**Roberta**
“You aren´t getting any wetter. Not good enough for you, baby girl? Neither I nor Kenneth? Well, we brought a bottle of dyke-grease.”
I wasn´t looking at the bodybuilder, a piece of a man speaking and it would be testing boundaries if I acknowledged the existence of his beer-bellied buddy.
Below the lamp with the vermilion shade laid two bills, orange in the normal light. Prosperits I was bought with because my team lost.
“Grab her arms. She begs to be nailed, not nuzzled.”
The thick beard of Kenneth´s swathed my fingertips, and I would be afraid of lice if the grime wasn´t going to stink out the inner tissue´s recesses. Bernard, the iron pumper, pressed my ankles together. My nude form was manhandled to a wooden cross, lying askew between the bed and the other wall. The clasp of leather drawn tight could be called mild if one was previously lifted by… *Them.*
“You are a dyke and, what is worse, a teacher,” Bernard said. He sucked in my supposed fragrance. „You smell foul, but cunt is a cunt, and I wished for an odd dainty – the milf adroit pussy that is rejecting the dicks. And I must only add the coating.”
A shadow of his shoulder reached the cornice area, and the cap of something he held loosened. His forefingers cooperating with thumbs applied a dense cream on my inner thighs, they chilled down the hairy garden of my crotch, and they overstuffed very chambers of the palace.
*Please, no.*
Short words of zero value. These staff members wouldn´t come if they had mercy, and in a large number of men, it is the denied consent that makes their rods retractable.
I wasn´t speaking. I was making noise still the moment when his pecker invaded my lubricated vagina. The noise of a turkey portioned alive.
Flashes of Bernard and Kenneth ingrained in me as the worst abasement I have ever ridden out, made worse by the outlook of my expanding clientele hanging over me for a month. Impossible but real monsters, thorny worms plugging my skin pores.
I wanted to become Sylvia. I love nothing like my wife and that very night I envied her self. She respected me not being ready to confide and slept, leaning against me. We had our beds slammed together. Lolle with Gina followed our lead latterly.
I wanted to become her because she was always the less tense of us. I blamed her irresponsibility for it. Now though, she can be the better… The levelheaded half.
If we ignore hornier. Pencil-hard nipples tickle my shoulder blade, and often when I am to lay down as a second, I pretend not to see how the cloth over her groin is lifting. I came to recognize it thanks to Basma. We are all teachers, excluding Gina.
“Ouch, Lolle, don´t tease me like that! Turn it back on! I swear I saw angels as it was rotating. Gimme that remote control! Aaaah, that is so magnum opus of fucking!”
“Ask, and you shall receive.”
“Were you born with coooock?!”
Gina only learns new things. I was divested of the pleasure part. I don´t want to waggle my waist. To the likely grievance of the lady who has joined my life in the city hall.
Lolle went to the bathroom at one point before sunrise, and she hurried towards the bed with a smug smile, a habit from the courts, recorded for tennis watchers everywhere. Unpredictably, those lips of hers withered the moment she looked at my way.
“Revolted, are you, huh?” she asked.
My mouth exhaled a little of air, and I turned my eyes in the way of quietly snoring Sylvia.
“Robbie, if I could humanize the fines, I would have thought of more sensible shaming. You are a bright bulb, a sharp knife. The worst part was supposed to be the money. The guys… The clients… Those are simply a different set of Heirs for most of us. The scumbags we are encountering and surviving.”
Sylvia stirred. Admiring the sleeping innocence, I stroke the crown of her head. Hard times had to befall me that I was inclined to agree with Lolle, but Martin was an unrecognized convenience. How must has he felt about his lesbian show being cut in half?
No, no! Dearest Sylvia, wake up and tell me what he has done to you!
I sat and gasped.
The one who reacted was Gina. She also uncurled her body on the bed, from the knees up, using the blanket as some cloak of the empress, fluttering behind her back. The shaved sex jogged the memory of the second-best intercourse since my coming out.
“Robs, for the initial weeks, they gave me relaxation pills,” she said in an assuaging tone. “Lolle has it right. It is no different to me. Sing a song of blue and orange to the breakfast meals and…”
“Gina, this will never be like for you.”
I wasn´t going to explain myself to her or little Prefectina.
“She will cure me of every malady.” I cupped Sylvia´s cheek. If I were ruthless as Lolle, I would wake her up. I am the most unfortunate person hereabouts.
“Sylvia, you are a healer, get up and thank your wife! Gina stretched on the double bed and pulled Sylvia´s legs.
“Where, where..” The sleeper was fighting the pillow.
“We are here, we are queer, you are used to it,” Gina quipped.
“Keep on sleeping, darling,” I counteracted.
“No,” Lolle said. “Since we are nearly all awake, I can announce the Paladins instructions.”
“I do know them too,” I snipped.
“Yes, Roberta, you know them. I can announce them.” She grimaced. “Basma has the exception. Surprise, surprise. I will not go to be interviewed either, since my Paladin reduced his subjects to five women. However, Sylvia will stay in the dining room, and so will Gina. If anyone will be searching for Roberta, however unlikely that might be, she is to place herself in the habitual classroom.”
*Uppity schemer.* Loathing her company, I stepped in the direction of the shower. Cautiously, for the sake of that one girl who hasn´t opened her eyes yet.
“I will wash myself after you,” Sylvia said and scuffled alongside, yawning endlong. I switched on the bathroom lights, and when my wife closed the door, I could ask a long last.: “What did Martin want from you?”
She winked at me.
“Doing things I was picturing you throughout!”
She thrust me into the shower enclosure and joined me, spraying the walls.
“Roberta, I have only one part that should be drier in the dawn of the new day!”
I have some pains in my underbelly, but the tongue hasn´t lost its flexibility. I kissed Sylvia shortly and sat in the tight space. Sylvia made it even tighter when she spread, and her gentle pussy looked around, dripping. The vagina in the depths of external pussy got its name from the sheath, and it is a sheath for the majority of women, but Sylvia drew the cunt – for it is immoral, dirty, shameless cunt when it has a life of its own – Sylvia drew it like some armed boobytrap. I moved closer. Now I saw the fragrant oyster, the nutritious ambrosia. The tip of my tongue crammed itself to the confined area as I was experiencing in the enclosure. However, I and Sylvia were transported to the timeless, spaceless territory, me skimming in the spicy den, Sylvia clenching and stretching the belly and swinging her arms, out of balance from the delight in her center. She turned the shower down, and so the stream of pleasantly warm water sprinkled on my behind. She bent whole and made it flow inside, tickling the butthole. The tongue oscillated, and Sylvia came. She dragged out, and I experienced the power of the mad orgasm through her teeth biting my left nipple.
No, Martin couldn´t have brought her happiness.
“Your file contained a sidenote that you are a gay.”
In the classroom, they seated me at the turned table. I had to wait for the questions and topics, hands behind the back. At the pedagogue´s place, Jack Johansson was tossing cashews into the air and caught them in his mouth every time.
“I am sorry if you think you will be wasting your time with me.”
The Paladin started to choke in good humor.
“You are racier than other options,” he said. “Back in the Institute, one of my classmates didn´t think two wives would saturate him. And since in the official lesbian couples one woman doesn´t count, he purchased the double deal.”
I intended on dampening him down, inconspicuously.
“Gay men could never have such a big family, could they?”
Johansson glanced knowingly.
“They can! Male homosexuals are allowed to have the legal bindings with as many partners as they wish as long as they are submitting their genetic material for the Gayseeding program.”
He petted the dish half-full of cashews.
“LGBT don´t have to fear men of science as they once dread the God-fearing folk.”
This I could voice support for.
“What do you want from people living in denial? Even if they are not big on evolution they know what DNA and brain are. Still, they insist there is something mysterious about humans.”
Johansson´s bearded chin dangled in the nod.
“Faith is excessive when you do have the intelligence, education, and the inspirative imagination. I consider these qualities central to raising viable man, not The New Androcentrism.”
“As an educator I…”
His right hand threatened me.
“You are an educator, Mrs. Brunkow but only of little girls. As I studied your profile, I saw you are an organizer and science inclined. Unfortunately, you do not possess the inspiration that has enabled the human species to survive. Heirs you are sleeping with are, by contrast, said to be very imaginative.”
I was thinking about Martin and his dolls, geeks and their… different toys, artful sadists…
Johansson was laughing for about half a minute.
“I think you would make them wear straightjacket. That is because you don´t understand and can´t be in charge. But you have a mind that can be led by the versatile one.”
“You seem to be an intelligent man,” I evaded. “Maybe, if I would marry you, I and my w… my lover Sylvie could we still be teaching and maybe writing textbooks?”
His eyes widened.
“You can be sure of that! I want my household to be scholarly-minded from me to my bitch! I mean Roxanne, my cocker. You know, I have a cousin in the House of Experts itself!”
“Incredible,” I said.
“He told me about the message Jenine Thompson recorded for the assembly. I was looking forward to speaking with her.”
Thankfully, I have a „competition“.
“She was isolated, but I think they will let you have some talk.”
He picked his nose, dissatisfied.
“I am trying. My pleas are falling on deaf ears. Mrs. Brunkow, your distinctions have my attention so we will see each other tomorrow again.”
He released me, and Stacey Hamilton assumed the seat.
For hours, my personality was trying to excrete itself, to be anyone but me. Johansson resuscitated the love of the person for herself by the virtue of approving my erudite leanings. Although, that could be just me lowering my standards.
I wasn´t going to meet him the next morning. We had scheduled the long bridging course of Holy Submission, so I and Sylvia slept together in the cage. Well, my eyes were closed. The day after, we came to serve the Heirs in the maid outfits, sometimes moving on our knees. I had a fit when some guys pulled us by the panties and ripped them off on Sylvia. I stood up one leg. Georgianna tripped it up and exhibited us on the crosses. My senses couldn´t quickly compile why I´m breathing so heavily.
Malcolm gave us a reproving look and wrote a long-winded paragraph into the class register. It amused me when I was reading from the register of underages. Sylvia had unimpaired panties, Lindsey probably left them in Weatherby´s living space, and the presiding man himself was interrupting me every sentence of the evaluation.
Teenage girls had issues and nobody could tell what will happen to those afflicted with the arguable learning difficulties. Take, for example, Louisa Polivka. She is excellent in Holy Submission, and Malcolm speaks highly of her acting skills, which is often related to neurosis, but she is wrecking any recipe they give her, she is playing with buttons on appliances, unaware of the mayhem, or classmates along with lectors watching her, and once she kicked Gutiérrez to the shin over something that happened in Shieldmaidens Raid two weeks before the act. Rosenstein said her mother knew about the earlier mental issues, but she thought they have been resolved.
“They are disciplined regularly under us, Brunkow,” Weatherby said. “Some of the mouses are just biding their time when the wariest cats are scratching in the opposite corner. Did you learn some scientific method that would make her normal and not that veiled untouchable of yours whom I can´t teach?”
Lindsey answered instead of me. “The diet is the most feasible course of calming her down. And let Clara go to the virtual reality with her and play in the super-duper survival drama. I don´t think anyone wondered if the situation of that aunt…”
In seconds, I hatched small revenge.
“Dysfunctional children need an extra amount of things all kids should get used to in the medium doses and in that I include physical activity that also stimulates them to think. For today’s PE, grown-ups have swimming and underages are climbing, is that so?”
“Not hard on the cerebral part, I´ll give you that,” Weatherby said.
“Ms. Manderville is a tennis player. She can toss a few yellow balls,” I suggested. They will play, I will supervise. Louisa the most.”
Sylvia looked me up and down but with the humbleness, I expected from her.
“Lolle insinuated into your party too late. She must step up a gear to compensate,” Weatherby said, an arrogant smile uglifying his face.
If the full-fledged lectors told Lolle I had come up with her reassignment, she couldn´t possibly be crankier this afternoon when we bereaved her of Ekström´s shadow. She was forestalling me and chivving the girls who dared to use racket as the scratching stick or a fan.
The wide tennis court benefited from the glass ceiling, and I cherished it from afar. It was splashed by the inrush of drops in the night, and the weather wasn´t any less Autumn today. Destination reached and secured, the girls formed arbitrary opponent pairs. When the leggier ones assumed the stance, my feet stiffed, so I reminded my head it is made of flesh, not bricks. But so were the girls. Gutiérezz showed what she´s got, and her friend Butcher bent her knees flexibly.
The special pedagogue was impelled to search for the dollies and long hair of Louisa. I found it all on the bench of waiting girls, but my concentration was required once again for Basma. She was watching the tosses, smashes, and rallies with grins. When Lolle called her name, I was sure those dark eyes contained a wish to fool around.
She grabbed the ball and shouted to her classmates: “Howdy, Holy Submission ducklings! Sometimes I said to myself, how colorful must be your lessons. Would I be a good student? I don´t want to find out. I think you look like this!” She opened her mouth and pushed the ball in, her eyes popping out in overacting. She tapped her backside a few times by the racket, and she went to the tennis net in which she wrapped up her hands. Basma was howling and laughing as much as the ball between her teeth allowed her.
Lolle squeezed the crown of Basma´s head and knocked out the ball, although the move could also shovel it deeper.
“You aren´t amusing me anymore,” Lolle rasped.
“Ms. L, you can be amused only when you look in the mirror,” Basma whispered. I rushed to them, intending to pacify Lolle. The temper of the champion receded without my credit. Lolle was swamped with work, pushing aside potty-mouthed youngsters, caught off guard by Basma pulling faces. The foxlings who wore two-pieces were trying to grab her brown jeans, grey sweatshirt, and green hijab. “Girls, tell me your names,” Lolle asked some pushful ones. They did.
“You will be my execution squad. If Al-Yahya ever makes a joke about you or the education, if she shows anything but the utmost respect to her elders, the next time you will take a dump, you will make her eat what your guts cast up. Al-Yahya, can we begin anew?”
Basma pointed her eyes into Lolle´s.”I sincerely apologize, fellow co-lector.”
Emotionless. Probably the way fear manifested in someone so impulsive. Lolle watched her play and gave her over hundred commands and invectives per minute, crueler than wardens. Lolle had become fixed upon Basma, she was looking for an excuse to punish her. She pressed to the bench when rascal´s set was over. If one of the co-lectors listened, so could I. Basma needed to converse, and she breathed her desperation to the nearby-sitting Pignon.
“My dad must be worried, Barbara,” she said in a low voice.
“He has no one else, and your people are forbidden to get plastered,” Pignon responded. “But you are the one who could have acted like a lady in school and…” Pignon gasped. She scratched her eyebrow like she had blood-sucking flees brooding in the warmth of the lashes. “And you must live in the real world. What we are doing has consequences.”
Basma rolled her tongue around. “I shouldn´t have “antagonize”, that’s what the principal said when the coppers spoiled my lunchtime. Here I met people who could have avoided it also they weren´t considered to be friends of the friends. One gal, Lewandowska is her name. She was ratted out!”
“By whom?” Pignon asked, not sounding much interested.
“She wouldn´t tell me. Brotherhood official, she didn´t want to shag. He did not sign the letter, but he was the begrudged guy she knew, and he would throw her here from the custody.”
Pignon cut the thread and said both good and bad things about her parents, which in turn put the discussion back where it started, to Basma´s father. Just like me, Basma was glancing at Lolle. Reassuring? Questioning? Did she see the same change as I did? Lolle wasn´t checking on the Arab girl so unceasingly anymore. She instructed playing underages, mindful of their styles, and looked satisfied with herself. Could there be some cold calculation involved?
The end of PE meant Lolle had one of her earlier laying downs for Lovemaking and the underages went to mine and Lindsay´s class. I spoke to Basma and Pignon in the back of beyond while we still were outside. “Girls, that was a put-up job.” They stared at each other.
“I think it was a put-up job from the second you´ve been playing around like a bigger retard than you are, Basma. You made sure Lolle will be watching your moves because you wanted her to hear the Lewandowska stuff.”
It tipped me off how strained Pignon was and how she almost flapped at one point.
“That didn´t happen at all!” said the very girl. “So, could I mention my suspicions to Lolle?” I asked.
“Can we buy your silence?,” Basma asked and my suspicion became the knowledge of the truth.
“By the whole picture. And you will tell me today. You are doing something against co-lector, which puts me, and my wife at risk.”
“We don´t have a time,” Basma objected lazily. “I will announce that you two are in serious need of extra classes. We can all go to virtual reality. Its inner circuit should be free of bugs. They installed it last and it was arranged for the teacher and his small group.”
“Zita and Alice will be there,” Pignon said. “They will be making graphics for Shieldmaidens Raid.”
“Is that a problem?” I asked.
“Zita knows the basics and Alice confesses just to her computer pictures,” whimpered Pignon.
“I don´t like the loony people,” I stated sincerely. “But they tend not to be arseholes.”
VR settings, designed for either education or entertainment are supposed to look fabulous, not to make sense. It´s the same bullshit principle as in religion. Virtual classroom for Biology had appearances of the desks attached to the raft, floating through the thick jungle. I could write the name of any animal, of any plant, stretch my arm into the branches, and I would pull out the specimen. In the advanced version, there will be “walking skeletons”, people doing anything imaginable, while you can make any layer of their anatomy go away.
Basma and Pignon explained the plot they were part of. Woodroof and Kane came over, drawing the 3D models for their studio.
“That Lewandowska has a sharp wits bit they do her no good. Lolle is working for prefect Green, I could have told her that if she… Ugh, why would she be asking me? I will discourage her from the revenge… What she planned to achieve, exactly?”
“Therese knows the next stage, not we,” Basma said.
The gal has put together an ingenious honey trap. Every Brotherhood potentate has some dirty laundry, they are just covering it by the tuxedo. And if somebody can prove what they had done… He just grows a little additional tentacle of power.
“I don´t think she wants to denounce somebody, it is a complete fabrication,” Woodroof mused. “Stacey said she will keep her eye on Larissa´s operation.”
“Zita, that is inconsistent worldbuilding,” Kane argued. “We agreed that our temples are taking a cue from antiquity and the gothic period.”
Woodroof twisted some of her lines of light on her lap differently.
“Stacey is not taking me, and Sylvia into consideration.”
“Stacey wants to help us all!,” shouted Pignon, much to the dismay of Woodroof.
“Clarify,” I told her.
“She can… sometimes send emails, so she fakes up to work with the Tower to get a video of torturing Pepper and the others!”
I smiled. “Shame on me, working for them. Do you have more secrets?” Woodroof looked into my eyes.
“No. Honest to God.”
“She can send emails?” Kane said. “I will write to my husband!“
“And I to my dad,” realized Basma.
“She has a time window once or twice a month,” Woodroof said. “She can write your messages, but it won´t be a dialogue.”
They´ve eventually settled that Stacey will send their emails as a reward if they keep their mouths shut.
“I´m helping Therese. I love her,” Basma said.”Why didn´t she let me on it?”
“Sometimes you are capable of great stuff,” I started in a conciliatory manner.”But the rest is so much self-serving that people don´t know what would you do with their secrets.”
She stood up and stomped. “Mrs. R, do you think this after living with me? Then I surrender. You should punish me!”
All women on the raft turned to her first, me the second.
“I always wanted to spank you,” I stated truthfully.
“I was never spanked,” she pondered.
“Shure you weren´t.”
“Just so you know, I still won´t let lesbian touch mine butt. And it must be someone of acceptable belief stance.”
“Mrs. Kane, I said automatically. “Do you believe in something?”
Kane put her left hand on her cheek. “I´m an agnostic.”
“I will go with that,” Basma said “My father once told me that being Muslim is your natural state. When you don´t refuse God in your heart and when you don´t accept inferior faith, you are close to that state.” She went to the empty part of the raft and bent, grabbing her ankles. The jeans hinged the pretty round bottom tight.
“Mrs. Kane, hold her waist.” I wasn´t letting this opportunity be wasted. Kane grabbed her, mouth opened widely.
“Slap the butt lightly, just give your arm some flight…”
Kane hit Basma nervously in the middle of the clothed ass and to the left cheek in the same tempo. The following slap was accurate “maternally”, and Basma got six, then seven, then eight strokes in an intensity advisable to any naughty child spoiled by her parents. Woodroof and Pignon were watching her humiliation breathlessly. That is so satisfying about the public punishment. It strengthens your authority.
Basma wiggled her ass and legs. “Mrs. R, I deserve some slack!”
“No, Basma. You accurately guessed what you need, but only the teacher can judge the dosage… And now, STAND STILL!”
Kane was doing some shorter pauses between the smacks. Basma stopped resisting and never shouted, but I thought her butt must have been hot as were the tears dropping on the virtual wood. I deserve this moment as much as you do, girl. You have made the world a little fairer.
Errant schoolgirls usually go to the corner pointing the mauled backside to others with hands on her head so she wouldn´t rub the sore buttocks. In this case, we didn´t have much time, the harshness of the thrashing therefore sufficed.
Basma wasn´t going back to the chair. Before we could log out and march elsewhere, the loud whistling announced a new visitor in our simulation. In the center of the turquoise hexagon, the figure materialized, bearing the features of Jack Johansson.
“Mrs. Brunkow, do NPCs in VR games grow old, wither, and die? Real people do, and I´m a real boy. The appointments as I see, are a matter of duty and decency.”
I was looking at the bright side that he didn´t arrive earlier.
“I ´m overworking because of children!” I dabbed Pignon´s head. “Video game characters are sometimes smarter. My lessons would be half-done if they haven´t seen mating of hippopotamuses.” Saying that with a straight face was my idea of humor.
“One of your students suffers from aging defects.”
There wasn´t a point in lying about Kane.
“Mrs. Brunkow, she should listen to our interview.”
She isn´t my type!
The girls touched an invisible point above their heads and logged out.
He seated us, looking apologetic. “I was full of it,” he said. “I´m not that impatient. It came in handy that you dissolved to ones and zeroes. I have heard what I shouldn´t have!”
*Talk, teacher´s pet! Talk!*
“I researched the infirmary. We have read gruesome newsletters, feeds, and enumerations abundant in surgeries Princess Towers are performing. But not here. You are living in… Safer haven, he, he, he! The injuries are mostly light. No patient caught my eye from amongst the rows of inmates, it was the secret that I saught. And when I say secret, I mean bed behind the screens. The lady on it had her head bandaged, but that did not make her unrecognizable. It was the warden whom I had in my place the other day. I asked her what happened, and she was like: ´Jenine Thompson jumped on me´.”
*Be sure to check 2b*
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/slpjf1/the_princesses_in_the_tower_chapter_5_part_2a