One Week in the Private House (14 page)

'Can I watch?' Jem asked.

'Be my guest,' Dave said, 'but there's only one chair.'

'Oh dear. Guess I'll have to sit on your lap.'

Dave leant back and lifted his hands to stroke Jem's buttocks as she lowered herself on to him. She clasped his upright member between her thighs, placing one hand at the back of his neck and other other around the bulbous red helmet that protruded in front of her red-brown pubic curls. He unzipped her jacket and cupped her left breast in his long slim fingers. 'You're gorgeous, Jem,' he said, and lifted his face to meet her kiss.

For several minutes they were still, except for their constantly moving hands and tongues. Jem began to squirm as Dave's fingers roamed across her breasts, alternately caressing and pinching, sending tickles and stabs of pleasure through her body. At last Dave freed his lips from Jem's. 'Let's watch some TV,' he said, shaking his head. 'If we carry on like this ... Well, I have to be very careful not to get spunk on the console.'

Jem laughed. 'OK. Can we have the sound up?'

'Sure.'

Four of the video screens were in operation, showing four views of the same classroom. On the first screen Jem saw the whole room as if she were sitting in the back row of desks: half a dozen male pupils, wearing maroon caps and blazers, were seated at desks near the front of the class, facing away from the camera and towards the dais on which stood a table, a blackboard, and a schoolmistress.

The second screen gave a close-up view of the teachers' dais; and the other two displayed pictures that must have been generated by cameras positioned at the two sides of the room. The teacher was a young, dark-haired woman with luminous, wide browh eyes. She was wearing a mortarboard, a black gown, and white stockings and suspender belt. The pupils were middle-aged men, ridiculous in
short
trousers and too-tight blazers, with peaked caps perched on heads of greying hair.

They were not a well-behaved class. The teacher's big brown eyes filled with tears as the pupils ignored her ineffectual pleas for silence. Paper aeroplanes swooped past her head; howls and catcalls greeted her every word. Above the cacophony Jem heard shouted suggestions: 'Miss! Miss! Can you show us physical exercises again, Miss?' and 'Miss! I've hurt my willy, Miss! Come and kiss it better, Miss!'

Jem nuzzled Dave's neck as she felt his thumb exploring the valley between her buttocks. Those men ...' she said.

The schoolboys? They're crazy, aren't they?'

'But I know some of them. I mean, I've seen them, I know of them. That one there, the one who's got his prick out, he was on the cover of
Marketing
just a few weeks ago. He's a director of one of the High Street multiples. I can't remember his name ...'

'Don't worry about it. Everyone here is someone else outside. He seems to be enjoying himself. Even the guests who have to be persuaded to come here soon forget about the outside world. I'll bet you're different outside.'

'Wrong - Ah!' Jem vibrated inside as Dave's thumb penetrated her anus and his fingers slid into her sopping sex. 'Outside, I'm just like this,' she purred.

'Look,' Dave said, nodding towards the screens, 'the Head's turned up.'

A figure in a billowing black gown swept into the classroom. The Headmistress was as old as the pupils, but tall and slender. Her grey hair was pinned in a tight bun and her black corset gleamed; the microphones picked up the swish of her cane in the silence that fell as soon as she stormed through the door.

'Quiet!' she bellowed, unnecessarily. 'Class 4B! Have you taken leave of your senses? I will not tolerate this kind of behaviour!'

The pupils cowered as she scanned the classroom with a malevolent stare. The Headmistress turned to the teacher.

'Miss Howard,' she said through gritted teeth, 'how many times must I tell you to keep your class under control?'

The teacher tossed her head, pursed her lips, and looked down at the floor. She pulled her black gown forward to cover her body.

T will not stand for dumb insolence from my pupils,' the Headmistress hissed, 'and I do not expect so much as to encounter it in my staff. Stand straight, Miss Howard. Hands at your sides. And look at me when I'm speaking to you.' She brought the point of her cane to within a centimetre of the slightly upturned tip of the teacher's nose, and then lowered it slowly down the front of the teacher's body, using it to flick aside the teacher's gown and reveal her slender body, her high breasts, and her neat triangle of dark curls.

'Is this what you consider suitable attire for a professional educator?' the Headmistress said. 'Well?' The end of the cane traced a W beneath Miss Howard's breasts.

'No, Headmistress.'

The cane lifted the left breast, then the right. 'Miss Howard, you are a disgrace to the school. Come to my office at lunchtime. I can see you still need more practical instruction in the matter of discipline.'

The young schoolteacher blushed and hung her head, and the schoolboy who had exposed himself sniggered loudly. The Headmistress fixed him with a murderous glare.
⁴
You!' she barked. 'Yes, you, sonny. The one with exhibitionist tendencies. Stand up. What's your name, boy?'

'Smith, Miss,' said the grey-haired executive, managing a convincing impersonation of a snivelling urchin.

'You're a filthy little child, Smith. What are you?'

'A filthy little child, Miss,' he stammered, his apparent distress belied by the twitching of his engorged member.

'Do you know what happens to filthy little children, Smith?'

'They - they have to be punished, Miss,' Smith ventured, unable to keep a hopeful note out of his voice.

'Indeed they do, Smith. And you will be punished most severely. Come to the fr6nt of the class! Quickly, boy! And take down your shorts!'

Jem started giggling hysterically. Smith, if that was his real name, which Jem doubted, was a portly gent with a silver moustache, and he looked more than a little silly in his ill-fitting maroon school uniform with his trousers round his ankles, his penis wagging as if it had a life of its own, and his face red with excitement.

The Headmistress prodded him with her cane. 'Lift those shirt-tails, Smith. And bend over the table.'

Jem's gaze flicked from screen to screen. One gave her a close-up view of Smith's plump, white bottom, quivering with anticipation; another displayed him from the front, with his arms outstretched across the desk and the two schoolteachers standing behind him.

'The boy seems somewhat over-excited,' the Headmistress commented to Miss Howard in a voice that suggested that the younger teacher was to blame. 'Would you be so kind as to look at the state of his lewd parts.'

'Yes, Headmistress,' the young woman said, and removing her mortar board and gown, she ducked under the table. The screen which showed the entire classroom was now the only one on which Jem could see her: Miss Howard had become a small silhouette, squatting under the table and reaching out for Smith's rigid organ.

'Well?' the Headmistress demanded.

'It's still very hard, Headmistress,' said the meek voice from under the table. 'His testicles are hanging very loose, and his penis seems very big indeed. And it's hot. And it's sort of leaking a bit at the end.'

On another screen, Smith could be seen perspiring and open-mouthed with wordless delight.

'The disgusting wretch!' the Headmistress exclaimed. 'Clean him up, Miss Howard. I can't punish him in this condition/

'Shall I lick where he's leaking?' the small voice said.

'Yes, yes. Of course. Give him a good hard suck if you like. It might be for the best if he spends his filth in
your
mouth. It might calm him down.'

There were several minutes of silence. Jem could see the young teacher's head moving back and forth under the table and Smith's knuckles whitening as he grasped the table-edge in his growing excitement. From time to time the Headmistress would deliver a half-hearted stroke of the cane to his trembling buttocks, and then she would wander among the other pupils, lashing them at random with her tongue or with the thin wooden rod.

Just when it looked as though Smith was ready to explode, Miss Howard drew away from his engorged equipment and emerged from under the table. 'It's no good, Headmistress,' she said, 'he's being very obstinate. He just won't come.'

'I abhor obstinacy,' the Headmistress intoned. She put all her strength into a blow that landed across the backs of Smith's thighs. 'Keep still, boy! I'll teach you to be obstinate, you disgusting, perverted child! I'm going to thrash your bottom until you spurt your filthy stuff out of that horrible big thing of yours. What do you think of that?'

The question was rhetorical, but Jem could see from Smith's face that he was delighted at the prospect.

'Miss Howard,' the Headmistress said as she removed her gown and flexed the cane and her muscles, 'I think you had better hold him down. Quickly, girl - on the table!'

Miss Howard scrambled on to the table and sat with her stockinged legs dangling over the side. Then, with a surprising show of strength, she pulled Smith's head into her lap and pinioned his wrists behind his back, pushing his face into the mass of dark curls at the junction of her thighs. 'Ready, Miss Howard?' the Headmistress shouted. 'Then hold on tight; and here we go!'

Jem was astonished at the speed and severity of the punishment. She flinched more than Smith did as red lines appeared with remorseless regularity across the vast globes of his buttocks. The only sounds were the fearsome hiss of the cane, the bestial grunt that the Headmistress produced as she concentrated her strength into the final vicious flick of each stroke, and the loud thwack as the cane sliced into the fleshy mounds. When no tiny area of Smith's buttocks had escaped the cane, and purple weals were beginning to appear across the bright red expanses of flesh, the Headmistress stopped. She took a deep breath and rubbed the muscles of her arm. 'Miss Howard,' she said, 'would you look below and tell me whether this boy has disgraced himself yet?'

Miss Howard leant forward, crushing Smith's face still more deeply into her crotch. 'I'm sorry, Headmistress, I don't think anything's happened. His thing's still big and hard.'

The Headmistress appeared to be on the verge of apoplexy. 'Incorrigible wretch!' she yelled. 'Do you see, Miss Howard, how wilful and stubborn a little boy can be? Stand up, both of you. You, Miss Howard, are partly to blame for this. Spare the rod and spoil the child, Miss Howard. I have no doubt your own upbringing was too lenient. And as for you, Smith,' she grabbed his upthrust-ing organ and pulled him towards her, 'don't think I'll let things rest here. You're full of disobedience, boy, but I'll beat it out of you if it takes all day!'

Smith couldn't have looked happier, but he did his best to appear dejected. 'I can't come, Miss,' he mumbled, 'my bottom hurts too much.'

'You will come, my boy, you mark my words. And if you think your bottom's sore now, you've got another think coming. Miss Howard, I'll need your help again. Would you lie on the table - with your legs apart, you silly girl!'

With a resigned expression the young teacher stretched herself across the table. Smith, encouraged by the Headmistress's slaps, scrambled between Miss Howard's open legs, and the young teacher sighed and looked away as Smith lowered his paunch on to her body. She wriggled her hips, and closed her eyes as his prick found her opening and slid into her slick interior. She lifted her legs and crossed her ankles at the small of his back and the Headmistress, now with unobscured access to the whole of Smith's lower regions, flexed her cane and took up a position behind the coupled pair.

Smith remained motionless until the first blow fell; then he jerked his body and thrust into Miss Howard. As he pulled out of her, the Headmistress's arm was
descending
with her second stroke. Another line of fire
appeared
across the dull pink globes of flesh, and Smith thrust forward again.

Seen on the video screen, his face was distorted with pain and lust, the regular lashes producing barely a flicker of emotion across his face which was already as red as his arse and twisted into a rictus of frenzied glee. Jem was enthralled, her hand slowing almost to a standstill as she petted the gaping little mouth at the tip of Dave's thigh-held stalk. How much more of this can Smith take? she wondered, and at that moment he halted in mid-thrust, and his mouth opened as if in surprise.

This is it, Headmistress,' Miss Howard shouted. 'I think he's almost ready!' And the Headmistress redoubled her efforts, no longer paying any attention to maintaining the rhythm of her strokes nor to the tresses of hair escaping from her bun. She lashed fast and mercilessly, concentrating on the tops of his thighs and throwing in short vertical strokes that landed at random between his buttocks, on the insides of his thighs, or even across his swinging scrotal sac. Smith's frantic movements echoed the swishing of the cane as he pistoned in and out of Miss Howard with renewed vigour, and at last, with a wild howl of pain and blessed relief, and with a great shudder that shook his large frame and the table, he shot his spurts of seed into Miss Howard, and collapsed on top of her.

'Ow!' Jem's hand flew to her tweaked nipple. 'What was that for?'