Winds of Revenge (pt 2)

(Winds of Revenge, Part I was posted in late October, 2017)
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They still had my school ID card. Those East Side Prep high school girls had taken it a week before after abusing my face for well over an hour under the bleachers after our Westside High football team had ruined ESP’s perfect season.

Olivia had said I would get my card the following Friday, which was today, but as I neared the Shake Shack, I didn’t see any high school girls. Stupid me! Duped again. Not only an awkward and skinny 14 year old, but someone who trusted a snobby rich girl who had subjected me to ass-nasties.

I checked inside.

“You lookin’ for something?” asked a voice from behind.

She was about five feet tall with a puppet-like face, unflinching emerald eyes, and hair that was sand-colored, hay-thick, and cut to the line of her jaw.

“Uh…I was suppose to meet—”

She wiggled her finger and turned to walk away. Like some witless cyborg, I followed her to a covered area around back.

She wore a backpack that read “ESMS-7” with “Shani” monogramed beneath.

Wait.

Wait!

“ESMS-7”? Middle School? She was a junior high school girl? A seventh grader? What business did she have bossing me around?! I stopped. She scowled.

My chin dropped. I followed…

…because, last time (part one), I admitted it—I’m afraid of high school girls and now, after Shani’s scowl, I realized I..I’m…afraid…of…afraid of middle school girls, too. There. I said it.

I wouldn’t want you to think that I liked what those cheerleaders did to me a week ago. No way. I had succumbed to fear. Just like I wouldn’t want you to think that looking at Shani’s ass was because of how it jiggled and twitched. No! Okay, so her designer denim shorts fit perfectly but I only followed her because I was afraid.

But why? She was only five-feet tall; I was over six. She was a girl; I was a guy; She was 11; I was 14. Why would I kowtow to her? It was one thing to surrender to seven high school girls who had attacked me but this was just ONE middle school girl who had only talked.

If one citadel remained to host my damaged dignity it was the gratitude I felt from knowing that at least Shani wasn’t a grade school girl. Ellie had threatened that. Can you imagine how awful that would be—having little grade school girls sitting on your face?

Shani reached an isolated place at the back of the building and turned to me.

“Shani … listen—” I said.

“What?!?” she screeched. “How do you know my name?”

Damn, that backfired. Now she thought I was a pervert and a stalker!

“No. No. It’s…It’s on your…backpack.”

“Creep!” She flipped me the bird, right between my eyes. “So, you want it back…your card?”

“Y…Yes. Wh…Where is Olivia?”

“Playoff game. Out of town. Listen and listen carefully, buttface!”

Buttface? Dammit. Olivia must have told her. My face flushed.

Her face transformed into a menacing smile. “I don’t have your card.”

Agitation seized me.

“Wh—”

Her devilish smile widened. “And, neither does Olivia.”

“But—”

“Shut up!” Shani scoffed. “Olivia changed her mind. Lowbrenner has it.”

“Who?”

“Mr. Lowbrenner. Principal.”

Olivia had turned me in? I was in trouble? Why? I hadn’t done anything. They had attacked me. Seven high school girls! They sat all over my face! You didn’t see me pressing charges, did you?

“Four blocks. That way. East Side Prep office. Main entrance. Be there by 4:30.”

I turned to leave.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“To…To…Mr. Low—”

“Uh-uh!” the girl shook “no”. “Isn’t there’s something you should do?

“Uhhhh…”

“To thank me. Olivia told you.”

“N…No.” She hadn’t told me. Or maybe I had not listened. Or maybe Shani was just making things up. But really, did any of that matter?

She yanked on my collar. “Then, I’ll tell you!”

Her eyes studied mine and she slowly drawled three words:

“Kiss……my…..ass!”

She couldn’t be serious. Kiss…kiss her ass? Here? Now? Besides, how dare she talk to a high school boy that way!

“NOW!” she demanded and my legs buckled and for whatever reasons, I pushed my face into the very seat of her shorts and I kissed while she pressed her palms to the brick wall of the Shake Shack for support. I couldn’t believe it. I hated it! Kissing a girl’s ass—in public.

She eventually pushed my head away and laughed. “Most would have started with my butt cheeks, perv-boy.”

Most? How many times had she done this or was it routine for rich girls to get poor westsider boys to kiss their asses?

She pointed to her left hip pocket and said, “Start here.”

I kissed several times on her left, then her right butt check. She bent over significantly and pointed to that…deep place…the…the center and she demanded that I return my face to that very place but when I was beginning to kiss, she nearly shouted, “Not kissing! Smell it! Smell my ass! Do it now!”

It was humbling. I was on my knees at a fast food place and I had my nose in a middle school girl’s ass and I was…sniffing…sniffing her butt—for no other reason than she had commanded it.

After last week, I’d had it up to here (nose) with butt smells. But, she was in control so I…I…smelled her ass. She demanded more. I felt light-headed.

She looked down at me. “You haven’t really kissed my ass, have you?”

I was confused. I said I had. She said, “No way!”. She unfastened her shorts and with one motion, pulled them down along with her panties and stuck her bare, spread ass out.

“THIS is kissing my ass!” She pointed to her anus. “Kiss buttface!”

K…Kiss her. There? On her…bare…bare asshole? But, like everything before, arguing was pointless. Maybe she was only a seventh grader, but she held all of the power. I pushed my face into her cute—I mean very frightening—ass and I placed my lips directly on her sphincter and I held her slender hips and I kissed her ass hole. The only reason I can write about that now is because it wasn’t my idea. She forced me.

After nearly a minute, she laughed and pushed my head back and yanked her panties and shorts up and told me to walk my stinking face away from her.

– – – – – –

I was afraid passing through the ESP campus. Poor westsiders were not suppose to even be on that street. I supposed I made it safely because school had let out more than an hour before and not many people were around.

I entered the mammoth main entrance and found the principal’s office and was then led by a 50-something lady with glasses to a door marked “Adolf Lowbrenner – Principal”. She knocked. He called out. We entered. He had me sit across from his cherrywood desk while the woman left. My knees were vibrating.

He was a mousy man, short, with dark and balding hair, wire-rim glasses over beady eyes, and an occasional twitch at the corner of his mouth. He seemed perpetually nervous or perhaps insecure.

“Bryan, we have an issue here,” he began.

He was going to blame me for what happened last Friday?

He held up my school I.D. card. “You lost this last week. I’m sure you want it back.”

I felt my face brighten.

He swiveled his chair a bit and I watched with horror while he pushed my card into a shredder and I heard it slice my hopes into braids of despair.

“Now Bryan…about your indiscretions. Last week…you know what I’m talking about.”

“I…I…didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I’m afraid others think you did.”

“No. No! They attacked me. They sat on my face. They even farted on my—”

Lowbrenner burst into laughter. “Ah heh-heh, well pity you, I guess. But that’s your concern, not mine. That’s not what I’m talking about.”

If I could have become a fart myself and dissipated into the air, I would have.

“What I was referring to was you trespassing where poor boys like you don’t belong.”

There was silence. He squirmed.

“I have a situation here.” He tapped a pencil on his desk. “I…I don’t agree with any of this, but I have to do what I have to do, if I know what’s good for me.” He leaned forward. “Bryan, the reason I destroyed your I.D. card is because…” He fidgeted. “…is because…you are going to go to school here at East Side Prep.”

I was shocked.

“That’s…impossible! We’re poor. We can’t pay for no private school. Besides, I don’t fit here.”

“Doesn’t matter, Bryan. It’s already been arranged. Except, we need a parent’s signature which I am sure you will get.”

“No!” I protested. “You can’t make me do this!”

“Bryan!” he scowled. “This is about doing what the powers above me want. Let me say it to you this way: Rich families are very influential and those parents get what they want, one way or another. Your family won’t like some of their ways.”

“Parents? They don’t even know me,” I protested.

“Don’t have to. Their daughters do. Look, the rich parents rule this valley. Problem is, some of their daughters control them. So you see, it’s the girls who run this valley. So, if I don’t get this done, them I’m the one they’re coming after.”

He stood and walked to a window and rocked on his heels.

“So you see Bryan, as far as those girls go, it’s either you or me. And I can tell you that it absolutely, sure as hell, ain’t going to be me!”

It was inevitable. I knew it. I was born in the valley and knew it’s ways. The rich ruled and the poor stayed out of their way. My head shook slowly side-to-side and my chest sighed in defeat. Those damn rich girls got what they wanted even if they had to inflict hardship on poor families.

He said admission and scholarship papers would be sent over immediately and he expected me to get my parents to sign the forms. None of my family is very bright, except me of course, so I didn’t see a problem in getting the papers signed.

When the box from ESPHS arrived, it had the forms as promised and also clothing so I wouldn’t look so out of place, three class books, vouchers for lunches, and other items.

My parents were elated and signed right away. They were thrilled that, at long last, someone from our family might someday actually get to college! My cousins considered me a traitor. If only they knew the horrible sacrifice I was enduring for them.

– – – – –

My first day at ESP began with a summons to one of the counselors offices. Miss Marcoux looked to be in her early 20’s although I believed she was close to 30. She wore a very tight and short tan-and-white plaid skirt that became even shorter when she sat on her desk with her knees pointed at me. Overall, she had a French-like appearance with petite bones, a pretty face, little makeup, and black hair that was thick and didn’t reach her shoulders.

What kind of school was this? Who let this youngish bombshell wear a short, tight skirt and sit in front of a 14 year old boy—to counsel?

She explained that since the ESP curriculum was far ahead of Westside High School, I would take only half as many classes as others and only in the mornings. In the afternoons, I would be under Olivia’s direction.

Olivia? What? My body shivered.

“You may never catch up so you it may take you eight years to graduate.”

Eight years? I would die if I had to live under Olivia’s direction that long!

But wait! Maybe it might take me eight years, but Olivia and most of her cohorts were sophomores and they would be gone in three! So maybe these arrogant East Siders weren’t all as smart as they thought they were. I felt smug. In three years, I wouldn’t.

She stood and turned to her desk. I couldn’t help but notice her skirt…I mean…because it was stylish and all that. She handed me an excuse for missing first period classes and I made my way to second period. No one payed much attention to me, something I would experience through much of my time at ESP.

The two classes I attended that morning were far above anything we had studied at Westside High. At midday, I made my way to the lunchroom and used a voucher for food that was better than any food we ate at home. It didn’t bother me to sit alone. After all, I was the new kid. A couple of the low-enders spoke to me but they didn’t linger.

With the lunch hour 20 minutes from ending, my knees began shaking. I was to report to Olivia in a study room and I dreaded seeing her again. I walked slowly, praying for a national disaster to interrupt my fate.

When I got to the room, she was there with the other six girls who had attacked me that fateful Friday night. I had to admit that underneath too much makeup, Olivia had a pretty face. Jana wore little makeup but her cute face was betrayed by cold-steel eyes. Emo-like Ellie had changed to gold streaked hair and wore a denim skirt and she seemed as mentally-oblivious as before. Then, there was Carmen, the lean, olive-skinned freshman who was fresh and cute and didn’t fit among the nasty others.

Although ESP had a dress code, these were the rich girls; the ones who controlled the parents who controlled the valley. They wore whatever they damned pleased and, on this day, they wore non-uniform skirts that were shorter than permitted.

“Well, Mr. Buttface showed up after all!” Olivia snarled. With her friends gathered near, she reminded me that I was required to do whatever they said or, “There will be hell for you and people you like!”

She laughed and stuck her middle finger under my chin and demanded my agreement. I nodded. She added, “This is going to be the most-fun school year ever!”

The bell rang to announce the beginning of afternoon classes and Olivia told me to follow her and her troupe. My eyes argued with my libido about the merits, if any, of their round rear-ends.

We reached a classroom doorway. An older, male teacher was sitting at his desk. His head lifted as if to say something about the girls being late but his face frowned and held his words. The students were all girls. I would learn that all of my afternoon classes were with all girls.

Olivia led me to the far left side of the room and to an odd-looking desk. It looked like a carpenter had recently built a long, cushioned shelf under the desktop, only a few inches above the floor. It stretched from the back of the desk to the front and extended a few feet beyond. Altogether it was…how coincidental…it was…well…about…six feet in length.

Olivia elbowed me and pointed. She had to be kidding. She was…they were…sit on my face? In class? In front of a teacher? In front of other high school girls?

When she elbowed me harder, I contorted myself to fit and to lay face-up. Olivia looked with nodding triumph as her troupe of girls sat in other seats in the same row.

She lifted one leg over the chair. My demise was imminent. She stood straddling my head while Jana encouraged her. And like a week before, I was again looking up Olivia’s short skirt and just as I said before, that is not something you ever want to do…look up a high school girl’s skirt while she is straddling your face—not when you know she is going to just sit right down on it!

And, that’s what she did. She began to lower. I heard girlish laughter and squeals. It was like a slow-motion nightmare. Her butt got bigger and bigger as it descended and my world view diminished as her skirt blocked all outward vision. And then…I felt it! Her cushy rear-end nestled down onto my face and my nose went…well, you know where it went. And, she sat down just like she would have had she been at a normal desk.

If you’ve ever had a girl sit on your nose, then you know that you can’t breathe until she lets you. It is horrible and scary. That’s why I continue to warn readers that you really need to think twice before ever letting a high school girl sit on your face.

Her panties were soft yellow and thin. They felt good but knowing where my nose was didn’t. I knew it would smell like ass after she got off of me and how utterly humiliated I would feel.

The teacher asked the girls if he could finally get on to the day’s lesson. They laughed. He spent the remainder of the class mumbling into his lesson plan, perhaps to distract himself from what was going on. I wouldn’t have heard him anyway since I was even more distracted by a 15 year old girl rolling her ass on my nose.

She adjusted her position a few times before settling down and making firm contact with me and—

brrrrffffffffffffffrrrrrrrrrrrttttttt

(Sorry, another failed attempt at writing a fart sound.)

Olivia blew a longlasting and bassy fart right in my face! I thought it would never stop! I could feel the air and her body heat which swelled through her panties and spread all over my nose and cheeks. I heard loud, girlish laughter and a groan from the teacher.

The room went silent all at once and…she grunted while her sphincter produced a rumbling low sound while also a high-pitch; almost like it was playing a duet with itself which brought twice the laughter as before. Fifteen year old Olivia was farting right in my face, right in class, in a room filled with teenaged girls!

And just when I thought my sense of humiliation had peaked, she raised her right buttock and ripped another fart that was aimed at the other girls but filled my face. Since I was gasping for air and my nostrils were no longer closed from the weight of her body, my head filled with her foul smell and I felt ill.

I don’t know how much longer Olivia farted on me. I remember the rush of cool air as her ass separated from my stinking face and she stood. Unfortunately, Jana was quick to replace her and with a Ricola cough drop in her mouth and after her white panties nestled her cheeks down onto mine, she ripped a rasping fart right on my nose and I heard more laughter.

“Girls!” the teacher cried. “You need to settle down now!”

Jana jumped from my face and, since I was on the far-left row and the teacher’s desk was front and center, I could see her and Olivia charge to the teacher.

“Shut up! Just…shut up!” Olivia demanded, her face inches from his. “That is…” she paused. “…unless you want some of this!” She turned around and flipped up her skirt as she stuck her ass right up to him.

“No! No!” he pleaded as he backed his chair away. Then, in resignation, he added, “It’s okay. It’s okay,” and went back to blabbering to himself.

Jana returned and sat on me and within seconds, she ripped a hushing gasser…like air from a punctured tire. She flattened her sitting position and passed gas flush into my face. It was mostly less-audible poots and hisses which brought snickers but, thankfully, less laughter.

She stood and vanished from view only to be replaced by a thin, short, and sassy blond who I recognized from that fartful Friday night and now knew was named Caprice. She leaned down and said “Hi fartface!”, loud enough for even the teacher to hear. She flipped me double birds, showed a Ricola in her mouth, hoisted her snug miniskirt above her waist, and nestled her little butt down onto my nose. Her soft butt cheeks melded to my face cheeks, separated only by thin, rose-colored panties.

Less than 10 seconds later, her lightweight body was squirming which caused her ass to rock and roll all over my face. When she leaned far forward, I could see all of the way up to the back of her head. Her body seemed frozen in that lean-forward posture and I knew she was preparing. Yes, I knew. I had figured out that girls often freeze so they can concentrate on their pending release and many stay frozen after so they can fully appreciate their work.

Caprice let a long, resonating fart that covered my nose and drifted to my forehead. She laughed and her butt jiggled. Others laughed with her until I saw her right hand raise and the room become quiet, except for the mumbling teacher.

That stillness was shattered, destroyed, vanquished by a high-pitched squealer that sounded much like air being let out of a balloon pinched at the opening. It was such a queer sound that the other girls burst into laughter immediately, not able to wait to hear the whole thing. I heard it. Sometimes the pitch raised a little and sometimes it dipped but what remained consistent was laughter that filled the room.

The bell rang and she complained that she wasn’t done. Olivia told her she could continue farting in the next class which had another of those odd, custom-made desks. I spent the first 15 minutes of that class with Caprice finishing her nasty-ass job on my face.

The female teacher didn’t once intervene.

When Caprice finished, three others took their turns farting in my face. When the class ended, the only ones of Olivia’s seven who had not done it were Ellie and Carmen. I wasn’t concerned about them because the week before, Ellie had not had huge-gastric farts and Carmen was too sweet to do it again.

There was a 10 minute break before the final class of the day. I sat alone on a long bench in a secondary hallway with few people. I found myself wondering, was this how I would earn my prestigious high school diploma? Letting high school girls fart in my face? For three years? Just lay there and let them sit on me and fart, fart, fart? I wondered if my transcript for college would show “fartface” as one of my extracurricular accomplishments.

Just then, sassy Caprice rounded the corner and was hurriedly coming my way towing another girl with her. She was showing the new student her way around. I cast my gaze down so I wouldn’t have to make eye-contact.

When she was within a few feet, I heard her tell the other girl, “Watch this!” She came close to me, demanded I look up, turned around, flipped up her skirt, lifted her left leg, put her pantied bottom within inches of my face, and ripped such an extended raspberry that it blew the front of my hair. The other girl’s hand covered her face and her eyes blew wide open in fascination and shock. My senses recoiled in the stench that Caprice left behind.

The bell rang to announce the final class.

I wasn’t surprised when Ellie pulled up her denim skirt and sat on me. She was a great and very sensual facesitter. She didn’t have sinister farts and now that she was wearing leggings I knew my time under her would be easy. She wasn’t demonstrative. She sat as if oblivious to the fact that she was sitting on a face and not a chair. Her leggings muffled her airy eruptions so there wasn’t much to cause the others to laugh.

When she got off, I knew I was home free! Carmen was the only one of the seven who hadn’t done it but she didn’t fit with these other girls who farted so I wasn’t worried.

But then…why…why was I looking straight up and seeing her pretty face smiling down at me from within the frame of her lustrous and silky black hair? Her smile was that of a friendly and pleasant 14 year old. But, she hadn’t moved. What was happening?

With her exceptional and courtly grace, she began to lower herself to kneel next to the desk. Her gorgeous brown eyes were deep with kindness and beauty. Her mouth was flawless.

…until she stuck her tongue out at me. No, not to be rude, but rather to show that she…she…dammmm…Carmen had nearly finished a Ricola.

It couldn’t be! She wouldn’t. She just wasn’t like that!

Yet, I watched as her lean leg swung over the modified desk and I was looking straight up the tent of her dark skirt to see black panties. She was beginning to lower herself and, despite the fact that she was going to stick her butt in someone’s face, there was an elegance and grace to it. I felt her nestle down and my nose go up into the cleft between her butt cheeks. She had targeted perfectly and that convinced me that she would—

brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrfffffffffffffffffffffffffffft

It must have lasted a full 10 seconds! That slender, gorgeous, freshman betrayed every appearance of innocence. She wasn’t at all demure when it came to facefarting. She just plain gassed me right in the kisser with a fart that actually rattled my cheeks.

If you saw her on the street, you would never guess that this wholesome cheerleader was actually into farting in peoples’ faces.

She didn’t release as often as the others, but when she did, hers were thick and voluminous and sounded like a lawnmower at full throttle. She didn’t laugh, but each time she farted, her body rocked as she giggled.

Actually, it was interesting how she did it…how she readied herself by pushing down harder, holding still to gather herself, then leaning a little forward and ripping the most horrendous farts imaginable.

When she was done, she got off of me and stood and raised her hand and twiddled her fingers as if to say buh-bye.

The following days went much the same and in time there were other variations— sessions in cars, after games, at parties (called farties), girls not part of Olivia’s group, buttsniffing, Shani, kissing Ms. Marcoux’s ass, etc. There was talk of Ellie’s East Side Elementary girls but that hasn’t happened.

It didn’t take long for me to give up and do what I was told and just let them do it. Just lay still while one high school girl after another sat on my face and did her business.

The reason I’m writing this is to warn you. You may think you want high school girls to sit on your face, but you don’t know the power they have “back there” and how willing some of them are to release it without caring for you whatsoever. And, once they have you under their butts, you’re at their mercy!

So, the next time you are tempted in that way, send the girl to me and I will take your place and spare you the misery. I’ve adapted to it. I’m used to it. It’s the least I can do for my fellow man.

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