Chapter 4: Consequences
Consider the bubbly, flighty giddiness of a pretty 18-year-old returning from a first date during which she's made out and gotten intimate and almost glowingly naked with a slender, handsome, virile smelling, young man. The independence and power of bursting pleasure she had been able to give him. How she'd overcome her fear of servicing his insistent cock, and it had been amazing. She'd even kissed it and made him spurt his stuff, and it had been exciting and not even too gross!
Her unnamed relief that the desires that she'd been made to feel so recently by the man--her Sitter--when he'd made her squirm and come while lying across his lap and handled and spanked her, these needs would soon be attended to by a grateful and virile boy. She'd become his girlfriend, and then she could tell Briana of all the naughty things he would make her do! She imagined the feeling of the boy's hands cupping her backside. Her bottom arched and felt like it was swelling, and she couldn't stop herself from imagining Tony's hand smacking the jutting roundness.
"No!" she edited her own thoughts. It won't be like that! He'll be a gentleman. Just one who knows how to "do me" really well.
Consider that girl, buzzing with sexual tension, stepping into the quiet, dimly lit house, expecting to go to her room unobserved without waking her aunt, strip off her rumpled clothing, toss them into the hamper, and scrub herself squeaky clean in the shower. And imagining getting herself off, too, for as good as Tony had felt, he hadn't been as attentive to her as she had to him. That would change next time, she decided, and plotted how she'd get him to pay attention to her own desires on their next date.
Consider the plunging sensation in the pit of her stomach, then, the dive from her high spirits to stomach-twisting panic as she hears the voice of the very man who recently shamed and sexually humiliated her address her from the darkened room.
"Good evening, young lady. Are you aware, perhaps, of the time and for how long I have been waiting for you?"
The light clicks on, and Andersen, sitting in a yellow armchair, glowers sternly at the girl. She watches him take in her messed-up clothing, chosen to be provocative and show off her body, made now even more inciting given the rumpled state of her blouse, several buttons of which she realizes are open, and a skirt which sits higher on her waist than intended, revealing way too much of her legs than she like at this moment.
"Time, Catarina? No idea? It's 9:42; which is as you know a full 82 minutes later than you were instructed to be home, which means I have been here for 97 minutes. Do you imagine I have nothing better to do than sit in a darkened room waiting for a disrespectful waif to return from... what exactly? What are you returning from, Catarina? Don't bother to lie. My binoculars were quite up to the task of observing you letting that boy have his way groping your body and you couldn't seem to keep your tongue out of his mouth. The only remaining question is whether you two had been FUCKING while I sat and waited for you!"
The thought of having been observed, and then the man's yelling that word and accusation petrified her.
"No!" she exclaimed, "I swear. We were just kissing."
He beckoned her to come closer and she did so reluctantly.
"Come here! You are shamefully disheveled, girl, you look you have been pawed by a whole team of boys! Did you say it was just one? What is his name?"
She answered.
"And how long have you known `Tony'?" She was ashamed to admit she'd just met him. "A few weeks. He's kind of my boyfriend," she lied.
"So, you've been letting Tony have his way with you for weeks?"
"No! I mean this was the first time we kissed. We have been taking it slow!"
"Catarina, don't make me out to be a fool. Nothing about your appearance indicates you have been taking anything "slow;" quite the opposite; it looks like you are a decidedly fast young lady. And we do know how greedy your girly bits get, firsthand so to speak, don't we?
She blushed at his words; he was reminding her she'd orgasmed shamefully as he spanked her bare bottom.
Andersen switched on a pair of additional lights and angled a lamp to illuminate the girl directly, as if under a spotlight, then coldly ordered, "Assume a Parade Rest stance, Catarina! You look confused; you don't know what that is? As an educator of young ladies, I practice my own variation of the military posture with which you ought to be familiar, wide-legged and downward looking as befits a well-behaved young lady! Now, hands behind your back, touching each elbow with the opposite hand, feet wide apart on the floor, twice shoulder-width, chest thrust out, head tipped down. Gaze towards the floor, or in your case, given they are in the way, at your breasts."
He took her wrists in his hands and guided them behind her back. She reluctantly clasped her hands near her elbows and opened her stance, feeling the tiny skirt ride up her thighs, but the man stepped closer and placed his palm high up against her inner thigh, a gesture chilling in its violation of her intimacy, patting it familiarly to make her open her legs even wider. The skirt was tight and inched higher as she spread her legs. She felt self-conscious, aware the man might be able to glimpse her lace-fronted panties under the hem of the short skirt riding up her thighs as it stretched between her open legs. She watched him as he walked slowly around her, examining her carefully.
"It is fortunate that your aunt telephoned to inform me of your breezing out earlier this evening, dressed like a little slut, in that flimsy shirt and ridiculously tiny skirt. She rightly surmised you were offering up your ripe young body to some horny boy. As you are so eager to experiment sexually, Catarina, we will see what you are capable of in more experienced hands, shan't we?"
Completing his circuit, he stood in front of her. Looking down at her own chest she saw him bring a finger slowly up to the front of her pale-yellow blouse and then introduce it into a gap in the cloth between her breasts which she was horrified to realize she'd neglected to close a button after getting out of the car. His fingertip found the bra-covered middle of her breast and he wiggled it, widening the opening and letting his fingertip gently stroke the lace covered beneath. He jabbed a finger into her yielding globe roughly, indenting it and making the full mound wobble under the gauzy shirt.
"Have your naughty breasts been getting exercised by 'Tony'? And the rest of that slutty, ripe little body?" chuckles Andersen.
"I dare say, we will have to check thoroughly, won't we?"
Continuing around her, he fingers the lower hem of her dainty blouse and the side of her skirt, lifting that higher on one side, baring a long expanse of thigh, then even further, exposing the side trip of her panties to her hip. He releases the skirt, which clings to her upper hip, now relieved of the stress of being stretched across her wide-open legs. The skirt drapes across her at an angle, slashing from high on her waist on one side to the top of her upper thigh on the other diagonally bisecting and exposing her panty covered pubic bulge.
She kept her gaze on the tops of her breasts, feeling tears form as the man commented, "And what Catarina do we make of these dry blotches on your blouse and skirt?" She shook her head mutely, remembering, aghast, the boy's uncontrolled spurting into her hand. "You don't know? I do, Catarina. It's dried sperm. And how did you manage to besmirch yourself with Tony's emissions?"
His taunting tone made it impossible for the girl to respond. He continued around her, hoisting the little skirt up in back, drawing it to her waist. She felt his hand on her now exposed, panty-covered bottom cheeks, palming and cupping the firm globes, squeezing and jiggling the soft, bulbous mounds.
"No spunk on your bottom Catarina? However did you manage to keep it from getting splashed?" he asks ironically, patting that exposed part of her anatomy, "It seems to always want to be part of the action!"