Chapter 2
The next morning I got up bright and early. In the distance I could hear the shouts of the girls as they got ready for another day of school. So far I'd only met two of the girls here, but I'd caught glimpses of a few of the others, and I wanted to get to know them better. I wanted to help them with their extra-curricular activities.
I got out of bed, but before I could get my clothes on the door burst open and two chicks stuck their heads in. "Felicia was right!" one of them yelled. "There really IS a man here!"
"Yeah," gloated the other one. "An' take a look at that cock of his. Hey, Mister," she said to me. "You an' I will have to get together some time."
And then they were gone, leaving the door open and shouting "Hey, girls! Cock at last! Cock at last!"
I got up and started putting my clothes on. I didn't bother to shut the door; I figured that they would just open it up again. But I decided that as soon as I could I'd have a lock put on that door; the harder it was for the girls to get me the more they would want me.
The old guy who had lived here before had left some bacon and sausages and various other things, and the stove was in working order, so I cooked myself some breakfast. This layout was even better than I'd hoped. I still hadn't discussed the salary with Old Bitchface Watson yet, but this place was so ritzy I figured I'd get paid plenty.
When I was through eating I went outside, looking for the shed where the gardening tools were kept. As the only man on the campus I had the sexual opportunity of a lifetime, but I knew that I had to spend a certain amount of time doing my chores as gardener and caretaker, or else I'd be booted out on my butt. Well, every good deal has a catch to it.
I found the tool shed and went into it. And there, standing two feet in front of me, was Old Lady Watson! She-or I should say "it"-was taking inventory, writing things down on a big clipboard. When she saw me she looked up and smiled, shoving a lot of yellow teeth in my face.
"Ah, Mister Masterson," she gushed. "I've been waiting for you. There are still one or two details of your duties here that we haven't discussed yet."
"I know," I told her, not bothering to be any more pleasant than was necessary. "The salary, for one."
"That is correct. Your weekly wage is to be one hundred thirty dollars, plus living facilities, and one day off a week. I trust that that will be sufficient."
I nodded. It wasn't as much as I'd expected, but then this job had enough fringe benefits to make up for that. Besides, I really did need the bread.
Old Werewolf Watson was still talking. "There's been one thing I've been meaning to ask you, Mister Masterson: how is it that a man of your experience and abilities, who has worked for one of the nation's leading gardening magazines, decided to take this rather poor-paying job here?"
This question caught me off guard, but I remembered my lie from the previous day and decided to reinforce it. "Felicia Hanley, one of your students, is my niece," I told her. "She is not very close to her parents emotionally and I decided it might be a good idea for me to keep an eye on her."
Old Scumface nodded. "I understand. How unselfish of you, Mister Masterson." She turned to go, then stopped and came back. "Oh, just one more thing..."
"What is it, ma'am?" I asked. When the hell was this sea monster going to get out of here and leave me alone?
She came closer. "Mister Masterson, you happen to be the only male on a campus containing nearly six hundred young girls, as well as the several dozen ladies of the faculty and staff. I realize that many men would feel a strong temptation to...take advantage of the situation, and I want to inform you that any such action on your part will not be tolerated. Do I make myself clear, sir?"
"Yes, ma'am." Look, you leftover from the Stone Age, get outa here before I puke all over your so-called face.
She went back towards the door. "Well, I'll be leaving you to your tasks now. Naturally, you will be responsible for keeping the grounds in perfect condition. I suppose that Miss Rodinas made that all quite clear to you."
"Yes, ma'am. Cynthi...I mean, Miss Rodinas was a big help to me. A big help."
Old Bat-Face stared at me oddly for a second, and then she was gone. And not a moment too soon. Despite what I'd said to the old crow when I'd applied for the job, I really knew practically nothing about gardening and groundskeeping. So I decided to start out with the simple things and work my way up. I walked around trying to look busy until I found a lawn on the campus that needed weeding. I got down on all fours and started weeding.
I'd been at it for less than ten minutes when a chick came over, carrying a bunch of books in front of her, so that I couldn't see how big her tits were. She stood right in front of me, and because I was down on my hands and knees I could look right up her dress. It looked as though "no panties" wasn't the school uniform after all, because this girl had on a pair; yellow ones with white lace at the edges.
She noticed that I was staring up between her legs. "Hi," she said. "Well, it looks like things are looking up."
I turned red, and hastily withdrew my gaze from that wonderful vista between the chick's legs. "Oh, I don't mind a bit," she assured me hastily. "After all, a girl wouldn't wear such a short skirt if she didn't want guys looking up it. So look all you want. Feast your eyes."
I would have raped her right there, but way off in the distance I could see one of Miss Watson's old farts watching me like a hawk. I'd have to give this chick the brush-off now and get back to her later. "I'm really busy, Miss," I told her, trying to sound as if I meant it. "I'm busy doing all this weeding."
"The hell you are," said the girl, squatting down next to me. That old bat in the distance was walking towards us. "If you're weeding then I'm a virgin."
"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked. If I was doing something wrong I wanted to know about it before Old Vampire Watson found out I was a phony.
"You're not weeding at all," the girl went on. "You're pulling up more grass than weeds. And you're missing all the daisies."
"Daisies are flowers," I muttered. That orangutang in the distance was getting closer all the time.
The girl laughed. "Daisies are weeds, buddy; any real gardener would know that."
"Okay," I confessed. "So I'm a fake. But I need the job. Run along and leave me alone, huh?"
The girl wouldn't quit. "You need this job like a frog needs wings," she blurted. "I know your angle, pal: you figure once you get this job you can fuck every girl in sight, don't you?"
Why wouldn't this cunt leave me alone? "I'm too busy to even fuck a knothole," I told her. "Besides, I really do need the money." That part was true; I was down to my last couple of bucks.
The girl stood up. "Well, listen, pal: rumor has it that Felicia Hanley and Cynthia Rodinas have already fallen into your clutches. Felicia's sixteen, but Cynthia's underage. If word got out that you'd fucked her, Old Lady Watson would have you put away for statutory rape."
And if this girl didn't leave me alone, in a couple of minutes they'd be putting me away for first-degree murder. That old fart on the horizon was getting uncomfortably close.
But the girl kept on talking. "If I told Miss Watson that you'd screwed Felicia and Cynthia, it would be my word against yours. But I'm the one she'd believe, and you'd be in heap big trouble. So with that plus the fact that I know you're not a real gardener, I've really got you by the balls."
"Okay," I said, willing to do just about anything to get this chick off my back. "Okay, you've got me. Now that you've got me, what are you gonna do with me?"
"It's very simple, stud," she said coolly.
"My name's Melanie Simpson. Now that the word's out there's a cock on campus every girl in the school will be standing in line to ball you. Well, pal, there's only one girl you're gonna fuck, and that's me."
I kept on weeding, making sure to get the daisies this time. The aborigine in the distance was about ten yards away now.
"You'll fuck me whenever I tell you to," Melanie was saying. "And you won't fuck anyone else, whether you like it or not. Otherwise I go to Old Watson and spill the beans about your little escapades with Felicia and Cynthia, not to mention the fact that you lied about being a gardener. And Old Shitface hates liars worse than rapists."
The old fart, whoever she was, was right next to us. "Simpson," she barked, "what are you doing here, Melanie? You should be in class. And furthermore, young lady, just why are you detaining this man from his duties? You should be in class by now."
"Right away, Miss Hyde." Melanie got up and went towards one of the campus buildings. But before she went she gave me a very significant look. I knew that this girl was going to cause plenty of trouble for me. And if I gave in to her demands that would only make things worse.
Miss Hyde, who looked more like Jekyll and Hyde, walked up to me. "Mister Masterson, you're not to allow the students to interfere with your duties. In fact, you're to have nothing to do with them whatsoever; you are an employee here, not a house guest. I trust I make myself clear?"
"Yes, ma'am." Get away from me, you old bitch, I thought to myself. Can't you see I have enough problems?
But the old witch wouldn't leave me alone. "I particularly do not wish to see you associating with Miss Simpson. She is a troublemaker and a nuisance and she may have to be expelled one of these days. She refuses to obey her teachers, and the only reason that she does what I tell her to is because she knows I found out about her little shenanigan with the laundry man. I ought to have reported her to Miss Watson, but I am too charitable for my own good. Now get to WORK!"
Ah, blackmail is rampant here! Then she was gone. But Old Lady Hyde had been a real help to me. So Melanie Simpson had been putting out for the laundry man, eh? Well, if she can blackmail me I could blackmail her. Fight fire with fire is my motto.
As soon as Miss Hyde disappeared Melanie popped out from somewhere or other and came at me again. "Okay, Green Thumb," she told me sadistically, "like I said, you service me and nobody else, or else I squeal. And I want some right now. So do you oblige me, or would you rather get sent up for rape?"
All I had to do was let on that I knew about the laundry man, and I would have this chick over the same barrel she had me on. But I decided to let her have her fun a little longer. "Shouldn't you be in class?" I asked her.
"Fuck class," was her answer. "And anyway it ain't class, it's study hall. I just sit there and read. Who needs it? So you get up and fuck me, fella, or else you'll be doin' ten-to-twenty on the rock pile."
I got up. "You win," I told her, pretending that she really did have me up against the wall. "Your place or mine?"
"Yours, of course. Us girls don't have any privacy in this place; we sleep four to a form. So you just getcher ass back into that cute little gardener's shed, and as soon as nobody's watching I'll be there to join you, and you can welcome me with open legs."
I sighed and went towards the shack. "Okay, but make it snappy. I've got a lot of work to do."
I went back to my quarters, turned on the light and shut the door. There was still some bacon on the stove and I ate it. Then I tidied up the bed a bit, because I knew that company would be dropping in. But not for afternoon tea.
A minute later somebody knocked on the door. Out loud I said "I wonder who that could be?"
Melanie came in and slammed the door shut. "Get on that bed, lover," she commanded. "I ain't had hot dick in a month, and I'm not leaving this room until I get some. And neither are you."
I leaned over and patted the bed. "I'm ready when you are," I told her. "Get your clothes off."
She shook her head. "Not me, baby. This'll have to be a rush job. YOU strip. I'm just gonna pull up my dress and pull down my panties." I just stood there looking at her. "Well, what are you waiting for? STRIP!"
I started to tug off my jacket and shirt, and she watched in admiration as my bronzed hairy chest came into view. "God almighty," she breathed softly. "I ain't seen a chest like that in ages."
I grinned. "Well, you're seeing one now." My trousers were at half-mast, and I kicked them off and started to take off my boots. Melanie leaned forward eagerly, and I could tell that she was anxious to get a look at that bulge underneath my shorts. Well, I wanted to see what she had just as much as she wanted to see what I had.
I was naked now except for the shorts, and I started to take them off. "Uh uh, lover," Melanie corrected me. "That's women's work. Allow me to do the honors." With three strides of her long, beautiful legs she was across the room and standing inches away from me. With one quick, clean motion her hands were in the waistband of my shorts, pulling them outwards and tugging them down to my knees. She took a long, hard look at what was underneath. "Aha, me proud beauty."
And then I grabbed her and pushed her down onto the bed. The bedsprings groaned when she hit the mattress, but they'd be groaning even harder in a minute. I pushed her down and got on top of her, pulling down her panties and throwing them across the room. Then I pushed her dress up around those luscious tits of hers and spread her legs.
"Open up and let me in," I told her. And then my rock-hard pillar of passion was slid past her clit and into the wild blue yonder. I started pumping like mad, and an instant later I bent her body backwards under mine and kissed her hard on the mouth, probing the inner recesses of her oral erogenous zone with my trained, experienced tongue. And it was obvious that Melanie's tongue had been around too, because it knew exactly what to do. I was really getting stimulated, and I felt the bigness of my cock get still bigger within the girl's flesh, spreading the lips of her pussy wider than they'd probably ever been spread before.
"Oh, lover," she moaned as I tongued her. "I want a fuck that'll last me a lifetime. Fuck me harder. Fuck me HARDER!"
I didn't have to be told twice. My prickerel was churning up and down inside her pussy and getting her hotter with every passing moment. I could feel her body begin to vibrate, and soon my cock was vibrating to the same beat, twanging back and forth inside her and picking up speed all the time. Faster and faster. The more I pumped, the harder her pussy squeezed my meat, and the hotter she got. But I could feel the inside of her hole getting wetter and wetter, and that pretty soon she'd be creaming like mad.
And then my cock exploded with the heat of a thousand suns, bursting into flames of passion as I came within her flesh. As my wad of cock-sauce sped towards its destination I could feel a whole delicious erotic fireworks display going on between our bodies. We locked limbs, and a moment later we were both quivering like one huge organism that fed itself on its own desires and delights.
And then Melanie was creaming too, and we both sailed off into an exploratory ecstasy of delicious delight. This girl really knew how to ball a man, and she was making use of her knowledge. This chick was even better in bed that Felicia or Cynthia.
She gave one last little moan of passionate pleasure, and then we were both basking in the warmth of our own sex. But I wasn't through yet. There was still one more thing I wanted to do to this girl. And I was going to do it whether she liked it or not.
Without a word I got up off her beautiful body, and sat down on the edge of the bed. She was watching me through half-closed eyes, not really aware of what was happening. And then I brought her back to reality damned fast. I picked her up, put her over my knee with her ass pointing up at the ceiling, and brought my hand down hard with a tremendous SMACK!
She let out a howl. "What was that for?" she wanted to know.
"I'm spanking you, chick," I told her. Another stroke of the hand, and she writhed and twisted in agony. "I always spank my women. So you might as well lie back and enjoy it."
SMACK! A red mark was beginning .to appear on one of the bright pink cheeks of her ass. I'd start working on the other cheek soon.
SMACK! I hit her again. She whimpered, then cursed. "You bastard, let me up. I don't like this and I don't want it."
'Tough shit, baby," I smiled. "You'll take it and you'll like it." SMACK! "And if you don't like it then I'm gonna make you like it."
I hit her again and again, harder than before, and tears of pain began to well up in her gorgeous eyes. One trickled down her cheek and splashed onto the floor. "Let me up, damn you," she hissed. "Let me up or I'll scream so loud the whole school will come running."
I kept on spanking her. I was really enjoying it by now, and I hoped she was too, but if she wasn't it didn't matter. "Go ahead and yell, bitch," I told her. SMACK! "If anybody catches me in the act they'll catch you too. It takes two to tango."
She was biting her lip to keep from feeling the pain. "You bastard! Let me go this minute!"
"I'm not done yet. And neither are you; I think I missed a spot." I brought my hand down harder and harder and faster and faster, and when that hand got tired I used the other one. By now she was squirming around like crazy.
Finally I finished. I stood up and dumped her on the floor, and she landed on her bare, bruised ass and yelled bloody murder. Then she shot to her feet, rubbing her aching behind with both hands.
"Now you're really in for it," she hissed between her teeth. "I'm going straight to Miss Watson. She'll fire you and get you busted for statutory rape." Melanie ran to the corner and retrieved her panties, then started pulling them on over her throbbing butt.
"Go ahead and squeal on me," I said, pulling my own clothes on as I spoke. "But if you tell her about me and Cynthia I'll tell her about you and the laundry man."
Melanie almost dropped dead on the spot. "How the fuck did you know?" she gasped.
I smiled thinly. 'That's a trade secret. Anyway, if you squeal on me, then I'll squeal on you."
"You can't prove a word of it!"
"Neither can you," I reminded her. "And if you think you can get Felicia and Cynthia to testify against me, and condemn themselves in the process, your out of your skull. You thought you had me by the balls, chick. Well, now the tables are turned, and I've got you by the tits."
She looked as though she were going to cry. Then she brightened. "You mean we've both got each other. If either one of us squeals the other will too."
"Check, baby," I told her. "But if they find out about me I can zoom outa here on my cycle before the cops show up. If they find out about you where can you go?
"No, chick," I went on, giving her ass one last slap. "I'm the one who's giving the orders now. And the orders are these: forget you ever saw me, and don't come hanging around here begging for me to throw you some spare dick. I'll fuck you if and when I feel like it, not when you tell me to. And if you breathe one word of what you know about me to anyone at all, even your fellow schoolgirls, then you can just get ready for me to reciprocate. I'm sure that Old Buggerface Watson would just love to hear about you and the laundry man. Now, git!" and I shoved her out the door. She went flying and landed on her face. She got up and ran, not daring to look back. There were two big craters where her tits had fallen into the dirt.
I waited until she'd been gone for a while, and then I went out and got back to work. I could see that working here would be pretty risky, and I'd really have to watch my step.
But on the other hand, it was nice to have so many delicious chicks to come home to.
The rest of the day went by uneventfully, except that Felicia managed to grab a quick bite to eat (if you know what I mean) in the bushes. But, just as I was about to turn in for the night, Old Lady Hyde came pounding on my door.
I let her in, and she looked even sourer than she did that morning. "I'm sure that you will be grieved to know," she began, "that I have been forced to resign my position. I can stay here no longer."
Good riddance, I thought, one less ugly bitch breathing down my neck. Out loud I asked her what happened.
She sighed deeply. "Several hours ago Melanie Simpson went to Miss Watson and confessed about her little rendezvous with the laundry man. In the course of the confession it came out that I had known about it all along, but had not seen fit to report her. Naturally Miss Watson dismissed me." She turned to go. "It has been nice knowing you, sir. My replacement will be here in the morning."
I groaned. No sooner had I gotten rid of one old fart when another was coming to take her place! Oh, well, that's life. And, anyway, for every old witch who was flying around the campus, there were thirty or forty schoolgirls just waiting for me to give them an education. Now that Melanie Simpson was out of the way, I didn't have to worry about interference in my amorous plans.
And then Old Lady Hyde was gone, and I turned out the light and went to sleep, not even bothering to take my clothes off.
The next day I woke up early, because there was a lot of shouting and running outside. I remembered what had happened my first morning here, and thought that another barrage of girls had invaded my privacy to stare at my cock. Well, let them come. I was ready for them.
But it turned out that, for once, the girls weren't interested in me. They were running right past me. Something was going on. I put on my shoes and ran out to see what I could see.
At least a hundred girls were running toward the other end of the campus and crowding around something. In the horde of female flesh that ran past me I recognized Cynthia, and I stopped her by the simple expedient of reaching out with one hand and grabbing her by the tit. "Hi, Cynthia," I called out. "What's going on?"
"Hello, Roger," she told me. "Apparently Old Miss Hyde's replacement has shown up. Normally we don't give two shits about the old bats that run this place, but there must be something special about this particular one because everyone's rushing to meet her." And then Cynthia pulled loose and fell into step with some other chicks who were running to get a look at this mysterious woman. I decided I ought to follow them, and see for myself what was going on.
By the time I got to where the woman was, I couldn't see her because a crowd twenty girls deep had formed around her. I saw Cynthia on one end of the throng and got next to her, and using our combined strength we managed to push our way slowly towards the front.
"Honestly," Cynthia was whispering in my ear, "none of us cared worth a damn before now about who ran this place. I wonder what's so special about this particular old fart."
And then as we got closer I found out the answer to that. And it seemed that the "old fart" wasn't even as old as I was; she couldn't have been a day over twenty-two.
She looked like a slightly more adult version of all the gorgeous school girls who were pressing against me. She had blonde hair that was even longer than Felicia's, and the tight dress with the short skirt that she had on showed off her body rather than hid it. And, believe me, that body was well worth showing off; she could have sold tickets and charged admission. And there was a look in the woman's eye that showed she was in the mood for fun, not like the sourpuss ladies that ran this place, who got their kicks sucking on lemons.
I gave a low whistle. "Jesus, get a look at the humps on that chick," I muttered. "Like a fuckin' camel! I'd walk a mile for her any day."
Cynthia pouted her little-girl mouth. "Now, Roger, I hope you're not going to dump Felicia and me for some old lady."
"Old lady my ass! I wish my grandmother was that kind of an old lady!" I realized that Cynthia was slightly jealous, so I made sure no one was looking and then I kissed her. "Don't worry about a thing, Cynth. I like you and Felicia, you know that. Every man would jump at the chance to go to bed with chicks like you, because you're young, innocent, almost virgins. But every so often a guy gets a craving for a chick that's closer to his own age. I figure a cunt is like a bottle of wine: up to a certain point, the longer you age it the better it tastes. Hell, I like you young girls, but I dig the chicks in their twenties too. I mean, variety is the spice of life."
By now most of the curious girls had had their look and had drifted away, and I suddenly realized that Cynthia and I and this gorgeous chick were the only things left. She came towards me and stuck out one hand and both tits. "Hello, I'm Stella Hunnicutt. You must be Mister Masterson. I've heard so much about you."
I shook her hand. "All of it good, I hope," I said, winking.
She winked right back. "Plenty good. According to Miss Felicia Hanley, you are the proud owner of a Coney Island Foot-Long. I'd like to see it some time." She came a little closer. "Mister Masterson, I enjoy teaching the girls here, but I have to have a little fun sometime to unwind. After all, I'm only human."
"Anyone can see that," I said. Stella Hunnicutt laughed, and I could see that Cynthia was turning green with envy. I decided to patch things up, because I didn't want to lose Cynthia even if I did pick up Stella. "Ms. Hunnicutt, I'd like you to meet Cynthia Rodinas. A student here, and a good friend of mine."
They exchanged greetings, and then the chick was making eyes at me again. "Let's get one thing straight," she told me. "I'm not 'Ms. Hunnicutt', I'm 'Stella'. Except when Old Lady Watson comes around, and then I'm a Miss, not a Miz. I don't believe in this Women's Liberation shit; the only women who do are old scumbags like Friedan and Abzug. They can't get treated like women so they try to get treated like men. Now as you can see," she waggled her hips for my benefit, "I look like a woman, so needless to say I get treated like one. And like it."
I smiled. I knew that I was going to get along with this lady fine. Just fine.
I picked up Stella Hunnicutt's bags, and carried them towards Miss Watson's office. Stella was right behind me, and I expected Cynthia to follow, but she didn't.
"I've gotta go to class now, Rodge," she told me. "Be a good boy until I get back." She turned to glare at Stella, her rival for my affections. "And just remember one thing, MISS Hunnicutt: Roger here is the exclusive property of me and Felicia Hanley, to use as we see fit. Private property, you understand? NO TRESSPASSING."
And then she was gone to go to class. Stella laughed and the two of us started walking again. Finally she spoke: "You seem to be in pretty big demand around here, Mister Masterson."
"The name's Roger." I tried to be modest, because too much ego turns a chick off, even when it comes from a great guy like me."I guess when you consider the fact that I'm the only cock in a forest of twats, it's only natural that I'm so popular."
She laughed again, and when she laughed her tits bounced up and down invitingly. I decided that I would have to make her laugh more often. "Don't be so modest, Mister Mas...I mean, Roger. I've gotten a pretty up-to-date progress report on you from Miss Hanley and it seems that you've got something that would be in big demand anywhere you might care to go."
I would have knocked her down and fucked her right then and there, but just then we were outside Old Dingbat Watson's office. I knocked on the door, and when she told us to come in we did so.
"Ah, yes, Miss Hunnicutt. Do come in, I've been expecting you." She turned towards me. "You may go. Please put the lady's luggage in her room, Number 2-C, Faculty Dorm."
"Yes, ma'am," I restrained an impulse to click my heels and do a Nazi salute. I took Stella's bags and carried them to the indicated room.
The door was unlocked, so I pushed it open and carried the bags in. The place must have belonged to Old Miss Hyde, because it smelled like her. But then, anything within fifteen miles of her did that. I tossed one bag onto the bed and tried to do the same with the second, but I underestimated the distance. The suitcase smashed against the edge of the bed and bounced onto the floor. The lid flew open and the bag's contents flew all over the place.
An instant later I got one of the biggest shocks of my career. I bent down to pick up the things that had fallen out of the bag, and then I saw what they really were. A black leather bra, and a pair of panties to match. A whip, several feet of steel chain, and something that looked like an electric cattle prod. There was a black garter belt with stockings attached, and a big rubber bulb with a long tube on the end that I figured must be an enema bag. And, right in the middle, of all this love-apparatus was a photograph of Stella Hunnicutt being chained to a table and whipped by a guy almost as big as I was! I went to have a closer look at the photo, and down at the bottom of it I noticed an inscription: "With fondest memories of a wonderful evening, Jack."
I let out a long, low whistle. So Stella liked her men to get her hot with a capital H! Well, I could dig that trip. She and I would be having "Fond memories of a wonderful evening" pretty damn soon, I told myself. I didn't want her to know that I was onto her just yet, so I put all her things back in the suitcase as I figured they'd been originally-including one or two items whose purpose I could only guess at, but I knew they looked pretty wicked-and closed the suitcase and put it on the bed as if it had been there all along. Then I went out of the room and closed the door.
I knew that Stella Hunnicutt would be having the time of her life pretty soon, and I was the guy who would be giving it to her.
After all, I had discovered her treasure trove. Now she would be forever open to me.