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Saturday, 25 May 2019

Finishing School

From Blushes Uniform Girls 43
As he left the house, the Major paused briefly to admire his specimen roses, and then set off, walking briskly with his head high and arrogant, as befitted a senior officer of the Occupying Forces.
The big villa which housed his ‘Finishing School’ was soon reached, and, as he went up to his office, the coach arrived with the new intake of girls.
He paused on the landing to look over his new recruits, about a dozen or so nineteen-year-old girls, especially selected for their voluptuous beauty from all the Occupied Territories, and sent here to be turned, under his tutelage, into suitably obedient playthings for the high-ranking officers and their VIP visitors.
He wondered idly which of them would take to their new life easily, which of them would acquiesce and who out of them would rebel. His eye was caught by one tall red-head who looked arrogant and just at that moment she bent over to pick up her case. Her skin-tight ski-pants stretched over the full swell of her hips, outlining the skimpy bikini panties she wore underneath, the seam between her legs cutting up into the soft, yielding flesh between her strong thighs.
He licked his lips, aware of a stirring in his loins, and walked swiftly to his private office.
Marianne, his secretary and a graduate of his school, was waiting for him in her tight white business-like suit, its formality betrayed by the long slit up the front of her skirt, so that as she moved her long slender legs in their cobweb stockings appeared, her taut satin suspenders and lace panties adding a further touch of eroticism to her outwardly staid appearance.
His incoming mail was already opened and arranged in order, and his appointment-book was open, with the more important engagements marked in red.
Marianne was undoubtedly efficient, but then, as he often explained to his junior staff, just because the girls were primarily whores, that didn’t mean they were incompetent.
Without asking, she removed her jacket, revealing a white blouse of a silky material which showed the dark pink circles of her aureoles above the white uplift sling brassiere. She leaned over him, deliberately letting her body touch his as much as possible, and reached over to explain a few points, her breast in its seductive covering brushing his cheek.
He read swiftly through the most important mail and then absent-mindedly put up his free hand to caress her breasts, his fingertips and the edge of his nails raising up her nipples to peaks of quivering desire, so that she spread her legs urgently and flicked back her skirt to show him the honey fuzz of her tight pubic curls spilling over the top of her panties.
Still reading avidly and as if unconscious of his actions, he put his other hand onto the inside of her knee and stroked her leg up and up, onto the bare flesh above her stocking and then onto the thin ribbon of lace that threaded between her thighs.
The lace and the plump cunt-lips that peeped on either side were more than damp and, as she carried on with her business-like explanations, her voice more and more lost its continuity and she paused and tiny gasps escaped her lips.
‘Well,’ he said testily, ‘go on, girl. When will the Captain call me back?’
His fingers slid into her panties and he altered his stance slightly to drive his curled fingers up into her streaming cunt, forcing her to carry on the conversation nevertheless.
He finger-fucked her until he felt her labia engorge and her clitoris stand stiffly erect, and knew she was on the verge of orgasm, then withdrew and passed his hands over her buttocks, as she whimpered with unfulfilled lust.
The thin weals which criss-crossed her backside were still sensitive and she winced slightly.
‘Still sore, eh?’
He patted her sharply and went on.
‘I hope that will teach you not to use your vibrator without permission.’
‘You… confiscated it also, Major,’ she reminded him.
‘You want it back? On heat, are you?’
She nodded, the flush deepening on her cheeks.
Show me the new film and suck me off while I watch, and I might let you have it back.’
He unclipped her skirt as he spoke, so that as she laced up the video-machine, he could admire her backside, exposed where he had pulled down her panties: the cane-marks were thin red lines laid neatly and precisely across the full curves.
All the ‘graduates’ had to take part in a blue film as part of their ‘final examination’, writing the plot themselves, and knew that they would be punished if they failed to titillate the Major’s jaded senses, so that they pushed themselves to limits they had never imagined when they joined the school.
He settled back with a cigarette as Marianne started the machine, opening his legs so that she could nestle down between his thighs, her lithe fingers unzipping him as the film started.
They had taken as their theme the story of one girl passing through the school, starting with her early initiation into topless and then nude sun-bathing.
He grunted with satisfaction as Marianne’s fingers peeled back his foreskin, uncovering the hard, sensitive knob for her mouth to enjoy. Shots of the girls oiling each other, the older students sliding their predatory fingers between the new girls’ thighs, helped his erection almost as much as her soft tongue licking his frenum.
Then the lessons on strip-teasing, learning to allow yourself to be stripped in any order, to be fondled without resisting, culminating with the novice’s first orgasm in public, her face contorted with lust and shame as men and women fingered her. He felt his own passion grow, the burning in his loins, and he reached down to entangle his fingers in her thick curls, pulling in her head so that she deep-throated his cock as the scenes reached a climax of wanton debauchery.
He was as good as his word and, a few moments later, handed her the big vibrator with the writhing head which was her main toy. But Marianne bringing herself off was not an asset to be thrown away.
The School not only taught young virgins how to become courtesans, it was a show-piece for the whole State-run vice machine and had a constant flow of visitors who came to learn, and take back to their own clubs and brothels, the latest tricks. There was also an even bigger stream of VIP voyeurs and one side of the school was given over to a series of rooms for their entertainment.
The Major checked the row of tell-tale lights and sent Marianne to Room Four.
She knew it well, the small room with mirrored walls and ceiling, with the peep-hole like a large letter-box set opposite the big tilting armchair.
She sat down and opened her negligee to show off her stockings and suspenders: otherwise she was naked. When the shutter opened and the eyes of an unknown voyeur peered in, she leaned back and lifted her legs, sliding her ankles into stirrups set wide on either side of the peep-hole.
The client adjusted the spotlight to his satisfaction on her sex organ, and pushed the buzzer to signal the show to begin. Marianne in turn switched on her vibrator and offered it up, first to her breasts, exciting her nipples in turn, but going on quickly down over the curve of her Mount and onto the screamingly-sensitive horn of her clitoris.
She squealed aloud as the humming monster bit into her oozing slit, watching the man’s eyes as he hungrily took in the scene. She knew he would be fumbling at his zip and sure enough, a moment later the second flap opened and his erect cock was thrust through, his hand jerking at his foreskin, so that she thrust deep to bring herself off before he came, knowing that she had to wait, in that case, for the next client.
But she was already aroused and felt her own orgasm begin almost at once, the waves of passion breaking over her as she moaned and screamed and writhed in the chair, feeling the client’s spunk spatter her hands and thighs as he shot his load.
Back in the office, the Major had completed the urgent business just as Marianne rang him.
‘I’ve serviced three men,’ she told him, ‘and come twice myself. Do you want me back?’
He looked at his watch.
‘I have to supervise the punishments,’ he told her, ‘so stay there another hour or so; that should satisfy you for a while.’
He walked swiftly down the corridor and into the main body of the school on his way to the basement. One corridor was part of the visitors’ route through the school and here the ‘fourth form’ girls played the roles of street-walkers, lounging against the wall in hot shorts or micro-mini skirts, with deep, plunging necklines offering up their proud tits, offering their wares in soft, wheedling tones. The tall brunette, who he remembered arriving almost fresh from her convent, lifted her pleated miniskirt to show him her slit G-string, the lace outlining the richness of her thick dark hair.
He paused briefly to watch a lesson on fellatio, the instructress, like the pupil, in satin underwear, both kneeling in front of one of the male staff as he stood stock-still while the pupil licked the gently-oozing spunk-hole of his ramrod prick.
But he was wanted in the basement, and soon descended the stairs and found himself in the dimly-lighted punishment area.
The first girl brought forward, only in the school a couple of weeks, was already in trouble.
‘She refuses to strip for the men, Major, and expose herself.’
He turned to face her.
‘What’s the meaning of this, Carole?’
‘I can’t,’ she wailed, ‘It’s so indecent and shameful.’
‘Don’t be stupid,’ he hissed. ‘You have a beautiful body and we all want to see it. Now, off with your clothes or you’ll get a taste of this,’ and he showed her the thin, whippy cane.
But she still refused and a moment later found herself face-down over the punishment-table, held down firmly by two of the instructresses.
He came up behind her as she kicked and struggled, pushing her ankles apart and close in to the table, so that her high heels pushed her buttocks up and rounded them handsomely.
Like all the girls, she wore stockings and suspenders, and squealed as he raised her pleated skirt, slowly, to expose her plump thighs.
‘Oh no, please,’ she whimpered, ‘don’t lift my skirt.’
His hands caressed the firm flesh and he flicked the skirt so that it fell over her back, leaving her bottom exposed in her thin bikini panties. She squealed again as his hands felt all around her buttocks and slid between her thighs, revelling in the fullness of her vagina.
With a deliberately-slow movement, he hooked fingers into the waistband of her panties and drew them down until he had uncovered her chubby arse-cheeks and could admire the rear view of her youthful cunt.
‘Now, for the last time, are you going to obey?’
He stood to one side, measured the stroke with a light touch and then, raising his arm, brought down the cane with a flick, across the centre-line, and again and again, three strokes in rapid succession.
At the first blow, she had frozen, but then her body erupted and she screamed and howled as she tried in vain to avoid the flicks of the cane that left thin lines of burning agony across her buttocks.
He paused after five, but, as she made no move to surrender, brought the cane up higher and thwacked her hard three times, until she gave in.
‘All right,’ she howled, ‘I give in. I’ll do it.’
He paused while the instructress talked to her.
‘It isn’t so easy as that, my girl. Once the caning has started, for whatever offence, it goes on until you have explained very clearly exactly what you will do to atone, in full detail. So, what exactly will you do when the Major stops? If he stops.’
The cane rose and fell again and the girl, terrified now, squealed and shouted between the merciless blows.
‘I’ll strip any way he wants.’
‘Any man, any time, whatever he wants.’
‘I’ll wear anything he says. I’ll show off my breasts and my…
ARSE… anything I swear.’
The Major signalled for her to be allowed up. Immediately, she ripped off her shirt and skirt, pulled down her panties and bent to her stockings.
‘Leave them on. Position three, quickly.’
He pointed to the table and she lay back on it, lifted her legs, and then reached out to pull her knees apart and back, until her toes almost touched the table behind her head.
The Major put out his hand and massaged her cunt, noting the wetness and the pink glow that suffused her labia.
‘You’d better spend every afternoon for a week,’ he said, ‘in room five or six. The clients there have buttons marked with parts of the body and so indicate what they wish to see. You must be fully-dressed and only take off what is absolutely necessary to expose what he demands. It’s normally this, of course.’
He patted her cunt as he spoke.
He turned to the instructress.
‘At other times,’ he said, ‘she’d better have a micro-skirt and no panties and give her plenty of jobs where she has to bend-over, like collecting the empty glasses in one of the bars.
I don’t think she’ll be shy after that,’ he added finally, ‘and in the meantime, she seems very damp, so if one of the staff would like to do something about that… make her stay there until you have rung around to find out.’
The second disobedient girl was small and very fair and obviously the femme type, so he wasn’t surprised to find that she ‘refused to participate in lesbian scenes.’ Obviously, she was frightened that her ‘secret’ would become known.
He always handed over such punishments to the lesbian members of the staff, and stayed to watch the fun.
They quickly had the girl stripped down to a short satin mini-slip and on her back on the table in the next punishment room.
This table was narrow and specially-shaped, having first removed her panties, so that the victim found her face within an inch of the girl’s eager cunt.
The other instructress meanwhile lifted the girl’s legs and folded them back, bending her knees so that her buttocks were lifted slightly off the table, her legs squeezed together, the pink rosiness of her vagina lips squeezed out between her thighs.
The third girl took up her switch and looked at the Major.
He nodded approvingly and the switch rose and fell with a sharp crack onto the bare backside of the girl on the table.
The victim’s cries were muffled and her writhing and twisting only excited the more the girl who straddled her, who grinned down and rode her like a recalcitrant mare.
This victim had already had a caning and knew the rules. Once she had given in, and that after only three or four strokes of the switch, she revealed a very detailed knowledge of lesbian practices. The girls carrying out the punishment made her shout out all the details and one of them was fitting the long, curving double-dildo into her own cunny even before the whipping had ceased, so that the victim had hardly recovered from the last blow before she felt the point of the enormous cock thrust into her vagina.
The Major looked on as the three butch girls each satisfied their own desires with the new recruit.
‘I think a week or two in the boutique,’ he suggested, as a continuing ‘punishment’. The boutique was specially provided for lesbian visitors, and was staffed with submissive femme girls who modelled feminine underwear and nightdresses and accompanied their clients into the ‘changing cubicles’, which were in fact small bedrooms (with special mirrors for the Major’s male voyeurs’ enjoyment.)
It was nearing lunchtime by now. He was therefore more than pleased that the final prisoner was accused of refusing intercourse, and decided to participate in a more active way.
Seizing her wrists, he pulled her to him, so that she was lying against him and pulled close from her ankles to her wrists. The instructress quickly unclipped the girl’s wrap-over skirt, pulled down her panties and cut them away and, feeling cautiously, found his penis and introduced it carefully into the girl’s vagina.
She struggled in vain against his strength and tried to stand on tip-toe to withdraw his shaft, but it was useless.
The leather whip sang through the air and cut across the girl’s buttocks. Immediately, he felt her anus tighten and her body jerk, exciting him.
Under the expert flicks of the short whip, the girl became berserk, writhing and jerking and twisting her body, leaping up at each new blow.
Incoherently, she cried that she would let any man henceforth fuck her any way he wished, but this time it was the Major who demanded satisfaction and only when at last his cock had spent its cargo into her womb was the whipping ceased.
Anyway, it was time for lunch…

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