Initiation of a Head Girl

From Uniform Girls 50 with Louise Wilshire

Gareth Renman, Headmaster of St Justin’s Grammar School, gave his rocking chair a reflective shove with his hand. It was a big chair with rather complicated whorls of heavy bamboo. He watched as it rocked easily to and fro. He was actually picturing it in a different mode. Upside-down and stationary. With a girl stretched spread-legged across the underside of the seat, her ankles held in the angles of the big runners. A Sixth Form girl, mature and very shapely, with a thick mane of ash-blonde hair. His new Head Girl in fact. Paula Minchell.

Yes, stunning Paula. On the chair, spread-legged and bent over. With her knickers down and her short pleated skirt right up over her back. So that the whole of her ripe bottom, the full twin moons, is on full display. And in this position of course it is not just those full moons on display but everything else as well. Paula’s pussy. She is showing, most reluctantly, the whole of that. But maybe just at this moment she is not so overly concerned, Paula’s mind is concentrated on something else. Because those ripe cheeks of her bottom are bright red. She is being strapped. And he of course, Gareth Renman, is doing the strapping. With his heavy leather tawse.

The Head gives the rocking chair another push, then walks away. He rubs briefly at the front of his smart grey trousers — where his penis has become semi-erect. He hasn’t done it yet of course. It is only a week into the autumn term, the beginning of Paula’s year as Head Girl. But he will. He always does, the last few years anyway. It has become his little tradition. A secret one naturally. Making the Head Girl get over his upturned chair. With her knickers down.

They don’t like it. Generally they hate it — and he can well imagine Paula being in that category — but that of course just makes it more enjoyable. More stimulating. And he can make them accept, that is something he has learnt. If you’re firm and insistent. Pointing out that though being Head Girl carries privileges there is also a down side. It’s a disciplinary measure. To prove she’s got discipline. Because if the Head Girl hasn’t got discipline, what can you expect of the others? Also it’s part of a special relationship. The Headmaster and his Head Girl. Like a secret bonding. That sometimes makes it a little better, when he gives them that line.

Paula won’t have any idea yet, because no one will have told her. The only persons who will know will be those other ex-Head Girls. They have now left, and anyway they wouldn’t tell. It’s not a thing any of them would want to reveal to a soul. No, lovely Paula won’t have any idea yet.

Paula is lovely. A very lovely girl with a marvellous body. Big tits and bottom, but all extremely shapely and firm. That is why Gareth Renman made her Head Girl of course. To get her over that chair. To add her to his list. Well he can’t go wild, he can’t have just anyone over his chair. Only Head Girls.

----//----

No, Paula doesn’t know about the rocking chair yet. She has never in fact seen the headmaster’s rocking chair. It is not at school, it is at Mr Renman’s house, in that room which contains the chair and not much else. Paula has been to Mr Renman’s house, once at the end of the last summer term, before she became Head Girl and again at the beginning of this term, but on neither occasion was she taken into the room with the rocking chair. But… Gareth Renman does not intend to wait much longer. He usually reckons to give a girl her introduction at about the end of the first month.

Paula has no means of knowing this. And anyway she has something else to worry about. She has just started a Saturday morning job with the local florists, Fenley’s. Last Saturday was her first day and Paula got rather a shock. Mr Fenley was the shock. Mr Fenley who is fact is about Mr Renman’s age, maybe 50, but fatter and also without that trimmed beard that Mr Renman has. More specifically it was Mr Fenley’s hands that were the shock. Feeling Paula up. Feeling up her bottom. And on one occasion, before she realised what he was doing… sliding up her skirt like a darting snake to briefly feel her pussy.

Feeling her bottom was bad enough, and Mr Fenley did it more than once. Just laughing when Paula jerked her bottom away in a shocked reaction, as if she had been stung by a bee. But when he did the other… his hand sliding all the way up her skirt at the front when Paula was reaching up to get something off the shelf… and suddenly was actually there, at her very special place… Cupping the bulge of Paula’s pussy through just her brief, thin knickers.

It was diabolical. Paula almost wet herself! Stumbling away, her disbelieving voice gasping, ‘Don’t… Don’t you… Don’t you do that!!’

‘Only a joke!’ Mr Fenley said, laughing again. A joke! Getting his hand on her pussy! She was shaking, almost crying, with the shock of it. Still able to feel his hand there. A hot, electric feel on that most sensitive, private place. She stuttered again, ‘D…D…Don’t!’

What she wanted to say was that she would report him. Tell somebody. Threaten it at least. That or say she was leaving, she wasn’t going to come any more on Saturdays. Not after the bottom feeling and now on top of it this. But there was a problem with doing either of those things. Mr Fenley was a governor of St Justin’s School. That was how Paula had got the job. It was in fact Mr Fenley who had suggested she might like a Saturday job. Now the awful thought came to Paula that he might have suggested it just for that reason, to get his hands on her body.

And she couldn’t really threaten to tell someone or say she was leaving. The Headmaster himself had spelled out the position, when he learnt she was getting the job. Pointing out that Mr Fenley was a governor and she was now Head Girl, and therefore she would have to make sure there were no problems, that Mr Fenley was completely satisfied and happy with her. Mr Renman had said, ‘But I’m sure there won’t be any problems.’

Mr Renman couldn’t have known what Mr Fenley was like, could he? Paula didn’t think so, but equally she was going to have to speak to the Head. Ask him what she could do. Because if she couldn’t leave the job she was going to have to come back next week — for more of the same! And the next, and the next.

----//----

Gareth Renman did know what Roland Fenley was like. Girls from St Justin’s had been given jobs at Fenley’s before and had voiced complaints. His response had been to play it down — it wasn’t really anything to get excited about, was it? He was sure Mr Fenley didn’t mean anything by it, he was just having a bit of fun. The bottom line of course was that they had to take it, Roland Fenley was a school governor.

And yes, he was expecting the same sort of complaint from Paula, because without doubt Fenley would be trying his tricks on with her. Definitely a bit of groping, and he imagined she would be distressed. The Head was in fact looking forward to a complaint. It would enable him to show sympathy, and in the process get on more intimate terms with the lovely girl. And maybe also… get in a few preliminary feels himself. Before the main event of the rocking chair, which had to come pretty soon now.

Paula does duly come with her complaint. Mr Fenley has behaved dreadfully. He is just an awful Dirty Old Man. In the privacy of his office Gareth Renman tut-tuts. He slides his arm sympathetically round the gorgeous girl’s waist, and inquires exactly what the dreadful man has done.

It seems Mr Fenley has got his hand on her bottom. And not just the once, so there can be no question of it being merely accidental. Mr Renman, with more sympathetic sounds, allows his own hand so slip down onto the sweet girl’s ripely swelling hip. And anything else?

Yes, it seemed there was. Paula, in some confusion, is made to give a reasonably clear indication of where Mr Fenley’s hand has also gone.

‘You mean he felt you between your legs? Mr Fenley felt your pussy in other words?’

Hot-faced Paula has no wish to be so basic and specific but yes, that was what Mr Fenley did.

‘Your… ah… cunt?’ Mr Renman persists, relishing the use of the stronger word. Paula’s evident embarrassment is arousing, as is having his hands on her. The Head can feel his penis stiffening in a pleasurable way. Stiffening with the basic desire to go into her, to penetrate that part which Roland Fenley had briefly got his hand on. Not that Gareth Renman has any thought of actually satisfying that desire. But there are other, less basic satisfactions that can be enjoyed. He turns her, so that Paula’s back is towards him. Pulling her in close, so that his stiff penis is hard against her soft bottom.

Yes other splendid attractions. There are Paula’s marvellous tits for one thing (two things, and lovely big ones, perhaps more accurately). Has Fenley left them alone on that first Saturday in his shop? While going for her bottom and cunt. The head inquires… while at the same time bringing his hands round. To cup them. Paula gives a shocked squeal — but the Headmaster’s hands remain in place. Gently squeezing her big boobs in a way that makes her head spin.

She manages to stutter out a negative to his repeated query. Mr Renman keeps his grip on her soft but firm boobs.

‘Well I’m afraid Mr Fenley is a bit like that Paula. I’m afraid it is something you’ll have to accept. And as for having your… ah… cunt felt… well, it is something a girl can get used to. Some girls, I know, quite like it …’

Paula gives another alarmed yelp. One of Mr Renman’s hands has slid down in front. It has thereby let go of one of her boobs — but it is pulling up the front of her short skirt. He yanks it up round her waist… and then his other hand drops down. To take hold of the firm bulge of her pubis in the tight and brief white nylon knickers. She gives a shuddery yelp. Mr Renman’s fingers are pushed in between her legs. His hand is cupping her quivery cunt.

Automatically she tries to struggle free, but Mr Renman doesn’t let go. His voice in her ear tells her sharply to keep still.

‘Just relax. I’m only feeling it. So that next Saturday if Mr Fenley does try it again… you’ll be more prepared. Open your legs a bit…’

That is the last thing Paula wants to do. This is absolutely dreadful! But… it is the Headmaster. So what can she do! Paula’s thighs reluctantly slide apart… to allow Mr Renman’s fingers freedom to push further in. Along the line of her slit… His fingers rubbing along it through just the thin material of her diaphanous nylon knickers. The headmaster’s fingers are stroking the lips of her cunt! It is not possible — but it is happening. Paula feels giddy. Faint. Sick perhaps. And her legs are going to collapse.

‘How does that feel? Nice? Getting to you? It is, isn’t it? And next time when Mr Fenley wants to do it… you’ll be able to just let him. Slide your legs apart… and let his hand go up…’

----//----

Mr Fenley was just as bad the next Saturday. Because there was no getting out of it, Paula had to go, wearing a smart blouse and skirt as before. She would at least have worn jeans or trousers, which would have given her some protection, but Mr Fenley had been very specific; it had to be a smart blouse and a not-too-tight skirt he had said. The skirt not too tight so that he could get his hand up it of course. As he did straightaway when he got her in the back room. His hand up her skirt at Paula’s quivery bottom. And then her pussy. His hand sliding in between her legs to feel her cunt.

She felt like bursting into tears. She had tried telling herself it might not happen. Maybe after that first time, well, it was possible Mr Fenley might have lost interest. And also there was another girl assistant and maybe… Mr Fenley might just concentrate on her, although that wasn’t really a very nice thought. But no, here he was doing it just as soon as Paula was through the door. Saying he wanted her out in the back room, and then right away… his hand up there.

But she couldn’t start crying. The Head Girl at St Justin’s couldn’t start crying just because one of the school governors had his hand up her skirt. She had to act as if nothing untoward was happening. Produce a little submissive smile perhaps, to indicate she was agreeable to anything the school governor might wish to do. A little submissive smile… and ease her legs apart. So there was no hindrance to Mr Fenley’s pleasures.

That was just the start. It went on all the morning. He did it to the other girl as well, but it was Paula Mr Fenley was concentrating his efforts on. The other girl had been working there for a month — so maybe in a month’s time it would be easier on Paula. But right now… it seemed Mr Fenley’s hand was up Paula’s skirt all morning!

----//----

‘How was it on Saturday? OK?’ Mr Renman asked at school on Monday. Paula gave an unhappy shake of her head. ‘It… it was awful. Really I…I…’

‘But you were sensible and didn’t complain?’

Paula said a distraught ‘Yes sir.’ Thinking of all the other Saturdays stretching out ahead of her. And thinking also of what the Head had done last time the matter had been discussed. He had been quite as bad as Mr Fenley.

Was Mr Renman also remembering that? Because now he said, ‘Good. Actually I need to see you again Paula. For another little… ahh… chat. Not now as I’m busy, but after school. We can go round to my house then and have a nice cosy… mmm… chat. I’ll give you a lift. OK?’

What is it about? What is Paula to expect? She has no idea. Possibly Mr Renman wants to talk about something to do with the running of the school. Something he needs to discuss with his head Girl. They had a talk like that right at the beginning of term, although that was in the Head’s office at school. Not here at his house. Mr Renman’s wife is out it seems so there are just the two of them in the house. Is that scary? Remembering what Mr Renman did that other time when Paula went to complain about Mr Fenley. That mind-zapping business of yanking up her skirt and feeling her between her legs, just like Mr Fenley has been doing. But Paula tells herself it won’t be any of that. It’s going to be talking about the school. A Head Girl’s duties. Yes.

‘Would you like a cup of tea?’ Mr Renman asks. ‘And then there’s something I need to discuss with you. Discuss and then do. It’s something I always do with my Head Girl. Something to cement the relationship. Bonding. Well it’s something I do to her. And she accepts it. Submits to it. Rather in the way that you are submitting to Mr Fenley on Saturdays. Submitting to having his hand up between your legs, eh?’

Paula, sitting somewhat tentatively on the settee in Mr Renman’s sitting room, goes red in the face. She isn’t sure what the Head is talking about, but that reference to Mr Fenley is enough to bring the bright colour to her cheeks.

‘A strapping,’ Mr Renman says in an even, unemotional voice. ‘I give her a strapping on her bare bottom. With my leather tawse. I make it hurt of course. It’s got to hurt, to really sting. But there’s also the submission aspect. Showing herself. I have her bent over in a position that shows everything. Everything a nice girl likes to keep modestly hidden. Her pussy I mean. Her cunt. It has to be on full display.’

What is Mr Renman saying! He can’t be saying this! The strap! On her bare bottom!

But the Head is saying it. To make this quite clear he is happy to repeat his statement, with some elaboration. It seems Mr Renman has a big old bamboo rocking chair in another room. it is this rocking chair, turned upside-down, that he habitually uses to strap his Head Girls’ bare bottoms. the rocking chair forming a kind of sacrificial alter.

And now, as Paula has indicated she doesn’t want a cup of tea first, they may as well proceed into this other room. The rocking chair room. To commence this time-honoured ritual.

‘No, please…!’ Paula shaking her head in wild supplication. He can’t mean this! But of course Mr Renman does. He hauls Paula to her feet. And then helps himself to a nice feel of her big tits.

‘Come on, Paula dear. As I say it is very much part of your initiation ritual. A girl is not properly Head Girl at St Justin’s until she’s had it. But don’t worry, it’s all very strictly private and confidential.’

Naturally! If it were not Gareth Renman would be in decidedly hot water. Not everyone would approve of his Initiation Ritual. If the tabloid press got to hear of it…

But they won’t of course. Because who is going to tell them? Not Paula certainly. Oh no.

Here it is. The rocking chair. In this room at the rear of the house which the Head has briskly conducted Paula to, his hand helpfully at her bottom. The rocking chair is already in position for its initiating role. That is, it is turned forward onto its front. So that its broad back forms a horizontal platform on which a girl can be spread for her initiation.

‘We’ll have a few preliminary strokes with you just standing on the floor,’ the Head tells her. ‘Standing bending over and touching your toes. With your knickers down of course and your skirt up over your back. OK?’

Mr Renman now has this dreadful looking leather strap in his hand. He slices it down with a pistol-like crack! across the chair back. ‘Come on. Look sharp! Get your knickers down please.’

Can this really be happening! It is more like some awful nightmare. It is a nightmare — but a real-live one. Because it is happening. Paula having to slide her hands up under the short pleated grey skirt to her knickers. And take them down. Under the keen gaze of Mr Renman. Her brief white nylon knickers coming down her rounded thighs, to about knee height.

‘Good!’ Mr Renman in close. His hand under the short skirt at Paula’s now bare bottom. His hand at her warm bare flesh taking her breath away. But in just minutes — seconds even — there will be something that will take her breath away much more effectively and efficiently than Mr Renman’s hand. Yes. That strap!

She desperately shakes her head. Pleading with Mr Renman. Well, is there no way of avoiding this truly impossible initiation? No way? Because anything else would be better than that strap.

Mr Renman seems interested in this. With his hand still at Paula’s silky bare bottom. What might she have in mind exactly? She shakes her head again. Nothing… Anything… She can’t really think. Mr Renman says she has to have the initiation, it is required for all his Head Girls. The full initiation. Her bare bottom strapped as she stands bending over. Then kneeling on the floor. And finally up on the back of the rocking chair.

That is the established ritual. However…

However although that is the required initiation, there are what you might call different degrees. There is a minimum number of strokes to be received in each position and a maximum number. There is a degree of flexibility in other words. It is up to the Head to determine exactly what he doles out. So… well, they might want to discuss that later. After Paula has received the necessary minimum. Yes? Does Paula get the picture?

Does she? Does she a quarter of an hour later or so, when she has had her required minimum? Finishing up spread-legged on the back of the rocking chair with those wide bright-red stripes on her bottom. Does Paula get the picture? She has had the minimum, and there can be all of that again. All of it twice over again, that is the maximum. Or of course no more. No more of the strap at least. But maybe… something else.

Mr Renman is saying something in her ear, as he strokes her hot bottom. As his hand slides in between her spread legs. Whispering in her ear. Making the options a bit clearer.