Chapter
4
The Master's Hand
The dating game -- the
bane of every teenaged girl. There were girls who did it, and there
were girls who didn't, and then there was Judy and I.
Judy and I never believed
in the "if you love me, prove it" thing. We soon discovered that
what boys wanted wasn't love, it was sex, and that for most boys
in their mid- to latter-teens, the two were separate. As long as
they got it off, they really didn't care if they made love or not.
Having a girl involved only validated the "score."
It was a warm autumn
afternoon in our junior year as Judy and I walked back from school.
"I've heard that men think with their dicks," Judy observed, "If
that's so, then what do girls think with? Look around. We know who's
doing 'it' and with whom. We know who goes down, and who gives head.
And so do the boys."
"Yeah," I agreed, "It
would be nice to get invited to some of the neat parties and be
seen with some cool guys at the big events, but I'm not going to
sell out like the other girls." Judy was the only one with whom
I could share my sentiments on the subject.
Judy continued, "I wonder
if there's a way we could use what we learned with Ken on other
boys. I mean, he seemed to like it. If boys get it off when they're
with us, then maybe they would like to keep coming back to us."
The idea struck home.
We made plans to get invited to a drive-in by a pair of boys that
Saturday night. They were kind of nerdy, and we figured them to
be virgins themselves even though they were 16 like us. We had to
start somewhere, and get our reputation going somehow.
We let the movie get
started, and we let the boys get us some refreshments -- so much
for the first 20 minutes. Soon we were all making out in our respective
seats. My date and I were up front. Judy and her date were in the
back. Within 10 minutes we had the boys going. I reached down and
touched my date's crotch. I could feel the lump there. I looked
back at Judy, she gave me a wink and "OK" signal.
The boys tried to feel
us up, but we'd have none of that. Finally, I broke my embrace with
my date, Judy did the same with hers. "Look," I said, "We know what
you boys are here for. We are not that kind of girls." I could see
the disappointment in my date's face. "But", (his face brightened),
"We sympathize with you. You have hot cocks, and you need to get
them off. Am I right?" The boys mouths dropped open in the face
of such honest talk. "What we can do for you is give you a hand
job."
Judy's date objected,
"Hey, I can give myself one of those."
Judy put her hand against
his face, turned it so he had to look her in the eyes and said,
"Not like this, you haven't. Trust us. You can go home with blue
balls, or we can take care of you. Now, are you boys going to trust
us?"
They agreed to our conditions.
We had them pull down their pants and shorts to their knees and
sit there as Judy pulled out a couple of bathing caps from the luggage
she called a purse. One of the boys objected, "What are you going
to do with those things?"
"You don't want us to
get your car messy, now. Would you?" I purred.
Once we got started,
they certainly didn't have any objections. I put my cap over my
date's rigid pole and started to manipulate it. He shot off in less
than a minute. The boy in the back did no better and was even noisier
about it than my date.
"Now pull up your pants
like good little boys and wash these things out for us," I said
tossing my cap to my date.
"Where?" he objected.
"They have a men's room
here, don't they. I don't care who sees you or what you tell them."
They took the caps,
put them into a empty popcorn bag and went off.
Judy and I giggled.
"Girl, that was wonderful. I didn't think it would be that easy.",
I said.
Judy agreed, "It didn't
take them long to whip it out for us, and then come. I hardly had
to pump at all. Mine lost total control of himself."
"Mine too," I agreed,
"I think I had him in the palm of my hand, so to speak, as soon
as I got the cap on him."
The boys returned. We
petted some more and did the bathing cap thing one more time. We
made them wash them out again, and went home.
Judy and I had one more
date like this with another set of boys before boys started coming
to us. The rules were, the boys behaved themselves, and did whatever
we told them. There would be absolutely no sex. The boys were responsible
for cleaning up their own mess, and Judy and I always worked as
a team to keep things from getting out of hand.
By the time basketball
season rolled around, Judy and I had established our reputations.
Yet we were a little surprised to be invited to a private party
given by select members of the basketball team. This was major league
stuff.
It was a well-know secret
that if you wanted to have an on-campus party, you went to the "boiler
room". The "boiler room" was a small brick building off to an obscure
corner of the school grounds. It used to contain the boiler before
they remodeled the school. Now it was empty except as a storage
area for some old furniture. The building was enclosed in a fence,
and hidden by tall bushes. It was a very private place to have a
party -- if you could break in past several locks. Because of these
locks, hardly anybody ever checked the place.
The security measures
didn't stop Jay. Somehow, he managed to get the keys. The party
was set for Friday afternoon. Jay met us by our lockers and escorted
us to the shack. We were let in. Jay introduced us to the other
two boys, Jim, and Carl. One of them had a tape deck going with
some good music. Judy and I were offered a beer. There was a six
pack being passed around. We danced a while, to break the ice. It
felt really nice to have a big guy really squeeze me tight on a
slow dance for a change.
Finally, Jay had enough
courage to ask, "So what do you girls do?"
I grinned back, "We
do it all."
Soon Judy and I had
three athletic jocks naked before us, each with a straining prick
for us to play with. I looked over at her. She winked and we went
to work. We used our gloves, rubber balls, bathing caps, and several
different versions of sneakering. By the time we were done we had
to watch where we stepped, there was come all over the floor in
pools everywhere. We must have done each guy three times. I was
getting giddy from both the sexual excitement and the beer.
The door burst open.
It was Mr. Larson, the vice principal. Time froze.
I expected the inevitable,
"What's going on here?" from him. Instead he got directly down to
business. "You boys, get dressed, and leave. I'll deal with you
Monday. And place the key right here," he said, indicating the palm
of his hand. "You girls remain right here, I have some questions
for you."
We waited in silence
until we heard the last of the boys' cars depart. "I've been hearing
some rumors about you girls over the course of the last couple of
weeks," Mr. Larson began. "It appears that you've suddenly become
quite popular with the boys. Hence, I've kept my eye on you. When
I saw you coming over here, my suspicions became aroused and I deemed
it necessary to investigate further."
"I think I should let
you know I caught your entire act. I even have the video tape to
prove it. I know I've missed some of the activity when I went to
get the camera from the car, but I caught a sufficient amount from
the point where you convinced the boys to drop their pants for you."
"And now," he relished,
"what are we to do about it? I've absolutely no problem expelling
you, but then I'd have to do the same thing to the boys. The school
can ill afford to be without several key starters on the team. Think
about that -- you don't want to be known as the little bitches that
lead to the expulsion of the school's star players. Word will get
out, I assure you. It always does in cases like this."
"Think about your futures
as well. I checked your grades. Both of you are good students and
I think each of you could have a go at college. You don't want to
give that up, do you?"
"Yet, discipline must
be maintained. I think we can reach an accommodation. You must be
punished, but only you and I need to know about it."
He stood up. Judy and
I both noticed the bulge in front of his pants. What sent shivers
down each of our spines was the slow and sensuous way he removed
his belt. Could this be a prelude to his disrobing for sex? That
though quickly left as I realized that he'd simply undo the belt
and drop his pants if that were his immediate intention.
"I know it's cold in
here," he laughed, "especially in light of what was just going on
here. But, you girls have to get undressed for this spanking to
be administered properly. I'm sorry, it simply must be done. I can't
trust you to do it in proper fashion, so stand still, and I'll do
it."
He directed two places
on the floor in front of the couch where he wanted Judy and I to
stand. "Don't move," he admonished us.
He circled us once,
drinking in our young figures with his eyes. He stopped behind me
and undid the button on my skirt. He slid the zipper down slowly
as he seductively stroked my ass at the same time. He stood back,
and my skirt fell to the floor.
Next, he went behind
Judy. She has an elastic waist on her skirt, so he knelt down on
one knee looped his fingers into her waistband and pulled it down.
When it got below her knees it, too, fell to the floor. Before standing
up, he gave a gentle peck to one of her ass cheeks.
He then sat down in
the couch to admire his work. There we stood at attention, facing
him with our skirts bunched up about our sneakers. "Kick your skirts
lose from about your legs," he ordered. He carefully picked up each
skirt, gently folded it, and placed it in a chair next to him.
He stood up again, walked
up to me and stood about 6 inches in front of my face. I looked
down at his feet in shame. He placed a finger under my chin and
lifted it firmly, but gently until I looked into his eyes. "You're
only getting what you deserve, my dear. Do take your punishment
like a big girl."
Starting at the top,
he unbuttoned my blouse with the most startling patience. I must
have taken him three minutes to get through 5 buttons. He put his
hands under the blouse at my shoulders. Brushing his fingertips
on my shoulders lightly, he lifted the blouse and pushed it back
gently as his fingers caressed the outline of my shoulder blades.
It was a sleeveless blouse, so there was nothing to hold it. Once
again gravity disrobed me.
Judy wore a pullover.
It was almost comical watching her take it off, pulling it over
her head, after the slow and sensuous way he exposed me.
He folded each blouse
carefully and added it to the pile of clothing containing our skirts.
He sat down again to admire us standing there in panties, bras and
sneakers. I was getting goose bumps everywhere, and I wasn't entirely
sure that it was from standing almost naked in a cold room. It was
just as much from standing almost naked under Mr. Larson's cold
stare.
"I don't know why you
did it," he began, "You're pretty enough to get dates without resorting
to, " (he gestured vaguely with his hand), "this. What you did was
very sluttish. Naughty would be too polite a word for what you did.
Perverted, sick, and degenerate are more adequate. Women in the
Old Testament would be stoned to death for doing what you did. Consider
yourself lucky we live in more liberal and enlightened times. You're
going to get your just punishment, because you deserve it, but I
assure you, no permanent damage will be done. You'll walk away much
better girls for it."
Once again he stood
up and walked behind us. This time, he undid my bra hook and ran
his fingers up the strap, caressed my shoulders and followed the
straps to my cup where his fingers gently brushed the tops of my
breasts. He pressed his body against my back and I could feel his
hot breath against my neck as he moved the bra off my shoulders
and down my arms letting it drop at my feet. As I watched to go,
I could see how hard my nipples had gotten.
He moved onto Judy and
did the same to her. I was amazed at how long he took to undress
her. I could have been out of my outfit and into a new one and out
of it again in the time he took to remove just one article of clothing.
Soon our bras were neatly
folded with our other clothes.
"What fine young breasts
you have," he commented from his comfortable position on the couch,
"You never let the boys get to them? Such a pity. Both of you have
very healthy bodies. You should enjoy them more. But we're not here
for that now, are we? There's a punishment to be given, and unfortunately,
you are the punishees. Just one more thing to do before we're ready."
He got down on one knee
in front of me and ran a hand around each hip. His fingers smoothly
glided into my panties at the rear and tenderly grabbed my ass cheeks.
It felt good! He hooked each thumb into the front of my panties.
My skin tingled as he
pulled my silky panties down the long trip of my legs with his palms
almost not touching the flesh on my thighs and calves. "Step back,"
he whispered as he got to my ankles, and I stepped out of my panties.
He leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on my lower lips.
I could heard Judy sigh,
as he performed the identical ritual on her. I had to look when
he whispered, "Step back" to her. I wanted to witness this spectacle
of grace (on his part) and humiliation (on ours)
Soon, the panties joined
our neatly folded bras on the clothing pile on the chair beside
him. He gave us a good long look and smiled, "Yes, this will do.
Physically, you are ready. Please condition yourselves mentally
to accept your punishment. Think about the deeds you've just done.
Would proper young ladies do these things? Look at yourself now
-- standing there wearing almost nothing at all. How shameful! I'm
sure this is not the first thing you have done for which you should
be ashamed. You are dirty girls, and you probably deserve more than
what I'm prepared to give you. But that's not for me to judge right
now. Perhaps we'll delve into these matter at some time in the future.
Now is not the time for discussion. It is time for action."
He stood up and undid
his pants, stepped out of them, folded them and put them on the
chair. "Damn, he's so meticulous," I thought. He did the same with
his shorts. Wow! What a cock he had on him. I wanted to measure
it. It was longer than any of the boys Judy and I have ever seen.
"Now you're ready to
be disciplined like proper little girls. Susan, I will do you first.
Come here and lay over my lap".
I didn't know what to
expect. I hadn't been spanked since that day so long ago with Ken.
How hot my pussy would get just thinking about it!
I started to assume
the position when he corrected me. "Young lady," he said, "I am
left handed. To receive a spanking properly, a girl must put her
ass on the dominant knee of the man spanking her. In this case,
your legs go over my left knee and the trunk of your body will go
over my right knee."
I lay there as instructed
and he moved his hand under my lap, grabbed his penis and placed
it at the opening of my vagina. In the position I was in, there
was no penetration, but I found I could rub myself against it. I
couldn't wait to do it. He obviously noticed as he said, "Comfy,
aren't we? Well, there's nothing wrong with that. You can enjoy
this, you know. Corporal punishment need not be all pain. You can
find pleasure in it."
"And you," he said addressing
Judy, "can have pleasure watching. In fact I wish you to have pleasure
watching. Masturbate while you watch. That's it, use both hands,
if you please."
He let me hump myself
until I was quite wet. I had the same ambiguous feelings as the
last time I got spanked, only more intense. As an 8-year old, I
had a barely developed sense of modesty. I was only a step away
from "show me yours and I'll show you mine". I was even squeamish
about undressing in front of Judy even though we have been doing
so for a variety of non-sexual reasons since we were little girls.
As a little girl, I found touching my clitoris to be pleasurable,
but not explosively so as it was now.
Mr. Larson raised his
hand and brought down his open palm against my raised cheek. It
stung like crazy, and I felt a wash of pleasure radiate directly
from the spot to my clitoris. It was like a stone being tossed into
a pond. The calm surface is interrupted as concentric circles of
waves move outward, diminishing slowly until they lap upon the shore.
His hand was the stone, my ass was the otherwise calm surface of
the pond, and my pubic area was the shore. He was stimulating things
inside my body -- places nobody could reach by any other method.
My juices redoubled their flow. If this was the first stroke, what
would the rest be like?
He gave me more instructions,
"I believe, young lady, that you aren't sorry enough. From now on,
whenever I pinch your ass -- like this (he demonstrated), you are
to affirm your contrition to me." He told me what to say.
Soon I was saying, "I'm
sorry, Mr. Larson. I've been a bad girl. I deserve this. Thank you
for spanking me," on every dozen or so swats. I know I looked vulnerable
with my ass up in the air. I know I looked so submissive laid over
Mr. Larson's lap that way. I know I sounded so insignificant as
I mouthed the magic formula meekly.
Mr. Larson delivered
his strokes with the same methodical slowness that he undressed
us. Every one of them seemed to be aimed at the exact spot on my
ass that needed it next. Every one of them seemed to be timed with
the contractions in my stomach. Not an ounce of effort was wasted.
He knew his business. A corner of my mind wondered how often he
had done this with girls before.
I felt the pressure
building. It was like a dam filled beyond capacity. I felt like
I was leaving my body as endorphins flooded my system. Although
I knew he was spanking me, and I could sort of still feel it, I
felt detached. It was almost like I was above myself watching myself
being spanked.
Then the dam broke.
He pinched me, and I couldn't respond. That seemed to infuriate
him. Like a horse that had been trotting along in a very metered
pace, that suddenly breaks out in a gallop, he laid into me with
a speed and fury I didn't know he had. I was pushed over the top.
The mixture of such
devilish pain, and such divine pleasure was too much for me. Every
synapse in my body, even those in my brain fired simultaneously.
Half my muscles were contracting, the other half were relaxing.
I was surprised I didn't have a bowel movement. I don't know if
I urinated.
About the only control
I had over my body was my mid section which I was now grinding furiously
against his cock. I felt a flush of fluid. I didn't know if it was
his or mine. I was a bitch in heat and had to get my satisfaction.
I would do anything to get it. Mr. Larson's hand assured my total
surrender.
Somewhere along the
way, the horse stopped galloping, and Mr. Larson resumed his measured
paddling. I regained consciousness.
His lap was absolutely
drenched with fluids by the time I made my final "act of contrition".
He stopped suddenly, and I actually felt disappointed. Was this
it? Was it all over? It was great, but I wanted -- no, I needed
-- more.
My ass was so warm.
I could physically feel the heat raising from it. My insides felt
like they were boiling and convulsing. Mr. Larson gently rubbed
his hot hand over the surface of my skin. Every nerve ending responded
with a tingle of its own. I don't know that much about my own female
anatomy, but I'm sure that each of those nerves were attached to
a counterpart in my clitoris. It tingled as well.
I had forgotten the
belt! Mr. Larson reached over to the chair and picked it up. I watched
excitedly as he doubled it over to a "workable" length.
It was a totally different
punishment. His hand slaps were a result of a full arm swing. When
he planted his palm on my ass, he spread the impact over a wide
area. The result was a rushing feeling at the surface of the skin.
It felt like I was sitting on a hot stove. Even during the "rest"
periods between spanks, my skin felt like there was an army of ants
swarming all over it.
The belt, in his hand,
was a weapon specifically designed to make a girl's ass sting. He
had a marvelous wrist action and almost made the short loop crack.
When it hit one of my cheeks, it felt like that point on my ass
was being attacked by a squadron of hornets!
I raced to orgasm. I
was up there experiencing so much pleasure that the pain didn't
mean anything to me. I knew he was hurting me, and I knew he was
humiliating me. I should have felt pain, I should have felt shame.
I did, but my mind interpreted them as something to be desired.
Oddly, I felt content to be draped over his lap. I accepted my role
as his plaything.
Again, I was clearly
conscious of only one thing. I couldn't get enough clitoral stimulation.
I was rubbing against him so hard, I thought I'd start a fire.
As the spanking wound
down, I felt totally drained. I was panting like I had just completed
gym class. My body felt numb except for a burning ass, and a throbbing
clitoris. My clit felt like it was as big as a hot dog, it was so
swollen!
Mr, Larson asked me
to stand, and I had to accept his help doing so. He offered me another
seat and, in my weakened condition, I plopped down. BIG mistake.
It hurt like crazy. Just putting pleasure on my butt was agony.
I slid off the chair, onto my knees and hugged it sobbing with both
pain and happiness.
We all waited in silence
while I recovered enough to stand on my own. Then it was Judy's
turn. I was ordered to stand and watch with both hands up my crotch.
It was an absolute sloppy, sopping mess down there. My fingers found
my blood engorged clit and I was soon pleasuring myself with almost
no effort at all.
It was nothing at all
compared to the orgasms I had at his hand and on his lap, but it
was so easy to do.
I watched as Judy took
her turn, and I couldn't believe I wanted more. I couldn't take
more, but I definitely wanted more.
Watching was almost
as much fun as doing. I adjusted my rubbing to his very rhythmical
spanking. I looked as the white disappeared, handprint by handprint,
from Judy's ass and was replaced with pink. I felt the shame all
over again as I heard her say, "I'm sorry Mr. Larson. I've been
a bad girl. I deserve this. Thank you for spanking me."
He kept slapping her
cheeks until she lost it too. I didn't have to see her wriggling
body to know that she was coming. I could hear it, she was making
noises like an animal. Even Mr. Larson noticed, "Grunting like the
pig you are," he said to her. I could even smell it. The aroma of
sweat and sex was in the background everywhere, but her fresh gush
was the moist poignant.
I saw him pinch her
at her most vulnerable moment when she was unable to respond. I
watched as he doubled his pace, and she lost it. She screamed with
pleasure, and almost rolled herself off his lap trying to hump it.
I was afraid that she might hurt herself thrashing about like that.
Mr. Larson brought her
down slowly until she was merely breathing heavily instead of panting
out of control. I watched as he ran his big hands over her buns.
She sighed and her eyes glazed over almost like she was drunk or
on drugs or something.
Mr. Larson reached for
his belt. I saw how skillfully he flicked it at her behind. It made
the most obnoxious slapping sound as it made contact with her skin.
On the light pink background that was the canvas of her ass, the
grand master of spanking was painting darker, reddish stripes. I
imagine my ass looked the same.
Judy went into the same
kind of frenzy I did during this portion of the spanking. She, too,
had to be helped to her feet. She got up, and staggered over to
me. We hugged, and I held her up. I brushed back her hair and kissed
away her tears. She was sobbing, but she was smiling. "My knees
are so weak," she told me.
Mr. Larson allowed us
to recuperate. Then he explained, "You girls aren't done yet. I
will need your services in the future, and you will be at my call.
This affair is not over. Do I make myself clear?"
We both nodded, "yes".
"Good, in the meantime,
there's just one more thing you girls need to do before we are done
for the day. You must clean up all this mess. Leave your clothes
off until you are done. But, before you do even that ..."
Judy and I started our
cleaning but not until Mr. Larson's own splattering of come joined
those of the other boys.
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