Chapter 2

Mr. Sanders was grinning at me when he spoke. The joy in his eyes at discovering me, splayed out in front of him, gushing all over my fingers like that, didn't match the harshness in his voice at all when he said, "I suggest that you put those magazines back where you found them and get your slutty little cunt downstairs, young lady!" It was the first time anyone had ever called me a slut, and just the sound of the word started my pussy gushing again. I scrambled to follow his orders and gathered up my step father's mags. By the time I turned around again from the far corner of the loft, he had already disappeared. He was waiting for me below the opening and that only made my pussy gush more. I knew that he could see right up my short jumper. The first thing he asked me when I turned around to face him was, "Where are your panties, Candice?"

I remember that I felt like my face was turning beet red when I pointed to my back pack. It was still lying on the garage floor, near the side door, right where I had dropped it in my rush to get up to the loft. I'm a natural blonde, and blushing when I am embarrassed is something that I have never been able to control. But I remember that I was excited too. My nipples were rock hard, and my pussy just would not stop gushing, which in turn fed on my feeling of embarrassment, because I knew that sooner or later he was going to notice the sauce rolling down the inside of my thighs.

Mr. Sanders looked at my back pack and then back down at me. He had a nasty smile on his face, but all he said was, "Why?"

I can't count the number of times since then that men have asked me that question, but that first time still stands out in my mind. I thought that my pussy was going to explode and felt like my whole body was on fire, as I explained to him that I had put them in there so that they would not get soaked when I came.

His smile had turned into a grin by then, "So let me get this straight, you walked home from school, came in here, took your panties off and put them in your backpack, and then crawled up into the loft to masturbate to George's porn mags?"

As I was listening to him, something in my eyes must have told him that he didn't quite have the whole story yet, because before I could even begin to answer he said, "No, that's not right, is it, Candice? "

The way he was looking at me there was no way that I could lie to him. I didn't even try. By the time he was through cross-examining me, I had not only admitted to him that I had actually taken my panties off at school that day, but everything else that I had been up to for the previous six months as well. I know now that he was enjoying the whole sordid little scene, but I wasn't even 13 yet, and thought that he was serious when he finally asked me just what I thought my mother was going to do to me when he told her what a little slut she had for a daughter. With summer vacation only a few weeks away I didn't even want to think about what she would do. One thing was sure, if he told her, I would be spending the entire summer grounded instead of at the pool with my friends.

By the time I was through begging him to pleeeeese not tell her, I had agreed that I at least deserved a spanking, and that I would let him give it to me. There was an element of a game to all of this, certainly on his part. At that point he could have told me to jump up and down and screech like a monkey and I would have done it. He knew that he had me, and I knew that he knew it. But there was an element of it on my side too. My pussy was gushing, he had already forced me to explain how I had cum, watching him through our kitchen window, or from our basement stairwell. So he knew that I had a crush on him, even if it was more lust than emotion. What I really wanted was for him to throw me down on the floor and fuck me, (and I think he knew that too), so I was more than willing to accept any attention he was willing to give me, even if it was a spanking. Just the anticipation of it had me gushing, and he could see that.

When I think about it now, Mr. Sanders, like most of the men I've known, always knew just how to read me. Somehow he just seemed to know that humiliating me sexually was what I had been craving. He certainly knew it before I did. Not that it would take a rocket scientist to figure it out. I mean what else could he think about a girl who was constantly masturbating in public, and running around with no panties on, gushing like crazy from the hope that she might get caught.

He pulled the stool from my stepfather's work bench out into the middle of the empty garage and then grinned down at me again, leaving it up to me to make the next move. I knew that by bending over that stool I might be acquiescing to more than just a spanking, that he might decide to do more to me than just redden my cheeks, and that thought had me so excited that I thought my legs were going to give out before I could get to that stool. As soon as I had my belly draped over the seat he ordered me to reach back and pull my jumper up over my waist. Then he told me to spread my legs, turn my toes in and hold on. I was ok up until then, but as soon as I turned my toes in, I felt my lips open and a huge glob of cum gushed out of my pussy and dripped to the floor. I was looking back through my legs and when I saw that, I knew that he had seen it too. My pussy went absolutely crazy. Every muscle in my body began to spasm as my orgasm washed through me and glob after glob of thick clear cum gushed out of my open pussy onto the floor between my feet. It seemed to go on forever. Just when I would think that it was slowing down another glob would drop to the floor and set me off again. And the whole time Mr. Sanders was standing behind me making it worse by laughing at me and telling me what a little slut I was for cumming like that in front of him. When I finally did start to calm down, he ordered me not to move, and walked out of the garage.

I don't really know how long he was gone, but it seemed like a half an hour at least to me. I knew better than to move, but the anticipation was making my pussy all twitchy, and the fear that it was getting late, and that my mom would come home and find me like that, was even worse. The longer I waited the hotter my poor pussy got until finally I couldn't stand it anymore, reached back between my legs and stroked my aching clitty to another creamy orgasm. I never heard Mr. Sanders come back in.

I had my eyes closed and three fingers buried in my pussy when I suddenly heard him say, "I told you not to move, you little slut!" That word, "slut", crashed into my brain at the exact instant that the paddle he had brought back from his house crashed into my butt. God it hurt! I barely had time to pull my hand out of my snatch and let out a pain-filled scream before the next 3 landed on me, one after the other, each one followed by a yelp from me. He was serious! I had never been spanked like that. My ass felt like it was on fire and all that heat surged straight into my pussy.

Mr. Sanders walked around in front of me, squatted down and lifted my chin with his hand. I could barely see him through my hair but I knew he could see the tears rolling down my cheeks because he brushed them, and my hair, out of the way with his other hand. He then asked me how many spanks I thought I deserved for all the slutty things I had done that day. When I told him that I didn't know, he got up, walked behind me, and let me have a couple more. Then he came around and lifted my chin again. He didn't brush my hair out of the way though, instead he informed me that from then on I was to address him only as "Sir" when we were alone. I suppose if I had been thinking at the time I would have realized right then that as far as he was concerned, there were going to be a lot more 'alone' times ahead. I was thinking, of course, but not about that. I was thinking about how sore my ass was, how hot my pussy was, how many more spanks I was going to have to endure, but mostly about trying to remember to call him "Sir", so that I wouldn't get any extra ones.