The Dominant Male

and I, enjoying our touch,
    Rosie ‘volunteered’ to test the whipping-stocks, Cathy wielded the whip.
    Entertainment enough to send us all to our beds having played happy!
    Except perhaps Rosie, all locked up; but that was her choice, to be my slave.

Good Girl – Guy Masterleigh
    Elizabeth was nervous as a kitten driving to the party. She’d checked her uniforms over and over again, and asked dozens of trivial questions of the organiser, trying to establish what would be expected of her; the answers reassured her, but each answer triggered further questions.
    She arrived at the place two hours early; just as well, it took her a panicky fifty-five minutes to find somewhere to park, and get back to the door again.
    She knocked, to have it opened by someone whose voice she immediately recognised as Bursar to Miss Arbuthnott’s Imperial College for Grown-up Young Ladies and Gentlemen. But today he was going by another name, Earl Inverary, resplendent in full Scottish evening dress, kilt, dagger in his sock, (she later learned it was a sgian-dubh ).
    He directed her to the changing rooms, where she was too shy to introduce herself to some of the other girls. She’d been told the theme was school uniform, so she had brought the two the organiser had asked for in his emails, plus another, just in case.
    Her Mary Janes had heels a little higher than you’d expect of a real schoolgirl, over cute white ankle socks with a red and white gingham frill, white full-fit cotton school knickers, a bright red and very short pleated mini skirt, red and white gingham blouse, nothing underneath.
    Instead of buttoning the blouse properly, she had left the lower buttons undone and tied the sides together at the bottom, leaving her slim midriff bare. She left the top button undone and tied the short red tie, so only six inches showed.
    She found a mirror and looked, They’d have crucified me for this, at the convent , she thought, almost giggling aloud as she added some rouge to her cheeks, and very red lipstick to give the saucy St Trinian’s-schoolgirl look that she’d practised.
    ‘Fancy meeting you here!’ The statement startled her, as she realised it was addressed to her.
    She caught sight of someone very much like her Aunt Laura in the mirror. Turning around she realised for sure it was her aunt, whom she’d thought pretty strait-laced until now.
    Laura was wearing a heavyweight black traditional gymslip almost down to the knee, with a belt, white blouse buttoned to the neck, tie worn the way the nuns would have insisted on, knee-length socks and low-heeled Mary Janes. Her long dark hair was in two plaits. Over the outfit she wore a single-breasted black blazer, with a red enamel HEAD GIRL badge on the lapel.
    Elizabeth recognised the blazer badge and tie as those of Miss Arbuthnott’s Imperial College.
    ‘I’m Louise here, what name are you using?’
    This flummoxed Elizabeth, but she realised that of course, she’d best use another name too.
    ‘I’d not thought, but I’ve always liked Wendy.’
    ‘Hello, then, Wendy, you look very cute, I could really quite fancy you myself. Now let me introduce you to the other girls.’
    Wendy felt herself blushing; she’d always fancied some girls, but had never acted on it.
    She’d never have been interested in Laura, she seemed closed, controlled, defensive; but Louise a very different proposition. Middling height, middling boobs, neither slim nor chubby, but very ‘girl next door’.
    A boy had once described to her how when they were hunting in pairs at the disco they’d look for two girls dancing together around their handbags. They’d identify one as the ‘looker’, the other the ‘chance’. They’d cut in and the least desperate would go for better looking one, expecting her to play too hard to get.
    The other boy would go for the other girl, expecting there to be a good chance of a snog, or if he got lucky, a blow job or better. Pair Louise with almost any of the girls there and she’d be the ‘chance’, and a good one.
    She realised that if Louise asked her after she’d had a glass or two of wine, the answer would probably be ‘yes’, whatever the question.
    She met them all, the names were a blur, but there were girls younger than her, (but none that looked too young, even dressed as schoolgirls), some like Laura, who were rather older. There was a delicate-looking dark-complexioned girl, perhaps from an Asian background, two very different girls