“I see we're getting off to a bad start,” Miss Hellview said quietly, the threat in her voice clear. “Emily, I also want to know: exactly where is your school uniform? My niece specifically informed me you were given one last night.”
Of course.
No surprise-Velda lied to her aunt, but I'd never win claiming she was the liar, not me. In any case, the badly-hurt-Carol issue seemed the more serious one facing me at the moment, so I looked to Miss Hellview with what I hoped was an expression of sincere regret.
I stood before her wide desk, still in my skimpy gym shorts. Her office seemed no more cheery than the night before when I'd first arrived, but actually (due to the current circumstances, when I thought about it) suddenly seemed considerably less so.
“I'm sorry, Miss Hellview,” I started. “I didn't mean to hurt Carol. I just threw the ball back to her after she threw it at me. It was dodge ball.”
Miss Hellview was again dressed darkly, in a black full-length dress, her sleek blonde hair primly pulled back and tightly pinned behind her head. Her intense blue eyes studied me, much as a bird of prey might consider potential quarry.
“You threw the ball at Carol,” she clarified. “Not to her, as you say. And the nurse has driven her into town, to see the doctor. It seems several fragile bones in her face might be broken.”
Oops.
“Again, I'm sorry. Very sorry.”
She steepled her hands in front of her then, elbows on her desk, tapping her two forefingers together in what I took to be a thoughtful pose.
“I suppose accidents happen,” she conceded. “And if it was an accident, as you say it was, I intend to treat it in that manner-rather than as an intended injury to another student.”
“Yes, ma'am, that's the truth.”
Sort of. Carol had tried to kill me with the ball first.
“But the issue of your missing uniform is a serious infraction,” Miss Hellview informed me, suddenly standing. “As the other students are aware, punishment is mandatory, if you've lost it. So, please tell me, Emily: where exactly is the school uniform you were issued and why are you not wearing it?”
And she walked around her desk slowly and stood before me, waiting with an inquisitive smile for my answer. I was again struck by the fact that, although her subdued dress and manner caused her to seem far older (and more serious!) than the smooth perfection of her face would suggest, she was probably just a good-looking young woman in her late 20's.
“Emily, I'd like an explanation,” she intoned. “Now.”
“Well…” I started, thinking fast. “Here's what must've happened…”
My punishment for letting my brand new, apparently expensive school uniform get stolen in the middle of the night, Miss Hellview informed me, was to actually be paddled. For real, this time.
I couldn't believe it.
“There's no paddling anymore,” I said in my defense, subtly leaning back away from her. “Not in school. I don't even think it's legal these days.”
That she believed me about my missing uniform, that it could be stolen out of the room I shared with Maryanne and Pamela while we were sleeping, seemed absurd to me as well. There was no way. Far more likely was the truth, simply that I'd never been given the damn thing by her niece, Velda-a conclusion which I'd first assumed she'd come to on her own.
But, no, Miss Hellview stood there and believed (or pretended to believe) my ridiculous lie.
“This isn't a public institution,” she informed me. “As a private school, you may either abide by our rules, including accepting our punishments as stated, or leave. I don't think your parents would appreciate your expulsion on your first day, especially after paying for you to attend here.”
I nodded, thinking hard.
She was right about one thing-my mother would kill me if I got thrown out. And if I tried going back home to live with them, she'd probably divorce my dad on the spot. So that was out of the question.
On the other hand, my poor little bare ass was still sore from the surprise paddling I'd gotten the night before from Velda and her friends, so I wasn't exactly looking forward to more of that.
But I knew enough not to say anything about it.
“I'll take the paddling,” I finally nodded. “But I hurt my, uh, bottom this week, in a boating accident with some friends. I landed right on it and it's still sore. Could you paddle me after it feels better?”
Miss Hellview seemed to think it over, nodding to herself, but then smiled and said, “Show me where you've been injured. If it looks too severe, I'll come up with a later date for your punishment.”
I just stared at her.
“Really?” I asked, again surprised. “Show you my butt? Right here?”
She gave me another smile, this one, I could tell, intended to appear sympathetic, although I knew better.
“How else can I decide?” she asked. “Pull down your gym shorts and panties in back, just enough so I can see.”
“Well, okay…”
The paddling rules at the school made it mandatory that another teacher or responsible adult be present, apparently as a witness of sorts. So before Miss Hellview even took a look at my 'injury' under my shorts, she picked up her phone and asked Ms. Dykstra to join us.
“How is Carol doing?” she asked when the gym teacher walked in.
Ms. Dykstra closed the door behind her, then gave me a withering glance. “No bones were broken, but because it's a head injury, the doctor in town called her parents. They're taking her back home for a week to make certain she's okay.”
Miss Hellview nodded somberly at the news, then turned back to me.
I'd been standing silently, waiting for the results on Carol's condition, nervous enough about a potential paddling from the stern blonde headmistress. Now that the tough-looking gym teacher was joining us, I was more than nervous: verging on possible hysteria might be a better description.
“I'm glad nothing was broken,” I offered. “Really.”
But both woman entirely ignored me.
“Emily has lost her school uniform,” Miss Hellview informed the teacher. “And will receive a paddling. However, she claims to have an injured bottom, something about a fall in a boating accident, so we need to discover the extent of her injuries before I make a decision.”
Ms. Dykstra eyes briefly lit up at the news, but she quickly contained herself and nodded with what I then took to be feigned indifference. Her duty, in other words, to assist in administering my punishment.
Huh.
She obviously couldn't wait to get in on my paddling. Or else, she just wanted a good look at my bare little butt. Which, considering everything else going on at the school, wouldn't be all that much of a surprise.
“Very well,” Ms. Dykstra said, “Let's take a look.”
And they had me stand a few steps back from the large desk, facing it and leaning forward with my hands on the edge of it in the classic 'assume the pose' stance. As if I was about to be frisked by the police or something. I'd seen enough cop shows on TV to know that much, at least.
Standing like that, in only my skimpy gym shorts, little tee-shirt and white tennis shoes, I felt extremely vulnerable. Which, I guess, was exactly how they both wanted me to feel.
“And, in case Emily's injuries aren't all that serious,” Miss Hellview said, “we'll administer her punishment immediately.”
And she showed me the paddle she was suddenly holding, either the same one or an exact duplicate of the flat springy paddle with holes in it that her niece and her two friends had used on me the night before.
“That paddle?!” I blurted out.
Which got me a surprised look in return.
“You seem familiar with it,” Miss Hellview said. “Have you seen it somewhere before?”
I just shrugged, knowing better than to get into that particular conversation: my word against Velda's.
“No, ma'am,” I shook my head, and then lied. “I was just surprised. My, uh, father used a paddle like that on me, when I was bad.”
Suddenly, I could tell I'd somehow attracted the interest of both women. And not an interest that was purely professional. More like an unwholesome prurient interest, if that could be believed.
“Is that so?” the lanky Ms. Dykstra asked, and coughed. The way someone might who was trying to cover a sudden quaver to her voice. “Well, Emily…just how often were you bad?”
I shrugged again, then said, “A few times a week, I guess.”
“So your father paddled you that often?” Miss Hellview was clearly curious, too. Intensely so, it seemed. “Because you were bad?”
This was getting weird, but at that point, I'd do anything to stall. And I could tell the mood in the room had changed, had somehow become vaguely similar to the oddly sexually-charged atmosphere of the night before.
The entire school, I then fully realized, from the youngest student right up to the blonde headmistress herself, was apparently highly sensitive to the issue of girls who were bad — in fact, that was the point of the school itself, after all, a private school for bad girls. Girls who needed punishment. Bad little girls, all of them.
Including me. Seriously, so.
In fact, thinking of the reason I'd actually been sent there, I guessed I was probably the baddest of the bad. I mean, not only had I been fucking my own dad, I'd wanted it so much I'd 'put out' for him whenever there was any chance at all of getting his big stiff dick into me.
“I was a very bad little girl,” I admitted, which was true but not in the actual way they believed. “So I got paddled. A lot. On my bare butt, usually.”
I decided to throw that in on the spur of the moment. Improvising, I think it's called.
“Really…?” my gym teacher asked. “Not through your pants?”
I just shrugged with a little shake of my head.
“And then…” I started, but hesitated, playing it out for all it was worth. Finally, I haltingly admitted, “I'd lock myself in my room after each time and…masturbate, even though I knew it was a sin. It just felt too good to stop.”
And even though they were standing behind me, I could tell Miss Hellview and Ms. Dykstra were staring at me, silently, imagining me doing exactly that: a skinny little 11-year-old with a sore butt feverishly using her fingers in her sweet little pussy to further pleasure herself after each paddling by her father.
Definitely a very sick bad little girl.
“Is that why you were sent here?” Miss Hellview finally asked, clearing her throat as she did so. “You were caught masturbating…?”
I stiffened as if embarrassed by the admission, then finally nodded.
“My father paddled me so hard, I actually had…an orgasm. And after, I was so confused, I forgot to lock my bedroom door. And then my parents both walked in and caught me, because I was masturbating so hard I didn't hear them. They're both very religious.”
Wow. I was getting good at this.
After a very long silence, Miss Hellview finally said, “Very well. Let's take a look at your injuries, so I can make my decision. I'll just pull down your gym shorts and panties in back…”
It was impossible to miss that her voice had grown slightly hoarse.
“Okay.”
If either one of them breathed while her hands gripped the sides of my gym shorts and tugged them slightly down, I couldn't hear it. I stood stock still, knowing the effect I was having on both women, my firm little ass one of my best features.
To anyone who cared to look at it, male or female.
And look at it they did, Miss Hellview pulling down my panties next, so that my shorts and my underpants were half-way down my bare butt, only the gently rounded top half of it exposed to their eyes.
“You can pull them down farther,” I offered. “All the way, even. It hurts more near the bottom.”
I'd subtly arched my narrow lower back so that my little butt was tilted upward slightly, firming up my rounded cheeks into two perfect handfuls almost impossible to resist. Miss Hellview cleared her throat again, then tugged my shorts down the rest of the way, my panties following a moment later.
They dropped down my slender legs, landing around my tennis shoes. I stepped out of them, spreading my feet wider apart to give them both a better look at my bare ass, but more importantly at the real me as well: my perfect little pink cunt.
“That was no boating accident,” Ms. Dykstra informed the headmistress. “But I don't believe we should be overly hasty…”
I could tell Miss Hellview herself was studying me intently back there.
“Your…buttocks are slightly red in a few places, but seem unharmed,” she said somewhat stiffly. “In fact, they appear quite…healthy.”
Ms. Dykstra by then was breathing hard enough to make her voice shaky.
“Is this where it hurts?” she asked me.
And without any warning, I felt my gym teacher's hand suddenly fondle the left cheek of my bare ass. Almost lovingly. She did it in a way, actually, so that her fingertips were partly into the crack of my butt, giving my entire cheek a quick squeeze before she moved her hand over to my other bare cheek.
“Or over here?” she asked, throatily.
I gave her one of my little shrugs, openly unconcerned that the two older women were taking their time back there-not exactly what the rule-makers had in mind, probably, when they insisted a teacher or other adult be present.
“It doesn't hurt right there,” I said, yet still insisted, “But it does hurt. In general. Maybe go still lower.”
And as I stood balanced with both hands on the desk and my bare ass sticking out in the air, they both began to gently feel my butt, examining it, I'd say, as if looking for the elusive injury I'd claimed.
“That feels kind of nice,” I admitted, encouraging them. It did feel nice. In fact, my legs were beginning to tremble. “Maybe just rub it back there until it feels better, and then you can paddle me as much as you want…”
Talk about getting two older women excited, especially two women already busy fondling a half-naked little 5th-grader's bare ass.
“Tell us if it becomes…uncomfortable for you,” Miss Hellview breathed. It was obvious she was immensely enjoying the entire charade. “Let me get some lotion to use. To make it feel better.”
And while my gym teacher continued to gently rub and squeeze my bare butt, one rubbery cheek at a time, Miss Hellview went into her private bathroom and came quickly back out, apparently with some kind of lotion to use on me.
“This should make it hurt less,” she told me. “Ms. Dykstra, if I may…?”
Clearly meaning: move your hand and let me at her!
I'd closed my eyes while much of the fondling took place, but I opened them abruptly at the sudden tropical smell that reached my nostrils. I sniffed. Then smiled to myself. I recognized the mango-flavored lubrication she was using.
“Is that mango?” I asked, then made a soft little moaning sound in my throat when she began applying it to my butt, her fingers lightly kneading it into my flesh. “It smells so familiar…”
Miss Hellview stopped, obviously puzzled.
“It is a mango-scented lotion,” she told me, not mentioning that it really was a lubrication sold primarily for use during sex. “A skin lotion, actually. Like a moisturizer. Have you ever used it before?”
“It's embarrassing,” I said quietly. “Really embarrassing…”
Behind me, it was silent a long moment. I could picture Miss Hellview and Ms. Dykstra sharing a curious glance, wondering what juicy tidbit of confession I'd have for them now.
And I could tell I was rapidly becoming a favorite student of theirs, which was my intention all along, of course. I could see no other way to handle my time here at my new school. Not with Velda and her gang running loose.
In a dirty fight, fight dirty.
“Emily…” Ms. Dykstra took the lead. “You can tell us anything, and it'll be kept in strictest confidence. We're here to not only educate you, but also to help you in any way we can…”
“That's right, dear,” Miss Hellview picked it up from there. “We're not here to judge you, but rather to guide you through the sometimes troubling issues that adolescence often brings…”
“Well…”
Their eager hands had returned to my naked bottom as we'd talked, squeezing and rubbing it with the added pleasurable sensation of the warm and exceptionally slippery mango lubrication.
It was very much turning me on. Actually, I was worried my knees would suddenly buckle, I was trembling so much.
And speaking of my knees, I sort of glanced down between them, and discovered both women kneeling on the carpet behind me, Miss Hellview in her long black dress, Ms. Dykstra still in her gym uniform. They'd both kicked their shoes off and were more at less looking up my juicy pink cunt as they expertly massaged my 'injured' butt.
It must've been extremely obvious to them how slickly wet I was, and how sexually excited I was becoming. I could tell my bare inner thighs were already growing warmly damp with the subtle seepage of my natural juiciness.
“A girlfriend of mine stole a tube of that mango lotion from her mother's medicine cabinet,” I went on. “And gave it to me. It was so slippery, I used it on my…vagina, when I masturbated. Like, directly on my clitoris.”
Ms. Dykstra actually gasped behind me, then coughed long and theatrically until Miss Hellview had to thump her on the back. “I'm fine,” my gym teacher finally said to her. “Thanks, Christina.”
Miss Hellview then returned her full attention to me.
“Is the scent of it bringing back an odd memory?” she asked.
She hoped. But I merely shrugged again.
“Not odd-a good one,” I admitted. “I always came so hard using it. Just smelling it's getting me aroused. It makes me really want to masturbate. I'm sorry, sometimes I just can't help myself…”
I allowed myself the tiniest little sob, shaking my head.
And after only the briefest silence, Miss Hellview said, “Maybe we can help you in that way, Ms. Dykstra and I…if you'd let us.”
I swallowed hard at the thought of their help, then nodded as if giving in to a new temptation I simply wasn't strong enough to resist. Or maybe it was more like I didn't fully understand. Whatever.
“Help me masturbate, you mean…?” I asked uncertainly, as if debating the issue with myself. “Both of you?”
“We'd have to consider it something of a medical situation, actually,” Miss Hellview answered. “But I do have a couple of electric massagers in my private quarters, which might give you some very strong relief. Not that long ago, medical doctors used similar devices to relieve their female patients of the 'vapors,' which was really just the pent-up need for a very strong orgasm.”
“Huh.”
I'd heard of that, of course, from my own father, always eager to fill me in on every sexual oddity that he found amusing. Actual doctors, some decades ago, getting paid to vibrate their female patients into one orgasm after another.
What a racket. And what fun that must've been.
Anyway, Miss Hellview was still rubbing my slickened bare ass, her hand on one firm cheek and Ms. Dykstra's hand on the other, when one of her long fingers inadvertently slipped into the warm crevice between them: my butt crack. Her fingertip suddenly touched my slick, twitchy little asshole, just brushing it with the lightest pressure.
Which gave me a start, and a little jerk of my slim hips.
“Oh!” I gasped softly. “Sorry, I'm real sensitive back there. In my butthole.”
“I can tell,” she said. “But if you think it'd help, Ms. Dykstra and I'll excuse you from your next two classes and use the massagers on you-just until you get the obvious relief you need.”
And apparently to prove it, and emboldened by my apparent willingness to let them help, she slowly slid her long slim finger into my well-lubed asshole. She pushed it in just to the first knuckle or so, and then just as slowly began sliding it in and out. Miss Hellview was actually fingerfucking my little asshole!
I groaned softly at the throbbing feel of it, catching my breath and pushing my hips back at her slightly so that her finger probed into my tight anus even farther.
“Oh, God, Miss Hellview!” I moaned. “Your finger feels so good in my butt!”
At the same time, Ms. Dykstra finally took the hint and slid two of her fingers into my wet cunt from behind, pushing them deeply into me as she said, “Emily, we'll give you so much relief, you'll probably pass out.”
At which, Miss Hellview added, “But only if you really want us to, my dear.”
I gave them one more helpless little shrug.
“Well…I guess that'd be okay.”