Forgiveness.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It was early summer 2007, I was sixteen and a half and in my final week of school. Exams were done, the long summer lay ahead and I was ready to play and finally be released from the shackles of education till the autumn.

I attended a catholic girls school and like most was reasonably strict. I had many friends but was also bullied. To distract myself from the latter, I became the school joker which landed me, on more than one occasion, in big trouble.

The school had a system called ‘on report’. If you was on this, after each class your card was marked accordingly to your behaviour. On report was the final step before being suspended.

Sister McDonough was the top dog. The head mistress. A rather plump and most often stern and scary women i’d say in her mid fifties. She always seemed to take a very intense interest in watching us girls play sport. A lot of parents considered it devotion that such a busy lady took the time to support us. Strange thing was, she seemed to enjoy and attend summer sports more than the winter ones which I found to be a bit odd.

Girls will be girls and now being sixteen, boys occupied a lot of my thoughts. Attending an all girl school does not allow for the daily male – female interaction of a mixed one, therefore the only real romances in daily school life consisted of lesbian relationships. This I guess is understandable and I never really took much notice of it. Being a catholic school though, those that where in such a relationship had to keep it firmly under lock and key.

Another pain in the arse for sixteen year old girls was the strict and bland uniform code. Whilst we didn’t have to dress as nuns, we couldn’t have make up, had to wear white frilly totally turn off underwear, below knee-length skirts, long socks and shoes. In my final year, I broke this code on more than one occasion. Id been sent home in winter for wearing boots, spring for having a “provocative” see through blouse and then with two weeks to end of term, bearing in mind my previous ‘wardrobe misdemeanours’ I was put on report again for wearing no socks and converse trainers.

I had matured at a steady pace. I went through puberty and was aghast at the bush growing between my legs so I shaved it all off. My breasts where firm, ample and pert. My legs were toned and tanned. I loved my long natural jet black hair. I was a confident girl and I had two months previously met a boy who I was besotted with.

We was still at the flirting stage but I wanted to move things on. I was and still am a big tease. In a nice way. It was the final week of school. Being the netball captain my girls and I where to play a charity match against the teachers and parents. A big crowd was expected and I knew my love interest would be watching. I didn’t give a fuck anymore. Today I was going to give him an eyeful, show off my assets and therefore dressed accordingly.

Gone went the bland white underwear. Replaced by a black thong only. No bra. I wanted him to see my tits bounce and juggle up and down. Back came the converse. No socks. I wanted him to see my toned and tanned legs. Team blue skirt was replaced with one that barely covered my arse and the white top was shortened so my pierced midriff was bare. Heavy dark blue eyeliner enhanced my eyes.

I remember it now, clear as day as we took to the pitch. It was hot. I was and looked hot and little did I know it was about to reach boiling point.

Stood on the halfway line was Sister McDonough. Every time I jumped I bared my muscular peach like arse. The muscles contorting accordingly to my stance. Every time I moved my tits bounced and swung freely. When I had to jump high to score, they once or twice nearly bared themselves completely. I enjoyed every second of that game. As it would appear later, so did Sister McDonough. The one error I made was my failure to tape my tits. The cotton rubbing against my sweaty nipples had started to cause serious friction and I finished the game how one would look going out on a freezing winters night in just a T-shirt.

Victory in the bag,slutty exposure fully accomplished, me and my sweaty girlie friends jumped in the mini bus to take us back to the school to shower and freshen up. I was the last one on the bus and at the front sat Sister McDonough. Cole, she bellowed. Report to my study immediately upon our return to school.

Our school had a very good record and a long and successful alumni. Back in spring the headmistress had said our year was the worst for general behaviour and lack of discipline. There was rumours that Sister McDonough took the most unruly girls to her study for forgiveness. I was about to have the most profound, intense and literally life changing experience upon discovery that ‘forgiveness’ was not a rumour but a fact. A highly charged sexual, perverted, voyeuristic, lesbian fact.

It was just after 5pm. The days heat was intense. Retained inside the musty receptionists office next to Sister McDonoughs study. There was no air con. No fan. No nothing. I took a seat, kicked off my trainers and massaged my feet and was reminded myself I needed to repaint my toes. I was actually glad I had only a black thong such was the lack of any kind of breeze. My nipples hurt and where protruding like bullets against my top.

I sat there waiting. Legs stretched out, perspiring and thinking only of getting under a cold shower if not just to soothe my tits! At 5.10pm the door burst open and Sister McDonough beckoned me inside. “Put your trainers on girl, pull down your top and come and stand by desk. Now”. I followed her in as she sat down behind her desk. Dressed in her normal black attire but wearing a loose gown as opposed to her normal dress.

Are you cold Cole? Pleased to see me or just a fucking slut? I was shocked. Id never heard or expected to hear such language from my headmistress. No Sister I replied, starting to a feel a little uncomfortable regarding her tone. I was also beginning to sweat more intensely.

Where are your socks Miss Cole? Are those trainers allowed Miss Cole? No. Remove them. So I took them off.

Nice feet Miss Cole. Is varnish allowed on them Miss Cole? No. Remove it then. A bottle of nail polish remover was thrown in my direction and there I found myself sitting on the floor in front of her removing the black varnish from my feet.

Right stand up Miss Cole. Your top. Your sweating and it doesn’t fit does it? Remove it. Upon receiving this command I stood rooted to the spot for a second. By now sweat was dripping from my brow and down my face. It was so humid and I begun to feel a little light-headed. My nipples where now on fire and my breasts stuck to my top. I literally peeled it off me and stood in front of my attentive headmistress topless enjoying briefly the air upon my naked chest.

That excuse for a skirt Miss Cole. Why bother wearing one at all? Remove it. And as for that black “piece of string” beneath i,t remove that too. So I obeyed. Too frightened to challenge or comprehend the situation I found myself in, I now stood naked in front of Sister McDonough. I had a headache, the salty sweat was flowing down my chest, over my sore nipples, creating a little pool in my midriff and continued trickling down my thighs and legs.

Turn round Miss Cole, bend over, touch your toes and hold the position until I say otherwise. I turned round and slowly reached down with my aching sweaty naked body and gripped my ankles. My breasts where hurting and hanging standing there. My thighs and back where aching and then it dawned on me abruptly that here I was in a situation I had never been in before. Totally naked, vulnerable and exposed. I had dressed to tease and show off my body but this I never expected. Only in the showers, my parents and my two best girlie friends had seen me naked before and in a totally non sexual way. Here I now was bent over, arse in the air exposing my bald teen and sweaty pussy to my headmistress.

Stand up Miss Cole and face me. I stood up, turned round and there before my very eyes still sat Sister McDonough but gone where her clothes. All of them. My inner thighs continued to bear beads of sweat but now a different form of moisture had joined the party.

Sit down Miss Cole. Keep your feet firmly on the floor and give me 50 sit ups. My god, now I was intoxicated by the heat, my vulnerability, the voyeur enjoying the sight of my now wet body and so I begun. 1,2,3 etc. Every thrust from floor to knees, working my pelvic muscles, tensing my arse and opening and shutting my now slightly swollen and dripping wet cunt.

I just about managed the 50 before collapsing on the floor in a naked heap. My heart was racing, my clitoris was swelling, my cunt had a pulse, my nipples remained swollen, hard and sore, my hair was wet and I wanted to cum. I felt humiliated, liberated, horny, mischievous and incredibly sexually aroused all at once.

I started to sob my heart out. Every single part of my body ached. My head was spinning and I felt alone, humiliated, confused and yet incredibly turned on. Sister McDonough left her seat and came and sat down on the floor beside me. Distinguished headmistress and pupil naked together.

She began to hug me moving her mature nude body closer and closer to me. Tenderly she applied cream to my nipples. Rubbing it in slowly, around and around my nipples before extending her touch to my breasts fully. Everything will be fine dear Megan she said as her hands wandered down my chest towards my belly and beyond to my soaking wet inner thighs. I was shaking yet frozen as her touch gradually found my swollen cunt. Her fingers slipped inside me like a knife through butter. I shuddered. I screamed. I sobbed uncontrollably as quickly she released the volcano of cum building up inside of me.

To this day, I have never ever released my juices with such power and force as I did then. I was an uncontrollable wet and sticky mess. And with that she left me to calm down. She dressed and exited her study swiftly. You have sinned Megan and have been forgiven where the last words she ever said to me. That was the last time I ever saw her.

I fell asleep and was abruptly awoken around 830 by the cleaners. Naked, dishevelled and clearly disoriented I grabbed my clothes and left.

As I share this with you now, 8 years older and 8 years wiser, twice I have had to leave my computer, such has been the urge to close my eyes, relive it in my mind and feel its sensation as best I can within, around as deep as is possible inside my cunt.

Most will say I was abused. You are probably right. Looking back now though, it set off, at first subconsciously, then consciously, such a chain of events that at nearly 25, even the most hardened porn star would be hard pressed to match my experiences.

It has made me express my sexuality, explore my mind and body on a much deeper level, given me some fun, got me arrested, twice and once nearly killed. I have plenty more to share with you.

Until next time.

Megan x