out in rigid excitement.
'Why, you're half-man, half-girl aren't you? How wonderful! You get the best of both!' she cried gaily, and without hesitation fell on her knees and kissed the tip of my throbbing sex.
She looked up at me, and asked me if I liked the way that felt. I could only nod vehemently. It felt absolutely divine. She put her full lips over the head of my penis and tickled the end of it with her tongue, and then after doing that for a few moments, she thrust her mouth over the entire shaft and took my prick all the way into her throat. As she did this, with one hand she caressed and teased my balls and with the other, she lightly touched her own nipple. I felt involuntary moans escape my lips, and I thought with horror that I was going to shoot my white seed into the lovely girl's mouth at any given moment.
'OH! Nellie, that feels so marvellous. Oh! Oh!' I cooed and groaned. But something kept me from letting go of my spunk. I wanted to see her experiencing pleasure as I was.
Gently, I pulled her up so that she was standing. We embraced, and I kissed her lips which were swollen and bruised from sucking my prick. I let my tongue play at the soft vulnerable flesh of her mouth and tongue, while she did the same to me. Our nipples grazed and touched one another as we held each other in a tight embrace. One of her delicate little hands was gently working the shaft of my penis, while her left hand seemed to have disappeared inside the folds of her own flesh. I groped between the soft flesh of her thighs, and found her hand there lightly stroking her own pussy.
'Let me,' I whispered. Though I had never touched a woman's pussy before, I knew instinctively what to do. Nellie guided my hand at first, leading my fingers deep into her warm, wet quim. I felt a thrill of the mysterious nature of women overwhelm my sensibilities, and for a moment I was slightly jealous of Nellie's pretty folds of pink wet flesh surrounded by the soft curls of her blond hair. Her hands guided my finger to a point inside her nether lips where it seemed to be harder, a little pearl of pulsing flesh. I was fascinated, and began to delicately massage her. As I did this, she moaned and thrust her hips against me and pressed her mouth against my own more forcefully.
Soon I felt that I could hold back no longer. Nellie had one hand on my nipple, which she pinched harder and harder, as her strokes on my cock became more fierce and rapid. My hips moved back and forward to meet the thrusts of her hips, as my fingers drew out a natural rhythm from her beautiful body. Suddenly, I thought I was going to swoon from lack of oxygen, and I gave myself over to the burning lava flow of my orgasm. As soon as I did this, I felt Nellie stifle a moan, putting her mouth to my neck and I felt her warm sex juice flow all over my fingers.
Afterward, we both began laughing rather sheepishly at our rather bad behaviour, Nellie dressed herself while I climbed into the bathtub. I told her my whole story. I told her everything about Miss. Priscilla and Helen and my father. I told her of my real desire to be a woman, though I enjoyed the pleasure that my cock afforded me too, and how coming to the school was, in a sense, the best of both worlds.
Nellie listened with a wide smile as she gently soaped and rubbed me in the bathtub. I realized that by telling her my whole secret, I was trusting someone I hardly knew with my deepest, darkest truths. I remember that I felt instinctively that she would never hurt me. And I turned out to be correct. During my two years at the school, Nellie was an unfailing friend, a patient confidante, and an exquisite lover. She was the most lovely companion that a girl (or boy) could ever want.
I wept piteously when we said good-bye, for I knew I would never return to the school after I left it. We had shared so much together, and I feared that I would never find her equal. But when I met Violet, I realized that she had the potential to fill the space that leaving Nellie had created. Violet was much more the tyrant than Nellie, and this is what I had grown to need. I loved Violet almost as fiercely when I first saw her as I had loved Nellie.
The village was almost at the gates of the park, but the park itself was two miles long. We drove into the village and left the pony in charge of a boy.
'Mind your pretty shoes, Denise,' said Violet as I got out. 'Don't dirty them!'
'Oh yes, Miss. Violet! I will,' I said, happily stepping down.
We delivered Helen's messages at the various cottages and at each one got further proof of how much I, Dennis Beryl, was detested and feared. They were all so delighted at Violet's news that he was to be kept for some time longer at the girls' school.
There was one cottage especially where the news was welcomed. A little old woman called Mrs. Pettigrew and her big buxom daughter, Lucy, kept a laundry employing six girls of the village, where all the house linen of the manor.
Sometime ago, just before I went abroad, declaring that Lucy had been insolent to me, I had persuaded my father to take our washing away from the laundry. Mrs. Pettigrew was nearly ruined in consequence, and would have been altogether, had not Helen given it back to her. Mrs. Pettigrew hated me, naturally, and when Violet told her that I was to remain at school, she laughed with vicious satisfaction, 'That's a blessed message of comfort for every poor man and woman in this village,' she cried. 'Tis kind of Miss. Deverel to keep him in the school.'
The old witch urged us inside and showed us a horrible little dark room at the back of the parlour. 'That's where I would like to keep him in his girls' clothes,' she exclaimed passionately. 'All his life I would like to keep him there fastened to a chair, feeding him just bread and water. We could do it, too. Tell Miss. Deverel, please Missy! Me and Lucy and my laundry girls, we could keep him safe and quiet in there. He wouldn't get away with these on his legs.'
With a horrid laugh she held up a cruel pair of rusty fetters with a very short and terribly heavy iron chain between them. I was terrified. Her face was so threatening, her voice so passionate. I became certain that she was in fact a crone.
I gasped in alarm as I gazed into the little dark room.
'Oh! That would be dreadful punishment,' I said, my blood quickening at the idea.
'Ah, you don't know him, Missy,' Mrs. Pettigrew replied. 'He's your cousin I heard and he's nearly as pretty as you, and he's a boy! But he's the cruellest, most conceited young gentlemen! That's where he ought to be kept, in the dark room.'
Violet had meanwhile taken the fetters in her hands and was glancing at me roguishly.
'I would like to see them on someone,' she said, weighing them in her hands as she eyed me lasciviously.
'Lock them on Miss. Denise's ankles, Mrs. Pettigrew.'
'Oh, no,' I cried in terror. Once I had the fetters on, Violet might take it into her head to lock me in the dark room. I recoiled. Violet laughed.
'Quick, Denise!' she ordered me.
'Oh, Violet!'
'Obey me! Stand here.'
With trembling hands I raised my skirt, but Mrs. Pettigrew came to my rescue.
'The fetters want cleaning, Miss. They'd dirty the young lady's pretty silk stockings. It'd be a shame to lock up such dainty feet. I am sure those little white buckled shoes have never trampled on the hearts of poor people.'
The old woman came to the door with us. 'Tell Miss. Deverel of my dark room, Miss. Violet!' she said warningly. 'Me and Lucy and my laundry girls will keep him safe in his girls' clothes.'
As we walked away, Violet burst out laughing.
'You had a narrow escape, Denise. Oh, we simply must keep you as a girl. Everybody loves you as a girl and everybody hates you as a boy.'
'But, Violet,' I said, 'I shall be quite different now. I have had my lesson.'
I looked so remorseful and penitent that Violet suddenly kissed me on the lips.
'You are delicious now at all events, Denise,' she said, 'and perhaps Helen will keep you in petticoats for a long while. Get in!'
I mounted into the governess cart and sat opposite Violet. She took up the reins.
'You won't want your parasol up, Denise,' she said, 'so put your hands behind your back and place your beautiful feet together, the smart shoe buckles level. That's right.'
I blushed and smiled and obeyed. I couldn't remember being happier. Thus we drove back to luncheon, where Violet told Helen of Mrs. Pettigrew's dark room and heavy fetters. They all laughed except me. I was beginning to wonder whether, after all, I should not be happier if I remained a girl.
After luncheon Helen said to Violet and me, 'I want you two girls to go into Mark's Cross and do some shopping for Denise. There is a flower show you can go to afterward and have your tea. So go and get smartly dressed and I
