|
Chapter
5
Lord and Lady
I was glad mom wasn't
home when I got there. I went into the bathroom and took a shower.
I certainly needed one. I lathered up and washed the sex and sweat
off my body. I could barely touch my ass. I adjusted the spay until
it was as cool as I could stand it. It felt so good against my butt.
I got out and dried
off being careful to pat my cheeks dry. I found a large zip lock
bag, filled it with ice cubes, wrapped it in a towel, and took it
up to my room. I turned on the TV, laid on my bed on my stomach,
and put the ice pack on my ass. I spent two whole hours like this.
By this time most of the ice was melted, and the fire on my rear
end was quenched somewhat.
Putting my butt on ice
felt so good. I liked the sensation it produced and I considerd
doing it even when I didn't have a spanking to mend. I finally got
up, rubbed some ointment on my cheeks, and put on several pairs
of cotton underwear. I wished they made disposable diapers in my
size!
I was so sore all weekend
long. Judy and I laughed at each other each time we saw the other
sit down and grimace. It wasn't really all that bad. The overall
pinkness was gone the next morning, and the strap marks were nothing
more than a "almost could see" black and blue which was totally
gone by Monday. I dare say, Mr. Larson knew his business!
"Wow," I said to Judy
as we sat on our hard, plastic chairs at the mall on Saturday afternoon,
"That was something and a half. My fire's still smouldering. My
ass still feels warm, and my insides are all jumbly. I know I came
hard yesterday, and I should be worn out, but I had to do it again
last night, and again this morning. It's like he pushed an 'on'
button, and it got stuck. I'm horny even now."
"I know what you mean,"
Judy agreed, "I've had a little 'Yellow Pages' fun myself last night.
It was good, but it will never be as good as when I'm under the
hand of someone like Mr. Larson. I want another spanking even now,
even though my ass is too sore to take it."
-=o=-
Judy and I were reminded
of our obligations to Mr. Larson on Monday when he called us to
his office. "When we last met, I informed you that I will be requiring
your services in the future. Both of you are to come up with a story
to tell your parents concerning an extracurricular activity -- something
that will keep you busy for an hour or so every Tuesday afternoon.
You will start tomorrow. Meet me here at 2:45 sharp!" He left us
standing there as a pause developed, and attended to some paperwork
in front of him.
The silence grew ominous.
The ticking of the clock on his wall became pronounced as it marked
off its metered pace and competed with the random scratches of his
pen on paper. I could feel the sweat trickling down my back. My
God, what power this man had over me! Even doing nothing, he managed
to get me excited. I don't know how long Judy and I stood there.
It seemed like minutes between every tick of that blasted clock.
Mr. Larson looked up, and in the most quiet and unemotional tones
muttered, "Dismissed," sending us on our way with the most casual
wave of back of his hand.
As Judy and I left,
we met Jay, Jim and Carl. They were waiting to see Mr. Larson also.
They seemed no less at ease than we did. Neither of us could look
one another in the eye.
On Tuesday, at 2:45,
Judy and I reported to Mr. Larson's office as ordered. The boys
were already there.
Mr. Larson lined us
up, and paced back and forth in front of us like a drill sergeant.
"You have been the most troublesome bunch," he said, sitting on
his desk and staring us down one at a time.
"The girls," he continued,
"have been taught a sufficient lesson in behaviour, though I dare
say that they need to learn more. You," he said, turning to the
boys, "Have yet to appreciate discipline. Discipline is a part of
atheletics. It is also a part of life.
I know you are still
sweating over the threat of expulsion I made yesterday. That can
still happen. It's up to you. I have an offer. If you accept it,
you can continue in school and continue to play for the team. If
any of you reject it, you are all out. Do I make myself clear? It's
all of you or none."
Mr. Larson dictated
the terms to the boys. He was deliberately being vague. He mentioned
nothing specific about the boys getting bare-assed spankings. If
but Judy and I knew better. We knew what he meant, even if he didn't
say the words. The boys could interpret it any way they wanted.
I swallowed hard. I
was having a hard time believing that he was actually proposing
what he was saying. Mr. Larson let the proposal hang in the air
for several minutes. I could hear the clock tick again. I could
never listen to a clock ever agian without feeling anxiety.
I could see the boys
sweating. I stole a glance at Judy. She had the same look of disbelief
I was probably wearing. I knew how much this meant to both of us.
If the boys accepted Mr. Larson's offer, we'd -- well, it was probably
more exciting than I could imagine.
"What will it be?" Mr.
Larson said. He got up and walked in front of each boy. Standing
less than three inches from the face of the first boy, he whispered,
"Jay?". Jay responded, "Y-yes". He walked down the line and asked
the same question of each boy on the same manner. He got his three
"yeses".
"Very, well," he clapped
his hands, "It's settled then. We start on Tuesday next. Everybody
here knows his or her part, and I want you all to be prepared."
This time, rapidly and crisply, "Dismissed!"
Jay stopped me in the
hall when we got out, "He can't be serious, can he? You girls aren't
going to go through with your part. Are you?"
I replied, "He is serious.
Judy and I will testify to that."
Judy interrrupted, "And
we are going to go through with our part. I wouldn't want to think
of what he'd do if we didn't do it, and besides, it'll be fun. You'll
see."
-=o=-
The following Tuesday
afternoon found Jay, Jim, Carl, Judy, Mr. Larson and myself over
Mr. Larson's house. Mr. Larson must have had money from some other
source. This place was huge! I know they don't pay teachers that
well -- even vice-principals.
Mr. Larson introduced
us to Mrs. Larson. She was almost as tall as he was, and had the
same stern consternance. "Amanda," Mr. Larson told us, "Will take
you girls on a shopping trip. There are some items you need to acquire.
You boys will assist me in the basement."
Mr. Larson led the boys
down to the basement. 'Amanda', led us to her car. Judy's curiosity
overcame her uncertainty as she asked, "Mrs. Larson, where are we
going, and what are we going to buy?"
"I prefer to be called
'Lady Larson.' I am not Earl's property!" (So, old man Larson has
a first name after all, I thought.) "As to where we are going, and
what we are going to buy, you will find that out soon enough."
The trip to the mall
was unenlightening. Lady Larson had us try on several outfits, and
some shoes, but we never bought anything.
The boys were gone by
the time we got back, and we were dismissed immediately. When we
caught up with them the following day at school I asked, "So, what
did Mr. Larson make you guys do?"
Jay responded, "Get
this, he wants to be called 'Lord Larson' at the house. -- He's
got some kind of construction project going on in the basement.
We cut some lumber and assembled a number of saw horses. The guy's
nuts. He's got all these measurements. Each one of the saw horses
has to be a different size."
Jay paused to consider
his last statement, "No, each one has to be a very specific size."
"I mean, I can't believe
it. He makes us do a god-damned trig problem. He says he wants the
horse to be a certain size, and makes us measure the angles on the
brackets. Then we got to figure out what length to cut the legs
so the cross bar is at the perfect height."
Carl picked up the story
at this point, "and it isn't enough just to cut the wood. We got
to measure it twice, draw a line on it precisely, cut it just right,
test fit it in the bracket, and even sand it down to get it just
right. He made us do one of the legs over -- I swear, it was less
than a quarter inch off! Who needs saw horses built to such exact
specifications -- and why make them different heights? Jay's right,
the guy is nuts!"
I looked at Jim. He
said, " How do I know what he's got going on? I'm not a carpenter.
Get this -- when we're done, he makes us paint the sons of bitches.
We paint three of them blue and two of them pink. Enough about us,
what did you and Mrs. Larson do?"
Judy giggled, "'Lady'
Larson," (she emphasized the "Lady", " took us shopping. We tried
on all kinds of clothes, mostly shoes, lengerie and and skirts."
"What do you think she
had in mind?" asked Carl.
"I have no idea. With
those two, it could be anything."
Jay said, "Surely you
have some idea. So far, all we know is what he told us in his office.
He says he's going to work us hard and make us do embarrassing things.
I can handle that. From the descriptions of some of the things he's
said, it's probably no worse than what my brother did to pledge
for his fraternity."
Jim asked, "Come on,
you've spent more time with his lordship than we have. You got to
know what's going on."
I responded with a question
of my own, "Did Mr. Larson tell you anything about what he did with
us on that first Friday?"
"No."
"Well, I'm not going
to either, it doesn't bear repeating." I shot a glance at Judy.
I could see her blushing. She was also kidding me as she surreptiously
rubbed her backside. I continued, "I don't know what Mr. Larson
would do if he found out we told you. I can tell you this though,
I'd expect anything."
"The guy's crazy," interrupted
Jim.
"He's anything but,"
Judy said, "Rest assured, if he's doing anything, it is well thought
out and planned."
"Well, this not knowing
is a real pain in the ass," Jay said.
Judy and I could only
giggle, "You bet it is."
|
