Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
Author’s note:
I do recommend you read chapter one first, as much of this will make no sense without it.
Thank you very much for the positive comments from the first chapter.
It is not my intent or design to offend, so please be aware that this story has been written for adults of a particular kind: it is unlikely to be everyone’s cup of tea. This story contains mild elements of non-consent/reluctance, forced nudity, humiliation, “first time” and lesbian interaction. If you are likely to be offended by this, please read something else.
Please also note that this story continues to be a bit of a slow-burn. If you are after more instant gratification (which we all are at some time or another), then please come back and read this another day.
If you like it, please do remember to vote. Feedback, as always, is what keeps me going; the more feedback I get the faster the next parts will be finished!
Thank you, and I hope you enjoy!
Disclaimer: All characters herein are mostly, but not entirely, fictitious.
Copyright © 2016. This is a copyrighted work. Unauthorised use is prohibited. All rights reserved by the author.
***
I must confess I didn’t sleep particularly well.
Partly it was excitement about the new life I had entered into, about what my role might entail and about the duties I might perform.
But partly it was about the approach I had seen so far at Laxton – and what that might mean for my role and the duties I was expected to perform!
Nevertheless, the following morning I was awakened at six o’clock by Mrs. Dempster knocking on our door. She didn’t enter but I could hear her continuing down the corridor and knocking on the doors of the other girl’s rooms, most of which were in close vicinity.
As it was summer there was sufficient sunlight to see, and I watched Lucy stretch in the bed beside me. As the sheets and coarse blankets moved a little it was apparent she slept naked; I had not observed this in the gloom of the previous evening, but I admit I now enjoyed the curve of hip and flank that Lucy showed me, and I lay there wondering at myself as I surreptitiously stole a glance or two.
Tracy, the one who had answered Lucy as we went to sleep, was up first and she too, it appeared, chose to sleep without the fetters of undergarments.
I confess my eyes widened as she walked past, completely nude, opened the door to our room and, leaving it open, continued off down the corridor.
She was soon followed by our fourth roommate whose name I later gathered was Annie, and by this time I was not surprised to see that Annie, too, evidentially owned no pyjamas.
I felt considerably overdressed, attired as I was in a night shirt and undergarments.
“Come on, lazy bones,” said Lucy, slipping from her bed in all her naked glory, “we can’t lie about all day.”
I would happily have watched her as she stretched, arms above her head, breasts rising and lifting as she arched her back, but I had no choice and must arise. To her credit Lucy did not comment on my choice of nightwear. She watched me, apparently waiting for something. I was distracted by trying not to look at her breasts, again wondering at myself: only a matter of days ago I would not have thought I would find a girl like Lucy so appealing.
“Um…what do we do now?” I asked, feeling quite foolish, but awake barely a moment or two and already shocked into muddled thinking by the speed of the day and the volume of naked flesh.
“Bathe, silly!” said Lucy, and, giggling, reached for me, grasping the hem of my nightshirt and pulling it over my stunned head. “Come on, if we’re not fast we’ll have to wait!” she exclaimed, and as I struggled to pull my nightshirt from about my head, I felt her fingers slip into the waistband of my undergarments and pull them swiftly down my legs.
It had seemed thus far quite difficult to retain one’s clothing for long at Laxton. I sincerely hoped this situation would improve.
“After you,” she said, turning me naked towards the open door and the corridor beyond
I hesitated at this juncture, showing a certain reluctance to run naked out of my room into a corridor in which I had previously encountered several people, not all of them female. I do not think even in retrospect that that was an unreasonable thing to do, though it seemed to catch Lucy unaware because I heard her surprised “oh!” and a second later felt her body push gently into my back.
I was just thinking the sensation was not unpleasant when she pulled herself away and delivered a loud slap to my behind. “Move it, girlie!” she instructed, and I picked up my reluctant feet and headed out into the corridor, my head a-whirl by my nakedness, the touch of Lucy’s body and the mild sting in my left bottom cheek.
There were several girls coming into the corridor from the side rooms as we stepped out, it being yet only two or three minutes since Mrs. Dempster had roused us. I was bağdatcaddesi escort quickly surrounded by naked girls, exuberant and quite noisy.
They were also all, as far as I could see with surreptitious glances, completely hairless from the neck down. This made me seem strangely self-conscious about the hair I had elected to retain, but I stubbornly vowed that I would leave it just so until such time as I was instructed differently – and I could not envisage anyone here giving me such an order. I admit that some of my reluctance was the thought of taking a razor to that part of myself.
As a gaggle we made our way down the corridors to the washroom I had seen the day before. I hid amongst the crowd, using it as my cover, but we encountered no one else as we passed save for some other similarly un-clad girls who joined us.
The washroom was already quite occupied and our group seemed to acquire certain items from the central table and quickly disperse to the various available shower-heads, some moving instead to the unenclosed water-closets found at the far end of the room.
I approached the centre table with Lucy and observed a number of bathroom items: sponges, of the type we used at home only much larger; sprawling cotton puffs; various soaps; oils that I did not recognise; several clean razors like the one I had used yesterday and sticks of shaving soap; nail scissors and files – the selection seemed endless. Following Lucy’s example, I quickly chose a good-sized sponge and helped myself to a soap, a razor and a stick of shaving soap. I followed her to the shower heads, thinking that, if I must shower nude before strangers then being next to Lucy was surely preferable.
I soon had my shower presenting a decent-temperature spray, though understandably the pressure of the water was quite a lot reduced compared to the day before. I thought hard about water pressure, plumbing, volume-to-flow ratios and what not as I soaped myself up with my sponge; despite knowing very little about plumbing this speculation was preferable, I decided, to focusing on the events around me that were difficult to not see: to one side, Lucy washing her good-sized breasts as she chatted to the girl one over from me; to my other side two girls sharing a shower and were evidentially washing each other, giggling; down the far end of the hall girls attended to their morning toileting, apparently not at all uncomfortable to be doing so with spectators (I was not looking forward to that); and generally a mayhem of naked, active, wet girls splashing water at one another as they laughed and went about their morning ablutions.
Initially there was far too much naked flesh given my reserved upbringing, but eventually I realised that there was an equality in all being nude, and that no one (other than I) seemed uncomfortable. Clearly it was a frequent – presumably at least daily – practice, and supposably one becomes used to it all.
At that moment I decided I was not going to be cowed by this and need no longer face the wall timidly, trying to hide myself in a room full of nudity and openness. I resolved to be more open and free with my outlook, and turned to face the room as I washed.
Lucy seemed to notice instantly and smiled at me. I was coming to learn that she was amazingly perceptive and it was perhaps no mere coincidence that she had been assigned as my guide during these initial days.
I watched as she stepped from her shower to mine, and moved slightly to give her room beneath the water. Another girl quickly took Lucy’s previous place as the washroom continued to fill up.
I looked curiously into Lucy’s eyes, my new-found boldness retreating under this sudden proximity. “Would you like me to wash your back?” she asked quietly. Though I hesitated for a moment her generous smile persuaded me, and I nodded slightly jerkily but turned to face away, presenting my back to her.
Immediately I felt her hands on me, rubbing soap suds over my shoulders and following it with her sponge. I felt my breath catch in my throat to be so touched, not having been bathed by another since I was an infant, and now a girl of stunning beauty stood behind me, soaping my skin. Quickly the sponge travelled down my back, moving in spirals as Lucy cleaned me, and so good did it feel that I was loathe for it to be over too soon. Lucy had other ideas though, or a broader definition than I of the word ‘back’, for next I felt her hands washing my bottom and it felt as much a caress as a cleansing.
She squeezed my bottom and my breath caught again, and I was torn between wishing to push myself back into her touch or lean forward to give her better access.
All too soon she finished, and with a rude, startling slap to one cheek she announced, “You’re done.”
It took me a moment to steady myself, and my stomach was still doing flips.
She slipped under the showerhead in front of me, placing her hands on the wall before us, her gorgeous beykoz escort bottom pushing back towards me a little, “Do me, please.”
How could I resist.
As I soaped up my sponge and applied it to her shoulders I considered my reaction to her. Admittedly I had surprised myself by how much Lucy intrigued me, having never considered another woman as even an object of beauty, but then there was no denying that women are beautiful (and perhaps not more than men, but certainly in a different, softer way that had incontestable appeal) and I say that even now without reference to sexuality, but merely a statement of aesthetics: the form of a woman is most pleasing on the eye. And Lucy’s form in particular.
Even so I was careful not to touch her, except with the sponge. I feared being regarded as being too forward, were I to touch her – even inadvertently – in a way that might offend. The whole situation made me nervous – albeit in a way that perhaps, secretly, I enjoyed. I did not yet know, nor understand, the rules here at Laxton; but moreover I was not quite certain of my own feelings in this matter. Essentially I was quite confused: I had been thrust, without consideration or consent, into a world of nakedness and femininity that I had never before even so much as dreamed was possible, and my reserved upbringing was fighting with the extremes of hedonism that seemed to define Laxton.
Perhaps this was why my sponge was applied almost tentatively, and immediately I heard her murmur, “Harder.” I applied myself with more vigour, and she seemed to purr in response, arching her back under my touch. My eyes were on her perfectly-shaped bottom as it pushed out towards me. Once I had done her shoulders and back I slowed, hesitating, expecting her to stop me as clearly the other areas she could reach herself.
She, however, had other designs. “Mmm, lovely,” I heard her say, and then, “Go lower.”
I hesitated, the sponge already at the level of the small of her back.
Ever so slightly she wiggled her bottom at me.
I dipped the sponge down, almost expecting her to straighten and thank me, and feared the coolness with which she would do so and the distance our relationship might then acquire. It mattered not that, just a moment earlier, she had soaped my derriere with delight, and not merely with the sponge; what she did to me and I did to her were, in my mind at least, very different matters.
Yet as I slid the soapy sponge down over her rump I was met only with a quiet murmur of approval, and as I rubbed from one to the other, watching as the bubbles collected in the exquisite crack between her cheeks, she simply pushed her bottom out towards me a fraction more. “Lower, please, Emily,” she said.
Lower still?
I chewed nervously on my lower lip, but did as bid; it would seem churlish to refuse after how nice Lucy had been to me. Lowering to a kneel behind her, one knee to the slick tiles of the washroom floor, I pulled the sponge slowly down the back of her thighs, washing first one leg than the other. She spread her legs slightly, I’m sure to make the task easier for me. But I could not help but find my position incredibly intimate, her bottom jutting back slightly, her legs spread, with me between them, looking up at her nakedness, her ever-so-close nakedness…and at her smooth, perfect, shaven sex.
“You two almost done?” came a voice behind me, and I started so much I almost lost my balance. Lucy jumped too, it seemed, and I wonder if she had been lost in the moment as much as I.
I stood quickly and turned around, unable to hide the deepness of the blush that came upon me in being caught in such a tableau, but Lucy was perfectly collected and unruffled. “Yes, just about,” she said, stepping directly under the shower to rinse off the soap.
It had been only a few moments since we had entered the washroom but now it was very busy, and it was clear to see that there were several girls waiting their turn. Lucy had, by now, finished rinsing. “Come here, Emily,” she said, taking me gently by the hand and pulling me under the shower. I did not resist but had to bite my lip again as I felt Lucy run her hand over my wet skin, presumably, ostensibly, to rinse off soap I had missed. Her palm ran flat over my shoulder and down over one breast and then the other, though I could not see any soap there. I felt her hand pressing against my nipple briefly before slipping down over my stomach, and I fought to repress a shiver as I felt her fingertips brush fleetingly through my remaining curls. She went no lower but instead made to check the rest of me, slipping her other hand down my back and over my bottom, rubbing first one cheek and then the other, and finishing with a pleasurable squeeze.
Again I was certain it was unnecessary but I didn’t see any reason to protest. By now I had just come to accept that this was the way Lucy was: unperturbed by nudity, quick to touch, gracious and generous. By contrast caddebostan escort her nakedness and intimacy made me quite nervous, but I realised that this was simply my response to her and I should not blame her for my reactions nor judge her through my eyes. Meanwhile, I resolved to simply enjoy it – and what was wrong with being bathed by another, a task that many have enjoyed since the dawn of time?
In any event she was soon finished. We stepped from the shower, minding our way across the wet floor, and soon found dry towels that had – another Laxton innovation – been placed on warm metal pipes. They were gloriously heated and wonderful to wrap around us; I marvelled at such a simple a luxury as a warm towel, which I had never experienced before coming to this remarkable place. I wrapped it around me slowly as I enjoyed its warmth, reflecting on the life I now led and the whirlwind of experiences the new day had already brought.
My reverie was interrupted as I became aware that Lucy was smiling at me again. “Did I do something wrong?” I asked her, nervously.
“No, not at all,” she said, smiling wider, “but sometimes you seem to lose yourself in a fleeting moment. I find it endearing.”
What she said about losing myself in a moment I knew to be all too true, but her use of the word ‘endearing’ made me blush again.
Lucy laughed. “Come, let us go back to our room. The day will start very soon, and we must get ready.”
I followed her from the washroom, though this time I ensured my towel was wrapped well around me before stepping out into the corridor.
***
In our rooms we quickly dried off and towelled and brushed our hair, and to my surprise I was becoming more accustomed to being naked before Lucy. She, of course, had never shown any reservations about being nude before me.
“Mrs. Dempster asked me to send you down to the doctor first thing,” she told me as we dressed in our uniforms, and seeing my anxious look added, “this is perfectly normal for new girls. They simply perform a routine check-up.” This settled my nerves a little. “After that,” she continued, “I will show you the rota and explain the assignment of duties.”
“Thank you,” I said.
She smiled at me, then stepping very close to me she took my face gently in my hands and, before I could think to react, she kissed my lips. “You’re very welcome,” she said, smiling, stepping back. My hand reached up to where her lips had brushed mine, and I looked at her with wide eyes.
“I couldn’t resist,” she said impishly, “you’re just so cute!”
I smiled back at her. Her charm was irresistible. She gave me directions to the doctor’s rooms and said I should attend for eight o’clock and that she would see me afterwards, then left with her usual energy and enthusiasm.
I made my way from our room, seeking out first a water-closet that was not as open as the ones in the washroom – my courage was not yet up to such levels. I had observed some in proximity to the servant’s hall, which (according to Lucy’s directions) was anyway close to the doctor’s rooms. It was only just gone seven o’clock so I spent some time wandering around, exploring, and trying not to get in people’s way.
There was a maze of stone corridors and stairways connecting the rooms of the servant’s quarters: washroom, hall, kitchen, sleeping areas and even what seemed to be our own drawing room. The latter was expansive and featured a very large fireplace with several comfy chairs. I was surprised to find it occupied by several girls who greeted me warmly as I entered. I made excuses to not join them, saying I was just exploring, and they carried on their conversations. Clearly there were more girls than work to do in Laxton, and I reflected again on the comparison to my cousin Linda’s employment.
Shortly before eight o’clock I found my way to the doctor’s room. The door was closed. Hoping I was expected and that it wasn’t too early, I knocked tentatively. The door opened almost immediately and another girl left; she was holding her hand over her mouth and she looked like she was about to be sick. She ignored me as she went past. I was not encouraged. A male voice said, “Come!” and, steeling myself, I entered.
The room was lushly decorated with thick carpet and dark wood. To one side stood a chaise lounge of a plushness that I had never seen before, and to the other stood a sturdy-looking table at about waist high. Several large book cases filled with books covered the walls. Though various other items of furniture sat within the room it was so large it seemed far from cluttered. The doctor sat at a imposing desk set under the window, but stood as I came into the room. He wore a dark suit. I almost missed a step as I realised I had seen him previously: he was the man who had attended for Sally’s punishment the day before.
“You must be Emily,” he said, regarding me. His manner seemed quite stern.
“Yes, Sir,” I replied, and bobbed him a curtsy. I wondered why he had chosen to attend Sally’s punishment. At first I thought he might be there to assure her well-being due to the nature of it, but then I recalled that afterwards Mrs. Dempster had asked him if he were satisfied. This suggested he was the instigator. I swallowed nervously.
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32