Author's Note
Risk Versus Reward is a prequel to Girl Friday and focuses on the story of Karin, the 'H.R. Lady' who provided Charlotte's rather unique interview experience when she was hired. You do not need to read Girl Friday to understand what's going on in Risk Versus Reward. But if you enjoy this story, Girl Friday should most definitely be on your reading list.
In the last chapter, Karin awakes in the middle of the night to find Headmistress Hendricks along with a pair of masked apparitions who have come bearing the gift of strap-ons for herself and Desi. Desi believes her impaler is everyone's favorite P.E. teacher, Mistress Nguyen and Karin suspects that hers is the attractive woman she knows only as Miss Spiced Latte.
After a restless night, the girls opt for an easy day of classes. But easy is a relative term at The Academy.
I hope you enjoy Karin's continuing story.
WaxPhilosophic
* * * *
Chapter 10: Other Academic Pursuits
I had awakened with good intentions, I really had. I was going to drag Desi and Celia off to Contemporary American Literature and the three of us were going to study the literary greats, I suppose so that when our dominants wanted to discuss existentialism and semiotics against the backdrop of the post-world war two class struggle in inner-city America, we would be ready for that. That was my thought anyway. But by the time we finished calisthenics and breakfast, in that order, all I was really ready for was a nap. And despite all of the choices afforded to us here at The Academy I did not see napping displayed on any of the flat-panel monitors outside the classrooms this morning. So I convinced Desi to take the next best option -- study hall. It wasn't actually displayed as study hall, I think the actual words were individual study, but it was close enough for me.
Though study hall at The Academy was more of a free-form learning environment for the expansion of the student mind. At least that's how our study hall monitor described it. Her name was Miss Smith, but I couldn't stop myself from thinking of her as Miss Pink. There was just something about her mannerisms that reminded me of the first woman I went down on under the table at yesterday's luncheon, and she was attired in a similar flowing lightweight cotton dress. There was a lot of flowing going on with Miss Smith, in fact she is what I would call a flowy kind of a gal with her long blonde hair, dangly jewelry, and ever so slightly far-away look in her eyes.
"So Karin, Desi, have you lovely girls decided what you'd like to expand you minds to today?" She actually said that, expand your minds to. I had to bite my lip, because the first thought that popped into my head was,
Is expanding your mind what usually comes after the late night expanding of your orifices?
But I managed to keep that under wraps, and after digging my elbow into Desi's side she did to.
"Um, I'm not sure Miss," I said. "See, we had kind of a full day yesterday ... I guess I was just looking for something light."
"Yes, Miss," Desi said. "Very
full
."
I elbowed her in the ribs again and fortunately she stopped with the innuendo or I was seriously considering sterner measures like reminding her of Mistress Nguyen's special remedial Kegel exercise class this afternoon.
After a short discussion this morning in the shower, we had both decided that it was indeed Mistress Nguyen in the spooky mask last night who seemed to be hell-bent on impaling Desi hard enough to tickle her lungs with that strap-on. Desi said she managed to run a finger across her abs and couldn't think of anyone else who was that ripped. I figured she was probably right since I thought I heard a slight intonation of that accent I can't quite place as she was whispering all of her deviant desires to Desi that night. I still hadn't figured out my impaler yet, other than her choice in perfume, but it was definitely still on my to-do list.
"How's you butt, Baby?" I asked. Miss Smith had left us alone for the moment while she flowed off to fetch something.
"Used. Yours?"
I nodded, but said nothing. Miss Smith was back and with a cart loaded up with colored bottles and brushes of various types and sizes, along with glitter believe it or not. She clapped her hands together and stood smiling at us like her idea was so brilliant that it should be quite obvious to us by now. It wasn't. Obvious that is. But after Desi and I got a chance to dive into it I think we both agreed it was pretty fucking brilliant -- particularly with glitter.
"Body painting, girls," Miss Smith said. "So which one of you is feeling like the artist?"
Desi and I just looked at each other for a moment and then shrugged simultaneously. I didn't know about Desi, but I felt that I made a much better appetizer tray than an artist. Neither one of us made a move to pick up a brush, but this did not seem to deter Miss Smith in the slightest. She selected a brush and placed it in my hand before I had a chance to protest, not that I wanted to get in the habit of arguing with my teachers here at The Academy. I felt I had already attracted enough attention as it was.
"Desi dear, please lie back on the table," Miss Smith said. "Karin, all you have to do is let your feelings flow from your mind onto the lovely canvas of Desi laid out here before you."
Miss Smith took Desi's left hand in hers and stroked it lovingly for a moment as if she were consoling her in the face of some difficult task. I understood as soon as I watched Miss Smith pull Desi's wrist to the end of the table and secure it with some sort of strap.
"I'm going to do your feet too dear," Miss Smith said as she finished securing Desi's hands. "We can't have our canvas slipping off the easel and bumping her head now can we?"
Miss Smith finished securing Desi so that she was spread out with a hand or foot at each of the four corners of the table, and then she grabbed the head end to flip it upward and display the captive Desi to me at a steep incline. The helpless maiden look really suited Des, she looked gorgeous.
I thought for a moment about my Desi-canvas -- yes that's another one of my made up words -- and wondered what I should paint on it. Something nice obviously, and probably a bit flowy since that seemed to be prevailing mood in the room this morning. I also wanted something that would be meaningful, an expression of the way I felt about Desi. I know we haven't been acquainted for very long and I probably have a tendency to make it out like she's always getting me into some kind of mischief, and honestly she probably is, but I do think I love her. Not like truly madly deeply I want to spend the rest of my life with you, but for a best friend I thought I could definitely do a lot worse. So I wanted to paint something special.
I picked up a brush, dipped it in some yellow paint and began painting a black-eyed susan on Desi's left breast leaving her nipple right in the center. I highlighted it with some orange and gold glitter and painted the center a nice dark brown. I thought it looked pretty good considering I didn't know what the hell I was doing.
"Very nice, Karin," Miss Smith said. "Now let your creativity
explode
onto your canvas."
The way Miss Smith emphasized explode and the way she stood right behind me -- close enough that I could tell by touch that she wasn't wearing a bra -- did little to hide the strong innuendo falling from her lips. I was easily able to translate her statement into,
I'm going to rub against you while you paint your naked friend here and think about the way you made me
explode
yesterday at lunch.
And that in turn made me think about how I'd really love it if just once any of these horny babes on the faculty would buy me flowers before they just assumed they could fuck me. But then again, that's pretty much what I had signed up for at The Academy, and if I'm being honest that's what got me excited and helped lead me to my decision to stay -- feeling that I was so alluring that these women could find it difficult to be in the same room with me without getting all handsy.
So I went with it. I leaned back against Miss Smith and let out a long sigh to let her know that I was appreciative of her efforts. And she did maintain a certain amount of decorum and shied away from any penetration -- content to just trail her fingers lightly over my skin as she caressed first my arms, then my tummy, and finally my thighs without ever deviating. It got to be that I was feeling incredibly relaxed by her touch and I think it helped me to let my creativity flow onto my canvas. It didn't exactly explode like Miss Smith had suggested, but it did flow quite nicely.
By the time I snapped out of my artistic trance and looked down at my Desi-canvas, she was covered in a profusion of wildflowers from her ankles to just below her chin. And the creativity was not the only thing flowing. I thought I might have to excuse myself to the restroom to get cleaned up, but Miss Smith was right there with what looked like the same white linen dinner napkin she had handed me under the table after lunch.
Oh my goodness, maybe she kept it for her collection like some kind of creepy fluid-obsessed stalker lady.
I held my lower lip between my teeth, waiting to see what she would do next.
"May I?" she said.
I had no idea what it was that she was asking, but of all the faculty I had encountered so far here at The Academy she seemed to be an example of one of the tamer ones, so I nodded.
Upon witnessing my affirmation Miss Smith plunged two fingers between my thighs and pressed deep within me. I shuddered. She was gentle enough about it, but I was still pretty raw from the wild ride that my Spiced Latte Goddess gave me last night. Miss Smith brought her fingers to her lips and began to swirl her tongue over them, pulling my juices into her mouth one finger at a time.
I looked at Miss Smith, and she looked at me, and for a moment we both froze with wavering eyes. I would probably still be entranced to this day if Desi had not chosen that moment to suddenly and rather rudely clear her throat. That's when Miss Smith brought the dinner napkin to her lips and carefully blotted them dry.
"Thank you Karin, I've been hankering for a taste of you ever since yesterday," Miss Smith whispered. "You have quite a lovely flavor, and I can see why you're so popular."
What? That's it? Thanks Karin, you taste really good. What about the wavering eyes, the wandering hands? Shouldn't we at least exchange phone numbers?
I sighed.
But then when it was my turn to be strapped to the easel with Desi holding the brush, I watched Miss Smith give her the same wandering hands treatment, and that's when I began to feel a little less special. And when the flowing Miss Smith pressed the same two fingers between Desi's thighs and dabbed her lips with the same napkin, I knew then that I was just another student here at The Academy.
"So what do you think?" Desi asked.
"Huh?"
About what? About being a sex toy for the faculty? A nipple for Mistress Nguyen to slap and twist, a platter for Miss Chowdhury to wrap and decorate or a taste for Miss Smith to pull forth and sample?
"My artwork," Desi said. "I know it's my first time, but I think it's pretty good, don't you?"
I had been so preoccupied with my thoughts about Miss Smith that I had hardly even glanced at what Desi had been working on for the past hour, but when I finally looked down I smiled. Desi had turned me into a cat. I had a lovely pinkish-white tummy, a strip about as wide as my hand that extended from just under my neck all the way down to just above my pussy. I hadn't even remembered Desi painting down there. And outside of the boundary of my kitty-cat tummy were orange and black tiger stripes that wrapped around my sides and covered my arms and thighs completely. The orange had been bedazzled with a generous sprinkling of glitter so that it glinted in the light whenever I breathed.