Being a female at a private live in institution for nine months of the year can and does make you aware of your insecurities and sexuality, especially during your puberty. You find something that interests you and you become addicted to it and mark it as a dark secret in the back of your mind.
I had such a secret borne out of fact and experience, something that encouraged me time and time again to revisit until it engulfed me and became my master, and my body rewarded me with orgasms so powerful I would lay there twitching myself to sl**p, powerless to anyone or anything around me.
Read on, I think you might find it interesting that a girl like myself could willingly do this sort of thing.
Of course I was nervous, and afraid, I was just standing and waiting, they are worse than the actual punishment, or they are part of the punishment, the psychological part that messes with your head, what will he say, or do.
Rumours abounded about the headmaster, the man the girls never saw in our daily lives, an ogre who lusted for young girls, a wise old fashioned gentleman who was like everyone’s grandfather, and so it went on, the truth being, no one really knew, but that did not stop teenage minds having flights of fancy, and my own mind was as such.
f***ed standing in itself is a form of punishment, having the power of right on ones side, enables them to inflict this humility on a girl like myself, as I stood for near an hour, in one spot, to fight the silence with my over active mind on what lay ahead with my immanent meeting.
I felt like my bladder was about to explode, perhaps another punishment, and if it did, more shame and humiliation. What if, as they say, I am caned on my bare buttocks, it’s not the short sharp pain that hurts, it’s the humiliation of touching my toes, and his seeing the crotch of my panties, soiled with my girlish secretions, abuse of my vanity, for me, more sever than the raised bl**died welts on my arse.
The big door to his study opens and suddenly he is standing in its frame. I see immediately, he is old, and smallish in stature, I feel I am taller than he, which makes me feel more relaxed, as if he cannot hurt me because of his lack of vertical height, but as we will see, that was indeed, an illusion.
His face was stern as he nodded in my direction, and I started to walk towards him, my legs like jelly from standing so long in one position, and as drew close to him, I saw we were of equal stature, as out eyes met, then my own dropped in acknowledgement of his power over me.
That brought a meek smile to his face, his eyes were lifeless and dark, with only the slightest of upturning of the corners of his cruel thin mouth.
The floor was covered in a thick-pile carpet of reddish Paisley design and colouring, perhaps to hide the bl**d from the many whippings that girls endured?
‘Look ahead and stand to attention girl’
His voice was soft but commanding, I was beginning to feel his dominance over me, being seduced by a father like figure strong and domineering, yet soft and firm.
‘What do you see on the wall in front of you’, he asked?
The only thing there above his chair was a crucifix, with a Jesus figure nailed to it, and I said as much in a voice that would melt the hearts of even the strongest and cruellest of men.
‘Look again girl, open your eyes and study the man’
I did as he bade, but had trouble focusing, I needed to pee badly, I was fighting badly and my focus was blurred, so my brain filled in the parts, but again I was wrong, so horribly wrong.
‘Sir’, I wept, ‘I need to use the toilet’, now my pee was escaping, I could feel it, and held the dam back by contacting my muscles as tightly as I could, using my thighs, as a secondary measure, he saw that, as he stood behind me, he was studying my discomfort, knowing just the right buttons to push.
‘Stand easy’, he barked. But I could not, so I stayed as I was, my legs shaking.
Now he was right in behind me, I could feel his warm breath coming through my hair onto the nape of my neck, ‘Open your legs’, he said as his foot edged my heels apart.
I was powerless to resist as I parted my feet, with the assistance of his shoe, taping each of my insteps alternatively until my feet were apart by shoulder width.
I was squeezing my muscles so tightly I was starting to cramp up. ‘Answer my questions truthfully then and only then you may go to the toilet’.
‘Right’, I thought, ready to do as he suggests, until he suggested the catch, they must be truthful answers, otherwise an extra five minutes will be added to the time between questions.
The drip, drip sequence had now formed a thin film of urine around the elasticated tops of my black school regulation stockings, those tops gave two inches of bare flesh below buttock line for girls, so you could imagine my fear should the yellow dam burst.
There was no doubting the torture he was inflicting upon me with impunity, especially as he was always behind me.
‘Tell me what you see on the crucifix’?
I looked and focused hard, that’s when I saw the blasphemous abhorrence before me, Jesus had an erection sticking out in front of him.
‘He has an erection’, I said without passion or consciousness.
‘Would you like to have a cross like that in your bedroom, to look at at night’?
‘Don’t know sir’, I replied, confused?
‘I am not a religious person sir’, I added hastily, hopeful my answer would stop whatever he was thinking about.
‘I want you to go to that door in front of you and open it, without looking back at me’.
I was glad to break this awful stance, to move my legs and f***e my pee back inside me, so I moved quickly, opened the door, and gasped in part fright at what lay behind it, a full sized carving as like on the crucifix, without the cross, just an ebony smooth carving with a very large erection sticking out in front of it.
‘Go on then touch him’.
I swallowed hard, my mind swirling with thoughts, the biggest foremost was the size of the cock jutting abruptly upwards, and the girth, surely men were not like this?
‘Stroke him girl’.
I extended my hand and touched the tip of the glans, and traced its bell-like shape down to its base. My father has worked wood when making furniture, and often I have been encouraged to appreciate the craftsmanship that goes into wood, especially the tactile feel, the smell and smoothness reflecting the love and endeavour that goes into creating something so beautiful, so you can imagine the thoughts that were now provoking me to appreciate such a thing of beauty.
I even lost the impulse to pee, as my fingers tried to touch around the base of the glans only, I swallowed hard, even with my lack of sexual knowledge, this hard penis was stirring me, I loved the touch and as such, applied and appreciative loving dexterity when caressing the long thick shaft all the way down to the beautifully carved ball sac.
‘I can see you like it’, he whispered, as he was behind me again, this time reaching around to remove my blue blazer.
I felt him put his hands onto my waist and run them up to under my armpits, his fingers deftly touching my small brassiere, before descending back down my waist line over my hips and stopping mid thigh, as if searching for the tell tale sign I was in my school regulation underwear and stockings, which I was.
His hands retraced their descent back up my body to my tartan skirt waist band, and I felt the button pop and the zipper eased down. It was a relief on my bladder in doing so, but the only thing stopping my skirt from falling to my feet was that I was pressing my crotch against the wooden cock.
‘I want you to avow your love to the Christ figure, by kissing his mouth’.
The tortured features on the carved face were just inches from my own, and I leant in and gave the carved mouth a gently peck with my own fleshy pink lips.
‘A proper kiss, like you meant it, like Nuns do on the feet of images and carvings of him’.
If it’s alright for Nuns, then who am I to argue, as this little fetish was beginning warm inside me, so I kissed his carved smooth mouth leaving my saliva as a sheen as my mouth criss crossed his mouth and I passionately did as he bade me, and a small part that wanted me to. I even stopped stroking the penis to touch his cheeks to be as passionate as a Nun in loving her master.
As I kissed I could feel him behind me again, this time his hands were under my white blouse holding my thin waist and moving my lower body in small circular movements against his wooden penis.
New and fresh waves of total submission were flowing over me, as my clitoris awakened with the slight pressure and circular motions from the wooden cock, I was still kissing the mouth of this Christ figure I failed to notice my tartan skirt had fallen away to reveal my wet panties and black stockings.
I was sure he could see clearly my bum, and that my buttocks were involuntarily clenching as I humped and ground myself against it.
I could hear him mouthing ‘Beautiful’ and ‘Good Girl’ over and over as now all the actions happening were of my own doing, only one thing was needed to stop this becoming something I might regret in later life, the carved glans were against my belly button, and he saw this, as he placed a small box under each foot in turn to raise my height, he wanted me to penetrate myself onto him.
At last and now at full height I bent my head sown and continued kissing the face and licking the mouth, and the tip of the penis glans was now against my labia and the swollen clitoris, now demanding satisfaction, I was rubbing myself and feeling it move across my panties, which were a barrier to full penetration.
He saw that and took hold of my hips, pulling me away from the contact, and pulling my knickers down to my knees, by which time I was back onto the cock head and coaxing him inside .
I had never felt a tongue on my bum-hole before this moment, let alone feel one lick the inside of mine, as he pulled my cheeks apart and wiggled his around.
I gasped and then I gasped even louder as I felt my insides just explode sinking along the length of this man made cock, my pussy engorged on the impossible dimensions, as I humped it freely, a lot of movement thanks to hundreds of hours of sanding, and later on when he told me of the hundreds of girls before me, polishing his cock with the insides of out pussies, and vaginal secretions.
I turned to look at him momentarily, as I neared my orgasm, he was nude and masturbating, but more importantly, videoing me as he did with all the girls before me.
Every girl deflowered herself on the Christ like figure, it turned out his mother was a nun who was ****d and he was brought up in a catholic home for bastards.
All through school I got to watch other girls on his video collection and revisit that cupboard for a weekly fuck while he wanked himself.
We remained good friends when I left school and took my fetish into the big bad world. A few months back he passed away peacefully and left me his video collection, what shall I do with this fetish featuring girls getting off and surrendering their virginities. I am sure it would, if submitted for viewing, release a dam of semen, I could swim in?
A big kiss and a wink from me to you, think about it, Love Emma.