The Initiation Of Hermione Barraclough

Chapter 1.

It was a week short of Hermione’s nineteenth birthday, and her friends, Chantelle, Coralline and Georgianna, were planning a surprise.  Hermione had had a bit of a disagreement with her mother over her party.  Her birthday was on the Saturday, but she had demanded to take her friends out clubbing that night, spoiling her mother’s plans for a family gathering.  She had sworn at her poor mother in front of her friends, and reduced her to tears, then stormed out of the house leaving the other three to comfort her.

“She can be so horrible, sometimes,” sobbed Mrs Barraclough.  “I know you’re all grown up now, but I just thought it would be nice…”

“She can be a bitch, all right” murmured Coralline.

“I was thinking of inviting her cousins, and Malcolm wanted to invite his friends from Scouts – they’re all in love with her, you know – and we were going to have lots of food and cakes and everything, and I was hoping she’d wear that nice blue dress I bought her for her last birthday….”

Her cousins were two boys about her own age, and Malcolm was her step-brother, less than a year younger than her, who was not averse to using his pretty sister to increase his own circle of friends.

“Never mind, Mrs Barraclough…Debbie.  But you know how she likes to pretend to be so grown up.  That’s why she wanted to go out with us.”

“Oh, I know, don’t you worry.  She refuses to wear a dress now.  Or anything I suggest.  It has to be something really “cool” or sexy.  I wouldn’t mind, but she’s so rude to me, and she ignores Malcolm a lot of the time.  We’re her family, for goodness’ sake.  The only one she’s got.”

Things only got worse over the next couple of days.  When Hermione returned home, she let fly as soon as she got in the door.

“And don’t you start again, mother!  It’s my fucking life now, and I’ll do just as I please!  I’m not colluding in your little kid’s party plans with the cousins and Malcolm’s snotty little friends and the cakes and jellies and balloons and fuck knows what else!  So keep your nose out of it!”

Her mother was aghast.  “You rude, rude girl!  If you were a few years younger I’d put you over my knee and spank your bottom!  How can you say such things?”

“Oh, sod off and leave me alone!”  With which remark she stomped off to her room at the back of the house and slammed the door.

The Barracloughs lived in a rather posh bungalow on a private estate.  Debbie Barraclough had had a good payoff when she divorced her husband.  There was a hint of snobbishness in her character, and her daughter had come to believe she was one of nature’s privileged few - well-off, good-looking and intelligent.  She demanded the best of everything, ignored her mother, and gave herself airs.  Her friends tolerated her haughtiness without approving it.  The four of them had been together since they started in secondary school, and now they were in the final year of the sixth form.  They were not going to give up on her easily, but all three knew she needed some sort of lesson, without ever having articulated the fact.

Chapter 2.

But that was not all they knew about Hermione.  The three girls had regular, if not steady, boyfriends, but until recently Hermione’s relationships had remained something of a mystery.  She had had many of them, but none lasted very long.  So they started doing a bit of investigating.  When, a few weeks earlier, Chantelle started going out with Gregory, one of Hermione’s exes, she used her sexual wiles slowly to extract the information she wanted.  Well, maybe not slowly.  Gregory was a talker once you got him going, and he spilled the beans without too much coercion.  She had lured him back to her flat.

“So, I suppose you had much more fun with Hermione, didn’t you?” she remarked, as she sat astride him gently riding him into a state of sexual ecstasy.  She was an expert horsewoman, and new just what she was about.  Each time she rose in the saddle, as it were, she used the muscles of her pussy to squeeze his penis, milking him like a cow.  Under that sort of treatment, it  wasn’t long before the words began to flow.

“Ah, Chan…oh!  Please…oh god…Hermione…she’s...ooh!...weird…ah…”

“Weird?  How “weird”?”

“Stop a minute, please, or I’m gonna cum, and I don’t want to, not yet.”

“Okay.  I’m sitting still.  Now tell me.  Come on.  If you don’t want me to dismount and make the coffee right now.”

“Okay, okay.  Don’t go anywhere.”  He puffed for a few seconds, getting his breath back.  “Yeah, well, see, the thing with her is…how can I put it?  She’s terribly…sort of fastidious.  Yeah, that’s the word.  Fastidious.  So, like, before she starts she has to take off all her clothes and hang them up, well away from where the actions gonna be.  And then – you won’t believe this – then, she produces these surgical gloves, little tight transparent latex gloves, and sort of manipulates it till it’s nice and stiff and to her satisfaction, then she rolls on the condom – she brings were own, big long ones with tight necks so they go right up over your balls and won’t come off.”

“You serious?”

“Totally.  Only then are you allowed to fuck.  And get this.  When you’re done, on goes the gloves again, she takes off the condom, ties it off with this expression on her face, like sort of distaste, and dumps it in a plastic bag.  Then before you can cuddle or anything, out comes the baby wipes and she cleans every drop of sperm off your prick, then dumps them and her gloves in the plastic bag and puts it in the bin.  She holds it at arms-length, and I swear once I heard her mutter, “disgusting”, as she did it!”

“What?  Is she allergic to semen or something?”

“Something like that.  Cos, blow-jobs?  Never had one off her.  She told me from the first, she doesn’t do ‘em!”

“Wow, Greg!  That’s so…interesting!  I had no idea!”

“Don’t tell ‘er I told you, will you?”

“No, no, course not.”

“I think it’s cos she fancies herself as sort of superior, you know, sort of pure and chaste, beautiful and sophisticated at the same time.  A sort of princess.  I mean, she likes sex but only in a sort of sanitised way.  I think she’s disgusted by the very idea of sperm, and if she ever actually got a drop on her clothes, I think she’d be horrified!  She’d probably have to burn the lot!”

“She wasn’t much fun, then?”

“Not much, no, to be honest.”

Chantelle had registered Gregory wilting a little during this revelation, so she thought it time to restore his enthusiasm.  She began thrusting gently with her hips till his penis began to fill and lengthen inside her.

“Ahh, Gregory,” she sighed, “you know you don’t have that problem with me, don’t you?  After I’ve squeezed out half your spunk with my pussy, my mouth is going to drain the rest…”

“Oh, god…Chantelle….”

Chapter 3.

After Gregory had finally passed out, Chantelle sat for some time musing on what she had found out.  She was eager to share her discovery with her friends, but she was going to save it for the pub the next day.  She smiled as she picked up her clothes and the four condoms Gregory had been induced to fill and headed for the shower. 

When the next day she related what Gregory had divulged, Coralline and Georgianna were gobsmacked.  They stared at her open-mouthed but speechless.  Georgianna was the first to speak.

“Whoa, Chantie, if that’s really true…”

“It is.  Greg wasn’t in any state to tell me lies.”

“It explains a lot,” said Coralline.  “All those short relationships…”

“Yes.  She really needs to lose those inhibitions,” continued Georgianna, “otherwise she’s never gonna have a proper boyfriend.  But all the same…”   She giggled.  “I mean, you have to admit, it’s sort of funny, isn’t it?  Makes sense though.  She just as picky about who she dates in the first place…”

“About everything,” added Chantelle.  “She thinks she’s posh, and a little bit better than everybody else.”

“Yeah, it’s true.  Once she told me she’d really like to have a maid…”

“True Georgie?” gasped Coralline.  “What a pretentious cow…”

“Yes, she hates getting her own hands dirty,” said Georgianna.

“Or sticky,” smiled Chantelle.  She lowered her voice.  “Look, girls, I’ve been developing an idea since I was with Gregory.  I’d like you to tell me what you think…”

Chapter 4.

In the weeks that followed, running up to Hermione’s birthday, the three girls behaved as if they had a mission.  As Hermione saw it, that mission included sleeping with as many blokes as they could, and as frequently as they could.  The truth was rather stranger.  They were seeing a lot of their male contemporaries, but, (except in a few special cases like Chantelle and Gregory), they were not having sex with them.  And the fact they were mainly Hermione’s ex-partners of course made her distaste all the more acute.

“Frankly, girls, I find your behaviour slightly disgusting,” she sneered.  “It’s not the sort of behaviour you would ever catch me partaking in.  I like to select my men a little more carefully.”

“So we’ve heard,” laughed Georgianna.  “Very selective, you are.”

“Meaning what?” said Hermione, bridling up.

“Oh, nothing.  Come on Hermione, don’t blame us.  We’re just going through a sexy phase, that’s all,” smiled Chantelle, propitiatingly.  “Look, I’ve got an idea.  Let’s all get together at yours next Friday after school.  We’ve got a few things we’d like to show you.”

“Really?  What?”

“Oh, we can’t say, silly,” grinned Coralline.  “Could just possibly be something to do with…the next day?  Right?”

“Oh, okay.”  Hermione couldn’t disguise a faint self-satisfied smile.  They’d got her a present, and they wanted to give it to her at home.  Fair enough.  “I’m getting a makeover and hairdo at five, though, so I won’t be back till six.  Mum and Malcolm are out all the evening, but if you want to go round straight from school you’ve got a key.”

“Perfect!” cried Chantelle

The next step in their plan involved Mrs Barraclough.  Chantelle approached her on the Monday.

“Debbie?  Do you have a moment?”

“Of course, Chantelle dear.”

“It’s about Hermione’s birthday.”

“Oh, that.”

“Yes, well, I know she was horrible about the idea of a party and everything, but I think inside she’d really like it.  I think if you surprised her, she’d just melt…”

“Really?  Do you really think so?”

“I’m almost certain.  She said something to us about that blue dress.  Said it’s actually the only glamorous low-cut dress she has.  She sounded quite nostalgic…”

“Goodness.  Maybe I listen too much to the words, and not enough to the spirit.  I mean, she was such a sweet little girl when she was younger.”

“She’s still sweet underneath all that bravado.  Look, I heard you’re going to be out on the Friday evening, and I know she’s planning a little get-together at the house with a few of the boys she likes.  I even think she going to wear the dress, and have balloons and cakes and stuff.  It’s just a suggestion, but you could spring a little surprise on her with the cousins and the boys…”

“Do you really think so?  I can cancel my night out easily.”

“It’s just a thought.  You may be pleasantly surprised.”

“What time will she be there?”

“I think they’re starting about seven.  If you all arrived, say, at eight…?”

“We’ll do it Chantelle!  Thank you so much!  What about you and the girls?  Will you be able to make it?”

“Oh, yes, absolutely!  We wouldn’t miss it for the world.  We’ll meet you outside at eight, shall we?”

“Perfect, darling!”

Chapter 5.

It was Friday evening.  The girls had let themselves into the house, made their way to Hermione’s room, and were getting things ready.  In the middle of the room Coralline and Georgianna were setting up a child’s paddling pool – a round one with inflatable base and sides and six aluminium supports to keep the sides firm.  It was pale blue with yellow fishes and red starfishes all over it.  Chantelle had found Hermione’s blue taffeta party dress and had laid it on the bed.  It would have looked all right on a twelve year old – short puffy sleeves with lace frills, and a short bouncy skirt lined with crinolines.  No-one their age would have been seen dead in it.  On the chest was a stripy pink box with a big red ribbon around it.  Once the pool was ready, the girls began blowing up party balloons, and hanging them around the walls.  Chantelle stood on a chair pinning them to the cornice in bunches of two or three.  Once that was done, it was Coralline’s turn to make her contribution to the party.  She was a bit of a photography buff, and she secured two miniature video cameras high up on the side walls, pointing down at the pool. 

“There,” she said, as she stepped down.  “I can start these remotely, and after the evening’s over, we’ll be able to review everything that happened..  I do hope it all goes to plan.”

Hermione arrived just after six.   She looked stunning.  Her hair was a perfect page-boy bell, her make-up immaculate.  Her friends were waiting for her in the hall.  Chantelle was holding the dress, and Georgianna the stripy box.

“Hi, girls!  What’s that…  Is that my dress?”  She looked puzzled.

“It is, Hermione,” smiled Chantelle, sweetly.  “We have your present here, but we’ve decided we’re not going to give it to you until you’re wearing your dress.”

“What?  That thing?  Why?  I don’t get it.”

“Let’s just say…well, we know you hate that dress.  Far too juvenile.  So we’ve got you something a bit more grown up.  You’ll be able to wear your dress one last time tonight, then destroy it and never see it again.  What do you think?”

A big wicked grin spread over Hermione’s face.

“Sounds good to me!  Can I burn it?”

“You can do what you like with it after tonight.”

“It’s a deal.  I’ll wear anything you say for that privilege.”

Hermione eyed the box.  She imagined they must have bought her some slinky, sophisticated little number…black silk, maybe?  Or leather?

They led her into the living room.  They made her strip down to her underwear, and put on the dress.  It was on the small side now, and as Chantelle zipped it up at the back, Hermione’s breasts swelled out over the low-cut front.  Georgianna had put the box on the table.

“Your present, Hermione.  Happy birthday!”

Hermione ripped off the ribbon and took the lid of the box.  Her face fell.  There seemed to be multiple layers, and the top layer consisted of  her old white ballet tights and silver pumps.

“Just to complete your outfit,” grinned Coralline.  “Then you can get to the good stuff.”

Reluctantly, Hermione pulled on the tights and shoes.  As she bent forward, she had to take care her breasts didn’t actually fall out of her dress! 

“There.  Happy now?  What next.”

Next was a rather sexy black satin choker, will a little dog-tag hanging from the front.

“I…heart…boys,” she read out.  “Hmph.  So naf.”

Coralline helped her on with it.

“Now…what the…?”  Hermione had reached the third layer,  She was holding up a pair of black leather cuffs, connected by a steel link.

“Here, let us help you, Hermione.”

In a coordinated move, Coralline and Georgianna pulled her arms behind her back, while Chantelle deftly buckled on the cuffs.

“What’s the idea?  Get off!”

But it was too late.  She found herself pushed back onto an armchair, and in a moment a second pair of cuffs had been secured around her ankles.

“What the fuck are you doing?  Fucking get these things off, or…”

“Or what, bitch?” smirked Chantelle.  “We don’t want to listen to your whining any more.  Georgie?  Time for the gag.”

Out of the box came a rather interesting looking gag, on a broad black strap.

“You fucking cu…”

But she should have kept her mouth shut.  Now it was going to be open for some time.  The flanges on the circular, red rubber-lined steel mouth piece fitted neatly either side on her teeth, holding her mouth wide open.  Georgianna buckled the strap firmly at the back of her neck, rendering it immoveable.  Her beautifully glossed lips had now been replaced by a round, red, rubber ‘O’, mirroring the surprise in her eyes.  She began to gurgle imprecations, but fortunately the gag was equipped with a red rubber plug, like a bath plug , which dangled from one side of the strap on a short silver chain.  Chantelle plugged her, and peace was restored.

Coralline looked at her contemptuously.  “Coffee, girls?”

“Why not?”

Chapter 6.

After coffee, Hermione was picked up bodily and carried into her rooms.

“Look Hermione, lots of pretty balloons!  We know how much you like balloons.  We’ve even put a few little ones in your special pool.”

“Hermione stared at the walls, and at the pool, uncomprehending.  They laid her on the bed, and Chantelle brought the last little surprise out of the box.  A small padlock, with which they attached the ring on her wrists cuffs to the ring on her ankle cuffs.  They lifted her into the pool and placed her in a kneeling position.  She was beginning to look frightened, but there was nothing she could do, and no way to escape from the paddling pool.  Chantelle patted her cheek.

“Cheer up, Hermione.”  She looked at her watch.  “The boys will be here soon.  All those poor frustrated boys you deprived of their rightful pleasures.  There’ll be David and Richie and Keiran, and Mark, and Danny…oh, and of course, Gregory.  Gregory told me all about you – I had to really squeeze it out of him, mind.  We gave them all invites to your special birthday party. Each one individually signed by you.  Georgianna does your signature so well, don’t you. Georgie?”  Georgianna smiled.  “Such nice polite invitations you wrote.  What did you say?  Let me see…  Oh, yes, something about how sorry you were to have been such a fastidious bitch, and how you had resolved to make it up to them on your birthday.  So at last you’re going to give them some satisfaction.  Oh, which reminds me…”  She reached out and gently freed Hermione’s bulging breasts from the tight confines of her bra and dress, so that they rested invitingly on top, the firm nipples jutting proudly forward.  “There, no point in concealing your greatest assets, is there?”

Hermione glared at her, and made some ineffectual, muffled protests.

“I hope you’re getting the picture now,” she continued.  “You look like you are.  There won’t be any condoms or rubber gloves today, darling!  So there’s one other thing I need to mention.  We’re not going to be involved.  We were not here.  This is all your idea, understand?  A special birthday orgy with a load of boys from school.  Right?  That’s the story, and that’s what you’re going to tell your mother, and anyone else who asks.”

Hermione shook her head vigorously.

“No?  Well let me tell you why you’re going to comply.  See there?  And there?  They’re HD video cameras.  Yes, darling, the whole thing’s going to be recorded.  And if you spill the beans…”  She leant forward and whispered in her ear.  “Then you’re going to be on every porn site on the web.  Famous!  Would you like that?”

Hermione didn’t look as though she would.

“Good.  You understand.  Good girl.”

Chapter 7.

The girls sneaked out of the house at twenty to seven, leaving the door on the latch.  Chantelle had parked her car just down the street so they could follow proceedings until Mrs Barraclough and the others arrived.  The boys arrived en masse at ten to.  The girls watched them slowly making their way into the house.

When they got into the hall, the boys were confronted  by a notice written in red felt pen on yellow paper, and accompanied by a chunky arrow pointing at the lounge door.  “HI BOYS!  CUM IN!  MY ROOM’S THROUGH THE LOUNGE.  CUM SAY HELLO!!”  They looked at each other with startled amusement.

“Wow,” exclaimed Danny, “doesn’t sound like the girl I dated!”

“Chantelle told me she’s thinks she’s had some sort of awakening,” remarked Gregory.  “Suddenly realised what she’s been missing, like.”

“If you ask me,” said Richie, “I think all that stuff before was just to get us all hot for her, so that when she finally let us have our way, she knew we’d really give it to her.  Women do stuff like that.”

“Yeah, I think you’re right, Richie,” said Keiran.  “I reckon she’s been planning her birthday orgy for weeks.”

“So all that stuff about, you know, not liking sperm…” said David, thoughtfully, “it was all just a wind-up?”

“Exactly.”

“That so devious…” said Mark, admiringly, “…so perverted…”

They processed gingerly through the lounge and out of the far door.  They were confronted with a pink door.  Pinned to it was what they first took to be a bunch of pale pink balloons, but on a second look they realised the ‘balloons’ were in fact inflated condoms!  Beneath them was another notice:  “YOU WON’T BE NEEDING THESE TODAY.”

David turned the handle and opened the door.  Their jaws dropped in unison at the sight which presented itself to them.  Hermione kneeling there waiting for them, apparently jiggling her bare breasts, (though in fact she was struggling with her bonds), and emitting muffled noises which could have been fright, but sounded to the boys more like moans of lust.  On the wall behind her a third notice announced: “I WANT YOUR CUM!”

Mike felt himself swelling at the mere sight.  He advanced on Hermione.

“Wow, Hermione, you look amazing!  We all thought…but now I understand.  You must have had help…but it’s brilliant…so cool!”

The restraints held her kneeling nicely upright, in a rather expectant and compliant pose.

“Fuck,” murmured Danny.  “What a turn-on.  Look at her nipples!  She must want it so much…  I think that’s her best dress, too – the one her mum got her for her last birthday.  I want to cum all over her…”

“Well go ahead,” said Gregory.  “That’s what she begging for.”

“Shall I then?”

“Sure.”

There was a moment’s hesitation.

“Let’s all go at once,” suggested Mark.  “I’d feel more comfortable.”

“Mark’s right.  Come on.”

They needed no second bidding.  They took their places around the pool, three on each side.  There was a general unzipping, and soon Hermione found six stiffening penises pointing directly at her face.  Soon the boys were masturbating steadily, taking their time in anticipation of a spectacular climax.   They didn’t speak for some while, focussing on maintain a good rhythm, so that when their juices started to flow the only noises to be heard (apart from Hermione’s muffled squeaking) were the competing ploppings of well-lubricated oscillating foreskins, punctuated by their little groans and grunts of pleasure.

“Take your time, guys,” gasped Danny.  “Let’s see if we can all come at once, shall we?”

“Yeah…” said Richie.  He was standing immediately to Hermione’s left, and took the opportunity of wiping his slippery pre-cum on her hair.

“Take her plug out,” suggested David.  “It’ll have to come out eventually anyway.”

Richie obliged.  As he removed it, there was a copious escape of saliva, which ran down her chin, down her neck, and down between her breasts.  Inside the gag they could see her tongue wagging, and she began to gurgle some inarticulate words.

“Mmm… looks nice and warm and wet in there,” grinned Keiran.  “Bags I get first go…”

But the thought of sliding his quivering cock into Hermione’s open mouth proved too much for Gregory.

“Oh, fuck…I’m cumming…”

He was standing furthest from Hermione, but even so the first spurt hit her fair and square in the face.  The remainder of the ejaculate decorated the slopes of her breasts and her birthday dress.  The faint pattering of sperm on the crisp taffeta was enough to set the others off, and with gasps and moans they simultaneously unloaded their pent-up stores of semen all over their unwilling victim.  Despite their intensity of their orgasms, the boys had enough presence of mind to ensure none of it missed its target.  Wad after wad landed on the unfortunate girl; her perfect page-boy cut was bedewed with milky pearls, sticky drops dribbled slowly down her cheeks, breasts, and arms, and her lovely blue dress was smothered with blobs of slime!  Even the small balloons in the pool were spattered with peripheral splashes.  The boys themselves were left gasping by their exertions, dizzy with the heights of ecstasy to which, as they thought, this arch-seductress had brought them. 

But they were young, and recovered quickly.  Perhaps they should have shown a little more gratitude to their presumed benefactress, but boys will be boys, and now all they wanted was even more self-gratification.  Keiran, asserting his right, took Hermione by the hair, and, turning her head sideways, forced his semi-tumescent penis into the gag.  A few exploratory thrusts and he was stiff again, and began to fuck Hermione’s face with total abandon.  His rapid pounding whipped the mixture of juices and saliva into a sticky cream, and that which Hermione didn’t swallow was forced out between the rubber ring and the shaft of Keiran’s penis in little viscous droplets, spattering her breasts and running in a sticky trickle down her chin.  The others watched transfixed, masturbating furiously, content to enjoy the spectacle and eager to witness Keiran’s imminent climax.

The engorged glans was pummelling the back of Hermione’s throat when she felt it harden again, and knew what was about to happen.  With a cry he thrust home, and his sperm burst from the tip.  She felt it spurt into her throat, hot and thick, and knew she had to swallow the lot or choke.  The others watched greedily as she was forced to gulp it down.  Even then she was unable to swallow fast enough to prevent a few drops being forced out of her nose.  For Hermione, it was the ultimate humiliation.  Before that evening she had hardly been able to contemplate getting sperm on her naked skin.  Now she was swallowing mouthfuls of it like it was banana milkshake.  And she feared there was more to come.  But she was granted a brief respite, for, as Keiran was finally withdrawing his softening member, the rest of the boys, awed by the performance they had just witnessed, were unable to contain themselves.  All five erupted for a second time, showering her with a fresh deluge of semen.

Chapter 8.

As they recovered, they regarded the object of their attentions with a degree of satisfaction.  Hermione was a mess.  Her hair was sticky and awry where Keiran had so rudely grabbed it.  Her face was glazed, spunk trickling from her gag and hanging in sticky strings from her cheeks.  Her breasts were iced with it.  And the lovely blue taffeta dress?  Covered with wet stains and blobs which were still in the process of sinking in.  Moreover she was kneeling in little sticky puddles of it.  She looked quite picturesque, kneeling there surrounded by her little coloured balloons.

“Whoa, look what we’ve done, lads!” laughed Danny.  “Is that nice, Hermione?  Is that what you wanted?  Or is it a bit more than you bargained for?  Is it?”

Hermione would have glared at him, but for the sperm dripping from her eyebrows.  She felt a little sick, though she was vaguely aware that the taste was nowhere near as bad as she had thought.  Almost palatable.  She wondered who would be next.  A couple of the boys were working hard to revive their temporarily incapacitated members.

“D’you reckon we could fill that pool up?” laughed Richie.

“We could try!”

“Hermione?  Hermione!  What are you doing in there?  You have ten seconds to explain all…this” – here she looked from the inflated condoms to the invitation she was still holding in her hand, and back again – or I’m coming in.”

“Oh, dear, Debbie, I don’t think you should go in there, you know,” put in Chantelle, eager to implant the conspirators’ narrative in Mrs Barraclough’s mind.  “I did hear Hermione say something about a birthday “orgy” - but naturally I thought she was joking.  I really don’t think you should…”

As for Malcolm and his three friends from Scouts, who had now arrived in the corridor, they were sniggering at the bunch of condoms pinned to her door, and as eager to see inside as Mrs Barraclough was hesitant.  But it was her duty, she told herself. 

“Malcolm!  Behave yourself!  Take your friends to your room, please.”

“But mum…we’re hungry…”

“Don’t worry, Mrs Barraclough,” said Georgianna.  “Boys?  Off to Malcolm’s room – now, please – and I’ll made you some food and bring it down.”

“Oh…,” whined Malcolm.

“Go on.”

The Scouts trooped off down the corridor to Malcolm’s bedroom.  Georgianna headed for the kitchen to rustle up some food.  

“So what’s it to be?” said Mrs Barraclough.

Inside, there was panic.  Danny, casting around for a hiding-place, had shut himself in the closet.  But Keiran, with greater foresight, had opened the lower sash of the window and climbed out.  The others, in various states of undress, had followed, and were now making their way across the garden and out of the back gate into the alley.

“Right!  I’m coming in!”

Neither of them ever forgot that encounter.  Mrs Barraclough, upright and self-righteous, open-mouthed with disbelief.  Hermione, trussed up, dumb, smothered with slime.  It took her mother a good minute to find her voice.

“Hermione Barraclough?”  She framed it as a question, as if hardly believing this could be her only daughter.  She took in the balloons around the walls, the pool, the gag.

“What in the name of goodness…?  It’s true then!  You have been having …an orgy!  So this is your idea of a birthday party, is it?  This is what you really wanted!  Well, the nerve!  And in my house!  I’m surprised you didn’t come straight out and ask me to organise it for you!”

Now that would have been something, thought Chantelle, approvingly.

“Well!  Well…it looks as though you’ve got just what you wanted, young lady.”  She took a pace forward.  “And your best dress!   You wore your best dress!  The dress I bought you for your last birthday.”   Mrs Barraclough was at a loss at this revelation.  She wasn’t sure whether her daughter had worn it because she wanted to look pretty for the orgy, or merely as a way of destroying it.  So she passed on.  “No, don’t try to explain.”  (Ignoring the fact Hermione was unable to do much more than squeak.)  “I don’t want to hear it.  No doubt you blame me for your behaviour.  No doubt you think I gave you too sheltered an upbringing.  This is your revenge for my efforts to educate you in ladylike behaviour.  That’s it, isn’t it?”  Here her remarks took on an ironic tone.  “Well, my dear, congratulations!  You have succeeded.  You have passed with flying colours.  You have turned yourself into a complete…tart!”

At this point Coralline snorted with laughter, and had to try to pretend she had sneezed.  But Mrs Barraclough didn’t notice anyway.

“Right.  Well, madam, I’m leaving.  My nephews have kindly agreed to put me up for the night.  I couldn’t stay in this house another minute.  You can get yourself cleaned up.  And Malcolm and his friends…they’ll be so disappointed.”

“It’s fine, Mrs Barraclough,” put in Chantelle.  “You can go.  We’ll take care of everything here.  Georgianna’s feeding the boys, and we’ll help Hermione clean up.”

“Well…I don’t like to leave you with all this…”

“It’s fine.  Go on.  We’ll see you tomorrow.” 

Chapter 9.

The girls were ecstatic at the success of their plan.  Chantelle and Coralline hugged each other with delight.  Chantelle looked in on Hermione.

“You did great, babe.  You’ll be all right for a bit, won’t you?  We’re going to feed the boys and have something ourselves.  We’ll be along shortly to sort you out.”  And she shut the door.

They made pizza and sandwiches for the boys, and took them drinks and crisps.  They were in the middle of a serious discussion when the girls came in.

“Chantelle?” said Malcolm.  “What was my sister doing in her room?  Why was mum angry?”

“Oh, nothing, dear.  She wasn’t really angry, anyway.  It was just that Hermione forgot to tell her she was having a grown-up party today.  That’s all.”

But after they’d left, the boys voiced their suspicions.

“She was in there having sex, wasn’t she?” said Jack.

“I got a peek inside,” said Timothy.  “There were lots of balloons, but I couldn’t see Hermione.”

“Was she having sex, Malc, d’you reckon?  Does your mum let her have boys in her bedroom?”

“I don’t know.  Maybe.  She thought everyone was out for the evening.”

“What’s happening now?” asked Jack.

Malcolm opened the door.  “I think her friends are in the kitchen.  Hold on.”  He crept down the corridor, and was back in a few seconds.  “Yeah.  They’re in the kitchen eating and drinking.”

“Why don’t we go take a peek into her room?” suggested Billy.

“I’ll go,” said Timothy.  “Malcolm, you keep look-out.”

So while Malcolm crouched at the lounge door, making sure the girls didn’t leave the kitchen, Timothy softly turned the handle of Hermione’s bedroom door and peeped in.

Now Danny had finally emerged from his hiding place in the closet.  He was about to follow his friends by the window route, but he was aroused again by this time, having spent his time in hiding masturbating gently at the recollection of the evening’s events.  So he decided to give Hermione’s breasts a farewell dousing.  He positioned himself by the side of the pool and soon brought himself to the brink of orgasm.

“Thanks for a lovely evening, Hermione.  Maybe we can do it again sometime…sometime soon….  Aaahh!”

Quite fortuitously, it was at that very moment that Timothy peeped around the door.  His eyes widened and his mouth fell open.

“What can you see?” whispered Malcolm.  No reply.

“Well?”

Still no reply.  But now Danny was climbing out of the window.  Timothy pushed the door to, and raced back down the corridor, with Malcolm in pursuit. 

“Well?” said Billy.  “Did you see anything?”

Timothy was bursting with excitement.

“I know!  I know what she was doing!”  And he related everything he’d seen to his three startled friends.  When he’d finished, there was a silence, eventually broken by Jack.

“Imagine…getting to wank over a real girl’s breasts…”

“Yeah…real breasts…not just pictures of breasts,” said Timothy, a little sadly.  Timothy was rather young for his age, and hadn't yet found a girlfriend, possibly because he was so proud of being an Explorer Scout that he liked to wear his uniform whenever he could.

“And she was all spunky?”

“All over.  In her hair an everything.”

“Wow!”

“Hermione’s so cute…sorry, Malc, I know she’s your sister an’ all, but she is…”

“That’s okay.  I can’t believe it, though.  She’s normally so…I dunno, prim and proper.”

They looked at each other.

“What are the girls doing?”

“Drinking wine in the kitchen.”

“Reckon they’ll be there for a while…?

“I reckon…there’s a lot of wine in there…”

“So shall we…go and have another look?”

“Why not?”

“If they catch us, we can say we thought she called.”

“Okay.  Let’s go.”

The four Scouts crept down the corridor and slipped into Hermione’s room.  Malcolm closed the door silently, and the four advanced a few paces into the room.

“Sis…what have you been doing…?”

“Wow…how many boys did she have in here?”

“A lot.  Look at her.”

“Look at that gag thing!  Do you think…?”

“Yeah.”

Billy approached her.

“Billy?  What are you doing?” said Malcolm, a little alarmed.

“Sorry, Malc.  I need to have a close look.  Gosh….”

“Billy!” 

But he was already unzipping his shorts.  “Sorry, but it’s hurting me.  I have to let it out.”

It sprang forth, no more than a foot from Hermione’s face.  Billy sighed with relief.

“Hermione…?” he ventured.  “Did those boys that were in here…did they…?”  He pointed at the gag.

Hermione looked up at him and nodded.  He bit his lower lip.  “Did you…?”

She lowered her eyes, and thrust her head towards him.  The invitation was clear.

The truth was, the experience had been a revelation for Hermione.  For the first time in her life she had felt really sexy – sexy, and powerful.  The idea that she could have half a dozen guys salivating over her she found very exciting.  So exciting, that she had had an orgasm just from being showered with their sperm.  But then, when she had had her first taste of it…then she was hooked.  She wanted more, and more, but her annoying mother had deprived her of the chance.  Maybe the Scouts could help…

It was just after ten that the girls thought they’d better check on their friend.  The scene that met their eyes stopped them in their tracks.  Timothy and Billy were asleep on Hermione’s bed.  Malcolm was sleeping with his head resting on a balloon, and Jack was propped against the wall.  All seemed to be in a state of partial undress.  At first they couldn’t see Hermione, but as they approached the pool they saw that she had rolled onto her side.  She was lying in a pool of slime, and the floor in front of the pool was slippery with it.  There were blobs of it on the furniture, and even some of the balloons high up on the wall were glistening.  A Scout neckerchief, stained and sticky, was draped over the side of the pool.  They looked at each other.

“I think we can count that a success,” said Chantelle.

“Do you think…we’ve changed her mind about sperm?” asked Georgianna.

“I don’t know,” said Coralline.  “The videos will tell us everything.  But before we sort this mess out, I’m getting the rubber gloves…”

To be continued…??