Sarah Porter's Schooldays

Sarah waited patiently outside the hall. They had come straight from breakfast clean-up, forgoing form, and now stood in line in the empty corridor. The school was so quiet between classes she could hear the breathing of her classmates, the sibilant hush filling the hall with a subtle noise she found comforting. She glanced down, just for a second, the flicker of motion unable to be ignored. Murphy was nervous. The Irish teen’s hands were shaking, her slender fingers rubbing agitatedly against each other. Sarah knew how she felt. This was something very different to their normal routine. Miss Harper had told her what she was supposed to do but there was still a touch of the unknown to the proceedings.

 

Assembly, the word had an ominous feel. Assemblies at her old school were nothing to be concerned about, occasional and chaotic, no different from any other class. Assemblies at Harkwood were to be very different, she was confident of that. They occurred every single Friday, straight after form class and continued for the entire first period. She had no idea what could be talked about for that length of time but she would soon find out. Trinity house needed to be there early. Her handler hadn’t said much more than that. She knew what she needed to know and she was comfortable with that.

 

Sarah jumped when the heavy wooden door before her opened with a loud clatter. Her lips twisted in a half-smile as she noticed almost every other girl in her house had been startled by the sudden noise. Even when you were prepared, it was hard not to react to things like that. The smile intensified when she noticed that no one broke position, the clean, neat lines remained unbroken. She knew her fellow sluts were getting it. They were only at the end of the first week of classes but she just knew that her housemates were beginning to understand their place in this new world.

 

“Enter.”

 

Miss Harper! Sarah knew she was going to be here but her heart beat faster just knowing her handler was to be one of the prefects who were to oversee their first ever assembly. She followed as Murphy strode briskly into the hall. There were four other prefects inside, waiting for them. Each girl had a short cane, a little over a foot long, dangling casually from their hands. One girl had hers tucked under her right arm and it made Sarah think about those funny sticks the British officers always carried in the old war movies, though these would be sure to be used for a very different purpose.

 

Sarah allowed herself one quick glance around the hall and was amazed at its size. There was a large stage at the far end, brightly lit with heavy curtains obscuring the sides and rear from view. The ruffled curtains were a dark-blue, almost black, and made the stage seem as if it was shrouded by shadows. A single podium and microphone stood  on the stage, slightly off-centre, and a row of high-backed wooden chairs had already been set-up in a crisp line behind it. The rest of the hall was empty and non-descript. Without the stage, it looked almost exactly like the gymnasium.

 

“Thank you Miss Harper.”

“Miss Wallis,” Sarah’s handler replied with a formal nod of the head.

“You have fifteen minutes to ensure the student seating is arranged. You will pair off. You will lift, not drag,” the young girl said with emphasis, “each pew into position. Do you understand?”

“Yes Miss Wallis,” the eighteen schoolgirls chorused.

“Miss King, if you please,” the tall prefect said, indicating to the girl at the far end of the line.

“Begin.”

 

For what must have been the thousandth time since the start of classes, Sarah was glad she was not the first girl in Trinity house. She had said that she had understood, but she hadn’t really. She knew that everyone was going to say they understood and there was no way she was to be the single voice of dissent. She would just pick it up as she went, hoping not to fail. If she did, any punishment would be accepted. She would rather a personal punishment than a class one caused by the delay needed to explain things to her in more detail.

 

Moments after Murphy turned, Sarah spun to her left and followed her friend to the back of the hall. Stacked up against the rear wall, in two small alcoves to either side of the main doors, were row upon row of folded seats. She hadn’t seen anything like these before but she could tell from those already being carried forward, exactly how they functioned. The metal frame of each row of chairs slotted perfectly into the next, making her think of the trolleys at the supermarket. Each pew had six dark blue seats, each one folded up against the back. She was soon at the back of the hall and preparing to slide her pew from the stack. Sarah looked across at Taylor and gave a shy smile. She didn’t really know Taylor very well, but she knew they would work well together.

 

The pew felt cool under her hands and she ran her fingers along the smooth metal, enjoying the sensation, just for a moment. She looked to Taylor and hefted the row of seats out of the stack. It was lighter than she had expected but, stepping away from the pile, she wondered if she was physically up to the task. Sure there were seven other pairs of girls all moving in unison to get the job done, but with the first step she took, her jaw clenched at the sudden pain that shot through her pussy. She clutched the pew with both hands and was forced to move in an odd sideways walk to prevent the sides from banging against her calves. The spiked ball that had been added to her uniform pressed viciously against the tender walls of her sex, shifting along her sensitive canal with each crab-like step.

 

By the time she had awkwardly shuffled her way the length of the hall and deposited her pew behind the others, she was sweating, the fire between her legs radiating throughout her body. The pain was a near constant thing, but her body was responding in a different way. The movement of the small metal ball was uncomfortable and undeniable. Could Taylor tell the dilemma she was in? She was doing her best to hide her reaction to the invasion of her sex. Her face was flushed but she hoped it would be attributed to her exertion with the pews.

 

Sarah soon lost herself in her work, carrying pew after pew into the hall. She moved fast, hurried along by the girls behind her. She had to keep pace, ignore the rising mix of pain and pleasure between her legs. Each pew was set an exact distance behind that in front, any deviation quickly rectified by the prefects and the liberal use of their short canes. The alcove she had been working on was almost empty before she felt the sharp sting on her own buttocks. She had bent over to pick up the next pew and the ball inside her shifted, one spur pressing into new territory, finding a particularly sensitive ridge of flesh. She had straightened up immediately, her hands pushed into her belly in a futile attempt to massage the bristling intruder away.

 

The blow wasn’t like a normal cane, it didn’t curl around her buttocks or rebound off her firm curves. The cane was hard and stiff and smacked into the soft flesh of her bottom with an unyielding force. Sarah gasped, the loud exclamation heard above the sounds of work from the other girls. The harried schoolgirl almost spun around to confront her attacker but remembered what she was and bent immediately to collect the pew, desperate not to slow the work down. The single strike stayed with her until the task was complete, the ache from the blow sitting deep in her behind, the pain mixing with the lingering ache of her corrections. Thankfully she only had to transport one final pew to its position before a halt was called.

 

Sarah stood in position at the rear of the hall while the prefects walked the line, checking the distance and alignment of the pews. Satisfied by the work, Miss Wallis called them to a new location, an area in which the pews were conspicuously absent. They lined up and turned to face the front of the hall while the head prefect commenced an inspection of their lines. She was not as impressed with them as she had been with the inanimate rows of seats. Clark’s socks were too low and she received two quick smacks as she bent to fix them. The hem of Ozawa’s skirt was uneven, Winkle’s hair required fixing, Casta’s tie was crooked. Each correction was accompanied by a quick slice of the short stick. Sarah had never seen the prefect’s with these tools of discipline before but Wallis, at least, seemed quite accomplished. She stood transfixed by fear when the head prefect confronted her. She knew with a certainty that she would not be immune to the stringent inspection.

 

The hard cane tapped her high on the arm and she cringed at the sting of the blow. Her sleeve was folded back upon itself and she hurried to fix it. She was struck again on the side of her left calf, the line of her sock was the correct height but crooked. The prefect’s voice held no especially harsh overtones as she made her corrections, but it was this lack of feeling that made Sarah feel a little strange. The business-like, detached tone, made her even more anxious at her failure.  At least the problems were dealt with on the spot. No girl was given an infraction for her uniform discrepancies and Sarah breathed  a silent sigh of relief when the last girl was inspected and corrected.

 

Now all they had to do was wait. The prefects had set them in two perfect lines, each girl stood at strict attention, their focus never wavering from the stage at the front of the large hall. As the minutes passed the noise from the corridor grew from a muted hush to a dull buzz, the thick wooden doors muffling the cacophony from without. Sarah knew the whole school would be waiting outside, impatiently if the noise level was anything to go by. In comparison the hall was silent, a dense calm seemed to have settled over the empty space. Sarah could feel the underlying tension, the still air around her was pregnant with the promise of the coming storm.

 

The doors burst open, the sudden noise deafening. Sarah could feel the subtle shift of movement around her and knew her classmates felt the same apprehension that troubled her. She tried to remain in position, frozen in the strict posture expected.  The temptation to turn her head, to see the great ocean of schoolgirls stream into the hall was almost too great for her. Sarah held to her training, drawing strength from the presence of her classmates. She could only hope that every Trinity girl had remained strong and behaved appropriately. Even though no prefect had said so, she knew they were on display here, only their best behaviour would suffice.

 

With surprising efficiency the rows were quickly filled. The girls of Trinity house had been abandoned to their training, the prefects marshalling the rest of the school to their correct seats, the youngest girls at the front of the hall.  Sarah kept her eyes firmly on the podium in the centre of the raised stage but she saw the rest of the room as a blur of activity. She straightened almost imperceptibly when she recognised the fuzzy outline of the nearest prefect as that of her own. She had such a distinctive walk that Sarah would have known her anywhere. She smiled, no more than a tiny twitch of her lips at the thought. She was learning to be more aware, to recognise her surroundings and superiors with whatever information she was given.

 

She looked forward to the day she could taste her handler. Would she ever be allowed that privilege? What would she be like? What would her pussy be like? Would it be plump, filling her cotton panties with a tempting mound? Would it be creamy, like her own? Miss Harper was a complete unknown and Sarah found herself longing to pry back the veil of mystery that surrounded her.

 

She still wasn’t sure how exactly each handler fit into the hierarchy of her superiors. Most important was that they held a position of power over the students of Trinity house, everything else she supposed was merely academic. There was movement on the stage, at last heralding the beginning of the assembly. Sarah tensed as the teachers made their way onto the stage. Her teeth clenched, biting back the gasp caused by the spiked ball nestled deep in her cleft. She tried to relax, fighting the urge to bend over in a futile attempt to alleviate the pain between her legs.

 

The noise from the gathered schoolgirls had become hushed at the appearance of the staff but the hall fell eerily silent as the headmistress stalked onto the stage. Sarah’s heart hammered in her chest, the sight of Mrs Huffington Smythe forcing the memories of her detentions to come flooding back. Her lips trembled gently at the thought of the session she would be attending very soon. How different would a punishment session be? Detentions were bad enough, though she knew the benefits, but would a punishment session be designed for her to learn or simply to remind her to be good?

 

As the headmistress reached the podium, all the seated students rose to their feet as one. Sarah was amazed that such a coordinated response had occurred without a command. No doubt each class had been prepared for the assembly, each class but her own. Trinity house did not need to follow any cues, unspoken or otherwise, as they had their orders and they would obey without question. At a gesture from the stern woman, now ensconced behind the lectern, the school resumed their seats, all but Sarah and her classmates. She felt the difference with mild distress, a small part of her still yearning to be a normal girl. She was destined for something better, she knew, but old habits were hard to shake.

 

“Harkwood Academy,” the headmistress began, her voice projected through the hall by the microphone. “Another year has begun, and Harkwood is once again full of faces, both old and new, but all eager to learn.”

 

Sarah listened intently though it quickly became apparent that this speech was not meant for her. The headmistress spoke about the history of Harkwood and the traditions that had survived to the present day. It was a different story to that told by Miss Watson but the kernel of truth was there. Mrs Huffington Smythe did not refer to Trinity house once during her speech, nor did she deign to look in their direction. She couldn’t help but let her mind drift and it was not until the headmistress’s tone changed slightly, that Sarah began to focus once more on the words of her superior.

 

“Discipline is a part of any education. Every institution is bound by rules and founded by a code of conduct that governs behaviour. This is a lesson that is invested in the very stones of Harkwood. You have all received a student manual, a tome containing the rules by which this institution is governed. An intimate knowledge of all aspects is expected of every student both new and old. Each year there is always a testing of boundaries, a natural tendency to flaunt this new authority. The freedom that Harkwood provides is an important aspect of your education but do not take such for granted. I will now be joined by Chloe Taylor and Elise Wilson to read from a passage from the student manual.”

 

The moment the headmistress finished speaking, two young girls crept hesitantly onto the stage, each one clutching a slim volume in her trembling hands. Sarah could see they were new students, first year girls that could only have been at Harkwood a matter of weeks. She felt sorry for them. They were clearly terrified of having to be on stage in front of the entire school and they kept close together, finding comfort in each other. The headmistress stepped aside and lowered the microphone. The pretty blonde girl stepped forward, opened her book and whispered into the small black ball perched before her, reluctant to get too close as if she was a afraid it would reach out and bite her.

 

“Stand up straight. Loud and clear, enunciate,” Mrs Huffington Smythe instructed, looking imperiously down upon the young girl.

“Um. Each student is issued a suite of school uniforms  as part of their tuition at Harkwood Academy. The school colours are-“

“Yes thank you Miss Taylor. Miss Wilson?”

“Harkwood students are to be clothed in their supplied uniforms at all times within the school grounds.”

“Thank you girls. To my left. I hope these passages were clear to each and every one of you. These two students,” Mrs Huffington Smythe snapped, indicating the scared girls to her left with the long cane that had miraculously appeared in her hands, “decided that such rules did not apply to them. Not only were they discovered without clothing of any kind, in an area of the school not assigned for student access, but they were out of their dormitory after curfew. Such transgressions were traditionally dealt with  very publicly and very painfully. In this, our enlightened age,” the headmistress said with a sneer, “we deal with unruly behaviour in a more conservative manner. We shall now be joined by Jill Hutchinson and Louise Bentley, accomplices to the foolish escapade. Step forward young lady. Now what part did you play in this tawdry little production?”

“I, uh, we held their uniform,” Jill replied timidly, leaning forward until she almost touched the microphone with her lips. She looked sheepishly at the headmistress as the hall filled with the sonic squeal of feedback.

“A uniform is the responsibility of the individual student. It is not to be delegated to the care of another. Right then, stand in your positions.”

 

Both girls shuffled nervously away from the podium, their heads bowed low. It looked as if they were simply ashamed, their heads lowered in penitence, but Sarah could see their eyes dart across the stage. She knew they were searching for some mark that would identify where they were to stand. She had done so herself and recognised the behaviour. The girls were soon in place, fidgeting anxiously as the entire school focused upon them. Sarah’s had spared only the most cursory of glances for the schoolgirls, her gaze returning almost immediately to the headmistress. She had learnt a great deal about focus in the recent days and she was perhaps the first to understand the fate of the two terrified teens. Mrs Huffington Smythe stalked towards the girls, a long leather strap cradled in her hands. It was more than a foot long, the strip of supple brown leather a good two inches wide and shining smoothly beneath the bright stage lights.

 

“Miss Hutchinson, left hand forward. Palm up. You will receive two upon each hand. Do not remove your hand or you will receive the strike again.”

 

The small girl obeyed, her left arm rising slowly. Sarah could see the fear on her face. To receive such a punishment would no doubt be something far outside her normal sphere of experience, but to have it occur in front of the assembled school must be truly terrifying. She felt for the girls, but hopefully they would learn. Rules were important, so very important. Sarah watched as the girl’s face screwed up in anticipation of the coming blow. The headmistress made no comment but Sarah knew it wasn’t a good idea.

 

Without warning, the strap was raised and lowered in the blink of an eye. The hall was deathly silent and the loud, meaty slap echoed through the spacious room. Jill immediately snatched her hand away, hiding it behind her back, whimpering like a wounded animal. Sarah winced at the girl’s ill-discipline. She would need to do better than that. She had just been told what to do. It wasn’t that hard, all she was getting was two hits, on her hand. Sarah thought of her own bottom, the ever-evolving pattern of punishment aching, never letting her forget her place.

 

The headmistress said something to the snivelling young girl, too quiet to be heard by the gathered students. She immediately ceased her mournful moaning, her arm darting forward as if eager for the next blow. The strap landed once more and this time the young girl kept her hand out, though Sarah could see it had taken a great effort. The headmistress tapped the underside of Jill’s hand and she quickly raised it back to the proper level. At least she had not earned another.  The headmistress waited a moment before administering the final blow to the trembling girl’s left hand, making certain the first was fully absorbed.

 

Jill squealed as the strap struck the soft flesh of her palm for the third time. She looked fearfully at the headmistress, biting her lip nervously, hoping her outburst would not cost her too dearly. Mrs Huffington Smythe simply indicated for her to change hands, waiting patiently for the young girl to comply. As the strap struck for a fourth time, Sarah sensed movement beside her. She didn’t like to see other girl’s in pain, especially if she was the cause, but she knew Murphy was possessed of even more delicate sensibilities. She felt for her friend but she willed her to be still. She didn’t want to see her friend in trouble because of these girls.

 

Sarah watched silently as the punishment played out before her. Jill received her strokes without further mishap, stepping aside when it was her friends turn. Louise had learnt from her friends mistake, accepting her punishment stony-faced. Her eyes darted about the room, seeking for an escape that did not exist, but she held her tongue and stayed in position, despite the pain and rising panic Sarah could see was close to making her break.

 

“Attendance is predicated on a tacit acceptance of the rules and regulations that have made this hallowed institution the envy of many. The student manual with which each of you was supplied is a document, comprehensive and clear in its statement of those rules and in the prospective outcome if such rules are obeyed or ignored. Miss Hutchinson and Miss Bentley have received the requisite corrections for their misbehaviour. We turn now to Miss Taylor and Miss Wilson. As this is a first offence lenience will be shown. Miss Taylor, step forward. Assume the position.”

 

The pretty girl who had been waiting patiently in the background, now stepped forward, tears already glistening in her eyes. She positioned herself in the spot, recently vacated by her classmates, at the front of the stage and turned her back on the assembly. She bent forward at the waist, and, with shaking hands, reached back to flip her skirt onto her lower back. Sarah’s eyes widened as she saw the pert bottom covered by a thin layer of white material. She was wearing proper panties, clean and white that covered both her cheeks. Sarah almost broke position to feel her own behind, though she did not need to touch for the difference to be felt.

 

“Miss Hutchinson, take your classmate’s hands if you will.”

 

Jill shuffled forward reluctantly and accepted her friend’s outstretched hands. The entire school saw her wince when they made contact, the fresh pain from the strapping intensified by the pressure. The headmistress appeared at the young girl’s side, the thick leather strap substituted for a long, thin cane. Sarah scolded herself for her lapse. She had been too busy looking at the young girl’s panties and had missed the swap.

 

Sarah stood, transfixed by the public punishment. Two strokes were applied to the bottom of each girl, their accomplices made to hold their hands throughout. She wasn’t sure if the intent was for solidarity or to continue the punishment for the other girls. She witnessed the grimace that accompanied each blow, the schoolgirl’s grip tightening as the sharp pain of the cane bit.

 

All four girls were weeping quietly when the correction was completed. They were sent to stand at the far side of the stage, their distress clear for all to see. The assembly continued, the headmistress speaking as if nothing had happened, ignoring the plight of the four schoolgirls now their corrections were complete.

 

Sarah could not help her mind drifting. Nothing the headmistress said had anything to do with her or Trinity house. This assembly wasn’t for her, even though she was a Harkwood student. She knew her place and she remained silent and at attention, making sure her presence did not affect any of the proper students of the school. She couldn’t help but wonder about what she had seen. Mrs Huffington Smythe had mentioned leniency but each stroke of the cane or strap had been delivered with full force. Sarah knew the headmistress wasn’t one to do things by half. What could she have meant? The fact that the other students were not immune to physical punishment was something that she hadn’t expected. She knew corporal punishment hadn’t completely died out but it was still a concept that she hadn’t thought about before coming to Harkwood.

 

The assembly came, finally, to a brief musical conclusion, the stirring sounds blaring loudly through the hall. Sarah had no idea what it was, but the rest of the students stood and listened, before filing silently from the hall. The difference between their entrance and exit was marked. Had it been the punishment the four girls had received that sobered the rest of the student body? The tone of the assembly had been light, even somewhat jocular once the headmistress had handed over proceedings to some of the other staff members, so it must have been the shock of seeing their classmates punished that had given the schoolgirl’s reason for reflection. It was something with which she could empathise.

 

The prefects waited until the hall was emptied before issuing their commands to the silent girls of Trinity house. Their orders clear, the girls swarmed over the rows of seating, hurriedly replacing them into the alcoves at the rear of the hall. The moment Sarah stepped out of line, the spiked invader wedged deep inside her made its presence known. Its weight had never left her, but standing at attention, able to keep still, she had almost been able to forget the violation. She almost doubled over as the first sharp spike of pain shot up into her belly. It wasn’t any worse than what she had experienced already. She would get used to it again in a few minutes.

 

The hall was cleared in almost no time at all, the Trinity girls moving like a well-oiled machine. Miss Wallis, who Sarah now remembered was Ozawa’s handler, formed them into two lines and studied each girl before stepping back to inspect the class as a whole. Sarah knew what was expected of her but it had taken a great effort not to follow the tall girl with her eyes as she walked up and down the line. Sometimes her instincts weren’t right and she had to fight them. It was hard not to watch someone when they moved, especially when you knew the potential that lay within them. Sarah breathed a sigh of relief when they were dismissed.

 

The events of the assembly stayed with Sarah for the rest of the day. She didn’t have trouble focusing on her classes, she was committed to her studies and she did her best for each teacher, but in the spare moments between periods when she found herself standing in line, or locked in her cell, as she was now, her mind returned to what she had witnessed that morning. It had been another abysmal effort in dance class, the frown of displeasure on Madame De Witt’s face bored into her soul. She was anxious at her failure and didn’t realise she was fidgeting as she waited patiently in the darkness.

 

She could still remember the look on the face of the young girl as the strap slapped across her palm, the meaty sound of leather on flesh carrying all the way to the back of the hall. The look of shock, that small moment of surprise before the pain registered, followed by the full agony of the blow slamming into her senses. You were never the same after that first correction. No matter what came afterward, no matter how many corrections were received, the very first would stay with you and this girl would be no different, of that Sarah was certain.

 

She was getting a little better at judging time in the darkness of her cell and wondered where her handler was. She had been here for a good ten minutes now and each minute that passed was a minute she was not able to spend on her schoolwork, or with her friends. Sarah knew she missed out on a lot, not being in the dorm after classes. This was free time for the girls of Trinity house and she longed to be a part of it. She would though, she knew. Her first week had been riddled with detentions and poor behaviour, but that was all going to change. She had received just the one infraction today. If she could be good for the rest of the night, it would be the first time since school had started, that she would not have the highest number of infractions of any Trinity girl.

 

Sarah smiled a little at that, a smile filled with pride. She was glad of the darkness for once, such a smile could have brought trouble. A slut wasn’t supposed to be proud of such things, she should be as proud of the fact that she breathed. She couldn’t help it though. It had not been a good week for her. She had learnt a great many things and she had been forced to learn them quickly. She was still a little shocked at the twist her life had taken but she had been training for a week now and she was sure she was getting better. It wasn’t easy being a slut, it never would be, but the rewards for service, for being able to fulfil her destiny and be what she had been designed to be, more than made up for any hardship she would experience.

 

The soft click of the opening door startled the young girl, but she remained in position, straight-backed and still, when the tiny cell was flooded with light. Sarah had quickly closed her eyes, having already learnt that keeping them open would simply leave her blind. Her eyes fluttered, then blinked furiously, attempting to accommodate to the sudden illumination. Her belly tightened with the nervousness she felt  every time her handler collected her from her cell. Her skin tingled with the anticipation of hearing her handler speak. Sarah liked it so much more when she spoke straight away. She couldn’t quite shake the feeling that Miss Harper was somehow angry with her if she was silent for more than a few seconds.

 

“How did you go today?”

“Very good thank you Miss.”

“And dance?”
“Um, I think I am getting better Miss, but…”

“But you’re still shithouse, is that what you’re trying to say?”
“Yes Miss, sorry,” Sarah said, cringing at the undisguised disappointment.

“Infractions?”
“No more since lunch, Miss.”

“That’s something at least. And how’s that pussy?”

“Wet Miss, and a little sore.”

“Well I hope you’re learning. We’ll see if we can’t get that ball out of there tomorrow if you continue to be good.”

“Oh, thank you Miss,” Sarah replied with genuine joy. Not only was her handler looking out for her but she had recognised she had been good. She would continue to be good.

 

The excited schoolgirl almost failed to stand still while her handler released her from the wall, so buoyed was she by the older girl’s statement. A strange smell, sharp and caustic, almost made her draw back as Harper’s hand unfastened the padlock at her neck. Sarah’s nose wrinkled but she managed to control herself. She hadn’t smelt the biting aroma before and it was a scent with which she did not wish to become familiar.  She was dying to ask her handler what it was but it was not her place to pry into the affairs of a superior. If Miss Harper thought she should know, then she would tell her. Curiosity was a hard habit to curb.

 

She was unfettered for only a moment before the padlock was replaced by her leash. She knew it wasn’t hers, and she knew Miss Harper would use it on any slut that required it, but it was hard to think of the words that she could use to describe something that seemed like hers, while knowing a slut, being property herself, could not claim ownership of anything, not even her body.

 

“Miss Vonn has done a really great job in working on some extra routines to get you up to speed with the rest of the class. Well more than that really. She was very understanding of my need for you to be the best.”

 

Sarah listened apprehensively to her handler. She was being marched through the empty corridors, the school seemingly deserted even as they made their way to the gymnasium. Had the assembly really affected the other students so profoundly that they were staying in their dorms?

 

The gym was empty, all the wonderful machines sitting quiet, dormant. It seemed such a sad room when it wasn’t filled with young girls exercising, making their bodies strong and attractive. She was glad her handler was taking the time out to help with her fitness. She’d much rather be spending her time exercising than in detention, despite the lessons she learned there. Sarah was led into the gymnasium, the huge open hall, empty and almost completely dark. A single small circle in the centre of the hall was illuminated.

 

“Change into your gym uniform.”

 

Sarah obeyed quickly undressing as she had been taught. It was a little strange, removing her clothes while her handler stood by holding her leash, but she didn’t let it distract her from her task. Her uniform went into her bag and onto her hook, her gym uniform quickly taking its place. She moved as sensuously as she could, displaying what she had learnt in the hopes of pleasing her handler.

 

She had cringed a little once she saw the crotch of her gym shorts, crusty with the dried cream from earlier in the day. Miss Vonn had allowed her to remove the spiked ball from her pussy during gym, knowing it would affect her performance too greatly. Would her handler do the same?

 

She had been profusely grateful to her teacher for her thought. She knew it hadn’t had anything to do with how she had felt, but it would have affected the training Miss Vonn had devised and Sarah was just thankful she had not missed out on something else because of her poor behaviour of the previous days. She was fully dressed before Harper spoke again.

 

“That’s right, that thing in your cunt. Right, pants down and bend forward. Now, push for me, there’s a good girl.”

 

Sarah tensed when she felt her handlers fingers slip deftly inside her. By now she was used to her body being invaded so casually, the brief flexing of her muscles at the initial penetration, her only outward response. She knew better than to push back on her handler’s fingers. Miss Harper did not enjoy touching her pussy and she knew it would be interpreted badly. The submissive schoolgirl enjoyed the touch, how could she not, but she was more interested in the object to be retrieved.

 

Sarah pushed down with the muscles of her vagina, doing her best to move the ball towards the invading fingers. It hurt but her pain was irrelevant. Miss Harper would know she had obeyed. Her pussy had squeezed the older girl’s fingers as much as it had the spiked intruder.  She couldn’t help but grunt, a short, sharp sound, when fingers met metal, the small blunt spikes forced against the sensitive walls of her pussy.

 

Sarah tied her best to keep silent but she moaned softly, yelping once or twice as a particularly tender spot was scraped as the metal ball made its journey to the entrance of her sex.

 

The schoolgirl sighed with relief when it was finally pulled free. She knew a slut yearned to have her holes filled but this was one time she was happy for her pussy to be empty. She did sense the void inside her now, but it was a tiny feeling, easily ignored.

 

“Up. Pants on. Clean.”

 

Sarah did as she was told, taking the small metal ball from her handler’s tentative grasp once she was dressed. She immediately brought it to her mouth and licked it clean. Her tongue slid between the stubby spikes, seeking every last smear of the white ooze. Her taste was strong, but that was understandable, as it had been inside her all day.

 

Once the object was clean, the silver surface shining with saliva only, she placed it inside clothes bag under the direction of her handler. She stood dutifully at attention while the short chain leash was replaced with one much longer and made of a pretty black rope.

 

It wasn’t really her new leash that had caught her attention, however. Her handler had returned from the darkness at the front of the hall with both hands full: leash in her right and whip in her left. It was unlike anything she had seen so far. The handle looked to be longer than Miss Watson’s cane and the whip was extremely fine, as if it was merely a single strand. She didn’t like the look of the wicked implement, unable to take her eyes from its bobbing length  as she followed her handler into the central column of light.

 

“Red line, slut. Do you see the circle? Good. You will stay on that line for the duration of the session,” Harper explained, standing in the very centre of the circle. The leash stretched loosely from her hand to Sarah’s neck, with only a little slack to spare. She coiled the remainder into her hand and lifted the whip.

 

“Miss Vonn informs me you often require motivation. I hope you shan’t force me to use this too often. What say you slut?”

“I’ll do my best Miss,” Sarah replied meekly.

“If your best is not good enough, then only you shall pay the price for your failure. There is no hiding in a group of sluts now Porter.”

“No Miss,” Sarah said strongly, resenting the implication. She would never try to hide among her classmates. It was true that she didn’t ever want to be first but that wasn’t the same thing, was it?

“Face right. Hands behind your back. Prance, each knee nice and high. Good girl, this one I know you can do. A little faster. Keep them high,” Harper snapped.

 

Sarah felt a quick rush of air past her hands, followed a split second later by the unmistakable crack of the whip. Her handler had flicked and missed, unused to the strange whip. The young girl didn’t think she would be so lucky a second time. She pushed her knees higher, prancing as gracefully as she could.

 

“Forward. Faster.”

 

Sarah walked as fast as she could, round and around the small red circle stencilled on the floor. Each time she strayed even a little from the circle, the rope at her throat went taut, pulling her back on course. It was a strange sensation, walking in a circle, light on her left and darkness on her right. She could see her handler from the corner of her eye, a blurry shape in the centre of the bright beam.

 

“Faster. Hands in position”

 

This time the whip landed, snaking across her upper arm and back. She yelped at the sudden sting but moved her hands back into position. They had slipped sideways a little when she had stepped up the pace. It wasn’t easy to prance so quickly with her arms behind her. It was difficult to balance and she had to rely more and more on the sharp tugs at her collar to remind her of her circuit.

 

“Stop. How are you feeling slut?”

“Good Miss,” Sarah panted.

“Excellent. A nice little warm-up. About face. Alternate steps, knee high, launch yourself into the air. You may use your arms. Go.”

 

Sarah hadn’t quite understood what her handler wanted but with the help of the thin whip she was soon skip-prancing around her handler. She jumped into the air each time she raised her knee, swinging her arms for balance and momentum. It was not an easy thing to do but she soon had the hang of it, moving swiftly in the tight circle, the long leash bouncing with her every step.

 

“Stop. Five pushups. About face. Resume.”

 

Sarah was panting heavily now, the pace her handler had set was a gruelling one. She had already had gym today, and dance and now with this rigorous routine she was beginning to tire. She didn’t falter, knowing how important it was to show Miss Harper, in this session, how determined she was. She had let her handler down so many times, she needed to start showing her just what she could do. She needed to show Miss Harper that she hadn’t been lumped with the worst slut in Trinity house.

 

“Stop. Five squats. About face. Resume. Stop. Turn right. Five jumping jacks. Turn left. Resume.”

 

Harper worked the girl for a solid twenty minutes before allowing a rest. Sarah was panting, her chest heaving with each effort to fill her lungs and yet she had remained at attention. A rather slovenly attempt but an attempt nonetheless. The prefect walked towards the sweating schoolgirl, coiling the long leash slowly with each step. Sarah watched her handler approach, trying her best to calm her frantic body. Her heart was thumping in her chest, each pulse sending a hot surge of blood to her head, ears nearly deafened by the loud, piston-like beat.

 

The loosely coiled rope was hung upon the young girl’s shoulder, the prefect moving off into the darkness without a word. Sarah could feel the beads of sweat dripping down her body, soaking into the brief gym uniform she wore. The salty moisture beaded her upper lip and she could not resist the temptation a moment longer. Her tongue snaked out quickly, licking her lip free of the sweat that had been annoying her for some time. Miss Harper hadn’t seen her, of that she was sure, but the anxiety of knowing she had done something without permission gnawed at her belly. It was done, she couldn’t change that now. What she needed to do was focus on getting her breathing under control. She hated the weakness she felt when her lack of fitness was exposed in this way.

 

So preoccupied was she with her introspection that Sarah failed to notice the return of her handler. She jumped forward, knocking the rope leash to the floor, her hands flying to cover the back of her thighs. The futile, and disobedient, gesture was far too late. The thin whip had already struck and recoiled, leaving a stinging red line of pure agony across the young girl’s flesh. It didn’t matter how many times the whip licked across her skin, each fresh strike felt like a hot knife had caressed her body. Seconds later her high-pitched squeal was still echoing around the empty gymnasium, mocking her inability to do as she was told.

 

Sarah quickly recovered, standing at a strict attention, her gaze forlornly set upon a distant point in the darkness. She knew she was in trouble. Her handler hadn’t whipped her for nothing, her posture had been lacking no doubt, but the thought of the leash lying in a heap at her feet sent an icy chill down her spine. It was still attached to her collar and she could feel the rough rope brushing against her breasts as it snaked its way down her body. Sarah’s shoulders tensed as she sensed her handler approach.

 

“Get back on the line. You are here to improve your behaviour and performance. I’m not seeing much of an effort on either to be honest.”

 

Sarah’s heart sank as she heard her handler’s cold, clipped words. She was trying, she really was, it was just that… She didn’t really know why she continued to fail. There was just so much to remember and it was all harder for her because she hadn’t had any of the preparation the other girls had. She had been a virgin when she came to Harkwood, but not only that, she had lived a rather sheltered life and it was holding her back now. She would get better, she knew she would. The journey was going to be hard, she knew that too. But she was trying. It wasn’t fair to say she wasn’t even trying. She wanted…

 

Sarah opened her mouth to allow the rubber nipple of her water-bottle to slide between her parted lips. She had been hoping the break was so she could quench her raging thirst. She was hungry too, her belly grumbling as if on cue, but that would have to wait until Miss Harper decided the session was complete. She began to drink at the soft command from her handler, all harshness having left the older girl’s tone. Was she not mad with her? She had definitely sounded mad. The rope dangling from her collar felt like a noose around her neck, constantly reminding her of her most recent failure.

 

“Get that ass squatting and keep it moving until I say.”

 

Sarah obeyed instantly. Lowering her bottom towards the floor in a perfect squat, knees spreading in a smooth, even movement, the nipple falling from her mouth in mid-swallow. The prefect gathered the stray leash and walked backwards into the centre of the circle, pulling the rope behind her. She watched her charge perform two squats and, satisfied, placed the rope on the floor in a neat line. It moved a little as Sarah’s body rose and fell, slipping towards her sightly as her neck pulled it taut with each squat. This time she stayed alert, ready for the return of her handler. She was focused on her posture and her movements, keeping them as graceful and fluid as she could. She had done ten, and still there was no sign of Miss Harper. Sarah continued to keep count, thinking that her handler may ask her how many she had done.

 

“Okay slut,” Harper said, only a few feet behind Sarah, “let’s see if we can’t see some real effort this time.” Sarah had been ready this time. The quiet scuff of a shoe had given away the prefect’s stealthy approach. She suppressed a tiny smile of triumph, recognising how terrible a misinterpretation of it could be. “Stay down there. About face. Walk.”

 

Sarah grimaced at what lay ahead. She hated this duckwalking, not only was it hard to do but she felt just a little wrong. It highlighted her lack of coordination but it was more than that. Her pussy was always in her thoughts while she struggled her way around the circle. The tight material of her shorts hugged her mound like a second skin, the seam slipping up between her plump pudenda. The dark material hid nothing, the perfect outline of her each full lip and the slender cleft between easily visible. She knew what was going on behind that thin veil of material as well. Her pussy, slick with the day’s arousal, would be laying down a fresh coat of cream on the crotch of her small gym panties. She would be obliged to clean them but at least this was one behaviour she knew she could do well.

 

Only a week ago, the idea of licking her panties clean of her own discharge would have made her squirm. Now she relished the chance, enjoying the taste of her sex, happy in the knowledge that it was an important part of being a slut and that, in this at least, she was not failing. It was small comfort as she found herself already struggling to maintain the pace her handler had set. The constant pressure at her collar was a little annoying but it did keep her on the line. Without her handler’s guidance she would no doubt have been wobbling all over the place.

 

“Up. Five pushups. About face. Five pushups. About face. Trot. Not jog, trot. Come on slut, listen. Knees high. Look if you’re not interested in putting in the minimum effort we may as well call it off and you can just have another detention. Head up. Shoulders back. Knees up, both knees slut. Hold the line. Eyes forward. Head up. Eyes forward. Right we may as well stop.”
“I’m trying,” Sarah snapped. Her face went pale, the shock of what she had done turning her blood cold in her veins. “Miss, I’m sorry. Miss Harper, please I didn’t mean it, I’m really sorry.”

 

She was babbling now, frantically trying to repair the damage she had done. She knew it was futile. She knew she should just shut up and quit while she was behind, but something kept her mouth moving. She had stopped and turned to the older girl, pleading pitifully for forgiveness. The cold, detached look on her handler’s face make the next words die on her lips. Tears welled in her eyes, the fear of the repercussions of her outburst gripping her like a hand from the grave.

 

“How many?”

“Um, p..pardon Miss.”

“How many do you want?” the prefect said, swishing the whip lazily by her side.

“Oh, um. Please may I have fi… um te… fifteen,” Sarah finally managed, correcting her request at the ominously elevated eyebrow of her handler.

“Right then, fifteen. Pushup, then squat, then jumping jack then whip. Remove your uniform.”

 

Sarah trembled as her sentence was announced. She knew the whip would soon be slicing her soft flesh once more, but the added exercises made it all seem too daunting. She was already tired, the rigorous session Miss Vonn had devised would get her fit, if it didn’t give her a heart attack first. Her uniform was soaked, the stretchy material sticking to her skin as if reluctant to be parted. The inside of her shorts was wet for an entirely different reason, the white smear doing nothing but make her feel even more morose. She was so fucking stupid. She couldn’t even remember to keep her fucking mouth shut. It was for cock not to lash out at a superior because of her own shortcomings. Her body seemed to be doing the right things, why couldn’t her brain just follow along.

 

“Start and finish each set with your hands on your head, fingers interlocked. Begin.”

 

The frightened schoolgirl threw herself into the exercises. She had already been puffing noisily but she dug deep, finding those secret reserves of energy Miss Vonn had helped her to discover. She completed her first set and stood, tense as she waited for the blow to land. Her body was completely exposed to her handler, her arms beside her head, fingers interweaved, knuckles whitening as what felt like forever passed slowly by. She had almost begun to relax when the single, slim tail of the whip sliced across her back. The naked schoolgirl screamed as the pain seized her in its wicked claw.

 

There was no time to wallow in the agony that seemed to pierce right through her body, she immediately through herself into the next set of exercises, hoping for distraction. Time flowed all too quickly, Sarah soon finding herself standing once more, naked and vulnerable and waiting for the second lash to land. The pain lacerated her fragile senses, striking at the very heart of her. She screamed, despite her vow to accept her punishment with the good grace of a slut. She had to be bleeding. She could feel the blood trickle down her back. There was no way she could take fifteen of these. Why was she so fucking stupid? She would rather straddle the copper rail than feel that vicious tail once more.

 

Sarah lost herself in a shadowy world of pain and exhaustion. Time held no meaning for her any longer. She had no conception of what she was doing or why, no idea how many sets she had completed. She could see her body performing each exercise. She saw Miss Harper swing her arm. She watched as the whip flicked towards her, the tail moving fast, an almost invisible black blur. She saw everything as if it played out on a stage below her, the terrifying tableaux lit by a single spotlight as if heaven itself wished to highlight her struggle.

 

She was sobbing with abandon, her shoulders bobbing uncontrollably once the final stroke had been delivered. She could barely see, her eyes red and puffy and full of still falling tears. Her nose had begun to run long ago, the thick stream of translucent mucus dangling below. Her back was intact, marked by fifteen bright lines, each red band incredibly thin and seemingly glowing from within. The glancing strikes that had motivated her during her session seeming pale and faint in comparison.

 

“Porter? Face me. What do you have to say for yourself?”

“S...sorry Miss. I w…want, I mean I… Um,” Sarah tried to steady herself. She was out of breath, not only from the effort she had expended but the fit of tears made it nearly impossible to talk. She had to breathe through her mouth, her nose completely blocked. She wanted to say she was sorry, properly. She knew her handler deserved an apology that befit her station. It wasn’t just her breathing though, she couldn’t seem to get her brain to work. The agony from her back seemed to grow more intense with each beat of her heart, the pain of each pulse causing her to bite back a scream that she knew would only anger Miss Harper further. A slut should be seen  and not heard during punishment, she knew that.

“Compose yourself slut. This is exactly the kind of lazy behaviour which is getting you into trouble. Why are you blubbering? Are you in pain? What is pain? Think about what you are Porter, instead of worrying about things beyond your control. The pain is a part of what you are. This performance is quite tiring.”

 

Sarah struggled to regain control of her emotions. She knew her handler was right but it wasn’t helping. She didn’t want to be told what she was doing wrong. She wanted someone to hold her and tell her it would be alright. Who was going to make it alright? She was the only person who could do that but that was something she didn’t want to hear. She wanted Murphy or Mitchell to comfort her, caress her and kiss her tears away. But there was no help coming. This was up to her. She was a slut, she had to learn to be strong, to serve when she was needed the most. The young girl grit her teeth and set her shoulders, trying hard to arrest the jerky movements that seemed to have such a hold upon her.

 

“I’m sorry Miss. Thank you for punishing me and helping me to be a better slut. My behaviour was atrocious and I can only hope that you will punish me until you are satisfied I have learnt my lesson. I am just a slut.”

“I am satisfied Porter. I am not satisfied in your commitment, however. Your outburst was just indicative of your attitude as a whole. You will continue to be punished until you stop this lackadaisical approach to your training.  When you are told to do something you obey. You don’t decide what is the minimum amount of effort you can get away with. You exist to serve, slut. You do as you are told. That’s not too hard now is it?”
“No Miss,” Sarah replied meekly. She already knew all this. She thought she had been doing what she was told. She was trying so hard.

“Ok then slut, do you think that is enough exercise for one session?”
“Um, I can do more Miss. I am a slut.”

“I am sure you could do more, but I think that is enough for one session. That is what is important. Put your uniform back on. No slut your school uniform. Don’t just leave your gym clothes on the floor. And look at the mess you’ve made. Clean that up.”

 

Sarah saw the small wet patch on the gym floor where her sweat-soaked gym clothes had lain during her punishment. The damp area wasn’t too large, the benefit of her careful folding. She quickly sank to her knees and licked the polished floor clean. The strong salty flavour could not completely hide the subtle taste of dust and dirt that lay beneath. The floor never seemed to truly get clean as the thin layer of condensation from her clothing was simply replaced by that of her saliva. Once she had worked the small square a few times she decided it would be deemed clean and rose gracefully to her feet to stand at attention.

 

“Uniform.”

 

The rope was removed from her collar, allowing the young girl to make her way unhindered to the doors and her waiting uniform. Her handler disappeared, returning empty-handed when she was already half-clothed. Sarah winced and could not contain the soft whine when her bra was pulled tight across her back. The pain from her whipping spiked once more, though this time is was a little less sharp.

 

“When you get to your dorm we’ll go straight to Miss Peach, she’ll see to those.”

“Thank you Miss,” Sarah hissed as she stretched into her blouse.

 

It was nice of her handler to think of her after what she had done. She had always tried to be respectful but that one lapse of judgement, that one tiny moment, let her know that she had much further to go before she could even think of herself as a good slut. She was glad she had people to look out for her.

 

The moment she was dressed, her normal leash was clipped to her collar and her handler led her from the gym. The school was eerily empty as they made their way to the Trinity dorm. Dinner would not be far away and still the corridors were silent and still. Even though she could not be seen, her handler being two steps in front, Sarah tried to walk as smoothly and sensuously as she could.

 

Her back remained a constant ache, the tight strap of her bra sending a bright bar of pain across her tortured torso. The steps were the worst. She had to fight the urge to hunch over with every upward step. They were soon on the landing that led to her dorm and she could hear the muted sounds of her classmates from the end of the hall. The thought of finally being back with her class lifted her spirits, the soft murmur of voices comforting her after the uncomfortable silence of the rest of the school. She looked longingly into her dorm, catching a brief glimpse of Murphy talking to Shah and Ozawa, before Miss Harper pulled her into the housemistress’s room.

 

“Evening Clarice. What’s this slut been up to now?”

“Hey Miss Peach. Just an extra exercise session, working out a few of her kinks. She’s got some marks on her back though, could you take care of them?”

“Sure, my dear. You run along and leave her in my capable hands.”

“Thanks.”

 

Sarah had wanted to say goodbye to her handler, to apologise once more to the girl who had taken on such a responsibility to help with her training. Her silence and her strict posture were her only ways to make amends for her earlier failures. She heard the teenager leave the room without acknowledging her further. She had done enough for one night.

 

“Well now Porter, what have you been up to hmmm. Where are these marks?”

“On my back Mistress,” the young girl replied meekly. She liked Miss Peach but she was intimidated by her as well. She wasn’t a teacher but she was still an important part of her education.

“Well off with them then.”

 

Sarah quickly removed her tie, blouse and bra, setting them down on the end of the settee upon which Miss Peach lounged. She turned around to show off the evidence of her most recent misbehaviour, glad the housemistress could not see the furious blush that coloured her cheeks as she exposed her back to the woman and her breasts to the doorway.  No one was likely to see her, other than her classmates, but the casual nudity that was expected of a slut was still something she needed to work on.

 

“Did your handler do this?”

“Yes Mistress,” Sarah said, suddenly apprehensive. Had Miss Harper done something wrong. She didn’t want her to get in any trouble.

“Very nice work. A dressage whip?”

“Um, I am a slut Mistress.”
“Describe it then slut. You need to learn the instruments of correction you know.”

“Mistress, it had a long stiff handle and a really thin tail that came from the top.”

“Yes, slut, that is a dressage whip. Very good. I hope you thanked your handler for the hard work that she invested in you.”

“Yes Mistress,” Sarah replied, trying to keep the hesitation from her voice. She had thanked Miss Harper, but had she done it properly. Had she been profuse enough to truly impart how grateful she was for all the prefects hard work?

“Ok, come on through.”

 

Sarah followed the short woman through the bedroom and into the tiled bathroom beyond. Her belly tingled nervously as memories of her last visit flooded back. She glimpsed the cages against the wall to the left and the cabinet that she knew was full of all manner of plugs and dildos.

 

“Kneel. Hands on your knees slut. You know Porter, you really do have rather exquisite breasts,” the housemistress said, reaching out to gently squeeze her firm bosom.

“Thank you Mistress,” the young girl replied, the tender touch sending a flutter through her body.

“Well then, let’s see. I have just the thing. This will help with the healing but there is no anaesthetic component like some other inferior compounds. No favours are done by limiting a sluts experience. Hold still.”

 

Sarah tensed as she waited for what she was sure would be more pain. Whatever Miss Peach was going to put on her was bound to sting terribly. It was a mild surprise when all she felt was a soothing coolness along each line of fire across her back. The housemistress applied the salve carefully to each thin welt. The very touch itself was painful but it was nothing like she had expected. She relaxed completely, enjoying the calming balm and Miss Peach’s delicate fingers.   

 

“There we are. We’ll let that dry for ten minutes and another application before bed and they’ll look even more beautiful in the morning.”

“Thank you Mistress,” the schoolgirl replied dreamily.

“Ten minutes, well then. Let’s put that time to good use. Come.”

 

She hadn’t been given permission to rise so Sarah crawled after the housemistress, glancing down briefly at her breasts swaying gently beneath her. It was nice to be complemented, even if it was on her equipment. It meant she was pleasing and that was all she was striving to be.

 

Miss Peach slipped her skirt off and threw it lazily behind her on the bed, giving Sarah the perfect view of the older woman’s bare pussy. The lips were not as full as her own, the slimmer labia set widely apart, revealing the deep pink flesh between. The little silver H sat at the top of her slit shone in the light like a beacon to the clit underneath.

 

She remembered the taste of her housemistress. It was not subtle in any way, a powerful musky flavour that was strikingly different to anything else she had encountered so far. She didn’t like it as much as her own, or any of the other girl’s in her class, but she would learn to love it, she was sure.

 

“On you get my little cuntlicker. We don’t have all day for you to admire it.”

 

Sarah’s response was to lunge forward, burying her face between the woman’s legs. She closed her mouth over the moist slit, sending her tongue delving as deeply as she could. The flavour flooded her mouth, her tastebuds suddenly steeped in the moisture coating the delicate folds of Miss Peach’s pussy.

 

She only had ten minutes and she could only assume that her task was to give the housemistress an orgasm. She would do all she could, employing every skill she had been taught. Her training was terribly inadequate but it was greater than any of her classmates, she knew that. In the short week she had been studying at Harkwood she had eaten how many, three cunts? Four? Her instruction had been rudimentary but she had an instinct for what to do, a slut’s instinct.

 

She took her cues from Miss Peach’s body, licking harder, sucking the tiny button into her mouth and flicking her tongue frantically across the hard bud. She heard the moans grow louder and pushed her mouth tighter against the hot pussy. Sarah knew her own body was responding to the attention she was giving the headmistress, but she tried to ignore the slow grinding of her hips. Her nose bumped roughly against Miss Peach’s pussy. Her eyes watered as the housemistress wrapped her legs around her, knees locking tightly behind her head, mashing her mouth against the wet slit. She could barely breathe and she knew there would be no release until the woman came.

 

Her knuckles turned white as she fought against the urge to free herself. If she laid one hand on her superior she knew retribution would be swift and hard. The trapped schoolgirl licked and sucked and rubbed her face manically against the pungent cunt, striving to serve in the best way she could.

 

The orgasm when it came almost broke her neck, such was the force of Miss Peach’s spasms. Fortunately it did not last long. Her housemistress lay back, suddenly spent. The powerful orgasm left both panting. Sarah was hot and sweaty once again, her own arousal elevating her temperature despite her partial nudity. She knew better than to stop, continuing to lick the quivering sex. Her tongue slid languidly over the puffy snatch, cleaning it as best she could. A slut was to complete a task until told to stop, and that was especially pertinent when it came to eating a pussy. She remembered Miss Peach liked to have her inner lips sucked after she had come and Sarah carefully drew the dainty folds of flesh into her mouth.

 

She rolled the wrinkled lips across her tongue, pushing down a smile when she felt the housemistress squirm at her attention. The tingling between her legs had only grown more intense as her service continued. If she was permitted she could have come in seconds. She did not deserve such a gift and wondered just how long it would be before she was again allowed to sate her own pleasure.

 

It wasn’t important and she tried not to think too much about it but the insistent sensations from her pussy made it more and more difficult the longer she was denied. She had to control her cunt though, her entire first week had been about this lesson. Three detentions had been earned because she could not do so. If she was to be able to study then she would need to stop her pussy from ruling her.

 

Her owner’s pussy, she corrected. That was something else she would have to learn. It helped with her control, acknowledging that her body belonged to another. Her equipment was her owner’s, she was just utilising it to serve. Her owner’s pussy was part of her equipment, an orgasm was not. That was what she must remember.

 

“Enough of that slut. Display.”

 

A shiver of delight swept through her body as her tiny panties were pulled aside revealing the schoolgirl’s cream-soaked slit. A single, slender finger slipped between her lips. Sarah grunted quietly when the spiked ball inside her was nudged by Miss Peach’s questing finger.

 

“You are incredibly wet, slut. Do you enjoy this instrument of learning in your cunt?”

“No Mistress,” Sarah replied truthfully. She knew its presence had played a part in her arousal but she could honestly say she did not enjoy having it inside her.

“Tell me why this cunt is sopping wet then?”

“My owner’s pussy is sopping wet from eating your pussy Mistress. I exist to serve.”

“Oh you’re a sweet little thing Porter. Quite a talented little mouth too. I’ll be keeping an eye on your progress. With your talent I think you could be better than Rascal. Would you like that?”

“Yes Mistress.”

 

The young girl didn’t know quite how to take that compliment. Rascal was a fully trained slut. If she could be that good it would make her amazingly happy. She hoped she would be there one day. She shouldn’t need to hope, Sarah thought, scolding herself mildly. She would work hard and she would be better than Rascal. She thought of the pretty girl, so cute in her maid uniform. She knew Miss Peach used her a lot and Sarah looked forward to seeing her again. To have an example of what she should be was an incredible boon.

 

“Ok slut, back to attention. As pretty as that cunt is, you have duties. I want to see you back here straight after evening ablutions. Replace your blouse and tie.”

“Thank you for the chance to serve, Mistress.”

“Quite,” was Miss Peach’s only response. She was already reaching for her skirt, indicating unequivocally that the schoolgirl had been dismissed.

 

Sarah hurried into the lounge where she had removed her uniform. She had not failed to note the fact that her bra had been omitted from the items of her uniform she was to replace. In a way she was glad, the strap of the bra on her freshly whipped back had been terrible, even during the short walk to the dorm. She was grateful for the thought of her welfare but all she could think of was how her breasts would feel, and move, under her blouse.

 

“Porter?”

“Yes Mistress,” the young girl answered, turning fully-clothed to face the housemistress. Miss Peach leant languidly against in the doorway to the bedroom.

“Do you like my cunt?”

“Yes Mistress.”

“It tastes very nice, yes?”
“Oh yes Mistress,” Sarah said apprehensively. She didn’t particularly enjoy the flavour of the older woman, but she would never admit it. She knew honesty was important but she knew there was a basic respect for her superiors that she must always adhere to.

“You’re very sweet to say so. Rascal doesn’t like my cunt you know. Oh her cunt juices when I allow her the pleasure but she doesn’t like the taste. She would enjoy yours though, I just know it. When you come back tonight you can have another taste if you’re good.”

“Thank you Mistress,” Sarah replied, a little bewildered by the reason for the admission.

“This pin is to be worn until your bra is returned. It indicates you have a special dispensation for the alteration to your uniform.”

 

Sarah looked at the little rectangular bar that Miss Peach was about to pin on her. It was a small lapel pin with alternating bars of blue, white, blue. All she could think of were those little coloured medals that soldiers wore but this was attached to her left lapel instead of her chest. She knew that this pin was probably covered in her school manual and she wondered how many others there were. The ache in her nipples worsened as her tight blouse pressed against them. The loss of the bra made no difference to her nipples but the shape of her breast was different. She could sense that they sat a little lower and were pushed together by the shirt she would have sworn was a size too small in her old life.

 

“What a precocious little slut you are Porter,” Miss Peach said admiringly, her hand brushing gently across the prominent tips of her breasts. “It is a nice invitation but there’s isn’t time now. Maybe when you come back tonight. Dismissed.”

 

Sarah curtseyed to the housemistress and made her way to her dorm. She looked at the clock upon leaving and smiled, noting she had a few minutes before Trinity house needed to head down to dinner. She would have enough time to put her bra in her cupboard and find her friends.

 

Mitchell was waiting for her on the small podium just inside the entrance to the lounge. She jumped to her feet the moment she saw Sarah emerge from Miss Peach’s room. The busty American was smiling joyously at her, not able and not wanting to disguise her happiness at the schoolgirl’s arrival. Sarah smiled back, captured by the infectious excitement of her friend.

 

“Hey Mitch, been waiting long,” Sarah said coyly.

“No, I finished off my dildo practice a little while ago, but I’ve been thinking about piercings for my owner’s pussy while I’ve been waiting.”

 

Sarah could tell Mitchell was proud of her actions. She was dying to ask about the dildo practice her friend had been doing but she needed to get her bra away. There was no way she was missing this meal. She hadn’t been able to have dinner with her classmates for days and she missed it terribly. It would also be a chance to have a real meal instead of the vile tasting concoction she was forced to drink during her detentions. She had never tasted anything as horrid.

 

“I’ve just got to put my bra away, Mitch.”

“Can I come with you?”
“Sure,” Sarah said, a little bemused by the request.

 

The schoolgirls walked hand in hand into the dorm, squatting down to scan their tags at the doorway but not relinquishing their hold on each other. Most of her classmates were getting ready to head out of the dorm, checking their uniform in the mirror. The inspection they had undergone before assembly had made an impression. Earning an infraction for having a sock too low was a real possibility now.

 

Murphy looked up as they entered, her lustrous red hair hanging loosely around her face like a flaming hood. She was exquisite, Sarah thought. She sat cross-legged on her bed, reading her student manual like a good slut. Her skirt was pulled tautly across her lap, revealing the small whit panties beneath. Sarah smiled at that, knowing the position was carefully cultivated. Even with Mitchell at her side, tightly clutching her hand, Sarah could think of nothing but the deliciously pink pussy that lay hidden behind that thin layer of silky white material. She quickly hung her bra in her cupboard.

 

Murphy patted the bed beside her and Sarah sat happily. This was what she wanted after a day of classes, simply to be with her friends, if only for a few moments.  Mitchell sat down opposite, refusing to relinquish her hold on the petite teen to whom she looked for guidance and so much more.

 

“That’s pretty,” Murphy said, tapping the tiny pin.

“Special dispensation to be without a bra,” Sarah replied matter-of-factly. She continued at the quizzical looks of both her friends, though she was now suddenly nervous to admit what she had done. “I, uh, talked back to my handler and she had to punish me. I got a whipping and Miss Peach put some cream on it but said not to wear a bra. I ate her pussy while the cream dried.”

 

Sarah wasn’t entirely sure why she added that last part. She wasn’t boasting and she instantly regretted mentioning it. She could easily have stopped after her explanation of why she was wearing the pin. Was the strong aroma of Miss Peach’s pussy the cause. Her mouth and chin still felt a little sticky and the smell came to her in occasional waves. Surely her friends had noticed?

 

“Is that what that is?” Murphy said as if reading her mind.

“Uh, yeah.”

“What was it like?” Mitchell ventured, edging eagerly forward.

“Um, nice. Strong and doesn’t taste as nice as some others but it is a nice pussy and she came so I was happy.”

“Would you taste my pussy after dinner?” Mitchell asked hesitantly. “Uh, I mean not if you don’t want to I just thought it might be, I mean you could say if my pussy tastes nice.”

“Whose pussy?” Sarah said with a wry grin, knowing how anxious her friend was after what she had asked.

“Oh my owner’s pussy,” Mitchell replied sheepishly, blushing at her mistake.

 

Sarah laughed revelling in the joyful camaraderie she had with her friends. It had taken coming to a school on the other side of the world, one where her life was changed forever for her to find the friendship she had craved. She would do anything for these girls, eating Mitchell’s pussy was something she shouldn’t have to be nervous about. Murphy was her study partner but a slut should sample as many cunts as she could.

 

“I’d love to Mitch. As soon as we get back from dinner. I have to go back and see Miss Peach after the showers but before that should be ok.”
“You still got that thing in you Port?”

“Yeah,” Sarah replied, her smile fading a little at the reminder of the correctional instrument that was lodged deep in her vagina.

“When can you get it out?”
“Whenever my superiors decide that I have learned my lesson I guess.”

Sarah was proud of her response. It showed she was respectful of her place and her need for correction. She was a slut. It wasn’t up to her to decide anything, least of all when a correction should be complete. How she had slept so deeply with it inside her last night she did not know, she could only hope that she could repeat the blissful slumber tonight.

 

She didn’t want to think of that now. The night was still young and held so much possibility. She would have dinner with her classmates and come back to the dorm for some much needed study. She had promised to eat her friend’s pussy and, if she dared to admit it, the thought made her more excited than the study she had neglected.

 

Servicing a pussy was study though, Sarah reasoned, even if it was just another slut’s. She smiled at her wickedness, joining the exodus from the dorm. Murphy was on her left and Mitchell on her right and for just a moment, before she had to scan her tag or form a line or think about the demands of a slut, everything in her world felt perfect.

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