tagBDSMThe School Marm's Distress

The School Marm's Distress


Miss Lynette Bowmar tugged at the rough ropes that fastened her prim hands to the cast iron head board. As it had the fifty or more times before it did no good and she was just as fast secured as when she had woken up, tied spread eagled to the bed upstairs in the Silver Snake Saloon.

Two months ago Miss Bowmar had taken the bone rattling stage from Springfield Illinois to Littlebird Creek in the Colorado territories to assume the position of school mistress to the freshly built school.

The town fathers had not been as forthcoming as perhaps they should about how "rustic" the settlement was. She had expected a thriving freshly built new city, instead she arrived to a grey toned dusty hamlet of less than 120 people. She had been put up in the rooms above the Saloon for the first night, but the smell of cheroot smoke and the incessant tinkling of the piano and high pitched shrieking of the dance hall girls had made her head ache, and the next day she demanded separate quarters and was shown a patched tent which was pitched behind the town meeting house which served as the school during weekdays where slack jawed farm boys and bored daughters of drovers attempted to learn their reading and ciphering.

The town had it's fair share of drifters and grifters passing through but she stayed in her tent at night, clutching her grandmothers bible her mother had given her and a single shot derringer her father had passed to her as she left. She had never fired it.

Two days ago a man had ridden into town on a black stallion. His saddle was fine black Spanish leather set with silver conchos. A saddle holster held a Winchester with an eagle feather hanging from the stud decorated stock. He wore a charcoal black duster grimed with the grit of the trail. A ebon low crowned hat sat atop a head sporting black hair that hung down to the turned up collar of the duster. A goatee and mustache the color of night framed his full lips, and his eyes were like those of a predatory animal. As he rode by he looked at herm shamelessly staring in her face and locking gaze with her. His eyes were a greenish brown of a pond at twilight, and the pupils were sable pits that seemed to stretch to the nether world. He reached up a gloved hand and tugged at the front brim of his hat as would a fine gentleman saying "how do" to a lady on the street. Lynette had shivered then and broke the stare and looked at the dusty street watching the hooves of his horse walk by.

That night when Mrs, Lee the Chinese woman who made her supper in exchange for tutoring her two sons after school hours (The fine people of Littlebird Creek would not approve of heathen Chinee sitting in school with their darlings. Sadly Lynette feared it might be because the two young men far outshone her other pupils!) she was whispering about the "Black rider" who had arrived today. She said he was called Buck Blacksnake, part Comanche and part demon so the stories went. Mrs. Lee said he was wanted in at least 4 territories and 2 states. The sheriff had suddenly decided to ride out and check on some ranchers south of town a few minutes after the dark visitor had arrived.

Now he had set up court in the saloon, playing poker with a red headed dance hall girl on his knee.

As she had went to sleep that night she had unloaded and reloaded her derringer and said the Lord's Prayer over and over again, each time when she got to the "Valley of the Shadow of death" she could imagine the muffled hoof beats of the dark rider behind her, coming out of that shadowy place of demonic despair.

She slept fitfully that night, the chill wind rippling the canvas of her tent. In one dream she fell into the pupils of his eyes, like a bottomless pit and as she fell her clothes were torn away until she was tumbling nude down the dark shaft of his stare. When she landed she was in the smoky bar of the saloon, dressed in the low cut garb of one of the dance girls. She was sitting on his knee, with his large tanned hand on her thigh, much higher than a mans hand should be unless it was one she had stood before a preacher with. A part of her was horrified but another part felt a tugging in her stomach as she looked down upon the upper swell of her bosom bare to the world and her nipples swelled and crinkled like they did on a cold morning on a trip out to the privy, but not from outer cold but from an inner heat.

When she awoke the next morning and prepared for her day. It was Friday and the children would be rowdier than usual. She was surprised at the number of absences that morning. It seems several of the farm families had chosen not to send their children to town that day. She taught as if in a fog. The dreams of the night before would come back suddenly and unbidden, making her knees weak and creating a humid state between her thighs. Surely this was the devils doing and she would pray for forgiveness as soon as the students left for the day.

About ½ hour before school let out, she heard the ring of spurs approaching the door. As Lynette looked up she saw the dark shape of the stranger standing in the door. He was over six feet tall and his hat brushed the lintel of the door and his broad shoulders did a good job of filling the door way. He wore a double breasted shirt with pewter buttons. A red scarf was tied around his neck. Faded black jeans ran down to black boots. Around his waist was a gun belt with a stag handled .44 in a tie down holster on the right side and a huge Bowie knife on the left. The classroom fell silent.

Lynette felt her throat tighten so that her breath was captured in her chest surrounding a heart fluttering like a moth trapped in a mason jar on a moonlit night.

She coughed and managed to gasp out, "May I help you, school is in session."

The man spoke in a low even tone, "Sorry to bother you, ma'am. I myself am a great admirer of education and those who disseminate it."

Lynette was shocked to hear such a sophisticated vocabulary from such a man.

He walked into the room as all the children sat silent and wide eyed looking at the dark apparition that had come upon them on this afternoon. A freakish late autumn storm was brewing outside and as he approached the front of the room, a flash of lightning illuminated the room making his apparel seem even darker by comparison. As the thunder pealed a few seconds later, one of the younger girls whimpered and Lynette's soul knew her terror.

Buck stopped by Trevor, the son of the local banker. He picked up the boys slate. "And what are you learning this stormy day young man?"

Trevor gulped but managed to blurt out, "The Declaration of Independence and The Constitution of the United States of America...ummm sir"

"Ah yes, Life Liberty and the pursuit of happiness.." Buck said smiling and looking at the teacher. His penetrating gaze paralyzed her. She had felt as if she were standing there bare, as if he could peer through her gingham dress and under things, to see her blushing skin beneath. The way he had drawn out happiness had made it sound as if were saying something sinful.

She drew her courage together and spoke again, "This is a school, sir. Firearms are not permitted here, I am afraid you'll have to leave."

He smiled at her. "If I am not mistaken this is public property, Miss Bowmar." Lynette stiffened hearing him use her name. "as a citizen of these United States I am allowed to be here and observe the methods used in the education of the future of our great land. And lets see, you!" he said pointing at a skinny thirteen year old girl sitting close up front, "What is the second amendment of the Constitution?"

The girl paled as the tall man fixed her with his gaze. "Um....the second amendment deals with the right to bear arms and...."

Buck did not wait for her to finish but slapped the handle of his six-shooter, drawing it out like a snake striking, spinning it around his finger three times before stopping it pointing at the ceiling, his thumb cocking the hammer naturally as blinking an eye.

"Give the little lady a piece of rock candy!" said the dark man, releasing the hammer slowly, spinning the gun in reverse and sliding it into his holster in one practiced motion. "I am just exercising my constitutional rights. But since you asked real nice like, and since I left my coat back in my room and it sure looks like rain, I am going to take my leave." Then tipping his hat to the teacher, he said. "Hope you stay dry tonight Ma'am, though sometimes it's nice to get wet too........."

And with that he spun on his heel and spurs jangling and heels making a steady knock on the wooden floor he walked out into the windy October afternoon.

She could not eat her supper that night. Fear and a strange restlessness gripped her as she sat in her tent with the lantern wick turned low trying to read. Soon it would be time to blow out the light and get dressed in her night gown in the dark. She did not relish the cool air on her naked body but tonight it might be a relief. Her corset seemed to be constricting her chest, and he under things were uncomfortably moistened, a feeling she had never experienced before.

Rain spattered in uneven waves as the wind drove it in gusts. An occasional flash of lightening lit up the white canvas, and one came now and on the wall by the door she swore she saw a shape, a man sized shadow played on the canvas by Zeus's' thunderbolt.

She reached to the folding table where the lantern sat and grasped the small derringer, pulling back it's petite hammer.

She gulped her breaths like a thirsty man gulped water. Her vision swam. As the rolling thunder sounded again a knife blade appeared at the top of the opening to her tent moving downwards to cut all of the ties in a single swift motion. The tent flap pushed inward and a shadow poured itself into her makeshift bedroom. Rain dripped from his duster and the brim of his black hat, the lantern light gleamed off the blade in his left hand. Without thinking she brought the diminutive pistol up and pulled the trigger. The crack of the gun mingled with the peal of thunder. Smoke and flash caused her to close her eyes as the gun leapt in her hand discharging its solitary projectile. An instant later a gloved hand grasped her wrist and the derringer dropped from nerveless fingers. She opened her eyes and looked into his dark visage and breath froze.

He smiled and said "You are not the first woman to claim she missed me...."

And with that, Lynette Bowmars eyes fluttered and rolled up into her head and she fainted dead away.

When next she awoke she was inside. She could hear the rumble of thunder underlying the tinkling of an upright piano. The ceiling was bare boards lit by a single lantern. She could not move her hands and feet and something rough was wrapped around both. Her lace-up boots were missing, and her back and hair were damp. She must have been carried here through the downpour probably slung over the shoulder of her captor. She tried to scream for help but her mouth was filled with cloth bound in with another strip tied behind her head. She looked to either side and saw nothing but bare plastered walls. She lifted her head as far as it would go and saw she was alone in the room. She screamed into her gag and pulled at her restraints until she made the headboard rattle against the wall. After a few moments of this she stopped, momentarily winded, breathing deeply through her nose. She heard the door open. Part of her wanted to lift her head and see, the other part wanted to close her eyes tight and hope this was a nightmare. The second part was victorious and she squeezed her eyes shut so tight that tears welled up and slid down her cheeks.

She heard footsteps, the click-click of the hard heels and the gentle ring of roundel spurs. A gloved hand grasped her bare ankle above the ropes, and then slowly slid up her calf. She whimpered into her makeshift gag and tossed her head from side to side saying "no no no no!" in her mind. The slightly damp glove lingered on her shin, under her dress, moving around to cup her calf then slide up a few inches above her knee. Lynette reflexively kicked but the ropes held fast and she was rewarded with a sharp blossom of pain as they constricted around her ankle.

"Shhhhhhhhh" Buck whispered, "No reason to waste your breath on making noise. Even if someone did hear, who in this yellow-bellied excuse for a town is going to come help you? They all saw me carry you in like a sack of potatoes and not a one of them made a peep. Where I come from it isn't polite to shoot at visitors without at least a proper warning, so I reckon it's up to me to teach you some civilized behavior."

Lynette opened her eyes and lifted her head to look at him. He was dressed the same as this afternoon, save for missing his bandana. He had tear in the fabric of his left sleeve at bicep level. A touch of crimson was visible though the rent.

Buck pointed at the wound, "It's just a graze. That little pea shooter of yours does not pack too much of a punch, but still had you been over a foot to the right, we might not be having this conversation. You're about the prettiest little thing in this town, but I did not expect such a sweet little lamb to be packin' a pistol!

At this point he reached for the door, which he closed and bolted shut. He slowly kicked off his boots and undid a few buttons on his shirt. "I reckon it's gonna get a might hot in here real soon, and so we might as well get comfortable.

Buck slowly pulled his bowie knife; the blade nearly 9 inches long. He unbuckled his belt and slung it over the back of the chair so that his six-shooter was readily accessible. He walked to the head of the bed and said, "Now missy, I am going to tell you this just once. This here knife is powerful sharp. I am very skilled at its use. I can skin a deer slicker than snail snot, and I have scalped men without them hardly feeling it. Now I am not aiming to harm you with this, but if you start squirming around, well I can hardly be responsible for you slicing yourself on the blade can I? So if this knife gets near you, you better lay still as a sleeping baby, you understand? Nod for me."

Tears welling in her eyes, Lynette nodded yes.

Buck walked to the foot of the bed and in one sudden motion brought the knife down between her thighs, just inches from her womanhood. Unable to help herself, the teacher screamed into her gag. As she did, buck drew the knife towards himself cutting her gingham dress and white petticoat front and back, as well as dividing the quilt beneath her. He then used the blade to flick the sides back to reveal her pale legs and underclothing. He then bent down and touched the cold steel of his knife to her left thigh. He turned the blade so she could feel its sharp edge and slowly drew it over the surface of her sweet untouched skin. She was gasping for breath but at the same time trying not to move. A strange fluttering was all through her stomach. She must have hit her head when she fainted, for she felt terrified and giddy all at once.

He came up to stand beside her. He brought the big knife down, then, delicate as you please, began to prick at the buttons of her dress, starting with the one at her neck. Each subtle twitch cut the strands holding the button on and it flew into the air to clatter onto the wooden plank floor. Soon he had removed them all, and the used the knife to slice the remaining cloth to meet the rip in her skirt. He pulled the cloth aside revealing the camisole she wore over her corset He slid the knife under it and with a smooth motion split it in twain. He stood and admired her corset and the heaving of her chest as she sought to catch her breath. This corset laced in the front. A single woman with no servant could wear nothing else. The wicked blade went to work on the lacings, and each cut released the pressure on her ribs, allowing her to breathe deeper, but at the same time revealing her breasts and stomach to this dark rider. He used the knife blade to flip the corset panels back revealing the white mounds of her breasts. They were easily a handful for the stranger and the nipples were a pinkish tan and were standing at full attention atop each virginal mound.

"Mmmm mmm, those are about the finest things I have ever seen, and I have seen me a few." He said. Lynette was mortified but a part of her took the compliment the stranger had given her and felt a surge of unseemly pride.

He then took the blade and made a little slice in her undergarment. Lynette jumped as he threw the knife to stick into the wooden floor beside the bed. He took his gloved hands and pulled on either side of the cut ripping her under things asunder. Cool air rushed over her most private place. She had sweet curly brown hair that matched the long tresses on her head exactly. Her puffy nether lips rose from the mound of fur and glistened in the lamp light.

The dark man put a gloved hand on her rib cage running it down to her hip and then across her sweet slightly rounded belly. She sucked in her breath as if trying to pull away from her touch, but she knew it was a fruitless act. His hand roamed back up cupping her left breast, the thumb going up to swirl around the nipple, the rough touch of leather causing arcs of lightning to jolt from those swollen protrusions all the way to the place where her legs met.

"Now a fine girl like you, you might call these breasts, or even bosoms, though more rightly bosom should be singular. But tonight these are your tits, do you understand, and I am going to touch them lick them, maybe even bite them a bit if I get riled up, because I shore do like me some titties!" with this he reached across and tugged her right nipple. She felt it swell under his touch, engorging more than she ever imagined it could.

She found herself closing her eyes and arching her back. The voice telling her to make him stop was being drowned out by the one wishing he'd squeeze both her nipples at once!

"Now this part down here," he said putting his gloved hand on her pubic mound. "An educated woman like yourself would call this your Vagina. Today it is going to be your cunt. Sometimes I like pussy, or even twat, but this is going to be your cunt and I am going to do things a prim girl like yourself has never even imagined."

Lynette blushed, because he was wrong. She had imagined. From her earliest days listening to her father take her mother on their squeaky bed, to once seeing an older girl pushed against a wall, her skirts pulled high above her waist with her boyfriend ramming rhythmically against her she had imagined such things. Her dreams had always been filled with visions of flesh, and tingling between her legs. Sometimes she would wake up with her hands between her thighs, the fingers wet and sticky with her own juices. She'd pray for forgiveness, not fully understanding why but somehow knowing from what little she had been told anything having to do with "down there" was a sin. She knew boys looked at her firm round breasts. She even caught a few of her students staring longingly at them while she read to the class. She had heard whispers as she walked down the street, and all of them had been appreciative. She knew she should be mortified, but part of her WANTED this stranger's touch.

He pulled off one glove and ran his finger above the pubic hair. Then he ran it down her thigh then up and over and down the other. Lynette was squirming by this time, not sure if she was trying to keep that finger away from her center or draw it there. The choice of course belonged to the stranger. That finger made circles around her vagina, spiraling closer and closer to the moist pink nub of flesh that protruded there. Then without warning he touched it! Just a light brush, really, but fire flowed through her and she moaned into her gag.

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