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.  


