David's Tall Girls' School Ch. 06byThorilla©
(It was late autumn of 1960 and I was 20 years old and was following my hobby of bird watching. I had unfortunately been detained by Amelia Wiff-Naseford, headmistress, for being a Peeping Tom in the grounds of 'Dentwood Finishing School for Tall Girls aged 18 to 20 years old'. There were 120 girls registered at the school.
I had decided not to get the police involved by agreeing to submit myself to the 'traditional' Punishment Rules of the School. This involved being stripped naked, spread-eagled on the headmistress' study carpet, and fettered to the floor with ropes and leather straps to metal rings set in the floorboards. I was then required to orally pleasure the 'whole' school. This is part six of my tale.)
Following my session with Rachel Twydell-Green, Matron loosened all my straps and helped me to my feet. I looked a sorry sight. After two hours of punishing head and neck movements required to orally pleasure the twenty girls I felt stiff and very fatigued.
She administered soothing neck massage and manipulated my legs and arms. I carried out some basic trunk-twists, arm stretching exercises, neck-rolls and limber-runs.
"We'll have to get you showered and smelling fresh for 'class 1B' won't we David?" she said as she patted me playfully on my bare arse.
Matron guided me through the school which was deserted now that it was lunchtime. I felt very vulnerable in my naked state and shielded my penis and testicles with paper tissues. I was led into the staff changing room and was left there to shower while Matron, or Molly as I now called her, fetched some towels and food.
After a thorough drying from Molly I ate some watercress and celery sandwiches which she managed to obtain from the kitchen. I crunched my way through an apple and relieved myself in the loo. I noticed that there did not appear to be a 'men's toilet'. Molly explained that men were not allowed in any part of the school and they had no male staff at all. Apparently even the grounds maintenance staff and caretakers were all women.
"What about parents? Are the fathers not allowed in?" I enquired.
Molly confirmed that they were allowed only in the entrance hall but no further. I was intrigued.
"So I am the only male in the whole School?"
"Yes you are and the first 'Peeping Tom' since 1911. Now you know why Miss Wiff-Naseford is so keen to have you in the school, you're a bit of a novelty to her and she's intrigued at your 'tonguing' talents, and your effects on her eighteen year old girls"
Entering the headmistress's office I was met by 'class 1B' who were gathered around my empty tethers and pillow. Miss Wiff-Naseford was explaining to them what was required from them and from me.
I couldn't believe my eyes. Here before me were twenty six-foot tall eighteen year olds all dressed for tennis. They were all wearing short little tennis outfits!
They wore white sleeveless tennis blouses, white pleated tennis skirts, which ended just below mid thigh, white ankle socks and tennis shoes. I had never ever seen such a beautiful collection of healthy-looking athletic girls in my life.
They all wore their hair tied back in high pony tails. One or two jumped up and down when they saw me and clapped their hands in girlish delight. Perhaps their friends had told them about their orgasms; I could not tell.
They smiled at me and wished me "Bonjour Monsieur Peeping Tom" and others shouted "Comment allez-vous Monsieur Perverti Chetif?" (which I took to mean 'How are you Mr. Puny Pervert'?) I wondered why they were not speaking English.
Miss Amelia Wiff-Naseford explained to me and Matron that class 1B were all eighteen year old French girls who spoke very little English and that they had all been playing tennis on the courts at the far end of the field and were just about to get showered and changed back into their school uniforms. She apologised to me if they smelt of perspiration. She had managed to collar them for an hour or two.
They stood around me as I squeezed through to my position in the centre of the room. Standing amongst them they towered above me. My face was at the level of some of their busts which clearly were supported by sports bras and I could clearly see firm nipples pushing against the insides of their tennis tops. My penis rose to a horizontal position and bobbed around uncontrollably at the sight before me.
The French girls crowded in on me anxious to see what a 'pervert' looked like at close quarters. They said sexy things to me and whispered "Pervert Man" at me and "Dirty Sexy Boy" as I felt them deliberately brush their tits against my face and cheeks. They growled like little tigers.
My penis 'accidentally' rubbed against their many pleated skirt hems and bare thighs. My erection disappeared under many of their skirts and touched cool thighs as I was jostled by these tall Mademoiselles trying to touch me and feel me. I felt cool hands on my shoulders, penis and testicles. Someone squeezed my bare buttocks and the insides of my thighs. I slipped my hands between their legs and felt their damp cotton panties and cool firm thighs.
"Dirty Boy," they growled at me as I touched their damp panty-clad buttocks.
As the girls moved around me their tennis skirts pleats swung out and caressed or rubbed against my exposed genitals. I was in a state of intense sexual excitement and my fully erect penis stuck out at an angle of 45 degrees. Three girls backed into me and pushed me firmly with their pert 'derrieres'. My penis disappeared under their skirts and they swayed their bottoms backwards and forwards so their pleated hems slid along the gap between my erect penis and my stomach. I almost wanted to sing with pleasure but Miss Wiff-Naseford's frantic clapping drove the girls to the back of her room near the door where they formed a line.
In my state of total frenzy I found it difficult to be reshackled to the floor but calmed down sufficiently when Molly helped me with the straps and ropes. Molly had covered the old 1889 pillow with a fresh towel and it smelt fresh and clean. She had put a towel under my shoulders and buttocks to reduce the possibility of pressure sores. She also put sweat bands on my wrists and ankles. She appeared very kind and motherly and I thanked her.
I, on the other, hand, could not believe my luck. Here I was naked, spread-eagled, about to pleasure twenty French eighteen-year old girls all wearing short pleated tennis skirts. They were clearly in a state of wild sexual excitement and smelt deliciously of fresh sweat.
Miss Wiff-Naseford asked the girls whether any of them were having periods. There was a look of puzzlement.
"Regles? Serviettes hygieniques? Combien s'il vous plait? " There were a few 'ah ouis' and four girls put their hands up.
The headmistress appeared to making progress. From her register she shouted out their names.
"Veronique Abati, please step forward." She yelled from her low leather armchair which was immediately behind me. I heard her sipping tea.
"Knickers off please Veronique," she said.
The tall slim girl walked slowly up to me staring down. Her lips pouted into a smile as she lifted the back of her short tennis skirt pleats and slid her white cotton panties down.
She pushed them as far as her hem then stopped.
She turned around and stared at me over her shoulder, pouting. I could see her stained panty gusset just beneath her pleats. She backed up to me and shook her derriere over me, her pleats opening out to reveal her beautiful bare buttocks. They were firm and round. The view was entirely erotic; she was clearly teasing me by not dropping her knickers in one movement. She glanced at my penis then stared at me challengingly with her flashing dark brown eyes.
I could hear 'our dear friend' the headmistress becoming more impatient and indignant at Veronique's strip-tease above me and Veronique speeded up her actions. She lowered her knickers and tossed them onto my face. They were stinking of sweat and stale urine and managed to shake them off me. She placed one tennis shoe on one side of my face and another tennis shoe on the other and lowered her vagina onto my mouth.
She then moved above me slowly making herself comfortable. Her muscles relaxed as she steadily urinated all over my face.
I opened my mouth in utter surprise and it immediately filled up with warm salty liquid which I was obliged to swallow. More liquid flowed from her which I also swallowed and then she suddenly stopped. A few more dribbles followed and she farted softly several times as her pubic and buttock muscles pumped out the final drops.
Miss Wiff-Naseford went completely berserk with anger.
"I thought you all understood what you had to do...'No peepee'...please...' peepee very bad'...non," she barked across the room at the nineteen French girls standing in line.
"Molly do something about this please while I get Martine to sort these girls out. I will not have urination in my private study, ever."
Molly pushed Veronique off me and handed back her knickers. Veronique appeared upset as clearly she thought that 'urinating on the perverts face' was part of the punishment. She may have thought that the various towels and paper tissues spread about me, and at hand, reinforced her views.
She looked down at me and said with a sad smile "Pardonnez-mois Monsieur, my English is not so good and I think I needed to peepee in your bouche, I mean mouth, because you are a disgusting pervert yes?"
I smiled up at her still tasting the strong salty savoury flavours of her urine and said that it didn't matter and enjoyed the taste. Clearly I was fibbing.
Martine Hamilton, the French teacher, explained in minute detail what the girls had to do and Miss Wiff-Naseford appeared satisfied. I was cleaned up and sprayed with Matron's everlasting supply of 'Eau de Cologne' to make me appear fresh and inviting to our French tennis players.
"Sophie Amyot please step forward."
She was a real cutie. Her smile made her face shine and her legs appeared to extend up to the ceiling. Reaching behind her she raised her pleats and pushed her cotton tennis knickers down to her knees. She stepped out of them and walked towards me. She placed both feet on either side of my upturned face, opened her legs and bent her knees so that she squatted with her vagina firmly on my mouth.
There were a few seconds when I wondered whether she was going to urinate over my face but I think she understood that she just needed me to do 'my thing' so that she could enjoy an orgasm. I swiftly parted her lips and slurped and probed my way to her clitoral hood. Several visible flickings exposed her clitoris and I nibbled and sucked it until it was sensitive and prominent. I lavished all my attention on this spot as Sophie began bouncing around on top of me.
I was thankful that all the girls had only been squatting on their heels as I could imagine that their full weight could quite easily have damaged my neck.
Sophie's breathing quickened and I heard little gasps and French words I did not understand. She quickened her pace and held my head firmly against her pubic bone which was beginning to resemble a blur in front of me.
All of a sudden she held me tighter and spasmed, her vaginal muscles gripping my tongue. "Oui... oui... ahhhhhhh... oui," she screamed as she experienced her orgasm.
It took several minutes before she calmed down. Matron helped her back to her friends and they all hugged her and kissed her. She was all smiles. I was thankful that I did not have another mouthful of female French urine to have to swallow.
"Paulette Auclair please walk forwards and pull down your knickers," said a somewhat triumphant headmistress behind me.
Paulette was bronze skinned. She was probably from the south of France and her hair was jet black. I noticed a fuzz of dark hair on her face and arms. She looked gorgeous. She did not look at me but stared straight ahead at the headmistress. I could tell that she was in awe of authority and clearly wished to please Miss Wiff-Naseford rather than perhaps me.
She flipped up the rear pleats of her tennis skirt and pushed down her knickers and stepped out of them. She continued looking at the head teacher as she straddled my face. Above me her vagina opening was framed by a thick thatch of black pubic hair. Swiftly she brought her hairy slit onto my lips. I tongued her to a long drawn out orgasm and she stood up, smiled at Miss. Wiff-Naseford, retrieved her panties and walked back. She did not look at me for one instant, not even once.
"Miss Nicole Barbier, if you please."
Nicole walked like a model, her feet overlapping as she strode towards me, pelvis forward. Her hips flicked her white pleated skirt outwards and upwards as she swivelled her delicious derriere. She was simply a sexual animal. My penis stretched painfully to its utmost limit. I heard our headmistress telling her to pull her knickers down and I watched spellbound.
Every movement appeared to fulfil large parts of all my erotic dreams and fantasies. Her blonde hair tied back in a ponytail made her appear as if she were a wild free creature clearly out of place in this drab Victorian school.
She smiled down at me, her mouth slightly open. She stood towering above me as she placed her feet to each side of my face and twirled her pleats from side to side making herself appear more enticing. I stared up at her blonde pubic hair and she smiled down at me again twisting from side to side her pleats flaring out.
She smiled and raised her arms in the air and twirled above me again bending her knees. Her pleats flared out revealing her curvaceous derriere and upper thighs. With her feet firmly on the carpet next to me she gave a further twist and her white pleated skirt flared out yet again.
Behind me came a loud deliberate cough followed by "Get on with it Nicole, for heaven's sake girl, we're not auditioning for a burlesque show now get your rump on his face, quickly now."
Nicole parted her thighs and bent her legs as she brought her blonde coarse curls firmly onto my mouth. She smelt of sweat and urine. I parted her lips with my tongue and slid it slowly up and down her vagina until it opened out. I pushed upwards and exposed her clitoris which became the sole target of my attentions. Nicole bounced up and down on me humming a little French nursery rhyme.
I shuddered as I heard her familiar song. Surely Nicole hadn't had to please French boys in a similar manner as Michelle Lesquereux had to, by facesitting them under her summer dresses while they frigged themselves frantically beneath her.
I was hit immediately by the notion that both girls were from the same village. What on earth were these French boys up to luring beautiful tall creatures such as Nicole and Michelle into a field wearing their thin full summer dresses and persuading them to bounce their bare buttocks on their faces whilst singing nursery rhymes?
Clearly things were different on the Continent and I began to wonder what the ornithology would be like over there.
Nicole was approaching her orgasm and her humming became louder and more laboured. I managed a few more minutes of firm probing until she gasped, quivered, hovered on the edge of her orgasm then spasmed above me. Her muscles shook violently and then she collapsed on top of me.
"Oh no," I thought, "not another 'Michelle', not another unconscious French woman squashing my genitals."
I twisted and turned trying to get her off me. I had a tennis shoe in my face and it smelt of grass. Matron came over and checked her pulse. I stared down at her Nicole's wide open legs still glistening with vaginal juices.
Her friends immediately rushed up and helped Matron to turn Nicole onto the 'recovery position'. Sophie and Veronique appeared to know first aid. The other girls stood above and around me.
From my tethered position I saw seventeen panty clad derrieres moving about above me all neatly framed by little white pleated tennis skirts. There were too many of them for me to focus on and long legs and feet kept disrupting my view. They twirled and swivelled around me and above me and from side to side.
Most of them had damp patches in the gusset and a few were badly stained in the crotch. I noticed three pair of tennis panties had dark brown stains in the cleft region and I suddenly realised in horror that although Miss Wiff-Naseford had asked how many of the girls were having a period she had not recorded their names or done anything more about it.
My heart sank as I realised that I may end up being smeared with thick menstrual discharge at any stage in the proceedings.
(Continued in part seven)