(It was late autumn of 1960 and I, David Shaw, was 20 years old and was following my hobby of bird watching. I had unfortunately been detained by Amelia Wiff-Naseford, headmistress, for being an alleged 'Peeping Tom' in the grounds of 'Dentwood Finishing School for Tall Girls aged 18 to 20 years old'. There were 120 girls registered at the school. Clearly I was not a so called 'pervert' but I could not prove it.
I had decided not to get the police involved by agreeing to submit myself to the traditional 'Punishment Rules of the School' as applied to Peeping Toms. This involved being stripped naked and spread-eagled on the headmistress' study carpet, and fettered with ropes and leather straps to metal rings set in floorboards. I was then required to orally pleasure the 'whole' school. This is part ten of my tale.)
*
Behind me I could hear the thud of high heels on the carpeted dressing room floor.
"What the hell has been going on here?" bellowed Miss Amelia Wiff-Naseford standing in the doorway.
"I, I can, err, can explain," I stammered to her, reverting back to my somewhat pathetic puppy-dog self.
"I can clearly see what has happened; you have just deflowered the daughter of the French Ambassador to the UK, Monsieur Jean-Paul Barbier. Who the hell do you think you are 'Mr. Perverted Peeping Tom'? This could ruin the reputation of the school you bloody idiot. What the hell is going on here? I gave no one permission to loiter in the shower changing rooms after dressing and certainly did not allow permission for sexual intercourse. Now get back to your dormitory, all of you, and do your homework."
Miss Wiff-Naseford dismissed the French girls making up Class 1B. I threw the urine-sodden knickers which Angelique had draped over my face towards Miss Brongniart. She picked them up and walked out with them grinning at me.
The French Ambassador's daughter stood up and wiped her semen dripping crotch with her knickers and hobbled out, still reeling from my intensive rodgering. They left the shower room dressing area and I was left alone with the insane head teacher.
"Under my skirt Tom, give me a proper orgasm, immediately," screamed the mad bitch of a headmistress raising her grey tweed skirt and petticoat to waist level.
"I will only feel better if you make me 'come' between my legs, now get on with it lad."
I knelt in front of her as she dropped her heavy tweed pleats over me and shook them down again. I worked my head up the narrow space between her thighs and petticoat. I could tell she was sexually aroused.
The stink from her cunt appeared far more intense than the eighteen-year olds I had orally serviced recently. Clearly Miss Wiff-Naseford was a formidable character especially when 'on-heat'. Her odour was sickly sweet and filled my nostrils with the smell of ripe ammonia and savoury primitive smells. I was intoxicated by her pheromones and breathed in her mature and distinctive natural scent.
I could not express clearly how I felt but suddenly began to appreciate my nose being pushed into the head teachers dribbling orifice. She had a fierce bouquet between her legs which had a primeval animal attraction.