| I would start to get that familiar warm, liquid, floaty feeling inside me as soon as I was summoned to the front of the class. Then the teacher would tell me to clear a space for myself on her desk and by the time I was stretched across it, gripping the sides, my pussy would have turned to complete mush. Then I’d hear a drawer being slid open and I’d know she was taking some fiendish implement of punishment from it. If I caught a glimpse of her holding a leather belt or paddle my pussy would start to leak in earnest. She’d deliver a few spanks over my skirt first of all just to warm me up then she’d tell me to stand up and take it off. I’d then bend myself over the desk again for a few more spanks and increasing pain with my knickers feeling like they were glued to my pussy. And after that would be the inevitable awful moment when I would feel her cool fingers in the waistband of my knickers and they would be dragged down over my legs. My feelings of shame and humiliation would be totally off the scale as I knew that there would be tendrils of slime from the gusset of my panties leading directly to my treacherous pussy and that they would catch the sunlight shafting through the classroom windows and be so obvious to all. Oh the shame of it! But at least I had the consolation of knowing, as my poor bottom was being thrashed, that one of my classmates would be certain to tell the senior girl who was her lover all about my punishment and that she would, in turn, inform my lover who would summon me to her room that night and give me the seeing to that a spanked schoolgirl slut like me really needs. |
| There were girls of many nationalities at the school and I have to say that many were sluts before they got there. These foreign schoolgirls and particularly the black girls were always in great demand to be the seniors’ bitches. It was a kind of status symbol. I had a west Indian girl called Lucy at one time in my senior years. I loved her dark satin skin, the way her soft lips melted against mine like chocolate and the sweet taste of her pussy. In fact so overcome were my senses that I neglected to spank her properly |
| Still sobbing her heart out she begged me to keep her as my slave and not trade her as was the common practice amongst the seniors then when they tired of one of their bitches. I had to dump her in the end though because she became too clingy altogether and never gave me any peace. I think Lucy was the first person male or female to fall in love with me and I know I treated her badly. I still think about her from time to time so that must mean something. |
| It was no picnic being a bitch with two lovers as I was myself for about a year. If we ever complained about our lot, the seniors would simply say “Life’s a bitch, ain’t it?” This was so appropriate and funny that I think the saying must have originated way back in the dim and distant in a school just like ours. |
| The nuns were well aware that we were unlikely to reveal what we had been up to at confession so they used these examinations to try to gain some insight into our sexual activities. This could only have been successful in a limited way because when a bitch knew that a medical was due she would tell her lover who would not invade her ass with a strap-on that night and use nothing more severe than her hand if a punishment was required. If a girl was to face a caning by Sister Euphemia - the Mother Superior - she would have an examination beforehand to ensure she was fit for punishment. |
| You could always tell when one of the bitches had spent the night with a plastic cock in her ass because she would waddle down to breakfast and have to excuse herself from sports that day. But some of us, including myself liked it so much that we are still anal sluts to this day! |
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I went to a convent school in Hampshire in the UK. I was placed as a boarder so I suspect that I was an inconvenience to my parents. The school was run by a sadistic Mother Superior who, with a number of ordinary teachers and other staff, flagrantly flouted the laws banning corporal punishment in schools. They accomplished this using a very effective form of blackmail making use of the fact that most of us were more scared of our parents finding out about our crimes than we were of the cane, strap or whatever. However not long after I left a major scandal broke when one of the girls, the daughter of a politician, refused to be caned and dared the nuns to tell her parents. Foolishly one of them did so and the girl's response was to immediately inform her father of the cruelty of the Mother Superior and her staff. The father threatened legal action but the church managed to hush things up though the school was compelled to close. In spite of the strict regime there was always plenty of opportunities for us to misbehave as the nuns could not be everywhere at once and you can imagine that with a couple of hundred teenage girls on the loose, the misbehaviour was sexual for the most part. For me they certainly were my formative years as you will have gathered if you have read my other blog The Diary of a Submissive Slut. You could hardly be blamed for thinking that the beatings I endured and the sexual encounters I had at school were the primary reasons why I have little interest in vanilla sex now but personally I put it down more to an incident which occurred at home during a school break. Nevertheless my schoolgirl days make for more interesting reading, and writing, hence this blog. To some it may appear far-fetched but, to anyone even slightly familiar with the systematic abuse present in English public schools and other institutions, I am sure it will strike a chord.
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