Extract from Hell School for Teachers Book Two

 

(It is some time in the 1950's, and innocent 18-year-old students Tess, Emma, Ruth, Heather, and Natasha have had a shocking introduction to their new school, when they were exposed, caned, and humiliated in assembly. Now in the toilets they are trying to make sense of what happened...)

 

There was a petroleum jelly dispenser on the wall of the girls' lavatories with a sign beside it that read: A Ringsdean girl is always prepared.

Tess, Emma, Ruth, Heather, and Natasha emerged shakily one at a time from the toilet stalls where they had been trying to expel the last of Brownlow's semen from their rectums. Pale-faced and trembling they then used wet paper towels to dab their tender bottoms, examining themselves in the mirrors over the basins and then exchanging frightened, shameful, and embarrassed glances with each other. Surely this could not have happened? They had not really been sodomised by their new headmaster in front of the entire school? No, that was utterly impossible!

And yet of course their bodies were stark testament to the fact that it had.

'They can't treat us like this!' Heather said through gritted teeth.

'Of course they can't! It's obscene and completely illegal!' Ruth agreed. Then she added a little more uncertainly: 'Isn't it?'

'It must be...' Emma said, '... and yet they all acted as though it was perfectly normal. All the teachers, I mean. Even the other girls.'

'Yes... like it was us who were in the wrong,' Natasha said.

'Well I don't care if it's right or wrong, I've had a ... a man's cock shoved up my bottom and it hurt, and I just want to go home!' Tess sniffed miserably.

'We'll all go home,' Heather said firmly. 'Right now!'

Emma frowned. 'Isn't it a long way?'

'You mean back to...umm,' Ruth's face creased with effort and then she blinked. 'That's silly... I know I've got a home and parents... but right now I can't remember where they are...'

The others were looking equally confused.

'We all came in on the same bus,' Emma said reasonably. 'So we must live along the same route.'

'Yes, that's right,' Heather agreed. 'So if we catch it again it'll take us home.'

'What number was it?'

'It was a special school run... wasn't it?'

'That means we'll have to wait here all day,' Natasha said.

'I couldn't stand that!' Tess said.

'Maybe it won't be all that bad. As long as we obey the school rules,' Emma said.

'Walking around without bras and knickers?' Ruth said. 'With greased bottoms!'

'We can if we have to. All the other girls do. Apparently, it's quite normal.'

'It's so... naughty!' Tess exclaimed.

They examined their bottoms again and as they did so thoughts of going home melted away. Actually, the cane marks were not quite as bad as they had first thought, and the ache was fading from their rectums. It was so improbable that it was beginning to seem more like they had imagined it. Or if it had happened, then perhaps they were making a fuss about nothing? Everyone else seemed to think so. They did things differently in Ringsdean. Maybe all finishing schools were like this. They were certainly learning new things...

'How long have we been in here? Have lesson's begun?' Heather said suddenly. 'I don't know where I should be.'

'Has anybody seen a timetable?' Emma asked.

'We'll be late...' Natasha groaned.

The fear of not knowing where to go in a strange new school infused them. They did not fit in and would make stupid mistakes and the other girls would snigger and laugh at them. That really was something to be concerned about.

'So there you are, new girls!' a booming hearty male voice said suddenly, seemingly right in their ears.

They all spun round to see standing in the entrance way of the toilets a vigorous muscular man perhaps in his early thirties. He was wearing plimsolls and shorts and a kind of zipped windcheater over a sports vest. A whistle and stopwatch hung on a lanyard about his neck.

'Sir!' Emma protested in a plaintive voice as they all hastily smoothed down their skirts. 'These are the girl's toilets!'

'And there's still no hiding from us in here,' he continued. 'I'm Mr Fawn the PE master. You should have been out on the field ten minutes ago. You've all got a double lesson.' He clapped his hands together sharply several times. 'Come on, get changed, chop, chop!'

Before they could protest any further, Fawn almost herded them back out into the changing room and their lockers. Then he stood there with folded arms watching them expectantly. They bit their lips and blushed as they realised that he was not going to move.

'Sir... you can't watch as get undressed!' Heather said.

'Of course I can,' Fawn said briskly. 'It's my duty to see how strong you are and where you need develop. I can't do that unless I have a proper look at you, can I? There'll be no hiding your bodies from me. That's not the Ringsdean way...'

They knew it was wrong and they certainly felt the shame of it, and yet it also made a crude kind of sense.

'Come along now, don't dawdle!' Fawn boomed. 'I want to see you changed into your PE kit in one minute or else you'll get half a dozen smacks on the behind from my plimsoll!' They looked down at his big feet in horror. 'No bras or panties of course.' He consulted his watch. 'You have fifty seconds...'

Trembling and biting their lips in panic they tore off their school uniforms, stuffed them into the lockers, pulled out their PE kit from their duffle bags and scrambled to get them on. All the while they were aware of Fawn's sharp eyes taking in their bare bottoms and jiggling breasts and newly shaven pubes. A fresh wave of sharp shame coursed through them, making them sick with the force of it. Yet at the same time they felt an illicit thrill at being exposed before this strange man's eyes. Their nipples hardened under their white singlets, and they felt a curious slippery wetness filling the now naked clefts of their vulvas.

They were panting and their cheeks were burning by the time they stood clad in their PE gear in a ragged line of front of Fawn. He looked up from his watch and grinned at them.

'There now, that wasn't so hard, was it? Now you'll be doing plenty of physical exercise and getting hot and sweaty, so you don't want to chafe. Have you greased yourselves?'

'No, Sir,' they admitted.

'Well get on with it then! Chop, chop! A good dollop between your thighs and up your bottom crack and a dab into your bottom holes...'

And to their fresh shame and redoubled horror he came through into the toilets after them and watched closely as they took blobs of the jelly on their fingers from the dispenser.

'Let me see you do it properly...'

Stifling groans and whimpers of dismay they bent over and presented their bottoms to him. They lifted their skirts and proceeded to work the slippery jelly into the folds about their pubic mounds and along the clefts of their buttocks and finally wiggling a little bit into the tight puckers of their anuses. They supposed greasing their groins was a sensible idea, but did he have to watch them do it? By the time they were finished their cheeks were as red as beetroots.

But Fawn did not seem to notice their blushes. 'That's better! Now follow me...'

He led them with bouncing steps out of the changing rooms along the corridor and through a side door into the back of the school where playing fields stretched away to a line of trees. The sun had still not yet broken through the veil of cloud, but it was mild and bright outside. There were already a few dozen other girls out there on the field trotting around the running track, practising the long jump in a sandpit and playing volleyball. Some of the masters they had seen in the halls, still in their caps and gowns but now carrying canes, appeared to be supervising them. As the girls threw themselves energetically about their unconfined breasts heaved against the thin fabric of their singlets, with the crowns of their nipples forming distinct points. As the long jumpers flew through the air their skirts billowed up exposing their naked loins. Getting up after a jump they unconcernedly brushed the sand from their bare bottoms.

The teachers were also paying close attention to the girls' activities. The one standing by the track watching those running circuits flicked his cane out across their bottoms as they passed him, encouraging them to run faster. The one umpiring the volleyball game came onto the court and positioned a girl's arms so she would be better able to block a retuning ball, his hands sliding across and lifting her thinly covered breasts in the process. The teacher by the long jump pit snapped his fingers at a girl who had carelessly walked back over the pit after her jump, thereby invalidating her result, and had her bend and lift her skirt so he could administer a quick flick of his cane across her naked bottom.

The new girls instinctively shuddered at these displays of intimacy and yet looked at each other with the same thought of their minds. Strange or not the other pupils were acting as though it was normal to expose themselves like this in front of their teachers and accept their casual handling and chastisement. Perhaps they were the ones out of step...

'As it's your first day you have a choice of exercises this morning,' Fawn said. 'You can either take part in a supervised activity on the field or you can run the cross-country obstacle course on your own...'

He indicated the line of a track that stretched away on the outside of the white painted ovoid of the multilane running course. It was marked by a series of short white posts hammered into the ground with wooden arrows nailed to them. The arrow-marked course followed the perimeter until it vanished amongst the line of bushes and trees that marked the farthest end of the school grounds. It reappeared on the far side of the playing fields and ran down again to the opposite corner of the school buildings.

'But be warned it's more of a challenge than it looks. There are some tricky obstacles to get through. And if you chose to run it unsupervised you take full responsibility for your own safety and anything that happens to you during the run. You cannot complain afterwards that it was too much for you, do you understand?'

They thought he was blowing a simple run out of all proportion, but the choice was easy. They would all rather run by themselves than be groped by teachers on the playing field while flashing their private parts at them.

'We'd like to do the run please, Mr Fawn,' Emma said for all of them.

'Very well...'

Fawn lined them up along a start line by the first of the white posts.

'Ready, set... go!'

They set off at a steady trot in a bunch along the track following the line of the bushes that hugged the tall brick wall that must have marked the perimeter of the school grounds. They noticed as they went that there were additional lines of wiring strung above the top course of the brickwork.

'Is that an electric fence?' Emma said.

'I think it is,' Heather agreed. 'What kind of school needs an electric fence?'

'This kind of school,' Tess said tersely.

'But is it to keep other people out... or the pupils in?' Natasha wondered.

Nobody replied. Instead Emma asked: 'How far do you think this track is all round?'

'Maybe six or seven hundred metres,' Tess estimated.

'Metres? Have you gone all continental suddenly?'

Tess did not know why she had said that. 'I mean yards, of course. No more than half a mile at the most.'

'Then how can it possibly be as hard as Fawn said?' Emma wondered. 'We can do that in ten minutes easily.'

'Maybe it gets harder when we reach the trees...' Heather suggested.

'Doesn't it feel odd running with no knickers on?' Ruth said with a sudden giggle. 'The air gets to some very intimate places.'

'It feels even stranger running with a greased bottom,' Natasha countered.

They reached the corner of the grounds and followed the turn of the course around into the straggling line of bushes and trees. As the course plunged between them it got dimmer and darker and the distant sounds of the playing field were muted. The track began to weave about amongst the trees, and they had to twist and turn to follow it looking ahead for the next arrow marker. The belt of trees was deeper than they had first imagined and soon they could see neither a perimeter wall nor the edge of the playing fields. They began to pant more heavily as the path got rougher and their breasts bounced and jiggled under their singlets. Then there came the obstacles...

There was a water-filled ditch that they had to leap over, stumbling and sliding about on the muddy bank on the far side. Then some holly bushes formed a kind of chicane and they had turn sideways to edge their way through it, gasping and wincing as the sharp spines pricked their bare flesh and tugged on their flimsy clothing. Then there came a series of country styles, except they were topped by rotating drums that bristled with an array of rubber prongs and hooks and nodules. They had to straddle them to climb over, and they shivered and groaned as the fingers of rubber found their way up into their groins and teased their naked pubes and bottom clefts. It was both absurdly funny and deeply embarrassing at the same moment and they could not help giggling and cursing under their breath. In their haste to get over the styles without impaling themselves they were tripping and falling onto the soft bed of leaf litter and wood chips around them, grazing their knees and getting filthy and scratched in the process.

But they were also being strung out by the obstacles, losing sight of each other amongst the bushes and tree trunks that seemed to be growing closer and darker about them.

And suddenly they each found themselves alone...