| Mature Fiction posted March 13, 2016 |
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Short Story
A Serpent Watching-Part Two
by michaelcahill
The author has placed a warning on this post for violence.
The author has placed a warning on this post for language.
The author has placed a warning on this post for sexual content.
Previously, we met Darby Henry, the night watchman at Briarwood School for the Blind. The school is for fifteen to eighteen year olds, all blind, and Darby enjoys peeping through windows watching the gals shower among other activites as part of his job duties. We met Headmistress Hannah Emmerick, a stern, old-school woman and spinster, who was none to happy about the school recently becomming co-ed. We rejoin the story, now, as we consider the thoughts of Hanna Emmerick, at work in her study:
The study of Headmistress Hannah Emmerick:
I can smell the foul stink of sin in the air. It is thicker than the fog enshrouding the forest these protecting walls keep from invading our oasis. It reeks of unspeakable lust and hedonism. These boys, these boys with one thing on their minds: what’s under those skirts. They don’t care about the wondrous education they can receive here … the privilege of tutelage only the upper crust receives. They think only of the crust forming on their soiled undergarments.
To see Headmistress Hannah Emmerick at her desk gave one the chills. Movement seldom occurred without a specific purpose. She would grab a pen, dip it in the inkwell, and write. She wouldn’t brush the strand of hair from her eyes, or mind the fly at the top of the page. The hair didn’t bother her enough for the effort, the fly would move on of its own accord. The itch between her legs could be endured, and she wouldn’t be suffered the indignity, not even alone in the privacy of her study, at least not during office hours.
Visitors were met with a coppery scent awash with lilac. Underneath wafted a familiar if somewhat foul scent that had her study dubbed the “outhouse”, behind her back and far out of earshot, of course. The tools of discipline stood vigil nearby, stained in blood and crusted at their handles. The blood looked fresh, while the crust looked to be accumulated over the years. The threat they posed proved a handy deterrent to getting caught at anything requiring their attention. The fresh look of the blood had no story among the student body to accompany it. The flaky crusted handles remained a mystery, but speculation never came to a good conclusion. Insertion came up often, but the indecency of the thought found the idea as quickly dismissed. And not a story existed among the student body to lend veracity to such a claim.
Night watchman, Darby Henry knocks politely on the door. To Headmistress Hannah, it is a brutish and crude pounding where a light tap would suffice. She shifts her knees to a locked position, and calls him in.
“Enter, Mr. Henry. The door is unlatched.”
“Thank you kindly, Ma’am. A lovely morning it is.”
“Indeed. I trust the evening to be free of incident. No report, no incident, yes?”
“Yes, ma’am. The wee ones all quiet as lambs, tucked away in dreamland. Weary from their studies no doubt.” Darby lets loose his most charming Irish come hither grin.
Darby smiles as Hannah blushes imperceptibly as her knees part a paper’s width. She responds sternly, “I’m pleased all seems well so far. We must be diligent, Mr. Henry. Sin is in the air. It is as a shroud covering all propriety and sense. We must keep the light constantly shinning beneath it.”
Darby does his best to hide a look of bewilderment as he contemplates the meaning of her remark. “Yes, ma’am. There’s no doubt there is something under the shrouds of great interest. I’m sure the boys have considered such at great length.”
Darby begins to swell as he sees Hannah tighten her hips no doubt cursing the moistness welling up inside her loins. Sin knows no boundaries. He rolls his tongue through his mouth slowly as she lightly moistens her lips. The thought of Hannah seeing his impending condition causes him to rise from his chair. She's wearing her spectacles on, and Darby can't wait for her to see his erect penis straining at the fabric of his trousers proudly pointing to her--beckoning her closer.
He watches her reach in her desk drawer pulling out an envelope. He hears her vagina make noise like a wash cloth being rung out and he imagines she hears it too. He can smell her scent overpowering the lilac she had carefully sprayed before his entry.
Darby has a decided wet spot beginning to show on his brown trousers as the thought of the wet nectar between her legs overcomes the smirk on his face and replaces it with an open mouthed gape.
Hannah leans forward with purpose now within inches of his throbbing wet member. If she sticks out her tongue, he thinks, she can taste the juices wetting his trousers. Darby inches forward involuntarily, willing her mouth to take his throbbing cock in her mouth, and relieve him of its contents. He knows she has to want it. He imagines it cascading into her mouth.
Hannah hands him the envelope. “Thank you, Mr. Henry. Keep up the good work. We’ll stay on top of this together and things will remain on an even keel, I’m sure of it.”
Darby takes the check. “Your kind and generous, ma’am. I’m behind you one hundred percent. It’s God ferring people like ourselves who will win the day. Good day to you now.”
With that, Darby exits the room on his way to the girl’s dormitory. He hopes he’ll find a scene suitable to relieve his current condition.
Hannah sits there motionless and eyes the whip with the crusty handle. The embroidered sign over the fireplace reads: Sin shall be punished, thus forgiven and remembered no more. She grabs the handle and draws the shades.
~~~~~~~~~~
The Men's Dormatory:
Lloyd Langerhorne speaks softly, but with clear excitement. “I have to have her, Jonesy. She’s perfection. Her breasts stand at attention like two torpedoes ready to fire on a submarine. She let me feel them. How I would love to soak them in my cum. Oh, the thought of it. She let me finger her pussy, and she loved it. I’ve yet to wash my hands. But she refused to blow me.”
“Refused you say. That doesn’t sound sporting what with your fingers in her honey pot and all. You’d think she would at least ….”
“No, it wasn’t she didn’t want to. She told me she’s been dreaming of it. She fears Darby might be watching. She feared being reported by that old wretch.”
“Darby? That old perve? Let him watch. He’d probably shoot his load in the duck pond and quack for joy. I wouldn’t worry about him from what I’ve heard. He’s a major perve.”
Previously, we met Darby Henry, the night watchman at Briarwood School for the Blind. The school is for fifteen to eighteen year olds, all blind, and Darby enjoys peeping through windows watching the gals shower among other activites as part of his job duties. We met Headmistress Hannah Emmerick, a stern, old-school woman and spinster, who was none to happy about the school recently becomming co-ed. We rejoin the story, now, as we consider the thoughts of Hanna Emmerick, at work in her study:
The study of Headmistress Hannah Emmerick:
I can smell the foul stink of sin in the air. It is thicker than the fog enshrouding the forest these protecting walls keep from invading our oasis. It reeks of unspeakable lust and hedonism. These boys, these boys with one thing on their minds: what’s under those skirts. They don’t care about the wondrous education they can receive here … the privilege of tutelage only the upper crust receives. They think only of the crust forming on their soiled undergarments.
To see Headmistress Hannah Emmerick at her desk gave one the chills. Movement seldom occurred without a specific purpose. She would grab a pen, dip it in the inkwell, and write. She wouldn’t brush the strand of hair from her eyes, or mind the fly at the top of the page. The hair didn’t bother her enough for the effort, the fly would move on of its own accord. The itch between her legs could be endured, and she wouldn’t be suffered the indignity, not even alone in the privacy of her study, at least not during office hours.
Visitors were met with a coppery scent awash with lilac. Underneath wafted a familiar if somewhat foul scent that had her study dubbed the “outhouse”, behind her back and far out of earshot, of course. The tools of discipline stood vigil nearby, stained in blood and crusted at their handles. The blood looked fresh, while the crust looked to be accumulated over the years. The threat they posed proved a handy deterrent to getting caught at anything requiring their attention. The fresh look of the blood had no story among the student body to accompany it. The flaky crusted handles remained a mystery, but speculation never came to a good conclusion. Insertion came up often, but the indecency of the thought found the idea as quickly dismissed. And not a story existed among the student body to lend veracity to such a claim.
Night watchman, Darby Henry knocks politely on the door. To Headmistress Hannah, it is a brutish and crude pounding where a light tap would suffice. She shifts her knees to a locked position, and calls him in.
“Enter, Mr. Henry. The door is unlatched.”
“Thank you kindly, Ma’am. A lovely morning it is.”
“Indeed. I trust the evening to be free of incident. No report, no incident, yes?”
“Yes, ma’am. The wee ones all quiet as lambs, tucked away in dreamland. Weary from their studies no doubt.” Darby lets loose his most charming Irish come hither grin.
Darby smiles as Hannah blushes imperceptibly as her knees part a paper’s width. She responds sternly, “I’m pleased all seems well so far. We must be diligent, Mr. Henry. Sin is in the air. It is as a shroud covering all propriety and sense. We must keep the light constantly shinning beneath it.”
Darby does his best to hide a look of bewilderment as he contemplates the meaning of her remark. “Yes, ma’am. There’s no doubt there is something under the shrouds of great interest. I’m sure the boys have considered such at great length.”
Darby begins to swell as he sees Hannah tighten her hips no doubt cursing the moistness welling up inside her loins. Sin knows no boundaries. He rolls his tongue through his mouth slowly as she lightly moistens her lips. The thought of Hannah seeing his impending condition causes him to rise from his chair. She's wearing her spectacles on, and Darby can't wait for her to see his erect penis straining at the fabric of his trousers proudly pointing to her--beckoning her closer.
He watches her reach in her desk drawer pulling out an envelope. He hears her vagina make noise like a wash cloth being rung out and he imagines she hears it too. He can smell her scent overpowering the lilac she had carefully sprayed before his entry.
Darby has a decided wet spot beginning to show on his brown trousers as the thought of the wet nectar between her legs overcomes the smirk on his face and replaces it with an open mouthed gape.
Hannah leans forward with purpose now within inches of his throbbing wet member. If she sticks out her tongue, he thinks, she can taste the juices wetting his trousers. Darby inches forward involuntarily, willing her mouth to take his throbbing cock in her mouth, and relieve him of its contents. He knows she has to want it. He imagines it cascading into her mouth.
Hannah hands him the envelope. “Thank you, Mr. Henry. Keep up the good work. We’ll stay on top of this together and things will remain on an even keel, I’m sure of it.”
Darby takes the check. “Your kind and generous, ma’am. I’m behind you one hundred percent. It’s God ferring people like ourselves who will win the day. Good day to you now.”
With that, Darby exits the room on his way to the girl’s dormitory. He hopes he’ll find a scene suitable to relieve his current condition.
Hannah sits there motionless and eyes the whip with the crusty handle. The embroidered sign over the fireplace reads: Sin shall be punished, thus forgiven and remembered no more. She grabs the handle and draws the shades.
~~~~~~~~~~
The Men's Dormatory:
Lloyd Langerhorne speaks softly, but with clear excitement. “I have to have her, Jonesy. She’s perfection. Her breasts stand at attention like two torpedoes ready to fire on a submarine. She let me feel them. How I would love to soak them in my cum. Oh, the thought of it. She let me finger her pussy, and she loved it. I’ve yet to wash my hands. But she refused to blow me.”
“Refused you say. That doesn’t sound sporting what with your fingers in her honey pot and all. You’d think she would at least ….”
“No, it wasn’t she didn’t want to. She told me she’s been dreaming of it. She fears Darby might be watching. She feared being reported by that old wretch.”
“Darby? That old perve? Let him watch. He’d probably shoot his load in the duck pond and quack for joy. I wouldn’t worry about him from what I’ve heard. He’s a major perve.”
 Recognized |
Characters:
Headmistress Hannah Emmerick: Sighted, runs Briarwood with an iron fist as it were. She has been there since she was a student herself.
Darby Henry: Night watchman also sighted, enjoys peeking through windows at blind female students showering and masturbating. Also patrols the grounds hoping to find students engaged in sexual activity for his viewing pleasure. Has discovered Hannahâ??s unusual methods of pain/pleasure recently.
Lloyd Langerhorne: Known as Void Lloyd, roommate of Jonesy and recipient of his castoffs. Believes he is Adrianaâ??s boyfriend though she is using him to get to Jonesy.
Liston Edward Jones: Known to all as Jonesy. The male stud on campus. All the women want him and he is glad to accommodate. Lloydâ??s roommate and friend.
Jane Cummings: Adrianaâ??s roommate and good friend. She has hooked up with Jonesy on several occasions.
Sheriff Samuels: Lead investigator charged with discovering who has committed murder on the campus.
Tony Tucker: A reporter for a local newspaper with information that shines a poor light on Hannah.
I put this "under the veil" as suggested though I don't find this erotic. I'd rather by overly cautious I suppose. I consider this story a murder mystery. Yes, a couple of the characters are a bit strange and naturally a crowd of teenagers have sex on their minds, but that's not what the story is about really.
I'm interested in any help or suggestions you might offer. I am especially concerned about POV which, as you can see, is changing from scene to scene. I'm also taking my time introducing the characters and have yet to introduce the crime. This is all intentional and I'm sure not conventional. Am I way off the deep end? It is what I think will work, but I could be wrong. HA! Feel free to offer your opinion, along with six stars of course! ))
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