Chapter 7
"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."