It's a Tully Halloween 7

By David

The author prefers not to display any email address. Please direct any feedback to puericil@hotmail.com and it will be forwarded

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This story is intended for ADULTS ONLY. It contains explicit depictions of sexual activity involving minors. If you are not of a legal age in your locality to view such material or if such material does not appeal to you, do not read further, and do not save this story.
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It’s a Tully Halloween!
By David
Part Seven – The Mystery of Mrs. Campbell

Samuel Oliver was in a dazzling, dizzying, disorienting daze. It was All Hallows’ Eve and following an evening of tricks and treats and even more tricks, the bewildered seventh grader found himself in the midst of a Halloween party like none he’d ever seen before; trapped in a house haunted by ghostly voices and eerie music, surrounded by a coven of costumed witches, he was the only boy in attendance … and the only attendee without a stitch of clothing to his name!

The naked child glanced at his reflection in one of the many mirrors scattered about his babysitter’s parlor. He blushed to see how young and helpless he looked in his birthday suit. At a glance he looked more like a bare-bottomed toddler than a seventh grade aspiring astronaut-soldier.

This is so stupid, the red-faced youngster thought to himself. I'm so stupid!

How do I get in these stupid situations??!!!

Before going any further I should first explain that while Samuel wasn’t wearing any clothes, he wasn’t completely nude, either. His babysitter and the proprietress of the “haunted” house, the infamous Mrs. Irma Tully, had an eccentric sense of humor, particularly when it came to teasing cute little boys; and with his shoulder length curly blond locks, watery blue eyes and plump, pouty lips, young Samuel was exactly the type of lad the mischievous matron loved to mystify and torment. Under her care the bashful preteen often found himself in situations ranging from the incredibly awkward to the downright mortifying. So when it came time to find him a suitable costume for her Halloween party, Irma saw to it that he wore something that would cause the bashful boy a bit of bother. If it so happened to show off his best assets for the amusement of her friends and peers, all the better!

And so it was that our reluctant hero found himself cursed with nothing more to wear than a miniature pair of pink feathered wings stuck right in the middle of his back. The wings looked about as silly as they sound; at full span the doll-like wings were tiny in proportion to Samuel’s twelve year old body, barely reaching the width of his shoulders; along with his curly blond hair and pale, plump figure, the ridiculous things gave him the appearance of cartoon cherub or a cupid.

Samuel really hated how foolish his new wings made him look and feel. Being naked was bad enough, but wearing pink wings? Real, feathery wings that were PINK??? That was the worst!!!

“Stupid wings,” the frustrated lad mumbled as he tried to get a glimpse of them over his shoulders. “They’re so darned little, I can’t get a grip on them to pull them off! I can barely even see the stupid things!”

Even if he could have reached the childish wings with his hands, Samuel would have never been able to remove them; they were attached to his skin with a very strong adhesive tape, a tape so strong that after more than a dozen spankings and a marathon tickling session, nary a feather was out of place. He would have hurt himself long before they would have begun to budge.

“Stupid wings! I hate them! I hate them I hate them I hate them!”

Lightly rubbing his aching bottom – the result of an epic spanking session unlike anything he had experienced before – Samuel brooded over the other sorrows he had suffered that evening. Wandering about in the dark, surrounded by spooky music and creepy voices while wearing naught but a pair of costume wings, sure, that was an admittedly scary experience; but being groped and pinched and molested by a bunch of creepy old hags with their toothy smiles and leering eyes and their tall pointed hats wagging about, that was just awful. And then getting his bare bottom poked and blistered for the amusement of such horrible, mean-spirited people, that was the absolute worst thing ever!

Everything is the worst thing ever, the unhappy lad lamented. This is whole Halloween has been the worst thing ever! I can’t wait for this night to be all over … I’m going to bed and crawling under the covers and I’m never getting up! Never ever ever!

That was a nice fantasy, but at the moment Samuel still had reality to contend with. Most immediately, his attention was drawn to the tall, statuesque figure that stood over him. It was Mrs. Simone Campbell, his homeroom teacher for the past year at Lincoln Junior High School; she also happened to be the object of our young hero’s lusty prepubescent desires.

“Happy Halloween, Samuel Oliver,” the deep, seductive words sent a sudden shiver down his naked spine. “My, oh my … what kind of trouble have you gotten yourself into this time?”

“M-M-Mrs. C-Campbell? But … but … wh-what are … are y-you d-d-doing … here …?”

Samuel stared with disbelief at his teacher. To be sure, Mrs. Campbell was the last person on earth he expected to attend one of his cruel babysitter’s peculiar parties. How she knew Mrs. Tully and why in the world would she even be there in the first place was total mystery to the baffled boy.

“I could ask you the same question, pretty boy.” The smiling woman looked down at Samuel and giggled. “Nice wings! So after all this time I finally get to see you for what you really are … a pretty little angel. Why am I not surprised?”

Samuel didn’t answer her question; truth be told, he couldn’t as he was so distracted by how his favorite teacher was dressed. At school Mrs. Campbell was typically attired in modest skirts and blouses or full-length dresses that did little to conceal her voluptuous feminine curves. It wasn't her fault she'd been blessed with large, pointed breasts the seemed to defy gravity, or a wide, shapely derrière that attracted the eyes of both men and women; she was merely the custodian of such gifts and as such she carried them with pride and confidence. It was no wonder that, even in her modest schoolteacher attire, she was the inspiration and envy of all the girls in his class and the subject of every schoolboy’s erotic daydream and fantasy.

But on Halloween the woman of young Samuel’s dreams looked even more gorgeous and voluptuous than ever. In keeping with the theme of Mrs. Tully's bizarre party, his favorite teacher was adorned from head to toe in a Gothic-style ensemble that was as exotic and elegant as its wearer. Whereas most of the other witches’ costumes were bulky and ragged looking, Mrs. Campbell’s silken gown was form-fitting and slinky, clinging to her wide hips, her narrow waist and expansive bosom like a second skin. A sheer black lace shawl hung loose over her bare shoulders and arms, hinting at the pale white skin underneath. Samuel was equally amazed to see that her macabre frock had an extremely low neckline, low enough to reveal the deep, dark crevice of her ample cleavage and almost low enough to see her nipples; he settled instead for staring at the outline of the erect protrusions as they pressed proudly against the gossamer thin material.

Holy crap, he thought to himself. This … this really is Mrs. Campbell? My … my homeroom teacher? I can’t believe how sexy she looks! She … she looks just like one of those women in my dad’s magazines! Oh my God! I can’t believe she looks like this! This really weird! Amazing … but weird!

Someone let loose an amused chuckle obviously meant to attract his attention. Samuel glanced over to see that ugly Old Lady Haggard smirking smugly and looking very pleased with herself. He’d totally forgotten ... the wicked old woman was a friend and mentor to his teacher. Of course she was ... now it all made sense! And judging from the gloating expression on her wrinkled old witchy face, that ugly hag obviously had something to do with this humiliating turn of events.

“Oh, he’s not an angel,” the old woman said with a self-righteous tone. “That’s a little devil if I ever saw one. A nasty, filthy ugly little devil, let me tell you!”

Samuel felt his lower lip stick out. After the beating he’d gotten from that old witch, he didn’t want anything to do with her ever again; unfortunately, what he wanted and what he would get were two completely different things.

“What’s the matter, little brat?” Gertrude Haggard’s voice was as ugly as her face. “Why so sad? You act like you’re not very happy. Are you going to cry for us Hmm? Hmmm? Of course you are, you little crybaby. You nasty, dirty little spoiled brat! Go ahead and weep for us … blubber like a baby and see where that gets you. That’s it … here come the tears. Oh yes … that’s it, cry for us, little sissy. Let everybody here see what a real live crybaby looks like! Here come the tears, right on cue! How wonderful, how delightful ... how very, very delicious, indeed ….”

Samuel bit his lip and he fought in vain to hold back the tears. He tried really hard to ignore Old Lady Haggard and her hateful words, but he never could help getting frustrated when she was around. For some reason the old crow seemed to really enjoy upsetting him and making him cry; it was like a hobby for her, something to occupy her time now that she was semi-retired from teaching. Reacting to her ugly comments and cruel words at this party, in front of his babysitter and her guests, was exactly what that hateful hag wanted and he did his best to not sob out loud.

I don’t wanna cry, but I can’t help it, Samuel thought as he wiped his eyes. Oooh, how I hate her! That ol’ bat is the meanest person in the whole wide world!

“Aren’t you going to say something, little brat? You usually have some smart aleck thing to say to me. How come you’re so quiet now?” Mrs. Haggard chuckled aloud, obviously enjoying her little game. “Come on, crybaby, say something sassy to me. Say something smart. Give me a reason to pull you over my knee again, why don’t you?”

Instead of engaging his tormentor, Samuel wiped his eyes again and glanced at his babysitter. That was a mistake. Looking quite ridiculous in her witch costume, Irma Tully had a happy smile on her fat face and she was dancing an equally happy dance; the rotund matron was obviously enjoying the party and she was taking a little too much joy in watching her friend taunt the naked boy.

"Oh, don't pay Gertrude any mind, baby doll," the cheerful woman sang. "She's just having a little fun with you. Her bark isn't as bad as her bite."

Samuel robbed his tender bottom and pouted. That’s not true, he thought to himself. Her bite is definitely worse than her bark!

Sighing in frustration, the rueful boy then turned back to face his teacher. In contrast to his deceptively kind grandmother and the despicable Old Lady Haggard, the glamorous Simone Campbell was much more pleasant to look at and, most important, she seemed a bit more sympathetic to his plight.

“Oh, I see how it is,” Mrs. Haggard said with a chuckle. “Be careful what you wish for, little brat. Pretty flowers have thorns, you know, and they often hurt more than you might think.”

Samuel Oliver ignored the old witch’s warning, focusing his prepubescent attentions instead on his beloved teacher. The pretty lady raised an eyebrow and let her red lips curl into a sly smile. Her lipstick was darker than usual, more of a blood red, which made sense as it was Halloween, after all; Samuel thought she looked more like a vampire than a witch. Likewise, her eyes looked different, too, made darker and more exotic and mysterious by an artistic application of eyeliner, mascara and makeup.

“Well, that was quite a show you put on for us when you came down the stairs, Samuel,” the bosomy teacher said with a flirtatious wink. “Do you always show off your pretty bottom to the ladies like that?”

Samuel frowned, his mind racing with a thousand questions. Something was wrong. He already knew that much, of course, but seeing his seventh grade teacher at his babysitter’s party was extra weird. Why was Mrs. Campbell even here? And how come she was acting so strange? Judging from the smile on her face and the way she was looking at him, she didn’t seem all that surprised to see him naked, much less naked in front of so many women at a Halloween party. And that outfit she was wearing … what teacher dressed like that?

This is really, really crazy, the bewildered lad thought to himself. Shouldn’t she be home grading papers or something?

Simone Campbell gave the blushing boy another little wink, her green eyes traveling up and down his body and lingering playfully between his legs. “What a mischievous little angel you are, Samuel Oliver! My goodness, running about in your birthday suit … showing off your pretty little tushie to so many lovely ladies … and letting them touch it? Oh, Samuel, you naughty, naughty little imp! I am so surprised at you! So surprised and disappointed. And here I always thought you were such a good little boy!”

Samuel’s teacher laughed in a very melodic, very ladylike way, setting her magnificent breasts to jiggle about in a very distracting manner. The wide-eyed boy wondered if she was wearing a bra; at such close range he could see no sign of one under the slinky material, which raised his excitement level even higher!

The smiling teacher seemed to be reading his mind. “Mmmm … you like my costume, hmmm? Isn’t it nice? I think it shows off my figure. What do you think?”

Samuel watched as the shapely woman arched her back just enough to press her breasts forward and in turn put a strain on the flimsy material; the delighted youngster’s eyes went wide as they locked in on the hard, conical nipples that pointed out toward him. They were so close he could have reached up and touched them; that thought made him blush even more.

“My oh my ... Samuel Oliver!” Mrs. Campbell laughed at her student’s befuddled reaction. “You bad little boy ... I wish I could take a picture of your expression right now. It’s hard for me to believe this is the same innocent little child who is always so well-behaved in my classroom. Whatever happened to you, running about naked and ogling ladies’ bodies like some sort of pervert?”

There was a long moment of awkward silence. Not a word was said, not even a “harrumph” from Old Lady Haggard nor a giggle from Mrs. Tully. None of the old ladies surrounding them made a noise, either. All that could be heard was the spooky Halloween recording echoing through the old house and the beating of Samuel’s heart.

“It … it’s n-not m-my f-f-fault,” the naked boy finally stammered. He hated being the center of so much creepy attention, but he felt forced into saying something. “I … I’m s-sorry, Mrs. Campbell, b-but … but I really don't like going ... without any clothes. I promise! My Nana ... Mrs. Tully ... she took them all away and made me look like this! I … didn’t want to … it’s not my fault!”

The anxious youngster tried to think of what else to say, how to explain the bizarre circumstances that had taken over his life, but his words failed him, he was in such awe of the tall woman before him.

“Now, Samuel, you don’t expect me to believe any of that, do you?” The buxom teacher shook her head and sighed a skeptical sigh. “Not your fault? Then why do you look like you’re having so much fun? I mean, I saw for myself how you pranced down those stairs, just as naked as the day you were born, and then you danced around and around like a pretty ballerina. I didn’t see anybody make you do that. All I saw was a shameless little angel having frolicking about and showing the world his pretty little bum!”

The coven of costumed witches all cackled and murmured in agreement, mocking the blushing child with lewd comments and insulting whispers. Blood raced to Samuel’s cheeks, making them hot to the touch. It was happening again – someone was accusing him of being the bad one, blaming him for making trouble and being naughty. Only this time it was his favorite teacher! That wasn’t how things were supposed to go, not at all!

Can’t she see, I was forced to go naked, he thought angrily. I don’t like wearing these stupid cupid’s wings and looking stupid and doing stupid things. None of this is my fault. Why can’t she see that?!

Mrs. Campbell touched the daydreaming lad on the nose, inadvertently causing him to cross his eyes and making him feel even more childlike than ever, as if that was possible. She gave a little titter and sighed.

“Aw, look at that sad, sweet little face. How adorable! What’s the matter, Samuel? Can’t you give me a little smile? Aren’t you at least a little happy that I’m here? And here I thought I was your favorite teacher!”

The blushing boy started to say something, anything … just something to explain himself and make things better … but again, he could not come up with the right words. All he could do was look up at his teacher with hopeless, shiny eyes and sniff back a tear.

“Aw, what’s the matter? Did the cat get your tongue? After our conversation at school this afternoon I would have thought you’d be glad to see me,” she slyly purred, her bottom lip sticking out in a make-believe pout. Her eyes dropped down to gaze upon his privates. “I guess not. I guess Mr. Dinky is too scared to come out and play, hmm?”

Samuel looked down as well. Recalling his last talk with his teacher that very afternoon, he remembered how he had to hide his erection under his notebook. Now, standing completely naked before her with his hands dutifully behind his back, his dumb penis had shrunken down to a mere vestige of its former self. Apparently getting his butt beat by those horrible witches had tempered its enthusiasm, causing it to withdraw and hide in the crevice between his thighs, safe and sound.

At least I had on pants the last time she looked at me like that, the anxious lad thought to himself.

“Oh look! There he is! He's peeking out at us! Hello, Mr. Dinky! Don't be scared! It's just little Samuel and a dozen or so of his closest friends,” the smiling woman sang with a laugh. “Oh dear, the poor little thing must be afraid of something. It can't be me, can it? Hmmm?”

Samuel winced as the whole room erupted in laughter. For a moment he’d forgotten about the other ladies, all adorned in their ridiculous costumes and creepy masks. There were still three or four “witches” standing in line behind his teacher, not to mention the host of others looking on from all sides of the room.

“Don’t be ashamed, Samuel,” the pretty teacher teased. “I like your little dinky doo. It’s so small, if I didn’t know any better I’d have though you were a girl. Isn’t that funny? Oh my goodness, now isn’t that a fun idea? If you pretended to be a girl, I mean? Oooooo … what fun that would be! You’re so pretty, even with no clothes on you look just like a pretty little girl! That is just marvelous!”

“Oh, he is a pretty one,” interjected Mrs. Tully. “He’s so pretty, he’s my pretty pretty sissy, that’s what he is. So pretty … so sweet … how can you not love such a pretty little sissy?”

Mrs. Campbell let loose a little titter of a laugh, so light and musical that Samuel was caught off guard. “Ooooo … I like that! Is that true, Samuel? Are you a sissy boy? Hmm? Is that what you are? Are our pretty little sissy? Hmm? Hmmm?”

The whole room erupted with laughter at the blushing boy’s expense. He was so mad he almost said something that would have gotten him a spanking.

It’s not fair, Samuel thought to himself. I wish Mrs. Tully would shut her mouth! She makes fun of me and everybody laughs. She’s even got Mrs. Campbell calling me a sissy! But if I say the wrong word … I get my butt blistered!

It’s just not fair!!!

The annoyed child clenched his fists as he fought the urge to run away and hide. Surrounded by such an attentive audience and with no clothes on, there was nowhere to go, of course, and he knew that; he had little choice but to stand there and endure their incessant mockery and teasing.

As if things weren't uncomfortable enough, Samuel watched with surprise as his teacher reached out and pulled the hated Mrs. Haggard close. She put her arm around the old woman's waist and gave her an affectionate, loving hug. In turn the old crow shot him a simpering, self-righteous sneer, which cut him to his very core. Samuel felt sick, standing naked before the two women, the one he admired most and the other he feared more than anyone else alive.

“Now isn't this cozy,” cooed the ever elegant Mrs. Campbell. “Remember what I told you, Samuel? Didn't I say the three of us should get together and have a little fun? Why, it was just this afternoon that I said that, wasn’t it? Isn't that amazing? That is quite a coincidence, wouldn't you say? Who would have thought it would be so soon?”

“What a coincidence, indeed,” ugly old Mrs. Haggard said with a sour, smug smirk on her lips. “Indeed, who would have thought it would be so soon. My favorite student … and a bratty little sissy from her class ….”

This latest twist was not at all to Samuel’s liking! How could his favorite teacher have such high regard for such an awful person? How could she do that to him, to be such good friends with his hated enemy?! Didn't she understand just how evil, how mean, how utterly despicable Old Lady Haggard could be? He just couldn't believe it! For those two people, who were at opposite ends of the universe as far as he was concerned, to be so intimate and to have so much in common ... that should have been impossible; but our unfortunate hero was there to see it for himself.

Samuel blinked back an embarrassed tear. That’s when he realized his favorite teacher and the old witch shared a common bond of maleficent intent.

“Just so you know, Samuel, for several months now I’ve heard all about your wonderful adventures with your grandmother,” Mrs. Campbell said in loud voice; Samuel was reminded of how she sounded when she was teaching class.

The tall woman reached out and pulled the naked lad close. She ran her fingers up and down his bare arms, causing him to give a little shiver. A churlish smile curled her lips and she caressed his cherubic face, combing his long blond locks over one ear with her exquisitely manicured fingers.

“My dear friend Mrs. Haggard here kept me updated on your visits to Mrs. Tully. She told me all about how much fun you had together during her visits, how you loved running around without any clothes and playing all sorts of fun games. I must say that I became quite jealous.”

There was a moment of silence as what Samuel's teacher told him sunk in. Just how much did his teacher know … what did she really know … about what went on between him and Old Lady Tully? The bewildered boy furrowed his brow.

“You … you were … j-j-jealous?” he said, his faltering voice barely a whisper. “Of what?”

Mrs. Campbell giggled. “Why, of not being there to join in all of the fun, you silly thing! I mean, you are my favorite student, you know. I was shocked, shocked, I tell you, to hear how much my own little Samuel Oliver, the teacher's pet, loved running around bare bottomed naked when he wasn't in my classroom and showing himself off to his elders. I mean, can you blame me for not being jealous?”

The bosomy teacher let loose a hearty, womanly laugh, causing her massive breasts to jiggle about beneath her slinky gown. She looked slowly down at the naked lad and giggled again, giving another chance to watch her bouncing bosom.

“At first I couldn’t believe such a nice, polite little boy would do such a thing! I thought perhaps it was some sort of sick joke or ugly story. Surely MY Samuel wouldn’t be so naughty, but Mrs. Haggard insisted it was all true. She told me about all sorts of naughty things you did, things that really surprised me. At first I didn't believe any of it, but if there's one thing I know about Mrs. Haggard, it's that she never, ever lies.”

Samuel’s face burned hot as his teacher continued to laugh at him. He glanced over to see Old Lady Haggard looking him dead in the eyes. The wicked old crone gave him a very witch-like wink and a wicked smile that said “I win and you lose!”

Oh, he was so mad! He wanted to protest, to argue, to say something – anything! – in his defense, but he had nothing. That Old Lady Haggard was always getting over on him! A wave of nausea swept over the furious lad as he remembered all of those slaps across the face she gave him and those totally unnecessary spankings with that godawful hairbrush. And then there was the time she jerked him off in front of his friend Marlene. And what about when they got into an argument and she threatened to turn him into a girl using a pair of scissors? Samuel wondered if Mrs. Campbell knew any of that. That would be just awful! But what if she did know? Would she be outraged? Would she be offended? Wouldn't she defend him, her “favorite student,” the “teacher's pet”? He liked to think so. He wanted to think so.

But ... he paused for a moment. What … what if ... she approved?

Ooooo ... he hadn't thought of that! His teacher obviously loved Old Lady Haggard; she said as much. So … what if she approved of the horrible things the old witch had done to him? What if she ... she actually LIKED what she heard about the things Mrs. Tully did to him and – dare he think it? – what if that was what she meant when she said she was “jealous”? What if she was jealous because she missed out on making him go naked and all of the face slappings and spankings and … well, all the rest. It wasn’t that far-fetched, he reasoned. After all, the way she'd acted so far that evening it seemed that she thought what Samuel was doing was both fun and funny. What if she really … liked … all of those awful things that kept happening to him?!

Samuel clenched his bottom cheeks together as tight as he could as he played out the possibilities in his mind. Was it possible ... that Mrs. Campbell and Mrs. Haggard and – God forbid – Mrs. Tully were all co-conspirators together ... and they had all devised a plot to ruin his Halloween? Would they ... could they ... be working on a plan to ruin his life? Was it possible? Was it likely? Or was this all just a product of his overactive imagination?

I mean, didn't that just sound too bizarre to be true?

A glance at one of the decorative mirrors hanging on the wall of Mrs. Tully's parlor gave Samuel pause. The wide-eyed, bewinged child staring back at him reminded him just how crazy life could turn out to be; if a twelve year old boy could be tricked into showing up for an old ladies' party wearing nothing but a pair of little pink wings – as looney as that sounds – then sure, anything was possible. His teacher just might enjoy seeing him be miserable. She obviously took pleasure in seeing him naked, that was for certain. After all of the crazy, unlikely and unlikable things that had happened to him over the past several months, Samuel had learned that anything and everything was possible ... especially if it had to do with Mrs. Irma Tully and her weirdo friends!

Samuel’s teacher made a soft cooing noise. He blinked, then looked up. Her deep green eyes and the odd twist in her blood red lips confirmed his suspicions; she obviously knew far more than she was letting on, and she was enjoying herself way too much for his comfort.

“As you can imagine, Samuel, I became very curious about what you were up to after school. So when I heard about your ... grandmother's ... Halloween party, I just had to come here and find out for myself. And now, after seeing the little show you put on” – she gave a little giggle and smiled happily – “I’m certainly glad I did. You make a very pretty little angel. And such a pretty little sissy boy. I can’t wait to see what other kinds of mischief you get into.”

Samuel didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t even know how he felt: confusion, excitement, shame and awe, all of these hit him at the same time, making his head spin until he was dizzy to the verge of vertigo.

I’m feeling kinda sick, he thought to himself. I really need to go to the bathroom ….

The fact was, from the first day of junior high school the smitten twelve year old fell in love with the voluptuous Mrs. Campbell and he secretly lusted after her and her feminine attributes; those amazing, gravity defying torpedo-shaped breasts defined female authority in his mind and that magnificent feminine butt was impossible to avoid staring at. Together they were the subject of many a wet dream!

But now it was Samuel’s turn to be the object of the scrutiny. Where he once stole naughty glances at his teacher’s body, he was now the one put on display for her amusement. To be presented naked before such a powerful, important figure in his life and endure her leering gaze and wolfish smiles and to hear her openly tease him and make little jokes about such private things … that was an overwhelming experience to say the very least.

I feel so dumb, the blushing boy lamented. And Mrs. Campbell must think I’m even dumber than I look! How can I ever go back to school and face her in class after she sees me looking like this … without any clothes and acting like a stupid little baby. She’ll always remember me like this … I just know it!

Mrs. Campbell suddenly cleared her throat, breaking Samuel’s train of thought. He watched as the elegant instructor gracefully took her seat on the sofa, carefully placing her wide, satin-covered bottom on the cushion and adjusting her dress as if she were a movie star preparing for a photo shoot. He couldn’t help but stare at her bounteous breasts as they waggled about underneath the thin black satin, nor the imprint of her pointed nipples pressing outward. A flash of guilt hit him as he glanced up to see her sloe, smoldering eyes looking right at him; a mischievous smirk twisted her perfectly painted lips.

“Well, pretty boy? You’re not going to keep me waiting, are you? Come over here and lay across my lap like a good little sissy and let's have some fun.”

“Um, wait for what …?” Samuel blinked. “What ... kind of ... fun?”

The seductive teacher lowered her eyelids and smiled. “Your spanking, of course. You let everyone else have a turn, so now it’s mine.” She patted the top of her thighs with both hands and raised a single eyebrow for his benefit and his alone. “It is myyyyy turn, isn’t it? Come over here and bend over my lap … it’ll be fun. I promise.”

The baffled lad blinked again. He couldn’t believe what she was saying. Suddenly he reverted back to being a simpering, frightened little child, unclothed and helpless and afraid for his life!

“Um, you’re n-not really g-going t-t-to ... to s-spank me … are you, Mrs. Campbell?” he stammered, his voice wavering and unsure. “Please … n-not you, too ….”

The pretty woman did another little pout and she shifted her body so that her magnificent breasts wobbled and bobbed around in a pattern that hypnotized the young lad; judging from the smug look on her face, she knew exactly what she was doing. The blushing boy’s heart flipped with emotion as he realized she was flirting with him, teasing him with her every move, her every word.

“Aw, you’re not going to deprive me of the pleasure of paddling your pretty pink posterior, are you, Samuel? I am your favorite teacher, aren’t I? Hmm? So there’s nothing to be afraid of, right? I won’t let anything really bad happen to you. Besides, I’ve been waiting patiently all night long for my turn. Won’t you let me play? I won't bite you, I promise. Not right away, I mean.”

Samuel gripped his hands tight together behind his back and bit his lip as he tried to think of how to answer. He really didn’t want another spanking, needless to say. But he didn’t want to make his teacher mad … or disappoint her. But he really didn’t want that spanking, either.

The dazed lad furrowed his brow and tried to think … what to do … what to do ….

All of a sudden something – a claw, a hook or a clamp – grabbed Samuel’s ear and almost yanked it off his head; the next thing he knew he was being towed clumsily toward his teacher, guided by the pain that threatened to rip him apart. The horrified child struggled to keep his balance; out of the corner of his eye he saw the dreaded Mrs. Haggard standing over him, her bony old hand in a death grip on his ear and a horrible, ugly scowl on her face.

“You’ll mind your elders if you know what’s good for you, you little brat,” growled the old witch. “You can either bend over Simone’s lap and take what’s coming to you, or you can have another go across mine!”

Given those options, Samuel’s choice was clear. The nude child obediently but reluctantly acquiesced; soon he was face down and bottom up, his bare belly and hips pressing against the womanly thighs of his beautiful and glamorous teacher, waiting anxiously for the umpteenth spanking of the evening.

“Aw, Samuel, don't be frightened. This will be fun for the both of us, I can promise you that, my pretty little angel, my pretty pretty sissy,” Mrs. Campbell said with a musical lilt in her voice. “Fun fun fun, until you can't stand it no more!”

Something tickled the captive child's backside; he realized with no little annoyance that his teacher was dragging her fingernails around in circles at the base of his spine, occasionally delving into the crevice below. The incessant tickling evolved into a series of affectionate caresses, and then a warm, almost loving squeeze on each bottom cheek.

Samuel bit his lip and fought the urge to smile. This isn't so bad, he thought dreamily to himself; if it wasn't for that stupid Old Lady Haggard looking on – and all of his babysitter’s other guests! – it might have actually been fun. Being naked with Mrs. Campbell had been one of those fantasies he'd harbored ever since meeting the gorgeous schoolteacher. And now it had finally come true ... whether he liked it or not!

Oh wow ... what is she doing now, he thought.

The helpless boy squirmed excitedly as his cheeks were suddenly spread forcibly asunder, exposing the little thing his babysitter called his “rosebud”; gust of warm air tickled him there and his eyes went wide as he realized his teacher was gently blowing on his bottom!

Oh gosh oh gosh oh gosh ... I can’t believe she’s doing that … with everybody watching!

Muscle memory took over, just for a moment, and the panicked child clenched his buttcheeks together out of shame. It was bad enough that his teacher could see him naked; did she have to look at his butthole, too?

Why are these women so obsessed with my stupid butt- ….

SMACK!!!

“OW!!! Mrs. C-Campbell!” Samuel cried out. “That hurt!!!”

“Poor little thing. Poor, poor little sissy.” The pretty lady laughed. “Open up, pet. Let teacher take a look at that pretty little winky. Unless you want another slap, that is.”

Samuel’s face burned hot and his whole body tingled. He did as he was told, but he couldn’t believe this was happening to him; it was as though he was in some horrible, endless dream.

I don’t understand it, he thought silently. What is it about my butthole that everyone thinks is so interesting?

“Now, what’s that old saying?” the pretty lady cooed. She held writhing lad's plump cheeks wide apart, playfully circling his puckered sphincter with a single sharp fingernail and blowing on it playfully. “This is going to hurt me more than it hurts you? Or is it the other way around?”

“Um, I dunno,” Samuel croaked. He had to fight to resist clenching his bottom cheeks together. “Something like that, I think.”

The naked boy felt overwhelmed by the assault on his senses; between the poking and pinching and the cool air tickling his butt, he felt dizzy to the point of vertigo. The urge to go to the bathroom hit him again and he hoped he didn’t lose control and embarrass himself.

That would be bad, he thought ruefully. That would be really, really bad!

There was that fingertip pressing against his hole again. He gritted his teeth in anticipation of the inevitable; he'd been penetrated by his grandmother more times than he could remember. Though he had never admitted it aloud, sometimes it was actually fun. Well, most of the time it was more than fun; he absolutely loved it, but as I told you, dear reader, he would never confess the truth, not in million years!

It might not be so bad if she wasn’t doing this in front of everybody, the baffled boy thought unhappily. If only we were alone. I bet she does this better than Old Lady Tully … she probably really knows what she’s doing back there!

But the fact remained that they were not alone. With a shameful grimace, the captive child lifted up his head and saw the circle of costumed ladies that surrounded them. The masked faces leered in hungry approval, waiting in anticipation of his humiliation. Closest to him were Old Lady Tully, her fat, girlish face glowing with glee, and that witch Mrs. Haggard, her pinched, judgmental countenance savoring the moment. He closed his eyes and wished he was somewhere else, anywhere else, a million miles away.

“Hello? Wake up, sissy boy! I don't think you're paying attention to what I'm saying to you, Mr. Oliver. There are penalties for daydreaming in my class, remember?”

Mrs. Campbell's fingertip suddenly pressed against his “rosebud” ever so lightly, scraping her nail along the tender flesh just enough to cause him to mew, just like a kitten! The delirious lad stared dreamily at the floor. He couldn’t believe this was happening! His favorite teacher was actually preparing to finger his bottom!

Well, like Nana says, I may as well enjoy it … I guess. As long as I don’t get another stupid spanking.

Feeling quite foolish, the blushing boy resisted the urge to clench his muscles tight and instead he forced them to relax so he could better appreciate the sensation of her grabbing, groping hands against his tender flesh, anticipating whatever awful, wonderful thing that might happen next ....

To Samuel’s disappointment Mrs. Campbell abruptly pulled her fingertip away from his sphincter. She gave a knowing laugh and pinched one of his bottom cheeks hard enough to leave a red mark through the remainder of the weekend.

“Eek! That hurt!” the surprised child said with an embarrassed squeak. The pinch had caught him off guard and caused him to grit his teeth so hard he thought he’d break them. Adding to his misery, his cry caused the witches to all break out in vengeful laughter, which was just plain aggravating!

“Stop daydreaming and pay attention to what I'm saying, sweetheart,” his teacher said playfully. “Your dirty little mind is going to get you in trouble one of these days!”

One of these days? Samuel frowned ruefully. What about now?!

Simone Campbell resumed her ... interrogation? “Now, Samuel, what is it your Nana says when she bends you over her knee? Say it for me, please.”

The flustered lad savored the touch of his teacher's hand on his bare skin for just a moment ... and then he sighed. “She always says … it’s going to hurt me more than it hurts you.”

A ripple of laughter swept the room. Samuel glanced up to see Mrs. Tully standing nearby, a smug, approving smirk on her fat face. The embarrassed lad pursed his lips; he most definitely did not like being the center of everyone’s attention, especially like this!

Simone Campbell, on the other hand, was having the time of her life; she loved being the center of attention, almost as much as she enjoyed having such a pretty bottom to tantalize and tease. The grinning teacher winked at the whispering women, then gave her petite prisoner a little tickle on his pink puckered rosebud.

Despite his efforts not to, Samuel gave an embarrassed giggle. “Mrs. Campbell! That tickles!” he said in mortified laughter. “Please don’t do that!”

“You mean … don’t do this?” The rude finger once again flicked and picked at the tender pink hole, causing Samuel to squirm and giggle involuntarily. “What was that saying? Say it again, please. What does your Nana say?”

The flustered lad sighed. “It's going to hurt me more than it hurts you.”

“Again, please, and louder.”

Samuel rolled his eyes. He took a deep breath and shouted, “IT'S GOING TO HURT ME MORE THAN IT HURTS YOU!”

“One more time, please!”

“IT'S GOING TO HURT ME MORE THAN IT HURTS Y- ….”

SLAPPP!!!!

“OOOOWWWWWIIIEEE!!!” Samuel screamed. After being lulled into a relaxed state of mind he'd totally forgotten his teacher was actually going to spank him!

“Mrs. Campbell! That hurt m- ….”

SMACK!!!

“OWWWW!!!! Mrs. C-Camp- … Campbell … nooooooooo ….”

WHACK!!!

And so it began.

***

This was not Simone Campbell's first rodeo, as it were. The attractive educator had paddled more than her share of young bottoms – both clothed and bared – throughout her professional career and private life, and over time she developed a connoisseur's taste for such things. Her natural good looks and charms were essential assets in her avocation, and her associations with similarly minded women like Mrs. Haggard and Mrs. Tully and a host of others had proven invaluable.

While most of Simone's peers found satisfaction in taking control of rowdy, ill-mannered youngsters and helping them develop a sense of humility and a healthy respect for authority, the young educator’s inclinations were less practical and admittedly more selfish. The pretty teacher was in essence an incorrigible closeted bully to the highest degree. She enjoyed finding sweet, shy boys who were easily embarrassed and looked cute with their pants down; she gained even greater pleasure devising interesting ways to shame them to tears and redden their soft, virgin bottoms until their spirits were broken. This was a life-long obsession that eventually manifested itself in her chosen profession. There was a private joke among the other teachers that the really bad boys in Mrs. Campbell's class were sent to the principal's office, but heaven help the nice ones!

Simone singled out her newest plaything more than one year earlier when she took over a class mid-semester for a friend who went on maternity leave. It was in sixth grade homeroom and when she laid her eyes on eleven year old Samuel Oliver for the first time the cruel teacher saw that he was everything she sought in her victims. Intelligent, quiet, shy, and above all else, easily embarrassed, Samuel was the boy of her dreams. It didn’t hurt that he was just plain gorgeous to look at with that curly blond hair and a cherubic, feminine face with plump, cupid’s bow lips and watery blue eyes; he was actually prettier than many of the girls in his class! Add to that a perfect peaches and cream complexion and a cute figure that reeked of the adolescent awkwardness and vulnerability that she found so charming in young boys. What more could she want in a potential pet?

Now that is one pretty boy, Simone thought to herself. If his hair was a little longer, he’d almost look like a girl. I wonder if he realizes that? Hmmmm ….

Over the days and weeks that followed the attractive teacher spent a great deal of time getting know young Samuel, testing and teasing him on a regular basis to confirm that he was worth her time and trouble. She didn’t do anything serious or overly dramatic, just a subtle, playful comment here, a knowing smile there, along with a touch on his shoulder or his hand. The bashful boy succumbed to her overtures with his awkward smiles and flushed face and stammering replies.

Charmed by such innocence, Simone began subtly flirting with Samuel, sometimes openly, sometimes in private during study sessions or while the other children were at lunch or recess. She started out by asking him about girls and if he’d noticed how Jenny McAdams has smiled at him or the pretty way Karen Bennett wore her hair. She especially enjoyed asking him if he’d thought about kissing any of the girls; that always made him all red-faced and squirmy, and if there was anything Simone Campbell enjoyed was making a boy red-faced and squirmy!

That poor, poor child, she thought to herself. He’s so easy to tease. I have to be careful or he’ll break out in tears!

A wicked thought formed in her head and she gave a little laugh. Mmmmm … I wonder … if he gets that upset talking about kissing girls, how will he react when I ask if he’s ever kissed any boys?

After a while the scheming schoolteacher decided to up her little game, using her considerable feminine assets as bait. For instance, she might “innocently” lean forward and give the wide-eyed youngster a close up view of her cleavage; or she might reach across to pick up a book or turn a page and she would intentionally brush the tip her breast against his face. Among her favorites was to pretend she didn’t know he was watching whenever she adjusted her stockings or her brassiere, innocently reaching up under her skirt or loosening her blouse in the process.

The wily teacher had so much fun teasing poor Samuel, she couldn’t help but seek out other little games to tempt him. She even did the old trick where she would crowd up against him from behind as he sat at his desk and press her bosom against the back of his head while pointing out something of interest in his textbook. On more than one occasion she spent an entire recess in this position, literally trapping the embarrassed boy in an awkward discussion about his homework; she could feel the sensation of his body trembling through her breasts and she had to actually restrain herself from laughing, it was so delightful.

Simone’s efforts were amply rewarded. At least once a day she managed to get Samuel’s face to turn bright red or cause his mouth to drop open. She loved how his eyes would bulge wide open as he took in the womanly gifts she offered him, whether it was her ample bosom or her curvaceous derrière. It amused her to see how the slightest touch or glimpse of flesh could cause such a dramatic reaction in his demeanor. The funniest and most gratifying response was the sight of the embarrassed lad squirming about and struggling to hide the little “tent” that formed in front of his pants.

“How adorable, how wonderful,” she would murmur as she enjoyed Samuel trying to cope with his shameful reaction. “How delicious … and how fun!”

The more Simone learned about young Samuel, the more her enthusiasm grew. A harmless hug here and there let her know that his body was more plump and soft than his boring old school clothes led her to believe. While helping him zip up his jacket one day she “accidentally” groped him through his shirt and discovered that the bashful boy was in possession a pair of ripe girlish breasts; they were small, but no smaller than most of those possessed by the majority of girls in his class. This, she thought with a sly smile, was most likely the cause of his shyness.

“The poor boy, how embarrassing that must be, to be cursed with a pair of little girl titties,” she said aloud to herself with a little laugh. “No wonder he’s always so buttoned up and shy! He’s probably scared to death the other children will tease him if they ever found out his little secret! Maybe I can help them along ….”

Emboldened by that revelation, Simone was eager to find out more about Samuel’s blossoming body. She even dared on occasion to give her young victim an innocent pat on the bottom, just out of curiosity; her groping and fondling revealed Samuel’s tushie to be as round and fat as a girl’s. Oh, what joy she felt as she dreamed of what this pretty boy’s bottom might look like bared and on full display on her lap! The thought of this gorgeous child possessing such a tempting derrière made her smile so hard her cheeks hurt. She loved thinking about what it would be like to pinch it and bite it and smack it full force with her bare hand; no doubt her little game would elicit the most delicious tears imaginable.

Blessed with such a rich imagination, Simone was still frustrated in one regard; the blurry, undefined image of Samuel’s nakedness constantly eluded her. She knew what treasures he possessed, but she could not quite visualize what they would look like on explicit display before her. The problem was that Samuel was a naturally modest boy who always dressed appropriately, shirt consistently tucked in and pants properly zipped up, which made speculation on her part particularly difficult. Based on what few clues she could divine, she suspected that he was on the cusp of adolescence, where his developing body retained plenty of childhood's blubber and had a plump, girlish shape that went with that effeminate face and hair.

“Ooooo, I can’t stand it!” she often told herself. “I’d love to have a boy like that, with a lovely, fat little ass to slap and pretty little titties to kiss and plenty of soft baby fat to tickle and bite and pinch and poke. Oh yes yes yes yesssss … that would be heaven!”

Unfortunately, Samuel was so well behaved it was nearly impossible to justify a scolding much less a private paddling session – and a glimpse beneath his trousers! – behind closed doors. All Simone had to do was lift an eyebrow in annoyance or shoot him a stern look and he would get the most adorable expression of fear in his face; raising her voice would bring a shine to his watery blue eyes; and the veiled threat to call to his mother caused his lips to tremble and his voice to waver to the point that she thought he might actually break out in tears and cry!

I just love this child, she thought. I have to get my hands on this boy!

Days turned into weeks and weeks into months … and yet Simone Campbell continued to be thwarted in her attempts to conquer young Samuel Oliver and make him her own. Perhaps she was too cautious; so much was at stake, she reasoned, and she refused to act until the moment was perfect. One wrong move and all would be lost.

“This isn’t just any little brat to be pulled over my lap and wailed upon,” she told herself time and again. “Samuel is something special … like a glass of fine wine … he needs to be warmed by the hand … and sniffed … and sipped.”

She laughed at the analogy, it was so silly; but in many ways it was true. She did so want to spank and bite and kiss this living work of art named Samuel Oliver. And time, she reasoned, was on her side. All she needed to do was make a plan, plant the seeds … and harvest the fruit when it was ripe and ready for the taking.

To pass the time Simone imagined many situations where she could have fun with the boy of her dreams. On occasion, as she sat at her desk at the front of her classroom, the pretty teacher pictured young Samuel completely naked and defenseless, standing by her side and nervously awaiting her command. In her mind’s eye she imagined slapping his face over some mundane, minor matter. She could see him looking over at her, his pale, girlish face decorated with a red handprint and warm wet tears filling his bright blue eyes. She would smile with glorious satisfaction as she sent him among the other children wearing no more than an embarrassed expression to collect their papers, or perhaps down the hall to run an errand to the office or simply fetch her a cup of tea during the afternoon study period.

If she was feeling particularly cruel she slap the naked boy’s face again and then order him to hand out snacks to the other children and watch with joy as they all laughed and teased him. The comments from the other children, especially the girls, would raise a blush to his entire body and trigger a never ending flow of tears. He would cling to her skirt and beg for her help, but she would rebuff him with a sardonic sneer and instead send him to stand in the corner to await the paddle.

Simone’s imagination was filled with countless cruel games! She thought it would be fun to make her naked pet stand before the class on a high stool and order him to recite the most inane poetry and sing the most childish of songs. The other children would giggle and laugh and whisper insults, rendering the poor lad to tears while she smirked with smug satisfaction. Reluctance to follow her instruction would, of course, be rewarded with yet another slap across the face or, if the mood was right, a thrashing before the entire class.

“That would be just too much,” the cruel teacher told herself. “Oh, what fun we would have together, my pretty little Samuel … so pretty … and so fragile … if only you were mine ….”

As the semesters passed and spring approached, Simone grew intensely determined to have Samuel Oliver to herself. Who was this wonderful, nymph-like youngster with the curly blond locks and the shy smile? Where did this boy come from, he who had such full cupid's bow lips and long, luscious lashes. How could a boy this pretty, this sweet, this blessed, even exist? He was so pretty, he should have been a girl!

“If he were mine, I’d make sure he’d go from pants to panties in an instant … if I let him wear anything at all!” The pretty teacher laughed at the ridiculousness of her little joke. “And why not? I think I’d make a fun aunty. We would have so much fun playing dress up … whether he liked it or not! Oh, I bet he’d hate wearing a pretty dresses and frilly frocks. Of course, I’d convince him to enjoy it … eventually. But not too quickly. First and foremost, Aunty Simone has to have her fun ….”

Gifted the patience of a monk, Simone still refused to make her move until the time was right. Not quite believing that it would ever become a reality, she turned her illicit pursuit of young Samuel into a sort of game, if for nothing else but to occupy her thoughts. Yes, she could have forced her hand, accused him of some petty offense and taken him to the private office she used for such purposes and paddled his fat little bottom. But then it would be over and she would have nothing to show for her efforts but a pleasant memory. No, no … no … that would not do. She wanted more … much more. She just had to find the right moment … the right idea … and then act on it!

Until then Simone satisfied her urges by lying in bed and dreaming of Samuel’s helpless body draped over her lap, his trousers and underwear cast aside and his chubby, unblemished ass awaiting her touch. She often masturbated as she imagined using her bare hand to administer a harsh but loving spanking; other times, if she was bored, she apply a leather belt or a bamboo cane across that perfect little bottom. Or she might just, just maybe, spend the evening caressing the quivering globes of soft flesh and exploring the crevice in between with her fingers, poking and prodding that pink puckered virgin hole … just for the fun of it ….

“Ah, that would be nice,” she told herself as she caressed herself between the legs, her womanly wetness drenching the expensive bed sheets. For a moment she pictured herself nipping and suckling at a pair of swollen, girlish breasts when suddenly the vision of Samuel’s baby face, accentuated by his soft blond curls and those plump, pouty lips filled her imagination.

“Poor little thing … don’t you worry … Aunty Simone will kiss away those sweet, delicious tears ….”

At long last a chance meeting with Samuel’s mother on parent-teacher night was the catalyst Simone needed to make her dreams a reality. It didn’t take but a few minutes for the scheming teacher to confirm her suspicions; the child of her dreams was the product of a broken marriage being raised by a well-meaning but overworked and overbearing mother. Denise Oliver was pretty and charming and a bit of a blond in both her hairstyle and her intellect. Simone found her quite attractive in more ways than one and to her delight, the feeling seemed to be mutual! The two women discovered they had much in common, both being divorced from macho men with control issues and a wandering eye; they shared a thorough lack of enthusiasm for the opposite sex and a deep passion for wine and week-long escapes to the beach. They also both loved young Samuel, although perhaps for different reasons. No matter; Simone finally found an unwitting co-conspirator and partner in crime ... and the promise of many adventures to come.

After considerable thought – and countless restless hours in bed – the cunning educator decided to take action, but she would be discrete, crafty and focused on her long-term goals. If all went well, her wildest fantasies just might come true.

Her biggest challenge would be finding the ideal mechanism to enable her achieving her ultimate goal. A casual dinner with her dear friend and mentor, Gertrude Haggard, proved most fruitful; the elderly teacher shared her protégé’s predilections and they had compared similar notes on many occasions.

“So, a single mother and a latchkey child … left alone for hours at a time, hmm?” remarked the old woman upon hearing of Samuel’s situation. “How old is the little brat?”

Simone smiled. “He just turned twelve. He’s in the sixth grade. He is quite pretty, but is in need of a strong hand to guide him through life.”

Gertrude Haggard sniffed as though she smelled something foul. “That is terrible, just terrible. It’s not healthy or appropriate for unruly young boys to raise themselves, especially at that age. I don’t care how pretty he is. All boys are the same! They have such filthy thoughts and do the nastiest things imaginable!”

“That’s what I was thinking,” Simone said with a sly grin. “He really needs discipline. I’ve been … watching him … since the first of the year and I’ve arranged to be his homeroom teacher when he begins seventh grade next year. But there’s only so much I can do as his teacher. The mother is clueless and I’m afraid that if something isn’t done, and soon, her problems will only get worse.”

The old woman smiled; well, to an observer it would have appeared to be frowning, but it was a smile coming from her. “It sounds as though your friend is in dire need of a reliable, strong-willed babysitter. Someone who can reinforce your … ideas. Someone with the right temperament … and who has the time and energy to devote to such a pesky problem.”

The pretty teacher nodded. “My thoughts, exactly. Samuel is a good boy, but there are opportunities and temptations out there that could lead him down the wrong path.”

The old woman shook her head and practically spat as she talked. “Pshaw! There is no such thing as a ‘good boy.’ I keep telling you, Simone, boys by their nature are nasty little things, full of mischief and a propensity for perversion. Especially at that age.” Her eyes narrowed and her thin lips curled. “What we want is someone who knows this … and has the experience and desire to deal with it head on, no exceptions, no negotiations.”

“Do you know someone? Is there such a person? I don’t have a lot of money, but I can help pay for ….” Simone was so excited, she could barely contain her eagerness.

Gertrude Haggard waved off the offer. “Money is not an object. Timing and opportunity is. I know the perfect person. An old friend, she is experienced in taking control of unruly little brats. Discipline and hygiene are her passions in life, especially when it comes to young boys.”

The old woman squinted, a hint of a smile curling her thin lips. “Your little pet. He’s … pretty, you say?”

Simone nodded. “Very. Curly blond hair, a complexion of alabaster … full, kissable lips. A fat, spankable little butt. He’s quite adorable. You might mistake him for a girl if you were careless.”

“Hmmm … a little sissy, it sounds like to me,” croaked the old crone.

The younger teacher giggled. “Oh, he may not know it yet, but he’s got the makings of becoming a sissy!”

Gertrude allowed herself to smile … just a bit. “Well, if that’s true, then he must just reek of vanity. And vanity much be controlled before it corrupts the soul. Lucky for us, my friend has a penchant for pretty little sissy boys and knows how to deal with them very well. This could be a gift … not just for you … but for her … as well.”

The young teacher sighed. She felt a most definite flutter deep in between her thighs. “Mmmm … your friend sounds … wonderful.”

“Oh, she is most ideal, I can promise you that! Irma is nothing if not thorough and her enthusiasm is boundless. I also happen to know that she is in between … clients. I’ll talk to her about your pretty little … pet.” The old woman smiled. “Then, if things go right, you can arrange a meeting ….”

“Thank you so much, Gertrude.” The pretty teacher reached out and took the old woman’s hand in hers. “I am so grateful to you … for everything. Really.”

“Tut tut! Let’s have none of that. Let’s not count your pet before you have him in hand! Now, let’s see the dessert menu … I’m hungry for something sweet!”

And that, dearest reader, is how Samuel Oliver came to fall into the loving, smothering embrace of the infamous Irma Tully!

***

Meanwhile, back at the party ....

Simone Campbell continued paddling Samuel’s bottom with rapturous enthusiasm. The pretty teacher was enthralled, thrilled even, to finally have the boy of her dreams draped across her lap. This was more fun than she’d had in years; to possess if only for a few minutes such a gorgeous, vulnerable child, a boy so effeminate yet so wholesome and so adorable, and in full view of her friends be allowed to tantalize and tease and taunt him … and then to get to spank him and draw out the sweet, precious sound of his pain and humiliation … that was better than any sex or drugs or rock and roll she’d ever experienced in her life.

What a glorious opportunity this is for me, she thought giddily. What wonderful time to be me! And to think, this is just the beginning … an appetizer before the banquet.

I love being me!!!

The greedy woman struck poor Samuel’s naked bottom countless times with her bare hand – literally more than anyone present that evening could remember – though most of the blows were barely more than a love pat, with the occasional hard SMACK!!! just to remind him who was in charge.

Pat-pat-pat-pat-pat- ... CRACK!!!

“WAAAAAAHHHH!!! OW! Mrs. Campbell! Please don't! That hurt!”

Pat-pat-pat-pat-pat- ... THWACK!!!

“OWWW!!! Please ... no ... n-no m-more ... WAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!”

Rather than rely on brute force Samuel’s mischievous mistress focused her attention – and inflicting sharp slaps and smacks – on the wailing child's more sensitive, tender areas, like the inside of his plump thighs and the little crease between the back of the thigh and the buttcheek. They sounded worse than they actually were because of how her cupped palm struck the soft, fat flesh. The process was long and tedious as the tantalizing teacher lingered between the more severe strikes, caressing and stroking and plucking at the mortified youngster’s posterior with her elegantly manicured fingernails as she chatted casually with the other ladies.

Pat-pat-pat-pat-pat- ... SLAP!!!

“Oh yes, Samuel is one of my students. He’s actually my most favorite of all, to tell the truth. The other children tease him all the time about being the 'teacher's pet.' Isn't that adorable?”

Pat-pat-pat-pat-pat- ... WHAP!!!

“Yes, he is quite sweet, isn’t he? No, he’s not a bad boy, but he does run with a pretty rough crowd sometimes. I just hope that doesn’t get him into any serious trouble.”

Pat-pat-pat-pat-pat- ... THWAP!!!

“I’ve known for some time that he needed a bit of discipline. I’m only too glad to contribute to his being raised under a firm hand.”

Pat-pat-pat-pat-pat- ... SMACK!!!

“I agree! Too many boys today just don’t know what they’re missing ….”

Pat-pat-pat-pat-pat- ... WHACK!!!

Samuel was torn between shame and excitement, pain and pleasure; the poor boy gritted his teeth with each hard blow and he gasped for air as Mrs. Campbell’s nimble fingers tickled and probed his unprotected bottom. While in his head he hated getting his bare butt spanked again, especially considering how sore it already was, the fact remained that a part of him didn’t mind so much because the woman of his dreams was also playing with his butt. Her careful, almost loving touch was both humbling and exhilarating, sending thrills and chills all over his naked body; if it wasn’t for the fact that there were at least another dozen ladies looking on, he might have actually enjoyed himself.

“Mmmmmm … such a perfect bottom,” cooed Mrs. Campbell as she let a single fingertip slide up and down Samuel’s buttcrack. The flustered youngster’s eyes went wide with surprise as her finger the slide between his thighs and tickled the back of his ballsack; he struggled to contain his excitement as she caressed his young balls, the sensation was so thrilling, yet mortifying.

“So pretty, so pink, so soft to the touch … just the way I like it ....”

SMACK!!!

The poor child writhed and wriggled under his teacher’s alternating slaps and caresses. The incessant back and forth between what he hated and what he loved was maddening; by the time he was unceremoniously shoved off her lap he was dizzy with confusion.

“All right, sissy boy, that’s enough for now. You still have a few guests who want their turn.”

Samuel rubbed his sore, red bottom. He started to complain about the pain when he glanced down and saw the stiff, curved penis that sprouted up from between his legs.

Uh-oh! Not now! Why did that stupid thing have to get stiff now, of all times!

The shamed lad looked up to see Mrs. Campbell looking right him. The grin on her face was painful to bear.

“Well, look who decided to join us!” the pretty teacher sang loudly and with delight. “I’ve seen that little fellow before on several occasions when you were thinking naughty thoughts in my classroom. Are you thinking naughty thoughts now, Samuel? It that what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours, naughty, dirty little thoughts? Hmmm … maybe you enjoy being put over my lap more than those crocodile tears lead us to believe.”

The embarrassed lad was so ashamed that he forgot the rules and put his hands over his erect penis in an attempt to hide the source of his humiliation. Almost immediately he felt a fiery electric shock, the result of a hardened hand slapping his soft, tender bottom.

“OWWW!!!!” he yelled. “That hurt!!!”

“It will hurt a lot more if you don’t put your hands where they belong,” warned Mrs. Tully. The obese matron snapped her fingers with authority. “Behind your back, baby doll. Unless you want Nana’s hairbrush to remind you who’s in charge.”

“Yes, Nana. I’m sorry, Nana,” the contrite child whispered meekly.

Oh, how Samuel wanted to tell his grandmother to shut up and leave him alone, but he knew full well that was not about to happen. Bitter experience told him that both Mrs. Tully and Mrs. Haggard were watching and waiting for him to make a mistake, any mistake at all, that would give them the slightest excuse to put him over their laps. His poor bottom just couldn’t endure another beating that evening. Instead, he clasped his hands behind his back, swaying shyly from left to right and back again, unknowingly presenting a naïve, coy and most appealing figure to his captors.

“I’m … I’m sorry, M-Mrs. C-Campbell,” the beleaguered boy weakly croaked. “It just does that sometimes and … with … w-w-with no p-pants on … I … I can’t help it ….”

The glamorous woman raised an eyebrow, her lip curled in a sardonic, almost cruel smile. “I know, Samuel. I know all about nasty little boys and the things you think about and what goes on underneath your stinky old pants. That’s one reason I much prefer you without any. This way I can see what you’re thinking and you don’t have to worry about keeping naughty secrets. If I had my way, you’d never wear your old pants ever again. If I had my way you’d just run about in your sweet little wings and have fun and look pretty all the time. Wouldn’t that be fun? Hmm? Hmmm?”

Samuel bit his lip. He thought about what his teacher said. He knew all about going without pants around his “grandmother,” that crazy Old Lady Tully. That wasn’t much fun at all! But being without pants in front of his favorite teacher? He thought about that for a second or two. To be quite honest, compared to being with Mrs. Tully … or Old Lady Haggard … that didn’t sound so bad at all.

At least Mrs. Campbell is more fun to look at, the baffled lad thought to himself.

Simone Campbell raised her eyebrows and laughed a most evil laugh. She looked just like a beautiful, wicked witch queen in her morbidly exotic costume.

“Oh, I know what you’re thinking, little mister! One look at that silly little dinky and I know exactly what’s on your mind! You like going without pants, don’t you? Um-hmmm … see, you can’t hide your thoughts from me! I’m right, aren’t I? Being bottomless keeps you honest, don’t you think? Like right now … You look like a little angel, but you’re really a little devil, aren’t you? Hmm? Hmmm?”

Samuel bit his lip. He couldn’t believe his teacher was talking to him this way. She sounded like she could read his mind! How did she do that? Was she a real live witch?

“I asked you a question, Samuel,” the pretty woman said in her best school teacher voice. She leaned toward him and pressed her shoulders forward, which in turn squeezed her breasts together for his benefit and his alone. “Are you a little devil? Hmm? Are you? Hmmmmm?

“I … I … I dunno …,” the naked lad replied meekly. “My … my m-mom says I am. But Mrs. Tu- … I mean, my … my Nana … she doesn’t think so … I g-guess ….”

There was a wave of giggles and titters that floated about the room, once again reminding Samuel that he and his teacher were not alone. His cheeks flushed as he glanced around and saw a gallery of ladies’ faces – made ugly with their creepy witches’ masks – smiling down at him.

“Hmmm,” Mrs. Campbell put her finger to her chin as she considered the youngster for a moment. “You know what would be fun, Samuel? I think it would be fun if you showed up for my class like this. What do you think? Just you in your cute little pink sissy wings and your sissy birthday suit … and your silly little sissy dinky showing. Isn’t that a great idea? Don't you agree? Don't YOU think that would be fun? Hmm? Hmmm?

Samuel’s eyes went wide with surprise. Of all the things for his teacher to say, this was the one thing he feared most. Oh sure, being naked in front of a bunch of old ladies wasn’t his most favorite thing to do in the world – far from it! – but it wasn’t the worst thing, either. After all, they were just some old ladies, right? As long as they kept his secrets among themselves, well, that was something he could live with.

“Nooooo,” he whined. “I don’t think that’s a good idea at all! It’s a horrible idea!”

“Mmmm-mmmm, but I think it’s a fun idea,” the buxom teacher said, her voice taking on a cruel, almost bullying tone. “You could be my little angel, my pretty little sissy pet, and you could sit up front where all of the other children could see just how silly you look in your pretty pink wings and bare bottom. Ummmm-hmmmm … that would be just the best, don’t you agree?”

Samuel felt his stomach turn upside down. Why was his teacher teasing him like this? Why was she being so mean? She had to know he’d never want to go to school naked, much less wearing those stupid pink wings! She had to know that if his friends and classmates ever saw him looking like this, that would be the end of his life!

Why is she being so mean to me, he asked himself. Why is she talking to me like that? She’s as bad as Mrs. Tully! I mean, she’s almost as bad as Old Lady Haggard! And that’s the worst!!!

“I don’t want to go to school naked,” Samuel squeaked, his voice barely above a whisper. “And I don’t want to go to school dressed like a dumb old angel, either. That not fun … or funny! That’s a horrible idea!”

The blushing boy gave his teacher the most innocent, pathetically pleading smile he could muster. He didn’t realize that was probably the worst mistake he made that entire evening.

“You don’t want what? You don’t want your friends to know what a pretty angel you are? Really? Is that what you want, my pretty little Samuel? Is that what you … think … you want? For all of your friends and classmates … to know … what a … pretty … pretty … pretty … little naked angel … you really … are?”

Simone Campbell stood up to her fullest height and, hands on hips, stared down at the naked child before her. To Samuel it seemed that she was even taller than before. That was probably because he was naked and had just gotten his bare butt beaten … again.

She’s like a giant, he lamented silently. And with no clothes on I feel like such a little kid. So little … so helpless ….

“BWAAAA-HAHAHAHAHAAAAAAA!!!!” the statuesque woman laughed. “BWWAAAAHAHAHAHAHA … HAHAHAHAHAAAA!!!”

Samuel nearly peed himself, he was so startled by the sudden eruption of noise that filled the room. The stunned lad looked up at his statuesque teacher. With wild, wide eyes and her mouth opened up even wider, she let loose a loud, raucous laugh, a crude explosion in the form of a very unladylike hee-haw, totally distinct from anything Samuel had ever heard from her before.

“BWAAAA-HAHAHAHAHAAAAAAA!!!! HAHAHAHAHA!!!”

The awful, rude and unsophisticated sound was the exact opposite of what Samuel or anyone else would expect from this gorgeous, shapely woman of substance and style; but at the same time anyone who heard it could tell that it was authentic and uninhibited.

It was also more than a little bit unnerving.

“BWAAAA-HAHAHAHAAAA!!!! HAHAHA!!!”

“M-Mrs. C-Campbell …?” Samuel politely squeaked. “Are … are you … okay?”

“HAHAHAAAA!!! HAHAHAHAAAA!!!!” The statuesque teacher kept laughing. She laughed so hard that her face turned red and her bounteous breasts bounced up and down in an immodest, titillating display that was as mesmerizing to our young hero as it was alarming.

“BWAAAAA-HAHAHAHAHAAAAAA!!!”

The naked lad stood unsure and confused for several long, excruciating seconds … which blended into what seemed like minutes … listening to that awful blaring, glaring laughter from his teacher.

“BWAAAA-HAHAHAHAHAAAAAAA!!!! HAHAHAHAHA … HAHAHAHAHAAAA!!!”

“Please stop laughing at me,” he pleaded. “Please, Mrs. Campbell ... please don't laugh at me ... puh-leeeeeeassssse ....”

“BWAAAA-HAHAHAHAHAAAAAAA!!!! HAHAHAHAHAAAA!!!”

The more she laughed, the louder she laughed, and the worse he felt. To add fuel to the fire, the coven of witches all joined in, cackling and chuckling and chortling and hissing in cruel merriment.

“BWAAAA-HAHAHAHAHAAAAAAA!!!! HEHEHEEEEE!!!! HISSSSSSS-SSSSSSSSS … HAHAHAHAAAAAA!!! HEHEHEEEEE!!!! HISSSSSSS-SSSSS HISS-SSSSSSS-SSSSSSSSS ....”

The shamed child’s spirit sunk as he thought about how he was the source of joy for these strange, cruel women. For some weird, otherworldly reason his humiliation and shame brought them together and created some macabre merriment for them all, resulting in a cacophony of laughing and hooting and hollering in the most rude manner; and in turn the precious pink faux angel known as Samuel Oliver suffered exquisitely. The only thing that kept him from falling down on the floor and curling into a ball was the fact that at least he wasn’t getting spanked. Not at that moment, anyway.

“HAHAHAHAHAAAAAAA!!! HAHAHAHAHA … HAHAHAHAHAAAA!!!”

After another moment or so the commotion died down and the room was deadly quiet ... and except for the recording of creepy Halloween sounds playing in the background, of course. Samuel swallowed back his fear and, with his hands clasped coyly behind his back, the entire front of his body defenseless and uncovered, he addressed his teacher once again.

“Mrs. Campbell? Please stop laughing at me. Please? Please, it’s not very funny.”

With a broad smile on her face, Samuel’s teacher took in a deep breath, causing her bounteous, satin-covered bosom to rise and fall in the most intriguing manner.

“This isn’t funny, hmm? Is that what you think, little man?” Mrs. Campbell reached down and gave the tip of one of Samuel’s feathered wings a playful flip. “Really? Is that what you think?”

The blushing boy frowned and shook his head. “No … ma’am ….” he replied softly. “It’s not funny. Not funny … at all.”

“Seriously? You don’t think this is funny?”

The elegant woman gracefully spun Samuel about and grabbed the tips of both of the miniature wings attached to his back and she spread them out wide enough that they almost reached the width of his naked shoulders.

“Really? This isn’t funny?” Simone Campbell’s face was a devilish as it was pretty. “Oh, I think this is both fun and funny! Having a pretty little boy running about in prissy pink angel’s wings and his bare bottom hanging out is the best! And it’s one of the funniest sights I’ve ever seen in my entire life!”

Samuel felt a shiver come over his entire body; his teacher's warm, moist breath tickled the side of his neck as she said slowly and seductively into his ear: “Tell me that’s not funny. You can’t do it, can you? Hmm? You just can’t do it, can you, hmmmm?”

Samuel pouted. “Well … yes ... I ... I mean, no ma’am … it’s not fun- ….”

The naked child blinked as he suddenly realized the entire coven of witches was leering at him. That’s why Mrs. Campbell turned him around; she had set him up on full frontal display for his peculiar audience and their amusement, like a department store mannequin! There he was, shamefully naked and sprouting a most embarrassing erection, his little penis sticking straight up in all its glory; and there they were, a whole room full of middle aged costumed women, eagerly ogling him and grinning and licking their lips!

“Stop laughing at me!” he cried. “Please … you’re all being mean! Stop laughing at me!

“STOP LAUGHING AT MEEEEE!!!!”

SLAPPP!!!!

The blow to Samuel’s face was hard and sharp and shocking. He didn’t know what happened at first, but then a second, and then a third SLAPPP!!! hit him and he recognized the sensation: someone had just slapped him across the face, leaving him sobbing for air and with tears running down his reddened cheeks.

“Uh-oh,” murmured Old Lady Haggard. A sly, satisfied smile curled her ancient lip. “Someone made Simone mad. I pity the fool who did that.”

Samuel Oliver tried to blink the burning tears from his eyes. Having failed that, he wiped his face against a bare arm and blinked again.

“Mrs. Campbell … wh- … why did you hit me?” Samuel looked up at his smiling teacher. “I … I didn’t do … anything ….”

The pretty teacher looked as if she was quite happy, which sent a shiver down the beaten lad’s spine. He’d have understood it if she looked angry or annoyed – he wouldn’t have liked it any better, but he would have understood that. No, it was that creepy, evil smile on her face that made him feel sick to his stomach. It was as if she took great pleasure in seeing him suffer; which was something he’d grown adept at recognizing.

“Let’s just say I didn’t like the tone in your voice,” Mrs. Campbell replied with a delightfully sarcastic lilt. “If you want to talk to me, my pretty angel, you need to do so in a more polite and happy manner. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Mrs. Campbell,” Samuel replied. For an instant he felt like he was back in school.

The bobbing witches’ hats and gleeful cackles and mocking comments were more than he could bear! The bashful boy quickly pulled away and turned back around to face his tormentor. He crossed his arms over his chest in a stern pose and he shook his head in defiance of the shameful position in which he’d been cast.

The amused teacher laughed. “Oooooo, somebody’s not very happy. That’s even more funny. It’s hilarious, actually, considering how delightful you were a little while ago, proudly prancing down the steps and showing off your cute little butt. You’re a little hypocrite, Samuel Oliver, that’s what you are. A little hypocrite!”

Samuel blinked. “I'm ... I'm a ... what, Mrs. Campbell?”

The statuesque woman reached out and tapped him on top of the head with a single, sharpened fingernail, causing him to wince in pain.

“You, my pretty little thing, are a hypocrite. An adorable, sweetheart little hypocrite, but a hypocrite nonetheless. You prance down the stairs with your cute little bottom bare bottom and you tempt and tease and flirt with the ladies, primping and posing and dancing around the house without a care in the world ... you even show off your little dinky, waving it around like you're waving a flag at a parade.”

Samuel whined again, this time because his teacher had flicked at his erection with her fingertip; the sharp pain was enough to bring tears to his eyes, it hurt so badly. His audience could not have cared less about his misery, of course; the entire coven burst out in witchy laughter, each and every member of the party cackling and hooting and hissing in agreement with the attractive teacher's words.

“Oh yes, you show off your cute little figure and then, at the first sign that things might not go your way, you cry your fake crybaby tears and you complain about the ladies looking at you. What a little liar you are. You are naughty, dirty little hypocrite, Samuel Oliver. I am so ashamed of you. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

Samuel watched with red-faced confusion as his teacher once again burst out with laughter; her laughing voice was more brash, more coarse than the warm, seductive melodies he was accustomed to hearing from her lips. He might have found it curious if it hadn't been quite so alarming.

“BWAAAA-HAHAHAHAHAAAAAAA!!!! HAHAHAHAHAAAA!!!”

The nude boy put his hands together and pleaded with his teacher. “But, Mrs. Campbell ... I’m not lying,” he squeaked weakly. He was careful to not sound too confrontational in order to avoid another slap across the face. “I’m not a liar! I promise I'm not! I promise!”

A broad, wolfish smile spread across Simone Campbell’s face. She reached out and tapped the flustered child on the nose and giggled.

“You know, Samuel, I think we're both on to something here. You’re right! Telling your classmates all about your Halloween will be great fun! I can’t wait to see what your friends think when they hear about this! Won’t that be marvelous? Won’t that be just the absolute best? Hmm? Hmmm?”

Samuel felt sick. He looked down at his naked body and gritted his teeth. Surely his teacher was teasing him. She wouldn’t really do that, would she? Tell the kids in his class that he went naked on Halloween? And how he had put on a naked show for a bunch of old ladies? How could she even think of doing such a thing?

The pretty woman laughed. “Mmmmm … I think your friends at school would find it very interesting how you spent your Halloween. Don’t you? I mean, just imagine how they’ll all react when I tell them how you hosted this wonderful costume party for all of us old ladies, how everyone showed up dressed in their finest regalia … and how pretty little … prissy little … fat little Samuel Oliver … showed up in his birthday suit … and showed us all a marvelous time. I think they’d love that, don’t you?

The naked child shook his head. “Nooooo … please … don’t tell them. Please …?”

“Oh, but why not? Won’t that be fun? Hmm? Hmmm? Oooooo … I think it will be the best, don’t you? Hmmmmmm …?”

Samuel’s eyes went wide and his jaw dropped. Why would she do that? She had to be kidding … right? Wouldn’t that be against the teachers’ rules or something? Wasn’t there something the teacher’s handbook about keeping certain things secret and not embarrassing the students? Wasn’t any of this against the law???

Samuel stuck out his bottom lip. How could she be so mean, he thought to himself. She ... she even called me FAT!

“Please … M-Mrs. C-Campbell … you … you’re not really … gonna tell … on me. Are you? Please … say you’re just teasing. Please …?”

Before the conversation could continue Irma Tully interrupted, her fat, delightful face filled with joy and mischief belying her matronly maturity.

“Ooooo, doesn’t that sound like fun!” the plump matron cooed happily. “I love that idea! Don’t you just love it, baby doll? Hmm? Hmmm? Doesn’t that sound like the best?”

Samuel Oliver crossed his arms over his chest and buried his chin against his chest.

“Noooooo,” he said in a whiney, whimpering voice. “It sounds just horrible!”

The bosomy matron clapped her hands happily. “Well, it appears you two have much to discuss, but let us not neglect our other guests. Come along, baby doll, there are a few people who have been waiting to see you. You mustn’t keep them waiting any longer ….”

“But Nana,” Samuel protested. “What if Mrs. Campbell … I mean … she might … tell my friends … at school. We can’t … I can’t … let her … do that ….”

“Too bad, so sad,” Mrs. Tully sang cheerfully. “I’m sure it will all work out in the end. Now, let’s put on our happy face, all right? There’s someone special who came to see you! Let’s see a pretty smile … come on, baby doll … that’s better. You want to make a good impression for your friends, don’t you?”

Samuel’s babysitter clamped her power hands on Samuel’s bare shoulders and she turned him about to face a trio of familiar faces. The stunned child’s complexion turned pale as he saw who she was talking about. At first glance it looked like a trio of witches, all adorned in varying shades of black cloth and with tall pointed witches’ hats atop their heads. Then he noticed that one of them was much shorter than the other two. Not only that, but none of them were wearing those weird plastic masks over their faces. And that’s when he realized that he’d seen those faces before, and just recently. His stomach did a somersault as he whispered their names ….

“M-Marlene? Mrs. … Mrs. Miller? And Aunt M-Margaret????” Samuel licked his lips. They were dry and chapped and trembling. “Wha- … what are YOU doing here???”

To be continued ….

(End of File)