Chapter 7
At ten o'clock that night Karen stood in front of Miss Weaver's private room and took a deep breath to steady herself. A day and night long, after leaving Miss Weaver's office she had thought about this coming confrontation and how she would hopefully handle it. She was trying to maintain a confident state of mind as to the outcome, She of course had told Mary and Betty about what had happened in Miss Weaver's office and how she had to appear at her room at ten O'clock. Upon hearing the news of their probably, impending expulsion from the school both Mary and Betty cried. They too felt the humiliation and shame of having been caught engaging in their little orgy.
Mary said she would never be able to forget the feeling of mixed fear and degradation as she removed the brush handle from her crack and handed it to Miss Weaver. If her parents found out about it she was sure they would disown her forever.
And Betty was upset also. Not just by being caught with her two roommates, but also by the fact that Miss Weaver had mentioned to Karen that she knew the pills had been hers. Her parents were as strict as Karen's and when it came to any kind of drugs, they were violently opposed to any of their children using them.
Before Karen left their room to make her way to Miss Weaver's room, both of them had given her a big hug and cried. And when Mary cried, she also sobbed out, "if only you hadn't shoved that brush into my pussy Karen. It was all your fault. I've never had sex with a girl before you made me."
Mary blurted this out as an emotional release more than a serious accusation against
Karen, for she didn't really blame Karen, but she was afraid. It was just easier for her to bear if she could blame it on someone else. And after all, it had been Karen who had initiated the orgy. Until last night they had mutually masturbated, but they hadn't touched each other. If Miss Weaver had walked in while they were masturbating themselves, they could have noticed her in time and appeared as though they were just sitting around talking and listening to records. But there was no way of explain their way out of the group sex scene which Miss Weaver encountered when she walked into the room. And it had been Karen's brush, tongue and hands that had caused her to orgasms and make noise moaning. So it was Karen's fault they were caught, but she I found that she couldn't hate her for it, no matter how hard she tried.
But as Karen had made her way down the hallway and downstairs to the dorm supervisor's room, she couldn't help repeated Mary's words in her head.
"It was your idea to shove that brush in my cunt. I couldn't help myself from moaning. That brush handle was so thick! And the bristles were scratching against my clitoris! It's still sore today!"
Karen had stood silent and feeling defenseless as Mary accused her of being the reason they were all now going to be expelled, and she felt terrible.
The image of Mary standing there with big tears rolling down her cheeks saying, "I've never had a girl eat my pussy or do anything like that to me before. Me and Betty have always had sex with boys. You're the one who told us about Linda. You're the one who's done queer stuff before!"
As she came closer and closer to Miss Weaver's door Karen found herself wondering if it were true, if it had all been her fault. And she also found herself wondering if she were a lesbian. It was true that the best sex, just about the only sex she'd ever had was with girls.
But as she reached Miss Weaver's door her thoughts vanished with the trembling she now felt in her stomach and legs. This was surely going to be her only chance to adequately explain what had happened and somehow save Betty and Mary. And herself if it was possible.
She timidly knocked on the door and stood waiting for it to open. What was only seconds seemed like hours to her as she stood frozen, waiting for the door to open. But it did not. Was it possible that Miss Weaver wasn't here? Had she forgotten about telling her to appear here at ten o'clock? For a brief second Karen's heart skipped a beat and a flash of hope soared through her. Was it possible Miss Weaver had forgotten about the whole affair? Or decided that she would give them a second chance and not tell the Headmistress? If only that could be true!
As much as she wanted to, Karen dared not leave yet. She forced herself to knock on the door again, only this time a little louder. She stood and waited again, the time dragging by more slowly than she had ever experienced it before. Her pulse was racing as she began to feel a great relief and beginning to let herself believe that Miss Weaver was not in her room as she said she would be.
Karen decided she would knock one more time and then leave, and as she raised her nand to do so, the door opened and Karen's heart and hopes sunk like an anchor in the ocean.
"Well, at least you're punctual," Miss Weaver said to the dejected Karen, "it's a good way to start off this little meeting." And opening the door for Karen to enter, she did so without any further word from Miss Weaver.
After closing and locking the door Miss Weaver turned to Karen and said, "I've been giving this situation serious consideration all day. Headmistress Mollingford arrived at her office only moments after I dismissed you, and I was about to inform her of the depraved little scene you three were involved in last night, but I didn't. As I told you earlier, I don't wish to see any girl expelled from this school unless she totally deserves it."
"Yes Ma'am," Karen responded courteously, remembering Mary and Betty standing in their room crying.
Miss Weaver told Karen to sit on the couch which was in a little living room separate from the bedroom. Miss Weaver also had a little kitchen and bathroom which none of the students' rooms had. Miss Weaver sat on the couch next to her but a few feet away.
Karen's eyes quickly swept the room as she tried to adjust herself to .being there. Although not very big, it was comfortable and well furnished. Very nice and neat and clean. It was obvious that an orderly person lived there.
But it was Miss Weaver that Karen noticed the most. There was something different about her that caught her attention. She didn't know what it was at first, but it suddenly dawned on her that it was as simple as her appearance.
During the day Miss Weaver was always a stern looking, very business-like woman. Her hair was alway pulled back and tied in a tight bun at the back of her head. It was that way now, but Miss Weaver was not wearing her usual working uniform. She was dressed in a casual, calf length skirt and short sleeve white blouse that was clinging more tightly and showing more of her chest that Karen had ever noticed. Miss Weaver, Karen couldn't help thinking had pretty big tits, and the thin material of the blouse was actually showing the indentations from the points of her nipples. But perhaps the biggest change in Miss Weaver's person was her face. It looked more relaxed and attractive in the atmosphere and privacy of her own room. And Karen also noticed, perhaps for the first time, she thought, that Miss Weaver was wearing a small amount of make-up. In the quickness of the time that she had to appraise Miss Weaver she couldn't recollect if she had ever seen make-up on Miss Weaver before.
But that question soon disappeared from her mind with the words spoken by Miss Weaver. "It is my responsibility to decide what is to be done with you and your slutty roommates."
Again, that word "slut" took her by surprise and reminded her of what trouble she was in. Miss Weaver noticed her reaction to the word and questioned her about it.
"You are a slut, you know, she said matter-of-factly to Karen, "your behavior proves that. As well as your roommates. If you think differently I would like to hear why right now."
Karen was confused and intimidated by Miss Weaver's direct confrontation and her name calling and she instinctively decided it would be better for her if she were not to contradict Miss Weaver.
When Karen remained silent Miss Weaver continued with her line of questioning. "Good," she said, "I'm glad you agree with me. It will help us in our dealings with this problem. Because I treat the girls in this dormitory by the way they act. You act like a slut so I will treat you like one. And the first order of business is for you to apologize to me for acting like the tramp you are."
"Karen was not about to challenge Miss Weaver's dictations so she immediately said, "I'm sorry Miss Weaver for acting like I did." The words did not come out easily, for her lips were trembling slightly, but she said them and at least felt better that it was over with. But she was right away thrown back into a state of agitation when Miss Weaver shook her head with a look of displeasure.
"That is not good enough, slut," she said. "Now stand up and give me a full apology for what you did last night, and you'll refer to yourself as what you are. A vulgar little slut."
Karen suddenly knew that she would have to say the most humiliating things about herself, standing alone and helpless in front of Miss Weaver. She was afraid, but she knew she must do this. She knew she must show remorse and repent for what had happened if she were to have any chance of getting Mary and Betty gut of trouble.
Rising slowly, Karen stood and faced Miss Weaver. Wetting her lips and trying to control the tight, squeezing feeling in her throat she began her apology.
"I apologize, Miss Weaver for behaving like a slut."
Miss Weaver nodded her head in the beginning of approval and it helped to spur Karen on. She continued.
"I'm sorry for what happened last night in our room...."
By the change of expression on Miss Weaver's face Karen knew she would have to rephrase her statement, and she knew she would have to make it intimate, and graphically humiliating.
"I'm sorry for fucking Mary with the brush handle, making her cum. She didn't ask me to do it," she quickly added, remembering Mary's words to her before she left the room, "she's never had sex with a girl before. It was my fault. I was the one who sucked her pussy and fucked her." Karen stopped momentarily to appraise Miss Weaver, to see if she was in accordance with her orders. She felt that she was.
"And I'm sorry for Betty fingerfucking my ass-hole and licking me. She wasn't at fault either. Betty's never done anything like that before. Even though we all acted like the sluts we are, it was all my fault. I'm the biggest slut of all."
Miss Weaver seemed pleased as she sat and listened to Karen's apology, soaking in the sight of the dejected, humiliated young woman standing before her. She noticed how Karen was trembling, and how her chest was heaving in order to maintain control over herself and keep from breaking into tears.
"And are you sorry for taking drugs too?" she challenged Karen, adding a heavier load of guilt upon the helpless girl.
"Oh, yes, yes I am Miss Weaver. I'll never do it again."
"Oh yes you will" Miss Weaver said rising from the couch. "You're going to take two of those pills again right now. You're going to be in the same perverted state of mind that you were last night when you committed your disgusting display of animalism. You are going to be disciplined for your actions and I want you in the same condition as you were so that you'll relate more to why you're being punished."
Miss Weaver was now handing Karen two of the downers and a glass of water.
"Take these you little whore," she commanded. "A slutty little drug addict needs her pills."
Karen dared not contest her will and she quickly popped the pills into her mouth, took a drink of water, threw her head back and swallowed the pills.
"Girls who take drugs disgust me," Miss Weaver said to her as she took away the glass. She walked into her kitchen area and put the glass in the sink. "Come in here and wash this glass out," she ordered Karen, "I'm not going to be inconvenienced by it."
Karen was grateful for being able to move, for she felt that if she had to stand in that position any longer her knees would give out and she would crumple to the floor in a tearful heap.
Standing next to Miss Weaver Karen ran the tap and picked up the glass which was the only article in the sink. She grabbed the small sponge that was lying next to the sink in its own little tray and began to rut the glass with it.
"Put soap on the sponge first," Miss Weaver said, with an annoyed tone. "Were you brought up in a barn? Don't you have ANY manners?" And then, as if answering herself, she said out loud, "Of course you don't. Sluts don't have manners. Miss Weaver then handed
Karen the small plastic bottle of liquid dish detergent and watched as the helpless girl squeezed some onto the sponge and started her task over. This time there was a large amount of soap suds to cover the glass with inside and out, and after thoroughly washing and rinsing the glass Karen put it in the plastic dish drainer next to the sink where there were other plates and glasses drying from Miss Weaver's dinner. Karen then turned off the water and put the soapy sponge back in its resting place.
"We're not done with that sponge yet," said Miss Weaver with enough of an ominous tone in her voice that Karen knew something bad was about to happen. And as she stood frozen, afraid to speak or move, Miss Weaver picked up the sponge and lightly squeezed it, sending out a puff of suds and bubbles.
And as a means of explanation for what she was about to do she said to Karen" you have a filthy mouth. A disgusting, filthy mouth that takes drugs and sucks on other girl's cunts. And I'm going to begin to teach you not to have a filthy mouth anymore. I'm going to wash it out until it's clean again."
And as Karen stood there defenseless against this woman she wanted to cry out or run from the room, but she knew she couldn't. She knew she had to accept Miss Weaver's punishment. If she were going to get out of this mess, and get Betty and Mary out of trouble, she was going to have to comply with any measures Miss Weaver saw fit to use to punish her. She knew that Miss Weaver was head of the disciplinary board and she would punish her in any event. In order to keep herself from losing her control and to bare-up under what Miss Weaver was about to do to her, she told herself that it was better to be punished here in private than to have to go in front of the whole board and have made public what had happened. For she told herself, that as of this moment, Miss Weaver was still the only person who knew what had taken place in their room last night.
Still standing in her place at the sink, Karen kept her hands at her side as Miss Weaver grabbed her by the back of her hair, pulled her head slightly backwards and tilted towards her and said, "Now open your slutty little mouth."
Closing her eyes in complete abdication of her own will, Karen obeyed Miss Weaver and opened her mouth.
"Open it wider," Miss Weaver said, not satisfied with her performance, "and keep your eyes open. I want you to see what happens to girl's who behave like sluts.
And with those words Miss Weaver held the sponge over Karen's wide open mouth and squeezed it so that a steady, thick stream of soap suds dripped into her tongue, and started to slide down her throat.
The taste of the detergent was awful and Karen almost gagged as her mouth filled up with it.
"You stand still," Miss Weaver warned her as she sensed Karen's reaction.
And as Karen looked at her out of the corners of her tearing eyes she saw the triumphant, sneering expression of Miss Weaver's face as she began to scrub her tongue, teeth, and the inside of her mouth with the sponge. When she was done with her administrations she casually put the sponge back in its tray and told the crying Karen to rinse out her mouth and wash the glass again when she was done. She then went back into the living room, sat on the couch and waited for her young, humiliated prey to finish the task she had been assigned.
And as she watched Karen cleaning out the gobs of soapy detergent from her mouth, crying, choking and gagging from its effects she felt a feeling of power build inside her and she became determined to make this beautiful, rich little bitch suffer the worst humiliations she could conceive. Although it was only a flash , over in an instant, Miss Weaver felt her contempt for Karen above all her other feelings and sensations. She felt contempt for all the money her parents had, how she had grown up in the lap of luxury, given everything that money could by her. Why, the tuition for this school alone was more than Miss Weaver could make in three years of working. Miss Weaver had always been poor, and had to work very, very hard for whatever she had gotten. She had worked for a scholarship to college while holding down two jobs to support herself. She worked as a waitress in imagine restaurants where rich bastards like Karen's mother and father spent their evenings eating like pigs and drinking themselves into stupid, drunken states.
She had always hated the work, having to wait on these spoiled, pretentious people, acting in the capacity of a servant when she knew she was smarter and had more smarts and class than most of them. But she had to act subservient to all of them until she could work herself through school, which she finally did. But the memory of that humiliating work, and the abuse she had taken from the so-called "society people" that she had waited on never left her.
And here, in this school for rich, undisciplined, spoiled little brat bitches, she was now in a position to treat the children of these wealthy bastards like they had regarded her, like an unuseful, disposable servant.
Twenty minutes later, after Karen had cleaned the sink and regained her composure, she was again seated on the sofa next to Miss Weaver. But the pills had now begun to take effect and a drowsy, half-alert expression of someone on downers began to show. And realizing that she was beginning to get off on the pills, Karen felt a sense of gratitude and relief. She knew she was not done here yet, that Miss Weaver was not going to let her go back to her room yet, and being stoned would help her get through whatever else was in store for her.
She didn't have to wait long to find out what that was either, as Miss Weaver went into the bedroom for a moment and returned with a short, black waitresses' uniform. There was a short white apron to go along with it and a triangled-shaped hat. "Go and put this on," she was ordered, Miss Weaver pointing to the bathroom. "And be quick about it."
Karen wanted to ask why, but dared not. Instead she got up on her increasingly unsteady legs and went into the bathroom to change. As she did Miss Weaver leaned back on the sofa and massaged her aching nipples, which were straining through the material of her dress. "Yes," she though to herself, "she would treat this little rich bitch the way she deserved." And the knowledge of what was to come gave heat to the feelings of power within her. And as these feelings grew in intensity a sexual heat was also growing, which she was now cultivating by massaging her breasts and nipples.
When Karen emerged from the bathroom Miss Weaver smiled a cruel, satisfied smile. Standing in the high-heeled shoes she had also given her, with her little hat perched atop her head Karen was the perfect image of a sexy little cocktail waitress. And again it immediately brought back all the memories of when she herself had worn an almost identical outfit and had been subjected to the snide, rude sexual remarks by all the drunk rich men, and the disgusting, groping hands and fingers that they had felt her with hundreds of times as she walked past them or served them drinks. She quickly, but vividly remembered how those drunk pigs would purposefully drop things and order her to bend over and pick them up so that they could get a clear view of her crotch and ass. The dresses were always short because the management of the restaurant knew that the men loved it that way. And she was always required to wear black panties so as when she did bend over it wouldn't be as obvious. She remembered all the shame and humiliation she had suffered at the hands of those dirty, stinking rich bastards, and as she stared at Karen she experienced an evil, but satisfying feeling.
The hem of the waitress's uniform which Karen was wearing was extremely short. Miss Weaver had sewn it that way on purpose. She wanted Karen to be as exposed and humiliated as she had always been and felt. The hem of this dress came only about an inch below her crotch and ass-cheeks and as she walked across the room on command, trying to steady herself on her high-heels, her small blue bikini underwear were visible. After walking across the room Karen stood in front of Miss Weaver who was still seated.
"I think maybe I'll make you my permanent little maid," she said eyeing her up and down like she was a piece of property. "Wouldn't you like that, you little slut?"
Even though her mind was fogging more and more rapidly now, Karen knew she was expected to answer in the affirmative, and she did. "Yes, Ma'am," she said with a slur of words, "I'd like to be your maid."
"Good," said Miss Weaver as if Karen had just gotten the job, "but a few alterations have to be made. Take off those panties."
Karen wanted to object, to ask why that was necessary, but she couldn't. She could not go again Miss Weaver's will. Bending down and holding on to the arm of the sofa for support she raised on leg at a time and slid the panties off, giving Miss Weaver as good a view of her tender, young pink cunt lips as her two roommates had when they sat cross-legged in a circle wearing only their nighties.
"So that's your hot crack that's caused all this trouble?" Miss Weaver said rather than asked. And as she said it she held the front of the dress up so that Karen's whole patch of pubic hair and cunt mound was plainly visible. Karen knew she expected a reply. "Yes Ma'am,"
"Well, we're going to fix it good," she said ominously, but with determination. "And maybe if you're really sorry, I won't have to tell Headmistress Mollingford."
Karen felt a great burden lift from her. She found herself thanking Miss Weaver in earnest. She was actually grateful to this woman who had already washed her mouth out with soap and who now had her dressed as a maid.
And even though Karen was standing there in front of her, at her complete disposal, helpless to prevent her from keeping her dress lifted in front of her so that she stood with her cunt fully exposed, she felt that she could get through the rest of this ordeal. She had no idea of why Miss Weaver had made her dress this way, or why she had made her remove her panties and was now staring at her cunt, but she didn't care. This humiliation, this punishment was worth it. Betty and Mary would be so relieved to hear that she had saved them.
And trying to stand still, her legs wobbling from the effects of the pills and the great sigh of relief that had swept over her she didn't or couldn't if she wanted to, resist Miss Weaver from taking the scanty pair of blue bikini panties and using them to wipe her cunt with. Miss Weaver pulled apart the lips of Karen's vulnerable cunt and wiped at it until the crotch of the panties was wet and sticky.
And then looking at Karen with a self-satisfied smirk she told her, "We'll use this as a gag for you so when I spank your naughty crack, no one will hear it."