Slothlands Academy

Thursday, July 13

I'm not sure if our illustrious headmaster realizes how much has happened in the time he's been away "resting". Mostly, because nothing has happened. The girls, with no headmaster stalking the halls, have done absolutely nothing. In fact, two of them disappeared for several days, then refused to tell where they'd been.

Stoat and I made the most of the headmaster's "rest", and I'm still walking slower than normal because of it. One-Track Mind Ted. If it wasn't for those luscious brown eyes, I'd never have given him a second look. Fortunately, we're progressing in his ability to make a proper margarita.

I do hope that discipline will be tighter now that the headmaster has returned. Honestly, these girls aren't learning a thing and they absolutely refuse to do their assignments anymore; you'd think they like getting spanked.

Hm. On second thought, that could explain a lot. Perhaps I should speak with the headmaster about some new punishments.

Saturday 15th July

Ahh, that Miss Gonzales has been running to the headmaster again. Such an affectionate wigglie in her walk. She says she's going to suggest some new punishments - I might ask Ed if he wants punishments for the teachers as well. It takes me a good half hour to get the stains out of the girls' chairs after an intensive lesson with Miss Gonzales. I might ask for a cloth soon, my tongue is getting most tired.

As for Miss Gonzales, watch this space...

Ted Stoat

Hmmm

I found Marie's old journal the other day. Really! If a girl leaves things lying around in a triple-locked Chubb "safette Mk 3" -the one without the 60,000 volt charge running through it-what does she expect? And she didn't hide it particularly well...

I naturally glanced through it and came across in interesting snippet-perhaps Ted's idea for teacher punishment could be realised something like this:

REPORT FROM UN OBSERVER:

Marie, along with many other locals, worked at the construction site that had suddenly been started in the semi-jungle next to the wide meandering river where for generations there had been a prosperous village.
She welcomed the change as she had an intense desire to better herself and looked down at her relatives who were content to live out their years in the quiet surroundings of squalor that was the village.
Marie had voiced her opinions loudly and frequently until one day the village elders had met and decreed that for the good of all she should decease and get on with her job. They added that if she continued they would have no choice but to sentence her to a public punishment. The public was all affected by her and should have the chance to witness the consequences. After all, she choose to still live in the village as her meagre wage didn’t allow her to move into the workers’ huts that had sprung up next to the site.
Marie was furious, believing that she was superior to the elders and trusting that her lithe body and smouldering eyes could work their usual magic and get her out of any situation.
She was wrong. The elders wanted nothing more than to be permitted to sit around in the sun all day smoking and gently ridiculing the activities of the white shirted foreigners who sweated on the building works. They had to bow to local pressure however and so had Marie brought before a village meeting one day after work hours.
Marie stood disdainfully to one side, flinging her long black hair from side to side and picking at her finger nails. The sight of her nails, broken and black with dirt did nothing to help her mood.
When asked once again if she would agree to please keep her thoughts private, Marie lost her temper and flew at the old men in front of her. Her fists clenched, spit flying from her mouth she verbally attacked them. As she did so she provided these worthy men with an enticing view of her cleavage as her breasts tried in vain to escape from her stained white blouse. Her short blue skirt swinging, she finally finished and turned her back on them and stood there tapping one foot on the ground and gnawing at one nail.
Their verdict was clear. To Marie’s amazement there and then she was forcibly dragged over to a hastily erected frame by a couple of the village lads who were able to easily subdue her with their work hardened muscles.
“We have had enough. This village is not here solely for you, Marie. There are many others who enjoy living here and it ought to be enough for you. We have repeatedly warned you about your actions, now you pay the price! You will be publicly whipped and banished from the village.”
Marie froze, surely they weren’t serious? These old men with their pipes and dull old eyes. They didn’t have the balls!
“Crap on you old fools! You have no power over me! Empty threats, that’s all you have!”
she blustered and was horrified as her wrists were bound in front of her and the bindings tied to a rope that was looped over a pulley at the apex of the A frame. Her ankles were pulled apart and fastened to the legs, Marie falling forwards until her hips met the cross piece. She certainly made a fine erotic sight in the strong sunlight. Her long legs shook as she tried to escape and her skirt rode up to reveal short flashes of her round honey coloured bum cheeks and her miniscule red g-string that she wore. Her blouse had become transparent with the sweat pouring off her and her large nipples swelled beneath the fabric, clearly visible as they danced and jiggled.
One of the elders, who was considerably more fit than the others, stepped forward. He pulled Marie’s blouse loose from her skirt and tied it around her just below her breasts leaving most of her back bared. He undid her skirt and pulled it away with a theatrical flourish. Marie gasped as the sun shone full onto her. Her body gleamed in the light and her tiny string did little to protect her modesty. With her legs held apart and her buttocks pushed out the villagers could see her pouting lips and puckered bum hole clearly through the wet nylon. Many of the young men shuffled awkwardly as they experienced throbbing hard-ons at the view. Several of the women half turned away, surprised at their own reactions.
The elder lifted his arms. All talk ceased as he repeated the penalty to which Marie had been sentenced.
“A minimum of twenty strokes of the whip to be applied with force to the area of the back and legs down to behind the knees. It has been a long time since this village last witnessed a judicial whipping. Let us hope that it will be years to the next”
Marie was uncertain of what to expect. She knew it would hurt, that was the point of it. Nothing had prepared her for the shock of the first stroke. It drove into her back like the cut of a hot knife and for a moment she was quiet and still. Then she stiffened and wailed at the top of her voice. The villagers stood silent and all eyes were on the thin raised red welt that appeared on her upper body, stretching diagonally down from one shoulder blade.
The whip whistled down again and struck with a loud crack six inches below the first stripe. Marie again yelped and flexed her body. The male witnesses licked their dry lips in anticipation of the next blow. Marie’s lips were far from dry. Her mouth ran with saliva and her sex ran with arousal as she reacted to the exposure and unexpected pleasure of showing her intimate reactions to the men.
The punisher showed that he had much experience in wielding the whip, although he had seldom been called upon to demonstrate on such a target. The angry stripes marched in parallel lines down Marie’s back and he tensed himself for the first strike to her undulating backside. He waited until she stopped moving and listened as she groaned, fearing what was to come. The whip hissed back and then struck out at the firm flesh. The men sighed as one at the sound of the whip echoed out. Marie clenched her bum and stood up on tiptoe as far as the ropes allowed. She rocked up and down, her young muscles tensing and for those with good sight, her excited vagina sending out a thin thread of fluid that ran down the inside of her thigh. She was hurting. Oh god, she was hurting! But despite that or maybe because of that, Marie felt more turned on than she had ever been before. She imagined that she could see through the mens’ eyes and marvelled at her body there on display for all to see. She saw the marks highlighting the curve of her buttocks and saw the tiny panties that effectively hid nothing.
Again and again the whip steamed down onto her. Ten lines could be counted, all angled more or less the same.
A voice called out for a rest period, probably as much for the transfixed onlookers as for Marie. She was left bound to the whipping frame but was given a cool drink of water while the women dabbed a soothing ointment on her wounds marvelling at the resilience of her skin as they did so. Two of them held up a blanket so that others could pull down the sodden string between the girl’s legs and wash and dry her, the gentle rubbing bringing her to the brink of climax. The older woman in attendance took pity on Marie and after giving her a dry cloth to bite, fingered her to bring on the relief and distract her from her pain. Her own panties they then cut away, replacing them with a tie-sided pair that were dry and comfortable.
The women were called away and Marie prepared for the final part of her punishment.
The lashes rained down again, this time angled the opposite way bringing fierce pain at the point of intersection. This actually proved to be a little more than she could handle and Marie cried out for the blows to stop, her proud demeanour giving way to that of a sobbing child.
This greatly pleased the elders as they believed that their point had been made for the entire village to see. They crowded around the bound girl and exclaimed over the burning marks on her back, bottom and thighs.
“Should we indeed stop at this point?” asked one.
“No. The penalty was for twenty strokes and there are six left to go. I say continue”
The discussion could have carried on well into the night. The old men were used to debate but unused to having the responsibility of a young girl hanging by her arms in the hot sun cooking slowly, her body bruised and beaten.
The women who had seen to Marie’s injuries earlier took matters into their own hands and cut her down. The eldest, the one who had deftly used her fingers on her, led Marie over to a seat in the shade. She called for attention and proclaimed that the girl had had enough of the whip for that day but that clearly the letter of the law should be honoured, so with permission from the elders she intended to end the session with giving Marie a final thorough spanking on her bottom. This, she said, would end the sentence satisfactorily and would most certainly be a further humiliation for one who had been so proud.
Marie was turned over the woman’s knees in the time honoured position for a spanking. The last of the setting sun’s rays shone through the shade of the tree above and further striped her body. Marie pressed her knees together as the hard calloused hand swept down to land with a leathery smack on her cheeks. It hurt a lot more than she had expected as her bottom was crossed with welts from the whipping earlier.
It appeared that this particular woman was well used to dealing with bad girls. Thinking about it, Marie realised that she had four daughters of her own all of whom had been present and all of whom were now sympathising with each smack of the hand.
Each and every one of the four had been given the same treatment and knew what it felt like as the bum grew hotter but the inside of the thighs grew cooler with the drying sweat. They knew that Marie wanted to push her bottom higher and higher and to open her legs for that final assault that would bring about that hot, confusing explosive feeling.
Gradually the whole of her seat turned an angry scarlet and Marie whimpered in shame at the comments she could hear from the villagers.
“Has she been done well?” asked one of them.
“Aye” came the response “good and properly!”
“Look at that arse! I could light my pipe on it! She’ll not sit for a time”
“If I had my way, sitting wouldn’t be an option. I’d have her on all fours, that bum in the air just dying for me to take her. Better yet, we could tie her bent over the frame with her wrist and ankles together and all take her in turns! That old girl there could get another fingerful and spread it over her arse, that’d be soothing and cool!”
“Cool you say. You’re getting old! Mine still comes out hot!” There was much laughter at that.
The elders were invited over for a final inspection. There could be no doubt that full punishment had been given and that Marie was far from the girl she had been at the start of it.
She was let up. She couldn’t stand the thought of staying in the village so hurried off into the gathering gloom, uncertain of her destination and forgetting the basic rule of the village-don’t go out alone at night!




I knew Marie had an interesting background!

.

Lies! All lies! Every last bit of it!

*Miss Gonzales looks around hastily, grabs a match and runs to her safe.

Edmasters Log.

After the recent ups and downs we appear to have lost some of our pupils. What a great pity! I can only hope that they find contentment and a good education elsewhere.

Farewell chattel and seababy and Julie. May your god walk with you.

So! We need to get back to work!

Role Call:

Who's still with us? Who wants to be?

Perhaps it's time Slothlands becomes a co-ed institution? I rather suspect Miss Gonzales would be tickled to have some male students in addition to the female students.

Dear HeadMaster Ed:

I am writing you to apply for entrance to you school. I realize that I will be coming into the second term of the school but I hope that will not be a problem.

I was, until recently, attending Miss Ivana Humpalots Instituon for (Wayward) Girls. Due to a series of cir cum stances beyond my control, for example being found in the linen closets with the gym teacher who was tied up at the time.. busy man that he is. I mean how that is my fault? I found I needed to attend a new school. Your name was referred to me via the bathroom wall at The Gilded Ostrich.

I have very high marks as I am willing to do whatever it takes to maintain them. Extra curricular activities are also something I excel at. Some of my favorite subjects are Oral, Arts and Crafts such as knot work, Medieval studies (famous dungeons ect), and Shop appreciation (we learned a lot about keeping small vibrating motors running). I will send on transcripts as soon as I have time to (change my marks) obtain them from the school.

One other thing which I hope we can work out is the matter of tuition. At my last institution I helped cover the cost of my tuition by tying down some of the richer girls and forcing them to hand over their lunch money. I also helped in the library. I liked the library but I found the uniform with its short skirt a little hampering to do some of my work. I was frequently asked to climb up the ladder to get down or reshelf the books. I also found, that for some reason some of the male faculty just couldn’t decide which books they wanted. I would frequently get sent back up and down the ladder while they waited at the bottom because they kept changing their mind.

I hope to hear from you soon and if you hear any reports of me eating chocolate and mixing martinis in my room, I wish to state now it is entirely unfounded.

Best Regards

Widget.

Ohhhhh - I think I have nearly mastered walking up to the main entrance on these cobbles, I guess is was all those hours I spent in the gym last term.

I wonder who is going to be here - I heard rumours that some of the girls had passed out or was that gone down, however I am certainly up for another term.

Dear Head Master,

It has come to my attention that the world standard of trolling is reaching crisis proportions. I believe that if you were to approach the UN funding would be made available for the development of a troll curriculum.

cariad

Widget,

Having reviewed your application, I am delighted to inform you that Slothlands will throw wide it's doors for you You in turn must throw something wide open (just how short was that skirt?)

*note to self* Buy new library steps-tall set.

Btw-I should be careful with the protection racket-Miss Gonzales has that pretty well sewn up and will not take kindly to you trying to take over her turf.

If you should wish to try-we have all been trained in first aid.

cariad.

Trolls huh?

In my day we used to hunt 'em down and fry their little arses. *sighs*

New subject for the curriculum? I'll write to OFFSPANK and see.

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by maddie

Perhaps it's time Slothlands becomes a co-ed institution? I rather suspect Miss Gonzales would be tickled to have some male students in addition to the female students.

---

Male students! humph pfft and Hmm.

Get back to me when the voices in your head have decided.

I've known Miss Gonzales for four weeks, and we've been fucking for the last three.

Ah, I do apologise, I think I've missed a bit of the backstory there, but I got your attention, didn't I? I'll go back a few steps. My name is Ted, Ted Stoat if you must, and I'm a youngish 35 year-old caretaker at a girls' college called Slothlands. Don't worry, it's not that kind of story; I don't go near the inmates, not even the Minxiest of them, even though they are all over eighteen and delectable. It's a teacher who is the key to this saucy tale.

Miss Gonzales joined the staff four weeks ago, a fresh-faced, brown-eyed, taut-bodied, 28 year old teacher of Current Affairs and General Studies, and it was lust at first sight. Right from the start, she showed that she was a kinky soul, and although I prefer to be the strong man, it was pleasant submitting to her occasionally over a margarita or two. Or, more accurately, under a margarita or five. That girl has a thing about tequila. The last time she was feisty was yesterday, when she'd shown me her two favourite vibrators in the staff room, and taunted me, bragging that "Men can't always keep up with women, can they? These plastic heroes wouldn't get soft, drunk, headaches, or cum in their pants."

As much as I enjoyed submitting to her, I found that dominating her was much more satisfying, and I felt it was about time I made it official, hopefully involving a significant romantic gesture. I got the impression that Miss Gonzales would appreciate a gesture. With that in mind, I'd 'borrowed' the vibrators from her bag when she wasn't looking, knowing they would be key to any gesturing that I'd be doing.

After cracking open a walnut with the larger one, and using the smaller one to stir my tea, I paused for thought. I really didn't know why she needed all those toys, surely any red-blooded man or... umm... whatever-coloured-blood woman would pounce on this woman if she clicked her fingers or hitched up her skirt. This made me think - how could I prove to her that she didn't need such a toy?

I bribed Ed, the headmaster, to tell me her home address. Initially, he said that under no circumstances could he tell me such confidential information, but when I said that I'd check to see if she had any latex underwear, he soon complied.

I turned up at her place at about six in the evening. Yes, it was a little early, but there was more chance of her being in her work clothes. It had been a hot, sticky day, and the thought of unpeeling her saturated see-through blouse was too tempting to resist.

"Oh," she said, when she answered. I handed her a bunch of flowers that Olive the florist had assured me would get into the boudoir of any young lady. Joy of joys, she was still dressed in her tight black skirt and damp white blouse that gave her a phenomenal hourglass shape. She was even wearing her strappy new fuck-me shoes, and her thick-rimmed glasses.

"Number one," I said. "A vibrator cannot give someone flowers."

She hadn't shut the door in my face, so I stepped inside, closing it behind me. She still seemed unprepared, poor thing, so I wrapped my hand around her waist and sharply pulled her to me, making sure I didn't squish the flowers. When she was close enough, with her breasts digging into my ribcage, I cupped her chin, pointed her mouth upwards, and planted a delicate kiss upon her lips.

"Number two. You can kiss a vibrator if you want to, but it won't kiss back."

"Mmmm," she purred, closing her eyes seductively and perching herself on tip-toe for another kiss. I held the back of her head steady this time, running my fingers through her jet-black hair as I pressed my lips against hers. She had such a soft, delicate pair of lips, unbelievable when you consider the docker-blushing language that came from them.

She unpeeled herself from me and led me upstairs by the hand. I thought of a possible reason number three - no vibrator could appreciate the sideways movement of a woman's ass as she walks up the stairs - but chose not to voice it.

"That's the bathroom, there's the bedroom, and this... this is the play room," she said, and I could hear the chiming sunniness in her voice. Inside were several large crates – she’d only moved in a week or two ago and was still unpacking everything - and a king-size bed, with no quilt, no pillows, no headboard, just a bedstead with a firm mattress and a coversheet.

"I've not thought how best to adapt the bed yet. Care to try it out, soldier?"

I did, and I didn't. If I allowed myself to be restrained to the bed, I would have a whale of a time and end up with a sore but satisfied cock, but if I did that, I wouldn't be able to explain the other reasons, or do my gesture.

"No, Miss Gonzales. Why don't you lie down on the bed for me, huh? Face up."

She took a deep breath, slinked onto the mattress like a liquid, still fully clothed and shod, and stretched her arms to the head of the bed in anticipation.

Standing at the foot of the bed, I could see those shoes in a little more detail. "Are these things sturdy?" I asked, nudging her left foot with my knee. The solid jingle from the buckle answered my question, so I asked another. "Do you have any wrist cuffs, and a couple of small padlocks?"

She wriggled excitedly, and pointed to two of the smaller crates, barking at me to dig in and find something that will do. I did so, and was astonished at the array of disgusting things I found. Beads, balls, enema kits, clamps, everything you could think of and more. The gal could open her own little private sex shop, and still have enough to shackle a small village. I assumed and hoped desperately that she would use each and every item on the gals at Slothlands - there were impressive harnesses that would suit Cariad or Seababy perfectly, Julie and Jenny certainly deserved a pair of tight nipple clamps each, and firm leather collars with cuffs tightly attached that would keep Chattel's hands away from trouble. The sight of these cuffs appeared to be a sign that I was in the right area, and sure enough, I found a pair of steel wristbands. Perfect. I tossed them to Miss Gonzales, and looked for padlocks, finding a discreet little pair that would match the wristbands.

"Number three,” I purred, approaching her. “A vibe can't incapacitate you."

I can be rough when it suits me, and Miss Gonzales squeaked as I tugged her right wrist to her right ankle, and padlocked the cuff to the shoe. I repeated the exercise with the other side. She was forced to sit leaning forwards, but was otherwise fairly comfortable. I pulled the smaller vibe out of my pocket, and held it in front of her. She gasped aloud as I nudged her thin legs apart, stroking the vibe against one thigh, and my fingertips against the other thigh.

“Which do you prefer?” I asked, gently tickling the goosebumps, wanting to touch her so softly that she could feel the fingerprints.

“T-the fingertips,” she replied. She bowed her head and her glasses drooped down to the end of her nose. I pushed them back in place, and she smiled uncertainly at me. “That’s number four, isn’t it?” she added.

I beamed brightly, pulled her panties to one side, and carefully slid the vibrator inside her pussy.

"Number five. A vibe can't put itself inside you when you're all tied up like that."

She wiggled her bottom at the first wave of pleasure that the new vibrator brought.

"Truuuuue," she sighed, "but maybe the vibe is controlling you. Counter-number one: the vibe is so tempting for a flaccid half-man like you, ahhhh! It means you've more chance of making the poor gal cum."

The effect of her defiant speech was reduced by the moan of pleasure she gave halfway through. In response to the "half-man" comment, I reached in and turned the vibe's speed up a notch or two. It was so hard to grip, I may have put it on maximum by accident.

"Have you got a spreader bar?" I asked. "I'd quite like to see you in your full glory. Glistening cuntlips, bare thighs, buttcheeks nicely on display."

"You evil fucking bastard!" she snarled, before adding quietly, "There's one in the bottom crate."

Indeed there was. It was a vicious looking thing, too, black metal, studded, non-extendable or shrinkable, and two furry cuffs that had molded themselves to the shape of her ankles over the years. It was only about two feet long, though.

"Is this the biggest one you have?" I asked, looping the first cuff around her ankle, just above the buckle and her hand.

"I could say the same thing about you, sailor," she winked back, as I moved the second leg further apart with a sharp tug, to get the second cuff on.

This woman was almost begging me to angrily slap her, but I wouldn't. I could certainly get angry with Miss Gonzales, the woman was infuriating for twenty hours a day, but I would never hit her when I was angry. I wish the converse was true. I still have the bruise from when she slugged me after I spilt bleach on her cat.

"Miss Gonzales, you came up with a counter-reason before. I can think of another one. It's easier to walk with a vibrator inside you, than with a man inside you. Hell, I'd wager that you could step forward in that spreader bar."

"F-fffuck. Y-you..."

"That's the spirit," I said chirpily, and lifted her from the bed, landing her safely on her shoes, which were really starting to grow on me. I made sure the vibe was inside her, but it was a struggle to see properly, with the skirt getting in the way as she wriggled. "Too many clothes, I think," I declared, and unhooked her skirt from around her waist, folding it and placing it on the edge of the bed. "And those panties just look untidy," I added, sliding my hands into them, and then ripping them apart. Miss Gonzales purred at the sound of the tearing and the feeling of the breaking elastic being snapped around her thighs. Now that she was naked below the waist, I could see that the vibrator was sticking out an inch or so, so I duly shoved it back into her with the heel of my hand. It entered with a silent squish, and a cute squeal, before she went back to the gurgling obscenities.

"I wouldn't have noticed that the vibe wasn't in, if you hadn't been naked down there. That settles it: no more underwear for you without permission, understand?"

She didn't answer; she just squatted, rocking back and forth, careful not to lose her balance. The concentration in her face, the scrunching of her nose, the gentle panting, I took it all in. Then I remembered the question. I tugged her hair back until she was looking straight up at me.

"I-I can s-see up your n-nose," she burbled. That got a twist of her head and warning tug on her hair. "Ow-woo! No more underwear, I got it. Lemme go!"

I let go, took a step back and then crouched next to her. A single tear seeped down her cheek. She had been degraded by me before, but she had never been so submissive or vulnerable.

"Let me ask you again, and see what you say this time. You don't wear underwear unless you clear it with me first. Do you agree?"

"Y-yes," she nodded, hair flopping over her face as her head lolled forwards. There was a moment's silence, broken only by the incessant buzz-buzz of the vibrator.

I walked out of the bedroom, and took four paces down the corridor. I shouted to Miss Gonzales to make sure she could hear me, and then I told her to hobble to me. The angry shout that came from the room explained that there was no fucking way she could walk with her wrists tied to her ankles like that, but there was an excited lilt in her voice, and I could already hear a heavy tinkle and a thud as she moved one foot forwards.

“Number five,” I called, just to see what she said. “A vibrator couldn’t tell you that you’re not allowed to cum until I tell you to.”

“W-what?”

I stood patiently in the hallway as she clunked towards me, a hopeful grin on her face. The vibrator was halfway out of her. It was a phenomenal scene – she was still fully clothed above the waist, but below, I could see the dampness in her pussy from four yards away. I explained why I didn’t want her to cum. I said that it would be good for her if she learned some respect for me, if she gave up control of her life for me. She widened her eyes. My gesture was working, so I added the twist.

“Each time that vibrator drops out of your pussy, you’ll go a week without cumming after today.”

She looked up, and I could sense she was thinking desperately of non-erotic things. Unfortunately, I knew that she had as filthy an imagination as I, and anything can make me hard, from an empty DVD case to a bowl of Coco Pops. Poor thing. It would be fun training her. I unzipped my trousers, and took out my cock, which had been struggling to get free since Miss Gonzales entered the corridor.

“Look at me,” I urged. “Look at your prize.”

She did so, and licked her lips, bouncing heavily from one step to the next like a penguin, but when I stroked my cock and let it twitch at the sight of her, that was when the vibrator slipped out and clunked on the floor. She yelped at it, and cursed aloud, calling herself a stupid little slut.

“Oh dear,” I sighed, picking her up and putting her back two paces, carefully avoiding her mouth as she tried to lick me and bite my manhood. I collected the vibrator and told her to lick it clean, before placing it back into her pussy. It slid in even easier this time, and her muscles almost pushed it out straight away. “That’s a week.”

She was close already, but whimpered defiantly, not giving into temptation. She was still a proud woman, and I knew it would burn her up inside to beg me to cum. I continued to stroke myself. “My goodness, Miss Gonzales, I can’t wait until you get here. I’m going to ram this right down your throat, I’m going to tug every bit of you that I can tug, and slap all the bits I can’t. You’re going to be so goddamn tender after tonight, and that’s going to be when your cum restriction week will start. Oops! You dropped the vibrator again. That’s two weeks now, you poor little cumbitch.”

She was crying now, wholly frustrated and angry with herself. She gulped, held her posture as straight as she could, and penguinned her way to me. A foot from me, she dared to imagine herself as she would be, and opened her mouth. I reached out a hand and held her head steady, guiding her onto me. As soon as she took me in her mouth, she began to sob heavily, and I think they were tears of pride and relief.

“Drop the vibrator. We won’t need it anymore today, will we, Miss Gonzales?”

Two seconds after the instruction, she clenched her muscles and squired the vibrator out of herself, smiling and shaking her head, still heartily sucking me. I grinned, and I was tempted to let her continue, but it was time for the final gesture. I grabbed her hair, and eased her off me. She tried to lean forwards, hungry and desperate for more, but when I lowered her onto her back, she realised that I had something more exciting for her. Her ankles and wrists were in the air, I slithered under the bar, face down upon her.

“I’m going to fuck you now, Miss Gonzales.”

“Says who?”

“Two and a half weeks’ cum restriction. Want to go for more?”

“Counter-reason – a frigging vibrator wouldn’t put me on cum restriction,” she pouted. “YahOWooo!”

I chose that moment to slide myself into her. Without meaning to, she tugged her arms so the bar jammed gently in the small of my back, which made it hard to get a rhythm going. Fortunately, neither of us needed much space. I squeezed her breasts through her blouse as she wiggled under me, and my hips made wet slaps against her ass, and helped me pound into her stretched young pussy.

“P-pplease!” she urged. “I n-need to cum!”

I told her that I wanted her to beg for it. This order made her hips jerk angrily, and I almost lost control.

“I b-beg you, Ted, I have to cum n-now, I c-can’t h-hold it!”

My mouth was at her right ear. “When you say “pots”, you can cum. Understand?”

“W-hat?” she gurgled, head lolling backwards.

“Pots,” I explained. “It stands for ‘Property of Ted Stoat’. Because that’s what I want you to be.”

Her head snapped forwards, and she stared deeply into my eyes. “I am y-yours. I’m pots.”

“Then you may cum,” I said, ejaculating into her pussy, falling forwards and hugging her, elated that I was able to hold on long enough. A second later, her orgasm hit her, and she bucked twice, before beginning to shiver. The bar kept me in place, as though I was on a fairground ride,

“Don’t ever let go,” she said. Her glasses had fallen forwards to the end of her nose again.

“I won’t,” I replied, and nudged her glasses back in place with my chin, before kissing her on the lips.

“And sir?” she grinned, “You’re definitely better than that little vibrator.” She bit her lip, smiled cheekily, and continued, “But I’m not sure if you’re as good as the big vibrator. I’m gonna need more proof...”

The end.

Wow! =)

Smiles.youve outdone yourself this time love ,one of your best,purrsssssssssssss,loved it and your writing is amazing,Radi xxoxoxo

Tuesday, July 25:

The term hasn't even begun and already I've had to cane a couple students for daring to laugh at me. It's going to be a long term.

See, it all started the morning I ran out of Diet Coke. That, of course, was Ted's fault, but when I pointed it out to him, he threatened me with another week of CR. Anyway, I wasn't coherent enough as I dressed and put on a pair of underwear. BIG mistake.

I was stumbling down the hall toward the faculty dining room when Ted passed by. He pulled me into an empty classroom and gave me the most wonderful good morning kiss. Of course, being Ted, his hands started to roam and he quickly figured out I'd worn panties. His hand rested on my ass and he pulled away from me a bit. Well, sure enough, I was awake then. I tried to explain, but he wouldn't have any of it.

Next thing I know, he's pulling me by the arm into the courtyard, muttering something about teaching me to listen to him and take him seriously. I tried to explain that it was just that I was too sleepy, that if he'd deliver my Diet Coke, it wouldn't happen. He stopped dead in his tracks, in the middle of the courtyard, sat on a bench and threw me over his knees. He proceeded to lift up my skirt, pull it off me, stuff it in my mouth, and then gave me a rather long spanking. Naturally, it lasted just long enough for a couple of the students to pass by and notice. Ted glared at them and they scurried off, but I knew I'd have trouble with them later.

Sure enough, I was checking the equipment in my classroom when they passed by later. Ted had made me stick the panties in the front pocket of my blouse. "Lovely little handkerchief you have there, Miss Gonzales. Is it silk?" Followed by lots of giggling, of course.

I suppose, in retrospect, that chasing them down the hall with a cane wasn't the best way to handle the situation.

What a first day! After receiving my acceptance letter to Slothlands I was so excited. I was excited right up until I had figure out my own transportation. It seems that all though there was a bus supplied last term no one told me that there was no bus service from the nearby town for this term. Bah, Heathens. I managed find a bus that went to Birchingem and hitch a ride from there. Can you believe that I had to sit with some very large smelly woman holding a pig?

When I got to Slothlands I had to travel across some very slippery cobblestones. Who the hell thought that high heels and cobblestones should ever meet? I had to try to keep my vodka bottles and martini glasses from clanking around too much in my bag. Every single stumbling step I took had the bag clinking and me terrified a bottle would break. I had very little room for clothes once I packed my chocolate, martini shaker and other supplies, but be prepared is my motto !

There didn’t seem to be anyone in the yard at all but I did hear the oddest muffled yells follow by what sounded like a spanking. I took a quick look around the corner of the courtyard and there was this creepy man with this very hot looking teacher over his knee. I don’t think that they saw me as I ducked back around the corner and ran to the front door as fast as my stilettos could carry me. When I got to the front door and looked down there was a very shiny metal plate on the ground right where I had to stand. It was very odd; I mean why anyone would do that as you could clearly see my underwear reflected in it when I had to walk over it is beyond me. Strange for sure.

I haven’t met any of the other girls yet and when I got to my dorm room there was no one there, so I settled in on what looked like an empty bed. Funny décor in here as well. I noticed that there are iron rings in the headboard and foot board of the bed. I wonder what they are used for. I was also glad to note the ice machine down the hall. I was sure to scoop up some ice for a nice relaxing welcome martini for myself while I lay on the bed and waited for everyone else to get in.

PS. I noticed that there seemed to be an awful lot of ladders around here on the way in too. I do hope that if I have to work in the library that I don’t have to climb those really tall ones I saw.

Ted Stoat’s diary, 25th July

Hrumph! I really don’t know why I read the girls’ diaries when they’re in lessons, all I get is insults. The latest one is from a cute little thing with nice legs called Widget. Strange name, but then I can’t really talk.

Firstly, she insults cousin Ermentrude and her pig Mouthwash, and then she lays into my polished cobblestones. Bah. I polish those cobblestones daily. There’s barely a day that goes by when Ed doesn’t congratulate me on my load of old cobbles.

Next, she confesses to smuggling in a bottle of vodka (confiscated). Miss Gonzales and I shall drink well tonight. I don’t think it’s regular store-bought vodka, though - I had a sip of the stuff and lost a couple of hundred tastebuds and my keys.

Finally, the gravest crime of all – she called me a creepy man! I have never been creepy, except when I crept up on Miss Gonzales to bite her thighs on her birthday. She had asked me to surprise me, but she was still quite indignant. I'll never understand women.

I left an envelope on Widget’s bed – I pinned it to the headboard using a convenient hook.

“To Widget
From Ted Stoat, Caretaker

Widget,

Insolence will not be tolerated. You are to report to me tomorrow morning at 6am for your punishment. I want to break your will. You will strip, place your panties in your mouth, and then I shall enclose your pretty head in a hood. It will make it quite hard to breathe, but hey, it is meant to be a punishment.

I will then stand you on top of a pedestal in your oh-so-precious little shoes, and give you a tray to hold. On the tray will be various clamps, pegs, salves, and a hefty buttplug in the middle. Should you drop any of the items, they will be attached to your body. Or, in the case of the salves, smeared liberally over your bare skin, where it will burn and itch and make you wriggle all the more.

I warn you that you do not want the buttplug inside you. A former pupil, Julie Truly, once mistook it for a hot water bottle and slept with it all through the winter.

All my love,

Ted”

Maybe ‘All my love’ was a bad idea, but I think I got my message across. I just hope she doesn’t realise that I have no authority over anyone other than the petite little Miss Gonzales.

Ted

July 25

Dearest Diary:

I have met the nicest girl here named suchaminx.

I had gone out of my room for a bit to explore and find a quite place to smoke a ciggy and have a chocolate martini. When I returned there was a cute little girl in the dorm giggling and pointing at my bed.

“Hello” I said glancing at the bed and wondering what was so funny “I’m Widget, but all my friends call me Widge.

“Hello yourself” she said. “suchaminx and very nice to meet you.” Followed by more giggling.

I took a closer look at my bed and there was a note stuck to the headboard by one of the hooks on it. Honestly I have never seen so many hooks on furniture in all my life. I even saw some on the chairs. I took the letter down and opened it.

Suchaminx giggled again “I see that our pervy caretaker Ted has left you a note.”

I glanced up at her as I read it and nodded. I handed her the note. “Can he do this?? I mean what insolence is he talking about ? I haven’t even met him yet.” I growled indignantly, while at the same time hiding a little shiver at the thought of being naked and holding that tray.

“He is just the caretaker.” She replied “but he seems to have some disciplinary control over Miss Gonzales.”

“Right” I nodded. Miss Gonzales must have been the teacher I saw over his knee when I got there. “Well this calls for a drink while I think about what to do.”

“That heartless bastard!!” I hollered as I opened up my bag from under my bed. All my vodka.. gone…”that wanker stole all my booze!!!

“My dear Uncle Ernest made that batch in the bathtub the day before I left. We can’t use that bath tub any more because my Aunt Lorelean passed away in it right after we made that batch of brew.”

“One minute she was standing there, the next she took a sip and yelled ”I’m Blind” and fell forward into the tub dead. That. Was. The . last of a very good day for vodka.” I sat down on the edge of the bed sniffling.

This calls for action. “Do you know where Mr. Stoat’s room is?” I asked suchaminx.

“Sure” she said “all though he is most likely to be taking extra exams with Miss Gonzales this time of day.”

“Show me please?’ I asked

So off we went, down several dank hallways to a small room in the back. This is when I discovered his diary. I mean if a book is left in a cubby hole behind a headboard and pad locked shut, I don’t think the owner has any expectation of privacy what so ever.

“That man read my diary” I was indignant. Flipping through the other entries to show suchaminx. “It figures he is related to that pig holding woman” I grumbled. “Just look at what else he gets up too and I still can not believe he took my booze.”

“I think that Ted needs to be taught a lesson” I said looking at suchaminx “ do you think that any of the other girls would be in on this? Meeting in the Dorm room coat closet at 8:00. Bring anyone that might want to help”

“Sounds fun” she said “Count me in and I will see who else can help”

I carefully put the diary back and while I was in there grabbed a bottle of Brandy to take back for tonight’s meeting and then together we headed back to the dorm. I just hope he doesn’t notice it missing until tomorrow.

*giggling in the hallway*

*Muffled thump* and a very tied up Ted Stoat with a sack over his head is dropped at the door way of Miss Gonzales, complete with a page ripped out of his diary pinned to the sack.

“Mind you don’t spit those panties out of your mouth now”

*Knock Knock* at Miss Gonzales door…..

*running away and more giggling*

*thunk*

*knock knock*

Marie rolled over in bed, wondering who would dare disturb her at such an early hour. Grumbling to herself, she grabbed a robe from a chair and stumbled toward the door. Just before she opened it, she paused and checked to see if she was wearing panties. She wasn't. She nodded briskly to herself and opened the door. She looked out and saw nothing other than cariad and suchaminx walking up the hallway toward her office, giggling as usual. She frowned.

A rustling noise at her feet made her look down. At her feet was a body, tied up nicely in the not-for-climbing-purposes ropes. Marie took a moment to admire the knots, during which time suchaminx and cariad arrived at her door.

"Who's that, Miss Gonzales?" cariad asked.

Marie spotted a piece of paper attached to the sack on the body's head. She grabbed at it and, as she pulled it off, the sack came off, revealing a very angry Ted Stoat. The women laughed at his muffled outrage.

After tossing the sack into her office, Marie stood and looked at the girls.

"So, ladies. What do you propose we do with him?"

"mmmMMMMffffFFFFFFFLLLLLARRRRRGGGGHHH!!!"

Suchaminx giggled and said, "I think he'd like to be untied, Miss Gonzales."

Marie considered that for a moment and said, "You're probably right. But there's really no need to hurry, is there? Would you ladies like some coffee or tea? I'll put a fresh pot of water on." She turned and walked into her office. Cariad and suchaminx looked at each other, shrugged, giggled, and stepped over Ted's struggling body.

The three women enjoyed a cup of tea and some scones cariad had swiped from the kitchen. As they chatted over breakfast, Ted began to thump his way into Marie's office, his muffled protests growing louder. Finally, cariad said, "Um. Do you think we should untie him, Miss Gonzales?"

Marie sighed, put down her plate and said, "Yes. I suppose we should. Let's go, ladies."

The three women walked across the room to where Ted lay, flopping on the floor. They stood over him, barely suppressing their laughter, for a moment.

"Ted! Do stop moving around. We can't untie you if you flail like a haddock just removed from the water!"

Ted lay still and the women attempted to untie him. The knot work was quite good and it appeared that all of the not-for-climbing-purposes ropes were used to bind him. It took the three of them quite some time to untie Ted.

Finally, the last rope was removed. All that remained was the leather restraints binding his hands behind his back and the tape over his mouth. Ted glared at them. "Mmaa nna aaaaapppp oooo gggmmme!"

Suchaminx whispered, "I think he wants us to take the tape off his mouth."

"Ooooh...that's gonna hurt," cariad said. "I'm not doing it."

"Me, neither," suchaminx said hastily.

Ted glared at the students, then at Marie. "Mmmmmoooowwwww!"

"Sit still, Ted. I'll take the tape off." Marie reached down and pulled.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!! "

There was a crashing noise from elsewhere in the building. Marie later found out it was the Headmaster dropping a bottle of his beloved JD.

"Get those bloody cuffs off me!" Ted snarled.

Marie looked at his arms. The cuffs required a key. She stood. "I don't have the key."

"Then help me up! Don't just stand there!"

The three women helped Ted to his feet and he stormed off, yelling, "Oi! I'm going to find you, Widget! You'll be sorry when I do!"

Marie looked at the students. "You'd best be off to get ready for classes." They giggled and left. Marie spotted the note on the sack and read the contents. She paled, then blushed, then folded the paper and tucked it in her bra.

Ted's Diary, July 26th

Nothing much exciting happened today. Honest.

Note to self - I will exact my revenge on anything that has more ovaries than me. I must have a word with Ed-Master to see if I can get some real authority in this place. Grr!

Ted.

i LOVE this thread, it's awesome!

Dear Ted,

I'm writing to you informally as I need to ask a favour of you. I must say that you have been a most valued member of the staff here and have impressed me with your hard work. But above all I am so very pleased with the way in which you welcomed Miss Gonzales with open arms.

The thing is this: I am in need of a new member of the teaching staff. Since squiffy has gone AWOL we are somewhat short. Would you consider taking his place for a while? You will naturally receive absolutely no extra financial renumeration but you will have the full weight of my authority behind you-do you think you would like that? I'll give you the key to my cane cupboard.

Please take your time in considering this offer.

Yours etc,

EdMaster.

July 27
Dear Diary:

On second thought maybe it was not such a wise idea to hide the keys to Ted’s cuffs in a pie. I was afraid he might not see the humor in me so kindly delivering him to Miss Gonzales doorway the way I did, so I baked his keys into a cherry pie as a way to make it up to him.

I make awesome pie too. I left it in front of the doorway of the dorm room with a note that said “Eat Me Ted”. I know he must have found it because I heard the most god awful yelling and clanking in the hallway while I was skipping class, I mean off to class followed by an even louder yell of “EAT ME!! she is going to pay!!”

It is so gratifying to know that people like down home baking. Sigh. I am a little concerned about the rumors that have Ted accepting a teaching position here. I don’t believe he is qualified. hmmm

Ted's Diary - July 30th...

Umm. The latest exploits of Ted and Miss Gonzales are now appearing in the August contest forum. Look in "Story Contest" in the main forum.

This took a few days to write, and thanks to maddie, Curi and suchaminx for proof-reading it.

But! What this means is that Ted is now more free to focus his attention on Widget and minx and the other Slothland girls... purr.

Q xx

Marie's diary, Saturday, August 5:

It has been a long week. The headmaster's away, AGAIN. Ted has been rather cranky all week, and, believe it or not, says he's too irritated to be near me. He swears it's nothing to do with me, but one can't help wondering, you know? The students, for reasons beyond my comprehension, are actually doing their assignments properly and turning them in on time. And they've all gone off for the weekend to the boys' school across the lake, so I can't cane any of them.

I am not amused.

I have nearly worn out that page from Ted's diary that Widget found. Bless her heart. I do believe she's still walking a bit stiffly after Ted caught her, tied her to a tree, and gave her a good thrashing. Doesn't have much of a sense of humor at times, does he?

Anyway. If the rest of his diary is anything like the page I have, it must be permanently radiating steam. His descriptions of the things he wants to do to me? Let's just say they're rather eye-opening, even for me. That boy has quite the imagination. I'm not sure a few of the things he suggests are logistically feasible, though he does appear to be rather flexible, which helps.

It's been a bit hard for me to learn to submit to anyone. I honestly didn't think I could do it, at least not for more than a few days. But any time I have doubts, I think about how it makes me feel when he's happy with me, and I just melt.

Doesn't mean I don't enjoy vexing him on occasion. Even if it means a reddened, tingly ass for a few days.

Ted's diary, Sunday August 6th...

Yahar. Miss Gonzales will get hers. It's true, I've been irritating for a few decades now, but I want to assure Miss G that she is a lovely woman who I will pay close attention to in a few days.

In the meantime, I am working on an extra lesson. As everyone knows, all girls want to grow up to be housewives or secretaries, so I don't know why we try to fill their pretty little heads with science or history. With that in mind, I'll be teaching an ex-pupil (Julie Truly) and a few current pupils in the art of typing and pleasing her boss. Her male boss.

Until then, I'll just give Miss G a foot rub, a neck massage, a kiss on the cheek, a cushion for her cage, and a pair of fresh new nipple clamps.

Q xx

Ted’s diary...

I’d had it planned for an age, a carefully laid-out operation, and then she turned up and threw my plans into disarray. My first lesson, a voluntary extra-curricular lesson open to all students, to learn the art of being a secretary. It was arranged with a particular favourite of mine in mind, young Julie Truly, who had left the school after finding a job at a top law firm. The poor gal came to me on her hands and knees, begging for extra tuition – it turned out that there was more to secretarial work than standing at the water cooler, talking about the previous night’s episode of ‘Lost’.

When Julie Truly is on her hands and knees, you cannot resist her. Either that or you look for her contact lens. Ted Stoat's first teaching job would be a lesson for secretaries. Don't look at me like that, diary, you know that Miss Gonzales always said I was good with my fingers.

I turned up to the classroom an hour before the lesson was due to begin, with all the equipment ready. It needed careful testing, these were delicate instruments. I expected the room to be empty so I could set up the electrical apparatus in peace – and I had never known a girl to remain in class a second longer than they had to. But this time, there was an unfamiliar young lady in the room.

She was sitting on top of my desk, wearing something that in no way resembled a school uniform. Her big blue eyes glanced in my direction for a moment, widened, then casually returned to the knife that she was holding. It was a sharp, six inch blade that she was spinning in her hand like a baton, tossing it up and snatching it out of the air, grasping it tightly as she caught it.

“You like knives?” I asked her.

“Sure,” she said. She had a youthful voice that hid a giggle.

“I suppose a fork’s out of the question.”

Those eyes flashed at me again. She smiled: a relief considering her obvious experience with cutlery. I took the chance to look at the rest of her. Her pixie nose flared each time she looked at the knife, her pouting mouth was moist and kissable, her cheekbones were high and sharp. Her skin looked as though she rarely saw the sun, but it added to her prettiness, as did the jet-black hair that straggled down in front of her.

And then there’s the body. I like a good uniform as much as the next man, but when I write down what this gal was wearing, you’ll see that there’s more to arousing clothing than tight uniforms and leather corsets. She wore:
a

• tight bootleg t-shirt that showed Princess Leia pleasuring herself with a light sabre, torn off two inches above the navel
• one of those oversized belt things that would look adorable wrapped tightly around her neck
• a short, tight PVC skirt that had a split up the side
• slutty white fishnets
• down to the knee-highs that matched her skirt

Now, I bet you’re picturing her. And I hope that image is getting you as aroused as it was getting me, standing in front of her.

“And you are?” I asked.

“Mina.”

“Meaner than whom?”

“No, no,” she smiled. “I’m Mina.”

“Meaner than whom?”

She was about to repeat her name again, when she realised I was joking, so she poked the knife in my direction. I didn’t make the same joke a third time, so I asked her what the fricking hell she was doing in my classroom.

“Secretarial thing, yeah? I’m here to study. My application form was, um, lost in a dog’s ass.”

“Fine, fine, but you can’t wear... that... to my class,” I said, in as non-threatening a way as I could. “It’ll have to go.”

She did something that almost made me hurl her over a desk and consensually molest her. She hopped off the desk, delicately walked towards me with a confident heel-toe step, her eyes never leaving mine, and then she stopped with her breasts an inch from my stomach. She raised her chin, and in a sweet, angelic voice said “Make me, sir.”

My knees quivered. “Lose the knife first.”

She hurled it into the opposite wall, where it struck a picture of a sheep right between the eyes. I wasn’t aware of what the sheep had done to her; I did not care to ask. She was smiling sweetly with her arms pointed vertically upwards, so I lifted her shirt up over her head, sighing at the young but legal flesh that was revealed. I half-expected to see scars across her body, but there were none.

I stuck out my tongue, and let it drift down her body and I dropped to my knees. I unbuckled the skirt and belt, and put them to one side. She had a thin wisp of hair between her legs, and I could see a small, painful-looking piercing in her clit.

“Yes, it hurt,” she said, before I asked. “It was the best thing I ever did.”

I looked at her boots, then shuddered, remembering the young woman I had left at home. That woman liked her footwear too, I reflected, scrambling to my feet. “I, ah, I think you should take off your own boots, Mina.”

“Yes, sir,” she smiled, bending forwards whilst keeping her legs straight. Ah, the flexibility of the youth. Her eyes had looked at my crotch as she bent over, while mine had mentally ravaged her ass.

“Th-there’s some clothes in that desk over there,” I pointed without using my hands. “A proper secretarial outfit...”

“... for a proper secretary,” she grinned. “Thanks, sir.”

I watched her pad barefoot and naked to her desk, and wondered ‘If this happens before the lesson even begins, what’s going to happen when I actually start teaching? Who else is going to even turn up?’

Ted.