After her boarding school an 18yo is caught by her parents having sex with the wrong man so she is sent to a Swiss finishing school where, it turns out, the staff make full use of their authority over young girls in uniform.
After I left Rhodean at age 18 I spent some time back at home assessing my options. Unfortunately, one of my options was a boy of my own age called Nick. His family worked on our estate and, as kids, Nick and I used to play doctor together; he had held a candle for me but what he did with that candle is another story. It all went wrong when Mummy and Daddy came home too early one night and caught the two of us on the rug in front of the fire. Neither of us had a stitch on so there was no hope of explaining it away.
In the “inquest” afterwards Mummy kept saying, “But he works with the cows”. I think she would have been quite happy if I had been screwed silly by a rich boy. Anyway, I got sent to this Finishing School in the Swiss Alps to get my morals straightened out.
It was all sorted out by phone and email with me getting no say at all but what is a girl with no independent money to do? Mummy rode with me to ensure that I arrived. We flew to Zurich then took a train and a car met us at the station. It proved to be a large and rather forbidding building and we were escorted into an oak paneled office where Mummy did some financial and legal stuff with the Director and I felt like a ham sandwich at a Bar Mitzvah. At the end, Mummy kissed me and I was left alone with the Director who pressed a buzzer on his desk and a trim young secretary in a black dress came in to escort me to a dormitory where she instructed me to wait until called. There were a dozen beds but, this being mid-afternoon, nobody but me was present. My escort pointed out my bed.
So, I just sat there or wandered around looking at the room or stared out of the window at the grey quadrangle below. After a while, a middle aged lady in a blue nurse’s uniform came in and asked me to accompany her; she said she was taking me to my induction.
We chatted about nothing as we walked the corridors which smelt of institutional polish and we came to a combination of medical room and office. A man in well creased trousers and a white shirt rose from behind the desk to introduce himself as Mr. Kent, my housemaster. It turned out that the nurse was Matron and she asked me to remove all my jewelry which would be kept safe for me until I was released. She actually used the word “released” which sent my panic levels soaring. Mr. Kent said that some girls having more adornments than others could cause division and valuable items could go missing so it was best that they go into the safe.
I stood there feeling dehumanized as I shed my watch, earrings, bracelet, ring and watch and Matron took them from me and sealed them into a large envelope marked with my name. Then she, quite casually, asked me to undress. I looked at her and I stared pointedly at Kent. Matron told me not to be silly and she explained that, as my housemaster, Kent was completely trustworthy and he needed to know about the girls in his care.
People used to authority have this knack of jollying you along so that it is socially awkward to question them. They make you feel that it would be stupid and petty to make a fuss. I undid the belt around my dress and then undid the buttons down the front and placed the garment on a convenient chair. I kicked off my black, Bond Street shoes trying hard to forget that there was a man just a few feet away from me. My plain white waist slip was next and then my white, patterned tights. One voice in my head was telling me to point blank refuse to go any farther and the other was, in Mummy’s voice, telling me not to be a silly girl and to do as I was told.
While this internal debate was raging, my hands were unfastening my black lace bra and adding it to the pile and then sliding down my very scant black knickers and making certain that my back was to the man Kent.
Matron, in her “jolly hockey sticks” voice told to, “Just sit yourself on the edge of the table for me” and I sat on the examination table while she put her fingers inside my mouth and had a good poke around before sticking a thermometer under my tongue.
“Just lay on your back for me, there’s a dear.”
Still sucking the thermometer I swung my body onto the table and lay down with my legs together.
She brushed her hand across my dark little bush.
“I’m afraid we don’t have those here. A matter of hygiene you see.”
She had a bowl of water on the counter beside the bed along with a safety razor and she eased my legs apart and began to shave me. I couldn’t help glancing over at Kent who was unashamedly taking in my humiliation.
Matron didn’t stop until I was completely smooth and then she touched a switch so that the table hinged in the middle and my head and feet went downwards as my central section was pushed upwards. I yelped and Matron removed the thermometer which she read.
“This won’t take long my dear, almost done.”
As she spoke she pressed my thighs apart and began to work on my lips which she gently massaged to make them more pliable and then held me open as she stared into me.
“Not a virgin then. How many men have you had?”
I was blushing and my voice came out sort of cracked.
“Um..a couple.”
“And a couple is two? Or perhaps a bit more?”
“No. Just two.”
Her hands left my body and she went to a small pile of clothing which had been resting on the bench a bit further along from where I was.
“Just pop these on for me. We’ll issue you some spares from stores.”
I couldn’t believe it. Even at Rhodean, we hadn’t worn full school uniform past the age of 16 but this was the full, “First Year at Mallory Towers”.
But at least it was clothing so I quite gratefully got myself dressed in white knee socks, white cotton knickers, a simple white bra, pale pink blouse and grey pleated skirt. The shoes were flat black slip-ons. They must have got all my sizes from the form which Mummy had filled in back when she registered me.
As I dressed, Matron told me that our four houses were Curie, Thatcher, Ghandi and Elizabeth. I had been assigned to Curie which was also the name of my dorm. Matron looked at Kent who gave a little nod.
“I’ll just leave the two of you here for a while.”
And then I was alone with him. He placed a gentle hand on my shoulder which, in the circumstances, was downright creepy and he said we should go somewhere more comfortable. We went along the corridor to what proved to be his private quarters. He bade me sit down on a small sofa in a tiny, booklined sitting room and he poured two glasses of sherry then he sat beside me on the sofa. The sofa only had room for two and our hips were touching; there was just no room for me to edge away from him.
He was talking about St Katarina’s and saying that he hoped I would be happy during my stay here. He said that some girls find they “sort themselves out” quite quickly and don’t have to stay for very long which was terrifying as it implied that girls who fail to sort themselves out might stay for a long time. After a while, his arm went around my shoulder which meant that his head moved closer to my own and I could smell the sherry on his breath. He explained that, as my housemaster, it was his job to be available to help me with anything at all and he planted a chaste little kiss on my cheek.
My heart rate and temperature had shot up, not out of libido but due to anxiety. I had no idea how far this was going to go and I was all too aware of the massive power imbalance. He had now set his sherry glass down on a small table so he had both hands free and his hand reached over and rested on my leg then it began to slide upwards and under the hem of my skirt.
“You know we really do understand that a girl at the peak of her development has certain pressures and we want to help to release those pressures in a safe environment otherwise one could fall victim to men of the wrong class.”
That was when I finally found my voice.
“Look, thank you for the sherry but I would like to get back to my dorm. I don’t think we should…”
His hand was on my chin turning my face towards his and my words were cut off as his mouth covered my own. His tongue was briefly engaged with mine and then he pulled back so that he could speak; his tone was now just a little bit firmer.
“It is my job to get to know you and that is what I am doing. You really don’t want to make an enemy this early in your stay.”
Now that all pretense had been dropped the hand around my shoulder dropped to rest on my breast which pulled me against his body and the hand on my leg slid upwards to find the hem of the horrible white school pants. He kissed me again, deep and long, restricting my air supply and the hand at my underwear clawed at the garment pulling it down.
As I gasped for any air which I could grab between his suffocating kiss, I was making noises of complaint but the hand beneath my skirt had now made contact, skin to skin with my newly shaven pussy and was rubbing along my slit before beginning to intrude. My skirt had ridden up my hips and the hand at my breast was fumbling with the buttons on my blouse.
I was very moist, in fact I was soaking and I could smell my own juices. He hissed in my ear for me to unzip him and he pinched my labia hard enough to make my body jump as I emitted a scream. I wanted the pain to stop so I obeyed him and, at his urging, I took his erect shaft in my hand and began moving my hand up and down. Immediately, he squirted a gush of cum and my hand was covered as was his organ. He stopped pinching me and began to work on my lovebud. I could not help responding; I had 10,000 years of evolution working against me.
His hand left my breast (my blouse was now gaping open) and grabbed my hair pressing my head down towards his groin. His intent was obvious and my mouth closed over his shaft with his hand in my hair forcing my head up and down with the hand at my pussy pumping in and out causing me to make a lot of noise despite a mouth full of housemaster.
His erection did not last for long and the collapse was as sudden as the rise. His whole body sagged and he withdrew his hand from my pussy and dropped the other hand to rest on the bare, white skin just above my bra. But he was not done.
“I think we need to go next door.”
He stood up with his flaccid cock still hanging out of his trousers and, with his hand gripping my shoulder, he steered me into his bedroom and we sat side by side on the bed. He reminded me that the school joining instructions said that all girls should be on the birth pill, “To ensure regular periods.”
Kent briskly stripped off his shoes, trousers and underpants and, while doing so, he told me to unfasten the cuffs of my blouse and slip off my skirt so that it didn’t get creased. He was relying on the fact that our adventure on the sofa had worked me up to a point where it would have been quite difficult for me to apply the brakes.
As soon as we had both made the required clothing adjustments, he swept me down on the bed with him beside me so we were face to face. He told me to see if I could bring him once more to attention. Actually, he was semi hard already but slim and delicate 18 year old fingers had an electric effect on him and I found myself holding a rod of iron.
He unbuttoned the few remaining fastened buttons on my blouse and swept it off as briefly I removed my hands from his cock one at a time to enable this activity. We repeated the process with my bra and his hands made the very most of their unfettered access to my neat little boobs of which I am very proud. I would really hate to be encumbered by two great melons stuck to my front.
My housemaster now rolled on top of me and I slipped my pants down one leg by raising a knee so that I could reach the foot, so that they remained hanging on one ankle which soon shook them off.
I was fully juiced up and ready for him and he slid in easily with just enough discomfort to increase my sensation of being penetrated and he was soon pumping me vigorously as my lips and tongue explored his face. Completely of their own accord, my feet came up as my legs locked around his back pressing him even harder into me. He was definitely doing something which was way out of order but he was the best sex I had ever had. I guess experience tells and I suspected he had been at every member of Curie House. He knew exactly which spots to touch and how much pressure and friction to apply and he had me throwing my head back and wailing like a wolf at midnight.
Of course, nothing lasts forever even if it feels like it and I would have been up for a second round but he mumbled something about needing to be ready for tea. We showered together and soaped each other and then we both dressed and I was back to being a demure schoolgirl. I strongly suspected that the whole knee socks and short skirt was more important to him than I was but that did not detract from the fact that I had just been treated to an amazing fucking.
It was over tea in the dining room that I met my fellow inmates including those who were in my dorm. They were all around my own age and from a variety of countries. Maybe it was something about our uniforms but we all giggled like genuine schoolgirls especially because they made it very clear that they knew exactly what I had been doing with Mr. Kent who had escorted me to my table and introduced me.
As we ate they pointed out the staff to me and warned be about Miss Piggy, the games mistress who liked to watch girls getting changed and, given the slightest excuse, would make you exercise naked. They also pointed out The Headmaster who was old, fat and ugly and, I was warned, would at some time be getting into my pants. Of course I had already met Matron who, they said, really enjoyed her regular examinations of her girls when she made sure that we were hairless in the right place.
This was not what I had expected when Mummy and Daddy said that I had to come here but it seems that everyone comes here.