Purity and Punishment Ch. 02

"Welcome to The Ring of Hope," trills Ms Grayling in her sing-song voice, "where we keep our minds pure, our hearts full of hope and our bodies..." she looks down from the church hall's tiny stage, her brown eyes flicker over a few of the girls in the front row, resting a moment on Fiona's large breasts, "...unsullied," she finally says, with a queasy, simpering smile.

Grayling walks a razor's edge: telling us not to have sex without, seemingly, being able to mention sex. I mean, what sort of stupid name is The Ring of Hope? It doesn't even make any sense: The Ring of Not Fucking, The Ring of No Cock would at least spell it out but instead, every week, we have to sit through half an hour of Grayling beating about the bush, if you'll excuse the pun, before we can get to the good stuff.

Camilla sits next to me us usual, one calf-length boot propped up on the chair in front, showing me the lightly tanned inner thigh of her long leg under her royal blue A-line dress. Camilla makes sure Grayling's attention is fully on Fiona's breasts then grabs my hand and slides it up inside her dress. I gasp as I feel the PVC of the thong she has on and slipping my fingers inside, feel how wet her pussy is; immaculately shaven as always. Pulling my hand away before anyone sees, Camilla shoots me a dirty little smile, tossing her shoulder length blonde hair. She's going to get me in trouble one of these days: there are different rules for people like her and people like me.

"This week, we have a new addition to The Ring," says Grayling, the bright white strip lighting shining unflatteringly down on her scrubbed pale skin and starchy white blouse. "Ashley, would you come up and introduce yourself?" she nods, tight brown bun of curly hair bobbing up and down.

A small girl with a slightly chubby girl-next-door face gets up from one of the seats near the front. Her wavy blonde hair's pulled back into a couple of pig tails and held down at the front with hair grips. She ignores the steps and hops up onto the stage like she's grown up around brothers, holding her own with the boys.

Grayling makes way for her, giving an almost imperceptible shudder as she guides her to the front of the stage with a hand on the denim cut-offs covering her pert, well-rounded little bum. Ashley blushes slightly, a pink tinge under the delicate smattering of freckles across her apple cheeks. She looks delightfully innocent, bright blue eyes wide with curiosity, standing awkwardly, the toe of one Converse sneaker over the other.

For such a small girl, she has quite large breasts, straining through her Auburn Tigers T-shirt. Her cut-offs reveal slightly chubby thighs though she's young enough to carry it without looking fat.

"Hi y'all, I'm Ashley, I'm from Waverly, in Alabama...you probably haven't heard of it," she says. "Um, I'm starting at your university in Roe-Hampton," she pronounces it "so my daddy wanted me to come and stay with Fiona so she could bring me along here to meet some good people here before I start, so...Hi!" She giggles and blushes once more, looking down at her feet.

"Thank you, Ashley," says Grayling and puts out a hand to guide her bum on its way once more but Ashley has already jumped down from the stage and Grayling is left hanging. She shakes her head, a couple of strands of curly hair escaping from the bun, rubbing her right hand with her left as though soothing an ache. "Does anyone have any inspiring stories to share with us this week?" she asks.

"Oh, I do!" says Fiona, instinctively mimicking Grayling's trilling. Grayling beams down at her like she's her favourite little pony perfectly executing a trick.

"Wonderful, Fiona: please share it with us," says Grayling. Fiona gets to her feet, tossing her long brown hair and adjusting her Alice band with a flick of her slender wrist, her breasts bouncing slightly under her summer dress.

"Well, I was out riding when I saw a nightingale with a broken wing." Although she's standing at the front, she doesn't turn round to face the rest of us and addresses her story to Grayling, who's sitting with her knees demurely together under the long grey fishtail skirt she has on, "...and of course, I stopped to tend to it, like the Good Lord would have us do."

Fiona is laying it on so thick, stroking her own arms as she speaks, even Grayling looks a bit embarrassed for her: it had to be a nightingale, not a thrush or a starling and now we're going to hear the unlikely story of Fiona's miracle bird rescue. But that's Fiona; always tries too hard. She's too old for the ring really, like 22 or 23, but she still comes along every week, dressed up like a little girl: Grayling's little pet at The Ring and at the riding school. Mind you, she must ride about a mile a week and at a snail's pace too; she'd probably snap like a twig if she tried anything harder.

"I dismounted and tied my horse to a tree, then bent down to tend to the poor creature."

I wonder what weird shit Fiona's secretly into: That's the thing with The Ring, the more committed members are always the kinkiest, really.

The way it breaks down, you've got three sorts of people here: first the unfuckables; they're basically here to pretend no sex is a choice for them. Then you've got the ones who've been sent by their families: some of them are unfuckables but there are also a few cute ones. They're hard work though, most of them barely know what sex is, you've got to train them up and while it's fun to have a little pet to call on, they're never going to blow your mind in bed.

The last and by far the most rewarding type though, are the ones who've chosen to come here. So horny or so kinky they scare themselves, so they come here thinking Grayling and The Ring of Hope can save them from their own dark desires.

Scratch the surface of a truly committed Ringer and nine times out of ten, you'll find the horniest little bastards and bitches around. That's why I still come here; it's an untapped seem of talent. It is literally, like, so easy to seduce abstainers.

You always have to fuck a Ring of Hope boy twice: first time he lasts about ten seconds but they're keen learners; most of them are so grateful to get with a girl, they'll do anything you say. Unlike the boys at college, they know that they're clueless about sex so they don't get in a sulk when you tell them what to do. They're not going to give you VD and they won't tell all their mates the next day either.

The girls are even easier. Half the Ring of Hope girls think that they are abstaining when they're with me and Camilla since there are no boys involved and unlike the boys, they can last as long as you want it to. It's my own private harem: discrete, on demand, exclusive.

"...and that's why I thank the Lord that I was able to give the gift of flight back to this poor wounded creature." Fiona's heartwarming fairy tale seems to be drawing to a close and she finally takes her seat looking very pleased with herself. I'd love to spank her little arse till it's all pink and sore. We've always steered clear of her though coz she'd probably grass us straight up to Grayling.

I imagine Fiona, hands tied behind her back, little white cotton panties balled up in her mouth, making muffled whimpering sounds as I land blows on her firm, pert little bum, her big breasts quivering with each one. It's about time someone taught her a lesson.

Grayling gets up at the front again. "Thank you Fiona, that was wonderful," she says, looking only slightly embarrassed. Then she launches into her usual speech about the temptations facing young people today. She must be really making an effort in front of the new girl: there's a lot of 'sins of the flesh' stuff.

I start to think about Ashley, imagine her corn-fed little face between my legs, those baby-blue eyes looking up at me, pink little tongue tasting pussy for the first time: I'm starting to get wet and I wonder how I can get to her without Grayling noticing.

"...stocking tops peeking out from under your rolled-up little school skirt!" Grayling must be trying out a new bit: What Not To Wear: Teen Abstinence Edition. It's addressed towards the girls, it's always addressed to the girls with Grayling: "Push up bra squeezing your little bosoms up out of your blouse, jiggling around for all the boys to see, touching yourselves all over like a common trollop, sucking on your finger, giving the come-on eyes to the boys; what do you expect boys to do if you conduct yourself like that?"

She's getting herself really worked up, short of breath with sweat forming on her brow. Her own big breasts look as if they're going to burst out of her blouse, bouncing up and down as she shudders back and forth, delivering her sermon. We're all mesmerised now, staring at the ranting woman with the heaving bosom, curly brown hair escaping from her bun, a tiny ball of fury. This is high grade, even for Grayling.

I wonder if the rumours I've heard about her are true. She certainly seemed to take a shine to me before she realised just how much trouble I could be. I imagine her breasts bursting forth from her bra, bouncing around for us all to see. I realise with a little surprise that Grayling could actually be quite pretty if she wore make-up and did her hair properly and maybe wore a less severe expression once in a while.

Grayling builds to a fever pitch, her pinched little voice starting to crack as she almost shouts "Inside of every woman is a little slut! You must take your inner slut in hand! You must conquer her; dominate that dirty little slut! Make her obey your command!"

Grayling stands hunched slightly forward, panting for breath, big breasts trembling under her blouse, her fists clenched at her sides. I think she's going to give herself a nosebleed but then she catches herself, relaxes slightly and concludes, "Only then will you find a greater, more lasting spiritual happiness." She pauses, catches her breath, looks round, a faint smile forming, satisfied with the impact she's made. "Now, finally, does anyone have anything to confess?"