Reformatory Girls Ch. 09

"What's the worst ordeal, would you say?" asks Miss Lucy, her fingers gliding in a 'V' down either side of Donna's vulva.

"Bloody hell," breathes Donna, as her labia start to swell, and feelings of arousal swirl around between her legs. "Not being able to wank. Having to wear those effing chastity belts."

Miss Lucy watches Donna's breathing become shallower and more rapid. She slides a finger down between Donna's lips, feeling for the hood of her clitoris.

"Supposing I were to bring you off Donna," she says, as the tall, hard girl underneath her begins to writhe and fidget. "Would you do something for me in return?"

"God," breathes Donna. "I'll finger you if you like. Or lick you out."

Miss Lucy gives a small laugh:

"That's a nice thought Donna – maybe one day. But it's not what I had in mind."

"What then?" breathes Donna.

"You're a powerful girl, Donna," says Miss Lucy. "From what I've picked up, some of the other girls are afraid of you. So if a girl had done me an injury and I wanted her punished – do you think you could do that for me?"

"You bet," says Donna, who is really struggling with the mounting pressure between her legs. "Just say the word: who is she? Oh for God's sake, bring me off."

"Usually I pay on results Donna," says Miss Lucy, just easing her finger away from Donna's clitoris.

"Look I'll do it," says Donna. "Whoever it is. Scouts' Honour and all that. Just bring me off for Jesus' sake."

Miss Lucy considers: she brought Clare off, and as she sees it Clare reneged on her promise. But she can see that Donna is different: the task that she is about to entrust to Donna runs very much with, not against, Donna's own inclinations.

"All right Donna," she says. "Just don't let me down."

She closes her hand over Donna's vulva and lets her fingers play around, squeezing here and there, before settling on a rhythm, flicking lightly back and forth over Donna's clitoris. Donna's jaw has gone slack: moisture is spreading all around her vagina, lubricating Miss Lucy's fingers.

"Oh Christ, yes, I'm going to cum," says Donna. Still she doesn't quite climax, but rotates her hips as fast as she can, counter to the direction of Miss Lucy's finger, working herself faster and more frantically.

"Let yourself go Donna," Miss Lucy breathes huskily. "Cum, Donna; cum in my hand; cum, cum, cum Donna."

"Aaaahh," gasps Donna, as Miss Lucy's hypnotic voice merges with the rhythmic rotation of her finger, and Donna thrusts upwards against Miss Lucy's hand and launches herself into an explosive climax, still gyrating frantically, getting every last drop of friction she can muster, until her body starts to sag, the orgasm to ebb, and she collapses, spent, onto the examination couch.

"Oh, that was good," she offers, after Miss Lucy has allowed her a few minutes of recuperation. And then Donna does something few people in Hazely have seen her do before: she smiles.

Miss Lucy gazes down on her. Donna's face has softened; and whilst she will never be pretty, there is a feminine quality in her features that is rarely apparent. Miss Lucy smiles back:

"I'd better mop you up," she says, plying the warm flannel between Donna's legs once again. Donna makes purring sounds, and shows no inclination to move. She would clearly like to bask all day: but they are already over time, and Miss Lucy picks up her knickers, holds them out with one finger and wafts them back and forth across Donna's cheeks, and finally drops them onto Donna's face.

Sighing Donna draws up her legs and wriggles her feet through the holes.

"So who is this girl, and what do you want me to do to her?" she asks.

"First of all Donna, this is between you and me – nobody else."

"Of course," Donna says.

"You can do whatever you fancy, I'll leave that to you. Only don't mark her or injure her: we don't want awkward questions. The girl's name is Clare Davenport."