Chapter 2

Excited by the throbbing wetness I felt under my fingertips, I moaned softly, and pressed my hand harder against the thickness of his erection. The wetness seemed to ooze out, spreading like a mist across the soggy material. I pinched into the swollen tip of his penis, where I judged the head of his shaft to be, and I squeezed into it with all my strength. Richard moaned in shame and protestation, but I ignored his pleas, and continued to stroke the shaft. For a moment the head seemed to swell in my grip, and I could actually feel it throb one last time as it spit forth the remaining ejaculation of sperm in a sticky, pulsating gush of wetness. Then the cock seemed to shrivel in size and thickness, like a balloon with a slow leak, until it was small and soft under the press of my fingertips.

The moment I felt the orgasm erupting under my touch, and when I felt the cooling stain of his excitement making his jeans smell of sweat and musky sex, I knew, right then and there, that I had to have Richard Lowe. I had to have him fully and totally.

But first I had to humiliate him further.

I slapped him viciously across the face.

The impact of the blow sent waves of pain shooting up from my hand, where it stung against his cheek, up the length of my arm, burning vibrations of dull aching tightness into my shoulder. The slap hit him flush on the cheek, drawing his eyes from their downward position, with a look of startled surprise, and perhaps even fear as he realized his ordeal was far from over. The blow staggered him, knocking him to one side, causing him to stumble, almost losing his balance, as he spun into the desks in the next aisle.

He moaned out loud, in pain, in shame, in surprise and confusion. He said something about being sorry, and his face turned purple with his suffering.

"You came!" I accused him, spitting out the words through my clenched teeth. I leaped up from the desk where I had been sitting, standing now in the aisle, and I felt my skirt slide like a whisper down my widely parted thighs. My panties were totally drenched, from the cheeks of my ass, well up past the broad mound of my crotch, sticking to my sweaty flesh like lipstick. I closed my thighs as a sudden wash of pleasure rippled across my belly, pressing into the swollen mound, as if I could contain that excitement or somehow deaden its effects. Just the reverse was the order, and the sensation rose until I was trembling in its wake, and my knees grew weak from the intensity of my pleasure. To cover over this momentary lapse of control, I screamed loudly again, spitting my contempt, and desire, into Richard's unsuspecting, innocent face. "You came!" I repeated. "You disgusting, vile, immature faggot! You came from that? From only that? So soon...so soon? Damn you!...Goddam you!"

His perfect blue eyes seemed unfocused and clouded, rimmed in red, stained with tears. He held his hands in front of him, his fingers open and uplifted, as if he were pleading with me through his anguish.

"I'm...sorry," he said, not fully grasping yet what it was he had to feel sorry about. He said the words automatically, without thinking, without measuring them against the present circumstance, saying them, rather, out of habit and training. For, if he had thought for a moment, he would have seen that our roles should have been reversed, and it should have been apologizing to him. Of course, I wasn't about to give him the benefit of that doubt, and was, in fact, content to take even fuller advantage of his pain. I allowed his pleading explanations to continue, knowing full well that the mood was building toward an irreversible conclusion. He said: "I'm sorry, Miss Harper. I didn't.. . I mean...I didn't mean to.. . I-I'm sorry."

I took a deep breath and attempted to compose myself, an extraordinary difficult task to accomplish, for I was trembling inside. My body was like an electric wire, charged full with passion, pent up to the bursting point, needing to be vented to prevent an explosion. I balled my hands into twin fists, digging my fingernails into my palms, but forced my arms to hang heavily at my sides. Looking directly into his eyes, in my softest, coldest voice, I said:

"Take out your cock."

Richard looked at me dumbly, blinking his eyes as if he had no understanding at all about what I was talking. The color drained from his face, and his lower hp trembled as he tried to speak.

"That's right," I repeated. "Take out your cock."

He shook his head, like a child who was afraid to hear the judgment of his parent over some misdeed he had performed. His hair splayed out from his shoulders as he continued to express his terror-filled apprehension. His eyes grew wide and clear, the color fading, until they seemed to bulge from the gaunt skull of his face. He lifted his hand, as if to brush aside my words, as if the movement of his fingers through the air between us could somehow erase my request.

"This-no!" he mumbled, shaking his head from side to side, his eyes growing wider and wider. "Miss Harper, this is crazy...insane! You can't...God, no...please!"

"NOW!"

The savage slap of the word, and the inflexibility of the authority that had delivered it, made him cower and cringe. He shrunk back into himself, appearing suddenly very much younger than his fifteen years. He had moved his hands up toward his face, as if for protection, but the reality of the moment stopped him before he had completed the protective response, and the hands dropped uselessly to his side.

"Now," I said again, whispering the word sensually. I touched his cheek with my fingers, caressing his flesh. "Now, Richard. Right now."

He nodded wordlessly, defeated. His hands, as if manipulated by some unseen power, moved to the zipper of his jeans. For one moment he hesitated, perhaps to rid himself of some last shred of resistance, and then he opened the zipper. The jeans were soggy with sperm, and gingerly, delicately, he separated the folds of damp material, coming at last to the cotton whiteness of his underwear.

"Good boy," I whispered, my palms sweating, my mouth suddenly dry. I stared into the yawning slash of material, my eyes fixed hypnotically upon the diminished lump of his penis. "Now, take it out, Richard. Take it out."

"Don't tell anybody, Miss Harper, please," he said. He looked small and helpless, just as I wanted him.

"Do as I say, Richard," I said, stroking his face more fully now, running my fingers across his shallow cheeks until I came to his mouth. Impulsively, I stiffened my index finger, and I pushed it at the wet open center between his lips. His mouth closed tightly around the finger, and he began to suck upon it, stroking it sensually with the tip of his tongue. The next time I repeated the request, my voice was purring sexily: "Take your cock out for me, Richard. For me."

"Yes, Miss Harper," he said, and he reached into the sodden mass of his undershorts, and pulled out his limp, coated penis.

A surge of raw sexuality charged through my body at the sight of it hanging there. The penis was small and slender, flaccid in state, dangling almost obscenely from the yawning mouth of his zipper. His flesh was pale, almost colorless in hue, and against the blond, patchy cluster of pubic hairs jutting from the open zipper, it was overwhelmingly erotic. I felt myself turning on un-like anything I could remember ever having felt before. And then, as if it somehow were not sexy enough, I watched as a single drop of sperm oozed from the tip of the shriveled penis, clung there for a moment, then broke away and fell, making a soundless wet splatter on the wooden floor.

Without thinking, I dropped to my knees and took the dangling appendage between my lips, and I began to suck.

"Oh Jesus! Oh Jesus!" he cried, his voice filling the room as if he were in mortal pain. The entire length of his body quivered, as if the contact had produced an electric current which was now flowing through him. His arms jangled spastically up and down, and his breath sucked in audibly. "Oh Jesus! Oh Jesus!"

His penis felt soft and mushy between my lips, and the lingering tartness of his discharge dribbled across my tongue, spreading into my saliva. The shaft was small and limp, flopping disjointedly against the sharp edge of my teeth. The instant I felt it between my lips, I tightened them around the shaft of the penis, sucking the lifeless finger of flesh deep into my mouth, until my lips were buried in his crotch. The cock throbbed once against the opening of my throat, and something slid down my gullet. Something thick and wet and rolling, tasting slightly of salt.

"Jesus, Miss Harper!" Richard continued, moaning in disbelief. His eyes were wide open, and he was staring down, in utter amazement. Never once, even in his wildest, most private fantasies, had he ever considered the possibility of something as incredible as this happening to him. "Jesus, Miss Harper! Jesus!"

I closed my eyes and began to suck, deeply, wetly, with every bit of technique I had developed over the years. The cock that was in my mouth, without question, was unaware of the indescribable ecstasies of oral-genital contact. Even if his adolescent Alice had attempted to fellate him-a probability I tended to doubt-her ability could not have been anywhere as accomplished as mine. What Richard was getting was the most mind-blowing, incredible fantasy-turned-real experience of his lifetime. Never before, and never again would any sexual experience effect him so profoundly, so shatteringly as the events I planned for him. This afternoon would live in his memory, live in his very personality, for all the rest of the afternoons of his entire life. So I closed my eyes and I began to suck, deeply, wetly, and with every ounce of my being.

"Oh, God, Miss Harper!" he cried, his body stiffening as my lips began to gobble up and down the twitching staff. His hands leaped up from his sides, and he grabbed my head with all ten fingers. He tangled his grip into my hair, straining with the muscles of his arms, pulling me closer to his belly, pushing his stiffening penis down into my throat, until my lips were puckered against his belly. His hips began to undulate, rippling in and out, picking up on the rhythm of my sucking as I pushed and pulled my mouth up and down the length of the shaft. "I can't believe this, Miss Harper. I can't believe this is really happening! It's-Jesus!"

I could feel the shaft lengthening in my mouth, growing thicker and longer, swelling as I filled it with renewed pleasure. The walls of the shaft began to firm, and the head of the penis thickened across the back of my tongue until it cut my breathing completely off, and I had to suck in air through my nostrils. The dank smelling odor of sweaty manliness was like a heady elixir, and I felt my head reeling with wild, sexual thoughts.

I stiffened my tongue on the back-slide of my lips, when the head of his shaft was pressed against my teeth, and I licked the tongue across the end of his penis, washing it with my saliva until it was completely coated. His cock moved like a precision engine, a piston, ramming in and out with mounting speed and accuracy, drilling the elongating thickness of his erection from the wet press of my lips, deep into the sucking opening of my throat. I hollowed my cheeks, until they made physical contact with the sides of the shaft, until the entire length of the erection was encased in the wet, pulling tube of my tongue, my lips, my mouth, my throat.

"Oh, Jesus, Miss Harper," he moaned, pressing upward with his hips, grinding them against my face, locking me to his belly with straining arms that were like bands of steel. Fully erect now, his cock began to swell and throb familiarly, leaking something thin and drool-like down my throat. "I'm gonna...I'm gonna-come!"

I released his erection.

"Noooo!" he moaned, and tried to pull me back against his wet, quivering shaft. "Don't, please...don't! I was gonna..."

I stood erect in front of him, my eyes blazing with passion, barely in control of my emotions. I could have allowed him to complete the act, for it certainly was something I would have enjoyed unquestionably, realizing as I did that it would have been his first time. But that was too easy, too simple a way to end it. What I had in mind for Richard Lowe would have made that type of release seem pale in comparison. I was going to give him something that he would never forget.

"Shut up!" I commanded. I pulled my hand back across my body, threatening to slap him again. He cowered at the gesture, shrinking back a step or two. He grew silent. I smiled. "Very good. Very good."

I stared down at his erection. It was thick and hard, capped with a red, circumcised tip, as long and stiff now as it had seemed shriveled and limp before. It was like a curving shaft of carved ivory, decorated with the fine branching network of veins and blood vessels. His testicles dangled obscenely down the front of his damp, disarrayed jeans, their flesh smooth and unwrinkled, covered with the fine, thread-like fibers of long blond strands.

"Don't let it go down," I warned, stabbing my finger into his face. My voice was threatening in its command. "Don't let it go down again until I'm finished with it. You selfishly ruined it once already. I'm not about to allow that to happen again, until I've had my fun." I smiled coldly at him. "Is that understood, Richard?"

"Yes, Miss Harper. Yes...."

I reached down and caressed the erection, sliding my fingers around the thick shaft. The wetness of my saliva coated it, and the movement of my hand was smooth and effortless against his slippery flesh.

"Good boy, Richard," I said softly, making sure to emphasize the differences in our age. "That's a very good boy." He bowed his head.

Walking quickly to the classroom door, I opened it and peered out into the hallway. The corridor was empty, devoid of teachers or students. It was after class hours, and we weren't about to be interrupted at this point. I pulled the door further open, and gestured to Richard to approach me.

"Come on!" I prodded, when he seemed hesitant

He began to stuff his still-erect penis back into his sperm-drenched jeans.

"Don't you dare! You leave that exactly where it is, exactly the way it is. From here on in, I'll be telling you exactly what I want you to do. And if you don't react fast enough for my view, the suffering and humiliation you'll endure will make everything that's happened so far seem insignificant by comparison. Understand?"

As though he'd received a shock, his hands pulled back from his open pants. He nodded imperceptibly, speaking in a colorless, defeated voice:

"Yes, Miss Harper."

I stepped out into the silent, empty hallway, shuddering suddenly from the thrill of excitement that shivered up my spine. My flesh broke out in tiny cold bumps, and I rubbed my fingers up and down against my arms, trying to make the skin smooth again. My breast felt swollen inside the clutching prison of my bra, and the nipples were so stiff they seemed brittle, readying to snap off with the slightest caress of pressure. The air in my lungs seemed to be screaming for release, but I let it out slowly, in short, shuddering slips of breath. I nodded to Richard, indicating for him to follow me.

"And don't let that go down," I said, pointing to his proudly rigid erection, "or you'll pray to God that you wish you hadn't." I looked quickly up and down the deserted corridor. "Come with me."

The school is arranged in the general shape of a square-off circle, with a single line stretched across the width of that shape. The classrooms are arranged along the outer rim of the circle, and the line down the middle was a corridor, connecting one side of the building with the other. We made our way down the hallway, to the intersection, and I poked my head around the bend of the wall, to see whether we could proceed any further. Thankfully, this corridor was empty, and I could see all the way across to the far side of the silent school.

"Wait here," I said, and I slipped down the hallway. About halfway down, I came to a door. Hesitating for a moment, I pushed the door open and I stepped in. After a careful inspection, I convinced myself that the room was empty, and I pulled the door open again. "Come on," I whispered, urging him forward. "Quickly."

Richard moved in short, mincing steps, hurrying to find some form of cover which would conceal his exposed condition. As he hurried toward me, I could not get over the feeling of how absurd he suddenly appeared. Fully dressed, with a stain of drying sperm like a dark patch across his jeans, and with his zipper open and his cock poking out, the up and down movement of his steps made the erect shaft bob like a cork on a stormy sea. The swollen head of his erection was like a weaving red eye, searing a path through the dimly-lit hallway.

He reached the door. "I can't go in there!" he protested, staring at the stenciled sign painted on the door. "That's the girl's bathroom."

"Shut up," I said, "and come on in."

Richard came right in."

We walked across the tiled floor to the stalls against the far wall. There were three stalls, and I entered the middle one, pushing open the swinging door. Richard followed me into the booth.

I turned and faced him. "Get down on your knees," I said. "Right now."

Obediently, he got down on his knees, kneeling in front of me, as if he were praying. I reached down and grasped the hem of my skirt, pulling it up until my thighs were completely exposed. I tucked the hem of the skirt into the waistband of my skirt, tucking also in the tail of my blouse. My legs were naked, right up to the swollen, damp mount of my panties.

"Lick my cunt," I said: "Through my panties."

And, like my own personal slave, obedient, fifteen-year old Richard Lowe, did exactly as I asked.