David's Tall Girls' School Ch. 01

It was late autumn of 1960 and I was 20 years old and was following my hobby of bird watching. I had been staying with an old school friend in rural Buckinghamshire and was spending the morning in a beech wood overlooking a dry chalk valley in the Chilterns.

I was having a fairly successful day until I decided to strike out across farmland further to the east. With my bird diary and binoculars I settled down in a grassy meadow in the intense sunlight surveying the hedgerows for some 'long-tailed tits' which I'd noticed previously.

Lying on my stomach I focussed on a small group of these tiny birds foraging daintily amongst tall grasses. I was aware of human voices approaching but thought nothing of it. So intent was I on the tits that I didn't notice a pair of legs step over me and stand immediately in front of me blocking my view.

"So it looks as if we've stumbled across a dirty little Peeping-Tom Fiona," the girl in front of me said looking down. I stared up slowly. My eyes focussed on a pair of three-inch heels in patent leather. Above these two long athletic legs encased in fine denier black stockings disappeared under a navy blue knee-length tartan skirt. I also notice petticoat lace peeping out from under the hem.

"Oh no not another bloody private girl's school," I thought thinking back to my dreadful experience at Spathford Grange a few weeks earlier.

I looked up into the expressionless eyes of a dark haired girl and five others who had surrounded me. I turned over on my back and stared up at them. They all appeared from my low angle to be at least six feet tall. They moved toward me so that I was blocked in by a forest of legs. I looked up their skirts.

As they moved and swayed above me I was treated to glimpses of white lacy petticoats, suspenders and black stocking tops. Hilary, as the first one was known, put her foot on my chest as if to claim me as captive. The others joined in, and gently, but firmly, smeared their soles and heels over my face. Their shoes smelt of new-mown grass.

"Let's get 'Mr. Pervert' to the headmistress and hear what she has to say," said one of them as they pulled me to my feet.

I noticed as soon as I stood up that they were all actually six-feet tall or taller. Being relatively short and puny I began to feel quite vulnerable imagining I would have to possibly 'service' these young beauties just as I had been forced to do at Spathford Grange Academy.

I was frog-marched uphill across the meadow which abruptly became a hockey field and, just as suddenly, the main school buildings came into view. It was a vast two storey rambling affair. It was a country manor which had been extended to each side creating a symmetrical structure fronted by a massive timber portico. It appeared like a film set to 'Gone with the Wind'.

Girls in hockey skirts and navy blue knickers stared at me as they ran past. They appeared to be well above average height. There were other girls wandering about wearing their school uniforms which consisted of v-neck grey sweaters over crisp white blouses. They all wore smart flared pleated navy-blue tartan skirts which ended on the knee. They wore black stockings and court shoes and they all had very long legs.

I looked at their skirts imagining I had my head under them, licking their inner thighs and rubbing my nose vigorously over their cotton knickers breathing in their natural female odours.

Immediately I felt my penis stiffen. My trousers had suddenly become a tent; a veritable 'big top circus tent', I thought. I found it uncomfortable to walk and felt extremely self conscious and embarrassed.

I was led into the main entrance hall where I managed to persuade them to stop so that I could read a notice board.

"Hurry up pervert, we are not going to let you go you know," said Hilary.

The heading to the notice board read 'Dentwood Finishing School for Tall Girls aged 18 to 20 years.'

"Oh my goodness." I thought reading on.......

'Dentwood School acknowledges the fact that girls who are six-foot tall or over can often experience lack of confidence and self-esteem, and difficulties in making, and retaining, friendships or relationships or fulfilling their full potential.

It is the aim of the school to reverse these negative assumptions and attitudes and to turn out well-rounded balanced young ladies able to contribute to modern society'

I was beginning to feel as if I was half my normal size standing next to these long-legged athletic firm-thighed 18+ year olds girls. The headmistress' office was along a narrow corridor and faced towards the rear of the school.

The shrill sound of "Enter," came from behind the oak door as Fiona knocked timidly and walked in. I heard snippets of conversation punctuated by "Oh really?", "Binoculars?", "and Tits?" from the headmistress.

I was manhandled into the large room and tried to shake my captors off. I must have created a very bad first impression. My face was daubed with grass and mud. I had a pair of large binoculars round my neck and exhibited an erection between my legs which resembled, in my eyes at least, the size of cricket bat handle.

From behind her desk Miss Amelia Wiff-Naseford stood up. She was about forty, was elegantly dressed in a white blouse and long grey tweed pleated skirt. She was about six foot two inches tall, slim and wore black one-inch kitten heeled shoes over dark brown stockings. Her greying hair was in a bun. She wore steel framed glasses.

"So err.. Mr. err um?" she enquired.

"Shaw, miss," I replied.

"So Mr. Shaw, you are in a great deal of trouble. Judging by your appearance I would say you are a menace to all respectable young women, What do you say?"

I had no energy to argue my case and I considered that the police may be more lenient as my old school friend could vouch for me. I also had my ornithological reference books back at his cottage. I agreed with her that I was a 'menace to all young women'.

Miss Wiff-Naseford picked up her telephone and I prepared myself for her call to the local police station. I stood before her looking pathetic as she stared down at my stonking erection which was 'staring' straight back at her.

"Celia, yes it's A W-N here. See who's in the staffroom and bring them in please, thank you."

Four members of staff appeared. All of them were very tall women in their thirties or forties. They wore similar clothes. Their extremely long curvaceous legs disappeared under box-pleated or A-line skirts. They all wore dark stockings and court shoes.

"Mr, Shaw, I believe that the school does actually have a policy for dealing with Peeping-Toms. Either you follow these disciplinary rules or else I call the police. What is it to be? "

I chose the former as I did not want further hassle.

Miss Wiff-Naseford walked up to her antique bookcase and removed a grimy volume of the school rules. She blew the dust off it and opened the contents page. Clearly this old book had not been referred to for many years.

"P?....Parents Day, Payments, Peeping Tom, ah yes, here it is, apparently last referred to in 1911. Shall I go on? Sit down everybody."

The other members of Miss Wiff-Naseford's staff sat on two sofas opposite me while I sat on an upright chair in front of the headmistress's desk. I noticed that all the tall ladies sat in a similar way with one foot tucked under the other. There was no glimpse of petticoat or any other item of underwear to be seen unfortunately.

Miss A W-N explained that according to the school rules there should be a box labelled 'Peeping Tom' in the 'old store room' and asked Miss Cartwright to collect it.

It was a largish wooden box, made of mahogany with brass hinges. Inside were four lengths of thick rope attached to eight leather straps. Each strap had an adjustable buckle. There was also a narrow, solid looking pillow which appeared very old and stained.

"According to the guidance notes," she said to me and the others over her spectacles "there should be four small iron tethering rings in this office under the windows and next to the bookcases. These are attached to the floorboards near the skirting board. She looked about the room and eventually found three of them. Miss Muriel Browne found the fourth behind a sofa.

I was beginning to wonder where on earth this was all leading to and began to think that I should have got the police involved instead.

"We need to attach the straps to the rings like so," and held up a diagram.

My heart sank as I saw some poor naked soul spread-eagled on his back, legs and arms apart unable to move.

They hooked up the straps to the rings and pulled them towards the centre of the room where they almost met in front of the headmistress's desk. There appeared only just enough space for someone to lie on their back with space around them for people to walk about.

Miss A W-N summoned Matron and told her to help me off with my clothes. Matron was a smiling motherly type and asked me my age. I told her that I was twenty and she appeared extraordinarily surprised.

I stood stark naked in front of the head's desk with my erection carefully hidden behind my hands. Amelia W-N continued reading from the school rules and persuaded the other staff members, Matron and I to move her heavy Victorian desk away from the centre of her study to allow more space for me to be tied down.

I lay on my back as her teachers adjusted my straps so I was tightly constrained in the middle of the office. As they squatted above and around me I noticed between their spreading knees that several teachers wore white or cream lacy French knickers. Matron's bottom was encased in a large pair of shiny white nylon panties which contrasted with her thick black nurses' stockings. My stiffness grew with every glimpse of petticoat and other item of underwear.

Matron slid the narrow pillow under my head and neck which raised them six inches off the floor. I still couldn't work out what the punishment was.

Amelia W-N whistled in astonishment at another diagram in the book. She showed it to the others and matron could only mutter "Well I never, poor Mr. Shaw, poor lad."

I was beginning to wonder whether I couldn't just bribe myself out of my predicament. Perhaps an annual gift to the school may be sufficient.

"Would someone explain what I have to do?" I exclaimed in a frightened nervous voice.

Miss Browne walked over to me and squatted down, displaying her underwear and, held the book open so I could just about see the illustration.

It showed a Victorian gentleman wearing a moustache, completely naked, strapped to the floor. Above him a schoolgirl in voluminous petticoats and dress was squatting on his face, her linen drawers held in her hand. His tongue was up the girl's vagina and dribbles of vaginal juice were flowing onto his face. Behind the girl were other similar looking girls waiting in line for the same treatment. The headmistress was also shown sitting in a low chair observing the procedure with a list in her hand.

"It appears Mr Shaw that you are obliged to 'orally pleasure' the whole school beginning with me," said Amelia Wiff-Naseford in a stifled and somewhat surprised tone.

She stood up and referred to the diagram and walked purposefully towards me. "I think we'll draw the line at full orgasm as it will take forever with the 120 girls and fifteen staff members," she exclaimed, "perhaps the 'free flowing of vaginal juices' may be an appropriate stage to stop," she said to me wondering whether I understood what she meant.

She reached under her skirt behind her and slid her lacy French knickers off. "I'm feeling quite hot just thinking about it" she smiled and laughed at the other staff members.

"Muriel you'd better take note as I know you've not had male company for many years."

Amelia checked the diagram again and placed one foot to one side of my face and the other to the other side of my face. She looked down at me and winked.

I stared straight up her long tweed skirt and white slippery lace edged slip as she parted her knees and brought her hairy vagina down to rest on my mouth. Her brown stockings seemed to be the same colour as her pubic hair. "Oh heavenly," she sighed as she realised that the narrow solid pillow was pushing my nose between her outer lips at just the right height and angle.

I felt afraid that she may damage me if she applied too much weight but in her natural squatting position with her shoes resting firmly on the carpet there was not too much danger of that happening. At least Matron seemed to be at hand anyway.

Above me her parted legs allowed me to examine the underside of her white slip trimmed with nylon lace, which made a swishing scratching sound as it rubbed against her dark stockings and suspender clips. Her vagina exuded a strong pervasive attractive odour which instantly caused my penis to stiffen up. She rubbed herself rocking backwards and forwards over my upturned face.

"Go and get class 1A, Cordelia, they'll have finished hockey by now. By the time they've organised themselves we will be finished here," spluttered Miss Wiff-Naseford breathlessly to her mathematics teacher.

Her juices flowed freely and my face became slippery. Her labia opened wider as she slid her long legged pubic area backwards and forward. My legs were fettered wide apart and I seriously wanted to masturbate. Here indeed was a punishment I had not thought possible to withstand. Above me and over me a mature woman was slowly and deliberately bringing herself to orgasm and I felt like a mere sexual plaything, a marital aid to enable her to fulfil her sexual climax.

She was well into her stride and her rubbing became more insistent. Her skirts, petticoat and underwear passed backwards and forwards over and above me in a flurry. I closed my eyes as her buttocks spread her moisture into my hair and over my cheeks.

"Muriel you can...be...next...oh...oh..oh...aaghhh," she shouted as I felt her muscles spasm over my sticky slimy slippery nose. I pulled from side to side trying to breathe but she remained firmly clamped to my face as she allowed every last deep shudder to pass from her.

She stood up and I could hear her knees cracking, while she shook her skirts and underslip down above me. Up went her skirt as she pulled her knickers back on, leaning against her desk to balance herself. I watched her crotch turn transparent as she straightened it over her suspender belt. Down came her underslip which she adjusted so that the rear slit was central. Down came her skirt which she smoothed and swivelled. She tucked her blouse in and smiled at her staff.

"Well." she said, "That was very satisfying, and I may treat myself to a further session later on, now Muriel, knickers off."

(Continued in part two)