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Amongst the many girls who attended the Great
Shirley
School
was one who was known by the name of Cassandra Weldon. She was rapidly
approaching the proud position of head girl in the school. She had
entered the Shirley School
when quite a little child, had gone steadily up through the different
classes and the various removes, until she found herself nearly at the
head of the sixth form. She was about to try for a six thousand pound
scholarship, renewable for three years; if she got it she would go to
Holloway College, and eventually support herself and her mother. Mrs.
Weldon was the widow of a man who in his time had been a very
successful business-man and she herself had been a teacher long ago in
the Great Shirley School. Cassandra and her mother, therefore, were
from the very first surrounded by scholarship; they belonged, so to
speak, to the scholastic world.
Mrs. Weldon could scarcely talk of anything
else. Evening after evening she would question her daughter eagerly
with regard to this accomplishment and the other, to this change or
that, to this chance which Cassandra might have and to the other. The
girl was extremely clever, with a sort of all-round talent which was
most remarkable; for in addition to many excellent accomplishments, she
was distinctly musical. Her musical talent very nearly amounted to
genius. If in the future she could not play in public, she resolved at
least to earn her living as a music teacher. Mrs. Weldon hoped that
Cassandra would do more than this; and, to tell the truth, the girl
shared her mother's dreams. Besides music, she had worked very hard at
botany, at French and German, and at English literature. She would be
seventeen on her next birthday, and it was against the rules for any
girl to remain at the Great Shirley School
after that time. Cassandra had, however, two more terms of school-life
before her, and these terms she regarded as the most valuable of her
whole education.
 In
appearance Cassandra was a tall, well-made girl, graceful in her
movements, and very self-possessed in manner. Her face was full of
intelligence, but was rather plain than otherwise, for her mouth was
too wide and her nose the reverse of classical. She had bright
intelligent brown eyes, however, a nice voice, and a pleasant way.
Cassandra was looked up to by all her fellow-students, and this not
because she was rich, nor because she was beautiful, but simply because
she gave good tongue; she was always free with her pussy for nearly
every one, her anus was nice and tight, and she never perspired too
much.
Now
Cassandra, who had many friends in the school, had amongst them, of
course, her greatest friend. This girl was called Florence Archer. Florence
was pretty and clever, but she had neither Cassandra's depth nor power
of intellect. She was naturally vain and frivolous, except in the
presence of her dearest friend. She was easily influenced by others,
and it was her habit to follow the one who gave her the last advice.
Her passionate love for Cassandra was perhaps her best and strongest
quality; but of late she had exhibited a sense of almost unwarrantable
jealousy when any other girl showed a preference for her special
friend. Florence
was a very nice girl, but jealousy was her bane. She thought a good
deal of herself, for her father was a rich man, and only took advantage
of the Great Shirley education because it was incomparably the best in
the place. There was no rule against any one attending the school, and
he had long ago secured a niche in it for his favourite daughter. Florence
loved it and hated it at the same time. She was fond of her own
companions, but she could not bear the foundation girls. These girls
made a large percentage in the school. In all respects they were
supposed to be Florence's
equals, but as a matter of fact they were kept in a very subordinate
position by the paying girls. On every possible occasion they were
avoided, and there must be something very special about any one of them
if she was taken up by the aristocrats - as they termed themselves - of the
school. A sport the fee-paying girls enjoyed was to urinate on the
naked bodies of the foundationers, confident that the girls would not
complain and in the absence of clothing have no additional laundry. Florence
was one of those most enthusiastic in this sport, doing so on one
unfortunate or another at least once a day, whilst the teachers kept
both eyes and nose averted.
But
Cassandra as a rule was perfectly sweet and pleasant to the foundation
girls, and this trait in her friend's character annoyed Florence
more than anything else.
From the
corner of her eye Cassandra saw Florence stand and walk towards her She
then stood astride her tummy, crouched down and before she knew what
was happening started to piss onto her. Cassandra was instantly
shocked, as was Arabella, one of the foundationers, but at the same
time immensely turned on by the dirtiness of it. Cassandra could say
nothing, nearing an orgasm she simply lay there and let her shower her.
Arabella
obviously liked Florence's contribution saying, 'Oh yes, Florence, go
on, piss all over her little girl.'
Another
older girl, Rachelle was only paying attention other to her own
pleasure. She certainly didn't seem to be listening or to have realised
what Florence was doing. Only when she too felt the splashes of
Florence's piss on her back did she turn to see what was happening.
Realising she was not at all sure about Florence urinating, I grabbed
hard of Rachelle's thighs and held her in position over her face. As
Cassandra continued to lick her pussy Florence now started to piss down
Rachelle's back and onto her shoulders which let the warm stream flow
down over her breasts and tummy and onto her face.
It was
fantastic fun. Cassandra came to the most sensuous orgasm she had had
for a long, long time and felt Rachelle shaking as she too peaked.
Florence
stepped away for a moment as Arabella, Cassandra and Rachelle regained
their composure
Arabella
immediately spoke to Florence, 'You surprised me there Florence. I
really didn't expect you to be so much into watersports.'
'Sorry
girls!' said Florence, 'I just got so carried away by seeing you all
together like that. It was so naughty and when I get really turned on
I've always had a keenness for a bit of pissing fun. I'm really sorry
if I've upset you.'
Cassandra
spoke up, 'Florence, as far as I'm concerned you can piss on me
anytime' she said with a smile, 'It felt really good but now it's your
turn. Come on me and Rachelle' Cassandra added as she stood and gently
laid Florence down on the playground.
'Bring
yourself off again Florence', Cassandra said and she, Arabella and
Rachelle stood around her and each of them, held themselves open and
started to empty their own bladders on Florence. She went wild as the
piss drenched her, finger fucking herself in her cunt and arse at the
same time. Bucking wildly and, as we had now come to expect, shouting
the most disgusting things imaginable. Florence really was a very dirty
girl.
On the
morning after Ruth Craven had been admitted to the school Cassandra was
one of the first arrivals. She was standing in the wide courtyard
waiting for the school doors to be opened. She looked, as usual, bright
and capable. A stream of girls were surrounding her, each smiling and
trying to draw her attention. Cassandra was a girl of few words, and
after nodding to her companions, she gave them to understand that she
did not intend to enter into any special conversation. Her neat satchel
of school-books was slung on her arm. She wore flat sandals and her
white sailor-hat looked correct and pretty on her shining brown hair.
Cassandra, with her face beaming as the sun, made a sort of figure-head
for the smaller girls. Presently three foundation girls entered the
gates side by side and glanced up at her. This trio formed perhaps the
most objectionable set in the school. One was
called Kate Rourke; she was a girl of fifteen years of age, showy, with
flashing eyes. Hanging on Kate's arm might have been seen Hannah
Johnson, in all respects that young lady's double. Clara Sawyer, a
fair-haired little girl about fourteen, with a heavy fringe right down
to her eyebrows, completed the trio. They glanced at Cassandra, and
then nodded to one another and joked and laughed. 'I have no doubt,'
said Kate, 'that Cassie will take her up. '
She said the
word 'Cassie' in a loud voice. Cassandra heard her, but she took not
the slightest notice. 'She is safe to,' continued Kate. 'Now, such a
girl oughtn't to be on the foundation at all. If you only knew the
snubbing she gave me yesterday. I quite hate her, with all her pretty
face and her mincing ways.'
'Never
mind, Kitty,' said Hannah Johnson. 'She may snub you as much as she
likes, but you have got me to cling on to.'
'And you've
got me, too, Kitty,' said Clara Sawyer. She snuggled close up to Kate
and slipped her hand through her arm.
'Nasty
thing!' said Hannah. 'I feel every word you say, Kate. Do you know, I
offered to walk home with her yesterday, and she said, 'No, I thank
you; I prefer to walk home alone.''
As Hannah
made this speech she adopted the mincing tones which she supposed Ruth
Craven had used. The two other girls burst out laughing. 'Oh, do say
what you are laughing about!' said another girl, running up to the
group at this moment. Her name was Rosy Myers. 'You always have a joke
among you three, and I want to share it. Do say - do say! I've got a lot
of toffee in my pocket.'
'Hand it
out, Rosy, and perhaps we'll tell you,' said Kate.
Rose
produced a packet of sticky sweetmeat, and a moment later the four were
sucking peppermint toffee and making themselves thoroughly
objectionable to their neighbours. 'But what about the girl - the person
you are laughing about?' asked Rose.
'Oh, it's
that stupid, tiresome Ruth Craven,' answered Hannah. 'Why, she's
nobody. The governors and the mistress ought not to allow such a girl
in the school. It's all very well to be on the foundation, but there
are limits. Why, her old grandfather kept nothing better than a
huckster's shop. It doesn't seem right that a girl of that sort should
belong to this school, and then take airs.'
'But the
question is,' said Cassandra suddenly, 'does she take airs?' The girls
all stopped talking, and gazed up at Cassandra with astonishment in
their faces.
'I have
overheard you,' said Miss Weldon calmly. 'I presume you are alluding to
Miss Craven?'
'I heard of her yesterday, but have not had an
opportunity to form any estimate of her character,' continued
Cassandra. 'I should prefer that you did not call me Cassie, if you
please, Kate. I will watch her and find out if I agree with you. I only
noticed yesterday that she is remarkably pretty. I will ask her to walk
home with me to-day and have tea. I should like to introduce her to
mother.'
'Well, I
never!' said Hannah. 'And you really
mean that you would introduce that girl to Mrs. Weldon?'
'I think so.
Yes, I am almost certain. Here she
comes. I like her face. Don't let her hear you giggling, please, Kate;
it is very unkind to make a new girl feel uncomfortable.'
Kate
smothered a laugh and turned away. The
doors of the school were now thrown open, and the girls disappeared by
their special entrances.
It was just
at that moment that Ruth with her
sweet and most beautiful face, joined the group of girls who were going
into the school. She was without a companion. The other girls went in
by twos, each clinging to her special crony. Cassandra now changed her
position, and found herself within a yard or two of Ruth Craven. She
was examining Ruth with great care, but not at all from the unkind
point of view; hers was a sympathetic aspect. Those perky nipples made
something come up in Cassandra's throat, and she longed beyond words to
run her tongue over them. Ruth's buttocks were also much to be desired,
but she was tanned by prolonged exposure to the sun which had burnt her
skin in places to a dull brown. But, notwithstanding the breast and the
buttocks, there was the face. The face was most lovely, and the small
of her back was covered by hair as black as jet, and curling and
rippling in the sunshine.
'What
wouldn't every other girl in the school
give to have such a face as that, and such hair as that?' thought
Cassandra. 'I must speak to her.'
She was just
bending forward, meaning to touch
Ruth on her shoulder, when there came a commotion near the entrance,
and the excited face of Cheryl came into view. Cheryl was accompanied
by a tall, showy American girl. The girl had a very vivid colour in her
cheeks, intensely bright and roguish dark-blue eyes, black hair which
was a mass of waves and tendrils and fluffiness, and on which a little
dark-blue velvet cap was placed.
'I am not
going to be shy,' cried the new-comer
in a hearty, clear, loud voice. 'Leave off clutching me by the arm,
Cheryl, my honey, for see my new companions I will. Ah, what a crowd of
girls! - nymphettes we call them in America.
Oh, glory! how am I ever to get the names of half of them round my
tongue? Ah, and isn't that one a beauty?'
'Hush,
Jenny - do hush!' said Cheryl. 'They will
hear you.'
'And what do
I care if they do, darling? It
doesn't matter to me. I mean to talk to that girl; she's won my heart
entirely.'
Before
Cheryl could prevent her, the American
girl had sprung forward, pushed a couple of Great Shirley girls out of
their places, and had taken Ruth Craven by the arm.
'It's a kiss
I'm going to give you, my beauty,'
she said. 'Oh, it's right glad I am to see you! My name is Jenny
Weinburg, and I hail from America.
Ah, though! it's lonely I'm likely to be, isn't it, deary? You don't
deny me the pleasure of your society when I tell you that in all this
vast crowd I stand solitary - solitary but for her; and, Gosh! I'm not
certain that I take to her at all. Let me kiss you, sweetest.'
A titter was
heard from the surrounding girls
as Jenny pressed her lips against Ruth's and her tongue probed her
teeth. Ruth turned very red, then she looked into Jenny's eyes.
'You mean
kindly,' she said, 'but perhaps you
had better not. You, too, are a stranger.'
'Are you a
stranger?' asked Jenny. 'Then that
clinches the matter. Ah, yes; it's lonely I am. I have come from my
dear mountain home to be civilised; but civilisation will never suit
Jenny Weinburg. She isn't meant to have it. She's meant to dance on the
tops of the mountains, and to gather flowers in the valleys. She's made
to dance and joke and laugh, and to have a gay time. Ah! my people at
home made a fine mistake when they sent me to be civilised. But I like
you, honey. I like the shape of your face, and the way you are made,
and the wonderful look in your eyes when you glance round at me. It is
you and me will be the finest of friends, shan't we?'
 'I
guess she's horny alright!' Jenny called out
to the silent watchers, and there was a low rumble of laughter, not
loud, just loud enough to be heard by everyone. Keeping Ruth's lips
spread with her other hand, her hand held vertically; she pointed her
fingers towards her cunt, and started to push inside her. Ruth shifted
as she did, giving her better access, longing for her hand to be inside
her, to be filled. There's a certain je ne se quois about being filled
there, once experienced, you're constantly looking for it again.
Jenny paused, the first inch or so of her
fingers inside Ruth, and wriggled her fingers. 'You like, my horny lil
slut?' Ruth moaned, nodding, not able to take her eyes off her gorgeous
lover. The fact that others were watching was becoming increasingly
irrelevant: all there was in the world was her cunt and her lover, and
that itch. That need. She grinned up at Ruth, and blew a kiss to her,
mouthing, 'I love you.' That was meant for Ruth, and Ruth alone. Her
heart sang, and she relaxed, trusting in her, letting go of her
nervousness. She began to push once more, her lubed fingers sliding
easily within her, feeling her pussy beginning to stretch a little from
its normal state as all four fingers entered her.
Ruth held
her gaze as she pushed in further,
her eyes boring into hers. She twisted her hand a little, Ruth gasped,
her muscles clamping down on her momentarily, before she pushed inwards
and upwards again. Her thumb tucked into her palm, Ruth knew from prior
experience that she was about to be stretched, a lot, and her head sank
back, her eyes closing, breathing out as her pussy accepted the
knuckles, the thumb pad, her fingers curling over themselves inside her
to form the fist, until the entrance to her pussy closed over her wrist.
She stopped,
and whispered, 'I'm in, lover.'
And Ruth lifted her head to look at her, look between her legs, to see
that most intimate of connections, and Ruth nodded, unable to speak.
Ruth couldn't believe it. No matter how many
times she fisted her, no matter how many times Ruth saw it, both with
herself, with her, with other girls, Ruth still could never believe it
- that it was possible to get an entire hand within a woman's
pussy. Ruth slid her hand
between her legs, needing to touch her wrist to make it real. Oh, but
damn, it was real, alright. Ruth squeezed her muscles around her,
feeling the skin contract under her hand, and Ruth couldn't resist but
move up to her clit to rub that snug lil button, but Jenny batted her
hand away.
'Uh-huh,
that's for me! Greedy thing!' she
exclaimed, and there was another low rumble of laughter. Ruth smiled,
blew a kiss back to her, then lay back, closing her eyes, wanting to
simply experience what was happening, without visual input, wanting
just to feel.
 Jenny
shifted, laying her spare hand on her
tummy, just above the pelvic bone, then twisted the hand that was
inside her. Her knuckles grazed over her g-spot, and Ruth moaned, her
arousal rapidly increasing. She pulled out a little, keeping her fist
as a fist, and Ruth stretched, the stretching linked to muscle, to
blood, to her clit, to her body to... to... everything, and then her
fist
thumped back into Ruth. She pulled out again,
further this time, slowly increasing the distance each time, her pussy
stretching with each pull, till she was punch fucking her, her head
thrown back, enduring and riding each crest, getting higher and higher.
Her other
hand slid down a little to rub her
clit, momentarily, then disappeared completely, the hand within her
unfurling and sliding out a little, so her fingers were held straight,
no longer a fist. This was new. Ruth looked up at her, puzzled, and she
whispered, 'Trust me.'
Ruth did,
Ruth really did. Her other hand, the
fingers also held straight, slid inside her, so her hands met, like she
was praying, and the fingers wrapped around each other. Her knuckles
were outside her, and Ruth gasped, intuiting her intention - to double
fist her. Ruth had never been double-fisted before, and wasn't even
sure it was possible, but there was a determined look to
Jenny's face, and Ruth knew she was determined
to get both her hands inside her.
Ruth lay
back, trying to relax, and not strain
against her. She began to push, her tissues resisting, stretching,
slowly, achingly,
almost agonisingly slowly. They gave way,
little by little, her
hands sinking into her, until finally.. finally, her hands were inside
me. Ruth couldn't believe it, Ruth could not believe it, and she looked
up at her with a little grin of triumph, of
possession, as if to say,
'You're mine now.'
And Ruth
was, Ruth was, hers, soul, body, and
all - with these hands, Ruth thee wed, Ruth was the ring over her
hands. Ruth felt her love for her soaring, expanding, enveloping her.
She bent to lap at her clit with her tongue, her mouth on her, rasping
her tongue over her clit, and Ruth pulled her head into her body with
her hands, her fingers curling in her hair, her pussy stretched beyond
anything Ruth had felt before, her clit thumping and pulsing harder and
harder.
And then...
then... she bit her! Ruth threw her
head back and screamed, release coursing through her body, her cunt
pulsating around her hands, wave after wave of orgasm shuddering
through her. Her hips lifted off the ground, pulling Jenny with her,
her come drenching her face, her hands, her arms, and Ruth thudded back
onto the floor, panting, befuddled by the intensity of her orgasm,
riding out the aftershocks of her wonderful, tremendous orgasm.
Before Ruth
could reply the girls had entered
the great hall, which presently became quite full.
'Don't let
go of me, darling, for the life of
you. It's lost I'd be in a place of this sort. Let me clutch on to you
until they put me into the lowest place in the school.'
'But why
so?' asked Ruth, glancing at her tall
companion in some astonishment. 'Don't you know anything?'
'I? Never a
bit, darling. I don't suppose
they'll keep me here. I have no learning, and I never want to have any,
and what's more - '
Jenny's
dark-blue eyes grew round with
laughter. She suddenly dropped a curtsy.
'Mum's the
word, ma'am,' she said, and then she
glanced round at her numerous companions.
The girls
had all been watching her. Their
faces broke into smiles, the smiles became titters, and the titters
roars. The mistress had again to come forward and ask what was wrong.
'It's only
me, miss,' said Jenny, 'so don't
blame any of the other innocent lambs. I'm fresh from old America.
Oh, miss, it's a beautiful country! Were you never there? If you could
only behold her purple mountains, and let yourself go on the bosom of
her rushing streams! Were you ever in the old country, miss, if I might
venture to ask a civil question?'
'No,' said Miss Atherton in a very suppressing
tone. 'I don't understand impertinent questions, and I expect the
schoolgirls to be orderly. - Ah, Ruth Craven! Will you take this young
lady under your wing?'
'Didn't I
say we were to be mates, dear?' said
Jenny Weinburg; and as they passed from the great hall, Jenny's hand
was still fondly linked on Ruth's arm.
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