Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 The Girls' School (MF Mf M+F+f+ FF ff F+f+ bdsm span fdom cons) By: Connard
Wellingham Copyright (c) Connard Wellingham 2003

   This story contains what is known as 'adult content', ie sex.  Why one
should be allowed to read about murder, torture, violence and killing but
not sex is a mystery to me - but there you go, that's the way it is.  So if
it is not legal for you to read about sex where you are, or you are deemed
too young to read about sex or, you find stories about sex offensive - DO
NOT READ THIS STORY.

   This story is fiction.  This story is FANTASY.  It is intended solely
for your amusement and enjoyment.  The author would not like to mislead the
more gullible among you that the world really is as depicted here.  Whether
the world would be a better place if people did behave as they do in the
story is a moot point.

   This story can be freely distributed so long as;

   a) neither the distributor nor the recipient make any profit from it,

   b) no words are changed without the author's consent,

   c) the author is credited with being the author,

   d) this warning section is included,

   e) acknowledgment is given to www.asstr.org as being the original source
of the text.

   The author welcomes helpful comments and can be contacted at
cwellingham@SoftHome.net.

   Chapter 14 - Felicia (Mf,bdsm)

   Felicia remained an enigma.  On the one hand she was a full member of
the Inner Circle and took an active part in all the Society's activities
but, on the other, she kept herself somewhat aloof, at least as far as he
was concerned.  While the rest of the girls had begun to relax in his
classes and, in many cases, actively flirt with him, Felicia held herself
apart.  Not that she was awkward or uncooperative, no, it was more that she
seemed to be disengaged, disinterested.

   This both saddened and disturbed him for, in a school full of
exceedingly attractive girls, in his eyes Felicia stood head and shoulders
above the rest.  She had the looks of a fantasy American cheerleader;
heavy, blonde hair, a slightly retroussé nose, lips that seemed to settle
themselves naturally into a pout.  Unlike the wholesome image of the
all-American cheerleader, her blue eyes seemed to smoulder with a promise
of unimaginable delights.  Her figure, too, was outstanding; full breasts
that started high on her chest and consequently looked even larger than
they were, a narrow waist and flaring hips.  And her bottom!  To Adam it
was the most perfectly shaped bottom he had ever seen.  He was constantly
tempted to touch it, smack it, fondle it.  He was not particularly into
anal sex but his recurring fantasy was to ease his cock between these
perfect cheeks and penetrate her anal sphincter.

   His problem was that he couldn't work out how to get through this
barrier.  Oh, he knew he could just tell her to turn up at a certain time
and place and she would do so, but somehow that didn't seem right.  It
dawned on him that he really wanted a 'normal' relationship with her.  He
wanted to woo her, court her, win her heart.  He tried everything he knew
to draw her out, engage her attention, but to no avail.

   It was Jacqueline, as usual, who solved his problem.

   "You're going to have to do something about Felicia," she said one day
out of the blue.

   "What do you mean?"

   She looked at him askance.  "I mean you're going to have to get your
relationship with her sorted out.  And soon.  There'll be trouble if you
don't."

   He sighed.  "Is it so obvious?"

   "Don't tell me it's mutual."

   "What is mutual?"

   "Men!" she exclaimed.  "Look, the poor girl is pining over you something
rotten.  She's been bitten badly.  I can't see what she sees in you." She
said nastily.

   "She is?  She has?" He was astounded.

   She shook her head in disgust.  "Adam, sometimes you can be the densest
man alive, you know."

   "I know, " he grinned.  "It's part of my charm.  But what about
Felicia?"

   She blew him a raspberry.  "After that remark I don't think I should
tell you.  I think I should just let you stew."

   "You wouldn't do that to me, would you?"

   "No," she sighed.  "I wouldn't.  Although you don't seem to have
noticed, Felicia is in love with you.  And it would seem the feeling's
mutual."

   He blushed.  "Not very professional, is it?"

   "Fuck professional.  What are you going to do about it?"

   "I don't know," he sighed.  "I can't seem to get through to her.  I want
to - I try to communicate with her but there seems to be some sort of
barrier and I can't break it down."

   "Then you're going the wrong way about it."

   "I know, but I'm not sure what to do.  I don't want to put her off."

   "Put her off?" Jacqueline was flabbergasted.  "Look, you've tried the
civilised approach and it isn't working so why not try the opposite?  Try
the caveman approach.  Just drag her off into the bushes and shag her
rotten."

   He opened and closed his mouth several times but could find nothing
coherent to say.

   "Think about it," said Jacqueline, getting up.  "But not for too long."

   ~~~~~~~

   He studied Felicia carefully for the next few days, turning Jacqueline's
suggestion over in his mind.  She seemed to be aware of his scrutiny and
endured it indifferently.  After much agonising, he made up his mind. 
'After all, you're not getting anywhere as it is and her solution might
just work,' he told himself.

   He planned the scenario carefully, checking and re-checking in his mind
to make sure he had it just right.  This had to be special, he knew.  He
had just one chance and he didn't want to blow it.  Then, during his free
periods, he set about searching for what he wanted.

   ~~~~~~~

   When all was ready, he called Felicia back as she was leaving the
classroom.  "Felicia, I would like to see you this evening at 7, please."

   She paled slightly.  "Yes, sir," she murmured a bit reluctantly.

   "Now do you have white stockings - no suspenders, white shoes, a short,
pleated skirt and a thin white blouse?"

   She thought for a minute then nodded.

   "Good.  Seven, then.  Don't be late,"

   She glanced up at him, coyly, "Is this schoolgirl fantasy time?"

   He frowned.  "That is an impertinent question.  Let's just say it's a
variation on Ms Henderson's office."

   "Yes, sir," she breathed and sashayed out of the room.

   ~~~~~~~

   He checked the room again to make sure all was right.  It wasn't much
but he fussed about like a broody hen.  He felt like a callow teenager on
his first date again.

   The armchair was black leather.  He had considered and discarded white
and maroon leather, brocade and velour.  The window was blacked out to
ensure the only light came from the standard lamp next to the chair.  The
standard lamp was set just so, so that the chair itself and the floor in
front of it was bathed in a pool of warm light and the rest of the room
shrouded in shadows.  In the gloom, he had placed several frames from the
club room, some of which he had draped with black cloth to make them loom
menacingly in the shadows.

   Satisfied all was in order, he sat in the chair and waited.  She was
exactly on time.

   "Come," he called in response to her knock.

   She stood just inside the door slightly knock-kneed looking coyly at the
floor, trying to affect a look of slutty innocence.  She didn't need to for
she was the picture of schoolgirl sex.  The light from the corridor behind,
framed her like a corona.  She had followed his instructions perfectly; the
lacy tops of the white, net stockings ended just below the hem of the dark
grey pleated skirt.  The loose white shirt shimmered in the low light.

   "Shut the door and come here." He pointed to a spot just in front of
where he sat .  "Stand up straight, hands behind your back."

   Starting at her toes, painted red he noticed with pleasure, he slowly
and insolently ran his eyes up her body.  He met her eyes watching him with
a strange expression - apprehension, excitement, fear?  He smiled slowly
and coolly and she flushed under his gaze.  He leaned back in the chair,
simulating an indifference he most definitely did not feel.

   "Are you wearing a bra?"

   "No."

   "Panties?"

   "No."

   "Put your hands on top of your head."

   Her breasts lifted under the silky material, stretching it; her nipples
making small mountains under the taut cloth.

   "Turn round."

   Slowly she pirouetted.  The pleated skirt hung from the rounded swell of
her bottom, tantalisingly concealing the lush curves.

   "Bend over"

   She had to brace her feet apart to maintain her balance as she bent at
the waist.  The movement lifted the hem of her skirt revealing the
delightful lower arcs of her bottom cheeks and the plump split peach of her
vulva.  The contrast between the warm skin and the white, net stockings was
intensely erotic.  He caressed the end of the riding crop up and down the
sensitive insides of her thighs then flicked it upwards at her vulva.

   "Ow," she gasped, rocking forwards and almost losing her balance.

   "Be still."

   He caressed the leather tip up and down her thighs a few more times,
occasionally flicking the tip against her cunt.  She gasped and tensed her
thighs at the blows but otherwise held her pose.

   "Stand up and turn round.  You can bring your arms down."

   She turned to face him again, her face flushed and her eyes shrouded in
mystery.  He regarded her calmly although his heart was pounding and his
cock was making an uncomfortable bulge in his trousers.

   "Kneel." He pointed with the crop.  "Spread your knees.  Wider.  Now
lean back and grip your ankles."

   In this position her breasts were thrust up and out, the shirt pulled
tightly across them.  Her nipples, now obviously aroused, jutted proudly.
He leaned forward and slowly undid the buttons, pulling the shirt free from
her skirt.  Her breasts were magnificent: generous without being heavy with
conical pink areolae tipped by broad pink nipples.  He stroked them with
his fingers.  They were, as he had known they would be, delightful to touch
- soft and elastic yet firm, her warm skin soft and smooth as velvet.  His
enchanted fingers explored their fullness, circling round the base and
teasing the nipples.  She dropped her head back, eyes closed and breathing
heavily as he teased her.

   "Felicia." Her head snapped forward.  "There's something I must say. 
You know I am going to hurt you.  Maybe a lot." She nodded.  He continued
toying with her breasts as he spoke.  "If you want to stop, just say so. 
Do you understand?"

   "Yes." Her voice was barely a whisper.

   "Good."

   Without taking his eyes off her face, he reached behind him and found
two nipple clamps connected by a silver chain.  He tweaked one nipple
between fingers and thumb, pulling it into prominence, then deftly affixed
the clamp.  Her eyes flew wide and her mouth opened in a soundless 'O' as
sparks of pain shot through her body.  Without waiting he repeated the
action with the other nipple.  A tear slipped from the corners of her eyes
and slid down her cheek but she uttered not a sound.  With a gentle finger,
he wiped them away.

   "Stand up, take off your skirt and resume your position."

   Now her cunt was exposed and it was as beautiful as the rest of her; her
swelling mons, covered in soft hair the same honey shade as her head,
nestled roundly and proudly between her thighs.  The white of her stockings
setting off the warm tone of her skin.

   "You are very beautiful," he said.

   Standing, he took up the riding crop and pushed the chair away with his
foot.  He looked down at her for a moment then flicked the crop against her
mons.  She jerked and gasped.  He regarded her for a moment then, carefully
and deliberately began to smack her: the insides of her thighs, the front
of her thighs, her mons, her belly, her breasts.  He tried to keep the
blows light - to sting rather than hurt.  He wanted to tease her, to
torment her, to make her burn.  As he worked, never landing a blow on the
same place twice, he saw her outer labia swell and open to reveal the pink
lips of her inner labia.  Small drops of moisture oozed from between them.

   When he had started out, he wondered what his reactions would be.  He
had never set out before to deliberately hurt someone - least of all a
beautiful teenage girl who was also one of his students.  Of course there
had been the punishment session and the Society meetings but there he had
been part of a pageant, a ritual.  This was different.  He had set this up
intentionally.  Set it up so he would be alone with this beautiful,
desirable girl.  Set it up deliberately to cause her pain.  Would he be
able to go through with it?  Would he enjoy it?  Could he keep control?

   Somewhat to his surprise he was more than enjoying it.  The sight of the
beautiful girl kneeling submissively before him accepting the pain he was
causing her was more exciting, more arousing than anything he had ever
known.  His cock was rigidly painful.  And yet, despite the excitement, a
part of him was detached; a part that was calmly and coolly directing the
blows, watching the girl's reactions and judging the next move.

   Throughout his assault, Felicia maintained her pose - knees spread,
hands on ankles and head thrown back, although she jerked and twitched with
every blow.  Indeed, her body was arched, willingly offering herself to his
attack.  A slow flush spread across her skin, starting at her face and
spreading downwards to suffuse her whole body so that he could no longer
tell where his blows had landed.  She did not cry out but gasped in short,
panting breaths.  Tears rolled down her cheeks from her closed eyes.

   He was considering stopping and moving on to the next torment when a low
guttural moan emerged from the back of her throat.  She arched her back
even more, straining it upwards and her belly trembled and convulsed.  She
wailed, then sagged.  The delicate, musky odour of young girl cum filled
the air and moisture seeped from her cunt.

   Then she really was sobbing and clinging to his leg and wailing, "I'm
sorry.  I'm sorry, Sir.  I didn't mean to.  Forgive me."

   He put a hand in her hair and pulled her head back.  "Well, I didn't say
you couldn't," he said mildly.  "I forgive you."

   "Oh, thank you, Sir, thank you."

   He pulled her to her feet and made her sit in the armchair, legs hooked
over the sides.  Dropping to his knees, he buried his face between her
spread thighs and sucked at her juice-laden cunt, poking his tongue deep
into her vagina to get at it all.  She tasted tart and sweet, musty and
fresh all at the same time.  Her juice was and intoxicating aphrodisiac. 
She panted and moaned and beat the arms of the chair with fists as he
pleasured her with his tongue.

   "However," he went on, kneeling back on his heels, his face flushed and
sticky with her juices, "you did interrupt my plans somewhat so a small
reminder is in order."

   She looked at him with a hint of fear in her eyes but obeyed willingly
enough when he made her kneel up on the arms of the chair resting her head
and arms on the back.  In this position her legs were spread obscenely wide
and her bottom was thrust out tautly and wantonly.  He caressed his hands
over the satin-smooth skin and ran the tips of his fingers up the exposed
crack, lingering briefly at the puckered pink hole of her arse.

   "You have a lovely bottom, Felicia.  I'm going to enjoy taking it one
day."

   He had no idea why he said that.  He had never been particularly turned
on by anal sex before.  But seeing it's pink perfection offered so
shamelessly to him, brought on a sudden desire to penetrate it.  She
shivered at his touch and his words but said nothing.

   He fetched a table-tennis bat from his stock of accessories.

   "As this is a sort of punishment, you will count the strokes."

   "May...  may I ask how many?" she husked.

   "As many as I feel like.  You just keep counting."

   He turned the bat smooth side down and started to paddle her bottom.

   "Oww," she cried.  "One.  Aieee, two..."

   He did not hit her particularly hard but her skin was sensitive after
the previous beating and her orgasms so each blow seemed like an explosion
of fire in her bottom.  Every so often he turned the bat over and beat her
with the stippled side.  On her already tender skin, the hard rubber
stipples were nails of liquid fire and she screamed even louder.  She
gripped the back of the chair tightly and cried and yelled and counted.



   At fifty he stopped.  Her perfect bottom was red and he was concerned
about really injuring her.  What's more he knew he couldn't hold out much
longer.  His cock was so hard it was painful and his balls ached.  He
dropped he bat and struggled out of his jeans and underpants, almost
falling over in his haste.  He straightened and watched her for a moment,
her face hidden by her hair, her perfect round bottom red and glowing and
contrasting with the white net stockings.

   As he watched something amazing happened.  A low animal moan came from
deep in her throat and red flush spread across her entire body.  She began
to wriggle and twist on the chair - not as in pain but as if she had an
itch that she couldn't scratch.

   "Ohhhhh," she moaned.  "Please.  Please.  I want it.  I need it now."



   "What do you want, Felicia?"

   She wriggled her bottom.  "I want you to do me.  Please.  Take me.  I
need you now.  Inside me.  Please, Sir...  Master."

   He placed his palms on her burning cheeks.  Her cunt was dripping.

   "What, exactly, do you want me to do?" he asked teasingly.

   "You know," she moaned.  "Put your thing in me.  I can't stand it. 
Please.  Fuck me!" she screamed.



   He smiled triumphantly.  This was an unexpected but very welcome
development.  Fucking her was exactly what he had in mind but he had not
expected her to be actually begging for it.  Taking his cock firmly in
hand, he guided it to the entrance of her dripping cunt and inserted it in
one long, steady stroke.  She screamed and convulsed and nearly fell off
the chair as she felt him penetrate her.

   "Oh, God," she cried.  "Yes!  Yes!  Fuck me hard!" He gave her what she
wanted.  Gripping her hips, he slammed into her as hard as he could, his
belly smacking against her painful and tender bottom.  She gripped the back
of the chair tightly, rested her head on it and thrust back against him
eagerly, seeming oblivious to the pain.  She panted and groaned and moaned
and he fucked her brutally.  Her cunt was tight and hot and seemed to wrap
around his cock as if it hade been made for it.  With all the excitement of
the evening, he knew he couldn't last long.  Fortunately, neither could
Felicia.

   "Oh!  Yes!  Gonna cum," she panted.

   "So am I," he groaned and humped faster.

   With an ululating moan, her body convulsed.  Hot wetness flooded his
cock and the walls of her vagina gripped his cock.  It was too much for
him. His balls contracted and he tensed his buttocks to force his cock as
deeply into her as he could as his cum spurted into her.

   Spent and trembling he collapsed over her back for a moment.  He wanted
to stay buried deep inside her for ever but he was aware that she must be
near the point of collapse.  Reluctantly, he withdrew, their combined
juices running stickily from her cunt and down her thighs.  He helped her
down from the chair.  They stood face to face, trembling with the reaction
to their sex.  He looked down at her.  With her hair matted with sweat, her
face red and tear-streaked, her eyes bright and hooded, he thought she was
just about the most desirable sight on earth.  She peered up at his face
intently then, suddenly she smiled.

   "Master," she said simply and dropped to her knees.  Taking his sticky
cock in her hand, she proceeded to lick and suck him clean.  His heart
swelled at this act of homage and he stroked her hair tenderly.  At last he
urged her to her feet and bent and kissed her, tasting his cum and hers and
not caring.

   "Felicia," he said.

   "Master," she replied.

   There was a whole world of meaning in these two words.

   "Are you going home tomorrow?"

   "No."

   "Then will you spend the night with me?"

   She touched a finger to his lips.  "You don't have to ask."

   "But I want to.  Will you?"

   She smiled ruefully.  "I don't think I'll be good for much after that."

   He smiled back.  "It doesn't matter.  I just want to hold you."

   "Oh," she blushed bright red and dropped her gaze.  He realised she was
crying.

   "Felicia, what's the matter?"

   She shook her head.  "Nothing.  Its just that...  that's the nicest
thing anybody's ever said to me."

   He pulled her into his arms and held her for a long, timeless moment.

   ~~~~~~~

   The change in their relationship could not be hidden and it was soon
common knowledge that the pair had a special bond - Felicia belonged to
Adam in some distinctive and personal way.  There was some banter, not all
of it good-natured.  Some, like Tricia, who believed they also occupied a
special area in his heart were upset and he had to be very careful to
reassure them that his feelings for them had not changed.

   But things had changed.  Felicia became a frequent visitor to his
apartment, often staying overnight and the two explored the depths of their
new relationship.  Equally happy nights were spent in Anne's apartment as
she guided and helped them understand the intricacies of the master-slave
relationship.  Surprisingly neither woman appeared to be jealous of the
other - for which Adam was extremely grateful.  He would have been hard
pressed to decide which of them he loved most.  As it was, Felicia seemed
content to accept Anne's commands as much as his.