But Mrs. Brewster must have become somewhat suspicious at all her hasty exits that morning, because the last time Karen left the room, apparently she was followed. And just as the unsuspecting young girl settled down into a perfectly dreamy rhythm of slicing three fingers up and down and in and out of her burning vagina and was almost on the verge of a beautiful fulfilling orgasm, the door to the cubicle had been jerked open, and there was Mrs. Brewster, a look of pure rage on her ordinarily placid features.
"So! Young lady!" the mortified matron had exclaimed. "This is how you look after yourself, you filthy minded creature! I might have suspected as much. And here I was coming to ask if you felt sick enough to go to the school nurse! Of all the…"
"Mrs. Brewster, I can explain…"
"No explanations are necessary! You will bend over at once and present your bare bottom to my belt, young lady! And be quick!"
"But Mrs. Brewster…" Smack! Her teacher had given her such a slap in the face that the pretty platinum-haired teenager had hustled to comply with her imperious directive, quickly slipping her white nylon panties down around her knees and spreading her legs so that she was bent over slightly with her hands planted flat against the wall over the toilet.
"Mrs. Brewster…" she had tried to protest again, but to no avail.
The enraged teacher's voice was harsh and firm and dominating! "You have misbehaved by masturbating here with your fingers deep in your cunt, Karen… and there is absolutely no excuse for you. A nice lady keeps her fingers where they should be, and to teach you that, I'm going to beat the devil out of you!"
As she spoke, Mrs. Brewster undid the thin black patent belt of her dress and buckled it up into a wicked-looking loop. Then she began slapping lightly at her bare pink bottom with the shiny side of the black leather belt.
But it hadn't hurt as much as Karen had expected and indeed after awhile it seemed merely a feather stroke – but a feather which was suffusing a deep warmth of enervating desire throughout her sensitive young loins with each small slap.
At first she couldn't actually believe it was happening, but it was true. For as Mrs. Brewster "spanked" her, her cuntal region began to feel more aroused rather than less, until finally she was squirming with desire and fairly gurgling with happiness, her moist cuntal furrow becoming all drippy and trickling thick white moisture down her shivering long pale legs.
"You will be good, you little wanton heathen! You will be good! Say it!"
"Oh yes, I'll be good, Mrs. Brewster! Please let me up! I won't do it again!"
"You'd better not, or I'll whip that smooth little bottom of yours, do you understand?"
"Oh yes, Mrs. Brewster! I understand! Only let me go! Please!"
And with that, the "punishment" suddenly ceased. Her teacher walked up behind her, threading her fingers into her thirteen year old charge's silky bright hair and fingering it as if it were money. Then Karen felt the older woman's hand smooth down over her harshly stinging buttocks, almost obscenely patting and manipulating her smooth young flesh.
"Is that better, dear?" the teacher asked cooingly into Karen's small, shell-like ear, her breath making the girl shiver.
"Yes – yes, Mrs. Brewster, I'll be all right now." And then she had struggled to her feet and managed to get her thin white panties on as Mrs. Brewster's hands continued to wander all over her quivering young hyper-sexed body.
"You know, you'll have to bring your mother to school, dear."
"Yes, I know."
Why had Mrs. Brewster kept touching her so knowledgeably and so boldly all over, Karen wondered. But she supposed that was just her way of comforting. Finally the mortified teenager broke from the little cubicle and ran sobbing from the girls' room, pausing only at her locker to pick up her coat and purse. Then she'd left the school building as fast as her legs would carry her, with Mrs. Brewster's voice still ringing in her ears, "Wait, Karen!"
She had been too ashamed to look back, and now here she was, walking down Central Street on her sorrowful way home.
She paused briefly to feed the pigeons in Wilmette Park, but she really couldn't think of much to do to further delay her arrival home. Maybe she should go home and take a nap, anyway. She would masturbate in her own bed much better, anyway.
"Hello little girl."
Karen looked around. There was a little old man seated at the bench next to hers in the park. Not only was he old, but he was very dirty looking. A classic dirty old man, in fact. With short grizzled white whiskers, rather beady blue eyes staring at her, and just a trace of spittle on his ancient lips. He was rather bent over, too, as if he needed a good month in traction to straighten him out. In fact, bent over like this he looked even shorter than she was.
"Hello," she said mildly, wondering why he had spoken to her. Surely he couldn't smell her perfume from all the way over there. Maybe he was just lonely. It couldn't hurt to talk to him.
When she said hello in response to his greeting he immediately shifted from his bench to hers. Now he crossed his legs and looked around, just a foot or so separating them on the park bench. Why did he keep looking at her like that?
"Like some nice candy, little girl?" he asked, rattling a little white bag at her.
"Sure," she said, letting him pour a handful of the white-wrappered candies into her hand, and thinking at the same time of the many warnings her mother had given her about talking to strangers. Surely, though, this guy was just being nice. She sat back against the back of the bench with the breeze blowing her fine platinum hair around her shoulders and her mini-skirt up over her well-formed thighs until the upside-down peak of her panties were showing where it covered her still throbbing pussy mound. Hurriedly Karen pushed her skirt down again, and then began unwrapping one of the pieces of candy from its wax wrapper. It turned out to be a sticky chewy sort of stuff, and she wasn't too fond of it, but on the other hand she wanted to be sociable.
"Y're out of school early, aincha?" the man said after a bit, edging closer to her on the warm wooden bench in the bright spring sunshine.
"Uh, yeah… uh, teacher's meeting," she stammered. God, she certainly couldn't tell him the real reason, could she!
Then suddenly the man slid the rest of the way across the park bench toward her and arched her shoulder with his bony arm.
"You're a nice little girl," he said, and Karen gave a muffled little cry and struggled to get away. But the man held her fast and spoke harshly in her ear. "Hold still, little girl. I just want to show you something I think you're going to like."
The old man cackled and Karen struggled even harder, but in vain. Suddenly he zipped down his pants and reached inside, pulling out the lengthy wizened shaft of his semi-rigid penis, and then reaching below it to drag out his almost shriveled testicles as well.
"See that!" he whispered, completely exposed now. "How do you like that!" And he grabbed her flailing hand and pressed it tight around the blood-swollen rod of his cock.
At first Karen was mystified. She had never heard of men who exposed themselves to young girls before. And my God, his penis felt thick and hot and hard, pulsing under her reluctant hand like a caged animal. But then after a few moments, the young teenager began to realize the potential danger of the situation she was in, and with a sudden wild scream and a violent lurch, she broke out of the man's temporarily relaxed grip. With her purse never removed from her shoulder, and her blonde hair flying, the frightened girl went running from the park without even a backward glance.
After that Karen must have walked for miles. The day had become quite balmy, and she went up Green Bay Road for a little bit trying to calm her nerves and get her breath back, then along the cobbles on Cockspur Street, and then later along Dobcroft Road in the direction of the lake.