A naïve woman decides to go and confront her daughter’s school bullies.
A slow-burn tease about a naïve woman who goes to confront her daughter’s bullies.
I hope you enjoy.
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Only a handful of participants are referred to by name. Even fewer are physically described.
The maintenance men look like maintenance men.
The female Principal is a typical, plump, overbearing, domineering old dragon.
Belinda is a 43 years old widow. Her physical features are barely described. Imagine her as you wish.
The ‘girls’ are boisterous young women straight out of an American (Pie) romp. All are 18 or more.
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Belinda baulked and had to read the sign twice before knocking on the stout wooden door.
The wording seemed odd, and slightly confusing, and she didn’t want to make a mistake…
MS PRENTICE WHYTE-JOHNSTON ……. SCHOOL PRINCIPLAL AND STUDENT VICE-PRINCIPAL
“Come” called a female voice from within, and Belinda entered, closing the door behind her.
“Sit, sit”, instructed the same female voice, as the hand on an outstretched arm gestured towards the empty wooden arm-chair positioned in front of the desk. The owner of the voice had not looked up from apparently writing numbers on an overtly large sheet of paper. Belinda assumed correctly this lady did not know who her visitor was. After what seemed like an eternity of awkward silence, the voice raised her gaze.
“Yes?” she was authoritarian and curt, “How may I help?”
“My daughter is Caroline Felmer-Brismore,” Belinda spoke calmly and clearly, “And I’m certain she is being bullied.”
“I see…. And what brings you to this possible, yet unsubstantiated conclusion?”
“From the way she talks on the phone. There is something going on, I’m sure of it, and I’m pretty sure it’s bullying. Then when I suggested I’d like to drive up here during term time and see her, she begged, in fact, beseeched, I do no such thing and stay away. That alone made me concerned.”
“Perhaps you should’ve paid heed to her sage advice … no matter … you are here now …. Well, I accept you may have perceived anomalies in her attitude and speech patterns which have brought you to the conclusion there could be a specific reason for such change. However, if your wording is taken at face value, you have no evidence of what the said reason may be. Your daughter is on the cusp of womanhood and has rapidly changing hormone levels which lead to all manner of unpredictable and irrational behaviours. However, should the cause indeed be traced back to being bullied, I assure you that the perpetrator, or plural of same, are not of this campus…… We have no bullies here.”
Belinda rolled her eyes before speaking. This woman was really something.
“I have evidence. My maternal instincts. That’s my evidence.”
“Very scientific, I’m sure. But I reiterate, Ms Felmer-Bris……”
“Call me Belinda”. Belinda interjected, mostly out of habit, but immediately regretted the concession.
‘I reiterate …. Belinda ….. we have no bullies here. Part of our education mission is to cultivate an understanding of the real world. We can’t all be Bill Gates or Marie Currie or Margaret Thatcher…. The ethos of this school is to strive to be your best, but also to accept your place in the pecking order of life. Do you understand?”
“But what’s that got to do with my complaint that my daughter is being bullied?”
“So you wish to elevate your impartation of concern to the status of complaint?”
“I just want to know what you are going to do about it.”
“And what does Mr. Felmer-Brismore say on this matter? Doesn’t he have an opinion?”
“There isn’t a Mr. Felmer-Brismore. He was killed a couple of years ago in a terrible helicopter accident. Him and his damn toys. I told him not to …..…… Anyway, that’s beside the point. It’s just me and my Caroline. She is my only child, and I diligently monitor her welfare.”
“As do we, whilst she’s here in attendance during term-time. We have our fine reputation to uphold. We haven’t become the most prestigious girl’s boarding school in the county without good reason.”
“But she mustn’t be getting the support she needs if she is being subjected to some kind of harassment.”
“I can see you are unfamiliar with the workings of this school and how we prepare our students for the real world. I feel a little demonstration is in order…. Come with me….. ”
Annoyed, but accepting the decree, Belinda found herself following the principal into a classroom full of female pupils who were obviously in mid-session.
“I need to give our unexpected visitor a little demonstration. You’ll have to indulge us for a short while.”
The wording to the teacher made it clear that rank was being pulled, and no options being given.
“Right,” boomed the principal as she brought her hands together in a sharp clap which echoed the room.
“Who in this room is 18 years old?” she asked, and a forest of arms shot in the air before retracting.
“And who is an A one?”
About ten arms shot up, and she motioned for one of them to come stand out at the front.
“Who is an A two?”
About another ten arms momentarily shot up.
“Who is a B one?”
Again, about six arms were briefly raised towards the ceiling.
“And finally, who here is a B two?”
A very confused and intrigued Belinda counted three arms in the air. The principal pointed at one and bellowed “Get yourself here,” as she redirected her pointed finger to the floor just beside her. The girl hurriedly hoisted herself upright with a scrapping of chair legs and scurried to the front of class.
“Now for your enlightenment of how things work around here,” she said at Belinda, and then, turning to the girl who had identified herself as an A one, she barked the order, “Strip”.
“No way,” returned the girl with a facial expression and vocal tone of incredulity.
“Strip,” the principal repeated her bark. “Blouse and skirt off now. …. DO IT…”
“No way,” the girl repeated with a now definite degree of annoyance.
“I am your principal. Strip…. That’s an order…..”
The girl was still shaking her head with a look of disbelieving incredulity as she looked around her fellow classmates, looking to check this wasn’t some kind of set-up prank, before turning back to the principle and stating in no uncertain terms “No freaking way…. Are you nuts?” as she kept on shaking her head.
“Sit back down at your desk”, the principal said monotone flatly, and the girl instantly complied, obviously relieved this surreal episode had now concluded.
The principal now turned to the girl who had identified herself as a B two. Staring down at the obviously unnerved and shivering girl, the principal barked….. “It’ll have to be you, then,,, strip.”
“No, I…. it’s not…. I can’t,… “ the girl stammered and stuttered with no conviction.
“Strip.” The principal repeated in a harsh bark worthy of a drill sergeant.
The girl looked at the floor.
“Strip, you stupid girl. Take off your blouse, lay it on the teacher’s desk, then drop your skirt round your ankles. Come on, hurry up. All your classmates are waiting.”
It was at this point that Belinda decided she must intervene. “The girl’s not……..” she started.
“See, you’ve upset our visitor”, the principal cut her off. “What you must do now is climb up onto teacher’s desk and stand facing your classmates. Then, when they start chanting ‘strip - strip - strip’, you will remove every stitch of clothing which adorns your body…… You got that?”
The girl’s shoulders drooped, and her head dipped in resignation.
“But……” Belinda again started, and the principal immediately showed her the palm of her hand, which brought her into full silence.
“Come on, up you pop,” cajoled the principal to the despondent and terrified girl. “We haven’t got all day.”
With that, the girl shuffled around and stood on the teacher’s chair, then stepped up onto the table, and set herself facing her classmates.
It was at this point when Belinda ran from the room.
Unbeknown to Belinda, the principal then immediately ordered the hapless girl back to her desk, and with two sharp claps of her hands, told the class to resume as they were and get on with their studies. She then chased after Belinda, catching her in the foyer before she walked out of the front door.
“Come back to my office,” she said, as smooth as silk. “There are some things we ought to discuss”.
Belinda gave a huge audible sigh, and turned away from the door to face the principal.
“Come on ….. Come with me… you deserve an explanation. And you are in school. This is where things are explained, yes?“ the principal cooed.
Despite the shock and bewilderment of the recent spectacle, Belinda relented and took a deep breath and exhale, preparing to follow, mindful of her own concerns as yet being unresolved.
“You just witnessed something extraordinary, and I think it’s opened your eyes to a world you don’t yet comprehend. Let us return to my office and talk….” And as she started walking, Belinda tagged along behind.
Both back in their respective chairs, and the office door closed, the principle started to speak.
“Don’t you see what just happened there? I asked one girl to do something totally inappropriate and unacceptable, and she emphatically said ‘no’, despite having to defy the behest of someone who is currently way above her in the pecking order of life….. As for the other girl …. I think I could’ve persuaded her to strip naked and run down the high-street if I really wanted. She obviously has a lot to learn… but that is what we are here to do…. teach lessons and to demonstrate the right way and wrong way. Of course, some girls are harder to teach that others. It’s in the genes, you see. Some people have a strong will and a mind of their own. Others are as pliable as soft leather. And it’s been proven these genes are passed through the generations. Take your daughter, for instance. You say she is being bullied. I totally disagree. We have no bullies here. Just A ones, A twos, B ones and B twos. From what you are saying, she is a B two, and is being influenced by one, or maybe several, A ones. It is not only the teachers who teach. The girls help each other, and it seems to me that an A one, or maybe more, have been teaching your daughter a lesson. It’s partly your fault. You know that, right?”
“Excuse me? My daughter being bullied is my fault? How the hell does that work?” exclaimed Belinda. All this A and B talk was getting a bit too cerebral for her liking, and then to be accused of her daughter being bullied was her fault……
“I said it’s partly your fault, because you cannot be held responsible for deliberately passing on your low ranking genes. It’s that simple. Maybe someone has given your daughter an extra-curricular stark reality-check as to where she’ll end up it she doesn’t take notice in class.”
“I don’t understand. There is nothing wrong with my genes,” Belinda stated, confused and irritated.
“Well it’s been patently obviously to me from the very second you walked into my office they are of B two stock, and maybe of late someone has felt it their duty to remind your daughter of this, and to try much harder in class.”
“B two stock? Are you saying what I think you’re saying, and calling me stupid?”
“Ha, ha… no, no…… that not my point. I’m saying she’s not assertive, just like you.”
“But I’ve just driven sixty miles to be here in person to complain about my daughter being bullied. Isn’t that assertive enough?”
“That is why you’ve got this totally wrong and why you’re a B two … and I’m going to prove it. You may have come here to complain, but you should’ve realised that if you go see a school principal, you’re going to be taught a lesson, right? Oh, my dear sweet pet. You deserve everything you’re going to get….”
“I don’t like you’re tone, and I’m leaving. I shall be writing to the authorities,” fumed Belinda as she rose to her feet.
“And what of your daughter? You know this is the best school in the county, and despite her recent issues, we both know that if she stays the course, she will leave here with exemplary qualifications. That is what you want, yes? And we don’t want to jeopardise all the good work she’s put in thus far, do we now…..…. Berr- lin ..da … ? Sit back down.”
Belinda slumped back onto her chair. She’d just been talked down to, and seemed to have lost the first round.
“That’s right. Make yourself comfortable. We have a lot more talking to do, especially about your behaviour?”
“My behaviour? What behaviour? What are you talking about?”
“In the classroom before, when I asked one girl to strip and she firmly refused, so I demanded that the second girl strip. You saw her discomfort. Her dilemma. Obey or not obey…….. You were going to say something, yes? Were you going to ask me to stop my inappropriate and possibly illegal hectoring? Or were you considering you could … indeed … should, step into the breach and strip instead ….take her place …. get her off the hook?”
“I was thinking no such thing. The poor wretch was about to have a nervous breakdown.”
“So you wouldn’t have offered to take her place? Your skin is thicker that hers, so you could’ve taken the bullet. That’s what I was thinking. Don’t you realise the whole exercise could’ve been a test … a challenge …. not for the girl, but for you, to see if you would volunteer to strip in her stead.”
“I don’t like you talking that way. I have no intention of stripping for anyone.”
“None of my visitors come here intending to strip, but many end up doing exactly that….. What if I told you that, in a short while from now, before leaving this school, you are going to be totally bare-buck naked. Would you believe me?”
‘I’d say you were going insane.”
“Insane enough to give you a choice…. Strip just for me, now…. Or a little later, in front of a whole bunch of students.”
“That’s it …. you really are insane,” stormed Belinda as she stood up to make her leave. “You’ve lost the plot and need locking up.”
“Locking up with what?” oozed the principal as she calmly slid open a drawer and fished out a pair of handcuffs, before dropping them with a loud clunk on her desk. “With these, your daughters’?”
“No, I…. where did they….. how come…?” Belinda started to jibber as she slumped back down onto her seat. Few people have actually seen the real McCoy heavy duty, shiny chrome, prison handcuffs up close, and it usually comes as a shock. They certainly grabbed Belinda’s attention.
“I confiscated them …. And do you know where from? …. Of course you don’t…. you only suspect your daughter is being bullied. Well that’s where they were. Around your daughter’s wrists as she was hugging a tree. And it wasn’t at one of those conservation protests…. Oh, no…. it was right here at the very far end of campus, well out of ear-shot and sight of the school buildings. It was just by sheer chance that one of the break-time supervisors found her. The supervisors usually don’t go down there. Due to some very unsavoury incidents in the past, it is pretty much a no-go zone for staff. Well, there she was… hugging a big tree trunk, wrists cuffed together, still fully clothed, but with her panties around her ankles, and surrounded by several jeering classmates taking pictures. The supervisor took some photos of her own, threatened the girls with police action, made them give her the cuffs key, and then sent them packing. Apparently your daughter was distraught, and although she told the supervisor she was physically ok, she walked slowly and carefully back to the restrooms, waggling her ass like a duck. When I interviewed her at length the next day when she’d composed herself, she admitted that she had willingly allowed herself be handcuffed in such a fashion. She didn’t expect her panties to be dragged down her legs, or her sex to be interfered with, but them’s the breaks I guess.”
“But why didn’t you tell me all this when I first got here?”
“It was on a need to know basis, and a deal is a deal. She is acutely aware of the A one B two theories, and realised that if she is a B two, then you are also, and didn’t want you coming here making a fuss.”
“And why wouldn’t she want me here?”
“Oh, my sweet pet... You haven’t grasped a word I’ve said, have you? I’ve even given you a demonstration. Don’t you realise that you’re a B two on the turf of, and surrounded by, aspiring dominant A ones. You don’t stand a chance.”
“Never mind about my chances, whatever that means. What are you going to do about the girls who assaulted my daughter? Are any charges going to be laid?”
“Unfortunately your daughter has admitted to being the custodian of these highly illegal hand-cuffs, whether that be the true case or not. There is no way your daughter will testify to any wrong-doing. It goes against all the teachings and, dare I say it, moulding, she has been subject to this last several years. It was one simple lapse of judgement on her part, I’m certain of it, and I doubt it will (cough, cough, “Excuse me”, apologises the principal) it will happen again.”
“But I demand something be done. This was assault… and by the sounds of it, sexual assault ….and it was lucky a supervisor stepped in before it went further. Who knows what might have happened? This can’t be just brushed under the carpet. Surely the supervisor who took some pictures still has evidence.”
“Unfortunately those pictures seem to have gone astray. The supervisor swears she still had her camera when she entered the gym the next day, but it must have fallen from her pocket when she became involved in some animated activities. And as for being an eye witness, well, it would be her word against those of several others.”
“Well, I’m simply not satisfied. Surely something can be done.”
“We---ell,” responded the principle with a drawled-out consideration.
“What?” perked Belinda, her hopes raised that someone may be held accountable.
“I suppose …… if you want to be satisfied, you could meet with the girls responsible and take it from there.”
“I would love to meet the bitches responsible, and totally give them a piece of my mind.”
“I doubt very much they would appreciate being referred to as bitches to their face, Belinda. I imaging they see themselves as self-appointed guardians of rightful hierarchy. Be that as it may, I’m sure they would welcome the opportunity to explain themselves and offer any apologies or rectify any misgiving you may have about the motivations for their actions. Maybe if they were held accountable as a group, their collective contrition may be all the more palpable and sincere.”
“Well I don’t know about all that. I just want to know who they all are.”
“I’m sure if I talked with the supervisor who is familiar with the matter, and knows the girls involved, it can be arranged to have them all together in one room. And I can honestly say this, Belinda, having done what they did to your daughter, I’m sure they understand your need to know them. What better way than if you were all in the same room together? I believe it can be arranged within the hour. Can you hang around here for a while?”
“Damn right I can.”
“Well, I’m not sure exactly how many girls were involved, but I’m sure the gym is free today. There are all the usual bits and pieces of equipment dotted around, but there should be enough room to assemble all the girls involved for when you go in and confront them.”
“Good. I’m not having them intimidate and molest my daughter and then walk away and think it is the end of the matter….”
“Oh, by the sound of things, this is certainly not the end of the matter. I’m sure there’s much more to be said and done….. in the gym within the hour. Oh, and here’s a thought…. I assume you won’t mind …. I’ll arrange for some girls who weren’t involved in the original incident to observe the proceedings. There should be enough room to squeeze you all in. You see, it is usually I, and I alone, who deals with chastisement and appropriate punishment, and this would be a fine opportunity for them to witness admonishment delivered in a different style and in a different way. After all, it’s not every day a chance to enhance their worldly understanding comes along, and I’m sure your offering will be an example to behold.”
“I don’t care who else is there, so long as all those horrible girls who violated my daughter are.”
“Excellent…. Well then, before I arrange for preparations to be made in the gym and assemble all the girls, I’ll escort you to the Tea Room. It’s much more comfortable there, with lounges and tea and coffee and a television. I particularly recommend the orange juice. There’s also a restroom if you feel a need to freshen up. It’s all been converted inside an old classroom which we no longer use…. Come … I’ll take you there now….”
They wandered down a couple of corridors and eventually ended up outside a brown wooden door….
“Here we are,” cooed the principal. “In you go… Someone will come and get you in short while. It’s nice and cosy in here. I’m sure you’ll find it suitable and feel right at home.”
And as Belinda entered to commence her wait, she noticed underneath the Tea Room sign there were dull markings in the wood-stain where the old classroom number used to be….
B 5 only
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Belinda opened the small fridge and was pleasantly surprised to see it was quite well stocked. She plucked a dangling cup from a hook, and was about to prepare herself a coffee when she noticed there wasn’t a kettle. “Mmmm” she pondered and considered her options. She poured a small amount of orange juice into a glass and had a sip. “Mmmm” she hummed again in appreciation of the sweet refreshing taste. She filled up the glass and looked around. Her gaze located the television remote but left it where it lay. Her emotions were too stirred to consider watching TV, and besides, electronic apparatus of any kind was not her ‘thing’, and she could never get them to work as they should. A small pile of magazines adorned the central coffee table, so she rifled through to see what was on offer. Most were banal commercial women’s magazines, but one particular booklet caught her attention ……… With a provocative, almost pornographic photograph of a buxom female athlete in skin tight spandex on the front cover, and entitled, “Sweet and Sublime”. It was too irresistible to ignore.
After an initial flick-through, she went back to page one, and started to read the text under the accompanying pictures of nubile female athletes, mostly in mid-action and many in swimwear, as they somersaulted, dived, jumped, cycled and bounced in a multitude of poses. But she couldn’t help but notice they became more risqué with each turn of the page, maybe 50 in total, as she took occasional sips of her juice.
‘Full stretch and loving it’……… ‘Help me push harder’…… ‘Are my legs spread wide enough?’
‘I’ve never been so wet,’ ………. ‘I’m so close.. please don’t stop.’….. ‘Come in and do it.’
‘My coach wants me to”, …… ‘I want to come too’ ……. ‘Twenty of them at least’
‘I hate them, but can’t say no’…… ‘I can go for miles’ ….… ‘I don’t care, just put it in’.
Without realising it, the provocative poses and the suggestive wording had made Belinda flush with an inappropriate glow…. “Oh, gosh”, she breathed out loud, suddenly feeling how aroused she’d become. She rested the booklet down on her knees for a moment to catch her breath, but then couldn’t resist flicking back through to find the photo which had made the biggest impression. .. Pages 43 and 44 with its dual page spread. She didn’t realise the subliminal symbolism at first. She had been focusing on the expression on the girl’s face as she seemed to be suspended mid-air. That face. That look. It drew her eyes like a magnet. Sure, her wide spread legs were facing the camera and a very well defined and lewdly explicit camel-toe was blatantly on show through her virtually sheer wet swimmers. But it was the look on her face, her contorted expression. It was a blended mix of exhilaration, ecstasy, satisfaction and unmitigated terror. It was every bit as erotic as the camel-toe. “Oh my goodness,” Belinda breathed, the words barely a whisper as she leaned back into the sumptuous lounge. “Lucky bitch. I wish someone would make me feel like that,” as mindless fingers pushed down into the saddle of dress overlaying her thighs and briefly massaged the ache in her sex. She came to her senses and sat back upright and re-opened pages 43 and 44. She wanted to store that facial expression in her brain, but couldn’t help but take in the entire scene.
“Ohh….” an exclamation of realisation as her eyes wandered over the whole two page double-spread. The bikini clad babe in mid-air was tilted far backwards in free-fall, almost like she was on her back in spread-eagle form with her chin on her chest staring at the camera. The look of terror on her face probably arose because it seemed she was falling from quite high, like she had jumped off a balcony, perhaps. But what now came into focus was her landing pad. It appeared to be a large round trampoline surrounded by several, maybe twelve, bikini clad babes all of whom had their arms outstretched with their palms facing upwards as if that would be sufficient action to catch the falling girl and secure a safe landing. If she had put herself solely in those hands without the trampoline back-up, her adventure would surely have been doomed to fail. Then on closer inspection, the faces of the only 4 ‘catchers’ who were visible all bore an expression of pure evil and contempt…. their offer of being her saviour was bogus… like they wanted her to fail and rejoice in her agony…. and yet the falling girl had an element of euphoria and blind faith in her expression….. she thought she was safe….. but she wasn’t, and didn’t know…. Belinda’s heart thumped in her chest, and the ache in her sex became profound…
She was dumbfounded and perturbed…… and seriously sexually aroused. She hadn’t had a sexual relationship since her husband had died, but why had this vision of a mixture of treachery, exhilaration and terror, combined with the accompanying text caused her condition? It was a question she couldn’t answer. She re-read the text :-
‘She’s falling straight into evil, twisted hands, and she just can’t stop herself. She’s not even trying. It’s because, just like you, it’s what she’s subconsciously dreamed of, and exactly what she deserves. She didn’t fall. She jumped. Will you jump? Give yourself to them? Let them get their hands on you? I think you want to. You’ve kept it a secret, but now is your chance to take that leap into darkness and meet with the fate you deserve. Go on, do it… Jump. You know that you want to. They’re all out to have you, so be plainly on offer and they will eagerly to grab you. Then let them all use you however they will and let them take whatever they need.’
How had such an unnatural concoction of vision and words stirred up feelings so inappropriate, yet so intense they had made her want to masturbate, right here and right now? … She couldn’t explain it, but she knew her fingers were pushing down hard at her crotch through the distorted overlay fold of her dress…
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“Knock, knock”.
Belinda took in a sharp, startled intake of breath and panicked, frisbeeing the magazine onto the coffee table.
The door opened and a friendly face appeared, and a cheery voice asked if she was ready to go.
Belinda sprang to her feet and her palms hurriedly straightened the front of her dress ….
”Yep.”
The late 20’s slim young girl said, “I’m Trish, by the way. I hope you don’t mind but I need a drink before we leave. This is the first time I’ve gotten away from my desk this last couple of hours. I hope you helped yourself to a drink.”
“Yes, thanks. I’ve been sipping on orange juice while I passed the time.”
“Oh, I’m just damn thirsty, and need to skull something. Anything. I won’t be a tick.”
“Sure,” said Belinda as Trish lifted the half-full bottle of orange juice out from the fridge, held it in her hand for quite a long moment, then apparently having a change of mind, returned it to its place. She then reached in for the spring-water, poured herself almost a full glass and quickly gulped it down, then returned the bottle to the fridge and put the glass in the sink. Belinda too finished the remnants of her juice and lay her glass in the sink. But there was no mistaking Trish’s lingering stare at the pile of magazines on the coffee table, which of course had “Sweet and Sublime” laying on top.
Belinda felt herself blush.
“Need the restroom before we go?” Trish politely enquired.
“I’m fine,” replied Belinda, when indeed she was not fine. She was on the verge of using the restroom for several minutes of self-recreation when this annoying Trish girl turned up and ruined her plans.
“Off to the gym we go then. You been there before?” asked Trish.
“This is the first time I’ve been to the school since they completed the renovations, so, no, not really.” said Belinda as they walked along.
“Oh, you’ll love it in the new gym, trust me,” as Trish gave Belinda a playful nudge with her elbow. “Some of the girls are in there now, having a workout.”
“But I thought the principal said it would be vacant for the meeting I’m having.”
“Well, normally on Fridays it would be, but one of the student’s teams has a big match this weekend, and they’re getting in some extra practice. Do you like wrestling?”
“Wrestling?” exclaimed Belinda in astonishment. “They have a girls wrestling team?”
“Sure… It’s really exciting, too. When they have a tag team match, sometimes they get carried away and if the referee isn’t on her toes it gets more like a bar room brawl where anything goes. It can really get the audience fired up. I’ve seen……… ” she started, but her words trailed away.
“I can image,” said Belinda with a gulp.
…
The next corridor was long with a shiny green linoleum floor and dozens of lockers along one side. Muffled sounds of grunts and squeals were coming from the far end.
“This is as far as I go,” said Trish, anxiously looking down the length of the corridor and taking Belinda completely by surprise. “I’m sure you can find your way from here. Nice meeting you. Bye.” Whereupon she turned on her heel and walked away.
“Bye, Thank you for …..”, said Belinda, weakly trailing off at the end as Trish scurried away. Well, that was rude, she thought. She composed herself and headed in the direction of the sound of boisterous activity. “This had better not spoil the meeting” she said to herself.
…
The doors to the gym were double-swing saloon style, large and wide, with a square glass panel in the top of each.
Belinda stood on her tip-toes and peered in. There appeared to be a dozen or so athletes jumping about and doing their thing, but none were actually wrestling.
“Goodness,” she said to herself “this place is huge. And that dozy cow had said she’d be making arrangements to fit us all in … How many was she expecting? The feeding of the five thousand?”
…
“Can I help you?” The baritone, almost manly voice from a strapping, tall 18 year old female caught Belinda and her tip-toed muse off-guard, but she couldn’t help noticing the muscular, buxom physique inside her skin tight spandex body suit.
“Well, yes. I am Mrs. Felmer-Bri……..”
“Trish Trash just told me exactly who you are. You’re that dumb sucker’s guardian. What’yall doing here?” she said, surly, her mouth clicking as she chewed her gum.
“A bit more respect from you, young lady, if you don’t mind. I’m here to meet the principal,” asserted Belinda, brushing the miss-speak aside.
“No you ain’t. That old dragon won’t come down here.”
“But I was told…..”
“Look, I know you been to the old dragon to complain, but I dunno why she sent you down here …… aahhh…… unless…..” The flash of enlightenment causing her to loll her head backwards and grin a fatuous grin. “Aahhh, I get it. You aren’t Chrissy’s guardian. You’re her real mom, right?”
“Yes, I’m Caroline’s mother. Why did you call her Chrissy, and what do you mean, ‘real’ mom?”
“Oh, we all call her Chrissy, but you are her birth mother, right? You’re blood?”
“Yes. What’s that got to do with anything?”
“Oh, nothin’, Just checking. You coming in or what?”
The strapping young girl reversed into one of the swing doors and held it wide open with her back.
“Come on in, don’t be shy. We don’t…” she paused… ”well actually, we do, but you should be ok.”
Belinda shuffled in, her head swivelling this-way and that, drinking in the vast hall. There were two boxing rings, a basketball court, a trampoline bed, and all the athletic gear you could think of…. pommel horses, balance beams, rings, cross bars, and a line of climbing frames along one wall …. the lot. And overhead, looking like an inside-out spaceship, were a ring of observation windows leaning in at an odd angle.
Belinda felt a hand push firmly against the small of her back, causing her to take several more steps towards the centre of the hall. “Hey”, she protested, but the girl gave her another shove, and Belinda was now quite far from the entry doors.
“Sorry, but you were hesitating too much. We can’t be seen just hanging around near the door like that. Not allowed, not now we got the observation deck. The only downstairs standing area is over there, around that first boxing ring,” she said, pointing further ahead, “Come on, let’s go.”
“Well don’t push me again, thank you,” as they started walking. “Do you know if anyone is here to meet me?”
“Search me, but I can soon find out…” whereupon she put two fingers in her mouth and gave out an ear-splitting whistle, then hollered ”Yo, listen up. Sissy Chrissie’s mom’s here and wants some attention,” then continued at Belinda, “That should do the trick. I don’t know much about it, but I’ve heard a few of the girls saying they wouldn’t mind meeting up with you, and then, bam, here you are, apparently dying to meet them, wow. Well, the word is out now, so cells’ll be buzzing and they’ll be come a-running, so don’t you worry. Anyway, honeybuns, I got me some work-out to do, but don’t be a stranger, y’hear?” and with that, she gave Belinda a sharp smack on her ass and jogged away. The slap sent a jolt through Belinda’s loins, making her flush red, reminding her she still had an aching tingle in her sex.
From her vantage in the wide, green painted area around the first boxing-ring, she did a slow 360 on her heels, looking for potential side doors to this enormous hall, and looking for signs of anyone walking her way.
Suddenly, a small side door burst open, and three teenage girls, all playfully pushing and shoving each other and emitting course, boisterous laughter came walking towards her.
“You Chrissie’s mom?” asked the first one to reach her, “Her real mom?”
“I’m Caroline’s real mother, yes, and what’s with this ‘real mom’, anyway?”
“Oh, nothing. Just checking. I suppose we should introduce ourselves. This is me,” she said, tapping herself on the chest, then pointing, “That’s her, and that’s her sister,” she said, causing all three to fall about in fits of laughter.
“Yeah, very funny. So what are your real names?”
“All in good time,” said the still laughing girl, again tapping herself on the chest, “and that’s a better time, and that’s a real good time,” attempting to point to the other two before the whole three were again overtaken by convulsing hysterics.
“All right, that’s enough,” fumed Belinda, beginning to glow a bright red from a mixture of emotions.
One of the girls staggered forward, holding her abdomen with one hand, and grasped Belinda by the sleeve of her dress with the other, almost for support.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she conceded, her animated mirth subsiding. “We’re all sorry. But we didn’t expect you to turn up. No-one could’ve said anything to give you a reason to come here, we’re all too tight, man, you know? Of course, we would’ve liked you to come here, but, hey, we just didn’t really expect it. And then you turning up out of the blue … it just seems so .… so .… well, easy.”
“So easy. What are you on about?”
“You are Chrissie’s mom, right? Well then, welcome and double welcome. We said it would be nice to have you, and bingo .. here you are,” causing sniggers from the other two girls.
“Look, I don’t know what’s going on here, but a few days ago my daughter was assaulted and I want to know who did it.”
“Assaulted, kershmalted. She loves every minute of it. Didn’t anyone tell you that?”
“Don’t you sass me, young lady. There was an assault, and I want names and faces,” then the wording hit Belinda like a sledge-hammer…
“You just said ‘loves’…….. ‘loves’ ….. is this an ongoing thing? Is that’s what’s happening..?” Belinda, panicking now. “Where is Caroline. Where’s my baby?”
The three girls looked at each other with feigned, serious concern, fingers on chins, then one of them spoke. “I doubt she can join us. She’s fine, honestly, she’s fine, but probably just a bit tied up somewhe……….” Unable to finish the word as all three burst out with laughter again, falling about.
“All right, I’ve had it with you three…. I’m going back to the principal’s office,” whereupon all three girls crowded her, fawning, apologetic, lightly pawing her as if begging for forgiveness, all cooing “no” like they were soothing a distressed child.
“No, no, no …ok … ok… we’re sorry, we’ll come clean,” one of the girls spoke out, breaking the chorus of humming ‘coos’, as all three girls started to walk slowly around her. “There was an assault, yes,” said one, nonchalantly plucking at the dress on Belinda’s shoulder as she slowly walked around. “A sexual assault,” said another, lightly pulling at the belt of her dress from the side as too walked slowly round and around. “A protracted sexual assault,” said another from behind, casually brushing her fingers through the hair on the back of Belinda’s neck as she walked by. “Which means it went on for hours,” as a light grasp pulled on her fingers on her left hand as she too walked around. “And again the next day,” as a passing hand again mussed her hair and tweaked at her locks. “And well into the night,” was breathed in her ear as finger-nails brushed lightly on the side of her neck. “And all night long”…. “A sleepy night long” …. “Sleeping in the night.”…. “Soft sleep.” … “Warm sleep.” …. “Do you want to spend the night?” “Do you want to fall asleep with us?” “Do you want to fall asleep?” …. “Do you want to fall asleep?” …. asked the hypnotic whisper of circling voices…. as fingers brushed lightly on the side of her neck …. as fingernails lightly traced on the palm of her hand… as tender warm lips brushed soft on her ear.. as fingers stroked lightly across the globes of her ass. The girls had been walking around and around, touching her, stroking her. Belinda’s gaze followed them as they passed, her head sloshing back and forth.
The rush of adrenaline from Belinda’s panic about Caroline’s welfare was quickly subsiding, replaced by an insidiously rise of euphoric, intoxicating, light-headedness as she warmed to their seductive ministrations, when she suddenly realised she’d closed her eyes with her head tilted backwards and was emitting soft purrs of appreciation. She snapped out of the moment with a, “Hey, hey, hey,” and twisted her body to remove herself from the confines of the small circle of three girls, a manoeuver which caused her to stagger and almost fall. She regained her balance and looked up at the girls who, now their bent-over fits of laughter had subsided, suddenly seemed to be much taller than her.
“That’s enough.” Belinda squawked.
“But there was no need to call us off,” cooed one of the girls.
“Relax and enjoy,” purred another, as she shuffled back closer.
“We only want to please you,” soothed another, as the girls reformed around her, and again proceeded to walk circles around.
“Your skin is so soft,” as massaging fingers gently worked the nape of her neck.
“Your skin is so smooth,” as finger brushed lightly on one of her cheeks.
The three girls were again walking slow rotations, pampering … stroking … whispering soothing words, grinning at each other as they watched Belinda’s head slump down on her chin and flop to one side as her eyelids fluttered and closed.
A pair of arms reached around her from behind and gave a light squeeze, as erotic lips nibbled the side of her neck. The pleasant sensation caused Belinda to turn her head and her eyes to ease open, and saw she was now in the company of five girls, with several hands now on her, massaging and stroking and tweaking her hair, and wandering all over her body.
“Please …. no more,” whimpered Belinda, as the five girls crowded even closer, their bodies pushing in, enveloping her, encasing her. She was well and truly surrounded. She knew she should speak more firmly, more sternly, but her mouth was dry and her breathing now laboured and rasping. She felt she was burning as the circle of female bodies became a tight crush. She was fighting to breathe and it was impossible speak.
“Cat got your tongue, eh, you poor thing?” a soft voice cooed from behind, the breathy words blowing hot in her ear. From within the crush, a hand gently cupped her left breast, and a stiffened middle finger brushed back and forth over its erect nipple. The flat palm of another hand slowly slithered up the inside of her right leg. “What’s it gonna find when it gets there?” taunted the hot breathy words at her ear. “We saw you reading our book…. looking at the pictures…. touching yourself …. you like us young girls, don’t you? … and you like it when we touch you, huh? Tell me babe … tell me that you like this ….. tell me that you like this ….tell me that you like this.”
“Yes,” exhaled Belinda, barely audible, as she gulped for more air through a mouth which was too dry to speak.
“And do you also like this?” causing Belinda to sharply inhale with a flinch as the creeping flat hand reached its damp-panty target on cue, and gave a sharp, firm upward tweak.
“Yes,” Belinda replied with a gasp as she fluttered her eyelids, blindsided by the unexpected jolt. She could not believe this was happening. It felt like twenty hands were touching and caressing her body all at once, and the side of one flat hand pressing a wedgie up at her crotch.
“You saw yourself in the picture in our book, didn’t you? Helpless and terrified, yet wanting the same. You want to be her, don’t you?” whispered the soft, haunting words sliding from lips caressing her ear. “And you read the words too, huh? …. ‘Fall into their hands, give yourself to them, let them have you.’ Is that what you want? Is that what you really want?”
Belinda answered with an exhaling sigh, weak and faint. She felt decidedly woozy. She was floating in a sea of female bodies pressing in, surrounding her, hemming her so tight she couldn’t move..
Different voices started speaking in turn, mesmeric, hypnotic, haunting, the phrases overlapping.
“Let yourself fall ……. Fall into their lap ….… Let them all take you …. You know that you want to …. Fall into their hands ….. You know that you want to …. But who would’ve guessed …. That you would turn up here ….. and not your fancy mansion …you’ve made it so easy ….. we know you live alone … we were going to come and get you…… but now you’ve turned up here …….you’ve made it all so easy …. just like your little Chrissie ….. our little Chrissie ….. our little sissy Chrissie ……. our pretty sissy Chrissie ….. she’s our Chrissie now … our slavish little Chrissie… we know about her blood …. your blood …. the same blood … that you’re a sissy too …. a pretty little sissy …. do you want to be our sissy?” ….. do you want to be our sissy? …. do you want to be our sissy?
“Yes .. Yes”, answered Belinda with a weak and breathless double squeak. Her head was dizzy and spinning from all the verbal darts bombarding her thick and fast from a multitude of voices.
The circle of girls around her now numbered over a dozen, and growing larger by the minute as more filed in, some walking, some virtually running, anxious to get a good spot. They knew they had her now, and she was theirs for the taking. But that was not their way. They wanted to rub her nose in. They want her craven, with a need to be what she soon was to become.
Their continuing subterfuge became a forthright lone voice, advancing her fall into bondage.
“It was very brave of you to enter our den of vipers and sin. We are all evil here. Debauched and depraved, crude and controlling. Chrissie is no longer yours. She now belongs to us. Every square inch. Every molecule. Every thought in her head. Everything. It all belongs to us. You didn’t know before today, did you? But now you do. Do you still want to come and meet with us, the girls who own your daughter? We can make you our slave too. Our sex slave… A slave to our whims... Our hapless carnal fun. We could own you and shame you however we please. But there’ll be no turning back, and you’ll be our sex slave for ever. Would you still want to come to us? Knowing what you know, would you still want to come? Would you still want to come? Would you still want to come? Because come you have, and here you are.”
“Yes”, breathed Belinda through her dry mouth and lips. “I would still want to come, and here I am.”
It was as if her words of admission were a cue, and the moment they were spoken, the crowding circle of young female bodies seemed to drift away as they all shuffled back, leaving Belinda swaying and unsteady after the smaller inner circle had removed their support. As she rocked on her heels, feeling faint, feeling she may faint, words reached her ears. Not a chant, but subtle, tumbling wave of suggestion from all quarters…. It seemed like a hundred voices were whispering as one, urging their demand. A continuous, hushed chatter effecting one long single sound. Mesmeric. Pervasive. A whispering breeze of guidance cascading word over top of word.
“Strip…. Strip …. Strip…. Strip.”
It was a hypnotic, flowing stream of suggestion she couldn’t resist. She swayed as her fingers fiddled with her belt buckle until the ends fell away. She bent down, unsteady in her balance, as both hands grasped the hem of her dress. The hem rose, exposing her yellow frilly panties and then her matching bra as she hoisted the hem high above her head. Her arms appeared to dance inside the upturned dress as it floated on-high above her shoulders. With the garment now set free, she waved it around like a hoopla flag, before tossing it away onto the heads of the encircling throng. The action caused her to stagger backwards, as several arms reached out to prevent her imminent fall and steer her back to the centre.
A spontaneous round of applause erupted from the large circle of onlookers as her dress disappeared into the cluster of bodies, some now looking from the boxing ring where they had climbed in and gathered along one side.
“Orange juice, orange juice, orange juice….”
The bizarre and surreal chant was totally unexpected as it met Belinda’s ears. It was their carrion-call. Many clapped along until it became a jumble of noise, slowly morphing into what they had all come to see.
“Strip …strip …strip …” now prevailed.
Not a continual, whispering chatter of subliminal urge this time. It was a hand-clapping, foot-stomping drum of determined insistence. In Belinda’s increasingly compliant and befuddled state, the resolute drum-beat of solicitation was irresistible, and she couldn’t prevent her fingers sliding under her bra straps one at a time and slipping them from her shoulders. The tops of the breast cups fell away, and she swivelled the clasp to the front. She gently swayed as she stood with her chin on her chest, looking down at her fingers as they released the tiny hooks. Her right hand pulled the yellow frilly garment away from her body and held it aloft to cheers from the throng of excited faces. A random arm reached out from the jostling mass and took charge of the limp yellow garment, throwing it up and away over the sea of heads, causing another surge of cheers which drowned out the petering chanting.
But again it started, resuming the same insistent thumping drum-beat….
“Strip … strip … strip ….”
Some of the girls in the front row were virtually drooling with anticipation now, with those further back jostling for a better view. They all knew this was Sissy Chrissy’s mom. She’d come here to complain, to oversee some kind of punishment, to seek some retribution. But their underhanded ways had caused her to place her own shoe on the other foot, and now here she was, standing in only a pair of shoes and panties, and about to strip herself naked right before their very eyes. The atmosphere of anticipation was electric, and many hearts were thumping and hot blood was pumping. Their evil plans were coming together and stage one was on the home run. This was the first exciting theatre since they’d taken care of that interloping, interfering Trish bitch a couple of weeks back. She’d interrupted their fun, but for several days her and her tender and swollen vagina and lash-streaked breasts and ass regretted ever going near their sacred turf. It was doubtful she’d ever gate-crash their activities again. But on the other hand, she was a B two, so anything was possible. But naïve stupidity was not an excuse to avoid despicable torment in this neck of the woods, and the word ‘mercy’ was not in their play-book.
“Hey, Trish … want some more orange juice?” …….…”Yes please!”
The chanting continued ………….
“Strip…. Strip …. Strip…. Strip.”
//////////////////////////
The two male maintenance men stopped in their tracks, and almost as one, turned towards the windows. Stepping forwards, they stood side by side, grasping the horizontal safety-rail which ran the whole length of the observation windows.
“Fuckin’ ‘ell, they’ve got another one,” said the tallest and oldest called Tom.
“Where the hell they get ‘em from, and how the friggin’ fuck do they get away with it?” asked Reece, not expecting and answer. “This must be the tenth this year.”
“Who gives a monkeys? Just don’t get your cock out.” replied Tom as he arched his back and leant his crossed fore-arms on the cross-rail to take some weight. Unspoken, he was settling in to watch. Reece remained stood upright still holding the rail. Even though he’d know Tom for years, there was no way he was going to stick his ass out while this degenerate spectacle was unfolding down below,
//////////////////////
Belinda was standing, swaying, unsteady on her feet, in just her yellow panties and a pair of flat leather shoes. Her blurred and intermittent vision surveyed the throng. The circle of girls must’ve been 6 or 7 deep, but who cares, she thought to herself. The chanting wasn’t words to her anymore. It was more like the footsteps of marching soldiers on gravel …. Chip …chip … chip….
Her eyelids were as heavy as lead, and she allowed them to close. I haven’t the strength, she conceded. I can’t fight this anymore. She stood in darkness and swayed.
She felt her shoulders being pinched in a vice-like grip by which were more like talons than fingers. She felt herself shake, or was she being shaken? She really didn’t care anymore.
Suddenly it felt like her nostrils were on fire, and her eyes flew open like saucers.
“That’s it. Come back to me, baby. We’s still a long ways to go.”
The bottle of boxer’s smelling salts was immediately replaced in its’ allotted spot. All these girls were bullies and as heartless as they come, but they knew not to vex any boxers.
Belinda looked around. She seemed surprised to be encircled by a large group of girls.
“Oh, hello,” she said at no-one in particular, as she raised her hand to half mast and gave the weakest of lame greeting waves.
The circle of girls giggled that unique, girly-group giggle, and were knowingly nudging each other with their elbows.
“Come on, sweetie, time for your shower,” a voice behind her decreed.
“Oh, ok,” answered Belinda, as meek as a lamb, and raised a foot to take a step forward.
“No, no, no,” the lone unseen voice firmly corrected. “You have to get undressed first.”
“Oh,” exclaimed Belinda, enlightened to her unwitting mistake.
“Here will do. Come on, put your foot up here. We’d better start with your shoes.”
Belinda looked down, and crouched down before her in a pin-tuck dive pose was a girl kneeling prone on the floor. One foot at a time, like it was the most natural thing in the world, this human footstool was used, and Belinda now stood in bare feet.
“We don’t want these to get wet in the shower, do we?” as her favourite and very expensive flat heals were waved under her nose, and Belinda vacantly and wordlessly shook her head ‘no’.
“Thought not,” said the supervising voice, and with a lightening quick flick of an extended arm, both shoes flew off into the distance.
The still crouching foot-stool felt a light kick in her thigh, her cue to revert to being an observer.
“Nearly there, honeybuns,” soothed the supervising voice. “We’ll just be a few moments longer.”
As Belinda stood swaying with her arms at her sides and wearing only yellow lace panties, you could cut the silent tension with a knife.
“Belinda,” the voice spoke up quite brusquely to grab her attention and signal a decree may be next.
“Mmmm?” Belinda acknowledged the signal and was attentive.
“Something concerns me greatly.”
“Mmmm?” hummed Belinda in a rising tone translated as ‘what is it?’
“You appear to have something attached to the outside of your panties at the front. Like there’s a squashed grape stuck there or something. We can’t have contaminants in the shower, now, can we? Can you scratch it off for me?”
A collective lascivious intake of breath rippled through the onlooking throng.
“Mmmm,” hummed Belinda, blindly accepting that this ludicrous and highly improbable situation was indeed worthy of urgent and appropriate correction.
“Come on, then, scratch it off quickly or else we may miss your turn in the shower.”
Blinking and briefly glancing down, then staring straight ahead to maintain her balance, Belinda’s right hand moved the short journey from its dangle at her thigh to the front of her loins. Four fingers commenced scratching at the fabric which covered the slight bulge of her pubis.
“That’s not quite the right spot, honeykins. It’s just a bit lower.”
Belinda ‘Mmm’ed’ acknowledgment she was slightly off target and dropped her labors roughly one inch.
“That’s about the right spot, but with four fingers, you’re casting too wide-a net. Reduce your work to one finger.”
On hearing these instructions the onlooking crush all sounded to be afflicted with hyper-ventilation.
Belinda’s first finger commenced lightly scratching where her clitoris would be, but too softly for the desired effect.
“That’s great, now you’re getting it,” encouraged the supervising voice, “but it seems much more ingrained than I very first thought. Use just your second finger and apply more pressure, and you’ll be scratching that sucker clean off.”
Again Belinda adjusted her method of approach to the task, and started scratching quite hard with her second finger nail.
“Still not getting it. Scratching’s not working too well. I think rubbing it off would work far better. Second finger, press quite hard, and rub up and down quite quickly. Keep that up, and you’ll rub that dirty little hookey off in no time.”
These words causing an all-round murmur of dirty sniggers of their own.
The instructions were spot on money. Belinda’s second finger nestled into the soft folds of her aroused sex through the fabric, sinking deeper as she commenced rubbing up and down with purpose.
“That’s it, honeybuns. Keep going like that and you’ll soon get it off.”
The sneering laughter of the assembly became hoots of encouragement as Belinda warmed to her task. Her slowly see-sawing finger was working the thin wet yellow fabric deeper into her sex with every stroke. Her finger began moving faster as it seemed to disappear, the fabric lewdly folding around to envelope this welcome intruder. Within half a minute, her actions plateaued in a smooth, steady rhythm. The plump and swollen outer lips of her now fully engorged sex were clearly visible through the sopping wet yellow thin fabric. Her nostrils flared, and her moans became louder and more carnal. Faint tremors wracked her torso and her legs twitched a knee-buckling dance. The cat-calls from the crowd became vindictive. A barbed spur, urging her towards a grand-finale, where she would surely collapse in a sobbing mess of self-inflicted orgasmic humiliation. The supervisor allowed this vulgar performance to continue for several, long, adrenaline-pumping moments, then bam, abruptly called proceedings to a halt.
Belinda’s bright red flush had been steadily building, spreading to her neck and then her breasts as her actions had clearly morphed into blatant and urgent masturbation.
Belinda abruptly stopped at the call. She was panting and breathless, her continuing tremors patently showing signs of crazed frustration at having to abort her almost completed sweet mission.
The disappointed crowd vented a blanket of ‘aww’, accompanied by more than one angry ‘boo’.
“What the hell do think you’re doing? You’re making it worse,” admonished the voice. “That damn grape stain is smeared all over the place now. Maybe we should get a professional cleaner to do the job, what d’ya say?”
“Mmmm,” hummed Belinda in apparent agreement. She was way too spaced to make a judgement.
“All righty then,” declared the decisive voice, having been given approval to change tactic. “Does anyone in this audience have cleaning skills proficient enough to attempt the task of removing this stubborn grape stain?”
Immediately a whole forest of arms shot vertical, accompanied by raucous clamours of me me me.
“It seems not a single person is willing to give it a try,” shouted the voice to out-volume the ruckus as she slowly spun on her heal, The forest of arms responded to her tease with frantic thrashing as the cacophony of clamour rose to deafening proportions.
“You’re all freakin’ animals, you know that?” said the voice with a broad smile, amused to know she was not the only sick and twisted pervert in the room, and knowing her words at normal volume had almost certainly gone unheard amidst the din.
“All right, all right, all right,” she then shouted, waving her arms as if flagging down an oncoming vehicle.
After what was almost a full minute, even the most ardent of enthusiastic volunteers fell silent.
“I want to play fair,” her voice sincere. “Who in this audience was not party to the education and enlightenment of Trish Trash the other week? And don’t lie to me. Y’all know what happens to liars.”
Several arms dotted around the crowd shot up, along with the inevitable ‘me, me,’ cat-calls.
“Ok… I’m gonna close my eyes and spin around a couple of times, and then point straight ahead, like a human spin the bottle. That sound fair?” which returned a vocal flurry of acceptance.
………..
The appointee elbowed and threaded her way through a small but tight maze of slightly resentful and very envious cronies and walked over to stand toe-to-toe with Belinda. The new participant in this one sided, underhanded joust was tall and slim. Not heavy duty muscular, but even in her college uniform it was quite apparent she was toned and fit. She was noticeably taller, perhaps four inches. Even if Belinda was fully lucid and they had a cat fight, not a dollar one would be wagered on Belinda to win. Somehow, this contest just didn’t seem fair.
“No rules,” decreed the supervising voice, “except these four…. Start slow …. Don’t finish her off …. no rough stuff, ‘cos you know that comes later …. And damn well stop when I tell you.”
The new girl gave a slight nod of deference to the terms of engagement, then methodically set about her task.
As Belinda gently swayed with her eyes tight shut, she had no real concept of what had just transpired.
The new girl stooped to whisper soothing words of reassurance. She’d seen this done before and wanted Belinda to suffer the same sweet agony. Her conquest would be frustratingly slow.
“You’ve still got that horrible blight on your panties. If the shower-cleaner lady sees it, we’ll all get in big trouble, so I’m here to help you get it off, ok? I’m going to stand behind you now to get a better sway, so don’t be startled by my touch.”
True to her word, she shuffled around and up close so they were fully touching. With her buxom bosom pressing at Belinda’s back, she swung her left arm around, her hand cupping Belinda’s naked right breast, the arm then tensioning, drawing, holding the two bodies close in a firm, loving hug of support. This was going to be a sordid reach-around, and she didn’t want Belinda collapsing in defeat.
Positioning herself so her lips where touching Belinda’s earlobe as she spoke, the heartless seduction began.
“Your hair is so beautiful and smooth, and your shampoo smells divine, let me breathe it in,”
Her lips latched onto Belinda’s earlobe, inflicting a series of silent, sucking tugs, interspaced with long, slow, top to bottom licks of its protruding curve. Her tongue stiffened and extended and probed its small and shallow depths. Gentle teeth-clamp tugs on her earlobe followed, before more caresses and nibbles, then several more rounds of the same. She swapped her attention to the opposite ear, and as she commenced its erotic attention, the open palm of her free hand slowly slithered down from the bottom of Belinda’s breast, maintaining contact, slow, ever so slow, all the way down the smooth, exposed abdomen until the tips of her fingers felt the tickle-prickle of the frilly trim waistband of her panties. She’d watched on as Belinda had masturbated herself to the brink of orgasm, and knew what lay hidden under that thinnest of fabrics. To be taken to the edge, and then be held back ….. the blueprint for a wide open goal.
“Does that feel good, babe? I’m going to touch you now. Touch that nasty stain on your front. See if I can rub it away. If I’d had my way, I’d have taken my knife and slashed it and hacked it ‘till no-one would’ve known it had ever been there. I’ve done it before, you know… cut away something I thought shouldn’t be there. But that was a man. I got my big hunting knife and …... Well, it shouldn’t have been there in the first place. A big warm sloppy slit is much nicer. A nice, warm, sloppy hole to play in. He seemed so much nicer with his big new sloppy hole, so it was a shame he had to so quickly fade away …. I’d never use my hunting knife on you though. No need to slit anything on you. Somebody’s already given you a nice big juicy slit. May I feel it? May I feel your slit? It’s underneath that dirty stain. Sometimes those stains go away by themselves, so we could come back to that later. See if it’s gone away all by itself. It might, you know. We’ll give it a while longer to see if it has. We can check on your warm juicy slit while we’re waiting.”
All the while she had been talking, her fingers had pressed into Belinda’s soft abdomen at the pantie waistband creating their own little bikini-bridge to sneak their way inside the tickly lace waistband. Then down, down those fingers crept, slow and insidious. They discovered a clean shaven mound around the time of the hunting knife, but that pleasant revelation didn’t distract them from their relentless wriggling journey to their slippery wet goal. They wanted to be the first to claim pussy violation of their latest drugged-up sissy, and they were hell-bent on securing their prize. They’ve been given first dibs at an aroused, wet puss, and were gonna make damn sure they found their way inside. Those fingers wanted to slide into that warm and wet love-box while it still felt all nice, tight and cosy. They knew what was coming, and about an hour from now, tight and cosy would not be the case.
“Oh… oh..” Belinda gave a double squeak as her torso gave two short sharp convulsions and her knees commenced a jigging jive dance. Prior notice of arrival had duly been given, but when unseen fingers had brushed against her aroused and tender love bud, it was as still a shock and surprise.
Too late for stopping, or offering defence, as those insidious fingers probed for a chink in Belinda’s weakened armour.
And as two devilish fingers hooked up and in, gaining full trespass into their warm and wet prize, the girl triumphantly declared victory with the hiss of a resounding “Yes”, which was answered with riotous cheers from the leering and lecherous throng.
The onlookers were ecstatic their victim had been dragged through the first of many humiliating violations to come.
Belinda’s journey to enslavement was now well and truly underway.
…………..
“But why?” asked Chrissie as two of her classmates caused her to stand still as they deftly adjusted the fastenings of her ominously large and ribbed, bulbous strap-on.
“Retribution,” said one of the girls. “They attacked you, and now it will be your chance to get back at one of them. She’s being stripped, lubed and tied as we speak. Don’t you want to do to her what she did to you?”
“Yes, but ….”
“Don’t worry, then. We’ll be there to guide you through. You’ll be doing this to please us too, you know. We’re all on your side,” oozed another girl as she fastened Chrissie’s blind-fold securely in place.
“We’ll be with you every step of the way. It’ll be our collective revenge you’ll be dishing out to that horrible, nasty bitch. Trust me, Chrissie, watching you do this will be absolutely and totally fucking awesome.”