CHRISTINA'S SCHOOL FOR WAYWARD GIRLS

BY KENNA
kenna198401@aol.com

[ part 3 ]

With no more girls to deal with, I find myself pushing a broom up and down the hallway. Feeling like a janitor, I wonder if any of the teachers are going to need help today. That’s when I hear the clip clop of high heel shoes coming down the hallway. I turn to see who’s behind me. The oriental woman eyes me and says, “You’re the headmaster’s son?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I reply.

“William, is it?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I’m Ms. Kwan.”

“Can I help you?”

“Can you?” she asks cryptically. “Follow me and we’ll see.” She strides off back in the direction from which she came and I follow. She turns the corner and goes into the first room on the left. As I step into the room I see a naked girl eying the door.

The girl is more than naked. She’s naked and helpless. I look at the contraption that has her in its control. It’s a wooden box about two feet by two feet set on the floor. Her hands and feet are stuck into the box through holes that are too small for her hands and feet to fit through. The effect is like stocks except she’s bent at the waist, her feet and hands stuck to the floor.

“What’s her name?” I ask. I’ve known the name of every other girl I’ve spanked so far by virtue of the note they’ve handed me.

“Betsy,” says Ms. Kwan.

Betsy has nice long legs, perhaps accentuated by the fact that she’s bent at the waist and showing lots of leg. It’s hard to tell just how old she is in that position, but Ms. Kwan (I find out later) is an eighth grade teacher. Her tits are a little cramped by the position she’s in, so I can’t get a good look at them. She’s wearing a ball gag, so I wonder if she’s been talking back in class.

“You know what to do?” asks Ms. Kwan, breaking me from my trance.

“What do you want me to do?” I reply, thinking I am merely at the beck and call of the teachers.

She hands me a condom. “Fuck the naughty bitch,” she says and leaves the room.

Fuck the naughty bitch, I think as I approach the bound and gagged girl. Apparently that was supposed to be obvious to me, perhaps because it’s the one thing Ms. Kwan couldn’t do to Betsy. Her ass is quite red already and I wonder just what she’s done to earn the wrath of Ms. Kwan. Betsy squirms and moans into the gag as I close the distance between us. Now, understand this… I’m a horny 14-year-old. Betsy is a helpless 13-year-old. I’ve got no training in how to discipline her or even any knowledge of what she’s done wrong. Heck, I don’t need no stinking training, I think.

“Holy crap, Betsy,” I say as I reach for her. I’ve been told to fuck her, but now I’m alone with a pretty, helpless girl about my own age. I reach under her and cup her tits. “What the hell did you do to deserve this?” I ask the rhetorical question. “You piss off Ms. Kwan pretty bad?”

“Unnn, unnn,” says Betsy as I fondle her and grind my hips into her bare ass. As she’s squirming, I spot a wooden paddle hanging from a strap on the wall. I pick up the paddle and she moans in resignation, sounding a bit like a muffled, “Oh, hell, no.” Tempting as the idea is, her ass is pretty red and Ms. Kwan’s instructions were pretty explicit. I put the paddle back on the hook.

The idea of raping Betsy as punishment for some unknown transgression is pretty hot, so I’m already hard. I pull down my pants and put on the condom. To get a whine from Betsy, all I have to do is run my hands over her ass. It’s warm to the touch and must be pretty sore. Her pussy lips are swollen and visible from behind, squeezed between her slender thighs. I finger her pussy, feeling her juices, and then push my cock between her lips. “Aaannggg,” says Betsy as I violate her. The 13-year-old is nice and tight, squeezing me with her pussy and firm thighs as I stroke in and out of her from behind.

As I start pounding hard into her, I notice the box that she’s stuck in must have some weight to it because I’m not knocking her off balance. Anyway, it leaves me free to use my hands to fondle her rather than support her as I fuck her. I can reach under her and fondle her growing tits, feeling the nipples harden as I play with them.

I fuck her for a few minutes. She’s kind of squirming, but she’s pretty much stuck in position. It’s hard to tell if she’s excited, in pain, mad, or what since all she can do is grunt and squirm her hips around. When I cum, I’m pretty sure she hasn’t cum.

Finished, I pull off the condom and drop it in the trash. I pull up my pants and go out to the hall. Ms. Kwan is waiting there. “Where’s the condom?” she asks, looking like I was supposed to present her with it like a trophy.

She seems upset that I d dropped it in the trash, but she fishes it out and examines it. Then she shoos me out, leaving me to wonder what she’s going to do with the condom and the cum inside it. But, there’s no windows in the classrooms, so no chance of me finding out.

The rest of the afternoon goes by without any more opportunities to punish any of the girls. The school is pretty quiet and by the time dad drives me home, the halls are pretty clean. Emily is quiet in the back seat, miffed that I’m working at the school, but relieved that she avoided me all afternoon.

Once we get home, I follow dad to his office. It’s his private territory and a safe place for us to talk. He raises his eyebrows as I follow him in. “Something on your mind, Billy?”

“Yeah, dad,” I’m a little embarrassed at the question, but I need to know. “Umm, does mom know what goes on at the school?” I mean, she’s the mayor of Wayward, so I’m assuming that she does. That would mean she knows what I’m doing at my job.

“Your mother is a Wayward Girl,” says dad. “I thought you knew that.” That makes sense. The most successful girls are all Wayward Girls. She is the mayor and that’s pretty successful.

“Oh, no,” I say. “I didn’t know…” I mean, I guess I did know that, but I’d put up this mental block. How could I picture my own mom doing…? But, my mind is racing now. Dad worked at the school. They’re the same age. Wow, I had this image of mom in the box like Betsy. Was that how dad met mom?

“Are you OK?” asks dad, looking anxiously at me.

“Yeah, I’m… OK,” I say. “I just never…”

“She’s still your mom, Billy,” says dad. “But, you’ve got the wrong idea here. We’re training and disciplining these girls. We’re not turning them into sluts. Your mother is a fine upstanding woman and a pillar of the community. She’s all the better for the time she spent at Wayward School.”

“I know, dad,” I say, not sure I believe it.

“Someday I expect you’ll marry a Wayward Girl,” says dad. “Lots of advantages to that. “They’re successful, they work hard, they’re open minded, and they make a good wife.”

“Yeah, OK,” I say, thinking about Betsy. But, there’s lots of time to settle on the right one.

As I leave, I hear dad say, “And they’re pretty damn good in bed.” I turn around, shocked that he would say something like that, but he’s acting as if nothing was said. Maybe I misunderstood him. But lately dad’s been surprising me a lot.