Story from Blushes 17 following the academic progress of Susan Maidment from Oxford Candidates.
The envelope bore the crest of St Edwards College and inside as expected was the invitation to interview. ‘How exciting!’ exclaimed Susan’s mother, and it was exciting even though it was expected and an invitation to an interview didn’t mean you had got in.
‘What will you wear,’ Mrs Maidment went on excitedly. ‘Something nice and grown-up of course. You want to show them what a pretty young lady you are; they don’t want any of that shrinking blue-stocking stuff nowadays.’
Susan’s mother clearly hadn’t changed in her estimation of what counted as regards getting in to an Oxford College. Looking grown-up and, well, sexy had been the way to go and persuade Mr Fulton to give her extra tuition for the Oxford exam — and to be fair it had worked. Look pretty and sexy and be willing and co-operative and... well, do exactly what Mr Fulton wanted. And what Mr Fulton wanted had come as an undeniable shock to 17½ year old Susan — though evidently not a shock to her mother.
Mr Fulton’s cane for one thing. ‘If we are to work harmoniously together, Susan, I shall expect strict discipline and I shall expect you to accept my enforcement of it.’ That cane really stung, like a thousand hornets all at your bare bottom at the same time. And it left bright red stripes that Susan’s mother had certainly seen — when Susan was in the bathroom for instance.
Susan had in fact found out that Diane Wilmot who had gone up to St Edwards last year hadn’t got the cane from Mr Fulton although she had got all the extra tuition. Diane had come back to school and they had had an intimate little chat. ‘Is he caning you?’ Diane had laughed. She hadn’t been caned apparently because her mother might see the marks and her mother, unlike Susan’s mother, would not have approved. It was Diane’s uncle who had arranged the extra tuition with Mr Fulton. Diane, blushing slightly, had explained that she had got her bottom smacked instead.
And had Diane also got the other? Susan had been too embarrassed to ask. Susan’s mother knew about that as well. That other thing that Mr Fulton said a grown-up girl need to relieve all the tension which necessarily came with working for a major exam. A week after that first weekend at his house when Susan had been introduced to Mr Fulton’s very special, very own tension-reliever, Susan’s mother had made an appointment for her at the doctor’s. Dr Hailbury had clearly been briefed. After his check-up he said she was in excellent health and there was no reason at all why Susan couldn’t go on the pill. He proceeded to write out a prescription...
Susan’s mother still didn’t say anything directly about Mr Fulton, just, ‘the pill is a very good thing, I think, Susan. It does give a woman freedom and you are a young woman now. But of course you mustn’t be promiscuous, dear; no one respects a promiscuous girl.’
In other words evidently she must let Mr Fulton do it because Mr Fulton could get her into Oxford, but not anyone else. Susan didn’t really mind, Mr Fulton wasn’t unpleasant and he could be very charming. And doing that was certainly preferable to getting the cane. The cane was really awful; it was humiliating and it hurt, but Mr Fulton, in spite of being charming at times, clearly liked using his cane. The same as he liked doing that other.
Most remarkably Mrs Fulton hadn’t seemed bothered by any of this. She obviously knew about it because most of it took place in her own home. She knew that Susan was getting her bare bottom caned because once or twice she had inadvertently entered Mr Fulton’s study when the cane was being applied. And she must also know about the other which took place mostly in that bedroom Susan used when she stayed overnight. But Sylvia Fulton remained charming and friendly; very subservient to Mr Fulton of course.
The letter for the interview came towards the end of the Autumn Term. After about seven weeks of solid hard work on Susan’s part; in spite of those other aspects of tuition from Mr Fulton she was able to work. Perhaps it was the right formula; discipline and the ‘tension reliever’.
‘I should wear that new black suspender belt,’ Mrs Maidment advised her daughter. ‘Men do like such little items and it is, well...’
‘Quite charming’ was what Susan’s mother finally came up with. ‘Quite sexy’ was what she meant. And what did that mean? Was Susan expected, when she went up for the interview, to be ‘co-operative’ and ‘friendly’ and ‘willing’ and... well, all the other things she was with Mr Fulton?
Susan travelled to Oxford on the train, into London and then the London train to Oxford. She was to stay two nights in between interviews and doing the examination papers. For the trip Susan wore her best charcoal grey suit, with a white blouse and black high-heels, plus a lightweight coat on top. Underneath she did have on the new black suspender belt plus a pair of white cotton briefs.
Mr Fulton certainly approved of the black suspender belt — and the cotton briefs. He said it was a very sophisticated outfit. This was round at his place prior to Mr Fulton taking Susan to the station, Mrs Fulton was out which was convenient, although of course Mrs Fulton didn’t seem to mind about Susan. Susan had taken off her coat and was sitting on the sofa for a cup of tea that Mr Fulton had made and it was then that he discovered the new black suspender straps.
‘Very sophisticated and attractive,’ was Mr Fulton’s verdict and he clearly found them exciting. So much so that... Susan protested that she might miss the train but Mr Fulton, red-faced, said there was plenty of time and in any case there was another train soon afterwards. So Susan’s charcoal grey suit, both the jacket and the skirt, came off and so did the cotton briefs — right there on the sofa.
Mr Fulton said it would relax her for the trip and it was true Susan was very excited. She certainly hadn’t expected to be doing that right before though. Afterwards it was a terrible rush, leaping into her clothes again and frantically doing something about her hair and make-up which was all a mess. So with all that it could hardly be said that she was very relaxed. In fact Susan did miss the train but there was the other one soon after and Mr Fulton said he would phone through to tell the college she would be on the later train.
He said Good Luck at the station and added, ‘Remember to give my very best regards to Dr Guildford.’
Dr Guildford was his contact at St Edwards. Dr Guildford was Senior Tutor and so clearly influential. It was Dr Guildford that Susan was going to have to impress — with her knowledge of French and History and also it would seem with her black suspender belt etc.
Mr Fulton’s message got through all right and Susan was met at the station by the college porter, Mr Parker. ‘Had a good trip?’ he smiled taking Susan’s case, when she located him. Yes she had had a good trip, very pleasant, travelling First Class which Mr Fulton had paid for saying there was no point mixing with possibly common elements. There had in fact been just one, oldish gentleman in Susan’s carriage for most of the journey. He had been very friendly and most interested when she said she was going to Oxford for an interview. He had also, Susan couldn’t help noticing, been quite interested in her legs. He was sitting opposite where of course he could get a good look. The skirt of Susan’s suit was quite short but she didn’t think this gentleman could see her suspenders.
Anyway he had wanted to know her address and telephone number and after a little hesitation Susan told him. He was clearly a gentleman with a proper accent and also it was First Class. Mr Hartington — that was his name — said he’d like to show Susan round London some time. He got her suitcase down when they arrived in Oxford and helped her on with her coat. In the process of doing these things he put his hands on Susan’s bottom. He also put his hand on her bottom when they came out along the corridor.
So Susan was looking quite flush-faced when she met Mr Parker. Mr Hartington feeling up her bottom but also no doubt as well the excitement of being in Oxford. Where if all went well she would come up next year for three whole years. That was if she did all right in the exam and impressed this Dr Guildford.
‘Yes, super thanks,’ she said to Mr Parker. He was what you might call a youngish-middle-aged, 40ish perhaps, in a dark suit and tie. He wasn’t bad looking, for someone that age, but Susan wasn’t sure she liked him.
For one thing he straight away said, grinning, ‘So you’re Dr Guildford’s bit of fluff — sorry I mean candidate.’ He laughed as if he’d made a marvellous joke. Susan would have liked to make some sharp rejoinder but on the spur of the moment couldn’t think of anything so she retained a dignified silence. Mr Parker also had a cockney accent. Mr Hartington on the train might have felt up her bottom but at least he was a gentleman.
They went off in a big, rather grand, black car, Susan sitting next to Mr Parker. He asked if she was nervous and Susan admitted that she was. He laughed and said, ‘No need to be, a pretty girl like you with those pretty knees. Our Dr Guildford’s got a soft spot for pretty girls.’
When Mr Parker said ‘those pretty knees’ his left hand left the steering wheel and slid down to squeeze one nylon-clad limb. Susan pushed the hand away. She didn’t want that from a college porter, thank you very much. Mr Parker just laughed again, so he wasn’t annoyed at least. Susan didn’t wish to annoy him because the college porter could have influence, though in a minor way of course.
They were now driving through the town, dreaming spires to right and left, all very exciting. And very soon, down a narrow side street and in through an ancient gateway and they were in the courtyard of St Edwards itself. Mr Parker, getting Susan’s case out of the boot, said that Dr Guildford was likely to be tied up for a little while but she could come in his place and he’d make a cup of tea. That was very nice of him but it soon seemed, sitting with Mr Parker on the sofa in his cosy sitting room, that he had other things in mind besides simply giving her a cup of tea.
Right out of the blue he said he could let her see what would be on the General Paper she would have to take tomorrow. That naturally quite took Susan’s breath away and she almost dropped her cup and saucer. As she looked wide-eyed at Mr Parker he put his hand on her knee, just like earlier in that big black car.
‘That’s cheating,’ Susan gasped, too shocked for the moment to push the hand away and also, anyway, having her hands full. ‘Not really,’ grinned Mr Parker, squeezing the knee. ‘You’ve still got to answer the questions. And also it evens things up. Some of those old boys in this college don’t like girls so they give them a very hard time in the interview.’
As Susan’s shocked mind considered this startling new turn of events the hand slid up under her skirt to her nylon tops. Given the situation this was perhaps not unexpected. ‘Please...’ she said weakly. But she didn’t actually try to stop the hand. For one thing Susan’s own hands were still occupied, rather shakily, with cup and saucer. And also there was the undoubted fact that Mr Parker was not going to produce these questions for free. You could be pretty sure of that. ‘Please...’ she whispered. ‘I couldn’t. And please don’t...’
But she was still not actually stopping the hand which had now progressed onto Susan’s warm thighs. Those thighs which in the past weeks Mr Fulton had taken such pleasure in, in between expounding on European History and French Literature and such like.
‘All’s fair in love and war and college entrances,’ said Mr Parker, thrusting his hand down in between Susan’s silky thighs.
There didn’t seem much option but to accept, not with Mr Parker implying that other girls did and also if girls were being unfairly treated anyway. Susan knew what her mother would say: ‘Go ahead.’ And she had a pretty good idea that her mother wouldn’t want her to quibble at the price, although she would not want to discuss it. Because as with everything there was a price to be paid and it wasn’t going to be merely stroking Susan’s thighs and fiddling with her suspender straps or even, as Mr Parker was now doing, stroking her pussy with his fingertips (Susan had sensibly put down the cup and saucer and was now half lying on the sofa with her legs somewhat apart). No, Mr Parker wanted something more than that, it seemed in fact he wanted all that a pretty almost-18-year-old girl had to give.
Susan certainly didn’t want to give that, in particular as Mr Parker was only the college porter. Not that she was really snobbish but he did have a very strong cockney accent and she knew her mother wouldn’t think very much of that at all. There was no doubt that Mrs Maidment would hate to think of her daughter being (if you wanted to use a coarse word as some girls at school did) fucked by a college porter with a cockney accent. But at the same time Mrs Maidment definitely would want Susan to get a look at those papers.
Mrs Maidment would have been in the same quandary that Susan was in but Susan had no doubt that if Mr Parker wasn’t going to accept anything else — as it seemed he wasn’t — then well...
‘What about Dr Guildford?’ Susan whispered as, shortly, in Mr Parker’s adjoining bedroom, he began unbuttoning her suit jacket. ‘Isn’t he waiting for me?’
Mr Parker said not to worry, there was plenty of time. He proceeded to take all Susan’s clothes off except for the black suspender belt and her cotton briefs and black high-heeled shoes. Then he removed his own shoes and trousers and then his underpants. Susan looked... and felt quite dizzy. Mr Parker was enormous. Or so it looked. Mr Fulton of course had always been somewhat circumspect in such matters. It was a question of feeling it but not exactly seeing it. So she had never really seen it standing up like that. So perhaps that was why it seemed so big...?
But when Susan was shortly on the bed with Mr Parker there was no doubt that it was big. Larger than Mr Fulton all right. It was obviously just as well that she had had all that practice with Mr Fulton first.
Dr Guildford was Mr Fulton’s age, tall and scholarly-looking, and he had been waiting for Susan (‘Was your train delayed, my dear?’) so it was clear that Mr Parker had just said that so that he could do Susan first. At least, though, she was going to see that paper, Mr Parker was bringing it round to her room in the evening. Flushing, Susan apologised to Dr Guildford, telling a little lie and saying that the train had been a bit late.
‘Not to worry,’ he said, leading Susan into his room which had a nice fire blazing and of course was somewhat more grand than Mr Parker’s. ‘So you’re a protégée of my friend James Fulton?’
Susan said ‘Yes sir,’ standing up nice and straight in front of him. ‘And a very nice looking specimen too.’ said Dr Guildford. ‘Let’s have that jacket off and have a proper look at you.’
Susan took off her suit jacket and again stood up nice and straight now in her pretty semi-transparent white blouse. Her mother said always stand up nice and straight in front of gentlemen which meant, Susan knew, stick out your boobs so he’ll get a good look. So she stuck them out. They were of course very good ones, full and firm. Firm and juicy, one could say.
Dr Guildford for his part clearly appreciated them. ‘What a lovely shape,’ he told her and then put his hands on them, cupping them, no doubt to confirm what his eyes told him. Susan remained standing straight and still and not flinching, well aware that she had to impress this man; and also of course having your boobs felt up was not much when you had just been made to strip down to your knickers and suspender belt and then...
‘Yes, very nice,’ Dr Guildford acknowledged. ‘Just what we need at St Edwards and I’m sure most of our students would agree with me.’
Then Dr Guildford said something else which did come as a bit of a shock. Why didn’t Susan take off her bra as she had such a nice firm shape. He was sure she didn’t need it for support.
He let go of Susan’s boobs. ‘Yes, take it off, you can leave your blouse on. Slip it off whilst I go and see about some tea, and then have a seat.’
Susan blushed. She had not been expecting this. But still, she had nothing to be ashamed of, quite the reverse, as her mother would say. And after that Mr Parker... Trembling slightly, Susan unbuttoned her blouse and slipped it off her shoulders, then took off the lacy white bra. Her nipples, she saw, were quite erect. Not surprisingly perhaps. She quickly refastened the blouse and put her bra in her handbag. A glance in Dr Guildford’s mirror. She flushed. Her high firm boobs with their erect nipples were sticking right out. No doubt that was what Dr Guildford wanted to see. Susan nervously moistened her lips and sat down on a chair.
Dr Guildford came in with some tea on a silver tray; and told Susan to move from her chair and come and sit with him on the sofa. Tea on sofas seemed to be the thing today: first of all Mr Fulton and then Mr Parker and now Dr Guildford. The other two, Susan recalled hotly, had both done her right afterwards. She just hoped Dr Guildford didn’t want the same because three in one day was a bit much even if in a good cause. For the moment, though, Dr Guildford was quite happy with Susan’s boobs with erect pink nipples prettily pouting out her blouse front.
He couldn’t keep his hands off them... and before long he had Susan’s blouse all unbuttoned and they were out. Bare. It was not at all easy to eat and drink politely, in the approved manner, in these circumstances.
Eventually though Dr Guildford did decide he’d had enough of that. ‘I suppose being a protégée of Mr Fulton, Susan, you’re a properly disciplined girl?’
Oh dear she thought. ‘Er... yes.’
‘Bottoms, isn’t it, Susan? Am I not correct in thinking that Mr Fulton’s disciplinary measures centre on a girl’s bottom?’
There was another ‘Er... yes’. Dr Guildford’s interest in this direction was not entirely unexpected.
He was still toying with Susan’s bare boobs though clearly his mind was now on something else. ‘I too have a considerable interest in disciplinary matters, Susan. I wonder if we might investigate...’
Susan was told to stand up. Yes, she could button up her blouse now; but what she had to do was to pull up her skirt. And then get over Dr Guildford’s lap.
This development was not entirely unexpected. It was perhaps why she was wearing her sexy suspender belt because with her skirt up it would be very much on display. Being over a man’s lap was not completely novel because Mr Fulton liked to spank as well as cane. The scholarly-looking Dr Guildford, whom to look at you might never imagine was interested in such things, grabbed Susan’s knickers down with considerable enthusiasm, and then with equal spirit began smacking his hand sharply down on the ripe and resilient flesh, rapidly imparting a healthy red glow to Susan’s rotundities.
Could this really be normal Oxbridge entrance procedure? There was probably no way of knowing for girls were not likely to wish to discuss such experiences and compare notes. But still, if this was what put Dr Guildford in a receptive and agreeable mood...
Unfortunately spanking was not all he wanted. No, not that other, at least Dr Guildford didn’t seem to require that but... the cane. Most unfortunately. Susan really hated the cane, that dreadful biting smart in your bottom that was a hundred times worse than a spanking. But what could you do if the Senior Tutor of St Edwards decided that he did wish for such a work-out. After a very energetic warm-up of over-the-lap spanking.
‘Get over the arm of the sofa, Susan, and let’s see how well my old friend has got you trained.’ Dr Guildford, as he spoke, now had a wicked looking bamboo cane in his hand.
Six. Six of the best if you wanted to be trite. Each one making you do a frantic bottom dance and bringing forth a desperate squeal of anguish. Hopefully letting out those howls and jerking your bottom about like a dervish didn’t count against you; and at least Susan stayed down over the arm of the sofa and took it all.
Dr Guildford pronounced, ‘Good. Very good.’ at the end of it. But what exactly did that mean?
Later, that evening, Susan had dinner in the very impressive college dining room together with the other hopefuls up for the examination; mostly boys but a number of girls. Susan couldn’t help wondering about these other girls. Had they been entertained by Dr Guildford or other college staff? Had any of them been asked to remove their bras, or been spanked or caned and even now, like Susan, were sitting on rather sore bottoms? One or two of them certainly were pretty, and with good figures. Had they been offered sight of the exam paper by that very well-endowed Mr Parker... in exchange for opening their legs?
They were mostly friendly, if rather nervous, but there was one rather objectionable character who as it happened was sitting directly opposite Susan. ‘Of course it’s easy for you girls,’ he suddenly declared. ‘I’ve heard it said that certain members of the exam board will always let a pretty girl in if she’s prepared to fuck.’
Susan could feel herself going bright red but she managed to say, in a dignified way. ‘I should imagine you’re very much mistaken.’
In fact she hadn’t seen that paper yet but Mr Parker brought it round to her room soon after dinner. As one might imagine he wanted a repeat performance before he handed it over and Susan had no choice but to agree — although that hadn’t been the agreement. ‘Just to show we’re friends,’ said Mr Parker who was again in a notably aroused state. So there was that on Susan’s little bed and then with Mr Parker gone she could, eagerly, look at the paper. Well, she had earned it.
It was helpful because there were two or three questions she would answer given the chance to think about them first.
Next day was pretty awful, awful for everyone no doubt. The written exams in the morning and then interviews in the afternoon. Some of the professors and such-like on the interview board were very hard in their questioning which perhaps bore out what Mr Parker had said. Dr Guildford didn’t ask any very hard questions.
Susan had tea with Dr Guildford afterwards and he wanted more of what he had done the first day. Naturally in the circumstances a girl couldn’t argue, and he did say he thought Susan had done all right. Of course it would depend on the exam papers.
So that was it, wait and see and keep your fingers crossed. Another night in college and this time after dinner Susan went out to a pub with some of the others and then when she got back locked the door. There was a knock but she didn’t answer: Susan didn’t see why she should co-operate any more with Mr Randy Parker.
But he was not going to be completely foiled because of course he was to drive her to the station the next morning. Susan would much rather have taken a bus or taxi like most of the others but it had been arranged. And first of all...
‘Come on,’ he said having once more got Susan into his room. ‘It’ll bring you luck.’
‘I just hope so,’ Susan fervently thought as, reluctantly, she allowed the college porter to undress her. ‘I just hope so,’ she thought as she got on the bed and looked up at the ceiling. Mr Parker got to work... and Susan gave a little yelp. He really was... ‘Oouch!’