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Subject: Andrew Plays With The Girls 121kb g+b, Fg, spank, cbt, ds, enema, incest
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Andrew Plays With The Girls 121kb g+b, Fg, spank, cbt, ds, enema, incest
I grew up in a Bronx apartment building with my working mom, so I was a
latchkey kid. From 2:45 to 6 my girlfriends and I had the place to
ourselves. We'd spend hours talking about cute boys in our 6th grade
class, how stupid boys were in general, and why our moms wouldn't let us
wear
make-up, or date.
About half way through the school year a fifth grade boy moved in
upstairs. We'd giggle like girls do when we saw him in the hall or elevator,
and
would talk about how sweet it was that it made him blush.
One afternoon as luck would have it there he was with us on the
elevator. Carol, my best friend suddenly asked him if he'd like to come over
for
cookies and cokes. Three shades of red later, about the time we were
reaching the 5th floor, he muttered something about how he wasn't
allowed, about how his mom would kill him.
"Stupid" said Carol, slapping him lightly on the top of his head,
"we're not gonna tell."
"W..w..well, maybe l..l..later" and it was then we realized why he
didn't have any friends yet. His stutter.
I thought "you poor kid".
Later, upstairs in my room Carol said it made her want to hit him. We
talked about that for awhile, Carol getting more and more explicit about
how
and where she wanted to hit the "little cripple" and Lane, our other friend
and I trying to calm her down some. The more Carol talked, the more SHE
turned red, saying "I'd punch him in the gut, make him cry, I'd smack his
face, maybe give him a black eye"... and on and on.
Eventually Lane and I were able to turn the conversation to the latest
DiCaprio film, but all afternoon, until Carol went to her own place, I
could see the fire in her eyes.
Days passed with no sight of Andrew (as we soon learned his name was)
and the whole thing pretty much slipped from my mind. Carol and Lane and
I
returned to our normal routine of reading the latest teen magazines and
gossiping. Andrew's name came up once in awhile, but only in
relationship to how lonely he looked all the time, and his eating alone in
the
cafeteria, and his spending a lot of time in the library.
Almost 2 weeks later, as Lane and Carol were getting comfortable in my
bedroom, and I had just finished checking phone messages, one of which
was from my mom...she'd be late, again, eat something in the freezer for
dinner, and to behave ourselves, blah, blah...there was a timid knock on
the
door. Lane jumped up to answer it, and there was Andrew, red faced and
looking ashamed, as usual, in his baggy shirt and tight, too small shorts
standing there trying to say something.
"My..m..m..m..m..mom said I c..c..c..could come over if it's
oh..oh..okay."
Carol, hearing this while looking through my 45's walks imperiously
into the front room, grabs the poor kid by the front of the shirt and yanking
him inside, kicks the door closed behind him.
"Well, well, little boy. So you want to come and play with the girls,
huh?"
Released from her grasp on his shirt, and clearly frightened, he
mutters under his breath "y..yes."
Even at 12, I knew enough to try to get things under control. I quickly
asked Andrew if he'd like some cookies or a coke. Lane, also sensing
something, started for the fridge, saying "be right back, Andrew, why
don't you sit down."
"Well...there are so many fun games we can play, Andrew. Do you like
cowboys and Indians? Have you ever played nazi prisoner? how about doctor?"
I
could have killed Carol, but she was so obviously enjoying herself, I decided
to play along, at least for the time being.
Lane came back in with a glass of coke and a cookie in time to catch
the end of this.
"I don't think we are supposed to play doctor, Care, we could get in
BIG trouble."
"So who's gonna tell?" Carol says, that fire is right back in her eyes.
"I..I..I've p..p..played uh..d..d..doctor before" from Andrew. Jeez I
think to myself, boys are soooo stupid.
"Well goodie! Then let's just get started. Andrew, you be the patient,
of course, I'll be the doctor, and Lane and Liz can be nurses."
So far, so good. A little curiosity about boys like most 12 year old
girls have is pretty normal, Andrew seemed willing, Lane wasn't saying
anything. Clearly Carol was going to get Andrew to show us his privates.
Sort of
a thrilling idea.
"Liz, help our patient off with his shirt, Laney, go and get the
thermometer and stethoscope." The coffee table quickly became the examination
table. Andrew stood up from the couch and sat down where I pointed. Lane
started to ask something but Carol shushed her and said "just go do it."
As I started to unbutton his shirt, if it's possible, Andrew turned
even a deeper shade of red. Each button opened exposed more of his skinny
chest, and more of the blush which now reached just below his tiny nipples.
I
thought for awhile that he couldn't look me in the eye as I stripped
him of his shirt, but then realized that he was entranced looking into those
fiery eyes of Carol.
I finished with the buttons on his shirt front, and started to pull it
off behind him, then realized he had cufflinks which prevented me from
completing my task.
"Just leave those" Carol said with a wicked grin, "that way his arms
can't move, and he won't be able to interfere with my examination."
I gently pushed Andrew back, onto his constricted arms, and saw right
away that the "examination table" was too short. I started to say that maybe
we could find something better, but then I was shushed...Carol's gleaming
eyes showing me I was to hold my tongue. The length of the coffee table
meant that there was no support for Andrew's head, his feet hanging over
the
other end. Laying on his arms meant that he was in a reverse "spanking
position." His hips higher than the rest of his body. His feet on the floor,
his
head tilted back.
For the first time I was able to see a boy's crotch not only unobstructed,
but pushed forward as if I was invited to take a look. Using some imagination
I was able to discern in his shorts what might be a penis,
and there, just below, his testicles. I wondered just how far Carol would
take this.
Just then Lane comes back, a host of kitchen tools clasped to her
chest. She dumped them unceremoniously onto the couch next to our "patient."
She
looked a little peeved at first but then, seeing the humiliating position
Andrew had assumed, let out a little gasp.
Thus encouraged, Carol began.
"So, our patient is having tummy troubles, is he?"
A slight nod from Andrew, eyes tightly closed.
"So, first we test reflexes, don't we, nurse?"
As she says this she picks up a cast iron ladle. At a nod from Lane,
Carol raises the ladle high and brings it down with a thud sound onto
Andrew's raised abdomen.
His reaction was immediate, but surprisingly muted. His head came up to
about level, his feet left the floor a few inches, and a hiss escaped
his mouth.
"Not good" says Carol. "Let me try it again."
Again the cast iron ladle is raised, again, and with even more force it
hits Andrew's abdomen in about the same place. His reaction is again
immediate, but rather subdued. A hiss, a slight lifting of his feet, an "ow"
follows, and this seems to enrage Carol.
"Nurse Liz, find something to keep our patient quiet."
Fully into the game now, and not helping but noticing that the crotch
area of Andrew's shorts is changing in an interesting and amazing way, I
run
to my room and dig through my hamper to find a pair of panties.
"Nurse Laney, I won't have our patient moving around so much, please
restrain him."
Returning with a pair of my panties I see in Lane's eyes the same fire
as in Carol's. I wondered if my eyes were shining, too.
Lane takes the dirty panties from my hand, pushes them into Andrew's
mouth, and then slowly, facing Carol and I and the rest of Andrew's torso,
lowers herself onto his face.
"I think it's time for the next test" says Carol. "This one might hurt,
so Nurse Laney, be sure you keep him quiet.Nurse Liz, pull his shorts
down, and hold his legs."
I slowly pulled his Speedo type shorts down past his hips, down past
his crotch, and pulled back in surprise as his erection nearly hit me in
the eye. I needn't have worried. It was no more than an inch or 2 in
length, and the weirdest thing of all, after everything I'd learned in sex
ed, he
didn't seem to have any testicles.
"Hee hee...look at that!" Carol laughed, joined by Lane and I.
"mph" from Andrew.
"Let him talk, Nurse Laney."
Lane raises up from Andrew's face, hesitating just a bit, I was to find
out later that she was embarrassed about the wet spot in her panties.
(Jeez, Lane, all you had to say was that he spit on you!)(but my cunny was
on
his NOSE, not his mouth!)
After Lane removed my panties, his mouth now free to speak, such as he
could, he began..."m..m..my mom s..s..says muh..muh..my testicles are
.un..un..undescended."
"Enough from you, patient. Nurse Laney, back where you were, please."
Lane lowers herself back over Andrew's face with a sigh. Carol picks
up, looks closely at and chooses a wooden spoon as her next instrument.
"Nurse Liz, we need to take the patient's temperature, now. Please
raise his legs."
Totally into the game now, seeing Andrew not just cooperating, but
enjoying it, I pulled his shorts off from around his ankles and grabbing
those
ankles, lifted them up. Lane took over, pulling them to each side of
her own narrow chest. Now Andrew's anus was fully exposed to all of our gazes.
Never having seen my own, or anyone else's for that matter, I was intrigued.
As Carol placed the wooden spoon near to it, we saw it contract, then
expand, and as the tip started to enter it, contract again.
"STOP THAT" Carol yelled with a hard slap to Andrew's inner thigh with
her hand and Andrew forced his anus to relax. Clearly he was no stranger
to
anal intrusion.
The handle of the spoon went deeper and deeper, Carol's eyes seem to
glow as she pushed, saying "Andrew, now you know what's good for you...behave
and it won't hurt...so much."
Tears starting at the corner of his eyes, but still silent, Andrew took
as much of the spoon as Carol pushed in.
Another knock on the door.
Lane and I, intent on the process unfolding before us, ignored it. The
door burst open.
"Just what the FUCK is going on here!?"
The 4 of us looked up. "It's my m..m..mom, oh d..d..dang."
Lane jumped up off Andrew's face...I stepped back and clasped my hands
behind my back. Carol, leaving the spoon handle nearly fully inserted
into Andrew's butt stood up.
I envisioned grounding for life. I envisioned reform school, I
envisioned spankings every night for a month.
Andrew, having not moved an inch since this began, started to lower his
legs, but when the spoon reached the table, realized he was trapped in
the position we had placed him. His mom, Ms. Lauren strode over, grabbed
the spoon and roughly yanked it out, and then grabbing her son by the hair
pulled him to his feet. She finished ripping the shirt off his body, so
freeing his hands. Andrew's first instinct was to cover his erection.
"Don't EVEN think about it" she hissed.
I immediately stopped in the middle of backing away, Lane stopped her
unconscious rubbing of her crotch, Carol hadn't moved, and wasn't about
to. Andrew's hand, which was to cover his penis stopped midway, and then
went to his head to try to alleviate the pain of his hair being pulled.
Carol, Lane and I soon realized that it wasn't us who were in trouble,
it was Andrew. My relief was short lived, though, when I watched as Ms.
Lauren's knee came up abruptly into the place where Andrew's balls
should have been.
"In case you were curious, this" again her knee comes up, Andrew
seeming to have withstood the first blow, doubles over this time obviously
in
severe pain, "is why his testicles haven't descended."
"Wow" Carol breathes..."can I try that?"
"Of course, hon. Maybe your friends would like to help?"
OK, if Andrew's erection had subsided, if Ms. Lauren hadn't had such an
hypnotic effect, if, if, if...Lane and I each grabbed a leg. Lane and I
each pulled those legs wide. Lane and I each watched, me, Andrew's face,
Lane, Andrew's crotch as Carol brought her foot up in a full force kick
between Andrew's legs.
"Gawd, that's good, " Carol says as her eyes seem to glaze over. She
watches studiously as Andrew's eyes scrunch up in anticipation of more coming
pain...she readies herself for another.
"Go ahead, hon, he deserves it" Ms. Lauren says, seeing Carol's
intentions.
Carol takes a look at Andrew's tears, and pitilessly swings her foot up
again. To my surprise, and my friend's, white stuff comes spurting out
of Andrew's penis. Ms. Lauren just drops her hold on her son with a look
of disgust. Following her lead, so do Lane and I. Andrew reaches to hold
his penis.
"Enough for now, girls," Ms. Lauren says softly. "There's lots more I
can teach you if you are interested."
Carol, Lane and I can only nod dumbly as Ms. Lauren leads her naked son,
bent over and retching, out the door.
***********
Andrew pretty much disappeared for a few weeks. Lane, Carol and I got
slowly back into the usual routine, but for days and days it was clear what
was on all our minds: no less than a helpless, naked BOY, a penis, an
erection, his mom, her cruelty, our cruelty. This kind of stuff wasn't taught
in sex ed. What had we done, why did we do it? More to the point, why did
it feel
so...right? Answers to those questions don't come quickly to 12 year
old girls deathly afraid of bringing the subject up with their mothers.
Carol had the bright idea of going to talk with Ms. Lauren. "She gave
him permission to come down and play; she wasn't mad at us. She sort of
seemed, uh, happy about what we did."
Lane agreed; I still wasn't so sure.
"Look," said Lane, "maybe we could just go ask if he can play cards
with us or something."
"What, strip poker?" Carol was getting that gleam in her eye again.
"Well not that, silly, but 'hearts' or 'go fish', or 'war'," I said.
"I know what you want to play, Carol," said Lane. "You want to play
Nazi prisoner, don't you?"
"You've never played Nazi prisoner, what do you know about it?"
"Well you haven't either, have you, stupid?"
I suddenly felt like I had my own "war" on my hands. Carol and Lane
looked
like they were about to square off for a fight.
"Look," I said. "I'll settle this. We'll just call upstairs and see if
Ms.
Lauren will let him come over again, OK?"
So simple a solution. Lane grabbed the phone and called 411 to get the
new
listing for "Lauren" at our address, and dialed.
"Umm, Ms. Lauren? This is Liz's friend Lane? Yeah, I remember. We were
wondering if Andrew's okay. Oh, yeah? Well, nobody has seen him for a
while and we...Oh, okay, that's cool. No, of course we won't. Oh yeah, we'd
like that; in fact that's why I was calling. We can?"
There it was, that unmistakable fire in Lane's eyes. Carol, hearing
this end of the conversation had it too. I'm thinking maybe I had it. I had
no
illusions about how we would be spending the rest of our afternoon.
30 minutes later...That timid knock; who else could it be?
"Come in," the 3 of us chimed; we giggled at the silliness of it.
There's a pause; seconds passed. Lane, Carol and I were nearly
breathless with anticipation. The door opened, and there was Ms. Lauren,
dragging Andrew behind her by the scruff of his neck. Andrew had the now
familiar flushed face. He was dressed very much as he was that "other" day:
shirt too big, shorts too small. It's pretty clear why we hadn't seen him
in
school. Both of his eyes were black, his wrist had an ace bandage, and there
were ugly bluish-yellow welts on the front of his legs.
Ms. Lauren pushed Andrew in front of her roughly. He stumbled a bit but
caught himself in time to prevent falling.
"Oh my God," breathed Lane. "What happened, Andrew? You look awful!"
I was concerned, but at the same time I was suddenly struck by the
incredible beauty of Ms. Lauren. I found myself staring at her very
short blonde hair, aquiline nose, full lips, and to-die-for figure. She
clearly wore no bra beneath her white silk blouse. High heeled shoes sculpted
her legs below her medium length skirt. Oddly, it suddenly occurred to me
that I could now understand love at first sight -- well, maybe if I were
lesbian, I quickly corrected myself.
Lane had rushed over and was stroking Andrew's hair in sympathy. She
led him gently to the couch where Carol was sitting back, an odd smirk on
her
face. I closed my mouth.
"Unfortunately, Andrew got in the middle of an argument I was having
with my, um, former long time companion," explained Ms. Lauren. "Listen,
girls, I have to go out for a few hours. Would you mind very much keeping
an eye
on Andrew? I'd be happy to pay you of course, and I can promise he'll
behave. Won't you, Andrew?"
This last was delivered in a very definitely threatening tone. Andrew
reacted as if slapped.
"Y...y...yes ma'am."
"You mean take care of him like we 'took care of him' last time?"
Carol's first words since my guests' arrival.
Ms. Lauren smiled at Carol, and suddenly Carol didn't look quite so
confident.
"Why yes, dear. I'm sure the four of you will find some fun games to
play together."
With that, and before waiting for our reply, she turned on her heel and
was out the door.
"What's a longtime companion?" asked Lane.
"It means she's a dyke, stupid. A lesbo."
"Please stop calling Lane 'stupid', Carol," I pleaded, "You know as
well as I do that she gets the best grades of all of us."
Carol turned on Andrew. "So is your mom a dyke? Tell us or we'll make
you tell us."
Suddenly, in that instant, the atmosphere in the apartment became
electric.
"I d...d...don't know."
"Okay, then," Carol looked like she was sooo hoping for that answer,
"Laney hold him, I'm going to 'pants' him."
Without hesitation, Lane moved to where she could grab hold of Andrew's
arms, and pulled them behind his back. He winced as Lane manhandled his
bandaged wrapped arm. Carol grabbed hold of the speedos and in a quick
jerk, had them down around his knees. We all gasped in unison when we saw
that the weals on the front of his thighs continued all the way up to his
bellybutton.
"Uh, Carol? Lane? Do you think that maybe he has had enough already?"
"Not 'til I get my answer," Carol recovers quickly, "Laney, roll him
over, we'll give him a spanking."
In seconds, Lane had Andrew over her lap in the classic spanking
position. Carol seated herself on the coffee table across from them, raised
her
arm and brought her hand down onto Andrew's bare bottom. I suppose we all
expected a reaction, but there was not a sound from Andrew; he didn't
even clench his bottom like any of us would have in similar circumstances.
Again Carol brought her hand down, this time on Andrew's other cheek. Again
nothing, not a grunt, not a whimper, just the sound of the spank, and
the outline of Carol's hand in red on Andrew's bottom.
"His thing is getting hard again," Lane announced.
Curious, I reached under Andrew, between Lane's thighs and found that
yes, his penis had indeed grown stiff. This time Andrew did flinch just a
bit, either because he wasn't expecting such a bold groping of his penis,
or
because it was still tender from his mom's whipping.
"You hold onto it, Liz," Carol said, also seeing Andrew's reaction.
With Andrew's small but stiff penis in my grip, Carol resumed her spanking.
"Is (spank) your mom (spank) a dyke? (SPANK)". Carol's face was turning
red with the exertion, or whatever, and Andrew was squirming, I wasn't
quite sure if I should let his penis move up and down in my hand, or if I'm
supposed to hold it tighter. I decided on the latter. Meanwhile, Andrew
was silent.
Lane says, "Let me try; you aren't doing it hard enough, Carol."
"Fine," said Carol, standing. "Is it hot in here or is it just me?"
Lane and I giggled at the old joke.
But it wasn't quite that funny when Carol stripped off her sweater and
shucked her jeans, leaving her in a pretty white singlet and her
panties. "I'm going to the kitchen, anybody need anything?"
Lane, with Andrew still across her knee, had been absently caressing
his bottom. I still had my tight hold onto his penis. Andrew chose that
moment to look up at Carol.
Carol stomped over and angrily slapped Andrew across his face. "Don't
you DARE look at me like that!" Another slap. I felt his penis twitch
twice, once with each slap.
So many new feelings! A boy under my complete control, and even having
his mom's explicit permission...Carol acting like it's the most natural
thing in the world...the tingling of seeing Carol's partial strip tease and
now
the vision of her, half nude... that sorta I-don't-wanna-think-about-it
image of the sway of Ms. Lauren's unencumbered breasts under her silk blouse,
and those pink nipples...and her demanding, imperious manner.
"Yeah," I said. "I'll take a coke."
Lane snorted, Carol laughed, and then an eruption of sound in the
apartment as three twelve-year-old girls laughed uproariously.
Minutes later...
Mostly recovered, tears streaming down our faces, Carol walked off to
the kitchen, with me surreptiously watching her panty clad butt. Lane
starts spanking Andrew in earnest.
Lane, thinking she has something to prove, now spanked with all her
strength. Andrew was all but motionless for the first 20 or spanks. By
thirty, his stiff penis was twitching and there was the occasional
grunt from him. By 60 the strain was showing on Lane, and Andrew's penis
was even stiffer, if that's possible. Andrew has had his eyes tightly shut
since Lane began; now I saw tears at the corner of his eyes.
Carol was now sitting next to me, making occasional comments such as
"harder, Laney," and "look how red his butt is getting." She was so
focused on the scene in front of her I'm not sure if she realized that her
hand was on my knee. Lane changed strategy and began to spank Andrew's thighs.
At an unusually loud groan, Carol's hand moved higher on my leg, absently
caressing the inside of my thigh as we watched, eyes bright. It was starting
to drive me crazy. Slightly embarrassed, I let go of Andrew's twitching penis
and, unable to think of an excuse to get Carol to stop her tickling, decided
on the obvious. I lifted up my own sweater and took it off; then, standing,
shucked off my own jeans. Now I was in just my training bra and panties.
Carol glanced up, but gave no indication that my own partial nudity was of
any consequence.
Laney, exhausted, stopped her spanking. "This isn't working, Carol. Any
bright ideas?"
I remembered then that there was that pretense of "making him talk."
Andrew's bottom and thighs were now dark, dark red. There were
occasional tears from his tightly closed eyes, but little sound from him.
"Liz? Did you pee in your pants?" Lane's question was innocent, more
amused than accusing. I looked down, and was mortified to see a huge wet
spot
on the gusset of my panties.
"No," said Carol, standing and spreading her knees. "She's got the same
thing I do, I'm hotter than a pistol." She reached down to spread open,
and showed us. "Bet you're the same way," teased Carol with a grin.
"Yeah, OK, I am."
"Show us."
Lane stands up, unceremoniously dumping Andrew onto the floor. She
lifted her skirt and showed us the wet spot on her own panties.
All of us were virgins, of course, so none of us seemed to know exactly
what to do about this "itch." Having intercourse never crossed my mind,
probably true of my friends as well. I mean it's not like we didn't know
what it was, but the only penis in sight was Andrew's. Laughable to even
consider.
On the floor, Andrew had assumed a sitting position, chin on his knees,
arms wrapped around his legs. We saw enough of his "package" under him to
know he was still very stiff. The speedos were gone. While wondering how
he could sit on his obviously sore butt on the rug, I also wondered what
happened to his shorts. Unbidden, an image of being spanked by Ms. Lauren
for losing Andrew's shorts flashed through my head.
"Where the heck did THAT come from?" I thought to myself.
Carol was ready to get on with our torture of Andrew. "Laney, get that
belt from Liz's closet we were talking about yesterday." Oh my, this was
going to get wicked. The belt in question was a legacy from my Grandfather.
It was one of those huge, thick rodeo cowboy belts with some kind of rodeo
prize buckle.
To Andrew, "Well? Is your mom a dyke or what? And stand UP when I talk
to you!"
Andrew got quickly to his feet. His shirt dropped down to cover his
privates. He stood quietly, looking at the floor, arms at his side.
"I d...d...don't know what a d...d...d...dyke is."
Carol took a wide swipe at Andrew's head. Oddly he didn't duck, and
took the full force of the slap across his face. He bent with the force of
it,
then straightened up again.
"A LESBO, you stupid, crippled IDIOT!"
"I...I...I'm s...s...s...sorry."
Lane came back with the belt. Carol turned on her, looking almost as
though she was about to slap her, too, but didn't. She just grabbed the belt
from her and barked at me. "Get his shirt off!"
Carol's mood was contagious. I moved behind Andrew and with a vicious
yank on the collar, buttons popping, I pulled it down his slender arms,
baring his skinny chest.
Again, Andrew's cufflinks prevented his shirt being pulled off
completely. I tug and tug, but only succeeded in pulling him nearly off his
feet backwards. Lane comes over and twists her hand in the shirt remnants
and pulls upward, pulling Andrew's arms up high behind his back, making him
bend forward because of the pressure. Carol went ballistic.
Carol puts her hands on Andrew's shoulders. "I said stand UP! when I
talk to you" and her knee came up into Andrew's privates. Lane and I wince,
Jeez that has to have hurt!
"Is" (another knee to his groin) "your" (and another) "mom" (one more,
Andrew is pale, but holding on) "a DYKE?."
"Yes, I am."
Carol froze at mid upward kick. Lane and I gasped, Lane letting loose
of Andrew's shirt, me taking a step back and the three of us slowly
turning to find Ms. Lauren standing in the doorway, a bemused look on her
face.
"I let myself in, I hope you don't mind. Liz, can we talk?"
"Uh, yes,ma'am, of course."
I was suddenly aware of my partial nudity. It's one thing to be in my
bra and panties in front of "the girls" (funny how I was thinking of Andrew
as one of the girls) but a whole 'nother thing to be so exposed in front
of an all-but stranger. "There's a bedroom this way?" she asked pointing
and turning toward my bedroom.
"Yes ma'am," very meekly, I followed her.
"First, Liz" she starts as we enter my bedroom, "please call me 'Miss
Grace'." She closes the door behind us. "Secondly, Liz, dear, could you
please tell me why you are undressed?"
That look of hers, the one I can only call "bemused" hasn't left her
face, or her demeanor. Like a glamour model she stood there, one hand on
her hip, those incredible breasts jutting out, and the half smile at my obvious
embarrassment.
"Um, ma'am..." the look becomes mildly reproachful, "um, Miss Grace, I
mean...it got pretty hot in there."
Her laugh was as startling as it was beautiful. That, and her casual
but deliberate glancing at my undies suddenly makes my nipples grow hard.
"I just bet it did. So I take it Andrew was a naughty boy?"
"Uh, yes...Miss Grace, but not really. We were sort of playing a game
with him."
She took a cigarette out of her purse and lit it. "Well, I'm curious,
Liz, what exactly was the game you were playing?"
I wanted to say "my mom will kill you if she catches you smoking" but
realized the silliness of that. What me and my friends were doing to
Andrew could get us in a whole lot more trouble than my mom smelling cigarette
smoke in my room. "Carol calls it 'Nazi Prisoner'," I improvise. "We were,
uh, interrogating him."
She inhaled smoke, blew it into my face..."About whether I am lesbian."
A statement, not a question. She is standing directly in front of me, her
hands reach out, a forefinger of each hand slides under my bra straps. The
excitement is real, like the fear that her cigarette, still between her fingers,
might burn me. "I am, how did your friend phrase it...a 'dyke'."
Liz, I say to myself, this is like nothing you ever felt before.
Grace's fingers slid up and down under the straps, I couldn't take my eyes
from hers. If she knows what to do, I continued to myself, she can have her
way with me. (huh? Way with me? What the heck do I mean?) The cigarette end
is closer, closer, I felt the heat of it on my shoulder.
"And was Liz a naughty girl?"
A million things flashed through my mind...her touch, my wet panties,
Andrew's welts, Carol's flashing eyes, Carol in her singlet and
panties, my nipples so hard they ache, Grace's breasts, the casual 'I am'
from her, "Yes, Ma'am."
I think I know what to expect.
She pushes my bra straps off my shoulders, I feel them fall to my
elbows. Lit cigarette still between her fingers, a slight tug over each of
my tiny breasts and my nipples are exposed. Still looking into directly
into my eyes, my left nipple explodes in burning pain.
"And maybe Liz needs a spanking?"
The hand with the cigarette goes to the crotch of my panties...
"Yes, yes, yes ma'am"
"I thought so." Grace walks over to my desk and takes the chair,
placing it in the middle of my room. Feeling "unrestrained" by her stare,
my hands go to cover my breasts. I want to try to rub some of the pain from
my left nipple. I look at it, expecting to see some horrible disfiguration,
but there was just a small red spot where it was touched with the cigarette
end.
Grace took a seat and patted her knee. "Over here, pretty Liz. Quickly,
now."
I wanted to be a "good girl" for this woman. I wanted so badly to make
her proud of me. Yes, I was naughty, I was bad. I was "horrible." I would
take my punishment and show her how brave I am. I crossed the room to her,
not replacing my bra, and stood in front of her between her knees. I knew
what she wanted. I hooked my thumbs in my panties and pushed them down below
my bottom. I needed a bare bottom spanking, I needed it from this woman.
I needed it more than anything just then.
A gentle tug on my wrist and I was across her left knee. A soft push on
my panties and they were at my ankles. A gentle nudge, and I was spreading
my legs wide, wider. One last small adjustment, and Grace's knee was pressed
against my pussy, spread, opened, I could feel cool breeze on my most
never touched places.
"And what happens to naughty girls, pretty Liz?" cooing almost, her
fingers tracing the crack of my butt, and lower, and lower, and...oh, god,
lower still.
"They...get...spanked?" I was breathless with anticipation. As much as
I feared the pain, I was no stranger to spankings after all, I wanted
Grace to love me, to punish and then forgive me.
"Yes, pretty Liz." And with that came the first spank. Whatever my
preconceptions were, this was NOT what I expected. Her hand landed
inside my thigh, way high up, the tips of her fingers catching my pussy lips.
I
was so wet at that point that my juices splashed all over her leg. I was
ashamed, and in pain, and mostly wondered what I had gotten myself into.
The
second, without warning, landing in the same spot. Then another, and another.
With each spank I just naturally pressed my pussy down onto her knee. By
the
tenth I found myself lifting my bottom up to meet her hand, so as to
have more pressure as I humped her leg, By fifteen I was groaning not in
pain, though there was lots of that, but in pleasure as I felt myself grow
close to something I had only heard rumors about. Grace began to spank
higher, still the same left bottom cheek, but her fingers now hitting my
other
most never touched place. Finally she stopped, her hand still on my bottom,
the tips of her fingers well inside the crease of my bottom.
"That's better, now, isn't it pretty Liz?"
I couldn't get enough of those fingers. I squirmed and pushed against
them as they stroked, probed, caressed. I'd have taken a hundred more of
those awful spanks to get those fingers where I thought they needed to be.
"Yes...ma'am...please..."
"Please, what, pretty Liz?"
"Please...more..."
"More spanking? I would have thought you'd had enough. Fine, then"
And down came her hand, again and again, no pretense now of it being a
bare bottom spanking. Now it was my most never touched places. My pussy,
then my bottom hole, then my pussy...the pain was unbearable, the pleasure
was
intense. Again she stopped, again the fingers caressed, probed...Again
I wanted those fingers, I would DIE to get those fingers.
"You'll behave yourself now, pretty Liz?"
Through my tears, through my agony I nearly screamed..."YES, YES, YES."
And expertly, her thumb in my bottom hole, her 2 fingers inside, oh so
deep inside my pussy, she stroked, she pushed, she massaged, until the most
incredible thing happened.
I saw stars, I thought I was dying, I didn't want it ever to stop.
Finally it ended. Grace helped me off her lap. I got up and she rose
and gave me a brief soft kiss on my forehead and each cheek, holding my
face in her hands. "Dry your eyes, pretty Liz, and let's go check on the
kids."
**********
"Miss" Grace stopped at my closet. She rummaged around and found a
leather mini-skirt I bought at the mall last year on a whim, but never had
the
nerve to wear. Tossing it onto my bed, and giving me another bemused look,
she went back to the closet and pulled out one of my "Sunday best" white
blouses.
"You can leave your panties here, pretty Liz, and I don't think I want
you wearing a bra."
This was to become my "uniform" for many future visits to Grace's
apartment, though of course I didn't know that then, and for the moment,
I was
putty in her hands. As I bent over to pull the skirt up my legs I paused
as I
caught the reflection of my bottom in the mirror. My left cheek was a mass
of
purple blotches and handprints. My right cheek didn't have a single
blemish, but in between, all the way down to where my pussy was poking out
was
one solid purple bruise. There was still a not unpleasant throbbing there,
and as the skirt came up, the slight friction "down there" was delicious.
I shucked off the bra and put on the blouse. Another glance in the
mirror and I saw me; the tiny leather skirt making me look so...adult. The
blouse making me look like the little girl that I felt like just then, being
supervised to dress as a child would be. Still, I felt forgiven, I felt
"pretty" and most of all, I felt like I would do absolutely ANYTHING
for more of what I had so recently experienced at "Miss Grace's" hands.
"Perfect," she purred. Again she held my face in her hands and kissed
me, but this time full on my lips. "Come with me."
The tableau that we found amused Miss Grace. Apparently Lane, Carol and
Andrew were too petrified to move even an inch. It occurred to me that
they had listened during my spanking. Carol stood unmoving, the huge rodeo
belt dangling from her hand, Lane stood stock still, part of Andrew's pulled
down shirt still wrapped in her fist. Neither had Andrew moved. Our side
view of him as we entered the living room showed clearly that not even his
penis had moved, it was still pointing straight out and up.
"My friend pretty Liz told me why SHE was undressed," addressing Carol,
"perhaps you can tell me YOUR excuse?" I felt a flush of pride at being
referred to as "friend". I lifted my head somewhat and tried to assume
the same imperious manner that my "friend" Miss Grace had.
"Um, Ms. Lauren...we were...um..."
"No lies, please, little girl." Again a small thrill of pride as Miss
Grace made the clear distinction between her "friend", me, and Carol, the
"little girl".
"Well," began Carol, "Andrew is naked, and I felt sort
of...overdressed?"
"But YOU are NOT naked, are you?"
"No, Ms. Lauren" quietly, resigned, I think she felt trapped in her
lie.
"Liz?" Miss Grace turned to me.
"Yes, Miss Grace?" And again a small thrill, knowing I was the only one
in the room allowed to call her by her first name, such as I could.
"I wonder if you might correct your little friend's dilemma."
"Yes, of course, Miss Grace."
I went over to Carol who dropped the belt at her side, and standing
directly in front of her, whispered "lift your arms, Carol" which she did.
Taking hold of the bottom of her singlet, I lifted it up, and off, and tossed
it aside. Then kneeling on one knee in front of her, I reached for the
waistband of her panties, and slowly, teasingly, like I knew Miss Grace
would like, tugged them down, the gusset getting "caught" I whispered
"spread your legs, Carol" and she did. The panties came free and
lowering them slowly to her ankles, Carol instinctively lifted first one
leg,
giving me a clear view of her pussy, and the unmistakable now aroma of sexual
arousal, then the other. I took the panties and handed them to Miss
Grace.
"Thank you, pretty Liz."
Lane, meanwhile had stood transfixed. Miss Grace turned on her. Lane,
of course, was still fully dressed in sweater and skirt. "And your name?"
"Um, Lane, ma'am, but some people call me Laney."
"Have you also taken part in abusing my son?"
"We were just playing, Ms. Lauren. We thought it was ok."
"And it is. ANDREW!"
Andrew jerks his head up, his look almost pitiful, but his still stiff
penis reassured me that this wasn't exactly what any of us would call
"abuse". Well, maybe "sexual" abuse.
Miss Grace strode over to the couch, and took a seat in the center.
"You" pointing at Carol, who had been attempting, without much success to
cover her nudity with her hands, "Come sit here" patting the place on the
couch next to her. "Laney, sit here on the coffee table, and Liz, you sit
here," patting the other seat on the couch to her left.
We comply, obediently.
"ANDREW!"
Zombie-like, Andrew goes to his mother and stands between her knees.
Miss Grace grabs hold of his penis and squeezes. "This" she says, watching
the look on her son's face" "is a penis, which I see you have become
familiar with." "This," her hand moves lower, grabbing with fingernails clearly
embedding themselves "is where his testicles would be, if I allowed
them to descend. Two things to remember, girls..." We were watching,
fascinated. Yes, we had been pretty mean, but so far nothing like the way
his own
mom was treating him.
"First, his testicles are NOT to descend, EVER. Second, Andrew has a
problem which needs constant correction and discipline, namely," her hand
squeezed his empty sac even more tightly, "this ugly erection. You may do
whatever you think is needed to eliminate that problem, and as for his
testicles..." squeezing even tighter, I imagine her fingernails are bringing
blood,
now, "Andrew needs several good, hard kicks a day. I can't always be
expected to deliver them, so I'm going to be counting on you girls to help
out."
From Lane..."Um, Ms. Lauren, the other day he, um...spurted some stuff
out of his, um, penis and it wasn't pee, was it?"
"That's right, Laney," she smiled and I felt a wee twinge of jealousy.
As quickly as it came though, it was gone.
"And Laney, did you notice that very soon afterwards he no longer had
the ugly erection?"
"Yes, Ma'am, I did."
"Ok, girls, there are 3 ways that Andrew will lose his erection. Two I
approve of, one I definitely do not. Andrew, across my knee."
Andrew, his tiny empty sac at last released, crawls up over his mom's
lap, face up, without being told, we note.
"First, is to masturbate him" Andrew's penis is prominent, even more so
as Miss Grace places her left arm around his neck, and draws his face into
her armpit. With 2 fingers she begins an up and down motion on his penis.
"This, I definitely do NOT allow." Continuing her stroking, Andrew begins
to
moan, his penis begins to twitch.
"Second, is to beat him severely. You can whip him, spank him, slap his
penis, but lately that doesn't seem to work."
Miss Grace slaps Andrew's penis hard, then again. Andrew moans into is
mom's armpit, but he remains stiff. "You," pointing to Carol, "Bring me that
belt."
Carol jumps up and gets the belt from the floor and hands it to Miss
Grace, then retakes her seat. Apparently her complete nudity is forgotten
for
the moment and I was treated to the sight of her bare, nearly hairless
pussy and small budding breasts, and what I would soon judge to be a very
spankable bottom.
"Even this belt," with a grunt, she brings it down forcefully onto
Andrew's erect penis, "won't do it." One more hard, hard stroke and we watched,
waiting for what should have been the result, but still Andrew is
stiff.
"So, girls," Miss Grace releases Andrew and he stands, in front of
Lane, who like us has been watching, mouths agape, "there is only one sure
way.
It involves pain, the most intense pain boys can experience, but for
Andrew, also pleasure, in a way, as you will see."
"Laney, dear, please hold Andrew's arms." Laney does so, easily as they
are still somewhat entrapped in his shirt. "You" pointing to Carol, "push
his legs apart." Carol jumps up then kneels down to do so.
"Pretty Liz, please do the honors."
I have recently experienced what the others have not. I have been
brought to a place of indescribable ecstasy by having my most private of
privates
spanked, and HARD. I know what my Miss Grace expects of me, I see it
confirmed when our eyes meet, and I am at once an equal to her.
For a second I wonder if my friends will see my pussy when my leg comes
up. For another second I feel a surge of lust seeing Carol's naked back,
and the curve of her cute bottom as she kneels to hold Andrew's legs wide
apart. One last thought as I judge the distance to Andrew's crotch with my
foot,
lifting it up, testing, will Miss Grace love me more if I do this
right?
My mind goes to a "different" place, and nearly unthinking my foot
comes up in a mild kick to Andrew's empty sac. I feel, more than see Miss
Grace's smile of encouragement. Feeling like a ballerina, my foot connects
again, this time staying there, wriggling my toes, thinking how fun it might
be one day to get some toes into Andrew's bottom hole. The thought intrigues
me, and my next kick is much harder. Then another, and one more. An odd,
sweet-feeling mental connection with Miss Grace...a nod of
encouragement... and lust... for me.
I kick, again, and again, and again...then, coming out of my trance, I
feel Lane restraining me. Opening my eyes, I see Andrew has indeed lost his
erection. There is a small pool of clear white fluid on his tummy. His
face is scrunched up in pain. I look to Miss Grace and she is smiling. She
stands and her hands once again enfold my face.
I lose myself...in her kiss.
For Carol, Lane and I things went along, but there came to be a new
"routine."
A little after we'd get to my mom's and my apartment after school,
there would be a timid knock on the door, and there would be Andrew. He was
always dressed the same way...A white shirt way to big for his slight frame,
and elastic Speedo shorts. The only thing that changed was his cufflinks.
He had quite a collection, and all of them were in some way either religious
or BDSM themed. A lot of crosses, but nearly as many miniature handcuffs
or nooses, or whips.
We'd look him over to see how long it had been since his last beating.
Carol would turn him this way and that and make remarks about the color of
his welts, either front or back, then yank those speedos down and off and
question him or make some comment about how or why he got switched by
his mom. Andrew would accept all this without comment or objection, but
when he answered her questions, it was always as though he had done "something'
to deserve it. Evidently my "friend" Miss Grace had a very low tolerance
for "talking back." Carol also got to where she would grab hold of Andrew's
penis and question him closely, while squeezing, about the reasons for
his welts, especially the fresh-looking ones. If he wasn't erect when he
came over, he was after an "interrogation" from Carol.
Next, Carol would rearrange the furniture for the next part of the
"routine" which was to tie him spread eagle on the floor. Pieces of rope
kept in
a drawer of the coffee table would be brought out, Carol would tie his
wrists to the couch legs while Lane and I would tie his ankles to the easy
chair.
Andrew, though bright red faced, never uttered any objection. And there
was his ever present erection.
Then, we'd play doll stuff, using Andrew's tummy, thighs and penis as
props for our Barbie's doll's house. Carol would love to use his penis as
Barbie's chair, and especially if the "game" became a lover's quarrel between
Barbie and Ken, Andrew's penis would become a target for Ken's or Barbie's
wrath.
But most often, we'd play cards, with Andrew's tummy as the card table.
Carol made up new rules for 'War" which she called "Combat War." Each
play, and each taken 'trick' was to be delivered with a hard slap to Andrew's
stomach. She also made up new rules for Cribbage. Instead of advancing
pegs on a Cribbage board, we'd place clothespins on Andrew's penis. It
didn't make much sense, in fact it was a pretty stupid way to keep score,
but
whoever couldn't get one more clothespin onto Andrew's penis lost,
rather than won. Our strategy became to try to leave as much room as possible,
leaving room for more clothespins, just in case we won a crib.
Finally, there was strip poker. Of them all, this turned out to be my
favorite. Carol would wear a total of 4 pieces of clothes. Sweater,
singlet, jeans, panties, period. We had all taken to going shoeless. Lane
was
also similarly dressed, but she kept her socks on, so even when I won,
she's still only down to panties and sweater. And win, I did. I took to the
game like a fish to a bicycle. Carol couldn't bluff her way out of a paper
bag, and I knew it. Don't tell Carol, but as far as I was concerned, a flush
beat a full house. Unless it was me with the full house, of course.
There were 2 steps to losing after being naked. First was to give
Andrew his daily "treatment"; several swift, slow, or even a "casual" kicks
to
Andrew's empty ball sac to keep those danged testicles from descending. That
was
the part Carol liked best, and I think sometimes she'd fold on purpose. The
second loss of a hand after being naked was to get spanked by the
winner. That was the part I liked best. Carol had the cutest little bottom.
I'd
have her bend over, put my left arm around her waist, and give her 5 hard
smacks when I won. But I'm getting ahead of myself.
Andrew being secured the way he was, and the 3 of us "playing" over and
on top of him, we couldn't help but notice whether or not he was erect.
Because Miss Grace had given us the gist of how and what to do about Andrew's
"difficulty," it became a problem to play strip poker. When Carol took
her sweater off, no matter the state of Andrew's penis, it either got hard,
or harder. When Carol stood to remove her panties, or when she took her
singlet off ( thinking back, it was Carol who was ALWAYS losing) Andrew's
penis, if stiff, would do that twitch thing...if soft,(rarely) it would become
stiff. Carol seeing this took to loving to tease Andrew with the forbidden
"masturbation" taking his penis with 2 or 3 fingers and stroking it.
Carol was forever making up new "rules" for the card games. On one
memorable afternoon, at the conclusion of a game of "War" followed by a game
of
Cribbage, then a quick game of strip poker, Andrew's fully erect penis
was covered with clothespins. Carol is naked from her usual loss at strip
poker and her bottom is still pink from my spanks. She squatted over Andrew's
face and I thought for a moment that she was going to pee on him. Instead,
she used her finger to flick the clothespins, lowering her pussy down onto
his face with each flick, ending, finally with Andrew's nose and mouth
covered with Carol's crotch. She rocked, back and forward. Andrew's penis
started doing the twitch thing and finally Lane saw the danger in what was
going on. Standing, she moved between his legs and gave Andrew the "treatment"
kicks. It was a close call. On her first kick to Andrew's crotch he spilled
his stuff onto his tummy. The second and third kicks brought more and more
of the white goop, and knocked the remaining clothespins off. On the
fourth kick, Andrew appeared dried up, and "cured" of his erection. Carol
stood, naked, looking very red from her face to her little nipples and very
distracted. The few freckles she had on her chest stood out in contrast
to the flush.
"Um, Carol?" I was a little concerned with that glazed over look. "Are
you ok?"
She turned her face toward me, but it was like she was looking at
something way, way behind me.
In a flash I knew what had happened. Carol had just had one of those
awesome experiences like I had with Miss Grace. I pushed her gently over
to the
couch and got her seated. "Lane, get me my bathrobe, please."
I saw the concern in Lane's eyes as well as she jumped up to run to my
bedroom and said over her shoulder, "Is she ok?"
"Yeah, I think she'll be fine," smiling to myself.
As Lane comes back with my bathrobe, the phone rings. I grab it on the
first ring, then blush a ton myself.
"Is this you, Liz?"
My knees went weak, and I plopped down next to Carol on the sofa. "Who
is it?" asked Lane, helping Carol on with the bathrobe. I was unable to
speak. All the memories from that fateful afternoon 2 weeks ago came flooding
back in a rush.
On the phone, "Hello? Am I speaking with my pretty Liz?"
"Um...yes, ma'am...I mean Miss Grace."
"And are you having fun this afternoon with my son, Liz?"
With each of her words my nipples became hard, almost painful, I
imagined I could hear my heart beating a million times faster and pulsing
in my
brain, and I found the strength to stand for fear of my juices leaking through
my panties and staining my mom's couch.
After a moment I found my voice. In almost a whisper I answered
"um...yes, Miss Grace."
"How nice," I could feel her smile of approval...and...love?
"Liz, dear, do you remember what I had you wear when I felt like you
needed to be punished?"
I crossed my legs, looking, I'm sure, like I needed to pee, but I was
so "full"... like that Fiona Apple sang... "like a tick."
"Yes, Miss Grace?" The last thing I wanted to sound like was I was
asking a question. I cursed myself mentally.
"Well, pretty Liz, I wonder if you could put those on and come up to my
apartment. I think it's time we had another little chat."
"Um, yes, Miss Grace, of course. Is there something wrong?"
"Do as I say, pretty Liz. Quickly, now."
"Yes of course, Miss Grace, I'll be there right away."
Numbly I replaced the phone in its cradle. Had I done something wrong?
Was she angry with me because I could hardly talk after I recognized her
voice? Was it something else? My mind began suddenly to swirl with guilt.
Carol had "recovered" enough to be looking at me questioningly, as was
Lane.
"I have to go, ok? Um...maybe you should untie Andrew now? Um...Miss
Grace, I mean Ms. Lauren wants to see me upstairs." I nearly ran into my
bedroom to change into the leather skirt (not worn since that day) and white
blouse. Since Carol and Lane had lost every hand at strip poker, I was still
fully dressed, including my training bra. At the last minute I remembered
and
pulled it off then replaced and re-buttoned the blouse.
Emerging from the bedroom, I saw that Andrew was indeed untied, but
lying face up on the coffee table. Lane and Carol were kneeling on each side,
Carol doing the forbidden "masturbation" with 2 fingers, and Lane
watching intently. Andrew's penis was only a little stiff, so Carol was having
some trouble. I paused a moment to watch and heard Carol, "Laney, give me
that belt," pointing. It wasn't that huge rodeo belt (that went right back
into my closet 2 weeks ago) but a much thinner, lighter one from the jeans
she was wearing that day. Never taking her fingers from Andrew's penis, she
managed to loop the belt around her fist till there was maybe a foot of
it to use the way she intended. Her left arm went up, and not being left
handed, I can't know if it was a bad miss, or deliberate on Carol's
part, but the belt struck Andrew across his face. I heard Andrew grunt at
the
same time his penis appeared to stiffen. Encouraged, Carol repeated the blow
to his face, her fingers working faster. All at once Andrew's penis
erupted, the goop going as far as his chest, surprising Lane, Carol, and
mostly,
me.
Oh my God, is THAT what it is? I ask myself. Has Carol has been doing
the forbidden masturbation when I wasn't looking and Andrew told his mom?
My heart is suddenly in my throat. I force my feet to move towards the
door. I already feel very, very late.
************
Rather than wait for the elevator which I knew could take hours to get
there, and it was only a 50/50 chance it would be going the right way,
I decided impulsively to use the stairs. After all it was only one floor
up.
Almost running to the end of the hall I grabbed the door, entered the
stairwell, and hearing the door closing behind me grabbed the railing
to get added momentum, started up. The stairwell was well lit, but very dusty.
At just about the time I was realizing what this might mean, I heard a
"click" from the 4th floor door closing behind me.
Upward I rushed. "When Miss Grace says 'jump' I guess I say how high" I
mumble to myself with a smirk of sudden self awareness.
Finally reaching the fifth floor door, I pull up short seeing that the
push bar has been removed, and there isn't a doorknob, only a key lock.
"Shit.shit.SHIT!"
I pounded on the door, and stood breathing hard and fast hoping, no
praying there was someone to hear me.
After a minute or so, and 3 more "shit"s later I headed back down the
stairs. "Guess I take that damn elevator after all."
Back in front of my own floor's door, the rising panicky feeling
notches up a few pegs. It's the same as the one upstairs. I don't even bother
to
knock. I knew the only ones on our floor at that time of day were Lane, Carol
and I and judging from what I saw as I was leaving my apartment, I knew the
2
of them were probably occupied with our "guest". I turn and fly down the
stairs, my panic at being "late" increasing at each landing.
Finally at the bottom landing I push the push bar (relief, then a self
admonition.of COURSE there's one down here) and suddenly find myself
OUTSIDE!
"Shit.shit.SHIT!"
I'm in an alley which I don't recognize. ("Now, Elizabeth," my mom has
said who knows how many hundreds of times, "stay out of the alleys. You
never know what could be lurking down there"). I stop short, wind milling
my
arms to slow my momentum. I turn around to grab the closing door and miss
by
a fraction of an inch. It closes with that now familiar "click". It's a
cool Spring afternoon and unexpectedly, my nipples harden, and there is a
very unfamiliar chill at the gusset of my now soaked panties. Horrified,
I
realized how I was dressed.bare foot, thin white blouse and braless,
but worst of all, wearing a leather micro-mini skirt bought on that silly
whim, and never had the nerve to wear. That is until Miss Grace picked it
out
for me. How can I go out onto the street? And which way do I go anyway?
There are busy streets I see at both ends of the alley. Our building is only
a block off Flatbush, but the panicky trip down the stairwell has me
totally disoriented.
And I am SO late for my "chat" with Miss Grace.
Brooklyn has pretty heavy foot traffic even on the worst of days. On a
Spring day it's like lower Manhattan. There are a million people
walking by at each end of the alley. In my mind I do a quick "eenie, meenie,
minee, moe," and choose left. I tugged my skirt down to cover as much leg
as I
can while not baring too much of my belly, and walked with as much
confidence as I could muster toward the street.
I get to the end of the alley just as a group of Puerto Rican boys are
walking past.
"Yo, bitch," the bigger of the 5 calls out, "how much?"
Oh, God, I look like a "common prostitute" as my mother called them.
Trying to ignore the insult, I know I have to have a landmark. These
guys won't know the store I go to when we run out of cokes, but I do know
my
way from the, uh, big hotel.what's it called. The Hilton maybe, jeez I am
so in trouble, I can't think.
In an instant I knew what to ask.
"Could you guys help me please? I'm just a little lost. Can you tell me
where the courthouse is?"
All 5 of them think this is enormously funny. "Why?" the large one
asks, "you got a date with the prosecutor?"
Again a huge laugh at my expense. Lots of high fives, silly looking,
weird handshakes and swearing later, the boys noticed they have drawn a
crowd.
"Yeah, hoe, down that block and left on Flatbush. You can't miss it."
I head back down the alley the way I came, lots of hoots and laughter
behind me. At the other end I know where I am. The front door of my apartment
building is 2 doors down from here. Shit, I don't have my key. "Oh for
God's sake Liz, remember? You buzz the apartment."
It's like remembering your own telephone number. You almost never call
it. I doubt I have rung my apartment buzzer even once in the 6 years we have
lived here. My key was always close at hand.
The hundred yards or so I walked from the alley to my apartment were
the most humiliating of my short life. Head down, hair partially obscuring
my face, even with my arms crossed over by bare belly button I got looks.
Older women looking disparaging and disgusted, men looking either slyly or
openly, staring at my still hard nipples or legs, and one "common prostitute"
reached out as though to tweak my nipple with a look on her face I
can't describe. With a quick shift of my body, I managed to avoid that.
Finally, I'm at my own front door. I find the buzzer for "Morgan" and
press it a dozen times, like an SOS.
A breathless sounding Carol answers, "What?"
"It's me, Carol, buzz me in, quick!"
Thankfully the door buzzer sounds and I quickly push my way into the
small lobby. SHIT! There on my left is a stairwell door. In my haste I must
have missed it.
I cross to the elevator and press the button like 20 times. At last the
door opens and rushing in, I bump into Mrs. Walton, who my friends and I
call, behind her back, of course "Mrs. Walker" or should I say I bumped into
her walker.
"Oh, I'm so sorry Mrs. Walker, I mean Mrs. Walton. Are you OK?" I reach
out to catch her arm gently. She pulls away, never taking her eyes from the
floor of the elevator.
"You damn kids" muttered, but loud enough for me to hear clearly, "no
respect for your elders."
I'm still counting seconds from when the call came from Miss Grace, and
how long it's been.
"Here, let me help you."
Again Mrs. Walton pulls away, and proceeds to take her damn sweet time
moving out of the elevator. I'm reduced to standing just inside the
door to prevent them from closing. Though still aware of my dress, utmost
on my
mind is my hurry to get to Miss Grace's apartment. I had been summoned. I
was letting her down. Finally the old hag is out of the elevator.
Rushing in I press the door close button about a hundred times, and it
finally does. Then I press the button for the fifth floor. The button
lights, but when I release it, it goes out. The elevator remains
frustratingly motionless.
"Shit.shit.SHIT!"
It was then I noticed that at some point a keypad had been installed
next to the fifth floor button. I hadn't noticed it before, and neither Carol,
Lane or even my mom had mentioned it. Nothing else to do, I pressed the
button for the fourth, my floor. It took an agonizingly long time to get
there. Thankfully, none of my neighbors got on the elevator with me to see
the
way I was dressed. I would have died of shame.
After an eternity, the elevator finally reaches my floor. I push past
the oh so slowly opening doors and run down the hall to my apartment. I
push
the apartment door open (why is it unlocked? Oh, yeah, that was me) and
find Lane with a wooden cutting board from the kitchen in her hands in mid
swing, aiming at Andrew's butt. He is completely naked now, standing with
his
fingers interlaced behind his head. Carol has her fist wrapped around
his penis. I watched as Lane completes the stroke with the make shift
paddle, forcing Andrew's torso forward to cause friction with Carol's fist.
His
bottom is purple. It wasn't purple when he came down earlier, so
apparently this has been going on for some time. Before I utter a word, Lane
swings the board again, and to their apparent delight, Andrew spurts more
goop
onto the coffee table.
"Laney, get him on the coffee table." Carol is already swinging her leg
over so her pussy will be directly over his face when he is "in place." Lane
pushes the compliant Andrew onto the coffee table and positions him
face up, with his face where Carol's hairless, naked, and even from my
viewpoint, lips separated spread and engorged pussy will come down.
"Hey, Liz" said Carol, lowering herself in place, she has bent forward
some and placed her hands on either side of Andrew's torso. "So what did
Ms.
Lauren want?" She is positioning herself carefully, her bottom hole on
Andrew's nose, and her pussy on his mouth. As ever I am enthralled with
Carol's perfect round bottom and the cute freckles on her chest.
I'm brought back to myself. "Oh, my God, Lane, where's that number? Ms.
Lauren's? Quick!"
Lane, too, is watching Carol's crotch, and points to a side table.
There's a pad there which I rush over to retrieve.
"Hey Liz, watch this." Carol starts moving her pussy forward and back
on Andrew's face. Her eyes close and her head tilts back. Meanwhile, I've
picked up the phone and start punching in the number.
As I hear the ringing on the other end, Carol begins moving faster, and
starts a low moaning.
"Yes?" It's Miss Grace. My eyes are glued to Carol.
"Um, Miss Grace? I'm."
"You are sorry." she cuts me off.
"Um, yes, but."
"And you are you about to give me an excuse for your tardiness."
Carol has begun moving faster still, and breathing raggedly. Miss
Grace's voice is almost contemptuous. Oh my God what have I done? I'm so
afraid
she won't love me anymore.
"Laney" Carol pants, "Do him now."
"Um, yes Miss Grace it's just that."
"I'm very disappointed in you pretty Liz."
"Yes, Miss Grace, and I really am very sorry, but I don't know how to
get to the fifth floor?"
"I would have thought your game of "Nazi Prisoner" would have gotten
little Andrew screaming the PIN for you."
Lane's arms are out at shoulder height for balance. She puts the heel
of her right foot on Andrew's (stiff, again) penis. Carol is moving faster,
grinding into Andrew's face, and I dimly wonder how he could breath.
"Um, yes Miss Grace, I didn't think of that? I'll be there in a minute?
Ok?"
The phone goes dead in my ear. I replace it on the hook.
Lane's heel comes slowly back, then forward, hard into Andrew's little
sac.
"Laney, again." Carol's voice is deeper, full of lust.
Lane's heel slams into Andrew's sac. Between kicks she rests her foot
on his penis.
"Yes.Laney.one.more."
The third and final kick is a particularly hard one. Andrew's arms lift
a few inches from his side and his penis spurts his goo. Carol screams in
ecstasy.
A few seconds pass while Carol continues her grinding. Andrew's chest
starts to heave. I rush over and placing my arms under Carols arms I pull
her
off. Andrew gasps for air.
"Gosh, Liz, why'd you do that? He always does that. I was enjoying it."
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