Stoatily Sordid Tales From Slothlands Part I
Umm Ed, I was in the local pub the other day – you know, “The Gilded Ostrich”, and I found a diary. Naturally, a diary is a secret, precious thing that should be treated like a sacred document. So here it is.
Qmoq
Wednesday 17th May
Found another bra in the dorms. Why these girls are careless enough to leave their underwear in their lockers, I’ll never know. Still, Ed seemed pleased when I presented it to him, so some lass is not going to sit down for a week. Mmm. I know who I hope it is.
That new teacher arrives on Friday, Miss Sanchez or something. Ed seems very keen on her, but her list of requirements for her office seems long, to say the least. Why she needs a cabinet for her canes, I’ll never know: Ed just puts his in an umbrella stand made from an elephant’s foot, and polishes them with the fur from a cat he ran over once. And he’s had no complaints.
Thursday 18th May
Ach. I got her name wrong, it’s Miss Gonzales. Miss Marie Gonzales. Bet she’s got a stick up her ass, they all do, these young teachers.
Friday 19th May
Bless my old bones, I think I’m in love. Or at lust, at least. Miss Marie Gonzales is simply the most delectable creature that I have ever seen: from every angle she could produce drool at twenty paces. If she’s got a stick up her ass, my only problem would be that she’s not asked me to lick it yet. Or be it. Oh my, how I would love to bend her forwards over her desk, and slide my cock deep into that ass of hers, reaching over to squeeze her tits at the same time. She’s young, Mexican, jet-black hair that frames her pretty face and pixie nose, atop which she wears a permanent set of wide-rimmed glasses that suit her perfectly. And that body. Oh my lord. Got a kinda healthy Salma Hayek vibe about her, which can’t be bad. Ed introduced her this morning, and he had a damn filthy grin on his face too, don’t you know. Lucky bastard. She teaches General Studies, which is a waste of fricking time if you ask me, but I tell you, that woman could general my studies any day.
Monday 22nd May
Nope. I’ve looked at this for three days now and still don’t know what “general my studies” means. But my passion for Miss Gonzales mounts.
I walked past her lesson today, and saw her in action. She has a lot going for her, I couldn’t keep my eyes away as she reached up to write some words on the blackboard. She may have been writing something most profound: I didn’t see it. I only saw the tender, small hand that cradled the chalk, the slim, pretty wrist it was attached to. Her smart little business suit deserves a mention, it fitted her and showed off all her curves, yet wasn’t suited for a teacher that reached up too much. Even from my distance, I could see the tight skirt hitch up and reveal her stockingtop.
The girls were being their usual selves. Cariad was flicking elastic bands at Jennyfer, and Seababy was looking out of the window – she gave me a wink when she saw me. Only Suchaminx actually appeared to be doing any work, writing studiously, until I saw what she had written, when she stuck a note that read “Tawse Me” on Seababy’s back.
But when Miss Gonzales turned around, and fixed the girls with a stare, they all snapped rigidly to position, primly putting their shoulders back and producing tremendous strain on that third button. When she turned back to the blackboard, all the girls paid much more attention. Seababy darted her eyes in my direction, and raised an eyebrow at me, but was too scared to wink again.
I love her. Miss Gonzales, I mean. Not Seababy, though she’s nice too.
Tuesday 23rd May
Well, yesterday I thought I loved her. Today I only think I think I love her. She passed me in the canteen and seemed a little hoity-toity, snapping “I need to see you on Thursday in my office at five.” Even so, she held herself with a delicate grace, and that arse was still as edible as ever.
Wednesday 24th May
Had to clean the girls’ toilets today, the graffiti is disgraceful. I reported it verbatim to Ed, who nodded, said “Ooo that’s a good one,” and wrote it down. I was truly disappointed when I realised that cleaning it up meant I missed Miss Gonzales take the girls on a four mile run through the rain. I got a note from her though, which reminded my of our appointment. I held it to my bosom, then stuck it deep into my pockets, though I admit I was a bit uncertain.
Thursday 25th May
I hate her. God damn.
I went to her office at five, as requested, and without even saying hello or offering me a cup of tea, she asked me how often her office was cleaned. When I said it was cleaned once every three days, she hissed that this was nowhere near good enough, and it should be cleaned once a day, at least. Silly tart doesn’t realised I’d have to do it myself, not since two of the girls got caught with the cleaning staff. Then Miss Gonzales had the temerity to order her a large cabinet for her canes, and was quite specific about it.
“It cannot be more than four foot high or two foot wide, otherwise the canes would look silly hanging there.”
“If I got you a taller cabinet, you could chuck other things in the bottom. The punishment vibrators, for instance, are a pain in the doo-dah to keep anywhere, but they’d be perfect down th-”
“You silly little man,” she interrupted. “I am a pro-fess-io-nal woman. I do not cast my possessions into the bottom of a cupboard, I treat them with respect.”
Something in the way she emphasised each syllable of the word ‘professional’ made my blood boil, but I held my tongue.
“Well?” she continued. “Aren’t you going to measure the floor to make sure it can fit?”
I stared at her, perturbed but determined to show that I was a pro-fess-io-nal too. I got down on all fours, and shuffled to the wall, tape-measure in hand. She ignored me, of course, which was handy in one respect. I looked at her stockinged legs under her desk, just as she crossed them. Oh my, that flash of white panties made it all worthwhile, and the contrast against her dusky brown thighs was astonishing.
Without looking up from her papers, she called out. “Well, do you have anything that could fit in there?”
I stood up, and looked at the measurement. “Yes, Miss Gonzales. I’ll bring it to you tomorrow.”
“See that you do,” she replied.
Stoatily Sordid Tales From Slothlands Part II
Friday 26th May
I brought her the cabinet to her office on a trolley, knocked quietly on her door, and waited. No response. I knocked again.
“Yes, yes,” she snapped. “Come in, if you must.”
I entered. She wore black today, with a prim blouse with the white collar over the outside of the collar of the jacket. If she hadn’t been such a cow, I would have been chronically erect. Even so, she did stir something inside me.
“Oh, it’s you,” she sniffed, as though she was saying hello to something she found on her mudflaps.
“Where do you want the cabinet, Miss Gonzales?” I asked politely. I was polite, I always am.
“Where do you think?” she shrugged, and pointed in the direction of the gap I had measured the previous day. “Over there, and be quick about it, I’m a busy woman.”
I nodded obsequiously and pushed it into place. As I pulled the trolley away, I nudged over a yukka plant, and she got to her feet.
“Sorry Miss,” I said. “I’ll clean that up in a minute.”
“You’ll clean it up now, or else.”
“N-no,” I said nervously. “First, I need to show you how the cabinet works.”
I opened the doors, and she stepped closer to it, looking inside, mumbling something about knowing how a goddamn cabinet works and certainly not needing any lessons on it from a boneheaded caretaker, when I pushed her inside with a single hand on her back. She stumbled in, bounced sweetly off the back wall, then disappeared as I shut the cabinet on her. She banged heavily on the door, which got louder when I locked it and put it on the trolley. I pushed her out into the corridor. The headmaster was coming in the other direction.
“I say, Ted, where are you going with that cabinet? What’s in there?” he asked when he heard it rattling.
“Umm, no sir, Miss Marie Gonzales is in here, I’m going to ravish her quite vigorously.”
“Jolly good, do carry on,” replied the head, satisfied. “Please don’t let the girls see it, though. You know how much trouble they cause when they get aroused.”
“Yus sir,” I nodded. He was right. When they did well on their exams, we rewarded them with a George Clooney marathon on the school TV. Took me three days to get all the stains out.
It meant I had to find a deserted place, somewhere where the closed-circuit cameras and the girls couldn’t see me. When I thought of the place, I began to laugh so hard, it stopped the banging on the doors and made Miss Gonzales begin to squeal nervously.
I was glad the trolley had wide wheels, otherwise it would have got stuck in the lighter mud, long before the virtual swamp that sat in the middle of the playing fields. I unlocked the cabinet, not saying a word, then I upended her. She flopped out of the cabinet, right into the mud with a heavy squelch. Quickly, she got up, began to run uncertainly on her four-inch heels, and started to stumble even before I chose to catch her. My old rugby union days helped me out. I grabbed her by the wrist, spun her round like I was John Travolta, and hurled her into the mud again.
She slid for three yards in the mess, gasping at the cold water as it seeped into her clothes. When she got up this time, her blouse was virtually transparent, and her suit was almost totally filth-ridden, certainly ruined. She looked nervous, but did not scream.
“You will p-pay for t-this,” she said, but the confidence in her voice had gone. She turned and ran, and I just had to take two quick paces towards her, reach out a leg to trip her up, and she was on her face again. This time I crouched by her fallen frame, and her pathetic posture seemed to inspire me.
“You want everything clean, but you don’t know what dirt really is, do you?” I snarled.
Umm. Then I regret that I may not have treated her like a lady. I sat on her as she lay face down, and used both hands differently. With my left hand, I held that bun of hers, and forced her head into the mud, which made her arms flail wildly, and her legs kick up in the air.
“You love to be treated like a dirty bitch, don’t you?”
“Yowgle,” she spluttered when I let her come up for air.
“That’s yowgle, Mister Stoat,” I responded, and pushed her head back down again. My other hand – and I should stress that I am right handed – curled around under her short skirt, and was pinching and scratching some sensitive skin at the top of her inner thigh. It was hard to get any closer, because the silly thing kept clenching her legs shut on me. I lifted her head again and whispered “Spread those legs for me, Miss Gonzales,” into her ear.
“Burple,” she replied, but when I feinted to push her head in again, she complied. In return, to prove that I was a reasonable man, I let go of her head.
“Good girl,” I said, and began to stroke the back of her neck with the tips of my fingers. She calmed instantly, and the muscles in her legs relaxed, the arms went limp. My right hand moved upwards, and found what I expected to find. Ed would not have hired someone at the rates he charges, if they were normal.
“You’re not a normal girl, are you?” I asked in a triumphant, smiling voice. “Your little cunt is all wet, isn’t it? ISN’T IT?” I grabbed her hair and pulled her head so far back that her shapely, slim neck was exposed.
“Yes, Mr Stoat, it is,” she purred.
I slid a finger halfway into her cunt. The chin dropped, the eyes clenched shut, she let out a tender little gasp, but said nothing.
“What do you propose I do? Should I measure something to put into it?” I asked.
“N-n-y-no,” she gurgled.
“Or maybe I should just fuck you right here in the mud,” I added. It was not a question.
“Yes,” she said with a growl in her voice. “Fuck me, sir.”
That was all I wanted to hear. I undid the bun on the back of her head, stood up, and dragged her to her feet by the straggly, dirty hair. She grunted and arched her back, standing uncertainly on her heels.
“Take off your skirt. Throw it in the cabinet.”
Her shaking hands undid a clasp on her waistband, and the skirt was removed. She tossed it weakly at the open cabinet, it landed a good three yards short. As it landed, I brought my hand hard down on her left buttock.
“Clumsy,” I said, and slapped the other one. Her body jolted forwards at each slap, the gasps were a dead giveaway. “You love this, don’t you, slut?”
“Y-yes sir, t-this slut loves it.”
I pushed her to the floor again, and ordered her to get on all fours. This, she readily did, and I knelt behind her for more observation. “Arch your back, whore, and get those knees further apart. I want to see this cunt of yours,” I slapped her inner thighs hard, and she dutifully spread her legs. I slapped them again, harder this time, just because the red marks contrasted wonderfully against the brown skin and drops of wet mud. Then I looked at her tight little pussy. “Ahh, my goodness, Miss Gonzales, I am going to enjoy fucking this cunt. It is small, and I love to stretch pussies like this, you know? But it’s wet, my god it’s wet, you’re a damp little fucktoy, aren’t you?”
“Yes sir!”
I slapped her arse again. “What are you?”
“I’m your stupid little fucktoy, sir!”
I scraped my fingernails down the small of her back to the top of her stockingtops. I didn’t even ask her again, but she continued.
“And I need to be fucked, because I’m an insatiable cowslut, sir. Make me your cumbitch, please sir, I need your cock in me so badly, sir!”
I unzipped myself, already ready to burst, and knelt behind her. I placed the head of my cock into her, and he whimpered with anticipation. Then I leaned over her and my entire length slid into that tight little cunt. I could feel her muscles tighten on it, as though she never wanted to let it go. I pushed her head forwards again, face down into the mud. She gurgled happily as I began to fuck her, coming up for air to beg me to fuck her harder.
It only took a few minutes, she may have pissed me off so much in the previous few days, but she did look like Salma Hayek, and she was coated in mud and calling herself degrading names that even I had never heard before. So when she asked if she could cum, and I let her, and she roared with a cry that made birds fly from the treetops, it only took a second for me to spurt deep into her pussy. I collapsed on top of her, my heavy mass forcing her tender frame into the mud, which seeped happily around her. My hands idly stroked and fingered her hair as she cooed warm thank-you-sirs to me. She was a grateful little cunt, I thought to myself.
Eventually, when I found some strength, I got up, pulled her to her feet, dragged her to the cabinet and roughly shoved her inside. She turned to face me, her mud-soaked face looking up with devilish eyes and a wicked grin. I bit my lip and shut the door on her, then put the cabinet back on the trolley. I took my time to brush some of the mud from my overalls, remembered to zip up, and began to push her back to her office. She remained silent. I thought I had gotten away with it, but as I passed the girls coming out of their usual detention, something they said seemed to indicate that we may have been discovered.
“Have you had a good day, sir?” asked Suchaminx.
“Nice weather, isn’t it, sir?” asked Cariad.
“Always good to get some fresh air, isn’t it, sir?” asked Seababy.
“Wow, sir, I loved the way you shoved your fingers in her cunt when you were pulling back on her hair,” grinned Jennyfer.
Maybe I was paranoid.
The end
Application to Slothlands Academy
Dear HeadMaster,
Please consider my application to become a student of Slothlands Academy. I am an older student, however I am confident I will be able to meet the stringent demands you place on all your students. Since completing my primary education in an oppressive school almost twenty years ago, I have gone on to obtain advanced degrees in higher education but feel I need the education and lessons you are teaching. After much research, I am confident that your Academy will fill these gaps in my life.
I am very interested in your curriculum and look forward to using classes such as bondage and physical education to help me to learn how to be a better wife and mother.
Since I have no outside responsibilities, attending the school full time will not be a trouble and I will try my hardest to adhere to the rules and policy of the school.
I truly hope you accept my application.
