Chapter 10
Another full week had passed, marking the second week of black-haired Myra Castlebar's debut as instructress under the regime of Madame Helga. As yet, she had no knowledge that her former pupil Carol Bannister was now enrolled in this very school. But the honey-haired Amazonian directress, following her conspiratorial chat with Carol's lecherous and virile uncle the previous Sunday, had arranged a little tableau for Myra to come upon quite accidentally-though of course it would be no accident at ah.
Buxom silver-blonde Dorothea Bunson, in charge of the oldest girls at the school, had visited the dominatress on Friday morning to complain that one of her pupils had violated the rule against indiscriminate pairing off by having made her way late the previous evening to the room of one of Homer Grange's eighteen-year-old male pupils, Bob Salisbury. The culprit was Sally Avery, a stately, rather tall, nineteen-year-old, dark brown-haired girl who had been enrolled in the school by her fifty-year-old guardian, a banker who had been her dead father's close friend and who was lustfully enamored of the mature young brunette. Sally's mother had left her husband some five years previously to go off to Europe with a dashing Italian count, without caring that she left her daughter and husband behind her. Eventually Sally's father had obtained a divorce in a New York court on the grounds of desertion. Upon his death not quite a year ago, Sally's guardian had taken her into his Long Island home where he resided with an elderly housekeeper and two rather attractive young maids (both of whom he fucked) and had there determined to seduce her. However, at the time, SaUy seemed rather indifferent to male advances; but he discovered quite by chance she was infatuated with a handsome young senior in the college she was attending.
Shortly after her arrival at Danielson House to which she had gone with great reluctance because her secret affair had thus been broken off, her guardian had had the report from Dr. Penelope Fielding that his delightful ward was not a virgin. This made him ah the more determined to convert her to accepting him as her bed partner, and so he had given explicit instructions to Madame Helga and paid an additional fee for the special erotic training which his ward was to receive.
For the first week or two, Sally Avery had written her guardian anguished letters begging him to take her out of this dreadful place where she knew no one and where she doubted the value of any education she might receive. She wanted, she told her guardian, to find a job in New York City and earn her own living and perhaps have her own apartment. But a week or two later, she saw Bob Salisbury on his way to Homer Granger's morning class, and she very nearly called out her senior lover's name, for the resemblance was really amazing. like that young worthy who had had the prize of Sally's cherry, Bob Salisbury was tall, with curly black hair and a straight nose and firm mouth and sparkling blue eyes, yet with the physique of a football player.
A few days later, Bob and Sally met each other in the hall of one of the quadrangle buildings en-route to their respective classrooms, and this time Sally whispered a greeting and then vividly blushed. From then on, the two took every possible occasion to speak or whisper, always with the precautions that none of the teachers or the two matrons might discover what was happening. Eventually Sally made the rendezvous with the youth to come to his room and try him out in bed to see if he was the equal of the boy who had given her her first fucking and had given her a decided taste for more of the same before her guardian had ended this exciting idyll.
Dorothea Bunson had suspected that the attractive dark brown-haired Sally was getting a crush on one of the male students at Madame Helga's boarding school, and so she had already expressed her suspicions to the directress. It was a simple matter for the latter to use her closed-circuit TV system to keep tabs on Sally Avery, and Madame Helga was thus able to see for herself the stealthy entry of Sally into Bob's room and what took place thereafter. The youth undressed her, exclaiming over her charms, they clenched and fondled each other passionately as they exchanged long French kisses; then Bob pushed Sally onto the bed on her back and swiftly mounted her.
There was no danger of pregnancy at Madame Helga's boarding school; it was a very simple matter for the dominatress to have her cook drop a contraceptive pill into a coffee cup or hide it in a soup or a salad or a dish of pudding. Hence there would be no scandal as consequences from the forbidden fucking session which Bob and Sally had enjoyed all by themselves and without an authorization. So when Dorothea Bunson came in the next morning to tell her superior she had followed Sally down the hall at a distance so as not to be seen and had watched the young woman going into Bob Salisbury's room, Madame had merely laughed and said, "I saw a good deal more than that, my dear Dorothea. Very well, both of them shall be punished. But I have a little idea of how to profit from that punishment by letting our newest and very chaste young instructress watch and listen. We shall simply put her in the room adjacent to the testing room, where the punishment will take place. She will be sent there on some errand or another, but the one-way panel will be exposed and the audio system will be turned on so she cannot help seeing and hearing how you operate. I leave it to your own inventive nature, dear Dorothea, to amuse yourself with Bob and Sally. I am sure you will have your own fun out of it."
"Yes, indeed I shall," the silver-blonde instructress purred, her eyes shining with anticipation.
Myra Castlebar had finished dinner in the refectory, and was glad to escape back to her room. Both Carl Edwards and Jasper Maxon had had the effrontery to sit down on either side of her and each of them had then tried to talk her into visting their room late that night. Her cheeks scarlet, her superb boobs heaving, she unlocked the door of her room and turned the key to make certain no one could follow her. Of course she had no way of suspecting that the male instructors had done this at Madame Helga's specific orders. For by now the full-scale plan of Operation Myra was being put into action, and the process would first force her to become aware of the sexual aura which prevailed here at Danielson House, and then most particularly affect her psyche until finally her own tender virgin flesh would be exposed to its influence.
As for Carl Edwards and Jasper Maxon, after Myra had left them, both men laughingly expressed their views of the black-haired young woman's extreme prudishness, and then each regretted the fact that he would not be the one chosen to break Myra in and, in the process, pierce her vigilantly guarded cherry. "You mark my words, Jasper old boy," Carl Edwards winked at his crony, "the fellow who does get into Myra's panties is going to find he has unleashed a small volcano, unless I miss my guess. That sweet bitch is just dying to be stripped and screwed. The only trouble is, she doesn't want to admit it to herself."
"Yes, I daresay you're right, Carl." Jasper Maxon took out a cigar, drew off the cellophane wrapper, and lit it, drawing on it steadily until the glowing tip told him it was properly ignited. "She seems to be scared to death of a man, but I don't think she-likes girls either. At least, I haven't heard any rumors to support that theory."
"No, but if I know Madame Helga and I should," Carl Edwards chuckled, "some big shot behind the scenes is pulling the strings and paying a handsome price to be the puppet master so far as Myra is concerned. I certainly envy the lucky bastard, whoever he is. But all this talk has made me horny. I'll have to see if I can't get a nice weekend date with maybe Susan or Martha. I know Dorothea has other plans for tonight."
Dorothea Bunson indeed had other plans for this memorable Friday evening. Homer Grange had already told Bob Salisbury that he was to report at eight o'clock to the testing room, but without enlightening the young man as to the real reason for this assignment. Homer himself was somewhat disappointed that he hadn't been asked to supervise the double punishment of the two clandestine lovers. He was randy as ever, but he finally decided he could always have Christine Bernard back to comfort him. The thought brightened his gloomy face, and he went back to his room after an excellent dinner to smoke a cigar and to relish the moment when he would pick up the phone and ask one of the matron's to escort the demure, petite teenager to his apartment.
As for Sally Avery, she was mystified when, just before the bell rang for the final class this Friday afternoon, silver-blonde Dorothea Bunson eyed her and then, without a change of facial expression, calmly remarked before the entire class, "Sally, you are to report to the testing room at eight o'clock tonight. Be sure to be there unless you want a black mark against your record. And now, class dismissed!"
Suspecting nothing, Sally Avery had left on her blouse and skirt, since it was far too early for bed, and walked down the hallway and on to the other building where the testing room was located. She turned down the corridor, her heart almost stopped beating, for there at its end was Bob Salisbury, standing looking around and apparently most anxious and concerned, judging from the constant shiftings of his feet and the turning of his head. When he saw her come towards him, he uttered a choking cry: "You too, Sally? My gosh, they must have found out!" i
"They did indeed, young man," Dorothea Bunson sternly interrupted as she turned around the corner behind him and came towards the two blushing, sheepish offenders. Their mouths gaped when they both turned to stare at her, for the silver-blonde was clad in a one-piece clinging black kid body sheath, which covered her from the throat down to her loins, the skin-tight, supple, gleaming substance gusseting between her legs exactly like tights. She wore matching elbow-length gloves and knee-length boots, and between her gloved hands she gripped a flexible black leather riding crop with an oval-shaped flap at the end.
Without a word to either of them, apart from her perfectly timed interjection, she took a key she had in her left hand and opened the door to the testing room, then silently motioned for both Bob and Sally to enter.
Both teenagers gulped and glanced back over their shoulders at the leather-clad dominatress, for Dorothea Bunson looked far more imperious and menacing-as well as voluptuously exciting than her comparative youth might have otherwise suggested. Of medium height, with splendid, closely spaced high-perched round tits and a plump round bottom to match, she was desired by all three male instructors on Madam Helga's staff, but rarely allowed anyone of them to fuck her unless he would agree to doing it her way. That, as young Robert TurnbuU had already discovered, implied submitting to subjugation from her whip and also humbly gamming her after proclaiming her superiority to the male. Only when she had given her male partner a sound whipping and obtained ritualistic homage from him, such as licking her boots as well as her tasty cunt, would Dorothea Bunson deign to let a man's prick enter her tight, hot cunt.
The testing room had been equipped especially for this extraordinary punishment session, for this was what it was intended to be. Apart from the rubber sheets on the floor on which the naked young lovers were instructed to roll and twist in full and uninhibited lust once they had overcome their shyness during their first fucking bout, and also apart from the low wide couch at the side of the wall near the door, Dorothea Bunson had had installed a tall metal triangle, in the shape of an isosceles, with a heavy base to support the weight of both naughty culprits. There was also a low pillory, which compelled the victim to bend his or her head and extend his or her wrist into the three holes of the top yoke piece so he or she would be bowed down to about waist level, thus thrusting out the naked bottom defensely for the caresses of Dorothea Bunson's riding crop or hairbrush or gloved hand or whatever other implement she might prefer. Finally, there was a low wooden sawhorse, with buckling straps attached at both ends to bind the victim's wrists and ankles, and a broad strap around the middle of the device which went around the waist and thus to render the culprit quite immobile.
With a smile of anticipation, the perverse silver-blonde instructress locked the door behind her and then peremptorily commanded, "Now then, both of you, strip naked!"
Bob Salisbury glanced ardently at blushing dark brown-haired Sally Avery, and his heart began to beat wildly. He had been in this testing room some weeks ago to lose his male virginity, and so he naturally believed this was to be a kind of repeat performance. And since it involved the delicious girl whose tight warm cunt he had already explored without permission and found so exciting to his eager and virile young prick, he was already beginning to get a hard-on at the thought of being again tightly lodged between Sally's long sleek milky thighs.
A mocking little smile flitted over Dorothea Bunson's lips, for she, too, comprehended exactly what the youth must be thinking. Glancing at Sally and seeing how the latter was blushing and beginning rather embarrassedly to take off her blouse and skirt, the smile deepened because it was the silver-blonde's penchant to have her victims lulled into the belief that they were going to have nothing but pleasure. Her own pussy was twitching and moistening at the very thought of having both these handsome teenagers at her own lustful disposal. Oh yes, in due time they would have pleasure once they had been punished for breaking the rules of Danielson House, but most of all they would procure an intense gratification for her.
When Sally at last slid down her little panties and stepped out of them, then modestly put one hand over the extremely thick dark brown fleece of her cunt hair as she straightened, Dorothea Bunson snapped, "It's a little late for modesty, don't you think, Sally? Everybody in the school knows how you and Bob got together in Bob's room the other night."
"Oh no!" Sally groaned, clapping her other hand to her mouth and looking really scared this time.
"Oh yes, young lady," Dorothea Bunson grimly countered. "Not only that, Madame Helga saw both of you in your shameless naughtiness. It was she who decided you should both be punished. Understand, both of you, we believe in normal and healthy sexual expression at this school, but that's not to say anyone of you has the right to sneak off and experiment on your own. If either of you had had the good sense to mention to your instructor, you, Bob to Mr. Granger, and you, Sally, to me, it probably could have been arranged, because otherwise your conduct has been quite good. So you may both prepare yourselves for a very long and serious punishment. Now then, come kneel down before me, your hands clasped behind your backs."
Both naked and trembling culprits hesitantly approached and obeyed, and Dorothea Bunson's eyes blazed at the sight of Bob Salisbury's stiff bobbing prick, for the youth could not hide his excitement at seeing his beautiful sweetheart naked except for her black silk stockings and pumps.
Swiftly now the instructress blindfolded them with black cotton bandannas, knotting them tightly at the back of their heads and making certain that they could not see once the blindfolds had been applied.
"And now," Dorothea Bunson sensually purred, "suppose we put you two lovebirds in captivity." With this, she took Bob Salisbury by the hand and led him over to the triangle, then ordered him to reach his arms high over his head, warning him that the least disobedience would earn him extra punishment. Her eyes devoured his sturdy young male nakedness, and as he stood almost on tiptoe in front of the metal triangle, his stiff young prick thrust out violently. Dorothea's gloved hand slyly caressed it for a moment and as the youth groaned and momentarily lowered his hands, she snapped, "Keep your arms up where they belong, or I'll really punish you!"
He obeyed, groaning again but this time not entirely with tormented pleasure; she had pinched the sensitive tip of his cock between gloved thumb and forefinger.
"That will serve as a warning, Bob," she announced. Then, mounting a footstool which was placed beside the triangle, she proceeded to tie his wrists together with felt cord-which would leave no chafing marks-to the peak of the metal device, thus forcing him to stand on tiptoe.
Descending from the footstool, she now made his ankles fast to the widely spread legs at the base, using the same sort of soft-surfaced cord. Then, stepping back to contemplate her handy work, she smiled again with pleasure at the sight of his vigorous young naked body and the hugely turgid spear obscenely sticking out as if ready for servicing.
It would not be lovely Sally Avery whose pussy would receive the brunt of that weapon tonight, Dorothea Bunson had already decided. Now she took charge of the blindfolded girl and led her to the triangle also. However, she made Sally stand with her back to her young lover, and proceeded to tie the girl's wrists to the top of the triangle and her ankles to the widely spread base as she had done with Bob. When this was done, Sally Avery gasped and squirmed uneasily, for against the velvety, deliciously rounded cheeks of her naked ass she could feel the prodding of her lover's agitated prick-a torment for him also.
Drawing the footstool up in front of Sally, Dorothea seated herself at her leisure and reached down to the floor for a teakwood coffer. Opening it, she drew out a long white heron's feather, and she began immediately to glide it first against each of Sally's pantingly heaving tits and then descend it towards the girl's belly-button, which she rubbed delicately and lingeringly until the naked culprit began to gasp and tug at her bound wrists above her head. The girl's convulsive gyrations served to chafe Bob Salisbury's agonized prick back and forth against the shadowy furrow between her ass-cheeks, a fact of which the youth was distractedly conscious.
Indeed, he began to mumble words of apology to his young sweetheart. "Sally ... I can't help it ... I'm tied up this way ... please don't move around like that! I'll go off ... I don't want to do it ... you're so beautiful. Oh, please don't wriggle around like that, you're driving me crazy!"
But Dorothea Bunson had heard the youth's plea, and she stopped feathering the trembling, naked captive. Reaching down to the coffer again, she took out a curious little metal device and then moved between the trembling, naked young lovers. A moment later, Bob uttered a cry of pain: the silver-blonde instructress had fixed this curious metal cap right over the tip of his prick and, pressing the rims, forced it to tighten right into the sensitive circumcisional groove.
"That, I think, will keep you from embarrassing dear little Sally when she begins to rub her sweet behind against that wicked cock of yours, young man," she mockingly informed the agitated youth.
The cold metal cap nuzzled Sally's anal crack, and the blindfolded young girl instinctively arched herself forward to escape its cold and indecent pressure against her tender cleft. The pose was salacious to extreme. Sally thus thrust out in the most wanton way imaginable the thickly fleeced aperture of her soft young cunt, while her superb boobs tautened and appeared to be made of white marble, tipped with darkening coral buds amid wide, paler centers.
Resuming her seat on the footstool, Dorothea Bunson took the feather up again and began to tickle her lovely pupil. Once again the very tip of the delicate feather rasped back and forth in the girl's navel, and then abruptly swept down her lower abdomen to touch the pouting pink lips of her gaping cunt. The huge straddling of both victims' legs, due to the formation of the metal punishment triangle, thus gave Dorothea Bunson unimpaired access to the most intimate parts of their young naked bodies.
Just about the time Dorothea Bunson was completing the fettering of Sally and Bob for their erotic punishment, Myra Castlebar was startled to hear the phone ring in her room. When she answered it, it was the vibrant voice of Madame Helga. "Myra dear, I'm sorry to disturb you, but I wonder if you can do me a favor?"
"Of course, Madame Helga."
"Good! I've prepared a new rulebook about the school, and galley proofs have just come in from the printer. I'd like very much if you would take the galleys and read them carefully just to see if there are any glaring errors. Also, it will help familiarize you with the scope and aims of the school. Could you come to my apartment now and get them? I'd like you to take them to a soundproofed room where you will be quite undisturbed and where you will be able to concentrate fully."
"Why, of course, I'll come right away, Madame Helga," Myra Castlebar exclaimed.
She had worn a lovely yellow cotton print dress, for the weather continued warm and even sultry. Her charcoal-brown nylons and her matching brown suede pumps with modest two-inch heels made her exceptionally alluring. With her black hair and the soft yellow tone of the dress, her creamy skin was set into mouthwatering relief.
When she arrived at the apartment of the dominatress, the latter met her at the door, wearing a belted silver lame hostess gown, with open-toe high-heeled pumps. There emanated from her a singular and troubling aura of sensuality, but there was nothing in her radiant smile or pleasant greeting to the startled young instructress to indicate she had anything else on her mind besides the errand for which she had called Myra.
"Here is the key to Room 42D," she concluded as she handed Myra the large manila envelope containing the proofs, and a silver key. "It will be very quiet there, and I'd like you to spend at least half an hour or perhaps an hour, and then come back to my apartment and tell me what you think of my explanations. I want them to be clear enough for all the students just as well as all the teachers to understand them without any doubt."
"I'll be happy to do that for you, Madame Helga."
"You're a very sweet girl, Myra. Do you like it here?"
Myra Castlebar hesitated, frowning imperceptibly, but the astute, honey-haired Amazon discerned this momentary hesitation and marked it down for future reference. "It ... it's a very unusual place, Madame Helga. My pupils seem to be very intelligent, maybe more so than would be found in public schools, and yet they have personalities I can't quite get used to."
"I have no doubt that you are referring to Melita, that pretty little charmer whose delightful bottom you warmed last week," Helga Danielson wryly interposed.
Myra's cheeks colored hotly as she strove to change the subject: "N-no, it wasn't that, not exactly that. Although I still can't get used to the idea that pupils in the school can be subject to physical punishment like that."
"As I told you before, my dear," the dominatress patiently declared, "before any of my pupils are entered here, I see to it that I have letters of authorization from their parents or relatives who are sophisticated enough to understand that there are times when a good spanking is the very best possible and, indeed, the only proper punishment for certain occasions. But at any rate, you do like your work."
"Oh yes!"
"Yes, I have heard from several of your pupils, or at least those whom you took over from Jennifer; they like you very much. Well, I am pleased with you, Myra. Now if you will, go do that proofreading job for me and give me your very first impressions as soon as you have read enough. The rest of it can be done over the weekend, if you have nothing else pressing."
"Why, I have nothing at all to do tomorrow and Sunday, Madame Helga."
"That's right, I was forgetting, you don't have a boyfriend or sweetheart," the dominatress could not help slyly interjecting, and was rewarded by seeing Myra's cheeks burn a bright red at this highly suggestive jibe.
Somewhat in a state of confusion, though pleased her work had met with the directress' approval, Myra Castlebar bade her superior goodnight and then went down the stairs and walked into the adjoining building of the quadrangle to find the room where she would do her proofreading. Of course she had no way of knowing that it was exactly the same room in which Murray Bannister had so recently watched Brandon and Maxine being initiated into the art of fucking by Homer Granger.
She unlocked the door, closed it again, and sat down on the couch and opened the envelope to take out the galley proofs. Then, taking the first long sheet, she took a ballpoint pen out of the hip pocket of the pretty yellow cotton print dress and began to read.
A few minutes later, noiselessly, the panel slid back to reveal the one-way glass section, which had served Murray Bannister so well in his role of peeping Tom. At the same time the high-fidelity audio system connected with the adjoining room was turned on, and Myra Castlebar suddenly stopped, transfixed, her ballpoint poised above the bottom of that first sheet where she had found an error in punctuation as she heard Sally Avery suddenly squeal plaintively, "Ohhh, oh please, Miss Bunson, don't tickle me there, oh please, I can't stand it!"
For Dorothea Bunson, at her ease on the footstool which was placed in front of the blindfolded, naked and straddled culprit, had resumed the feather frigging, and the tip of the white heron's plume had begun to brush the twitching, crinkling lips of Sally's no longer virgin vulva.
Frantic with confusion and shame as well as with the myriad sensations which had begun to pervade her ardent young loins, Sally began to squirm and jerk, trying to press herself backwards away from the diabolical feather. But in so doing, of course, she forced Bob Salisbury to press his metal-capped prick suggestively and painfully against the shadowy groove which separated her milky ass-cheeks, so he was very nearly able to press himself onward into the dainty petals of her still virgin ass-hole.
Discovering this disconcerting state of affairs, Sally uttered another squeal and arched herself forward to escape the menace behind her. She was, however, between Scylla and Charybdis, for the silver-blonde dominatress intensified the stroking of those soft pink cuntlips with the edges of the downy soft feather. The evanescent caress began to send warm waves of voluptuous awakenings through Sally's nervous system, while her magnificent boobs had begun to rise and fall with an agitated turbulence that evidenced her emotional arousal.
Myra Castlebar had been sitting sideways on the comfortable couch, bent over the proofs in a studious attitude when these first lascivious sounds came to her ears. Turning her head, she uttered a strangled cry of disbelief. There, before her, as clearly as if she had been in the next room with the trio, she beheld the metal triangle with the naked youth tied to it, his wrists high above his head, his back to her, and she saw also Dorothea Bunson seated on the footstool to one side of naked Sally Avery, busily engaged in twirling the feather here and there over the girl's mossy slit. By way of capricious variation, she now lifted the feather and began to caress the inner curves of Sally's panting tits, while the young beauty, thus beleaguered, turned her blindfolded face from side to side, contorted and flushed as ah the stimuli to her most sensitive parts began to have their salacious way with her and to destroy her demure and nominally chaste nature.
"Ohhh ... please ... oh, Miss Bunson, I beg of you ... oh, don't do that! Oh, I can't stand all that awful tickling. Please, and it hurts my behind ... please, if you have to punish me, please, won't you spank me and get it over with? Oh, I beg of you ... ahhhh ... please!"
Myra Castlebar shuddered as these gasped-out, almost inarticulate words came clearly to her, and her eyes were huge and fascinatedly fixed on the scene beyond. She could see the youth's sturdy naked body, his muscles rippling and surging along back and shoulders and thighs and calves, for the traction of his wrist bonds to the metal peak of the triangle and the exaggerated straddling of his legs accentuated the discomfort of his pose, its obscenity and its extreme vulnerability to the devious and ingenious dominatory methods of Dorothea Bunson.
"So, you naughty girl, you would rather be spanked than tickled?" Dorothea gurgled, her eyes shining with perverse delight as she again lowered the feather to the gaping cunthole of the distraught milky-skinned, blindfolded culprit. "Well, Sally dear, the prime consideration of a punishment is that the naughty girl or boy enduring it not be given what she or he would much rather enjoy, so I'm afraid you'll just have to put up with being tickled until I decide otherwise."
"Ohh, lord," Sally Avery groaned, restlessly turning her flushed, tear-stained face this way and that, as she dragged helplessly at her wrist bonds.
These gyrations, of course, only served to jut out the splendid goblets of her tits and to make the muscles of her inner thighs and calves ripple and jerk with a fascinating choreography all their lascivious own. Now the feather tip delicately touched the dainty little nook above Sally's pouting lips, seeking and finding the girl's sensitive clit, and a long sobbing "Ohh, not there, oh, please not there!" broke from the victim.
The galley proofs had dropped from Myra's nerveless hand as she turned to watch this incredible orgiastic tableau before, her. Her bosom, like Sally's, had also begun to rise and fall with an erratic rhythm. Her dark blue eyes were enormously dilated because she simply could not comprehend what was taking place. It seemed cruel, and yet despite herself, she was held paralyzed as if under a hypnotic spell.
Her eyes narrowed, leaning forward intently to study the erogenous area selected for the continuation of Sally's punishment, Dorothea Bunson continued to stroke the cowl which was the clit's sweet hiding place, until at last, exacerbated and swollen by all the titillations, the dainty miniscule prick-simulacrum by which every female symbolically imitates the male, appeared, stiffened and throbbed with neural excitation.
"Ohhh ... ahhhhh ... oh, don't! Oh, I beg of you, oh please, Miss Bunson, spank me, punish me but not this, not like this! Oh, I'm so ashamed ... ooooh, ahhhh ... I can't stand it ... I just can't!" the naked girl wailed as she tried to jerk her hips from side to side to avoid the maddening friction of the feather.
And then, abruptly, Dorothea Bunson halted the sweet torment of Sally's exquisite cunthole. Bending to the teakwood coffer once again, she drew out a short-handled, oval-shaped leather paddle, very much like a ping-pong paddle, and moved behind the shuddering Bob Salisbury. Standing sideways to him at his left, she reached out with her gloved left hand to take hold of his still turgid prick, and her thumb and forefinger began to apply quick little pinches to the base of the shaft and the scrotum, while with her right hand she applied the paddle smartly to each cheek of his naked ass.
Startled gasps, then groans, then frantic wrigglings attested to Bob's discomfort from the very start. But the metal cap which clenched against the sensitive glans of his stalwart young cock continued to prod poor Sally's anal crease with more and more determined vigor, causing the naked, blindfolded culprit to lunge herself madly forward and to twist this way and that to avoid the immodest digging of that cold metal object against the puckering lips of her maiden ass-hole.
Dorothea Bunson did not spank swiftly, for each stinging and noisily administered stroke of the small, pliant leather paddle intoned crisply against the base and the summits of Bob's muscular bottom cheeks at intervals of about twenty-five seconds. The accumulative sting and smarting soon began to draw tears to his eyes, and to produce convulsive surgings and jerking of his tethered and straddled body on the triangle, ah this of course continued the assault against Sally's milky, delectably rounded bottom globes and particularly the shadowy crease which separated them and led to her second orifice of sexual pleasure.
But it was the dominatress' sly and continued pinches against his aching and frantically turgid cockshaft which most disconcerted the handsome naked youth, till in a low, almost sobbing voice he begged Dorothea Bunson to whip him as he deserved, but at least to spare him this.
"So, you don't like to have your cock played with, and I suppose that's because Sally isn't doing it," Dorothea Bunson loudly retorted, drawing a frantic gasp of shame from poor naked Sally as well as a groan of utter dismay from the crushed youth. "This is ah meant to teach you that you are not to pair off like a couple of rutting young animals just because you have the urge. Maybe the next time you'll ask permission of your instructor as I know Sally is going to ask of me-and maybe both of us will decide that the two of you need other partners, as a continued part of punishment for your naughtiness. There, your bottom is getting very red, Bob, but don't worry, your sweet little darling Sally will have her proper share before the two of you leave here, I promise you!"
Now, with a final flurry of about twelve good hard swats ah over his flaming bottom, Dorothea Bunson drew the youth to tearful, almost childish cries and sobs as he lunged and twisted madly to escape the burning sting of the leather paddle. All the while, she kept pinching his aching prick with tiny compressions of her slim gloved fingers so as to prevent his achieving the comparative release of gushing come.
Myra still sat dazed and incredulous in the watching room, her eyes glued to the glass panel before her. Her face was scarlet, her tits rose and fell with violent exuberance, and her throat was dry. She could not turn her eyes away as she watched the youth's solid, vigorous bottom cheeks turn an angry red, watched his convulsive jerking this way and that against the frame of the triangle, and heard Sally's plaintive cries as the metal cap pinched the head of his prick and so irritatingly kept prodding against her soft bottom cheeks and the even more inviting groove which separated them.
Desisting now from the spanking of the youth, Dorothea Bunson put the paddle back into the coffer and then began to untie Sally's ankles, and then her wrists. But before the naked beauty could express any thanks for this seeming release from punishment, the dominatress grasped the girl's earlobe, and, as if she were a naughty child, led her forward to the pillory, her gloved palm spanking Sally's milky round ass-cheeks smartly to encourage her to hurry forward to her next turn of torment.
A few moments later, Sally Avery found herself bent forward from the waist, her boobs dangling lasciviously, her wrists and neck captured in the yoke holds, and, worst of all, her white-skinned bottom cheeks thrust out in the most tempting pose that a flagellant could ask for.
Sally began to squirm uneasily, suspecting she was in for a sound spanking, and the contractions of her bottom muscles made these satiny hemispheres seem even more erotically active, as they would be in the act of fucking. No doubt the charming girl would have infinitely preferred that to the humiliation of a spanking, especially knowing her lover was present to observe, by ear if not by sight.
But Dorothea Bunson had other ideas. Now she deftly unlocked the metal cap which had been clinging so tenaciously to Bob Salisbury's prick, moved up to face him, and with her left hand took hold of a tiny silver zipper sewn into the crotch of her body sheath and dragged it down to expose the petulant pink lips of her cunt.
Then, moving even closer to the trembling, naked youth, she dug her gloved fingers into his scarlet bottom cheeks, while she arched herself so she could feel his still stiff cockhead prod against her quim. Bob groaned with discomfort as her gloved fingers squeezed and dug and pinched, and then he groaned even more loudly when he felt himself sucked into Dorothea Bunson's tight cunthole. With a sigh of delight, the instructress thrust herself still further forward, absorbing at least part of his ramrod along the warm, narrow channel of her cunt, and he could feel the sudden spasmodic fluttering of her cuntwalls.
"Ohh ... what is it ... is that you, Sally?" he gasped.
"No, I'm sorry to disappoint you, it's not your little sweetheart," Dorothea Bunson hissed. "Now pay attention if you don't want me to take my riding crop to that bottom of yours, young man. And kiss me and use your tongue inside my mouth. If you work me up to a nice hot come, maybe I'll let you finish this session with your sweetheart after all."
Myra's mouth dropped open as she saw and heard this wanton proposal of seduction by her academic colleague. By now, shifting on the couch as she had done, her skirt had racked up almost to the tops of her charcoal-brown stockings, and just a glimpse of the creamy skin of one lovely thigh was visible. Also, she had put her left hand over her heart, and she could feel the heaving of her tit as she watched absorbingly, still hypnotized by what was taking place in that room just beyond her.
Dorothea Bunson's mouth merged with Bob Salisbury's, while at the same time she thrust herself a last time forward, till she had taken every inch of prick the young man had to offer deep inside her torrid cunthole. With a moan of pleasure, she remained in this tight cohesion with him, her gloved fingers still kneading, pinching and prodding his inflamed bare ass.
Dutifully, the youth open his mouth and thrust his tongue between her lips. Another moan of pleasure exuded from the dominatress, and then, luxuriating in the sensation of clamping his throbbing prick along the tight canal of her pussy, she locked her arms around his waist and forced her mouth against his. His tongue thrust back and forth between her parted lips, and Dorothea Bunson exhilarated in the joy of what she whimsically liked to call "a command fucking under duress." It pleased her, also, to take her pupil's lover from the girl and let the latter be quite aware of what was taking place, for now she turned her head back over her shoulder and called out to Sally Avery, "I have to compliment you on your taste, Sally dear, Bob is really quite a man for his age! My gracious, I've got all of him inside of me. Just think, if you'd only come to me and asked permission, you might be enjoying this right now instead of your own teacher!"
"Ohhh, dear!" Sally sobbed distractedly.
Now, feeling near the pitch of passion, the instructress began to move her loins back and forth, taking the male role in this act of fucking. She hissed to Bob Salisbury, "Don't you dare let it slip out, or I'll really take the hide off you!"
Myra Castlebar did not know it, but her right hand had crept down to her gaping thighs, slid under her racked-up skirt, and now her slim fingers were touching her own pussy through the white nylon panties which snugged against her virgin cunthole.
And what she had no way of knowing was that in her office at this very moment, Madame Helga, seated before the closed-circuit TV set, was watching her newest instructress, her lips curved in a knowing smile. Decidedly, Myra Castlebar's innocence was being exquisitely corrupted to the point of weakening.
Seated on the couch near the Amazonian head of this singular boarding school, were none other than Murray Bannister and his lovely blonde niece, who now exchanged a look of conspiratorial enjoyment in having thus been able to eavesdrop on the supposedly impeccably virtuous black-haired young woman who had once been Carol's tutoress.
"Unkie Murray, do you see what that naughty Myra is doing right now?" Carol broke the rapt silence with a hurriedly whispered, giggling question.
"I do indeed, baby. And what a surprise it will be for her when she learns that both of us know about it, eh? Now keep still and let's listen. What's going on in the room just beyond is just as exciting ... may we have it again please, Madame Helga?"
"Certainly." The dominatress put her hand to the switch of the set and turned it to another channel, and once again the testing room was portrayed in graphic detail on the large wide screen. By now, Dorothea Bunson was reaching her climax, and the jerking and twisting of her hips indicated that she was accelerating the tempo of impaling herself on Bob Salisbury's tortured young prick so as to achieve this rapturous fulfillment. A hoarse cry from her announced the blissful moment, she sagged against the naked youth, clutching him tightly with her arms, her head bowed as her body shook with the tremors of a fiery come.
After a few moments, she languidly moved back, and his prick bobbed free into the air. Despite her own climax, he had not been able to achieve his own release, thanks to the ingenious device of the metal prick-cap ... for the tiny points which served as clamps into the sensitive flesh of the glans had been coated with a special drug furnished by Dr. Penelope Fielding, a kind of anesthetic which had the effect of prolonging the hard-on and providing at the same time a deterrent to hasty ejaculation. Indeed, this very drug was offered by several novelty manufacturers as a sex aid to men who were afraid of shooting off too quickly once their cocks were imbedded in the warm, tight love canals of their fucking partners.
Dorothea paused long enough to enjoy a cigarette, leaving Bob Salisbury still groaning and squirming, his cock jiggling with every maneuver he made against the triangle, while Sally Avery's anxiety and suspense continued to mount. Slowly Dorothea Bunson drew off her gloves, and then approached the naked captive. Putting her left forefinger directly against Sally's dainty clit, she began to frig the dark brown-haired young beauty, while with her right palm she regaled the tempting curves of those milky ass-cheeks which could not possibly evade this childish, humiliating and not really painful spanking.
But the frigging of Sally's clit together with the smarting warmth imparted by the instructress' palm began to create in Sally Avery's loins a frantic need for solace. "Ohhh ... ahhh ... oh, please, please, don't tickle me there! Oh, I can't stand it! I'll come ... oh, I'm going to come, I know I am ... ooooh ... ahhhhh ... ouch ... that stings, oooooh!" she wailed as her hips twisted this way and that, trying always to evade the repeated sting of Dorothea Bunson's bare palm.
A rosy glow suffused the milky-sheened hemispheres of Sally's lovely ass, and the girl's face was now equally reddened with her own blushes of shame as she understood what was happening to her. Her teeth had begun to chatter as the warm waves of lust seethed in her wakened pussy.
Then, as quickly as she had begun, Dorothea Bunson stepped back and left her pupil writhing and groaning, midway between heaven and hell, near to come and yet unable to achieve its gratification.
Sally began to whimper and to twist and squirm, as if she were begging for a stiff prick to thrust deep into her itching cunny and relieve the torments accumulating in that tight grotto. The silver-blonde moved back to her, then bent to whisper in the girl's ear. Sally uttered a stifled little cry, then nodded her head.
Quickly Dorothea Bunson unlocked the pillory, and then, once again taking charge of her pupil by the earlobe gripped firmly between right thumb and forefinger, ordered the naked Sally to kneel down. A moment later, Dorothea Bunson moved forward, pressing her loins against the girl's trembling mouth. Her pussy was exposed, thanks to the opening of the zipped cleft of the body sheath, and Sally promptly began to suck and kiss and lick her instructress' cunthole. Dorothea's hands now cupped the flushed, tear-stained cheeks of her naked pupil, her head tilting back and her eyes closing as she surrendered herself to this final goading which would plunge her over the edge of the abyss into the sweet oblivion of hot pussy come. A few moments later, her sobbing gasp of joy attested to Sally's homage.
She moved away, once again lit a cigarette, and then grinned at the teenaged couple. "Well, if you both promise never again to break our rules, I might just leave you here for a little while before you have to go back to your rooms and to bed," she blithely announced.
"Oh yes, Miss Bunson, we'll be good, we won't ever do it again, not without permission," Sally Avery exclaimed in an almost hysterical gratitude.
"I promise too, Miss Bunson," Bob Salisbury's voice was hoarse and shaking.
The instructress released the youth from the triangle, and then removed his blindfold, and then removed Sally's. She nodded encouragingly, and Bob Salisbury, with a cry of joy, sprang forward and bent to lift Sally to her feet, his hands digging into her soft, moist armpits. Their lips crushed together, and Sally gladly forced her tongue between his eagerly opened mouth. His hands now began to explore the sweet curves of her ass and thighs, while the panting, naked beauty seized his prickhead with her right thumb and forefinger and, opening the lips of her eager slit with the fingers of her other hand, introduced him well into her cleft. Then they began to fuck, murmuring endearments and inarticulate cries and gasps of pleasure as they finally achieved the reward Dorothea Bunson had promised.
And in the next room, Myra Castlebar, her eyes huge and humid, was rubbing her forefinger frantically into the soft moistening crevice of her cunt through her panties, trying swiftly to bring herself to climax as the result of the lascivious erotic sensations which watching this scene had so overwhelmingly engendered in her virginal but mature and yearning flesh.