Thanks Q!
I'll alter it for eric and Petunia, if you don't mind: "Haddock arse"!
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Thanks Q!
I'll alter it for eric and Petunia, if you don't mind: "Haddock arse"!
Here are some short words for you; bend; pants down; touch toes; brace...Quote:
Originally Posted by suchaminx
;pout; :14: :crawlgirl
These look a little more suitable...
as a motto for the school i'm unsure- but as a personal motto for the head I'd like to suggest 'Caudex est, et semper ebrium' roughly translating to 'he's a git and he's always drunk'
Well with regard to my assignment regarding learning more about Chattel.... well don't tell anyone, but i found out she has a naughty school girl fantasy! No wonder she signed up here Ed Master! Watch out, I bet she'll be bending over the punishment chair before you can say 'six of the best!'
.
My entry for the school motto competition is
Semper prarparo, semper cupidus, semper bonus.
Which if my latin has served me correctly is "Always ready, always eager, always good", although I await possible correction by Mr Squiffingon-Smythe.
:cheerlead
:wow_nbs: Dear Headmaster,
To celebrate the occasion of my 150th post, please may we have a dorm midnight party.
Minxy is willing to collect supplies of alchol, including crates of JD, from one of the off licenses in Birchingem when she is sober enough to drive Ted's car again.
All members of staff will of course be welcome to join us.
In excited anticipation
cariad
:elvis: Dr Edmund Master P(erve) at dorm party?
I'm not much of student... I haven't been able to learn much about Jennyfer or have I completed any other assignments...
Ah! A disguise. Well,it won't work. I know who you are...Quote:
Originally Posted by amethyst
squiffy will be alerted...Quote:
Originally Posted by cariad(CC)
Well done cariad!Quote:
Originally Posted by cariad(CC)
Midnight too late-you have work to do in the morning! 9:30 OK in chatroom slothlands?
Girls may be excused school uniform.
You may wear other uniforms, though.
This is intolerable!Quote:
Originally Posted by chattel69
I shall see you at the dorm party, when this will be discussed.
:woohoo: ;che ;che :popc1:
Supplies obtained cariad!!
Did you miss me last night, crept out whilst you were sleeping (at least I am sure that noise you were making was snoring or were you practicing your latin with the But Not guy?)
See you later...............:kiss:
Tuesday, June 12:
It's been nearly a week since the caretaker's last visit. I've been keeping my eye on him. He's been watching the students a little too closely, if you know what I mean. Any of those little vixens get too close to him, and they'll be finding out about the ropes we don't use for climbing purposes pretty quickly.
That reminds me. Must remember to assign that biography of the Marquis de Sade for the General Studies class. I'm sure the girls will get some useful lessons from it.
I must say, for a new school, Slothlands is quite well-equipped. Much better than the last school I taught at. Of course, it'd be hard for it not to be better than that dump. All that headmaster did was watch the video from the cameras all over the school and play with himself. Where's the fun in that for the rest of us?
The only disagreeable thing so far is that nobody can make a decent margarita to save their life around here. I've taken care of that, though. I ordered a margarita machine and it should be delivered, along with a case of my favorite tequila, later this week.
And the best thing about that is that it means Mr. Stoat will have to come to my quarters and set it up. I can hardly wait.
Ed, Ted Stoat here, I've got your memo about the margarita kit. I've got the salt and the tequila, all I need now is the sick bucket and the morning-after pills.
Anyway, that's not why I'm writing. I found some graffiti in the girls' bathroom. Probably best if you don't know what I was doing in there.
Uncle Ed, he grabbed hold of a minx
T'was because she was up to hi jinx
She bent over his knee
And when spanked, he could see
The various cute shades of bright pinks
Ca-ri-ad was courted by Ed
She rebuffed him, so he pouted, and said
That he liked her behind
And he fancied her mind
So he said "Possibly head instead?"
Exhausted, he looked at young Julie,
With a rep that was fun but unruly
She took him in hand
And squeezed on his gland
Saying "no spanks from you for yours truly."
"Look at that arse of Seababy's"
Said Ed, with no ifs, buts, nor maybes
Caning it would be cruel
But it would make him drool
Like he had a fresh bout of bad rabies
Then he looked at the newcomer, Chattel
To discipline her was a battle
He needed more skills
So took those blue pills
Till his insides, they started to rattle
Finally, he came to young jenny
Whose charms were cute, clear and so many
He wanted a share
Of her damp underwear
But she blushed and said "I don't wear any!"
Cheers,
Ted Stoat
Fanny: I found this recipe, and wondered if you thought it was suitable for serving at parent’s evening.
Chilled Tarte Duchess. An elegant edible centre piece.
It is essential to prepare your Duchess carefully since you never know where they have been. They are known for being headstrong and full of self importance, and sometimes even object to being the centre of a tart, so it is recommended that having selected your Duchess you take her out side and firmly secure her in a vertical spread eagled position. Inspect your Duchess carefully, first pluck any body hair from her, and then scrub her thoroughly and hose her down. Leave to dry.
You will need a pie dish with a diameter approximately the same as the Duchess’ arse to neck measurement. Line the pie dish with a thick layer of marzipan and put one side.
Check your Duchess is clean and dry – you may wish to repeat the plucking, scrubbing and hosing process a number of times until you are satisfied; but do make sure she dries out completely each time.
Find a suitable man to carry the prepared Duchess in the kitchen and place her on the kitchen table. Place a four ringed wide leather collar around the Duchess’ neck and fasten her wrists to this so her fingers are behind her neck. Next attach cuffs to her ankles and attach ropes between her ankles and collar so that her legs are vertical. In most cases it will also be necessary to gag your Duchess to stop her complaining.
You will again need assistance at this point with placing your Duchess into the prepared marzipan shell. Her neck should be resting on the edge of the pie dish, with her head tipped backwards.
Take a large brush and paint the Duchess with a thick layer of molten chocolate, taking particular care to ensure that all crevices are well covered. Place pie dish, with duchess in large fridge to chill.
To serve: Fill the surrounding space around the Duchess with fresh fruit sprinkled with liqueur. It is recommended that guests serve themselves.
Your Headmasterlyness:
I feel compelled to inform you that the girls have, once again, been using the ropes for climbing purposes again. I had hoped that you would impress upon them the importance of using ropes for their specified purposes only.
I expect that this will not continue to be a problem.
M. Gonzlaes
Mr. Stoat:
As you know, I have an excellent view of the school grounds from my office. Therefore, I am well aware that my margarita machine and tequila were delivered, received by you personally, two days ago. And yet there is still no margarita machine and still no tequila in my office. I expect that this situation will soon be remedied.
According to the manufacturer, it should take no more than 15 minutes to install the margarita machine. If you would kindly inform me of when you expect to be able to perform the installation, I will be sure to clear my calendar for at least an hour, more, if you request. In addition, I will be certain to wear that black lace thong you expressed an interest in the other day.
M. Gonzales
Dear Log
Things appear to be settling in well at Slothlands. The staff are getting to know one another's funny little ways and the girls are investigating one another too! I'm so glad I decided to have Ted install the night vision cameras in the dorm!
I must speak to all the girls about mis-use of school equipment. Marie says the ropes are being used for climbing! What sort of a use is that?
Fanny is delighted with the new receipe and says she will try it out. Apparently I have to help by singing with her as we work. Something about harmonising? I could have mis-heard though.
Ted is weaving more than ever around the grounds on the tractor. I've told him so many times not to drink and drive! It's so irresponsible! He spills a lot of good booze. *Note to self* Order more tequila.
Note to fellow pupils, written on exercise book paper and delivered across classroom in traditional aerodynamic manner.
As of tonight our pervey headmaster has installed nightvision cameras in the Dom (whoops Dorm).
Suggested action: push all beds together and stitch duvets together.
Dorm gatherings can then continue undercover. Lovers of white chocolate to sleep on the wight, lovers of other things on the left.
anon
;che
Hello, fellow co-conspirator escapee person called Cariad...
Everything’s ready! We tunnel tonight! It’s finished, like at the end of the Shawshank Redemption, or that other film about those prisoners of war who make an escape that was great. I forget what it was called.
As planned, the tunnel begins in a place where no-one will ever look – Julie’s underwear drawer. Well, she never looks there, anyway. Truly. I cleared away the cobwebs and started digging a few days ago. Thanks for lending me the hand-held, multi-speed drill, and I’ll promise not to tell anyone about those special drill-bits that you use.
And all those bedposts you found came in handy to support the tunnel. Good idea of yours to look at the back of Ted’s shed. (What were you doing there anyway? You weren’t after his stash of Educational Films, were you?) Do you think it’s true that he keeps a bedpost from each girl he catches being naughty? Because I saw about two dozen of Seababy’s in there. I couldn’t use some of them, because of all the notches and carvings and sawn-off handcuffs that were on them. Health and safety, y’know?
I just hope the tunnel ends up in the right place. We will have fun in the Pervington Boys’ School. We must do! It’s where the headmaster learned everything he knows.
Cariad, have you brought the goodies? I’ve got some whipped cream, but you were going to get everything else, weren’t you? So, have you packed the clothes pegs, spatulas, teabags, some of Fanny’s juiciest tarts, embrocation, cock rings, coat hangers, ring doughnuts for hoop-la, pencils and pencil sharpeners, white chocolate cornettos, and twenty feet of sturdy chain borrowed from Chattel. You must have a big satchel.
So all we need now is the diversion. It’s Ted’s birthday, so we could give the old pervert a surprise party. You can ask Miss Gonzales if you can borrow her margarita kit, but put on that cute face she likes, she’ll never say no. If she says no, then just tell her you know all about her and Ted, and the school newsletter is out soon, and it’s going to have pictures and everything. Giggles.
I reckon we should lace the margaritas with El Diablo industrial-strength tequila. It’s a simple plan, but fiendish, and the other girls will enjoy themselves too. Just tell Jennyfer not to smoke within twenty yards of the party unless she wants a new way of shaping her eyebrows.
So, assuming you don’t drink too much El Diablo, or get tied up in the inevitable orgy, we should be at the boys’ dorm by midnight. Don’t forget your batteries, we’ll need two sets each, one for the miner’s lamps we’re going to wear. I can’t wait to shine my torch to have a look inside a boys’ darkened chambers. I’m so excited I think I need to go and change!
Suchaminx x
"Can you borrow my what?"
"My margarita machine's not very portable."
"Well, sure. It does make large batches you could put in pitchers."
"You're all of legal drinking age, so I guess you can have a few pitchers of margaritas, but I don't have any pitchers with lids. Why on earth would you need lids?"
"Oh, I see."
"Is that so? Well, goodness, girl. There's no need to sound so threatening. I didn't plan on saying 'no'."
"You know, there's a much easier way to get to the boys' school. I *do* have a car, you know."
Ladies, and I use that term lightly:
Your assignment is simple. Create a list of five public figures you would like to have you tie you up and have their way with you and five you wouldn't let come anywhere near you. Write a brief paragraph for each discussing why you've made that selection.
"Duh, because he's totally hot" is not a satisfactory answer.
The five you choose who can't come near you must be people who are actually considered attractive by other people.
Arrr. Ted Stoat here, putting his homework in.
5 women I'd like to tie me up. Yum.
1. Angelina Jolie, because she's filthy and perverted and would give me a session I'd never forget.
2. Drew Barrymore, who has the sultriest grin of all the Hollywood stars, and could leave all sorts of lipstick traces over my body. Yum.
3. Portia De Rossi, when she joined the cast of Ally McBeal, before she became really thin. Yum. I'd love her to smother me with her delectable breasts, plus the bonus factor that she's a lesbian might give old Ted some severe cane marks.
4. Kelly Brook, though I doubt she'd be as dirty as the other girls.
5. Lindsay Lohan, who the press want to portray as a loonie, but I reckon she's very sweet. If nothing else, she could be trusted to untie me at the end of the night.
Bubbling under:
Eliza Dushku, Salma Hayek, Shannon Elizabeth, Scarlett Johannsen
5 "pretty" women I'd never let near me:
1. Kate Moss, who does nothing for me. Don't know if you saw that White Stripes video where she was a lapdancer - she was hopeless! No sensual hip movement at all.
2. Lucy Liu. I'm not sure whether she's actually bonkers or not, but she looks it.
3. Mariah Carey. Because she is bonkers.
4. Halle Berry, because she doesn't look as though she'd have a sense of humour. If I were tied up there, she'd have to have one. Oops.
5. Avril Levigne, because she'd snap.
Q/Ted xx
This school needs a cat. I'd offer myself but I already have a home.
The morning after, when his head felt like there was a steel band laying a tribute to Led Zeppelin in an echo chamber, Ted would blame Miss Gonzales. It was her fault. That witch, that scarlet senorita, that svelte young angel with horns hidden in the mop of delectable black hair that cascaded down to her shoulders, it was due to her. Filled with rage, he still sighed that he adored her shoulders, the shade of her light brown skin and the contrast with any clothes she wore. Ted stretched out a yawn, rolled onto his back, winced, and let his mind return to what he could remember of the previous night.
----------------------------------------------
The headmaster had asked him to bring Miss Gonzales a margarita-making kit. Being a man of simple tastes, Ted had never made any drink more complicated than a pint of Guinness with a straw, so he had to ask some of the students how to construct this so-called margarita.
"You need salt and lime," said Jennyfer.
"And some Triple Sec," added Julie-Truly.
"Don't forget the tequila," smiled Suchaminx.
"And you'll need some fresh ginger, clean glasses, preferably two, and a cocktail shaker," said Chattel, putting unnecessary emphasis on the ‘cock’ of cocktail. “But you can use a blender.”
"And you’ll need some Aslutsay," grinned Seababy.
"What's Aslutsay?" Ted asked.
"She says 'Hi Mr Stoat, can I have a margarita, please?'" blushed Cariad, fluttering her eyelashes at him.
Damned girls, thought Ted. He almost wore his hand out giving Cariad a spanking after that one, a public one, knickers down around her ankles while the other girls watched on enviously.
Then it was off to the shops to pick up the ingredients. As the rather cute checkout girl smiled at him in a very obedient way, he reflected that it was strange how the spankings don't seem to make the girls any better behaved. He wondered aloud how often the checkout girl got spanked, who merely blushed and giggled nervously as she dropped his change on the floor.
Such a girl always put a spring in Ted’s step, and it was a cheery, happy, horny Ted that knocked on Miss Gonzales' door, confidently walking in without waiting for an answer. She was practicing her backhand, and an old red blazer on a coatstand was getting a thorough caning. Ted avoided being prodded by her backswing, and told her to sit down. She did so, a light flush appearing in her cheeks.
She was wearing her usual crisp white blouse, a knee-length black skirt that had a dangerous slash down the side, and bare legs down to a pair of calf-length black boots. Ted approved. He had not seen her with those boots before, but that wasn’t what caught her attention. The way her soft brown skin contrasted with the white blouse was astonishing, and he almost grabbed hold of her hair there and then for a deep and rough forced blowjob. Fortunately, Ted was a man who was able to control himself.
"You appear to be drooling," cooed Miss Gonzales. "You must be looking forward to these margaritas."
"Something like that," Ted replied.
"You got everything you need?" she oozed.
"I have everything you could possibly desire," smiled Ted, who then turned away from her. He didn't want to get into an innuendo-war, because the more time he spent exchanging double-entendres, the less time she would be sucking his cock. He pulled a three-pound bag of salt from the bag and banged it on her desk.
"Umm. You just need a touch of salt around the rim of the glass, Mr Stoat," she said with a grin that turned into a smile, which mutated into a guffaw. "We're adding a dash of flavour to a small shot-glass drink, not gritting the nearest motorway."
Ted scowled at her, knowing that he would get his revenge.
"Take off your blouse and get on all fours on the desk," he said quietly.
"Why?" she said defiantly, already reaching for the first button automatically before stopping herself.
"I want to test the tequila."
Strangely, although this was quite true, it seemed to satisfy Miss Gonzales, so she removed her blouse without taking her eyes away from his, and then crawled up onto her desk. He placed a hand in the small of her back, and she arched obediently. She seemed to have a fondness for black this day – her bra was shiny black PVC, matching her boots. A delicate squeak from underneath her skirt seemed to suggest that she was wearing similar panties.
"Stay like that. Don't move."
"Yes, Mister Stoat," she replied.
He pulled out the tequila from the bag, unscrewed the top, and poured a little into the hollow of her back. She hummed appreciatively, but did not move. He leaned in, and lapped the strong tequila like a thirsty dog, getting a delicate aftertaste that was purely Miss Gonzales.
"Any good?" she asked rhetorically, as he sucked some of the stickiness from her skin, a hand resting on her backside.
"You can put your blouse back on," he declared. "This tequila is dashed good stuff."
Miss Gonzales undraped herself from the desk to stand with her chest three inches away from Ted’s, but made no sign that she was going to put any clothes back on. In fact, to Ted’s surprise, she reached into the waistband of her skirt, and removed it with a flourish, hurling it to the corner of the room as she looked deep into his eyes. Ted looked over at it, as it hit the coatstand and toppled it over with a smash.
“You… er… knocked over the coatstand there,” he said weakly. There was something about the woman that was different. She held up a single finger to her lips, looking at him as he stared at the fingertip, and then she bent the finger as if to point at the chair.
Without realizing what he was doing, Ted instinctively sat down. He looked up at Miss Gonzales, taking in the beauty of her posture. She stood bolt upright, but not in a ‘standing to attention’ way, this was more like a ‘making sure you know I’m confident’ way. The outfit helped the impression. Ted took several deep breaths as his eyes drifted over the tight black bra that pushed up her breasts, matched by a pair of discreet panties, normal and practical except for the material. The PVC reflected harsh light at him, making Miss Gonzales seem even more imposing.
Finally, for the first time in minutes, she spoke. “I never drink a margarita fully clothed,” she purred.
Ted found words from his dry throat. “I-I’ll follow that tradition,” he said. “I’ll never drink a margarita while you’re fully clothed. This I vow.”
Miss Gonzales broke into a smirk. “You’re a funny man, Ted. You will be fun tonight.”
She turned, and felt his eyes watch her pert bottom as she strode over to his bag. She pulled out everything else he had bought – the Triple Sec, the lime, the blender, the glasses, and paused for a second before taking out the ginger. She smiled to herself.
Ted watched as Miss Gonzales dutifully made the margarita, slicing the lime while her brow furrowed cutely in concentration, before running a slice around the rim of each glass, as though she was softly running a finger around her lips. Next, she sprinkled some salt onto a leather folder, and forced the glasses onto it, face down.
“You need to make sure you have a salty rim,” she winked, pouring generous measures of the spirits into the blender, before turning it on for five (not four, not six) carefully counted seconds.
She took the cocktail to the edge of the desk, sitting down on the desk before pouring a measure of the mixture into each glass.
“Bottoms up,” she said, after handing Ted a glass.
Then it happened. Ted took a sip of his margarita, and without a moment’s pause, Miss Gonzales picked up her ruler and rapped him hard on the knuckles.
“Do not sip a margarita!” she glared.
“N-no,” replied Ted, downing his drink in one. His heart fluttered, he felt nervous, but the margarita was delicious. “P-please, Miss Gonzales, may I have another?”
Miss Gonzales downed her own drink, took Ted’s empty glass, and then swiftly poured two more shots. “Of course you may,” she cooed. She looked down at him as he emptied the next glass, and the one after that.
“My my, you’re a thirsty one tonight,” she told him after his eighth shot in as many minutes. “Good job you weren’t planning on getting erect tonight.”
In his half-drunken haze, Ted blinked at her, before getting her into focus, smiling weakly as he saw the light in her eyes. “I can get erect, if I have to.”
Miss Gonzales slipped off the desk, and picked up her cane. “Then do it.”
Ted liked a challenge, so got to his feet, unzipped his trousers, and took out a rather impressive half-erect penis. Miss Gonzales’ eyes widened as she looked at his hand grasp it, and begin to rub up and down the shaft.
“Strip off, Tedward, I want to see you naked.”
“I can’t, not with my hands full, can I?”
Miss Gonzales had a novel solution. She stepped in front of him, and cupped his testicles with her left hand, her French-cut fingernails tickling the soft skin. Her right hand peeled Ted’s fingers away from his manhood, and replaced them, gently moving up and down.
Ted shrugged, oblivious to the power she had, and began to unbutton his shirt, kicking off his shoes at the same time. She dug a thumbnail gently into the top of his cock, and the nails of her first and second fingers pushed into the underside. Ted gasped, and quickly unbuttoned his slacks, pushing them down as the pressure – and his firmness – increased.
“Okay,” he snapped when fully undressed. “I can take over now.”
“Hands on your head,” she said, with a firmness in her voice that he had never heard from her before. His hands duly snapped to the top of his head, interlacing the fingers.
“What now?” he asked.
She took her hands away from him, put her hands behind her own back, and kissed him tenderly on the chest, planting her lips on the rough shag-pile of chest-hair, before finding a nipple. Ted purred, his eyes closing, his cock now fully hard, the margaritas relaxing him.
And then she bit him.
“Yooooow!” he yelped, starting to step back before realizing she wasn’t going to let go. Her teeth clenched harder on his left nipple, she twisted her head to look up at him, and smiled malevolently. Only when his hands left his head did the smile stop.
“Ngeep nose nhands nere,” she snarled.
“Y-yes, ma’am,” replied Ted, putting his hands back on his head.
Satisfied she was fully in control – and more importantly, that Ted knew it too – she released her grip on him and stepped away from him. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, took a deep breath, and said quietly. “Keep your hands on your head. Place your cock on the desk.”
Ted bowed his head, and shuffled forwards. The desk was the perfect height for him, and there was no crouch or stretch as he placed his shaft flat on the desk. It curled up at the end, and he worried for a moment that this might be punished. He idly remembered the times that Miss Gonzales had placed her tender lips around the head, and wondered if this was the same woman before him now. He twitched at the memory.
WHACK!
“OWWWW!” grunted Ted, as he looked down in disbelief. Miss Gonzales had rapped the head of his cock hard with a two-foot ruler. “What was that for, you little cunt?”
WHACK!
“The first stroke,” explained Miss Gonzales, “was because your cock moved off the desk. The second was because this evening, I do not appreciate being called a ‘cunt’. And this…”
She brought the ruler down again, and Ted shuddered in anticipation… but the stroke did not hit him. Instead, it slapped the desk two inches in front of the sore head.
“… is because I’m an evil bitch. If you had a bigger cock, that would have hurt. Shame you got just a little tiddler, eh? But,” she sighed with a little disappointment in her voice, “you DID move your cock again.”
WHACK!
“NYAHHH!” yelped Ted.
“Take the pitcher of margaritas,” ordered Miss Gonzales, scraping her fingernails across Ted’s rear, “and pour us a glass each. Do not spill a drop, and keep your pathetic cock on the desk. Understand?”
“Yes,” gasped Ted.
THWACK!
Ted jerked forwards as he felt the full force of her cane hit him square on the buttocks. “AAAAAAGH!”
“Yes, what?” asked Miss Gonzales.
“Y-yes, MA’AM,” stressed Ted.
THWACK!
“No need to shout,” purred Miss Gonzales as a tear left the edge of Ted’s eye. She leaned forwards, licked it from his cheek, then stepped back and cocked her arm again. THWACK!
“P-please, no more,” Ted whimpered.
She picked up the ruler and whacked the tip of his cock again, pointing out that it moved again. It was harder and redder than Miss Gonzales had ever seen it.
“I-I… my cock always twitches when I want to cum,” explained Ted as he handed her a margarita, before downing his own.
“Then masturbate. But ask me when you want to cum.”
Ted nodded, and gingerly moved his left hand to grab his cock. He was tempted to reach out to Miss Gonzales, hovering well within stroking distance, but chose not to. It did not take long. “Please, ma’am, may I cum?”
“No. Hands on your head.”
His cock felt like it was about to burst, but she turned her back on him, and walked around to her desk.
“I NEED to cum,” he said, knowing she was out of reach.
“Hit yourself with the ruler,” she said.
“What?”
“I’m not walking around there. You definitely don’t want to get me angry. So hit your little cock with the ruler.”
Ted picked up the ruler, placed his cock back on the desk, and then WHAPPED himself as hard as he could. He knew it wasn’t hard enough, and didn’t even wait for Miss Gonzales to comment, before WHAM!
“Yooooow!” he yelped.
“Good. Now masturbate again. Do not cum.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
This went on for a few minutes, but Miss Gonzales kept herself busy. She talked to him, describing what she was doing.
“I don’t know where you got your information,” she began, “but ginger is not part of a margarita. I think you must have asked one of the girls about it. You should know never to trust a horny little slut. No, you may not cum. Hit yourself harder. [“Ooow!”] Don’t whimper, you weak-willed piece of shit. I suspect that the girls knew of something I quite like to do. What you do is carve a finger of ginger into the shape of a smooth plug. Make sure you leave a little handle at the bottom so you can pull it out. No, you may not cum. I’ve made two, because I love these little bastards.”
Miss Gonzales peeled down her PVC panties, ignoring Ted’s widening eyes as she pulled out a sturdy butt-plug. She took the smaller of the two sticks of ginger, and placed the head of it inside her, before pushing the rest of it in with the heel of her hand. She peeled up her panties again, and picked up the other stick, her eyes already widening with the rush as the ginger rubbed against her insides.
“Your turn,” she smiled, approaching Ted.
---------------------------------------------
Ted looked at the alarm clock. He had been trying to get back to sleep for two hours, but still couldn’t manage it. He had never had a hangover as bad as that, his whole body ached, but that was not what kept him awake. His mind raced with the thought of what he would do to her, next time he was in control.
Thursday, June 22:
Dear God, my head hurts. Where did he get that shameful excuse of tequila? At least it's some consolation, Stoat ought to be feeling much worse than I am right now.
Very small consolation.
Well, at the very least, last night should have served as an excellent lesson for the girls. It's doubtful that Stoat was aware of it, but the girls were all instructed to watch what happened last night as a lesson in how to take control. I can be quite good at it when I want to, but I'll have to let him do as he wants next time, so the poor man's fragile ego won't be too bruised.
Heh. Unlike certain other parts of him.
From the desk of
Mr. Arbuthnot Squiffington-Smythe (with an ‘e’)
Teacher (With A Tawse)
Bachelor Of Naughtiness, Doctorate Advanced General Excellence
Dear Tiddles,
Thank you for your comments, which are entirely in-line with some thoughts that arose in my conversation with a pupil during an intense session of private training recently.
We were taking the opportunity of Midsummer Night to do some serious work on her Bottom in advance of a much-anticipated performance this summer. I (for 'twas I) said to cariad (for 'twas she) that the school could benefit (for 'tcould) from a well-trained pet, duly collared, who could unite the affections of staff and pupils. I further suggested that this pet could delight with her animal noises, at which point my pupil asked 'Do you mean me? ow!'
In any case, I shall forward your note to the Edmaster. I feel sure he is likely to offer you a visiting fellowship. We have never knowingly turned away an obliging pussy.
Yours etc.,
Buffy (without an 'e')
July 1st
Well, diary, I decided to take the bull by the horns, particularly after the unpleasantness of the previous week. I took Miss Gonzales out to a fancy schmantzy restaurant.
"L'Herpès de la Prostituée," it was called. Oh yes. They had napkins and everything. I wore a comfortable shirt and slacks – for slacks are always comfortable – and she wore her usual sparkling outfit. White blouse, starched to the point of rigidity, with the top four buttons undone. Beneath the waist, she wore an above knee-length skirt that showed off her lickable knees and sumptuous calves. On this day, she covered her legs with slutty fishnet stockings, snaking down to black toeless stilettos. She was, in a word, delectable. Just by walking in the door on my arm, she had made me the most envied man in the restaurant.
It seemed that she got the better of me last time, because she made the first move. For that reason, and that reason alone, I didn’t want to hang around this time. The eager, lucky waiter handed Miss Gonzales a menu, which I took from her before she could open it. "I'll be ordering for Miss Gonzales," I told him.
Miss Gonzales appeared to appreciate my opening gambit, and put her hands close together, flat on the table, thumbs touching, as if to give her consent her consent. I smiled at her, and turned to the waiter. "She will have the gazpacho soup. I would like the Chicken Marengo, please. She will have a white wine; I’ll have a pint of Guinness with a straw. Thank you."
"A wise choice, sir," said the waiter, and shimmered away.
"So what now, sir?" asked Miss Gonzales, biting her bottom lip. I leaned across the table, and took her little hands in mine. I placed them carefully, flat on the table, about a foot apart.
"You are not going to move your hands from there," I said, after a moment’s pause.
"Why?" she asked.
"Because I don't want you to."
"Oh," she replied, wrinkling her nose. "Okay."
Her chest heaved a little, though that may have been my imagination. What I can say for certain is that when I rubbed my leg against hers, she closed her eyes as she realised that she could not slap me away. She parted them a little, and I kicked off my right shoe, letting my socked toes spider up past her knee, and onto the inside of her left thigh.
"Nice weather," she said between gulps. I looked down and noticed the tips of her fingers were white with the pressure of keeping them in place.
My foot went on, and I wiggled my second and third toes through her panties, but across her pussy lips. She jumped, but her hands stayed in position. She mouthed the words "you bastard" at me, which proved I was doing the right thing. If she called me a twat then I would know she was enjoying it.
I moved my big toe so that it pressed upon her clit, and then made my leg shudder, as though I was stretching it first thing in the morning. Miss Gonzales gave a horrified smile, her back arched, and she leaned herself forwards, pressing her cunt against my foot.
I leaned across the table as much as I could. "You need to ask me."
"Ask you what, you evil twat?"
"You need to ask me to cum."
"Noooo," she mewed. "If I do that, you'll just say 'no'."
I pretended that I was offended. "Moi? Do something like that? I might say 'yes'. Try me, when you have to. It’ll be a while before my leg gets tired."
She pursed her lips and glared at me, which spurred me onwards. My toes wriggled and my ankle twisted and my knee and hip jiggled, never letting her get a second's respite. She spasmed a few times, jumping off her seat once or twice, squeaked and purred constantly, elbows lifting a little, but the hands stayed firmly on the table.
She looked down at her empty plate. "C-can I cum?"
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the waiter approaching our table. He wasn't quite close enough, so I politely asked her to repeat herself.
"Oooo, you cloth-eared git, please can I cum?" she asked, a little louder. The waiter was just out of earshot of this, but he would hear my answer.
"No," I said, and withdrew my foot before the waiter asked if my chair was comfortable.
"You goddamn fucking swine," she hissed, looking straight at me, ignoring the poor waiter. He left the soup and the chicken on our plates, and fled.
I put my shoe back on, and smiled sweetly. "What's wrong, honey blossom? Careful you don't make a scene. Have a taste of your soup, it might calm you down."
Miss Gonzales shuddered for a moment. She opened her mouth, as if to say that she didn't have a spoon, and then her expression changed to one of defiance. She raised an eyebrow, smiled sweetly, and stood up, keeping her hands on the table. She bent over, and jutted out a tongue, to lap at the soup. I almost applauded at her bravery. She knew that the entire restaurant would be looking at her: half of them had been since she walked in the door, of course. If I hadn’t been with her, I would have done the same.
“Sit down for a moment, please,” I said quietly. She did so, but only after she kissed the napkin that was beside her plate, leaving a soupy pout upon it.
I stood up, walked around to her, and quickly undid the next two buttons on her blouse. The first button was not important, but the second was just below the underside of her bosom – if she leaned forwards now, I would get a dramatic eyeful, and she may just pop out completely.
“Enjoy your meal,” I smiled.
Miss Gonzales snarled at me in an exceptionally cute way. "You really know how to get a girl going, you know that?"
"I try," I replied, wearing my best angelic smile.
She sighed, stood again, and leaned over to taste some more of the soup. I must admit, diary, I was not subtle. When I saw the cleavage that emerged, I chirped a hearty "oh my" and went on to suggest to her how I would like to suck and bite on those glorious nipples..
She ignored me as best she could, she had been told to put her hands on the table, and that is what she was doing. She hadn't been asked to participate in rude conversations. Even so, the flush that came to her cheeks was quite delightful.
"Your drinks, sir," said the waiter, who had crept up out of nowhere. He peered with more than a little curiosity at my partner, and asked me if anything was wrong. "If madam has two broken wrists, I'm sure I could feed her," he said helpfully.
Miss Gonzales sat back down, just in time to see me beam with delight. "You know, sorry, I didn't catch your name."
"Derek," said the waiter.
"You know, Derek, I have a confession. Miss Gonzales could use her spoon if she wanted to, but she's choosing not to. No need to ask why. No, the spoon’s not dirty, but Miss Gonzales certainly is. You should see what that girl can do with a clean spoon, it’d make your eyes water. But if you have time, I think she would appreciate being spoon-fed by a waiter such as yourself. I'll make it worth your while."
Miss Gonzales blinked at me, as Derek reached for her spoon.
"Come on, Marie," I urged. "Open wide. Let the choo-choo train get into the station."
Derek, bless him, got into the spirit of the occasion, but preferred the idea of a plane to a train. "NeeeEEEeoooowwww!" he said, as the spoon he was holding did an elegant series of banks and turns. At the last moment, Miss Gonzales closed her mouth, and a little soup splashed onto her cleavage.
"Can you mop that up, please Derek? I do apologise, I think Miss Gonzales knows she is a naughty little girl, don't you?"
My smile broadened, and I nodded at my partner to speak.
"Yes," she said with gritted teeth, "I'm a naughty little girl."
"She seems like it," said Derek, taking a napkin and professionally dabbing the soup-stained skin. He looked, and he touched, but he wasn’t inappropriate. "NeeeeEEEooooowwww!"
This time, Miss Gonzales opened her mouth, and the plane landed inside. More planes followed over the next few minutes: her tongue was quite the busy airport runway. I noticed that she took a deep, suggestive breath each time she sucked the spoon clean, never taking her eyes from me for a second.
"I need to go to the toilet," she said, as the bowl was emptied. She wiggled the fingers on the table.
"Shall I bring madam a larger bowl?" asked Derek.
"No, it's ok," I said to Derek. "Thank you very much, you've been most helpful."
He shuffled away, slightly stooped over, with a tenner in his top pocket. Miss Gonzales had this effect on people, usually men, but occasionally women too. There was one big-breasted Canadian woman who was quite taken with her, and some of the girls at Slothlands seem to appreciate her charms too.
"I wasn't joking,” she said as I enjoyed my reverie, “I really need to go to the toilet. And I'm not going here."
Be fair to the girl, she had her limits. Whilst I would like to make her piss herself right there in the restaurant, it wouldn't be seemly. In any case, it was time for my big gesture: I pulled out a small box, about the size of a ring.
"You're p-proposing?" she asked.
"No, no," I said. "As the old saying goes, 'Why buy the cow, when you can fuck Miss Gonzales for free?' No." I opened the box. "This is what you must wear if I let you go to the little girls' room."
She peered into the box. She seemed to know instantly what it was, but couldn't stop herself from saying. "Is that a clit clamp?"
She kept her hands on the table while I held it up for her to look at - it was like a small pair of metal tweezers, topped by a bee-sized black plastic nubbin.
"Well spotted. But this one vibrates, hence the big blob on the top. You'll need to take off your panties, of course, unless you want it your underwear rubbing against the clamp.”
"Yes, sir. No, sir,” she said, taking the clamp, and walking away, blushing.
I smiled, pulled out the remote control from my jacket pocket, and got it ready. She returned after a moment, walking slightly strangely, sitting carefully on her seat, and putting her hands on the table. She looked at me with a shaky smile on her face, and there was a little less arrogance in those dark brown eyes.
“Are you ok?” I asked, half-seriously. If she was genuinely having a bad time, I would have stopped myself from what I was about to do. Fortunately, her sarcastic reply doubled my resolve.
“Am I ok, you ask? Well, maybe if someone clamped your fucking clit, you might know wha-ah-uhhhhhhhYAAAAAAAAAA!”
I pulled out the small remote control box and placed it on the table, between her hands, daring her to move to take it.
“You. Are. So. Fucking. Dead,” she winced.
“Quite an intense vibration, don’t you think?” I said. “I tried it on my nipple, yes I did, and it stung quite vividly. Goodness knows what you must be going through. Would you like me to turn it off?”
She nodded her head vigorously. The entire restaurant was looking closely at her, not knowing whether she was aroused or in severe pain. Only she knew what the balance was. My guess was that it was about even. I picked up the box, and turned it off. She shook it off, wiggling in her chair.
“I need to go to the little boy’s room,” I said. “Please excuse me.”
I stood, waited for her to snort a derisive comment about me being a little boy, and then I pressed the other button on the box.
“Yoooow!!” she yelped, getting to her feet and jumping six inches in the air in one elegant movement. I pocketed the box, and smiled smugly to myself as I headed to the toilet.
Derek was waiting outside when I got out. “Umm. Is she your slave?”
“No, she’s her own, independent woman, part one. She just humours my desires now and then, and I reciprocate.”
“C-can I join in?”
“That depends. Would you be willing to have her hit your cock with a ruler?”
“No,” said Derek after a moment’s thought.
I pulled out the box, pointed in the direction of Miss Gonzales, who was sitting innocently at her table, and Derek and I watched her leap up again, swear loudly, then swear quietly at the people on neighbouring tables. “Well, I’m sorry. Because I think I love this woman, and it’s only the fact that I am willing to let her hit my manhood with sticks that gives me the right to fill her clit with a few milli-volts.”
“You should get a job writing greetings cards. ‘Love is…’. That sort of thing.”
“You hit the nail on the head there,” I said, wondering if I would get a nail on my head next time Miss Gonzales became feisty.
The end.
Dear diary,
Well, it's been a long time since I've written here!
My visit to the JD memorial bar and rest home for Retired Heads went really well-. I don't remember much of it, save the first day when I met my old College tutors! My God-they can drink!
I have no idea of the state of the school. With Squiffy left in charge anything could have happened! The buildings appear intact...let's hope the girls are too...
Ted's Diary - July 11th
Yah-har. Ed is back, just in time for the exams. Gah, I don't like these exams, the girls get so nervous, I'm mopping up wee at all hours of the day and night.
Ted