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First Term at St Penelope’s – Day 01

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[[ Hi all — my first lesbian story follows. It’s meant to be fun, not taken too seriously.

I’ll flag the content after this line, it will count as mild spoilers, so if you’re feeling adventurous — jump right in!

The story concerns hazing of a new girl at a girl’s school — there’s mild coercion, mild bondage, mild trickery, and since one girl is the main character’s cousin … mild incest? There’s also wetting/squirting, and girl-on-girl masturbating.

It’s a self-contained story, but I might write more in the same setting if people like it.

Enjoy! ]]

++ First term at St Penelope’s — First Day. ++

Beth wasn’t sure what she’d expected of her first day in an English girls’ school. Her stepmother had told her that the rich and famous sent their daughters to this particular boarding school. Beth had imagined many different beginnings to her first night, but in none of them had she been left sitting in the dark, tightly bound to a chair, and positioned at the middle of the stage in the school assembly hall.

Beth hadn’t wanted to move to London, or the UK come to that. Her father’s new wife, a woman half his age and fewer than ten years older than Beth herself, had insisted on it. Beth hadn’t wanted a twenty-five-year-old British stepmother but apparently Lisa’s narrow waist, bombshell boobs and wine-dark hair had overwhelmed her father’s sense of dignity. Beth felt that trophy wives should be mounted on the wall above the hearth, but this one got to boss her father about as long as she kept letting him mount her in the bedroom. Or at least that’s what Beth’s real mom told her.

“He took one look at that tight little heinie and lost his mind,” her mom had said during a tearful goodbye at Dulles Airport.

Beth had left her mom beneath the low concrete scroll of the Dulles roof and disembarked jetlagged into the too-bright corridors of Terminal 3 at Heathrow. Her father and Lisa were waiting for her in the arrivals hall, Lisa with an overlarge stuffed panda like Beth was five rather than two days past her eighteenth birthday.

They’d driven her to their love nest. Lisa assured her that for London the detached house was both large and luxurious. Compared to the house they’d had in the Washington DC suburbs though it looked positively pokey, albeit of sturdier construction.

Beth had retreated to her rather small bedroom — again, Lisa described it as spacious for inner London — as soon as humanly possible.

“This is your house, darling,” Lisa smiled encouragingly having followed her to her room. “You can go anywhere except my workshop in the basement. I’ve got my art glass and kiln down there, so it’s dangerous and delicate at the same time.”

Beth allowed the woman to kiss her on the cheek then closed the door on her. Beth’s mom said that Lisa was as much an artist as she was a brain surgeon, and Beth didn’t want to think about what might go in that basement. Whatever was getting blown down there she doubted it was glass. She wiped at her cheek where the mirror showed Lisa had left a crimson kiss mark. The woman was unreasonably beautiful with long, straight, black hair, high cheekbones, and almond eyes of an unnatural green. Her kisses and embraces always left Beth unsettled, a mix of anger at the woman taking her mom’s place, and an uncomfortable physical awareness of the tight length of Lisa’s body that had, in her mom’s words, made a fool of her father.

“Is anyone there?” Beth had called out several times already. It felt like she’d been tied to the chair for an hour. “Hello?” She’d been fairly quiet at first, too embarrassed to disturb any teachers or caretakers, but now she felt this was getting silly, and she was getting steadily more angry about the whole thing. “HELLO!”

Her voice echoed in the rafters of the large assembly hall. Nothing but starlight lit the space before her, filtering in through high windows and revealing almost nothing. “Hello?” she shouted. “I’m serious! I need to pee!”

The girls had tied her to the chair in the dormitory and carried her to the hall, whispering and giggling. Her cousin had told her not to make a fuss — it was all part of the traditional hazing every new girl got. But this was too much. She was tired, the ropes were starting to hurt, and she really did need the bathroom.

“HELLO! LET ME–” Without warning someone reached over her head and a rubber ball filled her open mouth. “Mmmggh!”

“You were told to keep quiet,” said the girl behind her, fiddling with something at the back of her neck.

“Mmno!” Beth tried to spit the ball out, but the girl seemed to have strapped it to her head. “Mggh!”

The girl stroked Beth’s hair. “There you go, sweetheart.” She kissed the top of Beth’s head. “That’s much better.”

The sound of her footsteps dwindled into the distance as Beth craned her neck, trying to see. Nothing. She was alone again. The mumbles that escaped her gag had no hope of summoning help.

Frustrated Beth struggled against her bonds, then subsided into a breathless sulk. They’d let her go soon. They had to!

Beth’s kurtköy escort father had, at his new wife’s urging, arranged for Beth to come to St Penelope’s. It was private boarding school out in the wilds of Sussex and he’d arranged transport for Monday morning, meaning that Beth had only had to suffer beneath the same roof as her stepmother for the weekend.

On her first night, tired but too jetlagged to sleep, Beth had spent a long time investigating her new school’s website and googling various of the students mentioned in its newsletters. St Penelope’s was a well-known girls’ school, established in the 1900s. It had been turning out fine young ladies for generations. Her stepmother had declared herself an ‘old girl’ and had spoken of the school in rapturous terms, promising that Beth would have a marvellous time there.

Beth didn’t know a single girl at the school except for her British cousin, Caroline, who she hadn’t seen since her aunt brought her to America back when they were both thirteen. They’d got on well — more than well — but that was five years ago, and apart from an occasional message on Facebook they’d had little to say to each other since.

On the Saturday Lisa had taken Beth shopping for school uniform. The school’s nominated tailor was a small shop in central London, tucked away in a Knightsbridge side street. The assistants, two elderly ladies who looked like twins and had very bony fingers, had taken a great number of measurements, seeming to leave no part of Beth unpoked, including a number of private parts that seemed irrelevant to fitting clothes.

Beth had emerged from the changing room wearing what she considered an extremely ugly knee-length skirt in brown with an orange hem, a white blouse, brown blazer with orange trim, brown tie, ankle socks, sensible leather shoes, all topped off by a ridiculous straw boater with an orange hatband. Lisa had insisted on the hat. “You’re so pale darling. You’ll burn up if the sun so much as looks at you.”

Beth hadn’t bothered to point out that the Virginian sun was ten times as fierce as London’s. But she did have very pale skin, she had to admit. Along with her very black hair it had got her teased for being a Goth more than once.

“I look like a joke!” Beth scowled.

“No!” Lisa came forward and hugged her. “It’s lovely.” She smelled of lilacs.

“You don’t think it’s too small?” Despite all the measuring everything had felt just a touch too tight in the changing room. The blouse stretched over her chest, almost straining the buttons. And Beth wasn’t used to wearing skirts. This one seemed to wrap her ass rather too snuggly, and it felt strange to feel the air moving over her bare thighs. “A bit tight?”

“I don’t.” Lisa smiled. “You look adorable. So cute!” She set her hand to Beth’s cheek and then tidied her hair under her hat. “The girls at St Penelope’s are going to love you! Doesn’t she look divine, ladies?”

“Delicious.” The old ladies had nodded and smiled.

Beth had arrived at St Penelope’s late on Monday afternoon, driven by Lisa herself in the black BMW Beth’s father had bought for her. Lisa, wearing a white pencil dress and large black sunglasses, had stepped out to admire the old school. The place looked more like a stately home, abandoned out among the fields and small woods of the English countryside.

While Lisa was taken off for a cup of tea with the headmistress, Beth had been collected by her new form mistress, Miss Candy and taken off to join a French class that was already in progress. Beth followed the young teacher, self-conscious in her new uniform.

“Madam Dupont, this is Beth Summer, she’s joining the upper sixth.”

The French mistress, a stern-looking woman in her forties, looked Beth up and down, then indicated a free desk near the front of the class.

Beth could feel the other girls’ eyes on her, and see the quick exchanges between them, comments murmured behind their books. There was no sign of Caroline but she’d opted for the sciences and wouldn’t share any of Beth classes, except P.E – Physical Education — which Beth had been surprised to find was compulsory even in the sixth form.

During the lesson Beth had snuck looks at her new classmates and often found her curiosity being returned. The girls were a mixed lot but somehow they seemed different from her classes back in the States, as if there were some hard to define quality that marked them as English. The small French class had only one black girl, Cherry, a tall, attractive young woman with a riot of dark curls framing her face. And only one Asian, Sita, probably with Indian roots, rather petite, her black hair bound in a single braid reaching past her ass. The prettiest girl was Gwen, a blonde with wicked blue eyes and a body that managed to make even the St Penelope uniform look good.

The last lesson of the day would have been called gym class in her old school — at St Penelope’s they called it Physical Education — and all the girls in the year joined together for it.

“Beth! Beth! You made it!” Caroline came running, aydıntepe escort long auburn hair flying. She rushed across the changing room. Beth embraced her, abandoning her efforts to dig out the recommended P.E kit from her bag.

“I did.” Beth couldn’t quite force herself to sound enthusiastic about it.

They hugged and Caroline grinned. “We’re going to have some fun!”

“I hope so.” Beth was pretty sure that any fun would have to wait for the P.E lesson to be finished though. She’d thought her days of running around in the gym while a butch woman shouted at her and watched her butt jiggle were over.

The communal changing room was a shock. Beth hadn’t expected to strip off her uniform with an audience. Beth had been late to mature, but over the last year her mom said she’d grown practically a foot taller and had called her Bambi because she didn’t yet seem quite used to her own long legs. Her breasts had grown in suddenly too, seeming to overspill each new bra before its second wash. She’d graduated rapidly from AA to A, B, then C and was threatening a D cup. They were now tamed in a sensible underwired bra her mom had gone with her to buy.

Beth shrugged off her blazer, undid her school tie, then struggled out of her blouse before wriggling into her gym shirt, which had also come from the uniform shop since it needed to bear the St Penelope coat of arms on a small shield. Like everything else from the damn shop it was too tight and made her boobs look huge. Even Caroline seemed to be looking.

Beth hadn’t been expecting to show her underwear off to strangers and she had been thankful for the modest bra. Her panties, however, were far from modest. She’d chosen the pale pink lace bikini imagining some future romance, a party, a date at some expensive restaurant. She’d worn them today in rebellion against the ugly uniform her stepmother had forced on her.

Her solution was to put on her gym shorts before taking off her skirt.

“And what’s Beth hiding down there?” Gwen from the French class drawled in a very high-class English accent. She came across from the opposite bench wearing only her bra and panties, the latter plain cotton.

“N… Nothing.”

“Nothing indeed?” Gwen smiled her wicked smile. All the girls were paying attention. “Not a trans-girl, are we?”

“No!” Beth scowled and looked from one face to the next.

Gwen’s smile broadened. She really was annoyingly pretty. “It’s not a big deal. Daisy is.”

Beth followed the girl’s gaze to a nice-looking brunette girl at the end of the row. Daisy offered a hesitant grin.

“Oh.” Beth was suddenly mortified. “I didn’t mean it was a bad thing.”

“Don’t worry, American girl.” Gwen laughed and reached for her own shorts. “I’m just teasing.”

The lesson itself lived down her low expectations. Lots of bending, stretching, jumping and running. And as the new girl she felt under close scrutiny. Several of the girls, a willowy redhead named Charlotte, and Sarah, a sandy haired girl who would have been a cheerleader in any US school, seemed to watch her every move. Charlotte, Caroline told Beth, was Charlotte Chase — the head girl, and she came from a very well-off family.

“Oh! I looked her up. Her mother’s Baroness Chase!”

Caroline shushed her. “It’s gauche to talk about it. But yes. Charlotte gets to be called ‘the honourable’ Charlotte Chase. She’s practically royalty!”

Her cousin jogged along side her as the lesson headed towards an overdue close. “This is an old school with some … peculiar … traditions.”

“Uh, huh.” Beth was tired and sweaty and ready for a shower and a meal, not a history lesson.

“New girls get a bit of hazing,” Caroline said between breaths. “It’s just something you have to put up with. Or you’ll never fit in.”


“It’s important for them, Beth. For all of us. Charlotte’s particularly keen on it. It’s not done to make a fuss about it.”

“I said OK.” Beth wasn’t exactly looking forward to it but if she had to recite some pledge in her underwear or whatever weird shit these Brits had cooked up — she’d do it.

“OK.” Caroline seemed satisfied.

“I–” Beth was going to squeeze her cousin for some details, but Miss Chambers chose that second to blow the whistle.

“Hit the showers, ladies!”

“They’re … communal? No stalls?”

Beth looked on in horror from the communal changing rooms, which had been bad enough, but it turned out they had communal showers too. “What century is this place in?”

“It never really made it past the 1940s.” Caroline laughed. “You get used to it.” Without a trace of self-consciousness, she dropped her towel on the bench and went towards the half dozen girls already washing themselves. She turned just short of the first showerhead, “Coming?”

Beth’s cousin had certainly changed over the course of five years. The two of them had been thick as thieves when she came to stay in the States. They’d been thirteen, too old for dollies, sharing an early interest in boys and makeup. They’d failed to find any of the former tuzla içmeler escort and had been reduced to practicing kissing on each other. Although they’d both lamented the necessity, Beth remembered that they’d done quite a lot of it. Much of it in her bed, pressed up against each other in their nighties. Five years had made a woman of little Caroline though. Her figure had filled out, she had hips, perky boobs, a thatch of auburn fur between her thighs.


Knowing it would only get more embarrassing if she drew things out, Beth dropped her own towel and hurried forward into the steam. She quickly found a showerhead to stand under and started to wash herself, meaning to get the whole thing over with as fast as possible. She tried to keep her gaze on the floor and wished the steams were ten times as thick, like a sauna.

When someone stroked a wet hand down from her shoulder to the small of her back, Beth yelped in shock. She spun round, too surprised to even be angry. If she hadn’t been so studiously avoiding looking at anyone Beth would have been less astonished to see so many naked girls lined up before her, practically shoulder to shoulder, all of them grinning, eyes alight with excitement.

“W…what is it?” Beth’s arm had moved to cover her breasts. She forced herself to drop it in case the others laughed at her. “What’s going on?”

Cousin Caroline reached out and took her hand, drawing her forward. Immediately girls closed in from either side. Within moments Beth was sandwiched between her cousin and two or three other girls, all pressing their naked soapy bodies against her, their slippery boobs sliding across her. Strangers’ hands moved all over her, washing, stroking.

“I… What are you–“

Caroline leaned in, her warm body tight against Beth’s, squashing their breasts against each other. She whispered one word into Beth’s ear. “Hazing.”

A moment later the tall black girl from French class replaced Caroline, pressing the dark length of herself against Beth, smiling broadly. The pretty blonde, Gwen, replaced the girl to her side, grinning wickedly as she ran soapy hands over Beth’s hip bone and ass cheek.

For several minutes Beth remained at the centre of a slow-moving tornado of slippery bodies, smiling faces, inquisitive fingers. She recognised some of the girls, redhaired head girl Charlotte Chase, and ‘cheerleader’ Sarah from gym class. Others she hadn’t even noticed before they pressed themselves against her. Pubic fur rubbed against her hips — quick, anonymous hands slid across her breasts, cupping, weighing, pinching softly at her nipples. Girls giggled, waiting their turn, watching. Curious fingers wandered the crack of her butt or flickered oh so briefly between her thighs.

And, as suddenly as it had started, it was finished, with all the girls turning away to deal with their own ablutions, chatting and laughing as if nothing had happened. Beth found herself standing alone, her whole body tingling, her nipples stiff and wanting. Astonished and confused she went back to stand beneath the hot water and rinse off the lather still covering her.

Somewhat shamefaced, Beth followed the other girls up to the dining hall. Caroline sidled up beside her and took her hand briefly, with an encouraging smile. Beth filed in with the rest of the sixth form to the table just one down from the head table where they ate under the watchful eye of the headmistress and various of the form teachers who lived in. Further down the hall the younger girls had their meal with less scrutiny and more horseplay.

Beth ate quietly, not daring to complain about the rather unappealing stew. Every time she glanced along the table one of the girls would meet her eyes and smile innocently — this time, Sita with her long black hair and lashes so dark it looked like she had eyeliner on even though school rules forbid it. Beth looked back down at her plate, blushing furiously, remembering all those touches, all those wet breasts sliding across her. Charlotte caught her eye — the girl took a carrot off her fork in a dainty bite and smiled sweetly. Beth was pretty sure Charlotte’s had been the fingers that had spent longest trailing uninvited through the damp fur between her thighs. She realised, mortified, that her nipples were hard again and showing through the too tight school blouse. She bit her lip and looked away, blushing once more.

When at last the girls got to go up to their dormitory Beth was in for yet another shock. The sixth formers had bunk beds in a long hall, like a summer camp. She’d been expecting her own room and some privacy.

Caroline apologised, “I know! It’s awful. Like something out of a post-war novel. And our parents are paying through the roof for this place!” She grabbed Beth’s hand. “I’ll show you the loos. They’re at the end of the corridor. At least we don’t have to share with the lower forms. Thank God!”

The girls had sat around gossiping or doing homework. Several girls took time to make conversation with Beth, asking questions about America, what her father did, remarking how young her mother looked. None of them said a word about the shower incident. Beth spent a while talking to Daisy, all the while remembering how the girl had pushed her soft little penis against her hip when she’d taken Gwen’s place in the hazing.

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