Chapter 1: Introduction

The predatory schoolteachers, Jack Allen and Bob Best, had resolved to mend their ways. Their resolutions were more the result of fear of being found out than from an improvement in morality. The Principal of the Grade School where they'd formerly taught had offered them the opportunity to get away from the temptation of the nubile girls in that school and at the same time to do some service for society. More importantly, for her, this would also get them away from her school. They had met her in her office one day last May.

"I'm sure you both know that the two of you have made my job more difficult than it should be and I'd be happy if you chose other schools for next year. That is, if you plan to keep on teaching?

Bob and Jack looked at each other, then at Mrs. Wilson, the Principal. She'd asked them to her office and they wondered why. They were still wondering.

"I'm sorry Mrs. Wilson. But... I'm turning over a new leaf," Bob said. "And I haven't decided yet about next year."

"I'm like Bob. I'm going to tread the straight and narrow from now on. If I come back, I won't cause you any problems." Jack didn't really believe he'd caused her any problems anyway. Unlike Bob and his brief upset abut Ilse; none of the girls had said anything about him.

"I have about as much confidence in your promises as I have in a politician's promise. But I do have something that might get one of you out of my hair."

"What is that, Mrs. Wilson?" Bob looked up, interested.

"It may not appeal to you, Mr. Best... or to you, Mr. Allen. It's a way to give something back to your country, though. I've been asked to recruit a good teacher for an out of the way location. You don't have to know where... not yet. But it's within the boundaries of the forty-eight states, not Hawaii or Alaska. It's more or less a rural area. Should I continue?"

"I'm interested," Jack said, looking up for the first time.

"I am, too. What's it about?" Bob sat forward in his chair.

"Well, you both meet the requirements. You're big and you're good teachers... it's the non-curriculum teaching that's a problem with you two. Anyway, in a way it's like a trip back in time. This place has just a two-room school for all grades. They need someone to teach Grade seven and up... I think the highest grade is eleven, but I'm not sure. Some of the students can be unruly... they were specific about wanting a man, a big man. They went through three women teachers this year. The pay isn't great but you can get cheap room and board next door to the school."

"But you said it's a two-room school?" Bob looked over at Jack, trying to gauge his interest.

"They've already hired a teacher for the Primary grades. So, is either one of you interested?"

"What if we're both interested?" It sounded different and Jack liked the idea of a rural area.

"If you're both interested I'll send both CV's to them and they can decide. I'll say you're both good teachers although I really shouldn't." The woman smiled meaningfully at both of them and closed the folder on her desk, signaling that their meeting was over.

Middleville, known usually just as Middle, was a sprawling farming community that was all that Mrs. Wilson had suggested. It was a ten-hour drive from the nearest airport and the road to get there was narrow and winding. The inhabitants of Middleville and the neighboring community, High Dorset which was usually just called Dorset, all three hundred of them, were descended from British, Scandinavian and French-Canadian settlers who had arrived in the late nineteenth century. The out of the way location had combined with generations of inbreeding to produce a quaint, close-knit if somewhat backward society.

Reverend Joshua Scroggins, the Chairman of the Board of Trustees came to the city to interview Jack and Bill for the teaching job. This was done for economic reasons since it was cheaper for him to travel there than for the two of them to go to Middleville but there was an added reason. It gave the good Reverend an opportunity to get away from the small community fish bowl and enjoy the freedom of anonymity a city provided him.

"Well gentlemen, things have changed somewhat since we first began looking for another teacher."

Joshua felt warm and comfortable in the dimly lit restaurant where he was meeting the two candidates. The warmth was mostly internal and the result of several shots of Jack Daniels' famed potion and he was anxious to get the business over with so he could become better acquainted with the young lady he'd met in the bar at his hotel.

"Middleville and Dorset are getting bigger. A Japanese company and a German one have just built large pig farms and they've brought in quite a few people to run it. The Middleville School can't handle all the kids now. We're building a big, new school and we have to reopen the Dorset school until the new school is ready next year so we need several teachers. Are both of you still interested?" Reverend Scroggins settled back and sipped his bourbon while he waited for an answer.

"Sure, Reverend," the two men answered together. "How big is the Dorset school going to be?" Bob asked the question since he suspected that he was the likely candidate for the new position there."

For the next hour, while they dined and drank, Josh described the situation. Dorset school would have about twenty students with the oldest possibly in grade eleven. The Middleville School was considerably larger with seventy or eighty in the five or six classrooms that had been completed. Next year when everything was ready they would again bus students from High Dorset to Middleville. Some of the students were what Reverend Scroggins called 'high-spirited' but they were all from good Christian families and he and the other parents didn't cotton to the new-fangled permissiveness of modern schools. They expected the teachers to apply corporal punishment when needed. Last year's teachers had mollycoddled the students and that's why, in his opinion, the women had not been able to control them. Of course the new students might be different but the School Board had no intention of changing their practices.

Handshakes sealed the deals. Jack would go to the Middleville School and Bob would have the Dorset school, which was about six miles away. Another teacher, Beth Safic had already been hired, probably for the primary grades at Middle.

Bob was the first to arrive at his new assignment. His nieces, Irene and Lucy, were living now with their parents. Lucy was with her father and Irene plus baby were with her mother. Bob felt a mix of guilt and disappointment that he couldn't acknowledge that he was the father of Irene's child but it was definitely best this way.

He had phoned ahead and Reverend Scroggins met him at the dusty crossroads to give him directions to Dorset. It was evening by the time Bob arrived at the big, rambling farmhouse that was to be his home during the coming school year.

The Reverend Ebenezer Wilson, his landlord, met Bob at the door. Reverend Wilson was the Pastor of the Living Light Church, one of the local fundamentalist churches much like the one that Reverend Scroggins ministered to. He was in his mid-forties and had become a widower some five years ago, left with two daughters, seven and eleven years old. The eleven-year-old girl, Priscilla, had gone to live with her maternal grandparents but the younger girl; Leena had remained with her father.

After a year of mourning, as was appropriate, he had married again. His new bride, Lucinda, had been an innocent and submissive virgin of eighteen and she had taken on her new responsibilities as stepmother to the eight-year-old girl with no reservations. Then, several months ago, the older daughter had returned and this had gone well also.

The new teacher was fed a substantial supper as he made the acquaintance of the family. Reverend Wilson was tall and powerful looking and his ego was gargantuan. He was quietly domineering and there was no doubt that he ruled the household with an iron hand. His libido was as large as his ego and, although of course Bob did not yet know this, he regularly gave religious instruction of a very unchaste nature to several of his parishioners.

Mrs. Wilson, Lucinda, was a dark, ripe-bodied but meek and submissive woman who, despite her determination to be a good mother to the girls, was perhaps too near their own ages to be completely effective. She'd been a virgin when Reverend Wilson married her and she still had thrilling memories of her introduction to sex but after less than a month he seemed to lose interest in her. In the five years since then, the marriage bed had been, at best, boring and despite the occasional stirring of her libido when she submitted to the weekly ritual coupling, she had not experienced an orgasm since the second week of her marriage. Nor did she consciously yearn for one.

Twelve-year-old Leena was short and baby-fat plump with high, hard breasts and buttocks round as honeydew melons. Leena was a confused and disturbed young girl who was very angry with her father. Her confusion and her anger had the same origin and both began eight months ago.

Leena's sixteen-year-old cousin, Elvin, had found the girl alone in the church basement. She had been playing in the snow and had gone into the church to get warm and dry her clothes, which were soaking wet from the wet, sloppy snow. When Elvin came upon her she had taken off her coat and sweater and her snow pants and wore only a light blouse and panties.

The sight of the cute youngster with her precociously developed breasts pushing out the blouse in two delightful hillocks while the slit below her fat mons was outlined enticingly by her too-tight panties was too much for the undisciplined teen.

Little Leena fought her much bigger cousin but to no avail. Less than five minutes after he grabbed her she was lying, legs widespread with a red-stained trickle of gism running down her ravished cunt slit and puddling on the wooden floor. In that brief time Elvin had ripped off her panties, forced her to the floor and unceremoniously popped her cherry. The quick-triggered youth had lasted only a dozen or so strokes before he pumped his semen into the little girl's tight receptacle.

The eleven-year-old girl lay there after her assailant dismounted. She was angry. Furious. And not just at her cousin. She knew her father was in his office right next to where she'd been raped and she was sure he must have heard her call for help but he hadn't come to her rescue. The loss of her virginity didn't bother her particularly. She knew that it was bound to happen soon anyway. In Dorset when tits appeared, hymens disappeared.