Friday, July 25, 2008

Reform, Chapter Five

Chapter Five

And Then the Lawless One

I looked for a good angle for an angel for six weeks, but nothing coming. These accounting records were a chip at the big table, and I needed something good to bet on. Once I had an angle, I would need Matron to leave her office for what I’d know would be long enough for me to burgle. Wasted opportunities. In six weeks she did this five times, the fifth taking an act of the Federal Alliance.

Matron bounced out of her office in all her tall blonde glory, as happy as I’ve ever seen a demon, and waited with her hands on her hips, smirking at the door into my little ad hoc accounting firm. And in a man walked Ashley St. Croix. I don’t mean to be elitist, but she looked rather like a rube.

She was in oil stained overalls, a brown cotton shirt, and primitive sandals. One thing stood out as big city life—the neck cuffs. If you’ve never had the pleasure, a neck cuff is an iron collar around the neck with rings. These rings are connected to wrist cuffs, forcing your elbows high into the air, your wrists chained to your neck in the back, your elbows high above your head. Very difficult to refuse to comply in such an outfit. Also, of course, uncomfortable, but Ash looked fine as always. Even amused.

The guy wore a kick ass black business suit. He was FA Praxis for sure, because no other (and honest) member of the constabulary could afford that austere garb. Praxis was issued nice, tax payer bought, stuff. He wasn’t much taller than Ash, not bulging, but his face gave me the impression of a lithe body made of steel. His eyes looked as if they glowed blue. I had to remind myself that I was a lesbian now, and that I was in a serious relationship with a jealous and punitive lesbian whom I wanted to snuggly with minutely and forever. Not that she spanked me hard anymore, but she was learning the cane and I could tell she was the type of lesbian that would whip the crap out of a cheating snuggle bunny. I’d actually be offended if she didn’t castigate my ass in a jealous rage, as I was her love slave and a high-end top-flight love slave at that, as she was my snuggle bunny, and pretty and the smartest most awesome person in the whole wide… sorry, back to what’s interesting to you.

‘Miss St. Croix.’ Matron Gregor was lofty. ‘So kind of you to join us to continue your education. Agent, are those barbaric cuffs really necessary?’

The agent had been cool. I could see him looking at everything in the room without moving his head, categorizing and memorizing, looking for potential clues and threats like DDU spies with long knives lying and laying in wait. After being asked whether the cuffs were necessary to contain the frail female in his custody, the agent’s head sank as he let a long lungful of frustration out.

He turned to my friend Ash with a stern but not unkind face. ‘Normally? No.’ Ash popped her eyebrows and looked around in mock embarrassment.

‘Well, agent… agent?’

‘Free Range Agent Joel Taggart, Ma’am.’

‘Well Agent Joel Taggart, I don’t think we’ll need those brutish cuffs anymore. Please remove them.’ Agent Taggart gave out a silent laugh while handing a folder to Gregor. It was more of a low “huh” with a little rasp to it. He kept his other hand on Ash’s collar.

‘Please sign the transfer orders first, Ma’am.’ She did. ‘Please note, both of you, that we’ve implanted a tracker that will alert us if she crosses a state line. That, also, is normally not necessary.’

Agent Taggart checked the signatures, then folded the folder and put it snuggly in a sneaky pocket on the inside of his coat. Cops and criminals dress alike, as I had the copy of the key to Matron’s office door Ash made in my own secret pocket.

He stood behind Ash and pulled a ring of keys out of his pocket. He stopped a moment, thinking very hard, then walked around Ash to face Ash, his head bouncing a little bit the way people do to build themselves up to parachuting out of a functioning airplane. She looked back like the innocent lamb she wasn’t. He shook his head(I doubt he got what he wanted) then walked around and freed the Kracken.

His hands around her neck collar, I could see he wanted to strangle her.

Ash didn’t make a big thing about rubbing her arms which must have ached. It was more like an idle scratch of a bored person.

‘Thank you, Agent Taggart. I can handle it from here. Miss St. Croix, I’m sure you know the procedure.’

‘Right.’ Ash walked by her and into her certain doom like most people walk to the register of McDonalds Plus to order a hamburger with uber-sized fries and a Coke. Was it “uber” still? It went from “Super”, to nothing, to “Extra”, to “as much as you want” to “more” to “More” to “Super” again, and at the time I was thrown in the clink it was “Uber” but hell it could be some Samarian word now for all I knew. Of course now I know it’s “Full”, but to this day I don’t know what it was then. I should wikipedia it.

Matron was too thrilled to insist Ash called her “ma’am” or “matron”. After all, she was restricted to the thirty-six cuts of the cane, and she already no doubt planned to make the best of each. I was sorry for my friend, but not scared, as I knew she liked the challenge of the cane, being, you know, batshit crazy. There was no cure, so I decided to just go with it.

‘Ma’am,’ the Praxis man said. ‘I understand you have to process her now, but there are a few things I need to discuss with you, so I’ll wait here.’ Matron didn’t like that. It was a tiny flash storm I would have missed if I hadn’t been looking right at her through the corner of my down turned eye. I’m sure Taggart caught it too, but he acted as innocent as Ash wasn’t.

‘Of course, Agent Taggart. This will just take a few minutes.’

‘Free Range Agent Taggart.’ He said it with a smile, mildly, and I suspected a little proxy war of words for position raged before my very eyes. I didn’t get it, not knowing rank, but I suspected. Ash smiled at the addendum, but made sure Free Range Agent Taggart didn’t see it. Hmm…..

The man from Praxis sat down in one of the plastic waiting chairs I’ve ever only seen reform girls sit in awaiting for the cane. It was comical. I only looked at him with my eyes. His hair was just slightly too long to be short, and it was obvious that a hairbrush would be both ineffectual and unneeded. His hair was light and beautifully chaotic yet orderly at the same time. Oh shut up! I’m doing the best that I can, people. That’s how it looked. It looked pretty irresistible, but in a way wholly different than my Snuggle Bunny’s perfect hair. His was perfect because it wasn’t perfect, and again, shut up.

My hair was down behind my adorable ears, by the way.


‘So,’ he said. ’You do the accounting around here.’

Er… this man had the power of life and death. ’No, sir. I just check it. It’s part of my re-habilitation. Other students share the assignment sometimes.’

‘Oh? That’s not normal, is it?’

‘Tests-’ CRACK! ’Tests show I’m optimized to be an accountant.’

‘Yeah, those tests. They’re getting better all the time at predicting a person’s aptitude. Still, they’re always wrong.’


He continued. ’Funny, my test advised I become a gardener. Pulling weeds is the joke. So anything funny about them?’

I kept my head down. I didn’t know what to do. My brain froze. His natural, good natured manner was, of course, a lie they taught him in New Orleans or Denver or Bismarck—whichever grueling FAFR training ground didn’t matter. I felt outclassed. Free Rang Agent Joel Taggart had just proved to me personally what everyone already knew as a matter of course: agents are good at their job.

‘I see nothing unlawful about the accounts I’m given, sir.’

‘You prefaced that statement. What about the accounts you’re not given?’

I was nervous, and my vocabulary suffered for it. I wasn’t afraid of him, I was afraid of how common he seemed. I took another look and realized that he was handsome. He wasn’t born handsome. He was born quite plain. However, I’m a girl, and I could see that his face had taken a grave serious expression so often that it left a permanent visage that made his face strong, trustworthy, and interesting. Pain was all over him. Especially around the eyes; the skin lined by concern that would have fit a philosopher king whom had suffered many battles against impossible odds to defend his definition of reason and the babies squirming behind it. Handsome interesting. And good natured despite the corruption that comes with great power and superior ability. I’ll even use the word kind, like he’d seen enough pain to hate pain of any kind, on anybody. I wasn’t attracted to him, not like that, not really. Well, I wasn’t sure, but I felt myself being seduced into trusting him. I grew scared.

‘I-’ CRACK! Poor Ash. That bitch caning her was a bitch. ’I don’t have to talk to you, sir.’

‘Call me Joel. How about this.’ His voice was cold perfect except for a touch of southern. And just a spider’s touch of it. Mississimplex? Left around age seven to the Mid West? No… it was impossible to figure. He was too smart and too well trained for me to guess at without clues beyond just talk. And country and southern were too easily confused. He could have been suckled in Russia for all I knew. ’You ask a question, any question, and I’ll answer you as honestly as I can.’ CRACK! That annoyed him. ’Then it’s my turn, and so on.’

‘No, sir. No bet, sir.’

‘OK. I should tell you that I’m going to learn everything before I leave, Danielle Archer, but maybe you don’t know anything, so maybe that doesn’t matter to you.’ CRACK. ‘Danielle Archer.’

The only person on the planet more uncomfortable than me at that moment was Ash. Or maybe not even her. She seemed quite the glutton for punishment, a condition I was learning more and more about from my Evelyn, but now I had a Praxis who somehow knew my name staring me down, making me feel like a naked virgin about to be sacrificed to river gods I didn’t believe in. But that wasn’t true. I didn’t feel bad because I lied. I didn’t feel bad because Free Range Agent Joel Taggart looked at me. I felt bad because I knew Taggart knew I lied. They train those boys good.

Still, I planned to plan the angle for an angel as soon as it presented itself. The Federal Affiliation could go to the Devil.


The silence. He kept looking at me. In silence. Except for…


‘How did you catch her?’ That came right out of me without any warning. I felt like a ventriloquist’s dummy. My stupid, stupid big fat mouth…

‘Perchance. I was in the area to give a deposition about another matter. I’m not with Reform Services. An old buddy of mine is and asked me to look the case over while I sat around, maybe give an opinion which way St. Croix was running. I decided there was no direction possible, so she wasn’t running. She was near, waiting for the CRACK the… the hounds to give up before she hit the road. That’s what I would do. So I looked through the investigation reports until I came across an interview with a nearly blind from age mechanic and I knew. I sabotaged my car, visited the junkyard in plain clothes, asking for repairs, and found St. Croix with her hair tucked into a ten gallon hat, talking low like a man, fixing cars for the old timer. She… CRACK I swear… we always write a report, but this one people will read so they can learn a few things. I managed, through powers greater than mine, to deliver her four days later when it should have taken four hours, and here we are. Now…’

‘How did you know about the mechanic?’

‘That’s a second question, and it’s my turn.’

‘No, it isn’t. Sir. Blaming it on instinct is like blaming it on magic. Sir.’

He smiled at me. It was very genuine. The problem with someone you know is lying to you is that not everything they say and do is necessarily a lie. The smile seemed genuine… damn. I couldn’t tell, so I assumed it wasn’t.


‘Instinct is sometimes better than reason for a trained and experienced brain because instinct is the product of the subconscious, and the subconscious is always smarter than the conscious. The subconscious is smarter, but unfocused. With training you can teach it a thought process that can be traced back. Reason, sometimes, is merely retracing the steps of instinct. CRACK It’s not easy to lie to Praxis. The old man, in the transcript, was loquacious and opinionated. He was asked about a girl. If he had a girl, he would have lied on general principle because we’re the government and he fought with distinction in The War of Reduction and The Great Dividing Line. His nature is contrary. If he lied to those agents, those agents would have known it. CRACK So, he didn’t lie. General principle: if I can figure something out, so can someone else. A clever girl would know lies couldn’t help her, no matter how earnest the desire of the liar; and a clever girl could fool a blind old man into thinking she’s a boy, especially if she is good with mechanics, because people in a relaxed state think in stereotypes. CRACK I knew she was clever because she escaped and avoided recapture. Escaped through this South Fence which is so famous, it appears. I saw in the report that St. Croix made perfect marks in shop. Good with tools. So, it follows that she was either giving an oil change to a car or melting in the belly of a cougar. Fortunately it was the former.’


The CRACKING increasingly annoyed him while his words increasingly amazed me.

‘Interesting choice of words. “Blaming.” So you have strong feelings for St. Croix. Probably admire her. And you think this place is no good for her—she’s better off on her own. I agree. I’d like her in the force or in the military, but that’s her call, not mine, and she chose reform school.’ CRACK. ‘Now what about these other accounts Gregor doesn’t present you?’


‘That’s enough.’

He said it under his breath while he rose from his chair, seeming to press his hands on his knees to augment the maneuver. He didn’t move naturally. He moved a little supernaturally. The man from Praxis appeared at Matron’s door and opened it and entered like he owned the world. I write it as if I saw it. I only say it in memory. Taggart could move.

Matron was livid. She spoke so fast I could hardly record the profanities. I couldn’t spell a few of them, and neither can my computer’s spell checker, so I’ll just skip it. She brandished her cane at the man, but he rotated the seat zapper with his fingers, not even moving his hand or wrist. He tossed the cane aside like he didn’t need it anymore, as he was a Jedi, like his father before him. The cane just flew away.

Taggart backed away from the door, Matron poking him in the chest with an epee finger. It was comical. Gregor, taller than the man from Praxis, looked like an angry gerbil compared to the guy. His grace, his apologetic manner, his submissive hands in the air, and bemused laugh oozed comedy as he backed away from the Fury. Four or five steps back he stopped and made serious, an altogether different smile on his face. Gregor’s finger jammed into his suddenly steadfast chest. She flinched and retreated on reflex, her whole body routed by a stubbed digit.

Free Range Agent Joel Taggart retook some of the field of battle.

‘Calm? Good. That’s enough, you’re verging on vengeance.’ He looked Matron in the eye cold and indifferent as he spoke on high. ‘Get dressed, St. Croix, and get out. Ignore the Matron for now.’

Maybe I wasn’t a lesbian? Maybe I did want a man in my life to tell me what to do, protect me from monsters, and, Hell, he could even spank me if that got his motor running. I harbored a fantasy, me in chains, and dish rags around my waist, and dreams of hand feeding him omelets… Jesus, why omelets? My brain is broken.

I heard, ‘you’re wasting the FA’s money with this and I have some…’ yelled at the calm and running dog Taggart before Ash closed Matron’s door. Ash was pissed. I didn’t know she could get pissed.

I pounced on her as she rubbed her bottom.

‘Ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygod… are you ok? What happened? Are you still crazy?’

‘Bastard should have minded his own business.’ She walked out some of the sting while I walked with her, clutching her shoulders from behind. We made little circles in the office, Tazmanian Devil style.

‘Ah, the answer is “yes”. He stopped Matron from cutting you in two.’ Hmmmm…. ‘Hey… look, certain… hidden desires of mine have recently let out so if you want to disclose any compelling impulse you have to… towards contrition I would be happy to discuss the… er… problematic nature of dyslexic physical satisfaction that some people—prudes—would look down on or give s fancy name to and of a disturbed Frenchy royal author as if this compulsion for dyslexic physical and emotional surcease of sorrow…’

Ash stopped and I bumped into her back. More importantly I bumped into her backside, causing a spasm in my insane friend who may just be a little bent like I turned out to be.

‘I don’t need some thug in shining armor rescuing me. Bastard doing me a favor… I can handle myself!’ she screamed at Matron’s door, or would have if I didn’t gag her with my hand. She clamped her teeth on my hand and turned and grabbed me, I think reflexively, and we had a little vertical arm wrestling match while we stared each other down. I could feel her heavy nose breaths on my fingers. The bit, and the pain was hard to ignore. I was terrified and out matched; but right, and being right helps.

She remembered me, over time, and calmed down. She was furious, but she remembered that she wasn’t furious at me. I relaxed my grip. She continued to cool down. I felt her mouth twist under my palms. I removed my hand and there was that smile I’d missed. I breathed out a sigh of “I’m not going to die a violent death” and bent over, my palms on my shaking knees. It was a position I’d taken so many times for Coach’s paddle that it had become a security blanket.

Cool calm and collect[sic], I returned vertical.

‘So, you fought the law and tied, which is like tying a train.’ That made her laugh. ‘I kept your stuff.’

‘I figured, but I wanted to appear optimistic.’

We smiled at each other and made a date to catch up and giggle and girltalk and all that noise. Then Alexia hauled her off to get processed, which is the “welcome back” sans cane. Medical examination, uniform, code of conduct book, and shitloads of paperwork. Forgive my Gallic, but no other word comes close. If you let your kids read my seamy diary, you’re an unfit parent. Get over yourself, prude, I’m a kinky lesbian now, so Victorian propriety is out except for table manners which I enjoy as a game with winners and loser.

I took my seat.

A few minutes later the door opened and two members of the Establishment exited. Gregor locked the door.

‘Of course we’ll cooperate fully with Praxis, but the length of St. Croix’s term here is entirely under my discretion.’

Taggart bent his head and made a “stk” noise. He appeared good natured about it, but he didn’t pretend to lack influence. ‘Discretion is not caprice. Discretion is guided by reason and logic in accords with the facts, and is therefore accountable. Discretion is not will. Keeping her here another four years on top of her current sentence is a waste of this school’s resources, the people’s money, her time, and the Alliance’s time. That is not Justice, capital “J”. Not to mention pointless—the girl is perfectly responsible for her actions. Also, she can’t be punished because her problem is not youthful abandon. She can be trained, she can be molded and focused into somebody who can find contentment, but not spanked like most girls. No offence.’ That last bit was directed to me, but Gregor was in the room so I pretended to be a sloth. A dead one.

‘She escaped…’

‘She wanted freedom!’ Taggart turned away from Matron with his hands up. ‘She didn’t escape because she wanted drugs or to hurt somebody or even herself.’ He put his hands in his pants’ pockets and studied an aerial photograph of Southdown hanging on the wall. ‘Christ’s sake, first thing she did was get a job.’

Matron dismissed it with a wave of her hand. ‘Temporarily, to cover herself. Eventually she would have descended into savagery like all… untrained Reformers.’ Taggart turned and looked at her hard. He didn’t like something about that, and he didn’t care if Matron knew it.

‘That’s not empirically demonstrated. And that’s not my opinion.’

Matron never looked so condescending. ‘It’s my opinion, and that’s all that matters. Induction is imperfect in this case. I know the girl’s nature. Now I’ll show you the grounds.’

I watched the two leave two seconds longer than I should have. Taggart watched me watch them, and let me know it. He was good. Gregor never caught me eyeing her. He was on to me, but it was too late for him. I had my angle and my angel.

I used the keys Ash copied from my Snuggle Bunny’s master set, unlocked and open, closed Gregor’s door behind me, and snooped.

There the third accounts were, in plain view in Gregor’s bottom desk drawer under thirty pounds of paperwork. Six simple sheets of paper. I folded them nice and snug and stuck them in a hidden pocket I sewed into my uniform like the cops. Then I pulled out The Note with the aid of a handkerchief I normally only used to clean my face after a much deserved thrashing from a goonlet who didn’t love me. I had never touched The Note with bare fingertips. On The Note, in letters cut out from three different fashion magazines(I threw them away after) and pasted on common paper, the following:

We have the accounts. We will give them back, but we want something in return. You must deal; our price will be cheap. Acknowledge the theft by announcing an extra portion of ice cream for dinner. Then watch the bulletin board for two weeks.

Yes, I even cut out and pasted the punctuation marks. Don’t judge me.

I placed The Note where the accounts used to be, and beat it out of the office just as Snuggle Bunny entered my ad hoc accounting office. There absolutely, positively, must be a God; and He must absolutely, positively, love screwing with me. I’m like a Sit Com character to Him.

‘Hey, I heard that your crazy friend just are you out of your fucking mind?’ Well there is no answer to that, is there? Either I am crazy, and thus not qualified to make judgments; or I’m not crazy, but you can’t trust my opinion as my sanity is in question.

‘Er… I was just snooping.’


Somehow, someway, my Snuggle Bunny looked a lot like this girl I used to know by the name Evil-Lyn. She dragged me out of the sill, locked the door from the inside, and shut it. Her attention elsewhere, I hid the key in my pocket.

She looked me down. Not up and down, mind you: down. ‘Did Matron want you in there?’

‘Well, no…’ I should have lied, but I made a common error and told the truth before it occurred to me to weigh the issue. Evelyn’s eyes are very, very blue.

Her smile was just constrained, playing the part. ‘Ohhhhh… I’ve neglected that butt of yours too long, but I’m going to correct that this very minute.’ I silently agreed. It had been two days since she made me scream for the bliss to stop—too much bliss! She grabbed my neck and forced me to my orgasmic doom. ‘You’re getting a spanking!’


She was an excellent actress. I had to confess to myself that part of me wanted a genuine promise of a tear gushing hind quarters whacking to add spice to the sex ritual, but only a small minority that only had political power in universities, like the Vegetarian Party. She marched me down the hallway. I looked crestfallen and resolved to have my adorable ears filled with the WHACKWHACKWHACK of a hairbrush against my ostentatious bottom. Some of the people we passed were sympathetic, some ignored us, and some gloated.

We passed an open dorm room and I got a glimpse of Gail’s big shapely bottom up in the air catching Alexia’s strap. Alexia had dropped off Ash and decided to spend the paperwork time giving Gail incentive to stand more. Alexia was cool, and one of us, but she had it in for Senator Gail for sure. I wondered if it was for the same reason Snuggle Bunny had it in for me… nah. Gail was just unlucky enough to have the most smackable sitter in town, and I was just very lucky.

Snuggle Bunny shut and locked the door, as this was an esoteric affair unfit for the common stock. I waited in the middle of the room, bouncing a little on my knees for a about three seconds, which was how long it took Snuggle Bunny to grab her hairbrush. I stopped bouncing, as I was a dead sloth.

‘Snuggle Bunny?’

Then time jumped forward a bit, which is very rude, and my brain awoke to two sensations: 1. Carpet visualized a foot beneath my face. 2. Searing pain!

WHACKWHACKWHACKWHACKWHACKWHACK- you get the idea. I was too addled to count the paddlewhackings or initiate intelligent debate on the subject. I just screamed out some freshly learned profanities and kicked and twisted until I reached the critical bottom throbbing limit and simply collapsed over Evil Snuggle Bunny’s knee so my super-smart subconscious could put all my energy into mewling.

That didn’t stop her, of course. Nope. WHACKWHACKWHACK…

My butt was just fire by the time the WHACKS stopped, not that I really noticed. The present pain was more than sufficient to feel punished; additional pain would have suffered from the principle of diminished utility of return. She had even spanked the mad out of me. Evelyn outdid herself.

She picked me up and sat my thighs down on her lap so that my hot ass hung over the side. She forced my limp neck over her shoulder, rubbed my back, and shushed me. I don’t know for how long.

I felt pretty good.

Eventually something needed to be said, but Snuggle Bunny was a coward so I initiated without profanity. ‘You spanked me hard.’

‘Yes, I did. You know why, or do I need to spell it out?’

‘Yes to both.’

She rubbed my adorable ears. That just wasn’t fair.

‘Danny, you get caught breaking into Gregor’s office—forget the caning. A caning is nothing. What is that, a couple days hard sitting? She could keep you here four more years. Years! Damn it, Danny Bear, you know what prisons used to be like? Stupid girls like you thrown in with savages, gray bars, mind numbing routine, no education, no nothing—everything inhuman. Soul crushing! This place sucks, I admit. I want to live, Danny, and I insist you live with me. There is a world of Chinese food and malls and movie theaters and near absolute freedom just a little bit of time away for both of us. But you have to learn responsibility. Can’t you understand that? You have to govern yourself to get the rest of us to tolerate your freedom. That’s why you’re here, little girl. To teach you the difference between a girl and a woman, and I’m not going to spend four years on the outside waiting for you to respect other peoples’ freedom. How could it knowing you suffered in here? I will spank you until you understand it, and I will continue to spank you until you act it. I can’t just hope… I’m not going to treat us as a bet. I’ll spank you everyday if it gets our asses out of here on schedule.’

I slumped on her shoulder. She smelled good. ‘That wont be necessary. I get it. I wont snoop anymore. And I’m not mad.’ I somehow brought myself up from my body’s rightful and natural position on Evelyn’s shoulder to look her in her evil little eyes. ‘I’m not mad, I know why you spanked me, and I know you will do it again, and I wont be mad then, but you have to tell the truth. You enjoyed smacking my bottom until I yelled out and begged, didn’t you? Oh, don’t look all sheep on me!’

‘Of course I enjoyed it!’ My Snuggle Bunny confessed like she was stating she liked ice cream-as I suspected- but still I was a little annoyed. ‘You’re impossible! Spanking you is the only way to get you to admit that 2 plus 2 equals 4 when you yourself would scream bloody murder if someone told you it was 5. You’re just contrary! God damn! Any rational human would enjoy spanking you just five minutes after introduction. Me? I already know how impossible you are, and I already know how much fun it is spanking that impossibility out of you. And, yes, watching your buns bounce is sexy—sue me. What, you sore?’

‘I deny nothing.’ I snuggled my Snuggle Bunny, which was efficacious because she was a snuggle bunny par excellent. I didn’t feel like moaning over the paradox that is my nature, so I didn’t.

‘Also, smacking you hard is good stress relief.’ I agreed silently in my head. My personality and full ass were tailor made for stress reduction. Damn it. I was ill fated for sure. I readjusted myself back over her shoulder and felt as carefree as a tree and pondered Snuggle Bunny’s woes.

‘Stress? Ha! What, woman problems? Just spank them into submission. That’s what ever girl really wants you know; haven’t you ever watched a John Wayne movie?’ I wanted to bite her neck off. I tried, with my teeth, but it wasn’t working. Her skin was resilient.

‘I can’t spank this one. Gregor is going to change Southdown’s essay question for the Annual FA Rand/Friedman/Stout Trust Competition.’ It is weird to hear a half pouting tone from someone that just spanked every ounce of sass and pride out of you. ‘They need to think up a new name.’

‘Just call it the RFT…’ I mumbled this, trying to take it in while chewing on her blouse. ‘But you… wait.‘ I popped off her shoulder to look her in the eye. ‘You already submitted your essay to Gregor. Capitalism the Phenomenon. The essay I toiled over, editing out all the passive tense? It was excellent! I mean it rocks except for all the passive tense, but I took the passive tense out!’

‘Yeah. She didn’t like it. Sort of pissed her off, actually. I didn’t, I thought she’d like it. I really did.’ That wasn’t disappointment on her face—that was hurt. ‘I tried to defend it but she wouldn’t let me speak. Then I asked how she would go about changing it, and she said she’d start by “throwing it in the bin”, but that it didn’t matter because she was changing the essay question. Everybody needs to rewrite. She’s screwing everybody over. Something about comparative analysis with the FA and DDU and freedom of speech or… multi inculcation or something Hell what does it matter.’ She didn’t say that last bit as a question. ‘This is going to set me back a bit. Years, actually. Maybe worse. She acts like she never plans to leave Southdown like I thought, so that leaves me her recommendation to run another school and I don’t think I’m going to get it. Don’t know what I did.’

She wasn’t whining. Whining wasn’t in her nature. She shook her head a little, trying to dislodge whatever synapse traffic jam kept her from a conclusion. She automatically blamed herself. That was her nature, but fortunately nature provided her with a me.

I hugged her, and plotted my two angles for two angels against the middle.

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh Hell and Crap-olla

I fear posting all of Reform because once that well runs dry I really will have to work. I wasn't always lazy. I was quite industrious at times, in my youth, when a grade hung in the balance. The private sector is a bitch. More than a bitch. A lamia. Still, I'd hate to run an inactive blog.

So, here is chapter five of Reform. Sigh. I'm running out of rope, here. I don't know what to do.


Thursday, July 24, 2008

Reform, Chapter Four

Chapter Four

Best. Spanking. Ever.


‘Last night!’ Lauren was all in a tilly, squeezing the imaginary life out of her bear, Dr. Featherstone. ’Through the South Fence! And the goons didn’t find out about it until twenty minutes ago. She’s been out for like thirteen hours. Alexia just told me while going door to door, locking us in.’


Two memories flashed in succession in my head. A memory of me bonking my head last night; and a memory of me going into my stash for hooch, turning my back on Ash for five seconds while she had her hands hidden behind her back. I didn’t see those hands until she toasted to getting out.

I reached for the hard thing that was under my pillow. It was a sack full of Ash’s stash! And the keys she copied from Evelyn! Last night I banged my head on cans of Relief Cold Cream, the Keys to Everything, and other sundries.

There was a note:

I meant what I will have said last night. Keep this stuff, I wont be needing it. Sorry I don’t have any of your Cloud, but it’s hard to find of late. Cash, of course, I need. Put what I had in the mini fridge fund. I hope your date goes great, and I really hope you and Lauren get the best in life. Maybe I can look you up when you get out.


P.S. Burn this note unless you’re in the mood for a spanking.

You magnificent bastard.

She would get captured sooner or later, I knew, so I refused to consider any of her stuff as my stuff. Ash would need cream for sure when Gregor got done with the caning to beat the record Ash currently held. She’d stripe Ash’s bottom into, well, ash…that girl was insane and wonderful.

Morning classes were canceled; we were all locked in while the goons and the goonlets made the rounds, so I had plenty of time for a dinkum thinkum.

OK, she didn’t get out through the Den. My reader would have told me, so Ash must have found a new way. That wasn’t important. Girls could get out of the building plenty of ways. The main building used to be a boarding school for rich or gifted Mason kids, after all. The crazy thing was getting through the South Fence. Ash had to get past the horses without freaking them out or waking up the grounds keeper Mr. Foxtrot. She had to get past the infra red triggered alarms. She had to get past the fence. Then she had to get past all the nothing beyond. But how?

I slapped my forehead.

It all hit me at once. I think I think retroactively. The wetsuit to keep in the body heat. The horse urine from Coach to smear over the wet suit so she would smell like a horse, keeping them calm while she snuck by. That big limb hanging over the fence she pointed out. Just add rope. And all the questions about the tree cutter’s four wheelers she asked that boy yesterday. She’d tool that muscle off-road badboy to civilization, or close enough to walk anyway.

My friend was free to run around and confound The Man for a few days, maybe a week. I was happy for her. But that wasn’t the best part. No, no the best part came later that day.

I sat at my desk outside Gregor’s office, pretending to arrange accounts that I finished thirty minutes before, listening to Evil-Lyn explain to Gregor how Ash got by her goonlets. Yes. Yes. Yes…..


‘Seven! Thank you, ma’am!’

Yes, thank you, Ma’am. Thank you indeed.

I was actually pretty impressed. The blonde Georgia Peach kept to the script without adlibbing a “Ai!” or “Gaaah!” or “Just shoot me!” to the play. Of course it was easier to scream a number than keep quite all together.


‘Eight! Thank you, ma’am!’

Glorious. Evelyn’s such a giver: it’s nice to hear her get something back. It’s like It’s A Wonderful Life.

She got twelve over half an hour, due to all the lecturing. Unlike one of us little people, Gregor actually wanted to teach her top goonlet an important lesson in security. Took a little of the fun out of it. I thought about Matron’s loyal dog, over that damned desk, getting whacked with a newspaper. Loyal even during punishment.

And, ultimately, I’m not a vengeful person. I suffered a little cognitive dissonance while Evelyn suffered a little wood dissonance. On the one half of the brain, Evil-Lyn has sadistically spanked my lily-white-ass so often I lost count years ago: and what comes around goes around. On the other half of my brain, I didn’t actually bare malice towards the bitch. If she wasn’t spanking me, someone else would be, because I’m being reformed. I didn’t actually dislike her. Actually (and I understand I’m overusing the word “actually”) Evil-Lin was a person to admire if she wasn’t so freaking evil.

Also, to wish that cane on anybody would be making a deal with the devil. I don’t believe in the devil, but I also don’t believe in screwing around with whatever galactic darkness bore those canes and the will to use them.

Like getting shot in the back with a crossbow, that horrible feeling came over me. That feeling from the miserable night before. Waking to the news of Ash’s escape and whiling away the afternoon listening to the justified spank-karma only distracted me; but that hopeless feeling overcame me again and at last and forever. It was like falling: there was nothing I could do. I couldn’t grab anything, or flap my wings or anything. This happened to me all my life and I didn’t like it, and I wanted to cry for no freaking reason whatsoever. It was a lot of nothing in my heart.

I hated it. I didn’t know how to fight it.

Evil-Lyn closed the door behind her and paused. She looked alright. Breathing a little heavy, but she took it well. Somehow her hair was as perfect as ever, and her glowing face didn’t grimace or sulk at all. She even looked beautiful.

Again, a little impressed.

I am not a vengeful person, I have said, and I fully admit that I can be as petty as the next girl, but canings were something else so I didn’t beam a face of joy at my beautiful persecutor. I kept me face on my accounting and beat down any attempt at a smile, which wasn‘t hard because I felt like shit anyway, but seeing Evelyn sore bottom standing there did improve my mood a tad, just a tad; just enough wiggle room to breath. I tried to be grateful for that.

I heard her walk towards the door. Her gait was normal when others would have been stiff and measured. I already knew she was tough. Then she stopped, and walked towards me.

Oh shit.

‘Look at me.’ Her voice, unlike her walk, was quite measured, but it didn’t fool me. Looks like I’d get escorted to her room for a nice calorie burning lap dance. There was no way out of it, but I did have to hide a smidge of (vengeance?) lust out of my eyes when I dutifully looked at her big blue eyes. She leaned over the desk, supported by her palms, and gave me a firm, firm look of ill tidings.

‘I’m sure you enjoyed that, but you’re not thinking things through, which is exactly why a smart girl like you is in here in the first place. The difference between you and me is that you get spanked; I get disciplined. I know what I want to be, and I’m on track. Someday I’m going to run this place. Yeah, I need help. I need guidance from my elders, and I’m grateful for it, even though it’s painful. And it is painful, Archer. I’m not an ice queen; if you prick me enough with a cane, I bleed, it’s just that I know what I want, and I’m learning, and learning is painful. So you can gloat all you want that Matron caned me for a failure I admit to, and I wont even take revenge on you, even though we both know I could, because we also both know that with all your petty schemes and deals, you’re just a truck stuck in the mud, spinning your wheels.’

A hit. A very palpable hit.

God and Damn but that Georgian accent is awesome.

She walked away, but I didn’t want her to. ‘Evelyn,’ she stopped her departure and turned back to me. ‘I’m not prettier than you. We’re equally pretty. I’m just smarter.’ Evelyn looked at me wide eyed, then half knelt to the ground, fighting back her laughter so Gregor wouldn‘t hear. She bit her hand. I wanted to laugh too, but it wouldn’t be cool, so I forced the mirth down to a mere full faced wide and knowing smile. I looked very awesome I’m sure.

Lynn struck back.

‘No, we’re not equal. I’m prettier than you because I have the classic beach bunny features fit for Playboy. You have a… I don‘t know, an incomparable beauty. But I do appreciate you saying that, though.’

Is this how peace is made? It can’t be. No, I hate her. She SPANKS ME FOR FUN! She’s an evil bitch that tortures me with her classic beach bunny features. I mean hairbrush! That was a Freudian Slip. I mean that WASN’T a Freudian Slip! Damn it!

I gawked.


Gawking continued with no end in sight.

‘All the times I’ve whacked your butt,’ she said, smiling and shaking her head back and forth at how absurd reality is. ‘And finally I figured a way to shut that mouth of yours. I might be sainted for this.’

Gregor stormed out of her office wherein the mice could now play. ‘Oh, good, you‘re still here. Take Archer and find out what she knows about the escape. I’d do it myself but I need to talk to Praxis. She may know nothing, but I think she might, so be harsh.’ I was too startled to move, so Gregor twisted one of my ugly ears and dragged me to my feet. She tug-boated me so that I practically fell into Evelyn’s arms.

That hurt, but I kept that mouth of mine shut. Not out of pride. That feeling of falling came back to me, and frankly, sorry to be such a wuss, but I was too weak of will to react because nothing I did mattered. Nothingness somehow hurt.

‘Yes, ma’am. Right away.’

Evil-Lyn was back. She would no doubt claim she was just following orders at her trial for crimes against humanity. Good luck with that. She grabbed my arm and marched me to a spanking that would surely open that mouth of mine to free all the screams I had locked up in my diaphragm. And good riddance because I hated them.

Being marched to Evil-Lyn’s room was never preferred. Everyone I passed knew what was going to happen to my sexy bottom. Most tried to ignore it, some were sympathetic, and some gloated. I tried to keep my eyes straight ahead, dead to the world, but I could feel their eyes all over me as Evil-Lyn marched me to her torture chamber to give me the full price of admission.

I wasn’t mad at Ash. I understand why some would be, but that really is petty. I knew who Ash was when I decided to spend so much noticeable time with her, I knew what that could bring me, and now I was going to get it. Hell with it, it was going to happen eventually anyway, because that’s what happens when you get reformed.


We went in to Evil-Lyn’s fully stocked dungeon. I stood in the middle of her room, looking straight ahead at a Liz Phair poster, and listened to Evil-Lyn shut and lock the door. Didn’t know why she would lock it. She never had a roommate for long, probably for the same reasons spiders didn’t, and she didn’t have one now. Maybe it was to stop Superman from flying in when he hears my screams from his artic Fortress of Solitude. If only the world did have Superman. I don’t think we’d get weak. I think we’d try harder to match him. We always have, when great men shame us. But I didn’t really care.

Evil-Lyn’s lower rear-back-leg junction had been freshly whipped, so I didn’t expect the hairbrush, at least not at first as she’d have to sit. After giving me three or four dozen from her prison strap and a few coats of cold cream for her own bottom, her can would be able to sit on a pillow while she bruised every square inch of my defenseless hinterland with her hairbrush. That was just no fair way to wage a pillow fight. Hell with it. I’d rather be in mindless agony than wherever the Hell I was now, waging war within myself for the prize of nothing. I hated feeling this way. I felt like a traitor to everything my parents cared about, even their love for me. It was just hopeless and meaningless and nothing was good. I felt like a speck of dust on a tennis ball, only a matter of time before I got cast off into an infinity void of oxygen and land to stand. Nothing would be my grave forever. And my stomach hurt.

She popped in front of me from out of nowhere. I started, but kept my feet on mark. She bent my head to the right, and inspected my sore ear with her fingers and eyes. ‘Ya know, I respect Gregor, but sometimes she really is just a bitch. Did she hurt your ear much?’

What? ‘No, ma’am.’

‘It looks undamaged. They’re such cute ears, too. Some people just don’t appreciate beauty.’


‘I’ve often wondered what kind of earrings I’d like to see on your adorable ears; if we were allowed rings in here.’ A thousand hairs told me she breathed on my neck while she rubbed out some of the sting in my adorable ear. ’Something austere. The rings. Something small and shiny so they attract attention without distracting attention. Oh well…’ She let go of my adorable ear and arranged her spanking chair in the middle of the room.

I had never told anyone about my hatred of my ears.

Never. One. Person.

I’ve hated my ears since I looked up the definition of the word “hate“. Ah, a strong dislike or loathing. This word is talking about my ears. They curve down too much, and are too flat against my head which was now swimming, because after all these decades of strongly disliking and loathing my ears, I knew one thing for certain.

I loved my ears.

Just what the Hell was going on here?

Evelyn sat down, grimaced, then shook the pain away with a smile that was almost a laugh. She shrieked in a German accent, ‘Vee must learn discipline!’ Was she high? Did Evelyn and Gregor smoke a joint between cane strokes? I know canings can gush endorphins into the blood stream, but I didn’t know they could get you baked. ‘Come here, girl.’

I’d walked to her side for a spanking like a hundred times before, but this one was harder because my feet were six miles beneath my head. I managed, stood on stilts at her left, and, with Evelyn’s help, eased over the soft warm lap of my spanker.

‘Danny,’ she lifted my skirt. ’You don’t know anything useful about St. Croix, do you?’

‘No, ma’am.’

‘Now Danny,’ she put her fingertips under my panties, and eased them down twice as fast as a galloping snail. ’I know you know something about it that we don’t. What I’m asking, is,’ my panties were just about clearing the hump of my bottom which shook because some invisible person poked them with a live wire. I didn’t have any choice. I ground myself a little into that lap. I tried not to, but I had to a little. ‘Do you know anything that would actually help Gregor improve security around here?’ And they cleared.

‘No… no, Ma’am.’ It’s hard to talk without oxygen.

‘I thought so. Matron’s just mad. Still, you have no doubt been terribly naughty.’ The panties were well past my bottom now, but Evelyn leaned over to ease them all the way down to my ankles. Her breasts, bigger than mine, brushed against my back. ’I know you must have been involved somehow. Maybe you didn’t know it,’ her torso popped erect, then one second later her left palm popped against my right cheek. It was more shocking than painful. It wasn’t even painful, more like a jolt of that live wire, but my head bounced like she had caned me. I sucked in air. It’s hard to be depressed when you have to suck in air to live. ’But you should have known something and reported it. So, I’m afraid, I’ll have to spank your bottom pink,’ SMACK. ‘and let this be a lesson to you!’

Smack… smack… smack at a steady pace. I could feel her stomach and hips through her shirt and skirt rotate to give her rising and falling arm all the force it wanted to smack smack smack one cheek then the other then back again, each one producing a pulse that made the thousand hairs on the back of my neck flare.

My head bounced with each smack.


‘Ahhhh… Danny Archer’s nicely toned bubble butt. Do you mind me calling you “Danny“? I can’t very well call you Danielle because that’s Gregor’s first name.’ Smack. Smack. Smack… ‘My favorite bottom, hands down. (SMACK!) Ha! But really, I feel a pride over it. When you got here your glutes were flat and just blah.’ Smack… smack… smack… now my whole body bounced with each spank. I was not being beaten or tortured. She kept on talking and spanking. ’But after three years, the Coach and I have honed your rear end into something… I wish I was as good at finding words as you.’ Smack smack smack smack. ‘Something with a lot of syllables. Ah, that’s it.’ Smack… smack… smack… smack…. smack… ’Your fanny is ostentatious. Like you.’ Smack… SmackSMACKSMACKSMACK…. SMACKSMACKSMACKSMACKSMACKSMACKSMACKSMACKSMACK.

I found myself bucking over her lap. Grinding like a whore. I screamed out a mewling purr, which is something I’ve never done before and still not sure how I do it today. From my end of the joint venture it’s more an art than a science. I let go of the chair legs and dug my nails into Evelyn’s toned ankles. Harder I dug the harder and faster came the spanks.

And was I ever being spanked. Evelyn spanked my naughty bottom. She didn’t wail, or beat, or torture, or even punish my ostentatious bottom. She disciplined me by spanking me for going out of control ostentatious.

I was being spanked.

Time somehow kept rolling on without me as a witness until lightning struck me and every single intrusive thought or stomach wrenching negative emotion flew out of my body to ports unknown. I knew what I had to do. I found myself breaking free from Evelyn, backing up a step, and charging her. I grabbed her by her perfect hair and by the arm she had spanked me to tears with time and time again, and brought her to the floor in a simple wrestling move.

I penned her helpless, and tried to swallow her head. Helpless as she was, she was bigger and stronger than me, and she tried to swallow me back, so we struggled on the ground of her dorm room for a couple of hours in a pitched stalemate until passing out.

I still say I won.

* * *

Good and evil are tricky Platonic Forms to those of us whose grasp of noumenals is driving off the fourth dimensional rails on a crazy train. The female fixing my tie was, without a doubt, evil. She was Evil-Lyn. If you put all the Lyn’s of the world in one auditorium, you could spot her raised hand by asking in a microphone, “Hey, anybody here like the smell of brimstone?” But doesn’t evil have a place?

I try to be multicultural.

‘So,’ I began, not knowing were I was going.

‘Yes?’ She asked. Evelyn seemed unconfused, at least with me, but she wasn’t satisfied with my tie so she pulled it out and tried again. I didn’t mind. I sort of liked how strong she was about it, shaking me back and forth like a tree in the wind. Hands tying down my neck like she owned it.

‘Well, you know…’

‘What? Damn it, that Windsor never put a tie on someone else, I can tell you that… sorry. What, sweety?’

Sweety? What the Hell did that mean? Endearing, or dismissive? Then it clicked.

‘You’ve never put a tie on a girl?’

‘No.’ She snorted as if I’d ask if she’d ever unified quantum mechanics with the general theory of relativity. Instead she worked my tie. I watched it dawn on her perfect but not so quick face. Her eyes met mine when her mind met a conclusion. ’I’m not some lesbian taking advantage of you girls.’

‘I didn’t think that, but…’

‘I’m not even sure I’m a lesbian.’

‘Myself,’ I confessed. “It never even occurred to me until you said the word.’ I bit my lip. She pried my lip out gently but firmly. Her fingers were stronger than my lips.

‘Bad habits need to be nipped in the bud. You don’t want to callus your lips. At least, I don’t want you to, so you wont.’ She awkwardly returned her hands to my tie, but she didn’t get back to work. She kept her eyes on me.

‘So,’ I said. ’I would like… I am curious as to your opinion of a plan of mine, which is rather hard to explain because it involves a lot of data I don’t have yet, but I’m very open to, involving problematic adaptations in this transient world; this plan not wholly dictated by any one agent or force of will, but instead requires the consent of a small oligarchy, practically a limited liability partnership, as to the future course of upcoming events, plots, preparations, stratagems, and end-game game theories; for example, Prisoner’s Dilemma.’

I think Evelyn broke my syntax bone when I was winning our fight on the floor.

The evil girl smiled at me. It was both awesome and condescending. Made me a little mad.

‘Or whatever. You know. What-ever. I’m just saying that I have homework so I can’t just stand here all day being pushed around while you fix my tie if you…’ Evil-Lyn let go of my necktie, grabbed my neck, and forced me to caress her shoulders while she kissed me for a couple of minutes, the pushy bitch.

After a couple a million minutes she pealed me off and gave me that knowing smile. ‘Anything else you want to say, big mouth?’

‘Yeah. Nice Liz Phair poster.’

‘Eh, it has a tear in it. I covered it with tape, but I know it’s still--’

Somebody knocked on the door. Damn it, Superman, by now you should know the difference between a cry for help and a cry of ecstasy!

Evelyn was at my ear in a flash of whispers. ‘I just whipped you unmerciful.’ And was at the door. I got into character, stood straight, let my crest fall, as I was broken, and rubbed my pink bottom which felt like it was made of a candy coated beach drenched in moonlight enriched Van Morrison air fantastico.

‘You done with her?’ Matron Gregor asked from the sill, holding a large plastic bag.

‘Yes, Ma’am. She doesn’t know anything. She said “stop” plenty, but I kept giving it to her to give me what I wanted. She screamed plenty, but nothing she said justified an end to the exercise, from my perspective, so I think I pushed her beyond the limits. She was a bit of wild horse at first, but I broke her.’

‘Good. You did go over everything.’

‘Every inch of the objective, ma’am.’


‘It took a lot of sweat and wrestling, but I made her yell until she was putty in my hands. She gave me everything she had, but nothing substantial. About St. Croix.’

Gregor nodded. ’I can see you really worked her over. Your uniform is a mess.’ Evelyn straightened her uniform. ‘Archer. Did Trustee Evelyn teach you something about keeping secrets?’

‘Yes, ma’am.’ I was crestfallen. ‘No more secrets, ma’am.’

‘Good.’ She looked me up and down and damned if she wasn’t impressed. Gregor looked at my favorite trustee and smiled. ’Very good. Exhausting a compliant girl like Archer without certain knowledge of malfeasance took will to duty. I’m going to begin teaching you the cane, and higher administration basics, Trustee Gruber, if you think you’re ready.’

Evelyn’s back was to me, but not so much that I couldn’t see her grow three inches in height. That doesn’t make any sense to me either, but that’s what I saw at the time.

’Yes… Yes, Ma’am. I’m ready, ma’am.’

‘Good. Here,’ Gregor handed over the bag. I’d recognize the clink of Relief Cold Cream cans while traveling in the Hindenburg on a bad day. ’Come to my office in one hour. Are you sure you’re done with this one?’

‘For the moment, ma’am.’ Gregor smiled Wicked Witch of the SS style, then closed the door behind her. We did it as if it were planned. I bit her neck and she bit my palm. Clutched such, We rode out our craving for laughter until I needed a damn good nap.

‘You broke me?’

‘Had to, I wanted to make an omelet. Hey,’ she lifted my chin with her beautiful spanking fingers. ‘No more secrets.’

‘Not about us. But I’d never rat on another girl…’ She kissed me.

‘I’d never ask. We’ll figure out how this works, but I’d never ask. Besides, that’d take the fun out of the snark hunt.’

‘Well, I have to ask. What’s with the bag of Relief? May I use one of the cans of Relief on your caned chastised caboose while I seduce you with awful alliteration?’ I had a can of Cloud on me, but I’d rather snoop.

‘Later.’ She flicked my nose. Adorable. Almost as adorable as my ears. ‘Confiscated cold cream is put back into circulation through the trusties. We get a dollar a can, the rest goes to the school’s investments. Mutual Funds, gym equipment, crap like that. I love social capitalism.’


‘Yeah. Why?’

‘Let me think.’ I’d never heard that before, and something like that I should have heard by now. And that third account that I couldn’t get out of my head. One dollar… that fit a consistent yet unexplained depreciation between the second and third money flow marks, as I call them. I’m not a real accountant, as the school teaches homespun household accounting, so I had to make up my terms of art. Upton Sinclair sold the cans at thirteen dollars, which meant they bought at ten. One dollar to the trusty, I mean goonlet, would leave Gregor one dollar. Except the numbers were way too high. Not nearly that many cans are confiscated. And why only the Relief brand? There were a dozen others that got confiscated.

‘What is it?’

‘Oh. Nothing. How long has this been going on?’

She smiled at me.

‘Snoop! Mind your business. Go do that homework you told me about.’ She whirled behind me, held me by the shoulders, and walked me slow to the door I didn’t want to exit, but only because she was licking my adorable left ear.

‘Homework? I only said that because I couldn’t think of anything else to say.’

‘I know, but do you have homework?’

Damn it!



‘Yes, ma’am.’ Man it’s sexy saying that.

‘Stop.’ She snapped my skirt up and pulled my panties down with cold efficiency, all with her face in mine, her hands working across my hips which tingled in delight like my adorable ears. ’One for forgetting to call me “ma’am”, one for your homework equivocation.’ SMACK SMACK from her hand on my butt, pushing each time my face closer to hers. I wanted her clothes off.

Evelyn spun me around and enveloped me with a behind the back hug, and nuzzled my adorable ear with her nose. ’Later we’ll talk about this prisoner’s dilemma. Daddy has work to do.’ She pulled up my panties, adjusted them just the way I just then realized I liked it, then snapped my skirt.

‘But my tie is loose.’


‘Just because I felt like it. Now scoot!’

I scooted, which was strange since I couldn’t feel my knees.