A prelude
Anita and Sarah had been great friends ever since schooldays, they'd had had a schoolgirl crush upon each other, long before they met their husbands, in fact before boys came along at all. Unlike most such pairings, theirs had endured and they still met up for a little womanly comforting from time to time. Over the years the comforting had expanded to encompass the exploration of their increasingly steamy fantasies: they wondered if other women shared their hidden desires but never dared to ask. Sarah had been rather down of late, her husband John's carnality had dwindled, gradually, from marginal to almost non-existent and recently, on top of everything else, he had discovered Jesus and sin. Anita knowing her friend's eclectic and not always run-of-the-mill tastes wanted to plan a delightful surprise for her friend to cheer her up but oh, to find something new that would really stoke Sarah's fires.
They had indulged in and discovered a mutual love of role play and acted out their various twisted notions for a long time now, but oh for something different. Mistress and servant had been their first roles but they soon ran out of scenarios. Naughty school girl had been fun for a while, headmistress and contrite pupil had lasted longer and the costumes, all grey pleated skirts, stiff starched blouses, white knee socks and voluminous blue or white knickers, were more fun too and really made them feel naughty. Kinky Sarah had preferred socks and knickers whilst Anita opted for the more conventional thick, flesh-coloured stockings held up by suspenders over a bare, if hairy, bush. Then Anita introduced the most dangerous game of all, 'the penitent.' Here she had enlisted the assistance of her rather too enthusiastic, elderly, parish priest. The vividness of his fertile imagination soon became all too obvious as he first sustained and then inflated their perversity by demanding a series of extraordinarily humiliating acts of penance from the pair of them; his own confessions ought to have been interesting, lust and gluttony must have featured large but pride ought to have been included too.
Anita racked her brains, a new angle, she needed a new angle. They'd covered, comprehensively, priest and nun, priest and mother-superior and even bishop and all powerful abbess during 'the penitent' phase. Anita smiled as she recollected some of the acts that 'Bishop Herodious' had been oblige to perform, at the direction of the Abess of Pussrun in order to ensure the complete reformation of their truly repentant, but extraordinarily misguided, sinner. Best of all she recollected poor Sarah scrubbing the stone flagstones of the narthex of his church, on her hands and knees, wearing a chemise which only just managed to cover her bare sex and naked bottom when she was standing up. Even Anita, unsure of her faith as she was, was pleased to discover that the vestibule of the church was screened from the alter; in darker moments she wondered if the old and compliant priest would have been as equally fastidious.
Triumph at last, Anita solved her problem, she took out her sewing box, unfolded her sewing machine and after she had invited Sarah to join her for the weekend, leaving all her inhibitions at home, she began to cut, pin and stitch the new costume. Anita had dreamt up a cocktail whose effects even she could not be sure of but she knew it would be potent, more Long Island Iced tea than Manhattan.
She, Anita, was to be Miss Gorgon, an elderly spinster who directed a Glaswegian, Roman Catholic, reformatory for wayward girls set, in all probability in the nineteen fifties or nineteen sixties. Sarah was to be their latest charge, undergoing her induction and inspection by the church board. A board who would explore fully and then review in their entirety the c omplete depths of Sarah's depravities. All, of course, in order to reveal to her, her total lack of self control and also to teach her to be ashamed of her openly wanton and highly lascivious ways. But rather than dissect the minutiae of Anita's planning, we should study its results, by relating the experiences of the most fortunate, or most unfortunate, Sarah.
Sarah, forty, plump with generous busts and wide hips was not used to complying with commands barked at her sharply; not even from her co-conspirator and slightly younger friend, Anita. From the moment of her arrival at the house that evening Sarah felt wrong footed. "What a singularly useless specimen they've sent us this time! Remove that appalling apparel immediately, you look like a street whore. Don't just stand there girl, get a move on, strip you little tart!" What sort of greeting was that from your best friend? And she had taken a lot of trouble to try to please her friend. Sarah was dressed in a delicate, yet slinky, cream, silk blouse, presenting just enough cleavage to ensure that anyone who saw would discern that the breasts it so elegantly concealed were large, soft and sensuous. Her bright red skirt hung only just above her knees, with thighs like hers, if you wanted to look sexy, it was better to conceal than reveal. Her suspenders and bra were also bright red, but these were well hidden beneath her costume. Her black stockings and heels were sensual but, for a woman of forty, not tarty so there was no way that anyone, Anita included, could have realised that she had rejected wearing black, lace trimmed, seductive silk briefs in favour of no panties at all. Sarah was indignant, she knew that she bore no resemblance to a common street whore whatsoever.
Sarah was also not thinking; well her husband was driving her insane. Never one for pushing the boat out in bed, let alone; rowing in the kitchen, sailing in the dining room, floating in the lounge or being becalmed in the bathroom: he had become even more sexually conservative of late, obsessed with lust and maintaining a lack of it. His 'born again' obsessions had already transformed 'making love' into 'marital duties' and, given that 'his wife was entering the twilight of her fertility', had increasingly justified, at least to himself, that resisting the temptation of carnality was godly.
Pragmatic Sarah, true no theological expert, simply employed common sense; God had seen fit to endow the sexual organs of devoted husbands and wives with an enormous capacity for demonstrating their understanding of the wants, needs and desires of their partners; such a magnanimous gift ought to be explored and exploited to the full, not questioned. Pragmatic Sarah had also resigned herself to the fact that indulging Anita in her fantasies and perversions was a whole lot more fun than following the staid and stolid ideas of her boring husband, even if this was rather naughty of her, and the very occasional real infidelities that her roles had demanded of her did give her an occasional twinge of guilt; but then, 'no pain, no gain'.
Sarah attempted to protest but the moment she opened her mouth her friend became wholly overbearing, "strip you worthless slattern, undress this instant or face the punishments of this institution; painful, protracted, subtle, severe and utterly memorable." Sarah noticed that Anita's garb matched her tone: a calf length, shapeless, grey woollen skirt whose only ornament was a simple broad black belt; drab nylons, flat black, lace-up, masculine shoes and a crisp cream blouse fastened at the collar with a simple gold pin, she'd even put her hair up in a tight bun, not at all her usual style, closer to her nun outfit, in fact.
'OK' Sarah thought to herself, 'role playing it is; but did Anita have to be quite so dominant, her friend Anita knew that she, Sarah, was having a hard time of things, she needed bouquets not brickbats.' Sarah hesitated and Anita drew a leather strap from its place, hanging over her leather belt, an evil looking thing with one end divided into two. She ordered Sarah to stand up straight and hold out her hand and when she did so Anita delivered a single stinging blow that was intensely painful. Sarah, winced and resigned herself to obedience, her friend had never introduced an element of violence before. "Now child strip naked or you'll get another five of those and then I'll call my assistants, have them hold you down and undress you by force; I might even let them poke and prod your blubbery bits. Nervous of where Anita was taking this and massaging her sore palm the now somewhat scared Sarah quickly did as she had been bidden.
In truth Anita was rather concerned about how much that strap had appeared to have hurt her friend. She had researched her role thoroughly and discovered that, in bygone days, the tawse was a common instrument of discipline in Scottish schools and had procured one; she had never considered just how effective it might be.
"Now here's your uniform". First, Anita unwound a long, roll of solid white webbing, about an inch and a quarter wide. She hung the middle of the ribbon over the back of her friend's neck, pulled an end over each of her shoulders and made a cross by passing the left strap under her friend's buxom right breast and the right strap under her fleshy left breast, looped it once around her back, twice around her waist and tied it off. "You're a big lass, but bras are too expensive." She had transformed the webbing into a makeshift bra that gave Sarah enough support to prevent her from unsightly sagging but did nothing to cover her big red teats and their encircling, light brown, areolae.
Anita knelt, and bid Sarah step into a voluminous pair of soft, white cotton knickers that she was holding open for her. For a woman of forty they were pathetically childish in design and correspondingly humiliating, not things to be seen in, in addition to the usual stretchy waist, the leg holes were also elasticated; Sarah blushed as she pondered upon who Anita was going to force her to parade herself before, modelling those dreadful pants. "Any stains on those and you'll catch a good dose of the belt on both your bare buttocks and between those fat, wobbly white thighs of yours" and Anita pinched the fleshy part on the inside of one of Sarah's thighs, just hard enough to make her start and wince.
