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Message-ID: <34100asstr$1008547809@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Laura Davis" <ldavis4@hotmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Repost: The Gambler;The Party;The Schoolgirl;Turnabout
Date: Sun, 16 Dec 2001 19:10:09 -0500
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<1st attachment, "thegambler.txt" begin>

The Gambler by Laura Lynn Davis M/F F/F Torture Copyright 2001,
all rights reserved


	Three years ago I was a respected suburban housewife and mother.
 My husband, Matt, was an accountant and had a good job with one
of the larger local accounting firms.  My boys were seven and
five and with both of them in school I began to think about going
to work.  But Matt was against it and we argued about it for a
couple of weeks.  Finally, I gave in and agreed that I wouldn't
start job hunting.

	I celebrated my thirtieth birthday in October.  I had a lot of
free time and I was bored. One afternoon I stopped in at the
casino the Mohawks had build and did some gambling.  It was
exciting and I enjoyed myself even though I lost.  I kept losing.
 I borrowed money and lost that. One thing led to another and
finally I was deeply in debt to some hard people who wanted their
money back.  One morning, as I was heading into the casino I was
intercepted by a man called Bronk who worked for the people I'd
borrowed from.  Bronk took me to see his boss, Paul.

	Paul told me that I had a week to pay up or else.  Then he told
Bronk to give me a little sample of the 'or else'.  Bronk took me
into another room and said, "Take off your clothes."  I thought
he was going to rape me but he had me strip for a more practical
reason - being naked made me vulnerable and in case there was an
accident he didn't want to get blood on my clothes. Blood that
would have to be explained.  I was terrified and I stripped
without the slightest protest.

	I'm a tall, athletic blonde with a good, strong body and long
nice legs.  I'm attractive but not especially pretty.  I do have
nice, full breasts and a tightly rounded butt.  Bronk pushed me
up against the wall and kept me there while he administered a
beating that left me sobbing in agony. When he let me go I sank
to the floor and leaned against the wall.  He hadn't spilled a
drop of blood and he hadn't touched my face but my arms, ribs,
abdomen, and lower back were sore and throbbing with pain.

	He stood by the door and watched me until I'd recovered
somewhat.  "Get dressed and get going.  This is only a taste of
what you'll get if you don't pay what you owe."  I crawled over
to my clothes and sat down to get dressed.  It took close to
fifteen minutes before I was ready to leave.  I should have gone
to the police but I was scared.  I went home and after the kids
got off the school bus I walked them home and then I went to bed.
 I called Matt and told him I didn't feel well and he should pick
supper for himself and the kids.

	A week later, Bronk picked me up as I left the supermarket.  He
drove me out to an abandoned gas station where a woman was
waiting.  She was young, in her late twenties, and slender.  Her
eyes looked strange and I realized that she wasn't on the same
wavelength as the rest of us.  Bronk led me into the building and
told me to take my clothes off.  I stripped, crying already.

	Bronk held my wrists over my head with one hand.  The woman,
Angela, used a pair of needle nosed pliers on my nipples, labia,
and clit.  The beating Bronk had given me was a stroll in the
park compared to what Angela did.  I screamed and sobbed and
begged for mercy but Angela had none.  When she clamped the
pliers down on my left nipple I thought she was going to tear it
off.  I screamed my guts out as the pain shot through me.  But
she did surprisingly little damage. Physically, that is.  After
ten minutes of the most intense pain I'd ever experienced I would
have sold my mother to a pimp to make it stop!

	When Bronk released my wrists I collapsed in a heap on the
floor, sobbing and moaning. Angela crouched in front of me and
grabbed a handful of my hair.  She jerked my head up and hissed,
"Next week I start pulling your teeth."  I was so scared I wet
myself.  She released me and walked out.

	I looked up at Bronk and whispered, "Please, I don't have any
money.  Isn't there any other way I can pay you back?"

	He hesitated for a moment and then said, "I'll talk to Paul. 
You're a good looking woman."

	I got up onto my knees and said, "Please, talk to him.  I'll do
anything."  As I spoke, I reached out and unzipped his zipper. 
He stood there and didn't say a word as I freed his cock and took
it into my mouth.  I licked and sucked his cock and when he came
I kept it in my mouth and swallowed every drop.  When it was over
I begged him not to let Angela hurt me any more.

	He shrugged.  "Like I said, I'll talk to Paul.  Get dressed and
I'll drop you back at your car."  I struggled into my clothes and
huddled on the front seat of his car while he drove me back into
town.  He talked to Paul and I got a call the next day.  I fucked
three guys that day and earned $300.  All went to Paul to pay off
my debt.

	Angela pimped for me and provided security.  I fucked an average
of six or seven guys a day.  If I didn't perform well, or if my
appearance didn't meet Angela's standards, I was punished.
Usually with the pliers.  Angela owned a small bar over on the
north side.  One day, after I'd been whoring for a couple of
weeks, she told me to come to the bar that night at 8:00 p.m.  I
made some excuse, shopping I think, and left the house shortly
after 7:30.  I drove to the bar and Angela informed me that I'd
be dancing that night.

	I didn't do a strip tease.  She just made me strip in back and
go out and dance nude.  I danced for twenty minutes the first
time.  When I was done I went in back and Angela made me go down
on her.  I hated it and she punished me for not making her come.
I danced again an hour later.  I was shocked when I saw Matt
sitting at a table near the platform where I was dancing.  He got
up and left immediately.  Angela made me call the house an hour
later.  Matt informed me that there was no need for me to come
home, ever.

	I moved into a room upstairs from the bar.  I whored and danced
and serviced Angela with my tongue.  It took me nearly two years
to pay off my debt to Paul.  By then, Matt had been granted a
divorce and he and the kids had moved.  Angela 'inherited' me
from Paul.  It was too late for me to do anything else so I
continued working at the bar.

	I danced and whored and service Angela and saved every penny I
could get my hands on.  I planned to leave when I had enough
money but then, about six months ago, Angela was killed when her
car was sideswiped by a truck as she was driving back from a
meeting with Paul. Bronk came to the bar and told me to take it
over.  Then he fucked me while I leaned over Angela's, now my,
desk.  He lubricated himself in my cunt and I was amazed at the
size of his cock.  It wasn't all that long but it was thick, as
thick as my wrist, and when he eased out and said, "Reach back
and spread your ass," I panicked.  But I reached back and spread
myself. Thankfully, he eased his cock into my ass instead of
ramming it in.  It felt like I was being split in half with a
large soft wedge.  When his balls bounced against my ass I
breathed a sigh of relief. He reamed my ass with long, hard
strokes and I whimpered in pain each time his hips slammed
against me.  Finally, he shot his load deep in my rectum. If
there was any question in my mind who was in control it was ended
when he forced me to my knees and wiped his cock in my hair.  I
was Bronk's slut, no doubt about it.  He came by every day and
fucked me at least once, sometimes twice.

	A week later Bronk called and told me to meet him at the gas
station.  "Bring a pair of pliers."

	I got there a little ahead of him, as arranged, and was waiting
when he arrived with a pretty redheaded girl who couldn't have
been more than twenty-one or twenty-two.  She was obviously
terrified and obeyed instantly when Bronk told her to strip.  He
glanced at me.  "You, too, slut."  I stripped down immediately. 
He held her wrists in one hand and looked at me.  "Break her and
be quick about it!".  I shrugged and tortured her with the pliers
while she screamed and begged for mercy.  After fifteen minutes
or so Bronk nodded and said, "Enough."  He made us go down on
each other while he watched.  To ensure that we both knew who was
in charge.  I still hated eating pussy but it was better than a
quiet 'talk' with Bronk.

	A week later the redhead showed up at the bar.  "Bronk sent me."
 She was showing some attitude, no doubt because Bronk had made
us go down on each other, so I took her into the back, to my
office, and taught her who was in charge.  As I entered the
office I picked up the baseball bat that was leaning against the
wall and rammed it into her belly.   She sank to her knees,
gasping for breath.  I made her strip and then I kicked her in
the belly.  While she lay on the floor, crying, I kicked her a
half-dozen times, in the ribs and lower back.  She was a
respectful little whore after that.

	I had Angela's book and I began pimping her that same day.  Her
name was Megan and she was a hot little bitch.  I had her shave
and oil herself with baby oil before she went on stage that
night.  She's a good earner and, unlike me, she likes eating
pussy.  I keep her busy and I told Bronk the other day that I
could use two more like her.  He said he'd see what he could do.
I'm thinking that a girl-on-girl show would pack them in.

	Angela's name came up a few days later.  Bronk was warning me
about minding my own business after I'd asked an indiscreet
question about Paul.  "Remember what happened to Angela."

	"Why?  She died in a car accident."

	He shook his head and looked around.  After making sure there
was nobody close he took a picture out of his inside jacket
pocket.  It was a picture of Angela.   Her nude body was hanging
from a tree limb.  She'd been hanged, a slow hanging from the
looks of her.  I handed the picture back and no more was said.

	I've been a good whore since then.  I bend over and take my
daily fucking and dream of the day when I can get away.  I'm good
at fooling myself.

The End



<1st attachment end>


<2nd attachment, "theparty.txt" begin>

The Party by Laura Lynn Davis  F/machine Copyright 2001, all
rights reserved


Note:  This story is not really fiction.  It's based upon a party
I attended last weekend.  Names and descriptions have been
changed to protect the innocent and the not so innocent. <g>


	I attended a party last weekend with my SO.  One of her friends
had purchased a Sybian and she'd invited a dozen friends and
acquaintances over to try it out.  The woman, Jill, and my SO are
old friends from college.  My SO is thirty-one, three years older
than me.  A couple of the women brought their girlfriends with
them but only one was younger than me.

	The party started off like a regular party.  We milled around,
drinking and chatting and sampling a variety of snacks.  Jill,
divorced from a wealthy husband, is pretty well off but the rest
of us are just average working women.  One thing immediately
noticeable was that all of the women at the party were in fairly
good shape.  My SO and I fell in the middle of the group.  We run
and we work out but we're not fanatical about it.  A couple of
the women were really buff.  Not surprisingly, the two buff women
were a couple.

	The only person there younger than me was a cute redhead named
Gail.  She'd come with a woman named Harriet whom everyone called
Harry.  Harry's a lawyer, a tall woman with a brisk manner.  She
kept Gail close and always seemed to have a hand on her.  I don't
care for people that are that possessive but I masked my feelings
as best I could.  My SO knew how I felt and told me to be a good
girl or I'd feel her hand on my bare butt before the night was
over.  I grinned and whispered, "Promises, promises."

	Finally, when everyone was well lubricated (no pun intended) we
trooped into the family room where the Sybian waited.  It was
right in the middle of the room.  It looked like a barrel had
been sliced in half lengthwise.  The plastic phallus stuck up
from a black housing.  It was plain and flesh colored but no
effort had been made to make it look like a real penis.  I kind
of liked that.  The hostess passed a hat and we drew numbers.  I
drew #3.  My SO drew #13, so she'd be last.  The hostess asked us
all to remove our clothes and I definitely liked that!  Nodbody
seemed at all reluctant to undress.

	A young woman named Susan, the only married woman in the group,
had drawn #1. Susan's bi but her husband doesn't know.  He
through she was at a book signing.  Susan is a small women about
5 pounds shy of stocky  She straddled the device and lower
herself to her knees behind the phallus.  Our hostess, Joy,
crouched next to Susan and explained the controls. Then he gave
Susan a tube of KY.  Susan blushed as she lubricated herself and
the phallus.  Joy glanced around and explained that she'd detach
the phallus and wash it between uses.

	We all watched closely as Susan lifted herself up and then eased
herself down onto the phallus.  She closed her eyes and made a
soft whimpering sound as she sank onto the phallus. The Sybian
has two controls - one for speed and one that controls the
side-to-side rotation of the phallus.  Joy turned it on at its
lowest setting and the motor made a god-awful noise - like a
vacuum cleaner on steroids.  Susan's face showed surprise as what
is essentially a big vibrator went to work inside her.  Joy
passed the control box over and Susan cautiously increased the
speed.  She never did use the other control.  After a moment she
opened her eyes wide and smiled.  "Oh, God!  That's gooood."

	Gradually, her expression became fixed, her eyes distant.  Her
smile changed, became more like a grimace, but she continued to
moan and the action of the phallus was obviously pleasing for the
most part.  She grunted every few moments and when she did she'd
shift herself slightly, changing position.  I heard her
whispered, "Oh!  It's so intense!"   Her body began to shake and
it was obvious that she was near orgasm.  She turned the Sybian
up all the way and dropped the control box so she could cup her
tits and squeeze them.  Her brown nipples were hard, pointy
little nuggets.  She squeezed her tits hard enough to leave
bruises.  Then she came in a spasm of tremors, moaning and
grunting.  Finally, she whispered, "Turn it off!  Please turn it
off."

	Joy picked up the control box and switched it off.  Susan stayed
where she was for a moment and then she eased herself off.  She
walked unsteadily over to the sofa and sat down on the rug with
her back resting against the sofa.  One of the other women went
and sat with her. Susan leaned and put her head on the other
woman's shoulder.  She smiled and nodded when the other woman
asked a question but then she shook her head and said, "No, I
won't try it again."

	I glanced around while Joy was in the kitchen washing the
phallus.  Gail, the redhead, was #2 and she was talking with
Harry, looking a little scared.  I noticed that most of the women
were shaved; something that I've done for a couple of years but
it surprised me to see so many others shaved.  I do it because
herself, my SO, wants me bare.  I asked another woman later and
she said she does it for hygienic reasons.  I hadn't heard that
before but she seemed sincere.

	When Joy returned she mounted the clean phallus and Gail came
forward.  Joy asked if Gail would like to try the rectal
attachment.  Gail shook her head, "God, no!  I'm scared enough as
it is."  Everyone chuckled.  Gail was by far the most attractive
woman in the room and every eye was on her as she lubricated
herself and the phallus.  Her pert little tits bounced prettily
as she settled herself on it.  Her nipples were hard before Joy
turned the machine on.

	Gail let Joy control the machine and Joy advanced the speed knob
at regular intervals. Gail moaned with pleasure as the phallus
worked its magic.  Her eyes were closed and she was fondling her
tits when Joy turned the other control up.  The phallus began to
oscillate and Gail's eyes flew open.  "Oh shit!  Oh shit!  That
feels soooo fuckin' good!"  Harry crouched next to her and began
to fondle Gails tits, pinching and pulling her nipples.  Harry
said something in a low voice and Gail shook her head.  Harry
spoke again.  I couldn't hear the words over the roar of the
machine but she sounded insistent. Finally, Gail nodded and
glanced at Joy.  "I want it in my ass."  Joy turned the machine
off and changed the phallus to a smaller, slimmer version.

	Gail closed her eyes, blushing, as she lubricated the new
phallus.  Then she spread her buttocks while Harry lubricated her
anus.  When Gail eased herself down onto it I thought I'd have an
orgasm just from watching!  Joy turned the Sybian on at its
lowest setting.  Gail's expression changed to one of pure ecstasy
as the phallus vibrated inside her tight little bottom.  She
rubbed her clit with one hand while balancing herself with the
other.  Harry played with her tits.  After just a couple of
minutes Gail screamed, "Yes," and collapsed against Harry,
sobbing.  Later she said the sensation was so intense she thought
she was going to die.  "A heart attack - I was sure of it."

	Then it was my turn.  I wanted to pass but I didn't want to seem
like a wuss in front of everyone.  So I lubricated myself and
climbed on.  Since I'm small and fairly tight the phallus filled
me nicely.  I nodded and Joy turned it on.  It was like riding a
vibrator attached to a cement mixer. The sound was so loud it was
disorienting, at least to me.  I can't stand the sound of a
vacuum cleaner and have to leave the room when herself vacuums.

	But the sensation was very pleasurable.  It was like being
fucked by Hercules or Superman.  It just hummed along and before
long I was coming - once, then again, and yet again. But the
pleasure quickly turned to pain and I screamed, "OFF!  Turn it
off!"

	I went and sat with Susan after a trip to the bathroom to wash
myself.  I stayed nude since that seemed to be the etiquette. 
Susan and I talked while the others took their turns.  I didn't
watch and Susan only glanced occasionally.  Later that night, on
the way home, herself asked me if I'd ride it again.  I shook my
head.  "I'd rather be whipped."  And that was that.


The End





<2nd attachment end>


<3rd attachment, "theschoolgirl.txt" begin>

The School Girl by Laura Lynn Davis F/F Copyright 2001, all
rights reserved


Authors Note.

	I attended public schools all the way through high school and
went to a state university. My SO, on the other hand, went to
Catholic schools all the way from kindergarten through college. 
Her first experience with a non-Catholic school was when she went
to grad school. Since meeting her I've become intrigued by the
fascination that people, mostly men, have with Catholic
schoolgirls.  As a group, they're not any prettier that girls who
go to public school, but I think that the uniforms - skirts and
knee socks, bare thighs, etc. - make them more attractive to the
beholder.

	My SO maintains that Catholic schoolgirls are no different from
their public school counterparts - not more sexually repressed,
no hornier, no wilder after graduation.  But, since she's horny
most of the time I don't know if she's a good judge.  She does
maintain that things might have been different in the old days
when the schools were actually run by nuns.

	Recently, we stopped in at the high school she attended when we
were in Maryland visiting her mother.  I went with her when she
went in to talk to some of her old teachers.  She was kind of
disappointed to find only a couple were still there twelve years
later.  It was a Friday afternoon and classes had just ended when
we arrived.  There were a lot of girls in the halls and I was
fascinated by how cute they looked in their uniforms.  They don't
wear blazers anymore but the rest of the uniform is the same. 
Saddle shoes were rare, most girls were wearing loafers.

	But the skirts were uniformly short and most of the girls seemed
to have pretty legs.  One girl in particular caught my eye.  She
was tall, over 5' 10", blonde and willowy.  Her complexion was
pale and perfect and she had long, coltish legs. Her thighs were
perfect and even her knees were pretty.  But what really caught
my eye was her pale blonde hair.  It was cut in a Dutch-boy cut
that I've always associated with Joan of Arc, a virginal look. 
She walked past with a smile on her face, her stride long and
athletic, and disappeared around a corner.  She's fueled many a
fantasy since then.  That night, at her mother's house, my SO
stuffed a sock in my mouth and spanked me for ogling the pretty
blonde.  I took my punishment and was properly contrite when I
promised not to do it again.  But she can't monitor my thoughts.
<g>

So here's my story based upon that incident.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
++++

	It was the 22nd of August, the first day that legal practices
with coaches present could be held.  The first day of school was
a week away and I was attending my first practice since being
hired as the soccer coach at Cathedral West, the Catholic high
school for girls.  My name is Allison Hunter and I played my
college soccer at a small Division III school out in the
hinterlands. I've always wanted to coach and when a friend told
me that the varsity coach job was open at Cathederal West I
applied for the job.

	Not being a teacher was something that I thought might hinder me
but, as it turned out, it was a help.  The parents had been
complaining about teacher-coaches that didn't really know the
game.  So I was hired with the caveat that I successfully pass
the test for state certification.  I passed without a great deal
of difficulty and the job was mine.

	Now, on a brutally hot and humid afternoon, I was trying to work
with my JV coach to sort out the 65 girls that had come to try
out for the team.  We had room for 20 players on each roster so
25 girls were going to be disappointed at the end of the week
when I made my rosters public. I was hoping that the heat and
humidity would weed out some of the less committed players.

	I was standing with my back toward the school buildings, going
over a couple of things with Jim, the JV coach, when I heard a
soft voice say, "Sorry I'm late.  Do I have to sign in?"

	I turned and caught my breath.  The speaker was a tall, willowy
girl with silver-blonde hair that contrasted beautiful with her
golden tan.  She was tall for a soccer player, 5' 10", and very
pretty.  I threw Jim a quick glance.  He smiled.  "Coach Hunter,
this is Emma Watkins.  Emma, this is Coach Hunter."  He glanced
at me, smiling.  "Emma was our goalie last year.  She's a
junior."

	We shook hands and I said, "Call me Allison, I'm not ateacher."

	She smiled, "Okay, coach."

	Jim was writing her name down on his list.  "Okay, Emma.  You're
official.  Go ahead and join the others."

	As I watched her trot away I realized I'd been wrong.  She
wasn't pretty.  She was stunningly, achingly, heartbreakingly
beautiful.  And I was in love.  What the French call "Coupe de
Ploudre", the thunderclap.  Love at first sight, totally
illogical but everlasting.  I sighed.  I was in deep trouble.  I
hadn't volunteered my sexual orientation when I'd interviewed for
the job.  It hadn't seemed relevant.  I was twenty-four years
old.  I wasn't going to fool around with schoolgirls.  The phrase
"famous last words" flitted though my mind.

	I was small and slim like most soccer players.  I stood 5' 5"
and weighed 116 pounds - brown hair, brown eyes, and a pale
complexion now deeply tanned.  I'm boyishly pretty and but I also
have a pretty boyish figure.  But, while I don't have much up
top, I do have a nice tight little butt and slim, pretty legs.  I
knew Jim was interested and had been trying to figure out how to
discourage him without revealing my sexual orientation.  Emma had
just complicated the situation enormously!

	As the week progressed some of the kids dropped out and I worked
the others pretty hard.  By the end of the week we were down to
45 girls.  I'd have to cut five kids and it was the hardest thing
I'd ever done.  Now I knew what my coaches had gone through. 
After school began we had less than two weeks before our first
game so we practiced every day except Sunday. The season was just
18 games and would be over by the end of October.  If we made the
state tournament we'd play well into November.

	I concentrated on the varsity squad with a couple of volunteer
assistant coaches, conferring occasionally with Jim and more
often with the school's AD, a woman named Karen.  I worked the
kids as hard as I could, trying to keep in mind that they weren't
college kids on scholarship.  Them you could work like stevedores
as my old college coach had often demonstrated but high school
kids were different.  Some were dedicated to the game, looking
for a college scholarship, and some were just there because their
parents made them play a sport.

	Emma was a big help.  She loved soccer with a passion that
bordered on fanaticism and she pushed the other girls
mercilessly.  Her nickname was 'Atilla the Goalie'.  A couple of
kids resented her but most respected her for her dedication and
zeal.  It wasn't until a couple of days before our first game
that I realized she'd been pushing me as hard as any of the kids
on the team.  She was just subtler about it.

	The day before our first game I got a call at work from Karen,
the AD at Cathedral West and she was mad.  "You have a problem. 
Two girls quit the team today and their parents are complaining
about Emma pushing them too hard.  Who's running the team, you or
Emma?"

	I took a deep breath and counted to five before answering.  "I
am, of course.  But Emma pushes herself to achieve and she pushes
everyone along with her.  Including me.  Who quit?" Karen gave me
the names and I knew both of them.  They were slackers, kids
whose parents forced to do a sport every season.  Neither of them
liked or had the talent for soccer.  I calmed Karen down and
promised to speak to Emma.

	"You'd better.  I'll have her here in my office at 2:45.  I'll
be out so you can meet with her here."  She hung up before I had
a chance to say another word.

	So I took an hour off from work and arrived at the school just
after 2:30.  Emma was waiting in Karen's office when I walked in.
 "Hi, coach.  What's up?"

	I sat down behind Karen's desk and glared at Emma.  Or did my
best imitation of a glare. She didn't seem to notice.  Her
uniform skirt was exceptionally short and she was showing a lot
of sleek, tanned thigh.  I noticed a small scar, about an inch
long, on the inside of her left leg, just above her knee.  It
stood out white against her tan or I would have never seen it. 
So she wasn't perfect.  I gave up trying to stare her down. 
"Tanya and Karinna quit the team today.  They told their parents
that you were driving them to hard.  Mrs. Harding reamed me out
about who's running the team.  I want you to lighten up and I
want you to remember that I'm running this team, not you. 
Understand?"

	She grinned, "Sure coach.  Whatever you say."

	I shook my head.  "Damn it, Emma.  At least you could look
sheepish when I'm yelling at you."

	She hung her head in mock remorse.  "Yes, coach.  Are you going
to beat me now or later?"

	I had to laugh.  "Go get changed for practice."

	She stood up walked to the door.  Then she stopped and turned to
face me, leaning back against the door.  "How long have you been
in love with me?"  Then, before I could answer, she turned and
slipped out the door.

	I was deliberately hard on her in practice that day.  Normally,
I don't yell at the girls because it doesn't help.  Girls don't
respond like boys do, especially high school girls.  But I yelled
at Emma that afternoon.  Partly to show the team that I was in
charge and partly because I was frustrated and scared.  Mostly
scared.  I'd been in a relationship but it had ended at the
beginning of the summer when she'd gone to the  Bahamas to work
at a resort.

	I worked their butts off until 5:30 and then let them go.  Many
of their parents were waiting to pick them up.  Some, not many,
had their own cars and Emma was one of them.  She'd turned
sixteen in July and her father had given her a fairly new Toyota
Camry for her birthday.  I was still driving an old, beat up
Subaru that had close to 95,000 miles on it.  By the time I put
everything away and talked with Jim the parking lot was mostly
empty.  I got into my car and headed home.

	As I turned onto Elm Street I noticed Emma's car parked in the
church parking lot across the street.  I turned in and pulled
into the space next to her car.  She was nowhere in sight so I
just sat and waited.  A few minutes later she came out of the
church and I caught my breath as I watched her walk toward me. 
Her golden skin gleamed in the light of the setting sun and I
could see the pale silvery peach fuzz on her thighs.  I wanted to
start my car and take off and never stop but  I sat there and
waited for her.

	She smiled as she came up to my window.  "Hi, coach.  Checking
up on me?"

	I shook my head.  "No, I just saw your car here and wondered if
there was something wrong."

	"I decided to stop and say a prayer for my soul."

	I didn't really know what to say to that.  "Why, have you done
something wrong?"

  	She nodded.  "I've committed a mortal sin.  I'm an abomination
in the eyes of the church."

	I'm not Catholic but I kind of knew what she was getting at. 
"Not you.  You're only sixteen for God's sake!"

	Her lips twitched.  "Don't swear."  She paused and glanced
around.  "It's true.  I've fallen in love with another woman and
that makes me a sinner and an abomination in the eyes of the
Lord."

	I was out of the car in a flash.  I grabbed her shoulders and
shook her.  "Stop talking nonsense!  You're a sweet girl and
you've done nothing wrong.  Nothing!  Do you hear me?"

	She freed herself from my grip and took a step closer.  Before I
realized what she was going to do her arms were around my and her
lips were pressed against mine.  The kiss was fleeting but it
left me shaken.  "Oh, shit!  Now you've done it.  Why'd you do
that?"

	She shrugged.  "I'm going to hell anyway so it seemed like the
thing to do.   Didn't you enjoy it?"

	I turned and got into my car.  "I won't lie and say no.  But
you've got a lot to learn about kissing."  I started my car and
drove away.  I knew if anyone had seen us I'd be out of a
coaching job within an hour.  But apparently nobody did because
my phone was silent all night.  Nothing I've said or done since
that day has changed Emma's unshakable conviction that she's
going to go straight to hell when she dies.  But, after a couple
of bad days, she apparently decided that she might as well get on
with her life and worry about going to hell at a later time.

	Emma didn't let her feelings interfere with her game.  We won
our first game 1-0 only because she stopped 22 shots on goal. 
She was all over the place, a madwoman who treated each shot like
a personal insult.  We needed to work on our defense but with
Emma in goal we were in good shape while we tinkered with the
lineup and worked on some defensive sets.

	The day after the game was Saturday.  We practiced in the
morning from 9 to 11 and then I went home.  I was living in a an
apartment complex about a mile from the school.  I was just
coming out of the shower when the doorbell rang.  I slipped into
a robe and went to see who was at the door.  It was Emma.  I
wasn't going to answer but my resolve lasted for only a moment. 
I opened the door and invited her in.  She was still perspiring
heavily.  "What's up?"

	She stood there staring at the floor.  "I don't know what to
do."

	"About what?"  Like I didn't know.

	'You.  Me.  The church."  She began to cry, silently, the tears
sliding down her cheeks in a steady stream.  "I'm a rotten
person."

	I lost my temper and grabbed the front of her t-shirt.  "You
listen to me, Emma Watkins. You're a beautiful, wonderful, sweet
girl and you're not going to go to hell!  You're the nicest
person I ever met and I love you."  Then I threw her out, telling
her to go home and take a long, cold shower.  I went into the
bedroom and spent some time with Mr. Happy.  He was quite peppy
after I fed him with a new set of batteries.  After three
orgasms, I rolled over and  took a nap.

	Emma's mother was at every game.  She was a surprisingly young
woman, not yet forty, and she and Emma couldn't be mistaken for
anything but mother and daughter.  I was surprised and a little
scared when Mrs. Watkins came over to me after our third game and
asked if she could talk to me in private.  I nodded and said,
"Sure.  I need about thirty minutes and then we could meet
somewhere.  Maybe Starbucks?"

	She smiled and nodded.  "See you at 5:30 then."  I wondered if
she was going to show up with a cop in tow.  I hadn't done
anything but I was still scared.

	I was still scared when I walked into Starbucks and sat down at
a table with Mrs. Watkins but I was stunned when she said,
"Emma's in love with you."  I sat there staring at her, unable to
think of a single thing to say.  She smiled.  "Don't look so
astonished.  She told me what happened the other Saturday.  Thing
is, Emma's a stubborn girl with a one-track mind and she usually
gets what she wants."  She paused and sipped her coffee.  "And
what she wants is you. What I want to know is how you feel about
her.  Are you even gay?"  She watched me carefully, sipping her
coffee while she waited for me to answer.

	I decided the complete truth was the only thing that could save
me.  "Yes, I'm gay.  And I'm in love with Emma.  I have been
since the moment I first saw her."

	She nodded.  "I thought it was something like that.  Now, here's
what I have to say.  Until the soccer season is over you are her
coach and she's part of your team.  Nothing more, nothing less. 
When the season's over you can resign or not, your choice.  If
you don't resign then you stay away from Emma.  If you do, then I
have no objections to the two of you dating.  But NO sex until
the girl is eighteen.  Understand?"

	I nodded meekly.  "Yes, ma'am.  Anything you say."

	She sipped her coffee and grinned.  "Damn right."

	We sit and chat for a while and she asks a lot of questions
which I answer fully, even if the answer is embarrassing.  She is
surprised to learn that I'm an orphan and she insists that I join
them for Sunday dinner.  I ask about how Mr. Watkins feels about
things.  She grins.  "Mr. Watkins is in California and nobody
around her cares about what he thinks.  See you for dinner on
Sunday.  We eat at 1:00 p.m. on the dot.  Be on time."

	Again, I nod meekly.  "Yes, ma'am."

	Sunday dinner is a pleasant experience.  Mrs. Watkins turns out
to be a good cook and the meal is wonderful.  It's agony being
that close to Emma for so long without being able to even kiss
her.  But I enjoy myself anyway.

	Soccer season seems to crawl by.  We finish the season with only
one loss, by a score of 1-0 to the top-ranked team in the state.
In the state tournament we advance to the semi-finals before
losing 1-0 to the same team again.  Two days after our loss I
resign as soccer coach.  The following Friday night I take Emma
to the movies.  She is very aggressive, sexually, and I have to
remind her of her mother's edict.

	Emma chuckles when I remind her that her mother made me promise
that there'd be no sex until she was eighteen.  "What if we don't
last that long?"

	I shrug.  "A promise is a  promise."

	I hear her sigh and mutter something under her breath.  When I
ask what she said she sticks her tongue out at me and says, "I
said that I don't believe you."

	"What don't you believe?  I made a promise to your mother and I
plan to keep it."

	She grins.  "Good luck."

	Later that night, when I finally get home, Mr. Happy got a good
workout.  Things continued along those same lines for the rest of
the winter.  Emma had occasional days where she was all gloomy
and weepy and talked about burning in hell for eternity.  Her
mother assured me that it was just a case of Catholic guilt, a
little more dramatic than usual but nothing to worry about.

	For Christmas I gave Emma a long silver chain that the jeweler
said was a Mexican bridal chain.  She gave me a pair of gold
earrings.  Later, after dinner, we helped her mother with the
dishes.  It was all very domestic.  Then her mother stunned me by
saying, "I'm going to Vegas with my boyfriend for New Year's. 
Now that she has you to watch out for her I don't mind leaving
Emma."

	I stared at her in shock and then blurted, "Who's going to
protect me from her?"  Emma was, of course, outraged or she
pretended to be, and she chased me into the living room and
tickled me until I was begging for mercy.  Later, as we cuddled
on the sofa, she asked if she could borrow $100.  "Of course, but
what do you need it for?"

	She nibbled my earlobe for a moment and then whispered, "I bet
mom a hundred dollars that I'd seduce you by New Year's and it
looks like I'm going to lose."

	She did lose.  But she did prevent me from keeping my promise. 
We became lovers the following summer but that's another story.

The End






<3rd attachment end>


<4th attachment, "turnabout.txt" begin>

Turnabout by Laura Lynn Davis.  A work of fiction copyright 2001.
F/F Bnd

	I was working late one night, trying to install some new
software on my laptop, when I ran into problems.  There wasn't
anyone around who could help me so I packed up and headed home. 
Arthur was away on a fishing trip, not that he'd be any help, but
it would have been nice to have his shoulder to cry on.  But
things hadn't been going well and his presence might not have
helped.

	When I got home I remember that Julie, our neighbor's daughter,
was home from college for the summer.  She'd just finished her
freshman year at one of the better schools in Massachusetts and
she's a whiz with computers.  I changed into shorts and sports
bra and glanced at the clock.  Just after 8:00 p.m., not to late
to call.  Julie readily agreed to come over and take a look.

	When she arrived I greeted her with a smile and a hug.  Julie is
a small, slender blonde with a sunny disposition.  People are
always surprised that such a pretty girl is, basically, a
computer nerd.  I know I was when we first met.  She was wearing
a little cropped tank top, cotton drawstring shorts, and sandals.
 When I opened the door she grinned and said, "Hi, Laura.  Broke
it again, huh?"

	I shrugged.  "You know me and computers.  We don't get along,
probably never will."  She assured me that she could fix whatever
damage I'd done.  I brought out my bag and she set the laptop up
on the coffee table in the living room.  I settled down on the
sofa and watched her work.  School had changed her - she was more
mature and her long blonde hair was now close-cropped, making her
look like a tomboy.  A cute tomboy.

	After a couple of minutes she glanced at me and smiled.  "I've
found the problem but I can't fix it.  At least not right now."

	"What's wrong?  Why can't you fix it?"  I was beginning to
panic, I needed it running so I could finish and important
report.

	She shrugged.  "Well, the real problem is you.  You've got too
much on.  If you were naked I could fix it in about five
minutes."

	I stared at her in shocked silence for several moments.  Then I
felt a jolt of excitement.  "You're not serious, are you?"

	She got up, walked around the coffee table, and sat down on the
floor in front of the sofa.  She lifted my right foot into her
lap and began to rub it.  "You have great legs!"  She paused and
smiled.  "Do you remember when you were driving me to school?"  I
nodded and she continued, "Do you remember how short my uniform
skirts were where I was a sophomore?"  I nodded again and she
smiled.  "Well, it was all for you.  I hoped every day that you'd
reach over and put your hand on my knee and then ......"

	I laughed, a little nervously, and said, "I thought the same
thing about you back then - that you had great legs, I mean."

	She grinned.  "So, you didn't want to do it with me back then?"

	I blushed.  "God, no!  I don't know if I want to *do it* with
you now.  But I did used to bet with myself about what color
panties you'd be wearing."

	It was her turn to blush.  "I guess I *was* pretty shameless.  I
remember that you came to some of my soccer games.  I always
played better when you were there."  She continued to rub my foot
in silence for a few seconds.  "Now, do you want me to fix your
laptop?"

	I nodded.  "Of course.  Are you going to blackmail me into
taking my clothes off?"

	She grinned.  "Of course."

	She got up and went back around the coffee table and sat down. 
I sighed and unsnapped my bra.  She watched, silently, as I
stripped my shorts and panties off.  Then she patted the floor
beside her.  "Come here and sit next to me."

	I walked around the table and sat down next to her.  I was
scared and excited.  Other women saw me nude at the health club
all the time but this was a totally different situation.  I sat
beside her, cross-legged, my knee touching hers, while she worked
her magic.  When she rebooted the system I held my breath.  She
put her hand on my shoulder.  "Cross your fingers, Laura."  As
she spoke her hand casually moved across to my neck.  She
squeezed gently and then began to rub my neck absentmindedly.  I
felt a jolt of excitement shoot through my body.  Nothing turns
me on more, or quicker, than having my neck rubbed.

	I moaned and my head drooped forward a little.  Julie giggled. 
"You like this, hmmm?"

	"Oh, God yes!  It feels so good."  My voice was barely a whisper
but she heard me.

	"I learned a lot this year."  She continued to rub my neck.  "I
learned that I have to go after what I want.  I also learned that
I love dominating another woman.  My roommate was a cute, shy
little bitch from Long Island.  I used to keep her on her knees
for hours. She had a very strong tongue.  And she cried so nicely
when I spanked her."

	She paused and glanced at me.  "Are you going to cry when I
spank you?"

	I dropped my eyes and whispered, "I don't know.  I've never been
spanked."

	"Look at me."  When I turned to look at her she slapped me. 
"The proper way to address me is Mistress.  Or Ms. Harmon.  Do
you understand?"

	I stared at her in silence for several seconds, my cheek
stinging from the slap.  Then I dropped my eyes and whispered,
"Yes, Mistress. I understand."

	"When is Arthur coming back?"

	I thought about it for a moment.  It was Tuesday.  I expected
him back Sunday.  When I told her she smiled.  "Good, then I can
put some welts on your butt and they'll be gone by the time he
gets home."

	Welts?  I shivered and she chuckled.  "We're going to havefun!"

	The laptop finished booting and everything was fine.  I
mentioned that I had a report to finish and she said, "Fine, go
ahead and work on it.  Just don't get dressed."  I went and got
the power supply and plugged it in.  Then I began working on my
report.  Julie went into the kitchen and made a pot of coffee.  I
worked steadily for more than an hour, conscious every minute of
the fact that I was nude and Julie was watching.

	When I finished she told me she wanted me on my knees in front
of the sofa.  When I was positioned to her liking - back
straight, ankles crossed, knees spread, hands clasped on top of
my head - she fondled my small, firm tits.  I sighed as she
teased my nipples erect with her thumbs.  Then, squeezing my tits
gently, she asked what I wanted first.  "Do you want to be
spanked or do you want to eat pussy?"

	I sighed.  Some choice!  "Please, I'd rather be spanked first,
mistress."

	She released my tits.  "Good choice.  Go and get one of Arthur's
belts."

	I got up and walked out of the room.  As I crossed the bedroom I
glanced into the mirror and saw my tits bouncing gently with each
step.  I had to admit that I looked pretty good nude.  I run
every day and work out regularly so my body is tight and firm.  I
brought the belt back and she took me across her lap and spanked
me.  But she just used her hand.  I guess sending me for the belt
was a test to see if I'd obey.  She did a good enough job with
her hand, believe me!  My butt was red and sore when she finally
listened to my pleas for mercy. She rubbed my back gently while I
lay across her lap sobbing.

	I was still crying when she slipped her hand between my legs and
ran the tip of her finger down my wet slit.  I wiggled and
whispered, "Oh, GOD!"

	She chuckled.  "Want me to stop?"

	I shook my head frantically.  "No!  I mean, please no,
mistress."

	She slapped my butt.  "Nice recovery, slave."

	I crossed my arms on the sofa cushion and rested my head on
them, staring blindly at the pattern in the upholstery while she
masturbated me to orgasm.  It was nice, not the best I'd ever
experienced, but nice.  Then she patted my back and said, "Get
down on your knees."

	I slipped off her lap and got down on my knees.  She got up and
began to undress.  I watched, admiring her body was it was
revealed to me. Her tits are bigger than mine, a good, full c-cup
and nicely shaped. Her belly is flat, her butt high and tight,
and she has long, sleek thighs.  I was surprised by her complete
lack of pubic hair.  Her vulva was as bare as young girl's.  She
grinned when I mentioned it and said, "Laser treatments. 
Expensive but worth every penny." Her left nipple was pierced and
fitted with a delicate gold ring.  She also had a ring through
her clit hood, a smaller one made of stainless steel.

	She sat down and eased forward, spreading her legs, making
herself completely accessible.  I put my hands on her thighs,
marveling at how soft and smooth her skin was.  I rubbed her
thighs for a moment, stalling, and then bent and planted a kiss
on her right knee, then her left knee.  I worked my way up her
soft, inner thighs, kissing and licking her velvet skin.  By the
time I worked my way close to her pussy she was wet and ready.  I
inhaled the scent of an aroused woman for the first time in my
life and found that I liked it.  Liked it a lot!

	I ran my tongue up her slit, enjoying her moan of pleasure.  I
teased her with my tongue, enjoying the power it gave me.  I
pushed my tongue into her wet cunt and lapped her pussy juice
like a kitten laps milk from a saucer.  It was my first time
performing cunnilingus so I probably wasn't very good but I was
able to bring her to orgasm in about five minutes.  When she came
I sat back on my heels and stared at her cunt.  I'd never
examined myself closely so I was fascinated by hers.  It was all
shades of pink from very light pink, to darker pink/beige on her
inner labia, to deep red inside her vagina.  It was, I realized,
a very pretty cunt.  Her anus was little beige rosette,
contrasting nicely with the pale, perfect skin surrounding it.

	I glanced up at her and saw her staring back with a lazy smile
on her face, her eyes heavy and hooded.  Impulsively I reached
out and touched her anus with the tip of my finger, just grazing
it with my fingernail.  She whimpered and it was obvious that she
enjoyed being touched there.  I did it again.  Her eyes closed as
she whimpered again.  A stray thought crossed my mind, how had
she learned so much in barely ten months away from home?  I
continued to stimulate her anus while I thought about it.  Hadn't
her mother mentioned something about a mix up in room
assignments?  I leaned close and touched her anus with the tip of
my tongue.  I wondered how she'd react if I used my vibrator
there.  Then I remembered.  Her mother had been worried because
Julie had been put in a room with an older girl, a junior.

	I reached up and slipped my little finger though her nipple
ring.  I gave it a little tug and her eyes flew open.  "Owww! 
What the hell are you doing?"

	I smiled.  "I'm turning the tables on a lying slut.  Who spent
hours on her knees?  Hmmm?"  Her anger turned to shock.  I tugged
on the ring again.  "Answer me, slut."

	She winced and whispered, "Me, it was me!"

	I grinned.  "So, you're not dominant.  You're a fake.  A
submissive slut who tried to put one over on me."

	She nodded.  "Yes."

	I tugged on the ring.  "Yes, what?"

	Her eyes widened.  "Yes, mistress."

	"That's better.  Suddenly I like this game a whole lot more. 
It's definitely nicer on the D side of D/s.  Wouldn't you say?"

	She nodded.  "Yes, mistress."

	I stood up and tugged on the ring.  She got to her feet and I
slapped her hard.  Once, twice, three times.  She took it without
resistance. "Where are your parents?"

	She had tears streaming down her cheeks.  "At the Cape.  They
went up for the week.  They just opened the cottage for the
season."

	I grinned.  "How nice!  Then there's nobody home to notice the
welts I'm going to put on your cute ass."  She stared at me in
silence while I decided what to do.  "Go call your parents.  Tell
them you're going to stay with me because Arthur's away too. 
Then get your ass back in here so I can whip it."

	She scampered into the kitchen, her full tits bouncing nicely as
she ran.  I followed and leaned against the wall, stroking her
fine little butt while she talked to her mother.  After a couple
of minutes she held the phone out.  "Mom wants to talk to you."

	I took the phone and said, "Hi, Kate."

	"Hi, Laura.  I wanted to make sure it's okay if Julie stays with
you. I don't want her to impose."

	I tweaked Julie's nipples.  "She's not imposing.  It'll be fun
having her here."

	I heard a chuckle.  "Fun?  Okay, if you say so.  But if she gets
out of line you have my permission to turn her over your knee and
paddle her."

	I laughed.  "I won't hesitate a bit."  We continued chatting for
a few minutes.  When I hung up I grinned and said, "Your mom told
me not to hesitate to paddle your butt if you get out of line. 
Imagine that!"

	She smiled weakly and moaned when I pinched her pert, pink
nipples. I stepped close and kissed her on the tip of her nose. 
"Be good. You're *my* slave now.  My bitch.  My slut.  My cute
little fuck slut."  I slapped her again, enjoying her whimper of
pain.  "Down on your knees, whore."

	She dropped to her knees and gazed up at me with tears in her
eyes. "I'm not a whore!"

	"Defiance?  Your ass will pay for that!"  I slapped her again.
"You'll whore if I decide that's what I want.  I'll put your cute
little butt out on Jefferson Avenue and you'll peddle it to
anyone who can pay the price.  What do you say to that?"

	She lowered her eyes and blubbered, "Please, don't make me
prostitute myself.  Please!"

	I felt a surge of power that unleashed the cruel streak deep
inside me.  "Get up and get your ass home and change.  I want you
back here in something suitable for a street whore.  You have ten
minutes."

	She got up and ran into the living room.  Within a minute she
was dressed and out the door.  I put my clothes on and waited.  I
was pretty sure I wouldn't see her again that night.  But in ten
minutes she was back at the front door.  She was wearing an
impossible short mini skirt, black leather, with a matching vest
and a pair of strappy sandals with 3" heels.  The sandals made
her slim, coltish legs look longer.  She wore nothing under the
vest, which was fastened in the front with a rawhide thong.   The
gap made it clear that she was braless.   I smiled as I stepped
back to let her inside.  "Are you wearing anything under your
skirt?"

	She shook her head.  "No, mistress."  She licked her lips
nervously. "Are you really going to make me sell myself?"

	I chuckled.  "I should.  You brought this all on yourself,
didn't you?"

	She nodded.  "Yes, mistress."

	"Let's go for a ride.  I'll decide later if I want you to whore
for me."  She followed me out to the car in silence.  As we
pulled out of the driveway I saw tears on her cheeks.  "Are you
regretting what you've gotten yourself into?"

	She shook her head.  "No, mistress.  I *want* to be a slave. 
I've wanted it since I was twelve or thirteen."  She lapsed into
silence for several minutes before continuing.  "When I got to
school last fall and met Robin I was very unhappy.  But then one
night I came back from a party drunk.  She hauled my ass down to
the bathroom, stripped me naked, and pushed me under a cold
shower.  I cursed and fought until she slapped me and told me to
behave myself.  After five minutes or so she pulled me out, dried
me off, and took me back to the room. Then she spanked me until I
was sobbing like a baby.  Nobody heard over the blast of music
coming from nearly every room."

	She paused and blew her nose.  "Then she took me to bed and
drove me crazy with her fingers and her tongue.  But what I liked
most was the fact that she cared about me.  Nobody ever has, not
really.  Mom and dad say they do but they don't.  Not really.  I
started drinking when I was thirteen and they never noticed. 
Robin stopped it cold.  If I even looked at glass of beer she
beat my ass until I was black-and-blue.  But that's over now."

	I put my hand on her knee and squeezed gently.  "Why?"

	She began to blubber again.  "She's dead!  She was killed when
her car slid off the road during an ice storm."

	I patted her knee.  "You poor............."

	She cut me off, her anger flaring like a brush fire.  "Don't
sympathize with me!  I don't need sympathy.  I need someone to
care about me.  Someone to tell me what to do.  Someone strong."
She turned toward me with an anguished look on her face.  "I
don't know what to do!  I never have.  Mom used to tell me but
then she went to work when I went into  high school.  So, no
sympathy.  Please!"

	I slapped her, a backhanded blow that caught her right across
her mouth, splitting her lip.  She wiped the first trickle of
blood off on her hand and stared at it for a moment.  Then she
smiled and whispered, "Thank you, mistress."

	I turned on to Jefferson and slowed down.  A look of fear
flitted across her face.  "Are you really going to make me sell
my ass on the street?"

	I stroked her thigh.  "Are you a whore?"

	She closed her eyes and shivered.  "Yes.  I'm a whore.  Your
whore."

	I smiled.  "Good.  We understand each other."  I sped up a
little and turned off Jefferson, headed for the highway.  I
glanced at Julie. She was slumped in her seat, turned toward me
as much as possible with her seat belt on, her eyes closed.  Her
vest was open and her skirt was as high as possible.  She might
as well have been naked.  I stroked her thigh.  "Just don't
forget.  Jefferson will always be there."

	She nodded, her eyes still closed.  "No, mistress, I won't
forget." She opened her eyes,  "Please, mistress, can I ask for a
favor?"

	I nodded.  "Go ahead."

	"Please take me home and whip me.  Whip me hard.  I want welts
from my shoulders to my thighs.  Please!  I want welts on my
belly and tits.  I want to be gagged so I can scream and scream
and know that you won't hear me beg for mercy.  I want to be
whipped between my legs.  I want to scream until my throat is
raw."

	I granted her wish.  I hung her by her wrists from a strong beam
in the family room, her toes just touching the floor.  I gagged
her with a damp washcloth and a strip of duct tape.  Then I
whipped her until my arm was tired.  She danced on her toes and
screamed into the gag. I saw her eyes rolling and knew she was
begging between screams. Begging for mercy that she knew she
wouldn't get.  Then I let her down and whipped her between her
legs until she fainted.  I carried her into the bathroom, revived
her with cold water, and left her on her knees in the corner, her
hands clasped on top of her head, tears streaming down her face
as she sobbed in pain.

	She woke me at 3:00 a.m. when she crept into bed with me.  She
didn't know I was awake.  I heard her whisper, "Thank you,
mistress."  The she curled up next to me and went to sleep.  I
waited until she was asleep before I put the covers over her.

	The next morning I woke to the smell of freshly brewed coffee. 
I put on a robe and went down to the kitchen.  Julie, wearing
just an apron, was mixing pancake batter.  She smiled and kissed
me, then poured a cup of coffee for me.  I sat down and took a
sip.  It was delicious. The welts I'd inflicted were very visible
against her fair skin.  I felt a sudden surge of guilt that I
worked hard to suppress.  I took another sip of coffee.  "We're
fucked!  Those welts won't fade for ten days, if then."

	She shrugged, which made her tits bounce nicely.  "I'll stay
covered up until they're gone.  Shouldn't be a problem."  There
was a slight pause before she added, "Mistress."   A moment later
she asked, "What else can we do, mistress?"

	I smiled.  "We can leave.  I can work from Amherst.  I do most
of my work at home or on the road."

	She stopped and stared.  "Really?  You'd leave Arthur?"

	I nodded.  "Arthur's already informed me he's going home to
Australia.  There's nothing to keep me in Pittsfield.  Besides, I
like having a pretty little slave to cook and clean for me.  I've
always thought women should be allowed to have wives to do that
kind of shit for them."  I cleared my throat.  "Now get that damn
apron off!  Who gave you permission to wear anything?"

	She tore the apron off.  "Nobody, mistress."  She sounded scared
but she was grinning.

	I patted my lap.  "Put that cute little ass right here."  She
scampered across the room and sat down cautiously."  She slipped
her arm around my shoulders and I stroked her breasts, belly, and
thighs while she practically purred with pleasure.  "What about
your parents?"

	She sighed.  "I'll call them.  I don't think they'll object to
me leaving.  They hinted that staying at school over the summer
would have been acceptable."

	I kissed her on the cheek.  "Good.  It's decided then.  We'll
drive over to Amherst this afternoon and go house hunting.  We
can be out of here in a few days."

	She tuned, slipping her arms around my neck, straddling my right
thigh.  She pressed her cunt against my leg and I smiled.  She
was wet.  "Really, you mean it?"

	"Of course I mean it.  Now rub yourself against me like a good
little slut."

	She began rocking back-and-forth, rubbing her cunt against my
thigh. After a minute or two her eyelids drooped and her mouth
went slack. She began to moan and rubbed faster and harder.  She
came with a sigh and rested her forehead against my shoulder.  "I
am a slut but that was sooo nice."

	I gave her a light slap on her left tit.  "Get your ass in gear
and finish cooking.  Then go and bring back an outfit to wear
while I shower.  Do you still have your old uniforms?"

	She nodded, smiling.  "Yes, all nicely ironed and hanging in my
closet.  I take it you want me to look like a schoolgirl,
mistress?"

	I kissed her.  "Yes, but a naughty school girl.  No bra, no
panties, and showing lots of thigh.  I want people to see the
welts I put on you last night."

	She giggled and stood up, leaving a wet streak on my thigh.  I
pointed.  "Clean it.  With your tongue."  She dropped to her
knees and licked her juices off my thigh like a good little slave
girl.

	We left for Amherst shortly before 11:30.  I'd emailed my report
and taken the day off.  Julie was wearing a variation of her old
schoolgirl uniform.   Instead of a long-sleeved shirt she was
wearing a cotton tank top that buttoned down the front with a
long row of tiny black buttons.  It was short, leaving two inches
of tanned belly showing.  Her skirt was blue plaid, one of her
old uniform skirts, but it had been shorted to show off a good
eight inches of her smooth firm thighs.  A pair of white knee
socks and black loafers completed the outfit.  Her pert little
nipples were doing their best to poke holes in the thin cotton. 
I shook my head, smiling.  "I hope you brought some id.  I'd hate
to have to convince a skeptical state trooper than you're
nineteen, not fifteen."

	She grinned.  "No problem.  I've got my driver's license tucked
into my pocket."  She patted her skirt.

	We hit the road and soon were headed east on the Mass Pike.  She
unbuttoned her top well below her breasts and her skirt was
riding high.  The virginal schoolgirl had been replaced by a
pretty slut. Make that a beautiful slut.  I suspended the rules
and let her call me Laura for the afternoon.  I didn't want her
making a slip and call me Mistress in front of a stranger.

	"Laura, are you sure you can afford a house?  Amherst is
expensive."

	I stroked her thigh and chuckled.  "Money is the least of our
problems.  My grandmother had more money than God and she left it
all to me.  Made my father very angry."

	We found a real estate agency and while I parked Julie was
buttoning her top.  She looked demure and virginal when we got
out of the car. The welts on her thighs were clearly visible and
I noticed the real estate agent looking at them as I introduced
myself.  "This is Julie, she's my ward."  The woman smiled and
shook my hand, glancing pointedly at Julie's thighs.  "I had to
spank her last night.  She got into my liquor cabinet and got
drunk."

	Julie nodded and smiled and the woman shrugged.  "What price
range are you looking for?"

	The last of her suspicions vanished when I smiled and said, "Oh,
anything up to a million."  We headed out and found a place
within an hour.  The asking price was $850,000.  I wrote out a
check on my private account for $90,000.  "Tell the owners I'll
pay $900,000 if they can close by Friday."

	We went back to Pittsfield and Julie called her parents from her
house.  They argued but legally Julie was an adult and there was
nothing they could do.  In the end they decided to cut her off
completely, not that it mattered.  I wrote a note for Arthur and
promised to split my trust fund with him.  He didn't know the
real story.  He though gram had left me a small trust fund, just
$50,000. He was happy to take $25,000 back to Australia withhim.

	Julie and I moved to Amherst.  She's a senior now and we've been
very happy.  I've never again beaten her with anything that would
leave welts.  But I've supervised her closely and she's gotten
what she craves - lots of pain and lots of mind-blowing sex.

The End


<4th attachment end>


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