Chapter 10
For quite a while, after Tom's story, the company did nothing hut laugh and drink. It was quite late already when George asked Anne to be the next to speak.
Well, said Anne, beginning her story, I certainly can't promise to be as entertaining as Tom, but all the same I think v my story is an unusual one. In view of the time, I'll try to tell it to you as quickly as I can.
My parents had strict ideas about the bringing up of their daughters-there were three of us altogether-and the and of fifteen I found myself in one of those semi-religious establishments where the girls not only acquire a smattering of learning, but such social arts as dancing, polite conversation, and mothercraft, which, taken in that sequence, seem to represent a pretty logical sequence of female activity. My two sisters had already passed through this school and their bearing at the end was so raw, naive, and pitiably lacking in modern ideas, that my parents were extremely satisfied, and I followed them as a matter of course.
I found the boarding-school pretty unbearable, and the mistresses unhealthy, affected, ignorant, and generally frightful. Fortunately I soon made friends with some of the other girls, and, between us, we formed a common front, so that for at least for a little while each day we could act as human beings, and as ethereal prigs with whimperingly affected accents and apparently possessing no bodily functions whatsoever.
About the only popular class in the whole curriculum was the dancing class. Just about the time of my entrance, a new dancing master had been appointed and, as he was the only male in the shool apart from a ghastly Guy Fawkes with a red nose who taught science and who himself stank horribly, it is not surprisingly that most of the girls in the schools very soon fell in love with the young master. And not only the girls, apparently, but the mistresses as well, for his manner was courteous to all alike, and his soulful treated every individual in the school with the greatest understanding.
Very soon the news got around .that the young dancing master, Arthur was his name by the way, had seduced one of the girls. Every other girl in the school was furiously jealous, of course, but we made up for our jealousy by rubbing up against his body during the dancing lessons. Now most of us knew already how the male organs looked and functions, and we had a lovely time telling each other, after the dancing lesson, how stiff his thing was under his trousers as he tried out the various steps with us. After a while, by common consent, we made it so hot for the soulful young man, that his cock was never limp at all. By various other harmless feminine stratagems we also contrived to let him see our young breasts (that is, those of us who had any), our thighs during the dance, and our whole bodies as we rushed on prearranged signals at his appearance in the corridor, from the bathroom to our domitory.
Before very long, the young man had his nights full. More and more girls would slip away, after the lights were out, and would return an hour later, blissful, tired, and full of the most extraordinary sexual adventures.
The young man's capacity for sexual enjoyment lust have been quite phenomenal, because, by the time I managed to attract hit attention and obtain a rendez-vous, he must already have been going with about half the girls in the school, and, so rumour had it, with a few of the mistresses as well.
That night I serubbed myself very clean all over, put far too much lipstick (a forbidden article in the school) on my lips, dabbed myself in various places with eau de cologne, trimmed my toe-nails and my finger-nails, and, in my unfortunately not very flimsy night-dress, tip-toed from my dormitory to the dancing master's room.
I tapped on his room, heard the soft come in, and entered breathlessly.
He was sitting, fully dressed on his bed, smoking. He smiled at me. kindly, and beckoned me to approach. I came nearer, and stood in front of him. He lifted my nightdress with one hand (the other was holding his cigarette), rolled it up at my neck, took his cigarette out of his mouth and bit both of my nipples in turn. Then he placed me on the bed, stroked my body, from the top down, and opened my legs. He kissed me where I wanted to feel his cock entering, and then he said: If I do it now, my dear, I shall hurt you terribly. You see, the first time it always hurts, because my cock is a very big one. He laughed and added: I suppose that's why I'm always so popular with women. Anyway, he continued, the first time I shall do it with my hand, and as soon as young little cunt has been stretched out enough we shall do it together, and then I shall lie right on top of you, and my cock will be right inside you... Very skilfully, he played with my cunt with his hand, till my first orgasm had been reached, then he kissed me and told me to come back the next day.
Naturally, questioned by the other girls on my return, I did not say exactly what had happened. I allowed my imagination to run riot, and gave them a wonderful fictitious account of how his cock, which I described as being nearly eighteen inches long in the state of erection (I used this word very knowingly) had penetrated right inside me, and how wonderful it had been for me when his spunk (I had picked this word up from other girls) had shot inside me, like a shower of boiling water. This made the other girls laugh so much, that for weeks afterwards I was called Shower of Boiling Water. I didn't mind being ribbed about it, thought, because my reputation did not suffer in any way-on the contrary.
I went to see the dancing-master almost every night. It for a week or so he continued doing it for me with his hand. Then he taught me to do it myself with candles, and the handle of a clothes-brush and other things. Sometimes I did it like that, sitting in front of a mirror, while he photographied me.
Eventually, one night after I had taken my night-dress off, he put out the tight, and for a while I could hear him undressing quickly (previously he had always remained dressed). He joined me on the bed, lay on top of me, and allowed is cock to pass into me..
His cock was terribly hard, like iron, and I couldn't help thinking that even the wooden clothes-brush handle was softer. I wanted to touch his balls with my hand while he was fucking me, but he wouldn't let me. His cock, I must say, did seem enormous, and I was certainly well and truly fucked by the time he rolled off me. He must have enjoyed himself, too, because he gave me a passionate kiss, before he told me to collect my nightdress and to go. He wouldn't let me put the light on, and I had to fumble my way out of the room.
He used to fuck me, after that, about once every fortnight. The rest of the time we used to do the other things. He old me one night that he was now fucking every girl in the school, and every one of the schoolmistresses, and that's why, although he loved me more than anyobdy else he just couldn't use his cock on me more than he did. This seemed very logical to me, and I didn't complain.
Our dancing lessons, as time went on, became more and more lax, and once the headmistress caught us all sitting down, while the dancing-master was sitting down by us, smoking and telling us a lovely story about his sexual adventures in Italy.
"Girls, get up at once," the Headmistress said coldly. Although she was quite a young woman, she had a great sense of discipline. The dancing-master looked at the Headmistress insolently and countermanded her order. "Girls," he said, "you will stay exactly as you are." He turned round to the Headmistress, and, in front of all of us, first gave her a savage kiss on the mouth, then felt her fanny through her dress, so that we could all see the gesture, patted her behind, turned her to the door and pushed her out. At the door he said to her: "You can sleep with me tonight."
After this the dancing-master's authority was absolute in the school. He did just what he liked and noone interfered. At a certain point he also began to drink, a little at first, then more and more heavily.
With the increase of his drinking' appetites, his manner became more and more careless. Frequently now, during the dancing lesson, he would undress one of the girls, and compel her Co perform the sexual act on herself, while he and the rest of us watched. Soon this habit became more pronounced, and the dancing-clas es acquired the character of sexual orgies. We all now had to Cake our clothes off, while he sat with a camera, and took photographs of us as singly or in groups, we indulged in various solitary and joint sexual activities in front of him. It was not long before the mistresses had to follow our example, and the school very often resembled a nudist colony more than anything else.
Now I suppose everything would have passed off all right, had it not been for the science Master. Seeing so many nude girl and mistresses all over the place, the dirty stinking old man could not overpower his own temptations, and one day, in the corridor outside his class-room, he raped a girl called Sally Elliott. She didn't mind the rape so much, but she just couldn't stand the smell of the old man's cock, and she was terribly sick afterwards. Nor did the matter end there, because shortly afterwards funny things started happening to her fanny, and eventually the doctor was calle in, and then we all learned to our horror that she had venereal disease. The science Master had in the meantime disappeared, but after a two week's search the police found him and arrested him. At his trial he decided to reveal the goings on in the school, and the outcry in the papers was colossal.
While all this had been going on, the dancing-master had been drinking more and more heavily, and had become completely careless. The evening the police arrived at the school, for an investigation, he was playing the piano at the far end of the dancinghall, whie in from of him some thirty young girls were either dancing or disporting themselves variously in the nude.
It was at that moment that the door opened and the President of the school, accompanied by the police, walked in. The dancing mas ter went quite bersek. He pelted the new comers with his music, and everything else he could lay his hands on. Then suddenly he began ripping off his clothes. None of us had seen him in the nude as yet, and we all watched with interest. Imagine our consternation when the removal of the top garments down to the waist of the dancing master revealed a pair of breasts. Then the trouser and pants flew throught the air in the direction of the petrified newcomers, as the lower part of the body of a woman became revealed.
Never shall I forget that scene, nor my morbid fascination at seeing the strange leatter tube which the woman, who had masqueraded so long and so successfully as our male dancing-master had affixed to the front of her fanny. It was with this piece of leatter that, in a mad frenzy, she slashed the heads of the policeman as they closed in on her.
Of course, she was Certified insane.
It took a long time to pacify the girl, and to get them to dress themselves and go off to their tea. In my case, I have never forgotten the experience. I have never been able to love a man's body since, and I wonder often if the other girls in my class did not also suffer the same consequences...