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Ayesha was shopping locally with her mother, getting to know the new area. She hoped not to run into anyone from the new school while wearing traditional Pakistani clothes. Although, while wearing an abbaya and head scarf, there wasn't much chance she would be recognised. The clothing completely covered her, leaving just her face partially bare to the outside world.

If she saw anyone she knew, the scarf could be used to cover her face. Not that it mattered much, as she hadn't started in the new school yet. Not starting until Monday meant no one knew her there, but she didn't want to make a bad first impression.

They were approaching two boys, standing in the mall, looking casual and very handsome. They wouldn't look at her when they had girls in short skirts to ogle.

There should be a badge, telling everyone she wasn't wearing panties. That would gain their interest. Maybe another badge would be useful, indicating she was available to be held and kissed. For someone especially handsome, another badge would indicate she was available, completely available.

Predictably Ayesha walked by without a glance from the two boys. She was an attractive young woman, and even her mother was attractive, though no one could tell that, from the way they were dressed. Of course, her mother wouldn't want to be attractive to boys, she was a traditional Pakistani, married woman. Covering herself up was natural, and an important part of her lifestyle, instilled in her from a young age.

It wasn't Ayesha's chosen lifestyle. Sent to school as a traditional Pakistani girl, she changed into a school uniform once there. If her parents found out, she would be in dire trouble. Especially as she had shortened the skirt to show off her long legs. She had to keep up with the other eighteen-year-old girls, or lose out on the social scene.

'Stop it, Ayesha,' Ishrat hissed.

Had she spoken out loud, or was her mother reading her thoughts?

'What?' Ayesha asked, trying hard to sound innocent, though sounding annoyed like a normal teenager.

'Your eyes! I can see the lust in your eyes, girl. You take after your father's sister. They are all harlots. your aunty entertained a man, when her husband was away in the army,' Ishrat said.

This was a shock to Ayesha. There was no need for her mother to put on a disapproving tone of voice, as the very idea of a woman doing such a thing was bad enough to be pilloried in a small village. Evidently she hadn't been punished by the men and women in the village, as Ayesha knew her aunt carried on the marriage when he returned home. So, some Pakistani women got away with bad behaviour, despite what her mother said.

Ayesha thought about the badges again, and stifled a giggle. Clenching her cheeks without the feel of cotton, brought on a sense of freedom, despite being with her mother. Not wearing panties was her only means of rebellion, when out with the harridan.

Wearing a boyfriend's ring was another rebellious move. She told her mother it was a chastity ring. Seeing the consternation and confusion on her mother's face had been fun in itself. The idea of chastity until marriage was a good Pakistani moral concept, but the ring was a Christian groups idea, and so her mother should be against it. How could a mother be against a daughter being a chaste virgin?

Ayesha's boyfriend was in the previous school, so she would have to start all over again in the new school. New friends to meet and get close to, and new boys to tease. Some of it she was looking forward to. She'd even bought a school uniform by stealing the money from her mother's allowance.

When a baby everyone said she looked like her father. Ayesha had grown to look like her mother, and it was uncanny how alike they were. For some time she wondered if it could be used to her advantage, but so far nothing came to mind. She'd practiced her mother's signature , but that seemed to be a waste of time.

'You're too conservative and rigid in your outlook, you should relax, mom,' Ayesha complained.

'No! I was brought up properly, and you will behave like a proper Muslim girl. How do you expect to get a husband if you misbehave and disrespect our parents? What have you got in that bag? Come on, do as you are told! I'll thrash you when we get home. You've been such a bad girl this morning. Give it to me, now!' Ishrat fiercely told her daughter.

'What's this? A school uniform! You can't wear it, I've told you before. This is for devil c***dren not my daughter. You will go home and wait for me there. I'll take this terrible garment back, and when I get home you will be thrashed, girl!' Ishrat ranted.

Ayesha was pleased to get away from her mother. It started raining so her plans to hang around in town were scuppered. Instead she did as she had been told, and went home. At least it was warm and dry, and she had some piece until her mother got home. Damn the woman!

'I'm eighteen, she can't spank me!' Ayesha complained to the empty house.

***

Ishrat slipped on the wet curb, and fell awkwardly. Someone helped her get up, and luckily she hadn't hurt herself. Her ankle felt sore, but the slight pain could be walked off. The abbaya had been ripped, and she tried to hold it together.

Nervously looking around, she hoped no one had seen her nakedness. No one was looking at her, as everyone's attention was taken up by the heavy rain. The material was quickly soaked and stuck to her body. A clothing store right in front of her might be of use, as she had to urgently get something to wear. It was embarrassing holding her clothes together, as when she walked, her legs were bared. How could she go home like this and face her bad daughter?

A quick walk into and through the store was made, on the way she picked up a dress, and headed to a changing room. She stripped off the abbaya and pulled on the western dress. Over the dress she wrapped the abbaya around her. Turning in the mirror she wasn't entirely happy, but her legs were now covered. They had been shown off in public right up to her upper thighs!

The shame of it had her reeling. Now that she was relatively safe, the fear and trepidation rattled her. She shook with fear, on the off chance someone had seen her uncovered.

A security guard spotted the nervous girl, and figured she was up to something. It was obvious from how guarded and nervous she looked.

'What are you up to?' He heavily asked.

'What? Oh! Nothing, sir,' Ishrat squeaked.

'What's this you are trying to cover up? One of our dresses? The label is still on it,' he said.

He said nothing else, expecting her to break the silence with some silly excuse they all came out with. He marched her to the check out, wanting her to pay for the dress, as he couldn't be bothered with the paperwork.

Ishrat went through all the bags, but couldn't find her purse. With her mind in a whirl she couldn't think straight. The woman who picked her up must have stolen her money! About to tell the security man, he instead shut her up.

'No excuses, just pay for the dress, and go,' he told her.

It was so embarrassing, she wanted to curl up and die. Brought up in a Pakistani village, she had been taught to obey men, and especially to be wary of western men. This one was built like a house. If he fell on her, she would be crushed.

'I don't have any money,' she quietly admitted.

A heavy sigh was emitted, and he led her by an elbow, to the back room he used as an office. She stood in front of a desk where he sat digging out forms from a draw. He wrote down her name and telephone number, then stood up.

'I'll phone this number, which had better be right. In the meantime you will remove the stolen dress, and that other thing. I'll keep them as evidence. You will get changed into your school uniform, and stand where you are now, until I return. Do you understand? Good. You will do as you are told, or I'll hand you over to the police. No, don't get undressed, wait until I leave,' he scolded her.

In a hurry to conform to his orders, she had unwound the abbay and nearly dropped it to the floor in front of him. He was a man of authority, which meant she feared him, and must do as she was told. The mention of the police was enough to have her shaking again. Holding on to the abbay, she waited until the door closed behind him.

Not wanting him to catch her out, she quickly dropped everything, and pulled on her daughter's school uniform.

The irony was lost on her, as she worried with fear of the police. If she didn't do as she was told, he would involve the police and she would be in serious trouble. She kept pulling at the hem, hoping it would somehow cover her thighs. Her daughter was the same size as her, so why was it so short?

The dress, and her abbay were neatly folded upon his desk. He said it would be used as evidence against her for shoplifting. That sounded serious, if he decided to call the police.

***

'Hi, is that Mrs Kahn, I'm the security guard at Hester's store. Your daughter, Ayesha, is here, caught shoplifting. I haven't called the police, and if you get down here with some Id, and payment for a dress, you can take her home. When can you get here?' he asked.

On the bus Ayesha wondered what had happened. If it was a friend or family member, she would help them out. The man hadn't given her time to answer, he just launched into what seemed to be the usual story. He assumed he was phoning the girl's mother, so who did he have there? Whoever it was she'd given him her name.

With both passports in her bag, she felt something could be done. Was it her cousin, because the girl could be a terror at times. Though shoplifting wasn't something she would bother with, as her family were wealthy. Could it be a rebellion from family values? She understood that.

Walking into the store, she tried to look and sound like an adult. She'd put on one of her mother's most serious looking abbay. Something to wear when visiting a bank manager. Not that her mother would dare visit a bank manager, or anyone of authority. She was fierce in the family, and among the community, though a pushover when confronted by western men. Even western women made her nervous.

'My daughter is here, where?' Ayesha asked, trying disdain as an approach.

'Mrs Kahn, thank you for coming down so quickly. I'm sure we can sort this out, and you can take your daughter home,' the big man said.

'I should hope so,' Ayesha said.

'Don't be cross with me, Mrs Kahn, it's your daughter who committed shoplifting. It's an offence and I could have called the police. So please don't give me a hard time,' he said, looking bored, rather than angry.

His hand was on the door, where the someone pretending to be her was held. Maybe she could sue them for holding whoever it is against their will. Making some money out of this would help. She needed a new school uniform now her mom had taken it back.

She put her hand on his, and said, 'I'm sorry, it's just a bit of shock for me. You see this kind of thing all the time, but having my daughter found shoplifting is a very serious matter. Thank you for not calling the police.'

Ayesha was trying hard to look sincere. Stating she was the girl's mother meant he wouldn't be questioning it now. Unless the girl was one of her white friends, then it would be difficult. The more she considered it, it was more likely to be one of them.

'Ayesha, your mother is here,' the man spoke loudly, making the girl flinch.

She stood up with bowed head, looking very sorry for herself. Ayesha recognised the girl from somewhere, even though she didn't get a clear look at her face. Why she was dressed in a school uniform was a bit of a mystery, as it was Saturday. Who did she know in the new school? Another mystery.

'Look at me when I'm talking to you, girl,' the man heavily spoke.

Ayesha gasped, and wobbled a little.

'Do you want to sit down, Mrs Kahn?' the man said.

He brought the only chair over to beside his desk, and guided Ayesha onto it. The mother was only a slight little thing, but she was pretty. Her hand on his had sparked something in him.

'It is a jolt for you, so I assume this is the first time your daughter has broken the law? Maybe I should send for the police, so they can give her a short sharp shock. How old is she? Mrs Kahn, how old is Ayesha?' he asked.

It was a shock to see her mother dressed in the new school uniform. She looked the picture of a dispirited schoolgirl. Ayesha would have to think of a way out of this. Her mother had used the name Ayesha to protect her reputation. What about her reputation?

'Why are her clothes on your desk?' Ayesha asked.

'Evidence, Mrs Kahn. She used this traditional dress, sorry, whatever you call it, to hide one of our dresses. She didn't have any money, so she was clearly stealing the dress,' he firmly stated.

'Oh! I see,' Ayesha said, knowing why her mother didn't have any money.

It was because she had mom's purse in her bag. Id, credit cards, cash, and everything else, had been handed over when her mother sent her home. Why she was stealing a western dress, she had no idea, but that could wait. The mystery of why she was wearing a school uniform was solved, and why she then thought to call herself Ayesha.

'Call me, Fred,' the man told her.

Ayesha went through the form with, Fred, filling out a name, date of birth and other details. Fred marked on the form that he'd seen a passport as identification, though Ayesha had read it all out to him, as they worked through the store's shoplifting form. To embarrass her mother, and to get her off the hook, she lied about the age.

'Was it bigger k**s who put you up to this?' he asked.

Ishrat nodded her head. She wasn't glad her daughter was playing along, she was merely relieved. The thought of being arrested was a horrendous prospect. She would never be able to face her cronies in the community ever again. They would be gossiping about her, and all her good works would be for nothing.

'I can't search a female, so my colleague will carry out a body search, then she can go home with you, Mrs Kahn,' he said, sounding more officious.

'Yes, whatever you have to do,' Ayesha said, hoping it would be a cavity search, to teach the stupid woman a lesson.

How dare she sully her reputation! It was alright to blame her daughter for shoplifting, yet she was due a spanking when they got home. At least that would no longer be possible, after this debacle. In fact, never again would a thrashing be possible. She could threaten to tell her father about this, to get away with anything she liked.

Gladys walked in and Fred walked out. The woman looked like a tough character compared to Fred.

'The girl is usually very good at home, and in school.. She's only sixteen, so maybe she doesn't have to be charged. I'll spank her when we get home,' Ayesha said, holding her mother's eye.

The woman realised what her daughter was saying. She was trying to help her, and at the same time, tell her she had something on her, and would use it. The girl was trying to embarrass her, and succeeding. Did she mean that at sixteen, she couldn't be prosecuted?

Ishrat was confused and scared. If her daughter said the wrong thing, she might be in serious trouble.

'Get undressed, girl,' Gladys ordered.

Ayesha enjoyed her mother's humiliation, but also felt she should be defending her. Reminding herself her mother had planned on thrashing her for misbehaving, she determined to make the woman suffer.

Her mother leant against the desk with both hands griping the edge. She looked away from her daughter with an expression of fear and shame on her face. The security woman was obviously enjoying the task. Her hand went between Ishrat's cheeks, and Ayesha was about to protest. An internal examination wasn't intended just the thrill of intimately touching her victim.

'That's enough, no more, 'Ayesha warned.

She watched the woman running both hands up her mother's body, looking professional, yet Ayesha knew it was all unnecessary. Around Isharat's neck a necklace was pulled and examined.

'What's this?' the woman asked. 'Do you have a receipt?'

'No we don't. It was bought some time ago,' Ayesha told the woman.

Gladys smiled unpleasantly.

'Store policy is to call the police if more than one item is found,' the security woman stated.

'Oh! Hell! That necklace wasn't stolen!' Ayesha angrily said.

'Don't give me a hard time, it's store rules, not mine. Get dressed girl,' Gladys dismissively said.

Ayesha sat by the desk, pointedly not looking at her mother, who was standing in front of it. Her mother stared at the floor unable to face her daughter. Ayesha had tried to save her dignity, so no one could blame her for this terrible situation. Ayesha looked angry, and her mother looked ashamed. This had gone too far, but it was too late to explain who she really was. They were stuck with it until it blew over.

***

In the police station no one was interested in them. They had to wait in an interview room, until someone took note of her mother's details. The security guard hadn't really looked at the passport, and the police put into their system what the security guard had written down. Ayesha was relieved that they hadn't found out her mother's real age. This way she would get away with it, as a first offence.

Then they ahd to put up with more waiting. All the while the two women were wondering what disaster was to befall Ishrat. Ayesha couldn't bring herself to talk to her mother. When she held her close for a moment or two, trying to reassure her, her mother shrugged her off.

A woman walked in and sat on a chair opposite them, where the policeman sat earlier. The plain sparsely decorated room was intimidating, and the woman looked serious, which heightened their anxiety.

'I'm a social worker not the police. I'm pleased to tell you there won't be a prosecution. The store has dropped the charges, and they have the dress back so there's nothing to pay. I want to talk to you about your daughter, Mrs Kahn,' Elizabeth said.

Ayesha looked at her mother, and was relieved to see the woman couldn't bring herself to admit who she really was. The shame had hit her hard. She slumped in the chair, looking like a schoolgirl, caught being a very bad girl. Had her mother ever been a bad girl, or even a slightly bad woman? She doubted it.

'What can I do to help,' Ayesha asked.

'I have a copy of the forms you filled out and they have gone on record hare and in the department. Your daughter's DNA and fingerprints are also on record with the police. The school will be informed, but they will still register her on Monday,' Elizabeth informed Ayesha.

Ayesha glared at her mother, and said, 'That's not a good start. It's the first day at a new school, and I'll, err, you'll have a bad reputation,' Ayesha glowered.

'Don't worry, I'll see you Monday morning and let you know how things stand with the welfare department, and the school,' Elizabeth said, then turned to the mother, 'Until then young lady, you must be a good girl and do as you are told. Your mother will look out for you and remember, she has your best interests in mind, so do as she tells you, alright?' Elizabeth lectured.

'Yes, miss,' Ishrat murmured.

'I mean it, Ayesha. You are not responsible for your actions, so others must guide you. I need to know you are going to follow that guidance. Now, tell me,' Elizabeth heavily said.

'Yes, ma'am, very sorry, ma'am. I'll be a good girl and do as I'm told. At home I will follow my, err, my mother's instructions, and in school I will do as I'm told by my teachers,' Ishrat humbly promised.

Ayesha wanted to giggle in embarrassment for her mother. The woman was hunched over, looking and sounding like a naughty little schoolgirl. How many hours had she been subjected to this indignity? She had succumbed to behaving like a schoolgirl, and even looked like one.

What was her mother going to do when they got home? At least she wasn't the type to blame her for this mess. She would take full responsibility, get into a huff, and not talk for a few days. At least she would forget about punishing her for wearing a school uniform.

'Good girl! I know you are a good girl, and will settle into your new school. She's always been well behaved, though sometimes growing up in a different culture has been difficult for her,' Ayesha ground in the humiliation.

Her mother seemed to enjoy being chastised, and put down. Did she think it was deserved after showing herself up? This was Ayesha's last chance to dig at her mother, though all she wanted to do was get home, and start the healing process. Getting back to normal was best for both of them.

***

Monday morning came around slowly, after a difficult weekend. They didn't speak, and Ishrat hardly ate anything. She kept to her room, cried a little, and apologised profusely when Ayesha persistently knocked on her door Sunday evening. Although she wanted to help, defeat was admitted, and she left the woman alone to get over the awful experience.

'Come on you need to get dressed to meet the social worker,' Ayesha prodded her mother.

Ayesha dressed as her mother would, with the most dour and married woman looking abbay and headscarf she could find. When her mother timidly walked in t to the kitchen, Ayesha wanted to laugh. Instead she quickly turned around to make the tea.

'Sit down, girl, and I'll make you breakfast,' Ayesha ordered.

'Ayesha! Please!' her mother quietly protested.

'The woman will be here soon. We need to keep in character, so remember you are Ayesha the schoolgirl. We'll have to change once she's gone, so I can go to school,' Ayesha said.

'I'm not sure you should go to school in this. It hardly covers my body, and we are the same build,' Ishrat pointed out, sounding unusually timid and hesitant.

'Don't worry, I'll deal with the woman, and we can get back to normal,' Ayesha told her.

The woman seemed inconsolable, and not her strident self at all.

The doorbell rang and Ayesha gave her mother the look, before answering the door.

'Hi Margaret, how are you this morning, I'm good, and so is Ayesha,' she laughed.

'I spoke the headmaster yesterday, and your girl can be registered. He's an old friend of mine so he didn't mind me phoning Sunday. There will be no problem, and the incident will be kept quiet. You need to go into school later this morning to talk to the headmaster. They have an experiment in progress, so pupils aren't expelled from school. Anyway he'll explain it all to you,' Margaret lectured.

'Now then young lady, are you ready for school?' Margaret asked Ishrat.

'Yes, ma'am,' Ishrat automatically responded.

'She's ready. Books are packed, and lunch too,' Ayesha proudly spoke, having prepared everything for herself.

Maybe she would prepare herself for school every morning, instead of letting her mother do it all. It would be the start of her freedom, and breaking away from her mother's apron strings.

'Come along young lady, I've a busy schedule today,' Margaret said.

The look on her mother's face was a desperate plead for rescue. Ayesha was shocked, but she quickly recovered.

'It's alright, I'll take her. You are very busy so I can at least help,' Ayesha offered.

Her mother had automatically risen from her chair by the woman's authoritative manner. It was one thing telling her daughter off, quite another speaking to a government official.

The woman grabbed Ishrat's hand and led her away. Ayesha followed with complimentary remarks about the social worker which weren't slowing the woman down at all. Outside the front door her mother cringed in fear of being seen by neighbours.

'I need to speak to the headmaster, and settle her in. Don't worry, your daughter will be safe in school,' Margaret firmly stated.

Ayesha knew what high school was like from her own experience, and didn't have Margaret's faith that Ishrat would be safe.

Ayesha grabbed hold of her mother to whisper,' Don't worry over being seen, everyone will think you are me. I'll collect you from school this morning, and take your place,' Ayesha told her, then let go.

It must have been like this for her mother, when Ayesha first went to school. Ayesha waved, but her mother was caught up in her own torturous thoughts. With both parents being disciplinarians she had been glad to get away to school. Western schools were easy, nice, places to be. The teachers actually hugged her if she cried from falling over. Her parents would tell her not to be a cry-baby.

'Well maybe it will teach yo a lesson to be in school,' Ayesha said, to herself, and almost laughed.

Making another tea, she sat at the kitchen table, relishing the free time, while hearing k**s on their way to school. The housework needed doing, as her mother had been out of action for two days. That could be caught up with when they swapped places later.

Ayesha practiced applying make-up to look older. Comparing herself with a recent photo of her mother, she actually looked older. She was eighteen, and her mother was thirty-two, though the woman looked young for her age. Never before examining her mother closely, she found they did look very much alike. More like sisters than mother and daughter. As a Pakistani woman, she wasn't too young to have a c***d, though in England sixteen was frowned upon.

'Where has the time gone!' Ayesha exclaimed, and grabbed her mother's bag to catch a bus.

It was on the bus that it sank in what she was planning, and she became nervous. Talking to a headmaster was daunting, tricking him into believing she was the mother was risky. She hoped he had a sense of humour, as it was sure to go wrong. At least this time she couldn't be blamed for it all.

Her mother couldn't possibly tell her father, and she would want to keep it a secret from everyone else. That meant not receiving a thrashing, though her mother could give her a hell of a tongue lashing, when she recovered from this hell she was in. At the moment her mother was in shock, and kept that way by the quickly escalating events.

***

'Yes, sir, I appreciate your help,' Ayesha smiled at him.

The headmaster was younger than she expected, though it might have something to do with her new, older image. Her appearance was supposed to be for others, but it was effecting her behaviour as well. Her voice sounded deeper, and more assured. The headmaster was just a man after all. It was amusing how eager he was to please.

Ayesha leant forward as though eager to hear what he had to say. The abbay was loose and folded over to show off some cleavage. She was covered decently from head to foot, so it made it all the more thrilling when something of her flesh was revealed.

Ayesha had nice plump breasts and was wearing a push up bra. It hadn't been put on for him, it had been to boost her confidence. She knew the boys in school like them as they had made it obvious, as boys do. Men were less obvious, yet just as interested.

Just then she realised what was happening, but didn't move to cover herself. For a moment her eyes narrowed then she couldn't help giving him a big smile. If only he knew, her headmaster was ogling a student's breasts. Could she blackmail him to gain something? It meant revealing who she and her mother really were, and that secret had greater possibilities.

'You must be very proud of your school, Mr, I mean, James,' Ayesha lightly said.

'We have a good reputation here, and I have to say my reputation is highly regarded. Otherwise the county wouldn't have picked us for the experiment. So, do you agree to sign the forms?' he asked, while looking down the front of her abbay.

Leaning back she seemed to consider his proposal, then pretended to discover her clothing slip.

'Excuse me, what must you think of me?' she blushed.

'I didn't like to say anything. I won't tell Mr Kahn, if you don't,' he shrugged, indicating he was joking.

'That would be difficult, as he is away in Pakistan on business,' she said, while straightening her clothing.

'Leaving a beautiful woman like you at home must be difficult for both of you,' he said, and looked as though he regretted the thoughtless statement.

'Well, yes, it has been difficult, in many ways. We were so err, well, I shouldn't say. Sorry. You seem to be a man that extracts confidences. It must be from dealing with people all day,' she blushed and looked down at her lap.

The whole routine had been developed over the years to deal with her parents, and teachers. It usually worked. Rather too well with him. He couldn't be called a dirty old man because he thought she was around his age.

'Corporal punishment is out of favour everywhere, though I can see the point of an experiment to test the principle. I'm sure my daughter will be a good girl, and not need caning,' she said, and signed the release forms.

'Thank you, I hope not. Giving permission to participate in the experiment helps the school gain credibility with the university. More of our students will be accepted into their colleges. They are also testing the idea that it is the parents who are responsible for their c***dren's bad behaviour,' he said.

Looking up from the document, her expression was wide eyed wonder, and worry.

'Oh, my! Does this mean you can cane me too? I can't imagine how it would be to have both of us bent over your desk,' Ayesha said. 'If she is naughty, would I be bent over your desk, for the cane?' she innocently asked, and looked away from his stare before she burst out laughing.

'Well people do say it's not the c***d that are naughty, it's the parents. So yes, I think you should be bent over my desk for her shoplifting,' he sternly spoke, with a hint of humour.

He was mirroring her playfulness, meaning to tease her. Having experience of mothers expressing their desire at teacher parent evenings, after a glass of wine, this wasn't a total surprise. The women expressed their desire to be dominated by a teacher in various ways. The woman looked young for her age, and acted shy, but there was a certain naughty playfulness that was attractive.

'Are you sure? Is that what I signed for, a canning?' she worriedly asked, looking sincere

'Well, no, maybe next time,' he said, no longer sure if she was playing or not.

.

'Have we finished here,' Ayesha said, trying to bring herself under control.

Flirting with her headmaster was dangerous and could bring all sorts of trouble. Mainly for him, but for her too.

'I need to see my m, err, daughter,' Ayesha sweetly said.

'I'm afraid she's in class now, so you will have to wait until after school. You can collect her at three-thirty, though I'm sure she would be embarrassed in front of her friends. It would be better to wait for her at home,' he firmly said.

Damn! Had she lost the advantage by checking the game too soon, and holding back? What did he expect, for her to actually bend over his desk? It was just a tease, and he knew that, he'd joined in and enjoyed the game.

A stilted conversation continued for awhile, and they agreed to meet soon, to discuss her daughter's progress. Neither of them seemed sincere. Ayesha accepted she wasn't going to rescue her mother after all. The longer she was in a classroom the more difficult it would be to replace her.

She'd brought wipes to wash off the make-up, and planned to swap clothes with her mother. At the moment she had more dark rings under her eyes than her mother. Some of them were from worrying about her.

On the bus home, Ayesha whispered to herself, 'With a daughter in school, there could be so much trouble, you just have to worry about them.'

She didn't laugh as the sentiment was meant. It didn't take her mother long to become a schoolgirl, and it wouldn't take Ayesha long to become a mother. Just a quick fuck with the headmaster, that's all it would take. She shivered at the thought. Being bent over the man's desk wasn't a pleasant position to be in.

The thought of applying herself to housework when she got home, made her almost regret not taking that game further with the headmaster. Anything to delay the boring chores.

How would it be to have been spanked and fucked by the headmaster, then walked into his office tomorrow, as one of his pupils. He would have to have a strong constitution, or have a heart attack. She had been moist in his office, and now she was safely away from him, she was wet from the thought of it. Having her pussy wrapped around the headmaster's cock would be interesting.

Having her headmaster wrapped around her little finger would be more interesting.

She imagined having him crawl across his office floor, begging her not to tell anyone.

***

Ayesha went to collect her mother from school, knowing the woman would want her to be there. Looking out for her mom, the small woman couldn't be seen among the big western girls pouring from the school gates. Even when her mom walked toward her she was looking past her, at the girls leaving the gates.

A young girl approached in a junior school uniform, wearing a very short skirt, showing off too much thigh. For a moment Ayesha thought something had gone wrong, and this young teenager was delivering a note. The thin legs sticking out from the short skirt made her look like Bambi.

'Shit!' Ayesha quietly exclaimed.

The little girl was her mother! How had this happened to her? Growing up with a big adult left her with the impression that she was still much bigger than her. They hadn't stood next to each other comparing themselves in a mirror, so the illusion stuck. This apparition was real and a shock.

Her mother looked like a little schoolgirl!

She'd quickly dressed her and fixed her hair this morning, in such a hurry, she hadn't taken it in. Without makeup her skin was smooth and young looking. The school uniform, flat shoes with white ankle socks, and cute pigtails, added to the look. Knowing the woman was her mother, it was still difficult to see past the image of a young schoolgirl.

Her mother couldn't look at her, and kept her head down, hiding her embarrassment in long black hair. She wasn't going to enthuse or complain about her first day in the new school. The woman had a hard day that was obvious, and couldn't speak about it. Ayesha felt sorry for the woman, and automatically took her hand.

On the bus home, a couple of young guys were looking at her mother and whispering. She'd obviously noticed, as she was desperately trying to pull the hem down. The short skirt was around her upper thighs, showing off her bare legs.

The flat shoes and ankle socks came with the uniform, and her mother wore them like a good little girl. Ayesha had no intention of wearing them to school. She had high heels, and stockings to go with the school uniform. Which made her look like a slut, but that was her intention. Teasing the boys was a well practiced hobby.

'You look cute, and those boys think so too,' Ayesha told her mother.

Ishrat covered her face with both hands, and tried hard not to sob her heart out. Today her daughter was in charge while she was just a naughty schoolgirl and Ayesha was her strict mother. She felt humiliated from being in school, and what happened there, but this was felt to be a part of her punishment.

'Don't worry, I'll not tell anyone. . . As long as you are a good girl for me, and do as you are told,' Ayesha firmly spoke.

'Thank you, Ayesha. I will, I'll be a good girl, and do as I'm told,' Ishrat rashly promised.

Her expression revealed she was sincere, until she realised what had been agreed to. About to protest, her daughter put a stop to anything she could possibly say.

She pulled up the skirt, and said, 'I hope you've got a decent pair of panties under this little skirt. It's far too short to wear without panties. You can be such a naughty girl sometimes,' Ayesha told her mother.

Ishrat cringed from knowing the two boys were standing above her, and had seen her panties. She sat on the seat frozen with shame, unable to pull the skirt down. Instead of getting off the bus at their stop, the boys stayed on, to ogle Ishrat. The white blouse was tight on Ayesha, but on her mother it was loose as she had an almost flat chest.

Having small breasts hadn't been a concern of Ishrat before today. Wearing a blouse without a bra, had been noticed by the boys, and they had jeered her a couple of times during the day at break times. Concern over her tiny breasts, and that she was showing them off, caused her to feel a great humiliation.

Ayesha stared at her mother as much as the boys were. The woman had shrunk on the seat, to look like a little girl. She was trying to curl up and become invisible. The skirt had been pulled down as far as it would go, and was still being tugged. Showing off her legs like this was a heinous crime for a married Pakistani woman.

They were long skinny legs like a young teenagers. Ayesha was puzzled over how young her mother looked. They were very similar looking facially as well as their build. Not wearing makeup, having a delicate skin, her hair in pigtails, and the school uniform all contributed to the image.

Ayesha took after her father and looked older for her age, though not old enough to be the mother of an eighteen-year-old. So far she was getting away with it, but that was because she presented herself as the mother, and no one challenged her. The headmaster was used to seeing young mothers, in school and out, and so was the social worker.

They had swapped passports, which meant her mom was meant to be eighteen, though the woman actually looked younger. They had got away with it at the police station, so officially she was sixteen. They had accepted the age as it was from a form filled out at the store. Ayesha had helped the guy fill out the form, by reading out the details from the passport, and she mislead him with the birth date.

Ayesha wondered what she should do next. They could exchange places next Monday, when the social worker and headmaster would have forgotten them.

Once safely inside the house they kicked off their shoes and padded into the lounge, with Ishrat in her little girl's socks, and Ayesha in her tights. Aysha noticed the pink butterflies decorating the socks, and wanted to laugh at the woman. She must have had a hard day in school wearing those.

Although safe in her home, Ishrat was still keyed up, but needed to talk to her daughter.

'I'm sorry, Ayesha. I've brought shame onto the family. I need to be punished, and being sent to school like this is a fitting punishment. I've been very strict with you and you've tried to tell me what it is like in a western school. I shall learn what is expected of a student, and be a better mother. Please, forgive me, Ayesha,' Ishrat said.

'Well, I don't know what to say. You'll have to go to school this week, as the social worker will be checking up on you. You want my forgiveness for what you did, and being a harsh mother?' Ayesha heavily said.

Ishrat wasn't just feeling guilty, she was scared her daughter would tell her husband what happened. Being in a police station was bad enough, though going to school and showing off her body in public, that was worse. The torment wasn't over yet! Going to school all this week would be a torture.

If her husband found out, he might send her home to her parents, to live in a strict village. At all costs she must satisfy her daughter that she had learned her lesson, and was going to be a good woman from now on.

'I'm sorry Ayesha. I'm in your debt from saving me from being prosecuted. When you go to school I'll be a better mother, I promise,' Ishrat said, with bowed head, and her palms pushed together.

Her mother was at last showing her some respect, though it was too little too late. Words were one thing, but everything would return to normal once she was back in school. Something tangible and physical was needed to show how things had permanently changed between them.

'They still might prosecute you for theft. I'll have to report to the police that you are behaving yourself, and haven't brought anything home without paying for it,' Ayesha lied.

'Oh! Ayesha! Please! Tell them I'm a good girl, I can't go to prison, I'd die of shame!' her mother wailed.

The once proud and haughty woman sank to her knees, holding onto Ayesha's legs, with big tears falling. Ayesha was shocked to see her mother in such an abject state of fear.

'You must promise me to a be a good girl, and do as you are told,' Ayesha said, unavoidably twisting the knife in deeper.

'Oh! Yes! Ayesha, I promise to be a good girl for you. I'll be guided by you, and obediently follow your instructions in all things. You know western ways, so I'll do as I'm told, Ayesha. Thank you, thank you,' her mother wailed, and began to kiss her feet.

'Stop that right now! Get yourself together! We've things to discuss,' Ayesha shouted at her mother.

It was terrible to see her mother prostrating herself so abjectly. The woman had towered over her when she was a c***d, demanding deference, conformity, and instilled fear. Having the woman debase herself shook her up.

'You would have thrashed me if I behaved so disgracefully,' Ayesha shouted at her.

'Yes! You are right, my mother would have thrashed me. I should be thrashed, yes, that's only right,' her mother agreed.

Ayesha figured her mother's guilt had been assuaged, now that she had cried so emotionally.

Ayesha plonked herself on the sofa, feeling weak from having her world turned upside down. Her mother had always been a tower of strength, and the outburst of raw emotion had rocked her to the core. Her mother walked back in, with a leather strap. The leather was thin enough to sting, and thick enough to hurt.

'You must punish me, Ayesha, I deserve nothing less, and you are the only one who can do it,' Ishrat said,

'Well, I don't know about that. I'm the only one who knows how bad you have been, and you want to keep it that way. I know how the school works, and the police, more or less. It's true, you must do as you are told, so we can get through this,' Ayesha lectured.

It was obvious her mother needed punishing, to get over the guilt, and to keep her silence. Was her mother being devious? What the hell! This was a chance of revenge upon the overly strict woman.

'Come here!' Ayesha said, and patted her lap.

Her mother handed over the strap, and lightly positioned herself over her daughters lap. Ayesha pulled her mother's skirt up around her waist, but hesitated over pulling her panties down. The panties came as a set with the socks, and matched them with decorative butterflies. What the hell, she'd gone this far, so why not.

Pulling her mother's panties down, Ayesha raised the strap.

'Oooww! Sorry, Ayesha.'

'Oooww! Sorry, I'm really, really sorry.'

The woman whimpered her regrets, with each strike of the strap. Across both cheeks the strap marked lines of red, as blood coursed to the surface of her smarting flesh. It was starting to throb, and her legs began to quiver.

'Hold still, girl,' Ayesha demanded.

After ten strikes to her mother's bottom Ayesha had enough. It wasn't making her feel any better after all. Revenge on her mother for the years she had been suppressed wasn't working. Having to sneak to school with a school uniform had been an ordeal. It was either that or look a different and attract the worst type of attention.

Now it was her mother's turn to draw attention that she didn't want. Showing off her legs at school, might give her an insight into what she had suffered. What if she could send her mother to school for the rest of the term? That might guarantee a change of attitude.

Ayesha examined her mother, standing before her like a sinful schoolgirl. Everyone accepted her as being eighteen, so why not try it. Being forceful with her mother now, while she was submissive from guilt, might give her a chance. She could also play around at home, rather than go to school!

Damn! It was a great idea! Send her mother to school as a punishment, to teacher a lesson, and for the fun of it!

'You had better call me mum from now on. Otherwise you will make a mistake in front of someone, and you will get into even more trouble. Well? What do you say, girl?' Ayesha firmly told her mother.

'Yes, mum, sorry for all the bother mum,' Ishrat apologised.

This was a sight to behold. Her mother was looking humble with head bowed, and apologising to her. Ayesha couldn't wait to see her off to school tomorrow morning.

'Do you have home work? Then get it out and get it done. By the way, you are now sleeping in what was my bedroom. I'll have the master bedroom,' Ayesha announced.

'Yes, mum, thank you mum,' Ishrat said, sounding lowly and humble.

Ayesha kept looking over her mother's shoulder, pointing out the errors. Her mother hadn't had much of an education and was struggling with the course work. Ayesha wondered if this was a good idea, as her results would fall. Though, when she took over next week, she could soon catch up.

'That's wrong, you stupid, girl. Do it like this,' Ayesha lambasted her.

Ayesha cooked dinner, and was happy to see her mother accept it, and compliment her. It was weird hearing her call her mum, but it also empowered her.

'You had better get on with your chores, and I'll help you with the homework, when you are finished,' Ayesha said.

'Thank you, mom. I'm finding the school work very hard, and I don't want to let you down,' Ishrat said.

As promised Ayesha helped her mother by patiently explaining what was needed rather than shouting at her mistakes. Ayesha hugged her mother when it was time for bed, and this time Ishrat hugged her back.

'Don't worry, I'll get you out of trouble. You just have to do as you are told, and be a good girl for me,' Ayesha said, and meant it.

As soon as she said it, Ayesha wondered where it had come from. Of course, it was one of her father's sayings. When she had been sent to him for a punishment, he pretended to spank her, gave her a sweet, and told to her to be a good girl. Her mother accepted it, which was a surprise. The woman happily went off to bed, as though she thought Ayesha was protecting her.

The security at the store, the police had forgotten about her, and after tomorrow, so would the social worker. Ayesha relaxed in her father's easy chair, and wondered if she could send her mother to school in her place.

There was plenty of money in the bank account, though she wondered when her father would return home, and therefore how long did it have to last? She began to wonder what he did to earn so much money. Ayesha shook herself awake and made her way to her mother's bed, for an early night. It seemed too large just for her, but dare she take a lover?

A naughty thought occurred, stirring the beginnings of an idea. Of course she couldn't do that, not really. It was going too far. Arranging for her mother to have a boyfriend in school would be too outrageous. While falling asleep she thought through how it might be possible, and giggled to herself at the audacity of such a plan.