Date: Fri, 12 Jul 2013 15:31:22 +0100 (BST) From: Pippa Tate Subject: I'm So Cute Part 3 - 'K' Again Hereunder another instalment for the Lesbian Authoritarian section if acceptable: - The following day K tried to avoid us at break time. We tracked her down though to one of the rooms we were allowed to use between lessons if it was too cold outside or raining – like today. The room had quite a few other girls in it, chattering and playing around, but K was sitting alone in a corner trying to look small. Not small enough. We sidled over to where she was sitting and took our places at the table - effectively enclosing her in a small, tight circle. I sat myself right next her; close enough to touch her. She didn't look up. We just sat and grinned at her for a while; none of us speaking. Eventually I said "well"? "Well what?" she replied quietly; sullenly. "Well do you want your knickers back"? The girls giggled. One of them said "she's probably only got one pair; she's probably not wearing any today". We all (except K) laughed long and loud at that and I said "I bet she's not. Let's have a look" and grabbed at her skirt. She flapped her hands feebly in a gesture of defiance but the others quickly grabbed her and pinned her back in her seat; I quickly scanned the room. None of the other girls seemed to notice anything – I guess they just though we were having a bit of a private huddle as girls sometimes do. There was no way that they could know that within a few feet of them a young girl was being held captive and tormented by a group of merciless little lolitas. I pulled her skirt up her legs revealing her white pants: "no, she's definitely got two pairs" I said "she probably doesn't need these back (they were in my blazer pocket). I'll just keep them". "Give them back" she pleaded in a small voice "my Mum will kill me if she finds out". We mocked her about that too. Again tears started in her eyes. "She's going to start crying again" I said "I think we'd better take her somewhere private: - we don't want everyone to see you crying do we?" Without too much fuss we pulled her to her feet and hustled her out of the room – still nobody seemed to notice anything unusual. We were in an old part of the school – a three storey Victorian block with a number of store rooms on the upper floor. They were supposed to be out of bounds but I knew if no-one was around we could find one and spend the rest of the break uninterrupted. Free to do what we wanted with our unfortunate prisoner. Happily no-one saw us hurry up the wide stairs and out of site. K didn't struggle – she just passively complied with the little pushes we gave her – all of us had a grip somewhere on her. I held her tightly just above the elbow. I could feel the heat of her through the thin fabric of her blouse. I sensed her nervousness. The awareness of my obvious power over her filled me with excitement. I hurried us along. The room I wanted was unlocked and empty – a small box room really with a few bits of old furniture. We shuffled in and shut the door behind us. I pulled the pants out of my pocket and waved them tantalisingly in K's face. "So what did you tell your Mum"? "I haven't told her yet". I found that interesting... but carried on "so what are you going to do for us, to get them back"? Standing in the middle of us she looked nervously from one to the other. We were all grinning – meaningfully. "What" she went on; "what do you want"? I didn't speak but reached out and started to unfasten the top button of her blouse. She backed off saying "what are you doing"? I ignored her and said to the others "hold her then". She made a rush for the door but we were too many for her. My girls held her tight then. One with an arm around her neck; another clamping her arms; the third crouching, embracing her legs in a tight hug. They were all leering and mocking her. The arm around her neck was choking her. She was making a strangling noise in her throat. "Not so hard" I said, and the grip slackened. I spoke gently to K then "we're not going to hurt you. It's alright. Come on, it'll be good fun". I smiled; my sweetest, friendliest, warmest smile. As if it was a perfectly acceptable game. I started to undo her clothes again. She didn't struggle anymore. Delighted by her submission (her whole attitude instantly changed after I was `nice' to her) I unfastened her blouse and she actually helped us take it off. She wasn't wearing anything underneath. I noted her flat chest and small pink nipples. Hard. I took her skirt off next, undoing the waistband and letting it fall to the floor. "Don't let it get dirty" K pleaded "I'll have to wear it again tomorrow". She stepped out of it and I folded it neatly and, smiling at her, placed it carefully over the back of a chair. Then I pulled her pants down. Again she stepped out of them and I held them bunched in my hands as I lingered for a few seconds in front of her; enjoying the unrestricted sight of her nakedness. I looked at her neat little vulva. The plump little mound; the tight slit. I stood up and as I did I placed my hand gently on her. Between her legs. "That feels alright doesn't it"? I said. She nodded; a little flushed. The others smiled and giggled. She flushed a little deeper. I rubbed her gently for a short while; stroking the line of her slit rhythmically. She parted her legs for me little by little. "Mmmm" I murmured "that feels nice. Does anybody else want a go"? The others confirmed their interest with an assortment of nods and broad grins so I suggested we lie her down on a table at the back of the room. We actually picked her up between us and carried her the short distance to the table and laid her down on it. She was completely passive and compliant. I liked that a lot. We lifted her legs high and wide and held them there as she lay still for us to indulge. The others took turns feeling and probing between her outstretched thighs while I held one of her legs with one hand and instinctively played with her nipples with the other. I watched with glee as the other girls had their fun. Fingers stroked and explored all around K's vulva. They tickled between her labia, occasionally flicking her clitoris which made her twitch and make small (appreciative) noises. One of the girls knelt down and spread her buttocks to inspect her anus saying "look at her little poo-hole; you can see everything". The others took turns to crouch and avidly inspect it - grinning all the while. After a short time it was my `turn' again and I decided to provide the pleasure I had referred to before. I immediately put my fingers between her lips, feeling for her clitoris. I noted with pleasure that she was quite wet (I knew already to associate that slick wetness with a state of arousal) and soon found her hot little bud – it was small but quite distinct. I gave it my concentrated attention. One hand held her lips apart while the other rubbed her little clit; fast but gently. When K closed her eyes and started to utter soft moans, a couple of the others wanted to take over but I told them they couldn't. I was doing it. It didn't really take long before her hips rose to meet my insistent fingers and then to lurch and heave. She screwed her eyes up tight and I asked her how it felt. "f...f... fantastic!" was all she could manage as she exulted in her first orgasm. I continued to stroke her as the spasms continued and then while they subsided. When she was quiet I removed my hand and the other girls, with staring eyes and open mouths, variously said "did you see that? God!" and "Phew! I thought she was going to die" and "Pippa! What did you do? Is that what you were talking about?" Smiling, I didn't reply but nodded sagely. I helped a very wobbly K stand and then get dressed. As I fastened the buttons on her blouse I said "we'll do it again tomorrow K" then "here, take these home, don't let your Mum find out" and I handed her the panties from yesterday. She smiled, said "thanks" and off we went. From that moment K was effectively "back in the gang" but her demeanour had changed. She became the equivalent of a `court jester'. Always willing, always subservient; speaking only when spoken to. It was almost as though the events had opened (or closed?) something inside her. She became the (willing) recipient of our little girl humour – spiteful and venomous as it often is. We stripped her naked most days. Fingered her; made her cum; brought her up to orgasm then stopped short so she would mewl like a cat in frustration; pushed things into her holes: - fingers; pencils; anything we fancied really. She took it all. We humiliated her – often in front of other pupils who, being as cruel as kids can, laughed and mocked with us. We made her crawl on all fours; drink sour milk; show off her knickers; even kneel and kiss our feet publicly. She was like a pet. A willing, subservient, do-anything pet. Each member of the group felt free to molest her - even if we weren't all together. I or one of the others might be sitting next to her in a class, in which case we would spend the whole of the lesson playing with her; feeling her under the edge of her panties - or, whenever we could - with her panties off. We would report back to each other about these 'interim' games and debate her 'performance' - all this while she would be lying naked between us: - our wicked little hands roaming all over her body. It was a special achievement if we could make her have an orgasm in class. We would discuss in detail how she squirmed and had to bend her head to hide her contorted expression and how she had to stifle her cries - sometimes emitting a squeak or spluttering then having to pretend she had coughed or some such. Sometimes the girls at nearby desks would notice and - already in on the secret - would try to attract her attention so they could pull faces and generally make fun of her. We had a lot of laughs at her expense during these debates - often causing us to make her cum again while we humiliated her. It was as sexy as hell and I loved every second. This carried on for the year or so left at that school. Eventually the gang split up and we all went our separate ways. I never saw Katie again. Pity.