Clara Pennywhistle dithered in front of her wardrobe. What should she wear to her meeting with the headmistress? And what could Mrs Castlewick want with her? Although she supposed that since earlier that day she had sucked the stablehand's semen off Mrs Castlewick's breasts, it probably wasn't to discuss her needlework.
In the end she decided on her red silk underwear (a present from her papa after a trip to Italy) with a simple pale green dress over the usual assortment of petticoats and slips. Satisfied, she hurried down to join the girls at supper. Mrs Castlewick had required her presence after the evening meal.
Sitting with the other young women in the dining hall and listening to their excited chatter about the day's lesson, she felt a pang of jealousy. She really did wish that she could enjoy the lessons as much as they seemed to, but the thought of congress with a man was something she just couldn't get excited about. Perhaps Mrs Castlewick would have some answers.
Once supper was over, Clara hurried along the corridor and up a short flight of stairs to the solid wooden door that marked the entrance to the headmistress's drawing room. She was a little nervous - Mrs Castlewick could be an intimidating character, especially with girls with whom she was displeased - and Clara knew that she was not the most diligent student. She drew in a breath and rapped on the door.
"Enter," came a stern voice from within the room, and Clara turned the handle. The hinges creaked as she pushed the door open and stepped into the room. The drawing room was large and well appointed. Heavy curtains covered the windows, and a fire crackled and snapped in the hearth.
"Ah, Miss Pennywhistle. Please sit. I shall just be a moment." Mrs Castlewick was seated in an armchair, working at her needlepoint. Clara sat in a simple chair facing the headmistress and regarded the older woman.
Mrs Castlewick had her greying hair pulled back into her usual rather severe bun. She wore a slightly old-fashioned black dress, but even with its unflattering cut it couldn't hide the size of the breasts that lay beneath it. Clara had a momentary flashback to that morning, when she had licked them clean of Fletcher's man milk. Her heart caught a beat and she felt a small throb between her legs.
"Thank you for your patience, Miss Pennywhistle," said Mrs Castlewick putting her work onto a side table and fixing Clara with an appraising gaze from over the top of her spectacles. "I shall come straight to the point. I have noticed since your arrival that you are less than enthusiastic at your lessons. You seem to take no great pleasure in learning new skills. Your attempts at felatio last week were, I must say, nothing short of woeful. You appear to have no interest in learning the skills that you must know are crucial if you are to acquire a husband of sufficient standing to allow you to live a happy life."
Cara began to speak, but Mrs Castlewick cut her off. "Shush, girl. I know what I have seen. But I have not called you here to chastise you. I aim only to help you. It is not only your reputation as a young woman skilled in all the ways of marital life that is at stake here. It is the reputation of this school as a place where parents can be confident that their daughters will be given the best chance of securing for themselves a life of ease and plenty."
She continued, "Yours is a problem that I have encountered from time to time in the past. All women are capable of enjoying sexual congress, and it is my firm belief that it is our God-given right to partake of all the pleasure that the carnal world has to offer. For many of us, that pleasure is derived through the caresses, the fingers, the tongues and the penises of men. But there are also women whose path to sexual release lies down a different way, and for whom the attractions of their own sex are paramount. You, Miss Pennywhistle, are of that persuasion. A follower of Sappho, a resident of Lesbos, one who drinks from the furry cup."
"I say it is a problem, but do not mistake me. There is no problem in seeking to take your pleasure with another woman. One must be discrete, of course, but as long as you give no cause for scandal you will find an ample array of willing partners. No, the problem comes because this world is unkind to women who do not marry, and marriage is unkind to women who do not satisfy all of their husband's base desires. But to this problem, there is a solution."
Clara squirmed uncomfortably. She had thought that no-one knew, that no-one could tell that in their lessons it was not the sight of the men, with their bare chests and engorged members that caused a warming glow between her legs. It was her fellow students, and yes even her headmistress and instructor, that left her with damp panties at the end of class. But the promise of a solution, of something that could help her be the good young woman she wanted to be, to take some pleasure in the intimate company of a man - that promise tempered her discomfort and she leaned forward to listen attentively.
"The solution is this. We must condition you to associate sexual activity with a man with the same pleasure that you derive from the female form. It is not difficult, in itself, but it does require consistency and repetition. We will begin tonight. Tell me, Miss Pennywhistle, have you ever been intimate with another woman? Have you had another woman's tongue lick delicately at your rosebud? Have you had another woman slide a finger into your love canal? Or done the same to them?"
"No Mrs Castlewick, ma'am. I have not done any of those things, nor had them done to me. Well, except for this morning when you told me to... clean you."
"I see. Well, in addition to addressing your problem I can also instruct you in some techniques that I think may serve you well in any extra-marital dalliances that you may have. But for now, to work. Please disrobe. Turn around and I shall help you with the stays and buttons."
Clara rose from the chair and turned her back as Mrs Castlewick came towards her, her stiff black dress swishing and rustling as she crossed an Oriental rug that covered the parquet flooring. In a moment the fastenings of her dress had been undone and she removed it, laying it over the back of a brocaded armchair. She had removed her shoes and petticoats when Mrs Castlewick commanded her to turn around which she dutifully did, standing before the headmistress in her vibrant red brassiere and underpants. Her breasts amply filled the cups of the brassiere, spilling over the top. The dark flesh of her aureoles was visible above the lace edging. The silk of the panties stretched taughtly over her mound. Stray wisps of dark hair peeked out here and there. Her buttocks and thighs had some substance to them, framed by the black suspenders that held up her stockings. Clara clasped her hands demurely in front of her as Mrs Castlewick inspected her.
"Hmm. Yes, very fine. You certainly have the looks to secure yourself a good match, Miss Pennywhistle. I should say that you are far from a lost cause. Tell me, do you find me attractive?"
Clara blushed hard at this unexpected question. She certainly found the female form, with its curves and softness and its familiarity preferable to the male body with its hardness and angles and covering of hair. And there was something undeniably enticing about the older woman. Her physique was bearing the years well, and she had admired her breasts when they were exposed in the lesson that morning. Her face was handsome, and the grey hairs if anything added to the allure. And sucking and licking Fletcher's sticky load from her chest had very much aroused her.
"Yes ma'am," Clara replied in a quiet voice. "I do find you attractive."
