Strictland Academy Read online

  It was not. Beginning with Molly, he planted two solid swats in the exact same spot before moving to the other two. All three moaned loudly, their bodies exhausted from the ordeal. Every bit of the flesh on their bottoms and down the backs of their upper thighs was swollen and a solid, fiery red. Mercifully, they had also become surprisingly numb to the pain, as though every nerve had short-circuited. Expecting this phenomenon to occur, the man ceased their punishments as abruptly as he had begun.

  He resumed his sitting position behind his desk. After several minutes, he spoke: “You may straighten up to attention with your fingers laced and hands placed on top of your heads. When Attendant Hazel takes you down to the dormitory area, you must each tell her that you have earned another punishment for being so vocal during this one. You may also tell her that it can be deferred a day or two to allow your bodies time to recuperate and appreciate the full impact of her discipline. Don't look so surprised that I know you are not feeling anything significant at this moment. We will not fight against your endorphins. Instead, we will make use of them, by keeping you on the edge."

  Each girl bit her lip, stifling a groan at his pronouncement. Moments later, they heard Attendant Hazel's skirts rustling behind them as she entered the room. They were led through the teeming hall to a dormitory area and taken into a communal bathroom. The room stilled of all sound and movement when little April piped up with a request: “Attendant? Ma'am?"

  Attendant Hazel’s stony face glared down at the large, blue eyes. "Are you interrupting me, girl?"

  “No, Ma'am, it's just that we're here in the bathrooms, and I have to, you know ...” Her face flushed bright pink. “I have to go."

  She gasped as the older woman reached down and pushed a balled fist against her lower tummy, holding her in place with a tight grip to her hot, pulsating bottom-cheeks. "You do not feel full, girl. The bathroom may only be used in the morning before meditation, after lunch, and in the evening before lights out." Attendant Hazel gave her a considering eye. "Unless you have a medical condition that dictates the need for additional time, these elimination breaks are sufficient. Do you?"

  "No ma'am. I don't think so. I am just not very big, and ..." April's downcast eyes brimmed with tears. "I'm sorry."

  "You should be. You are quite the cheeky little thing for asking, aren't you?"

  “She certainly is, Attendant. It appears necessary for me to make it impossible for Compton to get away with even the smallest transgression," a familiar voice stated from across the room. It was April's nemesis, Attendant Angela. “What has she done now?"

  “She claims the need to urinate."

  “Oh, does she, now? Didn't she go right before her examination?" Attendant Angela unhooked the showerhead sprayer from the hose and handed the water line to April. "Drink until I tell you to stop. Water is precious so you had best not miss a drop."

  April hesitated, her eyes darting around the room, seeking help from anyone. This action resulted in another ruthless spanking, this time bent across Attendant Angela's lap with her bladder pressed uncomfortably against the hard knee. The callused palm landed in rapid fire across the hot, traumatized skin that had already started to harden from deep bruising. The matron scoffed, shoving the girl from her lap when she realized the battered flesh was past the point of feeling.

  "This is a waste of my time. Get them into the showers!"

  The ice-cold spray brought a new sensation of pain, as the overheated pores quickly snapped closed and tightened their skin. All the while, attendants with bath brushes viciously scrubbed every inch, including their tender and recently abused intimate areas. Their wet hair was brushed with no concern to snarls and a simple, crude haircut was given that left their locks in a choppy, unattractive mess. This mutilation also marked them as newcomers. Wretchedness filled the eyes of all three as they sunk into a deeper realization that the nightmare was just beginning for them.

  They were escorted into a dormitory lined with stacks of bunk beds, and assigned the bottom racks to make them easily accessible to the supervisors.

  “You will be out of bed no later than five in the morning to use the lavatory, and you are to be prepared for your meditation and declarations by five-fifteen. Breakfast is at six-thirty, lunch is at noon, and dinner at six. There will be fifteen minutes after each meal designated for use of the facilities. Study time is from six thirty until nine. At nine, the line is formed for the lavatory and you are expected to complete your business quickly and without dallying. Community showers are available at four-thirty on Sunday mornings, and it is advised you take advantage of the privilege. Uncleanliness will result in punishment."

  She took in a deep breath before continuing: "Lights-out are at nine-fifteen, not one second later. Anyone failing to be in bed at that time, or out of bed after reveille, will be subject to disciplinary action. Your uniforms and nightgowns are on your bunks, with shoes and an extra pair of socks beneath them. You may put them on."

  “Attendant, may I speak, please?" Molly asked quietly, careful not to look up.

  The attendant stood directly in front of her, affecting an intimidating stance. "What is it, Petry?"

  “The Headmaster said that we had to tell you that we'd earned another punishment because we were too loud when he was paddling us in his office,” she blurted, fearful of the consequences of disobedience. "He also said to defer it for a day or two, due to the condition of our bottoms."

  Attendant Hazel raised an eyebrow to study the girl before turning to look at the other two. "Petry did as she was told, showing some integrity and desire to comply. Neither of you even attempted to obey the Headmaster's order. It'll go much harder on you because of that. Since you're not in classes yet, you won't need study time tomorrow. You'll be punished when I am in the mood. Don't worry, I'll find you then. Put on your uniforms,” she clipped, watching them with narrowed eyes as they quickly obeyed. "You've got one dress. Take good care of it, because you won't get another until these become threadbare. Same with your nightgown and extra socks."

  The girls were dismayed by what was found waiting for them. There was one white uniform with the girl's last name written boldly in red just above the left breast, one nightgown that was similarly emblazoned, one pair of socks, and one pair of well-worn slippers. No undergarments were furnished, although each was grateful for being spared the agony of having anything snug touching their scorched bottoms. Their nipples rubbed uncomfortably against the rough, crude fabric of the floor-length, high-collared uniform dress; and the stiff canvas slippers pinched their numb, cold toes.

  Another bell rang, and they were herded towards the crowd of girls who were corralled within a large cafeteria. The eerie silence was discomfiting as the other inmates moved mutely through the lunch line with plates that were alarmingly devoid of anything but a plain boiled potato, a slightly wilted pile of greens, and a slab of unidentified gray meat. Each girl was given a glass of tepid water with a citrus wedge.

  Attendant Hazel led them to a table, where the silent occupants quickly rose to attention. They were briefly introduced to their prefect and authorized to address her directly at appointed time periods if there were any questions. Like the other women, the prefect was clothed in a white uniformed dress that was set apart by a small amount of black piping around the collar. Molly's eyes also caught the dark faces of several men watching them from an observing chamber that overlooked the area. She shivered. Who exactly were they and what were they looking for?

  The rumbling of their stomachs did not induce an invitation to eat in the sparse ten minutes given to complete the meal. Instead, they were rushed through the area and led to the schoolroom. Attendant Hazel spoke, her low, graveled voice rumbling through the room.

  “In case you were wondering why the cafeteria is so quiet, it is expected that you conduct yourselves in contemplative silence at all times and to speak only when spoken to by a superior. Conversations among the girls will not be tolerated for any reason, and you are alw
ays being watched and evaluated, either by us or by prospective husbands who also practice the same type of discipline as we do. For that reason alone, proper behavior is expected if you ever hope to leave this place. These men who are watching you might be the ones who the State will qualify as your husband. The better show you put on for them, the sooner one will subject an acquisition petition to the headmaster, and begin the process of State approval. The competition is high, and no one really knows what each particular man is looking for. The Rejected tend to be choosier than the others because their tastes lean towards the more aggressive spectrum of ownership."

  She saw the horrified look on the young faces and a slow, toothy grin crossed her lips. "Why do you look like deer in the headlights? Did you actually think you were just going to be released to your own devices? Did you really believe that you would be given the privilege of making a choice about your own futures? Your mothers signed your lives into our care, and by all intents and purposes, made you into wards of the court. We have agreed to better your lives by searching for the right mate for you and have assured your families that you will be well taken care of for the rest of your lives in exchange for complete absolution from your crimes. See how kind we are?"

  The girls dumbly nodded, unable to comment. The attendant continued with her tour. "This is the school room. In the mornings, until the bell for lunch, you will be given instruction in practices of etiquette, conduct, and home economics. We believe this curriculum is more than adequate for any young woman to learn how to be obedient citizens, wives and, eventually, mothers. You are not here to become captains of industry or gain an advanced education. That being said, if any of you had hopes of 'becoming something', it is time to abandon them. Take a few minutes to look around and accept what your future holds for you."

  Slowly, the girls raised their eyes to study their environment. The room was free of furnishings, other than a large teacher's desk and several elementary desks which where clearly too small to be used by any of the girls in the facility. A pommel horse was located in the far corner, equipped with cuffs attached to the legs. The wall was decorated with implements of various sizes and shapes, and a plain, white-faced clock. A single glance upwards revealed a windowed enclosure tucked into the rafters above them.

  Attendant Hazel snapped her fingers and the trio followed her into an attached building, where the inmates were hard at work doing various light chores that included sewing and mending. Once again, there was no sound of chatter. Sitting on high stools along the wall were two black-garbed supervisory attendants, who appeared to be directing the punishments administered by the room's prefects.

  "This room is for those ladies who have proven themselves trustworthy to work alone or have sustained some type of injury preventing them from engaging in more menial tasks. They do various piecemeal assignments and have daily quotas to fulfill. It is considered to be a place of privilege, and assignment here is dependent upon your performance and behavior. Do not try to get yourselves hurt so that you are transferred here, either. We have ... other places ... for girls who have attempted such deception. As newcomers, you three will be working in the laundry room."

  Patricia grabbed Molly's hand. "Do you think they will let us eat soon? I'm hypoglycemic."

  Molly bit her lip and shrugged, glancing briefly at the faceless watchers overhead. The words the matron used ... stating the prospective husband would 'acquiring them' ate at her. The only monetary exchange that was required by the State was for the future husband to provide support to his new wife’s family. Did the headmaster receive a finder’s fee? That was impossible! It sounded too much like flesh peddling…

  CHAPTER 5

  The next room they entered was smoldering hot and suffocatingly humid. The pungently acrid air hung heavily around the workers, as though it were weighed down by an unseen force. Each girl inside was red-faced and covered with perspiration with hands that were raw from hand-scrubbing laundry in steaming water and lye soap. Four attendants were positioned comfortably in front of fans and carefully watched for anyone to falter at her post. The girls came to a halt in front of one of the older women, who swung a short doubled leather strap from a loop on her wrist.

  “Since you have almost a full half-day left, there's no reason why you can't start now. Attendant Rachel, these are the three new miscreants. They're all yours."

  They were rapidly separated and assigned a station consisting of a clamshell contraption into which an article of clothing was placed. Once done, the lid was closed, steam applied, and the garment removed. This mundane routine was to be their life, filling every moment when not in 'school' and all day on Saturday.

  “Your normal quota will be three hundred items a day, but since you only have a half-day, your quota will be one-hundred-and-seventy-five. Part of our revenue comes from providing this service for paid clients outside of the facility, so we expect care and perfection when handling garments that are obviously not associated with Strictland,” Attendant Rachel advised, signaling to divide the enormous piles. "There will be no breaks, no sitting, and no complaining. Every hour someone will bring you some water, but it would behoove you to drink it quickly and not dawdle. Do you have any questions? You have this one time to ask without punishment."

  The list of more thou shalt nots were issued, and Molly's dizzy head swam with both exhaustion and anger. How was it that Strictland could not afford the resources to heat the facility and bring some warmth to the inmates, yet they could waste it steaming clothes? The need for heat was desperate after the layer of post-war pollution blocked the sun for nearly a decade, which was nearly fatal for a society that was once driven by solar power.

  “Attendant? I am confused,” Molly bravely uttered. “Where did you get the raw fuel to power this operation? We were told all the natural resources like coal and oil were essentially gone and that what we have is rationed. It's also illegal to chop down trees, and there are no wind turbines or solar power units that work because of the atmospheric pollution. I don’t understand how the State would support such waste.”

  “Noisy thing aren't you?” the attendant snapped. “It is none of your business how fuel is obtained from our facility or how we chose to use it. It amazes me about how you girls complain about the cold and yet, here you are, nice and warm, and you complain about that. Get to work and count your blessings!”

  After two hours in the grueling heat, Molly looked across her station to see Patricia crumble to the floor in a dead faint, overtaken by the oppressive humidity, lack of nutrition and water, and the ordeals of the day. April and Molly ran to her rescue and were intercepted, screaming as leather smacked at their thighs for leaving their posts without permission.

  One of the prefects threw a bucket of murky water over the unconscious girl and dragged her bodily to the front of the room.

  “All stop!” One of the attendants commanded. "Pay attention. This one thinks that she'll get away with not doing any work by fainting, making the rest of you have to pick up her slack. Is that appropriate behavior?"

  “No, Attendant Patience!” A unified shout met April and Molly's ears.

  “What does a lay-about get when she is discovered at Strictland Academy?"

  “Twelve of the best, Attendant Patience!”

  “I think that, with the resistance she demonstrated, she can get half again as much to teach her not to make such a fuss next time, right, girls?"

  “Yes, Attendant Patience."

  Patricia could barely lift her head, let alone support her own body weight. She was grabbed under the arms by two of the older attendants and hauled to a tall, shackled pommel horse located on the far side of the room. Despite her inability to struggle, she was roughly laid over it so that neither her hands nor feet were touching ground. The chains to which the cuffs were attached were adjusted, so that she was held taut, arms and legs outstretched uncomfortably. Her dress was lifted in the back and bunched under her armpits to display her already discolored backside. />
  Attendant Patience removed a formidable-looking cane from the wall and whipped it in the air. She glanced up towards the viewing room and smiled, releasing the cane to cut through the air again. The sound of swooshing caused all the inmates to wince.

  "The steam room is the perfect place to store our canes, isn't it ladies? It keeps them so nice and pliable, and weighs them down to help them cut a little deeper. Didn't I teach you that in class?" the abominable woman announced. She brought the implement to Patricia's mouth and commanded, “Kiss the instrument of your correction, girl!”

  Patricia's huge eyes were filled with unshed tears as she did as she was told, and she slumped in defeat as hopelessness descended upon her. The Attendant stood behind her as the cane was laid against her bottom, foreshadowing what was to come. The woman's short, slender arm was pulled back as she ordered, “Count the strokes, girls!”

  As the practiced chorus of “One!” was shouted, the cane slashed with sadistic ease across the bare skin. Patricia shuddered in silent endurance as her body ceased to function on it's own accord.

  Attendant Patience growled, clearly annoyed that the stroke had not produced a cry of resistance. When the room shouted “Two!” she sent the cane slicing across the girl's lower thighs. Still no reaction. Four more counts were called and four more lashes striped the girl, who continued to numbly accept her defeat. Angrily, the attendant tossed the cane aside.

  "It is time we try something different, since this slut seems to be enjoying her treatment. Hand me the Singapore!"