Julia Ponsonby had not taken her parents' divorce well. She had always been a daddy's girl and she missed her father terribly. It had not helped that her mother had remarried almost as soon as she received the Decree Nisi and that her stepfather was extremely unlikeable. Harold was something big in the City and was filthy rich but Julia found him cold and controlling. She was disgusted at the way that her mother fawned on him and seemed to accept his every whim (and there were many) as law, so arguments with the both of them were many and growing ever more bitter.
Things came to a head on her eighteenth birthday. She had been drinking more and more heavily for some weeks, and on this, her first ever legal night she had celebrated to excess. She groaned as she staggered out of the taxi to see that the lights in their large town house were still on. Somehow she managed to open the door quietly, intending to sneak upstairs but her stepfather was waiting in the hall.
"And what time do you call this?" He asked.
"Well I call it 2.30, what time do you call it?" Julia said with false bravado whilst trying to ignore her mother who, dressed only in a dog collar, bustier and fishnet stockings, was kneeling at Harold's feet, staring devotedly upwards like a gun dog.
"I call it high time that your unacceptable behaviour was halted. I am no longer prepared to tolerate your defiance. If you won't discipline yourself then it will have to be instilled in you by other means, young lady. I am sending you to finishing school tomorrow and hopefully you will learn how to behave there"
"Well I'm not going, you're not my father."
"No but I am your legal guardian until you're 21 and come into your inheritance. Until then I have full and absolute control of your body." The way that he stressed these last words and the way that he stared at her as he said them made Julia suddenly very glad that she was going away. After a few minutes of raging and swearing for form's sake, she accepted the inevitable and ran off to her room.
She was hardly expecting to be sent to a top Swiss School, but Miss Agatha Willoughby's Academy for God's sake? What on earth was that? Where on earth was that? She googled and her gloom deepened. It was an exclusive school in the heart of Surrey dedicated to the teachings of its namesake. Agatha Willoughby had been at the forefront of the Suffragettes. Indeed it had been fully expected that she would lead the movement until she was suddenly asked to step down in somewhat mysterious circumstances and she faded into obscurity.
The Prospectus stated that the College was "dedicated to the schooling of young ladies of a refined upbringing between the ages of eighteen and twenty one and who needed to be retrained in the standards of behaviour expected of them which had been ignored or insufficiently emphasised by conventional educational establishments." What on earth did that mean? It sounded as though it was a reform school for posh totty with IQ's lower than their Bra size. Julia frowned. Its fees were astronomical! Something wasn't right here. Why should her stepfather want to spend this fortune on her when university was far cheaper and he knew that she would be off the day after she inherited her legacy?
Julia's researches were interrupted by her mother's screams.
The two women had never been particularly close, but Julia was becoming increasingly concerned about her mother. Margaret Ponsonby had many interests and had found the conflicting duties of marriage constricting. As a girl, Julia had grown used to her mother's growing demands for for 'personal space,' yet this goal had been abandoned as soon as she had remarried, in favour of what Julia considered to be an overwhelming obsession with sex. Her high fashion clothes had been thrown out, to be replaced by skirts whose hems had crept ever higher and now rested just below her bum. Meanwhile her necklines plunged ever lower, revealing both a loss of a bra and the gain of many nipple rings. Julia considered that she now looked like a tart.
And she was behaving like a tart too. Julia had had a sheltered upbringing and despite having a classic English Rose beauty had very little knowledge or indeed experience of sex, and it had never appeared to be high on the agenda of Margaret either, but now her mother seemed to be constantly in need of a good fucking.
Harold just had to be hung like a donkey with the stamina of a horse as Margaret made her demands and her passion known at a volume which would have deafened the average Eastern European tennis player.
There was no way that Julia could concentrate with the moans, the screams and the torrid appeals to be bumfucked coming from the bedroom next door. She jumped into her bed and tried to get to sleep with her head buried under her pillow. Perhaps going to boarding school was going to be a good idea.
So the next day she found herself in the back of the Bentley, being driven to the village of Great Fuckinham and to Miss Agatha Willoughby's School for Young Ladies.
The chauffeur pulled up on the gravel drive, opened her door and drove off again, leaving her clutching her suitcase, surveying the ivy covered walls of a large and extremely ugly country house. She had been expecting to see hordes of schoolgirls running around but the place seemed deserted. Feeling lost and small, Julia pulled the bell rope.
The large wooden door swung open and Julia gaped. In the hall stood a maid. Or rather half a maid. Her top half was immaculately and traditionally dressed, with a frilly lace cap, black high necked blouse and a white bib. But there it ended...literally. Her blouse finished just below her pussy, and then bare legs descended to black rubber clogs.
"I said Can I help you madam?"
"Er...yes...er...I'm a new girl."
"Of course, please follow me." Nonchalantly, the maid bent down to pick up her suitcase revealing a complete lack of knickers and a neatly shaved pussy. A bemused Julia followed her swaying bum through a large Hallway with oak panels and highly polished floor tiles.
The maid came to a solid oak door, marked "Miss Evangeline Hunter, Head Mistress," knocked and motioned for Julia to enter.
Miss Evangeline Hunter sat behind a large oak desk. She was almost a parody of Julia's expectations. A large florid woman with her greying hair drawn back into a severe bun and an incipient moustache. Her buxom bosom was encased in a white blouse, a tight tie and a heavy tweed jacket. In a booming voice she asked Julia to sit down whilst she finished off her correspondence. Julia perched on the chair in front of the desk. It was weird. At first glance it was a traditional straight backed hall chair, but a large hole had been cut into the generously covered seat, and why on earth had it been upholstered in rubber? She was beginning to doubt her senses. Had she really seen a half naked maid flashing her cunt? It hardly seemed possible as she glanced at the normality of the cluttered room with its cabinets full of silver cups, its walls covered by old photos and in one corner for some strange reason a stuffed octopus.
The silence was suddenly broken by the gentle sound of running water splashing onto the polished tiles. Julia looked up in surprise. It seemed to be coming from behind the desk but Miss Hunter was continuing writing unconcerned. Just as suddenly it stopped, Miss Hunter signed off with a flourish and turned to speak in clipped and plummy tones.
"Well I'm pleased to welcome you here young lady. This is an old school with a rich heritage, dedicated to the teachings of a very great lady. I'm sure that you will find things very strange at first. Most of my gels do, but all of them come to understand and love the wisdom and traditions that we foster here. They're all off on a cross country run at the moment. That's one of our traditions, my gels love running around in the fresh air communing with nature and so it seems do the villagers. They're marvellously supportive, they always come out to cheer the gels on. As there's no one about at the moment I'll show you around."
Miss Hunter rose and came round her desk and Julia stared in shock. Just like the maid, the headmistress was impeccably dressed, but again just like the maid her bottom half was...was...well, missing! Her top ended just below her crotch, then thick bare legs emerged, covered in varicose veins and ending in the same rubber clogs that the maid had worn. In a daze, Julia got up and followed the woman. It was surreal. She was walking behind a half naked middle aged woman who was showing her around with a total lack of concern that anything was amiss.
