This is the dormitory scene after Jane's Duty caning described in my Beauty and the Birch blog. Lovely lesbian masturbation after severe punishment.
The girls giggled, then Parker, the head of Dorm,
whispered something to her friend and Crawford
left the room. The Dorm head leant over me and
said a little breathlessly, ‘I’ll put some cold cream
on your weals for you, Eyre, and you’ll feel ever so better,
just you see.’
I was not averse. Actually I was beginning to feel
a pleasant heat in my soft and swollen lower lips.
Parker went up to her alcove and came back and sat
on my bed. She began to rub the cream into my bum
cheeks with slow squeezing hands. I panted at once.
Soon my hinds were so greasy they were slipping
under her ministrations, blubbery balls of flesh that
she churned together with her thumbs up their
‘Ooooh yes. Ber-but I … oh Parker … I’m …’
She chuckled knowingly. ‘Relax. Let yourself go,
silly.’ Then, ‘You’ll have to cant your bum up a bit
so’s I can get at those lower weals.’
With grateful greed I did so, on my knees, my
loins arching of their own accord. I knew the
twinned apricot of my sweet slot was pouching
prettily back between the top of my thighs.
‘Oh thank you’, I panted. ‘This is lovely.’
She laughed again and laved into my cunt with
her greasy thumbs. I ooohed at once. I felt red-hot
down there, like a kettle about to burst. When one
thumb flicked my clit I groaned aloud. The ready
sentinel was stiff.
‘I … oh heavens if you go like that … I’m, uigh,
I’m afraid I’m going to squirt!’
‘Of course you are’, she chided. ‘Just let yourself
go. You’re learning something we all find out here
sooner or later. It’s five times as fine after a
whipping. There, you’re drippy as a sponge.’
All the while she had been massaging the
underside of my bud with the ball of her thumb. It
was irresistible. I said quietly, ‘I feel I’m going to
blow up now’, and I did. She jammed her thumb full
home, palming my belly, as I came, giving me
purchase on which to mash my hungry red dragon. I
jacked straight, gripping her wrist between my
thighs, and tides of ecstasy flowed, molten, over me
in wave on shaking wave. She was right. I had
never known such lengthening of bliss, finger myself
as I might at night. Finally, when I could look
back limp, I saw Parker sniffing her hand with a
‘You smell of violets in a hot sun, darling’, she
said. ‘Heavens, you certainly go a lot. Was it good?’
I wriggled expressively for answer.
‘Well, we shall have to wipe you off in the
wash-room, shan’t we, or you will be on the mat for
staining your sheets tomorrow. The grease won’t
matter so much, but if Matron sees your goo …!’ She
tugged at my shoulder. ‘Come on, idiot. Then you
can be nice to me behind my curtain afterwards,
can’t you, I’m certain you’ve a tongue like an eel.