Pakistani Daughter

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

'Ayesha! Please!' her mother quietly protested.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

'Shit!' Ayesha quietly exclaimed.

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

Her mother looked like a little schoolgirl!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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