High School Humiliation (archives)

High School Humiliation

It was late Friday afternoon, and a bunch of students had gathered in the hallway outside their rooms.  There was a flurry of activity as some girls returned naked from their last class, having been inspected or perhaps punished by one of their professors, and so they took the opportunity to put on either a top or a skirt — just something so they wouldn’t be naked.  Other girls were so relieved to be finished with the pressure-cooker of inspections that it was a relief to change into something more comfortable, like a loose-fitting pair of pajamas, and just sit with their friends in the hallway.  Donna and Crysta liked to share a pair of pajamas — Crysta wore the top, and Donna wore the bottom, holding it up when she got up, since it was several sizes too big for her.  The environment was so friendly and easy-going that the girls felt comfortable wearing a wide variety of styles.

It was in this relaxed milieu that one of the girls suggested going into town for dinner.  They were all primed for just such a suggestion, and agreed instantly.  “Wait for me!” I said as the gaggle of girls made their way to the stairway.  I’m Carol, one of the shyer girls in the group, so I need to cover myself up, especially if I’m going off-campus.  I jumped into a pair of painters pants, with straps and a bib to at least partly cover my admittedly big tits.  I ran after the other girls and soon caught up to them.

They were talking about the humiliations they had suffered in high school from the teachers, the dress codes, and the other students.  I chimed in, “the stocks were awful”.

The chatter stopped.  I could feel my face redden.  “Didn’t you have stocks in your school?”  I felt like I had stepped into a big pile of dogshit.  “You know, wooden stocks?”

“Like in olden times?  Puritans?”

I let out my breath.  “Yeah, that’s it.  When we did something wrong, like forgetting our homework, or whatever, the teachers would make us get in the stocks.”

“What was that like?” one girl asked.

“Well, it was low to the ground, but high enough that you couldn’t really kneel.  The teacher would unlock it, and lift the top piece off, and then you put your head and both hands on the bottom piece.  Then the teacher would lock the top piece down, so you can’t take your hands or your head out.”

“And you’re standing there, all bent over?”

“Yeah.  And you can’t look anywhere but down.  You can hear people around you, but you can’t see anyone.  But they can all see you.”

“That must have been awful.”

“I haven’t even told you the worst part.  It was the spankings.  You see, the boys spank the girls while they were in the stocks.  The teachers always told them to stop spanking the girls.  Don’t you think they feel humiliated enough without being spanked?  But somehow they never seemed serious enough for the boys to stop.  I can’t tell you how helpless I would feel, all bent over like that, when I would hear some boys behind me talking about how they would spank one of us.”

“The boys spanked you through your clothes?”

“Sometimes.  But sometimes they lifted up my skirt, and spanked my bare bottom.  I hated that the most.”

“You mean they spanked you through your panties?”

“Yes, if I wore panties that day.  I felt so vulnerable with my hands immobilized, and my butt sticking out into the hallway with so many students going back and forth behind me.  If I was wearing a dress, it seemed the boys would always lift it higher than necessary for just a spanking.  Did they need to bare my breasts, too?  Some of the boys would make me spread my legs, which also seemed unnecessary, but what could I do?  I really had to obey them, so they would stop spanking me.”

“I guess an experience like that would teach you to wear panties!”

“It’s not that simple.  You see, our Dress Code wasn’t like the one here at the College.  For us, the rule was you had to wear a dress long enough to cover your panties, so the test was always whether a teacher could see your panties.  Like all the girls, I wanted to wear the shortest dress possible, but I didn’t like to get caught by the Dress Code.  So I was in history class one day, and the teacher was going through the class in order, asking each student to point out some random country or city on the world map.  Nichole was right in front of me, and she had to point out Norway.  She was short, like me, and she goes up to the map, looks around, and picks up the teacher’s pointer stick.   ‘No,’ says the teacher, ‘point to it with your finger.’  Making it harder for her was the fact there was a big box of computer paper on the floor directly in front of the map.  So the poor girl straddles the box of paper, hunches her shoulders, and as gingerly as possible begins reaching up to Norway.  Well, by the time she got to London and France, we all saw her underpants!  The teacher said her dress was too short, and so she had to take it off.  She begged him for leniency, but he was firm.”

Get it?  He was firm!

I was thinking this would be no big deal.  Nichole would strip down to her bra and panties, and then we would get on with the class.  But Nichole was really shy, so it affected her quite a bit.  The poor thing, she threw her dress on the teacher’s desk, and went back to her seat, sobbing.  Meanwhile, I was thinking: my dress was an inch or two shorter than Nichole’s, and I wasn’t wearing a bra.  And I was next to come up to the front of the room.  This would not be good.  So while everyone was watching Nichole cry and carry on, I slipped off my panties.  You see, the rule is, if the teacher can’t see your panties, then your dress is long enough.  A technicality, perhaps, but I was prepared to take it to the highest court!  Once Nichole’s sobbing died down to a reasonable level, the teacher called me to the front of the room, and asked me to point out the city of Reykjavik.  I straddled the big box, and raised my arm up to point out the city, knowing my asshole was in full view.

“You’re not wearing panties!” the teacher said.  My classmates stifled their laughter.

“That’s true,” I said, sheepishly.

“That’s a violation of…”

“Of the Dress Code?” I asked, my hands on my hips.  “No, it’s not.  I checked.”

“Well, your dress has to be long enough to cover your panties,” said the teacher.

“Yes,” I said, defiantly.  “And what is the test, specified in the Dress Code, to verify this?”

“The teacher stuttered and stammered, and I knew I had won my case.  So from that day forward, I made sure not to wear panties under my shortest dresses and skirts.  The only downside was the occasional bare-ass spanking I would receive while in the stocks.”

By this time, we had arrived at the restaurants, and we faced a choice.  The two best restaurants, right next to each other, each had specials that all the girls really liked.  One had the “bottomless salad bar”, which was only a dollar for bottomless girls.  The other served “breasts” of chicken, which were offered at a discount to topless girls.  The catch at both restaurants was that every girl in the party had to agree to the terms, or else none of them would get the special.

As it happened, the girls split down the middle, mostly based on what they were wearing.  For example, Donna and Crysta were wearing the bottom and top of a pair of pajamas, so Donna was already topless, and Crysta was already bottomless.  Carol’s painter’s pants covered her bottom quite a bit more completely than her top.  Some of the girls were wearing dresses that might have been short enough for the bottomless salad bar — this turned into a topic of discussion: how much bottom has to be showing to qualify for the discount salad bar?  There was some discussion of splitting up, but Donna and Crysta were emphatic about the whole group staying together, and the girls agreed.  In the end, it turned out there were more bottomless girls than topless ones, so everyone wearing a bottom had to take it off, and then they would all go to the bottomless salad bar.

I’m very shy, but I didn’t want to be a party pooper, so I took off my painter’s pants.  Donna saw me strip naked, and joined me, taking off her pajama bottoms.  We checked them at the coat check window, and I felt myself trembling, I was so shy.  I mean, it’s one thing to be naked on campus, with so many other naked girls, but here we were out in the big city.  Donna was so sweet, she saw me trembling, and held my hand as we walked back to the table to join our friends.  When we got to the table, I kissed her, and she responded warmly.  She could see I still needed comfort, so she let me sit on her lap.

It was fun to go to a restaurant with a special theme.  Even the hostesses were bottomless, wearing a cute little “belly shirt” that accentuated their feminine form.  Their naked butts and high-heel shoes gave their legs a long sleek look.  Many of them were college girls, and so they were completely shaved.

The waitress came to the table, and asked us what we would like.  She was very pretty, but not bottomless.  Her apron covered her front almost completely, with cute little breasts peaking out of each side.  When she turned to leave, however, I could see she wasn’t wearing anything besides the apron.  She had beautiful hips, and a nice, round ass.  Her ass was nice and firm, and she held it in a relaxed way that made me think she was used to showing it off in public.  I enjoyed the way she wasn’t the least self-conscious, never squeezing her butt cheeks together to try to hide her asshole or her pussy.  When she needed to bend over, she wasn’t shy about it; she just did it.  Very pretty.

Donna was so sweet, stroking my belly from time to time, to make me feel at ease.  I shifted to the side so I could rest my head against her soft, sweet neck.  I love the way Donna smells.  I stroked her perfect breasts, letting my fingers touch her hard nipples, and then gently down her flat belly to her pretty legs.  Donna relaxed her legs, letting them fall gently apart.  I took the hint, and stroked her soft inner thigh.  She closed her eyes, and leaned her head back, as I traced little circles on her beautiful tan legs, getting ever closer to her sexy pussy.  When I finally reached it, I found it to be quite wet, and so relaxed.  I felt under her soft, sweet lips, and let her juices flow down between her legs.  I slowly slid off her, and knelt on the floor in front of her.  She lifted her legs, and shifted her butt forward in the chair, with my face just inches from the source of her sweet nectar.  With childlike delight, I nuzzled her, breathing in her fragrance.  As she dripped, I tried to lick up every drop, she was so delicious!  I spread her legs apart, and she didn’t resist.  She opened like a beautiful flower.  I continued licking her juices, from her asshole to her pussy, sometimes plunging my tongue into one hole or the other, she was so relaxed!

Then, unexpectedly, she clenched my head between her legs, and held her breath.  I grabbed her and held her tight, my face still pressed against her pussy.  I looked up and saw her eyes were closed, and then I noticed her nipples were very hard, so I kissed them tenderly.  She held me tight, barely sitting on the chair, her warm, moist pussy now pressed against my belly.  I slowly got up from my kneeling position, and kissed her pretty face.  She grabbed me even harder, and kissed me back, like I’ve never been kissed before!  Then, when we had kissed for a long time, she opened her eyes, and gestured to the chair.  I sat down, and she sat on my lap.  She melted in my arms like a cuddly kitten.  I have never been happier in my life!

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