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The Shy Girl (Argus)

The Shy Girl by Argus

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Shy, mild mannered Justine is a beautiful girl who has led a sheltered life in a Swiss boarding school. She is far from prepared for the wild life of California. Easily bullied, easily pressured, desperately afraid of causing offense or hurting feelings, the bewildered girl finds herself involved in her first sexual relationship, a BDSM game of lust and power with a beautiful Spanish girl. But the girl's domineering mother also lusts after the gentle Justine, and has nastier games in mind. And when Justine finds herself the helpless prisoner of a powerful, depraved man and his wife she begins to learn that innocence is no protection against the cruelties of others.

Editorial - this is a re-release of an old favourite by Argus!

Product type: EBook    Published by: author - self-published    Published: 9 / 2014

No. words: 62942

Style: Male Dom - M/F, Fem Dom - F/F

Available Formats: Palm  MobiPocket (MOBI)  EPUB  Sony Reader (LRF)  PDF  MS Reader  This book has a format which can be downloaded to Kindle


Chapter One

Justine was a shy, quiet girl whose strict upbringing had failed to acquaint her as thoroughly with the social and behavioural skills generally expected of a girl her age. Her father having died when she was quite young her mother, a woman much given to fits of panic at the small stresses and strains of life, had decided that boarding school was the best recourse for both of them. She had spent most of her young life at St. Gwendolyn's Academy in Switzerland, a quiet, strict, and traditional school for girls. There she had learned the merits of modesty and the proper behaviour of a young lady.
Though she had enjoyed her life at St. Gwendolyn's, Justine had emerged with little of the strength of character and confidence a woman of the modern world required to make her way in life. It was not in her nature, for example, to argue or even strongly disagree with her elders, those in a position of authority, or even those of strong will and spirit. Though a friendly girl, she was easily cowed by a harsh word or raised voice.
She spent most of her time reading. She read romances, books about stars and the universe, and sometimes science fiction books which featured strong willed, powerful women who captained space ships and were just as strong and capable as men. Justine liked to imagine herself like that, but knew she wasn't brave enough.
Justine, as it happened, was an extremely attractive young woman. Her brown hair was dark and glossy, silken in texture and always perfectly brushed, parted at the centre of her forehead, spilling gently down the sides of her head to frame her delicate face, falling to her shoulder in back and curling in slightly towards her jaw at the sides. She had a slender face with soft brown eyes and slightly upturned nose. Her smile was shy, demure, and often hesitant, as if she were uncertain if amusement were permitted, yet it exposed perfect white teeth and turned up the corners of her full, sensuous lips.
She was a slim girl, with narrow shoulders, and hips (though well rounded), a tiny waist, and a round, boyish bottom. Her breasts were on the small side of normal, but due to her slender chest they seemed much more full than would otherwise by the case. They were exceptionally firm, however, even for a girl barely into adulthood, with areolas barely darker or larger than the tiny pink nipples they surrounded.
Occasionally, Justine would gaze at herself in the mirror and be anxiously pleased that she seemed pretty, that her hair was as lovely as it was, that her face was sweet, her complexion clear and that her body was slender.
More rarely she would, when dressing, pause to look at herself in the nude, hesitant, almost embarrassed to do so, and feel a strange little quivering sense of pleasure that she looked sexy. Though sexy was not a very well defined concept to her, even at eighteen. The topic had not been one the traditional education had considered necessary or even desirable for a young lady.
That summer, on returning from Switzerland, her mother permitted her to shop for a new wardrobe. It would be much hotter in LA in the summer than she was used to, and so her mother advised her to buy lighter summer clothes. Justine spent considerable time at the mall buying shoes, skirts, tops and dresses, and enjoying herself thoroughly. She bought light, loose, linen and cotton trousers, with a few tighter, more form fitting khakis. Her skirts were all minis, for that was what her European friends all wore, and she never considered that they might be more rarely worn in conservative America. Especially since all the girls on television wore minis.
And, of course, she bought bathing suits, for while swimming was not a frequent or common recreation in Switzerland it was reputed to be so in California. It was while she was examining swimsuits that the saleswoman approached her. She was holding a pale yellow one piece up against her body and examining herself in the mirror.
The saleswoman was a blonde, though a fake one, of perhaps thirty five or so. She had long legs and a comfortable chest inside a blue tank top.
“No, no, no,” she said, her words startling Justine, who turned in surprise to find the woman standing behind her. “The colour is all wrong for your complexion and the style is wrong for your body type.”
She took it from Justine's hands and tossed it back in the pile, then led her further along the counter to where the bikinis were. “With your long, slender body, dear, you really must wear a two piece,” she said.
Justine had no difficulty allowing the woman to pick through the suits and take several, following her around the counters. She was used to being told what to do and what to wear by adults and persons with even tentative authority. And though she had technically achieved the age recognized by society as that of an adult her mind had not yet made the shift from obedient girl to self-confident woman.
“Come, dear, and we'll try these on,” the woman said, taking her arm and leading her towards the dressing rooms.
Again, Justine didn't question her, following along to the changing room area, and taking the bathing suits the woman handed her as she stepped through the small door.
The first suit she tried on was black. It was a thong, as they all were, but that caused her only minimal hesitation, for she had grown up in Europe.
The woman didn't wait to hear her reply but pushed through the door. Justine stepped back a pace, blushing a bit as the woman examined her.
“Turn around, dear,” she said brusquely, gripping Justine's arm and turning her.
She reached down and slipped two fingers into the top of the thong, tugging it upwards, and went “Hmm.”
Justine swallowed as the tug pulled the crotch up harder against her soft mons.
“I don't like this back,” the woman said, letting her hand slide gently across the downy flesh of Justine's buttocks. “Your bottom is so shapely, it needs a higher cut waist in back.”
She turned her again, guiding the girl by the upper arm, and examined the bra cups. She slipped a finger into each cup, incidentally brushing across her nipples, and tugged on them.
“I think a small cup,” she said.
“But this I my size,' Justine said uncertainly, her lower belly strangely fluttering at the woman's intimate touches.
“I know, dear. I know. But not all of the manufacturers are as dutiful in keeping to the proper measurements. Try on this blue one.”
Again she turned Justine, and her hand flicked the clasp at the back of the bra so it came apart. Then she tugged the bra up over her head and hung another over her neck before Justine could even react. Justine stood there, somewhat embarrassed but not doing anything but raising her hands uncertainly. The woman pulled the straps back behind her back and snapped the clasp, then turned her again.
“Better,” she said.
She reached into the left bra cup and squeezed Justine's breast, adjusting it in the cup, then drew her hand back. Justine gasped in surprise, but still did nothing as the woman adjusted her right breast in a similar manner. Only the doctor at school had ever touched Justine's breasts, and she felt quite embarrassed, even as the flutter in her lower belly grew stronger. Though it made her quite uncomfortable it did not really occur to her that the sales woman was behaving in an inappropriate manner and should not have been touching her.
“Much better,” the woman said brusquely, examining the bikini top.
It was smaller than the other, and tighter. The tiny triangles covered the centres of her breasts, but left the inner curves bare, and did not entirely pull back to the ribs on the sides, so that the soft pale flesh of the sides of her breasts were visible.
“Now try this bottom.”
Justine hurriedly slid the thong down herself and stepped out of it, then took the new thong and slid it up her thighs. The waistband was more steeply angled at both front and rear, and the small triangle of material at the top of the cleft of her buttocks was much smaller. So, for that matter, was the small triangle of material over her groin in front. It was so low that it covered only her small sex, and exposed some of her downy pubic hair above.
“You'll have to shave a little lower,” the woman said, tugging lightly on her pubic hair. “In fact, you really ought to just have this removed. Go to an electrolysis or laser hair removal place and have it removed permanently.”
She ran her finger along the top, through Justine's pubic hair. “See how it gently cups your pubic mound while the straps lead the eyes downwards?' she asked, smiling. “Yet you are well-covered, there, for the material is thick enough not to pull in between the lips of our sex.”
Her finger slid down the centre of the suit and rubbed lightly back and forth against the material over Justine's pussy opening. Justine gasped and started, and almost protested, yet the woman's word sand demeanour were quite casual. Perhaps, she thought anxiously, it was only she who thought there was anything untoward about the woman's finger tracing the line of her sex. Perhaps sales women commonly did such things in swimsuit stores in California.
But it was making her feel quite breathless and causing her legs to go quite quivery.
The woman stepped back and turned Justine to the side, then put a hand on her belly.
“Very nice,” she said. “Your body is nicely toned, and you have a great bottom.”
She squeezed Justine's bare bottom admiringly and the girl blushed.
“This suit is you,” she said.
“Isn't the top a little small?” Justine asked timidly.
“Small? Girl, you want something that shows you off! You're only young once, after all. Besides, this suit being black, they won't really be able to see your nipples very well, so best give them something else to look at, eh?”
Justine looked at her blankly.
“Least I don't think they'll show very well. Let's see.”
She licked her fingers and tugged one of the cups aside. She didn't have to tug it far to exposed Justine's nipple, and then to Justine's shock, she brought her moistened fingers together against the small pink button and rolled and pinched it a little to harden it. She was on the edge of protesting when the woman stopped and tugged the suit back up.
“See? You can't really notice unless you're up close and really look.”
Justine blinked her wide eyes.
“The material is strained somewhat, but not too tight against your breasts.”
Her hands cupped Justine's breasts, squeezing them gently as she smiled over her shoulders, meeting Justine's wide eyes in the mirror.
“Now did you want a second one?”
Justine shook her head hurriedly.
It never occurred to her to wonder why the woman had come into the changing room with her, though she thought that perhaps she should not have stroked her nipples in such a familiar fashion. But it was simply not part of her makeup to really question what people did, even if it did make her uncomfortable.
She took the suit with her other things and drove home, all in all, quite pleased with her day's shopping.

The problem of Justine's sheltered life became apparent that summer. A gentle girl, Justine had decided to go to university and study Astronomy, for she had always appreciated the quiet, serenity of the universe above the hurly burly world around her. Unfortunately, it emerged that while St. Gwendolyn's had done an excellent job teaching her art appreciation, cooking, posture, table manners, fashion and the three “R's, including Latin, it had done rather less well in teaching American history, knowledge of which would be helpful in taking her SAT exams for entrance to university.
So Justine, in her innocence, simply applied for a local high school course given during the summer, to young persons who, like herself, had somehow not been properly educated in the requirements dictated for high school. It did not occur to her as she did, to consider what manner of young person might be attending with her, and why, despite their not having attended school in a foreign country, they had been insufficiently educated to the point they were required to attend school during the summer vacation period.
Because she had never learned to drive at boarding school, Justine's first exposure to the less protected elements of life arrived on the bus to school her first morning. She was clad in a light summer dress, one she had recently purchased but never worn, and carrying with her several notebooks, a pencil holder, a paperback dictionary, and a box lunch. These she managed to place together and hold under one arm as she stood on the crowded bus holding onto an overhead strap.
Because her mother had disliked the California summer heat, she had taken a chalet in Switzerland during summer months, and Justine had joined her there during the school holidays. Her short time at her air conditioned home, and in similarly equipped shops and cars, had taught Justine little about what to expect, and so Justine was poorly equipped for the heat that day.
She had begun to perspire the moment she had left the house, and by the time she reached the bus stop many blocks away Justine's light summer frock was, in places, pressed very tightly against her soft, warm flesh. The bus, when she finally got on, was worse, for the air conditioning was not working
Justine stood, panting, swaying, occupying a tiny space between the body of an enormous, fat Black woman and a greasy looking, long haired man wearing a soiled undershirt and baggy jeans. Her eyes were half closed as she breathed in shallow breaths, the heat and sweltering humidity robbing her of energy. When she felt a hand on her belly her eyes jerked open and she gasped softly.
She was staring over the shoulder of the fat black woman, and as the hand rubbed softly at her belly her heart began to pound and her pulse raced, and a red flush crept over her face. The hand was coming from behind her. She tried to look over her shoulder without being obvious, but with her left arm held up to hold onto the strap that proved impossible. A braver girl would have whirled around and confronted whomever it was, but to Justine, the thought of meeting the eyes of whoever was touching her was just too embarrassing.
The fat woman was blocking her way ahead, and the bus was just turning onto a freeway, which meant it was not about to suddenly stop - even if she could reach the bell.
She stood, tense to the point of trembling, biting her lip, eyes rolling from one side to the other as the hand gently caressed her moist stomach through the thin summer dress. It went away, and she felt a momentary relief, but then her eyes widened even further as the hand slid onto her bottom and began to squeeze her buttocks through the thin dress.
This was much more embarrassing than having a hand on her stomach, and Justine turned beet red, her ears hot as she tried to think of what to do. One of her teachers had once told her to simply ignore girls who were teasing her. The theory behind it was that if they didn't get a rise out of her they'd get bored with their teasing. It hadn't really worked very well, but it was very much in keeping with her meek personality, and so she had been reacting to teasing and other unpleasant situations in the same way for more than a decade.
But it was very hard to ignore the hand as it squeezed and caressed her bottom through the thin material. She managed it because her only alternative was to create a big, humiliating scene. As soon as the bus stopped she would get off, and that would be that.
The hand went away, and then it slid onto her belly again, caressing her flat tummy, then sliding upwards. The higher it moved the faster her heart pounded, until, as it slid gently up over her left breast she thought the people standing nearby must surely be able to hear it pounding away like a drum.
But no one appeared to notice anything as the hand began to knead her breast. She tried to turn away, but she could not move her position enough and still hold onto the strap. So she had no alternative but to stand in place and pray the bus would stop, that people would move, that she could move away before someone noticed.
The hand was not squeezing her quickly or strongly. In fact, aside from the humiliation burning through her mind the hand actually felt - nice. And she blushed even more deeply when she realized her nipple was hard and that the mysterious stranger who was fondling her must notice due to the thinness of her dress.
Sure enough she felt the fingers rubbing at her nipple, then stroking and pinching it lightly. Her heart was still pounding, but now she felt a strange dark heat between her legs.
The hand slid down her stomach and rubbed her lightly between the legs, then glided down her left leg, and up the inside. She gasped as she felt the hand slide slowly up and down her inner leg, climbing higher along her thigh. She tried to snap her legs shut but almost immediately lost her balance and was forced to spread her feet apart again. Even as she did so she felt the hand stroke up along her inner thigh and rub against her panty covered pussy.
She snapped her thighs closed again, but only succeeded in trapping the hand between them. The thumb was pressed up along her groin while the rest of the hand was pushed in between her thighs and rubbing at her sex. Then the thumb curled under and slid in under the elastic band to stroke directly across her warm mons.
Justine was a virgin.

Author Information

Argus is a man with long experience and credits in the publishing world. He has had almost two hundred novels published in the United Kingdom and The United States, by such publishers as Beeline, Star, Nexus, Chimera, Silver Moon, and Olympia. He has also been published in dozens of magazines.


Publisher Information

This story has been self-published by the author

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