The Correction Of Debbie Donovan Ch 10 11

Chapter 10: Shipwreck

At first, I thought he meant for me to sit right down on his cock, to impale myself on it. It was hard enough, and I sure was wet enough, but he guided me to the side and had me settle my soaking wet pussy on his firm, muscular thigh. I squirmed a little, a bit ashamed of my obvious sluttiness, and also because it felt

so

good. He took me by the shoulders and gently pulled me closer to his waist, and then brought my back down so I was lying back on his hot chest. Now, Mrs. Hammersmith's tits were almost in

my

mouth as she lay back with one arm draped over the top of the chair above her husband's head.

"Relax, Debbie," he said in a soothing, seductive voice. "You've had an exciting evening. You need to still your naughty heart; close your eyes, and enjoy the warmth all around you."

It was easy to do as he said. I closed my eyes, and made myself breathe slowly, taking in the wonderful scent of their perfume and sweat and sex. It was erotic; I had heard the word before, but had never really known what it meant. All my senses were filled with sex, and yet my urgent, itching horniness was subsiding into something deeper and more powerful. His hands rested on my waist while Mrs. Hammersmith's long fingers caressed my right thigh, and Miss Steeple's stroked my left.

"I think she'll learn better in a more relaxed atmosphere," he said.

"Of course, Sir," Miss Steeple replied quietly. "I can see now that she is easily over-stimulated."

"With punishment

still

applied," Mrs Hammersmith said, equally quietly, but a little less softly.

"Oh yes, she must still receive the full course of training and punishment," Mr. Hammersmith said; "just more...calmly."

"Of course, Sir," Miss Steeple said again. Her fingers were tracing a pattern from above my knee, along the inside of my thigh, not quite touching my bush, and then along the outside of my thigh, gently, slowly. Mrs. Hammersmith's fingers were covering a much smaller area, sort of gently flicking at the top of my right thigh, just on the edge of my bush.

He now placed one arm around my shoulders, and with the other hand, he began gently stroking my taunt breasts, tracing along their outside, running his palm a little more firmly over my hard nipples. Without further words, he put a hand behind my head and guided my lips to his. It was such a dreamy kiss. His lips were firm, but not rough, and his tongue took my mouth and owned it, occupied it. He was in me; there was such a feeling of

penetration

, it was like my first fuck, and I surrendered to it. My whole body went limp and yielding. I felt fingers on my pussy, in my bush, sliding along my pussy lips, and I opened my legs as wide as I could, eagerly offering myself to all of them, eagerly, oh

so

, eagerly.

It continued, even after he broke off that divine kiss. My eyes were closed, and I lay back against him with my breasts and upper body turned towards him. One arm was wrapped behind his neck, and my other hand pressed against his chest, while my hips remained straight.

"And you, Debbie, you must be much more attentive to your lessons," he said firmly, but gently.

"Oh yes sir, I will. I will," I moaned. "I'm so sorry," I whispered feeling an orgasm building in me at being addressed directly by him, of being the object of his concern.

"Don't be sorry, Debbie, just do better. And, what do you do with your panties?"

"Always wear them over the top of my garter belt and stockings, master," I replied as I felt my whole body twitch.

I could hear the sound of Mrs. Hammersmith kissing him, wet and sloppy, to impress me I guessed, and it gave me an entirely new thrill. Lying there, in his strong arms, with his beautiful, older women attending to me, made me feel like somebody. I felt as if I had arrived, and that I had already been accepted, at least by him. He was my master, there was no doubt about that after tonight.

I dared to let slip a slow, dreamy moan as his fingers ran up and down over my clit, down along my slit, and finally slid inside my waiting pussy. It felt wonderful. I wasn't faking it, I was merely expressing the way I felt. It wasn't like when Miss Steeple was playing with me; I didn't have to concentrate on anything. I only felt the pleasure, the unbelievable pleasure, of his masterful touch.

He continued, spending a little more time on my clit, and then pushing deeper inside me each time. No one had reprimanded me, so I continued to moan softly, letting him know how much I loved what he was doing to me, and I began thrusting my hips upwards to meet his fingers, hugging him harder all the time.

I smiled. In my very naughty brain, I was thinking that these women beside me, his women, were very beautiful and accomplished. But, they were also very old. I was young, and look how far I'd come with my master already. If I did as I was told, and if I learned to serve him with all my heart, then someday, I would be mistress of this fabulous household. They would be put out to pasture. Who was I to think such things -- a slip of a girl from the wrong side of the tracks who wasn't worthy to lick the bottoms of their feet? But, it didn't matter whether I deserved it or not; I wanted it.

Could he read my thoughts? At that moment, he increased his pressure with two fingers deep inside me. He made me forget everything as I convulsed and shuddered and practically screamed as the most wonderful orgasm of my life swallowed me up. It was like in the movies when you see a huge wave crashing over a ship and the people are rolled under and tossed and carried away. It was like a storm at sea, huge darkness with flashing bolts of lightning, and when it was done, I lay as limp as a rag against his chest, like some shipwreck survivor tossed, exhausted, and half-dead onto the shore.

###

After that, everything was very vague and dreamlike. I remember being washed by Miss Steeple and one of the servants in the shower. I was dressed, and then one of the big Wardonians carried me down to the car, where I slept on the short drive home.

When Miss Steeple woke me, I had a moment of confusion about where I was. My body felt all wrung out from sex, and sore in a few certain places. It frightened me, and I had an overwhelming feeling that I was in danger. I cried out and thrashed around. I felt stupid and unworthy, far out of my depth with these people.

Miss Steeple calmed me down, and brought me into the fresh night air. She then walked with me to my house. I was thinking, one way or another, I wasn't going back to Silvermill; I wasn't going to tell anyone. I was simply not going to do it. Maybe, I would just run away.

Miss Steeple introduced herself to my parents and apologized for bringing me home so late. She said Mrs. Hammersmith didn't like to stop when the writing was going well, and that I had done a wonderful job, and was a very hard worker.

My parents were stunned, and after she left, they freaked out a little. They were so happy and relieved I was working so hard and doing a good job. They didn't seem to notice I was about to drop at their feet from exhaustion. My mother kissed me on the forehead like she used to when I was a little girl, something she hadn't done since I started flunking out at school. Even my dad gave me a bit of a hug and told me to keep up the good work.

"You give those people everything they want Debbie, and maybe you'll make something of yourself yet." Those were the first kind words he had said to me for as long as I could remember.

I dragged myself up the stairs to my room, thinking, of course, I had to go back, no matter what might happen. I had to go back. Because, good or bad, it was meant to happen to me.

Chapter 11: School Picnic

MISS STEEPLE

I watched with amusement through the tinted glass of the limousine as Debbie emerged from the high school. She was dwarfed by the Wardonian six-footer beside her, and she looked more than a little confused and apprehensive. The statuesque, long-legged escort, was dressed in knee-length high-heeled boots, and skin tight uniform trousers. She made a constant effort to shorten her stride in order to stay even with the much shorter Debbie, who was hampered by a tight, ankle length skirt.

It was just the beginning of lunch hour, and it was a reasonably warm and sunny day for October. The steps and front lawn were crowded with students. The students might just as well have been cartoon characters for the broadness of their reactions at seeing a Wardonian in the flesh. They all gave ground, even those nowhere near her, and jaws actually dropped. Debbie's strange, outcast position would be reinforced now. The rumors about her would be amplified, but noone was likely to utter an unkind word about her anywhere within hearing distance. The Wardonian, exotic and frightening as she was on her own, also announced to all that DebbieMiller was under the wing of the all-powerful Hammersmith's.

"Miss Steeple!" Debbie exclaimed as the Wardonian ushered her into the car and closed the door behind her. "Is something the matter? Have I done something wrong?" she asked nervously. She automatically slid over to sit close beside me as she had been taught.

I looked at her darling, flushed face. Her hair was swept back and pinned up in a bun on top of her head. It was quite fetching for something she must have done herself. A few stray tendrils fell over her clear forehead, and although it was a cool day, a line of perspiration had already formed along her hairline.

I didn't respond immediately. I continued to admire her parted lips and white teeth as the limousine began to move. She was much better dressed today than at any time I had seen her before; less demure and more stylish. She wore a stiff blue blouse with an open neck, a very tight A-line skirt of heavy blue checked material, along with three-inch-heeled black pumps.

"Miss Steeple?" she prompted timidly.

"Nothing is the matter girl, and as to whether you have done anything wrong, that remains to be seen," I aloofly replied, but not sounding too stern.

"Oh," she murmured. She remained tense, sitting forward in the deep seat. She leaned towards me, and searched my face with her soulful, dark brown eyes. Believe me, after so much exposure to Dianne's glaring blue ice, they were a welcome relief.

"I do hope, for your sake, Debbie," I said at last, "you are wearing your panties properly."

"Oh, oh yes, mistress," her face split into a relieved smile. "I honestly am, just as Mr. Hammersmith instructed me." "Good. I will be checking for myself, but not at this moment. We shall have a bit of a picnic. I have some very nice things for you. I'll bet you're hungry after the strenuous time you had last night."

"Oh yes, mistress. I slept like a log and didn't have time for any breakfast at all."

"Well then, you can eat right away," I said as I looked her up and down again. "Best take off that blouse, just in case we have a sudden stop. You don't want to get anything on it."

"Yes, mistress," she replied without hesitation. She stood up a little so she could untuck it from her skirt before she unbuttoned it.

"Hang it on the hook in front of you," I instructed as I leaned forward to open the small fridge. "And, open your tray.

"You will find this tasty and very good for you. It comes from Smithcorp's nutrition labs," I explained handing her two small packets of crackers, and a large candy bar. "It may not seem like a lot..." I stopped. I noted she had torn open the packages and was devouring the contents without waiting for my explanation. Well, at least she didn't have any trust issues, or else she had a very unruly appetite.

The snacks were not commercially available at any price, and they were loaded with vitamins and a host of other ingredients I couldn't pretend to understand. I did know what they would accomplish, however. In combination, these snacks, along with all of the meals she would be served at Silvermill, would quickly increase her energy levels. They would also sharpen her senses, stimulate the growth of her breasts and hips, ramp up her already high sexual appetite, and infuse her with a general sense of well-being; although non-narcotic and non-addictive, once experienced, they were hard to do without.

Their purpose was to enhance her natural characteristics and improve her health. They were not for mind control or personality alteration. We liked to accomplish that the old fashioned way. It was Mr. Hammersmith's belief that love was the strongest drug in existence, and he was right in this, as he was in everything else.

She looked up a little sheepishly tucking the empty wrappers into the trash slots at the side of her tray. "They were delicious mistress. Thank you very much," she said with a very cute, and mostly genuinely ingratiating smile. She wanted to be loved too.

We were driven to a state conservation area just outside of town which was closed for the season. The co-driver got out, and quickly picked the padlock that held the swing-gate in place. It was then closed behind us after we drove through. The limousine stopped at the far end of the back parking lot, and parked crossways against the normal slots, so that the long high side faced the entrance.

"Come," I said as the driver opened my door.

Debbie scooted across the seat on her bum, and followed me to stand facing the dense forest. I knew she was bursting with questions. It was in her puppy dog eyes, and in the attractive breathless quality she had. She was having difficulty remaining silent. Although she had squirmed a little on the seat, she had held her tongue, accepting her lot without question, at least for the time being. The driver stood at the front of the vehicle, facing the woods, while her partner stood at the rear, watching the entrance; I left the long door open which provided another little bit of privacy.

With my back to the woods, I stopped her as soon as she emerged from the car. "Now, let's have your skirt off, girl," I said.

Her eyes widened with surprise, and she shot quick, nervous glances left and right. I raised one eyebrow, keeping my eyes locked on her, and it was all the warning she needed. Her hands flew to her back, as she bent and pulled down the long zipper of her skirt. Without further hesitation, she wiggled it down her hips, as she stepped out of it and held it with uncertainty in front of her.

"Put it on the seat," I said.

She turned and laid it on the seat, giving me an excellent view of her young behind, with her panties

correctly

over the top of her garter and stockings. I couldn't help giving her a swat anyway. She spun around quickly with a confused and anxious expression. "Isn't it right mistress?" she asked.

"Yes, you are dressed properly, girl, but you still owe me plenty for that debacle last night," I growled, dramatically removing the wide belt from my dress. "Now, help me with this," I added. I turned around as I indicated she should pull down my zipper.

DEBBIE

As usual, Miss Steeple was wearing a crisp and elegant dress. This one was a deep blue with a full skirt and a high neckline. I unzipped it and pushed it over her shoulders, then helped her step out of it. I carefully laid it on the big back seat of the limousine and turned to face her. It wasn't really cold for late September, but I shivered all over, standing outside in the open in my brassiere, panties and suspenders. My pussy had been excited from the moment the Amazon came summon me from class. I was really scared at first, scared and excited. Now, I felt so naughty, and Miss Steeple looked so sexy, I was more horny than scared. I couldn't wait to see what would happen next.

Miss Steeple had such gorgeous lingerie. Today, she was wearing a very simple, but elegant, black brassiere. It cupped her big breasts and pushed them together, as it lifted them upwards and made them appear round and full. I wanted to bury my face between them.

She also was wearing a long, black half-girdle. It began just under her breasts, then hugged her tummy and hips as it came well down her thighs. It was sheer, except for a fancy panel that covered the middle of her tummy, all the way down to her crotch. It had very short, wide straps attached to her dark nude stockings with their broad, black tops. It held them very firmly and precisely in place. The entire outfit was like her, crisp, orderly, and restrained. I remembered to keep my eyes lowered as I stood with my hands at my sides. I stared at the tempting open bottom of her girdle.

"Turn around and grasp the top of the door frame with both hands. Spread your legs and stick out your naughty bum," Miss Steeple commanded. It was a bit awkward, but I did my best to obey her. I found myself looking over the top of the limo roof towards the parking lot.

I gasped a little when Miss Steeple worked my panties down to the middle of my thighs.

"You have stained your panties, Debbie."

"Yes, Mistress."

"When did your pussy start to run?"

"Ah, the moment I sat beside you in the car, Mistress."

"Hmmmm," she said. I couldn't help jerking a little when I felt her finger running along my wet slit.

"Well, I see you haven't been playing with yourself. Good."

"Thank you, Mistress."

"You will begin carrying spare panties in your purse. We can't have you walking around with messy panties all day."

"Thank you, Mistress."

"This is for not paying attention to your lessons last night," she announced as she delivered five stinging blows with her belt to my upper thighs.

"Yes, Mistress," I panted once she stopped. I screwed my eyes tight, waiting for the next round. The slaps of leather had been quite hard and I really felt them sting.

I felt her cool fingers playing over my thighs where the hot blows had fallen. "Put your hands flat on the seat and stick your bum out," she said. Thinking fast, and wanting to please, I dropped my head into the car and braced my arms on the seat. I pushed out my bum and kept my legs shoulder-width apart as I was taught.

"Good," she said, and I blushed all over.

She worked my panties further down my legs until they were stretched tight from knee cap to knee cap. I waited, feeling strange with my bum sticking out of the car in the cool autumn breeze. I could smell the leaves and I heard birds chirping like I was at a picnic. But, I had never been at a picnic as delicious as this one before.

Miss Steeple's belt slapped my left bum cheek. Even though I knew it was coming, I couldn't help giving out a little, "ahh."

"Debbie," she cautioned sternly without raising her voice, and then, she delivered the second blow. I managed to grit my teeth on that one, but, the third one made me gasp. She really knew what she was doing with that thing. It was more of a flick more than a slap, and it stung like hell in a very small area. It was more painful than anything I had received from anyone so far.

She paused, but didn't touch the offended area with her cool fingers as I had hoped. "You really have to learn to control your reactions more, Debbie. Take a deep breath, relax your body as much as possible, and tell yourself that you will not show pain. Do you understand me, girl?"

"Yes, Mistress," I managed to reply, sucking in air through my nose with as little noise as possible.

I tried to do as she said, and I managed to take the next three strokes with little more than a tiny squeak on the last one. She ignored it, and I was once again rewarded with her fingers on my hot, naughty bum. She touched the small flaming hot areas, and then stroked out wider to feel the whole outer curve of the cheek before she let her hand come around the bottom and she slid a finger along my slit.

"You're wet," she said. Like I didn't know that. "Good." She ran her finger up and down pushing in on the lips, teasing. "Soon, we will able to get such a reaction from you with hardly any pain at all,"