The Chelsea Hills Academy

[Jo]

Chelsea Hills Academy – Chapter 1 – The Academy

Hi. I’m Jo, a tall female of legal age, but enough me. I am one of 19, soon to be 20 kids enrolled in Chelsea Hills Academy. It’s one of those institutions where affluent families send their post-teen children, freeing them up so that they can get away and travel the world...again.

But THIS academy is unlike any other you’ve ever heard about. It is hidden from civilization, nestled in the rolling hills of the country side. The one miracle is that it now has electricity thanks to a generous patron, the parent of the “god-child”.

The purpose of the Academy is to shock us into the real world by educating us in some of the “lesser” professions, hoping we will wake up and decide to take formal education seriously as well as teach us some humility.

Yeah, right. Most of us will become benefactors of trusts set up to matriculate when we are 21 or 25…pity those who must wait till 30. .. All of us are the spoiled offspring of the well-to-do. Well most all of us. There are 2 girls and one guy who are simply here because their parents work here and it was the only way to get their parents to make the sacrifice of working so far from the mainstream of civilization.

The students here take this institution as a joke…a place to bide their time till that big payday arrives. The headmaster and headmistress are little more than well-paid babysitters, watchdogs, hall-monitors for the nearly-adult.

So the classes here consist of: culinary arts (cooking for the common man); vehicle-restitution (auto-repair); animal husbandry (farming); agriculture (mainly soil-cultivation); theater arts; (mostly slapstick comedies and stand-up comedy); art of make-up (special/comical or clown - make-up techniques) art sculpture (mostly working with muddy clays and paints); sanitation engineering (janitorial duties and garbage collecting); household maintenance(maid duties), and what they call 'earth sports' (mainly mush-wrestling, strip-dodge-ball, and academy originals like dive-ball, tug-o-war, and ‘swinger’.

All of the food is prepared by the students. If we don’t cook, no one eats. We also have to clean up after everyone including, laundry, washing dishes, making beds, cleaning out animals stalls, cleaning toilets, taking out the garbage, and mopping up spilled grease. Everybody has to attend all classes….supposedly.

There is a boy’s dorm and a girl’s dorm and they each sleep two to-a-room. My roommates name is Jenny. She arrived mid-term after the cliques had already well-formed. She is mentally slow, probably the slowest in the school, naïve as hell, shy, meek, and showing signs of late puberty with regards to skincare.

Her parents used imported hired help do everything for her while growing up so she is now clueless as to some of the most basic tasks and chores…things we take for granted.

I read in her diary that her help not only cooked all her meals and washed all her clothes but also brushed her teeth, gave her bathes, picked her clothes, and one time when she had banged her arm, the even wiped her ass. It was the son of the help that ended up getting Jenny pregnant which was the main reason for her being sent here after her parents resolved the problem out of country. She still has visible scars. She doesn’t understand what happened. Naïve to the hilt. She was sent here more out of shame and wanting get rid of a family pox than it was to help her mature which I gathered from what she wrote in her diary about what she overheard her parents unwittingly discussing.

Looking at her, the most noticeable feature besides her funny horn-rimmed glasses are and large breasts are that she has these poppable zits all over her face and especially numerous around her mouth. She is a dirty blonde with blue eyes about 5’7”. She doesn't act like she is aware of her potential for looking good. Well endowed upstairs with a matching bubble-butt to help maintain her balance, she walks sloth-footed and goofy. She has large deformed lips from a botched attempt at lip implants forced upon her by her mother who was hoping for a career in modeling. But Jenny doesn't have the confidence or grace needed to match her potential presence.

She arrived with two undersized yellow sundresses that badly needed cleaning. They are both a few sizes too short, barely covering her privates, and one had a hole in its side showing her underwear of lack thereof. Speaking of underwear, they were holey and well-worn, with the elastic having given way a long time ago. They didn’t always stay up. Her underwear was so smelly that we ok, me; I tossed them out in the garbage where they belonged and played dumb when she asked me if I’d seen them.

She has one bra but never wears it because she has long outgrown it so her boobs usually peek out the top of her dresses showing a lot of cleavage and on occasion one will slip out altogether and she often has to be made aware of that fact.

Her parents were under the impression that the school would provide her with new clothe. WRONG!

She has one pair of black flat shoes that has holes in the soles and a pair of much-worn sneakers with holes in the toes. Her parents are very cheap and cruel. She soon acquired the moniker ‘rag-doll’.

Jenny never gets angry and is always willing to help out and do whatever is asked.

Her mouth seldom closes all the way and when she isn't wearing her dentures, due to a rare but genetic gum disease which caused her mother to yank all her teeth against the advice of the professionals, she speaks with a lisp which is often because the dentures don't hurt and fit right properly.

When her confidence level is down, which is quite often, she will stutter. She rarely looks you in the eye when she speaks, usually looking down and to the side. Jenny was teased and tormented mercilessly while growing up by her parents and her friends.

Being the nosy bitch that I am, I often sneak peaks into her diary when she forgets to lock it. Then I went and did the unthinkable. I secretly had a spare key made. So you will be hearing my account of the trials and tribulations of the academy as well as excerpts from her diary.

Have I no shame? Nope. None! Well not back then, anyway.

The school officials are either on the take of the patron-parents of the school attendees, have vision and hearing problems due to age, or have personal substance abuse issues. So the pranks and irregularities go unnoticed or unreported. In other words, the kids run wild. They know what to do, when, where, and how to do it without consequence.

A note: The headmistress, Anne Bryce, they call her Queen Anne, does not like Jenny’s mother so she has became coldly unsympathetic, turning a blind eye to the many abuses and humiliations that Jenny will suffer at the hands of the other students.

(to be continued...)

End of Chapter 1

[caswell]

so far its really good, get the feeling of actually being there

[matt2matt2002]

more please

this could be a hot one

[Jo]

Chelsea Hills Academy – Chapter 2 – In the Office.

*** WARNING ***

One of more of the following chapters will contain subject matter of a potentially objectionable nature to certain individuals. Subjects will include: extreme humiliation, nudity, hetero-sex, lesbian sex, urine, animal waste, discipline to the bare bottom, having things thrown at individuals, and references to toilet duty. I hope that covers it.

About 10% of the events are based on or inspired by true events. The work is 100% original and the story is created, one chapter at a time. In other words, I don’t know where it is going how it will get where it’s going, or how it will end because the characters tend to acquire a direction of their own after the 1st chapter.

Thank you for your kind words of support for they are what propels me to continue the story. Without them...the story would find it's timely end.

=========================================

It has been a little over a month since Jenny started here at CHA. We’ve just been called into the headmistress’s office. You won’t believe all the crazy shit that’s happened since we last gossiped.

Jo: “You asked to see Jenny? She didn’t know the way partly due to the fact that she lost her glasses in a game of tug-o-war, which makes her as blind as a bat. So I volunteered to escort her.” I said politely, hands clasped behind my back standing next to Jenny.

Queen Anne: “How thoughtful….She’s been here over a month now and she still doesn’t know her way around? How sad? Jenny…please, have a seat”.

Jenny: “Yeth Ma’am”.

Jenny sunk down in the lavish maroon-colored sectional. I backed out the door to leave them to it but was abruptly interrupted half-way out the door.

Queen Anne: “No, I want you to stay, Jo. I want you to hear this because you’re going to become involved…that is…if it is of your choosing. I hope you do choose to become involved… for Jenny’s sake if not for mine.”

I walked forward standing behind the sectional and to the side of Jenny.

Jo: “Yes Ma’am”

Queen Anne: Jenny is this the way you dress and sit at home?”

Jenny: “Wh-what do you m-mean…M-Ma’am?”

Queen Anne: “You have the manners and upbringing of a low-bred swine. Your feet are up on the couch, your dress is filthy, your hair is a mess, you smell like a pig, and for God’s sake girl, where are your underwear? Your private area is totally exposed. Is this how you were brought up? Why am I so shocked, knowing your mother, the whore? ( My mouth was agape in shock) Have you no shame? And where are your shoes?”

Jenny promptly put her feet on the floor but sat like a guy with her knees spread apart her privates still exposed due to the extreme shortness of her sun-dress.

Queen Anne: “Close your legs, girl”

Jenny: “Y-Yes ma’am.” Jenny closed her legs but it wasn’t 5 minutes before they were spread again and privates exposed for all the world to see.

Jo: “If I may explain... (moving closer to the dark-cherry executive desk) Jenny only has 2 dresses... The other one, a knit-dress, is shorter because she washed it in hot water…As far as the panties…it was me…I threw her panties in the garbage (turning to Jenny) 'Sorry Jenny') because they had numerous holes, had lost their elasticity; they kept falling down, and they were stained beyond cleaning. The truth is, (in a lower voice) she never learned to wipe herself.

And all the time I’ve known her she always sits like that with her legs crossed on a bed or chair or spread apart like a guys. I try to correct her and she remembers for a little while and then…right back to her old habits. And her shoes…there are huge holes in the soles and now the toes. They hurt her when she walks. When she is inside she always goes barefoot and much of the time she goes barefoot when outdoors as well.”

Queen Anne: “And what’s with all this hair around your…(motioning the private area) and under your arms…and on your legs? You look like a female gorilla in heat. Haveyou heard of razors...shaving…and do you know what a comb and brush are?”

Jenny: “Th-he h-h-help…th-they always…always th-they did those things for me, Ma’am. I-I never l-learned how. I n-never had to..I-w-wanted to b-but my m-mother…wouldn’t---”

Queen Anne: “How pathetic. And your teeth…where are your teeth? Do you know how much you look like a damn fuck-doll with those huge botched-botox lips, your mouth propped open, and those mountainous zits around your mouth? And close your mouth…stick your tongue back in your mouth…my God, girl”

Jo: “Ma’am. It helps her breathe more normal when her mouth stays open like that. She has severe sinus problems since her botched operation”

Queen Anne: “Really? My God, what’s all that white stuff around your lips? You look like a wild rabid dog foaming at the mouth”

Jo: “Ma’am, when Jenny gets excited or nervous, she secretes puss through her zits as well as inside her mouth. She’s done that ever since she started here. She said it started happening after the operation on her lips; some low-cost foreign doctor with an experimental technique, she claims.”

Queen Anne: “I don’t recall your lips being that big when you started”

Jo: “They weren’t….she is out of the pills that she takes to keep the swelling down. He lips are about 2 inches thick each now….she said they will grow to about 3 inches thick each without her pills”

Queen Anne: “And what’s with all that lipstick…with those huge red lips, and white ring around your mouth, and scraggly uncombed head of hair, you look like Bozo the clown.”

Jo: “Ma’am, she wanted to learn how to apply makeup and I was trying to teach her. She always goes a little overboard. I tried to….

Queen Anne: “A little? Oh enough, already Jo…lock the door. None of what I am going to tell you can leave this room….do you understand?”

Jenny & Jo: “Yes Ma’am”.

Queen Anne: “I’m gonna get right to the point…Jenny, at one time I was engaged to your father. Then your mother, a stripper, part-time escort, , and former best-friend, saw dollar signs and a way out of her dismal existence and entrapped my fiancé with her cheap sexual offerings, managing to accidentally get herself pregnant.

You were the result and the engagement promptly broke off. I’ve never forgiven her for that to this day. And now she has the gall to send you here and flaunt all that ugly past right back in my face again. I don’t like her and I don’t like you. Her husband paid to get you in here and then she abruptly stopped paying, saying not to expect any more payments; the nerve of that bitch. Talk about adding insult to injury.”

Anne pours some hard liquor into glass and takes a serious downing slapping the glass on the desk.

I would normally throw your stupid fucking ass out on the got damned street but under the schools long-standing policy, any discharged student must be ‘presentable to society’ and that you are NOT. For most everyone here, that is the easiest test to pass. But the fact of the matter is…not only are you far from ready but, you never will be. It’s too late for you. You’re a lost cause.

Anne lights a cigarette.

Now…by law…I have to offer you the chance to stay if you wish. You are of the age where you must give consent. All you have to do is sign these papers. But do know this…Your stay will be indefinite…until I decide you can or should go. Than can be a few weeks, a few months, a few years…or…it quite possibly, in fact quite probably, be for the rest of your natural life. Do you understand?”

Jenny: “Y-Yes Ma’am. J-jenny…what sh-should I-do?”

Queen Anne: “Now if you do choose to stay, it damn sure won’t be for free. Your free days are long gone. You mother saw to that. You will have to work from sun up to sun down. You will mop floors, clean toilets, clean cow stalls and pig pens, mop the kitchen, be a model for clown-make-up, model nude for our artists, prepare the mud-wrestling ring, file books in the library, pull weeds, de-grease the auto-shop, wash clothes, wash dishes, take out the garbage…you get the picture.

Jenny: “Y-Yes Ma’am”

Jo: “How long do you think you would last out in the real world, Jenny. You don’t have any skills. You look and smell like shit. You are dumb as 4 nails. What do you think you could do?”

Jenny: “I kn-know I w-wouldn’t last t-two seconds”

Jo: “Right. If it was me, I’d stay here. At least you have food, ashelter, a bed, and friends. You might be signing your life away…in fact in all honesty you probably will be signing your life away...but it also might be saving your life.”

Jenny: “You’re r-right J-Jo. A-as a-always…yo-you’re all always right. I-I’m gonna always l-listen to y-you f-rom n-now on. Ma’am. I’ll sign now”

Jenny signed the papers and that very act ushered in a new era of humiliation and degradation the likes of which had never been seen at that school and possibly any other academy of this era. Anne gave sort of cat-got-the-mouse grin. I smiled to myself knowing the real fun was about to begin.

Queen Anne: “One more thing, Jenny. I am assigning Jo to be your mentor. You will do what she tells you without question. If I hear any complaints, you will be punished severely. You get up when she tells you, you go to bed when she tells you. She will be in charge of assigning your chores to you. You don’t eat, drink, piss, shit, or masturbate unless you get her permission. Understood? ”

Jenny: “Y-Yeth Ma’am”

Queen Anne: "That is if Jo wants to be responsible for your pathetic ass? Jo"

Jo: "I'll make the sacrifice if she promise 100% obedience"

Jenny: "OH I d-do, J-jenny, I do...I-p-promise...100%...al-always. You me-mean e-everything t-to me n-now.

Now hearing all the power that I was offered made me wet between my thighs. The prankster side of me and with my boyfriend who is the King of pranksters...here would be no limits...no stopping us now now. Total control of another human being.

Queen Anne: “Now the first thing Jenny will learn to do is wipe. Jenny you will start by wiping Jo’s private areas on your hands and knees after she goes to the bathroom…be it #1 or #2. Is that clear?”


Jenny: “Y-Yes Ma’am”

Queen Anne: “And Jo…don’t worry about her exposing herself. It’s a waste of time. In fact the more often she humiliates herself in front of others and even lets others humiliate and degrade her, the better. That’s the only way she’ll ever learn…if ever…which I seriously doubt.”

Anne winked which I knew was the sign for.... Open Season…Anything goes. Anne rose up and took out a tube of lipstick from her purse.

Queen Anne: “In fact, come here, Jenny.”

Jenny rose and approached Anne, meekly. Anne spat on her face causing Jenny to close her eyes. She spat and spt and spat on her. Then she applied her lipstick around her mouth in broad uneven ovals making the ludicrous, comical, circle of red even larger, from the bottom of her nose to the bottom of her chin. Her face was a total wet greasy red mess

Queen Anne: “there….that’s better. I changed my mind. You DO look better with more lipstick. Here…you need some eye shadow” and with that she took out some blue eye shadow and made large exaggerated circles around her eyes. That’s’ soooooo much better.

Jenny: “I-I d-do?”

Queen Anne: “Yes y-you do…the more the m-merrier… You look like you could follow in your mothers footsteps. She would be so proud of you now”
”

Jenny: “Jo – I –d-do?…”

I turned away, covering mouth, holding back the laughter trying to be serious.

Jo: “Yes you do…You look absolutely beautiful. The nicest I’ve ever seen you look”

Jenny: “Thank you, Ma’am”

Jenny’s excitement at thinking she was pretty caused her to get excited and secrete profusely.

Jenny and I returned to our dorm room drawing uncontrollable falling-down laughter and hollering from those whom they walked past. Jenny was oblivious to the fact that she was being laughed at. I was already concocting devious ways to have fun with my new toy.

I stopped having guilt feelings about having found her glasses in the mud, choising to keep them from her.

There she was in bed with a book 2 inches from her face mouthing the words out loud and following with her finger.

End of Chapter 2

[Richard]

Hmm, a little too strong for me I'm afraid; you seem to be exploiting a person who is socialy subnormal & educationally disadvantaged.

I prefer wam 'victims' to be willing and aware of their destiny.

[Jo]

Hmm, a little too strong for me I'm afraid; you seem to be exploiting a person who is socialy subnormal & educationally disadvantaged.

I prefer wam 'victims' to be willing and aware of their destiny.

--------------------------------------

Hmmm. I don't mean to offend anyone or suggest that it is ok to treat people a certain way.

I searched the rules and guidelines of the board and did not come across a requirement that characters in stories must be willing and aware that they are going to get WAMed.

But if your sentiment is shaared by the majority of readers or the moderator feels the story to not keeping in the spirit of the boards intentions, then I will gladly remove the story so as not to offend or discomfort anyone else.

No doubt Jenny is socially retarded. That was no accident. It allows for room for het to grow. Currently Jenny is and will be unaware that she is being humiliated. No harm no foul. But later when she develops a crush on a guy, she suddenly becomes more self-aware and self-concsious of her being with a desire to fit in. And than transcendence is based upon a real-life event.

It was going to be through her diary that we see how she morphs in her attitudes about her own humiliation. We see humiliaiton from the eyes of an innocent in its purest form. Not the same old same old.

While the mess and goo is a physical attraction, the most interesting element from my pov that can be explored in depth philosophically is this penchant to allow oneself to be humiliated. Where does that come from.?Why is that it can be sexually pleasurable? I was going to delve into those issues but....perhap another time...another place.

While certain events are true, the characters are purely fictional. I had hoped to make the central character so absurd that we could detach from associating her with real people. She is a caricature. Comically larger than life. Jenny is not educationally disadvantaged, she is in fact well read...a nerd of sorts...she is just slow and backward in social skills.

And...it is just a story...not real...fiction...no blood, no gore...no one dies.

[sol84]

Appreciate rarely post these days - complex life at moment - but do read regularly. Largely 'cos this remains the best site for this fetish of ours.

Large part of what makes it so good is the openess that is fast vanishing from the web generally and the very adept handling by the Mods. Ok, these things are very subjective, but record to date from Bill, Hayley, DD etc is spot on - in my view.

Only complaint is I soooo want Hayley to 'open up', I suspect she is my perfect fantasy ( I remain very jealous H ) - only real, if you know what I mean. No offence Bill and not trying to poach!

On first glance, Splosh fetish would seem quite niche of itself, but clear from posts that within this scene there are rather diverse interests. And because it is so tied in to our sexual outlook it is a deeply personal and emotional thing - hence ( I think ) potential strong reactions.

I have fought with people who tried to carry out messy pranks - that actually would have been a great turn on as a fantasy. Fantasy/ Reality is a fraught topic I suppose.

For me, Jo's story line is intreging. I am definately hooked and the groundwork laid out has such potential to ( for me ) hit all the right buttons. Equally, there is disquiet at the victim character being portrayed and certainly a feeling potentially close to the wire - but then thats where most of the best things in life reside. I can see potential for her character to come good or slip over the edge. Thats the authors perogative.

On balance, I want to see where this story goes. If the path so far is not to everyones taste I can understand and respect that, but it doesnt have to be read. However, I can see the potential that it could prejudice the forum generally if offence is caused - that is solely a call for B, H & DD and they seem pretty on the ball in judging the suitable ground to tread.

If there is concern, I would request perhaps a preview to the Mods - if that is ok with them and not least Jo. For my part, risk to Forum aside, I would like to read on and if I dont like how the plot goes will simply cease reading. Either way, I applaud the obvious considerable effort that has gone in so far.

[cumbrian]

Personally I think the story is excellent and would be very dissapointed if the next chapter did not appear.
Jenny is a character we can all relate to and probably have guilty feelings about, getting to know her better as the story unfolds can only be a positive thing for anyone who reads it.
Please keep up the good work Jo,

[Richard]

Jo.

My earlier comment did not mean that I wanted you to stop writing the story, I have no power to do that anyway. Merely that it was not to my personal taste so I probably won't continue to read it, but I'm sure that it will be appreciated by others on the forum.

As a writer of erotic sploshing fiction myself I always welcome feedback from readers, whether positive or negative criticism, as it tells me how far I can push the envelope before becoming offensive to the majority.

I wish you well and hope that other forum members will enjoy future episodes.

Richard (aka sotonude).

[BillShipton]

We are aware of the comments positive and negative about this story and monitoring it accordingly.

We don't approve of exploitation, obviously, but we don't approve of a lot of characters' behaviour in fiction. So long as she develops and wins through in the end then all should be okay.

Bill

PS I am sure Hayley will write some more in the future, tapp, though I doubt she'll live out her fantasies on film orin person!

[Jo]

Chapter 3 – Dear Diary

The fire broke out the day after Jenny arrived. It started in the kitchen, damaging parts of all the classrooms. Only the library was spared. Classes were just now resuming their normal schedule as students were assigned special reading and reporting assignments to be conducted in the library. But most of the students nestled in their rooms playing video games, watching TV, or listening to music. It was only Jenny and one of the two ‘lesser’ girls as they were referred to spent any time in the library. Jenny never missed a day. She loved to read. Jenny was classified as a nerd of sorts due to her fascination with all things technical, a gene she most likely inherited from her father, the billionaire inventor. Her main passion was reading the Scientific American magazine. Her other was a penchant for trashy romance novels. She seemed to be as smart academically as she was stunted socially. It is too bad that people are judged mostly by their appearances. Jenny never had a chance to be taken seriously.

I would sneak her diary out and Xerox copies and then replace it. I learned a lot about her. For example

Dear Diary: Having been home-schooled all my life has really made adjusting to life here difficult for me. I’m sure my mother meant well but I now think she may have over done it. I thought everyone grew up with nannies, tutors, drivers, maids, cooks, and personal attendants that waited on you hand and foot. I must now learn so many new basic tasks that I should already know. I know that I am looked upon as some kind of side-show freak and Jo wonders if all the leers and jeers bother me. The truth is no because I have no prior experience of being embarrassed. That concept never existed in our household. If I was going to become embarrassed then someone would have to teach me. It would be something I would have to learn.

At home going around nude was normal; more the rule than the exception as was feet on the couch. It was just natural. In fact all the help were required to work in the nude as enforced by my mother. I think she liked showing up her own playboy-bunny body against their older flabbier forms. And it was a requirement that the help be older than she was. Always going around in the nude is why I guess that my dresses are too short….because it had been a few years since I had an occasion to wear them. I rarely ever went out anywhere. The outside world was like a foreign country to me.

All this attention to my exposed parts is kind of exciting to me, especially from the guys. I’ve never had attention from guys before, for the most part, and while I am reminded that it is not the polite thing to do, it doesn’t change the fact that it sends a thrill down my spine when I catch them eyeing me.

There hasn’t been much normal class attendance since the fire but I do remember one of the Earth Sports we played; a modified version of tug-of-war. They put me nearest the flag. The team that pulled the flag tied to the middle of the rope across a 3 logs about 20 feet between them would win the game. Once you let go of the rope that was it. You couldn’t grab it again but you could grab a person’s body that was still attached to the rope. Well it quickly ended up just me on one end and this strong girl on the other end.

The grounds here have soft soil and it rains all the time up here at the academy, so everywhere you go the ground has this extremely thick and slushy top layer of mud varying from as much as one to two feet deep in spots. I was trying to hold onto the rope for dear life as I was being dragged closer to the first log. I was yanked forward and fell face first in a thick section of mud which caused me to quickly slide closer and over the first log. I was being slowly dragged face-down in the mud. I could feel mud covering my whole underside. Just I as I felt the bump of the middle log hit my head; I felt two pairs of hands grab my ankles and began dragging me back toward the first log. This backward motion caused my dress to roll up to my neck totally exposing me from the neck down. I also realized that I had lost my glasses and my sight was hampered even more by the mud-soaked rag covering my face.

My body suddenly twisted flipping me on my backside which caused my whole body to now become encased in a thick double-layer of mud. I could feel mud squish between my thighs which gave me a surprisingly pleasant sensation. The mud brushing against my breasts I found equally as pleasurable. My hair was totally enmeshed in mud. Even the mud that entered my mouth was somehow accepting. I enjoyed being cheered on by the crowd as if I something I did finally mattered to another person even if it was only because I was this strange foreign naked muddy female spectacle, at least I felt alive as opposed to my invisible existence at home; as existence or being raised by others, with my parents away from home most of the time and never speaking to me directly, only to me thru the. I rather enjoyed my new-found status as the center-of-attention but I made an effort to hide my pleasure for as I was learning from others that it improper to show pleasure from situations such as these. I couldn’t see the guys clearly. I could only hear their voices and I didn’t understand what they were saying but I was pretty sure it was about me.

My arms were getting tired and my grasp was weakening. I was pulled over the middle log again and this time my dress caught on a short twig. When I was pulled back by my ankles a second time, I lost my grip and I found myself totally naked and dragged backward face-down in the mud. Game over. We had just lost. I let my team down. But they applauded me as if we had won…as if I was some type of hero. It felt good. Jo grabbed my dress and told me she would get it washed for me. It felt natural to be totally nude again and the mud felt so sensuous.

Jo took my hand and walked me back to our dorms as I could only make out dark blurs. Night had set upon us in very quick fashion. I told Jo that I had lost my glasses and she said she would look for them. I could hear a camera clicking its flash and make out a blurred flash image in front of me. I think this was the moment that I realized I had developed an obsession for being engulfed or encased in messy stuff. I replayed the events of that game in my mind over and over again, reliving the sensation of being dragged with the crowd cheering and the sensation of the mud rubbing my thighs and breasts.

Back at the dorm I was already to take a shower but was reminded by Jo that the water main had been shut off due to the ongoing construction. The workmen were supposed to turn it back on before they left but they forgot and now I would have to wait until tomorrow night for a shower. The only water available was from a faraway well.

I stood in front of the dresser mirror and tried to see myself behind all the mud. Jo reassured me that it was no big thing. It was just wet dirt that would wash away. She cleared off the bed and placed a plastic covering on top and told me to lie down and relax. I lay down with my hands over my eyes my feet draped over the side of the bed my feet inches from the floor. I was just starting to doze off when I was startled by a knock on the door. Jo said it was John. I had met him only briefly once before for about 30 seconds. He was very handsome to me. He was very tall, muscular, dark curly hair, big blue eyes, well-tanned, and had this hunched-over look about him. I thought he and Jo were lovers cause they seemed so perfect for each other but she assured my they were more like play-brother and sister.

I had developed a secret crush on him as he reminded me of a particular night-in-shining-armor from one of my many romance novels. I sat up on the bed and for the first time felt what people were referring to when they talked of becoming embarrassed. I felt flushed. I unconsciously covered up, trying to shield my upper and lower privates with my hands. He reached out his hand to shake mine. I apologized for my muddy condition and used the hand that was covering my lower privates to shake his hand. His hand was big and strong and mine was small and weak.

He said it was no big deal and that in fact he found my look very sexy. Looking up at him in those bleached-cotton shorts, my face inches away from his growing bulge; I saw the head of his member forge its way out the bottom of his shorts and realized he wasn’t wearing any underwear. I knew he was like a handy-man; a jack-of-all trades who performed various odd jobs around the academy which explained his abbreviated dress, workmen’s boots, and his hairy naked chest.

Most of my vision of him was from the previous time I’d seen him and I was filling in memories from the past over this blurred version of him now. Jo had been schooling me on the birds and the bees, something that got skipped over in the cover of night to giving birth to a baby that I never saw or held in my arms.

This was the first time I’d ever seen a man’s member even it was blurred. The 3 inches that I saw wasn’t close to half of the bulge that remained hidden behind his now tighter-fitting shorts. Looking up at his powerful manhood so close to my mouth and him saying that he thought I had a sexy mouth caused me to pass out on the bed and fall backwards, arms sprawled, mouth agape and secreting heavily as I felt my legs spring wide open which was their natural relaxed position for me. There I was open and available for inspection only half-aware of what was going on. I tried to pull myself together but it was no use.

My mouth would always be a dead give away on my feelings one way or the other. I wondered if the wetness forming between my thighs was also not a dead giveaway. I could only imagine what I looked like. I was the beloved beast to this handsome beauty.

Before I knew it, he was gone and I was sitting up with a headache realizing that the alcohol I shared with Jo prior to John’s arrival was probably behind the pain in my head as well as a contributor to my passing out. I am not used to drinking and am an easy drunk.

When Jenny asked me what happened after she passed out I lied to her, telling her how much he talked about her just like I lied about John and I just being like brother and sister. I wanted her to feel good and I knew how she felt about him from my reading her private journal. Seems that when I try to do something mean-spirited to her, it turns out positive and when I try and something good, it turns out mean-spirited. I am having a tug-of-war with my feelings.

I saw no way out as John had happily agreed to this charade, compassionate to good intentions of wanting her to experience the kind of romance she had only read about.

How was I to know what kind of a monster I had created; a monster of the messiest of proportions?

End of Chapter 3

[Jo]

Chelsea Hills Academy – Chapter 4 – Down in the Dumps

[Dear Diary:]

The garbage strike had reached an impasse. The first casualties were the rural areas…which included the academy. From now we at Chelsea Hills Academy would be responsible for our own garbage. John, Mr. handy-man used a mini-dozer to bore out a two huge pits in the ground, one for food and the other for hazardous waste like motor oil, several miles from the school so as to avoid the ugly site and awful smell of a garbage pit.

Queen Anne was furious that Jo had been extremely lax in assigning tasks for me to do as had been agreed upon and threatened her with dire consequences if I was not immediately assigned garbage duty and that she didn’t want to see my’ ugly fac’e until the task was finished.

Jo woke me out of bed in the middle of the night and explained the situation. She suggested that I haul all 33 30-gallon, 21 60-gallon and 14 90-gallon garbage carts, which were overflowing their brims, collected over the 3-month long long-strike, to the garbage dump over 3 miles away in the cool of night and cover of darkness so as to mitigate as much potential personal embarrassment as possible. She also suggested that I would most likely get super-filthy and since I didn’t mind waking around nude that I make the trek without my dress, totally naked, and avoid having to clean my dress 3 or 4 times a day. Well as scary as that sounded, it seemed to make sense to me. My two dresses were close to rags anyway from all the washing and wear and tear.

John the handy-man was the only one who knew where this garbage pit was and would guide me there and back the 1st couple of times, Jo explained. It was supposed to be nearby the work-shed that he built. Jo also instructed me not to come back until I had unloaded all the garbage carts. She said that John knew of a tool-shed where I could sleep during the day and as far as food was concerned, there was plenty of edible food that I could pick out from the garbage since most of it was from the cooking classes. Sh smirked.

There I was naked and trudging the largest cart I could pull up and over the main muddy road up and over a little hill. I collapsed on the other side as soon as I was out of sight of the academy. And clumsy me, the cart dumped its entire slimy contents all over my naked body. I dreaded the task of having to pick it all up and put it back.

This was where I was supposed to meet John. I was already glistening in the night moon-light with slimy garbage. Every time he sees me I’ve been a mess. Now I was lying down on my back plastered in garbage and lying in a thick layer of mud.

Still tired from being awoken out of a dead sleep, and trying hard to stay awake, I slowly gave into the call for rest.

I was gently awakened by my night-in-shining armor. He stood directly over me as I stared directly up at his signature bleached-cotton shorts, his member peeking out as usual. He must have been the one who collected all the spilled garbage and put it back in the can. What a sweet man. Fortunately the trip to the pits was mostly down a slight incline.

(I could not enter the following events into my diary for reasons that would soon become obvious but these were my thoughts and an accurate account of what then followed)

[Jenny’s Thoughts:]

John told me that I was not to receive any help from him but that he felt sorry for me knowing that it would take me forever to haul the carts by hand. He said if I swore on a stack of bibles not to tell, he would help me haul them. Once we were out of ear-shot of the academy, he went into a thick of trees and rode out on a revved up small 4-wheel ATV which he attached to the garbage cart. He made me ride seated behind him, my arms draped around his waist and we coasted off into the night until he felt safe to start the engine. I could feel his huge hard member protruding straight up and beyond the top of his shorts…expanding and contracting. I pretended not to notice. The mud from the slushy trip kicked up in my face from the tires splashing in the unending dotting of mud puddles. It rained on the way there, not enough to get us clean but enough to make his shorts totally transparent.

We arrived in reasonable time. I looked out over a steep ridge at two huge circular pits one containing mostly food-type garbage and the other containing a mixture of mostly oil and sludge with the occasional splat of paint thrown in for good measure. Most of the food tossed out was used in the cooking classes and was probably edible and for the most part, the results of culinary experiments gone badly.

John invited me into a make shift lean-to shelter made from wide slabs of junk wood and curled tin stacked against a steeply sloping mountain he had already built to provide a quick and easy shelter from the cold and occasional drizzle of rain. He seemed to know his way around. He should since he excavated this double-duty dump-site single-handedly.

It was nice to be sheltered from the cold wind and steady drizzle. He lit an oil lamp.

John: “Wow you look a disgusting mess and I love it. I bet I do too. Don’t’ worry…it will wash off. Here have a drink…it will help keep you warm”

He shared some type of alcohol with me I took a stiff drink.

It was cozy in there with room enough for two but no more.

Then he told me he had a confession to make.

John: “If you tell anyone this there will be dire consequences…the least of which I will most likely be deported. Contrary to what Jo had told you was that she and i were indeed an item, i.e. boyfriend and girlfriend…at least in her eyes. It was Jo’s intention to have you continuously be on the receiving end of numerous messy or cruel practical jokes at the urging of her peers and with the blessing of the headmistress.

One of those jokes was for me to pretend to become interested in you romantically and find ways to mess you. I didn’t have a problem with that until I got to know you as a real person. I realized that it’s just not in my character and I am sorry for what I may have done to you from a state of weakness and poor judgment. She has also been reading your diary. She had a spare key made. Then when you assigned all of these harsh demeaning tasks, well that was the last straw”

Jenny: “Oh my G-God. What do you mean deported?”

He explained that he was in this great country by the good graces of Jo’s father who is a diplomat.

John: “I am here on an indefinite work-visa as a diplomatic aid. Obviously I am no aide but daddy’s girl gets what she wants. I met her when doing some handy-man work for her father when he was in my old war-torn country. Being in this country is a like a dream-come true…a chance for a new life. If Jo finds out I betrayed her, she will have me deported in a heartbeat. “

He shared with me his dream to bring his parents and sister over here once he could obtain a permanent visa which would could take several years but that he had to play along as Jo’s play-toy.

Jenny: “I promise…I swear to G-God, I won’t let on like I kn-know any anything…thank you so much for telling me. I know you di-didn’t h-have to”

John: “So I’m going to let her know that I can no longer do the things she has asked me to do to you”

Jenny: “No. If you do that, she’ll deport you. I don’t want that. I’ll do whatever I have to do. But I can’t let, no I w-won’t her do that to you n-never. Whatever it takes…and I do mean whatever it takes. Never. Ok?”

John: “Then if you’re sure that is what you want, then we have to be careful to keep everything going as if nothing has happened…which means continuing to make entries into your diary…even if they are false entries. Jo’s not really all that bad a person. She just hangs around bad people and lets them influence her. She is weak in that way because she seeks their approval and acceptance since her family really comes more from power than money and she feels like an outsider since she is from one of the poorest families in comparison. She is envious of your families great wealth but happy when she found out from the headmistress that your family had cut you off entirely from any future wealth thanks to your mother”

Jenny: “Yeah…well…who cares…I’m better off without it. I don’t need it. Never did. And Jo…to think I trusted her with my life? So where do we go from here”

John: “Well first we need to dump as many of these garbage carts as we can tonight cause it might not be that easy to help you after tonight. I doubt anyone will care to question how you managed to dump so many cans in one night….if so…then we got problems.”

John left to get more cans and told me to stay here and dump the cans in the pits and then rest up between drop-offs cause he knew how tired I was. But I was so upset about Jo that when wheeling a cart close to where I could empty it I lost my balance and fell in the food pit. I went totally submerged and fought my way up for air barely able gain my balance, ending up with garbage up to my neck. I landed with my legs spread wide over the can I had dumped as if I was riding a bronco and my feet got caught tight in some weird assemblage of mesh, wires, and metallic junk at the bottom. How embarrassing. I couldn’t even do one simple thing. The can had lodged itself in some type of stuff underneath. I tried and tried to get loose but no luck. I was trapped.

It seemed like forever before John returned but I was so glad to see him when he did. I feared he might not ever return. Silly me. This time I was really covered in slime as I saw my reflection in a mirrored piece of trash close by. I soon realized there was more than just food in here. I felt lucky not to have ended up hurting myself since I had nothing to protect me from sharp objects. I was lucky to have landed exactly where and how I did. Hearing the sound of an engine, I waved and yelled to John ‘Help. I’m down here. I fell in’.

My eyes were covered to where what little blurred vision I did have had been totally eradicated by the thick layer of slop over my face. Jokingly he told me I looked like some hideous swamp monster but that he said ‘Looks aren’t everything’. He told me he was stripping naked so as not to get his clothes dirty if that was ok. I told him I didn’t care but not sure he understood anything I was saying since my mouth was full of garbage and it probably sounded muffled at least that’s how it sounded to my own ears. I realized how vulnerable I was and how he could have done anything he wanted to me and no one would have known or cared.

The first thing he did was to dive down and examine the situation by feeling around. He said I was stuck tight and feared this could take a long time…. Possibly hours…maybe half the night.

He tried to pull me up from behind asking permission first before grabbing my slop-soaked titties and pulling me up. We both knew he didn’t have to ask permission to do anything but it was nice that he did. I secretly named him the ‘gentleman pervert’. His slippery large hands felt good on my perky breasts. All of a sudden I was consumed by the total feeling of filth and nastiness. He tried different angles but to no avail. John had more luck slowly rocking the garbage cart back and forth that was lodged between my legs. Each rocking motion rubbed slime against my pussy and clit…back and forth, back and forth. After several minutes he was able to free the 90-gallon garbage cart from between my legs, giving me some relief. My legs were still spread very wide with my feet still entangled in God-knows-what. He got between my legs and tried to push me up and free with his back, his neck pushing against my pussy. He was rocking back and forth. This also felt fantastic like masturbation. Then he explained that he couldn’t quite get the right grip and traction and felt the only way to free me would be to stick his thumb and fingers up my ass and in my pussy like I was a bowling ball. I hesitated only briefly and then said.

Jenny: “Sure….whatever it takes I guess. I don’t mind. I don’t want to be stuck here forever”

And with that I became a human bowling ball for the next few minutes with the other arm around my breasts as he tried to maneuver me first one way and then another. Again it felt good and weird at the same time. I felt like a greasy piece of meat and loved that feeling. I’m glad he knew what he was doing because I didn’t have the slightest clue as to how to get out of this mess…no pun intended. Then he shocked me. He told me that he had the right angle but not enough push and that he wanted to ask my permission…if he could to stick his dick in my pussy so as to provide a locked grasp at just the right angle and then push up.

Jenny: “Well I guess we’re running out of options and getting desperate so we have to try any and everything so…I guess it’ll be ok. I guess you can find the hole? Go ahead.”

And with that vote of approval he eased his dick inside my pussy and after adjusting a few minutes of poking in all my darkest recesses, he lunged upward. He kept lunging upward harder and harder. I felt the slime move against my body. I felt slime on my breasts. I felt slime in my pussy. It felt so good. I was being fucked for a good cause, I chuckled silently to myself. This was only the 2nd time I’d been fucked but the first time I can really remember what it was like to be fucked. Then after about 10 minutes, with little progress he stopped and thought for a moment. After submerging and coming back up he said that he could only think of one more thing to try and he’d have to try it in the next few minutes because he could feel the underlying water table raising the level of garbage and it wouldn’t be going down any time soon…probably not until the following day.

Jenny: “I said let’s just do it then. What are we waiting for? We’ve no time to waste”

John: “It’s just that…it’s so hard to ask you this. I feel so bad. It’s not a nice thing”

Jenny: “What is it? Ask me. I assure you the answer will be yes. You won’t hurt my feelings. I’ll do anything you suggest.

John: How long can you hold your breath?”

Jenny: “What…30 seconds maybe a minute, why?”

John: “Because what I need you to do is to bend over forward so I can get work the reverse angle. We’ve been going at it all wrong. I’m going to need to enter you from the rear, doggy style and thrust you forward while you are totally submerged. I think 30 seconds should enough time, 45 seconds maximum. Are you up for it?

Jenny: “Yes. I’ll do it”

He had me practice submerging and holding my breath for about 15 minutes. I went underneath and had to stay bent over as far as I could, he told me. I was totally encased in what smelled and tasted like a mix of bananas and custard which is not surprising since that is a popular desert recipe in the cooking classes. My head and body had to get about 2 feet under the surface in order for this to work John explained. I actually could tell that my feet had loosened a bit just from me leaning over in this unnatural position. He said the ideal would be if I could get on all fours. I finally managed to do this and was holding my breath for as much as 45 seconds. So we both took a 15-minute breather so I could save up my breath and get ready for the real thing. I held my breath for what I hoped would be the last time and John quickly penetrated my pussy from behind doggy style and thrust forward continuously not unlike people fucking.

One hand engulfed my breasts holding them tight for leverage while the other clutched me tightly around my waist. With each forward thrust my mouth took in more banana-custard mush. He was so strong. It felt so good. I also felt what it was like to BE garbage and was trying to come to grips with it psychologically. I was in garbage so technically I WAS garbage. And to my surprise I really liked it because I felt so good not only inside my body, my pussy and my mouth both bulging with mashed banana-custard mush, but also over every inch of the outside of my body. I was totally encased inside and out. Garbage was all there was. I could call it custard but garbage was more taboo and the greater turn-on. There was no so-called norm that I could sense. There was no differentiation between me and my surroundings. Sort of like sensory deprivation in reverse.

It was dark. All I could do was concentrate on my feelings. No sight. No sound except for the muffled sloshing of custard pounding my eardrums with each slippery cock-thrust. Just taste, smell and feel; the senses we use the least.

I was in the void. I was in pure fuck. I was fuck…there was no me anymore. I was just an extension of his dick. I felt like I was the new foreskin for his dick. I knew this was where I belonged.

I could feel my feet actually start to loosen from their twisted prison-maze. But I didn’t want to be reminded that this event had any sort of rhyme or reason. I felt as if I had just fallen so totally in love with this man. I was beyond love and was looking for a new word. I could feel the slosh inside my pussy which seemed to mirror the slosh inside my mouth as they seemed to work in tandem. I felt so dominated. I felt so controlled; so out of it. I felt so owned. I felt so low. I felt so wonderful. I felt so nasty. I wanted him to tell me later what it was like to fuck garbage? I wanted to hear how low I was to him. I was looking for the truest definition of perversity…I wanted to feel totally depraved and out of it.

Was I different than normal? Was I sick for doing this? I don’t know? Was I sick for enjoying it? Probably by most accounts but I didn’t care. It would wash off I told myself. It is just old food. I actually intentionally swallowed some of the mush just so I could know what it felt like to eat garbage while being fucked in garbage. It excited me every time I thought the word garbage because this was soooo taboo. So opposite of how I was raised; the extreme opposite.

I was a garbage continuum.

Just as I broke free I screamed with ecstasy but no sounds came out as I came while I was going. Instead I swallowed a gargantuan cheek-bulging load of bananas and custard in one big gulp, imagining I was swallowing his seed, as I sensed that John had come inside of me at the same time. Who could blame him?

It was our first time. I would remember it forever. It would also set precedence for me. I would forever crave being messy during sex; the messier the better. But I wondered if he would feel the same way or understand since it was obviously not his first time?

===================================
I was finally loose and free in more ways than one and gasping for air…all in a span of 45 seconds which I could swear was 45 minutes. I would have vivid dreams of this night. I would masturbate to it. I would play it over and over in my head. The smell of custard or bananas would forever make me sexually aroused and no one would know why. John carried me out of this joyous abyss cradled in his arms. He put me on his buggy and we drove off to his special retreat which revealed another side of John that no-one else had seen or would see. Too bad, I don’t remember entering his place…just waking up the next morning in paradise.

I woke up a few times during the night. I was spinning and restless from thinking. I had been contemplating what this new obsession was that had taken over my will. I eventually realized what it was; Humiliation. Extreme depraved humiliation. I craved it. I obsessed about being humiliated in various ways and always in the presence of John. The more humiliated I could imagine myself, the more turned on I got. And I realized what gets both John and I off together and that is…that climactic moment of ‘depraved indifference’.

I envisioned being degraded in some of the foulest of ways imaginable…always with John present and involved in some way. Then I separated degradation from humiliation. I realized I craved both but I refined their meanings. Degradation to me required the messing of myself by me or someone else. But humiliation required the scorn, jeers, howls, or laughter of one or more outsiders.

The intoxicating smell of a breakfast cooking over an open campfire graced and teased my nostrils. Reality. Last night…was it a dream? What was I thinking? What kind of low-lifed slut had I turned into? Who would want me around them after knowing I had wallowed in utter filth…and enjoyed it?

I was surprised but happy to see John had not abandoned me. In fact he as still covered in filth as was I which I considered a sweet gesture.

It was plain to see that John was an amateur artist from the sketchings, paintings, and sculptures around the place both inside and out. His artwork showed a different sensitive side about him which made me adore him all that much more….as if more was possible. Even with my impaired vision I could make out his talents. Through the night he had been working on one pencil sketch in particular. It was a sketch of him fucking me doggie style in the garbage pit with me totally submerged, on all fours like some bitch-dog in heat, and my mouth wide open. That was the reassurance that I needed to let me know that our depraved night would not be held against me as a negative incident.

This place was more like a large barn with a small corner-section crudely converted for sleeping. There were work benches and lots of small-engines in various states or repair and disrepair along with other various devices and tools that a workman would use to help maintain the premises.

John explained to me that this was his secret hideaway. He said that everyone thought he was staying in town with a friend 20 miles from the academy. He said he moved out from his friend’s place some time ago to save money and obtain some privacy and piece of mind. He made me promise not to divulge his secret. I swore to him that I held all of our discussions as private and sacred. I didn’t want to share any of our special times or secrets with anyone else. I now trusted no one but him.

John expressed for the first time how much he liked me and wanted to spend a lot of time with me to get to know me better. He asked if he could be honest with me. I told him that I valued honesty above all else and reassured him that nothing he could tell me would affect how I felt about him. It was then I noticed his accent. It was so sexy. He usually hid it from everyone. I think he was beginning to truly relax and be himself around me.

Then John told me some things that shocked and amazed me.

There is this girl at school named Heather Hothschild. She is the leader of the pack , so to speak. Everyone looks up to her and fears her. Heather is maybe 5 foot tall on a good day and considered by most to be the hottest chick at the academy with a quick, vengeful, and very nasty and spiteful temper. She is the oldest of the kids at the academy. No one contradicts her or disobeys her or dares cross her. Her father practically founded the academy for the soul purpose of humbling his daughter. Her mother’s name is Chelsea which is how the academy got its name. Some kids are heard to call it the Chelsea Hothschild Academy. Her family is the richest family by far except for mine, John told me.

She is a spoiled brat like no other, not unlike her mother. She is almost 25 years old. A condition of her inheritance is that she must attend the academy on a continuous basis until she turns age 30 at which time she will become insanely wealthy. If it weren’t for the inheritance, she would have been gone long ago and has been tempted to leave many times in spite of what is at stake. She spites the other kids because she is the only one who has to wait so long and she feels humiliated by that fact.

John: “Now I must confess that I am seeing Heather at the same time as I am attending to Jo. It was not my idea and if it was up to me I’d be uninvolved. Heather knows about Jo but Jo doesn’t know about Heather. Heather would like me all for herself, so I’ve been told. My feeling is that she doesn’t really want me…it is just that she doesn’t want anyone else to have me or be happy.”

John and I learned much about each other in the days that were to follow. I learned that I had a natural, untrained, mechanical ability for working on engines and was not only able to fix all of Johns tools but also teach him how to fix them for which he was totally astounded and forever indebted. I had to hold the parts up very close to my eyes which caused me to get grease all over my face and body. John was supposed to incorporate these small engines into a replacement class for the auto-repair class that had long since been abandoned since its only instructor resigned weeks ago.

John had lied about having mechanical skills in order to get this job and had dreaded the time when he would be called on the carpet for it. I saved the day for him he told me. I was covered in grease from head to toe with a layer of slime underneath. Neither one of us bathed because we both liked being dirty. We would play-wrestle on the ground which only caused my greasy body to mix with the loose dirt causing the grease on my body to thicken into a very heavy thick black syrupy goop.

John would use my body as a hand-painting canvas and sculpture template experimenting in all types of creative ways…all of them being sensuous to the touch with lots of probing fingers exploring all of my various holes in unimaginable ways. He called me his little grease monkey. I used to be his personal garbage-slut; so many nick-names to keep track of.

I started keeping a ‘new diary’ but would continue to make false entries into the old diary allowing it to be read by the snoopers just to keep them off guard and not reveal as if anything different was going on. John encouraged me to continue the fake entries and told me exactly what to write, knowing that types of things got Jo off, admitting that Jo would always masturbate when reading my diary.

John explained that Jo likes it when she thinks I feel desperate, used, and humiliated by him. I asked him how he knew this and he said because she told him what she wanted him to do to me. I was excited to make up these stories always wishing or imagining that they had actually happened, but I didn’t dare let John know for fear of going too far in divulging my depraved nature. So here is what John and I agreed that I would add.

[Jenny’s Old Diary:]

John asked me to meet him privately where there was no chance of being spotted. He suggested the pig pen whose only occupant had been sold for slaughter the previous week soon to be replaced by a younger sow. He told me to cover myself from head to toe with muck. That is what I did. The black slippery ooze went on very smooth as Ieven mixed my hair with it. I spread it between my thighs while thinking of him and got excited.

I could hardly wait to see him just to have him near me. He said this was the only type of date we could have and was I sure I was up for it? I told him I knew he loved Jo and I was nothing to him but was grateful for any kind of contact with him for I loved him and always would and would let him do anything to me no matter how degrading just to make him happy. He told me to wait for him. I sat covered in muck for 2 hours thinking about making him happy knowing I was nothing to him and that he would soon be leaving me to go on a real date with Jo.

John finally arrived. I said high but he said nothing to me. He immediately grabbed two huge gobs of muck and began laying an extra thick coating of black ooze all over me. It was thick and gnarly. He started slapping gobs at my face until my whole face was covered and basketball-shaped. Then he splatted gobs of muck on my body, my breasts, and in between my thighs sticking his fingers in my ass and pussy. Black ooze was caked on me everywhere until there were no remaining recognizable human features. I was just a big black blob with a mouth. He laid me on the ground on my back.

I immediately began to sink down in the soft muck until only my nostrils were exposed just enough to breathe. He unzipped his pants and stuck his huge cock in my mouth causing me to gag and forcing out half-soft clumps of muck that oozed out over the sides of my mouth forming a little black-volcano around my mouth. He muck-fucked my mouth as I lay submerged as if he was just masturbating inside a hole in the ground. After awhile he stood up and relieved himself over all of my encrusted body and then finished off by filling this newly-created man-made volcano of muck around my mouth until it overflowed all over my face. He asked me if I wanted to see him again the next night. I ashamedly nodded yes without hesitation. I felt so ashamed, used, degraded, and humiliated and yet I had no will to prevent scenes like this from happening again and again and again.

And that was what Jo eventually ended up reading, all of it a big lie.

I loved staying with John. He would pretend to drive in from the city to the academy and then pretend to drive back to the city. All this time he was making a quick 4-mile trip from his secret camp to CHA and then heading back to spend time with me. But we both knew that soon things would have to change lest people catch on to our tryst.

John indicated that he suspected Jo was getting suspicious, as was Heather, about the seriousness of our relationship. John was supposed to be using me but they suspected things had changed. What really caused him to become suspicious was when he was no longer able to find Jo’s diary. He also noticed the way that Jo and Heather asked him questions about him and me. He felt uncomfortable not knowing what was going on; like perhaps she was onto him. He had been secretly reading her diary which she never locked. This gave him an edge on what she was thinking and how to manipulate her or remain un-manipulated by her. Now he suspected that Jo and Heather were up to no good…he just didn’t know what.

He needed to see her diary in a real bad way because he was starting to get paranoid. I was in whole-hearted agreement. We concocted a well-thought out plan. He said that he would get my glasses back tomorrow and make Jo think she misplaced them but I had to promise not to ever wear them where anyone could see me with them on for that would be a dead give-away and the whole game would be over. The next day John snuck out my glasses and also surprised me with my favorite reading material from the library. I love this man.

End of Chapter 4

[mhalver]

I for one, would love to see more of this.

[caswell]

Please, please carry on this amazing story

[mhalver]

Please tell me you are going to continue this - I am really enjoying it.