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Wednesday, 1 March 2017

Mr Mascoll’s Playsuit

Story from Uniform Girls 13. The re-appearance of the inventive Mr Mascoll from Flights of Fancy.
A girl in a garden. A very pretty garden and a very pretty girl. A pretty English garden on a warm and drowsy summer afternoon. The pretty girl is English too.
The garden is large, spacious, kept private from prying eyes by a wealth of shrouding evergreen trees and shrubs. Within this protective greenery is an immaculate expanse of close-trimmed lawn with at either side arbours and pergolas of climbing red and pink roses. Beyond is a large ornamental pond in which golden-orange fish glide between pink water lilies. The water has attracted bright blue dragonflies which flit above its surface, now and then alighting on lily pads. The water has also attracted the pretty girl.
She is seated in a deckchair on the paved front area watching the fish and dragonflies. She is tall and shapely and ash blonde in addition to being pretty. Long slim youthful limbs lightly tanned, coltish. The bare legs are spread unselfconsciously for there is no one else here to see. No one in the garden, no one in the house. Not yet anyway. She is wearing a playsuit.
Or at least that is what Mr Purley called it. When he produced it yesterday. With perhaps a slightly apologetic smile on his face. ‘It’s a playsuit.’
Alison had taken it from him without speaking. Frowning she had examined it, frowning even more as she studied its various features. A querying look at Mr Purley. ‘Look…’
Mr Purley had grinned. ‘It’s a playsuit,’ he repeated. ‘It’s just how I want it — or at least I think it is.’ He grinned again. ‘A playsuit for playing games. I mean it all depends what games you want to play, doesn’t it?’
Alison had said ‘Cripes!’ and then, ‘I don’t know. I mean…’
She got a playful slap on her bottom. ‘Don’t be silly. It’s only a playsuit. He’s coming tomorrow. And he’ll want to see what it’s like on. You can be here tomorrow? In the afternoon.’
Yes she could, it was the school holidays, though she tried to get out of it, Mr Purley had insisted. Tomorrow was today. That is why Alison is now sitting here by Mr Purley’s pond, waiting. Mr Purley is out, had to go out for some reason or other. Maybe gone out so that Mr Mascoll can be all by himself to examine his playsuit. Considering this Alison makes a face. Mr Mascoll is a funny character all right, what with his playsuits and all that. But still he is well-off, like Mr Purley is well-off. And generous — if you are co-operative, that is. And a girl who likes to make an odd pound or two on the q.t. has to think of these facts. Even if it does mean funny playsuits.
This one is the funniest yet. If funny is the right word. Mr Mascoll must be really racking his brains thinking up something like this. There are the zips for one thing. The top of the suit has two zips and so does the bottom. The top zips go right over Alison’s boobs. So that if the zippers are unzipped your nipples come out. Not only come out but are in danger of getting painfully caught in the sharp teeth. Alison knows this because yesterday when she put it on Mr Purley opened the zips to demonstrate. One of her nipples got sort of caught and it was like the sharp teeth of some wild animal (a ferret?) had got her there. Mr Purley of course had been very sympathetic, rubbing it better with his fingers.
And then there are the zippers in the bottom part. At the sides, on your hips. These ones open completely, Mr Purley showed her that as well. So that the bottom part of the suit can be taken off without taking it down over your legs.
There is something else too to Mr Mascoll’s special suit. The rings. Rings attached to the belt which is separate; rings also attached to the shoulders of the top. And there are those ankle things that you put on over your socks, they have rings as well.
The whole thing, put together, gives food for a lot of thought. Alison is thinking, frowning a bit, as she watches the fish and dragonflies. As she has been thinking ever since yesterday afternoon when she was round here, in the house, and shown Mr Mascoll’s funny suit. Very soon old Mr Mascoll will be here to try out his suit. And then she will know.
The fact is that if she wasn’t so keen to get a bit of extra pocket money she wouldn’t be in this position. Mr Purley and Mr Mascoll. And funny suits. It is her own fault. That thought doesn’t make her feel any better, though.
‘Hello, sweet child.’
Oh God. Yes, Mr Mascoll. He had let himself in because he had a key from Mr Purley. Then come silently across the lawn. Oh Cripes! Alison wasn’t at all sure she wanted the money but it was too late to think that.
‘Ah. Oh yes. Stand up please, Alison.’
She struggled to her feet, her face now flushing. Mr Mascoll was all eyes naturally. Peering closely, seeing his brilliant brain-child for the first time. He moved round behind. ‘Mmmmm. Oh yes.’ His hand suddenly at Alison’s bottom through the quite tight material of the suit. Groping a bit.
‘What d’you think, Alison?’
Alison didn’t know what she thought except that she’d rather not be here in this playsuit with Mr Mascoll. She shrugged.
‘Well I think that person has done a very good job. Really quite excellent. It is exactly as I envisaged. Or so it seems. Of course we’ll have to, er, try it out, won’t we? To see that, er…  Shall we go in?’
No Alison would rather not go in but of course he wasn’t actually asking her. No, she’d much rather… But Mr Mascoll had hold of her arm and was firmly turning her. Marching her off.
In through the French windows that Mr Mascoll had come out of. Inside in Mr Purley’s posh house it was cooler, nice after the hot sun outside. Except that it wasn’t nice, not when you thought what… Alison shivered. In the drawing room Mr Mascoll turned her to face him. He was smiling, a smile of keen anticipation.
His fingers reached out for a zipper. The left top one. Alison squeaked an involuntary ‘Hey!
‘What?’ queried Mr Mascoll, fingers closing on Alison’s left boob.
She forced herself to stand still and not squirm away. She could recall all too vividly what had happened yesterday — her nipple somehow getting caught. It had really hurt. But on the other hand you could hardly expect Mr Mascoll not to want to undo the zips. He would be paying for the suit. And he was also paying Alison.
‘N… nothing. It’s just… uh, please be careful.’
‘I am always careful,’ Mr Mascoll smirked. Alison held her breath. It was OK. The zipper was open. Her nipple with all the tension or excitement or whatever was sort of half stiffened up. Pushing plumply out between the two rows of horrid scary metal teeth.
‘Pretty good, eh?’ Mr Mascoll’s finger and thumb took hold of the nipple. Squeezing. Alison gave a little squeak. Her nipples were very sensitive and she couldn’t help them responding to this sort of thing.
‘You see,’ said Mr Mascoll. ‘With these handy zippers a girl can open up and let some fresh air in. That’s very healthy for a young person.’
He slid down the other zip, over Alison’s right boob. Both nipples now sticking out, like two plump pink soldiers. Mr Mascoll took hold of both, rubbing and rolling them. Alison made an ‘Eeekkk!’ sound.
‘Yes this is very good. Now we need to look at the rest, don’t we? The shorts and that. And I rather think, er, upstairs for that, eh?’
This statement did not come as a surprise, Alison had expected it. She didn’t want to go upstairs with Mr Mascoll, especially not with these funny shorts on but you couldn’t argue with him. Not when you accepted money. Because if your mother found out, or the Headmistress…
She went up. With Mr Mascoll naturally close behind her rhythmically flexing rear divisions. Into the little bedroom.
The two top zippers were still undone. Mr Mascoll gave Alison’s pouting nipples another tweak. Then he turned her round, back towards him, and took her hands and put them together behind her back. Next to where that black ring was on the belt. He gave a little laugh.
Then he moved her wrists round the front again and up, next to the rings on the shoulders of the playsuit top. Another little laugh. From Mr Mascoll. Certainly not from Alison who didn’t find Mr Mascoll’s playsuit funny at all. She just wished she wasn’t here having to play funny games that weren’t at all funny in playsuits that weren’t funny either. What time was it anyway? She had better be back home in time for tea. Alison glanced unhappily towards the bed.
Mr Mascoll said, ‘Yes it does seem to be an excellent piece of work. So let’s have you on the bed, shall we. And, er, see the rest.’
Alison had been expecting that and she did not at all fancy the prospect.
‘No, not on the bed,’ she protested. But Mr Mascoll was not going to take any notice of that, not when keen exciting pleasure was involved. He said ‘Yes,’  quite a lot more sharply and pinched Alison’s bottom and firmly pushed her in that direction. She made a wailing sound but didn’t really fight it.
On the bed. And then spread her arms and legs out. Alison’s feet with those funny ankle things on pointed towards the bottom corner posts of the double bed and her hands up pointed towards the top posts. Spread-eagled. Mr Mascoll sat on the side looking down. He looked very excited too, sort of breathy.
 ‘Stay in that position, Alison. As if you really are…’
His hand was at her shorts of course. At one of the side zips. One of the zips that would come completely open allowing the two halves to separate. This was what Mr Mascoll did. Of course. And then did it to the other side. Alison knew he was going to do it, that was what the shorts were designed for, but even so…
 No!’ she squealed. Her spread legs automatically came together.
Don’t!’ Mr Mascoll with the look of a boy whose toy wasn’t working properly. ‘Don’t do that, Alison. You must keep still and in position. How can I…? Or do you want me to…?’
No she didn’t. He couldn’t anyway, not here. Mr Purley wouldn’t let him. She knew that. Alison knew he was going to want to do it but that would be when he had tested the suit and paid for it and then got Alison round at his house. But he couldn’t do it here, not in Mr Purley’s house. Theoretically she would have the choice of not agreeing to it, round at Mr Mascoll’s house. But she knew she would even though it would be hateful and scary. He would persuade her. And also Alison was greedy for extra secret pocket money.
She was back in position, making herself hold that spread-eagled pose. Mr Mascoll had the playsuit shorts off now, with both zippers open just pulling the shorts off between her legs.
Don’t…’ she wailed.
Mr Mascoll smirked. ‘Don’t be silly. You know you like it. All girls do.’
Alison didn’t. She didn’t like Mr Mascoll or Mr Purley doing it. But after a bit she couldn’t help responding.
‘Keep your legs open,’ urged Mr Mascoll’s breathy voice. ‘Self control, Alison.’
Afterwards he spanked her. Made her lift her legs up in the air and hold them there and then smacked Alison’s bare bum. Mr Mascoll’s hard hand splatting down onto the upturned cheeks. Right after that other it hurt even more than normal because she was all hot and bothered.
And after that Mr Mascoll said tomorrow afternoon at his house. Alison wanted to say no but she couldn’t. She had tried saying no to things before but Mr Mascoll had threatened to tell — her mother or the school — about some of the things she had done. And also of course there was what they called the financial inducement.
It was not a nice prospect. Alison lay awake in bed that night thinking about it. Mr Mascoll and his funny playsuit and the funny games he was going to want to play. She tried to forget it, trying to concentrate instead on Mr Purley’s gliding golden-orange fish. The pink water lilies. Those darting, hovering bright blue dragonflies, but besides the prospect of Mr Mascoll there was also that other ‘not to be spoken of’ business of Uncle George and the rather peculiar ‘Girl Guide’ outfit run by his friend, the Reverend Smithers. Alison would much rather not be a member of the ‘Adventurers’, but she was more or less committed to going off on one of the Rev. Smithers’ weekends; she went to sleep thinking of those embarrassing bottomless shorts they all had to wear. Wasn’t it funny, how all the people who wanted to dress her up in funny ‘uniforms’ only seemed to want to do it so that they could have the fun of undressing her again.
Read Alison’s further adventures with the Reverend Smithers and others in Adventuring and The Swimming Lesson.

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