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Usually there is first a book and then a film, but Hollywood has been fast then you, windar.
Barb makes a fine musketeer...
Three musketeers
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Spring Break Slaves
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Barb makes a fine musketeer...
Three musketeers
Sharkman
Governor
This might help here. Sharks all around here. Are you a good swimmer and swim trainer, Barb? An animal tamer even?
windar
Teller of Tales
CHAPTER NINE
Tara and Delia waited nervously outside one of the guest bedroom suites. Robert had found them on the beach and brought them to see Kelly in her small office in a wing that branched out from the main house.
“We have a special guest who wants to meet you,” she told them. “He’s finishing lunch and he has a couple of calls to make and then he’s all yours.”
“Is this Sir Frederick Bascome, the Prime Minister?” Tara asked.
Kelly laughed. “I suppose it would have been a bit too much to expect Gina and May to keep quiet. Well, it’s no secret that Sir Freddy likes to personally welcome our recruits to Providencia and today’s your lucky day.”
Delia rolled her eyes. Kelly glared at her. “Can the attitude, you little slut! You knew exactly what you were coming here for. You’re here to please him and whoever his guests are and the Prime Minister is a very important guest. You smile and be nice to him. Any trouble and what Amanda got last night will be nothing compared to what you’ll get. You understand?”
Delia looked chastened and nodded. “You understand?” Kelly asked Tara, who also nodded.
“Now some of our guests don’t give a shit if you have a good time, but Sir Freddy likes to think of himself as a great lover who always pleases the ladies. So smile and fake it till you make it, OK?”
“Yes, Kelly, we’ll be nice to him,” Tara swore.
“OK, go get lunch, but be quick about it and park your little asses on the bench along the wall out there in the hallway and he’ll come and get you when he’s ready.”
So they waited and waited and waited. “Maybe he’ll have to fly back to St. Francis on important business and leave us sitting here all day,” Tara said.
“That’s fine with me. I’m not exactly looking forward to this.”
“Come on, Dee, snap out of it. You heard what May and Gina said. There’s no way off of here in one piece except to give in and do your best to please these guys. You want to be tonight’s entertainment, like Amanda?”
Delia was about to answer when the door across from their bench opened. Though open wasn’t entirely accurate, since the doorway was fully occupied by a corpulent man with skin the color of coffee with just a hint of cream. His wavy hair was longish and slicked back, just touching the rim of his open-necked guayabera shirt, which he wore untucked over a pair of blue khaki pants.
“Ladies!” he boomed, smiling broadly as though he were greeting constituents at election time. “Please come in!” He moved out of the way, just enough that they could squeeze by him allowing plenty of opportunity for him to grope their nearly naked bodies.
He followed them in and shut the door. “Please sit down,” he said, beaming at them. There was a desk in the room, with a laptop, phone and some file folders on it, but he didn’t want them there. He pointed to the king size bed that occupied the far end of the room, under a mirrored section of the ceiling.
Delia and Tara went and sat down. “A bit further apart,” he ordered. “So I can sit between you two lovely ladies,” he said, plonking his large frame down between them. The bed sagged a bit from the weight, but it was a deluxe mattress and quickly rebounded.
He rested one hand on each of their bare thighs. “I suppose they told you who I am?” he said.
“Yes, sir,” Tara replied. “You’re the Prime Minister of Providencia, the Right Honourable Sir Frederick Bascome.’”
“Indeed I am!” he replied, smiling broadly. “Knighted by the Queen herself. A very nice lady, if I may say so.” His soft Island lilt was growing on Tara. “However, the citizens, whom I am proud to serve, call me ‘Big Fred’ and since we’re very friendly here, you can call me that as well.” By this point his hands had strayed up and back, so that they were each grasping one of the girl’s ass cheeks, which the string bikini bottoms did a very poor job of covering.
“Yes, sir,” Delia replied.
He turned to look at her. “You are Delia, aren’t you?”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Fred,” she mumbled, not quite sure how to address him.
He laughed. “Well, that’s a lovely name.” He lowered his gaze from her face. “And those look like quite lovely tits.” He removed his hands from the girls’ behinds and reached behind Delia’s back to untie the string holding her top on. She made no attempt to resist.
Soon, the minimalist fabric was lying on the bed and Big Fred had his face buried in Delia’s bosom. She rolled her eyes at Tara, but as he began suckling her nipples she gave in and made a sigh of pleasure.
Finally, he came up for air. “And are you enjoying your time in my country so far, Delia?” he asked.
“I am, sir. The beaches are beautiful and the weather is perfect.”
“We are known for that and for making tourists feel at home.” He turned towards Tara. “And you must be Tara,” he said. “A beautiful name, as well. The female Buddha. Also, the plantation in Gone with the Wind.”
“Yes, sir,” Tara replied.
“We had many plantations here in Providencia in the old days. They were worked by slaves, of course, just like in that movie, only much, much worse. Slaves were whipped all the time on those plantations, even women, did you know that?”
“Yes, sir, I’m sorry, sir,” Tara replied.
“But enough of that, it was long ago and it wasn’t your fault was it? I would guess your ancestors were back in Ireland, suffering under the British just like my people,” he said, smiling again.
“I suppose so, sir, I mean Big Fred,” she replied.
“You must show me your tits as well, Tara.” She reached behind to untie the string and her top joined Delia’s on the bed. Big Fred reached his hand out to feel them, pinching the soft flesh between his index and middle fingers. Tara squirmed a bit, but managed to keep quiet.
Finally, he let his hand fall back to caress Tara’s ass. “Well, you’re both very nice. Did Kelly recruit you?”
“Yes, sir,” Tara replied.
“Well she always manages to find the good ones. It’s a talent of hers.” He stood. “I must say, it seems very unfair, though. You two look very comfortable and I’m still dressed. Why don’t you help me? You can start with my shoes.”
Tara and Delia stood and then knelt in front of him. Delia lifted his left foot and slipped the size 15 loafer off. “Careful, they’re Italian and damned expensive.” She laid it down gently on the floor. He wasn’t wearing socks.
Tara removed his other shoe and then reached up to unbutton his trousers. She could feel the bulge as she lowered his fly and then pulled the pants down over his hips and let them fall to the floor.
“Keep going, girls,” he ordered. Delia grasped the waistband of his boxers and tugged them down. His erection sprung out, happy to be liberated. “I call him Little Big Fred.”
“I don’t think, he’s little at all,” Delia said. In fact it was quite impressive, a long, rather wide baton of flesh, standing up at attention, waggling from side to side as the girls eyed it.
“Did you have lunch yet?” he asked.
“Yes, sir, we did,” Tara replied.
“Well, consider this dessert,” he prodded. Tara thought it would be wise to take the hint, so she opened her mouth and took in as much of his erection as she could, licking around the head and pursing her lips to stimulate the shaft as she bobbed her head up and down on the tumescent organ.
Tara had certainly given blowjobs to past boyfriends, but this was her first as a professional and her client was an important man, older, with plenty of experience, having sampled most of the girls who came through Pirate Cay, so she concentrated hard on her task. From his contented sighs, it seemed she was meeting his expectations.
After a while, he lifted her head so that she was looking at him. “That’s very good, Tara. Now let’s give Delia a turn.” Tara lifted her head off his cock and leaned back so that her friend could take over. As Delia went to work, he closed his eyes and stroked her kinky hair. “That’s it, oh, that feels good,” the Right Honourable gentleman purred.
He let Delia work her magic for a few minutes more. Tara was mesmerized watching the head of his cock disappearing into her mouth, then reappearing as she came up for air. After a while, though, Big Fred was ready for a change of pace.
“Either of you ladies ride horses?” he asked. They both shook their heads. “That’s OK, I had another kind of riding in mind,” told them smiling at his own joke. He started unbuttoning his shirt. Delia took the hint and helped him out of the now superfluous garment.
Big Fred laid down on the bed, his erection pointing straight up. “Who wants to go first?” he asked. Delia untied her bikini bottom, crouched over the prone Prime Minister and slowly lowered herself into Little Big Fred.
She stayed still for a moment, then began moving slowly up and down. “That’s very good,” he crooned. “You likin’ that?”
“Uh-huh,” Delia grunted as she rode up and down. “It’s big.”
“That’s what they tell me. You enjoy yourself,” Big Fred said. “Here in Providencia we like our visitors to have a good time.” Tara watched as Delia rode the big cock buried inside of her. She turned towards Tara, who couldn’t resist pulling her friend’s face towards her and giving her a long deep kiss.
“You two are very close, I see, almost like sisters,” Big Fred said.
Delia broke off the kiss to reply. “Yes, sir, we made love yesterday.”
While not strictly true, Tara supposed that would please the PM and it seemed to. “You modern American girls are all a bit that way, aren’t you?” he chuckled.
It certainly seemed to excite Delia, as she began moving faster now, moaning loudly, finally slowing, her torso slumping down onto Big Fred’s chest. The Prime Minister was beaming. “The ladies can’t help themselves around me,” he announced.
Tara thought the PM might appreciate some initiative on her part. “My turn, now,” she insisted. Delia climbed off and she got on top. She grasped his erection in one hand and placed it at her vaginal opening. Gravity did the rest, as she sunk down onto the swollen rod.
It was large, really quite large, and she felt it stretching her. “You’re very hard,” she told him.
“That doctor that works for your employer is good. She gives me these pills and I can stay hard for hours. She said to take only one, but I’m a big guy so I take two or three.”
“Well, I feel it all through me,” Tara said, as she began moving up and down. And, to be truthful, this was her favorite position. She liked being able to control the motion, to get the timing just right. She glanced up to the mirrored ceiling, something she had never experienced before. It was kind of cool to watch herself moving up and down.
She knew that this was just a job, that she was doing this for money and to avoid the punishment that would come with failing to satisfy, not out of choice. Nevertheless, the nerve endings didn’t know that. All they could feel was the big cock filling her womb, causing her labia to rub against her clitoris. It was feeling good, very good, in fact, as she bounced on Little Big Fred, moving faster and faster. Big Fred was grinning from ear to ear watching her.
And then suddenly it happened. The tingling turned into a rush and she was gasping, “Oh, fuck! Yes!” as a powerful orgasm tore through her, leaving her breathless, her head spinning. She sat still, feeling small aftershocks go through her, then slowly climbed off.
“I think you enjoyed that,” the PM said.
“Oh, my, yes,” Tara replied. “It was great.”
“That’s wonderful,” he said. “But now it’s time for Big Fred to have his fun.” He turned to Delia. Lie down on your back,” he ordered. He straddled her, his crotch just below her breasts. “Little Big Fred wants him some titty.”
He placed his cock between Delia breasts, his hands squeezing the two mounds together to make a tunnel. His penis was wet enough from Tara’s secretions that it slid in and out relatively easily. “Oh, hell, that’s good,” he said as he sped up.
“I’m getting close,” he said. “I’m gonna coat those tits with my cum, oh, yes, I am.” He thrust in and out fucking Delia’s tits, his face turning red from the effort. Then, with a final hard thrust, he groaned loudly and began spurting, big jets of milky white liquid shooting all over Delia’s breasts and shoulders and neck and chin.
“Oh, man, that was a good one,” he said when his breath came back. “You’re covered with it.” He was grinning like a boy who had just found a secret stash of candy.
“It’s OK,” Delia said. “I don’t mind, as long as you enjoyed it.”
He turned to Tara. “You should be a good friend to your lover and clean her up.”
She started to get up to go to the bathroom. “Where are you going?” he asked.
“To get a towel.”
He laughed. “That’s not what I meant,” he said. Tara looked at him a bit puzzled. “Use your tongue,” he ordered. She thought about refusing; it was gross and kind of humiliating and definitely not something she wanted to do, even though she would have been happy to lick Delia. Then, she thought about Amanda. She got back on the bed and knelt beside her friend and carefully began licking the Prime Ministerial cum off her friend’s breasts and neck and face. And as she lapped up the slimy liquid, she made sure to swallow every single drop.
Tara and Delia waited nervously outside one of the guest bedroom suites. Robert had found them on the beach and brought them to see Kelly in her small office in a wing that branched out from the main house.
“We have a special guest who wants to meet you,” she told them. “He’s finishing lunch and he has a couple of calls to make and then he’s all yours.”
“Is this Sir Frederick Bascome, the Prime Minister?” Tara asked.
Kelly laughed. “I suppose it would have been a bit too much to expect Gina and May to keep quiet. Well, it’s no secret that Sir Freddy likes to personally welcome our recruits to Providencia and today’s your lucky day.”
Delia rolled her eyes. Kelly glared at her. “Can the attitude, you little slut! You knew exactly what you were coming here for. You’re here to please him and whoever his guests are and the Prime Minister is a very important guest. You smile and be nice to him. Any trouble and what Amanda got last night will be nothing compared to what you’ll get. You understand?”
Delia looked chastened and nodded. “You understand?” Kelly asked Tara, who also nodded.
“Now some of our guests don’t give a shit if you have a good time, but Sir Freddy likes to think of himself as a great lover who always pleases the ladies. So smile and fake it till you make it, OK?”
“Yes, Kelly, we’ll be nice to him,” Tara swore.
“OK, go get lunch, but be quick about it and park your little asses on the bench along the wall out there in the hallway and he’ll come and get you when he’s ready.”
So they waited and waited and waited. “Maybe he’ll have to fly back to St. Francis on important business and leave us sitting here all day,” Tara said.
“That’s fine with me. I’m not exactly looking forward to this.”
“Come on, Dee, snap out of it. You heard what May and Gina said. There’s no way off of here in one piece except to give in and do your best to please these guys. You want to be tonight’s entertainment, like Amanda?”
Delia was about to answer when the door across from their bench opened. Though open wasn’t entirely accurate, since the doorway was fully occupied by a corpulent man with skin the color of coffee with just a hint of cream. His wavy hair was longish and slicked back, just touching the rim of his open-necked guayabera shirt, which he wore untucked over a pair of blue khaki pants.
“Ladies!” he boomed, smiling broadly as though he were greeting constituents at election time. “Please come in!” He moved out of the way, just enough that they could squeeze by him allowing plenty of opportunity for him to grope their nearly naked bodies.
He followed them in and shut the door. “Please sit down,” he said, beaming at them. There was a desk in the room, with a laptop, phone and some file folders on it, but he didn’t want them there. He pointed to the king size bed that occupied the far end of the room, under a mirrored section of the ceiling.
Delia and Tara went and sat down. “A bit further apart,” he ordered. “So I can sit between you two lovely ladies,” he said, plonking his large frame down between them. The bed sagged a bit from the weight, but it was a deluxe mattress and quickly rebounded.
He rested one hand on each of their bare thighs. “I suppose they told you who I am?” he said.
“Yes, sir,” Tara replied. “You’re the Prime Minister of Providencia, the Right Honourable Sir Frederick Bascome.’”
“Indeed I am!” he replied, smiling broadly. “Knighted by the Queen herself. A very nice lady, if I may say so.” His soft Island lilt was growing on Tara. “However, the citizens, whom I am proud to serve, call me ‘Big Fred’ and since we’re very friendly here, you can call me that as well.” By this point his hands had strayed up and back, so that they were each grasping one of the girl’s ass cheeks, which the string bikini bottoms did a very poor job of covering.
“Yes, sir,” Delia replied.
He turned to look at her. “You are Delia, aren’t you?”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Fred,” she mumbled, not quite sure how to address him.
He laughed. “Well, that’s a lovely name.” He lowered his gaze from her face. “And those look like quite lovely tits.” He removed his hands from the girls’ behinds and reached behind Delia’s back to untie the string holding her top on. She made no attempt to resist.
Soon, the minimalist fabric was lying on the bed and Big Fred had his face buried in Delia’s bosom. She rolled her eyes at Tara, but as he began suckling her nipples she gave in and made a sigh of pleasure.
Finally, he came up for air. “And are you enjoying your time in my country so far, Delia?” he asked.
“I am, sir. The beaches are beautiful and the weather is perfect.”
“We are known for that and for making tourists feel at home.” He turned towards Tara. “And you must be Tara,” he said. “A beautiful name, as well. The female Buddha. Also, the plantation in Gone with the Wind.”
“Yes, sir,” Tara replied.
“We had many plantations here in Providencia in the old days. They were worked by slaves, of course, just like in that movie, only much, much worse. Slaves were whipped all the time on those plantations, even women, did you know that?”
“Yes, sir, I’m sorry, sir,” Tara replied.
“But enough of that, it was long ago and it wasn’t your fault was it? I would guess your ancestors were back in Ireland, suffering under the British just like my people,” he said, smiling again.
“I suppose so, sir, I mean Big Fred,” she replied.
“You must show me your tits as well, Tara.” She reached behind to untie the string and her top joined Delia’s on the bed. Big Fred reached his hand out to feel them, pinching the soft flesh between his index and middle fingers. Tara squirmed a bit, but managed to keep quiet.
Finally, he let his hand fall back to caress Tara’s ass. “Well, you’re both very nice. Did Kelly recruit you?”
“Yes, sir,” Tara replied.
“Well she always manages to find the good ones. It’s a talent of hers.” He stood. “I must say, it seems very unfair, though. You two look very comfortable and I’m still dressed. Why don’t you help me? You can start with my shoes.”
Tara and Delia stood and then knelt in front of him. Delia lifted his left foot and slipped the size 15 loafer off. “Careful, they’re Italian and damned expensive.” She laid it down gently on the floor. He wasn’t wearing socks.
Tara removed his other shoe and then reached up to unbutton his trousers. She could feel the bulge as she lowered his fly and then pulled the pants down over his hips and let them fall to the floor.
“Keep going, girls,” he ordered. Delia grasped the waistband of his boxers and tugged them down. His erection sprung out, happy to be liberated. “I call him Little Big Fred.”
“I don’t think, he’s little at all,” Delia said. In fact it was quite impressive, a long, rather wide baton of flesh, standing up at attention, waggling from side to side as the girls eyed it.
“Did you have lunch yet?” he asked.
“Yes, sir, we did,” Tara replied.
“Well, consider this dessert,” he prodded. Tara thought it would be wise to take the hint, so she opened her mouth and took in as much of his erection as she could, licking around the head and pursing her lips to stimulate the shaft as she bobbed her head up and down on the tumescent organ.
Tara had certainly given blowjobs to past boyfriends, but this was her first as a professional and her client was an important man, older, with plenty of experience, having sampled most of the girls who came through Pirate Cay, so she concentrated hard on her task. From his contented sighs, it seemed she was meeting his expectations.
After a while, he lifted her head so that she was looking at him. “That’s very good, Tara. Now let’s give Delia a turn.” Tara lifted her head off his cock and leaned back so that her friend could take over. As Delia went to work, he closed his eyes and stroked her kinky hair. “That’s it, oh, that feels good,” the Right Honourable gentleman purred.
He let Delia work her magic for a few minutes more. Tara was mesmerized watching the head of his cock disappearing into her mouth, then reappearing as she came up for air. After a while, though, Big Fred was ready for a change of pace.
“Either of you ladies ride horses?” he asked. They both shook their heads. “That’s OK, I had another kind of riding in mind,” told them smiling at his own joke. He started unbuttoning his shirt. Delia took the hint and helped him out of the now superfluous garment.
Big Fred laid down on the bed, his erection pointing straight up. “Who wants to go first?” he asked. Delia untied her bikini bottom, crouched over the prone Prime Minister and slowly lowered herself into Little Big Fred.
She stayed still for a moment, then began moving slowly up and down. “That’s very good,” he crooned. “You likin’ that?”
“Uh-huh,” Delia grunted as she rode up and down. “It’s big.”
“That’s what they tell me. You enjoy yourself,” Big Fred said. “Here in Providencia we like our visitors to have a good time.” Tara watched as Delia rode the big cock buried inside of her. She turned towards Tara, who couldn’t resist pulling her friend’s face towards her and giving her a long deep kiss.
“You two are very close, I see, almost like sisters,” Big Fred said.
Delia broke off the kiss to reply. “Yes, sir, we made love yesterday.”
While not strictly true, Tara supposed that would please the PM and it seemed to. “You modern American girls are all a bit that way, aren’t you?” he chuckled.
It certainly seemed to excite Delia, as she began moving faster now, moaning loudly, finally slowing, her torso slumping down onto Big Fred’s chest. The Prime Minister was beaming. “The ladies can’t help themselves around me,” he announced.
Tara thought the PM might appreciate some initiative on her part. “My turn, now,” she insisted. Delia climbed off and she got on top. She grasped his erection in one hand and placed it at her vaginal opening. Gravity did the rest, as she sunk down onto the swollen rod.
It was large, really quite large, and she felt it stretching her. “You’re very hard,” she told him.
“That doctor that works for your employer is good. She gives me these pills and I can stay hard for hours. She said to take only one, but I’m a big guy so I take two or three.”
“Well, I feel it all through me,” Tara said, as she began moving up and down. And, to be truthful, this was her favorite position. She liked being able to control the motion, to get the timing just right. She glanced up to the mirrored ceiling, something she had never experienced before. It was kind of cool to watch herself moving up and down.
She knew that this was just a job, that she was doing this for money and to avoid the punishment that would come with failing to satisfy, not out of choice. Nevertheless, the nerve endings didn’t know that. All they could feel was the big cock filling her womb, causing her labia to rub against her clitoris. It was feeling good, very good, in fact, as she bounced on Little Big Fred, moving faster and faster. Big Fred was grinning from ear to ear watching her.
And then suddenly it happened. The tingling turned into a rush and she was gasping, “Oh, fuck! Yes!” as a powerful orgasm tore through her, leaving her breathless, her head spinning. She sat still, feeling small aftershocks go through her, then slowly climbed off.
“I think you enjoyed that,” the PM said.
“Oh, my, yes,” Tara replied. “It was great.”
“That’s wonderful,” he said. “But now it’s time for Big Fred to have his fun.” He turned to Delia. Lie down on your back,” he ordered. He straddled her, his crotch just below her breasts. “Little Big Fred wants him some titty.”
He placed his cock between Delia breasts, his hands squeezing the two mounds together to make a tunnel. His penis was wet enough from Tara’s secretions that it slid in and out relatively easily. “Oh, hell, that’s good,” he said as he sped up.
“I’m getting close,” he said. “I’m gonna coat those tits with my cum, oh, yes, I am.” He thrust in and out fucking Delia’s tits, his face turning red from the effort. Then, with a final hard thrust, he groaned loudly and began spurting, big jets of milky white liquid shooting all over Delia’s breasts and shoulders and neck and chin.
“Oh, man, that was a good one,” he said when his breath came back. “You’re covered with it.” He was grinning like a boy who had just found a secret stash of candy.
“It’s OK,” Delia said. “I don’t mind, as long as you enjoyed it.”
He turned to Tara. “You should be a good friend to your lover and clean her up.”
She started to get up to go to the bathroom. “Where are you going?” he asked.
“To get a towel.”
He laughed. “That’s not what I meant,” he said. Tara looked at him a bit puzzled. “Use your tongue,” he ordered. She thought about refusing; it was gross and kind of humiliating and definitely not something she wanted to do, even though she would have been happy to lick Delia. Then, she thought about Amanda. She got back on the bed and knelt beside her friend and carefully began licking the Prime Ministerial cum off her friend’s breasts and neck and face. And as she lapped up the slimy liquid, she made sure to swallow every single drop.
OH SHIT!
Oh no, he’s one of THOSE is he ... God’s gift?
I think they have him pegged alright
Oh no, cutsie nickname and all! This keeps getting worse. What a bozo!
And worse ...
And worse ...
And worse ...
This guy is mentally on about a fifth grade level, but very powerful. Reminds me of someone else ...
twonines
LIMERICUS
You`d better hope he never writes that sequel, you`ll never sit again!OH SHIT!
Oh no, he’s one of THOSE is he ... God’s gift?
I think they have him pegged alright
Oh no, cutsie nickname and all! This keeps getting worse. What a bozo!
And worse ...
And worse ...
And worse ...
This guy is mentally on about a fifth grade level, but very powerful. Reminds me of someone else ...
windar
Teller of Tales
kakistocracy- The government of a society by its least suitable or competent citizens.
windar
Teller of Tales
No, Moore, google it. Could I have found something outside of Barb's vast range of knowledge?
No, Moore, google it. Could I have found something outside of Barb's vast range of knowledge?
Making fun of me?
connoisseurs
Senator
Once again learned something new on CF
But for a German the word has something. Another word for "shit" in German is "Kacke"
twonines
LIMERICUS
One of the side effects of democracy i`m afraid. To paraphrase Churchill, democracy is a flawed system but it is the best one we have.
windar
Teller of Tales
CHAPTER TEN
Dinner that night was fine, as it had been the previous night. The doctor joined them, taking Kelly’s spot at the end of the table opposite him, relegating Kelly to Amanda’s spot along one of the sides. She was not Indian as it turned out, but American, born in New Jersey to Indian parents who were also doctors. Tara wanted very much to ask how Amanda was doing, but thought the better of it.
So, after the dishes had been cleared, Tara was very surprised when he leaned back in his chair and said, loudly, “Delia, Tara, would you please stand up?”
Tara got to her feet, her heart pounding and her legs shaking. She really thought things had gone very well with the Prime Minister. Could something have gone wrong without her realizing it, something that displeased him? Would they be whipped tonight as Amanda had been last night?
He looked them both up and down and took a sip of his drink, Scotch with ice tonight, instead of wine. Was that a good omen or a bad one?
“How did things go with Sir Freddy?” he asked.
Tara looked at Delia. “Fine, sir,” she managed to get out.
He looked at Delia. “He seemed to enjoy himself, sir. We did everything he asked us to,” she replied.
“Tell me about it,” he ordered. “Spare no details.”
“We sat on the bed with him between us and talked a bit. Then he took my top off and sucked my breasts.”
“I see,” he said. “And did you enjoy that?”
“Yes sir, it felt nice,” Delia replied.
“Then I took my top off,” Tara added. “He squeezed my breasts kind of hard, sir”
“And how did that feel?”
“It hurt a bit, sir, but I didn’t mind,” Tara replied. She hoped that was a satisfactory answer. It was hard to tell where he was going.
“And then?”
“He had us undress him below the waist-shoes, pants and boxers.” He nodded. “Then I took him in my mouth. His penis, sir.”
“Did you like that, Tara?”
“Yes, sir, it was very big, but I think I did OK. He seemed happy.”
“Then he asked us to switch,” Delia said. “So I sucked him off. He seemed to like that, too, sir. Then he asked if we rode horses, sir. We said no. He asked if we wanted to ride him, so I helped him take his shirt off and I took my bikini bottom off and got on top. I rode him for a while. Tara kissed me and he really seemed to be turned on by that. Then she said she wanted a turn.”
“Did you, Tara?”
“I did, sir, honestly,” Tara replied, hoping that was the desired answer.
“Go on.”
“So I climbed on top and rode him.”
“Did you enjoy that?”
“Yes, sir, I did, very much. That’s my favorite position, sir, on top.”
“Did you come, Tara?”
Tara considered this for a moment. Was it forbidden for the girls to come? Sir Freddy had wanted them to. He had said so, but she didn’t know for sure what was expected here. Throwing caution to the winds, she decided to go with the truth. “Yes, sir, I did, and it was great,” she replied, blushing at revealing her sexual secrets to the whole group.
“I see,” he said. Tara couldn’t tell if he was pleased or not. “And you, Delia, did you come when you were riding Sir Freddy?”
“Yes, sir, I did,” Delia replied. Delia had told Tara as they were returning to their room that she had faked it to please the PM. He seemed to accept her answer, though.
He leaned back, took another sip of his Scotch and made a tent with his fingers, studying his hands. It looked like he was ready to render a verdict on their performance. Tara’s heart was pounding. This was like signing on to get her SAT results only a hundred times worse.
“I spoke with Sir Freddy before he left,” he said, pausing for effect. Tara thought she might faint. “He was very pleased. You guys did well. You can sit down now.” The two students sank down into their chairs, overcome with relief. It seemed they wouldn’t be whipped, at least not tonight.
“Now let’s adjourn to the sitting area,” he said, standing and leading the way. “Tara, Delia come sit next to me.” He sat in the center of a large brown leather sofa. Tara sat on his right and Delia on his left. The others arranged themselves on the other couches that were set at right angles to his.
Tara saw movement at the far corner of the room. It was the doctor, who had ducked out, returning, accompanied by Amanda. She was barefoot, wearing a sort of wrap skirt, but she was naked above the waist. Whether this was to exhibit the aftereffects of her whipping to the others as a warning or because the doctor didn’t want anything coming into contact with her wounds wasn’t clear.
The doctor accompanied her into the central area where everyone could see her. From closer up, Tara could see that the open wounds and wheals that had been present on her upper back and breasts after her whipping were well on the way to healing. Significant bruising was evident, but, overall, the progress in just twenty four hours was quite amazing. Whatever treatment the doctor applied was unquestionably effective.
Amanda was walking a bit stiffly, but otherwise seemed in reasonably good shape.
He looked Amanda over and took a sip of Scotch. “Amanda, you had something to say to all of us.”
She nodded. “Yes, sir, I do. I am truly, deeply sorry for having failed to serve you and your guest as is my duty. I apologize sincerely and promise I have learned my lesson. I apologize to all of you for taking up the time you had to spend watching my punishment.”
Tara had little doubt that Amanda had been coached to say this, likely under threat of another flogging. She felt awful for her. This humiliation, like something out of a Maoist self-criticism session, was a punishment to be endured just as much as the whipping.
“Amanda is accepting accountability for her errors and failures as all of you must. I am paying you well, welcoming you into my home, and, in exchange, I expect you to perform at the highest level, especially with important guests.”
“I accept that you are sorry, Amanda. However, I need to see that you have truly learned from your punishment and are ready to do better.”
“I am, sir. You must believe me,” Amanda vowed.
“I think you are sincere,” he said, “But I want to see that you are in control and don’t let your natural inhibitions get the better of you. Total submission of mind and body is required.” He stood. “Kneel before me,” he ordered. She knelt.
“Show me that you can pleasure me and swallow every drop as you failed to do with my guest.” Amanda reached up and pulled down his shorts and the briefs that he wore under them. He was fully erect, his cock curving upwards towards the vaulted ceiling.
Amanda didn’t hesitate as even the most seasoned prostitute might before such a display. She knew that he expected her to perform not only well but willingly and that the consequences of failure could be severe. That much was crystal clear.
She took the rampant penis in her mouth as though it were something she ached for, slobbering over it lustily. He looked down at her, watching her efforts. “That’s good,” he admitted. “I’m going to sit down now.”
She tried to keep his cock in her mouth as he sat, but it slipped out momentarily. She hurried to put it back in and began licking vigorously around the head. He sighed contentedly, luxuriating in the delicious sensations.
As he leaned back, his right hand, which had been resting on Tara’s thigh, had migrated under her very short skirt and the fingers were pushing her thong panties out of the way, not a difficult task given the minimal quantity of material. His left hand appeared to be similarly engaged with Delia’s undergarments.
The blatantly erotic nature of the proceedings seemed to have gotten Kelly aroused. She stood and stripped off her thong, staring at the girls who were sitting observing the proceedings. “Which one of you lazy sluts is going to get off her fat ass and come over here and get me off?” she demanded.
The five currently unoccupied girls looked at each other, each hoping someone else would volunteer. Instead, Kelly made the choice. “Stephanie, let’s go, and you’d better do a great job or I’ll have Robert take the skin off those scrawny tits of yours.”
Kelly plunked herself back down on the sofa, her legs spread wide. Stephanie stood and came over, kneeling down between Kelly’s legs and began licking her vulva. “That’s it, bitch, use that tongue for something useful,” Kelly said.
The symmetry of the two Ivy Leaguers giving simultaneous oral pleasure to him and his chief assistant and sycophant wasn’t lost on Tara. Nor was the fact that his fingers had reached her clit and were producing some very good feelings.
Meanwhile, Pam and Tania, the two athletes, veterans of these evenings, were stripping off and wrestling each other onto a large and very expensive Persian rug that lay on the floor. They eventually settled into a sixty nine position with Pam, the muscular field competitor on top and Tania, the lithe runner, underneath. They made a nice couple, Tara thought.
Meanwhile, Gina and May, feeling a bit left out of the developing orgy began making out on the sofa. The room was filled with the soft moans of pleasure and the smell of female secretions.
Tara thought about how he didn’t mind the girls enjoying themselves sometimes, even though he seemed to relish seeing them suffer as well. Perhaps, that gave him a sense of power, control and domination over them. He could give them both pain and pleasure, often delivered unpredictably on his whims, so that the underlings never quite knew which they would be experiencing at any given moment.
Amanda was continuing to work on his cock. His head was back and his eyes were closed. Tara felt his fingers inside her pussy. She squirmed at the sensations, though their movements were slowed as he began to concentrate on his own rising pleasure.
Tara watched Amanda working feverishly to accomplish her task. His body was tense now, as was hers. Somewhere across the room, Kelly was swearing a blue streak as Stephanie brought her to the brink of orgasm and then over the cliff.
His fingers had stopped moving now. She could tell he was on the verge of coming, his ass thrusting off the sofa, his cock deep in Amanda’s mouth, his breath labored. And then, he held still, his eyes closed, his legs trembling.
Although she couldn’t see it, Tara knew that he was shooting into Amanda’s mouth. This was the moment of truth. What would Amanda do-gag and risk punishment that could be even worse than last time for a second offense, or take it all in and swallow it?
Tara watched, her pulse racing with suspense. Finally, he withdrew, his eyes open now, staring at the girl on her knees in front of him. Amanda opened her mouth to show him, then closed it and swallowed. When she opened her mouth, it was gone.
He withdrew his fingers, leaving Tara frustrated, on the verge of coming but not quite there. Whether this was a deliberate act of cruelty or simply a sign of her unimportance to him, she didn’t know. He stood and pulled up his shorts. “Listen up,” he ordered.
The women, who were at various stages of arousal and satisfaction stopped what they were doing, unwilling to risk disobedience even when faced with an overwhelming need for sexual release. “Amanda has shown that she is truly repentant. She is now once again a member in good standing of our happy family. Let’s all welcome her back.”
“Welcome back, Amanda!” they all shouted.
“Now I suggest all of you get a good night’s sleep. We have important guests arriving in the morning and I expect most of you will have a busy day tomorrow.”
Dinner that night was fine, as it had been the previous night. The doctor joined them, taking Kelly’s spot at the end of the table opposite him, relegating Kelly to Amanda’s spot along one of the sides. She was not Indian as it turned out, but American, born in New Jersey to Indian parents who were also doctors. Tara wanted very much to ask how Amanda was doing, but thought the better of it.
So, after the dishes had been cleared, Tara was very surprised when he leaned back in his chair and said, loudly, “Delia, Tara, would you please stand up?”
Tara got to her feet, her heart pounding and her legs shaking. She really thought things had gone very well with the Prime Minister. Could something have gone wrong without her realizing it, something that displeased him? Would they be whipped tonight as Amanda had been last night?
He looked them both up and down and took a sip of his drink, Scotch with ice tonight, instead of wine. Was that a good omen or a bad one?
“How did things go with Sir Freddy?” he asked.
Tara looked at Delia. “Fine, sir,” she managed to get out.
He looked at Delia. “He seemed to enjoy himself, sir. We did everything he asked us to,” she replied.
“Tell me about it,” he ordered. “Spare no details.”
“We sat on the bed with him between us and talked a bit. Then he took my top off and sucked my breasts.”
“I see,” he said. “And did you enjoy that?”
“Yes sir, it felt nice,” Delia replied.
“Then I took my top off,” Tara added. “He squeezed my breasts kind of hard, sir”
“And how did that feel?”
“It hurt a bit, sir, but I didn’t mind,” Tara replied. She hoped that was a satisfactory answer. It was hard to tell where he was going.
“And then?”
“He had us undress him below the waist-shoes, pants and boxers.” He nodded. “Then I took him in my mouth. His penis, sir.”
“Did you like that, Tara?”
“Yes, sir, it was very big, but I think I did OK. He seemed happy.”
“Then he asked us to switch,” Delia said. “So I sucked him off. He seemed to like that, too, sir. Then he asked if we rode horses, sir. We said no. He asked if we wanted to ride him, so I helped him take his shirt off and I took my bikini bottom off and got on top. I rode him for a while. Tara kissed me and he really seemed to be turned on by that. Then she said she wanted a turn.”
“Did you, Tara?”
“I did, sir, honestly,” Tara replied, hoping that was the desired answer.
“Go on.”
“So I climbed on top and rode him.”
“Did you enjoy that?”
“Yes, sir, I did, very much. That’s my favorite position, sir, on top.”
“Did you come, Tara?”
Tara considered this for a moment. Was it forbidden for the girls to come? Sir Freddy had wanted them to. He had said so, but she didn’t know for sure what was expected here. Throwing caution to the winds, she decided to go with the truth. “Yes, sir, I did, and it was great,” she replied, blushing at revealing her sexual secrets to the whole group.
“I see,” he said. Tara couldn’t tell if he was pleased or not. “And you, Delia, did you come when you were riding Sir Freddy?”
“Yes, sir, I did,” Delia replied. Delia had told Tara as they were returning to their room that she had faked it to please the PM. He seemed to accept her answer, though.
He leaned back, took another sip of his Scotch and made a tent with his fingers, studying his hands. It looked like he was ready to render a verdict on their performance. Tara’s heart was pounding. This was like signing on to get her SAT results only a hundred times worse.
“I spoke with Sir Freddy before he left,” he said, pausing for effect. Tara thought she might faint. “He was very pleased. You guys did well. You can sit down now.” The two students sank down into their chairs, overcome with relief. It seemed they wouldn’t be whipped, at least not tonight.
“Now let’s adjourn to the sitting area,” he said, standing and leading the way. “Tara, Delia come sit next to me.” He sat in the center of a large brown leather sofa. Tara sat on his right and Delia on his left. The others arranged themselves on the other couches that were set at right angles to his.
Tara saw movement at the far corner of the room. It was the doctor, who had ducked out, returning, accompanied by Amanda. She was barefoot, wearing a sort of wrap skirt, but she was naked above the waist. Whether this was to exhibit the aftereffects of her whipping to the others as a warning or because the doctor didn’t want anything coming into contact with her wounds wasn’t clear.
The doctor accompanied her into the central area where everyone could see her. From closer up, Tara could see that the open wounds and wheals that had been present on her upper back and breasts after her whipping were well on the way to healing. Significant bruising was evident, but, overall, the progress in just twenty four hours was quite amazing. Whatever treatment the doctor applied was unquestionably effective.
Amanda was walking a bit stiffly, but otherwise seemed in reasonably good shape.
He looked Amanda over and took a sip of Scotch. “Amanda, you had something to say to all of us.”
She nodded. “Yes, sir, I do. I am truly, deeply sorry for having failed to serve you and your guest as is my duty. I apologize sincerely and promise I have learned my lesson. I apologize to all of you for taking up the time you had to spend watching my punishment.”
Tara had little doubt that Amanda had been coached to say this, likely under threat of another flogging. She felt awful for her. This humiliation, like something out of a Maoist self-criticism session, was a punishment to be endured just as much as the whipping.
“Amanda is accepting accountability for her errors and failures as all of you must. I am paying you well, welcoming you into my home, and, in exchange, I expect you to perform at the highest level, especially with important guests.”
“I accept that you are sorry, Amanda. However, I need to see that you have truly learned from your punishment and are ready to do better.”
“I am, sir. You must believe me,” Amanda vowed.
“I think you are sincere,” he said, “But I want to see that you are in control and don’t let your natural inhibitions get the better of you. Total submission of mind and body is required.” He stood. “Kneel before me,” he ordered. She knelt.
“Show me that you can pleasure me and swallow every drop as you failed to do with my guest.” Amanda reached up and pulled down his shorts and the briefs that he wore under them. He was fully erect, his cock curving upwards towards the vaulted ceiling.
Amanda didn’t hesitate as even the most seasoned prostitute might before such a display. She knew that he expected her to perform not only well but willingly and that the consequences of failure could be severe. That much was crystal clear.
She took the rampant penis in her mouth as though it were something she ached for, slobbering over it lustily. He looked down at her, watching her efforts. “That’s good,” he admitted. “I’m going to sit down now.”
She tried to keep his cock in her mouth as he sat, but it slipped out momentarily. She hurried to put it back in and began licking vigorously around the head. He sighed contentedly, luxuriating in the delicious sensations.
As he leaned back, his right hand, which had been resting on Tara’s thigh, had migrated under her very short skirt and the fingers were pushing her thong panties out of the way, not a difficult task given the minimal quantity of material. His left hand appeared to be similarly engaged with Delia’s undergarments.
The blatantly erotic nature of the proceedings seemed to have gotten Kelly aroused. She stood and stripped off her thong, staring at the girls who were sitting observing the proceedings. “Which one of you lazy sluts is going to get off her fat ass and come over here and get me off?” she demanded.
The five currently unoccupied girls looked at each other, each hoping someone else would volunteer. Instead, Kelly made the choice. “Stephanie, let’s go, and you’d better do a great job or I’ll have Robert take the skin off those scrawny tits of yours.”
Kelly plunked herself back down on the sofa, her legs spread wide. Stephanie stood and came over, kneeling down between Kelly’s legs and began licking her vulva. “That’s it, bitch, use that tongue for something useful,” Kelly said.
The symmetry of the two Ivy Leaguers giving simultaneous oral pleasure to him and his chief assistant and sycophant wasn’t lost on Tara. Nor was the fact that his fingers had reached her clit and were producing some very good feelings.
Meanwhile, Pam and Tania, the two athletes, veterans of these evenings, were stripping off and wrestling each other onto a large and very expensive Persian rug that lay on the floor. They eventually settled into a sixty nine position with Pam, the muscular field competitor on top and Tania, the lithe runner, underneath. They made a nice couple, Tara thought.
Meanwhile, Gina and May, feeling a bit left out of the developing orgy began making out on the sofa. The room was filled with the soft moans of pleasure and the smell of female secretions.
Tara thought about how he didn’t mind the girls enjoying themselves sometimes, even though he seemed to relish seeing them suffer as well. Perhaps, that gave him a sense of power, control and domination over them. He could give them both pain and pleasure, often delivered unpredictably on his whims, so that the underlings never quite knew which they would be experiencing at any given moment.
Amanda was continuing to work on his cock. His head was back and his eyes were closed. Tara felt his fingers inside her pussy. She squirmed at the sensations, though their movements were slowed as he began to concentrate on his own rising pleasure.
Tara watched Amanda working feverishly to accomplish her task. His body was tense now, as was hers. Somewhere across the room, Kelly was swearing a blue streak as Stephanie brought her to the brink of orgasm and then over the cliff.
His fingers had stopped moving now. She could tell he was on the verge of coming, his ass thrusting off the sofa, his cock deep in Amanda’s mouth, his breath labored. And then, he held still, his eyes closed, his legs trembling.
Although she couldn’t see it, Tara knew that he was shooting into Amanda’s mouth. This was the moment of truth. What would Amanda do-gag and risk punishment that could be even worse than last time for a second offense, or take it all in and swallow it?
Tara watched, her pulse racing with suspense. Finally, he withdrew, his eyes open now, staring at the girl on her knees in front of him. Amanda opened her mouth to show him, then closed it and swallowed. When she opened her mouth, it was gone.
He withdrew his fingers, leaving Tara frustrated, on the verge of coming but not quite there. Whether this was a deliberate act of cruelty or simply a sign of her unimportance to him, she didn’t know. He stood and pulled up his shorts. “Listen up,” he ordered.
The women, who were at various stages of arousal and satisfaction stopped what they were doing, unwilling to risk disobedience even when faced with an overwhelming need for sexual release. “Amanda has shown that she is truly repentant. She is now once again a member in good standing of our happy family. Let’s all welcome her back.”
“Welcome back, Amanda!” they all shouted.
“Now I suggest all of you get a good night’s sleep. We have important guests arriving in the morning and I expect most of you will have a busy day tomorrow.”
Sharkman
Governor
Nice dinner, marvelous drinks, lovely society, surrounded by friends, interesting conversation, smoking cigars ... what's else is missing?
Oh, yes, they lose the track of time. It's late now. 
So one interesting question. Do they have CCM-Clocks on Pirate Cay? No! Then they should order! You know time is running.
http://www.cruxforums.com/xf/threads/some-of-my-3d-art-to-introduce-myself.7867/post-499428
Oh, yes, they lose the track of time. It's late now.
So one interesting question. Do they have CCM-Clocks on Pirate Cay? No! Then they should order! You know time is running.http://www.cruxforums.com/xf/threads/some-of-my-3d-art-to-introduce-myself.7867/post-499428
windar
Teller of Tales
CHAPTER ELEVEN
At least the following morning Kelly didn’t barge into Delia and Tara’s room. No, this time, she waited until they had gotten breakfast and had taken it out by the pool before waylaying them. “Good morning, you guys, how did you sleep?” she chirped.
“Okay,” Delia replied.
“I slept great,” Kelly told them. “Nothing like a terrific orgasm from an obedient slave to give one a good night’s sleep, is there?” She winked lasciviously.
“I suppose not,” Tara replied. She mixed strawberry jam into the yogurt she had spooned onto her plate.
“And it’s nice that Amanda is welcomed back, isn’t it? He’s really a very forgiving person, once you’ve made amends.”
Tara wanted to roll her eyes, but thought that might not be a good idea. “Yes,” was all she said. Delia nodded her agreement as well.
“So, as I said last night, he’s invited several guests-friends, business associates, the like. They’ll be looking for some fun of course.”
“Of course,” Delia said. Tara imagined that they had something other than golf in mind.
“That’s where you guys come in. It’s your lucky day and he likes you, so he’s given you probably the easiest assignment. Nothing too, heavy, just some innocent fun from one of the less demanding of the guests.”
“What does innocent fun involve exactly?” Tara asked.
“A little dress-up, some play acting, nothing you can’t handle, I’m sure. Like Halloween for the kinky set.”
“Halloween was a few months ago,” Tara noted.
“Don’t be a wise-ass, Tara. I can easily re-assign you to one of the other guests who will play quite a bit rougher,” Kelly replied.
A flash of raw fear passed over her face. “I’m sorry, Kelly,” she said, “What costumes do we have to wear?”
“Private school girl. A plaid skirt, white blouse with the school’s crest, Mary Janes.”
“I went to public school and we used to rag on the private school kids,” Delia said.
“Well, now you get to be one.”
“I don’t have any clothes like that,” Dee said.
“Don’t worry,” Kelly said. “I have them all ready for you.”
“And so what happens, exactly?” Tara asked.
“He’s the Principal. You’ve been sent to his office for doing something bad. He’ll tell you what you did. You’re the school bad girls, so you’ll deny it at first. Act tough and swear. He’ll punish you.”
“Punish us?” Delia asked nervously. “How, exactly?”
“Oh, don’t worry. Nothing too harsh, he’s not into anything brutal. Nothing like what Amanda got. Unless you disappoint him, then I’ll make sure you get a real punishment this evening. Then, after that, he’ll want a b.j. or maybe some sex. Whatever he wants, you do it-you got that?”
“Sure, Kelly,” they both replied.
“Good, I’m counting on you guys. I think you both have some acting chops, so let’s use them, OK?” The two roommates nodded. “You can hang out here at the pool for a while. They haven’t arrived yet. Robert will come get you when it’s showtime.”
A few hours later, Tara and Delia, dressed in Kelly’s best approximation of a private girl’s school uniform, knocked at the door of one of the guest suites. At Kelly’s urging they were both chewing large wads of gum, something that was presumably forbidden in the school. Someone had taped a piece of printer paper that read “Principal Smith’s Office” on the door.
“Come in!” a masculine voice called. The “Principal” was a balding man, with round metal-rimmed glasses, some years past middle age, who sat behind a desk facing the door.
“You were looking for us?” Delia asked, laying on her thickest Bronx accent.
“Miss Cunningham said that she smelled marijuana coming from the girl’s bathroom and when she went inside, you two were the only ones there.”
“It wasn’t us, honest,” Tara said. “Three other girls were in there and left just before us. It was them.”
“Which three girls?” he asked.
“Um, let’s see, I dunno their names, but they were there. I swear on my mother’s grave.”
“Your mother is alive and well, Tara. You shouldn’t talk that way,” he said. “And what’s that in your mouth, young lady?”
“Nothing,” Tara replied.
“You know that chewing gum is forbidden in this school.”
“Whatever,” Tara said.
“Mind your mouth, girl,” he warned. “Anyway, Miss Cunningham saw you two and no one else.”
“Have you noticed the thick glasses she wears?” Delia said. “That bitch is blind as a bat.”
“I will not have you speak of our faculty that way, you little slut!” he cried getting red in the face. “And spit out that gum!” Delia took the gum out of her mouth and stuck it on the underside of his desk.
“Alright, I’ve had quite enough of this backtalk and attitude from you two guttersnipes. I’m afraid you’ve left me no choice but to paddle you.”
“Paddle?” Tara asked, nervously. This game was turning serious. He opened a large drawer in the desk and pulled out a heavy wooden paddle. One end was a leather wrapped handle, from which the business end broadened out to a nasty looking blade with several holes drilled in it to reduce the resistance as the instrument of punishment moved through the air.
“Yes, young lady, that is what this school uses to discipline little sluts like you and your friend.” He stood. He was of medium height and a bit overweight, but his arms seemed strong enough to do some damage with the paddle.
“You’re not serious, Principal Smith.” Delia said.
“Oh, you bet your ass I am,” he said. “In fact, that’s exactly where you’ll get it, on your asses. Six of the best, as they say and they’ve never been more deserved. Both of you bend over the desk, now!” he shouted. “Any more nonsense out of either of you and you’ll get double. Move it!”
Tara wasn’t sure if this was a game or if he was really going to paddle them, but she figured it was best not to take any chances. She stood with her hips against his desk and bent over. Her hands were just able to grab the far end of the desk. She saw Delia come over and assume the same position beside her, their bodies almost, but not quite, touching.
“Principal Smith” walked around the desk to stand behind them. Tara felt his hand on her ass, the fingers reaching under her waistband and yanking her panties roughly down below her knees. Then, he grasped the hem of her skirt and lifted it over her waist, leaving her buttocks totally exposed. Turning her head, she saw that he had done the same to Delia.
“Prepare yourselves,” he said. Before Tara was able to ponder how best to do that, she heard a “Whoosh!” and a “Crack!” and felt a burning fire spread throughout her ass. She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth as the pain rose to a crescendo, before slowly declining.
“Shit!” she muttered, reaching her hands back to try to soothe the agony in her cheeks.
“Keep your hands on the desk or that one won’t count!” he ordered. Reluctantly, Tara complied.
Tara heard another “Whoosh! Crack!” but felt nothing this time. Obviously, this one was Delia’s. Her friend yelled, “Fuck!” and Tara felt her squirming as the pain hit home.
Knowing the next one was hers, Tara girded herself. Despite that, the pain, building on the previous stroke, took her breath away. She hopped from foot to foot as the agony built. Despite her best efforts not to give him the satisfaction of making her cry, she felt tears welling up in her eyes.
The third one broke her resistance. “Please, sir, that’s enough. I can’t take any more!” she pleaded. And, really, Tara didn’t know if she could take any more.
“Shut up, you little slut!” he shouted. “You’ll take every last one.” Then she heard him whack Delia and heard her friend’s sobs.
But, take them, she did-three more whacks, each of which burned its way into her flesh and into her mind. If you’d asked Tara, she might have been forced to admit that the paddle was far less severe than the whip that had been used on Amanda and she was taking six instead of twenty four. Nevertheless, in the moment, that was small comfort. By the end, she was blubbering and shaking and her ass was a sea of fire.
As she heard the sixth stroke connect with Delia’s buttocks, Tara started to rise. “Stay right where you are!” the “Principal” ordered. “We’re not done here. Whores like you deserve to be fucked and I’m just the man to do it!” She peered behind her to see him unbuttoning his trousers and lowering them, followed by his briefs. He was sporting a rampant erection.
“Spread your legs,” he commanded. Tara moved her feet apart. Her leg was pressing hard against Dee’s leg as Delia spread her legs as well to comply with his order. For, neither of them dared to test what would happen if they didn’t.
With a quick thrust, Tara felt him enter her. He rutted away, his crotch banging against her ass, setting off a new bout of distress in the battered flesh. “Owww! You’re hurting me!” she complained.
“Goddammit, you whore! That’s too, damn bad,” he told her.
Then, he was gone. Tara turned and saw that he was fucking Delia. Her friend had the same pained expression on her face that Tara had exhibited when he was screwing her. He, on the other hand was grinning as he plowed into her.
He alternated back and forth three or four times, his motions becoming more and more vigorous. “Tight little pussies you sluts have,” he grunted. Finally, he pulled out of Tara and began thrusting his cock against her very sore cheeks. He gripped her shoulders for support and yelled out “Fuck, you dirty whore! I’m coming!” She could feel his hot cum splashing onto her ass and lower back as he emptied himself for what seemed to her like forever, though it probably seemed all too brief to him.
He collapsed onto Tara’s back, his weight pressing her boobs into the desktop. She could hear him panting. She hoped he wouldn’t have a heart attack, something that wasn’t out of the question for a man of his age in less than perfect shape.
But, eventually, she felt him easing himself off of her. “Alright, you can get up now,” he said. Tara stood, stiffly, the sudden motion setting off a new round of burning in her poor butt flesh.
“May I use the bathroom?” she asked.
“Sure,” he replied. She cleaned up his mess as best she could and pulled her underpants up. When she came out, he was dressed and back sitting behind the desk. “I hope you girls have learned your lesson and won’t be smoking pot in the school again,” he said.
“No sir, Principal Smith. We won’t do that again, will we Tara?” Delia replied.
“No way. We’re going to be your two star students from now on,” Tara added.
“That’s good,” he told them. “Now run along to your next class.”
At least the following morning Kelly didn’t barge into Delia and Tara’s room. No, this time, she waited until they had gotten breakfast and had taken it out by the pool before waylaying them. “Good morning, you guys, how did you sleep?” she chirped.
“Okay,” Delia replied.
“I slept great,” Kelly told them. “Nothing like a terrific orgasm from an obedient slave to give one a good night’s sleep, is there?” She winked lasciviously.
“I suppose not,” Tara replied. She mixed strawberry jam into the yogurt she had spooned onto her plate.
“And it’s nice that Amanda is welcomed back, isn’t it? He’s really a very forgiving person, once you’ve made amends.”
Tara wanted to roll her eyes, but thought that might not be a good idea. “Yes,” was all she said. Delia nodded her agreement as well.
“So, as I said last night, he’s invited several guests-friends, business associates, the like. They’ll be looking for some fun of course.”
“Of course,” Delia said. Tara imagined that they had something other than golf in mind.
“That’s where you guys come in. It’s your lucky day and he likes you, so he’s given you probably the easiest assignment. Nothing too, heavy, just some innocent fun from one of the less demanding of the guests.”
“What does innocent fun involve exactly?” Tara asked.
“A little dress-up, some play acting, nothing you can’t handle, I’m sure. Like Halloween for the kinky set.”
“Halloween was a few months ago,” Tara noted.
“Don’t be a wise-ass, Tara. I can easily re-assign you to one of the other guests who will play quite a bit rougher,” Kelly replied.
A flash of raw fear passed over her face. “I’m sorry, Kelly,” she said, “What costumes do we have to wear?”
“Private school girl. A plaid skirt, white blouse with the school’s crest, Mary Janes.”
“I went to public school and we used to rag on the private school kids,” Delia said.
“Well, now you get to be one.”
“I don’t have any clothes like that,” Dee said.
“Don’t worry,” Kelly said. “I have them all ready for you.”
“And so what happens, exactly?” Tara asked.
“He’s the Principal. You’ve been sent to his office for doing something bad. He’ll tell you what you did. You’re the school bad girls, so you’ll deny it at first. Act tough and swear. He’ll punish you.”
“Punish us?” Delia asked nervously. “How, exactly?”
“Oh, don’t worry. Nothing too harsh, he’s not into anything brutal. Nothing like what Amanda got. Unless you disappoint him, then I’ll make sure you get a real punishment this evening. Then, after that, he’ll want a b.j. or maybe some sex. Whatever he wants, you do it-you got that?”
“Sure, Kelly,” they both replied.
“Good, I’m counting on you guys. I think you both have some acting chops, so let’s use them, OK?” The two roommates nodded. “You can hang out here at the pool for a while. They haven’t arrived yet. Robert will come get you when it’s showtime.”
***
A few hours later, Tara and Delia, dressed in Kelly’s best approximation of a private girl’s school uniform, knocked at the door of one of the guest suites. At Kelly’s urging they were both chewing large wads of gum, something that was presumably forbidden in the school. Someone had taped a piece of printer paper that read “Principal Smith’s Office” on the door.
“Come in!” a masculine voice called. The “Principal” was a balding man, with round metal-rimmed glasses, some years past middle age, who sat behind a desk facing the door.
“You were looking for us?” Delia asked, laying on her thickest Bronx accent.
“Miss Cunningham said that she smelled marijuana coming from the girl’s bathroom and when she went inside, you two were the only ones there.”
“It wasn’t us, honest,” Tara said. “Three other girls were in there and left just before us. It was them.”
“Which three girls?” he asked.
“Um, let’s see, I dunno their names, but they were there. I swear on my mother’s grave.”
“Your mother is alive and well, Tara. You shouldn’t talk that way,” he said. “And what’s that in your mouth, young lady?”
“Nothing,” Tara replied.
“You know that chewing gum is forbidden in this school.”
“Whatever,” Tara said.
“Mind your mouth, girl,” he warned. “Anyway, Miss Cunningham saw you two and no one else.”
“Have you noticed the thick glasses she wears?” Delia said. “That bitch is blind as a bat.”
“I will not have you speak of our faculty that way, you little slut!” he cried getting red in the face. “And spit out that gum!” Delia took the gum out of her mouth and stuck it on the underside of his desk.
“Alright, I’ve had quite enough of this backtalk and attitude from you two guttersnipes. I’m afraid you’ve left me no choice but to paddle you.”
“Paddle?” Tara asked, nervously. This game was turning serious. He opened a large drawer in the desk and pulled out a heavy wooden paddle. One end was a leather wrapped handle, from which the business end broadened out to a nasty looking blade with several holes drilled in it to reduce the resistance as the instrument of punishment moved through the air.
“Yes, young lady, that is what this school uses to discipline little sluts like you and your friend.” He stood. He was of medium height and a bit overweight, but his arms seemed strong enough to do some damage with the paddle.
“You’re not serious, Principal Smith.” Delia said.
“Oh, you bet your ass I am,” he said. “In fact, that’s exactly where you’ll get it, on your asses. Six of the best, as they say and they’ve never been more deserved. Both of you bend over the desk, now!” he shouted. “Any more nonsense out of either of you and you’ll get double. Move it!”
Tara wasn’t sure if this was a game or if he was really going to paddle them, but she figured it was best not to take any chances. She stood with her hips against his desk and bent over. Her hands were just able to grab the far end of the desk. She saw Delia come over and assume the same position beside her, their bodies almost, but not quite, touching.
“Principal Smith” walked around the desk to stand behind them. Tara felt his hand on her ass, the fingers reaching under her waistband and yanking her panties roughly down below her knees. Then, he grasped the hem of her skirt and lifted it over her waist, leaving her buttocks totally exposed. Turning her head, she saw that he had done the same to Delia.
“Prepare yourselves,” he said. Before Tara was able to ponder how best to do that, she heard a “Whoosh!” and a “Crack!” and felt a burning fire spread throughout her ass. She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth as the pain rose to a crescendo, before slowly declining.
“Shit!” she muttered, reaching her hands back to try to soothe the agony in her cheeks.
“Keep your hands on the desk or that one won’t count!” he ordered. Reluctantly, Tara complied.
Tara heard another “Whoosh! Crack!” but felt nothing this time. Obviously, this one was Delia’s. Her friend yelled, “Fuck!” and Tara felt her squirming as the pain hit home.
Knowing the next one was hers, Tara girded herself. Despite that, the pain, building on the previous stroke, took her breath away. She hopped from foot to foot as the agony built. Despite her best efforts not to give him the satisfaction of making her cry, she felt tears welling up in her eyes.
The third one broke her resistance. “Please, sir, that’s enough. I can’t take any more!” she pleaded. And, really, Tara didn’t know if she could take any more.
“Shut up, you little slut!” he shouted. “You’ll take every last one.” Then she heard him whack Delia and heard her friend’s sobs.
But, take them, she did-three more whacks, each of which burned its way into her flesh and into her mind. If you’d asked Tara, she might have been forced to admit that the paddle was far less severe than the whip that had been used on Amanda and she was taking six instead of twenty four. Nevertheless, in the moment, that was small comfort. By the end, she was blubbering and shaking and her ass was a sea of fire.
As she heard the sixth stroke connect with Delia’s buttocks, Tara started to rise. “Stay right where you are!” the “Principal” ordered. “We’re not done here. Whores like you deserve to be fucked and I’m just the man to do it!” She peered behind her to see him unbuttoning his trousers and lowering them, followed by his briefs. He was sporting a rampant erection.
“Spread your legs,” he commanded. Tara moved her feet apart. Her leg was pressing hard against Dee’s leg as Delia spread her legs as well to comply with his order. For, neither of them dared to test what would happen if they didn’t.
With a quick thrust, Tara felt him enter her. He rutted away, his crotch banging against her ass, setting off a new bout of distress in the battered flesh. “Owww! You’re hurting me!” she complained.
“Goddammit, you whore! That’s too, damn bad,” he told her.
Then, he was gone. Tara turned and saw that he was fucking Delia. Her friend had the same pained expression on her face that Tara had exhibited when he was screwing her. He, on the other hand was grinning as he plowed into her.
He alternated back and forth three or four times, his motions becoming more and more vigorous. “Tight little pussies you sluts have,” he grunted. Finally, he pulled out of Tara and began thrusting his cock against her very sore cheeks. He gripped her shoulders for support and yelled out “Fuck, you dirty whore! I’m coming!” She could feel his hot cum splashing onto her ass and lower back as he emptied himself for what seemed to her like forever, though it probably seemed all too brief to him.
He collapsed onto Tara’s back, his weight pressing her boobs into the desktop. She could hear him panting. She hoped he wouldn’t have a heart attack, something that wasn’t out of the question for a man of his age in less than perfect shape.
But, eventually, she felt him easing himself off of her. “Alright, you can get up now,” he said. Tara stood, stiffly, the sudden motion setting off a new round of burning in her poor butt flesh.
“May I use the bathroom?” she asked.
“Sure,” he replied. She cleaned up his mess as best she could and pulled her underpants up. When she came out, he was dressed and back sitting behind the desk. “I hope you girls have learned your lesson and won’t be smoking pot in the school again,” he said.
“No sir, Principal Smith. We won’t do that again, will we Tara?” Delia replied.
“No way. We’re going to be your two star students from now on,” Tara added.
“That’s good,” he told them. “Now run along to your next class.”
windar
Teller of Tales
I'm in perfect shape for the shape I'm inReminds me of someone else
I'm in perfect shape for the shape I'm in
It wasn’t you I had in mind, Goldman.
But laying off the Bismarcks wouldn’t hurt
twonines
LIMERICUS
Very enigmatic, if you won`t spill the beans, we may have to resort to stronger methods!