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

Chapters 7 and 8

Elizabeth and I had to go to Miss Nichols' office after school for detention. After the humiliation of art class and punishment by Dot at lunch my desire to run very far away was the strongest it had been since my treatments began.

The only things that made life worth living were my feelings for Elizabeth and how exciting my days had become. Other feelings existed which at the time were barely recognized and a little frightening. Like how I felt kneeling before art class with Elizabeth's shoe on the back of my head. I was close enough to her to smell the familiar heady odor she gave off. I was filled with shame but for part of that time my cock was very hard.

During my punishment at lunchtime, I was leaned up against the abutment of the stone bridge, down by the river, traffic passing overhead. My pants were at my ankles while Dot used an old leather belt. I was allowed to look to my left where Elizabeth squatted facing me, her dress pulled up over her hips, both hands busy at her crotch, her blue eyes fixed on my ass, mouth open, pink tongue sliding slowly across her beautiful lips.

Afterwards Elizabeth was unexpectedly diligent when giving me my treatment and I spent much too quickly. Dot punished me again while Elizabeth licked her fingers and looked up at me. "I love you," she said. I was too busy responding to the blows Dot gave me to reply. Elizabeth's ardor frightened me sometimes. I thought she had limits, a prescribed range of behaviors which were predictable. She constantly surprised me. I tried to hide the surprise behind my usual docile demeanor. Not easy to do when a wide leather belt is being swung with a lot of force and your girlfriend has your come on her face and hands.

I was literally spent by the time school was over. We knocked and Miss Nichols said from within, "Enter."

Her office was dainty and feminine, a surprising contrast to Miss Nichols' forbidding exterior. The book shelves on one wall also held pretty painted vases with flowers. Pictures on the wall, framed by wide oak boards, were of slender males in Shakespearean dress. The walls themselves were painted a pale ivory that reflected back the sunlight from the windows which had curtains at their sides and nothing to obscure the view from the back of the school.

Miss Nichols sat at her desk; the note and stacks of coins were in front of her as was a long leather covered cane. She'd opened the top buttons of her collar so we could see the delicate white lace at her slender neck. Her hair was let down and fell across her shoulders and around her face in a thick dark cascade. Seen in this aspect, Miss Nichols was disarmingly beautiful.

The office's chairs had been drawn back to the walls — we were expected to stand. Miss Nichols smiled at Elizabeth, her frown for me was fixed. Her fingers stroked the cane lightly, her hand in the air above it. She touched and played that cane like a pianist their instrument. Fingers flicked, softly touched or pounded the cane according to an inner tune only Miss Nichols heard.

"You may as well drop your pants now, Mr. Johnston." She turned to Elizabeth. "This whole sordid affair troubles me, Elizabeth. I hope I may be so familiar. I trust your meeting at lunch time went well."

"Yes, miss," Elizabeth said.

"Hurry up, Mr. Johnston. We can't be kept waiting all day for you." She turned her smile to Elizabeth. "Whatever feelings I have about these shenanigans I must temper them because of your youth, inexperience and unwarranted affection for this young Casanova.

"You, sir." She turned to me. "Hands to your sides. I care nothing about your pitiful little thingie." She stopped and I was sure I noticed her eyes widen and lips part slightly. "My, but you do have a big one. No matter." She turned to Elizabeth. My sobs drew her attention back to me. "Whatever is your problem?"

I wiped my hand across my face but kept my head bowed and mouth shut. It was shameful to have Miss Nichols verify my sister's appraisal of my debased state. What made it worse was knowing in advance what Elizabeth's reaction to the situation would be.

Miss Nichols rose from her desk, and came by my side. Her fingers squeezed my shoulder. "Contain yourself, Mr. Johnston."

I gave a quick nod of the head, took the proffered embroidered handkerchief and blew my nose. "I'm sorry," I said softly.

She lifted my chin with her fingers and turned my face toward hers. "My, but you are a sensitive scoundrel, aren't you?"

Her hazel eyes and the perfection of her features harrowed my soul. I began to tremble; her fingers on my shoulders helped me remember where I was and my unfortunate state.

She studied my face for a moment longer, said, "You aren't quite the shallow cad I thought you were." Her former authority was reinstated by, "Turn away from us, Mr. Johnston. Your aspect doesn't please me."

She swung my shoulder in a direction and I followed through until I faced away from the desk.

"Bend forward, Mr. Johnston. Hands on your knees."

There was a moment's silence and I felt a finger lightly touch my lower back. "Your father's work, no doubt."

"No, miss. His sister's," Elizabeth said.

The finger lightly traced a line across my buttocks. "Mr. Johnston, I'm surprised at your behavior in light of your sister's loving touch and the corrective impulse behind it. No matter." The finger left me.

That finger burned me like no whip ever had.

My sobs recommenced and my hands and arms trembled as I held my knees. I prayed I wouldn't faint or die of shame. In contrast, my heart beat wildly and I felt a surprising exhilaration.

Miss Nichols sat at her desk, spoke to Elizabeth. "I know more about your activities than you can ever believe. While I can't condone them entirely, I also understand that you perform a very necessary labor for this benighted community. Necessary and not necessarily demeaning. Remember that."

She paused and I could hear the coins tinkle together. "One dollar twenty-three cents. How much, Elizabeth? Is it by the act, by an allotted time?"

"A quarter, Miss Nichols."

"So this is for five?"

"Yes, miss. Larry was two cents short. He promised to make it up to me tomorrow."

"See that he does, dear." Miss Nichols paused while thinking. "How many in the past, oh, twenty-four hours?"

Elizabeth took so long I turned to look at her. She was counting on her fingers, frowning, shaking her head, raising a finger, nodding. Miss Nichols was patient through the whole performance. "I'm not sure, miss. There were six before lunch, two after, Charlie of course."

"Of course."

"Last night, since after school? Two in the alley after Charlie gave me the ring. Then Clancy's and I'm not sure since I don't need to count. It's flat rate, miss."

"Guess."

"Twenty?"

"At Clancy's?"

"Yes, miss."

Miss Nichols was silent for a moment. "Twenty-nine but it could be more, couldn't it?"

"Do I have to count my father?"

"It could have been forty. Plus Mr. Johnston."

"We've done it four times."

"Interesting. Mr. Johnston acquits himself well then?"

"We haven't done it all the way, miss. Charlie's getting his treatment because he's . . ."

"I think I see."

The silence in the room was broken by the harsh crack of the cane against the desk. "You astound me, Mr. Johnston." I heard the chair scrape on the floor. "Elizabeth, you and Mr. Johnston will come to my office after school for detention through the school year. You are to keep accurate count of the number of men this scoundrel has sold you to and we will have reparations. A stroke of the cane for each assault on your feminine virtue. If you aren't able to deliver the strokes adequately, I will perform the punishment. I promise you Mr. Johnston will be on his hands and knees after my first stroke."

"Are you sure, miss?"

"Forty, dear. Make them bracing, space each one well apart so he might enjoy the full effect. I hope the chastisement will temper his behavior but frankly I have little hope."

Her strong fingers gripped my shoulder. "No antics, Mr. Johnston."

If Miss Nichols hadn't restrained me, I would have been out the door after the first stroke. Elizabeth seemed to be unbelievably severe for such a sweet girl.

I was on my knees shrieking, blubbering and trembling uncontrollably when Elizabeth was done. Miss Nichols gave my shoulder a final squeeze and left me.

I could hear Elizabeth pant next to me. It seemed to me that the heat of her endeavors made her scent stronger.

"Face me, Mr. Johnston."

I turned slowly on my knees and saw through my tears Miss Nichols sitting behind her desk. Her face was flushed and her eyes unusually bright.

"Mr. Johnston. We'll anticipate Elizabeth's number for the weekend on Friday so that Monday won't be unbearable for you." She turned to Elizabeth who held the cane with both hands close to her stomach, one end of the implement of torture nestled between her breasts. "Elizabeth, you did very well." She rustled papers on her desk. "Off with the both of you."

I stood, pulled up my pants. I burned and explosions of sensation still poured through my body. Elizabeth took my hand and drew me to the door.

"Mr. Johnston," Miss Nichols said behind me. "You are forgetting something."

I turned to face her and saw her finger pointing to the money. "No, Elizabeth. Mr. Johnston will take it."

I walked slowly to the desk trying not to look at Miss Nichols' face. I reached for the coins and she took my hand and squeezed it with unexpected force.

"What do you say, Mr. Johnston?"

I stared at her face and was lost in her gaze. I blinked first under the intensity of her unremitting stare, said, "Thank you."

She let go of my hand. I took the coins. She smiled at me; I had a glimpse of her perfect teeth. "Mr. Johnston, you show promise. I look forward to our meeting tomorrow." I knew I was dismissed when her eyes left me.

Elizabeth took my hand at the door and she pulled me down the stairs, out into the schoolyard, across to the ravine. I looked over my shoulder and saw Miss Nichols in her office window, her hand on the pane by her face.

Elizabeth ravished me with her mouth and even after I was done, clawed my buttocks with her fingernails. Her eyes never left mine. Eventually she had to breathe. Her fingers still stroking the welts she'd given me, she drew her mouth away and smiled up to me. "You're so brave," she said. "I love you so very much."

I swayed above her.

Elizabeth held the stopwatch up to me. "But you've been very bad and I'm telling Dot."

Chapter 8

That was a hectic week. Dot arranged for Elizabeth and me to spend the weekend at Sally's. I'll never know how she convinced my parents. Our weekend would be a working weekend. Dot rented a cabin for us, seven dollars and fifty cents on the tote plus the interest, where Elizabeth could work. As part of the deal Elizabeth would get a free consultation with Sally.

Dot said Dad would be staying at home for a while but didn't give a reason if she knew of one. Dot decided that my bed was too cramped for the both of us so I slept on the floor on old blankets and feed sacks. My hands were tied as usual, this time to a leg of the bed.

I wonder years later what the twins thought of this arrangement. They were in bed when I came up late at night. I had to wake Dot which was awful because doing that always put her in a nasty mood. She took the money, waited for me to undress, never silent of course, a series of remarks on what had become standard subjects ensued, she tied my hands and went back to sleep.

The twins heard all these comments, saw me in the morning sometimes, watched Dot's treatment of me and they never said a word. A portion of my earnings was given to Mom every day. Mom never acted as if she noticed the fruit of my labors. Dad slept in and wasn't awake when I went downstairs so my only knowledge of his presence was his loud snores at night in the next room and his workboots in the hall by the foot of the stairs.

What made the week hectic was Dot's alteration of two main components: my treatments and our arrangement at Clancy's. The arrangement at Clancy's ended Tuesday night with Dot arguing loudly with the bartender and owner. Threats were made involving law enforcement (which existed in our town but was awfully lax). My understanding afterwards was that if the law were called another item would have been added to my tote.

All of a sudden Elizabeth's and my nights were free; our only problem being where and how to work off my debt.

Dot had that problem solved too.

You have to realize that years later when Dot returned to this state, she didn't marry the judge for respectability. He married her for her money. Other reasons too, of course, Dot is beautiful, but that was the clincher.

Dot figured Elizabeth could make more Friday and Saturday nights at Sally's, along with the after church trade on Sunday thrown in, to more than make up for what Elizabeth made at Clancy's, expenses, cabin and meals included.

Elizabeth and I did have more time to be together and we used it productively downtown in the soda shop and movie theater. Elizabeth still worked, of course, and our mixing in society, or what passed for society, expanded Elizabeth's exposure.

In other words, things kept on getting better for her. Elizabeth still could visit with her Clancy's regulars in her first spot on the river. She also had several alleys, a hallway, the movie theater itself once the lights were off and she made use of all.

The fundamental change in the treatment was initiated Tuesday evening after leaving Clancy's for the last time. Elizabeth followed Dot; I held Elizabeth's hand but was last in line. Elizabeth and Dot were having words since this was all as much a surprise to Elizabeth as it was to me. It was after nine, dark, November and cold as we crossed town.

"What's the idea, busting in on me while I was having a party?" Elizabeth asked.

"Shut up," Dot said.

"No, I won't shut up."

"You will if you know what's good for you."

"What are you saying?"

"Do you love Charlie?"

"Of course I love him."

"And you want to do what's best for him?"

"Of course. Always. Don't I, Charlie?"

I kept my mouth shut.

"Charlie's arrangement at Clancy's was costing him, Elizabeth. I know you're doing your best. And I know I left it up to you two to work things out, but you both are idiots."

"I'm not." Elizabeth looked at me.

While it was prudent to keep my mouth shut where my sister was involved, the opposite was true in the case of Elizabeth. "You're not stupid."

"That's what I said." Elizabeth hurried, pulling me after her, to catch up with Dot.

Dot grinned at me when we caught up. It was a grin full of promise. "From now on," Dot said, "what you do outside of allotted times is up to you two. But we have a strict schedule we need to keep."

Why? I thought but didn't dare say aloud.

"And procedures." She went through a gate. "Back here."

We followed her through a backyard to an unused carriage barn. I didn't know whose house it was, but the barn was definitely not that unusual.

In 1933 horses and wagons were still used. Tyler was out in the country surrounded by farms. For many, a horse and wagon or buggy still made more sense than a car.

Dot struck a match and lit the lamp.

"Is it okay to do that?" I asked.

She glanced at me with that look. "Take off your clothes and lie down on your back."

I had a choice to make. Argue and get beaten. Comply rapidly and perhaps not get beaten so badly. I undressed.

"What's going on?" Elizabeth asked.

"Just watch and you'll see."

I lay down on the rough wood floor. It had been swept but was dusty and smelled of old hay.

"Arms on your chest."

I did it, saw her drop a coil of rope by my side and kneel.

"Like this," she said arranging my arms so they crossed each other and each hand touched the other arm's elbow. She tied me quickly. "Are you watching, Elizabeth?"

"Yes. Are you going to whip him?" I thought I heard a note of eagerness in her voice.

"Probably not. You caned him this afternoon, didn't you?"

"Forty." She said it with a smile.

"We don't want to overdo it, do we?"

No, I thought. I waited for Elizabeth's answer but she was still trying to decide.

Dot got up and walked out of my sight. She came back holding a roll of cloth. "The piece de resistance." She let it unfurl.

Dot had sewn several feed bags together. In the center was a hole about nine or ten inches in diameter. "Take the other end," Dot said.

They held the cloth over me and lowered it. I couldn't see anything with the cloth over my face. The darkness was interesting. My other senses became more acute. I could hear Dot and Elizabeth move about the barn. I felt cool air over my genitals.

They pushed the fabric close to my sides so I could feel it not just on the upper surfaces of my body. They whispered and I heard Elizabeth's giggle. The cloth was lifted from my face and Dot asked, "Are you okay in there?"

I blinked up at her. I felt Elizabeth's hand on my cock. Dot covered my face.

"The problem from the beginning," Dot said. The hand stopped moving on my cock. "Keep doing everything as before. You're keeping track of the time, aren't you?"

"I always do, Dot. You know that."

"Good. The problem was we had a cock and we had my brother. Originally I wanted to separate the two and it would definitely have made our lives easier." Elizabeth began to speak. "No, I agree. The ax was crude and unnecessary."

I sighed.

"So we tried to alter my brother's behavior. And we have, to a very small extent. What we should have done was taken measurements before we began the treatments. It's a pity we didn't. But I," Dot kicked me. "Are you paying attention under there?"

"Yes, Sis."

"I think it's definitely smaller."

My heart skipped a beat.

"I'm not so sure, Dot," Elizabeth said. "See?"

My heart almost stopped. I wanted to cry.

"No, I'm sure it is smaller. Maybe not small enough."

"Oh," I said.

Dot kicked me. "Who asked you?"

I felt Elizabeth's lips on my cock.

"So I've separated the cock from the man. If the cock is very good." She paused.

"He's so very good," Elizabeth said. Her lips returned to my cock.

"If he's very good all week, for every treatment. At least an hour, never less, better longer. I believe," she kicked me. "Are you listening?"

"Yes," I said.

"I believe that it is entirely possible that my brother's cock will no longer be a virgin at the end of the weekend."

"You mean?" Elizabeth stopped what she was doing.

"I don't think Charlie knows enough how or when to be good. But I think his cock does."

"Do you?" Elizabeth said. I think she was talking to my cock.

"Three treatments a day. Morning before school. Two in the evening. All here. All under the shroud for Charlie, all out in the open for his cock where he may frisk and play, as long as he is good."

I heard shoes near my head; Sis lifted the cloth. "What do you say, Charlie?"

"Please let it be true." There were tears in my eyes.

Dot smiled at me, tossed the cloth back over my face. "Make him suffer, Elizabeth. Make every moment an agony."

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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