It’s Called Real Beauty
I resisted the almost overwhelming urge to take it all off and get into you as soon as I could. You were wearing a tight black latex mini-skirt, that hugged your body and sparkled as it reflected light of its freshly oiled surface. Underneath the skirt were my favourite sheer nylon stocking, with the fashioned heel and seam up the back. The stockings were attached to a new purchase, an 8-strap suspender belt with metal clasps, ala Dita von Teese. It cost a fortune! But was worth every penny as. Finally she selected a medoum weight, rather long straight cane. She took up her stance behind the boy. No practice lunges now - the first stroke bit right in and the boy screamed.I knew it was not use to scream and beg for mercy. Miss Priscilla thrived on the pain of boys. So he might as well scream his head off. And he did. Cut after cut followed, each delivered with precision. The boys buttocks were soon a mass of livid stripes.And then it happened - a particularly vicious stroke landed. Real relationships seemed impossible.Everyone knew me as the prim and proper girl who liked learning. Even among the nerd boys, I seemed an off limits alien. At one point, I shared chemistry class with five of them from my core friends group. They made naughty jokes and seemed genuinely surprised that I wanted to be included. They lightly flirted with me; mostly finding excuses to touch me during labs. Even so, none of them thought to make an actual move. They preferred, from my perspective, to. I swear if I was some giddy little girl I would've squealed and fainted, but since I'm not, I smiled invitingly and started running, my skirt hiking up a few inches. I could feel the glares and the stares. As class ended, I walked into a stall and soaped up my body. Since I was turned away from the door with soap running down my face, I didn't know anyone was there until I felt rough hands grabbing my waist. I stifled a scream as I was being dragged against a hard naked body. Feeling a huge.
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