by Carla Blake
“Bitches,” she hissed and pulling me to her, smoothed down my wet and ruffled hair before telling me everything was going to be alright and that very soon Ronnie was likely to have company she would never see.
No one came in and that surprised me. I knew Caroline had told them to go away but curiosity would usually have driven them back by now, if only to ensure I hadn’t had a fit and died.
“I locked the door,” Caroline said when I asked her about it. “Didn’t want that lot wading in when I was trying to look after my girl.”
“Your girl?” I repeated.
“Sure. You are, aren’t you?”
I nodded, inhaling the scent of wet uniform from where I’d been leaning against her and feeling her kiss the top of my head.
“Did you think I would forget you once you were out?” She said eventually.
It was the question that had plagued me all day, the worry that led me to the showers in the first place.
“I wondered.” I replied, hoping my voice was not betraying how wretched I’d been feeling. “There are so many women in here.”
“But none of them are you. I won’t forget you Rosie. I want to be with you. Really I do. God, if it helps, I’ll chuck in this job and find another, one where I’m surrounded by men!”
That made me laugh, particularly as that was my life away from these four walls.
“I’m sorry.” I said, “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“You haven’t, you daft tart! We’ll be okay, you just have to give us a chance, just like you have to give me the chance right now to get you dry before you catch your death.”
Leaving the bench, we moved into the changing room proper. It was warmer in there, although there were no lockers or coat hooks for hanging clothes as both of then were deemed too likely to be used as weapons. It did have bolted down benches though and these were padded for comfort. Sitting on one, we braced our backs against the wall and I leant back with a sigh, shivering when the cold tiles pressed against my skin and grateful when Caroline put her arm around me and briskly rubbed my shoulders.
“I suppose we ought to leave soon.” I said, rubbing at my bare thighs. “Won’t they wonder why you’ve locked the door?”
“Let ‘em. I’ll just say you were upset and needed a little quiet time, they don’t need to know the truth.”
“Which is?”
“Well, I think I should examine your injuries and then, if need be, kiss them better.”
And suddenly I wasn’t cold anymore although my body was still covered in goose bumps especially when Caroline carefully peeled back my towel and frowned at my ribs, my side and finally at my nipples that by this time had shrivelled into hard, little nubs all ripe for the taking.
“Now they look sore.” She said and dipping her head she drew one into her warm, soft mouth.
I melted instantly, the thrill shuddering all the way down to my toes as Caroline sucked gently, her hand on my thigh, stroking and kneading and edging its way ever closer to my pussy.
I spread my legs for her, eager not to hamper her progress and her fingers slid in, easing aside my rapidly swelling pussy lips and threading themselves into my cunt where they began to rhythmically fuck me.
I slid further off the edge of the bench, allowing her more room and gripping on for dear life watched as she screwed me, her fingers making me far wetter than the shower had done. It felt wonderful and despite the bruises that were starting to pull at my skin, I gave all of myself to her.
“Join me.” She invited. “Play with your clit.”
“No.” I said, shaking my head. “I want this to be all you. I want to only feel your hands on me.”
“Okay. I’ll have to move then.”
She knelt between my legs, uncaring of the hard floor and the small drips I had shed in my wake. Her fingers stayed inside me throughout, gently tickling my insides as she manoeuvred herself into a better position and then drove her fingers in deep, as far as they would go.
It made me groan and I pushed my pelvis towards her, eager to eat as much of her as I could. She added another finger, fucking me quicker and producing a wet, slapping sound as she screwed me harder.
“Hear how wet you are?” She smiled, “it’s gorgeous.”
“Hmm,” I replied and closing my eyes, reached for my tits and pinched my nipples, loving the tingle that instantly trembled through my cunt to intensify what Caroline was doing to me.
She kissed my fluff and ran her tongue over my clit and in response I gasped with the intensity of it all. She did it again and again, each time soliciting a deep groan of pleasure from me as my insides creamed into a lather and I rode her fingers, moving with her as she thrust in and out, in and out, each time pushing me ever close to orgasm.
“I’m going to touch your clit now.” She whispered. “And I’m going to rub it until you come. Are you ready? Is your pussy throbbing enough Rosie? Are you desperate for me to make you come?”
“Yes!”
She touched my clit and I nearly left the bench!
Suffused with lust, I begged her to fuck me, to rub my clit, to fuck me hard, anything that would finally burst this mounting bubble of want and allow me to tip over the edge into a fantastic orgasm.
And then I came, oh so fucking hard! I could feel my cunt gripping her fingers, no almost crushing them as waves of pure lust washed through me and flooded my cunt. My clit felt huge, my nipples like marbles as I came and came, Caroline’s deft fingers finding orgasm after orgasm until finally I could take no more and I had to ask her to stop.
“Really? Are you sure? What if I do this?” And she pushed her fingers even deeper inside me, curling the tips to stroke the upper roof of my cunt until I trembled and shuddered all over again, amazed there was anything left inside me still to find.
“There’s always one more.” She smiled when I finally came down from the last one. “You have such an amazing body and I want to fuck it constantly. I seriously can’t get enough of you.”
“Good, ‘cos I feel the same. And I intend to have you in my bed as often as I can manage.”
Day Twenty
I’m leaving today. I’m packed, I’ve said my goodbyes to those who I thought might give half a damn and I’m standing in the reception area waiting for someone to press the button that will mark the beginning of freedom. My parents are waiting for me outside. No doubt the car has been cleaned and polished to within an inch of its life and no doubt mum will have my favourite chocolates and a clipping from the local rag extolling my virtues. No doubt I will love it all. But I will miss Caroline.
She is coming to see me tomorrow evening, enough time for me to explain to my parents who she is and why I need her near me.
I really hope they like her.
New Girl
Elena Saunders stood in front of the formidable building and felt her insides shrivel with apprehension.
Bad enough that she was starting here in the middle of term, bad enough that she knew exactly no one here and that her parents, far from considering how she must be feeling, had arranged for her to attend Grovely Manor Boarding School without so much as a single discussion.
It had all been decided without her and now here she was, standing anxiously on the gravel, staring up at the numerous windows that made up the façade and sure they were staring down at her with stiff disapproval as she turned to look at her parents, the pair of them beaming up at the building as if they had personally been involved in its architecture.
Her father rubbed his hands together, “A fine school.” He said, “time we got you in and settled.”
She followed miserably, clutching an overnight bag whilst her father lugged her suitcase and her mother carried an expression of false cheer. This, Elena supposed, was probably her father’s idea more than her mother’s, a chance,
no doubt, to improve her standing in the world and gain an education that would set her up for the future, which would have been fine had she not already completed 16 years of education at a really posh grammar school.
But her father had always been extravagant with his money and as he had become ever more successful, so everything had changed. Bigger house, nicer car and daughter packed off to boarding school to ‘improve herself.’ Joy.
The Headmistress greeted them warmly, the cash till in her head no doubt churning out the first invoice as she offered them coffee and the chance to fill in numerous forms that looked to Elena suspiciously like a wholesale agreement for the sale of her soul.
They then embarked on the guided tour, the Headmistress leading them along cream painted corridors and past classroom doors with frosted glass and muted sounds of learning coming from within. Their footsteps echoed along the pristine, wooden floor, taking them to trophy cabinets where they stopped to admire the cups and medals and photographs of various groups of girls, all of them splattered with mud and grinning at the camera whilst her parents dutifully listed Elena’s own athletic achievements, which pretty much came to nothing.
Back at the entrance and now standing on tiled floors clearly put down to limit the damage down by muddy footwear, they paused by the foot of a wide staircase and looked up at portraits of past Heads and founder members of the governing body; the Headmistress proudly regaling them with Grovely Manor’s long history and outstanding reputation.
Elena didn’t give a damn. She just wanted to leave and go back to being ordinary Ellie at her old school. Why did she have to come here anyway? It was awful with its dark wood and oppressive atmosphere and the whole place stank of polish and age and she couldn’t imagine anyone laughing or mucking about or God forbid, being able to use a mobile phone or the Internet. She wanted to go home!
Her parents, however, were the only ones who went home whilst she stayed, miserable and furious with the pair of them for dumping her here in this ancient relic of a school.
“Would you like to follow me?”
The Headmistress had gone, handing Elena over to one of the staff the moment her parents had left. Now she was in the ‘capable hands’ of Miss Wingate, a forty something woman with short dark hair, nervous hands which continuously fluttered around the folder she was holding and an equally nervous smile that she fixed on Elena as she gently propelled her towards the stairs.
“It’s not so bad, you know.” Miss Wingate said as she began to climb. “Oh, don’t worry about your things, they’ll be taken up to your room directly. Everyone is very friendly here you know and I know it looks like a completely stuffy place you wouldn’t want to leave your maiden Aunt in, but believe me, we do have a giggle here from time to time.”
Time to time, Elena chorused in her head, oh my God. I bet it’s marked on the calendar every time someone laughs!
They reached the second floor and paused at the top of the stairs.
The carpeted landing stretched both ways, a multitude of closed doors standing sentinel at equally distances.
“The bedrooms,” Miss Wingate announced. “We have three girls to a room up here and there are two bathrooms. Each of them has several showers and there are separate toilets so we don’t get anyone banging on the door demanding to use the loo.” She paused then and chuckled, clearly waiting for Elena to join in. Elena managed a weak smile.
Miss Wingate pressed on. “The rest of the girls sleep in buildings not attached to the main school and therefore have to cross the grounds to get to class each morning, so you’re very lucky to be up here. This will be your room.”
The bedroom was a surprise. Elena had been expecting a gloomy cell with wrought iron beds adorned with candlewick bedspreads, posters of fluffy kittens or worse, maps, and a bare floor with threadbare rugs and quite possibly a pee pot under the bed. Instead she got sunlight and brightly coloured duvets, posters of boy bands and the smell of perfume lingering in the air. There were also pine wardrobes, one for each bed and a chest of drawers, flowers on the window sill and a long desk with two laptops sitting on it.
“You have Internet?” Elena asked, stepping into the room and standing beside the bed that was obviously going to be hers seeing as there was no duvet on it.
“Of course,” Miss Wingate replied. “Incredibly useful for homework and the like and how are you going to keep up with all the gossip from home if you don’t have e-mail?”
A tap at the door heralded the arrival of Elena’s belongings.
The porter who left it smiled in her direction, doffed an invisible cap and welcomed her to Grovely Manor.
“That’s Greg by the way,” Miss Wingate said once the suitcases had been deposited and Greg had departed. “He’s our porter and handyman. Nice chap, loves custard creams so don’t leave any lying around. Shall I leave you to settle in then? One of the girls you’re sharing with will be up shortly, help you get acquainted with what’s where etc, but do not let her fill your head with silly nonsense about ghosts and other such creepy goings on, because there aren’t any. Bit of a shame really, building this old should have at least one chain rattler don’t you think? Anyway, I’ll leave you to it dear.”
She left Elena alone, in a bedroom that wasn’t her own. Hefting her suitcase onto the bed she left it there and went to lean out of the window.
The June day was pleasant, with a blue sky and a sun that promised to stay all day and release its summer heat.
Sniffing the flowers, she inhaled their delicate fragrance but struggled to name them.
Turning, she examined the other two beds, one with a pink duvet, the other a pale yellow with matching cushions and a teddy wearing a red scarf.
She wondered what the other two girls were like and hoped they weren’t too posh because the last thing she needed was two snotty girls looking down at her and referring to their parents as ‘mummy and daddy.’
Crossing to her bed, she unzipped her suitcase and reached for Sebastian, the teddy bear she’d had since she was three. He was rather worn now and the stitching that was supposed to resemble claws had come away on the left one. He still had his little green waistcoat though and he still smelt comfortingly of home.
“Hello newbie!”
The voice startled her and she jumped, dropping Sebastian who landed back where he’d started from.
“God, sorry!” The voice said, “thought you would have heard me coming down the hallway.”
The girl who spoke was roughly the same size as Elena, although her hair was blonde, whereas Elena was dark and she was wearing a uniform plus a pair of heels that looked brand new.
“Freya,” she smiled, extending a hand, “one of your room mates. And you are?”
“Elena. Hi.” They shook hands.
“Nice name.” Freya said, plonking herself down on the bed with the yellow duvet. “Is that what we call you or have you shortened it to Ellie or something?”
Elena shook her head, she’d been known as Ellie at her old school and been on the verge of saying so, but Elena seemed to fit better in this place and she decided to stick with it.
“So what’s your story?” Freya asked, sitting up. “Been a naughty girl? Or is daddy mega rich and you’ve spent your life being shoved from one school to another?”
Elena laughed. “Neither. My dad does have money but sending me here is a recent development. I think he thought I would benefit from the experience.”
“But you’re not so sure, right? Bet you’re frightened we’re all right snobs hell bent on owing our own Bentley and marrying someone stinking rich so we can spend the rest of our lives shopping and pretending we absolutely love going out to lunch.”
Elena pulled a face.
“Thought so,” Freya nodded. “And you’d be right, some of ‘em are, especially the girls in room 6 so if you’re wise, you
will never go in there! Because I promise you if you do, you’ll come out feeling so unutterably poor that all you’ll be able to think about is ways to kill yourself.”
“Why? What have they got?”
“Most of Wales, one of ‘em, and the other two are set to inherit so much money they wouldn’t be able to get through all of it even if they spent a million quid a week for the rest of their natural. It’s bloody sickening!”
Elena laughed. “I’m feeling poorer already. How about you? How did you end up here?”
“Scholarship,” she said, flicking back her hair. “I may not be much to look at but I have a brilliant mind, darling.”
Elena giggled. “I bet you have, and what about the other girl?”
“Maple? She’s okay, aside from liking that lot.” She indicated towards the One Direction poster. “I mean, look at ‘em! Bunch of pussies.”
Elena glanced at the poster and then back at Freya. She didn’t mind One Direction herself, Harry was definitely hot, but she wasn’t going to say. “Maple is an unusual name,” She said, “is it a nickname?”
“Nope. Her dad’s Canadian and apparently he wanted to name her after a bit of the homeland. Could have been worse, he could have been called her Moose.”
“Who’s called Moose?”
Another girl entered the room. Extremely pale and so thin Elena doubted if you’d see her should she turn sideways, she peered at them from the deepest blue eyes Elena had ever seen. They were beautiful and she found herself staring.
“Contact lenses,” Freya announced from her perch, clearly used to the reaction her room mate’s eyes inflicted. “Our Maple’s an Albino, aren’t you love.”
“I am,” Maple smiled as she took a seat on the window sill. “Take these out and my eyes are even paler than my hair which is actually white underneath this colour. You must be our new girl. How’s it going?”
“Erm, fine thanks,” Elena said, “thanks for letting me share your room.”
“No choice,” Freya yawned, stretching out now and lacing her hands behind her head. “But at least you’re not strange, not like the last girl, she was bloody weird.”
