Woman on Woman

by Hilary Chale

  “Marvellous.”

  “Go back and carve ... and then eleven and don’t forget the claret.”

  “It’s delicious,” said Jasmine as she sat down, her bottom a raging furnace, her vagina so avid that it was hard to concentrate on anything, except perhaps that unseen weapon inside Roger’s trousers. And when she had moved over to present her fesses across the end of Isabel’s table ... Twelve wonderful flashes of pain and in her mind her orifice was wide and bell-mouthed. Then she was sent to fetch a large square music stool over which she, lying bottom up, had been vertically caned ... thirteen with him on her right and she looking at his crotch beneath the level of the table and fourteen after she had changed round to give him a good view of her left buttock. His trousers were made of some thin slightly elastic material which made it easy to transmute his bulge imaginatively into the hard and she hoped, thick penis which was drawing her.

  In passionate moments Jasmine kissed Isabel’s sex, but otherwise kissing formed a minor element in the play because other ideas supervened. She knew how to excite a man into size with scarcely a touch.

  He said, “now stand in front of me and show me.”

  She hoped as she did so, that he was not going to spurt before his time. It would be far better for him to thrust it into Isabel. She curved her bottom towards him as invitingly as the thought of Isabel’s open sheath and his shaft pushing steadily into it. Again her vagina began to quiver through the mist of thought. Dimly she heard him saying “go on Isabel.” and then began to feel the first fifteen strokes. It was a kind of double orgasm; the first exploding immediately, the later one rising through stroke after stroke to the expected consummation at the last.

  “I think Isabel deserves a kiss for that, don’t you?”

  So Jasmine, feeling that he had seen inside her mind, knelt, bloody-buttocked, and whilst Isabel held up her skirt, she put her lips to the naked slit. She wondered when Isabel had taken them off. Perhaps before she set out. Then Isabel shifted as if with impatience, and Jasmine her Roger’s voice:

  “Sixteen after the fruit, would you say, Jasmine?”

  She retracted her tongue and made a curve of her bottom for him.

  “Yes, of course, Roger.”

  She stood, cleared the table, set the fruit and turned her chair so that she could kneel on it.

  “It would never do to get blood on the brocade,” she remarked.

  “You don’t mind bleeding?”

  “No. Not for ...”

  “Isabel?”

  “Or you,” she smiled at the image of the, as yet, imagined engine inside his flies. Would there be an opportunity, she thought as she bent over again. The cane was becoming addictive: the more she had, the more she wanted. The sixteen cuts were over all too soon. Roll on seventeen!

  There had to be a sort of stage management for them. They had to move Jasmine’s table back so that she could freely bend over Roger’s. Then she faced him and put her head down onto the table. Two strokes hit her backside. He said:

  “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

  “It’s Heaven,” she said. Three more slashed across them. “Especially now,” she added and relaxed for three more. She was beginning to rise again. His next question chimed in with her mood.

  “Have you been?” The cane whistled and thudded.

  “Oh yes!” she said through the impacts and the lust pressure began to steady itself.

  “You liked kissing Isabel, of course.” Thud ... Thud ... Thud.

  She nodded vigorously.

  “And men?”

  She reached across to him and touched his hand. Three more strokes completed the seventeen.

  “How?” he asked.

  Jasmine rose from her breach presentation, moved in front of him and knelt. She unhooked the waistband of his trousers and unzipped them. There were, as she had thought for sometime, no pants underneath. The rammer sprang out at her. She very gently handled his balls free. It was as big an apparatus as she had hoped, thick, longer than a hand and stiffly ready.

  “Eighteen,” she said, putting it into her mouth.

  Co-educational c.p.

  Pauline was with Edmund at Paphos when she caught sight of a figure from her school past. He was quietly drinking an Ouzo under a cafe Wistaria. He looked up at about the same time and recognition kindled.

  “Well, well,” he said, “Robinson’s House wasn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  “In fact ...” he calculated, “we last met in the summer of 1936. It was the term of the House Hunt.” He looked at her, surmised that she was searching, and said:

  “Robert O’Connor.”

  “Yes,” Pauline said weakly, “twenty years and a war ago, and you remembered.”

  “No trouble,” he replied, “I worshipped the ground you walked on ... I probably still do.”

  “Sorry,” she said, “this is Edmund. Edmund this is Robert. A person at Uncumber College whom I admired very much.”

  “Tell me about this mutual admiration,” Edmund said.

  “It was slightly more one-sided than Miss Baxendine seems to suggest.”

  “Miss Baxendine?”

  “We addressed heads of houses formally on formal occasions ... I was her lad.”

  “Not what you think! Uncumbrian for ‘fag’ ... I suppose I’m exaggerating a bit. This is a story which you haven’t heard.”

  “Lurid or lascivious?”

  “Shall we bore him with it, Robert?”

  “I shall spank you if you don’t tell me and I shall spank you if you bore me,” Edmund said, “anyway what was a house hunt?”

  “Alright, her goes ... I had a pash for Tom Stormont.”

  “The irascible M.P?”

  “The same, but he was fascinated by a girl called Janet McDowlish ... very frustrating.”

  Robert interrupted:

  “You see, Tom’s was always having semi-amorous altercations with Janet. Janet thought it was rather a joke. She teased him into furies, so that sometimes people had to stop him hitting her.”

  “... And as this went on, I grew unendurably jealous.”

  “Which was absurd because Pauline was the unimagineably grand Chief Prefect and Janet was ... well, a bit more ‘somebody’ than I, but, frankly ‘nobody’.”

  “And then I had a common form punishment request from some teacher (we called them ‘authorities’) because Robert had missed a fire practice. You see, teachers weren’t allowed to punish. They had to send people to chief prefects for caning. We could refuse ... it was difficult, but we could. It was a printed thing which the teacher filled in.”

  “I was a new boy,” Robert explained. “She sent for me and I came up to her in the yard. It was very awkward, I remember it like it was yesterday: you took me into your study. You see, I had been led to believe that it was just an electrician testing the alarms, but I couldn’t let on who ...”

  “Why not?”

  “One didn’t,” Robert said shortly. “Pauline cross-examined me but as I still refused to say, and as it was a dangerous matter, she had no option but to disbelieve me, and told me to wait for her after Roll Call.”

  “More Uncumbrian,” Pauline said, “it was one of the ways of telling people that they would be caned. Then I went into lunch and Robert was in service and waited on me. As he was also my lad, we were embarrassingly thrown together for the rest of the day, but I dare say it was worse for him. I had once been in the same situation myself.”

  “Then,” Robert interrupted, “you announced that you meant to find out who had conned me and proposed to interview all the likely culprits.”

  “Yes. Something Robert had said made me suspect it was a filly ... by the way, there’s quite a bit of stable language in Uncumbrian. Anyhow, I saw three character
s including that nice Barbadian ... remember him?”

  “Claudius Rex.”

  “Yes. He knew but wouldn’t say: he said ‘if O’Connor won’t, how can I?”

  “He was a nice sensible bloke,” Robert said, “and very kind to miserable new foals like me.”

  “I could hear, when Claudius went out, that there was some argument going on outside. A slight delay made me impatient, then there was a knock ... Tom came in all uptight and flushed. There was still a good deal of noise in the passage. He said it was him.”

  “Yes?”

  “My heart melted and began to melt my courage, I was in love, remember. I asked him why. He said he thought it was funny, he said it as if, almost, he was asking the question rather than answering it. I asked him why he had not owned up sooner and he mumbled something about being late in refectory and not hearing all I had said. I couldn’t bear to prolong the interview ... If I was to punish you, I would have to punish him. So I said ‘after Roll Call’ to him too and made him go.”

  “Traumatic!”

  “The crowd in the passage then trampled off, still talking and shouting. Then it seemed to come to a violent stop further down, and I distinguished a girl’s voice saying something like ‘I bet she won’t’, It riled me ... I wasn’t going to have a mob in the prefects corridor, so I went out and sent them all packing. As I suspected Tom and Janet were among them.”

  “I never heard about that bit,” Robert said.

  “As you can imagine, I was in a bit of a state, but a match and an essay made the afternoon a bit less intolerable. Then came tea, by courtesy of Robert, and then I continued my essay in Evening Book Time which ended at 8.45. The roll was called at nine. I started to put on my leotard and gym shoes invariably worn for a caning, when in came Robert with more tea. I was a good deal more than half naked.”

  “You certainly were,” said Robert, “we were a co-educational school with few inhibitions, but I would have been less than human not to have noticed it.”

  “Put it on the table, please, I said as nonchalantly as I could. You looked at me. Was I right in thinking that I had given you an erection?”

  “Oh yes!”

  “Are we boring you Ed?”

  “If I take your pants down, it won’t be for that!”

  “Good! I laced up, and brought out the canes from their corner. For you, a short and light one; for Tom a full three-foot-sixer. It made my heart pound. I swallowed my tea, grabbed my shoulder bag and swung off down to the common hall where the House was as usual waiting.”

  “I remember you putting them on the mantelpiece.”

  “Yes ... Then I nodded to ... Esther?”

  “Esther Hass,” said Robert, “the duty prefect that day.”

  “She called the roll at enormous speed. The replies, Ed, were in Latin. You said ‘adsum’ but if you had been warned for Hall you said ‘adero’, I will be there. You and Tom said ‘adero’. I wished to God someone else could do it, but that would be shouting my misery from the housetops.”

  “I never went to a co-ed boarding school. It never occurred to me that there might be this sort of problem,” said Edmund.

  “Then roll-call was over. The House, seeing my leotard, crowed for the door leaving Tom and Robert, and of course the other prefects. Strewth!”

  “Heart in your mouth?”

  “M-m. You know: ‘here it comes’! I then began my piece about fire alarms, as much to steady me as anything.”

  “You were very convincing,” Robert said.

  “And then there was an uproar on the girls’ dormitory stairs which came down opposite the Common Hall door. It went on, and seemed to be getting worse. I sent Esther to suppress it, which she apparently did. They went on upstairs and she came back.”

  “Actually,” Robert said, “it was a bad time for me, waiting like that ... and then you went on and told Stormont that the trick was bloody and intolerable.”

  “So it was. Then somewhere higher in the house there was another outburst which sounded more distinctively vicious. I waited again. It subsided and then seemed to break out again on the move. It had distracted me from the signs of bewilderment on your face, Robert and I went on in the time-honoured way ‘and I’m proposing to beat you both. Have you anything to say’? I never expected a reply.”

  She paused for a moment.

  “And then, you Robert, a new foal, got yourself into the Guinness Book of Records. ‘Yes, Miss Baxendine, I have’, you said.”

  “You didn’t turn a hair,” said Robert, “you simply said ‘go on’. I thought, as I have already hinted, that you were wonderful.”

  “Dunno about that! But what you said was Stormont didn’t do it. You could’ve knocked me down with a feather!”

  “Esther seemed to shuffle about, at that moment, as if she had heard something or other,” Robert said.

  “You could have heard a pin drop. And then we heard the hounds baying upstairs. No one doubted you. Esther began to say something but the baying drowned it. The words I had heard in the Prefects’ Corridor re-crossed my mind. I said something like ‘this needs investigation’ and asked Stormont what he had to say, but then I realised that something was really wrong and sent you back to your loose-boxes.”

  “I didn’t see what happened next,” Robert said, “but years later I had a letter from Esther about it. I’ve kept it in my wallet. It was a turning point in both our lives.” He took some thin type-written sheets out and spread them on the table. “We had been in contact ... Er ... Here it is.” She sprinted up the stairs towards the small dormitory at the top. There was a press of juniors obstructing the flight and straining to catch what was going on. Terrible sounds like hounds breaking up a fox. She was in perfect training and self command. She said determinedly STAND ASIDE, and they made a avenue which she passed in three upward strides to the door. The room was packed. Janet McD was crouching in the corner. Hair streaming about her face; blouse torn down to the waist; kilt nowhere to be seen; knickers ragged. She was wet through. Tears were pouring down her filthy face, but her fists were up, still. As Pauline came in sight of her, a luggage strap flailed across the whiteness of the wall. We realised that this was one of the legendary House Hunts.”

  Pauline said, “they were handed down in school tradition. People were supposed to have been killed.”

  “Atkinson, he was her second,” Robert went on, “was with her. Then she called, I can only say with all her soul. ‘Silence, make way’.”

  “There was a moments surprise. George Atkinson roared ‘shut up, when the Chief Prefect tells you’. People stood frozen, Kafkaesque. Half a dozen, closest to Janet, held luggage straps. Pauline thrust herself in front of her, and turned to face them. She called them chicken-livered yellow bellied hooligans who couldn’t even came to grips at fifty to one odds. Somebody started to shout but she only had to say ‘be quiet’. She was magnificent!”

  Pauline was beginning to blush. Ed noticed it, but kept quiet.

  “Then she said to Janet ‘go and tidy yourself up and come and see me in my study’, and practically drove her out of the room ... and then she really started. What a performance!”

  “I remember this bit,” Pauline said. “They started to blame each other and I said that I knew perfectly well why this had happened but that none of them seemed to have the courage of their own convictions. Then I warned the six whom I saw trying the thrash Janet for Hall and asked them all at large again who had started it. There was a blank silence. I lost my temper and cancelled all privileges.”

  “ALL privileges,” Robert said, “that meant that the whole house was suddenly reduced to the status of new foals ... they would be the laughing stock of the whole school.”

  “Then we all went downstairs, and George Atkinson said ‘hadn’t we better consult the Authority’? Of course I would
have done, but there wasn’t time, so now we were stuck with it. He remarked that we’d have had Janet in hospital in two more minutes.”

  “As bad as that?” said Ed.

  “George and I then went to my study, and in due course Esther appeared and reported ‘All Quiet’.”

  “Yes” said Robert, “Esther says here that you had sent her on patrol.”

  “Then Janet knocked and came in. She had cleaned herself up, and roughly combed her hair. Usually it was up in a top-knot but was still straggly. She was adequately clothed, but still on the verge of a breakdown. George tactfully went out. You have to remember that this was all very difficult for me because I hated her. So I said: “Is there anything you want to tell me?” and she started to sob. Tears and so forth. So I told her to take her time. After a little she said that it had been a sort of joke. I got on my high horse, I’m afraid. I seem to remember saying; ‘How was it supposed to be funny? Is getting new foals into trouble funny? And what about Tom’. They had, it seemed, called her every name under the sun, particularly ‘bitch’ which was no more than true. Then she said that she didn’t realize what would happen or what it might mean ... I asked if she had meant anything or thought at all.”

  ‘It was meant to be a practical joke and it got out of hand’ and I said (rather violently) “you mean inconvenient to you. You were exploiting his feelings just as you were exploiting O’Connor’s inexperience, I also said much more to the same effect. In fact I compelled her to admit everything and then told her to meet me at the table in the Common Hall.

  Robert said, “most of the prefects were there already. Janet came in with the last two. The canes were on the mantelpiece where you had left them when you rushed upstairs. You took the long one and told her that she had committed two major offences each of which deserved twelve strokes and asked her if that was correct. She actually said ‘yes’. Then you said that in view of the House Hunt, you would halve the penalty and only give her twelve altogether. She was completely docile and bent over the small table without a word. It was Esther who flipped up her kilt and took her pants down. Her bum was criss-crossed with masses of strap welts.”