We met up again the following day. It was between lessons again in the library.We had our usual `private' corner.
She looked even more downcast and dejected than normal.
I rested my hand on her bare thigh and gently stroked the soft skin. Automatically she parted her legs. As I gently slid my hand towards her sex I asked her what was the matter.
"My mum" she sullenly replied.
My heart gave a little flutter.
"What about her?" I asked, hoping I would get the reply I wanted.
"She got really mad when I went home because my clothes were so dirty".
She looked into my eyes with such a tragic expression I almost felt sorry for her.But my heart was beating fast in excited anticipation.I slid my hand up to her groin - she had, even though she was distressed, remembered to remove her panties.I slid a finger between her labia and gently tickled her clitoris.
"What did she do?" I was desperate to know.
Her eyes started to fill up and her voice became shaky yet she kept her legs apart for me.I increased the speed of my furtive tickling as I saw a tear trickle down her flushed cheek.I felt myself becoming moist.
"She...she..." I squeezed her clitoris diverting her attention "...ooh that's nice..." She bit her bottom lip as the pleasure ran through her.
"What did she do?" I continued.
"It ...was... horrible..." she sobbed.I loved seeing her in such distress. I was becoming more aroused as she was getting more upset "...she really hurt me".
God, I needed to know the details now.Whatever her mother had done was because I had thrown her clothes on the dirty floor.Whatever she had endured had, ultimately, been my doing.I was responsible for her pain and suffering.I loved it.It excited me.
I gave her my most sympathetic look. I slid my finger gently along her slit.I dipped it lightly into her hole then moved it back to her clitoris.
"Tell me what she did Bee" I murmured conspiratorially "tell me everything.You'll feel better if you let it all out".
She gave me one of those nervous little tight-lipped smiles again, and then she began.
"As soon as I walked in and she saw me covered in dirt, she grabbed hold of my hair and yanked it; hard.It hurt. She screamed and shouted at me, right in my face.I could feel her spit on my face."
"What did she shout?"
"She called me useless and fat.Cow. Ugly dirty bitch.Other things. That wasn't the worst bit though".
"What did she do then?"
I was so eager to know.
"She dragged me through into the other room where my sisters were. They were watching TV. They'd heard her screaming at me and were looking up when she pulled me in front of them". She paused a moment, then, bitterly, she almost spat the words out "they were laughing; at me".
I could feel my heart beating with excitement."Then what?"
She lifted her eyes to mine again - she had recounted this part with her head bowed as if in shame - with such an expression of profound sorrow I nearly laughed.
"She told me to take my skirt off.She said - to my sisters - `we'll teach this lazy, dirty cow to look after her things properly' and she slapped my face - really hard".
Tears welled in her eyes again as other, more fundamental moisture, seeped between my legs.
"I did what she said - I didn't want her to hit me in the face again". She paused once more "but it gets worse".
Restraining a grin I pushed her for more "Why? What happened next?"
"I dropped my skirt down and suddenly they all went quiet.They were staring at me with their mouths open.I didn't know what it was.Then I realised.I hadn't put my knickers back on. I hadn't put them back on.I've been so used to taking them off for you, I just forgot to put them back on".
Tears flowed then.Her face contorted in grief as she sobbed out loud.
I was ecstatic but I didn't let it show.
"Oh my God" I whispered. "What did she do?"
"She screamed at me again. She called me all the filthy names in the book.She slapped me again - so hard. It really hurt. I had to tell her I had left them in the changing room.That I'd forgotten them.I couldn't tell her the truth. She went mad.She thinks I'm really, really stupid. She told my sisters to get her cane."
"Her cane?" I asked, almost breathless with malicious glee.
"She has a cane.Just a short piece of garden cane. But it's really thin and bendy.She's done it before.It hurts so much I can't stand it. I started to cry then and I was so embarrassed and scared.I looked at my sisters. I tried to let them know how bad it would be for me if they fetched it.Penny saw me looking at her. She saw how upset I was.But she jumped up.She smiled. She smiled right at me. Then she ran.She ran to get it. I hate her".
I could feel myself getting wetter and wetter - and what was almost as exciting was that even though Bee was relating her `horror' story to me, her vagina was getting wetter also under my deft manipulation.
"So what happened next?"
"She came back with the cane and gave it to my mum.Then she sat next to Trudi and waited for mum to hit me with it.They were both smiling.I hate them both".
I made a mental note to get to know these girls - I liked the sound of them.
"And did she?Hit you?"
She paused again. Composing herself.
"Yes.She didn't warn me.She just hit me really hard with it.She hit me so hard I screamed. I started crying. My sisters thought it was funny.They laughed and called me names.Cry baby'.They said things like you shouldn't forget your knickers should you?' Then she hit me again and it hurt more than the first time. The worst thing though was them laughing while I was crying.I could probably put up with her hitting me if I didn't cry like that for them to laugh at me."
I was loving this.
"Was that it?" I enquired. "Did she just do it twice?" I hoped she did more.
"No. She kept doing it. I screamed and screamed and cried. I begged her to stop. It was hurting so much. But she wouldn't stop.And all the time she was doing it my sisters were watching and laughing".
"How many times did she hit you?"
"I'm not sure - about ten I think."
I tried to picture the scene in my mind.I would have loved to have been there. I would have loved to have been doing the hitting.
"Where did she hit you?"
"On my bum mostly, but she hit my legs as well.She did the last one on the front. Look".
She pulled her skirt up to the top of her thighs.My hand was still fiddling with her clitoris but now I could see an angry-looking red stripe, tinged with blue, across the top of her thighs.It looked sore.
I took my hand away from her vagina and ran my sticky wet index finger along the line of the welt.First on one leg then the other. She flinched as I did it but didn't move.
"Does it still hurt?" I hoped.
"Yes - but not as bad as before."
She smiled that thin smile again as I continued to finger the mark.
"Are the others as bad as this one?"
"I don't know" she replied."I haven't seen. They hurt just as much though."
"Can I have a look?" I was desperate to see the results of this torture. I wanted to picture the full extent of her torment.
"Yes. Of course. Should we go somewhere?"
There was a small storage room nearby full of music stands and other random things.I knew we would be undisturbed in there.
As we were leaving the library my lovely little Alice was coming in.
"Come with us Alice" I said straightaway "Bee's been caned. She's going to show us".
Beatrice looked flustered at that but didn't argue. Alice happily tagged along grinning her naughty little grin. Her eyes as ever twinkling.
I shut the store-room door behind us and turned to Beatrice "let's have a look then Bee.Turn around and lift your skirt".
Ever compliant, the docile Beatrice turned away from us and raised her skirt high above her buttocks.Without turning round she asked "Can you see any marks? Is it bad?"
Alice and I exchanged malicious grins. The array of cruel marks was clear to see.Vivid red and blue stripes like the one across her thighs decorated the tops of her legs and her buttocks. The beating must have been agony. Both Alice and I spent a joyful few minutes stroking the lines - silently giggling at each other with every flinch we drew from Beatrice. We both asked "does it hurt?" as we did it - knowing the answer but enjoying the little torment nevertheless.
Alice took the opportunity to have an impudent feel along the crease of Beatrice's buttocks. She had developed a taste for a little anal play and I had let her finger my anus on a couple of occasions. I parted the older girl's buttocks for her to do the same to Bee.
"You don't mind do you Bee if Alice fingers your bum a bit?"
It was a rhetorical question and we all knew it.Alice and I again exchanged silent giggles as Bee murmured her compliance.
While Alice was having her little bit of dirty fun I came up with an idea which I immediately proposed to Bee. I hoped she was dull enough to go for it.
"There is a way you know so that your sisters won't laugh when you cry as your mum is caning you Bee".
"How?" she quickly replied – still without turning round "how can I do that?"
"You have to get used to it" I replied with authority."You have to get used to being caned so you can stand the pain and then you won't cry".I paused to let it sink in. "You have to practise". Alice was still fingering Bee's anus but was looking at me with something akin to wonder. We were both open mouthed waiting for Bee's response.
Then, in a tiny, timid voice, Bee said "will you help me?"