyn's heels, revealing her luscious breasts all 
naked and thrusting, capped with pink tips that shone and pursed as 
beautifully as did her lips. 

A low growl sounded in Martha's throat as Carolyn reached back again, loosed 
a pin, and shook out her long blonde hair in a waterfall of gleaming curls 
that surrounded her invitingly smiling face. 

"I'll kill her," said Martha, and went for the paddle. She raised it high 
over her head, edge pointing downward, and was on the verge of bringing it 
smashing down on Carolyn's skull when the stately, voluptuous blonde pointed 
a long finger at the couch. 

"Look," she said, and Martha's head turned, her eyes widened, for there was 
David Sloane, his hand circling his stiff-standing cock, gazing at Carolyn 
with a rapt expression on his face. 

"Oh baby, oh boy!" said Martha, and the paddle went clattering to the floor. 

"Shh," Carolyn suggested, "Just take off your clothes and take advantage of 
the situation while you can, dear." 

Martha tore her uniform in removing it and she muttered curses while 
fumbling with the hooks of her bra. Carolyn finally had to help her with 
this, smiling at the man on the couch with both his hands gripping his 
turgid cock, while Martha stripped off her panties with no assistance. 

Martha really did have a lovely body, Carolyn decided, as the camp cook 
tiptoed toward the transfixed man on the couch. It was a big body, olive 
skinned, and while all of its components were of considerable size, the sum 
of the parts made up for a whole that was truly a magnificent specimen of 
womanhood. Carolyn altered her opinion about Martha's being overweight. From 
the way she moved, the bulk consisted of soft muscles, with not a bit of 
fat. 

Carolyn approached the couch just behind Martha, remaining in clear view of 
David at all times. "Just lie down quietly, Martha," she said, "with your 
lovely warm legs across David's lap." 

The cook did as she was told, lovelight gleaming in the eyes that never left 
David's standing cock. Lustlight was gleaming in David's eyes as he gazed up 
at Carolyn, moving sinuously to the music, fondling her naked breasts and 
smiling down on him. 

"Do me a favor, David?" 

"Anything. Anything, Carolyn." 

"Turn around and roll over and lie down. And keep watching me, darling, keep 
your warm, beautiful eyes on my hot, beautiful body." 

"Oh, that'll be easy," he said, and Martha used her hands lightly but 
eagerly to position him on top of the soft cushion of her body. 

"Raise your hips a bit, David," said Carolyn, and as he did, she murmured to 
Martha, "Are you wet? Are you ready?" 

"I'm sopped!" she said, and giggled, and the spell was broken with David, he 
turned and looked at the woman under him and the expression on his face 
changed from one of radiant longing to one of crestfallen disappointment. 

He began to move away from her, but she moved faster, grasping his cock 
before it could wilt, pulling it, then shouting triumphantly, "I got it in! 
It ain't all the way hard, but it's in!" 

"Let's see if we can stiffen it up," said Carolyn. "David. Oh, David. See 
what I've got?" 

She hooked her thumbs in the elastic waistband of her black satin bikini 
panties, and all it took was a wiggle of her hips to bring that smile back 
to his face. As she worked them down, he began to move, urged on by the 
movement of the hips under him and the hands that clutched at his buttocks. 
By the time the lovely clefted Y of Carolyn's loins could be seen, David was 
pumping hard and Martha's breathless smile was telling the world that she 
was at last getting what she'd wanted for so very long. 

Carolyn stood there, swaying to the music, rolling her panties down her 
thighs, below her knees, her calves, finally stepping out of them, and still 
David pumped steadily, grinning broadly, sweating but never slowing. She 
danced for him and fondled her breasts, spread her legs and slipped a finger 
in her slit to put on a splendid show of the lusting female busy at 
masturbation, and still he pumped on, on and on, much to Martha's pure 
delight, but quite frustrating to Carolyn. She showed him her fanny, and the 
little mouth there that he'd so admired, and she was sweating a bit herself 
by then, but still he pumped, slower now, but still making Martha croon with 
delight. Slower and slower he went, visibly tiring, until at last he hung 
his head in weariness and spoke to Martha. 

"It's no use. Can't cum, can't do it." 

"Poor baby," she said, and tears spurted. 

"Carolyn, we've gotta help him. Hell, you screw him. I can't stand to see 
him so deprived." 

Carolyn firmly shook her head. "I'm committed elsewhere. David, listen to 
me. You can cum, I know you can now that you've overcome your inability to 
get a stiffie." 

"Fraid not," he said, shaking his head grimly, "unless it's with you, dear." 

"Have you tried masturbation?" 

"What? What do you mean?" 

"You know, jerking off, jacking off, beating off, whatever you call it, 
masturbation." He blushed and said, "Oh, I'd never do that" Both women shook 
their heads and exchanged a sympathetic look. Carolyn looked around the 
room, close to despair, but then her eyes brightened and she began to move 
again, more sinuously than ever, doing a solitary dance in her high heels 
and nothing else that was so sensuous, so moving, that even Martha couldn't 
take her eyes off the statuesque blonde with the very mobile body and 
strikingly beautiful face. 

David began to move again, and Martha smiled and hugged him, but still 
neither of them missed a movement of Carolyn's dance. They saw her and they 
didn't see her. They saw her form, but they didn't see what she was doing, 
not even when she straightened up from a crouch with the paddle in her hands 
and danced closer still to the couch. 

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! 

The paddle's sound was awfully loud in the cabin, and it made David Sloane 
move his hips awfully hard under its rain of heavy blows. 

SPLAT! WHACK! SWAT! 

He was plunging ahead like a fury, trying to back off, only to meet another 
swinging slap from the paddle in Carolyn's hands. 

SWAT! POW! SMACK! 

Martha was screaming and David was shouting, and both were plunging and 
bucking like things gone mad on the rocking, swaying couch, and still 
Carolyn swung the paddle, looking for that final blow that would make 
everything all right, and when it came, she dropped the paddle and jumped 
for joy, reveling in the jubilant orgasmic cries emanating from the couch. 

"THIS IS IT! THE BIG ONE!" Martha shrieked. 

"CUMMING!" David cried exultantly. "CUMMING, AND I LOVE IT!" 

"WHOOPEE! YIPPEE! OH! OH! OH!" 

"YOW! URRRRRRGGGH! LOVE IT, JUST LOVE IT!!!" 

"LOVE YOU, DAVID SLOANE! I . . . LOVE . . . YOOOUUUU!" 

"YES, MARTHA, YES!!! AND I . . . URRRGGGH . . . LOVE . . . NNNNGGGG . . . 
YOU!!!" 

"I'll leave your children alone," Carolyn softly said, as she demurely eased 
herself out of the cabin, "for I have children of my own to tend to, with 
little problems of their own, problems that only I can properly see to." 


End
