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In 1845, Headmistress Frances Conway retired shortly after her seventy-third birthday. For the past twenty years, she had a misbehaving boy to entertain her quim.

Even in her last years; yes, when she was in her seventies, there was a misbehaving boy's tongue enjoying her quim. More than once, when that boy left, he had a wet spot on the front of his pants. Miss Conway was overjoyed that her quim was still tasty enough to excite a young man.

There were always misbehaving boys who needed punishment. Boys caught with filthy magazines; boys caught masturbating. She always found one who answered the questions correctly: ‘have you thought about tasting my quim?'

When Miss Frances Conway retired, she was replaced by forty-five-year-old Miss Jane Pearson, considered the leading authority on young men's education in the British Empire.

Two years after her appointment as headmistress of the Wilkinson School, the retired Miss Conway requested an audience with her. Miss Pearson smiled when Miss Conway explained how as headmistress, she might consider taking on a boy, already wise in the ways of sexual satisfaction. . . "and I know this may sound crass, but I always ask them if they thought about tasting my quim."

Jane Pearson smiled because in the last few months, she'd encouraged young George Atwood to please her quim while on his knees.

Victorian England cracked down on the most blatant forms of public nuisances. Among these was prostitution. Young Mr. Atwood was caught in the company of a well-known streetwalker. He'd paid her a few shillings for her services. To be clear, the police caught him with his pants down in a dark alley with the woman on her knees; it was the first time he'd been caught. It was perhaps the twentieth time the woman in question was caught.

George Atwood begged the police not to arrest him; begged them not to bring him to his parents' home. After all, his father was a minister. "What shall we do with you?" the police asked.

"Please, let the headmistress punish me." He had no idea how that simple suggestion would change his life.

The police had a difficult time trying to explain to the headmistress what they caught George Atwood doing; actually, having done to him, when he was caught. They tried to explain it without explaining it. Miss Pearson, a spinster, may have never married, and a virgin, but she was not oblivious to the world around her. Like her predecessor, she perused the decadent novels found under the boys' mattresses.

Some of those novels were so depraved that she did more than peruse them. She stayed up all night reading them from cover-to-cover. Her knickers were saturated and her fingers worn out by morning.

"Thank you, constable. I'll see that he's properly punished. I will not have the reputation of the Wilkinson School destroyed by the likes of Mr. Atwood."

His punishment: "Mr. Atwood, have you considered tasting my quim?"

The very morning of Miss Conway's arrival, George Atwood, with his head under Miss Pearson's skirt, had his tongue worming in and out of her thick, dark bush. "Mr. Atwood, your tongue does wonders to my quim," she moaned, as his tongue found that most sensitive spot again. "OOOOOOOOOH, OOOOOOH, OOOOOOOOH," she moaned. "Mr. Atwood, your tongue, oh your tongue makes me so happy."

George Atwood's tongue went on and on. Miss Pearson's face was still flushed when her predecessor arrived.

It became part of the tradition of the Wilkinson School that the outgoing headmistress inform her successor of the practice. A secret tradition among the headmistresses of Wilkinson who passed it on to the current nurse at the Cavendish School for Young Women.

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