Schooled for Service

by Lady Alice McCloud

  ‘No? Some accident then, which was misconstrued? I have heard of such cases...’

  ‘No, it was done by a doctor, a most respectable man, Dr Molloy, who is considered an expert in his field. It was necessary, apparently, in order that I might commence my training for the Imperial Diplomatic Service. I do not understand why, nor the reason he felt obliged to introduce his pego into my body! In front of the matron and my companion!’

  ‘Terrible, and quite extraordinary! So why then were you declared a wanton, and you have implied, at least, that you were obliged to wear a restraint belt?’

  ‘To... to prevent me from abusing myself,’ Thrift admitted, reasoning that as everyone in the dormitory knew about her inability to keep her fingers off her quim at night it was pointless to conceal her behaviour. Nor was she the only one.

  ‘Just this?’ Elizabeth queried. ‘I would have been soundly caned, it is true, had I ever allowed myself to be caught doing such a thing, but...’

  She broke off, giggling, and they shared a guilty glance before Elizabeth went on, suddenly wistful.

  ‘To touch oneself is a delight, yes, and for all Miss Scarsdale’s preachings I do not see how it can do the least harm, and yet it is a pale pleasure beside that of taking a man into your body. I feel sorry for you. You have been ruined, yet you have not experienced the true ecstasy which comes with a man inside you. It is a glorious feeling, warm and fulfilling, as if to do so were the pre-eminent purpose of your body. I do not imagine it can have been the same with this Dr Molloy, at all? Sometimes I feel that the memory alone keeps my wits together here.’

  Somewhat stung, Thrift nevertheless hesitated before replying.

  ‘My experience with Dr Molloy was not pleasurable as you describe it, no,’ she admitted. ‘It stung terribly for one thing, and was quite without the pleasing intimacy the company of a gentleman may bring, and yet I am not entirely ignorant of these things.’

  ‘No?’ Elizabeth queried with a hint of mischief in her voice. ‘You have taken a man’s pego in your hand... your mouth perhaps?’

  Thrift nodded. ‘Both, and... and elsewhere.’

  Elizabeth giggled. ‘I know, in the valley of your bosom! You are fully endowed, and so...’

  ‘I was thinking...’ Thrift began, her cheeks not burning and her quim itching for attention, only to think better of it, but too late.

  ‘No!’ Elizabeth exclaimed in horror. ‘Not in your fundament! You did, I see it in your face. You let a man put his pego up your bottom!’

  ‘No!’ Thrift squealed, her face scarlet. ‘Yes... it... it was not like that... well... in any event, nobody knows!’

  Elizabeth was staring at her, mouth agape, eyes wide, cheeks flushed pink, and her little nipples poking up to make two tiny humps in the thin cotton of her chemise.

  ‘What happened?’ she demanded.

  ‘It... he...,’ Thrift sighed, ‘he was a Frenchman, a Monsieur Alphonse d’Arrignac ...’

  ‘A Frenchman! No wonder then...’

  ‘...a violinist of the highest standing, but most debauched it is true. As with yourself, he worked his wiles on my companion first, only not with bribes but by her seduction. I was then introduced to their affair, first taught to suck his pego, and then, once I had been taken beyond the point at which I could resist, sodomised.’

  Elizabeth gave a little gasp, no more, still staring. Eager to defend herself, Thrift went on quickly.

  ‘I had little choice in the matter, for I had been put on Dr Lloyd’s Improved Regime to ensure my chastity, which involved a most elaborate and unpleasant system of restraint, and which delivered mild electric shocks to discourage arousal. Unfortunately, in my case, the effect was reversed, and... especially after I had been spanked for any reason, it would drive me to a state in which, and I speak the honest truth, I had little or no control over my actions. It was in such a state they took advantage of me. Miss Challis, my companion, took pleasure in giving me my spankings too.’

  Elizabeth merely nodded, tight-lipped, with her hands folded in her lap. When she did speak, her tone was thoughtful.

  ‘Mrs Budge takes pleasure in our spankings. More than ordinary pleasure, that is.’

  ‘Mrs Budge is quite horrid,’ Thrift agreed fervently. ‘When she spanks me she feels my bottom, and between...’

  ‘Mine also,’ Elizabeth admitted, ‘and... and yet, it is not entirely unpleasant, I confess. And you, you reach climax when you are beaten, if rolled on your back...’

  They shared a look, both red-faced with embarrassment, but also arousal. Elizabeth’s eyes showed uncertainty, but they were bright, and her mouth a little open. Before she could stop herself, Thrift had slipped down from the tomb, to take her friend’s legs, spread them wide, and buried her face between, nuzzling at the folds of Elizabeth’s drawers until they came wide. Elizabeth cried out in protest, but made no effort to stop it happening as Thrift’s tongue burrowed between the lips of her quim, and her next cry was of pleasure.

  Thrift was awash with guilt as she lapped eagerly at the soft folds of flesh, and the fear of discovery, but also pleasure, and wonderful feelings of naughtiness, and defiance, and of being cared for, and caring in return. She took hold of Elizabeth’s body, her arms around the open thighs to hold the neat, firm bottom cheeks where they were planted on the cold stone. Elizabeth was making little whimpering sounds, and playing with her breasts through her chemise, and gave another little heartfelt cry as Thrift’s tongue found her bump.

  Sure that she would hear the invariably harsh commands of the chaperones long before anyone came up to them, Thrift let herself concentrate on her task, flicking her tongue tip against the tiny bud of flesh between the neat lips of Elizabeth’s quim. Her friend’s cries quickly grew more urgent, her moans more intense, and then her belly was tightening in Thrift’s face and she was coming, her thighs spread as wide as they would go, then suddenly shut, clamping Thrift’s head firmly into place as she gave one final mewl of ecstasy.

  Thrift pulled back the moment Elizabeth released her, grinning as she wiped the moustache of girl cream from her upper lip. Elizabeth was smiling, her face flushed pink and her eyes radiant. Once more Thrift came forward, to take her friend in her arms in a hug that expressed an intimacy she thought she had lost completely. Elizabeth returned the pressure, cuddling Thrift’s head to her chest, and speaking only when they at last came apart.

  ‘That was beautiful... so beautiful!’ she gasped.

  ‘You will... will provide me the same pleasure?’ Thrift asked.

  ‘Of course. How could I refuse?’

  Elizabeth was blushing furiously as she hopped down from the tomb, but the moment Thrift was in position with her drawers held wide she had buried her face in the plump, soft quim in front of her. Thrift sighed as she took her friend’s head gently in her hands and closed her eyes, determined to blot out everything but the ecstasy of being licked, and the recollection of how it had felt to do the same to Elizabeth.

  Already Elizabeth was licking, eager but clumsy, so that Thrift had to guide her until the sensation was right. Only then did she give herself over to the pleasure completely, thinking of the feel of Elizabeth’s flesh in her hands, the scent of her skin, the little high breasts and slim hips, the small, round bottom she had seen spanked so often, and imagined spanking herself...

  She tried to pull back from the thought, but it was too late, and as she started to come she was imagining how it would feel to take Elizabeth across her knee and spank the little cheeky bottom to a glowing pink, and only then put the punished girl down on her knees to lick quim. As the climax hit her she bit her lip, sure she would scream and bring disaster on them, only for Elizabeth to squeal in shock and pull back abruptly as Thrift went into contraction, her quim tightening to squirt fluid from her pee hole, full into Elizabeth’s open mouth.

  E
lizabeth had sat back on the grass in shock and surprise, but Thrift was still in orgasm, and could not help but finish herself off, rubbing at her quim with the little squirts of fluid still erupting from her, all over the astonished Elizabeth. Only when she had finished did she begin to stammer out apologies, while Elizabeth tried desperately to wipe the sticky patches off her clothes.

  ‘Best to strip,’ Thrift suggested. ‘I will too, and we will pretend Miss Laithwaite ordered it. Who would think we punished ourselves?’

  ‘A wise thought,’ Elizabeth answered, and quickly began to peel off her clothes.

  Thrift followed suit, both of them giggling and repeatedly ducking down to glance between the yew trunks as they stripped. Naked, they peered cautiously out onto the lawn, then ran to the middle. Nobody was about, although Thrift found herself scanning those windows of the house which overlooked their position with trepidation. The other girls were approaching, but still well up on the hillside, and Thrift realised that she might have safely spent perhaps another ten minutes of intimacy with Elizabeth.

  ‘We might have had more time,’ she remarked, ‘which... which I for one would have enjoyed. If... if we are to indulge in Sapphic pleasures again...’

  ‘I would wish it,’ Elizabeth broke in, her voice soft and urgent, ‘never have I... like that, to be licked there. It is truly beautiful. I would gladly take three strokes of Miss Laithwaite’s strap again for such pleasure. We might perhaps arrange it, after a sensible interval?’

  Thrift smiled, the warm feeling she had experienced in Elizabeth’s arms washing over her once again.

  Having fallen in love with Elizabeth, and she quickly came to accept that she had, Thrift found life at Weathercote House very different. Much of the loneliness and vulnerability had gone, but in its place was the fear of discovery, and the consequences of discovery, which were sure to be both painful and humiliating, although it was the possibility of their being separated that really hurt.

  She also began to feel protective, and the enjoyment and arousal she had always felt at watching her friend strapped or spanked gave way to more complicated emotions, including jealousy, made worse by Elizabeth’s inability to control herself during punishment. The same applied to the other girls, especially when the rougher ones would tease or bully. Kirsty and the twins frequently making Elizabeth show her bottom at the end of the day, and would apply a few swats of their own if they felt she had not been given enough of the strap, or dish out an impromptu over the knee spanking. Thrift and Lucy were frequently given the same treatment, or on one occasion made to stand at the end of their beds with their clothes pulled open to show off their breasts and bellies and bottoms while the three working class girls held a mock beauty pageant.

  Thrift and Elizabeth took great care not to show their affection in front of anybody else, even Lucy, and yet it quickly became known. Being together all day, the slightest hint showed, and when their second attempt to steal an hour alone together failed, it came out. In the hope of repeating what had happened before, Thrift dawdled over her lunch, ensuring that she had to scrub the pot in which their stew had been boiled. Being slow cost her three cracks of Miss Laithwaite’s strap, in a particularly undignified position, with one foot on the floor and the other held up high, forcing her to clutch the table for support and flaunting her quim as her drawers were opened to apply the punishment.

  As she had hoped, leaving the pot and several utensils imperfectly scrubbed ensured that Miss Laithwaite came to collect her after the last lesson, and by hanging back, Elizabeth ensured that she was taken too. They were herded into the kitchen, and left, allowing them to steal a quick kiss, only for Kirsty to appear, having been sent after them by Miss Aislebie, who was in no mood to have her afternoon exercises interrupted. Kirsty gave a shocked glance, and was about to speak when Miss Laithwaite appeared behind her. At Kirsty’s attempt to explain, she was rolled up on the kitchen table and given three solid cuts of the strap while Thrift and Elizabeth hurried to scrub up. All three were therefore late for exercises and ended up touching their toes on the lawn, stark naked, while yet another beating was dished out by Miss Aislebie.

  The rest of the day passed without incident, but the strapping and the frustration of not being able to play with Elizabeth had left Thrift’s quim warm and needy, while she was in nervous anticipation for Kirsty’s reaction. As she had expected, and dreaded, no sooner were they in the dormitory with the door bolted securely to keep them in than the Scots girl signalled Sally-Anne toward the door. Sally-Anne nodded, and signalled Elizabeth in turn. Elizabeth made a face, but she allowed herself to be lifted to the level of the beam, where she deftly disengaged the microphone with a single exact twist of her hairpin. Kirsty spoke at once.

  ‘Do you know what I saw? I saw her Ladyship here with her little cockney friend, kissing.’

  Thrift looked at the floor as the blood rushed to her face, with the other girls giggling or giving little shocked gasps at the news.

  ‘Kissing, plain as I see you now,’ Kirsty went on, ‘tongues and all, and holding each others’ arses.’

  ‘Ah, they’re in love!’ Jane taunted as Thrift’s cheeks flared hotter still.

  Joanna laughed, and Sally-Anne as she returned Elizabeth to the floor. Lucy had gone scarlet and was making a show of folding her clothes.

  ‘Look at Miss Proper’s face!’ Joanna laughed. ‘I bet the three of them are up to it. Aren’t they always behind when we run up to the rocks?’

  ‘No,’ Thrift answered quietly, ‘by no means, and if Miss Chesham and I have formed an attachment that is... is warmer than thought proper, then is it surprising, in this horrid place?’

  ‘Nor is it any business of yours,’ Elizabeth added, her voice shaking as she spoke. ‘Pray permit us go about our business, and we shall permit you to do the same, without interference.’

  ‘Hark at her!’ Joanna crowed, ‘and her with her tongue been up her Ladyship’s fanny, like as not. What if we were to call the hags, eh Cockney?’

  ‘I am not a Cockney,’ Elizabeth answered, ‘and I merely say that in order to make our life here as bearable as possible, we should be friends together.’

  ‘Exactly,’ Thrift added, ‘and besides, given your own sorry condition, and your station in life, who are you to question certain little intimacies Miss Chesham and I may have taken together?’

  ‘Oh, like that is it?’ Jane snapped back. ‘So we’re too low to speak our minds, are we?’

  ‘If you wish to phrase it so, yes,’ Thrift answered.

  Kirsty laughed.

  ‘Time you two were given another lesson,’ Joanna stated. ‘Get across your beds, both of you, you’re overdue a spanking.’

  ‘No,’ Thrift answered. ‘I shall not, and nor will you make me, or I shall scream, and let the consequences be what they will.’

  ‘You do as you’re damn well told!’ Kirsty snapped. ‘See this, we make a noise and the hags’ll be in, sure enough, and tawsings all round, only I can take it a deal better than you, and your pretty friends.’

  ‘Us too, and Sally,’ Joanna added, ‘so you’d better get those drawers apart and those bums stuck out, and for your mouth it’ll be a taste of this little tawsy.’

  To Thrift’s horror, Kirsty reached in under her mattress, to pull out one of the thick leather straps the chaperones used.

  ‘Picked it up when old Stoksey took me in the staff room for a whacking,’ Kirsty said with relish.

  Joanna and Jane both laughed. Sally-Anne was smiling. Lucy had knelt by her bed and was saying her prayers, pretending to ignore the others. Elizabeth had sat down, looking sulky. Glancing at her lover, then the strap, Thrift determined to be bold, and face the four girls down.

  ‘No,’ she stated resolutely. ‘What difference, if I am to be beaten with a strap, between having it done by our chaperones, who at least have some degree
of respectability in their intentions, and yourselves? Besides, have you no sense of place whatever? It is beyond thought that a common girl like yourself should punish me, and as much is true in the case of Miss Chesham.’

  ‘Why the fuss?’ Kirsty queried. ‘I’ve had your drawers open before, and the Cockney’s.’

  ‘Then it is time we put an end to such matters,’ Thrift answered, ‘and besides, spankings are... are altogether different.’

  ‘How? ‘Cause they get your cunt warm?’ Joanna laughed.

  ‘So you can have a rub when we’re done with you!’ Jane added, and all four of them burst into laughter as Thrift’s cheeks flared once more.

  ‘What difference?’ Kirsty went on. ‘I’ll tell you what difference, lassie, Mrs Budge for one, with her big clammy hands all over your arse, and between those fat cheeks, likely as not. Likes you, does Budge, and one of these days, when Ponderby’s had a drop too much maybe, I reckon she’ll take you to her room, and then you’ll learn a thing or too you’re not taught in class, eh girls?’

  ‘What with her and the Cockney, I reckon she knows it already!’ Jane laughed.

  ‘Not the same with Budge, eh Hen?’ Kirsty stated, and winked at Thrift.

  Thrift hesitated, pondering Kirsty’s words. Mrs Budge had been growing more intimate in her groping, and it was all too easy to imagine being made to lick the big woman’s quim, or worse...

  She glanced at Elizabeth, who returned an imploring look. The thought of duty came to her, and how as a lady of the British Empire she should be prepared to help those weaker or less fortunate than herself. She raised her chin and spoke.

  ‘Very well, if you are determined to be beastly, you may spank me, but leave Miss Chesham alone.’

  Kirsty, Jane and Joanna exchanged looks. Kirsty spoke.

  ‘That’ll do, for the now, but your friends’ll watch, at the least, and they’ll be showing out. Get at the end of your beds, the three of you, and get your bums and tits out.’