The Pullover
Part One — Preparation for the Cell Called Passive Obedience

Chapters 11 and 12

Elizabeth had a huge smile when she saw me. She took my hand, said, "Boy, you have a shiner," and I followed her upstairs to Miss Nichols' office.

My nose was stopped up but after sleeping in late I didn't have that hot dizzy feeling. Lunch with Mom and Dad was strange. Dad wanted to talk to me afterwards; I think about the birds and bees. I don't know if Mom had put him up to it or if this effort was something he did all on his own. Using a need to use the privy, I escaped him.

Miss Nichols was sitting at her desk when we knocked and she said we could come in. Her hair was down, she took off a pair of reading glasses and set them on the desk. She studied me for a moment and I began to blush. "I understand you were fighting last night, Mr. Johnston."

"They hit him first, miss," Elizabeth said. She gave my hand a squeeze.

"Nevertheless, Mr. Johnston, unless you can better acquit yourself, I recommend you learn the better part of valor is discretion." She smiled, drummed her fingers on the desk; it was a tight-lipped smile.

There were two bright moments in my day so far: Elizabeth's kisses and being speared by Miss Nichols' hazel eyes.

"We're waiting, Mr. Johnston."

A flash of heat went through my body. I unfastened my pants and let them drop, unfastened my shorts, let them fall. I didn't raise my eyes.

"Thank you, Mr. Johnston." Her voice brightened. "Miss Hubner. You have something to report."

"It was twenty-seven, miss." My heart sank. Why did she have to overdo herself on Friday? "But eleven of the twelve."

I groaned. She was even counting the usher who was a freebie.

"Mr. Johnston. We can very well do without your histrionics." Miss Nichols' voice softened. "Carry on, Miss Hubner."

"Eleven of them paid, then beat up Charlie and stole it."

"Mr. Johnston. I'm sure you're aware that the wages of sin are never honestly gotten and easily lost."

I mumbled, "Yes, ma'am."

"What, sir?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"I'm waiting, Mr. Johnston, for your answer." I heard the chair scrape and the rustle of her dress.

"Yes, ma'am," I said looking up. She approached me, took my chin; I winced. She turned my face left and right.

"Any other injuries?"

"My pride, ma'am."

"You have nothing to be proud about, Mr. Johnston." She let go of my chin, gripped my shoulder. "Continue, Miss Hubner."

"So I was wondering if we couldn't just forget the eleven?" Elizabeth smiled at me.

"Nonsense. It's twenty-seven plus an additional twenty-seven. We're making allowances for your condition, Mr. Johnston."

"Thank you, ma'am."

"Do you have a cold?"

"My nose is stuffed up."

"It won't be in a moment, Mr. Johnston." Miss Nichols squeezed my shoulder, gave a smile that made my heart stop then start again double time. "Assume the position, Mr. Johnston."

Her hand spun me in the direction she wanted me to go, followed me down as I bent, hands on my knees. I felt my shirt tail being tossed up onto my back.

"You mark nicely, Mr. Johnston."

"Thank you, ma'am."

"You're so very welcome. When you're ready, Miss Hubner. Fifty-four strokes, slowly done. I want to see Mr. Johnston on his knees by the fifth stroke."

I shut my eyes.

"Relax, Mr. Johnston. This won't kill you." Her fingers gave my shoulder a squeeze.

Her hand remained on my shoulder through the whole ordeal, she kneeling beside me. My shirt and face were covered with tears and snot. My trembling for minutes afterward matched Elizabeth's breathing.

"When you're able, Mr. Johnston, stand and make yourself presentable. You're in the presence of women and are not acquitting yourself well at all." For all her mockery, Miss Nichols' voice was soft, barely above a whisper.

I wiped my face.

"Not your sleeve, Mr. Johnston." She handed me her handkerchief.

I noticed the embroidered N, a beautiful script in black on the white linen. I blew my nose, wiped my face. My hand trembled spasmodically in wild jumps. She took the handkerchief from my fingers, helped me rise.

Miss Nichols wasn't a large woman, shorter than me, in fact. But her hand under my elbow raised me as if I weighed nothing at all.

I fastened my pants, heard Elizabeth lay the cane on the desk. I looked up; Miss Nichols sat behind the desk watching me. Elizabeth to my right looked like a wild carnivore who'd spotted their prey. Her eyes were bright and shiny, her cheeks flushed a scarlet, her dress was missing a second button and had fallen open. I could see her chest move as she panted, one breast was almost completely exposed. Elizabeth's lips were open slightly; her tongue peeked out at me.

"I wish to talk to Mr. Johnston for a moment, Miss Hubner. Do you think you'll be able to restrain yourself?"

Elizabeth stared at me, didn't acknowledge Miss Nichols' words.

Miss Nichols studied Elizabeth for a second and turned to me. I had to remember to keep myself from wiping my running nose with my sleeve.

"Come here, Mr. Johnston." She motioned to behind the desk.

I walked slowly. I was still feeling the sensation of the caning in bright bursts. I was afraid I might stumble.

"Thank you. I know you and Miss Hubner have plans for the weekend. I expect you to acquit yourself well, better than last night."

"Yes, ma'am." Little better than a mumble.

"You interest me."

I raised my eyes and was caught by her stare.

"I would like to begin private tutoring sessions with you while in school. You'll come to this room during third period. We'll be discussing this book." She took a hardbound volume off the desk, held it in her hand. She wiped the cover with the palm of one hand, clasped the book tightly. "The Charterhouse of Parma by an author whose pen name was Stendhal."

"Yes, ma'am."

She smiled at me, a broad smile. "Buck up, it isn't all that bad." She handed me the book; I held it warm from her touch. "You'll read the first fifty-four pages this weekend." Her eyes danced. "Yes, Mr. Johnston. A page for every one of Miss Hubner's affaires."

She watched me, her eyes never blinking.

I couldn't speak.

She rose, her closeness made me step back. "Your sister will meet you in front of the school. I understand you will be undergoing, if all goes well, an important rite of passage for young men this weekend." There was no smile, if anything there was anger.

I stared at her. Did she know everything?

"Well, Mr. Johnston. What do you say?"

"Thank you, Miss Nichols. I will do the assigned reading."

"And meet me here for third period Monday. Very well." She turned to Elizabeth. "Miss Hubner. I expect a full accounting Monday after school. If your labors leave you indisposed, I'll carry out the punishment."

Miss Nichols turned to me. "Mr. Johnston. You are a disgrace. I want you to know that. What you expect us women to do for you is outrageous. No gentleman would even entertain, for one second, the thought of what you expect, without a qualm, this young lady to do for you. Love has made her a fool. I hope she soon sees the error of her ways. Please leave, you disgust me."

Each word was an unexpected blow. Elizabeth took my hand and led me to the door.

Miss Nichols said, "Young lady, not in the hall, not anywhere in this school or you will be expelled. Do I make myself clear? Learn to restrain yourself."

Elizabeth giggled, gave a curtsey and pulled me down the stairs. We heard the door shut overhead. I wiped my runny nose with my sleeve, let Elizabeth pull me where she would.

Elizabeth pushed me against the school building wall. We were outside, three feet from the door. She unfastened my pants, dropped my drawers and kissed me as she fondled my cock. I could feel her rub my cock head against her pussy as she thrust her tongue in my mouth.

My head swam; she fell to her knees and rubbed my cock against her breasts. Somehow, somewhere, she'd taken off her dress. She plunged my cock into her mouth and fucked me.

I shut my eyes and fell into a fantasy in the midst of Elizabeth's ministrations. I knew if I opened my eyes, I would see Miss Nichols. She'd say to me, "You forgot your book, Mr. Johnston."

I took my hand off Elizabeth's head, winced as Elizabeth raked my welts with her fingernails.

Miss Nichols would drop the book into my hand. I opened my mouth to speak, gasped, "Oh."

In my fantasy Miss Nichols held my jaw, squeezed it and stared in my eyes. "Well, Mr. Johnston. I'm waiting."

"Thank you, ma'am."

"I have never seen anything so revolting in my life." My fantasy gave my chin a squeeze and I let out a whimper. Miss Nichols looked like she was preparing to spit on me. She let go of me, turned and left.

I opened my eyes.

Elizabeth said, "Dot got me a new stopwatch. See? You've been bad again."

Chapter 12

Dot was in front of the school standing beside a Model T truck. She didn't look impatient which was a surprise. Elizabeth held my hand in a fierce grip, her other hand held her dress closed, not for modesty, but because it was cold. Of course I'd left my coat at home.

"Get in front," Dot told Elizabeth. "You," she said to me, "ride in back with me."

The bed wasn't very large compared to trucks now. There were three bedrolls and my coat. "Thanks," I said, putting the coat on, and settled beside her leaning up against the cab.

Dot knocked on the cab. "Your problem is, you think about sex all the time." The truck lurched forward, picked up speed. "You and Elizabeth are well-suited." She looked down. "I wouldn't get that book dirty if I were you."

I brushed off the debris; it looked like hay mostly, and put the copy of The Charterhouse of Parma in my pocket. Each bump in the road reminded me of Elizabeth's fifty-four strokes.

Sally's was still quiet. We stood away from the truck while Elizabeth and the driver finished their business, the bedrolls at our feet.

Getting of the truck, Elizabeth said, "You think someone here will have a safety pin?" She showed how she needed one by opening her dress. Dot groaned and told her to get the bedrolls.

Sally's was on the river, set back just a little from the road. Here the land had dropped in elevation so the river was just a few feet from the plowed fields.

The more pious in town prayed that one day the river would wash Sally's downstream or so badly flood the establishment that all the buildings would have to be razed. Sally's withstood the river. Periodically it did flood, and afterwards Sally and her helpers used the flotsam that providence brought as building materials for new additions, shanties and cabins.

Since the land was flat and the soil rich, farm fields came up to the borders of Sally's. A line of sycamore trees was along the bank of the river behind the buildings.

Sally's was a conglomeration of buildings. The roadhouse, a long single-storied structure, faced the road. Now that prohibition was repealed, drinking was open, but there was also food and music.

To the right, behind the roadhouse, was a barn, not very big, about the size of the carriage barn where I received my treatments. Perhaps thirty feet long and sixteen feet wide, in warm weather bands played for dances here. Scattered between the roadhouse and the river were the cabins set haphazardly with no rhyme or reason. Lights strung on wires held up by poles along walks led to the cabins. Some of the electric bulbs were white, some red and some blue. Again no rhyme or reason. Each cabin was a one of a kind. Some were tarpaper covered shacks, a few were neatly clapboarded, one was built of round logs painted black, the rest were rough sawn board sheds. All of the cabins had a large number or letter painted on the door. Dot was leading us to thirteen, one of the tarpaper shacks. It did have a metal chimney above the roof putting out smoke and a stack of cordwood against the wall.

Dot opened the door. "There isn't a lock. You want privacy, use the hook."

Elizabeth stood in the doorway with a smile on her face. She was radiant, carried the bedrolls to the single bed and let them fall. "This is ours?" She turned to face Dot, her dress half open.

I shut the door and stood by the small woodstove putting out heat. It was nicer than it looked outside.

"This is where you'll be working this weekend," Dot said.

Elizabeth walked around the single room touching things. The chair, the washstand made from two by fours and painted green, a bookshelf with several tattered magazines, the row of hooks on one wall, the kerosene lamp on a shelf by the window. She said to me, "Don't you love it?"

What made it nice was how beautiful Elizabeth looked. "I love this cabin and I love you."

"Yeech," Dot said. "We need to get your treatment done so Elizabeth can get to work. Only one treatment tonight." She unrolled a bedroll which turned out to be a blanket and the shroud. "On the floor, big boy."

I undressed, not wanting to leave the stove. Dot spread the blanket on the floor and waited. Elizabeth was next to the bed naked and almost jumping up and down with excitement. She brought her hands behind her neck and up, ruffling her hair. "It's almost like this is our honeymoon, Charlie. I can't wait."

I lay on the blanket and they spread the shroud after tying my arms. "Charlie was bad again this evening," Elizabeth said. All was dark under the shroud. They tucked it close to my body.

"Charlie, can you feel that?" Elizabeth asked.

"Yes," I said.

"That's my nipple." Then she did something else she'd never done before where my cock was enclosed by softness.

"Better watch it, Charlie," Dot said.

I concentrated. I could almost hear music in the distance. I concentrated so hard I lost myself.

"Okay," Dot said. "Hour's up."

I must have been dreaming. "It's been that long?" I asked.

"You're beginning to impress me, brother. You better do something. Elizabeth's beginning to get frantic."

I entered my cock where I was surrounded by sensation. I wondered what Elizabeth was doing. She began to move faster. It was her mouth I realized and a tightness deep inside. I was inside that tightness, probing deeply. I could feel Elizabeth's body on mine. I remembered last night, realized I'd be alone with her tonight, without Dot to stop us.

"Oh God," Elizabeth said. "Do it. Do it."

I could hear her moan as her mouth again dropped over my cock, teeth scraping.

She wants it, I said repeatedly in my mind as my back arched and I came.

Elizabeth's mouth pulled away, her hand held my cock as it pumped and then I felt it rub on her face. "You're in my hair, Charlie. Every man who fucks me tonight will smell you."

"Pleasant thought," Dot said.

I could hear Dot get up from the bed. No springs, but I could hear the rustle of cloth and sound of feet.

"We need to get going, Charlie. Me home, you need to talk to Sally.

Elizabeth pulled the shroud from my face and kissed me. When she pulled way I could see shiny streaks on her cheek and nose and wetness in her hair. She got up and sat on the bed, watched me with a smile.

I got up, rolled up the shroud and blanket and put them under the bed. Elizabeth used her foot to stroke my side. I kissed her ankle and got dressed by the stove.

Elizabeth arranged the covers, put the bedrolls under the bed. It was getting dark so Dot lit the lamp and checked the stove. She went out, brought in an armful of logs. "Every two hours or so, add some. Don't forget."

"I won't forget," Elizabeth said. She lay on her back, on top of the covers, her finger on her pussy. She turned to look at me. "You know how to get me really horny, Charlie."

"They'll give you a token. Sally will throw you out if she finds out you've been taking money. Tomorrow, Charlie will give the tokens to Sally. She'll pay him fifty cents each."

Elizabeth stopped what she was doing. "A whole fifty cents?"

"You're in the big time, girl. They're paying a dollar."

"Give me a kiss, Charlie."

I sat on the bed and we kissed. Afterwards she licked my fingers clean where I'd touched her hair. Dot took me in the back door of the roadhouse, to the left, away from the kitchen. A woman looked up from her desk, smiled at Dot, ignored me completely.

"Sally, this is Charlie, my brother."

"Sit down, Charlie. I'll be with you in a minute." She smiled to Dot. "I won't ask why you three were taking so long."

"Charlie has special treatments, three tomorrow. Morning, noonish and before evening. After Sunday morning, if all goes well, he'll be finished with them. Not that you don't still need work," she said to me.

"I won't see you until Sunday?" Sally asked.

"Not unless there's a problem. There'd better not be a problem, Charlie."

Dot left and Sally and I were alone. Sally wasn't a conventional woman. She was old. At least she was to me then. Now, I think she was about forty. Her face was alert, still beautiful but you could tell in her youth she'd been extraordinarily beautiful. She had a scar that went from above her eyebrow down to her cheek. That eye was covered by a black patch with an embroidered red rose.

She wore lipstick, that and the rose were her color. Her hair was graying, her clothes were gray. She had magnificent breasts. When I saw her standing later I saw her entire figure. Slender waist and hips, she was short compared to Dot and I, a couple of inches shorter than Elizabeth.

"I can see your father in you, Charlie," she said. She relaxed in her seat. "Ben's not a good provider, son, but he is a good man." She took a cigarette from a case on the desk, raised her eyebrow to me. The one with the furrowed scar.

"No thank you, ma'am."

"You can forget the ma'am, son. Sally is okay and I answer to a host of other names." She lit her cigarette. "Dot is something else, isn't she? Always a gambit going, but keeps her cards held close. Ben's been good to your mother?"

I nodded.

"Wheels within wheels, son." She grinned, picked a bit of tobacco from her lip. "Dot tell you how things work here?"

"About the tokens."

Sally reached into a drawer, tossed me one. "Accept no substitutes."

I looked at it. One side of the brass was blank; the other had punched letters reading, "Good for one screw." "I should tell Elizabeth."

"Don't worry. Jasper is giving her the lowdown right now." She took a puff, blew the smoke in the air to the left of her. "That bother you? She's with someone right now?"

I shook my head.

"You're aren't the first to pimp your girlfriend here. You realize of course one day you'll lose her?"

"I hope not."

"It's not too late." She watched me, a smile on her face.

"I think she's happy."

"Good. Jasper'll be giving me a report in a few minutes." She stubbed out her cigarette. "Want to stay or are you eager to head to the bar."

"I don't drink, ma'am."

"You say, ma'am another time, I'll bend you across my knee and spank you." She grinned at me. "Try it."

"I wouldn't dare, miss."

"So what do you drink?"

"Coca-cola."

"We have that. Have you eaten?"

I shook my head. "She hasn't either."

"We run a tab. In the morning you clear the tab with what you make the night before. Any left over is your profit."

"I understand."

"So you don't drink. Willing to do chores around here? I'll pay you."

I nodded. "Tomorrow perhaps. I'm getting over a cold."

"Tomorrow's fine. We won't get ahead of ourselves." She shifted in her seat. "Jasper's having a fine time. She'll be popular here."

"She's wonderful."

"I'm sure she is. You relax, I've got work to do."

I took out the book Miss Nichols gave me. I stood, took off my coat and hung it from the back of my chair.

Sally looked up for a moment and returned to her work.

Go on to read the next two chapters.

The Pullover Page
Chapters 1 and 2 | Chapters 3 and 4 | Chapters 5 and 6 | Chapters 7 and 8
Chapters 9 and 10 | Chapters 11 and 12 | Chapters 13 and 14 | Chapters 15 and 16
Chapters 17 and 18 | Chapters 19 and 20 | Chapters 21 and 22
Chapters 23 and 24 | Chapter 25

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