Ava Frasch unlocked her car and sat down in the driver’s seat. The whole car had an air of non-use about it. This was hardly surprising since it hadn’t been used for a many a month, roughly a term and a half, in fact. It had been left securely locked up in the garage belonging to an acquaintance of hers, one Dr Fiona Allbright, BA BSc MSc PhD. At the time she left it, she hadn’t mentioned in any especial detail to Dr Allbright where, or why she needed some storage, but nonetheless Fifi had readily agreed to keep the car safely tucked away in her garage until reclaimed. It wasn’t as if there was a problem in that, because Fifi didn’t, herself, drive, and nor did she otherwise own a car. Ava Frasch smiled. The two of them had been vaguely close friends, but nothing more, sharing a number of similar interests, and on that score it was odd, she thought, that things had ended up the way that they had.
Ava Frasch remembered that she herself had got the tip for the job of PT instructor from one of the St Stricktlands School supply teachers, one Jeanette Diamond, also known as The Iced Diamond. However it had been young David Shagton, dear Shagger, of course, who had himself recommended to Fifi that she should try for the job which came up the following term for physics teacher. And so it was to be that she and Fifi had both ended up as teachers and colleagues at that illustrious establishment, that venerable seat of learning that was St Stricktlands School, otherwise known as the caning centre of the known universe.
She smiled to herself as she hit the starter button and wondered whether the engine would fire after all this time. It did. So she stepped on the gas for a couple of minutes to let the spiders sort themselves out, and reflected again on Shagger’s involvement in all this. That boy. He was friends with John Diamond, and The Iced Diamond herself had then volunteered the two of them, without the option, of course, to move all her packing crates down from her apartment the day before she’d vacated her dry cleaners shop here in Letchhampton. She smiled. When she’d arrived at St Stricktlands School for the first day of the Spring term a few days later, she’d immediately been able to collar Shagger and all his little friends from dorm 6w into helping her unload them all into her new study. Such fun that had been, too….well, she corrected herself, fun for her, anyway. It probably hadn’t been at all fun for any of the boys concerned, but, well, the little darlings were all in the lower 6th form, and so they didn’t qualify for fun anyway, so that didn’t matter.
And now she’d just returned back to Letchhampton in order to collect the car which she’d been obliged to leave here all the intervening time. But even that journey had had its entertainments. She’d met up with Shagger’s father George….Georgie Boy, he seemed to be called, and his mother, Helen, who’d both turned out to be, well, extremely entertaining adults in their own right. She discovered very quickly that Georgie Boy fancied her something rotten. Well, OK, she thought, she knew that she was indeed highly fanciable, and it was great fun flirting with married men, especially when the wife didn’t mind. In this case, of course, the wife REALLY didn’t mind, in fact, quite the opposite, nay, encouraged it, because the Shagtons’s enjoyed an open marriage arrangement, and Helen Shagton enjoyed it immensely, it seemed, when her husband played around with strict Ladies. She smiled again. It appeared that one of his favourite strict Ladies was the self-same Dr Fiona Allbright, who had apparently enjoyed a college based ménage a trios with the Shagtons, and who still enjoyed a regular relationship with Georgie boy. She shook her head. Oh, the intrigue of it all. That portion of the convoluted tale, at least, she hadn’t known anything about.
Gingerly, she put the car into first gear and moved it out of the garage. No problem. So she got out, closed the garage door, got back inside, and headed off along Side Street. She glanced back at The Knackers, the house name for number 69. On the outside, nothing. She wondered how Shagger was going to enjoy the next six days of servitude. On the face of it, not at all, of course, since it was six days of what really amounted to domestic slavery for him as a quid pro quo exchange for being let off his well deserved BCNU canings at the end of the summer term, a matter of days ago. She shook her head. She’d certainly been a bit slow there. If only she’d thought of that one herself, and then she could have had Shagger to herself for a week. However, she thought, brightly, she’d enjoyed him last night, or, rather, this morning, and, my golly, didn’t the little terror know how to deal with her submissive self just as it liked it?
She braked suddenly at the junction with Letchhampton High Street, her attention quite definitely not being on the road. That rape scene this morning had been something else again. She knew that she was a Dominant Lady most of the time, maybe 90/10, but for the 10% she knew that her psyche very occasionally craved to be consensually raped. Not by dominant men, though. That, she thought, was, rather too close to the real thing, because dominant men didn’t seem to know where or when to stop. So, for her, at least, switches were a girl’s best friend. Switches knew, of course, exactly what it was like to be on the receiving end of things, and so they could be relied upon to deal with a strict Lady’s deepest and darkest desires with sympathy and understanding, even when they were bonking their brains out under strict bondage.
Damn, she thought, she’d just driven through another red light. Well, only just a little bit red, she considered, and traffic in that direction was light, and no police were around, so what the hell, anyway? And for that matter, what was wrong with going through the occasional red light? After all, she’d stopped at a few green ones in her time, usually about three o’clock in the morning when returning from a particularly good party, and never been given any credit for those, so she reckoned that the traffic cops owed her for a few red ones, simply for the sake of overall fairness.
Shagger really had provided her with her money’s worth, this morning, though, she thought. Some good bondage, a whole lot of face slapping, oral sex, of which he was a master, and then rough sex without the option. And, finally, a good spunking, something she really craved. Oh, the humiliation of being spunked in her hair and on her face. It was, it was, it was…..well, it was pretty damn good, anyway, whatever it was.
Her thoughts turned to number 8, Acacia Avenue. The Shagton household, where she was now heading back to. Yesterday had been fun, too. A transitory lunch first of all at The Strict Maiden pub, where both Shagger and his father had both been soundly beaten….nothing that they didn’t deserve, of course, and then a good groping or two with Georgie boy in the back seat of the car whilst Shagger drove them home. And the fun they’d enjoyed after Shagger had gone to bed, too. After a whole lot of light entertainment downstairs between the three of them, they’d retired upstairs to give George his dues, a whole lot of testicular torture and even more face sitting and oral service. Helen Shagton, too, had been, it seemed, very happy to give her some oral service….well, she’d given Helen some of that back, too, of course. But she’d had the invitation extended to go back this afternoon for some more naughty fun and games. It would have to be this afternoon, though, because Georgie boy was due to make his weekly visit to Dr Fiona Allbright that morning. Her mouth quirked. George was, she knew, at the end of a full month of No Sex For A Month from his wife, and so he was going to be very, VERY frustrated….and, of course, that also made him a prime candidate for all manner of prick teasing together with all allied pursuits. She wasn’t totally sure what Helen had in mind for him in the afternoon, but she knew that it would be a whole load of fun. For the Ladies, at least, she added the mental caveat almost automatically. Orgasmic fun always was for the Ladies, of course. The men….well, that was their problem. Thrashings, canings, floggings, whippings, croppings, ball beatings, prick teasing and testicular torture….that was what they all merited….and if they got any sexual satisfaction at all then they should be jolly grateful for small mercies.
It wasn’t that far back to Acacia Avenue. She parked the car outside the house, and walked up to the front door. She rang the doorbell. Nothing happened. She rang again. A complete stranger answered it, wearing nothing except for a black frilly apron together with a pair of Ladies high heeled shoes. She blinked for a second, wondering whether she’d got the right house. Then she sniggered. It was, she remembered, an identical outfit to the ones that both Shagger and Georgie boy had been wearing that morning, even down to the elasticised hole where his testicles were protruding through. And the figure eight on the door was clear enough. So this must be, she reasoned, another sex slave belonging to Helen Shagton?
She reached forwards and squeezed his bare balls, hard.
“Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh,” he moaned, and bent forward. “Please, Ma’am,” he gasped, “what was that for?”
She grinned at him, and let go of his balls. “That, bad boy,” she said, “was for your failure to answer the door timeously. What was your excuse, anyway?”
Slowly, he straightened himself up. She could see that, underneath his frilly apron, there was an outline of something else straightening up, too. “I’m so sorry, Ma’am,” he replied, “I was a little tied up, you see.” Ava Frasch didn’t doubt it. Probably his Mistress had indeed tied him up.
“Who is it, Dai?” called a voice from inside.
Helen Shagton, she recognized the voice easily enough. And who, she wondered, was this Dai, anyway?
“I’m so sorry, Ma’am,” said the mysterious Dai to her, “but I didn’t quite catch your name?”
She slapped his face, really hard. “That’s because I didn’t tell you,” she snapped, and noted with pleasure how he reeled and gasped at the blow. Oh, how she so always enjoyed slapping submissive men around for no particular good reason. It always got her juices going, somehow. She barged straight past him, elbowing him out of her way, and then pausing only to administer a well aimed knee at his delightfully offered bare balls - a gesture which brought him gasping down to his knees in an instant - and then called out, “Hello, it’s me, Helen….I mean, it’s me, Ava….I was able to rearrange my itinerary today after all.”
Silence for a moment. Then, “We’re both in the kitchen, Ava, come along in.”
She walked along to the kitchen. ‘They,’ were indeed both in the kitchen. George Shagton was on the floor, naked, with his balls bound tightly by a rough rope cord, and they were being pulled hard by Helen Shagton who was almost wearing a miniskirt that was somehow almost up to her waist, and who was quite obviously being provided with oral service, in exchange for strict balls bondage. A fair exchange indeed, Ava Frasch thought to herself, virtuously. She looked again at Helen Shagton. No knickers, either, she duly noted.
“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, my balls,” moaned George Shagton, desperately, as his wife pulled harder on the cord.
“Stop moaning, George,” said Helen Shagton, “and stop thinking about yourself. Concentrate on my needs, instead, and get that tongue deeper inside me. You know exactly how I like it.” With that, she pulled harder still on his testicles.
“Arghhhhhhhhhhhhhhh,” moaned George Shagton again, but his efforts were rewarded this time, because, all at once, he hit the right spot, and his wife orgasmed suddenly.
She went rigid all over, and shook. Her head arched upwards, and she mouthed, “Yessssssss,” to nobody in particular. Then she yanked his balls, hard, again. “How many cums was that, George?” she snapped.
“Please Ma’am,” he mumbled, presumably still with mostly a mouthful of cunt, “I make that seven cums….so far.”
Helen Shagton sighed, and lifted herself off him. “Can’t get the staff,” she said, with a slight grin. “Oh, here, Ava,” she said, offering her the end of the rope, “would you like to pull his balls around a little and have some service, too? It does so….serve to keep men focussed, doesn’t it?”
Ava Frasch agreed with that one. Keep men’s balls well and truly bound, well and truly stretched…..at the same time as keeping the penis well and truly frustrated. That was the way to deal with all men. Wouldn’t the world be a far better place, she thought, if ALL men were dealt with on that basis? No more silly wars, for example.
With a slight grin, she took hold of the rope, and, reaching inside her skirt, slid her knickers down and then off. Then she took up Helen Shagton’s spot on his chest, lifted up her skirt, and pushed his face up towards her own cunt.
“Five cums for me, bad boy,” she said.
“But, Ma’am,” he wailed, “I have to get to Fi’s house.”
She slapped his face, hard. “No buts, boy,” she hissed, “unless you want to talk about what will happen to yours if you argue with me.”
Helen Shagton added, “That’s what I like to hear, Ava,” she said, “another girl after my own heart. He needs this kind of treatment all the time, you know.” She sniffed. “Anyway, we will have plenty of time to deal with him this afternoon now, so you can make good on that suggestion in any event.”
She turned to her husband, “Now, George….if you value your balls, oblige the Lady. And be quick about it!”
A small voice from the floor mumbled, “Yes, Ma’am.”
George Shagton’s tongue made contact with her cunt. She thrilled at its touch. He was, she already knew, very, very good, just as good, if not better from, she assumed, greater experience, than Shagger was, and he was very good, too. Such a pity, she thought, that boys weren’t trained from puberty how to please Ladies like this. She pulled on the rope, “Deeper, George….get in there, damn you,” enjoying his agonized reaction as she did so. Then he found the spot.
Her world flickered. “Uhhhhhhhh,” she moaned, as he expertly took her clitoris between his teeth and began, expertly, to bite it and to tease it.
“Ohhhhhhhhhh,” she gasped, and pulled on the rope cord for all she was worth as she came in ecstatic orgasm. She felt her juices flow. She swallowed.
“Again, bad boy…..you’ve still another four to go.”
It was fifteen minutes later before she pronounced herself satisfied….at least, she thought, for the time being. She let go of the rope cord. Helen was nowhere to be seen, presumably, she thought, she’d gone to deal with the other sex slave by the name of Dai.
So, somewhat shakily, she stood up.
George Shagton lay still, gasping, on the floor. “Was that…all right for you, Ma’am,” he enquired.
She smiled. “That’s was quite OK, my little pet,” she said, rubbing her cunt as she spoke, and watching his penis quiver as she did so. “A little full, are we, honey,” she enquired, sweetly, knowing full well that his balls were full to capacity at this juncture.
“Oh, MA’AM,” he said, and closed his eyes, presumably, she thought, to avoid any further stimulation of his already overworked penis.
“Letching over me again, are we?” she asked, to which there was really no need of any answer, “Well,” she went on, answering her own question, “we strict Ladies know JUST how to deal with nasty little letchers, don’t we?”
George Shagton shuddered. “Yes, Ma’am,” he replied, “please punish me severely this afternoon.”
At that moment Helen Shagton walked back into the room. “George,” she said, “why ever are you lying on the floor like that? Get up this instant. You should have been at Fi’s five minutes ago.”
Her husband hurried to his feet. “Yes, Ma’am,” he said, “sorry, Ma’am….I’ll be….err….right on my way. And Fifi will whip me for lateness, among other things, of course, so you don’t need to worry about my punishment.”
Ava Frasch sniggered, “I might very well whip you later myself, bad boy, just for the general hell of it, of course, and because I can.” She looked into his eyes. She could see a gleam in there which quite clearly said, ‘Yes, please….whip me….whip me….’ She shrugged. Shagger had asked her for a whipping only an hour or so previously. Like father, like son, after all, she thought to herself.
Helen Shagton patted his bottom smartly. “Off you go, George. And you will go dressed as you are. We will see you in a while, after Fifi has done her worst.”
George Shagton didn’t argue, even though it meant that he would now have to get himself naked to Dr Fiona Allbright’s house somehow without being arrested for indecent exposure.
Well, Ava Frasch thought, he could drive, at least. Then all he’d have to do would be to make a quick dive for the front door.
“Yes, Ma’am,” he said, and hurried out of the room.
“Do follow me into the lounge, Ava,” said Helen Shagton, “I’ve ordered Dai to produce us some tea and biscuits in ten minutes, but he’s….err….just got a few things to finish up first.
Ava Frasch didn’t like to ask what those few things might be, and Helen Shagton didn’t elaborate further, so she simply followed her into the lounge.
“Help yourself to a comfy chair, my dear,” said Helen Shagton, and she did likewise.
“I’m glad to see you were able to make it back here after all, Ava,” Helen Shagton said, when they were both comfortable, “I know you said you weren’t quite sure you’d have time. Was David delivered OK, into his….err….period of service?”
Ava Frasch grinned widely, “He was just fine, Helen. And, as I said, I’ve….err….rearranged my itinerary for today. I’ll travel back to St Stricktlands late this afternoon, I think.” She paused, “It seemed such a waste of a good opportunity to pass up.”
Helen Shagton grinned. “You do like George, don’t you, dear? Fancy him I mean?”
Ava Frasch blushed slightly. Helen Shagton was very forward in such matters, and she had no qualms at all, it seemed, in searching out new strict Ladies for her worse half’s enjoyment, or otherwise.
“I do, yes, thank you, Helen, and of course I do very much appreciate the facility, so to speak.”
Helen Shagton smiled. “My pleasure, of course….well, it usually is my pleasure, if you know what I mean….” A quick wink. Ava Frasch did know exactly what she meant, of course, “….however, what’s the situation with David?”
Ava Frasch blushed again. Really, she thought, her of all people, blushing, indeed. This wasn’t like her at all.
“Shagger?” she asked, faintly.
Helen Shagton looked at her, levelly. “Yes, David,” she answered, “and my question is, do you expect to get off with my son on a regular basis at school next term, as well as my husband right now….that is what I’m asking?”
Ava Frasch replied, feeling ever so slightly guilty about Shagger for some reason. She didn’t know why, hell, he was over sixteen, nothing illegal about that, it wasn’t as if he were under age, or that she was cradle snatching, for heavens sakes, “Yes, Helen, I do,” she tried to reply equally levelly. She wasn’t going to be browbeaten by anyone….not, she thought, that Helen Shagton was trying to intimidate her, it was simply that she was succeeding anyhow. “He’s a lovely boy,” she went on, “the type of boy which I really go for….I knew he was right for me the very first time he walked into my old shop, although of course it’s taken quite a while for him to realize that simple fact. But I’m very fond of him….I gave him my best attention during two sessions in The Box Room a few weeks ago.” She smiled in memory. “After that, he finally worked out the simple truth that he really did like me a lot, and we retired to Sammy Terrier’s study in order to….err….consummate that discovery and do….err….deal with the issues.”
Helen Shagton’s mouth quirked. “Deal with?” she asked. “That’s deal with, as in, ‘bonking his brains out,’ then, I assume?”
Once again, Ava Frasch felt slightly guilty. Helen Shagton really was open about sex, somehow. “Err, yes, Helen,” she said, ‘that was exactly it.” Then she went on, brightly, “but we did enjoy a very nice relaxed session only last Sunday….a special Sunday afternoon seduction session, actually, although I didn’t fuck him then because I knew that he had to conserve all his resources for whichever of The Magnificent Seven he was spending the night with….I really can’t remember which girl it was.” She frowned, slightly, but failed to remember which prefect it had been for that night.
Helen Shagton pursed her lips in thought. “Randy Mandy, I think it was,” she replied, “if I had his itinerary right from Missus,” and then added, “he’s going to miss all those girls, isn’t he, Ava?”
Ava Frasch grinned. “Now that you mention it, Amanda Holdall I think it was, indeed. But, to answer your question, yes, and no, Helen. Yes, he’ll miss them, but no it won’t matter that much. Did you know the little fucker has already got a diary open for all his, ‘appointments,’ next term. And there are, apparently, already quite a number of entries.”
Helen Shagton smiled. “I did know that, yes,” she said, “and it doesn’t surprise me.”
Ava Frasch suspected that this was all more intelligence gleaned from Shagger’s girlfriend, Brenda Smith, and otherwise known as Missus. It appeared that there was a good channel of communication open between the two Ladies, she thought.
“Actually,” went on Helen Shagton, “I’m very pleased at the way things are working out for him. I’ve always done my level best over the years to land him into as much trouble as possible, and hence for as much punishment as possible….on the working theory that it would bring him out of himself, and make him so notorious that he’d become a worthwhile prize for the more personable member of the opposite sex.”
Ava Frasch silently considered that. Well, she thought, if that was her working theory, then it had certainly worked. Shagger was indeed highly notorious now at St Stricktlands School and girls were queuing up, it seemed, to be, ‘Shaggered,’ as the saying now apparently had it.
“Yes, Helen,” she responded, at length, “I think you could safely say that your policy has borne fruit.” Then she added, slightly wistfully, “but he does like me a lot, I think, too. Just before I left the good doctor’s house this morning, he asked me if I would be so good as to give him a nice public whipping at The Dell next term. Now, he wouldn’t have done that unless he really liked me, would he?”
Helen Shagton smiled. “Quite so, Ava, quite so.” Then, “Of course, George and I have both suffered our share of public whippings at The Dell in past years – surely you have, as well? - and so that’s where David gets his liking from?”
Silence. Ava Frasch wasn’t sure which question to answer.
Helen Shagton dealt with the problem by answering the one she wanted answered herself, “From BOTH of our genetic inheritances, I mean.”
Ava Frasch nodded, and replied, “I’d forgotten that you were both alumni of the school, of course. Sorry about that. But, no, Helen….I can’t say that I’ve ever been whipped at The Dell….at least, not yet.”
Helen Shagton looked amused. “Unforgettable, being tied up on one or other of the whipping posts down there, I assure you. In fact, I was….err….at The Dell only a few months ago, and some….err…very interesting things happened. I’ll tell you about them later….”
Ava Frasch was thinking that her submissive side had obviously gone into overdrive today. “Do you think that Shagger might be persuaded to whip me, if I asked him nicely?” she whispered.
Helen Shagton grinned. “I’m sure he would, Ava. Simply tell him that the deal is a quid pro quo. You agree to give him a good whipping session only on condition that at some later time, when you’re feeling submissive, that he returns the favour for you. Simple, really.”
Ava Frasch thought about that. The idea had legs, as the saying went. Actually, she was thinking about it quite hard. Her hand slipped up inside her skirt and rubbed on a sensitive spot.
Helen Shagton’s eyes followed the movement and she said, wryly, “I can see that you do rather enjoy the idea, Ava. But then, he did pretty well for you this morning, didn’t he?”
Ava Frasch flushed again at that. Once again, Helen Shagton had hit the spot, so to speak. “Yes, Helen,” she replied, tartly, “he really, really did. I don’t often feel that….err…..submissive, but he really did me very well. Just what I needed.” Her voice hardened, “Of course, I’ll make it up this afternoon on Georgie Boy….I mean George, if that’s OK?”
Helen Shagton laughed out loud. “Of course that’s OK, Ava. George will love you for it. The difference between David and George, of course, is that David switches like me, but George, for all his faults, is simply submissive. Causes me a certain amount of frustration from time to time, but we have got some ideas in hand for that…..”
She would have gone on further, but at that moment, the door opened and the sex slave Dai entered the room, carrying a tray with tea and biscuits on it. He trembled slightly and a biscuit fell off the plate onto the tray. Ava Frasch and Helen Shagton looked at each other.
“Would you care to do the honours for such sloppy service, Ava?” asked Helen Shagton, as slave Dai set the tray down onto the table, and stood to attention.
“Certainly, Helen,” she replied, stood up, and looked around for an instrument of punishment.
Helen Shagton silently passed her a cane.
It must, she thought, have been under her chair. “You are a useless, careless, good for nothing slave,” she snapped at him and then slapped his face, twice. “What are you?” she demanded.
“Please, Ma’am,” he replied, “I’m nothing but a useless, careless, good for nothing slave. Please punish me for my failings.”
Ava Frasch sighed. “Bend over, bad boy,” she said, swishing the cane through the empty air. “Three whacks, I think?” she said, looking at Helen Shagton as she spoke.
“That seems very fair and lenient to me, Ava,” Helen Shagton replied.
Dai bent down. He had, thought Ava Frasch, a very nice, pert bottom. She took the trouble of running her hand all over it, very gently, feeling him tremble slightly at her touch. Then she stood well back, and brought the cane down.
SWISHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHTHACKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK
“One, Ma’am,” he replied, “thank you, Ma’am.”
SWISHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHTHACKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK
“Owwww,” he gasped, slightly, “Two, Ma’am….thank you, Ma’am.”
Ava Frasch smiled at Helen Shagton, who smiled back at her.
SWISHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHTHACKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK
“Ahhhhhhhhhh,” he gasped, louder this time, “Three…..three….thank you so much, Ma’am. I know that I’m careless, and that it needs to be beaten out of me.”
Dai remained solidly in position.
Ava Frasch ran her hands over the three neat red weals which were rising on his bottom. He winced at her touch, this time.
“A perfect punishment caning,” remarked Helen Shagton, “but then, you’ve had plenty of practice on all manner of bad boys, haven’t you?”
Ava Frasch nodded. “No shortage of bad boys at St Stricktlands School, Helen,” she said, and they both laughed.
“All right, Dai,” said Helen Shagton, at length, “you can stand up and get out.” She consulted her watch. “You’ve got another half hour left before you go, Dai, so you can use the time to best advantage by preparing us both some luncheon. Get everything ready and lay it up in the kitchen for us. You can leave when you’re through. I’ll see you next week, same time, if you wish?”
Dai stood up. “Yes, Ma’am,” he said, “I’m grateful for the opportunity to be of service to you. Until next week, then, Ma’am,” he said, and then, turning to Ava Frasch, added, with a small bob of the head, “Ma’am,” he repeated, and retreated from the room with every measure of humility.
Ava Frasch said, “Seems to be a good sex slave to me, Helen. Where did you find him?”
Helen Shagton grinned. “Known him for years, Ava,” she replied, “that is the husband of a colleague of yours, the well known Iced Diamond.”
Ava Frasch started slightly in shock and then took another bite of biscuit to mask her mental confusion. The redoubtable Jeanette Diamond, occasional supply teacher to St Stricktlands School. “Dai Diamond, then?” she enquired.
Helen Shagton giggled. “Exactly so. Known at his school, and even now, of course, as The Double Diamond¹.”
A very old advertising jingle went through Ava Frasch’s mind, unbidden. “So he works wonders, then?” she asked.
Helen Shagton laughed out loud. “I fear that dates you somewhat, as well, Ava….even though I was only tiny at the time. But, yes, that is exactly the case.”
Ava Frasch had another thought. “And, therefore, also the proud father of young Sally Diamond, she of, ‘tight little cunt,’ fame?”
Helen Shagton laughed shortly again. “Yes, absolutely right. She of, ‘tight little cunt,’ fame, indeed, and, apparently, also known increasingly at her school now as, ‘The Tight Diamond,’ a fact which doesn’t please her immensely.” Pause. “However, so far as David is concerned, young Sally is one of my rather more successful ploys.”
Silence. Ava Frasch waited for her to elaborate.
“Getting Jeanette to make sure that she told everyone at St Stricktlands for David’s liking….lusting, I mean, over that tight little cunt, so that he’d be totally and completely humiliated, of course….but at the same time ensuring that none of the sluts at school would have any doubt whatsoever about his liking, and lusting, for cunt in general.” She took another tip of tea. “Worked out rather well, I thought,” she said, mildly.
Ava Frasch asked, “Has he actually got to sample the goods on that one yet?”
Helen Shagton shook her head. “Not yet. Soon, though. Sally’s sixteen in the first week of September. Just a matter of a few days prior to the start of the autumn term.” She grinned again, “It should be quite a day, though.” Then she added, wryly, “I gather from Jeanette that Sally’s been looking forward to it for months.”
Ava Frasch grinned back. “Lucky girl,” she said, “to be deflowered by Shagger, I mean. But presumably not the first girl he’s done the dastardly deed for?”
Helen Shagton shook her head. “No, Ava….it’s not….but yes, that’s quite correct. He deflowered both Mitches And Ritches during the Easter holidays.”
Ava Frasch frowned. “Do I know those names?” she asked.
Helen Shagton shook her head. “Sorry, probably you don’t. Mitchell Mary Murphy and Richella Ruth Rhodes. Both live right here in Letchhampton. Both going to St Stricktlands School next term, in the lower 6th form.” She paused. “Unlucky for them, of course. David deflowered both of them in Jeanette’s Classroom, the….err….special Classroom she maintains at her house, wicked Lady that she is.”
Ava Frasch finished her tea. “He is indeed am extremely bad boy,” she said, slowly, “simply can’t get enough of it, can he?”
Helen Shagton smiled. “Cunt, you mean, Ava?”
She nodded. “Cunt is exactly what I do mean. After all, he fucked his way through the entire Magnificent Seven as fond farewell fucks last week, finishing, as he so quaintly put it, on a double, with both of The Terror Twins. But I want to make sure that he gets a whole lot of quality time inside me next year, too….assuming that I can drag him away into my bed between his regular appointments with sexy Suzy, who seems to have him fairly well sewn up.”
Helen Shagton frowned. “You mean Sue Sweet, presumably?” to which she nodded.
“The same,” she said, “Well, OK, I was a bit slow there, I suppose. I should have seen how things were going. She was grooming him, though, I’ve been told, since last January.”
Helen Shagton nodded. “Quite right, Ava,” she replied, “I found that out when I delivered him back to school for the spring term.
“Oh?” asked Ava Frasch.
Helen Shagton grimaced. “I’d wanted some…err….special attention, you see, the special facility which Terrence is always kind enough to make available for needy parents on the first day of term.”
Have A Thrash nodded. “A good, hard, caning, you mean?” she enquired with heavy irony.
Helen Shagton gazed into the middle distance. “Exactly so. I really, really, did need a good hard caning that day, I do feel the need every now and again, well, we all do, don’t we…?”
Ava Frasch nodded, remembering the morning’s events with Shagger very clearly.
“….and, as you know, George is incapable of servicing my needs in that department….and so Terrence was good enough to help me out of my misery.”
She prompted Helen Shagton gently, “And?” she asked.
Helen Shagton eyes slowly cleared. Clearly, thought Ava Frasch, she’d been remembering that occasion. “The caning was fine, except that what I didn’t realize was that I’d dropped my car keys at the main school entrance hall….David had found them and, being the good boy that he is, had come up to Terrence’s office to give them back to me.”
Ava Frasch swallowed. “And so, err….what happened?”
A quick shake of the head. “Well, David went into, as you say, sexy Susie’s office, and then, it seems, spent the next half hour or so, via Susie’s intercom, listening to various parents being caned….including me, of course.”
Ava Frasch looked at Helen Shagton, “Oooops,” she said.
“Anyway,” Helen Shagton went on, “after I’d had a really good hard caning of, I recall, a dozen whacks, I was just preparing myself to walk out of Terrence’s office trying hard not to look as though I’d just been caned, don’t know who I was kidding there, of course, hell, everyone waiting outside in the corridor was bloody well going to know that I’d just been caned, after all, that was what they were all there for…. to find my dear David standing in sexy Suzy’s office together with the said car keys. Well…what could I say, of course? I knew the little so-and-so must have heard everything, because he gave me such an old fashioned look. I thought I’d die.” She shook her head, and took a final swig of what was now fairly cold tea, and continued, “Well, anyway, it got worse. I’d already told Terrence that I’d decided to drive home nude….well….”
Ava Frasch looked at Helen Shagton, as if to say, ‘so what?’ Ava Frasch shrugged her shoulders. “We all do it, I suppose, on occasion. I know I certainly do….”
Helen Shagton smiled in understanding, “….so that was another thing that David knew I was going to do, rot his socks, and then I decided, on the spur of the moment, to stop at The Dell, you know, to relive some of my….err….well, as I said before, my fondest memories there….”
Ava Frasch interjected, “memories of moments, but also of spurs?” she asked, mildly.
Helen Shagton grinned, widely. “Quite,” she replied, and then, picking up her thread again, “….but I was picked up by the fuzz when I got back to the car….”
Ava Frasch giggled and interjected again, “Picked up by the fuzz? Sounds painful to me, my dear. No lasting damage, I hope?”
Helen Shagton smiled back, gainfully, and resumed her monologue, “….picked up by the local county police constabulary is what I mean. One Thor Thring. He took me to see The Professor at Stern Hall.” Helen Shagton shrugged. “The thing was,” she went on, defensively, “or, rather, I suppose, the Thring was, I didn’t remember dear old Wodin having a son, did I? I mean, Thrasher Thring, of course, as he was in my day at school when he was headmaster at St Stricktlands. However, Wodin gave me an interrogation session I won’t forget in a hurry, followed by a slut session with all the trimmings that I will always cherish. The one which all upper 6th form girls now get, it seems, as a matter of course.” She shrugged again. “I only wish I’d had one of those when I was in a prefect myself.” Helen Shagton looked at her. “I suppose you’ve had one?”
She hadn’t. “I’ve only been at St Stricktlands School for two terms now,” she replied, and somehow I haven’t got around to it.
Helen Shagton giggled and rubbed her cunt. “Oh, but you should, honey,” Helen Shagton said, rubbing her cunt as she spoke, “you really should. And, as a teacher, apparently you qualify for as many repeat sessions as you like, unlike the girls. You really ought to make the most of that perk of the job.”
Ava Frasch digested this. “What exactly does it entail?” she asked, finally.
Helen Shagton got up. She rummaged around in a pile of old videos on a shelf, and finally produced one in a blank cover. “Here,” she said, “let me show you. The Interlude Tape, it’s called.” Helen Shagton placed it into the machine, and then returned to her chair.
Ava Frasch looked at the television screen, with a measure of curiosity. She was slightly shocked. It appeared to be an interrogation session, and with Helen Shagton herself as the victim. It was taking place in what appeared to be a Gothic dungeon. “I assume,” she asked, “that the venue is Stern Hall?”
Helen Shagton giggled. “Quite so, my dear,” she replied, “Stern Hall it is. The Professor’s home, since his retirement.”
The figures moved. Cries of female pain were heard. Every now and again a flogger was applied to Helen Shagton’s tits, and, then later, to her cunt, as the information was painfully extracted, bit by bit.
Ava Frasch found that she was getting damp, ‘down there.’ She slipped a hand up her skirt again.
Helen Shagton noticed the gesture and commented, dryly, “If you’re going to do that to yourself now, then you really will enjoy it when we get to the actual slut session with the Things.”
Ava Frasch covered her mouth with her other hand in sudden embarrassment. She pretended that she was concentrating on the screen, and said nothing.
Soon, the interrogation ended. The screen went blank. When the presentation restarted, Professor Wodin Thring had wheeled various machines around her, and proceeded to outline her torment. The two machines at her sides were simply tit floggers, he explained, simply to ensure that her tits remained nice and sensitive. However The Tormentor had been set to tease. It would not allow her to cum. He would return in an hour to see how she was getting along.
The Tormentor was a patent phallus on a fucking machine. It slid in and out of Helen Shagton’s best asset and there was nothing that she could do to stop it. A cold, continuous, precision, mechanical insertion, with each stroke of the fuck guaranteed to be slightly painful, but also more than slightly erotic.
Ava Frasch knew that she, too, harboured all sorts of fantasies about being fucked by such a machine, and for the life of her she couldn’t work out why she hadn’t previously beaten a path to the Professor’s door, before, of course, it got beaten for her, so to speak.
She watched with fascination as the Thing worked its wicked way in and out of Helen Shagton’s cunt and brought her nicely up to the point of orgasm. Then it stopped. Helen Shagton swore at it. It waited, patiently, and, naturally, totally ignoring all the invective hurled towards it. It appeared that the tape had been edited, and that the time between sex cycles had been cut. The tape started again, and the fucking machine started its grisly work all over again. Each sex cycle brought Helen Shagton to within a whisker of sexual release, but, like the old Greek mythology of Sisyphus², she couldn’t quite make it over the edge. Each cycle brought forth a new round of expletives of increasing variety and volume. All to no avail.
Exactly one hour and an eternity later, Professor Wodin Thring appeared at her side once again. He smiled down at Helen Shagton. She was in a state of extreme mental and physical exhaustion, having been totally on the edge of an incredible orgasm for at least the previous ten minutes, and heaven knows how many cycles before that. She opened her eyes.
He raised his eyebrows. “Well, girl?” he asked, mildly.
Helen Shagton could hardly speak. It took her three attempts to say anything at all. “Please….Sir,” she said, with considerable difficulty, “I’m….a sex slut.”
Then she shrieked at him, wildly, “Fuck me, punish me, but….please Sir….let me CUM!”
Wodin Thring slowly withdrew the Thing from Helen Shagton’s cunt and then equally slowly considered her.
He smiled, and said, mildly, “I suppose you’re going to tell me you’d like a Thing to finish you off, now?”
Helen Shagton couldn’t speak. She nodded her head.
He grinned down at her, teasingly, and said, casually, “Perhaps you’d like to beg for it, then?”
She tried to speak. She failed. She tried a second time, “Please….Sir, I HAVE to CUM. I….BEG you! Please, mercy, Sir….have MERCY on me!” She ended with half a sob.
Professor Thring shrugged. He examined the selection of Things. Finally he decided. “You realise this is but a small selection of the total number of Things available, but I think The Humbler here will do you just fine,” he said. This was an eight inch long silver penis, ridged in all the right places. “By the way,” he added, “It’s electrified. It should help to make your eventual orgasms that much more, well….memorable.”
The process of bringing Helen Shagton to orgasm took less than a minute to complete. The feel of the Thing, plus the stimulation of the accompanying electricity on her cunt was almost too much. Helen Shagton came with an earth moving orgasm. It lasted a whole minute. This time the Thing didn’t stop. It simply continued its work on her. So, seconds later, she experienced a second orgasm. Then a third…..a fourth….a fifth. The tape finally finished as she was fucked senseless, and fainted from pure pleasure.
With a slight smile, Helen Shagton arose, and switched off the recorder. “Fun, eh?” she enquired, mildly.
Ava Frasch was almost on the point of orgasm herself. “Yes, Helen,” she said, weakly, “it does sound, kind of….nice.”
Helen Shagton grinned, as she sat down. “Virtually what Jane Fonda said about the pleasure machine in the old 1960’s retro Sci-Fi movie, Barbarella, of course….but I expect you’re too young to have seen that?”
Ava Frasch sighed. “Certainly too young to see it in the cinema, Helen, but…err…not too young to have seen it on video.” She grinned. “But I think your version is rather better.” Then she considered the matter further. “Has…err….anyone else seen this, Helen?” she asked.
Helen Shagton grimaced slightly. “As a matter of fact, yes,” she replied, “Alas dear David did, accidentally….and I do mean accidentally, put this tape on during a Monthly Mother’s Meeting in the Easter holidays.”
Ava Frasch winced. “Oh, fuck,” she said, “any….err…problems from that?”
Helen Shagton smiled. “Not really,” she replied, “It gave David quite a shock, I expect, to find out that his mother had, well, another, well, err, slightly less respectable side to her, but then on reflection he’d probably already realized that, following on from Terrence’s Christmas caning….but actually the only result was several requests to buy copies of the tape, plus another couple of requests for The Professor’s telephone number.”
Have A Thrash laughed out loud. “Mother’s Meeting, you say?” she asked, “sounds more like a slut circle to me.”
Helen Shagton laughed out loud. “There is that, of course. But, either way, there you have it. An experience you don’t want to miss.” She paused. “At least, I assume that you don’t want to miss it? Not now, not now you’ve seen it in action?”
Ava Frasch rubbed herself again, and, this time, she came, quietly. She closed her eyes and shuddered as the orgasm worked its way through her system. “No,” she said, at length, “I wouldn’t want to miss it.”
Helen Shagton got up again and said, “Here, Ava, let me find you some tissue. We wouldn’t want you to spoil your knickers.”
Ava Frasch grinned. “Actually, my dress, Helen…I’m not wearing any knickers. I….err….took them off whilst George was….err….dealing with me earlier.”
Helen Shagton pursed her lips. “My oh my, WHAT a rude little girl you must have been, Ava?” she asked.
Ava Frasch grinned, and replied, “Much the same as you, I expect?” to which Helen Shagton responded, “Very likely.”
Helen Shagton arose again, “We should have our little light luncheon, first, I think, and by then George should be back from Fi’s.”
Have A Thrash nodded.
After the, ‘slight snack,’ as Helen Shagton had subsequently described it – actually it was a fairly substantial meal – they sat back down waiting for George to appear.
“We won’t do the washing up, of course,” said Helen Shagton, that’s men’s work, of course. At least, in this house, it is.”
Ava Frasch giggled, “I like it when they cook the meals as well,” she said, “like last night.”
Helen Shagton grinned. “I can only agree with you there. But, sometimes, I just have to manage.” She smote her brow with mock resignation.
“Err, ‘can’t get the staff?’ I think you were saying?” asked Ava Frasch.
Helen Shagton grinned, and then looked sly. “Ava,” she said, “I have a request for you for this afternoon’s session?”
Have A Thrash nodded. “Ask,” she said, “anything at all. My cunt? My tits? The whip? What did you have in mind?”
Helen Shagton sniggered. “Actually, no. Rather the reverse. You had such fun this morning getting it from David, that it reminded me it’s been quite some time since I last played submissive. I’d…I’d regard it as a favour if you’d like to Domme me this afternoon. And Domme dear George and me together, in fact?”
Ava Frasch gave a slightly masculine bow. “Your wish, my dear, is my command. Anything to oblige a Lady, as I think Shagger once said to me, cheeky boy that he is.”
Helen Shagton looked down at the floor. She had, Ava Frasch thought, already switched. “Thank you, Ma’am,” she replied, respectfully, “I appreciate that. Really, I do. Please be hard with me, Ma’am?”
Ava Frasch leaned forwards and slapped her cheek, gently. “Of that, my girl, you have my honest assurance,” she said, “and your bottom will know ALL about what proper punishment is like, if it didn’t already know….which I fear it does, you being the extremely naughty little girl that you are, of course.”
A whisper of a reply, “Thank you, Ma’am,” she said, again, wistfully, this time.
The back door opened. Ava Frasch looked up as George Shagton walked in, or, rather, slunk into the room. Well, she thought, hardly surprising since he was still starkers. Mind you, he was evidently more than a closet exhibitionist too, since he didn’t even bother to attempt to cover up his more prominent parts. Instead, he merely beamed at her, and bowed politely.
“Good afternoon, Ma’am,” he said, “and welcome back to our….humble home.”
She smiled tightly and slapped his face, good and hard.
“Thank you, Ma’am,” he replied, “was there any particular service you were requiring of me at this moment, or would you like me to start doing the dishes?” He looked around the kitchen as he spoke. It was fairly shambolic, indeed, with the remains of their lunch everywhere.
“Later, bad boy,” she said, “I am going to deal with a very naughty boy and girl this afternoon. You can sort out the dishes later.”
George Shagton looked at her. “Boy AND girl?” he asked.
She slapped his face again. “Whatever’s the matter with your hearing?” she snapped, “Boy AND girl.”
George Shagton simply smiled. Evidently, thought Ava Frasch, he could imagine exactly what she meant.
Ava Frasch walked back into the lounge and picked up the cane which she’d used on Dai Diamond, and paused for a moment to think through the scene she was going to work through. She gave a few practice swishes. It was indeed a good quality cane, she thought. Just right for dealing with both naughty boys’ and naughty girls’, bare bottoms. Then she walked slowly back into the kitchen.
Helen Shagton had already stripped off. She was now nude, apart from a slave collar which she’d managed to find seemingly from nowhere, and was standing, like her husband, hands on head. George Shagton, however, was also standing to attention in another department, too. Actually, Ava Frasch reflected, she had a really good body. George Shagton was a lucky man….on the rare occasions, of course, when he was allowed to actually make use of his wife. A second slave collar hung loosely over his erection.
“Please, Ma’am,” said Helen Shagton, “I’ve….err….taken the liberty of finding a suitable slave collar for this naughty boy, too, as well as mine, if that’s all right?” She glanced downwards at the slave collar on her husband’s straininhg erection. “As you can see, Ma’am,” she said, “I’ve left it for safe keeping, as you can see.”
Ava Frasch smiled. “Perfect,” she said, “put it on him where it belongs, bad girl….nice and tight.” She watched as George Shagton’s slave collar was applied, nice and tight.
“Bend over, the both of you,” she said.
Both the Shagton’s bent down.
She applied a couple of really hard whacks to each bare bottom. They both gasped. “That is simply so you will be aware that I tolerate NO nonsense….and that you will obey ALL orders INSTANTLY, or else.” A slight pause. “Got that?”
The, ‘yes, Ma’am,’ was instantaneous from each of them.
Ava Frasch considered. “First of all, I think, some exercise is required. It’s obvious to me that you’re both quite out of condition. Running on the spot, both of you. Begin!”
Helen and George Shagton started to run on the spot. As a PT teacher, Ava Frasch knew perfectly well the value of such an exercise. First of all, it was humiliating. Secondly, it was thoroughly pointless. Thirdly, it was, in itself, mildly erotic, especially when the victims were unclothed and the testicles and tits were bouncing around. She looked around the room. It was always difficult to cane a bottom when it was jumping up and down. Then she spotted a crop lying on the table which she was sure hadn’t been there five minutes previously. Helen Shagton was good, she thought. She shrugged her shoulders, and exchanged the cane for the crop. She smiled inwardly. Probably, she thought, it was one of Helen Shagton’s favourites. She swished it through the air.
“Keep those hands on head, both of you,” she ordered, and then added, “and get those knees up.”
With that, she walked behind them and started to apply the crop to each bottom in time with the jumps.
“Uh....uh….uh….uh,” said Helen Shagton.
“Ow….ow….ow….ow,” said George Shagton.
The Shagton’s continued to go nowhere, but they had started to perspire.
Well, thought Ava Frasch, ladies shine, but men simply sweat. She continued to whap their bare bottoms. “All right,” she said, finally, “you can stop now.”
They both stopped, gasping. She walked round to their fronts. George Shagton was now more than partly erected. Well, she thought, Georgie boy had obviously enjoyed the exercise. Now to check up on Helen. She leaned forward, and, looking into her eyes, put the crop under her chin. Then, with her other hand, she groped her cunt, sticking her finger right inside.
“Uhhhhhhh,” said Helen Shagton, with a slight smile on her face.
Ava Frasch rubbed her fingers together. “Wet,” she commented, “bad, bad girl.”
“Press ups now,” she went on, “a dozen, to start.”
She saw the Shagton’s look at each other with resignation in their eyes, but neither said anything. They both dropped to the floor and started work.
Progress was satisfactory for the first dozen, but then their performance started to deteriorate. Time, she thought, for the, ‘encouragement.’ She exchanged the crop for the cane again.
“Bottoms UP, both of you,” she ordered, and, as they each did so, she brought the cane whistling down onto the upturned offered bare bottom, really hard.
“Aghhhhhhh,” said George Shagton.
“Uhhhhhhhhhh,” said Helen Shagton.
Finally, agonizingly, they reached the end. Ava Frasch sniffed.
“Pathetic,” she said, “do them all again.”
Once again, she saw the look of complete horror in their faces. It was always so enjoyable when she did that to her charges at school. The looks of complete surrender, total abject humiliation, and young wills broken before hers. Such fun. In fact, she thought, one of the things which really made being a PT teacher really worthwhile.
“NO, Ma’am….please,” gasped George Shagton. His wife glanced at him, as if to say, ‘idiot boy,’ which was, of course, about the size of it.
“All right then, Georgie boy,” she said, soothingly, “in that case we’ll make it another two dozen. For both of you,” she added, looking into Helen Shagton’s eyes as she said it.
“Yes, Ma’am, thank you, Ma’am,” Helen Shagton said immediately.
Ava Frasch could see that Helen Shagton’s submissive side was enjoying all this humiliation with hard labour immensely, however she could also see that George Shagton was going to get it in the neck, or, more likely, balls, at a later stage as punishment for opening his mouth and putting his foot in it.
The press-ups became more and more ragged, and Ava Frasch was obliged to add more and more encouragement to them both. Finally, though, they reached the end, and lay down, gasping, on the floor, utterly spent. She gave them a couple of minutes’ recovery time, and slowly removed her skirt.
Glancing around the room, she saw where she’d dropped her knickers earlier whilst being oral pleasured by George, and added the skirt to the untidy heap.
She gave each bottom a final good hard whack. “Get up, both of you,” she snapped, “no slacking! On your knees, straight up now, hands on head.”
The Shagtons did so.
“Right, you two horrible specimens,” she went on, “it’s time for some showing me some proper respect, now. I want Helen at the front, please, and Georgie boy at the back. You both know what to do?”
Both Shagton’s said, in unison, “Yes, Ma’am.”
Ava Frasch stood up between them with her legs apart. Helen Shagton moved to her front, and, with a slight smile, slowly began to lick her cunt. Then she felt George at the back gently ease her bum cheeks apart and begin to tease her anus with his tongue. Oh, she thought, it felt SO good. Both Shagton’s were obviously experts at the craft of oral service, well, she’d found that out already the previous evening, of course, but with a job like this one could never have too much of a good thing. They both licked and tongued her and in only a matter of minutes she’d cum.
“That’s enough from you, bad girl,” she said, “let Georgie boy into your place and he can clean me up….well….actually he can do it again for me as well.”
Helen Shagton moved away, reluctantly, she thought, and said, “Please, Ma’am…..but what should I do now?”
She thought about it. “You can knacker his balls, girl. He needs some punishment for my pleasure, after all.”
The Shagton’s moved into position. George Shagton started to lick her all over again, and suddenly gasped as his wife’s hands contacted with his testicles.
Ava Frasch shivered with sheer pleasure as she came a second time, and then a third. She held his head harder against her cunt, and moaned in ecstasy. She looked down to see his face of pain as his wife continued to stretch his balls. She saw Helen Shagton smile as she enjoyed giving her husband the testicular torture he equally obviously craved. She came another three times.
Ava Frasch shivered and wondered how she ought to conclude the session. She really ought to be thinking about going. She had a long drive ahead of her, after all. Then she had a sudden inspiration.
“Helen,” she asked, “What day is it of George’s No Sex For A Month?”
Helen Shagton frowned. “I can’t remember, Ava,” she said, obviously having slipped out of submissive mode. She turned to her husband.
“George?” she asked.
“Please, Ma’am,” he replied, “It’s day thirty.”
Ava Frasch looked at him. Then she looked at his penis. Certainly it looked like day thirty. “I think, bad boy,” she said, “that thirty days does make a month. It’s time we gave you some real teasing. With a sting in the tail, of course.”
The Shagtons both looked at her expectantly.
“What we will do, is that Helen here will lie down, you will put that naughty penis inside her, where it rather obviously wants to be, and then I will apply a Sex Thrashing of a dozen whacks.”
Helen Shagton smiled. “And the sting, Ma’am?” she asked.
“Oh, yes,” said Ava Frasch, “the sting. Well, the sting of your Sex Thrashing, Georgie Boy,” she stroked his cheek as she spoke, “No humping her, of course. And also, should you spunk before I get to the end, then it’s another No Sex For A Month to enable you to contemplate your naughtiness at length.”
George Shagton flushed, “Oh, Ma’am,” he said.
Helen Shagton merely giggled and rubbed her cunt.
Helen Shagton lay down enticingly.
With a slight sigh, George Shagton moved down onto his wife, “Uhhhhhhh,” he said, in obvious pleasure as his erection moved inside her.
Helen Shagton said, virtuously, “Don’t think you’re going to get treats like this every time, bad boy.”
Ava Frasch picked up the cane.
Swishhhhhhhhhhhhhhhthwackkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk
“Uh,” said George Shagton, with a jump. “One, Ma’am,” he said
Swishhhhhhhhhhhhhhhthwackkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk
“Ohh,” he said, “two, Ma’am.”
Swishhhhhhhhhhhhhhhthwackkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk
He shivered as he jumped slightly at the sting of the cane, and then gasped slightly at the thrill of the fuck which resulted from the jump. “Three, Ma’am,” he said.
Swishhhhhhhhhhhhhhhthwackkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk
“Ohhhh…..ohhhh….four, Ma’am,” he ground out.
Swishhhhhhhhhhhhhhhthwackkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk
Swishhhhhhhhhhhhhhhthwackkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk
Swishhhhhhhhhhhhhhhthwackkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk
“Ahhhhh,” he said, his face turned upwards, “six, Ma’am, thank you Ma’am.”
Helen Shagton giggled. “Half way, dearest. Think you can hold off for another half dozen without cumming?”
The look of agony on his face told Ava Frasch that George Shagton wasn’t at all sure. She rubbed her own cunt to get some cunt scent onto her fingers, and then held her hand next to his nose.
“You like my cunt scent, don’t you, Georgie Boy?” she asked, teasingly. “Next time we meet, you may get to sample me, as well. If you’ve been a good boy, of course.”
He moaned at the teasing.
Swishhhhhhhhhhhhhhhthwackkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk
Swishhhhhhhhhhhhhhhthwackkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk
He jumped again, strongly, this time. “Eight, Ma’am……oh….oh….eight Ma’am…..oh….oh…..OHHHHHHHHH,”
Helen Shagton said, “ooops…….WHAT a bad boy. He’s spunking inside me, Ava.”
Ava Frasch shook her head. “Oh well, George. You were warned. No Sex now for another month. And still four whacks of your Sex Thrashing.”
He turned his head towards her in mental turmoil. She always loved it when men and boys looked hopelessly at her like that, knowing that there was no chance of any mercy from her, no chance of any reprieve.
Swishhhhhhhhhhhhhhhthwackkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk
Swishhhhhhhhhhhhhhhthwackkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk
“Aggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh,” he gasped. The caning obviously now hurt him far more than it had done before, now that he’d spunked. “Oh, ten, Ma’am,” he gasped.
Swishhhhhhhhhhhhhhhthwackkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk
Swishhhhhhhhhhhhhhhthwackkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk
“Twelve….twelve….Ohhhhhhh….twelve…..THANK you, Ma’am,” he said, arching his head back, “thank you for caning this bad boy so hard.”
Ava Frasch giggled. “My pleasure, of course,” she said.
From the floor, Helen Shagton said, brightly, “Now that we’ve all had our fun, I think tea and cakes for us both, Ava?”
She nodded in reply. It sounded a good idea to her.
“Get yourself out of me, George, and think of the fond memory of what my cunt feels like, since you won’t have the pleasure for another month.”
Ava Frasch grinned as George Shagton closed his eyes and moaned slightly. He got up, however, and, with obvious resignation, put on his black frilly apron in order to resume his maid’s duties. Ava Frasch helped Helen Shagton to her feet. Then they both walked into the lounge and sat down, comfortably.
Tea and cakes were forthcoming. “You may eat yours in the kitchen,” Helen Shagton said, and her husband bowed.
They were good. “Baked them himself,” Helen Shagton said, mildly. Then she went on, “It’s been really good having you here, Ava,” she said, “do feel free to call again whenever you wish….a little notice is useful so I can ensure that the kiddies are out of the way, of course.”
Ava Frasch nodded. “My pleasure, certainly. And I hope to be able to drive Georgie Boy into screaming frustration over the thought of my cunt next time.”
Helen Shagton grinned. “He’ll like that,” she said.
“Now,” said Ava Frasch, “I really must away. My overnight bag is in the hall, I think?” She stood up.
Helen Shagton did too, and rang a bell. George Shagton entered. Despite their lack of clothes, Ava Frasch gave Helen Shagton a very familiar cuddle. Plus a sharp slap on the bottom, too. George Shagton watched them, a very old fashioned look on his face. She winked at him.
“Are you going to go like that, Ava?” asked Helen Shagton, curiously.
She nodded. “I thought I might, at that,” she admitted, “after all, we were talking earlier about nude driving, and it’s been a while. I’ve got my skirt and knicks OK in my overnight bag.” She winked at Helen Shagton, and stroked her cheek. Then she turned to George Shagton, and stroked his cheek. Slowly, she moved her hand down until it was holding him under his chin. She said to him, “think of me, bad boy….” and then kneed him smartly in the balls.
He gasped, leaned forwards, clutching at his tenderest parts, and moaned, “Yes….Ma’am….I shall….certainly be….thinking of you.”
Helen Shagton giggled. “As indeed you should do, bad boy.”
Ava Frasch walked rapidly out of the house, checking quickly to see that there were no passers by who might be unnerved at a pretty Lady wandering around without skirt or knickers, and got into her car. She looked up, saw the Shagtons both waving to her, and waved back whilst she reversed the car out of the driveway. Then she was away. She looked at the car clock. Uh huh, she thought. A whole lot later than she’d originally expected, but, well, it was the holidays, after all, and she was on her own time. A pity in one respect, she thought, that the lease on her flat and shop had finished when it had, but, there again, maybe not, because it had enabled her to walk away from the shop without that liability, and since St Stricktlands School was kind enough to supply free board and lodge at all time to teachers who wanted it, her living expenses were now fairly minimal.
The only thing was, of course, that she couldn’t screw around easily with Georgie Boy because of the distance. Then she brightened up. There were trains, after all, and the Shagtons would put her up any time she wanted, so where was the problem. She knew that Shagger was going to spend a week or so away at his dearest Aunt Marge’s place during the summer holidays, and so that left plenty of scope for her to sneak in some quality play time with Helen and Georgie Boy if she wanted. And there’d be opportunities to play with Shagger during the new school term, of course. She started her journey.
It was soon early evening, and the light was just starting to fade. She was now on the open road, well away from urban areas. A lay-by was signed up ahead. With a grin, she signalled into it, hoping that there were no HGV’s stopped. Good, she thought, all clear. She stopped the car, and then wriggled out of her remaining clothes. Then she kicked off her heels. All of these items she placed into her overnight bag.
She started off again, feeling deliciously naughty. She well understood how Helen Shagton so appreciated the delightful feeling of freedom which nude driving somehow gave.
An hour later and she was only a few miles from the school. Now the light really was starting to give out. Suddenly there were flashing lights up ahead. Hell, she thought, the fuzz. Then she remembered that she was nude. No time to dress, either. The police car flagged her down. A smartly dressed, young police constable held up his arms. She stopped, heart pounding, and wound the window down.
“Good evening, Ma’am,” he said, with the utmost courtesy.
“G….good evening, Officer,” she replied, wondering why on earth he’d stopped her. After all, she wasn’t driving erratically or anything.
He flashed a torch around the car, and then held it onto her legs. Bare, of course. The torch light strayed upwards to her equally bare tits, then onto her face. Clearly, he’d seen everything….well, everything which mattered.
“I wonder if you’d just step out of the car, Miss,” he said, “and stand up against the side, arms outwards?”
Ava Frasch didn’t believe any of this. However, she did as instructed. The policeman then proceeded to frisk her, even though she was wearing nothing at all, and ran his hands up and down her inside legs, before groping her bare bottom. Then he fondled her tits. She thought, wildly, that this simply couldn’t be happening, because English policemen simply didn’t treat innocent Ladies like this. However, another part of her mind knew that it was enjoying itself, and was saying, ‘more, more,’ to her even now. And she could feel how damp she was getting between the legs, too.
The policeman sighed, loudly. “I am afraid, Miss,” he said, “that I shall have to ask you to accompany me to the station.”
Now her heart really was in her mouth. A promising career as PT teacher flashed before her.
“Park your car over there,” he gestured towards another lay-by, “and lock it securely. You can bring your bag with you,” he sniggered slightly, “especially if it has any of your clothes in it.”
Indecent exposure, perhaps, she reckoned? A month in jail? Maybe it would or it wouldn’t do her reputation any good. ‘Private school teacher in nude drive, scandal,’ she imagined the local newspaper headlines.
She parked the car, locked it, and walked across to the police car. A passing motorist honked his horn in ribald appreciation of her state of obvious undress. The policeman held the door open for her, and she reluctantly climbed inside. They set off. It was, she knew, not that far to the county police headquarters.
They’d only been driving for a couple of minutes, when she realized suddenly that they were driving in the wrong direction. She looked at the policeman.
He grinned at her. “Not far, now….Ms Frasch,” he said, with a wink.
Sudden bells clanged within her brain. How the fuck did he know her name? Weakly, she asked him, “I don’t suppose it for a minute….but, would you by any merest shadow of a chance, be Thor Thring?”
He nodded courteously. “The very same, Miss, at your service,” he replied.
Her mind raced. How, how, how, she thought. Then she got it. The logic chain. Always easy when you knew it, of course. “Helen Shagton?” she asked, with heavy irony.
Thor Thring looked at her delightedly. “But of course, Ms Frasch,” he said, “Helen Shagton - naughty girl that she is - rang my father just after you left. She said that you were driving here, in, shall we say, in less than normal attire, gave us your car registration number, and also mentioned that you were, well, let’s say, extremely interested in the idea of a session with him.”
She looked at him, open mouthed. Gagging for it would have been a better description.
“And,” he went on, “since it’s school holidays right now, he’s not too busy, plus, of course, well, you ARE a St Stricktlands school teacher, and so your contract does entitle you to his….err….facilities whenever there’s a spare slot available.”
She looked at him. “Accompany me to the station?” she asked, mimicking his words but adding heavy irony, “have you ANY idea how much I was panicking just then?”
He grinned. “But of course,” he replied, “all part of the fun, naturally….well, for me, that is.” Then he added, blandly, “Stern Hall is only a few minutes from here now.”
They arrived at Stern Hall. A faded notice proclaimed to the world at large that, ‘Trespassers will be thrashed.’ Thor Thring stopped in the courtyard.
“I have…..err…other duties,” he said, “But I shall arrange for the repatriation of your car in due course. It will be here for you tomorrow morning, when you need it,” he added.
“Thank you, Thor,” she said, handing him her car keys, “not staying to set up the….err….equipment, then?”
He frowned. “Equipment, Ms Frasch?” he asked.
She shook her head. “The equipment which does all the….err….recordings, I mean,” she said, with a guilty memory of what she’d seen earlier.
He shook his head. “All ready done, and waiting, just for the next volunteer,” he said. Then he added, mildly, “I really do have other duties, since I really AM a policeman, of course.”
She grinned, teasingly. “But of course, Thor,” she replied. Then she fingered his handcuffs which adorned his belt, “I think you only do the job to put people into handcuffs,” she said.
He winked at her. “It goes down well at parties, of course,” he replied.
She wondered what kind of parties he went to. S&M ones, presumably.
Thor Thring got out of the car, and walked around to the passenger side. Courteously, he opened the door, and held it for her. She got out, holding her overnight bag. Then he saluted. She had an almost overwhelming urge to take hold of his testicles, and knacker him good and hard, but felt that it wouldn’t be appropriate. Then she thought, what the fuck, and did it anyway. His legs buckled, and he bent forward, as men and boys always did when they were knackered. She gave him the regulation three count of three, and then let him go.
He straightened up. “Thank you, Ma’am,” he said, “please feel free to repeat that manoeuvre any time you wish,”
She winked at him, and kissed his cheek. “I hope to see more of you, Thor,” she said, “the summer holidays are long, you know, and I….well, I wouldn’t want to be….err….lonely all that time, now would I?”
He grinned at her, “My pleasure, Ma’am,” he said, “and I shall, of course, look forward to it.” He patted her bare bottom. “Mustn’t keep father waiting, you know,” he said, “he likes all his naughty Ladies to keep time.”
She looked at him. “Otherwise he’s liable to beat time?” she asked.
“That is about it,” he replied, “off you go, now.” He walked back to the driver’s side, got in, and drove away again with a cheery wave.
She watched the car go. Fun, she thought, for the future. Thor Thring was a very personable young man, very fetching and sweet, and she looked forward immensely to finding out how submissive he might be underneath all that lovely dominant uniform.
Then she remembered that she was here for the specific purpose, at least according to Wodin Thring, of determining whether or not she was a slut. Well, she thought, no need to waste time on THAT question, of course. She knew perfectly well that she was a slut, always had been and always would be. But she was really, really, looking forward to a session with the Thring’s Things. Some exceptionally pointed and provocative phalluses……should that, she suddenly wondered, be phalli?....which her cunt was suddenly craving, well, just the ticket to really round off a perfect day.
She walked quickly up the long path and saw the dark surreal surrounds of the Gothic mansion that was Stern Hall. The heavy iron front door creaked open when she pushed against it. She wondered whether Wodin Thring ever worried about burglars. Hardly, she thought. Any burglar would end up in a balls torture machine in minutes. She expected that the local bad lads were fully aware of this and had long since crossed Stern Hall off their, ‘to do,’ list.
A long dark corridor with blazing torches marked the way into the centre of doom where her fate lay for this evening. She blinked in the sudden light.
An elderly man with brilliant white hair stood there, smiling. “Do I have the honour of meeting Ms Ava Frasch?” he asked.
She replied, “Yes, Sir, indeed. And I, likewise, the honour of meeting the famous Professor Wodin Thring?”
He beamed and bowed. “The pleasure is mine.”
She sniggered. “I very much hope that the pleasure is going to be mine. Oh, Sir,” she said, “I saw Helen Shagton’s….err….Interlude Tape earlier today, and I want some of the same.” Pause, “Well, all right, a lot of the same.”
Wodin Thring smiled again. “I take it you’re already a confirmed sex slut, girl?” he asked.
She grinned. “Of the first order. I need fucking by one of your lovely machines. Right now, if you please, Sir.”
Wodin Thring exhaled. “What a rude little girl you must have been,” he said, mildly, “still, always happy to oblige a Lady, of course.” Pause. “Bondage too?”
She nodded. “Of course bondage too, Sir,” she said, “hell, I was raped this morning by Shagger under bondage. I’m not normally this submissive, you understand, but today my submissive side seems to have the upper hand, if you’ll forgive the oxymoron.”
Another bow. “I see young David Shagton had been up to his old tricks again,” he said, “you must tell me about it some time. “Then, “Right over here, then, girl,” he said, pointing to what looked like, and what probably was, she thought, a sex torture table.
She lay down, spread her legs wide, gave her cunt a final rub, and offered her wrists and ankles for the restraints. Oh, she was so wet, already, down there.
Wodin Thring duly obliged with heavy metal shackles. She wriggled.
Then she had a sudden thought. “You WILL be recording this, won’t you, Sir?” she asked.
He nodded, pointing upwards to the ceiling, where the hidden cameras were obviously already rolling.
“Thank you, Sir,” she said. She wriggled again. She was good and helpless, with her best asset ready for invasion.
He wheeled a machine into position. “Teasing first?” he asked, mildly.
Ava Frasch thought about the Interlude Tape. “Hell, yes, Sir,” she said, “tease me for a whole hour before letting me cum.”
Wodin Thring considered. “A whole hour?” he asked, “my, your submissive side really IS submissive, isn’t it? When it kicks in, I mean?" She nodded. “I’ve selected your Thing for you, then,” he said, with a grin, “this one’s the McFee.”
She considered this. “Because it will fuck me senseless³?” she asked.
A quick nod. “Exactly,” he replied, “by the way, no worries about your car. Thor and I will collect it presently for you, whilst you’re….err….otherwise occupied.” He smiled. “Would you be happy to stop over here tonight, Ms Frasch?”
She nodded, marvelling at the incongruity of talking about such domestic trivialities whilst tied down to a torture table and about to be fucked under outrageous sexual humiliation.
“Thank you, yes, Sir,” she said, “I doubt that I’ll be in any condition to be going anywhere in an hour’s time.”
Wodin Thring bowed again. “Quite so, my dear,” he said, “I’ll leave you to it, then.” With that, he slowly inserted the Thing inside her, and switched it on.
An eternity later, Ava Frasch was bitterly resenting herself for asking for all that teasing. She was drenched in perspiration, her heart was beating wildly, her normally melodious voice was a dry husk after a whole lot of thoroughly pointless shouting and screaming, and her cunt was driving her insane. She rather thought she understood better now just what men and boys routinely had to suffer when it came to sexual release. She sagged against the shackles. No more, she thought, no more. Flesh and blood and can only take so much.
She blearily opened her eyes. A vague outlined shaped stood next to her. “Enough, girl?” he enquired, mildly.
“Enough, Sir,” she said, “I can’t take any more. I beg you, Sir, please let me cum.”
He patted her cheek, and walked across to the Thing. A simple flick of a switch would, it seemed, alter the Thing’s settings, and send her from hell to heaven in seconds. Wodin Thing stood watching her. “I’ll let it fuck you senseless, now,” he said, “I doubt that it will take very long, you wicked girl.”
Ava Frasch didn’t doubt it, either.
Then the Thing was at her again, only this time it didn’t stop her quivering right on the edge, as it had done for the best part of the previous hour. Now it continued right on, and allowed her to cum. Great orgasmic tidal waves rode over her whole body. She came wildly, screaming as she did so.
The machine allowed her a couple of minutes’ grace, and then it was at her again. Another climax built up. Another shattering orgasm followed. And another. And another. She stopped counting her orgasms at ten. She knew that very soon she was going to be fucked senseless, just the same as Helen Shagton had been, and she wanted it so much.
A day to remember it certainly was. Starting off with rape, a whole lot of oral in between, and ending up by being fucked senseless by a machine. Not bad going. Finally, she passed out, as she knew she would, from sheer sinful sexual satisfaction.
To be continued……
¹ Double Diamond Burton was a brand of UK ale. During the 1960’s it was advertised on TV, with the catchy jingle, ‘A Double Diamond works wonders, works wonders, works wonders. A Double Diamond works wonders, so drink some today.’ (With many thanks to Wikipedia)
² As a punishment from the gods, the late king Sisyphus was compelled to roll a huge boulder up a steep hill for all eternity, but, every time, just before he could reach the top, the rock would always roll back down, forcing him to begin all over again. The maddening nature of the punishment bound Sisyphus to an eternity of frustration. (With many thanks to Wikipedia)
³ As in Lisa McFee-Sven-Sless, a teacher at St Stricktlands School, and known by that nick name.
4 Heavy goods vehicles
