How to Train Your Daughter Ch. 12b

A key marker of a girl's good breeding and training was that she should be able to act, move, and interact with other people with precisely the same carefree, girlish grace no matter how much clothing she was wearing, and even a completely naked schoolgirl should change nothing in her normal behavior as she went about her business.

A girl's simple pleated navy blue mini skirt must extend no further than four inches below the bottom of her vulva when viewed from the front; as Ryan helped her into hers, he pointed out the forest green strip that circled the hem, unlike the plain blue of most of the girls at Stonewall Academy, signifying that she was an eligible student, and available training by any of the teachers at their discretion.

Her white blouse was a quite fine and silky cotton which was of nearly the same sheerness as her panties, but it was elegantly fitted and very flattering.

The highest button was only just below her substantial cleavage created by her bra, and her nipples and areolas barely managed to nestle behind the edges of her open décolletage as it tried desperately to keep her decent in a coy game of hide and seek; it was all for nought, of course, as the gauzy, draping fabric did little to hide the details of her nipples' lovely blushing coloring; and did nothing at all to mask their aching, charming stiffness.

As she looked at herself in her new uniform, Abigail's feelings were understandably mixed; she honestly thought she'd never looked so cute, and she understood the rationale behind every important detail of her clothing now; but she was still a simple girl from a small town in rural Ontario, and a big part of her wasn't sure she could dress like this everyday, and share her body so freely.

Ryan saw the hesitance in her face, and took her by the shoulders and sought her uncertain eyes, and then tipped her chin up to meet his gaze.

'Miss Abigail, you look ravishing,' he said, his fingers moving to trace the irresistible points of her nipples over her blouse, and causing her to melt a bit more as she felt his approval in his touch. 'You're so adorable and delicious—I've seen every part of your body, and I can honestly say that the Stonewall Academy uniform suits you perfectly. You're a little vision. Let's go show you to Principal Darger.'

Principal Henry Darger was something of a living legend, and a respected member of the community. An early advocate and influential voice in the creation and institution of the Festival, he'd sealed his place in history during the contentious early debates about the safety and practicality of legally classifying young girls as community property when, to prove his own commitment and belief in the ideals he promoted, he offered his own three daughters for the men of the town to enjoy exactly as they would be able to under Darger's proposed Festival system, with no other strings attached, for one month.

It is difficult now to imagine how extraordinary a situation this was in the relatively puritanical and philistinic mid-twenty-first century; while there had always been whisperings of fantasies of a world in which every man could sleep with the daughters of his friends and neighbors at his discretion and leisure, no one had yet been committed enough to take the obvious first step—offering up his own daughters for his friends' and neighbors' pleasure—and Darger's brilliant, bold move changed everything.

After a month of enjoying themselves with his three young girls in every way imaginable, the town's eligible men had to admit the experiment was a huge success, as they couldn't help but see the light after getting to experience the delights that were possible when they could simply choose a beautiful girl to have sex with whenever and wherever they pleased.

It was patently clear, even after this small-scale trial run, that making such a broad sexual education a universal part of every girl's upbringing could only bring about an invigorating, edifying future for all involved, and that offering up their own daughters for the enjoyment of their neighbors was a reasonable price to pay for a lifetime of exploring the unlimited pleasures of every other young girl's body they fancied, and they instituted the Festival immediately and with a unanimous vote.

A lifelong scholar with a passion for knowledge, Darger had devoted his life to the study of young girls, and had written several respected books on their psychology, anatomy, behavior, and training.

He wanted nothing better than for them to feel safe and adored, and to embrace the essential nature of their girlhood, which was free and naked and pleasurable for them, as well as for anyone who happened to be near enough to see them or to help them fulfill their ultimate purpose as a girl by coupling with their desirable young bodies; as the long-time principal of Stonewall Academy, he'd set the standard for preparing girls for their sexual responsibilities.

Now he rose to greet them from behind his heavy oak desk, his hand extended to Ryan and his eyes twinkling with delight as he beheld Abigail's newly-dressed figure.

'Goodness, Miss Abigail, you look lovely in our school uniform—almost as lovely as you did in the outfit you were wearing when I met you for the first time while on my morning walk about campus earlier today.'

Abigail had never been to a principal's office except for one time when she got in trouble in fifth grade, and though she sensed he was joking, she glanced around a little nervously at the large couch across from Principal Darger's desk, the overflowing bookshelf and piles of books and papers on the floor, and the commemorative photos from years past, some in black and white, of nude Stonewall Academy schoolgirls on stage, with the smiling men who'd just deflowered them, celebrating winning first place awards at their Festivals.

She thanked him and reached politely for a handshake, and Principal Darger chuckled kindly.

'I've had a chance to review your file, and I'm familiar with your unusual situation. I understand how strange this new life may feel for you now, but I promise we are all here to help you feel more comfortable and confident as you learn to embrace your duties here as an eligible girl.

'Now, I know you have not had any formal etiquette lessons yet, and we'll remedy that immediately; however, you should know that a girl never shakes a man's hand.

'As a young girl, your entire body is its own greeting, and a welcome one at that; it's proper for you to greet a man by looking him in the eye with your hands politely clasped behind your back, offering him your breasts with precisely the same well-mannered confidence with which you just extended your lovely hand. Let's try that again, shall we?'

Abigail nodded and apologized, and did as she was instructed, repeating her 'thank you' and standing straight and tall as she could and pressing her breasts toward him.

Principal Darger smiled and said it was good to meet her, and gently played with the full undersides of her bosoms over her blouse, finishing his greeting with a friendly little tug on her sensitive nipples through the thin fabric as Mr. Desilva watched.

'Now, if he finds you to be especially charming, a man might finish his greeting by slipping his hand beneath your skirt and saying a little hello to your cunny over your panties, like this...'

Abigail gasped and her knees threatened to buckle as the principal's fingers unexpectedly made contact with her sheer panties and gently squeezed her mound, but she stood stock still, her fingers twisting tight behind her back, and committed herself resolutely to mastering the challenging social protocols expected of an eligible girl in her new home.

'...or, if he prefers, he may take you by the arm like so and turn you to face away from him. If this happens, remember that it's good manners to bend just a little from the waist—straight legs, dear girl, there you go—and pop your bottom out so he can appreciate it properly for a moment by flipping your skirt up onto your back like this, and admiring the the lovely curves of your bottom with a couple happy handfuls like I'm doing now, or gentle pats to test your firmness and bounce, before you both continue on with whatever purpose has brought you together.

'Remember, every time an eligible man meets you, he is determining whether he feels you are a good fit for him to invest valuable time and energy training you and enjoying your body, so a polite girl knows that her greeting should make it simple and pleasant for him to make that important decision.'

He glanced at Ryan, running his fingers up the shapely backs of her thighs.

'Goodness, such a cute pair of legs on her. And very well-behaved already. I'm confident she'll do quite well here.'

Ryan nodded.

'Yes sir. She's been a delight all day. Obviously a little shy and uncertain, and understandably so, but obedient and trusting, and in my experience that's all you need to build on. I think she has the potential to be a really capital girl.'

Abigail blushed with pride to hear Mr. Desilva express such confidence in her, and his appreciation for her efforts to be a good girl.

'Well, Miss Abigail, I think I should sign your final enrollment papers and send you on your way to class, does that sound good?'

'Yes, Principal Darger, sir, I would like that quite a lot, please.'

'Excellent. In that case, I'll perform your first official uniform inspection now to ensure that all is in order; and according to Dr. Andrew's note here, he didn't have time to do a proper depth check on you before he left, so we'll take care of that as well, and then you'll be a fully-fledged Stonewall Academy girl.'

He stood her in front of him as he took a seat on the broad leather couch, and went briskly through the basic checkpoints of the uniform regulations.

'Blouse looks good—open from the throat to the bottom of your cleavage, which is quite impressive, by the way—nipples clearly erect and visible through the fabric, so good job there.

'Skirt is the correct color, and has the green stripe to let the teaching staff easily ascertain that you are eligible for full training sessions; and I can see a little of your adorable butt cheeks just below the hemline here, which is how it should be.'

He produced a slim, four-inch block of wood, which he gently slid up between Abigail's inner thighs until it contacted the gusset of her panties.

'The actual standard, of course, is that some of this little block—which the teachers all carry with them to facilitate their spot checks—should extend below your hemline, and this one clearly does, so that means your skirt is in order as well.'

Abigail sighed with relief; she'd figured that Mr. Desilva knew what he was doing, but it was good to know she was properly dressed now, and not in violation of any important rules.

'Open your blouse for me, please, Miss Abigail, and show me your bra.'

Even though she knew she'd be showing Principal Darger not only her bra, but of course her exposed nipples as well, Abigail quickly unbuttoned her blouse and opened it so he could easily inspect her.

'Very good; white open-cup bra, nipples and areolas fully visible—and quite lovely nipples as well, I must say. Beautiful coloring on this girl, especially with those exquisite blue eyes,' Darger commented, rolling her nipples between his finger and thumb to make them flush a slightly darker shade of pink.

Satisfied with his work, he gestured to her skirt.

'Now please raise the front of your skirt for me, Miss Abigail, and hold it up nice and high—yes, just like so, and keep it there like a good girl—so I can properly inspect your panties and your grooming between your legs.'

Principal Darger had not given her permission to re-button her blouse, and Abigail, knowing the men enjoyed seeing her naked body and understanding more and more that her responsibility as a young girl was to always assist in providing that enjoyment, did not try to, nor even asked; but simply stood quietly, her blouse fallen open and her pink nipples out in the cool air of the office for anyone to see, raising her skirt high to show the men her underwear and her pussy.

She knew he would almost certainly pull down her panties when he'd done inspecting them in order to view her vagina, but she was prepared, and she knew she would let him without protestation—and in fact, she realized to her growing wonder that she was looking forward to it.

The father-daughter party had been unbelievably strange, scary, and honestly kind of gross for her. She had never in her short life imagined she'd spend an afternoon being passed around between four fathers for their enjoyment, and by the end of it, sore and embarrassed and exhausted from her orgasms and covered in cum, she was a bit shaken and overwhelmed.

She was astonished, however, to find that the raw experience of being used over and over as a source of delight and pleasure, until the other fathers had fully expended their most primal evolutionary urges in, and on, her tender body, had awakened something ancient and wondrous and terrifying in her.

She had never thought that much about sex in her young life, to be honest, except as it related to her fumbling romance with her boyfriend and her ill-fated, youthful dreams of spending the rest of her life with him; suddenly, since Saturday, she couldn't stop the overwhelming urges that swept her body and mind almost constantly: in spite of, or perhaps BECAUSE of, that frightening, mind-bending afternoon, she wanted to do it again. And again. And yet again.

She wasn't sure what this meant, but the events of today only further confirmed her feelings. Despite her natural reservations this morning as she was subjected to becoming completely at the disposal of two men she'd never met, her body had betrayed her morals; and her young mind, in thrall to her newly unleashed libido and her biological mandate, followed obediently behind.

She'd been introduced to her proper place in the natural order of things, and now she craved the touch and the adoration and the brute physical desire she knew the men had for her and were so clearly holding in check, withholding their sex from her until they'd decided she was worth penetrating and emptying their seed into her.

Now all she wanted was to prove she was a good enough girl for them to train, and she hoped that her freshly groomed cunny, of which she was justifiably quite proud, would help decide the issue.

As Principle Darger leaned closer to inspect her panties, he again noted her impressive acquiescence to Mr. Desilva, who nodded knowingly.

...And I see a pair of perfectly-fitted panties here, with excellent conformity to the shape of your vulva, and even a lovely, long indentation of your slit,' he said, tracing the clearly formed contours of her outer lips, and gently squeezing the delectably soft and ripe handful of the swollen girl flesh between her legs through the thin fabric, feeling her rising warmth and causing Abigail to suddenly purr with need. 'Good girl. Let's take a look at what's underneath here...'

He tugged her panties down, instructing her to spread her stance a bit so that her insubstantial undies stayed at her knees instead of falling to the floor; additionally, it made it easier for him to inspect her all the way back between her legs. Suddenly beside himself, he clapped his hands softly in delight.

'Mr. Desilva, I salute you—very nice job on this tasty little treat. Very classic style; truly a lovely bush to start with, and now it's presented simply beautifully.'

He ran his fingers hungrily through her soft hair, glorying in the caress of her rich curls.

'I must say, I just love this...perfect, lush length up top here; and then nice and short, but still so lovely and thick, as it transitions back between her legs toward her opening...Miss Abigail, I must say you have one of the most beautiful vaginas I have seen arrive on this campus in the last couple years—oh, dear, what's all this?'

Abigail shuddered involuntarily as he withdrew his hand, which glistened in the afternoon light under a thick coating of her sweet, clear girl cum so copious that a long, syrupy strand followed his fingers like a crystalline bridge leading the way back to a secret place of unimaginable pleasure.

Ryan nodded.

'Yes sir, she's been completely soaked all day, no matter how much we clean her, or what we're doing to her. She's cum at least once—and it was quite a show—and I think, given the sheltered and deprived manner in which she was raised, her body is extremely hungry for copulation at nearly all times now, especially when being handled. Like I said, I think she has potential to be a really high-quality trainee.'

'Indeed, Mr. Desilva, I'm inclined to agree with your hypothesis—and most perceptive it is, as well. You seem to have a good head on your shoulders for the work of handling girls; perhaps you and I should share a drink and a couple of cute young things together some time; it's always a pleasure to meet another thoughtful connoisseur of the young female body.'

Ryan eagerly agreed.

'Anytime, sir. But if I'm to be honest, most of what I know I learned from studying your books, so I'm not sure I'd have that much to contribute. I've been a fan for years; your text on using semen as a reward in positive reinforcement training with first-year trainees was, well, brilliant. Changed my whole approach.'

Principal Darger graciously said he was flattered, and thanked Ryan, returning his fingers to Abigail's drenched vagina.

She uttered a low, inarticulate cry as he split her inner lips apart just below her clitoris, and swirled the tip of his middle finger agonizingly closer to her pouting entrance in an infuriatingly deliberate torment.

Reaching his other hand with a slow, calming movement, he gently tucked a wavy tress of her mahogany mane behind her ear, his fingers following her jawline and gently grasping her chin so he could properly admire the shimmering depths of her cobalt eyes while he played with her beautiful, inexperienced vagina; normally soulful and demure, her gaze had begun to glitter now with the consuming fire of her body's unfulfilled need.

'It's been a blessing for this to be my life's work,' he said modestly, murmuring a soft encouragement to Abigail to assure her she was being a very good girl, and that she needed to continue to be patient and help him by holding her skirt up nice and high so he could keep inspecting her. 'I have simply never found any pursuit more magical than observing and guiding these exquisite young creatures as they grow into the fullness of their sex.'

He gestured, with the hushed delight of a naturalist observing a rare and sacred animal at ease in its native habitat after decades of single-minded searching, to the tender, trembling, half-naked girl in front of him as he at long last pressed the just the very tip of his finger past the hidden gate to her cascading interior.

A guttural purr ripped Abigail's alabaster throat, and her head tossed back involuntarily in the violence of a long-delayed pleasure for which she was far too starved to feel any shame any longer in the sheer unspeakable dirtiness of her present situation, and her flashing eyes begged the men to use her to fulfill her most fundamental purpose for existence, to use her until nothing was left of her, to use her until they had had their fill of her body and cast her aside, exhausted and overflowing with their sperm and unable to escape any designs they could conjure for her.

'Truly there can be nothing more wondrous than this sight, I'm sure you'd agree, Mr. Desilva,' Principal Darger said quietly, a blissful smile on his face as he watched the young girl become subsumed, swept powerlessly away from her futile years of civilizing domestication and all inane concepts of modesty or decency by the thunderous waves of her ancient and irresistible hunger.