Masters School for Boys and Girls

Masters School for Boys and Girls

Entrance Exam

  Marcia Summers watched her foster parents’ car drive away down the long graveled lane by which they had arrived, and she looked up at the immense black man in a custodial uniform grinning down at her. He was bald and very dark skinned, with muscles that bulged seemingly everywhere. He stood nearly a foot and a half above her 5’1” petite frame. He placed his hand on her shoulder while barely bending his elbow.

“This way girl,” he said in a deep, rumbling voice, and tugged her toward the large stone building they stood in front of. He didn’t lead her up the imposing staircase to the double door entrance though. He guided her parallel to the building several yards away, where a small single door, arched by two leafy trees, was looking non-descript and barely visible.

Marcia swallowed, sadness and apprehension in her green eyes. She’d only been told yesterday that she was being sent to Masters, an exclusive private school she’d never heard of. She had been home schooled up to now, and had had little contact with other kids her age. She had no friends, so at least there were no painful goodbyes, but it was terrifying to be sent so unexpectedly from her home for the first time in her life to live in a strange new place. She wished desperately her step parents had allowed her to bring something, anything from her small bedroom. Her favorite books, even one of her stuffed animals, who had become her best friends in all the world. But they were firm in saying the school would provide everything she would need, and would allow no personal items.

The black man led her through the doorway and down a dimly-lit hall. His large hand and slipped from her should and had glided down to the small of her back. She could feel the warmth of it through her blouse. His hand was so large it reached from one side of her 22-inch waist to the other. He nudged her to make a right turn down a connecting hallway, and as they did so his hand slid down even further to rest squarely on her small butt. As if to make the point, he tapped her repeatedly with his long, thick fingers.

Marcia shuddered at the touch, stomach turning immediately, but she didn’t know what to do about it. She bit her lip and, reached a trembling hand up to brush back shoulder length red hair behind her ear, using the movement to attempt to twist away a little, but he kept his hand where it was. They stopped in front of a wooden doorway. He turned the knob in front of her and opened the door inwards, pushing her through with the other hand on her ass.

“They’ll be with you in a minute,” the man rumbled in his deep voice. “Make yourself comfortable.” And with a firm squeeze of her

ass he left the room, closing the door behind him.

The room was little more than an alcove really. There was a single door on the opposite wall and not a single bit of furniture. Just four bare walls and a single light in the high ceiling. It was about 6 feet square. Marcia drew in a shuddering breath and tried to stop trembling. It was as though she could still feel that hand clutching her ass, and she self-consciously smoothed out her skirt. There were no sounds. She waited in the dim stillness growing more nervous and uncomfortable.

When the doorknob to the adjoining room finally turned it was like a gunshot and Marcia jumped and squealed a little before covering her mouth with his slim hand. A man stood in the open doorway, distinguished-looking with a van dyke on his face, wavy grey hair, and though he was in his mid-50s perhaps he was slender and appeared fit. He wore a casual business suit, a light blue open collar shirt and dark blazer, and tan pants. He motioned for her to come closer.

“I am Headmaster Marcus Trelane,” he said simply, in a strong voice. “The first order of business will necessarily be a physical examination, Miss Summers. This way please.”

Marcia swallowed again and gave a shaky nod of her head. She slipped past him into the next room. It was a larger room and brightly lit. Her green eyes flitted quickly around, saw all the things she might expect in a doctor’s office: a scale, a table with a silver tray on it that had a few instruments she couldn’t quite make out, and an examination table. It took her a moment to realize that there were stirrups attached to the table. She’d never seen anything like them before, but she instinctively understood what they were for and shuddered. There was also a 60-inch TV screen on the wall.

But the most disconcerting thing in the room was that there were about 20 boys in it, all around 17 or 18 years old, she guessed. She saw no signs of a doctor or nurse.

“Now then Miss Summers,” said the Headmaster, closing the door with a click that sounded ominous to the frightened young girl. “These young men are all in the final year of their studies here at Masters, and as part of their curriculum they’ll be assisting in your exam. While you get undressed I’ll bring them up to speed on what we know of you so far.”

The Headmaster said this casually, as if it were not in the least unusual to ask a young girl to take off her clothes in front nearly two dozen boys, with no other girls in the room. Marcia’s heart skipped, and for a moment she was afraid she would throw up. She shuddered again and her frightened eyes glanced around the room. “Y-you mean to my underwear?” she said in a shaky, timid, terribly small voice. Her throat went immediately dry and her voice cracked on the last word.

“Nude,” the man replied, again perfectly casually. “And quickly. We have little time to spare. You don’t want a detention in your first minute here at Masters, do you?” There was an edge of darkness to this last question, a hint of impatience. Marcia, faced with essentially being trapped in this room with so many men, quickly tried to judge the usefulness of resisting, of arguing. The Headmaster’s eyes narrowed, as if he could read her thoughts, and the girl quickly rejected the idea.

“Y-yes sir,” she replied in barely more than a whisper.

“The correct response to me is ‘Yes Headmaster,’” he corrected her.

Marcia swallowed once more, trying in vain to moisten her dry throat. “Yes he-

headm-master.”

She closed her green eyes and bit her lip, squatting down to untie her trainers. “Marcia Summers,” she heard the Headmaster say, “turned 13 just under three months ago. “She is the only child of foster-parents. Her real parents are something of a mystery, it seems. There is

liShe was raised in a rural area and had few acquaintances growing up.”

By this time Marcia had removed her trainers and ankle socks and now stood up again. Her eyes still closed, trying to forget that there were so many boys in the room, she began to unbutton her white blouse, and with a soft moan shrugged it off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor.

“Miss Summers!” came the Headmaster’s voice, suddenly sharp. “You do not throw your clothing haphazardly. Fold them neatly and when you are done drop them in that drawer over there.”

Marcia jumped and nodded her head vigorously, face blushing as she saw the boys grinning at her in her bra. She squatted down again, folded her socks and then her blouse and put them in a neat pile on the floor. She stood again and turned her back to the group of boys as the Headmaster continued to talk about her past. There was a roaring in her ears and she could barely hear him as she unzipped the mid-thigh-length skirt and let it fall slowly down her thin legs. She folded it neatly too and added it to the pile.

Now wearing

only a white cotton bra and matching bikini panties, she knew all could see how much she was trembling. She looked timidly over her shoulder, praying that she had misunderstood and that she had undressed enough, but a nod from Headmaster Trelane gave her the terrifying response. Her fingers shook so badly she had difficulty unclasping the bra. She slipped it down her arms, folded the cups inside each other and the straps in amongst them, and laid it on the pile of clothing.

She shook her head very slightly, as if in denial, as she blinked rapidly to hide tears of shame while she rolled her panties down her narrow thighs. She stepped out of them, feeling the eyes on her naked bottom, and suddenly was reminded of the large black hand on it as well. She folded the panties neatly, added them to the pile.

Picking up her only possessions in the world, she took them to the indicated drawer and opened it. She was scared and moved quickly and jerking spasms. She shoved the clothes into the drawer and realized a moment too late that it wasn’t like a dresser drawer – it was a chute of some sort. Warm air wafted over her face, as well as the scent of something burning. She had just tossed all her clothing into an incinerator!

Marcia gasped and tears really did start to fall from her green eyes as she lifted one hand to cover her breasts and the other to conceal her pussy. She could feel the eyes of every boy in the room on her naked body like a physical thing, and she wished she could throw herself down the chute after her clothing.

“Come here,” said the Headmaster.

The girl drew in a long, shuddering breath and turned miserably, looking at the floor, humiliated beyond all belief. She forced her legs to carry her forward to him, feeling small and insignificant.

“Step on the scale and face us,” he told her in a commanding, yet gentle voice.

She nodded and got up on the scale, turning to face the hungry eyes on her naked body. She wanted to wipe away the tears flowing down her flushed cheeks, but couldn’t bring herself to uncover.

“Mr.

Burbridge, will you report the girl’s weight please,” said the Headmaster.

A grinning blond boy stepped forward, came uncomfortably close miserable girl, and pointed at her feet. “Place your feet on the marks,” he said, still smiling. She could hear the anticipation in his voice.

She looked down and saw the outlines of feet drawn on the scale, about 20 centimeters apart. She forced herself to spread her feet and step on the indicated spaces.

“Hands at your sides,” he said. His voice was commanding, almost annoyed. She looked desperately around for someone to tell her that wasn’t necessary, but looking at the Headmaster it was clear that obedience was expected. She closed her eyes again, turned her head shamefully to the side, and lowered her hands. There was an immediate change in the room she could sense even with her eyes closed. She could hear some gasps, a few chuckles, people shifting their weight where they stood. She could also feel the boy leaning even closer into her, could his warmth against her naked skin.

There was a long, incredibly uncomfortable pause for Marcia. “45.3 kilograms, Headmaster,” the boy said finally.

“Very good.” Marcia could hear a pen scratching on paper, so quiet had the room become. “Mr. Lockwood, will you report her height.”

Marcia opened her eyes slightly, peeking through to see the first boy stepping back and a new boy with dark hair come toward her.

“Stand up straight girl,” he said in what she could only think of as an order. She jumped a little and brought her feet together. “Head up, look straight ahead.” She did as she was told, trying to ignore the chuckles from the boys at the suddenness of her movement.

He slid a pole behind her down, with a horizontal piece coming to rest on her head. She gasped when he put a hand on her tummy, pushing in as though to make her stand up straighter. It was embarrassingly close to her pelvic bone.

“152 centimeters, Headmaster,” the boy said after a moment.

Marcia stood trembling with her back to the measuring bar, finally bringing up the back of her hand to wipe away tears. She knew she must be beet red. She blushed easily anyway, and she could feel how hot her cheeks were with her hand. Al the boys were looking at her, most grinning, lots of eyes locked on her pussy or breasts.

“Mr. Davison, please report her inseam.”

Marcia’s green eyes shot open wide at this. He was going to let a boy measure her inseam? This was the most humiliating experience of her young life! She almost protested again but actually had to bite down on her tongue to stop herself.

Another blond boy approached her with the biggest grin she’d see yet. “Spread ‘

em!” he said.

The girl shut her eyes once more and shuffled her feet apart. Some morbid curiosity though made her open her eyes again. She saw him kneeling down in front of her, making no effort to hide his stare at her virgin pussy, now just centimeters from his nose. She sobbed in shame, her chest heaving. She had never been seen naked before, and now this!

She felt something between her legs and looked down, and her mouth opened wide when she saw a horizontal bar, like the one that had been dropped down to measure her height, now being raised up. The boy, still grinning, slid the bar up and up, until the cold metal made contact with her pussy. He’d raised it so quickly it spread her sensitive labia, sliding deep into the pink flesh of her virgin pussy. She gasped at the cold, a little scream escaped her, and she couldn’t stop herself from hunching over at the waist and jerking her hands to her front as if to push the awful thing away.

“Stand up straight!” the boy nearly shouted at her. “Hands at your sides!”

Choking back sobs of humiliation, she did her best to stand straight, making extreme effort to keep her hands pressed against the sides of her thighs, though her fingers clenched into little fists. The boy jiggled with the measuring shaft, lowering it carefully a bit until it just barely touched her labia, by now more than a little swollen.

“89 centimeters,” he reported at last. “Leggy little cunt,” he added after a moment, then gripped the horizontal shaft, making sure that his hand brushed her pussy in the process, and lowered it back to the floor.

Marcia gasped again. It was a word she was only barely familiar with, but she knew how derogatory and vulgar it was. She looked at the Headmaster expecting him to reprimand the boy for having said it.

“Yes she is,” was all he said. “Step down from the scale Miss Summer, and we’ll begin measuring the rest of her body.”

She came down from the scale on shaky legs, afraid her knees were going to give out completely. The nude, frightened girl was directed to the very center of the room, where there were also marks on the floor for her feet, but this time they were nearly a meter apart. She was also instructed to stretch her arms out to each side, leaving herself completely spread eagled.

Marcia suffered immeasurably as one after another was told to come forward to measure a different portion of her young body. The diameter of her legs were measured at the ankles, calves, knees, and lower and upper thighs. Her arms were similarly measured. Her bust, waist, and hips were measured, and metal tools she had never seen before were used to measure the diameter and length of her nipples. The spread between her thighs was measured at the crotch, and the length of her slit. Her skull was measure, and particular detail was given to measuring the precise diameter of her throat.

No opportunity was lost to fondle and grope her. Her small breasts (reported as size 30B) were squeezed, her pink nipples tweaked and pulled. Her firm ass cheeks were grasped firmly on many occasions, and her virgin pussy was stroked and teased. She could feel it getting swollen and moist, which added to her humiliation.

Through it all, the thirteen-year-old virgin girl was order to bend this way and that, position her arms and legs just so, bend forwards, bend backwards; at one point she was even made to bend backwards all the way with her hands on the floor, her pussy grotesquely on display, thrust up between her spread thighs for all the room to stare at as she cried softly and miserably.

At last they seem to have gotten all the measurements they needed, and Marcia was sitting on the floor, her legs curled under her, sniffling as tears of shame continued flowing from her pretty eyes.

“Get on the examination table, Miss Summers,” said the Headmaster. Marcia nodded slowly in response. There wasn’t really any question anymore of protesting anything. All dignity was lost to her. There was nothing more they could do that would humiliate her further. She crawled onto the table and lay on her back, and without a further word a boy on each side of the able took a leg and lifted it into the stirrups on each side. The girl did not resist, but she did gasp when they bound straps to her legs, locking them in place, before spreading them so wide apart that her hip joints began to ache.

The Headmaster himself approached between her spread legs as the crowd of boys moved in close for a good look. Marcia trembled where she lay, growing more certain with each moment that she was about to be gang raped. She was completely helpless, spread for them, vulnerable and available for whatever they wanted to do with her.

The Headmaster reached out a hand and gently caressed her pussy with his fingertips. “She has little pubic hair for her age,” he said, lightly pulling on the red fringe. He smiled at her from between her legs. “Enough to draw attention to her cunt, but not enough to hide anything from view.” The boys all laughed at the Headmaster’s joke while Marcia squirmed in embarrassment. “Some find it cute, but ultimately it’s just a nuisance. Over the next week she’ll receive electrolysis to remove it permanently, but for now we’ll just shave it away.”

 To the young teenager’s horror, the Headmaster was given cream and a razor, and she suffered the indignity of having her pubic hair entirely shaved away as a room full of boys crowded around to watch. He wiped away left over shaving cream with a small towel and she felt them all staring down at her newly-bald pussy.

The Headmaster held out a hand and said simply, “Camera.” One of the boys placed a long narrow cylinder with a cable coming out the back end into his palm. Marcia trembled more. Were they going to photograph her?

Headmaster Trelane pushed a small button, and a light flashed on the end of the tube, which he pointed directly at the girl’s pussy, less than an inch away.

  Suddenly, huge on the 60-inch TV screen, Marcia saw the image of her own pussy flash into existence. She clapped her small hand over her mouth to stop herself from suddenly screaming out.

The image she saw was the ultimate betrayal. The inner labia were swollen, engorged so that it blossomed out like the delicate petals of a flower over the outer lips. The labia majora themselves were also engorged looking fat and protruding out almost hungrily. The color of the plainly exposed inner flesh was brilliant red, a far different color than she’d ever seen of it before when she would curiously examine herself with a hand mirror. It glistened undeniably with moisture in a way she’d only known before when she teased herself with her fingers, sending herself into paroxysms of pleasure. Her clitoris, that wonderful little bud she’d come to think of as the single most fascinating part of her body, was also a brilliant red and protruded visibly from beneath the folds of tissue that normally kept it hidden.

She wanted shut her eyes, turn her head, close out the awful evidence of what had happened. Even with her inexperience, she knew that this meant arousal, that her sex was finding pleasure in things that had been done to her, the humiliation she had suffered. Even as that word pierced her brain like a dagger, she saw her inner labia undulate lightly, unfold a little further before retreating back a bit into itself. It was as if her body was acknowledging it all, everything they had done to her, and winked at them conspiratorially to beg for more.

As if the reality of her thoughts wasn’t shameful enough, Headmaster Trelane chose that moment to give voice to them, to tell all the boys in the room aloud what shameful feelings her imagination was bringing forth.

“You can see clearly that the labia majora and labia minora, here and here,” he said, nudging her swollen flesh with a cool metal probe, “are swollen to several times their size than a state of non-arousal. As with all girls, her body will make it known what it wants, even when her mind is reluctant to admit it.” He went on for some time like this, prodding the crimson flesh in various direction to make a point. The boys who were close enough bent their heads to watch carefully. Those further away watched the TV screen, as Marcia did. Try as she might, she simply could not tear her vision away, and she felt all the more ashamed for that.

The Headmaster flicked the probe several times across her clitoris, causing his young subject to shudder. “Her clitoris, too, is nicely enlarged, a trend that will likely continue as she grows older. It will provide easy access, and a number of possibilities for entertainment.

“There are a number of indications that this girl, despite her high state of arousal, has not yet enjoyed an orgasm. Although there is considerable wetness around her cunt, there isn’t yet an indication of the heavy amount of creamy cum you would expect from a female orgasm. Further, although the aroma of her sex is strong, it is only a mild fragrance compared to what we can expect when a full orgasm is achieved.”

Marcia covered her mouth again, stifling a choking sob as sexual reactions were discussed so casually. Her body was being used for a live sex demonstration for an entire class of boys, when not 45 minutes ago she’d never been seen naked by a boy at all.

The Headmaster used his thumb and finger to spread her pussy wider apart near the top, and then the metal probe touched her pee hole. She jumped, her hips thrusting up and then downwards reflexively as a little cry escaped her throat.

“Just under the clitoris is her urethra,” he said, continuing as if this were a normal classroom lecture. He traced the point of the probe in a tiny circle around the opening, and Marcia’s hand bunched into fists again while she gritted her teeth. Every muscle in her body went tight as she exerted massive self-control to remain still.

“Now then, Mr. Strickland, Mr. Burbage, will you assist me in spreading the labia as wide as you can please?”

Marcia whimpered helplessly as two boys – the blond boy who’d measure her height and a black boy, both eagerly stepped beside their Headmaster between her spread legs, grinning broadly. They each pinched one side of her labia in their fingers and pulled to the sides. “The girl thrashed her head from side to side. “

Owww! You’re pinching me!”

“It will only be for a few minutes, Miss Summers,” the Headmaster said. He exchanged the metal probe for a cotton-tipped swab on a long, slender stick. With his other hand he aimed the camera directly at the entrance to her virgin cunt.

Marcia looked at the TV screen miserably, blinked a couple of times to clear her blurry vision, and saw her spread pussy magnified grotesquely. The Headmaster moved the cotton swab closer.

“You see here undeniable evidence of her virginity,” he said, prodding gently at her hymen, a milky membrane with a few tiny spots on it. “In this case we have a micro-perforation hymen. You can see the small holes in the tissue here, here and here. It is these holes that allow the menstrual blood to escape the vaginal channel.”

The girl sobbed again, her most intimate bodily functions discussed so casually. As she looked at the screen, her pussy seemed to undulate again, and a bit

more creamy fluid seemed to ooze forth. “You can see that this cunt is still telling us that it’s craving more attention,” he said with a smile. Marcia sobbed again, but even as she did so she could feel her pussy react yet again.

“You’ll note, too,” the Headmaster continued as he pushed gently on the hymen with the swap, “that the tissue here is somewhat more substantial than many girls. Thicker, for lack of a better word. This indicates that when the time comes, breaking through the hymen is likely to be difficult, as well as likely to be more painful for her to experience.”

The spread girl shivered as she lay bound on the table. Was this it? Were they going to rape her now? Tear through her cherry and cause her unimaginable pain?

“Please….” She whimpered weakly. “Have mercy….”

The Headmaster looked up at Marcia’s face from between her spread legs, and his blue eyes crinkled in a smile. He gently patted her pussy with the flat of his hand. “You’ll receive all the mercy you deserve here at Masters,” he said in a way she could only interpret as kindly. He nodded to the boys holding her pussy open. Burbage released her pussy lip immediately, but Strickland pinched it even hard a moment and twisted it before letting it go, making the girl squeal and squirm on the table. Then, abruptly, the Headmaster turned to one of the boys by the instrument table. “The mark,” he said.

A long stick with something dark protruding from the end was given to him. Without another word Headmaster Trelane pressed the end of the stick firmly against Marcia’s flesh a fraction of a centimeter above the slit. So unexpected was the move that she screamed out in a short cry, expecting something painful. But it didn’t hurt at all. But when he removed the device, the number 1503 was imprinted in dark ink there.

Without anyone giving the order to do so, Marcia felt her legs unstrapped from the stirrups and lifted out. She lay weakly on the examination table, legs dangling over the end, as she cried softly. In a dark corner of her mind, she wished someone would tease her swollen pussy again. A base, animal part of her could feel the climax so close, and she was sure if someone would just grope her for fifteen seconds she would cum. At the same time, the thought of suffering an orgasm in front of 20 boys was a further humiliation too great to bear.

Why had her foster parents brought her to such an evil place? How could she escape? What further horrors awaited her here?

“Stand up.”

Her morbid thoughts were interrupted by the Headmaster’s sharp command. Inwardly groaning, shivering and terrified. She rolled off the table and stood weakly. “Feet one meter apart.” She had no will to resist, not now, not in this room. “Hands behind your back. Head down. Fix your eyes on the floor one meter in front of you.”

She did all she was told, standing naked and defeated, with all the boys lined up before her staring at her open, naked, and vulnerable young body.

“You have been stamped with your new name,” he said. “From now on at this school your designation is Fifteen

Ohthree.”

Marcia heard the words, could not believe how dehumanizing what he had said sounded. But she merely nodded. After all she had been through in the last hour, there was nothing else to do.

No, there was one more thing. There was silence in the room, growing more awkward with each moment. Eventually it dawned on the girl that something more was expected of her.

“Yes, Headmaster,” she said in a voice barely above a whisper. And as the silence continued, she added, “I am Fifteen

Ohthree.”

One of the boys pushed some soft, thin material against her tummy. “This is your school uniform. Put it on.”

The material was white and filmy, and only two pieces. She put on the skirt first, pleated the shortest skirt she’d ever imagined. The hem was just a few centimeters below her crotch, and left fully the bottom quarter of her behind exposed. Then she put on the top, a kind of bra that fit snugly, like a sports bra. It was thin and her hard nipples were outlined clearly, as well as the pink of her aureoles.

She returned to the position of spread legs and hands behind her back meekly, looking at the floor. The boys didn’t move for several long moments, just stared at her as she tried to be still and not think about how badly her pussy itched and wanted to be scratched. Then, wordlessly, the boys filed out of the room leaving her alone with the Headmaster.

“You behaved well,” he said. “And performed well.” He stepped close to her and put his hand on her small breast, squeezing gently and causing her to tremble. “Do you want me,” he said softly, leaning down to whisper close to her ear, “to touch your cunt?”

Marcia swallowed and shivered feeling her nipple pressing against his palm. Yes, she did want him to touch her pussy, more than anything in the world she wanted release. But she couldn’t ask for it…she just couldn’t!

And then he softly pinched her hard nipple through her top, pulling and rolling it between his fingers. Marcia gasped softly and felt her shoulder slide backward as though unseen hands were pushing them, slowly thrusting her breast more firmly into his hand. She felt her pussy quiver again, then gasped as she felt a small trickle of fluid in her inner thigh, creeping down.

“Yes,” she finally whispered, with an accompanying small sob of defeat. “Yes Headmaster, I do.”

She dared to look up at him, into his face. She saw the eyes crinkle up into another smile. He seemed genuinely pleased by her response, and she was inwardly astonished at how gratified she felt to have pleased this man who had treated her so horribly.

“That’s good,” he said, and slowly removed his hand from her breast. He backed away to the doorway, opened it, and motioned to someone outside. Another man in his 30s entered the room, and the Headmaster exited, leaving her alone with some new humiliation.