ST. FAITH’S SCHOOL FOR GIRLS – JULY 1959
Chapter 1 : Part 2
My fine leather pumps beat a tattoo on the floor as I walked away from Miss Ransome’s office, but my heart beat almost as loudly. Imprinted on my mind’s eye was the older woman, my headmistress, on her knees at my feet, kissing my shoes.
As soon as I left the school building, by its polished oak door, I dug in my bag for the Gauloise packet once more. My fingers trembling visibly with adrenaline, I held a flame to one and dragged in a shaky breath to light it.
The fucking bitch knelt at my command! And from the look in her eyes she loved every minute. I wanted to laugh out loud at the irony. I had returned to school for revenge, and what I had dealt out had caused her pleasure.
I wasn’t the inexperienced 17 year-old she had tormented with demeaning tasks all those years ago, although my cold fury as I railed against the humiliation felt as sharp now as it had been then. The difference was that now I better understood the turmoil of feelings my body experienced when she subjugated me to her will.
My nipples had hardened against my silky chemise when Miss Ransome’s voice shook, and when I spat into her mouth and made her swallow my cigarette ash, I’d felt a rush of warmth against the gusset of my undergarments.
Glancing around me I saw pupils wandering around the lush school grounds arm in arm reciting latin verbs, and from the practice rooms I could hear the scrape of violin bows and flautists playing scales.
I needed to frig myself, and for that I needed privacy. Heedless of mud staining my beautiful shoes, I cut across the gardens to the stable block which I knew so well from my time at the school. I pushed through the doors and my nostrils were assaulted by the comforting smells of oils and waxes from the leather tack and the all pervasive tangs of horse manure. I found an empty horsebox and hiked my black skirt up to my waist, exposing creamy thighs to the fresh air.
With one hand I began to rub and stroke at my pussy outside the fabric of my satin scanties, I felt a burning urgency but the need to tease myself was equally strong. Biting back moans, I rubbed the fleshy swell as my moisture soaked through. My nude silk stockings framed the top of my thighs, held in place by suspenders. As I tugged at the gusset of my knickers the central seam split my nether lips to rub deliciously against my clit.
Already the fabric of my drawers was stained with arousal, how animalistic my passion seemed as I drew damp fingers past my nose and sucked off my juices.
“Ouvre ta bouche!” I repeated in my head. I remembered the warm, wet pinkness of Miss Ransome’s mouth, opened in supplication.
I slid two fingers into my own warm, wet pinkness and began to frig myself to completion, tugging on a nipple through my blouse with my free hand. My excitement built to a crescendo, fuelled by the final view of my headmistress kneeling on the floor of her study at my command, applying her lips submissively to the cigarette butt I’d discarded.
The story of Delphine’s school days continues next week. The image below is from Unsplash.