A Sissy Saga Ch. 18

Desperate to find some other distraction she headed for the gymnasium where Jennifer was entertaining Lady Diana. Hardwick had been told to take his class outside to free-up the facilities, and her daughter, her vicegerent in that days business, was in charge of her visitor.

They were the only people present when she arrived. Jennifer, dressed in skirt and high-heels stood out in high contrast to Diana. The lady of Chance Hall was wearing the schoolgirl gym-kit of blue serge knickers and white singlet, and was looking rather hot-eyed and tearful as she ran back and forth across the room. Her unhappiness probably had a lot to do with the way her vest had been looped up over her handsome bare breasts, and the fact that the juddering breasts themselves appeared pink and sore, as if they had recently been the target for several sharp smacks.

Miriam recalled how Diana, her face flushed with embarrassment, had pleaded not to be given over to the stern attentions of Jennifer, whom she considered a mere child. Being disciplined by a girl half her own age would humiliate her terribly, she'd said, but Miriam had explained that humiliation was part of the process she wished to inflict, and she must submit to anyone nominated to take her own place.

"I've tried exercising her ladyship, but she's absolutely useless in the gymnasium, mummy." Jennifer remarked testily when she arrived. "She can't climb ropes, can't jump higher than a daisy, and she runs around with her hands flapping like a pregnant fairy. I've had to hound her from start to finish."

Diana obeyed a curt signal to join them, then stood self-consciously in front of the headmistress at subservient attention, hung her head and gazed dismally at the floor.

Miriam grabbed her chin and pulled her face up. "I need cheering up your ladyship, and I know you have connections with the Prime Minister's office, so I've been giving some thought to the New Years Honours List. I want you to propose me for something. An OBE will be good enough for the moment, it will add to the prestige of the school if I've a few initials behind my name."

Diana looked startled. "B-but headmistress, I-I'd need to qualify such a recommendation, and I-I..."

"Invent some appropriate fiction, you've always been good at doing that." Miriam snapped in bad temper. She half turned away, then turned back. "And while you're at it, and since you're involved with The National Trust, get them to stop challenging Albert Fairyfield's last will and testament."

The other woman quaked slightly. "A will? A bequest? I'm only a patron to the Trust, I just attend an occasional banquet. I don't have anything to do with its administration. I don't actually DO anything."

"Really? Well, you're going to have to change the habit of a lifetime milady, because its my home they're threatening to take from me, and if I end up suffering you're going to suffer along with me."

"Honestly, Mir ... Headmistress, I'd help if I could, but contesting legal things will be managed by a department quite separate from anything I know about."

Miriam's strong slender fingers grasped her by the hair, hauling her head back and making her wince, then she leaned forward until their faces were only inches apart. All the venom she'd pent up during her meeting with Pamela Upduff was now vented on Diana.

"You've always been fond of crowing about the influence you can exert on events, so start putting it to some use. Threaten people. Lie, cheat, charm them, but do something. Murder them, you useless bitch. Kidnap their children or seduce them, but get them to quosh all their thieving, legal rigmarole, you fucking ratbag."

The impact of her temper shook Diana forcibly. There was sufficient violence in her eyes to make her aristocratic pride evaporate and she became ashen white, staring in horror, her bare breasts shaking while her hands clenched and unclenched. For a moment she thought she was going to be sick, but suddenly Miriam's voice took on a more consolatory tone.

"Afterwards, if you're successful, I'll give you the photographs that cause you such embarrassment, and you'll free never to come here again. But as sure as eggs are eggs if I lose my school you'll lose your reputation, so you'd better think carefully before you insist on saying you can't help me."

Jennifer moved up beside Diana and pulled the distraught aristocrat nearer as her mother stormed out through the door, and purposely neglectful of offering an explanation she smoothed her fingers up the back of her legs. Her hand slid high, stroking across the seat of the woman's pants, dallying in the crease between her cheeks and then tickling at the insides of her thighs.

"Mummy's upset. I think it would be wise to try and help her, don't you?" she said.

"Yes, yes. Okay, oh god yes - absolutely - of course - no problem. I promise to try." Diana replied heatedly. She made a move to pull the singlet down to cover her breasts but Jennifer stopped her with a sharp "No."

She saw the woman's lips begin to part, and sensed excitement welling up inside her. She wouldn't give in too easily, but for her that was part of the thrill. The struggling against the inevitable, the humiliation of knowing that she was going to lose.

"Be a good girl and do as you're told. Don't haul the singlet down, take it off."

Diana's eyes widened. "Why?"

"Just do as I say." Jennifer said, petulantly. She kept her eyes unwavering, staring at her. She would respond to that, she seemed to like a bit of authority.

Diana licked her lips and opened her mouth to speak again, but then thought better of it and hoisted the flimsy garment over her head. Her breasts juddered deliciously as she dropped her arms to her side. "You aren't going to smack my tits again, are you? They're still feeling sore from last time."

The daughter of the headmistress purposely kept her intentions obscure. For a moment she played outrageously with the woman's naked breasts, smoothing her fingers over the warm skin and testing the pliancy of each fleshy orb, her hands going around and under, kneading, stroking clutching, making Diana arch her back and clutch at air, until in desperation she cried out. "Jennifer, I'm not a lesbian."

Jennifer took a step back and pouted. "So I understand. But you'll do as a girl tells you while you're with me. Get your pants off."

Diana looked at her and started to shake her head slowly, as if she couldn't believe what was happening. Jennifer waited, giving her time to think about it, then harried her in a soft, velvet voice. "Diana, I'm going to count to three, and if those knickers aren't down to your ankles by the time I've finished..."

The woman seemed to tremble, and her lower lip quivered and on her face was the beginnings of a renewed pink flush, flooding just under her eyes. Her eyelashes fluttered nervously and she started backing away.

For a moment Jennifer teased her with silence. Then: "One."

The woman nibbled her lips.

"Two." There was a slight hesitant movement by Diana, but not nearly quick enough to please the girl. Just for a moment Jennifer remained in surly concentration, then her limbs galvanised into motion. Before Diana could blink twice a hand shot up to clamp around her jawbone in a grip she found impossible to shake off. Jennifer's palm became firmly locked under her chin as the claw of her fingers squeezed her face.

Once she'd got the woman immobile with her head wedged between her hands Jennifer leaning against her and ran a finger down the side of her neck. "I've done judo, y'know. I've got medals for it. I'm touching your mastoid muscle with my finger at this moment. It protects the carotid artery, which supplies blood and oxygen to the brain. If I move the muscle aside and apply pressure to the artery, here, you'll be unconscious in five seconds and a dead duck in half a minute."

Diana began to panic. This was not what she'd expected, and nor did she have a clue about how to spin out of the steely grip that was frightening her. Jennifer Hancock had become a crazed thing. There was madness in her demon-dark eyes and a maniacal expression on her face, and she was strong - she was terribly strong. She was capable of doing as she said. She was capable of anything.

Full of dread she reached for her pants, and little by little the elastic of her schoolgirl knickers was dragged down from her waist. Then came the slither as they dropped from her hips and descended to her knees.

"Down they come. Down, down, down." encouraged Jennifer, "You don't need them," she told Diana, patting her trembling bottom, "I think you agree, don't you?"

"Oh - yes, Jennifer."

"Yes of course you do. You're a big girl now, you know your own mind."

"Yes, Jennifer." Diana stood stock still and a funny little feeling floated around inside her tummy as she allowed them to fall to her ankles. There she stood. Apart from her gym-shoes she was now utterly naked and displaying a curvaceous body that was as smooth as a billiard ball.

Jennifer put her hand around the woman's hips, then a hand slipped under one cheek of her bottom, cupping its weight, patting, fondling. Diana didn't move away. Her bottom felt warm and solid in her palm. She breathed out, heavily and slowly, and seemed to moved back onto it.

"What a pity a big girl like you as to be treated like a little girl, eh?"

"Um - y-yes Jennifer."

She provide a keen wallop with the flat of her hand and Diana sagged. "Yes of course. Mummy was rather short with you, and rather brutal. Pulling your hair as if you were a naughty little girl." A gentle pat on the bare rump. "At least she didn't cane you. You've not been caned yet, have you? Do you want the cane?"

Diana had a job making her words come out. "N-no, not really."

"No, and there's no reason why you should be caned. You're a lady and you're not used to it, and you've been a good girl so far. But we haven't quite finished and I may have to cane you before the end."

"Tell you what - since mummy was so nasty to you I'll let you have some fun. IF you agree and make a good job of it, and if you're a VERY good girl - I'll let you off with the cane. All right?"

Diana grabbed at the chance. Nodding with enthusiasm. If there was one thing she dreaded it was getting caned, and she especially dreaded the prospect of being caned by a girl nearly half her own age.

"I want none of your virginal modesty. You'll do exactly as I tell you. Okay?"

Diana brushed her hair nervously with one hand. "Yes, yes. Okay." She sounded anxious, which was good.

"You're hopeless in the gym, so next time you come here we'll try a little cross-country run. Just five miles to begin with."

"But - I don't run. I don't run anywhere. I always have a car if I go more than a mile."

"You'll run for me if you don't want your bum the colour of a tomato, madam."

Giving her a blizzard of stinging smacks as a minor demonstration she was told to climb down onto her knees. "Hands on head, Diana." Jennifer told her as she went off to find a chair. Sitting down and elegantly draping one leg over the other a strange smile lingered on her face.

"Kneel in front of me... " she demanded, flexing her foot at the subservient woman's smoothly shaven thighs, "...then straggle my shoe."

A flush of uncertainty glowed on Diana's face and her hesitancy brought a swift response from the teenager. "Do as I say or I'll cane your tits as well as your bottom, you over-privileged, useless cow."

Diana wilted and awkwardly shuffled forward to mount her self on the pointy toe of the girls shoe. She wasn't sure what was happening and caught a sharp breath as the hard patent leather dug into her soft, intimate parts.

"I'm not often so obliging," Jennifer remarked glibly, "but today I'm feeling magnanimous, so as long as you're not too long-winded about it you may jerk yourself off with my foot."

Lady Diana's face burned hot and she was loath to admit to the tingle in her swollen clitoris. How could the girl - not much more than a stripling juvenile - expect her to humiliate herself in such a shameless way?

The answer was obvious. She'd already allowed her to smack her bottom and her breasts, and she'd made no forceful protest when the girls inquisitive fingers had undressed her and touched her up. She wasn't altogether happy about that and felt bound to say something. "Jennifer, I'm not a lesbian."

The girl remained unimpressed. "So you keep saying. But even if you're not you'll do as I wish. You're not as pure white as you like to paint yourself.

Diana's face fell. "If anyone ever finds out what happens when I come here, I'm..."

"Blah, blah, blah," Jennifer offered her no sympathy. " I've put up with your whinging all afternoon, woman. Okay, I get it. It will ruin your life. Everyone will hate you. It's not fair. Etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. Now shut the fuck up about it."

The woman stopped talking abruptly as Jennifer gripped her chin and brushed some strands of hair from her eyes. "Don't start being awkward, Diana. You don't want the cane - do you?"

Diana shook her head as she heard her own distant voice emit a hoarse, croaky "N-no...No, Jennifer." She didn't, not one little bit.

The toe of the shoe twitched and nudged her straining clitoris, tormenting her with a touch of sensual electricity and changing her protests into subtle little moans.

"There. It's rather stirred you up I think." Jennifer mused, "I bet it's beginning to feel quite pleasant, isn't it?"

"Oh - oh, yes Jennifer." Diana's thighs seemed to melt and she began to pant and squirm down on the hard point of the shoe. Yes, suddenly it was feeling utterly wonderful. Could it be that the humiliation was exciting her?

Her tormentor put on a pretence of being thoughtful. "Em! Perhaps I'm being too stern. Maybe I'm demanding too much of you. Have you had enough? Do you want to stop?"

Diana rolled her eyes dementedly. "Oh please...no... no... please Jennifer... oh... don't... oh don't..."

"You're making my shoe quite sopping, girl. Are you sure?"

Her ladyship groaned. "No - not now - don't m-make me stop yet - please." Damn the girl. She was teasing her. She knew very well she didn't want to finish yet. She couldn't call a stop until the tingle between her legs had developed into a mighty explosion.

Her bottom wormed in her torment and her thighs spread wider and more eagerly. Her heated breath pumped from her mouth in rapid little gasps and she had an impulse to grasp the shoe and heave and scrape solidly against it.

Jennifer seemed to read her mind. "Keep your hands on your head Diana - and DO get your porky little clit' to show some urgency about this or we'll be here until suppertime."

Then Diana's pelvis began to plunge and jive as she frantically dragged her slushy wet vagina back and forth across the toe of the girls shoe, carefully ensuring her throbbing clitoris sawed purposefully against its hard tip. "Ooh, Jennifer - oooh, yes. I'm trying to hurry. Oooh, thank you Jennifer. Thank you."

***

That evening Miriam Hancock called everyone into the staff common-room to explain the kind of threat Fairyfield Grange was now under. At the start her words were ordinary enough and it wasn't the first time she'd used similar ones, but everyone could see that this time she was truly concerned. They had worked with her long enough to know every phase of her reaction to practically every kind of situation and they could tell that whatever the trouble was, this time it was bad.

She didn't actually say the school would close if the National Trust took control, but the air of gloom that followed her opening statement told her they all knew what it would mean. It would mean Fairyfield would become nothing more than a venue for visiting tourists.

"Of course I intend to fight like blazes to keep things as they are, but I must survive, and if I fail I must find thirty-thousand pounds each year just to remain here."

"No school?" mouthed Mrs Pardoe in stupefied horror. "I've always worked with young people. I don't know anything about doing other kind of work."

"Even if the worse comes to the worse there will still be a requirement for staff here," Miriam added in an attempt to mollify, "There will be a need for various tour-guides and assistants." She gazed down at the table around which they had all gathered. "Of course I can't guarantee the kind of salaries such posts will merit and that may cause some of you concern."

Emma Twist slumped in her chair. "Ice-cream kiosks and souvenir shops? I couldn't stay here if they turn the place into a funfair. I'll go. I'll just go."

She stared fixedly at her hands and no one else moved for a moment. Then Hardwick leaned forward. "It may not be so bad. The Grange could be used as a conference centre in the closed season. Lot's of places do that. Medical conferences for instance, paediatricians for example. Children's health is all the rage lately."

"Or a rural craft show," suggested matron, trying to warm to the subject of alternatives. "There's battalions of potters and weavers who'd want to come here. Yorkshire's stiff with people doing things with their hands."

"Most of 'em are wanking." Mrs Pardoe said glumly.

Matron tried again. "A music festival then. How about that? We could have a rock festival in the grounds at Halloween and Christmas."

"You've forgotten what winter on the Yorkshire moors is like, matron. It's proper arctic sometimes." Gloria put in.

Matron tutted. "Well at other times of the year then. Goodness, are we completely bereft of imagination?"

"Such affairs inevitably turn into drug-fests." remarked Hardwick, gloomily shaking his head.

"Tourists, eh?" Gloria chipped in again thoughtfully. "I wonder if them Nationalists have had a proper look at the roof-line yet. Them carvin's up there will have to be screened else they'll have some old pensioners chokin' on their peppermints."

Miss Hancock looked at her watch. It was 8-0-clock and the pupils had been without any supervision except that provided by Jennifer for half an hour, while the debate in the common-room was beginning to deteriorate.

"Nothing's going to happen before the end of term," she said fiercely, "The legal business won't get a ruling for weeks, and since my Uncle Albert was pretty gaga much of the time before he popped his clogs his will is certain to contain some ambiguities that could turn in my favour. I want our routines here to continue as normal until the outcome is known, and that includes preparations for Open Day. So let's get back to work."

***

The following day Miriam was surprised when the sun had the nerve to shine. She felt older than her years, and although she'd always prided herself on being a pragmatist her mind had become a desert lately. She knew that all that could be done was being done, and all she could do now was try to live through it.

Seeking to get away from the Grange for a morning and find some distraction from the threat the National Trust presented, she accompanied Gloria into Peasmarsh, and whilst the housekeeper was employed in Larkin's placing the grocery order she wandered across the street to Moffet's tea-rooms.

It was Saturday, and the village was a paradigm of rural Yorkshire. Small grey houses and church bells at practise. Cobblestones. Blue sky. The smell of beer and lunch. Moffet's was invariably crowded at mid morning. Not because of any great multitude of customers, but because it was so small that any more than a dozen people made it chock-a-block.

Not being a frequent visitor she knew few of the people there, but she nodded stiffly to Mrs Tichborne and her lodger, a rather dazed looking young student schoolteacher called Eleanor Merrydew, and she also acknowledged the old man who worked in the shoe shop, a middle-aged spinster she'd seen around, and the pale dyspeptic-looking man who worked at the post-office.