Bad Day for UKIP

Chelsea Ladies' College
OUR VISION

To embody excellence, independence, inspiration and empowerment in the education of women.

Motto: Cœlesti Luce Crescat (May she grow in Heavenly light)

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Margaret, named after her father's favourite Prime Minister, and Winifred, tragically and tenuously named after her father's favourite Prime Minister, understandably preferred to be called Maggie and Winnie. It wasn't much better really but, well, an improvement. They had been very sure to make this clear to their new classmates and teachers when their respective fathers decided to take them from their schools and send them to one of the most exclusive independent girls colleges in England. The fees were not cheap, far from it: £13,000 a term so the best part of £40,000 a year. However, their fathers could afford it and had very good reasons. Both were lavishly wealthy and hopeful of becoming even more so as they eyed up the opportunities of a Brexit economy - a Brexit they had enthusiastically supported and celebrated with delight two years ago. It may well be worse for many businesses, but they were well-positioned to take FULL advantage.

And the reasons for moving their daughters from their more local school in London? Well, Brexit may have been decided but in their not even slightly humble opinions it still wasn't coming fast enough. They might live in an exclusive area of London in properties worth millions but the city was a foreign country, filled with the scum that they were working so hard to get rid of. Now they had got rid of those bloody Europeans telling them what to do and what not to do, they could start getting rid of all the rest of them and make England English and, in muttered undertones after a few too many glasses of champagne or whisky, white again. However, that wouldn't come overnight and for now, far better to have their precious daughters kept away from it all and safe and sound.

The two friends settled into their new environment very well. Yes, there were a few difficulties in the first term or so but isn't there always. One of them had been their seeming inability to get along with the other nationalities for it had never occurred to their fathers that such a renowned school would appeal to a global market. Girls came here from all over the world, daughters of diplomats and ambassadors, business giants of Asia, executives posted to London offices, heads of British companies which had been sold overseas, oil executives of South America and the Gulf, and indeed many whose wealth came from more murky origins. A global elite cocooned from the world and who didn't agree in any way with Maggie and Winnie's belief that superiority came from their English roots (probably as murky as some of the aforementioned wealth).

So there had been 'difficulty' and that had resulted in some fights and some...well, words that Maggie and Winnie had learned from their fathers. Words which had no place here and which could not be ignored and for which they must be punished. They were fortunate, however, because their housemistress, Mme Beauchemin, who also headed the Modern Languages department, decided to take them under her wing. The punishment took place over the course of three or four weeks beginning with spankings which the two girls, rightly as it turned out, suspected were probably illegal. Lines as well, written in detention as they sat naked in a classroom envying the rest of the student body enjoying the early summer weather, while the two students’ bodies hunched nude over desks writing over and over that “I am not superior. I am a rude stupid bratty whore.” Assigned tasks which seemed designed explicitly to demean them and squash their pride such as serving other students in almost fancy dress sexualised versions of the kitchen staff uniform during meal times, forbidden from eating until everyone else had finished and the dining hall was emptied except the humiliated pair taking their seats to eat alone. Mme Beauchemin didn’t just seek to punish and humiliate them, however. She truly wanted them to learn that the influence of their fathers was so wrong-headed, that the world had moved on from the innate prejudices and discrimination. She rewarded them too. At first, the friends had not seen it as a reward but after time they became so keen to scurry under the teacher’s desk and squeeze against each other between her legs and kiss and caress and lick and listen to their lessons till their tongues were lapping up the juices gushing from folds. The teacher was proud of how well her pupils had learned. Although there may not be much actual light under her desk the now willing and compliant friends exemplified the school’s motto. Cœlesti Luce Crescat – May they grow in heavenly light. These angels certainly felt heavenly with their oral devotion and no one could doubt how they were growing.

What they were growing into did come as a slight surprise to the teacher whose plan was simply to show them the importance of respect for others, not judging according to race or religion or difference, approaching people with an open attitude. Perhaps she had been a little too successful because Maggie and Winnie were extremely open these days, almost to excess, respectful to the point of bending over to please others and concur with their wishes. Their classmates noted the change in Winnie and Maggie and started taking little liberties…a stroke of an exposed inner thigh in the corridor, a wandering hand under the back of a skirt in the dining room, comments on their sweet bodies in the communal showers after sports – comments which after a while were accompanied by caresses and pokes and gentle pinches. And the two friends accepted all this without complaint, an openness in attitude both mental and physical, succumbing bit by bit till the two superior young ladies became, for want of better words, slutty toys for the other students. Far from accepting the fact that they were equals with their new schoolfriends, they seemed to go completely the other way and reject the notion of their equality and saw themselves as below the others – neither of them wanted to be on a level playing field. They wanted to be on their knees and looking up. Mme Beauchemin had taken a couple of bratty, snooty, racist, rich bitches and accidentally found a rather sweet pair of submissives. It even reached the stage that the nature of Maggie and Winnie’s friendship changed. Their shared room was visited so often in the night now; whenever a fellow student wanted a little fun they would come to find one of the now eager to please girls and either take her back to her own room or just use them in the room in front of the other. Sometimes, have both please her at the same time like the time one had stood in the doorway and beckoned for Maggie to please her pussy and Winnie to kiss her tight little hole until the two working together brought the climax and the wetness to Maggie’s face. After their visitors left or on the nights when no one came for them, the two friends found that their journey down had changed the way they saw each other. Friends still but no longer united in their bigotry, instead, seeing one another with their new status as willing subbie sluts and embracing each other as such while they embraced one another and their new roles and helped each other to their physical pleasure, pressing their bodies together till they shuddered with release and fell asleep in a tangle of legs and arms and touching lips and hot breaths on whichever narrow single bed they had chosen for the night.

It was time for them to apologise, Mme decided and that is why they were now waiting for the two students who were the target of the now soundly rebuked and guilty feeling girls’ insults. Mme Beauchemin gave Maggie a final slap on the arse and tumbled her off her lap at the knock on the door. Standing and taking the books from Winnie’s head with a curt “Well done,” for not dropping it while her friend was teasing her clit with her now so talented tongue. “Come in!”

In came the two other girls, dark-haired, dark-skinned, dark-eyed Deepanwita from India, and blonde-haired, blue-eyed, pale-skinned Johanna from Germany. Despite their physical differences both the Indian and the German shared two things; a sparkle in their eyes at seeing these two English bitches standing almost naked apart from socks and shoes while they stood in college uniform; blatant smirks on both their faces knowing what would come next. Of course, they had heard about and seen the transformation in the two now blushing women in front of them. How they were now more or less the school sluts ready for anyone, but neither wanted to avail themselves of their attempted tormentors. They wanted to hear the word sorry first. The watching teacher coughed and Winnie started first, the words coming from her including so many times sorry to Johanna, barely able to keep eye contact with the German. Then Maggie’s turn, begging for forgiveness from Deepanwita, saying how wrong she had been, how she knew better now, that she would never use such awful words again. As they were listened to, something became obvious to their small audience – the profuse apologies were completely sincere, not forced at all, spoken from the heart. The girls blushed not from embarrassment at their nakedness but from shame that they had ever said and done and thought those things, their regret at their previous selves absolute. Mme Beauchemin was proud of them and indeed herself. Now with that slight French accent in her words she spoke again. “Good girls. Now, actions speak louder than words.”

Maggie and Winnie understood immediately and dropped to hands and knees and crawled to Deepanwita and Johanna and soon were sealing their apologies and made their requests for exoneration with kisses and lips while they were looked down on by their victors. Mme spoke again, informing the triumphant Deepanwita and Johanna, “When you are finished take them back to your rooms. They will be your new roommates from now.”

Three months later

Johanna and Winnie

Johanna relaxed her thighs and lifted off the now pussy soaked face of Winnie, who mingled licking her lips with gasps for air. The blonde slapped at the hand which was moving between Winnie’s thighs. “That’s enough of that, my little fucktoy. Give me a moment and I’ll fill that dripping cunt for you. Get my strapon.” Winnie scampered to the chest of draws and soon was back with the arrangement of straps and buckles and the long thick shaft she now spent so much time taking inside herself. Her Mistress took it and rose from the bed, stepping into it and pulling up her legs till it was snug against her sex and fastened around hips and thighs while her so-called fucktoy watched with desire and bit her lip. “Don’t just stand there and watch, you silly sweet bitch! All fours.” Winnie laughed and kissed Johanna on the cheek before hurrying into position on the bed, back arched in a curve down from her shoulders and then up to her bottom postured up in the air, knees far apart to show off glistening pussy. It was a sight Johanna would never tire of and never cease to love. She positioned herself behind her waiting slut and nudged the head of the toy into the folds. She was smiling as she placed her hands on Winnie’s hips. “Do you remember what you called me, Winnie bitch?” A groan in response caused by the anticipation of the tip being followed by the full length of the plastic ‘cock’. Winnie was used to the teasing before the action, how funny her German lover found it to bring back that memory.

“Yes. I called you a fat kraut, Miss.”

Johanna laughed now. “So what does that make you, my little English whore?”

“It makes me a fat kraut’s slut and whore and bitch and pet and toy, Miss.” Winnie knew the correct response off by heart now and it thrilled her as much as it did Johanna.

“That’s right. You sweet slut…” Pulling Winnie hard back onto her, the entire length disappearing inside and accompanied by a satisfied groan from the girl on hands and knees, pulling her hips back and the wettened plastic almost all out, “And whore…” Burying again deep inside then pulling back again, “And pet…” The slapping sound of Johanna’s thighs meeting Winnie’s then pulling out almost all the way, “And toy! Now fuck yourself on this sausage that you love so very much.” A final grunt as Johanna plunged into her cunt again and then Winnie moving her body back and forth, breasts swaying under her, stretched lips sliding up and down the shaft as she worked up to her climax.

Winnie’s father hadn’t been happy when he heard his daughter was now sharing with a German woman. Germans – worse than the bloody French even. It was to put a stop to their plans that he had decided to throw his support so completely behind Brexit. He was damned if he was going to sit around while that lot tried to take over Europe again. No, not him. He’d fight just like Churchill had. Obviously, he wrote to the school and demanded Winnie’s room be changed, even threatened to withdraw her from the school. Reluctantly, he finally changed his mind when his princess begged him not to make a fuss. She was happy sharing with Johanna, they were such good friends. When he heard that Johanna’s divorced mother also held a senior position at the German Embassy in London, he could see there might be some potential for business contacts. He might not like them but he was happy to take their money even if it was euros.

What he didn’t realise is that he might have won the referendum but he had already lost. Conflict between the two became lust and submission but it didn’t stop there. Winnie had fallen to her knees for her former enemy and then, quite by surprise, she fell in love. Love for Johanna, love for her Miss, love for being her slut. And, also to Johanna’s surprise, she fell in love with this sweet, obedient, English bitch. Winnie may be a little whore now but she was Johanna’s whore and while she was still used by…well, anyone who wanted to basically, Johanna had no intention of letting her go. When they weren’t fucking or studying they made plans for the future. Winnie had already applied to and been accepted to the same prestigious German university as Johanna was going to attend. She had even been introduced to Johanna’s mother on a trip into London who had felt nothing but happiness at seeing her daughter so happily in love and given her blessing whilst encouraging them to calm down a little – they were a little young to be talking about marriage after all. The lovers didn’t bother to visit Winnie’s father. They didn’t even tell him they were in the city.

Deepanwita and Maggie

Deepanwita lay on the bed reading through her textbook and making notes, her skirt, panties, shoes, and socks scattered across the floor. A naked Maggie kissed her way slowly over the sole of the Indian woman’s foot, then the heel and along her calves to the hollow of her knees. She would devotedly kiss all the way up the long, elegant dark golden legs, indeed she would kiss anywhere she was commanded to by her Owner. This relationship was very different: Maggie worshipped, and adored and loved her Mistress but it was unrequited love. Deepanwita did not love Maggie – she simply enjoyed her as she would a massage at the spa or an expensive meal. Theirs was a relationship of slave and Owner, Maggie reduced to serving her Indian Goddess in any way she could, expecting nothing in return but the privilege of doing so again. Deepanwita didn’t care if Winnie got pleasure from her service – it simply didn’t concern her and it would never have occurred to reciprocate after her bitch brought her to climax. If her property wanted to come she could do it in the darkness after Deepanwita had fallen asleep or creep out and find some other whore to help her. Just as long as Maggie was always there when her Mistress had need of her again.

You may wonder how Maggie felt about this. Being reduced to her Indian Mistress’ thing for pleasure. Did she feel humiliated? Frustrated? Was she close to throwing off her servitude? Yes, humiliated and yes, frustrated but the two combined inside her and as she lay on the floor in the darkness, hearing the breathing of her Goddess sleeping, masturbating, biting on her hand to keep from disturbing her, the most wonderful orgasm would wash through her and she would shake and curl her body and tremble till sleep found her. Maggie needed her Goddess, needed to worship and please her and so she did.

And Maggie learned so much. From the stupidity of the generic insult for all South Asians her father’s use had taught her and was taken from an entirely different country to Deepanwita’s to the actual meaning of Deepanwita’s name – Goddess, which was the name that Maggie agreed fitted so well, and Kali. Learned about the nature of the Hindu namesake, her fury which Winnie had experienced so often with beatings until she learned how to placate her Owner. Learned new words. Words to describe the English girl which made her heart beat faster and her tummy flip and her cunt grow wet. Raand. Kutiya. Gulaam. Whore. Bitch. Slave. Words to tell her where to worship. Choot for cunt, gaand for tight dark arsehole, happy to push her tongue deep into both. Maggie was broken completely and she wanted it no other way.

As for Deepanwita. No, she didn’t love this whore but yes, she enjoyed this whore, her kutiya. In truth, she wasn’t even especially attracted to women and her parents had already arranged for marriage to a man from an excellent family matching the status of her own. She considered their selection and both families were overjoyed when she accepted the proposed marriage. He was a fine man and would make a good and suitable husband. This was Deepanwita’s focus now, looking forward to the holiday when the two families would gather and officially announce the engagement. Maggie wept when she heard the news, on the floor and begging between kisses of her Owner’s feet. Looking down at her Deepanwita took after her namesake in another way. She shared the furious temper but also admitted to herself that the white woman at her feet was a good raand, realised that she would miss her when they finally finished at this school, and that the bitch did please her. Crouching down and caressing the blonde hair as kisses and tears fell on her feet. “I will ask my husband to be. Tell him about my slave. See if he wishes to have you in our home. You understand that you will be mine but if he wants, then he will take what he wants from you. Fuck your choot, fuck your gaand. Have you worship his lund. Maybe even we will make you our breeding slut and you can carry our babies and preserve your Goddess’ body, and feed them with your milk filled udders. Be our breeding cow.” Maggie lifted her head and looked up into those dark eyes, her own red from the tears. “Anything. Anything for my Goddess. You own me. Please just keep me.”

Maggie’s father's reaction to the news that she had a new roommate could not have been more different than that of Winnie’s father. He recognised the surname. How could he not have? It was a name that appeared on buildings and ships and as a multinational corporation on the paperwork of a staggering array of subsidiaries around the world involved in electronics, engineering, vehicle manufacturing, steel firms, media. Maggie’s father may well have been a regular on The Sunday Times rich list but he was a big fish in a small pond. Deepanwita’s father’s name and picture, on the other hand, appeared on the cover of Forbes magazine the previous year. He was a shark in the ocean. For Maggie’s father, the colour of money was far more important than the colour of Maggie’s new friend’s skin.

The next day

The respective fathers put on their respective dressing gowns and went down the respective grand staircases of their respective mansions and sat at their respective dining tables in their respective dining rooms and their respective servants served their respective breakfasts and turned their respective attention to their respective mail in small respective piles.

And they groaned as they saw the stamped letter from the school. Letters from the school meant an invoice or fees or requests and neither enjoyed handing over money. It was notice of a school trip in the coming holidays to – and this made them almost spit out their tea – Brussels and specifically to the EU. Both men were ready to say no. The referendum had taken place four years ago, this tear the country had finally left. When would these bureaucrats get the message? The accompanying letter mollified the men slightly, explaining that the girls would be part of the British negotiating team just helping out and taking advantage of this wonderful opportunity to improve their negotiating skill and encourage their interest in politics. That wasn’t quite so bad but the answer was still no. At that moment both of their mobile phones rang. Messages from their daughters which were remarkably similar not that they could compare.

Hello Daddy

Can I please, please go on the school trip this year?

Maggie/Winnie is going. It’ll be such fun!!!!!

Love you so much, Daddy.

They shook their heads in resignation. It was so difficult to say no to their daughters…so they said yes in their heads. Perhaps they would see how useless these Europeans are.

Mme Beauchemin put down the girls’ phones and looked over her desk at Maggie and Winnie happily entwined in a 69 on the carpet, licking away enthusiastically. The friends didn’t spend as much time together as before now that their living arrangements had changed so they rushed to each other when Mme requested their company from Johanna and Deepenwita and they answered the summons. The two really were so delightful and she knew they would be ever so popular in Brussels and they really would learn so much and then every little thing they learned they would spill to the EU negotiating team. Johanna was also going to the negotiations so Winnie would be her good little spy in the day and in the evening and at night would spend her time in her Mistress lover’s bed and on her lap and at her feet and on her fake cock. And then Johanna would pass all that on to her mother. Meanwhile, Maggie would of course miss her Goddess but she would be far too busy being a little whore and spy for the French delegation. Using her charms to see what titbits she could pick up from the British and then reporting everything back when her sweet, trained mouth wasn’t busy. Mme Beauchemin had obviously checked with Deepenwita but the girl had barely even cared. “Oh yes. Do what you want with the slut! In fact, do me a favour. Get her to practise her cock sucking. She may be doing a lot of it soon.” The Indian had an engagement party and a wedding to arrange and a little persuasion and negotiation of her own to do.

Mme smiled as the two English girls cried out their climaxes, one soon following the other. Yes, it was going to be quite a break.

The End