Schoolgirl Domme Ch 02

I did go back the next morning. And it was strange. Belinda's mum opened the door, friendly as she always was, and showed me into the sitting room where Fran and Belinda were sitting. Belinda had a pad on her knees and was taking notes while Fran talked about Jane Eyre. Nothing unusual about the scene except that Belinda was sitting exactly where Fran – Trixie – and I had fucked each other senseless with a double-ended dildo only a few hours earlier.

"Can I get you a tea or a coffee, Louise?" Belinda's mum asked. I sat down on the sofa next to Belinda and her mum brought in a tray of mugs and a plate of biscuits. Then she went into the kitchen and I took everything in. The room looked different in daylight, but then most rooms do. Fran looked bright and cheerful. She was wearing jeans and a white t-shirt, I noticed, with an orange scarf tied tightly round her neck with a big knot at the side. Very attractive, but I could just see the leather collar she was wearing underneath it. She looked at me and met my gaze: for just a fraction of a second she seemed to be acknowledging that I Knew but warning me not to say anything.

So we settled to talking about Charlotte Bronte's use of imagery and different readings of the mad Mrs Rochester in the attic and for a time I found I could forget everything that had happened. Even Fran's clothes came just to be a rather smart outfit she had chosen to wear. Then Belinda's mum came in to offer us refills and I found myself wondering: what, if anything, did she know about what Belinda and the rest of us had got up to? Belinda and Fran had been having sex for three months and they had obviously done it here a few times – Fran clearly knew her way round the flat, even where the sex toys were kept. Surely Belinda's mum must know? And where had she been so conveniently last night, but was obviously back again nice and early this morning? Was she going to be conveniently out tonight as well? Or maybe she genuinely didn't know what Belinda was up to. Young people always tend to think they invented sex in all its forms and it just seemed impossible to me that Mrs Stokes could have any idea of what her daughter was into. I found myself admiring Belinda's ingenuity in keeping it from her mother – until I dropped my pen. It had fallen into the magazine rack next to the sofa where I was sitting, and as I picked it up I noticed them: there, next to the Radio Times and Good Housekeeping, were the porn mags, Color Climax and New Cunts. There was no attempt to hide them. Belinda's mum must have seen them, must know about them. It suddenly hit me – what if they actually were hers? Surely not...

I found myself looking again at Mrs Stokes. She was in her forties, I suppose, a good looking woman, with dark hair in a bob and wearing a sweatshirt and jeans that rather suited her. I knew she and Belinda's dad were divorced; what exactly was the relationship between her and her daughter? Enough: I had to concentrate on Charlotte Bronte. Mrs Stokes would keep: she didn't have A levels to pass.

* * *

It was getting late. I was still sitting on my bed, thinking back to all that had happened that crazy summer. How did I feel about it now, twelve years on? I smiled. It had turned my world upside down, no question, but God, it had been good. I wouldn't have changed any of it – not for the world. I went back to the mirror. Why did I find the sight of myself in school uniform such a turn on? I always had done, even when I wore it for real. I undid the skirt and let it fall down my legs, just as I had done that night for Trixie. Fuck, but that looked good. A schoolgirl showing her knickers and her stockings. Oh yes, I would fuck her, that girl in the mirror, no question. Well, OK, if I was going to have a sexy time on my own tonight, ready for what tomorrow night would bring, then I'd do it properly.

First I switched on my laptop. My own one, not the one issued by the school. While it was warming up, I looked out my dildo. I sat at the computer, switched my dildo on to the lowest level of vibrating and ran it gently over my cunt. Mmmm – that's always lovely. Then I looked up the sort of porn I always like – gay porn. I loved it. I loved to see those twinks – I was only ever really interested in them, not the older guys – sucking each others' cocks. They seemed to do it more gently and more expertly than the women you see, who always seem to twist the cock with their hands, as if they need to screw it into place in their mouths. Of course, I look out the sites which show them in their school uniforms – lovely white shirts and ties so beautifully loose. But best of all is when you see the boys kissing ... fuck me, that looks good.

I went onto a gay porn search engine and found a site that looked promising: Horny Twink College. Soon I was feeling deliciously horny and turned my dildo up a level. Oh yes – that was very good. Too good, maybe – I was wanting to cum. But I didn't want that just yet. Right. Time for the best bit. I stood up and slipped off my blazer – no need to ruin that. I slipped off my stockings and knickers. Still in my white shirt and my school tie I paused in front of the mirror. I slipped the dildo inside my cunt – it felt wonderful. I wanted to do it now. I went into the bathroom, stepped into the shower, closed the door behind me, and savoured the delicious moment as you stand in shirt and tie under the shower head. The feeling as the jet of water hits you is one of the most intensely erotic sensations I know. I couldn't wait any longer. Feeling deliciously naughty I put my hand to the shower and switched it on. And this slutty, filthy schoolgirl in her school shirt and tie was delightfully, sexily and so erotically soaked.

* * *

Of course the evening came in the end. After the tutorial in the morning I'd stayed in town, had lunch in a café and mooched around the shops, trying to keep my mind off the evening. Eventually it was time to go home and get ready. I knew I needed to wear my uniform again, but this time I somehow didn't want to travel in it. So I disguised it: wore a denim jacket over my white blouse and kept my blazer, skirt and tie in a bag. Maybe I had a sense of what was going to happen tonight and felt the need to approach it with caution. I was nervous going up the stairs to Belinda's flat, afraid of what she would say. But when she opened the door she was in sweatshirt and jeans, just like her mother that morning.

"I'm sorry", I said, before she could say anything: "I didn't have time to change. Can I change here?"

"Hi. Come on in", she said. "Fran's not here yet. Take your time. Do you want a shower first?"

"I just need to get changed. I've got everything here."

"OK. You can change in my bedroom. I'll need to get changed too."

I knew where her bedroom was. As I made my way down the short corridor, I noticed a door open. It was another bedroom – her mother's presumably. I hardly noticed it out of the corner of my eye, but something made me stop and look in. The bedroom was a bit of a mess, to be honest – why did I think only teenagers' bedrooms get messy? – but what caught my eye was something laid out on the bed. It was a black leather corset. It looked as if it had been bought in a sex shop. It probably had.

Mrs Stokes, eh? Well well...

I went into Belinda's bedroom and got changed. I put the tie on, loosely this time so I looked like a naughty schoolgirl right from the start. I slipped off my jeans and took out my sports skirt – I'd brought it because it was much shorter than the normal school skirt and showed off more thigh. I already had my hold-up stockings on, so the overall effect was of just the sort of schoolgirl slut I wanted to be. Belinda came in.

"Oh yes," she said, looking me over, "just right. Totally fuckable. Louise, you are one horny slut, you know? Come here: I want to kiss you." She gave me a lingering kiss on the lips, then pulled away. "I need to get changed now. You go and wait in the sitting room. Do you mind letting Fran in when she comes? Help yourself to the wine."

I was being ushered out of the room: she obviously had a surprise she wanted to spring on us. As I closed the door behind me, I noticed Belinda getting something out of her wardrobe and I waited to see what it was. A black leather corset. The same one? As I went back to the sitting room I glanced in at Mrs Stokes's room. No: the other corset was still there. Like mother, like daughter, eh? I was surprised and actually rather shocked at Mrs Stokes.

I went through to the sitting room and poured myself a glass of wine, feeling a bit awkward, like when you arrive too early at a fancy dress party and aren't too sure you've got the right day. I picked up the porn mags and started leafing through them, just to put me in the mood, but I'd hardly started when the doorbell rang and I got up to open it. It was Fran.

"Hi, Louise."

"Fran –" I gasped. She looked absolutely gorgeous in a very stylish white shirt and black waistcoat combination with her leather collar round her neck, clearly visible this time. I was so taken with her outfit that I just stared for a moment.

"Can I come in?" she asked, smiling.

"Sorry. Yes, of course. Belinda's just getting ready," I managed, when speech came back. "You look amazing."

"You look pretty good yourself." And she came up to me, put her finger playfully on the end of my nose and gave me a kiss. I kissed her back.

"Would you like a glass of wine?"

"I'd love one."

I poured her a glass and we sat down. It was impossible not to notice the mags open on the coffee table. She picked one and glanced at it, then put it down and looked at me.

"You came back, then?"

"Yes, I came back."

"I was a bit worried in case last night was a bit too much for you. All at once."

"No need to worry," I said, entirely truthfully: "It was amazing. I loved every minute of if."

"You're quite sure?" Fran was obviously concerned for me.

"Quite sure." Then I paused. "There's just one thing. Do you mind if I ask?"

"Go ahead."

"The spanking. I've never actually seen it before."

"You didn't just see it, Louise. You did it."

"I know. And – and, I liked it."

"That's good. There's nothing to be ashamed or worried about, believe me."

"But I don't really understand it. Doesn't it hurt?"

"You bet it hurts. That's the idea."

"So why do you like it?"

"Well -" Fran was obviously giving her answer some thought. "Firstly, I find pain sexy. Not all of it, of course, but some pain I find very erotic. Pain to my bum for example. I hurts like hell when it's happening –"

"When you're being spanked?" I said, to make sure. But really because I wanted to say the word.

"Yes, when I'm being spanked. But at the same time, the humiliation is very arousing. And after a while, my bum sort of glows and this gorgeous warm feeling runs through my whole body."

"So it turns you on?"

"Oh yes. Weren't you turned on when you were spanking me last night?"

"Yes, I was. But I thought that was because of you being a teacher. It's a very sexy situation, isn't it, a student spanking her teacher?"

"Louise, it's one of the sexiest situations there is. Up there with finger fucking your teacher's arse and fucking her with a double-ended dildo."

I smiled. "Yes, I guess it is."

"Do you want to try it tonight? Being spanked?"

"I don't know. I didn't think I could. If I enjoyed spanking you, I mean."

"Of course you can. Louise, all of us have a dominant side and a submissive side. Some people have them more or less in balance, others – me, for instance – are very obviously tilted to one side or the other. It doesn't mean I can't be dominant, of course –"

"You're pretty dominant at school."

"Am I? That's good to know. But in sex, I mean, I can be dominant if need be. Do you know, when Belinda and I started, I used to spank her. But I've always known that what I crave is to submit, to surrender completely to someone who will take charge of me. And allowing someone to spank you is the ultimate surrender."

"Don't you mind surrendering? Giving yourself up like that?"

"Mind? Darling, it's the ultimate release. It's like a liberation. I hand myself and all my worries, all my failings, to someone else. I'm not being silly – I feel more free when I'm serving Belinda as her slave than in any other part of my life."

"Why do you take a different name?"

"It's just something we developed. When I become Belinda's slave, when I go into the zone, it's as if –"

"You become a different person?"

"Not quite. It's more that part of me that's usually hidden or repressed comes to the fore and takes over. And we call her Trixie."

The she looked me in the eye and asked, "Would you like to be spanked tonight?"

I didn't know what to say.

"I'll do it if you like. I'll be gentle. If it will make it easier for you."

"Won't it hurt?"

"Oh yes. It has to hurt, otherwise it's not a spanking, it's just a game, pretending to spank. A spanking has to hurt. But it doesn't have to hurt immediately. We can build up to it. And if it's really too much for you or it's not what you want, we can have a safe word. You choose one. Anything you like: marshmallow, wheelbarrow, Victoria Station – it's best not to have anything sexual, to avoid confusion. You say the word and it means you're coming out of role, you're not happy and you want it to stop. And I'll stop."

" I see."

"But only if you want to."

I thought for a moment, and then I said it:

"Yes, I think I do want to. I think I want to very much."

And then Belinda came into the room.

Another heart-stopping outfit: I wasn't sure how much more of this I could take. She was in equestrian gear, white shirt, jodhpurs and boots – needless to say, Belinda went horse riding – but she had her black leather corset on over the top. And her riding crop in her hand. We both looked up at her, speechless.

But because I had seen her corset it did briefly occur to me to wonder how she had managed to tie it up at the back on her own.

She was in role from the start. Without a word she walked slowly into the room, holding us both with her eye. She looked at Fran, stopped and raised her eyebrows just a fraction. Maybe Fran hesitated or maybe she wasn't quick enough for Belinda's liking, but Belinda suddenly whacked the riding crop against her boot. Fran stood up, guiltily. I just sat and watched, my heart in my mouth. I had never seen Belinda so strong, so masterful – so scary. She walked towards Fran and put her riding crop under Fran's chin, lifting it up as if she was a guard and Fran was her prisoner. Still she didn't speak, and Fran looked too frightened to say anything. Then, still acting like a guard, Belinda reached for a chain that was hanging from her belt and attached it to the collar round Fran's neck. It was a moment of ownership; Belinda was claiming Fran as her property, like a dog. Belinda turned her back and walked back across the room; Fran had to follow. Suddenly Belinda whipped round, whacked her riding crop against her boot again and barked out, "Kneel, you fucking slut!"

Fran collapsed completely to her knees, like a building being demolished. And as she knelt there, I saw again the signs as Trixie emerged from within her and took her place. It was Trixie who now spoke.

"Thank you, Mistress."

"Lick my boots, you whore."

And Trixie lay herself flat on the floor, opened her mouth and began to lick Belinda's riding boots. Licking first the left boot, then the right. Long licks, as if she was licking an ice cream. She closed her eyes, as if she was in ecstasy. She was licking up each boot now. Every now and again Belinda pulled roughly on the chain; Trixie kept licking. I watched, fascinated. I felt such a mixture of feelings: I was awed by Belinda's power, still rather shocked by Fran's – yes, Fran's – complete subjection to her, and so strongly drawn to Trixie. I found Trixie's adoration of Belinda – because that's what it was – both sexy and enviable. I knew I wanted it: I wanted to give myself completely, utterly, just as Trixie was doing.

It must have been obvious in my face, because Belinda spoke to me. "What about you, you fucking schoolgirl slut? You want to do it too?"

I was too taken aback at the way Belinda spoke to me to reply. I just shook my head and shrank back into the sofa.

"Oh yes, you do," she said, sneering.

"No. Honestly, I don't."

"Get on your knees, you slut, crawl over here and lick my boots."

"Honestly, Belinda – "

"DO IT!!"

And I did. I slid off the sofa and crawled over the floor to her feet and lay there, next to Trixie.

"Lick them, you fucking slut."

I looked up at Belinda, my face pleading with her not to do this to me. And she said the words, smiling, almost kindly:

"You know you want to."

That was it. I did want to. I desperately wanted to. I wanted to lick her boots and kiss her feet and do anything else she told me to. I wanted to worship her. And now she was allowing me to. Those words were my moment of surrender. From that moment on, I was Belinda's slave: I would surrender my will to her totally, do anything she told me, humiliate myself for her. As long as she let me do this. I leaned my head forward and licked her boot.

Yes, boot leather has a taste. No, it is not nice. No, I did not learn to like it. I hated it. I wanted to spit it out at every lick. I would rather have kissed her boots than lick them. But that would have been too easy. There was no surrender, so subservience in that. It had to be this way. I had to lick them. So I did. Both of them. All the way round each and right up to the top.

She didn't ask us to lick the soles. Keep that for the lifestyle dommes or for erotic fiction: we were all friends here and Belinda was bonding us to her. As I now realise. There was no need to overdo it.

Eventually she told us to stop. And Trixie spoke.

"Please, Mistress."

"Did you speak, whore?"

"Yes, Mistress."

SLAP!! Belinda slapped Trixie's cheek.

"Well, don't speak without permission."

"I'm sorry, Mistress. Thank you for punishing me, Mistress. I require discipline from you Mistress."

"Too right you do, Teacher Whore. I'm going to spank you so hard you won't sit down at school for a week."

"Thank you, Mistress. It is what your slave needs and craves."

Belinda relented. "What were you going to say, anyway?"

"I was going to say, Mistress – with your permission – "

"I just gave it, didn't I?" SLAP!!

"Thank you, Mistress. I am sorry I am such a worthless fucking slut, Mistress. I was going to say that Louise here, before you came in, expressed a desire to be spanked. I took the liberty of saying that I could spank her first, to get her into the feel of it. If that meets with your approval, of course, Mistress."

"Spank Louise, eh? Well, well. Come here, you schoolgirl slut."

I had been listening with a mixture of anxiety and excitement. Talking with Fran about being spanked had been quite exciting – I really liked saying the word "spank" – but now it was going to happen for real. Would Belinda feel bound by Fran's assurances? Or would she take over herself? I wasn't sure how I felt about that.

"So you want to be spanked, do you, slut?"

"Yes – er – Mistress?"

It seemed so strange calling my friend "Mistress". We sat in class together, for heaven's sake.

"You know, I think I want you to call me Miss. All right?"

"Yes, Miss." Now Belinda was like my teacher and I was her schoolgirl. I smiled: this was perfect.

"Yes, you look the sort of nasty little brat who needs to be spanked. Are you a nasty little brat?"

"Yes, Miss."

"What are you?"

"I'm a nasty fucking little brat and I need to be spanked, Miss. Please spank me."

God, I loved saying those words.

"Oh, I'll spank you all right. But I think we'll start as Trixie suggests. Trixie, sit on the sofa. Louise, lay yourself over her lap."