His Adventure Her Adventure
- 3 years ago
- 32
- 0
Henry’s Exposed Adventure Ch. 05 free porn video
A thick, wrought-iron sign with the single word ‘GRIMSLEY’ was arched between two massive stone pillars that marked the entry to this all-girl academic enclave. Ms. Frobisher gunned her little red sportscar right between the pillars and up the long driveway, all uphill, to where Grimsley sat overlooking Lake Penasaukee, or Lake PenisSuckIt, as the guys at East Point called it.
Grimsley’s main building was a large, gothic monstrosity that, according to the story, was built by old Phlebotomus Grimsley, the ‘Corset King.’ Old man Grimsley made his fortune back in the nineteenth century by inventing a new type of corset-stay, made of laminated bamboo and hard rubber. A portrait of Phlebotomus hangs in one of the halls and reveals a rather stout and stubby man, with enormous cheeks sagging down on either side of his head and framing a great, white, woolly mustache. Someone once said he looked like a walrus with rickets. At first, no one would buy his corset-stays and he nearly went bankrupt. But then oil was discovered in Pennsylvania in 1859, which killed off the whaling trade. The death of the whaling trade caused an incurable shortage of whalebone, which at that time was the preferred substance from which to fashion corset stays. So Phlebotomus’s invention wound up saving the entire international corset industry. He became wealthy almost overnight.
On a trip to Paris, Phlebotomus met a fabled French prostitute and dominatrix known as Madame X, whose portrait was later painted by Whistler. It was a match made in Heaven: he was smitten, and she needed his money. They were married at the Cathedral of Notre Dame. Notwithstanding her prior professional accomplishments, the bride wore white. But Phlebby insisted that she wear beneath her bridal gown a corset made with his new-design stays. She obliged him, though she did so grudgingly. The restraints that the bridegroom thus placed on his betrothed did not augur well for the marriage, and she swore to herself that she would free women from the Curse of the Corset. When they returned to America, Phlebotomus and the new Mrs. Grimsley took up residence at Grimsley Hall, just outside Armpit, New York. Rumors circulated in Armpit that their marriage was a tempestuous one, and late one night a butler was sent to the town to summon the local police to the great estate. When they arrived, they were greeted by a grisly (one might almost say a grimsley) sight: Phlebotomus lay dead on the marriage bed, his eyes bulging out, his tongue hanging from the side of his mouth, his faced a bright purplish crimson color, and his body stark naked – except, that is, for a corset of which his newfangled stays were integral components.
An inquest was convened, and the coroner ruled that the cause of death was asphyxiation by corset. The evidence showed that the corset had been tightened around his body to such an extent that he was unable to draw a breath.
A little joke began to circulate about Phlebotomus and the corset he’d been wearing at the hour of his demise: people say the corset was built with a ‘stay of execution.’ Anyhow, to this day in Armpit, New York, the locals still dispute the account of old man Grimsley’s death. Some support the coroner’s view that he liked to wear women’s corsets and accidentally strangled himself with one. Others think that Madame X tricked him into trying a corset on for size, just to see what it felt like, and once he had it on she grabbed the corset ties and pulled with all her might, effectively strangling her husband. The truth will never be known.
While the cause of Phlebotomus’s death is still debated, what the widow Grimsley did afterwards is abundantly clear. She sold the Grimsley Corset-Stay Company for more than one million dollars – a lot of money in those days – and endowed a school for girls where they would learn to be free, independent and dominant women who would never again be corseted by any man. And that’s how Grimsley Hall got started.
At first both classrooms, dorms and athletic facilities were all contained in the great mansion, but as the school enlarged its attendance, it soon outgrew the mansion. Dorms and classroom buildings were constructed. and the mansion now housed the school’s administrative offices, together with a large auditorium that had been made by knocking out some of the walls and floors to make a grand, theater-like space. This was where all the girls’ plays, including the one in which Henry was about to play a role, were staged.
As new buildings were built, they were connected to the the main building by enclosed walkways, which the girls called the hamster tubes. Unlike East Point, where all winter we had to bring our coats everywhere to go from one building to another, the Grimsley girls could go from class to cafeteria to class without ever leaving the heated building. This was also by design. The girls had to wear the basic school uniform, consisting of plaid skirt and blouse. But in fulfilling their mission to relieve women from the dictates of patriarchal clothing, the students were free to hike their skirts up to their panty lines. They were also free to go bra-less, if they were comfortable with that, and panties were not required inside the school. Sometimes the girls even changed right in the hallways for gym or modern dance practice, stripping down completely naked right in the middle of the hallway before putting their workout clothes on. Dress restrictions were reimposed when any visitors were in the building, especially male visitors, but that was a rare occurrence.
Instead of stopping at the main entrance at the administratino building, Ms. F_ kept on driving right past it, and past three or four other buildings as well until she made a right turn and drove behind the building complex and then back in the direction from which we had come. We went all the way around the complex to a parking lot at the rear of the administration building. The car skidded to a halt, splashing water in all directions. We were about 20 yards from the old Grimsley Mansion building, and the rain was still coming down in torrents, heavier than when we were on the road, if that was possible.
‘You get out here,’ she said. ‘See that double metal door over there, at the back of the building? Go and wait right there, outside that door, and don’t move. I’m going to drive back to the main entrance and go in that way. Once I’m inside, I’ll go to the back of the auditorium and then open that double metal door to let you in.’
‘But it’s coming down in buckets!’ I said. And it was. Even with the windshield wipers on at full tilt I could barely see out the windows for all the water washing over the car. ‘Can’t I go with you? I don’t have a coat or an umbrella, so at least that way I can stay dry.’
‘I can’t have you come in through the main entrance. Security wouldn’t let you in.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because this isn’t a dance or an afternoon tea, remember? And I don’t have an authorization to allow a male to enter the Grimsley campus.’
‘Why wouldn’t you get approval ahead of time?’
‘First, don’t start questioning me. You seem to keep forgetting who’s in charge here. That’s a guaranteed way to feel pain.’
She turned more towards me, reached her left over my lap and cupped my balls. I flinched a little, but she didn’t squeeze them. In later years, I figured out that she’d mastered one of the skills of the medieval Spanish Inquisition: the memory of past pain and the fear of future pain are usually sufficient by themselves to induce confession (or compliance), without the need to actually inflict pain in the present. It also had the benefit of keeping the subject alive to potentially provide more information.
‘But just to answer your question,’ she continued, ‘you might lack sufficient dramatic skill to take the part in the play, or you might otherwise not be right for the part. I don’t think that will happen, but I don’t want to go through the bureaucratic rigmarole and use up all my
political capital with the headmistress for the wrong boy. I may need it later.’
‘Okay. But can’t I wait by some other back door that’s has a little more shelter, so I’m not so exposed to the rain?’
‘There are a few back entrances, but you have to use this one. The security desk has closed circuit TVs to monitor the entire outside of the building. But this door is a blind spot, the only back entrance that isn’t covered by the closed circuit TVs. If you go to any other door, those lady security guards will be down on you like wolves. I would deny any knowledge of how you got here, except maybe that you hid in the back seat of my car, or what your intentions were. In fact, I would tell them that those intentions were certainly not honorable. If you think I’ve been rought on these,’ and here she gave my nuts a light squeeze to emphasize her point, ‘God only what Grimsley’s lady gestapo would do to you.’
I was still worried about a mishap, even if I did follow her instructions implicitly. ‘But how do you know that this spot can’t be seen? What if they do see me?’
‘Because I use this spot myself when I meet with one of the security guards.’
It took me a few seconds to figure that one out. I eventually realized that this was a trysting spot for her and another woman.
‘That’s enough Q-and-A. Get out.’
I frowned, but what else could I do but follow her instructions. You couldn’t walk home from Grimsley, and with this rain it would be suicidal. So I opened the car door and stepped out, right into the teeth of the storm.
This wasn’t the first time I’d been caught out in the rain, but on that day the weather was so bad that opening the car door and moving my butt out of that warm, dry seat and into that cold, wet storm was one of the worst weather experiences I can remember. It felt like I’d opened the door of some huge washing machine in the middle of the rinse cycle and crawled inside, locking myself in. And it was a cold water wash. In early October in upstate New York, a day can start out warm, but then the temperature drops when a cold front moves in, and it felt like it had dropped fifteen degrees since we left East Point. In mere seconds I was soaked to the skin. I was so stunned by the cold, wet suddenness of the rain that I made the big mistake of standing still after I closed the car door. Miss Frobisher pulled away with her customary speed, which made her wheels spin out in the mud. I didn’t feel anything at first, but then I looked down at my uniform pants. They were brown and black with mud and old road tar. This was bad. I could see mildew in the future and knew I’d have to buy a new uniform. I stood there shivering and started trotting over the few remaining yards to the door. I started turning over and over in my mind how stupid I was for agreeing to do this, even if it was another chance to see Michelle in the flesh. The more I thought about Michelle, the less I watched where I was walking. That’s when disaster struck.
I didn’t see the concrete parking stop-block in my way, one of those big things that lies on the ground about five or six feet long and maybe half a foot tall. It wasn’t painted yellow. I tripped and fell right over it. Directly on the other side of the stop-block was what looked like a puddle but turned out to be much deeper. Instinctively, I put my hands out in front of me to break my fall, but they didn’t touch any ground beneath the water’s surface. Rather, my hands kept on going, down and down, until my entire upper body was completely immersed in what must have been a few feet of stinking, oily, brown water. I’d a found a trench. I was so surprised that I barely closed my mouth and stopped breathing in time to avoid drowning. I managed to get to my feet again, coughing and spitting out the filthy stuff.
When I was back on my feet, I looked down at myself. I was an absolute mud-covered mess, and a wet and freezing one to boot. I finally made it to the double metal door and waited for Miss Frobisher to open it.
I waited.
And waited.
Maybe the time seemed to drag on because I felt so miserable and cold. I wondered if she’d forgotten me. Shit. No, not possible.
After what seemed like a half hour, but was probably more like ten minutes, the door finally opened and Miss Frobisher appeared in front of me. She gasped when she saw me.
‘What the hell happened to you?’ she asked, as she pulled me into the warm, dry building.
‘I tripped into a big pit filled with water.’
‘You look a fright! And you’re shivering! Quick, come with me.’
She led me inside and up a short flight of stairs. I looked above me and could see some metal catwalks that told me we were somewhere backstage in the Grimsley Hall auditorium.
No sooner had we stopped back stage than a door at stage right opened. I heard the sound of a lot of feet, and heel clicks in particular, undoubtedly feminine heels. Soon, right behind Ms. F_ there appeared about a dozen or so Grimsley girls, all of whose mouths dropped in mixed expressions of surprise and pity as they saw me shivering so hard that my head was bobbing up and down.
Miss Frobisher had not been kidding about the ‘inside’ uniform of the Grimsley girls. All of their plaid, pleated skirts, which were already on the short and tight side, were hiked up well above mid-thigh, almost to crotch level. If I ever got dry and stopped shaking I was sure I would get an unobstructed panty shot if any one of them had to bend over to pick something up. Sailor Moon city, for sure. Above the pleated skirts, all the girls wore a white collared shirt, much like a man’s shirt, together with a tie, knotted in the same way a man’s tie would be – in fact, exactly the same way, Henry noticed – and a blue Grimsley blazer with the school’s symbol emblazoned on the left breast. It was a strange symbol. The top part was a female symbol, the usual circle with an inverted cross at the bottom, but that was superimposed on the usual male symbol, a circle with a little arrow sticking out of the right side. But instead of sticking straight up at an angle, the male arrow drooped downward, somewhat like a limp dick, and it was set against a background of a lock and key. I would soon find out what those symbols meant.
All of the girls were my age or a year younger, and, as usual with the Grimsley girls, every one of them was stunningly beautiful, so much so that it was intimidating. There were some new faces there, ones I could not recall seeing at any of the teas or dances. But if I had seen them I know I would have been too afraid to approach them. They were just out of my league, looks-wise.
Then a second group of about eight or nine girls came in. Each of them was dressed in what were obviously stage costumes. They looked like pirate outfits to me, since every one of them was wearing leather boots that reached all the way to mid-thigh, together with different kinds of tops, and most of them were wearing fake beards or moustaches. Some had a sort of short jacket with braids and epaulets on, like something from a war movie with old-fashioned sailing ships. Others had tight, tight leggings on, while their tops were more loose-fitting, like pirate shirts, and these were open from the neck down to the navel, almost, which was really quite revealing. Every girl in the second group was just as beautiful as the ones in the first, and I was looking forward to getting to know them.
I did not see Alicia in either group of girls, though. If she were there, I’m sure she would have said hello in some way or other. But there was Regan, the tallest of the girls, who was a head taller than me. I had to look up a little when I talked to her. Being tallest, she was also the leggiest, and because of that her plaid school skirt looked the shortest. She smiled at me and looked me up and down, like some prize bull at a cattle fair. I recognized the ever-snooty Genevieve, or ZZZehn-eh-vee-ev, who was in one of the pirate costumes and wearing a
fake beard. Then I recognized Michelle, who smiled at me and nodded. Maybe she did like me, after all. Maybe there was a chance she’d be my girlfriend. Then Miss F_ broke my reverie.
‘We have to get you out of those wet things right away,’ she said. ‘Start peeling.’
Miss Frobisher’s words didn’t quite register with me at first. Then they did. I couldn’t quite believe what she had just said. Did she just tell me that she wanted me to give her my clothes? To take my clothes off? Right there? Surrounded by twenty or so fully-dressed, sexy, beautiful Grimsley girls, each of whom was worth at least ten masturbatory fantasies? She did not leave me in doubt much longer.
‘Henry, remember our deal. Give me your clothes right away. Now.’
‘Here?’ I asked.
‘What? Of course, here. Right now.’
I lowered my voice in a futile effort to speak just to her. ‘But I can’t do this here,’ I pleaded. ‘Not in front of everyone! Please!’ I must have sounded like a world-class cry-baby.
‘Listen to me, Henry,’ she said. ‘First off, as I told you before, actors in theater have to change frequently from one costume to another, meaning that there will be a lot of undressed people backstage, maybe even naked people. You have to get comfortable with that, and with your own body for that matter.’
She obviously didn’t know how uncomfortable I was with my own body. I couldn’t believe this! Here I was being ordered to strip down in front of twenty hot high school girls, many of whom I knew. I leaned in close to Miss F, and put up one of my hands to whisper in her ear: ‘Please don’t make me do this here! They’ll see m-m-m-my…my thing…you know!’
I got no sympathy from Ms. F_. She put her hands on her hips in a demanding pose and said: ‘Henry Watson. Are you going to take your clothes off yourself, or am I going to have to order the girls to do it for you? I’m sure it will be a new experience for them, doing a boy-stripping party.’
I started to unbutton my uniform jacket, and when it was fully opened I took it off and set it on the floor.
‘Michelle! Come up here and take Henry’s clothes as he removes them,’ Miss F_ ordered.
Shit, shit, shit. Why did she have to order Michelle to do it, of all the girls there? Luck was not with me that afternoon.
Michelle came up and picked my jacket up. Some drops fell from it still, making a small puddle on the floor. Then I unbuttoned and took off my shirt and gave it to her. Next, I took off my undershirt, so I was standing there shirtless. I looked up at the girls, and my heart sank. Every one of them was staring at me, wearing little devilish grins and enjoying the show I was about to put on.
I took off my shoes and socks next, and then went for my belt and unbuttoned my pants. Turning as red as a hot coal, I took my pants down, stepped out of them, and handed them to Michelle without so much as lifting my eyes to look at her. And there I stood, in my waterlogged tighty-whiteys in front of all these girls. Some titters broke out, though I could tell the laughing girls were trying to stifle their laughter.
‘Henry,’ Ms. F_ said, ‘those too.’
‘What!?! Oh no, please Miss Frobisher!’ But she wasn’t having any of it. She gave a nod, and suddenly two of the pirate girls rushed up, each one grabbing one of my arms and almost knocking me backwards. Then two more pirate girls knelt down in front of me, hooked their fingers in either side of the elastic in my briefs and pulled them all the way down, past my ankles, and completely off. I was buck naked.
They let me go, and as soon as my arms were free I covered my crotch. I had never been so humiliated in my life, stripped naked by a gang of beautiful girls my own age, deprived of my last shred of clothing and dignity. At least no one other than the pirate girls had seen me. But that didn’t last long.
‘Oh my god!! Did you see that?’ said one of the pirate girls.
Maddy
- 19.12.2022
- 25
- 0
