The Girls of St Catherine's Ch. 01

"Ooh, that'll hurt in the morning. I didn't see what happened, was it Portia again?" Brianna sympathized, as she slipped off her trainers.

"Yeah, the little tart's got in for me but I'll find a way of getting my own back, don't you worry," Sadie replied angrily.

Five feet above, Michael watched the girls chatting as they undressed. He found nearly all of the girls attractive but Sadie and Brianna were two of his favourites. He pressed his face against the vent, watching closely as Sadie stood up and tugged her t-shirt up over her slim body revealing her trim torso, her long blonde hair cascading over her shoulders as she pulled it off. He felt his cock stir as she reached behind and unfastened her white sports bra releasing her modest but nicely proportioned boobs.

At the same time, he kept an eye on Brianna. She looked different without her glasses. He held his breath as she unzipped her skirt, letting it fall to the floor before stepping out of it then wriggling her green knickers over her hips. Michael licked his lips at the sight of her pussy nestling between her naked thighs with its sparse triangle of fiery red hair. She was shorter and slightly chubbier than Sadie, her auburn hair cut short and framing her elfin face. He pressed against the vent as she unfastened her sports bra and he was rewarded with the sight of her lovely boobs, full and rounded and tipped with large, rosy-pink nipples.

He watched hungrily as the girls stripped out of their uniforms then grabbed their towels before skipping towards the communal showers, their bare breasts jiggling enticingly. Michael reluctantly left his view of the last few girls undressing and slowly slid along the smooth aluminium duct on his stomach being careful not to make any noise. Behind him, he heard the low drone of the fan drawing the warm, humid air past his face as he carefully eased himself into position above the other vent.

He looked around excitedly like the proverbial kid in a sweet shop. It was quite a sight, so much firm, young, naked flesh on show. He felt his cock stiffen as his eyes scanned the naked girls not knowing where to look first. Perhaps at the sleek form of Portia, almost directly below, tipping her head back as she ran her hands through her thick raven-black hair, her back arched, the water cascading over her subtle curves. She had dark, stormy eyes and plump lips that seemed set in a permanent pout. She seemed to have a reputation as a bit of a wild child and he reckoned she'd be a bit of a tiger in bed, loud and passionate.

Sadie was quite different physically; tall and willowy with long, silky blonde hair. She had pale blue eyes that glittered mischievously and a slightly too angular nose that gave her an arrogant look. He had the feeling that despite her golden girl looks she had a kinky side. He watched as she soaped her long, slender legs, her hands sliding over soapy thighs that looked athletic but soft and feminine too. He reckoned she'd like to be on top in bed and he pictured himself lying back on his bed, as she crouched above him. Those long, elegant legs either side of his as she pressed her nakedness against his.

He felt his prick stiffen, and enjoyed the feeling of it rubbing against the hard aluminium as he shifted position.

Next to Sadie, Brianna squirted shower gel into her hands and ran them over her ample curves, the white foam clinging to her gorgeous boobs. He wished it were his hands caressing and fondling her smooth flesh. She was known as being a bit of a swot: the girls sometimes called her 'Brains'. He reckoned she'd be the kind of girl you'd need to talk into bed.

Sometimes he liked to play a game. Whom would he choose to sleep with if he had the choice? Portia , Sadie? Or maybe the cute, curvy Brianna? Or how about the petite figure of sweet, innocent Emma with her fragile good looks and marble skin? As always, he couldn't just pick one and he'd always end up fantasizing that he was in bed with a number of them, all fighting over him, tearing at his clothes, all wanting his body.

He ran his eyes over their subtle curves, trying to etch the images in his mind. Later, in bed, he'd re-play the erotic images of the girls' thighs and breasts and bottoms as he stroked his thighs till his cock strained against his shorts.

All too soon, the girls finished showering and headed back to the changing rooms. Michael sighed knowing he'd have to wait a good 10 minutes until he was sure the coast was clear. It was worth it though. Well worth it. He lay back and closed his eyes, his mind quickly filling with images of the girls' naked bodies, his hand straying down over his warm body and caressing his hardness through his grubby jeans.

The Fox and Hounds turned out to be a typical country pub, complete with horse brasses crowding the walls and an old man glued to the bar in the corner who looked like he'd been there since they opened. Or perhaps since the pub had been built. Under his chair, his small, wiry-haired terrier slept fitfully, legs twitching as he chased rabbits in his sleep.

"Pint of best, Harry," Mr Wicklow said breezily. "What can I get you?"

"I'll have the same."

"So," Mr Wicklow said, leading him to a table in the corner, "how was your first day?"

"That first class was a bit rough," admitted David, "are the girls always like that?" Wicklow sipped his beer as he carefully considered the best way to answer.

"Well they seemed a bit more unruly than normal this morning, perhaps it was the excitement of having a new teacher. So what do you know about the girls here?"

"Well, only what the headmaster told me really. You've got about a hundred and fifty girls here, most of them boarders, but some day girls. Mostly eighteen, nineteen and twenty-year-olds retaking A-levels."

"Well yes," Wicklow agreed, "anyone could work that out from the website but what do you know about the type of girl we get here."

"The type of girl? I'm not sure what you mean," admitted David.

"That's what I thought," Wicklow said, with a sigh. "Let me honest with you: the girls we get here are, well, challenging, is the way the headmaster usually puts it."

"Challenging? Yes, the head did use that word."

Wicklow nodded thoughtfully.

"Frankly David, may I call you David? Well, we're not one of the best schools. We're not Roedean or St Swithun's. We're not even Westonbirt. We're somewhere for young women who need a second chance. The type of girls we get here have failed their A-levels or been expelled, or sometimes both. In fact, some of them have been expelled more than once. That's why some of our girls are in their early twenties, you see."

"Oh, I see," said David. He couldn't help wondering if this was why he was offered the job.

"Parents are attracted to us because we offer a place where their little darlings can study without any distractions. Parents also like the fact that we're so keen on discipline. Frankly, Mr Lean, a lot of these girls are spoilt and privileged. Their parents are often career-obsessed and don't spend enough time at home. They don't set any boundaries when they're young, you see. And now their girls have grown up, they want us to do that for them."

"I see, so that's why the head was so keen on discipline?"

"Exactly, it's our biggest selling point. We appeal to parents who think their daughter needs a dose of classical education backed up with good old-fashioned discipline." David sat quietly, absorbing what had been said whilst Wicklow took a long sip of his beer, the creamy head clinging to his salt-and-pepper moustache.

"Did the head tell you what happened to your predecessor?" Wicklow asked David shook his head.

"Poor old Professor Carter, he had a heart attack."

"Oh really! Is he, uh..."

"No, no, he's fine now. Out of hospital and recovering at home with his wife. The thing is there are rumours about him fooling around with one of the girls. Apparently that's what caused it."

"Really, well that's shocking."

"I'm not that surprised. The girls here aren't always as innocent as they appear." "Really? I mean they're mostly teenage girls, how bad can they be?" Wicklow smiled and shook his head.

"You'd be surprised, David. In my experience, there's no more malevolent, spiteful or manipulative creature than a teenage girl. Not all of them of course but some of them are wicked. Especially if you show them any weakness. You really can't show any weakness."

"I see," said David, taking another long gulp of his bitter as he struggled to take it all in.

"That's why I invited you here. I mean I wanted to warn you. I saw what happened this morning. You can't let them get away with that kind of behaviour, they're like animals. They can smell any sign of weakness. You need to stamp it out before it takes root."

"I appreciate the advice Mr Wicklow but I think I can handle some teenage girls, once I find my feet."

"Well maybe, but as I say I thought it was only fair to warn you." Wicklow said, looking at his watch. "Now drink up I've got an appointment at eight. One of the girls wants to talk about her grades."

Tara waited nervously, her hands toying with the hem of her green and grey-checked skirt and fiddling with her long chestnut hair as Mr Wicklow sat at his desk and finished marking the assignments. He was known for this. Inviting girls in then making them stand and wait anxiously as he casually finished what he was doing.

She looked around his study. It was a very masculine room, the mixed odours of leather and furniture polish filling the warm, dry air. Very neat too. The books carefully aligned on their shelves and the papers on his desk in tidy stacks. The bottom halves of the walls were covered with wood panelling and the top halves a mixture of rather old-fashioned paintings of landscapes and framed academic certificates. It was quite cosy with its thick carpet and walls lined with floor-to-ceiling bookcases. It occurred to Portia that it must be quite well soundproofed too.

Tara studied Wicklow as he sat behind his large mahogany desk, patiently marking some homework. He was a lean, wiry figure with receding hair and a greying moustache. Despite it being several hours since he was in the classroom he was still dressed smartly in a grey flannel suit with a pale blue-and-burgundy striped tie. Eventually he looked up.

"Well now Tara. What can I do for you?" "It's about my grades Sir," she said as he got to his feet.

"Yes?" he replied.

"Well I need a certain average to pass this module and you only gave me a D minus for my last assignment," she said, handing it to him.

"Ah yes, I remember. A book report on Brave New World," he said, taking it and glancing at the top page.

"Well to be quite honest, I found it lacked any real insight or understanding. I gave it a D minus because I felt that compared to the other assignments that was what it deserved." There was a pause as Tara wondered how best to appeal to him.

"I understand Sir, but if you could perhaps mark it a bit more sympathetically I'd be ever so grateful."

"I see," Wicklow said, looking her up and down. She was an attractive young thing, with large mocha brown eyes framed by thick, black lashes.

"I mean, my father's a very wealthy man and if you were able to help me pass this module I'm sure he'd be able to find a way to reward you."

Wicklow nodded, then got up and walked to the door. Tara felt her heart skip a beat: was he going to report her to the headmaster? She watched as he turned the key in the lock and slipped it into his trouser pocket.

She felt a cool shiver of nervousness run along her spine and her palms grow damp as she watched him return to his desk and perch on the edge.

"I mean it's not against the rules if someone gives a particularly helpful teacher a gift as a sign of their gratitude," Tara said nervously, but Wicklow held up a finger to stop her.

"Young lady, let me be clear: I do not accept bribes. Now we may be able to come to some sort of arrangement but if we do, it has to remain between you and I. Now you probably know of my reputation and you've come to my private rooms at 8 o'clock in the evening. Now I could do you a favour and re-mark this paper a little more, how shall I put it, sympathetically. But what are you willing to do for me? Hmm?"

"I'm not sure I understand Sir," she said innocently, although it was immediately clear to what kind of reward he had in mind.

"You're a pretty little thing," he said, reaching out and clasping her wrist. It looked slim in his large meaty hand and he noticed she wore a slim silver bracelet. Looking at her closely for the first time, he also noticed she was wearing some light make-up. Her lipstick was a subtle shade of pink that emphasised her plump lips.

Tara felt his eyes slide over her as he tugged at her wrist, drawing her closer.

"Please Sir," she said, pulling away from him.

"Do you want me to help you out or are you just wasting my time, girl?" he growled.

"Please Sir, I'm not sure..." she started to say but he silenced her by placing a finger against her soft lips.

She held her breath as he slid his finger down over her neck and toyed with the buttons of her spotlessly white uniform blouse. He locked eyes with her, almost daring her to stop him as his experienced fingers slowly and deliberately unfastened them one-by-one. She let out a little whimper of protest as he tugged her blouse open, exposing the swell of her apple-sized boobs encased in her white C-cup brassiere.

"Very good," he said hoarsely, as if he was assessing one of her essays.

This wasn't what she'd imagined. When she'd mentally rehearsed how she'd wanted this to go she'd pictured herself in control. She'd hoped he take the offer of a gift but if he didn't she'd pictured him pleading with her till she gave in and pleasured him as he moaned with gratitude.

He was quite close to her now, he smelt of beer and old-fashioned after-shave. Tara felt herself blush and suppressed a sudden flush of pleasure as a warm hand slipped inside her blouse and cupped one of her soft boobs, gently squeezing the yielding flesh.

"Please Sir, this isn't what I meant," she gasped.

"Oh I think you knew exactly what to expect, girl," he said knowingly as he grasped her wrist and pulled it towards his thighs.

"These girls are all the same," Wicklow thought to himself.

In class, they behaved like butter wouldn't melt in their mouths, sitting there with their legs tightly crossed under their neat uniform skirts, but get them alone and offer them something they really needed and they'd do whatever you wanted. He could be very helpful to girls who were co-operative. Of course, not all the girls were so receptive to his needs.

Surely, he reasoned, it was only natural that he'd make more of an effort to help those that were willing to help him. Admittedly, that meant he felt less inclined to help the less liberated, more prudish girls but surely having the odd bit of harmless fun was one of the benefits of being a teacher, wasn't it?

Tara reluctantly let him press her hand against the bulge already forming at the front of his trousers, feeling the steely hardness beneath. She hated to admit it but he was right. Deep down, she knew exactly what would be expected of her if she came to his rooms at this time of night. Everyone had heard the rumours about him. All the girls knew what old Wicklow expected. She felt the hardness beneath her fingers eagerly pressing against his zip.

"Now then girl, if you help me out I'm sure I can make things a lot easier for you," he said as he undid the rest of the buttons on her blouse, eyeing her semi-naked boobs hungrily as he tugged it from her skirt and pulled it open exposing her bare stomach.

"Sir I'm really not sure..." she mumbled as she watched his fingers fumbling with his trousers.

"Come along girl," he growled as he eased his trousers down over his thighs. "No-one likes a tease. I can make life very difficult for prick teasers."

Tara knew he was right; he certainly could make life very difficult for her. She considered her options: a few minutes spent pleasuring him versus the rest of the term struggling and being under-marked. She quickly made her choice. Wicklow groaned as she reached out and ran her fingertips along the bulge in his white shorts, feeling the urgent heat of his cock through the thin, tightly stretched cotton. She couldn't help feeling a little thrill of excitement deep in the pit of her stomach, knowing she'd caused his erection.

"Good girl," he groaned, smiling.

"Is this what you want Sir?" she asked knowingly, squeezing his hardness.

"Oh yes, that's the ticket," he moaned as her cool, slim fingers caressed him, stroking him up and down through the white cotton till he felt his cock might tear his shorts.

"You're so lovely and hard Sir," she purred, watching a little damp patch forming as she slowly rubbed him.

"Now then, on your knees girl," he said thickly, gently but insistently grasping her shoulder and pushing downwards. "Now pull down my shorts."

Tara let him push her to the floor and reaching up tugged at the waistband, easing his trousers and shorts down over his hips until his prick sprung free. Wicklow's dick wasn't very long but it was quite thick. It was already as hard as the wooden floor beneath her knees, the veins bulging like lengths of cord, the tip glistening with pre-cum. She heard him groan as she ran a pink fingernail along the taut flesh, his cock twitching, demanding her attention.

Wicklow looked down, feeling his heart thump in his chest as Tara wrapped her slim fingers around him and slowly stroked his throbbing shaft. However often this happened, the sight of a young girl on her knees before him like this never failed to arouse him intensely, and he trembled with suppressed desire as her soft, slender fingers explored his hardness.

Often a girl would jerk him off quickly like she was trying to get it over with and he'd have to make her slow down so he could savour the experience but Tara settled into a smooth, easy rhythm that made him groan contentedly as the juices oozed from the tip.

"Oh God, that's good girl, that's first class," he gasped, his hips slowly undulating as she squeezed him a little tighter.

"Worth an A?" she asked cheekily, her brown eyes glistening like liquid chocolate, enjoying the feeling of being more in control of the situation.

"Oh you've definitely started your assignment well, but you'll need to demonstrate good oral skills to get an A though," he panted, reaching out and stroking her silky brown hair encouragingly.

"Oh, I'm sure you'll find them satisfactory," she replied, as her little cat-like tongue flicked over his sensitive glans.

He felt fiery tingles of pleasure as her soft pink lips planted a line of feather-light kisses along his cock. His breath was coming shallow and fast now as her lips brushed against the sensitive tip. The more she touched and teased him, the more he wanted, the more he needed, the more he craved the feel of her teasing tongue.

He released a long, low growl of satisfaction as she ran the tip of her pink tongue along his almost painfully hard shaft from his swollen balls to the twitching tip. When she got to the end, she swirled it around the thick, swollen head as he felt his heart pound against his chest.

"Do you like that Sir?" she teased as her tongue flicked out and gently lapped the tip till his breathing became ragged.

"Oh God, yes, I want to feel your mouth around me," he managed to gasp as her wicked tongue flicked over his cock, a large drop of pre-cum oozing from the tip and rolling down his shaft. He felt her warm breath on him as she grasped his hardness and slowly eased him into the welcoming wetness of her mouth, her warm lips sliding down his thick rod. He watched, trembling with desire, as she slid back up, his meaty erection glistening. Up and down, up and down her lips went, his hips moving in time as he felt himself grow hotter and hotter.