Schoolgirls of St. Cats 03bycatwilliams©
Miranda could hardly control her excitement. She burst into the dormitory, pushing a chair under the door handle by habit.
"I don't think Nurse Bishop believed it for a moment, but she signed my note, and Forsdyke accepted it like a lamb."
Miranda stood at the window, looking down the drive.
She said: "you better pass your clarinet exam, the amount of practice you're having!"
"Grade 12, it's so hard!"
"Bishop said I'm to spend the day in bed... but I thought I'd need a shower first."
"I need one too, I'm positively disgusting after last night. I want to be all squeaky clean again."
Miranda struck a pose:
"Undress me slave."
Helene looked up at her, brushing her long blonde hair from her eyes.
Miranda repeated: "undress me slave, undress me and bathe me in asses' milk."
Helene laughed: "asses' milk? skimmed or semi?"
"You said you'd do whatever I wanted. And I'm a dirty girl girl who needs a shower, and you're my slave. So undress me, lead me to the shower and clean me."
Helene said meekly: "yes, ma'am," and dropped an exaggerated curtsey.
Miranda said: "shoes first, slave," and offered up a leg.
Helene squatted by her girlfriend's feet, undoing her buckles.
"Now the stockings."
Helene lifted Miranda's dress, placed her hands on her slim thighs. She felt the thick black stocking tops beneath her hands, and rolled them slowly down, over the knee, where they dropped to the floor.
Miranda stepped out of them.
"You may undo my dress."
"Shall I start at the top or the bottom?"
Miranda pretended to think.
"Start at the bottom slave, it's sexier."
There were fourteen buttons to their grey, school uniform dresses. Usually they just undid the first two or three, and stepped out of them, but Miranda was playing for time.
Helene fiddled with the buttons. It was awkward, kneeling on the floor, in front of the 18 year old girl. Miranda sighed, and laid her hands on Helene's head. For a moment she could feel herself losing patience with her game, but it was, she knew, worth it.
Miranda's dress was falling open. Helene could see her soft belly, catch her first sight of the exotically lacy thong that Miranda had picked out that morning. It had sequins that caught the light from the dormitory window, and beneath the white lace, Helene could see the small tuft of pubic hair and her friend's neat pussy.
Helene pushed the dress further apart, rising from her position, sliding her hands up Miranda's hips on her soft, warm skin.
Miranda giggled: "you're not supposed to like this, slave. Finish the buttons, quickly, and get my blouse off."
The final few buttons came undone much easier, and the dress dropped to the floor. Helene undid the crisp, white blouse, revealing a matching lace bra. Not for the first time, she was suddenly envious of her friend's womanly physique. Miranda's breasts - although still those of a young girl, were fuller than her own.
"My bra," Miranda said imperiously, turning around.
Helene fumbled with the catch for a moment - it was so different, undoing it from the back - enjoying the warm, sleepy scent coming from Miranda's shorter, dark hair.
"Undress me," Miranda repeated, "and take me to the shower."
Still standing behind her girlfriend, Helene placed her hands on Miranda's hips, letting them slide over her eighteen-year-old skin, catching the delicate thong with her fingers, easing it down slowly, until the straps became loose and dropped down her legs.
Miranda, now totally naked, said: "shower me."
Helene said, "wait a tick," and started undoing her blouse buttons.
"Oh no," Miranda said, "slave stays dressed, only royalty go naked."
She held out her hand.
"Take me to my shower."
Each dormitory had its own shower -- and with eight or so shower heads, half a dozen girls could comfortably shower together - and did so every day. The room was still slightly damp from the morning. Miranda stood regally in the centre.
"Make sure the water is correct, Miss Helene," she said, "if I get a chill, I shall want your head."
Suddenly she had a fit of the giggles.
Helene, still fully dressed in her school uniform, tried to turn on the shower taps whilst remaining out of the water's reach.
"Oh dear, no," Miranda said, "Miss Helene's going to get very wet today, she may as well get used to the idea."
Helene stared at Miranda. She thought: "what a huge pain, she knows I've got nothing left until laundry day tomorrow".
Miranda said: "You said you'd do anything. You can hang them up later, don't be such a fuss pot."
Miranda was right, of course. The rest of the school wouldn't be home until the evening at the earliest, and it was another hot summer's day. Her uniform would dry in an hour.
She turned the taps on, deliberately letting the hot water drench her, soaking her dress, her blouse and her stockings. Helene was grateful that at least Miranda hadn't insisted on shoes.
"Wash my hair."
Helene stood behind her naked friend, feeling the water from the shower heads spraying on her legs and her bum. Miranda bowed her head into the water, flicking it back so water sprinkled on Helene's face. Helene applied some shampoo and rubbed it into Miranda's hair. She let it run off and repeated with conditioner. Miranda's hair was sticking to her neck, barely touching her shoulders. Helene traced her friend's spine with a finger from her neck to the small of her back.
When her hair had rinsed clean, Miranda said "clean me now."
Helene knelt on her knees behind Miranda, the water on the shower room floor soaking into her stockings. One-by-one, she massaged shower gel into Miranda's upturned feet, her shins, her knees. She thought: by the time I've finished, I shall have touched every single centimeter of her body, I shall know her absolutely.
Lost in thought, she barely felt Miranda part her legs, allowing Helene to stroke the inside of her thighs.
"My back, now."
Helene stood up, using both her hands to clean Miranda's back. She had an elegant neck, with a little line of dark hairs at the nape. Her back was strong, Helene's hands enjoyed feeling it, wet and soapy. The small of Miranda's back was gently curved, her hips slightly pronounced. Her buttocks were tight, and, Helene thought, seriously biteable. Instinctively, she let her left hand slide over her girlfriend's arse, over her hips and onto her belly. Miranda sighed and leaned against the shower wall.
With her free hand, Helene undid her dress and let it fall to the floor; then her blouse. She cuddled up to Miranda's back, putting her arms around her, feeling the water course freely over her back, feeling Miranda's back pressed against her naked breasts and belly.
Helene's hands explored Miranda's front as if it was her own. It was strange to raise her hands and feel Miranda's breasts, much larger and firmer than her own, with stubby nipples. Miranda was giggling. Helene played with her nipples, squeezing them between finger and thumb, feeling them grow harder beneath her touch. Miranda held Helene's hands, pulling them down towards her groin.
Helene felt the groove of her hips, leading inexorably towards her pubic mound. Her fingers explored further, feeling the soft skin, the slightly rough area where Miranda's pubes grew. She felt her softly swollen cunt lips, her precise clitoris, still sleeping beneath its hood.
Helene ran her fingers down, gently parting Miranda's pussy lips with a finger.
Miranda whispered: "not yet".
Helene bit her ear.
"Then what, mistress?"
"Wash me first, wash my pussy, then make me smooth."
Helene took the opportunity to drop her knickers to the floor, step out of her sodden stockings. She squirted a little gel onto both her hands, rubbing them together to form a foam.
She stood behind Miranda, sliding a soapy hand between her bum cheeks, her fingers exploring her crease. With the other, she reached around, teasing her pubic hairs, making Miranda's pussy foamy.
"Open your legs, ma'am."
Miranda spread her legs further. Helene's hands touching beneath her legs. She could feel her friend's cunt soften beneath her hands, she felt her puckered asshole with her fingers. She couldn't resist stroking around it, feeling it tighten and relax as hers had done last night. She pressed harder, kissing and licking Miranda's neck playfully.
"Finger fuck me," Miranda breathed, "both fingers."
Helene's finger parted her pussy lips, feeling the warmth inside, the wet juice inside.
Miranda could feel Helene's hands pressing against her, could feel the finger moving inside her.
But she needed more.
"My ass... please..."
Helene pushed harder against the wet asshole, the muscles tightening, then giving way as Miranda relaxed and let her girlfriend's finger slide inside.
Helene could feel Miranda holding both her fingers tight: one in her ass, the other in her cunt; she was clenching and rocking against her. Helene fingered Miranda's cunt as deeply as she could, keeping her finger just inside her asshole, vibrating the tight muscle. Helene started to stroke Miranda's clit with her thumb.
For a moment, Miranda let her continue. The feeling was almost more than she could bare, much more than this and she would be lost forever. But it wasn't what she wanted.
Reluctantly, Helene stopped rubbing Miranda's clit, let her fingers slide from her cunt and her asshole.
Miranda turned around to face her friend.
"No-one told slave she could get naked."
She pouted, and gently pulled Helene's nipples.
"Make me smooth now."
Helene knelt, feeling for a razor in the sponge bag.
The water was splashing on Miranda's back, running down her legs.
Helene felt cold, now that she wasn't in the water.
"What shape would my mistress like?"
She examined Miranda's pubes. Usually she left a small triangle, just above her cilt. What pubes there remained were trimmed short anyway.
"As they are, slave, just a tidy up today."
Helene squeezed a little foam into her hand, and applied them to Miranda's mound. The lips were more pronounced now, just protruding. Helene thought: I'd like to feel them between my lips, I'd like to suck them...
It was odd to shave another girl's fanny. It felt back-to-front, but Miranda was compliant, and soon the foam had been shaved away, leaving smooth pink skin. Miranda guided the water over her belly, the water washing away the residue.
"Kiss it now, slave."
Helene lent forward, feeling the soft, hairless skin beneath her lips. She wanted to explore with her tongue, but Miranda's hands were on her wet, blonde tresses. She was taking instruction: she knew her place.
"On either side."
The hands moved her head from either side of the small triangle of pubes, and then to the centre.
Helene felt the scratchy pubes, she experimentally licked the skin. It's much nicer, hairless, she thought, you can tell where you are...
Miranda's hands were applying a distinct downward pressure now. Helene's tongue slid through the slightly abrasive hair, and then found Miranda's little clitoris. She pulled her tongue in. Helene thought: "I might be her slave, but I'm going to make her say things aloud".
Her mouth closed over Miranda's pussy. She felt the cunt lips against her mouth, she pressed with her tongue, feeling them part beneath her, suddenly tasting the salty juice inside. Miranda was pulling her head tighter.
Helene looked up at her friend, meeting her eyes. She remembered, just a couple of weeks ago, looking down at Miranda eating her for the first time, and suddenly became aware of how wet her pussy had got, how hungry it was for the touch of fingers, of a mouth, how desperately it yearned for a hard cock pushing against it.
Still gazing into Miranda's eyes, she flicked at her salty clit, filling her mouth with the taste of Miranda's pussy. She licked the lips, sucked them into her mouth, found the clit, pushed on it with her tongue, squashing it down, then letting it free, growing suddenly bigger.
Helene could feel, could taste, could hear Miranda's growing excitement.
Miranda was breathing heavily.
"Make me cum, my beautiful girlfriend, eat me up."
Helene focussed on finding a rhythm. She was licking from near Miranda's asshole, licking from the bottom of the cunt to the top, all the way up to her clitoris in long, languid licks.
Miranda sagged down, opening her legs more.
"Finger, finger me too," she ordered.
Helene ran her fingers between Miranda's butt cheeks, finding the tight puckered asshole, pushing against it, slipping her fingertip in
"Faster, make me cum, NOW!"
Finger inside Miranda's ass, Helene stopped licking, just focussing on the hard, clitoris that was demanding her tongue. She swirled it around with her tongue and her lips, until her neck was aching with effort.
A final burst of warm pussy juice ran down Helene's chin, mingling with the hot water from the shower. Miranda groaned: a long, animal roar. She was almost suffocating Helene, so hard was she pulling her mouth against her cunt. Involuntarily, she raised her head, screaming with the orgasm.
As she came, her legs gave way, she slid to the floor, trying to catch her breath. Miranda spread her legs, playing with herself. The water was splashing on her belly and breasts.
She said: "I need to drink you now, sit over me, sit over my mouth, I want you to drip juice into me so I can drink you down, Helene."
Helene couldn't wait. She could feel her wetness, she could feel her arousal, the fire spreading around her body. She looked down at the wet and lustful Miranda, thought about spreading her legs over that pretty face and losing herself to that mouth - that mouth that would be so soon full of her love juice.
Helene swung her leg over Miranda's chest, and glanced up, looking towards the door of the shower room.
"What's that?" she asked.
"What's what?", Miranda replied without interest, "what kind of time is it to be asking questions?"
"That," Helene replied, "that little black circle under the shower head."
Miranda was stroking Helene's wet pussy, tantalizingly close to her face, parting the lips with her finger. She thought: "I wonder what she'd do if my tongue accidentally touched that perfect little asshole".
"We'll look later, just let me taste you."
Helene said: "no, it's weird, I want to know".
The blonde girl got unsteadily to her feet, and walked over to the wall. The small black circle in the wall had a slightly glassy finish to it.
"What do you think?"
Miranda slouched over to the wall.
"It's new," she said, definitively, "that wasn't there before. Don't think you'd ever notice it unless you were on the floor looking up..."
"Not a novelty for this room."
Helene said, seriously: "it's a camera lens, it's got to be."
"Don't be so paranoid."
"Well, what else would it be? It's not like it's a light-sensor, it'd be nearer the door. What's behind this wall?"
Miranda thought for a moment.
"There's a cleaner's cupboard, I think."
The two girls looked at each other. Helene shrugged.
"We've got all day, nice for you to owe me for a change."
The girls slipped into their pyjamas, took away the impromptu door jam and stepped out into the corridors of Alice House. It was completely silent, there were no girls, no cleaners, no house-mistresses. It felt uncanny.
Miranda was right, there was a cleaner's cupboard in the corridor, but it was locked. The girls felt frustrated.
Helene pointed to the ceiling. The corridors of their House were institutional, with years worth of paint covering everything. Old wires, Tannoy leads and pipes were a universal beige.
Except for one, thin black cable.
The girls looked at each other.
The cable ran along near the ceiling, partially concealed by the old fixtures. It turned the corner towards the rec room, and suddenly plunged towards the floor.
Miranda said: "well that's that then," but Helene said: "don't be silly, there's a cellar, but you can't get to it from inside."
The girls went out the front door, but rather than walk down the path in their pyjamas. Helene took Miranda's hand and led her into the shrubbery that surrounded the house.
She turned, raised a finger to her mouth: "there's a door here..."
The door was unlocked, and although unpainted and scruffy, it swung open easily. Nervously, the girls entered the darkness, Helene leading, trying to find her way down the stairs.
Miranda said: "I don't like this."
Helene turned and made a face: "there's something down here, I can hear it," she whispered.
The bottom of the cellar was completely black. The girls stood at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for their eyes to get used to the dark. Helene surprised her by being braver, resisting Miranda's subtle tugs on her hand. After a few minutes, Helene became aware of a faint light, glowing beneath a door on the far side of the cellar. She walked stealithly over the floor, careful to not make any noise. Miranda walked behind her, feeling conspicuous in her pyjamas.
The door was half-open, and the girls looked cautiously through the gap.
Lit by a blue light, a young man was sitting in front of several computer screens. Most were turned off, but one was flickering, and Helene could hear the unmistakeable sounds of sex. The man was leaning back in his chair, watching the screen intently.
Miranda mouthed: "who is it?"
Helene shrugged, then opened her eyes wide.
"Mr Michaels," she said silently, "the new IT guy."
Helene nodded: that figured, she thought.
Michaels leaned forward and clicked on a keyboard. Making Helene and Miranda jump, he said: "so, what's new girlies?"
A new image filled the screen. This one was clear and close up. To their horror, the girls could clearly see themselves in close-up. Helene was blurred, kissing Miranda's neck. The man groaned: "oh, you dirty girls, you dirty dirty girls, I knew it...."
The screen flickered. They could see Miranda standing against the wall, her dark hair stuck to her face, clasping Helene's head, her fingers intertwined with her girlfriend's blonde hair. The sound was subdued, but the moans of pleasure were still clear and distinct. Michaels shuffled in his chair, his trousers dropping to the floor. The schoolgirls heard him groan with pleasure as he wrapped his hand around his cock.
"What did you get up to?" he said, fast-forwarding the video, "you slutty catholic schoolgirls, you never did a filthy sixty-nine in the showers, oh, you deserve punishment...."
He was wanking himself now, thrusting against the air with each stroke. When Miranda's orgasm rippled through the speakers, the girls thought he was going to shoot his load, but he was saving himself.
Suddenly he stopped: "oh shit," he said.
In the video, Helene was staring at the lens, her face and fingers magnified. Then Miranda.
"Shit shit shit," Michaels said.
He stood up, looking anxious.
Mr Michaels was the youngest of the male staff members - he wasn't a real teacher, but a new graduate, come to "learn the ropes". Tall and willowy, he fumbled awkwardly as he turned around, struggling to get his cock back in his trousers.
He saw the girls standing in the doorway.
"Oh," he said, half-heartedly.
Helene and Miranda were speechless. Miranda was the first to find her tongue. She said: "you filmed us! you put a camera in the shower and you filmed us! and you sat there, wanking yourself off! You are going to be so fired!"
She turned as if to go, dragging Helene with her.
Michaels begged: "no, please, anything, I'll do anything."
Miranda said: "Nurse Bishop, I think. She's still here."
She added: "she'll probably get the police, they'll probably take you away in handcuffs."