"Now, my dear," continued Isabel. "Are you familiar with the story of Cinderella?"

Toni nodded, her mouth dry. She knew Isabel was leading up to something, but as yet she couldn't guess what it was.

"And what happened to Cinderella at midnight?" asked Isabel.

"She... she had to leave the ball." stammered Toni.

"Why?"

"Because her clothes turned back to rags. And her carriage..."

"Never mind the carriage. She lost her fine clothes. Yes?"

"Yes."

"Well, Cinderella. It's midnight. And I want back those fine clothes I lent you."

"What?"

"You heard what I said. Now where's that bra?"

"It... it's in the kitchen."

"Here it is," a voice shouted, and the small black garment flew out of the crowd to Isabel, who caught it.

"Now the knickers," she said.

Toni was struck dumb. So that was her game. She wanted Toni completely naked. And in front of all these people! She stood, rooted to the spot, unable to move a muscle."

"The knickers!" barked Isabel.

Toni looked at her pleadingly. "But I can't..."

"Give them to me bitch! Show them what a fucking slut you are."

Toni realised that she was trapped. That whatever she did they would strip her naked. She looked down at them. Their eyes were bright, their expressions hungry. She glanced across at the door, but she knew that if she even tried to escape they would-have her before she got even half way, and would forcefully rip the panties from her.

But to have to remove them here, standing on a table, exposed to all eyes, though it seemed unthinkable, was also somehow exciting. To be grabbed and stripped by the crowd would be horrible. But to stand up here and reveal herself willingly to them was a different prospect altogether, and one that somehow appealed to her baser instincts. For a second more she hesitated, then, her heart beating fast, her hands went to her waistband.

The whole room seemed to be holding its breath as all eyes were fixed on the aristocratic young figure. Toni felt carefully for the little bows at her hips, aware that releasing them would be all that was required.

She pulled, and the bows came undone. At once the tapes fell away from her backside, so that all that was preserving her modesty was the tiny triangle that she still held in front of her. Then, her face scarlet, she tossed the panties to Isabel and stood, legs apart, hands on hips in a brazen display that belied the fluttering of her heart.

"Shit look at that."

"Nice wet cunt baby."

"What a fucking slut."

Toni reddened as the students jostled for a look at her. She felt extremely turned on as she stood there. It was as if their gazes were physically caressing her naked body, fondling her firm young breasts and probing into her wet slit. She felt an overwhelming desire to touch herself, remembering once more the effect that the razor had had in making her sex more visible and inviting.

It was almost as if Isabel had been able to read her mind, for as these thoughts were running through Toni's head she spoke suddenly.

"Why don't you touch yourself?" ,

Toni glanced at her, her guilty expression betraying the fact that the same idea had occurred to her.

"I-I couldn't."

"You fucking will, won't she boys?"

"Yeah," they shouted.

"Go on," said Isabel. "You know you want to. Touch your fucking tits."

Toni stood, rooted to the spot. She wasn't sure what was happening to her. Under normal circumstances she would have covered herself with her hands and strove to hide herself. Yet here she was, totally exposed, and wanting desperately to do as she was asked. Slowly, almost mechanically, her right hand began to move, sliding over her hips and up toward her breasts. It was as if she had no control over the limb as her fingers crept over her bare flesh, up her rib cage until they brushed the underside of her milky-white globes.

There she hesitated, her natural modesty and puritanical upper class upbringing fighting against the primeval urge that was welling up inside her.

The primeval urge won.

Toni cupped her breast in her palm, squeezing gently, enjoying the feel of her fingers as they stroked the softness. She grasped for her nipple, amazed at its hardness, the fleshy teat standing out proudly, betraying her arousal. She moaned quietly, her head lolling to one side as her hands continued their caresses. And all the time the sensation in her crotch was growing stronger, and she knew that her wetness must be visible to those watching.

Her hips began to move, almost imperceptibly, at first, her sex lips twitching as her body responded to her arousal. Her sex felt as if it was on fire, and the urge to touch it was overwhelming.

Once again, Isabel seemed to sense exactly what she was feeling.

"Do it," she whispered. "Touch yourself down there. That's what the men want to see."

"Yeah, you whore, frig yourself."

"Finger that cunt."

It was all the encouragement Toni needed. Almost at once her other hand dropped to her crotch. This time there was no hesitation. Her fingers slid down her slit and found her clitoris, already hard and shining with her love juices. She forced the lips apart, suddenly anxious that all those watching should see her most intimate place, all modesty abandoned as her exhibitionism, so long suppressed, was suddenly given its rein.

She slid two fingers inside her, then three, shoving them in as far as she was able, grunting aloud as she did so with the sheer pleasure of the act.

"Get down bitch! Lie on the table."

Toni hurried to obey, crouching down then prostrating herself on the table. Without even being ordered to she slid down so that her backside was off the end. Then she spread her legs wide.

She began to frig herself. The action was entirely spontaneous. She didn't understand why she did it. All she knew was that it was the most delicious sensation she had ever experienced. And doing it here, lying brazenly exposed before all these young men made it doubly pleasurable. Then she felt a hand on her knee. She looked down, not breaking the rhythm of her hands. Isabel had removed a large ornate candle from its holder on the mantle, and was holding it up to her.

She looked at the woman quizzically, not understanding what was meant by the gesture. Isabel thrust it forward again.

"Use this, slut," she said.

Then Toni understood, and the realisation of what Isabel was suggesting sent a shock through her. But with the shock came a further wave of pleasure, and her hand abandoned her love hole and reached for the candle, the wetness from inside her shining on her fingers.

She took the candle in both hands, examining it, still lying with her legs apart, her hips pumping slowly back and forth, turning the object over and staring at it fascinated.

"Use it," said Isabel once more. "Fill that fucking cunt."

Toni wrapped her hand round the base of the candle. It was very thick, more than an inch in diameter at the base and tapering slightly along its length. Its surface was moulded into a rough pattern, and she worked her fingers up and down its length, feeling the texture beneath her fingers. She looked down at the faces below her. The room was completely silent now and all eyes were on the candle. For a second she realised the outrageousness of her behaviour. She who had been brought up with the etiquette of the English drawing room, where it was considered unladylike to even initiate a simple conversation with a man, let alone show any sexual feelings. And yet now she was totally nude, and about to perform the most outrageous act she had ever contemplated.

For a second, she almost lost her nerve. But the sensation inside her was too strong. She held the candle upright in her fingers and lowered it toward her crotch.

With her left hand she prised open the lips of her sex, guiding the wick of the candle between them, an extraordinary thrill running through her as she felt is cool surface against the heat of her flesh.

She eased it into her. It was not difficult. The wetness allowed it to slip in easily. Further and further she pushed it, almost crying out with the sensation as the deeper regions of her sex were penetrated for the first time. Then it was completely inside her, pushed up as far as it would go, and she felt filled to bursting point.

Despite her naivete, Toni instinctively knew what to do. She began to move the candle back and forth inside her, sliding it almost halfway out, then forcing it back in again, revelling in the sensation as its rough surface ran over the walls of her sex. She moved it faster, and the pleasure increased. Once again she looked down at her audience.

"What a shameless bitch."

"Fuck yourself you dirty whore."

The young men were open-mouthed, enthralled by her performance, and the sight of their arousal spurred her on to new heights.

She was totally absorbed now, her legs wide apart, knees bent, her shoulders hunched as she rammed the candle into her. Holding it in her fist and working it back and forth as a man might when masturbating.

Hands closed about her breasts, squeezing them. She looked up to see the boys' grinning faces as they caressed them. Someone slapped her face and she felt fingers probing her backside. One of the boys spat on her face, then others did the same, covering her face, breasts and stomach with saliva.

Still, to Toni, her pleasure was almost total, but she sensed that there was still one more height to be scaled and at that moment she felt something begin to well up inside her, a pleasure hitherto unexperienced. Although she had never had an orgasm, her whole body told her that something extraordinary was about to happen and she worked all the harder, her hair flying about, her breasts bouncing up and down as she lost herself in a flurry of pure sexual gratification.

She didn't hear the door open. She did, however, hear the Principal's voice.

"What the hell is going on here?"