Melody Smith's Schooldays
by Eve Adorer
Chapter 13 - Temptation Tempered
The pain-pleasure experience of my being broken on the bitch-wheel seared my
mind. I had become, without doubt I had become, more girl as a result of the
savage sexual beating I had been given. I was more feminine, more sexy, more
craving of the admiration of my fellow girls for my shear girlness.
Initially I felt broken in spirit, frightened like a fawn that my fellow girls
would feel contempt for me exhibited publicly as I had been, totally naked,
enduring a whipping till I openly orgasmed. The attitude of the girls who had
seen me dragged to the bitch-wheel and cheered and jeered not lifting a finger
to help me, had broken my spirit for a time. But, now I had thought long and
hard about it, I agreed with what they had done. If I had seen an incredibly
sexy girl being dragged to be whipped for my pleasure I knew I would have jeered
and cheered also. I had been given what I had needed to be given. I had been
given what I deserved to be given. I just had, just been given, just only my
just deserts.
I enjoyed; no, I loved being a cunt-tease. Dressing sexily so that my body was
displayed for the taunting delight of being seen but not allowable to touch,
satisfied a deep natural craving within me. I knew I was gifted with incredible
beauty facially and bodily. I was a three-dimensional living breathing work of
superlatively erotic art. Nature had given me physical gifts that the world had
a right to share. My face and my body made the world a better place for their
beauty.
My leggy-long-leggy-legged glide to school lessons each day had now become a
point of assembly for all the other girls in the school to witness. My long
blonde hair, growing down to the backs of my knees would catch the breeze which
would tangle it out behind me, as I wiggled along most often now in heelless
balletic booties that tiptoed me to display my long girlmuscular, slim, strong,
curvy-shapely, calf-muscular, dimple-kneed, compellingly thighed, orgasmically
erotically steepled leggy-legged-legs.
I would be skyscapered on the very tips of the tips of my big toes, so that the
hemispheres of my superb round spankable dimple-sided bottom, my smackybumbs,
would individually undulate eye-transifxingly as my hips swayed as I kicky-sexy
ballet-stepped along. I would be skyscapered so that my back curved to emphasise
the super-slimness of my waist. I would be skyscapered so that my wonderful soft
firm virgin's breasts, my lollipops, nude beneath my dress or blouse, would fill
my dress or blouse with their constantly mobile jiggling and joggling: these,
the most girl part of my girlness aside from the sweet sweating naked totally
bald shaven slot between my glorious thighs: my quim, my heaven-hole, my
girl-smile, my naughty.
I was the belle of the school. I was the School Slag. I wore the ring worn by
the succession of School Slags over the centuries. My cunt was shiny, always
fresh-shaven bald, nude, virginally naked, and never ever covered, so that its
supersensitivity to the soft breezes that blew in the open areas of the
schoolyard and sports field would blow over my girlity, reminding it and thus me
of my soft vulnerable exposedness and my constant instant availability to my
fellow girls.
For all the girls in the school, masturbation was strictly forbidden and
punishable upon discovery that the act had been performed by an individual upon
herself, by public punishment: a punishment in front of the whole school, staff
and pupils both. This was my role. This was my station in life. I was chosen by
the school to be the conduit for all the pent-up sexual frustrations among the
other teenage girls to save them from the evils of masturbation.
Their sexual relief was me. Given permission from the prefecture, my body could
be masturbated by them so that they could experience the giving of pleasure to
another girl. I must be, and indeed most decidedly was, the most attractive girl
in the school, because I would therefore become the centre and sole focus of the
other girls' fantasies. I was there to be the focus of the whole school's lust
and love and the relief for that lust.
If anything, after my bitch-wheel beating, my clothing, the clothing chosen for
the School Slag to wear, had become even sexier. It was my sexy clothing that
brought about a typical instance of my body being used.
As always that morning, the morning of the day of the incident I am about to
relate, the girls who loved to cheer me as I came out of my dorm to wiggle my
sexy way to the first class of the day were in for a stupendously pleasurable
treat.
My day had gone routinely. I had taken a three-mile run as part of the
compulsory programme of fitness maintenance that the Slag was under orders to
perform, and it had made me feel particularly randy. Looking back, I realise
that it was the week before my period. It was the week before the onset of
menstruation. It was the week I always felt very randy. I was horny; I was
feeling overwhelmingly horny. I was feeling overwhelmingly girl.
As I dressed for the day and to face the gauntlet of cheering leering admiring
girls who would wolf-whistle and "wow!" me to the start of my day, I realised
that my mistresses, the prefects who had charge over me, must have chosen what I
was to wear in full recognition of how very girl I was feeling. I slowly donned
the clothing laid out for me in the side room I occupied, the side room from the
prefects' dormitory.
My suspenders were crimson as were my stockings. My suspenders though, were
incredibly long as they needed to be, for the stockings I was to wear that day,
had tops that came only one-quarter way up my thigh. The sexy suspenders
therefore needed to stretch all the way down my three-quarter-bare soft firm
girlskin thighs, before they could be attached to my crimson stockings.
My garter, the one garter I must wear when I was in suspenders, the crimson huge
artificial-rose decorated garter I had been given to wear that day, I took up my
lovely left leg, till it neatly surrounded the top of my left stocking, just
one-quarter up my thigh.
My dress would be next. Crimson red, like all my clothing that day, I slid my
arms into its long sleeves which came down to and beyond my wrists, to half
cover my dainty hands. The material was figure-hugging velvet. And oh-girl did
it hug my figure! My huge 37 D-cup pert breasts were hugged-to-outline curvature
of superlative bountiful shapeliness ensuring there could be no doubt whatsoever
ever that I was indeed a girl.
The top of the dress finished in a long turtleneck-tube, so that the top of my
body, though hugged and therefore outlined to display its wonderful girlness,
was also demurely and chastely covered. But it was not the top of this dress
that was to excite and entice, though it would and did, so much as the bottom:
the hem. The hem of this dress was such as to make even the category
"micro-mini" obsolete and certainly inapplicable. The hem of this dress was so
short that it only just qualified the garment as a dress as opposed to a top.
The hem of this bright scarlet velvet figure-hugging sexy-body outlining and
girl confirming dress came absolutely no further than halfway down the cheeks of
my bottom.
The hem of this bright scarlet velvet figure-hugging sexy-body outlining and
girl confirming dress, the dress I was to wear that day all day, came absolutely
no further than halfway down the cheeks of my bottom and thus left my pretty
purse, my curvaceous cunt, my gorgeous girl-lips, my "nice naughty" as the
younger girls spoke of it, completely and openly exposed.
I was to walk around the school all day this very day with my cunt on open
display. I looked around to see if, after all, I had been issued with panties. I
wondered if perhaps some mistake had been made. I thought that maybe the dress
had been for one of the younger girls: one of the previous Slags not as tall as
I was at five-feet-eight. I thought too that I was at risk of insulting my
mistresses by wearing this day's clothing in some way not intended: in some way
incomplete.
I put on my scarlet heelless steel reinforced sole and toe-tips ballerina
permanent-tiptoeing shoes, the long crimson laces of which decorating my
compelling curvaceous legs to be tied off in bows just below my knees, and I was
ready. I had concluded that I was ready. I had concluded that I was in fact
fully dressed as intended. I had concluded that I was in fact fully half-dressed
as intended, and that I was indeed to heaven the day with the glory of the tight
infolding soft-skin of my very-tight, virgin-tight, naked-shaven, nude cunt on
completely open display.
This was it then. I was to walk out of the prefecture semi-naked with my most
girl part on open display: my magnificent minge. I could hardly wait. It must
seem strange to hear it, but I could hardly wait. I had a longing to tease and
please with my girlity: to entice attract frustrate with my beauty, my heaven
sent girlness. I was a cunt-tease. I enjoyed, no, I loved the thought of the
sight of me, my face and my body making the naughties of the other girls moisten
with desire for me.
I wiggled my feminine wonder through the prefecture in my tip-of-tiptoe
ballerinaising shoes, permanently-pirouetted long-leggily, my head held high
with the pride at my superlative girlness, ready to look the other girls in the
eyes as their eyes would eventually look up at me having first been compelled to
look between my thunderous thighs at my stunning cunty, my naughty, naughtily
exposed, with a look that said, 'what were you looking at?' and 'Oh of course,
isn't she beautiful?'
In the event though, I was disappointed as my totally exposed cunt completely
stunned the assembled girls initially. They were stunted to overwhelmed silence,
before the heaven of the lips between my legs, the proud lips of the pert purse
that made me girl: the lovely lips that made me girl, the luscious lips between
my lovely long lithe legs, caused them to break into awed applause and me to
blush deep scarlet, scarlet of a hue to match my velvet dress.
Come the morning break, and girls were all around me like flies swarming to warm
meat. I had been creaming in my randiness and my musk pervaded the air with its
heaven-sent-scent, attracting the whole school to ogle my dress, or perhaps my
undress, as I stood on my glorious legs with my oh so smackable bum half nude
and the pods of my powerful purse perfectly pert prominent promising proud
pretty petals proving my pulchritudinous perfection.
Smiling and laughingly polite as I blushingly thanked the thousandth
complimenter of my astonishing beauty, I noticed a group of some ten
fourteen-year olds waving a piece of paper.
"Please miss! Please miss! We've got a permit. We've got a permit miss. We want
to stroke you miss".
Way was made by the other girls to let the spokesgirl of these through to hand
me the paper she so eagerly waved in the air.
As I read it, though I dare not show it, my heart sank. It was the duty of the
School Slag to be available for the prefecture and staff at any time. She also
had to surrender to any other girl or group of girls in the school who obtained
the written permission of a member of staff or a prefect. One signature would
suffice. These girls had the one signature that mattered. That was what made my
heart sink. I must surrender my body to these girls for their pleasure: that was
heart-dropping, to be so humiliated was heart-dropping. What sank my heart fully
in an instant though was to see whom it was that had signed the permit. My
lover, Josephine, had been the prefect to condemn me to be ravished by these
young girls. My lover, Josephine, had betrayed me, and that hurt.
I put on my bravest face as I asked, "Where do you want me please?"
"In the toilets miss. We want you in the toilets miss", she giggled nervously.
There were loud moans of disappointment as I was taken by the hand by two of the
ten pretty fourteen-year-olds who had permission to use my body, and taken to
the nearest lavatories, where they wasted no time in making me stand facing the
wall before lifting off my bare bottom, such little of the hem of my dress as
made the slightest attempt to cover its glory.
"God, you have a lovely bum miss!" exclaimed one of the younger girls. Then she
bent over and kissed me. She bent over and kissed me in the deep dimple at the
side of my bottom caused by my skyscrapered leggy-legged tiptoed stance in my
ballerina shoes. My mouth opened with a stifled sigh of astonishment from my
pleasure at this worship of my delectable derriere.
And so it continued, as each of the ten girls took their individual turn to kiss
me gently on my bare bottom. And I became aroused. I became sexually aroused. I
became very sexually aroused. At the very first kiss on my rear I became very
sexually aroused, until at the tenth kiss of worship of my supreme girlness, I
turned my head and told all the girls, "Thank you".
"Please may we kiss you again miss?
I sighed sexily in surrender from my pleasure at the honour these girls were
placing upon me with their gentle young lips as each now worshipped my bummy,
covering my bummy half-moons, the particular half-moon it was their individual
delight to choose, with kiss after kiss after kiss after kiss after gentle kiss,
telling me over and over that my bum was the most beautiful bum in all the world
ever and then kissing it and kissing it and kissing it over and over and over
again and again and again.
"May we give your pretty bum a thousand-million kisses each please miss?
"Oh please, please do" I sighed as I melted with the eroticism of their worship
of my bottom.
Then a tongue licked me. Then a tongue licked my right bare bum cheek and I
gasped sexily sexually with astonishment and then the kisses were raining down
on my bottom once more over and over and over again the girls, all ten young
girls, took their turns to kiss my bare bottom. And it was so erotic. I was
finding their devoted worship of my bottom incredibly erotically arousing. And I
was seeping. I was seeping. I was oozing sweet honey from my love-lips. I was
on-heat, I was randy, I was horny, I was being worshipped with kisses on my
rear, and I was honeying and gasping for a cum.
All the while the ten girls continued to kiss my bum, turn and turn about, with
but the politest complaint if one girl felt she had missed her turn to adore me.
"Your bum is our goddess miss. We want to worship our goddess miss. We want to
kiss your bum for ever and ever!" cried the obviously sexually heated girl who
had been the one to pass me the signed permit, before she bent over and kissed
me passionately on my right bum cheek yet again.
And the kisses were now getting longer and more worshipful and more and more
sexually charged and passionate and my bum was being kissed with lips and
tongues. And then it happened for the first time. And then it happened for the
first time. Two girls were bent over kissing one each of my generous firm
bummy-halves when, as if planned and at a signal, as indeed it was, they began
to suck me, the girls, these extremely pretty fourteen-year-old girls began to
suck my bum.
I was gasping and squeaking with sexual heaven as my bum was sucked and sucked
hard. With lascivious sucking sounds slurping, the two girls seize-sucked my
lovely bum-flesh into their mouths and lash-licked the sucked-up firm salty
flesh nipped gently unbitingly between their teeth, side to side to taste me
with their tongues. They were sucking my bare bum to worship my bare bum. To
adore the beautiful flesh of my bare bum, they were sucking and tasting me. They
wanted only to suck my bum, to suck my bum in the most passionate of bum kisses.
They were bum worshippers and my bum was their heavenly goddess, and my bare
bummy was being adored absolutely unquestioningly adored by these girls who were
sucking my bum and licking and kissing my bum in complete worship of the most
beautiful thing they had ever seen in their young lives. And I was cumming. My
nectar was dripping on the inside of my legs such was the passion with which
they were worshipping my bum and such was the passion that the passionately
worshipful bum-sucking by these superbly pretty girls had aroused in me.
But I was not yet cum when my finger strayed to my slit. I was not yet cum when
my finger strayed to my slit. I was reaching a completely innocent right-hand
middle finger unthinkingly to my naughty, when the head-girl's voice barked out,
"Smith! You're masturbating!!"
............
How long the head girl had been behind me watching as, with my body facing the
wall of the lavatory, my bottom was kissed, and licked, and passionately sucked
I had no idea. I had no idea but I would have a long while to think about it.
I had been caught masturbating. I had not in fact been masturbating. But I had
been accused of masturbating. The head girl had accused me of masturbating and
that was one and the same as if I had in fact been masturbating.
Masturbation was the most heinous crime in the school rules. Masturbation would
be punished. Masturbation was totally and utterly forbidden the girls. That
masturbation would never ever be allowed was a promise made by the school to the
parents of pupils even to its discrete but prominent written mention in the
school prospectus. The phrases "unhealthy self-stimulation" and "unfortunate
solo practices" could only be read in one way. Parents bringing girls for
school-entry interviews would confirm that they were concerned that little Emma,
or whatever her name was, should not be allowed to indulge "M". In return, they
would be assured that the "naughtiness" was totally forbidden, and always very
severely cracked down upon whenever it reared its ugly head.
The instant after the supposed discovery of me loving myself, I found myself
being led by the head girl and the prefect Marion to the school gymnasium where
I knew I was going to be severely punished as an example to the whole school of
what happened to girls who could not resist touching their naughty parts.
Word soon got around the school that the lovely Melody Smith had been caught
masturbating and teachers, having checked with the head teacher the truth of
what was the case, formally announced to their classes, that a young lady had
been caught, "using her fingers inappropriately" and the school must assemble in
the gymnasium after dinner that evening to witness her being duly punished for
her completely unforgivable misdemeanour.
For me though, there would be no dinner. I was hanging in readiness for my
punishment. I was on the triangle and I was in agony.
On our reaching the gymnasium, I had been stripped naked other than for my
ballerinaising shoes. My long-blond hair, the gorgeous golden cascade that
shimmered down to the back of my knees when I stood, had been crudely gathered
up and fixed atop my head. I had then been lifted legs apart and deliberately
sat astride a triangular shaped horse: a punishment horse: a cunt paining horse:
a cunt punishment horse.
I was now, and had for an hour now sat, sitting with my beautiful long legs
stretched down either side of a triangle of wood the very pinnacle of which was
viciously painfully dividing the lips of my cunt. My wrists were tied at my neck
so that I could not ease myself. My feet, still in the pirouette shoes, were
tied to the bottom of the sides of the triangle and I was in the most horrendous
pain I had ever endured in my sixteen tender young years.
I was sitting on the super-sensitive inner lips of my girl-hole. I felt as if I
were being slowly inexorable split. My cunt lips were divided, brutally divided
by the completely unyielding unmercifully hard wood of the triangle's tip. I was
suffering the preliminary for one of the standard school punishments for a girl
caught masturbating.
I sat in my purgatory trying so hard not to scream out with the pain of my
delectable 120 pounds of gorgeous girlness pressing down on my opened cunt. Even
though my eyes were mostly closed, as I gasped and moaned with the horror of the
agony in my naughty, I watched as the gymnasium beam was being readied for a use
I was yet to discover and I became aware form the hubbub of girlish sopranos and
loud and hushed whispers that combined in a cacophonous chorus, that the school
was assembling to witness what a "wanker", as the girls would label that I was
accused of, got for her just deserts.
My pitiful cry of pain silenced the audience, but none of them, not even the ten
girls who had so lovingly adored my beautiful bottom just two hours since I had
been impaled on the triangle, not even they called out for me to be shown mercy.
The headmistress made a speech.
"We should all share the shame of Melody Smith", she began. "Melody brightened
our lives when she arrived here at the beginning of term. Melody lived up to her
name. A divinely pretty girl, even on the day of her arrival, even indeed before
she had spent her first full day at St Catherine's Academy, Melody was, as we
all recall, honoured by being chosen as the new School Slag. The post of School
Slag is an historical one. Our resident researcher has traced its origins back
well over more than four hundred of the five-hundred years that this Academy and
the nunnery it evolved from have existed. The School Slag is a source of
pleasure. She is given as a reward. Her body is available to us as a gift for
good conduct. She is an outlet for the animal desires that, so very
unfortunately, we are all subject to, especially when we are young. The School
Slag is instituted to assure that this academy is free of the terrible
debilitating practice of masturbation. It has been made clear to all of you
almost daily since your arrival here, that any girl caught masturbating will be
punished and punished very severely"
The headmistress paused for effect.
"Unfortunately, Melody has fallen by the wayside. This lovely girl of whom we
expect the highest example of sacrifice to others for their pleasure, even at
the foregoing of her own, was today witnessed by the head girl, touching herself
in the wickedest way. Nobody denies the right of the School Slag to attain the
ultimate pleasure god-given to a girl when she is having love made to her. But
nobody, and I mean nobody, not even the School Slag, is allowed to indulge the
weakness of self -delivery", She paused again.....
"......I have decided that Melody must be whipped. Melody will learn the hard
and painful way that she must never ever touch herself in a sexual way......"
At this point I found my feet being untethered and I was lifted off the
cunt-dividing triangle hollering out screams of pain as the blood rushed back
into the numbed region around my painful cunt and the super sensitive abundant
nerve-endings of and in my naughty agonised me unbearably.
Tiptoed still in my balletic shoes, I walked in brutal pain over to where the
parallel bars awaited me, tears glistening on my pretty face as I sobbed with
the throbbing in my girlhood, so long sat parted upon the pinnacle of the
unyielding triangle.
There I was arranged facing the wall with my hands apart touching, no, gripping
the bars with my long strong legs apart, and my trunk bending so that my pretty
purse, slightly opened by the wide gap between my legs, was fully displayed in
all its naked perfection.
The headmistress herself was going to punish me. For this purpose, she had in
her hand readied, a three-foot long, two-inch wide, quarter-inch thick heavy
leather strap.
"Melody Smith" she announced as she prepared herself. "You, Melody Smith, have
been caught masturbating. For that I am going to whip your cunt. You are going
to be given four lashes on your nude cunt. You will maintain your present
legs-apart stance to receive all four of your lashes. You will count out each
lash after it has been delivered and you will thank me for each lash after it
has been delivered. You will say after each lash, using the appropriate number:
'One lash. Thank you headmistress for delivering me from the evils of
masturbation', and so on, and so on, after each individual stroke. If at any
time you so much as twitch your legs toward bringing them together Melody, your
punishment will begin all over again. Do I make myself absolutely clear Melody"
"Yes headmistress." I sobbed.
"Before each stroke of your punishment is delivered", the headmistress
continued, "You are to kiss the whip with your mouth to thank it for saving you
from the evil of the devil".
The headmistress now proffered the strop-strap up to my pretty mouth and I
dutifully kissed it.
Then she took her place measuring her distance from my superlatively shapely
long lissom legs parted for the punishment of my purse, and I heard the whip
whistle up from below to slap me brutally on my girl-lips with a resounding
"THWICK!". And I screamed and screamed with the pain.
"Oh!!, oh!!, one, one, one, one stroke. Oh, oh, thank, thank, thank you, you
thank you headmistress for delivering me from the evils of masturbation", I
stammered.
I kept my grip on the beam and I kept my legs apart. How I kept my legs apart I
do not now know.
I was made to kiss the whip before my second lash.
A loud horrible whistle whisked the air and then a reverberating "THWICK!" and
my scream of pain as my cunt was slapped so hard that I leaped off my feet
momentarily and nearly doubled at my knees, gripping the bar with my lovely
hands being the only way I could save myself.
"Ahhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!! Oh please oh please it hurts it hurts so terribly
please...." I begged as I fought the all but overwhelming desire to comfort
myself by bringing my legs together.
The headmistress gave me a severe look and I recollected myself. "Two strokes.
Th' th' thank you headmistress for delivering me from the evils of
masturbation", I sobbed between my moans of severe pain.
As per my orders, I kissed the whip for the third time knowing full well what to
do so was preliminary to, and she whistled, the strop-strap whistled through the
air up between my parted thighs and "THWICK!!" she kissed me, the whip kissed me
on my naughty with her full power, and I hollered with agony as my slot was
slapped so seriously severely strongly that it stunned me.
"Oh god!!, oh god!!!! it hurts!! it hurts so very much!!!, please....."Three
strokes. Oh, oh, please, please, oh thank you headmistress for delivering me
from the evils of masturbation" I gasped.
I dutifully kissed the whip for a fourth time. The whistle and the "THWICK" were
louder and harder and I screeched out my excruciating pain as my sex lips were
slapped with the strop-strap.
....."Fourth stroke. Thank you headmistress for delivering me from the evils of
masturbation" I gabbled almost inaudibly whispering hoarsely, the pain from my
cunt being so horrendous that I could hardly speak
I had dutifully obediently kept my gorgeous tiptoed girlmuscular legs wide apart
and now I was biting my pretty lower lip as I was aware, only too aware of the
throbbing of my cunt; the throbbing in my cunt; the throbbing of and in my
freshly harshly whipped nude cunt.
And I was moistening. My honey was beginning to flow I was become girl-aroused.
My juices suddenly shot from my honey-pot and dripped to the floor between my
legs, my glorious legs still kept parted for absence of any permission for me to
draw them together. And I began to moan with my ever-heightening sexual arousal.
And I gasped with amazement as more honey dripped from my naughty as my high got
higher and I began to beg to be allowed to cum. I was wild wanton girl. I had
been whipped into being wild wanton girl. I was trickling girl-honey in
abundance to the floor between my parted legs and I was begging to be allowed to
cum. I needed to cum. I must cum. I screamed and begged inhumanly animally for a
cum. My clitoris throbbed and hardened so greatly that it hurt and its hurting
heightened my high and I begged and begged to be allowed to bring my legs
together so that I might cum. But no order came and no cum came, and I dribbled
copious cunt cream, crying in pleasure agony for the next half-hour with my
legs, my woman-wonderful legs wide parted in denial of my cum, in denial of the
cum I craved crazily crying, calling for my cunt to be cracked with the whip to
finish me. And in the full half-hour and more of receding fire as my naughty
dribbled her cream to add to the pool I had already long since formed on the
gymnasium floor, I was suffering my real punishment, the real and intended
punishment I should suffer as a sixteen-year-old schoolgirl caught masturbating.
I was suffering the agony of hypersexual frustration and cum denial.
