From: an674112@anon.penet.fi (Rosewood)
"Deborah! What are you doing?"
"I'm afraid you need to be taught a lesson. And as the person you've appointed to train you, it falls to me to do the teaching!" Emma could see trouble and realised that fighting her way out was not an option.
"Look, Debbie. I'm sorry - really. I was just jealous - please tell them to go away. You can do what you like to me!"
"And you can be certain that I will," Deborah retorted with an ironic smile. "However, there are other things you need to learn about and the boys will be able to help me in this."
Emma was about to continue her pleading, but Deborah held up her hand. "No more! I'm not prepared to negotiate. I want you bent over with your legs straight and your hands on the couch. Now!"
Deborah's tone permitted no discussion. Emma, flushing hotly as she was ordered around in the nude before two more strange boys, turned around and displayed her already red behind.
"What do you think, boys?" Deborah asked.
"Very nice," a voice replied.
"But we can still improve the view, can't we?" Deborah said softly.
"Spread your legs please, Emma."
"No... please... I...."
"Young lady, you will do as you're... TOLD!" As she spoke, Deborah covered the space between herself and Emma in three brisk strides. Then, on the word "told", she landed a furious blow with the ruler on the naked girl's left inner thigh to emphasise the point.
Tears coming to her eyes, and words now bitten on, Emma moved her feet apart until her pink pussy lips opened up and pouted, glistening, at an enthralled audience. Deborah slipped her fingers into the silky wetness and allowed Emma to forget the horrible situation for a moment as she abandoned herself to her friend's skilful fingers. Then she was brought rudely back to reality.
"Now boys," Deborah's voice was saying. "Come and introduce yourselves." Deborah's fingers left her for a moment and were shortly replaced by a less gentle hand. With no preliminaries, two thick fingers slid themselves deep inside her in a single thrust.
"I'm Andy," a voice said.
Fortunately, Emma was so wet by now that their passage was easy and Emma couldn't hold back a gasp of pleasure as her pussy was so quickly filled and even found herself pushing back on the intruding hand as its fingers slid in and out of her before retiring.
"And I'm Paul."
These fingers were gentler, more tender. Instead of the rush to enter her which typified most teenaged boys, Paul's fingertips explored her folds carefully, finding her clitoris quickly and coaxing a low moan of pleasure from her lips as he traced tiny circles over it. She guessed that this was the taller of the two boys, the shy looking one with the cute brown eyes and gave herself up to his light caresses, parting her thighs a little wider and feeling a distant orgasm creeping closer.
Too soon, though, the fingers left her and their delicious touch was replaced by a very different sensual caress - that of the ruler. Emma guessed, rightly, that it was Deborah's hand wielding the short piece of wood as it cracked repeatedly across her bare bottom and thighs. She was certain that either of the boys, and especially Paul, would have difficulty (at least at first) in spanking her so severely.
Soon she was crying out loudly under the blows, desperately trying to hold her pose to avoid shaming herself before the boys. Again and again Deborah laid red stripes across her lover's rounded buttocks, determined to break the girl completely right from the start.
To her credit, it took a long time for Emma to buckle totally. She took over thirty-five strokes, delivered with full force, before falling forwards onto the couch in a quivering, weeping mess. Still Deborah continued to flog the crumpled girl, now shouting at her as well, until she was no longer even able to flinch at each blow but just lay there on her face and took her mistress' punishment.
When Deborah had finished, she stood over Emma's prostrate body sobbing with exertion and released anger. Emma's bottom and thighs were a web of red marks and she lay almost motionless, her every thought wiped from her mind by the terrible pain of the spanking.
"Now, let's see if we can deal with this jealousy of yours shall we?" Deborah reached under her mini-skirt and slipped her panties down to the floor, walking over to the couch and sitting down with one foot on the floor and the other on the far side of Emma's head so that her own pussy was spread as wide as her friend's and, her skirt useless in this position, equally on display. Emma's eyes, her head turned in that direction, were only inches from that pink slit she knew so well.
"You!" she turned to Andy and almost shouted at him too. "Take off your trousers and pants and come over here!"
Despite the rudeness of the command, the boy did as he was told in the expectation of something good to come. His cock sprung from his pants as he pulled them down and Deborah smiled hungrily at him as he ambled over. She got Andy to kneel between her wide open thighs and then, as Emma looked on, opened a condom packet and took the thin rubber sheath out. Emma had only ever seen condoms when they were being filled up with air or water and had only ever seen erections in magazines. So when Deborah began to unroll the condom along the length of Andy's rigid prick, Emma watched in fascination, her eyes staying on the long, thick, rubber covered organ as Deborah manoeuvred the boy closer.
Then Deborah spoke directly to Emma. "This is my pussy," she said, rubbing her fingers along her slit, "I will will choose what I do with it, not you. Do you understand me?"
"Yes," Emma mumbled, watching Andy's hardness edging forward until it nuzzled Deborah's pussy lips.
"My pussy is not owned by you. It's owned by me. And if, for example, I want to have a nice thick cock inside it, then I'll have one. Understand?"
"Yes."
Andy was now beginning to get impatient at having to wait while Deborah continued to tell her friend off, and was also not too happy about being used simply as a teaching aid. So he decided to take the initiative. He reached round to grasp Deborah's bottom with both hands and thrust hard, entering a surprised girl with a loud grunt.
From her position, Emma had the clearest view possible of the thick, dark headed cock slamming up into her friend's pussy over and over again as Andy fucked her in the same basic way that he had previously fingered Emma. In and out, in and out with no real technique but, and this was his hidden secret, with incredible stamina. He never slowed down. He never appeared to be getting close to a climax from which he had to pull back. He never showed any signs of tiredness. He just drove deep into Deborah's pussy with a searing rhythm which, after twenty minutes of solid fucking, had brought the girl to orgasm no less than five times, Emma having to look on (in close up) as this boy pleasured her girlfriend.
Finally, when Deborah's head had started to loll from side to side from sexual exhaustion, and nearly half an hour after he had first pile-driven his erection between her labia and inside her, Andy came himself, groaning loudly as he filled the condom with his juices. Carefully, the boy withdrew and Emma watched as his creamy cum oozed from the uesd sheath. Deborah kept her eyes closed for a few moments, regaining her breath and then opened them to address Emma.
"So, you understand so far. Now, perhaps you could tell me who your pussy belongs to?"
If Emma had not already had her natural resistance soundly thrashed of her, she would have given then answer that she knew Deborah did not want to hear. In the circumstances, however, she answered:
"To you, Deborah."
"To me. That's right - to me. I decide who gets to see it, who gets to touch it, who gets to taste it. Is that clear?"
"Yes, Deborah."
"Paul. Do you like the taste of pussy. Virgin pussy, I might add." Emma felt herself getting wetter at the words, but hoped it didn't show. "Why yes, it so happens that I love the taste of pussy. Although I'm not sure whether I've ever tasted virgin pussy before."
This was the boy Emma had thought looked shy. If he was, he hid his shyness well.
Deborah carried on: "Well, while I'm chatting to Emma, you just go ahead and have a good lick and tell me what you think."
Then she turned once more to Emma: "So we'll have no more of your ‘I'm not doing this, that, or the other' shit, girl! If I tell you to pull off your knickers and spread your legs in the middle of Oxford Street, you'll do it. I hope you understand that."
"Yes, Deborah, I... Oh, God... ohhh!"
As she spoke, Paul, having knelt between her thighs, lowered his head and began to lick tentatively at her enraged clitoris, running his tongue every now and then along the full length of her slit. The feeling was amazing. No boyfriend of hers had every offered to do this to her - and, she admitted to herself, she probably would have said no if they had. But what an amazing sensation. Now his tongue was starting to push inside her vagina...
It didn't take long, in the heightened atmosphere, for Paul to bring the girl under his lips and tongue to orgasm and Deborah intervened once he had. She sat on the side of the couch and picked up a banana from the side.
"Do you like bananas?" she asked Emma pleasantly.
"Oh yes," the other girl replied innocently. "I love them."
"Good."
Deborah sat next to her friend quietly peeling the fruit until the top half of its length was left white and unsheathed. Emma had a sudden uneasy feeling which grew rapidly as Deborah got off the couch and took Paul's place between the girl's legs.
Emma knew that nothing she could say or do would change anything now. Indeed, although she would never have admitted this to anyone, when she felt the first brush of the banana's soft tip against her pink vulva, she found herself willing Deborah to enter her with it - to slide it hard up inside her.
Deborah was never one for speed in such matters though.Slowly, she eased the fat fruit up into the other girl's greedy pussy, filling her completely with the white flesh.
Then she began to fuck her friend with it. Emma groaned with pleasure as the banana slid easily in and out of her pussy, Deborah setting up an easy rhythm and calling the boys in to help. Their hands and mouths were soon hard at work so that it seemed to Emma that every inch of her body was being stroked, caressed or kissed. The sensation was incredible. She had never felt anything like this before and she never wanted it to stop. The trio took her up and over mountains of pleasure, each peak a climax of intensity she had never imagined. She could hear the three changing places so that she never knew who was holding the banana (which was remaining in amazingly good condition) or whose fingers or tongues were toying with her clitoris or playing with her tits.
And then, very suddenly, it stopped. There was a sudden flurry and the banana was pulled sharply from her. She shouted out loudly in disappointment:
"Hey, what's going...." but was (thankfully) interrupted by a deep male voice.
"And you! Stand up quickly!"
Emma jumped to her feet, spinning round to see a middle-aged man with a black gown and a very angry face.
"My name," he explained, making no reference to Emma's nakedness, "is Mr Sternly. I'm the housemaster here and you..."
He looked at them all through narrowed eyes.
"You are all in a great deal of trouble. I won't ask what was going on because, to be frank, I really don't want to hear all the sordid details. Boys, go and wait outside my study. You will each receive twelve strokes of the cane on the bare behind. I will be recommending to the girls' housemaster that they get the same. Go!"
The boys scuttled wordlessly from the room, leaving Emma and Deborah to face the terrifying Mr Sternly alone.
"Is there any reason why I should not inform your housemaster of this incident. Were you being forced to do anything against your wishes?" Emma didn't even hear the question. She was totally preoccupied by the thought of taking a caning on the bare bottom from Mr Lindon. She had seen the effects on Deborah of just six strokes and was certain she couldn't take twelve.
"No, Sir. We're really sorry, Sir," Deborah was saying.
"I should think so. You've humiliated yourselves - and embarrassed me with your... your disgraceful display of... strumpettry.
He looked straight at Emma.
"What would your mother say, young lady. Hey?" he snapped. Emma tried to answer, but found herself able only to answer with a flood of tears.
"Don't bawl, you silly thing. That's just a refusal to face up to your responsibility for your actions. Stop it, I say! Very well, I'll give you something to cry about!"
And with that, he pulled the naked girl towards him with one hand, placed his left foot on a chair and hauled her, still weeping, up and over his knee - her feet and hands dangling in mid-air. Three times in swift succession he brought his large, heavy hand down on her upturned bare bottom, greatly amplifying the girl's wailing.
"I will not have little girls who think they're big women coming round to my house and making an exhibition of themselves with my boys!" he barked, delivering another ten severe smacks to her cheeks to the rhythm of his words.
"Right, get yourself dressed," he said with disgust, almost dropping her to the floor. Then to Deborah: "No, not you. You can have a reminder to take with you as well. Come on."
Deborah hesitated for a fraction of a second and was rewarded with another verbal barrage.
"Now, young hussy, over my knee. Or I'll take the cane to you myself!" Deborah knew, of course, that this man, not being a teacher at her school, had no jurisdiction to cane her - or even to spank her. Yet she knew, too, that this kind of fact rarely got in the way of anything and allowed herself to be pulled unceremoniously over the tall man's muscled thigh. Brusquely he flipped her skirt up, finding her naked beneath.
"Do you usually walk around without panties on?" he asked, accompanied by the first salvo of five smacks.
"No, Sir!" she responded in the kind of voice privates use when answering their sergeant majors.
"Should I suggest to your housemaster that you be barred from wearing panties for one month, perhaps?" Again, five blistering smacks.
"No, sir!"
"Mmph!" he grunted, lifting his hand and delivering a further three before letting the girl off to find her discarded knickers.
Then he looked at them both with a terrible stare. "If I catch you in my house just once more," he lectured them. "It won't be a few smacks on the bottom, I promise you that! Follow me."
Mr Sternly led the two tearful girls though the study corridors (where boys were whispering excitedly to one another, swapping versions of what might have happened) and into his own quarters. They passed Paul and Andy, both too concerned about their own fates to bother thinking twice about them, and followed the housemaster into his study where he picked up the phone. Emma heard him outlining the afternoon's happening and then tried to piece together the rest of the conversation from her one-sided evidence.
"Yes, I'm afraid so... yes... of course... well, twelve strokes on the bare... I think so... good, that's the fairest thing... yes... yes I'll send them straight away - they should be with you in, say, twenty-five minutes. Good, what shall I... straight to your study? Fine. Yes... that's OK, I'm sorry too. And I think four young people will be pretty sorry before the day is out!"