[[ Hi all, while this stands alone, it's easy to go and read parts 1-3 first, links are in my profile.
So, go get caught up then come here for more fun.
I love talking about my stories and getting ideas & opinions from readers for future work, so do get in touch. We're having some great conversations!
Remember, this is a light-hearted, lesbian sex, school romp. It's not meant as a serious portrayal of lesbian relationships. All participants are 18+.
This one contains WATER SPORTS / pee drinking and some non-consensual spanking -- if that's not your thing best try a different story.]]
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First Term at St Penelope's -- Week 4
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"Stop eyeing up Mademoiselle Fontaine!" Caroline shook her head. All around them sixth-form girls were eating their lunch. The younger class tables lay to Beth's rear, and ahead of her the object of her attention sat at the mistresses' table, with the headmistress, Mrs Johnson, at one elbow and the senior French teacher, Madam Dupont at the other.
"I'm allowed to look..." Beth kept her eyes on the young French mistress. Mademoiselle Fontaine was the school's newest recruit and had come on a temporary placement to improve the girls' conversational French. She looked to be in her early twenties and managed to turn perfectly acceptable teaching attire -- a jacket, blouse, and knee-length skirt -- into something that might be modelled in Vogue. Her long, dark hair gleamed, and her makeup, though discrete, was applied with a finesse that Beth envied with her whole heart.
"You can't mess around with a teacher. Not that she'd want some American teenager." Beth's cousin rolled her eyes.
"Why not? I'm over eighteen."
"Because," Caroline drew in a deep breath as if explaining to an idiot, "she would get sacked and you would get expelled. Just because it's legal doesn't mean it's OK!"
"We'd do it in secret," Beth said. "At her apartment."
Caroline giggled. "You've got this all worked out."
"Of course," Beth said primly.
"Well, you'll find that teachers in this school are used to schoolgirl crushes. Bored silly of them, I wouldn't wonder. And you'll end up looking rather foolish if you give her the come on. Don't say I didn't warn you."
Beth supposed that her cousin was right, and turned her attention to her lunch. English food still seemed like an ongoing form of punishment as far as Beth was concerned. She'd definitely lost weight since she'd arrived at St Penelope's, and she hadn't had much to spare in the first place. Still, she didn't mind a slim waist, and the school meals definitely made dieting easy.
She poked half-heartedly at the diced carrots still littering her plate. Unimpressed she lifted her gaze to where the head girl, Charlotte Chase sat at the end of the table. Flick, Charlotte's girlfriend, and deputy head girl, sat beside the aristocratic red-head, and shot a warning glance Beth's way.
Beth still didn't know if Flick was aware of Charlotte's visit to her bed the previous week. She looked the jealous type, even if it was technically a disciplinary visit. Charlotte had peed in Beth's mouth -- an unofficial school punishment for cursing -- and although Beth knew she should feel both humiliated and disgusted, her thoughts kept returning to the incident. It hadn't been that bad at all, she told herself. And the chance to lick Charlotte 'dry', however brief, had been extremely thrilling. She'd never done anything like that before, and both flavours kept returning to her in quiet moments. She very definitely wanted a second taste of the honourable Miss Chase. She'd wanted to be Charlotte's girl, and however humiliating it might have been to be used as a toilet like that, it had also been a very intimate thing that made Beth's pussy hot and damp even now in the noisy dining room.
Plus, it hadn't really been about punishment or about cursing, it had been something Charlotte wanted. A test. Charlotte had spoken about Beth becoming her pet. Beth wasn't sure about that, but if being a pet was what it took to later replace Flick, then she'd give it the old school try!
After lunch Beth went to her French lesson. As Beth had anticipated, Mademoiselle Fontaine was taking the girls for a conversation class.
Beth saw a free seat beside Gwen and made her way towards it.
"You're late, Pudding," Cherry murmured as Beth squeezed past her.
Beth sat settled her bottom on the empty chair. Gwen smiled a welcome. She was probably the prettiest girl in the year besides Charlotte and -- though Beth hated to admit it -- Flick. Unlike those two however, Gwen was short and approachable. And since the 'pudding incident' when Gwen had eaten half a treacle pudding off Beth's inner thighs, she'd shared a comfortable friendship with the blonde beauty. The other two girls in the French class with whom Beth was most friendly were Sita and Cherry. Sita was rather reserved but seemed nice. Beth had been amazed to find the girl being finger-fucked by mousey little Helen in the rear stairwell of the art building, but it showed she had an adventurous side, and Beth hoped to see more of it one day.
Cherry, a tall black girl with an easy, flirtatious smile, had been the one to finish the 'pudding incident' by licking Beth clean under the desk during an English lesson, driving her to the second of her public orgasms during the traditional 2-day hazing new girls had to endure. They had yet to revisit the matter, but Cherry's gentle teasing suggested that she would be happy for another taste. Beth only hoped there would be less treacle involved, and fewer clothes too. She'd admired Cherry's statuesque body in the showers on quite a number of occasions now, especially her heavy breasts, and often thought about the girl when touching herself in bed.
The lesson progressed. Beth tried to concentrate but her mind kept wandering into daydreams where the tall, slim French mistress returned her adoring looks. In Beth's imagination the young teacher kept her back after class, took her hand, and led her off to the little blue Nissan parked in a staff spot behind the main hall. Beth let her imagination lead her under the woman's business skirt and make a slow advance up slim, dark-stockinged legs to discover whatever shockingly erotic lingerie she'd bought with her from Paris. Beth inhaled slowly, imaging the scent of Mademoiselle Fontaine's--
"Beth Summer! Attendez-vous!"
The young woman, narrowed her beautiful eyes and shot a series of rapid-fire questions at Beth, stretching her rather basic French to its limits.
After fending off the first four or five enquiries with passable but short replies, Beth found herself flummoxed by the next question. Something about hot fish?
"Pardon, Mademoiselle?" Beth begged a second chance, but the repetition didn't change the fact she only knew half the words. She seemed to be asking what part of her Beth should be paying most attention to.
Beth made a wild guess and said, "Votre levres, Mademoiselle." - 'Your lips, Miss.' Thinking that would be the sensible way to study pronunciation. Beth smiled as sweetly as she could, hoping to placate the woman.
Instead, Mademoiselle Fontaine flew into a Gallic rage and Beth's French proved insufficient to translate anything but the end of it when the teacher slowed down a little and told her that her insolence had earned her a detention that evening. Beth's first detention.
Beth kept her head down for the rest of the lesson, but did risk a scribbled note to Gwen, asking what she'd done wrong. The note came back under the table. 'She asked what you were daydreaming about all lesson. You didn't have to tell her, silly. Also, which lips? :D'
Mortified, Beth blushed and crumpled the note into her skirt pocket.
By the end of the school day Beth was feeling a little better about the whole thing. She would go to Mademoiselle during the detention and explain everything. They would laugh about it, and the teacher might offer her some private tutoring. Who knew where that might lead? Perhaps a chance for Beth to show woman what a cunning linguist she was...
The elegant young teacher made even Charlotte Chase look like a schoolgirl, and as much as Beth wanted Charlotte's attentions, how much more exciting would it be to be taken in hand by an experienced, sophisticated French woman?
Beth knew detentions were conducted in the classroom at the far end of the corridor which connected the main hall to the library. After dinner when the rest of the class went up to the dormitories or the common room, Beth took herself to detention and knocked on the door. She'd made sure her hair was brushed and her face clean. Makeup wasn't allowed, and they could only wear the school's ugly brown and orange blazers and skirts. Even so, Beth had snuck on a hint of lip gloss, and stood as tall as she could, chest out, hoping to make a good impression when Mademoiselle Fontaine opened the door.
Instead, Flick opened it. Beth took a step back, surprised and disappointed. "Did I--"
"Come in," Flick eyed her coldly. "I'm running the detention."
Horrified, Beth hurried in past the tall 'cheerleader', head bowed. She hadn't considered that the head girl or one of the two deputy heads might supervise things like this for the teachers.
Beth was further embarrassed to find herself the only sixth-former in detention. Three of the other four girls looked to be about twelve, and the fourth was a curly haired fifteen-year-old called Harriette. Beth only knew her name because the teachers were always shouting it.
"Get your books out and work in silence," Flick instructed from behind the teacher's desk. Her tone dared any of them to give her cheek. For good measure she picked up a 12-inch wooden ruler from and tapped it meaningfully on the desktop.
Beth did as she was told and spent a pretty miserable hour conjugating irregular verbs. She glanced up a few times only to find Flick's unfriendly gaze on her. The girl was very pretty and had a body to die for, but had a serious case of resting bitch face. Beth knew that when Flick smiled for Charlotte though, it lit her up, and she looked as sweet as pie, her even features framed by sandy blonde bangs.
Flick stood up without warning and announced the end of the detention. "That will be enough. You little oiks can push off. Beth, stay." She went to the door and opened it.
The four younger girls shuffled out. Harriette making a face at Beth as she left. Flick closed the door on her.
"Why do I have to sta--"
Flick took Beth's wrist in a painful grip and jerked her back towards the teacher's desk. "Because I said so. Stand there!"
Leaving Beth where she was, Flick went back to the door, took a key from her pocket, and locked it. She pulled the blind down over the little window, then went to each of the four larger windows and pulled the cords to close the slats on the venetian blinds, closing out the evening beyond.
Beth watched, too nervous to challenge the older girl. Flick wasn't just the deputy head girl, she was also taller and stronger than Beth, a natural athlete, used to being obeyed by all the girls with the exception of Charlotte.
Flick reached into her school bag and brought out two lengths of what looked like soft black rope, the sort used for curtain ties, both with a slipknot loop at each end.
"What are you--"
"I didn't say you could talk in detention!" Flick put the two leftmost legs of the teacher's desk through the ends of the ropes. "Come here." She reached out, took hold of Beth's left wrist and tugged her up close to the opposite side of the desk. "Now put your hand through here. Lean over."
Beth tried half-heartedly to pull away but ended up letting Flick cinch both the free loops around her wrists, forcing her lean across the desk, her hanging breasts almost brushing the desktop, the desk's edge hard against her hips.
Flick pulled something out of her skirt pocket. A ball-gag, perhaps the one Beth had been forced to wear during the hazing on her first night at the school. "If you make any sound I don't want to hear then you'll be wearing that. Understand?"
