Chapter 10
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.