Read Posy’s previous chapter here
The story continues:
St. Faith’s School, Surrey June 1953
I was awake early and lay in bed thinking about yesterday;s events. I hardly needed to touch myself, the very thought of the French girl in a brown overalls, Wellington boots and rubber gauntlets, humping the heavy kitchen bins, ending the day with her hair full of vegetable peelings, her face red with tear, was enough. I had watched most of her torment from a first floor window, camera in hand. Never had I inflicted such humiliation on a girl, never had I derived such satisfaction. I had broken her and we both knew it.
I was in my study just after morning break time when my secretary came in to tell me that Sir Percy Wyndham, long standing Chairman of the Governors wished to see me. I made my way to the Governors’ Room on the first floor. I knocked and entered. Sir Percy was sitting at a table. He motioned me to another table close by on which lay a sheet of paper and an envelope. There was no chair.
“The matter is of the utmost gravity Ranson” said Sir Percy. “We know that you are a filthy pervert and were prepared to tolerate your excesses as long as you ensured a supply of suitable girls for the gentlemens’ retreat. However your treatment of Mademoiselle de Lotbiniere cannot be tolerated. I have taken a telephone call from the Count de Lotbiniere this morning. He is furious and is driving to the school in his motor car as we speak.He is withdrawing his daughter from the school with immediate effect and will take her home later today. You may not be aware but the French Foreign Minister is a distant cousin. Your carefully planned humiliation of the girl is likely to provoke a diplomatic incident. Do you have anything to say?”
I felt my lower jaw trembling but was determined to be defiant.
“Sir Percy, I make no apology for the maintenance of strict discipline in the school. It is what the parents expect.”
“Discipline has its limits, Ranson, and you do not punish girls for your sexual gratification. If news of this gets out the closure of he school will be inevitable. On the table before you you will see a resignation letter with today’s date. The brown envelope contains a month’s salary in lieu of notice. You will sign the letter, take the envelope and leave the school. You are to vacate your rooms by noon. I have taken the precaution of ordering a taxi to convey you to the railway station.”
I felt myself shaking, I struggled to hold back tears but managed to say in a clear, confident voice
“If I have to leave, you will too. Do you not think I have taken the precaution of copying documents relating to the brothel and the involvement of both you and Sir Reginald Carless. I have no intention of resigning. I have devoted my life to this school and have restored its fortunes after the war years. I can agree with you that I stay as Headmistress for as long as I wish and, in return, the police and the gutter press do not get to hear about your involvement in the brothel.”
Sir Percy laughed.
“My dear Miss Ranson, you’re trying to blackmail me. And who will believe your words against mine? If we come to the libel court I can afford the very best silks who will make short work of you and persuade the jury that the documents are crude forgeries. And blackmailers never end well. The last to try was Catherine Spencer-Harrington and look where she is now.”
He took out a gold pocket watch from his waistcoat pocket.
“I should imagine she is scrubbing prison toilets at this very moment.”
He laughed again.
“So, Miss Ranson I advise you to do the sensible thing and sign the letter.”
Sir Percy handed over a gold plated pen. I didn’t take it but fell to my knees before him.
“Please Sir Percy, please, I have nowhere to go. I will be destitute. ”
I looked up at him, this time unashamed of my tears. He stood up and walked over to me.
“On your knees Ranson.”
I obeyed, knelt, not daring to look up.
“The governors are prepared to let you remain in your job but there are conditions. Firstly, you are to sign an undated letter of resignation which I will retain as a guarantee of your conduct. Secondly, you are to provide each term two of the older girls for service in the brothel.”
“The brothel, sir?”
“Yes Ranson. Sir Reginald Carless has bought a stake in the business and, after a refurbishment, we are reopening in September. Delilah will be running it on our behalf. I think you will find she is every bit as amoral and ruthless as Catherine. Less stupid too.”
“Yes sir” I muttered.
“And thirdly you are to report to me at 11 every Tuesday to be used for my pleasure.”
“A disgusting little Sapphite like you needs to cleansing that only the male member can bring. To be blunt, Ranson, I intend to fuck you weekly, repellent as you are.”
He unbuttoned the front of his trousers and pulled out his penis which hardened quickly and rose to the horizontal. As it swelled the foreskin drew back and the purple tip glistened menacingly. I had never been so close to the male appendage before. I shuddered as he took a step forward, grabbed the back of my head firmly and pulled it towards him as he thrust and pushed the penis into my mouth. I choked but he pushed again until his entire length filled me.
“Suck on it Ranson and swallow my come. And reflect that there is no finer taste for a lady.”
I began to suck and he sighed with pleasure. I sucked again and felt Sir Percy’s member harden and expand further. I was choking but he withdrew and thrust again, pushing into my throat.
“Please stop, please stop” I wanted to say but the words would not come out. My torment was soon over as he stiffened as though jolted by electricity, and steams of warm salty fluid flowed into my mouth.
“Swallow Ranson………and enjoy!”
There was too much of it to swallow, the taste was repugnant to me but swallow I must, as if my life depended on it which, in a sense it did. As Sir Percy withdrew and come began to dribble down my chin, there was a knock on the door. I looked round and froze. The Comte de Lotbiniere walked in followed by Delphine, who was dressed in an elegant skirt suit and stiletto heels. She fired me with a look of amused contempt.
“Bonjour Monsieur le Comte. Here she is, “ he kicked me in the side as I knelt, “the piece of filth, the ordure, as you say in French. She is all yours.”
The Count came up and pulled me roughly to my feet. He grabbed a wrist, tied a rope around it and before I could react, he had tied my hands together. The long end of the rope he threw over the chandelier and pulled it so that my arms were stretched above my head.
“I am going to make you suffer for what you have done to my daughter..”
It was only then that I noticed Delphine carrying a knife and a whip. She walked up to me and smiled.
“Not Bin of the bins today am I Madame?”
I noticed a sarcastic and disrespectful emphasis on the word “Madam” which, even in my predicament, I found wholly inappropriate. She ripped my blouse open, sending buttons cascading to the floor, took the knife, cut through my bra so that the two halves hug uselessly from my shoulders.
I heard the crack of a whip behind me and, suddenly felt its piercing sting on my back. I wanted to scream but bit my lip and held it in. Lotbiniere was not going to see me cry, even if this hour of her victory.
When the Count had finished and I felt myself about to faint, the stinging pain cutting through the blur of my mind, she came up and stood on my feet, digging the heels in. I creamed with pain, I could not resist it, and her spittle hitting me in the left eye was one of the last things I remembered before I sank forward and fell to the floor bringing the chandelier down on top of me. My face landed on her shoe which I kissed fervently, muttering,
“Je vous adore, je vous adore” Before everything went dark.
A post for Wicked Wednesday. See more wickedness here