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Chapter 7. In which Sarah learns her first lesson
So caught up was she in her own dilemma, Sarah had not even noticed the muted electronic bell that chimed at the end of the form class. She was a mess, both physically and mentally. Even though her ass, pressed against the hard plastic seat, hurt beyond anything she had known, her focus was almost entirely on her face. She did not think she could stand it for much longer.
“I hope this has provided a valuable learning tool for you girls,” continued Miss Watson as she moved to stand directly in front of the class. Sarah followed her with pleading eyes, hoping her predicament would be noticed and she would be allowed to wipe her nose and mouth.
“The first lesson of the day is usually deportment and etiquette, however as today is our first class together we shall be discussing your curriculum, Trinity house and its place at this school and a little history of the school itself.”
The girls were excited at this news. There had been a lot of speculation and no one could really put all of the evidence into a cohesive argument.
“Harkwood school was founded in 1806 by Charles Harkwood. He was a self-made man, making his fortune in shipping. He was a man of his convictions and he felt the slipping morals of the age could be traced back to a small handful of causes. The most prominent of which was the unnatural growth in the rights of women. Charles believed, and rightly so, in the natural inferiority of women.
“Throughout history the female of the species had always been relegated to the domestic chores, taking the lead from the male and finding a natural place as the subservient worker, the mother and the keeper of the home. This natural order extends back to the era of the hunter-gatherer societies of early man and remains with us on a primal, instinctual level. In the early 19th century as the world began to be industrialised as it never had before, this natural balance began to be upset. Charles Harkwood was disturbed at the way society was developing and set out, in his small way, to redress the balance.
“The state of society today is a clear indication of Charles Harkwood’s forethought and concern as the dangerous and unnatural path that was in its infancy when our school was founded has become rampant in the world today, providing us with the highest rates of crime and the almost total breakdown of societal norms.”
Sarah could not believe what she was hearing. There was some truth in what the teacher was saying but the anxious teen couldn’t quite see the point of what was being said. She knew she wasn’t the only one, as she could sense the uneasiness of the other girls.
“It took Charles Harkwood eleven years to see his dream become a reality. After purchasing the ancestral lands of a recently disgraced lord he devoted the rest of his life to establishing a school for girls, to teach them correct values and impart all the knowledge they would need to successfully resume their correct place in society. He felt that only when this occurred on a wide enough scale would society have any chance of producing the utopia that many writers of the day pined for.
“Over the last 200 years Harkwood school has endeavoured to right this balance. Over the years society has forced such endeavours to be diluted somewhat but here at Harkwood, Trinity house has remained true to the original tenets of the dream of Charles Harkwood – his dream for a better society.
“With a handful of sister schools, we at Harkwood have maintained an exceptional standard of education. Here you will be taught proper deportment and etiquette, how to cook and clean and how to sew. You will be instructed in the art of dance and the grace of movement. You will be taught the meaning and importance of obedience and subservience. You will learn to pleasure both a man and a woman. You will be educated in all forms of domestic and sexual servitude. In short your true natures will be allowed to flourish, each one of you will blossom into the true form that all women desire and strive for, though sadly most do so unknowingly in today’s society.”
Miss Watson stood before the class, her cane still resting languidly in her right hand. She surveyed the stunned faces of the young girls who would be her charges for the next eighteen months. She knew from her nine year experience at Harkwood that it would take a little while for the information to sink in. Even then, it sometimes didn’t quite dawn on these girls and she had, over the years, taken to emphasising her point.
“In short girls, you are here to be groomed into well-rounded true women. The correct terminology for your status is slut. Some would say whore or slave. But even though you will come to embrace the fact that you are sluts as all women are, I do not like to use the term ‘slave’. It implies a lack of will in one’s acceptance of one’s true nature. And by the time you graduate you will be properly educated to accept and embody the pleasure that your servitude will bring.”
During this speech every girl in the room turned to look at Casta. Even those in the rows in front forgot what they were doing and sought out the French girl. Casta sat in her chair, her mouth open in shock. She had never believed her joking assessment could somehow be correct.
“Eyes front,” bellowed Miss Watson. “Servitude is never easy, it is what makes it so rewarding. Your patrons have paid a very great deal of money to ensure your well-rounded education at Harkwood. Now let us not waste any more time and let’s begin creating those wonderful creatures that your patrons wish for you to be, and indeed that Charles Harkwood wished for you to be. Let us begin to create a better society.”
“Retrieve your boxes and place them on the desk in front of you,” commanded Miss Watson. This was the critical moment in every year. She watched each girl. It had become somewhat of an art for her to recognise those girls that would cause trouble at the outset and those for whom the inability to accept their new lives would simmer beneath the surface, and this command after the revelation of their status was the key.
Ah Ozawa, Miss Watson thought to herself, perfect as always. The Japanese girls were never any trouble. Their predisposition to submissiveness was ingrained deeply. They were the culture most in touch with their genetic heritage. Mitchell, the cow-breasted dullard, had reacted perfectly, the dull accepting expression as she placed her box on her table indicated that there would be no trouble from that quarter.
Even Porter, the girl who had managed to accrue so many infractions in such a small time had seemed to accept, though with clear reservations. Miss Watson could see the inner turmoil rage as logic and the unnatural will for freedom that society had so falsely drummed into these girls battled with the more primal truth that each girl contained.
“Ness, stand,” drilled Miss Watson. The Amazonian teacher had noticed the slight hardening of features that she had come to recognise over the years, as not only the inability to accept their new status but the cunning scheming that would safely hide the true feelings. She knew that this would manifest itself in trouble later on, maybe not for a few months but so much time would be lost where the true message of the lessons would be wasted. Miss Watson knew what to do.
“Front.”
The beautiful blonde teen was not sure what that meant, though she took a guess and moved to the front of the class. Just do what this stupid bitch says for now, she thought to herself. First chance I get and BAM I will be lost into the sunset, she comforted herself. It would only take until lunchtime when she could get lost in the mass of girls and she would be out the front doors. She was already planning it, she would have to hide in the town until dark and then make her way to London. She had no money and she could not go home to her so called ‘uncle’ but she would find some friends in London and tell the world about this freakshow. That’s how she could make some money, selling the story to the tabloids of this silly little country.
All this flashed through her head in the seconds it took to reach the front of the class. Miss Watson watched her strut towards her. Yes definitely scheming, she thought. The little Scandinavian thought she was so smart, such a good actress but her body language gave her away as easily as if she wore a flashing neon sign above her head.
The teacher stepped forward, towering over the young girl. She was a beauty that was for sure. Typical Scandinavian: long blonde hair, perfectly blue eyes and smooth, richly tanned skin. But she also had that Scandinavian haughtiness, far too much barbarian in her. The trouble makers were, more often than not, the girls from Scandinavia or Germany. Funny, the teacher thought to herself, how patterns form along cultural lines.
“When the command ‘Front’ is given in this classroom it is an indication for you to move up to the platform, turn and face the class and stand at attention. Do so,” commanded the imperious teacher. “Now open your boxes. Ness will come around with the bin for you to place your wrapping in,” directed Miss Watson, flicking the cane at Ness, indicating for her to move.
Sarah and the other girls broke the plastic wrapped seal on their boxes and waited for the bin to be brought around by Ness. Sarah was still reeling from what she had been told. It couldn’t be true. It must be some kind of sick joke being played on them. But every time she thought that, she kept coming back to the little things – the rings set in the walls in the dorm. The obvious clues, such as the degrading treatment and revealing uniforms just weren’t registering.
As the pretty blonde teen approached her desk with the bin, Sarah fought the temptation to wipe her nose with the scrunched up plastic wrap. The ooze from her nose was beginning to dry and crystallised all the way from her nose to her upper lip. As Ness approached she saw the sudden look of disgust on her face as she noticed the state of Sarah’s face and the battle was lost. She quickly reached up and wiped her nose with the wrap before placing it in the bin.
It was an immense release to have the mess cleared. She had only had the chance for the one wipe but it had removed the majority of the mass of hardening slime. She could feel the broken crust of what was left, irritating her nostrils and upper lip. She knew this must look dreadful but it was a relief just to have the salty, slimy mess off her lips.
“Open your boxes and retrieve the manual that you see.”
In unison seventeen cardboard lids rose into the air and seventeen small blue books were removed from each box. The girls were unsure what to do with them, the general consensus being to simply hold onto them for the moment.
Sarah took this opportunity to move her feet closer together, closing her legs and preventing the humiliating view of her sex. The revelations that she would be treated like a sexual object and turned into a sexual deviant were having trouble penetrating deep into her mind, where her sense of self, of being a good girl lay hidden.
“Replace your lids. Ness remove each box from each desk and place it on the corresponding benchtop position,” Miss Watson directed, indicating the row of cupboards that extended from the doorway all the way to the back of the room.
As Ness carried out this repetitive task, carrying one box at a time from desk to cupboard, the seated girls read the cover of the book. It was a thin book, looked to be some 200 pages long and was covered in what felt like blue leather. Embossed on the front cover in white writing was ‘Trinity House Student Manual’ underneath which was the Harkwood coat of arms.
“Girls, open your manuals to page 13, place them on the desk in front of you, they will stay open. We are going to begin today with some general positions. As you know, correct positioning is important for maintaining posture and providing not only a pleasing aesthetic but also for demonstrating that you understand your submissive role.You already know ‘attention’. But for the remainder of this class we shall learn some new positions. Ness here,” Miss Watson indicated the teen still clearing desks of boxes, “is going to be our model.”
Sarah looked at page 13 of her student manual. The heading at the top of the page was ‘Seated Attention”. The majority of the page was covered by a stylised drawing of a faceless young girl in Harkwood uniform seated on a stool. The girl was large-breasted, her nipples clearly defined under the familiar blouse. There was a front view, showing the feet wide apart and a clear V of panties visible under the tented skirt, and a side view showing the correct position of the arms behind the back. Small numbers were dotted around both images, with the legend underneath explaining them: elbow, head, knee etc.
As Sarah began to read the description under the image, she shuffled her legs wide apart, as wide as they had been when straddling the box. She knew what she looked like, there was a visual representation on the page in front of her. She could imagine what it would look like at the front of the class: eighteen sets of legs spread wide to show eighteen teenage mounds cupped by tightly fitting white panties. Now the reasoning behind the transparent desks became devilishly clear to her. She blushed as she read the impersonal instructions directing the reader on how to properly sit at attention.
"The student sits at attention by placing the spine in an upright position. The legs of the student are to be separated to a 30 degree angle. The calves of the student are to remain perpendicular to the surface beneath. The students arms are to be drawn behind the torso, the elbows drawn back to create a straight line across the student's back. The hands of the student are to be brought to rest in the small of the back with the right palm cupped within the left. The head of the student is to be raised and the focus of the eyes is to be forward.
"When done correctly the 'seated attention' position ensures the posture of the student is maintained while simultaneously highlighting the assets of the student: the tits, thrust forward due to the trinity of shoulders, elbows and arms, and the pussy due to the spread of the legs."
Sarah read the passage numbly. They were talking so matter-of-factly about her, about the way she was supposed to sit. It was like reading a manual on how to set up a DVD-player; scientific and dispassionate. What disturbed her most of all was how simply it was written, so simply Sarah thought, that even Mitchell would be sure to grasp the concepts within. She realised as she looked again at the faceless drawing that she was already sitting with her legs spread as shown in the diagram. She didn't recall widening them. She realised with a little horror that she had done so subconsciously as she read. This was simply due to her drive to be a good student she told herself, not from any other desire.
What further disturbed Sarah was the use of the term 'pussy', there was even a numbered arrow pointing to it on the diagram. She had never, ever, not once referred to her sex as that.
"Everyone but Porter, Winkle and Ozawa stand," commanded Miss Watson.
Sarah looked up from her manual worriedly.
"Shah, what page were you asked to read?"
"Page 13 Ma'am."
"And what was that page about Shah?"
"It was about the position of seated attention Ma'am."
"Now Shah, do you think you have a superior in this room?" asked Miss Watson menacingly.
"Yes Ma'am," the worried teen replied.
"And who would that be?"
"You Ma'am."
"So explain to me why, when you had just read about the correct posture you did not adopt this position."
The exotic middle-eastern looking girl was confused. She had no idea how to answer that question without getting herself in trouble. Sarah felt sorry for the girl singled out to receive the ire of the teacher. Only three girls had exempted themselves by doing the right thing, and she was glad that she was one of them. Her ass was still extremely painful and she was praying she would not get any more infractions any time soon. She had no idea what her bottom looked like but she was sure it would not be pretty.
"I don't know Ma'am."
"Yes you do Shah, you are just a little too stupid to realise it. Porter tell them why they are standing now."
"Because they showed disrespect to a superior by not adopting the correct position Ma'am."
"Correct Porter," Miss Watson said as she sat down in her high-backed leather chair. "One infraction for disrespect. Ignorance is never an excuse. If it was, some of you girls would be able to get away with murder." Miss Watson began typing on the laptop, registering the infractions by seat location.
"Sit."
Sarah looked at Ness, standing at attention on the platform in front of the room. She was glad that another girl had been spared the infraction. She hated having to answer, knowing what she said had contributed to their punishment.
"Shah stand up and sit on the stool in the corner. Porter turn to page 19 and read what is written there."
"The dunce stool," Sarah began. "The dunce stool is reserved for students who have shown exceptional lack of intelligence. The student is to sit in the dunce chair, facing the class. The student is to adopt a 'seated attention' position. The student is to spread the legs to a 50 degree angle. The heel of each foot is to be resting on the top crossbar behind each front leg of the stool. The student is to wear the dunce hat."
Sarah stopped reading and watched Shah adopt the position she had described. She stepped up backwards onto the tall stool and hooked the heels of her shoes into the crossbar that sat high up the legs of the stool. The bar fitted neatly into the valley between the tall heel of the shoe and the pointed toe section. She looked for all the world as if she was squatting on the high stool. The young girl slowly spread her legs wider until she had decided she had reached 50 degrees. Sarah knew that this position would not be easy to maintain as the pushing of her legs locked into the bar would naturally force the weight to the back of the stool but the girl had to sit up straight with her hands behind her back so balance would be an issue.
Sarah could see that Shah had been one of those girls with an extremely full thatch of pubic hair. The widespread legs of the degraded teen clearly exposed her sex to the class. The small white panties bulged over the tight mound and thick black hair pushed out around the sides. It was like someone had dropped a tissue on an afro, Sarah thought to herself, amazed that she could make a joke at the expense of the suffering schoolgirl. Sarah also noticed that due to the knees being elevated there was no chance that her skirt could ever cover her exposure as it was trapped against her body by her raised thighs.
Miss Watson picked up a large pointed hat from behind her chair. It was white with a large blue D painted on the front. It was basically just a two-foot-tall stiff, cardboard cone. She placed the hat firmly on the head of the humiliated girl. Shah perched precariously on the tall stool as Miss Watson leaned into the terrified teen’s face and whispered, "If you ever answer a question with 'I don't know' again you will receive an infraction." The humiliated young girl went pale, the cold menace in the teacher’s voice terrifying the already witless teenager.
"Okay girls," Miss Watson said cheerily as she turned back to the class, "turn to page 14, kneeling."
Sixteen sets of eyes flicked from the spread legs of the humiliated dunce to their student manual on the desk in front of them. Almost together the girls reached up with a right or left hand and turned to page 14, before quickly resuming their position.
"Ness, kneel."
The confused teen knelt down on the platform, but she did not have a manual, how was she to know if she had done it right. She soothed her panic by telling herself it didn't matter if she got any infractions, she would not be here to collect them. All that mattered was to make it to lunchtime and her chance to escape. No fucking way she was being anyone's sex slave.
"Wrong. Put your shins flat on the ground, spread your knees. Wider. Stand up. Remove your blouse and skirt so the girls can properly see what you are doing."
The haughty blond teen stood up, her hands hesitating on the lowest button of her blouse.
"Resume the correction position," Miss Watson commanded angrily.
Ness looked at the teacher toying with the cane. Her eyes downcast, the pretty teen turned around and clasped her ankles as she had done for her earlier infraction.
"A position you can get correct. Maybe this position is your favourite."
Before anyone in the room was ready the cane flew towards the exposed buttocks. A new red welt was soon added to the existing stripe.
"Now you can also remove your bra and panties."
This time Ness did not hesitate. Her tie came off and she placed it on the platform beside her.
"No, you will be using that platform, place your clothes on your desk."
Ness, carefully stepped down from the platform, walked to her desk and placed her tie on it. Her fingers flew up her blouse unfastening three buttons before she was stopped.
"Ness you are to undress on the platform. Move," bellowed Miss Watson.
The harassed teen scurried to the front of the room, her blonde ponytail bobbing with each hurried step. She carefully alighted upon the platform and turned to face the class. She continued to unbutton her blouse.
"No Ness, fix your mistake and then continue undressing."
The exasperated girl buttoned up the three she had previously undone and then proceeded to undress, her now trembling fingers fumbling with the tiny buttons. When she had removed her blouse she stepped down and placed it on her desk. Repeating the procedure for her skirt and her bra. She hesitated just a little before removing her panties but she dutifully slid them down her legs and placed them on the top of the pile of clothes on her desk, looking thoroughly harassed.
Ness sat one row behind Sarah so she could only watch her as she undressed and moved up and down the platform. The pretty Scandinavian teen had unusual breasts, to Sarah at least. Her nipples were quite large and puffy, almost as if they had been sucked into the end of a vacuum cleaner.
"Kneel," Miss Watson commanded, the instant Ness had resumed attention on the platform. Ness kneeled obediently, placing her shins flat on the floor as she had been told on her first attempt. “Wider," the teacher commanded, smacking the exposed right thigh. The whole class was surprised but none more so than the kneeling teen. They had all assumed that the cane was only for corrections. Now they knew it could be used at the teacher’s whim, for instruction as well as correction.
Ness did not need to be told to keep her hands behind her back.
"Your ass should be nestled inside your feet," Miss Watson corrected as she walked around behind the platform.
Ness lifted her buttocks slightly off the ground, thrust her pelvis forward and resettled so her buttocks were nestled on the inside of her feet. Sarah was directly in front of the demonstration and she saw the lips of Ness’ sex move apart slightly as she thrust her hips forward. It was lewd and wrong and Sarah felt terribly sorry for the girl.
"Now compare your manuals with Ness. Raise your hand if you can see any differences."
Each girl pored over her manual, the diagrams and the explanation for the kneeling position, looking back at Ness constantly to compare. Sarah raised her hand with trepidation.
"Porter."
"Her eyes are not downcast Ma'am."
"Good girl Porter. Indeed she has kept her eyes focused forward."
Sarah felt a flush of pride at her teachers praise. She noted Ness lower her eyes.
"This is a demure position and the eyes are to be cast downwards, but open. Note the pussy, how the elevation of her ass allows a nice view even though it is low to the ground."
Ness's face went bright red. She was being treated like an object, as if she wasn't even a person. And now the whole class was staring at her pussy, being asked to admire how exposed it was.
"Page 15, display. Rise up on your knees, push your hips forward, lock your hands behind your neck, thrust your tits out. Hips further forward. Elbows back, and keep them there. Now girls, compare your manuals to the model."
This time Ness kept her eyes downcast and held the uncomfortable position. She was straining her back to hold her hips prominently displayed.
"Hips forward," Miss Watson corrected, emphasizing her words with a strike of the cane to the straining teenager’s ass.
The seated girls continued to compare their manual with the live example before them. This time however there was no difference to be found.
"Kneel."
Ness moved smoothly back into the kneeling position.
"Display."
Once again Ness rose up on her knees and thrust out her hips and breasts to the class.
"Do you all see the natural affinity of these two positions?"
"Yes Ma'am," the class intoned as one. Every girl could see the easy transition from kneeling to displaying and back again.
Miss Watson pushed the tip of the cane into the kneeling teen’s right breast, squashing the puffy nipple and causing the rebellious young schoolgirl to scowl at her.
"This position is named display for a reason. The tits are thrust forward prominently and the cunt is open. The spread of the legs opens the cunt, even on such a tight pussy as displayed here. This is more clearly seen when a pussy is clean, which unfortunately is not the case here, but don't worry girls, this will be rectified in a following period."
Sarah blushed as the humiliated girls most intimate body parts were discussed so openly. She watched the kneeling girl display her body and those facets which made her more a woman than a girl and saw a tear drip onto the exposed left breast.
"Kneel."
"Display."
"Kneel."
"Display."
"Kneel."
"Display."
Ness bounced up and down, sinuously thrusting her body on display and coming back to rest her buttocks on the shiny black heels. A thin sheen of sweat began to form on the exposed flesh of the teen as she struggled to keep time. Her breathing became fast and laboured.
"Attention."
"Display."
"Correction."
Miss Watson put the teen through a workout of positions. Ness kept pace with the demands for position changes, often being commanded to change as she had just settled into the correct position. The poor girl’s mind was reeling. She forgot everything but the positions she was being commanded to perform. Her nudity was forgotten, her rebellion was forgotten. Her focus had been reduced to the moment.
Ness began to worry as the rapid-fire position changes had stopped and left her in the correction position. She dreaded what was to come and hoped and prayed she would not be caned again. She had tried to keep up, tried to make the correct contortions of her body.
"Girls do you see in the correction position that it also provides a good view of the cunt and asshole. Widen your legs, a little wider, just past your shoulders. Simply by moving the legs a little wider, we now have an excellent view of the cunt and anus. This is an unofficial position, and so not one on the curriculum, but one we call 'cunt display'. It is useful to remember."
Ness began to sob quietly. Tears dripped onto the platform below her, as the strain in her legs began to become painful and the humiliation of being used as a mindless dummy, a teaching tool, an object, began to take their toll.
"Page 22, present."
The girls looked down from the exposed backside of their classmate and flicked to page 22 in their manuals. Sarah's eyes glanced at Shah as she lowered her head. The pretty girl seemed to be in some distress. Her thighs were tensing, though Sarah wasn't sure if this was involuntary or not. What was more worrying was that the poor girl had failed to maintain the proper posture and the dunce hat had slipped slightly askew, creating quite a comical picture. Sarah caught only a glimpse and she couldn't spare more than a momentary thought for the girl, trying to silently will some strength to her so she would not let the hat fall.
Sarah looked at page 22 and blushed. The diagram on this page was of a girl on the floor, her ass raised in the air presenting her sex for all to see. Sarah dutifully read the description, referring back to the diagram to confirm certain details. She realised that having a live model do this in front of her really was a huge help in learning the positions, even though she felt a little disgusted at herself for admitting the humiliation of another girl was a help to her.
"Kneel, facing away from the class. Now lean forward in one smooth movement placing your palms flat on the ground and leaning your face on your hands. Arch your back, more, come on, move the belly to the floor but keep that ass up in the air. Think about what you are doing silly girl, this position is to display your ass and cunt. You have to feel the position and what it is designed to achieve before you can inhabit it."
Miss Watson proceeded to tap the twin mounds of her exposed ass as she directed the prone girl into the proper position. The force of the cane was only a tenth of the strokes used for correction but the constant drumming pattern was creating a maddening rhythm of pain for the distressed teen.
"Chest down lower, mash those tits into the floor. Think of each part of the body, how it looks in the position you adopt."
Miss Watson interrupted her staccato caning of Ness' buttocks and prodded the tender lips of her pussy.
"Once this mess is removed," Miss Watson continued, running the tip of the cane forcefully over the smattering of golden pubic hair that grew sparsely on the teen’s pussy lips, "you will be able to see both sets of lips, clit and any enhancements that have been desired, as well as the current state of arousal."
"It is also perfect for determining the level of cleanliness the slut has maintained in two of her important holes," the teacher intoned, lightly smacking the pussy lips and anus of the girl as she spoke.
"Your next lesson is with Miss Rice. She will be instructing you in anatomy, hygiene and a great many other lessons. Even for sluts, knowledge is essential and must be cherished. We have a few minutes left, so while Ness cleans my boots I will take any questions on today’s lesson," said Miss Watson as she sat in her leather chair. "Ness, come."
The thoroughly cowed teen scrambled over before the seated teacher, the ever-present cane resting comfortably across her lap.
"Kneel. Now lick my boots clean, I want them both gleaming by the end of the class."
Ness leaned forward, her mouth closing in on the knee high black boots favoured by her teacher. She looked at the smooth black surface, smelling the earthy aroma of the leather. She hesitated, not able to voluntarily debase herself further. She had displayed the most intimate parts of her young body, places that no one had ever seen in the detail they had during this class - no one, not even her boyfriend.
The cane came crashing down on the side of her thigh, the explosion of pain shocking her out of her hesitation, any thoughts of modesty and rebellion burst away by those of self-preservation. Her young pink tongue flicked out with relish, licking up her teachers boot, from the toe to heel.
"Now class, any questions?" asked Miss Watson, satisfied that the young girl at her feet, obediently cleaning her boots with her tongue, was sufficiently broken. Ness was well on her way to embracing her subservience and becoming the slut she was destined to be. Sometimes breaking a girl was so very easy. She was a little disappointed to be honest, she quite enjoyed the rebellious little buggers.
All the girls in the class remained silent, unsure of what to do. Should they try and think of a question to ask? If they did, they would have to make sure it wasn't frivolous or incorrect. The example of Shah, sitting in the dunce chair in the front corner was reminder enough that if you opened your mouth, what came out had to count. But already the girls were second-guessing themselves. What if no one asked a question? Would that be worse? Every girl breathed a sigh of relief when Sarah's hand was slowly raised.
"Porter?"
"Ma'am, when moving from a floor position to a standing position is there a proper way to do it or is just moving as fast as possible the most important thing?" Sarah queried, blushing as she did so.
The question had come to her as she watched Ness change positions in front of her. She was genuinely curious but she worried about what the other girls would think of her. Would they think she was into this stuff? Would they think she was a teacher's pet? Would they hate her for trying to do well, like they did at her old school?
"Perceptive question Porter, you definitely seem to have the makings of a true slut's mind. The slut should always endeavour to ensure every move she makes be one of grace and beauty. After lunch we will begin a little theory but as a slut, you exist to please others and what is more pleasing than beauty and obedience?' Miss Watson paused, the only sound heard in the room was the moist slurping sounds as Ness continued to kiss and clean the teacher’s leather boots.
"Nothing is more pleasing than beauty and obedience Ma'am," Sarah answered when the silence made her feel nervous, made her feel like that question was not one of the rhetorical ones.
"Did you have to think about that Porter?"
"No Ma'am," the young girl replied with trepidation, now regretting a little that she had opened her mouth to begin with.
"I don't like to be kept waiting Porter. I can be a very patient woman but not with sluts. Now to answer the question, yes there is a more pleasing way to move from the floor positions to the standing positions. You move with grace, being sure that there is maximum exposure of the parts of your body that are most important: the ass, the pussy, the tits. You must also move with speed, but remember that speed should never make your movements ugly. It is better to take the punishment for being slow and move pleasingly than to be swift and ugly."
Sarah was glad that her question was a good one, though she didn’t quite know what to think about how Miss Watson had described her mind. Sarah, like every other girl in the class was still too overwhelmed by the events of the morning to truly understand and accept her predicament. Her mind had decided to treat the problem in the most familiar of ways: this was a school and she would do her best to be a good student. The repercussions for the rest of her life were a little too big and a little too recent to break through the delusion.
"Ness, sit," Miss Watson commanded.
The blonde girl scrambled to her feet and moved back to her seat. Sarah had watched the naked schoolgirl as she had licked almost every available surface of the teacher’s boot. When the front had been cleaned she had moved herself around to each side, her tongue searching for new surfaces, afraid that she would be caned again if she slowed down or her enthusiasm was lacking.
"Dress before you sit."
The Scandinavian girl dressed quickly and thankfully. She had been humiliated and degraded, used like an object and there was no way she could look her classmates in the eye. She sat at attention, two wet trails on her face highlighting her shame.
Miss Watson stood up and walked over to Shah, still seated on the stool, still wearing the conical dunce hat, though barely. Her legs were trembling from the strain, her calves taught and her thighs quivering visibly. It had taken a great effort to keep the dunce hat from falling. Her stomach muscles had been tensed almost constantly, trying to remain upright and balanced on the small stool. Her humiliation was deep-seated but even she was glad that she had been spared the treatment Ness to which Ness had been subjected.
"Look at our dunce here, how intelligent she looks. She is here because she was stupid. When you are asked a question and you do not know the answer, and this will happen many times, there is a correct response. The correct response is 'I am a slut'. This answer provides all the information that is necessary to explain the situation. Now all of you try it to make sure you have it right."
"I am a slut," the class repeated in a staggered chorus.
"Again."
"I am a slut."
"Shah, what is the average length of a cock?"
"I am a slut, Ma'am," Shah replied softly.
"Speak up, Shah."
"I am a slut Ma'am."
"I know Shah and you are here to be trained to be the best slut you can be. But what is the average cock length?
"I am a slut Ma'am," the frightened girl replied, frantically thinking of how to get out of this situation. This could go on forever.
"Never forget that Shah, and never forget this lesson."
"No, Ma'am."
"Sit," the teacher commanded as she removed the dunce hat from her head.
The exotic teen had to use her arms to help unhook her heels from the crossbar. Her legs were stiff from the strained position and the four inch heels had become caught along the wooden rod. She gingerly stepped down, groaning as her legs took the weight of her body. She hobbled back to her seat and sat gratefully, sobbing with the pain and indignity. Once all girls were seated Miss Watson addressed the class.
"In the remaining time in our first lesson we have an important task to perform. I want each girl, in order, to go to her box, lift the first partition, take out the contents and return to her seat. Now."
Olsen, was the first to stand and move rapidly to the cupboard along the wall. She opened her box, removed something and returned to her seat. Sarah could not see what was going on and her glimpse of Olsen as she walked in front of her revealed nothing.
"Once seated hold the contents in both hands in front of you, palms up."
Sarah watched and waited until it was her turn. When she heard Murphy sit down next to her she stood up, attempting to be as graceful as she could, and moved to her box. Once opened she saw the small cardboard partition that was used to create levels within the box. She lifted this out and looked at what was underneath.
There, on another cardboard partition was a circlet of silver metal. It was a band about one inch in height, with a ring protruding from the front. Sarah realised instantly that it was a collar and it didn't take a genius to understand that she would soon be wearing it. She was surprised at how light it was. It felt far lighter than any metal had a right to be. She replaced the partition and lid of her box and sat down.
In her peripheral vision she saw the girl next to her stand as she sat down, but her focus was on the collar in her hands, her collar. It had a dull sheen, shiny but not polished. The ring sat to the front of the collar and she could see that it was attached by an ingenious flange that looked to be a part of the metal band itself. She could not see any way for the collar to open, it seemed as if it was one solid piece of metal.
"Olsen, front and kneel."
Sarah had been so preoccupied in the study of her collar that she had lost track of time. She looked up to see Olsen kneeling in front of the class, her own metal circlet, identical to the one Sarah held, lying on her outstretched palms, like an offering. Miss Watson stood behind the kneeling teen, surveying the class.
"Girls, what you are holding is your collar. Once fitted this will remain with you until you graduate, at which time your patrons will replace it with one of their own. Your collar is not only a tool for control and restraint, it is a physical reminder of your servitude, a reminder that you are property now. Your collar marks your ownership. Later this may be added to. When you feel the caress of the collar around your neck it will remind you that you live to serve."
"Offer your collar to me Olsen."
The kneeling girl lifted her hands above her head, offering her collar like a crown at a coronation. Miss Watson reached over the girl’s head and lifted the collar from her outstretched palms. Olsen immediately placed her hands behind her back doing her best to approximate the new position she had learnt, and that Ness had been forced to demonstrate. The class watched, captivated, as Miss Watson touched a small metal cube to the back of the collar. There was an audible click and the class could see that the thick metal band had come apart. There was now a seam, a gap of only a couple of millimetres.
"Your collars are fastened by locking magnets. This allows for a seamless design which is much more pleasing to the eye than some unsightly padlock. And what is most pleasing to us Porter?" Sarah was not expecting the question, she hesitated for just a moment, hoping that this pause would not cause the teacher to be angry or disappointed with her.
"Beauty and obedience Ma'am."
"Which is more important to you Porter?"
Sarah's mind spun, what was the right answer. Which was more important? Was there a right answer? Sarah had to trust in herself and answer the question exactly as it had been asked. What was more important to her? Beauty was important, everyone wanted things to be beautiful, Sarah wanted to be beautiful. But what was beauty without obedience. Sarah believed that obedience made people much happier, you were actively doing something to show them your respect. She decided.
"Obedience Ma'am."
"Well Porter I hope that we see the strength of your convictions. You are all beautiful in your own ways. Beauty is easy, but for a slut, obedience is key. Even an ugly slut can please through her obedience."
Miss Watson leaned down behind Olsen and placed the collar around her neck. The teacher strained to widen the gap in the back of the collar. Pulling as hard as she could but it was still a very tight fit, the collar scraping the flesh of the kneeling girl’s neck as it was stretched around it. As soon as each prong was past the widest part her neck, the collar popped back into shape, the gap closing once again to bare millimetres. Olsen winced at the audible click as the teacher closed the collar around her neck.
"Thank me for your present and take your seat."
Olsen stood up, thanked her teacher as she curtsied and took her seat. Sarah could not take her eyes of the collared teen. The wide metal band looked amazing. All Sarah could think of was how it would feel around her own neck. Sarah worried herself a little with these thoughts, but the collar looked just like jewellery. She knew there was a lot more to it, but there didn’t have to be. Couldn’t it just be admired as a thing of beauty, in and of itself? She wasn’t entirely sure that it could, knowing that despite the collar being, in essence, a band of ordinary metal, it represented so much more, something deeper and more profound.
Sarah watched as first Cox, then her friend Murphy, received their collars. As the mesmerised schoolgirl watched the collar slide around her friend’s neck she began to get nervous. She knew that she was next, that soon she would have her collar placed and locked around her own neck. That once there she would not be able to remove it. Now her initial thoughts seemed silly to her. She did not want to wear a collar. She did not want to always have this solid piece of metal constricting her neck, reminding her that this was not a normal school and she was no longer a normal girl.
"Porter."
Sarah stood in a daze. She meekly walked to the platform and knelt before her teacher, raising her arms and offering her collar when directed. She sat stunned, her eyes looking forward, but not focused. Her vision was glazed as her entire being focused on the feel of the collar as it passed around her neck. She felt the metal ends scrape the soft flesh of her throat as Miss Watson settled the collar on her.
As it closed with a metallic click, as loud as a door slamming to the dazed teen, Sarah closed her eyes. It was done. The collar was not tight but she felt its entire circumference in contact with her neck. She swallowed and realised there was no need to panic for she could breath and swallow unobstructed. But she knew, from this moment forward, she would be always reminded that it was there. Always be reminded that she was not a simple schoolgirl here to learn maths and history but that she was a slut in training. Her life would never be the same and it was a life that she could not even begin to imagine right now.
Sarah stood up and stepped down from the platform. She turned to her teacher and curtsied politely.
"Thank you for my collar Ma'am."
She returned to her seat. Sarah's whole world seemed to have shrunk, she seemed unable to focus on anything but her collar. The way the cool metal was already warming to her own body temperature, the way the collar made contact in different places around her neck if she moved even slightly, lifting a little here, fitting a little more snugly there.
Sarah watched, but didn't really notice, the procession of teens as they marched to the front of the room and were collared. The temptation to lift her hands and feel the band at her throat, feel the hard metal meet the soft flesh of her neck, was almost overwhelming. She tried to shift her focus to what was happening in front of her but it was like the world had been enveloped in a thick fog, dampening sight and sound, isolating her. Nothing existed but the tight metal band around her neck. Sarah's daze was interrupted by the stentorian tones of Miss Watson.
"Girls, you will notice that the collars are fitted quite closely. Mrs Goodwin, our outfitter, does an amazing job with all Harkwood students, but especially with the little sluts of Trinity house. There are slight contours to our collars designed to make them comfortable but also to ensure minimal slippage. Your collars will not spin around your neck and they will always ride as high as they sit right now.
"Your collars are a representation of your status and are to be kept clean and polished at all times. Any scratches or marks will be punished. Your collar will only be removed for medical or disciplinarian purposes. You can all sit quietly for the last minute or so of this class. Your next class is with Miss Rice, two doors down. When you are dismissed you will move there in an orderly fashion.
"Your position at Harkwood is something that is not to be discussed with anyone but the other sluts in your class, the staff of Harkwood and the prefects. As far as the students from the other houses are concerned Trinity house is a behavioural modification program that the school runs for troubled and wayward girls as part of a government initiative. So the truth of your tuition is correct as far as they need to know. We may all dream of a world in which such a deception is unnecessary but we have not advanced society to the point where it is, as yet, ready for such a paradigm shift.
"Of course all Harkwood girls are taught the importance of obedience but out of necessity their tuition and training will not be as in-depth as yours. You need to display an exceptional example to the rest of the school. As you are lower in status you are held to higher standards."
Sarah sat in silence, staring straight ahead. Her mind was running in circles: from the throbbing pain that was still present in her ass to the weird feeling of the collar around her neck, to the positions she had been shown, thinking of the right ways to form the positions and back to the pain in her abused cheeks. The pain had lessened, it was no longer so sharp, but the throbbing ache had settled deep in her young flesh.
There was only a few moments of silence before the familiar chiming of the bell. Sarah looked to her teacher, who was lounging in her leather chair staring at the class. After sitting up straight on the tiny seated stool, Sarah longed to be able to lounge in a comfortable chair like that.
"Dismissed."
Sarah immediately stood up and moved to the door, she did not want to be late for the next class.
"Stop," snapped Miss Watson. "Back to your seats. I see you bitches need to be told every single thing. When you are dismissed you thank your teacher for the lesson and curtsy as you leave. You do this in order. Dismissed."
"Thank you Ma'am," intoned Olsen as she curtsied in front of the seated teacher, then hurried out of the room, registering her eartag on the scanner as she exited. Sarah waited her turn.
"Thank you for the lesson Ma'am," she said meekly as she curtsied before the lounging teacher.
"Did you enjoy the lesson Porter?"
"Yes Ma'am."
"What was your favourite part of the lesson?"
"My favourite part was having the positions demonstrated Ma'am," the worried teen replied. Why was she being singled out for these extra questions?
"Hmmm, interesting. Sluts do learn by example, but they learn better through practice. Now practice does not make perfect, but it will make you as close as you can come. Remember that Porter, no matter how much you enjoy watching another little whore perform you must be sure to practice yourself. Do you understand?"
"Yes Ma'am."
"Will you promise me Porter?"
"Yes Ma'am I promise to practice."
"Good girl,' the teacher said standing up and moving towards the startled teenager.
Sarah was a little worried, unsure why her teacher was advancing on her. Without warning Miss Watson leant down and kissed Sarah on the lips. A quick full-lipped kiss, brief yet sensual. Sarah responded instinctively, leaning ever so slightly into the kiss, lips shifting tenderly.
"Hurry along now," Miss Watson dismissed her with a leisurely wave of her hand.
Sarah was dazed and confused as her teacher sat back down, a languid smile on her face. She turned and hurried out of the room, almost forgetting to scan her tag as she left. She had just been kissed by a woman. Her first kiss was with a woman. A woman who was her teacher! And she had responded, she had not pushed her away in revulsion, she had not even simply stood still. She had participated. She had kissed back. She was not a lesbian. She knew she wasn't, she had a major crush on Scott Tomkins. She thought about boys when she played with herself.
Her mind continued to whirl as she took her place behind her Irish friend, who was standing obediently at attention down the corridor. Her first class at her new school was over. Her life had changed. So much had happened and all of it seemed like a dream after that kiss. She could not settle her mind, she could not focus. She vaguely felt the other girls take their places in line, simply waiting for their next class to begin. Sarah did not even contemplate what the next class would bring.
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