Fairyfield Grange

by Jason Argo

 

part 4

 

The following morning Sammy was in Mrs Pardoe's class sewing a plain white collar onto a small black dress. Sewing was one thing he hated with a vengeance, he was all thumbs with a needle, and half the time he spent with Mrs Pardoe involved needlework of some kind, so he didn't get on well with her. And he was particularly wary of her since the ball-bashing she'd given him the previous day.

Also he had a rather delicate problem. He'd felt an erection developing earlier and had thought it just a spell of 'morning wood' that would quickly fade, but it hadn't faded, and by the time he'd joined Mrs Pardoe's class it was tenting out the front of the panties beneath his skirt. The school teacher was mean at the best of times and there was no knowing the direction her temper would take if she discovered such a display of maleness. Mrs Pardoe hated boys being boys so certainly it would make her angry. It may even make her angry enough to use the plastic ruler again.

He knew just a few moments alone in the toilet and a brisk rub with his hand would solve the problem, but the moody tutor had made that impossible. When he'd asked permission to go for a pee she'd refused to allow him to leave the room, and she'd made him push his knickers down to his knees and flick his skirt out at the back in case he felt compelled to wet himself before midmorning break. She warned him that if he did have an accident he'd get six with her slipper and an hour of cleaning detention after supper, and just to prove how nasty she was she'd made every other sissy in her class adjust their clothing in the same way, which hadn't endeared Sammy to any of them.

The classroom was large, but contained only ten tables for the pupils and the tutor's high desk perched on a dais in front of a blackboard. The whole place smelt of chalk dust and polished wood, while the high ceiling and small windows gave it a nineteenth century ambience.

The sissies were part-way through making their own parlour-maid outfits, and Mrs Pardoe explained things a stage at a time because she didn't trust boys to remember much. The work tables were spaced well apart and she had her own measures for imposing silence during periods of instruction. Her students each suckled a pink baby pacifier and sat with their arms folded or with their hands on their head whilst she talked.

That morning Sammy wished he could cross his legs to hide the stiff stalk thrusting from his loins, but the underwear wrapped around his knees didn't allow him to do that, and as time passed he became increasingly concerned. >From the high stool behind her desk the schoolmistress could observe everything, and he knew it was only a matter of time before she deduced he was guilty of more than bad toilet timing.

Then something unforeseen appeared to give him a chance. The silence of the room was shattered by a bobbin of cotton rolling from a tabletop and striking the floor. The noise was minute, a mere plop, but it was enough to warrant the attention of Mrs Pardoe, who watched the reel skid across the linoleum with vindictive eyes. Because she was feeling bored she'd been waiting for a reason to assert her authority, and it seemed that some unfortunate child's carelessness had provided her with one. Her voice, so quiet and yet so sudden, made everyone jump.

"Yours I think, Jemima." she murmured thinly, her overly calm manner projecting the kind of threat all the boys knew well.

The culprits face paled. "M-me, miss?"

"Who else would I be talking to, idiot?" The woman responded testily. "Come and collect it, and you can also collect a smack for your inattention."

"Oh -" reluctantly the child called Jemima rose up and reached down to hoist his knickers, but Mrs Pardoe, peering out from beneath her eyebrows, told him to leave them draped around his legs and hobble forward. 'After all,' she reasoned while extracting an old plimsoll from a recess in her desk, 'I'm only going to have to pull them down again.'

Jemima was a pretty thing, but Sammy thought him a snooty bitch because he'd recently rejected one of his bedtime invites. He wouldn't have minded watching him get a wallop, but his own predicament was his main concern at that moment, and in a desperate attempt at salvation he thrust his arm in the air, hoping that the distraction with the cotton reel would be his ally.

The woman scowled in irritation at him, aware he'd pestered her previously, but this time relenting. "Go now, and be quick, an be prepared for some smacks when you return. I'll not tolerate my lessons being ruined by silly little sissies who lack personal organisation."

He pulled his pants up surreptitiously while she was concentrating on Jemima, then hurried outside. Smacks with a strap or plimsoll would be painful, but they were preferable to risking the ghastly measuring-rule whacking his balls.

Once away from the classroom Sammy was confident his problem was solved, but at the end of the landing he then saw Jennifer hovering by the door of the loo, and he remembered that on Mondays she always did a 'shine' inspection for her mother and paid particular attention to the cleanliness of the toilets. He dared not go near her in his present condition, so he risked plunging down the steps the floor below.

The ground floor was out-of-bounds at that time in the morning, but with the toilets within range he made a sudden dash, before coming to an abrupt halt. Marching towards him, dark nylons flashing beneath a short skirt, was Abigail.

The head-girl observed him keenly, noting the babies dummy-teat dangling from a loop around his neck. "You should be with Mrs Pardoe. What are you doing out of class?"

Sammy flinched. No one could ever ignore the menace of the double-tongued leather strap that always swung from Abigail's waist band. "I'm not doing anything wrong, I promise I'm not." he replied softly.

Abigail pursed his lips. "There we differ in opinion, I think otherwise."

"M-Mrs Pardoe allowed me to go to the toilet. She's going to smack me when I go back." Sammy muttered in a desperate small voice. He hoped the mention of smacks would deter Abigail from punishing him too, but it didn't work.

"I expect she is, but she won't be aware of you going out-of-bounds, so put out your hand."

Sammy's shoulders sagged. It was unfair, he'd done nothing really bad, but Abigail was going to strap his hand anyway, just because he had the authority to do it. Frantically he tried to think of something, a mitigating reason, anything that would help him avoid whatever Abigail planned. Explaining about the stiffness inside his pants was pointless. Abigail would just strap his hands all the same, and then go off to have a laugh about it with the prefects.

Whilst he dithered the head-girl grabbed his wrist and pulled his arm up level with his shoulder. "Hold it out - keep your hand flat."

Sammy's face drained of colour, but he knew he had no choice. Disobeying the head-girl would only lead to a spell in the dungeon with prefects coming to smack his bum every hour, so he gave in and watched passively as, slowly, as if savouring the delay, Abigail unclipped the evil looking tawse from his waist and measured the tip against the palm of his outstretched hand.

The first blow when it came was delivered with great precision and stung like a flame. Abigail never missed and never dulled the effect by overshooting the mark, and he knew exactly the right moment to flick his wrist and make the twin-thongs strike with the optimum sting. The tip of the straps lashed down and hit the centre of Sammy's hand with a vicious, sizzling swipe that made him whinny like a horse. His knees buckled and he bobbed up and down as he shoved the seared hand beneath his opposite arm to give it comfort. Then he noticed Abigail smiling icily.

"Other hand." said the head-girl.

Sammy's mouth contorted in horror. A two-hander! Now that really was unfair.

When it was all done Sammy was allowed to go on his way, but not to the toilet on the ground floor. He was turned about and sent packing back up the stairs.

He had a little cry on the steps. Well the strap hurt, and he was a sissy, so he was a allowed to have a weep and have a comforting suck on his dummy-teat whilst nursing his hot, throbbing hands. He resented Abigail's bullying. He was hateful, and he was only head-girl because he was the oldest pupil and his mother was the headmistress - and because he was better at lessons than anyone else - and because he knew how to boss people about - and because he was always smart and shiny - and because he'd got a big cock.

He gave the second floor a miss and took to climbing the steep and narrow steps that led to the dormitories on the attic floor at the top of the house.

Amanda was already there. It was the first time he'd been left in charge of a dormitory during one of Jennifer's Monday 'shine' inspections and he was pacing the landing nervously. Behind him the room he was responsible for was Spartan in its austerity. The pale yellow walls were unadorned, and apart from the heavy plum coloured drapes on the windows, which were too short and didn't meet in the centre, the place was cheerless; a mere space to accommodate half a dozen single beds and the tall cupboards that held clothing and a few personal items. The floor was bare linoleum, and the ceiling, punctuated by dark wooden beams, started low then swept steeply up to accentuate its proximity to the roof of the house.

The previous evening had been a 'shine-time' in preparation for the inspection. The floor had been swept and polished, then buffed until it gleamed, every horizontal surface had been scoured clean of dust and every scuff mark on the paint work had been sponged away. That morning everyone had risen early. The blankets and sheet on each bed were folded and piled at one end to make counting easy, while on the bare mattress a a mass of prescribed items had been laid out in a precise arrangement. A brimmed straw hat lay at the head of the bed, while a pile of blue gym-knickers and a pile of white summer ones occupied the foot. Other things lay in between. Toiletries, including a clean comb and spotless toothbrush, a pen-set laid open to show it was complete, little socks displayed neatly in pairs, and gym shoes, their soles scrubbed to remove any trace of dirt. There was also a small white training bra with diminutive cups that no one knew a use for.

Everything had to be impeccable and in its right place, and the cupboard doors had to be left open wide to prove the neatness of everything inside. To prevent pupils from making good any deficiencies by pilfering from other rooms a 'dormitory-girl' remained behind to accompany Jennifer, and to secure things after her visit. Miss Hancock was obsessed by 'cleanliness and order' and if her daughter spotted as much as a fleck of dust or ball of lint anywhere she adjudged it an affront to her mother and would return that evening to punish the pupil responsible.

More importantly for Amanda, she would punish the dormatory-girl on the spot for the laxity she perceived in not detecting the fault, so he'd just spent the past half-hour sweeping and polishing everything a second time.

When Sammy suddenly appeared he greeted him with something akin to horror.

"What are you doing here?"

The other boy raised his skirt and made a show of the shape bowing out the front of his knickers. "Got to get rid of this. Jennifer's inspecting the loo's, so the dorm' seems the only safe place to do it at the moment."

"You can't do anything like that here, I've just spent ages tidying up." fumed Amanda, "You're bound to make a mess, and you know how eagle-eyed Jennifer is on an inspection."

Sammy pushed forcefully past him. "Don't be a glunk! I won't make that much of a mess, and just a couple of minutes with my handkerchief is all I need." he said crossly.

Amanda paced frantically back and forth outside the door whilst Sammy stood inside and got busy with his hand. A few moments went by, and then Amanda 's face paled in alarm as he detected the sound of footfalls coming up the stairs. "Oh, Lordy!" he cried, putting both hands to his face and dashing inside, "She's coming up the stairs and she'll be here any second. Have you finished yet?"

Sammy leaned back against the wall and groaned hopelessly as his hand flashed up and down on his exposed erection. "No I haven't. I'm ready to do it, but I just can't jerk."

Amanda stared horrified at the watering bulb of Sammy's cock, then in a panic to solve the problem that threatened him he knocked the other boys hand away and grasped hold of it himself.

"Yes, that's what I need - I need a fresh hand." Sammy gasped as Amanda's fingers jigged wildly. "Oooh, yes, stroke my balls too. I'm gunna do it now - I'm gunna do it ..."

Where's your handkerchief? demanded his friend.

"Oh, I don't know - I've dropped it somewhere - ooh, oh, OOOH!"

Jennifer entered the dormitory in her accustomed authoritative manner, with a short black strap hanging prominently on her belt. For a moment she stood by the door, staring at the two boy-girls and half smiling as they each bobbed a curtsy. Then she moved forward, striding across the floor with leisurely decisive steps, her head up and her hard eyes searching the room for errors - anything that seemed neglected or out of place. Adept at minute scrutiny and able to detect the tiniest imperfection and the smallest hint of sloppy application, her reputation for faultfinding was fearsome.

Sammy and Amanda stood side by side feigning innocence, but fidgeting nervously as she halted and regarded them with suspicion. She was always suspicious when she found a pair of sissy-urchins secluded away together. They couldn't seem to keep their hands off each other, which was forbidden unless they were being directed and controlled by a female. Her petulant tone and thunderous frown told of her dissatisfaction. "Samantha! Amanda! Which of you is the dormatory-girl?"

Flustered, Amanda bobbed a second quite unnecessary curtsy. "I am, Jennifer."

Her eyes narrowed and moved to Sammy. "And why are you here?"

He swallowed hard. "Prep, Jennifer. I forgot to take my prep-book to class this morning."

"Forgetfulness! No doubt Mrs Pardoe will have something to say about that."

He nodded vigorously. "She's going to spank me."

Jennifer's thin smile returned. Young boys in gymslips looked so endearing, she thought, and having to wear girls clothes made them so respectful - so polite - so wonderfully humble. Their helplessness thrilled her, their dumb acquiescence was meat in her gravy and she relished every chance she had to make them squirm.

Glaring, she lifted the strap from her belt and coiled it like a sinuous black snake. It was a longer version of a prefects tawse, designed more for lashing at buttocks than for smacking hands. "Knickers down. Show me!" she demanded bluntly.

To many such an instruction would have been mystifying, but intuitively the boys at once knew what she meant and didn't pause to question her. With the room passed as okay she was now intent on inspecting those found in it.

Together Sammy and Amanda reached beneath their skirts and dragged their knickers down to mid-thigh, then they raised their gymslips to reveal two sets of young-male genitals dangling in innocence between smooth hairless thighs. If they had been up to something reprehensible they'd been clever about disguising the fact.

Jennifer paused a moment to enjoy the little show anyway. Not because either of them stirred any lust in her, but because she knew just how ghastly it made them feel to be made to pose like that - in a skirt - with knickers lowered - on the orders of a girl.

In fact Sammy and Amanda were beyond thinking of the daughter of the headmistress as a girl. She was a figure of authority with a strap, that was all.

She circled behind them, grabbing Sammy by the wrist and twisting his arm up his back.

"What have you been up to?"

"N-nothing, Jennifer." the boy spluttered desperately. After a moment she released his arm and confronted them again. Taking hold of the dummy-teat looped about Sammy's neck she studied it momentarily before stuffing it in his mouth.

"Both of you, down on the floor. Kow-tow!" she snapped.

They both fell to their knees then dipped forward to place their foreheads on the floor.

Jennifer stepped nearer and placed a foot lightly on the back of Sammy's neck. "Are you sure you've done nothing wrong?"

"Honest Jennifer, honest." the boy mumbled after quickly ejecting his dummy-teat. She transferred her foot across to Amanda's slender neck. "And you, you're not feeling guilty and have nothing to confess?"

"N-no, Jennifer."

Her foot pressed down a little harder. "Are you sure?"

"I've just been looking after the room, Jennifer." came the squeaky reply.

Drawing away she circled around their huddled forms and flicked up the back of their skirts to inspect their bare behinds. Nothing untoward, but remarkably pretty. It was little wonder so many men found such things irresistible. Convinced that some mischief had passed between them, she considered putting the strap across their little backsides anyway, even if it meant concocting a reason, but she then reconsidered. Best to reserve the strap for proven offences, she thought.

 

"Phew! We were jolly lucky to get away with just smacked legs," Sammy remarked to Amanda afterwards as they made their way down the stairs. "And thanks for what you did back there. I'd have been a dead duck if you hadn't been so quick to stick my knob in your mouth."

His companion gave him a frosty look as he paused to stroke some comfort into the sore red marks on the back of his thighs. "I didn't enjoy doing it. I only did it to keep myself out of trouble, you beast. I've never swallowed before, and you kept squirting and squirting."

"It didn't taste bad, did it?"

"You've probably poisoned me. Miss Twist says it's acid."

Sammy sighed and put on a lofty expression. "Silly dope! She said its made of sugar and chloride and citric acid - citric acid is what's in oranges, and it's not poisonous."

He tugged on the other boys sleeve. "I overheard matron telling Miss Hancock that food with a strong taste can affect the flavour of cum. That's why we have such awful dinners I think. She's experimenting. Miss Hancock wants sissy spunk to taste nice."

Slipping an arm around Amanda's waist he drew him close. "I say, don't be angry with me, darling. I'll make it up to you later."

His friend snorted his contempt. "Just how do you expect to do that?"

Sammy nuzzled his face with his nose. "Come over to my bed after lights-out and I'll let you use me like a girl. I'm a good fuck. Everyone says so." He kissed him, slipping his she-boy tongue into his little friends hungry mouth. It was no surprise when the sissyboys little lovestick got all hard and drippy.

Amanda pushed himself away. "Here you clot, you'd better stay away from me for a while. I don't want the same problem you've just had."

Partly angered, partly fearful, he dashed off ahead, leaving Sammy to make his way alone.

Sammy thought about returning to the classroom, but then he remembered Abigail and curiosity stirred. Abigail wouldn't have been away from class himself if he wasn't visiting someone in the dungeon. Who could it be? It was all routine stuff at Fairyfield, but mysteries like that intrigued him. He glanced at his watch. He'd been away long enough already, but Mrs Pardoe was going to spank him anyway, so a few more minutes wouldn't make much difference.

This time he made his way down the steps even more warily, wanting to avoid meeting anyone at all on this journey. When the closet came within range he raced towards it and peeped cautiously through the door into the darkness. "Hello! Is anyone in the calaboose today?"

Finding the wall switch he added light, and yes, there was someone in the dungeon. It was Poppy, naked except for stockings and a lacy black garter-belt.

Sammy stared, unable to take the scene in quickly. Poppy had been immobilised whilst standing, his arms raised above his head and tied at the wrists with a rope coming down from the ceiling. Pulled up onto his toes he looked like a marionette hung up in a toy cupboard, and to add to his indignity his mouth had been forced open and a hard rubber ball had been strapped between his teeth.

"Wow! What have you been up to?" Sammy murmured. He observed Poppy's face, noticing his wide brown eyes and how his lips formed a full circle around the grotesque ball-gag, then his gaze wandered. Poppy had a pleasing body that courted admiration, and to top it all he had a tremendous erection sticking straight up almost vertical against his belly.

"Crumbs, Poppy. You won't half get a walloping if someone comes to check you

and finds you like that

Unable to reply only Poppy's desperate eyes said everything about the turmoil he was feeling. He rolled his hips and shifted his weight from one foot to the other, making his penis shudder slightly, but not altering his awful predicament in any way.

Sammy was not unused to seeing attractive boys decked out in stockings and suspenders, the prefects wore them all the time, it was Poppy's helpless erection that fascinated him. He approached him appreciatively and curled his fingers around the uprisen penis to appraise the tension in the swollen flesh, making the boy moan as his hand caressed and drew down the foreskin to expose the smooth domed helmet at its tip.

Smiling crookedly he took his hand away and circled behind the dangling figure to view the shapely curves of his bottom.

"Mmm!" Poppy had a slender waist, slightly flared hips and a lovely girlish bum, and Sammy couldn't hold in a sigh of approval has he palmed the tender buttocks. Everyone knew

Poppy was a femme-boy who was always the bride and never the groom. He was fucked everyday by somebody or other, and was capable of taking on a queue of three or four without suffering any distress. Even though Sammy was slightly younger than he was, he didn't lack for confidence, and a smile touched his lips as he brushed the hem of his tunic thoughtfully.

"I've heard you're a super shag, and I'd try you out myself if I hadn't just been emptied." he tittered before circling round to view Poppy's erection once more. "I suppose I shouldn't leave you like that. No one should get extra whacks just for having a boner." he muttered aloud.

Again he took hold of the sissy-boys cock and dragged down the foreskin, this time making Poppy's pee-hole open and close and ooze forth a dribble of pre-cum. "Lordy!" he added excitedly, "I don't think it would take me long to make you go pop, Poppy. You're already leaking loads of girly goo."

The other boy moaned hopelessly behind his rubber ball-gag, returning Sammy's observation with a look of wild need and absolute acceptance. He had a handsome cock when it was up, and Sammy reckoned it deserved something more than just a quick hand-job, so without being too concerned about what he was doing he dipped his face down and kissed the wet tip of the prick right on the peelips, dabbing up the leaking secretion with his tongue before taking the entire smooth head into his mouth.

Clamping his lips around the firm stem of flesh just beneath the lower rim of the knob-end, he locked-on and began to suck, his mouth moving up and down while his head twisted a little with each motion to move the foreskin about in a corkscrew fashion. Simultaneously the palm of his hand curled under Poppy's balls to joggle them up and down. After a moment or two he raised his head and gazed up at the other boys face.

"DO get a move on, Poppy," he urged whilst masturbating him energetically.

"I'm only doing this as a favour, and I can't stay all day."

"Mmmo- oph!" Poppy shook and grunted. His lips thinned as they moulded obscenely around the black rubber and he couldn't speak, but his soft brown eyes widened as he desperately arched his thighs forward to urge a finish.

Resolutely Sammy again took the cock into his mouth and bobbed his face up and down, and for a few moments more the penis shunted back and forth along the length of his tongue. Then Poppy shuddered and moaned behind his gag in such a noisy fashion he stimulated Sammy to close his lips tightly around the base of the head. He felt the plum of the prick becoming firmer in his mouth as a continuous stream of plaintiff muffled groans squeezed out from the other boys immobilised mouth, and heart pounding Sammy hollowed his cheeks and sucked, eyes rolling under their lids. Mmmm! Better than a dummy-teat, any day.

Even though he knew what was about to happen it took him by surprise, as it always did. The prick in his mouth began to twitch, then Poppy's whole body went rigid for a timeless beat before his spasming began.

"Ummmm!" It was Sammy's turn to moan then as a flood of syrupy goo leapt forward to fill his mouth. His head jolted, but he hung on with his lips, breathing noisily through his nose while Poppy's erection pulsed and jerked.

When Poppy's body sagged and stopped moving he drew back. He'd done such things enough times in the past to be beyond being revolted and spitting everything out, and at least with Poppy matron had been right about the flavour. The femme-boy's cum tasted fresh and creamy with perhaps just a hint of spice - cinnamon maybe - not at all unpleasant, and really quite nice enough to swallow.

 

Miss Hancock was seated at her desk and didn't look up when her daughter brought Poppy into the study. Instead she pretended to be writing in a thick ledger.

Jennifer closed the door and frog-marched the limp-wristed sissy across the carpet, pulling him to a halt immediately in front of the desk. He was still attired as he had been in the closet room upstairs, just stockings and shoes, but since an element of decorum had seemed appropriate when being interviewed by the headmistress he'd been allowed to put on a pair of little panties. He stood before her desk meekly, his hands unbound but clasped behind his back, his head bowed. The ball-gag had been left in place to make it clear he wasn't required to speak.

Miss Hancock looked up at last, and seeing the young elfin boy so scantily clad seemed to surprise her at first, but she quickly recovered. "How long as he been in the closet, Jennifer?"

Her daughter placed her hands on her hips and glared at the miscreant with hostile appraisal. "Four hours," she said acidly, "But he deserves twenty-four."

The headmistress thrust back in her chair, spreading her fingers each side of the book in front of her. "I'm not pleased, Poppy. You've proved yourself a deceitful and sly girl, and Gloria informs me you're guilty of gross misconduct."

She turned a page of the book on the desk with the point of a delicate finger while her eyes continued to study the smooth contours of his body. The sight of him aroused her in a strange indefinable way, which was remarkable for anything of a male gender, but of course she couldn't possibly admit to it. A stern glare and an air of detachment masked her interest as she considered his near nakedness carefully - his trim shape, his dainty stance, his elegant smoothly plaited hair and his tiny pale nipples standing slightly proud of the peerless skin of his chest - all enhanced by an expression of helplessness in his doe-like eyes. Goodness, he could turn on the charm! Even after spending an afternoon in the closet he could still present himself as a juicy, girlish morsel. Ah yes! That was the attraction. He oozed femininity.

She cleared her throat. "Gloria tells me that she took you along with her this morning to Larkin's store to carry for her Poppy, and while there you slipped away into the back yard in the company of some spotty-faced store assistant. She tells me that when she found you, you were enjoined in a most immodest embrace, your chest was bare and the youth was - erm - 'plumping' your breasts with his hand."

It was a constant problem and one that would always be with her. As her little dears developed their feminine traits they became increasingly interested in men - especially well-hung men. And men were always keen to stick their despicable randy prongs into pretty sissies. She had no ethical reason for depriving her sissies of manly company, even of letting men fuck them, but if she were to achieve her aim of attaining some standing in the local community she couldn't be seen to be operating a whorehouse. Her girlies had each other - and Hardwick, and that would have to do until they were placed with someone in the outside world.

Her eyes scanned the pages of the book as she paused, seeking some appropriate words to bring the one-sided interview to a close. Finally she said. "Your behaviour today was irrational and inexcusable, there is no other way of describing it. However, you've been making rather good progress over the past two terms, so I hesitate to be excessive in your punishment." The book snapped shut. "Since for some time I've had you marked down for a weekend of assessment in my own apartments I'm reluctant to change my mind, and that will go ahead."

She glanced at her daughter. "Return Poppy to the closet, Jennifer. He's to remain there until supper time."

The moment Jennifer and Poppy had gone a stir of noise erupted from behind a vanity screen of arras tapestry at the side of the room, and Miriam turned her head.

"I must apologise for hiding you away Lady Diana, but you descended on me unexpectedly, and I'd already sent for the boy prior to your arrival. Dear Jennifer is an impetuous and wilful girl, and she would have likely burst in on us." She indicated her guest graciously towards a chair. "Please sit down."

"Don't concern yourself about offending me, my dear," the other woman responded, "Being tucked away enabled me to gain an interesting insight into the way your school functions."

Diana, Lady Chance-Barton was twenty-nine and carried herself lightly. Svelte, cultivated, utterly self-assured, she was a paradyn of the social set who always dressed to maintain her celebrity image. Magnificent emerald earrings were visible below her stylish coiffeur and a matching brooch glittered on the lapel of a fashionable silver-grey wool-crepe suit trimmed with sable that was an unquestionable product of Yves St Laurent. Her fine outfit was setoff by equally fine strings of faultless pearls that cascaded about her slender neck.

"You're be wise to be cautious, however," Lady Diana continued, "Not everyone is as broad-minded as myself, and there are people who claim a scandalous situation as been created at Fairyfield."

The expression of the headmistress took on a slight pique. "You mean Mrs Boroclough and her gossipmonger cronies?"

The elegant visitor smiled vaguely and peeped out from beneath her dark bobbed hair like a well tended marmoset. "Try not to think too harshly of them Miss Hancock. People who never venture far from their rural roots are bound to be alarmed by the cross-dressing of children, and despite the care you take in limiting access to your students it's quite obvious to the more astute that you put boys into dresses."

"Surely, Lady Diana, if that is the arrangement here it's a matter between parents and the school. It may be unorthodox for schoolboys to wear gymslips, but I'm not aware of any legislation that decrees exactly how young people should be dressed."

"You clearly take great care in thinking things through Miss Hancock, but I knew that anyway. As a member of the first family in the immediate area I consider it my duty to be concerned with everyone's business, and I know just about everything you do here. Don't let that alarm you, I've been an admirer of yours ever since you began your - erm - enterprise. What you do doesn't interest me greatly, but I've been impressed by the vigour you've shown in putting things into practise."

She reached into her handbag and took out a gold cigarette case and opened it slowly. "Unfortunately, rumour as it that you're providing some sort of charm-school for effeminate boys, and if that were true your agenda would certainly be questionable."

Miriam permitted herself a smirk. "My pupils are destined to be companions and servants for genteel people, and I believe they should be groomed to be as decorous and genteel as those who will employ them. I see nothing questionable in that. Nil nisi optimum 'Nothing but the best' is the motto of Fairyfield."

Diana's face became expressionless and her voice matter-of-fact. "Nothing's worth doing if nobody wants it, and by the number of coded advertisements I see in the Tatler magazine each month seeking transvestite maids you'll have an eager clientele awaiting your first protege - erm - or should that be protegee? Young girls are all well and good, but in households with randy husbands and grown rakes for sons they rarely last a few months before falling pregnant."

She blew out a cloud of blue smoke and leaned forward. "Look, it's pointless denying anything with me, I have spies everywhere and I know exactly what you're up to. You're creating sissies - turning boys into girlish things that you'll eventually sell to degenerate men and women. That creature that was just in here was a good specimen - a sweet young body - dressed right he'll easily pass as a girl, but in whatever way he's used he'll never make babies." She leaned back again. "Have any of your - um - 'maids' graduated yet?"

Taken aback by the sudden vehemence in her visitor's manner Miriam shook her head. Diana was a member of an old, prestigious county family and her support would undoubtedly be beneficial, but there was something rather clipped and antagonistic about her tone of voice at that moment that was disquieting. It was sharp, almost threatening, and she certainly seemed aware of the real purpose of her school. She felt a slight sinking sensation in her stomach that was repugnant to such a proud woman as herself.

"Things are slow to start in this kind of enterprise. Young people have many rough edges to be shorn away and they need to be trained. They'll remain here until their early teens, but everything is on schedule. I'll be ready to place my first pupil at the end of this term, and the momentum will increase from then on. I'll likely be seeking placements for a dozen and a half every year in the future."

"A bit like a sausage factory, eh?" The visitor offered a curious smile that held no humour. Self-satisfied in her status, high-minded in her opinions, she was patronising and clearly thought the school ma'am gauche and inferior. "Since their guardians won't have the slightest idea of their real value I dare say you'll take a good commission when you eventually sell them on. What will it be? Fifty percent of sale price?"

Miriam drew back slightly and her voice became mildly indignant. "Why, your ladyship makes me sound quite rapacious, and I'm certainly not that."

Diana ignored her inflection. "That limp-wristed flibbertigibbet that was in here, he's not yet in his teens but he's obviously as queer as a red lemon. Are all your pupils the same?"

"Some have a tendency for homosexuality before they come here and that can't be changed, while the others sometimes participate in a way that's common in all cloistered communities of boys. "

"It's no doubt desirable. Being accustomed to bedroom frolicking must make them easier to train as girls." Lady Diana commented airily. Noting with satisfaction how she had taken the wind from the sails of the self-appointed headmistress she decided to come to the point of her visit. It was time to peg the woman in her place and let her know who ruled the roost around here. Placing another cigarette between her glossy painted lips she clicked a lighter. "You're blackmailing my husband Miss Hancock, and I want it to stop."

Miriam smiled benignly. "Blackmail! Goodness gracious, Lord Chance-Barton as made some generous donations to help re-establish this old house as a place fit to use, but every penny was given voluntarily. I'm certain his Lordship would never accuse me of blackmail."

The other woman exhaled a jet of smoke and looked unimpressed. "Don't play me for an half-wit. Lord Chance-Barton as given you several large sums of money under duress. My husband as the misfortune of being too dull to manage his affairs properly, but I'm a different matter. I'll not put up with a person like you having dominion over any part of what belongs to me. I'm aware of the discreet visits his Lordship made to the orphanage in Harrogate when you were supervisor of that place. I won't dwell on the seedy business that was conducted there, but I know you had no small part in arranging matters, and lately you've sought to remind him of his previous lack of good judgement and turn it to your advantage." Her eyes suddenly glared out from her head as hard as marbles. "I won't have it! I won't put up with it, do you hear?"

In an added show of vexation she stubbed her cigarette into the saucer of a nearby coffee cup with great ardour. "Don't get too fond of putting on fine airs Miss Hancock. The people around here quite rightly expect their neighbours to conform to the decencies of society. What you're doing here superficially may be no more than controversial, even if it is unethical and unacceptable to many, but the hidden premise you work to is clearly beyond the law. If you refuse to do as I wish I'll use the influence I have with the authorities to close you down."

For an uneasy moment Miriam Hancock made no reply. She refused to let the other woman see beneath her tranquil veneer, and a curious silence hung between them until she regained some composure. Calmly she tried to hold her ground, her voice betraying nothing of her rising anger. "Be assured, Lady Diana, that now Fairyfield is on its feet no further donations will be required."

Lady Diana stood up abruptly, a slight suggestion of triumph on her lips. "That's settled then. I've no personal objection to the odd - um - formula you have for children's education, although it's unlikely you'll ever turn it into a lucrative business. However, by the fluke of the capital LOANED to you by my husband we appear to be in a partnership of some kind, so I'll discuss the matter of shared profits with my lawyers. If things go bottom-up for you in the future I'll have my money back from the sale of your property."

Miriam closed the door firmly as the woman departed, then crossed to the cabinet where she always secluded a carafe of dry sherry. Pouring herself a large measure she returned to her chair and sat down, leaning back to reflect upon what had just passed. Her face was grim now there were no witness's, and anger boiled inside her. Of all the men she'd provided for at the orphanage Lord Chance-Barton had been among the most degenerate, yet none of the others had protested half as much as he had when asked for a contribution to set-up Fairyfield Grange. Now his bitch of a wife was kicking up on his behalf.

She refused to allow the woman's threats to weigh on her mind too much. She'd always been aware that her ambitions would tempt people to rile against her and there'd be a need to contend with snidely arrogant, pompous, destroyers of reputations. First Mrs Boroclough and her self-righteous associates at the Women's Guild, and now Lady Diana. She was surrounded by assassins of a duplicitous kind, all ready to launch merciless attacks whenever it suited their own purpose.

Just a hint that she was weak enough to submit to Lady Diana's demands would encourage her sponsors to seek ways of wriggling out from their own commitment, and that would ruin everything, so she was pleased she'd had the foresight to maintain a precise record of things organised for people in the past. She had a book full of names, dates and sordid details of everything that had happened in Harrogate, and if things took a turn for the worse she had plenty of influential old clients to call on who'd be given no choice but to lend their support, or go down with her.

 

Poppy was returned to the closet, and with his wrists bound and hoisted over his head once more he'd been left standing in the dark to think over the incident that had caused him to be put there. His legs ached, his arms ached and his bottom felt numb, so thinking about other things was a way of escape.

The week previous Gloria had taken him to Peasmarsh when she went to place an order with Larkin at the general store, it being her custom to take along someone to carry parcels she may collect. The shop-girls had become used to gymslip-clad schoolgirls accompanying staff from the Grange and no longer stared at them over the tills, but it wasn't unusual for men to stare at Poppy when he was in the store.

The sissies of Fairyfield Grange eventually settled down to wearing skirts when they discovered all the boys around them wore them too, but some still became sensitive and embarrassed when taken to the village. Poppy never suffered from embarrassment. After all, he was gorgeous whether dressed as a boy or a girl, and he looked good in a frock. Even in a dowdy gymslip he could look provocative. He could smile and put on a wiggle - not blatant or exaggerated, but just girlishly delightful to watch - as the large number of gawking men around him always proved.

Last week had been the first time he'd seen old man Larkin's new store assistant, Judd. The youth had been standing at the rear of the shop with his thumbs hooked into the waistband of his jeans, a garment so tight fitting it seemed moulded to his body and needed no help from the thrust of his hips to emphasis his most interesting aspects. He was a slim, tanned, outdoorsy kind of youth in his mid-teens with a body like the Adonis he's seen in the common room. He had strong facial features topped with a mop of unruly hair, and a great big manly bulge in the front of his pants.

Poppy had been spellbound, and when he noticed Judd observing his entire body up and down with lazy sweeps of his eyes his heart had beat fierce enough to burst. Judd clearly thought he looked sexy and wanted him. And Poppy wanted him to want him.

Students from Fairyfield were never allowed out without a chaperone, never taken into crowds if crowds could be avoided, and absolutely forbidden to mix with 'outsiders', so an affair seemed utterly out of the question. But in his daydreams Poppy sometimes entertained the idea of amorous relationships with people not connected with school life, and he'd become obsessed with making the same trip again the following week in hopes of seeing Judd again.

That morning somehow he'd managed it. He'd even persuaded Gloria to allow him to wear stockings, which was important, because he was sure nylons made him look more glamorous and slightly older than he was. Once in the vicinity of Judd he'd flirted outrageously with him until the youth was circling like a wolf on the prowl. Then later whilst Gloria was discussing the competing merits of porridge oats and cornflakes with the shop owner, Judd had sidled up and slipped an arm around his waist. "Not very old, are yer? What's yer name?"

The young sissy had suffered a confusion which was heady. Judd was much taller than he was and he loved the way his strong hand had scooped him close. "I'm Poppy. And I'm nearly thirteen." his small voice had gushed in reply. He was really just turned twelve, but admitting such a thing may have made him seem far too young, he thought.

The shop-assistant had taken a cautionary look around and then leaned down to whisper in his ear, using the same moment to nuzzle a hot mouth against his cheek and send shudders of delight down his neck and spine. "That still ain't very old. You's such a dear little thing you probably needs someone strong t' look after you."

Poppy's face had tilted up and he'd responded with a swivel of his hips and one of his practised expressions; wide innocent eyes and a soft, slightly pouting mouth. "Yes, I expect I do need someone strong to take care of me."

Judd had given him a little squeeze. "I's been watchin' you a lot Poppy, and I likes what I sees. But maybe you are too young."

"Why would I need to be older?" he'd asked, presenting an alluring smile that showed his perfect teeth.

"Well, I's got a few things I's got a mind to try wi' a pretty lass."

"You have? I can't imagine what. But you're so big and manly, and I'm only a helpless little girl. You could do anything with me and I couldn't stop you."

Judd had then grinned. "Well, if you's come into the backyard with me, we'll see."

That was it! Gloria had found them just the way she'd said. Judd had taken him outside and started whispering lovey-dovey things, and had kissed him on the mouth until his knees felt weak. He'd been such a yummy kisser it had been impossible to remain calm, especially when he'd trailed his tongue down his neck and nipped lightly with his teeth. Nor was it possible to control the hands that stroked the seat of his knickers under his skirt and then moved up to expose his chest and squeeze - pulling on his breasts like he probably pulled on the tits of young girls.

He'd felt the huge size of virile thing straining in the youth's pants. It had been heavenly and had made his nipples swell had feel hot and tender, but Judd hadn't had a chance to do anything more. Gloria's interruption had spoiled any chance of that.

Judd was so manly, and he wasn't. Judd could have held him down and made him do all kinds of naughty things, because he was quite grown-up and not the sort to put up with nonsense from a silly girly such as himself. Judd had called him a girl and he wondered if the youth realised the adorable little schoolgirl he was fumbling with was really a boy in a skirt! If he'd had no objection to that and been happy to shag a backside Poppy would have provided his own without a quibble. Poppy loved being used as a girl and if Judd had undressed him he'd have gone down on his back and spread his legs like a girl, and he'd have whimpered and moaned like a girl all the time the youth was stuffing him.

It had been spiteful of Gloria to split on him to the headmistress. When they'd been alone later she'd slipped down his panties, got hold of his willy and drawn it forward between his suspenders and stocking tops, but he'd not made a fuss about her wanking him off. That was mainly because years of experience as a nanny made her so good at milking spunk from cock. The housekeeper, fat, massive and deadpan, had yanked on him with a full handed grip whilst massaging his bum-hole with the fingers of her other hand, and she'd made him sag against her and moan and sigh, and made him cum and cum and cum.

  

  

  

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