pushing them deeply into me as she said, “Emily, we'll give you so much relief, you'll probably pass out.”
At which, Miss Hellview added, “But only if you really want us to, my dear.”
I gave them one more helpless little shrug.
“Well…I guess that'd be okay.”
CHAPTER 13
Miss Hellview's private quarters were surprisingly plush, considering the starkness of her office.
A solid maple door at the back of her office led to a suite of beautifully appointed rooms where she lived, her large bedroom the focal point. A huge four-poster canopied bed occupied the far wall, matching dark cherry nightstands, a chest of drawers, an 8-foot armoire and a dressing table filling in the set.
It was all lushly carpeted in a deep burgundy weave.
“Bring your shorts and panties, dear,” Ms. Dykstra, my new best friend, had asked me. “And, by the way, I'll make certain you get a new school uniform as soon as we're done here.”
“Yes, ma'am. Thanks.”
It was still only late morning, just before noon, but as I picked up my things, Miss Hellview phoned down to excuse me from my next classes. Then, with me still wearing only my tee-shirt from gym class and my tennis shoes, she led Ms. Dykstra and I into her bedroom.
“Let's use the settee,” she suggested.
And pointed to a sort of brown leather-upholstered chaise lounge. I'd never heard of a settee, but it was a narrow antique-looking couch with only one gently curved plush arm at the far end and no back. It was more like something you'd lie propped-up on to watch TV instead of sitting up straight.
“Just throw your gym shorts and panties on the bed.”
“Okay.”
Then she turned on two small lamps and had Ms. Dykstra pull closed the heavy drapes, putting the room into near darkness.
“Let's get that mango lotion off of your perfect little bottom,” she suggested, and used a fluffy white face towel to wipe it mostly off my bare butt. “No sense getting it on the furniture.”
And then she brought out two battery-operated massagers, each one chrome and serious-looking, the professional kind that was held on the back of your hand with a little leather strap. This was so that your hand itself, and all your fingers, vibrated.
“Are you both going to give me a massage?” I asked, pure innocence in my voice and wide blue eyes, but dirty certainty and a quick stab of keen anticipation between my legs.
“A special massage,” she told me. “Just stretch out flat, on your front. Now, don't be modest. We're all just girls here.”
And she and Ms. Dykstra helped me out of my gym tee-shirt and took off my tennis shoes so I was entirely naked. Then they made me lie face down on the brown leather chaise, the thing long enough to easily handle my little 4'8” frame, with plenty of room still for my bare feet near the bottom.
“You have such beautiful skin,” Miss Hellview commented.
While they'd undressed me, I was fully aware of the way their appreciative eyes took in my skinny nakedness-their covert glances at my newly formed breasts and darkly pink nipples, and especially at the fine wisps of pubic hair on my sweet little 11-year-old cunt.
“I see you're developing very nicely from a mere girl into a very sexy young woman,” Miss Hellview observed. “In a very short time, your burgeoning young breasts are going to be fabulous.”
I didn't know what 'burgeoning' meant, but it sounded like a good thing. Also, we hadn't even started and they were both already breathing somewhat erratically. Of course, so was I.
The lewd anticipation of their hands eventually vibrating on my pussy, of their nimble fingers finding and enclosing my sure-to-be tingling clit until I had an orgasm (or ten!), sent a shock wave of pure electricity straight to my always-alert-for-fun crotch!
Still dressed, they each knelt on the carpet, one on each side of me as I reclined on the settee, face down, and Miss Hellview said, “Emily, this is just to get you completely relaxed, so do exactly that: relax.”
And she turned on her massager, the sound followed a quick moment later by the second one, on Ms. Dykstra's hand. The matching hummmmm's they made sent another little shiver of excitement through me- excitement that increased tremendously when they both pressed their vibrating hands to my young flesh and gently but firmly started massaging my bare lower back.
“Oh, God…” I murmured, my eyes half-closing. “That's amazing!”
“It'll get better,” Ms. Dykstra promised. “We just want you lie there and enjoy every bit of it…”
I sort of nodded agreement, my back and more than one highly sensitive part of my front alive with the vibrating sensation. God, my already excited nipples had hardened even more at their first touch with the massagers, puckering into sweet high-sensitivity mode, and now my pussy was so filled with slick wetness I was suddenly afraid of making a big wet spot on the couch.
“Miss Hellview, I don't want to get your, uh, settee wet-”
“It's leather, dear,” she crooned. “Don't give it a thought.”
Of course, I realized then, many other young students had certainly spent time on this leather couch-like piece of furniture, face down or face up. So leaving a big wet spot on it was expected.
“Okay.”
By then, their warm vibrating 'magic hands' were moving up and down my narrow bare back, and as their fingers pressed into me, I could feel my breathing becoming gradually more ragged. And, of course, my young breasts had firmed up even more, noticeably so.
“Ohhh, I really like it!” I said, and sort of jerked, with a little moan and an involuntary shudder thrown in, like, “Uhhhh!”
I had my face to the side, pressed into the soft brown leather toward my gym teacher, and I could tell she'd taken her whistle and her bra off at some point. Like I'd said, she was tall and rangy, but she had nice-sized breasts, from what I could tell, under her white tee-shirt. And her nipples were so dark and large (and stiff with excitement!) they were just about poking through the lightweight fabric.
When I moved my eyes up slightly, I realized she was looking at my face and could tell I'd been studying her boobs. I gave her an awkward little smile, and she actually smiled back, surprising me.
I'd had the impression no one in the entire school had ever seen her really smile.
“This feels so unbelievable,” I murmured. “You're both being so sweet to me…”
She smiled at me again, her gray eyes brighter and her face far prettier than I'd seen it so far.
“Emily, have you ever been with a boy?” she wanted to know. “Or are you still too young?”
This was going to be tricky, I could tell.
Her vibrating hand had made its way back down my slender lower back and was now massaging the spot right where the bare crack of my butt started. She stayed there, her fingers just touching at the beginning of that fleshly little cleft, all the while Miss Hellview's vibrating fingers starting to gently knead the backs of my slender bare thighs.
It was a good combination, I had to admit.
“Just one boy,” I finally answered hesitantly, with a little shrug. That shrug thing was becoming my noncommittal answer to questions I didn't want to expand upon. “He was older than me.”
I'll say.
“Really?” Miss Hellview said. “How much older?”
I shrugged again, as if the age-difference was minimal.
“He was a few grades older,” I admitted. “He was old enough to drive, so we'd make out every chance we could, in the back seat.”
By then, one of Ms. Dykstra's vibrating fingers repeatedly ventured into my crack, sliding into it and caressing the entire smooth cleft that led down between the rubbery cheeks of my butt. The sensation verged on the semi- delicious as her fingertip, each time, almost but not quite touched at my sensitive little asshole.
