Chapter 14: Felicia

Felicia remained an enigma. On the one hand she was a full member of the Inner Circle and took an active part in all the Society's activities but, on the other, she kept herself somewhat aloof, at least as far as he was concerned. While the rest of the girls had begun to relax in his classes and, in many cases, actively flirt with him, Felicia held herself apart. Not that she was awkward or uncooperative, no, it was more that she seemed to be disengaged, disinterested.

This both saddened and disturbed him for, in a school full of exceedingly attractive girls, in his eyes Felicia stood head and shoulders above the rest. She had the looks of a fantasy American cheerleader; heavy, blonde hair, a slightly retroussé nose, lips that seemed to settle themselves naturally into a pout. Unlike the wholesome image of the all-American cheerleader, her blue eyes seemed to smoulder with a promise of unimaginable delights. Her figure, too, was outstanding; full breasts that started high on her chest and consequently looked even larger than they were, a narrow waist and flaring hips. And her bottom! To Adam it was the most perfectly shaped bottom he had ever seen. He was constantly tempted to touch it, smack it, fondle it. He was not particularly into anal sex but his recurring fantasy was to ease his cock between these perfect cheeks and penetrate her anal sphincter.

His problem was that he couldn't work out how to get through this barrier. Oh, he knew he could just tell her to turn up at a certain time and place and she would do so, but somehow that didn't seem right. It dawned on him that he really wanted a 'normal' relationship with her. He wanted to woo her, court her, win her heart. He tried everything he knew to draw her out, engage her attention, but to no avail.

It was Jacqueline, as usual, who solved his problem.

"You're going to have to do something about Felicia," she said one day out of the blue.

"What do you mean?"

She looked at him askance. "I mean you're going to have to get your relationship with her sorted out. And soon. There'll be trouble if you don't."

He sighed. "Is it so obvious?"

"Don't tell me it's mutual."

"What is mutual?"

"Men!" she exclaimed. "Look, the poor girl is pining over you something rotten. She's been bitten badly. I can't see what she sees in you." She said nastily.

"She is? She has?" He was astounded.

She shook her head in disgust. "Adam, sometimes you can be the densest man alive, you know."

"I know, " he grinned. "It's part of my charm. But what about Felicia?"

She blew him a raspberry. "After that remark I don't think I should tell you. I think I should just let you stew."

"You wouldn't do that to me, would you?"

"No," she sighed. "I wouldn't. Although you don't seem to have noticed, Felicia is in love with you. And it would seem the feeling's mutual."

He blushed. "Not very professional, is it?"

"Fuck professional. What are you going to do about it?"

"I don't know," he sighed. "I can't seem to get through to her. I want to - I try to communicate with her but there seems to be some sort of barrier and I can't break it down."

"Then you're going the wrong way about it."

"I know, but I'm not sure what to do. I don't want to put her off."

"Put her off?" Jacqueline was flabbergasted. "Look, you've tried the civilised approach and it isn't working so why not try the opposite? Try the caveman approach. Just drag her off into the bushes and shag her rotten."

He opened and closed his mouth several times but could find nothing coherent to say.

"Think about it," said Jacqueline, getting up. "But not for too long."

He studied Felicia carefully for the next few days, turning Jacqueline's suggestion over in his mind. She seemed to be aware of his scrutiny and endured it indifferently. After much agonising, he made up his mind. 'After all, you're not getting anywhere as it is and her solution might just work, ' he told himself.

He planned the scenario carefully, checking and re-checking in his mind to make sure he had it just right. This had to be special, he knew. He had just one chance and he didn't want to blow it. Then, during his free periods, he set about searching for what he wanted.

When all was ready, he called Felicia back as she was leaving the classroom. "Felicia, I would like to see you this evening at 7, please."

She paled slightly. "Yes, sir," she murmured a bit reluctantly.

"Now do you have white stockings - no suspenders, white shoes, a short, pleated skirt and a thin white blouse?"

She thought for a minute then nodded.

"Good. Seven, then. Don't be late,"

She glanced up at him, coyly, "Is this schoolgirl fantasy time?"

He frowned. "That is an impertinent question. Let's just say it's a variation on Ms Henderson's office."

"Yes, sir," she breathed and sashayed out of the room.

He checked the room again to make sure all was right. It wasn't much but he fussed about like a broody hen. He felt like a callow teenager on his first date again.

The armchair was black leather. He had considered and discarded white and maroon leather, brocade and velour. The window was blacked out to ensure the only light came from the standard lamp next to the chair. The standard lamp was set just so, so that the chair itself and the floor in front of it was bathed in a pool of warm light and the rest of the room shrouded in shadows. In the gloom, he had placed several frames from the club room, some of which he had draped with black cloth to make them loom menacingly in the shadows.

Satisfied all was in order, he sat in the chair and waited. She was exactly on time.

"Come," he called in response to her knock.

She stood just inside the door slightly knock-kneed looking coyly at the floor, trying to affect a look of slutty innocence. She didn't need to for she was the picture of schoolgirl sex. The light from the corridor behind, framed her like a corona. She had followed his instructions perfectly; the lacy tops of the white, net stockings ended just below the hem of the dark grey pleated skirt. The loose white shirt shimmered in the low light.

"Shut the door and come here." He pointed to a spot just in front of where he sat. "Stand up straight, hands behind your back."

Starting at her toes, painted red he noticed with pleasure, he slowly and insolently ran his eyes up her body. He met her eyes watching him with a strange expression - apprehension, excitement, fear? He smiled slowly and coolly and she flushed under his gaze. He leaned back in the chair, simulating an indifference he most definitely did not feel.

"Are you wearing a bra?"

"No."

"Panties?"

"No."

"Put your hands on top of your head."

Her breasts lifted under the silky material, stretching it; her nipples making small mountains under the taut cloth.

"Turn round."

Slowly she pirouetted. The pleated skirt hung from the rounded swell of her bottom, tantalisingly concealing the lush curves.

"Bend over"

She had to brace her feet apart to maintain her balance as she bent at the waist. The movement lifted the hem of her skirt revealing the delightful lower arcs of her bottom cheeks and the plump split peach of her vulva. The contrast between the warm skin and the white, net stockings was intensely erotic. He caressed the end of the riding crop up and down the sensitive insides of her thighs then flicked it upwards at her vulva.

"Ow," she gasped, rocking forwards and almost losing her balance.

"Be still."

He caressed the leather tip up and down her thighs a few more times, occasionally flicking the tip against her cunt. She gasped and tensed her thighs at the blows but otherwise held her pose.

"Stand up and turn round. You can bring your arms down."

She turned to face him again, her face flushed and her eyes shrouded in mystery. He regarded her calmly although his heart was pounding and his cock was making an uncomfortable bulge in his trousers.

"Kneel." He pointed with the crop. "Spread your knees. Wider. Now lean back and grip your ankles."

In this position her breasts were thrust up and out, the shirt pulled tightly across them. Her nipples, now obviously aroused, jutted proudly. He leaned forward and slowly undid the buttons, pulling the shirt free from her skirt. Her breasts were magnificent: generous without being heavy with conical pink areolae tipped by broad pink nipples. He stroked them with his fingers. They were, as he had known they would be, delightful to touch - soft and elastic yet firm, her warm skin soft and smooth as velvet. His enchanted fingers explored their fullness, circling round the base and teasing the nipples. She dropped her head back, eyes closed and breathing heavily as he teased her.

"Felicia." Her head snapped forward. "There's something I must say. You know I am going to hurt you. Maybe a lot." She nodded. He continued toying with her breasts as he spoke. "If you want to stop, just say so. Do you understand?"

"Yes." Her voice was barely a whisper.

"Good."

Without taking his eyes off her face, he reached behind him and found two nipple clamps connected by a silver chain. He tweaked one nipple between fingers and thumb, pulling it into prominence, then deftly affixed the clamp. Her eyes flew wide and her mouth opened in a soundless 'O' as sparks of pain shot through her body. Without waiting he repeated the action with the other nipple. A tear slipped from the corners of her eyes and slid down her cheek but she uttered not a sound. With a gentle finger, he wiped them away.

"Stand up, take off your skirt and resume your position."

Now her cunt was exposed and it was as beautiful as the rest of her; her swelling mons, covered in soft hair the same honey shade as her head, nestled roundly and proudly between her thighs. The white of her stockings setting off the warm tone of her skin.

"You are very beautiful," he said.

Standing, he took up the riding crop and pushed the chair away with his foot. He looked down at her for a moment then flicked the crop against her mons. She jerked and gasped. He regarded her for a moment then, carefully and deliberately began to smack her: the insides of her thighs, the front of her thighs, her mons, her belly, her breasts. He tried to keep the blows light - to sting rather than hurt. He wanted to tease her, to torment her, to make her burn. As he worked, never landing a blow on the same place twice, he saw her outer labia swell and open to reveal the pink lips of her inner labia. Small drops of moisture oozed from between them.