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DELIVERANCE This story is a work of erotic fiction. All names, characters, places and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used here fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locals or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. [ part 1 ] Cruel Desires The Avron sports car certainly lived up to its reputation; hugging the corners, as Victoria negotiated them at anything up to fifty miles an hour, accelerating away quickly at the touch of the pedal. The large steering wheel was effortless to control, while the gear lever was presented on a high perch, perfect for manoeuvring whilst not having to divert her hand far from the wheel. Her recently cut and waved hair blew in the wind of the convertible as, coming to a straight part of road, she put her right foot down and flooded the twin carburettors with fuel. The compact car seemed to judder, and then lurch forward as the big three-litre engine was given its head. With a pleased smile, Victoria enjoyed the exhilarating pace as she tore down the narrow country lanes of Kent, laughing as she overtook a ford that appeared to be just about stationary when compared to her sixty five miles an hour. The bend for the Grange appeared in front and Victoria concentrated on breaking and downshifting the gears, the sides of her right foot operating clutch and throttle while her left touched the oversized barrel brakes to slow the car down. The motor grunted loudly through the exhaust, complaining at having to slow, then she was turning into the narrow lane that was part of the estate, the exhaust sounding its even tempered bass pitch as she opened her up again. Occasionally, through gaps in the trees and branches, she would see the Grange nestling down in the valley, the building itself perched lovingly on the large island in the lake. Victoria was ready for the quick turn to the right, then the short drive up to the stables that had been turned into a garage for her growing collection of cars. Gunning the accelerator to send the oil through its channels, she waited for a moment before turning off the ignition. Charlie Reed, the mechanic come chauffeur was waiting for her, his wife Mary beside him. Mary was now the housekeeper at the Grange, having taken over when her mother retired. Not that her mother was that far away as she now lived in a small cottage on the edge of the estate. Charlie doffed his cap towards his employer as she climbed fluidly from the sports car, his eyes darting away from the expanse of thigh he caught sight of as she rose from the seat. “How did she go?” he asked, his fingers already undoing the latch of the bonnet. Victoria, flushed from her drive, bent to do the other, unwearyingly giving him a glimpse down the front of her blouse. “She still wants to backfire when your foot comes off the pedal,” she told him. The bonnet lifted backwards, rising from the windshield edge to stand vertical over the front grill. It left the massive engine nude, every part accessible. Charlie nodded, half his mind on the problem, the other half thinking again about Victoria. He had been told that she was thirty-nine, the same age as himself. But that hardly seemed possible, not for a woman with such a clear and pale complexion and whose dark hair and pale skin emphasised her large brown eyes. He had also heard rumours about her too, terrible rumours about how sadistic and cruel she was with the children. He wondered at their truth, especially when meeting her like this and talking so easily about cars. More and more he found himself thinking about her and wondering at the rumours. Much to his shame, he even caught himself thinking about her as he was making love to his wife. “The vacuum feed into the distributor could be faulty. I'll test it out,” he told her, flustered by the thoughts going through his head. Victoria nodded and glanced towards Mary, her arms crossed over her chest. “Is everything alright my dear?” she asked. “Oh yes Ma'am,” Mary replied with a smile. “Come, walk with me,” Victoria said, dropping her kid leather driving gloves on the car seat and then slowly walking the short distance to the Grange, with Mary at her side. There was only Victoria and Simon to look after now and that was no hardship. The old butler, John Marks had passed away some years ago and was never replaced, and Anne Bishop returned to St Saviour’s when the war ended. The only children at the Priory now were from Spain, brought back by well meaning visitors to the Spanish Civil War. Victoria and Simon had given them shelter when the press had finished and Louisa Baker had been rehired to teach them. “Things are likely to get busy around here again shortly,” Victoria told her. “War is looming, there's no mistaking it, and this time the Ministry will want to evacuate all the children from London to the country,” Victoria announced. “But that's thousands!” Mary gasped. Victoria nodded, her natural smile betraying her sadistic excitement at having evacuees and orphans to stay at Birchwood Grange again. “I have hired Amy Park to help Louisa at the Priory,” Victoria told her. “We have to be very careful who we employ, and you will recall that she has worked at the Priory before and can be trusted.” “My word!” Mary gasped, trying to get her mind around all the changes there would need to be made. “So! You had best put together a list of what you’ll need,” Victoria told her. “Yes of course, I understand,” Mary answered. “Which brings me to why I wanted to talk to you my dear,” Victoria told her. “You and Charlie have been married for a year now. Don't you think it’s time you introduced him to us properly?” she asked. Mary knew this would come up sooner or later and chewed her bottom lip nervously. It wouldn't have been so bad, had Charlie come from nearby, somewhere where the custom of sending children to the local country estate to earn a dowry was understood and accepted. But she had met him in Whitstable while on holiday. It had been love at first sight and, when Simon and Victoria offered him employment at the Grange as their mechanic come chauffer, their minds were made up. “You're nervous about telling him, aren’t you,” Victoria told her. “What if he's disgusted? What if he doesn't understand?” Mary wailed. Tears escaped her eyes as she thought of losing him and worse, what he might think of her, seeing her in her true light. “It has to be done,” Victoria said, with a touch of sympathy. “We've gone without a strong man for a while now, but we won't be able to manage for much longer, especially with all those children coming,” she warned. “Just how many children do you intend to accept?” Mary asked. “Oh, about thirty,” Victoria told her, grinning when she saw Mary's jaw drop. ****** Simon leant on his walking stick while the architect looked again at the rough sketches he had laid out before him. “Well?” he said, his impatience starting to get the better of him. The sketches helped them both visualise the extended wings that would form the new dormitories and classrooms, the covered walkway to what would be the new infirmary. “Well, it's possible Sir, but not very practical if you don't mind me saying so,” the man told him. “You've placed the dormitories next to each other Sir. It would be much more practical to have them apart, and easier to build,” he added. “The bathrooms are very utilitarian if you don't mind me saying so Sir. Panelling to provide a little more privacy needn't be all that expensive. And then there are the storage cupboards. They'd be more effective placed all together here, just inside the main reception area,” he argued. “I want it built the way it is shown in these drawings. Can you do it?” he asked. “How quickly can you have it finished?” Simon asked impatiently. The architect looked at the drawings, obviously still disapproving of the design. “About eight to ten weeks?” he said. “Can I also suggest that the infirmary doesn't need to be so large? An additional room off of each of the dormitories should be sufficient,” he suggested. Simon looked at the pointing finger and smiled, shaking his head. “Who knows what ailments they might have,” he told the man. “Have it built as is, and there will be bonuses for an early completion,” he said. That seemed to placate the architect and he drove off in his little Ford to leave Simon to wonder back into the Priory. Memories crowded in as he entered. The benches still remained, each with little holes set in them at regular intervals. He visualised the children as they were forced to masturbate astride them in fear of being punished. Rugs now decorated the wooden floor, stained with the taking of their virginities, or the loosening of their bladders. The stains were like a bond; tying them to the Priory just as effectively as any of the real ropes and bonds. The doors swung open without a sound, double hinged in order to take the additional weight of children bound and hung on their edge, their young and tender genitals slamming hard against the unforgiving door latch, as canes and whips were used to cruelly punish their bottoms and thighs. Simon stepped into the classroom, the whole room falling silent to look at him, and Miss Baker smiled. The children licked their lips and shook, growing nervous as he drew nearer. “How nice to see you Master Simon! Come on children, how do we greet our visitors?” she asked her class. The five youngsters, all with dark hair and the complexions of their Basque parents, shuffled to their feet and, in poor unison, recited the words they'd been taught. “Good morning Master Simon,” they chorused. Simon chuckled and looked down at the closest child to him, a sweet little girl with an oval face, large brown eyes and straight black hair shorn at the neck. “Were you looking for anything in particular, Sir?” Miss Baker asked. Miss Baker taught the traditional way during the day, but reserved the early mornings for the children’s hygiene routines and the last class of the day for their sexual education. The late evening she used for her own pleasures on the pretext of testing the children’s ability to put into practice what they had learnt. “Yes! I am looking for a little light relief,” he told her. “But I think I may have found it,” he chuckled looking at the child. “You may continue with your lesson, I won't disturb you,” he promised. “Mina! Stand up,” Miss Baker ordered. Louisa was envious of Simon’s choice. Mina is just eleven and when she arrived at the Priory she had a fiery Latin temperament, which gave her many hours of pleasure punishing her and moulding her into the docile little tart she was now. Mina’s big brown eyes watched him open his trousers, her expression unreadable as she watched him sit against the empty desk behind him, then reach for her, his pale cock already half hard. Simon drew the girl to his side, then pushed her head down, groaning in delight as the girl opened her mouth to accept him. Her fingers wrapped themselves around his cock and gently pumped him while she tried to get more of him into her little mouth. “That's right Mina!” Simon told her. She slobbered, letting her saliva flow down to her fingers, and aiding their slide along his throbbing cock. “Ah! Such a lovely little tart!” he groaned. His hand stopped stroking the child’s hair and slid slowly down her back, easily reaching the hem of her dress to lift it up and expose her lovely bottom, a tight little bottom that still showed the feint scars from Miss Baker’s last cruel punishment. Simon's fingers slid down her short anal groove and pressed in over her little cunt, a sob escaping him as he felt how small and tight she was. He particularly enjoyed girls with tight little cunt’s that gripped his cock firmly, and loved to watch their painful expressions as he stretched them wide apart. He would make them sit astride his loins and fuck him hard, their cute expressions a mixture of both pain and concentration as they desperately strove to bring him off as quickly as they could. Mina worked her mouth and hands and Simon laboured for breath, the dizziness of an impending ejaculation forcing him to hold her more tightly. One more pull, one more constriction of her lips behind his bloated cock head, and his release was upon him at last. He gasped and bucked forward. Jets of seed spurted into her mouth and she swallowed what she could, her fingers quickly wiping up the rest for her to swallow later. ****** It was a little after six in the evening when the doorknocker sounded on the front door and echoed in the hallway. Simon and Victoria, not expecting anyone, exchange an enquiring look before then waiting for Mary to announce whom it was. They continued to look preoccupied with their reading until then. Mary appeared and curtsied. “There's a couple at the door. I think they're German, come to talk to you about something private, they said. They've got cases with them too Miss,” Mary announced. “German?” Simon asked, clearly intrigued. “Well! You better show them in Mary. Let's find out what they want,” Victoria told her. With another flustered curtsy Mary disappeared and returned with the couple, showing them into the lounge before rushing off to get some refreshments. Victoria and Simon looked closely at the newcomers scrutinising them in the same way that the couple were scrutinising them. They introduced themselves as Daniel and Rachel Ackerman. Although their manners and accent seemed German, their looks belayed that. Neither of them were blond or blue eyed, and the woman was far from being the buxom wench so many expect of German women. They were both of a similar height; the trousers and jacket Rachel wore, saying little about her figure. In their late twenties Victoria guessed, they dressed well and had a likeness to them that spoke of being related much more than being a married couple. “Have you come far?” Victoria asked. They glanced at each other, before Daniel leant forward to speak. “From Bonn, in Germany,” he told her. “We both worked at Bonn University Hospital,” he explained, once again glancing at his partner. “Married?” Simon asked. “Oh no,” Daniel laughed while Rachel blushed, her eyes darting to those of Victoria for a moment. “We are brother and sister,” he explained. “Our father was a professor at the University Hospital, so it was natural we both followed in his footsteps,” Daniel explained. “As you may be aware, Germany is a very difficult place to be at the moment,” Rachel explained. “Especially if you are a Jew,” Daniel sighed. “You're Jewish!” Simon exclaimed. They nodded. “Yes! German Jews, but it makes no difference. It was announced that Jews were no longer allowed to hold management jobs, nor be members of a profession. We cannot gather together or hold meetings,” Daniel explained. “Our careers are gone. Poof!” Rachel said, her eyes sparkling with tears. “You were Doctors?” Simon asked. “Not quite! We were medical researchers,” Daniel explained. “So you fled Germany?” Simon asked. “Yes! We got out just in time. We left everything we have there. We have nothing,” Rachel told them, her tears once more threatening to overcome her. Daniel reached across and held her hand, a comforting move that helped her to control herself. “What brings you to Birchwood Grange?” Simon prodded. “Well! Some years ago we heard through a friend about an orphanage here in England that was different, where the orphans were abused, punished and even tortured on a daily basis,” Rachel told them. “Ever since we were students, we have wondered if there is any way of measuring and recording just how much pain and pleasure children can be made to endure,” Daniel told them. “There is so much we would like to research!” Rachel added her eyes alight with the passion she was feeling. “But it is an area with many moral issues,” Daniel explained. “Oh! We don’t see it like that,” Victoria told them. Daniel glanced at Rachel again, and then took a deep breath before he continued. “Please excuse us if we are being rude, but we found out that St Saviour’s, the orphanage we so much wanted to visit closed about ten years ago following the death of its founder a Miss Alice Marchant,” Rachel said. “Yes that’s correct! She is our mother,” Victoria told them. “A reliable source also told us that you assisted your country during the First World War by taking in a small number evacuees and orphans here at Birchwood Grange, and we know that you already have a small number of Basque children here at the moment who are evacuees from the Spanish Civil War,” Daniel ventured. “My, my, you have been doing your homework,” Simon drawled. “Yes that’s correct!” Victoria admitted. “Perhaps you would like to conduct your research on them?” Victoria suggested with a sly smile, clearly interested in the possibilities of watching them at work. Turning to Simon she saw a gleam in his eye and instantly knew that he agreed with the offer she had just made. Their faces flushed, the German pair nodded their acceptance. “Very well! Victoria said. “You will have a separate building for your research, and a fund to obtain equipment, in addition to a supply of children. Accommodation will be provided here in the Grange and you will also each receive a salary of two hundred pounds per year. In addition, you will commit all your research to film, and conduct private demonstrations for a small number of our guests,” Victoria told them. “Yes! But you must also pass all the children you have experimented on to me as soon as you have finished with them,” Simon added, his face showing his arousal. “You say there will be a supply of children?” Daniel remarked. “Yes! There will be at least thirty evacuees and orphans arriving in a few weeks time, and there are of course the five Spanish children who are here already,” Victoria told them. “Will that be enough for your research?” she asked, seeing the joy light up in their faces. “Oh yes! Thank you,” they both chorused. ****** The Ministry had arranged for all the children destined for Birchwood Grange to be aboard the 11.06 express from London to Hastings. There were three small coaches waiting at Maidstone station for them when they arrived. They were a varied and mixed bunch, some coming from affluent areas and others from poorer. However, as requested, the boy’s were all handsome and the girl’s all attractive. They had been hand picked by Simon’s contact at the Ministry, who had been paid well and knew just exactly what was required. Looking timid and nervous, the children quickly gathered together to be counted, a little brown cardboard label fixed to their jackets or overcoats giving their name and ultimate destination so that there wouldn't be any mistakes. A count was done, then done again, the children being told to stand still, and yet the count still indicated there were two children too many. The labels were examined again and it became clear that two of the children had got off at the wrong station. Simon was delighted to see that they were identical twins. Holding each other’s hands tightly they watched nervously as Simon examined their labels for a third time. “It says Aylsford Castle on their labels,” Simon told Victoria in a hushed whisper as he looked around to see if anyone was looking for them. As the train left to continue its journey down to Hastings, Victoria licked her lips and gazed lovingly at the pretty little girls, both identical but for a ribbon in their hair and the name on their label and bags. “Remove their labels,” she told him. “There’re coming with us, two extra for whom there’s no record,” she said, her plain expression betraying her real excitement. Thirty-two children boarded the three coaches to stare out of the windows as they made their way out of the busy market town and into the countryside, passing hop farms and apple orchards that many of the children would probably have never seen before. They travelled through many pretty villages before turning down the private drive and through the carefully tended woodland to Birchwood Grange. The narrow road branched and the coaches turned towards the Priory, stopping outside its entrance and the very excited staff. Rachel gripped her brother's arm and gazed in awe as the children got off the coaches. Daniel let out a slow and low groan, his eyes, like those of his sister, going from child to child, dreaming of when the children would be naked and undergoing their cruel medical research. Louisa Baker beamed and rubbed her hands together excitedly. Here was a diversity that the Spanish children lacked. Here was a richness of difference, in their looks, their attitudes, and in their upbringing. Oh, it was going to be so much fun she thought, forcing the better off children to parade naked before her, to have the poorer children humiliate them, and then to cruelly punish them for making a fuss. Yes the good old days were about to return! Amy Parks took charge; calling out their names and making them step of the coaches where they could be seen. She then gave them a number that would correspond to the number on their bed and drew them aside to create two groups, one of boys, one of girls. Daniel and Rachel Ackermann watched while holding clipboards in their hands. They busily made notes, whereas Victoria and Simon preferred to wait, their anticipation making their blood flow warm. Mary wasn’t at the Priory, but at the garage with her husband. With everyone else at the Priory, she'd decided to use the opportunity to tell her husband the bit about his employers that he wasn't aware of. Her heart was in her throat as she watched his powerful frame clad in his overalls, his chest already stained with oil from his work on the sports car. “Hello! I don't normally get to see you at this time of day,” he told her, none the less glad to see her. She smiled and leant back against the worktable, building the courage to tell him. “Its very quiet today. Where is everybody?” Charlie asked. “Oh! There all over at the Priory seeing to the children who have just arrived from London,” she told him. “How many children are there?” Charlie asked. “About thirty, I think!” Mary explained, her heart quickening. “Victoria and Simon are very generous to take so many,” Charlie said wondering idly where their wealth had come from, as no one seemed to know, or were unwilling to say. “They have their reasons,” Mary told him. “Would you like to know why so many have been taken in?” she asked teasingly, her body arched so that the light cotton dress she wore would fall against her body and outline her curves to him. “Yes? Please tell me,” he urged. “You've got to promise not to tell anyone,” she warned. Charlie grinned and bent to kiss her. “Don't you’ll get my dress dirty!” Mary scolded. “Tell me then!” Charlie said starting to show his irritation at her teasing. Mary smiled, but the nervousness had returned now that the moment of truth was upon her. She reached up to stroke his hair and prayed he wouldn’t be too disgusted with what she was going to tell him, at least not enough to stop loving her. “Simon and Victoria adore having children around them. They love to play with them,” she told him. “Well, I like children too, but not enough to build somewhere where they can come to stay,” he joked. “No, it's more than that,” Mary murmured. She couldn't look at his open and honest face anymore so concentrated on the white vest she could see above the open neck of his overalls. “You see! Simon and Victoria and the teachers up at the Priory enjoy abusing the children and making them perform sexually for them,” she explained. “You're joking,” Charlie gasped. “No I’m not! They also punish them cruelly if they disobey, and for their pleasure,” she told him softly, watching as the revelations started to affect him. “What about you?” Charlie demanded. “Well! I was sexually abused and cruelly punished when I was a child by Victoria and Simon, and since then I have developed a real passion for doing the same to the children at the Priory,” Mary told him, her heart beating quickly as she roughly caressed his large cock through his overalls. “Stop it! You're getting me all excited,” he gasped. “It doesn’t disgust you them?” Mary asked, squeezing his cock. “No! Not if it gives you pleasure,” Charlie replied. “Perhaps I could help you?” he asked excitedly. “Yes! Of course,” Mary said, hoping that this would help to deflect his passions away from her for a while. Sliding away from his loose embrace she opened the back door of the garage. “Alicia!” Mary shouted. A little Spanish girl came to the back door and stepped in, a nervous look on her otherwise pretty face. “Present yourself!” Mary said sharply. Biting her lower lip in nervousness, the child reached for the large buttons down the front of her pretty dress and undid them, one after another, not stopping until all had been undone and she could shrug the material from her shoulders. Then, with hardly a pause for her spellbound audience to notice how small and cute her budding breasts were becoming, she leant forward, dragging her panties down her thighs and stepping out of them before straightening up again. Naked, and her thighs wide apart as she had been taught, her hairless cunt was fully visible, the split lips nicely curved and presented. “Jesus,” Charlie breathed, his eyes wide and round, his mouth hanging open. “Alicia knows just how to please, and just what will happen to her bottom if she doesn’t,” Mary told him. “Don’t you Alicia?” Mary asked. “Yes Miss!” Alicia said nervously. “How old are you girl?” Mary asked. “Eleven, Miss,” Alicia, replied in her best English. As she turned her body, she showed off the fading scars of recent punishments and Charlie was delighted to see that they weren’t just confined to her bottom and thighs, but covered her breasts and cunt as well. “Alicia also knows what we are going to do to her, just because we feel like it, don’t you girl?” Mary asked, pinching her bottom and bringing the child to her toes with the pain. “Yes, yes Miss!” Alicia replied struggling through her tears. “Like, like what?” Charlie mumbled. “Do you really want to see?” Mary teased. “Oh yes!” Charlie begged, his cock now rampant. Taking hold of Alicia’s hair, Mary pulled her back, her smile growing as the girl whimpered and arched, her budding little breasts now all but flattened. She reached for the girl’s dark nipples, and taking them between her fingers and thumbs, twisted them harshly until the child squealed and panted with the pain. “What have you got here that I can use? A length of leather, a belt, a short flexible rod perhaps?” Mary asked her husband, casting Alicia aside. Charlie licked his lips, and pulled out a short length of belt that had once been a fan belt. It was fabric impregnated with rubber and just short of two feet in length. “Will this do?” he asked. “Oh Yes!” Mary told him. Taking it and grinning, her eyes lit up as Alicia saw the cruel belt and began to weep. If she needed any further proof of her husband’s desire to help her, she had only to look at his flushed face or the passionate way he looked at Alicia’s naked body. “Shall I hold her down?” Charlie asked. Mary grinned wolfishly and shook her head. “There’s no need, Alicia knows not to disobey,” she told him. All the fears she had held that Charlie might not like it, that he might be disgusted and leave her had dissipated, leaving her with a warm feeling and passionate desire to punish the Spanish girl's cute little bottom. “How shall we position her?” she asked her husband. Charlie looked around for something suitable and then pointed to the curved boot of the sports car. “Perfect!” Mary replied. With Charlie looking on, an amazed look on his face, Alicia was drawn over the back of the car so her upper body was pushed down onto the back seat, her bottom and thighs widely parted by the curve of the boot. Looking like a man whose had just woken up to the greatest Christmas he had ever seen, he stood to one side and watched as his wife began to whip the girl’s bottom. Each firm swipe of the belt brought a jerk and cry from the child, and a begging look to her eyes. Charlie’s cock was now rampant, the whipping of the little girl the most erotic thing he seen in a long while. Mary appeared to be a completely different person, her face strong and aggressive, and her body that much more alluring as she brought the belt down hard across the little girl's bottom again. A fresh squeal erupted from the child and she bounced and struggled, sobbing her heart out as the pain surged through her. Her pert little bottom looked divine, stripped with varying degrees of pinkness to create such a contrast to her otherwise golden skin. With each stroke, Charlie felt his excitement rise. His eyes devoured his wife, and fed on the sight of Alicia’s bottom, as it slowly grew sore from the harsh strokes. It seemed to develop a definite sheen to its surface, a glowing that made his heart beat faster and his breath quicken. Mary stopped and sucked in a much needed breath of air, her attention turning from Alicia’s livid looking bottom to her husband, a surge of relief flowing over her as she saw the massive bulge in his overalls and the look of desire he was giving her. “I hope you don't think I’m going to let you fuck me?” she said to him, nodding to his now rampant cock. “But Mary?” he begged, needing relief more than he'd ever needed it before, even after all her teasing on their wedding night. “No! That’s what Alicia is here for!” she told him. Once again, Charlie was shocked and yet equally aroused, both at the same time. The girl lay, as she had been positioned, quivering but still, crying softly with the certainty that her ordeal wasn't over yet. “You're serious aren’t you?” he gasped. “Yes I am! Fuck the little tart! Mary told him sternly. For a moment he was still, astonished by the change in the woman he thought he knew so well. Then, his excitement awakening him, he tore at his overalls, pulling them off so he could undo his trousers and release his rampant cock. Hearing him getting ready, Alicia cried harder, knowing her rape was next. She pleaded softly in Spanish, yet the large strong hands were upon her tender bottom, kneading the cheeks without any care for her pain, pulling them apart until she felt herself opened, both her anus and vagina laid defenceless to him. “Oh Charlie!” Mary gasped. He was so strong and masculine beside the little girl. “That’s it!” she gasped excitedly, tearing at her own clothes. A foot on the bumper, a knee drawn up on the boot, Charlie pulled the girl towards him and watched as he positioned his cock to her little vagina. It looked obscenely large against her; yet, with a push he was in her, his breath rapid and short as he pushed deeper into her vice like cunt. “Harder!” Mary demanded, watching him with bated breath and quickly opening her dress so he could better see her. “Harder, harder,” she kept repeating, demanding more and more from her husband. He thrust his cock harder and deeper and swooned with delight as his efforts were accompanied by the child’s struggles and wails of pain that connected both to his cock and his brain. Urged on and on, he ignored the child screams, pushing her further over the boot, forcing her tense thighs further apart. He pried the soft flesh apart and panted as he thrust again and again, forcing himself into her, forcing her cunt to yield, and finally driving his cock fully into her. “Yes that’s it! Fuck her,” Mary screamed. Her fingers found her own aching cunt and her hips jerked forward. Then spreading her thighs wide, she extended a finger and flicked it back and forth across the swollen hood of her clitoris. Panting for breath, Charlie did just what his wife asked for, his large hands on the girl's slender hips, drawing her back and forth along his cock while his attention alternated from watching Alicia’s cunt stretch around his cock, admiring her little bottom, and watching his wife roughly maul her own cunt, her fingers gleaming with her wetness. His hard fucking of little Alicia couldn't last forever, however much he wanted it too. With a yell of sheer joy, he felt his body explode within him, and then his cock jerk and swell with the girl's tight vaginal grip, as he shot his seed time and time again into her until exhaustion overtook him and, with a breathless sob, he drew out from her. Mary was there, grabbing him and pushing him backwards, grabbing a hold of his cock and taking into her mouth. She licked, sucked and swallowed with her urgent need to taste the sweet juices caused by his cruel rape of the little Spanish girl. When at last none was left to taste, she concentrated on getting him hard again, her mouth and hand roughly caressing his cock and balls until he was rampant and throbbing once again. Standing, she flipped the hem of her dress up her back and turned, offering her bottom to his admiring gaze. “Come on Charlie. Now me,” she urged breathlessly. With a grin and a groan he was there, easing into her to sigh with happiness as he felt her slowly accommodate him. He moved with long strokes, more powerfully than he thought she had liked only to hear her pant and sob with desire. Nearby Alicia watched, her tears drying as she gazed spellbound at the couple fucking, the woman pushing back on to his cock, the man quickening his pace with the loss of his breath. Holding herself and rubbing her sore cunt gently, Alicia watched them cry out and strain, a sudden surge of sensation deep inside making her clamp her thighs together tightly over her fingers and then with her eyes closed, let the pleasure transcended her burning bottom and the yearning that was now coming from her empty vagina. ****** After the roll call was taken and the twins added to the register, Miss Park led the boys up to their dormitory and Miss Baker did the same with the girls. The timid children stepped into the large room, practically all of them noticing the large partition that kept them separate. Only eight feet high, it allowed sound to travel easily between the two rooms. The partition was made from a very thin material on purpose and Simon imagined it would only take a short time before little holes appeared in it out of sheer curiosity, to see what was on the other side. He certainly hoped so anyway. “Right! Stand by your beds,” the teachers called, as Victoria and Simon chose their own hidden vantage points to watch. The children looked about them, the cleverer ones working out which bed was theirs and smirking at their success. However, some had to ask for help, admitting that they had forgotten the number of the bed they had been given. “You've earned yourself a demerit,” the teachers told those who took the longest to do as they were told. Their names were written down in the little black books the teachers carried, a smile from the teacher to reassure the child, the entry however promising a painful punishment. “Put your things away now. It's nearly time for lunch,” Miss Baker told the girls while, just on the other side of the partition, Miss Park was telling the boys the same. “The bathroom is through there,” Miss Park pointed out to the boys, when she heard Miss Baker telling the girls. A boy hurried in and then quickly ran out again. “Please Miss! There aren’t any doors,” he complained. “Go on! Don't be shy,” Miss Park, scolded him, purposefully turning her full attention towards him. “Miss!” he whined, begging her for an alternative. “Are you complaining boy!” Miss Park sighed, writing his name down in her little black book while he blushed and squirmed, torn between having to empty his bladder in full view, and getting a demerit for his stubbornness. “Oh stop being a baby and go and do what you have to,” she snapped, her eyes threatening immediate punishment if he argued with her for any longer and followed him back in. Blushing hotly, his face looking as only an adolescent boy's could in those conditions, he stepped up to the open urinal and undid the zip on his trousers, turning his body to try and hide what he was doing from the now smiling woman. Miss Park laughed and moved even closer, moving right up to his side to watch in silence as he held his cock and peed in nervous dribbles. “Oh! You'll have to do better than that,” she warned as he quickly zipped his trousers up again. “I’m sorry!” he said, turning just long enough for her to get a good look at his cock and balls. Delighted with what she had seen, Louisa made a note of his slowness in her little black book, with a reminder for her to help improve his poor peeing technique. Miss Baker was also getting complaints from the girls, but told them that they had better get used to the facilities. “They are a lot more hygienic like this,” she explained, as they gathered round to stare at the porcelain holes in the floor and the enema apparatus that hung from the walls. “Couldn't we at least have partitions?” one little girl asked, her clothes showing quality, right down to her polished patent leather shoes. “No, you can't,” she answered sharply. “Well, I refuse to use them. I'll telephone my mother and tell her to send someone to take me home,” the precocious, but attractive little girl told her, just like her mother would have done she felt sure. Louisa grinned as she took out her little black book. “Jennifer Madley isn't it?” she asked calmly. Her eyes sparkled as the little girl lost her haughty expression to look nervously at the little black book, and then lick her lips as she nodded. “How old are you girl?” Miss Baker snapped. “Twelve Miss,” Jennifer answered, wondering just what that had to do with anything. “Twelve! Well you are acting like a six-year-old.” Miss Baker told her. “Where's the telephone?” she asked timidly. “I'll show you in a minute,” Miss Baker told her before marching the other girls down the stairs to the main hall. Simon had a speech prepared and all the children were to be gathered together for it. “I demand to use the telephone, now!” Jennifer stormed, stamping her foot on the wooden floor of the hall while, the other children filed quietly in front of where Simon and Victoria were seated on a podium. She was hoping the girl could have waited until at least Victoria had been free to join them. Punishing a child was much more enjoyable if there was someone else present, someone to watch and perhaps even to help her. Louisa looked towards Victoria who had noticed the tension building and waited for her to signal that she could go ahead and deal with her little problem. “Oh! Very well,” Miss Baker said, finally relenting but not without a very good reason. Even now she was starting to grow fond of the attractive child and an opportunity to spend some time in private abusing her sexually under the pretext of correcting her manners, would certainly go a long way to satisfying her aching passion for the precocious child. “This way,” she said, marching the child at a quick pace down a long corridor to her private quarters. The room wasn’t much to look at but the girl hardly cast a second glance as she looked around for the telephone. “Where’s the telephone?” Jennifer demanded. Louisa took off her cardigan and the little gold watch she wore on her right wrist. “There isn’t one. I have brought you here to punish you for your appalling lack of manners,” she told her, taking a band from her pocket and drawing her hair back and out of the way. “What do you mean? I want to go back,” Jennifer said, her voice breaking as she tried to escape. Louisa appeared to be quite calm as she took hold of the girl's arm, spinning her around until she faced a stout leather armchair, her back to the door. “What are you going to do to me? I demand you let me go!” Jennifer squealed, her voice raising an octave along with her nervousness. “It’s time you were taught a proper lesson,” Miss Baker told her. Louisa’s smile and pleasant exterior dropped away as she pulled the child closer, close enough for her to smell her shampoo, to see her eyes spitting fire and her expression that demanded total obedience. Jennifer tried stepping away, shaking her head and looking wildly for an escape. The more she looked, the more terrified she appeared, and the more her mistress grinned at her. Louisa let her move back from the armchair, and then reached out as a Cobra strikes it's prey, quickly grabbed her arm making her squeal and struggle. Almost immediately the other arm struck out, the palm landing sharply across the girl's face, its force spinning her head round. Before she knew what was happening, Miss Baker had drawn her forward and then deposited her unceremoniously over the back of the armchair, a hand in her hair holding her bent and still, gasping for air and whimpering with her nervousness. “Ouch! You're hurting me,” Jennifer shouted, livid that her hair was being painfully pulled back. “You think that hurts do you?” Miss Baker said with a feral grin. She swept Jennifer's dress up over her back and had to smile at the way her knickers had ridden deep between the cheeks of her tight little bottom, leaving it deliciously bare. “What are you going to do to me?” Jennifer asked nervously, still trying to struggle. Louisa shook with pleasure, looking excitedly at the bottom she was about to cruelly spank. Without answering her question, she started to pinch and twist the cheeks of the little girl’s bottom until she started squealing and squirming. This gave her an excuse to tighten her hold on her and, with a loud cry of pain, Jennifer fell still. “Now listen to me! Whatever I do, you are to remain still!” Miss Baker warned, her voice hard and unforgiving. “Yes, yes, but please don't hurt me!” Jennifer wept. “Do you think that I'm going to let you off being punished after the way you spoke to me earlier?” Louisa asked her, her breath shortening now as she roughly pulled the girl’s knickers off, and continued to cruelly pinch her tender bottom. “Please! You're hurting me,” Jennifer wailed, kicking her thighs out uncontrollably. Miss Baker put one leg in front of the other effectively imprisoning the child’s legs between hers. Then, with one more tug on her hair, she brought her hand down hard to start her much-needed spanking. Jennifer had never been spanked before, and howled as the pain built up in her bottom, groaning with every additional spank that rained down. The burning sensation continued with the rhythm of the cruel spanking making her squeal and struggle. “It hurts, it hurts!” she wailed, crying openly. “You've deserved a sound spanking, and that’s what you are going to get!” Louisa panted, her eyes bright with excitement as she delivered another harsh smack to the child's bottom, then another and another, briefly stopping to recover her breath and admire how her bottom was starting to glow. Louisa reached out to caress the smooth firm flesh, adoring the tight little curves and the tender glow. Then her hand was rising again, her eyes focusing on the peach hills between which her anal crease opened as she struggled. With renewed vigour, Louisa spanked the child, her ears ringing to Jennifer's cries as, smack after smack, they produced an ever glowing sheen, where handprint and handprint soon obscured each imprint to leave just a circle of brightly glowing flesh. Jennifer, exhausted by struggling and screaming, was soon left crying unremittingly, a little extra cry escaping her along with a jerk as each new smack added to her torment. Yet, in truth, the additional smacks added little to the raging heat and torment of her tender bottom. Louisa stopped the spanking once again, and ran her hand lovingly over the firm little cheeks. Heat invaded her tingling palm and she smiled before using her thumb and finger to draw one bottom cheek from the other and spy the girl’s anus and the tender opening to her sweet little cunt. With a startled cry, Jennifer jerked and tensed, as she tried to hide herself. Full of her own pain, she hadn’t seen the look of fierce anger on Miss Baker’s face. “I see! It’s like that is it?” Miss Baker spat, pulling the girl erect by her hair. Jennifer howled in pain, a hand going to her hair, hesitating to try and stop the woman in case it brought more agonising pain. Her other hand flew to her bottom, rubbing and squeezing, trying desperately to ease the invading burning. “Please Miss, I didn't mean it, I didn't” Jennifer babbled, drawn along by the pull of her hair, unaware of where they were heading until they were there; in Miss Baker’s bedroom. Her hair now released she cupped her bottom in both hands and rubbed, the grin her mistress gave her making her blush, but she didn’t stop. “I didn't mean it,” she repeated, beginning to cry again as she came to realise that an even more painful punishment was to come. “Remove your clothes,” Miss Baker panted, staring at the child with a renewed excitement. “Miss!” Jennifer wailed. “You heard!” Miss Baker told the girl, her hand raised threateningly. Louisa watched as the girl undressed, her sobs growing louder with her new level of humiliation, until she finally stood naked before her. The child’s budding breasts stood upright, her pubis stood high from her tapering loins, and her pert little bottom was deliciously sore from the recent spanking. Her passions now inflamed, Louisa reached under the bed for the stout rubber cock that she used late at night, and attached a long cord and hook to it. Taking it to the door, she hooked it over the top and adjusted the length of the cord so it stood out from the door’s surface at the right height for the child. A flat piece attached to the bottom edge of the dildo held it firmly outwards. “What’s that Miss?” Jennifer asked through her tears, one hand coyly hiding her cunt while the other clutched and rubbed her sore bottom. Jennifer knew it couldn't really be what it looked like, not really, not in a teacher’s room. Tommy Brown had exposed his cock to her only a week ago and, thoroughly disgusted she'd gone straight home to tell her mother. It earned him a sound thrashing, but he deserved it she thought. Miss Baker hummed and smiled stroking the dildo to ensure that the petroleum jelly had been fully smeared across the bulbous head and its long, stout and curved shaft. “Come here,” she told the girl, watching as she approached her, still sniffing and weeping, but now blushing too in her nakedness. “Hands down by your side!” Miss Baker spat, as Jennifer tried to hide herself. “Never try to hide yourself, do you understand?” she asked. “But Miss! It's naughty! Jennifer wailed. “Never mind what you've been told. You are to do as I say or you’ll earn yourself another spanking,” Louisa told her. Turning the child around so that she could admire the glowing cheeks of her bottom, she watched with delight as the girl swooned as her magical fingers roughly caressed her anus and cunt from between the cheeks of her bottom. “Right, you little tart!” Miss Baker spat, her eyes once more glowing with delight. With a hand holding the suspended cock still, she swept her arm around the girl's waist and, with little real effort, lifted and pulled her back, towards the waiting dildo. Jennifer didn't really understand what was happening behind her and yet wailed anyway. Something slippery slid up and down and around her bottom, and she squealed in principle rather than with any pain. Then, suddenly, it all changed. Her struggling body had brought the rounded tip of the unforgiving thing against her anus and, rather than being pulled off of it, Miss Baker let her drop down onto it. Squealing with horror and with a certain amount of pain, Jennifer stretched herself, her mouth and eyes widening as she felt herself descend on the hard and cold thing behind her. Her anus constricted and fluttered, wanting to expel it and unable to do so. She found her feet, and years of ballet classes helped her to stand on her toes as she made an effort to rid herself of the thing inside her bottom. “Miss!” she squealed, and yet the woman took her wrists and tied them to the cords holding the thing against the door. When she pulled on them experimentally, the horrid thing in her bottom surged painfully upwards. Louisa chuckled and stood back to admire the girl. Jennifer tottered on her toes and squirmed on the dildo. The upward angle of it stopped her sliding off of it, and the fit was too tight for her to jump from it either. So she stood erect, panting and crying, looking at her mistress beseechingly. “This will help,” she told the girl, lifting up a martinet whip that had long strands made from the laces of soldier’s boots, but nowhere as painful as the heavier ones made from leather. Yet to a novice like Jennifer, the feel of it striking her cunt and breasts while the dildo was in her bottom would work its magic, and send her off into howls of anguish long before the pleasure began to bloom. Jennifer, panting for breath as she tried not to move on the dildo, starred at the whip, shaking her head in disbelief. Surely her mistress couldn't be meaning to use that on her. Yet as she watched, Miss Baker swung her arm back and brought the whip down hard across her stomach. Jennifer screamed, her head flung back as the sensations swept into her groin. She wept, her toes beginning to hurt, as her bottom clenched itself around the dildo deep inside her, squeezing it and throbbing hotly around it. Breathless with passion, Miss Baker swept the whip round again, this time letting the slender strands sweep up between her legs, stinging her thighs and the apex of her proud vulva, making her scream again, then jerk up and down on the dildo as she tried expelling the hot sensations coursing through her. Now she whipped her breasts, facing the child to sweep the last inch of strands across them, flicking first forehand and then backhand to include each erect nipple while the girl panted and squirmed, her eyes growing glazed as the multitude of burning, tingling, biting and stinging sensations coursed through her. “Starting to enjoy it now, aren't you?” Miss Baker teased, flicking the whip lower and lower, before concentrating on her proud little Venus mound. Jennifer gasped aloud and shook as each strike on her tender pubis forced her bottom to push down on the dildo. The sensation no longer hurt, but brought on different feelings, each just as fierce. “No, no,” she begged panting and shaking, tossing her head in an effort to deny what was being done to her. “You think I don't know?” Miss Baker grinned. She spun the whip and brought it up under her pubic mound, watching Jennifer's reaction to it and grinning as the girl tried thrusting her pelvis forward, stretching her anus around the unyielding dildo. “Mummy!” Jennifer shouted out, as she descended the full length of the dildo and opened her thighs so the whip could strike the full length of her overheated little cunt. The feeling within her caused her head to crack against the door, yet it went unfelt as her body erupted, the sensations far in excess of anything she'd ever produced whilst masturbating with her fingers. Her throat taut, only a high-pitched squeal escaped her lips. Unable to control herself any longer, her urethra opened and hot yellow pee slipped between her upper thighs before breaking to run in bright rivulets down each thigh. Miss Baker stood back and grabbed the camera that she had recently bought. In moments, while Jennifer still continued to pee down her thighs and rock her bottom up and down on the dildo, she had taken three photographs. She would give them to the Ackerman’s to be part of their research collection, and perhaps they might experiment on the adorable little tart while she was present in return. |