The pony and trap wound its way down the long narrow driveway, between the high hedges on either side and toward the lodge. The driver, a tall and miserable man with a hooked nose and warts on his face, lashed the horse brutally with the carriage whip to urge it to speed up. In the back of the trap the two young sisters sat silently, their heads and gazes down at their laps, their hands resting on their knees, both girls fiddling nervously with their fingers. Occasionally they would gasp and reach out to grip the handrails as the trap bumped and bucked, jerking them violently around as it made its way along the rough country lane. Without warning the trap lurched as it took a corner at sped, the wheel clipping the hedge on the far side as it skidded on the dusty track and then came to an abrupt halt outside a dingy, green-painted door beneath a dull grey slate roof. The driver half-turned, looked back over his shoulder, a hideous grin parting the thin lips of his weasel-like face. “Welcome to your new school, you naughty girls,” he said as a low chuckle then threw his head back and laughed like a hyena.
*** The girls stood in the empty hallway of the lodge building, their hands by their sides and their bags by their feet, taking in the cold-looking slab floors and the plain plastered walls. The place reeked of mix of carbolic soap and musty decay, the damp stains rising up the wall adding to the already dismal and depressive atmosphere of the place. A sense of foreboding filled the two girls, as it had since reaching the railway station and on seeing the evil-looking driver of the trap there to meet them. They were here now though, sent to the place against their wishes, a punishment their father had told them, an unfair and unwarranted punishment meted out for no reason whatever. Lisbeth, the elder of the two sisters, a tall and attractive blonde, gave an involuntary shiver. She chanced a sideways glance at Marie-Anne, shrugged and then snapped her head back to face front, lest they were seen to be communicating. It was all so different; horribly different for them, so unlike the finishing school that they had attended in London. This was the dregs, prison-like and dull, a cold and unfeeling place that made them feel more alone then ever. The sense of solitude they felt was overwhelming, they had done nothing to deserve this, it was all so unfair, so wrong and yet, they could do nothing but accept their lot. The girls started as the weasel-faced driver suddenly appeared in the doorway, that hideous grin seemingly permanently etched on his face. “Pick up your bags and follow me,” he snapped, turned abruptly and strode off, his long legs propelling him in fast loping strides. The sisters scurried, struggling with the heavy bags to catch up with him. Around the side of the building they went, running at times to keep pace with the tall man. Across a cobbled courtyard, past a row of what looked like stables, and into the kitchen area of the main house. Through corridors and passages they were led, turning left and right and then left again they made their way thought the great house. At the foot of a wide and curving staircase the man halted, didn’t turn around but simply pointed to the floor. “Leave your bags here.” He was off again immediately, climbing the stairs four steps at a time to leave the sisters hurrying behind, their long skirts held at their sides to clear their ankles and running up the many steps in pursuit. At the top and at the end of a long corridor he halted, a wicked smile on his face and his beady black eyes staring emotionlessly from his sunken and red-rimmed sockets. “The principal awaits you,” he said and pointed to polished double doors at the end of the corridor, then added with glee, “and you are already late.” He chuckled and stood watching as the girls hurried to the end of the corridor and knocked smartly on the heavy oak doors. The principal’s study was vast, a wide and long room with high windows all along the left-hand wall that bathed the room in bright, natural daylight. The other walls were lined with dark mahogany shelves that reached floor to ceiling and were loaded with books of all sizes, some of which looked positively ancient. At the far end of the room a huge walnut desk rested upon a large rectangular Indian rug and before the desk another square rug, Persian perhaps, the centre worn and threadbare. Behind the desk sat the principal, a tall and skinny man with a beaked nose beneath his tortoiseshell framed spectacles and an unhappy scowl on his face. An imposing figure in his dark suit, starched white collar and black bowtie. “Come forward,” he snapped impatiently at the sisters, waving them to the desk, his bony fingers long and talon-like. “You have kept me waiting long enough already.” The girls hurried, Marie-Anne almost tripping on the edge of the Persian rug in their haste to comply, to stand before his desk, side-by-side and with their hands by their sides. Both girls were identically dressed in the school uniform of the day, long black cotton dresses with bibs over their chests and thin straps over their shoulders to hold the bib in place. The dresses hung so as to conceal their figures, ankle length, brushing the tops of their leather ankle boots with only the side button studs of the boots showing on the insteps of their feet. Crisp white blouses, long-sleeve and high in the collar covered the upper parts of their body leaving only their hands and face showing as bare flesh. It was as was required and expected, a woman should not be seen to display more for to do would be whorish, wanton and sluttish – totally unacceptable behaviour to all classes of society. Scarlet ribbons held their pigtails in place, tight and long plaits of hair, a neat and practical style. The principal made them wait, sitting behind his desk with his fingers steepled and pressing together so hard that the blood drained the flesh of them bleach white. He regarded them, ogled perhaps, his small beady eyes flicking first to their faces, then their chests, then their hips and lower still. The girls wilted under his critical stare and hung their heads, eyes downcast and looking to the floor. No man, much less a stranger, should pay such attention to a young girl, be he her senior or not – it wasn’t proper – it wasn’t nice. “Which of you is Lisbeth?” he asked, his high-pitched voice cutting the silence like a knife. “I am,” the tall blonde said and at the same time the smaller brunette said. “She is.” The principal sighed unnecessarily heavily in resignation and said in a tired tone, shaking his head slowly side to side. “It is easy to see why you have been sent here.” The girls bit their tongues, although they could say much in their defence, wisdom told them that silence was the prudent course. “You then, Lisbeth, are the eldest?” “Yes sir, almost nineteen.” “And your sister?” “She is…” “Eighteen,” Marie-Anne interrupted and added haughtily. “I can speak for myself.” They squealed in shock and started back in horror as his clenched fist slammed down hard and noisily on the top of the desk, shaking the inkwell and toppling the pens. “Stand up straight!” the man bellowed as a shout, his lips curled back venomously and spittle spraying from his mouth. “Heads up. Backs straight, look to the wall above my head and nowhere else.” He watched the pretty little sluts stand rigidly to attention, their faces set and close to tears, their bottom lips quivering and their bodies shaking in fear of him. He loved this part, frightening the little bitches, scaring the shit out of them and setting the trend for things to come. It make is cock hard and his balls grip to bring wonderful tingling sensations rushing through the whole of his groin area. The sense of power he gained from having total control over them was a high not to be surpassed, sometimes even by orgasm itself. “You will find things very different here,” the man said with a low tone of gloating sounding in his voice. Again he pressed the tips of his fingers together and ogled the girls in turn. “You have been sent to this establishment to learn discipline and to learn to obey.” He paused, adding then a deliberate phrase to provoke, “and without backchat or dissent.” “But we…” Lisbeth began to protest; she took a half step forward in her haste then corrected herself and resumed her previous rigid position and stance. A triumphant smile flickered on his face. “You really are determined to make things hard for yourselves here aren’t you?” “Sorry, sir,” Lisbeth muttered. He glared at her and then dropped his gaze again to the swell f her breasts as they pushed against the bib of her dress. “Here no outside rules or restrictions exist. The only rules are the ones that I make. You are now in a government institution of correction in which I have absolute control. I also have your legal ward’s written consent to instil corrective training in you both, by whatever means I see fit. You are in effect mine, to do with as I wish and there is only one way out of here – to comply and satisfy me.” He paused to let the word ‘satisfy’ hang. “Then, and only then, will I sign the authorisation for your releases.” Both girls swallowed hard, Marie-Anne gave a stifled nervous whimper and both began to tremble more so. “Now!” he stated loudly and firmly. The man stood up, his long frock coat buttoned down the front to mid-thigh, concealing his erection pushing at the front of his trousers. “We deal firstly with the matter of your lateness in arrival.” “But that was the train…” Marie-Anne began, hesitated and then went for broke. “…And your driver kept us waiting for some time at the station before setting out, they were the reasons for our lateness.” “Silence,” he said with a sneer and moved around behind the girls. He stood close, very close indeed, and sniffed in the heady perfume of the fresh young girls. A wonderful freshness he smelt, not simply the lavender water cologne that they wore but the marvellous scent that only pubescent young girls, when their bodies are blooming and their sexuality awakening, can emit. He felt his cock rear in excited anticipation and looked down at the soft, tender skin of Lisbeth’s neck, the shapely nape, the unblemished skin so pale and so delightfully inviting. “You will be punished,” he said, his voice sounding thick and low with rising arousal. “Hoist your skirts and bend over my desk.” Both girls whirled around to face him, they gasped in shock and Marie-Anne clamped both her hands over her mouth in stunned disbelief at what he had said. Never did a young lady lift her skirt to show her ankles let alone what the principal had suggested. It was unheard of, obscene and lewd, totally unacceptable behaviour for any man to display. For a moment he returned their disgusted stares silently then a smile broke over his face and he began to laugh. “I told you that things were different here. Now do as I say. Face the desk, hoist your skirts around your waists and bend over.” Neither girl moved. They remained as they were, bewildered and shocked, thoroughly horrified and unable to respond further. The tall man walked around the side of his desk, reached out to the side of the bookcase and picked up a long rattan cane. As he turned he swished the cane in the air, back and forth several times to fully display his intent and to add emphasis to his threat. His voice was harsh and loud, full of venom and equally threatening. “Get those skirts up - or I’ll beat you until you obey me.” Price $5.95 |
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