Melody Smith's Schooldays

Melody Smith's Schooldays

by Eve Adorer

Chapter 15 – My Vacation Vocation

Supremely aroused as I had become holding the divine Deneel in a tender embrace as the ultimate phase of Maiden Mead making had been given over to me, a long tepid shower was needed to lower the summit of my ardour and save me from the evil compulsion to touch myself.

My body came down from its peak of heat but very slowly. My mind continued lost in the maze of lust for the remainder of the sleepless night through which I turned and tossed abed, fighting to keep my pretty fingers from mischief, and unable therefore to douse my fire, my red-hot lava flowing as I closed my eyes and envisioned Deneel's visage endlessly over and over again. For days afterwards I longed to see Deneel once more. I had never seen anything in all my sixteen tender years as wonderful as that twenty-year old nubile negress, so miraculously sculpted by nature and nurture, by heaven's beneficence and ballet's benevolence. If that was what ballet training did for girl, then all girls should be ballet dancers by law!

I had even almost forgotten the letter: the letter the head girl held: the letter from my father: the letter from Italy. Such was my passion for the plus-perfect pulchritudinous Deneel; all other matters in my life were relegated by the empty desert in my desire driven mind.

I was a young girl experiencing the powerful drive of compelling sexual desire. My body and mind were of single focus. My body was womanly ripe: my mind was still a young girl's.

Sexually, I was no longer merely budding. Sexually, I was mature. Sexually, I was no longer burgeoning. Sexually, I was in full young flower. My infolding love petals kissed virgin tightly, hiding my deep hidden pistils. Subliminally, I was probably still driven then, by a longing for a pistol to pump and pour pollen in my purse and, despoiling my purity, propagate in me to populate from me. But, even then, I had no fore-conscious desire for penis. At surface, nature compelled and body mind and soul were as one in obedience of the compulsion, and my compulsion was girl-girl.

I longed for love. I longed for sex. I longed for girl. They were all three one and the same in a sixteen-year-old schoolgirl's body and mind. I was driven girl. Nature had control of my head and heartstrings. I would dangle and dance a puppet at nature's command. Nature would drag me along willingly or unwillingly to fulfil my sexual needs. My heart was in my slit. My heart was in my slit, and my slit willing and wanton and willing me to be wanton. I was waiting wanting willing wanton girl.

I felt no guilt that my longing was girl for girl. For me the love of girl for girl was heaven's greatest gift. I was innocent and ignorant of any alternative. Of course I knew that I had been begat by boy and girl combining in love labour's lust. My ignorance and innocence was my wholly holy virginity in the boy girl realm: a lesser world, a nether world; a world I had no desire, even then, ever to visit. Having discovered heaven's locus, why would I look for lesser love in a lower world? My heart was in my slit. I wanted girl in my heart: I wanted girl in my slit.

I feared that neither mummy nor daddy would understand. It is odd that I felt no guilt but could feel concern that my parents should not know my love was only for the love of lovely girl. My thinking here was not that I was in the wrong and would be discovered; it was that they were in the wrong and that I did not want to hurt them by making them show they were so very wrong about something so exceptionally extremely wonderful.

It was the last week of term before the three-week break for Easter. It was five days after my experience at the Wicked Wench, where I had witnessed the making of Maiden Mead. The head girl had finally given me daddy's letter from Italy. It was written in long loving endearment to say how sorry he and mummy were that they would be unable to see me that upcoming Easter vacation, because of the death of my great-uncle exiled in Italy and the need to attend mummy's much loved uncle's funeral.

Daddy was sure; he said in his letter, that I would be looked after at the academy by the headmistress, with whom I was to stay that Easter. He added that the headmistress had given her word that Benji, my adorable adored Alsatian, would be looked after in her home too, so that I could see him. The headmistress' only condition was that Benji be returned to my parents after the three-week break. Benji, daddy assured me, was even now (at the time he wrote) in kennels, and by arrangement, would arrive with the headmistress on one of the first few days of my vacation.

……………….

On the last day of term, by popular request of the other girls in the school, I was wearing another version of the lampshade dress I had worn at the Wicked Wench. This one was canary yellow, and I wore canary yellow stockings, suspenders, and hugely filled a cupless strip of canary yellow silk over my breasts, knotted tightly behind my back to prevent my abundance overspilling. Seven-inch bright yellow stiletto heels gloried my gorgeous legs, and a huge yellow rose was on my left leg's stocking-top garter. My long blonde hair had been twin plaited and then rolled into two tight glowing harvested-corn circled-coils at the side of my head. I daringly wore canary yellow eye shadow and even canary yellow lipstick.

I was orgasmically compelling, and my modesty at my overwhelming loveliness a central essential component: the catalyst making me overwhelmingly orgasmically adorable.

Girls laughed in loving love with and of me as they pointed to my pretty mouth-lips lipsticked livid yellow. It was daring. It was sexy. It was a young girl's privilege taken, to challenge convention and allure with lurid lips the more kissable for their startling colour, so naturally unnatural: it being natural for a young girl to go against nature and paint her lips so unnatural a colour.

On my seven-inch heels, toes pointed to earth's core rising me on legs leading to the lips gating and guarding heaven between their dreamy long, leanly long, creamy-complexioned girl curved miles, I stood, sex on luscious legs, longed for, and longing for sex. Girls' head-turning in my mystery and my radiant desirability, availability and unavailability, I was listening to the head teacher, Miss Pringle, at the full school assembly with which every day at the St Catherine's Academy for Girls started.

"Now girls, those of you living locally and who have been with us for some time, will know that we look to you to have the school pets in your loving and caring homes for the three-weeks break so close upon us. The school will be fully closed down, so, there will be nobody in the school to feed and water them. You must have parental permission to take one of them home for the break of course. Not all of us wish to find a laboratory rat in our homes!" Nobody laughed at this intended joke, not realising that the limp way in which the headmistress' voice had been raised at the end of the announcement, signalled that it had been one; that it was intended to be a joke.

To hide her embarrassment at her failed attempt at humour, the headmistress turned to a brown pretty hand held high in the congregation.

"Yes, you, Nulinda", she pointed to a gorgeous Asian-Indian girl, a fifteen-year-old with luxurious straight black hair down to the bottom of her bottom, and framing a face almost as lovely in repose as in smile, with features of delightful complexion including eyes of joyous sparkling brown, that she turned momentarily, brown hue and eyes both, my way to indicate whom she was talking about.

"Yes, you, Nulinda", the headmistress pointed to this girl who had her hand raised, to raise that she wanted to raise a question.

"Please miss", Nulinda's delightful white-toothed smile widened as she plucked up her courage with the whole school, all five hundred girls, listening intently to her sweet voice, "Please miss, all the girls say Melody Smith is a pet, so may I take Melody home for the hols?"

Even the headmistress had to laugh along with all the school at this very cheeky little girl's joke. Then all eyes turned to me, but in the midst of my blush I only saw Nulinda, and knew from her look, which was now so sensuously serious, that she wanted me. And oh how at that moment I wanted her beauty, her innocent delight: this, the girl who was the school comedienne with childish cheek and cheeky wit to match her winsome worth.

"You will go a long way in life Nulinda!" the headmistress smiled, "But not a long way with Melody during this vacation I'm afraid. As Melody's parents are unavoidably away abroad, Melody will be staying with me this Easter".

A long sympathy-and-disappointment-conveying comic chorus, "Ahhhh!" followed by girlish laughter, teased Nulinda as it echoed mock pity from the other girls at the head having to "disappoint" the Asian angel, who giggled in embarrassed hot blushing pleasure at having her childish joke so enjoyed by the whole school.

"Report to my office at the end of the day Melody" the headmistress instructed, as if she had only just recalled that it had been arranged I stay the vacation through with her.

I long lovely legilly curtsied my acknowledgement of Miss Pringle's orders.

Arrangements for the real school pets, several rats, a dozen mice, and three rabbits, were made, and we dispersed to our classes. As I wiggled steeple-legged in my seven-inch stilettos on my way to classes, I could not help but notice, because it was so blatant, that Nulinda lingered to be near me.

"May I say you are so very pretty miss?" she asked shyly.

"Of course you may", I blushed, smiling at her loving countenance, watching her spellbinding brown eyes slowly sip the delights of my body from toes to top, and settle on the green shining lovely lightening flash in my irises, as her compliment caused my slit to wet and be whetted with wanting.

"I…..I…….I love you miss", Nulinda sighed with her black hair suddenly shyly curtaining her lowered loving lovely face.

I had no real idea how to answer this stunning sudden surprise. This was surely a very young girl who did not know what she was talking about. But how much more did I know, not even two years her senior?

"I am deeply honoured Nulinda. You are a very pretty girl." I answered, my virgin slit now shining as my honey seeped.

"May I kiss you miss?" Nulinda's eyes begged as compellingly as her lips.

"Not without a prefect's written permission", I countered with what was intended as a kind and gentle passion cooling laugh in my intonation.

But this girl was not going to take "no" for an answer, and she gently took my dainty hand and lured me unwillingly willingly into the nearby and, fortunately and unfortunately unoccupied lavatories. There she instantly knelt on the ground and kissed my yellow stockinged steepled right foot in its seven-inch stretched heeled high, as I closed my eyes in wanting to say "yes" and having to say "no" confusion.

And then Nulinda gazed up in rapture at my completely nude shaven harbour haven. And I noed my willing yes as the fifteen-year old Asian angel now put her delightful face so close to my honeypot, fully exposed as it was under the open bell hem of my lampshade skirt, that I could feel her breath on my sensitive nude lips. A split of a split second later her mouth was on my slit and her tongue beginning to part the guardian gates of heaven, when I gently caught hold of her shoulders….

….But she was strong for one so young and persistent and insistent, and the heat of her sweet breath condensing on my heaven-hiding-lips made me secrete my secret honey and my honey to dribble, as I "no, no, no, no, noed my aroused "yes, yes, yes, yes, yeses" my head "no, noing" side to side as my sensated mind nodded assent to this girl's ascent into my nirvana nerve-centre.

Nulinda was now between my wide-parted welcoming legs, and I listened to her eager slurps as she sucked my honey and it glistened on her lips to match the sheen in the gusset of her pure white tight-white knickers as she was approaching a cum at her pleasure in tasting my nectar, the essence of me: my essence: my supreme girlness.

Somehow I must, and did distressingly and hurtfully, find the strength to ease her off me…

….."No my angel, no, please no!! I'm so sorry Nulinda but it must be no. Please love me still, please adore me!"

Caught off-balance, Nulinda tumbled back off her haunches and flashed the very wet girl-juice-soaked school-issue knickers that sucking my essence had caused, before she scrambled to her feet.

"You fucking cow!" she cursed me, with her lips still moist with me, in her deep hurt frustration and passion propelled anger.

"Oh no!" I begged, "Please don't blame me Nulinda. I have to obey……..I am the School Slag… I have to obey the School Slag rules!"

But she stormed out, tears running down her adorable face, as my arms reached out to try and take and comfort her, too late, far too late, far far too late ………

…………….

For the rest of that day I tried to get near Nulinda, who, joy of joys finally came over to me and said a simple, "Sorry miss". It brought tears of joy to my eyes to know that I was still loved and adored, wanted and now forgiven by this beauty among beauties, despite the denial of her fulfilment from sipping nectar between my petals.

And then I understood in the instant why I was forgiven, as Nulinda, smiling radiantly, showing me a certificate.

For her as well as for me, I felt such joy that this Asian-Indian ingénue now had signed licence obliging me to let her have me: signed indeed by Josephine, the prefect who loved me as I her.

The little Asian treasure looked at me with such pleasure in her flashing brown eyes, as I bent my willing head straight legged in my wide hide-nothing stiff hemmed canary yellow lampshade skirt to hear Nulinda whisper what she wanted of me, where, and when, as my passion petals flashed hot-moist.

That I should blush the deepest of deep crimson as she unashamedly told me, showed how deeply this brilliantly-bright-button of girlish silly jokes and loving loveable desire to be loved and desired was capable of thinking.

"Yes of course" I answered, my slit wet and whetted and keened once more as my mind registered her request.

And so later that day I looked distantly distinctly over at Nulinda in the sports ground, as we had our afternoon break from lessons, and watched her in that distance telling her pretty, young, pretty sceptical friends something, as she showed them a transparent plastic bottle, that clearly aroused their envy. She several times faced my way so that they looked over disbelieving despite her repeated insistent assurance she was telling the truth.

Then she again showed them the bottle with its clear golden-yellow contents, before hugging it to her and kissing it with the sweet lips that had tasted my honey that morning. For she was telling her disbelieving friends, that this she showed them, time and time, over and over again, was a bottle of my wine. She was boasting to her fifteen-year-old peers that she had a bottle of Melody Smith's golden-girl-pee, and was going to savour slow sips of its glory every night of the three-week holiday, sharing it with absolutely nobody!

And I sighed my disappointment that Nulinda's highest pleasure had been my golden treasure and not something that would result in a cum for her, or for me, or for me from her for her. But I also sighed my pleasure that a sip of my golden treasure was an unsurpassable pleasure for an angel such as she.

I wiggle-walked past this crowd of Nulinda and her friends, blushing as they whistled and cheered at my seven-inch high-heeled girl-legged glory gracing by on open display under my belled-out bright yellow stiff-hemmed lampshade skirt, displaying all my legs, my bummy, and my naughty nude naughty to the world and its life, on my way to report to the headmistress, as I must since I was to stay with her for the three-week Easter holiday to begin the next day.

……………….

I knocked nervously quietly on the headmistress' door. Miss Pringle, in fact Doctor Pringle, for that was her real name, and not "Old Prickle" or "the Prickly Doc" as we girls called her behind her back, was a very frightening lady. "Old Prickle" was, in fact, no more than thirty.

A very bright girl, she had flown through university with a bachelor double-first from ****** England followed by time at ****** in the USA. That she had followed in turn with an outstandingly brilliant and seminal doctoral thesis titled: "The Insistent Prevalent Presence of Sapphic Obsession Within Female Dyads in Distaff-Sided Unisexual Institutions and Institutionalised Environments - Its Provenance, History, Physiology, Psychological Foundation, Persistent Occurrence, Subversion, Recurrence Prevention, and Curative Obliteration", a book that marked her as the unparalleled sociology student of the century at ****** England, to which she had transferred to complete her tertiary education on her return from ******, just six summers since.

Miss Pringle had then breezed through teacher training, and her appointment as head of St Catherine's Academy for Girls, recognised internationally as the crème de la crème of girls' schools, was a simple formality.

She was by far the youngest woman ever appointed to the headship of St Catherine's. She was also by far the prettiest. Many a young girl at St Caths had a secret crush on her. Their calling her "Old Prickle" and "the Prickly Doc" was often just a disguise for the emotion that stirred in girlish hearts when this attractive but stern lady glided by.

Miss Pringle, "Amelia" to her friends, had, unfortunately, apparently left her soul in one of the books she had steeped herself in at university. She seemed to be the frustrated spinster epitomised. Her feminine curves were always completely hidden in a black dress that covered her neck to toes. Her studying had hurt her eyes, and her choice to use pince nez that dangled from a black-silk choker around her slender neck, when they were not needing to be clipped halfway down her nose for reading, made her seem a grandmother in apparent age to we young girls.

There was talk, there is always talk among schoolgirls, that Miss Pringle had been unlucky in love, and was taking it out on her pupils.

If only she would smile, her face would have been so pretty. If only she would be more advised about her dress, and wear her hair down, instead of always primly properly tied in a tight bun at the back of her head, she would in fact have looked lovely. Miss Pringle's hair was lusciously dark auburn and of great beauty, but the severity it gave her young face with its being so sharply drawn back, did her appearance no justice.

She had green eyes, Miss Pringle. Her long-sightedness made them look misty and dreamy. Talking to you, she always seemed to be looking through you, as if she could see an x-ray of your real thinking. She made you feel shallow by the way she looked past you, or seemed to pierce your very soul.

Her skin was gorgeous. Like all redheads, Miss Pringle was very pale. In summer her face would display tiny freckles noticeable across her forehead and nose, despite her attempts to hide their delightfulness under pancake makeup of some kind.

She had always been kind to me. I thought her misunderstood and would have argued in her defence had I not been the chosen School Slag, with it thus not being my place to argue or even join in debates in the prefecture where I was housed.

Okay, so Miss Pringle had once whipped me very hard on my bare split. But I had been very naughty, or at least there were credible witnesses to testify that I had been extremely naughty, and so I could forgive her the pain and humiliation I had suffered in the ritualised beating she had made me endure, even though it had been in truth completely unjustified.

"Come", Miss Pringle's voice called when, after getting no audible response from my first attempt, I had dared to knock on her door a second time.

"Ah, Melody!" Miss Pringle greeted me with this, as her eyes looked my delectable body over head to tiptoed toe in my seven-inch high spike heels.

"You are such a pretty girl Melody. God spared nothing when she made you".

I flushed fully floridly at this unexpected compliment from a woman I thought had never ever regarded me as a girl as opposed to solely seeing me, as yet another student.

"Thank you Miss Pringle" I shyly sighed, as I dutifully curtsied.

"We in the tutorial staff are not really allowed pupils in our homes Melody", Miss Pringle announced from behind the huge desk at which she sat and before which I stood long-legged, pretty hands behind my back.

"We are not, properly speaking, allowed pupils in our homes, but I have made an undertaking to your parents and those of another pupil for the three weeks of this tedious vacation now upon us", she mused as if she had rehearsed the line she was taking.

"We are not allowed pupils, but we always arrange for the school pets to be housed. So, with you my angel, we will have to indulge a little subterfuge". She smiled as she announced this as if she had been looking forward to the fulfilment of a plan that she had perhaps mulled over for weeks.

"You will strip yourself completely naked Melody, but leave those delightful coils of your wonderful hair at the side of your head, so they won't get in the way whilst you are on your little holiday from being a schoolgirl as such."

"Miss?" I queried.

"Do as you are told Melody and do it now if you know what is good for you!"

Miss Pringle's voice was measured and calm. She was used to having her own way with all the staff, let alone the pupils, and I was no challenge at all to her complete autocracy.

With nervous fingers I unclasped the securing buckle that held my bright yellow stiff bell-skirt to my hips, and dropped it to the floor. Having sweet sexy leggilly stepped out of the bell, I could now reach my seven-inch stilettos and ease my aching feet from them. To un-knot the yellow silk band that contained my huge breasts was a little difficult, so I abandoned the attempt temporarily whilst I rolled my unhitched canary yellow stockings down my miles of luscious leg.

I was surprised at how intently Miss Pringle watched me as I stripped before her, feeling terribly self-conscious.

"You will also remove that ridiculous yellow lipstick and eye-shadow" she instructed.

With a nervous, "Yes Miss" and swift beautiful bare legged curtsey, I confirmed my intended full compliance.

I thanked her as she finally helped me undo the bow at my back that the silk cloth covering my breasts was tied in, and showed me to a side-room, mirror, cold-cream, and tissues with which I could see and operate to remove the makeup from my pretty face.

Miss Pringle disappeared into her office as I smeared my lovely cheeks with cold-cream, the cool feel of which on my schoolgirl-soft complexion I had always adored.

As I emerged from her side bathroom, naked as nature apart from my hair in ripe-gold-corn-coils, I spotted gloves on her desk. Gloves in April I thought! Gloves in April: I ask you!! What an old fuddy-duddy "Old Miss Prickle Pringle" was!!!

But the gloves were not for her; they were for me.

"Put on the gloves, but first cover your knees with these" Miss Pringle commanded, as she handed me two of what were clearly knee-pads, similar to those I had worn when roller-blading in my even younger days.

I was as good as obedience, and strapped the black rubber pads over my knees, before donning the black rubber gloves, mittens without even a separate thumb in fact, with thick padding where my palms were within them.

I then looked at Miss Pringle, obedience personified, curiosity controlled.

"Kneel, my angel" she coaxed, and I obeyed yet again, getting down so that my padded knees were on the floor and my long pretty toes bent forward to hold me squatting.

In a moment Miss Pringle was down beside me. To my joy she ran an enquiring hand over the vast expansive of the massive boldness that my right thigh formed as my legs were folded.

I gasped open mouthed in sudden sweet surrender as she stroked my magically majestic gigantically strong bare right thigh inquisitively gently, and my honey flowed in my naughty as I sighed loudly to tell her that I loved her touch. And, had she cared to look at my moist mouthed innocent pleading eyes, she would have known that, being the supremely super-sensitive all-over head-to-toe erogenous zone I was, I was showing my desire fire aflame from her tender touch on my erotic body, my gasping moist mouth matching my gaping moist south.

"Magnificent!!", Miss Pringle crooned, "Totally magnificent: truly wonderful. Such latent power, such orgasmic grace, such enormous contained restrained titanic beauty!!"

At my side, she had dropped two leather straps with buckles, one of which she took up now and passed around my folded right leg, so that it went over my ankle and came up between my thighs. This she buckled off tightly, so that my leg was bound folded massive-thighed double.

A repeat of this process with my left leg, left me tied with both superb storm-strong-thighed legs tied inescapably tight-folded double.

Finally, she came up behind me, and only by feel was I made aware that she was passing around my long slim neck, a collar: a dog collar: a studded dog's collar, for this is what I was to become: a human dog: a human bitch.

A strange feeling in my naughty reflected the equally strange feeling in my girlmind as I squatted obedience bound and bound to obey.

Miss Pringle repeated her earlier words: "We are not normally allowed pupils in our homes, but we always arrange for the school pets to be housed….".

So, this humiliating fate was to be mine.

But why did I not protest? Why did my naughty moisten when Miss Pringle fitted my collar? Why did this unnaturalness feel so natural to me, for me to endure? Why did my mind welcome what my mind knew to be cruel and obscene? I was a girl in heaven's name! I was a sixteen-year-old schoolgirl sent by her parents in trust that she would be looked after in these, the most sensitive years of her burgeoning womanhood. And here I was, trust replaced by trusses, tied like a dog, bound like an animal, having my schoolgirl innocence savaged, having my schoolgirl's body abused and used, being mentally raped and deflowered by bondage to please the perverted lust of this woman, my headmistress, the girl in charge of my college, the girl charged with my well-being and honoured with the duty of care for my young mind and body.

I lowered my lovely eyes and blushed knowing that my naughty split was dribbling my honey as Miss Pringle held my dog leash ready to fix to my collar.

"Ah there you are at last", her voice threw over my head as I knelt unable to see and not daring to turn to look at whom she was addressing her greeting.

"Take this bitch to my car. I will join you there when I've finished my paperwork.

Miss Pringle handed over the leash, and someone behind me fitted it to my collar and tugged so that I rose on four limbs: mittened "forepaws" and padded knees forming my doggy bitch forelegs, rear legs, and four legs.

And as I rose thus, obedient as always, I was turned and could look at my mistress of the moment, the girl in tiptoed heelless rigid-soled ballet shoes steepling her to wondrous magnificence of girl-leg-glory who had hold of me by the doggy lead I would be forced to crawl along by.

And I looked at her calves. I looked at the calves of my mistress. I ogled the calves of my mistress as they were at my humble head height as I knelt in preliminary to being made to crawl. I looked at the carved curved calves of my mistress at her tight soft-skinned curved trained calves, ebony and beautiful beyond the human eye to endure without arousal of humility longing and lust, as Deneel tugged once more on my leash and I began to wiggle crawl, the white-girl human bitch I had been made into obeying completely her beyond-beautiful black mistress.

……………….

Deneel, the heaven's heaven black ballet dancer and now my mistress walking the doggy that was I, was gentleness and patience itself, as she led me slowly along giving me time to learn to crawl in the bondage in which I would be bound for the three weeks of the Easter vacation from school proper.

I crawled at the end of my leash down corridors with which I had become so familiar, past cleaning staff who seemed to think nothing of the sight of the two visions of exquisite loveliness, the ebony mistress as far to the one end of nature's wonderful colour spectrum, as the white girl she dragged along was at the other.

I crawled at the end of my leash down familiar corridors, my head held so that I gazed upon the strong unstockinged ballet-trained girlmuscular calves of the divine Deneel, whose model's walk in her tip-top-of-tiptoe-tiptoeing shoes always saw her place one foot precisely before the other so that her body swung swivelled wiggled and swayed with all the fabulous femininity of finest female feline.

This wonderful girl prowled like an alley-cat. Like a ballet-cat, she impelled the eye to watch and savour the walk of a dream on legs; legs that were dreams within the dream. Dark-black-cream-smooth supreme-smooth completely unblemished flesh shone with her glorious ballet-trained fitness, and gloried her scintilla-of-a-scintilla-of-a-surplus-milligram-free poundage and god-given perfection of hourglass shape. She was the girl that no girl could fail to want and want to be wanted by. She was a goddess of goddesses in super-human shape. She was impossible to believe the existence of, such was the perfection of her absolutely pure and totally unadulterated girlness.

And I had kissed her. I had kissed her heavenly mouth. I had kissed her goddess of goddesses' lips…..

…..But this was no time to reminisce, for whose were the lovely slim brown legs, also tiptoed in heelless pirouette shoes slinking so lightly and sexily toward us: toward the divine Deneel and toward me as I crawled on all fours?

Oh heaven I recognised that gorgeous girly giggle: that innocent charming laugh, but I had not before fully seen the slim and very pretty legs of Nulinda. For indeed it was she: Nulinda, the fifteen-year-old Asian-Indian angel was slinking toward my tethered body. I glanced up to glimpse the raven-black of this sweet girl's pubic hair, for she was, but for her heelless ballet-shoes, as naked as heaven intended, as was the goddess Deneel.

"You take her to the car, and I'll remind the head that term is over, even for her", Deneel's contralto voice way above my head ordered the eager and willing Nulinda.

Tumbling raven-coal-colour curls were replaced by straight raven locks, as Nulinda took my leash and led me crawling in obedience to her, to where I must negotiate the cold marble steps down from the grand entrance to the school, cross concrete blinding in the reflected heat of the beating sun, and arrive and be ordered, "Sit", as indeed I did in the instant in huge thunder thighed squat, at the rear door of a vehicle.

"Good gwirl", coaxed Nulinda in a voice that always contained the verge of a magically attractive girly giggle barely restrained.

"Good gwirl", she coaxed and my eyes could not help but run the length of her lovely slim naked legs.

"Good gwirl", coaxed Nulinda, talking to me precisely as if I were a dumb and stupid animal.

"Good gwirl", she whispered as if I were her pet.

"Good gwirl", Nulinda coaxed me, and I blushed as her humiliation of me creamed my naughty even more as I looked up at her wickedly pretty, brown, nude, tight little bottom.

As she bent to arrange something on the back seat of the car she had opened the rear door of, Nulinda's sixth sense told her I was looking at her beautiful bare brown buttocks, her smackybumps, and the lips of her very tight naughty, and enjoying what I saw.

Immediately she had done her business in the vehicle, which she seemed to purposely slow down with, to tease and entice my feasting eyes some more, she turned to me and, still with my dog's leash in her hand, hauled me up to my "four" legs giving me a quizzical, "I know what you were looking at" look, and then went behind me, bent over me, and smacked me twice, very hard, on my bare right bummy flank.

SLAP!! "Nwaughty gwirl!" ………SLAP!! "Wewy nwaughty gwirl!"

Her smacks hurt and I yelped both times.

Then, stroking my head as her scented body, so young lithe and desirable, squatted at my side: and my honey trickled from my naughty, Nulinda whispered: "Melody has got to be a good wickle dwoggy, and mustn't be a nwaughty dwoggy, looking at my pwitty wickle bwummy like that".

I gasped as I creamed with humiliation as this fifteen-year-old chastised me with the cruel taunt of her deliberately childish language….

"I know I've gwot a wery pwitty wickle bwummy, but Melody has no wite to wook at my wery pwitty wickle bwummy. Melody is going to be a gwood wickle dwoggy and won't look at pwitty bwummies even pwitty wickle bwummies like mine."

I flushed from hair roots to the base of my neck at this humbling humiliation and degradation. This young girl knew how to mistress me. I sighed as I hung my head in absolute shame that her command over me had reduced me to animal, as my honey dribbled down the insides of my enormous folded-leg formed thighs: secretion seeping from my doggy degradation.

"Cwum on pwitty dwoggy. Cwum on", I was lead to the open rear door of the headmistresses' car and was being instructed to get into it, high above my tight-tied-folded legs.

After much struggle I managed it to the tune of Nulinda's melodic…

"Dwers a cwever wickle dwoggy!"

Blushing deep pink with knowing Nulinda knew what my helpless hopeless bondage capped by her humiliation was doing to me, I momentarily glanced up at this fifteen-year-olds perfect pert lollipops: her superlatively-firm conical breasts, protruding twin mini-brown-mounts-Fuji capped with huge strawberry-pink nipples.

"Nwaughty gwirl! Nwaughty nwaughty gwirl!!" Nulinda's pretty forefinger beat the air side-to-side in warning for my daring to look at her naked beauty once again, and forewarned of another slap on my bummy if I did not behave, I lowered my head shamed humbled and disgraced.

I hung my head in shame at my desire for Nulinda's beautiful young body, and my consequent sexual arousal and my further arousal at being shamed for my natural desire, and at my being shamed by my arousal from my shame at my arousal. And my hurt at being denied to look upon her heavenly face and figure aroused me like an animal. And so it was that not only by my physical bondage but by the mental bondage they, Nulinda so far at least, were taunting me with, I was being made the dog, the bitch I was bound as, and thus bound to become.

I crouched on the floor at the rear of Miss Pringle's car as she got in to drive us to her home. There I squatted with four of the most beautiful legs I had ever beheld in my young life, exquisite calves arched supremely by tiptoe-shod feet pointed toward the centre of the universe, legs rising to heaven as Deneel and Nulinda sat either side of my cowering body, and I dare not look: I dare not look: I could not look at heaven on earth.

"Don't forget" said Miss Pringle, turning whilst sitting in the driving seat, before she started the car. "Don't forget the deal was that you could have the doggy to play with over the holiday, provide you looked after her entirely, including keeping her groomed and well exercised."

"Yes, Miss Pringle", my two young tormentors affirmed in near chorus.

"You must also teach her discipline", Miss Pringle reminded Deneel and Nulinda, "There is nothing in the world of pet animals as awful as an ill trained doggy. You must teach her to obey. She must learn to obey in an instant without the slightest sign of demur."

"I'm afraid we may have to use the dog whip on her Miss Pringle", Nulinda's mischievous giggly voice sounded out soprano clear.

"If it is necessary it is necessary" Miss Pringle responded.

……………..

"May I use the bathroom please?" I begged as we lurched along, the car jerking with Miss Pringle's appalling driving.

There was silence.

"May I use the bathroom please?" I pleaded once more.

"Did you hear a voice?" Nulinda enquired with a leering mocking cruelty in her tone.

"Once we have arrived, you'd better take the doggy for a walk. She may not be house trained, and I don't want any little accidents on my carpets, thank you very much!" Miss Pringle instructed.

"Please!" I begged, "I need to go now!"

A heavy sigh was heaved by the three beautifully cruel women in near unison, but the car drove on, my plea to be allowed to relieve myself being utterly ignored.

The desperation I felt about the urge to urinate was psychological rather than from a reasoned assessment of the need. My mind was crying out internally that I must, but must, be allowed to pee, because I was not able to do what I needed to do in the circumstance I was in, and because I had no idea of when I would be able so to do. But, in fact, if my circumstances and situation had been such that I had been in a position to urinate without let or hindrance I would probably not have been feeling any urge to do so at all.

Whether from real need or from need prompted by the impossibility, the urge to urinate had taken my mind over. We motored on, and every second seemed like an hour as I forced myself to retain restrain and refrain. I had no idea how far we had gone on our journey, let alone how much further we had still to go.

All I knew was the feeling that I could not hold myself much longer and that nature would force me to eject that which nurture had taught me I should retain and refrain from spilling until in an appropriate place in the time and space continuum.

I was aware from an "accident" I had had in my knickers in my early school days, of the danger of my letting myself go on the verge of arrival at a place where I could relieve myself: the sudden release from relief at being in-sight, rather than retention for the spilt seconds needed for the release to be on-site.

Every child does such a thing once. Every adult recalls the event and is thus reminded of the risk that the release of Ladysmith might have preceded her relief. The danger of the little dribble that turns to a torrent, and the arrival at the point target already emptied is a desperately shaming and lesson teaching event for a girl.

I was sure I was going to release my wine, and equally sure that it was worthless my appealing to be allowed to do so where it would be appropriate for me to do so. My previous requests of the right to release my natural fluid had been completely ignored. I would only be tormenting myself for my captors' continued evident pleasure at denying me, were I to plead again.

Perspiration was diamonding my gently furrowed brow as I strained to refrain and not release even the teensiest trickle knowing it would only be the prelude to the torrent, when the car we were in, wherein I crouched on all fours, bound like a hound at the rear, pulled over to the side in a Scottish country lane.

Although in stress at my restraint, I dared to glance at Deneel's beautiful ebony calves as they tensioned from her pressing her toes hard to ground, as she lifted her heavenly naked body from the seat, to exit the rear of the vehicle and leave open the door. And I could not help my eyes taking in her glory, as she reached over, all girl scent, and complex curvaceous contours fit and lithe, to attach my lead to my collar and tug, so that I must crawl out of the car.

What I wished to do, I wished to do in privacy and, despite the burning pressure that had built up inside my naughty, I waited for them to unbind me, so that I might at least hide over in the bushes. As it was their wish, and obviously an extension of my duties as the School Slag, I would then submit to being bound up once more, even though it was grossly cruel.

"I thought the doggy wanted to pee!" Nulinda's voice teased.

I waited and waited, but there was not the slightest move to untie me, and none to move me away from the passing public driving by the open grass verge on which my doggy bound body stood on its "four" legs.

Deneel began to pull my leash to take me back into the car. And then it happened. I could hold myself no longer, and my golden pee poured from the tight lips of my mystery, hissing in hot steaming abundant abandon to the grassed ground.

Tears ran down my face at this complete and utter humiliation as my pee splashed on the grass between my wide parted thighs.

But worse was to come for the build up of tension within my divine body and the heat it had generated within me as I had held my wine back within the perfectly proportioned beautiful carafe my body formed for it, had brought on a build-up of wind and the overwhelming urge also to defecate.

Worse was to come, as I knew it must, for a disgusting open fart was followed by a turd emerging inexorably from my anus. In my legs bound state, I moved to squat for the defecation, and hung my head in complete surrender to complete utter total degradation as I expelled in their turn, two turds of girl-chocolat on the open ground in open display on open property in the open air, openly naked.

"It is a shame to let her wine run to ground like that", remarked Miss Pringle. "When we have her at the house, we must farm her for that delight and enjoy it with our evening meals."

"Shall we gather her chocolat too? Nulinda enquired in sweet innocence.

"If you wish it", Miss Pringle responded.

"Well, I for one would like to try it" Nulinda embarrassedly confessed, thereby seeming to admit to a delight that her fellow girls did not necessarily share.

"It is an acquired taste Nulinda", Miss Pringle warned. "Personally, I enjoy the expelations of beautiful girls by mixing their chocolat with sweetened milk. If you will join me in that, I will join you in enjoying Melody's chocolat too".

"Oh, yes please!" Nulinda's giggling voice sexily pleaded as she rose to even higher tiptoe in her tiptoe booties with her excitement.

"May I also join in that?" Deneel asked, in a voice indicative of the fear of being left out.

"Of course you may my angel", Miss Pringle assured her.

Whilst I was defecating, I had watched from the corner of my eye, pretty Nulinda pull a short branch from a tree. I thought nothing of this other than the assumption she was passing time. But as she had waited for me to answer nature's call, and watched me embarrass myself, she had been plucking off the sub-branches and leaves from this pliable strand. It was only as Deneel took my leash to make me crawl back to the car that I heard a whistle of air being swiftly penetrated by a whisk of wood, and THWICK!, Nulinda whipped me on my naked right thigh.

I yelped with the pain.

"Why did you do that Nulinda?" Miss Pringle asked in a measured tone hinting of a telling-off to come.

"I just wanted to" Nulinda answered nervously.

"Well, we mustn't hit the doggy when she is behaving herself. That is no way to teach her her place. The doggy will become confused if pain does not only immediately follow naughtiness, and Melody has not been naughty in any way that I have noticed."

"Sorry Miss Pringle", Nulinda answered with a touch of fear clearly evident in her voice.

"It is not I to whom you should apologise, it is the doggy", Miss Pringle instructed.

I now saw the pretty legs of Nulinda begin to bend at the knee so she could squat beside me and tell me she was sorry. And I felt a melting in my heart and in my naughty as Nulinda's lovely figure squatted down beside me and I could adore her pert breasts as her pretty hands stroked my face and she said "Swowwy: werry, werry swowwy" and then kissed my forehead.

"Why don't you get the doggy to forgive you, by using the stick to throw, so she can bring it back to you? Doggies love that!" Miss Pringle proposed………

……….."No. On second thoughts, we'd better get on our way", she continued. The doggy will probably want to chew that stick to pieces after it has hurt her. Throw it away when she is not looking, so she won't try to chase after it." Miss Pringle ordered.

…………..

The rest of our journey took but a short while we being but a short time and a short distance from our arrival at a surprisingly large almost mansion-sized house, the home of Miss Pringle whom, I realised, must be very wealthy in her own right, as this was not a home that could be afforded on the pittance paid to the headmistress of St Catherine's Academy for Girls alone.

I felt dirty and sweaty and would almost have sold my soul for a shower. The mental and physical soiling of my public urination and defecation and my uncleanliness from being unable to wipe myself hygienically, combined with my sweaty state and my mental state to make me feel filthy and disgusting. But there was clearly no intention on the part of my captors to release me from my bonds. To them my soiled state was no more than that to be expected of an animal.

"We agreed you would exercise the doggy" Miss Pringle reminded her two all too gloriously sexy naked companions, Deneel and Nulinda. "Let her go chase this little rubber-ring. I bought it specially. She'll love to run after it and, if you teach her right, she'll bring it back to you each time, time and time again"

We had not actually entered more than the front-door hallway of Miss Pringle's house when this conversation took place. I was still on my leash, wiggling along on all-fours, with Nulinda's lovely lithe slim tiptoe-torsion-tensioned-calved legs, adorably flashing their divine compelling completely sexy sexually arousing erotic way in front of my feasting eyes.

I longed for indeed all but prayed for rest. My bound legs were hurting from mild cramp and I was not used to using my pretty arms as if they were legs.

"Take her round to the back garden: you know the way", Miss Pringle instructed.

I had no choice other than to obey, and thus faithfully crawled on my "four legs" along the crazy-paving path that led to Miss Pringle's very large and very untidy and even more very overgrown back garden.

What a contrast this back garden was to the neatly trimmed span and spick front lawns with their grass green, a sprinkler scattering water droplets to keep them thus, and evident care taken to stripe them decoratively during frequent careful mowing.

There must be something wrong in Miss Pringle's domestic arrangements, perhaps even caused by a financial shortcoming, that she could not afford to keep all of her garden in the very commendably smart state it was in at the front of her home. It did not occur to me to think that this back garden of chaos weeds and abundant complex briar was an act of choice. I did not then know that Miss Pringle had wanted her rear garden to return to nature, and thus give the birds she adored their nesting and hunting grounds.

As I crawled along into Miss Pringle's back garden, I was also blissfully unaware of the resentment that had built up in the childish mind of the petulantly pouting pulchritudinous Nulinda.

Nulinda had resented being told-off by Miss Pringle for whipping my bummy with the tree-branch when we had stopped so that I could empty my bladder. She dare not show her petty annoyance to Miss Pringle, but she was determined to take her spite out on someone, and that someone was going to be me.

Unseen by Miss Pringle Deneel or I, Nulinda had taken a dog whip, made of tapering two-foot length black intertwining plaited leather strips, from Miss Pringle's entrance hallway, and had my superb thighs very much in her minds eye for this whip's curt kisses.

"You mustn't!" the stupefyingly lovely Deneel's perfect kiss-forming negress' lips called sweetly out to Nulinda, as Nulinda immediately walked me, still on my leash, purposely over to where tall thistles were growing.

"Don't you try and tell me what to do; you're not a teacher!" the fiery tempered Asian-Indian beauty responded tartly. Nulinda pulled hard on the collar around my neck as I momentarily tried to resist being made to crawl, as I was being, over to an outcrop of high healthy huge thistles Nulinda intended, fully clearly intended, to make me crawl through in my total nudity.

"Please don't hurt her, she was so gentle with me" Deneel pleaded, recalling our divine kiss in the Wicked Wench.

"Mind your own business Deneel! You're not even at the Academy anymore!" the vengeful foot-stamping so very pretty fifteen-year-old Nulinda pertinently pointed out, pert lips pouting petulantly, her beauty exceptionally enhanced by the fire flaming her veins: her smouldering resentment at being told what and what not to do having taken bright red flame, adding an extra-wide emphatic side-to-side pendulum wiggle to her perfect bummy as she stormed and tiptoe-stomped in her anger.

"So, mind your own business" Nulinda repeated.

"Come on you bitch!" Nulinda spat out at me, as I cried out with the pain when my lovely pendulous jiggling and joggling titanic titties were the first parts of my superbly schoolgirl smooth flesh to be pricked and scraped by the prickles on the thistles, followed by my belly and the insides of my folded legs tied tight at the ankles to my upper thighs.

"Please don't! You're hurting her!" Deneel pleaded hopelessly helplessly on my behalf.

"Shut up you ugly cow!" Nulinda shouted, before forcing me to crawl to and fro through the thistles twice more, staring defiantly, nostrils flared, mouth ready to show contempt with her tongue at the gentle Deneel as she, Nulinda, dragged me by my dog's collar through fresh thistles to purposely hurt me, and I cried out with moans, gasps, squeaks, and squawks with the pain of my naked body being prickled and pricked and scratched.

And strange things were happening to me as Nulinda forced me to degrade myself by crawling through the abundant fresh thistles. And my nipples showed that the attentions of the spiteful spike-ended fronds of the thistles to my sensitive girlbody had promoted a strange arousal in my innocent schoolgirl mind.

I was very young. I was very sexy. I was very sexual. I was very girl. And a peek at the peaks of my perky points provided pertinent pert proof I was prolifically powerfully provoked by Nulinda's pouting pique, and her purposely passing me through the painful thistles.

Deneel then tried to snatch my leash, and remove it from my dog's collar out of sympathy for my plight. She was to be more than a little surprised, therefore, at the strength with which the slim schoolgirl Nulinda pushed her to one side, and began to drag my perspiring pained body toward her next target for my torment and torture, and her petty petulant revenge on Miss Pringle through me.

Hauled cruelly by my leash and collar, I crawled with my naked schoolgirl soft body, being in my behaviour the obedient doggy, not least because I was highly turned on by my nipples being tortured by the thistles, some of the spikes of which were still penetrating my perky throbbing nubs. I was being forced to crawl, without hesitation, reservation, or resistance. Indeed I was moving at the nearest to top-doggy-speed I could manage to running, toward where I was being fully purposely dragged by Nulinda: a huge bed of fresh spring stinging nettles.

Deneel called out in horror for Nulinda to stop, but I was forced to be the obedient doggy and my cries of anguish and pleasure pain echoed in the silence of the garden as even the lovely wild birds stopped to listen to a wanton girl in the highest state of horny heat as she took the torture intended by Nulinda, as she, I that is, had my lovely breasts and their supremely sensitive nipples stung cruelly by the nettles that kissed my girlsoft flesh, as I obediently crawled, totally nude, completely naked, into their heady pain forewarning foreboding forbidding perfume.

I obediently crawled into the heady scent of the terrible stinging nettles, the insides of my arms, the front of my breasts, my glorious pointy pink nipples, and the insides of my bare thighs being stung and reddened, and become sore and painful as my lovely body reacted to the nettles using their defence mechanisms upon my gorgeous totally nude, completely naked unprotected flesh.

My pain only increased and seemed, after only milliseconds, to throb through me like mass pins-and-needles, and my pretty mouth gasped as I realised what I had enforcedly submitted myself to. And began to regret it, as a red rash spread over my beauty where the nettles had stung me so extensively, a rash from my rash run, a rash from my rush into the stinging hell, with horrible raised lumps that hurt and itched with parallel and combined intensity.

Meanwhile, Nulinda was beside herself with sexual arousal at torturing me this way. And so to add to and heighten her pleasure, she ordered me, by indicating with her index finger and pulling on my leash, to turn. And I turned in my full glorious huge-tied-thighed nakedness totally nude, completely naked in the stinging nettles, and I was stung on my breasts and my nipples and my belly and my thighs and my bound lower legs. And I cried out and girly-gasped with the pain. And Nulinda showed me the rubber ring I was to chase like the faithful doggy I was bound up as. And Nulinda ordered me to "sit" she commanded me "sit" and I sat, I squatted down with my rear and I yelped as my sex was stung. I yelped as my nude shaven naughty was stung by the stinging nettles.

And my cries were sexual as I was obedient to the letter of the instruction given me by the dainty Nulinda. And my love-lips were stung and swollen, and swelling as the venom of the nettles that had kissed my slit, urged my honey to flow to sooth my sex as it burned white-hot with the instant red rash that suffused my nude-shaven naughty naughty's naughty lips. And my honey flowed as I wiggled my bummy in the nettles so that I would be stung even more on and in my naughty. And it hurt, oh how it hurt, and oh how I loved its hurt! How I loved its hurt!! How I loved its hurt!!! And I wiggled my bummy purposely to have my love-lips stung afresh and then stung some more, and some more, and some more, and how I loved its hurt! How I loved its hurt!! How I loved its hurt!!!

And Nulinda unfastened my leash: Nulinda took off my dog lead and then threw the rubber ring she had been given by Miss Pringle for me to chase. And I ran out of the stinging nettles being stung the more on my lollipops as they swung and swayed uncontrollably freely in my nudity, and I wiggled, my body red with the stings I was enduring, with my naughty creaming cum-honey to sooth the vicious stings that had reddened its raw virgin shaven nakedness. And I ran-crawled to where the ring had landed. I ran on all-fours, the obedient doggy threatened by the dog-whip if I did not obey, but needing no beating to make me obey, to where the ring had landed: to where the ring had been deliberately thrown by Nulinda. And I ran headlong into the unforgiving ripping embrace of a massive tangle of brambles that grew thicker and more complex and more imprisoning of my nude body as I forced myself into the hell of its embrace, an embrace that grazed and scratched my superlatively baby-soft peach-soft girlskin, and tore at my breasts and spiked my nipples and ripped at my thighs.

And I forced myself into the brambles. Naked as the day I was born, totally nude, completely naked, I forced myself into the brambles. Naked as the day I was born but now a full-grown sexually awoken, sexually aware, sexually complete, sexually complex, sexually aroused schoolgirl, I crawled into the unmerciful brambles so that they closed around me and wrapped around me and bound me so it was impossible for me to be more embraced and impossible for me to go forward or backwards without my peachy skin being scratched and torn, I was so entangled in the briar. And I slowed and was forced to an irreversible halt.

My progress was slowed, and then unalterably halted, as the brambles wrapped me in an impossible imprisoning tangle. I was a naked schoolgirl wrapped in the multiple-tentacled multi-thorned tentacles of lascivious brambles that held my lovely body in their soft-girlskin tearing, painful multi-arms: an embrace of thorn-strewn tangled tentacles that had scratched my honey-soft skin and grazed, cut, and kissed me with cruelty, the cruelty with which I bled. My fabulous flesh was torn, my soft firm breasts scratched and grazed, my exquisite nipples bleeding. And I was caught in the vicious grip of the unyielding brambles cocooned in the embrace of the thorns of the tangling brambles.

And as I tried to back out, a vicious fallen bramble tentacle was suddenly dividing the lips of my naughty and spiking my outer and then also my inner love-lips. I cried out and screamed with the pain: and then the pleasure: the strange overpowering sexy sexual pleasure. Its thorns were kissing my super-soft super-sensitive outer and inner love-lips, and I was crying with the excruciating pain, tears of regret torrenting down from my innocently deeply enticing deeply blue eyes.

And yet I was coming. I was all-girl being reminded by my bleeding nipples and even more the thorns of the bramble splitting the tenderness of my girl-lips that I was absolutely girl, extremely girl, supremely girl. And I was wrapped in the brambles; I was tied in the brambles by the unyielding soft girlskin tearing briar. I was lacerated and bleeding. I was wounded and wound-round with the tentacles of the briar which scratched my pretty face as I suffered their impossible inescapable embrace; the cruel embrace that my sexually driven desire had forced me to obey the order from Nulinda that I drive my naked body into, the cruellest of cruel entanglements: I was the girl in the burning bush. I was afire with the fire of my desire suffering for Nulinda's ire.

And with my lovely arms, my beautiful legs, my exquisite breasts my supremely slim waist and even my pretty schoolgirl's soft complexioned angel's face caught inescapably immovably in the torturing tentacles and tearing thorns of the vicious briar ripping my naked flesh, I came. And as I closed my tear-filled eyes with the unendurable pain, as the thorned bramble splitting the lips of my honeypot, sworded and sawed-at my super-sensitive lubriciously saturated inner girl-lips, I came. And I howled like a hound with my cum as I worked my honey soaked naughty on the horrible spikes, the terrible tearing thorns parting my girl-lips. And I came and came and came, as I purposely wantonly masturbated my bleeding nettle-stung lip-sundered thorn-torn honeypot on the spikes of the bramble tentacle splitting my slit. And I anointed the flesh ripping briar with my blood and my girl-honey: my cum honey, screaming with pain and pleasure and pleasure and pain as I orgasmed; and orgasmed from having my orgasm; and orgasmed from my orgasm from my orgasm, and orgasmed from my orgasm from my orgasm at my orgasm ……..

………………

Nulinda had had her revenge on Miss Pringle through me. The petulant Asian-Indian fifteen-year-old had me wrapped in the incredible ramble of bramble, that the gentle Deneel, with sweet tears of love trickling from her dark-brown heaven's-window eyes, was now using pruning shears, held in hands protected by strong-garden-gloves to ward off the thorns, to snip the briar branches to free me from their cruel enraptured capture: collateral consequence of my compelling concupiscence.

Despite Nulinda's horrible rudeness to her, Deneel wanted to protect the Asian angel from the wrath of Miss Pringle who would be, she knew, or at least thought she could be sure, incandescent when she saw the state I was in.

But, in the end, there could be no hiding my stung and rash covered, torn and bleeding body from Miss Pringle, and Deneel was terrified that, as the older girl in charge over me, it would be she who received Miss Pringle's tongue lashing or lashings of a lashing with a different and far more painful lash.

There was no hiding my wounded state as I wiggled-in led by Deneel at the end of my leash, with Nulinda trying her hardest to look as if she were not there. As I crawled in my "four-legged" bondage to the rear entry to Miss Pringle's lovely home, I passed a wooden construction, like a miniature garden-hut with an open doorway and puzzled myself as to what such as the hutch this appeared to be was for.

In contrast to the fear of anger from her the two lovely girls escorting me had anticipated, Miss Pringle seemed unshocked by my scratches and grazes, merely instructing Deneel to bathe the doggy whilst asking Nulinda to help in the kitchen where a meal was to be prepared.

I was led crawling on my padded palms and knees, sweating and still feeling filthy from the animal way I had been forced to urinate and defecate, into a washroom where, in readiness for me, a large inflatable-rubber, children's paddling pool was ready. I was dragged in by my leash, my collar was removed, and I had the highly sexually charged honour and deep pleasure of having my girl-sensitive body bathed by the supremely sexy negress Deneel.

Try as I might, I could not control the sighs and cries that the flow of Deneel's lovely hands bearing a sponge of white soap bubbles over my bare body caused me to emit. I wanted to show how I loved Deneel's tenderness, and how I could still taste her kiss and was not so chaste as to not to want to chase her for more.

I tried so hard to tell her with my eyes and my sighs as she soaped my thighs that my cries were for her and she could have me. But Deneel simply kissed my forehead and told me I was adorable. Deneel's shapely arched back was still recovering from the last whipping she had endured at the hands of Miss Pringle, the whipping Deneel had had to be given to break her, and make her cry and bleed, so her girl-tears and her fresh-blood could be two of the fluids used to found the making of Maiden Mead. Deneel had a strong will and had resisted crying until the second lash.

The memory of the pain and how Miss Pringle had denied her an orgasm by dousing with ice the fire in her menstruating minx, brought on by her scourging, still horrified Deneel who had no desire for an early reprise. Deneel knew she would be whipped by Miss Pringle if she dared to touch me in any sexual way. So, even I could not tempt the temptress negress.

Then Deneel's soaking soaping stroking of my sopping body to wash me of the thorns and prickles that had scratched torn and tauntingly tormented me, stopped as both our ears pricked up at the sound we could hear from next door to where I was being doggy bathed.

"No!!" came the unmistakable pretty sound of the soprano Nulinda.

Then followed the steady "slap, slap, slap" of the percussive pandying of a perfect pert bummy, mingled with Nulinda's cries of shock and pain as the blows repetitiously rained unstoppably: bare hand baring down on bared bummy.

"You will learn to do as you are told!" Miss Pringle could be heard to say measuredly calmly followed by Nulinda's petulant: "No!!" followed by more smacks followed by Nulinda's crying "Oh!" and more smacks followed by Nulinda's pleas, and more smacks followed by Nulinda's "Please!" and more smacks followed by Nulinda's sexy sighs, and more smacks followed by Nulinda's cries, as the fifteen-year-old little girl uninhibitedly orgasmed.

Nulinda's very youngness made her sexually afire at the very first smack on her bare bummy, and she knew no inhibition, being almost more child that grown-up, so that her body and mind were as one in the experience of the pain-pleasure continuum, and she was without constraint in kicking her pretty legs as she was smacked, and had no control of her girl-juice as her innocent pure animality caused her naughty to pour forth copious cunt cream unrestrainedly. At her first of twenty smacks Nulinda had immediately orgasmed, and she had orgasmed twenty times all told more strongly each time, she was so sexed, she was so sexy, she was so sexual, she was so young, she was so innocent, she was so girl.

My own slit wetted and whetted and keened as I heard Nulinda's deeply sexual sighs and cries. And my ears had pricked up too, as I had heard an unmistakable barking and yapping, in protest from a dog seeing a pretty girl being smacked on her bare bummy. My ears pricked up because I knew it must be Benji. My adorable pet Alsatian Benji was here and I could hear him so near barking at Miss Pringle to try and stop her spanking the delicious fiery feline Nulinda.

At last I would have a reminder of home. My lovely loved and loving pet had arrived to spend the holiday with me. Even as I listened to Benji's baritone barking, I realised he was no longer the puppy mummy and daddy had given me as a surprise present. I longed to see him and see for myself how he must have grown. Benji was here! Hurray! Benji was here and my loneliness was at an end!!

I was being towelled dry by the negress nubile Deneel as I fought not to show my excitement at the chance to see my pet doggy once more. I feared disappointment. I was indeed to be disappointed. Deneel replaced my collar, attached a chain and led me out of the back of Miss Pringle's home.

We were outside near the little wooden hut, as Deneel instructed: "You must go into your kennel"

Realisation then dawned. This was a kennel. This wooden hut was my kennel. I was to be treated like a dog even to the degree of having to sleep in a kennel!

Perhaps it was because I was so tired that I obeyed and backed myself into the hut hutch kennel, my kennel, so unprotestingly. Perhaps it was because I was so tired that tears started in my eyes at this latest humiliation, as Deneel hooked my chain to the outside front of the kennel, my kennel, and placed two feeding bowls on the ground before me: one bowl containing cold water, and the other, disgusting smelly meat.

As I knelt on all doggy-bound four legs, Deneel's sweet scented body knelt beside me momentarily.

"Forgive me sweetheart", she whispered, and she then stood and I watched her glorious ivory dance-muscular tiptoe-topped legs, as she wiggled away to leave me for the night.

I was so very tired, that I lowered myself down, so I lay with my bound up "rear" legs front of thighs on the hard wooden floor of the kennel, and my upper body crushing the miraculous firm soft natural cushions a girl is provided with, my huge breasts, hard onto my chest.

It was extremely uncomfortable, but I fell asleep and awoke with no recollection of having fallen into slumber. I fell asleep in the fading light. I awoke in the dark of the night, cold, hungry, stiff, weary, and aware that an unpleasant cycle had made its natural arrival: it was that time of the month: I was menstruating.

I felt so wretched as I began to trickle red, and to compound my misery a flash of lightening was followed by a crack of thunder and tumultuous heavy rain poured hard down, bouncing diagonally up from the ground multi-directionally, and soaking my exposed head: the exposed head of a bitch on heat.

I backed into my kennel as far as my chain would let me, and it would only let me shelter fully from the rain if I stood on all-fours as I now must for as long as the rain might choose to last.

…………….

I had licked water from my over-spilling bowl but could not face the stinking meat. I was therefore glad of the scraps that Miss Pringle threw on her kitchen floor to make me humble myself my licking them up with my pretty tongue and lovely lips.

I had already undergone the humiliation of being taken for a morning walk by Nulinda pouting and sulking and hating me in a teenage fury. I had had to urinate and defecate as a doggy bitch must, but that was nothing compared to the hideous discomfort of being totally naked as my body moved fully into its monthly cycle and my slit seeped.

My slit was now my wound. I bled like a girl must. I bled like a girl. My bleeding confirmed I was a girl. I bled for my girlness. I bled for my beauty. My tenderness and love invoking bleeding, made me profoundly beautiful. My bleeding confirmed my cyclic fertility. My bleeding announced I was ripe for reproduction. My bleeding wound refreshed my fecundity. That my slit could bleed in this ultra-feminine way confirmed I was girl.

I was given no aid to absorb my flow. I seeped red. I seeped red-heat abundantly from my shaven naughty. And I was given no aid to soak the flow. I must be natural girl. I must be natural doggy. I must be natural bitch. And so I must seep red throughout the hot-high of my cycle. With no ministering to my monthly menses, I was to leak like the uncaulked boards of a boat caught in the fury of the tempest: the "unstanched wench".

I felt hot and miserable. I longed for my torture to stop. There was no other word than torture for the way I was bound up. Perhaps now I was so clearly having my period, they would unbind my legs and let me be human once more. This I thought: that I thought wrong.

"I have guests this afternoon. I want you to bathe the doggy so she is fit to be among my guests" Miss Pringle instructed.

My bathing this time was to include the incredible full-length hair that was still wound up in now untidy plaited coils at my ears.

Never was a doggy bath so refreshing, even if I did turn the water red. But I felt no pleasure at being girlhandled by Deneel and Nulinda both. I just felt hot tearful tired and wretched.

It took an endless age to wash comb and brush my hair and wind it back into the coils of corn-coloured-blonde plaits that had all the appearance of being my doggy ears. But it was done, and I was put back in my kennel listening to the arrivals at the front of the house as any number of women arrived and were greeted in turn or in group by Miss Pringle.

Wretched as I was though, I could not but react to the sexy sight of Nulinda and Deneel as they came a while later to fetch me, for both lovely girls were dressed as maids.

Both wore flared-out "French-Maid" dresses, with frilly aprons, suspenders and stockings, and, quite blatantly obviously, no panties. But what caught the eye was that these two stupendously too stupendously lovely sexy girls, were dressed like photograph and negative.

Nulinda's light brown black-haired sensual sexy fifteen-year-old girl-woman's flawless loveliness was enhanced by her wearing a black maid's dress, with her gorgeous slim legs displayed in black net stockings held up by the visible suspenders that stretched their tops but left dreamy creamy brown thigh on display below the shadow between her thighs where her black-haired naughty was openly exposed for the delight of the eye.

By supreme contrast, Deneel, the black beauty with her curled coils of coiffure, wore the same, but with a dress and net stockings of white and an apron of black: Dennel's quim being, of course, open and exposed bald and bare, having been depilated since the days of her being the School Slag at St Cath's.

Both girls were naturally firm of bosom, but both must have been wearing a quarter cup brassiere, or some other aid to their natural pre-eminence, as both displayed wonderful prominent protuberances, perkily pushed out, roundly smoothly heaving heavenly soft firm breasts, and abundant cleavage, proudly proving they were undoubtedly girls.

Both also wore identical shoes. Eight-inch heeled delights, with slim strong ankles decorated by broad straps: Nulinda's in black patent leather, and Deneel's in white.

I was unchained and fitted with my leash by Deneel, who now led me to the gathering where I could hear the clamour of inconsequential chatter as girls and women caught up with the latest happenings at St Catherine's Academy, fascinated by the tales headmistress Amelia Pringle could tell them, and waited upon by the two lovely "French Maids" who had now come to fetch me.

My nerves were a mass of massive tingles as I wiggled along on the end of my leash. What would these women know: no: what could these women think of me? I longed to hide myself, but could not help but be dragged inexorably along at the end of my lead.

I was terrified as I was taken, and my leash untied, leaving me stranded standing on my "four feet" in the middle of the room. And yet I was being ignored. Here was I, a sensuously sense-stunning sexy stripped sixteen-year-old schoolgirl, with strawberry teats tipping my monumental mammaries, my devastating half-moon demisphere rear, my sigh-making heart-aching fabulous thighs, my angelic innocent's face, and I was not, at least not apparently, even being noticed as I crawled bound like a doggy-bitch among Miss Pringle's guests.

So prickly and sensitive was I in my on-heat state however, that even though to be totally ignored had been my one most devout and prayed-for wish as I had been made to crawl into that room; to be ignored now I was in the room was deeply hurtful. I was girl and what I wanted I did not really want when I could have it, and what I had I did not really want because I had already got it.

Then Benji came around from behind a settee, stretched out his front paws, lifting his rear, his tail up like a periscope, and yawned with a little lolled tongue: a yawn ascending to a yelp.

It was Benji! It was my pet! It was my lovely loveable Alsatian! Even in my misery I had a friend and I wiggled over to snuggle to his muzzle and remind him of our fun in the park near our home, the home of my parents back south near London.

By his instant reaction, Benji had not, as I feared he might have, Benji had not forgotten me, and he licked my face joyously, stopping only occasionally to sniff the air.

I was careful to ensure I was still not being particularly looked at by the guests, as I whispered in his ear: "Benji! Oh you adorable…Benji!" and Benji licked my face all over profusely and with unapologetic unselfconscious uninhibited doggy joy.

Stopping only to sniff the air. Benji yapped his joy at rediscovering his mistress, and my eyes filled with tears of innocent happiness as he danced around before me, wagging his tail wildly, thrashing all and everything and everyone in sight, wagging his rudder and snuffling the air and licking my face.

But then what was this? Benji was going around behind me as I stood on my all-fours. Benji was going around behind me his nose quivering. And Benji was around behind me and his head was between my bound-up legs. And "No Benji! No!!" I shouted out loud, silencing the chatter and the clatter of teacups for a split second before they both, the chatter and the clatter, and the clatter and the chatter began again, as if nothing untoward or surprising in the least was going on.

"Nooooo Benji! Noooo!!" I cried once more, but this time it caused no disturbance and nobody was in the least concerned that my own pet dog, Benji, was licking my nude love lips because he wanted to taste my hot menses. And my blood, the blood from the high-heat pinnacle of my cycle seeping from my slit, was turning him on.

The message of my menses to Benji as he massaged my naughty with his eager licks was that this was a bitch on receptive heat.

"No Benji! No!!" I cried helplessly tearfully yet again, but my lovely pet's licking tongue had parted my nether lips and was lapping at my inner lips and I was loving his loving. "No Benji! No!!" I sighed as he rose on his back legs with his paws on my bare back. "No Benji! No!!" "No Benji! No!!" "No Benji! No!!" "No Benji! No!!" "No Benji! No!!" I gasped and begged and panted breathlessly, with desire inspired, as his erect penis sought my seeping naughty. And a split second later he was in my inner innocence, and in my innocence I was being shagged, I was being fucked. My own pet dog was shagging and fucking me.

And a split second later still, he was out of me, and I cried out with frustration that he had begun what he had begun and not finished what he had not finished, and I had been mounted and surmounted, taken but forsaken. He had aroused me and now frustrated me, and I wanted him to have me; I wanted him to shag me; I wanted Benji, my pet Alsatian, to fuck me. I wanted his cock in my cunt. I wanted him to tail his mistress. I wanted him to divide my shaven slavering slippery slattern's slit. I wanted his shaft in my sheath. I wanted his sword in my scabbard. I wanted him to shag me and shoot his creamy cum in my cunt. He could fuck my bummy! Would he like to fuck my bummy? Please fuck my bummy! Oh Benji, oh Benji please fuck me. Oh god, Benji, fuck me!! Fuck me!! Fuck me!! Fuck me!! Fuck meeeeeeee!! I screamed inside my head, and with my voluminously vocal girly squeaks and heavy heaving sighs.

But Benji had tasted all he wanted to taste and wandered off leaving me openly crying, tears streaming in depraved deprivation, desiring the return of the split-seconds of my slit being split, the microseconds of physical love, the physical sundering and plundering that my body was created for and craved.

And I, the craven deprived depraved cur, cried and cried as my cunt-fire cooled: desire unsated; arid; my eager furrow unploughed; unseeded; unsown; fallow; waiting; wanting; wasted; deserted; begging; hopeless; the lover lost to her lust: her lust lost on a lover left, and thus left loveless and listless, forlorn and lovelorn…….

……And the chatter of voices and the clatter of tea-cups…………

and the clatter of voices and the chatter of tea-cups………..

……and the tea-cups' clatter and the voices' chatter …………

………went on all around the room betwixt Miss Pringle and her guests, as if nothing had happened: as indeed for still powerfully passionately panting pulchritudinous poor maiden me, nothing had, save a "something nothing", amounting to less than a "nothing nothing". By my being had, and not had, I had been divided and ruled; but I had been sundered; not plundered: so I wept and wept and wept for want: wanton for want, wanton for more, wanting more, craving more, crazy for more, craven from less, sobbing from excess, excess of less, frozen frigid from fierce fiery fulminating frustration.