Skinning the Cat

So we got divorced. She dropped the old boyfriend and tried to get me take her back. I just wasn't going there. It got pretty bad; her calling and begging all the time so I found another job in Maryland, submitted my resignation and left California. Now I'm here and she's on the other side of the country. Only my parents and brothers no where I live now, and I plan to keep it that way."

Dillon told me all this and then he looked me squarely in the eye and said, "Elizabeth Sherry broke my heart. I never intend to fall into that trap again, but I will be good to you in my way. I won't betray you. I've had that experience and I could never do that to anyone, but I want you to know I don't love you. I'll never love another woman again as long as I live."

I saw the pain in his eyes, but when he said he didn't love me I didn't completely believe him. I wasn't sure. I thought at that moment he probably didn't love me, but he most certainly was someone who needed the emotional attachment a loving caring woman could provide.

I knew I was a loser, but I'd read a lot of fiction novels. We all have our silly dreams. I had mine. I can't recall how many stories I'd read where the long suffering boy finds the right girl, she soothes the pain, plies a balm to the scars, and restores the unhappy man to love and happiness. I knew right then and there Dillon Westcott needed me, and I was going to be there for him. He might not love me at the moment, but one day he would. I'd be there for him.

Well Dillon had finished his story; he looked around at the clock and said, "How about dinner. Let's go get some pizza." And pizza it was.

Later that night we found ourselves back in his bed. This time there weren't any scarves or handcuffs, just some very intimate and warm lovemaking. He did however remind me that from then on I should keep my vagina clear of hair. He said one day he might let me grow some of it back, but that he'd decide when. I kissed him and said, "Yes your majesty."

The next day, Saturday, we went shopping. He said he wanted to buy me some clothes. I'm a woman so naturally I agreed. He startled me though, and I began to wonder just what he was up to. We went to several places, and he insisted we buy several very short skirts, thin blouses, a bunch of camisoles and low cut bras. He demanded I let him buy me three pairs of high heeled shoes, and several sets of panty hose that would match the dark colors of the skirts. When we had everything in bags and in the trunk of his car he told me that starting the Monday after Thanksgiving these were the things he expected me to wear. I was a little shocked because I knew the things he got me were too provocative for a public school. I didn't say anything though because I didn't believe him. Brother was I wrong.

We ate in at his apartment Saturday night, and like the week before he took me home early Sunday. Saturday night I tell you was something wonderful; we did our first sixty-nine. He was an animal; he just wouldn't let me go. He was careful though. He didn't ejaculate in my mouth or on my face. He pulled away, calmed down, and then climbed on. I was a mess. He kept going and going. I was physically like a limp dishrag before he finally released his stuff in me, and like all the other times it went way up inside.

I was getting worried. I sincerely loved him. I believed he would come to love me too, but it seemed like he was trying to put so much in me that I would get pregnant. I even asked him if I should buy some birth control material. He told me no, not to bother. He scared me when he said that, but he was always scaring me. I kind of thought maybe getting pregnant was what we both needed. I know that really sounds stupid.

We saw very little of each other during the short Thanksgiving week. The seventh grade administrator had gotten sick so the ninth and eighth grade administrators had to divide their time with the seventh grade. Dillon was upstairs as much as he was down. Then Wednesday came and Dillon told me he had to go home for the holiday. That left alone me so I went to be with my family. Oh well...

Not having gotten back to my apartment until very late that Sunday after Thanksgiving and reluctant to call Dillon for fear of interrupting his family time I hadn't heard from him since the Wednesday before. I was surprised to see he'd left a message on my answering machine. It was Dillon! He was so pleasant, he hoped I'd had a good time with my people, he said he'd enjoyed his time away; the last thing he did was to remind me about all my new clothes and what I was supposed to do.

I looked everything over again. It wasn't that anything was obscene or vulgar; it was more that everything was just a little on the wrong side of appropriate for a public school, especially for a middle school full of rambunctious testosterone filled adolescents. The skirts and dresss were too short, way too short. The blouses were too thin, and they were all just this side of translucent with buttons that went down the front but were way too far apart. The bras were cut too low, the heels were too high, and the earrings too large and long, the bracelets had too much of the bangle, and the makeup he'd bought me, especially the lipstick, was far too bold. However, I talked myself into wearing the stuff. Dillon liked it, and I wanted to please him.

I was noticed the first day, and by Wednesday of the first week I was greeted by hushed comments and suspicious side-looks. By Thursday of the next week the surreptitious comments were out in the open; the other teachers, secretaries, and staff had grown openly hostile. That Thursday I saw parents in Dillon's office, and the parents had been looking at me. On Friday the proverbial shit finally hit the fan.

Friday, just before my last period I received a memo from our school's principal; she wanted to see me before I left at the end of the day. I knew what it was about. Dillon's insistence on what I wear had gotten me trouble.

I waited outside the principal's office fully expecting a level one reprimand. I knew after this afternoon Dillon and I had to talk. The door was opened and I was ushered into our principal's office.

Our principal was an older woman named Miss Gwendolyn Ashburton; she was seventy if she was a day. Miss Ashburton was 'old school', a holdover from a by-gone era. Why had I been so stupid? Then I got the humiliation of my life; seated catty-cornered from Miss Ashburton was my Mr. Westcott and he didn't look happy.

Miss Ashburton looked at me none too fondly and pointed to a chair in front of her desk, "Have a seat please Miss Caldwell."

Self-consciously pushing my way too short hem down as far as I could I sat down. I felt naked. I'd forgotten to button the top buttons to my blouse. Dillon had called each evening to remind me to remain 'free and uninhibited', and I had done as I'd been told.

Miss Ashburton's expression wasn't exactly a scowl, but it was certainly a look of disapproval, "Miss Caldwell we've a problem."

I played the innocent, "We do?"

"You know we don't have a dress code here, at least not precisely, but your attire these last few days has created something of a furor."

"Ma'am", I submitted shyly.

Then she scowled, "Look at yourself Elizabeth. Your blouse exposes your décolletage. Your skirt is sinfully short. Your jewelry jangles and bangles more than the twelve year old girls you teach."

I glanced at Dillon but saw no support there. In fact he looked more upset than Miss Ashburton. Under the circumstances I delivered the most innocent look I dared, "I'm sorry. I mean I apologize for my attire. I'll make the necessary adjustments immediately."

Miss Ashburton evinced the tiniest glimmer of a smile. She peered slightly side-wise to Dillon, "You care to comment Mr. Westcott?"

Dillon obliterated me, "Thank you Miss Ashburton. I'm sorry it came to this. As I told you I did try twice this week to persuade Miss Caldwell to modify her attire. I told her what she was wearing was a little avant-garde for our tastes, but I imagine, coming from a man, my suggestions were too soft or shall I say too vague. I'm glad you laid it out for her. Honestly I've been surprised. Miss Caldwell's attire had been mature and modest up until Thanksgiving. It's only been this last week. I'm confident now, thanks to your guidance," he nodded toward Miss Ashburton in the most insincere manner I could imagine, "that things will be better."

Miss Ashburton looked down at me as though I were one of the eighth graders I taught, "I hope so Mr. Westcott. I'll be checking."

Dillon smiled at Miss Ashburton, then at me, "Oh I'm confident we'll have Miss Caldwell back to the norm in no time. I know she'll cooperate; she's been a dedicated teacher up till now. I don't think we'll have this kind of problem anymore."

Miss Ashburton looked at me again, "Can we count on you Elizabeth?"

My face was bright red. I almost lost control. I realized I'd been set up, and then embarrassed and humiliated in the worst way imaginable. I know my chest must have been berry red when I nodded, eyes brimming with tears, I said, "Oh Miss Ashburton, Mr. Westcott I can assure you I'll change. I promise. I'll change."

Miss Ashburton stood, walked around her desk. She graced me with the kind of smile only my own mother could bestow, then she said, "That's wonderful dear. We'll keep this out of your record, and there'll be no punitive action taken."

I smiled back, "Thank you Miss Ashburton. I smiled at Mr. Westcott, "And thank you too Mr. Westcott."

He grinned, "It's all a part of the job."

I picked up my pocket book and my briefcase, and hurried out of the office. Once out of the outer office and in the hallway I started to run for my car. Tears billowed down my cheeks. 'How could he! How could he!' I drove home, got in and ran for the bed. No sooner had my head hit the pillow, already crying, than my phone rang. I picked it up. It was Dillon.

Dillon asked, "Where are you? Why aren't you at my apartment?"

I yelled, "How could you do that to me?"

I heard him laugh; then he replied, "Get over here right away."

I yelled back into the receiver, "I'm not coming!"

He was still laughing, "Oh yes you are. You've got twenty minutes," and he hung up.

I wasn't twenty minutes. I got there in fifteen. I was so furious. I ran up the steps to his apartment, took my key, opened it and went right in.

He was waiting for me on the sofa, and he was full of grins. He said, "Come here and sit down."

I was all out of breath from all the stairs. I went over. I hadn't even changed clothes. I said, "That was cruel. I might have even lost my job."

He kept grinning, "Yes it was cruel, but you have tenure, your job is secure...but!"

I said, "But what?"

He was still smiling; it was a positively shit eating smile too, "You do have to be punished."

"What," I said.

"You need to be punished."

I scoffed, "Oh come on."

He said, "You know what you need?"

I was still really angry, "No what?"

"You need a good spanking."

I sat back, "A what?"

He leaned forward and took my right wrist and started to pull me forward, "You need to be spanked. Yes a good thrashing will do you nicely."

This was too much, way too much! I liked him. I even loved him, but not that...he yanked me over his knees, pulled my skirt up, and before I knew what hit me he had my pantyhose and panties down around my knees. He said, "This is going to hurt me than it's going to hurt you."

I tried to squirm and get away. No luck!

I felt the first crack of his left hand on my right cheek. I yelped. I yelped more from surprise than from the pain. My holler was immediately followed a second smack on my left cheek.

"That hurt!" I cried out, "Stop it. That hurt!"

He wasn't listening. Smack after smack, left cheek, then right cheek, then the left cheek again.

I tried to bite his leg. I thought that might make him stop. He ignored my feeble chomp and smacked me twice more on each cheek. By then I was in full cry mode.

I really started blubbering, "Oh stop. Please...please stop. You're hurting me." I burst into a full-fledged crying cycle. He stopped.

The next thing I felt was were his lips as he started kissing my ass. He was kissing my cheeks precisely where he'd just been smacking them. They felt so raw and hot; the kisses barely registered.

He curled me around so I was sideways, my ass on its side, but my face in his chest, He started stroking my hair and began kissing me on the face. He kissed my forehead, and my nose, and my cheeks, stopping only at my mouth when he murmured, "I could really get used to you."

He scooped me up and carried me into the bedroom where he made me get on my knees and elbows. "I'm going to make love to your now, but I can't have you on your back. Not while your ass is so bright red." He chuckled, "My goodness that is a cherry red ass."

I felt him as he slowly penetrated me. I had no idea I was so wet. It felt so good. It was tight, snug, but it didn't hurt. He slithered in. God he felt wonderful. I always got immersed in good thoughts and emotions when he was inside me.

I lost track of everything. With my face pressed against the bed I kissed the bedspread and used my hands to grab and squeeze its soft textured material. He leaned forward. His breath was hot against my back, neck, and hair. I smelled his cologne; his spicy cologne. God I loved the way he smelled. I loved the way he made me feel! Then I felt his semen flood my insides; oh it was so hot, so strong, so real.

I was still crying, but not from the spanking.

Dillon rolled off me. He rolled me over so I was facing him, "I know I played a mean trick. I'm sorry, but I had to see."

I pressed against him, "See what?"

"Not now, he said, "just let me hold you, let's cuddle," he kissed my hair.

I pressed as close to him as I could. I kept thinking this had been some kind of test; like a loyalty test. I didn't care. I'd never quite felt this way before, so loved, so warm, so...so totally happy. We both drifted off to sleep.

For once I woke up first. I had to pee. I slipped into the bathroom to handle my oblations, and also check on the damage. Yes my ass did hurt. I could see why. I didn't think there'd be any bruising, but it sure was a bright cherry red. My ass was redder than a fire truck!

Just as I was looking over my damaged rear-end Dillon appeared at the door. He saw me. He saw my behind, "I'm sorry," he said, "I guess I overdid it," he reached toward the door of his linen closet, "let me get something for it." He found a bottle of aloe and took my hand.

He said, "Let me make it up to you." He led me back to the bedroom, pulled down the bedspread and lifted me on the bed face and stomach down. He whispered, "I promise I'll be gentle."

Gentle? Gentle wasn't a good enough word for the way he treated me. Gosh I felt so good; I mean I felt special, it was like I was some puppy or some cherished kitten. I stretched and curled and twisted in what I had to call a kind of lethargic luxury. I was warm all over. He didn't just rub my behind; he used the aloe to rub and massage me all over. He rubbed my back. He caressed my legs, my upper thighs, my calves with his hands. He rolled me over. He kissed my tummy and my navel, and my breasts. He soothed aloe all around my breasts. Then he nibbled and gently sucked on my aureole. Each nipple got its own special kiss.

Before I knew it I was fully on my back with his head up at my neck. He was inside me again. I couldn't stand it; it was unbearable. I pushed him away and kissed myself down to his stomach, then to his thing. God it was so big, and pink, and so hard! I wasn't sure, but I think he was circumcised. I only know I thought it, he, was beautiful. I kissed his thing again. I had him in my mouth. I wasn't sure what to do so I kind of sucked, kind of kissed on it. I didn't feel degraded. I didn't feel embarrassed. I felt happy. I felt pleased. His big thing was beautiful to me. I pressed it back and forth against my eyes and nibbled on it with my teeth. I thought, 'If he wanted to squirt his semen in my face it would be OK by me.'

He made me stop. He pulled me back up, and the next thing I knew he was back inside me.

I had my arms around his head and my legs wrapped around his waist while he kept pushing up in me. We were making love; it was indescribable. He did it again, he shot up in me! I felt like crying, but didn't I was so happy.

We lay there together, him on top, me underneath. He was so strong; it was magical. The next thing I knew it was Saturday morning, and I heard him fixing breakfast.

I slipped on one of his white shirts and crept in the kitchen. The eggs were almost finished. The bacon smelled scrumptious. He turned and saw me. He said, "I think you should move in."

[It's June again. Theresa was still asleep.]

I looked at the kitchen clock. Jeez I'd been daydreaming. It was nearly 8:00; Dillon and the kids would be up soon. Well I don't know; guess I've got time for another cup before I start. This is Theresa's big day, not mine.

With more cream and sugar in my coffee I sat back down.

[Let's go back. More day dreams.]

Yeah we got me moved in that weekend. The next few weeks before Christmas were some of the best days of my life. It didn't take the other teachers or students very long to figure out Dillon and I were an item. I mean lunch together every day, coming and going each morning and evening in the same car, sitting beside each other at the school-wide faculty meetings. No one said anything, and I think Miss Ashburton even approved; she always smiled at me anyway.

I was worried though. This was my third year in the system, but it was Dillon's first. He'd just transferred to Maryland from California. He didn't have the job security I had, and I didn't want him to get in trouble. I didn't realize it at the time, but I was worrying about a problem that didn't exist. We never missed any time. We never argued. Dillon had problems with a few of the teachers; a couple men felt they were pretty self-important and Dillon was constantly smoothing ruffled feathers. There were a few teachers, mostly men but one woman, the other teachers referred to as 'the bounty hunters'. These were teachers who were constantly on the prowl; looking for a problem, a misbehaved child, a miscreant teacher, a custodian who missed a trash can. I guess all schools and all businesses have them. With people like that always around, little schoolyard romances like ours hardly made the news.

We did have a problem with one teacher. I remember him. It happened after the Christmas break. He was an unhappy old fart; a short statured balding fellow with an overlarge stomach. I guess he thought since Dillon and I were 'fooling around' that he could 'tap' some of me too.

I can't even remember his name, but he started to 'come on' to me. I was surprised. Remember this was me, the classic 'wallflower'; the old maid who a few weeks before never dreamed she'd be talking to let alone sleeping and living with the school 'dreamboat'.

Well Mr. almost bald big tummy guy started trying to 'chat me up'. He even touched me a time or two on my arm. He brushed the back of his hand against one of my boobs.

Once he gave me what I found out later was called a 'power squeeze'. He came up behind me while I was seated in the lunchroom. He put his hands on my shoulders and squeezed me. Several other teachers saw it. I squiggled out of it, but not before my Dillon saw it.

Dillon came over. He was all business. He stepped up to Mr. bald-headed fat stomach and said, "I'll be in to observe this Thursday."

Bald-head big stomach said, "What you don't like it when someone gets too close to Caldwell here? What she your private stock?"