Chapter 6

Ilsa was tired today, but as she opened the door to Mrs. Crow's cottage, she knew she had to do an acceptable job, or there would be, literally, hell to pay.

After getting the cleaning materials, she headed directly for the bathroom, figuring she would get that out of the way. She took a small towel from the rack, folded it, and then knelt on it next to the tub. It didn't look too bad. She noticed, absently, that there was a nice breeze coming from somewhere, and was grateful for it. It didn't seem as stuffy as the last time she had been in here, and she leaned over, her waist resting on the tub's edge, and started scrubbing. At one point, to get to the far corner, where there was some old soap residue, she had to half climb up onto the edge of the tub, with one knee on it, and one still on the floor. Not exactly ladylike, she mused to herself as she felt that nice breeze go up her legs and under her short uniform skirt, but it got the job done.

She managed to get the tub done in about five minutes, and then turned to her left to start on the toilet. With her brush, she got behind the toilet and scrubbed around the wall fixtures and the seal on the floor. With a softer sponge, she washed the sides and bottom of the bowl, having to be on her hands and knees the whole time. Her behind must have been facing the vent, or whatever was causing that breeze, because it felt good, swirling up her skirt again, and keeping her from getting so sweaty like last time.

She was surprised to hear the front door open, and hear Ms. Crow call out, "Ilsa? Where are you?"

"In here, Ma'am," she called, deciding she would stay on her hands and knees, keeping busy, when the woman came in.

Marsha Crow appeared out of the corner of her eye, and Ilsa just kept right on working as the woman came into the bathroom and stood behind her. She could tell the woman was inspecting the tub.

"Ilsa, I'm afraid you've missed a spot. Some soap residue just below the faucet. I'm surprised you didn't see it."

Damn, the girl thought. "Oh, I'm sorry Ma'am, I'll get it." She started to rise and froze when she felt Ms. Crow's shoe on her back.

"Stay there."

Ilsa resumed her position on her hands and knees. "My dear Miss Peterson, I thought you had learned, from missing the spot out in the living room, how important it is to be thorough."

Ilsa closed her eyes. My god, this woman is a tyrant, she thought. She sighed, realizing she had little recourse but to accept this attitude from her, but what came next stunned her. The wavy-haired blonde teacher lifted Ilsa's skirt and pulled it up onto her back, exposing her. Ilsa inhaled sharply, her lower body now covered only by her small pink cotton panties.

"I suppose you might be one of those girls who only responds to punishment."

She wanted to reply, to protest, but she bit her lip.

"Hmm. Nothing to say. Just as well. Let this help correct your sloppy behavior, then."

Ilsa stiffened as her new teacher took the waistband of her panties in her fingers, and slowly tugged them down over her upraised behind. It seemed like an eternity to her, but was probably only a few seconds that it took for the woman to work the tiny undergarment down the girl's smooth, porcelain-like legs to her knees. The breeze she had felt earlier now eased through her most private areas, secrets she had only given to Melanie. She felt extremely vulnerable, like she had on the nurse's table, though not quite as turned on this time. Her exhibitionist tendencies, she had long since realized, had gotten her and Mel in this mess with Ms. Crow, and the excitement of revealing herself was no longer there.

Ms. Crow hit her.

The pain of the slap on her buttock made her flinch, and she suppressed a yelp. Five, six more smacks came then, rapid fire, jiggling and stinging her smooth, round bottom vigorously. She let out a humiliated whimper. Ms. Crow's hand had speed and certainty as it delivered the punishment.

Marsha Crow's eyes danced with excitement as she watched the pretty girl's perfect ass shudder and clench with each strike. She couldn't help but enjoy the fact that Ilsa's pussy peeked out from between those cheeks. She could even see, on a couple of connections, the puckered brown anus of the girl pulse and wink as she reacted to the blows. What a delight it was, to punish this sinful, wicked girl this way. To have teased her so purposely that day at the park, and to have behaved with such open, animal lust with the other girl in broad daylight... the little tramp deserved it all.

She looked down at her ward and took a mental snapshot, and smiled.

The man could not believe his luck.

He adjusted the binoculars and found the focus to be just perfect now. Damn that window! He thought.

He had prowled on his forty-five minute lunch break for nearly two weeks before finding the hole in the fence, and ultimately, the girls' school. What a gold mine! He licked his lips, and watched the scene unfold, trying to figure out who was who still, and what exactly was going on. His hard cock strained against his pants, and, as he always did, he unzipped quickly, letting it spring out, so he could stroke himself while he watched.

For three days he had just watched the schoolgirls from a distance as crouched in the woods in his previous spot. They talked, drank sodas, walked from class to class, but not much else. Still, it provided better sights than he had had in a while.

Then, that young beauty with the dog-oh my, what a treasure! He had moved from his old spot then, to get a better look at her, and that's when she saw him. At least, he thought she saw him. He got out of there, but watched from another spot, long enough to see her go to that little bungalow. What, these kids got to keep pets in their dorms??

And then, he started watching the bungalow, and -bingo--his shovel had hit yet another treasure chest. A bathroom window. Finally, with the weather getting cooler, someone had started propping the window open. He had seen the older woman pee a few times, and then once seen another girl, a real honey, sit on that toilet too. The problem was, the window, being frosted, blocked the middle. When someone sat on the toilet, he saw a head, and, below the window, the feet. He got a kick out of seeing that young babe sitting there, because he could see her panties down around her little black shoes. Wild! He hadn't quite figured out who lived there, and who didn't, but it sure seemed like the older lady, probably a teacher ran the joint. He had given them names: Teacher, Doggie-girl, and Honey (to match the girl's hair).

And now, today, shit he had knocked one out of the park with his timing. The girl who had walked the dog came in, and it looked like she was cleaning. What a view he got when she climbed up on that tub. Those sweet panties, in perfect focus in his viewfinder-yesss!

Now, Teacher came in, and Doggie-girl was in doggie position by the toilet. All he could see for a few moments was the woman's head and shoulders, in a gray business suit, then gray window pane, then under that, divided by the prop stick holding the window out, the bottom of her gray suit, the woman's lower legs and shoes. In between those, though, were the Doggie-girl's shoes and bare knees, and now, a pair of panties! What on earth was going on in there? Whatever it was, he couldn't take it any longer, and he stroked himself harder, the scene jiggling as he tried to keep it in view with one hand on the field glasses. The girl was pulling up her panties, the woman was saying something and leaving... goddamm... goddamn!!

The tiny opening at the head of his penis split wide open and streams of thick silvery goo came pulsing out, landing on the bushes in front of him and dripping down the leaves. He groaned softly as he milked his member, sweat breaking out on his brow as he watched the girl resume whatever it was she had been doing before Teacher came in.

He lowered the binocs, looked around, and then shook the remaining cum from his satisfied-at least for now-cock. Then he zipped up. There was a restlessness in him though. He wanted Doggie-girl. He wanted her bad. And he was going to have her. Maybe he would get lucky, and get her and Teacher together. He would teach both of those bitches a lesson about teasing a man like this.

Ilsa was done with her classes from the day, a bit morose from the embarassing and demeaning spanking she had endured at the hands of Marsha Crow. She walked away from the main building and took her usual shortcut, behind the portables, leading to her dorm house. Suddenly a girl emerged from behind one of the portables, and stood in her way. It was Desiree Mills, one of the girls from the soccer team. She was an athletic girl, and her wavy, jet black hair was impressive as it flowed over her well-endowed chest. Her uniform looked small on her thoroughbred frame.