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(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 fifteen of my sorry tale.)
I lay back, thankful that I had survived Sally’s horrendous orgasm, but noticed that my penis had been dribbling with precum. Clearly I had derived some sort of pleasure from this awful experience. Her heavy arse still lay over me, trapping my face under her. I was covered in sweat, and sexual secretions which had oozed all over me.
I yelled out and told her that I couldn’t breathe, but she just sat on me panting. I kicked my feet about and moved my hands against the make-shift bonds which held my limbs tightly to the four corners of the double bed. I thought my time was up, and that on my gravestone someone would carve the words ‘David Eric Shaw 1940-1960, suffocated under a cleaning-lady’s arse’.
Elsie realised that I was suffering and pulled Sally off me. As I emerged from under her dirty skirt and underslip I gasped and groaned and shook my face and spat out her pubic hair. My face was sticky with her natural lubrication. Elsie eyed me up and down and pulled herself up heavily on to the bed. She looked frighteningly large and her bottom was massive and substantially more rounded than Sally’s.
“This won’t take me long, laddy,” she said as she hitched up her washed-out flowery skirt and torn lace-trimmed petticoat and walked around, on the bed, unsteadily above me.
She placed one heavy stockinged foot on one side of my head and swung the other one over me allowing me a clear view up her skirt of her vaginal opening. The mattress depressed noticeably as she swayed around and steadied herself, finally squatting on me, holding onto my head. She dropped her skirt and petticoat over me so that again my upper body was concealed from view.
There was a sickening ‘squelching’ sound as her protruding fleshy flaps landed squarely on my face. The smell and dampness was intense and ghastly. Her coarse hands grabbed my head as she began slowly wiping her dripping cunt up and down my face. She concentrated most of her efforts into sliding my nose into, and out of, her opening; I was at her complete mercy and my struggles to escape prove futile.
Up and down, she slid over me as I tried to breathe through her pubic hair. My face gradually became completely covered in vaginal slime which had a strong intense smell to it. Up and down, up and down she slid over me as if she was using my nose to rinse her labia.
My penis became rock hard again. I was desperate to masturbate but clearly couldn’t because of my ties. Above me she continued pleasuring herself, taking her time, savouring every contour of my face under her glistening pussy. Her lips protruded more and more and I felt her outer lips on my cheeks, as my nostrils were dragged through her hot cleft over and over again.
My penis extended even further and it felt as if it was twice as long as normal. I ached for relief.
“Tongue up my fanny, lad,” she croaked, her words muffled by her cotton skirt and cheap undergarments.
I stuck my tongue out as she continued wiping herself up and down my face. I felt disgusted and at the same time excited at having this middle-aged woman, reeking of urine, vagina, disinfectant and cheap scent sliding her gruesome genitalia backwards and forwards across my face within the restricted confines of her skirt and petticoat.
At close quarters her stockings appeared wrinkled and laddered. Clearly these were her oldest nylons and they both felt smooth and scratchy as they were dragged rhythmically against my cheeks. She was pleasuring herself in her work clothes. She gripped my head, through her skirt, and began groaning and then began violently jerking.
It was now very hot and sweaty under her nylon slip. Her labia hung down beneath her pubic hair and passed rapidly over my upturned face, over and over and over again. It was horrible yet exciting. My penis had almost turned itself inside out seeking relief. Over and over again she continued jerking, slapping and sliding. My head felt like a rugby ball in a loose scrum.
Her fleshy folds sucked me in, as she kept up her incessant activity clearly seeking to bring herself off on my slippery face. bahis firmaları By now I could sense that her climax was close at hand. Her jerking was replaced by short vicious energetic rubbings with my nose and her clitoris in close connection. I felt my head would be yanked off my body and willed her to complete her masturbation before I passed out. She grunted above me and cursed.
“Oih, oih, oh, ah, lovely, ahh, oh, oh,” she continued, clearly on the brink.
Then it came. She pushed herself down hard over me, froze, then her thighs quivered, her body shook, shuddered, juddered, and spasmed and out gushed more vagina juice until her screams announced her orgasm was over. Sweat poured off me and I genuinely felt I was drowning. She lay back on top of me exposing her genitalia and outspread legs. The view was quite awful and I cannot even bare to describe it. I struggled under her telling her to get off me so that I could breathe and get some sort of sensation back into my penis and testicles which were trapped beneath her.
Eventually both cleaning women decided I needed a break. They untied me from the scarves and belts and I hot-footed it to the bathroom. I peed enthusiastically and felt as if I was part of the real world and not a mere sexual toy, or contoured male play doll, upon which females could obtain their orgasms.
I washed my face and hair, scraping off the accumulation of slime and secretions which stuck to my lips, nose and chin. Once again I felt human. I toweled myself dry. The cleaners finished off their vacuum cleaning and changed the bedding throughout the dormitory. They were insistent that I be retied to the four corners of the bed as they explained that they were not supposed to interfere with any of the girls’ personal belongings. Apparently now I was reclassified as one of their ‘personal belongings’; I felt sub-human and a mere plaything yet again.
Sexy Things with the French girls
When the cleaners left, I was left alone for about fifteen minutes when I heard a surge of activity in the stairwell. Twenty French schoolgirls were running up the stairs. I was aware that this Saturday morning was very dark and overcast and that rain threatened.
They burst into the dormitory and several made a dash for the lavatories. Several others surrounded my bed and one, I think it was Eloise Larocque, had some breakfast in a paper napkin. They untied my hands and allowed me to eat. Another girl had brought me up some lukewarm tea which I drank avidly, and when I had finished they tied me tightly down on the double bed so that I could not move a muscle. Someone readjusted all the ties so I was spread-eagled more tightly than ever I was on Miss Wiff-Naseford’s floor. I could only just raise my head.
The dormitory was dark, even though it was only about half past ten, as the rain lashed down outside. Various girls switched their reading lights on by their beds and sat or knelt, reading or writing letters. I could only stare at the ceiling. The continental quilt had been placed on the chair beside me and I lay flat on my back naked listening to the sounds surrounding me.
Danielle Lalonde, the nineteen year old, who spoke almost perfect English, explained that on Saturday they were expected to catch up on their school work, write letters home or indulge in their hobbies. She told me that several of them were interested in biology and wanted to study ‘the male penis’ in more detail.
My face went cold and at the same time my penis rolled to one side and began slowly growing in length and girth. I was immediately surrounded by five of the girls, Lysette, Eloise, Marianne, Yvette and Nicole. They appeared so young, tall and slim in comparison with the scruffy old cleaners.
Danielle told them that I had agreed that they could study me. To be honest I had no choice. I just felt very small and puny next to these immaculately dressed French beauties who strutted around me in their high-heels staring down at my genitals. I looked at them closely. Their knee-length blue tartan pleated school skirts overhung the edge of the bed as they leant against it. Eloise caught my attention as she retensioned her stocking, revealing a deep lace-trimmed white petticoat and lacy suspender belt. I had forgotten that the school uniform included black stockings. She dropped her skirt hem and shook her pleats down, smoothing them back into place.
I felt the bottom of the bed suddenly depress behind me and a pair of knees push firmly against the top of my head, ruffling my hair. The other girls sat around me so that they could view my now fully erect penis. I felt the scratchiness of plaid pleats and nylon clad legs against my arms and legs as they made themselves comfortable.
Whoever it was who was kneeling on the bed behind me had now decided to straddle my face. Her knees parted and, firstly, a layer of pleated skirt, followed by white nylon underslip swept over my face as she lifted her bottom and slid further over me, kaçak iddaa splaying her legs. She was wearing a pair of thin pale pink nylon French knickers trimmed with delicate rose-patterned lace. Her underwear smelled of perfume. Once in position she lowered her derriere onto my face so that my nose was rammed into the tight nylon between her buttocks.
I was completely immobile and also felt very vulnerable. My field of view was confined to her petticoat and skirt which she had spread over me behind her. Once again I was in a claustrophobic enclosed ‘petticoat world’ unable to move. Fortunately I could breathe through my mouth but gradually became aware that above me her vagina was dripping secretions into her knickers and onto my chin and lips. She shuffled about on top of me spreading her posterior cheeks more widely over my face. She scratched her buttocks through her skirt and I was almost deafened by the froufrou hissing sounds of nylon against nylon.
The girls were talking quickly and loudly and I did not know what was going on. I felt a piece of paper being slid under my rock-hard penis where it lay pointing stiffly to my navel across my lower belly. The paper was placed so that my penis root was at one end. A thin pair of hands started furiously manipulating and pulling at my foreskin. This was followed by giggles then further pulling and tweaking. I felt someone mark the position of the end of my penis on the paper using a pencil or ballpoint.
The bed swayed as the girls changed position. I smelled the distinctive smell of warm vagina emanating from the girl who was sitting on my face.
Another, cooler, pair of hands violently yanked and pummeled at my erection. This was followed by more giggling from the nineteen year olds, including my captor. Again I felt my penis being measured, this time I was sure someone was writing their initials next to the mark on the paper. This continued until it was my captor’s turn to attempt to lengthen my erection. She knelt forward uncovering my face so that I could breathe in fresh cool air. Her thin fingers ferociously pulled, pushed, squeezed until she was happy and a mark was placed on the paper. There was cheering and laughing. Clearly someone had won the competition but I could not tell who. All I knew was that my penis felt twice its normal length although clearly it wasn’t. My captor sat back on my face. My face was swamped against tartan pleats. She lifted her skirt and petticoat and threw them over me casually so once again my head lay within the confined constricting space inside her school skirt.
There followed further pulling a squeezing as each girl tried to improve on her previous score. Again I re-emerged into daylight briefly as my captor scratched and clawed at my rigid shaft determined to better her earlier attempt. The paper by now must have been covered in marks. She flipped up her skirt and waist-slip and sat down on my face and shuffled from side to side ensuring my nose was fully between her arse cheeks. She laughed at something and the bed shook around me. I felt completely and utterly helpless. I became aware that the girls were having a third attempt to better their score; ‘the best of three’ I thought. I lay there completely at their mercy while the pulling and squeezing continued.
Over and over again my erection was manipulated and measured amid cheers and giggling. I was sure that this had nothing to do with ‘biological studies’ and again I yearned for sexual relief. My captor knelt up and I stared at her damp crotch loosely concealed by her French knickers. My erection immediately strained further as I breathed in the smell of warm cunt just inches from my nostrils. The pencil line was drawn, and this was greeted with wild shrieks. I understood from this that my captor had won the competition. It turned out to be Lysette Pelletier.
Lysette swung her long legs off me and I looked around. The weather was atrocious and the windows rattled against the wind. The girls returned to their beds leaving me to stare from side to side and wonder what would happen next.
From nowhere a pair of legs appeared under twirling pleats and straddled me full on my face. She spread her petticoat and skirt over me and again I was plunged into muffled darkness. She knelt further forward so that my nose was rammed into her intensely smelly knicker crotch. She told me that I was a ‘dirty boy’. Immediately I realised it was Marianne Martineau, the girl with the swaying hips and penchant for brutal milking. Fortunately she had her back to my penis and seemed disinterested in my genitalia. She sat impassively on my face clearly satisfied to have my nostrils in close contact with her gusset. I heard her open a book then felt her place it on her lap over my head. It was a heavy book and she appeared to be taking notes judging by the other movements above me. She talked to another girl and said.
“C’est vraiment séance tout à fait confortable sur le visage ‘du perverti sale ‘,” she explained that it was kaçak bahis actually quite comfortable sitting on the ‘dirty pervert’s’ face.
She remained on top of me for many long minutes, turning the page and making jottings in her exercise book. I struggled to breathe through my nose but thankfully I was just able to gulp breath through my mouth. Her pubic hair felt quite coarse through her knickers which by now were sodden with vaginal secretions. She pulled up her skirt and underslip and scratched her thigh just above her black stockings.
For an instant our eyes met as she mouthed, “Dirty boy,” disdainfully down at me and threw her skirt and petticoat casually over me again. Again I felt immobile in my confined underskirt prison. I could hear many voices around me and Marianne talking in an animated and lively way. I made out a lot of ‘ouis’ to various questions. In an instant Marianne lifted her skirt and eased herself off me. Would this be the end of my captivity? I hoped it would be.
I was mistaken. The rain outside seemed to match my mood. Danielle Lalonde explained to me that the girls were bored with the poor weather and that they were confined indoors. She told me that they wanted to play a game where I would be masturbated by two girls and the other girls would guess how quickly they could make me ‘come’ then they would swap around so that every girl had a turn at wanking me. Her English was delightful and my penis was already stirring at the thought of being milked by these nineteen year olds with their long cool fingers.
Swiftly Paulette Auclair knelt on the bottom of the bed behind me. She nudged my hair with her smooth black-stockinged knees and in an instant she had slid over me so that she was sitting on my face staring at my erection. She rearranged her pale blue nylon petticoat over me and dropped her pleated school skirt around me. Paulette’s odor was quite strong and I savoured the sweet intensity of being under her skirt again. Her bronzed thighs appeared very athletic as she knelt up and sat down again allowing me to study her pale blue cotton knickers more fully. They were decorated with tiny pink rosebuds and looked very ‘girly’. Down came her bottom again on my face as I felt my erection straining stiffly.
I became aware of another girl getting onto the bed and then kneeling between my open legs. I felt the roughness of her plaid pleats against my thighs as she began touching my stomach and inner thighs. I gathered from the conversation that the girls were deciding how long it would take for me to reach my climax.
“Cinq minutes et trente en second lieu, quatre minutes vingt secondes, Dix minutes exactement, quinze minutes et cinq secondes,” I heard them say. I do not know whether anyone was writing down these guesses but it seemed totally disorganised.
The milking began. Paulette knelt forward and began massaging my stomach and chest while Nadia Brun pulled and pushed my foreskin up and down, gradually building up the speed. Above me Paulette’s arse swayed around from side to side under her swishing lace-edged petticoat and tartan pleated school skirt. The sight of her twin cheeks swiveling and churning about drove me wild. I tried to lick them but they were just out of range. I just stared besotted and intoxicated by these amazing panty-clad globes. Her stockinged knees gripped my face as her movements became more and more ferocious. Meanwhile Nadia’s hands became more and more savage. I felt that she was almost hurting me. Paulette’s fingers were also on my penis and balls sac. Nadia’s hands must have appeared as a blur because she was wanking me so violently.
“Trois minutes,” only three minutes, I thought as the milking continued. Above me Paulette’s bottom wiggled and swayed. The pleats shook and flicked around me like a whirlwind. The aroma from between her legs told me that she was aroused.
“Cinq minutes,” someone said, giggling hysterically.
The girls shouted out encouragement to their two classmates who were, by now, wanking me mercilessly. I could take no more stimulation. I was on the ‘home-straight’. Every sense in my body had been triggered and primed and it was clearly just a matter of seconds.
I wildly bucked my lower body, and out flowed five warm thick strands of semen, in quick succession. I collapsed staring up Paulette’s skirt at the damp patch in her knickers. I was worn out and my testicles felt sore and completely drained.
Someone said that it had taken me seven minutes and ten seconds. I gather Marianne Martineau had guessed nearest. Paulette slid off me dragging her skirt hems across my face and neck as she did so. I looked down and saw my shriveled penis curled up in a pool of slime.
Immediately someone straddled me, this time staring down at my face. She knelt on my shoulders and pushed down on me, telling me that she was in charge. It was Jacqueline Lemieux. Her knickers were inches from my face. They were cream coloured with a delicate Calais lace hem in convoluted daisies. She lifted her skirt up and petticoat and pushed her hand inside her knickers and stared directly at me. She rubbed herself up and down her cleft as I lay there spellbound beneath her. She pushed down on me again.
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