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Chapter 6. In which Sarah begins her schooling
Sarah woke with a start. She shot up in bed, disorientated. It took the bewildered teen a moment to remember where she was, the sight of a room full of naked girls emerging from their beds helping to cement her in time and space. The nudity of the pretty teens also reminded her of her own lack of clothing and she pulled the sheet up over her breasts.
Sarah couldn't believe that she had slept so soundly. She had not dreamed at all, at least she couldn't remember any of them. The last thing she remembered was looking at the ceiling and hearing the French girl pleasure herself under the covers. She lay back in bed and looked at the ceiling, the magnificent skylights allowing her to see the beautiful azure sky as they flooded the room with early morning sunlight. She watched as clouds skidded across the pale morning sky. She could stay in bed all day and watch this, she thought.
"Port, come on," urged a voice to her right.
Sarah looked over to see Murphy, already out of bed, toilet bag in hand. She sat up in bed again and noticed that most of the girls had already left the dorm.
"Hot water starts when the gate opens at six. Just ten minutes as usual."
Sarah almost jumped up out of bed. She was reticent to leave not only the comfort of the bed, and it was a wondrously comfortable mattress, but also the cover of the sheets. She dreaded walking around unprotected again. The amazing naked body of her alabaster-skinned friend, so close and so exposed did nothing but reinforce Sarah's own concerns about her lack of covering. She grabbed her bag and scurried into the showers remembering, with slight annoyance, to register her tag at each door.
She joined the other girls already lathering their bodies under the steaming water, jetting from all ten showerheads. Sarah sought out Murphy’s white form amongst the girls but noticed she was already sharing a showerhead with another girl. There was a space free next to the large-breasted girl called Mitchell that Murphy had pointed out to her last night. Sarah hung up her small mesh bag on her hook, noticing that all the cloth bags containing their clothes had been removed during the night.
"Hi I'm Mitchell," the buxom girl smiled at Sarah.
"Porter," Sarah offered.
"You're little," Mitchell stated, looking down at Sarah as she continued to run her blue-gloved hands over her body.
Sarah wasn't sure how to react. She knew she was the smallest girl here but Mitchell was only about five foot four. It wasn't like she towered over her. Sarah put on her own set of gloves from the alcove under the shower-head. It seemed like the gloves were just for universal use and obviously one-size fits all. She began washing herself, running the rough gloves over every inch of her flesh. When it came to washing between her legs she made sure to be quick. The rough gloves felt amazingly good on her sex and she didn't want any of the other girls to think she was playing with herself if she lingered.
"You're American?" questioned Mitchell as she ran her hands over her large breasts. Sarah marvelled at their size. They were clearly the largest of any girl in Trinity house. They were easily D but looked really good on her frame: broad-shouldered and thin-waisted, a real hourglass figure.
"Yeah I am," Sarah replied, continuing to watch as Mitchell washed her breasts, lifting them up and sliding her hand underneath. They were nowhere near as pert as her own breasts Sarah observed, but they were still pretty firm, almost as if the skin was having trouble holding them all in.
"You don't sound like a real American. Do you live in Hollywood?"
"No, I used to live in Washington." What the hell was a real American, Sarah thought.
"I would live in Hollywood. Do you like school?"
"Yes."
"I don't. I want to act and knowing how to spell or who the Prime Minister is won't help that. Do you like movies?"
"Yeah I guess," replied Sarah, now slightly bewildered by the barrage of nonsensical questions.
"I do too. Do you like Angelina?"
"Um yeah she's ok I guess."
"I do. I want to be just like her. I wanted to dye my hair like hers but my guardian said no. He has weird ideas, he wouldn't let me get a tattoo either."
"One minute," one of the girls yelled.
Thank god for that thought Sarah. She managed to quickly rinse off and get out of the showers before the hot water ran out, meeting up with Murphy after they had both snatched towels from the pile. Murphy was all smiles.
"Sorry Port, I saw you got caught up with Mitchell. Did she get started on Angelina Jolie?
"Yeah," cringed Sarah.
"Obsessed much."
Both girls laughed as they continued to dry their hair. Sarah started to notice a weird noise coming from the gaggle of naked teens to her left. She looked at Murphy, eyebrows raised.
"Hair dryer," she answered the unasked question. There's just the one and we try to all have a fair go, best to get your hair as dry as you can first."
"Why didn't we use it last night?"
"It's only turned on for the morning shower. It's not like a normal one, it's just a big tube from the wall but it gets the job done. I brush my hair and use a towel while I wait, then I just use it to finish it off."
Sarah retrieved her brush with Murphy and waited her turn at the dryer. As the other girls started to disperse she got her first glimpse of the humming contraption. Murphy's description was pretty much spot on. It was just a big piece of ribbed tubing snaking from a hole in the wall down near the floor.
The tubing was around three feet long. Sarah could see a white section of plastic flipped up to reveal the hole in the wall into which it was plugged. It was currently being used by an Asian girl, bent over at the waist to allow the tubing to reach her hair.
Sarah waited a minute or two until the Asian girl finished and it was Murphy's turn. She watched as her friend took the tube and bent over and began to dry the remnants of moisture from her thick burgundy hair. Sarah could not help but notice the tight pink labia of Murphy's vagina poking out between her legs. There was no hair on her sex itself, just a thin thatch of red curls on her mons. The young girl looked casually around the room and then glanced back at the peeking pussy. She could only see Murphy's outer lips, those delicate inner folds hidden entirely. Sarah knew that this is what hers would look like when she went to dry her own hair and she blushed at the mere thought of it.
She didn't want to be accused of anything perverted so she stepped to the side, but even there she was treated to a view of Murphy's pure white breasts hanging pendant beneath the teen’s bent body, pale blue veins visible beneath the alabaster skin. She watched as Murphy's shiny red hair was blown in waves around the teen’s head and bent body. It was beautiful, almost cinematic she thought.
Murphy straightened up and handed the tube to Sarah to use. She hesitatingly bent over and began to dry her hair, knowing what a sight she was causing for the remaining girls waiting. She focused on drying her hair as quickly as possible so she could straighten up and get out of there. Once dry she handed the tube to the next girl, moved away and brushed her hair a few last times in the mirrors over the basin to ensure it was looking nice. She had to admit, the gentle blowdrying action of the air from the tube had made her slightly wavy hair look beautiful and soft. It cascaded down across her shoulders, seeming even fuller than usual. It just wasn't long enough to fully come down and cover her chest though, at the front the tips just brushing the top her breasts.
Sarah left the shower room, picking up her bag on the way. When she got back to the dorm she noticed it was a hive of activity, her classmates in various states of undress. It was definitely a sight to see: seventeen girls all getting dressed in the exact same clothes in the exact same way - socks, shoes, panties, bra, skirt, blouse, tie.
Sarah made her way to her own cupboard and began to clothe herself. She was soon standing once again in the high heels, the familiar stretching sensation in her calves was back but it did not seem to be as bad as the day before, but then again Sarah thought, the day hasn't even really begun yet. At least there would be a lot of sitting during class she thought. As she slipped her panties up her legs she tried to get an idea of the day ahead.
"So what happens next Murph?"
"Breakfast is at seven sharp. We have to be in the food hall by then, not just getting there. We get served before all the other girls, which is pretty good. Today is different though, because after that I guess we have class. Up till now we have just been spending our days together, mostly in the lounge so I'm not really sure."
Sarah continued to dress, adjusting her breasts into her bra and quickly adding her skirt, blouse and tie. She had noticed that all the other girls with long hair had put theirs up in ponytails so Sarah took the hairband she had been issued and followed suit, leaving a few stray strands to frame her face, as the hair was a little too short around her fringe to make it into the tail.
The uniformed teen then stepped over to join Murphy at the big mirror at the end of the dorm. This was the first time she had a chance to see herself in uniform. What a sight she made. From head to toe she looked the quintessential schoolgirl. Sarah had to admit that she did look cute in the uniform. She actually doubted that anyone from her old school would even recognise her out of her baggy, layered clothing.
Her legs were slim and the high heels made them seem even more toned. The bands of colour on her legs looked more than a little sexy: white socks to the knee, then the flesh of her thigh until it met the blue of her pleated skirt. The blouse was tight across her chest and the pretty sleeves high up on her arms accentuated her lithesomeness.
Sarah looked herself in the eye. She definitely did look cute, from her straight, small button nose, her pouty lips framing her little mouth to her wide brown eyes. But the whole look was ruined by the small metal tag dangling from her left ear. Sarah could not help but focus on it. It was the only piece of jewellery she was wearing and it hung so prominently when her hair was up.
"Port you are so cute," observed Murphy standing next to her, watching her in the mirror.
"Thanks Murph," Sarah blushed. "You are beautiful though. You could so be a model." This was not just empty flattery. Sarah thought the Irish teen was one of the most beautiful girls she had ever seen, much more attractive than half the stick-thin, so called supermodels.
"Ah Port, not sure about that. Who would want to do that, having people perv on you all day and just stand around wearing weird clothes."
Both girls laughed and headed out of the dorm, ready for their first day of school.
"Don't we have to make our beds?" inquired Sarah, seeing the 18 dishevelled beds in the dorm.
"Nah, they are made by the maid. It's great, it's like being in a hotel. We haven't seen her do them but a couple of girls got a glimpse of her one day. She was in a proper uniform too, you know those little black and white things they used to wear in the olden days. She even had the little hat on. It was so cool," Murphy described enthusiastically.
All the girls were just hanging around in the lounge, sitting on the platforms or standing in small groups. Sarah wondered why they hadn't already headed down to the food hall, so she asked her friend.
"Well we have to get there before seven but it's still a quarter to. We have to get there before but not too much before. A few of the girls got in trouble one day because they were just milling around too early. They each got an infraction for that."
"What are those Murph? They go on our permanent record but what do we get from them, detention or something.”
“Not sure. We all have one. Most of the girls have one, I think Mitchell has two though."
Sarah's heart sank. Most of the girls have one, she had said. And how many did she have? Nine or was it ten?
"How many do you have Port, probably none, hey, seeing as you were only here for an afternoon."
"Um, I have nine I think," replied the crestfallen teen.
'Holy shit," exclaimed her friend. "I am so sorry. Maybe it won't be so bad seeing that school hadn't even started yet," Murphy said with little conviction.
"Shh, here comes Miss Peach," whispered one of the girls.
Every schoolgirl stood instantly at attention. In one second the humiliation of the previous day was slammed back into the forefront of Sarah's brain.
"What is going on here?" bellowed Miss Peach. "Why aren't you lined up? This isn't some lazy holiday. School has started. Haven't any of you slovenly girls read your school rules? Now get lined up. Two lines in front of the door. One to nine here, ten to eighteen here."
There was a frantic shuffling as the girls moved themselves into the positions they had been shown, lining up according to the numbers assigned to their beds.
"Right line move to your right, closer to the other. Keep moving, closer. Until you are almost touching," commanded the housemistress, her stern voice accompanied by the sounds of nine pairs of high heels shuffling on the hard wooden floors.
"Tighten up the lines, close those gaps. You should be close to the girl in front but not touching."
There was more shuffling as the girls took tiny steps forward to close the gaps producing two near solid lines of uniformed teen flesh.
"Before scanning you are to state your student number, loudly and clearly. If there is any discrepancy between your number and the readout you are to report to me immediately. Now because of your time wasting you are going to have to hurry to get to breakfast on time. You will move out in order, remaining in orderly lines, no running. Once you have cleaned up after breakfast you are to report back here. Move it."
The first girl exploded into movement, quickly stating her number, scanning her tag and moving off briskly down the corridor. Each girl followed, seemingly in a game of follow the leader. Down the corridor and two flights of stairs the extended line of schoolgirls snaked, ending at the door to the food hall where the two identical columns of girls reformed.
Sarah was desperately hoping they had arrived in time, she assumed the punishment for lateness was missing out on the meal as she had done last night with dinner. She was ravenous now, having not eaten anything for more than 16 hours. She realised if she had looked at the clock before leaving the lounge she would know if they had made it. She cursed herself for not remembering and she was angry that she had let herself down. She had to start early in reversing that behaviour.
There was a metallic clang from inside the food hall and the lines of girls were moving. Obviously this was the signal that breakfast was served, the bewildered teen mused. She glanced at the clock as she entered and there it was seven o'clock on the dot. Her classmates moved directly to the front of the hall, each girl picking up a plastic tray as they moved along the bench.
Behind the counter there were four women. Mrs Lancaster was the only one Sarah recognised. There seemed to be three stations. At the first Sarah was handed a bowl of porridge. It was a lumpy goop the colour of cream. She had heard of porridge but she had never had it. Wisps of steam rose from the hot contents of the plastic bowl. Next a piece of doughy bread was added to the tray and lastly a small glass of orange juice. Sarah picked up a plastic spoon and left the counter, following the girl in front of her.
It seemed the girls were headed to the very far corner of the room. When Sarah arrived she noticed that these two tables were different from the rest in the room. All the other tables had plastic chairs. They were now all situated under the tables but Sarah had seen them all stacked neatly atop them last night when she had watched her handler devour a late supper.
But the two tables that the Trinity girls were seating themselves at had small, round plastic stools that extended from the floor on single metal poles. They were obviously not movable. As the other girls seated themselves, Sarah noticed that the stools were set back from the tables causing each girl to lean forward to eat their meals.
Sarah positioned herself on the stool next to Murphy, placing her tray on the table in front. As she sat down she noticed that the flesh of her bare buttocks was in contact with the stool. She looked down the row and noticed the skirts of all the girls flared out behind the stools, completely hiding the round plastic seats, creating the illusion that the girls were sitting on the poles themselves. The sensation was strange, she knew she was clothed but the feeling of her bare buttocks on the seat made her feel like she wasn't wearing anything at all.
"We reckon it's to stop the spillage of food on our uniforms but we are the only house who uses these seats so... It's one of those weird things Port and as you are noticing there's quite a few,” volunteered her friend as she stirred her porridge.
Sarah looked at the other girls already eating their breakfast and decided it was best to start. She leant forward on the stool and dipped her spoon in the porridge. She noticed that to eat properly she had to lean quite a way forward and to spread her knees a little to keep her balance. The first spoonful of porridge she brought to her mouth looked dreadful. It honestly looked like something someone had already eaten and spat out, but it smelt quite nice and when she finally tasted it she was pleasantly surprised. It was nice and sweet, completely at odds with the way it looked.
Sarah was soon joining the other girls in greedily devouring the small morning meal. It was not long before her bowl was almost empty and she was using her piece of thick doughy bread to clean up the last few bits sticking to the side.
She had to admit, she might not have sat more uncomfortably to have breakfast but she had rarely had a better tasting one. She was beginning to sip her orange juice, which still contained the pulp, just the way she liked it, when the other girls from the school started to meander through the doorway in ones or twos. Sarah sat back on her stool and watched the other Harkwood girls.
She was about to turn to Murphy to ask a question when she glanced under her table. She was shocked to discover that she could see straight up the skirt of the girl opposite. She could see the girl’s white panties as they met the black base of the stool, the flesh of bare thighs compressed against the smooth plastic seat. Sarah's eyes flicked along under the table as far as she could see from this angle and saw another two pairs of white panties framed by the spread thighs and taut blue school skirt. This was what she must have looked like while eating her breakfast. She lowered her eyes as she felt her face start to heat up. All thoughts of talking to her friend momentarily forgotten in her humiliation.
The lunchroom soon filled with the sounds of hundreds of girls chattering away. Sarah finished her orange juice and turned to Murphy who was watching the girls from the other houses. She was about to speak when she noticed one of the Trinity girls at the second table stand. Sarah glanced up and noticed that Mrs Lancaster was coming towards their tables.
Sarah stood up, stepped behind her stool and stood at attention. She looked straight ahead, into the eyes of the girl across the table. The pretty teen gave her the briefest of smiles. Sarah didn't even know her name, she would have to make more of an effort throughout the coming days to get to know the other girls in her house. She couldn't just stick with Murphy the whole time.
"Morning girls."
"Morning Ma'am," all 18 Trinity girls intoned.
"I know you haven't been issued with your Trinity house manual yet so I am here to explain the Food Hall rules. Trinity house eats first at the breakfast meal. This is to allow you time to finish your meal before commencing clean-up duty. As soon as all the girls from the other houses have been served and seated you are to bring up your trays and then you can begin to clear the tables as the other girls finish. You will know when all the girls have been served when the small red light above the counter goes on, this denotes end of service.
"There are 18 stations around the walls of the room. They are all marked. You find your station and begin clearing tables as you see other students finish and leave. Don't worry about them dawdling over meals, they have places to be too. Place all empty trays on the counter, they will be dealt with by the staff. Once tables are clear they are to be cleaned and all chairs are to be neatly tucked underneath."
Sarah watched as the pretty girl’s face across from her moved into a frown. Obviously this had not been how the meals had gone here previously.
"You are to clear your sections first, and only then may you move on to other sections. Once all sections are clear you are to move back to your station and the staff will provide a final inspection. Once approved you are to move off to class. This hall must be spotless by 8:20. You don't leave until it is and if that means you are late for class then so be it. Is all that clear?"
"Yes Ma'am," the girls replied in unison.
With that she turned around and walked back into the kitchen. As she left, the Trinity girls sat down slowly, finishing their breakfasts if they had not already done so.
"Well that sucks, we have to clean up after everyone? Every time? This is getting stupid," said a pretty blonde girl at the end of the table.
Sarah looked at the tables around her, at the girls from the other houses. A number of them were looking at her with disdain and some groups were looking over and laughing, obviously making fun of the girls from Trinity house, the small group of girls at the school that were treated so differently.
Honestly, thought Sarah, there better be some pretty good payoff for all this. Hopefully a guaranteed placement at some top university or something. Murphy just sat next to Sarah quietly pondering.
"Penny?"
"Sorry?"
"Penny for your thoughts," Sarah elaborated.
"Just thinking. She said after every meal but she didn't say for how long. I thought maybe it was a different houses turn every few weeks or something. Like a roster. But she said that there were specifically 18 positions. Eighteen girls in Trinity house. That's not a coincidence. It looks like we are stuck with this for good."
"Lights on," whispered someone. Almost as one the girls from Trinity house stood up. They all picked up their trays and moved through the tables full of other girls to the counter at the front of the room. As they moved past the tables they caught snippets of conversation, most of it about them and most of it derogatory. Sarah wasn't sure why, if it was only Trinity house doing all these humiliating tasks, the other houses had such dislike for them.
Once their trays were stacked on the counter the girls scattered throughout the room looking for their station. Sarah and Murphy stuck together, knowing that station three should be right next to station four. They headed straight for the walls and began to walk around the room.
Sarah soon noticed what the stations they were after looked like. She saw a small '16' stencilled on the floor. They continued walking along the wall of the room. The next number they saw was a '7'. It was then that it dawned on both of the girls that the numbers weren't in order. They looked across the room and noticed that the same realisation was being made by all the Trinity students, a collective epiphany. Sarah noticed that the Asian girl had found her station but she was the only one.
Sarah and Murphy began to move faster. They kept moving around the wall, trying to be systematic and ensure they found their station as fast as possible. Sarah noticed that Mitchell had panicked and was starting to move from one side of the room to the other looking for her number. She had sympathy for the girl but couldn't spare the time to help her.
There was '3'. Murphy clasped Sarah's hand and squeezed before standing at attention facing into the room. They hadn't been told to stand at attention but it made sense, with staff and prefects possibly moving around the room. She had to walk past two more empty stations and another that was occupied by the tall black-haired teen before she found the '4' stencilled on the ground. Sarah dutifully stood at attention. Her eyes rested briefly on the clock, it read 7:46. She hoped that the seated schoolgirls would hurry up and finish their breakfast as she wasn't sure how long it would take to clear all these trays.
It was then that she saw Mitchell still frantically moving around looking for her station. Sarah watched with relief as the large-breasted teen noticed the only empty spot around the walls and hurried there.
They didn't have long to wait before the other girls began to get up from their tables and leave the food hall. Sarah began to watch her section, waiting for a table to be fully emptied. It was 7:54 and she had only just started to clear her section. She was worried now that they would not be able to clear the room in just over 20 minutes.
Sarah moved to her first empty table and collected all the bowls and spoons and glasses together on the one tray, stacking up all the empty trays underneath. She had stacked nine trays from her table before she started to take them up to the counter, making sure she carried them far enough away from her body to prevent her blouse getting dirty. As she arrived she noticed other girls were depositing their own stacked trays.
She turned and rushed immediately back to her station to clear her remaining tables. The last of the other students were exiting the food hall, leaving just Sarah and her housemates scurrying around the room clearing tables and busing trays. As she returned her second set to the counter she noticed Mitchell returning with one tray in each hand. Sarah couldn't believe that the stupid girl was bringing up only two trays at a time. They would be here all morning at that rate.
"Mitchell, stack the trays on top of each other like everyone else, see," Sarah pointed to the piles of stacked trays on the counter.
"Thanks," said the clearly distressed teen.
As she picked up a dishcloth from the counter Sarah wondered if Mitchell knew that she was dumb. She thought it must be terrible not to be able to comprehend such simple things. She wiped down the two tables she had cleared and pushed the chairs in under the tables, before moving on to the next table in her section. Sarah had worried about cleaning the whole room but almost all the trays had disappeared now and most girls were wiping down their areas with the small, damp cloth they had been issued.
Sarah took the last set of trays to the counter and hurried back to her section, cleaning and straightening the last two tables. She looked around and spotted a table in another section and went to wipe it down. It only took another couple of minutes before the rest of the room was cleaned and straightened. The eighteen teenagers moved back to their stations as they had been instructed. Sarah glanced at the clock, it was 8:16. They had done it. It was strange but Sarah felt a definite sense of achievement for completing the task.
Once all the girls were back on station, Mrs Lancaster and the other three women came out of the kitchen and began to walk around the room, checking each table.
"These chairs here are not straight. There are numerous tables with chairs out of alignment. The backs of the chairs have to be in a straight line with the table, one inch from the edge. Move it."
There was a mad scramble as girls rushed to fix the alignment of the chairs, desperately hoping to get it done in time. Each girl could only worry about her own section, there simply wasn't time to check too far afield. In only a minute all girls were back on station and standing at attention, hoping the second inspection had been passed. The four women critically eyed every table and chair.
"It will pass," conceded Mrs Lancaster and the four women walked back into the kitchen.
Sarah smiled and glanced quickly at the clock. Her spirits sank as she saw it was 8:22. They had competed their task, yes, but they had gone over time. She wasn't sure what would happen but as with failing to do anything she was sure it wouldn't be good. It occurred to all the girls at once that they had been dismissed and they hurried, almost as one unit, back to their dorm.
Miss Peach was waiting for them when they arrived.
"Your form class starts at 8:30. You had better hurry. Room 2C. Everyone be sure to take your studies box marked '11'."
All eighteen girls rushed the doorway to the dorm at once. There was an immediate bottleneck as they scrambled to register on the way in, snatch the larger of their two sealed boxes and head back into the lounge, the outgoing girls getting in the way of the incoming girls still trying to register. Sarah realised quickly how important being on time really was. The need to register between each doorway slowed things down immensely.
The scurrying gaggle of girls hurried out of the lounge and down the stairs. Sarah had no idea where room 2C was but luckily the building had a fairly linear plan. Their form room was the third room down the corridor from the first floor landing. When Sarah arrived the girls were all forming themselves into two neat lines. No one was sure they had to do this but it seemed it had simply started to happen.
There was a lot of shuffling and jockeying for position as the girls arrived in random order, each carrying the large cardboard box in front of them. There were no clocks in the corridor so it was impossible to tell if they were on time or late, or indeed if they were early and would have to wait. The two rows of tightly packed teenage flesh had only just settled down when a loud electronic bell sounded throughout the school. Sarah looked around but could not see any sort of loudspeaker system, but she assumed this was what was being used and the strangely muted sound was the call to class.
The door in front of them swung open. A tall, Amazonian figure stepped into the corridor to survey the silent and still group of girls. The woman was six foot tall with long, pitch-black hair that hung straight down, framing her angular face. She had a little dark mascara on each eye that gave her an exotic look. A look accentuated by her full figure. She was definitely a beauty, thought Sarah. Lucky she was in an all girl school, because the boys at her old school would be left drooling on their desks if they had her as a teacher.
“You each have an assigned seat. Proceed inside and stand next to your position.”
Her voice was strong and sonorous but her manner of speaking was crisp and clipped. It was an odd combination, thought Sarah. She was hopeful. She felt a good vibe from this woman. She couldn’t say why, and she laughed a little to herself for using the term ‘good vibe’ but she couldn’t think of any other way to put it.
The girls moved into the room in order, from one to eighteen, as their little experience so far today had shown them. Inside the room were eighteen desks arrayed in three rows of five and a final row, at the back of the room, of three. The first girl inside the room, scanned her eartag and moved to the far desk in the front row and stood at attention beside it. Each girl simply followed suit, filling up the desks from front to back.
Sarah had never seen a classroom like this one – it was definitely not what she was expecting. The other classrooms she had glimpsed on her tour last night had been the standard setup: rows of desks, blackboard at the front, teachers desk in the front corner and assorted cupboards and project stuff scattered around the walls. But this room was…well this room was something else.
The desks next to each girl looked more like something out of a science fiction movie than a school desk. They were made of a clear Perspex-like material and were shaped like a pushed over capital U, all curves and smooth lines. The top of the desk curved around to the right, allowing each girl to slip their legs under from the left. The contoured plastic split into two tines as it reached the floor, leaving the large space directly under the desk, where each girls feet would rest, open to the bare wooden floor.
The seat was once again a round black plastic stool, almost identical to those reserved for Trinity house in the food hall. The only difference Sarah observed as she took up her position at her desk was that here the metal poles seemed to slot directly into holes in the floor, not moulded into it as in the food hall.
At the front of the room was a raised platform, very much like those in the Trinity lounge but this one was rectangular, around four feet long and set out three feet from the front wall. Where the teacher’s desk was usually located was instead a high-backed beautiful red leather chair, inset with hundreds of brass studs. In the opposite corner at the front of the room sat a tall wooden stool, its four legs projecting the seat almost four feet off the ground. The far wall contained a number of large windows, under which was a row of cupboards that ran almost the length of the room.
The only real sense of normalcy the room had was a large blackboard at the front of the room. This was the most black black-board that Sarah had ever seen, it looked like it had never been used. The teacher stood by the door and watched each girl enter the room and stand by their desks. When the last girl was in position, she closed the door and moved over to stand by her chair.
"Sit," she commanded.
There was a noise of shuffling as each girl sat at her assigned stool and slid her legs under her desk. Sarah felt the familiar sensation of the bare flesh of her thighs and buttocks on the plastic surface under her. She knew that the stool each girl sat on would be completely hidden from view. The stiff pleats of each girl’s skirt flared past their ass just enough so that when they sat was there was no chance of folding it under them. Each girl, after adjusting herself on the small round seat, placed their large sealed cardboard box on the clear desk in front of them.
"Stand."
A few girls looked at each other but they all dutifully stood up and moved back to attention beside their assigned desks.
"Pick up those boxes. Who told you to place those boxes on your desks?" questioned the teacher imperiously. Not a girl answered. They all just stood there staring ahead worriedly. "That is correct girls, no one told you to place those boxes on your desks," purred the teacher as she paced back and forth in front of them. "Sit."
Once again all eighteen girls sat in unison, sliding their legs under the desks almost as if it was a choreographed. This time each girl made sure to hold the box in both hands above the clear surface of their desks.
"You will not be needing the contents of those boxes in this first form period so you will place them under the desk and between your feet but your feet are not to touch the boxes. We don't want your pretty shoes to be scuffed on the first day. Do so now."
Sarah twisted to her left and placed her box under her desk, slid her legs back under, straightening her right leg so it went over the top of the box. She looked down through her desk to make sure the box was in the middle and her feet were on either side. She was satisfied she had done it correctly and rested her arms on the top of her desk, waiting for the teacher’s next command.
"Stand," the command rang out through the classroom. "Pick up those boxes," the teacher bellowed.
Sarah groaned inwardly. What had they done wrong now? She leant down, grabbed her box and stood again beside her desk, wondering when they would be finally allowed to sit down and stay seated. The overbearing woman continued to pace back and forth in front of the confused teenagers.
"Do you girls understand the concept of standing at attention," she asked, stopping in front of the girl next to Sarah. "You Clark, answer."
"Yes Ma'am," replied the quivering girl.
"Enlighten us."
"It is when we have to stand up with our backs straight, our legs wide to our shoulders and our arms behind our backs."
"Hmmm, half right and sloppy," the teacher said disappointedly. She turned to Sarah, "Porter enlighten us with your knowledge."
"Ma'am standing at attention is the position a girl of Trinity house is to adopt when standing in the presence of a superior. It is standing with the feet shoulder width apart, backs straight, arms behind the back with elbows back and our hands are to rest in the small of our backs with the right palm in the left."
"Correct Porter, good girl. That is almost textbook."
Sarah inwardly beamed. This was her element now. She was a good student, all her teachers had always said so. When she got into the classroom her brain just kicked into gear. Her first chance to prove herself to her new teacher had gone so well she had been complimented. She was just a little surprised how comforting it was to be told she was a good girl. She figured that the previous day where nothing had gone right and where she had felt so vulnerable had put her in this delicate frame of mind.
"Do you all understand what Porter has just stated," the teacher asked the class.
"Yes Ma'am," they replied together.
"Sitting in class is no different. You are in the presence of a superior and you are to keep proper posture, not leaning slovenly all over your desks." Sarah cringed, knowing that she was one of the reasons they were standing up again.
"Sit."
Once all the girls had sat down on their meagre stools, they waited, holding their boxes out in front of them off the surface of the table. They waited, watching the teacher pace along the front of the room and down the side. As she passed their desks the girls could no longer watch her as to do so they would have to turn their head, something they all knew would get them in trouble. They all knew they were being watched and that if any girl’s box touched the desk they would be made to stand again.
As she sat holding her box off her desk, Sarah realised how degrading it was to be told to sit and stand and sit. It was like being treated like a dog. She hadn't thought about it while it was happening, she was too busy trying to do the right thing. The shame of being treated like that somehow made being called a good girl all the more important.
"Boxes down."
Sarah slid to the side again and went to place her box on the ground under her desk when she was stopped by the bellow of the teacher.
"Stand."
What now, thought Sarah. She had not even managed to get her box on the ground.
"Mitchell, when everyone else sits, you remain standing."
Sarah groaned inwardly. If they were going to be punished as a class for everything that one of them did wrong, with Mitchell there they would be here forever.
"Sit." Now it was getting tiresome Sarah thought as she sat once again, though now she was more consciously aware of being treated like a dog being trained. "Boxes down."
Sarah gently set her box under her desk, placed her feet to either side and took a quick glance down to make sure everything was correctly placed. She marvelled at the clear desktop that allowed her to do this but realised, just as she straightened up to sit at attention, just how she was sitting.
Her feet were on either side of the large sealed box, causing her legs to be spread widely creating a taut tent of skirt across the top of her thighs. She knew that as she sat up straighter and placed her hands in the small of her back that this would only accentuate the lewd position she was displaying. She began to feel the familiar flush of heat up her chest and throat as she thought of the teacher seeing her bare thighs creating a tunnel of flesh to her panty clad sex.
Sarah desperately wanted to lower her eyes in shame but she didn't want to be the cause of them having to repeat the whole process over again because she was not looking forward.
"Now Mitchell, do you see what happened when I said boxes down?"
"Yes Ma'am."
"Now what was different to what you did?"
"I put my box on the table and not under it Ma'am."
"Right first time, now sit," directed the teacher, emphasizing the last word. She was standing directly in front of Mitchell watching her every move.
"Box down."
Sarah heard the teacher move back to the front of the class and soon saw her move into view. She walked over and sat in the leather chair, crossing her legs and smoothing out the long flowing blue dress down her shapely calves.
"The one difference while sitting at attention in a classroom is your focus. You are here to learn and for that you need to focus on what is important. While I am speaking that is me." Instantly eighteen sets of eyes moved to the teacher.
“My name is Miss Watson. I am your form teacher, which means I will also be your primary teacher. What that means is that I will be taking many of your classes. Now form class is usually only 30 minutes in length and is used mainly for housekeeping issues. Seeing as how you have already wasted half this class however it seems that we will have to spill over into the first class, so you will be making that time up at the end of the day."
Sarah wanted to look at the clock, to see how much time had already elapsed but she realised the clock was on the back wall of the room.
"First order of each form class is dealing with infractions accrued since the previous form period." As she spoke, Sarah watched her open a drawer in the small cabinet next to her chair and flip up what looked like a laptop screen. "When I call your name come here, register at the scanner," at this she indicated a small stalk that projected from the top of the laptop screen that was blinking with red laser lights. "Then move onto the platform in the front of the room, facing the class.
"Olsen."
As her name was called the girl in the first seat stood up and walked hesitantly in front of the class. She leaned over to scan her tag as shown and stepped up onto the dais slowly, as the almost two-foot high step in high heels was not an easy one. Once she was up she turned around to face the class and stood at attention. Sarah could see the fear on her face. None of the girls really knew what to expect and being first was always the worst.
Sarah looked back to the teacher as she stood up. She moved around behind the leather chair and emerged with a long, thin supple piece of wood in her hand. Sarah's eyes widened in confusion and fear. She had dreaded that the school would have corporal punishment, she had read that quite a few schools in Europe still used it but the sight of that innocuous rod made her shiver in horror.
"This is a cane. This is what is used to help instruct you in understanding the rules we have at Harkwood and to help you realise the importance of their observance and the repercussions of the failure to do so."
Sarah's eyes never left the cane as Miss Watson swished it lazily through the air as she spoke. She was dreading what was to come but the sense of the inevitable was deadening her.
"For each infraction one stroke of the cane is received. Once ten infractions are accrued you will be set detention. If ten infractions are accrued in one session an extra five strokes are to be added to the correction. I can see from your faces that the importance of obedience and following rules is beginning to become clear.”
"Murphy, what is important to you?"
"Being obedient and following rules Ma'am."
"And getting good grades, doing well at your schoolwork. Is this important to you?"
"Yes Ma'am, it is very important."
"So Murphy what is important to you?" Miss Watson said, resting the tip of the cane on Murphy's desktop.
"Being obedient, following rules and doing well at my schoolwork Ma'am," replied Murphy desperate to give the right answer.
Sarah felt for her friend, knowing how confusing it was to be asked questions when you aren't sure of the answer. But to have an imperious Amazon of a teacher, casually menacing you with a cane must add a real element of fear to the confusion. Murphy had done really well to keep her composure, even though her voice had trembled a little.
"Porter, what is important to you?"
"Obedience, following the rules, excelling in my schoolwork and pleasing my superiors Ma'am," Sarah replied, hoping her embellishments were the right thing to say. They seemed right to her, it was how she felt.
"Well Porter those are the right priorities for a girl. Do you think you will be able to fulfil those claims?"
"Yes Ma'am," replied Sarah moving her gaze from the tip of the cane that rested on her desk to the face of her teacher.
She tried to keep the confidence in her voice but she was beginning to feel confused and unsure under the stern gaze of Miss Watson. Sarah could not look her teacher in the eye for long, instead looking at the moist pink lips as they crept into a smile. Sarah began to smile back but it faltered before it was fully realised. The smile on her teacher’s lips had no warmth in it and it made Sarah shiver.
"Olsen," Miss Watson snapped as she spun around to face the teen standing on the platform, the cane swishing in a wide arc. "As with everything for a girl of Trinity house there is a correct position for receiving correction. Turn around and face the blackboard. Put your ankles together so they almost touch. Now bend over at the waist."
Sarah watched as the first girl to go in front of the class and be caned bent over at the waist. She could see that the young girl was already shaking, her thighs visibly quivering as her skirt rode up and her upper body moved parallel to the ground.
"Flick your skirt up to rest on your back."
The now terrified teen reached back to comply, her shaking hands taking hold of her skirt on either side and drawing the stiff fabric up onto her lower back. Her ass was now bared to the class, the small white panties could be seen covering her sex. The sliver of tight material that went between her stretched buttocks before flaring out and framing her ass as they encircled her waist did nothing to cover her puckered anus. Sarah was horrified but could not look away.
"Place your hands around your ankles, your thumb and forefinger are to follow the ankle strap as a guide. Keep those knees straight," snapped Miss Watson tapping the back of the frightened schoogirl’s legs. The quivering knees instantly straightened. Miss Watson moved to the side of the girl, giving the whole class a perfect view of the elevated teenage ass and legs. Sarah was sitting slightly to the side and could just see Olsen's face, her eyes wide and panicked.
"Olsen, one infraction," Miss Watson read from the screen beside her chair. She walked back to stand beside the bent-over teen. She raised the cane and tapped it against the bare ass presented to the class. Olsen whimpered as the supple wood touched her tender flesh.
"Once in position you are to remain in position until ordered. After each stroke, you are to count the stroke aloud and thank your corrector. At the completion of the correction you are to stand up, turn around, face your corrector and thank them, curtsy and take your seat."
Miss Watson had not stopped tapping the cane against the buttocks of the exposed teen as she spoke. The vulnerable mounds of flesh were just below the shoulder height of the towering teacher. Without any warning Miss Watson swung the cane back in line with her body, pointing the tip at the class, and brought it down with force against the bared buttocks before her.
SWICK. The sharp sound of the cane hitting the tender flesh made every girl in the room cringe. It took a second for the pain to register through the surprise but the high pitched squeal unleashed by Olsen brought a tear to Sarah's eye.
"One, thank you Ma'am," Olsen sobbed obediently. She had managed to keep hold of her ankles, and to remain in position despite the pain that had rocked her body.
“If you break position, the stroke does not count. If you fail to count, the stroke does not count. If you fail to show respect to your corrector, the stroke does not count. If you fail to speak loudly and clearly, the stroke does not count.”
As Miss Watson made this speech every seated girl had their eyes glued to the quivering white skin of Olsen’s bare behind. A clear red welt was appearing directly across both cheeks. As they watched the welt became a raised ridge of throbbing pain, deepening in colour.
“Sit.”
Olsen straightened up gingerly, turned to face the class and tenderly stepped down off the platform. She turned to Miss Watson thanked her for being corrected, curtsyed and walked back to her desk. She sat gingerly, easing her aching behind onto the hard plastic stool.
“Cox. What an interesting name.”
The next terrified teen stood up, registered her tag and moved towards the platform. She knew what was coming now and she was already taking deep breaths, telling herself it would be ok. The comment about her name almost didn’t register, she had always copped a lot of flak for it but her mother had been to Harkwood and had even been in Trinity house and she was determined to make her proud. Cox stepped up onto the platform and immediately assumed the correct position, awaiting the terrible cane stroke she knew was coming.
“Cox, one infraction.”
SWICK. There was no preamble this time. Even though every girl knew it was coming, the harsh slap of the cane smacking into the delicate skin of the young girl made them jump.
“One, thank you Ma’am.”
“Sit.”
Cox straightened, curtsyed and thanked Miss Watson with quivering lips and took her seat.
“Murphy.”
Sarah looked at her friend as she mounted the platform and bent over, obediently exposing her milky buttocks and thighs. She looked more than ever like a doll made of fine china. Sarah didn’t want to watch this, but she knew she had to.
“Murphy, two infractions.”
SWICK.
“One thank you ma’am,” Murphy squeaked.
She had taken a tiny step forward with her right foot but managed to straighten up almost immediately. Sarah looked desperately to Miss Watson to see if that would be counted as breaking position. All she saw was the cane being drawn back again and this time she saw rather than heard the cane land.
It was almost as if time had slowed down. She saw the cane come rushing in to her friend’s vulnerable behind. She watched as the cane impacted the flesh of both cheeks, flattening them momentarily and creating ripples radiating through the soft flesh. Then time sped up and she heard the cry as the Irish teen felt the impact of her second stroke.
“Two thank you Ma’am,” she dutifully commented, though in obvious distress.
“Sit.”
Sarah watched her friend curtsy and sit down, trying to catch her eye, to lend her some support but Murphy kept her eyes downcast, small tear droplets visible as she blinked. Sarah’s heart went out to her new friend. She felt so sorry that she had to go through that and she desperately wanted to give her a hug.
“Porter.”
Sarah stood up gingerly. She had been so focused on the other girls, empathising with their plight, that she had all but forgotten that she was a girl in this class and that she would soon be expected to go through this ordeal. She moved to the scanner and waited for the beep before moving up to the dais. She was careful as she stepped up, ensuring her whole foot was flat and secure before stepping totally onto the platform. She took one step forward, took a deep breath and bent over, ensuring her legs were together. She reached back with trembling hands to pull her skirt up to rest on her back. She let out her breath and clasped her ankles firmly with her hands, being sure to keep her knees straight.
She immediately began to feel the strain of the position in her calves and the back of her thighs. She was not used to stretching this way, she couldn’t even remember the last time she had touched her toes. Now she had to wait. Her face had already flushed a deep crimson from the embarrassment of her position, showing her behind to the class, and especially her asshole, something she had never expected anyone else to ever see. Now waiting, bent over, she could feel the blood rush to her face as well. She had also felt her breasts shift in her bra, due to the design her breasts were actually hanging free at the moment, she hoped they would re-seat themselves when she stood up. The last thing she wanted was to have to fondle her breasts in front of the class.
“Porter, nine infractions.”
The class let out a collective gasp. They had just seen a girl receive two strokes of the cane. They knew that no one else had any more than two but the new girl, the girl that had been here less than a day had nine! Sarah could already feel the tears start to form. What would the other girls think of her now? She could talk the talk in class seemingly but she now appeared to be a troublemaker. She wanted to turn around and explain to the girls of her house that it wasn’t like that. She was still fretting over how the other girls felt when pain exploded in her plump buttocks.
The shock had taken her completely by surprise. She thought she would have at least heard some warning swish as the cane moved through the air. The pain felt like someone had taken a knife and slashed her. If she hadn’t already seen the affect the cane had on three other girls she would have been sure she was bleeding.
“One, thank you Ma’am.”
SWICK. The second stroke impacted her backside the instant she had finished speaking. Her left foot shuffled forwards slightly but the abused teen had the presence of mind to bring it back in line before responding to her second stroke.
CRACK. The third stroke left Sarah breathless. She almost choked as she tried to speak.
“Three, thank you Ma’am, “ Sarah croaked as loudly as she could.
“Can anyone tell me why Porter is having trouble speaking?” Miss Watson enquired of the horrified girls. “Raise your right hand to answer.”
“Carew.”
“Because she is in pain Ma’am?”
“Incorrect. Anyone else? No? Well surely she is in pain. That is the entire point of the correction, to impress upon you the importance of appropriate behaviour. Spare the rod and spoil the child. There is no better learning tool than the judicial application of pain for correction. Don’t you agree Olsen?”
“Yes Ma’am,” answered the morose girl, her backside still smarting from her solitary stroke. She could feel the heat from that single welt permeating the tender flesh of her buttocks. She felt thankful though that she was not Porter. She couldn’t imagine having her current pain multiplied by nine.
Miss Watson turned back to Sarah, still bent over, grasping her ankles. There were now three very clear and very red lines across her backside.
“Porter here is having trouble speaking because she is not breathing correctly. Proper breathing is extremely important for all activities.”
Sarah couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Now she was going to be told how to breathe as well? The poor girl was becoming lost in a sea of humiliation and pain. Knowing that seventeen girls could see her exposed bottom was almost as bad as the pain that was radiating from her backside, down her legs and up into her belly.
“During correction,” the teacher continued, “proper breathing is essential. The more prolonged the session of correction the more important this becomes. Are you listening Porter?"
“Yes Ma’am,” Sarah replied obediently.
She may have been rocked to her core by the pain of the cane but she was listening to every word her teacher spoke, desperate to not only prevent further punishment but to show her new teacher that she wasn’t the kind of girl who would incur so many infractions, really she wasn’t.
“Slow normal breathing. Breathe out fully after each stroke and breathe in before responding. There is no need to rush. Correction takes as long as it must.”
Sarah listened and put the lesson into practice immediately. She slowed her quick, shallow breathing down until she was breathing slowly and normally, fully charging her lungs with oxygen.
SMACK. She had only just taken a breath when it was pushed out of her by the shock of the next strike. One of the hardest things Sarah was dealing with was the unexpected nature of the caning. She did not know when each stroke was coming, there was no pattern or rhythm that she could decipher and adapt to.
Sarah took a deep breath to compose herself before fulfilling her part of each stroke, apart from standing there exposing her ass to be a target for the punishment. Sarah had begun to see the correction as a process in which each participant had their function. Her teacher was duty bound to provide the correction for wrongdoing and she was there to ensure that the effort was not wasted, her part was to accept the pain from the correction and learn from it, making her a better person. Her mind seemed so clear, she did not even second-guess her reasoning.
“Four, thank you Ma’am,” the young girl said, speaking loudly and clearly so her words carried to all the girls in the class.
“See girls, the difference is quite marked.”
As each stroke was delivered to Sarah’s quivering behind it became harder and harder to stay in position. The pain that had previously been coming in waves was now an almost constant force, threatening to overwhelm the poor teenager. Her legs were straining badly to remain straight and tears had long ago begun to drip from her face onto the platform beneath her.
As the eighth stroke smacked into the tender crease where her buttocks met her thighs, Sarah noticed a long string of mucus hung from her nose. It must have been about 5 inches long now, long enough to be dangling so low that she could see it. Sniffing did nothing to remove it and Sarah realised that due to the way she was bent over it was actually hanging from the tip of her nose.
Sarah felt true shame. She had been reduced to a blubbering mass, her entire body quivering and awash with pain and now, when she stood up, she would have a stream of mucus covering her face like a baby unable to control itself. How these thoughts even intruded past the barrier of pain from her abused ass was beyond the sorry girl’s comprehension.
SWICK. The ninth stroke landed with just as much force as the preceding eight. Miss Watson was not showing any mercy to the now openly sobbing girl.
“Nine, thank you Ma’am,” Sarah spoke as loudly and clearly as she could, though her whole body was shuddering as she cried.
“Sit.”
Sarah stood up, quickly wiping the long string of sticky mucus from her nose. She had no idea what to do as the degrading goo spread and webbed across the fingers of her left hand.
“Wipe that off you filthy girl,” spat Miss Watson, handing the still crying teen a tissue poised on the tip of the stiff piece of the wood. The cane which had caused her such distress, pain such as she had never felt before in her life was now being used to degrade her in yet another way. Sarah continued to sob as she took the offered tissue, humiliated further by the obvious fact that her teacher had no intention of getting anywhere near the mucus covered hands of the distressed schoolgirl. Sarah hurriedly wiped her hands and her nose, soaking the tissue in seconds with the slimy discharge. The red-faced girl stood down from the platform, moving slowly, making sure her wobbly legs would support her before transferring her weight.
“Thank you for my correction Ma’am,” Sarah blubbed, trying to slow down her breathing and somehow get her crying under control. She felt like she should have done better, should have weathered the painful storm better. She curtsied to the waiting teacher and moved to her desk.
“Bin that filthy rag Porter.”
Sarah looked around for a bin, desperate to rid herself of the evidence of her humiliation. She spotted a small black bin near the door of the room. She trotted across the class, deposited the soggy tissue and moved as quickly as she could back to her desk. She could not raise her eyes from the floor as she walked in front of the class. She could not bear to catch the eye of any of her classmates.
As she moved she was consumed by the need to touch her throbbing buttocks. She needed to reassure herself that she was not bleeding, to feel the painful welts that crossed her tender mounds. Her hands began to drift behind her to rub her buttocks, anything to help her deal with the pain that was radiating throughout her whole body. She caught herself in time, frightened of incurring more punishment.
As Sarah sat down on her stool a fresh wave of pain lanced up her body. The nine raised welts that criss-crossed her buttocks were sending great throbs of agony pulsing up her body and into her chest. She gingerly rested all her weight on the small hard seat and felt as if she was being hit once again. A sharp stab of pain lanced into her abused buttocks, making her gasp as each raised welt was pressed into the hard, unyielding seat. She sat at attention, her feet on either side of her box, once again causing her legs to spread.
Even amidst the pain she was feeling from her caning the humiliation of such a position made her cringe inside. Her shoulders heaved every now and then with a residual sob but she almost had her emotions under control. Sarah breathed deeply and slowly trying to calm herself down and try and deal with the pain. Her nose was still running and she could feel the mucus slowly oozing onto her upper lip.
She was horrified by this, but too scared to dare to move her arm. She sat as still as she could, watching the other girls in the class receive their caning. Every single girl in the class had received at least one stroke, with a number of girls receiving two. Sarah reflected on the fact that she had nine and could not understand exactly how it had happened. She could not feel the individual marks on her bottom, the whole area was simply a mass of throbbing agony. Surely she wasn’t that bad? She was a good girl. She tried to be a good girl. What had gone so wrong?
As the last girl in the class left the platform, curtsying to Miss Watson on the way, Sarah was still fighting the humiliation of the twin trails of mucus that had dripped down her nose and over her lips. She had not dared to move, her levels of anxiety deepening as she felt the slimy trails ooze over her upper lip. She tried to think of something else, even focusing all her attention on each cane stroke, critiquing the position of each girl, admiring those that took their stroke stoically and sympathising with those that cried.
No matter what she tried, her thoughts kept returning to her face, what she must look like, how filthy and infantile she must appear with the clear ooze from her nose now covering her lips. The more she tried not to think of it the more it grew in her mind. The temptation to open her mouth and lick the discharge away was becoming almost overwhelming but she could not give in to it. What would everyone say? Even she knew it was disgusting but the sensation as the thick slime sat on her lips was maddening. Sarah kept her mouth tightly pursed, adamant that nothing would enter. Her cheeks were flushed red at the degrading position she had been forced to hold but she vowed that she would not add to it. She just had to sit still, no matter how hard that simple task had become.
“Seventeen minutes into the first lesson. That time you will make up at the end of class today. As this is our first form class I don’t think we have any further business.”
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