The Hollister School for Girls Read online

  Michael grinned, so that is it. Maybe this job would be more enjoyable then he had originally thought. “An attractive, but shy girl can easily be handled with a little humiliation and pain. She could be bound, bent over the knee, her skirt hiked up; her panties pulled down and spanked on her naked ass. For more severe punishment, bent over a desk, her skirt and panties similarly partially stripped from her body, a ruler, cane or whip used on her sensitive flesh is more then sufficient to instill authority over her. I find that sexual fondling-usually forced masturbation-humiliates the subject. It could be administered in private or with others present, be it students or faculty.” His cock hardened at the though of inflicting that on a nubile young girl.

  "What if she was already promiscuous? How could you humiliate her sexually if she already finds that exciting?” She looked at Michael, curious at what his response would be.

  "Well you seem to be a very attractive woman. I would think that you masturbating her in front of some males-forcing her to cum at the hands of a female-would be highly humiliating. Making her engage in other sexual activities with females, either yourself, or even as punishment with other girls, while male faculty members watched, would be quite a deterrent to future unwanted behavior.” The sight of making a young girl licking the Chancellor's pussy excited him.

  "Very good, Michael. Our school is built upon the idea of corporal punishment. We do not use it on the wealthy students unless the parents expressly ask for it, though many of them do. But the scholarship students’ parents-if they have any, we have a number of orphans-must agree to allow us to use corporal punishment on the girls as a matter of their acceptance into our college. We do extensive testing of all scholarship students, looking for a female that is more submissive than the norm. You see, the Board of Directors, myself included, are extremely interested in corporal punishment in the English tradition. We enjoy watching the girls put through their paces. We have specially designed rooms where they can be adequately punished, with one-way mirrors available or in some cases, we like to make our presence known in front of the student, often taking part in making the student to submit sexually to one or more members of the Board."

  She continued. “Some of the richer parents, especially, it seems, stepfathers, like their stepdaughters to be punished and enjoy taking part in that punishment, training the girl to become sexually available to him in whatever form he desires."

  Michael was not completely surprised; after all, he had been doing this for many years in England and was sure that some campus in the United States would be doing the same. He smiled as he thought how lucky he was to find one.

  She smiled at him, knowing exactly what was going through his mind. “So would you like the job, Michael?"

  "Yes,” he responded, not even hesitating.

  "But I didn't even tell you the pay or the benefits,” she responded.

  "Do the benefits include you?” He smiled as he looked at her.

  "My you certainly are an eager one, Michael. As you mentioned, a woman administering punishment and sexually arousing female students can be a great deterrent for many girls. Yes, I enjoy participating in their punishment. This does arouse me and being left in such a state is not all that appealing. To be satisfied by one of the students as they watch would be extremely gratifying to me. As for you, I am not sure how two dominant personalities would work sexually,” she laughed.

  "Then, I accept. I can start next Monday, bright and early. I assume you will be available to show me the various facilities that would be at my disposal. I would also like to meet each of the girls. I can meet most of them in their classrooms, but I would like to meet the ten or so “scholarship” girls you have one-on-one, if you know what I mean."

  "Your salary will be $80,000 per year with a small bungalow available on campus for you to live in. I'm sure you will find that this is not a nine-to-five job, with many delightful hours spent in the evenings with our errant girls. I will introduce you to the Board Members so you may learn of their particular perversions, hoping that we can find some girl to satisfy them."

  "I have the bungalow next to yours and will be available during the day for consultation, should you need it.” She got up and shook his hand, his grip powerful, the excitement of their future together making her pussy tingle in expectation. “Good day, Michael, and I'm sure that we will have a very pleasurable time working together."

  "Thank you, Chancellor. And, what should I call you?"

  "Mistress would be appropriate, but not in public,” she laughed. “The girls call me “bitch” behind my back but my name is Meredith. See you Monday, Michael,” ushering him out the door, eager to go back to her office and masturbate, her panties drenched at the thought of what lay ahead.

  CHAPTER 2

  Mary Bridget, the Shy One

  By Wednesday, Michael had toured the campus with Meredith as his guide and was surprised how well appointed it was. Not in the traditional, educational sense but in how well it was appointed to administer corporal punishment on the girls now entrusted to his care. His office was richly appointed with heavy furniture, desk, chairs and tables, all suitable for students to be placed on or bound to for punishment and the rest of the administration building was suitably equipped. There were special rooms for punishment, with one-way mirrors allowing members of the Board of Directors or parents to watch as punishments were administered to the girls. There was also a large room, with a giant conference table in its center, suitable for a young girl to be spread out on, the Board of Directors seated around her with an intimate view of her punishment. Each of the rooms held a collection of bondage furniture, much of it specially made, showing an imagination and perversity by the Board of Directors that surprised him. He was astounded at the fine collection of whips, tawses, paddles, and canes at his disposal; a collection that numbered over one hundred implements for delightful torture. He would enjoy using them on a girl's flesh, able to use a new one each time, bringing about a variety of different levels of pain to the girl.

  Today he would begin to meet his students, paying particular attention to the “charity” cases of the school. His first visitor was Mary Bridget. She had been sent to see the Headmaster for not paying attention in class. Her inattentiveness was reflected in her grades; while she was normally an “A” student, her last test had garnered her a “B". Michael had read her file, an orphan, picked by Meredith because of her high score indicating submissiveness on the test they administered to all prospective scholarship students. She normally had high grades, but her test results also indicated she lacked self confidence and self-esteem, a loner, not fitting in with the rest of the students, especially the rich and beautiful. Mary Bridget was plain. Most who saw her would probably not remember what she looked like five minutes later.

  Michael studied her features and saw that she actually was a beautiful girl, a pair of dark rimmed glasses and lack of makeup hid rather than enhanced her beauty. She had a lovely pair of lips, her tongue continually pushing out her mouth to moisten them, Michael's cock hardened at the thought of how he could put her dainty tongue and full lips to good use. Her breasts were partially hidden by the school blazer, a glimpse of naked flesh between the buttons. Her breasts were probably small, tiny bumps on her chest but he enjoyed that. With small breasts, the nipples and areolas were usually large, filling the white flesh that surrounded it like large targets, targets his fingers would enjoy finding. He watched her crossing and uncrossing her legs, nervous at his leering glare. Her hips were broad, assuring Michael that she had a nice ass, an asset he planned to punish fully. The required short skirt gave him a good view of a lovely set of legs encased in white knee socks.

  Mary Bridget sat in the large chair, uncomfortable on the hard wooden seat. She did not know that Michael had placed it there so he would have full views of a student's nubile bodies. Headmaster Michael was standing over her with a long, wooden ruler in his hand.

  "My first week and you are the lucky one to first test
my abilities as the new Headmaster,” he spoke to her. “You will find that I am quite stern and use punishment as a deterrent to keep the bad behavior from repeating itself. You were sent to me for not paying attention in class. Your instructor felt that it was affecting your grades and I have to agree. What do you have to say for yourself, Mary Bridget?” He looked at her, hiding his grin, unable to contain the joy of the thought of his first student to punish. It had been a long time since he was deprived of such young flesh to abuse. Mary Bridget would have a long day in front of her in which to please him.

  Mary Bridget was nervous. The previous Headmaster had left her alone, although the Chancellor had bothered her somewhat, with her leering glances but never anything physical. Now she was in the Headmaster's office. Though her head was bowed in shame, she saw the way he looked her body up and down as she trembled before him. “I'm sorry, Sir, it won't happen again,” finding apologies usually worked.

  "Well, a sorry will not work with me young lady. You need to take pride in yourself, you are a very lovely girl, you just lack self-confidence. I am going to help you learn what you have to offer."

  Mary Bridget looked up at Headmaster Michael, surprised that he said she was lovely. No one had ever told her that before. She raised her head to study him more closely. He was handsome in a rugged sort of way, probably about forty-five years old. She had heard some of the other girls talking about him, saying that he was single, wondering why some lucky lady had not snatched him up. He looked like he took care of his body, suddenly feeling herself blush as her eyes came to rest on the bulge in his pants.

  Michael saw her looking at him, smiling as he saw her looking at his crotch. “Speak to me, Mary Bridget!"

  She looked up, shocked at the tone of his voice. “Yes sir, I will do what you say."

  "Sit up in the chair, don't slouch,” he ordered her, seeing her respond instantly. Yes, she will train well. He took the wooden ruler, a long one, over eighteen inches and began to lightly tap her knee, first one, and then the other. Each time he hit a bit harder until Mary Bridget slowly lets her legs part, smiling as she so willingly complied. He moved the ruler up higher, lightly tapping on her tender inner thighs.

  Mary Bridget squirmed in the seat, her legs partly spread, the ruler beginning to hit harder. She brought her hands up to protest, but Headmaster Michael slapped them back down with the ruler, smashing her knuckles.

  "Ow, that hurt!” she exclaimed, instantly realizing her mistake. “Sorry Sir,” she promptly stated and put her hands behind her back, her knuckles stinging from the blow of the ruler.

  Michael smiled again and returned to slap at her inner thighs, each time the sickening sound of the wooden ruler against her flesh ringing out in the room. He slowly forced her to open her legs wider, her skirt riding up, her arms clenched behind her back, unable to prevent him from forcing her to spread for him.

  "Yes, Mary Bridget, you will learn to obey. Now spread your legs a little wider so I can slap the tender flesh between them. You need to be punished.” Michael tapped the ruler harder on her thighs, the white flesh turning red from the constant barrage of slaps, her tender thighs exposed to the cruel instrument of pain. She looked directly into his eyes, pleading for him to stop, his smile his answer to her.

  "Good girl,” as she allowed his continual punishment of her thighs, “now hang your legs over the armrests.” The ruler continued its relentless pursuit of untouched flesh, moving up and down her thighs, first her right leg, then her left. He slapped harder when she did not immediately obey, the ruler becoming progressively more painful with each tap of the hardwood on her skin.

  Mary Bridget began to cry, her tender thighs unwillingly accepting the hot sting of the ruler, her hands sore from the ruler rapping on her knuckles, unable to stop him from making her slowly uncover her legs, her skirt riding higher and higher, her white panties barely hidden from his view.

  "Ow, please that hurts,” she begged, but his eyes stared only on her near naked legs, focused on his punishment of her tender thighs and slowly uncovering her body to his gaze.

  "I said put your legs up over the armrests. I won't tell you again.” He grew impatient with her lack of respect for his authority and slapped her right thigh hard, the ruler smacking her girlish flesh with a sickening sound that reverberated throughout in the room, accompanied by her cry of pain. The sobbing increasing but her legs reluctantly began to move. First the right one slipped over the thick wooden armrests, her leg dangled uselessly over the edge. She realized how obscene she looked, her legs spread wide. A tap of the ruler on her exposed inner thigh urged her to comply with the other leg, up and over the armrest, her already short skirt moving higher. She sat there humiliated. If he stood in front of her he would have an unobstructed view between her legs as she slid down in the chair, her legs spread wide over the armrests. “Much better, Mary Bridget. You are learning that it is much less painful to obey me."

  His eyes stared down at her naked legs, making her feel ashamed as she saw his hard cock jutting out from his pants, knowing that she was the cause of his erection. “Yes Sir,” she whispered. Her legs trembled, wanting to close as he moved in front of her, knowing that he would now have an unobstructed view up her skirt, her simple white panties her only protection.

  "Stay still,” he ordered her to stem her reluctance. He pulled his chair out from behind his desk, parking it in front of hers, sitting down, his gaze drawn to the darkness between her legs. She looked so good, her legs hanging over the arms of the chair, her thighs spread so wide. “You don't like me looking at your body this way do you, Mary Bridget?"

  "No, Sir,” she managed, uncomfortable as he stared at her. She hoped he was finished, but her hopes were dampened as she watched him slowly move the ruler between her legs, the tip rubbing up and down her thighs, each time moving in closer.

  "I find that humiliation teaches young girls like you to obey. See how responsive you already are? We have so much more to accomplish today, Mary Bridget. I will help you gain self confidence and using your body is one way to do it. You must feel comfortable with your own body and I can help teach you how, but you must cooperate. Can you do that, Mary Bridget?"

  "What are you going to do?” she asked nervously, afraid of the answer she might get.

  "You look so lovely in the chair, your legs hanging over the edge. I can almost see your pretty panties. I want you to pull up your skirt for me.” She was a beautiful sight, a young girl, her legs dangling over the arms of a wooden school chair, her skirt hiked up high on her thighs. He tapped her thighs with the rigid ruler, then let it slowly slide up the inside of her thigh, watching her eyes glued to the wooden ruler.

  "I can't do that! No!” Mary Bridget exclaimed.

  Michael leaned in closer, his hands on her knees, propped up high on the armrests. He let them slowly slide down her inner thighs, her legs still spread wide. “Hold still, Mary Bridget,” his hand grabbing her thigh flesh hard when she started to move, “I said hold still,” his voice firm. “I think you need to be punished more.” He stood up, towering over her. “Get up!” He ordered her in a stern tone, watching her jump at his loud voice, nervous now.

  She got up, his large hand gripping her arm tightly, pulling her over to another chair, this one a little strange. It was a heavy wooden chair, just like the last one, but the back was very short, a little over a foot high and covered in padded leather. It was wide, over two feet, with heavy wooden legs; wooden dowels connecting the legs together, about six inches from the floor.

  "Kneel on the chair, facing the back,” he ordered her, his hand pulling her over, not allowing her to protest. He watched as she reluctantly got up on the chair, kneeling on the seat, her ass already a tempting target. “That's a good girl,” his hands pushed her toward the back, “a little farther.” He watched as her hands gripped the back of the chair and looked back, a puzzled look on her face as he manipulated her body for his pleasure.

  She knew that her skirt was already
riding high on her legs, realizing now that she might just as well have submitted to lifting her skirt before, his positioning of her body now doing what she had refused to do, resigned to the fact that her panties would soon be grossly exposed to his gaze. She also feared now that she would have to endure a punishment for her refusal, afraid that her upraised posterior was what would suffer the punishment.

  Michael looked down at her body, so tempting; her eyes wide open in fear as she watched him prepare her, letting him have his way with her young body. He was pleased with the way she had finally and fairly easily accepted his power over her. He would enjoy Mary Bridget so very much.

  "You are being such a good girl. If you cooperate, I will not have to be so harsh with your punishment. But you must learn to obey without question.” His hands moved down to grip her hips, and felt her body tremble at his unfamiliar touch. “I want you to hang over the top of the chair, I will keep you from falling over, but I want your upper body draped over the top of the chair.” She began to move forward, his hands securely gripping her hips.

  She let her head fall toward the floor, her body bending at the waist, now understanding why the back of the chair was so low. She was bent at the waist, her hair fanning out before her and felt a rush of dizziness as the blood rushed to her head. She panicked when her center of gravity shifted, her body leaning forward too far.

  "I have you, Mary Bridget, trust me,” his voice soothed and her muscles relaxed, his hands tightened on her hips with a reassuring squeeze. “Now tightly grip the rung on the bottom of the chair with both of your hands. This will keep you from falling.” He watched her ass rise higher the lower her body went. He was pleased at the way she presented herself for her punishment. Her face, partially hidden by her hanging hair, her face turned red as the blood rushed to it, her knuckles white as they gripped the chair rung tightly. He nodded to her, acknowledging the anguish in her eyes. “I'm going to let you go, hold tight, you won't fall,” he ordered, then waited until he felt her body begin to relax before he let her hips go, her body sliding forward, her grip tightening as she learned how to hold the position without falling. “Very good, Mary Bridget,” his hand lightly tapped her ass.