A Sissy Saga Ch. 06

Sammy shrugged, causing his narrow shoulders move up and down in a way that was erotic for some reason. "Nothing if you don't want to do it. Just smile at people."

Amanda wrinkled his nose and hung his head, but he did manage a coy smile. "I'm not gay."

"You don't have to be gay, not if you don't want to be." his companion said hurriedly, unable to conceal a trace of disappointment. "But don't knock it until you try it. How about trying a little kiss?"

Amanda knew that gays sometimes kissed each other, but he refused to think about them. Sammy had an honest open face, and it wouldn't be a trial to kiss his sweet looks.

"Okay then." he agreed. Placing a hand on each of Sammy's shoulders he drew his lips together and darted them at a flawless cheek where they made a fleeting impact that was light and chaste. "There!" he said, letting him go.

Sammy sighed heavily at such a kiss so sagely administered. "No, no. Not like that. On the lips. You know, like in the movies."

Amanda gaped, horrified. "I'm not really a girl you know."

Sammy took hold of his hands and drew him forward to encourage some intimacy. "You're a sissy and you're dressed like one. Can't you pretend for a while?"

There was a strange thrill attached to the naughtiness being proposed and slowly Amanda relaxed. "Well, I suppose I could give it a try."

His arms slid around Sammy's neck. His eyelids drooped in an alluring way and his arms slid around Sammy's neck while his moist lips hovered against the other sissy's mouth, inclining first to the right, then to the left.

Sammy chuckled, which Amanda at once found annoying. "Stop laughing. How can I get in the mood for this kind of thing if you laugh?"

"Sorry honey, but you're making such a big deal of it."

"It's the way people do it in the movies, isn't it?"

"Yes, I see what you mean. In that case I won't laugh again. Hold on, it will probably be easier if I kissed you."

Amanda froze as Sammy leaned forward so close he could feel the warmth of his breath on his lips. "Close your eyes." Sammy told him, and he did, not knowing what else to do. His breath jump-started as his new friend leaned heavily against him, tilted is head to the side and nuzzled his soft, pink mouth with his own.

Tongues touched and slithered together, but just as Amanda was beginning to melt against him Sammy drew back and lowered his lips to his neck, leaving him gasping and panting, his teenage cock now a solid rod in his pants.

When they drew apart Amanda's eyelids fluttered as though someone had just stroked him under the chin with a buttercup. Excitement buzzed in his head and he smiled self-consciously.

Sammy's eyes sparkled too and he held Amanda against his belly while he brushed his lips against the sulky mouth of his new found sissy princess. "Mmmphhhh! I've been wanting to do that since last night. Let's do it again."

They kissed once more, and Amanda even gave his new friend a little more tongue the second time, just as they did in those wicked stories people weren't supposed to read, but did anyway. Mouths open, lips hardly touching at first, the tips of tongues met and slid together juicily. Then they slipped tongues into each others mouths, locked lips and swallowed.

Sammy was an incredible kisser and Amanda made the most of it by moving his mouth in a circle, tasting the upper and lower lips of Sammy's mouth as it passed from side to side. Then Sammy pressed his hands into Amanda's back he brought his hips up tight against his own.

Amanda squirmed. Ooh, something was reaching under the back of his skirt and touching his bottom. Something that felt like fingers. Whooo! The hair on the back of his neck stood on end, goosebumps rose up all over his body and his penis twitched and extended.

"You're making me feel sexy." he managed to say at last in a voice that was precious and treacly. but he was still clinging to Sammy and making no objection to the hands that were toying under his skirt and assessing the soft mounds beneath it.

Sammy rolled his pelvis forcefully against him and two pretty schoolgirls with stiff, moist pricks, thighs arching forward, shared a third kiss. This time it stretched out and they stood toe to toe, belly to belly, raising the front of their little skirts so their panty bulges could scrape up and down.

Niether of them had predicted a conclusion when they had started, but now they suddenly groaned softly in girlish rapture as they spurted sticky gook in their panties and slithered the gooey wetness together.

"Ooh, wow! Mrs Pardoe would go wild if she knew what we're doing." husked Amanda dreamily.

"She certainly would!" responded a cold, cutting voice from the bottom of the stairs. It was Mrs Pardoe in person. So engrossed were they in their wicked fun they'd not noticed the sound of her coming up the steps.

Simultaneously two girlish faces blanched with horror, and both Sammy and Amanda frantically stepped away from each other and smoothed the front of their skirts. Such haste was pointless, and even their hurried curtsies had no impact on the lady tutor's stone-like expression.

She asked no questions, nor did she bother with a reprimand, she just dipped her hands under the back of their skirts in a manner so faultless it must have been endlessly practised, and grabbed the seat of a pair of knickers in each hand. Scissoring with her fingers and thumbs she pulled the garments tight into the crevasse between the two youthful bottoms and yanked fiercely upwards to inflict what some people termed a 'wedgy', the application of which guaranteed extreme discomfort and almost lifted them from the floor.

Gripping one in each hand she held them up on tiptoe and maintained a tenacious hold as she marched each of the distraught youthful things ignominiously off to her room.

The sitting-room of Mrs Pardoe's apartment was a small place with only enough room for a chest of draws, an armchair and a small table, and the walls were bare except for a dozen small framed portraits of young girls. Although it was feminine and light with bowls of roses and lace pillows and chiffon curtains, Amanda and Sammy both felt distinctly ill at ease.

"Disgusting! Acting like queers. How dare you entertain such a sordid arrangement? How dare you practise such vileness whilst I am responsible for your conduct?"

She stood them in the centre of that cramped place, side by side and docile, while loud and raucous she stalked back and forth with a face like a winter's morning, wagging an accusing finger at each of them in turn and giving vent to her foul mood. "I've lost count of the times you girl-things have been warned about pursuing such unacceptable behaviour, but warnings seem to have no effect with some of you. There may be people here who would treat you with leniency, but my name is Pardoe, and Mrs Pardoe never turns a blind eye to acts that go beyond the Pale.

"If sissies fool around in a disgusting way they must be punished - as swiftly as possible. I do not hold with namby-pamby treatments, especially when the urge to sin as probably not yet subsided. Such wanton individuals must have a change of heart, and in my view genuine contrition is only ever attained by a proper process of atonement. Corporal punishment is undoubtedly the best remedy."

Her fierce gaze settle on the one in most awe. "Amanda, isn't it?"

"Yes, Mrs Pardoe."

"You've not been here long, but you're old enough to know right from wrong, and the disgusting display you were a party to in the corridor just now was undoubtedly wrong, wasn't it?"

"Yes miss."

"I'm not a Miss. Address me as Mrs Pardoe." The woman paced one way and then the other whilst gathering her thoughts. "Are you homosexual, Amanda?" Mrs Pardoe rumbled in a cutting accusatory tone.

He looked at her, appalled. "Oh, no. I'm not gay."

"Then why pray, did I find you in a girly embrace with the notorious dyke standing next to you?"

"It was a sort of lark. Just a bit of fun."

"Fun!" The woman's exclamation was contemptuous. "Fun is associated with being amusing, but I'm not laughing. This is an orderly institution committed to the production of well-behaved girls, and we have rules and regulations." She moved up close to him and lifted his chin on the tip of a finger. "Rules and regulations that all good girls are expected to obey. As far as I'm concerned there's no room for being a boy here, queer or not. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, yes miss - Mrs Pardoe." Amanda answered timidly.

"There you are then, that wasn't difficult. But there are always those who step out of line from time to time and they need to be dealt with firmly."

Amanda was fully in expectation of some form of punishment. Some of the other students said Mrs Pardoe sometimes smacked their balls with a measuring-rule, but that was probably just a scare story. Ladies could be cruel and maybe smack naughty pupils on the bottom with a strap or slipper, but they never smacked their balls. Nevertheless her tone of voice was enough to make him jittery.

He stood silent, knees pressed together, hands joined and eyes caste down. He'd been at Fairyfield long enough to realise that being humble was always a wise course, so he remained contrite whist listening to her droning voice. His heart then turned a somersault as he tried to decide whether to look at the woman or remain staring at his shoes. Bravely he chose to raise his head. At his side Sammy looked on the point of tears. If Amanda was too innocent to realise the tutor's true intentions he was under no illusions himself.

The woman suddenly fell silent as she considered them both with a show of tortuous resignation, although for her any sign of regret was a charade. Eventually, like every other effeminate creature at Fairyfield, these two would be sold to a kinky matron or perverted old man who'd relish the chance to lord it over them. They'd be employed as houseboys, or housemaids more likely, since they'd be fully accustomed to being transvestites by then. They would be punished routinely, and would learn that household duties were not the only things required of them. Serves them right, she thought. Despite all their training and trappings they were still males, and men deserved none of her sympathy.

She thrust her hands on her hips. "Pants down!"

Her eyes half closed with menace as she watched them, the insufficiency of Miriam Hancock's sherry only adding venom to the mean streak in her nature, then suddenly she glared in disbelief at the blue flannel pants Amanda was sliding down his thighs.

"What on earth are you wearing as an undergarment?"

"Erm! My mother bought extra blue knicks' and said I should wear them when I could."

"Blue are not worn in the summer." the woman barked as if she'd received a personal insult. "Remove them at once. Get them right off."

Amanda clambered out of his pants flustering, then with a sinking heart he stared in horror at the object featured in all the horror stories he'd been told as Mrs Pardoe as the woman picked it up from the dresser. A plastic measuring-rule, eighteen inches long and a inch and a half wide, and so flexible she could bend it into an arc between her hands.

The woman noticed his face pale as she confronted him, but her attention was quickly settled elsewhere. His prick had a long, tight foreskin which would be rather kissable to some people she thought, although not to her of course. She gazed at his face. At eighteen years of age he was a perfect doll, already a world-class cock stiffener, and without doubt he'd soon be laying on his back ten times a day, taking cock whilst screaming and creaming in sinful ecstasy.

Humph! A young man he may be, but his balls were hardly worthy of her special treatment. But still they must suffer it. They must form the centrepiece of the ritual she habitually followed since only penitential suffering compelled a sinner to acknowledge wrongdoing.

She slipped the ruler between his legs and tapped his inner thighs. "Wider - spread your legs."

When the nervous Amanda obeyed she lifted his limp caudate penis on the tip of the ruler. "Hold this thing out of the way and push forward with your thighs."

"Ooooh - " he hesitated, but her steely eyes glowered and he read the message they conveyed - no reprieve, no mercy - and reluctantly he obeyed.

The ruler tapped again between his legs as the woman brought it up beneath his scrotum to gauge things. "Such unfortunate anatomy," she murmured as she drew back, "So often it generates pleasure to the male, yet it makes such an obvious choice for chastisement."

Precisely, expertly judged, faultlessly applied, the ruler cut a swift upward arc that struck the underside of his testicles with a meaty slap.

"Yeoow!" Amanda clutched between his legs.

"Again," Mrs Pardoe demanded, "If you can take one you can manage two. Get your hands out of the way."

Helpless, eyes watering, Amanda positioned himself obediently. Whoosh! SMACK! And this time he burst into tears.

Unconcerned with his misery the woman grasped him by an ear and twisted. "I've been lenient with you this time in hopes you'll learn a lesson. Make sure you learn it well. You may go down into the garden now, but I'm confiscating your knickers. You'll not wear any pants at all for the rest of the day. I shall check you from time to time, and if I discover you've disobeyed me you'll receive some more attention from my measuring-stick. Is that clear?"

Amanda nodded, and sniffing dismally pushed down his skirt and scurried tearfully from the room, too upset to remember to say "Thank you, miss," as he passed through the door.

Now the woman turned her attention to the quivering figure of Sammy who stood, skirt raised and pants lowered, with his genitalia on show. There was a quiet moment as ashen faced and subdued he rolled from one foot to the other and looked at the floor.

"I'm in no doubt that you were the instigator of what happened in the corridor, so you'll not get away as lightly as your friend." she told him coldly. "Hold your penis out of the way. Press it up against your belly."

Sammy swallowed hard as he looked at the plastic ruler in the tutor's hand and his mind raced through a thousand jumbled thoughts. "I'm sorry Mrs Pardoe - I really am. I don't know why I did it, I don't really, it just sort of happened. I won't do it again, honestly I won't."

The woman scoffed. "Rubbish! You're as bent as a banana. This isn't the first time I've needed to discipline you for such things, and I doubt it will be the last."

Sammy was less of a problem than Amanda since he was better hung and had testicles big enough to grab hold of, with plump nuts sitting low and pronounced in a fleshy bag. Raising his penis brought them forward enabling her to pass her hand behind his scrotum and close her thumb in a stranglehold about the root of his balls. Such a grip invariably brought a male under control, and if firmly applied ensured they wouldn't dodge about or skip away. It also made a ball-sac bulge and present a nice fat target. At that moment Sammy probably wished he was a real girl and not equipped to accept her cruelty, but he wasn't, to the woman he was a lower form of life than a girl and he had to endure it.

Coolly she raised the testicles up on her fingers and measured the rule against them before lifting it up a few inches. Pausing a moment to configure her stroke she wagged the ruler a couple of times to confirm its pliability, then raised it a little more before sending it down with mean deliberation. There was an audible SPLATT! as plastic impacted on tender flesh. The blow was not heavy, a mere tap calculated to sting like a wasp, but Sammy yelped all the same and did a little dance on the spot. When he tried to jerk away Mrs Pardoe yanked him back by his scrotum.

"Keep still!" she demanded frostily.

"Please! No more, please." he pleaded.

"No more? Why, I wouldn't be doing proper justice to stop with just one." Whap! You're incorrigible, Samantha. Keep still, I said. You've a few more to come yet."

She turned him round and pushed his head between his knees. His bare backside rounded out and spread open to display his anus, but more importantly to Mrs Pardoe the pose made a good show of his testicles, making them thrust back between his thighs as his knees sagged. "Yes! Thought Mrs Pardoe, such an impudent boyish show was certainly worthy of additional attention. Her ruler swung forward again at a slight angle to deliver another sharp stinging swat to the back of his balls - smack! And again - smack!

Sammy was weeping fitfully, and having established his tears were not of the crocodile variety the woman at last drew away and dismissed him from her sight.

Turning into the room she gazed at things more to her taste - the row of portraits on the wall, and the sweet glowing faces of the girls she'd especially favoured from among Miss Hancock's responsibilities in Harrogate; Helen, Suzy, Trixie and all her other dear loves, they all looked back at her with imagined fondness. Miriam Hancock so often called her pupils at Fairyfield 'girls' but they weren't girls. They were pretty and behaved in feminine ways, but they weren't, and teaching boys to be girl substitutes brought her no lasting joy, she longed for the real thing.

She recalled the memory of her REAL girls wistfully, conveniently forgetting that her interest was entirely salacious when in their company. She would have resented any comparison between herself and the obnoxious Mr Hardwick, but couldn't have denied certain similarities. Their prurience may have differed in the gender they admired, but that was all. She liked girls of eighteen or nineteen. There was something about their bodies that really excited her. Oh, how she missed them! They were pure, soft-bodied angels, each of them with a skin that tasted sweet and had a texture that slicked against her mouth like warm cream.

Mrs Pardoe had dumped the male gender following a disastrous marriage which she recognised was a mistake and an mere effort to conform. All that clumsy bedtime groping, pushing and shoving was soulless and grotesque. Males just irritated her and she was much happier in the company of brightly smiling girls.

She'd known a good many in Harrogate; wayward teenage girls involved with drugs and on the verge of prostitution. She'd tried her best to keep them uncontaminated by males. She'd warned them never to take off their knickers to please boys, but some of them did anyway - spreading their legs and letting wicked boys examine their cracks and allowing them to push their despicable pricks into their tender furrows. And of course there were the unspeakable things Miriam Hancock insisted they did with visiting guests. The less said about that the better.

She'd tried so hard to keep her darlings untainted, but so often she'd had to punish them. "Naughty, naughty girls!" she would say, "What ever was you thinking of?" Making them stand close while she lectured them sternly, all the time with a hand up the back of their frocks, making their delicate bottoms wobble with sharp pats and feeling the plumpness of their pussy-mounds snuggled into the gusset of their pants.

She'd often make them strip down to just their knickers, and she'd stuff a golf-ball in their mouths and make them run on the spot until exhausted. Then she would dole out the real punishment, making them assume the recipient position for a bare-bottomed spanking over her lap with their panties wrapped around their knees.

She never wore underwear herself on those occasions. She believed her girls far too naive to notice her nipples spiking out the front of her blouse, while they were certainly ignorant of the vast amount of wetness generated elsewhere.

On occasions when she felt especially evil she would turn them onto one side and raise one of their legs, then give them a sharp crack with her plastic ruler square onto their naughty twats. That made them howl, but it was no more than they deserved. Naughty girls who made a ladies nipples go stiff - who made a lady hot and wet - made her shudder - made her pull up her skirt and open her legs. They had to suffer the consequences of bad behaviour, and that included having their faces pulled hard against her femininity and being ordered to lick and lap and push out their tongues.