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  Copyright ©2005 Powerone

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  THE HOLLISTER SCHOOL FOR GIRLS

  A Novel of Education in the Classic English Tradition of Punishment

  By

  POWERONE

  A Renaissance E Books publication

  ISBN 1-58873-725-X

  All rights reserved

  Copyright © 2005 by Powerone

  This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part without written permission.

  For information:

  Email [email protected]

  A Sizzler/B&D Edition

  CHAPTER 1

  The Job Interview

  How could he have known? Danielle was a bright, attractive student who had been brought before Michael, the Headmaster of the small English college, many times. She had an obstinate streak in her, most likely learned from her very wealthy parents and she was often sent to the Headmaster's office for infractions ranging from disrupting the classroom, to smoking and slipping off the campus on the weekend. Harbor College, located in rural England was a small, expensive all-girls college, attended by the children of the very wealthy. The children were usually not bright enough nor mature enough to get into England's very prestigious universities that the rich required of their children. Harbor was a stepping stone, a place where wealthy youth were prepared to fit into the rigors of the elite universities.

  She was bent over his desk, her skirt pulled up over her waist, the blue plaid material lying along her back. Her head was resting on the hard, cold wood, her face framed in the tears running down her cheeks, her big blue eyes now searching for relief from the caning she was receiving. Her blonde hair sat matted on her forehead, the sounds of her sobbing broken only by the swish of the cane and the smack as it tore her flesh.

  Michael moved behind her red-streaked thighs, the flexible rattan cane having left its indelible marks on her young flesh. At eighteen, her tight thighs were soft and sensitive, just right to receive the maximum pain from the unrelenting cane. “You're going to have to learn, Danielle, that you are to obey the rules. We will have many more sessions like this until you do. Maybe a little humiliation will teach you to obey. Now hold still.” He let his hand run down over the cute white panties that were now spread so tightly over her ass cheeks. He felt her body flinch as he touched her, then quickly, his palm hit the panty-covered cheek. “Hold still or it will be the cane again.” He continued fondling her taut buttocks, her sobs increasing, the humiliation of being so openly fondled overcoming her senses. “Spread your legs open, Danielle,” his foot nudged one of her ankles. “Obey me,” he ordered her.

  She cried louder, embarrassed as the Headmaster fondled her naked flesh. While she did smoke and had left the campus, she was a virgin and his abuse of her was both frightening and humiliating. Boys had kissed her and some even tried to paw at her breasts, one actually slipping his hand between her legs before she tightened her powerful thighs, stopping him instantly. She was saving herself for her prince, the man that would sweep her off her feet and give her the life she often dreamt about. Now she had been beaten on her thighs, the cane biting into her sensitive flesh, drawing cries of pain that rocked the room.

  But the Headmaster didn't care, he seemed to relish her screams, each blow hitting even harder than the last, working to drive a louder scream from her throat. At least he had stopped beating her with the cane, now forcing her to accept the fondling of her virgin flesh. She was not sure which was worse. Danielle sobbed as his hand explored her butt, his fingers moved all over her panty-covered flesh as she trembled in fear and humiliation. Now the order to spread her legs, his foot insisted on compliance, banging painfully into her ankle until she obeyed and shuffled her legs wider and wider until he seemed to be satisfied at the obscene position she was placed in. She could only imagine how she looked from behind. Her panties were pulled tightly over her butt, her legs spread almost to the corners of the ornate desk she was bent over, her butt arched up higher as if offering her posterior to him. She could feel the cool air of the room between her legs, knowing that the gap between her thighs was greatly exaggerated by the spread of her legs.

  "Now that is how a naughty girl should be positioned for her punishment,” his hand moved down over her taut buttocks, slide down lower, as she gasped in embarrassment as his fingers touched her pussy, snuggled securely in her tightly stretched panties. “That should teach you some manners, forced to suffer my fondling of your flesh.” He let his fingers move between her thighs, tickling the tender flesh almost at the vee of her legs. He slapped her ass when she began to move. “Hold still I said! I won't tell you again!” The Headmaster punctuated his order with another sharp slap to her ass cheek, rewarded with another cry of pain from her lips. His fingers returned, tickling her sex before lightly tapping against her pussy from behind, feeling her body shudder. He moved his fingers to both sides of the tiny band of panties stretched across her pussy, slipping under the band, pulling up on the material, away from her body, catching quick glimpses of her naked pussy below.

  Her panties were pulled out tightly, the Headmaster's fingers moving the material back and forth until it was drawn between her pussy lips now pushed outside the thin material with the rest of her panties between her ass cheeks, buried from sight. His fingers returned to her flesh, this time his calloused digits finding naked flesh to touch.

  Danielle shuddered with shame as he touched her naked sex, along her closely shaved pussy and back, his palm rubbed sensuously over her naked buttocks. She had never even let a boy touch her as the Headmaster was doing; now she was bent over submissively, her naked flesh harshly rubbed by an older man, under fear of further punishment if she protested.

  Michael looked at her naked ass hidden only by a tiny strip of material pushed between her cheeks, her pussy lips split uncomfortably by her panties. Maybe next time she would learn not to break the rules. He loved the feel of her ass, her muscles tightening when he touched them. She would learn to relax her cheeks, allow him complete access to the split between them and the tight little anus he knew was nestled inside. It would require some pain on her part, but he would enjoy teaching this one to submit.

  He moved behind her again, the small, flexible cane in his hand, the shocked look on her face making his cock harder. “Yes, you will now feel the pain of the cane on your naked flesh. I'm going to start with the top of your tender thighs and slowly work my way up your ass cheeks. You will stay in position,” he ordered her.

  She screamed and sobbed as he beat her ass with the cane, deep red marks showing on her previously white, unblemished skin. He stopped, her crying louder now, her ass a burning mass of pain. “Please, no more,” she begged, her face soaked in her tears, her head hanging submissively down on the desk. But she had stayed in position, her ass thrust up, her legs spread wide, fearing an even more dreadful punishment if she disobeyed.

  Her body flinched as he ran his hands over her striped ass cheeks, igniting fresh pain in her body. “Put your legs together. I want to slip your little panties off you,” he whispered to her. His hands reached up to the waist of her white panties, waiting for her to comply.

  "Why?” she begged, but closed her legs, his hands slipped under her body, urging her
ass to arch up higher. She sobbed louder, the humiliation of being stripped before him now too much to bear, the thought of how she would look from behind once he completed his cruel task of completely embarrassing her. She felt his breath on her ass cheeks as he knelt behind her, his face only inches from her as she felt the panties slowly inch down, the thin material pulling from between her cheeks, the front of the wet garment pushing apart her pussy lips. She clenched her cheeks-a slap to her caned ass cheeks forced her to relax her muscles-a loud sob accompanying her humiliation at being stripped.

  Michael watched as the panties slipped down, his hand moved underneath her, pushing against her abdomen, forcing her to arch up higher as her pussy was slowly revealed from behind. “Higher, Danielle,” forcing her on her toes, her ass submissively stretched out, her sex now completely exposed from behind as her panties slipped from between her thighs to fall on the floor behind her. “Step out of them,” each leg moved up to step out of them, her pussy pulling open. “Good girl, now spread your legs again, Danielle. Real wide, to the corners of the desk. I want your ass cheeks parted and your pussy lips separated by the spread of your legs. Show me all of your intimate charms, Danielle."

  Whimpers accompanied each shifting movement to the side, farther and farther until they reached the sides of his ornate desk. Her body went limp, the sheer exhaustion of the beating and the extreme humiliation of being forced to strip and expose her charms taking a toll on her young body.

  Michael's cock almost burst from his trousers, wishing he could fuck the young girl so brazenly exposed to him but resisted, as he knew that she was a virgin, the rape of her body too easily pinned on him with the DNA testing available nowadays. He would have to be content with abusing her body, forcing her to cum under his masturbating fingers. “Good girl, Danielle. Now relax. I'm going to play with your pussy."

  "No! Don't touch my vagina,” she exclaimed, looking over her shoulder just in time to see his hands move behind her, bracing for the eventual touch on her naked sex. “Ah,” the touch of his finger pushing apart her pussy lips shocked her. She expected harsh fingers, his light touch moved up and down her slit, surprising her. She felt his fingers fumble at her pussy, pulling apart the lips, the fatty tissue pressed back, the cool air of the room touching her superheated inner pussy. Two fingers slid up and down, and Danielle felt her pussy begin to juice, his fingers gentle and urging, sliding up and down in a gentle masturbation. She moaned as she felt him blow on her sex, the hot air from his mouth reminding her how close he was to her naked pussy, how exposed she was to him.

  Michael needed to make her cum, his fingers moving up until he found her clit snuggled tightly beneath her clit hood, his fingers on either side pulling the hood back, the hard button exposed. He tapped it with his finger, rewarded with a gasp and her ass thrusting back, almost smashing into his face. He felt her shudder, heard her cry, then his fingers flooded with her juices as she came from his intimate touch. He could smell her pussy, the sweet scent of her juices as they flowed from her untrained body, forced by his masturbating fingers to cum.

  She felt his fingers continue to rub up and down her pussy as her orgasm quieted, her body tortured by three successive orgasms brought on by his fingers rubbing over her sensitive clit. While she had masturbated before, she had never cum like this. The pain of the caning and the degradation of the forced stripping had brought her sexual arousal to a fevered pitch, needing only the gentle urging of his fingers to release the pent up lust in her young body. She could only lean into him as he held her tightly while she trembled and sobbed, humiliated to be forced to cum in front of him, her naked body still exposed, his fingers still sliding up and down her drenched pussy.

  He finally released her to get dressed after warning her of the consequences of revealing what had happened in his office. How could he have known that her grandfather was on the Board of Directors of the school? He thought the humiliation of being forced to cum under his masturbation and the threat of the act becoming public knowledge would have been sufficient to keep her silence.

  Little did Michael know how powerful her Grandfather was. He was relieved of his duties as Headmaster, packed up and off the campus before he could even try to deny the incident. The whole affair was hushed up, Michael receiving a substantial severance package for his silence. But he soon realized that though they had promised not to tarnish his reputation, he faced many dead-end interviews, the unofficial report of what had happened at his last job becoming common knowledge. He had been looking for a job for more than six months, then returned to the United States, hoping that his reputation would not follow him. His inquiries had brought forth only one interview, the rest receiving a prompt, but a polite “no thank you."

  The interview was with the Hollister School for Girls, a Southern school in rural Georgia. Hollister was similar to his last school, a place for girls from wealthy, prominent Southern families that did not have the credentials to get into the elite schools that their parents expected from them. Most of the girls’ problems were social, not necessarily academic, the ones who, it seemed, rebelled against their parents. In order to maintain its accreditation, the school had to take in a number of “charity” cases: girls with similar problems but without the family wealth. In fact, many were from such extremely poor conditions that this school was the only chance they would ever have to get any further education.

  Michael's interview was with the Chancellor of the school. He was surprised when he met her, not at all what he expected. She was in her late thirties, but with the body of a twenty-five year old. She was tall, had blonde hair that hung below her shoulders, partially hiding a pair of breasts that were thrust out begging to be touched. She wore a skirt that showed ample tanned thighs and calves that tightened as she walked on the three-inch heels. Her ass molded to the tight skirt had his cock straining his shorts, threatening to burst free. He sat down quickly, not wanting to show his obvious arousal, crossing his legs. She wore only light make up, her complexion clear, deep blue eyes looked at him, lips framed in a light red lipstick, her tongue slipped out to moisten them as she began to talk.

  "Our Board received your resume’ and was interested in your background with boarding schools in England before you returned to the United States, though, your previous position was short-lived. What can you do for us at Hollister School for Girls as Headmaster?” She leaned forward in her chair, her breasts straining the buttons on her blouse as she did, waiting for his answer.

  "I have extensive experience in managing English girls’ boarding schools and the problems associated with making young girls productive members of society. I am able to communicate effectively with the girls and work with them to change their behavior patterns. Many girls only have simple social skill problems while others have a complete lack of disregard for authority, each requiring a different level of expertise to make them productive enough to move on to the elite schools. Most of the schools where I served as Headmaster had girls from wealthy families, requiring a set of skills necessary to run the fine line of training the girls, always cognizant of the importance of the family honor.” Michael continued to spout off the line he had used for many years, to convince them that he had the answers to their problems, hoping that they did not know of his past transgressions. He noticed she listened intently, letting him continue uninterrupted. Finally, he paused waiting for some response from her.

  "We have some girls that are not from wealthy parents, with the same problems as the other girls. They are here on scholarships, most from poor rural families. This is their only hope, their parents completely entrust their care to us.

  "How would you treat a nineteen-year old girl, attractive, smart but inattentive in class, shy, withdrawn, but has bouts of being disruptive, often flaunting authority and sexually promiscuous?” She paused, waited for his response, watching him ponder the question.

  "Girls like that not only have the normal problems, but because they attend on scholarships, also have socia
l problems with the other girls at the school, not being on the same level. Many suffer from inferiority complexes, feeling not only that they cannot compete on the same academic level, but also cannot compete in beauty and sexuality with the others. They rebel in the classroom, to get back at their parents for thrusting them in an unnatural environment, and to get back at the other students. They often use their sexuality to taunt the authority figures.” Michael gave her the line of bullshit he had been using for years, smiling as he expounded the classic textbook answers.

  "And, how would you deal with this individual?"

  "Mild forms of punishment, detention, Saturday classes, kitchen duty, other forms of public punishment. Counseling also helps. I hold weekly counseling sessions with troubled students, getting them to understand their problems and how to overcome them without being disruptive. I have been instrumental in many cases helping to make these students productive members of society.” He looked at her, seeing a look of disappointment on her face from his answer.

  "Michael, you don't mind if I call you Michael do you?'

  "No, that's fine."

  "Michael, we know why you were asked to leave your last school. I really do not want to hear this line of bullshit that you are trying to give me now. Let me tell you about this school. The Hollister School foundation is built upon the English Tradition of Education. Do you understand what I am trying to tell you?"

  "I'm not sure,” Michael fairly sure what she meant, but hesitant to say it in case he was wrong.

  "I think you do, but I will tell you. We believe that to make some girls productive members of society requires more than the acceptable norm of punishment. We believe the method best utilized is corporal punishment, much like the older English boarding schools. Now, tell me how you would handle the girl we were discussing.” She smiled as Michael's eyes lit up at the prospect of a fresh batch of young females to control. She hoped she had him pegged correctly. She would enjoy working with him correcting errant girls.

 
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