Harriet's Awakening

by Lorinda Jade

Part 1 - THE RETURN

In the searing heat of a hot summer’s afternoon 13-year old Harriet Shetland wearily made her way back to school. She was accompanied by three younger girls who were chewing gum and chattering merrily about their adventures, but Harriet, walking just ahead of them, remained characteristically silent. Harriet was a gifted child, born to rock star parents who had packed her off to boarding school at the age of five. She was withdrawn and not a natural communicator, but as her artistic talents developed she preferred to let her creations talk for her. This afternoon Harriet had coerced the younger pupils to come along with her on a typical expedition to forage for anything that could be of use in her art projects. Clad only in denim dungaree shorts with white trainers and carrying backpacks, the posse of girls tramped on the gravel of the front drive. They passed the familiar wooden sign, ‘Stanbrook Hall Boarding School For Girls, Headmistress: Miss E M Pemberton MA (Oxon)’, and then on up the front steps of the main building, and made their way to the room which Harriet used as her studio. They dumped down their finds of bits of wood and mangled metal with the rest of the junk, no doubt all of which would soon get turned into sculptures. After receiving a curt “Thank you” from Harriet, the younger girls scampered off to shower and get changed in time for dinner. Harriet carefully locked the door of the room and dragged her feet up the curved staircase and along the hallway until she passed a door with a brass plate saying ‘Estelle Pemberton, Headmistress’. The legend on the next door read ‘Harriet Shetland’.

Once inside Harriet flung her backpack onto the floor and opened the door of the connecting room to run a bath, throwing in a couple of handfuls of scented crystals. She sauntered back, kicked off her trainers, and unbuttoned the straps of her dungarees, allowing them to fall to the floor. Now naked, she lit up a More cigarette and smoked thoughtfully, studying her well-toned body in the full-length mirror. Harriet then perched her naked bottom on a stool and removed her pale make-up, leaving the chunky silver hoops in the tops of her ears (emphasized by her short cropped natural blond hair), and a huge silver cluster ring on her left index finger, as her only bodily adornments. She took the final drags on her cigarette, stubbed it out, and slipped into the warm bath, exhaling smoke through her nose. Despite, or maybe because of, her constant working with wood and metal, Harriet was always meticulous about her appearance, even managing to keep her finger nails perfectly manicured. Her ablutions followed a strict regime. She immersed herself totally under the water for a few moments and then emerged to methodically soap up every inch of her body, leaving her budding breasts and hairless vagina till last. Once satisfied that everything was squeaky clean, she rinsed herself and lay back into the aromatic water to relax. Her eyes were half closed when the door on the other side of the bathroom creaked open to reveal the figure of the headmistress, Miss Pemberton.

Estelle Pemberton was 45 and very well preserved for her age. When she had graduated from Oxford University with a degree in English and History, she took a couple of humdrum jobs, first working for a small publishing company that specialised in ‘feminist’ literature, and then as a researcher for a television documentary channel. But she knew that this wasn’t what she really wanted to do with her life. Everything changed when at the age of 28, a wealthy aunt died and left her entire estate, which comprised of Stanbrook Hall, a not immodest country house set in several acres of land (with stables and other smaller buildings), and a very handsome sum of money to Estelle. Fondly remembering her own days at boarding school Estelle got the crazy idea of starting her own small, but exclusive, school for girls. In the early stages she was helped out by one of her own former teachers whom she had bumped into quite by chance at a book store in central London. ‘Miss Brampton’ (as Estelle insisted that a former teacher should be addressed) took on the role of headmistress and allowed Estelle to concentrate on recruitment. Estelle called some of her former colleagues who put the word around their contacts, but things really took off when she placed a discrete advertisement in ‘The Lady’ magazine. At the end of the second academic year of Stanbrook Hall, with the school in good shape, Miss Brampton graciously resigned to take up a new post at a teaching college, leaving Estelle as the new (and rightful) headmistress.

Harriet’s eyes roused open and she was transfixed by the woman before her, looking as impeccable as ever in a grey silk blouse, long black skirt, black seamed stockings and red stilettos. Her long auburn hair was pinned up, her makeup perfect, and she wore a lady-like pearl necklace, and two pairs of matching pearl studs in her ears. Harriet’s nose buckled and twitched trying to catch the aromatic smoke emanating from the Black Russian cigarette in Miss Pemberton’s gold holder. Harriet did not see this as an intrusion, because when she arrived at the school, Estelle decided that this demure child should have the connecting room next to hers so she could try to be a surrogate mother to her. This room was where Harriet remained until the day she left the school for art college. Harriet remembered back to one of the many times she needed to be prompted by Miss Pemberton to use the toilet.

Part 2 – THE FLASHBACK (eight years earlier)

Miss Pemberton was wearing a flowery summer dress and standing with hands on hips, in the connecting bathroom. She called through the open door into Harriet’s room, “Come on Harriet! It’s high time you went to the toilet before you piss your knickers.”

Five-year old Harriet wandered through in a short pinafore dress with white ankle socks. Her fine blond hair had been cut into a collar length bob, with a long fringe held to the side by a single pink hairclip. Harriet stood next to the toilet and gazed at the bowl.

“Come on now Harriet, you know what to do!” egged Miss Pemberton, almost in exasperation.

Harriet pulled her white panties down to her ankles, hitched up the skirt of her dress, climbed up, and sat back on the toilet seat. She looked down thoughtfully, and after a few moments began to piss. Her golden torrent poured for what seemed well over a minute. Harriet studied every drop of the stream as it cascaded into the bowl. As she sat there, she wiggled her feet out of her panties and pulled off her dress and socks. When she decided she had quite finished, she slithered off the toilet and stood there staring into space. Estelle gesticulated at the toilet tissue which hung from a brass holder. Harriet tore a short length off the roll, carefully wiped herself, and deposited the damp tissue into the toilet bowl, picked up her discarded clothes, and sauntered back into her room. “So typical, so fucking typical” sighed Miss Pemberton. She pressed the toilet flush and wondered if Harriet would ever get the hang of life’s most basic tasks.

Part 3 - THE AWAKENING

Estelle perched herself on the side of the bath, gracefully crossed her legs at the ankles, and continued smoking looking just like a glamorous 1940’s movie star.

“Harriet, I am going to teach you something enjoyable. I did hope you would learn this from one of the other girls because it is most fun if learned from a girl of your own age or slightly older. Still a stale old crust is better than no bread at all.”

Estelle finished her cigarette, and put the holder to one side. Harriet looked passively as the headmistress unpinned her hair and shook her head allowing her tresses to fall half way down her back. “Half the mental institutions in England are full of people who never learned to do this properly. Lie back comfortably while I pop this under this bit of you.”

Estelle stood up and pointed at Harriet’s bottom. Harriet arched her back slightly, gently lifting her ass out of the water. The headmistress slid a rubber cushion underneath Harriet, and sat back onto the side of the bath. “Part your legs a little.” Harriet frowned and hesitantly spread her legs, allowing Miss Pemberton to start feeling around her vagina. “I am now very gently poking about for a little spot which feels enjoyably tingly when gently stroked... have I found it?”. Estelle continued to probe around Harriet’s clearly visible labia, eventually finding her tiny clitoris.

Harriet responded, “Mm.”

“Have I found it yet?”

“Mmm.”

“Does ‘Mmm’ mean yes?”

“Mmmm!”

Harriet smiled slightly, almost dreamily, as Estelle continued to pleasure the now swollen clitoris, whilst tentatively sliding a finger between the labia.

“In a while I will stop doing this and you can continue doing it for yourself. You have a very nice body Harriet; it is beginning to bloom. Your body will not only look nice; it will feel nice if you stroke it in other places... Here...” She began to play with Harriet’s nipples. Harriet smiled more.

“Here...” Estelle gently parted Harriet’s labia and ran a finger round before carefully inserting the tip into Harriet’s vagina. Harriet giggled.

“And here...” The tickling of Harriet’s anus triggered a spasm which shot through her body.

“Do you ever think of things which make you tingle?”

Harriet frowned again and recalled a recent occasion when she had begged the school’s ‘Queen Bitch’, 15-year old Tara-Jo and her cohorts, the 12-year old twins Emma and Gemma, to inflict her with one of their notorious beatings. Tara-Jo liked to exert her authority over anyone she pleased, most of the times sending her acolytes to run her errands. The most fearful words to any girl’s ears were. “Queen Tara-Jo commands...”. There were only two options, either comply 100%... or suffer the consequences. Tara-Jo’s mind knew no limits when she meted out her punishments. Harriet secretly worshipped and revered the ‘Queen Bitch’.

Part 4 – THE BEATING

There was a small courtyard tucked away at the back of the main school building which had been commandeered by Tara-Jo as her own ‘private playground’. In the middle was a high backed wooden chair which had been ‘rescued’ from a nearby disused church and served as Tara-Jo’s ‘throne’. Harriet was lead into the arena by the twins. She was naked, save for her normal jewellery, unusually heavy make-up, and a black studded collar was round her neck with a leash attached. The twins wore identical outfits of latex catsuits and stiletto shoes with 2” heels, but in different colours, Emma in red and Gemma in blue. Their hairs were woven into single high braids tied with ribbons, and both wore garish make-up. They each had a hand on the other end of the leash and forced Harriet to crawl on all-fours towards their mistress, occasionally tugging on the leash forcing Harriet to choke. Tara-Jo was sitting on her throne, regally but with a menacing look on her face. She wore an off-the-shoulder purple gown made from crushed velvet, with black fishnet gloves and stockings, and black ankle boots with 4” spiked heels. Her heavy make-up was a combination of black and purples (including black arches in place of her eyebrows), and she had a hotchpotch of mismatched silver earrings in her multi-pierced ears, silver rings on all ten digits, and a large crucifix on a silver chain dangled round her neck. Tara-Jo’s long black hair was tied into two high braids with purple ribbons and a black lace shawl was draped round her shoulders. Harriet, still on all fours, stopped directly in front of her queen and bowed her head, not wanting to look into Tara-Jo’s stern face.

And she waited.

Tara-Jo put a gold-tipped cigarette into a long black holder, lit it, and took a few deep drags before she began. She leant over until her face was just inches away from Harriet’s and blew out a stream of dark smoke. Harriet didn’t flinch. Tara-Jo arose from her throne and threw off her shawl, “Slaves, you are commanded to punish this worthless piece of shit. Beat her senseless.” She sat down to intently watch the spectacle.

Emma and Gemma were well trained. They began gently by alternately delivering hand slaps to Harriet’s ass, and then increased the severity of the punishment by using riding crops, leather whips, wooden paddles, and canes to all parts of Harriet’s naked body, but concentrating mostly on whipping her bottom, back, and shoulders until she was sore and bruised. The more blows the twins delivered, the more contented Harriet looked. When Harriet was almost a quivering wreck, squirming around on the stone courtyard, Tara-Jo suddenly stood up to deliver her next order, this time to Harriet, “Get the fuck up off the floor bitch and slap their stupid faces!”. Harriet struggled up to her feet and mustered up what strength she could and hit each twin hard on both cheeks. Tara-Jo’s stern face started to break into a smile. And she cackled. Again she rose from her throne, this time to knock Harriet back to the floor and brutally kick her, and to dig her spiky heels into the flesh of Harriet’s buttocks. By now Harriet was battered and bruised and in obvious pain, but Tara-Jo wasn’t finished. She addressed the twins once more, “La pièce de résistance!”. The twins slipped off their shoes, unzipped their cat suits and sexily slid them off like a pair of strippers, much to Tara-Jo’s amusement. They both straddled Harriet’s body, pulled their labia apart and let forth with two torrents of piss, drenching the poor girl. Then it was Tara-Jo’s turn. Right on cue, Emma unzipped her mistress’s gown and helped her out of it. Tara-Jo now naked, save for her stockings, suspenders, and boots, glided over and squatted down with her bottom inches from Harriet’s mouth. Harriet watched in fear as Tara-Jo’s asshole twitched once, then twice, ‘Fuck no!’ she thought, ‘Surely not that as well?’. But all Tara-Jo wanted to do was to urinate directly into Harriet’s mouth. Her golden nectar was gratefully received, most of it disappearing down Harriet’s throat. Tara-Jo sat back on her throne, lit another cigarette, and turned to Harriet, “Now what do you say bitch?”. Harriet was helped to her feet by the twins, “Thank you my Queen”. She smiled and gratefully kissed her three tormentors on the lips.

Part 5 - THE FULFILMENT

Miss Pemberton continued, “Everybody, Harriet, has ideas which make them tingle, ideas which make stroking themselves, and even stroking other people more fun. These ideas are to be found in literature, art, films, magazines, on the internet, and in the games we play. Some of these ideas would be harmful if taken seriously, but only stupid people take ideas seriously. But we are all liberals at heart, as wise as serpents and harmless as doves. We know that the wildest ideas are just ways adding funny tingly feelings to a world managed by dreary business methods, methods no serious person questions. Is this talk boring you Harriet?”.

“A bit, Miss.”

“Then concentrate on your own tingly little dream world and let this talkative old lady stroke you a bit longer, for I too am lonely sometimes.”

Estelle removed all her clothes, to reveal a trim figure which a woman half her age would have been proud of. Her pubic area had evidently been recently shaved. She sat herself back on the side of the bath and continued to probe Harriet’s most intimate areas. “Sex is the root of my loneliness. Miss Harper has told you in P.S.E. how babies are made, but babies are expensive! Unless you want one the wisest sort of sex is little tingly stroking games with yourself or another woman. Do you ever think about boys - about men, Harriet?”.

“No.”

Miss Pemberton leaned over to give Harriet a kiss on the lips, first gently and then passionately, pushing her tongue deep into Harriet’s hesitant mouth. “I neither, but we should not despise men, we should pity them. Nature created them to help women have babies, but they can do that in less than a minute. By their late teens they have passed their sexual peak and then it is downhill all the way. They cannot enjoy sex as much as women either. They stay fertile longer, but it does not console them. They turn jealous and destructive, hence domestic violence, warfare and most of what is taught as history. Some truly great men try to reform themselves but usually make a hash of it.”

Miss Pemberton slipped gracefully into the bath with Harriet, and the two women made love for a long time, passionately, gently probing each other’s private parts. When they were done, Estelle stretched over to her clothes and retrieved her Black Russian cigarettes, gold lighter, and holder. She offered the holder to Harriet, and they both relaxed in the water, smoking, and reflecting on the day’s events.