The Spy

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Another erotic story from the FLOGMASTER!

Copyright 1985-2016 by the Flogmaster. All Rights Reserved. Free distribution via electronic medium (i.e. the internet or electronic BBS) is permitted as long as the text is _not_ modified and this copyright is included, but _no_ other form of publication is allowed without written permission. This document _may_ contain explicit material of an ADULT nature. ***READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!*** Anything offensive is your own problem. This story is for **entertainment** purposes only, and it does _not_ necessarily represent the viewpoint of the author or the electronic source where this was obtained. All characters are *fictional* -- any resemblance to real people is purely coincidental.

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The Spy

(****, F/ff, Intense, schoolgirl slippering, sex)

An injured spy recuperates at a private girls' school. (Approximately 3,420 words. Originally published 1998-03.)

"We're in!" hissed Mandrake as he pressed the release on the safe. The giant metal door noiselessly slid open. Dix grinned at his partner and stepped forward.

Mandrake heard the distinct click and was diving away even as the explosion rocked the room. He hit the floor rolling, and let his momentum carry him toward the window. The blast had knocked out the glass and four seconds later Mandrake was tumbling down the hillside. Even as he bounced off trees and tore through shrubs he was thinking of Dix, knowing there was nothing he could do. The poor boy had taken the full brunt of the blast. At least it had been quick.

Careening to a hard halt against the brick wall that circled Grumault's estate, Mandrake painstakingly got to his feet and did a self inspection. The quick conclusion: he was a mess.

His body was a mass of scrapes and bruises, and his right ankle was swelling up like a balloon. His head ached and there was a sticky spot at the back. The worst was a nasty cut on his left side which had absorbed some of the blast from the safe bomb. A flying chunk of metal had torn open the skin from underarm to hip, and he was bleeding badly. The wound was superficial, but dangerous, and covered with and grim from his tumble down the hillside. He needed medical care, fast.

Mandrake ripped off his shirt and began tearing it into strips. In minutes he had a makeshift bandage wrapped around him. It helped, but he was still losing blood rapidly.

Mandrake surveyed his situation. It was pitch black, on a night with no moon, and pouring rain. All his equipment was back inside the mansion. He didn't even have a coat. His only weapon was his flimsy two-shot ankle pistol. He was already injured and drenched. Whoever had rigged that bomb would quickly discover it had claimed only one victim and be out looking for him. Mandrake would have to move fast. He figured he was on the north side of the estate, and the car was parked just off the south entrance.

With terrible grunt at the pain Mandrake began to scale the brick wall. Reaching the top he cat-stepped over the barbwire and leaped into the ditch beside the road. Rolling across the hard, rock-filled ground was pure torture, and Mandrake was dizzy with pain when he finally got back to his feet.

He immediately began to head north. Whoever had planted the bomb had known too much. Obviously the network had been compromised. He had no idea how deeply. The car wasn't safe, and until Mandrake had assessed the situation, he couldn't afford to call for assistance. He was on his own.

A half hour of sloughing through the rain had exhausted nearly all of Mandrake's strength. Grumault had chosen his fortress well -- Mandrake hadn't passed another building all night. There hadn't even been a single car. Just as he was growing desperate, he caught sight of a grilled gate framing a large estate. Knowing that most gates are well secured, he elected to climb the modest six-foot fence that circled the place. Thus he did not see the sign at the entrance reading "Madame Cullot's Private Academy for Girls".

* * * * *

The thump was loud and echoed through the dark room. "Shhh!" hissed a girl's voice, and another quickly apologized.

"Mary dropped a ham," a girl giggled.

"Do you want us to get caught!" asked the first girl. She appeared in the doorway, her eyes glowing in the near darkness as she glared at her two friends. Mary released the button on the refrigerator's light and a white glow illuminated her in the darkness.

"Mary, what are you doing?"

"Come on, Sarah, it's after midnight. She's asleep. Doing this with some light will be much faster."

"Oh, all right. But keep it quiet."

Sarah rounded the corner and resumed her watch. She was still nervous and on alert when the strong hand wrapped around her mouth and wrenched her head back. She gurgled, but went silent when she saw the gleaming barrel of a small pistol pointed at her head.

"Keep quiet," whispered a deep male voice, and Sarah went weak. She suddenly needed to pee very badly. Oh why, oh why had they picked tonight of all nights to conduct a midnight feast? She intensely wished she was back in her bed, sound asleep like she was supposed to be.

"I'm not going to hurt you," whispered the man. "I just need some supplies. A coat, some food, some bandages. How many people are in this building?"

Sarah didn't answer, and the gun loomed closer. It didn't look so small when it was pointed at your eyeball. "Mmmfph," she said.

"You're not going to scream?"

Sarah shook her head.

"Good. If you scream, you are dead."

Sarah nodded and slowly, the grip over her mouth loosened. She began to breathe again, realizing for the first time that she'd been holding her breath.

"How many people are in this building?" the man asked. He was pressed close against her, holding her tightly, and she could feel the wetness from his clothes. He was drenched. Obviously a tramp of some sort, caught out-of-doors and looking to steal a handout. But he smelled nice, which she thought was strange. It took her a moment to place it -- _Chateau L'Orange_, the same aftershave her father used.

"For... forty-seven," murmured Sarah.

"That's everyone?"

"No, forty-seven live-in students and six faculty. There are others, but they don't stay here at night."

"Pssst. Sarah. Is the coast clear?" Amy's voice from the kitchen had caused the man to re-muffle Sarah's mouth and drag her back from the door.

"Tell them to come out into the main room, slowly," he hissed in Sarah's ear, carefully releasing her mouth.

"Everything's okay," said Sarah, wondering if that was true. "Come on out into the main room."

Mary and Amy stepped forward, arms laden with treats. "Come on, lets go upstairs," whispered Mary. She stopped when at stared in amazement. Sarah stood in the main lobby next to an armchair, the table lamp glowing brightly. "What's wrong? Why'd you turn the light on?"

Both girls froze when the man slowly stood from behind the chair, the gun firmly and obviously pointed at Sarah's head.

"Do not make a sound," he ordered. The two girls nodded. "Step forward. Put the food down on the table there."

Sarah shuddered as her friends obeyed. Now it would come. Surely the man wanted to rape them or something. She couldn't help but be aware that all three of the girls wore skimpy nightgowns. She wondered if she could keep quiet while he did it. If not, perhaps he'd kill her.

"You." The gun pointed at Sarah. "What's your name?"

"Sarah."

"And you two?"

"I.. I'm Mary."

"Amy."

The man grunted. "So this is a school or something? Damn my luck!" Suddenly he staggered, grabbing the armchair for balance.

Despite herself, Sarah found herself reaching out to help him. That's when she saw he wasn't wearing and shirt and the whole left side of his body was drenched with red blood.

"My God!" she cried. "You're bleeding!"

"No duh," grunted the man. "Did you think I broke in here at gunpoint for hot chocolate? I need bandages."

"But... we must call an ambulance," said Mary.

"No!" snapped the man. "If I go to the hospital I'll be dead by morning."

"But--"

"They want me dead, don't you understand? If they find me, I'm dead. If _anyone_ finds me, I'm dead. So no hospital, no cops, no nobody. You got that?"

The silence was cold and deadly.

Sarah felt a warm sympathy for the man. His fear was sincere. She didn't know what he had done, or who wanted to kill him, but he didn't seem like a bad man. She suspected his gun was merely to intimidate. He wasn't going to hurt them.

"Okay," she said boldly, "no hospital. But we've got to get you out of here. If Mrs. C wakes up she'll call the police."

"Is she the principal?"

"Headmistress," said Amy, stepping forward to help Sarah with the man. It was obvious from the look on the girl's face that she found him attractive, despite the gun and the unusual situation.

"Let's take him upstairs," said Sarah. "If we can get him up there without Mrs. C noticing we can take care of him and no one will know."

"No," protested the man weakly. His skin had gone pale and he was wobbling. "There are too many of you upstairs. I can't watch fifty schoolgirls at once..."

"You don't need to worry about us," said Sarah gently, studying the man's bandages. "If Mrs. C catches any of us up in the middle of the night we'll get the stick. You can bet that we'll be quieter than you!"

"Please..." moaned the man as the girls approached. Suddenly he fainted into Sarah's arms. As she struggled with his weight, Mary and Amy hurried forward and assisted her. Together the three girls managed to lift him. It took a while, and numerous rest stops, but the girls carried the unconscious man up the stairs and into their dormitory room.

After settling him Sarah's bed, Mary and Amy returned downstairs for the grub. The other girls, awakened by the sounds, gathered around to see the man.

"Who is he?" "What's he doing here?" "How'd he get hurt?" "Was he shot?" "What are you going to do with him?"

"Shhh," whispered Sarah as she struggled to remove the man's soaked trousers. "All I know is that someone's trying to kill him, and he won't go to the hospital. He needs our help. He won't hurt us."

"And he's a hunk," giggled Andrea, pointing to the man's tent-shaped underpants.

All the girls chuckled at this, and of course everyone wanted to help. Sarah had to push away many of the girls, finally selecting four to be her official assistants.

"Megan, you get me some towels, and Donna, a basin of warm water. Jess, find some clean cloth we can use for bandages. Elise, see if there's some disinfectant in the medicine cabinet. And the rest of you, get back to bed. We've got work to do and we don't want to alert Mrs. C that we've got a strange man in our rooms after lights-out!"

The girls scurried to obey, passing a tiptoeing Mary and Amy, returning from downstairs with the food. They stashed in a corner and Amy went to help Sarah. Mary huddled with some other girls, telling them everything she knew.

With the water and towels the girls brought, Sarah bathed the man carefully, washing off all the grim from his skin. She removed his makeshift bandages and made new ones, liberally spreading on an antiseptic cream Elise had found. This stung and caused the man to moan slightly, and wake up. Sarah smiled at him.

"Feel a little better?" she whispered.

He nodded. "Thanks. Name's Mandrake, by the way."

"Mandrake?"

He shrugged. "Yeah, sorta silly calling me by my last name, but it's been done for so long I probably wouldn't answer to my first."

Sarah grinned. "Alright, Mandrake. Now lie still, and we'll fetch you some water and food."

A few minutes later the man was sitting up in the bed, gnawing on his second chicken drumstick, and enjoying all the attention of four dozen wide-eyed teenage girls dressed in nightgowns and pajamas.

Suddenly the alarm was announced. Mary, who'd gone out into the hallway to keep watch, dashed into the room. She hit the light switch and in the sudden darkness girls everywhere began diving into beds.

"Shit!" cursed Sarah. "It's the Head! Quick, help me, Amy!"

Together the two girls dragged Mandrake off the bed and onto the floor. He landed with a bit of a thump, which must have hurt dearly, but he didn't utter a sound. With amazing speed he slid under the bed frame and was gone from sight.

Sarah and Amy weren't so lucky. They were standing by Sarah's bed when Mrs. Cullot flipped on the main light.

"What on earth!" exclaimed the stout woman. "You two. Up talking in the middle of the night?"

Sarah thought quickly. "She -- she thought she saw a mouse," she blurted out.

The headmistress frowned. "A likely story. I ought to thrash you both..."

The two girls gasped and held their breath.

"...but I didn't bring my cane. Sarah, fetch me your slipper."

Obediently, the seventeen-year-old retrieved one of her large leather-soled slippers from her section of closet and carried it to the headmistress. Without even waiting to be told, she bent over at the waist and grasped her ankles with her hands.

"You too, Amy," snapped the woman, and the smaller girl darted forward and took up a position next to her friend.

Mrs. Cullot quickly lifted the girls' nightgowns and tugged their white panties down to their knees. Two pale, naked bottoms gleamed and forty-six pairs of eyes watched secretly. One set of eyes belonged to a man, Mandrake by name, who lay under a bed and peeked from beneath a dangling bed-sheet.

The headmistress wasted little time. Gripping the slipper in her left hand, she promptly began to deliver a stinging salvo of blows to Sarah's right cheek. After six she moved to Amy and gave her the same. Then it was six more to Amy's left cheek, and six to Sarah's left. Now both girls stood quivering, their bottoms a bright pink. The room was as still as a cemetery after midnight.

Mrs. Cullot repeated the entire process a second time, stopping only when both girls had received a dozen whacks of the slipper on each cheek.

"Will that keep you quiet?" she asked when finished.

"Yes, ma'am," said Sarah quickly.

"Oh! Yes, ma'am," cried Amy, wincing as she stood and pulled her panties back up.

"Alright. To bed for both of you. And if I have to come up here again tonight, I'm bringing my cane!"

Sniffling a bit, Sarah returned to her bed and climbed inside. She could feel the eyes of the headmistress burning into her, so she pulled the covers over herself and pretended to be sleeping. The bed was slightly damp from the man's wet clothes. It felt strange lying where the man -- Mandrake was his name -- had been lying just moments before. She could still smell his fragrance, both the aftershave and a deeper, earthier smell that excited her.

Finally Mrs. Cullot left, closing the door behind her. Sarah waited for a solid five minutes before she got up. She flipped on a small table lamp and knelt beside the bed. Peering underneath, she whispered: "Are you okay, Mister?"

"I ought to be asking you that," Mandrake replied, amusement filling his voice. He crawled out from underneath the bed. "That woman is rather harsh."

Sarah at on the floor and smiled. "Oh, she's okay. She's strict, but we all know the rules. Technically we should have gotten the stick, but we got off with just the slipper. We'd better not give her an excuse to come back up here, though."

"Don't fancy a caning tonight?"

"I'd rather not." Sarah rubbed her backside and grinned.

"But stripes make such nice decoration," smiled the man. "Especially to such a fine canvas."

Sarah blushed and glanced away. "Oh, I'm certain _you'd_ find it amusing. Canings are always exciting to watch -- unless you're next in line for one, of course."

"Looks like he found your slippering exciting," said a voice, and Sarah looked up to see the mocking grin of Andrea, lying across Sarah's bed and staring at Mandrake aroused crotch. Sarah found herself admiring the man's fine physique even as she apologized for her friend's "big mouth," but Mandrake didn't seem bothered.

"Now there's a girl that deserves a slippering," he said quietly, his steely eyes locking with Andrea's. The girl froze, caught in his gaze.

Sarah nodded. "Not a bad idea. Perhaps a little frontier justice is in order!" She picked up her slipper from the floor and waved it menacingly.

"No!" cried Andrea, pulling away and rushing back to her own bed.

Sarah turned to Mandrake, who was smiling with delight. "You know," she whispered, licking her lips and pointedly stared at his mid-section. "She's quite correct."

"Why you dirty devil!" hissed Mandrake. "You are a naughty thing, too!"

Sarah giggled and glanced around the faintly-lit room. "I'm afraid we all fit that description. We don't get out much. That's why our parents like this school."

She bent forward, placing her lips on Mandrake's belly. She kissed him several times, until he relaxed slightly. "Easy, soldier," she whispered. "Keep quiet unless you want Mrs. C to come back."

"She'd come back to thrash your bottom," he growled, leaning his head back. His voice was strangely rough and out of focus.

"Oh, you'd like that, I can tell. Look at your little soldier here -- he's all ready and willing."

Mandrake groaned as his underpants left him and the girl's breath tickled the tip of his erect cock. "Oh, God!"

"Oh, yes!"

After just a few teasing licks, Mandrake was more than ready. Sarah was also ready. She'd been ready before the slippering, but the embarrassment of having her bottom bared and spanked in front of a strange hunk of a man had really sent her over the edge -- now she was uncontrollable in her passion.

"You didn't have a wallet in your pants," she whispered to Mandrake as she nibbled on his nipples.

"Nooo," he moaned.

"No id, a little money, nothing else. Well, almost nothing else."

Mandrake's eyes went wide.

"I did find these," Sarah said, holding up to square packets. "I wonder what these are for. I suppose we shall have to test them out."

"Oh, God!" groaned the man. "I'm injured, please, you can't do this to me."

"Who's doing anything _to_ you?" giggled Sarah into his ear. Her tongue darted in and out. "You want this, don't you?"

"No, I'm too sore! I'll cry out!"

"Better be quiet. Mrs. C's right downstairs!"

After a long moment of struggle the packet was opened and the condom rolled onto Mandrake's member. He continued to protest, but his defense was weak and his body betrayed his real feelings on the matter.

Sarah wasted little time. Her panties vanished and she knelt over the man and in moments was orgasming as his hands fiercely squeezed her sore backside. "Ohhhh," she moaned.

"Shhhhh," he grunted.

"Ooooh," she gasped as he thrust deeper inside her. He began to pump and she squeezed her legs together slightly. Glorious sensations flooded through her. She giggled with delight. Mandrake groaned as the wound on his side was twisted. But soon the pain was forgotten as he experienced one of the best orgasms of his life.

He collapsed, panting heavily. Sarah, beaming from ear to ear, slowly rose. Andrea was standing behind her. "I'm next, I'm next."

"Fine."

Mandrake eyes widened as Andrea knelt over him. "What the--"

"You've got a lot of work to do, Mandrake," whispered Sarah. "Some of us might even want seconds."

Mandrake groaned. "I can't, I can't!"

"Of course you can," said Andrea, rubbing Mandrake's crotch and watching it swell with excitement. "See? You just need a little encouragement."

Sarah smiled devilishly. "We've got all the encouragement you need, Mandrake."

As Andrea began to hump the helpless man, her moans grew louder and louder.

"She's noisy. What happens if Mrs. C comes up?" asked Amy, standing next to Sarah.

Sarah shrugged. "I suppose she'll get the cane. Small price to pay, if you ask me." She turned to the other girls. "Everyone gets one turn free, but if Mrs. C comes up with her cane, you have to earn your second dose by accepting a caning."

There were immediate cries of "Cool!" and "Great idea!" from the surrounding girls, followed by a weak moan of protest from Mandrake. Mary rushed off to the door to watch for Mrs. C. There was no question now that one way or another, the headmistress would be visiting with her cane.

In many ways it was like any other night when a girl or two was thrashed. Only this time, the girls being caned would be working hard not to smile.

The End

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