Fairyfield Grange

by Jason Argo

 

part 10

 

Poppy returned to the dormitory much earlier than had been planned. Most of the others were in special detention and occupied in doing things in preparation for Open Day, but he'd been excused to attend a photo-session with Mr Hardwick, a thing approved of by the headmistress who had a ready market for the kind of photographs he took.

He was feeling active and restless, but he arrived to find the room occupied by the sole figure of Abigail seated at a table, and while knowing Abigail wasn't always the most pleasant company he nonetheless gravitated towards him.

Abigail leaned back in his chair tapping his teeth with the tip of a pencil whilst morosely staring into space. Poppy hovered solicitously, noting the swathes of note paper strewn across the tabletop.

"What do you want?" Abigail snapped, gathering his wits and glowering.

Poppy rolled from one foot to the other and tried a disarming expression.

"What are you doing?"

"Something for Miss Twist," the head-girl replied sourly, "It's a work schedule for everyone to follow on Open Day and it's not easy to work out, so don't come bothering me."

Poppy wandered away but couldn't keep still. He went to the door then returned and sat on his bed, then decided to take a bath. There was a rudimentary shower-room along the landing, but the plumbing had broken and was awaiting attention. Next door to it was a bathroom and lavvy together that seemed to be a remnant of the past. The bath stood on legs, and the taps were copper, while the lavatory cistern had a chain with a handle which had 'pull' written on it.

Sinking lazily into the tub he found comfort in the sweet aroma of rose-petal soap as the silky water lapped over him. When he swung a leg up and pointed his toes he couldn't help but admire the sight. His feet were girlish and pretty, with cute toes that would take polish and make men want to kiss and suck them. As lather spread across the surface to accumulate in pyramids of suds he reached forward to clutch the pink soap in his slender hands. It was hard to his touch. Hard and slippery, and when he stroked it against his chest he noticed how puffy and pouty his nipples were. Boys and men were likely to fight to kiss them when they put on a show like that. Dipping into the water he rubbed his flat tummy and the small gold ring that adorned his bellybutton and allowed his thoughts to drift.

Men had always given him lots of attention, and with childish conceit he'd basked in their flattery and learned how to pose around in ways that encouraged it.

That's why Mr Hardwick used him as a photo-model so often. He was a boy who knew instinctively how to position himself and how to compose appropriate expressions. He could portray a sleazy tart if required, or act the naughty lad with mischievous, heavy-lidded come hither eyes. Alternatively, he could take on the guise of a sunny-faced, innocent virgin, completely unaware of the sexuality oozing from him.

He enjoyed doing it. He enjoyed thinking about the hundreds of men who would look at those photographs and how they'd all drool over every aspect of his body - how they'd all do cummies while imagining doing things with him. Men loved sissies. They loved young, pretty sissies with cute cocks and delicate pink balls.

He paused. He'd got his hand on something hard, and it wasn't the soap this time.

Mr Hardwick always started off with him wearing a few clothes, but they never stayed on for long. He said men wanted to see cock, balls and bums, and he took the kind of pictures that showed plenty of them.

Towards the end of a session Hardwick would ask him to work up a boner, and usually the randy old geezer would offer to help him do it. That always meant there would be a hot time afterwards when the camera was put away, but he didn't mind that. Mellow middle-aged men like Hardwick could be quite passionate, and they were sort of grateful if a pretty boy allowed them a fuck.

Tonight had been different. Hardwick had been preoccupied for some reason and had done a gooey blast in his trousers halfway through. Then he'd said he didn't wish to do anything else.

Pig! That was fine for him, but Poppy had been primed for having a length up him, and it left him feeling as horny as anything...

It passed through his mind to please himself right there in the bath, but then decided he wasn't going to settle for something so bland. Stepping from the water he found himself using a towel that Aunt Beryl had given him and that stirred an unpleasant recall of cousin Harriet. Of all the people in the world she was the last he wished to be reminded of.

Harriet was a clever, strong minded girl, quicker in thought than he was, and although her arguments were often diffuse she could always baffle him and make them sound plausible. She also had the skill to twist his own words until he found himself saying something utterly at odds with what he first intended.

When small she'd revelled in being naughty, taking off her knickers and doing cartwheels in front of boys and doing handstands with her legs open so she could claim the pennies they balanced in her crack. But as she grew she became harder and more of a schemer.

When she discovered Poppy's mother was renting him out dressed as a girl, she'd volunteered to assist in dressing him, and sometimes she'd taken him out for walks whilst he was wearing a frock, emasculating and humiliating him by introducing him to everyone they met as her best girlfriend.

He'd had to lodge with Aunt Beryl whilst his mother was on trial for blackmailing someone, and during that time Harriet took absolute control of him. She said he was prettier than she was, which was probably true, but she made sure he was sorry for being so cute. She could beat him at wrestling and that gave her the confidence to smack his face and twist his arms and make him kneel in front of her.

One night she'd come to his room with one of her mother's dildo's strapped to her thighs, and although by that time he was well experienced with men it never occurred to him that a girl would wish to fuck him. But fuck him she did. In the space of a fortnight she'd fucked him in just about every position possible, shagging him as hard as any man had done and holding him down if he squealed.

Then she said she was becoming bored and she began talking about just watching while her schoolgirl friends took turns with him.

It had been a blessing to be brought to Fairyfield Grange before that could happen. He may have been quite without morals and a slut-toy for grown-ups, but the idea of being used as a whore by a load of kinky schoolgirls was something even he found abhorrent.

When he returned to the dormitory he brushed his hair, and fresh from the bath he swathed a towel across his bed and lay down to let his thoughts drift again. He enjoyed being a sissy-queer, and to be sent to a place full of sissy-boys who adored him was unbelievable good fortune. Shame there were none in the room at the moment.

Toying with his own nipples he imagined himself wearing a tiny pink bikini and laying on a sun-heated tropical beach far away. Around him sat a dozen teenage boys, all gorgeous and all wanting him. With their pants tenting out they would be vying for his attention and waiting for him to say who should kiss him, who should suck his tits and who should shag him first.

Rising up he walked to the mirror, allowed the towel to fall away and looked at himself. He knew he was cute and he liked to admire his delicate feminine beauty. His smooth skin and rounded face did give him a kind of girlish appearance, and his blue eyes and dark eyebrows reinforced the illusion. When he looked down at his hairless slender body, his abdomen, though firm and flat still revealed the lower swell of a boyish ribcage, and their was certain evidence of his real gender lower down. Yes, without clothes there was no doubt he was a boy, but the reflection didn't show the urges that he revelled in. He was beautiful, sexy and desirable, and he loved playing the role of a girl probably more than any other sissy in the school. He was becoming girlier every day and he loved all the attention that brought him - he especially loved all the cock that came with it.

He went to his locker and quickly put on the peignoir he had been allowed to keep after his weekend with Miss Hancock. It clung to him more like a gossamer cloud than a garment, and still emitted an intoxicating perfume. He slipped on a pair of skimpy panties too, then looked in the mirror again. Now he looked like he felt, feminine and frisky. The bath had given a rosy glow to his skin and his eyes sparkled, but it was a inner heat that now possessed him.

Settling once more on the bed he hugged his knees and again glanced at Abigail. At the far end of the room the head-girl was still poised over papers, silent unless groaning in exasperation on finding an error in his work.

Poppy pouted thoughtfully. He knew only too well of the gigantic prick Abigail had in his pants, and it could provide exactly the kind of attention a boy's arse needed if he was in a girly frame of mind and had just suffered a disappoint with Hardwick.

Hot for cock, he slipped from his bed and sissied down the room towards him. He smiled warmly the gentle drift of the short night-dress against his skin setting his senses aglow.

Abigail glared. "What do you want now?"

"Oh, I was just thinking that perhaps I could help you."

"Fat chance!" Abigail sneered, "You've got windmills in your head and you'll be nothing but a nuisance. Goodness only knows what you'll do when you leave this place."

Poppy remained oblivious of the harsh words. "Miss Hancock - your mum - she says I may go into a sultan's harem." He stared at the notes on the table. "I say, maybe I can surprise you. I know masses of stuff about lots of things actually."

In truth he didn't understand anything he saw nor did he really care tuppence for it anyway, he was merely intent on making Abigail aware of the pretty peignoir and the skimpy panties beneath it that barely covered his bottom.

An absent-minded movement caused the little fluttering negligee to swirl, and a pile of written notes were dragged from the tabletop to fall in a heap on the floor.

"Christ! - " Abigail shook his head in disbelief, " - I can't understand how you can be so clumsy."

Poppy quickly stooped down to gather the paper up. "Golly, sorry Abigail. I don't know what happened."

The head-girl swivelled his chair outwards and angrily grabbed one of Poppy's wrists.

"I don't know why you thought to annoy me but you're going to rue ever coming near this table, you faggot."

Poppy's young face paled. "W-what are you going to do?"

"Get over my knees." Abigail demanded.

"B-but Abigail, you're not allowed to spank me. Not on the bottom."

Abigail gave a forceful tug that dragged him halfway down across his lap.

"Don't tell me what I can or can't do."

Poppy at once submitted and lowered his body, and Abigail yanked up the negligee to find little powder-blue panties that were a girly-tease. Infuriated, his hand went down flat and sharp.

WHAP!

"Ahwoo! Abigail, don't, please!" twitted Poppy.

WHAP! again, and the young sissy's soft creamy bottom began to blush around the outline of his pants.

"How long have you been at Fairyfield?" demanded Abigail.

"Two - two terms."

"Long enough to know that over-the-knee punishment is always given on the bare bottom. Is that right?"

"Y-yes, Abigail."

"Are you sure? How is it given?"

"On the bare b-bottom, Abigail."

"Right! Which means what?"

"Er - I - don't know."

WHACK! Poppy's bum swerved wildly as Abigail's hand smacked down again. "It means you should take your pants down," - SMACK! - "that's what it means."

Hurriedly Poppy raised his hips and wriggled his pants beyond his buttocks.

WALLOP! "Ooch!" WHACK! "OWW!"

Poppy's bottom trembled under the smacking. His pretty bum bobbed up and down helplessly and he pressed his thighs together and rocked side to side as the bared flesh, and the tops of his legs further down started to pinken to a soft, even glow.

SMACK! Abigail struck him slightly harder, and told him what a good girl he was for taking it so well, but he had to be punished for being so clumsy. "Yes, b-but - OUCH! - my b-bottom's so sore - OWW!"

The senior sissy refused to relent and Poppy's rump suffered a stream of sharp, smarting blows, each stinging impact qualified by a succinct reprimand.

CRACK! "Naughty bottom for being so sissy-pretty." WHACK! Naughty bottom for being so saucy." SMACK! "Naughty bum for being a girly tease."

Poppy's quiet gasps of torment became very audible moans.

WALLOP! "Naughty cutie for showing it off." continued Abigail. SPLATT! Naughty girl for making men look." BLATT! "Naughty girl for letting men see it." TWAK! "Naughty queen for letting them fuck it."

Poor Poppy's tender bottom jerked, juddered and writhed again and again as its skin became hotter and turned a deeper red. Then he found himself being toppled from Abigail's lap to sprawl on the floor. He felt rather sorry for himself but was surprisingly undamaged. The punishment had been only a little more severe than a lovers spanking delivering just enough twang with each swat to make him wriggle. Just enough harshness to stir a boys blood and leave him panting. Just enough pain to make a sissy humble and obedient.

Gazing up he wondered what would follow and was just in time to see Abigail hooking his thumbs into his own panties and pushing them down. His eyes glowed as Abigail's fully erect cock leapt into view and bounced up and down, while his heavy cum-laden balls swung between his legs. The head-girl's huge cock was sticking straight up and displaying bulging veins on the underside of its shaft. It was bell-topped and big with the durability of an iron bar, and it was demanding attention.

Mesmerised by the monolith before him Poppy cooed in admiration. Confident and proud to know it was his own proximity that had caused it to rear up, his discomfort was instantly forgotten.

"Wow, what a chopper!"

"Christ Poppy, you say the same imbecile things every time."

Without rising from his knees Poppy crawled between his legs. He wanted to suck that sissy monster and swallow all its sissy cream. "But it IS a whopper Abigail. It goes all the way up your belly. It's a lovely meaty thing as big as the Eiffel tower. Even Hard-dick-Hardwick hasn't got one as big as yours."

He always believed it did no harm to stroke a sissy's ego as well as his stiff meat.

Abigail grabbed the back of his head and pulled him towards his crotch leaving Poppy in no doubt as to exactly what was expected of him. Wide eyed, heart fluttering his trembling fingers took hold of the straining flesh and began to slide his fingers up and down the handsome tower of flesh. Half covering and then uncovering the mushroom shaped tip he worked a sheath of foreskin up and down whilst simultaneously playing with the head-girls huge ball sack.

Slowly he turned his face upward and let his tongue flirt beneath the rim of the swollen head where he knew boys were most sensitive, then he licked up all the way to the gland at the tip.

"Umph!" He grunted. He was excited himself and couldn't resist stroking his own stiffening willy at the same time. He loved pleasing other boys, and he loved sucking dick.

Abigail's magnificent rammer was leaking and throbbing, and he eased a little of the tension by smearing the pre-cum onto Poppy's beautiful rosy cheeks. That encouraged the younger sissy to lean forward and take the whole fat, pink knob into his sweet mouth and begin to suck it and lick it in a circular motion.

Mmmm. Abigail's pre-goo tasted no different to anyone else's, but it was nice.

He sucked eagerly on Abigail's stiff cock, easing his lips down the vertical pole as far as he could without choking and then bringing them back to the knob.

Pushing down again he flattened his tongue and pushed the weighty meat against the roof of his mouth before drawing on it with his lips. In response the head-girl bucked his thighs and forced a massive length to the back of the sissy's mouth.

Mm! Poppy loved that! He swallowed hard and tried to take the point beyond the back of his throat. It wasn't easy and the size of it made him gag, but once he remembered to relax his muscles the big sausage went down smoothly. Then by breathing through his nose he was able to undulate his throat like a caterpillar as up and down, up and down went his sucking mouth on the head-sissies enormous doodle. Abigail began groaning, so he knew he was doing it right.

"Hold on!" Abigail suddenly said. "You've a nice talent harem-boy and I love fucking down inside your neck, but I don't want to shoot right away." He eased Poppy away and rose to his feet. Lifting the younger boy with him he then turned him about and bit softly into the back of his neck in the manner of a tomcat subduing its mate.

Poppy certainly meowed like a cat but his eyes shone in secret triumph, since he'd elicited exactly the kind of response he'd set out to achieve. When Abigail whirled him around again he was more than ready for the hot mouth that slushed against his own.

"Okay, you randy prick-teaser," Abigail husked, "I'm ready to play the kind of game you want. Get on the bed and wait for me - but get rid of that stupid nightie first."

 

Wendy entered the dormitory to view Abigail and Poppy engaged in a full-heated fuck. He had entered the room to hear the metal springs of a bed squeaking noisily and the sight of the head-girl working his hips back and forth, madly pumping his big cock in and out of Poppy's minuscule bottom with boundless energy.

It wasn't an uncommon sight to view in such places, but most other boys would have waited until later in the evening. Privacy was unknown in the dormitories and in his arrogance Abigail frequently never sought any. He leaned against the door and stood still for a moment, envy simmering inside like a volcano ready to erupt. With fists clutching the bedcovers Poppy was stretched on his belly beneath Abigail, legs splayed, a pillow stuffed under his thighs, while Abigail lay on top of him, straggling his buttocks. Fully dressed apart from a lack of underwear Abigail's skirt was hoisted up and his massive balls-bags were slapping onto Poppy's helpless girly bottom as his hips heaved and plunged his super-sized shaft easily in and out of the other boys sissy boy-pussy.

Muscles rigid, face taut and totally at the mercy of the head-girl's more mature sissy lust Poppy was squeaking like a girl and whimpering unintelligible noises through clenched teeth.. Abigail's slippery, turbulent penis was moving ever faster, disappearing and reappearing in rapid shunts as he tensed up to make a grand finish.

Somehow Wendy held in the anger of jealousy he felt inside.

"Er, sorry to intrude, Abigail, but Miss Twist wants to see you tout de suite, She wants to know how far you've got with the work you're doing for her."

He was aware Abigail was susceptible to interruptions and he should have delayed giving the message for a minute or two, but he deliberately decided not to do that. Intimacy with Abigail in the past had made him familiar with some of his peculiarities. He knew that a message requiring an immediate response could soak up his thoughts and possibly kill his ardour, and knowing that he took malicious delight in disturbing his cousin's smug complacency.

It was a horrible trick. A fiendish thing. But there weren't many other ways he could deal out vengeance for being ignored.

The squeak of the bedsprings subsided and then ceased.

"That's put me right off." Abigail fumed.

Detaching himself from Poppy he rolled away and reached for his pants. "I hate being rushed, so you're going to have to wait until I get back." he told the gasping pantyboy.

Even after witnessing Abigail enmeshed in such carnal intimacy with another Wendy longed to rekindle their relationship. He sat on the end of a bed further down the room, his mind crowded with confusion. He'd tried to hate Abigail, but could only think about being with him, how wonderful he was, the way his lips curved and turned up in a little crease that demanded to be kissed. He wanted to declare his affection, but knew it was pointless, so he remained silent as Abigail stormed away. No smile. Not even a sideways glance in his direction.

Amid the sudden silence he gazed at Poppy who remained on the bed further along. The sissy-princess was like an exquisite effigy with a wholesome tint in his cheeks, beautiful in his nakedness, fresh and radiant and filled with a vitality that was sensual. Quite the wrong person to be angry with, Poppy showed love that was fiery and frantic, but to him it was like a ship that passed in the night. Passion with Abigail had stirred in his breasts and made his nipples tighten, but the pure lines of his face were virgin-like and his eyes were innocent.

Wendy felt no bitterness toward him. He was forever sweet and friendly - little more than a mischievous child really, and he admired Poppy's unflappable tranquility and his ability to cocoon himself from the kind of emotions that tortured himself. How nice to have a nature like his. If he had disappointments or hard knocks he didn't seem to feel them much. He was always smiling and he never took any of his sexual partners seriously. Flighty he may be, but he was never fooled by the illusions of a relationship. His only consideration was to extract pleasure from a situation before it faded.

As he watched, Poppy rolled onto his back and pushed himself up on his elbows, quite unashamed of his nudity and unconcerned that his penis was noticeably tugid and moist. The boy's face turned and lolled in his direction.

"Wendeee, d'yu wanna toss me off?"

The sissy's voice carried a musical lilt and his playful eyes, his shameless smirk, his wondrous bare body, all tantalised. He was very pretty even if he had a cock the was rather small when compared with the tremendous thing Abigail carried between his legs.

Sulkily Wendy shook his head. "No, I don't."

"Wanna watch while I do it for myself?"

"No."

A few moments of silence followed, before Poppy bleated again.

"Wendeee, I'm feeling neglected. Come and sit with me."

Wendy wasn't fooled by the sissy's precious little girl voice. He knew Poppy well enough to know he wasn't being invited to a platonic get together. But then he thought, what the hell!

He rose up and went down the room to join him. Although Poppy's good looks gave him vanity they never made him unapproachable.

"Sorry I had to be a killjoy just now."

The other boy regarded him with an unconcerned smile. "You could have managed it better. You could have waited 'til Abigail had finished. He was really going strong and he only needed another minute. "I say, your folks live in Arabland, don't they?"

"They live in the Gulf States, I suppose they're Arab lands."

"Arabs have sultan's, don't they?"

"No, they have sheikhs."

"I bet sheikhs are like sultans. I bet they have great big harems of pretty sissy-boys."

Wendy sat down on the edge of the bed and stroked Poppy's flushed cheek with one hand while the other caressed his she-boy breasts, squeezing the nipples between his fingers until they grew firm. At once Poppy's lips parted as he looped his arms around his neck and drew him down. Showing not the least hint of guilt at betraying Abigail they shared a warm, lingering sissy-kiss.

Open-mouthed, jaws shunting in unison, their tongues stroked against each others teeth and gums before rolling together in a wet, sexy joust. Poppy's mouth tasted good, clean and pampered.

Nipples next, thought Wendy. Poppy was not quite flat-chested and he had a slight plumpness in the region of his nipples. Wendy pushed him down and pressed against him, kissing his neck, then his upper chest, then trailing kisses to his left nipple. It was delightfully puffy, slightly pink and extraordinarily beautiful, and the erect little teat had the texture of a pencil-eraser. When his mouth closed down on it and he sucked Poppy whimpered with pleasure.

There was no reason for it but sexual gratification, and perhaps for Wendy a small way of spiting Abigail. After feasting on both sissy nipples he rose up and kissed Poppy's forehead and his face, then took his lips in his mouth and kissed and bit them softly while his hands stroked up and down the boy's naked body, running his hands everywhere as if exploring the structure of muscles and bones beneath the skin. The flesh was warm, the texture of skin like satin, and the taste of him was of honey-soaked roses. No wonder Poppy was such a favourite with everyone, he was gorgeous. Eventually his hand ventured down onto Poppy's coltish thighs and encircled his penis and he teased him under his balls before touching the stiffened cock; a bone wrapped in silk around which his fingers curled neatly.

"You smell nice. Just like a flower. Like a whole bunch of flowers." he murmured in his ear.

The sissy kissed him ardently, this time taking his face in his hands and crushing his lips hard against his own, while his tongue traced inside his mouth to slither and probe.

When he drew back Poppy was breathing hard through his nose.

"Get your pants off Wendy. You can't have proper fun with your knickers on."

Wendy's pants did quickly come off, then they enjoyed another lengthy kiss whilst pumping the satiny soft skin on each others hot sissy joysticks. The bedstead shook and clanked as they rolled back and forth, mouths joined in voluptuous jousting, kissing biting and licking.

Wendy was rarely forceful or aggressive, but despite that it was Poppy who accepted the female role. It came naturally to him. He relished the fondling and nipple sucking of a partner and rarely objected when a boy on top wanted more.

A faint, rather coquettish smile flickered on his mouth and his eyelids fluttered. Marvellously warm and compliant, he coiled against Wendy and sighed salaciously.

"Poppy wants cock. He wants fucky-fucky !"

With his penis extended and already juicing Wendy was beyond refusing such a request.

"What about Abigail? Won't he be angry if he comes back and finds me doing you before he's finished himself?"

"Hm yes, he probably will be cross - so you'd better make it a quick one."

Wendy rolled from the bed and tucked the front of his skirt into his waistband. Poppy was already on his back, but he told him to swing round onto the edge of the bed and raise his knees. In such a position his sissy-hole was most vulnerable, and since it had been recently lubricated and used by Abigail they both knew it would offer no resistance. He took hold of Poppy's ankles and levered his legs up and back, almost over his shoulders, then with a sigh his slender form pressed against the inviting open bottom. Bare buttocks pressed onto his thighs, and bowing slightly he was able to look down and see the shaft of his engorged twelve-year-old cock disappearing into the already well buggered rectum of the most used she-boy in the school.

He watched as it melted into him. Felt the glorious sensation as it delved into hot, cloying confines, and sighed in wonder as a warm enveloping softness of sissy-boy flesh surrounded it. Once his erection had penetrated beyond the anal ring it found only a squishy, silky soft resistance and he entered in like so many had done before, feeling raw pleasure as his body responded in the most lascivious and shocking way. Poppy's muscles sucked him in and their young bodies locked, spasmed, merged.

After several moments of screwing deep Wendy pulled back until only the head of his cock remained inside the boy, then he eased forward again, repeating the strokes and building momentum, pressing down and banging in and out with as much energy as he could muster.

"Umm, that's it, that's nice - do me Wendy! Hump me - hump me hard!"

Poppy's calves were on Wendy's shoulders, giving him full access to the depths of his bowels, and Wendy was soon plunging deep with every stroke. The subservient she-boys backside strained to meet each thrust, and whimpers of pleasure escaped his lips as his young sissy lover increased the speed of his lunging.

The bedsprings groaned too, and glassy-eyed Poppy began panting. "That's it!

Go on, go on. Do it - do me! Ooh, aah! Yes, do me - shag me." His anus twitched and flexed around the hot shaft inside him, trying to milk the strength out of it, and in reply Wendy pushed with his thighs, squirming his pelvis to force his youthful rammer in to its root. "Crikey, you're awfully randy."

"Yeah," Poppy agreed with a shaky laugh, "I'm a real hot cow tonight. Oh, do hurry up and put some spunk in me."

"'ELLO, 'ELLO! WHAT'S GOING ON 'ERE THEN?" said a jovial voice in the pantomime clich‚ of an old time policeman at the end of the room.

"Omigosh!" The voice was so unexpected that Wendy felt a shock to his backbone and both he and Poppy shuddered and keeled over sideways, disengaging as they did so.

There was a noise at the door and light footsteps came up the aisle between the beds. Wendy tried not to turn his head, but couldn't help it. He had to look. He half expected to see Abigail looking ruffled and grumpy at the sight of him indulging with Poppy before he'd done pleasing himself, and he felt an odd kind of relief to find it was Nanette.

Although Nan had taken his place as prefect there was never any acrimony between them, and although he was far more assertive than he himself could ever be he treated him almost as an equal, and invariably gave him the respect due to a senior pupil. They'd been intimate with each other a few times and he was only ever dominant when he had a right to be - when he was on top and ramming hard.

Nan took everything in at a glance; the bare flesh, the dishevelled expressions, the stiff, twitching erections, and he offered an apologetic look.

"You look like you were having a good time. Sorry to break it up, I didn't mean to startle you."

"We thought you were Abigail," Wendy told him, "He's only half done using Poppy, and you know how fussy he is about things." Nan gave a throaty laugh. "Abby's with Miss Twist, and he'll probably be a while yet. I didn't think you'd be so twitchy about him since you know him better than anyone else -'cept of course you've not been in much favour for a while, have you?"

Wendy ignored the personal reference. "Poppy's real hot-stuff tonight." Nan nodded. "Poppy's always good pussy. He's beautiful. Dresses like real girl, fucks like a bunny and sucks cock like a vacuum-cleaner." His eyes widened, "Christ, neither of you have had cummies yet have you? We'll have to put that right."

He sat on the bed, took hold of Poppy penis and cupped his balls.

"You're quite shameless, aren't you, Poppy?"

The younger boy blushed. "Suppose so."

"You definitely are," affirmed Nan, offering a wink to Wendy, "Poppy may be the most effeminate sissy-freak in the school, but he still enjoys having his plums played with."

Masturbating the little angel with a casual slide of his hand, he added, "Will you marry me one day, Poppy?"

The younger sissy grinned, broadening his face into cherubic roundness.

"Might do if Miss Hancock can't find me a sultan."

"You'll be a picture walking down the aisle with flowers in your hair, and I'll insist your wedding-dress is white lace and satin, you'll like that - though I think your skirt will have to be very short - you've such delectable legs and thighs and you'll want to show them off, won't you?"

Poppy giggled at the outrageous idea.

"He's a little minx," Nan remarked to Wendy, "Abigail will probably smack him when he returns."

Poppy face became animated and he pouted defensively. "He didn't say not to do anything else while he was away."

"Well, if you were my date I wouldn't expect you to go shagging with other people if I just popped out the room. Trouble is you're such a wanton little gay-thing, and you can't resist an opportunity when it comes along. You enjoy being shagged, don't you?"

Poppy lowered his eyelids and smiled back at him. "Yes, Nan."

"You like to feel a length inside you, eh!"

"Yes, Nan."

"And you love to have someone jack-off in your arse, don't you?"

"I don't mind."

"I know you don't mind, and if I feel like trying you myself when Wendy's finished, you won't object, will you?"

"I suppose not."

Like a butterfly flitting from blossom to blossom, and without a pang of guilt about playing fast and loose with Wendy, he slipped his hands onto Nan's shoulders and kissed him on the mouth. Well, he reasoned, Nanette was a prefect now and there was nothing to be gained by upsetting him.

Unexpectedly Nan eased him away, grabbed his arm and twisted. "Turn over.

Let me have a look at your girly poop-chute."

He pushed Poppy onto his belly and his fingers clawed the young sissy's perfect, tender cheeks wide, and summarily splayed and thoroughly ravaged, the dilated, pink depths of Poppy's anus opened up for the older boys inspection..

Poppy peered over his shoulder and spluttered as Nan dipped in with a finger and pushed it beyond his sphincter.

"Ow, yeow! Nan, oh, oh!"

Nan thought the pulpy rosette to be nicely taut, yet when Poppy twisted and bucked and contracted his pucker it felt satiny soft. When he turned his finger like a key in a lock it felt slightly wet and squishy. "He's nice in there. Soft, greased and kind of gushy. I reckon he's already been well used."

"More to do with Abigail then me." Wendy said.

Poppy squeaked as a second inquiring finger joined the first in stroking inside his hot, slick sissy pussy. "Ah yes, we can always count on Abigail to stretch 'em nicely, and I think this one can take quite a lot. Concentrate Poppy. Three fingers going in."

The younger sissy scrunched his mouth full and pouty. "Hey, steady on!"

But soon three of Nan's fingers were inside him, churning about like a corkscrew and stretching his sphincter wide. Wendy found it hard to focus. Mesmerised by what was happening he could think of nothing else to do but rub his very stiff penis and incite glops of precum to ooze out from its tip.

Nan must have given a devilish shove at that moment, because Poppy let out a moan, then Nan said, "Right! Good girl, you open up beautifully. Better slot you back onto Wendy's stalk now so he can fill you with spermies."

He indicated for Wendy to lay on his back across the bed, then told Poppy to face him and straggle his thighs. When that was done to his satisfaction he immediately took hold of Wendy's cock and stroked it earnestly, making it bounce and extend even further than it already was. Shepherding its tip into the well-oiled eye of Poppy's angelic back passage he crammed the young sissy down on it.

"Ooh!" Poppy grimaced as he was spiked like an apple on a stick, but then at once he began moving rhythmically, riding up and down on the length of randy muscle and taking it from top to bottom.

"That's the way. " encouraged Nan. "Go right down on it. Fuck the juice out of it. You're well oiled and it slides in easily. I bet you could manage ten inches before it starts hurting."

When Poppy began flexing his anus right and left in a way he'd learnt long ago, Nan drew back. Inspired by the view of a handsome young cock ploughing a young boys ring he lowered his own pants and started to jerk his cock. It was no competition to Abigail's great stonker, but it gave fine enough service.

Moving forward once more, and oblivious to the occupation of Poppy's anus he forced a finger in beside Wendy's penis.

"Oh, ooow - Hey Nan, what're doing?" Poppy squeaked. His legs shook when a second and third finger forcefully joined the first. "Ho, aaah - aah - ooohrrroooo!"

"You're a bit on the tight side, but it will have to do." Nan told him. He extracted his hand, then oiled his own cock copiously and climbed up behind, placing the tip of it where his fingers had explored.

"Ungh!" Poppy grunted as the head of Nan's penis forcefully wheedled in to try and join Wendy's unflinching erection. "Eeee! No - fuckin'ell Nan. Not two at once. You mustn't - I can't - it's impossible ..."

"Yes you can. It's tight, but I reckon you're more capable than you think." the older boy assured him as he pushed, slowly squeezing and stretching him to the absolute limit.

"Ooooh, aaah!" Poppy protested as an electric thrill of panic surged through him. His backside was pinned in place and was being made to accept all thrusts. It was painful.

"Oh Nan, this really is too much - I can't manage two at the same time.

You'll split me, you really will. Why can't you each take turns with me?"

Nan ignored him. The novelty of the situation fascinated him, and he concentrated on heaving forward. Slithering up just a little at a time it took what seemed ages to establish the second penis inside the frantic sissy-boy, but by being careful both Nan and Wendy were eventually cock on cock inside his tight confines, and able to fuck him together. In unison they pulled back and thrust forward with awkward jerks while Poppy's anus squeezing their dicks together in a single tube of flesh.

Wendy lay almost helpless on the bottom of the little stack. He wasn't uncomfortable though, and the sensation of Nan's testicles gently nudging against his own was rather erotic, but he did feel astonishment at having Nan's stout, muscular cock slide alongside his shunting erection. That was weird!.

It was more than weird to Poppy. Face as red as a radish he gasped in disbelief and his eyes misted over. Never before had this happened to him. Even when he'd been gang-banged in the past men had only ever fucked him one at a time. Having two pricks stuffing his sissy-pussy together was a strange sensation, it was unique and probably kinky, and it was quite painful too. He only endured it because he was curious.

His mouth gaped with an expression of fearful joy. Two dick's together! Wow, what wickedness! What would it feel like if they did a squirt at the same moment? Two randy stiffies both spewing cock-cream into his tight little rectum together!

For a few moments he allowed his senses to whirl in the sheer eroticism of what was happening, but then the discomfort became unbearable and he threw himself sideways.

Nan winced as his connection suddenly ended.

"You shitty girly-git! You nearly snapped my prick off!"

 

Abigail's mouth curved down in dissatisfaction as he made his way back to the dormitory. His effort to devise a task-rota for Open Day had aroused cold cynicism in Miss Twist.

"Not good enough," she'd said ( He never liked people saying that to him). "You're showing Zoe upstairs on one schedule while on another he's already being employed elsewhere. And you've put Alice in a classroom when he should be in the gym."

"Pull up your socks" she'd said ( He wasn't wearing socks, he thought churlishly). "Straighten your seams." ( His stockings were seamless, he sulked).

"I'd expected better of you Abigail, but your heads obviously too full of girly thoughts at the moment. Go somewhere quiet and milk your doodle, then have another look at things."

He'd have liked Miss Twist to milk his doodle for him. He'd been girlified for a long time and never had sex with a female, but he knew he'd enjoy being handled by good looking women with strong, knowing hands and a firm grip. Emma Twist had all the qualities needed. She could pull out cream from a house-brick, he just knew she could. She'd make him cum a blizzard. But she'd no intention of entertaining such an idea. She went no further than patting his bottom up under his skirt.

Wendy and Nan gazed at him with slightly guilty expressions when he entered the room. They were both poised over Poppy's naked body with their skirts tucked up and their undraped cocks rearing obscenely, but although they respected his status and his temper and they'd clearly been indulging in something raunchy, they didn't hold him in the same kind of awe as the juniors did.

"Just passing the time," explained Nan with an amiable shrug. "Poppy's a bit of a tease without his pants."

Scrambling to the edge of the bed, Poppy alone showed some agitation. "It wasn't my idea. They made me do it."

With surprising calm Abigail sat down on the mattress opposite. "You're a airhead Poppy, and you're a fast hussy with the morals of a cat." he replied testily.

Glancing at the notes in his hand he morbidly considered the revision he still had to do.

"Since you're so concerned for Wendy and Nan you'd best calm them down properly before you and I start with you again."

Poppy glanced sideways as Nan quickly moved towards him in a way that was overtly predatory, the front of his gymslip draped across the stem of his unrelenting erection.

"Yes, come on Poppy," Nan urged, swinging distended flesh in front of his face, "You've got two hands. That's one for Wendy and one for me."

Doe-eyed, the young sissy watched thoughtfully as Wendy took up a position the other side of him. "Well all right, as long as Abigail says it's okay."

Reaching out he took a cock in each hand and began masturbating them fiercely, first jigging Nan's, then giving Wendy's some energetic attention. When both had achieved optimum rigidity and were swollen and tense he rubbed them simultaneously with uniform pushes and jerks, then after a moment lapped the slavering tip of Nan's penis before taking it into his mouth and massaging the firm length with his lips.

As Nan sighed in wonder Poppy's mouth changed direction to give Wendy's cock the same treatment, and oddly he made the same "Oooommmm!" noise as his client as his mouth dragged and pushed at his foreskin. He loved pleasing two cocks at the same time. Both Nan and Wendy soon began to puff with heightened excitement, but it was Nan who changed the rhythm.

"Let me finish myself off," he wheezed, while peeling Poppy's fingers away, "Let me toss off into your face."

Perhaps there was no other sissy in the school that would have accepted such a suggestion so stoically. Still jerking Wendy with one hand Poppy half closed his hot, dreamy eyes and turned his face towards the broad tip of Nan's cock that was by then nearly brushing his cheek.

"Naaah!" Nan gasped, pounding his length with his hand as his pelvis swung up in the effort to rid himself rapidly of a burden that was utterly delicious.

Poppy's eyes closed as a large glob of thick cream shot out from the boys flaring meatus and splattered the side of his nose, while an attached opalescent strand sagged down to drape the corner of his mouth. He blinked, but before he could come to terms with what had happened a second blast of ejaculate struck his cheek.

"Wow, that was a good one, Nan." he smiled in admiration, while being faintly aware that Wendy too was now breathing heavily.

Wendy hated making an exhibition of himself in front of Abigail, but the sight of young Poppy's pure features being so erotically besmirched overpowered his reserve. With his cock on overload and with his own hand, he began pumping himself furiously, his fist moving rapidly while his mouth hung slack in self-inflicted rapture.

Poppy risked a peep at the increasing wetness of the pounding meat. "Get in a bit closer or you'll miss my face." he whispered. Wendy's loins shuddered, and again Poppy felt hot, wet spurts hitting his face. One, two, three! Semen hosed against his cheek in viscous, diagonal jets, and in quantity enough to ensure turgid white rivulets trickled down to his jaw-line.

Seated on the adjacent bed Abigail watched the event unfold with a po-faced expression, stimulated by the sight, but strangely not enjoying it. When Nan and Wendy had finished he rose up and glared at Poppy. "Your face is snotty and disgusting. It puts me right off wanting to shag you."

Poppy blinked hard. "Oh, well - I can wash it off."

"Don't bother," Abigail replied, "Just kneel down on the floor." As Poppy sank obediently to his knees Abigail grasped his hair and rolled his head back.

"Open your mouth."

The younger boy acquiesced without a murmur, face tilted up, mouth agape like a fledgling bird who's mother was feeding it, ready to be the receptacle for whatever Abigail produced.

Crouching astride Poppy's upturned face, and oblivious to those watching, the head-girl's hand heaved and pounded his own substantial length, rolling the foreskin back and forth with immense enthusiasm. His breath became hoarse and quick as he joggled his flesh rapidly until it throbbed and jerked. Stooping slightly lower he bent it downwards and aimed the drizzling tip at the boys open mouth before pumping furiously.

"Oooowww! There!" he gasped. His back arched and his pelvis jerked vigorously as he ejaculated, his first blast going off at a tangent to skim Poppy's top lip and shoot up his left nostril. The remainder, lacking the same power, became concentrated in massive, syrupy glops that oozed from the eye of the penis and fell directly into the boys waiting mouth. With his teeth coated and his tongue swamped, Poppy didn't move. If there was more to follow he'd be expected to receive that too. However, Abigail's orgasm had been intense, but abrupt, and only a slender mucus-like strand dangled, threatening to detach itself, but stubbornly clinging on until, uninvited, Poppy's pink tongue snaked out to gather it in.

"Don't swallow yet," Abigail gasped as he frantically worked out the remnants of his pleasure, "You haven't swallowed, have you?"

Endeavouring to breath through one nostril Poppy pressed his smeary lips together and gave his head a little shake.

"Go and show Nan and Wendy what you have in your mouth." Poppy clambered to his feet and opened his mouth to display the great flood of semen he nursed. Nan and Wendy peered at it in curiosity, then Wendy waved him away in disgust.

"Okay, you can swallow now." Abigail told him. "Shame the fun as to end, but I've work to do."

Poppy pressed his lips with his fingers as Abigail's cum slid down his throat, and everyone else readjusted their underwear. Feeling disappointment, he made a show of his own erection. "What about me, Abigail? No one's creamed me yet."

Abigail raised an eyebrow and acknowledged his sissy-rousal distress.

"Anyone want to do a favour for Poppy?"

Wendy looked away in a display of disinterest, reckoning he'd already put on too much of a show in front of the head-girl for one night. Nan gave a crooked smile. "Nah, I've things to do in the other dorm's."

Abigail gave a dismal shrug. "It's a shame Poppy, but no one wants to help you out. You'll have to go somewhere and pull on yourself." A sulky expression of disappointment had hardly registered on Poppy's face before the head-girl added. "And for goodness sake go and wash your grotty face before you make me sick."

Poppy had no need to despair entirely. He didn't have to settle for morosely satisfying himself. Five minutes later, coming out from the washroom with his penis still thrusting like a pikestaff and wagging about in front of him, he almost collided with Gloria, who must have thought the god's had sent her a gift for her hand that night. She at once found a chair and sat him on her lap, and with a stubby, thick finger sliding around in his sissy-anus and her skilful hand wrapped around his distended member she made him expend noisily, joyfully and generously.

Feeling like an orange that had been squeezed dry, he let his dreamy-eyed face sag against her great bosom while the woman herself gazed down like a pleasantly surprised connoisseur at the flood of creaminess that basted her fingers.

"Yer little madam! What on earth was you 'olding on to all that for? Was yer savin' it up for Christmas?"

 

That evening found Miriam at the desk in her parlour-office elegantly dressed in a severe high-necked white blouse and black knee-length skirt - ' the headmistress uniform' Jennifer called it. She passed the time reading correspondence that had been ignored earlier, her absorption so complete she was only dimly aware when the clock on the mantle chimed eight, and only checked the time when Gloria poked her head around the door.

"Lady Chance-Barton is here, Miss Hancock."

Miriam pushed her chair back and placed her feet squarely together on the carpet.

"Ask her to come in."

Diana, Lady Chance-Barton entered trying to make a show of indifference rather than reluctance, but the Macintosh she wore buttoned to the neck looked extremely incongruous when considering the hot weather and did much to diminish her haughty swagger. A bitter smile slid across her pale face making her look gaunt in the failing light of evening. "You wanted to see me." she said coldly.

Her antipathy was thinly veiled. She stared hard, waiting expectantly, and there was a look of belligerence in her face.

Miriam frowned. "I rather think it was you who wanted to see me."

"I was ambivalent about coming, but we must reach an understanding about those vile photographs you have."

The headmistress observed her without smiling. Even in surrender Diana Chance-Barton played the role of the aristocrat to the hilt, heaping on condescension until it was nauseating. That wouldn't do! The surrender had to be complete or there was no satisfaction.

She went forward to confront her.

"The evening is far too humid for you to wear such a big coat, Diana. Allow me to help remove it."

Lady Diana was medium height and thin, elegantly thin. It wasn't so much her figure that was striking, though her legs were spectacular, it was the upward tilt of her chin that marked her out as different. Her birth had been privileged, her education thorough and her upbringing pampered. None of that was a crime in itself, but unfortunately it had made this lady in particular unpleasantly arrogant.

The woman's haughty face flushed slightly as the headmistress unbuttoned the Macintosh without awaiting consent and peeled it back from her shoulders.

The high-society Mistress of Chance Hall was revealed in a dark knee-length skirt, a plain white blouse with a turndown collar, and a neatly knotted necktie of red and white stripes. Standing her beneath the ceiling lamp where the light was brighter, Miriam studied the woman's complexion with critical acidity. Her ladyship was an icon of the social set, but she was no Lolita and her beauty was of the kind that only looked its best in daylight. But at least tonight she'd steeled herself to put aside haute monde and make an effort with schoolgirl clothes, and in fit of over-enthusiasm to project the demanded image she'd even opted to forsake wearing a bra. Her breasts were too impressive to retreat into insignificance and every movement she made was marked by a noticeable judder of bulging flesh beneath the fabric of the blouse.

Diana's face glowed with embarrassment and she was clearly feeling overwrought.

"Insisting I dress in this ridiculous fashion to visit you is intolerable." she snapped bitterly. "Perhaps now you've succeeded in humiliating me you're prepared to discuss things with a reasonable attitude. Those wretched faked-up photographs you constantly threaten me with are ..."

"SILENCE!"

"W-what?" The visitor's mouth dropped. She was astounded. People just didn't talk to the Lady of Chance Hall in such a sharp way.

Miriam Hancock's stare was glacial. "Don't make it hard for yourself, Diana.

Act the schoolgirl part properly or we'll discuss nothing."

Why, the impertinent and conceited bitch, Lady Diana thought. She'd been trying to bring the plebeian witch under her influence ever since she'd taken up residence at Fairyfield Grange, and it was infuriating to find the woman gained the upper hand at every turn. She'd misjudged her. She'd thought her dull and insipid when she was actually as sharp as a whip. "Look here - Miriam, I ..."

"Stand up straight girl. Put your feet together and stop flapping your hands."

"I-I'm not used to ..."

"Not used to being told what to do? No, you're twenty-nine years old and still a spoilt brat, but that will have to change."

"Miriam, please ..."

"You must address me as, headmistress." Miriam told her somewhat pompously.

"Really Miss Hancock, I can do without all this silliness."

Miriam flashed her teeth amid a frosty expression. "Then there's nothing more to say. Let yourself out. The photographs will be in the post tomorrow."

Diana Chance-Barton had not thought beyond trying to assert herself, and now that had failed she was at a loss for what to do next. "No, wait. Don't do that." Suddenly her self-assurance had gone. Her face became pink and her hands fumbled at her side, just like a nervous schoolgirl. "I-I want to stay. Please allow me to stay - headmistress."

Miriam crossed her arms over her chest and savoured the moment. Gloated?

Yes, she enjoyed a little gloat.

"I dare say you attended a good public school when a child, Diana. Cheltenham Ladies College, and Roedean before that at a guess. You probably became head-girl."

Diana stared at her shoes. "I was only head-of-house."

"Even so, you enjoyed a position of authority that enabled you to discipline younger girls, and I suspect you relished the power you had over them. Did you punish them often? Did you mock them? Did you strap their hands, twist their little tits, pinch their nipples? Did you make them cry, and did you enjoy doing it?"

Lady Chance-Barton shuffled uncomfortably. "One had to maintain the rules. I was entrusted to do it. A certain amount of correction was necessary if a girl was awarded a black mark."

Miriam went to her desk, and when she turned a short black leather strap trailed from her hand. "The fright you gave poor Mr Hardwick as earned you a black mark and I'll not even mention the considerable bother you've caused myself. Now it's time to pay the price."

Diana stared at the strap in astonishment and horror. "Miss Hancock - headmistress, I ..."

"Let me finish," Miriam's voice was chill, "Arrogance as made you an unpleasant child. That's unacceptable, and I don't tolerate unacceptable behaviour from individuals under my jurastriction." She tapped the end of the strap in her palm. "Hold out your hand."

Lady Diana blinked in disbelief. "Oh god! No. You can't ..." But then in a mechanical fashion she extended her arm and flattened her fingers.

Still Miriam made no obvious show of her triumph, instead she reached forward to coolly check the other woman's arm was level with her shoulder and align the hand, ensuring it was open with fingers pulled together. Then her voice assumed the magisterial tone appropriate for an irate schoolmistress.

"You're wearing paint on your fingernails, Diana. I don't allow that when girls are in uniform. In future you'll remove it before you come to see me."

"In future!" The horror on the face of Lady Chance-Barton increased. "But I thought that - I'm sure we shared an understanding - what I mean is ..."

Miriam stepped back and swiftly judged the distance. The strap was raised, then it whooshed down to strike squarely across the fingers of the outstretched hand.

CRACK! The leather struck keenly and Diana's whole body buckled. "Ooow!"

"You'll attend here whenever I tell you. Only obedience will ensure the safety of the photographs. Do you understand?".

"Yes, y-yes, headmistress." replied Diana, wincing with pain.

"Good! Now the other hand. Get it up. Hold it level."

"Oh, oh please ..."

SMACK!" "Ooooh!" The shoulders of the 'schoolgirl' sagged and she wrung her hands together frantically, not knowing how best how to ease the sting in either.

"So far, so good," said Miriam, "But the real test comes when the bottom is punished."

Diana's face became apoplectic. It couldn't be true. She couldn't be planning to belt her on the backside like an actual scruffy, witless schoolgirl who had forgotten to learn her lessons. She was a grown woman of good breeding. There was her elevated position in society to consider and her pride had to be taken into account.

The other woman seemed to read her mind and her voice cut the air. "Your head's a nest for viper's and I must knock them out by way of your buttocks. Status disqualifies you from nothing here. Take off your skirt."

Diana had pushed her pleading as far as it would go, and she knew it. While Miriam stood glaring like a bird of prey she looked miserably down at the floor and fiddled with the fastenings on her skirt. The zip rasped undone, but she hung onto her pride a moment longer until an impatient intake of breath from the headmistress dissipated the last remaining vestiges of defiance. With a swoosh she slipped the skirt down and stepped out of it.

"Fold it neatly, dear. There's no flunkies to do it for you here." Diana did as directed, doubling the skirt over and draping it over the back of a chair, while Miss Hancock observed the close fitting hug of her schoolgirl knickers.

"You're wearing stockings and suspenders, a privilege reserved for prefects here unless specified for a special occasion."

"I-I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"Never mind. In a way this is a special occasion and they will enhance the outlines of your derriere rather nicely."

With a soft 'plop' the skirt slid from the chair and onto the carpet.

"You can't do ANYTHING right, can you?" mocked Miriam. "Did you go to finishing-school?"

"I-I attended Mme Lemarchand's Academy in Switzerland."

"Where you were no doubt drilled in the manner of a society hostess, taught how to make small talk, how to eat 'difficult food' such as artichoke and asparagus, and tutored in the correct table settings for different kinds of dinner parties. But you were never instructed in how to hang up your own clothes."

As Diana crouched down to retrieve the skirt her pants tightened around the soft curves of her buttocks and her bum cheeks wobbled faintly but with a certain resilience as she straightened up. With the skirt properly secured this time, Miriam continued.

"Now your knickers, miss. Get 'em down girl!"

Diana hesitated, wavered, and risked one last try. Her voice became breathless and her tone childish, wheedling and pleading all at the same time.

"Please headmistress, please don't make me. Don't insist I lower my pants."

"And why not?" asked Miriam quietly with just a hint of teasing.

"It's - it's embarrassing. It's, well - a girl - a woman shouldn't be made to take down her pants for smacks - n - not when she's grown-up she shouldn't."

Miriam listened with an air of reasonableness, and sounded almost understanding as she said, "You may be right. Perhaps you are too grown-up to have your pants taken down."

She paused to consider things, then turned on her heels and went to a cupboard in the corner from which she took a whippy-looking bamboo cane. "Right, m'lady. You may keep your pants on," she said with a satisfied smile, "But you'll bend over and touch your toes and keep absolutely still whilst I'm caning you."

Diana gawked with an expression of panic and dismay. Clasping her hands to her mouth she gasped several inaudible words.

"Pardon?" said Miriam, swishing the cane through the air again.

"Oooh - n-no - PLEASE don't cane me. I've never been caned before and I know it will hurt too much. Oh, please headmistress ..."

"What? But you said you were a big girl now. I never use a stick on children, but big girl's who say they're too grown up to have their knickers taken down must expect to be caned."

She swooshed the cane once more, tapped it in her hand, then raised her eyebrows.

"Look, you're going to have to make up your mind what you are. Are you really a big girl, or are you just a craven little whinger?"

Diana bit her lips miserably. Completely out of her depth she pressed her knees together and tugged childishly at the elastic of her school pants - navy-blue flannel, very schoolgirly, tight and virgin junior - and slipped them down onto her thighs. Without any more coaxing she stretched over and placed her hands on her knees.

Oh yes, thought Miriam, Oh yes! She breathed deeply, putting down the cane and picking up the leather strap as she moved into a slightly offset position behind her.

Diana's exceptional physique became apparent as her bare bottom rippled evocatively in her distress. In the shaded cleft between her buttocks her anus couldn't quite keep out of sight, while the delicate pink lips of her hairless vulva peeped timidly from the apex of her thighs. Bottom thrusting, knees pushed back, feet together and her hands reaching down onto her shines, she was perfect for a few more photographs. Shame there was no camera thought Miriam, her ladyship's slit was worthy of a full-page spread. Then she remembered all the cocks that had been there, untold numbers of every shape and size, all squirting their sticky male icor, and her lips drew tight.

Such a disgusting hussy deserved everything she got!

Diana vented a sob as the strap curled back and then smacked briskly across the tops of both legs as a warning.

"Don't give me any trouble my girl or I'll use the cane whatever age you say you are."

Back came another sob and an almost inaudible. "Yes miss."

Miriam smiled gleefully. "Why, you're quite a little charmer Diana. I never knew you had it in you. You're being quite a junior girl now, so I think an hairbrush would be more appropriate."

She had the woman face down over the arm of the sofa, bare bottom nicely rounded out and completely exposed as she laid into it.

SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK!

"Ooh, - please, Oh please, miss ..." Each time the hairbrush cracked down Diana yelped and her naked cheeks squeezed together and wormed about sensuously, but no plea or promise or mental preparation seemed to ease the sting as the blows bounced from her flesh.

SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK!

"Oh, nnnn! Ooooh!"

Holding her firmly in place with a hand pushing into her back Miriam punished her soundly, alternating the smack of the brush between each lovely reddened cheek in equal quantity.

Lady Diana bawled and finally blubbered. Her bum, glowing with heat, twitched and jerked about frantically while she desperately pressed her thighs together.

At last, red-eyed and red-bottomed and clutching at herself she was allowed up. Wiggling and sniffing she stood before the stern headmistress like a very contrite little girl.

"There we are. All over for today!" was Miriam's droll remark, "I'll let you know when I want to see you again."

  

  

  

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