The Correction of Debbie Donovan Ch. 12

Chapter 12: The Liberation of Nancy Steeple

MISS STEEPLE

"Describe curvilinear motion," I said.

"Uh..." was the girl's darling response.

I shook my head. It was Tuesday evening, and although I had allowed Debbie time to relax after school, and had given her a nutritious and energizing snack, she still had trouble focusing on her lessons. I raised my ruler to administer a purposeful admonishment, but was interrupted before I could deliver the blow.

"Oh, there you are, Debbie," Mrs Hammersmith declared sweeping into the room. "I've been waiting for you in the gymnasium!"

The girl had been looking towards the window, but at the sound of her mistress's voice, whirled around and almost fell out of her heels. Dianne laughed with delight at her awkwardness; I was not amused. It had been less than twenty four hours since Mr Hammersmith had left for his private trip, and already Dianne was becoming exceptionally difficult. This was to be expected, of course; she always became restless when he was gone, but this time it seemed worse than usual, and I suspected that the presence of Debbie had something to do with it.

Mr Hammersmith is a man of great power on many levels, and of course sexually, he is as insatiable as a satyr. He has his way with all his staff when he pleases, and I can say without modesty that I, as first among his staff, get the lion's share of that attention. Although I've never witnessed it, I know he also has frequent, and I imagine very wild encounters with his fierce, sexually charged Wardonians. Besides that, he has a number of acquaintances, women of substance and intelligence that he dallies with on occasion, but he has only one wife, who he lavishes constantly with firm and passionate favors. However, in my four years of service to him, I had never known him to have what I would call a protégé, which was what Debbie appeared to be.

I was poised to complete my blow, however Debbie managed to regain her balance and adopt the proper stance. "Ahhh, My Lady!" was her barely adequate response to the sudden, arrival of her mistress.

Dianne was clearly toying with her, for now she stood with a fist on her bare, cocked hip, looking her up and down with a stern face and a questioning eyebrow.

"Ummmm, I didn't know..." Debbie stammered. Her wide eyes were fixed on Dianne's face, but no doubt her mistress's lewd gym uniform was contributing to her confusion.

"What do you say to your mistress?!" I snapped.

"Uhh, good afternoon My Lady," she blurted and proceeded to bite her plump lower lip.

"Well, come along then. I have your uniform in the gym, and the others are waiting," Dianne said impatiently.

"Physical Training is not on her schedule for today," I said, quite unable to hide my annoyance. It was all I could do to prevent myself from angrily tapping my ruler against my side.

"Well, I have changed it," she replied breezily. "The poor girl needs exercise. How is she supposed to think locked up in a stuffy room like this?"

"Her training has been carefully devised, madam," I said through gritted teeth, wavering on the very edge of impudence.

"Including luncheons, al fresco?" she demanded narrowing her eyes at me. "Surely you managed to squeeze some lessons into that!"

That gave me pause. I had forgotten how much of a busybody she could be when she was restless. I managed to maintain a blank expression although I could feel the tension, and the attendant arousal creeping into my wanton pussy. "Mr Hammersmith approved the curriculum," I said, tapping my leg with the ruler, just as a cat will twitch it's tail before a fight.

"Well, I didn't. So, for heaven's sake, change it, Nancy," she replied with a wave of her hand. "Now get moving, Debbie, straight to the gymnasium," she added and gave her rump a good hard smack. Even though she was wearing a full skirt, the girl still gave a surprised little squeal.

"Go, Debbie," I said evenly, not giving Dianne the satisfaction of hearing any displeasure in my voice. My command was unnecessary, as the clever little girl had already started moving. It appeared that she was quite aware who the mistress of this household was.

I stood for some time staring at the empty doorway, wondering what was afoot, and reflecting on how I had come to be in the service of this remarkable household.

####

I was living a colorless, pathetic life in a small New England college town. The changing norms of pedagogical practice, and my own enthusiastic adherence to the old ways had led to repeated indiscretions which forced me to withdraw from my life's work. I did so with great reluctance, and although I was compelled to live a quiet and discreet existence, I refused to feel the sense of shame society expected of me.

Nonetheless, I became a little mouse of a creature running a rooming house, living vicariously through my boarders, and taking care of my desires as best I could in secret. So tedious was it all that I had even begun to forget who I was and what I had been. The outlook was terribly bleak as nineteen fifty-three began, and I entered my forty first year.

One January night, as I sat at home alone, a handsome older man in evening dress knocked on my door. He apologetically explained that it was his driver's night off and that his cranky Bentley had broken down outside my door. He needed to use my phone to call for a ride, and more urgently, he needed to call New York on an important business matter. He offered to pay all the charges of course.

I left him alone, but discreetly eavesdropped, and heard him talking to the governor like an old pal; casually discussing some multi-million dollar deal that had to be wrapped up within the hour. I didn't recognize him, but he was obviously a man of considerable wealth and status. He had introduced himself simply as Mr. Hammersmith, a name that I heard spoken of only in whispers.

When his call was completed, we chatted pleasantly while he waited for his ride. He was charming, charismatic and relaxed, and I felt my heart flutter with hopeless desire. There was a great difference in our social status, and he wore a wedding band. The conversation turned to schooling, and here at least I could preen a little, having been associated with some very prestigious schools. At the mention of Ramsgate and Stonebridge, our conversation turned to corporal punishment of which I declared myself a very strong supporter. I alluded to the difficulties this had caused me, and he seemed sympathetic, although he didn't press me for details.

All too soon, he took his leave and I retired to my bed to try and stroke away my frustrations. The next day, to my very pleasant surprise, I received a "thank you" in the form of a bouquet of flowers, and an invitation to spend a weekend at his estate outside Boston.

It was as if I had entered the dream world of my imagination. On Friday night, I was taken by limousine for the three-hour trip to Hammermill Manor. There I was greeted in person by Mr Hammersmith and his beautiful young wife. On that very first night, I was thrilled to learn we were having a formal dinner just for the three of us, in an intimate dining room next to their quarters. The thought of being in their inner sanctum so to speak, quite overwhelmed my reason, and after dinner on my trip to the powder room, I found myself slipping into their bedroom.

With breathless, nervous fascination, I snooped about, and spied a beautiful diamond pendant left carelessly on Mrs Hammersmith's make-up table. Without hesitation I slipped it into the pocket of my dress. I simply had to have it. It was an impulsive act, the sort of thing that I had been punished for many times when I was young. That wicked behavior had been properly caned out of me, but recently it had begun to reassert itself.

My heart beat wildly when I returned to the library where we were to read some poetry aloud. Mrs Hammersmith rose to greet me like I had been away for a month, which did not seem so strange for her, odd, dramatic woman that she was. She bent down to give me a kiss on both cheeks, placing her delicate hands on my bare shoulders before sliding them down very purposefully to the front of my dress.

"What's this?" she demanded.

I moved my hand to stop her, but she intercepted it, catching me by the wrist with surprising strength. Her piercing blue eyes locked onto mine and I lowered them at once. I was both terrified and thrilled.

"Tom, come here," she said, and he rose smoothly, coming to stand beside her. I gazed up for a moment to see them both looking sternly down at me. While Mr Hammersmith took me firmly by the other wrist, Mrs Hammersmith reached into the pocket and pulled out the pendant.

"Ha, I thought so! She's a little thief!" she declared.

She looked ravishing in a powder blue gown that revealed not only her shoulders, but was cut far down her elegant back. At the sides, it fell away from the swelling of her breasts so that it sat perched on them in the front and stayed up; the effect was of a vast expanse of delicious pink skin. Her reddish-golden hair was swept away from her face and fell down her back in a large curling pony tail, and around her slender neck was a thin necklace of gold and diamonds that had a silver bow off to one side. In appearance at least, I could not be deny that she was truly worthy of a man such as Mr Hammersmith.

He took my chin in his hand, making me look up at him, and I nearly melted before his gaze. "Did you steal this?" he demanded.

"I don't know how it came to be in my pocket, I..."

He held my chin firmly so I couldn't lower my head. "Don't embarrass yourself further by making up baseless lies," he said. "Did you take it?"

"Yes sir," I mumbled and he released my chin so I could lower my head again. My face burned with shame and tears filled my eyes. "I'm sorry," I whispered.

"Is this is how you repay our hospitality?" he demanded.

"I'm sorry. I'm so very, very sorry, sir. What can I do to make up this insult?" I asked in a contrite but louder voice.

"She was in our bedroom, the little minx," Mrs.Hammersmith hissed moving around behind me and trailing her nails lightly across my bare shoulders. I could feel her hot breath on the back of my neck. "Sneaking around in our private quarters. What else did you steal?" She didn't give me a chance to answer, but kept on with intense, heated passion. "Eh, did you feel up my delicate, personal things? Did you sniff my silks and satins?"

I shook my head, frightened that she had guessed what I would have done if I'd had more time.

"She has to be searched," she went on, "who knows what else she is hiding in her dress, or underneath it. Maybe she's wearing my panties; maybe she has my pearls stuffed into her unworthy slit."

That sounded wonderful, but I felt I had to protest. "You can't do that, and I haven't taken anything else, honestly," I said without raising my eyes.

Mrs Hammersmith had her hands on the zipper at the back of my gown, and I tried to reach around and stop her but, Mr Hammersmith grabbed both of my hands. "Shall I call the police then, and have the dykes at the county jail search you instead?" he asked.

"Oh, no, not that! Please, not that," I pleaded shaking the tears from my eyes.

"Then be still Miss Steeple," he said.

Mrs Hammersmith yanked on the zipper so hard she tore it just past the waistline.

"Do you agree to cooperate?" Mr Hammersmith asked.

"Yes, sir," I replied.

He let go of my hands and took a step back. I shrugged the dress off of my shoulders. Mrs Hammersmith grabbed the waist, and she pulled it and my slip down together in one motion. I stepped out of it. "Now let's see what she has hidden in here," she said.

"You said you attended the Ramsgate Academy, was that true?" Mr Hammersmith asked.

"Yes," I said looking up at him.

"That would have been in the early twenties, who was the head master?"

"Mr Lancaster," I replied at once. I remembered him very well.

"We are old acquaintances," Mr Hammersmith said.

"He was very inspirational, a great educator," I replied.

"Yes, and I am sure that you were a difficult girl."

"Yes sir, I was," I admitted looking him boldly in the eye, my heart beating ever more rapidly.

"You had the habit of taking things that didn't belong to you," he added.

"Yes sir."

"Then he would have corrected you no doubt."

"Yes sir, he did. I learned to be good, but recently, in the past year or so, I have been slipping back into my old naughty ways. I have tried to fight it, but I cannot adequately discipline myself, sir. I can't do it alone," I confessed.

"You need a firm hand."

"Yes sir."

"And constant attention."

"Yes sir," I said, pleading with him with my eyes. I felt my legs tremble and my pussy began to drip.

"Well, if I find you a properly receptive pupil, I will take you on and mend your ways," he said. "And with your background, I may even find a use for you on my staff."

"Oh, thank you, sir. I will. I will be receptive and obedient and dutiful. I will do whatever you think is necessary, without question or hesitation," I replied jumping at the chance to put my life in his hands.

Mrs Hammersmith was beside him now, looking me up and down hungrily, and smiling with her thin lips. "She is very fetching in a slutty way," she said.

"Get your dress off, Dianne," Mr Hammersmith said, "and we will get to work."

MR HAMMERSMITH

She stood there humbly in a stiff, black full-length, strapless girdle, her big tits bulging out of the D cups and heaving with every excited breath. The girdle was open bottomed and came about half way down her exposed slit; thick straps held up black silk, seamed stocking that fit into her four inch backless heels. She had a flat little hat that perched on the top of her head. I told her to leave it on, that and the medium length of pearls around her neck. Her eyes were shiny with tears and her mouth was parted in hopeful anticipation as she waited for whatever I decided would come next.

Dianne stripped her down to nothing but a long strand of pearls, elegant four inch heels, and a pair of very high, black fishnet stay-up stockings that literally cupped the bottom of her round ass cheeks. These contrasted wonderfully with her pale skin, and I watched with satisfaction as she crossed over to the wall cupboard and took from it her favourite riding crop. She cut the air with it a couple of times, and then struck Miss Steeple an upward slashing blow to the underside of her butt cheeks.

"Don't just stand there, woman! Your master needs to be undressed!" she declared.

"Yes mistress, of course," Nancy replied and immediately fell to her knees, and then, right down onto her belly at my feet. She began to lick my shoes with long full swipes of her tongue; Dianne stood over her, and winked at me with one of her wild blue eyes.

"Spread your legs," she commanded impatiently, and when Nancy did so, she used the leather thong at the end of the crop to tap her pussy.

Miss steeple did not dwell long on the ritual debasement before she set about untying and removing my shoes and socks; when she had finished, she rose again to stand in front of me with her head down, her arms at her sides, and her legs about a foot apart. Dianne crowded close behind her, rubbing her firm naked tits against her back and stroking the side of her face with the crop. I stood up so Nancy was about eye level with my chin and I held out my arms one at a time so she could unfasten the cuff links.

Dianne slipped the crop between Miss Steeple's legs and gave a little upward tug. "Give them to me, little thief. I don't want them disappearing," she said and put her free hand in front of Miss Steeple's face. When Nancy handed them over, she tossed them carelessly over her shoulder; "Continue," she said.

With her eyes straight ahead, Miss Steeple unfastened the buttons of my shirt with slightly trembling fingers and deep sighing breaths. Dianne, the crop still in place, kissed her naked neck and shoulders while keeping her eyes locked with mine. When Nancy finished with the last button, she continued by unbuckling my belt and waist button, and pulling my shirt free from my pants.

Dianne pulled the crop out of her slit and gave her a whack on the ass. "Stop! Hands behind your back," she said and then she came around and stood behind me.

My darling wife pulled the shirt down off of my shoulders and arms, and tossed it away. "Suck his nipples," she commanded, and Miss Steeple leaned forward with her hands still behind her back and began to suck hard on each of my nipples in turn. "Look up. Look at your master," Diane commanded, and when the shaking spinster looked up at me with big, drooping passionate eyes, I couldn't resist bending down and crushing her fat, trembling lips with a forceful kiss.

I grabbed the back of her neck and forced her mouth against mine, shoving my tongue deep into her mouth while I traced the outline of her large breasts in the stiff material of her girdle. The moment her compliant tongue met mine, she gasped, stiffened, and was taken by spasms that wracked her entire body.

"Oh, you naughty, naughty woman!" Dianne exclaimed and struck her several time across the buttocks, which only seemed to increase the intensity of the orgasm that gripped her. She continued to cling with her mouth to mine even as she began to regain control of her body.

"No one said you could come, you wicked, disobedient slut. Oh, you will pay for that, my dear!" Dianne exclaimed in her fiercest tone.

I broke the kiss and Miss Steeple whispered, "Yes, madam. I couldn't help myself. It... it has been... over twenty years since I have had a decent orgasm."

Dianne made a dismissive sound. "Well, that's something of an excuse; not that it gets you off mind you," she said in a suddenly quieter voice.

Then she rounded on me with mock anger, "And you, you wicked man, you are far too generous..." I stopped her by grabbing her by the back of the neck and subjecting her to the same treatment I had given Miss Steeple. She met me forcefully, throwing her arms around my neck and rubbing her firm, hard nippled tits against my chest.

She broke off the kiss, and keeping one arm around my shoulder, regarded the flushed, just slightly brown skin of Miss Steeple's shoulders and breasts. The woman had her head lowered again and her arms behind her back; our rough handling had shifted her girdle, so her hard left nipple was sticking uncomfortably out of the top of the material. However, she knew well enough not to adjust her clothing without leave.

"Look at me!" Dianne commanded.

"Yes, Madam," she replied looking up, and trying to firm up her face into a serious obedient look by wiping away the bemused satisfied expression that was there.

"Sheis very alluring, isn't she?" Dianne said, her voice dropping and becoming sultry. "What is it?" she mused.

Using her riding crop to emphasize her points, she continued. "The full bottom lip compared to the thinner, but well-formed upper one certainly. Excellent cheek bones. Her nose is fairly large and quite pug at the end, almost, but not quite a little piggy I'd say." At this, she lightly swiped the flap of her crop back and forth across the tip of the uncomplaining woman's nose.

"Yes, the nose is striking, but she also has very good eyes. Hmmmm, large, deep brown, well formed; and a good high forehead, and excellent hair."

She ran the crop over and around Miss Steeple's big breasts, and then down her stomach to her slit. She gave it a tap. "A bit heavy, but the full tits pull it off, and she is well curved in all the right places. Yes, I'd say that if she can be trained, she would make an excellent addition to our staff," Diane concluded.

"Thank you, Madam," Miss Steeple blurted earnestly. Her face showed that she regretted it immediately.