(It was late autumn of 1960 and I, David Shaw, was 20 years old and was following my hobby of bird watching. I had unfortunately been detained by Amelia Wiff-Naseford, headmistress, for being an alleged ‘Peeping Tom’ in the grounds of ‘Dentwood Finishing School for Tall Girls aged 18 to 20 years old’. There were 120 girls registered at the school. Clearly I was not a so called ‘pervert’ but I could not prove it.
I had decided not to get the local police involved by agreeing to submit myself to the traditional ‘Punishment Rules of the School’ as applied to ‘Peeping Toms’. This involved being stripped naked and spread-eagled on the headmistress’ study carpet, and tethered with ropes and leather straps to metal rings set in floorboards at each corner of the room. I was then required to orally pleasure the ‘whole’ school. This is part sixteen of my sorry tale.)
Miss Amelia Wiff-Naseford appeared at the doorway to the French schoolgirl’s dormitory.
She stood with her legs apart, wearing a navy blue tweed skirt and matching jacket. Her four-inch high heels looked lethal and her hair was pulled tightly back in a bun. Her hawk-like eyes pierced mine from behind her steel-framed glasses. She truly looked a terrifying sight.
“Mr.Tom, I want your head up my skirt, right away, please release him girls,” cackled the insane headmistress.
A couple of girls disentangled me from the various scarves and belts that had held me down on the bed. My wrists and ankles were quite sore, and my penis was in poor shape having suffered constant masturbation since mid morning. It must have been lunchtime, judging by the way Miss Wiff-Naseford ushered them all out.
“Head up my skirt now, wretch,” she repeated, this time with more venom.
I fell on my knees in front of her, staring at her cruel shoes. Her evil-looking jet black seamed stockings disappeared under her calf length pleated skirt and I ducked my head under. The smell was overwhelming. I was met by an inner layer of white nylon petticoat with a deep lace trim. I pushed my head reluctantly under this until my face nudged up against her white loose legged French knickers. These had a deep lace trim which matched her petticoat. The odours from her vagina were horribly strong.
“Tongue out boy and start licking,” she shouted at me through the muffled layers.
She shook down her wide long petticoat and skirt over me so that all that could be seen were my knees and lower legs. The rest of me was completely hidden from view under her skirt. Within the hot confines of her underwear I pushed her gusset to one side and began licking her outer labia which glistened, and opened, revealing her innermost parts. The smell was again fiercely pervasive and overpowering.
The stink from her cunt appeared far more intense than any of the nineteen-year olds I had pleasured, especially when clearly she was now ‘on-heat’. Her odour was sickly sweet and filled my nostrils with the smell of ripe ammonia and savoury primitive smells. I was intoxicated by her pheromones however and breathed in her mature and distinctive natural scent.
I could not express clearly how I felt, but suddenly began to enjoy having my nose pushed into the head teacher’s dribbling orifice. She had an astringent bouquet between her legs which had an almost primeval animal attraction.
Miss Wiff-Naseford reached up slowly behind her skirt and into the waistband of her underwear. She slid off her damp French knickers over her suspenders and down her black stockings. She nudged me to one side as she stepped out of them. Then I resumed my position with my head up her skirt probing her now naked hairy outer lips with my tongue.
“Oh my, oh my,” she whispered as I flicked my tongue over her prominent clitoris.
“Don’t stop now Tom. Remember the police,” she threatened, clearly desperate for me to stimulate her thoroughly.
I gripped her buttocks under her skirt and pushed my tongue firmly up and down her gaping cleft. I wiggled my tongue around inside her as she clasped my head through her tweed skirt. We carried on in this fashion for many minutes. Once or twice I felt her knees buckle as she tried to concentrate on her orgasm.
She mewed, “Bliss, heavenly bliss, oh my, oh my, “over and over again.
We retreated backwards to one of the beds where she lay on her back and I resumed licking her between her legs. Her black stockings contrasted with her pale thighs and hairiness surrounding her genitals. She threw her legs over my shoulder and drew me further into her.
“Oh Tom, Mr. Tom,” she continued as she threw her skirt over me, her legs wide apart as I pursued her climax unrelentingly. Saliva and sexual secretions covered my face and her genitals.
She appeared to be more like putty in my hands, than the mad harridan I was used to. A great emotional surge welled up inside her and she gripped my head and ‘came’ in a great jaggering, shuddering wave of pure unrefined bursa seks hikayeleri pleasure.
“Oh Tom, Oh my,” she whimpered clearly now a much gentler creature when sexually fulfilled. I had my uses after all, I thought inwardly.
We lay on the bed for many minutes listening to the rain. I was not sure whether I should kiss her. I still thought that she was deranged and should be locked up. She ruffled my hair playfully and announced that after lunch I should be ready to orally pleasure the rest of Class 2A who were in the middle of dress rehearsals for the Autumn Review. I wondered what they would be dressed as; surely not more Can-can dancers or French maids? I wondered how I could keep going. I felt a physical wreck but needed food so I agreed with Amelia to finish off Class 2A, purely because I required sustenance.
* Saturday Afternoon
After lunch, where I was again groped by Celia the school secretary, I was taken to Miss Wiff-Naseford’s study, stripped and tethered to the floor with the now familiar ropes and leather straps.
The rehearsals were going on in the school hall and three girls were ushered in. They were wearing ‘Alice in Wonderland’ costumes in different colours. Their hair was pushed back with ribbons and they all wore ballet pumps and striped stockings. Their dresses had puffed sleeves and several deep tiers which flounced outwards and moved in a swaying fashion as they walked. Clearly their frocks were supported by masses of white gathered petticoats which occasionally billowed out underneath. As they entered the room I could just make out the lacy frilliness of their knee-length bloomers which peeped out below their skirts and petticoats.
The headmistress took up her position on the armchair behind me. She was still keen to watch me use my tongue on the young women who were about to squat open legged on my face.
“Danielle Holbrook, please step forward and remove your panties,” she said to a dark haired girl in a pale pink Alice frock.
She was an incredibly attractive girl with a broad grin and freckles. As she approached I noticed that she appeared at least six foot three inches tall even in her low dance shoes. She lifted up several layers of petticoat and felt for the waistband of her bloomers. She pulled them down to her knees then stepped out of them. Miss Wiff-Naseford explained what she wanted her to do and once more I had an athletic looking nineteen year old standing over me, straddling my face.
I stared up her dress as she lowered herself onto me where she rearranged her skirts and petticoats over me so I could only be seen by the headmistress. I immediately began my fervent probing, nuzzling and licking of the hairy opening presented to me between her legs. Her vagina was surrounded by a soft fuzz of red pubic hair which rapidly became damp as I swept my tongue over her labia and into her. I could tell that she wasn’t used to oral sex as she did not appear to respond as quickly as predicted.
All at once, however, she cottoned-on to the idea that she could bring herself off on my nose. I then stopped licking and allowed her to jerk her clitoral area over the contours of my face. I rested my head on the hard pillow and allowed her free rein. She bucked, bounced and rubbed herself all over me until I was covered in oozing vaginal spendings. The atmosphere beneath her many petticoat layers and Alice dress was very hot and humid. I felt her become more and more urgent with her movements. All about me her undergarments shook and swished. My face was now wet and slippery, partly with sweat but mainly with the juices issuing from her cleft.
After about fifteen long minutes of arduous activity she orgasmed over me, gushing out further lubrication and rested, panting and struggling for breath.
“Well done little Alice,” said the headmistress evidently pleased at the spectacle. I heard the clink of her gin bottle and glass; clearly it was going to be another intensive afternoon.
“Second Alice please, ah Miss Lucy Gratton-Smith. Step up to the ‘peeping Tom’ dear.”
A rather fragile gangling girl wearing a somewhat oversize Alice frock walked over to me. She appeared much younger than her nineteen years and looked rather doll-like and ungainly. Her dress moved in exaggerated sways as she bobbed along seemingly oblivious of what was required of her, or of me.
“Knickers off Lucy please dear,” said Miss Wiff-Naseford in ingratiating tones.
The doll-like figure, with her blonde wavy hair pulled back by her Alice band, reached up inside her dress and petticoats and searched for her waistband. Once located, she dragged down her lace edged bloomers and stepped out of them, allowing me a view of a luscious display of lace edged frou-frou under her skirts.
“Pop over to Tom and place your feet on each side of his face,” she said encouraging the youngster.
Lucy Gratton-Smith stared at me and at my dormant erection and placed one foot, then the other foot, to either side of my face. I stared up her long spindly legs to where tufts of light brown hair indicated where her vagina nestled. Her petticoats swung around me and descended over me as she lowered her bottom fully and squarely onto my face.
Her cleft glistened in the half-light under her frock and I began my tonguing and nuzzling. She flinched noticeable until she realised that this was indeed a pleasurable experience for her, and for me. I heard the headmistress encourage her to relax and enjoy the sensations. Very soon she was bouncing up and down on my tongue and yielding to my probings and lickings of her clitoris. She became surprisingly vocal as I concentrated my attentions on her ‘love-bud’.
“Ooooh, oww oh, oooh, ow, oh wow, no don’t stop,” she exclaimed in a feverish almost joyous manner.
I could tell by her movements that this may have been the first time she had ever experienced an orgasm. Her bouncing became more fervent and energetic. She grabbed my head with both hands and gradually and thankfully brought herself to an orgasm. Her skirts and petticoats trembled and shook above me as she experienced the primitive onslaught of orgasm following orgasm. She appeared to explode with joy, and she laughed and cried at the same instance. I understood once again the complete and complex enjoyment women had when sexually fulfilled.
“Off you get dear,” said Miss Wiff-Naseford, noticeably moved by the young girl’s experience. As she raised her petticoats off me I could see tears in her eyes, and she smiled down at me and waved. I had great respect for Lucy but given half a chance I would fuck her, and often too.
“Elizabeth Chadburn, please step forward and drop your knickers,” barked out the gin- swilling head teacher.
A dark skinned girl stepped forward wearing a yellow high-waisted Alice dress. Her black crinkly hair was pulled back by a pale yellow Alice band. Elizabeth knew exactly what to do and was sitting on my face with her open oozing vagina pushed into my nostrils in no time. Ten minutes of vigorous and fierce jerking brought her to an orgasm. It was then ‘up with her dress’ and ‘on with her pantaloons’ and then back in line near the door.
Miss Wiff-Naseford dismissed them and asked them to inform the next batch of girls that they were required in her office. My penis again felt cheated. It required relief and a lot of it. I had thought that maybe the headmistress had remembered our previous agreement. She had promised that I would obtain some sort of masturbatory stimulation in return for my co-operation in this insane ‘Peeping Tom’ punishment. I swore that I would remind her at the next session.
Five minutes passed and I could hear that the headmistress was pouring out more gin and tonic and was mumbling to herself about orgasms and Matron. Matron was nowhere to be seen and I missed her soothing cool flannels on my face.
There was a sound of soft knocking on the headmistress’s door and there appeared four girls dressed as Victorian, or Edwardian ladies in long skirts and white blouses. I noticed by the way they walked that they also wore lace-up boots.
“Come in, come in. This is our ‘Peeping Tom’ who has kindly volunteered to pleasure you all orally between your legs. Ah yes, Karen Brittan, are you having a period?” she asked of the first willowy girl.
She replied that she was in the middle of her menstrual cycle, so Miss Wiff-Naseford told her to keep her knickers on and to stand over me, with one boot on either side of my face.
I lay there watching her looking down at me. Her face seemed a long way away. She carefully placed her footwear to each side of my upturned face. Gradually she pulled up her long black skirt and long white flounced cotton petticoat and opened her legs until I had a clear view up her clothing. She was wearing grey nylon stockings held up by her normal, everyday suspenders. There was nothing old fashioned about her knickers either although I detected a dark brown stain in her crotch which indicated that indeed she was experiencing her monthly cycle. I stared in a state of desperation at the stain as it landed on my face. Her period was clearly at ‘maximum flow’ and I was aware she was also wearing a sodden sanitary towel.
The experience was ghastly. I nuzzled her the best I could but was completely put off by her emissions. I pushed her off me but she continued rubbing herself backwards and forwards over my face, sliding over me over and over again. Eventually she got off me and I spat out anything which tasted suspect from my mouth. Miss Wiff-Naseford clearly could see I was in a mess and cleaned me up by spitting on my face and wiping me off roughly with a paper tissue.
Karen hobbled off to clean herself up and I was left to pleasure Phoebe Clifford-Singfield and Gillian Hayward, both of who ‘came’ quickly and vociferously much to the head teacher’s amusement.
“Well done girls. That is the way to obtain pleasure from a man when he is a bit worse for wear and ‘cannot get it up’,” she chortled, almost trying to justify the experience to them.
The fourth girl, Dianne Mason, took a bit more coaxing as she was very shy and self conscious at having a male’s tongue up her tight fanny.
“Call the next batch in on your way out please,” she told them as they left the room. The gin bottle appeared again and I noticed that the tonic had run out. This did not apparently dissuade ‘our dear head teacher’ from imbibing further, however.
The door again opened and there stood six girls wearing the Dentwood Finishing School uniform. Presumably they were in the school orchestra or were in charge of props or costumes. I heard the familiar click and clatter of high heel shoes. I looked towards them where they remained assembled at the far end of the room, as seen from my vantage point, between my legs. I leered at their black stockings where they disappeared under their knee-length blue tartan pleats and my penis again began to stiffen.
“Deborah Bramley, please step forward and pull down your knickers,” said the now drunken Amelia W-N behind be. She lurched forward and kicked my head as if to remind me to keep alert.
A wide eyed, ash-blonde girl strode across the room. Her broad hips swayed from side to side, flicking up her delightful pleats. I was again spellbound by the beauty of these long legged nineteen year olds. Her shoes were highly polished patent leather with a four-inch stiletto heel. She stood to one side of me and sneered, and told me that I was a ‘fucking pervert’. I wondered whether she really knew the truth that I was really an ornithologist and that all this is a beastly mistake.
She stood astride me and swiveled her hips so as to reveal her petticoat and white shiny satin knickers. She lifted the back of her skirt, bent her legs and dragged her knickers down to her knees. She stared at me again and hissed “Fucking pervert,” much to the headmistress’s glee. Miss Bramley stood above me and let her knickers slide slowly down her calves, then ankles, so that they ended up on my face with the gusset on my nose.
“Fucking pervert,” she said to me again.
This brought on some mock applause from Miss W-N who reached out and kicked me once again.
The girl appeared to enjoy having me spread-eagled on the floor beneath her feet and she looked as if she would take her time and savour the experience. Gingerly she stepped out of her knickers and kicked them to one side. I now stared straight up her skirt at her hairy vagina where it lay in wait for me. She lifted her shoe and placed it against my cheek, and did the same with the other until my face was well and truly trapped. She slid her shoes even further inwards so that my head felt it was gripped in a forceful vice. She was really hurting me and I tried to struggle but the solid cushion stopped me from moving my head even an inch. In vain I watched her vagina descend upon me knowing that I was thoroughly trapped between her feet.
Again she called me a ‘fucking pervert’ and began wiping her cunt over my nose and face.
Again I felt as if my face was just a ‘sexual aid’, a mere masturbatory tool and that she may as well be rubbing her labia over a bed-knob or chair-arm. Up and down, side to side, she dragged her slippery lips over me. I felt that I could not be bothered to even open my mouth or stick out my tongue. I just watched her genitalia slide over me, at first gently and then more fervently.
All around me her pleats and petticoat shook as her sliding was replaced by bouncing, and the bouncing replaced by jerking. My head and face were rocked and pushed from side to side. My features were plastered with vaginal slime as she ceaselessly carried on with her self-centred masturbation.
Over and over again she slid over me until I felt as if my face was being eroded. My penis again was at maximum extension as I watched stocking tops, suspender supports, underslip and the underside of her pleated school skirt moving backwards and forwards above me.
Eventually she discovered that my nose would provide the best surface to stimulate her clitoris so she concentrated all of her efforts on bringing herself to an orgasm on my nostrils. Her jerkings were now manic and I felt completely used and sub-human.
Through her skirt and petticoat I could hear her grunting and swearing. I heard the head teacher shouting encouragement, Sweat poured off me and runnels of cunt-juice dripped across my cheeks, I hoped and prayed that she would ‘come’ soon. A frantic mass of pleats and petticoat swayed all about me, and then she screeched out an orgasm. She rammed her vagina firmly into my face and I felt her internal muscles spasm and shudder. Then it all went very quiet. Miss Wiff-Naseford clapped and cheered, congratulating her pupil on her successful orgasm. I felt drained and exhausted.
Only five more girls to go I thought.
“Ah Pamela Meakin, we have not seen you for a while Pamela, Are you having a period dear?”