How to Train Your Daughter Ch. 12b

Many thanks to all my readers; your letters and comments and ideas and hopes mean a lot to me, and do much to enrich the little world of the Festival.

If you're not familiar with the previous chapters, I might recommend at least reading chapter 2, which is a short explanation of this world; long-time readers will doubtless find that their explorations have rewards strewn throughout this episode as well, however, and chapters 5, 6, and 9 will certainly add color to one's appreciation of this one.

I love to hear from my readers; write me anytime about anything, and I'd love to correspond. Just remember to include your email in the message if you'd like a reply.

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(Continued from Ch. 12a)

...Slowly she rose to the surface again as if from a great depth, her body weightless and carried on gentle, warm currents rippling periodically from deep inside her most secret places.

The light grew brighter and the sound of the men's voices grew louder and clearer as she heard them discussing her exemplary orgasmic response, and Dr. Andrew's pen scritched officiously across her paperwork, authorizing her to attend classes at Stonewall and to receive sexual lessons from its teaching staff at their discretion; finally, she was cast gently ashore again as Mr. Desilva slipped his fingers from her happy vagina, and she found herself lying naked, trembling, and soaked between her legs on the table in front of the two men.

Dr. Andrew helped the young girl sit up, and Ryan offered her a handkerchief that he'd retrieved from his suit pocket, monogrammed with his initials, so she could shakily clean herself between her legs.

'It was good to meet you, Miss Abigail,' Dr. Andrew said, 'I'm confident you'll do well here at Stonewall. Mr. Desilva will take you now to civilize that thicket around your privates, and then get you properly attired from the storeroom.'

Abigail nodded and thanked him for all his help, and began to reach for her clothing where it lay folded on the nurse's desk. Not waiting for her to dress, however, Mr. Desilva had already opened the door to the hallway, which buzzed with activity now between classes, and he beckoned her to join him, paying no heed to her nakedness and the students and teachers walking by the open doorway.

Abigail, still muzzy-headed and a little delicate after her intense and unexpected orgasm, startled and yelped in alarm, instinctively covering her breasts with her forearm and clutching her panties in front of her cunny, looking to Dr. Andrew for help; but he simply continued sorting the files of the other schoolgirls he'd inspected this morning, and told her to leave her things and hurry to join Mr. Desilva.

'But my...my clothes, sir?'

Dr. Andrew paused in his work and looked up at Abigail over the tops of his spectacles.

'Miss Abigail, I thought we covered this earlier—not a single piece of your old uniform is appropriate for campus wear, and clothing that doesn't meet the uniform standards is to be confiscated—it's simply not fair to allow a student to waltz about in violation of the regulations, when all her classmates have chosen to abide by the rules.'

Abigail's face registered her growing shock at what he was implying, and her voice squeaked.

'You mean...I have to be naked to go to get my new uniform?'

'Yes, young lady, that is indeed what I mean,' Dr. Andrew replied, a little severely. 'But first you will need to be naked to go to the athletic center so Mr. Desilva can shave your vulva in the shower room. Don't worry, it's just across the quad and down the stairs, by the soccer field. I'm sorry if this is uncomfortable for you, but you will soon become accustomed to this sort of thing. Now hurry, please, as I'm sure Mr. Desilva has other more important and interesting things to do this afternoon besides dragging a naked young girl about the school grounds.'

Even after her unprecedented adventures of the last couple days, this was an astonishing development for poor Abigail, and she felt as if she were literally frozen to the ground, physically unable to walk through that door and make her debut appearance among her new classmates in nothing but a simple black headband.

Ryan sensed, after working so intimately and successfully on her naked young body, that he'd perhaps gained a little of her trust and had begun to develop a good sense of her temperament and her behavioral proclivities. It was always beautiful to feel the growing bond between a skittish, inexperienced girl and a skillful trainer, and he simply, calmly extended his hand slowly to her with a gentle smile and held still, allowing her to decide what she would do next.

Abigail shook her head and stamped her foot in agitation, her nostrils flaring and her rich brunette mane tossing in consternation as she cast her wary, soulful eyes fretfully from Dr. Andrew, who advised her that further obduration was bound to result in severe discipline, to Mr. Desilva's open palm and calming demeanor; and as if drawn by an invisible lead, she found herself walking to him and placing her small hand in his large, warm one, and with a deep, sighing breath, she walked out of the office and into the corridor with him.

It was strangely exhilarating, and she was amazed to find that, while she caught many glances of passing interest, rarely did anyone stop to stare at the sight of a nude schoolgirl being led through the halls and out across the quad, with its giant fountain and cherry blossom-lined paths; even the boys they passed simply greeted Mr. Desilva politely, and could be heard discussing the attractiveness of Abigail's body amongst themselves in the appreciative, evaluative manner in which they were being taught.

Holding Mr. Desilva's hand was even more of a comfort than Abigail had expected, and as they walked he explained to her that while high school boys were never allowed to have sex with girls her age, they were accustomed to seeing their female classmates in varying states of undress for any number of reasons as a matter of course at Stonewall, and were trained to understand and prize all the various charms of the female body as part of their preparation for their own eventual girl-training careers.

As the rounded the corner of the building, a trim, energetic elderly man in a natty twill jacket greeted Mr. Desilva with an outstretched hand and a warm handshake, and then looked the naked Abigail up and down with a twinkle in his eye.

'And dear me, who might this lovely little thing be?' he asked.

'Principal Darger, this is Abigail Miller. She just transferred here from Canada, and we're getting her enrollment process finished up now so she can go to class this afternoon.'

'I see. Welcome to Stonewall Academy, dear girl; goodness, you have lovely eyes and legs.'

Abigail blushed furiously at meeting the school's headmaster this way, but she tamped down her embarrassment and valiantly forced herself to resist the overwhelming urge to cover her pussy and breasts, knowing that girls were expected to allow men to enjoy viewing every part of their bodies here, and she thanked Principal Darger for his compliment and his welcome. He looked back at Ryan.

'She seems to be quite a sweetheart,' he chuckled, 'How on earth is she already in so much trouble that she's naked on her first day with us?'

'Well, sir, she's not actually being punished, though it certainly looks that way; unfortunately none of the clothing she wore to school is appropriate, and so we're simply headed to the storeroom to outfit her properly, after a stop at the showers to take care of her bush.'

Principle Darger bent down and ran his wrinkled fingers through Abigail's pubic hair, tugging delightedly on a hearty handful of it until she squeaked.

'This is indeed a fine, lush patch of fur—takes me back, it does. They don't make them like this anymore, Mr. Desilva. What were you planning to do to her?'

'I was going to just shave her clean; I understood that was the expectation for new students.'

Abigail's eyes were like saucers; she'd never been bare down there, and she wasn't sure she'd like it at all. To her relief, Principal Darger seemed to be of the same mind.

'Technically that is true, but that rule refers to the grooming requirements for first year schoolgirls. As Miss Abigail is a senior, and as this is truly a luxurious bit of landscape, might I recommend simply trimming it and cleaning up the edges to meet the minimum grooming requirements, without losing any of this wonderful thickness? When you're finished and she's got her new uniform, bring her by my office please so I can inspect her, Mr. Desilva. What a delightful girl...'

The girls' locker room at Stonewall Academy was not large. Upon entering, one found a line of dark hardwood lockers and benches along one side, with several mirrors and sinks opposite the door, and a row of half a dozen shower nozzles protruding from the white tile wall to the left.

Mr. Desilva led Abigail through the empty, echoing room to the shower head at the far end, the soft padding slap-slap of her bare feet the only sound accompanying the crisp footsteps of his calfskin oxfords.

Turning the handle, he waited for the water to turn quite warm before asking her to widen her stance and aiming the hissing stream at her pussy, instructing her to stand there and rinse herself well while he gathered some supplies from the cabinet behind one of the vanities.

It was a great relief to be nearly alone at last, and the hot, powerful stream of water felt so good on her cunny; Abigail took a deep breath and began to relax in the rising steam, and she used both hands to ensure the jets bathed every secret crevice and nook of her pussy as she watched Mr. Desilva out of the corner of her eye, ever more captivated by his understated and amicable confidence, and his athletic figure.

He returned with a thickly heavy towel, a razor, shampoo, and a small electric hair clipper, which he arranged neatly on one of the benches.

He turned to watch Abigail, holding her enthralled with his eyes as she stood naked before him and continued to obediently bathe her shamefully messy cunny in the hot, powerful stream of water, attempting to rinse away the flood of innocent girl nectar that fairly coated her, and for which he had been primarily responsible.

She wanted to live in his gaze like this forever, which didn't even make sense, but she felt she'd do anything to spend the rest of her life like this, luxuriating in her warm nakedness as he adored her with his capable smile, and prepared to care for her body.

She chided herself again for her silliness—she was surely imagining any adoration on his part; he was probably thinking about lunch, or some other girl he liked to train, and she couldn't believe how nonsensical she'd become since meeting him this morning.

Nonetheless, silly or not, she was immensely attracted to him, and she wondered exactly how a girl was meant to go about asking a man to train her without getting in trouble, or worse, discovering with a soul-crushing disappointment that he didn't find a girl like her worth investing his valuable time and energy in.

Her muddled introspection was summarily interrupted, and much of the good work she'd done cleaning the want from her hungry vagina utterly undone, as she watched, spellbound, as he slipped his broad shoulders from his suit jacket with a smile and hung it on a hook, loosened his tie, removed his cufflinks, and began to roll up the crisply-starched French cuffs of his spotless white shirt, his biceps bulging and rippling beneath the tailored cotton and his shirtwaist diving to a precipitously trim hip.

Turning off the water with several twists of the squeaking faucet, he crouched next to her and squirted a small dollop of shampoo into his hand, bringing it to her vulva and kneading it into a lather with firm, businesslike strokes, carefully working it all through her lush fur and ensuring he thoroughly treated her between her legs and all the way back across her anus and up the sweet cleft between her buttocks.

She melted under his touch and struggled mightily to retain her feet, as her knees threatened continually to give out every time his hand scrubbed across her clitoris or her hungry little opening, and it was all she could do not to cry out and have another orgasm right there, and collapse onto the shower floor in front of him in a shaking heap.

She somehow managed to maintain her composure, and attempted to deflect her own attention from the state of her pussy by apologizing to Mr. Desilva for cumming on his hand earlier.

He laughed kindly and assured her it was perfectly fine; in fact, he said, it was a good sign.

A girl generally had to be quite relaxed and feel very confident and safe to cum that hard, he said, and despite how scary and strange this new life must be for her, the fact that she experienced such a strong climax during so pedestrian a procedure as her school enrollment process only boded well for her prospects as an eligible girl here, and meant she was likely to become a highly desirable candidate for men to choose to train if she worked hard, and stayed focused and willing to improve.

He'd turned the water back on, and was carefully rinsing the shampoo from between Abigail's legs, when with a crash the double doors at the other end of the locker room flew open, and the girls' soccer team, fresh from practice, poured through them in a reverberating chorus of giggles and screams and snatches of song, and began stripping out of their skimpy uniforms.

'Alright, ladies, that was a good practice. Hit the showers and then line up for inspection, and let's end the day on a high note! Let's go, let's go—we don't have all day—oh, hello Desilva. What's going on over here?' the booming, jovial voice of Coach Dave Kendrick rang out as his muscular frame and fiery red mustache followed the girls into the locker room.

Including the students who'd tried out for the team this morning, there were fourteen girls now peeling the minimal sports bras off their toned, athletic torsos and stepping out of the high-cut booty shorts in the school colors that comprised their team uniforms, and with shower heads already at premium, they had to buddy up under the streams.

They seemed not to mind, however, and giggled and wiggled and laughed as they used the close quarters to help each other soap and rinse, and doubtless to sneak secret, deliciously naughty touches and caresses to each other's girl bits as part of their team bonding under cover of the rising steam.

'Apologies, Coach; we're almost done here, so your girls can use this shower head,' Ryan said. 'Just finishing rinsing Miss Abigail, and I'll move her over to that bench to trim her pussy.'

'No worries, my man,' Dave said, making his way to join them as Ryan toweled Abigail briskly down between her legs, and ordered her to have a seat on the bench and spread her thighs for him. The big firefighter's eyes lit up as he approached.

'I say, that's not little Abigail Miller, is it?' he laughed in recognition. 'Good to see you again, young lady. I didn't know you'd be attending Stonewall.'

Abigail, mortified, turned pink and almost closed her legs in embarrassment, but stopped herself just in time, remembering to keep her vagina accessible for Mr. Desilva to groom her.

'Hello, Mr. Kendrick,' she gave a little doleful wave, 'yes sir, today is my first day.'

'You know her?' Ryan asked, surprised, combing his fingers thoughtfully through the soft, damp hair between Abigail's spread legs as he considered the best plan of attack to enhance the appearance of her external genitalia where it nestled, like a darkly blushing jewel, within her luxurious setting of fur.

Her freshly washed and conditioned pubic hair was now sweetly scented and invitingly bodied, and he relished the sensation of running his fingertips through her wild curls, kneading their healthy gloss like a purring cat.

As men are apt to do when they see other men working, Coach Dave knelt next to Ryan to supervise, and to offer his sagest advice on the project and his opinions on Ryan's technique, while he waited for the bevy of soapy soccer players to finish rinsing off and line up for his inspection.

'Yes, we met this weekend at a father-daughter party,' Dave replied. 'Such a sweet girl, very conscientious and well-behaved. She's totally new to training, but she was willing to let us do whatever we needed to her. She's definitely got a lot to learn, but she's quite a yummy little fuck even with her lack of experience.'

Abigail wanted to die; hearing Mr. Kendrick describe having sex with her like this in front of a man she had a fair crush on was incredibly embarrassing, and like nothing she'd ever experienced.

She remembered vividly how Mr. Kendrick had practically pounced on her at the end of the father-daughter party and held her down in order to roughly pound her from behind, spraying his massive load of cum all over her back and butt when he was finished using her.

'Her vagina is just fantastic.' He mimed a little chef's kiss to make his point, 'Have you tried her yet?'

Ryan shook his head.

'No, we just finished up her new student intake. I've got to clean this up here and get her a uniform, and then take her to Principal Darger's office.'

'Well, you'll be in for a treat when you do. You going to shave her clean?'

Ryan took Abigail's inner labia and pinched them together, tugging them gently to the left and the then to right to see how her hair bordered her entrance and the smooth, silky surfaces of her lips.

'No, Darger wants her just trimmed a bit and cleaned up around the edges; she's got an unusually lovely bush here, and I think he likes it.'

He picked up the clippers and turned them on.

'Miss Abigail, I'm going to trim your hair quite short around your entrance so it's nice and tidy, and so everything is easy to see and enjoy when a man takes a look at your vagina, and perhaps wants to lick or kiss you down there, alright?'

Abigail nodded, her vulva beginning to feel heavy and tender again as Mr. Desilva described how he was going to touch her there.

'Then I'm going to shave along the edges of your mound so the hairline is nice and sharp, and there won't be any stray hairs poking out from under your school panties. Then I'll have you turn around and bend over so I can shave you smooth and clean around your anus.'

While under normal circumstances shaving a beautiful young girl's cunny would be a fully absorbing task to which any man would happily devote his entire attention, Ryan found himself having to work harder to focus than he'd otherwise have expected due to the highly distracting presence of fourteen bouncy, giggling butts and pairs of young breasts finishing their showers a few feet away.

Coach Dave's copper-headed daughter, the leggy and statuesque Layla, was team captain and the eldest of the players, and as the girls toweled off and assembled shoulder-to-shoulder against the shower wall, she roved up and down the line, her pert, tanned butt flexing and bouncing with each stride, the prominent nipples of her sleek A-cup breasts set permanently to high-beam as she ensured the girls were in the correct order and properly groomed before her father inspected his troops.

Ryan's daughter, Shannon, had almost forgotten herself in her excitement at unexpectedly seeing her father in the locker room after trying out for the team, and had started to come over to give him a damp, naked hug; fortunately she caught herself—as did the watchful eye of Layla—and she quickly stood at attention, her lovely breasts alert and proud, and snuck Ryan a little thumbs-up and a nodding grin, which he guessed meant she had made the roster.