David's Tall Girls' School Ch. 11byThorilla©
(It was late autumn of 1960 and I, David Shaw, was 20 years old and was following my hobby of bird watching. I had unfortunately been detained by Amelia Wiff-Naseford, headmistress, for being an alleged '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. Clearly I was not a so called 'pervert' but I could not prove it.
I had decided not to get the police involved by agreeing to submit myself to the traditional 'Punishment Rules of the School' as applied to Peeping Toms. This involved being stripped naked and spread-eagled on the headmistress' study carpet, and fettered with ropes and leather straps to metal rings set in floorboards. I was then required to orally pleasure the 'whole' school. This is part eleven of my tale.)
"Oh you bloody stupid little pervert," Miss Wiff-Naseford said wiping her mouth with the towel, her saliva and my semen dribbling down her chin. She tried to spit it out but it was too late, she'd swallowed the lot. I laughed secretly.
Matron cleaned me up and after yet another shower I was led back naked to the headmistress's 'punishment room', namely her office.
There again before me lay the familiar four leather straps attached to long ropes which met in the middle of the room to which I would be tied so that I remained fettered and restrained for the many women and girls of the Dentwood Finishing School for Tall Girls to pleasure themselves upon my upturned face.
The main part of the punishment was that I could not relieve myself sexually no matter how much I wished to 'come'. It was a devilishly cunning but simple punishment thought up by the first headmistress Geraldine Maxine Bliss-Frampton in 1889.
I could imagine Miss Bliss-Frampton having a tightly corseted hour glass figure. I could imagine her testing out the ingenious apparatus on, say, the eighteen year old gardener's son. He'd be strapped down, face up, jerking his naked body to and fro, his head churning from side to side trying to escape. She would be wearing jet black, with the merest hint of a pure white lacy underskirt peeping from below her heavily gathered pleated skirts.
She would be looking down on the young fellow as she reached up behind her skirts and petticoats to loosen the tight waist band of her crotchless drawers. She may even be walking over the young chap dragging her skirts and starched petticoat lace slowly up and down his bare torso and over his face. His stiff penis would be her sign that the punishment was working.
Loosening the tapes of her underdrawers she would slide off her warm damp knickers and place them to one side. Her 1889 petticoats would be making a froufrou, swish-swish sound as she paced around the room like a caged panther.
The boy would be looking more and more anxious and apprehensive as she approached him. Slowly and very deliberately she would lift her skirts and place one of her two-inch heeled black ankle boots heavily on one side of his face and the other black ankle boot on the other side. She would be facing his face. His head would be between her feet resting on the solid narrow pillow beneath her.
She would stand there, straddling him, with her skirt and many layers of petticoats raised to her knees for a few moments staring, smiling and snarling at the fear in his eyes and at his helplessness. Over her shoulder she could see pre-cum form on his enormous erection which was straining with every sinew to enter her. He was like a trapped animal. His heart would be beating fast.
Above him Miss Geraldine Maxine Bliss-Frampton, MA, age 47, Headmistress of Dentwood Finishing School for Tall Girls would tower like some fearsome goddess. The young eighteen year old beneath her would be staring at the immense immodesty above him.
A mature woman with her engorged genitalia and undergarments on display would have driven him wild with primitive desires. She would casually drop her skirt and petticoats over him and stand there shaking them down for a minute or two so everything was prim and proper. Her vaginal odour would be evident, it's primordial strength would be building up within the confines of her thick skirts.
Under her garments the boy would be lost in a darkened frilly lacy flouncy petticoat cavern beneath her. Her black stockings would have contrasted with the starched whiteness of her petticoats. She may have even dragged her frills and lacy hems many times over his naked body to intensify the punishment.
Gradually she would bend and open her knees, pushing her garments out of the way on every side as she did so. The boy would become invisible as her skirts began to conceal and envelope the upper part of his body. She would slowly squat firmly on his face to the accompaniment of the many swish-swish, rustling sounds of silks and froufrou sounds of starched petticoat lace sliding over crisp petticoat lace.
Miss Geraldine Maxine Bliss-Frampton would shuffle forward squatting on her heels until her warm damp smelly hairy vagina rested on his mouth.
"Tongue out boy," she would bellow loudly and sternly and push herself further down on him. Out would come his tongue like a nervous rabbit and enter the awaiting hot moist unknown burrow above him.
"Now begin licking boy and do not stop, understand?" she would demand with authority.
The boy would say "eoaagff," as his mouth gagged on her pubic hair and his tongue was pushed brutally inside her. Instinctively he would lick her clitoris and the smooth insides of her inner lips. Her female lubrication, like thin honey, would spread over his face as she rubbed herself over him using every part of his face like a mere disposable masturbatory tool.
"Oooh yes, sheer joy, bliss, yes, divine, yes, yes, bliss,divine, heavenly joy, oh, oh, yes, oooh yes, yes, yes, out of this world, ooh yes just divine ooh yes," she would exclaim, the oohs sounding as she slid her slippery vaginal lips along the boy's nose.
After many minutes of continuous rocking, rubbing and sliding Miss Geraldine Maxine Bliss-Frampton would slowly but surely orgasm all over the poor lads face, almost drowning him in female juices. Within seconds she would be off him and leave the room....... He would be left with his semen flowing gently out, oozing its way onto his smooth hairless boyish stomach in a constant stream.
Meanwhile back in 1960, while thinking about the first headmistress, matron had been busy strapping me down again. I was tethered to the floor once more, unable to move with the narrow solid six-inch pillow supporting my head at the most efficient angle and height for orally pleasuring a woman in the squatting position above me.
Miss Wiff-Naseford sat behind me on the low leather chair in the prime position for viewing my punishment. I noticed that she had a bottle of gin and some tonic water on the table next to her. Clearly all this was mere entertainment for her. I looked down towards the doorway, which was at the far end of the room and in traipsed three girls in French maid's uniforms to the accompaniment of the clatter of high heels. I thought I was imagining things and Miss Wiff-Naseford probably thought the same way too.
"Pray tell me who you are, young' French maids' who look clearly lost?" said the head teacher behind me in a sing-song contralto voice.
"We are from class 2A; the drama teacher said we have to punish a Peeping Tom? We are in the middle of a dress rehearsal for the 'Autumn Review', Miss Wiff-Naseford," said one of them.
"What are we to do?" said the spokes person clattered towards me, a bit unsteady on her very high heels.
Her uniform was basically a black full-circle gathered taffeta flounced knee-length dress with plunging neckline. Beneath her dress were masses of white net petticoat which swayed from side to side as she swung her hips provocatively. I thought that it would be very difficult not to look provocative in a French maid's uniform. Under her petticoats she wore white tiered pettipants and beneath these white suspender belts attached to black fishnet stockings . She also wore black patent-leather four-inch stiletto heels. She carried a little pink feather duster.
I may go into 'hair-trigger-ejaculation-mode' at any moment, I thought. All my wildest fantasies appeared to be coming true.
"Who are you?" asked Miss W-N to the first one.
"Susan Laing Miss."
"And are you having a period Susan?" She asked, staring over her steel framed glasses.
"That's good Susan now remove your knickers and sit on Peeping Tom's face."
"How do you mean sit on his face? Miss?"
"Oh my, my, more problems, more problems. Why do I have to always explain everything? Girls, girls, quickly. come over here and I'll show you what to do."
From across the floor I heard the click, clatter, click of high heeled shoes tottering towards me as the French maids surrounded me. Above me were petticoats, hips and thighs, fishnets, skirts and suspender belts. Miss Wiff-Naseford stood over me placing one foot on each side of my face. She had changed her knickers and was now wearing pale pink satin ones with white lace hems. She lifted her skirt and petticoat and squatted down and shifted forward so that my nose was rammed forcefully into the already moist cleft in her knicker gusset.
"That's what you do girls, without panties of course and 'Tom' here will use his tongue on you and 'tickle' you and hopefully will make you 'come', do you all understand?" She asked looking up at the three sweet young faces.
"He won't bite will he Miss?" said one in an impeccable 'home counties' accent.
"No of course not, will you 'Tom'?" as she kicked me hard gritting her teeth and reminding me that the local constabulary were in the next village. I smiled up her skirt at her knickers and said that I would not bite, only 'lick lovingly' and smirked.
Susan Laing was a tall red-head with very shapely legs. She looked down at me and told me not to bite as she said that she was particularly tender between her legs. I winked at her and gave her panty crotch a lecherous look licking my lips in anticipation.
She reached under her skirt and petticoats and into the waistband of her pettipants and slid them down over her black fishnet stockinged legs. My eyes feasted excitedly on the seven or eight ruffles of overlapping white tiered lace which decorated her knickers.
As could have been predicted, Susan dropped them on my face and rubbed them over me with the soles of one shoe. The rehearsals must have been very demanding because they were full of perspiration and smelled of warm vagina. She fished them off me and stood above me.
My eyes scanned the wonderful view up her French Maid's dress. Her petticoat rustled and shook above me like a large ballerina's dress emphasizing every little movement of her elegant frame. All the nylon net was finished in several tiers of fine scalloped starched floral lace which made her appear to resemble a large doll. Facing towards me she placed one stiletto to one side of my face and the other on the other side; she shuffled and swayed and looked towards Miss Wiff-Naseford.
"Sit on him girl, lets see your arse on his face," said the headmistress not mincing words. "Wipe your wet pussy over his nose, you might actually enjoy it girl, go on."
I stared up at her wiggling my tongue in encouragement. Despite looking 'red hot' in her lacy French Maid's uniform Susan was still unsure about me. Then all at once there was a sudden flutter of shaking petticoats above me as she squatted full and firmly onto my waiting face.
She looked to the entire world as if she was about to urinate in my mouth and I hoped earnestly that she would not do so.
I poked my way into her little hairy crevice while all about me her stiff lace underskirts were rustling, swishing and swaying. I was in another petticoat world. I had lost count how many I had entered and survived all my petticoat encounters during the day.
Her rubbings became more fervent and insistent and I was under the impression that this little madam was determined to 'have her orgasm' at all costs. The rhythm increased. I sensed that Miss W-N was slurping her gin in fascination.
I, on my part, continued slurping Susan's prominent vagina which actually seemed to be making sucking sounds as we were so tightly clamped together. Her breath was coming out in little sighs and gasps.
Her fishnet stockings rubbed against my upturned face. They were quite coarse in texture and were unlike everyday smooth stockings and I was surprised how rough they felt. I had never felt fishnet stockings before.
I nibbled her clitoris with little double tongue-flicks as she began to gurgle with excitement. I pushed her on. Her maids dress moved up and down above me, and her lacy hems crackled and rustling loudly around me. It would not be long before she would orgasm. I licked and probed and sucked and slobbered and pushed her onward, my tongue, nose and lips stimulating every part of her exposed genitals.
"Please, please, please, oooooh please, she gasped, smearing her dripping lips smoothly all over my face. We were almost there as I ploughed on mercilessly. Each probing was followed by lickings then sucking and more probing. We continued for minute after minute after minute.
"Please, please, oooooh Please pleeeease" she squealed, as at last I felt her shudder then spasm as she orgasmed in a series of tremors, pulsations and judders. It was all over and she pleaded with me "no more, no more." She was now too sensitive to touch. She was completely out of breath and her uniform took on a deflated appearance as she stood up, her knees cracking.
"Next, who are you please? And are you having a period?" bellowed Miss Wiff-Naseford to the second French Maid from across the room.
"Kate Randall, and no I am not menstruating," said the tall slim creature walking towards me.
From floor level I could see her thin high- heel shoes click, click. clattering their way cruelly towards me. The stilettos and pointed toes looked truly dangerous as the black patent leather flashed glinting as it caught the light. Her shoes were to be avoided at all costs I thought. She stood astride my chest and looked down at me over the stiff swaying tiers of her white coarse-textured net petticoats. She had stage make- up on and looked gorgeously 'tarty'.
"What exactly do you do on stage Kate? " asked Miss Wiff-Naseford bemused by her appearance. "Oh it is a little Burlesque number called 'Bump-n-Grind'" Miss Randall said staring down at me grinning. She stuck her tongue out at me and smiled.
"Oh I don't know if I know that one, how does it go dear?" said Amelia W-N sipping her gin.
"Oh no," I thought "she's going to do some dance routine dangerously close to my genitals."
I was not wrong on this score. Kate Randall stood adjacent to my neck and twirled her feather duster and stamped her feet firmly three times then she was off. Three steps to the left, a wiggle, and three steps to the right, a wiggle, stamping her shoes all around my neck, face, upper arms and thighs.
She wriggled, wiggled, strutted and swung her hips enthusiastically in time to some imaginary music in her head. Her movements were driving me rigid with lust. I clenched my teeth trying not to come as she swung her knickers bare thighs, fishnet stockings and petticoats above me over and over again, flicking her hips marching on the spot. Click, click click click, went her stilettos inches from my face.
Pre-cum was clearly dribbling out of me forming a small pool on my stomach. Physically I just wanted instant masturbatory relief from all this stimulation.
"Most interesting Kate, now off with your panties and squat on our Peeping Tom."
She stood vertically over my face and lifted up the rear of her French Maid's uniform and pushed her pettipants down to below the knees and let go. Naturally they landed on my face and she stepped out of them kicking them off to one side. I was already aware of the intense smell of warm vagina. She spent no time squatting on my face and used my head to hold onto in order to support her as she brought herself off. Kate had clearly masturbated in the past as she knew how to use an object, perhaps the corner of a chair or bed knob, to help her reach her climax. I had to do very little in fact I just kept my mouth nose and chin up and she did the rest.
"I see you are skilled at making yourself 'come' Kate; a very good skill, I say when one needs to relax," "Yes Miss Wiff-Naseford I usually use a carved wooden stool at home; it's got lovely rounded knobbly corners," she explained
"Mark you Kate, Mr. 'Tom' is very good you know, he knows what to do and where to stick it; by the way Kate how are your parents? We didn't see them last year did we, at the speech day event?"
"No...errr...gasp...Miss Wiff-Naseford...ouch.... you .err...didn't...oooooh...gasp...err," gasped Kate Randall, struggling to remain composed.
Underneath her, amongst all the seething crackling white layers of white nylon net I was trying not to have my head wrenched off. My arms and legs spread-eagled about me were taking the force exerted by Miss Randall's muscular rubbings. Clearly her 'climax stool' at home must be in a poor condition, I thought, judging by the effort she was putting into it. I was wishing these two females could stop talking and let Miss Randall get on with it. I felt as if Kate's whole weight was levering me. All her petticoats thrashed around me as she built up her speed and strength as she held onto my head.
"I hope that they are not unwell, your parents I mean Kate. I knew your mother years ago..." Miss Wiff-Naseford prattled on senselessly as I felt my face being viciously abused by this ruthless nineteen year old six-footer.
"Oh my gosh, ooh my gosh, oh my, oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh my gosh. Oh my gosh...ooooh," she slowly screamed as she orgasmed over me. I tried to fight against the tethers as my penis strained painfully for relief. It was all too much; I needed to wank or I would die.
".....and another thing Kate your mother always used to catch colds, never knew anyone quite like her...." continued the headmistress leaning back in her comfortable arm chair helping herself to more gin oblivious of the fact that I lay under the girls outspread skirt and petticoats wondering what harm had been done to me.
My young tormentor, Kate Randall pushed herself off me and wiped my mouth, nose and chin with her ruffled pettipants and put them back on, rearranging the layers of all her undergarments so that they looked neat and prim again.
"Right who's next? Ah, good, Samantha Skirving-Thorpe," said Miss W-F clearly hoping to see more action.
"Yeth Mith Wifth-Nathford," said a rather sweet lisping voice followed by now familiar clunk, clunk, and clunk of high spike-heels which appeared within my field of view. She was a real cutie. Her eyes sparkled and she had an excited 'little girly face' despite being nineteen, She was clearly well groomed and appeared vivacious, spontaneous and charming.
"Well you know what to do, pants down first Samantha,"
"Yeth Mith Wifth-Nathford," repeated the delightful blonde haired long-legged beauty, almost skipping with enthusiasm.
She stood next to me and I could see up her skirt. I stared at all the intricate overlapping tiered layers of stiff net petticoats which only slightly hid the hem of her full circle taffeta French Maid's dress which spread above me. She swiveled her hips as she stepped out of her ruffled pettipants and 'to everyone's surprise' dropped them on my face. She flicked it off me with one of her shoes and prepared herself to straddle my face. Again I was nervous of these four inch spike heeled shoes which all three of the girls were wearing.