Breaking in of a Head Girl Part 2
(All characters and models 18+)
Pamela’s mother had blushed. Sylvia Maidment and mother of 18 year-old Pamela. Who was to be this year’s Head Girl and so, later this morning, in about half-an-hour now, would be the recipient of that office’s ceremonious induction. Pamela’s rather ripe bottom…
Yes, Sylvia Maidment had blushed, and her husband Charles had pursed his lips as he took in this no doubt somewhat shocking information. It had been one afternoon after school towards the end of last term, when the new girl had to be chosen. Yes a shock coming right after the other surprise, though of course a much more pleasant one, as he announced that he thought Pamela would be ideal as next year’s Head Girl. Sylvia Maidment had blushed and nervously shifted her rather attractive legs. She was a very good-looking woman, a brunette like the delectable Pamela.
H e had seen Sylvia Maidment again this summer, at the vicarage fete and, catching her alone had, with his eyes smiling, put the question: ‘Were you by any chance caned as a girl, Mrs Maidment?’ He had been rewarded with another blush as she vigorously shook her head. And he had said, ‘Well…’ And the thought had been there: well, it’s never too late…
But it was of course daughter Pam who was the focus
of his attention. Delectable Pam who would shortly be appearing up the college driveway in full uniform.
Full uniform was generally not required for girls once they were over 18, except on special occasions. But what could be more special than this? And so it would be the navy sweater over the pale blue blouse and the pleated grey skirt. Blue-striped St Margaret’s tie and the matching band round the flat-brimmed straw hat, which the older girls generally hated to wear. Plus little-girl white knee-socks worn with black strap-over shoes which they certainly hated. Yes, delicious Pam would be wearing all that. And under it… plain neat white knickers tightly hugging the full cheeks of her bottom. Plain neat white knickers which of course would have to come down.
Eric moved away from the window. He had a definite tightness in the front of his smart trousers. Yes, he had an erection.
‘Mother, I think I’m going to be sick!’ wailed Pam Maidment. ‘I just can’t go through with this.’
‘Don’t be a silly. Of course you can. Just keep telling yourself it’s only a school tradition and of course no one else is going to know about it. And remember it does mean you are Head Girl. Now come on, you don’t want to be late.’
Mother and daughter were up in Pam’s room where she was forcing herself to get ready for this awful ordeal. Standing in front of her full-length mirror now in the uniform which she and her friends had thankfully abandoned a year ago when they entered the Sixth Form. Pam had grown a bit since then, her boobs especially were bigger and the blouse was very tight over them. Also under the grey skirt her hips and bottom were fuller. Her bottom…
No she couldn’t do this!
‘Come on Pam! If you’re late — well, he might just do it harder!’
Pam turned with a desperate moan from the mirror. Behind her Sylvia flipped up her daughter’s skirt to check her knickers. Mr Hanfield had stressed full uniform which included regulation knickers and he wouldn’t want to find she had thoughtlessly put on something perhaps more racy: those sexy black ones or the see-through pink. But it was alright, Pam had put a pair of the required white ones on.
‘
I’ll go and start the car,’ she said. ‘Come right down. You mustn’t be late.’
Sylvia herself was feeling agitated. Anxious for poor Pam but also excited. There
was the thought of getting it herself. If for instance Pam really was sick and had to cry off. And she would have to go and tell him. And perhaps say: well if you like you can do it to me instead? And Mr Hanfield with that eager look in his eyes would say, ‘Yes alright Mrs Maidment. Or shall we say Sylvia? Take your knickers down then. And lift your skirt up round your waist and bend over my desk.’
It was such a scary but exciting thought. Perhaps she should say to Pam, ‘Look if you really are feeling ill you’d better not go. I’ll go and explain to him.’ (To be contd)