by James Crow
Drew brought Colin to stand before me and I opened my legs for him, opened my cunt for him. Colin’s cock was straining hard.
He dropped to his knees, touched his warm hands to my calves and lifted my legs, while Drew stood behind, holding the chain. I told Colin I needed it rough and fast, that there could be no other way right now.
Colin pushed it in my cunt first. Couldn’t help himself. I told him if he left his spunk up there, he’d be in trouble. So he stuck it in my ass and humped me with great breaths that sounded like a huffing dragon, the chain around his neck clanking with every thrust, the gleam of lusty pleasure in his eyes.
A gleam I knew so well. Mr Tinley had stopped me in the corridor at school. It was only a few days after my disgraceful behaviour.
Can I have a word, Miss Walker? he indicated to the doors that led outside away from the throng of the corridor.
It was a drizzly day, neither of us had a coat on. He pulled me to one side, away from the doors and looked me seriously in the eye. I’ve checked your schedule, he said, and you’re free, tomorrow afternoon.
My heart leapt into my cunt at his words. I knew something good was coming.
I told him Yes, I was free, half day.
It’s just that I noticed sometimes, he went on, that you walk home, and you often sit for a while on the bench on the main road.
I held his lusty gaze awhile, ran my tongue over my lips. He’d been watching me. The times I’d sat on that bench, waiting for Mr Boots.
Yes, sir, I said, thinking he wanted to come and sit on the bench with me.
He glanced about, made sure no one was in earshot as he pinned me with those gleaming eyes and lowered his voice, There’s bad weather forecast tomorrow. A lot of rain. I just want to say, what with us both having a half day, if I see you at the bench, or walking up the road, then I’d be happy to give you a ride home.
Not the words I’d expected to hear, and he must have sensed my disappointment because he added, My home, Danielle. I have found my old cane.
I screamed then, and so did Colin. He’d been fucking my ass so hard that he’d pulled fully out on the backstroke and speared the flesh between my cunt and my asshole on the way back in. I went shooting backwards, yelping like a kicked dog. Colin was being pulled to his feet by the chain around his neck and what happened next was a bit of a blur. Colin’s hands were covering his cock, blood seeping through his fingers. He must have spilt his dick. Drew slapped his hands away, told him he was a fucking idiot. I heard the click of the lighter, saw the spark, and Colin’s ginger pubes went up in flames and he danced away slapping at it with his chain clanking.
I was still rubbing my sore ass when footsteps approached and I saw the shadow of the man. I knew it wasn’t Drew, because I could hear the smack of fist on flesh, could hear Drew’s grunts and Colin’s pleas. How exciting to see Mr Tinley. I had to come, Miss Walker, he said and tapped the cane on his palm.
Mr Tinley had left me in a bundle of emotions. I was speechless. I was hot. I was wet. And I wanted to run after him and tell him to just take me now. But he’d scurried back into school and was long-gone before I’d taken a breath. I could scarcely believe what he’d said, and looked forward to planning for the next day.
But, and this was new to me, I realised there wasn’t much planning to do, other than making sure I’d conditioned my pubes and shaved my pits and legs. All I had to do was show up. I didn’t get much sleep, thinking of him hitting me with his cane, and fucking me, and only the Good Lord would know what else.
He’d been right about the weather. It was pissing down. As I left the school doors at lunchtime, I saw him sitting in his car in the car park. I waited until I’d walked past it before I’d flicked up the hood of my parka. I heard the engine start up, my heart pounding as I went through the school gates.
I’d stood next to the bench and waited only seconds before his old Volvo pulled up. I slipped inside quickly and he’d pulled away before I’d even closed the door.
Put your hood back up, he told me, and keep down in the seat. I’d done as I was told, stayed low in my seat with my hood over my head. I took the fabric of my skirt in my hands and pulled it up to reveal my pale thighs. Good girl, he said and I stayed like that for a good half hour before the car slowed and gravel crunched beneath the tyres. All clear, he said.
It was a big house, a posh house, nothing like the trampy shithole I lived in. I wondered if I’d get to stay the night.
Inside was a sight for sore eyes. Paintings, hundreds of them, filled the walls. Bookcases everywhere. And a dog, a cute ginger spaniel called Dolly. She licked my hands and kissed my face.
Mr Tinley led me to the kitchen, took my coat and sat me at a big table. He made us ham sandwiches and mugs of hot chocolate. It was really nice.
He asked me if I was up for this.
I told him I wanted to stay the night.
Are you willing, Miss Walker, to do everything I ask you to do?
Yes, sir.
No, he said, let me put it this way. Are you willing, Miss Walker, to do everything I ask of you, no matter what it is? No matter how you may feel personally, you will do it for me?
I told him all I ever wanted was for someone to tell me what to do.
Those lusty eyes watched me eat my sandwich. Watched me drink my hot chocolate. I smiled at him the whole time.
I admire the way you took pain, he said.
Thank you, sir.
Your threshold is obviously high.
Yes, sir.
Do you know it is a form of art?
Art, sir?
The giving and receiving of pain.
I see, sir.
The giving and receiving of submission.
Yes, sir.
The giving and receiving of humiliation.
Of course, sir.
He told me he wasn’t sure I did see. I told him to try me.
Stand for me, he said,
I obliged, with a smile and a straight back.
Remove your blouse.
I took it off slow, watching his eyes on my chest as I peeled it open and dropped it to the floor.
The bra was my newest, pale blue with little bows. I had on matching knickers.
Now the skirt.
I slid it down, kicked it away, and stood before him in my pale blue underwear and black socks.
Do you give yourself to me, Danielle?
Yes, sir. You only have to tell me what to do.
He nodded, studied me up and down, then he got to his feet and came real close. I could smell that musk of his. He was hot for it.
You still wish to meet my old cane, Danielle?
My breath hitched for him. Please, sir.
He took me to a huge room with tall windows that looked onto a long garden and fields beyond. He stood me near to some French doors and opened them, letting in a gush of cold air that excited me. I felt the tingles in my nipples as they tightened. Felt the heat spreading through my thighs.
I stood straight, chin up, hands by my sides.
He came to stand behind me and his hand went to the fastener of my bra, grasped it tight in his fist and then he twisted it hard. The straps pulled against my skin and all I could do was gasp for him.
His breaths came ragged as he kept up the pressure, twisting his fist as far as he could. It was wonderful. I told him so. He told me not to speak until spoken to and let go of me.
He came to my front and pulled down the cups of my bra. My tits were firm, nipples tight and dark. I almost asked him to suck them, then remembered to keep my mouth shut.
I’m going to give you a lesson, he said.
I nodded.
He told me I could answer.
Yes, sir.
He told me to clasp my hands behind my back and then he sucked on my tits. Deep and hard sucks, his teeth so harsh it thrilled me through and through. And this was only the beginning.
He told me to take my knickers off and hold them over his nose. I did, took t
hem off and pressed the dampness to his face, and the buzz in my cunt when he breathed in nearly floored me. It would have been so easy to lose control, to jump him, to bite him. But I did as I was told.
He snatched my knickers from my hand, told me he was fetching the cane. Told me not to move a muscle.
Yes, sir.
So I stood there in just my bra with the cups down, nipples hard against the cold air coming through the French doors. I felt it on my thighs too, where they were damp with my juices. It was heaven.
I waited an age before I heard the patter of tiny feet and Dolly came into view. She came up to me and licked at my leg. Good girl, I told her in a whisper.
Mr Tinley returned shortly after. He was wearing a tartan dressing gown; his bare legs beneath were wonderfully hairy. And best of all, he had the cane in his hands.
Strained grunts and the prickle of hay at my ass and Mr Tinley’s head was between my legs, his teeth so nice on my hot cunt lips. I told him I loved the way he nibbled me and when he looked up he was Doctor Mort. The lenses of his glasses were smeared with my cream. You have an adorable vagina, he told me. Coke and shrooms are a heady mix. No, more than that. I was seeing new things now, from a different angle.
I was standing at the gap, smoking a cig, looking back at myself on the old horse blanket. Doctor Mort, in a dark suit, kneeling between my legs. Mr Tinley, in shirt and trousers, watched on, tapping his cane on his leg. And beside him stood another guy. He was looking my way. It took a second to realise who it was. Work overalls, black boots. It was only Mr fucking Boots. I thought I’d never see him again.
I had a great big smile on my face as he walked over to me. I glanced around for Drew but couldn’t see him. Couldn’t see Colin, either.
Mr Boots didn’t appear happy at all. His dark eyes took in my nakedness. You’re asking for trouble, he told me.
Or worse, I said and my giggle made Mr Boots smile.
I told him it was too late to save a crazy bitch like me, and that he should just get me fucked. I’ll even fast-pass you to the front of the line.
He said no, told me I should get out of there, and I told him fair enough, we can go to the other barn, there’s a nice bed there.
No, we can’t, he said, it’s already occupied.
Chapter Thirteen
Trouble, Mr Tinley said, holding the lapels of his tartan dressing gown and puffing his chest out like a sergeant major, the handle of the cane in one hand, the shaft of it resting on the other. That’s what you are, Miss Walker. A dirty little bundle of filthy trouble.
Yes, sir.
Is your mother proud of you?
No, sir.
Your father?
I never knew my father, sir.
Then the explanation is simple, he tapped the cane on his palm, you are lacking in discipline.
Yes, sir.
Open your legs.
I shuffled my feet apart.
He stepped right up to me. Eye to eye. His musk was strong, made my skin prickle. He placed the shaft of the cane between my legs and pressed it against my wet cunt. The whispered breath that escaped me brought his smile alive. He licked his lips, gently moved the cane back and forth a little, staring into my eyes as he did so, and I smiled for him, a grateful smile, my lashes fluttering at the pleasure of his delicate touch.
Close your legs tight, he told me.
I did as I was told.
Tighter!
Yes, sir.
He let go of the cane, and I held it there, pressed to my cunt, the handle end pointing towards my lovely teacher. He was still smiling. I loved his happy smile.
Danielle, he said, the look of satisfaction on his face so sweet, Danielle, I need you to appreciate the finer most subtle shades of sexual arousal before you can really appreciate discipline.
I’d felt my juices trickle past the shaft of the cane. I was enthralled by him.
You see, he went on, art is everything and everything is art.
I didn’t really get what he meant, and he knew I didn’t get it from the stupid blank look on my face.
He explained, taking a step back and eyeing my tits poking over my bra cups, that the image I presented was most exceptional. Perfect tits. Perfect pale skin. Offset so wonderfully symmetrically by the pale blue fabric of your bra. You, Danielle, are a work of art.
I see, sir.
Or, he said, stepping forward again and leaning his face so close to my right nipple that sparks flew through my tits to my tummy, if one examines closely every crease, every tiny wrinkle, every different pigment, every downy hair, one can find a much deeper arousal.
I felt my nipple tightening as he told me he was going to slowly, very, very slowly, Danielle, touch the tip of my tongue to the tip of your right nipple. He said that I should close my eyes, and that when contact was made, I would feel it in the hot pit of my clit.
In the hot pit of your clit, Danielle. You understand?
Yes, sir.
Tell me.
I will feel it in the hot pit of my clit, sir.
Good girl. Now, let us try.
My heart was racing at this point. He showed me his tongue, the tip of it, then leaned in again. Over his shoulder, I noticed Dolly the spaniel had curled up in her basket. Big brown eyes were watching us. I remember wondering what other sights Dolly might have witnessed, when Mr Tinley reminded me to close my eyes.
Focus your mind on your right breast, he said, in particular, the nipple and the sensitive areola.
Yes, sir.
Can you feel it, Danielle? Can you feel the soft weight of your breast, how the nipple eagerly awaits my touch?
I could feel it. My tit was aching for him. Yes, sir. Please, sir.
I felt his warm breath first, followed soon after by the simple yet firm press of his tongue, and then he flicked it. Flicked my nipple quickly and a jolt of electricity arced straight to my clit. It made me jump. It made me gasp. And when Mr Tinley yanked that cane away from my cunt – the cane I’d completely forgotten about – the pain was so sharp I thought he’d sliced me open. I remember screeching. I remember leaping. I remember the searing heat as my clit clanged like a struck sword and I dropped to the floor, on my backside, squirming against an orgasm that was so nearly there. Oh fucking God, I said.
Mr Tinley was nodding, smiling his gleaming smile. Perfect, he said. Then he told me Remove your fingers from your cunt immediately. I hadn’t realised they were even up there, but I did as I was told.
I made to get up but he told me to stay on my knees, that he had something to show me, another form of art.
He told me it was special, that I must be sworn to absolute secrecy. The man excited me. I wanted to hug him. Wanted to kiss him. Wanted to tell him how much he thrilled me.
He was standing about six feet away from me, his tartan dressing gown tied tight around him, his hairy legs and bare feet promising nakedness beneath. He slapped the cane in his palm.
Absolute secrecy, Danielle. Our little secret. Is that agreeable?
In for a fucking penny, sir, were the words that came from my mouth.
Mr Tinley laughed, bounced on the balls of his feet.
I want to ask you, he said, do you have… do you have any fetishes, Miss Walker?
Fetishes? I wasn’t sure to be honest. I mean, what is a fetish?
Do you like doing anything peculiar?
Peculiar? What didn’t I like doing that wasn’t fucking peculiar?
Mr Tinley was looking anxious, then it came to me and I told him straight, Sticking vegetables up my bum, sir.
And there was that gleaming smile again.
More, Danielle, tell me more.
I shrugged. Carrots and cucumbers, sir.
I remember the way he shook his head, told me that a cucumber was a fruit not a vegetable, as if it really fucking mattered.
But that’s good, he said, really good. Anything else?
I was at a loss. Again, what didn’t I like that wasn’t peculiar?
But once again the words just came rolling out, I like to piss outside, sir. I love the thrill of it.
Yes! he said, I’d taken you for a pisser. Piss and vegetables. That is excellent, Danielle. I think now I’d like to show you one of my peculiar fetishes, and then perhaps we can learn to share.
I gave him my best smile. Nodded eagerly. Yes, sir. Please, sir.
Very well, he said and took a step closer, feet parted, back straight, and he slowly untied the sash on his dressing gown. He let the sash drop loose, and gripped the two sides of his dressing gown, an expression of sheer delight on his kind face. He told me he was buzzing. That I made him buzz. Buzz like a fucking bee, he said.
He asked if I was buzzing. I realised that I was. My head was buzzing. My tits were buzzing. My cunt was buzzing most of all, and I told him so.
Buzz, buzz, buzz, he said, buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.
I slapped the little fucker from my ear. But the buzzing grew louder.
‘We need to get over there and find Drew,’ I told Mr Boots and went to get in the pickup. But Mr Boots stopped me, grabbed my arm, told me that Drew wasn’t the one occupying the other barn.
Another buzz at my ear. I slapped the fucker away, then noticed the mushrooms growing from the seats in the pickup. Luminous green mushrooms all fat and puffing with green dust. The caps of the mushrooms were rippling, as if insects crawled underneath. And in a matter of seconds they were popping through the surface. Bees. Hundreds of them. They lifted off in slow motion, one by one, drifting through the pickup’s windows, legs heavy with pulsating sacs of green poison. I knew it was poison.
I had to run. Tried to run back into the barn but stopped dead at the racket. The me on the horse blanket was screaming. Doctor Mort and Mr Tinley were on their knees, at me with their hands, and the crazy fucking noise… buzz, buzz, buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.
The bees got me, right there at the gap in the barn wall. In my ears and in my hair and crawling up my nose. They stung my tits first and the pain was like shots of gold. They stung my belly, thighs, and I screamed with the joy of it. Screamed as some wonderful force pulled me across the barn and slammed me back into the me on the horse blanket.
