How to Train Your Daughter Ch. 12a

Abigail blinked. She glanced at Mr. Desilva despite herself, who merely gave her a tiny, reassuring smile with his kind eyes and a nod to encourage her to continue, and her heart leapt to her throat as she realized she would be letting him see her without a shirt on, in only her bra.

'Yes, sir. Um, but, I'll get a proper blouse to wear, right? I won't have to go to class...in just...in just my...'

Dr. Andrew chuckled.

'Yes, yes, dear girl, Mr. Desilva will get you all the clothing you need. Don't worry about a thing. Come now, we haven't all day.'

Abigail gulped, reminding herself that she was a good girl, and that she had known there would be many things to get used to in moving here with her family, and that she'd promised her father she'd do her very best to embrace the customs in their new home and become a good American girl.

It was clear that this was one of those times she needed to be a big girl and do something that was a little hard for her, and she resolved to rise to the occasion and make her father proud; she'd soon be fully dressed again, and even if it was a little embarrassing to take off her shirt in front of the men, it wasn't like she was actually getting naked. She was still wearing more than she would at the beach.

Despite taking a moment to internally shore up her resolve, this time her fingers tended to stumble, rather than dance, as they made their way from button to button.

Her fingertips felt like wood, and the buttons of her blouse were much smaller and more numerous than those of her cardigan, making for a truly tortuous process.

Though Dr. Andrew and Mr. Desilva maintained the most professional and dispassionate of demeanors, their experienced eyes evincing only the slightest impatience with her hesitance as they watched her closely, she was painfully aware of the mounting pleasure each undone button must be providing the men, like the ascending scales at which she struggled so mightily at the piano, as the white cotton fabric fell open across her throat, then revealed the delicate depression between her collar bones, then the soft twin rises of her breasts as they crested her bra, and finally unveiled her kissably smooth white tummy with each successive fumbling release.

She realized to her horror that the progressive escalation of her exposure was mirrored by the state of her cunny, which seemed to have a mind of its own now. Each time one of the tiny white mother of pearl discs slipped reluctantly from the grasp of its delicate reciprocal slit, her girl bits released another gentle pulse of warm honey, growing ever more awash with her body's instinctive awareness of its own sexual necessity and the inescapable presence of two mature, full-testicled males, and preparing to be mated by drenching itself with a seemingly unending supply of her sweet, fresh girl nectar.

Her cheeks flushed and her eyes downcast, she tugged her blouse from the waistband of her skirt and slipped it from her shoulders, and folded it and placed it upon her cardigan next to Dr. Andrew, who stopped her before she could return to her place in front of him.

'...And actually, Miss Abigail, our pupils do not wear hose or leggings while at school; additionally, your skirt is unacceptable. It's the wrong color, and it is far too long to be considered appropriate for a girl your age to wear in general, let alone for a Stonewall Academy student to parade about in while on campus; let's go ahead and remove it as well, please, and Mr. Desilva will get you an acceptable replacement before you go to class.'

As Dr. Andrew's inspection had progressed, the knot in Abigail's tummy had anticipated this instruction; she couldn't help but notice when she arrived at school this morning that all the other girls wore simple navy blue pleated skirts, and their legs were bare above their heeled Mary Janes.

The premonition that she'd have to surrender all of her clothing but her underthings did not, unfortunately, make the news any easier to hear, and as she set her chin resolutely and reached behind herself to loosen her skirt's zipper, she whispered a quiet prayer of thanks that this was at least the end of her uniform inspection, and that now Mr. Desilva would get her a new uniform and she could feel decent again.

After carefully folding her skirt and rolling up her panty hose, and placing them tidily atop her other clothing on the desk at Dr. Andrew's side, she took a step back and stood in front of him once more in nothing but her panties and bra, reminding herself that she was still at least as covered as when wearing a swimsuit—more so, in fact, as her choice of underthings was conservative by any standard of fashion; and she felt a bit better as she squared her shoulders with a little smile and prepared for Dr. Andrew to begin her physical.

Her willing gaze was met, however, by a pair of consternated looks on the two men's faces, and she looked down at herself in perplexity, wondering what on earth they saw to garner such a response.

'I'm so sorry I don't have the right clothes, Dr. Andrew,' she rushed to apologize, casting a woeful eye at her sad little pile of offending garments on his desk. 'I promise, I'll wear whatever Mr. Desilva gets for me. I really wasn't trying to be difficult or break the rules!'

Dr. Andrew looked her up and down for a few moments, his brow furrowed, then checked his watch before glancing at Mr. Desilva.

'I have some appointments back at my office that I must attend to soon. She has obviously had no instruction on her uniform requirements, and I don't have time right now to continue explaining them if I am to complete her physical. Can I trust you to ensure she understands her responsibilities regarding her underwear when you outfit her from the supply room, so I can at least properly sign off on her health card before I head out?'

Ryan nodded and assured Dr. Andrew he would see to it. He perceived that Abigail was flustered, and she was so very cute as she stood there uncertainly in her undies, a lovely rosy glow covering much of her creamy skin and her giant soulful eyes pleading with him to spare her dignity further damage.

Her mannerisms bespoke a sensitive, intelligent girl who wanted only to understand and to please, and he rightly guessed that she was probably more embarrassed by the exposure of her ignorance concerning proper social norms in her new home than by the actual physical exposure of her body to the two men.

He couldn't deny her attractiveness either, and the irresistible combination of her tender body, her haunting, windswept prairie features, and the gentle agitation of her spirit made him want to both wrap her close in his arms and assure her everything would be fine, and also to fuck her to bits while losing himself in the deep pools of her indigo eyes until he'd emptied himself completely in the sacred depths of her soft, fertile young loins—preferably at the same time.

Abigail was greatly taken aback by Dr. Andrew's comments; her choice of underwear had never been a topic of concern or discussion at her school back home in Ontario, and she was accustomed to wearing whatever she liked under her school uniform.

She certainly never chose her most intimately personal garments with a view to showing them to strangers; they were rather one of her little secret pleasures in which she allowed herself to indulge, and it made her feel special and cute to know that beneath her schoolgirl uniform—exactly alike as it was, by design, to every other girl's in her class—she wore a colorful bit of herself that no one knew about.

Her bra was a substantial piece in a plain and somewhat pointedly unflattering taupe, made to fully cover her ample, growing breasts; she never would have selected it this morning if she'd known she would be displaying it for the appreciation of two male strangers, and she gritted her teeth as she realized how unsexy it made her feel.

Her panties appeared to be her treat for herself, and while they were of an almost painfully sensible cut which did nothing to flatter her young nether regions, and tragically covered nearly all of what appeared to be a rather juicy little bottom, they were of a girlish pink-and-white check, with discrete lace trim and a tiny pink bow in the center of her waistband.

Abigail's relief at Mr. Desilva's promise to fully explain the uniform requirements was heady; she couldn't believe she was going to get to spend time alone with the attractive teacher, even if it was for a somewhat embarrassing reason.

She was definitely ready to put her clothes back on now so Dr. Andrew could perform her physical—if it was like her last checkup back home, he'd just take her blood pressure and temperature, and shine his little light in her ears—and she began to reach for her skirt on the desk, when Dr. Andrew turned back to her and saw her furtive movement, and stopped her with a trace of amusement in his stern voice.

'Ah, ah, ah, Miss Abigail—in short, your bra and panties are also completely inappropriate for a girl your age, and so I'm going to have to ask you to please surrender them to me as well. It's all for the best in any case, as I need you naked in order to do your physical exam.'

Abigail thought she would die as she heard Dr. Andrew's words echo hollowly from a vast distance, and she wished the cold hardwood floor of the nurse's office would open up and swallow her now; her worst fears were coming true, and it appeared that she would indeed have to bare herself completely in front of the doctor and Mr. Desilva, who, even just this morning alone, had doubtless seen many naked young girls' bodies far more attractive than hers.

She chided herself in the midst of her rising anxiousness; he was a teacher, and she had no business even fantasizing about him liking her in that way. He was just doing his job, and whether he thought her body was nice or not was certainly irrelevant; this fact did little, unfortunately, to make her feel less embarrassed about what she was now being told to do.

She was devastated to hear, after already struggling to overcome the mortification of being made to expose her little secrets to her teacher and the doctor, that her underthings were unacceptable at Stonewall Academy, and that the men wanted her to remove them at once.

There was no escape, however, and with only a slight tremble of her hands, she reached behind her back and unclasped her bra, drawing the straps slowly down her shoulders and freeing her breasts reluctantly from the soft, warm cups.

Her breasts were very lovely. She was lightly complected; her pale skin was nearly luminous, and the firm fullness of her ample bosoms meant her rich blue veins were visible beneath the surface, all feeding circulation to a pair of healthy nipples that were not much darker a shade than the rest of her body.

The room seemed suddenly chill, and her breasts immediately erupted into a riot of goosebumps and crinkled, stiff nipples, which absurdly felt to her as if they doubled their normal size as they grew shamelessly erect and proud in the cool air, and under the men's even cooler gaze.

Her coloring meant that her giant, troubled blue eyes shone even more brightly, framed by her long brunette hair and her strong brows. She was very beautiful.

'Please, Dr. Andrew...sir...can I please...please...keep just my panties on?'

Dr. Andrew shook his head, his toe lightly tapping the floor with a quiet, crisp impatience.

'No, dear girl, you may not, and we don't have all day. Please remove your knickers immediately and place them here with your other clothing beside me, and let Mr. Desilva and I have a look at your whole body.'

Abigail's face fell as she tried to come to terms with the reality of her situation.

Everything had been so strange and scary and new since moving last week, and she was far from accustomed to the way girls were raised and trained here.

Her family had had a long talk before deciding to relocate, and her father had carefully explained how different things would be in the US; while she was doing her very best to embrace the staggering cultural differences, she was honestly still struggling at times to reconcile herself to her new place in life, and the responsibilities that came with being an eligible girl in this society.

A first day at a new school was scary and uncomfortable for any girl, but this morning was truly a discomfiting start to a Monday, and as she fidgeted with the lacey waistband of her panties and snuck another glance at Mr. Desilva, petrified of baring herself completely to him, her eyes welled and she choked back a little sob.

Ryan felt just a little bad for her; he could only imagine how strange and scary it might be for a young girl to come to this country having never been properly educated on her natural duties, and never having been accustomed to anything close to the level of access men would have to her body from now on.

She'd get used to it soon enough, however; it was simply a matter of re-training her to understand how natural it was for her to share her body in this way, and he was confident that in no time at all she'd adapt and begin to thrive in her lessons. He looked forward to contributing as best he could to her education.

He gave her another little smile and nod.

'Miss Abigail, you've really been doing a great job so far,' he reassured her. 'I can imagine this is a little unusual for you, but we're almost done, and if you'll take off your panties for us, we can finish up that much quicker and get you back in some clothes.'

Abigail's heart leapt at his words, and she was surprised to feel herself gain a bit of self-possession in the face of his understanding; her head cleared a little, and despite yet another addling tingle of want in her cunny, she grasped the waistband of her panties and slowly pulled them down her thighs, stepping out of them in as ladylike a manner as she could, and twisting and contorting her body in her endearing attempts to pick them up from the floor without obscenely displaying her most secret bits to the men.

Dr. Andrew and Ryan enjoyed observing her efforts. Her dark hair fell richly across her bare back and shoulders, and a delectable crease of puppy fat beckoned for their touch as she bent; her breasts swayed and swung weightily as she stood and folded the pink scrap of cloth carefully.

She was viscerally aware of the total access these men would now have to her body's most delicate, sensitive, and personal of areas; yet she could only marvel inwardly at her utter helplessness in the grip of an unyielding feminine instinct as she nevertheless absurdly gathered her panties with her bra and hid them from sight as carefully as she did incongruously deep in her folded skirt, in full view the entire time, naturally, of the two waiting men, before once again returning to her place in front of Dr. Andrew's chair, her bosom rising and falling with her short breaths as the men silently appraised her, naked now except for her headband.

To her unending mortification, her acquiescent nakedness was greeted with gentle, slightly incredulous chuckles.

'Well, well, well,' Dr. Andrew said, 'I don't know the last time I saw such a fierce bush! That is quite the thicket you have down there, Miss Abigail.'

She had never groomed her private parts in any way and was completely unshaven, and her dark, thick pubic hair was indeed untamed and as impressive as it was wild. Abigail's conservative upbringing had never involved teaching her any reason to fuss with it, and she had only recently discovered that she was the exception to the rule in her new country.

'Not to worry; Mr. Desilva will help you deal with that as well once we're finished here, and teach you a little about how to present your vulva and pubic area as a student here at Stonewall.'

He pushed his spectacles up on the bridge of his nose in order to see better, and pulled her a little closer to him with a hand on the smooth recurve of her bare waist.

Abigail reflexively froze at the unfamiliarity of his hand's first contact with her body, but Dr. Andrew was no amateur when it came to handling girls, and he paid her no mind, his confident, masterful touch easily overcoming her instinctive skittishness and compelling her to follow his lead.

'Now let me take a good look at you, young lady. I'll be inspecting for any signs of ill health, noting any distinguishing marks or characteristics, and familiarizing myself with your body; as your school physician, it's vital that I know the landscape in detail, so to speak, so I can better notice any abnormalities later on when treating you.'

He ran his hands over her body, feeling the weight and firmness of her breasts, checking the sensitivity of her nipples, and exploring her cunny, his big fingers thrusting into the darkness of her bush to feel for any irregularities along her outer lips.

Ryan, following along with his clipboard, noted the vibrant flash of pink that hinted of wonderful riches hidden beneath her fur, and filled in the boxes on Abigail's intake sheet denoting the description of her various body parts.

'Very nice breasts,' Dr. Andrew said, dictating his observations to Ryan, and taking one lovely curve of girlflesh in each hand and pushing them together in order to compare their symmetry and account for any significant differences in color or marking.

'Good development for her age, and actually quite excellent fullness...very lightly-colored nipples—responsive, and become easily erect—relatively large, though quite faint, areolas...'

Ryan carefully transcribed the doctor's comments in Abigail's file, paying close attention to his technique.

'...Light scattering of freckles across upper chest. Healthy teeth, gums, and tongue—Miss Abigail, please suck on my finger as hard as you can—that's it, good girl—student displays vigorous, healthy suction reflex; Desilva, observe her strong esophageal contractions along her throat here, indicating she'll be a good candidate for advanced deepthroat lessons. Please make a note of that in her records.'

Abigail was in a daze; this was happening quite fast, and all she could do was comply as best she could with Dr. Andrew's instructions.

'...not particularly athletic figure, but well within healthy parameters of muscle and body fat—do you play sports, Miss Abigail? No, I thought not—smooth, soft belly, with what appears to be a quite lovely, full mons veneris—one of a number of delightful benefits furnished by a little extra fat on a girl, Mr. Desilva—though it's difficult to say with certainty under all this hair; I might ask that you verify this and note it in her file after you clean her up, please...'

With a firm grip on her arm, he turned her to face away from him, one hand lifting her hair from the nape of her neck while the other explored her back and her plump bottom.

'...Two small moles on left shoulder...tidy, round buttocks with a slight, soft hang to them—very attractive crease at the top where they join together with the small of her back...'

Ryan's cock was extremely hard as he tried to pay attention to his duties while being continually diverted by the adorable little body in front of him; Abigail's bottom was indeed quite cute, with a gentle softness to it that beckoned his hand to slip between her small buttocks to explore the warm darkness inside.

Dr. Andrew instructed Abigail to bend at the waist and spread her butt cheeks, and as she did, her face an agonized shade of pink, he exclaimed with astonishment at the state of her genitals.

'Goodness sakes, this is one of the soppiest young vaginas I have ever seen,' he laughed, attempting to recover his composure and continue his inspection with the medical impartiality it required.