I love combing Lisette's hair in the quad. It's a thing we do every day after lunch. She lies on her back on one of the concrete tables, bends her knees, and lets them fall to the side, giving me a clear view of her beautiful forest of auburn curls. I do it nice and slow, using the soft brush and then the long-handled comb, then start over. No point to it really, she already brushes her hair every morning (actually, one of the other girls in her suite does it, it being easier

The radiator is fixed but it needs a new thermostat which won’t come in until tomorrow. That’s ok -- I want to stay in this town until I find out more about Sukie, the girl who is always naked. I wait until just before school is out before walking into town. I sit on the same bench, at the same time. Again, the school bus empties with middle-school kids. Again, some high school kids walk by. But no Sukie, nor any of her friends (I think). Half an hour goes by and still,

On this spring evening, around the dorms at Campbell - Frank College, the scent of newly risen flowers and fertile, moist earth mingled in the air with young voices from the open windows. From Pilgrim Hall, Rankin Hall, and the other dorms, students could be heard chatting, laughing, sometimes singing, music from CD’s playing here and there. Mid-terms over, finals a long way away, an easy, carefree season. In Pilgrim Hall, Room 207, Jeanette and Latosha, sociolo

“I’m not sure if what you ask is possible,” Principal Huo said. He was in his office, speaking to Mr. Qinghu, Instructor of Mathematics. “It’s only for the boy’s benefit,” Mr. Qinghu said. “The loss of concentration for the -- what --” “I believe the penumbra has been timed as averaging at two minutes, with an umbra of fifteen seconds.” “He can’t afford to be out of touch for that long, every class,” Mr. Qinghu said. “It doesn’t seem to present a problem in the other su

“Unnh! You’re putting too much grit into these -- things!” Patty says, her toes flexing against the rough concrete rail as she raises herself up. “It’s the same formula as always,” Freddy says. They’re talking softly so that the crowd around them, watching from behind the little fence, can’t hear. ​ “I feel like I’m -- shitting out -- unnhh! -- a porcupine.” ​​ “You exaggerate.” ​​ Patty exhales and lifts her butt off the top of the prong of

The nude prisoner, sound sleeper that she had come to be, was nonetheless awakened by the routine 6:15 a.m. clanking of the old-fashioned key. She blinked her eyes and turned on the rough wooden bench. It was the Assistant Warden, as always, with the guard for her wing. The guards at this women’s prison farm were all female, but the officials were male. “Good morning, Towelewska,” he said, in a heavily accented attempt at her native Polish. By habit and by protocol, the

Yesterday, as the autumn leaves (or what passes for autumn here in sunny SoCal) were beginning to fall and a green gecko leaf fell onto Lisette’s forest and I picked it out and turned to drop it on the ground, I saw her again. Grib. Debbie Grib. Walking straight ahead, hard bare feet thudding on the pavement, with her companion Heidi Grau behind her. It’s hard not to see Grib, inventor of the “hard nude” idea, with her shaved head, and her shaved armpits and shaved pussy.

The initial resistance of our military to the presence of Maik-lings has apparently eased. On my visit I found nothing but kind words. Quiet as they tend to be, these girls tend to win one over. Also winning is their striving for excellence in harsh conditions. Surely a naked girl cannot be comfortable spending most of the day in a chilly hanger in this high altitude, mending the uniforms of airmen. But with Qinyang, as with the others, there is no sign of distress, just

When I posted this chapter on the ASN Story Board (this would be about the year 2000) it freaked out some readers. Maybe I escalated things too quickly. ============================================================== February 4. ​ Today I was invited by Dean Jorgon to accompany him and Anthony Noyes to visit Miss Smithers. I met Noyes only recently in connection with this committee and already I don’t like him. He is overbearing and loud. Also, he doesn’t like it w

February 24 They know today Mom is going to do the Reading, so the kids don’t dilly-dally as they get dressed. Though Abigail unwisely tried to button her blouse herself, ending up short on top. Ethel, the collection envelope in her teeth, kneels down to redo it. It takes some time; there are twelve buttons. “You’ve got some syrup on your butt, Honey,” Mark says. She goes back to the kitchen to clean it off. It happened when Rebecca bumped into he

Not that he was unsupportive of Marikit’s church. These folks acted like they had met Kai-Kai many times and were paying a frequent courtesy call; maybe they visited during every Lab draining. And he helped the church out a lot by being the cook at their annual pancake breakfast, held on a Saturday. It was a huge fundraiser for them, since everyone knew what a good cook he was. Angela had gone last year -- held outdoors because it was a fine day -- and discovered why his panc

It was a little plastic statuette he had bought at some flea market. A sideways naked white woman with outrageously huge breasts hanging down in perfect half-globes ending in little red-painted nipples. Arms extended forward, wearing a mask and kick-ass high-heeled boots, long blond hair whipping over her, ending over her trim bare butt. Underneath, holding the naked lady up on top of the little pedestal, the Stars and Bars and the words, “NakedGirl: Pride of the South”.

These activities had no sexual component so they were easier to watch than the forced-orgasm exhibition the first time they were here. On that date the delegation had already endured watching Tami, suspended and stretched out with ropes, subjected to the matrons’ tongues, front and rear. They were glad to yield their seats to some arriving Americans and sit back here in the stands, where they discussed their options. They were about to leave when the matrons withdrew from

Once again, she initiated the conversation, with a courtesy. “Good morning, Mr. Zhu.” As she stood respectfully before me I noticed that one of her cold-stiffened nipples was marked with what looked like ketchup. With so many American visitors the crudities of the American diet here are an unavoidable presence. She also smelled vaguely of stale hamburger. “I just have a few more questions. . . Do you take out the garbage every day?” “Yes. Also I sweep the floors at nig

This was the one Maik-ling I was allowed to interview, which I did on three occasions, but only the last was of any length. On the first, she was stretched out on the ropes, but her attention was distracted in many directions. Through inventive use of chairs and platforms, she was being attended to by ten matrons: one on each nipple, one on her vulva, one behind spreading her buttocks to noodle into her anus, two on each foot (one sucking the big toe, the other on her other

Postscript The above, completed my last night in the Palace, is being sent by regular channels without the “Top Secret” designation, because failing to send some kind of report would arouse suspicion. What follows is added to the Top Secret version for reasons that will become evident. As noted, I was invited to share the reviewing stand with Her Highness atop the Palace Pavilion at the Review of the Soldiers. Of course I was not on the top stand, but one a little lower

Homer Winant wheeled himself into the Recreation Center atrium, the big, high-roofed arena that held all the center’s equipment, the weight machines, the gymnastics area, the pool, and the volleyball court, with an oval track running around everything. He liked to come here every once in a while, as he did now on this cloudy late winter evening, to see if everything was in order, the equipment in shape, the heat on. He wheeled with his hands, hating those mechanize

It was a little before four o’clock when Angela saw Kai-Kai again, in the Student Union lobby. She had been concerned about him but apparently all was well now, or at least not a crisis. He was leaning on his backpack, bracing himself with one foot flat against the rough brick wall behind him, chatting with Marikit and a very white-skinned woman who looked about 35. The woman was strange looking for this campus and Angela figured she must be a P-3 or a P-4 here for the week.

After a decent interval Mr. Alkaras resumed with the few questions he had left for Ms. Korov. He said, “Let’s close the record. Thanks to you all.” “It’s 7:25,” Mr. Schreiber said. “Kai-Kai, you need some time to recover from that.” The four assistants helped the boy get off the horse, slowly and stiffly. He stretched his arms and legs, then looked around at everyone. “I’m going to go to the library lounge and tell those --elders -- that the impreg will be here,” Kai-Kai’s

Angela, having some uncommitted time, was going to go to her dorm room for a bit but decided to walk along with Kai-Kai as they went down the hall. In the lobby was a tall, heavy-set black woman of about 45, carefully and elegantly dressed in well-arranged graying dredlocks, a coat covering a long print dress, and heels. She looked like she was going to church. She had a beautiful, large face and a wide, warm smile. The Sire said, “Good afternoon, Mrs. Hatwood.” Mrs. Hatwoo